Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Deep Within The Stone Preorder, Excerpt, and Cover Reveal

This summer has been a very busy one. I feel like I've been on the road since March.  I have one more trip to make before things settle down and I'll be able to hideout in my office and live my next SEAL Book. I mean write.  

 I'm thrilled to announce I've finished the second book of my Superstition Series.  And I have a cover to share.   I think it's gorgeous and my guy is just beautiful.  
This book is my take on a Beauty and a Beast love story.  And I think it's both sweet, tormenting, and passionate. I found my Hero, Finn, both tortured and strong. I think my cover depicts that.   


Release day will be Halloween. October 31st, 2017.  And the book is available for preorder at $2.99. at Amazon: http://amzn.to/2xY7clQ   

Here's the blurb and an unedited excerpt to wet your appetite. 
The Blurb: 

THE BEAUTY…

Like Michelangelo, gifted sculptor Genevieve Warren believes her purpose is to set free the beings she can sense trapped inside the stone she carves. But she’s never had a sculpture speak to her like the rare 14th century gargoyle left out in the elements to crumble in a castle garden. Because of Scottish antiquity law, she can’t buy him, but she leases him and has him shipped home. However, she’s left to wonder why his owners are so eager to get rid of part of their history.

THE BEAST…

Finlay MacLeod has spent centuries as a monster. Stone by day and beast at night, he craves an escape from the endless loneliness of his existence. When Genevieve cares for the stone sculpture as though he’s real, he hopes he’s found someone who will care for the monster imprisoned inside it, too… and help him end his suffering. But first he must reveal to her he’s alive.

THE CURSE…

Genevieve becomes aware there are mystical things afoot when she’s told dark magic surrounds the sculpture she’s imported. The reality of what she’s welcomed into her life is more fantastic and compelling than anything she could have imagined.

But there’s more than one kind of monster prowling the hills and valleys of Superstition. One has decided that only Genevieve can feed his many hungers.  He’s watching, waiting, and moving closer every moment.

My editor has the entire 86,672 word book in her hands and is working hard. But I'm going to post an excerpt she hasn't edited yet. 
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A well-dressed man strode down the entrance foyer and paused to greet her and introduced himself as Mr. Jonathan Taylor. His face was narrow and his warm brown eyes had a hint of gold. His blond hair, a few inches too long to be considered traditionally immaculate, hung over his shirt collar and had her studying him with interest.
“I’m Genevieve Warren.” She offered her hand. “I’m here to inquire about the gargoyle from the Dunvegan Castle grounds.”
“Yes. My secretary notified me you’d be coming. I’ll get a bag for your umbrella and we’ll go down the hall. The statue is so heavy we wanted to keep it on the ground floor. We haven’t moved it to a room yet. But I’ve had it uncrated in the storage room at the back of the building. I hope you won’t mind viewing it there.”
“No, not at all.” She studied the golden glow of the floor and the high ceilings while she waited for him to return. She slipped the umbrella into the plastic bag he handed her and walked along side him down a wide hallway.  
The storage area was well lit and had hand crafted shelves, some with slots where paintings could rest on their edge until they were hung. Reinforced shelving for pottery, ceramics, and other three dimensional artworks stretched against all four walls. Close to the large shipping bay doors was the gargoyle. She recognized him from the back. A tail curved around his muscular thigh, while his wings stretched up and back partially folded together.
 She had first seen the statue in the garden at Dunvegan Castle and asked about it. Years of exposure to the elements and nature had discolored and streaked the stone leaving it mottled. The pattern of weathering looked like melted candle wax, but it didn’t detract from the work.
Genevieve circled to face the piece and was struck once again by the raw emotion depicted in the creatures face, a combination of torment and rage. He was ugly, yet she saw a dash of humanity in his features. It was that element that drew her. His expression had stuck in her thoughts long after she’d left the castle and moved on to her bed and breakfast there on the Isle of Skye.
In medieval architecture of the Gothic period Gargoyles were used mostly as down spouts on the roofs to project water away from the buildings during rainstorms. To find a full sculpture of this kind was very rare. The owners had to want a fortune for it.
But then again maybe not. Instead of being a curiosity and drawing the attention of the visitors on the castle grounds, she’d been told it had often frightened them because of the suffering depicted in his expression. He was life sized, and that in itself made him intimidating.  Had he not been kneeling on one knee, he’d be at least six feet tall.
Another oddity was the sculpture had impressive realistic sexual organs; something unheard of since gargoyles had always been depicted as sexually neutral though most gave the impression of being male. To find such nudity in a sculpture of that period was surprising. During the medieval era artists and society as a whole were focused on dissuading the populace from sin. Nudity of any kind in paintings and sculptures had been discouraged adamantly and was almost non-existent.  In fact, she was surprised the sculpture hadn’t been defaced.
“He of course needs to be cleaned, what with the pigeons having roosted on him and the natural weathering of the stone. The fact that he hasn’t been tended will work in your favor and the price will be adjusted.”
“I’m a sculptor. I know how to clean stone,” she murmured taking in the shape of the gargoyle’s ears. They lay against his head and were pointed at the top which made him look a little like a Vulcan.”
“A professional sculptor?” Jonathan Taylor asked.
“Yes. I work in stone and wood.”
“Genevieve Warren.” His brows rose. “I read an article in a magazine just recently about your work.”
“You may have. It’s beginning to come along.”
He smiled. “And they say the Scottish are masters of the understatement.” His accent had grown a little thicker.
“I am part Scot and part French. My father’s family came from La Varenne, my mother’s family was from the Inverness area. That may be why I am always at odds with myself. May I touch him?”
“Certainly.” He motioned with a long expressive hand.
She stepped forward and knelt to cup the gargoyle’s snarling face in her hands. From her position, she gazed directly into his eyes. She read suffering in the narrowing of his lids, but also defiance and more than a glint of rage. A strange tumbling sensation attacked the pit of her stomach. His bunched jaw muscles felt almost real. For several moments she was content to caress the shape of his chin. The artisan who sculpted this was a master.
She braced a hand against the muscular slope of his shoulder to rise. Her eyes followed the line of his wing caught in the moment when it had just started to flex.
“What do you think about him?”
“I think he’s so ugly he’s beautiful.”
Taylor laughed.
The pelt of thick wavy hair following the contours of the gargoyle’s head was strange as well. He was a chimera, part human, and part beast. She rested her hand upon his crown, tempted by the detail to smooth the disheveled strands. She stepped away to circle him again and study his wings. Bony fingers fanned from his shoulder blades and veins branched from the joint to trail through the thin membrane very similar to a bat’s. The detail was exquisite and would show up much better once he was cleaned.
To his credit, Taylor stood by silently and didn’t attempt to pressure her for a sale. “How much are they hoping to get for him?”
“Twenty thousand pounds. But there is a hitch”
She raised her brows. She wasn’t surprised.
“Historic Scotland will not allow any sculpture of the period to be sold outright, and transported to another country, but it can be put on permanent loan. So you would not be able to purchase him straight out, but pay for the right to have him relocated indefinitely.”
 So she would be paying twenty-five thousand US dollars to house and care for him but could not claim ownership because she lived in another country. Twenty thousand dollars she could use for materials to do more sculptures. Stone didn’t come cheap. But she could do some smaller things or work in wood to make up for the difference. Her work was moving well.
She studied the gargoyle a few more moments. “The transport to get him home will cost me dearly,” she murmured. Possibly as much as five thousand. And then the transport from the ship to her studio another two or three. She was probably looking at close to thirty thousand, maybe more.
She’d gone insane. She was going to spend as much for a sculpture as it would cost to house a family of four for a year in her neck of the woods. And he wouldn’t even belong to her.
“They could easily get five times what they’re asking at auction and sell him to someone here in Scotland.”
This statue was a one of a kind and would be well worth the money.
Why was she so drawn to him? He wouldn’t fit in her studio with all her own work. He’d have to go on the porch outside her studio. The insurance would probably be astronomical. She cupped his cheek and felt the curve against her palm. He had to be fashioned after a real man.  She’d do some research and find out. She bent and whispered in his pointed ear. “Do you want to come to America with me?”
Taylor chuckled.  
She looked up and smiled again.
“We can help you with the transport arrangements. We often ship things stateside via plane and ship.”
“I’d appreciate that.” She reached inside her coat pocket and withdrew a business card with her name and contact information on it.
“You sound very sure they’ll sell him to me.”
“I can’t be completely certain, but they remembered your interest in him when you visited the castle, a few weeks back. ‘Twas from them I got your number. They seemed interested in giving you first dibs.”
“If they decide my offer is enough, I’ll give him a good home and he’ll be in out of the rain and snow.”
Taylor smiled, his light brown eyes alight with amusement. “You speak about and to him as though he’s alive.”
“My own sculptures seem alive to me. I breathe life into them with my hammer and chisel. Whoever sculpted him,” She nodded toward the gargoyle. “Thought the same.”
Taylor turned his attention to the statue with a thoughtful look. “Too bad they didn’t give him a more pleasant expression. But then he wouldn’t have scared away evil spirits nearly as well.”
“He wouldn’t be nearly as interesting either.” Genevieve wandered toward the exit and Taylor turned to walk with her.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked.
“I’ve taken up enough of your time and I’m sure you have other responsibilities waiting for you.”
“Actually I’m through for the day and I’d be pleased if you’d join me. There’s an Italian restaurant just up the street.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him through the door.  
Genevieve studied his narrow face with its warm brown eyes and shaggy blond hair. A quick twinge of grief assailed her and she started to turn him down but hesitated. She’d only be in Scotland another three days. But it might be pleasant to spend an hour with an attractive man. She’d never see him again. 
And Simon her agent wasn’t here to warn her away from him, as he always did.
They came to a stop in the entrance foyer. “Italian sounds good.”
Taylor smiled his eyes alight with pleasure. “I’ll just get my coat and umbrella.
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I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. And look for a Halloween release!!! I'm so excited about this book. I love my hero, the gargoyle, and there's an unexpected twist in the book I think you'll find as creepy as I did. 

Read on,
Teresa Reasor 



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Tuesday, September 5, 2017

An Excerpt from Breaking Free (Book 1 of the SEAL Team Heartbreakers)

I'm working on the 7th book of my SEAL Team Heartbreakers Series BREAKING HEARTS.  I already have the cover (to be introduced later). And I've been plotting this thing for a while now. Bowie is the true heartbreaker of the team and I've decided he needs to fall hard. He's possibly the most complicated character in the series because of his backstory. (I'll say that while I'm writing him until I get to the 8th book, Derrick Armstrong's story) 
But until I get BREAKING HEARTS done, I thought I'd publish excerpts from the other books each week. 
Of course I have to start with the first book published in 2011.  It doesn't even seem possible that I've written 5 more books and 2 novellas for the series since then but I have. And there will be 2 more full lengths before the series will transition to another SEAL Team. 

That being said... here's an excerpt from  Breaking Free (Book 1 of the SEAL Team Heartbrearkers Series)


Zoe heard her mother’s door close down the hall and struggled to rise from the bed. She couldn’t sleep until things were settled between Hawk and her. She wouldn’t be able to stay under his roof, if they didn’t try to reach some kind of understanding.
Her leg ached as she made her way back down the hall to the kitchen. The exterior door stood open to the porch and she stopped at the threshold and scanned the room.
Hawks arms stretched along the edge of the hot tub and his head was tilted back against a cushion. Ropy, well-defined muscles stood out in his neck, shoulders, upper arms, and chest. Though she knew every muscle, had anyone asked her to recite the names at this moment, she wouldn’t have been able to identify a single one. Black hair dusted his chest just above the waterline. The size and strength of him awed her. The beauty of him stole her breath and made it hard for her to swallow. She forced air into her lungs and tried to block off the physical response that made it difficult for her to focus.
She took two decisive steps into the room. “I didn’t want to go to bed without settling things between us.”
His lids rose, his pale gray gaze fastening on her face for a moment before they slid downward over the faded sweat pants and cropped t-shirt she wore. He homed in on the two-inch band of bare skin just above her waistband, and a tempting tingle arrowed downward. Her knees grew weak. How could he make her hot and wet with just a look?
“I wondered when you’d be back to bust my chops.” He sat up from his reclining position. “I was out of line earlier.”
Surprise kept her silent for a moment. “I’m not here looking for a boyfriend. I’m here for Brett.”
“I know that.”
“I’m not a flirt or a tease either.”
“If what I said led you to believe I thought that, Zoe, you’re mistaken. I’m sorry.”
He hooked his hands upon the rim of the tub and hiked himself up on the wide tile edge around it.
After the first glimpse of a rock hard six-pack bisected by a thin line of hair that disappeared beneath a brief black swimsuit, she averted her gaze. She wandered to the screen door to focus her attention outside until she could get her breathing under control.
“My concern wasn’t just about the cohesive condition of my team, Zoe. I was concerned about you, too.”
Sure. The only blip she made on his radar screen was as a possible problem for him or his team.
“The men have been pressuring you.”
“They’d be that way with any woman who came within their scope. It’s the male way of being friendly. Because I’m Brett’s sister, they’ll tease and flirt, but they’re not really serious about pursuing me.” She forced herself to face him, just to prove to herself she could do it and still breathe.
Hawk probed her expression. “I heard Bowie ask you out, and it didn’t sound like he was just interested in flirting.”
Her cheeks grew hot. “I’m sure he’s used that same line, and his killer dimples, with great success on any number of women. I didn’t take him seriously.”
His frown set his features in lines of masculine aggression. “Why not?”
She’d learned the hard way that men were only interested in girls who could keep up with them. To him and his men, a five-mile run was probably a cakewalk. There were days, walking across the room was like running a marathon for her.
“I’m not interested in a temporary relationship.”
“Who’s to say it would be?”
If she’d harbored any hopes he was the least bit interested in her, he’d just doused them. That was a good thing. He was doing her a favor. Being involved with a military man wasn’t what she needed anyway. Seeing Brett in his condition offered her enough heartache already.
She leaned back against the door facing and studied his expression. “Are you encouraging me to go out with Bowie?”
“No.” A frown drew his brows into a V above the bridge of his nose setting his features into intimidating lines. She wondered what he would be like truly angry. Probably scary as hell.
“I’m glad you’re not trying to tell me what to do because we both know I’ll do as I please.”
A warning glint lit his pale gray gaze as their eyes met. Just when she began to grow concerned they were about to have words again, a smile broke across his features and he laughed.
“How’s the knee?” she asked, changing the subject. “You’ve been on it a lot today.”
“It’s feeling better after a few minutes in the hot tub. Why don’t you join me?”
Even knowing he meant nothing by the invitation, her pulse hammered at her throat and wrists. A fantasy of all that smooth skin and hard muscle, wet and warm beneath her hands, flashed through her mind. “I haven’t got a bathing suit.” She hoped her voice sounded normal.
“Then come in, in what you have on now,” he suggested. “You could cut your sweats off into shorts so the water can circulate around your legs.”
Though tempted, too many painful past experiences triggered a feeling of panic that made it hard for her to swallow.
She forced a smile to her lips. “And ruin the fashion statement I’m trying to make,” she teased.
“We’ll pick a bathing suit up tomorrow at the PX then.”
“I have other things to spend my money on right now, Hawk.”
“I’ll spring for it. You can’t come to California and not have a bathing suit. This is the surf, sand, and sun state.”
She couldn’t meet the challenge she read in his gaze; she’d learned that the hard way. “I appreciate the offer, Hawk, but I probably won’t have any time to enjoy the surf and sun and I’m certainly not too fond of sand.”
“It isn’t one of my favorite things, either, since BUD/S training.” He pushed off the rim of the hot tub back into the water. “You could lie down on the lounge and talk to me while I soak.”
She hesitated, torn between the inexplicable attraction he held for her, and her need to keep him at a distance. The more time she spent with him, the more difficult it would be to ignore her response to him. And what if he discovered how she felt? Her stomach rolled and she placed a hand against it.
She turned to find him watching her and her legs grew weak.
“It could be dangerous for you to stay in the hot tub alone,” she said as she stretched out on the lounge and drew a pillow beneath her head. “There have been instances of people being overcome by the heat of the water and drowning.”
“That would certainly be an ironic end to my SEAL career. You’d better stick around.”
His droll tone made her laugh. She wiggled and turned on her side. She intercepted a smile that softened his features and brought an answering one to her lips.
As hard as he tried not to look, Hawk’s attention rested on that thin strip of pale skin visible beneath the bottom of her cropped t-shirt. He ached to reach out and follow the hollow dip of her belly to her navel with his fingers, then his lips. The drawstring dangling just below her belly button seemed to be giving directions. His gaze followed the round curve of one breast clearly defined beneath her t-shirt as she tucked her hands beneath her cheek.
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He found the combination of sensual young woman and innocence tempting as hell. He drew a deep breath and, closing his eyes, tilted his head back against the cushion again. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t in the water with him. He’d grown hard as a torpedo and the possibilities were just too explosive.

The Blurb: 
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When Lieutenant “Hawk” Yazzie rescues Ensign Brett “Cutter” Weaver during a mission in Iraq, his faith in his team’s loyalty is shaken. Someone in the team attacked Cutter and left him for dead. But who?

Zoe Weaver races to her brother Brett’s bedside. He stood by her while she fought her way back from a devastating injury, and she’s determined to do the same for him. Though drawn to Hawk’s good looks and steady strength, she’s reluctant to get involved with a man in uniform. But with Brett lying in a coma, Hawk may prove the key to what happened to her brother.

Hawk is torn between loyalty to his men and his need to see justice done. When he tries to save a troubled teammate’s career, he unwittingly puts Zoe’s life in danger. Can he lead the rest of the team in a rescue operation to save her? Or will one of Hawk's brothers in arms destroy the woman he loves?


And by the way this first book in the series is FREE  everywhere. 

Google play: http://bit.ly/1KFpqJF

I hope you enjoyed my excerpt.  Thanks so much for stopping by my blog. And I'd love to hear from you.  

If you'd like to sign up for my newsletter http://bit.ly/I7TtiC  or follow me on my Author page on Amazon http://amzn.to/1j6OYPg you'll know when my next book will be out. 

The next book will be DEEP WITHIN THE STONE.  I'm hopeful it will be out for Halloween since it's a paranormal romantic suspense.  

I have a fantastic cover created by Tracy Stewart my fantastic cover artist.  



Here's the blurb:

THE BEAUTY…


Like Michelangelo, gifted sculptor Genevieve Warren believes her purpose is to set free the beings she can sense trapped inside the stone she carves. But she’s never had a sculpture speak to her like the rare 14th century gargoyle left out in the elements to crumble in a castle garden. Because of Scottish antiquity law, she can’t buy him, but she leases him and has him shipped home. However, she’s left to wonder why his owners are so eager to get rid of part of their history.

THE BEAST…

Finlay MacLeod has spent centuries as a monster. Stone by day and beast at night, he craves an escape from the endless loneliness of his existence. When Genevieve cares for the stone sculpture as though he’s real, he hopes he’s found someone who will care for the monster imprisoned inside it, too… help him end his suffering.  But first he must reveal to her he’s alive.

THE CURSE…

Genevieve becomes aware there are mystical things afoot when she’s told dark magic surrounds the sculpture she’s imported. The reality of what she’s welcomed into her life is more fantastic and compelling than anything she could have imagined.

But there’s more than one kind of monster prowling the hills and valleys of Superstition. One has decided that only Genevieve can feed his many hungers.  He’s watching, waiting, and moving closer every moment.

Read on!
Teresa Reasor  
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Wednesday, July 26, 2017

The Power of the Paragraph

I've been working diligently on my next book. Deep Within The Stone. I'm almost done. I'm 54,000 words in and heading for home. YEA! But I'm not quite there yet.

 When you write, it's a never ending learning experience. I learn something with every book. I usually do research for every book before I start and all during the writing process. For this one, I've done research on sculptural techniques for different mediums, magic, being an empath, and gargoyles: their history, purpose, structure. I have a wonderful coffee table book I've left out for people to look at and enjoy. If you're as interested (obsessed) with gargoyles as I am, you might want to check it out. The text is written by Stephen King and the photos by F-stop Fitzgerald.  It's very entertaining. And it's about the gargoyles in New York City. Titled Nightmares in the Sky. What else would King be writing about? LOL



But to get back to the subject I really want to talk about: writing.  Something else I'm obsessed with. Writing in itself is learning. It's like taking notes to study for a test, but more entertaining. And there's more to it because you're applying what you learn each time you do it.

Lately I've been concentrating on Sentence Variety Patterns. When you write a paragraph you attempt to use a variety of patterns so you don't use the same sentence structure for every sentence. Like, for instance, starting every sentence with he or she.

So I did some research about the ways to start a sentence to switch it up and though it's automatic for me to do that, I'm making a conscious effort to pay closer attention to doing it. I'm finding I don't have to do as much editing because I'm making an added effort.

Here are some ways to start a sentence that will help you mix it up: (I'm going to use sentences from my current WIP Deep Within The Stone as examples.

Sentence Variety Patterns

Start with a prepositional phrase—(tells where or when) From his perch on one of the spires, he studied the surrounding area.  (No comma unless you use two prepositional phrases in a row) After six hundred and sixty-two years as a monster, he no longer believed he would ever return to his human form. (I think prepositions are like potato chips, I can't seem to use just one.)

Start with an adverb clause— (starts with if, when, although, because, whenever, and since)When the people’s movements became sluggish and sparse, he tired of watching them. 


Start with an infinitive phrase— (word to followed by a verb) To produce something everyone can view, discuss, and enjoy, will make the work I sell more valuable.

Use an adjective clause—(starts with who, which, that, whom, whose, but sometimes those are understood in the sentence)  The tactile surface of the dry clay felt silky smooth as she ran her fingers over the figure's arm.  


Use an appositive—(added information about a noun or pronoun, inclosed by commas) He tried to guide her to safer subjects, more mainstream art forms, and that wasn’t where she wanted to go. 

Begin with a participial phrase— (a participial is a form of a verb used as an adjective and they usually end in ING) Simon, busy driving the car, was unaware of her anger. 

Begin with a gerund— a gerund is a verb with an ING ending that is used as a noun.   Driving home, they discussed the Richards purchase of her drawings. ( I have a pet peave about these. I only use them if there is a possibility of two actions occurring at the same time.)


I've paraphrased this information from The Best Little Grammar Book Ever (101 Ways to Impress With Your Writing and Speaking by Arlene Miller. 

I don't claim to be a grammar guru, so if I have any of these wrong, sing out. 

I do try to use complex sentence structures in my writing and make it as active as possible. Every paragraph in a story should tell a story within itself.  Like this  example paragraph: 

 Simon Martin climbed from behind the wheel with the grace of a dancer. His black suit fit his tall, trim frame to perfection, emphasizing his dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. His rich gray shirt, paired with a black and red silk tie, looked too dressy to be anywhere near her studio. Hyperaware of her appearance, she looked down at her dust coated coveralls and grimaced. The jeans and t-shirt beneath them weren’t much better.

Stringing those complex sentences together into paragraph after paragraph is like telling a thousand short stories. 

My goal is to make every paragraph so much a part of the story, every one of them is interesting. Maybe an impossibility, but I'll keep trying. 

Read on,
Teresa Reasor  

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Paranormals: Fun, Adventurous, Romantic, Creative & SEXY as Hell

I love writing Paranormal Romance. I love reading them as well. My SEAL Team Heartbreaker Series is based in reality, and I love writing about my guys. But my Superstition Series is based totally inside my imagination. Even the town Superstition, Kentucky is right there in my head. It has a small community college, a library that is utilized by the public and the college students, like many college libraries, and it has streets named for things based in magic.  

I'm not saying that reality isn't as interesting a writing experience, but sometimes it's fun to step away and let the impossible happen.

And writing Paranormal Romance does give me a break from the deep immersion into the military life and the intense emotions I usually experience when I live in my SEALs' world for a long time.

My paranormal characters experience heart-wrenching things and have hot sexual encounters just like my SEAL characters.  But sometimes the love making my paranormal characters share has a little Magic sprinkled in that makes their physical engagements pretty interesting. Sometimes their abilities can be a hindrance and sometimes they can accentuate their feelings and responses.


Whisper in My Ear


Excerpt: 
Would spending time with him cause her to wish for something she couldn’t have? Of course it would. “Then maybe this is a mistake.”
Drew stepped close, cupped the back of her head and kissed her.
The gentle pressure of his mouth was intent but not forceful. Her first seconds of resistance washed away upon the tide of longing and need rushing through her. The heat from his body wrapped her in warmth, drawing her in. Her bag fell from her shoulder and hit the floor.
She slid her arms around his waist and leaned into him. She inhaled in his unique Merman scent.
When his tongue slipped between her lips she groaned. He tasted like expensive bourbon and him. Her tongue tangled with his while Drew’s arms tightened around her, holding her closer. She felt his response and fought the urge to rise on tiptoe to better fit her body to his.
Drew gently broke the kiss, and she opened her eyes to look up at him. A gasp escaped. The normal human planes of his face had transitioned to something more angular and rugged, his cheekbones flatter and more prominent, his eyes holding a preternatural glow. He looked…foreign, majestic and…desirable.
“What is it?’ he asked.
Movement down the hall caught her attention. A man and woman approached, neighbors who lived in three-nineteen. They couldn’t see him like this. She grasped Drew’s arm and tugged him into her apartment and shut the door.
His expression, both bemused and surprised, had her shaking her head. How had he not felt the change? She pointed at a mirror over the couch. “Look at yourself.”
The light over the door signaled her doorbell had rung. She motioned Drew to step out of sight, and then opened the door.
Mrs. Stein, the woman she’d seen coming down the hall, held out Katrina’s purse, her gray brows raised. “I don’t think you want to leave this out here in the hall.”
Katrina’s cheeks burned and she forced a laugh. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Thank you.”
“Good night,” Mrs. Stein said with a nod and strolled down the hall.

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Katrina closed the door and leaned back against it, her attention returning to Drew where he stood in front of the couch and stared into the mirror.

THE BLURB: 

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?




Google Play: http://bit.ly/1DYityV

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Vampire relationships are always complicated. Especially if you're not just vampire but had a few extra tallents.  And my Vampires can share their power with one another.  Think about it, bitting can add a special little something to the mating ritual. Being immortal where you can be with the same person for hundreds of years can be a turn on or a drag, depending on the relationship. But being strong enough to bench press a car can come in handy during love-making from a stamina point of view. LOL 
 Magic and Mayhem: Once Bitten, Twice Shy  


AN EXCERPT: 
“I think we’re clean enough, don’t you?” he asked, cupping her breasts while he nibbled her earlobe and his breath fanned her neck. Delightful shivers trailed down her spine, and her breasts felt full and tight beneath his touch.
“Yes.” She cupped his face and guided his mouth to hers. Her power wrapped around them and lifted them out of the water and onto their feet.
His impressive erection pressed against her belly. She cupped it and explored its length and thickness. Hunter’s gray gaze glowed blue as his power flared and enveloped her in warmth. He lifted her easily, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
The trip between tub and bed took but a second, and she held onto him while he crawled up on the bed. She lay back to gaze up into his face. “There are real perks to having vampire skills sometimes.”
He chuckled. “And strength.”
He removed the comb from her hair and ran his fingers through the shoulder-length locks, his power intensifying and spreading like static electricity over her skin. She caught her breath at the sensation and ran her hands up his chest. Then she forked her fingers through the dark hair at the back of his head and tugged his mouth back to hers.
Their lips clung, and their tongues meshed in a kiss that had her rolling her hips against him, inviting a deeper intimacy. He nipped at her shoulder without breaking the skin, then slid lower to take one nipple into his mouth to suck, then the other.
She caressed his neck and shoulders and let her power flow over him in a caress. He looked up at her, his eyes aglow, his fangs lengthening. “I want to bite you every time you do that…among other things.”
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His hand trailed over her belly and lower. He tempted her with his fingers and she bowed her back. His name emerged somewhere between a plea and a prayer.

THE BLURB:
Somewhere off the beaten path in the World of Magic and Mayhem, there’s a little-visited trail that leads to a realm of vampire politics, danger and maybe even death.


Phoebe Stewart only agreed to marry Trevor Ricci to secure peace between their warring vampire clans. When her groom poisons her during the wedding ceremony, and her life expectancy falls from forever to a week, “till death do you part” takes on a whole new meaning. When she catches up with her new husband, she intends to stake and roast the traitorous, narcissistic weenie. 
Especially now she’s met Hunter Knox, the bad boy alpha vampire she’s been waiting for her whole death. 
Agent Hunter Knox works for the National Vampire Security Council. When a poison that can actually kill their species surfaces, he’s dead set on finding and destroying it. But once he meets Phoebe, and realizes she only has days to live, the need for an antidote takes priority. 
And the more he gets to know her, the more he suspects she may be as important to vampire kind as she’s becoming to him.


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In Paranormal Romance love can last longer than one lifetime. Sometimes it can last several. Not only for vampires but normal folk who may have experienced love in another time. Exploring the possibilities of time travel, reincarnation, and multi-dimensions all in the same book might be a little over the top, but the story just seemed to come together like that in Timeless. 


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AN EXCERPT: 
As their mouths touched, desire thrummed through Quinn. Sensation rippled downward to settle in his groin, and he grew hard. The taste and feel of her was new, yet familiar. As he breathed in the clean scent of her skin, her hair, the fragrance changed to one of flowers and spice. A kaleidoscope of memories flashed through his mind making him dizzy. Regan lying naked on a dark pelt of fur, Regan welcoming him inside her body, her moans of pleasure driving his own desire higher. But not Regan. He had never been with her.
A sweet rush of love and tenderness crashed over him like nothing he had ever experienced. His mouth slanted across hers, and his tongue delved into her mouth reaching for hers. It had been so long since he’d had this, an eternity.
Regan’s hands beneath his sweater against his back helped him shake free of the memories. He needed to stop, to get away from her, but his feet seemed planted into the wood of the floor. A compulsive need urged him to mold her closer, to hold on tight. He broke the kiss. ”Regan—”
Her eyes looked large and drowsy with desire, her lips berry red. He slipped his hands beneath her sweater to stroke and caress the bare width of her back. She was warm and real. Memory and reality clashed and fought in his head. “We shouldn’t do this, lass.”
Her hands cupped his face. “Just one more, and we won’t.” She drew his lips back and her tongue tangled with his. He groaned as she rose on tiptoe again to fit herself against him more fully.
The intrusive feelings and thoughts receded and it was Regan, all Regan. Relief had him tightening his arms, molding her closer. The kiss went on and on.
His breathing ragged, he turned his face against her throat to nibble the tender skin and trace, with his lips, the edge of her jaw to her ear. She shuddered as he nipped the tender lobe and drew it into his mouth.
“Quinn—” Her soft, husky tone did things to him he couldn’t control or resist.
“Just one more, eh?” he murmured and drew back to look down at her, his lips twitching with sudden humor.
Her flushed cheeks darkened to a deeper pink. “I didn’t want to regret missing out on something I’ve been curious about.”
He raised one brow as he studied her face. “And did I satisfy your curiosity?”
“Yes.” She shifted to rest her head against his chest.
He tightened his arms around her. “And what would you have been curious about?” He cupped the back of her head, holding her close.
“If you kiss as well in person, as you do in my dreams.”
“I kissed you on the dock once before.”
“Yes, but not like this.”
“You’ve been dreaming about me?”
“You, or an identical facsimile.”
Her answer had his muscles tensing for it brought the experience he’d just had back to the forefront. God, he had no business getting involved with her. If there wasn’t a conflict of interest professionally, there was conflict of a different kind brewing. This was just asking for trouble—for them both.


THE BLURB: 
Archaeology student, Regan Stanhope, lands the chance of a lifetime when she’s chosen to work on a summer dig in Loch Maree, Scotland. The ancient monoliths hidden beneath the loch are the most important discovery since Stonehenge. And for seven hundred years, they have been waiting—for her.
Saturation diver Quinn Douglas is contracted to recover some of the megaliths from the loch’s bottom. The job will breathe life into the struggling salvage business he and his brothers are building. But from the moment he arrives, Quinn is plagued by dreams and feelings from a past he did not live. Or did he?

Regan and Quinn are drawn to each other as they research the monoliths and the reason behind their shared visions. But both sense something mystical at work, delving into their minds, manipulating their emotions. And when they finally discover the monoliths’ extraordinary secret, they know they must seal them away from those who are desperate to unlock their power. Even if it means remaining caught in a timeless struggle between the past and present forever.




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Another element of writing Paranormal Romance is MAGIC.   Yes,  Magic can be important. There's the Magic of the romance itself without which the story wouldn't be nearly as interesting.  The Magic of  the characters and how they interact in the story. The Magic of building their relationships. And the Magic they perform in bed and out.  Sometimes making love has a Magic of its own when love is present. 




Deep Within The Shadows

AN EXCERPT: 
She reached for the bottom of his T-shirt and ran a questing hand beneath to touch his skin. Caleb yanked it up and off, and threw it aside. The muscular slope of his shoulders and chest looked so wide and powerful. She had to be closer to him, and feel his skin against hers. She swung a leg over his lap and straddled him.
Caleb cupped her bottom with one hand as he slid back onto the bed, taking her with him. He reached for her sweater and tugged it up. So focused on the driving need to feel him inside her, Miranda shed the sweater without a second thought. He reached for her bra, and she allowed it to slide forward so he could toss it aside. She shivered at the delicious brush of her nipples against the hair blanketing his upper chest. She wanted to nestle into him like a second layer of skin and wrap herself around him.
He cupped one breast and kneaded it gently. She had dreamed of having his hands all over her, craved them. She pressed into his palm in response, and relished the sensation that trailed from her breast downward when he squeezed her nipple.
She cupped his jaw and tilted his head so she could kiss him. Her tongue tangled with his in a slow dance that had her blood racing, and she groaned at the onslaught of a sweet rush. He ran a hand up her back to cradle her against him and turned so she could stretch out beside him.
His gaze swept down her naked torso, and his eyes had never burned so hot a blue. He trailed his fingertips down between her breasts and over the dip between her ribcage to her waist and the top of her slacks. “You’re trembling.”
“I want this so much.” Her voice shook. “Want you.”
“You’re the only thing I thought about for months overseas, and all I’ve wanted since I got home.” He unhooked her waistband and slid down the zipper, his movements unhurried, apparently savoring every moment as much as she. When he slipped a hand inside the fabric and around her hip she lifted up so he could tug them down and away.
She didn’t feel embarrassed or uneasy being naked, vulnerable with him, only cherished, wanted. When he ran a hand along her bare hip, she turned against him, seeking the warmth of his skin against hers. She traced his collarbone with her lips, then the heavy pulse beating at his throat.
Caleb drew a ragged breath. His hands moved slowly, insistently, caressing her. He pushed her back and slid down to caress her breast with his lips and tongue. When he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, she gasped at the titillating pleasure coursing deep inside.
She raked her fingers through his hair, discovering the texture of the faintly coarse waves and curls that twined around her fingers. The brush of his stubble against her breasts heightened her desire, but not as much as the realization that she was experiencing this with Caleb, sharing it with him.
Fear had held her back for so long, she was amazed by the tiniest sensation. She couldn’t touch him enough, share a deep enough kiss. Every heartbeat felt like the first. She loved freely for the first time. When he shook free of his jeans and rose above her, she welcomed him. The brief feeling of pressure and discomfort lasted only a moment, then he was inside her, filling the hungry, sensual void, and her heart. The sweet intimacy of being a part of him was almost overwhelming, and she fought back the tears.
He froze for a moment, a question in his gaze as he looked down at her.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

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She caught the rhythm of Caleb’s slow, steady movements, and the desire building to give to him as he was giving to her rose up and carried her forward. She reached for the surprising, encompassing pleasure he gave her with joy. It built to a tantalizing crest, until she was almost afraid she might fly apart. She curved her arms up his back and held on as it took her.

THE BLURB: 
Welcome to Superstition, Kentucky
Twins Miranda and Juliet Templeton have been haunted by childhood trauma their entire lives. One has the reputation for being bold and rash, the other compulsively responsible. When both are viciously attacked within minutes of each other, they are forced to leave their differences behind in order to survive. 

Caleb Faulkner has always loved Miranda Templeton. Her letters to him, during his deployment gave him a slice of home to hold on to. Even though they’re finally together, something is keeping her from acting on her feelings. When she and her sister are injured Caleb’s driven to protect them both. But all his military training can’t help him combat this danger. 

Detective Chase Robinson is lead investigator for the murder of Tanner Newton. When the two hired thugs responsible for Tanner’s death are killed and Juliet, his only witness, nearly strangled to death, Chase is certain the crimes are connected. He decides to stay close to the twins so he can catch the real killer. But his police training is useless against his growing feelings for Juliet and what’s hiding Deep Within The Shadows.




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I hope you enjoyed the excerpts from some of my paranormal romances. Writing is a kind of magic for me. It is my first love and my passion.  Thank you for letting me share it with you. 

I'd love some comments if you're moved to leave them.

Read on, 

Teresa Reasor