#ThrowbackThursday A Quinceanera!

In Latin tradition, girls are given a quinceanera, or Sweet 15, in order to celebrate their passage from girl to woman.

We had a quinceanera for my daughter with our family and close friends as well as a number of her friends. It was a lovely time and I think everyone had a blast!

Part of the tradition is that the women of the family, mom, aunts, grandmother and godmother, each present the young woman with a gift that symbolizes the passage. Things like earrings, bracelets, rings and other items that a woman would wear.

Here are some photos of my daughter, her godmother (my sister), her aunt, her grandmother and me doing that rite of passage.

Here is a photo of my daughter, hubby and me. If you believe in such things, you will notice the orbs that were present in this photo and many of the others. One friend who attended and is a sensitive said the place was haunted. It could be. We had the celebration in an old inn that has been around since 1843.
Mom, Sam & Dad

#FreebieFriday – HONOR CALLS on Kindle Unlimited

Happy Friday! I am so excited about the re-release of HONOR CALLS, one of the novellas in The Calling is Reborn Vampire novels. This story features vampire slayer Michaela and FBI ADIC Jesus Hernandez and it’s a very emotional and sexy story that sets up Jesus and Michaela’s full story in DIE FOR LOVE. In HONOR CALLS you get to see the vampire underground in New York City and experience how Jesus doesn’t believe in things that go bump in the night until he sees Michaela stake a vampire right before his eyes. Even then it’s hard for him to accept what’s right before his eyes, but he can’t ignore it or Michaela who intrigues him on multiple levels. If you’d like to check out HONOR CALLS, it’s free over at Kindle Unlimited. You can find it at https://amzn.to/33nXtru. If you do read it, please take a moment to leave an honest review as these really do help authors.

#FreebieFriday – DESIRE CALLS from The Calling is Reborn Vampire Romance

Good morning! I am so looking forward to March and Spring. We went to the Philadelphia Flower Show yesterday and I’ll be sharing photos with you soon as well as photos from our trip to Longwood Gardens. Also exciting is the upcoming BookLovers Con as well as the Liberty States Fiction Writers Conference. I’m a founding member at Liberty States and this year’s conference looks awesome. Please take a moment to check it out at lsfwriters.com! Also please check out today’s blog stops on the NEVER A BRIDE blog tour and giveaway:

Book Lovers 4Ever
Bedazzled By Books
Scrupulous Dreams

Finally, it’s FreebieFriday and you can download a copy of DESIRE CALLS from The Calling is Reborn Vampire Romance novels at https://amzn.to/2TKMBOa.

#TeaserTuesday – A little bite from DESIRE CALLS

Good morning! I’ve got a little teaser for you from DESIRE CALLS, a novella in THE CALLING IS REBORN Vampire Romance series. FYI – You can also download your free copy of DESIRE CALLS at https://amzn.to/38Zb2O6

Desire Calls Blurb

Welsh vampire Blake has given up on any chance of love.

From the moment Blake Richards runs into sexy college coed Meghan Thomas, he imagines that it’s possible for him to actually fall in love once again. But when he loses control during their lovemaking, he has to decide between letting Meghan die or turning her. Blake turns her earning her eternal hatred and losing his chance for love. Until he runs into vampire elder Stacia and her power and humanity call to him in unexpected ways and make him believe that love just might be possible with the beautiful immortal.

Vampire elder Stacia hasn’t felt the pull of love in centuries.

Hidden from humans and feared by her own kind due to her immense age and powers, Stacia has few friends and even fewer lovers. The other elders urge her to give up on eternal love, but something inside Stacia says that if she does she will lose the very last bit of the humanity in her heart. But after a chance encounter with Blake, his spirit and strength intrigue her and she imagines that finally, she may have found the man worthy enough to be her eternal companion.

Desire Calls Teaser

This excerpt is for Mature Audiences only due to sexual and graphic contest

Chapter 1

The piazza always provided a fine selection for dining, Stacia thought as she sat on the railing along the edge of the Bernini fountain in Rome’s Piazza Navona. She gazed at the choices available in various spots around the square. French. German. Italian, of course.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger. It had been a day since she had eaten. Placing a hand over her belly, she rose and sashayed toward her first pick, but as she neared the Frenchman, she realized he was beyond lubricated. The stench of cheap wine clung to his shirt and oozed from his pores.

Shaking her head, she thought of the oft-repeated adage all those television chefs used — If it’s not good enough to drink, it’s not good enough for cooking — or in her case, for eating. That cheap stuff just left a bad aftertaste in your mouth along with a wickedly nasty buzz.

She preferred something cleaner on her palate tonight.

Which definitely had her bypassing the Aryan god she had noticed just a short distance away from the Frenchman. Germans were always a trifle heavy in her belly, although the broad set of his shoulders and well-muscled chest made her reconsider. She loved her men big and strong and so she lingered by the front of the outdoor cafe where he was seated. Even made eye contact with him for a moment.

Amazing crystal blue eyes, twinkling with interest. That much was clear.

Stacia smiled back, thinking that maybe he might be worth a nibble. Maybe they might actually even click, finally providing her with true pleasure after nearly two thousand years of undead life.

Mr. Tall, Blonde and Brawny rose from his chair, seemingly intent on making a move in her direction, but suddenly an equally tall, blonde and muscled woman joined him. Seeing that his attention was on Stacia, his companion began a harangue loud enough to make heads turn. The man plopped down into his chair like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs.

No spirit. That was so not good, Stacia thought and moved onward, still in search of something to satisfy her hunger.

She needed a man who could not only take a lickin’, but gave as good as he got. And not just when he was in a fight. It had been a good long while since any man had really satisfied her in bed, one of the downsides of having lived so long. Of being a vampire elder.

Even her own kind avoided her at times, aware that with her age came vast power, but also vast hunger. For blood. For sex. For control over lesser vamps. She didn’t want to admit that in her case, she still hungered for love. For real passion and desire.

Things she hadn’t felt in way too long.

Some of the other elders might say that she was foolish to yearn for such things. That she should let go of the last little bit of humanity within her that prompted such desires. Then and only then could she truly relish the immense vampire power that her age provided.

Stubbornly, though, Stacia refused to relinquish that last trace of humanity. Of want for something more than an eternal existence filled with only . . .

A fine looking American caught her eye as he laughed at the antics of his rowdy friends in front of one bar. He was as big and blonde as the whipped Aryan she had bypassed earlier, but as his gaze met hers, she saw steel there. Luscious grey eyes were framed by a sheath of shaggy sunbleached hair.

Stacia circled Mr. Surfer Dude, making eye contact and clearly letting the young man know that this might just be his lucky night.

It worked without her even using a bit of her vampire power. A flirtatious smile and her feminine wiles had been enough.

He approached, leaned down from his greater height and in awfully accented Italian, asked, “Parla Inglese?”

“Do we need to talk?” she said with a sexy wink and inclined her head in the direction of a nearby alley.

The young man smiled broadly and after a quick glance back at his friends, who hooted and carried on at his “score”, he took hold of her hand and followed her.

Stacia led him farther and farther back into the narrow alley, although not so far that he would think anything was amiss. Just far enough that he would think a strong shout could still be heard out in the piazza. Not that she would give him the opportunity to call out.

Toward the middle of the alley, the night closed in around them, with only the dimmest light from the full moon above. Clothed in darkness, the young man surprised her by becoming the aggressor, grabbing her forcefully and pinning her to the jagged brick wall.

“Like it rough, do you?” she said, but he didn’t answer since with quick hands he had already undone the laces on her leather vest and was gazing down at her breasts as they spilled free.

When he bent to suck at them, she moaned, thinking that he was exceptionally gifted with his mouth. Between her legs, the throb of human desire rose up, aching for fulfillment.

She quickly undid his jeans, reached past the loose folds of denim to the boxer shorts below.

How she loved this new fashion that made it so easy to free him. To stroke the rather magnificent length of him.

He bit down on one nipple as she caressed him, dragging a gasp from her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, although he was already lifting the almost non-existent hem of her black leather miniskirt to cup her bare buttocks and urge her upward.

With a surge, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. Drove down, crying out as the long thick length of him penetrated her. He was deliciously big, much like the rest of him.

His own groan was from the gut as she leaned back against the brick wall and he pounded into her, all finesse forgotten as he strove for release. As he looked down and watched the play of his hips against hers, as if fascinated by that sight. His blonde curls brushing the naked skin between her legs.

Stacia considered the emotions flitting across his face. Passion rose, dilating his eyes into shards of slate grey. Almost charcoal grey she realized as he met her gaze before dipping his head down again to suck on her breasts.

Inside her, heat built. Desire awakened the demon that hungered for so much. She threw her head back, allowed the beast to emerge so that it could experience it all. The dark of the night, enveloping them in its secrecy. The strength of his youth, bringing her closer and closer to completion. The musky smells of their lovemaking, pushing her over the edge.

She called out her physical completion and laid her face against his. Bent her head and kissed the crook of his neck. His skin was damp. Salty. His blood surged, singing through his veins as his heart beat quickened while he strove for his completion.

Sweet, sweet blood. Pulsing beneath her lips.

In a heartbeat, she loosed the beast, her fangs bursting forth and piercing the fragile skin of his neck.

He called out then in a strangled cry laced with pain, but also with the acknowledgement of passion like no other he had ever experienced — the passion borne from a vampire’s kiss.

Blood spilled onto her lips from her fangs as she drank, experiencing the surge of strength and lust that came from feeding. From his sweet, young blood bringing the rush of life to her undead body.

He tasted like the ocean and sun. Salty. So tasty that Stacia could have kept on going until she drained him dry, only he had done well by her tonight, satisfying one hunger while leaving another unfulfilled.

The young man’s knees weakened from the loss of blood and Stacia hopped off him. With her greater vampire strength, she gently eased him to the uneven pavement of the alley.

He was rather handsome, she thought, gazing down at him as he stared up at her, disoriented. The bite mark at his neck was already healing and come the morning, he would remember nothing. Feel no worse off than if he had a bad hangover.

And she would feel . . .

Still alone, she thought, hurrying from the alley as if by doing so, she could escape the bleakness of her existence.

Once out in the piazza, she realized that it was time to move on. She would not find satisfaction here.

New York would be good this time of year, it occurred to her as she strolled through the square. Lots of fine dining there and the wanna-bes at the Blood Bank were always good for a laugh.

Imagine, wanting to be human again, she thought. What good was that? she asked herself, ignoring the little voice in her head which reminded that with all that humanity came . . .

Love.

Free Download of Desire Calls Vampire Romance

#ManCandyMonday -Ricardo from DEVOTION CALLS

One of the things I loved about The Calling is Reborn is building a world filled with interesting secondary characters who would one day have their own stories. In DEVOTION CALLS, I brought back nurse Sara Martinez and santero Ricardo Fernandez. A santero is a priest of the santeria religion, but for Ricardo that is really a smokescreen for the powers he possesses that can help heal others, but which can also have a dark side. I’ve been thinking about using those powers to tie into a crossover with the Sin Hunters in the final book for The Calling is Reborn series – FIGHT FOR LOVE. This crossover would also set the scene for another book in the Sin Hunter Series – THE SHATTERED. Finally, there have been lots of characters in The Calling is Reborn that have had children. I’m thinking about a new series with this second generation of vampires, shapeshifters, and humans investigating both paranormal and human suspense stories. What do you guys think about that?

For today, here is how I pictured Ricardo from DEVOTION CALLS!
RICARDO fERNANDEZ sANTERO FROM dEVOTIONS CALLS

DEVOTION CALLS is available for pre-order at the following retailers:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2RD6pU5
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1496672835
B&N: bit.ly/BNDevotion
Kobo: bit.ly/KoboDevotion
Scribd: bit.ly/ScribdDevotion
Additional Retailers: https://books2read.com/b/mZKL9y

Here’s a little free read for you!

Excerpt

Chapter One

Spanish Harlem, New York City

The saints’ eyes followed him as he worked, scolding him for using them for his lie. Mocking him for denying the truth about what he was.

Ricardo Fernandez paused and laid his hands on the altar that embodied the fraud that was his life. He stared down the condemning gazes from the statues of the saints, used to such censure from those who refused to believe in his powers. Those whose fears forced him to hide behind the guise of a santero.

Picking up his hands, he turned them palm side up and as he had more than once in his thirty years of life, considered why he had been chosen to have this burden. Why with these hands that looked just like the hands of any other man, he possessed the power to both give life or take it away.

If he was a lesser man, he might have fallen into the trap of considering himself almost god-like. He might have possibly opted to sell his abilities to those willing to pay the highest price to be saved. He could have even made him a fine assassin, able to kill without leaving behind a trace.

He had done none of those things, he considered, as he once again examined his hands, and after, resumed his task.

With a gentle touch, he removed the offerings he had placed on the altar the day before. The fine cigar, now just a half-burnt stub and ashes. The shot glass of fragrant rum which had nearly evaporated from the heat of the radiator just a few feet away. With a quick check of the vase with the sunflowers he had placed beside one virgencita, he shifted to the last set of offerings.

A small pile of coins lay at the foot of one saint’s statue. He gathered up the money in his hand and thanked the deity. While he might not be a true believer, his costumers held to this faith. He wouldn’t besmirch their tenets. He hoped the prayer respectful enough to honor this and the other deities that allowed him to use the powers with which he had been born.

Ricardo didn’t like living a lie, but posing as a santero was the one way that had proved helpful so that he might use his healing gifts. He suspected that many of the people who sought him out might not have come to him if they realized his abilities were earthly. They preferred to think they came from rituals beseeching their gods.

Of course, if some god hadn’t decided to give him this boon, who had? Ricardo refused to consider the alternative since he had sworn to never use the dark side of his gift. Not even when someone asked for it, as had happened on more than one occasion.

As had happened just the other day with Evita Martinez.

He had been seeing Evita for just over a year now, ever since the doctors at one of New York City’s more prestigious hospitals had told her that there was nothing else they could do for her. That she should just go home and enjoy what was left of her life.

But Evita hadn’t wanted to die just yet. Having heard about his unique abilities from some of the other ladies in the neighborhood, she had come to him for help. She and her daughter, Sara.

Sara, he thought with a sigh, recalling the way that she had stood before him nearly a year earlier, skewering him with her gaze as he talked to her and her mother about what he could and could not do.

He knew that Sara hadn’t believed him. Worse, that she considered him a charlatan. Her bright hazel eyes had skewered him with her disbelief, much like those of the saints.

When he had found out that she was a nurse and had asked for payment of a most unusual kind — blood — she had likely also considered him to be certifiable. He had thought for a moment that she might run and take her mother with her, but then despair had crept into her eyes.

Sara loved her mother and at that moment, she had been desperate enough to do anything to help her — even if it meant bringing bags of blood to a man she considered less than dirt. Ricardo hated relying on that despair. He hated the lying, but he did what he had to so he could help people.

When Sara brought a blood bag later today, he would have to consider how to tell the prickly nurse that her mother’s cancer was growing faster than he could contain it. That her mother had asked him to help her pass peacefully when the time came rather than suffer with the pain.

Healing and killing. His gift and his curse, he thought.

A tap came against the glass of his door. He turned from the altar and stared toward the front of his store.

Sara Martinez stood there, chin tucked into the thick collar of the charcoal grey down jacket she wore against the lingering chill of winter. A crazy gust of March wind sent the silk of her shoulder-length brown hair swirling around her face. With a gloved hand, she combed her hair back and shifted from foot to foot, impatient and intractable as always about these visits.

The early morning sun played across her arguably pretty face. Heart-shaped with a hint of a cleft in her chin. Hazel-colored eyes that expressed so much with just a look. In his case, generally disgust. But he had seen how those eyes could warm to a molten caramel when they gazed upon someone she loved.

Last but not least, full lips. Or at least, he assumed they might be full. It was tough to tell from the grim smile she usually wore around him. Like she did right now as she waited at his door.

With a deep breath to prepare himself for what he would soon tell her, Ricardo walked toward her.

#WriteWed – Free read from DEVOTION CALLS from The Calling is Reborn

One of the things I loved about The Calling is Reborn is building a world filled with interesting secondary characters who would one day have their own stories. In DEVOTION CALLS, I brought back nurse Sara Martinez and santero Ricardo Fernandez. Even more fun was introducing a different kind of vampire – a chupacabra! I hope you enjoy today’s free read from DEVOTION CALLS which was a Cataromance winner for Best Silhouette Nocturne when it was released. DEVOTION CALLS is available for pre-order at the following retailers:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2RD6pU5
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1496672835
B&N: bit.ly/BNDevotion
Kobo: bit.ly/KoboDevotion
Scribd: bit.ly/ScribdDevotion
Additional Retailers: https://books2read.com/b/mZKL9y

Excerpt

Chapter One

Spanish Harlem, New York City

The saints’ eyes followed him as he worked, scolding him for using them for his lie. Mocking him for denying the truth about what he was.

Ricardo Fernandez paused and laid his hands on the altar that embodied the fraud that was his life. He stared down the condemning gazes from the statues of the saints, used to such censure from those who refused to believe in his powers. Those whose fears forced him to hide behind the guise of a santero.

Picking up his hands, he turned them palm side up and as he had more than once in his thirty years of life, considered why he had been chosen to have this burden. Why with these hands that looked just like the hands of any other man, he possessed the power to both give life or take it away.

If he was a lesser man, he might have fallen into the trap of considering himself almost god-like. He might have possibly opted to sell his abilities to those willing to pay the highest price to be saved. He could have even made him a fine assassin, able to kill without leaving behind a trace.

He had done none of those things, he considered, as he once again examined his hands, and after, resumed his task.

With a gentle touch, he removed the offerings he had placed on the altar the day before. The fine cigar, now just a half-burnt stub and ashes. The shot glass of fragrant rum which had nearly evaporated from the heat of the radiator just a few feet away. With a quick check of the vase with the sunflowers he had placed beside one virgencita, he shifted to the last set of offerings.

A small pile of coins lay at the foot of one saint’s statue. He gathered up the money in his hand and thanked the deity. While he might not be a true believer, his costumers held to this faith. He wouldn’t besmirch their tenets. He hoped the prayer respectful enough to honor this and the other deities that allowed him to use the powers with which he had been born.

Ricardo didn’t like living a lie, but posing as a santero was the one way that had proved helpful so that he might use his healing gifts. He suspected that many of the people who sought him out might not have come to him if they realized his abilities were earthly. They preferred to think they came from rituals beseeching their gods.

Of course, if some god hadn’t decided to give him this boon, who had? Ricardo refused to consider the alternative since he had sworn to never use the dark side of his gift. Not even when someone asked for it, as had happened on more than one occasion.

As had happened just the other day with Evita Martinez.

He had been seeing Evita for just over a year now, ever since the doctors at one of New York City’s more prestigious hospitals had told her that there was nothing else they could do for her. That she should just go home and enjoy what was left of her life.

But Evita hadn’t wanted to die just yet. Having heard about his unique abilities from some of the other ladies in the neighborhood, she had come to him for help. She and her daughter, Sara.

Sara, he thought with a sigh, recalling the way that she had stood before him nearly a year earlier, skewering him with her gaze as he talked to her and her mother about what he could and could not do.

He knew that Sara hadn’t believed him. Worse, that she considered him a charlatan. Her bright hazel eyes had skewered him with her disbelief, much like those of the saints.

When he had found out that she was a nurse and had asked for payment of a most unusual kind — blood — she had likely also considered him to be certifiable. He had thought for a moment that she might run and take her mother with her, but then despair had crept into her eyes.

Sara loved her mother and at that moment, she had been desperate enough to do anything to help her — even if it meant bringing bags of blood to a man she considered less than dirt. Ricardo hated relying on that despair. He hated the lying, but he did what he had to so he could help people.

When Sara brought a blood bag later today, he would have to consider how to tell the prickly nurse that her mother’s cancer was growing faster than he could contain it. That her mother had asked him to help her pass peacefully when the time came rather than suffer with the pain.

Healing and killing. His gift and his curse, he thought.

A tap came against the glass of his door. He turned from the altar and stared toward the front of his store.

Sara Martinez stood there, chin tucked into the thick collar of the charcoal grey down jacket she wore against the lingering chill of winter. A crazy gust of March wind sent the silk of her shoulder-length brown hair swirling around her face. With a gloved hand, she combed her hair back and shifted from foot to foot, impatient and intractable as always about these visits.

The early morning sun played across her arguably pretty face. Heart-shaped with a hint of a cleft in her chin. Hazel-colored eyes that expressed so much with just a look. In his case, generally disgust. But he had seen how those eyes could warm to a molten caramel when they gazed upon someone she loved.

Last but not least, full lips. Or at least, he assumed they might be full. It was tough to tell from the grim smile she usually wore around him. Like she did right now as she waited at his door.

With a deep breath to prepare himself for what he would soon tell her, Ricardo walked toward her.
Devotion Calls chupacabra romantic suspense