It's Time To Meet The Heir

HEIR

Blurb: 

In a world where magic makes might Cyril Arlen is the fourth son of the Matriarch of House Arlen, a powerful clan of witch-born.  Uninterested in politics or the pressures associated with his House, Cyril is content to leave it all behind to live a quiet and peaceful life on his own.

Unfortunately not everyone agrees with that choice.

After a decade of peace Cyril is unexpectedly named Heritor to his mother’s position and shoved back into the spotlight against his will.

Now, forced to deal with a power hungry half-brother and the pressures of one day ruling his House, Cyril’s only comfort is Alpha Sinclair Ferus.  Sinclair is duty bound to protect him and happens to be 

the same man who has fascinated Cyril since he was a child.

Despite his reluctance to accept his new position Cyril finds that having Sinclair around might just make it all worthwhile.

Teaser:

For one tense, almost too long moment, Sinclair was rigid against him, the shoulder beneath his hand as hard as marble. Just as Cyril was prepared to pull back, to stammer an apology and find somewhere to hide until his hurt and humiliation had faded, Sinclair moved.

Alpha in all the ways that mattered, Sinclair took control of the kiss with a barely suppressed snarl. His mouth went from passive to aggressive as his arms came up, one large hand cupped the back of Cyril’s neck firmly while the other arm wrapped itself around his waist. Cyril barely had time to blink before he was tugged even closer to the heat of Sinclair’s frame and desire threatened to completely white out his thoughts.

There was a low rumbling growl building in Sinclair’s chest, Cyril could feel it with as close as they were pressed together. Caught up in his lust Cyril couldn’t help but try and press even closer to him. The arm around his waist was a band of steel that clutched him tightly as Sinclair’s tongue swept into his mouth to tangle with his own. Sinclair tasted of mint and hints of spice, chai like the tea he drank in the afternoons.

The arm around his waist moved then. Sinclair’s hand trailed down across his waist and his lower back only to pause long enough to squeeze his ass for a brief moment. Then, with a flex of muscle, Cyril found himself hoisted in the air so that he could wrap his legs around Sinclair’s tapered waist. He groaned at the sensations the new position invoked, at the way Sinclair’s hips fit so nicely between his thighs, even as Sinclair shifted them until Cyril felt a wall at his back.

Sinclair broke the kiss a few seconds later only to nip sharply at Cyril’s bottom lip and duck down so he could mouth wetly at the curve of his throat. Cyril didn’t hesitate to tip his head back as far as he could against the wall behind him, purposefully baring his throat.

Sinclair made a rough growling noise and then his mouth seemed to be everywhere. He sucked harshly at Cyril’s pulse point, ran his tongue across the throbbing vein, nipped at the sensitive skin until Cyril knew he’d have marks. He also knew what the willing and open baring of a throat meant to a wolf.

Trust.

Surrender.

Submission.

London Saint James Is Back!

BUY

Blurb:

They fight to protect those who would never welcome them into the human world... 

Petúr always knew he and his brothers-in-arms were different. Something more. Something not human. Yet, he never expected to find out the truth of their origins, nor fall for a human woman whose father was set to destroy Neverland. 

Ever since she was a child, Wyndi dreamed of an angel with eyes of the purest gold, although she never really believed such a man existed until she met the hauntingly beautiful Petúr of the lost boys. 

With a prophecy to fulfill, a woman to protect, a portal to find, and evil darklings out for blood, will Petúr be strong enough to rise up and claim what’s rightfully his, or lose everything to a long-time nemesis, Grapple the Dark?

EXCERPT:

“Where are we going?” Wyndi asked.

“My room.” Five rapid heartbeats later, they were inside his bedroom with Petúr kicking the door closed behind them. “I need to know something,” he said in his honey tones.

Wyndi glanced up at him from under her lashes, and shivered. He was staring at her with eyes glinting gold. The braid he wore in his hair dangled down the right side of his cheek, tickling her.

“What do you want to know?”

“This.”

Petúr bent his head, slanted his mouth over hers, tongue tasting the line of her lips until she parted them on an intake of breath. When their flesh met, she closed her eyes. Fireworks exploded inside her head, the luminous sparks floating, then falling, falling, and transitioning into a force crashing down over her—a title wave of longing. She moaned, tasting the summer sky, morning dew, the sweetness of rainbows, sultry nights, and rain storms.

Mind whirling, her body shifting, she was lying on her back, fingers tangled into the nape of Petúr’s satiny hair, the other hand pressed against the steely strength of his shirt-covered chest. Every part of her became aware of him on some sort of molecular level. Yet nothing could have prepared her for what she experienced when he tucked himself between her thighs and groaned. Heat slammed into her core. Her stomach quivered. Her panties dampened. An inferno. Yes, surely it must be an inferno which lapped at her skin while their tongues tangled into infinity.

****

 Petúr was lost in an ocean of sensation, wave after wave, pulling him under. The connection to this woman beneath him was undeniable. Everything about Wyndi filled him up until there was nothing but her. Her taste. Her touch. Her scent. His chest expanded.

Damn, her scent. She tasted better than the cotton candy fragrance that wafted from her skin. Skin. Oh, yes, skin. That’s what he needed, to feel her soft skin against his.

“Wyndi.” He breathed, saddened to break the kiss, reaching over his shoulder, yanking the material of his shirt, lifting up with the other hand, and pulling the garment from over his head. “I must feel your flesh against mine.”

Her tongue darted out, licking her lips. Was she nervous? Well, he’d be the balm to soothe those nerves. He focused on her mouth. Those delicious lips were kiss swollen and moist, making his cock strain even more against the constraint of his pants.

“Okay,” she said in a small, breathy voice, the lids covering her blue eyes at half-mast.

He reached for the hem of the too big nightshirt covering the body he had to see, lifting until he revealed her little white panties and lacy bra covered breasts. Blood raced through his veins. He wanted to do everything with her. To her. Touch all over. Taste every inch of her. Put his fingers and cock into the tight, warm sheath he knew was awaiting him.

Take her. Hell yeah. Those two words became a chant within his mind. He wanted to take his woman in every position he could imagine and then some. His woman? Yes. Yes she was his, or would be. Slow your roll. You don’t want to scare her. He had to maintain. He couldn’t go at her like some out of control beast.

Leaning down, he kissed between the creamy mounds of her cleavage, skimmed his cheek across the apex of her right breast, watching goose bumps scatter across her flesh in a wanton invitation. Unable to stop himself from licking her, he lapped at her in one, long, lingering stroke, from the top edge of the bra, up her collarbone, only stopping because the material he’d lifted hindered his progress being bunched around her neck.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered. “You taste so good.”  

LINKS:

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/London-Saint-James/e/B005I7KJWY/

ARe Author Page: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=London+Saint+James

Barnes & Noble Author Page: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/london-saint-james

LSJ Romance: http://www.londonsaintjames.com/evernight-publishing.html

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-riseofthelostprince-1740485-340.html

The Wolves Are Back In Town With The Beta's Beloved!

At long last the Wolves of Flathead are back and they're bigger, better, and sexier than ever!

BUY

Blurb:

A year after Declan Adair crashed into Carson territory and into the alpha Law’s heart, things have finally settled down. Except for the fact that Trace Carson, Law’s brother and right-hand wolf, is head over heels for the fiery but skittish Lachlan, Declan’s identical twin brother. The entire pack, including both of their brothers, knows how Trace feels about Lachlan. The only problem is that Lachlan seems completely oblivious to Trace’s interest.

Trace, in a final attempt to woo the elusive Lachlan, whisks him away to the northern reaches of the territory and a remote cabin deep in the heart of the forest. Trace hopes that he can convince Lachlan to give him the chance he needs to prove himself before someone else swoops in and takes his beloved away. Trace will do anything to prove to Lachlan that he can be the man and the wolf for him.

Be Warned: m/m sex, knotting

Excerpt:

They were both panting when he finally broke the kiss. Lachlan’s face was flushed, and his eyes were bright, and he was so beautiful Trace could barely breathe.

“Can I?” Trace asked as he let Lachlan go so he could trail his hands down the smooth line of Lachlan’s chest to fiddle with the waistband of his borrowed sweat pants.

Lachlan nodded his agreement and Trace slowly hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down and off. He tossed the pants in the direction of the couch, attention focused on the way Lachlan’s half hard cock bobbed against the smooth line of his stomach. Trace relished the hiss Lachlan released when he wrapped a hand around his cock and tugged. Lachlan was smooth in his hand, hot and hard and utterly tempting. He swiped his thumb across the head and grinned when Lachlan moaned and bucked up into his grip. Trace watched the way Lachlan’s eyes fluttered closed and couldn’t help but frown lightly at the way he bit lightly at his lower lip in an effort to stay quiet.

“Don’t do that.” Trace thumbed at Lachlan’s mouth with his free hand as he twisted his other to give Lachlan’s cock a firm upstroke. “I want to hear you.”

Lachlan moaned loudly in response, pushed his hips up lightly into the firm grip that Trace had on his cock. He didn’t try to stifle himself again, and Trace had to ignore the way his own cock throbbed with want at the sounds Lachlan emitted as he stroked him.

Trace moved out from between Lachlan’s thighs so he could settle onto the rug beside him. He played with Lachlan lazily for a few moments, did his best to remember every twitch and shudder he managed to wring out of him. Lachlan’s flush grew, spread across the high arches of his cheeks and down his neck and chest. He could smell Lachlan’s arousal in the air still, thicker than ever before, could feel the way Lachlan was approaching the edge, muscles tense and breathing heavy.

Trace pushed him further along with a few more strokes and then he abruptly stopped. Lachlan whined at him in protest, bucked his hips up and tried to entice him back, but Trace just grinned down at into his flushed face. Trace leaned down and took Lachlan’s mouth in another deep kiss. Before he pulled back Trace grabbed one of Lachlan’s hands and guided it towards Lachlan’s cock.

“I want to watch,” Trace rasped. Lachlan jerked and stared up at him in surprise, but Trace just leaned over and ran the flat of his tongue across Lachlan’s nipple. “I want you to do it.”