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Monthly Archives: July 2020

The power he craved #MFRWhooks

Huemac, a half-breed, covets ultimate power, but he needs two things—access to the royal family and an ancient artifact. He attains the former by seducing the Emperor’s sister, and then steals the latter.

 

Moctezuma, the newly crowned Emperor, comes from a long line of powerful gods known as Sin-Eaters. He desires peace among his people, but an ancient prophecy warns of war.

 

Huemac discovers the incantation to activate the fabled Athame of Souls, a mythical weapon capable of entrapping souls. His quest to rule is within his grasp. Only one thing stands in his way—Moctezuma.

 

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Excerpt

Grudgingly he had to admit Atl had been right about the view. It was breathtaking. He fisted his hands on his hips as he scanned the valley. “All of this belongs to our people. Can you imagine the power involved? The sheer magnitude of power our ancestors wielded.” Power he craved more than his next breath.

She shrugged. “Many days I have thanked the gods that I am the youngest. I have no desire to be bound to the politics and tedium of running the kingdom. It is much better that my brothers and parents think I am a pampered pretty princess,” 

Huemac paused. Had she really just said that? He studied her a moment. “No, my love. I do believe people underestimate you.”

She nodded. “Exactly.” She briefly held his gaze before looking away again. “You have some ulterior motive for bringing me to the Valley of the Fallen.”

He raised her hand and kissed her fingertips. She was just a little too close to the truth. “I cannot lie, I have.” He offered a smile. “There have been rumors of a magnificent sunset from here.”

Her gaze never wavered from his. “And this has nothing to do with exploring the caves to see what ancient secrets we can find?”

Hopefully his surprise didn’t show on his face. “I love a good adventure, do you agree?”

She clapped her hands and bounced as a child would. “I so love exploring what the ancients did.” Catching his hand once more, she drew him toward the cave entrance. “So many of the old ways have been lost, but a few of the ancients are still around, and after the next new moon I will go to learn from one of them.” Metztli rubbed her thumb and forefinger together as they entered the darkness. A moment later a small flame flickered between her fingers.

For a moment, Huemac was awed by her magick but he resented the ease with which she conjured the flame. That was just one more reason to ensure that his people stayed pure and ceased mingling with humans. He stood next to her and surveyed the antechamber.

The low ceilings offered just enough clearance so neither would have to stoop. The rough-hewn walls were covered in lichen and matted spiderwebs.

Metztli cupped the flame within her palms, formed a light the size of a lemon, then lightly tossed the orb in the air. It hung there, illuminating the cavern and the passages at either side. She beamed when she turned to him. “Which way should we go?”

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Subservient #MFRWhooks

Huemac, a half-breed, covets ultimate power, but he needs two things—access to the royal family and an ancient artifact. He attains the former by seducing the Emperor’s sister, and then steals the latter.

 

Moctezuma, the newly crowned Emperor, comes from a long line of powerful gods known as Sin-Eaters. He desires peace among his people, but an ancient prophecy warns of war.

 

Huemac discovers the incantation to activate the fabled Athame of Souls, a mythical weapon capable of entrapping souls. His quest to rule is within his grasp. Only one thing stands in his way—Moctezuma.

 

Available on

Excerpt

Huemac stared at the piece of parchment in his hand. A servant had delivered it some fifteen minutes past. It was a formal invitation to dinner with the royal family. He sneered at the gold-embossed writing. Summoned as if he were a subservient being.

 

He tossed the invitation aside, having already given his affirmative reply to the servant. With a glance over his shoulder to ensure the door was closed and locked, he glided to a wooden-and-brass chest at the end of his bed. He shoved it aside with a grunt. Next. he grasped the lip of one of the massive stones that made up the floor. Sweat beaded then rolled down his face from the effort.  He hefted the stone with a grinding sound. His muscles quivered, but he set the rock aside in front of the chest. Huemac knelt, then placed his arm in the floor opening all the way up to his shoulder. After a moment of probing the damp, cool space his fingers closed around a bundle of cloth. He pulled the object out, then sat back.

 

He unrolled the cotton with great care to reveal a dagger in a worn leather sheath. Emeralds, rubies, and opals adorned the gold hilt. He pulled the blade free. The honed metal glinted dully in the light with a dim glow. An ominous moan reverberated around the room. The sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck and set his teeth on edge. It seeped around and through him, drawing him closer to the dagger’s razor-sharp edge. He sheathed it with a snap. The mournful song stopped. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He needed to find the incantation that would allow him to control the knife. Without those precious words, he would be as susceptible as the other gods.

 

Perhaps he would use his dinner invitation to peruse the library once more.

 

****
 

Huemac could not keep his gaze from Metztli over dinner. Even though Moctezuma sat at the head of the table, Huemac could not stop staring. She seemed to have grown more radiant and beautiful since he last saw her. Her dark wavy tresses were pinned in a complicated updo of braids and coils that left her long graceful neck exposed. Her only jewelry was a glittering blood-red ruby choker which sat at the hollow of her throat.

 

He longed to explore the long column with butterfly kisses and soft bites. Gripping his water goblet a little tighter, he reminded himself that now was not the time to indulge in such lurid thoughts. He brought the glass to his lips and drank. The coolness washing across his tongue helped settle him but did not abate the hardness between his legs.

 

“I understand that my sister has requested you as part of her personal guard,” Moctezuma began offhandedly. “This is a much-coveted position.”

Huemac pretended not to see the dark glare Metztli shot Moctezuma. “Indeed, Lord Emperor. It is a testament of the trust and faith the princess has in me.” He allowed pride and arrogance to flow through his voice.

 

Moctezuma merely smiled. “Please do not stand on formality, old friend. I am rather pleased Metztli has requested you.”

Huemac coughed in surprise. He made the mistake of glancing directly into Moctezuma’s eyes and once more experienced the sensation of falling. With great effort, he looked away. Had the emperor seen anything?

 

Moctezuma frowned, then rubbed his temples. “I will be speaking with Tialoc about the reassignment once he returns.”

 

Hope that had nothing to do with his own plot soared through Huemac. Once more he wondered if he were merely using Metztli as a means to an end of if he truly had feelings for her. “And when will that be?”

 

Moctezuma stared at a point beyond Metztli’s shoulder. “Three days’ time. In the meantime, I have spoken with Xochiti to lighten your duties so that the two of you may be permitted some time here and there.”

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Christmas in July #MFRWhooks

Secrets abound in Benson's Bakery. A crazed Santa wants something valuable hidden inside the building, and only two things stand in his way...Jake and Sara.

 

When Sara Henderson receives threatening letters just days before Christmas, she asks sexy bread baker Jake Benson for help. Jake is more than happy to provide the muscle to keep the beautiful cake decorator from harm, but he has an ulterior motive--to steal a kiss under the mistletoe. Sara wants that kiss as much as he does, but first they have a mystery to solve.

 

Will they find out who is stalking Sara, or will Santa succeed in stealing Christmas? 

Excerpt

Once Tori arrived, Sara returned to the office.  Jake stood in the prep area, still up to his elbows in dough.  He glanced up as she walked by. “I’m going with you to the bank.”

 

“You’re behind on the breads. I can take Tori with me or wait until Seth gets back.”

 

“I won’t be that long, Sara.”

 

She faced him.  “Neither will I.”

 

He plopped a portion of dough on a scale, checking the weight before rounding it in a ball.  “I’ll be done by the time you’re finished with the deposit.”

 

She groaned.  He wouldn’t leave her alone until she agreed to his company.  “Fine, I’ll even start the car to give you extra time.”

 

Jake inclined his head and continued his task.  Sara studied the way he manipulated the dough, used the heels of his hands to push the bread away and his strong fingers to fold it over and bring it back.  Over and over, he tugged and pulled, kneading and twisting. For a moment, Sara envisioned him doing the same thing to her, even when he occasionally pinched the dough to see if it was ready.

 

“You’re staring,” he said.

 

She swallowed.  “I wasn’t. How long will the dough take to rise?”

 

“Depends on how much heat and moisture it gets.”

 

“What happens if there’s too much heat and moisture?”  She met and held his gaze.

 

“The dough gets too sticky and it won’t rise as much.”  He never stopped moving his hands.

 

She wondered what would get a rise out of him.  “I-I’ll be in the office.”

 

He rounded the dough.  “I’ll be here.”

 

She spun on her heel and bumped into the door, her face burned when he laughed behind her. Head held high she entered the office and closed the door.  What was she doing thinking about Jake like that? Could he really want to pursue something with her now? She put her hands to her flaming cheeks, glancing through the door window. He still had his eyes on her. She spun away, and leaned against the door, a hand over her racing heart. A faint smile brushed the corners of her mouth as she went to the safe and pulled out the deposit.

 

Ten minutes later Sara had the money bundled, her change order ready, and her coat on.  She stepped out of the office, digging in her purse for her keys. “I’m starting the car.  It’s snowing again.”

 

“Wait for me. I just have to wash my hands.”  Jake placed the last of the dough in loaf pans.

 

“My car is three feet from the door.”  She shook her head. “I’m just warming up the car!”

 

He chuckled.  “I still have to wash my hands.”

 

With a huff, Sara stepped into the back alley and slammed the door.  She paused, thumbing through the jumble of keys for the right one and peered around the drab gray world.  Her car wasn’t exactly three feet from the door, more like thirty. She pulled her hood over her ebony hair and started forward.

 

She was perfectly capable of going to the bank by herself, but now that she was in a winter wonderland alone, her bravado failed.  Sara crunched across the snow, bare asphalt peeking through in spots. The keys jangled as her foot slid on an icy patch. She stuttered stepped and came to a bone-jarring halt. That could’ve been bad, she’d have to throw down more salt. Drawing in a deep breath, she moved forward again.

 

Rough hands seized her jacket.

 

Sara struggled for purchase while jerking away from her assailant.  How could she have been so stupid? Panic turned her limbs to jelly, her breath came in stuttered gasps. She had to get away. His strong grip held her purse and jacket.  She pried at his hands, but he refused to release her. Twisting in his grasp, she stared into his cold eyes, his thin lips curling into a sneer.

 

“Let go!” she shouted.

 

“Give me what I want!”

 

Sara wrenched away from him, ripping her coat.  He struggled to retain his grip, yanking the purse tangled around her arm. If she could get enough room to maneuver she could get away. His fingers slipped. She raised her foot and kicked, her boot connecting with his shin.  He howled, but didn’t release her.

 

He seized her arms, lifting her. Sucking in a breath, she squirmed this way and that to break his hold. Santa’s sleeve fell back. Her eyes fastened on the bit of ink ringing his wrist. She struggled harder. A shriek left her lips and disappeared into the snow. She kicked her legs, hoping to connect with a body part. Nothing but air. He swung her around. She should’ve waited. The door scraped open. He gave her one final, violent shake, dropped her and fled.

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