Really happy to welcome Tara Quan today, sharing some very sexy excerpts from her book Feline Valentine
A year ago, I
released Fireworks at Midnight, thinking I would leave the world of A
Witch’s Night Out forever (I’d
planned the series as a trilogy). Unfortunately, my characters had other plans.
Since I’d sicced Madame Eve on her cat familiar, earth mage Shelley Dupree
insisted I make things right. To be fair, I’d already given her a magical
handicap, forced her under house arrest, and buried her in bills—taking away
her feline companion did seem a cruel and unusual punishment.
It took me two
months of fictional time to even the scales with Feline Valentine. Part of
Decadent Publishing’s 1Night Stand series, my interracial paranormal romance is
set in Washington, D.C., where magic-wielding folk try to live alongside us
pesky humans. It’s my first true “shifter” AND “foodie” romance (talk about
ticking two boxes with one book), and a quick read of the blurb should tell you
what I mean.
To celebrate
this unexpected return to my favorite series, I’m giving away a $15 gift card. To
enter, leave a comment here and drop your details at my website: http://www.taraquan.com/felinevalentine.
Feline Valentine (A Witch’s Night Out) by Tara Quan
Under magical
house arrest in her great-grandmother’s suburban cottage, college graduate and
reluctant earth mage Shelley Dupree whiles away most mornings spying on the
warlock next door. Though erotic daydreams offer some distraction, she faces
long working hours, cash flow problems, and a repeat burglar. On Valentine’s
Day, she sets a trap for the mysterious intruder, intent on ending his crime
streak once and for all. But her scheming cat familiar foils her best-laid
plans, and, with a little help from Madame Eve’s 1-Night Stand service, she
discovers a far more dangerous species of magical feline.
After moving in
next to a ramshackle building on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., pastry chef
Adrien Chatdurois is plagued by repeat sexual fantasies starring the same curvy
brunette. In a state of constant arousal, he devotes his early mornings to
grueling exercise and spends the rest of his day handcrafting the city’s best
chocolates. When his younger brother stirs up trouble on the shop’s busiest
day, the frustrated shifter is forced to pay a surprise visit on his reclusive
neighbor. He soon learns not all witches are wart-covered hags, and one in
particular might prove the most delicious of desserts.
Genre: Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, Interracial/Multicultural
Buy Links:
Excerpt 1 (PG)
Her doorbell
rang.
An ominous
crack followed the box’s impact with her yellowed kitchen floor. Sweat dampened
the back of her neck. She must have imagined the sound. Her doorbell had been
broken for weeks—months even. She’d taped a scribbled sign telling food
delivery people to leave items on the porch. No one other than her family ever
visited.
Everything,
including the array of curiosities in front of her, must be part of a
hallucination brought on by prolonged celibacy. Sweets wouldn’t dare sic Madame
Eve’s service on her. Everyone Shelley knew who’d used it had—
Ding dong.
Okay, she could
fix this. She’d meet the guy and tell him to scram. No way could the
matchmaker’s mojo work in less than five seconds.
Muttering
curses under her breath, she marched past the counter, through her makeshift
office, and across the small living space, to stop in front of the thick wood
barrier. Peepholes hadn’t been in vogue back when this place had been built.
Since she hadn’t bothered to switch out the bulbs after the porch lights died,
she couldn’t have discerned more than shadowy shapes regardless.
Pulling her
shoulders back, she summoned her inner bitch. She had to run the guy off.
Failure would end in disaster. Acting rude and obnoxious was a matter of
determination, persistence, and effort.
She swung the
door open.
The warlock
next door stared back at her.
Her next breath
erupted as a cough. “F—udge cakes.”
As opening
lines to Shelley Channeling the Shrew
went, she could have done better. She blamed her parents. No matter how many
times she’d thought, read, and heard four-letter expletives, she couldn’t shake
the ingrained childhood habit of modifying them for polite company.
It didn’t help
that the man had a brown cake box sandwiched between his waist and left arm.
Responding to the stimuli, her stomach had short-circuited her brain and
demanded sustenance—ideally, in the form of fudge cake. Her gaze dropped to the
bottle clasped in his hand. She’d had a champagne craving since this morning.
Her hunky
neighbor’s green eyes had widened to a comical degree. Perspiration beaded his
forehead. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. When his mouth opened, no sound
came out.
What did he
have to be shocked about?
Of course, only
now did it occur to her she could have pretended not to be home. Just because
someone rang the doorbell didn’t mean she had to answer.
It would be so
rude not to, her goody-two-shoes inner voice who sounded suspiciously like her
mother countered. I raised you better.
As she
contemplated slamming the door, an act that met with immeasurable resistance
from the metaphorical angel on her shoulder, her neighbor croaked, “It’s you.”
As first exchanges
between potential soul mates went, this might be one for the books.
At least the
guy came with more than one bribe. A covered plate of chocolate-dipped
strawberries balanced precariously on his other palm. Her gaze drifted over his
bare forearm and along tensed biceps. The short sleeve of his red T-shirt
accentuated his muscle definition.
Her mouth
watered. Her gluttonous heart did a little flip. She couldn’t settle on what
tempted her more—the food or the warlock.
Excerpt 2 (PG-ish)
Adrien finished
slotting the tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries into the case’s most
prominent spot. In honor of Valentine’s Day, he’d drawn a Cupid’s bow on each
fruit using melted white chocolate. Beaming a proud smile at the appetizing
array, he made a mental note to drop off any remainders on his next-door
neighbor’s porch after closing time.
With the notion
came a sudden compulsion to also send a bottle of bubbly. Rolling his shoulders
to relieve the tension in his fatigued muscles, he tentatively added champagne
to the shopping list. If today’s profits met expectations, he should be able to
gift the old lady some booze.
Less than a
second later, an image of a bottle of peach Schnapps flashed over his vision.
Stepping to his left, he took off the wool hat and placed it next to the cash
register. Why was his brain fixating on ingredients for a Bellini? He didn’t
even like cocktails.
White heat
flashed over his vision. He found himself on his knees, crouched over a soft
feminine body. Fizzy, bubbly liquid slicked skin the color of caramel. When her
back arched, the drink sluiced over a set of tensed, quivering abs to soak her
lacy pink waistband. He dipped his head, his tongue trailing over the potent
mixture of peach, alcohol, and woman. He dug his fingers into her lush hips,
tilting her in the opposite direction so the remaining liquid trickled over her
ribs to catch along the underwire of her bra. Capitalizing on the excuse to
taste, he—
Fingers snapped
repeatedly in front of his face. “Oy. Where the hell did you go?”
With a sigh, he
directed his gaze at his sibling. “Bass, what the hell do you want?” Their
two-year age gap allowed for a healthy dose of fraternal bonding, but a
lifetime as the man’s big brother had also built up baseline cynicism. Sebastien’s
unannounced visits tended to have odd and oftentimes very expensive
consequences.
Excerpt 3 (R-Rated)
“Stop hogging
the binoculars. It’s my turn to ogle the warlock next door.”
Ignoring the
high-pitched whine, Shelley Dupree zoomed in on a pair of sweat-slicked pecs. A
prolonged spying session on her new neighbor seemed the perfect cure for
Valentine’s Day doldrums. Though Dulcina, her best friend and cat familiar,
could turn into an absolute pest when thwarted, the reward for tuning out her
incessant requests superseded all risk. After all, Shelley needed to stock up
on copious amounts of drool-worthy imagery. How else was a single witch on
house arrest supposed to while away the most romantic night of the year?
Prolonged
sexual frustration had long since warped her brain, part of the reason she
couldn’t tear her gaze from the delicious male specimen on the other side of
her crumbling wall. As she watched the man execute a strict pull-up over his
doorjamb, her lips tingled. She imagined trailing them over his lightly tanned
chest, pictured herself tracing those rippling muscles with slow, sipping
kisses.
Her tongue
darted to wet the corner of her mouth as she envisioned sliding her hands under
the waistband of his red workout shorts. She’d fuel his arousal with teasing
strokes before catching the fabric between her teeth and yanking the garment
off.
His body
lowered, filling her magnified view with a visage stunning enough to choke off
her next breath. Thick fringes of sooty lashes framed dreamy, moss-green eyes.
His pale skin darkened to a rusty hue as he sped up the repetitions. Glistening
with perspiration, midnight curls clung to his sharp, slanting cheekbones. An
overlong forelock snaked down to graze his pronounced nasal bridge.
With his lips
pursed and eyes narrowed, the intense, menacing expression he wore added fodder
to her prolonged sexual fantasy. She could almost feel his coarse chest hair
rasping her chin and cheeks, taste salt as she explored the expanse of taut,
supple flesh. Her pulse raced, her erratic heartbeat a warm flurry over each
fingertip.
As if by magic,
his waistband slipped down his hips, sending his shorts pooling to his ankles
before they dropped to the floor. Entranced by the unexpected striptease, her
attention zeroed in on his penis. Even from afar, the warlock didn’t
disappoint.
With a
contented sigh, she imagined tracing the ridge, swirling her tongue over the
long, thick shaft before taking the engorged tip into her mouth. While she
contemplated the way he might taste, deep grooves formed between his thick
brows. His full, sensuous lips flattened into a grim line.
She closed her
eyes and ventured deeper into the familiar daydream, a moan catching in her
throat as his erection slid back and forth over her flesh. Instead of the
binocular’s cold metal chilling her hands, the toned, flexing ass she’d always
admired warmed her palms and fingers. She took him deeper, until she could
almost feel the head brushing the back of her throat. A hoarse, masculine groan
echoed between her ears when she hollowed her cheeks and—
“Meow!” A
quintet of sharp claws swiped down her calf, the sudden pain shattering her
erotic fantasy.
Spinning
around, she nudged at the brown, shorthaired cat with her toe. Her friend must
really want attention if she’d resorted to shifting into her hated feline form.
A familiar stockpiled more magic as animal than human, so the amount of time
her companion spent coughing up fur balls around the house directly correlated
with the accuracy of her premonitions.
For whatever
reason, the witch preferred to keep the future at bay.
“Damn it,
Sweets.” She tapped her foot on the diabolical cat’s head. “Scat. If you don’t
stop bugging me, I’ll tell your boyfriend you’ve been gawking at another man on
a daily basis.”
Arching her
spine in a sinuous stretch, the feline stuck out her tongue.
Excerpt 4 (R-rated-ish + Extended)
Since she’d
removed the plastic wrap but had forgotten to eat, Adrien reached over and
brought a strawberry to her lips. Shelley stared at him for a long moment. With
a shrug and a grin, she swirled her tongue along the chocolate before clamping
her teeth over the fruit. Biting off a chunk, she drew back and licked her lips
clean.
Shifting his
stance, he tried to focus on anything but the blood rushing to his groin. He
hadn’t thought his jeans could get any tighter. He’d thought wrong.
The activity in
the kitchen screeched to an abrupt halt.
She studied him
through lowered lashes. “What? Is something wrong?”
Two could play
this game. Caging her between the counter and his body, he brushed his fingers
over her upper arm and along her neck. When she tilted her head to the side, he
lowered his head so his lips grazed her earlobe. Grinning when her breath
caught, he reached around her, his arm missing her breasts by a millimeter as
he wiped her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “You missed a spot.”
Her skin
darkened to the color of milk chocolate. Though he couldn’t wait to find out
how she tasted, he mustered enough self-control to return to the task at hand.
The sooner he fed the witch, the sooner they’d shift to more delicious
activities. “Keep eating. I don’t need another tantrum on my hands.”
“Oonn ieet.”
As she polished
off the strawberries, he whisked a pair of eggs in a separate bowl before
combining his two mixtures. He placed a small container of butter in his palm.
A few seconds later, it softened and melted. Shifters generated far more body
heat than humans or elemental mages, which came in handy since his host’s
microwave seemed to have been rescued from a 1980s Dumpster.
Soft footsteps
approached him from behind. “Can I help?”
He turned,
glanced at the empty plate on the counter, and answered her sheepish grin with a
smile of his own. “Feeling guilty?”
“You’re not off
the hook, or anything.” Her cheeks darkened. “But my temper might have been a
bit more…explosive than usual. I’m sorry I punched you in the face, but you’re
not forgiven for acting like a horny asshole.”
“I kind of am
horny thanks to—” He managed to shut his mouth before allocating part of the
blame to her vivid sexual fantasies. “Erm…. Anyway…. All is forgiven. Blood
sugar dips make women’s moods go haywire. When paired with my lack of
filter…let’s say there’s a reason I learned how to cook.”
Her nose
wrinkled. “I’m pretty sure male moods are affected by hunger as well.”
“Yes, but we
tend to prioritize filling our stomachs over most other tasks.”
Finding an
empty patch of counter space, she seated herself and watched as he finished off
the batter with freshly grated orange zest. “Do you always say what you think?”
“Yup. It’s a
hazard.” Covering the bowl with plastic wrap, he placed it in her fridge to
rest. “Then again, there’s no point getting someone to dig a fake version of
me.”
He turned in
time to catch her rolling her eyes. “You might want to give them some time to
warm up.”
“Oh, stop
pretending. You like me. Admit it.”
She looked him
up and down. “I hate to break this to you, but while I might think you’re hot,
your attitude leaves much to be desired.”
He worked on
the oranges and lemons for the sauce. “What’s wrong with my attitude? Here I
am, slaving away to put food on the table—”
She snorted.
“What? It
literally describes what I’m doing. And what about the repairs I did before
finding out what you looked like? All my altruism has to count for something.”
He floated a pan over to the stove and started melting some sugar and butter.
The distinct smell of caramel soon filled the kitchen.
Rolling her shoulders,
she arched her back. The stretch puffed out her chest, and his physical
reaction almost made him lose control of his telekinesis. He’d never met a
female so unaware of the gorgeousness of her boobs. At this rate, he risked
permanent damage to a very important body part.
An idea hit
him. With a slow wave of his finger, he sent melted sugar into the air,
allowing it to cool for a moment before directing a slow stream toward the
witch. When she opened her mouth, he deliberately dripped the caramel over her
chin and down her neck before bracketing her body with his.
“What”—her
voice turned husky—“are you doing?”
“Snacking.” He
ran the tip of his tongue from the base of her throat, up the column of her
neck. The sauce’s smoky sweetness lingered as he followed the sticky path to
her mouth.
When he caught
her lower lip between his teeth, her fingers trailed up his forearms to clench
over the sleeves of his shirt. He sucked, teased her with light nips until she
sighed and melted against his chest.
She tilted her
head back, and he took it as permission to devour. Hidden under layers of
chocolate and strawberry, he discovered his personal addiction. He pushed her
further, forcing her to meet him stroke for stroke.
“This is a bad
idea,” she murmured between sipping kisses. “Madame Eve isn’t any old dating
service.”
“I don’t care.”
He circled one arm around her waist and pulled. Her thighs parted, the counter
height positioning her for his taking. He ground his tented fly between her
spread legs, relishing her soft moans as she hooked her ankles behind his back.
Lifting a hand
to fondle her breast, he pumped his hips. His quest for relief only aggravated
his arousal. He channeled his mounting frustration onto her neck, leaving
hickeys as he nibbled his way to her collarbones. Pulling down her hoodie’s
zipper, he marked the swells of silky skin then tugged at her neckline so he
could explore.
When he lifted
his head to examine his handiwork, he found her flushed and panting. Each
labored breath lifted her plump breasts, their perfection marred by his dark
brands. The rush of possession brought an indescribable high, the cat in him
recognizing what neither human seemed ready to admit.
“Your clothes,”
Adrien rasped. “Take them off.”
“You first.” A
split second before Shelley surrendered to temporary insanity, the sharp crack
of breaking glass yanked her from the brink. Cursing her wayward hormones, she
jumped off the counter and headed for the back door.
With a rumbling
curse, Adrien grabbed her upper arm and swung her behind him, using his much
larger body as a shield against the harmless kitchen exit. “Stay inside. I’ll
handle—”
“Oh please.
It’s my house. All you’ll do is stumble around the backyard half-blind. I’ve
got this.”
Spinning on his
heel, he gaped at her. “You’re seriously pulling a women’s lib moment on me
now?”
“Yup.” She
pointed at the stove. “Finish the dessert like a good househusband while I deal
with the break-in.”
About the Author
Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, Tara enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, paranormal worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Her characters, armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after.
To receive updates about her new releases and get a free sexy read, subscribe to her mailing list at www.taraquan.com/newsletter.
To receive updates about her new releases and get a free sexy read, subscribe to her mailing list at www.taraquan.com/newsletter.
Twitter https://twitter.com/LaylaTarar
GoodReads https://www.goodreads.com/taraquan
Pinterest http://www.pinterest.com/taraquan/
Thannks so much for having me over!
ReplyDeleteYou're so very welcome!
Delete