Friday, December 01, 2017

My newest ebook, Frosty the Snow Dom, is out today!

I'm happy to announce my newest ebook, Frosty the Snow Dom, is in onlines stores now, just in time for Christmas!

Steaming up the ice..
When ice artist Judith Dane is hired to create a kinky version of Michelangelo's David, she thinks the ice sculpture is just another Christmas party centerpiece. But when she delivers the work she's nicknamed "Frosty the Snow Dom" to the BDSM club Valhalla, the party turns out to be a lot stranger than she expects.
When Frosty comes to life just like a certain snowman, she discovers just how hot ice can be. But what happens when the spell breaks?

Amazon  Barnes and Noble  Kobo  iTunes! Changeling

He cupped her face again, his palm warm and rough. He certainly didn’t feel like a block of ice. “I would never have left you to suffer. You have suffered enough.”
Her brows rose. “What makes you say that?” She felt unmoored, like a balloon hovering in a cloudless sky, caught between the reality she knew and blue infinity.
He shrugged. “I feel the pain in you.”
“But why do you care?”
“Why does anyone? Not to care is to be alone, and I have been alone too long as it is.” Tor smiled, and she was helpless to look away from the warmth in his eyes. “I think you’ve been alone long enough, too.”
Judith caught her breath, gazing up at him, taking in all the shades of blue in his irises -- cerulean, sapphire, cobalt -- the elegant line of cheekbone and jaw, the seductive curve of his lips. “Yeah.” She swallowed, trying to clear the rasp from her voice. “I have been alone too long.”
“Then perhaps we could be together instead.” He leaned down slowly, as if giving her plenty of time to back away from the kiss he so obviously intended.
Yet she had no desire to retreat from the pressure of his lips. Which made no sense, considering that she’d just tried to lay him open with that damned whip.
His lips brushed hers, a soft velvet stroke. Asking her to open. So she did. His tongue slipped into her mouth in a gentle stroke, careful not to invade.
Too careful. Too polite.
She wanted more. Her body ached with a fierce craving for all that hot bare muscle, the grip of his big hands, the grind of his mouth and his cock.
Jesus Christ, I don’t even know him. And what she did know was flatly unbelievable. Nobody could do what he’d just done -- heal a five-inch wound with a stroke of his fingers in the space of a heartbeat, when it should’ve taken weeks. Then clean the blood away with a flick of his fingers.
None of this was possible. She must be trapped in a drug-induced dream. That was really the only logical explanation.
Trouble was, she found she didn’t believe the only logical explanation. No matter how irrational it was, everything in her insisted this was utterly real.
Tor was magic. Alfar. Elf. And she wanted him. His kiss, his hands, the hard length of him. Craved him as if he were something she’d sought for a very long time, now finally within reach.
Heat and desperation seemed to explode in the pit of her belly, and she surged against him, reaching up to thread her fingers through the short white silk of his hair and curl her hands into fists. He surged to his feet, dragging her up with him, snatching her close.
Still kissing her, Tor growled against her mouth, soft and fierce, one hand gripping her ass, the other reaching up to tangle in her hair as she’d grabbed his. Her scalp stung with the ferocity of his hold, but she didn’t care.
Hell, she loved it.
Opening her mouth wide, she coiled her tongue around his in a frantic dance. He stepped into her, pulling her so tight she could feel every muscle and bone of that big body against her. He feels almost as hard as he was when he was ice. For a moment the sheer irrationality of the thought jolted her, almost broke the spell of frantic lust surging in her blood.
But then he cupped her cheek, his palm rough with calluses, warm with body heat. It wasn’t the hand of an ice sculpture or a delusion. It was a man’s hand, as much flesh and blood as her own aching body.
Tor drew back, his lips peeling away from hers as if with an effort. His eyes met hers, wide and wild and ice blue. “I have needed you. I have needed you so long.”
Then he was kissing her again, fierce, biting kisses, teeth scraping, tongue thrusting. Her hands tightened in his hair, and she lifted one thigh to coil her calf around his ass, desperate to press her sex against the erection she could feel hot and hard inside those leather pants. Craving the rough friction, she ground against him.
With a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, he hooked both hands under her ass and lifted her off her feet. Knowing what he wanted, Judith wound her other leg around him. They both moaned in pleasure at the feel of her sex against his, even separated by layers of fabric and leather. “I want you naked,” she gasped against his mouth.
“Yes,” he rumbled, his voice even deeper than it had been a moment before. His fingers flicked, and sparks poured out, swirling around their bodies in a tingling wave. Her nipples hardened even more, and she whimpered at the sensation of crisp chest hair teasing the tips.
Blinking, Judith looked down. They were indeed naked. She had no idea how, and did not care.

Monday, November 20, 2017

Steaming up the Ice: An Excerpt of FROSTY THE SNOW DOM

Dear Reader – I’ve been busy writing new goodies just in time for Christmas! I’m delighted to announce my newest erotic short story, Frosty the Snow Dom, releasing Nov. 24 from Changeling Press, and Dec. 1 from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iTunes.
Steaming up the ice...
When Judith's hired to create a kinky ice sculpture, the party turns out stranger than she expects.
When ice artist Judith Dane is hired to create a kinky version of Michelangelo's David, she thinks the ice sculpture is just another Christmas party centerpiece. But when she delivers the work she's nicknamed "Frosty the Snow Dom" to the BDSM club Valhalla, the party turns out to be a lot stranger than she expects.
When Frosty comes to life just like a certain snowman, she discovers just how hot ice can be. But what happens when the spell breaks?
Here’s an excerpt as Judith meets her own kinky creation.
Anrid caught Judith’s hand, pulling her in so close she felt the woman’s silk skirt brush her legs. Lifting her regal chin, the hostess began to speak in that foreign language again, pausing to let the crowd answer in a kind of call and response that reminded Judith of church services back in Texas. Though no church she’d ever attended had conducted services in the nude…
I wish I knew what they were saying. A shiver of unease teased the length of her spine even as she told herself she was being paranoid.
At a word from Anrid, the crowd joined hands and began to dance in a circle around them. They started to sing, the women’s voices rose impossibly pure and high over the deep, darker tones of the men’s. Which was when things began to get really weird.
Releasing Judith’s hand, Anrid gestured.
Frosty, all three hundred pounds of him, rose in the air and floated forward as if the ice had turned into a soap bubble.
Judith’s jaw dropped. Blinking, she looked up, checking the ceiling for wires. How the hell…
Anrid caught up the necklace that hung around her slender throat, lifting the chain off over her head. As she held it high, the thumb-length sapphire caught the light. She gestured, and sparks wound around the stone like fireflies as she released the stone. Instead of falling to the ground, the necklace floated over to Frosty as if swept along by the wave of light. The sparks dissipated, spilling the chain over the sculpture’s head, sapphire rapping his carved pectorals.
Judith peered around, but she still saw no sign of any supports, wires or mirrors, and no place to attach them if there had been. That was one hell of a trick. She’d wonder if somebody had slipped her a dose of LSD, except, being at work, she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything.
Anrid began to sing, the pure, clear notes rising over the chorus of ethereal voices. As the song spiraled to a crescendo, she flung out both hands in a wild, swirling gesture.
Frosty exploded.
A wave of fine white powder blasted out from him, stinging Judith’s face as she recoiled, shocked, blinded. With a yelp of alarm, she started knuckling at her eyes, trying to clear her stinging vision. When she finally managed to blink away the tears, she realized Anrid and the crowd had vanished. The buffet table and assorted BDSM gear was still there, but Judith was alone.
Except for one man.
He stood on the floor below the spot where Frosty had floated, his back to her, so all she could see was that he was tall and broad shouldered. When he turned, her brows flew up. Judith had seen a lot of handsome men tonight, but he was outstanding even in that company. There was something oddly familiar about him, something she recognized in the angle of his broad cheekbones and cleft chin, the shape of his deep-set eyes, the contours of his erotic mouth.
Unlike most of the men she’d seen at the party, his curling white hair was cropped close, revealing the elegant points of his ears. He wore only tight leather pants and riding boots shined to a mirrored gleam. Why does he look so familiar?
Then realization dawned. “Oh shit. You’re Frosty!”
His lips twitched in a smile. “Actually, my name is Tor.”
Judith stared at him, feeling the ground drop out from under her feet. “That’s… This isn’t possible. This is some kind of scam.” She backed away as her head began to buzz like a high-tension wire. Her voice rose. “How did you do this? Did you gas me with something?”
He watched her calmly, making no attempt to follow her. “Up until sixty seconds ago, I was a block of ice.”
“Bullshit! Blocks of ice don’t turn into people!”
He shrugged, an elegant gesture of broad bare shoulders. “And yet, here I am.”
“And where did everybody else go?” She dared take her eyes off him to scan the room, her heart pounding so hard, she could hear its beat in her eardrums. The room was still empty except for bondage gear furnishings surrounded by a faux winter wonderland. She should’ve known this was all too fucking weird to be true. “They were here a minute ago, but now they’re gone. Did you knock me out or something?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. You’re the one claiming to be a block of … Frosty.” She added a sneer to that last word.
He eyed her for a long moment, his gaze steady. “Judith, you’re in no danger from me. I would never hurt you. I could never hurt you.”
“Yeah, right.” She’d had enough of this. Whirling, Judith bolted toward the double fire doors, wanting only to get the hell out of here until whatever they’d drugged her with wore off. She stiffed-armed the doors -- and almost slammed into them face-first when they didn’t open.
With a strangled scream of rage and terror, she drew back and hit them again, trying fruitlessly to force them open. They didn’t even budge. Furious, Judith banged her fists against the metal. “Let me out! Help! I’ve been kidnapped!”
“Nobody can hear you, Judith. Anrid’s magic has seen to that. The doors won’t open until the spell is broken. Or until dawn, if you refuse to help me.”
She whirled. He stood exactly where she’d left him. But as she took a closer look, she realized his big body was tense, as if he was keeping his distance with an effort. Pain tightened the line of his mouth, and his brows were drawn inward, as if he didn’t like what was happening.
Yeah, well, I’m not exactly thrilled myself. Judith sidled away from the door, trying to keep an eye on him while simultaneously scanning for another exit, a weapon, something. Anything. Keep him talking, Judith. Maybe you can take him off guard and get away.
He’d said something about a spell. He must really think she was a moron, though damned if she could tell how they’d pulled this off. Had to be a hallucination. I must be passed out underneath the buffet table right now.
And yet… it all seemed so real. Despite the illogic of the situation, Judith could feel the fabric of her shirt rubbing against her breasts as she breathed, the give of her rubber soles as her weight shifted. The air smelled of pine, roasted meat, and honey, blended with a sharp tang that reminded her of the aftermath of a lightning strike.
But the man watching her with such a troubled expression looked exactly like the ice sculpture she’d spent the last two days creating. Just as that sculpture, in turn, had looked like the man she’d been dreaming about for so many years.
“You mentioned a spell.” Her voice rasped. “What kind of spell?” Oh, come on, Judith, you don’t really believe this shit? And yet even as her rationality sneered, a small voice from her hindbrain insisted that this was real. Inexplicable and terrifying, but real.
He didn’t even hesitate. “The spell to let me live again.”
“You look alive to me.”
“For the moment.”
She glanced around again, her gaze falling on one of the nearby trees. Like the others, assorted sex toys hung from the branches like kinky decorations: handcuffs, a riding crop, toys that did God knew what…
And a bullwhip.
“Planning on dropping dead?” Judith demanded, trying to distract him as she edged closer to the tree.
“I’d really rather not, but that’s up to you.”
That jolted her out of her preoccupation with the tree and the potential weapon dangling from its branches. “Me? What do I have to do with anything?”
“You’re the key to my freedom… if you’re willing to help.” He moved toward her, his blue gaze steady, his steps slow, careful. Crap, he’s a good head taller than me, and he’s got the muscle to match. If Frosty wanted to, he could hurt her badly, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She swallowed and stepped underneath the tree, trying not to be too obvious about her plan to get her hands on that whip. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Nothing you don’t want to.”
“Which doesn’t answer the question.”
“I have been bound in a spell for more than a thousand years.” He sounded so cool, so rational, despite the utter impossibility of the words.
Oh, please. To buy time, she asked, “How did that happen?”
For a heartbeat, his eyes closed and a spasm of grief flashed over his face, pain so stark it jolted her from her angry preoccupation. “I lost the only reason my heart had to beat.”
And for a moment, she found herself believing him, though nothing about the situation was believable. “Was Anrid responsible?”
“She cast the spell, but she was not the reason I asked for oblivion. That was someone else.” One corner of his lip lifted, and his eyes glittered with such rage she froze in instinctive fear. “I assure you, I made him pay for his crime. Unfortunately, revenge is no consolation when all else is ashes. Once he was dead, there was nothing left to pump my blood. I longed for death, but Anrid would not permit that. She bound my spirit into her sapphire and let me sleep for a hundred centuries.”
That declaration should have sounded melodramatic to her twenty-first century ears. It didn’t. There was something about him, something ancient and dark, that made the archaic words ring true. Especially considering the desolation in his eyes.
But as she stared at him, Judith realized there was more to his believability than that. A sense of power cloaked him, intense enough to lift the hair on her arms.
He’s not human. No matter what he looked like, he was something more than a man. She had no idea why she was so convinced of that, but her every instinct told her it was true.
This isn’t a con, sleight-of-hand or trickery. This is real.
Frosty the Snow Dom is on sale for preorder here: Pre-Order Now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iTunes!
Live at Friday 11/24/17
Live at,, Kobo, and iTunes 12/01/17
All New Releases 15% off at 2nd Edition and Box Sets 20% off
I’m also working on the sequel to Arcane Kiss, a full-length novel called Arcane Heart coming in March. And of course, Master of Magic and Master of Seduction are also available in ebook from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple and Kobo.

Friday, October 13, 2017

A Taste of Magic

Dear Reader -- I'm delighted to share a sneak-peak at my newest Mageverse novel, Master of Magic, coming Oct. 17, 2017
Return to New York Times bestselling author Angela Knight’s Mageverse in this never-before-published novella about a man with mysterious abilities and a hidden past—and the woman who must help him decipher his secrets.

Olivia Flynn finds herself on the brink of death, unable to call upon her Sidhe magic, when a handsome stranger rescues her. But this male is no ordinary human, and Olivia wants nothing to do with him. The foreign magic boiling around him is far beyond the power of even the Sidhe.    
Rhys Kincade has never been able to explain his magical abilities. Olivia is the first person he’s encountered who shares his gifts. But before he can ask her about them, they find themselves under attack by a pack of werewolf assassins. An even deadlier threat follows, and the pair is forced to rely on each other as they fight unknown enemies—and an ever-growing attraction between them.

You can pre-order the e-book for $2.99 here:
Amazon         Barnes and Noble     Kobo

Olivia found herself longing to feel the slide and roll of the tendons, the warmth of the skin. Were his palms callused? How would it feel if he touched her?
The craving to touch him, to explore all that powerful muscle made her heart beat faster. She’d spent too many years as a Sidhe alone among humans, pretending to be something  wasn’t. Unable to reveal who and what she really was.
I don’t have to hide with him. He’s in the same boat I am.
But this isn’t the time. I’m being targeted, maybe by Gorin, maybe by somebody else. Either way, I can’t afford to get distracted. She dragged her eyes away from that big, tempting body. Fought to control her need.
“If our bad guy intended to use you as bait,” Rhys said slowly, “why give you your power back? They could’ve kept you paralyzed while those guys killed us both.” He made an impatient noise. “But like you said, it doesn’t make any sense that you’d be working with them, especially given that you killed that wolf to save me.” His amber eyes focused on her, intent and cool. “I need to know if I’m right to trust you.”
Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but he leaned forward and caught her jaw in one big hand. She froze as the sensation of warm, rough skin made her arousal surge yet again.
Then his magic hit in a tingling rush. With a gasp of alarm, she tried to shield, but his power blew right through her hasty barriers as if they were tissue paper.
They were nose to nose. Close enough to kiss.
His amber eyes changed color in a flash, the irises going a bright, piercing gold as the pupils shrank to pinpricks. It wasn’t a human gaze at all. He spoke, his voice resonant and deep. “Are you working with them?”
“No.” He’s put me under a geas! Betrayed anger made her grit her teeth. And she’d just been thinking how much she wanted him! Idiot!
“Do you know who did this? Do you know who’s trying to kill me?”
In her anger, she fought not to answer. The answers poured from her lips anyway. “I have no idea what’s happening or why. I don’t know who cast the geas on me, and I don’t know why anyone would do it to me or why anyone would want you dead.”
“Why are you cooperating with me?”
“Gorin killed my husband and son for King Ansgar. I’ve dreamed of killing him for centuries. You have the power to help me avenge them.”
His hand dropped away from her face, and the compulsion broke.
Olivia jumped off the couch and backed across the room until her shoulders hit the fireplace mantle. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”
Seeing something glowing in her peripheral vision, she realized a fireball floated over her right hand. She banished it, knowing bitterly she didn’t have a prayer against Rhys in afight.
But instead of attacking her, Rhys sank back into the couch, his hands falling loose in his lap. He looked shamed, almost defeated. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I had to know if you were telling me the truth.”
“You could’ve trusted me—the way I’m going to have to trust you, because I can’t put you under a geas.” Her voice sounded more than a little bitter. “I don’t have the power.”