You could win a $75 gift certificate to an e-book store of your choice
or many other wonderful prizes.
In my erotic fantasy romance, Remedy Maker, conservation is a way of life. Here’s a snippet to entice you to go solar:
terrified echoed through the corridors of Rhycious’s mind. Shouts from warriors
and cries of agony ebbed away, the pounding of his heart decreased.
hands, forcing himself to concentrate on the picturesque view of the Boronda
Forest beyond his kitchen window.
lay scattered in his reminiscence like the deadfall they were. He and his team of medics couldn’t keep up
with the gruesome injuries. Body parts flung high in trees, left to hang,
picked clean by scavengers.
had fallen hours ago and no Wood Nymphs attacked his fellow herdsmen. No such war
existed between races any longer.
horrific scenes were in his mind, exhumed by his traumatized memory.
his forehead. Rhycious fought the flashback’s wave with even, regulated breaths.
Gritted teeth unclenched one facial muscle at a time, his back straightened
with determination, vertebrae by vertebrae.
the battle that had lasted two centuries, but the clashing races damn well made
it his emotional baggage.
the anchoring grasp of one hand and raised his wrist to see the time. The
tremble in his arm caused the digital numbers to dance before his eyes. Pan, help me. The god who reigned over
terror and panic must be having a good laugh on his account.
from the boom box he’d rigged to a solar battery on the granite counter.
Sliding notes of electric guitars drove home the time in which he lived.
imploded within the Centaur community, no outside sources required. Senior herd
leaders remained prejudiced against Satyrs, Minotaurs, and other woodland
races—Nymphs topping the list.