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Monthly Archives: October 2013
8

Halloween – May the Honeymoon of your Bites Continue!

I remember attending my first RWA Convention in New York several years ago. I sat in on a JR Ward panel discussion about writing Alpha heroes. Her comment was something like this:

Is there anything so exciting, so masculine as a big, dark alpha male vampire?

I sat there blinking, my heart pounding as I realized the answer to that was, “No.”

So this is Halloween. Last day of the month of October, legendary amongst Pagans and Christians alike. Shrouded in mystery, myth and whatever else we want to throw in there – the possibility of danger and the excitement of a new adventure, I'm re-printing the chapter I just love from Honeymoon Bite where the Hero, Marcus Monteleone, meets his long searched for fated female, Anne. What Anne doesn't know is that Marcus is the one who turned her, after he found her left for dead. Since he'd spent 300 years searching for his one fated female, he couldn't just let the life drain from her. And he has been ordered by the Vampire Council to wait 30 days before he can re-contact her. So, she has no clue who he really is, or how her life is about to change forever, in ways she could never imagine.
For those of you from Sonoma County, I wrote this scene in a purple velvet chair in the corner of the Bennett Valley Starbuck's. I can still remember that day.
Enjoy this little tidbit. Love my stepchild of a book that gets no love. At least on Halloween, spend some time with my injured Alpha male vampire and his soon-to-be bride:

“Does your husband know about your appetites?” From behind
Anne came a gravelly male voice that sent shivers down her spine. The screams
of the Starbuck’s espresso machine made her wonder if she’d really heard the
voice. But the male scent of him was impossible to miss. The hairs at her neck
stood at attention, telegraphing urgency. The urgent sensation extended well
beyond her waistline. Time stood still before she could bring herself to turn
around and fall under the warm gaze from this tall dark male that covered her.
Not man. Male.
He held her gaze as she stood, transfixed, unable to move or
to speak. That was the way it felt. Being held. “I’m sorry?” she blurted out
finally.
“Don’t be sorry, my dear. It’s a simple question.” The ends
of his lips curled up at the corners. When he inhaled, his chest extended, and
he appeared several inches taller. Then he exhaled and she was covered with the
same musky scent, incapacitating her, wrapping around her like a warm shroud.
It was familiar.
She heard mournful viola music drip with slides and rifts
that pulled on her heartstrings. She felt dizzy. Did she hear him murmur a
groan? Or maybe it was a small earthquake? Probably an ordinary person wouldn’t
hear or feel it. But she did.
Anne was on alert; this male took liberties with her
feelings.
What a crazy thought.
Ridiculous.
He leaned forward, grazing just the edge of her forearm with
his warm hand. An electric spark pricked her. He leaned against the counter and
looked at the barista, not her. “I’ll pay for the lady’s drink.”
She noticed the strong pulse at his neck. Healthy. Smells wonderful.
“And what would you
like, sir?” The young barista was pert. Anne didn’t like her perfect white
teeth. That and the fact the girl’s shirt was made for a ten-year-old,
showcasing her pierced bellybutton.
“I have all I need.” The rumbling words sparked shivers
again down Anne’s spine. He said it just next to her ear, barely touching the
small of her back . . . He was facing the barista, but deep inside Anne knew
the words were meant for her ears only.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Anne suddenly found the urge
to speak.
“My pleasure.” He removed his hand and gave a slight bow.
A bow? No one had ever done that before. Anne
had just fed. She wasn’t hungry enough to play the game this afternoon, having
gorged herself on a salesman who liked to eat garlic fries. His blood was thick
with fat globules she could almost see as well as taste. But it went down
smooth.
So maybe she would play along. This stranger might be a good
candidate for a snack tomorrow. She had never fed twice in one day. She
wondered what being too full would feel like in her current state. It would
probably make her horny. Well then, maybe she should reconsider. She should do
a wet feeding. That way she wouldn’t have to be too careful, could gorge
herself on him. He’d be wonderful to look at in the shower, and his hands might
do something unexpected to her. Something memorable in a string of unmemorable
feedings.
His hand gently touched the small of her back again, and she
allowed herself to be ushered to a corner table, flanked by two purple velvet
overstuffed chairs. They sat, facing at right angles to each other. The counter
girl called out Anne’s drink. He was up and walking over to pick it up for her before
she had a chance to react.
She watched him cross the coffeehouse like a thirsty
traveler eyeing a pitcher of water. He was probably six foot six. His dark hair
was pulled back in a short ponytail. His black leather bomber jacket showed his
nice ass and those long lanky legs that went all the way to Heaven. Even for
his size, he appeared graceful. Unassuming. Confident. And the nicest looking
male from behind that she had ever seen.
And then he turned, holding the little white paper cup with
two fingers, the other ones splayed out, large as antlers. She could see how
long his fingers were, how substantial. She envisioned what those hands could
do to her. But as sexy as he was, he also made her mouth water to feed.
His prominent jaw line sported blue-black stubble. His
strong pulse would be no problem at all, but she would have to bite a little
harder to crack the skin. Maybe he would let her take him slowly. Then she
could kiss other parts of him in between while his heart pumped more of the
blood she craved. His lips were bright red and full. She would enjoy sucking
them, licking them. Perhaps biting them.
His eyes found their way to hers, and when she met his gaze,
she became self-conscious of her thoughts, as if somehow he could read her mind.
Anne told herself it was her craving for blood that caused the almost sexual
attraction for this male. After she fed, surely she wouldn’t feel this way, she
thought.
He delicately deposited the white cup in her hands. One finger
touched and almost rubbed against hers. She thought she was imagining the
touch, of course. Between her legs, a warm pool had formed. It was a curious
place to feel hunger, a hunger of another kind. She blushed at her erotic
thoughts.
“You like cappuccino?” He seemed intrigued by the idea.
Dancing eyes, all over her upper torso, his breathing steady but deepening.
“Yes. I need the caffeine in the afternoon.”
That little hitch in his throat, almost like a moan of
surprise. “And here I thought your 
cheeks were flushed and ripe from a good
meal.” Those black eyes peered right to her soul. Almost as an afterthought, he
smiled, and the dark became brown, ringed with a coppery color that drew her
in.
I’ll play your game.
“Yes. After a big meal, I get tired sometimes.”
He nodded. “I remember that.”
Anne looked out the window. This was beginning to feel
dangerous. She grabbed her drink and stood. He stopped her by placing one hand
on her wrist. His action was soft, but deliberate. This male won’t be denied.
“Please, sit just a little longer. Then I’ll let you go home
to your husband.”
“Go? You’ll let me go? What kind of talk is that? I think .
. .” She began to rise again, but his firm grip on her forearm stopped her.
“Hear me out just a bit.” He did appear to be begging. Could
it be she saw a flash of pain there? No
way.
“How do you know I’m married?” she snapped out, letting her
impatience show.
“You wear a wedding ring.” He fingered her ring slowly,
sensually. She let him touch her, perhaps a bit too long. She was going to
correct his misconception but decided to leave him thinking she was protected
by another man. Safer that way.
But was she looking for safe?
There was an obvious physical attraction between them. She
had not felt this before, not since before she was made.
“Do I know you?” she asked, ignoring the comment about her
marriage.
“No. Ask it another way.” The huskiness of his voice made
her ears buzz, like he was brushing his lips across them, like they were in bed
whispering unmentionable things to each other.
“Do you know me?” Her eyebrows rose at the ridiculous
suggestion that seemed to be planted in her brain from somewhere else.
He very lightly nodded, his obsidian eyes flashing. “Oh,
yes. I have waited a long, long time for you.”
“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” Anne jumped up, her
coffee in her hand. She slung her purse over her right shoulder and stormed off.
He followed her outside, keeping pace like they were walking in unison. She
stopped suddenly.
“Look. Whoever you are, I will call the police if you don’t
leave me alone.”
“And tell them what?”
“Tell them there is a very strange male following me,
bothering me.”
He groaned again. The ground beneath her feet rumbled when
he did that. “I like that you say male.”
She backed up, raising her palms up and out in his
direction. “Please, please leave me alone.”
“Agree to meet me here tomorrow at this time and I won’t
follow you.” He smiled. “I promise.” He held his hand over his heart. Anne felt
a small tug at her own, as well as an ache down below.
“Alright,” she said, willing herself to say no when her body
wanted to say yes. She’d wrestle with her decision if she could just get away
from him right now. This coffee house would have to be forever off her list. “Tomorrow
at four. But I will call the cops if you don’t stop this, this, way you are being—”
He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her close his chest. She
struggled, but he held her tighter the more she wiggled, and yet she enjoyed
the physical play between them. No matter how hard she fought, he would win. She
softened and heard his sharp inhale. The spice on his cheeks was a familiar
scent to her and, relaxed her just enough so she wouldn’t collapse entirely
being so close to him. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Go for now,
little one. But as for leaving you alone, there isn’t a chance in Hell that
will ever happen. See you tomorrow.”
And then he was gone. Just gone. Nowhere to be found. She
turned around and around and there was no trace of him. No car leaving the
parking lot. No door being opened. Just the normal day all around her.
She was hungry and scared. She liked feeling both emotions
equally.
She knew it was going to be forever until four o’clock
tomorrow.
A feeding would take up the next hour. Only twenty-three
more to go.
Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.

14

Welcome Charlene Wilson: The Transformation of Anna

Thrilled today to welcome my good friend and fellow Ravencraft Romance Realm sister, Charlene Wilson. Don't forget to enter the drawing at the end of this post. Welcome, Charlene!
Thank you for having me on your blog, Sharon. It's always a pleasure to be here. *smile*
Through the rush to meet deadlines, get kids to band and flag line practice, organization meetings, and church (along with the daily Mom and wife and Grandma caregiver things I just have to get done), I find escape in the sheer pleasure of turning the pages of a book and losing myself in the lives of fictional characters. Most especially, the romantic characters! They're able to wisp me a mountain top for an early brunch, or make my heart triple beat as I experience love through their eyes and emotions. I forget the world. Forget that long drive to Forest City for the competitions. Forget to make dinner. (Oh, did I say that out loud?)
I'll be honest, it's one of the reasons I became a writer of science fiction/fantasy, to delve into a totally different world than my own so I could leave it all behind if even for a moment while stuck in traffic or on the Tram. Stories are magic and writing, the spell book.
In my revised version of the first two books of my Cornerstone Deep series, The Transformation of Anna and Echoes, spells and magic couldn't be more real. Cole learns this in a very hard way as he follows a duty and then finds out it'd gone too far without realizing it. This catapults the Cornerstone Deep series into a race to make things right. And along their way, they discover many things that are hard learned. But one thing stays strong, Cole's love for Mianna.
These are perfect chilly night cuddle up night-time reads! And The Transformation of Anna is on sale now at Smashwords at 50% off when you use the coupon code LD93R.
The Transformation of Anna
Blurb
For centuries, Cole Shilo has harvested the homeless, wiped their memories, and delivered them as servants to the nobles of Cornerstone Deep.  When Cole is sent to harvest a second-class woman who has broken curfew, he expects no different.  But Anna Sinclair's soul calls out to him.  Soul mates aren't possible on Cornerstone Deep…
Are they?
“My life is a mirage of endless time. But you engulf me, rivet my mind, encompass my soul.”
 What they're saying:
“The Transformation of Anna is first-rate fantasy, with a healthy dose of romance added in. Wilson has created a plausible, multi-dimensional world complete with gods, mythologies, and engaging characters. The world Wilson has created in The Transformation of Anna is complex, but infinitely and easily accessible to the reader. It's quite an amazing and impressive work with lots of action and adventure, heroic characters, and an elegant and satisfying romance.”–Jack Mangus, Readers' Favorite
“The Transformation of Anna by Charlene A. Wilson is a beautifully stunning and deeply touching story of the darkest of treachery, the rebirth of lost love, and the discovery of hidden secrets. Being left absolutely breathless and deeply astonished after reading such an extraordinary story is a new experience for me. I am anything but disappointed in this superbly enchanting and endearingly exhilarating tale of deeply true and lasting love. My heart was captured and lost to this spellbinding journey!”–Amber McCallister, The Wonderings of One Person.
 Buy links:
Author site (signed paperback) – http://charleneawilson.com/books/order/ 
EXCERPT
 Cole unstopped the slender vial and gently lifted Anna's head to administer the potion. As he carefully tipped the container to her lips, tremors traveled down his forearms. His hands quaked. The amber liquid jumped to the brim and he quickly tilted it upright. Gods, Cole, control yourself. She needs every drop.
A soft palm rested on his wrist and Cole's gaze shot to Elaina's. When had she returned and how did he not pick up on the strong compassion emitting from her when she had? Her blue eyes looked deep into his, understanding with a touch of sadness. “Let me do that, Cole. You've been through enough.”
He wasn't sure if the tremors were from anticipating a fortunate outcome or from sheer anxiety over the whole ordeal, but he accepted her tender attention as a blessing. Vincent's intervention with her was evident. He watched as she patiently poured small measures into Anna's mouth.
Elaina turned to Cole and lifted the emptied container. “Well, that's it. She got it all.”
He sighed. “Thank you.”
“Anything, Cole.” She smiled and set the vial on the bed stand. “What about you? Can I get you a drink? It might calm you some.”
Nodding, he offered a small smile.
“Good, then. I'll be right back.”
As she closed the door behind her, Cole eased himself onto the bed. “Don't give up, Anna.” His faint words were swallowed by the silence of the room. “I'll fix this and see to it nothing ever happens to you again.” Brushing his fingertips over her hair, he solemnly whispered a plea. “Don't leave me.”
Her soft locks sent countless memories rushing through his mind–her smile, cheeky comments, blue eyes dancing as if life itself was a game. Her Arylinite spirit embraced every moment of love, able to see beneath façades that others deemed as truth. He sighed, knowing that side of her may have been unique to that lifetime–a result of her specialized upbringing in the Arylin colony of the northern territory.
He tilted his head and gazed over her still face. Her features were remarkably similar to Mianna's. The gentle slope of her nose, the way she chose to wear her dark hair long, and he couldn't deny her blue eyes when she'd looked at him. He cupped her cheek with his hand, gently stroking her lips with his thumb. They curved from a bow-tie center into a natural smile. So soft. Inviting. He leaned to her and lightly kissed them, then leaned his cheek to hers.
“Talk to me, Anna.” His breath was a plea. As much as he knew no answer would come, his heart called to her with his deepest wish.
He brushed his fingers down her neck to her chest, tenderly caressing her pale skin at the neckline of her gown. A strained pause caught his throat as he lightly followed her breast to her ribcage. “What's in your heart?”
The tiny circles he drew on the thin fabric fed his longing for her touch. Supple creases followed his motion. To have her arms around him, the love they brought, had given him unmitigated comfort in a past life. It could be so again.
“My life was yours.” He kissed the circles he created. “Every moment, I found joy in you.”
He looked at her closed eyes. “Please, don't leave me. Please promise you'll be mine again.”
No emotion showed upon the visage of his love, but distant echoes of vows lighted his soul.
“Open to me.” He wondered if his whispered thought could possibly reach her unconscious mind. “Speak to me with your soul.”
Her lips parted and a chill flew through him. He waited, listened intently. Weak sensations touched his senses. “Anna,” he said aloud, hope rising. He cupped his palm to her cheek again. “Fight for it. Call to me.”
Anna remained silent.
Cole's heart ached. Yet, that small reaction spurred his resolve. He framed her face as he lowered to take her lips with his. “I'll help you.”
The scent of licorice and cream fell from his lips as he called on his Breath of Zephyr. His soul's voice owned his words. “My life is a mirage of endless time. But you engulf me, rivet my mind, encompass my soul.”
She inhaled his sensual gift and gasped for deeper intake.
Yes. Hope impossibly filled him. His muscles tightened with expectation. His heart pounded against his chest. “Call to me!”
Echoes
Cornerstone Deep book two
To be released November 10th, 2013
 Nothing is sacred to Cole when it comes to keeping his love – not even covenants made with gods, and when Lord Dressen's obsession to have Anna soars, Cole pulls out all the stops.  But, through all his efforts, lofty or damned, the truth remains. 
Will echoes of another life cause him to fail?
“Every breath you take is a song to my soul.”
  
What they're saying:
“Echoes is the second installment in Wilson's Cornerstone Deep series, and was just as much a pleasure to read as the first. The timeless love story is brought to life in a new and creative way that pulls at your heartstrings and keeps you reading….”–Annette, Gothic Mom Reviews

“A touching and magickal romance story, Echoes picks right up where The Transformation of Anna left off. Charlene pens her characters well written and brings them to life in this fast paced, totally hard to put down sequel. Recommended for all romance and paranormal romance fans.”–My Cozy Corner

  
AUTHOR INFORMATION
Charlene A. Wilson is an author of tales that take you to other dimensions. She weaves magic, lasting love, and intrigue to immerse you into the lives of her characters.
She began writing in her early teens when her vivid dreams stayed with her long after she had them. The characters and worlds were so amazing she brought them to life through her books.
Charlene resides in a small community in Arkansas, USA, with her two beautiful daughters, husband, and a very chatty cockatiel named Todder.
Author Links
For media interviews, visit CharleneAWilson.com
~ Giveaway ~
We're holding a tour-wide giveaway with lots of ways to gain entries!
Good Luck!

8

Zombie Erotoclypse In the House

I'm thrilled to be hosting Tamsin Flowers on my blog today. She and I were both contributing authors in the High Octane Heroes anthology earlier this summer. We had a ton of fun, and became online friends. So, without further delay, please welcome Tamsin Flowers!
For those of
you who haven't come across me before, my name is Tamsin Flowers and I've been
writing erotica for a couple of years – and hopefully you'll be hearing more of
me in the future!
Anyway, I'm
thrilled to be here on Sharon's blog to share an excerpt with you from Zombie Erotoclypse.
Zombie what?
Zombie Erotoclypse is my new collection of short
stories – all zombie erotica, great fun and a little bit steamy. And the
excerpt I've brought along today is from the final story in the book, Bar the Door.
Bar the Door is probably the most serious – and
the most romantic – of all the five stories and I have to admit it's a bit of
tear-jerker.  Can you imagine how you'd
feel if your other half came home and showed you that he'd been bitten by a
zombie? This is what happens to Emma and Galen and they know they have just a
few short hours left before the unspeakable happens…
Here's the
excerpt:

Bar the Door
No matter how many times you dream of the
worst possible disaster befalling you, when it actually happens it's ten
thousand times more terrible than anything you could imagine.  Think about that for a moment and then try to
imagine the split second that's so terrifying it goes beyond anything you could
have dreamt.
That's what
it was like.  That day.  That moment.
Galen
knocked on the door in the secret pattern, I drew back the bolts and first
thing I saw was blood.  On his shoulder,
all the way down his arm, soaking the sleeve of his shirt with a dark, sticky
stain.  I smelt it too, sweet and
metallic, somehow animal.
Terror swept
through me and I dropped to my knees.  It
was the moment I'd been dreading so long and it hit me like a punch in the
gut.  I couldn't breathe and my head
started spinning.
I should
have slammed the door in his face.  I
know that now.  But I knew it then and I
didn't do it.  We'd been living like this
for so many months I'd lost count.  And
every day, before either one of us went out to scavenge food, we repeated the
mantra: if a zombie attacks, don't come
back/bar the door to the biters and the bitten
.  Galen was wrong to come home to me once he'd
been mauled and I was wrong to let him in. 
But I'm glad I did.  Whatever the
future holds as a result of our actions that day, I'm glad Galen just didn't
vanish without a trace into the zombie hoards. 
Because that's what would have happened if he hadn't come back to me.
Galen pushed
past me into the apartment.
“Get
the fucking door shut,” he said, his voice a dry rasp.
He staggered
to the couch while I fought with reality. 
It took the sound of a zombie blood howl on the porch to bring me
round.  I leapt to my feet and slammed
the door, throwing the bolts with practiced speed.   Then I peered out through the metal grid
covering the only small window left at the front of the house.  There were three of them, mature and fetid
zombies, lumbering across our porch and I immediately heard one of them
scraping against the door.  I reached for
the rifle.
“Leave
them,” said Galen.  “They'll go
away when they realize they can't get in. 
Don't waste bullets on them. You can't afford to throw any away
now.”
‘Now.'  I knew what he was referring to—and ‘you'. An
icy cold hand clasped around my heart.  I
went over to where he lay sprawled on the couch.  There was a lump in my throat when I tried to
speak.
“What…?”
“…happened?  I got careless, Emma.  I fucking got complacent.”
And then my
big, strong, adorable Galen started to cry. 
It was something I'd never seen him do and it cut me up.  Even more than seeing the blood on his
shoulder that was his death knell.
****
Thank
goodness zombies are only fictional (I think…) And if you want more it's only
99c or 77p for all five stories!
Author bio: Tamsin Flowers
Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted
erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun.  In the
words of one reviewer, ‘Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that
forces itself upon your own body.' Her stories have appeared in a wide variety
of anthologies and she is now graduating to novellas with the intention to pen
her magnum opus in the very near future.  In the meantime, like most
erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once:
while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more
about her at Tamsin's Superotica or Tamsin Flowers. Follow her on
Twitter @TamsinFlowers or on
Facebook Tamsin Flowers.
Love it. Love it. Love it. Thank you sooooo much for joining us today. I'm excited for this new release and I just know it will do very well. Running over right now to add another book to my Kindle. Hope some of you will do the same.

What about you? Do you read zombie romance? Zombie Erotoclypse? That's a mouthful for sure. Hope you enjoy Tamsin's creative talents and her great sense of humor.

Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.


6

Oh The Halloween Ball!

Finally we get all dressed up and attend that wonderful Halloween Ball. That night at the Julia Morgan Ballroom,  I truly did step right into the pages of my story. We entered the room under a canopy of twinkle lights as if we were entering the realm of a faerie castle. I found the anonymous nature of not knowing anyone there except my husband very sexy and alluring. Everyone was painted, masked, padded or wigged up. The mobile DJ was the devil himself!

I can't remember eating, or sitting down, but at some point we did retire to a dark little corner of the bar. We sipped port. And that's when the story began to take shape….

(Excerpt from Mortal Bite)

Sparkle dust was in the air, tickling his nose. The amber-colored candle
on the table filled the air with the fragrance of blood oranges, Anne’s
favorite scent. He should know, he chuckled to himself, since Marcus had placed
hundreds of them throughout his villa for her.
Paolo watched faeries dance with trolls, and idly ran his gaze over a scantily
clad woman in black with huge breasts as she undulated and massaged her body
over her partner’s. There were werewolves, storm troopers, kings and queens.
Some men and women danced with partners of their own sex, some cavorted in
groups.
He removed his cape and left it dangling over his chair as he went in
search for a good glass of

port. He preferred to have the enticing sweetness of
port on his breath, should he meet a lady he wanted to speak with. His fangs
craved the flesh of a mortal woman tonight.

The scent of jasmine was strong as he edged his way between the dancers
and a table filled with donuts of every size, color and confection. The
pastries were resting on a bed of candy corn and caramel popcorn. Paolo’s teeth
ached at the thought of tasting the over-sweet treats.
Lucius would have loved this. Paolo
smiled as he mused how sick the boy would have been the next day.
Something soft bumped into his backside. Something that smelled
wonderful.
He turned and brushed intimately against a beautiful, auburn-haired woman
with green eyes, whose curves made the most of a white Renaissance gown with a
plunging neckline . Feathered wings were sewn on the back of the dress, and her
long, draping sleeves almost touched the floor when her hands were down. Everything
he’d lectured himself about not getting involved with mortal women flew away
with the blink of his eye.
Upon seeing Paolo, she raised her palms to her face and hitched her
breath, as if startled.
“Oh, my. What have we here?” she said.
To a mortal, the loud music would have made it impossible to hear what
she said. Paolo could hear every breath, every syllable rolling off her pink
tongue as clearly as if she’d whispered it in his ear. Something silky slid
down his spine as a door within him opened.
“I am a vampire, madam, at your service.” Paolo bowed and kissed her
extended fingers.
Did I make her offer her hand, or
did she volunteer it?
“But your lips are warm. That means you are an imposter.” She smiled and
the world lit up.
“I assure you, madam, I am no imposter.” He felt his groin go rigid. He
noted the blue pulsing vein at her neck quicken as her heart fluttered, sending
her scent to his waiting nostrils.
She turned and gazed over her shoulder at a young man dancing madly into
oblivion. Her partner did not notice his date had been distracted by the charms
a new dark visitor. Someone who could be dangerous to her health.
Modern men. So naïve. They let
their women wander way too much, allowing them to be gobbled up by
straycatchers…
She turned and looked up at him, as though she was expecting Paolo to say
something.
“Would you like some refreshment?” he finally asked her. His insides
began to flutter in tandem with the beating of her heart.
Her eyes took on a momentary sparkle that thrilled Paolo. She turned and
regarded her young dancing partner without much interest. Putting her hands
aside her mouth, she shouted to him, “Johnny!”
The blond dancer jerked, then broke out in a toothy grin, raising his
palms and undulating his torso in tune with the grinding music. Paolo didn’t
like the sexual sway and suggestive jest aimed at his new interest.
“I’m getting something to drink,” the woman mouthed her words silently
and followed it by drinking from an imaginary glass in her right hand.
Johnny gave her the thumbs up and started to go back to his wild
gyrations, but hesitated as he looked at Paolo. A frown of worry marred his
sunny countenance
She shook her head and waved him away from across the dance floor. Paolo
heard her say, “No problem. You have fun,” but doubted Johnny had heard a
thing.
A glittery faerie dancer came up behind Johnny and slid under his knees,
pressing into his backside that drew a whoop from him. The young man was
instantly distracted by the way the little one rubbed herself all over his
trousers.
Paolo’s new friend leaned back and laughed, her neck and shoulders
sparkling with glitter. He could smell how good she would taste. He saw as well
as felt what she liked sexually and knew he could satisfy her—do things, make
her feel things, she had never dreamed possible. He stole glances while she was
distracted by the bodies writhing on the dance floor and the sparkle of the
costumes.
Then she turned. Paolo and his mortal beauty and her red lips faced each
other fully at last. Her reddish-brown curls called to his fingers as his mouth
anticipated kissing her, tasting her, making her shudder in his arms.
The woman was waiting for him to lead the way. Paolo held his breath. He
wanted to be sure she was coming of her own accord. He refrained from glamoring
her.
Does it matter?
He decided that tonight it did.
Leave a comment and be entered to win a $50 gift card from Amazon on midnight tomorrow night. Don't forget to head back to Sable Hunter's other blog affiliates by clicking the button at the upper right of this site. New prizes are in store for you tomorrow from others! Consult the schedule for a list of upcoming posts.
My question for you is this: What costume would you wear if you could meet your 300-year old fated mate at a Halloween Ball? Answer here, and then tell Sable's minions you did it and invite them to drop on by…
Enjoy!
Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.

6

Reviving Dark and Shameless Stories for Halloween

Who doesn't love a good Halloween haunting story? Like dusty old vamps that come back to life at night, I've neglected my paranormal series and have chosen Sable Hunter's blog hop to kick it off. So help me show it some love.

Two years ago, my husband and I attended the Afterlife party in San Francisco, at the Julia Morgan Ballroom. I went as an angel, and my husband a vampire. We had a ball. There were little green faeries, pods of Smurfs, vamps, sexy witches, ghosts and costumes of famous people. Music was rockin.

I used that party (and of course embellished it) to use in a chapter for Mortal Bite, Book 2 in the Golden Vampires of Tuscany series. My hero, Paolo Monteleone, is a real life Golden Vampire. He dresses as himself for this party, and there, meets a beautiful young college professor who studies vampire literature and lore.

Here is a very brief excerpt from Mortal Bite where the hero is readying himself for that great Halloween costume party where his life will change forever:

Paolo Monteleone swirled the black cape around his body as he checked the
guest chamber’s full-length mirror. The fabric arrived at his knees and calves
well after he stopped spinning, and then draped back away to sway a few inches
from the floor. He could see his face in the polished sheen of his shoes.. The
tux and red cummerbund, an elegant presentation, belonged to his brother,
Marcus, but it fit him perfectly. Marcus’s man had done well. The costume was a
fitting outfit for any good vampire gentleman.
It had been a year since he’d returned to Italy, repairing the damage
he’d caused his brother and his new wife. A year of learning to be a father to
his son, making amends to the other Monteleone family members who at first
didn’t trust that he wouldn’t run off again and try to live as the mortal he

wasn’t.

When Marcus and Anne graciously invited him to join them in California
wine country, Paolo immediately agreed. The change of scenery was doing him
good. Tonight he was going to attend his first party without a member of his
family.
The door burst open and Lucius, all four feet of him, raced straight for
Paolo. The boy wore his Superman cape and red boots—rain boots, to be
exact—with all the pride of the superheroes he loved to emulate.
Paolo bent over and lifted his son, pressed the flesh of this little
superhero to his chest and nuzzled just under the boy’s right ear. The fresh
smell of his mortality was the most satisfying moment of Paolo’s day. Eventually,
Lucius would have to make the choice whether to remain mortal or become golden
vampire. But not yet. Not until he was of age.
“And just where are you heading out to? Anne taking you
trick-or-treating? It’s not Halloween yet,” he murmured affectionately into the
side of the boy’s face.
Lucius drew back and his dark eyes flashed at his father, which always
managed to melt Paolo’s heart.
“I’m going with you to the party, father.” His coppery brown eyes and
pink cheeks made him look sweet despite the heavy, jagged, and uneven eye
makeup he must have applied himself.
“Lucius, you could hurt yourself putting all that kohl around your eyes.
You should have asked your aunt for help.”
“Well, Anne and Marcus…” the boy paused and blushed.  “They’re busy all the time.”
“Ahhhhh,” Paolo said. He envied his brother and his long-awaited fated
female and their new baby. The fact that Marcus found Anne after three hundred
years of searching meant there might still be hope for him. Not a fated female,
but someone to love and be loved in return.
A shadow suddenly covered his heart, and gave him a chill. He composed
himself and addressed his son.
“Lucius, time enough for parties when you’re older. This one is for
grownups only. Not for…”
“Kids,” Lucius finished with resignation. “But I want to go. You will protect me, father.”
Indeed he could. Not an hour went by when Paolo wasn’t fearful of the
fact that Lucius, still mortal, could die, and Paolo, vampire, would be left to
grieve for all eternity.

Come back to visit tomorrow, and you'll get to read some of the hero/heroine's first ghoulish words to each other. Spoken over a thick glass of port.

Today and tomorrow, we're going to have a giveaway, a $50 Amazon gift card for each day. In order to win, you must leave a comment here. Answer this question: What do you love the most about reading vampires? If you email me at sharonhamilton2001@gmail.com, you will get a special Blood Never Lies necklace as pictured above. One $50 winner will be announced on this blog site at midnight  tonight! But, even if you don't win the Amazon gift card, you can still win one of these blood dog tags just for leaving a comment here today. Enjoy, and thanks for showing up today.

Don't forget to find the schedule of all the other blogs participating in this huge event by clicking on the Halloween Blog Hop button at the upper right of this page. Tell everyone about what you've read and commented here. The Main Event is October 26th at 5 PM on Facebook. Details on the button above.

Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.
2

Dangerous Attraction is out today!

Was so honored to be asked to be part of this great anthology of 10 full length books, all Romantic Suspense, all different authors, just in time for your holiday enjoyment! This week only, it is .99.

5

Wounded Warriors Carry Forward Gala

I had the pleasure to attend the second Wounded Warrior Carry Forward event last night in Los Angeles. We raced down from Sonoma County, getting here with a half hour to spare. I changed into my dressy clothes in the front seat of Don's Passat, put on some makeup quickly, and voila! I was ready to go.

I am a Wounded Warrior supporter, and have given them generous donations from the sales of my SEAL books. I've done so with the SEAL/UDT Museum in Fort Pierce, Florida, and even have a plank to prove it as a founding member of the group. Supporting these veteran's groups is one of the fun things I get to do as a writer. But of course, I'm having the most fun telling the stories.

Boy were there stories last night. Tony Sirico won the first-ever James Gandolfini award for service to the Wounded Warrior community. He ended his speech with a “batta-bing” and a point to the sky as a message to James from the heart. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. James' son was there as well as many of the cast of Sopranos.

What I didn't know until last night was that James Gandolfini had worked with veteran's groups for years, being especially concerned with PTSD disorders of returning vets of the Iraq and Afghan wars. His father was a WWII Purple Heart recipient. James produced “Alive Day Memories” and “Wartorn,” both dedicated to the stories of these returning warriors and the impact that has had on the remainder of their lives. These stories are told in first person details, Gandolfini interviewing them, or sharing their journals and diaries.

My post is late because I'm here in San Diego today and tomorrow, supporting my husband who is at a Real Estate mastermind event. But I'm going over to Coronado later on, going to sit on the beach, drool, and work on my next SEAL book. 

I am so grateful that I am able to be a writer, able to share some of these events, and bring awareness to men and women who have given more than what was asked of them. It is what makes this country great. These days when we're thinking of perhaps other things going on, I am so grateful I get to spend a weekend focusing on what's right with the world, not what's wrong.

Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.