Excerpts from Julie Kenner and Cherise Sinclair of 1001 Dark Nights

HEA shares excerpts from Caress of Pleasure (coming April 28) by Julie Kenner and from Master of Freedom: A Mountain Masters Novella (coming April 14) by Cherise Sinclair. Both are novellas in the 1001 Dark Nights collection, and Julie and Cherise are introducing us to their stories.

First up, Julie ...

Julie: Immortality.

From the outside, it sounds like an amazing gift.

But there is a price to pay, too, as the men and women in my Dark Pleasures series know only too well.

In Caress of Pleasure, that price is loneliness. How can an immortal man bear to watch his love grow old? To feel the weight of that loneliness a century from now, when death has taken her from him?

Thirteen years ago, Dante reluctantly walked away from the woman he loved in order to not only protect his secret, but to protect his love, both body and heart. Now, she's back in his life, older and stronger and more beautiful than ever. And Dante knows that he will never survive eternity if he can't find a way to both win her back, and make certain that theirs is a love that will last through time.

EXCERPT

"Do you remember the guy you dated when we lived in London?" Whitney asked.

I gaped at her. "You're kidding, right?" I dated only one man in London, and it was the most emotional, sensual, mind-blowing relationship of my life. It was also the relationship that ripped my heart out, stomped on it, kicked it to the curb, and had me swearing off men for over a year. Which on the whole was a good thing. After all, battery-operated boyfriends don't tell you they love you and then walk off into the sunset on the arm of another woman.

Whitney had the decency to wince a bit, even as her cheeks turned pink. "Sorry. That was stupid. I mean, you don't forget the biggest asshole to ever warm your bed, right?"

I pressed my hand over hers and looked her deep in the eyes. "Whitney, I love you. But you get no more martinis. I mean, why are we even talking about this?"

"What was his name?"

I really didn't want to talk about that, but like the Energizer Bunny, Whitney would just keep going and going.

Besides, I could say his name without it hurting. It had been thirteen years. My wounds had healed and my scars had faded. "Dante," I said. "Why?"

"Because I think he's over there, just a few tables behind you."

Suddenly, it turned very, very cold in there. And at the same time, it was very, very warm. Beads of sweat popped up at the base of my neck, and my underarms felt suddenly damp. Honestly, I was having a little trouble breathing.

Not possible. Absolutely not possible.

I reached for my martini and took a long swallow. And then I took another.

"No way," I said, as the warmth of the flush of alcohol hit my veins. "Why on earth would he be in New York?"

"You're in New York. I'm in New York."

"Yes, but—" Okay, actually, she had a point.

"Aren't you going to turn around?"

I sat perfectly still.

"Well?" Whitney demanded.

"Give me a second. I'm thinking." Honestly, I knew I shouldn't look. Dante Storm had swept into my life just as his name suggested. I'd been twenty-three at the time, awed and amazed that a man fifteen years older than me would be even remotely interested in a somewhat introverted girl who couldn't even make up her mind what canapé to choose, much less what to do with herself for the rest of her life.

We'd met at a party thrown by the owner of Dashiell's, an auction house on par with Christie's or Sotheby's. I was spending a year abroad, interning there while I tried to decide if I wanted to simply jump headfirst into life or go back to the States and finish my dissertation.

I suppose I was primed for a distraction, and Dante was a distraction times ten. Even now, I could feel the way my chest tightened and my pulse kicked up when he walked through the wide double doors, the black dinner jacket and slacks making him look like a man from another era. A man with dark blond hair swept back from his face in a way that highlighted his hypnotic, golden eyes. His wide shoulders looked as though they could bear the weight of the world, and something about his regal posture suggested that they did.

I'd never seen him before, and I had studied Dashiell's customer list. Even so, he strode into the room like he owned it—and drew the attention of every person in there, male and female, as he did.

How is it possible that I can barely remember the name of the guy I slept with last week, and yet I can recall everything about Dante? His scent, all spice and musk with just a hint of cinnamon. His touch, so deceptively gentle that when it turned rough it was all the more exciting. The scar that sliced from shoulder down to his hip bone. A souvenir, he'd called it. But I'd dubbed it a map, and let my kisses follow it home.

And his tattoos. Five amazing, brilliantly colored birds in a cluster on his back. Phoenixes, he'd told me.

He'd had a way of making me feel alive. Beautiful. Vibrant.

With Dante, I felt as though I was lit from the inside. At least until he'd snuffed that light out for good.

He'd hurt me, more than I'd ever been hurt before or since. And I absolutely, one-hundred percent had no interest in seeing him now.

Really.

Oh, hell.

I turned.

And the moment I did, I was certain I'd made the biggest mistake of my life.

Find out more about Julie Kenner and her books at juliekenner.com.

—

And here's the excerpt from Master of Freedom: A Mountain Masters Novella by Cherise Sinclair, introduced by Cherise …

Cherise: I'm delighted to be meeting y'all on the HEA blog today. Thank you for the invitation!

I often get questions about where my heroes come from. Oddly enough, many come from previous books where they refused to stay secondary characters. Typical Doms, right?

Atticus Ware first appeared in Edge of the Enforcer. I fell for him, this big detective transplant from Idaho, surrounded by blood and death, lightening the atmosphere for the injured. Why didn't the big, tough Dominant have a woman?

Obviously, I needed to find him someone who could match both his big heart and his courage. Lucky for him, I did. What a shame he screws up the wonderful opportunity I gave him. LOL

Here's an excerpt for you, and I hope you enjoy the latest in the Mountain Masters series!

EXCERPT

"That a girl." Atticus's low rumble barely reached Gin as he coached a little girl up the climbing wall. "Look at the peg to the right of your foot. If you move there, you'll be able to reach the next handhold. And then you can figure out the rest."

Upper lip pulled between her teeth, the child studied his solution. "I see it!" Eyes bright with delight, the girl shifted her weight, carefully gripped the peg Atticus had indicated, and then charged upward right to the top.

Cheering broke out.

When she waved her small fist in victory, he grinned.

Gin's heart gave a wrenching tug. Why did seeing his open pleasure in the child's success make her want to laugh and cry and hug him? This man was something special.

Behind her came a high scream.

Startled, she spun around.

On the boardwalk, the preschooler with the tiger stripes had fallen. As blood ran down his knee, he wailed loudly. The little girl with him burst into tears of sympathy.

"The Bassinger kids," Becca said. "Their mother lets them run wild." She nudged the gawkers to one side and sailed through.

Gin followed. "I'll take the boy."

As Becca knelt beside the girl, Gin sat down next to the little boy. "Oh, honey, you've got yourself a boo-boo there, don't you?"

Without further invitation, he flung himself into her arms, almost knocking her over.

"Well, sugar." Half laughing, she set her purse down, snuggling and rearranging him on her lap. "Let's take a look then, honeyboy." Not more than a shallow abrasion, she decided. Pointing to the barrel of bottled waters, she lifted her voice to the surrounding people. "Will someone fetch me one of those, please."

A second later, she heard a bottle cracked open, and the chilled plastic was placed in her hand. "Thank you," she said without looking up.

A dowsing of water washed away the dirt from the scrape and made the little boy whine. His head stayed firmly buried against her shoulder.

As his skin dried, she used her free hand to dig in her purse. She hadn't removed her mini first aid packet from when she worked at the family clinic. There. A quick glance showed the options. "Honey, do you want a butterfly or a Transformer on your knee?"

The boy's head popped up. He solemnly studied the Band-Aids she held up. A shaky finger pointed to the Transformer.

"Excellent choice, darling." But she couldn't reach his knee with both hands. "Let's move you—"

His arms squeezed her waist. He wasn't going to budge, was he?

"Well, then…"

A low chuckle came from above her, and Atticus knelt beside them. "You look like you've been in a battle there, soldier," he said. "How about I cover your wounds up?"

A thumb in the mouth prevented any reply, but big eyes watched the cop as he plucked the Band-Aid from Gin's hand, tore it open, and applied it fast and easy. Only a little squirm showed the child had felt anything.

"Well, there, don't you look fine?" Gin kept her gaze on the Band-Aid, not on Atticus's lean fingers. Was the man good at everything? Ropes and orgasms…and Band-Aids. "Can you thank the detective?"

His thank you was garbled by the thumb still in his mouth.

"There's their mother." Becca set the girl down and pointed toward the grocery store.

"Mama!" The girl dashed across the street.

The boy scrambled up, almost tripped again, and followed his sister, all owies forgotten.

Grinning, Gin watched as the two barreled into their mother, almost spilling her sack of groceries. Shaking her head, the woman bent to examine the owie. She might not watch them as closely as she should, but there was love there.

"All fixed." Becca glanced at Atticus, then Gin. "I'm going to grab some barbecue. I'll get you some too, Gin." Without waiting, she headed across the street.

While Gin was still staring after her, Atticus smoothly rose to his feet. He grasped Gin's upper arms and pulled her up. "You did a nice job there, counselor. You're good with injured soldiers."

The compliment warmed her heart and left her at a loss for words. "Ah, thank you."

He regarded her thoughtfully, making her too, too aware of his size and the strength in the fingers still curled around her arms. He was holding her in place. The knowledge sent a shiver up her spine.

"Gin," he said softly. "Seems like we're not done with each other."

What? "But—yes, we are."

He touched her cheek, watching her intently. Could he see the way she melted inside?

He could. "Liar. I won't push you…here. But I'll be at Jake and Kallie's party tomorrow night."

When she couldn't manage more than a stare, she saw his smile, sharp as a scimitar. "That's an invitation to play, pet." He ran a finger down her cheek, then sauntered away toward the climbing wall.

Find out more about Cherise Sinclair and her books at cherisesinclair.com.