"Gabrielle Holly spins her stories in a way that will take you on an emotional rollercoaster you'll never forget!"
~Paranormal Romance Junkies

Saturday, September 12, 2015

The COMPLETE 1st Chapter of "Her Alphas" Erotic Romance!

Darlings, I am SO GRATEFUL for the overwhelming response to "Her Alphas" - Book 2 in my Wolf's Mark series! Thank you for making this book an INSTANT BESTSELLER!

I'm pleased to offer the complete first chapter and hope you'll be titillated enough to see what happens next.

Sending love and gratitude from beautiful Northern California...

xoxo ~ Gabrielle

 Buy "Her Alphas" today for Kindle


Chapter One

Jenny tilted her face to the full moon and breathed in the cool forest air. Her nose twitched as she detected pine needles, rotting leaves and the musk of living creatures. Each scent brought with it an image, creating a flickering mental slideshow.

In the months since her change, Jenny’s senses had grown almost unbearably acute. It was as if she were experiencing the world for the first time and her mind raced to take it all in.
She could get lost in the complex flavors of fresh fruit—or raw meat—and the glitter of sunlight on the lake took her breath away. This new reality was a better high than she could get from any drug—and she’d tried them all.

A light breeze swirled through the clearing, and when her long blonde hair brushed over her bare skin, she shivered. Every nerve ending seemed to bloom at the slightest touch and she’d begun chasing the feast of new sensations.

Sex used to be the currency she’d traded to survive, but now it fed her ever-growing power. Right up until the night she’d been bitten, Jenny had used her tight little body to get what she needed—food, drugs, a place to crash. She’d coasted from one meaningless business transaction to the next—fucking rich old men in limousines and B-list rock stars on tour busses.
Jenny had never told her new lover about the things she’d had to do to. That woman was dead. She’d been reborn into a new world where her past meant nothing and she could create the future she knew she deserved.

The moment she’d laid eyes on Sergei Markov on her first night in Talbot, she’d known he was her ticket out of life as a drifter. She hadn’t counted on him being able to transport her mind and body with his big cock and the magic of the moon.

She didn’t know if he loved her—and that didn’t matter—she was pretty sure she didn’t love him. One thing was clear—he wanted her desperately—and that was something she could work with.
Just walking naked with him to the clearing—their clearing—was enough to drive her mad. The anticipation of the mystical energy they were about to share made her pussy throb. She knew that when they were done, her body would be wrecked, but she would have stolen some of his strength for her own.

Even as Jenny wondered at the limits of her potential power, she felt her body ripple and contort as the shift overcame her. The howl burst from her chest as she smelled his musk and felt his hot erection press into the small of her back.

So small. So wild.

Sergei stood back on the path, watching Jenny lift her face to the blazing moon. She seemed to be pulling at its energy. The rays turned her silky hair nearly white and he followed the curve of her back past the narrow waist to her tight, round ass.

He tried to probe her mind but was met with static—like a radio that had been tuned between stations. Early on, he’d wondered if she’d been shielding her thoughts, but knew that was impossible for one so freshly turned.

It took years of experience to put up such psychic walls, especially against one as skilled as he was. He had been pack alpha not so long ago. Reading the minds of his lessers and making them cower beneath his crushing strength had been a benefit of his position. But this one… this one was different.

From the moment she’d stumbled into Talbot—like so many did—freshly bitten and full of anxiety, he’d wanted her. Perhaps it was simply that he’d been alone for so long. Or maybe he was seeking a fresh start.

Jenny was so willing—that was part of her attraction. He’d made a vow that he would never take a female by force.

Once, in a moment of weakness, he’d almost done the unthinkable. He had been frantically clutching to his place as alpha and driven by moon lust when he’d tried to claim the human consort, Gwen Chaney, as his own.

An inexplicable fear had overwhelmed him that night and Sergei had felt an instinctive need to crush the threat he perceived in Gwen. He would never understand what had happened to him—what had fueled his rage—but he would die before he let it happen again. Though he’d been pardoned for that transgression, the shame of it haunted him.

Sergei shook away the memory and focused again on Jenny’s lithe body. It seemed to vibrate with her volatile energy. She was willful, untamed and unpredictable—fueling his frustration and his desire.

His attention was drawn to her beautiful backside. Saliva flooded his mouth as her willowy limbs stretched and the muscles became hyper-defined. Her delicate fingers morphed into claws and fine golden fur erupted through her creamy skin.

Jenny widened her stance, trembling as her feet elongated, the heels sliding up the back of her legs until she balanced on wolfen paws. The marriage of woman and beast was exquisite.

When Jenny threw back her head and howled, Sergei’s own transformation was instant and her human shortcomings were extinguished by his desire. In two long strides the man-beast was pressed against her back, his own moon cry mingling with hers.

Sergei sank his teeth into her shoulder—not with full force—but hard enough to sting. The howl ripped from Jenny’s throat and even now, six months after her change, the savageness of it still surprised her.

“Does it please you, little one?” Sergei growled. His muzzle was at her ear and his hot breath ruffled her golden fur.

“Yes, baby, it pleases me,” she panted. She dug her claws into the mossy soil at the edge of the clearing, bracing herself against his assault. The enormous werewolf curled his elongated fingers around her hipbones and rammed into her again.

His thick cock filled her completely, stretching her to the limit between pleasure and pain. As a man, the big Russian had been a professional basketball player and, after his change, his supernatural strength was only enhanced by his athleticism.

During moon week, he could fuck her for hours. And he did. Jenny’s own strength and stamina had increased to degrees she couldn’t have imagined before, yet these sessions often left her so weak that her mate had to carry her back to the house.

Before he’d taken her from behind, Sergei had made her come over and over again. He’d plunged his fingers into her wet pussy and snaked his long tongue deep inside. He always made sure she was satisfied before entering her because, once he did, there was no turning back. When they were sexually joined, a shifted pair fit together like lock and key and couldn’t be separated until the male reached his climax. The mystical bonding was as real and unbreakable as a physical one would be.

Alex—their alpha—explained that this love-tie occurred in all wolves. Canids he called them. He’d been a veterinarian before becoming a big TV star and he always used words like that. It was just one of the many ways Alex made sure everyone in the pack knew their place. Sergei had been pack master once and, as far as Jenny was concerned, he still should be.

Steam rose from their sweaty bodies in the cool autumn night. The fur between Jenny’s lean thighs was already matted with wetness when he flipped her onto all fours. As ready as she was for him, she still ground her teeth when he pressed his huge shaft inside.

Every sense was heightened and each time he grazed her engorged clit, shockwaves radiated from her core and sent fresh juices flowing. No drug could rival the high she felt during moon week.

Jenny’s slick inner walls registered every steely inch of him. It was as if she could even decipher every thick vein. His hot breath on her neck and the musky smell of him flooded her consciousness.
Her muscles quivered and ached and just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, she lifted her head and focused on the full moon hovering over the pines. For so many months she’d had to look at it through iron bars. She’d been locked in the fledgling cave every night of her first four moon weeks. Bathing in its light out here in the open—with Sergei buried deep inside of her—was a rush like none other.

The lunar rays washed over her and sent energy coursing through her cells. Jenny pushed her ass backward to meet Sergei’s animalistic thrusts. She contracted her inner muscles, squeezing down hard and enhancing the already snug fit. His pace quickened and his heavy balls slapped at her engorged clit. The sensation was magical and she feltherself climbing again. Staring at the huge white orb in the sky, Jenny gave herself over to its power and let it rip the orgasm from her lithe body. She howled and panted in release.

The rippling spasms shook her so violently that she barely noticed that Sergei too was reaching climax. It wasn’t until she felt the hot jets of cum spurt into her and she heard his feral snarls that she understood. The supernatural tie that had bound them slowly unraveled and Sergei’s cock slid from her bruised and aching pussy. He flopped on his back and pulled her against his broad chest. Jenny lightly brushed her claws over his hard muscles. “You are so fucking strong,” she whispered.

“And you are so beautiful,” he replied.

Jenny listened to his breathing slow and become deep and even. Looking up into his face, then down his ripped torso and powerful legs, she watched as he shifted back to human form. The moonlight illuminated his massive body, casting shadows in the valleys between his defined abs. Yes. You are the strongest and I am the hottest. We should be this pack’s alphas.

* * * * *

Gwen Chaney tossed the magazine on the coffee table then stared at the riot of fall colors on the trees outside the cabin window. After rereading the first paragraph of the same article four times, she still didn’t know what it was about. She was too distracted to read—or for that matter—think straight. It had been six months since Gwen had asked Alex to change her and she was still waiting. He’d assured her that it wasn’t impossible…

But…

The pack needed her. She understood it was complicated, but her impatience was growing. In her role as legacy consort, it was Gwen’s birthright—no, her birth-obligation—to usher new werewolves through the early days of their transformation. The pack held her in the highest esteem, and she was safer among them than any human walking the earth. She was untouchable. Even so, she couldn’t help but think that her status was nothing more than an antiquated designation.

She didn’t really do anything. The newly turned were handed over to her care, but she thought anyone with half a brain could march the destined—or the doomed, as it were—through the underground tunnel to the ancient cell, lock the door then look on as they transformed.

After seeing three newborn werewolves through their trials, as far as she could tell her only real function was to sit outside the thick iron bars and watch as the change overtook them. Gwen neither interfered with, nor facilitated, the process. She merely sat on the creaky old rocking chair and looked on as human became beast. It seemed to her that the pack could have employed some minimum-wage short-order cook to do the same.

The one thing Gwen was sure of was that she wanted to be on the other side of the cell door. As violent as the transformations appeared to be and as wild and uncontrolled as the creatures became, she longed to experience the magic for herself. Before coming to Talbot, Gwen had never considered herself the adventurous type, but this place had changed her. She had seen things that she couldn’t have dreamed existed and now that her eyes had been opened to the new world, she understood that she was born to be a part of it. Looking in from the outside was no longer enough.
* * * * *
Six Months Earlier
The last fledgling she’d overseen had been Jenny—the waiflike neo-flower-child who had been bitten while attending an outdoor concert in northern Wisconsin. Jenny had made her way to the pack just two days before moon week and was both frightened and confused to find herself in such an unbelievable predicament.

By the time the two women had retired to the underground cell, Jenny had enthusiastically embraced the adventure.

“This is better than tripping on acid,” Jenny had said. Gwen supposed that the little blonde’s experience with psychotropic drugs had helped eased the transition.
Jenny and the pack’s former alpha, Sergei Markov, had made an instant connection and—with Alex’s blessing—were paired as life-mates.

Alex had come to Gwen that night as Jenny lay on the cot, panting and whining in her sleep. He’d pulled Gwen into the shadows and wrung every last bit of passion from her body. The session had left her aching and exhausted. The next morning, she’d asked Alex to let her drink the potion that would make her like him, but he’d refused.

“The pack needs you, Gwen,” he’d said. “We’ll look for a replacement, but it won’t be easy. It’s not like I’ve got a file folder stuffed with resumés for consorts.”

Gwen had lost it. “What’s the difference who does it? A trained monkey could sit in that fucking rocking chair and do nothing while the newbies storm around the cell doing their thing! Why do you even need anyone there? Couldn’t you just lock the door, hide the key and let them change? It’s not like they’re going to escape and go on a killing spree!”

She could still remember the look of disbelief on his face when she’d said that. “Gwen, I assumed you understood. Didn’t your grandfather’s notes explain why it has to be you?”

Gwen stared at the wooden box that lay on the coffee table beside her unread magazine. The symbol of the werewolf—a spiral within an inverted triangle—was carved on the lid. The box held her late-grandfather’s pipes and tobacco and—in a secret compartment—the journal. The thick leather-bound volume was a handbook of sorts, passed down through generations of human consorts and filled with notes from those who had held the position before her.

The earliest entries were made in elegant script, dotted with splotches of ink as if written with a quill. Others were in pencil and ballpoint. The most recent were from her grandfather. She recognized his small, neat printing in the blue felt-tip he favored. Gwen had received countless birthday cards and letters from John Chaney and the sight of his handwriting always made her miss him.

Since discovering the journal, Gwen had pored over the pages, trying to make sense of her strange predicament. Some entries were devoted to what pack elders called ”the mystery”. They believed that though werewolves came from every walk of life, they were not chosen at random. The Moon People tradition taught that the moment man and beast met was preordained. Neither could foresee it. 

Neither could control it. Neither was to blame.

There were instructions on how to calm the newly bitten and what to feed them in preparation for the physical demands of the changes they would endure—lots of high-fat protein and plenty of water. 

There was a crude map to the hidden cave and a faded drawing of the amulet the consort was to wear while on duty. Several of the entries stressed the importance of staying away from the cell bars, well out of the werewolves’ reach.

There were plenty of instructions on what to do and what not to do, but no insight regarding why. 

When Gwen had told Alex that, he’d sat her down to explain.

“Keeping humans safe is one reason for locking up the fledglings, but that’s only part of the equation, Gwen. You’re also keeping the new werewolves safe from us. Our behavior is complicated and instinctive. We’re hardwired to maintain the status quo and part of that is keeping outsiders out of the pack. Until they’re fully initiated, we see them as a threat and we’re compelled to…well…destroy them.”

“Like I could stop a werewolf who wanted to get into that cell? I’ve seen the kind of speed and strength you all have!”

Alex had shaken his head. “No. You’re right. You could never stop us—physically. But as a human consort you have two things that make you invincible. One, you wear the amulet in the cave and—two, your bloodline makes you untouchable. One doesn’t work without the other, but in combination those things keep you—and the fledglings—safe.”

She had searched her memory for the first time Alex had told her that her bloodline protected her. “But you told me before that my lineage made me off-limits to attack. You never said anything about the amulet.”

“You misunderstood,” Alex had said. “I told you that the pack members are not allowed to touch you because you’re a legacy consort. It’s the law, but laws can be broken and if they are, the penalties are severe. However, if you’re in the confines of the sacred space—the cave— and you’re wearing the necklace, nothing can harm you. It’s physically impossible—like you’re in a force field.”

Gwen had thought back to the way he’d taken her in the cave while Jenny slept in the cell just a few yards away. “Well I seem to remember my ‘force field’ didn’t stop you the night Jenny was changed and I’m pretty sure I was wearing the amulet.”

“I didn’t harm you, did I?”

Alex had brought her from one orgasm to another and left her spent and satisfied, but no, he hadn’t harmed her.
* * * * *
Present
With the memory of that night still fresh in her mind, Gwen rose from the couch and walked to the little side table near the front door. She opened the drawer and pulled out the thick silver chain. She ran her fingers over the heavy pendant, tracing each line and curve of the werewolf symbol.

Alex’s explanation had answered her questions but raised new—and devastating—problems. It would be easy enough to hand off the amulet to another person—if the pack could find someone willing to take on the responsibility. It would be another thing entirely to find someone who shared her DNA. 

Following her grandfather’s death, Gwen had become the last of the Chaney line.

As soon as Gwen walked toward the front door, her golden retriever, Jezebel, struggled to her feet with a groan and waddled across the room, tail wagging. Alex’s black Lab, Bob, was right behind her.

Gwen dropped the amulet back into the drawer and slid it shut. “Feel like a walk, you two furry idiots? I think we could all use some fresh air.”

Jezebel’s long, fringed tail—and Bob’s sleek one—thumped against Gwen’s knees. She reached down and scratched both dogs’ heads. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The three stepped off the front porch and headed toward the trailhead between the tall pines at the edge of the side yard. Bob ran ahead, pausing occasionally to sniff and pee. She lost sight of him a couple of times and wished she had Alex’s powers. The star of the hit TV show The Dog Talker had a secret to his success. He could solve canine behavior problems not because of his background in veterinary medicine and animal behavior, but because he could literally talk to the animals. He could hear their thoughts and they could comprehend his.

Alex had explained that it wasn’t so much a conversation as an understanding. Dogs, he’d told her, thought in emotions and their primary motivations were food, sex and safety. Alex was able to “fix” them by deciphering what it was that was upsetting that balance. It was all a mystery to Gwen. As far as she could tell, Bob’s only current motivation was identifying the ideal spot to urinate.

Jezebel stayed close to her mistress. It had been a year since the cougar attack that had nearly killed Jez and she still seemed skittish when they ventured into the forest. The encounter had shaken Gwen too. Since then, she never ventured out after dark and always stayed on the trail. Knowing that she lived smack dab in the middle of a werewolf enclave also gave her pause.

Though Alex had assured her that her supernatural neighbors were bound by pack law to protect—not harm—Gwen, it wasn’t the law-abiders she was worried about.

She’d seen them at their worst—during the first nights of their change. Without exception they’d thrown themselves against the cell bars and snapped and snarled at her, spewing out animalistic threats about how they’d rip out her throat at the first possible opportunity. They didn’t seem at all like model citizens concerned with upholding the mores of polite society.

Gwen pulled the crisp autumn air into her lungs and concentrated on the crunch of the colorful fall leaves under her boots. She’d hiked this trail a hundred times as a child. Grandpa Chaney had walked by her side, teaching her how to tell the difference between a red oak and a white.
“The red oak leaf is pointed—like an arrow,” he’d said. “If you pricked your finger with an arrow, you’d bleed red. The white oak is smooth and round like a river rock. If you put your hand in the cold stream to pluck out a rock, your fingertips would turn white. That’s how you remember which is which.”

He’d taught her the difference between the whistle of a cardinal and the chirp of a robin. Before she could recite the alphabet she’d known how to identify poison ivy. A cozy blanket of nostalgia wrapped around Gwen and she wondered how she’d let herself drift so far from the love of nature that John Chaney had instilled in her.

He’d been preparing me even then, she realized. Though he couldn’t reveal to her what strange things her future held, he’d been quietly laying the groundwork.
Rounding a switchback in the path, Gwen spied Old Mossy—the enormous glacial boulder that marked the halfway point of the trail. The soft green carpet that covered its surface looked the same as it had when she was a kid, but she knew it was very different.

She remembered the day John had pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and passed it to her. “Look closely now, Gwenny. See how the moss isn’t just one big plant but lots of little ones? Every one of them has tiny roots that work their way into the rock and break it up. Can you imagine such a thing? Those soft little plants can turn a great big boulder—millions of years old—into dust.”

It wasn’t until that moment that Gwen understood the lesson. It wasn’t about the erosion of some rock in the forest—it spoke to the thousands of things that could slowly destroy a relationship. She was letting this thing with Alex eat away at her. A year ago she hadn’t even known werewolves existed and now she was willing to risk what she and Alex had because she was intent on becoming one.

What they had was an attraction like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She was drawn to Alex’s sexual energy and it was clear that he hungered for her. Though Alex met all of her physical needs, the two were separated by their realities. Gwen wondered if they would have found each other in the real world. She doubted it.

Stepping over a rotting log on the path, Gwen thought about how the march of time would separate them even further. If she remained human, Alex would live for many lifetimes long after she was gone.

Pack laws regarding her bloodline protected her from the bite that would bring about the change. Only the potion that had changed Alex could make her like him. In that little packet of magical tea, he held her future.

Gwen longed to learn what it would be like if they were equals. More than that, she needed to discover her own potential.

It’ll happen when it happens, she decided.

The winding trail sloped downhill and Gwen knew that a wide, circular clearing was just around the bend. They’d stop there for a few minutes—as they always did—and give Jezebel a chance to catch her breath. Even in the cool air, the dog was already panting and foaming at the mouth.

The golden retriever picked up the pace—surging ahead on the trail—no doubt looking forward to a cool drink and some tummy rubs before they continued. When Gwen caught up with the dogs, both had stopped at the edge of the clearing. The fur along their spines was on end, their heads were lowered and their ears were flattened against their broad heads. But it was the low, rumbling growl from the dogs’ chests that caused Gwen’s blood to run cold.
####


Like what you’ve read so far? Find out what happens next. Buy “Her Alphas” (Book 2 in the Wolf’s Mark series) today! 
Buy it from Ellora's Cave
Buy it from Amazon
Buy it from All Romance eBooks

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

"Her Alphas" is an INSTANT BESTSELLER! Enjoy this excerpt ♥

Darlings,

"Her Alphas" hit the All Romance eBooks virtual shelves on Monday and is already a bestseller! Thank you so much for your support!


Book 2 in the Wolf’s Mark series.
In the shadow world, human laws don’t apply. Here, animal lust and instinct rule. Gwen Chaney has been thrust into this alternate reality by virtue of her lineage. With one foot in the normal world and the other in the supernatural, she must find herself, discover her destiny and submit to her true nature. She is at once savior, sinner, predator and prey. The ferocious love of a werewolf alpha and a cat-shifter king will be either her salvation or her demise.



Enjoy this taste from "Her Alphas"

Copyright © GABRIELLE HOLLY, 2015
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Jenny tilted her face to the full moon and breathed in the cool forest air. Her nose twitched as she detected pine needles, rotting leaves and the musk of living creatures. Each scent brought with it an image, creating a flickering mental slideshow.

In the months since her change, Jenny’s senses had grown almost unbearably acute. It was as if she were experiencing the world for the first time and her mind raced to take it all in.

She could get lost in the complex flavors of fresh fruit—or raw meat—and the glitter of sunlight on the lake took her breath away. This new reality was a better high than she could get from any drug—and she’d tried them all.

A light breeze swirled through the clearing, and when her long blonde hair brushed over her bare skin, she shivered. Every nerve ending seemed to bloom at the slightest touch and she’d begun chasing the feast of new sensations.

Sex used to be the currency she’d traded to survive, but now it fed her ever-growing power. Right up until the night she’d been bitten, Jenny had used her tight little body to get what she needed—food, drugs, a place to crash. She’d coasted from one meaningless business transaction to the next—fucking rich old men in limousines and B-list rock stars on tour busses.

Jenny had never told her new lover about the things she’d had to do to. That woman was dead. She’d been reborn into a new world where her past meant nothing and she could create the future she knew she deserved.

The moment she’d laid eyes on Sergei Markov on her first night in Talbot, she’d known he was her ticket out of life as a drifter. She hadn’t counted on him being able to transport her mind and body with his big cock and the magic of the moon.

She didn’t know if he loved her—and that didn’t matter—she was pretty sure she didn’t love him. One thing was clear—he wanted her desperately—and that was something she could work with.

Just walking naked with him to the clearing— their clearing—was enough to drive her mad. The anticipation of the mystical energy they were about to share made her pussy throb. She knew that when they were done, her body would be wrecked, but she would have stolen some of his strength for her own.

Even as Jenny wondered at the limits of her potential power, she felt her body ripple and contort as the shift overcame her. The howl burst from her chest as she smelled his musk and felt his hot erection press into the small of her back.



So small. So wild.

Sergei stood back on the path, watching Jenny lift her face to the blazing moon. She seemed to be pulling at its energy. The rays turned her silky hair nearly white and he followed the curve of her back past the narrow waist to her tight, round ass.

He tried to probe her mind but was met with static—like a radio that had been tuned between stations. Early on, he’d wondered if she’d been shielding her thoughts, but knew that was impossible for one so freshly-turned.

It took years of experience to put up such psychic walls, especially against one as skilled as he was. He had been pack alpha not so long ago. Reading the minds of his lessers and making them cower beneath his crushing strength had been a benefit of his position. But this one… this one was different.

From the moment she’d stumbled into Talbot—like so many did—freshly bitten and full of anxiety, he’d wanted her. Perhaps it was simply that he’d been alone for so long. Or maybe he was seeking a fresh start.

Jenny was so willing—that was part of her attraction. He’d made a vow that he would never take a female by force.

Once, in a moment of weakness, he’d almost done the unthinkable. He had been frantically clutching to his place as alpha and driven by moon lust when he’d tried to claim the human consort, Gwen Chaney, as his own.

An inexplicable fear had overwhelmed him that night and Sergei had felt an instinctive need to crush the threat he perceived in Gwen. He would never understand what had happened to him—what had fueled his rage—but he would die before he let it happen again. Though he’d been pardoned for that transgression, the shame of it haunted him.

Sergei shook away the memory and focused again on Jenny’s lithe body. It seemed to vibrate with her volatile energy. She was willful, untamed and unpredictable—fueling his frustration and his desire.

His attention was drawn to her beautiful backside. Saliva flooded his mouth as her willowy limbs stretched and the muscles became hyper-defined. Her delicate fingers morphed into claws and fine golden fur erupted through her creamy skin.

Jenny widened her stance, trembling as her feet elongated, the heels sliding up the back of her legs until she balanced on wolfen paws. The marriage of woman and beast was exquisite.

When Jenny threw back her head and howled, Sergei’s own transformation was instant and her human shortcomings were extinguished by his desire. In two long strides the man-beast was pressed against her back, his own moon cry mingling with hers...

Like what you've read so far? Find out what happens next. Buy "Her Alphas" today at Ellora's Cave and All Romance eBooks

Monday, June 1, 2015

Back in the Saddle Again

I think the group America said it best in their poetic hit Sister Golden Hair ... "I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find, but it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind."

It's been far too long since I've typed a line to my darlings. In my absence, I've moved from the frozen wastelands of the Midwest to the sunny, laid-back, hippie haven of northern California. I spent some time with my folks when my father got cancer, and then lost that battle (btw, cancer is an asshole). So many changes - so little writing.

But, as we welcome June - and a beautiful full moon - I'm a happy (and relieved) to announce that I'm Back In The Saddle Again!

The stories that I promised you a half year ago are now back in my sights. I'm looking forward to writing more about the lives, loves, heroes and heroines that you've so graciously told me you want.

Life is good, and short, and precious, and I promise - from here on out, I won't be such a stranger.

With an attitude of boundless gratitude, I'm sending love to you all and I can't wait to reconnect!

xoxo ~ Gabrielle

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Lessons from The Walking Dead

In recent years, my writer's sensibility has been drawn to the brilliant plot lines  and attention to detail in the AMC series, "The Walking Dead." 

This evening's episode started off in the church of a misguided cleric. I filtered out the anger, angst and hoopla and zeroed in on the board in the background on which were posted the readings from the last mass/service offered before the world went to shit (i.e.: the Dead, the Zombies, the Unholy, rose from their resting places and royally fucked things up).


I thought it prudent to look up and quote Chapter & Verse of the readings posted on the board so that my readers could follow along with the storyline. I'll offer no commentary, but let y'all decide for yourselves what the creators intended:

Romans Chapter 6, Verse 4:

Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.

Ezekiel Chapter 37. Verse  7

So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone.

Matthew Chapter 27, Verse 52

The tombs were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised;

Revelations Chapter 9, Verse 6

And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.

Luke Chapter 24 Verse 5

And as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?I

Kudos to the writers for taking a 2,000+ year old text... that means so much to so many... and making it relevant to a piece of fiction.

Monday, July 28, 2014

A Visit from Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York!



We're always thrilled to have the lovely Sabrina York by for a visit. It's been too long since we last chatted, but Her Royal Hotness has been one busy author! I know many of you have been waiting impatiently for Book Five in the Noble Passions series. Well, Darlings, the wait is over! Sabrina stopped by to talk about the series and share a HOT excerpt from Defiant.



About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!




DEFIANT, by Sabrina York
Noble Passions, Book Five

When rakish Ned falls in with the wrong crowd, his brother decides to send him to the Continent for “seasoning”. For Sophia, this just won’t do. She’s loved Ned for ages—and also longed for adventure. She runs away from her boring suitors and disguises herself as a cabin boy on the Defiant, the ship sailing Ned to Italy.

Ned knows he’s not good enough for Sophia, but once they’re on the Defiant, he can’t stop himself from touching her, tasting her, loving her. Not when a wild tempest and a band of ruthless pirates threaten them. Not when every look from her gives him such pleasure. And certainly not when she comes, warm and wild and willing, to his bed.

If they survive their voyage, Sophia’s brother might kill him, but it will have been worth every moment and every hot, sweet kiss.

A Romantica® Regency historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave


Get it now from Ellora's Cave or  Amazon 


READ AN EXCERPT

Sophia stood on the bow of the boat in the dark as the wind and rain lashed her face. She loved it. Loved it. Not only was the storm elemental and fierce, it hid her tears.
Surely she hadn’t expected Ned to greet her with open arms. Not when she had barged in on his adventure as she had. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to be so horrid. His expression had devastated her.
Foolish girl, it said.
But then, her heart agreed.
She was foolish.
Foolish to ever think that he—
“You’re soaked.”
She whirled around, though she knew what she’d see. More glowering.
She was right.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m reveling.” She thrust out her chin, in case he didn’t believe her.
He gaped at her. “Reveling?”
“Yes.” She didn’t mean to shout, but his wintry demeanor annoyed her tremendously. She threw out her arms. “Look at this!”
“It’s a storm.”
“It’s beautiful. The waves are wild, untamed—”
“You could be swept overboard.”
“The wind is howling and the rain is savage. It’s glorious.”
“It’s freezing. Come inside.”
“It’s not freezing. It’s summer.”
I’m cold.”
“Then you go inside.”
“Sophia Fiona—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your name.”
“You sound like Ewan.”
“I’m starting to think Ewan is a saint.”
She glared at him. “What a beastly thing to say.” She hated that her chin wobbled a little. Hated that he winced.
“I’m sorry, Sophia. This has been trying for me.” He sluiced the water from his face. “Won’t you please come inside?”
“All right. Fine.”
“You will?”
“You did say please.”
He blew out a breath and offered her his arm. She frowned at it. “I’m a cabin boy, remember? You don’t offer a cabin boy your arm.” When he didn’t lower it, she smacked it. “Someone will see.”
That caught his attention and he slowly lowered his arm. “Right then. Come inside.” He followed her back to the cabin, his stride decidedly unsteady. If anyone was tipping overboard, it was most likely him.
When she once again stood in his chambers, she realized the folly of her actions. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes and she was drenched. So was he. Without a word, he relit the lamp and then opened his trunk and pulled out several shirts, two of which he tossed to her. “Change.”
That was it. One word. Just “change” and then he presented her with his back. She huffed a breath, but did as he asked because she was really rather cold. The feel of the cloth falling over her chilled flesh warmed her. Because it was his shirt. It had touched his skin. She wasn’t sure why the thought sent heat scudding through her belly.
“Use the other shirt to dry your hair,” he suggested, as he began toweling off as well.
She huffed a laugh. “All of your clothes will be wet.”
“They’ll dry. Are you clothed?”
“Yes.”
He turned. And froze. His gaze locked onto her bare legs. “I-I thought you said you were clothed.” A squawk.
“I am.” But the intensity of his stare made her self-conscious, so she slipped into the bed.
“Close your eyes,” he said as he unbuttoned the damp linen clinging to his chest.
“Why?”
“I need to change as well. I’m f-freezing.”
“Okay.” She did. But she peeked.
He ripped off his wet shirt and her breath caught at the sight of his broad back. Muscles rippled as he moved and she swallowed. He was beautiful. He tugged the fresh shirt over his head and she nearly whimpered as that magnificent vision disappeared. But then, he unfastened his trousers.
All pretense of not peeking evaporated.
He sat and took a moment to work off his boots. And then he stood. His trousers were tight, as was the fashion, and he had to peel them off. As he bent, she caught a flash of his bare behind.
She must have made a noise because he whirled around. His cheek bunched when he saw her watching. “You’re supposed to have your eyes closed.”
She hunkered in the covers, as though that would disguise the fact that her eyes were open wide.
“Sophia…”
It was probably wrong to grin at him, but she couldn’t help it.
“Sophia Fiona!”
“Stop calling me that. It always makes me think I’m in trouble.”
“You are in trouble. You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”
She tipped her head to the side. “We both know Ewan will be so relieved to see me, he’ll forget how angry he is—”
Ned stilled and fixed her with a dark glare. “What makes you think I’m talking about Ewan?”
“I… ah…”
“I’ve a mind to bend you over my knee.”
Why a shiver rippled through her, she had no idea. She’d been spanked once or twice as a child and she hadn’t cared for it in the slightest. But something dark and domineering in Ned’s tone made her womb warm.
“You-you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I? Now, look away. Your brother would skewer me if I gave you the education you’re about to have.”
She attempted not to snort. Ned—and everyone—thought her a prim and innocent miss on account of the polish she’d acquired at Lady Satterlee’s. Nothing could be further from the truth. As a child, before Ewan had made his fortune, they’d lived a hand-to-mouth existence in the slums of Perth. She’d seen more than one couple rutting against a wall in a dingy alleyway. And at one point, she and her brother had taken refuge in a bordello. She’d been only seven, but if she’d had an education, she got it there. She could probably teach Ned a few things.
Still, because he seemed to expect it, she squeezed her eyes tight and didn’t hardly peek at all as he finished changing. Besides which, the spot she was interested in was mostly shadows.
With a great huff, he threw himself back into the chair. “Now, go to sleep.”
“Don’t you want me to put out the light?”
“No. I want to be able to see where you are.”
“I’m not leaving again tonight.” Probably. Unless her despair overcame her once more.
“Leave it on.” A grunt, and not a very nice one at that. Why he had call to be annoyed, she couldn’t fathom.
Blast and damn, he was an annoying man. Sophia grunted as well and rolled over, facing the wall of the cabin. She studied the patterns the swinging lamp made for a long while, listening as he shifted one way and then the other.
It was really unfair for him to have to sleep in the chair. This was his room. But he would never share her bed. She grimaced at the way the words came out, but it was true. He wouldn’t. Unless…
She rolled over again and watched him twist in the chair. He caught her eye and frowned.
“Ned?”
An impatient groan. “Yes, Sophia?”
“Ned, I’m cold.”
He stilled. Then barked, “Put on another blanket.”
“There aren’t any more.” She faked a shiver. She wasn’t cold in the slightest. She never was. Ewan said she ran hot. “Brr. My teeth are chattering.”
His glower became a frown.
“I hope I don’t get ill.”
He paled. “You shouldn’t have gone out in the rain. Why did you go out in the rain?”
She sneezed. Or something like it. “I don’t know.”
“Sophia?”
“Am I running a fever?” She put her palm to her forehead. “I think I’m running a fever.”
His brow wrinkled. He stood and made his way across the tiny chamber as though on his death march. He set the backs of his fingers to her cheeks. His frown darkened. “You are warm.”
“No. I’m cold.” She shivered and peered up at him, her eyes as wide as she could make them. “Won’t you warm me?”
He wrenched his hand away as though she’d burned him. “What?”
“Lie here beside me and warm me up?”
“There’s not enough room for both of us.”
“I’m small.”
“Sophia.” She’d never heard her name in such a strangled voice, not even when Ewan was at his wit’s end.
“Just for a bit? You can be on top of the covers. Surely that is decent.”
The muscle in his cheek bunched again, as though he were grinding his teeth.
“Please?”
He gusted a sigh. “All right, Sophia. Scoot over and make room.”
She did. With alacrity.
“And roll over, facing the wall.”
She frowned at him “Why?”
“Just do it. Please.”
“Oh, all right.” But only because he said please. And because, when she was facing the other way, he couldn’t see her grin.
He settled in behind her and a shiver rocked her. He was warm. And he smelled delicious. Not fishy in the slightest. It was delightful, lying here with him. She closed her eyes and imagined he wanted this as much as she.
If only. If only.

Check out the other books in the Noble Passions Series from Sabrina York
Follow the decadent exploits of friends and enemies as they find love and passion in the glittering world of the Regency—and its dark underbelly.

http://www.amazon.com/Folly-Sabrina-York-ebook/dp/B00A0LC0CU/ref=la_B00856PDEO_1_11?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1393037465&sr=1-112014 EPIC eBook Award Finalist
2013 Passionate Plume Finalist

Widowed and threatened with penury by her heartless in-laws, Eleanor--Lady Ulster--hatches a plot to save herself. Determined to produce the Ulster "heir", she seduces a stranger at a tawdry masquerade. Little does she know, this magnificent masked lover is none other than her husband's greatest nemesis. And God knows Ulster had plenty.

Ethan Pennington is mortified to arrive at a house party and discover Lady Ulster in attendance. He has wanted her and hated wanting her--his enemy's bride--for years. When he overhears Eleanor's predicament and her plans to place a cuckoo in the Ulster nest, he is more than willing to oblige. The opportunity to finally claim her--while taking the revenge he craves--is more than he can resist. Ethan strikes a bargain with Eleanor, promising to provide her with the heir she so desperately needs...if she will meet his needs in return. Every decadent one of them.



The sizzling prequel to Folly
2014 Winner of the Carolyn Readers’ Choice Award

http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Fancy-Sabrina-York-ebook/dp/B00AN86ILY/ref=pd_sim_kstore_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=1BXH79GVAG8DY55AC15DWhen Lady Helena Simpson flees an unwanted marriage to a revolting lord, she finds refuge with James, a charming, handsome man unlike any she’s ever known. Helena concocts the perfect solution to her problem. She asks—begs—James to ruin her. Surely her betrothed will repudiate her if she is no longer pure. And if all her efforts fail and she still ends up married to a horrid man until the end of her days, she will at least once have known true passion.

But James is not all he seems. He is, in fact, a wicked lord with a dark fancy. When Helena awakens his desire, he becomes determined to take everything she has to offer and more. No matter the cost.





http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Duke-3-Noble-Passions-ebook/dp/B00ID8MAJU/ref=pd_sim_b_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=1E7WS1HSZJEJ1BX9HKZ6Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke of Moncrieff’s life has been turned on its end. His well-ordered home has been invaded. By destitute relatives. From Scotland. How on earth can he write Lord Hedon’s salacious novels with hellions battling in the garden and starting fires in the library? But with the onslaught has come a delicious diversion. His cousin’s companion, the surprisingly intriguing Kaitlin MacAllister. He is determined to seduce her. Using her desperate need for funds and her talents as an artist, he convinces her to draw naughty pictures for his naughtier books…and he draws her into his decadent web.

But Kaitlin has a secret. She’s fled Scotland—and a very determined betrothed. When Edward’s cousin is kidnapped and held in her stead, Kaitlin is honor-bound to return to her homeland and rescue her—much to Edward’s chagrin.

Because suddenly he can’t bear the thought of Kaitlin marrying another man. He can’t bear the thought of losing her at all.


http://www.amazon.com/Brigand-Noble-Passions-Sabrina-York-ebook/dp/B00JUTD3L0Kidnapped and held prisoner by menacing Scottish brigand, the notorious McCloud, Violet Wyeth does her best to persevere…and resist his rakish charms. But when she realizes The McCloud is really Ewan St. Andrews, the boy who once saved her life, the boy who once kissed her and made her heart flutter, she is lost.

Ewan has every intention of marrying Lady Kaitlin MacAllister. He desperately needs the entrée into the ton this bride can provide. But when his bride is delivered—bound and gagged—it’s not Kaitlin. It’s Violet Wyeth—the girl who betrayed him and ruined his life when he was a boy. He keeps her, determined to punish her for her sins. But when he discovers the truth about what really happened so long ago, and seething passion rises between them, he can no longer hold on to his rusty grudge. By the time he realizes how much he loves Violet—that he always has—he’s lost her.

All he can do is follow her. Follow her into the bowels of hell—and partake in the torment of the glittering London Season, where the harpies are far more dangerous than a Scottish brigand.

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 Thanks so much for stopping by Sabrina! Come back any time ♥