Sold One Wild Night – Steel City Vampires!

10 08 2008

Well, Pagan will get his day in the sun…which is good since in his story he’s stuck in a rainstorm. But I digress. Cobblestone Press has acquired One Wild Night for publication, and I’ve sent back all the paperwork. Editing comes next…I’ll keep you posted on a release date. My suspicion is October for one of the Wicked books coming out for Halloween since the story is set at Halloween. The story is very short, hot with a surprising ending…

Unedited excerpt:

            He killed the motorcycle’s roaring engine and nodded slowly, her headlights glimmering off his helmet. Unsnapping the strap at the corner, he lifted off the black globe of plastic and rested it on his lap.


She blinked and hoped she hadn’t said the word out loud.

“Hi there.”

His voice was liquid silver steel. Oh, man, she would have to look like death on Halloween in front of the king of Cimmerian darkness.


“I’m Pagan.”

“Uh huh.”

He stared at her, his eyebrows coming together as he smiled. The smile alone would have been enough to knock her over, let alone the thick thighs and broad shoulders. When he booted the kickstand and climbed off the bike, all six-feet of black leather pants and black leather jacket of him, she did consider sitting down.

A line from Blade flashed into her memory. Hang in there, kitten. I’ll get help.

His smile widened, and though she couldn’t see his teeth, she had a clear, wonderful image of them nibbling her neck. “What did you say, sweetheart?”

She blinked. What had she said? She had no earthly idea. What difference did it make when she couldn’t decide to run away from him–or to him?

Her heart beat in her throat, and her breathing grew shorter and more rapid. “Ava. My name is Ava.”

He nodded and held out one black-gloved hand. “Nice to meet you, Ava. Can I help you with that?”

“Help me with what?”

His smile widened even further. He put the gloved hand on her forehead and pushed back the soaked white sailor cap, stroking her forehead with his fingertips. “You didn’t hit your head when you popped the tire, did you?”

“The tire.” The word sounded like something she’d heard before, but almost like something foreign—like homme bel dans la veste en cuir noire, which she instantly translated in her mind. Handsome hunk of everlovin’ man in black kick-ass-and-take-names leather jacket.

Or something close to it anyway.

“Yes, your tire. It’s flat, darlin’.”

The tire. Yes, the tire was flat. Of course it was flat. She was standing out here in the pouring rain next to this gorgeous mountain of a man because she’d gotten a flat. Saying the word “flat” over and over in her mind helped bring her out of the semi-comatose state and allowed her vocal cords to function.

“I’ve never changed a flat before.” Never wore leather. Never rode a motorcycle. Never imagined a man this sexy.

Maybe she should tell him that, too. Maybe not.

“Why don’t I take you to a hospital?”

“Hospital?” The word shook her out of the daze she’d fallen into in the cool downpour. “I don’t need a hospital.”

“Ah, you can make sense. Well, good.”

He took her hands into his and leaned close to her ear. “I was starting to think what a shame such a beautiful woman had serious-ass brain damage.”

“Pagan.” Good. She’d said his name, although the tremor in her voice wasn’t very seductive.

“Yes, Ava?”

“It was very nice of you to stop.” There. That sounded normal. Mostly.

“You were standing in the middle of the road.”

Oh yeah.

            She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and as the wind and rain blew over them both, the frigid elements failed to chill her. “Have you ever changed a flat before?”

            He pulled off his gloves and tucked them in the back pocket of the leather pants, his eyes watching hers. “There’s not much I haven’t done before.”




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