The Romance Reviews Erotic Romance Madness Hop!
Welcome to The Romance Reviews Erotic Romance Madness Hop! Let’s get talkin’. First – yes, you’re in the right spot – and yes- there’s going to be a ton of fun and prizes! I’m Jianne Carlo and I write erotic romance in several genres, Paranormal Suspense, SEALs suspense (yum-yum), Viking historicals (double-yum), Time-Travel, and Multicultural.
We’re all offering prizes on this blog hop and here are my prizes:
A $15 Amazon gift card
An eBook copy of The Last Call of a Soul (if you already have it, one of my other books)
In addition – if you enter before Saturday, May 12 2012 Midnight and like my Facebook author page or follow me on Twitter – you’re also entered in my Mother’s Day KINDLE FIRE contest!!!
To win you need to do the following:
1. Leave a comment with your email address (can’t contact a winner without it)
2. If you don’t want to receive notes or updates from me – write NO in caps in your comment
3. Like me on Facebook (optional, but you get an extra entry in the KINDLE contest if you do – please let me know you did in the comment)
4. Follow me on Twitter (optional, but you get an extra entry in the KINDLE contest if you do – please let me know you did in the comment)
Today, the topic for the blog is why I like one of my books. The Last Call of a Soul is the book I’ve chosen. Why? It’s smokin’ hot or as one review described it – smexkin’, a hold-your-breath page turner, and populated with characters that, as another reviewer said - just jump off the page and right into your heart.
Melanie White, a direct descendant of Ixota Migziwa, He Who Sees With Eagle Eyes, is a White Wolf spirit healer -- a maggishahwi who hears the last call of a soul. Melanie's
been in love with Mike Dorland forever.
Mike’s the eldest son of one of the original three founders of the quaint town of Chabegawn, the royalty of the town. Melanie’s father is the official Native American town drunk, the man who killed Mike’s father while driving under the influence. How far apart can two worlds be?
Mike Dorland’s a half-breed wolf bent on two missions: claiming Melanie as his mate, and finding out who’s behind the spate of killings in Chabegawn. Unfortunately, Melanie’s got a mission of her own: saving the black bear mothers and cubs. She's ready to risk her life to capture the killers. All she needs to do offer the perfect bait -- herself.
Mike will have to risk everything to protect his mate from this new terror...unless maybe their missions and two worlds turn out to be one.
Without further ado, I’ll give you a sample from The Last Call of a Soul and you can judge for yourself if what the reviewers are saying is right!
The Last Call of a Soul – Excerpt:
“Put me down, you bully.” Melanie cuffed Mike's shoulder and winced when her knuckles stung.
“No.” Damn him for sounding so smug and arrogant.
“You are not taking me home.” She folded her arms and scowled at him.
“Too right. I’m taking you to the cabin.”
Whaat? “You can’t do that.”
“Watch me.”
He was even more beautiful up close. Any woman would kill for his flawless bronzed complexion—not an open pore in sight, and even his stubble had a roguish he-man appeal. The short black fuzz gave him a piratical allure. Figured. His sexy mouth settled into the now familiar grim line. Lordy, she couldn’t prevent a soft sigh. His lips were rose pink, and he smelled better than mouthwatering double-fudge hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. Loads and loads of marshmallows—creamy and melting over her tongue.
“Melanie?”
“Hmm.”
“If you keep staring at my lips as if you want to eat them, we won’t even make it into the pickup.”
Melanie blinked and looked up to find him studying her with such intensity that she shivered. Then his words pushed through her lust-fogged brain matter, and a wave of heat scalded every inch of her skin. She buried her face in his shirt. So not the right thing to do. No one had the right to smell so mouthwateringly delicious. No one. The wind gusted: the ice in the air a torrid contrast to the desire burning her from scalp to toes.
He halted, and she realized they’d reached his truck. Not thirty seconds later, they were on the move. The pickup’s cabin felt suffocating. Mike filled the small space to overflowing. His smell, his body, his muscular thighs, even the sound of him breathing overwhelmed her. She shifted close to the door and rested her cheek against the cold window.
“No questions, Melanie?”
Her mind was too muddled to string together a logical phrase, far less formulate a rational query. And she was too scared to ask the question. Then it hit her. The two of them at his family cabin. All alone. It couldn’t be. Mike Dorland couldn’t mean to…her?
“No? I have one. Are you on the pill?”
Huh? She straightened, jammed her back into the corner, and risked a quick glance. For a second, their gazes met, and she hastily lowered her eyelids and then studied her fingers. She kept her nails trimmed short; no time or money for manicures. Only when her lungs started burning did Melanie realize she was holding her breath. On the pill? As if she needed to be.
He geared down, and they turned onto a dirt road.
She couldn’t stop staring at her nails, and all her spit seemed to have dried up.
“Not curious about me being a half-breed?”
That jump-started her stun-gunned gray cells. She snorted and crossed her arms. “You’re a Dorland. As white as they come.”
“I am a Dorland, but the woman you know as my mother didn’t give birth to me.” He made the incredulous claim in a good-morning-how-are-you bland tone.
Melanie couldn’t stifle a gasp. She clamped her lips together and turned to stare at him.
He braked and twisted to face her. A small smile played across his lips, and he tipped her chin. “I’m half Native Canadian. A woman from a tribe on one of the lake islands was my birth mother.”
She couldn’t process his words. They bounced around in her head. Native. Canadian. Tribe. Birth mother? Mrs. Dorland—not his real mom?
“You didn’t seem surprised last night. That I knew about your father and grandfather.”
Melanie shook her head, but the move jumbled her thoughts even more and she gritted her teeth. Concentrate. She waved her hands. “I don’t understand. Any of this.”
“You must have known, Melanie. When Shuman refused to give sanctuary to Drake and me all those years ago. That kind of decision isn’t made without a council of elders and discussion with the tribe’s members.”
Her eyes would surely pop out of her head if he said another word. She put up her hand. “Stop. You asked for sanctuary from the tribe?”
“Not long after my Uncle Boyd was murdered.”
“I never heard anything about you and Drake and sanctuary.” Nothing made sense.
He scrubbed his chin. “If you didn’t know about me being a half-breed, why did you start avoiding me in high school? Why the nose-in-the-air attitude? If I so much as came into a room—you ran in the other direction.”
Because Valérie de Verteuil had told practically the whole school about Melanie’s crush on Mike one lunchtime in the cafeteria. The whole room, every single student, had erupted into a snickered guffaw that she still heard every single time Valérie walked into the Caboose.
Until the day Valérie graduated, she had taunted Melanie at every opportunity about the great divide between a Dorland and a White. Because her parents were the town drunks and his were the town’s royalty. Because she was plump and had short legs and a manly jaw. Because she was Native American. A litany of becauses Melanie didn’t have to strain to remember.
Wait a jammin’ minute. It couldn’t be… She studied the grim frown spiking his brows together. “Why are we here? Why are you telling me this? And why do you want to know if I’m on the pill?”
“Because the first time we make love, I don’t want anything between us—no condoms, no lies.”
She shivered when he trailed a finger up her throat and tilted her head back so their gazes connected. She could drown in those silver-rimmed eyes, jump into the circle haloing his dark pupils, and wallow in his stare.
“Tell me you’re on the pill, babe. Make my day, my year, my entire life.”
Melanie gulped and whispered, “No.”
His hand dropped away, and he banged his forehead on the steering wheel. “You’re going to kill me. I want inside you so bad it’s all I can think about.”
Mike Dorland wanted Melanie Frances White. Wanted inside Melanie Frances White. Inside. Melanie licked her lips and couldn’t help it—she snuck a glance at his lap. The bulge in his pants had her mesmerized.
Her pussy clenched. Again and again and again. If he so much as touched her, she’d go up in flames. Spontaneous combustion.
“I guess I’m taking you home after all.” He straightened, stuck the key into the ignition, and switched on the engines.
I hope you enjoyed!
Don’t forget to leave a comment with your email address and to do the Facebook and Twitter like and follow if you’re so inclined. To continue on the hop, click on the button below and it’ll take you to your next stop. Have a blast – a great weekend – and, if appropriate – a fantastic Mother’s Day.
Cheers,
Jianne
