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Currently Browsing: Sunday Snippet
Feb
6

Sunday Snippets #44

Sunday Snippets #44 Taken By Midnight by Lara Adrian Dell Books October 2010 Brock looked every bit as lethal as he had the night he’d come to save her in the city, except instead of the cold malice that had rolled off him in waves that night, now he vibrated with something equally aggressive and intense: desire. All of it centered on her. “You are . . . damn, Jenna,” he rasped, tracing the line of her shoulder, then circling the dusky rose tip of her breast. “You have no idea just how lovely you are, do you?” She didn’t answer him, didn’t really know how. Instead, she moved closer and brought his mouth down to hers in another scorching kiss. Skin against skin, her breasts crushed against the bulky slabs of his chest, Jenna nearly combusted with need. Her heart was hammering, breath racing, as Brock reached down and unfastened the button and zipper fly of her jeans. She caught her lip with her teeth as he slid his hands between the slack waistband and the skin of her hips, then smoothly eased the denim down over her white bikini panties. He sank to his haunches, following the denim’s descent with his hands. He took care around her healing gunshot wound, cautious not to disturb the bandage that wrapped around her thigh. “Is this all right?” he asked, glancing up at her, his deep voice so rough she hardly recognized it. “If there is pain, I can draw it away.” Jenna shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt. Really, it’s okay.” His bright amber eyes shuttered with the fall of his lashes as he turned back to his task. Her jeans removed, he sat back on his heels and gazed at her, stroking his hands up and down the length of her legs. “So, so beautiful,” he praised her, then leaned his head in and pressed his lips to the triangle of white cotton between her thighs, the sole bit of clothing that covered her now. Jenna blew out a shaky sigh as he caught the fabric in his teeth and fangs. With a meaningful look up at her, his hands still caressing her legs, he tugged at the cotton before letting it snap softly back into place against her overheated flesh. He followed it with his mouth, kissing her again, more determinedly now, nudging aside the paltry scrap of material and nuzzling his face deep into the moist cleft of her...
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Jan
30

Sunday Snippets #43

Sunday Snippets #43 Archangel’s Consort by Nalini Singh  Berkley Publishing January 25, 2011 …Come, Elena. I can’t land there. I’ll brain myself. He almost laughed and he had not thought he could do that after the sentence he’d just delivered. I will catch you. That she didn’t question him after that, simply changed trajectory so that she flew into his arms… it broke him. Then it reformed him anew. “Elena,” he whispered into her hair as he crushed her to him. She wrapped her arms around him, his fragile consort with her incredible will and her refusal to surrender. “Tell me,” she whispered. And he, and archangel used to keeping a thousand secrets, told...
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Jan
23

Sunday Snippets #42

Sunday Snippets #42 Ex Appeal by Cari Quinn  Wild Rose Press June 2010 The way things were going, Jenny doubted she’d ever have time for a love life again. Just as well, because she wasn’t looking for a man. Not yet. Maybe not ever, that little annoying voice in her head whispered. It had been whispering ever since yet another failed lovemaking session with Ty had led her to tell him calmly and coolly that maybe things weren’t working anymore. What had he expected her to do? She’d been juiced up, her blood humming. The flameless candle beside the bed had set the mood for romance, and she’d placed the foil packet on the nightstand with the end neatly snipped off for easy access. She’d been primed and eager for action. Then, right when things were getting good, he’d rolled off her and said “this” wasn’t “doing it” for him. She was still mortified a month later. He’d rarely made time for sex anymore to begin with. Somewhere along the way, work had become his lover. His interest in designing comics had far exceeded his interest in her. Still, she’d been hellbent to give him the utmost pleasure and had gone so far as to employ every trick she’d read in Cosmo’s list of 10 Ways to Make Him Beg. Well, he hadn’t begged. He’d barely moaned. It didn’t matter now. They were over. Twenty- seven days ago, she’d told him that they should go their separate ways. He hadn’t argued. Of course not. He’d only looked at her for a long moment, then asked if it would be easier on her if he moved out of their apartment. Before she’d had a chance to answer—or to process that he’d made absolutely no effort to dissuade her—he’d gotten up to...
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Jan
16

Sunday Snippets #41

Sunday Snippets #41 Size Matters by Stephanie Julian Ellora’s Cave Publishing September 2010 Carrie woke to pitch black. She was naked and warm, cocooned between firm, hot silk and soft, warm cotton. No, not silk. Skin. Okay, that was interesting. Not bad, just… She didn’t remember going home from the bar with a guy last night. In fact, she couldn’t remember going to Third and Spruce last night. And this didn’t feel like home. What she did feel was safe. And Carrie always trusted her instincts. Before she’d taken the job with the Journal, her father had praised her ability to assess any situation in seconds. Right now, she sensed the absolute security of her surroundings and the desire emanating from the man—definitely a man—holding her on his lap. What she couldn’t remember was how she’d gotten here. She wriggled a little closer to the guy, felt his arms tighten around her and the hard ridge of his erection press against the bare skin of her thigh. Wow, the guy was huge! Long and thick and… Oh, baby, she really had gotten lucky last night. Turning her head, she reached out with one hand and encountered firm muscle. His arm flexed under her touch as she smoothed her way up to his broad shoulder then trailed her fingertips over his chest. And rubbed her thigh against that enticing organ. Thank God she’d shaved her legs yesterday. The guy groaned into her hair.  “Carrie…” Oh, good. He remembered her name. Too bad she was drawing a blank on his. Didn’t matter. Obviously, she’d gone home with him last night. Maybe she was still a little drunk, not just hung over. But that ache between her legs… Damn it, she wanted sex. Now. The dark closed so tightly around them, she could barely see his outline but she moved both hands up and up his body until she finally reached his face. Wow, he must be really tall and she meant really tall because she was no slouch. At five-ten—without heels which she wore anyway because she looked damn good in them—she typically had a few inches on most men. And of course, she was the kind of girl who liked her men big and strong. Which made sense of why she’d gone home with this one. Stubble roughened his broad jaw, sending a shiver of lust through her and causing her to rub against his cock again. God, she loved to hear men...
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Jan
9

Sunday Snippets #40

Sunday Snippets #40 Love My Way by Bridget Midway Publisher: Phaze Books November 2008 “I don’t want this man’s affections. Why would I want to be a part of this show?” “You could promote your dancing and get tons of work from the exposure. Plus, as I alluded to before, you can last in this competition for as long as you like. Want to leave out of the first round? Do something to get disqualified like admit you’re an actress. He is adamant that he wants no actresses. My suggestion is that you do everything you can to hang in the game until you reach the top three or four. Then, start pulling back so that you can be eliminated. Or maybe you want to win.” “And why would I want to do that?” “To give him the treatment he gave you at the auditions. To stand up for those of us who want so badly to put this man in his place in a public forum. You can do that. Win, then dump his ass right on TV. Revenge is a dish best served cold.” Ananda wasn’t a vindictive person, but the lure of exacting revenge on the asshole who’d refused to recognize her talents did skip through her thoughts. “I don’t know. That’s really not my style.” “Okay, let me tell you the prizes. You’ll get trips, a car with a driver, your own American Express Black Card.” Ananda blinked. “An Am Ex Black Card? What’s that?” Darnell must have known. He dropped his bags and fell to the floor in one of his classic over-the-top faints. Ananda turned her back on him. “It’s one of their most prestigious cards. You would be expected to dress a certain way and keep Mr. Morton happy. You would also be getting jewelry, a cash prize, and you would stay in the mansion for at least one year, even if it doesn’t work out.” “How much is the cash prize?”  “Last I heard, it was up to five million dollars.”  “Five mil—” Ananda stopped herself. Her dear friend had just lifted himself from the floor. News that she could win that much cash would make him drop to the floor and twitch with convulsions. “All of that to be his girlfriend?” Carter cleared his throat again. Ananda sat on the edge of the ratty sofa. “You would be more than just his girlfriend. I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not....
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Dec
26

Sunday Snippets

Sunday Snippets Dear Friends: Sunday Snippets will be on a 2 week hiatus during the Christmas and New Year holidays.  It will return on January 9, 2011. I look forward to sharing with you a peek at some wonderful books in the upcoming year. Thanks and Happy...
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Dec
19

Sunday Snippets #39

Sunday Snippets #39 Stormwalker by Allyson James I rested my forehead on the table. “How did you get to be sheriff when you have PTSD?” I knew I shouldn’t have asked such a dangerous question, but I didn’t have the energy to care. “Because I do the job better than anyone else,” Nash answered. I believed him, somehow. “I haven’t had an episode in a year.” “Not since Amy.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d just blown any chance of getting out of here today. I peeled open my eyes and looked up, wincing when I saw Nash’s gray ones. “You give up this so-called investigation and go home,” he said in a hard voice, “or I’ll bust you for fraud and expose you for the con artist you are.” I started to answer that I had the right to live in any town I wanted to, but my stomach decided just then to punish me for the night of storm magic. I pressed my arm over my abdomen, but it didn’t help. I staggered to my feet and made it to the trash can in the corner before my morning coffee and a gob of bile came up. “Damn it, Begay–” Nash’s diatribe was cut off by a deputy outside saying quickly and worriedly, “You can’t go in there.”  The door banged open, and a man shouldered his way in, shoving aside the deputy who tried to get in his way. He was six-feet-six of solid muscle in jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots, had a silver earring dangling from one ear, and dragon tattoos snaking down both arms. His hair was black, the wild curls of it just contained in a ponytail. He had the blues eyes I’d ever seen, and I vividly recalled staring into them the night I lost my virginity. My mouth formed the name, “Mick,” at the same time Nash rose to his feet and aimed his nine-millimeter right and Mick’s head. “Stop.” Nash might as well have tried to stop a freight train. Mick came on. “I said, stop.” Nash’s voice was ice-hard. He might have scared the hell out of insurgents in Iraq, but he didn’t know Mick. Mick ignored him, and Nash fired. The sound exploded in my head. I screamed. The bullet hit Mick in the shoulder, and he grunted with the impact, but it barely slowed him down. He made it to me...
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Dec
12

Sunday Snippets #38

Sunday Snippets #38 Ghost Town by Rachel Caine The Founder sighed and sat back in her chair, and it seemed to Claire as if she became a different person. One who was irritated and unhappy and sad. Hannah and Richard sat down, too. After a moment, Amelie continued. “Claire, this is a very unfortunate situation. You know that don’t you?” Claire nodded, thinking, It’s really damn unfortunate for me.  But she didn’t say it. “Having just harshly sentenced Kyle, I can now afford to show leniency toward you. There are mitigating factors — you were definitely acting in defense of your own life, and all of the witness statements support it. The vampire you staked was known to be extraordinarily violent, and we have been considering for some time what to do to restrain her appetites; you have removed this problem for me, and although I can’t be seen to celebrate this, I must acknowledge that you did me a service in this matter. Again.” Amelie’s long white fingers tapped the table in a little dry clicking rhythm, and her eyes went half-closed as she stared at Claire. Finally, she looked to Richard Morrell. “What say you?” “She acted in self-defense. Its unusual, but there are plenty of precedents — I did it myself once, and you found that what I did was justified.  I don’t support any kind of punishment for her.” Amelie looked at him for several long beats after he’d finished, and neither of them blinked. She turned her attention to Hannah. “And you?” “Not guilty,” Hannah said. “You changed the rules in Morganville. You gave humans rights to defend themselves, even if it cost vampire lives. Claire was within the law to do what she did, and she saved her own life and the lives of at least some of the people in that room.” Amelie closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “I’d have preferred you to use nonlethal methods in your heroic defense, but I cannot deny that there is right on your side. On mine, there is only tradition, but tradition is a very powerful force to vampires. It will be quite difficult to convince them that you shouldn’t join young Kyle in the cage. Oliver already cast his vote. I will be obliged to overrule...
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Dec
5

Sunday Snippets #37

Sunday Snippets #37 Black Wings by Christina Henry “Mrs. Luccardi, you’re dead,” I said.  “You can’t take care of your cats anymore. Someone else will have to do that now.” I fought the urge to cover my nose as I said this. Mrs. Luccardi was recently deceased and therefore immune to the reek of cat piss that permeated her doily-covered living room, but I was very much alive and getting tired of breathing through my mouth. Aside from my burning need to breathe air unscented by eau de cat urine, I had two other pressing reasons for getting Mrs. Luccardi out of there. First, I had a potential tenant coming to look at the empty apartment in my building in twenty minutes, and I didn’t want to piss off a possible source of income by showing up late. Second, some of Mrs. Luccardi’s precious darlings were contemplating her cooling body with “buffet” in their eyes. I did not want Mrs. Luccardi to see her babies gnawing through her flowered housedress to flesh and bone. That kind of thing tends to traumatize the newly dead and prevents and Agent from an efficient escort to the Door. If the soul doesn’t enter the Door, then it becomes a ghost. Agents don’t like ghosts. They’re untidy. The presence of a ghost means you can’t close your list, and if you can’t close your list, you have to file extra paperwork to explain why you can’t, and I absolutely hate doing any paperwork at all, period. So I really wanted Mrs. Luccardi to leave her carnivorous little fuzzballs and come with me, pronto. GIVEAWAY: I will be giving away one (1) copy of Black Wings by Christina Henry starting tomorrow, along with my review of the book.  Contest is open to United States residents/mailing addresses only. Contest starts Monday December 6, 2010 and runs until December 9, 2010 at 9:00 PM EST. Winner will be selected using random.org and announced on my blog on December 9, 2010.  Be sure to check back on Monday and enter the...
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Nov
28

Sunday Snippets #36

Sunday Snippets #36 She Wolf by Teresa D’Amario Paperback Release Date: November 30, 2010 Anna opened her eyes and found herself staring into the darkest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Kieran. “Let me go. Don’t touch me,” she shrieked. Pushing away from the ground with her hands, she skittered backward to escape him. He didn’t follow, so she stopped after a few feet. “I won’t hurt you. Let me take you to your car.” She knew that tone. She used it herself when working with abused animals. Calm control, intended to ease fears and establish trust. “You….” The word faded into a wince, and she wrapped her arms across her bruised ribcage. “You aren’t human.” He shook his head and took a step closer. Her nostrils flared, scenting him. Buried beneath the calm strength he presented lurked something darker, hungrier. Lust. It burned brightly, calling to her. And to her surprise, her body responded. Heat coursed through her veins, constricting her lungs. She shook her head, struggling to clear it. “What are you?” He shrugged. “My name is Kieran. And I’m here to help. Let me get you to your car.” Anna stared at the hand he held out. She drew his scent into her lungs. Exotic and tantalizing. Her pulse slowed, and her fear seeped away, absorbed by the concrete she sat upon. Only confusion remained. Someone must have slipped something into her drink. It was the only answer that made sense. But boy, whatever it was, it packed a punch. Surreal images flooded her mind, and she shoved them away. They weren’t real. Anna took a deep breath and let it out, slowing the renewed pounding of her heart. Hesitantly, she reached for the extended hand. Their skin touched, and electricity zinged between them, right through her fingertips straight to her heart. She yanked her hand back, clutching it in her other palm. His eyes widened, but his mouth curved in the hint of a smile. Huh. He seemed as surprised as she. But he didn’t retreat. His palm remained out, waiting. Uncertain, she placed her hand in his. Again, the current ran through her body, but she didn’t pull away. Nerve endings that before lay dormant sizzled to life, and her skin suddenly craved his touch, his heat. Anna gasped and struggled to hide her building desire as the man helped her up. “Who are you?” she whispered. “A friend.” His voice was deep, almost a growl. She liked...
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