Category: new release
Spotlight: Surrendering to the Beast by Tina Donahue
Blurb: When she’s good, she’s very good. But when he’s bad, she’s better. Taming the Beast, Book 2 As a good fairy, Heather is empathetic and chaste to a fault. No bad language, no dirty thoughts, flirting and no sex. But when a satyr named Daemon steps up to her reception desk at From Crud to Stud, she finds herself on the fast track to exquisite corruption. Daemon is the total bad-boy package with a kiss straight from the dark side. Though he’s here for a supernatural makeover, Heather can’t imagine why any red-blooded woman would want him to change. A disciple of the god of wine, Daemon has had his share of good times. But sex has never been this good. Heather brings out a new side of him, a side that makes him want to protect as well as pillage. But Daemon needs a little creative backup to help set his fairy’s naughtiness free. And that means bringing in Mistress Jin. Under the genie’s tutelage and Daemon’s shameless lust, Heather is about to learn what it means to let loose.
Heather steeled herself to do battle with Satan. Cautiously, she faced her webcam and his image on her computer monitor. This evening, he’d assumed the form of a European playboy, a snifter of cognac held casually in one hand, dark hair slicked back, his blood-red ascot contrasting nicely with his white shirt and navy blazer. He certainly knew how to dress.
“Cara mia.” Heat smoldered in his voice and dark eyes. “What can I do to you?”
“For me,” she corrected gently, wondering when he’d ever get that right.
Grinning, he focused on her white peasant blouse and jutted nipples, her areolas tightened from the chilly weather, not him. Tonight was damp and cool thanks to a spring storm that continued to rage in the French Quarter. Lightning flashed and the office lights flickered. Flames flared briefly in his pupils.
“We’ll do many things to each other, no?”
Heather smiled politely, a knee-jerk reaction for a good fairy. Needing to get tough, she held up his overdue bill, hoping he’d look at it rather than her chest. Her hand shook so badly the paper rattled.
“How you tremble,” he cooed. “How pale you are. Allow me to put some color in your lovely cheeks. Heat that will last an eternity.”
Her skin got even clammier. “Please, just pay your account.” She waved the paper and talked fast before losing her nerve. “Your grandson failed to show for his last two appointments. I’m sure he had a good reason. Unfortunately, he didn’t call to cancel.” She offered an apologetic smile and pressed on. “Because you’re the cardholder, we had to charge you for the time. I’m so sorry, but it is the rule.” One she was honor-bound to enforce as an employee of From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings.
Howls from weres, hisses from vampires and obscenities from demons poured from the treatment rooms. Those poor souls were going through proverbial hell to suppress their beasts. They longed to date mortal women without freaking them out, while also winning their hearts the normal way. With real charm, not magic, with integrity and love, not lies and manipulation. But these makeovers took the staff’s valuable time and clients needed to pay for the effort. Even Satan should understand that.
He gave her an indulgent smile. “What charges?”
Gasping, she dropped the flaming paper in her trashcan before it burnt her fingers.
“Later,” he said and killed the call.
Hurriedly, Heather put out the small blaze, chiding herself for letting the account get to this point. She should have been firm with Satan’s grandson when he signed up for the service. Determined to make up for being too nice, she brought up her bank account to pay the charges herself. She was about to transfer the funds when the lights flickered twice, thunder boomed and the front door flew open, banging against the wall. She flinched. A blast of dank air and rain blew inside, followed by a guy who looked to be thirty or so. He wore a black cowboy hat, snug navy tee, low-slung jeans and cowboy boots. Once he shoved the door shut, he slumped against it, breathing hard.
Heather stood so quickly her chair rolled into the wall. He didn’t notice. He’d closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with his hard swallow. Alarmed yet intrigued, she regarded the short, dark hairs on his throat and took the rest of him in. His rain-dampened hair was the color of dark chocolate, thick and wavy, flowing to his broad shoulders. They heaved with his next ragged breath. Tall, possibly six-three, he was lean yet muscular. His wet tee clung to his well-defined pecs and abs, those bruising biceps. Stubble covered his strong jaw, upper lip and cheeks. His bronze skin spoke of days in the sun.
Even from where she stood, Heather smelled his scent. Clean and masculine, a woodsy, fresh fragrance along with something else…the unmistakable odor of liquor. Uh-oh. It wasn’t often that mortals, drunk or otherwise, happened upon this place. When they did, Heather had ironclad rules to follow. First, buzz Constance, a voodoo priestess who could remove memories by laying her hands on someone’s head. Following that, Heather was supposed to buzz Becca, a half-mortal witch who owned this place. Heather leaned over her desk to press the intercom button. The guy turned to her, blinked slowly and stared. Her hand stalled. His eyes were amazing, the color of Lipton tea, ringed by long, sooty lashes, his attention riveted as he drank her in. Given his slow, sexy smile, Heather suspected he was undressing her with his eyes. She swallowed and was about to press the button when he groaned suddenly and mournfully, the sound of someone in serious pain.
About Me (You know you want to know!): I’m an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for Kensington, Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Siren Publishing, Booktrope, Luminosity, Decadent, and indie. Yay! Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised my work, and trust me, I’m forever grateful for that. I’ve had my books reach finals in the EPIC competition, one title was named Book of the Year at a review site, and others have won awards in RWA-sponsored contests. I’m actually featured in the 2012 Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Talk about feeling like a freaking star. Before my writing career, I was the editor of an award–winning Midwestern newspaper and worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company. Outside of being an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, I’ve flown a single-engine plane (scary stuff), rewired an old house using an electricity for dummies book, and have been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally whenever I’m eating anything Mexican or Italian. Yeah, I like to eat (burp). You can check me out here – yes, I am everywhere! 🙂
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A New Release from Tina Donahue!
He’ll unleash her indecent desires…in the most provocative way possible
Working for a celebrated photographer of lush nudes, many with BDSM themes, isn’t easy for Jodi. She’s full-figured, wholesome and longing for Mac, her bad boy boss. His shaggy hair, wicked tat and total hotness make her dream of ditching her work as his assistant to get down on her knees as his eager sub. If he’d only notice her.
Who says he hasn’t? As laid-back as they come, Mac can’t get over how uptight Jodi is around him…like he might bite her. Not what he has in mind. Her guileless nature and voluptuous figure do dangerous things to his self-control.
Lucky for him a client’s request has Jodi finally yielding to her sensual nature, because Mac’s fully prepared to dominate, demanding her submission, delivering punishment. In other words, an erotic takeover.
EXCERPT:
Mac slung the leather strap over his shoulder and dropped the manacles on a table to the side. The lightweight metal clinked delicately in comparison to the noise of the savage music. Its harsh bass matched his pounding pulse.
He’d done it again. Without even trying, he’d run Jodi off. Every time he caught her watching him, she acted as though he was going to bite her…or maybe fire her. Was she worried about losing her job?
Mac hadn’t a clue. Since he’d been old enough to notice women, their emotions had baffled him. In middle and high school, the girls had liked how he looked and he sure as hell loved how they felt, so they’d hooked up for some good times. When those brief encounters had ended, there were endless recriminations and tears from the girls. Eventually, he’d learned to expect that. Females got pissed about nearly everything. They cried. They also survived to weep another day.
During college, he’d admittedly acted like a dog, mounting every woman who moved. No way would he get married even once or—god forbid—would he repeat his parents’ mistakes by tying the knot more than once. He was simply out for a good time and an education. Again there’d been the breakup fights. His ex-girlfriends always avoided him as they would an STD. But he’d never had a woman behave that way before he’d even touched them.
What was with Jodi? More than once, Mac had sensed her interest, seeing desire in her eyes when he unexpectedly caught her watching him. At first, he’d thought she’d disapproved of him photographing nudes for a living—especially with the added debauchery of BDSM. That notion had died a quick death when he’d noted her flushed cheeks and barely contained excitement.
No different from a few minutes ago.
For a second, she’d surrendered within his gaze, her hazel eyes glistening with arousal. Her lips had parted in seeming anticipation of his tongue or maybe his cock. In that moment, he’d again recognized a kindred spirit. She liked naughty games. She wanted a Dom to punish her for being bad then love her until he’d drained away her doubt, replacing it with wonder and joy.
Mac liked that. He enjoyed her.
Jodi didn’t come on strong like most of the women he knew. Shit, she didn’t come on at all. She sure as hell didn’t worry about her looks, which was a relief. Mac couldn’t count the times he’d tried to have a real conversation with one of the models—discussing the craziness of a current war or the horrors of the latest workplace shooting—only to have her nod absently while she caught glimpses of herself in any reflective surface she could find.
Jodi didn’t do that. She was unbelievably levelheaded and genuine. With her, Mac sensed a man could be himself. He wouldn’t have to put on a show and prove he was more than he could ever be. Imperfect was good enough. Being simply human would suffice. Her quiet manner and intelligence not only comforted, it aroused.
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