Samhain Publishing

A dynamic in vampire lore that interests me is the relationship between a vampire and his trusted servant. Depictions of Renfield range from bug-eating lunatic in Bram Stoker’s original Dracula novel to many other variations of a dedicated servant working on his master’s behalf.

Sometimes the vampire’s minion is presented as a sane agent who goes around during the daylight hours seeing to tasks his master can not. I thought it would be interesting to create a character who is bound to a vampire, devoted to him, but also chafing against the restraints.

In Vampires’ Consort, Jacob Baum owes a great debt to the vampire, Valarian Kaspan, who helped him extract vengeance on his family’s behalf. The servant and master have a relationship that transends time. They are linked inextricably in many ways, but for Jacob, Valarian is no longer enough. He longs for some elements of the normal human life he might have had.

Enter the third leg of this tripod, Akila Massri, a young woman destined for greatness whether she wants it or not. When the three of them combine, fireworks ensue and they hold the key to destroying a vampire who wants to rule the world.

Vampires’ Consort is now in print.

Readers often wonder how co-writing a book works. My co-author, Summer Devon and I were interviewed about our collaboration…

1. How did you start co-writing?

Summer: I’ve never met Bonnie. I read her story, Bone Deep, and loved it so much I wrote her a letter. We started emailing about writing. I offered to beta read one of her stories. I had a project I wanted to co-write with her and Marie Treanor. That didn’t work out, but the door to co-writing was open.

Bonnie: I used to write fan fiction. When I decided I was ready to tackle a full length novel, I didn’t have the confidence to plot it alone so I asked one of my fellow writers in the fandom to join me. We wrote Finding Home, a story about a street hustler and a journalist. My co-writer Lauren wasn’t interested in pursuing writing as a career, but I turned the full force of my attention to it. After realizing what a solitary, rather lonely occupation writing is, I wanted to play with a friend again. I’ve written with several authors, including Summer.

2. How do you handle your co-writing responsibilities, ie the mechanics?

Summer: I’m a little afraid to talk about it because it works so well, I don’t want it to fall apart. One of us has the start of the story in her head, the other reads what she’s written, marks changes in review mode and adds her part. It’s that simple. Once the basic idea is in place, I’d say plotting is about 50-50. Every now and then we vaguely plan the rest of what’s going to happen.

Bonnie: On Finding Home, Lauren and I each chose the relationships and scenes we were most interested in. It was a very patchwork way to work that required much editing later to bring it all together. With other writers, we’ve kept it linear, passing the story back and forth chapter by chapter, more or less, depending on whether that person is on a roll.

3. Is there something one of you does better (research, plot, character, revisions, promotions)?

Summer: I love the research. I’ll get lost in it. Almost none of that research will appear in the story we’re writing, but maybe some of it will guide the plot. Bonnie has the gift of a turn of phrase. I think we both love writing and learning about characters. That’s my favorite part of writing stories, actually.

Bonnie: I’ve had one co-writer who was more creative with sex scenes than I, another who was an exceptional plotter. Summer loves research and adds a lot of great period detail and clever wit to the dialogue. I think my strong suit is character development and setting a mood or scene. And I kind of thrive on revisions, diving in and cutting a manuscript to bits as needed.

4. How is your joint work different from your individual work (if applicable)?

Summer: It gets done faster. Problems that crop up are more fun to figure out. It’s all done by email or notes on the manuscript. Not only have I never met Bonnie, I’ve never talked to her by phone.

Bonnie: I suppose one voice throughout an entire novel probably sounds different than a mixed voice, but we’ve had editors say they aren’t sure who’s written what in our stories, so I guess we blend well.

5. What challenges do you face when co-writing?

Summer: So far we haven’t gotten into any big disputes. Occasionally one of us wants to change something the other doesn’t think needs changing. I think whoever feels most strongly about a section or character wins, and the other backs off.

Bonnie: One challenge is letting go of pre-conceived notions of how a story should go. If I have definite ideas about a project from start to finish, I’ll write it alone. But once you’re with a partner, you have to be ready to roll with it when the manuscript takes a different turn than what you expected.

6. What rewards?

Summer: It’s like my favorite game when I was a kid. Taking turns writing a story is more fun than a party.

Bonnie: The reward is having two brains working on one puzzle. When you reach the inevitable point where the plot sticks, someone will know how to write past it. Brainstorming together can be a joy. Things I never would’ve considered on my own come to light. It’s a fluid creative process.

7. Where do two writers need to line up when co-writing? Attitude? Work ethic? Likes/dislike? Voice? What can you get away with not having in common while still making it work?

Summer: Check your writerly ego at the door. You can’t be so in love with your own work that you refuse to allow changes.

Bonnie: It’s important to check out the other author’s work before you begin and make sure their voice is similar enough to yours. It’s also important to me that a co-writer is a pretty fast writer, because I like to shoot the manuscript back and forth in a timely manner.

8. What advice would you give to any authors thinking about co-writing (with a friend or with a relatively unknown partner, if the answers are different)?

Summer: I think it was a matter of luck that it’s worked out for us. We didn't set out rules or talk a lot before we started. That might not work for everyone.

Bonnie: I wouldn’t write with someone just because they’re a friend any more than I’d start up a business with one. You’d hate to wreck a friendship because of having a falling out. But if two people feel they’re in sync and can work though the times when they’re not, they should give it a go.

Summer and Bonnie’s new male/male historical, The Psychic and the Sleuth is available in just a few more days at Samhain. An investigator is set to expose a fraudulent psychic, but both get more than they bargained for when the psychic has a true experience and the pair must solve a murder before someone else is killed. Of course, hot sex and lovin’ also ensues.

Remember when we (or some of us anyway) were kids and there was nothing on TV all summer except reruns? You’d wait with growing impatience for September and the launch of a new viewing season with all your favorite characters—Starsky and Hutch, the Loveboat crew, the looney roomies from Three’s Company, the gang from MASH—and maybe some cool new  shows with new characters to get involved with.

There are a lot of things I love about living in current times, particularly technology. Computers, I-phones, I-pads, I-pods and e-reading devices all make our lives richer. But practically my favorite thing about these days is the staggered TV season which provides a wide variety of quality cable shows to keep me entertained all year long. Even summer TV viewing is no longer a wasteland.  So what am I watching this summer?

Leverage on TNT, Entourage and Weeds on Showtime, True Blood on HBO, and the final season of Rescue Me on FX (may it rest in peace because that show jumped the shark several seasons back and needs to be put to bed). In addition, due to the wonders of the internet, I’ve downloaded and been watching some shows that I missed back in the day.  I’ve spent the entire summer working my way through eight seasons of The Practice. I think I’m ready to hang my shingle as a lawyer now.

Does anyone else enjoy the slick capers and clever byplay of the group of thieves on Leverage? How about those horrible, self-involved boys on Entourage? Ditto self-involved Nancy Botwin on Weeds and annoying, navel-gazing Tommy Gavin on Rescue Me. Apparently, I love characters who are hatefully selfish yet totally compelling to watch.

And then there’s Tru Blood, which is a soapy extravaganza of sex, violence and paranormal shenanigans. It’s probably lowest onmy totem pole of shows to watch yet I still can’t seem to look away.

What about you? When you’ve had enough of sunshine and ninety degree temperatures and you draw back into your cave at night, what are your favorite shows to watch? While waiting for Dexter and Mad Men, Sons of Anarchy and The Good Wife, Justified and BoardwalkEmpire to return, what’s popping your cork this summer?

Remember the good old days when monsters were terrifying, ugly beasts and heroes were so virtuous you could see your face in their spit-shined boots? What happened to vampires and werewolves being evil villains? When did we all start falling in love with them? Oh right, Ann Rice and Laurel K. Hamilton had a little something to do with that.

What is the attraction to the dark side? I’d say two words hold the key: forbidden and primal. Lust is automatically aroused the moment someone slaps the “forbidden” sticker on something. Look at Romeo and Juliet. Tell the kids “no” and they must have. Put a potential lover beyond the pale and we yearn for him like the family dog craves the chocolate cake cooling on the counter.

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Erotic, adult fairytales are a hoot to write. Marie Treanor and Bonnie Dee have explored what happened with Cinderella's supposed happily ever after in Cinderella Unmasked. They imagined Princess Aurora awakened in modern times by a prince of Wall Street in Awakening Beauty.

Demon Lover tells a different version of the tale of Rumplestiltskin. Did you ever think the king who demands a girl spin straw into gold is a greedy bastard undeserving of her love? What if that old gnome, Rumpie, was actually a very hot king of the underworld who would help the miller's daughter with her project while slowly seducing her?

Demon Lover is now available in print. We hope you check it out and to whet your interest, here's a blurb and excerpt.
Rumplestiltskin is not his name and this hunk’s no gnarled old goblin.
In his quest to land her a rich husband, Gwyneth’s father has gone one step too far and bragged to the king’s steward. Now she faces an impossible task: spin a room full of straw into gold by morning, or their lives are forfeit. She despairs, until a black-garbed figure offers to solve her problem for a price. One kiss.

He returns the second night, and the third. With each sensual encounter, the stakes escalate along with her attraction to her mysterious visitor. Then he claims the ultimate price—her child—and she realizes too late she’s made a deal with the king of the Underworld.

From the moment he kisses her, Ragnorak knows Gwyneth’s child will be a worthy heir for his kingdom. But with each touch, he wants more. He wants her to be queen of his strangely beautiful world—and for her to want to stay. But that will mean giving her the ultimate weapon—the power of his name.

Gwyneth has only three chances to drive her demon lover over the edge of bliss. But when the stakes suddenly shift, it’s Ragnorak who stands to lose everything…

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Well, not really two. Vampires' Consort is about a vampire, his thrall and the woman who's entangled with them both. Continuing my Magical Menages series, which kicked off last year with Shifters' Captive, I decided to explore the dynamics of another three-way relationship.

Recent college graduate, Akila Massri is between jobs. Faced with student loans and rent she can scarcely pay, she's afraid she'll have to move back in with her parents when a stranger's proposition offers a possible solution. A handsome man named Jacob Baum approaches her in the supermarket and hands her an invitation from his employer, reclusive philanthropist, Valarian Kaspan. He will pay Akila to visit him at his island retreat, but is extremely vague about what he wants or how he's chosen her for this honor. Common sense tells her to blow off this outrageous porn flick scenario, but curiosity and an intangible sense of destiny propel her to the island.

On the flight from the mainland, Akila is accompanied by Jacob, a quiet, surprisingly reassuring presence. As she questions him about his boss, she gets a vibe that his feelings about him are conflicted. She's intrigued by the mysterious Jacob but completely blown away by Valarian's dynamic aura when she meets the powerful man. She's even more overwhelmed when he reveals what he is and what he wishes her to do.

Caught up in a swirling morass of sex and save-the-world stakes, Akila is in over her head and dog paddling to keep afloat.  Reality is skewed as she wraps her mind around the fact that vampires exist and her future may be foreordained. She learns things about her family history and a prophecy that taps her as a force to be reckoned with. And then there's her bone melting, undeniable attraction to the two very different men and the very big decision she has to make.

But lust and budding romance take a back seat when the baddies kidnap Akila for their own agenda and her heroes have to rescue her.

With plenty of angsty back story for the two heroes in addition to sizzling sex and explosive action, Vampires' Consort is a wild, fantasy romp that I hope readers will enjoy.

There’s something about fall that really takes me back to my childhood. What better way to enjoy the season than to sit in a raked up nest of leaves, crunch on an apple and read a good, old-fashioned fairytale book.
Or not so old-fashioned…

Marie Treanor and Bonnie Dee (that’s me) have been enjoying writing more adult versions of common fairytales. CINDERELLA UNMASKED tells about what happens when Happily Ever After doesn’t turn out so great. Cinderella enjoys some erotic adventures at several masked balls before finding her real HEA.

DEMON LOVER is our take on Rumplestiltskin, only with a very HOT king of the underworld and a very clever miller’s daughter who takes him on—in more ways than one.

AWAKENING BEAUTY, our latest collaboration, tells the tale of Aurora awakened in modern times by a prince of industry, a workaholic named Joel Thorne. He doesn’t believe in fairytales and is kind of iffy on the topic of love—until he’s completely smitten by Aurora’s wide-eyed innocence. She is a young woman who’s been stripped of everything and everyone she knew and loved, but she’s also on the cusp of self discovery. Having been smotheringly sheltered, she’s ready to experience life at long last.

Of course there’s an evil force to overcome before the couple can have their HEA and a lot of lovemaking because this is an adult fairytale. Hope you enjoy our version of Sleeping Beauty.

Excerpt:
She stared in front of her, picked up the water bottle as if it held the secret of this mess. “I wanted to go to the south tower. I don’t know why. My parents had always forbidden it. But I’d snuck up there once before when I was a child, following one of the maids. It was full of sharp things, the things I was never allowed to go near—scissors and needles, pins, spinning wheels. So many that they positively glittered. That time the maid turned and saw me and quickly slammed and locked the door again.
“The night of the ball, I was drawn to return. I was nineteen and soon to be married. I didn’t want to be a child, so over-protected that I couldn’t even look at a pin! And so I went up there, even knowing the door would be locked. It always was.”
She looked at Joel, almost wondering at the effort of memory that seemed like yesterday and yet was hazy and confused. She couldn’t properly explain the compulsion that had drawn her to the tower. He gazed back steadily, waiting.
“It wasn’t. That’s the funny thing. The door wasn’t locked at all. When I pushed, it opened immediately and now all that was there was one solitary spinning wheel. It glittered too. In fact, it shone so brightly I just had to touch it, to find out what it felt like. So I walked over to it. Despite what my parents had always said ever since I could remember, I knew I was an adult now and nothing as trivial as a spinning wheel could possibly damage me. I reached out and touched the spindle.”
“Then what?” Joel prompted when she fell silent.
“I pricked my finger on it.” She lifted the finger, examining it. “Look.”
He leaned over, taking her hand, and gazed down at the healed scab on her right forefinger. He smiled and lifted the finger to his lips, kissing it lightly, briefly.
“You look, Aurora. That’s not a thousand-year-old scab. And I have to say, none of you looks a thousand years old. I think you fell up there and hurt your head. It’s quite a vivid story you’ve concocted for yourself, but with a doctor’s help, I’m sure your true memories will come back.”
Stricken, she stared at him. “But I want these ones. They’re all I have. Joel, I want my mother…”
Joel said something beneath his breath and put his arms around her, drawing her close into his arms. “We’ll find her,” he promised. “We’ll find everyone you’ve lost, everyone you need.”
Stunned by his familiarity, she held herself rigid, but then, suddenly terrified he would let her go, she relaxed into his solid comfort and let the tears come. Suddenly she didn’t care if he was a peasant or some strange lord from a future time that terrified her. She clutched his arms, his shoulders, as if they were her one salvation, buried her face in his chest and wept.
He held her in a big, rocking hug, stroking her hair until the storm had passed. Even then, when she slowly, shame-facedly, lifted her head, he didn’t let her go. His lips tugged upward and, in shy response, she let hers follow.
He bent his head and softly kissed her mouth.
At the first touch of his lips, something surged through her, vital and desperate. It was a brief kiss, less even than she had shared with Karl the night before the ball she’d never got to, and yet it changed everything. He drew back slightly, and she realized he meant it as no more than comfort. Comforting the child that she wasn’t. She needed… She didn’t know what she needed, except him.
So she reached up and fastened her mouth to his.

Stunned, Joel let the deranged girl’s sweet, clinging lips move over his. He should never have kissed her in the first place. She’d just looked so wounded and vulnerable—and yes, so damned beautiful—that it had seemed the right thing to do. It had been impulse, instinct, with the purest intentions, but even as he did it, part of him was aware that if she’d been male, old or unattractive, he was unlikely to have chosen that particular form of comfort.
He put his hand up to her face, meaning to disengage with gentleness, to explain how he couldn’t possibly take advantage of someone so emotionally upset right now, but as he moved his lips to speak, she took it as a sign of response and sank deeper with a sigh.
Joe’s body acted without permission and from the worst of intentions. Fire seemed to curl from her lips through his entire body. His cock, already perked by her beauty, rose up like a rampant beast in his pants. She was all softness and passion. Her breasts pressed into his chest. His hands itched to touch, to caress and tweak. With some superhuman effort, he prevailed, but he wouldn’t have been human at all if he’d been able to resist kissing her back.
Hell, it was only a kiss, and whatever the beast in his pants was demanding, he’d make damned sure it got to be no more than that. So he opened his mouth wider, taking hers with him and slid his tongue into her mouth.
She tasted of lemons and vanilla, at once sweet and tangy, and she smelled delicious too, some heady scent of roses and sunshine that made him long to bury himself inside her. Her tongue seemed shocked to encounter his, but after an instant, it slid along his, and let him suck hers into his own mouth.
She let out a little moan, twisting in his arms as if she needed to get closer. Her lips, her whole body seemed to burn up with a fever of passion, and everything in him leapt to meet it. His hand closed over the softness of her silk-covered breast at last, felt the nipple grow under his palm until he slid his hand downward and caressed it with his thumb. She moaned again, her breath hot and exciting in his mouth.
Hot. Fever. Illness. Confusion. For fuck’s sake, Thorne, what are you doing?
He slid his hand back to her waist, drew his mouth free with as much gentleness as he could muster.
“Aurora,” he said a little too harshly. “Slow down.”
Confusion clouded the warm passion in her eyes. Then hurt overlaid them both, and he groaned aloud.
“You don’t like me,” she whispered.
“God, it isn’t that…”
“It must be. You don’t fear my rank, if you even believe in it. I’m not usually so…immodest, but I’m not stupid. Just say I disgust you.”
“Disgust me? Aurora, this is how much you disgust me.” He seized her hand and carried it to the rigid hardness of his cock to make his point. Perhaps that wasn’t wise under the circumstances, but he didn’t think best in the grip of sexual frustration.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away in shock. Neither, fortunately, did she delve inside his pants. Her fingers moved uncertainly, feeling the outline of his shaft. He swallowed, maintaining his self-control with difficulty.
Her face burned. He lifted her hand off his cock and carried it to his lips for a quick kiss. “That’s how much I want you, so don’t tempt me anymore. When you’re better, and if you still want to come, I’d love to take you out to dinner.”
Even as he said the words, he laughed at himself. He sounded so pompous and grown up. Which was another matter. The girl was nineteen and clearly not as experienced as he’d expected. Yet another reason to back off.
And yet the sneaking thought entered his head that if Vee had ever felt half so good in his arms, he wouldn’t be this tormented over the decision he needed to make concerning their possible future together. She was not yet his fiancée, not really even his girlfriend, more of a business partner if anything. He owed Vee nothing, at least not in emotional terms, and yet even thinking of her now felt like treachery. Though whether to her or Aurora he wasn’t clear and didn’t want to be.
Aurora’s gaze fell. She shifted away from him, and perversely, he wanted her back in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just feel so…”
“Needy,” he said ruefully. “Me too, but with considerably less cause. Come on, eat up. It’ll make you feel better.”

After the ball is over… Did Cinderella really get her happily ever after? What did she know of the prince beyond a girlish crush? Cinderella Unmasked explores the further story of an adult Queen Ella and her erotic adventures.

Three balls. Three sexual adventures. One true love.

Queen Ella has long since put girlish notions of romantic love away. In the five years since her husband, King Charming left her to “find himself” on board a pirate ship, she’s been ruling the country alone. Her trusty Chief Steward, Sebastian has been her only confidant and best advisor.

Ella is ready to live again and to experience the sexual pleasures Charming had never been able to give her. She decides to hold a masquerade ball where she’ll indulge herself with a stranger. One ball turns into three with escalating levels of sexual exploits. But are these dalliances enough to satisfy her?

As Ella begins to notice odd similarities between the different masked men who make love to her, she can’t deny her growing emotions. She must learn to trust that not every man will abandon her as her father and husband have done. She must give herself over to the power of real love.

Will Ella’s indiscretions come back to harm her when her stepfamily makes a play for her throne? Will a figure from her past change her future? And just who is the masked man, or men, who’ve fulfilled her wildest sexual fantasies? Read on for an excerpt…

Excerpt:
he garden was as cool and quiet as heaven after the heat and noise of the ballroom, but it was hardly the private haven Ella had fantasized. There were many strolling, hand-holding and kissing couples along the winding paths. From behind bushes and thick tree trunks came sounds that suggested much more than kissing and fondling. The grunts and gasps that drifted through the night air made her nipples tighten and her breathing grow ragged.

From behind a high hedge a woman whined like a bitch in heat. Ella glanced at the handsome man walking beside her not even trying to take her hand. Would he do things to her to make her whimper like that? Would he drag her off the path and rip her bodice in his hurry to suckle her breasts? Would he bend her over the nearest stone bench and flip up her skirts to take her from behind? Or would he, like the man in her imagination, push her up against a tree trunk, tell her to wrap her arms around it, then fuck her hard and fast. Her body ached and itched all over just from imagining it and her pussy felt as slippery as warmed butter.

“So what is it that would please a dairymaid queen?” Joseph asked as they strolled along the walkway. The gravel crunched underfoot and the breeze lifted the curls around Ella’s face, cooling her heated cheeks.

“I’m ashamed to ask it, sir. You’ll think me forward and unseemly.” She adopted a false demure tone as she cast another sideways glance at the tall stranger. And then suddenly she wasn’t playing a role as she realized what kind of fire she was prepared to singe her fingers with. To take a strange man as a lover was one thing in a fantasy, quite another in reality. She might be a queen, but that didn’t mean she could do as she liked. On the contrary, her movements were far more scrutinized than a milkmaid’s might be.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what I’d like,” she admitted. “I thought I wanted to make love under the stars like a wild bohemian, but now that we’re out here I’ll confess I’m a little nervous.”

He looked at her and the whites of his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. His teeth did, too, as he spoke. “Perhaps you’d like someone to take control, rescue you from having to make yet another decision in a life that’s too full of decision-making.”

Ella smiled, her pulse leaping yet again at the suggestion. “Perhaps I would.”

He stopped walking then and turned to face her, taking her by the shoulders and looking down into her eyes. “Then that is what I’ll give you, Madam, a night free of choice. Your only responsibility will be to obey my commands. Does that sound possible to you?”

“It sounds absolutely refreshing,” she sighed.

****
“Do you trust me?”

The words hung heavily in the air between them. Perhaps it was the darkness of night that gave them a sinister quality. Ella glimpsed one of her bodyguards at a distance, trying unsuccessfully to blend into the shadows of a tree. Someone was only a cry away if the situation got out of hand. She looked into Joseph’s eyes, shadowed by the mask that surrounded them and nodded.

“Yes, I trust you.”

He glanced at the guard then back at her and smiled. “Maybe not completely, but that’s all right.”

For a moment they stayed locked together with his hands on her shoulders, their gazes meshed. He stared at her mouth, and Ella’s lips trembled with the need to be kissed. Slowly he inclined his head. She rose up on her toes and leaned into him. His warm breath touched her face. It smelled like mint and chocolate. Would his tongue taste the same?

His face filled her vision, and she closed her eyes as his mouth descended toward hers. Then he kissed her cheek, a light brush of his warm lips near the corner of her mouth before he pulled away.

Ella’s eyes flew open. She stared at him with her eyebrows raised.

“I won’t kiss your mouth, Marie. Kissing is for those in love. We’re only temporary lovers.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment was keen, but she’d agreed to play the game his way, to let him direct the course of their evening. She could hardly complain because he didn’t intend to kiss her.

Joseph let go of her shoulders and took her by the hand. “Come.”

Ella walked quickly to keep up with his longer strides. He led her from the gardens near the ballroom, away from the light spilling through the windows and the sweet sorrow of violin music that floated behind them.

“Where are we—”

“No questions,” he commanded. “Blind obedience tonight. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t enjoy.”

They’d crossed the lawn and were approaching the tall hedge of the walking maze, so Ella’s question about destination was answered. But what Joseph would do to her in the dark avenues and blind alleys of the labyrinth remained to be answered.

He stopped before the entrance of the maze and drew a handkerchief from his trouser pocket. He dangled it before her, and Ella understood he was about to blindfold her.

“You don’t know me, but this game won’t be enjoyable unless you trust me. So I ask again—do you trust me?”

He was right, she didn’t know him, and how foolish was she to trust a complete stranger with her body? And yet, despite the fact that his face, physique and voice were foreign to her, there was a quality of familiarity about Joseph. On some deeply elemental level she did trust him. Completely.

Ella took off her violet-colored mask, glad to feel her face uncovered for the first time all evening. She turned her back to him, indicating her readiness to be blindfolded.

A moment later, her eyes were enveloped in darkness as Joseph tied the handkerchief around them. He stood behind her, gripping her shoulders again, and spoke softly near her ear. “I want you to be aware of all your senses. Listen to the night sounds. Breathe in the scents all around you. Feel the air on your skin or the scratch of the hedge against your arm as you pass. I want you to experience everything more deeply than you ever have before, and when we reach the center of the maze…”

He stopped, and Ella held her breath, waiting for him to tell her what would happen there. Instead, his heavy hands left her shoulders as he stepped away from her. She was floating in darkness, alone, without an anchor.

What did he want her to do, fumble along blindly through the maze? Or was she supposed to wait for his direction? She held very still, listening for his breathing. She couldn’t hear it, but did hear the steady chirp of a cricket, the trill of a chorus of frogs and the soft soughing of the breeze through the dense branches of the hedge shrubbery.

But even though she couldn’t hear Joseph, she sensed him nearby and knew he was watching her. The knowledge was incredibly erotic. She wanted to be naked as he gazed on her—naked, blindfolded and vulnerable. Her nipples poked hard against the bodice of her blouse and her skin felt too sensitive against her clothing.

“Walk straight forward.” A low, commanding voice moved her feet. She took a few careful steps, testing the ground, feeling for something that might trip her.

“Take small steps, but take them with confidence,” he ordered.

Ella resisted the urge to put up her hands and feel for obstacles in front of her as she walked several paces forward. Even though her arms didn’t brush against it, she felt the hedge rise on either side of her as she entered the maze. She became aware of how much farther her body’s perceptions extended without sight to identify the world around her.

“Turn left.”

Walking blind, she turned sharply and continued forward again. She thought she was walking straight, but soon felt twigs and leaves scratching her left arm. Remembering that the maze was circular, she adjusted her course from a straight line to a slightly curved one.

The voice came from immediately behind her. “Good. Stop. Turn right then immediately left.”

She felt his warm presence heating her backside even though he didn’t touch her, and she obeyed his directions, moving farther into the maze. The narrow pathways were shadowed and mysterious during the day so it must be pitch black tonight even for Joseph, who was not wearing a blindfold. Yet he gave one command after the other as if he knew the maze intimately. She didn’t feel like they were becoming hopelessly lost.

Although it was a cool evening, in the shelter of the yew hedges Ella’s flesh began to heat from exertion and in anticipation of what would happen next. The sounds of their footsteps on the grass, the snap of an occasional twig, the distant, mournful hooting of an owl, were all magnified by the darkness. The pungent smell of the yews filled her nose, and her body felt more aware, more alive, than it had in a long time.

She continued to walk as Joseph directed her to. His tone wasn’t overbearing, but calmly assertive, and she found the deep rumble of his voice unbearably attractive.

“Stop!” he ordered at last.

Ella felt a wider space around her. She could no longer sense the shrub walls closing in, and to check she extended her arms, feeling for the thicket. Joseph’s footsteps approached. His hot body was right behind hers again. Her heart pounded and she swallowed past the dryness in her throat.

When his hand touched her head, she started, but relaxed as he stroked the length of her hair, which she’d left down and undressed for her role as a milkmaid. She tensed again when he slipped his hands around her neck, but he only caressed her throat before slipping one hand down to the scooped neckline of her blouse. The heat of his palm felt imprinted on her chest.

Joseph reached for the hem of her blouse and lifted it. Ella raised her arms, and he pulled it off her. She was left wearing only a camisole, having rejected a corset for this evening. His mouth touched her bare shoulder and she shivered. The tiny hairs on her forearms rose as he pressed soft, damp kisses down the length of her arm. As he’d promised, every touch felt more intense with the blindfold on. Ella held as still as a doll and let him do what he would with her.

Well, my first step was to sign up many months ago. Here I am at Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?profile=1&id=1352577313
And here I am at Twitter: http://twitter.com/Bonnie_Dee

So I had these accounts and did nothing with them—for a very long time. What could I say that was interesting? Plus I needed “friends” to talk to. Then lo and behold people started to Friend me and I learned I had to actually follow a link and accept them as friends. You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to realize that when someone follows your Tweets you should follow theirs too.

I learned about Tweetdeck and downloaded that then stared at the conversations and wondered how I was supposed to just dive in. Plus every time I tried, my sentences were too long. For me it’s hard to keep my word count down.

I’m not exactly a social media butterfly but I’m getting better. Friend me and find out. I guess I still don’t get what the big attraction is to Tweeting but I have to admit I kind of like that soft little twittering sound when a new message pops up while I’m working on my computer.

How many of you are into online socializing? Do you thrive on it or feel it starts to distract you from things you ought to get done?

Have you ever wished to be swept away on an adventure? Kidnapped by a sexy thief and held captive in his desert lair? Aw, come on, you know it’s a secret fantasy even though in real life you’d never admit to it. The Thief and the Desert Flower is just such an old fashioned, politically incorrect yet totally enjoyable story.

Can a princess find love in the arms of a desert thief?

Princess Chala is facing an arranged marriage to a man she’s never met. When her caravan is attacked in the desert and she’s kidnapped by the nomad leader, she thinks only of escape—at first. But the charming rogue, Kyo is set on seducing her until she freely gives him what he’s craved from the moment he saw her. The fiery-tempered princess and the unscrupulous scoundrel engage in a battle of the sexes.
Lust slowly turns to love as they share details of their lives and realize they have more common ground than expected. But Chala’s powerful bridegroom, Brachas isn’t about to let a merger between two kingdoms dissolve without a fight. His soldiers find and reclaim the princess, who now has an agenda of her own.

Can a clever princess and her determined lover save a desert people, bring a despot to justice and find a future together in a world of their choosing?

Please read on for a spicy excerpt.

Fallen Angel Reviews, Maija, 5 Angels, Recommended Read
Bonnie Dee’s world-building is excellent, with fully realised languages, customs and deities, and the plot is fast-paced and exciting. Chala is no damsel in distress but can take care of herself, and she’s more than a match for the cocky, demanding Kyo. There’s so much to enjoy in this story, from the slow burn of the romantic relationship to the sensual love scenes and the pounding excitement of the finale. If you love desert stories and tales of truly star-crossed lovers, you’ll adore The Thief and the Desert Flower.

IReadRomance Blog, Natalie, Recommended Read
I enjoyed this story so much and am tempted to read it all over again! It’s great to see how an author combines two opposite people and designs a world around them. Chala is a fun heroine and I loved how much she grew from a sheltered princess into a more independent woman. Kyo’s magnetism, nature and view on life was very entertaining and made me want to meet him. Their relationship became believable based on their hopes for a different life and the story evolved to make that happen.

Excerpt:
What had he been thinking of, bringing the ganza princess here? Of course, he could hardly take her to camp, letting everyone know what he’d done, but showing her his hideaway practically ensured he could never let her go. If he returned her to her people now, she might not be able to draw a map through the wilderness, but could describe his lair, giving them a starting place for their search. Stupid, Kyo, blinded to reason by a beautiful face and a throbbing cock.

The girl slipped on the shale again, flat gray stone sliding from beneath her shoe and down the slope. Kyo pulled her upright once more and around the big boulder that served as excellent cover for him to watch over the surrounding valley.

“Where are we?”

“Middle of nowhere. Ass of Karachi,” he teased.

That’s what Tanjia, his adopted brother, had called the desert when they were young. Tanjia was originally from Gendera, a survivor of an attack on his village who had stumbled into their camp. He’d won Kyo’s mother’s heart and a place in their tent. In all the years he’d lived with them, he’d never gotten used to the desolation of the nomads’ land and used to make Kyo laugh by calling the desert “God’s asshole”.

Kyo guided the girl into the pitch-black cave. If the desert was dark, the cave was blindness. It sucked up light like the sun drank water. Even Kyo, who knew the layout and right where to find his flint and a torch ready for lighting, stubbed his toe on a rock. He struck sparks from the flint and the oil-soaked torch flared to life. Several large mirrors Kyo had confiscated over the years reflected light around the cave, sending black shadow demons dancing across the stone walls.

He glanced toward his guest, checking out her reaction to his secret domain.

She stood just inside the entrance, brown eyes wide as she gazed around. Kyo looked, too, seeing the place with fresh eyes. He owned nothing larger than could be carried on a pack horse, so there was no furniture, but no one in his tribe had ganza furnishings, which were too hard to transport as they moved from place to place.

The floor boasted several thick carpets with rainbow colors, which gave some cushion against the rocky floor. Sometimes he liked to lie belly-down on them, tracing his finger over the intricate woven patterns. Would the princess think the carpets pretty? Would she find the cushions, mirrors and trinkets gained from years of thieving as rich as he did? Kyo saw only dismay in her eyes. He studied his meager possessions again and realized they were a collection of junk. To her they were scavenged odds and ends only an ignorant desert rat would think luxurious.

His gut twisted and he turned away from her to ignite the previously laid campfire with the torch. After that he lit his oil lamp and set it on the flat rock he used as a table. He gestured at a pile of cushions on the floor.

“Sit. I take care of horses.” He bound her hands together, but doubted he needed to. She’d slumped exhausted onto the pillows and her eyes were nearly closed.

Kyo retreated from the cave and drew a deep breath as he gazed across the shadow-filled land below. What had he done? What was he going to do with the woman sitting in his den? His expectation she’d adjust to being his prisoner was ludicrous. Just then he’d have given anything to start the day over. This time he wouldn’t look twice at the ganza princess—simply take her jewels and ride away.

Night was plunging the valley below the rocky outcropping into blackness. His torch would be visible for miles. He’d better tend the animals quickly. He rubbed down both horses and left them cropping the sparse grass.

As he walked back up to the cave, Kyo clenched his hands lightly at his sides, his stomach fluttering. What was wrong with him? Where were his balls that he was allowing this woman to make him suddenly nervous? This was his land, his kingdom in the desert. He was in charge and what she thought of him or his den didn’t matter in the least.

With that attitude, he strode into the cave, shoulders back, chin up, his arrogant bearing proclaiming him a leader among his people and a fine figure of a man. He stopped short when he saw the woman. She lay on her side on the pile of cushions, eyes closed, fast asleep or pretending to be. Her bound hands were drawn up near her face. One naked leg gleamed pale in the lantern’s glow. The open flap of her split skirt showed everything. He couldn’t take his eyes off that smooth, gleaming leg from the ankle above her shoe up to the lacy edge of her underwear.

His cock rose hard and full, pressing into his pants. He tore his gaze away from her casually bent leg to look at her face. Thus far, he’d only caught flashes of snapping brown eyes and a jutting lower lip. For the first time, he was free to study her features without interruption.

In sleep, her face was relaxed and very young. Shinjate! How old was she? Her sun-flushed cheeks were as soft as a young child’s, not weathered by sun or wind. Her pouting rosebud of a mouth invited kisses, and he imagined sucking the plump lower lip between his teeth. Her brown hair gleamed golden in the lamplight and tumbled around her face in flowing waves.

A frown creased her finely drawn eyebrows and she made a small protesting sound in her throat. Guilt struck him like a snake’s fangs that she must be dreaming of the raid with Kyo as the demon of her nightmare. He wanted to sit beside her, stroke her tangled hair and soothe her fears away, but very likely his touch would only startle her awake into her real-life nightmare.

Instead, he carefully spread a length of lightweight jamoma over her body. After watching her sleep a few moments longer, he headed to the back of the cave. Kneeling beside the spring-fed pool that bubbled up in a crevasse in the rock, he drank his fill then peeled off his clothes and washed the sweat and grit from his skin. This abundance of water was an indulgence he would never take for granted. His appreciation for cleanliness had reached the point where he could hardly stand to spend time in camp, where water was strictly rationed and sweat-soaked fabrics dried stiff against dirty bodies.

When he’d cleaned up, he put on a fresh shirt and set his other to soak. He scooped a dipperful of water and padded barefoot across the cave to set it near the woman. If she woke in the night, she would be thirsty.

Stroking his hand over the jagged tear she’d made in his cheek, he wondered if he dare untie her hands. He decided against it, not wanting to wake with his head bashed in. After smothering the torch and turning the lamp wick low, he paused to stare at the sleeping woman again. Her eyelids flickered and he wondered if she was faking sleep.

Kyo considered lying beside her, holding her snug against him, but for tonight, he would sleep separately, letting her know she was safe with him. Soon enough he’d wrap himself around her, cover her body with his, touch her, kiss her, lick her… He swallowed, his cock hard as granite.

“Time. Patience. Persistence.” His grandfather had repeated those words many times. That creed was what gave the desert people the strength to survive in a land no others would inhabit.

Taking the words to heart, Kyo wrapped himself in a plain, woven blanket and lay down. He would be as steady and inexorable as the wind that shaped the desert to its whim. And slowly he would bend the woman’s will to his.