Length: Story | Rating: Erotic | Publisher: Reissued Backlist
Themes: Werewolves, Hot Techies, Erotica, Werewolves in Heat

FREE AT BARNES & NOBLE
FREE AT ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS
(epub, pdf & mobi/prc formats available)

For those of you who may not know about the series, we recently reissued them with new covers at a reduced price.  Each story is a stand alone erotic story about a paranormal character with a supernatural sex problem meeting the person who can help them fix it.  They’re short, they’re dirty, they’re occasionally campy, but they’re always edged with a little bit of romance and end happily-for-now.

So if you’d like to try something short, sweet & spicy, have a free taste.

And now we get to reissue them with new covers at affordable prices, and that makes me super excited!  Wheeeee!  (Because of their length–30-35 pages each–and the fact that they’re backlist reissues, we settled on $0.99 each.)

Hope y’all are enjoying the last few days of 2011. Look out 2012!

It’s Donna’s birthday, today! Woooohooo!  We’ll be celebrating by taking it easy today, and in our usual tradition, by giving away some books.  Because that’s what birthdays are all about.  (Isn’t it?)

Look! Lots of Ebooks!

AND DON’T FORGET…THESE ARE FREE FOR ALL:

It’s easy to enter! Leave a comment, say happy birthday to Donna, and tell us which ebook you’d like to win.  And if you want a freebie while you’re here, grab one. Or five. Or nine!

EDIT: WINNERS HAVE BEEN POSTED IN THE NEXT POST! Comments are now closed.

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-lastcallkamikaze-11722-139.html

The book doesn’t appear to be free on the page, but if you add it to your cart you’ll get an Earth Day discount! If you’re willing to help share the word, feel free to steal the graphic or the cover or anything else you’d like to steal!  Free books are awesome! Yaaaaay free books!

]]> http://moirarogers.com/blog/archives/2180/feed 8 http://moirarogers.com/blog/archives/2171 http://moirarogers.com/blog/archives/2171#comments Thu, 01 Apr 2010 15:24:11 +0000 Bree http://moirarogers.com/blog/?p=2171 That’s right! Thanks to Changeling Press and All Romance Ebooks, next week you can get a little taste of hacker werewolves up to naughty things for FREE at All Romance Ebooks!  I’m telling you now so maybe some of you will consider helping me spread the word next Monday.

All you’ll need to do to get the free book is sign up for an ARe account, which you should be doing anyway because we’re not the only book free this month. In fact there’s one free today (it doesn’t look free, but if you add it to your cart, you’ll see the $6.10 discount for Earth Day!) and there’ll be a new free book every day until the 21st!

So get ready next week, and if you’re willing, maybe help me spread the word on Monday, April 5th.  Because I love free books!

Kamikaze

Length: Story | Rating: Erotic | Publisher: Changeling Press
Themes: Shapeshifters, Werewolves in Heat, Hot Techies

Read a (SO NOT SAFE FOR WORK) Excerpt of Kamikaze

Zoe Bennett needed to fuck someone.

It was a rather shocking reality, one that alarmed her as she slipped through Last Call’s crowded dance floor. Being alarmed by it didn’t make it easier to ignore, however. Goosebumps rose on her skin every time a stranger brushed against her. If that stranger happened to be a fellow werewolf — a male werewolf — her nipples tightened and she had to fight off a shudder of pure need.

She needed it tonight. Her fingers clenched around the menu she’d picked up from next to the door, creasing it as she finally broke free of the writhing mass of bodies clogging the dance floor. She needed it, and nothing — not shyness, not her natural inhibitions, nothing — could stop that need. Not now.

Three wide steps from the floor led up to the low platform that held the main attraction of Last Call: a long, slightly curved bar with fifteen stools and a wide corridor behind it. Three more bars crowded against the other walls of the large room, but this was the bar. The bar where the drinks were incidental.

The seats never stayed filled for long. Now they were empty except for the left-most stool, which held a young man with pale skin and sharp looking fangs that he flashed whenever he laughed. His companion, a duskily tanned young woman, leaned closer and ran her tongue along his ear as Zoe watched.

Zoe shivered and set her foot on the lowest step. Nervousness rose, but the need burning in her pushed her up to the second one.

By the third step she could feel the curious stares on her back. She ignored them and closed the distance between herself and the smooth mahogany of the bar. Her hands shook a little as she slapped the menu down and sought the bartender’s eyes. “I — I have an order.”

His skin was the same color as the bar, and his smooth, shaved head gleamed under the low light. A small, high-tech looking headset curved over his head, something that looked like it might serve as a microphone as well. He smiled at her and nodded to the crumpled menu in front of her. “On or off the menu?”

“On.” She smoothed the menu out and turned it over, her gaze sliding down the list of specials. Last Call house drinks, each with its own meaning. Its own message. And there was only one message she had for the men of the bar tonight. Take me if you can. “Kamikaze, please.”

He nodded and reached up to tap the side of the headset he wore. His strong, deep voice cut in over the music, filling the bar and attracting the attention of most of its patrons. “Last call for the lady in black. Kamikaze, coming up.” He released the button and winked at her as the music resumed its previous volume.

Zoe slid onto the stool at the far right of the bar and struggled not to look at the dance floor as the bartender made a show of mixing her drink, a process so impressive it bordered on performance art. It made a good distraction, one which gave her an excuse not to turn around and watch the crowd behind her. She could feel the male werewolves approaching, and their sudden, intense interest made her skin tingle.

Tradition declared that no one approach her before she had her drink. Zoe ignored the appraising stares and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her menu again. The back was a neat list, divided into sections. Vampire, werewolf, witch, fae? Plain black type delineated the various clientele of Last Call, along with the “specials” peculiar to each kind. She slid her finger down the page, past the bold Werewolf heading until she found kamikaze.
Werewolf in heat, looking for a temporary mate.

***

Connor stared at the woman on the dais and frowned. He wasn’t exactly a Last Call regular, but he’d been in often enough to know she wasn’t the type of woman who usually patronized the bar’s more exotic services.

She was wearing blue jeans, for one thing. Not a low-riding pair of designer ones, either. Serviceable jeans, faded by wear and not fashion. Her T-shirt was similarly styled — understated and solid black except for the letters “PEBKAC” across the front. He grinned. Problem exists between keyboard and chair.

He rubbed his thumb over his beer bottle as his eyes followed the curves of her body. She wasn’t rail thin. Instead, she had the kind of body a man could wrap his hands around. The kind he had no trouble picturing bent over in front of him. And she needs a mate.

No, he told himself. You’re here to update the security software. Do it and get out.

Men were already gathering near the base of the steps, drawn by the lure of a female in the clutches of her mating instinct. They looked tense, hungry; ready to compete for the pleasure of a woman who needed sex, whose scent would be an aphrodisiac to any male werewolf.

She shifted nervously on the stool, her eyes drawn to the small knot of men who were poised, waiting for the bartender to deliver her drink. She knew she’d be pounced, he could see it in her eyes as they darted around the room. She’d be chased.

He wondered, perhaps with a bit of jealousy, who would catch her.

Her gaze clashed with his, and Connor raised his drink in salute.

She blushed. She actually blushed as she turned away and stared at the counter again. The bartender returned, her drink in hand, and Connor could see the tense set of her shoulders as she watched him place the glass in front of her. Her hands shook a little as she slid her credit card across the counter and accepted a small, magnetic key to one of the upstairs rooms in return.

More than just the werewolves were watching her now. A kamikaze almost always guaranteed a good show, no matter how shy or plain the woman. She seemed to feel the pressure as she wrapped her fingers around her drink. She lifted it to her lips and hesitated for a heartbeat.

Then she drank the entire thing in one gulp. Someone in the crowd cheered loudly enough to be heard over the music, and someone else let loose a piercing catcall.

Connor watched as she hastily shoved the key in her back pocket and shot off the dais and away from the men gathered around it, disappearing into the crowd. She was either very nervous– or she wanted the chase.

He found himself moving toward her, cursing himself with every step.

Whoever was in charge of the music had a sense of humor. He was still five feet away from her when the upbeat pop song changed, bled into a savage industrial song with a primal bass rhythm.

She was watching him when another man stepped up behind her and slid an arm around her waist. She stiffened and whipped her head to the side, her snarl just loud enough to be heard over the music.

The man backed off but another slid in beside her. She ignored him, her gaze still locked with Connor’s. Her new suitor took her lack of response as encouragement and hooked a hand over her hip.

That earned a reaction. She spun around and snarled again, taking a step back when she realized three men had gathered behind her. She might be nervous, but Connor had no doubts now that the competition excited her.

The voice in his head protested. He ignored it and reached into her pocket, plucking out her key. He held it in front of her as he bent close to her ear. “Do you want to go upstairs with one of them, or with someone who knows what the geeky slogan on your T-shirt means?”

She stepped back against him, molding her body to his. Her ass rubbed against his cock as she shimmied a little in time with the music. “Dance with me.” Her hand came up and snatched the key away, and she shoved it into her front pocket this time as she ground back against him.

He set his beer bottle on a table at the edge of the dance floor, not caring that it was occupied, and wrapped his hands around her hips. “What’s your name, Kamikaze?”

“Zoe.” She hitched in a breath and slid her hands over his, and he could feel the barely leashed need in her, already threatening to boil over. She gasped as she rubbed back against him again, and when she spoke, it was a low and breathless. “What’s your name?”

“Connor.” He thrust against her ass and she drew a sharp breath. “Do you really want to dance?” He trailed his lips over her neck and nibbled at the soft skin.

One of the men to the left growled a soft challenge. Zoe twisted in his arms and pressed against him, and he felt those gorgeous breasts rub against his chest. “Three days,” she panted in a hoarse voice. “It started three days ago. Can you make it stop?”

“Jesus, sweetheart.” Three days of the kind of clawing desire that would accompany her heat cycle? He shook his head and squeezed her ass with both hands. “Might take a miracle, but I will do my level best.”

Today’s theme: Living it Up! What sounds more like living it up than Last Call, the bar people go to in order to live it up?  Today I’m using the first 650 words of Kamikaze but I should warn you–they get dirty. Fast.

* * *

Zoe Bennett needed to fuck someone.

It was a rather shocking reality, one that alarmed her as she slipped through Last Call’s crowded dance floor. Being alarmed by it didn’t make it easier to ignore, however. Goosebumps rose on her skin every time a stranger brushed against her. If that stranger happened to be a fellow werewolf — a male werewolf — her nipples tightened and she had to fight off a shudder of pure need.

She needed it tonight. Her fingers clenched around the menu she’d picked up from next to the door, creasing it as she finally broke free of the writhing mass of bodies clogging the dance floor. She needed it, and nothing — not shyness, not her natural inhibitions, nothing — could stop that need. Not now.

Three wide steps from the floor led up to the low platform that held the main attraction of Last Call: a long, slightly curved bar with fifteen stools and a wide corridor behind it. Three more bars crowded against the other walls of the large room, but this was the bar. The bar where the drinks were incidental.

The seats never stayed filled for long. Now they were empty except for the left-most stool, which held a young man with pale skin and sharp looking fangs that he flashed whenever he laughed. His companion, a duskily tanned young woman, leaned closer and ran her tongue along his ear as Zoe watched.

Zoe shivered and set her foot on the lowest step. Nervousness rose, but the need burning in her pushed her up to the second one.

By the third step she could feel the curious stares on her back. She ignored them and closed the distance between herself and the smooth mahogany of the bar. Her hands shook a little as she slapped the menu down and sought the bartender’s eyes. “I — I have an order.”

His skin was the same color as the bar, and his smooth, shaved head gleamed under the low light. A small, high-tech looking headset curved over his head, something that looked like it might serve as a microphone as well. He smiled at her and nodded to the crumpled menu in front of her. “On or off the menu?”

“On.” She smoothed the menu out and turned it over, her gaze sliding down the list of specials. Last Call house drinks, each with its own meaning. Its own message. And there was only one message she had for the men of the bar tonight. Take me if you can. “Kamikaze, please.”

He nodded and reached up to tap the side of the headset he wore. His strong, deep voice cut in over the music, filling the bar and attracting the attention of most of its patrons. “Last call for the lady in black. Kamikaze, coming up.” He released the button and winked at her as the music resumed its previous volume.

Zoe slid onto the stool at the far right of the bar and struggled not to look at the dance floor as the bartender made a show of mixing her drink, a process so impressive it bordered on performance art. It made a good distraction, one which gave her an excuse not to turn around and watch the crowd behind her. She could feel the male werewolves approaching, and their sudden, intense interest made her skin tingle.

Tradition declared that no one approach her before she had her drink. Zoe ignored the appraising stares and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her menu again. The back was a neat list, divided into sections. Vampire, werewolf, witch, fae… Plain black type delineated the various clientele of Last Call, along with the “specials” peculiar to each kind. She slid her finger down the page, past the bold Werewolf heading until she found kamikaze.

Werewolf in heat, looking for a temporary mate.

* * *

Check out other snippets here: Eliza Gayle, Jody Wallace, Kelly Maher, McKenna Jeffries, Michelle M Pillow, Moira Rogers, S. J. Day, Sasha White, Shelley Munro, Taige Crenshaw, Vivian Arend, Lauren Dane

It’s contest central around here this week, but that’s okay. I love giving away prizes, and today we’ve got a good one! Leila Brown has donated $75 in Restaurant.com gift certificates, and Donna & I are throwing in a few copies of the previous Last Call books. So it’s a give-away bonanza!

First off, for those of you who have never heard of the series, the Last Call books are short, wicked erotica tales that are all about supernaturals finding that special someone (or someones) who can help them ease their otherworldly needs.

We had fun writing the stories, but more than once we were asked if we’d ever throw the series open and let other people write them. It was an interesting idea, so earlier this year we did just that. The result is Last Call Europe, serving up paranormal fun on a new continent!

Leila Brown wrote the very first of the Last Call Europe books, bringing us a naughty tale of leprechauns!

There are two ways to enter the contest. The first is to buy a copy of Irish Creme. We’ve arranged with Changeling Press to secure a 5% off coupon, good for your entire order. So to enter the contest (and to save money!) use the coupon code IrishCreme when checking out, and your name will be tossed into the virtual hat five times.

The second way to enter is to reply to this post and tell us which of the existing Last Call books you’d most like to win. You can find blurbs for all of the Last Call New York books by clicking on the covers above, or visiting the series page. So tell us which book strikes your fancy, and you just may win a copy! (You have to pick one, though–no saying you’d like to win all of them or I’ll know you didn’t read the rules. See how tricky I am?)

Contest runs through July 15th, and winners will be announced around July 20th. So fire up your browsers and have fun!

I picked three winners to win their choice of the existing Last Call stories:

Cheryl McInnis

Amy Hopkins

Lynda

Please visit the Last Call page and send me an e-mail (bree@moirarogers.com) with the title you’d like to have and the format (PDF or HTML) you’d like to have it in!

And don’t forget to hop on over to my first Rockin’ Heroine post and chime in for a chance to get your own copy of my favorite book I read last week. 

So how will the Last Call Europe stories differ from the originals?  Well, different authors, for one.  And more variety.  I don’t think it’s a secret that Donna & I love our werewolves, and a good number of our Last Call stories had at least one werewolf in it.  Leila Brown is busting the top off, though, and kicking us off with a couple of Leprechauns!

Ciarran, an Irish traditional witch, has had her luck stolen by vindictive Leprechaun. Without her luck everyday life has become a trial. And her spells are more like miss-spells. There’s only one thing to do. Go to the Last Call Bar and order up the right drink.

Irish Crème: Only the extremely lucky need apply. Make it a Double!

Decllan and Niall came to Last Call to relax on the one night a year they get together. Neither of them expected they’d end up spending the night with an out of luck witch who needs their help. Luckily they’re up for the job.

In the later part of the month we’re going to organize a contest to celebrate the kick-off of the new series, where you can win fun gift-certificates to restaurant.com as well as backlist copies of the original Last Call books.

Heck, why not start today. For your choice of the Last Call books reply to this post and tell me what supernatural creatures you’d love to see in a Last Call story! (Bonus points if you think up a drink name to go with it!)  A couple random repliers will get the Last Call ebook of their choice.  (You have through the end of the weekend!)