Hi everyone, It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. I always have good intentions, but with two little kids and deadlines, months just go by in the blink of an eye. I’m sure everyone has that problem. First off, I want to give a Contest Alert: This month I’m doing a cross contest with fellow Aphrodisia author Elizabeth Amber, who writes the sexy, historical paranormal Lords of Satyr series. For details, check the contest page at my site http://www.sharonpage.com/contest.htm for a chance to win a copy of Elizabeth’s latest book, LYON, THE LORDS OF SATYR. And for a chance to win my latest, BLACK SILK, check out Elizabeth’s newsletter group http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ElizabethAmber
I’m also thrilled to announce that Blood Red and Blood Rose, my erotic vampire menage stories, are finalists for seven contests, which has been very exciting. Currently, I’m working on Blood Deep, the third book in the series. In this one, my heroes are the villains from the first two stories, so I’m exploring the question—Can the darkest vampires be redeemed by love?
My book currently on the shelves is Black Silk, and I’ve included an excerpt below. Enjoy!
Maryanne watched her raven-haired Lancelot elegantly climb into the basket. Of course, he could do it easily—he had endless legs and wore trousers. Just as she stared helplessly at it, he scooped her effortlessly into his arms. In a froth of hems and petticoats, she was hoisted over the wicker wall and into the basket. As her feet touched the floor of the basket, it came up to meet her. "Ooh!"
The flame illuminated the sculpted planes of his face, his wicked grin as the balloon went up. The basket tilted to the right. She clutched the side. "Goodness."
Swansborough laughed. "But as you each take on orgasmic flight, you must remember to hold on tight," he quoted. He wrapped a hand around the stays that secured their small basket to the enormous balloon and kept the other near the fire box and the ropes that worked the vents.
Below, illuminated by the torches, she saw the men gripping the tether ropes, feeding them through gloved hands.
A lurch to the left, and she tumbled back against his lordship. His large body pressed against her, his arm locked around her waist, and she felt safe—though if the basket tipped, they’d both fall. Why should the thought of falling to their deaths together, sharing disaster, make her feel better?
"Magnificent, isn’t it?"
With her hands gripping the basket, she stared down.
Far below, the torches looked like tiny candle flames, and she could no longer see the men. Men who thought she was going to rut with a viscount here. Men who thought her a courtesan. Don’t think of that.
The Serpentine caught the moonlight, water rippling in the sweet breeze. Dark trees bobbed and swayed, the leaves silver, and the park was a stretch of dark velvet.
She gazed up. Stars dotted the violet skies above the park. And London’s lights were spread out before her. "It’s beautiful." The basket swayed. "And terrifying."