2008 EPPIE Finalist -
Romance
Fantasy/Paranormal
Spring 2007 NOR- Best Shape-shifter
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Love Me Wild
Ellora's Cave
Genre: Shape-shifter
ISBN:
9781419910104
Format: e-Book
When a woman becomes fertile, the ache
for sexual fulfillment is overwhelming. Rowena, a Maida
scientist, must learn to spread her legs with as much relish as
she has for scientific discoveries. Can she give her body and
heart to a man who is more myth than her rational mind can
comprehend?
Tulon, a Centaur, exiled from his clan because he's different,
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has been in human form for two years
after Maida warriors captured him. He can't find one redeeming
quality in the Maida until he catches the scent of Rowena — a
woman in heat. Chosen to appease her lust, he claims every inch
of her silky skin, which releases his magic.
Can two beings with different beliefs embrace the fact that
myths can become real when sizzling magic, searing heat and
passion engulf them? Or will a challenge by Tulon's nemesis
break the fragile trust, forcing Rowena to flee for her sanity?
Love Me Wild has mythological creatures,
enemy conflict, and basic survival of the fittest confrontation.
I vote for a centaur market on every corner, not a Sentry
Market. It sounds like so much more fun.
~ Night Owl Romance, Rating 5
The woman took a step towards him. Her
sweet musky, womanly cream assaulted his senses and he was
powerless to stop his nostrils from flaring, trying to suck as
much of her scent as possible into his body. He wanted to eat
her alive!
Instead he clenched his fists that were held ram-rod straight at
his side. What was he doing here? What was this place? And more
importantly who was this petite woman who was doing her best to
intimidate him, not that it was succeeding. He almost laughed at
her antics.
Hands on her hips, she tilted her head up at him and asked him
the most benign question. He frowned. Is this part of some weird
game?
“What matters to you most?” she asked.
Stupid woman. What matters to all of his kind—freedom.
His eyes narrowed in disgust. When he didn’t immediately answer,
she had the audacity to quirk her neat little eyebrows at him,
as if he were brain-dead.
“What matters to you most, 7653?” she repeated, her voice
brushing like a warm summer’s breeze deep into the recesses of
his mind.
The use of that number as if it were a name made him want to
snort in frustration. “Freedom,” he snapped, looking her
straight in the eye, willing her to understand.
A smile lit up his face when she retreated back a step. His
senses also told him her heart had accelerated. She too isn’t
immune to my voice. For once that gave him a smug sense of male
satisfaction.
“Him,” she said, turning her face to a woman standing at her
side.
Tulon knew she had to be of importance. She looked regal.
“Choose another,” the woman replied, trying to usher the fourth
male forward.
He fought the urge to glare at her. He was chosen and while he
wasn’t sure for what, he didn’t like that she thought him
beneath her. Contempt and disdain had filled her voice.
“I will not, mother. I choose him,” said the spitfire with grim
determination as her eyes turned to challenge her mother.
Mother! That was her mother who stood next to her dressed like a
matriarch. That would make the spitfire a what? A princess…high
priestess…whatever. Tulon knew the game he had been forced to
play just had its stakes raised.
What he had been chosen for had to be pretty special. He almost
smiled as the mother of the spitfire nodded her acquiescence to
her daughter.
When the petite woman kneeled in front of him, he fought the
urge to lean down and pick her up.
Realizing this must be part of their barbaric ceremony, he stood
straighter.
“I take the 7653 to be my mate…your seed to my seed…let life
quicken within me.”
The words were barely audible as she mumbled them. An electric
shock rippled through his body when she lightly kissed each of
his toes. He could have stumbled back from that intimacy but he
forced the creature he was to endure. Sadly, he liked it too
much.
That’s it! He was then hauled away. No questions asked. No
answers. Once in the hall the fair-haired one who had stood next
to him sneered at him.
“Lucky bastard. Enjoy the rut of your life,” he said, as he was
whisked away.
When the other two fair-haired men were taken to a different
hall and he was left alone with only one female guard watching
him, he thought about running.
But to where? He had no idea where he was. He had been
blindfolded for the entire journey to this place. Once here he
had been bathed, his body hennaed and then ushered into the
line-up.
Breaking his code of silence, he asked the guard, “What was all
that about?”
It took her a moment to realize he was asking something of
importance. He noticed her pupils dilate in sexual awareness. He
mentally cursed at himself. How I hate what my voice does to the
women of this place. He wanted to shake sense into her. For once
in his life he wanted a straight answer.
He turned, as a voice behind him spoke, fully aware of who stood
there—the mother.
“Pleasure my daughter well. Do your job. Nothing more. Do you
hear me?” she stated, not expecting him to answer as she strode
past him.
Pleasure her daughter well. It took a moment for that notion to
be fully digested by him.
So that’s what I was chosen for. Bed sport! His nostrils flared
at the insult even as his body hummed its own eager answer.
Blast his tarse, which now stood at attention, lusting at the
vision of ramming the petite woman into submission.
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