Yep, In the Dark, the first book in my Children of Night series, is now available in print as well as digital format. The book is so yummy looking with its chocolate brown cover, that it's inspiring me to run a little contest. email me (pgforte@pgforte.com) and tell me the name of the iconic singer-songwriter whose music inspired Suzanne's move to San Francisco (hint: the answer can be found in the prologue) and I'll enter you to win some fabulous Vosges chocolate or a LUSH cosmetic bath bomb. Supply the specific song title (no, that's not spelled out in the prologue, but it's a real easy guess!) and you could also win one of these cool magnets:
I have enough for several winners and I'm running the contest between now and Halloween...hey, what can I say? I'm making this up as I go along!
Click HERE (or on the cover at the top of the page) for more information on this title and to read the prologue.
And now, here's an extra excerpt...
“Isn’t this place fantastic?” Suzanne sighed as they strolled in the shadows of towering redwoods, breathing in all the cool, night scents. The fog was settling in, and between that and the trees, it should have been too dark to see. It wasn’t. Flickering torches, set along the winding paths that cut through the property took care of that. Given the costume she was wearing and the autumn breeze, she should have been shivering with cold. She wasn’t. The man walking beside her, with his electric voice and simmering smile, took care of that. “I don’t believe any of the rumors about it being haunted though, do you? I think it’s more like…well, like being in a fairy tale, or something.”
The sound of Conrad’s soft laughter made her cringe. He smiled indulgently. “A very dark fairy tale, perhaps, yes? Populated with monsters and demons and things too terrible to mention.”
Suzanne bit her lip. Fairy tales. What must he think of her, hearing her talk about such silly things? He was older—how much older, she couldn’t say, but definitely over thirty—and more worldly and cultured and altogether more fascinating than anyone she’d ever met before. And here she was, when she should be trying to act as sophisticated as possible, saying things only a baby would think to say. “I just meant…well, it’s just such a…such a gas to be here, don’t you think so too? I wonder who owns it.”
He slanted a curious look her way. “Don’t you know? Who brought you here, anyway?”
“No one, really. I was with some friends the other day and I guess they’d overheard some other people talking about it. They said they throw parties like this almost every weekend and that it was a real happening scene. So I thought I’d come and see for myself.”
“A happening scene. I see.” They walked a few more steps before Conrad asked, almost hesitantly, “So…is that…is that a good thing then?”
“A happening scene. I see.” They walked a few more steps before Conrad asked, almost hesitantly, “So…is that…is that a good thing then?”
“Conrad! Of course it is!” Laughter bubbled up before she even considered that, perhaps, he was making fun of her, but the look in his eyes told her he wasn’t. “Look around you,” she said, slipping her arm free of his so she could twirl in place, her arms spread wide. “It’s all so…dreamy.” However older and worldly he might be, there were still things he didn’t know. She liked that. She liked the rush of power she got from the thought there were things she could teach him, things she could show him and tell him about—new things, things he might never even think of on his own. The realization left her so jubilant she didn’t even protest when he took hold of her hand and pulled her into his arms.
His kiss was nothing like she’d expected. It was earthy and dark, with just a hint of buried sweetness and a taste that was almost familiar. Tempting, yet somehow forbidden, just like the baker’s chocolate she’d once watched her foster mother use to make a cake.
The tantalizing scent as it melted in the top of the double boiler had made Suzanne salivate. No matter how much she’d begged for a piece, she wasn’t allowed so much as a crumb. So, that night, she’d crept down to the kitchen and stolen a square. It, too, was nothing like she’d expected. Bitter, intense, but exciting, all the same. Like her first sip of coffee. Or her first taste of love.
The press of Conrad’s mouth on hers was hypnotic. She couldn’t break the spell his kiss laid on her even if she’d wanted to. No more than she could keep from moaning in protest when he pulled away. His hand slid across her bare back, took hold of her hair and tugged. She let her head fall back as his open mouth ghosted, warm and wet, over her neck, as though he was searching for just the right spot. Her heart seemed to stop. The night grew still. Even the breeze seemed to settle as she waited, breathless for…something.
It never came.
Instead, Conrad’s mouth reversed course, traveling back up her neck to her ear where he whispered, “So much sweetness. It would be a shame to rush what should be savored. You’ll spend the night with me.”
