Friday, November 21, 2014

FREE at Amazon, the best-selling collection PIRATES!

(Formerly called ROGUES, revised and re-edited)

Three stories, one kind of hero, pirates anyone? Includes the short stories:

Angel-Fire: A short intro to the world of Captain Jack Stanton, an honourable man with a tarnished reputation. Stranded in Nassau, caught up in a pleasant interlude with a barmaid, Jack has a vision that will lead him to his past and his future, if he can survive to get back Tortuga to discover what it all means…

Storm-Singer: The Isle of Nyx has become the dread of all sailors who must dare the waters surrounding the mythical island. Local legends say a vampire prince resides in the ancient castle that can be seen from the harbor of the island. At his side is a powerful sorceress whose song can control and summon storms.
In a desperate attempt to end the eternal threat looming over them, the people of the Aurora Islands sacrifice their greatest treasure, the princess Sarita, entrusting her with the task of seducing and destroying the dark prince who has been plundering their wealth and their people for centuries?

The Phantom’s Lair: Upon her arrival in the pirate port of Tortuga where her father is acting as Governor, Katheryn Hollinsworth is determined to choose her own path, and follow her heart wherever it may take her. On the streets of Puerta de la Plata, she encounters the mythical buccaneer known as The Phantom, and very quickly loses her heart to the handsome rogue.

Jack Stanton is a man who has never fully come to terms with his past, and in the Governor's pretty daughter he finds a most unlikely champion. But when his past threatens her life, and any chance of a respectable future, The Phantom must face the demons of his past, and accept the dictates of his own reawakened heart...



“Relax, Jacques,” she purred softly as she rained kisses over his face and chest. “Let your mind accept the gift I have given you.”

Swept along on a tidal wave of sensuous excitement, Stanton struggled despite her pleas. He made a half-hearted grab for her when her soft lips trekked further downward, and she effortlessly slapped aside his attempt at restraint.

Jack’s hips rose from the bed, the reaction totally beyond his ability to control, if indeed he had truly wanted to stop the barrage of sexual delight pounding through his veins. He twisted, tried to pin her, but laughter met the awkward movement of his sluggish limbs.

Angelique pressed the expanse of his naked chest and pushing him onto his back as she straddled his hips and grinned down at him.

Stanton opened his mouth, but no coherent words passed his lips.

She lowered herself onto his straining erection and his body convulsed with new euphoria. When the surge of sensory pleasure threatened to suffocate him, his mind finally rose and found freedom.

Through a haze of smoke and mist, Jack’s beloved ship, The Scarlet Thorn, sailed away as he shouted obscenities and anything else his fertile imagination offered him. On Thorn’s quarterdeck, the newly appointed Captain DeBeaupre’s laughter rang out and taunted him. Gold, spinning wildly, glittering wickedly, always out of reach. Blood tinged the brilliance of the shining metal and Jack drew back from it. Engulfed in crimson, a skull grinned from the golden surface.
Was this part of the notorious curse that he’d been hearing about for years?

As quickly as the thought crystallized in his mind, it was lost to swirling mist again.

Slowly, the fog cleared and the Thorn, under attack and badly damaged, shrieked rage into his brain, echoing into a darkness that obscured everything.

“Breathe deeply, my love,” Angelique whispered, riding his bucking hips wildly as she held his wavering gaze. “Let my angel-fire bring forth your destiny,” she moaned, losing her hold on his gaze as her desire peaked and exploded.

The Phantom’s Lair:

Stanton stopped a few feet from the two people squared off against each other. The girl’s sword moved like a shimmering sliver of moonlight as she parried and feinted with careless grace, easily deflecting the less disciplined thrusts of her opponent’s blade. She was dressed like a buccaneer, but he sensed she was anything but what she appeared to be. She slipped on wet ground. The drunkard gained an advantage and made to deliver a fatal strike.

Cutlass drawn, Jack intercepted the other man’s sword on its downward arc. Sparks flew as the blades clashed, and Stanton circled until he stood between the woman and her attacker.

“Taking advantage of a lady when she’s down.” Jack shook his head in mock despair, while his mouth curved into a roguish smile. “That’s hardly fair play.”

“Stay outta this.” The sailor snarled in reckless fury. “It’s between me and the lady.” He tried to shove Stanton aside.

Jack pushed back and waited. The stumbling man to recovered and had a new target, as Jack had anticipated. He raised his weapon and edged closer to Stanton.

“Do you really think this wise, mate?” Jack smiled, enjoying himself now.

His opponent lunged.

Jack sidestepped and the other man hit the building and staggered. Jack tapped his shoulder with his sword. The man whirled, growling his fury, and attacked like a madman. Jack hadn’t calculated the ferocity of the other man’s anger, and he was nearly run through.

The swordplay began in earnest, and Stanton had no time to consider if he should have left this situation to the people involved. A few well-chosen steps gave him the advantage and he parried awkward thrusts with more ease as he drove the fellow backward. When he struck the man across the face with the hilt of his cutlass, he thought the contest over. Until a slash of fire tore up his arm and he had scant seconds to realize he’d been struck. Stanton’s annoyance went up another notch and he spun around, intent on ending the impromptu confrontation. The woman spared him further effort when she slammed the back of the sailor’s head with the butt of a pistol and he went down with a groan.

Jack looked at her, a quizzical tilt to his head.

“I didn’t think it necessary to kill a man simply for being stupid,” she explained with a flash of pearly-white teeth. “But I thank you for your assistance, sir.” She stepped closer and peered at her rescuer. He stepped back, sheathing his cutlass, with suspicion in his pale eyes.

“Do I know you?”

“I think not, m’lady.” Jack smiled.

Now that he could see her clearly in the torchlight, Jack knew they had never met. He wouldn’t have forgotten a woman as lovely as this one. The flicker of the torch flames found responding tongues of color in her long, tumbling mane, presently slipping from the leather thong she’d tied at her nape. The cloak she wore was open, and his sharp gaze took rapid stock of her clothes. His earlier opinion was confirmed in his sweeping appraisal as he inventoried silk shirt, close-fitting pants of heavy cotton, polished leather boots reaching her knees, and a wide belt from which hung the scabbard for her handcrafted sword.

“Jack Stanton.” She positioned the pistol at her hip. “You’re Captain Jack Stanton, aren’t you? The one they call The Phantom.”

Jack’s head tilted as he met her bold brown stare. What he saw there amused him. She was curious, and faintly excited by her discovery of his identity. “And you are?” 


Magic thrummed in the icy pitch of the night air. Sorcery and song combined to create a powerful and potent spell, one that promised to be all Jaden had demanded.

Arrah contained her wrath, pushed it into the darkest corner of her soul, as she concentrated on the binding harmony she was weaving with the winds. Power surged within her, and she breathed in the sweet, pure essence of earth-force, captivated now by the mystical rapture that the music stirred and sent spiraling into the night.

Waves rose and battered the ebony shores of the Isle of Nyx, their crashing voice another rhythm of power in the enchantment. The winds coalesced, added their resonant wail to the sounds filling the air, and she shuddered, savage spirit attuned to the maelstrom of forces engulfing her. She shifted the tone of her song, weaving greater torrents of madness into the music, and the night darkened further.

With the blackness came vision.

And Jaden.

She caught his unique scent, heard the whisper of silk moving rhythmically with each step he took toward her. She felt the power of his very presence long before his graceful hand came to rest at her shoulder.

“The Spectre is ready for launch.”

Jaden’s smooth, sensual voice caressed her, as silken and alluring as the power that vibrated within her body. His arms glided around her waist, and the soft, evocative stroke of his tongue on her neck made her tremble. His hands roamed freely over her, everywhere at once, lighting fire and hunger in her veins as he touched and explored familiar curves. She arched away from him, and he pulled her back against the solid steel of his body. When his mouth covered the throbbing pulse at her neck, her voice reached a new crescendo of furious power. She felt the sharp piercing of her skin then their thoughts merged and reached outward as he sought beyond the storm she’d conjured for him.

Long minutes later, he released his hold on her and turned her to face him, dark eyes glittering. He smiled, tenderness in the shift of his perfect features. She kissed his cheek, then bent her forehead to his chest, faintly aware of the stolen heartbeat that was hers, hearing the even cadence that was a flawless echo of each thump of life within her.

“How long will you need?” she asked, her earlier anger faded for the moment.

“We will return before dawn,” he replied with faint laughter in his rich tone.

“Is this treasure worth the risk you take, Jaden?” She wasn’t as certain as he appeared to be. An indefinable and worrisome element that remained out of her reach nagged at her.

“This treasure is far more than gold and jewels, Arrah,” he purred.

Startled, she met his gaze. “What did you see?”


Her eyes grew huge as he smiled down at her.

“Have faith.” He kissed her lips, a slow, erotic caress tasting faintly of blood and magic. “Wait for me.” He winked then vanished in an inky swirl of mist and silken cloak.

Available at:

Thursday, November 20, 2014

WIN a copy of @MaryBurtonBooks best-seller The Seventh Victim in Audio!


If At First You Don’t Succeed

It’s been seven years since the Seattle Strangler terrorized the city. His victims were all young, pretty, their lifeless bodies found wrapped in a home-sewn white dress. But there was one who miraculously escaped death, just before the Strangler disappeared...


Lara Church has only hazy memories of her long-ago attack. What she does have is a home in Austin, a job, and a chance at a normal life at last. Then Texas Ranger James Beck arrives on her doorstep with shattering news: The Strangler is back. And this time, he’s in Austin...

And Kill Again...

He’s always craved her, even as he killed the others. For so long he’s been waiting to unleash the beast within. And this time, he’ll prove he holds her life in his hands—right before he ends it forever...

Bestseller Burton (Before She Dies) delivers action-packed tension as a cold case becomes new again… a compelling romantic thriller.”
— Publishers Weekly on The Seventh Victim.

An excellent thriller, as well as a blooming romance, the author does a wonderful job of drawing readers in with the rapid pace and plot that include exciting and interesting back stories on all the victims. This is really a very twisted saga that readers will find unbelievably hard to put down!”
— Suspense Magazine on The Seventh Victim

Burton’s latest novel has a calculating villain at its center, plus a strong yet vulnerable heroine and a tough Texas Ranger who is determined to protect her and root out a killer. Burton’s crisp storytelling, solid pacing and well-developed plot will draw you in, and the strong suspense will keep you hooked and make this story hard to put down.” – RT Book Reviews, 4 stars

“Dark and disturbing, a well-written tale of obsession and murder.”
— Kat Martin, New York Times bestselling author.

Read an interview with Mary and see her newest book in The Texas Rangers series in these posts:

Enter to win a copy of THE SEVENTH VICTIM in Audio

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Win a $20 gift card – Kelsie Belle’s Eryn: The White Witch’s Legacy 2 Book Tour #EroticRomance @SensuousPromos

Welcome to Sensuous Promo’s ERYN: The White Witch’s Legacy 2 Book Tour. Watch for the Giveaway Below!

The White Witch’s Legacy 2: Eryn

Eryn Lancaster is grieving the loss of the only family she’s ever known, her grandmother Clarisse. She wants to sell their little business and move away from the village she has lived in all her life, in order to get over the pain of loss. Then a gorgeous business man walks into her little bookstore-cafe with an offer to purchase and turns her whole world upside down. But Eryn is in for the shock of her life when she finds out who she really is and just why Asher Valentino sought her out.

Ash is on a mission to help his brother's girlfriend, Raven, find her long lost sister, in order to defeat an evil sorcerer. But when he finally finds the enchanting beauty called Eryn Lancaster, the mission becomes the last thing on his mind. He wants her and he plans to have her by any means necessary. He plays a dangerous game of deceit by omission that almost gets him the prize he desires most, Eryn's body. But he soon learns that lies and lust could cost him the prize that he needs the most, her love.

A Siren Erotic Romance


Instantly, his hands found her drenched pussy and began to caress her. Then he was leaning down, his head settling between her spread legs and his mouth finding her hot sex. She quivered and moaned as his tongue swiped along the swollen slit of her opening, delving into her as it passed back and forth.

“Lift your blouse and fondle your breasts,” he commanded, easing his mouth off her pussy so he could speak. She quickly did as she was told, pushing her blouse up to expose her generous boobs and taking them into her hands. 

“That’s it baby,” he whispered his encouragement. “Squeeze those tits. Make your pussy flood for me.”

She expelled a long, low moan as his mouth returned to her pussy and began the sweet, torturous licking again. She pinched and tweaked her nipples, then rubbed the sensitive tips with her palms. The sensations created by the cool wind wafting across her skin, her smooth palms gliding over her nipples, and Ash’s mouth sucking on her clit were almost unbearable, and soon she was writhing in pleasure on the hard surface of the hood. Her pussy fluttered and pulsed, liquid fire oozing out of the hot hole as Ash’s expert mouth pleasured her sex. She continued to stimulate her breasts with her fingertips, adding to the sensations already overwhelming her nerve endings. Soon Ash was pushing her legs even wider and, sliding his stiffened tongue in and out of her entrance in a maddeningly deep tongue-fucking.

“Damn, Ash! I want more,” she cried, releasing her breasts to thrust her fingers into his hair, not caring two hoots anymore who might hear or see her. “Please, baby, I need your cock.”

He didn’t hesitate to grant her wish, pulling back to gently drag her off the car by her legs as soon as he heard her desperate plea. “Turn around and bend over,” he told her, unsnapping his jeans as he waited for her to obey his command.

Her skirt still bunched up around her waist, she bent forward until the tips of her breasts touched the cool metal of the car. She gasped when she felt Ash spreading her legs wider to accommodate him between them and then his heavy cock was at her entrance, pressing forward to ease inside her body. She groaned as he slid into her slickness, his shaft stretching her pussy, causing a twinge of discomfort to the still-slightly-sore tissues.

“Oh God, yes!” she cried, loving the feeling of being stretched to capacity, completely filled with his massive cock.

“Feels good, huh?” he asked, his voice a breathless groan, as if he was barely hanging onto his control. “So goddamn good!”

Please also check out the first book in The White Witch's Legacy: 

The White Witch’s Legacy 1: Raven:

When Xander Kane meets a delectable exotic dancer in a bar, he is instantly drawn to her striking beauty. He knows he has to have her, but when he finally convinces her to let him take her home, she disappears without a trace after they share an electrifying night together. He never thought he would see her again, but when fate takes her right back to his doorstep he is intent on making her pay for running out on him like she did. But Raven is not what she seems, and the secrets she hides, coupled with his own dark skeletons, threatens to destroy any hope that Xander harbored for them.

Raven embarks on a perilous journey to protect her mother’s legacy and finds herself fighting for her life at every turn. When she meets Xander Kane, he is everything she wants in a man and everything she cannot afford to let herself have right now. Will they be able to overcome the obstacles that confront them at every turn and find their way to love?

A Siren Erotic Romance


“Don’t come.” Xander’s voice was like a battering ram slamming into her head, interrupting the intoxicating sexual high she had been experiencing.

“No!” she screamed when his lips left her sex, his head moving from between her legs.

He chuckled softly, gently easing her legs off his shoulders and rising to his feet. “I say when, beautiful, never forget that. You come when I tell you to, only when I tell you to.”

She had to bite her tongue to quell the annoyance that welled in her stomach at his words. Who the fuck did he think he was? She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. She wanted to knee him in the groin and get the hell out of there. But when he took her hand and pulled her off the sofa, she couldn’t find the will to even resist for a moment. She was desperate for him, desperate for the pleasure she knew he could give her. Moisture seeped between her thighs when she noticed the lustful animal ferocity in his sea-blue eyes and her anticipation returned with full force. Oh God, maybe she was a whore after all!

He spun her around so that the fronts of her thighs were touching the arm of the sofa. He ran his hand over her shoulders and down her arms, reaching around to cup her breasts, as he used his body to push her forward. She was now fully bent over the sofa arm, ass held high, head lying on the soft cushions. She whimpered when one of his hands trailed a heated path along her spine to finally splay at her waist and hold her in place. His other hand delved between her thighs, easing the thong fully to the side as he sank two long, thick fingers into her body with exquisite gentleness.

“So eager, so fucking wet,” he whispered as he withdrew his fingers to fondle her clit before sinking them into her heat again. Myra couldn’t stop herself from gyrating on his hand. Her pussy clenched and gushed reflexively, loving the feel of his fingers inside her sex, wanting even more still.

“Please…please, I-I’m so...God, don’t make me beg.” Hot tears stung the back of her eyes when she heard the desperate, pathetic words that had just been uttered from her lips. How did he do this to her? How did he reduce her to nothing more than want and need without even trying?

“You don’t need to beg, beautiful, at least not tonight. Tonight I’ll freely give you what you desire, all that you desire.” He pulled back then, leaving her momentarily to quickly sheath himself with a condom. Then he was plunging into her, his powerful cock forcing its way into her tight channel, stretching her almost painful. A loud gasp escaped Myra when she felt him sinking into her. God, she’d forgotten how big he was. Jesus, he was so damn huge! She gripped the sofa for support as he filled her to capacity, inch by glorious inch.

“Christ, you feel good. So fucking good around my cock,” he rasped, his voice shaking with unleashed lust. He pulled back, sliding his cock completely out of her. She glanced over her shoulder wildly, afraid he would stop. Did he plan to just leave her hungry and desperate like this, to punish her? God, she wouldn’t survive it.

“Don’t go! Xander, please, I—”

“Shhh,” he said, and she watched as he held his magnificent cock in one hand and slowly rubbed it against her moist slit, teasing her until she was wiggling against him, pressing back to try and force him to enter her again. Then suddenly, he was at her entrance again, his thick member sliding into her like it was made to be there. She cried out as he began to fuck her steadily, pulling back and pushing in, finding a delicious rhythm that made her pussy clench and flutter.

“Yes…Jesus, yes!” she cried, curling her fingers into the cushion. Xander grabbed her hips and continued to fuck her at an almost leisurely pace, pumping into her with slow, torturous thrusts. Myra worked her hips, pushing back on him to try and get him deeper into her body.

“That’s it, beautiful, fuck me back.” 

Buy Links:

Author Info:

Kelsie Belle wears many hats – wife, mother and teacher are just a few but the erotic romance writer hat is by far her favorite. Kelsie is wildly gregarious by nature. She considers herself ‘forever 21’ and enjoys reading contemporary romance, Science fiction and fantasy, listening to music and dancing like there’s no tomorrow. A caffeine addict that lives life from one coffee mug to the next, she’s always on the go, ready and waiting for the next adventure.

She has been a storyteller for as long as she can remember, her characters live inside her overactive mind and a thousand stories come to life in her head every day. This novel is the first in her three book paranormal series The White Witch’s Legacy. It promises to be an exciting trip into her wild imagination and she hopes her readers will enjoy the experience of taking a ride outside the ordinary with her.

Author Links:

Twitter: @mskelsiebelle


Monday, November 10, 2014

50% Best-seller - Erotic vampire ménage has never been sexier!

By: Denyse Bridger | Other books by Denyse Bridger
Published By: New Dawning Bookfair
Word Count: 10,400
Heat Index
 Price: $3.99 $1.99

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Mobipocket (.mobi), Epub

In modern Toronto, two vampires stalk the night, their hunting a game that is seductive and deadly. In a darkly compelling Goth Club, they find the prey they seek for their pleasures, and the night runs crimson with blood and unquenchable thirsts....

Reader Rating: (2 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating:

Exclusive Excerpt:

She knew what she wanted tonight, and her senses resonated with his presence. Somewhere in this crowded mélange, Demetri deVerieux was lying in wait, his deviant desires beckoning to her with invisible fingers. In this alone was he like their maker, Stavros, with his ability to lure her into amoral desires until all that existed was her need to find release.

She paused at a dark corner, closed her eyes and reached out to the night. A shudder of rapture slid along her veins at his mental caress. He summoned her to him, taunting her with waves of memory and promises yet unfulfilled. Their game began in earnest.

Edgy and eager now, she rubbed her hands against the velvet of her skirt, her breathing rapid and shallow as harsh reality bit into her eagerness. Her present life was a necessary ploy to disarm an old enemy. Despite the pleasures they shared, her relationship with Demetri served a greater purpose. He was not the mate she had chosen to spend her eternity serving and loving.

She seized a seat at a sidewalk café, and took a moment to pull her emotions together, before he picked up on her distraction. Or the reason behind it.

She drew in a calming breath and closed her eyes. Demetri’s hunting games always triggered the memories seizing her heart. Shivering, she opened herself to the past. It was the only way she could hope to bury her secrets beyond his reach again…

The dreams came, as they always did, breaths of disjointed, blood-tainted images. Fragmented and disconnected, the scenes flew across her mind like clips from a movie in which she was the star. Terror assaulted her, a distant, abstract awareness, part of her, but not born of her. Within Cliantha, an unmistakable thrill of excitement awoke—a macabre delight in the fear that flourished all around her. A reckless surge of abandon filled her, and she threw back her head. Laughter filled the night, hers, and his.

A shudder penetrated the madness and she wondered who he was. She gazed up, drowning in eyes so blue, they filled her vision, and he smiled. That fleeting shift of expression sent a tingle along her spine that made her arch toward him, her body seeking contact with his. He laughed, sweeping Cliantha into his arms.

Before she could make sense of whom he was, the dream/vision skewed again… becoming one of lust and savagery as images blurred and aroused a hunger she couldn’t define. His lips parted hers and demanded her soul.

She gave it.

His taste and scent filled her senses, stirring a passion that threatened to make her scream for fulfillment. Still he teased her, his mouth searching out the most vulnerable places, plundering her secrets, revealing them to her with a wickedness that made him all the more terrifying.

When he refused to answer her broken pleas, she grew angry, and that, too, pleased him.

“Bastard!” she hissed.

“Take what you desire, Cliantha!” He matched her anger, but still smiled. “You can have anything you want, if you dare to claim it as your right.”

Her eyes swept over the man lying beside her and she rose to her knees. She stared at him, her passion swelling to an agony of exquisite need with each caressing shift of her gaze. With shaking hands, she stroked his silky platinum hair, while her sensitive fingertips traced the mocking smile that tilted the corners of his mouth. She parted his lips with a gentle probe of one finger, and punctured the tip against the razor-sharp edge of one extended fang. He licked the droplet of blood as she traced the fullness of his bottom lip.

“I hate you,” she murmured, leaning forward to straddle his hips. Her hands wandered over his smooth, cool chest, memorizing contours she knew better than her own. Touching him intoxicated her like a drug, addictive, senseless, and exciting beyond anything she’d ever known.

It had even ceased to matter that he had forced her into his bed. His dominance had long ago stripped her of the innocence she’d once possessed. She let another drop of blood drip from her finger; it pooled over his heart and she bent to lick the scarlet stain. This time he reacted, and the tiny shiver inspired deep satisfaction, making her smile down at him. Pure hunger blazed within her. A hunger he had cultivated and fed for decades. A thousand years could pass and she’d still crave his touch with an insanity that made her despise herself, and him.

“Show me how you hate me, bitch!” His hand tangled in the waves of blue-black hair that fell forward when he pulled her to him. She tore away from his embrace and glared down at him. Amused, he gripped her throat.

She arched her neck, inviting without a word. His blue eyes grew dark and dangerous. She rose and bent forward until her lips brushed his, then allowed her tongue to invade his mouth. Strong, elegant fingers drifted across her back, waking trails of fire that left her shuddering against him. She drew away from the bitter sweetness of his mouth and stared down at him again, her chest heaving with her effort to regain control of her body’s responses.

His hands at her waist shifted, found the fullness of her breasts and she moaned as he brushed his thumbs across the hardened buds of her nipples. Cliantha shook her head and slid back, pushing his hands away as she began to explore his pale, defined body. When her mouth finished its teasing trek across his chest, and closed over him, she shuddered at the rise of his hips.

“Hate me, Cliantha.” He was, even now, unable to resist reminding her that he allowed this erotic torture.

Her head rose and she smiled. Reflected in his glowing gaze, her fangs gleamed in the silvery haze of muted moonlight that illuminated the elegant room.

He pulled her to him and rolled, possessed her body with his, biting into her throat in the same motion. She spasmed in a shiver of pain and ecstasy. He mirrored her response when he drew back and she found the softness of his neck.

* * * * *

Cliantha gasped as the mixture of dreams and memories left her trembling and disoriented. She rose from her seat, annoyed because this always happened when she permitted the truth to surface.

Ten years ago, Stavros had reclaimed her from Demetri, but then Demetri had killed their master.

Demetri now owned her in ways she hadn’t believed possible. What had begun as a game she’d controlled had become an addiction, a trap from which she made no effort to escape. Even when the truth had returned to her mind, Demetri’s seductive hold remained unbreakable.

He’d destroyed Stavros, run a burning stake through his heart. She’d wanted to die that night, but Demetri refused to allow it. He’d forced her to live, lured her with his seduction and his passion for the darkest desires she could imagine.

When she had run to her oldest friend seeking shelter, Demetri had killed him while she watched. But, even now, she carried a secret he’d never discovered. He was so certain of his victory, he’d never questioned her absences.

Demetri had chosen tonight’s game, but before the hunt was over, she’d planned a few surprises for him. She stepped onto the sidewalk, moving through the throngs of humanity, and burying the past with determined will.

Monday, November 3, 2014

Erotic Fantasy: The Gates of Infinity #RomFantasy #MFRWauthors #eBooks

(A cross-world erotic fantasy romance)

Thaer is a world that mirrors our own, but in many ways it is both the past and future of Earth. Magic and sorcery are commonplace, and beneath the vast sands of Cairos and the waters of Venicia lie secrets that may hold the key to travel between worlds and time itself. All things are tied to the presence of a legendary pirate captain, a skilled mage, and a sorceress who has never known her true origins.

As the spells weave amid treachery and betrayals, the tempestuous storm gates are opened and salvation or destruction looms in their swirling, fiery depths. Will time be turned inward, or can the Fate of two worlds truly rest on the success of a terrified reporter from modern day New York? A woman whose fate was written in another world and time, and who now holds the key to the unpredictable power contained within the Gates of Infinity?

PART ONE begins:

It began several hundred years from now. Life conspires to take us where we are meant to be, even when we do not ourselves know the direction in which we are traveling. Thus it was that my uneventful existence began, and ended, with a single drop of blood, spilled unsuspectingly on a honed and gleaming pirate blade. In the now distant year of nineteen hundred ninety-nine, in the town of Avalon Inlet, somewhere in the hidden coastal regions of Northern Maine, I encountered the capricious Lady of Destiny. It is, even now, an incredible tale of adventure and, yes, of romance that is the stuff of dreams. My name is Verity, Veranna, or even Verianya—and if you will let me, I will tell you of my assignation with a magical and thrilling life forever altered by the whims of Fate....

“The entire place is a work of art,” Verity Mathison said with genuine reverence. She’d been stranded in the picturesque town since the previous evening, when her car had quite inexplicably decided it didn’t want to go any further. Being a journalist/novelist did have its advantages; in this case, as a freelancer, she tended to not keep ‘office hours’. Finding the small town with the fanciful name of Avalon Inlet was a writer’s dream come true. Not only was the place not on any map, it was something out of a time long passed into history.

The young shop girl smiled the expression pretty with pleasure at the compliment.

“We’re a small community,” she said, voice soft with a slight lilt. “Things don’t change much from year to year.”

“Is everyone here of generations past, or does the town have any new blood?”
“Once in a while strangers find us and decide to stay,” she answered, still smiling, though with less sincerity than before.

“Why aren’t you on the map?” Verity wondered, looking around the crowded antique shop. There were vast riches in this place, the writer mused, examining a display of weaponry that had to be at least a couple of centuries old. Since she had entered the shop, a tiny thrill of excitement had been growing stronger within her as the minutes passed. In spite of the lack of sense in it, Verity felt as though she’d found some lost part of her soul reflecting back at her as she examined the array of artifacts that filled the quaint shop.

“How much is that one?” she asked, pointing to the shiniest and least ornate of the swords that were arranged on a wall behind the counter.

“It’s not for sale,” the clerk told her, eyes now sharp, thoughtful, and unmistakably wary.

So that’s your game, Verity thought with cynicism. The price had just jumped considerably, she knew. But, like everything else, it would have a price.

In spite of her decree, the girl reached up and lifted the shimmering blade from its place amid the other swords. Motion fluid and graceful, she spun the cutlass and offered it to the curious stranger, hilt first.

With a combination of near-fear and undeniable excitement, Verity stared at it. The lurch of her stomach was eloquent testimony of her surprisingly intense nervous state. With a will of its own, her hand rose and she watched in detached fascination as her fingers closed around the well-worn grip of the archaic weapon. As soon as her hold was solid, she was forced to drop the sword; heat seared her flesh and she cried out, cursing furiously as the pain pulsed upward along the length of her arm.

The shaken clerk stared at her as though she’d gone mad.

It wasn’t the pitying look one gave a lunatic, however. There was sincere terror in her eyes as she watched the other woman, and Verity knew she didn’t help the situation by glaring at her in unjustified accusation. That didn’t lessen her anger, of course, because somewhere inside her, she did blame the hapless girl for not warning her of the potential threat in accepting the sword from her hands.

Not waiting for comments, or assistance, if the girl was indeed planning to offer any, Verity turned on her heel and left the shop. As she glanced back, she caught the name of the place, The Mahjrah Treasure Chest. She was now quite unimpressed with the pirate’s plunder.

* * * *

The following day, fool that she sometimes was, Verity returned to the Treasure Chest and again was drawn like a magnet to the rack of weapons on the back wall. The sword hung in its place, seeming to stare back at her in subtle challenge.

“Have you come back for old Ehtionne’s sword, miss?”

The girl from the previous day was gone; in her place was an ancient man, stooped and weathered by time. But, his eyes were sparkling with vitality and shrewd intelligence. As Verity gazed into those keen dark eyes, the sensation of edgy excitement began churning deep within her.

“Ehtionne?” She repeated, at a loss to form more than the single word query.

He nodded, then hobbled around the counter and gestured for her to follow him. They stopped in a small alcove that was separated from the main area of the shop by a curtained doorway. Once inside, Verity discovered a tiny gallery of aging paintings. The old man pointed to the largest of the collection and her heart felt like it wanted to grow wings and leave her body as she stared at the face of a stranger who’d haunted her dreams from childhood.

“My God!” she breathed in unequivocal shock. “He’s real.”

The old man looked inordinately pleased, and she tried not to resent him; there was no reason for such emotion.

“You recognize him.”

It was more a statement of presumed fact than any form of real question.
Verity shook her head.

“No,” she denied. “I must have seen his face in books. I’ve researched this area’s folklore and pirate legends.” Even as she made the assertion, and tried desperately to believe it, she knew it to be a lie. The old man knew, too, she could read it in his steady brown eyes.

“There are no photos of Mahjrah in any of your books, miss,” he assured her in a soft, almost regretful tone.

As she had the day before, Verity ran. This time she didn’t escape the confines of the shop. When she flung aside the curtain and would have bolted for the doors, she ran straight into the young girl who’d been there the previous day.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice and eyes glaring with anger.

“Leaving,” Verity snapped, her responding irritation more reflex than anything genuine.

“That part of the shop is not open to the public,” she informed the visitor. “It’s our storage room.”

“Storage room?” Verity repeated stupidly. Anger flared in the next instant, and she glowered at her. “The old man took me in there,” she told the annoying girl. “And it sure as hell doesn’t look like a storage room!”

The clerk was giving her that disturbing look of pity and fear again.

Verity was furious.

“If you don’t believe me,” she snarled at the shop girl, “he’s still back there.” She turned, yanked aside the curtain, and was met with the solid presence of a heavy door, the sign in the center of it proclaiming that it was to be used by ‘Employees Only’.

“If you’ll wait, ma’am,” the girl said, ice in her tone now. “I’ll allow you to speak to the manager.”

Gawking at her, Verity numbly trailed her back into the main room, then watched her disappear behind another door. Silence engulfed the shop and she continued to look at the partially revealed doorway that had led to the small gallery.

“Are you still interested in the cutlass, miss?”

The voice went through her, and she was enraged anew. She whirled around and the old man smiled benevolently.

“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded, taking a step toward him.

He calmly walked to the other side of the counter and took the sword from its mounting. He twirled it with remarkable skill and Verity took an involuntary step backward when he held it out for her to take.

“No, thanks,” she assured, sarcasm in the tone. “I’ve already had that experience once, and it’s quite enough.”

He appeared amused all over again and wrath rose in her throat as a bitter bile. He was laughing at her!

“All right,” Verity snapped viciously. “Give me the damn thing.”

Her fingers closer over the hilt and she braced for pain.

It never came.

Enthralled by the feel of the weapon in her hand, she stared at it. Her other hand rose to stroke the smooth, cool metal of the saber and a whisper of something powerful trembled along the length of her arm. Oblivious to anything else, she touched the edge of the silvered blade with the side of her thumb. A prick of pain warned her that she’d tested well-honed metal rather foolishly. Blood welled and spilled onto the blade, a single crimson teardrop of life.

The reaction was immediate, and terrifying.

The polished metal clouded, became translucent, tinged with the scarlet of blood; then the images began to coalesce before her spell-bound gaze. The small shop in Avalon Inlet no longer existed. Her head felt like it was spinning, and reality growing ever more distant, yet closer, as well. Someone screamed as Verity fell into the chaos that she’d glimpsed in the gleaming blade of the sword...

Sunday, November 2, 2014

New York Times Best-selling Author @MaryBurtonBooks chats about her new release! (Giveaway)


Mary Burton enjoys hunting serial killers.  A New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist, she’s tracked them down in her hometown of Richmond, Old Town Alexandria, Austin and, now, Nashville in books that have brought her acclaim and a loyal readership.

Mary’s been intrigued by investigative work and the people who do it since Virginia was stung by a string of serial killings spanning more than twenty years.  So, it’s not surprising that many of her novels, for which she’s been compared to Steig Larson*, Lisa Gardner**, and Lisa Jackson***, are propelled by the acts of multiple killers and the people who pursue them. COVER YOUR EYES, her latest, follows suit and is the first of four stories set in Nashville featuring the Morgans, Music City’s preeminent law enforcement family.

Mary's admiration for the work of law enforcement and the skills, insights and tools it requires, is evident even in her earliest forays into suspense, such as 2005’s In Dark Waters, in which a romance evolves when the Sheriff's office is called upon to solve a murder in rural Virginia. Later plots explored arson investigation, a flawed witness protection program, and the reopening of a cold case.

With her novel I'm Watching You, Mary began connecting characters over several books, taking individuals from the same police department or law enforcement agency of one book and giving them their own story in another. For I'm Watching You she created a homicide unit for Richmond, defined its strengths, weaknesses, people and resources, and kept those people and elements in place through two additional stand-alone books, Dead Ringer and Dying Scream.

The multi-book arc gives Mary several additional creative options and not only for character development. She notes that the larger canvas also allows her to incorporate more of the forensic and procedural detail that fascinates her and readers, and to explore dynamics unique to teams of investigators working together over time.

In addition to her Nashville novels, Mary’s other "connected" books are Senseless, Merciless and Before She Dies, all set in Alexandria, and The Seventh Victim, No Escape and You’re Not Safe, featuring investigators from the Texas Rangers. 

Mary's research includes interviews with law enforcement personnel, forensic seminars and lessons at the firing range.  She is a graduate of the Henrico County Citizens Police Academy and the Richmond FBI Citizen's Academy, and has attended Sisters in Crime's Forensic University program and the Writers Police Academy in Jamestown, North Carolina, where the curriculum has included undercover work, autopsies, and theories of why people kill.

Despite her emphasis on hard facts in the crimes she portrays, Mary's approach to each new novel is psychological. To begin her story she needs answers to three questions about her killers:  Why do they kill? What demons drive them? And, how do they choose their victims?  The answers are as critical to her plot, she says, as they are to detectives solving a murder.

A Richmond native with family roots as deep as the nation's, Mary has made her home there for most of her life.  She is a graduate of Virginia's Hollins University and worked in marketing before committing to write full time. Her first manuscript, a historical romance, was published in 2000.

Mary wrote several more romance novels before embracing the dark world of suspense. She’s even managed to bring danger to her holiday novellas  A Ranger for Christmas, featured in the 2014 anthology, OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS, with works by Lisa Jackson, Mary Carter and Cathy Lamb, and Christmas Past, which appears in the New York Times bestselling holiday anthology Silver Bells.

The author of twenty-two published novels and four novellas, Mary is a member of Thriller Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America and Sisters in Crime. She travels frequently for signings, book club visits, and speaking engagements at conferences, book festivals, book stores and libraries. She is also known for her highly regarded "Unraveling Romantic Suspense" workshop and her day-long program "Writing Your Book...The First Step.”

An avid baker and an accomplished cook, Mary's discovered that the creativity of the kitchen entwines with her professional routine in unanticipated ways.  It’s her ideal retreat when the writing hits a rough spot. Once there, she's working out dialogue, untangling plot lines and figuring out how to trap a killer before the oven has a chance to preheat.

When not committing murder, Mary pursued her Baking & Pastry Arts Certificate at the University of Richmond's Culinary Arts Program, completing it in June 2014. She’s also involved in adoption issues and has made appearances on behalf of Coordinators2inc, a lifetime adoption resource organization.  She and her husband spend time alternately enjoying and lamenting their newly empty nest and spoiling their miniature dachshunds Buddy, Bella and Tiki.

Mary is currently at work on her fourth Nashville novel, and anticipating the May 2015 publication of her new Union Street Bakery novel, At the Corner of King Street, written as Mary Ellen Taylor. 
*Publishers Weekly, **Library Journal, ***Library Journal


Welcome, Mary, and thanks for joining us!

You chose Nashville as the setting for your new suspense novel, COVER YOUR EYES. What drew you to that city?
Several things made Nashville the right choice for COVER YOUR EYES and the three connected books that follow.  I wanted a big city setting, but one small enough that its families, traditions, politics and institutions are part of the fabric of people’s lives, not impersonal. When I visited Music City for my first Killer Nashville conference, it gave me the same sense of permanence and personality that drew me to places such as Austin, Old Town Alexandria, and Richmond for earlier books. Once I knew I was going to write about music and murder, it just felt right that my fledgling characters would call Nashville home.

So, how do music and murder mix?
             The story opens as Dixie Simmons, an up and coming singer whose late night set pulled her audience to their feet, is discovered dead the next morning, viciously murdered.  She was last seen on her way home, just a half-block from her car. Enter homicide Detective Deke Morgan who is reminded of another case, that of another woman, a singer whose high profile killing was solved by his late father thirty years ago, and which lawyer Rachel Wainwright is trying to reopen.

No spoilers, but can you tell us more about that?
             Yes. As I mentioned, Rachel is working to overturn the guilty verdict in the decades-old murder case closed by Deke’s father. She’s arguing for the release of DNA test results she believes will prove her client innocent and, thinking she’s being stonewalled by the police, has gone public with her quest.  Deke says he’s not interfering but she doubts he’s bothered to do anything to speed things up. She knows he and his siblings don’t want anything to harm their father’s reputation—or theirs as the city’s preeminent law enforcement family. Neither trusts the other and as the present day killing spree continues, Deke and Rachel each hold pieces of seemingly different puzzles, useless until they somehow find the link between past and present.

You said there are three upcoming books tied to COVER YOUR EYES. How are they connected?
             Each features one of the four Morgan siblings—three brothers and a sister and is set in Nashville.  After COVER YOUR EYES comes BE AFRAID in May 2015. It’s Rick’s story.  He’s recovered from the bullet wound he received while working undercover and has joined the homicide team.  Alex takes center stage in November 2015’s I’LL NEVER LET YOU GO. He’s an agent for the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.  After that is Nashville Police Department forensic expert Georgia’s book.

Where can we find out more about your books and what’s coming next?
             I post updates and photos and check in often on Facebook so there's lots of info there.  And my site is always open for business.  Plus, as my calendar shapes up for 2015, I expect to have a number of opportunities to visit with readers and other writers.  Event listings can be found at

             Thanks for having me!


“Help me figure this out?”

The question mark didn’t hide the command woven around the words. “Me. But I’m the enemy.”

The intensity in his eyes softened a fraction. “Perhaps not as bad an enemy as I first thought.”

Electricity snapped between them and a force she’d never known tugged at her.  Suddenly, she wanted to touch hi. To feel the rough stubble of his chin under her fingertips and against her cheek.

Jesus, Rachel, really? He’s the last guy you should--

Rachel silenced the warning. “Thanks.”

Deke’s gaze ignited with an intensity that nearly took her breath away. She felt devoured by his gaze and he’d not made one step toward her.

He was a man who lived his life apart.  Out of necessity, yes, but also maybe a little out of fear. She understood that fear.  The fear of feeling too much. Their kind of emotion was a double-edged sword that cut easily.

But in this moment consequences hovered on a distant horizon far out of sight. She had only now and the tension pulling her toward him.

She took one step. “Stay.”

© 2014 Mary Burton COVER YOUR EYES

COVER YOUR EYES by Mary Burton
Kensington Books/Zebra Mass Market Original/Fiction
November 2014/On Sale 10-30-14/$7.99 ($8.99 Canada)
978-1-4201-3211-3/eBook 978-1-4201-3212-0