Two Haunted Men + More than One Secret = Uninvited

It’s been a little while since I posted. As many of are already aware, I write as three people – sometimes four and I have been finding lately I love writing the erotic thrillers more and more. I tell you though, they take a lot more out of me as a writer and personally. Thrillers are really hot in that you are able to weave murder and mystery smack into the middle of your piece. BUT… the twists and turns can really catch you if you’re not careful. So… In penning Uninvited – it started with a song from Alannis Morrisette and turned into a thriller about an undercover detective who loses his way…more than once. Coming on May 17th from Rebel Ink Press. Take a taste of the 4th in the Retribution Collection.

UNINVITED

“She’s choice, brother. You want a piece of her? I just might let you have some.” Sniffing, the man looked up from the teary-eyed woman who wore a look of horror.

“Nah. I got me a little woman. What the hell would she say if I took a piece?” Stone breathed as anger raced through him. He didn’t sign onto the job for this bullshit. Looking away briefly, he knew he had to keep his mouth shut but damn it, he was sick to fucking death of the insanity. The guy was barely human. No, Michael was the epitome of evil personified and Stone was on a personal mission to rid the world of his kind.

“Oh come on. This is sweet meat and easy too. Ain’t nothing better than taking what you want. Your little bitch ain’t gonna be none the wiser. What’s wrong? You a pussy, boy? I don’t hire me no faggots in this organization.” Snorting, Michael cupped the girl’s chin and hissed as he twisted and squeezed her face.

Shaking his head, Stone stepped back away from the scene. “I just like mine begging for my cock.” He stole a glance at the girl, who couldn’t be more than twenty, and resisted yanking out his gun and killing the fucker. They were so damn close to nailing this guy. So close but far enough he knew they powers that be would pull him from the case if they couldn’t get enough ammunition against him. He stole another glance at the girl and sucked in his breath. Strapped to the bed, strings of dark mascara were a garish reminder of the madmen he was working for. Goddamn how much of this shit had he seen? Girls were kept like animals to be played with and toyed with and… No, he could barely take the entire scene any longer, no matter what the hell it meant.

Groggy, the girl squealed behind the thick duct tape.

“Oh the bitch’ll be beggin’ for it. Trust me.” Climbing off the bed, he unfastened his belt as he chuckled. “I got balls the size of grapefruit.” Freeing his cock, he stroked down the length of his shaft as he turned to glare at Stone. “You’re staring. You wanna watch or what? Might learn somethin’ from the master.”

“I’m leaving. Just remember we have a timeline, man.” Yeah, the master of brutality. Holding up his hands he started to walk out of the room. The second he made it to the door he sucked in his breath as he heard the sound of her dress being ripped. Walk out. Don’t play the cards. So close. So fucking close to shutting down not just one asshole but also others. Hell, he didn’t even know half of the freaks involved, but he knew enough to realize the situation was getting out of hand. But sweet Jesus, he was one man. Stone
swallowed hard and eased into the tiny living room toward the kitchenette of the sleazy motel. Goddamn he was tired of spending time in shit holes. He’d been deep under cover for so fucking long he was no longer sure of his own name. Michael Siska was one bad man but far too well connected and had skated around the law for years. Stone was determined to stop him. This was daddy’s pride and joy after all and his to keep and protect. What a fucking joke.

Hissing, Stone rubbed his tired eyes and tried not to concentrate of the ugly sounds coming from the other room. The poor girl was squealing and fighting. He thought about the few nights he’d been able to help the girls, if you could call throwing them scraps of food helping. How men lived this way was beyond him. Gripping onto the counter, he attempted to control his breathing. The asshole was not only a major player in a series of drug-riddled crimes including high class brothels in the city but also had a penchant for raping and mutilating women when they got out of line. This was the third time Stone had to stand by while the freak got his jollies off on hurting some innocent girl. Thank God none of them ended up dead or he’d have to blow his cover. The man’s behavior was getting out of hand. Even his lieutenants, as Michael liked to call them, could barely tolerate his level of savagery.

And protecting certain family members was supposed to be a step up. For him it was a one-way ticket into hell.

His pulse racing he started pacing the floor as the sounds continued, the girl crying in anguish. As she wailed, Stone heard what had to be the sound of the asshole backhanding her hard. Then as a series of slaps and grunts filtered into the room he sucked in his breath.

”Shut the fuck up, bitch! You fucking whore!”

Bam! Crack!

Stone cringed and fingered the gun nestled in the back of his pants. As the sounds of her being beaten escalated he knew he’d had enough. Taking three long strides, he made it into the bedroom and stopped short. “What the fuck are you doing?” The girl was barely recognizable from the blood covering her face and neck. Beaten unconscious he wasn’t even sure the girl was breathing.

“Get the hell out of here! You were offered and refused. Just givin’ the tramp what she deserves,” Michael snared as he continued plunging his cock into her savagely.

His body shaking, Stone exhaled slowly as a series of vibrant colors swirled around his field of vision. “Stop fucking beating her.” He closed his eyes and tried to hold it together but rage thrashed through his body until he was barely able to breathe.

“I said get the fuck out.”

As Stone slowly opened his eyes he could see the girl had turned her head and was pleading silently for help. Jesus Chris she was awake for this horror. Sucking in his breath, he licked his dry lips and couldn’t take it any longer. This was never going to end. Suddenly snapping, he yanked his gun and cocked it and realized the freak was too busy raping the girl to hear him. Holding the revolver with both hands he pointed the muzzle toward Michael. “One chance. Stop hurting her. Now!”

Without looking Michael simply laughed. “Fuck off, freak.”

Stone shook his head as he closed the distance and said a silent prayer to a God he would never believe existed.

And then he pulled the trigger.

 

****

 

Flicking his finger across the seam of his mouth, Raine Thompson sighed in contentment. No, he was excited for the first time in a solid few months. They were out together enjoying the simple things in life just like they used to. And nothing was going to fuck it up. The thought giving him a smile, he grabbed his wine glass, swirling the ruby red liquid before taking a huge gulp.

“You look at me like you want to eat me instead of what will be a delicious dinner,” he whispered as he leaned over the table.

“There’s no doubt I’ll have you for dessert and perhaps more than once.” He couldn’t help but smile as he gazed at Brent Miller, his significant other. There was something so engaging about his lover’s smile, including the scar he wore like a badge of honor. From the man’s dancing blue eyes to his shaggy hair, Brent always managed to leave Raine breathless. As he lifted his wine glass in salute, he gave Brent a heated look.

“Well, I guess the birthday hunk does deserve certain treats tonight. But then again it begs the question. Have you been a good boy all year?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining the last time I was sucking your cock.”

Brent broke into a mischievous grin as he shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.” Sighing, he gazed out the window of the restaurant into the darkened night. Exhaling slowly, he fingered the rim of his glass in an aimless pattern.

“Why the long face?”

“Just business. I’m just worried. You know me.”

“I know you’re worried but the economy is going to turn around. Besides, we said no shop talk tonight.” Easing his hand across the table Raine brushed the tip of his finger back and forth across Brent’s wrist. When Brent pulled his hand away quickly Raine knew there was something else going on. “Spill it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you too well. Remember? Me? I’ve been your live in lover for like four years.” While he smiled Raine could feel the tension mounting between them. He took another sip of his wine and concentrated on the crowd in the restaurant, pretending to give a shit. The seafood restaurant was their favorite and one they reserved for special times. Oddly enough they hadn’t been here in over six months. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the reason why but they’d simply stopped doing the majority of things they loved. Then again they hadn’t had a whole lot to celebrate in quite a while and the economy was only partly to blame.

Tick. Tock.

“You might as well tell me.”

Brent shrugged and sat back in his seat. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you this tonight but I have to go away on business for a couple of weeks – maybe longer. I don’t know.”

SYNOPSIS

A monster shattered Raine Thompson’s life. On a single stormy night, he lost the man of his dreams to a murderer who was never caught. Forced out of his home and away from his friends and family, Raine started a new life in a far away location but one close to a childhood friend, Carlos Tempata. Raine became a recluse as he continued his quest to hunt down the killer himself. And in his tormented dreams, a face continued to haunt him every night. A secret from his past was hell bent on destroying him. Just as he believed he’d remain alone for the rest of his life, a chance encounter on the beach reminded Raine he had to live.

Justin Cameron was a mystery man who showered Raine with not only his affections but also his wealth. Finally enticing him into a relationship, Justin offered Raine his heart in return for Raine’s undying love. But somehow the man wasn’t who he claimed to be and held more than just secrets. As Raine’s dreams became nightmares and his life was placed in jeopardy, Carlos worked to discover the truth against a backdrop of continued deceit. As a series of damning events turned into tragedy, Raine is forced to make a choice. One that could destroy everything he holds dear.

Let me know what you think…

Later  

DH

Flash Fiction Friday… She Really Doesn’t Know Me

It’s time for another taste of flash fiction. It’s where several writers get together and comment on a picture telling a story with exactly 100 words. Here’s my take this week and since I write thrillers you know it can’t be all about love.

Don’t forget to enjoy the other talented writers.

 

SHE REALLY DOESN’T KNOW ME

He could tell she had no clue who he was and that surprised him. Granted, he’d changed over the years but for Lacy not to recognize him was troublesome.

“What’s wrong?” Lacy asked as she cocked her head.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

“Oh no you don’t. We just finished making love. What’s wrong?”

Breathing in deeply, he moved closer to the bed. “You really don’t know me.”

Laughing, Lacy finally rose onto her elbow. “I thought I did. Is there more?”

“There’s much more.” Glancing over at the handcuffs, he was going to wait for the right moment.

Before she died.

Hope you enjoyed.

Later…

DH

Benjamin Russell: http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com/

Cassandre Dayne:  http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/

DH Black:  http://dhblack.wordpress.com/

Naomi Shaw: http://midnightfantasieswithnaomishaw.blogspot.com/

Muffy Wilson:  http://muffywilson.blogspot.com

Kendel Davi: http://kendeldavi.wordpress.com

Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/

Sherri Hayes: http://sherri-hayes.blogspot.com/

Bonni Sansom: http://bonnisansom.blogspot.com/

Sherry Palmer: http://michellechatton.blogspot.com

Katie Harper: http://katieharperwrites.blogspot.com/

Cyril J. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.ca/

Venus Cahill: http://www.venusbookluvr.blogspot.ca/

Davee Jones:  http://finless.blogspot.com/

S.J. Maylee: http://sjmaylee.com

The Fire Burning Within…

The Easter Blog Hop continues today and Hoppy Easter to everyone. I have a piece that’s been on the best seller list at Omni Lit for several weeks and I can’t be more thrilled or honored. I love to write about every day heroes and that’s what the collection is about. I hope you’ll join the others on the hop and please comment for a chance to win one of the collection.

INFERNO – THE RETRIBUTION COLLECTION

BLURB

Troy Danton was everybody’s hero. A firefighter with the Cleveland Fire Department,
not only did he love his job but his success in rescuing victims brought him accolades in a despondent town. Sexy and down to earth, his quiet demeanor and rough-hewn good looks made him a media darling after every ugly event. A true ladies man, little did the rest of the rugged men in his close-knit firehouse know about his true desires. Maintaining a reserved persona, he was happy living his life in secrecy until a single damning moment rocked his world, exposing the man behind the mask. One tragic fire changed his future forever. As pieces of his life were uncovered he was labeled a freak as shades of terror held a paralyzing grip, jeopardizing his career.

Emily Waters was the darling of her father’s eye and when Christian lost her he was devastated, choosing solace in a bottle. In less than a year the two loves of his life were taken from him in tragedy shattering his already fragile world. Unable to cope, he almost succumbed to taking his life until a chance encounter with one television interview dragged him out of the pits of hell. Curious about the man who was no longer a hero, Christian made a determination to seek revenge on the individual who was the cause of his anguish. As the two men squared off against a community under the thumb of some powerful men, suddenly they were faced with more than just personal tragedies. There was something horrible happening in their beloved city and required all hands on deck and a choice had to be made. Fortunately one fire investigator believed in Troy’s innocence but was not only threatened to remain quiet, she held a dark past of her own. As two men were forced to face each other and their abusive pasts they each found a kindred spirit and comfort in their heated passion. But would it be enough or would one lose his soul and possibly his life?

EXCERPT

 

“Die?” Dillon sucked in his breath. “In a fire?”

“Yeah. I heard his screams and I was paralyzed. Shit, I couldn’t do a damn thing for several seconds and I barely got him out of the building before the floor went.” Troy’s hand shook as he stole a glance at Dillon.

“But you did save him and of course you care. That’s just the kind of guy you are and always will be.”

“Yeah I saved him but so what? I’m not the hero everyone thinks I am. You think way too highly of me.”

Dillon shook his head. “And you think so little of yourself. Granted, you’re not the entire world’s hero. You’re just not and if no wonder you’re freezing up because of all the damn pressure you’re putting on yourself. It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s my job!” Troy snapped. “That’s why I’m telling you I can’t fucking do this any longer.”

“Okay. What do you mean by any of this?” Dillon asked as he eased down onto the rug.

“Everything. My job and my life. I just don’t know who I am any longer,” Troy hissed as he gazed into the fire. “Maybe I never did.” He couldn’t even tell Dillon about parts of his life preferring to harbor what he considered to be the darker side of himself deep within. Still, Dillon knew about his kinky needs and his midnight jaunts given the way they’d met but it remained like a poison eating him up inside.

“As I said, not sure you ever did.” Sighing, Dillon remained quiet sipping his wine before finally taking the glass out of Troy’s hand and setting both down. He brushed his hand across Troy’s and allowed the quiet comfort to be the only needed words.

Troy allowed the action for a minute before pulling away and leaning back on the rug with both hands. “I’m sorry. I think I need to go. I’m not very good company right now.”

“No, you suck but…” Dillon smiled and then rolled his eyes. “I’m no expert on any of this but I’m always just been me. Even as a kid I was wild and opinionated not caring what others thought about me. I think modeling has made me hard. You care way too much about what other people think of you. I don’t know how to help you, Troy. Yeah I know I had a family who supported me through everything so that mattered. I know you didn’t and still don’t.”

Troy chuckled. “No, there was no family and growing up in a Catholic orphanage wasn’t the best method of allowing me to be me.” And that was the single reason he didn’t have any real love of religion and some said why he was fearless in his profession. He had little to lose. Everything he cared about had been stolen from him years before.

“Even your brother remains hard on you.”

“He cares but he doesn’t understand.”

“That’s an understatement. Why don’t you consider taking a break from your job? Take a vacation. Travel the world. Do something for just you. Hell, I’m going on a modeling stint in a couple weeks in Paris. Maybe we could go together.”

“Yeah. I don’t travel and I’m not sure what I would do with myself all alone.” As soon as he said the words he could see how hurt Dillon was. “It’s not you and I didn’t mean I would go with you.”

Rising to his feet Dillon waved his off as he grabbed his wine. “Time for a refresher.” He walked away without looking back.

Troy hissed. Why was he so damn bad with this shit? He was forty years old and hadn’t had a decent relationship in his entire life. While he’d been with beautiful women at times over the years, somehow they left him cold. The longest he’d ever been with someone was four months. Even when he finally admitted he preferred men the relationship with Dillon was the longest but it wasn’t a relationship at all. The sex was fantastic and their private conversations intelligent and insightful but every time Troy left Dillon’s place he went back into hiding. He now wasn’t sure if he was hiding from his sexual needs or the rest of him.

“Look. I can’t seem to say anything right. I care a hell a lot about you and I know it’s got to be damn tough what you do every day,” Dillon said as he walked back slowly. His eyes were haunted but he smiled.

“You want me to leave?” Shuddering, he stood up and could cut the tension between them with a knife. He was such an ass to Dillon sometimes.

“No, I want you to stay. But I’m not going to push you to do anything. You can certainly stay here and enjoy the fire if you don’t want to be alone or we can talk of whatever but I’m just a bit tired of being here only when you need me so we’re going to have to think about what we’re doing after tonight. I deserve more.”

It was as if hearing the words really made Troy think about what the man was saying. “You’re damn right and I’m an asshole. I’m not very good as saying I’m sorry but I am. It doesn’t mean I know what to do to make it better but I promise you I won’t treat you like just my sounding board or my toy any longer. Not fair to you.”

The words hung in the room and Dillon sighed as he closed his eyes.

Troy could see he’d hurt the man terribly and knew he was destined to be alone. “I’ll go. I won’t call you like this again. I promise.” Walking toward the door he grabbed his coat as his heart thumped in his chest. He’d managed to make a damn mess out of everything. Again.

“Tell me something?”
Stopping short Troy didn’t turn around. “What?”

“Does this mean we can’t fuck any longer?”

The playful tone had returned in Dillon’s voice and Troy couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t know. What do you think you want?”

“You ask me that after all we’ve shared and all we’ve hungered for together?”

Troy dropped his head and laughed. “You have a way with words.”

Hope you enjoyed…

 DH

Enjoy a snazzy video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcLFrsnck6A

Join the others in the blog hop

 

http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/

Cops Going Under Cover…How Far is Too Far?

Happy Easter and another blog for you – don’t forget to comment for a chance to win a book. I designed The Retribution Collection as a way of brining you the extremes of what our heroes and heroines will go to in order to save lives, love or simply humanity. The first piece is about two cops who go so far under cover posing in a BDSM club run by the mafia in order to save women from being sold as white slaves over seas, they become lost in the concept.

ENSLAVED – isn’t for the faint of heart and when the piece was pulled from All Romance E Books because this censorship bull – I continue to be incensed and am fighting for it’s return. At the end of the day it’s a crime thriller and a love story and on in truth I am VERY proud of. It’s still available at Amazon and Bookstrand so please enjoy…

ENSLAVED

BLURB 

Shawna Wills was one tough white girl. Oh she could fight with the best of them, especially her fellow officers in the Philadelphia Police Department. And her sexier than hell half cajun half black partner, Steffan Myers knew how to protect her back. They’d seen each other through too many fallen relationships and murders in their life to even consider a relationship. But fellow detectives were slaughtered in a messy undercover scheme in Baltimore, causing the local Internal Feds to call them into action. The slain officers had pretended badly that they could be sexual partners in the most heinous BDSM slave club on the East Coast. They failed.

Shawna and Steffan were given an order by their superiors and they had one week to perfect it. Become lovers, learn the art of domination and submission and get an invite to work for the notorious sex slave club, The Black Art of Love. Run by the most notorious group of mafia and the owners suspected trafficking in underage runaways, they had a job to do. Stop the entire operation. Trained by the most handsome and elusive Dom in the city, Drake Simons, he teaches them to stretch their limits of love and sex. And Shawn begins her path down a road of submission – her secret desire.

The club itself is something that neither of them are prepared for. Voyeurism, public sex shows and multiple partners don the stage every night. And the owner takes an immediate liking to Shawna, desiring her to become his slave. His needs are simple and Shawna will succumb. As Steffan and Shawna’s relationship turns from a job to something else, their very understanding of partnership enters into a phase they can never turn back. And as Drake takes them under his wing and introduces them to the lifestyle, he becomes interested in joining their life. But can they survive the darker side of sex and bondage with their minds intact as a monster waits in the wings? As the girls are taken and used as slaves for the wealthiest clients in the city and from overseas, they fight to find the answers before its too late and before they’re cornered for their deceit.

 

EXCERPT

“Come in.” Sergeant Ryan Compton ushered them in closing the door behind them. “Sit please.” He’d been their Sergeant for the entire time Steffan and Shawna had been partners. A fair man, he cared for his men and women and would die for them easily.

Usually jovial in nature, the stern look on his face concerned Shawna. “What’s up Sergeant?” Unnerved, she remained standing.

“Please sit.”

Steffan grabbed a chair and forced her into it and stared at the Federal Officers as she eyed his concerned face. “New case?” He eased into the seat next to her.

The agents shifted and both crossed their arms but their eyes remained darting across both officers.

Sergeant Compton sighed heavily as walked to the corner folding his arms. “This is important guys and we need to give our full cooperation to the agents. We have two officers down. It’s bloody and brutal.”

“What?” Shawna glanced back and forth at the two Feds. Their shadowed faces were laced with exhaustion and fear. When federal agents were ripe with any level of apprehension, her hackles went into overdrive. Something was very wrong.

“Not here. They occurred in Baltimore but our brothers in arms have been searching for the same criminal element we have been for a long time.”

Shawna glanced at Steffan. Given his history with the New Orleans force, she knew he could get a better read on what was really going on. “What are you talking about?”

The Sergeant looked toward the agents, yet they kept their mouths closed. “Okay. You guys have been following the Lugiano Family for years.”

“Yeah, of course. Can’t get a damn handle on them period but not for the lack of trying,” Steffan said.

“Well, we have more than a handle on them. We believe they’re directly responsible for the deaths of two officers working undercover.” Sergeant Compton flipped a chair, crossing his legs over as he sat across from them. Pushing a file folder toward them he winced. “Look guys, this is serious business.”

Steffan opened the file and edged it toward Shawna. “Jesus. These are the officers?”

Shawna grimaced. The bloody and tortured remains needed multiple body bags. There was little left to distinguish.

“We believe the Lugiano family found out they were working for us and had them slaughtered. The bodies washed up on the shore in Baltimore yesterday morning.” The taller Fed showed no emotion.

“And you are?” Shawna glanced in his direction.

“Federal Agent Mike Skinner, Detective Wills.” He darkened eyes bore years of cases such as this.

“All right Federal Agent Skinner. What does this have to do with us?” Already on edge, her sparring personality rose to the surface.

Steffan casually flipped through the pictures. “Okay guys, the killings were meant as a clear message here. How long were they under cover?”

“Six months,” the second agent stated.

“Six months doing what?” Shawna asked. Their department knew the Lugiano family well. Hell, every cop up and down the East Coast did. They were more than bad news. When the family came to town, people died. Their family was considered to be the last remaining Mafia leaders in the United States. There wasn’t a department that didn’t want a piece of them. There also wasn’t a department that hadn’t tried and failed. Although torturing and slaughtering two detectives meant something much more significant and they all knew it. She glanced into their faces and her cop instinct told her there was more to the story than they wanted to tell.

Even the Sergeant looked uncomfortable. He looked away, minutes ticking by until he finally cleared his throat. “The Lugiano family owns a series of BDSM clubs up and down the East Coast. The agents were working as a team in on of the clubs to glean information from the oldest Lugiano son that owned it in Baltimore.”

“Aren’t those kind of clubs legal now?” Steffan asked staring back and forth between the three men.

“The majority are. However their clubs are trafficking in drugs,” the other Fed stated dryly.

“Drugs? Is this what this is about?” Shawna asked becoming disinterested as not their department.

The three stood, hands in their pockets and glanced around the entire perimeter. The case and their involvement were clearly not about drugs. A knowing look passed between Steffan and Shawna. “Gentlemen, what aren’t you telling us?” Shawna asked as she glared back and forth between the Feds.

Sergeant Compton cleared his throat. “The clubs are harboring drugs but we fear they are using under age kids in the clubs.”

“Runaways?” Steffan asked.

“Mostly,” Officer Skinner stated.

“Mostly. What the hell aren’t you telling us?” Shawna challenged.

Sergeant Compton looked at the Feds waiting for their answer and shook his head when they remained quiet. “Guys, the kids are being used in the clubs as sexual objects and their games are deadly. This isn’t the kind of club you can imagine. Every desire, every kinky act, anything that a client wants is allowed. They have shows that are extremely sexual in nature and there is a tremendous audience for what they are providing. The kids, while not the regular performers are being used for wealthy individuals. They are forced to perform acts that are very dark and deprived, almost violent as in acts of group sex. Voyeurism. Bondage. From what I’ve heard and seen, everything you can imagine.”

Steffan stared out the window. “Okay. We get this is horrific. Two officers were killed because their cover was blown. Kids are probably being used in the clubs. Drugs are floating all around the clubs and this is directly linked to the mafia. So what is it you need us to do exactly?”

“Work undercover,” Agent Skinner said quietly.

“Doing what?” Shawna asked.

Both agents glanced away. It was Agent Skinner who spoke. “Performing together.”

Shawna blinked several times, eased off her chair, clicked her jaw and stared at the Sergeant only. “What exactly do you mean by perform?”

What do you think? Could you go that far under cover?

I hope you enjoyed. 

Watch a sexy video for the entire collection

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcLFrsnck6A

Later

DH

Don’t forget to enjoy the others in the blog hop.

http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/

 

He Knows Everything About You…Easter Blog Hop

There’s something very powerful about serial killers and they methodology they use in their killing. I love writing thrillers and there’s something so very powerful to me about a monster who can control the situation, especially your mind. The Retribution Collection is all about control – from out heroes and heroines unsure of how much they have to the absolute control killers and other criminals think they have. But do they really have the power?

A taste of my latest release…

RAVAGED

EXCERPT

Do you hunger like I do?

Do you crave what only I can give you?

Come…be with me forever…

Hiding in the shadows, he stood watching her. It would be impossible for her to detect his presence. He was always very careful. Cocking his head, he scrutinized every aspect of her appearance and nodded in approval. There was something beautiful about her and the way she handled herself. Of course he’d watched on more than one occasion, studying her every move and every aspect of her daily routine, but tonight was somehow more special. Every cell in his body ached to touch her but he was strong in his convictions. Never would he allow himself to interfere. Instead, he remained a voyeur simply indulging in a fantasy. Sniffing, he followed closely behind as she moved through the darkened streets toward her car.

Given the light breeze, he garnered a whiff of her perfume and the musky scent filled him with hunger. Licking his dry lips, he was forced to adjust his aching bulge. He longed to taste her, fuck her and then kill her. It was his way and she was interfering, but he wasn’t ready yet for the end to come — for forever. No, he wanted more time to play. Resisting a chuckle bubbling to the surface, he placed his hands in his pockets and glanced up at the star filled sky. After the bars and restaurants were closed for the night was the only time he was comfortable tempting his fantasies and stalking his prey. And here he was out before curfew. Smiling, he knew he was risking his entire plan but she was too desirable to resist. She’d called to him unknowingly and he had to see her. There was something so delicious about knowing her schedule.

Somehow the thought gave him a deep-seeded desire. If only he had the courage to reach out and take her here and now. No. It simply wasn’t time yet and he had to mask his true identity from her powers. They’d be growing soon enough and when they did he’d be forced to end the game completely. There was much to be done. The sounds of the city filtered into the dark area and while she was cautious, hugging her purse to her body, she was confident in her manners, her steps. Merely going about her business, she was unaware a monster lurked in the shadowed light.

As she turned what he knew to be the final corner, he heard the blipping sound as she unlocked her car door. He continued to watch her every move from the way she brushed her hair back from her face to the moment she scanned the perimeter of the parking lot before she climbed inside. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Too bad she was going to die. At least in her death would be redemption.

He took a stride back further into a dark alcove as the engine roared to life. Headlights flashed in his direction and she took off, heading straight for his hidden location but he wasn’t afraid she’d see him. After all he was nothing more than a ghost. When the car roared past, he stepped out into the hazy light and emitted a strangled sigh. Standing still for several minutes, he cocked his head and attempted to calm his desires. He was in too much need. Perhaps it was time for a snack to squelch the growing rage.

As he moved up the street he kept his head down until a noise caught his attention. The scent of a woman was difficult for him to resist. Hearing feminine laughter coming in his direction, he could see what appeared to be a young woman talking on a cellphone. Perhaps this was karma. He kept his stride even as he walked toward her. There was no reason for her to be afraid. After all this was a fashionable part of the city near some of the most eloquent clubs in town, many of them catering to the darker side of sex for the wealthy and privileged. The closer he came to her the more he hungered. Not only was she a beautiful creature but she also reminded him of the one he really wanted. From the girl’s long hair and creamy white skin to her very sensual manner of dressing, she was almost breathtaking and very innocent. Or was she? Honing in on her call, he grew incensed.

“No, Kiki. Seriously. That’s not what he was talking about. I tried to tell you this before,” she said as she brushed her hand down her skirt. “I know. He’s an asshole. There’s no doubt about it. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt but he was just trying to get me into bed. Not that I would mind but on my terms period. He thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips. Hell, he just pretended to be rich but I Googled him and know better. The man’s almost broke. Can you believe the nerve of him?”

Clenching his fist, he emitted a low hiss. Why were they all the fucking same? He slowed his gait, allowing him to hear more of her conversation as he eyed the darkened storefronts. They were closed for the evening. Stepping into the shadows, he waited for the perfect moment. There was no doubt in his mind he was right in doing this, saving the bitch from herself.

“Like I said, I’m going home to slide into a tub with a glass of wine and then I’m going to read a romance novel about men in shining armor. You know, real men instead of these cheap bastards. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” The second she closed the phone shut she started walking faster, the clip of her heels echoing into the dense air.

When she passed he stepped out behind her, inhaling a scent of not only her perfume but sex. The woman had engaged in some manner of carnal activity only recently. Sighing, he pushed up his sleeves and closed the distance. All women were alike – bitches. Ridding the world of their kind was his good deed for mankind. Sighing, he smiled at the thought. If only the little people knew how much he was really helping them.

The second he wrapped his arm around her neck she issued a strangled gasp that was immediately cut short by the brut strength of his muscles. “Ooohhhh…” She struggled, kicking out and catching him in the shins only causing him to clamp down harder.

Squeezing with a practiced force, the sharp crack of her neck breaking was a delicious reward for all the hours he’d suffered. “So beautiful and so damn stupid.” Chuckling softly, he dragged her lifeless body into the shadows. As he turned her around to face him, her vacant eyes held the moment of shock and instant death. He shivered from the utter beauty of the kill. “My. You’ll be a perfect addition.” He grazed the tips of his fingers down the side of her face before lowering his head and brushing his lips across hers. Her body sagging in his arms, he pulled back and allowed a low growl to erupt from his lips. He dragged out the knife and gazed at the serrated edges, licking his lips. As he held the sharp point to her throat he thought about the love of his life.

“Soon, my beloved. Soon.”

 

****

 

Do you hunger like I do?

Do you crave what only I can give you?

Come…be with me forever…

 

Carrington Winters snapped her head up and sighed before catching a glimpse of her notepad. She’d been doodling again. As she read the words twice she grimaced and looked down at the small trashcan nestled against the corner of her desk. She’d written the same passage at least six times in the last two nights. And every time in red ink. Hell, she didn’t even know she owned a red pen. “What’s wrong with me?” The answer was far too damning to think about. Push away the ugly thought. Yeah, that’ll do it. Growling, she shook her head. She was simply exhausted from her self-imposed brutal schedule. That’s all. Time to get back to business.

Brushing a damp strand of hair from her face, Carrington fingered her teacup and sighed. “It’s almost done. Almost?” Blurry eyed, she gazed at the screen and realized all the letters were starting to melt together. Groaning, she sat back in her chair and took a sip of the lukewarm tea. What she really wanted was a tall glass of merlot, but if she didn’t hit send on her manuscript tonight there would be hell to pay. After all, her editor had been patient. The wine could wait until she was absolutely done. The damn errand had cost her nearly two hours. She hated traffic and traffic jams and assholes that acted like the road belonged to them.

Chuckling, she knew she would probably kill off the bastards in her next book. Probably? She was in the business of killing creatively. The thought gave her a smile. Mixing erotic and mass murder was an interesting twist but one she loved. There was no doubt she was enjoying being able to murder some of her characters and not simply have them romp in bed over and over again. Brushing the tip of her finger back and forth across the seam of her mouth, she reread the last two pages and then read them again. Dear God she was bone tired but she had to finish. “You can do it.” Giving her computer the finger, she giggled. Sleep was highly overrated. Still, she loved the book and was thrilled with the outcome.

Her Hidden Desires, Carrington’s highly anticipated second in her gritty erotic crime thriller novels, was already pre-sold to the tune of thousands at every major e-book shelf Internet store and failure to deliver wasn’t an option. The brick and mortar stores had surprised her with the quantity of their orders – or shocked her editor anyway. The story was headline material. Centered around an incredible real-life event in her hometown of Portsmouth Ohio almost three years before, Carrington knew this one could be a best seller.

Climbing to her feet, she walked to the bulletin board nestled in the back corner of her office and fingered the copious newspaper clippings pinned across the four by six corkboard. She’d read every article, every Internet piece in an effort to garner the feel of the dark story. The murders had shut down the small town for two months and the killer had escaped. Shivering, she held her arms and wasn’t able to go down the road of wretched memories. She’d come too far to fall into the trap again. Her story was simply a way of giving a voice to the mutilated women and to give them retribution within the pages of her novel. While completely fictional, with every scenario totally different than the actual chain of events, the haunting piece was certain to ruffle a few feathers. Carrington only hoped the publication wouldn’t drag her into hell.

In truth, changing from being what some called a fluffy erotic romance author to an erotic crime storyteller was a calculated risk and one she welcomed with open arms — hence the name change to C.W. Wynters for the planned series. Exhausted, Carrington sauntered toward the bank of windows, allowing her a spectacular view of the great lakes, and sighed as she palmed the glass. There was no doubt she loved Chicago but every once in a while she was homesick for her small town nestled at the banks of the Ohio River. Shaking her head, she gazed out at the star filled sky and smiled.

 

 

SYNOPSIS

Erotic Mystery Writer Carrington Winters finally finished the remaining changes to her highly anticipated second book, Her Hidden Desires. On a tight deadline and seriously sleep deprived, a frenzied late night email sent to her editor lands Carrington’s book and all her very secret, very personal desires in the hands of sexy widowed architect, Jackson Devereaux.

Haunted by the murder of his wife, Jackson finds Carrington’s manuscript and her very guarded needs too tempting to resist. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to go? Finally throwing his inhibitions aside, he believes Carrington’s email is a sign and develops a plan to meet her. Inspired by the sinful scenarios played out in every chapter, he sets out to figure out why she hides behind a wall shrouded in mystery. As they learn to trust and explore their growing desires, they begin a cat and mouse game of guarded rendezvous’ until a shadowy murderer seeks revenge and targets their budding love. As heinous murders begin occurring, Carrington is forced to face a past she was determined to shelve in an ugly black box but secrets and lies refuse to be denied.

And as the police begin to suspect Jackson as his wife’s killer, a series of evil messages and late night sightings terrorize Carrington. The killer won’t take no for an answer and Carrington is threatened with not only her life but the truth behind Jackson’s mask. What secrets do they both hold that could tear them apart just as they unleash their wildest dreams and deepest hungers? When the killer is finally revealed, a shocking turn of events drags them both into a circle of danger one of them might not survive.

I hope you enjoyed…

Later

DH

Please join everyone else for the fabulous event.

http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/

When She’s Late… Flash Fiction Friday

Welcome to my thriller zone. It’s Flash Fiction Friday and today is a more sensual take on a picture than last week but for pieces I create, much of the shared intimacy between my characters is all about control – and sometimes dying. For those of you who don’t know, Flash Fiction is a where a group of talented writers pen exactly 100 words based on a picture. Here is one for you today and btw – I’m also involved in the Easter Blog Hop so stop by later to catch more excerpts and hot tastes of my crime drama.

WHEN SHE’S LATE

“You’re late. You’re always fucking late,” Charles hissed as he stubbed out his cigarette and swung his feet off the couch. “You know what happens when you’re late.”

Shivering, Kat nodded as she walked closer. There was something about his power over her she could barely resist and yet she wasn’t certain what lengths he would go to keep her in line. To discipline her as he always told her. “I’m sorry. I was held up at work.”

“I’m sorry?” Shaking his head, he rose from the sofa and gave her a look.

“I’m sorry, sir. Please punish me.”

“Mmmm…”

I hope you enjoyed and please check out all the other talents…

Muffy Wilson: http://muffywilson.blogspot.com

Lee Brazil: http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com

Katie Harper: http://katieharperwrites.blogspot.com/

Jp Archer: http://jp-archer.blogspot.com

Kendel Davi: http://kendeldavi.wordpress.com

SLira as Michael Mandrake: http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com

Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/

Davee Jones: http://finless.blogspot.com/

Cassandre Dayne: http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/

DH Black: http://dhblack.wordpress.com/

Sancre Darling: http://sancredarling.blogspot.com/

SJ Maylee: http://SJMaylee.com

Patricia Logan http://naughtypassions.blogspot.com/

Yvonne Nicolas: http://yvonnenicolas.wordpress.com/

Here’s the blog hop link and remember – over one hundred authors are participating.

Later…

DH 

http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/

Ready for more little slut? Flash Fiction Friday

Well, for many of you who know me, I write in several genres and DH is all about gritty crimes and mass murderers. It’s Flash Fiction Friday and for my first, the inspiration is tasty and reminds me of a recent release. For those of you who don’t know what it is – it’s a little snippet written from a pictures and only 100 words. Take a taste but careful – not for the feint of heart. Don’t forget to visit the other writers bringing you their thoughts and tastes…

LITTLE SLUT

Inhaling deeply, the scent of her alone reminded him why he was here. While the pretty, little bitch had no idea who he was, he was going to make certain she never forgot his presence. “Ready to get fucked?” Slut?

“Oh, yes.” Panting, she palmed the sheets and spread her legs.

They were all alike and this time the whore wouldn’t get away. “Very good.” Thrusting the entire length of his cock into her cunt, he shuddered.

“Dear God!” Yelping, she dropped her head, arching her back.

Chuckling, he reached behind him and lifted the razor-sharp knife. “Ready for more?”

 

I hope you enjoyed.

Later… DH

Bonni Sansom: http://bonnisansom.blogspot.com/

Lee Brazil: http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com/

Benjamin Russell: http://incubuschronicles.blogspot.com/

Havan Fellows: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com

Kendel Davi: http://kendeldavi.wordpress.com

Yvonne Nicolas: http://yvonnenicolas.wordpress.com/

SLira as BLMorticia: http://blrawiyaerotica.blogspot.com

Sherri Hayes: http://sherri-hayes.blogspot.com/

Jp Archer: http://jp-archer.blogspot.com

Davee Jones: http://finless.blogspot.com

Cassandre Dayne: http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/

DH Black: http://dhblack.wordpress.com/

Venus Cahill: http://www.venusbookluvr.blogspot.ca/

ER Pierce http://www.erpierce.com

Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/

Sherry Palmer: http://michellechatton.blogspot.com

Cyril J. Michael: http://authorcyriljmichaels.blogspot.com/

The Dark & The Dangerous

I love writing about characters who take you mind to a place of terror and the need to pull the covers over your head at night. That’s what reading horror stories or thrillers are about. Right? I think as humans we’re all fascinated with the ugly men and women who are hell bent on destroying our safe worlds and we don’t mind watching what level of depravity they’re going to fall into. Master serial killers, rapists, terrorists and other insane people drive us sometimes. On the flip side of their ugly madness are the man and women to fight every day hard against their brand of tyranny.

In The Retribution Collection, I pen pieces that are about criminals – and the ones who are so savage that we can barely understand how they can do what they do. I also then give you the options about what our police officers, firemen and women, and other every day heroes must to – such terrible lengths they have to go in order to preserve society and the way of life as we know it. These stories are filled with monsters who grip our minds in a wretched state and yet we continue to gravitate toward wondering and reading more and hoping.

It’s all about salvation and making sure the monster gets it in the end. Do some officers of the law cross the line? My guess is they have to whether they go undercover or are avoiding a direct order from a superior. BUT… they feel they have to in order to save lives. That’s the kind of stories I’m telling.  Now what if YOU didn’t know if you were capable of doing something so horrible? What if your nightmares kept you awake, fighting with thoughts and memories and you were worried you were the murderer? Isn’t that a horrible thought?

Ravaged is no exception in bringing you the ugly side of people. It’s about a monster that lives inside our society and doesn’t just target victims by chance really. He or she has a purpose in what they are doing and they are also targeting a woman who has been inside his or her mind. She knows what the killer is capable of and while she’s tried to run away from her abilities for years, she’s forced to face an ugly combination of necessity in order to try and save lives. Can she do it? Just released from Rebel Ink Press.

RAVAGED – THE THIRD IN THE RETRIBUTION COLLECTION

EXCERPT

Jackson hated late night meetings, especially when they came so unexpectedly. What he hated the most was being away from Stasia. As he headed back to their condo on the subway, he sighed and gazed down at his volume of notes. There was something about the client that bothered him but anyone paying a copious sum for such a small project he couldn’t push away. Sadly, the client was only in town for a few days and had a hectic schedule so meeting at nine at night had been the only opportunity to meet the deadline.

He’d had to leave Stasia a message, which probably meant she was on the cell phone with one of friends – and she had one too many of them in his opinion. Groaning, Jackson knew he was acting more like a Neanderthal than a husband but he worried about some of her friends. Having a wife so much younger certainly had its share of idiosyncrasies but she was out all the time lately and acting odd. Then again the relationship had some other aspects that were terribly tempting. The thought giving him a dark chuckle, he eased back against the bench seat and flicked through files on his iPad. If he could get the contracts signed before they left then he had a solid deal for a few months anyway. The money would certainly come in handy – especially now.

As the lights flashed on and off in the half full train, Jackson tried to concentrate on his files but he kept coming back to the continued arguments he and Stasia were having. Lately they’d gotten fairly brutal moving into screaming matches. Hell, he’d even gone out with his buddies just to ease the tension, returning to find her asleep in the guest room. Then he’d fallen into a stupefied haze and they argued again the next morning. They needed to talk. No, they needed to get away from the influence of her friends. Even sex had become a chore and the few times he’d talked about his needs she’d made fun of him in her quiet manner.

Shaking back the ugly thoughts, he gazed out the window at the flashing lights and simply waited for the train to stop at their station. When the car jerked to a halt, he climbed to his feet and headed for the door and for some reason his heart was heavier than usual. The closer he got to their condo the more apprehensive he became. Perhaps it was her last words as she held up the glass of wine mid dinner — I’ll never be the important one in your life.

And there was no way for him to dispute what Stasia was saying. Jackson was working so damn hard on his business he wasn’t good at taking time off to simply be a husband. Well, that was going to change. As he shifted his eyes toward the gleaming building full of windows and steel, he had a fleeting thought about moving out to the suburbs. After all Devereaux and Associates was his business – even if there was only one associate so far. He suspected a small place outside the city would be lower in rent and he certainly less costly. Maybe he’d pose the idea to her.

Halfway to the elevator Jackson realized she probably wouldn’t want to leave her circle of friends or be that far away from her job. Compromise neither of them were very good at. Determined, he leaned against the elevator as it climbed to the twentieth floor and wished he’d stopped at the all night grocery and picked up a bouquet of flowers. It was early. Maybe they could open another bottle of wine and snuggle in front of the television.

As he opened the door he could hear the sound of the television blaring from the den. Dropping his things on the small side table, something sticking out of the kitchen door caught his attention. “Stasia. I’m home.” He headed toward the kitchen and scanned the perimeter of the living room. Something seemed out of place and yet he couldn’t put his finger on what it could be. As he stopped just outside the kitchen door he could see the tipped over wine glass and it seemed odd. While the glass wasn’t broken, he knew better than to think Stasia would leave the remnants of the wine splashed on the all white counter. He picked up the towel from the floor and could see something red all over it. Was it blood? His heart racing, he tried to calm his nerves but something wasn’t right.

“Stasia? You okay?” Hearing nothing, he almost panicked and moved quickly toward the hall. There was nothing in either guest bedrooms or the bathroom but as he drew closer to their bedroom his heart started racing. Suddenly his head started to pound like a son of a bitch. Gulping air, he had to blink furiously in order to focus. The door was closed. Stasia never closed the door. There was something about boogey men sneaking up on her that had haunted her from the time she was a little girl. Had she left in a huff? Dear God! What if she’d taken the opportunity to leave him?

“Stasia!” Wrapping his hand around the doorknob, he slowly opened the door. The stench hit him hard in the stomach first. As he opened his eyes wide, trying to comprehend what he was seeing, he threw his hand over his mouth, everything moving in slow motion. Jackson took a step forward and then another until the sound of something squishing beneath his feet forced him to look down. Opening his eyes in horror, he tipped back his head and screamed.

“Aaaaahhhh!”  Struggling hard to get out from under the madman holding him down, he lashed out punching hard and fast against the forces trying to hurt him, kill him. Kill her. “Stasia!”

“Jackson! Jesus!”

“What…What!” Panting, Jackson’s entire body was shaking from adrenaline. Slapping his hand over his mouth, he could barely breathe. Somehow he managed to tumble away from whatever was keeping him locked down. Hitting a hard surface, the forceful thud knocked the wind out of him.

“You have a great right hook. That’s what. My God! Are you okay?”

As reality slowly set in, Jackson knew it was Betsy’s voice above him. “I…um…”

“Lord. You’ve never had a nightmare like that before. Are you okay?”

Groaning, he shifted and eased his back to the bed. His heart continued to race but at least he knew where he was. “I’m okay.” As Betsy’s words registered finally he jerked his head up. “Oh shit! I hit you!” Scrambling to get to his feet, he couldn’t believe he’d lashed out at her.

Shaking her head, Betsy exhaled slowly. “Have these nightmares been happening this way?”

“No, not since the beginning.” He moved onto the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hand. “I don’t know why tonight.”

“Well, I guess in some odd way it could be because of me telling you I’m leaving.”

SYNOPSIS

Erotic Mystery Writer Carrington Winters finally finished the remaining changes to her highly anticipated second book, Her Hidden Desires. On a tight deadline and seriously sleep deprived, a frenzied late night email sent to her editor lands Carrington’s book and all her very secret, very personal desires in the hands of sexy widowed architect, Jackson Devereaux.

Haunted by the murder of his wife, Jackson finds Carrington’s manuscript and her very guarded needs too tempting to resist. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to go? Finally throwing his inhibitions aside, he believes Carrington’s email is a sign and develops a plan to meet her. Inspired by the sinful scenarios played out in every chapter, he sets out to figure out why she hides behind a wall shrouded in mystery. As they learn to trust and explore their growing desires, they begin a cat and mouse game of guarded rendezvous’ until a shadowy murderer seeks revenge and targets their budding love. As heinous murders begin occurring, Carrington is forced to face a past she was determined to shelve in an ugly black box but secrets and lies refuse to be denied.

And as the police begin to suspect Jackson as his wife’s killer, a series of evil messages and late night sightings terrorize Carrington. The killer won’t take no for an answer and Carrington is threatened with not only her life but the truth behind Jackson’s mask. What secrets do they both hold that could tear them apart just as they unleash their wildest dreams and deepest hungers? When the killer is finally revealed, a shocking turn of events drags them both into a circle of danger one of them might not survive.

 

I hope you enjoyed…

Later

DH

 

WHERE TO FIND ME

http://dhblack.wordpress.com/

dhblack@dhblack.com

 

http://www.omnilit.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=D.+H.+Black

When He Has Control Over Your Mind

I mentioned to someone yesterday that I write serial killers very well. There’s something for me about getting inside their minds that I love. I am psychic and was tested as a child and while I think we all lose some of our abilities, I still have certain connections. When I write pieces meant to terrify you, yes I do tend to create violent crime scenes and some would say this isn’t romance write. Perhaps it’s not but there is a growing erotic horror and erotic thriller genre that DH Black’s pieces fall into.

Ravaged – releasing March 17th from Rebel Ink Press is indeed a love story but it’s also a tale of one woman’s mental torture through the years simply because she can see and talk to others. And one child who grows into a monster refuses to allow her to live her life. She tries to run but in the end he always finds her. Now, she is forced to face him or never have a chance at a normal life. However the stakes are very high and so many people over a decade have lost their life. What can and erotic romance writer do?

RAVAGED – THE RETRIBUTION COLLECTION

REBEL INK PRESS

SYNOPSIS

Erotic Mystery Writer Carrington Winters finally finished the remaining changes to her highly anticipated second book, Her Hidden Desires. On a tight deadline and seriously sleep deprived, a frenzied late night email sent to her editor lands Carrington’s book and all her very secret, very personal desires in the hands of sexy widowed architect, Jackson Devereaux.

Haunted by the murder of his wife, Jackson finds Carrington’s manuscript and her very guarded needs too tempting to resist. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to go? Finally throwing his inhibitions aside, he believes Carrington’s email is a sign and develops a plan to meet her. Inspired by the sinful scenarios played out in every chapter, he sets out to figure out why she hides behind a wall shrouded in mystery. As they learn to trust and explore their growing desires, they begin a cat and mouse game of guarded rendezvous’ until a shadowy murderer seeks revenge and targets their budding love. As heinous murders begin occurring, Carrington is forced to face a past she was determined to shelve in an ugly black box but secrets and lies refuse to be denied.

And as the police begin to suspect Jackson as his wife’s killer, a series of evil messages and late night sightings terrorize Carrington. The killer won’t take no for an answer and Carrington is threatened with not only her life but the truth behind Jackson’s mask. What secrets do they both hold that could tear them apart just as they unleash their wildest dreams and deepest hungers? When the killer is finally revealed, a shocking turn of events drags them both into a circle of danger one of them might not survive.

EXCERPT

Do you hunger like I do?

Do you crave what only I can give you?

Come…be with me forever…

 

Carrington Winters snapped her head up and sighed before catching a glimpse of her notepad. She’d been doodling again. As she read the words twice she grimaced and looked down at the small trashcan nestled against the corner of her desk. She’d written the same passage at least six times in the last two nights. And every time in red ink. Hell, she didn’t even know she owned a red pen. “What’s wrong with me?” The answer was far too damning to think about. Push away the ugly thought. Yeah, that’ll do it. Growling, she shook her head. She was simply exhausted from her self-imposed brutal schedule. That’s all. Time to get back to business.

Brushing a damp strand of hair from her face, Carrington fingered her teacup and sighed. “It’s almost done. Almost?” Blurry eyed, she gazed at the screen and realized all the letters were starting to melt together. Groaning, she sat back in her chair and took a sip of the lukewarm tea. What she really wanted was a tall glass of merlot, but if she didn’t hit send on her manuscript tonight there would be hell to pay. After all, her editor had been patient. The wine could wait until she was absolutely done. The damn errand had cost her nearly two hours. She hated traffic and traffic jams and assholes that acted like the road belonged to them.

Chuckling, she knew she would probably kill off the bastards in her next book. Probably? She was in the business of killing creatively. The thought gave her a smile. Mixing erotic and mass murder was an interesting twist but one she loved. There was no doubt she was enjoying being able to murder some of her characters and not simply have them romp in bed over and over again. Brushing the tip of her finger back and forth across the seam of her mouth, she reread the last two pages and then read them again. Dear God she was bone tired but she had to finish. “You can do it.” Giving her computer the finger, she giggled. Sleep was highly overrated. Still, she loved the book and was thrilled with the outcome.

Her Hidden Desires, Carrington’s highly anticipated second in her gritty erotic crime thriller novels, was already pre-sold to the tune of thousands at every major e-book shelf Internet store and failure to deliver wasn’t an option. The brick and mortar stores had surprised her with the quantity of their orders – or shocked her editor anyway. The story was headline material. Centered around an incredible real-life event in her hometown of Portsmouth Ohio almost three years before, Carrington knew this one could be a best seller.

Climbing to her feet, she walked to the bulletin board nestled in the back corner of her office and fingered the copious newspaper clippings pinned across the four by six corkboard. She’d read every article, every Internet piece in an effort to garner the feel of the dark story. The murders had shut down the small town for two months and the killer had escaped. Shivering, she held her arms and wasn’t able to go down the road of wretched memories. She’d come too far to fall into the trap again. Her story was simply a way of giving a voice to the mutilated women and to give them retribution within the pages of her novel. While completely fictional, with every scenario totally different than the actual chain of events, the haunting piece was certain to ruffle a few feathers. Carrington only hoped the publication wouldn’t drag her into hell.

In truth, changing from being what some called a fluffy erotic romance author to an erotic crime storyteller was a calculated risk and one she welcomed with open arms — hence the name change to C.W. Wynters for the planned series. Exhausted, Carrington sauntered toward the bank of windows, allowing her a spectacular view of the great lakes, and sighed as she palmed the glass. There was no doubt she loved Chicago but every once in a while she was homesick for her small town nestled at the banks of the Ohio River. Shaking her head, she gazed out at the star filled sky and smiled.

There was something so peaceful about working from home in the wee hours of the morning. More committed than ever, she headed back for her desk determined to finish the book, grab a glass of wine and ease into a sudsy bath. Then maybe when she finally fell into bed she could sleep without the vicious nightmares jolting her every other hour or so. Shivering, she licked her lips and pushed the ugly thoughts away as she glanced at her watch. Thank God she didn’t have any early appointments.

Staring at the last paragraph for what had to be a full five minutes, she rubbed her eyes and then repeated the passage out loud, unsure if anything she’d typed for the last hour made any sense. “And as Sheila glared down at the killer, knife nestled in her bloody hand, she smiled. There was something about the way his vacant eyes looked shimmering in the moonlight that remained mesmerizing. After all, she’d seen his domineering eyes gazing down at her every time they’d made love. Her body shaking, she remembered all the lies and the promises. Hell, she’d been such a fool but no longer. She was different now and one who would never allow a man to take advantage of her again. Hearing the subtle plop, plop sound she finally tilted her head, enabling her to look directly at the slickened tile floor. She brushed the back of her hand over her swollen lips and caught a glimpse of the knife, glistening in the dim lighting and couldn’t help but smile. The pool of red blood reminded her she was very much alive and the monster, her monster was dead. Dropping the knife, Sheila held her hand in front of her face and began laughing as the realization hit her hard. She’d become the monster she’d so feared.”

“Not bad.” Rubbing her arms as a cold shiver trickled down her back, Carrington nodded over and over again. The ending was definitely much grittier than the one before. Her editor knew better after all. Then again, this was a far different ending than the real story. Finally satisfied, she saved the piece and opened up her email. As she searched for her editor’s email address she laughed. A new computer, a new operating system and a new email account meant no saved email addresses. Sadly, the switch had been a necessary evil since her entire life had been hacked and certain files corrupted while she’d taken a few days off.

Imagine if her private monster is watching..

I hope you enjoyed

DH

GIMMICKS IN WRITING, CENSORSHIP AND CAPITALISM

Are there any easy moments being a writer these days? In truth I don’t think so. There’s so much changing in the business and right now there seems to be more than just rifts with who and how books are getting sold. Now we’re moving into the area of chastising each other as authors because of our personal beliefs in everything from promotions – too much versus not enough to debating the issues of just what is a romance book. Come on guys. None of this either makes it easier on any of us nor does it solve anything. We all have opinions about especially about censorship but knocking each other and especially in public just has to stop.

I’ve sat on this whole Pay Pal thing other than stating in a writer’s room on Facebook that one of my books was pulled. Well, the reaction after I explained why has really gotten me to thinking – an initially my thoughts were rather on the ugly side. For any of you who know me as a person I am balls to the walls and will tell it like it is. It’s one reason I could never play in politics and yes I say play. The good news is that the book was simply re-shelved with another category and another place but what remains in my mind is that a good number of writers don’t think the book deserves a place in the romance category period. I don’t know about you and maybe my ideas of romance are different but when two characters strive to get together against all odds, love each other and are forced to make sacrifices – that’s romance to me.

But okay, to each their own and this isn’t about whining. I hate whining and so many people tend to do it every day. Let’s talk about the business of writing and what it really means. It’s very different than the old days when I was a kid and longing to be a writer. Now I’m fortunate I guess in that stories burn within me every day. I can come up with ten stories a day and they all HAVE to be written. Of course you pick and choose and the longer you’re in the business the more you realize – as it slams you in the face – what sells and what doesn’t. In just talking in a room we were saying that writing has to be a business and to that end what works for some writers doesn’t work for others. You have to find your sweet spot and know what your readers are looking for.

That takes time. If you’re a new author you write what’s been burning within you for years. That’s fabulous but know that you might be in a very different place in a year. That’s where I’m at and in truth learning to embrace that not everyone is going to enjoy my work. That’s okay too. But I’m switching it up and learning what the readers prefer and that might change in a year as moods change. What was popular then is like the kiss of death now but hey, I love my vampires! So I have a piece coming out for Halloween as my other pseudo and we’ll see.

What I think every writer has to face in the inner beast. We all have one and that beast usually is called self-doubt followed by self-pity. In a phrase – stop being a stupid child. It’s not a business for the faint of heart. Trust me here – I just went through DAYS of crying because of the self doubt issues and then I finally said, girl it’s time to re-look and re-vamp what you’re doing. I asked one of my publishers – can we put my old books on sale and her advice was – you can’t replace good writing with gimmicks. Sales don’t necessarily mean “selling”. Hmmm…  Okay. I understand. So what do we do?

So we try and we fail. This business is obviously changing again and as a reader I’m growing sick to death of Big Brother. We won’t talk about being a writer. I remember the days of book signings and New York Times reviews etc and the glory of being a published author. Those days not only changed with the loss of brick and mortar stores but also because of the evolution of the e-book. That’s both good and bad in my opinion. The bad? Publishers and writers sprung up over night and as with anything many of both should be shelved FOREVER. But…it did allow a voice and that’s fabulous. And you know what? The business on this end will start shaking itself out. In a year or two the truly solid publishers and writers will remain and there’s always room for new folks. That’s America and capitalism and the joy of trying to achieve.

What many of you readers don’t know is that writers made very little. Between the 40% scraped off by the resellers to the cost for covers and ISBN numbers to what the publisher’s get – the author gets about 23% tops. So do the math if you’re selling a book for $3.99 and selling 25 copies is considered doing pretty well. I know some authors who sell 5 and others sell hundreds. There’s no real rhyme or reason we can all see. Sometimes it’s about the covers or the blurbs, sometimes it’s about reputation of the writer – you find what works for you period. And then know you’re going to have to change it as the market changes. That’s the way of the business.

So… the argument from writers that really did surprise me is the one that hey – Pal Pal has the right to do this because they’re a business. Hmm… True and we have a right to ask for more and better and certainly business decisions that are based in something astute. There’s a very underlying reason Pal Pal has done this and the rumor mills abound – but they’re rumor mills. So the bottom line here? We as people supporting each other (or you should for God’s sake) then we have to stand behind what we believe in. And again – to each their own. There are still a few smart people left around and alternatives are going to be created. What happened with Enslaved pissed me off and it will continue to do so and it pissed me off even more than writers decided that it probably wasn’t worthy of being on the romance shelves at least. That being said — bad behavior growing in leaps and bounds within the industry isn’t going to stop my voice but the concept might alter how I personally handle it.

As a reader I think you need to remember our business is tough – many others are as well and I’m not suggesting anybody’s life is a gravy train but as everyone of us change and grow, give your favorite writer a bit of leeway. They’re going to over promote and switch up their style and probably put out a not so great book once in awhile. It’s all in an effort to figure out what the hell they’re doing right. And it’s sad to say – not sure anyone knows just yet.

For all you writers that haven’t had this happen yet, my entire point was simply this could be merely a start of a slippery path. We all need to be mindful of what’s going on. I don’t like censorship of any kind just like I don’t like prejudice of any kind including homophobia and we’ve had a hell of a lot of that lately. Answer me this question. Do you? Hmmm… Food for thought.

Later…

DH