Thank
you so much for having me on your blog today, Amber! It’s great to be here to
help spread the word about my sinfully sexy warriors and their magical Druid
heroines!
Amber: You're welcome here anytime. Let's find out more about those warriors!
What
does your family think of your writing career?
My
teenage son was very excited at the thought of me writing a book set in Roman
times. Big swords! Lots of bloodied battles! Then I told him it was a romance
and for some reason he was no longer interested! My two daughters are very
proud of what I do and are happy to tell people that I write erotic romance.
However, they’ve yet to read any of my books because, well… I’m their mother!!!
Does your significant other read your stuff?
Before
I was published whenever I offered any of my stuff to my husband to read, he’d
get that rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights look in his eyes. But after my first
book, FORBIDDEN, was published, he did eventually pick it up and flick through
it. The first chapter either hooked him in or shocked him rigid, since he then
went on to finish the entire book J Mind you, he hasn’t read any of my other
books yet!
Do you have critique partners or beta readers?
I
have two fabulous CPs. We met nearly ten years ago on the eHarlequin boards
where we were all unpublished and targeting different lines. We’ve been
together through the highs and lows and I can’t imagine sending anything to my
editor that hasn’t first gone through my CPs. Although we all started off
targeting category romance, my CPs now write YA and MG while I write erotic
romance J
Who are your books published with?
I
have three books out with Berkley Heat – FORBIDDEN and CAPTIVE under my
Christina Phillips name and ARCHANGEL OF MERCY
under my Christina Ashcroft name. The third book set in my Roman/Druid world, BETR AYED, is out with Ellora’s Cave, and I have
several more books contacted with EC although no release dates yet.
What songs are most played on your Ipod?
Whenever
I need inspiration I more often than not turn to an old favorite – Meat Loaf’s Bat
Out of Hell. The lyrics to Crying Out Loud slay me every time.
Those songs are full of angst and conflict and are dark and sexy. Seriously!
What’s not to love about them?
Amber: I'm with you on this one! Love Meat Loaf.
Any
meal that I don’t have to cook. Honestly, I’m very easy to please!!!
Amber: LOL Me too!
What would we find under your bed?
Monster
dust bunnies. Actually they’ve evolved into dust dragons…
Blurb:
Betrayed
Christina
Phillips
In 51 A.D., Druid priestess Nimue is injured and enslaved by
the hated Roman Legions. Even though she is drawn to her captor, she’s
determined to escape and complete her mission for the Briton king and her duty
to Arianrhod, the goddess she
is bound to.
The tough Roman warrior who captures her is far from the
brutal barbarian she expects. His touch inflames her desires and passion burns
between them. Though Nimue does not accept her enslavement, her heart
surrenders to her enemy. When Arianrhod appears to her in the form of an owl,
Nimue knows the union is blessed.
Roman warrior Tacitus is enchanted by the fiery beauty who
shows no fear and challenges him at every turn. Though enslaving her goes
against his heart, he’s determined to make her his. No woman has ever heated
his blood as she does. But when he discovers her true nature as one who
actually communes with the gods, his loyalties are torn between his heritage
and a woman who could destroy everything he’s ever believed in.
Excerpt:
Still
holding her in his arms Tacitus lowered his head toward her, no longer caring
of the open tent flap, the proximity of the legionary or the fact he was still
on duty. All he could see, all he could feel was the woman nestled so
seductively against his chest, her breasts pressed against him while her palm
caressed his jaw.
Her lips
parted and her breath was sweet, like incense. Blood pounded, pulses hammered
yet with rigid restraint, he brushed the most chaste of kisses across those
tempting lips.
So soft.
So full of promise. So deliciously responsive. She lifted her head and instead
of breaking contact, he captured her lips once again. Nothing chaste about this
kiss. Their mouths clung together as if nothing else in the world existed.
She wound
her hand around the nape of his neck. Her fingers speared through his hair,
scraping across the base of his skull. Desire spiked through his groin, her
touch as potent as if she had grasped his cock, and restraint splintered.
He slid
his tongue inside her open mouth and she sucked on him, sudden and hard and
unbelievably shocking. He withdrew, a slow slide against her wet flesh then
thrust into her again, teasing the roof of her mouth, and claimed the strangled
moans that vibrated from her throat.
Fingernails
dug into his scalp, primitive and wild. His hand closed over the mound of her
breast, filling his palm. Her nipple was hard through the material of her gown,
and with a primal growl, he rubbed the tips of his fingers over the erect nub.
Backward and forward. Increasing the pressure. She squirmed in his arms, her
muffled moans of pleasure stoking his need.
He needed
to lay her down. Rip off her gown. Explore her writhing body.
The
exhilarating vision of her laying naked on his bed hammered in his mind. She
was willing. She did not know she was a slave. He could fuck her, make her
come, give her such pleasure that when she discovered the truth she wouldn’t
feel as if she had been used at all.
Her sweet
taste slid insidiously into his senses, heady and somehow illicit. The tips of
their tongues touched; clung, and it was mindlessly erotic.
Somehow,
he stumbled to the bed. Curse this primitive camp. He wanted his own bed, but
this makeshift one would have to do. Carefully he lowered her, his mouth still
claiming hers—or was she claiming his?—and as he laid her down the light
diminished.
He
scarcely noticed. Tearing his mouth from her, he panted down into her face,
relishing the jagged gasps of her breath, the way her fingers dug into the back
of his neck, the way her breasts heaved beneath her soft gown.
The way
her left arm was immobilized in a sling.
For a
moment he stared, uncomprehending. She was injured and he had been about to fuck
her?
“Roman.”
The word was scarcely above a whisper, and wrapped around his reeling senses
like a seductive embrace of purest silk. Her right hand slid from his neck,
over his shoulder and along his arm. It was a light caress and yet as arousing
as if she slid her naked body along him instead.
Gods. What
was he thinking? Marcellus had warned him not to have her tonight. She was
injured. She was under the influence of opium.
She was
his slave.
Still, he
couldn’t move. He remained kneeling on the floor beside her as her hand curled
around his wrist. The light was oddly dimmed and yet he could see her delicate
features and the fragile outline of her enticing body. And still he could not
find the strength of will to stand up and leave.
“Are you
man enough for me, Roman?” Her words were heated, provocative. A blatant
challenge. “I’ve never had a barbarian before.” She smiled, as if that thought
gave her great amusement and he battled against the renewed lust that thundered
through his blood at her taunts.
“You will
lie here and rest.” It was an order. Any other woman—any other man—would have
instantly quailed. But this Celt, this slave—who did not even know she was a
slave—merely offered him another sultry smile and pulled on his hand.
He didn’t
resist.
She
dragged his hand between her thighs and pressed him against her slick core. Air
hissed between his clenched teeth as her feminine dampness caressed his
fingers, as she rolled her hips and a breathy sigh escaped her lips.
“Don’t you
want me, Roman?” She increased pressure on his hand and of their own volition his
fingers pushed against her soft gown, seeking and finding the wet opening of
her welcoming pussy.
Primal
need thudded through his veins, tightened his rock-hard balls. This was
madness. Feverishly his fingers bunched up her gown, exposing her thighs, until
he gripped the material and wrenched it up to her waist.
Honey-blonde
curls crowned her glistening lips, her flesh plump and pink and deliriously
tantalizing. Mesmerized by the sheer eroticism of how she angled her hips
toward him and by her evocative musky scent that caused his cock to thicken, he
couldn’t remember why taking her was such a bad idea.
He trailed
the tips of his fingers over her belly and then lower, teasing her soft curls.
She sighed in evident pleasure and collapsed back onto the pallet as if she no
longer possessed the strength to entice him. But he needed no additional
enticement.
Everything
he needed was here, between her spread thighs.
She was
wet and hot. His finger slid along her cleft, her soft folds promising a wild,
unforgettable ride. Breath rasped along his throat, need pounded through his
groin, sanity sank beyond the fiery horizon.
She was
willing. She was ready. And she was his.
Buy Link:
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BETRAYED for only $4.38!
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