Fantasies. Food. Flames. Firestorm by a.c. Mason
As part of the Decadent Publishing Interracial and Multicultural Blog tour today I am joined by the lovely, wildly talented french Canadian Author, a.c. Mason. Thank you so much for joining us at Major Love~~~Major Romance.
I don’t know about you but I often have fantasies about food. No, really I do. Not just any kind of nourishment but Soul Food. Admittedly my Nana makes a mean corn bread. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good in my life. Hot out of the oven I shoved a bunch of butter between to pieces and it melted into the bread. That ruined me for just regular old bread for a long time. The one problem is I’ve yet to find good corn bread in Canada. I’m lucky that my Nana lives in Cheektowaga, New York which is only a few hours from where I live. So part of my reason for wanting to write the Soul Food Diner Series was a chance to talk about soul food. Another reason was the Sunsational Malibu Christie Barbie. She was my first black Barbie and from Malibu. When I grew up I wanted to hangout in Malibu too. Then there was the movie Clueless and I know it was set in Beverly Hills but who doesn’t remember Dionne? So voila all this jumbled stuff in my head and I set the Soul Food Dinner series in Malibu with interracial and black heroines. Surrendering to the Right Man is born.
Indy Kent’s motorcycle accident last New Year’s Eve forced her to fight for things she took for granted. This holiday she makes a special request of her best friend, Liam Boyd, the “I want you to deflower me.” Desperate to get Liam out of her system, a holiday sexcapade seems like just the cure from her long harbored, unreciprocated feelings.
But there is a complication, and his name is Tim, Liam’s older brother. Tim’s touch last New Year’s Eve ignited an unexpected flame between them. The time they
spent together during her recovery only furthered her attachment to him. Emotions whirl; her secret looms. The hotter the burn between the sheets with Liam, the
more Indy’s yearning drifts toward Tim.
The incident that caused her accident and changed her life might save her heart.
Can she ultimately surrender her heart to the right man?
This book contains graphic sex including some traditionally considered taboo. A love triangle. Voyeurism. Light to mid-range discipline, dominance, and submission.
A spasm in Indy’s leg forced her to clench her teeth together. She hated not being able to stand on her own two feet. The pain she was in wasn’t about to force her to remain seated.
“Are you okay?” Tim’s eyes softened with concern.
“I still get the tremors, ghost sensations from muscles I no longer have.” To reconstruct her leg, the doctors had used muscles from donors. She felt sewn together by patchwork, like Frankenstein a quilt of mismatched pieces.
“You push yourself too hard, always have. I like that about you, but you need someone who’ll help you ease off.” He drew up behind her. “Put your weight on me.”
“Do it,” he ordered.
As he gathered her up, the heat of his hard chest pressed to her back, and he lowered her into the lawn chair. “Bossy.”
“Only around you, Miss Independent.” The rise and fall of his chest accelerated. Calm, blue eyes warmed to flames.
Heat weaved a path in her insides turning her to mush.
“I’d better go.” He tossed his bag on his shoulder.
Pain burned her eyes. Being with Liam meant loosing Tim, and she needed him. “You shouldn’t go just because the others have.”
Tim lifted her chin, forcing her gaze to his. “Yes, I should. Merry Christmas Eve, Indy, and I hope Santa gets you your heart’s desire.”
“You, too.” She nodded and grabbed his large, warm, kind hand. In April, his hands had stabilized her when she took her first steps since the accident.
“Unfortunately, mine is no longer available. Never really was for that matter.” He exhaled. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
She tightened her hold. “Tim, thank you for everything. I don’t know how I would have managed without your help and support.”
“It’s the least I could do, given—”
“Given what?” Liam asked, standing by the open gate to the backyard.
“What she went through. I hope you both have a wonderful evening.” Tim dashed passed his brother.
That was close. Though nothing had happened between her and Tim, she felt guilty. She didn’t want to deceive Liam, but he wouldn’t understand the connection which came out of that night between them. How could he when she struggled to understand?
Now let me go back to a conversation I was having with fellow author Toni Kelly this summer about a Haboob, which started the entire idea. Yes, you read that correctly a Haboob. I thought what the heck is that too? So she explained about this wall of sand that comes right at you. Apparently they occur in places like Phoenix. It reminded me of the mythological bird. Just then I thought about this 1 Night Stand I wanted to write and how I desire to do something unique and different.
I thought Mason wouldn’t it be cool to have a race of Phoenixes? (Sometimes I talk to myself.) In my usual Mason style I did some research of the mythology of the Greek and Persians views of Phoenixes. Then I sat there thinking about how the technicalities would work. The only hot bird man I could think of was Brendan Lee in The Crow. So I needed to come up with some searing material for the birth of my supernatural beings.
Here’s a feathers tickle of a fantasy of flames, Firestorm.
Interracial Paranormal Erotic (Ménage, Romance, Multicultural)
Master Explosive Ordnance Disposal Officer, Era Bennu has a thing for combustible situations. All she wants is one smokin’ night with two hot supernaturals before she goes out in blaze of glory on her current mission.
Scorch marks are the insignia of the Phoenix. This anniversary’s gift for mates Seneb Keita and Cinaed Bryce is explosive. They’re going to savor one searing night with a woman that they can share.
What they get is a firestorm and Era finds serenity in the midst of a roaring blaze.
Can she accept her destiny is to play with fire when she’s the one meant to rise from the ashes?
“Room 201.” Era shoved the email printout in her backpack, removed the room key, and swung the strap onto her shoulder.
Why hadn’t she noticed the irony until now? Two on one. Clever. Not a soul had bothered her through the check-in process as per her instructions. If anyone had, her classic “and whom do you think you are” look would have stopped them dead! If not, she could flash her Secretary of Defense issued hall pass.
“Ecstasy, here I come.” At the age of thirty-two, one last thing remained on her list of desires. Tonight she would strike this fantasy off the list.
So far, Madame Eve seemed to be running a tight operation and appeared to be on the up and up. In less than fourteen minutes, two amazing supernatural males would walk into this very room to give her a night she’d never forget. Maybe her last night on earth. Tomorrow she was Iraq-bound for a Black Ops missio involving a missing diplomat, a terrorist bomb, and her skills to defuse. If such a result could occur. Highly explosive situations were unavoidable in her life. Most of the team would be coming home in pine boxes with flags draped over them; they had a point one percent chance of survival under the circumstance. But for the safety of her fellow Americans, it was a price she would gladly pay. All the team would.
In her haste to get this night squared away, she hadn’t specified what type of supernaturals, just that they be a kind that couldn’t infect or maker her into what they were. Please let them have talents no human male possessed. Not that she knew much about the paranormal. Though she’d always been drawn to the unknown. She had chalked up her fascination with paranormal activity to a desire to escape from the cruelties humans could inflict on each other, which she’d seen firsthand. Tonight was about her.
No matter what her ex had said about her, she wasn’t frigid. So she didn’t want another woman in her bed. She’d be more than happy to be of service to a few good men. Two to start. And then who knows, if after tomorrow dawn rose on another day, and she wasn’t disfigured for life—the world would be hers for the taking. Technically, they weren’t men either they were…. Well, she didn’t know yet.
The hall was vacant. The Castillo Resort even managed to ensure a clear coast on her arrival at her room. What service!
Sin incarnate stood with a towel around his neck.
Win an e-copy of Surrendering to the Right Man answering this question: Who makes the best Soul Food you’ve ever had?
The contest closes Monday at midnight eastern time and is open worldwide except for were prohibited by law.
Born from the union of her Scottish and Belgian mother and an African American and Cherokee father, a.c.Mason’s youth was filled with dichotomies and moving from place to place. She developed a curiosity to explore through writing the seedy side of our nature and desires. Given her own diverse background, she writes stories that represent the world she grew up in. She is fluent in French and English. For the past eight years of her life, she has worked with one foot in the past spanning from 18th century, the Bering Strait theory to modern day and now late Victorian. She advocates the preservation of our natural and cultural riches for future generations. Her stories are the place where darkness meets human desire and fairytales endings are not promised but earned. In 2011 her work was nominated for six 2012 Bookie Awards. If you’d like to learn more about a.c. Mason go to www.acmason.com.