Wednesday, June 17, 2009


Happy Wednesday All! :-)

My Bronze Age Futuristic Menage, THE TOPAZ EMBRACE, for the Menage Amour Line releases today! A sizzling love story combining the limitless possibilies of the future with the exotic allure of the ancient past, THE TOPAZ EMBRACE tells the tale of Ankhet, a mystical Oracle, and the two brave, complicated men who love her, Danar and Tallon. Enjoy!



In 3050, a global network of hereditary, gem-based Oracles—The Oracle Standard—rules a technology bereft Earth. The greedy Intercontinental Federation seeks to wrest power and wealth from the Oracles. Ankhet, Topaz Oracle, near the end of her reproductive years, must produce legitimate issue or the Topaz Oracle Office will fall, and the The Oracle Standard’s power will revert to the Federation. By law, she must allow all sincere Consort Candidates to attempt the test of worthiness. Only a Worthy Consort can bring an Oracle to her sexual peak and serve as a life-mate. After years of failure, Ankhet discovers not one, but two Worthy Consorts, Tallon Sinclair—a bitter stranger shipwrecked on her island, and Danar D’Aubois, her trusted Personal Guard. As she struggles to save the Standard, Ankhet discovers, despite the exquisite pleasure the two bring, both have secrets, and the Federation may not be the only threat.


Summer 3050, Topaz Oracle Island, The Indian Ocean

“Let me go, or by the gods, I’ll bring this temple down stone by
stone.” The angry roar reverberated through the building and straight
down Ankhet’s spine. The furious rattle and clank of metal chains,
accompanied by harsh male grunts, echoed through the marble holy

Oh, dear. What had her staff done now? She hurried across the
polished white stone floor on bare feet, and approached her
unexpected guest. Her acolytes, or assistants, obtained and detained
the man, against his will. According to her maid, Sarri, her
overzealous and conveniently absent Oracle assistants decided this
visitor represented a prime Consort candidate. Gods save her from
matchmaking acolytes skilled at escaping the watchful eye of their
Chief Acolyte.

Embarrassment at the situation almost halted her progress, but she
had a duty to deal with the unfortunate man. Standing just out of his
reach as he spied her, she searched for any hint of the receptive male
response she usually enjoyed. She found only a fierce frown, and his
eyes narrowed as he strained at the manacles trapping him. She took a
little step back.

“How dare you have your minions chain me like this, Oracle.”
The vibration of venom in his even voice as he stared at her, warned
her she’d made an enemy. In a perverse way, the low tones sent
delicious shivers through her body, in spite of his hostility.
His fury she understood, given the unwilling nature of his
“application” for the Consort position. Yet, disappointment gripped
her, as, unlike most of his predecessors, this one appeared unmoved
by her legendary charms, or the esteem of her rank. He projected
great strength of character and dignity. Intriguing and attractive
qualities, to be sure. A viable Oracle Consort must be of sterling—and
strong—character. Perhaps this time her single-minded temple
workers finally got it right.

Too bad their method caused such offense.

“Do you not speak, Oracle?” The guest didn’t bother to hide his

She studied him, ignoring his question as he lay before her on the
floor, facing her, with his back propped up against the wall, glaring in
defiance. While not a handsome man by any current standard, his
face attracted her, with his square jaw and sensitive mouth, a straight,
broad nose and wide brow. A young man, far younger than she, he’d
the carriage of a much more mature man. His eyes, however—they
drew her in and fascinated her. Not brown, not green, nor even
hazel—though that might be the most accurate description of the
color. The emotion projected by his gaze gave it power and his eyes
reflected the undiluted color of tragedy.

“What is your name?” Her gaze remained locked with his while
she awaited his response.

“Tallon Sinclair.”

The deep tones rumbled through the large room, making the fine
hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. Damnation. Even his name
called to her on a primitive level. Tallon. What had her people been
thinking to leave her with a man like this chained in her temple? Well,
she knew what they’d thought, but this could not end the way they
hoped. As soon as the guilty parties returned, she’d see to it they
understood the error of their actions.

If only she could manage to look away.

Hidden within his gaze, beneath the outward fury at his situation,
lay a world of heartbreak and despair. His pain, almost tactile,
reached out to her psyche, her heart. His warrior spirit, even more
dominant than his outward physical appearance, called to the woman
in her. He was her weakness incarnate—a wounded kitten of a man
within the body of a mighty lion.

Retreating behind bravado, she announced, “I am the Topaz
Oracle. You may address me as ‘my lady,’ sir.”

“My lady, I know what you want, and I’ll not cooperate.” Fury
shot golden sparks through his gaze as he pulled against the restraints.
Hurt stung through her chest like a lance. Her appearance did not
please him. No doubt he spent his life surrounded by nubile young
girls vying for his attention. “Ah. So you understand why they
brought you here.” Anger flared as her ego engaged. “Don’t flatter
yourself. My acolytes overstepped their authority in a well-meaning,
but misguided attempt to ensure the Oracle succession.”

“And I’m to believe you had nothing to do with this?” He
rattled the chains again.

“I did not. The future of this temple and the Oracle Standard are
in danger, that is common knowledge, but I neither ordered their
actions, nor did I know of their intent.” All oracles, in spite of their
visionary powers, suffered a blindness regarding their own lives,
leaving them dangerously vulnerable. For this very reason, each
Oracle possessed her own Personal Guard. An Oracle might discern a
coup attempt across the globe in its planning stages, but the true
motivations of those with whom they interacted on a personal level
remained shrouded in mystery.

She eyed him in feigned disdain. “I didn’t approve their selection,
either.” She crossed her arms and attempted to project a nonchalance
she didn’t feel. “How did you come to my island, Tallon Sinclair?”
“I’m a seafaring trader. While en route to Old Asia, a storm came

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