I’m really a spy! Okay, not really. Now anything I say will sound like a huge letdown. Damn. Hm, here goes nothing…
1) I started out as a professional horticulturist and landscape designer before pursuing my true love—writing.
2) My favorite animals of all time are…goats. Seriously, the amount of squeeing I do at the fair when I see them is quite embarrassing. For me and the goats.
3) I’m the clumsiest person you’ll ever meet. I almost drowned myself and the nice couple who tried to save me when I slipped on a rock while visiting the Baths in Virgin Gorda. Lesson learned: It’s wise to keep a 20 foot radius from me at all times.
4) I have an unholy obsession with reality television. Right now my faves are Master Chef and So You Think You Can Dance.
5) I’m addicted to Angry Birds. (Admitting it is the first step to recovery, right?)
Fun, sexy and quirky
Lynx shifter, Lilly Prescott, and alpha werewolf, Dante Morgan, have been sworn enemies for most of their lives. Lilly has been relentless in her quest to acquire land from Dante that her grandfather lost in poker game years ago, and as a result, she and Dante have continually butted heads. When Dante’s father tries to force him into marrying and mating with the daughter of a rivaling pack—a shewolf that Dante despises—Dante sees only one out—convince Lilly to marry him in exchange for the land. It seems like a crazy idea that’s beneficial for the both of them…until their fake love affair begins to feel a little too real.
If you were a shifter, what animal would you shift into?
LOL. I’m pretty sure anyone who follows me on Twitter assumes I’d be a puffer fish. Only problem is I’m terrified of being under water. So I’d have to say I’d love to be able to shift into a hawk. The ability to fly would be awesome!
Oh, I’m a Dean girl all the way! He is such a cutie patootie, but it’s his sense of humor and loyalty to Sam that totally won me over.
That’s a tough question. I truly loved writing all of my characters. Max, the shark shifter, was a lot of fun to write. He’s just so different from anything else I had seen out there in paranormal land. My book boyfriend though is Sam, from Getting Familiar With Your Demon. He’s rude, surly, and about as anti-hero as you can get, but once he wormed his way into my heart, I knew I was hooked for life.
Absolutely. I put together a sound track for all of my books before I begin writing them. I’m working on a couple of projects simultaneously right now, so my playlists are all over the place. I’m pretty sure my IPod thinks I’m either extremely eclectic in my musical tastes, or suffering from multiple personality disorder.
Here’s just a sampling of a few on my playlist:
Don’t Gotta Work it Out~Fitz & the Tantrums
Lonely Boy~The Black Keys
Don’t Leave Me this Way~David Coverdale
Sexy Silk~Jessie J
I would Marry....Sam
I would have a hot night with...Sam and Logan (Hey, a girl can dream!)
I would have a summer fling with...Max (Maybe he’d cure me of my fear of deep water.)
My next release is Checking It Twice, the wickedly hot follow up to The Naughty List. That comes out on November 27. Right now I’m working on a brand spanking new contemporary erotic series that I’m hoping to launch next year, as well as the next in line for a couple of my paranormal series.
Poinsettia mimosas are one of my favorite holiday drinks, but they’re also fantastic year round. This recipe from Recipe.com is the best I’ve found for it.
3 or 4 tangerines Maraschino cherries
3 cups cranberry juice, chilled
¼ cup Triple Sec, orange liqueur, or orange juice
2 Tbs maraschino cherry juice or grenadine syrup
1 750-milliliter bottle champagne or sparkling apple juice or one 32-ounce bottle carbonated water or lemon-lime carbonated beverage, chilled
Directions: If you like, use a vegetable peeler or a thin sharp knife to thinly peel the tangerines into about 6-inch long spirals of peel. Place a tangerine spiral into each chilled champagne flute. If you like, add 1 or 2 maraschino cherries.
In a glass pitcher, combine chilled cranberry juice, Triple Sec, and maraschino cherry juice.
For each serving, half fill chilled champagne flute with cranberry juice mixture (about 2 ounces). Pour in the chilled champagne and fill almost to the top (about 2 ounces). Gently stir with an up-and-down motion (mixes the drink without destroying the carbonation of the champagne).
Excerpt from CAT SCRATCH FEVER:
What the hell am I doing? This whole plan is nuts. Lilly ran both hands down her face and smothered a groan. Dante chose that moment to walk back into the living room.
Awarding her a cautious glance, he plopped a plate loaded with a fresh bagel sandwich and chips on her lap. “Everything okay?”
She swallowed past the lump of worry lodged in her throat. “No one is going to buy this—you and I.”
“That’s why we have to make it convincing.”
“Trust me, I’m not that good of an actress.”
Dante rubbed his jaw. “Well, my old man already thinks we’ve got something going on.”
“Great. One down, a couple hundred more people to go. And that’s just counting your relatives.” She snatched a chip and nibbled its crinkled edge listlessly. The healthy appetite she’d possessed minutes ago seemed to have disintegrated. She dropped the half-eaten chip back onto the plate and exhaled heavily. “Speaking of relatives…I know my sister will never believe we’ve suddenly fallen madly in love. Crap, just yesterday I told her you were a perverted peeping Tom.”
A grunt issued from Dante, and she shrugged. “Hey, I was mad.”
He stroked his goatee. “Actually, that might work in our favor. I’m assuming you told her about what happened on the road?”
“So tell her I made you dinner as an apology, and one thing led to another.” His mouth tipped into another of those panty-wetting grins. “After one incredible night in the sack together, you knew you could never live without me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. No one’s going to believe that.”
His palm curved over her knee. “I bet I can make you believe it.”
She tried not to focus on the distracting way his fingers brushed along the inner seam of her pants. “Don’t count on it.”
“Should I take that as a challenge?” His gaze still locked with hers, he took her plate and set it next to her coat.
Planting his hands on the chair’s upholstered arms, he boxed her in and leaned so close, she easily made out the flecks of gold in his irises. Compelling as his gaze was, her attention couldn’t help straying to his mouth. Her nipples tightened as she imagined those sexy, masculine lips traveling in a slow glide across her breasts and belly. What would his goatee feel like against her skin? Would it be scratchy and irritating, or soft and ticklish?
Unconscious of her actions, she reached up and traced her fingertips over his jaw. “Hmm, definitely soft and ticklish.”
A wicked sparkle danced in Dante’s eyes. “Were you having dirty thoughts about my beard?”
“Tell me what you were thinking.”
The husky persuasion in his voice proved to be her ultimate downfall. “I was wondering what it’d feel like on certain parts of my body.”
Dante licked his lips in a way that was incredibly…wolfish. “I can show you firsthand.” The heat simmering inside her kicked into full boil. Dante’s nostrils flared, and the intensity in his eyes sharpened. “Christ. I smell how fucking turned on you are.”
“I can’t help it.” She swallowed hard and squirmed against the cushion. “It’s the hormones.”
“No, it’s more than that. And you know it.” His face inched closer until his breath mingled with hers. “You want me, Lilly. Admit it.”
“I don’t know what’s bigger—your ego, or your self-delusions.”
He gave her a predatory grin that prompted flutters in her stomach. “Neither is any match for the size of my cock. But then you already know that.”
He would have to bring up his impressive package at a time like this. Now she couldn’t get the damn thing out of her mind. Which wasn’t helping her present condition at all. “Another check mark for your massive eg—” The remainder of her comeback fell victim to the firm, sinful pressure of his mouth on hers. A shaky whimper escaped her. Dante took that as a convenient invitation to thrust his tongue past her lips.
She’d experienced plenty of kisses in her life. Not one of them came close to competing with the consuming hunger inherent in Dante’s. She could taste his desire. Feel his single-minded focus on her. It swept her up and left her breathless. His fingers tunneled insistently in her hair, angling her head back for a deeper exploration of her mouth. His tongue coaxed hers into play, and she eagerly obliged. God, she wanted to eat him up with a spoon. And that made absolutely no sense, considering how arrogant, obnoxious…chauvinistic…and…and…
She lost her train of thought as his roving hands massaged her breasts through her top. Inspired to do her own exploring, she smoothed her palms over Dante’s broad shoulders, trying to drag him closer and tug his flannel shirt off at the same time.
He pulled back, revealing an expression dark with passion. “There’s not enough room on this chair for us both. How about if we continue this on the couch?”
“My bed is bigger.” The suggestion popped free before she could halt it. Grinding her teeth at her loud-mouthed inner slut, she waited for Dante to smirk and lob an appropriately lewd crack at her. Instead, he scooped her into his arms, knocking the bag of Brussels sprouts onto the ground. He was careful with her ankle, something she appreciated—though honestly, she didn’t even register any discomfort anymore. Likely the improvised icepack had done the trick. That, or lust had blindsided her to the point all other sensations had skulked into the farthest recesses of her consciousness.
He walked down the short hallway and paused between the two open bedroom doors. “Which one?”
She pointed to the doorway to the left of them, and he strode inside the small room. He carefully arranged her on top of the patchwork quilt before stretching out beside her. His mouth found the tender spot beneath her ear and quickly discovered how easy it was to reduce her into a quivery, gasping wreck. She tore at his shirt again, desperate to touch warm flesh rather than flannel. This time he obeyed her wishes and released the top few buttons before growing impatient and yanking the garment over his head and tossing it aside. She snuggled against him, a happy purr leaking free.
He groaned and coasted his fingers along the curve of her spine. “Fuck, that’s sexy. Do you always purr like that?”
“Usually only when I’m in the middle of a heat cycle.” His hand slid beneath her top and cupped her breast through the thin mesh of her bra. He rubbed her nipple with his thumb, and she arched into him. A feral growl rumbled from deep in his chest. “I wanna get you nekkid.”
“Oh God, yes.” So much for keeping her inner slut out of this.
Thankfully he required no further prompting and made short work divesting her of her top and bra. The rapt way he stared at her breasts brought a fresh surge of moisture between her legs. She whimpered as his hand splayed over her mound.
“I don’t even need to touch you to know how fucking wet you are.”
She didn’t doubt it. The clear evidence of her arousal scenting the air made it pretty damn impossible to miss. With Dante’s supersensitive nose, it was probably a thousand times more noticeable. She got her verification when he buried his face in the valley of her cleavage and inhaled with a lusty moan. His pupils dilated, making his eyes look exceptionally dark and predatory.
Witnessing the raw, animalistic hunger riding his features speared a sharp spike of excitement through her, leaving her dizzy and lightheaded. Plumping her breasts with his hands, he sucked her nipple between his teeth and laved it into a stiff, turgid peak with his tongue. Gasping, she wiggled on the mattress, shamelessly undulating against the hand he’d kept wedged between her legs. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as the consuming need inside her became an agonizing torment. She tugged at his hair, panting, and he finally lifted his gaze to hers.
He must have read the desperation in her eyes because he reached for her zipper and worked it down. Repositioning himself, he gently eased her pants and bikini down her legs before spreading her thighs enough to make room for his wide shoulders. His thumbs slid through the wetness coating her labia and held her open to his hot, devouring gaze. A millisecond later, his tongue swirled over her clit. She jolted at the intense sensation, her limbs trembling, but Dante’s big hands kept her hips pinned to the mattress and her pussy available for his feasting. And oh God, that was exactly what she felt like—the main entree in a luscious, decadent werewolf Happy Meal.