Welcome! So pleased to share the hot new cover for the fabulous Vivi Dumas' upcoming release Stolen Innocence!

Stolen Innocence:  Dueling with the Devil Book 3
 Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: VPG Publishing and Promotions, LLC
Publication Date: 10/4/13
 Website: http://vividumas.com/stolen-innocence/
 GoodReads: http://goo.gl/xMNuDN


 

Blurb:
They say ignorance is bliss, but when it comes to love and mating, Charity Lovell wished someone had schooled her on the ins and outs. She fell hard when she saw the beautiful face of the fair-haired demon as he lay broken in Lucifer’s dungeon. Her body ached for him. Her heart cried for him. This had to be her mate, right? Who else could make her trade her soul to the Devil to save someone she didn’t know? Someone should’ve told her love wasn’t quite as straight forward as that.

Damon lived an uncomplicated life, even as the alpha of the Lake Charles pack and the son of Lucifer. He should’ve taken a mate years ago, but held on to the hope of love. Only one female came close to making him believe he still had a chance for
happiness. Yet, her heart belonged to someone else. Once again, the feeling is back, stronger than ever. And again, his female has pledged herself to another. Damn demons were ruining his love life. This time Damon plans to fight for what
was his and win his rightful mate.

Author Bio:
Although Vivi Dumas grew up an Army brat, she calls Louisiana home, but have endured the hot summers and cold winters of Maryland for the last 16 years. She is a graduate of Mount St. Mary’s University with an MBA in Finance and Marketing. Her analytical side has honed a career in the financial industry for almost twenty years. To balance her logical, numerical day job, she unleashes her creativity in her writing.

Vivi pens multicultural paranormal romance, mixing the two genres she loves. Her steamy paranormal romances indulge in worlds inhabited by demons, werewolves, vampires, and other supernatural beings. She has published works with Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and Breathless Press.

Website: www.vividumas.com 
Twitter: http://twitter.com/vivi_dumas
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/vividumasfanhub
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/vividumas/
Amazon: http://amzn.com/e/B0047LXKHI

Vivi is also hosting a  giveaway for this cover reveal. Check below the excerpt to enter for a chance to win a free ARC of Stolen Innocence. Please note that ARCs of Stolen  Innocence will not be available until mid-September.

Excerpt:

     Damballa eyed Lucifer suspiciously as the angel dusted off a boulder and gracefully lowered himself on the hard, burnt-orange surface. "What bring you to the slums of Purgatory?"
     "Not many people still think of me as an angel. You're showing your age, Damballa." Lucifer's smile gleamed in bright contrast to his ebony skin.
     "You shouldn't pry in other's minds without their permission. Does age matter when you're no longer amongst the living?"
     "Valid point."
     "Again, why are you here?" Damballa demanded.
     Lucifer inhaled a deep breath and sighed as he released it. His face displayed an Oscar winning expression of disappointment.
     "Everyone's so impatient these days. All that television and those video games. Do you get those down
here?"
     Crossing his arms across his chest, Damballa stared at Lucifer without a response.
     "I guess you want to know why I'm here." Lucifer laughed at Damballa's grunt of frustration. "I need your help."
     Damballa narrowed his eyes, tightening his arms in their locked position, closing himself off even more. "How can a lowly human priest banished to Purgatory help the Prince of Hell?"
     "When you put it like that, it make me second guess my visit. But then again we both know the greatest Vodou priest who's ever walked the Earth isn't exactly a lowly human. Didn't your followers even deem you a god?"
     "You know I was stripped of my title and those followers turned on me with vengeance."
     "Some don't appreciate those who think outside of the box. I, on the other hand, appreciate innovation, especially when it goes as far to the dark side as you delved."
      Damballa strolled over to the hollowed out cavern wall filled with books, pretending to study its contents. His hand trembled as he removed a book of spells from a shelf. Sorrow lingered in his heart when he thought of his demise. The darkness took everything he loved away from him and landed him in this fiery stone prison. Love was an unstable drug. No one could predict its side effects. For him, they were lethal.
     "Regret and self-pity only lead one down the road to condemnation. They're useless in seeking redemption. I know what you want. And I can get it for you." Temptation slithered amongst Lucifer's words.
     A chuckle tickled Damballa's throat. "There is nothing on Earth for me. I've glanced at the world a few times and they've turned it into a shithole. I'm not looking to go back to a place I no longer recognize."
     Pushing himself off his seat, Lucifer appeared beside Damballa. "You underestimate me. I mean I know
what you really long for."
     Damballa faced the Prince. He raised a brow in question. "What is it you think that I want?"
     "I can give her back to you. And I'll throw in a bonus."
     "No. She has ascended," Damballa spat.
     Lucifer barked a laugh. "There's no ascension for those who trade their soul to the Devil."
     "What do you mean? She made a deal with you?"
     "Yep. I helped her people. She was really pissed at what you did. In exchange, I have her soul
until I decide what I want to do with it."
     Grabbing Lucifer by the shoulders, Damballa shook the Devil. "You're lying. She would never...she
wouldn't give herself to you."
     Lucifer shoved Damballa's hands off his shoulders. "Your little lady was willing to offer herself to the highest bidder. Isn't that why you killed her in the first place?"
     Damballa struggled to keep from striking Lucifer.
     "You're not crazy. You know I could incinerate you right here. She wanted a life for her family. One not involving running around as wolves for the rest of their lives. A little blood signature on some parchment and we had a deal. I must admit the new E-sign makes brokering deals much easier." Lucifer cracked a slow grin and chuckled to
himself. "Anyway, I have her soul and the world got werewolves. Maybe not a full recovery, but a good compromise.Seemed like a fair trade at the time. Now, I'm offering to return her back to you. Slightly used needless to say, but who cares when it's the love of your life." The jagged edges of Lucifer's teeth showed when he smiled fully.
     Damballa's heart and head raced with anticipation. "And what do I have to do to get her back?"
     "Just a little magic."
     "What kind?"
     "I need to manifest on Earth," Lucifer answered casually as he picked imaginary dirt from under his finger nails.
     Damballa choked at Lucifer's words. "Do you know how much dark magic that requires? I don't even know if I can harness enough energy to jump start the process. That requires a blood sacrifice."
     "Okay. Let me know what you need and I'll order it." With those last words, Lucifer disappeared.
     A shiver whispered down Damballa's spine. No matter what dark magic he practiced in the past or how badly he wanted Ariella back, unleashing Lucifer on Earth was a terrifying thought.
 
* * *
     The female crouched in a ball in the corner of the cell, hugging her long legs tight to her chest. Her ankle-length, brown skirt billowed around her on the twin-sized bed. Her honey-colored hair hung in a thick braid, dangling over her shoulder, glistening like spun gold in the dim light. Every now and again, Charity found the woman staring at her with haunting green eyes threaded with ribbons of amber, giving them an iridescent quality. For three days they had sat in this godforsaken hole
without a word. Charity debated on speaking to her. Usually talking was a no brainer, a natural affliction she wielded like a weapon. But the odd symbols and murmured chants freaked her out. She was in enough trouble without pissing off some crazy witch. Especially one trapped in Lucifer's dungeon.
     The clamor of keys caught Charity's attention. A burly demon balanced two trays in one hand as he unlocked the cell door. He pushed the heavy titanium bars open, clipping the edge of the top tray against the doorframe. In slow motion, the plate toppled to the floor. Charity watched the slop they considered food splash in a multicolored mess on the ground and sighed in both frustration and relief.   
      "Looks like one of you will not be dining tonight," The guard laughed.
     The girl in the corner stayed silent, glancing longingly at the destroyed food. The demon haphazardly dropped the other tray on the edge of Charity's bed. She flashed him her famous f-you smile before he slammed the cell door shut. Charity remained in her spot and listened to the click-clack of his boots echo down the hall. When the sound disappeared, she stood and picked up the gruel left on her bed. As fowl as the food looked and smelled, it was the first nourishment they had
brought in three days.
     Charity walked cautiously over to the stranger in the corner. "Hi. You look like you need this more than I do." Piercing emerald eyes met Charity's gaze. A familiar sadness glowed behind the brilliance of the girl's stare. "Can I sit?"
     The female unwound her long body and dangled her legs over the side of the tiny bed. As she sat up and light shone upon her face, Charity gasped at the female's overwhelming beauty. Handing the girl the tray, Charity lowered to the edge of the mattress, close to the foot of the bed. Her cellmate shoveled the food into her mouth with her hands, filling her cheeks like a chipmunk. How long had it been since she ate?
     "Wow. You were hungry. How long had it been since they fed you?" Charity had been here three days and this was the first sign of food she had witnessed.
     The girl choked down the stuff in her mouth with a look of embarrassment. "Seven days," she announced through the food left in her mouth.
     "Seriously?"
     The girl nodded affirmation.
     Charity pressed her lips in a thin line. Heat rose from her stomach, spreading throughout her body and flushing her face.   
     "They're not going to fucking starve me to death. Lucifer said nothing about starving to death." I really got to think through shit before I act on it. That boy better be worth it. He was fine as hell.
     The girl stopped eating, tilted her head to the side and studied Charity. Swallowing the mystery meat she was chewing, the female asked, "You look familiar. Who's your people?"
     "I'm with the New Orleans pack. My name is Charity Lovell. What's yours?" The girl choked on something. Charity thumped her back as she coughed up a piece of bread. "You okay?"
     The female nodded in affirmation even though her face remained red. "Yes. It's been a long time since I met someone from the New Orleans pack."
     "Oh. You know someone from the pack? Who?"
     "I doubt anyone I know would still be earthbound."
     Charity raised a brow. "And what did you say your name was?"
     "I didn't, but it's Ariella Lovell."
     It was Charity's turn to freak out. Her throat tightened and her head swam. How did she end up in a cell with her great-great-great-grandmother who died in the seventeen hundreds? "You can't be. She died a long time ago."
     "Darling, you're in Hell. Why are you shocked to run into someone who no longer walks among the living?"
     Sweat moistened the palms of Charity's hands. She fought the urge to touch her to see if she was real. She had heard of Ariella's beauty. Listened to the stories about how the pack came to be, but she assumed most of it to be folklore, stories the elders told to keep them in check. But they hadn't exaggerated about her allure.
     "How did you end up here?" Charity asked.
     Ariella laughed harshly, without humor. "Bad choices. I guess I can ask you the same."
     "A guy." Charity folded her legs under her and shrugged.
     Amusement lit Ariella's face as she smiled. "That's the same as bad choices. I'm glad Lucifer held his end of my deal. Tell me about my pack. I've worried so much through the years that the Devil would renege on his promise. Does the curse still run through the females in the family?"

 * * *
      "I didn't fucking ask her to serve herself up for me," Laurent barked at the massive wolf sitting across from him. "I was passed the fuck out. Haven't even spoken two words to her."
       Damon jumped out of his seat, catching the lunging wolf midair. "I think we all need to calm down."
       A feral growl escaped Ty, the Alpha of the New Orleans pack. He shoved Damon away from him.
      "This is your fault Boudreaux. You came to us for help. We trusted you. And you vouched for them." The wolf jerked his thumb towards Laurent and his friends.
     Laurent's sister, Bell, stood with her hand on her hip, blue eyes ablaze. "That chick was off. She went all Twilight-Wolf on us. Like she imprinted on Laurent. I told everyone something was wrong with her."
     "We don't imprint!" a pretty she-wolf growled from the back of the room.
      Bell inhaled to begin another rant, but her brother cut her off. 
      "Bell, sit down and be quiet," Laurent grumbled. Bell muttered something under her breath. "You're not helping. Sit!" Laurent snapped.
     Stepping in the middle of the eclectic crowd of supernaturals, Damon ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat.    
     "This is no one's fault. Charity is an adult. She made a choice, albeit stupid, but one she made on her own. She believes Laurent is her mate. When we rescued him from Lucifer's dungeon, she definitely had some kind of attraction to him. Wouldn't leave his side. We can't change any of that now. We have to work together to figure out how to get her back."
     "Why the hell would Lucifer trade Laurent's life for hers?" Tact wasn't Bell's strong suit. This time her fiancé, Xavier, nudged her lightly, swinging the ice-blue glare in his direction. "What? It's a valid question."
     The five members of the New Orleans pack looked at Ty, waiting for his response. Them and their damn secrets. Damon shook his head.
     "She's one of the few members left of our original lineage. Charity's family is the reason there are werewolves. The females of her line are cursed with the inability to shift until they find their mates. It keeps their other powers dormant until they find the one they love." Ty spoke in hushed tones as if Lucifer himself eavesdropped on their conversation.
     The whole room remained silent, allowing the gravity of the revelation to settle. Damon paced the length of the purple flowered sofa. The small living room became more constricting. Jacque, a shifter demon and Xavier's brother, rose from his chair. He strolled over to Damon and Ty.
     "How did her family start a species?" Jacque questioned.
     Ty rubbed the back of his neck. "Her great-great-great-grandmother was promised to Damballa, but she gave herself to another. As punishment, Damballa cursed us to turn to wolves. He was so enraged he killed Ariella and then offed himself. It's told Ariella brokered a deal with Lucifer before she ascended to allow us to maintain our human form except on the full moon. Later we learned to adapt and shift when we needed. Afraid that one of the Lovell females would eventually be able to reverse the curse or become too powerful, Lucifer bound their powers until the found a mate, which only a few did. It's like one of those fucked up Lifetime movies."
     "What kind of powers do Charity's people have?" Laurent asked.
     Ty shrugged. "We don't really know. None of them has ever used them to my knowledge. That's why it's dormant until they mate. If or when they find the one they belong with, they focus on their partners and not their powers. Only one has left the Ward and might have accessed her powers. We've asked Red to come here today."
     "Who names their child Red? Is that like Apple or North?" Bell stopped laughing when Laurent shot her a menacing glare.
     "It's a nickname cause she loves the color red. Her real name's Simone," one of the females of the New Orleans pack corrected, rolling her eyes at Bell.
     "Someone talking bout me?" A fine, leggy female in a painted-on red dress walked into the small room followed by two equally hot females. Red's thick mahogany tresses fell around her face in long spirals. She crossed the room to Ty and kissed both his cheeks. The other two women repeated the gesture. "Look like y'all started the party without us. What's all the commanding my presence about?"
     Ty hesitated before answering. "It's about Charity."
     The short honey-toned female crossed her arms. "What the fuck she do now?" 
     "Jade, don't start," Red chastised before turning back to the Alpha. "What she do, Ty?"
     Ty laughed nervously. "It's bad this time. She done turned herself over to Lucifer."
     "What the fuck, Ty? You're supposed to keep an eye on her and call us when she gets out of hand," The female in the wife-beater and ball cap fussed. Even with the boyish clothes, she couldn't hide her pretty features.
     "Look, that girl's a handful. Dani, you know for yourself. How many times you had to go find her outside of our territory?" Ty aged as the conversation continued. Lines cut deeper in his face from worry and stress.
     Damon interrupted to get the conversation back on tract. "Hi, ladies. We were trying to figure out why Charity would be important to Lucifer. Ty seem to think the females in your family has some powers that might attract Luc's attention, but not sure what kind. Do you have any idea?"
     Red scanned the faces in the room with a deliberative expression. She met the gaze of the two females who arrived with her. The one they called Dani nodded in encouragement.
      "We've not spoken of our powers to anyone outside our family. It has brought nothing but unhappiness to the women who have used it."
      Jade spoke up. "But you know that's why he wants Charity." 
      Red released a breath she was holding and plopped into an armchair, covering her face with her hands.
     "How bad can it be? It's a freaking power. We all have them," Bell interjected.
     Red lifted her head, her pretty face lined with worry. "We're necromancers."
     The room went dead silent.  

I am delighted to welcome the talented and hysterically funny Lucy Woodhull today! Welcome, Lucy!

Hello, blog friends.  I'm romantic comedy author and short person Lucy Woodhull.  The wonderfully kind Sharon Saracino has invited me here for a bit of shameless promo of my new contemporary THE DIMPLE OF DOOM.  

Here's the blurb:
 It may sound like common sense, but never hump an art thief. Turns out, Samantha Lytton's Common-Sense-O-Meter is super duper broken.
Failed actress Samantha Lytton is getting along just fine in her lonely little life when a charming criminal called Sam or Nate or maybe even Richmond kisses her, square dances most provocatively, opens his not-so-wicked heart, and gets her in
trouble with not one, but two international art theft rings as well as the LAPD. She's either gonna end up in jail or famous.  Maybe both. 
Along the way, she fights for her life and falls for this funny, sexy disaster of a man… and learns that finding happily-ever-after with yourself is the first step to real contentment. A cute dimple is just the second.

The anti-hero of THE DIMPLE OF DOOM is an art thief.  And, as you may have guessed, he has a seriously dangerous dimple.  It causes normally-intelligent women to abandon their brains and voluntarily fall into its tragic depths, as happens to my heroine, Samantha Lytton.
You might think you're too clever to be entranced by a dimple, but I'm here to show you how unruly a facial feature it really is.  Take for example:

Ice-T

Look at this man.  Adorable.  Sexy.  But with that hint of attitude that makes Ice-T the best reason to watch Law & Order: SVU (besides badass Olivia Benson).  His dimples are so epic, they can be seen when he’s not smiling.  Be wary if you should encounter his life-ruining dimples in the street:  remain calm and try not to melt.  And slip him my number, will ya?

Josh Holloway

Sawyer (played by Josh Holloway) on Lost might be the best reason to be stranded on a mysterious island that's trying to murder you ever.  Who wouldn't battle a teeny-weeny killer smoke monster for a chance to lose yourself in that amazing smile?  Sure, the Others are chasing you, but you can hide in Josh Holloway's dimples and be safe forever.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Let's all Kickstarter a movie called 500 Days of Dimples.  If you donate $10, JGL will personally fly to your house and smile at you.  Just make sure to have a fainting couch handy.

Mario Lopez

Jkjfauhauf cpuhufp puhpfuhref...

Oh, I'm sorry.  I was temporarily drooling on my keyboard.  Saved By the Bell?  Saved By the Cutest Smile in the World more like.  But that's not as marketable a title.

Do you see?  They’re evil, those face dents.

Below is a sample from THE DIMPLE OF DOOM, book one in the Samantha Lytton series.  Leave a comment and tell me who possesses your favorite dimples to enter for a chance to win a free copy!  You can buy the book direct (it's only $.99 for a limited time!) 
Available from:  Total-E-Bound, Amazon, AllRomance.com, B&N,  Sony.  For iBook users, buy from Total-E-Bound
and choose ePub format. (Releasing in  print October, 2013.)
Thank you very much for reading, and to Sharon for letting me crash her pad. 

Lucy Woodhull
Website Goodreads Twitter Blog Facebook

* * *

THE DIMPLE OF DOOM
Chapter One:

It’s a Not-So-Wonderful Life
Accountants should not be so sexy. 

It all started at the office Christmas party, as many terrible hangovers do. 

My palms began to sweat at the sight of The Accountant walking in my direction. His shining eyes said, I wanna spread your sheet, his masterful gait said, Damn, I’m masterful, and his tantalizing smirk said, I’ve read the Kama Sutra—all the way through. 

I swallowed the lump of lust in my throat and twiddled with the tablecloth of the catered buffet table. My usual party plan involved making winsome eyes at the food, but tonight I salivated over more than just the pigs in a blanket. 
 
"Potato ball?" he asked. Sam Turner, aka The Accountant, held the fried offering palm up on a festive red and green paper plate. 

I had the hots for a dude named Sam. My name is Samantha. Samantha ‘n’ Sam. It was the stuff of obnoxious wedding invitations. 
 
What colour were his hazel eyes today? Glancing up, I slid into hormone heaven. He stood, eyes mossy green pools of sensual seductiveness, and offered me the Garden of Eden apple. Except it was a potato ball. 
 
Cocking my head, I posed in an alluring manner that I hoped brought Marilyn Monroe to mind. I should say something. Something not stupid. 
 
"I love balls." Oh, damn. "And potatoes!" Did I just tell him I loved to eat balls? "I mean I love to eat food! In ball form. You know. Because it’s easy. To eat. Except when it rolls. Then it can be hard to catch." 

Stop. 

Talking. 
 
"Okay." Sam’s lips turned upward in mockery on his almost handsome, totally charming face, topped in curling, floppy, please-run-your-hands-through-me brown hair. 
 
Yes, I absolutely had told him I loved to eat balls. I decided I should smile through this faux pas. Everyone knew a bright grin made unpleasant things go away. Ask Judy Garland. 

"I like food in stick or chip form myself," he said, munching a piece of celery in stick form. 

 I  couldn’t come up with anything to say about sticks that wasn’t dirty. "Chips are good." Really, I impressed even myself with the brilliance of my witty banter. At any moment my clothes would be ripped off my quivering body by Sam, my same-named accounting crush. 
 
I hated the office Christmas party. 

Sam blinked and appraised me in what I chose to interpret as a captivated manner. A girl could dream. Instead he said, "So, Scott told me you entertained the employees at last year’s party." 

"Yes. I fell down the steps." My cheeks burned like the carpet at the end of two flights of stairs. I wasn’t clumsy too often, but when I made the effort, I really won at it. "You can still see the splotch on the floor from the blood. I lost a tooth, but gained a reputation." 

"That’s gross." He grinned. One wouldn’t call him drop-dead gorgeous or anything. At first, you might consider him kinda ordinary-looking. Then the naughty glimmer in his eye caught your breath. The smile appeared, emphasizing the lickable
curve of his bottom lip. Charm emanated from his very pores. 
 
And, of course, he possessed the nuclear weapon of facial features. The dimple. Only one—on the left side of his face—deep enough to bury yourself in. One flicker and panties fell at thirty paces. 

My body temperature had suddenly shot upward to somewhere near surface of the sun levels. I’d disconnected completely from the conversation and reverted to teenage-girl-like gawking.

I took a steadying breath and jumped back into the fray. "So, accounting? Is that as glamorous as it sounds?" I had, apparently, decided that deriding his profession was the way to go, flirt-wise. Plays like this were risky, but desperation had sunk in. His temp job in the finance department ended today—I would have no more chances to bend and snap at the water cooler for his benefit. 

The corners of his sometimes green, sometimes brown, always dreamy eyes crinkled. "Of course. Usually I have eight models in my accounting entourage, but I gave them the night off." 

Uh-oh. He was funny, too. It just wasn’t fair. "How kind of you. You could say you’re a model boss! Ha ha!" Yes, I laughed at my own joke, which was a behaviour shared by the most sophisticated of ladies. Then I remembered I turned a horrid shade of blotchy red when I got too excited. I choked off my laughter and forced down some potato. 

"I could say that, but I won’t." 

"No, you really shouldn’t." 

The dimple chose that moment to come out and play. Oh, Sam—let’s retire to the supply room and hump. It had been so long since I had humped anyone. Or  anywhere. I shoved more mmmmm-yummy potato ball into my mouth and almost didn’t get it on my festive sweater, the beautiful red one I’d spent way too much money on in the hopes of getting Sam to notice me. 
 
He noticed now. "You have a blob of—" 

Then he grabbed my boob. 

"Jesus, I’m sorry!" His eyes became saucers, and he jerked his hand back, leaving my skin scorched and feverish. "There’s a bunch of potato on your…sweater. Let’s, um, let’s go to the kitchen. There’s a sink." 

My stomach dropped three storeys—I’d just accidentally got to second base in public. He grabbed my arm, and we hurried past a maze of monochrome cubes draped in twinkle lights to the break room. This was the most exciting event in the office since they had switched the carpeting from taupe to tan. 
 
Sam stood there while I applied a paper towel to my tit. Actually, he didn’t merely stand there—he stared, turned away, blinked and stared again. I couldn’t blame the guy. The girls were rather ravishing—perky from the cold water, encased in
a formidable push-up bra, eager for more inappropriate fondling. 
 
"I’m sorry about…that." He slumped and shoved his hands in his pockets. 
 
"It’s okay. It happens." I smiled, brimming with reassurance. 
 
The tension finally broke when he snickered. "It does? How often does it happen? You should avoid potato balls." 

"And accountants." 

We laughed at each other. For once I wasn’t laughing by myself. 
 
* * *