June 1st officially kicked off the Sizzling Summer Reads Party, hosted by the good folks at theromancereviews.com. I’m very new to the blog thing, so I was eager to sign up, thinking I would be able to promote my books in a painless manner, and entirely unaware that my life as I knew it was about to come to a smashing halt while summer sizzled. See, there are hundreds of authors participating in Sizzling Summer and they are fabulous. Go to their site right now. Just click on the handy link to the right of these words and I dare you not to lose a few hours blog hopping. Every day, a handful of books will be spotlighted with a quick quiz. You can find the answers by clicking on the helpful hint links, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll forget the question once you start exploring those sites. There’s fun and prizes and cake and lots of authors you can’t wait to read yet. (The cake is a lie.) So tell your friends and be sure to check back with them every day to explore some fresh sizzle and share your favorites!
In the meantime, every Monday and Thursday in June, I will celebrate the summer of sizzle with some sizzling samples from each of my books. I warn you right now: Some of them are weirder than others. And to further celebrate Sizzling Summer, from now until June 30th, everyone who comments on a post tagged Sizzling Summer Reads will be entered in a drawing to win one of my books (ebook format only) of the title of your choice, including the upcoming The Last Hour of Gann, available at the end of the summer! Only one comment per person per individual post will be counted, but commenting on multiple posts that carry the Sizzling Summer Reads tag will increase your chances of winning! Please be aware that all my books contain a certain element of sci-fi, fantasy or horror violence as well as strong sexual content! If you would like to comment but do not wish to enter the giveaway, simply omit your contact information from your comment. On July 1st, I will announce the lucky winner!
Today’s sizzle carries over a bit from last weekend’s Sneak Peek and WeWriWa with an excerpt from The Scholomance.
The open hive of that central cavern was just as empty and still as the ephebeum below her. Mara climbed the winding path past passageways filled with silent theaters, thinking, ‘Not Kazuul. Anyone but him,’ right up until the very top, and even into the ornate corridor that led to no one else but him. She told herself it wasn’t surrender as she walked past orgiastic carvings all the way to the last twinned pillars where his smiling/sneering face met her over his closed doors. ‘Not Kazuul,’ she thought, and opened them. ‘Or at least, not for Kazuul. It could even be a kind of torture for him, if I want it to be.’
And it was torture, every step. She climbed down the dusty risers and down the drafty stairs in distant agony, tugging at the neck and sleeves of her robe several times as she went, finally pulling the whole heavy thing off just as she came through the hanging curtains of his doorway. The sun was out—high noon, even earlier than she’d thought—and he was on his aerie, comfortably hunkered with half a loaf of dark bread in one hand, smeared with either blood or jam. He ate at leisure, watching the clouds pass over the lake below him, impervious to the bitter cold and howling wind, impervious to everything. She was halfway to him before he knew she was there, and he swung fast, surprise becoming anger becoming even greater surprise.
“Disrobe,” she said impatiently, walking even faster now that her goal was in sight.
He straightened at once, flinging his breakfast without looking at it out into the world, and battled his plated belt open.
“Disrobe,” she said again, angrily, grabbing at the complicated layers of leather and silk and chain, and yanking them away in a single piece as soon as he’d worked out the buckle. She threw it behind her, not caring where it landed or what it broke when it did. She reached up and snatched at the golden clasp that kept his hair back and pulled that away, too. His hair was too fine to catch in it, no matter how rough she was; it fanned out eagerly in the breeze, lapping at her wrist, swallowing her fingers. “Disrobe,” she whispered. He had nothing else to wear.
He bent. She turned her face away. He hesitated, then bit at the side of her throat, two short nips and then a long bite, his breath scorching her skin. She could feel in exquisite clarity the racing of her pulse as his sharp teeth pressed down, as she could feel his hidden thoughts churning behind his defenses.
He lifted his mouth, growled softly, then went to one knee. He bit at her belly, very gently, his teeth scraping at the jumping muscles just below her navel. His hands brushed over her thighs, gently opening her to him. He bit right at the crown of her cleft, his tongue snaking in to rub back and forth across her clit. He growled again. It wasn’t a sound of desire, not before and not now.
Mara fumbled behind her for the wall and found it just at the edge of her reach. Bracing herself awkwardly on one arm, she groped for a horn or a spike or something with the other, anchoring himself to him. She lifted one leg, let him help her find a way to bring it across his spiked shoulder, and rolled her hips forward against his mouth. He growled a third time; his back was tense under her bare foot, as hard as stone.
His tongue knew where to go, what to do. His claws dug at her buttocks now and then, flexing as with impatience or anger, as he pressed himself deeper. He explored all, returning again and again to the chapel of her clitoris to tease it from its silken sheath before plunging deep inside her to drink. He bit six times at her thighs, twice drawing blood, which he licked away. Mara didn’t mind. She came for him like the false tide that lapped at the lake’s shore, rolling in and out by her own will and not by any moon’s direction.