Archive for January, 2010

Lucy Monroe’s Moon Craving

Hi everyone.

Hope you all are in warm part of the country and not freeeeeezing your backside off like we are here in Cincy. To add a little heat to your Sunday here’s a look a Lucy Monroe’s new book coming out in Feb. Love the cover! What a story.

Moon Craving Feb 2010 – Berkley Sensation ISBN-13: 978-0425233047 Children of the Moon Book 2 If it were up to him, Talorc—laird of the Sinclair clan and leader of his werewolf pack— would never marry. But when the king orders that Talorc wed an Englishwoman, the lone wolf is shocked to find his mate in the strong-willed Abigail. And after an intensely climactic wedding night, the two fiercely independent souls sense an unbreakable bond… Deaf since childhood, Abigail hopes to keep her affliction from Talorc as long as possible. And for his part, he has no intention of telling her about being a werewolf. But when Abigail learns that the husband she’s begun to love has deceived her, it will take all of his warrior’s strength—and his wolf’s cunning—to win his wife back. And Talorc will have to face his biggest challenge yet: the vulnerability of a man in love…

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No Prince Charming…Now Available…

No Prince Charming

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Her Happy-Ever-After has been a long time coming…

Elle spent years trying to get over her so-called Prince Charming, and she’s finally getting the hang of it. A Grimm—a guardian angel with unique gifts—she spends her nights trolling for demons and kicking ass, and lately, her days have been spent with her on-and-off-again lover, Ren, a fellow Grimm. But fate has other plans in store for Elle, plans that include Michael, the prince from her youth who broke her heart.

“What do you choose…live for her? Or would you rather die?” That was the choice Michael was given all those years ago. Although he knew she’d never forgive him, when Michael was given the chance to become a Grimm, he took it. Still, he isn’t so sure Elle needs him in her life. With a lover at her side and a mission before her, Elle looks like she’s doing just fine without him.

But the not-so-charming prince isn’t going to back off that easily…not if there’s a chance she might need him again. He’d do anything to save her. Kill for her, live for her, die for her…

Product Warnings

This dark, twisted version of Cinderella involves demons, deceit, desire, and debauchery between a princess and two sexy guardian angels, both determined to win the fair Cinderella.

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Michael had been born a prince, the youngest son to the King of Geran, a small kingdom tucked between France and Italy.

Geran no longer existed, but Michael had not forgotten the lessons of his youth. He’d been born a prince, and he’d had all the arrogance one would expect.

In all his years there had only been one woman who could ever make him feel like a foolish young boy. All he’d ever wanted to do was please her, love her, protect her.

He had failed.

She was the only woman he’d ever met who could render him utterly silent. The only woman who made him want to forget duty, honor, pride.

The only woman who could push him so far past jealousy, well into murderous rage. He was there now, there, and fighting not to let it show as she stroked a hand down her companion’s arm.

There was an intimacy between them, one that couldn’t be mistaken.

The nights they’d been here, he’d watched them. Now, with her standing so close, and that bastard watching him with an insolent, arrogant smile, the rage inside him bubbled and burned, threatening to tear free.

But the rage wasn’t the worst.

The worst was the pain.

Seeing her with another man, it hurt in ways Michael couldn’t even begin to describe.

Elle turned to face him and for the first time, he got a good look at her clothes. A real good look. The air froze inside his chest. Need burned through him. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have swallowed his tongue.

It was a cool night, but he was sweating under the black silk shirt he wore. His palms itched…itched to reach out, cup her hips and draw her close. At the same time, he wanted to pick her up and haul her close, carry her away so nobody else could see her.

Where that bastard standing next to her couldn’t see her, couldn’t touch her, couldn’t kiss her.

She looked like a wet dream come to life.

Her shoulders and arms were bare, as were the mounds of her breasts. Red lace edged the top of the corset, drawing the eye to smooth white flesh. Her waist looked impossibly narrow and her hips flared out, round and perfect. She had a woman’s curves and she’d cradle his body to perfection.

He knew that from experience.

Of course, those experiences were several centuries old. But some things a man never forgot. Some memories never fade.

Like those breasts. Those hips. Those long, leather-encased legs. The silken blonde hair that tumbled down from a tight ponytail, and the big blue eyes that had once looked at him as though he’d hung the moon. The way she’d teased him and made him laugh.

Another memory that didn’t fade? The memory of the pain in her eyes the day she realized who he was. Her stepsister’s fiancé.

Watching her walk away had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. To that point.

Since then, his life had been a study of hard lessons. Watching as another man touched this woman was just the latest lesson.

Living a long, empty life without her. Watching her turn away from him. Running after her only to find her too late. By the time he’d caught up with her she was forever out of his reach—unless he made a choice.

“The day will come when she will need you. The day will come when she will die without you. But it will not be easy. You will spend a great many years alone…you may die saving her and even if you don’t, she may never forgive you. What do you choose…live for her? Or would you rather die?”

That was the choice he’d been given all those years ago by a strange white-haired man who went by the name of Will.

How can she ever need me again? She is dead. I have failed her.”

“Things are rarely as they seem. The woman you love is not dead.”

Michael closed his eyes, banishing the memories. He couldn’t think of that now, not here. Couldn’t think of losing her, couldn’t think of the night he’d come face-to-face with Will. Couldn’t think about how he had plunged a knife into his own chest either. Through death’s door…and back again. That was how one became a Grimm, and if he wanted to be there for Elle he needed to die.

So he’d died. And Will had brought him back.

All in the hope that one day she would need him. Love him. Forgive him.

Forcing his eyes to open, he gazed at her lovely face. This woman did not need him. This woman did not love him. This woman would never forgive him.

If he had known then what he knew now, he wondered if he would’ve made that same choice.

Will had warned him—you will spend a great many years alone.

Yes. Will had warned him. A great many years. More than three hundred to be exact. He hadn’t expected to wait this long.

All these years, he had been waiting for a second chance. All these years, he had waited for her.

Waited—because he’d been told that she would need him. He’d held onto that, because he loved her, because he wanted to believe she would one day forgive him, one day love him again, one day need him.

And now, here she was…so lovely, so beautiful and strong. So out of reach.

He’d been a delusional fool.

She leaned against her lover and smiled at him. A golden brow arched and she said, “What’s the matter, prince? Cat got your tongue?”

He skimmed his gaze over her once more, wishing he could move in and touch. Wishing he could take and taste. Instead, he tucked his hands into his pockets and inclined his head. “Just trying to understand your choice of clothing.”

“Oh, well, now. I can help there.” Elle gave him a devilish smile and leaned in, her voice a low, silken purr. “It’s a sex club. I’m trying to blend.”

Michael didn’t think Elle could ever blend. No matter what she did.

She was close…so close. Closing his eyes, he took a slow, careful breath, flooding his senses with her scent, reveling in the warmth he felt radiating from her.

But then she pulled back. Gone. Her eyes stared at his and she had a blank, bored expression on her face. “So now that you know why I’m pretending to be S&M Barbie, why don’t you get out of here?”

“I can’t.” Inclining his head, he said, “I was sent here. Told to find you, help you.”

“Help me?” She shrugged. “Sorry, Michael, I’ve already got help.” She inclined her head towards her companion and asked, “Ren, have you met Michael?”

“No.” A cold smile curled Ren’s lips and he stroked his jaw. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Although I’ve heard of you. Quite a bit, actually. But, as you can see, help is already taken care of. Run along now…go crawl back under a rock or something.”

Michael bared his teeth in a grim smile. “I’ll go on along when I’m damn good and ready…what was the name again…Ren?”

The other man opened his mouth to respond and Michael looked away, dismissing him. “He sent me, Elle. You’re stuck with me.”

Elle’s lashes lowered, shielding her blue eyes from him.

But he didn’t need to see her eyes to feel her anger, feel her confusion.

She hid it behind a cool smile just a few seconds later. “I suspected as much. Damn, apparently I went and pissed somebody off but bad, if I got stuck with you.”

Michael managed to hide his wince, but just barely. “I’ll be sure to let him know you didn’t appreciate my presence.”

She didn’t need to ask which him he was talking about—it could only be Will. He was the only one who ever sent them anyway. All orders came through him. For the most part, those who served under Will’s lead didn’t have to follow orders—they knew their responsibilities and they did their jobs.

But every once in a while there came a special case.

Michael didn’t know what was special about this particular job, but if there was a chance in hell that Elle might actually need him, then he’d walk through fire to help her.

And if that meant he’d have to stand by at the side while another man pawed her, so fucking be it. He’d be insane when the job was done, but if she might need him, he didn’t give a damn.

If he was honest, he’d have to admit he’d walk through fire just to see her smile. Burns healed. Doing something that would actually put a real smile on her face? It would be worth a little pain.

He looked at her, itching to press his face against the warm mounds of her breasts. Itching to pull her close and feel her cuddle up against him and stroke his neck the way she used to do.

She was staring at him. Unable to stop himself, he lowered his gaze, rested it on her mouth. That pretty mouth, slicked with wine-red lipstick and curled in a sneer. He looked up and met her eyes.

“Let’s get this done,” she muttered.

Then she turned on her heel and stalked towards the club.

Michael fell in step next to her, ignoring the man on her other side and trying not to stare at her, trying not to growl as he noticed other men doing the same.

And if ya liked…here’s a link where you can buy this book.


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Okay, so I want to do something to help raise money for Haiti.

Here’s the thing… I try to do auctions thru ebay sometimes, but that’s not going to work this time… I’ve only got one ARC in the house and it’s already got an owner-just haven’t mailed it out.

ARCs are the best way to generate money on ebay and it will be months before I have another one.

So how about this instead…

  • I can dedicate a book to anybody I want.

And if you’ll help out Haiti, you can get a chance to have your name mentioned in the book’s dedication.


Like this…donate a minimum of $5 to your online disaster relief charity of choice. Please note, this is for disaster relief… while I love the polar bear, the polar bear isn’t affected by the crisis in Haiti. If you’re not sure where to start, you can check out the charities listed at Charity Navigator:

Helping the Victims of the Haiti Earthquake

I love Charity Navigator-I like seeing how much money is actually going to the programs and stuff-the site is awesome for that.

Go to my personal blog to find out more…

Shiloh Walker

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The Great Escape!

Peanut Butter and Sugar!

 Howdy Peeps! Today I want to talk about how you personally get through the crappy times. What do you do to escape for a bit when you feel like your head is ready to explode? What do you do to escape from some crappy thing going on in your life?

Maybe your daughter brought home the biggest looser east of the Mississippi? Or your mother-in-law is coming for a month visit. Or you got the boss from hell. Or you husband just ran off with the cupcake next door? Whatever it is, we’ve all been through the crappy times and need to get away and regroup so we can go on. I’m not taking about flying off to Vegas…though that would be great…but a little escape time to think about something else besides strangling your doctor, daughter, MIL, boss, husband and cupcake.

I sooooo wish I thought escaping was taking a good long run, working up a good sweat, going to the gym, doing yoga. But, alas, I resort to more basic things…like a jar of peanut butter, the sugar bowl, a big spoon, and reruns of the Gilmore Girls or Brothers and Sisters.

I park my fanny in front of the TV, crank up Stars Hollow or Padidina, spoon sugar into my pb jar and lose myself for an hour. And for me it works! A little R&R and I can face the world again…least try to. So, what do you do when you really need to get away from it all?

Hugs, Dianne



PS: Here is an excerpt from Hot and Irresistible to escape to Savanna and into Bebe and Donovan’s world of romance and mystery and a few ghosts.

“Don’t you dare go feeling sorry for me, Donovan McCabe, I sure as hell don’t need a pity party. And now you want to tell me what you’re here doing on my front stoop?”

Her gaze met his and she braced herself for the Oh, you poor thing look but instead Donovan bent his head and kissed her. She started to protest but her lips were busy and suddenly her tongue was too and then her arms got into the act and then her insides melted into goo. This was all wrong on every level except one…Donovan McCabe felt so darn good when she was feeling crappy as hell.

How many times had Dara struck and no one had been there? But here and now on this beautiful spring morning, there was Donovan McCabe and that he was a damn Yankee didn’t seem to matter all that much at the moment. She breathed, a sense of peace she’d never known before in her whole life filling her up like a glass long empty. She leaned into him and took one more kiss, just a little with a tiny nibble of his bottom lip to chase away the lingering chill of Dara, then Bebe stepped back. Every cell in her body…except the two rational cells still functioning in her brain… insisted she was the most stupid woman on planet earth for not staying locked in his arms.

“What was that all about?” The question was as much for her as him because she didn’t know what to think about the effect he had on her.

“You look like a woman who needed a hug and the kiss part just snuck in.” His voice was steady but there was unsure spark in his eyes that said he didn’t just go around kissing every woman who may have the need. But she didn’t need him to be nice and she wished like hell he hadn’t seen Dara. It was Bebe’s private life, the part she kept tucked away as best she could even from Brie, Prissy and Charlotte. A crappy childhood did not transfer into a crappy life. “Are you playing me, McCabe? Softening me up so I’ll help you nail Cleveland? Well, I won’t, he’s my friend and I can handle Dara.”

“How about I look the other way and you just shoot her.”

Bebe broke into a laugh and today she didn’t think she’d be laughing about anything. “I’ll lend you my gun,” he continued, looking perfectly serious. “Or at least blast the bitch verbally. I’ve seen you in action, you’re a hellcat when riled. Why not now?”

If he hadn’t offered his gun she would have told Donovan to butt out but he did offer and he’d kissed her when she needed it and she wasn’t in the habit of needing much.

A new meaning of good cop, bad cop. “It’s a conditioned response from when I was a kid. Dara’s favorite game was to threaten to leave me in the marsh if I didn’t do what she said. Scared the hell out of me and you never did say way you’re here.” Why the hell was she telling McCabe all this? Fallout from a dynamite kiss.

“When my mother tells me to stand up straight and get a haircut I still do it.” A gentle smile that comes from thinking of good stuff softened his face. “Except my mom’s nothing like yours, though I do remember threats of military school once or twice.” He leaned against the side of the apartment building looking as if the place belonged to him. He was that kind of guy, one who fit in anywhere, probably even military school. Bebe felt as if she fit in nowhere and she’d lived in Savannah all her life. He said, “I’m here because I didn’t want to air our problems in front of the whole station. We need to talk about how we’re going to handle Ray Cleveland.”

This was better. Arguing over work was a piece of cake, reminiscing about a screwed up childhood was a piece of shit. “I said I’m not helping you with Cleveland, McCabe and I haven’t changed my mind so there’s no need for kisses that curl my toes.” Well damn. She was on a roll till the toes part. When Donovan was around she had to learn to think before she opened her big mouth…which could lead to more kissing and then tongues. What in the almighty hell was she going to do with Donovan McCabe!

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