Murder at Chipmunk Lake
Nixie's lost her mojo!
A Nixie and Julian Story. *Paranormal. Hot.*
Nixie Emerson, punk rock musician and first-time mom-to-be,
has a stalker. Her band Guns and Polkas has gone national after their big stage
debut, but the price of fame is the stalker trying to scare her into leaving
the band.
Her husband, master vampire Julian, whisks Nixie away to the
Wisconsin north woods--where they meet the stalker on the pier of their cabin
and he again threatens Nixie.
Julian punches him out and the couple walks away thinking
the problem is over. But when the next evening the stalker is found dead, they
find out the trouble is only starting.
Warning: contains a cranky pregnant lady trying to control
her swearing, a master vampire appeasing his wife with food and creative sex,
murder, mayhem and several arguments over what to name the baby.
Hot Excerpt:
I spread my legs, expecting his agile tongue.
He surprised me by standing. “Let’s start with a warmup.” He
unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes a heated blue on me, sizzling toward vampire
violet. He exposed his hard muscles and bronzed skin inch by inch.
I squirmed. Yum. I quirked a couple fingers at him, a “come
here” so I could palm those hard mounds, feel those acres of silken skin under
my lips.
He only smiled.
“What are you doing? The band’s already warmed up. Get on
the bed.”
“Not yet. There’s an opening act for the audience first.” He
turned and shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. It made all sorts of lovely
ripples across that broad, muscular expanse.
“Don’t need an opening act.” I panted it. “Ready for the
main show.” I slid a hand between my thighs to prepare the stage. My fingers
skidded on hot moisture. I was ready and then some.
He shot me a hot look over one shoulder, his fangs extending
between his lips, his eyes shading toward red. “Not even this?” He spun front
and unzipped his trousers, revealing the trail of black hair, leading from his
dent of a navel to the top of Mr. Big Gavel which was expanding rapidly and
trying to tear free.
“Oh. Okay.” My heart was pounding a Sousa march. “Loving the
opening act.”
He turned away again but before I could protest he dropped
trou, revealing roped, cuppable glutes. A pang of need hit me, so sharp I
started rubbing myself, trying to relieve the worst of it.
“Hands off.” He growled it. “That’s my job.”
“How can you tell what I’m doing? You’re turned the wrong
way. Speaking of, turn back so I can see.”
“I can hear you stroking. Stop it. I want you screaming for
me. Stop it, or the show stops.”
I took my hand off myself so fast my arm flung onto the bed
with a whump. “Stopped. Turn now. Wanna see.”
He stepped out of his pants and slowly turned. His jutting
cock hove into view, bobbing as if it was nodding, happy to see me.
I whimpered.
“Is this what you want?”
I nodded and licked swollen, throbbing lips.
He smiled with masculine satisfaction. “Now, what do you
say?”
I reached for it, waving my hands in the air at him.
“Gimme.”
“Not what I had in mind.” He stalked toward the bed, eyes
glowing red, fangs straining. His chest rumbled with a vampire purr. “Try
again.”
“Gimme now.”
He laughed through his purr. “Good enough.” He climbed onto
the bed between my legs.
Bio:
As a girl, I spun romantic, happily-ever-after stories to
get to sleep. A husband, two degrees, a blackbelt and a family later, I'm
delighted to spin them for readers.
I’ve lived with love and loss, in bright times and dark, and
learned we can all use a break from reality every now and then.
So join me for action, sparkling wit and red-hot love.
Strong men. Stronger women.
To learn more, please visit http://www.maryhughesbooks.com/
or write mary@maryhughesbooks.com.
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