EMERGENCY: READ IF YOU LIVE IN NY CITY

This is my last ditch effort. Is there anyone close to New York? I will pay you
whatever. I was on a tight deadline to enter the Delacorte Yealing Contest.
Today was the deadline to have it postmarked by June 30th. I finished and
polished everything by 8 am and my printer died. I went to my mom's house, my
friend's house. I tried to email my documents, plug my laptop into their
printers but nothing was compatible or I'm just too stupid to figure it out. Now
the post office is closed and I don't think they accept Fed Ex so my hopes are
dwindling. And of course they won't take electronic submissions.

Is there any kind soul out there willing to print my cover letter and manuscript
(98 pages) Middle Grade novel and hand deliver it to their offices tomorrow? I
thought I'd give it a shot and ask to see if anyone is close. I will be your
slave for life. Email me if you think you can help at
alishapaigewilson@yahoo.com

Here is the office address:

Delacorte Yearling Contest
Random House, Inc.
1745 Broadway, 9th Floor
New York, NY 10019


Alisha Paige

Covers for Voodoo Moon and Uncaged!

Check out my new covers and send me your thoughts!

Love to all,
~Alisha

Erotic Teaser from Uncaged!

I'm thrilled to be a part of The Brood Series coming soon to NCP. Here's an excerpt from Uncaged. Send me your thoughts.

Blurb
When an African lion wakes up on board a ship bound for London in 1772, he has no choice but to shift into the very creature that has captured and caged him in order to free himself. Fifteen years have passed since the lion has called himself by his given name, Bruce Remington. Time enough to forget life as a man, but when Bruce meets the captain’s daughter, Wren Whittier, a lovely quadroon, the scent of a woman comes flooding back to him.

Once back in London, Bruce settles back into the shape shifter community, intent on reclaiming his life as a man and making Wren his wife. When the captain falls ill and dies, Wren is captured by a lynch mob and held prisoner by a small town of superstitious country folk on charges of witchcraft, though witch trials are a thing of the past. Bruce gathers every available London shape shifter and goes in search of the woman he loves. Will the heart of the lion, the very heart that binds them together be strong enough to free her before she’s burned at the stake?

Excerpt
Bruce fell asleep, hidden between two hefty crates near the northern deck, where the shadows grew longer and blacker. He even managed to steal a loaf of bread and some ale. The first time in ages since he had eaten something other than raw meat. The alcohol quickly took effect, lulling him into a deep sleep, but something roused him, something delicate and enticing.
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with thick thumbs. The black night sky was scattered with millions of twinkling stars. He sniffed and then smiled. The woman was near. Her scent wafted through the sea air like honeysuckle dancing on the wind. She stood overlooking the bow of the ship. Her skirt whipped around her dainty ankles. She was barefoot. Never had Bruce known a naked pair of feet to look so erotic. A deep throated growl emanated from within. He shook his head in an effort to yield the wild creature within. Luckily the wind masked the noise. Rising and stretching, he made his way to her side, stomping across deck to alert her of his coming. He didn’t want to startle her and cause her to cry out. She turned when she heard him approach, greeting him with a half smile, her lips curved on one side.
“Good evening, sir,” she said, turning to face him fully.
His eye caught the gleam of a topaz pendant, nestled between her full breasts. His cock stiffened at the sight, pushing against his newly acquired breeches. Breeches that suited his size perfectly, until now. He took her hand and kissed it. The scent of her burnished skin drove him mad with desire. He shut his eyes.
“Out for another smoke, sir?”
“Aye. I couldn’t sleep. Are you feeling better today, miss?”
“A bit. Thanks to you for inquiring,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Father is in a tizzy. All the fuss about the caged beast never setting sail with us.”
Bruce smiled. A sweaty lock of his long, blond hair fluttered against his sun burnt forehead. He worked on deck all day, pretending to be a crewmate. He even helped repair a torn sail. No one had been the wiser.
Bruce grunted. “Don’t see how a beast that size could be carried off without notice. Sounds an oddity for certain.”
“Father says the slaves must have taken him back off the ship the night before we set sail.”
“Does he really think they went to all that trouble and then carried an empty cage back on board?”
“Aye, sir. A lion will fetch a pretty price. He’d make a fine attraction at the fair, bringing in loads of money. The slaves most likely took him back to their master while the cat was still full of sleeping potion. There was never no need to carry back an empty cage. Now the master can sell him for whatever price he wants. According to Father, they tracked that particular beast for weeks before catching him.”
Bruce doubted that. He’d have sensed the men or at least caught a whiff of their scent. He’d been taken totally by surprise. “Seems particularly cruel to me,” he added.
“Aye. To me too, sir. Reminds me of my mother. She’s no different from the lion. She’s been captured, bought and sold again. Cruel, indeed.”
Wren looked up at him, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “Why did you say you were in Africa?”
Bruce cleared his throat. “I didn’t.” He could think of nothing other than the slave trade and then the perfect answer came to him like a flash of lightning. “I’m with the House of Lords.”
Wren wrinkled her nose. “A solicitor? Surely you jest, sir. You look nothing of the sort.”
Bruce was insulted. “I don’t look smart enough?”
“You seem highly intelligent, sir. It’s just that . . .”
Bruce cut her off. “What then?”
Even with her dark coloring, Bruce saw her blush.
“You just seem altogether too much man for such a job. You’re so virile. You seem more suited for the outdoors. I find it altogether impossible to picture you seated behind a desk, scribbling down law onto paper.”
She fancies me, then?
Bruce stuck his chest out. So, the lady found him attractive, handsome perhaps. This he could go with.
“I’ll have you know, miss, I am an astute member of Parliament. There’s much talk of abolishing slavery. I’ve come to investigate the matter further and take my vantage point back to my fellow solicitors.” When he’d lived in London, there had been much debate on the issue.
Wren nodded. “Forgive me, sir. I didn’t intend to insult you.”
“You’re forgiven. It was an honest mistake and besides, what man doesn’t like to be considered virile by a woman such as yourself?”
Wren dipped her head into the shadow of his looming chest. He was afraid he had embarrassed her or perhaps she didn’t believe him. With one finger, he tipped her chin up. “You think I only flatter you?”
Wren frowned. “My father is a terrible man. What is it you want to know? I care not for his love. He cares not for mine.”
Bruce stared at her before speaking. She was so lovely, so honest. It made his heart ache to see her living with such a man. “I know enough of your father, Wren.” He watched her face in the moonlight, sensing her distrust. “I want to know you.”
Wren smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “Why? I am only the captain’s blackamoor.”
Bruce touched her cheek with the back of his hand and shook his head. “No, Wren. You are the loveliest creature I’ve ever seen. I’m quite smitten with you.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t come out here for a smoke?”
Bruce laughed. “You would be correct.”
“You came to see me? To speak with me?”
He nodded. “Aye. I fancy your company.”
“You do?”
Bruce nodded again. He took one of her hands, holding it between both of his. Closing his eyes he sighed.
“Perhaps you’ve been in Africa too long.”
He grunted. “Much too long.” His eyes snapped open. “May I kiss you?”
Wren’s mouth fell open. He licked his lips, never taking his eyes off hers, beseeching her. Wren smiled. “You may.” She closed her eyes and waited.
Bruce watched her heavily lashed lids flutter shut. He sensed a small amount of fear. He could smell it, but she wasn’t frightened of him. It wasn’t adrenaline he caught a whiff of in the night wind. It was pure lust. Unhinged, full frontal arousal from a woman of her quality. His cock poked and throbbed against his stiff breeches as his hands took possession of her face. She gasped. Her eye lids fluttered open and then shut again. Her lips parted. He moved closer, feeling her sweet breath on his wet lips, drying them with her heat. He kissed her. The sensation rocked him, spiraling down into his belly and into his legs, making every hair stand on end. His tongue probed her delicate mouth. She moaned softly, opening for him. She stuck her tiny tongue into his mouth, unleashing a growl. She yelped against him.
He pulled her to him, molding his mouth to hers, slanting their kiss, sucking on her tongue. She moaned deeper, bewitching him with seductive, slow kisses that heated him from within, sending shivers along his neck and spine. Bruce groaned when she moved closer to him, molding her body to his. He felt the pulsing beneath his breeches. Bruce steadied himself. It’d been forever since he’d seduced a woman. He’d half forgotten. Instinct told him to turn her around and enter her from behind. It took all his powers, from both gene pools to reign the beast that yearned to buck the beauty he held in his arms. He really intended to kiss her only once. He had no idea she’d feel this glorious, this soft, this needy. Bruce shook. He wanted to shift but didn’t know why. He certainly couldn’t bed her while in cat form.
She palmed his chest, fingering the tiny buttons of his shirt. She found his nipples and rubbed them with the heels of her hand. Bruce sucked in a heated breath. She pinched them. He pushed her hands aside and yanked the shirt open. She dragged her mouth away from his, trailing kisses across his jaw, down his neck, past the pulse throbbing in his throat.
She tongued his nipples. He watched her. Watched as her pink tongue flicked and licked at the swollen nubs. Goose bumps rose on his chest. His cock swelled when she bit him and suckled with a hunger he had forgotten existed. She moaned softly as if she were enjoying her delicacy. He clutched her silken hair and pulled her face to his, kissing her fiercely, his tongue diving, tasting. Their teeth clinked when he slanted his mouth to hers, wanting more closeness, more togetherness with a woman he’d only met one day before. Blinding lust rushed through his veins, blacking out all reason.
The wind picked up. The sails above them flapped in the breeze while salty waves slapped over the deck, spraying them, cooling their heated skin. Bruce swept her off her feet and pulled her onto his lap where he positioned himself over a large crate covered by a tattered sail. Her ass perched atop him. He unleashed a growl before burying his face in her cleavage. The jewel embedded between her breasts was hot against his lips as he nibbled and sucked around it. Wren arched her back, tossing her head into the wind, letting it blow her tresses behind her.
Bruce freed her breasts. Full, dark mounds filled his hands and mouth as he took one nipple in his mouth, sucking fiercely. Wren cried out, her passionate song mingled with the howling wind. A tall wave leapt over the side of the boat, soaking them both. Wren screamed in surprise and then laughed out loud. Bruce only growled at the sight of the half naked, wet lady in his arms.
He pushed her to the edge of his lap, unlaced his breeches and pulled her back to him. A mischievous grin curled around her delicate face, awash with passion and desperate need. Bruce’s heart went out to her. He lifted her skirts, grabbed her waist and lowered her onto him in one swift move. Wren gasped. Another wave of water tumbled over them as he sliced into her again and again. She molded herself to him, humming, licking her lips. Bruce loved the way his cock fit into her, so snug, so tight and so bold. She rode him while the ship rocked and swayed, a beautiful melody of wood creaking, waves splashing and Bruce grunting. She wrapped her legs around him tighter, gripping the mast that he leaned upon. With her arms over her head he had full access to her wet, heavy, swaying breasts as they slapped at his chest and face, only making him drive into her with more passion, more force than he thought was possible.
He felt the first tremors of release cinch around his swollen cock. Two more thrusts into her velvety smoothness and he’d lost himself, spilling into her his seed, his unleashed desire and his loyalty. Wren’s body rocked just as his began to still. She cried out into the night. He held her closer as the glorious spasms of quenched passion shot through her. Her necklace slapped his cheek as she rode him to the highest point of her release and then she collapsed onto him. Long, dark tendrils clung to her face and breasts. He peeled them off one by one as her breathing returned to normal. She sighed as he kissed her shoulder and pulled her to him. Even the ship found calmer waters as they clung to one another, two strangers no more.

Voodoo Moon Teaser!

Happy Tuesday to all my beautiful friends! Here's the first couple of pages of my novella, Voodoo Moon, soon to be released from New Concepts Publishing in The Brood series.

Send me your thoughts.

Voodoo Moon

1825 - Montego Bay, Jamaica - Rose Hall Plantation

Talin held his secret bride as she wept. Warm, wet tears moistened his chest as she wailed into him, begging him not to go.
“Shh, my love. I must. She willa kill me if I don’,”
Daisy shook her head fiercely, sobbing, crying out against what she could not stop. “She willa kill ya if ya go!”
“Der is no otter way round it! I will cahnvince her to let me live.”
Daisy shrieked at his meaning. “By bein’ a lover she cannah part wit?”
Talin picked her up and carried her to the bed like a sick child. He sat down and rocked her, speaking softly into her ear. Her sobs subsided. Her shaking slowed. She sniffed and took a shuddering breath before speaking. “I willa lose ya.”
“I’ll find a way outta dis.”
“How?” she whispered, touching his face where the candle light made a flickering shadow. “We are slaves! Nahtin mo. Tis only a month since she kilt her lahst lover and now she’s ahskin for ya.”
“I wohn’t allow her to kill me, Daisy,” he said sweeping two kisses onto her forehead. “I’ll keep her ’appy and come home to ya at first light.”
Daisy groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “But for how long? What if she finds out ’bout our secret weddin‘? She’ll ’ave us both kilt!”
“Ya ’ave to trust me! Trust the magick!”
“No! You vowed to stay away from black magick! You promised nah mo voodoo!”
“Tat was befo I knew I’d be forced to lay with the White Witch. It’s the only way ta fight her. If I keep her happy, I stay alive. But you ’ave to trust me and ya ’ave to help me.”
“How?” Daisy asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve, looking past the chiseled chin that formed a shadow on her face.
“The voodoo will be mo powerful if ya perform the spells whi we’re lovin’ one anuther.”
“Ya and the White Witch? Ahhhhhhh! I can’t, Talin! To think of ya with her…”
“Stop it, Daisy! Do ya want to help or not? I canna fight her without ya. Tink of us. Tink of our love! We canna beat her without the utter.”
A tear slid down her smooth cheek. She nodded slowly, kissed his chest and forced a smile. “Teach me.”
“On the morrow. Nah I have the parchment paper with our names written in chicken’s blood. I’ll ’ide it and the peacock fedder unduh our pillow.”
“But the spell willa bind ya to her forevuh! Ya willa forget our love!”
“No! I’m stronger than the magick!”
“How do ya nawh?” she wailed as tears streamed down her face.
“I nawh. Ya nawh, my sweet.”
His large, brown hand moved over her leg, warming her. He stopped at her thigh and bent to kiss her, long and slow. He tasted her tears. Lips so soft, so full, so eager. She sighed into him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck. He groaned, sliding his hand over her smooth skin, finding her wetness, cupping her. She moaned as he touched her. His other hand cupped her ass, kneading it. She gasped when he held her breasts. Rough palms formed around perfect round softness. The image of seeing her for the first time, in shackles, scared and trembling, a new slave for the big house-flashed through his mind. He’d loved her the second he’d seen her, scared and alone. They’d grown up on the plantation and fallen deeply in love with one another. Now here they were, making love on the eve on his laying with the White Witch.
Talin rolled her onto the bed and pushed up her gown, exposing all of her. The sight of her in the candle glow brought tears to his eyes. This would be their final night together. He stood, stripped down to nothing and lay beside her, taking her face in his hands, kissing her lips, tasting her tears, breathing her in, memorizing the moment. He would need it later in order to survive nights upon nights with his master.
She arched her neck, letting him mark her one final time. With dark, urgent passion, he sucked her long, brown neck as she panted, loving it. Her nails dug into his back when he entered her. Their eyes locked, his fierce, holding on; hers wet, pleading, loving. Tears trickled down her face as he moved inside of her. She watched him watching her as she fought to keep her eyes open. Open for him. Neither of them wanted to lose one second of connection with the other. She thrashed beneath him, reaching, locking her arms over his shoulders, aching, longing for their night to never end. Another big thrust and he held himself within her, his breathing ragged, gazing down at the love of his life.
“Oh, Talin, my love,“ she whispered, smiling through her tears.
He bent to kiss them all away. “Don’t cry, my sweet.“ Then took her breast in his mouth, licking, sucking, teasing her nipple with his tongue, still watching the passion as it crossed her face. She cried out. Her hands held his smooth, bald head now glistening with sweat. With one bulging arm, he rolled her onto her back.
“Mmmm…” she hummed, moving on top of him.
They were fluid. One. Sweaty, smiling, loving one another and the closeness they’d both shared for years. Years spent in chains during the day. She worked as a house maid while he worked the cane fields. Though many house slaves of the day walked about freely, the White Witch would not allow it. All of her property were in chains until nightfall when they were allowed to go to their shanty homes behind the cane fields. One room shacks made from straw and palm leaves. It was here that Talin and Daisy felt free. Free like the warm Carribean that roared behind them, rolling in and out. Tonight the winds blew harder as the ocean rushed onto the white sands. The straw door beat against it’s frame. The candle flickered, dancing shadows onto locked hands, loving one another long into the Jamaican night.
“My wife…I love ya.”
Daisy cried out, arching her back, leaning into the pleasure shooting into her, blazing like warm streaks of brightest sunshine, smooth yet bright. Caressing her, soothing her pain. Horror lay ahead for them both. Dark, black magick. Ancient Haitian voodoo. Evil stirred around them. Talin growled, on edge, pulling her to him, devouring her lips with his, biting, kissing, drawing her tongue into his mouth, grabbing her hair into his fist. “Daisy!”
The door slammed open and shut, open and shut. Salty air blew into the room, blowing out the candle. A thin, gray line of smoke curled over their heads. Talin sat up, kissing her, palming both breasts with his hands, thumbing her nipples. She bit his lip. Drew blood. Tasting it with his kiss as they danced together. He inside of her, twirling, swirling, staring into each other’s souls; beyond the eyes, beyond the heartbeat, beyond their spiritual connection, reaching for what would hold them steady, bind them together, unbroken and pure.
The darkness of both their lives soared before them. Flat out and full speed ahead as a tropical storm blew onto the island, foreshadowing wicked things to come. Blackest dread filled their hearts as they cried out, shouting against the wind, filling each other with a love like no other. A love borne of survival, among their people, among the warm Jamaican winds that soothed their dark skin and sad hearts in a time that needed hope and something worth living for.

www.alishapaige.com