Some Write It Hot

January 3, 2011

A Taste of Scarlet–Coming Soon! by Evanne Lorraine

A Taste of Scarlet releases soon from Loose Id! Just for Some Write It Hot fans here’s an excerpt from chapter one:

With the right players even the most mundane chore takes on new excitement. Scarlet ran to the store for a few essentials and….

On any other night, she would have tucked her dormant tail between her legs and run back through the woods all the way to the safety of the old house. But not tonight. How could she track the whisperer if she was too cowardly even to buy groceries?

Her arm trembled as she reached for the handle. No cringing, she reminded herself firmly. She was on a mission. Wimping out at the first sign of an Alpha wouldn’t cut it. She wasn’t a submissive Beta, and even a flawed Omega did not cower. Besides, she was still in charge, not her inner bitch. Nothing would ever change unless Scarlet took action.

Abruptly she pushed into the store. Grabbing a basket, she scurried toward the dairy section clear in the back.
She spotted the Alpha instantly. Aggression rolled off shoulders big enough to block the coming moonlight. Even in human form, he prowled toward her — a powerful male in his prime, pure lethal poetry in motion, and scary as hell.

As Scarlet fought to hold her ground, she felt her inner wolf hum for the first time in a decade. Her breath caught; she was afraid to breathe, afraid to believe. She’d endured so many treatments, sessions with the visiting Omega, meetings with Alphas to overcome her phobia of the dominant males, but nothing had worked to restore her damaged connection to her inner Omega bitch.

Hope beat wildly at her Omega’s gentle but unmistakable nudge toward the Alpha, infusing Scarlet with badly needed courage. Perhaps the connection wasn’t as damaged as she and the pack had believed. The link responding so soon made her impulsive trip to the mountains seem more like a valid inspiration and less like a desperate chase after myths.

Her wolf’s message came through loud and clear: this Alpha was different. In a good way?

Gradually her heart rate slowed to something almost normal, her knees firmed, and she took a step forward. Alpha or not, her wolf had responded to him, and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly she couldn’t look directly at him. A weird tingling washed over her skin. If she’d been wearing fur, it would have fluffed. In challenge or dare, she wondered. Definitely not in terror, which was freakily strange for her.

Determined and more than a little curious, she braved another step.

As he came closer, she forced herself to meet his gaze. Instantly his dark gray eyes pinned her in place.

She quickly dropped her focus to the floor, quivering with tension, but she didn’t panic. Her inner bitch made a throaty sound of approval. The sudden urge to grovel and show him her throat washed over her, making staying upright a challenge.

When she darted another look, he’d halved the distance separating them. He stopped, glanced down at his hip, and glared at an insistent buzz from his pager. A deep rumble of irritation issued from his throat. The sound was so loud, she could’ve sworn it shook the pyramid display of microwave popcorn on his left.

Once again, she sensed his focus locking on her.

“Stay,” he growled at her. Then he whirled and strode off, disappearing down the soups and spices aisle.

Read more about my dangerously sexy stories at Evanne Lorraine

November 9, 2010

A Scarlet Past by Evanne Lorraine

Filed under: Coming soon — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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An excerpt from A Scarlet Past coming to a Kindle near you, November 20th!


Rain poured out of the sullen sky. Two rogue werewolves were already on the ground, bleeding out. Fortunately for him and the female, rogues packs were notoriously undisciplined. This group was no exception to the rule. Another three of the lumbering males circled a fragile doll in human form. Every one of crazed rogues panted with arousal, their sick excitement polluting the air. One of the circlers got impatient and charged her back.

Fergus leapt, knocking the charging rogue to the ground. By rolling him, he exposed the enemy’s belly. His own powerful hind legs ripped through the rogue’s stinking hide at the same time he bit a big hole in the wounded male’s jugular.

Shaking off the foul blood, clogging his nose, he scanned the scene, frantic to find the doll. She’d hamstrung one and was waltzing with the last mobile rogue.

His heart stuttered with fear for her. The brave little female was way too delicate for this kind fight. While he watched, she wielded a silver blade with graceful expertise, her movements quick flashes, but always in control. She danced, nicking the enemy, and staying just out of the slower male’s reach, patiently waiting for the horny rogue to make a fatal mistake.

Even in human form, the Alpha bitch looked as good as she smelled. Generous breasts balanced a full bottom, in between the lush curves, a slender, supple waist twisted as she parried with the rogues. Her hair glinted a deep red, ivory skin shimmered in the moonlight, and plump lips parted, baring pearly teeth at the foaming–mouthed male.

Watching her made Fergus’s own sorry hide feel too thin, too much like one of the crazed males. He itched for a caress from those delicate hands. The gut–twisting craving reminded him how touch starved he was and how close to madness he’d come.

Determined not to fail her, he ignored his needs and paced downwind of the fight. Finally sinking to the ground with a grunt of grudging admiration, he let the rain roll off his thick fur and settled down to watch the show. The rain plastered her thin dress to her provocative curves, improving the scenery. Meanwhile, she polished off the wounded rogue and kept the snarling mover at bay.

As distracting as the wet dress made her, Fergus stayed alert, ready to spring to her aid if she needed his help. At the same time, he fumed about the kind of mangy Alpha leader who’d let this sweet little doll roam the night by herself. After they’d finished up here, which was going to be challenge with the body count she’d piled up, he planned to tear her pack leader a new asshole.

Then he noticed she was breathing too fast. The rich scent of female blood pinched his snout. A closer look showed she kept one arm pinned to her side. Damn rogue had hurt her. How the hell had he missed that?

His snarl ripped the air during the short flight to the enemy snapping at the female. Fury obliterated his fatigue and aches, fueling him with extra strength. He bit down on the rogue’s neck, locked his powerful jaws, and shook the worthless dog until he went limp in his teeth.

He dropped the dead enemy and turned to check on the brave little female.

From a fighting crouch, she panted, watching him with wary eyes.

Hard as it was not to notice the magnificent breasts heaving, he forced himself to meet her eyes — her beautiful brown eyes.

Blood trickled from the gash in her side. How bad was she wounded? Why didn’t she shift to heal faster? A rumble of irritation escaped him as he closed the distance separating him from her.

With stunning speed, her silver blade flashed, nicking his chest. The small cut stung like a whole swarm of bees.

As he backed off, a sneeze cleared the stench of rogue out of his snout and he caught a good whiff of her. The seductive honeysuckle fragrance prickled with notes of anger, pain, amazing command, and a seductive female challenge.

He moved in more cautiously, she wielded a wicked knife, and she was pissed. None of that changed the fact she was hurt. He had to help her.

When he sidled nearer, she brandished her blade and edged away from him.

Rogues couldn’t shift. So he did. It was the only thing he could think of to reassure her that he was one of the good guys.

Her eyes widened to saucer size. With no warning, not a single damn tell, and way too much accuracy, she threw the knife.

~ ~ ~ ~

Want more? This ebook is available as an ARC (advance reader copy) in pdf form. Learn how to score your copy here.

Find out what else Evanne is up on her website

October 27, 2010

Wicked Games by Evanne Lorraine

Filed under: backlist — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
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A few years ago, before I’d ever heard of cougar stories, I wrote Wicked Games, the erotic adventure of an older woman younger man relationship that becomes much more complex than either of them imagined. Since writing this tale, I hope I’ve learned a bit more about how to write, but each story still has a special spot in my heart. I hope you enjoy the excerpt.

The massage room’s door creaked open and she bolted to her feet. A young sex god, in all his bronzed glory, sauntered out of the room.

The masseur.

At the sight of him, she drew in a startled breath. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected and she wasn’t prepared for the effect of meeting him. He was bare from the waist up, his upper body gleamed, redolent with intoxicating oil. A white towel draped around his neck, highlighting his tan. A sprinkling of curly black hair decorated the sculpted muscles of a magnificent chest. A narrow trail of the same dark hair arrowed down washboard abs, disappearing into his cotton slacks.

When she was able to draw her gaze to his face, she found classic features, along with darker than sin eyes. He evaluated her with frank masculine appraisal. A wave of sensual longing swept through her, clenching feminine muscles and tightening her nipples. Thankfully, the white shirt she’d tossed on over her bikini obscured the direction of her thoughts.

He eyed her with an expression of faint amusement. “You wish to schedule a massage, for you and your husband?”

As if his face and body alone weren’t enough to send her hormones into lusty overdrive, his voice was deep, seductive, and the English words he spoke lightly accented by French.

“Just me,” she breathed.

He arched one eyebrow. “No husband?”

“No husband,” she said in a more normal tone, tilting her chin and daring him to make fun of her single status here in honeymoon heaven.

“Me neither,” he said, taking her elbow, and then walking her toward the main entrance.

More thrilled than was sensible by his easy touch, she teased him. “No husband?”

“No wife,” he grinned at her and a single dimple winked.

She swallowed a sigh of pure sexual yearning. Of course, there was no wife. He was too young and handsome.

“When?” he asked.

Right here, right now. Well, perhaps over there behind those lush plants, where no one would notice.
“When do I want the massage?” She asked coolly, ignoring the inappropriate clamor in her lust-soaked mind.

“Exactly,” he said with a smaller smile. One that didn’t include the dimple.

“Now?” She twisted toward the massage room.

“Non,” he said abruptly, and then just as quickly softened his tone. “Now is not good, in one hour at your cabin. Oui?”

“My cabin? Why not the massage room?” Faint tingles of alarm skittered along her spine. Yes, he was young, virile, and way too good-looking. But, he was also a powerfully built man – a stranger who could be hiding dangerous intentions.

Broad shoulders rippled with a too casual shrug. “We could, some clients prefer their own quarters–a massage is very relaxing. Many prefer to take a nap afterwards. It is your choice,
Mademoiselle.”

What was the worst thing that could happen? That this young sex god would ravish her. Wasn’t that exactly what she needed? Perhaps, but jumping into a sexual encounter…. Was it smart? Was it safe? Was it sane?

No, times three.

Some strange brazen woman took control of her mouth, speaking coolly. “My cabin is number six. See you in an hour.”

Stop by to visit me any time, at my website to read more dangerously sexy stories.

September 16, 2010

Meet Evanne Lorraine by DA Kentner

Filed under: Who we are — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , , ,

In Seattle, Washington, a gentle, demure lady quietly goes about the business of lovingly tending her flower garden. Her dog, having taken refuge from the sun under a tree, idly watches. Knees sore, back strained, she leaves her gloves on the gardening table, trades shoes for soft slippers, hangs her straw sunhat on a hook, pours a glass of lemonade, and sits down at her computer. The tranquil, flower horticulturist immediately transforms to Evanne Lorraine, a leading author of the books you don’t tell your friends you read.
Whether the characters are lonely businesswomen in search of what can’t be found from 9 to 5, dangerous men and the women who deserve them, or water demons who taste like chocolate, Evanne’s skillfully written novels capture the imagination, steal your breath, and set your heart racing.

You can find Evanne, her flowers, and her novels at her website

Q) When did you decide you wanted to be an author?

A) During the process of planning for retirement, I realized the thing I would miss about working as an accountant was the work. Although I love numbers and am very fond of money, I wanted to do something different. Something involving words and reading. I seriously considered a career in library sciences, but found the challenge of writing even more seductive.

Q) You truly possess an affinity for flowers and spend hours researching them and tending to them. Given your expertise, have you considered writing a book on horticulture?

A) I like to keep my hobbies and my work separate. Tending the landscape refreshes my spirit, If I wrote about my passion for gardening the process would become work rather than play.

Q) Your characters are solidly constructed, barely fictional. Where do you draw inspiration from for them?

A) Everywhere and anywhere, while the fictional people may be a tad larger than life, and their outsides a little more than ordinary, on the inside they are everyman.

Q) As well as the “Enyo Chronicles” series, the “Wicked” series, and the “Dangerous” series, you have written numerous single novels such as “Pirate Rules” that take us from the bedroom next door to ethereal worlds we could never envision ourselves. Please describe for us the process you use to construct your settings, be they our hometown, or a race of lusting demons searching for love.

A) Many of my stories are set in places I’ve been fortunate enough to visit. It’s a personal treat to return to a tropical paradise. I usually write those stories during the rainy season. In Seattle the rainy season is most of the year, leaving plenty of time to write about exotic locations. The futuristic story settings are imagined terrains, constructed of dreams.

Q) What advice can you offer those who believe they would like to write a book?

A) Write the story you want to write. Really. There’s no substitute for writing. There is also much benefit to reading–widely and often, English degrees, and creative writing courses.

Read more from DA Kentner

Pirate Rules By Evanne Lorraine

I wanted to pick a favorite title to share. Hard to choose when the heroes are all so demanding. But I’ve got a real weakness for pirates, and no one else writes modern pirate erotic romance, so I did. 😉

Excerpt

Boldly, Zara climbed onto a padded bar stool close to where she’d last seen the rugged pirate. She scanned the crowd with eager interest, hoping to catch another glimpse of the smoldering hottie. Aware her odds of success decreased in direct ratio to the rogue’s hunk factor, she optimistically searched for her dream man anyway.

Why not try for the best?

But, her screening of the bodies crowding the bar confirmed the bad news, no loose hunky pirate. Everyone seemed paired off already. No one’s fault but hers for letting Smiley’s intimidation keep her from playing Treasure Hunt game earlier. Her rumbling stomach reminded her she missed out on the crab feed too.

A rapidly moving waitress disappeared into the crowd with a full tray of gaily-colored cocktails with lime wedges, cherries, and miniature umbrellas. The pretty drinks made Zara thirsty as well as hungry.

“What’s your pleasure, Miss?” the bartender asked with a friendly smile.

“What kind of drinks were in those hurricane glasses over there?” She waved toward the decorated cocktails.

“Those are Caribbean Cruises, Miss. They’re very popular with the ladies.”

Zara hesitated for a bare second. “I’ll have one of those, please.”

“Do you want to run a tab? Or–.”

While she was considering her options, the smoldering hottie she noticed earlier wedged in next to her, claiming a previously nonexistent space. Then he gave her a thorough going over from her well-groomed hair to her cute sandals.

Apparently, she’d passed inspection because he tipped his head toward her in a brief nod of approval.

“Add it to my bill and bring us a plate of coconut shrimp too, and another Long John Silver, thanks, pal.” The intriguing pirate placed his order with an engagingly crooked grin.

“Thank you,” she said, swiveling toward her benefactor.

A seductive pair of dark eyes met hers, making the lively bar scene fade into oblivion.

This close, the man intoxicated her senses. He was so near a faint trace of bleach from his shirt mingled with scents of sandalwood and clean man. The heat emanating from all those hard muscles warmed her skin.

She tried to swallow, but found her mouth suddenly too dry.

The bartender placed her pastel drink neatly in front of her and she leaned in for a fortifying sip.

Casually, she checked out the hunk through lowered lashes. Like Smiley, the man with the sinful voice was dressed as a pirate. But on him, the costume worked. Her smile spread a little wider with relief as she realized the costume meant he had to work for the cruise line. Maybe, he was one of the cooks, since she was positive she hadn’t seen him on deck. She would have remembered.

A good head taller than her lanky five eight frame, and much broader, he made her feel positively dainty–a novel but pleasing experience. His open-necked white shirt framed a nicely rippled chest with a good sprinkling of curling black hair. Well-worn pants disappeared into supple leather boots. His waist was bound by a faded red silk wrap, complete with a wickedly authentic looking knife, tucked into the fabric. Dark curls swirled to his shoulders, providing the perfect frame for heartbreaker-eyes and the devil’s own mouth. At least one day’s growth of beard darkened his jaw. A rap-star sized diamond winked from his left ear.

“Razor Brinks,” he said, holding out a hand.

She accepted the offer to shake, darn near forgetting who she was as his warm grip engulfed her.

“Zara Sterling,” she managed to say her name. Then, because her tongue was faster than her brain, she asked. “What kind of name is Razor Brinks?”

“Mine, Sweetheart,” he drawled, taking her hand and brushing a thrilling kiss across her knuckles, and then rubbing the spot that continued tingling long after his mouth had departed.

Read more from Evanne Lorraine at her website

Pirate Rules is available from New Concepts Publishing and Amazon and Fictionwise

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