I am very excited to share with you my latest release Tangled Redemption, book 4 in my Celestial Surrender series. It is a super-sexy Sci-Fi menage and a story that has been on my mind since Miguel walked on to the page in Tangled Shadows, book 1 in the series. It was an adventure to tell Miguel, Sydney and Jayden’s story and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.
Come by my website for a chance to win a copy of Tangled Redemption or a $50 gift card.
Sydney Radnall is no man’s toy, despite fate’s attempt to make her just that. But kidnapping puts her at the mercy of a sadistic Feral commander. Being held prisoner is bad enough, but her Naema blood is powerful. In her current Vampiric company her presence is like ringing a dinner bell.
In an attempt to break her, the commander makes her the pet of two of his lieutenants. Miguel is one of the most dangerous men she has ever met, but she can’t stop the attraction blazing between them. Then there is Jayden, a Vampire who is as surprising as he is sexy. Two Vampires she should not be attracted to, should not want to surrender to, should not trust.
But things aren’t always what they seem. Secrets and lies shadow their connections, making it impossible to see clearly. What are the chances of her finding lifemates while surrounded by enemies? Making the wrong decision could not just shatter her heart. It could cost her life.
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An Excerpt From: TANGLED REDEMPTION
Copyright © TINA CHRISTOPHER, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
When the Feral Vampire strode up to her, a malicious grin curving his thin lips, fangs glistening, Sydney Radnall knew she would never again allow anyone to take her blood. She would die first.
There were three of them. The other two stayed slightly behind, fanning out and blocking the entrance.
Marissa, the young human who had been taken from Parvati at the same time as Sydney, stood beside her. Their shoulders bumped. Marissa’s shook, but she raised her fists as if to fend off the three Vampires with her bare hands.
No way in fucking hell.
Sydney straightened her shoulders, rolled her neck and took a step forward. She smiled.
The lead Feral’s gaze narrowed.
She didn’t give him a chance to respond, but leaped and rammed her knee into his groin. He folded over with a whimper. She grabbed a hunk of his hair and slammed the bottom of her palm into his nose. Cartilage crunched as she jammed the shattered bones into his brain.
Eyes wide he dropped to the floor. Dead.
Sydney panted. She touched the cold synth-metal wall of the spaceship for a second but stopped herself from rubbing her sore hand. The other two Ferals gaped at her. She wanted to smirk, but she’d lost the advantage of surprise.
They recovered and converged on her. Before they had taken even one step the door slid open and Tall, Dark and Dangerous, the man—no, the Vampire—responsible for her kidnapping, strode in.
He appeared to grasp the situation with one look and grabbed the nearest Feral, killing him with a quick twist of the neck. The third attacker froze.
Sydney took a couple of steps back to give herself more room. She would fight to the bitter end.
“Honorable Radnall, what are you planning to do?” His seductive voice slid across her in an inappropriate manner. He was taller than her, something that didn’t happen often. His skin was darkly tanned. Thick dark-brown hair framed his arresting face as if he hadn’t had the opportunity to get it cut for some time. His eyes gave nothing away. With every movement, every inch of his muscular body, he demonstrated he was a warrior.
She had trained with men like him, had been taught by them, but she had never managed to best even one of them.
He crossed his arms before his chest. The final Feral moved against her. Dark and Dangerous gestured and two of the Ferals who had accompanied him grabbed the attacker.
Sydney was not surprised he was the leader. The power of a highly trained warrior and powerful Vampire cloaked him. He raised a brow at her.
Unlike her attackers his eyes were black, not red. The red identified Ferals as Vampires who drained their prey of blood while inducing horror and panic. In one of the few instances of cooperation between the three major species, the Naema Senate, the Vampire Council and the human government had agreed that Ferals were an unacceptable danger. Law enforcement as well as civilians had permission to shoot Ferals on sight without repercussions.
Over the last year or so scattered Feral groups had come together under one leader to smuggle humans as blood slaves, a crime that, if it became public knowledge, would incite another Human-Vampire War. A war far more devastating than the one three centuries ago.
She mirrored his stance. “My parents told me not to talk to strangers.”
His lips quirked. “Miguel Calatrave, at your service, Honorable Radnall.” He gestured to the dead body. “Now, if you would please explain?”
She couldn’t defend herself against his voice. Goose bumps rose in its wake.
Sydney stood even straighter. “They entered with one clear intent. An intent that I won’t allow.”
His nostrils flared, but the flash of rage was gone too quickly for her to be certain. It seemed the Ferals had ignored his orders.
“You will not allow? All right, Honorable Radnall. You have one out of the way. I took care of another. How will you deter anyone from coming in here to drink your or the human’s blood?”
She stared at him. Was he serious? Why would he want her to kill one of his own?
Sydney swallowed and observed the Vampire being held by Calatrave’s men. He’d clenched his jaw. The skin across his face was stretched tight, muscles bulging, making his two keepers struggle to hold him. His red eyes, eyes that proved he had killed humans without compassion, blazed.
She didn’t have much time.
Her chest tightened and she looked back into Calatrave’s jet-black eyes. His expression was impassive.
Her first kill had been self-defense. The next one had to be an execution. The last man she had killed had been a traitor to her country and her planet. A traitor to her species. A traitor to her.
My Writing Space(s)
Oh! This subject is near and dear to my heart. When I first decided that writing was going to be my full-time career, I began writing literally all over the place.
Peppermint Creek Inn was my first ever finished book. The writing seed burst with this story idea and I began to sketch it out long hand while my dad and I were travelling in Northern Ontario, Canada, on one of our “ghost town” hunting trips to a place called “Jackfish”. (one of the settings in Peppermint Creek Inn)
During this time, my writing space was in the car, in the tent, by the campfire, sitting on picnic tables with the Coleman lantern and yes! even in my kayak during leisurely breaks while floating in lakes and along rivers.
Long hand writing continued at a yoyo pace around temporary office and factory jobs. During down times I went to the cottage up near Minden (no electricity at the cottage). While there, I used my Alpha Smart or wrote long hand while sitting on the lawn chair on our dock during heat waves or lounging in a hammock on a cliff overlooking the lake, and finally during the winter months on cottage visits, I sat indoors beside a cozy antique wood stove or on sunny afternoons outside on a lawn chair on the frozen lake and for company build comfy little fires built on pieces of metal to help prevent the melting ice from killing my fires. Back in civilization, I pounded the keys of my computer or laptop getting all the handwritten information in.
A Hero’s Welcome, A Hero Escapes, A Hero Betrayed, A Hero’s Kiss and the first couple of Outlaw Lovers stories where all sketched out long hand in fat notebooks while sitting in my car during cold winter evenings. Why outside? My mom babysat and I escaped the noise into my car, driving down to Lake Ontario, parking in abandoned parks. It was spooky, but it was also fun flipping on the car heater once an hour to punch through the chill and watching my stories emerge. During the days, I would pound the information into my computer at home.
Later, as my writing career took off (thank you to Ellora’s Cave!!!) and sales rocketed, I bought more stories and produced more stories and I was able to buy 4 acres of land in cottage country. I continued writing at the cottage and also commuted back and forth to my piece of paradise land to sit and write while on a hammock with pesky mosquitoes buzzing around my head.
Then I ordered a modular home and had it put onto my property. Outside my house, my writing spaces included a lawn chair with laptop and that same hammock (mentioned above). Inside my new two-bedroom office home, a sunny bedroom with computer was my office.
These days I continue to work in several places. My favorite is a nice quiet room over my garage, where scented candles flicker and bookshelves hold my nearest and dearest paperback books. I still write long hand as ideas pop up. To give my hands a break, sometimes I use Speech Recognition (Dragon Speech) and I have a nice printer and a couple of laptops and a computer now.
But those first few years while starting out writing in the car, are still nearest and dearest to my heart.
Hugs and Happy Reading!
For those of you who love erotic romances and romantic suspense, you’ll probably know who I am talking about. I started my erotic romance writing career cutting my teeth on reading every book that came out by Lora Leigh.
Her books (and a few other pioneering Ellora’s Cave authors) inspired me to write erotic romances. Lora Leigh’s books introduced me to daring ménages and adult toys. She made me fall in love with hot, sexy, heroes and strong yet vulnerable heroines. When I first read her “August” trilogy – Marly’s Choice, Sarah’s Seduction, and Heather’s Gift (Ellora’s Cave) I was soooooo hooked I couldn’t think straight. Instinctively I knew these were the types of books I wanted to write. Her stories were unique and they affected me physically. They aroused me, seduced me and teased me into reading more and more from her.
Hers are the types of books I ache to write. I aspire to be like Lora Leigh. I doubt I will ever be as good a creator as she is, but if I can come close, I will have achieved a cherished dream. Lora Leigh is the author I want to write like and if I ever get a chance to meet her or have the luck to work with her some day, I will have experienced another passionate dream and I will die with a smile on my face. *grin*
Here are some more stories by Lora Leigh.
I’m in the business of reading and writing tons of love scenes and one of the favorite ones I’ve ever come across would have to be the first love scene between Teyla and Logan in The Pleasure Girl – Book 1 of my Desperadoes series (Siren Bookstrand).
Teyla is a pleasure girl in a post-catastrophic world where electricity has been knocked out and the world’s climate has gotten colder. In order to survive women do things they’d never ordinarily do. Logan has come to Teyla’s secluded farmhouse looking for a warm bed and a sexy lover for himself and two of his friends. He plans on being with her alone for one night before his friends arrive.
Here’s a snippet of a prelude to a love scene that some readers have told me they loved because it was unique because of the hero’s request of wanting to be shaved…down there. LOL
“Do you have a special man in your life?” The question erupted from the bathroom, rocking her world.
“Excuse me?” she called out, wondering exactly what he meant by that question.
“A boyfriend? Husband? Someone you’re dating?”
“Good. I prefer a woman who is available.”
Teyla blinked in astonishment. Odd comment coming from a guy who wanted to share her with two other guys. Three guys and her? Oh, lord, she’d better not think about it.
“Do you do this often?” she blurted, instantly regretting asking the question, realizing it was none of her business. But it was the first thing that popped into her mind, and when she was nervous, she did have the tendency to say stupid things.
He appeared at the doorway, shaving utensils and a couple of facecloths laid out on a folded towel in his hand. That damned bottle and two glasses clutched in his other hand.
He was smiling at her. That hot, sexy shadow made him look both dangerous and erotic at the same time. He wore that same crooked smile as when he’d caught her watching him at the window earlier. The smile made the sides of his eyes crinkle, and she noticed tiny laugh lines at the corners of his mouth also. The knowledge that he appeared to be used to laughing made her feel so much better. Safer, too.
“Why do you ask?” he asked. “Are you jealous already?”
His sense of humor was a definite asset.
“Maybe,” she teased, feeling some of the tension ease out of her shoulders.
He strolled to her dresser with the mirror and placed the glasses and the bottle, which she noted as whiskey, and the utensils and towel down beside her pitcher.
“Before we begin, I want you to shave me,” he said softly as he prepared the items, laying them out on the dresser.
When he finished, he looked at her, and his intense gaze made her catch her breath. She didn’t want him to lose that erotic-looking five o’clock shadow. It made him look so sexy and dangerous. The look excited her. But he was paying her. If he wanted a shave, so be it.
She made a move to stand, but he ordered her to remain sitting as he whipped up the lather. When it was a frothy cream, he turned to her, and to her surprise, his hand fell to the stud on his jeans.
Nervousness fluttered through her again. Gosh, she thought she would have a few minutes more before they had sex. Or did he want her to shave him while they were having sex? Lordy, now that would be interesting.
“I…I thought you wanted a shave?”
Her eyes latched onto his fingers as he unzipped.
She swallowed as he lowered his jeans. His package pressed boldly against his white briefs. Definitely big. Very big. Oh boy. Oh boy. Dr. Liz, girl, what have you gotten me into?
“I want you to shave me down here,” he said and stroked the outline of his big erection.
Her eyes widened at his words.
Down there? Oh my God.
“I’ll pass you the items. I want you to just sit right where you are.” His voice had gone deeper, hoarser. His eyes darker. They glistened with fire. His body scent, strong and dominant, whispered along her nerve endings, making her very aware of her sexuality. Very aware of him.
“Pull down my underwear. So we can get started.”
Both their breaths shot through the silent air like rockets, and her fingers trembled as she did as he asked. His flesh felt scorching hot to her touch as she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs. Tugging, she inhaled sharply as…
Here’s a bit more as the scene continues a couple of paragraphs later…
Anxiety almost overwhelmed her as she began to shave him, and she found herself scrambling for something to say. But what did one say while shaving a man in such an intimate area on his body?
“Have you done this before?” he asked, his voice sounding strangled, as if he were maybe afraid? Well, maybe he should have asked before she’d gotten started.
“It’s a little late to be asking that question, isn’t it?” She couldn’t help but laugh.
“I hope not,” he retorted, amusement lacing his voice. There was that humor again. She smiled and lifted her gaze from his magnificent size to peer up at his face. She shouldn’t have looked up because his eyes were so dark with desire she could barely stand the spear of need bursting inside her lower belly.
The tips of his luscious lips tilted upward again and his smile zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. Suddenly she just wanted to be swept away into his strong arms. To be held. To be taken by him.
Oh, boy. He was a client, for God’s sake! Becoming emotionally involved, even thinking emotional things was taboo! Men looked at her like an object. Nothing more. She shouldn’t want to have Logan holding her and making love to her. This is just sex, remember that, Teyla.
She continued with the shave, going slowly and carefully and keeping her mouth shut. Thankfully, he said no more, and when she finished, she wiped him with the wet face cloth he handed her. A couple of rinses later, he was as clean as a newborn.
“I assume you wish to supply the condoms?” he asked after he returned the shaving items to the nearby dresser. She nodded and pointed to the night table beside the bed.
“In there. Pick your size.” He slid the drawer open and skimmed the several boxes with his fingertips. Obviously, he knew the drill with pleasure girls. Most preferred to supply the condoms. She was one of them.
Condoms were expensive, just like everything else these days, but well worth the expense to ensure her condoms were fresh and hadn’t been tampered with or inadvertently damaged. Men tended to keep them folded in wallets or in areas where tiny holes were inadvertently poked into the protection. The last thing she needed was a sexually transmitted disease or a baby without a dad.
He lifted out a box of condoms, opened it, but didn’t take any out.
“Before we begin, let’s get a little more acquainted. You’ve touched me and seen some of me. Now it’s my turn. Let your breasts free.”
To her surprise, she creamed at his instruction. She liked the expectant look on his face, and for some odd reason, he didn’t make her feel like she was dirty as most of her clients did. He didn’t make her feel like an object. He just made her feel kind of sexy and shy.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the small, delicate buttons on the negligee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he watched…
I hoped you enjoyed the excerpts to the prelude to one of my favorite love scenes.
More info on The Pleasure Girl .
Today’s post is about our favorite love scene…specifically, mine. This topic actually made me squirm in my seat because I’m a little shy, believe it or not. 🙂 So I’m going to dive in and just get the blushing over with.
I have two and a half favorites, actually. The first one is, predictably, from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander. It’s the first time Jamie and Claire have sex, and it just kills me every time I read it. He’s a virgin. Everything that leads up to this moment lets your know how important it is to him and how awkward it is for her. They talk, marking the time passing by a ringed candle (one ring burned away for each hour). Then Jamie begins to touch her. He talks about gentling her, not sure what he’s supposed to do. It’s the sweetest love scene. It’s poignant in a way that, knowing their story, just kills me.
The “half” is actually from the same story. Jamie and Claire are in an underground cavern with a pool, sort of a warm spring. They’re rediscovering each other, finding their way back to what they were. I absolutely love, love, love Diana’s description of this love scene. It’s passionate and emotionally deep. The connection is so far from physical. I absolutely get chills thinking about it. If you haven’t read this book, go forth and do so. Now.
Alright. Here’s the other favorite. It’s hands down my very favorite erotic scene in the entire world. Ever. Without exception. It’s written by Denise Rossetti. The book? Gift of the Goddess (Phoenix Rising, Book One). The main hero, Brin…just thinking about him makes the seams of my jammies begin to unravel. He’s hawt to the millionth degree, folks. I’m talking spontaneous-panty-combusting hawt. He’s absolutely everything that flips my switch, from alpha to compassionate to smart to self-sacrificing. I want to eat him up, one slow bite at a time. So which scene is my favorite? I’m going to be honest and tell you that if he’s in the scene, it’s my favorite. I’ve never been a fan of straight fantasy (which this book is), but this book made me learn to look twice.
Brin is a shaman of Lufra’s, the goddess of pleasure (basic summary). He’s been trained to pleasure a woman beyond her wildest dreams, and he’s really, really…gifted. (fans self) I’d offer myself up as a sacrifice. Let’s just leave it at that.
If you haven’t read either of these books, you should give them a shot. I love them both for entirely different reasons.
What’s your favorite love scene? Is it passionate or emotional? Subtle or graphic? In one book or ten? I love to hear from readers, so feel free to chime in!
Hm, my bulletproof kink? Something I will read no matter what? The closest I come to that would be a menage story. I love the idea of two men (I’m good with up to three, after that it gets a little too much for me) and one woman. Having the complete attention of two or three men? Very exciting. Their touch, their kiss, their every move with one goal in mind-to get her flying so high she never comes down.
I like it best when the men share a relationship, for me that gives it that extra kick. There is just something sensual about her watching her two strong men together. Hm, I wonder if there is a touch of a voyeur in me…;). But the two men together is not a must. The one thing it has to have is a happy ending for EVERYONE. I am not a big fan of the third who just joins in for a few kicks and giggles. It can be sexy, but somehow I always feel sorry for the one who then watches the couple walk down the aisle.
Still, I need to enjoy and like the characters, and the story has to be plausible. No deus ex machina (or deus ex macarena as a friend calls it;), no TSTL and no So-Alpha-He’s-A-Jackass hero. And the words need to be good, just as Denise said;). The sex scenes need to flow (no trying to figure out where her leg is and how his hand ended up there).
The second thing I check out on a man, after the sexy abs or the cute smile, whatever captured my attention first, are his hands. I love long fingers with clean nails. No matter how absolutely gorgeously hot the body is, if the fingernails are long or dirty, it turns me off. And I’m not talking about a mechanic who’d scrubbed his fingers, but couldn’t get everything off. I’m talking about not caring, about being unkempt.
But when he has those long, strong fingers, maybe with a slight roughness to them? Oh-la-la! Imagining them stroking across my skin and other parts of my body…
Is there something your other half has to have?
As always, I must start my post with a shout out to my ManHandlers! You guys are the best followers EVAH! Thanks for hanging tight and helping to make this blog a success. Ever click you offer, every time you share our link, every time you buy one of our books, you make what we do so worthwhile. Thank you! With that in mind, here’s your bi-weekly (that’s twice a month, right?) ManHandler pic. Enjoy!
Now for the, uh, meat of the post. Heh. Yeah, I couldn’t help that. Sorry. Sort of. Okay, not really. We at Darker Temptations are talking about the ideal Pleasure Planet this go round. I have the distinct disadvantage of showing up after Sabrina Garie. Her post is absolutely brilliant and I wish I’d written it. Since I didn’t, I’m afraid I’m going to be reiterating some of her ideas.
What would a pleasure planet be for you? For your significant other? Spouse? Best friend? Lover? The answer is likely different for everyone I listed. One thing I can say with authority, though, is that pleasure of some sort would be involved. It’s the level we take that pleasure to that defines us as individuals. For me, the pleasure would be distinctly sexual. Yep, I said it. If I’m going to sign up for pleasure, I need — and expect — more than a foot rub. I want full-blown (again? yeah, I went there again), hard-bodied, nearly-physically-impossible, full-body orgasms involved. You know, the toe-curling kind we write about. I could go on, but we’d delve into the arena of TMI so fast you’d have whiplash and I’d be blushing until the next inauguration. Not something I’m ready to do at this point. For one night with Sam Bond? Hell, yes. For a blog post? Uh-uh.
Anyhoo, the idea is that pleasure is involved. Let’s assume, for the sake of this blog, that we’re talking about sexual pleasure. Every person would arrive to the Pleasure Planet with different expectations. For some, they’d be content with a massage while they were hand-fed prime fruit. Others would expect a St. Andrew’s cross, restraints, latex and whips. There are levels of pleasure in between the extremes that would satisfy any craving one might have.
What about body types? Again, you’d have every type represented, from super slender and athletic to robust and buxom women. Men would be skinny and funny or muscular, religiously hung and primally skilled. Yeah, there’s the edge of that TMI thing. Okay, so back to body types. Everyone has a “type” they prefer. No one should be mocked for what they declare as sexually appealing. I’m 6’1″ and not super thin anymore. Am I unappealing? To some, yes. To other, no. It’s all about the fantasies you’ve cultivated based on everything from upbringing to culture to secret fetishes.
So what about location? Temperature? Beaches or mountainous? Cuisine served? Seasons? You see where I’m going with this. Everyone has different ideas about what flips that switch for them. No one is right and absolutely no one is wrong. Period. Okay, if you involve minors, unwilling partners or barnyard animals, you’re wrong on so many levels I can’t even go there. But for those of us playing on the field I’ve drafted, you’re not going to meet with any flack. A menage does it for you? More power to you. Being totally dominated tips you over the edge? Hell, go for it. And if you want seven women and twenty men in bed with you? Go for it. And good luck. Four men with long hair, huge…hands and training in the Kama Sutra and Tantric sex? Oh, shit. Is it hot in here? No? Then I’m blushing. God, I hope the next inauguration is soon.*
*No political reference intended.*