Thursday, May 31, 2007
Haven't I whined about this before?
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Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Where I go to make the magic happen...
Probably more appropriately titled, 'whenever and wherever I can steal the time/place to write'.
I have three kids. I didn't two years ago, but meeting and marrying the man of my dreams has certain privileges (my two full time stepdaughters) and challenges (my two full time stepdaughters). In addition to my own 3 year old, we've got a full house and all the writing challenges that implies.
So basically, my workspace is the kitchen table if I can keep 3 from running his cars along the top. Or the island in the kitchen if I can't. (The kitchen offers a good view of the living room and the kids' rooms so I can keep watch at all times because 8 and 12 require watching to make sure they don't do girlish injury to each other. One's a tomboy, one's a princess with a mean right hook, lol.).
Now, if the older ones are at school and 3 decides to nap, then I occasionally get to prop my feet up on the daybed in my guest room/office and create from there. Or if that's not happening because of the construction across the street, I might end up on the couch or by the fireplace in the winter months.
Or, if I'm lucky, in the shade by the pool in the summer months. My hubby hates it when I take work with me on vacation...unless I'm writing a sex scene and then he loves that I took work with me on vacation and tries to lure me into abandoned pool houses, *g*.
The best and worst part of my work is that I'm portable. And that I always think I can squeeze in a few words, even if the only safe place I can find to sit my laptop is on top of the kitchen cabinets while I watch the chaos run by beneath, lol.
Where do you work?
Anna J. Evans
I have three kids. I didn't two years ago, but meeting and marrying the man of my dreams has certain privileges (my two full time stepdaughters) and challenges (my two full time stepdaughters). In addition to my own 3 year old, we've got a full house and all the writing challenges that implies.
So basically, my workspace is the kitchen table if I can keep 3 from running his cars along the top. Or the island in the kitchen if I can't. (The kitchen offers a good view of the living room and the kids' rooms so I can keep watch at all times because 8 and 12 require watching to make sure they don't do girlish injury to each other. One's a tomboy, one's a princess with a mean right hook, lol.).
Now, if the older ones are at school and 3 decides to nap, then I occasionally get to prop my feet up on the daybed in my guest room/office and create from there. Or if that's not happening because of the construction across the street, I might end up on the couch or by the fireplace in the winter months.
Or, if I'm lucky, in the shade by the pool in the summer months. My hubby hates it when I take work with me on vacation...unless I'm writing a sex scene and then he loves that I took work with me on vacation and tries to lure me into abandoned pool houses, *g*.
The best and worst part of my work is that I'm portable. And that I always think I can squeeze in a few words, even if the only safe place I can find to sit my laptop is on top of the kitchen cabinets while I watch the chaos run by beneath, lol.
Where do you work?
Anna J. Evans
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
I was going to post a picture...
...but my desk is still a mess. It's piled with papers I either need to file or shred. I like my desk for writing because I've gotten used to sitting at a computer when I'm writing. Even when I'm using my PDA and portable keyboard, I need to be at a table. I put my earphones on and set my iPod to my "JustMusic" playlist and put my mind to writing. My desk sits in a corner of the living room of my apartment, unfortunately within easy reach of the TV. Heck, my computer is continuously connected to the Internet, another perpetual distraction. Unlike Sherrill, I don't have a second bedroom to turn into an office (though I'd *love* one). At least my desk is out of my bedroom which was my previous living arrangement.
While I do my writing at my desk, the majority of my ideas come to me either in the shower or as I'm falling asleep. Sometimes I remember to keep a pad of paper and pen on hand by my bed, but only rarely. What I'd love to find is something I could write notes on in the shower. Anyone have any ideas?
While I do my writing at my desk, the majority of my ideas come to me either in the shower or as I'm falling asleep. Sometimes I remember to keep a pad of paper and pen on hand by my bed, but only rarely. What I'd love to find is something I could write notes on in the shower. Anyone have any ideas?
Monday, May 28, 2007
Where I Write
I live in a two-bedroom casita (about 900 square feet) with a small but private back yard. The second bedroom is set up as my home office, with a small desk, computer, a fairly comfortable chair and three bookcases overflowing with books. Reference books at my fingertips, plus lots and lots of fiction.
You'd think that'd be where I park my butt to write, wouldn't you?
It isn't. I do better with my feet up, so I'm usually in the living room on either my recliner or the sofa, laptop perched on a lapdesk on my thighs. Most times I have the TV on but, if I really need to concentrate on a particularly difficult scene, I'll tune the TV to the classical station on Music Choice. And if it's not too hot outside, I take the laptop out to my patio and work there--even my patio chairs have ottomans so I can put my feet up!
As long as I have a mongo glass of iced tea, I'm all set.
Nothin' glamorous 'bout me!
If you're here in the States, enjoy your Memorial Day. Otherwise, happy Monday!
You'd think that'd be where I park my butt to write, wouldn't you?
It isn't. I do better with my feet up, so I'm usually in the living room on either my recliner or the sofa, laptop perched on a lapdesk on my thighs. Most times I have the TV on but, if I really need to concentrate on a particularly difficult scene, I'll tune the TV to the classical station on Music Choice. And if it's not too hot outside, I take the laptop out to my patio and work there--even my patio chairs have ottomans so I can put my feet up!
As long as I have a mongo glass of iced tea, I'm all set.
Nothin' glamorous 'bout me!
If you're here in the States, enjoy your Memorial Day. Otherwise, happy Monday!
Friday, May 25, 2007
What's in a Name...
(Yes, this is x-posted from my personal blog, because A, I thought it was important; B, I don't have anything to plug until July; and C, I'm very lazy.)
I'm pretty sure all of you know that "December Quinn" is not my real name. Because it's not. I love it, I answer to it, I'm used by now to being called it. But it's not my real name, it's a name I created specifically for my erotic books. For a number of reasons which I'm sure I don't need to detail, I decided that keeping my identity rather more secret while writing primarily about people having sex in a variety of positions, places, and orifices, no matter how romantic the story may ultimately be, was a good idea.
My real name has other distinct disadvantages. I've never particularly liked it, for one. My married last name has an unfortunate similarity to a vulgar word (all it takes is one lazy vowel sound) which again, if you're writing erotic, you want to avoid that. Plus, and this is rather more personal, not long after moving to the UK my husband fell out with his father, for reasons too complex to go into here, and they haven't spoken in about a year. Suffice it to say that my husband has never particularly cared for having that man's name--he's thought of changing it for 25 years--and we don't want to anymore.
So we're changing our name. And the reason this matters to you is, we're changing it to the last name of my new "other psuedonym"" Stacia Kane.
And the other pseudonym is news to you because it is the name under which Juno Books will be publishing Personal Demons early next year as a mass market paperback!!
So although legally my name is not yet Stacia Kane, it will be (okay, I'll probably keep my actual first name, which is Stacey. But "Stacey Kane" was already taken as a domain name, and I've always liked Stacia a little bit more, although it still doesn't thrill me. But it sounds good with Kane, and the hubs and I are sold on Kane.)
Nothing changes here, although I may add "Stacia Kane" to the title of the blog, because when the new SK site is up and running I'll simply direct that blog here as well. The name change is simply for branding purposes; I want people to know that when they pick up a DQ book they're getting HEA romance with (most likely) lots of sex; when they pick up an SK book they may get a more ambiguous ending with less focus on romance and less sex (though they'll get some sex either way, never fear. There's what I think is a cracking hot sex scene in Personal Demons and there will be more in future books too.) Hopefully they'll like both. I don't think the voice is all that different, just the subject matter and focus.
So there you go.
Wheeee! I sold my urban fantasy!!!
I'm pretty sure all of you know that "December Quinn" is not my real name. Because it's not. I love it, I answer to it, I'm used by now to being called it. But it's not my real name, it's a name I created specifically for my erotic books. For a number of reasons which I'm sure I don't need to detail, I decided that keeping my identity rather more secret while writing primarily about people having sex in a variety of positions, places, and orifices, no matter how romantic the story may ultimately be, was a good idea.
My real name has other distinct disadvantages. I've never particularly liked it, for one. My married last name has an unfortunate similarity to a vulgar word (all it takes is one lazy vowel sound) which again, if you're writing erotic, you want to avoid that. Plus, and this is rather more personal, not long after moving to the UK my husband fell out with his father, for reasons too complex to go into here, and they haven't spoken in about a year. Suffice it to say that my husband has never particularly cared for having that man's name--he's thought of changing it for 25 years--and we don't want to anymore.
So we're changing our name. And the reason this matters to you is, we're changing it to the last name of my new "other psuedonym"" Stacia Kane.
And the other pseudonym is news to you because it is the name under which Juno Books will be publishing Personal Demons early next year as a mass market paperback!!
So although legally my name is not yet Stacia Kane, it will be (okay, I'll probably keep my actual first name, which is Stacey. But "Stacey Kane" was already taken as a domain name, and I've always liked Stacia a little bit more, although it still doesn't thrill me. But it sounds good with Kane, and the hubs and I are sold on Kane.)
Nothing changes here, although I may add "Stacia Kane" to the title of the blog, because when the new SK site is up and running I'll simply direct that blog here as well. The name change is simply for branding purposes; I want people to know that when they pick up a DQ book they're getting HEA romance with (most likely) lots of sex; when they pick up an SK book they may get a more ambiguous ending with less focus on romance and less sex (though they'll get some sex either way, never fear. There's what I think is a cracking hot sex scene in Personal Demons and there will be more in future books too.) Hopefully they'll like both. I don't think the voice is all that different, just the subject matter and focus.
So there you go.
Wheeee! I sold my urban fantasy!!!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
New release and excerpt!!!
YAAAAY!!! It's out! WOLF BOUND is here!!! And to celebrate, I've got a brand-new excerpt for you!
Wolf Bound's the only book I've ever had that has TWO covers, LOL! The first is my official cover, by the incomparable Karen Foxx, who really nailed what Wolf looks like to me. The second was done by the wonderful Tuesday Dube, who was "just feeling inspired"! Tuesday, I love it, and thank you so much -- and everybody, Tuesday's got a website at www.dreaminginpurple.net, where she'll be posting more of her stuff -- check it out!
Jenna knows romance -- she should; it’s what she writes for a living. But why can’t love ever be as simple and magical as the stories she creates? When her latest book sells for a huge advance, Klaus, her lover, becomes threatened by her success, and strands her on a ski slope during a vacation in the Canadian Rockies.
Hiking down, Jenna becomes lost in a blizzard, and wakes to find herself in a snowed-in cave, rescued from death by an enigmatic lone wolf. When the wolf transforms before her eyes into a naked, stunningly sexy man, Jenna finds herself in a romance hotter and more fantastic than any bestseller she's ever written!
But she can’t possibly survive in Wolf’s vast, untamed world, any more than he could join her in hers. Now Jenna is faced with a bitter dilemma: if she stays, she’ll be putting his life at risk. If she leaves, it’s his heart she’ll be destroying…
EXCERPT
What would happen, if the helicopter came back tonight? Right now? If Klaus found her here, curled in Wolf’s arms? How much would Wolf understand? Would he simply see Klaus as a threat to her, Jenna? What if he…
Jenna swallowed against the sudden ice in her gut. What if he changed?
She glanced toward the cave’s entrance, suddenly terrified she’d hear the sound of beating rotors, see searchlights stabbing down across the plain outside…
“Wolf.” She shook his shoulder gently, then harder. “Wolf!”
He blinked awake, grumbling, then rose and went to the fire. She could hear the rustle of leaves, the snap of small twigs, then a strange, rhythmic scraping sound. Sparks bloomed in the darkness, flickered, went out.
Rolling onto her side, Jenna watched as he scraped two rocks together. This time, the sparks dropped into the tinder, and he blew on it gently, teasing the sparks into flame.
So that’s how he does it. With the -- oh, I should know what that is. I’ve read about it…
She’d read about werewolves too, and seen movies. Who hadn’t? But Wolf was nothing like the depictions she’d seen, any more than Young Guns bore any resemblance to the true Wild West.
“Wolf?”
He looked at her, smiling, and Jenna tried to keep the urgency from her voice. “Wolf, how do you change? I mean, when you --” God! This was difficult. How could she even ask what she needed to know? “Does anything, you know, make you change? Or do you just…”
He glanced at her quizzically, then rolled to his feet. Suddenly, with a ripple of motion, the wolf was standing before her, his yellow eyes gleaming. Then he was gone, and it was Wolf who stood there, his bent head brushing the roof of the cave. He squatted again and shrugged his broad shoulders.
“So you just choose to do it?” Relief flooded through her, and she threw herself at him, laughing happily. He grinned as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Oh, Wolf! You could come with me! You could be human all the time!”
She felt his shoulders stiffen, and Jenna paused, drawing back enough to look into his strong, handsome face. His grin was gone.
“Wolf? Couldn’t you?”
His eyes, studying her, were suddenly dark. He nodded, but his face looked grim.
Jenna shook her head, confused. “But we could… We could be together. Don’t you see?”
Slowly, he unwrapped her arms from his neck. “Enna,” he said. “Enna, I…”
He broke off in frustration, his heavy sigh almost a growl. He shook his head sharply, then reached out, taking her hand between his and raising it to his chest. Placing it flat against the swell of his pecs, he whispered, “Enna.” His eyes were haunted as he gazed at her. Beneath her palm, she could feel the thudding of his great heart. Then he started to change under her hand.
The sensation was almost like sand trickling through her fingers -- only instead of sand, it was flesh and fur, shifting under her grip like mist. “Wolf!” she cried, trying to grasp him, to hold him. “Wolf, no!” But he slipped from her hands and slid out of the cave. Throwing herself after him, Jenna screamed, “Wolf!”
Moonlight poured down, flooding the plain. It glimmered in the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes, and through their blur she saw Wolf racing across the snow, a gray, sleek shadow beneath crystal-white mountains, so beautiful, so graceful, so impossibly free…
“Oh, Wolf,” she whispered, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks. “Wolf, I love you.”
What would happen, if the helicopter came back tonight? Right now? If Klaus found her here, curled in Wolf’s arms? How much would Wolf understand? Would he simply see Klaus as a threat to her, Jenna? What if he…
Jenna swallowed against the sudden ice in her gut. What if he changed?
She glanced toward the cave’s entrance, suddenly terrified she’d hear the sound of beating rotors, see searchlights stabbing down across the plain outside…
“Wolf.” She shook his shoulder gently, then harder. “Wolf!”
He blinked awake, grumbling, then rose and went to the fire. She could hear the rustle of leaves, the snap of small twigs, then a strange, rhythmic scraping sound. Sparks bloomed in the darkness, flickered, went out.
Rolling onto her side, Jenna watched as he scraped two rocks together. This time, the sparks dropped into the tinder, and he blew on it gently, teasing the sparks into flame.
So that’s how he does it. With the -- oh, I should know what that is. I’ve read about it…
She’d read about werewolves too, and seen movies. Who hadn’t? But Wolf was nothing like the depictions she’d seen, any more than Young Guns bore any resemblance to the true Wild West.
“Wolf?”
He looked at her, smiling, and Jenna tried to keep the urgency from her voice. “Wolf, how do you change? I mean, when you --” God! This was difficult. How could she even ask what she needed to know? “Does anything, you know, make you change? Or do you just…”
He glanced at her quizzically, then rolled to his feet. Suddenly, with a ripple of motion, the wolf was standing before her, his yellow eyes gleaming. Then he was gone, and it was Wolf who stood there, his bent head brushing the roof of the cave. He squatted again and shrugged his broad shoulders.
“So you just choose to do it?” Relief flooded through her, and she threw herself at him, laughing happily. He grinned as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Oh, Wolf! You could come with me! You could be human all the time!”
She felt his shoulders stiffen, and Jenna paused, drawing back enough to look into his strong, handsome face. His grin was gone.
“Wolf? Couldn’t you?”
His eyes, studying her, were suddenly dark. He nodded, but his face looked grim.
Jenna shook her head, confused. “But we could… We could be together. Don’t you see?”
Slowly, he unwrapped her arms from his neck. “Enna,” he said. “Enna, I…”
He broke off in frustration, his heavy sigh almost a growl. He shook his head sharply, then reached out, taking her hand between his and raising it to his chest. Placing it flat against the swell of his pecs, he whispered, “Enna.” His eyes were haunted as he gazed at her. Beneath her palm, she could feel the thudding of his great heart. Then he started to change under her hand.
The sensation was almost like sand trickling through her fingers -- only instead of sand, it was flesh and fur, shifting under her grip like mist. “Wolf!” she cried, trying to grasp him, to hold him. “Wolf, no!” But he slipped from her hands and slid out of the cave. Throwing herself after him, Jenna screamed, “Wolf!”
Moonlight poured down, flooding the plain. It glimmered in the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes, and through their blur she saw Wolf racing across the snow, a gray, sleek shadow beneath crystal-white mountains, so beautiful, so graceful, so impossibly free…
“Oh, Wolf,” she whispered, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks. “Wolf, I love you.”
Here's the link!
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=606
I hope you enjoy Wolf Bound -- I have to admit, I love it!
-- Sierra
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=606
I hope you enjoy Wolf Bound -- I have to admit, I love it!
-- Sierra
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Release Today! Excerpt two in excerpt-palooza
Three blogs, three excerpts, three chances to preview the life-changing read that is--"Seducing the Enemy"....
Okay, maybe not life-changing, but...I think you'll enjoy it. This is excerpt 2 (in order of heat and story progression). For excerpt 1 hit my blog, and for excerpt 3, head over to the Nightwhispers blog.
Thanks for reading!! Hugs and happy Wednesday!
Anna J. Evans
Seducing the Enemy
By Anna J. Evans
Naughty Nuptials Quickie
Available May 23 2007
Ellora's Cave
Link: http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=AJE
![[image]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_uJsGTgX_XAz-iXaJteLffKFu20IrRSQkphrmG69EIuNtUycYOQ0c1FVfAY-AtEDV1se95zQTxMyKbYGNGTBRe-milXZB4ktVY_t6fcg3DsVLLVl5Qzb1oEnaZ9vr-dKfCMDkEk3uHcC6BSWiZbQRQe=s0-d)
BLURB:
Astrid escapes the planet where her tribeswomen have been exiled, determined to find Prince Jorunn and force him to fufill an ancient prophecy--the one that fortells of their marriage and the savior of Astrid's people. She's going to kidnap the man and handfast with him, no matter what he has to say about it, and no matter how much she longs for love and a true marriage of the heart.
The last thing she expects is that she'll find the man of her dreams while seducing the enemy.
EXCERPT:
He could have her, right here in the bar, if he so desired. Here in the shadows, a man could get his cock serviced, by mouth or cunt, any time of day or night as long as he and his juicy girl kept the noise at a respectable level. Not many bar patrons had the cash to rent a room, but the owners of these places knew that women were as good a lure as any when it came to drawing in customers. They and the other patrons would turn a blind eye, and he could be buried balls-deep in her sweet little pussy in less than ten seconds.
And her pussy would be sweet, he had no doubt about that.
“I’m not buying tonight. You’re wasting your time,” he said, turning his eyes to scan the bar. If he kept looking into those liquid blue-gray eyes, he wouldn’t be able to resist temptation much longer.
“I don’t understand. I have nothing for sale,” she said, her tone frustrated as well as…something else. Desperate? Why would such a woman be so anxious to score a client?
She was beautiful, stunning enough to engage dozens of men a night. In fact, she was almost too beautiful. Even if she came from one of the less socially desirable tribes, this one should have been able to find a man to handfast with her. She should never have made it to such a low place, forced to earn her living by men’s use of her body.
“What’s your name?” Jorunn asked. There was something off here, something that alerted his fine-tuned survival instincts. The traces of moon dust left behind at the sword’s resting place had been a perfect match to Moon Three, but the way the dust had been so carelessly strewn about the crypt had made him wary from the start.
It was too easy, too sloppy for a criminal capable of slipping past his father’s guards and gaining entrance to the crypt in the first place.
“Astrid. My name is Astrid.”
“Astrid. A beautiful name, and a beautiful woman.” Jorunn spoke the words slowly as he scanned Astrid’s small frame. The blue fabric wasn’t cloth at all, but some sort of animal scales, not anything like the women’s clothing he’d seen for sale in the system’s many shopping satellites.
She was most likely a citizen of one of the more rural planets where they still made their own coverings, which only increased his suspicion. Women from the outer reaches rarely made it to the Endelvean regions. Their men were fiercely territorial and prostitution was illegal on all of those planets. No woman was allowed to go unmated, no matter what her social status, especially not one as stunning and fertile-looking as this one.
“And what is your name?” she asked, a frown twitching at her lips even as her cheeks blushed bright red.
“You don’t enjoy having your beauty praised?” he asked, ignoring her question. She had to know who he was. His father had distributed the announcements of his impending coronation over every settlement in the realm. They might not have holographic posting boards where she was from, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had demanded his image plastered on the milking towers and grain-storing sheds.
“Beauty is passing, strength is what matters.” She stepped closer, not showing any response to the stink that surrounded him.
“I’ve never underestimated the strength of the female of the species,” he said, as he casually gave the three-fingered signal that would tell a true juicy girl that he was ready to engage her services. If she didn’t respond, he’d know that his suspicions were founded, if she did…well, then he supposed he’d have to follow through and fuck her.
“Wonderful. Then would you like to come with me to my ship?”
“To your ship? You prefer I take you there? I won’t pay a bed rental fee,” Jorunn warned. Her response seemed to indicate that she was ready to accept his signal, but he’d never heard of a prostitute who owned her own ship. Perhaps he should take things a little further with Astrid, simply to make sure they understood one another. “In fact, I’m not sure I want you lying down.”
Her eyes grew wide as he looped one arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, spinning them until her back pressed against the wall. “What if I prefer to stay in the bar?”
“Well, I…wouldn’t…” Her words trailed off into silence as he ran one hand casually along the delicate column of her neck, and down to where her dress dipped low between her breasts. He traced the line of her garment, teasing over each full swell, until her breath came faster and her eyes fluttered closed. Only then did he tug at the fabric, causing her breasts to spill out the top.
She gasped and her eyes flew open. “Wait, I—”
“You would rather end the engagement now?” Jorunn tried to fix his attention on reading her expression, but it was impossible to keep his eyes above her neck. Her breasts were exquisite, two ripe mounds topped by dusky nipples that practically begged to be suckled into his mouth. His mouth watered at the thought and his cock responded in kind, beginning to leak with excitement.
“No,” she whispered, her nipples tightening under his gaze
Gods, he wanted to bed this woman, and he wanted to do it properly, not here with a hundred eyes on them. And eyes were on them. Half the bar had grown silent as men became aware of the show taking place against the far wall. This wasn’t what he’d intended. He’d planned to lay low, to do his best not to attract attention. But now that he’d started with Astrid, he couldn’t seem to stop.
“So you’d let me touch you, take you, right here? If I chose?” He cupped one breast in his hand and ran a thumb over the erect tip. Astrid shivered, her eyes sliding closed as she nodded her head in affirmation.
“Yes?” he asked, moving both hands to her chest and rolling her tight nipples between his fingers. Her show of desire seemed utterly free of affectation. Either she was a consummate actress, or Astrid was truly aroused by what they were doing.
Maybe that’s why she’d become a juicy girl in the first place—maybe she actually enjoyed fucking strange men in public. There was one way to find out…
He dropped one hand and slid it up the inside of her thigh, nearly groaning as a trail of wet heat meet his fingers before he’d even reached her sex. She was drenched, sufficiently ready for him to turn her around, lift her dress, and ram into her sweet depths. Or perhaps, considering her height, it would work better between them if he hitched her up around his waist and fucked her against the wall.
Okay, maybe not life-changing, but...I think you'll enjoy it. This is excerpt 2 (in order of heat and story progression). For excerpt 1 hit my blog, and for excerpt 3, head over to the Nightwhispers blog.
Thanks for reading!! Hugs and happy Wednesday!
Anna J. Evans
Seducing the Enemy
By Anna J. Evans
Naughty Nuptials Quickie
Available May 23 2007
Ellora's Cave
Link: http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=AJE
BLURB:
Astrid escapes the planet where her tribeswomen have been exiled, determined to find Prince Jorunn and force him to fufill an ancient prophecy--the one that fortells of their marriage and the savior of Astrid's people. She's going to kidnap the man and handfast with him, no matter what he has to say about it, and no matter how much she longs for love and a true marriage of the heart.
The last thing she expects is that she'll find the man of her dreams while seducing the enemy.
EXCERPT:
He could have her, right here in the bar, if he so desired. Here in the shadows, a man could get his cock serviced, by mouth or cunt, any time of day or night as long as he and his juicy girl kept the noise at a respectable level. Not many bar patrons had the cash to rent a room, but the owners of these places knew that women were as good a lure as any when it came to drawing in customers. They and the other patrons would turn a blind eye, and he could be buried balls-deep in her sweet little pussy in less than ten seconds.
And her pussy would be sweet, he had no doubt about that.
“I’m not buying tonight. You’re wasting your time,” he said, turning his eyes to scan the bar. If he kept looking into those liquid blue-gray eyes, he wouldn’t be able to resist temptation much longer.
“I don’t understand. I have nothing for sale,” she said, her tone frustrated as well as…something else. Desperate? Why would such a woman be so anxious to score a client?
She was beautiful, stunning enough to engage dozens of men a night. In fact, she was almost too beautiful. Even if she came from one of the less socially desirable tribes, this one should have been able to find a man to handfast with her. She should never have made it to such a low place, forced to earn her living by men’s use of her body.
“What’s your name?” Jorunn asked. There was something off here, something that alerted his fine-tuned survival instincts. The traces of moon dust left behind at the sword’s resting place had been a perfect match to Moon Three, but the way the dust had been so carelessly strewn about the crypt had made him wary from the start.
It was too easy, too sloppy for a criminal capable of slipping past his father’s guards and gaining entrance to the crypt in the first place.
“Astrid. My name is Astrid.”
“Astrid. A beautiful name, and a beautiful woman.” Jorunn spoke the words slowly as he scanned Astrid’s small frame. The blue fabric wasn’t cloth at all, but some sort of animal scales, not anything like the women’s clothing he’d seen for sale in the system’s many shopping satellites.
She was most likely a citizen of one of the more rural planets where they still made their own coverings, which only increased his suspicion. Women from the outer reaches rarely made it to the Endelvean regions. Their men were fiercely territorial and prostitution was illegal on all of those planets. No woman was allowed to go unmated, no matter what her social status, especially not one as stunning and fertile-looking as this one.
“And what is your name?” she asked, a frown twitching at her lips even as her cheeks blushed bright red.
“You don’t enjoy having your beauty praised?” he asked, ignoring her question. She had to know who he was. His father had distributed the announcements of his impending coronation over every settlement in the realm. They might not have holographic posting boards where she was from, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had demanded his image plastered on the milking towers and grain-storing sheds.
“Beauty is passing, strength is what matters.” She stepped closer, not showing any response to the stink that surrounded him.
“I’ve never underestimated the strength of the female of the species,” he said, as he casually gave the three-fingered signal that would tell a true juicy girl that he was ready to engage her services. If she didn’t respond, he’d know that his suspicions were founded, if she did…well, then he supposed he’d have to follow through and fuck her.
“Wonderful. Then would you like to come with me to my ship?”
“To your ship? You prefer I take you there? I won’t pay a bed rental fee,” Jorunn warned. Her response seemed to indicate that she was ready to accept his signal, but he’d never heard of a prostitute who owned her own ship. Perhaps he should take things a little further with Astrid, simply to make sure they understood one another. “In fact, I’m not sure I want you lying down.”
Her eyes grew wide as he looped one arm around her waist and pulled her toward him, spinning them until her back pressed against the wall. “What if I prefer to stay in the bar?”
“Well, I…wouldn’t…” Her words trailed off into silence as he ran one hand casually along the delicate column of her neck, and down to where her dress dipped low between her breasts. He traced the line of her garment, teasing over each full swell, until her breath came faster and her eyes fluttered closed. Only then did he tug at the fabric, causing her breasts to spill out the top.
She gasped and her eyes flew open. “Wait, I—”
“You would rather end the engagement now?” Jorunn tried to fix his attention on reading her expression, but it was impossible to keep his eyes above her neck. Her breasts were exquisite, two ripe mounds topped by dusky nipples that practically begged to be suckled into his mouth. His mouth watered at the thought and his cock responded in kind, beginning to leak with excitement.
“No,” she whispered, her nipples tightening under his gaze
Gods, he wanted to bed this woman, and he wanted to do it properly, not here with a hundred eyes on them. And eyes were on them. Half the bar had grown silent as men became aware of the show taking place against the far wall. This wasn’t what he’d intended. He’d planned to lay low, to do his best not to attract attention. But now that he’d started with Astrid, he couldn’t seem to stop.
“So you’d let me touch you, take you, right here? If I chose?” He cupped one breast in his hand and ran a thumb over the erect tip. Astrid shivered, her eyes sliding closed as she nodded her head in affirmation.
“Yes?” he asked, moving both hands to her chest and rolling her tight nipples between his fingers. Her show of desire seemed utterly free of affectation. Either she was a consummate actress, or Astrid was truly aroused by what they were doing.
Maybe that’s why she’d become a juicy girl in the first place—maybe she actually enjoyed fucking strange men in public. There was one way to find out…
He dropped one hand and slid it up the inside of her thigh, nearly groaning as a trail of wet heat meet his fingers before he’d even reached her sex. She was drenched, sufficiently ready for him to turn her around, lift her dress, and ram into her sweet depths. Or perhaps, considering her height, it would work better between them if he hitched her up around his waist and fucked her against the wall.
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