Inaugural contest.

Welcome to my new abode.

I got tired of fighting my old design software and decided to give WordPress a shot.

So far, so good?

Ooooh…a CONTEST!

To celebrate my both the redesign of my website and my upcoming release with Red Sage’s ebook line, I’m giving away two ARCs (in PDF format only) of “There Came A Killing Frost” this weekend.

Three (3) winners will be chosen at random from folks who:
1) check out this site and
2) email me by MIDNIGHT SUNDAY, Eastern Time, at selahmarch@mac.com to tell me what they think of my new design.

(Eventually, this domain name will switch over to my old site at http://www.selahmarch.com. I hope.)

I will contact the winners privately with their prizes.

Ready…get set…go!

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EXCERPT:

She glanced at him. A sheen of sweat made his face glow in the light from the bedside lamp. She watched his eyes track a line from her feet to where her hands were bound. Something in the way his jaw tightened…sí, she recognized that look. He liked what he saw. Liked seeing her helpless. It did something for him.

He shifted in the chair and cleared his throat. “You comfortable? Anything you…need?”

Her gaze wandered over the room ’til the sight of a newly filled ice bucket on the credenza caught her interest. “May I have a piece of ice, por favor?“

His frown deepened. “You think this is a game?”

“Sí. The kind we both win.” She let her voice drop into a husky rasp. “Question is, have you the cojones to play?”

It was a calculated risk. He might laugh at her brazen attempt at seduction. She watched as he rose from the chair and crossed the room. She inhaled the saturated air, sweat trickling between her breasts. The silk blouse clung to her back.

And then he was standing over her, the ice bucket in his hand. “Open your mouth.” The gruff texture of his voice rubbed at every nerve she had.

She closed her eyes and complied. An instant later, she felt him deposit a single sliver of ice on the end of her tongue. She opened her eyes in time to catch the way he stared at her mouth before lifting his gaze to hers.

“Anything else?” His body seemed to vibrate with tension.

“My shoes. If you could–”

“Don’t think so.” He set the ice bucket on the edge of the mattress and reached out touch her ankle. “I like the shoes. Like you in ‘em.”

His hand moved up her leg to her knee, pushing the fabric of her skirt along before it. The callused palm felt like hot iron against her skin. She let her thighs fall apart under the satin. “A cowboy with a shoe fetish? That’s–”

“Hush.” He lifted the hem of her skirt and rolled it up on itself. The air, which had felt so thick and humid just a moment before, rushed in a cool breeze against the flesh he exposed. She watched his face change as he saw she wore nothing beneath the skirt.