Excerpts

#NewRelease: The Necromancer’s Heart, by Robin Harper @Suntail7 #LGBTQIA+ #fantasy #booklover #bookblogger

November 9, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

Title: The Necromancer’s Heart

Author: Robin Harper

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/16/2022

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 21300

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, fantasy, supernatural, gay, first love, HFN

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Description

Mortimer’s life is set in stone. That is until he takes the reins and rejects his crown and his namesake. Striking out on his own, he discovers a whole new world and a whole new him. But even with all of the newness, falling in love is still his greatest dream.

Then he meets Galen. He never planned on falling for a man who stands for everything he’s not. Now he just has to deal with the significance of his birthright.

Excerpt

The Necromancer’s Heart
Robin Harper © 2022
All Rights Reserved

I fell into a hole.

I know, stellar move there. I was such a graceful individual. So graceful that I’d not only fallen into a hole, but I managed to sprain my ankle. Hopefully. I couldn’t tell for sure, but based on how painful it was, and how I could literally put no weight on the joint, I was betting it was broken. Only a fool would fall into a hole and break his ankle and thus remove any hope he had of getting out of said hole.

“Help!? Anyone up there?” I called out again for what seemed like the hundredth time. The sun had gradually been crawling along the sky so I knew I had to have been here for some hours, thank the living dead that night hadn’t fallen yet.

Alas, with no sign of passers-by or any fellow travelers that might take a moment of their day to aid me, I might have to think about this pit with its dirt and worms as my bed for the night.

And hope no wolves come for a snack.

Perhaps I should have stayed home and done as I was told. Those fairy tale stories made running away from a great destiny seem simple, and easy. I guessed reality must ever grind down on the mortals of the world to remind them they are but prisoners to fate on its plane of existence.

“Please! Someone! Anyone–help!” I cried again, despair thick in my voice. No one would hear me; what was the point? I was about to slump back against the dirt walls of my pit when a shadow danced along the side–and did the wind rustle the grass? Or was that the stepping of light feet? I eagerly pressed myself up against the side of the hole where I saw the shadow milling about. “Hey! Hey down here! Please help me!”

My hopes were dashed when two furry ears and a face of white whiskers greeted me. The accompanying ‘Maow’ crushed my heart.

“Oh, hello, adorable.” The cat was striped, black and white contrasting in defined lines across its face. The white whiskers wiggled as it ‘maow’ed’ down at me again, and I smiled despite my despair.

Cats always had an affinity for death and those of us who worked with it.

“Hey, sweetie—do you have a master? Hm? Someone who can pull me out of this pit? Anyone nearby to hear your small meows?”

“Maow!” the critter called down while its striped tail swayed behind it.

I sighed, “No, I suppose you don’t…”

The cat gave a trill and wandered away. My shoulders slumped as I took in my earthy prison. I guess I’d better make myself comfortable for the night, and try to find a stick or something as a weapon… Maybe one of the tree roots was hard enough to use as a blunt force weapon…

While I was hopping over to the other side of my dirty sanctuary the cadence of someone yelling echoed down the pit. Faint—but most assuredly a human’s voice.

Oh, praise the Dead!

“Hello! Over here! Please help me!” I bellowed, attempting to make my voice go as far as possible.

“Blasted pet–what are you doing? Stop tripping me!” Did the cat find help? Was that something a cat could do?

Not possible. But despite possibilities and probabilities, a petite black and white striped head with whiskers and big fluffy ears popped up again and gave me a friendly “Maow,” while its tail swished. I smirked, awkwardly because now I heard heavier, human footsteps approaching. And while that should spell my freedom from this forsaken hole, it meant interacting with another person.

I wanted out of this pit, of course, but my social graces were rusty to say the least. The mere idea of speaking and interacting with another person was a daunting task now. Hopefully it was some old man who would offer me a ride in the back of his potato wagon so that we didn’t have to speak so much while he took me to the nearest town…

The figure that appeared beside the striped kitty was not that of an old man. Oh no, I would never be that lucky. No, my fate was cruel and instead of some crotchety old man with beady, pale grey eyes and scruff for hair, a pair of golden-brown eyes met mine, a solid frame, square jawline. Skin that had been kissed by a thousand suns, thick, dark hair…and a furrow formed between two fine eyebrows as he startled at seeing someone very much alive in this hole.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Robin Harper is a bisexual, polyamorous witch who lives with her husband and two sweet ginger cats in the cold northern state of Minnesota. She finds joy in creating stories about love, and healing, as well as weaving ghost tales and supernatural encounters. She is also an avid reader, an optician during the day, and a lover of coloring books.

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Excerpts

A Ghostly Encounter #MFRWSteam #EroticRomance #LGBTQ

November 8, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

Welcome to the MFRW Steam Hop,
where the authors of Marketing for Romance Writers
entice you with steamy excerpts from their erotic romance stories.

Scroll to the end for more of this week’s tempting excerpts

Today’s ghosts surfaced a little late for Halloween – but we’re only a week out from All Soul’s day, so no harm.

BLURB

One man, two women and two ghosts keep love’s fires burning through the deep chill of a North Woods winter—but which love will hold the key?

A tender ghost story and a sizzling erotic romance with a splash of BDSM, Mistress of Purgatory Point is also the deeply moving chronicle of the mid-life sexual awakening of a stoic widow who thought she’d already experienced her one allotted love.

Not quite fifty, recently widowed Martha Richards has just purchased the old sturdy house at the tip of Purgatory Point overlooking Minnesota’s Boundary Waters. She and her pastor husband often dreamed of retiring there on their summer canoe trips. Now, she welcomes the solitude and time to hone her jewelry-making craft.

Forest Ranger Dan Ford, her reticent neighbor to the south, thinks the aloof newcomer has no clue what it takes to survive North Woods winters. Reluctantly, he volunteers to help her prepare the place for the inevitable blizzards.

Martha is shocked when local shop owner Natalie Bjorg says her jewelry exudes erotic passion. Natalie doesn’t stop there, but explains that as the new Mistress of Purgatory Point, Martha now holds the key to release its two ghosts: Ben and Stella have been trapped between worlds for nearly a century, waiting for an owner of their home to discover a love that matches their own and set them free.

EXCERPT

Martha closed her eyes and welcomed the drifting sensations of dozing.

He’d have strong hands. She’d have soft hands. Dan’s fingers. Natalie’s fingers. As if from a distance, Martha recognized her own soft moans. Her loins ached. It was an old ache, yet a familiar ache.

Her nipples pebbled and strained against the flannel gown. Fingers brushed against her inner thigh. She squeezed her legs tightly together, trapping them.

Whose fingers? Hers? His? Natalie’s? She was dreaming. She knew she was. She had to be dreaming. She let herself sink farther into the darkness.

“That a girl,” came a soothing whisper penetrating her fuzzy brain. “You’re a passionate woman. Let it out. Cherish your passion. Let me help. Let me touch you.”

“Natalie?” Martha whispered, unable to awaken.

A soft chuckle answered. “Not this time. Maybe later, if you allow yourself. Now let me help you.”

The pressure of fingertips on her thigh matched the pressure building behind her loins. Her brow furrowed as another set of fingers caressed her taut nipples still protected by flannel. “Oh,” she moaned. She tensed and then relaxed. The fingers on her thigh slid upward to where she burned the hottest.

Martha bit down on her lower lip as a finger seeking more heat found it. She gasped and lurched up and down, helping to seat the intruder in her sex. “This can’t be happening,” she moaned, widening her thighs.

“But it is. You’re not pretending it isn’t, are you?”

Martha hesitated. The finger stopped its exploring. She shook her head in response to the question and to her overwhelming desire. She wasn’t even certain what she wanted, but she wanted it with her entire body.

BUY LINKS

Mistress of Purgatory Point is on sale for $3.00 from the publisher:

https://www.extasybooks.com/mistress-of-purgatory-point

Also available at these retail outlets:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mistress-of-Purgatory-Point-ebook/dp/B003XRF09S

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/mistress-of-purgatory-point

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Excerpts

We’ve got nothing to hide… The Heist by Adriana Kraft #KU #RomanticSuspense #Crime #Danger #Detective

November 7, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

Looking for a sizzling romantic suspense?

The Heist, by Adriana Kraft

BLURB

A heist? A murder? It’s villain’s choice.

A special-order art theft? Tedious, but seamless – until small town museum director Kara Daniels calls in the experts. Furious her favorite trio of priceless impressionist paintings has been stolen from its traveling exhibit on her watch, Kara is determined to save not only the paintings, but her future in the art world. She’ll stop at nothing to entrap the thief.

Ted Springs knows the underbelly of the criminal world a little closer than he might like—but he’s turned it to good advantage, first as a police officer, and now as detective for the Upper Midwest Arts Council. His job? To guarantee the security of the valuable paintings in the Council’s traveling exhibits.

Heat sizzles when Ted and Kara collide—can they work together, before it’s too late?

EXCERPT

Set up ~ the museum has just been broken into for the first time, but nothing’s been stolen. Kara is meeting with her curator, Sasha, as they prepare for the detective being sent by the Arts Council.

“It’s hard to imagine a guy from Chicago doing anything in Elk Grove, Nebraska—other than holding his nose while he decides which one of us is a likely thief.” Sasha shifted nervously from foot to foot in front of Kara’s mahogany desk.

“I doubt he’ll get very involved with any of us,” Kara responded. “Besides, he’s not coming to investigate the break-in, since nothing was taken. He’s coming to help us improve our security system. That’s a good thing. Right?”

“I guess.” Sasha crossed her arms, underscoring her obvious skepticism.

“He won’t arrive until tomorrow. In the meantime we’ll need to set up a meeting with the Board for him, and I’m sure he’ll want to spend time with our Security Committee. We’ll want to make sure all our procedure manuals are available. And all staff should be on call in case he wants to talk with them.”

Kara leaned back in her chair. “We’ve got nothing to hide, Sasha. The Upper Midwest Arts Council has the same goal we have—bringing a diverse array of quality art to this community, and doing so with the best level of security we can afford. Given what happened last night, what we currently have is not good enough. The Council won’t send the traveling exhibits you request if we can’t improve our security.”

“I know. It’s just I’ve never liked outsiders prying into my business.”

“I understand.” Kara considered her curator afresh. She’d hired Sasha herself three years earlier, after she’d been promoted from that job to director. Sasha was already highly regarded across the Midwest region for her artistic judgment and presentation skills. That she preferred women to men in her private life had no bearing on her value to the museum. Yet Kara had seen this skittishness from Sasha before. She desperately wanted to keep her private life private. They both knew if an investigator considered either one of them as a potential suspect, their private lives would be open to severe scrutiny.

BUY LINKS

Available exclusively at Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LNE7366

Always free to read at Kindle Unlimited

Also available in paperback:

http://www.amazon.com/Heist-Adriana-Kraft/dp/0990747611

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Breakfast Buddies #NewRelease by Ildar Daminov #Giveaway #LGBTQIA+

November 6, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

Title: Breakfast Buddies

Author: Ildar Daminov

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 11/01/2022

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 23900

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, college students, self-discovery, first love, cultural differences, writing

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Description

We humans are spectacularly bad at understanding our own emotions.

A socially conservative Asian young man makes a life-changing decision—he moves to an international metropolis in the very heart of Europe to start his first year as a student at a prestigious academic institution. During one of the very first breakfasts at his new residence he meets a senior student, Jürgen B., to whom he takes an instant liking. As their friendship progresses, these small breakfast sessions become more and more meaningful to the young man, who starts to question both his own identity and his values as he discovers the depth of his confusing feelings about Jürgen.

His struggles to figure out what Jürgen means to him are made even worse by his fears about opening up, especially to his own family. In his desperation, he turns to the only method at hand—reflecting on his diary records, which he makes every day. That is how his first academic year in Europe becomes an exercise in understanding and accepting himself and his own feelings. As the summer approaches, Jürgen, who is completely oblivious of his friend’s dilemma, is about to graduate and leave the academy for good. In the meantime, his friend is still torn between confessing his feelings and doing what others seeming to want from him.

Excerpt

Breakfast Buddies
Ildar Daminov © 2022
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
August 16, 2019

Sunny

We humans are spectacularly bad at understanding our own emotions.

I rummaged through a pile of books, trying to find it. Where could it be? I thought it had to be somewhere in between these dusty old tomes. Yet my attempts to find it seemed futile, and I got increasingly angry—my short-tempered nature did not help either. I pushed aside a pile of books standing in my way, mumbling in great annoyance. Some of them fell on the floor with loud thumps. After the idea came to me, I simply could not forget about it. I had to find it. There was just no other way. It must have been somewhere among all these heavy monographs on Korean politics, East Asian history, and countless language textbooks—the scholarly legacy of my former studies.

In my hectic search, I accidentally toppled one of the piles and cursed quietly. That was when I saw an old, laminated picture gracefully land on top of the scattered books. It looked familiar, so I picked it up. It was a photo of me and my academy friends—Jean Luc, Aja, Negasi, and… Jürgen. I felt a funny prickle in my heart. The picture made me slightly nostalgic about my student days. Ah, the academy, that international, scholarly melting pot. That was the place where it all started… Then I came back to my senses and shook my head, as if trying to free myself from some magical slumber. I had to concentrate, so I hid the photo in my coat pocket and resumed my search.

Where could it be? I clearly remembered leaving it here after my trip to Seoul, at least I thought I did. As the evening progressed, so did my desperation. I had come all the way back home to retrieve it—all this could not have been in vain! I sneezed. A cloud of dust exploded right in front of me, and I closed my eyes, grunting yet again in a mix of annoyance and desperation. Still, I persisted. After an extra hour of extensive searching that involved tired puffing, desperate muttering, and other forms of noiseless complaints, I finally found the precious object that I had been so obsessively looking for.

There it was. A rather unremarkable battered notebook with a brown leather cover that had almost lost its color. The binding had two numbers engraved on it—2016/2018. Inconspicuous though it looked, there was something mysteriously magical and enticing about it. Why did I need it so badly in the first place? I asked myself. I certainly knew the uncomfortable answer. It was a part of me, a part that I wanted to forget. Its semi-magical importance was reflected in the story that it told—a long-forgotten story of internal struggle, love, cowardice, and personal growth.

I smiled to myself furtively. It had taken a lot of courage to get back home, find it, and embark on a new adventure. So I had to make sure that I did everything properly. After all, diaries are simple but powerful tools: these mighty artifacts of the past that can bring back unnecessary memories and reopen old wounds. A phenomenon truly curious and somewhat egocentric in nature. Why do we even write diaries? We share our hopes and dreams, vent out anger and frustration in their pages. There are people who do not even have a clear aim when they first put pen to paper. There are people who want to organize their thoughts properly. There are people who do not know to whom they could entrust their secrets and so choose a silent paper friend. There are people who like to self-reflect and want to better understand themselves. There are people…

So many people and so many diaries. Some are full of trite details of daily routines, while others diligently guard what our past selves thought to be our dearest and most important memories. Some become deeply cherished heirlooms passed down from generation to generation, while others are consumed by the insatiable quicksand of history, the names of those who wrote them vanishing like the final gentle whisper of the early autumn wind. Yet every diary—no matter how boring or gripping it is—tells a story and creates meaning where there was none. If used wisely, that meaning helps us to better understand this ridiculously complicated world through the stories of ourselves and others.

My furtive smile became brighter as I carefully studied the dusty notebook in my hands. I was full of triumph and determination—and yet felt a tiny droplet of melancholy and wistfulness. As I kept looking at it, I wondered whether I was ready to finish the last entry. Perhaps, this was the right time to revisit the diary and do it.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Ildar Daminov is a Tatar Kazakhstani social scientist and a modern-day nomad who resides in and travels across Europe. In his free time, he writes short stories in English and Russian and does a podcast on North Korea. If you like this story, you can contact him via his email or on Facebook.

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He’s Supposed to be Very Good… The Heist by Adriana Kraft #KU #RomanticSuspense #Crime #Danger #Detective

November 4, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

Showing a little love for a backlist book, one of our favorite suspense stories.

BLURB

A heist? A murder? It’s villain’s choice.

Heat sizzles when Ted and Kara collide—can they work together, before it’s too late?

EXCERPT

Here are the opening lines of the book…

Kara Daniels swiveled in her desk chair to get a better look at her curator, Sasha Ivory.

“You’ve met this Ted Springs who’s supposed to be dashing to our rescue?” Sasha spat out the question and pushed a strand of blond hair back into her fashionable pixie cut.

“Briefly,” Kara responded, trying not to get caught up in Sasha’s frustration. As director of the Nelson museum, Kara had overall responsibility for the mid-sized institution, including security. She hugged her aching shoulders. The stress had been building ever since she’d arrived early that morning to open the building, only to discover it was already unlocked. “He’s supposed to be very good at what he does.”

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LNE7366

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Excerpts

Aren’t you the new Mistress… #MFRWHooks #LGBTQ #EroticRomance

November 2, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

Welcome to MFRWHooks!

Scroll to the end for more of this week’s tempting excerpts!

Mistress of Purgatory Point, by Adriana Kraft

BLURB

A tender ghost story and a sizzling erotic romance with a splash of BDSM, Mistress of Purgatory Point is also the deeply moving chronicle of the mid-life sexual awakening of a stoic widow who thought she’d already experienced her one allotted love.

One man, two women and two ghosts keep love’s fires burning through the deep chill of a North Woods winter—but which love will hold the key?

EXCERPT

Chapter One

“Aren’t you the new Mistress of Purgatory Point?”

Martha Richards tilted her head to the side and stared at her inquisitor. She’d never met the sprightly blonde, but then she’d only been in the combination book-and-craft store once before, to see if it seemed a worthwhile place to consign some jewelry pieces. Mistress of Purgatory Point. Really!

“I bought that property about a month ago,” Martha said in clipped tones. “I didn’t realize it came with a title.”

“Oh, it does,” the petite blonde bubbled, not in the least put off by the purposely cool response. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, smiling broadly, “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Natalie Bjorg. I own this place.” She arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’m buying it from my parents, who moved to Florida over a year ago.”

Martha narrowed her eyes, “So you make decisions about what you will or won’t sell?”

“That’s right.” Natalie glanced at Martha’s shoulder bag. “Are you an artist?”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” Martha sighed. This was the hardest part of picking up her art again. Creating pieces, pouring her soul into them was one thing, but then she had to try and market them. “I do make jewelry from time to time, and I wondered if this shop might be interested in displaying them.”

“Come on over to my table,” Natalie said, pointing at one of four small round tables in a nook.

The intimacy of the nook surprised Martha. She could see it offered a pleasant place for customers to chat or read. So why were her palms sweating? Was she that anxious about her jewelry being rejected? There were several other shops in Ely that might work with her.

She scrutinized the shopkeeper as she pulled out a chair. Natalie Bjorg was hardly the kind of woman she’d expected to deal with when she’d entered the store, but if Natalie was the proprietor, she hardly had a choice. Natalie seemed rather young for the responsibility, though actually it was hard to determine the ages of women living year-round in Ely. Most of them spent so much time out on the Boundary Waters in the sun and wind or cross-country skiing in the winter that their tan skins made them appear ageless. “So you’re a native to the area?”

“Yep. Born and raised in Ely. Couldn’t imagine living any place else. Though I do want to travel more. Would you like some coffee? I don’t have the special blends, but I make good coffee.”

“Thanks. That would be nice.” Martha sighed softly, relaxing in spite of herself. How could she not, faced with such an infectious, energetic presence?

“So show me what you have,” Natalie said, after filling two coffee cups and pulling up a chair. “I am so pleased you came by. This is sort of our off season. Not much happens here until the snow flies.”

Holding her breath, Martha reached into her bag for a couple pieces wrapped in cloth. Carefully, she unwrapped the first piece, watching Natalie closely. The woman’s eyes rounded, and she gasped as soon as she saw the gold waxing moon pendant suspended from a circle.

“It’s beautiful!” Natalie exclaimed, with a hand at her throat. “You made that?”

“Of course.” Martha smiled. Why did people often seem so amazed by her creations? She pulled the cloth from the second piece, and again Natalie sat stunned. Martha caught herself grinning—probably the girl had seldom been without words.

“It’s so…so erotic. It’s absolutely stunning.”

BUY LINKS

Mistress of Purgatory Point is on sale for $3.00 from the publisher:

https://www.extasybooks.com/mistress-of-purgatory-point

Also available at these retail outlets:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mistress-of-Purgatory-Point-ebook/dp/B003XRF09S

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/mistress-of-purgatory-point

Be sure to click on the links to travel to the rest of today’s excerpts!

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The Unmasking #TurningPoint #RomanticSuspense #LoveStory #Halloween

October 31, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

It’s Halloween! All month long we’ve been featuring our romantic suspense The Unmasking, structured around the Celtic/Pagan calendar. The story opens just before Halloween/Samhain. After sharing That Kiss on Halloween night, Nancy and Matt develop a fun-for-now fling—at least, that’s what they’re thinking until this moment.

To write this scene, I ended up digging deep into my own experience. If you’re an author, do you ever write a critical moment from your own history into a book?

Last week I gave you a peek into our personal story with my Meet Cute post describing how Hubs and I met. I’d had my sights on him for a long time, but once we started dating, he got way ahead of me. Nancy’s dilemma in the moment below comes straight out of my history: I was afraid to say yes, but I was desperate not to lose him. Will Nancy take the plunge?

Matt has finally figured it out:

EXCERPT

“I love you, Nancy. And I don’t know what to do with you.”

Relief and fear swept over Nancy in such quick succession she couldn’t tell which was which. He loved her and he still wanted her – relief, she decided. That was a start. So what was the fear? Hold on. Take your time. Speechless, she searched his face, her eyes brimming with tears, the bare beginning of a smile playing at her lips.

Matt held her gaze. “Are you ready for an open, honest relationship? Wherever it leads? No secrets. No withholding. No trying to protect me. Tell me what you feel, what you want.”

There. That was the fear: he was too far ahead. Her smile froze in place. If she said no, she’d lose him. But she wasn’t ready to say yes, either. Could they wait it out? Where to start? Clearly, it was her turn to speak.

“I’ll try…”

…I hope you’ll read the book to find out if “I’ll try” is enough – but then it’s a romance, so you already know they’ll work it out. For Matt and Nancy, the secrecy and betrayals are far from over.

Oh, and what did I do? I said “yes” even though I was quaking in my boots. We had tough sledding for the next couple months, but I’ve never regretted my choice. Happy Halloween!

BLURB

Whose mask will crumble first—
the enigmatic professor of Celtic Studies,
the undercover cop masquerading as a co-ed,
or the campus stalker,
biding his time to strike again?

Is anthropology professor Matt Bayfield the Blackthorn College rapist, or a potential ally? Aloof and unapproachable, Matt has academic ambitions. He can’t escape Blackthorn College soon enough, and he doesn’t want any entanglements to slow down his exit.

Nancy Appleby would like nothing more than to solve the string of campus rape cases before Thanksgiving so she can go home. The last thing she wants is a relationship to complicate her life—but she’ll settle for a fling, especially when the sex sizzles.

The stalker has his own carefully crafted timetable, with a special date just for Nancy. Can Matt and Nancy force him out of his hidey-hole before it’s too late?

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Available exclusively at Amazon

Always FREE to read on Kindle Unlimited

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The Mind of the Villain #TBT #RomanticSuspense #KU #Halloween #MFRWAuthor

October 27, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

Halloween’s almost here! Did you think we were going to give away the villain’s secrets on this last Throw Back Thursday in October? Think again – but what we will do is share the opening of a creepy letter he sent her:

“Dear Detective: You may be good at games, but I am a master at them. I can hardly wait… Rest assured you are the chosen one. You will reign at the fire – no one else will do. Only one more pretender before you will mount the throne.

BLURB

Whose mask will crumble first—
the enigmatic professor of Celtic Studies,
the undercover cop masquerading as a co-ed,
or the campus stalker,
biding his time to strike again?

The stalker has his own carefully crafted timetable, with a special date just for Nancy. Can Matt and Nancy force him out of his hidey-hole before it’s too late?

BUY LINK

Available exclusively at Amazon

Always free to read on Kindle Unlimited

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Excerpts

The Mind of the Villain #TBT #RomanticSuspense #KU #Halloween #MFRWAuthor

October 20, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

For Throwback Thursday, here’s another peek into the mind of our villain. Tension is amping up! By now, Nancy and Matt have figured out the villain’s timing, but they still have no clue who he is, who he’ll target next, or how to stop him.

He sobered against the stiff wind. Did Detective Appleby think she was invulnerable to his gift? No goddess could resist the gift of his Robyn. And she was a goddess. Maybe more dangerous than the others, but certainly he knew now what the universe had been trying to tell him.

The irony was that she thought she was hunting him. None of the others were that eager to receive his gift. But she’d have to wait her turn.

BLURB

Whose mask will crumble first—
the enigmatic professor of Celtic Studies,
the undercover cop masquerading as a co-ed,
or the campus stalker,
biding his time to strike again?

The stalker has his own carefully crafted timetable, with a special date just for Nancy. Can Matt and Nancy force him out of his hidey-hole before it’s too late?

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That Kiss! #MFRWHooks #RomanticSuspense #Samhain #UndercoverCop #KU

October 19, 2022

by WebsiteDeveloper

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The Unmasking, by Adriana Kraft

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Whose mask will crumble first—
the enigmatic professor of Celtic Studies,
the undercover cop masquerading as a co-ed,
or the campus stalker,
biding his time to strike again?

The stalker has his own carefully crafted timetable, with a special date just for Nancy. Can Matt and Nancy force him out of his hidey-hole before it’s too late?

EXCERPT

Set Up: It’s Samhain—after leaving Professor Bayfield’s Celtic lecture, Nancy’s determined to smoke out the stalker; she’s pretty sure he spots his victims at a local bar…

At the bar two hours later, Nancy sat on a bar stool next to the open space where patrons came to place their orders. Her purse lay on the stool beside her so there would be plenty of room for her perp to sit down—if he ever arrived. She’d wait another half hour and then make her exit. She was nearly certain the man was somewhere in the smoky bar.

Slowly adding another layer of lipstick, Nancy studied her image in the mirror that stretched the full length of the row of liquor bottles behind the bartender. She hardly recognized herself. Her own dark hair was tucked under an auburn wig. Fake contacts made her eyes appear dark brown instead of gray. The sweater she wore dipped low, revealing much more of her breasts than she preferred, but then she was trying to fulfill every man’s dream. She hoped her red leather mini-skirt screamed availability. Once again, she had on the calf length black boots. They provided her with some sense of being covered up as well as warmth. Now all she needed was a man—the right man.

She took a sip of Coors and watched a new patron enter the room still huddled over from fighting the cold wind. He straightened and stepped into the light.

Nancy raised a hand to cover her largely exposed breasts. It couldn’t be, she screamed to no one. It couldn’t be. She looked away and then peeked back at the man approaching the bar. Holy shit! It was.

Be calm. He won’t recognize you. You’re in disguise. And what in the hell was Matt Bayfield doing here? This wasn’t his kind of scene. She closed her eyes, taking in the lilting Celtic music. Of course it was, tonight. She should have remembered that. She shivered and then warmed to her task. It might be fun observing the man when he didn’t realize she was even nearby.

Nancy concentrated on her beer and nearly snickered when Bayfield came to the bar to order a drink. His fingers drummed against the bar surface no more than two feet from her arm. The bartender was busy at the other end of the bar and Bayfield’s impatience was evident.

At last, the bartender nodded at Bayfield. “What can I get for you?”

“A glass of chardonnay,” Bayfield said, distinctly as if the man might be hard of hearing.

The man wiped his hands on his once white apron. “Drinking heavy tonight, huh?”

Nancy gave Bayfield credit for not rising to the bartender’s bait.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Bayfield accept his drink and change. His gaze swept above her trying to locate a seat in the crowded tavern. His eyes lowered meeting hers. She tried to control her racing pulse. He shook his head. And then his eyes bugged.

“Ms. Cr—”

Before he could mutter another syllable, Nancy leaped to her feet, wrapped her arms around his neck, and planted the biggest, wettest kiss she could muster on his mouth, swallowing the rest of her name and his breath. He stumbled backward. She refused to let him go, imprinting her lips on his.

She started to release him, but then one of his hands pressed against her back and the other curved over her buttocks. Her eyes widened. Professor Bayfield was kissing her! Not about to pass up this opportunity, Nancy closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment.

His tongue pushed into her open mouth; she greeted it with her own. He brought a hand between them and squeezed a breast. Her eyes flew open. Would she burn up right there in the damn bar? As if he sensed her changing mood, Bayfield’s eyes sprang as wide open as hers. He started to pull away.

Applause and hoots broke out from bar patrons. Steins were raised in salute.

Nancy and Matt looked sheepishly at the other patrons. “Don’t say a word, Bayfield,” Nancy said, still holding him close. “I can explain everything, but we’ve got to get out of here, now.” He started to open his mouth. Brushing her lips across his, she whispered, “Please, don’t say my name. It could be a matter of life and death.”

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