Cupid's Choice

Hello, everyone. Welcome to another fabulous blog-hop and Happy Valentine's Day! As usual, if you get lost and need to hop back on the blog-bus, just go to www.justromance.me and pick it up again. 

I've been buried in packing boxes these past few weeks thanks to the-move-that-will-not-end, so instead of writing a special short story for this hop, I thought I'd go with a Valentine's excerpt from Sound of a Voice That is Still, the book I'm giving away as part of this weekend's very cool prize package. Then I got a look at this very cool and very sexy banner. It reminded me a lot of the picture I used for the back of one of my Romance Trading Cards. 

See what I mean? Okay, I know he doesn't have wings here, but he's an angel just the same. Also, in both pics he looks like he can use a kiss. And who doesn't love a "first kiss" scene? So that decided me.  Here's a blurb and excerpt from Edge of Heaven...

Welcome to the afterlife, where men are men and the angels are fallen.

It was a reckless act of passion that ended Edge’s life and left him in Limbo -- literally. Now, he’s stuck here. While most of the other angels-in-training move quickly up the celestial ladder, Edge knows it can never be that simple for him. He’s dealing with issues that are a lot more complicated than a simple lack of closure.

While Edge doesn’t know for sure what it will take to get him into Heaven, there is one thing he’s certain won’t help -- his latest assignment guiding angel-baby Matteo Matinucci while the newbie find his wings.

But twenty-something Mattie -- sexy, beautiful, recently departed, and openly gay -- could turn out to be the answer to all of Edge’s prayers, as well as the fulfillment of all his fantasies, even the hot, sweaty, secret ones he’s never confided to anyone. And by helping to send Mattie to Heaven, Edge just might end up saving both their souls.

Excerpt:

There’s a wicked look in his eyes as he twists round to face me. It’s exactly the kind of look that makes you remember the devil’s an angel too. “Ridiculous or not, there’s something that’s been driving me nuts ever since we met.” 

Before I can come up with a response—before I even have a clue what he’s planning—damned if he doesn’t kiss me. His hand latches on to my shoulder, keeping me still when I would have drawn back. He leans in, slanting his head at the last minute, angling in just right until our lips and noses are so perfectly aligned it’s as though we’ve been doing this all our lives.

Surprise has short-circuited my reasoning. I know this to be true because before I’m even aware of it, I’m kissing him back. It’s shock; that’s all. A reflex. And maybe a little curiosity. I’ve been wondering for so long what something like this would be like. I’ve been wanting it for so long. Craving it, really. And his lips—so warm and gentle at first, so insistent an instant later—how can I resist his lips or the scratchy stubble that surrounds them, so different from anything I’ve known before? But it’s purely shock. Or mostly shock…partially…

Okay, look, the shock’s there, all right? It’s definitely somewhere in the mix; that’s all I’m gonna say.

My body seems to have switched to automatic pilot. Without any encouragement from my brain, my lips part for his tongue. My eyes are closed tight in bliss and denial. The taste and the smell and the feel of him—it’s enough to overload my senses, so sweet, so tangy and male. So good. So right.

So…fucking perfect, actually. And who could ever have predicted that would be the case?

I suck on his tongue, pulling it deeper into my mouth. I’m startled by how much I want that, how much I crave the feel of that agile muscle filling my mouth, taking possession of every inch. My hands grope blindly, searching for some way to anchor us together, clutching at his shoulder, his waist, anywhere my fingers can find a purchase.

Matteo sighs against my lips. He shifts a little—is he moving away? Is he breaking this off? I can’t be certain, but I’m taking no chances. I tug him closer, canting my head to the side to tempt him with greater access. I shudder in pleasure at the way our bodies fit together. I can’t let this end. I won’t let it end. Not yet.

Why should I, anyway? It’s just a kiss, after all. Innocent. Harmless. Nothing to get too excited about. Just a kiss and yet…my cock swells and throbs, demanding more. Demanding pressure and friction. Movement. Heat. I’m giving serious thought to the idea of tumbling backward into the sand, pulling him down with me, on top of me. My head spins with the thought of how it will feel to be pinned to the ground, helpless beneath his weight. I want that. Oh, how I want that.

I’m breathless and fevered, and suddenly, in the midst of it all, my conscience makes a belated and completely unwelcome appearance.

Oh, holy crap. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? This is a mistake. Stop it.

Right. A mistake. I knew that.

I start to pull away, only to find that—somehow—Matteo’s hand is cupping the back of my neck. How it got there, when it got there, I have no idea. His fingers are tangled up in my hair; they tense as I try to move, tightening their grip. Then his other hand joins the party, caressing my neck, my shoulder. Obviously, he intends to gentle me into staying right where I am.

You might think knowing what he’s up to would be enough to cool my blood, to clear my head, to stop my body from responding just like he wants it to, but it’s not. Not even close. I exhale on a shudder, let my tongue curl with his, and I’m lost again. This is too good, too right, too fucking sexy. I’m not going anywhere.

And you know what? I’m really kind of okay with that.

 

Join me on February 27 at 11 p.m. EST on Other Worlds of Romance with Linda Mooney on BlogTalkRadio

I'll be talking about Old Sins, Long Shadows (Children of Night, book 2). Hope to see you there!

Living forever is hard. Loving forever? Damn near impossible. 


1856, New York City. Moments after Conrad Quintano drives his life-mate away, heartache and guilt descend around his heart like a pall. Convinced that Damian’s hatred is as permanent as the scars Conrad has inflicted on him, Conrad steels himself for an eternity of emotional torture.

Present day, San Francisco. For the sake of vampire twins Marc and Julie Fischer, Conrad and Damian present a united parental front. In reality, their truce is a sham. Conrad, weakened by his recent ordeal, struggles against the urge to bring his mate back to his bed. And Damian misinterprets Conrad’s explosive temper as proof their relationship is irreparably broken.

When an old enemy’s quest to create a dangerous new breed of vampire threatens the twins’ lives—and the precarious state of vampire peace—it’s imperative the estranged lovers put the past behind them. Or the shadows of the past will tear apart everything they hold dear.

Warning: This book may not be suitable for readers with an aversion to emotionally damaged vampire heroes. Caution is advised if you have experienced prior sensitivity to any of the following: costume parties, fencing lessons, interspecies, inter-generational or intra-gender dating, occasional mild violence, and/or recreational blood-drinking.