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I'm turning my blog over to Jaydyn Chelcee for the weekend (Friday-Sunday). Take it away Jaydyn Chelcee!
Good Morning Readers,
Welcome to the Villain-Tines Blog Hop. As an author, we almost always have a villain, the hero or heroine’s worst enemy. As a writer, you have to have a pretty good understanding of what makes your villain tick. Is he/she going to be the character everyone loves to hate, or will there be sympathy for what turned an ordinary human being or magical creature into the villain it becomes? One of my most villainous characters is Smitt Davis, a vicious serial killer from the Montana men Series. I thought I’d take the time to ask this character a few questions, see if we can learn a few things about why he chose a life of crime. Enjoy!
1. Why do you hate the hero/heroine? Well, I tell you, I had my bodies all set up nice and neat. I was just waiting until I found the right women to place at my left and right at the dinner table. Then Danger and Lacey came along and interfered with all my plans, moving out the bodies, sending them off for autopsies. What’s a serial killer supposed to do after that?
2. Did you have a good childhood? I had a terrible childhood. I saw my mother murdered by her mother. Then my grandmother took over my raising. She ruled with a cold, harsh hand. No wonder I turned into a serial killer.
3. Have you ever been arrested? What for? No. So far I’ve managed to avoid the law. I have to admit, having Danger on my tail is a bit daunting though.
4. Are you simply misunderstood or just plain mean? I have to admit, I’m just plain mean. I enjoy my role as a serial killer.
5. Do you think your life justifies your actions? Oh, yes.
6. Do you own a gun? Certainly. What decent serial killer wouldn’t own a gun? Of course, I much prefer a knife. I just love carving up my victims.
7. Have you ever killed anyone? Sssh. That isn’t something I want to discuss at this moment the readers, you know. They tend to get a queasy at detail like that.
8. Do you care that readers may despise you? Oooh, I wouldn’t be doing my job if the readers don’t hate me, now would I?
9. Do you think your name should be in the title? Or is it already? No, it isn’t, but then, it isn’t really my story. It’s Danger and Lacey’s. I just support their story and make it more interesting.
10. Did the author give you enough space in the book to tell your story? In book one, In the Arms of Danger, she mainly hints at my existence, but in book two, No Holds Barred, she gives the reader more insight to my character and just how evil I am.
11. Do you plan to make an appearance in another of this author’s books? As the saying goes, I’ll be back!
Here's the Blurb followed by an Excerpt:
Every woman needs a little danger in her life, but what's perilous about a wildlife shoot in the beautiful Montana wilderness? Armed with only a camera, Lacey Weston treks through the rough terrain and captures more on film than she bargains for—the murder of a young woman.
Fearing for her life, Lacey flees the scene and stumbles straight into the path of a man who strongly resembles the murderer. Is Sheriff Danger Blackstone, with his piercing gray eyes and rugged physique, be the man in her undeveloped pictures?
With nowhere else to run and hide, Lacey must decide if she dares to trust her life to the only person who can protect her, one whose apparent grudge against white females makes him less than approachable—the very man she suspects of murder.
A suspenseful romance—packed with action, hard-bodied cowboys, and long, hot nights—gives a whole new meaning to the Wild West.
EXCERPT/IN THE ARMS OF DANGER/R-RATED
A scowl darkened his face as he tore at the flaps. “Coming in,” he announced and entered the tent. Clenching his fists in frustration, Danger froze the instant he straightened and saw Lacey.
She stood across from him holding a towel in front of her. It didn’t take long to realize she was naked behind that miniscule barrier. Her eyes were big, gold pools of light. Her breasts rose and fell behind the terry cloth.
Danger swallowed hard. His gaze zeroed in on the rounded fullness he knew lay there. “Damn it, Lacey. I said I was coming in.”
“I know.” She gave a little shrug and dropped the towel. It floated to the nylon floor and landed near her bare feet. His gaze followed its descent and for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off her toes. Those intriguing, bright pink toenails held his attention. Oh, shit. Now he knew he’d lost his mind. He’d never had a fetish for toes, painted or otherwise.
Slowly, he slid his gaze up past her slender ankles, her knees, up her thighs where a row of healing stitches followed the line of her inner thigh. He settled his gaze on the intriguing nest of honey-blonde curls. Danger swallowed hard before moving on to the concave of her belly, the tiny turned in navel, past the little mole just beneath her right breast he’d discovered when he’d stripped her before and finally to her up-tilted breasts where her pink-as-strawberries nipples tempted and invited. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
Lacey stood there, head bowed, her skin flushed bright pink.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
She raised her head, her eyes questioning.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. You’re beautiful.” Danger reached for the top button on his jeans.
“Let me,” she whispered, her cheeks pink and a hint of shyness in her voice. She moved to stand in front of him, a little hesitant. “I want to undress you. I want to touch you all over, kiss you all over.”
His breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat and no words formed on his tongue. He nodded certain he’d never be able to speak again. Her fingers trembled against his belly. She fumbled with the button on his jeans, looked up, licked her lips. “It’s already unbuttoned.”
He nodded, his lungs aching for air.
She moved to the next button working it through its slot. The backs of her fingers brushed the tip of his erection. Jesus, if she took much longer he’d die standing here. He gripped her shoulders. “Lacey.” He growled her name.
“What?” Her eyes widened. “What?” she whispered again.
He lowered his head and anchored his mouth against hers. She shuddered. Her fingers curled into his biceps and she leaned into the kiss, accepted the penetration of his tongue, a hot, wet mating with hers.
“Mmm.” Lacey’s eyes fluttered shut. He nibbled at her mouth with a leisurely thoroughness that intoxicated. There was no hurry. No need to rush. He simply relished the delicious taste of her mouth.
He tightened his hands on her waist and tugged her closer. There was no space now between their bodies. Hardness pressed against softness. Male against female. Invitation given and accepted.
Danger moved restlessly. He stroked the pads of his thumbs across her tight nipples, skimmed his fingers down her back and cupped the curves of her buttocks. He loved the feel of her skin, so soft and smooth beneath his fingertips. “Touch me, Princess,” he whispered against her mouth. He worked off his jeans then brought her hands to his hard shaft. “I’m dying for your touch. I need to feel your hands on me.”
He captured her hand and brought it to the hard, swollen ridge pressed tautly against her belly. He looked down at her slender fingers wrapped around his aching cock. The broad head of his penis filled her hand. He heard her stunned gasp at his size. He was thick, too thick for her fingers to reach completely around.
“I don’t think we’ll fit,” she said. She licked her lips and eyed his jutting cock with doubt. “You — you’re so —”
“We’ll fit,” he whispered against her ear and closed his hand over hers, guiding her smooth strokes up and down the hard length of his aching shaft. “I’ll go easy, we’ll fit.’’
“You kissed me,” she said and cupped the spongy sac at the base of his burgeoning cock. “After the little incident with the rattlesnake, you kissed me. I haven’t been the same since.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah? Mmm, don’t stop, sweetheart. That feels good.”
“Twice!” she accused, sounding a little breathless. “You kissed me twice, maybe even three times. I lost count.” She gently squeezed the nuggets, halted the stroking that was driving him insane and walked a fingertip up the endless length of his shaft.
“Yeah,” he breathed huskily. “So I did, Princess, but those weren’t kisses. Not real kisses and certainly not the kind I want to give you. Think of them as appetizers.” He moaned when she explored the tip of his shaft, smoothing a finger over the head and catching the pearly drop of fluid there. “And my appetite has barely been whetted.”
She caught her bottom lip with her teeth in that sexy way that drove him nuts. He gasped as she continued to explore his cock with hesitant fingers. His eyes darkened with warning. “Harder,” he instructed. “I won’t break. And if you expect gentle, little cat, you’ve chosen the wrong man.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “I’m not gentle, Lacey. I don’t know how to be. Tenderness is something I’ve lacked in my life for more years than I care to remember.” He moaned, moved against her hand like a rising swell. “I’m as savage as I look. I like my sex hot, hard, and deep.”
Lacey swallowed hard, her eyes round. A hint of red tinged her cheek bones.
“Be very sure you want this, little cat, because if I touch you, make you mine, there’s no going back. I won’t go back.” “I don’t want to go back. I want you; so much I can barely stand it. Make me yours, Danger.”
His breath chugged out in a long, slow hiss. “Jesus, Lacey, I’m giving you the chance to say no. Take it now, while I can still stop.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not asking you to stop.”
“Good. I won’t. I told you, I won’t. If we start this, we finish it. I’ve waited forever for you to come into my life. I’m not going back to just existing and marking time on the calendar.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” she breathed.
Jaydyn Chelcee has spent most of her life in Oklahoma, but at the same time, she’s traveled extensively, at least in the western half of the United States. One of her favorite settings in her contemporary western romances is Montana. She’s the author of the best selling Montana Men Series, In the Arms of Danger, No Holds Barred, Too Close to the Fire, and Playing For Keeps.
Coming soon from Secret Cravings publishing: WILD, book five of the Montana Men Series.
Available now from Secret Cravings Publishing: Extended release of Witch’s Brew and Witch’s Heart, books one and two of the Winslow Witches of Salem Series written under Tabitha Shay.
All current releases available at Amazon.com
Buy links: http://www.tabithashay.blogspot.com
Please leave a comment for a chance to win an E-copy of the extended version of In the Arms of Danger. Be sure you leave a way we contact you as well.
Click on a link to check out the other interviews!
Drake and Kady arrive at Kady's apartment after their first date. Immediately her thoughts go to finding Precious, the Yorkie that is Drake's animal persona:
That’d work too. I entered the sweet scented place under laid by essence of dog, noticeable only to shape shifters. She called after the little guy.
“Leave him be,” I said. “He had a long day supervising me.”
“No, I should find him.” She headed in the direction of her room.
“May I use the bathroom?” I shouted after her, turning toward the guest bath before she answered. Inside I started the vent fan to cover any noise I made, left the door slightly ajar, and stripped, emerging as Precious. I bumped the door closed, but not latched, and trotted toward Kady’s increasingly desperate voice calling after me.
“Oh, baby, my precious baby,” she gushed with happy relief. After a pause, she shouted in the direction of the closed bathroom door. “I found him, Drake.” At the absence of response, she shrugged, returning attention to the small canine face looking up from the floor.
Waiting until she went to use the main bathroom, I morphed back to Drake, redressed, and flushed the toilet, returning to the living room.
“I thought you may have fallen in,” she remarked at my arrival.
_Secret Cravings Publishing celebrates one year
Come join us in the fun and win some great prizes*...From Secret CravingsFirst prize - Kindle Fire ~ Second prize - Amazon GC $50 ~ Third prize - SCP GC $25
Every participating author is having their own give-way, so make sure to stop by every blog and comment for more chances to win.
YOU MUST comment on EVERY blog over the next month to be eligible for the main prizes listed above- no purchase is necessary and please leave your email address. SPECIAL during the SCP Blog Hop Anniversary. For those who leave comments on the blogs, they'll receive a 25% off coupon for the SCP website. All purchases during the contest time will receive 10% off purchases on the website.
From December 16, 2011 through January 19, 2012 visit the below listed author's blogs and websites for your chances to win great prizes.
Please comment, leave your name and email address for your chance to win a copy of My Life as a Dog. Winner will be drawn by random.org on December 31, 2011. For entry into the Grand Prize from SCP your same entry will be added and winner selected after January 19, 2012.
_BLURB: for “MY LIFE AS A DOG”:
Drake Martin is a unique shape shifter. Instead of transforming into a ferocious animal, he morphs into an eight pound Yorkshire terrier. Six year old Kady Hartley rescued him from an animal shelter. As "Precious" he was her "bestest friend" for twelve years, leaving when she started college. Ten years later they cross paths. He’s a PI; she’s FBI. Continuing to keep his abilities secret from her, he follows Kady as she pursues a case. Accompany them on an odyssey to New Orleans investigating human traffickers and watch the fur fly. To protect Kady, Drake remains in the shadows. For her sake he puts aside his loner life and accepts protection and assistance of the local shifter pack under its leader, the Sufi. The pack and Drake soon discover they have a common cause, leading to a bloody confrontation with the Russian human traffickers. During the adventure, will Drake and Kady rekindle their loving friendship or will it become much more?
EXCERPT: Yorkie Shifter's Fateful Meeting
“Mommy, Daddy, can we get him,” the six-year-old girl exclaimed, pointing at me, the caged mess of matted tan and silver fur with beady black eyes. I returned her gaze with my best guileless, head cocked to one side expression, as if asking a question. The mother moved a plump cheeky face toward me for a closer look. “Oh, he’s so scruffy,” she said. “I thought you wanted a big dog, one you could play with.” The father’s arm remained around the girl’s narrow shoulders. “Honey, Mom’s right. You said you wanted a Lab like your friend Tommy has. This little guy won’t run around in the yard with you.” Then, turning to the shelter volunteer he asked, “What kind of dog is it, anyway?” “He’s a Yorkie, a Yorkshire terrier, purebred too. Clean him up and he will be beautiful.” Unhitching a leash from the wall, she lifted me from the cage to the floor. “Yorkies are a popular breed and live a long time. Your daughter will be able to grow up with him.” Winking at me, because I had her eating out of my paw since Monday, she added, “See how he prances around. Yorkies are so full of spirit. I just love him to pieces. I’d take him home myself but we already have two cats and two dogs. My husband would leave me if I brought home another pet.” Four feet tall, sandy hair, blue eyes, and a breath smelling of lemon drops nodded, making up her mind. “He’s the one I want.” That’s how my life changed in a split second. I’m Drake Martin, part-time hit man, most of the time private eye, lover, and shape shifter. This is the story of my life as a dog and the little girl named Kady Hartley who changed it forever.
Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADvZ1EEN21U
_Setting the Scene: In human form Drake spied on an apparent brothel for his client, a suspicious wife. When his surveillance equipment wouldn’t work, he decided to morph and use his wiles as the Yorkie to gain entrance…
Before morphing, I took a last longing look at the equipment and clothes put at risk by a necessary and, hopefully, brief abandonment.
Not the most pleasant of feelings, transformation is something like free falling down a hole to the center of the earth at half the speed of light with every cell aching. A deep crunching sound fills the air as joints compress or elongate as well as reverse, according to the kind of animal you become. Near the end a red curtain blots out everything in a vertiginous haze. Fortunately, it’s over in a few seconds.
After things cleared and almost six feet closer to ground level, I shook out the new coat I’d acquired and tip-tapped across the street with a signature Yorkie prancing gait of unbridled confidence. The empty SUV and deserted front lawn basked in the bright noonday sun. At the front door, I checked to insure no one could see, and returned to human form long enough to ring the doorbell. The door opened to the sight of an alert, small dog sitting on his haunches. Two imploring black eyes peered from beneath a curly overhang of tan fur. A faint, under the breath, whimper accompanied by a cowering, whole body shiver completed the sales pitch. The large heavyset man dressed in a dark suit spent a few seconds assessing my proffer from a vantage point that seemed a mile in the air. Behind him, strung out down a long hallway, a half dozen scantily dressed young women turned resigned eyes my way in routine curiosity.
Six year old Kady Hartley rescued Drake Martin, Private Eye and Yorkie shape shifter, from the animal shifter. He has every intention of deserting the little girl for life as a street wise loner when, as Precious the Yorkshire terrier he pays her a last visit...
A crushing hug and kiss came next. After releasing me, I did my little head cocked to one side trick that knocks the big girls dead. Kady was unimpressed, more interested in talking.
“I will tell you all my secrets, forever. You are my bestest friend.”
The guileless blue eyes locked on mine. For the first time a human trusted and believed unreservedly in me, a sensation completely alien up until then. Everything came to a head in that moment. The need to respect age and take a sabbatical from my present line of work dovetailed with the proffered security and tranquility of this family, all overlaid by the unbridled love of Kady. She smiled at the tears gathering in my eyes, probably thinking it was normal for dogs, if a six year old thought of such things at all. Trapped in the innocent, azure gaze my resistance dissolved. Without saying another word she invited me into her world, and I gladly accepted.
Copyright © 2011
I waited in the dark for my prey.
Humans always passed this way.
A full moon lit up the path and surrounding meadow beyond the trees with a silvery aura. I squinted hard into the distance and spotted her. She walked fast bent toward the chilly breeze, with strides as long as she could make them. As she approached a willowy woman with dark hair flowing behind that sucked up all the light which appeared, absolutely black in the moonlight came into view. She wore a chiffon dress and the wind pressed the flimsy fabric hard against a lithe young frame. The thin chemise provided no protection from the chill and I wondered why she hadn’t worn a coat or something to guard from the cold.
Only a few yards away and still in the open, I noted brief detail of the face, young and smooth. The moonlight made the oval visage very pale and bloodless with a touch of color on the cheeks. Large, alert, and wary eyes traversed back and forth across the path ahead. The vague and indistinct features reminded me of looking at the worn down image on an old well used coin, but I observed enough. She was prime.
“I am going to enjoy this one,” I thought to myself as she reached the edge of the clearing. Five more seconds and she’d enter the wood.
I had an anticipatory fantasy of how the attack would happen. I would let her pass and cut off retreat, to sweep in from behind. I can reach forty miles an hour at top speed, beyond any human’s hope of, especially a female. She wouldn’t hear my approach until the last second to turn in horror as I fall upon her and take her to the ground.
She has a firm athletic body and is young. Although she will put up a good fight, she has no more chance of escaping than a rabbit has of getting out of a bobcat’s jaws. All this would only serve to heighten my frenzy.
A sharp, startled breath escapes red lacquered lips when she realizes every nightmare and dark fairy tale of childhood is true.
“Oh my God!” she cries out.
I force her head to one side exposing the long white neck. The face is in shadow now, all horrified profile and hysterical gleaming eye. I brush aside some curls of black hair and bite deeply. Rich salty blood gushes hotly down my throat. The struggles gradually subside.
Before dying she silently mouths the word ‘Why,’ in self-reproof, I think, for not believing The Stories.
Now the cooling corpse is lying on the ground limp as a rag doll. I sit back under a tree, relishing the warmth of the blood seeping throughout my body. Satiated, I let out a loud soupy contented belch.
I come out of my reverie to the present.
The prey is twenty yards ahead, well into the wood, time to go. In a second, I am on her. She falls forward with me on top. One of her hands is still free and imparts a hard slap across my face. I rear back from the powerful, smarting blow which allows her time to stand up.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands as the black wig comes off. “This is my hunting ground.”
It is Deidra from the coven.
An Excerpt From "Original Sin"
Paranormal Short Story.
A New Neighbor: The aura and appearance of Lea Jackson immediately attracts Adam Peters. Enthralled, his mind fills with plans to fulfill uncontrollable desire. Considerations for wife and family quickly evaporate.
The Loving Wife: Adam’s behavior is nothing new to Jessie. Facing tumultuous change to marriage and family, she cautions Adam about continuing down the path to adultery. Distracted by Lea’s charms, he ignores her pleas, plunging blindly ahead.
The Aftermath: Lea and Adam consummate their affair. In the afterglow, promises to meet again are exchanged. Adam returns home to a scene, setting the stage for the beginning of an ending.
Adam's First Sight of Lea.
Two cream-colored calves, daintily pressed together at the knees as they rotated into view from the tinted interior, provided the first sight of Lea. A pair of trim sandaled feet planted on the driveway. There followed a flash of blonde hair, the color of beaten gold. She shook out the mane falling over and around a set of straight shoulders. Someone inside the car drew her attention. As she turned to face whoever was there, I got a peek at a sculpted heart-shaped butt.
Quickly, lest I was caught staring, I directed my gaze in another direction, returning to the yard work. The companions, a middle-aged couple, followed her into the house.
Five minutes later, while emptying the grass clippings into a flower bed for mulch, a shadow fell across the ground ahead. “Mr. Peters?” the melodious voice uttered in conjunction with the arrival of jasmine scent.
Profiled by the sun behind, her head was all oval, high cheekbones, and almond-shaped gleaming eye. “Adam Peters,” I replied extending a hand soiled by honest work.
Her long legs filled out and acquired shape. A vivid black pubic triangle filled the space where her thighs joined. From it emanated the rich scent of her new sexuality. How did I not notice the difference between a female lycan’s scent and a human’s? I wondered.
A touch of color brightened Cynthia’s cheeks. “Doctor Jim, I had no idea!” she said dreamily with a flirt in her tone as she assessed me with lycan senses. “I think you’re hot, too.”
. A rich and vibrant white, like marble or porcelain, replaced the dullness, the difference between pasty-skinned zombies from a low budget horror movie and Snow White. Her eyes and hair showed a new depth and shine. The once skeletal face filled out, still lean but not malnourished. The flesh tautly covered handsome bone structure but with a new vitality and substance. Breasts rose from her formerly featureless ribcage, adhering to the saying more than a handful is a waste. Each presented a firm delta topped by a hard dark nipple, like a black cherry on a scoop of vanilla ice cream. A curve of hip projected from the waist. Her long legs filled out and acquired shape. A vivid black pubic triangle filled the space where her thighs joined. From it emanated the rich scent of her new sexuality. How did I not notice the difference between a female lycan’s scent and a human’s? I wondered.
A touch of color brightened Cynthia’s cheeks. “Doctor Jim, I had no idea!” she said dreamily with a flirt in her tone as she assessed me with lycan senses. “I think you’re hot, too.”