September 17, 2014

PROMO: Hero Face-off

Who Does It Betters? First Kisses…

I love werewolves and I love fated mates—part of it is the undeniable chemistry between two people. But it’s more than good sex and insta-lust. Two people are starting to get to know each other and beginning their journey to happily-ever-after. One of the important first steps is the first kiss…and a kiss can tell you so many things.  In fact, I love those moments when the hero and heroine almost-but-don’t-quite kiss.

What do you think? Which Breaux brother do you think does the first “almost” kiss better?

In TEMPTED BY THE PACK, Lark is running a cut-flower farm when Rafer drops by…for flowers.
“Wolves go out huntin’ during the blue moon.” Rafer watched Lark intently, his face turned towards hers.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with me.” She wondered if he could smell the lie. His big body didn’t move.
“If you say so, chère.” He reached down beside her, picking up the paper cone of flowers. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Consider them a gift.” She licked dry lips, unsure of what to do next. Of how to handle this inexplicable, intense attraction to a stranger. He was so alive and certain. So completely out of her league.
“That’s real nice of you.” He moved swiftly, leaning into her before she could so much as blink. His heavy weight pinned her against the table as his hand came up and cupped the side of her jaw. “May I?”
God. She’d let him do anything he wanted.
“May you what?”
“Touch you,” he said hoarsely.
He didn’t kiss her, not quite. His face pressed against the skin of her throat, her head falling back in a strangely vulnerable gesture. He inhaled roughly, his breath a hot brand on her ear, his mouth moving over her jaw to the corner of her mouth. To her eternal embarrassment, she moaned. She wanted more. More Rafer, more touches.
He stepped away, the flowers cradled gently in one massive arm.
“Tomorrow night, you stay home, stay inside your nannan’s place. You’ll be fine. Or…” his voice dropped lower, a heated drawl, “…you come on out and see us. But we’ll be hunting.”
He turned and headed down her dock, back out into the bayou, but he’d be back. She knew it.

Mary Jane fishes for oysters in the Louisiana bayou—but catches more than she bargained for in PLEASURED BY THE PACK when she agrees to hire Dre and Landry Breaux. When she slips away from the boat for a little privacy, Landry follows her…and kisses follow Landry.

The sweet, hot scent of feminine cream called Landry. His dick shot to attention, his balls full and aching. He knew that scent, knew that woman. Mary Jane needed. And he wanted to be the one to give her what she yearned for. Another night, he’d have gone back for Dre. Would have shared this moment with his brother. Tonight, however, he was almost out of time, and he couldn’t resist the sexy siren call of Mary Jane.
He slipped silently out of a centuries-old stand of cypress trees and found himself in front of an equally old hunting cabin. The damned thing looked like it was one breeze away from falling down, the windows broken out and the front porch listing left. Christ. Mary Jane didn’t know the first thing about staying safe, and he wanted to paddle her ass, but then he inhaled, and her scent teased him until all he could think about was getting himself a taste of that sweetness.
She was all alone out here, and he was definitely the big, bad wolf come to eat her up.
Christ. He looked up desperately, but the damned moon was still playing coy, and there was no neon sign pointing the way to Mary Jane or back to the boat. He was on his own here, and he knew precisely what he wanted.
His honey smelled good. He barely bit back the rough growl that started from his throat. He wanted closer to her. His wolf wanted closer. So he crossed the space between them. She was so small, almost swallowed up by the sleeping bag spread out around her.
Eyes closed, she muttered something, shoving back the bag’s flap like her internal temp had kicked up a notch or ten, sweat beaded along her hairline. She hadn’t even undressed, was still wearing the white tank top and those itty-bitty denim shorts his eyes had been glued to all afternoon. Hell, she could have stripped down to a satin bra and panties, and he couldn’t have been more aroused. Her legs shifted restlessly, and his sensitive ears caught the whisper of skin rubbing against skin as her thighs closed. Parted.
Don’t do this. Don’t look.
Don’t touch.
His gaze went straight to her shorts. When she moved restlessly again, she gave him a full-on shot of her crotch. A wolf in the wild would have done so deliberately, teasing him with her heat and her need. Mary Jane’s restless gesture had the same effect on him now. Damned if he couldn’t see the darker shadow at the junction of her thigh and hip, where she was all soft and vulnerable. He wanted to put his tongue there and give her the smallest of kisses.

CLAIMED BY THE PACK has a feisty heroine who is plenty capable—and happy—of standing on her own two feet against any and all predators, vampires included. She doesn’t need a surly, grouchy werewolf in her life…does she?

“More,” she breathed and he laughed.
But he moved his hand away and disappointment lanced through her because the need was still building, damn him, but now her orgasm was farther away than ever. Maybe he didn’t like bossy women. Maybe he didn’t like her.
She was still figuring out her next step when he moved, dropping between her thighs, his shoulders pressing her wide. Oh. Yes. She barely stopped the word from coming out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“You sure you’re not a wolf?” he rumbled, resting his chin on her thigh. He pulled the cloth away and tossed it over his shoulder. She could only imagine his view, pink and wet. Spread wide open. Well, she refused to make excuses for her need. He’d started this. He could finish her.
“One hundred percent certain.” He had no idea what she really was.
He turned his face into her thigh, rubbing his cheek against the tender skin. Yeah. The bastard was marking her. She’d smell like him for days. Thank God her brothers were up in Baton Rouge because otherwise they’d be lining up to kill him.
“You should know somethin’.”
“Yes?” She gave him the word, fighting to keep still. He was killing her here.
“That too.” He flashed her a quick grin. “You oughta know when you let a wolf into your bed, boo, he’s goin’ to eat you up.”
“Open up.” His hands pushed on her thighs, cupping her ass to help her. Lifting her onto the shelf of his hands. He was going all the way, going down on her. Oh. God. She’d wanted his intimate kiss, but there was imagining and then there was doing. He licked her and she came apart.

These three stories are about a shifter wolf pack that lives deep in the Louisiana Bayou. The blue moon rises and it shows the shifters the trail to their destined mates. The Breaux brothers not only have to worry about finding their mates and keeping their humanity, they also have to worry about vampires trying to take out their packs.

Each story in this box set is a little different. They each feature one or more of the brothers and their mates. These books are different from other shifter books. The Breaux brothers seem to be more wolf than man. Each brother is dominant and gruff.

Each book was written well and the pacing was really good for novellas. The action and the mating start right from the beginning. There is no waiting for action or hot steamy scenes in this series!

About the Author

After ten years of graduate school and too many degrees, Anne Marsh escaped to become a technical writer. When not planted firmly in front of the laptop translating Engineer into English, Anne enjoys gardening, running (even if it’s just to the 7-11 for slurpees), and reading books curled up with her kids. The best part of writing romance, however, is finally being able to answer the question: “So… what do you do with a PhD in Slavic Languages and Literatures?” She lives in Northern California with her husband, two kids and four cats.

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