Saturday, August 20, 2016

The Magiste Chronicles Relaunch Begins Now!



Today's the day! The Magiste Chronicles officially relaunch today – starting with In the Devil's Arms. Set in an alternate modern-day New Orleans area, In the Devil's Arms tells the story of Helene, an Enchantress who suffers from impaired magical powers, among other things, and Devlin, an enemy from her past who shares her secret attraction. When Devlin learns Helene just might be the perfect submissive for him, he is determined to lure her to his bed – by whatever means possible! Immerse yourself in a world where magic is part of daily life, practiced by the Magiste, whose bloodlines can be traced back for centuries. Featuring Magically Kinky! love scenes, In the Devil's Arms has been extensively rewritten and revised – and features a smoking hot new cover by Winter Bayne. In the Devil's Arms is sure to rival the heat wave outside. Read a sneak peek below!



 * Can They Overcome the Past to Have a Future? *

Helene Gaudet finds the perfect Dom in an internet chat room. When they agree to meet, Helene realizes why he knows her so well – he's Devlin Marchand, the man who, years ago, handed her over to a dark sorcerer – to be killed.

She wants to forget the past, including badly impaired magical powers and an ex-husband who cursed her, leaving her infertile. At first fearful of Devlin's intentions, she finds her passion for him is so intense after each encounter, she can't bring herself to leave.

Devlin's guilt over past betrayals grows when they learn the curse dogging Helene was created by the trove of magic by his very own family. Devlin fears for their tentative relationship.

Will he be able to keep his vow to heal her, in every way possible, or will their enemies succeed in tearing them apart?

*** Contains lots of explicit Magically Kinky! love scenes of the paranormal kind, including magical sex toys, potions, bondage and spanking, and more!

And here's that promised excerpt – Helene's about to come face-to-face with her internet Dom:

"Can I get you anything, miss?" The bartender hadn't moved from his position in front of the taps.

"White wine, please." She slipped a few bills from her purse. She needed the drink to steady her nerves. And bolster her courage.

The bartender placed the glass before her. She left a tip and took the glass to the corner table, just as Dragonslayer had instructed. She would give him ten minutes to show, no more. With careful movements, she slid into the booth, grimacing as her legs came in contact with the cracked vinyl covering, sharp against her skin. She had to be crazy. She sipped her wine and drummed her fingers on the table. A shadow fell over her.

"Waiting for someone, Gaudet?"                                                                            

She knew that voice. She turned, her heart slamming into her throat to meet glittering silvery eyes and a self-satisfied smirk. No! Impossible! What the hell was he doing in this bar? Tonight? Now? His voice echoed in her head. Her throat tightened. It couldn't be. Ridiculous. There was no way he could be ... she refused to allow the thought to finish.

The shock of seeing him ignited a knee-trembling panic; she gave a silent prayer of thanks for being already seated. Forcing herself to stay calm, she responded to his question, hoping to present an aloof picture.

"Marchand. This is the last place I would have expected to find you."

She straightened her spine, proud of the steadiness of her voice, even if her insides squirmed like jelly. Mon Dieu, even after all these years, he looked so damn hot. He had grown from an attractive boy to a devastatingly handsome man; broad shoulders and a powerfully solid chest clad in a silky white shirt tapered to narrow hips and muscular thighs encased in black denim. His large hands rested on his hips, the casual stance belying the tightly leashed power she sensed just beneath the surface. The image of her fantasy captor sprang to mind and his current self replaced her remembered image. She swallowed, but couldn't dislodge the lump in her throat.

"Usually I wouldn't be caught dead in a dump like this, but circumstances required it."

His eyes gleamed in the dim light, and for a moment, her fantasies thrust into her consciousness, fantasies where he moved above her and ... No! She wouldn't go there. She held his gaze steadily, hoping she put enough ice into her expression to make clear she wanted him to leave.
Seemingly unfazed by her scowl, he waved a hand, indicating she should move over and let him in.

She shook her head and looked away. "I'm meeting someone, Marchand." Hopefully, he would realize he'd been dismissed. She wanted him gone before Dragonslayer showed up.

Her stomach rolled over. The ridiculous notion she'd forced aside resurfaced. Denial rose, sharp and jagged, the pieces of the puzzle coming together despite her attempt to refute it. Her gaze once more snapped to his, realization of the truth leaving her too shocked to resist when he pushed in beside her. Jamming her against the wall. Trapping her. His body, enticingly warm, pressed hard against her. She tried to ignore the heat rushing through her, the tremor of excitement barely held in check by apprehension. Recollection of the way he'd made her come while on the phone last week worked against her resolve to ignore her body's reaction.

"So tell me, Submissive Goddess, why are you here?"

"B√Ętard!" She picked up her wineglass, intending to empty it in his face, but his hand on her wrist stilled the motion.

"Don't." His eyes hardened to steel, his tone heavy with warning.

"You are still the same rodent you always were. Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

He leaned in close, his fingers tightening further on her wrist. The touch roused sensations far more delightful than she cared to admit, the reality of facing him in the flesh after all these years of fantasy scattering her thoughts. She needed to stay sharp, but focus eluded her.

"You don't really want me to leave you alone."

He smiled, the lazy curve of his lips jolting her heart to skip a beat.

"And I'm going to torment you, my little goddess. If you think the other night was intense, wait until you see what I have planned for you tonight."

She swallowed a gasp, flashes of their phone episode coming at her with blinding speed. She reached into her coat. Panic stole her breath when her fingers encountered an empty pocket. Her amulet had vanished! How the hell had he disarmed her? She didn't want to waste time figuring it out; she had to get out of here.

"Give it back, you loathsome prick."

"Now, now, no need for name calling."

"I'll do worse than that!"

His lips quirked again, sending her anger spiking. Her hands itched with the urge to slap the smile from his face. She turned toward the bar, but when she called for the bartender, her voice failed. Horror that Marchand had silenced her chilled her blood. How?

"I don't have to be loud enough for you to hear me cast, sweetheart."

Had he used a mind-reading spell as well? She needed to concentrate, maintain her barriers and keep him from entering her thoughts. Doing so grew complicated, with his face so close to hers and her amulet out of her reach. Without the pendant, defending herself against his magic would be difficult, if not impossible. His warm breath fanned her cheek and she suppressed a shiver. He smelled of mint and musk, and if he had been anybody else, she might just turn her face into his neck and inhale deeply.

Before she realized it, he captured her mouth. She responded, despite her attempt to fight the delight he stirred. His lips, soft and full, meandered over hers, and her resolve to resist melted as her mouth melted against his. He kept kissing her in that languid manner and her heart pounded. Oh God, already her wits had crumbled, her entire body ablaze from just a simple kiss. Her nipples strained against their lace covering. He drew away.