So MR. RED is in the wild (and an ARe bestseller, so thank you very much!), and the current Naomi Clark project is almost ready to be submitted, and so it's time to start thinking about the next project. I had hoped to make a start on it this month, but a combination of crazy perfume sales, exhausting day job stuff, and a few bouts of illness have slowed me down in September. It's now looking more like October before I start the next novel, and that will definitely be a Naomi Clark book.

​But after that, I'll switch back to Amber Morgan stuff. The question is...what stuff?

Wild Blood MC 3 is the big priority, but I do like to write something short and (theoretically) quick after finishing a big novel (which the Naomi Clark project will be - one big novel and a novella, in fact, if all goes according to plan), so I'm thinking I should finish one of the four shorter pieces I already have on the go before plunging into Wild Blood. I've got a choice of two paranormal romances, a Mafia romance, and an MMA romance. If you follow me on Twitter, you know I'm pretty keen on my MMA, so that's what I'm leaning towards at the moment. Although one of the paranormals would (theoretically) be much quicker to finish up...

Of course, I fully anticipate the Naomi Clark Project taking me the rest of the year to finish up, so this is all purely academic right now. By the time I'm ready to write something new, my inclinations may have changed completely. But I would love to get another short story written and submitted under this pen name before the end of 2016, just to start 2017 with a flourish :) So we'll see! Be it fallen angels, polar bear shapeshifters, Russian mobsters, or MMA fighters - or bikers! - something will get written. This, at least I can always be sure of.

Excerpt
Reaching out I touched her chin, tilting her head back. Her eyes were pale green and wide, shining up at me. She looked almost haunted and in that moment I wanted desperately to make everything right for this girl. Whatever she’d gone through surely it wasn’t bad enough to leave her looking like that, as if her heart was breaking.

“Everyone deserves their second chance,” I said quietly, holding her gaze and letting my fingers trace over the edge of her jaw. “Hell, some get multiple chances.”

Her skin was soft and cool under my fingers. We stood close, that strawberry smell that was so her, so Shawna, drawing me closer and closer to her. My heart beat a million miles an hour and I could feel myself being inching toward her. My hand curled around her neck holding her steady as she kept my gaze, a tiny pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.

That’s what did me in.

I don’t remember planning to kiss her or even thinking about it but before I knew what had happened I’d lowered my head and pressed my mouth to hers. She tasted like fucking strawberries and inside my chest my heart lurched as I traced over her soft, plump lips with my tongue before sliding my mouth over hers and forcing her to open for me. Our touch was light and her sweet breath washed over me making my whole body harden. I deepened the kiss wondering if and when she’d pull away and marvelling when I felt her hands come to rest on my chest before they reached up and wrapped around me, her fingers sliding into my hair.

My senses where completely and utterly overwhelmed by Shawna. By her smell, her touch, her taste, the way she made tiny little noises in the back of her throat as the kiss deepened, as our mouths moved against one another and our tongues tangled. I stepped closer, pressing her back against the wall and pushing my body up against her, loving the way she paused to gasp as my arousal pressed against her stomach. But she didn’t pull away, she didn’t push me away and she didn’t ask me to stop. Instead she returned my kiss, clutching at me and making those delightful fucking noises. I kept my hands on either side of her head not trusting myself to touch her, knowing that once I did I’d have serious trouble stopping. I wanted to touch and kiss each and every part of her, I wanted to see the peachy cream smoothness of her naked body, I wanted to pinch and tweak the ruby red of her nipples until she cried out and I wanted to taste the sweetness that I knew lay between her legs. Just the idea of her, of burying myself in her, of losing myself in her made me push harder against her and groan into her mouth.

He's here! MR. RED released yesterday and you can get your hands on him right now. Where from you ask?

Enjoy! I'm off to finish a short story and start planning the next one... :)

Since tomorrow is release day for MR.RED, I figured I'd offer you a sneak preview today to whet your appetites ;) I had so much fun writing this story, and I'm really excited for it to be out in the world and with you all. So without further ado...here's a look at the start of Ally and Mr. Red's story.

There was a beautiful, candy-apple red Ferrari parked outside Ally’s house, glowing under the flickering street light. The sight of it knotted her stomach in dread. Her father had many unsavory “friends,” from fellow drug dealers to crooked cops to bent lawyers. Only one of them drove an apple-red Ferrari, and only one of them would be brazen enough to park such an expensive toy in plain sight on the worst street in the worst neighborhood in the city.

Mr. Red was here again.

Ally hesitated at the end of the drive, staring at the car. A bitter swell of fear filled her chest. She should leave. Whatever deal was going on in there, she wanted no part of it.

But it was after midnight and she had nowhere else to go, no friends to call. Her feet were burning-sore from her shift at the restaurant. She was sweaty, grimy, and exhausted, and all she wanted was a hot shower and her bed. It wasn’t as if her dad was going to invite her to sit in on his meeting, after all. Women were better seen, not heard, and preferably neither.

A mosquito buzzed at her neck and she slapped at it, grimacing. It was too humid a night to stand out here. The streets stank of garbage and her clothes stank of booze from where a customer had “accidentally” spilled his beer on her. She’d go in the back door, through the kitchen, and straight upstairs. Dad always used the front room for “business.” He and his guest would never see her and, more importantly, she’d never see them.

Her heart thudded as she walked past that car and through the back gate. The car was a perfect symbol of men like Mr. Red. Powerful and daring. Sleek and alluring. She hated it. Hated him.

The security light in the back garden had died weeks ago and her dad couldn’t be bothered to fix it, so Ally had to pick her way carefully over crooked and cracked paving stones on her way to the door. Add to that the tangle of overgrown grass encroaching on the crazy paving, and the garden was a death trap in the dark. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the door. That sigh turned to a strangled gasp when she opened the door and saw the scene in the kitchen.

Her dad, bent over the table. Some heavy in a cheap suit held him by the neck, squashing his face to the wood. Her dad struggled in vain against the bigger man’s grip while the thug stared into space, seeming utterly disconnected from his own actions.

Mr. Red sat at the table, a gun resting before him. He looked as he always did, dressed entirely in black apart from a bright red silk tie. His brilliant blue eyes were devoid of emotion as he watched Ally’s dad, but the way he tapped his fingers on the gun barrel betrayed just a touch of irritation. A dangerous thing in a man like him.

Ally froze in the doorway, as if it might make her invisible. Her dad spat her name in a weird mixture of panic and hope, and Mr. Red turned his gaze on her. She felt his stare like a physical touch, a pressure on her skin that made her shiver. He looked her up and down with no more interest than he’d show a wad of gum on the ground. And yet she still felt like he was assessing her, measuring her. She ducked her head, unable to stare back into those summer-sky eyes.

“Allegra, isn’t it?” he asked, voice soft and cool. “Little Allegra Rose Mosconi. What unfortunate timing.”

Ally glanced at her dad, who’d gone limp, eyes closed. Fear clutched her. “I don’t want any part of this,” she said, more to Mr. Red than him. “I can just leave, okay? I can just—”

“Do you know why I’m here?” Mr. Red cut in as if she’d never spoken. “Do you know what your father has done?”

She shook her head, chewing her lip. She couldn’t keep looking at her dad. His face was flushed scarlet and sweat poured off him. He wasn’t a brave man, she knew that. He never had been, and even the bravest man would lose their nerve in the face of guns and gangsters. So she didn’t blame him for being scared. Hell, she was terrified. But she blamed him for making all the choices that had led him here. Because no doubt he had done something fucking stupid, and now they would both pay the price. She knew that as well as her own name.

“He lost twenty grand’s worth of cocaine. Twenty thousand dollars, Allegra Rose. Do you even know what that much money looks like?” Mr. Red shook his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “So careless. How does one “lose” that much cocaine, Marco?” he asked her dad. “I have to admit, I have some questions about your story.”

“It was a mix-up!” her dad cried, his voice cracked and hoarse. “Just a mistake, a simple mistake … the guy … the guy…”

Mr. Red waved his hand and her dad fell silent, lips trembling. “How are you going to fix this mistake, Marco?” When he didn’t answer, Mr. Red turned back to Ally. “What do you think, Allegra? How can your father make this up to me? Twenty thousand dollars is a lot of money for a man like him.”

It was an impossible amount of money for a man like Marco Mosconi. He didn’t have the brains or the balls to rise higher in his chosen profession, and the only way someone made money working for men like Mr. Red was by being smart and ruthless. Her father was a worm. Ally wished she could hate him for it, but all she ever managed was pity.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, unable to bear the weight of Mr. Red’s gaze. “I don’t know.” At least he wasn’t talking about killing him.

“Perhaps he could sell something.” Mr. Red looked around the kitchen thoughtfully. “What do you have of value in here, Marco?”

Ally couldn’t help cringing. She kept the kitchen clean, but there was nothing she could do about the cracked tiles or the ever-dripping tap, or the cigarette smoke stains on the ceiling. The rest of the house wasn’t much better. There was nothing of value in here, absolutely nothing worth anywhere near twenty thousand dollars…

She felt her father’s stare before she saw it. Like Mr. Red’s, it had a weight of its own, but it made her skin crawl in a way Mr. Red’s hadn’t. When she looked at him, she saw that panic and hope in his eyes again, saw what desperation would make him say.

“No,” she said quickly, taking a step back and tripping on the doorstep. The door was still open. She could run. Run out into the hot, sticky night, where she’d trip on those crazy paving slabs and break her neck. A wave of nausea hit her. “No, Dad, please.”

“Ally.” He said her name like it was a charm, a magic spell. Full of pleading.

Mr. Red looked at her, feigning surprise. “Little Allegra Rose? Well. That is quite the offer, Marco.” He smiled, silky and poisonous.

So MR. RED is out next week - Thursday 15th to be exact - and I'm delighted to unveil the cover today! Without further ado, here's your first look at Mr. Red!

And to whet your appetite, here's the blurb:

When Ally Mosconi's father trades her in to his mysterious Mafia boss to pay a debt, Ally knows her life has changed forever. The man she calls Mr. Red is domineering, demanding, and utterly ruthless. She knows she needs to break free - but with her father's life in the balance, what can she do to challenge Mr. Red's control? And as she falls deeper under his spell, she begins to question exactly how much she wants to escape.

​~An Editor's Pick~

I hope you'll join me on Thursday for release day. I'm so excited to get this story out in the world!

​Hi all this is Raven’s alter ego, Kera Faire and my new book, The End Game. Book 3 in the Dark Isle series.
Kera is Raven’s dark side. Or as her bio says…
 
A Scottish-based author with the love of the unexpected, Kera writes stories to make your heart miss a beat. Living in the land of the spirits helps her to get in the right frame of mind and find light in the dark side of life.
 
Let’s hope you think The End Game does just that

A wee tease…

‘What sort of person accepts what’s going on and makes the best of it?”

“A horny one?” She laughed throatily. “And let’s face it, what else can I do? I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”

 That made him grin. “Yeah. So go on, sweet cheeks, what next?”

She bit her lip and looked pointedly at her ankles where her trousers and underwear were in a crumpled heap. “Take off my shoes and trousers for me and I’ll show you.”

 That seemed reasonable. Milo tugged and pulled where necessary until she was as near as dammit naked. Now he had a chance to look at her closely, he could see red patches where he’d rubbed his stubble over her soft skin. Her bra and t shirt were pushed up and her luscious breasts with puckered nipples called to him like a siren.

He traced one red patch gently. “Shit, sorry, I guess I was a bit rough.”

 She nodded. “Just a bit, but did you hear me complain?”

 Well, no, she has a point.

 Okay so what next? “Over to you, sweet cheeks. It seems you’re the one directing the traffic.”

“You better believe it,” she drawled and closed her legs. Disappointment stabbed at him, until he saw the speculative expression on her face.

“Pity, pet,” he drawled. “That was a great view.”

She dipped her head. “Not pet, I don’t bark or meow, just purr on occasion.”

 He laughed. “Sweet cheeks?”

 She sighed, very dramatically. “If you must. Put your leg either side of mine, not too close, lean back and think of Scotland.”
 “What?” Now he was puzzled. Excited, aroused, but puzzled.

 She tilted her head “Are you chicken, Sir?” She clucked and he burst out laughing.

“Nope. Okay.” He did as she bid and found himself with his cock between her feet before he had a chance to say ‘what’s next?’.

 Milo swallowed. “Ah and now?”

“Now this.” The soles of her feet encased his cock and slowly began to move up and down his hard length.

Milo swore his eyes crossed as she varied the speed and depth of her strokes. Why had this never happened before? Fucking hell her feet moved in such a way his pre-cum covered them within seconds.

Stroke, sigh. “Ah that is so good to do. Oh my. Better to fe… ah sweet jesus.” Somehow she’d nipped his foreskin between her toes, just enough to sting. “Bloody… sweet cheeks you’re killing me here.”

“No … not yet …  now more eh … like this…” Her words made little sense to him. Every fiber of his being was concentrated on those magic feet stroking his dick. Milo stopped thinking and let his climax roll through his overheated body.

He stiffened and she chuckled before tightening her hold on him, and he came in a roar. Cum spurted all over her feet, his balls and the grass beneath him.

“Sweet cheeks, you are a genius,” he said as soon as he had enough breath to speak. “I’ll never look at feet in the same way again.”

“I bet not.” Her toes tightened on him, and them she moved. “Sorry, Sir. I have no option.”

Milo didn’t even see it coming.

Okay! First round edits for MR. RED are done and back with my lovely editor. I'm not sure if there'll be a second round yet (as always, I managed to slip a few UK English-isms in that might not make sense to non UK-readers, but we'll see. Now we play the waiting game...waiting for cover art and a release date, mostly. Hopefully it won't be too long before MR. RED is unleashed on the world!

I'm now trying to decide what to work on next. I have two big projects in mind, one being Wild Blood MC #3, but I also have two short stories that I started earlier in the year and would love to finish. I'm in need of a palate cleanser after finishing my last big project, and a short story seems the way to go before launching into another novel. I love writing short stories, and both these have hooked my imagination in very different ways...So it's just a case of deciding which one to go with. One is a werewolfy romance, the other is a mafia/dark romance (though very different from MR.RED).

I thought the mafia romance would be the one, but when I read what I have of it so far, I realised this could easily spiral into a novella or even a novel, and I'm determined not to start anything huge unless Wild Blood #3 or Blood Canticles #3 (my next Naomi Clark project). So I think we're going with werewolves for now, which are generally my favourite thing to write anyway, so yay!

In the meantime, I've got Helen Rappaport's new book to read - Caught In The Revolution, and a bunch of autumnal/winter perfumes to make (and the free time to make them in), which all in all means I'm a pretty happy bunny right now. Can't ask for more than that!