I would like to take this time to tell you about a couple of things.  First, I have a free read on my website www.sloanmcbride.com.  It is titled Guardian Angel.  Please have a look, I think you’ll like Aidan, and while you’re there, sign up for my newsletter.  I am running a contest right now.  Second, my critique partners and I have started a new group called Sassy Scribes. We have a bunch of cool stuff on there and we are starting to schedule interactive critique workshops in different locations.  Jump over to www.sassyscribes.com and see what’s going on.  I think you’ll like the site.  If you would be interested in having the Scribes come do a workshop with a group or library near you, please sass us and give us information.  We’ll check it out.

I am also giving away a free download of “The Fury” today.  I will put everyone’s name who posts comments for both prizes and will pick them and announce them here tomorrow.

Allison Brody is psychically linked to a killer, and Special Agent Jake Austin is bound to catch him before she becomes the next to die.

She’d just left her archeology team at The Bistro. The back street had a couple of food places crowded with patrons and an occasional car drove by looking for a good parking spot. Music drifted from the pub on the corner every time someone opened the door, and two winos on the stoop were having a heated debate about fish.

She stopped at the corner before crossing the street. Even though this wasn’t the hub of the city, Friday night brought out its share of party-goers and drunks, those who would not be paying attention to a lone woman stepping into the street.

Something buzzed past her ear and the speed limit sign next to her pinged, as if being hit with a rock. Before she could react, a large male body flew through the air and tackled her to the ground.

Reese couldn’t breathe. Every rock-hard inch of him pressed against her. She struggled, but her arms were held tight by his well-muscled chest. Was she being mugged? Would he waste time lying on top of her if he were a purse snatcher? Oh,God! Maybe he’d drag her behind the nearest dumpster and rape her, then leave her lying in the garbage ravaged or dead.

With a rush of adrenaline, she vowed she wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Get off me!” She tried to scream but couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs with him lying on top of her.

“Are you hurt?” His deep voice whispered softly in her ear.

Was he kidding? “A total stranger jumped on me and is crushing me into the cold pavement,” she managed in staccato breaths.

His stubble scratched her cheek as he turned to look back the way she’d come from. Wicked chills congaed up her body.

She struggled again. “Get the hell off me!”

His jaw clenched as if he were warring with himself. Deftly jumping to his feet, he held out a hand to help her up. She grabbed it and he jerked her flush against his body with hard impact. Reese immediately stepped back but he still held her wrist. He reached down and picked up something from the street to examine it.

“Excuse me,” she said, jerking the wrist still in his grasp.

He ignored her.

Mr. Personality was tall, at least six-four, dressed in black jeans, a black turtleneck and a leather duster that barely reached his calves. He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones. In the dark, she couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but his body was lithe, solid muscle. He had a wild, dangerous look like Mel Gibson in the first Lethal Weapon movie.

“What is that?” She leaned closer to get a better look.

The stranger held some kind of dart between his fingers. “This is a melari.”

“A melari?”

Her attacker gritted his teeth and shoved the object in his pocket. “Come on,” he mumbled and started across the street, dragging her with him.

“Let me go,” she yelled and tried to disengage her wrist from his grip. She raised her foot to kick him, but he side-stepped it, and she almost toppled over because he kept moving.

“Stop fighting me, woman, unless you want to die.”

That statement hit her like arctic water on a winter day. “Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.

He stopped and glared at her. “I am not going to hurt you. I am here to protect you.”

He had a funny way of showing it. “Protect me from what?”

Exasperation laced his sigh. “From the death squad that’s after you.” He pulled the dart from his pocket and waved it in front of her face. “What do you think this is for?”

She narrowed her gaze on him. A hormonal surge of courage pumped through her veins. “I don’t know what that is, but the only thing I’ve seen threatening around here is you.” She couldn’t be sure but she thought she heard him growl.

An aura of danger surrounded him. He moved like a graceful predator, and oozed raw sexuality. Her mouth suddenly went dry at that thought. She needed to find a way to get away from this he-man. Her attacker palmed the object and hid it away.

The sound of a car backfiring jolted her. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her behind him. “Shit,” the stranger said and touched his hand to his shoulder. “Which one is your vehicle?”

Reese saw blood seeping into his coat. No dart caused that wound, someone was shooting bullets at them.

Another gunshot pierced the night and shattered the window of a nearby car.

She screamed.

The stranger turned to her. “Which one, dammit?”

“That blue one there.” She pointed to her Chevy Malibu.

Courage and strength poured from him along with his blood. They ran for her car, with him right on her heels. He grabbed the keys out of her hand. “Get in.”

“Hey!” she protested, until a dart whizzed very close, banging into the car door.

Without another word, Reese scrambled into the passenger side as he revved the engine to life. The minute she was in, he slammed his foot down on the gas and sped away.

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Ladies in chic gowns and gentlemen in fine evening attire gathered for the prestigious event, hosted by influential businesses in the community. The ball was an annual function designed to solicit money from well-to-do citizens while providing an enjoyable evening and exquisite dining. A polished dance floor provided the perfect atmosphere for people to step to the orchestra’s big band tunes.

White linen cloths draped tables while golden candelabras adorned with flowers and tapers cast a soft glow. There were ice sculptures and fountains spouting champagne to accent the ballroom’s lavender and blush rose decor. The best china and crystal were lavished with delectables.

Allison attended every year because her parents organized it and continued after their deaths because they’d enjoyed it so much. It made her feel a little closer to them. She and Kat sat with Sean O’Connor at a table close to the raised dais where the orchestra played. Despite the fact that she managed a leisurely bubble bath before preparing for the evening, Allison hadn’t been able to relax. The concentration that it took to suppress her abilities when around this many people robbed her strength to the point of exhaustion. Paul Kincaid had found her when he first arrived and had been wonderfully entertaining. She did her best to mingle.

Eventually, Allison managed to sneak away and headed for the fountain to refill her goblet, when her attention was drawn to a tall figure entering the ballroom. She concentrated hard so as not to trip over her own feet and kept her jaw tightly in place. Casually bringing the champagne to her lips, she advanced toward the door and an inevitable confrontation. Why did her pulse race and her heart drum so ferociously? How could she feel this way around Jake Austin?

The ribbed shirt he wore had crisp lines and gold cufflinks winked in the light. His dark hair stood out in contrast to the white collar it curled around. Tailored trousers hugged his muscular thighs and while her eye followed the satin stripe down the side, it show-cased his well-built physique. Her mouth watered and drooling was a definite possibility.

This had to be one of the most idiotic things he’d ever done. Surveillance meant observing, not interacting. He should have stayed away. To get up close and personal with Allison Brody drew him into unfamiliar territory.

It wasn’t hard to pick out the most beautiful woman in the room. A silky red off the shoulder gown allowed a tantalizing view of her tanned bosom. Her mahogany locks were fashioned off to one side and he followed the delicious line of her neck hungrily with his eyes. Gold flecks danced in her exotic eyes like fire, beckoning poor souls who dared to look deeply.

Jake straightened as Allison stopped a few inches from him. Her ruby red lips drew his gaze. “Good evening.”

“Good evening.” He bowed in gentlemanly fashion, keeping careful distance.

“What are you doing here?”

“Surveillance.”

Her bottom lip stuck out in a small pout and he wanted to grab her and tease it with his tongue. “You’re following me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what are you doing, exactly?” She stepped back.

Conveniently, the orchestra played a waltz. Holding his right hand out, he asked, “Would you care to dance, Ms. Brody?”

Composing the surprised look on her face, she replied. “Certainly,” and set her glass on a nearby table.

With Allison in his arms, Jake glided across the floor in perfect time with the music. They pirouetted in sync like music box dancers. His eyes stayed glued to hers, oblivious to those around them including Paul Kincaid, who quietly watched.

The cool evening had suddenly grown hotter. Allison slipped out to the terrace when the song ended. Jake had gone to get them a drink.

“Deep breaths,” she whispered.

Moonlight spilled over the tended garden. She watched the hedges shadow dance in the night. Allison drew the crisp misty air into her lungs. Her controlled, peaceful life had been disrupted and not one, but two dangerous men fought for her attention.

She felt Jake approach, stealthy, much like a panther zoning in on its prey. The air around them charged with sensual energy.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Jake whispered close to her ear.

She didn’t respond. Should she answer that question?

“Your skin tingles, your heart races.” He moved closer still, his silky voice tense. “It’s chemistry.”

“It’s more,” she breathed through trembling lips unable to face the intensity of him. The jolt to her system nearly knocked her off her feet. What was he doing to her?

“Body chemistry, pheromones.” He handed her the flute of champagne. “We’re two consenting adults.”

His flippant, totally male attitude ticked her off, but he was right. Body chemistry was definitely at work here. “How do you know I haven’t put a hex on you with a magical potion brewed in my cauldron?”

“Not likely since I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Do you have an explanation for everything?”

“Yes. Actually, I do. There’s always an answer. You just have to find it and accept it.”

Spinning around Allison slapped her free hand against Jake’s chest. “Very clinical, Agent Austin.” Her voice sharp. “It sounds as though you explain away everything you’re afraid of.” She curled her fingers in his shirt, her mouth a fraction of an inch from his. “Can you do that? Explain me away?”

Sweet Jesus. Jake knew he should walk away. His control slipped a notch. He yanked Allison flush against him. If he could be rough enough, scary enough, maybe she’d stay away from this case and him. Maybe he’d be able to fight the attraction toward her.

Too late. He kissed her. He gathered her thick hair and crushed his frantic, hungry mouth on those soft red lips. His tongue swept through her mouth that still tasted of sweet wine. Before she noticed his blatant hard-on, he pushed her away.

Scowling he said, “I don’t have time for this.”

At that moment, Paul Kincaid barged through the doors. “Oh, there you are, Allison.” He eyed Jake. “I thought you might like to dance.”

Kincaid couldn’t have missed her stunned, flushed appearance. She managed to find her voice. “I’d love to, Paul.” Allison placed her hand on his arm. “I was ready to come back in anyway.” She dismissed Jake without a glance.

Noninvolvement had always been a necessary condition in his line of work, a matter of survival. He cursed her for getting under his skin and clouding his focus, for giving him fantasies of another life. “Damn! What the f**k was I thinking?” Jake muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trouncing down the stairs. The surety of it was her every word beckoned him to certain doom.

Kara blinked trying to focus. Cold, stiff muscles spasmed in her back. How long had she’d been asleep? She stretched her arms overhead when realization hit. She was no longer in the confines of an airplane. “What the hell?”

A light mist coiled around slopes of purple heather. In the distance lay a body of water sheltered by cliffs, creating a beautiful backdrop. Fading twilight streaked through passing clouds and she sat on a gravel road with a severe wedgey and something sharp jabbing her butt.

“Holy hell.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. When she opened her eyes, nothing had changed. The strange weather caused the plane to crash and I’m dead. But if the plane crashed, wouldn’t I be injured and wouldn’t there be burning debris from the fuselage littering the ground? A vicious headache pounded at her temples. Shifting to her hands and knees, Kara braced herself before rising. As she stood, aches and pains wrestled through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, each vying for a place to settle.

She massaged her temples and closed her eyes again. “This isn’t happening.” She bit back a bout of hysterical laughter.

Steadying herself, she decided to take a look around. Strangely dressed people gawked at her. Some kids chasing a small dog ran past her so closely that she staggered to keep her balance. They giggled but kept on their hunt. The sweet smell of fresh elderberries tickled her nose as did a strong lavender scent from nearby bushes. She could hear murmured voices, a startled laugh, and a hawker announced some type of carnival or fair. More children raced around stands filled with woolen fabrics, apples, and what looked like raspberries.

She could see, hear, smell and feel pain—this couldn’t be a dream. No dream was this real and besides, everyone was staring at her. If it had been a dream, she would have fit in. Right?

No matter how she looked at it, she was still standing in the village common—freezing her ass off, with her underwear stuck in her nether regions and a bruised butt. Chills raced across her skin. The Boston Celtics t-shirt she wore offered little warmth. Not to mention, in her current attire, she stuck out like a red rose in a bouquet of white carnations.

Grand buckets of wood were ablaze. If only she could get closer to one of those, the fire would warm her. But, she dared not approach with so many gaping on-lookers which set her already shattered nerves on edge. Furiously rubbing her hands up and down her arms to generate friction and warmth, she searched for a hiding place, quickly finding there was none save the woods. At dusk, who knew what kind of creatures would be in there, snakes, spiders, bats—not the most pleasant thought.

Skulking away, casually drifting up the road so as not to draw any more unnecessary attention, Kara ducked into a thicket of trees, not venturing too deeply inward. Large pines towered above her and the smell reminded her of Christmas.

“What the hell am I going to do? Think, Kara.” Her brain had always been her best weapon against adversity. Okay, so her right hook had gotten her out of a few jams, but she’d been working on temper control.

Staying concealed, she crept closer to see and hear the gathering of people. One withered man with a hunched back and heavy accent argued the price of some kind of tool. An elderly woman wrapped in large squared tartan of blue, red and yellow strolled over to a wooden two-wheeled wagon covered in baskets, examining each with a critical eye. Others milled about the stands, all adorned in plaids. One stocky fellow wore his as a kilt, a woman had hers wrapped about her shoulders.

Kara’s grandfather used to wear his tartan on special occasions. He often spoke of the festivals in the old country and how much fun he’d had there.

She ducked back into the trees and slid down the trunk of one to the cold, hard ground, hissing from the bruise on her backside. “Scotland,” she murmured, massaging her temples. “How in God’s name did I get to Scotland?” You’re a scientist, figure it out. She studied rocks, volcanoes, gems—not physics. Time travel, space warps, magic, those weren’t her specialties. Where there are people, there are answers. “I hope. Reading those pages has caused my mind to conjure this place—again.”

The setting sun meant a rapid change in the air and the cool mist which earlier had been mysterious, now stuck to her exposed skin. She crept back toward the small field of merchant booths where villagers sold their wares. “Please, Lord, give me strength.” If she didn’t find a way to warm up soon, she worried about hypothermia setting in.

Kara searched for anything familiar in the landscape, in her memories of stories told to her by her grandparents. Nothing. Her stomach grumbled as she happened upon one family packing up their vegetables. She’d give up chocolate for a month if even one piece rolled off their stand unnoticed. Not likely.

Distracted by the merry folk, her rumbling belly, combined with not watching where she was going, Kara stumbled over a rather large rock and fell hard.

A horse whinnied.

She threw her arm over her face and screamed before the rider reined the animal in. The horse reared, its massive hooves kicking out at the air over her head. Its active forelegs landed a foot away and a figure jumped off the stallion and roared down on her.

“Bloody hell, woman, are ye mad, jumping out in front o’ me horse like that? You could’ve been killed.”

Kara lowered her arm and checked her body. I’m not trampled. Words caught in her dry throat, and her stomach flip-flopped as she gaped at the mountain of a man towering over her. His dark hair whipped around broad shoulders and his blue eyes burned with anger.

It was him, the dark giant who came to life in her dreams

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I just got back from taking one dog to the vet and the other dog to PetSmart to buy a kennel.  I’ve never had a female dog before and I’ve had dogs all my life.  She’s definitely a challenge.  I’ve never kenneled a dog before either….first female, first kennel.  And I’m telling you, these babies are as expensive as your children.  I’ve decided these are the last for me.  The kids will be grown and out on their own by the time I eventually lose these two (which will be hard enough).  Then it will be down to me and my husband.  That will make him happy (not that he’ll be happy to get rid of the kids…LOL, just all the money woes).

Well I have to run out again but I’ll be back.  I hope to hear from some of you.  I’d love to give away a prize or two today.

www.sloanmcbride.com

Best,

BLURB FOR THE FURY:

Reese Whittaker dreams of falling for a man who shares her love of archeology and ancient civilizations. But being attacked by a horde of demons and rescued by a Sumerian God—a well-armed, gorgeous Sumerian God—opens up a whole new world she never knew existed. And awakens a mysterious power within her that attracts all kinds of supernatural attention.

Dagan, son of the Air-God Enlil and a Time Walker, is sworn to protect the human race in general, and one young woman in particular—Reese. He’s not the only one mysteriously attracted to her powerful life force. Underworld leader Kur craves it for the untold power it will give him to strike a blow at the deities of Dilmun.

Dagan is forbidden by law from interacting with Reese, but from the moment he sees her, the fury—an intense sexual need for bonding—blinds him to all the rules. Should the pantheon discover he has fallen for a human, the punishment could mean suffering beyond imagining for him…and death for her.

From the Heavens comes a hero who will take your breath away.

Anyway let’s get started.

Hi, I’m Sloan McBride, a teller of tales, a weaver of stories, and a dreamer who hopes to delight you with my wit today. No guarantees, but I’ll do my best. I write paranormal romance, romantic suspense, and time travel…..so far. Been writing all my life, but it wasn’t until ten years ago when I started writing adult novels for publication. I’ve sold my first three books in the last two years and they are all close to my heart. I’ll be here in the morning, but the afternoon and evening, I’ll be popping in and out as I have “life interruptus” duties. I will be giving away three gifts, so please visit often and ask me questions or just interact. I’m happy to be here.

www.sloanmcbride.com