Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Party
Before you enter the giveaway, check out an excerpt of GIVE ME ~ A Tale of Wyrd and Fae by L.K. Rigel, one of the authors sponsoring the giveaway!
“Give me your hand.”
A different voice, deep, self-confident, male—real—sent an eager flutter through Lilith’s heart. A tall man emerged from the mist and steam, dressed in a long coat out of Dickens—or the Matrix—his gloved hand outstretched toward her. He was young and red and big-boned. His ruddy complexion looked like it had rebelled once but had given up the fight. He had shaggy chestnut hair and green eyes that hinted of dangerous pleasure.
“Lilith Evergreen, I presume?” A West Country accent tinged with humor.
Say it again, oh, say it again! Say my name again.
His rough face was not at all handsome. His voice was jagged like a demon lover’s—low and crushed-velvety, promising things no good woman should wish for. Lilith found herself thinking of sex—and not in the privacy of a dream, but here, now, broad-daylight, do-it-on-the-train-platform sex. Not lusty-but-innocent Galen/Diantha sex, but rough, desperate, adult, full-on carnal and every other kind of knowledge sex.
I know this guy.
The man’s duster reached midcalf, and his long scarf was the color of dark moss. He tipped his moss-green hat, a Mad Hatter’s bell crown topper, and bowed with a flourish.
“Bausiney. Cade Bausiney.” Like James Bond. “Tour guide extraordinaire. Ian’s commandeered my rig to haul the lot of you down to the Tragic Fall.”
Dynamic, substantial, assured. He was no apparition.
“Generous of you to comply.”
“I thought so.” His dark-gloved hand dwarfed Lilith’s in the pink one. Beside him, she felt downright delicate.
A hot current of desire danced over her as he handed her down to the platform. She glanced at him sideways, sure he’d felt it too. She pulled her hand away—or maybe he dropped it. The urge to grab this man, this stranger who wasn’t a stranger, was almost overwhelming. It was as if she’d become a different person. She wanted to kiss him right here, right now, tear his clothes off and pull him inside.
She studied her surroundings, desperate to put her mind on anything else.
Tintagos Halt consisted of an old stone building anchored to a wide wood platform. A rusting iron bench at one end looked unused for a generation. Garish posters covered ancient walls. You Might Be Next! Visit Famous Tintagos Castle! Who Will Be Chosen? A Once in a Lifetime Event!
Bausiney’s hand brushed over her bare upper arm. He quoted, “Dumnos is a land of mist and rain,” and wrinkled his nose. “We put so much effort into the literature, and no one reads it.” He had one of those ironic grins where the corners of his mouth curved down but his eyes twinkled. He took his scarf off and draped it around her shoulders, and she caught her breath at his slight squeeze. “That’s better now.”
The steam whistle blasted, as startling as a physical assault. She and Bausiney jammed their hands over their ears until it stopped. Fortunately, the shock of the blast drove away Lilith’s attack of sex-fiendishness.
“It’s this way,” Bausiney said.
At the end of the platform the footman loaded luggage into a waiting horse-drawn carriage. His ornate uniform made more sense now, all part of the show. The vehicle was as white as Cinderella’s coach with polished brass fixtures and a gold coronet with pearls and strawberry leaves painted on the door. The top was down with Marion and Ian and the laptop ladies seated inside, all with wool throws spread over their laps.
“This is Bella and Camilla—Cammy.” Marion handed warm throws to Lilith and Bausiney. “Sisters from Maidstone. They’re stopping at the Tragic Fall for the Handover.”
“Now there is truly no room at the inn,” Ian said.
Lilith sat on the same side as Bella, the older of the two. If they’d been named in honor of Mr. Trollope’s French sisters—a mean trick by a parent—they’d rebelled against the author’s description. The younger Cammy appeared shy and sweet. Bella regarded Lilith with furrowed eyebrows and a distinctly sour expression—which morphed to everything delightful when Bausiney inserted himself between the two.
He pushed his hat back and stretched his arms over the seat behind them. “Are we all in then?” he said with a grin. He looked less the Mad Hatter and more a glam rocker from the ‘80s, sans mascara.
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