CHAPTER ONE...  (behind the cut!)

Like everything else bad that happened in Miranda Hill’s life, rear-ending old Mrs. Doolittle was purely the fault of Dane Croft.

She could have sworn that she’d recognized the broad shoulders, tight ass, and familiar swagger of her nemesis walking into the local coffee house. Her most hated enemy. The man who had ruined her life. In fact, she’d been so busy craning her neck to see if it really was Dane Croft that she hadn’t paid attention to the stoplight . . . and had plowed right into the car in front of her.

Yet another thing she could add to the list of reasons why she hated him.

Miranda put her pickup in park and slid out of the cab to look at the damage she’d caused to the other car. Mrs. Doolittle drove a Buick that was older than Miranda herself, and the thing was built like a tank—a big, powder blue tank. The bumper wasn’t even dinged, not that Mrs. D cared. The old woman crawled from the belly of the tank and scowled at her.

“You hit my car, Miranda.” If Mrs. Doolittle had a cane, she probably would have shaken it in Miranda’s face. “What on earth were you thinking, girl?”

Miranda gave Mrs. D an apologetic look and self-consciously tugged at the high collar of her pink sweater set. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Doolittle. I was just . . . distracted.” She was still distracted, actually. Her gaze strayed to the Kurt’s Koffee on the far side of the street, but the windows were tinted and impossible to see into.

The elderly woman peered at her. “Young lady, were you using the Twitters while you were driving? You know—”

“No Internet,” Miranda blurted, tugging on her collar again. “I just wasn’t paying attention. I thought I saw . . . something.”

Someone.

A car pulled up behind them. No surprise, given that most of the streets in downtown Bluebonnet were single lanes, with just enough room in the city square to park in front of one of the two restaurants. She waved for the driver to go around them, and then continued apologizing to Mrs. D, even as they exchanged insurance information. Anything to get out of the street and appease her curiosity. She kept glancing at the coffee house as she scribbled down her contact numbers.

Finally, Mrs. D was on her way, satisfied. Miranda pulled her truck into a parking space across the street and sprinted toward the coffee shop, but didn’t go inside. Instead, she pressed her hands to the glass and peered in. A few people were seated, but she didn’t see the man she was looking for.

No Dane Croft. Was she crazy? Had she imagined that she saw him? Chewing on her lip, Miranda straightened the front of her sweater set in the reflection and then went inside.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Boobs of Bluebonnet,” said Jimmy Langan from behind the counter. Jimmy was the town rebel, with purple, red, and black Rasta braids, a face that had never seen a tan, and enormous ear gauges that he’d probably regret when he was seventy. He grinned at her, giving Miranda the up-and-down look that she’d become far too accustomed to in the past nine years. “What can I do for you?”

“Shut up, Jimmy,” she said. Three weeks. She could deal with the jokes and the sneaking glances at her breasts for three more weeks. Moving past the counter, she peered down the hallway at the restrooms. No Dane Croft. She resisted the urge to open the door, and instead wandered back to the counter. “Is anyone in there?”

“You want me to go and check under the stalls for feet?” Jimmy said dryly.

“Well, no,” she stammered, her hand going to the collar of her sweater. “Maybe.” She hesitated, reluctant to say the name of the man she was looking for. If she even so much as uttered Dane’s name, the rumors would start flying all over town again.

You know that nice Miranda Hill? She never quite got over Dane Croft. She was asking about him in Kurt’s Koffee. Poor thing.

Remember that man in the photos with Miranda Hill? She’s still sweet on him. I heard she’s still got the hots for him and that’s why she hasn’t married.

The town librarian? She’s a slut. Want to see the pictures? She spent seven minutes in heaven with Casanova Croft back when they were both in high school. They even took photos of it. Just google “Boobs of Bluebonnet” and you’ll see them.

Miranda clutched the collar of her demure sweater even harder. “So what kind of customers have you had today?”

Jimmy shrugged lazily, adjusting the thick black-frame glasses on his pasty, scruffy face. He’d been a stoner back when they’d graduated from high school together, and he was a stoner still. Asking him to remember the customers he’d had that morning might be beyond his pot-riddled memory. “Couple soy lattes, couple double espressos, a venti mocha frap with double Splenda . . .”

Great, just what she needed: a rundown of coffee orders. She feigned interest, her eyes skimming the restaurant as Jimmy rattled off a litany of special requests.

“And a certain someone you might recall,” Jimmy added slowly, his gaze dropping to her breasts. “We went to high school with him.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to hide what the underwire minimizer wouldn’t. Her heart was thudding hard in her chest, but she forced herself to be nonchalant about the information. “Oh? Someone from high school? Who’s that?”

To her surprise, he reached behind the counter and pulled out a brown and green pamphlet. “You remember Dane Croft? Casanova Croft? Star of the Las Vegas Flush?”

The guy she’d been making out with in the closet? The one with his hand on her boobs and the other down her pants for all eternity thanks to a few ill-timed photos and the magic of the Internet? Who’d left the next day to be drafted into the NHL and become a star while she’d been stuck in town as her mother had a nervous breakdown? The Casanova Croft who’d been booted out of the NHL six years later for sleeping with the coach’s wife? Life-ruiner and all-around jerk?

Yeah, she knew who he was. “I’m familiar with the guy.”

“He’s moved back to town,” Jimmy said, offering her the pamphlet. “Him and two other guys we went to high school with are starting a business here. Something about survival training classes. They bought the Daughtry Ranch on the outskirts of town.”

“The Daughtry Ranch?” Miranda echoed, taking the pamphlet from him and forcing her shaking fingers to open it. The Daughtry Ranch was ten thousand acres of private property, and when old Mr. Daughtry had died without an heir, the ranch had gone up for auction. No one in town knew who’d ended up buying it. Sure enough, there in the picture on the pamphlet were three men she recognized: Grant Markham, Colt Waggoner, and her nemesis—Dane Croft. The three of them were dressed in black T-shirts and camouflage pants, and the top of the brochure proudly proclaimed, “Wilderness Survival Expeditions: Bushcraft Training for Corporate and Military Groups.”

Survival training? The Dane Croft she remembered was a hard-partying playboy who refused to do anything that didn’t involve beer or girls—or both. She remembered Grant and Colt—one was a jock and one had been the richest guy in her class. Both had moved away when they’d graduated, just like Dane. And now they were back . . . just like Dane.

Could today possibly get any worse?

She tucked the brochure into her pocket, feeling faint. “Thanks, Jimmy. Can I get a green tea latte, please?”

“Sure,” Jimmy said lazily, his gaze sliding to her breasts again. “Venti, grande, or tall? Iced or hot? Two percent, whole, skim, or soy?”

Miranda had her phone out, dialing, and ignored Jimmy. Her other hand fluttered back to her pocket repeatedly, touching the brochure again and again.

“Right. I’ll just make something up,” he drawled, then turned away to make her drink.

Beth Ann picked up the office phone on the second ring. “California Dreamin’,” she answered in a chirpy voice. “We do waxes, haircuts, highlights, and perms. Can I make you an appointment?”

“It’s me,” Miranda hissed into the receiver, covering the phone and turning away in case Jimmy planned on listening in. “You’re never going to believe who’s back in town.”

“Who?”

“Dane Croft,” Miranda gritted.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “The Dane Croft? The Vegas Flush player? The one we went to high school with?”

“That’s him—”

“The one who put his hand down your pants—”

“Beth Ann!”

“I’m clearing my lunch appointments,” Beth Ann declared. “Be here in twenty minutes and we’ll talk.”

For Beth Ann, a “talk” usually involved waxing Miranda’s eyebrows, a trim for Miranda’s split ends, and a manicure. They’d been friends ever since the fifth grade, and if there was one thing that Miranda knew about Beth Ann, it was that she liked her hands busy while she chatted. Her small salon was nearly empty at noon on a Wednesday, and Miranda waited patiently as Beth Ann unlocked the back room that housed a tanning bed and let in a teenage blonde.

“I keep telling Candy that she’s going to look like a handbag by the time she’s thirty, but she won’t listen to me,” Beth Ann said with a shrug, returning to the barber chair Miranda sat in. “And the tanning bed brings in almost as much money as manicures do.” She spun the chair around, turning Miranda toward the mirror, and flung the pink satin styling cape over her clothes. “Now, honey, tell me your problems.”

“My problem is Dane Croft,” Miranda said, digging under the cape and pulling the brochure out. She held it toward Beth Ann. “He’s moved back to town—permanently. And he’s started a survival business with Grant Markham and Colt Waggoner.”

“Survival business?” Beth Ann tucked a lock of perfectly highlighted blond hair behind her ear and gave Miranda an odd look in the mirror. “That doesn’t sound like the Dane Croft we went to high school with.”

“It’s him—look at the picture.” Miranda slumped in the salon chair, wishing this day would start over again.

Beth Ann’s eyebrows rose as she stared at the pamphlet. “Professional survival services? That’s kind of strange.”

“I know,” said Miranda flatly.

“Mmm. Just look at them. They’ve all filled out rather . . . nicely, don’t you think?”

Miranda scowled and snatched the pamphlet back, glancing at the photo again. All three men were tall and fit, she supposed. Dane’s arms were especially toned with muscle. He had a dark tan and his black hair was cut incredibly short. The white smile on his face was as familiar as her own. He actually looked like a hunky, Hollywood version of a survival instructor. That made her feel worse. “This is just awful.”

“Why is it awful?” She began to comb out Miranda’s long, dark brown hair and trim the ends. “This is the perfect time for him to come back. You’re leaving for that big job in the city in three weeks, remember? You only have to avoid him until then.” And she sighed.

Miranda ignored Beth Ann’s sigh. She’d heard enough of them to feel permanently guilty about the fact that she wanted to leave Bluebonnet behind for a job in Houston. A job with real benefits and a chance to move up the corporate ladder. A job that could lead anywhere, maybe even chief information officer. Or higher. Miranda Hill, the Boobs of Bluebonnet, would have a fancy title and an even fancier job. She could actually do something with her master’s in Library Science instead of just re-cataloging books and taking complaints from old ladies who wanted the “dirty vampire books” removed from the shelves. “This is my chance to do something, Bethy. To get out of town. To be something other than the Boobs of Bluebonnet.”

“It’s what you’ve always wanted,” agreed Beth Ann. “It doesn’t mean that it won’t make me sad to see you go.”

Miranda regarded her friend through the mirror, watching as Beth Ann clipped her ends with careful, precise fingers. “I know. I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

In the mirror, Beth Ann gave her a wry smile. “Sure you will.”

Miranda glared down at the pamphlet and the three tanned, attractive men on the cover. “You know, I was hoping for three quiet weeks to relax and get things settled. My last day at the library was yesterday. My apartment in Houston is leased. The house is almost packed. I’ve got nothing to do for the next three weeks except stare at this picture and stew. Except every time I look at this, I see them.”

“Three sexy beasts?”

“Not them. The pictures.”

The images were ingrained into her memory. If she lived to be eighty, she’d never forget one single detail of those grainy, horrible photos—her torso facing the camera, an expression of complete and utter abandon on her face. Her T-shirt pushed up around her neck, her breasts facing the camera. Dane’s mouth on her neck and his hand down the front of her panties. Then the picture of her kneeling in front of him, as if she was about to give him a blow job.

She’d never known that there’d been a camera in the closet. Or that he’d pack up and leave town practically the next day to join the NHL, without a single word to her. Miranda had been forced to pretend that she wasn’t hurt by his abandonment, but abandonment had soon given way to horror as soon as the pictures surfaced.

And with a town as small as Bluebonnet . . . everyone talked. She hadn’t slept with Dane, but that didn’t matter. She’d tried going to the police when the pictures first went up, but her mother had been so upset and sheriff had looked at her like she was trash, and she’d dropped the entire thing rather than acknowledge that the pictures were of her and Dane. At the time, she’d hoped it’ll all just go away. No such luck..  Everyone in town assumed she had slept with Dane, blown him in the closet at a party, and they looked at her like she was dirt. In their eyes, she was dirt. The town slut. It had taken patience, a stiff upper lip, and years of a quiet existence as the town’s librarian before she’d managed to grasp a semblance of her reputation again.

Beth Ann put down the scissors and leaned over the back of the chair, smiling into the mirror at Miranda’s frown. “Well, you’ve got three weeks to burn, and your infamous ex is back in town. You can pretty much do what you want and you won’t be here to suffer the repercussions. So what do you want to do? TP his house? Key his car? I’m sure we can think up something totally juvenile and completely satisfying.”

Miranda stared down at the pamphlet, at Dane’s confident smile. But what she saw was pictures of herself on a webpage, in e-mails forwarded to thousands of people. Tossed up on the Internet and forever linked to her name. Pictures of his hand down her pants, her breasts angled at the camera like twin beacons.

And she stared at Dane’s casual, confident brochure smile again. Professional survival training, the pamphlet read.

Casanova Croft, kicked off of the Las Vegas Flush for sleeping with the owner’s wife.

Professional survival training. Professional.

“I think I want revenge,” Miranda blurted, then turned to stare up at her friend. “I know it’s not rational, and I don’t even care. Is that crazy?”

“Not at all,” soothed Beth Ann. “What did you have in mind?”

Miranda held up the brochure, an idea forming. “I want to ruin his career like he did mine.”

“I’m listening, honey.”

Miranda flipped open the pamphlet. “They’re just starting a business, right? What if pictures of Dane Croft surfaced on the Internet? Naked pictures of him? Naked, compromising pictures of him?” The idea began to grow in her mind, and she jumped out of the chair, almost trembling with excitement. “Naked, compromising pictures of him in a survival situation?”

Her best friend’s blond brows furrowed together. “And where would you get such pictures?”

“I’d take them myself.”

Beth Ann raised an eyebrow. “And just how are you going to do that?”

Miranda held up the brochure triumphantly. “I’m going to sign up for a survival course and use the legendary Boobs of Bluebonnet against him. Casanova Croft won’t stand a chance.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“I’ve never been wise around Dane Croft,” Miranda said, thinking of the last time she’d seen him.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Chad announced, shoving Miranda and Dane toward his bedroom closet. Giggling teenagers surrounded them, and Miranda felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, but she didn’t let go of Dane’s hand.

Dane nudged Chad and grinned. “Do me a favor, bro, and skip the timer.”

Chad smirked.

She could have protested, said she wasn’t that kind of girl, but she said nothing, not even when the door shut behind them. She wanted to be that kind of girl with Dane.

Chad’s closet smelled like sweaty football gear and dirty clothes. It was crammed full of boxes and clothing on hangers, the single flickering lightbulb overhead not offering much in the way of light. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell of the closet and waited, her breath catching. Would Dane make a move on her tonight? They’d flirted for weeks, held hands for the last one, and kissed under the bleachers. Given time, she knew she wanted him to be the one to take her overdue virginity.

But time was the one thing they didn’t have. They’d graduated earlier that evening and after the cap and gown ceremony, they’d headed to Chad’s for the last senior fling.

It was now or never.

She gestured at the light overhead as it flickered again. “Should we turn that off?”

“Leave it on. I like looking at you.” Dane’s hand gave hers a squeeze and he smiled at her. “You okay?”

Yes, she wanted to say. I’m fine. Did you have a nice time at graduation? But it came out as a whimper, the words lodged in her throat.

Dane chuckled at that. “I guess I should be telling you ‘Happy eighteenth birthday,’” he said. “You’re as old as me now.”

Eighteen, and they’d be going off to college soon. The thought ran through her mind, urgent curls of heat rushing through her. Instead of responding, she pulled him close and began to kiss him instead, her mouth seeking his.

“Whoa,” Dane whispered, but his hands went to her ass and he pulled her against him, grinding his hips against her own. His tongue slid into her mouth, delving deep and tasting her in the sweetest kiss she’d ever had. His mouth pulled away from hers after a long moment and he breathed hard in her ear. “Damn, Miranda.”

Her own breath thrilled at that, and she slid her leg between his . . . and stumbled, landing on him.

He cursed, trying to shift his weight, pinned between a row of jackets and a stack of boxes.

“Sorry,” she whispered meekly, shaking her high-heeled boot. “I think my shoe got caught in his helmet.”

They fumbled in the cramped quarters, and Miranda grabbed onto a shelf and pulled herself up, then turned to remove the football helmet from her boot.

Dane shifted behind her, his hands sliding around her waist. “That’s better,” he whispered against her neck. Something tickled at her waist, where her shirt rode up—his fingers.

Her hand covered his, and she moved it farther up under her shirt, quivering with pleasure. “Touch me, Dane. Please.”

“Love to,” he whispered in her ear, and pressed a kiss against her neck, making her squirm. “You are the hottest damn thing in this town, Miranda Hill.”

“You know it, Dane Croft,” she whispered, craning her neck so his tongue could glide along her throat. Heat pulsed through her body. She didn’t protest when his hands slid to her shirt and pulled it over her head in the near darkness. She even unhooked her own bra, since his fingers fumbled at her back for a long moment. But then his hands were cupping her breasts, his fingers warm against her skin. Fingers teased her nipples and she gasped, lifting her arms and twining them around his bent head.

From behind her, he pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder and she could feel his erection against her jeans. His fingers tweaked her nipples again, and her breath caught in response. “Dane,” she whispered. “God, do that again.”

“I’ll do even better,” he said against her neck. One hand grasping her full breast, his other slid down her belly and undid the button on her jeans. Her entire body tensed, tingles of excitement running through her. Was he going to touch her . . . there?

His fingertips slid into her panties, brushed the curls of her sex, and she let out a whimper of delight. Two seconds later, his fingertips slipped into her panties. One finger swept past the lips of her sex, grazed her clit. Oh yes. His hand squeezed her breast at the same time that he stroked her there, and her entire body stiffened, the anticipation of being in the closet with him rushing her toward an orgasm—

Click.

Miranda froze in place. Dane continued to finger her, biting at her shoulder, and she pulled away from him, sliding his hand out of her panties. “Did you hear that?”

His hands reached for her, brushed against her breasts again. “Didn’t hear anything.”

“I thought I heard a noise,” she said softly, staring at the closet door. It was still shut, and the doorknob didn’t move. Overhead, the light flickered again. Nothing. Maybe she was imagining things. Paranoid at being caught. If she listened hard, she could hear her classmates giggling in the other room, waiting for them to emerge.

She started to protest, but he bit her shoulder and pleasure crashed over her, and she didn’t protest when his hand slid back into her panties once more.

Looking back, she had been so very, very dumb. She should have guessed that Dane would have hidden a camera in that damn closet. Should have guessed that he’d want all his buddies to see that he’d gotten into curvy Miranda Hill’s panties and made her writhe against his hand in a closet. She hadn’t blown him, either, but no one would believe that from looking at the photos.

And she should have guessed that he’d disappear as soon as the NHL came calling. Who was she to him? No one, it seemed, but a quickie in the closet.

Next week, her next book in her steampunk series comes out - HEART OF STEEL. I got a chance to read this book early and was blown away by how fun and adventuresome it was, and how utterly likable Yasmeen and Archimedes were. I could read an entire series based on those two! Here's the blurb:

As the mercenary captain of the Lady Corsair, Yasmeen has learned to keep her heart as cold as steel, her only loyalty bound to her ship and her crew. So when a man who once tried to seize her airship returns from the dead, Yasmeen will be damned if she gives him another opportunity to take control.

Treasure-hunter Archimedes Fox isn’t interested in the Lady Corsair — he wants her coldhearted captain and the valuable da Vinci sketch she stole from him. To reclaim it, Archimedes is determined to seduce the stubborn woman who once tossed him to a ravenous pack of zombies, but she’s no easy conquest.

When da Vinci’s sketch attracts a dangerous amount of attention, Yasmeen and Archimedes journey to Horde-occupied Morocco — and straight into their enemy’s hands. But as they fight to save themselves and a city on the brink of rebellion, the greatest peril Yasmeen faces is from the man who seeks to melt her icy heart…

Their relationship is so sexy and fun. Archimedes reminds me a little of Han Solo in his lighthearted, playful nature. And Yasmeen? Well...she kind of reminded me of Han Solo too, in that rogueish mercenary captain sort of way. So this book was like watching Han Solo make out with Han Solo, which was pretty much as awesome as it sounds. Oh, and with airships.

Interested? How can you not be after my stunning analogy?

Want to win a free copy?  I'm giving away TWO paper (or Kindle! Your choice!) copies of Heart of Steel to two winners. This is open to anyone that Book Depository ships to, so if you're international, no problem. Here's what you have to do:

Meljean's next book after HEART OF STEEL is titled MOLTEN. The next is RIVETED. What awesome steampunk title would you give the book after that?

Just comment with your title suggestion by 11:59pm CST on 10/31/2011! Meljean reserves the right to totally borrow any incredibly awesome titles for future potential title-dom of course! I'll pick one winner of the title I like the best, and one random, so your odds are good even if your title is not.

The fine print: Comment by 11:59:59 PM CST on 10/31/2011 for your chance to win. Two winners will be selected and their names posted on this blog within the next day or two. Winner must provide me with their mailing address via email or contact form. You may enter as many times as you like for the title portion - I will weed out multiples for the random winner. So if you enter 5 times, you will have 5 title chances to win, and 1 random chance to win. The contest is open to international readers. No purchase necessary to enter. A review of the book is always deeply appreciated. Odds of winning depend on number of entries received. Void where prohibited.

Here's a quick blurb:

When a car accident takes Leah Sunderland’s life, she finds herself in dire need of divine assistance. Her fairy godmother comes to the rescue, but her help comes with conditions. As a fairy godmother, the only assistance she can offer deals with (you guessed it) fairy tales. To win a second chance at life, Leah must play out the tale of The Little Mermaid.

Armed with a mermaid tail and nothing else (not even a voice!), she has one month to make a nobleman fall in love with her, or else she’ll die permanently. But the nobleman she must seduce is a hard, fierce warlord who thinks she’s a spy and the mistress of his enemy.

Can she win him over before the thirty days are up? Or is she in danger of losing her heart as well as her life?

It's a category-length time travel romance (about 60k) and features a fairy godmother you just might recognize.  It's available on Smashwords, All Romance, B&N and Kindle! And for the first week, it's only $0.99 cents. After Labor Day, it'll be going back to full price.

Next up is the Succubus short starring Remy, Jackie and Zane. I had a bit of a mental freeze on it but I worked through the plot with my husband and it's flowing now! I'm also still hard at work at the sequel to BEAUTY DATES THE BEAST. After that, I have a massive line-up of projects - some are polishing up old manuscripts and some are brand new, and some are contracted work. I'm pretty much booked up until next year. Whew!

For the rest of March, I'm putting my contemporary romance, WICKED GAMES, on sale for 99 cents. Here's the link:

And here's the blurb:

Abby Lewis never pictured herself on the survival game show, Endurance Island. She’s just not the ‘survival’ type. But when her boss offers her a spot on the show and the opportunity of a lifetime, she packs her bags and heads to the tropics to be a contestant.

Once in the game, it’s clear that Abby’s in over her head. The game itself is full of competitive, aggressive people, and no one’s more aggressive than sexy, delicious – and arrogant – Dean Woodall. Sure he’s clever, strong, good at challenges, and has a body that makes her mouth water. He also hates Abby just as much as she hates him. That’s fine with Abby; she’ll just ignore the jerk.

But the rules of Endurance Island are working against them. Abby and Dean are teamed up – alone – on the beach. It’s either work together, or go home. Stuck with no one else’s company but their own, they learn they do make a good team after all. And that with just a little bit of kindling, the flames of hate can quickly turn to flames of passion…

This book features enemies, lovers, enemies who become lovers, and lots and lots of tropical heat.

#

Right now it's available on Nook and Kindle. If you're international, I'm going to try and get it up on Smashwords this weekend if at all possible, so please be patient with me.

Length: 59,000 words

Update for HEAT - 90% sure that the title will be changed to BEAUTY DATES THE BEAST. I like it because it's fun and frisky, much like my stuff! What do you think? There's some other stuff going on with BDTB and as soon as I have stuff to share, I will keep you all posted.

Update for Succubus #4 - right now I'm calling this SUCCUBI ARE FOREVER. And I have one chapter written. And I will have more info on it soooooon, my pretties. Soon.

Update on Kindle Projects - Okay, so those that follow my journal and have for a long time know that I try to keep a project going at all times. AT ALL TIMES. This means that a lot of stuff that I write never makes it to New York or my publisher. Sometimes I'm not happy with the way a project turns out because I'm really picky. Sometimes I'm waiting on revisions. Sometimes I start something and never finish it. I have a 'crap I need to finish' folder that's getting larger than it should. And sometimes I finish something and it's just not right for NY publishing. Maybe it's only 55k instead of the 85k+ it should be. Maybe it's a weird genre. Maybe it's both. Anyhow, I have a few projects that have sat on my computer for a long time while I pondered what to do with them. MIRRORLIGHT was one, and I ended up Kindle-ing it. It's actually done really well and I'm really happy with it, so I'm going to Kindle a few more things. Starting with...

My conquistadors and dinosaurs book. I always talk about this one as my 'weird' project but it's really not THAT weird. I've always been fascinated by the Bermuda Triangle, and for Nanowrimo one year, I decided to write a Bermuda Triangle book. What if this chick's plane goes down in the Bermuda Triangle and she's stranded on a deserted island? Except the island is not so deserted? It's full of dinosaurs and neanderthals and bugs the size of her arm. It's a place where time doesn't exist properly, and those that are shipwrecked there end up staying for longer than they anticipated. It also has a rather sexy Spaniard for a hero. This book is just a hair under 60k, and it's sweet and romantic and fun (I think). So I stuck it up on Kindle and Nook. BEHOLD THE MANTITTY GREATNESS:

Now, my husband was not thrilled to make a mantitty cover for me, but he did a spectacular job, I think! Anyhow, if you want to read ISLAND HEAT, it's available on Nook and Kindle for $2.99 and I hope you enjoy it. There's an excerpt (a short one!) on both the Amazon and B&N pages if you click. This weekend, I'm going to take a stab at getting my stuff up on ARe if you are international and want to read.

(And if you are one of my book blogging peeps and want a review copy, please do let me know.)

But that's an OLD project, right? What am I doing right now, since I find myself between deadlines? Why, I'm working on another Kindle/Nook project. This one is set in the Succubus Diaries universe, but it's not about Jackie. (BLASPHEMY, I know). This one is actually about a woman named Olivia who was once a demimonde courtesan and was turned into a succubus against her will. She hasn't had an easy time of oh, say, the last 120 years because her vampire master has been cruel to her, so she's a little bit more broken and brittle around the edges, and she is totally pulling at my heartstrings. I cannot wait to write a happy ending for her, which sounds totally dippy, but it's true! Anyhow, this one is all ironed out on paper and I'm about halfway done with it. It's probably going to be around 30k long, and it'll be going up on the Kindle/Nook as well. I'm having a lot of fun with it, and even if you don't want to buy it, that's okay! Noah has a role in the story, but it is absolutely not going to be essential to read it to follow along with the regular Succubus Diaries books.
Intrigued? Here's a snippet - let me know what you think! (click on the 'more' tag at the bottom of the post)

***********

They say that desperate times called for desperate measures.

I say they haven’t seen desperate until they’ve been a vampire’s slave for a century or so.

Still, all desperation aside, I wasn’t going to let little things like memories of my master ruin my day. Or the fact that my thong was currently crawling up my ass. Or the fact that my shoes hurt my feet. Today was going to be a good day, dammit.

Because today, I was going to take control of my own freedom, once and for all.

With that thought ringing through my mind, I pushed open the glass door of the enormous office building and entered the lobby of Gideon Enterprises. I even smiled at the receptionist there, who was considerably less thrilled to see me. She stared at my outlandish clothing, blinked a few times, and then had to think for a long moment before she put on a fake smile and spoke. "Can I...help you?”

"Hi there," I said in a cheerful manner as her gaze coasted down my outfit once more. "May I see Noah Gideon? It's kind of an emergency.”

She looked at me with an arch expression and did not even bother to give her screen a cursory glance. "Mr. Gideon is unavailable.”

Well now, that was irritating. “I see. Can I just wait for him?”

“I’m sorry. He’ll be unavailable all day.” She gave me a pointed look.

“Of course,” I agreed. “He’s a busy man.” With that, I gave her a polite smile, then leaned over and brushed my fingers across her forehead, putting her to sleep. Sometimes it was good to be a succubus.

The receptionist slumped forward in her chair, her head tilted to the side and a faint snore escaping her mouth. I leaned over and propped her against the edge of the desk, her cheek cradled on her keyboard. I could have rifled through her memories to find where Noah's office was, but it was just as easy to reach over the desk and jerk the phone toward me, looking at the extension list attached to it. Room 501 - Company President. That would be Noah Gideon.

Pleased with my discovery, I grabbed a visitor's pass off the front desk and headed for the elevator.

The elevator was (thankfully) empty, so I didn’t have to field comments about my choice of clothing. Small blessing. The elevator dinged on the fifth floor and I got out, my heels clacking on the marble floor. I stood in a wide hallway, decorated in corporate motivational posters and muted lighting. Two doors were at the end of the hall, along with another desk – that would be Mr. Gideon’s assistant, if I had to guess. Arming myself with another cheerful smile, I approached the desk.

This time, a man got up from his desk to stop me. He gave me a startled look, gave my clothing a shocked look, and then began to shake his head. "I'm sorry, miss--“

“Oh, it’s no problem,” I assured him, and put him to sleep too. All it took was a touch of my hand. He fell to the ground in a heap and curled up on his side, his face smoothing as he napped. I stepped over him and eyed my choices of doors. One was labeled ‘Sunrise Conference Room’. Cute, but not what I was looking for. I went through the other door instead.

Noah Gideon sat at a large, antique oak desk, a laptop open in front of him. On the wall across the room, a flat screen TV was turned to a financial channel, and the electronic tickertape rolled across the bottom of the screen with the day's stock prices. The large office windows were open behind him, letting in the sunshine and giving a beautiful view of New City in summer.

The sight of the windows open brightened my mood - I loved the sunshine, even more since I'd been deprived of it for so long. Mr. Gideon looked just as I suspected he would - a very large, beautiful man with shoulder-length, tousled blond hair and a very neat, very expensive gray suit.

He glanced up as I entered, frowning. His eyes were blue - not a good sign for me. That meant that the Serim curse would hit very shortly, and I needed to be far away.

I had a reason to be edgy around immortals that needed to slake their needs, after all. And I wasn’t going to stick around for his needs, not if I could help it.

Noah’s eyes focused on my clothing, and his handsome features slid into a frown. "Is this a joke? Did Remy send you?”

A joke? I blanked out for a moment, puzzled at his logic. What was he talking about?

Then I looked down. Oh, right. I’d forgotten how I was dressed.

I had sauntered into his office wearing a French maid outfit. Not by choice, but it was what it was. The skirt was very short and crispy - a bit like a ruffled, sexy tutu. The top was little more than a skintight black baby tee with a deep vee that practically went to my belly-button, made questionably-decent by a teeny tiny white apron. I even wore the jaunty hat that went with the get-up and black platform heels and fishnets. Man, I hated fishnets. Two of my toes had slipped through the holes in the 'net' and had lost circulation hours ago.

No wonder he thought someone sent me – he probably thought I was a hooker. The irony made my mouth twist. "Sorry, no one sent me here to service anyone. I came to talk to you." At his skeptical look, I continued. "I'm Olivia Rhodes. The Serim council told me to come find you. I'm looking for David Thornton. They said you knew where to find him.”

The description:

When Cora Grames is abandoned in England at a haunted castle, she feels very sorry for herself…until she sees the sexy man in the mirror that only appears to her. And when she finds out that she can touch him, he suddenly becomes more than a fantasy. But how can she fight for a man that doesn’t exist in her time?

This novella (19k) includes a man that might be a ghost, a neighbor that might be a fairy godmother in disguise, and possibly sex involving a mirror.

If you read it, please let me know what you think!

First of all, if you haven't already seen this, you can read the first chapter of MY FAIR SUCCUBI over at the Simon & Schuster website. Yay!!

MY FAIR SUCCUBI also got a lovely review over at Katiebabs's Babbling About Books review blog, and she mentions some tricksy things that I included in the book...including a new character.

I also guested over at Parajunkee yesterday, talking about what a day in the life of Jill looks like. Warning - it's kind of sad and lame.

If you haven't already seen this, there's a giveaway of my books over at Patricia's Vampire Notes and I talk a little bit about the mythology of succubi and how I sorta warped it to make my books work.

And there is a BIG giveaway over at All Things Urban Fantasy today! They're giving away all 3 books (3 sets of them!) so check it out.

TWO WEEKS UNTIL RELEASE DAY!!

*runs around in circles*

My husband made me a book trailer for Book 3, MY FAIR SUCCUBI. Check out its glory below:

Isn't that awesome? He is a great husband. I love his art, and if you want to see more of his stuff, check out his website at km245.deviantart.com.