It’s a one-two release day punch for us! The ebook release of Cipher, book #4 in the Southern Arcana series, and the print release of Building Sanctuary, which contains A Safe Harbor & Undertow.

Let’s just get started on the fun, huh?

 SOUTHERN ARCANA #4 – CIPHER

Length: Novel | Rating: Hot | Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Themes: Shapeshifters, Badass Alphas, Dominance Games, Evil Plots Need Foiling, Guns & Explosions, Hot Techies, Psychics, Psychics (Empaths), Shapeshifters (Wolves), Supernatural Politics, Witches & Wizards, Shapeshifters

* * *

BUILDING SANCTUARY NOVELLAS #1 & #2 IN PRINT

Print Versions
Amazon, Book Depository, Amazon.de, Barnes & NobleA Safe Harbor& Undertoware also available for individual purchase in ebook format.A Safe Harbor

Joan was turned against her will, but now that she’s part of a pack she’s determined to protect all its women. Even if that means joining forces with a witch and a vampire–and leaving the comfort of Boston.

Escorting some female wolves to safety should have been easy for former bootlegger Seamus, but their leader, a prim ex-debutante with power to match his own, challenges him in every way. Before they can build a future, though, they must free themselves from the past…and a powerful man who’s out to teach her a lesson she may not survive.

Undertow

Harsh experiences prepared Victor for anything–except resisting Simone, a young refugee who rouses his inner wolf. The last thing he wants is to be just the next man who uses her.

Once adrift, Simone is fired by the chance to broker peace between werewolves and European wizards. Yet her instincts–the same ones that led to trouble before–keep drawing her back to Victor.

When a storm traps them together during a full moon, she breaks through his walls so easily the question is no longer how Victor will stay away, but how he’ll let her go…

* * *

It’s a pretty awesome day, all told. Thanks to all of you who have read our books and supported us for all this time.  We hope you enjoy the books! 

And now we have another one!  This is the cover for the print collection containing A Safe Harbor and Undertow, so those of you who have been waiting for those stories in print, this summer is your time!

Wheee! And I think it is a nice representation of the two novella stories…

This cover and the Wilder’s Mate cover are timely, because February is when we’re working on the sequel to Wilder’s Mate and the third book in the Building Sanctuary series!  Now I feel all motivated and excited and inspired. 

Donna and I didn’t set out to write historicals.  Not that I don’t enjoy reading them, because I do.  But I respect the work and research that goes into them a great deal, and when you’re already juggling the rules of a world you created and have to keep consistent, adding another layer of difficulty feels a little bit like going from juggling toasters to juggling steak knives.

So why did we do it?  Well, that’s where the story took us.  While we were writing Sanctuary Unbound we had to spend a bit of time fleshing out Adam’s history.  Where he knew Gavin from, and what debt could be so great that it would drag him out of seclusion after eighty years and convince him to drive across the country with Joe and his trunk full of explosives.

The more we talked about it, the more we liked the idea of explaining just how the wolves became so messed up in our contemporary storyline.  What event in the past was devastating enough on a country-wide level to set the natural order on its head and give power to the wrong people?

Well, we had our answer: the Great Depression.  Even alpha wolves need to eat, and money could buy status and loyalty that strength might not.  And we wanted to write about it, and write about the first wolves who said no to the new world order and decided to create a sanctuary town.

Werewolf romance novellas set in 1933 are probably not the most in demand market, but our awesome editor Anne Scott took a chance, and so we have two quirky little Great Depression werewolf romance novellas.  A Safe Harbor goes on sale today, and Undertow goes on sale October 12th.

Thanks to Anne Scott and Samhain for letting us follow our story wherever it took us, even if it’s to an island off the coast of Maine in 1933.

“A Safe Harbor ” by Moira Rogers

Buy from MBaM!
Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Paranormal Romance, Historical Romance

ISBN: 978-1-60928-137-3
Length: Novella
Price: 3.50
Publication Date: July 13, 2010
Cover art by Angie Waters

A bootlegger will save her life. A debutante will steal his heart.

Building Sanctuary, Book 1

Joan Fuller enjoyed a privileged life—until her wealth and connections garnered her the wrong sort of attention. Her rejection of a textile heir’s proposal comes back to bite her when he turns out to be a werewolf on the prowl for a mate.

She may have been turned against her will, but now that she’s part of his pack she sets out to protect all its women. Even if that means joining forces with a witch and a vampire—and leaving the comfort of Boston.

Former bootlegger Seamus Whelan has cleaned up his act, but when his old partner Gavin comes to him for help, he can’t say no—no matter how deadly the threat. Escorting some female wolves to safety should have been easy, except their leader is a prim ex-debutante with enough power to challenge Seamus himself.

Her courage captures his interest, and her first hesitant kiss ensnares his heart. But before they can build a haven for their kind, they must free themselves of the past—and the powerful man who’s out to teach her a lesson she may not survive…

Warning: This novella contains a rakish werewolf bootlegger forced to join forces with a teetotaling ex-debutante as they fight epic battles, engage in criminal activities and eventually give in to inappropriate passion on a kitchen counter.

Digital Versions
Books on Board, Amazon, My Bookstore & More

* * *
EXCERPT
* * *

“Doesn’t look much like a vampire’s lair.” Victor’s voice held a steely thread of tension.

And it was no wonder—the man loathed vampires as much as most wolves despised wizards. “This must be the place,” Seamus told him. “Not another house for miles.”

“How desperate would you have to be to leave a pack for this?”

“Fairly damn desperate.” That easily described most people these days. Relief rolls were jam-packed and hundreds of thousands had taken to the roads, traveling in search of work. “Gavin didn’t say what the circumstances were, but he did say he trusted the vampire. That’s odd for him.”

“Gavin Hamilton’s always made odd friends.” Victor’s eyes narrowed as they neared the house. “The place is damn big. You sure we brought enough cars?”

Gavin’s words came back to him. You’ll need three cars, maybe four. It’s a mess, Seamus. I—I can’t explain right now. “We’ll muddle through.”

“We always do.”

“We’re driving a handful of people, that’s all. No cargo, no risk.” A lie, and they both knew it.

The drive consisted of two dirt ruts worn through the grass, and Seamus navigated it slowly. “Maybe you should all wait for me out here. Less chance of trouble.”

“Don’t like the idea of you facing off with a vampire with no one at your back.”

“Gavin didn’t mention Adam Dubois being the problem here.”

“Vampires are always the problem, when you get down to it.” Victor turned, presenting a hard profile as he stared out the window at the untamed mess of a front yard. “But it ain’t these girls’ fault that no wolves stepped up to do their duty and protect them. I don’t care how hard times are, every wolf in Boston deserves a thrashing.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Seamus parked the car. “We’ll soon see what’s going on, though.”

The porch steps creaked as he climbed them, and he bypassed the plain brass knocker in favor of pounding his fist on the door. Paint flaked off, and he watched it drift to the boards underfoot.

A woman opened the door, her skirt hiked halfway to her hips and blood drying into a sticky mess in her dark hair. She also had a rifle pointed at his chest.

Pulling his own piece seemed like a bad idea, so he murmured an apology, raised both hands and stepped back. “Hope I’ve got the right place. Gavin’s expecting me.”

Her gaze raked over him. She might be disheveled, but there was no mistaking the prissy superiority in her eyes as she tightened her grip on the weapon. “He said he was expecting a friend.”

“Aye, that’d be me.” He arched an eyebrow. “Is he around?”

“He’s out back.” The barrel of the rifle wavered and dipped toward the ground. “Are you Mr. Hamilton’s business associate?”

The truth would horrify someone like her. For that reason alone, he took great pleasure in giving it to her. “We used to run the streets together, back in the day.”

Her lips pressed into a severe line, disapproval etched in every line of her stiff body. “Of course you did.”

“Joan, if that’s Whelan, let him in.” The masculine voice drifted in from the other room, not Gavin’s familiar brogue but a thick New England accent edged with dark power. The vampire. Joan’s expression tightened, but she pivoted abruptly and stalked deeper into the farmhouse, clearly expecting him to follow.

“You boys stay on the porch,” Seamus called back. His companions didn’t need to be told again, but it might put the skittish woman more at ease. “I’ll talk to Gavin, see what’s what.”

The house was dark, even in the afternoon sunlight, but it wasn’t quiet. Soft moans of distress drifted down the halls and through the walls. Joan’s footsteps thumped unevenly, and the scent of fresh, hot blood trailed after her. “You’re hurt. Who else is?”

“I’m fine,” she said, the words brittle enough to break. “There are twelve others. Seven are hurt, two badly.”

“Wolves?”

“All of us. Except for Adam, obviously.”

“When?”

The answer was too long coming, which meant she knew just how bad it sounded. “A few hours before dawn.”

Unless she’d had her leg damn near ripped off, she should have been well on her way to fine already. “What in hell did you people tangle with?”

She turned again, holding her ground in spite of injury and obvious exhaustion. “What did Mr. Hamilton tell you?”

Not enough, not yet. “Where is he?”

Joan took a step back and nodded toward the door. “Out back. One of the new wolves panicked and can’t shift back. I’m too drained to help her.”

The back door hung slightly ajar, and Seamus pushed through it. He spotted Gavin immediately, a large gray wolf standing, alert, while a smaller wolf paced anxiously around him. He didn’t yield, but he didn’t push, either. As soon as Seamus stepped into the yard the female yipped and sidled away, darting to put the bulk of Gavin’s body in front of her.

Fear hung in the air, thick enough to choke a human, and underneath it the smells of blood and lead and powder, evidence of a vicious battle. The wind shifted, bringing with it the whisper of shoes on the grass behind him—and the scent of the vampire.

He stepped up next to Seamus and watched Gavin begin the careful process of soothing the agitated wolf. “That’s Ingrid. She’s sixteen and three months changed.”

Too young. Seamus could still remember the first few bewildering months after his own transformation. “And not by choice?”

“Choice.” Adam made the word sound bitter. “She was a poor girl seduced into a life she couldn’t understand. And after he’d had her enough times for the shine to wear off…”

No one who hadn’t experienced the change could understand, and hearing the vampire speak as though he had the authority to do so raised Seamus’s hackles. “Who are you to decide what people understand and what they don’t?”

The vampire had a laugh like sandpaper against stone. “Didn’t Hamilton tell you? I’m their alpha.”

Seamus snorted and lit a cigarette. “He said something to that effect, but you don’t smell like a wolf to me.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters now is that these people need to get to safety, and Gavin says you and your boys can make it happen.”

He sounded defensive but worried. As quickly as that, Seamus’s ire died. “We can. It depends, some.”

“On?”

“On who you’ve got after you and your pack.”

The vampire sighed, and Seamus knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “Edwin Lancaster.”

Even living under a rock wouldn’t save a man from knowing the name. Wealthy and influential, both in human and wolf society, Edwin Lancaster was heir to a textile fortune…and a spoiled ass who got everything he wanted.

“What’d you—” He bit off the words with a curse, suddenly sure what Adam Dubois had done to anger Lancaster. “Who is it? The girl inside, the one with the limp?”

Adam didn’t answer at first. He watched Gavin, who had gotten the anxious, confused wolf calmed enough to drop to the ground. Her small body trembled as a soft, tentative tendril of power uncurled, gentle enough to mark her as a weaker wolf.

At that first tug of magic, Adam and Seamus both turned their backs. “A lot of the women here are Lancaster’s discarded playmates. He likes them young, impressionable and submissive.”

It was the last way Seamus would have described the woman who’d stuck the business end of a rifle in his face. “If he tossed them, what does he care? You gather them up and…what? It makes him jealous?”

“I’m a vampire,” Adam replied, his voice weary. “I’m told it’s instinct. I suppose that’s one of those things I won’t ever understand.”

“Also wrapped up in the fact that he’s a self-centered asshole, I’m guessing.” Seamus tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. “You don’t throw away things you care about. And if you don’t care about them, you don’t deserve to have them.”

He could feel the heavy weight of the man’s blatant appraisal, but before he could respond a shaky female voice rose behind them. “A-Adam?”

Adam pulled his shirt over his head without hesitation. “It’s okay, Ingrid. You’re safe now.”

Silence, except for the soft slide of fabric against skin and the girl’s nervous, too-quick breaths. Then, “Are the others back?”

“Soon,” Adam murmured. The girl seemed reassured, but Seamus could hear the lie.

Gavin stepped close and laid a hand on Seamus’s shoulder. “Can we speak?”

They walked away from Dubois and the girl, and Seamus took a deep breath. “What was she talking about, Gavin? The others? Are there more wounded?”

He hesitated. “Captured.”

“Damn.” Seamus shoved both hands through his hair. “You’re going after them.”

“Yes, me and Adam.”

“Don’t you need me and the boys? We can find someone else to—”

“No.” Gavin spoke sharply. “You take Joan and the others, and you get them to safety. They need a chance to heal.”

“Why aren’t they now?” Frustration colored his voice, but he couldn’t help it. “What in hell is going on?”

“Blood bonds,” his oldest friend whispered hoarsely. “Adam has them, after a fashion, with all his followers. Some of them are in trouble, others need to get to safety, and you need to not ask so damn many questions.”

He’d known Gavin Hamilton for years, had run with him in the streets of New York. Somehow, they’d avoided the gangs and the trouble that came with them, and always managed to stay a step ahead of whatever law they were breaking.

He trusted Gavin.

Seamus clapped a hand to his friend’s back. “Tell me what I need to do.”

* * *

There was no time for a proper bath, though the polished tub stood empty with its shiny new pipes gleaming and a freshly washed stack of towels beside it. For some of the girls, the ability to twist a knob and fill the tub with hot water had been a luxury more magical than the fact that they changed to wolves with every full moon.

Those were mostly Edwin’s girls. Girls so poor they’d never known anything but heating pot after pot of water to fill a tub a bit at a time, if they were even that lucky. She had to credit the man with some cunning—he’d been very sure to pick girls unlikely to be missed. Orphans and farmers’ daughters and maids who would be assumed to have abandoned their drudgery in favor of running off with a man. Oh yes, Edwin chose well.

Most of the time.

Joan sighed and did her best to ignore the tub as she stripped the torn, bloodstained dress from her body quickly but carefully. Even if there had been time to immerse herself in hot, clean water, she couldn’t have. Simone had just changed the bandage wrapped around the wound on her calf, and it still hadn’t healed. Instead Joan had stitches holding her skin together while sluggish power stirred inside her.

Not enough. Not nearly enough, and fear clawed inside her as she tried not to imagine what it could mean. The bond with Adam would take what it needed to keep their people strong, but it had never drawn so much from her before, never felt like a noose around her neck. She was the most powerful wolf. Her magic fed the pack, fed everyone.

Including the wolves left to Edwin’s surely untender mercies.

Every heartbeat increased her weariness, until exhaustion weighed so heavy that even simple chores seemed insurmountable obstacles. She fumbled with the knob for the hot water, then hesitated. Their supply wasn’t endless, and it might be needed for more important things before the day was done. Gritting her teeth, she twisted on the cold water instead.

Autumn had come early to Massachusetts, and washing the blood from her hair wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. It had dried into a tacky, sticky mess, tangling around her fingers until she wanted to scream with frustration.

By the time the water ran clear, she was shivering in just her undergarments. She tucked one of the thick towels around her body and used another to rub at her hair, bracing herself for the fact she still had to wash her face, arms and neck in the icy water.

“You need some help.”

Joan barely bit down in time to hold back a startled noise as she spun and found herself looking into gentle blue eyes. It was the new man, the one who’d come to speak to Adam’s friend. Nothing should have made her so oblivious that she disregarded the sound of footsteps in the hallway, which meant she had left weary behind and careened into recklessly exhausted.

But not so exhausted as to tolerate a man staring at her with such blatant appraisal. She gripped the towel and tried to summon her fiercest glare as she pretended his words had been a question instead of an arrogant, presumptuous statement. “I’m fine. Please close the door behind you.”

“We’re going to be working together.” He stepped into the bathroom and, indeed, shut the door behind him. “That means we need to talk.”

She’d seen women sporting dresses that bared more skin than her towel, but it didn’t make her feel less naked. The press of his power didn’t help—he was clearly a strong wolf, one full of rough, edgy dominance that stirred the wolf inside her with unrestrained curiosity.

She had to get rid of him. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. If you or the men you brought need anything, you can ask Simone. She’s in the kitchen.”

“We had a lovely conversation.” He smiled suddenly, not a grin or a smirk, and it transformed his face from hard to boyishly handsome. “She told me to come talk to you.”

Of course she had. Humans might judge authority by gender or age or social standing or money, but wolves only cared for power. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-four and female, that she’d lost her inheritance and any hope of being accepted or respected by polite society. She had raw power, so she was in charge.

The heaviness of her responsibility settled over her. Soon she’d slide to the floor under the weight of it, crushed beyond repair.

His smile slipped away. “Are you ill?”

“No.” She didn’t have the luxury of giving up, not until they were safe. And if the man refused to leave, she’d just wash in front of him. Modesty seemed foolish when they could all be dead before seeing another dawn.

So she turned on the water again, just enough to wet a washcloth, then set to work on the blood smeared on her forearm. “I don’t believe Mr. Hamilton told me your name.”

“Seamus.” She could see him in the mirror, his brown hair falling over his forehead as he leaned against the wall. “Gavin told me there’s some sort of spell draining magic and keeping the wolves here from healing. You said earlier some are hurt worse than you?”

“A few. Mostly the men.” And though both of the survivors had fought hard, they’d been weaker wolves. Wolves who had come to Adam afraid they wouldn’t be able to protect their mates from the roving eyes and covetous urges of the Boston alpha and his inner circle. Adam had given them safety…for a time. “The attackers weren’t trying to kill the women, just capture them.”

If it shocked him, he didn’t show it. “Everyone has to be moved. We’re loading up in cars and heading closer to the coast.”

“To hide.” She rinsed the washcloth and stepped closer to the mirror to wipe away the blood streaking her face. There were scratches too, and at least one shallow cut on her shoulder that had healed to a thin pink line. “Adam’s trying to break the bonds we have with him. As soon as he figures out how, the others should begin healing again.”

“Not a moment too soon.”

No. Probably too late, but Astrid had cast the spells, and without her, Adam struggled against a lack of knowledge and a deficit of power. “He’s doing his best. We all are.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Seamus stepped toward her. “Now it’s partly my responsibility too.”

The bathroom was too small to make the press of his power anything but too intimate, especially in her current state of undress. She met his gaze in the mirror and put the punch of her remaining energy into it. “How much have Adam and Mr. Hamilton explained to you?”

“Enough.” He reached over her shoulder. “Let me.”

“No!” The word escaped on a surge of panic, and exhaustion had clearly made a fool of her because she didn’t realize he wasn’t reaching for the towel or her body until his fingers closed around the washcloth.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his face in the mirror as she let him take the cloth. “As you might imagine, we’re all unusually high strung.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I was being careful.” The water ran, and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Joan drew in a steadying breath and wished she hadn’t. With him so close, his scent overwhelmed everything. It was masculine, uncompromising, smells she associated with the type of men she’d never had much to do with before Adam. Sweat and dirt and liquor and the lead and gunpowder that meant he had a weapon on him, and underneath all that the indefinable something that said wolf.

* * *

Digital Versions
Books on Board, Amazon, My Bookstore & More

ETA: All copies have been given away.  Emails were sent on 6/29. I wish I could have given one to everyone, but I could not!  Thanks everyone for stopping by, though. 

With July 13th just around the corner, I’ve gathered up a few more digital reader & review copies of A Safe Harbor to divvy up.  I have both–copies for review blogs and copies for readers–but I have a certain number of each.  So if you’d be interested in a copy, just reply here and let me know if you want a copy as a reader or a reviewer!  I’ll be sending them out sometime next week. 

(Note: it is not necessary to have read the Red Rock Pass series before trying this one.  After all, these books take place 80 years before the Red Rock series starts!)

Length: Novella | Rating: Hot | Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Themes: Shapeshifters, Witches & Wizards, Badass Alpha Men, Supernatural Politics, Vampires, Shapeshifter Dominance Games, Historical

(Sorry, at this time I do not have print copies. Digital only!)

1. There’s a new review of Sanctuary (Cry Sanctuary & Sanctuary Lost in print format) over at Strictly Reviews. The reviewer, Emily, said something I really loved: “While Cry Sanctuary is all about the alphas and what it means to be strong, Sanctuary Lost is about recovering from trauma and relying on the strength of someone else, and how that’s okay too.” That gave me a goofy little grin, since I secretly agree.
2. I have a (not remotely complete!) collection of reviews for Sanctuary Unbound floating around. If you’d like to know what people think, check out: SmexyBooks, FictionVixen, Everybody Need a Little Romance, The Book Binge, Book Addict, or the very first review (that I saw): I Do Not Want to Wait, I Want the Book Now. (My google-fu is not so badass this morning, though, so maybe there are more out there!)
3. Tuesday Dube’s sweet-ass cover for Sanctuary won Reader’s Choice for April print covers over at the Samhain Cafe, which means it’ll be a finalist in the Samhain yearly awards.  (The cover Anne Cain gave us for Crux was a winner in January, if I’m remembering correctly, which just goes to show that we get some badass cover love from Samhain. <3 As always, my eternal thanks to Tuesday, Anne, Amanda & now Angela, who have given us so many pretty covers!)
4. A Safe Harbor is available to pre-order at Books on Board!
5. And Sanctuary Unbound is on sale all over the place now: My Bookstore and More, Amazon, Books on Board, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble
6. There are now 49 blogs participating in our kindle contest! Go and comment for your chance to enter, or post your own blog and make it a round 50!

And finally, our big excitement! As announced in this month’s Samhain Newsletter, Cry Sanctuary will be free on Kindle & Nook from June 15th to June 28th.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love giving away books, so the chance to (essentially) give away an unlimited number of them fills me with GLEE!

When the date in question rolls around I’ll be posting some links & code & images and such, and anyone who’s willing to help us out by spreading the word will have my undying gratitude.  Cuz, hey. Free! Freeeeee!

Man, we have so many pretty Samhain covers on our page. I think I need to post them all. JUST BECAUSE.

Cover by Angie Waters

Oh beautiful day!  Sanctuary Unbound is now on sale, and here is the beyootiful cover for the novella it spawned.  Angie Waters is clearly a cover genius, because it is not easy, I’m sure, to get instructions that go something like, “Well, it’s a paranormal romance. Set in 1933. With werewolves. And the heroine is a débutante but also she could kill you. Really.  Maybe even with her bare hands.”   (Ha!  Not in this cover…with her pretty gloves she’ll leave no evidence!)

This novella was fun (but challenging!) to write.  We did not sit down and say, “Let’s write a historical! What could it be about?”  We had a story to tell, and it happened to take place during 1933.  The present day corruption seen in the Red Rock Pass series can be traced back to 1929, so we didn’t have a lot of choice in time period.

In less than six weeks, on July 13th, you’ll be able to find out what events so traumatized our vampire lumberjack that he spent the next eighty years hiding in the woods.  (If I hadn’t already gotten him his happy ending while writing this novella, I would have had to go write it that second.  Poor Adam.)

Blurb & Excerpt here!

Welcome to our newest crazy blog shindig! This one is a little different than anything we’ve done before, so make sure you read the directions closely. We’re not just trying to get people to comment on our blog for this contest…we want the epic battle to be fought on multiple fronts!

Sanctuary Unbound goes on sale tomorrow (or today, if you shop at My Bookstore & More!) and A Safe Harbor goes on sale July 13th. The former features a badass vampire lumberjack. The latter, a devious werewolf bootlegger.

The obvious question is: well, who has the potential to be the awesomest?

We want YOU to decide! And if you fight for your side valiantly, you could win a kindle, or one of several gift certificates to the online bookseller of your choice. (You don’t need to be familiar with the characters to fight…you may pick a side based on the theoretical awesomeness of vampire lumberjacks and werewolf bootleggers. In fact, creativity is encouraged.)

So how does this blog battle work?

Step One: Bloggers/Journalers Only

Choose your side! At the end of this post you’ll find graphics and code. Pick one of the headers (vampire lumberjack or werewolf bootlegger) and post it on your blog with a link back to this post, the disclaimer text, and an explanation of why you picked that side. (The more crazy, off the wall and entertaining, the better.)

Important: Once you’ve made your post, come back here and leave a comment with a link. That’s important for step two!

Step Two: Everyone

As people leave comments, I’ll be updating this post with a list of participating blogs. Visit other people’s posts and leave comments, agreeing or disagreeing! Fight for your side! Not only will you get a chance to visit different blogs, but the more blogs you visit, the better your chances of winning.

And how do you win?

Step Three: VICTORY!

On June 14th, I’ll make a list of all of the blogs and how many comments are on each one, and use a random drawing to pick one comment to win the kindle. The owner of the blog holding the winning comment will also get a $50 gift certificate to the online bookseller of their choice. (If the winning comment belongs to the blog owner, a second random number will be picked to decide an alternate winner for the $50.) We’ll also have a few digital books & one or two autographed books to give away!

PARTICIPATING BLOGS

Leaving a (meaningful!) comment on any of the following blog posts will enter you in the kindle contest. You are encouraged to visit as many posts as possible!

1. fictionvixen.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
2. wickedlilpixie.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
3. smexybooks.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
4. paranormalhaven.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
5. simpleloveofreading.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
6. literaturelyspeaking.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
7. mizadventurez.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
8. flightintofantasy.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
9. leilanilovesbooks.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
10. kindlevixen.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
11. nancyg1950.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
12. intensewhisper.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
13. cattheredreaper.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
14. blackraveneroticcafe.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
15. book-faery.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
16. googlebrat.livejournal.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
17. thebookbinge.com: Team Werevamp Lumberlegger (She’s a cheater!)
18. skyla11377.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
19. insanehussein.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
20. reenajacobs.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
21. diana-book-of-secrets.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
22. ellzreadz.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
23. loveromancepassion.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
24. vampsrus.blogspot.com: Team…Werewolf Bootlegger?!?! (I’m shocked!)
25. braintasia.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
26. myspace.com/sasluvbooks: Team Vampire Lumberjack
27. kilanowski.us: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
28. literaryescapism.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
29. visonarydruid.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
30. bookloverandprocrastinator.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
31. wordsrollon.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
32. secretsecretcloset.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
33. lilumsrealm2.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
34. norarobertsismyqueen.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
35. stella-exlibris.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
36. lifeaccording2nicole.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
37. kindleliciousreads.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
38. hlflutterflysreview.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
39. mamakittyreviews.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
40. jeanette8042.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
41. devinharnois.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
42. thedowdybookdork.wordpress.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
43. bookaddictpatti.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
44. cherrymischievous.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
45. sweetvernalzephyr.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
46. mariecarlson.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
47. sweepstakesbox.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
48. book-savvy.blogspot.com: Team Switzerland (I just made that up. HA!)
49. elisajankowski.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
50. thebookvixen.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
51. teenagegossipguy.webs.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
52. goodchoicereading.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
53. aliseonlife.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
54. amysmith98.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
55. jacobsbeloved.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
56. olsonden.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
57. mybookaddictionandmore.wordpress.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
58. kishazworld.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
59. thefictionenthusiast.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
60. j-rabbits-corner.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
61. sapheyerblu.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
62. bookcrazyscrapbookmama.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
63. denzramblings.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
64. busymomswholovetoread.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
65. seductivemusings.blogspot.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack
66. melissawatercolor.blogspot.com: Team Werewolf Bootlegger
67. vvb32reads.blogspot.com: Team Switzerland
68. bookworminginthe21stcentury.com: Team Vampire Lumberjack

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Below you’ll find images & code for linking! Use one of the header images in your contest post. If you want a sidebar image to lure visitors to your comments, feel free to snag one of the sidebar pics!

Disclaimer Text:

This post is a part of Moira Rogers’ Creature Feature Kindle Throwdown Contest. By leaving a (meaningful) comment, you will be entered to win a Kindle from Amazon.com, or an alternate grand prize of $275 to spend at an online book retailer. For a full list of rules and more ways to win, visit the contest page.

Link back to this post: http://moirarogers.com/blog/archives/2261

But for now, the official blurb & excerpt are up on Samhain’s coming soon pages!

“A Safe Harbor ” by Moira Rogers

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Historical Romance

ISBN: 978-1-60928-137-3
Length: Novella
Price: 3.50
Publication Date: July 13, 2010

A bootlegger will save her life. A debutante will steal his heart.

Building Sanctuary, Book 1

Joan Fuller enjoyed a privileged life—until her wealth and connections garnered her the wrong sort of attention. Her rejection of a textile heir’s proposal comes back to bite her when he turns out to be a werewolf on the prowl for a mate.

She may have been turned against her will, but now that she’s part of his pack she sets out to protect all its women. Even if that means joining forces with a witch and a vampire—and leaving the comfort of Boston.

Former bootlegger Seamus Whelan has cleaned up his act, but when his old partner Gavin comes to him for help, he can’t say no—no matter how deadly the threat. Escorting some female wolves to safety should have been easy, except their leader is a prim ex-debutante with enough power to challenge Seamus himself.

Her courage captures his interest, and her first hesitant kiss ensnares his heart. But before they can build a haven for their kind, they must free themselves of the past—and the powerful man who’s out to teach her a lesson she may not survive…

Warning: This novella contains a rakish werewolf bootlegger forced to join forces with a teetotaling ex-debutante as they fight epic battles, engage in criminal activities and eventually give in to inappropriate passion on a kitchen counter.

A Safe Harbor

Copyright © 2010 Moira Rogers
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Chapter One

“Doesn’t look much like a vampire’s lair.” Victor’s voice held a steely thread of tension.

And it was no wonder—the man loathed vampires as much as most wolves despised wizards. “This must be the place,” Seamus told him. “Not another house for miles.”

“How desperate would you have to be to leave a pack for this?”

“Fairly damn desperate.” That easily described most people these days. Relief rolls were jam-packed and hundreds of thousands had taken to the roads, traveling in search of work. “Gavin didn’t say what the circumstances were, but he did say he trusted the vampire. That’s odd for him.”

“Gavin Hamilton’s always made odd friends.” Victor’s eyes narrowed as they neared the house. “The place is damn big. You sure we brought enough cars?”

Gavin’s words came back to him. You’ll need three cars, maybe four. It’s a mess, Seamus. I—I can’t explain right now. “We’ll muddle through.”

“We always do.”

“We’re driving a handful of people, that’s all. No cargo, no risk.” A lie, and they both knew it.

The drive consisted of two dirt ruts worn through the grass, and Seamus navigated it slowly. “Maybe you should all wait for me out here. Less chance of trouble.”

“Don’t like the idea of you facing off with a vampire with no one at your back.”

“Gavin didn’t mention Adam Dubois being the problem here.”

“Vampires are always the problem, when you get down to it.” Victor turned, presenting a hard profile as he stared out the window at the untamed mess of a front yard. “But it ain’t these girls’ fault that no wolves stepped up to do their duty and protect them. I don’t care how hard times are, every wolf in Boston deserves a thrashing.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Seamus parked the car. “We’ll soon see what’s going on, though.”

The porch steps creaked as he climbed them, and he bypassed the plain brass knocker in favor of pounding his fist on the door. Paint flaked off, and he watched it drift to the boards underfoot.

A woman opened the door, her skirt hiked halfway to her hips and blood drying into a sticky mess in her dark hair. She also had a rifle pointed at his chest.

Pulling his own piece seemed like a bad idea, so he murmured an apology, raised both hands and stepped back. “Hope I’ve got the right place. Gavin’s expecting me.”

Her gaze raked over him. She might be disheveled, but there was no mistaking the prissy superiority in her eyes as she tightened her grip on the weapon. “He said he was expecting a friend.”

“Aye, that’d be me.” He arched an eyebrow. “Is he around?”

“He’s out back.” The barrel of the rifle wavered and dipped toward the ground. “Are you Mr. Hamilton’s business associate?”

The truth would horrify someone like her. For that reason alone, he took great pleasure in giving it to her. “We used to run the streets together, back in the day.”

Her lips pressed into a severe line, disapproval etched in every line of her stiff body. “Of course you did.”

“Joan, if that’s Whelan, let him in.” The masculine voice drifted in from the other room, not Gavin’s familiar brogue but a thick New England accent edged with dark power. The vampire. Joan’s expression tightened, but she pivoted abruptly and stalked deeper into the farmhouse, clearly expecting him to follow.

“You boys stay on the porch,” Seamus called back. His companions didn’t need to be told again, but it might put the skittish woman more at ease. “I’ll talk to Gavin, see what’s what.”

The house was dark, even in the afternoon sunlight, but it wasn’t quiet. Soft moans of distress drifted down the halls and through the walls. Joan’s footsteps thumped unevenly, and the scent of fresh, hot blood trailed after her. “You’re hurt. Who else is?”

“I’m fine,” she said, the words brittle enough to break. “There are twelve others. Seven are hurt, two badly.”

“Wolves?”

“All of us. Except for Adam, obviously.”

“When?”

The answer was too long coming, which meant she knew just how bad it sounded. “A few hours before dawn.”

Unless she’d had her leg damn near ripped off, she should have been well on her way to fine already. “What in hell did you people tangle with?”

She turned again, holding her ground in spite of injury and obvious exhaustion. “What did Mr. Hamilton tell you?”

Not enough, not yet. “Where is he?”

Joan took a step back and nodded toward the door. “Out back. One of the new wolves panicked and can’t shift back. I’m too drained to help her.”

The back door hung slightly ajar, and Seamus pushed through it. He spotted Gavin immediately, a large gray wolf standing, alert, while a smaller wolf paced anxiously around him. He didn’t yield, but he didn’t push, either. As soon as Seamus stepped into the yard the female yipped and sidled away, darting to put the bulk of Gavin’s body in front of her.

Fear hung in the air, thick enough to choke a human, and underneath it the smells of blood and lead and powder, evidence of a vicious battle. The wind shifted, bringing with it the whisper of shoes on the grass behind him—and the scent of the vampire.

He stepped up next to Seamus and watched Gavin begin the careful process of soothing the agitated wolf. “That’s Ingrid. She’s sixteen and three months changed.”

Too young. Seamus could still remember the first few bewildering months after his own transformation. “And not by choice?”

“Choice.” Adam made the word sound bitter. “She was a poor girl seduced into a life she couldn’t understand. And after he’d had her enough times for the shine to wear off…”

No one who hadn’t experienced the change could understand, and hearing the vampire speak as though he had the authority to do so raised Seamus’s hackles. “Who are you to decide what people understand and what they don’t?”

The vampire had a laugh like sandpaper against stone. “Didn’t Hamilton tell you? I’m their alpha.”

Seamus snorted and lit a cigarette. “He said something to that effect, but you don’t smell like a wolf to me.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters now is that these people need to get to safety, and Gavin says you and your boys can make it happen.”

He sounded defensive but worried. As quickly as that, Seamus’s ire died. “We can. It depends, some.”

“On?”

“On who you’ve got after you and your pack.”

The vampire sighed, and Seamus knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “Edwin Lancaster.”

Even living under a rock wouldn’t save a man from knowing the name. Wealthy and influential, both in human and wolf society, Edwin Lancaster was heir to a textile fortune…and a spoiled ass who got everything he wanted.

“What’d you—” He bit off the words with a curse, suddenly sure what Adam Dubois had done to anger Lancaster. “Who is it? The girl inside, the one with the limp?”

Adam didn’t answer at first. He watched Gavin, who had gotten the anxious, confused wolf calmed enough to drop to the ground. Her small body trembled as a soft, tentative tendril of power uncurled, gentle enough to mark her as a weaker wolf.

At that first tug of magic, Adam and Seamus both turned their backs. “A lot of the women here are Lancaster’s discarded playmates. He likes them young, impressionable and submissive.”

It was the last way Seamus would have described the woman who’d stuck the business end of a rifle in his face. “If he tossed them, what does he care? You gather them up and…what? It makes him jealous?”

“I’m a vampire,” Adam replied, his voice weary. “I’m told it’s instinct. I suppose that’s one of those things I won’t ever understand.”

“Also wrapped up in the fact that he’s a self-centered asshole, I’m guessing.” Seamus tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. “You don’t throw away things you care about. And if you don’t care about them, you don’t deserve to have them.”

He could feel the heavy weight of the man’s blatant appraisal, but before he could respond a shaky female voice rose behind them. “A-Adam?”

Adam pulled his shirt over his head without hesitation. “It’s okay, Ingrid. You’re safe now.”

Silence, except for the soft slide of fabric against skin and the girl’s nervous, too-quick breaths. Then, “Are the others back?”

“Soon,” Adam murmured. The girl seemed reassured, but Seamus could hear the lie.

Gavin stepped close and laid a hand on Seamus’s shoulder. “Can we speak?”

They walked away from Dubois and the girl, and Seamus took a deep breath. “What was she talking about, Gavin? The others? Are there more wounded?”

He hesitated. “Captured.”

“Damn.” Seamus shoved both hands through his hair. “You’re going after them.”

“Yes, me and Adam.”

“Don’t you need me and the boys? We can find someone else to—”

“No.” Gavin spoke sharply. “You take Joan and the others, and you get them to safety. They need a chance to heal.”

“Why aren’t they now?” Frustration colored his voice, but he couldn’t help it. “What in hell is going on?”

“Blood bonds,” his oldest friend whispered hoarsely. “Adam has them, after a fashion, with all his followers. Some of them are in trouble, others need to get to safety, and you need to not ask so damn many questions.”

He’d known Gavin Hamilton for years, had run with him in the streets of New York. Somehow, they’d avoided the gangs and the trouble that came with them, and always managed to stay a step ahead of whatever law they were breaking.

He trusted Gavin.

Seamus clapped a hand to his friend’s back. “Tell me what I need to do.”

There was no time for a proper bath, though the polished tub stood empty with its shiny new pipes gleaming and a freshly washed stack of towels beside it. For some of the girls, the ability to twist a knob and fill the tub with hot water had been a luxury more magical than the fact that they changed to wolves with every full moon.

Those were mostly Edwin’s girls. Girls so poor they’d never known anything but heating pot after pot of water to fill a tub a bit at a time, if they were even that lucky. She had to credit the man with some cunning—he’d been very sure to pick girls unlikely to be missed. Orphans and farmers’ daughters and maids who would be assumed to have abandoned their drudgery in favor of running off with a man. Oh yes, Edwin chose well.

Most of the time.

Joan sighed and did her best to ignore the tub as she stripped the torn, bloodstained dress from her body quickly but carefully. Even if there had been time to immerse herself in hot, clean water, she couldn’t have. Simone had just changed the bandage wrapped around the wound on her calf, and it still hadn’t healed. Instead Joan had stitches holding her skin together while sluggish power stirred inside her.

Not enough. Not nearly enough, and fear clawed inside her as she tried not to imagine what it could mean. The bond with Adam would take what it needed to keep their people strong, but it had never drawn so much from her before, never felt like a noose around her neck. She was the most powerful wolf. Her magic fed the pack, fed everyone.

Including the wolves left to Edwin’s surely untender mercies.

Every heartbeat increased her weariness, until exhaustion weighed so heavy that even simple chores seemed insurmountable obstacles. She fumbled with the knob for the hot water, then hesitated. Their supply wasn’t endless, and it might be needed for more important things before the day was done. Gritting her teeth, she twisted on the cold water instead.

Autumn had come early to Massachusetts, and washing the blood from her hair wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. It had dried into a tacky, sticky mess, tangling around her fingers until she wanted to scream with frustration.

By the time the water ran clear, she was shivering in just her undergarments. She tucked one of the thick towels around her body and used another to rub at her hair, bracing herself for the fact she still had to wash her face, arms and neck in the icy water.

“You need some help.”

Joan barely bit down in time to hold back a startled noise as she spun and found herself looking into gentle blue eyes. It was the new man, the one who’d come to speak to Adam’s friend. Nothing should have made her so oblivious that she disregarded the sound of footsteps in the hallway, which meant she had left weary behind and careened into recklessly exhausted.

But not so exhausted as to tolerate a man staring at her with such blatant appraisal. She gripped the towel and tried to summon her fiercest glare as she pretended his words had been a question instead of an arrogant, presumptuous statement. “I’m fine. Please close the door behind you.”

“We’re going to be working together.” He stepped into the bathroom and, indeed, shut the door behind him. “That means we need to talk.”

She’d seen women sporting dresses that bared more skin than her towel, but it didn’t make her feel less naked. The press of his power didn’t help—he was clearly a strong wolf, one full of rough, edgy dominance that stirred the wolf inside her with unrestrained curiosity.

She had to get rid of him. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. If you or the men you brought need anything, you can ask Simone. She’s in the kitchen.”

“We had a lovely conversation.” He smiled suddenly, not a grin or a smirk, and it transformed his face from hard to boyishly handsome. “She told me to come talk to you.”

Of course she had. Humans might judge authority by gender or age or social standing or money, but wolves only cared for power. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-four and female, that she’d lost her inheritance and any hope of being accepted or respected by polite society. She had raw power, so she was in charge.

The heaviness of her responsibility settled over her. Soon she’d slide to the floor under the weight of it, crushed beyond repair.

His smile slipped away. “Are you ill?”

“No.” She didn’t have the luxury of giving up, not until they were safe. And if the man refused to leave, she’d just wash in front of him. Modesty seemed foolish when they could all be dead before seeing another dawn.

So she turned on the water again, just enough to wet a washcloth, then set to work on the blood smeared on her forearm. “I don’t believe Mr. Hamilton told me your name.”

“Seamus.” She could see him in the mirror, his brown hair falling over his forehead as he leaned against the wall. “Gavin told me there’s some sort of spell draining magic and keeping the wolves here from healing. You said earlier some are hurt worse than you?”

“A few. Mostly the men.” And though both of the survivors had fought hard, they’d been weaker wolves. Wolves who had come to Adam afraid they wouldn’t be able to protect their mates from the roving eyes and covetous urges of the Boston alpha and his inner circle. Adam had given them safety…for a time. “The attackers weren’t trying to kill the women, just capture them.”

If it shocked him, he didn’t show it. “Everyone has to be moved. We’re loading up in cars and heading closer to the coast.”

“To hide.” She rinsed the washcloth and stepped closer to the mirror to wipe away the blood streaking her face. There were scratches too, and at least one shallow cut on her shoulder that had healed to a thin pink line. “Adam’s trying to break the bonds we have with him. As soon as he figures out how, the others should begin healing again.”

“Not a moment too soon.”

No. Probably too late, but Astrid had cast the spells, and without her, Adam struggled against a lack of knowledge and a deficit of power. “He’s doing his best. We all are.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Seamus stepped toward her. “Now it’s partly my responsibility too.”

The bathroom was too small to make the press of his power anything but too intimate, especially in her current state of undress. She met his gaze in the mirror and put the punch of her remaining energy into it. “How much have Adam and Mr. Hamilton explained to you?”

“Enough.” He reached over her shoulder. “Let me.”

“No!” The word escaped on a surge of panic, and exhaustion had clearly made a fool of her because she didn’t realize he wasn’t reaching for the towel or her body until his fingers closed around the washcloth.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his face in the mirror as she let him take the cloth. “As you might imagine, we’re all unusually high strung.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I was being careful.” The water ran, and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Joan drew in a steadying breath and wished she hadn’t. With him so close, his scent overwhelmed everything. It was masculine, uncompromising, smells she associated with the type of men she’d never had much to do with before Adam. Sweat and dirt and liquor and the lead and gunpowder that meant he had a weapon on him, and underneath all that the indefinable something that said wolf.

Regardless, for your entertainment I bring you the first chapter of A Safe Harbor, first book in our The Great Depression–Now With More Werewolves spin-off series, Building Sanctuary.

Chapter One

“Doesn’t look much like a vampire’s lair.” Victor’s voice held a steely thread of tension.

And it was no wonder—the man loathed vampires as much as most wolves despised wizards. “This must be the place,” Seamus told him. “Not another house for miles.”

“How desperate would you have to be to leave a pack for this?”

“Fairly damn desperate.” That easily described most people these days. Relief rolls were jam-packed and hundreds of thousands had taken to the roads, traveling in search of work. “Gavin didn’t say what the circumstances were, but he did say he trusted the vampire. That’s odd for him.”

“Gavin Hamilton’s always made odd friends.” Victor’s eyes narrowed as they neared the house. “The place is damn big. You sure we brought enough cars?”

Gavin’s words came back to him. You’ll need three cars, maybe four. It’s a fucking mess, Seamus. I—I can’t explain right now. “We’ll muddle through.”

“We always do.”

“We’re driving a handful of people, that’s all. No cargo, no risk.” A lie, and they both knew it.

The drive consisted of two dirt ruts worn through the grass, and Seamus navigated it slowly. “Maybe you should all wait for me out here. Less chance of trouble.”

“Don’t like the idea of you facing off with a vampire with no one at your back.”

“Gavin didn’t mention Adam Dubois being the problem here.”

“Vampires are always the problem, when you get down to it.” Victor turned, presenting a hard profile as he stared out the window at the untamed mess of a front yard. “But it ain’t these girls’ fault that no wolves stepped up to do their duty and protect them. I don’t care how hard times are, every wolf in Boston deserves a thrashing.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Seamus parked the car. “We’ll soon see what’s going on, though.”

The porch steps creaked as he climbed them, and he bypassed the plain brass knocker in favor of pounding his fist on the door. Paint flaked off, and he watched it drift to the boards underfoot.

A woman opened the door, her skirt hiked halfway to her hips and blood drying into a sticky mess in her dark hair. She also had a rifle pointed at his chest.

Pulling his own piece seemed like a bad idea, so he murmured an apology, raised both hands and stepped back. “Hope I’ve got the right place. Gavin’s expecting me.”

Her gaze raked over him. She might be disheveled, but there was no mistaking the prissy superiority in her eyes as she tightened her grip on the weapon. “He said he was expecting a friend.”

“Aye, that’d be me.” He arched an eyebrow. “Is he around?”

“He’s out back.” The barrel of the rifle wavered and dipped toward the ground. “Are you Mr. Hamilton’s business associate?”

The truth would horrify someone like her. For that reason alone, he took great pleasure in giving it to her. “We used to run the streets together, back in the day.”

Her lips pressed into a severe line, disapproval etched in every line of her stiff body. “Of course you did.”

“Joan, if that’s Whelan, let him in.” The masculine voice drifted in from the other room, not Gavin’s familiar brogue but a thick New England accent edged with dark power. The vampire. Joan’s expression tightened, but she pivoted abruptly and stalked deeper into the farmhouse, clearly expecting him to follow.

“You boys stay on the porch,” Seamus called back. His companions didn’t need to be told again, but it might put the skittish woman more at ease. “I’ll talk to Gavin, see what’s what.”

The house was dark, even in the afternoon sunlight, but it wasn’t quiet. Soft moans of distress drifted down the halls and through the walls. Joan’s footsteps thumped unevenly, and the scent of fresh, hot blood trailed after her. “You’re hurt. Who else is?”

“I’m fine,” she said, the words brittle enough to break. “There are twelve others. Seven are hurt, two badly.”

“Wolves?”

“All of us. Except for Adam, obviously.”

“When?”

The answer was too long coming, which meant she knew just how bad it sounded. “A few hours before dawn.”

Unless she’d had her leg damn near ripped off, she should have been well on her way to fine already. “What in hell did you people tangle with?”

She turned again, holding her ground in spite of injury and obvious exhaustion. “What did Mr. Hamilton tell you?”

Not enough, not yet. “Where is he?”

Joan took a step back and nodded toward the door. “Out back. One of the new wolves panicked and can’t shift back. I’m too drained to help her.”

The back door hung slightly ajar, and Seamus pushed through it. He spotted Gavin immediately, a large gray wolf standing, alert, while a smaller wolf paced anxiously around him. He didn’t yield, but he didn’t push, either. As soon as Seamus stepped into the yard the female yipped and sidled away, darting to put the bulk of Gavin’s body in front of her.

Fear hung in the air, thick enough to choke a human, and underneath it the smells of blood and lead and powder, evidence of a vicious battle. The wind shifted, bringing with it the whisper of shoes on the grass behind him—and the scent of the vampire.

He stepped up next to Seamus and watched Gavin begin the careful process of soothing the agitated wolf. “That’s Ingrid. She’s sixteen and three months changed.”

Too young. Seamus could still remember the first few bewildering months after his own transformation. “And not by choice?”

“Choice.” Adam made the word sound bitter. “She was a poor girl seduced into a life she couldn’t understand. And after he’d had her enough times for the shine to wear off…”

No one who hadn’t experienced the change could understand, and hearing the vampire speak as though he had the authority to do so raised Seamus’s hackles. “Who are you to decide what people understand and what they don’t?”

The vampire had a laugh like sandpaper against stone. “Didn’t Hamilton tell you? I’m their alpha.”

Seamus snorted and lit a cigarette. “He said something to that effect, but you don’t smell like a wolf to me.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters now is that these people need to get to safety, and Gavin says you and your boys can make it happen.”

He sounded defensive but worried. As quickly as that, Seamus’s ire died. “We can. It depends, some.”

“On?”

“On who you’ve got after you and your pack.”

The vampire sighed, and Seamus knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “Edwin Lancaster.”

Even living under a rock wouldn’t save a man from knowing the name. Wealthy and influential, both in human and wolf society, Edwin Lancaster was heir to a textile fortune…and a spoiled ass who got everything he wanted.

“What’d you—” He bit off the words with a curse, suddenly sure what Adam Dubois had done to anger Lancaster. “Who is it? The girl inside, the one with the limp?”

Adam didn’t answer at first. He watched Gavin, who had gotten the anxious, confused wolf calmed enough to drop to the ground. Her small body trembled as a soft, tentative tendril of power uncurled, gentle enough to mark her as a weaker wolf.

At that first tug of magic, Adam and Seamus both turned their backs. “A lot of the women here are Lancaster’s discarded playmates. He likes them young, impressionable and submissive.”

It was the last way Seamus would have described the woman who’d stuck the business end of a rifle in his face. “If he tossed them, what does he care? You gather them up and…what? It makes him jealous?”

“I’m a vampire,” Adam replied, his voice weary. “I’m told it’s instinct. I suppose that’s one of those things I won’t ever understand.”

“Also wrapped up in the fact that he’s a self-centered asshole, I’m guessing.” Seamus tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. “You don’t throw away things you care about. And if you don’t care about them, you don’t deserve to have them.”

He could feel the heavy weight of the man’s blatant appraisal, but before he could respond a shaky female voice rose behind them. “A-Adam?”

Adam pulled his shirt over his head without hesitation. “It’s okay, Ingrid. You’re safe now.”

Silence, except for the soft slide of fabric against skin and the girl’s nervous, too-quick breaths. Then, “Are the others back?”

“Soon,” Adam murmured. The girl seemed reassured, but Seamus could hear the lie.

Gavin stepped close and laid a hand on Seamus’s shoulder. “Can we speak?”

They walked away from Dubois and the girl, and Seamus took a deep breath. “What was she talking about, Gavin? The others? Are there more wounded?”

He hesitated. “Captured.”

“Damn.” Seamus shoved both hands through his hair. “You’re going after them.”

“Yes, me and Adam.”

“Don’t you need me and the boys? We can find someone else to—”

“No.” Gavin spoke sharply. “You take Joan and the others, and you get them to safety. They need a chance to heal.”

“Why aren’t they now?” Frustration colored his voice, but he couldn’t help it. “What in hell is going on?”

“Blood bonds,” his oldest friend whispered hoarsely. “Adam has them, after a fashion, with all his followers. Some of them are in trouble, others need to get to safety, and you need to not ask so damn many questions.”

He’d known Gavin Hamilton for years, had run with him in the streets of New York. Somehow, they’d avoided the gangs and the trouble that came with them, and always managed to stay a step ahead of whatever law they were breaking.

He trusted Gavin.

Seamus clapped a hand to his friend’s back. “Tell me what I need to do.”

* * *

There was no time for a proper bath, though the polished tub stood empty with its shiny new pipes gleaming and a freshly washed stack of towels beside it. For some of the girls, the ability to twist a knob and fill the tub with hot water had been a luxury more magical than the fact that they changed to wolves with every full moon.

Those were mostly Edwin’s girls. Girls so poor they’d never known anything but heating pot after pot of water to fill a tub a bit at a time, if they were even that lucky. She had to credit the man with some cunning—he’d been very sure to pick girls unlikely to be missed. Orphans and farmers’ daughters and maids who would be assumed to have abandoned their drudgery in favor of running off with a man. Oh yes, Edwin chose well.

Most of the time.

Joan sighed and did her best to ignore the tub as she stripped the torn, bloodstained dress from her body quickly but carefully. Even if there had been time to immerse herself in hot, clean water, she couldn’t have. Simone had just changed the bandage wrapped around the wound on her calf, and it still hadn’t healed. Instead Joan had stitches holding her skin together while sluggish power stirred inside her.

Not enough. Not nearly enough, and fear clawed inside her as she tried not to imagine what it could mean. The bond with Adam would take what it needed to keep their people strong, but it had never drawn so much from her before, never felt like a noose around her neck. She was the most powerful wolf. Her magic fed the pack, fed everyone.

Including the wolves left to Edwin’s surely untender mercies.

Every heartbeat increased her weariness, until exhaustion weighed so heavy that even simple chores seemed insurmountable obstacles. She fumbled with the knob for the hot water, then hesitated. Their supply wasn’t endless, and it might be needed for more important things before the day was done. Gritting her teeth, she twisted on the cold water instead.

Autumn had come early to Massachusetts, and washing the blood from her hair wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. It had dried into a tacky, sticky mess, tangling around her fingers until she wanted to scream with frustration.

By the time the water ran clear, she was shivering in just her undergarments. She tucked one of the thick towels around her body and used another to rub at her hair, bracing herself for the fact she still had to wash her face, arms and neck in the icy water.

“You need some help.”

Joan barely bit down in time to hold back a startled noise as she spun and found herself looking into gentle blue eyes. It was the new man, the one who’d come to speak to Adam’s friend. Nothing should have made her so oblivious that she disregarded the sound of footsteps in the hallway, which meant she had left weary behind and careened into recklessly exhausted.

But not so exhausted as to tolerate a man staring at her with such blatant appraisal. She gripped the towel and tried to summon her fiercest glare as she pretended his words had been a question instead of an arrogant, presumptuous statement. “I’m fine. Please close the door behind you.”

“We’re going to be working together.” He stepped into the bathroom and, indeed, shut the door behind him. “That means we need to talk.”

She’d seen women sporting dresses that bared more skin than her towel, but it didn’t make her feel less naked. The press of his power didn’t help—he was clearly a strong wolf, one full of rough, edgy dominance that stirred the wolf inside her with unrestrained curiosity.

She had to get rid of him. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. If you or the men you brought need anything, you can ask Simone. She’s in the kitchen.”

“We had a lovely conversation.” He smiled suddenly, not a grin or a smirk, and it transformed his face from hard to boyishly handsome. “She told me to come talk to you.”

Of course she had. Humans might judge authority by gender or age or social standing or money, but wolves only cared for power. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-four and female, that she’d lost her inheritance and any hope of being accepted or respected by polite society. She had raw power, so she was in charge.

The heaviness of her responsibility settled over her. Soon she’d slide to the floor under the weight of it, crushed beyond repair.

His smile slipped away. “Are you ill?”

“No.” She didn’t have the luxury of giving up, not until they were safe. And if the man refused to leave, she’d just wash in front of him. Modesty seemed foolish when they could all be dead before seeing another dawn.

So she turned on the water again, just enough to wet a washcloth, then set to work on the blood smeared on her forearm. “I don’t believe Mr. Hamilton told me your name.”

“Seamus.” She could see him in the mirror, his brown hair falling over his forehead as he leaned against the wall. “Gavin told me there’s some sort of spell draining magic and keeping the wolves here from healing. You said earlier some are hurt worse than you?”

“A few. Mostly the men.” And though both of the survivors had fought hard, they’d been weaker wolves. Wolves who had come to Adam afraid they wouldn’t be able to protect their mates from the roving eyes and covetous urges of the Boston alpha and his inner circle. Adam had given them safety…for a time. “The attackers weren’t trying to kill the women, just capture them.”

If it shocked him, he didn’t show it. “Everyone has to be moved. We’re loading up in cars and heading closer to the coast.”

“To hide.” She rinsed the washcloth and stepped closer to the mirror to wipe away the blood streaking her face. There were scratches too, and at least one shallow cut on her shoulder that had healed to a thin pink line. “Adam’s trying to break the bonds we have with him. As soon as he figures out how, the others should begin healing again.”

“Not a moment too soon.”

No. Probably too late, but Astrid had cast the spells, and without her, Adam struggled against a lack of knowledge and a deficit of power. “He’s doing his best. We all are.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Seamus stepped toward her. “Now it’s partly my responsibility too.”

The bathroom was too small to make the press of his power anything but too intimate, especially in her current state of undress. She met his gaze in the mirror and put the punch of her remaining energy into it. “How much have Adam and Mr. Hamilton explained to you?”

“Enough.” He reached over her shoulder. “Let me.”

“No!” The word escaped on a surge of panic, and exhaustion had clearly made a fool of her because she didn’t realize he wasn’t reaching for the towel or her body until his fingers closed around the washcloth.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see his face in the mirror as she let him take the cloth. “As you might imagine, we’re all unusually high strung.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I was being careful.” The water ran, and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Joan drew in a steadying breath and wished she hadn’t. With him so close, his scent overwhelmed everything. It was masculine, uncompromising, smells she associated with the type of men she’d never had much to do with before Adam. Sweat and dirt and liquor and the lead and gunpowder that meant he had a weapon on him, and underneath all that the indefinable something that said wolf.

Or maybe that wasn’t a scent at all, but the brush of magic. It was more primal than smell, an instinctive prompting that told her another wolf was near. And more than that—a strong wolf. A male. An alpha, dominant whether he led a pack or not, a wolf she didn’t have to protect. Someone who could help her protect those in her care.

Or someone who could hurt you. The voice of experience, not instinct, but a valid concern and one he’d have to be well prepared to deal with if he planned to help them. “My people will be nervous around you, and it can’t be helped. No wolf looks to a witch and vampire for protection if she’s known kindness from her alphas.”

Again, he didn’t seem surprised. “Indeed.” He eased the cloth over the back of her neck. “You got clawed back here, but it’s mostly healed.”

Memories of the frantic, vicious fight threatened to surface, and she shoved them back ruthlessly. “They weren’t going to kill me. I rather imagine they were all under very strict orders to ensure they didn’t, in fact.”

“Because of Lancaster.”

If only Edwin Lancaster were their sole concern. “He’s not happy with me, but it’s worse than that. I defied the Boston alpha.”

His touch faltered for a moment. “Jesus Christ.”

Yes, Seamus would understand what that meant in a way Adam never could. She opened her eyes and met his gaze in the mirror. “I did what I had to. I couldn’t watch them suffer.”

He watched her in the mirror, his expression thoughtful. “I can handle getting your people to safety, but I’ll need your help.”

“My help?” She turned and stared at him as anger bubbled up. “They’re my people. I will give everything for them, up to and including my life. But I’ll appreciate your help.”

“Calm down, Joan. I know this is your burden.” His voice gentled. “Let me take it, just for a little while.”

If she gave him an inch there’d be nothing left of her. “Men don’t take power for a little while.”

After a moment, he nodded and draped the bloodstained cloth over the edge of the sink. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

Every instinct inside her screamed in warning, and she thought it was the wolf clamoring for her to apologize, to do anything to keep Seamus from leaving and taking that aura of strength and safety with him.

She turned, braced to ignore her wolf’s angry demands, but what splintered through her was pain, blinding physical agony so sharp she screamed before she could stop herself. Digging her teeth into her lower lip didn’t help because she wasn’t the only one screaming, and the screams from the rest of the house were high and pained and so afraid…

Joan didn’t realize her knees had given out until strong arms locked around her waist. Pain made the room swim, but she held back another cry of pain, locked it inside until her voice only trembled a little. “Adam. I need to get to Adam.”

Seamus had already slipped one arm under her knees. He lifted her with ease and shouldered through the bathroom door. “Just hang on, Joan. You’ll be all right.”

How could she tell him she wasn’t afraid for herself? She had felt pain through the bonds before, the agony of someone connected to them dying a hard death. But it had been over in a heartbeat. It hadn’t twisted inside her until the world constricted to nothing but agony.

Somewhere out there, one of her people was dying. Slowly.

These are either unedited snippets, or snippets in the process of being edited, so they may not be the final version.  But they’re mostly pretty short anyway. 

From Deadlock

Alec jerked awake to the sound of his front door crashing in off its hinges.

It could have been any of a dozen threats–someone come to rescue the prisoner still in his basement, someone he’d pissed off recently, even a pointed message from Cesar Mendoza–but as Alec rolled from the bed a familiar voice sounded from the entry way, the words a rage-filled roar. “Where is he?”

Oh shit.

Alec had fallen into his bed too tired to take off his jeans, and he didn’t waste time with a shirt. By the time he got down the hallway Andrew had already torn the basement door off its hinges. It crashed to the floor as Andrew disappeared down the stairs, his nose leading him unerringly to the one person Alec had to keep him from killing.

When he found out who’d spilled their guts to Andrew, he might do some killing of his own.

From Zola’s Pride

The soft murmur of feminine voices drifted through the dojo as the last few students lingered in the warmth of the building, making plans to meet later in the week or catching up on the latest gossip. February had brought an unseasonable cold snap, the kind of chill that settled in Zola’s bones and made her long for the unforgiving deserts of her childhood.

A board creaked on the floor behind her, and Zola looked up from rearranging a stack of punching targets to catch sight of Sheila’s reflection. The teenager had a jacket zipped up to her chin and a knit hat pulled low over wild corkscrew curls, leaving just her pale face uncovered. “Zola?”

The girl looked worried, and Zola tensed. “Yes, Sheila? There is a problem?” Even after all these years English didn’t come naturally, the words tumbling out in an order that always made others laugh. She’d spoken too many languages in too many countries to worry now.

Sheila was so accustomed enough to Zola’s linguistic oddities that she didn’t blink. She did, however, speak in her own nearly indecipherable dialect. “There’s a guy lurking outside. I mean, he’s hot and all, but the lurking is pretty creeptastic and a little pervy.”

From A Safe Harbor

Seamus barely managed not to smile. She was sneakier than she gave herself credit for being, and he liked it. “I think you’ve got a bit of a rogue bottled up in you too, sweet Joan.”

She finally looked up, and her dark eyes glinted with amusement. “Women have been using men’s vices against them since men discovered vice.”

“Mm-hmm.” He cracked two more eggs into the bowl. “And what did they use against them before that?”

“Why would they need to? Men were angels. Now I’m thinking they might have been a bit boring too.”

“Men have never been angels, sweetheart.”

“I suppose not.” Her pen scratched against the paper again, more idle doodles. “I’ll enjoy learning about your vices, as long as I’m numbered among them.”