Coming August 2015 from Evernight Publishing - Resisting His Mate - part of the Bad Alpha Anthology! #PNR #Shifters
Warrick Keaton eludes a forced pairing with one of his kind. No one is going to choose his mate for him, not when he wants nothing to do with being tied down to a woman. He never expects fate to intervene in the form of a freezing, barely alive female. With his independence in jeopardy, Warrick fights his inner hawk's desire to stake a claim on her.
Clare Byron longs to escape her domineering ex-husband, a jealous bear shifter determined to keep her prisoner. She seizes the opportunity to run and lands in the arms of another alpha—exactly what she doesn’t want or need.
For Warrick, Clare is everything he's ever wanted in a mate and all that he's run from.
For Clare, Warrick is freedom in a way she never dreamed possible—the one man who will own her heart yet give her wings to fly.
Spying Neira ferociously defending her fellow passengers, Vayne pursues her, as his Chosen. Neira resists, and despite healing her emotionally the Sovereign wonders if he must concede defeat at the hands of this infuriating woman.
Then the stars align and truths are discovered…
Daggers at the ready, the three pirates once again approached the doors. Vayne spied a young, fair-haired male standing wide-eyed, his mouth dropping open as Barek, Duff and their Captain charged from the lift. Vayne followed on their heels, wincing as they mowed the young man down with a hit to the head. Then all chaos descended.
A significantly smaller figure, dressed completely in black, waded into the triangle of pirates. It laid Barek low with well-placed blows to his knees and an uppercut to his jaw as he fell to the ground. The baton inflicting the punishment flashed in a blur of movement to match the warrior’s whirling grace. Vayne was already moving to assist when the fighting dervish dealt with Duff, body moving with grace and deadly intent, bringing the pirate down with punishment to his kidneys. Short black hair gleamed in the harsh lighting as the warrior spun to take on Captain Ristos.
Vayne used his shocker, nearly catching one slender, black clad shoulder as their opponent made contact with Ristos’ ribcage, the baton making a dull, wet sound. But the little warrior whirled out of range, turning to renew the attack, and the bolt spent itself harmlessly against the bulkhead. Vayne’s cock filled and stood at full attention, causing him considerable discomfort in his tight-fitting space uniform. By the shades of Turco, it was a female. He locked eyes with orbs a brilliant shade of the golden gemstones so prized on his planet before she charged, moving gracefully on the balls of her bare feet.
“He dies!” Duff’s howl cut through the tension as Vayne prepared to defend himself, and the female halted, stumbling as she did so. Duff held his weapon at the young male’s throat, vicious intent written across his features.
“No, don’t,” the lithe beauty called out, and Vayne watched, transfixed, as she dropped to her knees, carefully laying down the lethal weapon she used so efficiently. She then clasped her hands behind her neck.
Nothing in her posture spoke of true submission, but it didn’t matter to Vayne’s cock. That appendage throbbed painfully and he was at a loss as to how to calm it. Never had he ever… Vayne struggled to make his body move. Ristos moved first.
Kicking aside the baton, he gestured to Duff, who released his hold on the still-unconscious young male. Was this woman attached to the man? Vayne shook his head. It didn’t matter. She was now his.
Ristos bent and clipped a pair of solar cuffs around the woman’s wrists, and Vayne approved of how efficient the captain was, yet afforded the little female respect. He wasn’t the only male to appreciate her attempt to defend this deck. The restraints emitted slight whirring sounds as they engaged. Charged by any light source, they were virtually impervious to tampering and would open only to the owner’s print. Vayne pulled the control from the captain’s hand, entered his own print to replace that of Ristos’, then crushed the control beneath his boot.
As desperate as the Shadalla were, their scientists had confirmed the compatibility of Earth females to breed and bear their children, and some of his species’ males had actually found their chosen. Gone was Vayne’s need to merely pick a female out of the women on this ship, using careful parameters to ensure she was suited for his position, able to bear his children, and of a nature and appearance to stimulate his desires in order to put those offspring in her belly. Royal concubines weren’t unheard of, after all, and the odds of him finding a chosen were slight. But he couldn’t look any further, impossibly drawn to this imperious warrior at his feet. And should he ever be fortunate enough to find an actual chosen mate, this lovely woman would retain concubine status, regardless.
“Bring the men out. Offer. I’ll send my exec to scrutinize the females.” He wasn’t that overwhelmed to forget he had a duty to other men in his service.
He reached down and fit a hand under the elbow of the female, and his world turned upside down. The physical attraction had been immediate, granted. But the instant he touched her and her scent enveloped him, his brain exploded with a revelation he’d only experienced once in his life—and a very subdued and pale version at that. One manipulated by science. Vayne didn’t need another minute with her to understand the symptoms and wished to shout his joy out loud. She was a chosen and not his future concubine. She came up with the lightness of gossamer, and only his quick reflexes saved him from a knee to the groin as he turned to catch the blow on his thigh. Little spitfire.
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.
1. Are you a pantser or a plotter? I’m definitely a pantser. I can probably count on one hand (with fingers left over) the amount of times I’ve plotted out my books. I think it reminds me too much of forced outline writing in college! I like to just sit down with music and write until I stop. Or fall asleep (FYI: kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk does not count as novel writing, haha).
2. What authors have inspired you to write? I am inspired by the passion and commitment of JK Rowling and her ability to create entire worlds with their own laws, rules, games, and forces or good an evil. Robert A. Heinlein inspires me with the foresight and creativity he showed science fiction in 1950s and 1960s. And, of course, George R.R. Martin inspires me with this spunk, sass, and commitment to writing the way he wants to write.
3. How important are names to you in your book? For me, naming a character is like naming a child. You’re going to be with this person for the entirety of your book/series. Try going outside and yelling the character name over and over again. If you don’t get sick of it, that’s the name you should go with. This is also how my husband and I named our second child.
4. Is there a certain type of scene that’s hard for you to write? I’m bad with sex scenes. For the sex scene in the first historical novel I wrote, I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the screen while I typed.
5. What is With Me Now about? With Me Now is about Madison Monroe, a college student on her first archeological dig. She’s working in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and finds something buried on the battlefield she didn’t expect to find.
6. How much research did you do? I’ve been Civil War reenacting since 2001 and met my husband at Gettysburg, so I’m very familiar with every nook and cranny of the battlefield. In 2004, my husband and I were volunteers at Harpers Ferry National Historical Park in the living history department. For approximately two days, I worked on an archeological dig and, from that, this novel was born. Most of the research I did was archeological terminology and techniques of speaking/interacting with ghosts.
7. What writing advice do you have for aspiring authors? Never quit. It’s too easy to get frustrated: with writing, editing, submitting, rejection. If this is what you want, work for it! Believe in your idea and your writing.
8. What are you working on now? Right now, I’m working on the sequel to With Me Now, toying around with two other paranormal romances, and one historical. There’s always another Chapter 1!
9. And finally, two just for fun: If you wrote a book about yourself, what would the title be? Probably something along the lines of, “So this happened….”
10. What are five adjectives you feel describe you? Loving, nerdy, awkward, rambunctious, and groovy
With Me Now
The Lazarus Society
by Heather Hambel Curley
Release Date: June 25, 2015
The hot water and steam of the shower was relaxing, enough to kick the butterflies in her stomach into submission. Her muscles ached. The tendons and ligaments in her upper shoulders and back throbbed as if she’d been moving heavy furniture all week instead of throwing her weight against the screen sifter. It was just another brutal reminder that, although she was thin, she was pathetically out of shape.
She stood under the unrelenting water, craning her neck from side to side in an attempt to work the muscles loose. Maybe Mike could crack her back for her. She smirked. Now that was a pickup line she’d have to remember: say, care to get on top and crack my back?
Once the conditioner was rinsed out of her hair, she turned the faucet off and reached for a towel. Her hair was getting long. It seemed like she’d need to use two or three of the thin, white hotel towels to sop up the excess water. No matter, she could resort to using the room’s hair dryer and, in forty-five minutes or so, the feeble little machine might get her hair dry. Damn it, of all the things to leave at home. She hadn’t planned on needing to look as attractive and desirable as humanly possible. If she had, she’d have brought along a better selection of makeup.
She towel dried her hair enough to keep water from trickling down her back, and then wrapped another towel around her body. It was a good thing she’d done a load of laundry the previous day. Not that she had “date” quality outfits with her, but she was fully aware which pair of jeans accentuated her curves the best. She pulled on a red vintage style t-shirt emblemized with a grayed out Union Jack. It was casual and cute, though she was reasonably sure her clothes were the last thing on his mind.
The steam from the small bathroom had filtered out into the sink area, fogging up the mirror and giving everything a generally damp feeling. She wiped her hand across the condensation covered mirror. In the unobstructed reflection she could see a figure, a man, standing directly behind her.
She bit back a shriek and jerked around. There was no one there; the room was empty.
“Shit.” The words felt as if they bubbled out of her throat, pushed out by her rapid heartbeat. She gripped the countertop with one hand to steady herself. The reflection in the mirror was clear and crisp. It wasn’t a shadow or the light playing on the steam from the shower. It was a man. It was him, the man who’d been watching her for days. He’d stood and watched her at the Spangler Farm. He’d breathed on the back of her neck, whispered in her ear as she worked in the test pit.
Now he was in her room.
Madison swallowed hard, peering into the main section of the hotel room. It was empty. Nothing was out of place, no one was watching her from any corner of the room; yet, she didn’t feel completely alone. He was still there.
Her hand faltered on the countertop and she sank backward, half sitting, half leaning against the sink. The air in the room felt soupy and stale. Gooseflesh rippled down her still damp arms and across her back. What in Christ’s name did he want from her?
She felt him next to her, his breath on her shoulder. Please.
Could he hear her when she spoke to him? It was worth a try. “I’m not sure I know how to help you.”
But she knew someone who did.
Heather Hambel Curley is a 2004 graduate of Robert Morris University, graduating magna cum laude with a degree in Communications. She’s been writing since the fourth grade, but didn’t get serious with writing until she’s reached her thirtieth birthday (metabolism went down, determination to write went up!). With Me Now is her debut novel and her historical fiction novel, Anything You Ask of Me will be released in August 2015.
Heather currently resides in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and two songs. When she’s not writing or working as a disability claims analyst at an insurance company, she enjoys traveling and training to run 5ks. She also enjoys white wine, One Direction, and getting tattoos.
To purchase book: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/