Here’s an excerpt from a great new review for GONE WITH THE MONSTER

This is Lila Dubois’ third book in the Monsters in Hollywood series and this book was, by far, my favorite. Do not mistake Margo’s kindness for weakness. She will gladly deliver a beating to anyone who harms her family and friends. Runako has so much pain that still lingered in his mind and heart. If anyone could bring love back into his life and help him see humans in a new light, it was Margo. The characters’ chemistry ignites the pages. In addition, dashes of humor thrown in with a touch of action makes this a wonderful read. Gone with the Monster takes off at a gallop and there is no looking back. If you enjoyed the first two stories, you won’t be disappointed by the latest addition to the series.

Here is the cover for HIS WOLF HEART coming in January from AQP

Bondage Betrayal, my newest BDSM release from Liquid Silver Books, is now available. This book is SMOKING hot. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

This books also had a very interesting scene cut by the editor. She said it was “torture porn.” I will be making this scene available to my newsletter next week. Join the newsletter (link in sidebar) and get reading so you can read the deleted scene.

Five years ago a terrible betrayal tore Roman and Savannah apart. Roman’s burgeoning interest in the world of BDSM and his desire to master Savannah lead them deep into the heart of sexual fetish. A weekend away at the house of a high powered Dom was supposed to be the next step in their exploration of their Dominant/submissive relationship, but when their host convinces Roman to turn Savannah over to him for training, their love is stretched beyond the breaking point. Savannah, believing that Roman has given her away forever, flees, but not before suffering at the hands of the sadistic Dom. Roman knows nothing of what she’s suffered, and believes Savannah left him because of his desires.

When they meet again five years later will the lies that separate them keep them apart, or will remembered love be enough to bring them back together?

Contains: Bondage, Domination, Restrains, Spanking, Oral, Anal, Clamps

Hunting Passions, my first release from Amber Quill, is now available.

It is currently available as an ebook, but will be available mid-October in print, if you’re prefer print!

Long ago, the Lord of Eahrington gave sanctuary to two clans of shapeshifters: were-wolves and were-falcons. In payment for this protection, each clan sent one of their young to the Lord as tribute, a tradition that continued through the generations to this day. But William, the newest Lord of Eahrington, a modern man living a medieval life, distrusts shapeshifters, and as far as he’s concerned, his intended “Hunting Pair” are less than human. So when were-wolf Christoffer and were-falcon Mirela arrive at William’s home, he treats them like animals, locking them away. What William doesn’t expect, however, is his attraction to each of their human forms.

Yet William must learn to trust the falcon and wolf sides of Mirela and Christoffer before he can open his heart to their human halves. And with three hearts engaged, jealousies are soon at play, with one were-beast even willing to betray the other in a bid for William’s love. Destined to be together forever, the trio’s only hope at happiness is to learn to love one another. But can William overcome his prejudices and look upon Mirela and Christoffer as anything other than animals?

Keep reading for a delicious excerpt you won’t find anywhere else!

“You cannot run faster than I fly. You cannot weave through trees quick enough to protect your eyes from my claws. I am Kalo and you will respect me, you filthy, butt-licking dog.”

Her eyes sparkled, her chest rose and fell with each panting breath, and her face was tinged pink with anger. William again felt as though he were under her spell, drawn to her as a moth to the flame.

Christoffer turned back, his mocking façade slipping for a moment. His shoulders hunched forward, his knees bent, and his eyes narrowed. The laughter, the jokes, were gone and what remained was a predator. The girl’s fingers curled into claws and she met his stare.

Animals. They were animals.

It was time to assert himself. The girl’s beauty and Christoffer’s unconventional arrival had thrown him, but no more. He was William Fitzwilliam, Lord of Eahrington.

William grabbed Christoffer by the back of the neck and forced him down. Christoffer fell to his knees, his shoulders tense. He reached back to push William’s hands away, but William transferred his hold to Christoffer’s hair, forcing his head to bend and exposing his neck. Tension radiated off the boy, and William stepped closer, looming over him. He pushed away fear, knowing the wolf would be able to scent it.

You are mine. I am your Master, he chanted to himself, exuding dominant energy.

Christoffer relaxed, his body going limp and his head falling forward, further exposing his neck. William grinned in savage satisfaction. He turned his attention to the girl.

“You will not harm him,” William told her, his hand still fisted in Christoffer’s hair. “He is my property—as you are, and to harm him would be to disrespect me.”

The girl immediately nodded her understanding. She moved to William’s side and dropped to her knees, leaning into his leg.

William placed his free hand on her head. Her hair was wondrously soft.

William looked down at the creatures that knelt at his feet. Satisfaction like he’d never known swelled within him. He was powerful, strong. He was complete now.

The Hunting Pair had arrived.

Gone with the Monster is out, horray! (Boo to it having been available on Fictionwise for so long ahead of time.)

But, my next release, Bondage Betrayal, will be out soon!

The winner of CALLING THE WILD is Rhonda. The winner of MY FAIR MONSTER is Fedora!

Congrats!

I’ll be drawing for the grand prize tomorrow because I left the cup full of names at work. Doh!

_

Here it is, the final raffle! Fittingly, the last book to go is My Fair Monster, the second Monsters in Hollywood book, and the prequel to GONE WITH THE MONSTER (which releases tomorrow).

Excerpt:

The doorbell rang. Jane screamed.

Pressing her hand against her chest, Jane took a few deep breaths. This was going to be okay. She knew Michael, sure he was sexy, and maybe a bit pushy, but he wasn’t some sort of sex god. She could handle what was about to happen. He’d finger her a few times, she’d have a couple orgasms, and at the end of the week she’d face his monster form.

It really didn’t help that she was terrified of seeing him as a monster. It would have been much better if the week ended in something she was really looking forward to.

Jane smoothed her hooded sweatshirt, realized it was wrinkled and ugly beyond all hope, and gave up. She was wearing a battered USC football sweatshirt, pink and gray Eeyore pajama pants and footie socks, the kind with grip tape on the bottom.

Childish? Yes. Semi-pathetic? Absolutely. But this hideous ensemble was the closest thing to a chastity belt Jane could come up with. Besides, it was comfortable.

Brushing aside her bangs, Jane opened the door.

Michael, tan, blond and gorgeous in gray slacks and a white linen shirt, stood outside her door, a duffle slung over his shoulder.

He looked her up and down, and then burst out laughing.

“Knock it off,” Jane said lightly, the corner of her mouth twitching as his booming laugh filled the hallway. Michael looked at her again, leaned against the wall and kept laughing.

Jane stuck her hands in the kangaroo pocket on the front of her sweatshirt and humphed. “Laugh it up, buddy.”

“You are,” he gasped, sputtered a laugh and choked out, “adorable.”

He walked in, cupped her face and kissed her. It was a soft hello kiss, and Jane licked her lips when it ended, wanting another but afraid to say so. The last thing she wanted was to push them into having not-sex before she was ready.

“You can put your bag in…uh…my bedroom.”

She led Michael through the living room to the bedroom. He set his bag down by the door and looked around.

“This is not what I expected,” he said after a minute.

“What did you expect?”

“Something more…girlie.”

Jane looked at her room with a critical eye. It was girlie, but not in a pink ruffles way. The walls were a deep taupe that set off everything else in the room. Her mahogany sleigh bed was covered in a pale gold comforter and accented with cobalt, emerald and ruby pillows, purchased on a trip to India. She had a gold-tone rug laid out beside the bed, and a dark wood buffet acting as a display space and dresser, with her books hidden in the drawers.

“I got the pillows on a trip to India, they were the inspiration for the room. It can be a bit overpowering, that’s why I don’t have too much furniture in here. Then again that makes the living room a bit cluttered, but what can you do? It’s not the world’s biggest apartment, but I got it right when we’d started Calypso Productions and none of us had any money. I could move to a nicer place, but I hate moving. So I decided—”

Jane could hear herself babbling, and would have given considerable amounts of money to stop, but she couldn’t help it. She was nervous, and Michael’s presence in her bedroom was making her more nervous. He’d been in her apartment before, when he’d come to protect her, but her bedroom had been strictly off-limits.

Michael ended her wandering monologue by picking her up and throwing her, actually throwing her, onto the bed. Jane made a sound best approximated as eep as she landed, pillows bouncing around her.

Michael leaned against the footboard.

“Can I ask what that was for?” Jane said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes.

“I just wanted to get an idea of how you’d look on that bed.”

Jane leapt off the bed and tugged at her sweatshirt, a blush heating her face. “Let’s go in the other room.”

She led Michael into the living room, where she curled up on the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees. The open bedroom door taunted her, reminding her of what was going to happen.

“You’re nervous, why?” Michael asked, sitting and stretching his arms along the back of the couch so he could toy with her hair.

“Sex is something to be nervous about.”

“But we’re not having sex, remember?”

“Yes, well, I uh, hadn’t really through this all the way through when I agreed. Is there any chance you want to renegotiate the deal?”

She looked at him hopefully, but Michael’s smile was not encouraging. “Sounds like Lena talked to you.”

“How did you know?”

“I was with Luke when she called to talk to him about it. Sounds like Lena may have gotten you a little wound up about this.”

“I just… I mean, I didn’t think it was really going to be a big deal.”

“Didn’t you just say sex was something to be nervous about?”

“It is, but sex isn’t…earth-shattering, it doesn’t change you.”

“If you believe that, you’ve never had really good sex before.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

As an authorised intruder to this blog (known to some as Farm Boy), it is my pleasure to announce that Ashley is the winner for Day 4, while Day 5’s winner is Gloria!

Congratulations to you both.

Today’s Raffle prize is one of my favorites. Calling the Wild is a contemporary story with a centaur hero and a witch heroine. If you’re an Urban Fantasy or Paranormal Romance reader this is the book for you.

Below is an excerpt:

Moira crawled to him and grabbed a wrist in each of her hands. She forced his hands close to one another, laying them on his thighs so that they were a few inches from each other, palms facing in. She set her hands along the outsides of his.

“Swear that you will not use my blood to harm me.”

“I swear it.” The space between his palms glowed blue.

“Swear that by neither word no action you will let another being, human or other, know that you have taken my blood.”

“I swear it.” Again blue light flashed between their hands.

“Swear that as a vessel for my blood you will do to me no harm, and do all in your power to aid me.”

“I…swear.” This was the brightest flash of all.

Moira smiled and pulled away, the last was not a pledge that they had agreed upon, but he was too power drunk to fight it. Sharing of blood and power was a huge risk, but she’d turned it to her advantage. Drak was well informed and well connected, a good ally.

“Thanks.” Moira slipped her fingers into the rip in his shirt and gave his nipple ring a friendly flick. “I’ll be in touch.”

When she pulled her hands away, his eyes slid closed, head tipping to the side. He was out, as drunk on power as he would have been on a bottle of 151.

The other people in the room were looking their way, and from the startled looks she could tell that they had seen the flares of magic. For some, her brief flares of magic were their first confrontation of the reality of the magical world they craved.

Others looked at her with hunger in their eyes. They knew what else was out there, and knew she was real magic, an object of great desire.

Several men and one woman rose, their eyes on her breast. Looking down Moira saw that the cut still seeped blood, the area around it, where he’d sucked on her, already bruising. She was going to have the mother of all hickies in an hour. Snatching up the razor blade from where it had fallen on the couch she licked it clean, tasting the metal of the blade and the copper of her blood.

Once she was sure that there was nothing left that could be used against her, Moira stood, just as the first man stepped up behind her and made a very disgusting proposition.

“And why exactly would I want to do that? Play with the blonde. There is nothing else I want here.”

“Let me change your mind. My tongue is much more skilled than Drak’s.”

“I’m leaving, and no one in this room is going to follow me.” She raised her voice so that the others who had come to her could hear her pronouncement. There were several mutinous expressions, but Moira stared them down. A display of magic, though normally intimidating for those who had none, might have excited these people.

When she pushed forward they let her pass, and pink bob, who still stood guard by the doorway, didn’t meet her eyes.

Once outside of the little room, and away from the prying eyes and oppressive atmosphere, Moira picked up the pace, threading her way through the press of bodies. She found herself on one side of the dance floor, the exit on the other. The walls were crowded with bodies, people pushed back against the walls in groping, kissing, groups of twos or threes.

Moira opted for the most direct path, straight across the dance floor. She started into the fray, dodging undulating bodies and thrashing arms. A girl dressed like Morticia Adams grabbed her ass, and Moira stomped on her foot. Goth boots trumped black ballet slippers every time. Taking perverse satisfaction in the girl’s howl, Moira started forward again.

The song changed, and the lights mounted on the DJ booth changed with it. Wild pulsing and strobe lights blinded her, the other bodies now hulking shapes in the lightning flashes. Hands reached for her from the swirling dark.

Moira held out her own hands, but met only air. A warm body molded to her back, hands tight against her hips to keep her still. The hips against her ass began to rock, moving their bodies in time with the slow pulsing beat of the music. Moira latched onto the hands at her hips, trying to pry them away. Her efforts were half-hearted at best, for she was seduced by the hot press of body at her back and the way the fingers rhythmically kneaded her hips.

Hands slid to her waist and spun her, their groins now pressed together. Moira looked up into the face of her dance partner, the flashing lights leaving her with an impression of a strong jaw. He was tall and well muscled, the other end of the spectrum from the skinny Drak. His hair was straight and pulled into spikes that wrapped down the side of his face. Dark eyes, lined in black, met hers.

She recognized those eyes.

Planting her hands on his chest, Moira pushed back, though she only got arm’s distance away as he refused to release her waist.

He wore black pants that laced up the side and a black poet’s shirt complete with a necktie and ruff. He looked like a goth pirate, a dark poet. Moira reached up and cupped the strong jaw, brushing the spikes of hair out of the way to examine his face.

Around them the dancers raged like a violent sea, until time seemed to slow. His eyes were black, no white surrounding the iris.

Moira raised her other hand, cupping both sides of his face, and kissed him.

It was chaste, with no rough mingling of tongues or nipping teeth. For a long moment their lips fused, souls meeting, as magic swelled in a halo around their joined bodies. His magic wrapped over both of them, and for the first time in more months that she could count Moira felt safe. He smelled like woods and ocean, loam and salt. He tasted like leaves and sunlight.

Someone, oblivious to the power around them, bumped into Moira, breaking the kiss. Her hands slid to his shoulders, and she came down on her heels.

“How?” she asked,

“I have many magics you know nothing of.”

It sounded like her centaur and the face and eyes were his, but her enemies were wise and skilled. Grabbing the ruffled sleeve of his shirt Moira flipped it back, exposing the metal cuff her spell had placed on him.

“Satisfied?” he asked, deducing what she was checking for.

“No,” she said, looking up at him from under her lashes, “but I won’t start something here, in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Then we should dance.”

He slid his hands down to her ass and pressed her groin to his. He lowered his head as if to repeat the kiss, and she turned away, but this exposed her sensitive neck to his lips, teeth and tongue. Teeth nipped at the tendon that stretched from her shoulder to neck, then his tongue laved the sensitive spot behind her ear.

Moira dug her nails into his back, riding the desperate arousal his touch and magic raised in her. From his first touch when they had stood at the truck to his brief caress in the warehouse, his touch, and the want for more of it, had been a thrumming need within her.

Moira slid her leg up the outside of his hip, wrapping it around the small of his back, trusting her weight to his arms. He used her movement to press their bodies closer together, his hips wedged against her, rocking to the beat of the music.

If she’d harbored any doubt about the attraction being mutual, the feeling of him between her legs dispelled it. He was as aroused as she, tormenting them both by moving in time with the music, thrusting against her in a sweet parody of sex.

Moira dropped her head back, feeling the halo of magic move with her. When she breathed in the air smelled of oak and brine, tasted like storm clouds. There were sparks of white magic flashing in the air around them, lost in the strobe lights for those who did not know to look for them.

“I don’t even know your name.”

It was a strange time to say such a thing, as he pantomimed fucking her in the middle of a dance floor, but with her body dangerously close to orgasm that seemed to be her greatest concern.

The centaur levered her up, bringing them face-to-face.

“Names,” he licked her lower lip, “are power.”

“I can taste you, salt and earth on my tongue, but you will not tell me your name?”

He wrapped his hands over her ass and lifted. Moira put the leg not already around him over his back and hooked her feet together. He moved, and a moment later the wall pressed against her back.

He took her hands and placed them above her head on the wall, pinning her like a captured butterfly. The warm iron of his body between her legs, pressing hard against her, was terrifying and pleasurable at the same time. When her eyes fluttered closed, he nipped her jaw.

“No, look at me.”