I can’t help being excited, because MERCY AND REDEMPTION will be available in paperback on December 23, 2013. Click here to pre-order now. Of course, if you can’t wait to read the story of Mercy and her two heroes, it’s already out in digital format at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Sony, and other electronic outlets. This is the second book in my MERCY series (the first one was PUNISHMENT AND MERCY). I've just turned in book #3 to my editor and will post further information as soon as I hear from her.
Regardless of which format you choose, here’s the blurb for MERCY AND REDEMPTION:
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Searching in an old cemetery for likely gravestones to illustrate her colonial cookbook, Mercy Howe meets two hunks who are tracing their ancestry and sparks fly. Literally.
When Mercy casually touches Seth and Adam, her vividly erotic vision involving all three of them feels like a memory, not a dream, and awakens long-dormant sexual urges. Their kisses are achingly familiar, and she welcomes each in turn into her body. Then she spends a no-holds-barred weekend with both men in her bed and discovers an intimacy—and a past—that blows her mind.
As memories resurface from three hundred years ago, Mercy will have to choose whether to relive the experiences from their joint past or forge a new bond with either Seth or Adam. Or both.
This excerpt from MERCY AND REDEMPTION features Mercy with Adam. It is a little more X-rated than the excerpt (with Seth) posted at the vendors' sites. But it's still not the hottest scene; just wait until Mercy gets both of them in her bed at the same time!
“Step out,” he ordered softly. She did, taking his proffered hand for balance, and he scooped up the dress to place it with care on a nearby dresser. He turned to study her for a long moment, at last blowing out a long breath, almost like a whistle. “Lady, what you do to my blood pressure. The sight of you in those scraps of lace makes me weak.”
They were mere scraps, she thought idly, the silk-and-lace bra artfully constructed to lift her breasts and offer cleavage, the panties with their black triangles and half-inch-wide elastic covering just enough to play peekaboo with total nudity. Having him standing before her in his Italian suit while she was thus exposed gave her a decadent thrill. She could feel her panties becoming saturated.
“Take your hair down.” It was a mere rasp, as though he had not nearly enough air to speak.
With a sultry smile, she raised her arms and began to pull out the myriad pins the hairdresser had inserted so artfully this morning. The mass of hair cascaded down to her shoulders as she withdrew pin after pin and placed them in his outstretched palm. In the back of her mind, this too felt like something she’d done before.
He laid the pile of pins on the bedside table, the metallic tinkle pleasant in the silence of their mutual haze. Then he lifted his arms to run his hands through the disheveled mass of her hair, rubbing the strands between his thumb and fingers.
As if she could, with him devouring her like that with his eyes. As if she could move away from her Adam, from the joy and ecstasy she knew he could provide.
Lowering his arms from her hair, he stretched one hand out, touched her clavicle with one finger, traced a trail down the center of one breast. He deliberately scraped her nipple with a fingernail, then moved on a slight diagonal, down and down to the damp triangle of her sex, sliding the finger across her plump and aching lips and down her opposite thigh, knee, calf, ending at the tip of her stiletto.
On his knees, he looked up at her, his pupils overtaking the green of his eyes until only a thin line of color remained, lust painting his face as his finger retraced its trip until it reached her panties.
“There,” he said, gently probing between her legs. “What do you think I should do right…there?”
She shuddered. “Adam,” she said faintly. “You know what to do.”
He smiled a wolfish smile. “I surely do, darlin’, but I want to know what you want me to do.”
He’d done this before, she remembered, once he’d been sure of her love. He would tease her until she’d had to beg for what she wanted, had to say the words that had made her blush until her dying day, although speaking the words had heightened her lust rather than diminished it.
“Fuck me, Adam. I want you to fuck me. Hard. The way only you can.”
In a blur of seconds, Adam stripped naked, his own clothes tossed helter-skelter, then tugged the flimsy waistband of her panties and let them slide down and dangle from one foot. He tossed her onto the bed, shoes and bra still intact. Quickly he sheathed himself and mounted her, grabbing her by the thighs, shoving her legs up so her knees nearly touched her shoulders.
“You want hard, baby? You got it.” He plunged into her in one long, hard stroke, barely giving her a glimpse of his long, thick cock before it disappeared into her. True to his word, he thrust with the power of a jackhammer, stabbing in and out with a quick, harsh rhythm that brought her to a sudden, devastating climax.
“Adam!” In that instant of sheer ecstasy, with him still slamming into her, she saw all the years they’d shared, all the orgasms they’d given each other, the dreams that were really memories, the harsh conditions of living in the days before there was a United States of America.
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Wishing everyone a happy, healthy and peaceful Christmas. And happy reading!
~~ Cris Anson