Yup! You read it right. Lakeland Heatwave is coming in February 2012! If you live in the Lake District, that doesn’t mean you’ll need your swimwear next Valentine’s Day. What it does mean is that you’ll be able to buy my new — and my first – erotic paranormal romance, Lakeland Heatwave: Body Temperature and Rising. Even if you don’t live in the Lake District, you’ll be able to buy this sizzling novel, published by Xcite Books next February. And you guessed it — all the super-heated action takes place in the Lake District.
A walk on the fells turns into a voyeuristic wank session when American transplant to the Lake District, Marie Warren, stumbles onto a couple having loud, raunchy sex. As body heat rises and the mist descends, she doesn’t realize her insatiable lust is exactly what they’d hoped for. Tara Stone and the 150-year-old ruggedly charming ghost, Anderson, are a part of The Elementals, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts much-coveted access to the pleasures of the flesh. Marie doesn’t know it, but she is the long awaited fulfillment of a prophecy steeped in lust and fear. And murder.
Just a Little Taste of Lakeland Heatwave: Body Temperature and Rising
Marie woke to the awareness of a man sitting on the bed next to her, a man who, from the looks of his clothing, must have been at the same costume party as Anderson. His fly was open and he was stroking a substantial hard-on. Instead of being frightened, as would have been the normal response to a stranger rubbing one off on her bed, she simply admired his pale hair and the way his large hand moved over heavy equipment. She liked it when she conjured sexy men to visit her in her dream world. Better yet she had conjured one obviously ready to play.
It was back, that strange thrumming warmth between her hips, almost painful but not quite. Had it been there when she fell asleep? She couldn’t remember.
‘They told me about you. They told me you had come.’ The man said. ‘They didn’t tell me how strong you are. Even if they had, I would not have believed them.’ His voice was a harsh whisper. ‘I long to know what you look like beneath the duvet, beneath the nightdress. Please let me look at you.
So far this dream was shaping up well. She was happy to play I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours. Strangely Dream Guy sounded like he’d studied the same romantics Anderson had. Who’d have thought antiquated poet-speak could be so damned hot? She eased herself into a sitting position against the head board and pushed back the bedding.