Thanks so much, everyone, for participating in the Let Tracy Wolff and Lauren Dane Take You to Another World contest! I’ve really enjoyed reading everyone’s answers to the Questions of the Day and giving away so many awesome books.
Tomorrow marks the release day of my very first paranormal romance, Dark Embers, and I’m so excited about it I’ve been driving my family crazy. Normally, I’m pretty calm around release day (except for the first one, of course) but I love this book so much—and Dylan, my hero, particularly—that I’m anxious to hear what my readers think.
Here is a quick blurb and excerpt about the book. Be sure to comment below for your last chance to be entered into the Grand Prize drawing for my huge bag of books and swag!
DARK EMBERS is a blistering hot, fast-paced adventure that will leave readers breathless. Dylan and Phoebe have great chemistry and a romantic story that will captivate you and keep you turning pages long into the night. I’m really looking forward to the next book in the series! NY Times Bestselling Author, Anya Bast
King Dylan MacLeod is one of the last pure-bred dragon shapeshifters in existence—and ruler of a dying race, the Dragonstar clan. It falls to him to protect his people—and their ancient magic. He has one more duty: to provide an heir.
Like all dragons, Dylan can only procreate with his destined mate—for whom he’s searched for five hundred years. His dark, rampant sexual appetite has earned him quite the reputation, all in the pursuit of his one true match.
But his search is delayed when a deadly disease sweeps through the Dragonstars, and Dylan must venture to the human world to find a cure. He tracks down renowned biochemist Phoebe Quillum, never imagining the beautiful scientist will be the mate he’s been seeking for centuries. But no sooner do they meet then Phoebe and Dylan are besieged by an obsessive, overpowering sexual desire.
Their passion turns to something truer—and they know in their souls and bodies that they’re in too deep to get out. And when Phoebe is kidnapped by Dylan’s oldest enemy, he must risk everything to reclaim the only woman he’s ever loved, or his clan will be wiped out forever.
Click To Read The Amazing Excerpt!
“You want me to take your blood.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do. If you think you can handle it.” It was a deliberate taunt, and he was thrilled when her hands clenched into fists so tight, he could see them through her pockets. When she turned away from him, her spine was ruler straight and just as tight.
He wanted to ask where she was going, but knew doing so would make him look weak—something he could not afford. Not here in front of Phoebe, and definitely not back with his clan, where his strength and power—and that of his sentries—were the only things that kept the Dragonstars from falling to their enemies.
When she stopped at the back of the lab, he was glad he hadn’t given in to his curiosity. She gathered up a sterilized needle kit, a couple of vials with purple lids and a few microscope slides.
It looked like she was going to humor him.
Phoebe marched back toward him, hands full, face set, lips pressed together. Everything about her screamed that she thought this was a waste of time, but he was okay with that. Hard not to be, when he was trying to convince a scientist to believe in things that went bang in the night.
“Let me see your arm.”
He braced himself, but was still thrown for a loop when she stepped close to him. She ripped open a packet, then grabbed his arm and ran an alcohol wipe over the inside bend of his elbow.
“You’ll feel a pinch,” she murmured as she tore open the packet that held the disposable needle.
“I think I can handle it.”
“I would hope—” Her voice broke as his extended arm brushed against her breast.
He froze, though his entire body strained to touch her again. Inside, his dragon roared and knocked itself into the wall of restraint he’d built to hold it back. He ignored it. It was hard enough to keep himself under control without dealing with the dragon, too.
“I would hope,” she continued breathlessly, “that you could handle it.”
She reached for him again, and this time her hand was shaking as badly as her voice. He wanted to pull her against him, to nuzzle open her lips, slip his tongue inside and explore her mouth until he’d gotten his fill. Wanted to run his tongue down her neck to the pulse at the base of her throat, to wrap himself in her scent until every breath he took was of her.
Warning bells went off in the back of his head, but he ignored them. Then, because he knew he couldn’t do what he wanted with her, he settled for making things just a little more difficult—for both of them.
He wrapped his free hand around her waist and tugged until she was standing between the deep V of his open legs, so close that the outsides of her thighs were touching the inner part of his.
She was cool compared to him, but the differences in their body temperatures only made the contact feel better. More forbidden.
He’d spent the past few centuries having sex with every female dragon that would have him, all in search of a mate. There was something liberating—something infinitely arousing—in his attraction to this woman who was so very different from him.
This woman who so obviously was not meant for him.
He took a deep breath, and his chest brushed against her breasts. She started, tried to move back, but his hand was still wrapped around her lower back and he wasn’t ready for her to move away. Not by a long shot.
“Dylan.” Her breath was coming much too fast, her pupils dilating until they all but covered the bright blue of her irises. Her apricot skin had once again flushed a most becoming pink. And her nipples were poking through the thin cotton of her shirt. It took all his concentration to rip his eyes away.
“Phoebe.” His voice came out low and deep, sounding more like the dragon than he would have liked as he drew his gaze back to her face. But there was no help for it. She was delicious—every part of her sweetly desirable—and he wanted her. Even knowing she wasn’t the one for him, even knowing that it would complicate things unbearably if he had her, he couldn’t stop the burn.
Didn’t want to stop it.
Again her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Again he had to battle himself and his beast to keep from sucking the sweet, pink tip between his own lips.
“I need . . .” What do I need? Phoebe asked herself frantically. Besides to climb onto Dylan’s lap and take him inside her? The ache that had started when she first saw him exploded when his arm brushed against her breast, and now all she could think about was how it would feel to fuck Dylan MacLeod. For a woman who always put her work first, it was a troublesome—yet intensely exciting—feeling. She was so far gone that by the time he’d be buried inside of her, she might not even care that he was certifiably insane.
She blew a deep breath out through her mouth and tried to focus. Blood. She was drawing his blood so that she could show him, once and for all, that there were no abnormalities. That he and his people weren’t different, at least not on a biological level.
“I need to wrap this around your arm.” She held up the hot pink elastic band she used to isolate the blood flow in the area.
“Be my guest.” He held his arm out and it brushed against her breasts—her nipples—for the second time. A quick glance at his wolfish smile told her he’d done it on purpose and that he had no plans to apologize for it in the near future.
Her nipples tightened even more, though she would have sworn it was impossible just seconds before. They were so hard, so sensitive, that the stiff lace of her bra was fast becoming excruciating.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the sensations whipping through her. Tried harder to focus on the task at hand. But since that meant bending over his heavily muscled bicep, running her finger over the hot skin of his forearm as she looked for a vein, it was easier thought than done.
“Pump your fist for me.”
“Sure.” His long fingers curled oh, so slowly inward, and for one insane moment, a picture flashed in her head of those same fingers curled around his cock while he slowly worked it up and down.
Her knees trembled until she locked them in place. Refusing to look at his face as he pumped his fist once, twice, she finally found the vein she was searching for beneath the heavy cords of muscle.
“It’ll only pinch for a second.” With effort, she kept her voice clinical.
“I’m not worried.”
Of course he wasn’t. She cleaned the area with an alcohol swab again, having forgotten that she’d already done it, until he smirked at her. Then slid the needle home.
It wasn’t as easy as she’d expected it to be—his muscles were rock hard, his skin thicker and harder to penetrate than she was used to.
We’re different. Different blood chemistry. Different. His voice echoed in her head, but she cut it off. The whole concept was absolutely ridiculous.
Except she’d hit his vein—she knew she had—yet the blood wasn’t flowing. “Pump your fist again.”
He did as she told him, shifting on the stool as he did. Suddenly, his thighs weren’t just resting outside hers; they were all but hugging hers, and she was standing much too close to his zipper for comfort.
God, he was hot, the heat literally rolling off him in waves and swamping her. She could feel herself heating up from the inside, the cold that was so often a part of her dissolving under his onslaught of warmth. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back, then another, and still the blood didn’t flow.
“Maybe I missed the vein.” Was that her voice? Had that breathy, wild whimper really come from her throat?
“You didn’t miss it.”