Sunday, July 3, 2011


Six paragraphs from one of my novels. 

Today they're from CUT GLASS: JEWELS, Book 1 - Diamond
A dark erotic urban fantasy available from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid

(Photo: Detective David Fellowes)

Cutler blinked. The man was staring at her in shock, and the first thing that came to mind was that he hadn't been expecting a female to slip through their guard. At the same time, she couldn't help but take in the man holding a Walther PPK parallel to her nose.
Without having to drop her gaze she could already tell the man was built, sporting a wide chest, slender waist, and powerful thighs. He was strong, without an ounce of flab, and resilient. And too damn good at his job. Worse, he was exuding something warm and wonderfully erotic. A fragrance, and aura. Hell, it was impossible to tell with everything else that was going on. Still, Cutler could feel her body reaching for him, her female hormones lured toward the possessive power he'd netted her in. Stunned, she tried to fake him out as she felt herself oozing through her jeans.
“Yes, Detective. I was there to put it down. Not him, not Jonas Poll, but the creature he'll become once his brain has turned to mush. My job is to stop the disease from spreading, and Poll knows that. The thing inside him is not a cancer. It's a living organism, like a virus, but it's also sentient. It infects indiscriminately. The company I work for tracks the disease. Yes, I need to kill Poll, but not because he's infected. I have to do it to save the lives of the people he'll kill, and then the lives he'll take once he leaves Poll's dead body to find another host. The infestation's already at stage four, which means he's primed to kill. And he'll keep on killing if no one stops him.
"What good is the shard to anyone? As an actual gemstone, any half-ass decent gemologist will tell you it's not real. Once they're dead they're more like-like rhinestones. You know that, Bar," Cutler pointed out. "Unless the thief has some sort of vendetta against me or something."
She winced against the bullet of pain piercing her brain. This wasn't happening. All this crap that Bar was telling her was a joke. No, it was a nightmare. She was dreaming this, and any minute now she was going wake up in David's arms, or with him cuddled up next to her. And he would hold her and shush her, and then make love to her to erase the last bits of horror left clinging to her psyche.
A feeling of intense emptiness came over him. Numb, he watched as halfway down the block the ambulance finally turned on its lights. Two more blocks away, it hit its siren. David watched the diminishing red taillights until the ambulance finally disappeared around a corner, taking away the last bit of hope he had of ever seeing Cutler Glass again, alive or dead.

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