Friday, October 9, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Conaire fears for his sanity after being trapped on the Other Side for so many eons. All he wants is to get back to the human realm. So when the evil Fae Queen Elphame gives him a chance to escape, he takes it, completely unaware of the spell she casts as he steps through the ancient circle.
Seeing the spell and knowing it will not only bind Conaire, but his brother, MacKay, as well, to the first woman Conaire sleeps with, Scota takes matters into her own hands. She’s found the perfect mate for her sons.
If only someone had warned Tasha. Now she finds herself bonded to not one but two arrogant Scots gods.
Yep, this was definitely a dream. For one thing, she’d dated Hispanics, Asians, and Native American men, but she’d never strayed to pure vanilla before. Not that she had anything against white men, she’d just never experienced them. She simply couldn’t recall a white man, no matter how fine, making her this hot before -- and just by looking at him, to boot. Tasha was the kind of girl who needed a lot of coaxing and foreplay. Yet here she was all ready to jump some strange white guy. Oh, well, it was just a dream, right?
“Hi,” Tasha offered by way of breaking the ice. Her dreams didn’t usually include introductions, but what the hell. She was willing to roll with it.
“What manner of woman are ye, lass?” came the unexpected reply.
It was because she was in Scotland. Had to be. There was no other excuse for the question to tickle her rather than piss her off. Plus that deep voice laced with the accent was incredibly sexy. “I’m American,” she explained with a hell of lot more patience than she would have had if she’d been awake. “African-American.”
“Ah, the Colonies.” He nodded as if he were making perfect sense. “That explains it.”
Like there were no black people in Scotland. There weren’t a lot, but still, this was the twenty-first century. Being a dream man, maybe he was from another time. Yeah, she liked that. Her very own Highland warrior-type dude.
“I was here long before any Highlander, lass,” the man told her as he climbed on the bed toward her. “And I promise you this is no dream.”
Tasha closed her eyes as his hands caressed her cheeks, moving down to her throat, then to the valley in between her breasts. Never had a man’s touch set her on fire as quickly as this Viking.
“I’m nae a Viking, lass.” He cupped her breast and pinched the nipple. “You’ll nae call me one again.”
She didn’t recall calling him anything, at least not aloud. She would have informed him of that, but his mouth covered her other breast at that moment, biting painfully down on her nipple, and then lapping the pain away with his tongue. Her mind blanked, making her unable to concentrate on anything other than what he was doing to her. Her breathing grew labored as he moved to the other breast, lavishing equal attention on it before he raised his head and smiled down at her. “Conaire,” he told her.
“My name, lass. It’s Conaire.”
Were names really necessary in a dream like this? “Um, my name is… Uh…” Damn it! What the heck was her name? She knew it a minute ago, she was sure of it.