Friday, May 18, 2012

Voodoo Moon has RISEN! Interracial Lovin'!

I'm excited to announce the release of Voodoo Moon, my Multi-Cultural Gothic Ghost romance! I've included the book's NOTE TO THE READER and an excerpt from the first chapter! If you like what you read, you can purchase Voodoo Moon for only .99 at Amazon and Barnes and Noble! The links are to the right of this blog post. Have a beautiful weekend, my friends! ~Alisha


Dear Reader,

Voodoo Moon is based on the true life historic mansion, Rose Hall in Montego Bay, Jamaica where Annie Palmer killed three of her husbands and ordered her male slaves to her bed chambers. Annie was taught Haitian voodoo as a child by her black nanny and was said to be a powerful voodoo witch. A slave called to the White Witch’s chambers was a death warrant. After visiting Rose Hall, I was inspired to write a romance depicting the horror and terror of the infamous plantation. I still remember standing in Annie Palmer’s red bedroom, thinking of the poor black men who were forced to lie with her, thereby signing their death warrants.
Annie Palmer was killed in a slave uprising and is buried in an above ground tomb on the plantation where it is said her soul cannot escape to torture again. However, her ghost still roams the great rooms of Rose Hall. If you ever travel to Montego Bay, I encourage you to pay a visit to the White Witch’s former home.
I hope you enjoy Voodoo Moon. I write for YOU.

Spread love,
Alisha Paige

First Chapter R RATED Excerpt ~ 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 will-a kill me if I don’.”
Daisy shook her head fiercely; sobbing, crying out against what she could not stop. “She will-a 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 cannaw 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 will-a lose ya.”
“I’ll find a way out-a dis.”
“How?” she whispered, touching his face where the candle light cast 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 cannaw fight her without ya. Tink of us. Tink of our love! We cannaw 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. 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 will-a bind ya to her forevuh! Ya will-a 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, stopping on her thigh as he bent to kiss her, long and slow. He tasted her tears as they dripped onto her mouth. 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 found her rump, kneading it. She gasped when he caressed her, calming her fears with rough, calloused palms. He gathered her heavy, brown breasts, fondling them until she panted with desire, begging him with long, wet kisses full of breathy need.
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 had 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 of 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. He sucked in a ragged breath. 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 moaned, 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 flushed cheeks as he moved inside of her. Neither of them wanted to lose one second with the other. She thrashed beneath him, reaching, locking her arms over his shoulders; aching, longing for their night to never end. He wanted to savor the moment. They both did. He shuddered, cried out against the fight to hold on as 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. “Do naw cry, my sweet.” Then he took her breast in his mouth; licking, sucking, teasing her tender, taut nipple with his tongue, watching her face, loving the perfect ‘O’ formed by wet, luscious lips now swollen like fresh bee stings. She cried out, hardening him further. Her hands held his smooth, bald head now glistening with sweat. With one bulging arm, he rolled her onto him.


Charmaine said...

Who does your book covers? The piece above is pretty intriguing. Like the accents. Are you from Jamaica?

Alisha said...

Hello, Charmaine! So nice of you to stop by. Voodoo Moon's cover was designed by Erin Dameron-Hill. Her website is to the right of this blog post. Just click on the graphic and you're there! No, I'm not Jamaican. I was born in Texas but I've visited Jamaica and fell in love with the island, the people and their lovely accents. Voodoo Moon was fun to research, particularly voodoo which I knew nothing about before writing the book.