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2013 Reading Challenge
Jen (That's What I'm Talking About) has
read 0 books toward her goal of 75 books.
New-To-Me Authors
2013 reading goal:
15 new-to-me authors.
1) Stacy Gail
2) Heather Massey
3) Sidney Bristol
4) Ann Mayburn
5) Thea Harrison
6) Virna DePaul
7) Mary Quast
8) Molly Harper
9) Eleri Stone
10) PJ Schnyder
11) Kait Ballenger
12) Denise L. Wyant
13) Lucy Monroe
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Showing posts with label Sneak Peek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sneak Peek. Show all posts
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Random House Spotlight Book
THE DEMON LOVER by Juliet Dark
Random House Publishing
December 2011
448 pages
Purchase Info:
The Demon Lover: A Novel
Random House Publishing
December 2011
448 pages
Since accepting a teaching position at remote Fairwick College in upstate New York, Callie McFay has experienced the same disturbingly erotic dream every night: A mist enters her bedroom, then takes the shape of a virile, seductive stranger who proceeds to ravish her in the most toe-curling, wholly satisfying ways possible. Perhaps these dreams are the result of her having written the bestselling book The Sex Lives of Demon Lovers. Callie’s lifelong passion is the intersection of lurid fairy tales and Gothic literature—which is why she’s found herself at Fairwick’s renowned folklore department, living in a once-stately Victorian house that, at first sight, seemed to call her name.
Right now you can get a glimpse of this recent release from Random House right here at That's What I'm Talking About:
A must-read for paranormal romance fans: THE DEMON LOVER: A Novel by Juliet Dark (excerpt)
Purchase Info:
The Demon Lover: A Novel
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Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday Snippet #64
Taken By Fire
by Sydney Croft
Bantam DellJune 28, 2011
**NOTE: this SNEAK PEEK comes from an uncorrected galley copy of the book**
“My powers are almost out.”
Thank fucking God. “Keep going.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she murmured. “I’m killing you.”
“No one’s ever died from blue balls,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Well, no, he wasn’t fine at all. And as she let off the last of her icy blasts, his body was rocked with the most painful urges he’d ever felt. He clawed the ground and tried to breathe, looked any- where but at Mel, and his eyes fell on the waterfall.
His erection was a steel rod and fucking painful. Hell, maybe this would be the best thing for him—a cold shower times a million.
He took off at a dead run, not stopping until he hit the water. Kept going until his body was under the freezing wash and he was shivering.
Bye-bye, erection; hello, hypothermia.
“Stryker—are you okay?” Melanie was asking, from directly in front of him. She’d stripped naked, her skin glistening with crystal water droplets, but she didn’t seem affected by the cold at all. Well, her nipples were pert, hard little buds ... and this wasn’t helping anything.
“You’ll freeze.”
“Um, no. Cold doesn’t affect me. At all.” She glanced down. “Doesn’t appear to be doing you much good either.”
“Fuck. Mel, please, just give me a few minutes.”
But she was in his arms then, her mouth on his, so damned warm and willing, her legs wrapped around his waist. His body felt right against hers, his body continuing to beg for mercy from his arousal in an all-consuming way, until he couldn’t think straight ... couldn’t see straight.
That wasn’t from hypothermia either.
Her fingers wound through his wet hair and his hands held her hips, moved them back and forth, wanting nothing more than to be inside of her, right here and now.
But fuck, he couldn’t. He promised Devlin, and he did not go back on his word.
He pulled back, rested his forehead against hers. “Sorry, Mel,” he said over the slight rushing roar of the water, his voice raw.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Sunday Snippets #61
Vampire in Atlantis
Berkley Sensation Publishing
June 7, 2011
With a desperation born of passion, he took her mouth with his own. Claimed it--claimed her--though he could never deserve to keep her. Kissed her as if he were a dying man and she the only chance at life.“Remember this,” he said fiercely. “Remember the feel of my mouth on yours, my body against yours, when you find that perfect Atlantean man someday.”
She started to protest, be he silenced her with his lips, kissing her so hard and deep that he could almost pretend that she belonged to him and always would. It would have helped him find his way back to sanity if she’d fought him.
Instead she pulled him closer, and he was lost.
Long minutes later, he raised his head, coming back to himself enough to realize they stood unprotected in the middle of the path, and their enemies were closer than was safe. Serai clung to him, her body trembling, and he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to strip her clothes from her and take her, bury his cock in her warm sweetness, and make her his.His timing sucked.
“I love you,” she said.
And the bottom fell out of his world.
He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out but a hoarse, choked noise, and then finally he made his stunned brain work and words happened. “Your timing sucks.”
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sunday Snippets #51
Sneak Peek from Magic on the Hunt by Devon Monk
Roc Publishing
April 5, 2011
**NOTE: this except comes from an uncorrected ARC copy of the book**
“We headed out. My phone rang. Zay. Again.
Seriously, couldn’t the man catch a hint?
I answered. “Beckstrom.”
“Where’s everyone off to?”
I scanned the street. Zay was standing on the corner across the street, Shamus behind him, leaning against the building, smoking.
Oh, for Pete’s sake.
“Nowhere.”
“That so? Looks like you’ve got a hunt on your hands.”
“It was a meeting.”
He started across the street. The light hadn’t changed, but somehow traffic seemed to move in rhythm to his stride, a perfect path opening up as he moved across the street toward me, not once taking his eyes off me. Man walked like a goddamned god.
“Who are they hunting? What are they hunting? What are you up to, Allison, my love?”
He was across three lanes, one more before he was in front of me. That is, if a bus didn’t hit him.
“None of your damn business,” I said sweetly into the phone.
And then he was there, in my space, so close, I could smell the pine and anger rolling off him. He was power, magic, sex, raw, brute force. A thunderstorm embodied.
I gave him a disinterested look.
The corner of his lip quirked up.
“How about I say please?” he said into his phone. Even though there was less than six inches separating us.
“Hound business is Hound business,” I replied.
“Don’t make me drag it out of Davy.”
“Fuck you,” Davy laughed. “I’m not your girlfriend.”
Zay put his phone down. Thumbed it off. “Who are you hunting girlfriend?” he asked.
I saw no reason to keep it a secret. Well, besides the fact that he could Close me or Davy with the flick of his fingers. “Dane. For shooting me.”
He searched my eyes. Must have caught the hint that I didn’t give a damn what he thought about that.
“Shame and I will go with you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“More feet on the ground. That’s what you said, right?” He turned toward Davy. “How are we doing this?”
“Talk to the boss.”
He turned back to me. “Well, boss?”
“Sigh spells. Light. We’re just looking for his signature. If he’s found, I’m to be contacted. No engaging.”
“And after you are contacted?”
Oh, I did not want to tell him that I had planned to follow the rules and call him and Victor. “I’ll take care of it.”
Anger flashed through is eyes, brown gone much, much too gold.
“We got it covered, Jones,” I said airily. “Don’t really need more feet on the ground.”
He reached out, grabbed my arm. Davy pushed off from the car he’d been leaning on.
Zay pulled me in and kissed me.
Oh. My. Sweet. Heavens. A rush of heat enveloped me, and I tasted his anger – and his amusement. He was hot, turned on. He liked it when I took charge.
Before I could do more than register his need, before I could exhale the pressure and heat his touch, his kiss, planted in me, he pulled back.
“So where do you want me?” he asked.
Memories of his naked body, lowering over the top of me, flashed through my mind.
No. No way. I would not be distracted by him.
“Fine. If I can’t get rid of you, then take the south-west side of town. Sight. Mile radius. Don’t trip the grid. Think you can handle that?”
“Well, I’m not Hound,” he said, “but I’ll see what I can do.”
“If you find him- If you find anything, call me.”
He gave me a grin. “I don’t think you’re paying me to call you.”
“If you’re on this hunt, you’re on the payroll.”
“Yeah? How much”
“I’ll buy you a beer.”
He shook his head. I started walking towards Davy’s car.
“She buying you a beer?” he asked Davy as we passed by.
“Yup. About a thousand of them.”
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Sunday Snippets #35
Sneak Peek from Promises in the Dark by Stephanie Tyler
Release Date: November 23, 2010
**NOTE: this except comes from an uncorrected galley copy of the book**
“My plan was to grab you, get you to Freetown and onto a ferry,” he said through gritted teeth. “My plan involved saving you. It didn’t involve having the person in danger hit me with a metal frying pan—then tell me to stay the hell out of her life and her business.”
She didn’t bother to look or act contrite. “I never asked you to come,” she said again—her refrain. Her goddamned mantra.
That was it. He closed in on her with three steps. All he could freakin’ think to do was kiss her, and so that’s exactly what he damned well did, hard and fast, without giving a shit what she wanted right now.
But she did want—he could tell by the way she molded against him. She tasted soft and sweet and spicy all at once, like cool rain and the kind of hot summer sun that let you know all was right with the world, and his body enveloped hers, the way he’d wanted to from the moment he’d seen her on the porch.
When he pulled back, she kept her eyes screwed tightly closed as if she could make it all—including him— disappear.
He murmured in her ear, “Open your eyes, Liv. I want you to know my name. To know me—to watch me when you come and know that I’m the one doing it to you.”
GIVEAWAY: Stephanie has GENEROUSLY donated one (1) copy of each of the first two Shadow Force Series books - Lie With Me and Promises in the Dark for a giveaway here on my blog. If you would like to enter for a chance to win either of the books, please leave a comment with your email address at the end of this post or the REVIEW. Contest is open internationally!! Contest is open from now until November 23, 2010 at 9:00 PM EST. Winners will be selected using random.org and announced on my blog on November 24, 2010. First name drawn will get choice of book. Second winner will receive the other book.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday Snippets #32
From Play of Passion by Nalini SinghRelease date: November 2, 2010
Andrew heard Indigo moan, felt her body soften a delicious fraction before the lieutenant got herself under control. Pushing off his shoulders, she rolled away to crouch beside him on the forest floor, her namesake eyes bright with the wolf’s night-glow gaze. “I’ll forgive you for slobbering over me that one time. But do it again and I’ll put you on your ass.”
“I’m already there.” He sat up. “And I seem to recall you slobbering back.” Her tongue had been a sleek, fast dart in his mouth before that damn self-discipline of hers had kicked in. “Want to do it some more?”
She pushed back her hair. “I give up. Stay here. Die of blood loss. I’m going to go slip into a nice warm bath and eat the slice of New York cheesecake I bribed Lucy to sneak up to me past the ravaging hordes.”
“You have cheesecake?” He prowled over to crouch by her. It was hard, so fucking hard, to pretend this was only a game, to play with her, when all he wanted to do was bury his face in her neck and just ... be.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sunday Snippets #31
Sneak Peek from Lie With Me by Stephanie Tyler
Release Date: October 26, 2010
**NOTE: this except comes from an uncorrected galley copy of the book**
The monitor flickered in warning and she shut the laptop down and closed the lid. Suddenly, with the light gone, the storm turned from her ally to her enemy, as every sound became someone scratching at the door to get in.
She almost called for Cam, then heard the running water and realized he was showering.
Instead, she reached for her BlackBerry and noted that she had a few bars of service. Spotty, but enough, and so she quickly dialed her father’s number, and got his voice mail message. Again. “Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that Cameron Moore is here—he told me you sent him. Can you please call me, though. I need to speak to—”
Dead air. Well, at least hopefully the message had gotten through.
Cameron Moore is here. And he seems to get me.
Lighting a lantern, she walked along the hallway in the suddenly too dark townhouse until she reached the bathroom.
He’d left the door open. With his own lantern on the countertop, she could look at the half-steamed mirror and see him through the clear-glass shower door.
She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Soap slid between his shoulder blades, over the ridge of his lower back, coursing down thighs, which were solid ridges of muscles, as were his calves, and his feet . . . yes, they were large.
Stupid wives’ tale, she told herself, even as he turned around—and no, this was definitely not an old wives’ tale. It was only then she realized he could see her watching him if he turned his face toward the mirror. And still she didn’t move, running her gaze up his body toward his face when he turned the water off.
She moved to leave the doorway and her ankle caught on the doorjamb and twisted—she cried out and went down hard.
Cam was by her side in seconds, still dripping wet, towel around his waist. “You okay?”
He’d shaved his face clean, making his blue eyes stand out in stark relief, his chiseled cheekbones striking. His hair was wet, tied back, and he was seriously, devastatingly handsome.
Her face flushed hot. If he knew she’d been spying, he didn’t say . . . but something about the look in his eyes told her he guessed.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, and then, in the next breath, she corrected herself. “No, I’m not fine. I haven’t been fine for a long time.”
He remained on his knees, next to her, listening.
“But here with you, I feel like I can be fine. I want to be fine.” She reached up tentatively, slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling the slick, damp skin that was hot under her fingers.
“Sky . . .” His tone held a warning, letting her know she was about to push things too far with her soft touch, but she couldn’t stop now. Wanted to play with fire.
She trailed her hands down his chest, stopping midway, tracing the cuts on his abs with a finger.
When she looked up at him, he nearly lost it. He’d been hard from the second he’d caught her looking at him, but now, watching her studying his body . . . wanting him, his blood surged.
“We can’t do this,” he heard himself say—the voice of reason.
“I want you, Cam. Please, don’t turn me down.”
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday Snippets #28 - The Iron Duke Week
This week's Sunday Snippets is a special Sneak Peek for THE IRON DUKE WEEK. This snippet was selected by author Meljean Brook just for you! Enjoy!
Mina stepped into the lift, standing to the side to make room for Trahaearn and Newberry. The Iron Duke boarded and closed the cage behind him. Newberry abruptly stopped, staring at them through the grating.
Trahaearn locked the gate. “It will be too crowded and over its weight capacity, constable. I’ll send it back down for you.”
Mina looked at him in disbelief. Though it’d be a tight fit, the lift could accommodate her assistant. Then the duke glanced down at her, wearing that cold detachment she’d begun to hate, and Mina understood.
She’d rejected his offer outside and put an end to the matter. But the Iron Duke wasn’t done.
Anger balled tight and high in her throat. Swallowing it down, she looked through the grating at Newberry. “We’ll meet you on the third level, constable. Anne, will you show Constable Newberry to the stairs?”
As soon as they turned to go, Trahaearn started the lift. Metal scraped as he threw the lever forward. Mina stared at the gate’s flat steel panel, almost blind with rage.
So this is how it would be? When pirates took over a ship, they usually gave the crew a choice between keeping their positions under a new captain, abandonment, or death. What choice would he give to her? She accepted his offer, or he ruined her family? Or would he simply rape her here?
The noise of the fans assaulted her ears, then was muffled as they rose past the second level floor. Unlike the smithy below, this level had been partitioned. An empty corridor led from the lift to the rooms where the Blacksmith grafted his mechanical flesh to living tissue, and where those undergoing the excruciating process waited while the flesh grew. Mina’s mother had waited in one of these rooms, but had forbidden Mina and her brothers from accompanying her. Instead, her father had held her hand through each step, carried her home each night—and every morning, he’d had to convince her mother to return to the Blacksmith’s and finish it. By the end of the week, he’d been as pale and haggard as her mother.
Remembering that, Mina’s anger built into resolution. What could Trahaearn do to her family that the Horde hadn’t already done? Nothing. And her family had always fought back, always survived. The only danger he posed was to Mina’s person and her career—but no matter the damage he caused, she would survive that, too.
She looked up. The roof of the lift had almost reached the next floor. The duke still hadn’t spoken. Her tension began to loosen its grip. Had she mistaken his intentions, then? Perhaps he just hadn’t wanted to be crowded.
Metal scraped, and the lift jolted to a halt. Mina stumbled forward before catching her balance—and realized that he’d timed it perfectly. They’d stopped halfway between the floors. The lift’s roof concealed them from above, and if anyone entered the corridor below, the gate blocked the view of the lift’s interior.
Damn him. Damn him.
Mina wouldn’t make it out of the Narrow alive if she shot him, but he couldn’t know she wouldn’t be crazy enough to do it. She pushed back the sides of her overcoat to expose her weapons.
He remained silent, staring at her from the opposite side of the lift, his dark gaze searching her face. Was he waiting for her to protest, or just trying to intimidate her?
She was afraid. Not of him, or what he could do to her body. Her bugs could heal bruises and tears, inside and out. But by forcing her, by taking her choice, he’d rip away everything that he’d given when he’d destroyed the Horde’s broadcasting tower.
Never would Mina allow that. And on second thought, maybe she was crazy enough. Her hands slid from her hips to her holstered weapons. His gaze fell and lingered on her weapons—or her thighs. She repressed the urge to let her overcoat fall closed. He looked up again, meeting her eyes. Mina arched a brow.
His slow smile didn’t soften his hawkish features. “You’ll come to my bed. And you won’t think it a waste of time.”
“You’re wasting it now. Start the lift.”
“A blacksmith earns more than an inspector, yet you didn’t say that to the girl. You placed the ability to go anywhere ahead of money.” As he spoke, his detachment turned to speculation, but his gaze never wavered from her face. “I can offer you enough that you’d be able to go anywhere you’d like, too.”
Anger and unease mixed with surprise. He’d listened to her conversation with Anne? She’d have to be careful never to reveal anything of herself in his vicinity again, not if he’d use it against her.
“I’m happy where I am,” she said. “Except I’d rather be ascending.”
His short laugh made her stomach drop, her fingers tighten on her weapons. He crossed the lift in two strides, each step rattling the cage around them. Mina held her ground. He stopped with only a few inches between them—and blast his monstrous height, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder.
What did he mean to prove by stopping so close? Did he intend for Mina to tilt her head back, making it appear as if she lifted herself to his kiss? Resolutely, she stared ahead at the small brass buckles that fastened his waistcoat—and suddenly realized that her refusal to look up made her seem afraid.
No matter what her response was, she couldn’t win.
She stiffened as his palm cupped her nape. Hard fingers tilted her chin up; he lowered his head. Mina jerked her face to the side. She felt his rough laughter against her neck, the gentle touch of his lips to her throat. His hand tightened in her hair, holding her still as he inhaled, as if drawing in her scent.
Tremors started low in her belly. Fear, she recognized. Anger, she welcomed. But not the burn beneath her skin, so similar to when he’d taken her glove.
He lifted his head, but didn’t release her. His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “You will accept me. And now I will know you, even if you come to me in the dark.”
Know her? Arrogant, insufferable knacker. He knew nothing about her.
And she didn’t need her weapons to get him away from her. Not when he was so stupid as to come this close.
Her hand shot to the front of his breeches, making claws of her fingers and trapping his genitals in a tight grip. He froze. As if testing, she hefted the firm weight she found. Heavy, but so very delicate.
She bared her teeth. “And even in the dark, now I’ll know that I’m ripping off the right cods.”
His eyes narrowed, and the hot interest she saw in his gaze sent shivers skittering down her spine. That wasn’t just business now. She tightened her grip.
“Back away from me, Your Grace.”
GIVEAWAY:
Don't forget about the giveaway... One copy of The Iron Duke to a lucky commenter. While I love comments and encourage everyone to leave one, only people with a US mailing address will be entered in the contest. If you are not eligible for the contest, please just note that. Thanks! Full contest rules are HERE.
Don't forget about the giveaway... One copy of The Iron Duke to a lucky commenter. While I love comments and encourage everyone to leave one, only people with a US mailing address will be entered in the contest. If you are not eligible for the contest, please just note that. Thanks! Full contest rules are HERE.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Cover Love
I've never done a Cover Love post before, but have always enjoyed it on other blogs. It's a great way to see the amazing covers of upcoming books that I want to read. So today I just had to share with you a newly unveiled cover of an upcoming novella...
This is Leopard's Key by Teresa D'Amario. This cover is SMOKIN' HOT!! To read more about Teresa and her upcoming story, please visit her site HERE.
This is Leopard's Key by Teresa D'Amario. This cover is SMOKIN' HOT!! To read more about Teresa and her upcoming story, please visit her site HERE.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Sunday Snippets #24
From Cruel Enchantment by Anya Bast
Book Release Date: September 7, 2010... so this story is also a
It had been too long. She barely remembered what it was to be fae--what she was under the layers of illusion she’d donned. It was good to be here. She didn’t regret a bit not ordering a car to come for her at the gates, even though the walk would not be doing her leg muscles any favors tomorrow morning.
She blinked, glimpsing something down the road that didn’t fit with her natural surroundings. Someone striding through the dappled sunlight and pollen-laden air. A man. A large, muscular man walking with purpose toward her. He carried something in his hand, but she couldn’t quite make it out.
Her pace slowing, she watched him approach, seeing something intangibly familiar in the way he moved and the broad set of his shoulders. Who was this man? What was he doing way out here? His posture and the way he strode toward her seemed vaguely threatening. Suddenly she wished for a weapon. She usually carried one--old habits died hard--but she hadn’t brought any into Piefferburg with her.
He strode on heavy boots and wore black pants and a white poet’s shirt that would’ve made any other man but him look feminine. His long, dusky blond hair was pulled partway back at his nape, free tendrils moving around a face so heartbreakingly beautiful in a savage, brutal way it made her want to cry. Strong, clefted chin; full lips; dark brown eyes. His build peeked out at the collar of the poet’s shirt--strong and muscled from hard work--wide shoulders, narrow hips, the fabric of his pants clinging to the thighs of an athlete.
Or of a blacksmith.
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