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Catch The “Breaker Zone”

I’m pleased to have Nicola Cameron visiting today with her next book in the Olympic Cove series, Breaker Zone. She was here a while back with her first book in the series, Storm Season. You can find that post here. Welcome back, Nicola! 🙂

 

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BLURB:

When Dr. Nick Gardiner goes on the run from a psychotic ex and ends up at Olympic Cove, the last thing he expects to find is his friend Ian living with two redheaded demigods and learning how to be a storm god. Adding to the confusion is a wounded merman named Aidan who washes up in the cove, requiring Nick’s professional help. As it turns out, the handsome mer and his partner Liam have other plans for the ER doctor — to claim him as their agapetos, their destined mate, and fulfill his need to submit.

A chance encounter at a local junk shop reveals that Nick has his own role to play in the battle against the insane Nereid Thetis. Under the reluctant mentorship of the centaur Chiron, Nick must master the use of the Rod of Asclepius if he wants to rescue his mates from a ghastly fate and help Ian save the planet.

 

BUY LINKS:

 

 

EXCERPT

 

Hefting the Rod, Nick headed into the master bedroom and put it away in the closet. The bed looked insanely soft and comfortable, and he felt an intense urge to do a faceplant into the coverlet and let sleep take him away.

Someone cleared their throat, and he turned to see Aidan and Liam in the bedroom doorway. “Where should we sleep, Nick?” Aidan asked.

That was a good question. He scrubbed at his face, trying to think. “Do you need to go back into the water?”

“No, we’re good for a day or two at least.”

“Okay. I guess there’s always the guest rooms.”

A flicker of disappointment ran through those green eyes, but Aidan nodded. “We’ll let you get some sleep.” He turned to leave.

“No.”

Nick’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

“No,” Liam repeated, calm but unmovable. “We’re supposed to be your bodyguards, according to Lord Chiron. That won’t be easy if we’re sleeping in separate rooms. We need to sleep in here with you.”

Annoyance bubbled to the surface, tempered by the allure of curling up between his mers. “Look, no offense, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, trying to sound firm. “I’m really tired, and I don’t think I’m up for anything tonight.”

Liam stepped even closer. “We’re not supposed to leave you alone,” he said, hazel blue eyes shadowed in the twilit room. “Listen to me, chuisle. You’re exhausted, and understandably so. You were threatened by your former lover, and then you had to deal with one of the most powerful gods on the planet, followed immediately by a long study session. You’ve done enough for the day. Let us help you relax.”

That low voice, like a cello with its rich intonation, was impossible to resist. “Just relax?”

Liam smiled. “More if you’re in the mood. But it’s up to you.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was already getting aroused at the thought of both of them touching him. “I … okay. Yes.”

The tall mer took his hands, lifting each one to his mouth in turn and kissing it. “Yes, Maighstir,” he said with a smile.

It sounded like ‘master’ with a Gaelic lilt making it into ‘maister’. Nick’s last bit of resistance disappeared, and he felt boneless with pleasure at the anticipation of what was to come. “Yes, Maighstir.”

“Mm. Good boy.”

***

Liam let Nick’s hands go. They dropped to the human’s sides and Nick’s dark head tilted, exposing the long line of muscle and tendon just waiting to be decorated with bite marks and sucking kisses. Oh, their chuisle knew how to lure attention.

But Liam knew how to wait. Instead of putting his mouth to Nick’s offered throat, he whispered, “Now, we’re going to take off your clothes.”

A shiver ran through Nick at that. Liam paused, trying to judge if it had been caused by lust or fear. The reality of the situation came back to him—the last time Nick had played with anyone, his trust had been shattered and his body damaged. They were swimming through shark-infested waters here, and one wrong move could drive their mate even further away from them.

He bent close to Nick’s ear again. “If something upsets you, you will tell us immediately, do you understand? We’ll sit down tomorrow and have a long talk about what you can and cannot do, and I swear to you that Aidan and I will respect your limits. But tonight is purely for your pleasure and comfort.”

He heard Nick swallow, and the shivering died down. “Good. Now, take a deep breath.”

Their mate’s ribcage expanded, filling with the air all his kind needed. “Another.” Liam ran his hands over Nick’s shoulders, enjoying the feel of the curved muscle there. “Good. I’m going to take off your shirt.”

Moving with deliberation, he slid all the buttons through their holes, tugging the smooth fabric off and tossing it to the side. He took in a soft breath, admiring Nick’s body. His muscles weren’t as pronounced as a mer’s, but his back and shoulders had beautifully delineated hollows and rises that implied strength and agility. Liam’s mouth watered with the sudden urge to bite into one firm shoulder.

Instead, he ran just the pads of his fingertips across Nick’s skin, tracing the outline of his upper body. On the other side Aidan had stepped closer, running his own fingers along Nick’s chest and abs. Their mate made a soft, hungry noise deep in his throat, and Aidan flashed that irresistible smile. “I think you like this, chuisle.”

“Mmm.”

Liam leaned close, nipping Nick’s earlobe again. “Use your words,” he ordered gently.

“Yes, I like this, Maighstir.” The response was soft, almost dreamy.

Liam caught Aidan’s eye, then glanced down meaningfully. At the same time he slid his hands down Nick’s arms, gently ringing his wrists and drawing them behind his back. “You’re still wearing too much.”

“Far too much,” Aidan agreed, sinking to his knees. Liam watched over Nick’s shoulder as the other mer started undoing Nick’s belt, teasingly drawing the leather through the loops, before easing down his zipper. Nick made another noise, deeper this time.

He likes being restrained and controlled. Liam felt his own desire rise, and firmly corralled it. Tonight is for him, to show him he belongs with us.

Nick gasped suddenly, twitching in his grip. Glancing down, Liam saw his other mate planting an open-mouthed kiss at the base of Nick’s hardening cock through his underwear.

“Did I say you could do that, boy?” he asked Aidan, putting a growl into his voice.

The green-eyed mer leaned back, face shadowed in the room’s dim light. “I’m sorry, Maighstir. I couldn’t resist a taste.”

Liam was tempted to correct him, but their focus had to remain on Nick. “I’ll deal with you later,” he rumbled, and saw goosebumps rise on Nick’s skin. The idea obviously appealed. “Hm. Would you like that, chuisle? I could tie you to the headboard and make you watch me punish Aidan. I’d bend him over the end of the bed and turn his ass a lovely red as you watched. Then I’d put him on his hands and knees and fuck him while he looked at you.”

This time both his mates groaned at the image he’d created. “I wouldn’t let him come for a long time,” Liam murmured, enjoyed the sensation of his own cock plumping out and pressing against the fabric of his shorts. “And every time I thrust into him, his mouth would come closer and closer to your cock, almost close enough to suck it. But never quite close enough. And all the time I was fucking him, all you could do is sit there, hard and aching so badly, and watch us.”

Nick’s head dropped back onto his shoulder. “Please, Maighstir,” he whispered.

“Mm. Such a good boy.” He nodded at Aidan, and the other mer finished taking Nick’s trousers down, then his briefs. “If you’re very good and earn it, I may let you come tonight. No promises, though.”

 

ABOUT NICOLA:

 

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

It Takes “Two to Tango”!

Please welcome the very talented Nicola Cameron to the Spicy Butterfly Garden. She’s back with another Evernight Publishing release, Two to Tango and she’s giving us a little insight to her main character, Dmitri Grigoryev! Welcome back, Nicola! 

 

FIVE THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT DMITRI GRIGORYEV:

 

  1. His guilty indulgence is Isaac Asimov’s Foundation trilogy.
  2. He loves playing racquetball.
  3. His favorite summer memories are of staying with his Uncle Misha and Aunt Viktoria.
  4. He wishes he could paint in the style of the Dutch Masters.
  5. While he’s never had to do it before, he knows five different ways to kill people with his bare hands.

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BLURB:

Rory MacLellan, AKA the Highlander, may be the most successful interstellar art thief in the Known Worlds, but he still has a conscience. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.

Dr. Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and desperate, the last thing he expected was a dashing thief to come along and save his life.

Thrown together by accident and with interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or prove that they were meant to be together?

BUY LINKS:

 

EXCERPT

Dmitri turned over, glancing down the line of their bodies. Rory’s erection was very obvious in his kilt, almost comically so. The other man must have been contorting himself to keep it off his ass. Of course, now that he was face up, his own erection started filling out nicely.

Rory started massaging his shoulders and arms, going nowhere near his nipples or other erogenous zones. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Um, you’re hard.”

“I know,” Rory said evenly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Kind of difficult to do that when it’s right over my stomach. Besides, so am I.”

Rory gave a half shrug. “Totally normal. Lots of guys get an erection during a massage. Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to make a move on you or anything.”

He didn’t understand why that admission annoyed him, but it did. “Of course not,” he muttered. “Why would you?”

Rory stopped at that, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” He turned his head, staring at the bulkhead. “Never mind.”

“Hey.” Long fingers cupped his chin, urging it back. “I’m not making a move on you because I don’t believe in hitting on someone when they don’t have a way out of the situation. I mean, yes, I think you’re incredibly hot, which should be obvious by the fact that my cock can now cut diamond.” Rory glanced down at his crotch and grinned. “But that’s my problem, not yours.”

That’s what you think. Dmitri could feel Rory’s body heat moving through him, lighting up nerve endings. He’d been sure that his life would be one long, slow slog through museum workshops, getting older and more bitter with each passing year until he was shunted off to some sterile senior station to die.

Instead, he had been kidnapped during a heist by the Known Worlds’ sexiest antiquities thief, rescued from CAPOD by said thief, been given the chance to restore a shattered Saolao ceremonial bowl, and now had the same sexy thief kneeling over him with a rock-hard erection after giving him the best massage of his life. Except he’s backing off like I’m a nervous virgin.

It was time to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. He cupped his palms over Rory’s exposed knees, feeling the other man twitch from the unexpected contact. “What if I said yes?”

Rory frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“What.” Dmitri slowly ran his fingertips under the tartan, up Rory’s thighs. “If I.” He pressed the heels of his hands against the soft prickle of hair and the lean muscle underneath, continuing his upward slide. “Said yes?” His fingers reached the top of each thigh, dancing over the crease where leg met groin. The skin was smooth there, but he could just feel the beginnings of crisp pubic hair brushing his thumbs, and the heat from what had to be an aching cock.

He wouldn’t let himself touch it. Not until he was sure they both wanted this. “Or do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Nooo, I think I’m catching on.” Eyes gleaming, Rory leaned over and kissed him. “Is this all right?” he whispered, each word the softest puff of breath against Dmitri’s lips.

“Definitely.”

“Good. Because if you don’t put your hand around my cock in the next thirty seconds, my head is going to explode.”

Dmitri couldn’t help chuckling. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

 ABOUT NICOLA:

 Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

 

 

All “A’s” When “Grading the Curve”

Today, Nicola Cameron stops by the Spicy Butterfly Garden to introduce us to her latest Evernight Publishing release, Grading the Curve.  I have some familiarity with the characters because Nicola used a short blurb from this story during Evernight’s first Sexy Snippets Facebook party a few months back. It was a hot and sexy blurb back then that Nicola has turned into a hot and sexy novel!  Enjoy Grading the Curve!

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BLURB:

Ellen Ragsdale is a scholarship student who just wants to get her college degree and start her life. Alexander Cord is a widowed English professor who hides his loneliness behind a sardonic facade. School rules have kept them at arm’s length all year long. But on the last night of Ellen’s college career, the two of them risk everything to find out if their mutual attraction is more than a classroom crush.

EXCERPT:

“Did you know that you always blush when you talk to me?” he said quietly. “It’s charming. You look like a medieval maiden receiving her first suitor.”

It felt like someone had painted fire across her skin. She ducked her head, staring dumbly at the hallway’s scarred paint. He couldn’t know. Nobody knew that about her. It wasn’t that obvious.

Was it?

“Interesting.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I meant it as a compliment, but perhaps I struck closer to the truth than I’d intended.” He moved closer, and she could feel the heat from his whole body now, warming her like an invisible caress. “Are you?”

She swallowed hard. He couldn’t be asking what she thought he was asking. “A-am I—”

“A maiden. A virgin. I believe a popular term is ‘unicorn bait.’” His voice dropped, turning into a soft rumble. “I have to admit, I’m puzzled as to how someone as lovely and intelligent as you could still be virginal.”

Her entire face now felt like it was on fire. She’d gone on the occasional date, usually doubling with Keisha or Dianne, but once the guys found out what her schedule was like they didn’t bother calling again. “Too busy, I guess. Working, studying.”

To her surprise, cool fingers slid under her chin, gently turning her face up. “What a shame,” Cord said, his voice low and soft. “But if it’s of any consolation, men your age do tend to be rather slapdash and impatient when it comes to women. I assure you, you haven’t missed out on much by skipping the undergraduate sexual circus.” The façade of the academic disappeared. Underneath was a man she didn’t know, warm and standing so close to her. “That being said, I wonder … would you be willing to consider me?”

“What—” Her throat clicked, it was so dry. She swallowed and tried again. “What are you saying?”

He tilted his head to the side. “I want to take you to bed, Miss Ragsdale. I want to kiss that pink mouth of yours, undress you ever so slowly, play with those gorgeous breasts and suck your nipples before I caress every inch of your body. I want to bury my tongue between your legs and lap at your clit, and when you’re dripping wet I want to bury my cock in you. I want to see that sweet mouth of yours open and scream my name as I make you come over and over again.” Now she could smell his cologne,
something masculine, woody, and underneath that, the musk of clean male. “Come home with me tonight, Miss Ragsdale. Let me make love to you. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

BUY LINKS:

 DON’T MISS THE Grading the Curve BOOK TRAILER:

http://youtu.be/C10kXkffe6w

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ABOUT NICOLA CAMERON: 

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).