Hi All!  I’m over at the Darker Temptations blog today talking about meeting my new neighbor.  You know…the one on the side of our back yard where we still have the #$&*@# bathtub?  Well…it gets worse.  GO HERE TO READ.   🙂

Hi all!  On the last day of 2011, I thought I’d post the first excerpt of Hunted.  Here it is:

The warrior in Conn roared to life, overtaking any rational thought.  He shot his arm up to grab her wrist and force the blade from his throat.  “Let go of the knife, Moira.”  Soft skin covered toned muscle under his hand.  He could tighten his hold and make her drop the weapon, but that’s not how this was going down.

“No.”  She took advantage of his movement and dug her heel into his thigh, clapping his ear with her free hand.

Pain exploded in his skull.  His temper howled.  Clutching his fingers into her hair, he jerked her head back.  The white column of her throat stretched.  She yelped in protest.  He lowered his head, his fangs elongating completely.  His lips enclosed her skin.

He struck.

Her entire body went rigid.  The knife clattered to the floor. 

He drank.  Honey and spice exploded across his taste buds followed by a punch of raw power.  His mind swirled.  Arousal, lust, fire whipped through him until the need to get inside her pushed all other thoughts away.  Quick swipes of his tongue sealed the wound and then his mouth was on hers, delving deep. 

She moaned low in her throat, pulling him toward her.  He released her arm, encircling her waist and tugging her forward.  Better.  Now he wanted her naked.  Heat cascaded from the woman.  His tongue tangled with hers, the little whimpers gasping from her boiling his lust even higher.

The boom of a gun being fired jerked him away.  He jumped around, using his body as a shield.  Kell stood in the entryway, calmly placing a Beretta in his waist.  Plaster dropped from the ceiling marred by a large bullet hole. 

Conn snarled.

Kell held both hands out.  At six and a half feet with midnight dark eyes and hair, the witch took a placating stance that had to be unfamiliar.  He wiped plaster off his shoulder.  “I know it’s deadly to mess with a vamp and his mate, but we really have to go.” 

The whirr of a helicopter startled Conn.  He hadn’t heard it arrive.  Not good.  “Where?”

“We’ve been summoned by the Council,” Kell said.  “Now.”

Moira leapt off the counter to land next to Conn.  “We’re already late.”

He grabbed her arm.  “I’m going with you or you don’t go.”  He needed answers.  If the stubborn witches in the room wouldn’t provide them, he’d go to the top.

“While he can’t see the Council,” Kell dropped his gaze to his cousin, “we could use his help.  At least until Daire and Adam return.”

Conn stilled.  “Daire and Adam?”  Kell and his two brothers served as the chief enforcers for the Nine.  Something huge must be going down if they all had been summoned at once.  Suspicion tightened his shoulders.  “Why are you with Moira, Kell?”  Conn’s voice dropped to an octave that should’ve warned his friend.  He’d assumed Kell was with Moira to await him, performing his duty as liaison and enforcer.  Perhaps Kell provided protection for Moira.  If his mate needed protection, someone should’ve called him.

Kell cut his gaze to Moira.  “I believe that’s a conversation between you and the Seventh, Kayrs.”

“Don’t call me that.”  Moira stiffened.  “You’ve no right to be pissed, Kell.”

Kell stepped forward, his eyes blazing.  “No right to be pissed?  Are you kidding?”  He swept his hand toward Conn.  “There’s a good chance I’m going to end up in a fist fight with one of my best friends because you’ve refused to get your life in order.  And now it might be too late to fix our world.”

One step had Conn in front of Moira.  “Don’t yell at her.”  A brawl was guaranteed at this point.  Though the first punch came from the brat behind him.  Two fisted and right to his kidneys.

“That’s it.”  Conn swirled around and ducked, tossing his witch over his shoulder.  She bellowed in surprise.  He pivoted, heading for the exit.  “Since I’m under strict orders from my king not to piss off the council, we’ll go meet with them now.  You can explain what the hell’s going on during the flight.”  He strode through the door and into the sun, not caring whether or not Kell followed.  Moira struggled, smashing her hands into his back.  “Then, mate, we’re going home.” 

Rage burned in his gut.  Moira’s family had power and knew how to wield it.  The second he forced her from Ireland, they’d declare war.

So be it.

My husband is an interesting guy.  An architect by day, a daredevil by weekend, he gives me a lot to write about.  Even though he’s a six foot five stubborn Italian, he has an artsy side that intrigues me.  Usually.

Well, we have a big shop behind our house where he has his toys.  That’s cool.  And he somehow became inspired to kind of decorate around it with some pretty neat stuff he found.  So when the old gas pump showed up by the door, I thought, wow, that’s cool.  Then when the odd mining or cement testing or whatever the thing is showed up on the other side of the shop, I was pleased.

Then the signs showed up.  A wagon wheel, a number 9 with really no significance.  Okay.  I can live with those.  Though, we do have new neighbors moving in on the other side of the shop and now I’m wondering what they think.  So far, they probably think we’re artsy.  That’s ok.

Then the big windmill thingy was placed between my rose bushes.  At this point, I’m starting to wonder.  Keep in mind that we live in a nice, normal neighborhood.  No junkyard dogs, no rotted out car parts lining the drive.  You know, nice.  All of a sudden, the sound of that song from Deliverance started going through my head.

Then this thing that looks like a massive temperature guage appears between my two favorite rosebushes.  I think this thing actually had something to do with measuring the temperature of concrete, but I sure wouldn’t bet my life on it.  I begin to get uneasy at this point.

Then…the bathtub appears.  Oh heck no.  (I try not to swear on my blog, but you can guess what I really said.  And for the record, it didn’t start with an ‘h.’)   Also, for those of you creative gardening types, I know there was a trend of putting flowers in a bathtub in your yard a few years back.  I am not a trendy gardening type.  I do not want a freakin bathtub in my yard by my roses.  I do not.

This is the year of the bathtub debate…and I will not lose.  That thing is leaving.   🙂