Friday, October 31, 2008

Haunted Blog!




HAUNTED BLOG TOUR








Haunted Blog Roll


Skhye Moncrief
Michele Hart
Marly Mathews
Elizabeth Melton Parson
Brenda Weaver
Hywela Lyn
Masha Holl
Sheri Lewis Wohl
Sister Writers
PL Parker
Sky Purington
Beth Caudill
Susan Saville
Tarah Scott
Betty Hanawa

~Find the hidden tombstones for an extra special treat from Mistress Skhye.

~Anyone who comments on my blog today is entered for a chance to win a download of my latest release, Nocturnally Vexed, just in time for Halloween!

Excerpt from Voodoo Moon by Alisha Paige (Not Contracted Yet)....FOR ADULTS ONLY (Contains Violence and Erotica)

Magenta colored rays of last light shot across the cane fields, turning the yellow stalks burnt orange by the time Talin knocked once on the back door of the great house. His own wife led him inside. Soon she’d be back home, beyond the cane fields, back in the bed where they loved one another. Where they dreamed of escape and a life together. Just the two of them, lying free on the white sands of Montego Bay. No chains to keep them. No fear. Both of them knew they’d likely die on the plantation but visions of freedom gave them a wisp of hope. Something to cling to during the hard times. Times like now.

“Ya is late. She asked for ya twice. Don’ keep her waiting again,” Daisy whispered, wide eyed. Afraid for them both. What if the White Witch knew? What if she knew of their secret marriage and planned to kill them both?

Talin fingered the peacock feather. He folded up the parchment paper into a tiny square and stuffed it into his pocket. Even stealing a sheet of parchment paper from her mistress could prove fatal, but the spell called for it.

Daisy glanced behind her and then stole a quick kiss. He took her face in his hands, watching the kitchen door, pulling her to him again. The feather tickled her cheek as he kissed her between heated, anxious breaths.

“I love ya. Don’ worry.”

Daisy nodded. “Hurry. Go to her.”

“Rusha home. Do the spell when da moon rises clear ovuh da cane fields.”

She pushed his chest with her palms. “I will-a. Go naw. And be careful,” she hissed as a tear dripped from her long eyelashes.

Talin frowned and kissed her one last time. “Don’ cry. Go home. I’ll see ya in the morn.”

Daisy let herself out and ran across the wide cane fields as the wind whistled into her ears. Dry, autumn leaves rustled in the breeze, twirling, dancing behind her, chasing her skirts as she fled home, crying silently, praying her love would return to her. Praying that the White Witch would spare her husband. A pain shot through her at the reality of it all. Now. Tonight. He would betray her. He had to or death would be swift.

Tonight he would lie with another woman. A wicked woman. Annie Palmer, the voodoo queen of Rose Hall. Of French heritage, she’d moved to Haiti at the tender age of ten. Both of her parents died of yellow fever and she was raised by her Haitian nanny, groomed for the black magick. And children are most impressionable while still in a state of innocence. Those taught the voodoo while still pure attain the darkest realms. And Annie was as black as a shadow during a new moon. No light came from her eyes. She was all death. All evil. Wicked through and through. The devil soared through her veins, lapping at any sense of good or human kindness. Nothing of the sort came from this kind of voodoo queen.

Her powers had grown tenfold over the years. Her slaves feared her. Her husbands feared her. If they survived. Two had not. And number three stayed away on business trips. It was no doubt she instructed him too. He was far too old and pudgy for her taste. His wealth served it’s purpose well. He kept the plantation’s cane business flourishing and she kept the slaves cowering in fear. To be called to work in the great house was no honor on this plantation. The home slaves lived in darkest dread. She killed for a wrong look or if even one of them became too ill to work. It was certain death, after weeks of torture in the dungeon beneath the house, days and nights filled with soaring rage from a woman so beautiful. No one could deny her beauty. The first taken to her chambers had thought their affair would seal his freedom. It was his death warrant.

Talin climbed the creaky stairs, leading to the White Witch’s bed chamber. He would be the third lover she’d taken this fall but he would not die like the previous two or the other dozen or so before him.

Rounding the hall leading to Annie’s bedroom, a blast of cold wind assaulted him. She was watching him. Goosebumps rose in swarms across his warm flesh. Spirits pushed him back. Good spirits. Loved ones. Ancestors that had come before him, pushing hard on his shoulders and chest. He grunted, walking through the phantom warnings. The dark hallway glowed with burning magick voodoo lamps; coconut shells, crabs shells and pumpkin gourds filled with bones, herbs, dirt, powders and petals floating in oil. A sorceress’s candle for the dead. She was calling out for protection for herself, destruction for others. Hideous evil, wicked intent bled from the walls, silently screaming throughout the halls of the great house. He wanted to run but could not. He would fight. She had no idea that Talin was a voodoo priest before enslavement. Back in Africa he was the magick one. The anointed one. A houngan sent by the spirits as a white priest.

Of goodness.

He’d been raised to exorcise the demons and now he would face one of the worst design. A beautiful seductress with a serpent’s soul.

He’d been able to conceal his priesthood. Goodness was often overlooked and so it was with him on the plantation. A leader of the slaves, in charge of hundreds that worked the cane fields. He knew she could read minds. Not his. He wouldn’t allow it. The magick wouldn’t allow it. He knew she would one day call on him. Take him as her lover as she did so many others. The spirits foretold it. He knew it as a boy in Africa. Visions of the sultry White Witch lying in her bedchambers floated through his dreams. Lying in wait in a red room. A murderess. He would end it all. She knew it, yet she did not.

Talin called to her. Called to the demon within and it only made her want him more. His power. His refusal to do her favors, falling for her acts of kindness. Like all the others. All of them dead now. How many times had she pretended to be smitten with a strong slave? A man in chains. A man she could control. A man she owned. All of them had thought she really loved them, that her infatuation with them would be their freedom. Her powers were so strong, so void of the light, they never saw it coming. Like a mother smothering a new born child. Her magick over them had made them believe. He would not. He would fight her and win.

Heavy rains pummeled the roof as he rapped on her door.
“Come in.”

Talin pushed the door open with two thick fingers, peering inside. She lay naked on red, silk sheets. He’d never seen her hair down. She was a sight. Beyond his imagination. A tiny miniature of a woman. Four foot ten in height with eyes the color of green meadows, hair black as a raven’s wing, trailing over her breasts in silky waves, her lips as full as an African woman, pursed and wet.

“Shut the door behind you,” she cooed.

Talin swallowed, shut the door and fingered the feather in his pocket. Her powers were already weakening him. He felt no more dread, no more darkness. Only hot, overbearing lust. His mind went numb. His cock throbbed, lifting against his trousers. She crooked her finger at him. He walked to the bed. Patting the pillow, she smiled, showing off brilliant white teeth, laughing, arching her slender, ivory neck. His erection grew. She drew a circle around both nipples with long, painted finger nails, licked her parted lips and opened her legs wide, her knees pointing to the ceiling, her wetness flickering in candle glow. Sweat slithered down his brow, over his nose, cheeks, dripping from his chin. The room was unbearably hot. A fever shot through him. Like iridescent poison, longing to race through him and kill him.

He was hers. Daisy was forgotten. He only wanted to sheathe himself inside of her, taste her, please her and make her scream. To bed this woman. A master of slaves. Tonight he would dominate and thrill the White Witch. Forget Black Magick. All he could see now was her. And himself inside of this beautiful creature. He had been born for this day and the ache was so fierce. The sting of it shocked him.

“Undress,” she ordered.

Talin did as he was told. Dropped his trousers, flung his shirt off his back and kicked off his shoes. Annie sucked in a throaty breath at the sight.

“Lands! You are a mighty buck!”

Talin’s erection throbbed before her as he walked to the bedside. Annie reached out, took him in her hands, spread her legs wider and touched herself. Talin groaned, ground his teeth.

Talin. He shut his eyes. Daisy was beginning the spell. Her soul was reaching out for his but it was all he could do to acknowledge that she was calling to him. He pushed her from his mind, wanting to be angry for it, wanting to connect with her, with his magic so he could push the White Witch away but he was drunk with lust, with fever for his master. She reached for him, took his hand and pulled him to her. Talin crawled over the bed, eyeing her, sitting on his knees as she rubbed him and touched herself. His teeth ached, trying to ward off the witch’s powers, wanting to connect with his frantic wife. Knowing somewhere in the deep caverns of his mind that he should connect with his wife.

Annie was stronger than even he guessed her to be. It would take every ounce to fight her off. She moaned, arching her back, her neck as she plunged slender fingers inside herself, writhing, licking her lips, hissing, moaning.

Talin.

Talin shook his head. Grunted.

Ezili Freda, goddess of love…save my love from the darkest, black magick …bring ‘im ‘ome to me.

“Lick me,” Annie begged.

Talin bent his head and when he did he curled into a ball, crying out in agony, holding himself as if he’d been kicked in the groin. Annie screeched, scrambling to her feet, pacing the room, drawing the curtains closed, blowing out the candles.

“Whose in here?” she demanded, panicked, pulling on a robe, searching beneath the bed and then the wardrobe across the room.

Talin lay there wincing in pain.

“What black magick travels to my room, preventing me from lying with this man? Show yourself!”

Talin, wide eyed, in excruciating pain realized for the first time that though he was too powerful for her to read his mind, she could read Daisy’s. He slammed his eyes shut, catapulting his soul back to their home. What spell had she cast to hurt him so? His spirit shuddered at the sight beneath him. Daisy had fashioned a doll after him as if he were an enemy, poking it with needles. He had no time. No time to save her. Annie would be able to see it all. Her jealousy had driven her to it. She was to sacrifice the rooster and prepare the paket kongo filled with feathers of the dead bird, crushed leaves of twa-pawol, bwa-din and zo-devan to protect them both. Instead she’s prevented their love making. His soul drained back into his body and the pain hit him again like a rock to the head. And again she poked the doll. He cried out in agony. There was no way he could go to her, help her if she kept him in such pain.

Annie paced back and forth, chanting an old Haitian voodoo spell. Talin watched her. Ah, luxury. Daisy had stopped, afforded him a moment of bliss. A chance to catch his breath before the next needle. Annie stopped at the mirror and what he saw in the reflection made him cry out in fright. A demon stared back. Not the beautiful woman with long, flowing hair. A hideous creature with curled horns, scraggly gray hair, drooling, stared back. She was a true priestess of the devil. A dark mambo. Black voodoo had claimed her soul.

He watched the reflection speak out loud, saying the most lovely and the most terrible thing he’d ever heard. “Daisy.”

And then she ran from her bedchamber, bounding down the stairs and out the back door, fleeing to the slaves’ homes. Somewhere she’d never gone before. He struggled off the bed and watched her from the narrow bedroom window. His heart lurched. Horror upon horrors tumbled toward him when he saw the White Witch wielding a machete high above her head.

“No! Daisy!”

Then he fell to his knees when she poked him again. He crumbled into a heap as waves of nausea soared through him. Another poke in the groin and then the head. He moaned in agony, grabbed the window sill and looked toward his home. He heard Daisy scream and wanted to toss his soul to her though he’d have little power, he’d be with her in her final moments. If only he could have a few seconds to garner enough power to do so.

Annie flung open the flimsy straw door and rose the machete high above her head. Daisy shrieked, still clutching the doll when the White Witch cut her hand, slicing the doll in two.

Talin gasped for breath, his palm against the windowpane. “Da-Daisy,” he gurgled. Blood poured from his mouth, spreading across the wooden floors. He reached for the feather in his pocket but felt only flesh. Talin crawled to the bedside, found his pants and then the feather and parchment paper. Naked, on all fours, covered in blood, he chanted the words to the voodoo spirit that would take him into a new life form, saving him from certain death.

“Papa Gede, father of the here and afta, take me to the next world, the next life so I ma’ live long enuff ta save’ my love from the White Witch.”

Now drained of most his life’s blood, near death, shivering and mad with fright for Daisy, Talin smeared the feather and the parchment paper over the pool of blood collected beneath him. Rage shot through his veins. His back arched, his limbs shook. Pain tore through his muscles as he prayed silently for death, an end to this misery.

He heard a crackling of bones, snapping, twisting and then only the rain pelting the windows. He lay there. Painless. Lying in warm blood. He opened his eyes. The room was now a muted gray. He blinked and stood. On all fours. He looked at his hands and screamed. Beneath him were four gray legs covered in fur and the sound coming from his throat was not a man in agony but some kind of animal he’d never even seen in the rain forest but had seen in years past, in Africa. A wolf.

He sniffed and caught her scent. Daisy. And then he remembered. He leapt through the window, past the balcony below where the White Witch doled out orders and onto the back lawn, running before his swift feet landed, sprinting through the cane fields, back home to find his wife. The door was still flapping in the rain and wind when he found her, lying on the bed in a pool of blood, clutching the doll cleaved in half while the White Witch hissed from the corner, her white robe stained, splattered with his wife’s blood. In an instant she was changed and charging, nails extended like claws, growing from her fingertips.

There was no hesitation. He leapt for her throat, tore it out while she changed to her demon form. Her horns rattled against the wooden planks when he dropped her and leapt to the bed, licking Daisy’s ashen face. Her eyes were open, filled with tears. He nuzzled her, whined and laid upon her body feeling for one precious breath of life.

He was too late. Horrendous pain and misery flooded his soul and now he could not even hold her, kiss her, bury her behind their home. He stood beside her while the winds roared, the rain came in torrents, the door still smacking the frame like a man gone mad. A terrible howl of miserable loss erupted from his throat. His keen ears picked up voices. Slave voices. He darted off the bed and stuck his nose out the door. Two slaves approached with torches billowing in the heavy rains. He glanced back at her, whined and leapt through the rains, running for the rain forests, never to return.


~Happy Halloween

Alisha Paige
www.alishapaige.com

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Halloween Ball at The Wild Rose Press~Midnight Oct. 31!








Come to The Wild Rose Press and join in all the wicked fun at The Halloween Bash Chat!

The Wild Rose Press

I saw Masha was in costume so I had to run inside and get mine!

Happy Halloween!

~Alisha Paige

One More Day Until the Haunted Blog!



Do you like ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, pumpkins, full golden moons and cool Halloween nights?

Do you believe in hauntings? What about Haunted Blogs? Come back on All Hallow's Eve...if you have the guts.

Make sure you wear a cross and carry holy water if you want to win some spooky prizes.


~Your Haunting Hostess
Alisha Paige

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Debut Author Christina Phillips Gabbing About Witches, Writing, Life and Clive!


Alisha: I'm very excited to introduce Christina Phillips to you today! Welcome, Christina!

Christina: Thank you Alisha for having me on your blog today to talk about Foretaste of Forever. I’m thrilled to be here!

This is my debut release and is a dark erotic romance with paranormal elements, from the Scarlet Rose line of The Wild Rose Press.
Scarlet Rose

Alisha: Foretaste of Forever sound so delicious! How did you come up with the idea for this story? BTW, I can’t wait to read this!

Christina: Thank you! The premise for Foretaste of Forever actually came to me in a dream – no, not that kind of dream!!! A recurring dream of one scene haunted me for about four years. I knew nothing about this couple who met on a storm tossed beach at midnight except that they were desperately in love and destined to be forever apart.

Eventually I decided to write their story down, just to get it out of my head – and amazingly the dreams stopped. But it wasn’t until a few years later I went back to it and added the spice and submitted to The Wild Rose Press.

Alisha: Wow! I just love dreams! Do you love all things paranormal? I know I do!

Christina: Yes I do! I love reading both light and dark paranormal, and anything with a strange or quirky twist on reality. Give me tortured vampires, drop dead sexy weres, irresistible immortals and I’m a happy girl!

Alisha: Mmmmmm....me too! When did you first begin writing?

Christina: I first tried my hand at writing while learning to drive (not at the same time… lol!) I hated learning to drive with a passion and the writing took my mind off it. The writing sucked and I received form rejections, but at least I passed my driving test.

However, the writing bug bit me big time. And although I gave it up for a few years while I had a few babies, after moving to Australia I decided to give it another shot. So I started writing seriously nine years ago last Easter.

Alisha: What inspires you to write?

Christina: I have to write, or go completely mad! I’m compelled to write down the stories clamoring in my mind, it’s like an addiction and take that away from me and man, I’m a real meanie! Plus of course I enjoy being the Goddess of my own Universe far too much to give it up!!

Alisha: Do you do anything to get into the mood to write? Music? Food? Beverage? Scenery?

Christina: Music distracts me when I write, as I just sit there singing along to the songs. Although I have a weakness for Meat Loaf’s Bat Out of Hell and play the CD non stop at full volume while in the kitchen. My muse appreciates it! Food? Ah well if I started eating at the computer I dread to think what size my butt would be right now (actually I dread thinking about my butt at all, but let’s not go there!) Ditto with the beverage since I’m a total coffee-holic and could drink the stuff all day!

Scenery – Well, not quite scenery but this is my current scene. I’ve recently moved into the spare bedroom (eldest daughter left home) and it’s all pink and girly and ALL MINE!!! *evil cackle* I love it soooo much. I have all my photos of my babies up, all my lovely romance novels within easy reach and best of all I can close the door when I’m writing steamy scenes! (up until recently I wrote in the corner of the family room and there was NO privacy! Tricky when writing an erotic scene!)

Alisha: Ahhh...that private pinky room must be sublime! I envy you! What is your very favorite kind of hero?

Christina: One who would do anything for his heroine, preferably involving great personal sacrifice, emotional torture and a complete reassessment of everything he believed in (yeah I’m pretty evil, huh!)

Alisha: Snicker...wow...you really write about the fantasy man don't you? Let me know if you run across the real thing...tee hee. Do you plan your stories or do you write by the seat of your pants?

Christina: When I first started writing contemporary romance I used to meticulously plan every single chapter, right down to lines of dialogue and the precise moment each chapter would end. But over the years my outlines became less rigid, and by the time I began writing paranormal my notes were very sketchy. Now I’m writing erotic romance I don’t have any kind of outline, and only a vague notion of how it might end (romance = HEA – but apart from that nada!) It’s exciting but also scary not knowing where I’m going with it!

Alisha: I know exactly what you mean. I'm a pantster too. What is your favorite time of day to write and why?

Christina: Ideally I much prefer to write first thing in the morning when I’m fresh. Since that only happens in a blue moon, my typical day consists of the school run, a session at the gym (I would rather be writing but I NEED the gym, you know?!) shopping, errands. So usually I’m at the computer by 11 am. I find I can’t write at night, my brain leaks.

Alisha: Please tell us about yourself. What do you do when you aren’t writing?

Christina: Apart from the above… I have one husband and three adorable children who keep me on my toes. For some strange reason they expect to be fed every night which means I have to cook. This is not a pretty sight. I chat with writer friends on MSN (but that’s always in the line of research *cough cough* it’s not like we gossip or do anything like that). Reading, of course! Catching up on movies. Drooling over Clive Owen (hehehe had to get Clive in here somehow!)

Alisha: Ooooh...no you didn't!!! Giant cackle! Oh yeah...those Clive movies are um...hero research, er..among other things! For those of you reading this that don't know...Clive is taken! Christina THOUGHT he was hers but I corrected her on the matter. We decided to share him. So far it's worked out beautifully.

(Doing the hair flip and getting back into interviewer mode)Okay..ready now...Do you write other genres? If so, please elaborate.

Christina: I started out writing contemporary romance and I still enjoy writing them, although I haven’t worked on one for a year or so now, since I discovered the delights of erotic romance!

Alisha: Wow! I did the exact same thing! Once I read my first paranormal, I was hooked! What are you reading right now?

Christina: I’m totally addicted to Nalini Singh’s Psy/Changeling series. They rock! Next up I have Alisha Paige’s Nocturnally Vexed, which I can’t wait to get my teeth into!

Alisha: Oh! Nalini Singh is so wonderful! (Blush..let me know how you like my book, Christina.)

Please tell us where we can find you and let us know what you’re working on now!

Christina: You can find me at my website Christina Phillips

Or check out what I’ve been up to lately at my blog Christina's Blog

I also have a MySpace page
Christina's My Space
(come and friend me, I’d love to see you!)

Manic Readers

Currently I’m writing another erotic romance set during the Roman invasion of Cymru. This is a full length novel, not a short story, and I’m really enjoying it.

Alisha: Sounds fascinating! You’re an erotic author so I just have to ask… what is sexist to you?

Christina: Ooooh, I am totally in love with my current hero, a powerful Roman centurion, and basically everything he says and does while with his heroine I find incredibly sexy and adorable. In real life I would probably have to give him a slow and painful death for being so impossibly Alpha but as a fantasy, well, he rings all my bells!!!

Alisha: What one word or phrase will get you all hot and bothered?

Christina: Well I’m not sure I should share, considering I have Issues when it comes to this hot guy(!), but let’s say if Clive Owen were to magically appear in my office, give me his sexy smile, hook his finger at me and say, “Now,” it’s pretty much a cert I wouldn’t just get hot and bothered but probably incinerate on the spot!!!

Alisha: Swoon! Well, if that happens, you better let me know ALL THE DETAILS!

Blurb from Foretaste of Forever
Elyesha, last surviving descendant of a line of powerful witches, finally finds the only man she's ever loved, the man who deserted her countless years before. But Ben is torn between desire and despair when Elyesha, his only love, eventually penetrates his protective retreat. He knows what she wants, but the price of their love is too high. At midnight, on the beach, a battle of wills and erotic seduction ensues as each confronts the other's darkest fears.

Excerpt from Foretaste of Forever
Elyesha hooked her ankles around Ben’s waist as he strode through the castle’s crumbling entrance. For a fleeting moment, she wished it had retained its former glory, but her ancestors had allowed the magnificent stronghold to fall into ruins centuries ago.
Besides, it didn’t matter where she had Ben. So long as she had him. And soon – she would have him forever.
In the Great Hall, with its soaring arches and remnants of ancient grandeur in the carved four poster bed, he paused and she slowly slithered from his grasp. “What shall we do now?” she said, tilting her head to one side and allowing her long hair to tumble provocatively over her shoulder. She traced one finger over the hard ridge of his erection and hid a smile as Ben clenched his jaw.
“No suggestions?” She raised one eyebrow and trailed her finger over his groin and toward his chest. She didn’t know why he fought against her some nights. What did he hope to achieve? Sooner or later, she’d get her way and then he would see how foolish all his protestations had been. “Perhaps I’ll strip you naked,” she suggested, loosening the ties on his scarlet linen shirt.
He didn’t reply, except to give the merest grunt of a laugh. She tugged his open shirt from his britches and admired his perfectly sculpted chest, before sliding the shirt over his shoulders and along his finely muscled arms.
“Enjoying yourself?” There was a rasp to his voice, as if he tried to deny the rising desire between them.
She shot him an exasperated glance. “I intend to enjoy myself far more before this night’s over.” She tugged at the fastenings at his crotch, deliberately prolonging the procedure as she massaged his rigid shaft. Occasionally she found Ben’s inhuman self-control infuriating, but even that didn’t matter. Because, in the end, he always succumbed.
But sometimes, she wished for the early years. Before Ben had rebelled against their relationship. Before his misguided sense of honor had risen its unwelcome head and corroded their perfect world.
Impatiently she thrust the thought aside. She admired his honor, but had no intention of destroying what they had at its altar.
“So long as you’re enjoying yourself.” Ben’s sardonic comment penetrated her thoughts, and wet heat flared deep in her pussy at the look on his face. He was no longer rigid with self-control but lust, and his eyes glowed with rising desire. “I exist for your amusement, Elyesha.”
She ripped the last fastening free and dragged his pants down his muscled legs. “Never forget that.” Her voice was uneven, her heart hammering against her breast. How could he do this to her, after so many years? She had only to think of him to want him, had only to see him to desire him. And when he teased her, she knew in her heart she would willingly die for him.
If she was only given the chance.
He hauled her to her feet. “And now it’s your turn to entertain me.” There was no hint of reluctance in his eyes now. Only love. For her. She wrapped the knowledge around her heart and knew it wouldn’t be long before Ben made the final commitment to her.

Purrrrrrr.......Okay, I think I have to go wake up my husband now. Whoa! That was delicious! I look forward to reading this yummy Halloween treat! Thank you for being my guest today, Christina! I had a blast!

There's only two days left to enter my Halloween contests! Scroll down to Is Making Love In A Graveyard Creepy, leave a comment and you'll be entered into a drawing for my latest release, Nocturnally Vexed. Go to my Contests at my web site and enter my Wicked Halloween Writing Contest at Alisha Paige for a chance to win a basket of scary books! And come back on Halloween for my Haunted Blog and a chance to win many books and prizes and participate in a multi-author Halloween Scavenger Hunt!

~Happy Halloween
Alisha

Vamps, Detectives and Liz Jasper...Oh My!




I'm thrilled to welcome Liz Jasper to my blog today! Check out her sassy interview and her Halloween contest!

Alisha: Tell us about the hero and heroine in your latest release.

Liz: My latest release, Underdead In Denial, is the sequel to my award-winning paranormal mystery, Underdead. The heroine in the series is an overworked and underappreciated middle school science teacher who wants the fun life she thought she would be having in her early twenties, now that she's out of school and has an income. When she finally goes out on a Friday night, albeit to a science department dinner, she meets a guy who is gorgeous, intelligent and interested in her. He seems too good to be true and he is. He's a vampire, if she can believe it, which on bad days she can, since it is very hard to hide the embarrassing vampire traits she's developed since he sunk his teeth into her neck like some Goth gone wild. There are two men in the series, Will, the vampire who for reasons only he knows is acting more like a suitor around Jo than a bloodsucking demon, and Gavin Raines, the handsome pepper hunting detective who doesn't seem to know whether to kiss Jo or stake her.

Alisha: Sounds yummy! If you were granted three wishes by a genie, what would they be?

Liz: I've watched enough Charmed to know accepting a genie's wishes is a surefire way to get one's self into trouble. I'd wish for chocolate, warm weather, and world peace, except I have a bad feeling I'd be sitting around eating nothing but chocolate, sweltering on an island surrounded by peace loving hippies playing flutes and banging tamborines.

Alisha: Giggle...well, I could think of worse things. Tons of chocolate and long haired musical hippies doesn't sound too bad. If you could go anywhere to tomorrow, where would you go?

Liz: The Swiss Alps. Assuming that warm weather wish holds.

Alisha: Ahhhhh...now that would be submlime. If you could see anyone tomorrow (dead or alive), who would it be?

Liz: Hmmm. Now, I have to balance this against the fact that I'll apparently be hiking in the Alps. Oooh, got it. Captain Von Trapp. Yes, I have a secret crush on him from the Sound of Music. Admit it, you all do too.

Alisha: Wasn't he one heck of a man? Julie Andrews was so lucky! If you could choose six people to spend one week on a desert island, who would it be and why?

Liz: Do I have to be with them? If not, I'm tempted to round up a five of our rottenest in history and force them to spend a week listening to one of the peace loving hippies chanting and singing about love and hope. I think that would be a fitting torment. Obviously, I've watched too much South Park as well. I feel the sudden need to point out that I occasionally watch very serious PBS news shows.

Alisha: I love your sense of humor, Liz! And hippies rock! Why couldn't I have lived through the 60s? If you had one day to spoil yourself, what would you do?

Liz: I'm pretty sure it would involve too much food, a hike somewhere pretty, quality time spent at a spa, a good book and a few good friends.


Alisha: Mmmmm....sounds perfect. What’s the sexiest thing a man has ever done for you or said to you or both?

Liz: "I have matches." It was during a black out and it was cold.

Alisha: Oooh la la! That IS sexy! A man that can light your fire! Thanks for stopping by, Liz!

Underdead blurb:
Science teacher Jo Gartner thinks teaching geology to hormonal pre-teens is deadly... until she is bitten by an inept vampire and becomes UNDERDEAD--all the problems of being a vampire, none of the perks.

When she finds a body on her classroom floor with teeth marks in his neck, she must figure out who is trying to frame her for murder before her Underdead secret gets out. But she's running out of time. The detective in charge of the case is dogging her every move, her vampire traits are evolving in new and embarrassing ways, and someone wants Jo dead...the traditional way!

Underdead In Denial blurb:
Gorgeous, enigmatic vampire Will is back and almost undead Jo Gartner is more determined than ever to avoid all things vampire and maintain a normal life. And what's more normal than doing community service to help a lovesick friend? But getting dressed up in a Halloween costume for a haunted house fundraiser is not what Jo had in mind.

I have an etrick or treat contest running through Halloween. It's easy and fun and the winner gets a ton of books and Halloween stuff, including a signed copy of Underdead.
Details are on my website:
Liz Jasper

I had a blast interviewing Liz today! Drop me a line at alishapaigewilson@yahoo.com if you're an author and interested in an interview on my blog!

Monday, October 20, 2008

Bending Genres.....Civil Rights for Vamps and Addicted to V...for starters!


Every so often, an author comes up with a spectacular idea. A new premise, concept or twist on the old. In my chosen genre, this is hard to do. So much of it has been done over and over, bent, melted, molded into a new story, a new tale. Each attempt is an attempt to lure readers and fans alike into a new world. With so many writers out there competing for the attention, this is extremely difficult to do, but Charlaine Harris has struck gold with her Southern Vampire Books. HBO's new series, True Blood is based on her genius. That's Sookie and Bill (a very hot vamp) in the photo above.

Set in Bon Temps, Louisiana, her books deal with racism, civil rights and humanity or er...vampanity. Race is no longer an issue or not as big of an issue as say the traditional race wars of the past...black vs. white. No, in Charlaine Harris's world, we're dealing with the difference of species...human vs. vampire and the acceptance of these creatures into our society. Ever heard of the Vampire Rights Amendment? Brilliant, Ms. Harris! Not only did she demonstrate a new twist on racism but she gave the vamps a synthetic blood called True Blood. Yep, that's right, you can stroll into Merlotte's (the local "human" bar) and order a bottle of O negative or a bottle of A if you prefer. Served warm...98.6 degrees to be exact. Ewww! Or for the writers like me out there salivating over her magnificent mind, I'm saying......Whoa! Awesome! Kick ass!

And that's just the tip of the iceberg in Ms. Harris's books. The new drug is called V. You guessed it, vamp blood, sold in vials for $600 bucks. A drop will do ya too! Don't drink to much or you could find yourself in serious...er.....trouble with your...uh.....I don't want to spoil it. Just ask hottie, Jason Stackhouse. He vows never to down a whole vial again but now he's hooked on the stuff. One drop on a tiny square of paper, taken like LSD will give him hallucinations that would raise Jimi Hendrix from the dead. Talk about a purple haze. Chemistry between two individuals is seen and magnified. Ultra sensory overload galore. And if you get a hold of really old V, you better cut it with an aspirin, so it won't coagulate. It will then turn into a red powder which is sniffed like cocaine. And when you run out, you can run to Fangtasia to score some more V from the local vamps. But is it worth your life? Maybe. One look at Eric, the Viking Vampire might change your mind. Maybe not....you decide. I for one....am hooked on this blood lust with it's delicious mix of eroticism, romance, unpredictable plot twists with just enough violence (not for the queasy)to keep my husband interested. Check it out on HBO Sunday nights!

Do you think Vampires deserve rights? If they truly existed in our society, how would you feel? Leave me a comment and I'll enter you into a drawing for my latest release, Nocturnally Vexed, the first book in my hybrid shifter-rapt/blood sucker series about King of the Orgulocks.

~Happy Reading and Writing!
Alisha Paige

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

An Interview with Skhye Moncrief And A Naked on the Staircase Contest!


I'm happy to interview my sister muse, Skhye Moncrief. For those of you living under a rock, all three books in the first series of Song of the Muses are now available! Book I is now available in print and Skhye's muse tale, Ancient Musings is included in this gem! (Book II will be released in print in November and Book III will be available in December.)

Skhye's Naked on the Staircase is NOW AVAILABLE! Just in time for Halloween!!!

CONTEST
Skhye is giving away a box of treats fit for the season to give to one lucky person who can tell me what they think NAKED ON THE STAIRCASE refers to. All guesses are welcome. Nothing is wrong. This is just for fun. And all guesses must be posted by midnight CST Oct 15th.

I'm also giving away a Halloween treat in a separate drawing after midnight!

I had the honor of interviewing Skhye in her penthouse last month. Check it out!

Alisha: Naked on the Staircase sounds yummy! How did you come up with the idea for this story?

Skhye: The title is from an Ashley MacIsaac song. I figured it couldn’t hurt having “naked” in a title. I tend to go for sacrificial, spell, sacrilegious, or seduction. So it’s only fitting I use an “n” word… Not in the just-say-no sense though. Beyond the title, I had a secondary character in another Time Guardian story who needed a story. So, Cowboy got his bit of limelight. He’s really cute in his skivvies!

Alisha: This is a Halloween themed story. Don’t you just love this holiday? What do you do to celebrate?

Skhye: Since I have a toddler, we go trick or treating. We’re very into pumpkin patches too.

Alisha: Giggle...me too. My daughter will be a blue fairy and my son will be a skeleton. Can't wait!

Alisha: When did you first begin writing?

Skhye: Novels… well back when someone asked me to read the first chapters of her story. I remembered that I wrote part of a novel back in high school. It was California-or-bust after that.

Alisha: What inspires you to write?

Skhye: Usually a good documentary on death, Scotland, ancient architecture, or UFOs. Since I like just about everything, let’s just say it’s all in my Time Guardian series.

Alisha: Ooooh, I love documentaries! Lots of good ideas come from these!

Alisha: Do you do anything to get into the mood to write? Music? Food? Beverage? Scenery?

Skhye: To answer these questions, I whipped out a tub of frosting. Isn’t that scary. Food is my catalyst.

Alisha: Mmmm...I just ate some fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. I know what you mean! Those go good with red wine!

Alisha: What is your very favorite kind of hero?

Skhye: My favorite hero is in Feehan’s Mind Games. Love him. Couldn’t tell you why. Isn’t that crazy? I write romance!!! Geesh. I prefer the hero with a good sense of humor curbed by a little cave man in his personality. *snort* There’s nothing like a guy willing to beat someone over the head who messes with you! Not to mention, cave men had muscles.

Alisha: I know what you mean, sis! I love a caveman! My husband is a perfect example. He even has the giant forehead...snort!

Alisha: Do you plan your stories or do you write by the seat of your pants?

Skhye: I write by the seat of my pants after the initial stages of planning a proposal. This seems to be working these days. But it requires a writer to understand the significance of a synopsis and be willing to go back in and add-just the romantic or character growth if it’s lacking.

Alisha: What is your favorite time of day to write and why?

Skhye: For me, whenever. I rarely get to choose when I get to write. Writing in itself makes me feel productive. So I go for it. ;)

Alisha: Please tell us about yourself. What do you do when you aren't writing?

Skhye: Shop for tubs of frosting on sale. Seriously, I’m a big good-deal shopper. And I shuttle the child to her little classes. We spend a lot of time doing crafts, reading, adding, and playing games. I’m concerned about being a responsible parent and want to nurture my child’s intelligence.

Alisha: Man! I need to work on my parenting skills. Elmo and Big Bird seem to be the only people...er creatures... nurturing my children these days. Oh and Slimy the Worm! He's way cool!

Alisha: Do you write other genres? If so, please elaborate.

Skhye: There are other genres? Huh?

Alisha: What are you reading right now?

Skhye: National Geographic TRAVELER. I’m a geek and blog about reference materials. So, if you want to know what I’m reading, check it out. blog.skhyemoncrief.com

Alisha: Please tell us where we can find you and let us know what you’re working on now!

Skhye: www.skhyemoncrief.com, www.timeguardians.com, blog.skhyemoncrief.com, and www.myspace.com/skhyemoncrief

Alisha: What is sexiest to you?

Skhye: KILTS because I’m a leg woman. *snort*

Alisha: What one word or phrase will get you all hot and bothered?

Skhye: Betty Crocker Whipped Butter Crème (LOL, couldn’t resist!)

Alisha: Cackle! Now that is some sexy frosting! Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to conduct this interview. BTW, I love your pool man at the penthouse. He makes one hell of a Cosmo!

Happy Reading!
~Alisha

Monday, October 13, 2008

Buns and Roses Tea for Literacy!




Wow! What a fantastic time I had at the 3rd Annual Buns and Roses Tea for Literacy! The figures aren't in yet but we're hoping to top last year's $8,000 raised for this fabulous cause!

I enjoyed tea with seven wonderful readers and was so thrilled to meet new friends and catch up with readers I met last year! Thanks for sharing this special day with me and choosing me as your hostess author! I had a blast!

Thank you to my beautiful daughter, Dianna for sharing tea with me and my readers as well! That's us posing with Queen of the Vampires and Shapeshifters above!

A very special thank you goes to Lorraine Heath, Jane Graves, Candance Havens, Sandy Blair and the entire Buns crew! It was another unforgettable event for a cause that changes lives every day!

Thank you Mrs. Chris Simmie for opening your beautiful home to the authors! I'm still smelling that pinyon wood burning out back! Such a lovely time! You do the work of the angels at The Literacy Center of Richardson!

And last but certainly not least, thank you, thank you, thank you, Mrs. Sherrilyn Kenyon! Your speech moved me to tears. Your books bring me such joy and have taught me much about my chosen genre! You are truly a pioneer for paranormal authors around the world!

~Happy Reading and Writing to all!
Alisha Paige

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Is making love in a graveyard creepy?


Not for Vex Savaker and Chastity Worthington! Tell me the craziest places you've gotten all hot and bothered and I'll enter you into a drawing for a download of my newest release, Nocturnally Vexed! Winner announced on Halloween!

Here's the blurb and a little taste for you.

Vex had never wooed a human and he wasn’t certain he had a clue of how to go about it, but Chastity, he decided, was worth it. The quicker he could claim her as his mate, the better he liked it. The question was, could he protect Chass from the denizens of Xurath—the bloodsuckers and shifter-rapts that lived among the humans and preyed upon them? Could he protect her from his own beasts?

Inception

Before the Dawn


Long before cave dwellers roamed our land, eons before the giant lizards, when Earth revolved around our brilliant star—the ball of fire that warms us—there was life. Life shrouded in darkness. Creatures were formed, brought to life by vile gods before the one true God created life in His image. The world was black, dank and miserable, and full of endless suffering. Those brave enough to live, forged a dark existence, struggling to survive in the most sinister of places. A place known back then as Xurath, Land of the Undead.

Born into being were two beastly breeds. Two evil sects of incarnation brought to fruition with one purpose in mind, to kill one another. Two dark gods, Folog and Garmut, warred with one another, casting dismal souls upon the black earth to outdo the other. Folog bred the bloodsuckers, undead malformations of his wicked design, walking on two legs, never meant to see the light of day. Garmut bred the shifter-rapts, creatures of many shapes and designs, bearing a cruel combination of hideous features—able to shift and change into various creatures on a whim, a most useful tool in dark Xurath.

The bloodsuckers survived on the shifter-rapts while the shifter-rapts survived on lesser creatures, born from lesser, dark gods. As Xurath journeyed and twirled on its twisted orbit for millions of years, long before our giant star set the world ablaze with light, creatures battled. Fighting to keep their existence, many of them developed special powers over the centuries. Powers that would keep them alive long after the new star was born.

Mutants and hybrids were formed, all of them struggling to overcome black Xurath and live. Many died, killed off by the stronger creatures of the nocturnal land, but those that survived, thrived. A cross creature, born of both bloodsucker and shifter-rapt parentage, a freak of nature some would say, came into being. This creature ruled Xurath before the dawn and still rules today, thriving both in dark and light. He is called Vex. He battles the creatures of bygone centuries. Creatures vile, clever and crafty enough to cross over into the new world, leaving bleak Xurath behind them where living for a day was ordinary. His purpose here and now was to extinguish the rest and send them back.


Chapter One


King’s Cross Station, London, England, 2006

“He’s killed again, Vex.”

Vex stared at the grainy black-and-white photos, taken one hundred and eighteen years earlier, comparing them to full color photos taken last night. Detective Red O’Malley had no choice but to ask for his help. Vex was their last resort. He was used to dealing with the undead, whether it be of the bloodsucker variety or the elusive shifter-rapt; after all, he was a combination of the two.

“I don’t understand,” Vex mumbled, half to himself.

“We think it’s the same guy,” O’Malley added.

“Not just a copycat?”

“We have DNA to back it up.”

Vex’s head shot up as he looked the detective squarely in the eye. “Then why can’t you bloody catch him?”

“We matched DNA from the Whitechapel murders to this murder, but back in 1888, there was no database in play. And so far, this guy’s been clean. At least in this century.”

“Where’d you get the DNA?”

“A piece of hair. Well, a tiny fragment of hair. Less than a centimeter, found trapped in the wax he sealed the letter with.”

“The famous letter to the police? The one promising to kill again?” Vex asked, catching on quickly.

“Yes. For years the letter was thought to be a fake.”

“DNA evidence is hard to dispute,” Vex argued.

O’Malley nodded. “Particularly in this case. It’s a perfect match.”

“Where was the DNA evidence on the recent victim?”

“Semen.”

“Semen? That’s odd. Jack’s never raped before,” Vex replied, scratching his chin.

“Yeah, well he has now. Three times in a row.”

“Looks like he still enjoys pulling out the intestines, uterus and organs,” Vex added while flipping through the photos.

“And mutilating the victim’s face,” O’Malley said, while pointing to a color photo of the most recent killing.

“I’d never taken Jack for a shifter-rapt.”

“Explains why they never caught him,” O’Malley mused.

Vex grunted as he flipped through the photos, comparing the old to the new, all of them eerily similar in method.

“Good Ole’ Jack the Ripper. Who would’ve thought he’d resurface?”

“Seems all the demons are coming out of the woodwork these days,” O’Malley answered.

Vex tucked the photos into his coat pocket as streams of people passed by, boarding the morning train.

“Has the press caught wind of this yet?”

“Not yet. We’re trying to keep a tight lid on this one, considering the hysteria he raised over a century ago.”

“Good thinking,” Vex agreed.

“We won’t be able to stall them long, though. Word travels fast. Rumors are swirling. I heard tell that one of the locals who discovered one of the bodies before dawn has been talking to the tabloids.”

“Who?” Vex asked.

“You know I can’t tell you, Vex. You’ll go threaten him.”

“You’re damn right, O’Malley. Now who is it? Spill the beans. We’ve got three dead girls on our hands. All of them beautiful, young women whose lives were cut short. I need a name.”

O’Malley sighed. It was no use. The hybrid bloodsucker, shifter-rapt would find out anyhow. He seemed to know everyone or every kind, rather. He’d find out. He had his ways and O’Malley knew it. “He’s a bartender. He was on his way home after work. He lives just outside Whitechapel.”

“A name, O’Malley,” Vex repeated, staring the man down.

“Ralph Finnigan. He’s co-owner of the pub.”

Vex was gone before the detective uttered the man’s last name. O’Malley watched as the common black bird flew out of King’s Crossing Station and into the light of day.

* * * *

Chastity Worthington was alone at her desk. The newsroom was deserted at this hour. Everyone else had gone home to join their families, have dinner and turn in for the night. Chass wasn’t tired. Not in the least. She’d gotten a hot tip and, if it was real, this story could take her all the way to the top. She surfed the Net, stopping on one of the foremost Ripperologist sites. She clicked onto grisly black-and-white photos. She clicked again, enlarging the photo of Mary Jane Kelly, Jack’s final victim, killed on November 9, 1888. Chass cringed when she clicked again, enlarging the photo further. Mary Jane’s face was hardly recognizable as anything other than a piece of meat. Her desk phone rang, making her jump half out of her skin. She grabbed it on the second ring.

“Worthington here,” she chirped into the receiver as she swiveled around, glancing at the darkened news room of the Daily Mirror.

“Chass?”

“Daddy?”

“What on earth are you doing up there at this hour?” Bartholomew Worthington bellowed.

“Working late,” Chass drawled, rolling her eyes.

“We stopped by your flat after dinner.”

“I’m not there,” Chass replied dryly.

“We can see that, darling. Your mum’s worried sick. She’s been thinking a lot about Tabitha. The anniversary is next week.”

Chass sighed as she clicked onto another victim’s remains. How long would she have to suffer because of her sister’s abduction fifteen years before? “Tell her I’m fine. Just working late.”

“On what? You’ve met your deadline.”

Chass thought of what to say while she read about the Whitechapel murders.

“Chass?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Did you get a lead on something?” her father asked, his concern quickly fading to interest. As senior editor of the Daily Mirror, Bartholomew Worthington was always looking for the next big story.

“Daddy, I think I’ve got something here. I’ll call you back in a bit,” Chass answered, hanging up abruptly. She knew her father would quiz her. She wanted all her facts straight before telling him about the new lead.

Chass glanced down at her notes. The ones she’d jotted down the night before. There were ink smears all over the darn thing. She’d been taking a bubble bath, after finally reaching a heavy deadline and calling it a night. The police scanner she kept on in her bedroom began chattering away just as she was about to fall back into the bubbles, wetting her long, black hair. She’d reached for the notebook on the window ledge with one slender leg, knocking it down with her big toe. She leaned forward, catching it before it fell in the water. She ignored her dripping hands as she unhooked the pen and began scribbling like mad. She strained to hear. That damn faucet, if it would stop that infernal dripping! She jammed her toe into the round hole. Warm water drizzled down her foot. Static sizzled and popped.

We have a 10-45.

More crackling and popping. Chass strained to hear. She knew a 10-45 was a fatality. In the Whitechapel Area. We need back up. He’s struck again.

Despite the warm water, Chass shivered. She jotted down Whitechapel and then turned back to the page before when she first received that strange call. She read her own inky scrawl. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. You work for the paper, don’t you, my lady?

Chass had cleared her throat, just waking up, answering the phone while half asleep that very morning. “Yes,” she’d mumbled.

This is Jack. Tell your boss I’m back in town.

The accent was thick cockney with a certain quality that Chass had never heard. The line went dead. Chass sat there, now fully awake, surrounded by satin pillows. The fan whirred above her, reminding her that she was indeed awake. She looked at the receiver wondering if she’d dreamt it and grabbed the phone in her sleep. She glanced at the caller I.D. It said unavailable. Great. That figured. How was she going to tell her boss who Jack was? He never left his last name. She’d scampered off the bed, straight to the bathroom, fetching her notebook. She immediately wrote down everything the caller had said, word for word.

* * * *

It was half past midnight when Vex walked through the solid oak doors of The Shamrock, a local Irish pub. A lively bunch crouched around the bar. Six men laughed raucously as Celtic music played in the background. One woman sat at the bar. Vex studied her back, steadying his retina on her spine, instantly scanning her inner DNA. Good, she was human. Female shifter-rapts were wild bitches, and he was in no mood tonight. A bloodsucker he could handle, but not a crafty shifter-rapt and definitely not in the female form. They were generally cleverer than their male counterparts, able to shift quicker and even hypnotize, a craft that only bloodsuckers possessed until around ten years ago. The gene pool was growing.

Vex sat down beside the woman. Her scent hardened him instantly. He shifted in his seat. She glanced over at him, eyeing him through the crook in her arm that held a stiff rum and coke. One silky lock of ebony hair fell over one large green eye. He smiled back.

Chass swirled her glass, chinking the ice. Butterflies skittered through her belly at the sight of the man next to her. She’d been frequenting this bar for years. She’d never run into a bloke like him. His size alone made her shudder and his smell. Bloody hell, the man smelled like fresh gingerbread. The pub owner, Ralph Finnegan, walked up to Vex.

“Whatcha ‘avin mister?”

“A baby giraffe,” Vex replied in a thick English accent, using the rhyming slang term for a half pint of draft beer.

Bloody great. Now it’d be impossible to question the pub owner with stud of the year sitting next to her. Ralph had contacted the paper, saying he needed to speak to someone in charge. Being the boss’s daughter usually got these calls forwarded her way, a most passive-aggressive move from other reporters who felt as if she didn’t have to prove herself to ‘Steely Bart’. This time it had worked in her favor.

Ralph turned to fetch the half pint of lager. Vex scanned his spine. Good. Another human. This was gonna be a piece of cake.

Ralph placed the foamy beer in front of Vex. It bubbled over the side and onto the shamrock napkin. Vex took a sip as Chass set down her empty glass.

“Buy you another, miss?” Vex asked, eyeing her, wondering what it was about this woman that called to him.

Hell, he’d half forgotten he was here on business. Jack would have to wait. Never had he met a human female as stunning as she. More often than not, a crafty shifter-rapt could mesmerize him with her beauty, but half of it was magic. Once her true form was really revealed, a hag lurked beneath, possibly hundreds of years old, made beautiful by ancient spells. Vex had no use for any of them. Their souls were blackened. They’d seen too much war, too much battle on Xurath.

He’d killed so many of them he’d lost count. Most of them were a detriment to society, as were the bloodsuckers, transients that frequented graveyards and alleyways. As long as their criminal record was clean and they contributed to society, he’d allow them to live. Many could be rehabilitated if they truly wanted to blend with humans and live a good life. It was Vex’s job to sort out the nasty and dispose of the vermin. There were only a handful of creatures like Vex and all of them were related to him. He was the oldest, coming nearly one hundred years before his younger brothers, Knight, Jett, Daze and Stone.

His parents had been dead for centuries. His father, Cole, a bloodsucker, had been leader of his clan. He had led the bloody battle back on Xurath, killing off one of the deadliest of shifter-rapt clans, except for one little shifter-rapt girl, Zephyria. Cole raised her, teaching her the ways of the bloodsucker before falling in love with her and marrying her. She had been saved from the life of the shifter-rapt, learning to live life in her natural form, which was one of uncommon beauty among her clan. She had been mistreated for it and would have surely been killed. Cole had heard stories of the fair shifter-rapt, wanting to see if she were real. Indeed she was, but the descriptions of her beauty paled in comparison to the real creature.

Their hybrid children were born with dual powers, possessing psychic, magical powers like those of the bloodsuckers as well as the elusive shifting powers of the shifter-rapts. But the one power that separated the hybrid species from all others was their ultra sensory powers. These creatures had the ability to scan the DNA of any creature on Earth. These powers were of great use to the authorities. All five brothers worked for various law enforcement agencies, depending upon their location. Two worked for the CIA and the FBI, back in the states, while two others did strictly contract work. Vex worked for the Metropolitan Police, formerly Scotland Yard.

The public knew of bloodsuckers and shifter-rapts, but most of them believed they were extinct. Of course, there were the usual interest groups, like ghost hunters who formed out of curiosity, searching for the beasts with infra-red equipment. Even a few shows had popped up on the tele, but none of them of any real consequence. Both species knew how to hide and blend into society and each of them did it exceedingly well. It was Vex’s job to find the dangerous ones and get rid of them. You couldn’t lock them up in the pen, like a regular criminal. They were far too powerful. A bloodsucker could hypnotize the whole joint, suck them dry and be out in a matter of hours. A shifter-rapt could just change shape and flee. Vex’s clan was well respected by the authorities and paid handsomely for their work.



Chass shrugged. What the hell? One drink won’t hurt. The stud was costing her a good interview. She had no intentions of asking him questions now and Ralph didn’t know she was coming. He’d given his address and phone numbers. She told him she’d be in touch.
“Thank you. I’d love one,” Chass answered, tilting her head sideways, smiling at the gorgeous stranger.

His crotch tightened further. Vex shifted in his seat. What was it about this woman? The bloodsucker in him kicked into high gear. He sniffed the air around her.

Christ, she’s a virgin! A super-fine bitch like her? No way!

Vex motioned to Ralph with one finger. “The lady wants another.”
Ralph nodded, turning to make another rum and coke. Chass fished around in her purse for a mirror and lip gloss. She smiled nervously at the man beside her. When she flipped the compact open, she saw two, round green eyes staring back at her. Her heart began to race. She caught him out of the corner of her eye, running a large hand through his long hair. She noticed the hue matched hers perfectly. She applied shiny, clear lip gloss at least three times before snapping her compact shut and turning to face her excitement. She stuck out her hand.

“Hi, I’m Chass.”

The man smiled back, nearly taking her breath away. He should smile more often. All of those perfectly straight, white teeth and that face. Bloody hell, I’m in trouble!

Vex slammed his mug down and took her hand in his.

“Vex, nice to meet you, miss.”

They stared at one another for a very long five seconds before releasing. Her dainty hands were so warm. She licked her already polished lips.

Damn! I can’t even look at this woman!

He shifted again, now unbearably uncomfortable. He hadn’t had a stiffie like this in ages.
Chass smiled up at him, tossing her silky, raven colored hair behind her. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Just passing by. My throat’s a bit dry,” Vex replied.

It was no lie. His throat was as dry as a summer breeze and her smell! He hadn’t met a virgin her age since ... well, never. She had to be at least twenty-five. Most virgins he ran into were fourteen at the oldest. Is she a damn nun or what? Nah, nuns don’t frequent bars. She smells bloody delicious! He didn’t know whether to suck her dry or just fuck her. Vex shook his head. He didn’t suck people anyhow, though any full blooded bloodsucker would have given it a go. He scanned the room, instantly detecting the DNA of all the men at the bar. Good. All of them were human. She’d be less at risk.

Where did this fluff come from? He wanted to walk her home. She shouldn’t be on the streets at this hour, especially someone as prime as herself. She was grade A. She’d make a tasty meal for any bloodsucker and there were more in London than anywhere else in Europe. Hell, Vex could see them fighting over this one. This was going to be a long night. He’d have to find a way to follow her home. Something about this woman made him want to protect her, and not just from bloodsuckers and shifter-rapts. From the whole damn world! All he could think of was taking her back to his flat and fucking her senseless. His hardness throbbed beneath his button-flies. Vex shifted again. Keep it up, bloke and she’ll think you have ants in your pants!

“You okay?” Chass asked, sipping her drink, eyeing him curiously.

“Just dandy,” Vex answered. Just dandy? Where the hell had that come from? Behave, bloke, she’ll think you’re a wanker.

Chass chuckled softly. She could tell when a man was attracted to her, and the thought of this particular man finding her pretty sent her mind whirling. She studied his fierce jaw line as he took a long drink of beer. His black sideburns were manicured perfectly, stopping just below the temple where she noticed a throbbing. My, he must be nervous. A single bead of sweat slid out of the sideburn, zigzagging into the rough stubble that lined the better part of his stern face. She wished he’d smile again. He looked much too serious and she liked the way one smile had sent her reeling.

He wore a button-up white shirt that was open at the collar. His tanned neck showed through. Chass wondered about his heritage. The sun had been hidden behind clouds for months now. It was autumn in London. She doubted it was a tan. He wore an ivory, beaded necklace, resembling Indian jewelry that reminded her of a piece her father had brought her back from the States. She’d never seen a man with hair so long. She wanted to ask him what hair products he used, but decided against it. Maybe later, if she ever got to know him ... but she doubted that would happen, either. She’d all but given up on men, deciding to concentrate on her career. Her last boyfriend left her because she refused to have sex with him. She was old fashioned. So what? She wanted to wait until she was married. Any man that didn’t understand that could just bugger off! The problem was that no men were willing to wait these days. She sighed at the thought.

“Shagged-out?” Vex asked.

Hell, he wasn’t. He was rearing to go. Damn, he wanted to shag this sexy skirt. He had about made up his mind that it must be a matter of morals. Why else would a woman as desirable as Chass remain a virgin? He liked her already. She had values, something he found lacking in every bloodsucker, shifter-rapt, and most humans.

“A tad,” Chass admitted. What’s the use? This man would never date her and if he did, surely he’d expect intercourse. Someone as good looking as Vex didn’t survive on bread and water alone. And it would seem a shame to deprive him. She was reconsidering her high moral ground when Ralph returned.

“Another round?”

Vex looked at Chass, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Sure,” she answered, feeling extra wicked and naughty for staying up on a school night as her mum would have said, partying on a working day of the week.

Ralph looked at Vex.

“Me, too,” Vex said.

He’d have twelve drinks if it meant sitting next to this dolly. Ralph left to refill their glasses.

“What do you do, Vex?” Chass asked, genuinely curious. What would someone that looked like him do for a living?

Vex rubbed his chin. A scratching sound came from the effort. Chass wanted to reach up and touch his rough cheek, but she didn’t dare. Damn, he was a looker.

“Pest control.”

Chass wrinkled her nose. An exterminator? Surely not. He could model undies for fuck’s sake! Vex saw the disbelief in her eyes and roared with laughter. Chass laughed with him.

“Honestly, how do you make ends meet?” she managed to ask between bubbles of laughter.

“I work for Scotland Yard.”

He didn’t want to lie to her and something told him they’d meet again. Scotland Yard was an old term. Londoners referred to the police as the Metropolitan Police nowadays, but of course Vex had been around forever.

Her face lit up. “You’re a bobby?” she asked. That made sense. She could believe he was a police officer.

“Absobloodylutely!” Vex replied.

He never tired of the expression of awe in a woman’s eyes when he mentioned that he worked for the police.

“How bloody wonderful!”

“Not so sure about all of that, but it pays my flat. What do you do?”

Ralph returned with the drinks. Chass waited until he was gone. She didn’t want him to hear where she worked. Not just yet. She was having too much fun.

“I’m a reporter at the Daily Mirror.”

“Really? Fascinating.”

Chass decided to let Vex in on the story. She wasn’t sure why, but with his connections to the Metropolitan Police, she figured he might have heard something as well. It was worth a try.

“It really is fascinating, Vex.”

Bloody hell! Say my name again, Chass! The sound of her voice, saying his name made his head swim. She was rambling on and on. He was watching her lips when he saw three words form over that lovely mouth of hers. Jack the Ripper. His ears pricked up at the first mention of it.

“Vex, have you caught wind of anything like that?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink, eyeballing him.

Vex cleared his throat. “Who told you about this?” Damn, O’Malley! Had he leaked the news already? He knew the old bobby was shagging the receptionist down at the Mirror. He’d have to have a stern word with him.

“Well, it’s the funniest thing, really. I have a police scanner and I listen to it while I take a bath.”

More shifting in the seat. Uncomfortable shifting at the mention of Chass taking a bath, naked and all.

“Did the bloody bobbies speak of it on the scanner?” Vex could hardly believe that. All of the police used special codes for that particular reason.

“No, of course not. I just put two and two together and came here,” Chass answered, wiggling her forefinger at Vex, motioning for him to come closer so she could whisper in his ear.

“See Ralph over there?”

Vex nodded. Every inch of his being was zoned in on her words and on Ralph at the end of the bar. “He called the Mirror and asked to speak to someone. I was the jammy sod! He told me he had run across a dead body the other night, in the Whitechapel district. Apparently, the police are keeping it hush-hush for the time being!”

Bloody Christ, she was at the pub for the very same reason!

“I think I may have a big story. And that’s not all. I got a strange call yesterday morning. Someone claiming to be Jack the Ripper himself! He said he had a message for my boss ….”

Vex didn’t let her finish. He threw down a wedge of bills and yanked her off the stool. “We need to get you to a safe place, my lady!”

“What are you barking about?” Chass exclaimed, now alarmed more than ever. He hoisted her up as if she were his woman.

“Safe place? I’ll go to my flat, sir!”

“Chass, I’ll explain later. Now, please, don’t make me bloody well beg you!”

Vex pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge. She’d seen enough to know it was real. She yanked her purse off of the bar.

“One sec,” Vex added before whistling at Ralph.

Ralph looked up and waved at him with a dish rag. He must have thought the man was saying good-bye. He turned to wipe the bar down. Vex whistled again.

“Hey, mate!”

Ralph looked up again, this time annoyed. “What is it, bugger?”

Vex walked back to the bar in two easy strides, Chass on his arm, dragging her along. He didn’t want to leave her for half a second. He flashed the man his badge. “Keep you bloody mouth shut about the crime, bloke! You hear?”

Ralph nodded frantically.

“And for fuck’s sake, don’t ring the Mirror again! This is a fragile investigation we have here! Don’t go jamming it up with your flim-flam! Put a bloody sock in it or I’ll haul you in myself for corrupting.”

“No sir, ay won’t!” Ralph promised.

Vex turned on his heel, pulling Chass alongside him. This was going to be a very long night indeed.

“Where are we going?” Chass asked as she struggled to keep up with Vex’s long stride. He was practically running.

Chass’s heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. She tripped and fell, ripping her stocking to shreds. “Bloody hell!” she cried. Vex cringed when he turned and found her in a heap, beneath a tall street lamp. An ugly red scrape covered her left knee. Vex scanned the street. He could smell a bloodsucker nearby and now the air was sweet with the smell of her. Crouching at her side, he ripped the sleeve from his arm and wrapped it around her wound.

“Vex! It’s just a scrape. I’ll be fine,” Chass protested.

He ignored her as he scanned the street. Three bloodsuckers where walking toward them. Vex could hear their teeth chattering inside their closed mouths in anticipation of the kill. No bloodsucker could resist virgin blood. He sensed movement from behind a van parked across the road. He sniffed. Shifter-rapts. Four of them. Shifter-rapts rarely attacked, feeding off of small birds and animals and never humans, unless they were pure and by the looks of the entourage closing in on them, Chass was as pure as they came. There was going to be a war over her blood. Seven vile creatures left over from Xurath. Vex had his work cut out for him, especially now. Not only would he have to kill them all, he’d have to keep them from killing Chass in the process. Damn, I don’t want to shift now! I’ll shock her half to death!

Vex had no choice. He picked Chass up into his arms and carried her a few feet away, to the darkened awning of a closed book store. He sat her in the corner.

“Close your eyes. Wait for me here,” Vex ordered.

“Close my bloody eyes? Are you mental?” Chass asked, struggling to stand. “Someone’s coming,” she replied as two shifter-rapts walked into the shadows of the awning.

Vex shook her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Chass! They’re after you! You have to trust me. Now close your eyes!”

Chass could see two long shadows fall on Vex’s back as he shielded her from the thirsty pair. Now Chass could hear a clinking noise. She wondered about the sound as she shut her eyes tight, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around her legs. She had no other choice than to believe Vex. She knew something terrible was about to happen, she just didn’t know what. Did he say they were after her? Bloody hell!

Vex shifted into the largest creature he could think of in two seconds flat. He had seconds to spare and it was the first thing that had popped into his head. It had taken hundreds of years to speed up his shifting ability. Chass heard a roar like nothing she’d heard in any zoo, ever. She shut her eyes tighter. Her body shook as adrenaline poured through her veins. Keep them closed, Chass, keep them closed! She knew Vex had told her to close her eyes for a reason and she tried her best, but now there were screams, like a woman gone mad. No, it sounded more like a bobcat. She’d heard them at the zoo and their screams sounded very much like a woman’s, but on the streets of London? She covered her face with her hands. Behind her hands, she opened her eyes, seeing only the blackness of her palms against her face. Slowly, she spread two fingers apart. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw next.

Chass screamed, unable to control her hysteria. A seven-foot grizzly bear stood only a few feet away. She watched in horror as he lumbered toward a group of men approaching. The fat on his large behind swayed beneath the tiny nub of a tail. He lunged forward. His hind claws scratched on the pavement as he swiped at the first man to dare him. The man screamed, but it didn’t sound like a man. That was the same scream she’d heard before. Chass craned her neck around the giant bear and blinked her eyes. The man turned into a leopard in mid-air, struck a van parked across the road and disintegrated. Another man walked forward. Chass was amazed he’d walk up to the bear, after seeing what happened to his friend. Again the bear lunged forward with a deafening growl, slapping the man with a giant paw. Chass watched as the man’s head flew clean off. His remains quickly turned into a headless bird. Chass guessed it was a vulture, but she couldn’t be sure. And then he was gone, disappeared into thin air.

Two men closed in on the sides of the bear, all of them making that eerie clinking sound that Chass had heard before. Chass screamed again and this time the bear turned, growling right at her, his giant maw wide open, saliva flowing along the sides of it. His eyes glittered with rage. Chass clasped both hands on her mouth and just sat there, wanting to die as her bones shook uncontrollably. She kept her eyes open, unable to shut them, not because she didn’t try, but because she couldn’t. She was frozen, except for the shaking. The bear turned back around to face the two men who were only a mere foot away. Chass watched as the men vanished. Suddenly two bats flew on either side of the bear, coming straight for her. Chass pushed herself into the hard brick wall of the store, scraping her back. She heard her shirt rip and then the bats were on her. Both of them, flapping against her face, chattering like mad squirrels, their eyes, four steely balls of bright blue. She swatted them and screamed, flailing like crazy. She kicked and slapped at the little buggers, but they just kept coming.

A giant shadow loomed over her, thrusting her into total blackness. She screamed, thinking she was near death. In the dark, the bear plucked the bats out of mid air, stopping them from clawing up her face further. He hurled one of them against the brick wall and the other on the ground before stomping it like a cockroach. Both of them disappeared instantly. Chass knew he would kill her next, but she was frozen again. She stared up at him in the darkness. Her eyes had adjusted further. The bear cocked his head to the side and stared at her. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. She prepared herself for death. It was true. Her entire life passed through her mind’s eye, like a movie in fast forward. She saw herself as a little girl, swimming with her parents on holiday. Each birthday ticked off, one by one, like a car passing a wooden fence, each post a year of her life. She watched herself grow, go to school, graduate, go to work and to her surprise, the bear sniffed the air around her, grunted and turned.

She watched him shift his great weight as he walked toward the sidewalk and then stop and sniff again. Suddenly he ran into the deserted street and pulled the door off the van parked across the road. He pulled two men out, one by one, as if they were dolls. Each of them changed instantly. One of them into an owl and the other into a tiger. He caught the owl by the feet before it could fly away. He tossed it into another car, busting the windshield. It vanished. The tiger reared up on its hind legs, challenging the bear. Chass watched as a police car raced to the scene, coming to a screeching halt a few feet from the animals, illuminating them with headlights. The tiger hissed at the blinding light. The bear took advantage of the tiger’s temporary blindness, lunging forward, slashing its throat with one long swipe. The tiger looked stunned, shutting its jaw and dropping to the pavement where it took two steps and then faded away.

O’Malley stayed in the car, waiting for Vex to change back. The grizzly turned to check on Chass, but she was gone. He sniffed the air and roared. The roar echoed off of the buildings. He returned to all fours, running at amazing speed for a creature his size, down the London streets, looking for Chass. He heard her scream and found her down an alley. A bloodsucker had her on top of a dumpster. She was lying over the beast’s shoulder, looking limp and half dead.

Bloody hell! Chass! Chass!

The grizzly jumped to the top of the dumpster, snatching Chass back, tossing her over his furry shoulder. The bloodsucker laughed, throwing his head back, showing off his fangs and when he did, the grizzly tore at his throat with one giant bite. The bloodsucker melted beneath him, like airy candle wax that blew into the brisk autumn wind.

The bear leapt off of the dumpster, carrying Chass over to the light of a nearby lamp. He sniffed and examined her neck. She was clean of bites. He placed his furry head on her chest. Her heart was fluttering inside, still strong, but in shock. She had fainted and for good reason. He took two steps forward, out of the alleyway. When he emerged, the bear was Vex. O’Malley stepped out of his car and came running.

“Is she okay?”

“Yes. Just passed out cold. I told her not to look.”

O’Malley chuckled. “Do women ever listen?”

Buy Link

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Wicked Halloween Contest!!!


Wicked Halloween Contest!!!!

Write a scary scene starting with this...

Ravenwood lit the torch and walked inside the barn. A lonely owl hooted from the rafters, ruffling its feathers, blinking. She saw the flame reflected in her golden eyes and then watched a shadow move along the rotted wood pile. A mouse scurried out, squeaking, carrying a piece of hay in her mouth. The shadow grew, blacking out the flickering light. She gasped, torch smoke billowed over her hooded head. With one shaking hand, she reached for the crucifix around her neck. The shadow crossed the pitchfork, fell upon the coffin and then...

Finish this scene...the scariest scene wins a Halloween prize...a mix of scary books, tricks and treats and their story featured on my site at Alisha Paige!

Mail your entries to alishapaigewilson@yahoo.com with Wicked Halloween Contest in the title. Deadline is October 30th.

Winner announced on All Hallow's Eve! (That's Halloween for those of you stuck in this century.)

~Good Luck and may the best ghoul win!
Alisha Paige