This is my favorite month – my favorite time of the year and Halloween is my favorite holiday. Orange is my favorite color – well burnt orange (HOOKEMHORNS!) and I love black cats. I ghost hunt for a hobby and my hometown is spooky, mysterious, laid-back New Orleans. No wonder I’m happy!
I’m celebrating the release of my paranormal erotic romance – A Wishing Moon by Secret Cravings Publishing. It is not a vampire or a shifter book – its about a family of powerful New Orleans women who practice their version of witchcraft – hoodoo. This has shades of A Skeleton Key – but not really. This is a love story.
Here’s the blurb
Arabella Landry is a witch on a misson. She is desperately seeking the incredible lover that has been setting her dreams on fire. With the help of the powerful women in her family, she finds him. Unfortunately, he is completely paralyzed from a devastating rock-climbing accident. Jade Landale, a conservative Texas Congressman falls head over heels for the beautiful woman that refuses to give up on him. Soon, his world turns topsy turvy as he finds himself embroiled in a world of magic, murder and the hottest, sweetest love-making imaginable.
and an excerpt –
Just the tip of his tongue parted her lips, feathery light, making her push closer, seeking to deepen the kiss. God, she wanted him. Breathing in his scent, she noticed he smelled of warm sunshine and salt spray. The palms of her hands moved feverishly over his golden skin, up over his broad shoulders and around his strong neck. His hair was long, the color of sunflower honey and she couldn’t resist winding her fingers in the strands at the back of his head, pulling him nearer to her. She fought the urge to wrap one leg around his hip in a soundless plea to be filled. A desperate hunger in her pussy made her tingle and ache.
Joy coursed through her bloodstream as he cupped her hips in his hands, first pulling her up hard against him, and then picking her up off the ground. Gratefully, she parted her legs and encircled his waist, pressing her soft center up against his rough jeans. Racing uncontrollably, her heart felt as if it were going to burst through her chest. His lips caressed her mouth, and wandered across her jaw and down the side of her neck. She gasped with passion, never had she felt so molten and eager. Arching her back, she met his gaze. Eyes, the color of a tiger’s eye jewel, framed with thick dark lashes feasted on her face. “Who are you?” she gasped.
Instead of the answer she longed for, he bent low and warmly nuzzled the top of her breasts with his lips. The gentle swell peeked from the top of the silk nightgown clinging damply to her fevered body. Muscles in her thighs contracted and she longed to thrust her hips against him.
Delightful stubble on his chin chafed her skin and Arabella reveled in the slight pain the friction generated. “Please…” she breathed. Allowing one hand to support her weight, he slid the other hand between their bodies and gently palmed the silk and lace providing a filmy barrier to paradise. When she offered no resistance, he pressed on, pushing the delicate material aside, slipping his strong fingers deep within her slit. Over and over again he massaged her clit, making her moan with desire. Unable to resist, she nipped the hard muscle of his shoulder, grazing the supple flesh with her teeth.
Light and heat exploded within her and she threw back her head crying out, as she convulsed in ecstasy. He pressed gentle lips to her ear and whispered, “Come to me.” The last thing she saw before reality dimmed was a full wishing moon shining bright in the velvet sky.
Arabella lifted her hips off the bed, searching in vain for someone who wasn’t there. Quaking with desire, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to breathe. Lying still, she listened to the lonely sounds of silence. The house was quiet. She was all alone, as usual. How wonderful it would be to have someone in her life like that incredible man. She lay there for a moment and relished the sensations she had enjoyed in his arms. Never had she experienced a dream so intense, yet the climax still vibrating between her legs was definitely real.
Searching her memory, she relived the dream. Who was he? He seemed so familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where she would have known him from. Maybe the sense of recognition was just an after-effect of the incredibly erotic dream. A face and a body like his would have been impossible to forget. Hugging herself tightly, she fought to hold on to the memory of his touch. When she had awakened from the dream, finding herself alone had been sheer torture. Every fiber in her being longed for him, making her want to reach out and take him in her arms once again. Only, he wasn’t here.
How frustrating. Perhaps the time had come to find a real lover.
She flung the sheet off her body and sat up on the side of the bed. Slowly she stood, and steadied herself enough to walk to the bathroom. Pulling the silk gown over her head, she turned on the shower and faced herself in the vanity mirror. Lifting her long hair from her neck, she twisted the dark strands into a knot and secured the heavy weight with a clip. Leaning closer to the mirror, she gasped. Flipping on the brighter overhead light, she could not believe her eyes or her fingers. Dream or no dream, her neck and upper chest was covered with a faint red rash; a rash left behind by her dream lover’s five o’ clock shadow.
The abrasions on her soft skin seemed to be evidence that more had happened in the twilight hours than just a dream. This intrigued her. How could this be possible? Could he be a real person? Could she return to his arms? The possibilities racing through her mind would have been unusual for most people. However, Arabella Landry was definitely not your typical twenty-four year old woman.
Arabella looked at life through different eyes. For her, the world was a magical place, where probability and certainty could be manipulated by sheer will, and forces existing beyond the bounds of imagination could be tapped into and used to create reality. She had been brought up accepting magick as a way of life.
When she viewed last night’s dream through the lens of magick, a whole new world of possibilities opened up. Something deep within her seemed to be convinced the Adonis with the incredible body actually lived and breathed. Arabella wanted to believe he was a flesh and blood man more than anything.
He had to be real. The words he had whispered were burned in her memory. “Come to me,’ he had said, and she intended to do exactly that…just as soon as she figured out how. She made her shower quick, and after towel drying her body, she slipped on jeans and a soft cotton top.
From the mirror, she could see the reflection of her bed. Nothing would have made her happier than to crawl back between its soft, welcoming sheets and dream. She wanted to see him again. Closing her eyes, Arabella remembered nestling against that incredible chest and clutching those shoulders, which were as broad as a bus. And his face! He had the face of an angel. Undeniably, her dream lover had to be the most powerfully built man she could ever remember seeing, touching, or kissing.
Arabella didn’t have a lot of experience with men. Opening up to people had always been difficult for her. So often when she tried, she’d been slapped down for her trouble. So far, she hadn’t been lucky enough to find a man who could accept her different lifestyle. How incredible it had been to see no judgment in his eyes, only acceptance and desire.
She wanted to hold on to every detail of last night’s dream. The desperation to do something to connect with the sexy phantasm bedeviled her until she realized she needed to make a sketch of him before a single detail of his beautiful face faded from her memory. She sped down the stairs and found her sketchbook. Flipping on the coffee pot, she hopped up on a bar stool and began to draw…him. High cheekbones, chiseled features, soft hair, well-defined abs and steel-strong legs all added up to much more than a sum of his parts. The smoldering look she added to his face came straight from her mind’s eye. Arabella ran her fingers over the drawing, remembering how caressing his skin felt. Propping the sketchpad up on the bar, she poured herself a cup of strong, fragrant coffee. Adding sugar and cream, she stirred the mixture and licked the spoon, all the while studying the portrait she had quickly drawn. He still looked vaguely familiar.
A sense of urgency washed over her. How could she just go about the tasks of the day after last night’s experience? How could she think of anything else but him?
* * * *
Jade Landale was a prisoner in his own body. Just a few weeks ago, he had been vibrant, alive and free. Now, he might as well be dead—in fact, he fantasized about escaping this nightmare. Paralyzed from his neck down, he couldn’t even swallow on his own. Communication proved to be impossible. Reese had tried, he had continued to ask him questions and instructed him to blink if he understood, but the doctors were not the least bit encouraging. They kept using the term catastrophic injury. Apparently, this time he had really screwed up. Kate had been after him to give up the extreme sports he loved so well, she said his career needed to come first. But he loved the feeling of scaling a sheer rock wall or free diving in the depths of the sea. She told him he would end up killing himself, and, apparently, she’d been right.
Since the diagnosis, Kate had only been in to see him twice and the last time she made an appearance, Jade could tell she’d given up on him. She couldn’t even bring herself to touch his hand. His girlfriend had always been overly squeamish. Apparently, she didn’t have the stomach for a fiancé who might never be more than a vegetable. Despite what Reese told her about the blinking, Kate didn’t believe he could hear her or understand her. Frankly, he wished he had the opportunity to tell her how hard conveying a message to someone who wouldn’t look you in the eye could be. Dr. Reynolds did not want to give up on him; he had said more tests needed to be done before they could be positive of Jade’s prognosis. One of the other doctors assisting on his case said he wasn’t sure Jade was cognizant of his surroundings at all. But he was, much to his dismay—he was, achingly, aware of everything.
The realization of his situation terrified Jade. He screamed endlessly in his head. Over and over, he relived the moment when the bolt failed and he had fallen from one of the sheer faces of E-Rock. He’d known from the moment he landed so brutally and awkwardly at the base of the cliff that his situation was bad. Blessedly, he had only remained conscious for a few moments before passing out. From the moment he regained consciousness, he had known something was horribly wrong, because he felt nothing—absolutely nothing.
The only relief Jade found were his dreams. When he closed his eyes and slept, he could walk and talk and hope and believe that somehow this nightmare would soon be over. Reese and other members of his staff still refused to believe fate could be so cruel. After all, they had pinned their hopes on him being the next governor of the great state of Texas. Now unless a miracle came along, all of his dreams had come to an end.
While a nurse turned him from side to side, giving him a sponge bath, he escaped to a better place deep within his own mind. Last night, he had experienced a particularly intense and strange dream. He had been back on Enchanted Rock—not climbing this time, but with a woman—an amazingly beautiful woman. His dream body had reacted instantly to her, and without the expectations of reality, he had enjoyed her in ways he knew he would probably never enjoy a woman again. She had been so lovely and so very responsive.
Dreams were his only solace, now. He much preferred an alternate reality to this one. The land where he escaped to when he closed his eyes reminded him of something his great grandmother used to tell him. The only daughter of a Cherokee medicine man, she carried with her the old ways and the old beliefs. She used to tell him that even though her body had grown stiff and uncooperative with age, at night—in her dreams—she went to places she could no longer go and did things she was no longer capable of doing. She had called the odd phenomenon ‘walking on the wind’. Maybe, that’s what he had been doing. One thing he knew, his dreams sure beat the hell out of where he was now. He shut his eyes and left the room.
Thanks for reading