Showing posts with label Lisa Carlisle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lisa Carlisle. Show all posts

Monday, November 10, 2014

Rock My Senses by Lisa Carlisle

Knights of Stone


Rock My Senses

Lisa Carlisle

Underground Encounters 6


Computer geek by day, by night Mike Harvey becomes outlandish guitarist Chee Keydood for rock band Velvet Cocks. Spotting two women kissing in a club, he thinks he’s in luck.
Allana Miles isn’t sure what came over her, but she sure as hell recognizes Chee and can’t believe he doesn’t remember her from their one-night stand. But she has no time to think about him—she’s too busy opening her own yoga studio to get involved in a relationship.
When they meet again at a New Year’s party, their attraction reignites, too hot to ignore. But they’ve got issues to overcome. Allana catches glimpses of the man behind the façade, but doesn’t think they can fit into each other’s lives even though the sex is great. Mike has always known he’s a bit different, but is shocked to discover his real nature. Will he be able to protect Allana from danger and convince her to take a chance on him?
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt

Peering behind an amp where the sound came from, I saw something that made me forget why I was back here. Two women were in a heated kiss. A tall auburn-haired one wearing a black vinyl dress with corset fastenings along her back had a petite blonde pressed against a wall. I slipped back against the wall to blend in with the shadows, mesmerized. Was there anything hotter than two women making out?
The taller one took the smaller woman’s wrists and pressed them higher against the wall. She moved her mouth down to kiss the blonde’s neck and slid her hand under her skirt.
Holy shit! She was touching her right in front of me. Forget the burlesque dancers, this was a much better private show.
Now I could see more of the blonde’s face, her eyes closed, mouth half-open, and an expression that spelled pure ecstasy. The tiny mewling sounds escaping her shot me to rock-hard status. I had to adjust my pants. Watching them was wrong, I knew it. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away even if I’d had a crowbar.
The blonde cried out, setting my senses on alert. Compelled to make sure she was all right, I peered closer. Her pained expression changed to a rapturous one, clearly enjoying whatever was happening. Maybe they liked it rough, with a little pain. Nothing wrong with that.
I didn’t hear anyone approach, but a massive, long-blond-haired guy in black swooped in front of the women. “Nike, stop,” he commanded.
The auburn-haired woman turned his way and hissed. It sounded more feline than female. “Leave us, Danton.” She bent down over the woman’s neck again.
“You can’t do this.” He pulled her away as if she were as light as a mic stand. “Where’s Michel?”
This woman had drops of blood smeared on her chin and on sharp white teeth, which I swear looked like fangs. Holy shit, fangs. I knew this club was full of freaks, but vampire play? Jeez.
“He’s not here,” she hissed.
“Let’s call him to come get you.” He clamped onto her wrist and she pouted, but didn’t fight him.
The guy scanned the area backstage and pointed at me. “You. Take her out of here.” He nodded to the blonde. Her eyes still appeared unfocused, dazed by lust.
“What?” I replied, stepping out from behind the amp. “I don’t even know her.”
“Get her out of here. It’s for her safety,” he said. With his free hand, he took the blonde by the wrist and nudged her in my direction.
The blonde’s eyes floated around, but then widened when she focused on my face. “You?” she said, astonished.
After a quick glance at her, the Viking dude said, “You will not remember any of what happened back here tonight.” His eyes fixated on mine, not blinking.
“What the hell, dude?”
He looked away and inhaled, closing his eyes and muttering something under his breath. Staring at me again, he said, “You will forget what happened back here tonight.”
“Whoa, are you trying to pull some kind of Jedi mind trick on me?” I raised my hands. “Not cool, man.”
The Viking guy continued to stare, but then tilted his head, appraising me. The woman began to squirm out of his grasp, flashing her bloody fangs our way as she reached for the blonde next to me.
“Get her out of here,” he repeated. “Now!”
The urgency in his voice and the prospect of being bitten by a madwoman who took a fascination with vampires to an extreme spurred me into action. Forgetting about the band with their luscious half-naked dancers, I grabbed the blonde’s hand. She was somewhat woozy and toddled on her spiky heels so I threw her over my shoulder to get us out of the club faster. Her scent washed over me, clean with undertones of coconut. It tugged at the back of my brain with familiarity.
Her wits must have begun to return as she pounded my lower back. “Put me down.”
“Easy, princess,” I said. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help! Put me down.”
Once we were outside in the brisk New England air, I set her on her feet. The salty tang of the ocean tickled my nostrils even though it was hundreds of yards away. A light dusting of snow had fallen and a few snowflakes fluttered through the air, but it wasn’t dense enough to stick and would probably be gone by morning.
“What the hell was that about in there? You’ve got blood dripping down your neck.”
She dabbed at her neck and stared at her fingers, now stained dark red. “What the—” A snowflake went straight for her finger and we both watched mesmerized as stark white met velvet red and was swallowed by it.
A few snowflakes fell onto her cheeks and her tiny nose and I felt an urge to brush them away, but they melted once they met the warmth of her flushed skin. She had delicate features and pretty blue eyes. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place how I knew her. Her blonde hair lay tousled on her shoulders, set off by the black of a dress that clung to her tight little body. My cock had settled down after the freaky incident inside, but twitched back to life again.
“Are you two into some weird-ass drugs and vampire role-play or something?” I asked.
My question distracted her from her blood-covered fingers. She still appeared dazed, but wobbled less. The fresh air and sight of blood must have jolted her back to reality. She reached into her purse and pulled out tissues to blot the blood.
“I’m not judging,” I clarified, in case I embarrassed her. “We all have our things.” When she didn’t answer me, I asked, “Where do you live?”
She focused on me with a dead-eyed stare. “Figures you don’t remember.”

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Thanks for sharing Lisa,

Anita

Thursday, July 31, 2014

Better Than Cake by Lisa Carlisle a #RockingSummerRomance


Better than Cake

Lisa Carlisle
After the worst fight of their relationship, the last place Stephanie wants to be is a wedding reception. She still can’t get over what happened. Could their five years of marriage be destroyed after a blast of heated words? Johnny suggested separating. Separating! Now with her marriage on the line, she has to put on a brave face and pretend love is grand.
Johnny doesn’t know why he’d freaked out the way he had and is left with one emotion. Regret. He doesn’t want to lose Stephanie. He must find her and make things right.
Stephanie enters the reception, fearing the end of her marriage. Johnny has something else in mind—a much more decadent proposal that will turn her friend’s wedding into an event they’ll never forget.

A short erotic romance for only  99 cents! Perfect for a beach or summer read.

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Excerpt
Who gets ditched at a wedding? Stephanie paused and took a deep breath before walking into her friend’s reception. Something like this could only happen to her.
Ditched wasn’t a strong enough description. “Maybe we should try separating.” Johnny’s words echoed in her mind, lashing her psyche raw with repetition.
Separating! She closed her eyes. Unthinkable.
It’s okay. You can do this. Stick it out for a couple of hours and then you can deal with the mess.
How would she explain her husband’s sudden absence? He was at the ceremony, but wouldn’t be at the reception. What would be a reasonable explanation? They were spending the weekend here in Cape Cod so it would be tough to feign a work or family excuse.
Illness. Yes, something about seafood. That would be plausible at a seaside resort. Food poisoning. She had an excuse—but it didn’t make her feel any better about the situation.
Beyond the Sea wafted out from the ballroom, appropriate for this Cape Cod seaside resort. She glanced up at the imposing exterior of the multi-level hotel. Her hand trembled so she clutched her silver purse tighter. She raised her chin to steel herself and entered the hotel.

Stephanie scanned the place settings to find hers. Mr. and Mrs. John Silvio. Table nineteen. She dropped her purse to her side, but her fingers still clenched it. The last place she wanted to be after a killer argument with her husband was a wedding. She forced herself to enter the reception area, squeezing through all those decked in suits and evening gowns. Searching the table numbers for nineteen, she followed them to the back of the room. She guessed she’d be furthest from the head table, since she was neither family nor close friend, but an old college roommate of the bride. She made her way to the back of the room, braved a smile, and introduced herself to the couples already seated.
“Hi. I’m Stephanie.”
“Elaine,” a heavyset woman with puffy blond hair said. “You’re alone?”
Great. Just fantastic. Starting right with the topic she wanted to avoid. “Yes. My husband couldn’t make it tonight. Something he ate earlier,” she babbled. “Probably the shellfish.” She shrugged.
The others introduced themselves as she sat down and peppered her with questions about where they bought the seafood. A few shared their stories of food poisoning.
It was going to be a long night.
Once the attention was off her, she replayed the fight for what had to be the fortieth time since it happened. After a ripple of snide comments evolved into a tsunami of a fight, she stormed away from Johnny and ended up talking to herself like a crazy person as she pounded through the surf.
“Separating? Why does he take a small argument and blow it up into something like this? How could he do this to me at my friend’s wedding? What the fuck!”
A couple of miles later, she had calmed down. It wasn’t all his doing. She was the one who’d dragged them here when he had other plans. Her fury decreased as the sun sank lower in the sky, replaced by a cloak of sadness.
She didn’t want to split up.
Her eyes began to water. How the heck would she make it through the night without breaking down? Her marriage could be over. How long could she sport a brave face before it dropped?
“Excuse me,” she said and hurried into the ladies room. She barely made it through the door before her eyes pooled with tears.
She grabbed tissues and blotted them, fixing her smudged makeup the best she could.
“You can do this,” she told her reflection in the mirror.
As much as she dreaded being at a wedding while her own marriage hung in jeopardy, she had to put her feelings aside for the sake of Caryn. She’d only get married once.
Hopefully.

* * * * *

Johnny caught glimpses of the ocean from the cab and couldn’t help but brood on what he had said to Stephanie down the beach this afternoon. A cold black cloak had surrounded him since, fastened with shackles of regret. The same question echoed in his head ever since.
Why?
Why had he freaked out the way he had? Said the things he had? The day had started out great. They woke up at the bed and breakfast and had the morning free before the ceremony. They’d rented bikes on the Cape Cod Rail Trail and had ridden past sand dunes and shacks, cranberry bogs and duck-filled ponds, villages and pine forests, and even a couple of lighthouses. The scenery was one thing, his beautiful wife riding alongside him something else. He could barely keep his eyes off her lithe body and on the trail.
When they’d stopped to buy sandwiches from one of the beachside shacks and had a picnic lunch on the beach, things were still good. It wasn’t until after the seaside wedding ceremony this afternoon that he’d opened his mouth and all kinds of stupid fell out. And for what? Something trivial, not something to throw away a marriage over.
Their argument had stirred weeks before. He resented her for dragging him to a wedding when he’d already had plans for his monthly camping trip with his buddies, He had stormed about it for days, but downright exploded on the beach earlier. Telling her she was too controlling, she shouldn’t speak for him and make him cancel his plans to do something she wanted. How his outdoor trips were how he decompressed from work and if she didn’t get it by now, she didn’t get him. She’d countered, saying he used the same justification for his softball games, and sometimes he had to suck it up and act like an adult. Snide comments had escalated into verbal jabs. Past grievances were drudged up as their defenses rose. Accusations flew, growing uglier, and digging up past perceived injustices, until finally, he had suggested a trial separation.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d said it. A heat of the moment incident, blurting out something to end the fight with something he didn’t even mean.
Her shocked expression had turned to one of hurt as she blinked back tears. Then she’d lashed back at him. “If you’re so shallow and selfish that you consider a weekend away from your buddies such brutality, then yeah, maybe we should.”
When she had stormed away from him across the beach, he had turned away thinking to hell with her and pounded through the sand in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until he had turned back several minutes later to see she was gone that he realized he might have made the biggest mistake of his life.

About the Author

Lisa loves stories with dark, brooding, isolated characters and tough, independent, caring heroines. Her reading tastes very widely and she’ll read almost anything—especially mysteries, romance, and non-fiction on any new topic of interest.

She is thrilled to be a multi-published author writing since she’s wanted to write since the sixth grade. Her travels and many jobs have provided her with inspiration for novels, such as serving in the Marine Corps in Okinawa, Japan, backpacking alone around Europe, or working as a waitress in Paris. Her love of books inspired her to own a small independent book store for a couple of years.

Lisa lives in New England with her husband and their children. She spends her days writing for corporate clients and her evenings writing stories and novels.

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Thanks Lisa for sharing,

Anita