InTrystsTrailer3


Romance Novelist

Author: Melody Knight
Genre: Contemporary/Erotic Romance
ISBN: 9781897445983
Published: January 2009
Cover Artist: Amanda Kelsey

Love, Lust, Life...Lost?What happens when love, lost & buried forever, comes back to haunt you?

Excerpt:

It was sheer gall that got her downstairs, out the door, and into the Plaza. The whole way down the elevator she prayed for rain, ball lightning, flood, a meteor shower, and then, God willing, Sodom, Gomorrah, and a pillar of salt. The truth was, she couldn't remember what he looked like. It was like she told Pam: his was more a trace, a feeling, than a solid image. She hadn't had that much to drink, but then it didn't take much with her, and it had been dark-ish. And, of course, there'd been the element of disbelief. Men just didn't approach her like that. She didn't have the elusive factor to draw in sexual encounters, and if women were flowers, her petals had been closed for the night. Her nightclub fun consisted of prancing on the dance floor with no one and everyone, downing a few drinks she normally wouldn’t have, and those purloined smokes. If anything, the mysterious stranger had been an unwanted complication. He'd required thought and work, for what was otherwise a brainless evening.

            And now, damn it--preparation. Butterfly stomach, blue outfit. Tacked down hair stuck on her head so carefree that a stiff breeze would have acted like a sail. It was good to know her brain had been functioning, though, even under the alcohol fumes. That "dressed in blue" was brilliant. As she sat discreetly on a bench, she noted there must have been a hundred-fifty women in the area dressed in some shade of blue. If his memories were as vague as her own, he'd walk on past her, his ship in the night anchoring in someone else's port. She sighed nervously, wishing for the twelfth time she had a cigarette and a stiff drink, in that order.

            See what he's bringing me to. Men!

 

 http://carnalpassions.com/books/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=1&products_id=7


In Trysts is at Linden Bay Romance !!!
Melody Knight: 

In Trysts

    Camellia Perigord Mackintosh has a secret. The quiet librarian, with a master’s degree in anthropology and an unfortunate predilection for historical research, is a modern day version of Robin Hood who will stop at nothing.
    Jake Hastings is everything that Camellia despises. Incredibly handsome and exceedingly wealthy, the confident government agent has set his sights on catching the notorious felon who’s been breaking all the rules and upsetting the balance of the world’s wealthiest of families, including Jake’s.
    For years Camellia has avoided capture. Cleverly working behind the scenes and using whatever means necessary to shake up the establishment, she’s been helping the descendants of disavowed women reclaim their birthright…and their inheritance. But when the provocative Camellia falls into the arms and bed of the uncompromising spy, she may very well have met her match.
    Melody Knight’s fast-paced suspense romance, In Trysts, is a must read romance. Filled with passion, it will keep you on the edge, make you breathless, and leave you wanting more.

http://www.lindenbayromance.com/product-intrysts-108-149.html

Read an Excerpt from In Trysts

Watch for it and its sequel, In Flames... at Linden Bay Romance

My book, ErRatic, has been signed by Five Star!

Visit my fantasy, SF, horror novels to find out more!

See my latest painting!

The sequel to ~In Trysts~  

REVIEWS

In Flames

1 - "Fast paced and edgy tension highlights this passionate thriller. In Flames is a roller coaster ride of secrets and ghosts and sizzling sensuality. The plot line is solid and kept this reader guessing to the dramatic end. Marco and Sophia are likable individuals that I felt an affinity with from the opening. Melody Knight is an author whose back list I look forward to reading."

Lettetia Elasser

Affaire de Coeur July/August 2008

2 - "Her combustibility and the secrets of her past form the basis for this intriguing mystery." Literary Nymphs http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2008/07/in-flames.html

EXCERPTS

EXCERPTS 

She’d gone down maybe a dozen stairs, following always that acrid smoke smell, her keen sense of smell guiding her. She wound through a maze of tunnels and intersections, Ys, in the dark, arms flailing, trusting to stink and instinct—and all the while dreading what she would find at the end of it.

She had been right to dread. The incinerate glow leached out into the darkness, staining the corridor red and orange. She knew, when she felt the heat emanating from within, that she’d reached Hell.

It was hot and holed and cavernous, and inhabited by maybe a dozen robed figures. The wall lengths were broken by alcoves; flattened bottoms with rounded arches above. A New World solution to Old World catacombs. The roof was a giant rock chute, and the smoke churned, eddied and swirled upwards and out.

The center was an inferno—a stone altar alternately orange, yellow, blue, red, black. Flames licked it, dancing like the wood-coal which fed it. Dying wood which glowed with that peculiar animacy of searing orange and bred in the efforts of sweating men in motion. Their robes flapped and their hoods slipped, as they fought to sustain illusion in the face of toil. Crackle, snap, branches flung and logs thudding against the base. The searing heat made the scene wobble in waves of molten air, and already heated tempers flared to incandescence at the pyre's demands for fuel.

Sophie stood there blankly, wobbling on her feet, blood leaking down her legs. She looked from the altar to the arched crevices around the walls. The dancing orange light picked up the dull dark brown of carbonized bone.

Carbonizing bone.

She was seen…of course. By Damian and not-Damian. They were both there, but only one was hers. The other one, she decided later in her nightmares, had been present only to show her there was more than one demon in Hell.

Damian and not-Damian had hit her, kicked her, pounded her, again and again.

Smoke, fire, flames, corpses.

And the demons danced on.

 

AND

 

Sophie lost him in the smoke and steam. She screamed, choked on soot and swallowed water—then it was all gagging, paddling, churning her way through the wash. The surge was relentless, all troughs and waves, floating wood and falling stone. She was slammed against the wall and felt her shoulder give. Sophie shrieked and fought for air. “Marco!

He had her. Marco grabbed her, and clung. She held onto him weakly, and opened her eyes to find he was smiling.

A death’s head grin. It was Gerald Beaumont.

Sophie!” he cried, clawing at her head, her shoulders, climbing her like a bobbing tree. She was going under, down, when Marco snatched her out of Gerald’s grasp and flung him aside.

But Marco’s hold on her was tenuous, and Beaumont’s frantic antics cost him. Scratch, tear, rip, fling, but in the wildly swirling muddle, of dirt and bone, ash and wood, filthy foam and churning backwash, Sophie was jarred loose from Marco’s grasp once more, out of his reach. He heard her choked off “Marc-!” as she vanished beneath the rising waters.

http://www.lindenbay romance.com/product-inflames-144-149.html
 

Of Dragons

It'll eat you alive...

REVIEWS

1 - "The story is filled with adventure, danger, and conflict. Now that Ryon and his friend know about Glynt's world can they just ignore it or should they get involved? Is Ryon really human as he believes or something more as Glynt believes? If you are looking for an unusual tale of adventure, the strength of the human spirit, and love all rolled into a fantasy story about other dimensions, then you will enjoy Of Dragons.

Reviewed by: Stephanie B.
" http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/2008/April/StephanieB-OfDragons.htm

"Of Dragons is a story that tells of how worlds are connected to each other and how love can become a reality for those who want it. " Literary Nymphs http://literarynymphsreviewsonly.blogspot.com/2008/06/of-dragons.html

EXCERPT

She was nearly dressed when she heard them. The vibration rattled the shiny Christmas ornaments on her dressing table, making the glass ping harshly against the table top.

No!

Her fingers clasped the adamantine dragonfly encircling her neck, as terror quickened her heartbeat. Chills raced down her limbs in spiky little arrays. That sound—that horrifying, buzzing thunder—was one she recognized, deep inside. The fear of them—and their appetites—had been bred into her through a hundred generations.

Glynt ran. Panicked, she fled the bedroom with its flimsy-looking glass and raced for the balcony doors. They were thick fire doors—surely, they could resist the impact?

Ten thousand dragonfly wings…

The daylight went. The thickness of the horde—the sheer mass—was blotting out the sun. Desperate, near-petrified, she yanked the curtains closed.

The ramming slam of ten thousand exoskeletonned bodies splintered the glass, but it didn’t stop the beating—that horrific, mechanical swish of their wings. They were driving themselves at the doors, at the glass, frenzied. Day sounds were lost in the ceaseless roar of overlying wing beats.

In the bedroom, the glass imploded. Shatters of refracted light caught her eye, as they showered the door jamb.

As they blasted through, onto the carpet.

I didn’t close the door.

Her eyes widened in horror, and she raced for the exit. She was nearly to the front door when it began vibrating. They were in the hall, in hunting mode, and desperate to get to her.

Hide.

Where?! Frantic, she ran back to the curtained windows, in hopes of fooling Them. She was out of her element, and hidey holes were nowhere to be found. She cowered down, wrapped herself in curtain fabric, and scrunched into her smallest form. Already, she knew it wouldn’t help—couldn’t help. They were lured. Starving. Driven. Those multifaceted eyes would find her.

Ever hungry, they’d hunt her…on the wing.

http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/index.php?manufacturers_id=83




Reflected Moments...Refracted Terror

REVIEW

"I have to say I've read this one and LOVED it. "

Debbie

 Author of Infidelity (www.deborahgould.com )

EXCERPT

 Cate picked up the slab of glass from its tilted resting spot. It had dropped nearly intact. Her fingers shook as the first tracings of shimmery silica began to move beneath the surface. All those crystalline lattices somehow rearranging themselves…

She froze, her breath frosting the glass from the sudden chill. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as the air around her grew cold.

It had never happened this way before.

The man was lying there, in the glass, his body sprawled with the indignity of all things dead and unburied. Cate's breath caught in her throat, the unspent fog almost choking her. Oh, God!

It wasn't here—hadn't happened here—but it was happening now.

There was an argument lingering, on the air. She couldn't see the moment of confrontation, or the altercation, but it had been about the mutilated body on the ground. About how to deal with it, to cast off blame with as much ease as they'd cast away his life.

Only, they didn't realize he could hear them still. Hear them and hate them.

Because it had always been about his looks. His looks, and justifying what he was. The grave they were giving him, the twisted notoriety they were planning, would leave him neither looks nor justice.

Cate's eyes focused on his face. What they'd done, what they were doing to the rest of him didn't bear watching.

But, apparently, she did. Bear watching, that is.

The corpse's eyes opened, to stare straight at her.

Cate flinched, twitched, recoiled, but she couldn't let go. Some part of her was screaming, but she was no longer sure whether it was her...or him.

She clung to the pane, trapped. When, a forever it seemed, later, she freed her fingers enough to fling it, she remained there rigid, staring, as the moonglow image shattered in a hundred spiky shards.

Some part of her was still recoiling, as if in reflex to a striking snake. 

God help me!

In those instants of metaphysical contact, she felt as though one shriveled digit had touched her. Spanned the gap between life and death—

I'm not a medium!

She'd never been a medium—never even come close. It had been the one blessing, in an otherwise twisted gift, that however conversant she might have become with a dead person's past, she was never conversant with the dead!

Until now, it seemed. Cate backed away, panted white puffs coiling and twisting in the otherwise still air.

I'm not alone.

It should have been comforting, that there was a taxi driver waiting just outside, but somehow, it came out differently. That "I'm not alone" was filled with horror. The taxi driver might be outside, but something else moved within. In a dreadful moment, she knew she'd brought this on herself—that by coming here she'd been willing, demanding almost, a contact with his person—had wanted so badly to save him, that she'd drawn in a soul barely severed from its body.

Cate backed, tripped, twisted, and ran. She tore the length of the room as though the Devil were at her heels, and slammed open the end door with a loud squawking thunk. Using two hands, Cate wrenched the door closed again, locking evil within. She stumbled back, the small door pane fixing her into its framed panel.

He wasn't within. Behind her, his hatred ever so much more pronounced in proximity,  was the mutilated visage of the recently deceased.

***

At Red Rose: http://redrosepublishing.com/booksto re/product_info.php?products_id=161



Emerald City


EXCERPT:


It was midday on the second day when it happened. According to her map, and her sources, there was a small town a mile or so off-road, which the mine workers had once inhabited. No one had done much more than note its existence, and Claudia felt the thrill of discovery. Who knew what a place like that might hold? Other Mons Smaragdus towns had yielded pottery and metals, low grade gemstones, and a variety of other, more homely items. There were sure to be buildings, if the place had been impressive enough to be noted on the map. Gooseflesh danced down her back. The wadi region was laden with small piles of rubble -- the remnants of ancient huts. This township held the promise of oh, so much more.


She readjusted her hat, conscious of her thirst. It seemed she was always conscious of her thirst in this wretched heat! She sucked on her canteen then mustered ahead. No track, so she'd just have to make her way. A couple of times she glanced back at the truck, even climbing one of the little hills to make sure it was still within sight. It was only on the last check that she saw it had disappeared, but that was what she expected. This was hilly country, after all, and the town should be just ahead.


Only, it wasn't, nor could she find the truck. She tried tracing her own footsteps, but this area was rock, rather than sand, and it was no use. Her compass was erratic, due to magnetic deposits, leading her nowhere. Two hours later, dragging her body through the heat, Claudia had to admit it -- I'm lost. Lost in the damned desert. Her water bottle was dry, but she refused to panic. If I don't check in, they'll come looking.


The sun had never been so hot, and Claudia knew she should have been resting midday away instead of hiking. But it was too late -- too late for anything. She rooted around in one of those piles of rocky debris, picking up rocks that burned her hands to pile them into a wall that might offer her partial shade -- if it didn't fall on her head first. She didn't possess the building secrets of the ancient Romans or the Bedouin. And her blistered hands were shaking so badly she didn't know how she'd survive the next few hours.


It was then an icy chill came on her, colder than death.


Nigel!


            She didn't speak -- she didn't have to. He was there…for her.


http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?products_id=243


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