Monday, March 26, 2012

"Chasing Earth and Flame" will soon be here!

We're only a week away from the April 2nd release of our third novel, Chasing Earth and Flamefrom Evernight Publishing! To get everyone in the mood, we'd like to share with you an excerpt from this story so hot you'll need to wear fireproof gloves just to hold your e-reader!

Check it out...

Nevia Akara Judal is the daughter of the First House of Nirrion, but though she is both a powerful elemental mage and a cunning political mind, she is her father's property. She is promised to Melenius, the only other noble elementalist in the city, but she is not certain she approves of her father's choice. She has a stronger will than anyone has ever given her credit for, and she is determined to find and keep the love of the only man who can conquer her heart of earth and flame.

Melenius caught Nevia by the arm and pulled her into a curtained alcove.

“We will be seen,” Nevia whispered.

Melenius shook his head. Cena was due to begin in a few minutes, so he had to work quickly.

“This won’t take long.” He produced the anal plug he had shown her on their honeymoon.

It was Nevia’s turn to shake her head.

“Yes,” Melenius said. He pulled out a vial of scented oil from his small shoulder bag. Nevia’s frosty eyes widened, and he smiled in his airs at her coyness. He poured the oil over the plug, then rubbed it around the head and down its length. “Turn around.”

Nevia did so, but she kept her eyes on her husband. Melenius had never seen anything sexier than his beautiful wife looking over her shoulder with fear and anticipation trembling in her elements as he hitched up her dress. Her fine, white ass was just what he wanted, and his cock hardened. He considered taking her right there, but the sound of music coming from the atrium made him think better of it. The entertainment had arrived. Dinner was imminent, and they would be missed if they were not punctual.

Melenius dabbed a bit of oil on the rosebud of Nevia’s anus and rubbed it around with his thumb. Nevia moaned.

“Quiet!” Melenius’s tone was half serious, half mirthful.

He pressed the tip of the lubricated plug against her ass and slowly applied pressure. He did not at once break her wall, and he was surprised at her body’s unwillingness to allow entry. With a stronger but still gentle push, he felt the pop as the plug slipped into her back passage.

Nevia’s knees buckled, but she did not collapse. The temperature in the alcove plummeted, and though Melenius knew her fires were stoked, she fixed him with an icy glare.

Nevia stood and let her skirts fall back into place. “You dare toy with the ass of an Akara?” She raised her hand to slap Melenius, but he caught her by the wrist.

Melenius lightly bit that wrist as he tweaked her nipple with his other hand. “Now, go be a good girl, and eat your supper.” He opened the curtain and slapped her ass on the way out.

Nevia continued to murder him with her eyes, but her elements betrayed her increasing desire. He sensed her laughter on his winds.

Cena was an elaborate affair, much more so than Melenius would have expected for just a one-night stay in a provincial town. As exotic, half-naked slaves from far-away lands juggled fire sticks before them all, Melenius turned to Judal the Younger.

“I wonder, why all this?” he asked. He popped a fresh, green olive in his mouth.

Nevius, reclined on one elbow, sipped his mulled wine and answered without taking his eyes from the entertainment. “We are returning from a great victory. Though Belamal presses forward, there will be glory for us upon our return to Nirrion. Why not celebrate a little? This is my father’s villa, after all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Enjoy yourself, Firin,” Nevius said. “You and my sister are saviors of the republic.” Nevia’s couch was situated close to his so that their heads would be near each other for conversation. He leaned over and kissed her brow.

Melenius, on the other side of the low table laden with rich food, watched this sibling exchange, knowing that her ass was plugged, that her cunt was probably wet as spring rains.

Nevia betrayed nothing; she could not to her brother, anyway, but neither did her elements. She was cool, collected, and calm. Melenius nodded in her direction, raised his cup in a silent toast to her, and drank its contents. A slave refilled his cup at once. Nevia, playing at human expressions, narrowed her eyes at him. Melenius almost choked on his next drink.

Radish salads and oysters gave way to hot-boiled goose and songbirds with asparagus. Between the appetizers and the main course, clowns had come to re-enact the battle of Vieta. The actor who pantomimed Belamal wore comical armor, and his gold-painted face twisted in all manner of melodramatic expressions.

Nevius ripped hot, juicy meat from the bone with his teeth. “Belamal Triumphant, to be sure.” His mouth was half-full of goose. “Too bad Garalach isn’t here. He could’ve made your job in Vieta easier.”

Melenius felt the instant drop in temperature, and the braziers that burned around them dimmed.

“More wood.” Nevius snapped his fingers at the nearest slave.

Nevia did not look at Melenius. Her eyes were fixed on the small plate she held on her lap. The name of Garalach clearly upset her, and Melenius wanted to go to her, to hold her and remind her of how he had been deceived. He had never stopped loving or wanting Nevia. It had not been his intention to betray her.

But Nevia would not return his glance.

The sun disappeared from the sky, and a cold wind blew through the peristyle and into the atrium.


Step into our fantasy world of Gilalion with our other novels, Worth His Freedom and Bride for the God-King. Let these books whet your appetite for more!

Monday, March 19, 2012

Living the Black Carnival

Review: Black Carnival
Author: Katherine Wyvern

“My dear, there is nothing, nothing, more sexy than this.” This line, in Chapter Two, says everything I want to say about this book, Black Carnival, which is Ms. Wyvern's debut novel. Welcome to Cydonia, a colonized planet far from the core worlds, and its major city, NeuVenedig, built in the style of old Venice. But if you think this is a science fiction story, think again! This is the story of Ivory Blake, a stifled artist who needed an exciting get-away, and that's just what she gets. In this first-person narrative, Ivory is hired for a job off-planet, a gig where her artistic skills can be put to good use beyond the sterile landscaping company she works for, and that's where the fun begins. Fun? Yes, fun – not only with hot, creative sex scenes but also with the way Ms. Wyvern uses words. If Ivory is an artist, then the author is her muse, inspiring her to paint vivid scenes in gripping exposition that leave the reader with no question about what her first dinner on the new planet tastes like, how classic paintings are altered into tasteful erotica, or what the colony of NeuVenedig looks, smells, and sounds like. Ms. Wyvern doesn't just write words; she paints with them. Ivory finds herself smack in the middle of the Black Carnival, an near-endless masque of night revels that continues until the sun comes up – which it doesn't for several weeks. There's one perk of this new planet: Ivory can enjoy herself to her heart's contentment. She may have been shy to start with, but she opens up to all the sexual possibilities that the Carnival and its merrymaking sex aficionados have to offer. And the reader is along for the ride – a wild, erotic ride without inhibitions and without shame. But the problem is that Ivory falls in love with Lune, and she realizes that it is not the pleasures of the Carnival, per se, that she wants but rather this handsome and exotic Sand-Rider. Lune is from an artificially-bred race, not quite human, and Ivory finds that she is not allowed to be with Lune outside of the Carnival. His breed is not allowed in the cities, and humans are not allowed out. Black Carnival is light on plot, but that's not a bad thing. Ms. Wyvern writes beautiful prose, descriptive set-pieces that show the reader the world and all that is in it – including the people and their amorous encounters. For people tired of reading the same banal dialogue and seeing the same stereotypical characters popping up again and again (like me!), Black Carnival is a refreshing change. I didn't just read this book; I lived every scene with Ivory. That's how good Ms. Wyvern's writing is! I highly recommend this book.

Adonis says:

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Annalynne Russo's "Rendezvous with Rumpelstiltskin"

Evernight Publishing has a new line of Naughty Fairy Tales series, and one of those gems is Rendezvous with Rumpelstiltskin, served up by Annalynne Russo!

Let's take a peek inside and see what this story's got to offer...

A smile spread across the imp’s face, revealing a row of crooked, coffee-stained teeth. He stepped toward her, then faltered as if worried she might retreat. “Dry your eyes, my sweet, and sit down at the wheel. Let my hands guide yours, and together, we will make magic.”

“Fine. I’m desperate,’ Katarina said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn my freedom. But what do you ask in return?”

The beast put a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temple. He tilted his head sideways and smiled at her. “Nothing. Other than the pleasure of your company,” he said. “A man like me doesn’t have many friends, let alone a beautiful woman to help pass the time.”

Katarina nodded in agreement and accepted his outstretched hand. As soon as their fingers touched, she felt an inconspicuous jolt of electricity ripple down the vertebrae in her back. Her eyes shot open in surprise. The imp drew back momentarily as if he endured a similar shock to his system. He motioned for her to take a seat, then moved to stand behind her. With her seated in the chair, they were almost the same height. He leaned into her. The warmth of his broad, muscular chest radiated through the translucent cotton shift she’d worn to bed. He flexed his fingers, using them to place Katarina’s delicate appendages along the spindles of the wheel. So close, his heated breath rolled across her skin, and sent shivers over the slender column of her neck in a series of tantalizing waves. The whisper-soft sensation caused goose bumps to form. Rather than pull away, Katarina let her body relax, enveloped in the beast’s feverish embrace.

He extended his arm, grabbed hold of the wheel, and spun it. Its clickety-clack sound reverberated around the room as it completed its first revolution. “Shut your eyes. Surrender all your inhibitions, and visualize what you want.”

Katarina groaned. She took a deep breath and laid her head against his well-defined bicep. What she wanted to do was lose herself in his comforting touch. Forget about the straw that blanketed the frigid concrete floor. Wipe away the memories of Aleksander’s brutality. Soon, the muscles in her back and shoulders relinquished their unwavering grip. She turned her head and took in her companion’s unique, earthy scent. Pine and sandalwood permeated her senses.

“Keep your eyes closed. Otherwise, the full force of the magic won’t take affect.”

Katarina heeded his warning. She allowed his talented digits to do their intricate work. The thin reeds of straw slid through their entwined fingers. Up and down. Over and under. In and out. She felt the rigid fibers give way, transformed into the smooth, silky fabric that cascaded down to the floor and pooled at her feet.

“Tell me your name, little man. Who is this knight in shining armor that sweeps me off my feet and saves the day?” Katarina felt him tense at her back. He stopped moving altogether.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I cannot tell you.” He rubbed his palms down her arms as if to calm her rattled nerves. Or maybe his own.

“Please. Call me, Katarina.”

“Katarina, it may not seem possible, but I haven’t always been the repugnant barbarian that appears before you. Once, I was a handsome man from a prosperous family living in a nearby village. Unfortunately, I cannot jeopardize my identity. If my parents discovered me in this condition, it would be a terrible disgrace.”

Katarina sighed and settled back against his bulky frame, her vision still masked. The sinewy muscles in his arms wrapped around her again as he returned to his work. They labored late into the night. Her fatigued body ached something fierce. Several hours later, she heard a rooster cackle somewhere nearby. The man behind her lifted his head and released the wire spindles on the spinning wheel.

He turned his head and whispered soft words that tickled her ear. “Katarina. Open your eyes and behold our masterpiece.” Her eyelids slowly drifted up, and to her amazement, a luxurious golden-hued textile was laid out like an elaborate carpet draped over the frozen stone tundra.

“It’s magnificent!” Katarina turned and threw her arms around his neck. The warm, exhilarating feel of his hulking form pulled tight against her pliant curves. His brawny biceps dangled over her torso and clung to her narrow, spiraled hips. He shifted his weight, and she felt the unmistakable proof of his desire. Katarina’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She pivoted on the balls of her bare feet and pulled away. “I wish there was some way to repay you. There must be something with which I can tempt you.” Her humble servant winked and shot her a devilish grin. “Be careful what you wish for. I might return one day and demand you turn over your first-born child.” Katarina’s eyebrows popped up, uncertain of his sincerity, until his robust laughter resounded in her ear. Then his expression turned serious. “Don’t worry, princess. In my current state, I can hardly swat at a fly, let alone abduct a child.”

Find Annalynne on her blog and on Facebook.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Avril Ashton's "Far From the Usual"

Meet Avril Ashton, one of Evernight's sizzling authors. Avril is the author of Make Me Sweat, Dulce in the Man-Love Edition of Midnight Seductions, and her new release for March 15, Far From the Usual. She has dropped by Boundless as the Sea today to tell us a bit about herself and to give everyone a taste of her upcoming book!

So, what does Avril have to say about herself?

l always wanted to have a sexy bio, one to reflect who I am, but after drawing a blank, l could only come up with: I eat cake and I read books…ooh, and I write 'em too. No one liked it, and after massive peer-pressure and pouting, I managed something more…suitable?

A Caribbean transplant, I now live in Brooklyn, N.Y with a tolerant Spousal Equivalent. Together we raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). My earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing plot points of the Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys books with an equally book-minded mother. Always in love with the written word, I finally decided to write in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of my stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending. I remain a believer of love in all its forms!

So what about this new release, Far From the Usual?

He’s her ex’s brother, yet Arden Windham aches to be in Cam Mercer’s arms. The man is rude and obnoxious, his blue eyes cold and unfeeling, but he makes her body melt. Being with ex-con Cam is nowhere in her plans, not if she wants the affection she’s worked so hard to gain from her overbearing father. Still, Cam’s touch is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and Arden finds herself having to choose between her wants and her needs.

Cameron Mercer is his family’s black sheep, a man apart. For six months he has watched Arden waste her time with his twin and now that she’s free, he’s not waiting another minute. He’s on a campaign to get her off the tightrope she’s been walking. There’s a rebel behind that smooth fa├žade, and he’s on a mission to set Arden free. Too bad she insists on putting up a fight.

How about a taste of what we'll find inside?
She spent most of her morning over at Genevieve’s house, biting her tongue to keep from asking about Cam. The damned man was of no consequence to her, but she kept seeing his eyes in her mind. She blinked it away.

Any other man but him.

After business was done, everything confirmed for the dinner party the next day, Genevieve made them a quick brunch. Arden stomach grumbled at the smell of bacon and eggs sizzling and she mumbled a thank you before diving into all the greasy food. Normally she’d stay away from it, but she figured what the hell, she owed herself an indulgence and since sex seemed quite a ways off, this was the next best thing.

She’d just put her licked-clean plate in the kitchen when a vehicle pulled into the driveway. She lifted the curtain at the window over the sink and peered out.

“Ah, fuck me.”

Cam’s blue, dented pick-up truck sat behind her car. She watched as he exited the cab of the truck, a black t-shirt stretched taut over his wide shoulders and forearms, long legs covered in worn denims and black work boots.

He looked good. And she shouldn’t be noticing his ass, but damn. He glanced at her car, took two steps, then stopped.

Arden frowned. He looked at the house, jaw working, then back to her car. His lips moved and he trailed his hand covered in black fingerless gloves across the passenger side door almost reverently.

She felt that touch, a tangible caress on her skin. Her body flamed and Arden spun around from the window with a gasp. He’s a rude, crass man. But her body was warming to him and for him. No! She yelled at herself. He’s Clark’s brother.

And off limits.

Not that she wanted him.

“Arden, that should be Cameron,” Genevieve’s voice drifted to her from upstairs. “He’s here to fix the dishwasher. Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”

“Okay,” she called back as the front door open. Suddenly she wanted to run and hide, duck below the table even. Anything to get away from those ice blue eyes.

Instead she couldn’t move to save her life and she remained rooted to the spot at the sink, heart jumping to her throat when he made his appearance. She had to breathe through her mouth, fighting not to squirm as he undressed her with a glance, mouth twisted into a smirk.

His gaze stopped at her knees, exposed by the tight denim shorts she wore, and then climbed to her face slowly. Arden gulped. She didn’t know where to look, what to do with her hands. Hell, she’d forgotten her name.

The dislike from last night shone in his eyes, but so was the hunger. Potent and dark, she felt it wash over her skin and tried not to let her tremors show.

Not good. Not good.

She licked her lips and immediately regretted it when his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Good morning, Mr. Mercer.” There, no wobble. “Your mother will be down shortly.”

He held her gaze as he walked toward her. Slow and steady. Unlike her heartbeat that ratcheted higher and higher with each step. She backed up, hips pressed into the counter obstructing her escape.

She stood her ground on weak knees as he stopped in front of her. He placed both hands on the counter on either sides of her, caging her in as his scent—mild sweat and something spicy—teased her nose. She pursed her lips, locking in the whimper in her throat as her pussy flooded, soaking the crotch of her shorts.

He stared at her mouth and she remembered the brief brush of his mouth over hers the night before. The barest of touches and yet she still felt it.

“You should call me Cam,” he murmured against her ear. “Mr. Mercer would be a bit much to scream out when I’m buried deep inside you, don’t you think?”

A sound left her, a pleading whimper as her knees buckled. She threw out a hand and grabbed his arm for balance, staring at the contrast between her dark skin and his vibrant tattoos.

He had plans to fuck her and judging by the way her clit pulsed at his words, her body had no objections. But she did.

Arden swallowed and met his eyes, mentally stiffening her spine. Time to nip this shit in the bud. “You cannot have me, Mr. Mercer. Despite what you may think, I’m not a toy to be used up and thrown away. Keep your fantasies to yourself.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and she shifted away, but he grabbed her nape. She moaned at the sensation of his fingertips on her skin.

“Make no mistake, Princess, I’ll be fucking you.” He dragged his tongue over her cheek.

Arden shuddered and almost collapsed.

“And you’ll be begging me for more.”

Thanks, Avril, for stopping by!

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