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Don't miss out on Preyfinders, a sexy, space-opera, fantasy series. Grab the first book, Precious Sacrifice, for free AND... Pick up Book 2, Intimidator, for the reduced price of $2.99 (was $3.99)  Book #3, PREYFINDERS His lips curled. “Do I frighten you?” His hands squeezed in, until her shoulder muscles twinged with pain. “Speak the truth.” What did they say to do when facing an aggressive lion? Retreat slowly while maintaining eye contact? She didn’t have any choice. The Ascend had pinned her with his gaze like a butterfly collector with a new specimen, and retreating wasn’t an option. “Answer.” He shook her. When she remained mute, he shifted his grasp to beneath her arms and lifted her onto the stone seat. Done as easily as a man might lift a kitten. Being elevated didn’t help... Though they were eye to eye, it made her feel like a slave girl on a block being auctioned off with Dassenze a potential buyer. Her mind was dredging up all the dirty sexual connotations it could find. No wonder, with this massive specimen of alien man-god before her. Plus, his hands had slid down to her waist and were holding her there, firmly. It was a definite panty-wetting situation. Was she a kick-ass forensic pathologist or a slave girl? Dammit, feminism. The two were surely impossibly opposite? She heard Brask chuckle. The bastard. What was the question? Was she scared? Answering Dassenze honestly was somehow a must. “A little?” “Good. Remember that before you try to kiss me. I may change my mind and do... What was that human word?” Though he paused, she was sure it was just to prolong the torture. “I may fuck you anyway.” Then he winked and released her shoulders. Our Earth is on the edge of destruction, our cities are pocked with missile craters, and beneath the surface the alien factory queen lurks.
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Here it is, the cover of my next book, Intimidator, the second book in the Preyfinders series NA Scifi Romance with some kinky capture fantasy on the side Releasing May 7th This series is set mostly in current day Australia The first story in this series is in the Kept anthology Willow has her hands full scraping out a life in a grungy neighborhood where drugs and crime are the norm. Life is hard, but it’s about to get harder. Being transformed into a sexual pet for an alien warrior may be her only way out. 
Some of you may have read my free novella, Cataclysm Blues. I always intended to turn this into a full story and in fact I plan a trilogy. The demon-stitched are coming, along with Sheriff Rose and Talon. I'm pretty sure the ending of the novella will have to change for it to become the beginning of the first novel. If you haven't read this book and would like to, go here where I show the links. Possibly Amazon may have reverted to making it 99c in the USA. I'm at the planning stage and about to start writing. As soon as I do the last edits on Intimidator, I'll be typing away. Very excited to finally be getting this one moving! As sheriff of Rusted Rattlesnake, Rose is used to being on top. Until the day she meets Talon, a bad-ass drifter on a motorcycle who shows her that being on the bottom can be loads of fun. 
Yes, I have done the deed and sent the book away to my formatter guy, Donnie Light. I'm praying that all the t's are dotted and the i's are crossed. Because that would make for an interesting book... Release date will be December 23rd. I hope I've not gone too dark for any of my fans. Make me Yours Evermore has been labelled a BDSM dubcon thriller by my editor, Nerine Dorman. The next book after this has a more moralistic hero, I think. Though I am dropping him into a terribly nasty situation. Just for a cute bit of info - my cover artist has not been capitalizing the me in any of the titles and I only just noticed. I'm so observant! I think he's acknowledging the Dominance and submission theme in this series. Clever man. He's Thomas Dorman or Dr Benway on deviant art if anyone is looking for a book cover by him. Fetish photographer and award winning South African filmmaker. However, ahem, back to this book. A snippet might be due? Oh and if you want to join my mailing list and get a little newsletter whenever a new book comes out, go here. Because I'm never sure if anyone out there sees the small amount of promo I do, if you really want to keep in touch with what I'm writing, that's the best method to be certain of getting updates. Here is the little extract from Make Me Yours Evermore... 
The water might be cold but she was warm against my skin. I couldn’t help admiring her curves as I smoothed away the grime of all that had happened to her over the last day. A few times she stirred and pushed at my hand but I persisted. Her skin was pale, accentuating the red of her bra and black of her panties – color coded scraps of cloth that screamed sexual territory. All the best bits were underneath those. Her lips were plump with the promise of kisses. Long legs, female contours...  I already announced this on Facebook But I need something to do while I'm waiting for feedback so I don't chew off my fingernails. The release date of Make Me Yours Evermore, Book 3 Pierced Hearts - December 23 rd - is getting ever closer. I can also tell you here that I've altered my blurb for this series on Amazon to make sure people understand what they're buying. Here's the added bit: Be aware that this Pierced Hearts series is not a consensual BDSM series, this is a capture fantasy series that explores morality, consensuality, and the fuzzy zone between right and wrong. It has been called dangerous erotic fiction. And just so as to reward those who come to read this , seeing I'm the least frequent blog poster EVER, here's a little snippet from the book. From the Point of View of Andreas...  I swallowed, struck for a microcosm of time by the allure of indeed owning her. “Chris, she’s not yours.” “She is now. She’s mine.” God, I hated him. Gently, I stamped my fist on the table. “You can’t own a person. Not in this time and age.” “You have no idea. Slaves are a reality as much as they’ve ever been in history. It’s just a matter of beating the law. I told you before. Turn me in, or leave me be. This is something I want. I mean to have her.” He sat back in the chair and contemplated Kat. “You’re right though. I can’t justify this. What my friend did, yeah, he had some justification. Me? Put me back in history at Rome and I could be a rich man with a troupe of slave girls or maybe a sheik with a harem. Legal, even the pinnacle of society. Here, now?” His eyes shone dark in the dying light. “I’m just bad man with good sense of timing.” His blatant admission stunned me for a few seconds. “A good sense of timing? Why the hell is this good?” “She was going on holidays. Driving to the Outback. No one will miss her for a few days until the phone calls don’t come in.” “Jesus,” I whispered. He had planned this. This wasn’t some distorted retribution. This was Chris being fucked up in the head.  The earlier books are on Amazon. All Romance eBooks iTunes Kobo and Barnes and Noble and Smashwords. Most of those links are on the books' pages here on my website.
Book 1, Take Me, Break Me Book 2, Bind and Keep Me Adults Only Excerpt - 18 years plus From The Dom with a Safeword - a contemporary BDSM M/f/f menage. I'm co-writing this book with Leia Shaw and Sorcha Black. I'm writing the Dom, Jude. Leia is writing the innocent submissive, Sabrina, who is new to both BDSM and girl on girl. And Sorcha Black is writing the bisexual switch Q, who hates her real name and rarely tells it. Here's the blurb if you want a bit of an idea about what's going on. Late at night, on an amateur ghost hunt, Sabrina and her best friend Q are caught trespassing by the gorgeous, blond Jude. The embers of attraction between them sizzle when they discover Jude’s kinks match their own. Jude is a Dom on his last summer of freedom before starting the prison sentence that is med school. Q is a badass bi switch who knows what she wants, and for years it’s been her cute, doe-eyed straight friend Sabrina. But the only way for Q into Sabrina’s heart and panties may be with Jude’s fist wrapped in her hair. Domming the bratty Q and mischievous Sabrina isn’t going to be easy but Jude relishes the challenge. At the end of the summer, will they find a way to stay together when everything is tearing them apart? This little scene is from the first time the three of them 'play' together and Sabrina is wondering what she has gotten herself into. Of course Jude is rather good at reassuring her, in many ways, that she's right where she should be. Yet that hold of Jude’s on her was so firm, unrelenting, and male. His callouses rubbed her nape. He’d shown her such consideration without relinquishing a single jot of control. And without him speaking a single word to her, Sabrina felt their connection sink in, from where his palm touched her skin, and spread through her flesh. The hem of the dress reached her upper thighs. Trembling, she adjusted her grip on the tablecloth, and put her forehead to the cloth. This book will be released on Halloween, and we'll be kicking off with a sale price of 99 cents for that weekend only. Check the Wicked Cucumber Press website for more information closer to the Halloween weekend. Late news, alas Leia and Wicked Cucumber won't be having a 99 cent sale on Release Day. Joining six sentence sunday can be fun! To join in, and find other participating writers, go here six sentence sunday On twitter use the hashtag #sixsunday Adults Only - 18 years plus There you are! You've made it this far through the Hero's Blog Hop - unscathed by arrows or swords, by bullets or by a hero's stunningly built muscles that gleam in the sunshine as if freshly polished. That is why you like heroes isn't it? So you can run your tongue down that torso, slowly detouring around their belly button, and downwards...unzipping...unbuttoning...mmm Or is it? I lift one eyebrow and give you a second to think. The physical yumminess is always enticing, but for me, it is what's inside them that makes a hero. And what they DO. I love a man with a heart, a lover's soul, a man who does what he has to when times are not just tough, but bad enough to bring him to his knees despite the landscape littered with shards of glittering glass. That man -- the man who crawls across the glass with sword in hand, or sharpened toothpick, to save his lady -- he is the hero for me. What is most important to you in a hero? Delectable muscles? Come on, admit your weaknesses. I won't tell a soul!
 My personal prize for this blog hop is a $5 gift card and a book from my backlist - so that excludes Rough Surrender, the one I have an excerpt for below. This is my hero, Leonhardt Meisner. A man who will move heaven and earth, and overcome his greatest fear, to save his love, Faith Evard.
I can't show Leonhardt's greatest heroic moment, because that is toward the end of the story, but here is when they first kiss. Faith halted at the door, put her palm to the wood while her other hand brushed her fringe back as well as she could without a mirror--needing that moment to compose herself. Liar. Damnable liar. She had let him do that. She couldn’t trust herself. “Leonhardt,” he said. “What?” Frowning, she turned. At least, this time he’d kept some distance, a few feet, between them. Not enough. Her treacherous tongue curled out to touch her lip. Why did she do that? As if...as if she could taste him on the air. Her nostrils flared. She could smell him, though: tobacco and soap and sweat, but even in winter, Cairo would make anyone sweat. “Leonhardt. Call me that.” “I doubt that would be appropriate, Mr. Meisner.” His mouth curved in a small smile. “You lied before. Of course.” He took an unhurried stride forward, brought up his arms and braced them either side of her head. Hell. “If it weren’t for that adorable tongue of yours, I’d have let you go. Now, I’m going to see what you taste like.” He lowered his head. Faith strained away, the back of her skull smacking lightly into the timber. “Don’t move.” Those two words were like nails driving her into place. He covered her lips with his and she gave a muffled groan as his tongue slid into her mouth alongside hers. All resistance vaporized. She fought to stay aware and upright though her legs threatened to collapse and her logical brain had disintegrated into a swirl of lustful thoughts. Nothing mattered except the feel of him inside her. His lips pressed and slid, his teeth caught her flesh here, there...his breath merged with hers. This was a man who knew how to take. His body moved in, squeezing her between timber and man. If she needed to breathe, she must accept what he gave her. If he didn’t hold her there, she’d fall. The world shifted on its axis. Sweet Jesus, she loved it. This time, when he drew away, she kept her fingers hooked into the heavy fabric of his coat. Something hard and long pulsed against her stomach--his manhood. All of their own accord, her hips arched forward. Her panting came a little faster. “We’d best be leaving.” He stroked the side of her face with his knuckles. “Mmm.” Someone had put glue on her tongue and throat “Mmm? You kiss like an angel come down from heaven, sweetheart. Tell me the truth this time, before I let you go. Did you like that?” Before I let you go That matter-of-fact statement shook her. Her eyes swept up, found his--so striking, so intense. She searched for a word to describe them. Animalistic? When eyes were given out, he’d been given the wrong ones--those of a hawk or wolf. She considered lying but couldn’t, not while he held her still in place. “Yes,” she whispered. “I did.” His knuckles feathered over her lips and, on impulse, she licked at them. His eyes darkened. A hiss escaped from between his teeth. “You tempt me too much.” Then he stood, moved back and gestured at the door. It took a moment for her to adjust to the loss--of feeling his body on hers. By the time he slid back the door and guided her toward the motorcar with his hand low on her back, she’d done some thinking. If she’d doubted his effect on her, she now knew for certain. He’d given her an entirely new understanding of kissing. Mr. Meisner...Leonhardt, could own her without doing anything more than saying a single word. He opened the passenger door. Their eyes met. Well, two words. She wasn’t that easy. Don’t move. The memory of her response scalded her. Like a cat on heat, she wanted to lie down at his feet and arch her back. Whatever am I going to do? Buylinks are below & a bigger sample from Rough Surrender is here.
 Night Owl Top Pick 5/5; The Romance Reviews Top Pick 5/5; Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews 5/5 "Purest Delight"; BDSM Book Reviews 5/5 Paddles, 5/5 Kinks; Kinky Book Reviews 5/5 Kinks; Mrs Condit Reads Books 5/5; Scorching Book Reviews 5/5; Erzabet's Enchantments 5/5; and Manic Readers 5/5 Make that 10 out of 10 sites. I can see from Goodreads, that Holly from Full Moon Bites is also giving the book 5/5
Steel Dominance, Book 3, Steamworks Chronicles, has gone to Loose Id. I already have this on my home page, but I figured it deserved a blog post. YES, I do have critters like that one above in the book. But they are cute, I swear it on my grandmother's garden bed. I call these clockies. Here is a tiny excerpt, a sneak peek of Steel Dominance. From the feel of it Dankyo had scooped something up. He moved in so his thighs jammed hers into the desk. Then the rhythmic quaking of his body on hers puzzled her a moment. “Are you laughing? What was it?” “This.” He held a golden metal creature the size of her palm before her eyes. “Oh!” She jerked her head back. It wriggled…had many legs. And damn, it reminded her of a cross between a spider and a crab. “It’s a clockie,” Dankyo said. He put a squarish glass jar on the desk, dropped the creature in and screwed on the lid. “The Ottomans bombard Byzantium with them every Tuesday or so.” “Ugh.” She peered at it, her thoughts strung between the feel of Dankyo’s body pressing on her and watching the thing scrabbling about in the bottle. “What are they for?” “They write religious graffiti. Don’t worry. It only got as far as G.” “G? Where?” “On your ass. G is for God.” Oh hell. And now he really was laughing. “Damn you! Stop that!” She squirmed about to shout at him but he only leaned in and squashed her flat with his whole body. “Shh. Stay there. I’m not finished with you yet.” And that statement made her freeze. Clockie a foot from her nose, some writing on her throbbing sore ass, but with him on top of her, the world drifted far far away. “Mmm. Yes.” Nothing much happened after that. He lay on her, breathing softly, holding her down, at times playing with her hair. The weight of him was enough to keep her still but not hurt her, enough to keep her from escaping or wriggling, and slowly, like a tide washing in and filling a rock pool, his presence filled her up. A word came to her that seemed to sum up how she felt. Possession.   This story is for a free anthology put out by my crit group. ERAuthors. But here's a little snippet. The story is the beginning/ teaser for a new series I'll be self-publishing.
PNR in a post-apocalyptic time. Series title - "Cataclysm Blues" This one has an American West background but with added sexy paranormal! Expected Release Date - Winter (US) 2012 The move was fast and unexpected. Rose couldn’t counter it and barely knew what he’d done after it was over. Her pistol was gone, she’d been shoved into the brick wall hard enough to sting her back, and Talon held both her hands above her head. Each of his hands pinned one of her wrists. They were both breathing hard. “Don’t scream. I’ll let you go. I just wanted you out here to talk, like I said.” She blinked. How had he done that? No one, ever, bested her. “You’re a freak.” She wriggled her wrists but all that did was chafe her skin on the brick. Could kick him. But he crowded her—his body pressing close. Groin to groin, his chest to her breasts, and his mouth inches away from hers. And there it was—that kerthump sinking feeling again. The temperature between her legs went up several degrees, and wet…she was much wetter down there. “Freak? Am I?” Rose heard that dead smile in his words again. “What about you?” “Me? I’m the sheriff.” He still held her. “The letting go bit? Remember? My deputy is coming.” “Not yet he isn’t. I can’t hear him.” The pause stretched to breaking point. “You’ve been stupid, Sheriff.” Yeah, she guessed she had. She’d thought she could take him. Killing someone took seconds, if you knew how. Looking into Talon’s night-darkened eyes only reinforced her gut instinct—this man could kill. But he hadn’t. And now, though she could try screaming, that meant sucking in a heap of air, and he’d know. On the flip side… “If you’d wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now.” “True.” So close, she felt the waft of warm air from his mouth as he spoke. She smelled him every time she inhaled. As if he read her mind, he leaned in and put his nose to her neck where it was bared by her collar. His warm skin on hers. The fine bristles on his chin rasped at her. She tensed. Why am I not protesting? I’m not some floozy. No? Then why haven’t I screamed for Deputy Yale? And sod it, that man is slow. “Kill you? You smell too good, beautiful. I think I have other plans.” Beautiful? Other plans? She stopped breathing. No one called her that. Especially not a six foot plus hunk of man who could, for once, eat her all up without half trying. His thigh moved in, denim to denim, pressing upward to where her clit resided. God damn, that’s… The wall seemed to slide a half inch upward, because her knees had caved. She’d melted—bone, muscle, everything. The only thing stopping her slide was his knee between her legs, and her arms fastened above. Around her wrists his grip rhythmically relaxed then tightened as if he was thinking. She thought about swallowing again, but that would be a dead giveaway to her arousal. “You’ve never been kissed, have you, Rose?” “Of course I have.” The huskiness in her voice bothered her. He’d know. Got to get back on the job. Get out of this hold for starters. “No. You’ve never had a man kiss you, though you might have kissed them. There’s a difference. I doubt anyone else could handle you. I can.” Stunned, she gaped at him. Does this revolutionary idea sending you running off screaming and waving your arms as if a zombie attack is imminent? Can you see yourself picking up a book with an ugly hero? Would you rather kiss a zombie than read about a guy with zits smooching the heroine?
I ’m not talking real life here. So puh-leese don’t throw things at me. I know we’re not all model material and I regularly wear a paper bag at the supermarket so as not to scare the customers. Moving on… This is a common gripe of readers -- handsome, shiny heroes who are like sculptures in manly flesh, all hairless and muscular with an abdomen you could snuggle up to for eternity while purring happily, and licking…mustn’t forget the licking. And don't get me started on the length of their magnificent nine inch cocks that in a pinch can be used to decapitate villains or rip open beer cans. I’d have to say I’m guilty of writing in such men, though sometimes I do leave the exact dimensions of the manly appendages unsaid. Imagination is king in a book. Readers like to exercise it every so often and an author spoonfeeding us every single detail is like eating cold porridge after a while. I’d also say that faced with such a man in reality, I’d be looking at those abs and wondering if you could play them like a xylophone. Too perfect is a downer. Give me some wrinkles, some evidence that the man has lived and done more than visit the gym and polish his pecs on a daily basis. What would be the line that is uncrossable though? Pimples? Bad breath and missing teeth? Baldness (noooo, I like my bald guys!). Is there a line at all or is it just a matter of ‘does the author have the talent and cojones to pull it off?’ Of course beauty, or ugliness, is in the eye of the beholder. A common perception is that publishers demand these Adonis types but I think authors can get away with a far from perfect main man if he appeals to the reader and rocks the lady’s socks (or stockings, corset, g-string and fuck-me shoes) off. I’ve seen delectable men written who are missing limbs or blind. Way to go authors! You’ve given me food for thought. Maybe this is the new trend? Imperfect men -- physically imperfect that is -- we all know and love men with tortured souls. So now it’s time for erotic romance to embrace those with tortured bodies. Or at the very least, those with bodies in need of a pedicure, and the attention of a team of plastic surgeons. Not that I’m letting those surgeons and beauty therapists near my new men. Stay as you are guys. I’ve got my shotgun out and locked and loaded -- um…can you do that with shotguns? And while I’m waiting for the therapists and surgeons to launch their assault, I’m off to blow away some tea party zombies. go HERE for zombies Here’s a game thrown at us BDSM authors by Lesli Richardson, who obviously likes her men with a few bits missing too…noses, eyes, arms, just not the pecker. Leave the pecker be. Please. Like a taste of BDSM instead? Click on the BDSM authors Playroom link over there on the right. |
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Copyright Cari Silverwood 2011. All rights reserved. No part of these publications may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author.
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 AuthorCari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling writer of kinky darkness or sometimes of dark kinkiness, depending on her moods and the amount of time she's spent staring into the night. Follow Cari Silverwood on...
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