Friday, January 30, 2015


It's the official release day for WHISPER IN MY EAR, my Fantasy Romance.  I thought I'd post an excerpt.


Injured as a child, mermaid Katrina Lawson has adapted to living on land among humans. Denied the comfort of her water world, she’s stripped of her ability to transform and to hear. But the promise of a cochlear implant offers her a ray of hope. 

Drew Saunders is a creature no woman can resist: mystical, magical and musical. With a hum he can seduce women and make them slaves. When he meets Katrina he’s enthralled. But being unable to hear, she’s impervious to his charms. So he must work to build a relationship with her the human way.

Katrina’s doctor suspects there is more to her than scans and x-rays can detect. His obsessive fascination with her, places her and all aquatic species at risk, forcing her to make a horrible choice. Can she sacrifice the only true love she’ll ever know for the good of her species?


Katrina Larson rolled the glass of rum and coke between her palms. What was she doing here? Since she was deaf, she felt as out of place as a cowboy at a fashion show. When her girlfriends leaped to their feet as soon as the singer’s attention fell on them, she’d fought the urge to sink under the table.
Now she studied the man on stage. He was tall, at least six foot three, dark, muscular, and very masculine. He projected a raw sexuality every woman in the room responded to, including her. All her friends had talked about for weeks was Drew Saunders. They raved about his voice. But she would never understand what special quality they heard in it. Even with the cochlear implant she was considering, her hearing would be…different.

When he began to play, the vibration from his keyboard feathered against her skin and beat beneath her feet, but she couldn’t hear the words he sang. Nor was she close enough to read his lips. When the other women lounged back into their seats, she took her cue from them and relaxed.

A low-level hum penetrated the silence she lived in, startling her and jerking her forward in her seat. She searched the room, eager, her heart pounding. It had been nearly six years since she’d heard any sound. She’d missed it, missed the ebb and flow of the pitch inside her head. Where was it coming from now?

Her eyes settled on the man on stage. She couldn’t hear a word of what he was singing, but beneath the surface tone there was a sensual vibration low enough to penetrate her deafness.

What was he? If he were a member of her Shoal, she’d recognize it. Though she wasn’t of pure blood, she could still recognize her own. And being on land, he’d be as deaf as she.

Because of the pitch he was able to project, he had to be something aquatic, but not of her species. The resonance was too different.

Fascinated and hungry for sound of any kind, she strained to hear each note he projected. Sitting next to her, her best friend, Cheryl, grasped her wrist and leaned close enough for her to read her lips in the light of the candle on their table. “I just had an orgasm. I swear to God. All he has to do is sing and you just go. I wish you could hear this, Katrina.”

Shock held her prisoner for several moments. He was seducing the audience with his voice. She spied a man two tables over from her, and he seemed more interested in checking out the breasts of the woman next to him than the man singing.

So only the women in the audience were affected. He had seduced her too, but the effect was blunted because of her hearing issues. Her stomach cramped. What he was doing was…wrong.

What could she do? She studied each of the women she’d come with, her coworkers. Cheryl, Jacqueline, and Hallee all seemed to be mesmerized. If she tried to explain, none of them would believe her. But she couldn’t just sit here and watch him manipulate her friends. She had to leave and figure out what to do.

A movement from the side of the stage caught her attention. Drew Saunders stood and played the last few bars of the song. Then he motioned to someone offstage, and three men walked out.
Katrina rose and tapped Cheryl on the shoulder. Used to speaking instead of signing with her, she said, “I have to go.”

“You haven’t even finished your drink,” Cheryl protested.

Katrina slid the rum and coke over to her. “I haven’t touched it. You can have it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She collected her bag, and, glancing toward the stage one last time, wove her way through the crowd toward the door.

Drew motioned his band members on stage. “Ladies and gentlemen. On drums is Rand Michaels.”

As soon as he reached him, Rand said, “What the fuck’s going on, Drew? You going solo now?”
The drummer’s anger vibrated off him like static. It underscored his unshaven, tattooed, rocker look. His attempts to live up to his own hype were getting old, though. Drew gave him a long look. “The natives were restless. Sam was worried they might damage the club.”

Rand scanned the audience. “They look okay now.” A heavy undertone of accusation sharpened his voice.

Drew controlled his expression, and his anger, with an effort. There was a time and a place for everything. Who knows what an act of violence on stage could set off in this audience? “Take your bow, Rand, and get ready for the show.” Drew threw out a hand toward the other two band members. “On base, Tony Cosimini. On guitar is Simon Fletcher.”

While the men were getting settled, Drew glanced toward the table of women he’d been watching. The blonde was halfway across the room, winding her way toward the door. Her hair swung from side to side, brushing the small of her arrow-straight back, her gait purposeful. For a moment, he was distracted by the lush curve of her jeans-encased hips, and the graceful way they swayed with every step she took. Where was she going?

His stomach tightened. His heart hammered.

She was leaving!

Why wasn’t she affected by his singing like the others? He had to find out. He had to stop her. He dodged the mike stand and leapt off the stage. Women surged to their feet and hands reached for him. Drew tugged free of one woman’s grasp, then another.

A brunette with big hair and a sultry expression ran a hand down the front of his jeans and gave his gear a painful squeeze. Jesus! Grasping her wrist, he pushed her into her seat and shoved past the next two who stood in his path.

His hand closed around the blonde’s shoulder and he swung her around. “Why are you leaving?”
Large blue-green eyes, the color of the sea, focused on his face, then widened in surprise. Her hair, a caramel color streaked with every shade of blonde from platinum to honey, tumbled forward to frame her high cheekbones. Her bow-shaped mouth parted in shock as she shrank from him.
He grasped her arm. “Don’t go.”

A high-pitched sound, piercing and sharp struck him like a blow. Pain lanced through the bones of his face, his teeth. He bent at the waist and covered his ears.

The frosted glass panes in the door shattered, throwing diamond-shaped pieces through the air and across the polished black and white tile floor. He threw up an arm to protect his face and twisted away.

Bedlam reigned as people sitting close by surged to their feet and ran toward the stage.

The sound ceased, cut off as suddenly as it had erupted. He straightened, panting. The aftereffects of the noise had left him dizzy. Even with his hearing blunted from the trauma, he heard the bottles of liquor behind the bar continue to tinkle like wind chimes, as though the glass retained a lingering resonance.

He turned to the door. What the hell was that? Was she okay?

An evening breeze wafted through the empty metal doorframe, carrying with it the smell of car exhaust.

The blonde was gone.


Hope you enjoyed the excerpts.
Read on,
Teresa Reasor 

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