Showing posts with label Naomi Clark. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Naomi Clark. Show all posts

In Cold Blood #erotic #FF #PNR new release from @naomi_jay Read an excerpt

Hi there! Thanks for having me today and letting me share a bit about my new release, IN COLD BLOOD. This is a spin-off from my Urban Wolf series, set in the same world but featuring new characters. My goal with every entry in the Urban Wolf series is to open the world up a little bit more. SILVER KISS gives us a good, solid starting point with werewolves. BLOOD HUNT introduces vampires. PHANTON FEARS teases the idea of ghosts, and COLD NIGHT MOON gives us fae creatures (or one, at any rate). With IN COLD BLOOD, my idea was that, well, someone had to be noticing all these weird and wonderful creepy beasties. And someone would be keeping notes...

This will tie directly into the plot of the next Urban Wolf book, which will take us back to Ayla and Shannon. The circle of life, etc. IN COLD BLOOD is the first of a planned trilogy about Phoebe, Aisling, and the Luporum. I already have book 2 mostly planned out (in my head, anyway), but my aim is write that Ayla and Shannon book first. So if you enjoy IN COLD BLOOD, rest assured that there'll be more from my socially awkward werewolves in love - and the Urban Wolf series in general! - in the future :) Happy reading!

You can find the complete Urban Wolf series, in reading order, at my blog here.



Phoebe Fairley wanted to be a librarian. Somehow, she’s become a vampire hunter. Women are dying across the country and the police are baffled. Phoebe’s just supposed to be gathering information on the deaths, but as the body count mounts, she can’t help but break the rules and get involved. She knows what the killer is—and catching and containing it is vital. If she can persuade the police to believe her, and keep her secretive bosses happy, she stands a chance of capturing a very real, very deadly vampire. Not bad for a werewolf who can’t shapeshift.

Aisling is happy living as a feral wolf. She’s got no time for human affairs, until a mysterious creature attacks her and leaves her in human hands. Now, if she wants her life back, she’ll have to join Phoebe’s hunt. There are just a couple of snags. One, she hates humans. And two, she’s falling hard for Phoebe. With a monster to catch and her own past to protect, will Aisling trust her head or her heart? 


Excerpt


The scene inside the barn was surreal. Two big floodlights overhead lit the barn in glaring white. Half the huge space was taken up with sheep, penned off from the drama but still hysterically bleating and milling together. A grizzled man in a tattered dressing gown and Wellington boots – surely the farmer – leaned into the pen, talking non-stop to the frightened animals. Bales of hay were piled high around the rest of the barn, looking to Phoebe like they might come toppling down any second. They formed a rough arena for the main drama. Two more men held down a naked woman. She thrashed in their grip, tossing her matted red hair and snarling with a viciousness that made Phoebe’s wolf cower. This was their victim, this mad, wild thing?

Spalding hurried over to the farmer and Gibbs ran to the paramedics. They had to be wolves, from the strength they were displaying, but the woman was making them work to keep her still. Phoebe hesitated before following Gibbs – at a distance. Observe, Spalding had said. That was fine. Observing was all she was meant to do. The question was, what exactly was she seeing? The victim of a vampire attack or a feral wolf gone mad? She couldn’t help but lean towards the latter. Perhaps the woman thought the sheep would be easy pickings, but something had gone wrong. Maybe she’d been startled by the farmer or a guard dog. Phoebe had noticed a kennel outside the barn, although there was no sign of a dog now.

As she got closer, she saw the woman’s hands and feet were caked in mud, and there were thin red scratches all over her pale skin. Dried blood on her chest, too, although her endless thrashing made it hard to see where the original wound was. She stopped a few feet away, watching as Gibbs crouched down before the woman and – daringly, Phoebe thought – gripped her chin firmly. She was surprised he didn’t get his fingers bitten off.

The woman growled but couldn’t pull free of Gibbs’ hold. He growled right back, with a force and venom that made Phoebe quake. Did they teach that in training?

For a minute, the pair seemed locked in battle, the woman struggling against all three men in vain while she snarled at Gibbs. He didn’t flinch or loosen his grip, and kept his own domineering growl rumbling on, rising in pitch. The sheep grew more frantic and both the farmer and Spalding yelled at them with a mixture of anger and desperation. Phoebe felt battered, all the noise and tumultuous emotion like an assault. She wanted to run. She forced herself to stay, watching as Gibbs tried to inflict his will on the woman.

As much as pop culture got muddled with myth, some things were always true, just as much for wolves as humans. Some people were simply more dominant than others. Gibbs’ laid-back, clownish persona was all gone now as he pinned the woman down with both his body and his eyes. Phoebe would have caved already, if she’d even had it in her to resist. The woman, whatever her mental state might be, was not so easily dominated. But after what felt like an age, she slumped, stopped fighting, and went still.


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Amazon US
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About the Author

Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

Find me online

Blog
Facebook
Twitter - @naomi_jay

Impossible wasn't impossible anymore. From @naomi_jay and @evernightpub #FF #PNR new release

Thank you for having me today! I'm here with my new Romance on the Go, THROWN TO THE WOLVES. This story was partially inspired by an article I read on Romania's Hoia Forest earlier this year. It's long been famous for paranormal activity, from UFO sightings to the strangely shaped trees. Some people believe it's a gateway to another dimension, whilst others say it's haunted by the ghost of murdered peasants. There's a rich history of folklore and urban legend growing there, and so what better place to set a paranormal tale?

I've stayed away from UFOs and ghosts, though, and instead gone with vampires and werewolves. Well, it is Romania! In THROWN TO THE WOLVES, aspiring author and tattooed tomboy Paige goes hunting for inspiration. And she finds it...along with danger, ancient enemies, and of course, love. I hope you'll enjoy my little venture into the Hoia Forest!



Paige went to Romania looking for inspiration for a book. She found herself caught in a horror story. Attacked and left for dead by a vampire, Paige finds herself at the mercy of Kata, a beautiful, enigmatic werewolf. Their attraction is instant, but Paige's fate hangs in the balance. She may yet be turned into a vampire herself. Soon it's clear to Paige that the only way to save herself may be to return to the woman who attacked her...even if it means placing both herself and Kata in the greatest danger.


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Excerpt

This was her rescuer, she guessed. She'd gone from the jaws of a wolf to the bed of a woman, so someone had rescued her. But there was nothing about this woman that said “safe” or “friendly.” She was regal, imposing, and her silence was intimidating. But Paige didn't have it in her to sit meekly and say nothing. For all she knew, she could be worse trouble now, with this woman, than she'd been out in the woods or with the creature she'd fled in the first place.

The memory of the woman who wasn't a woman made her shudder, and she touched her throat. She felt dried blood and a dull ache, and it forced her to speak.

"What are you?" she asked.

It was probably the wrong thing to say. She should have said thank you, or asked where she was, or even asked the woman's name. But those questions didn't matter even a tiny fucking bit. Not after the nightmare she'd found herself in.

The woman laughed, a rich sound that made Paige think, incongruously, of sticky toffee pudding. "You are smarter than I thought," she said in heavily-accented English. "When you see a woman lost in these woods at night, you don't think she can be very smart."

Unnerved, Paige sat up slowly, pulling the rough duvet up with her. She was still fully clothed, she realized, but the duvet gave her a sense of security anyway. Stupid, but true.

"My name is Kata," the woman continued. She turned to a small, rough-hewn table at the bedside. A jug of water and a glass sat there, and she filled the glass before offering it to Paige.

Paige ignored it, despite the dry thirst gnawing at her. "I didn't ask your name."

Kata gave her a mock innocent look, eyes wide. "Sorry. Perhaps my English is not so good."

Paige thought Kata's English was probably fine, certainly better than Paige's Romanian. "What are you?" she asked again, louder and slower this time, in that ignorant manner so many Brits abroad used that she hated. Her voice shook as she spoke, but she managed to hold Kata's gaze and she was proud of that.

Kata set the glass down and pointed to the wound on Paige's throat. "You have seen things already tonight I think you would not believe, yes? So I will ask you, what do you think I am?"

Her voice was gentle, with genuine curiosity in the question. And Paige thought about it, and thought she could fall into hysterics or rage, deny what her heart already knew and claim it was impossible. It would be easy—nice, even—to do that, because twelve hours ago, she would have said it was impossible, and she would have laughed at anyone who told her otherwise.

The problem was, hysteria and denial never helped. Staying calm, acknowledging the problem and finding a solution, that was what helped, whatever the situation. And besides, wasn't the bite at her throat proof that it wasn't impossible? Wasn't passing out in front of a wolf and waking up in front of a woman just further proof? Impossible wasn't impossible anymore.

So she said the impossible words. "I think you're a werewolf."

About the Author

Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

Find me online

Blog - http://naomiclarkwrites.blogspot.co.uk/
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/naomijclark?ref=bookmarks
Twitter - @naomi_jay


Blog guest @naomi_jay talks about her #newrelease Night and Chaos @evernightpub


Welcome to guest author Naomi Clark

I love a good reunited lovers story. There's so much scope for drama and emotion, misunderstandings, rediscovery, and good old-fashioned lust. NIGHT AND CHAOS has all those things, as Ryan is thrown back together with Jackson, the man she abandoned six years ago. You'll learn her reasons for doing so...Whether she can convince herself and Jackson that she made the right choice is another story!

Ryan and Jackson's journey is only just beginning, and I've got two more books to write before they get their ending (happy or otherwise...), but I hope this first book will persuade you to come on that journey with them.

Blurb
Ryan's past isn't just haunting her. It's trying to kill her.

Ryan McCarthy fled Kimberlyn Island, her father, and her lover six years ago, desperate to build a life away from the weird science and supernatural experiments of her childhood. But everything she hoped to escape comes back with a vengeance when she's kidnapped and tortured by a possessed madman out for revenge on the man responsible for his possession: Ryan's father.

Now, reunited with the lover she abandoned, Ryan is forced back into a world of danger and darkness she no longer understands, pursued by enemies with powers she can't fathom. But Ryan's not entirely powerless herself. She'll have to use every trick she knows—as well as the mystic gift she hates—to stay ahead of those enemies. And that will be easier said than done.



Excerpt

Jackson’s eyes shone in the dark when he turned to look at me. “You awake?” he asked.
            I considered pretending to be asleep, decided it wouldn’t achieve anything. “Yes.”
            “You okay?”
            I considered that too, not sure of the answer. “I don’t know. I’m exhausted. That’s all I can really say for sure right now.”
            He was quiet for a while, just breathing softly again, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then he said, “I didn’t mean to bully you into coming to London, you know. If you want to stay here...”
            “No, I want to come,” I cut in. “I can’t stay here.” Alright, that probably didn’t spin it in the best light, but Jackson didn’t seem to notice the back-handed compliment.
            “I’m glad you’re coming. I’m glad you’re here. It’s not exactly how I imagined our reunion, but I’m still glad.”
            I couldn’t be sure, but I thought he was smiling. Despite myself, I had to smile back. “And how did you imagine it? Us running across flower-filled meadows to kiss in the rain?”
            “I don’t know, really.” There was a rustle of material and he pulled himself out of his makeshift bed of bundled-up towels and clothes and sat up, arms resting on his knees. He stared away from me now. “I guess I always figured you’d come home eventually.”
            I twisted onto my side, propping my head up on my hand and tangling my fingers in my hair. “I wouldn’t have,” I whispered, heart aching for him. Why did he wait? Had he really believed I’d come back, knowing how much I hated Kimberlyn and APTT? Surely not. Guilt lanced me, like I’d stolen something from him. I suppose I had, in a way. Six years of his life, wasted on waiting for me.
            “Didn’t I make you happy enough?” he asked.
            My throat closed up and tears stung my eyes. “Jackson, don’t.”
Buy Links

All Romance Ebooks - http://tinyurl.com/jfxyk93

About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

Find me online:

Twitter - @naomi_jay


The lovely @naomi_jay visits the blog today with new release 'The Sea Wife' #FFromance @EvernightPub



It's probably no secret that I love shapeshifters, but normally I stick with werewolves. What can I say, I'm a traditionalist when it comes to these things! For THE SEA WIFE though, I branched out. It's impossible to be a fan of folklore and mythology and not know about selkies. There are loads of different stories surrounding these seal shifters, but I think probably the best-known is the idea that, if a man steals a seal-woman's skin, she's trapped and forced to become his wife. It's a sad story, but then, romantic tragedy seems to be a key element of selkie lore.

In THE SEA WIFE, I wanted to play on that element, but hopefully you won't find Charley and Nessa's story too sad! I like a little hope and happiness in my love stories after all!



Charley and Nessa are from two different worlds. Nessa is a selkie and Charley is all too human. When selkies and humans fall in love, tragedy can follow. For Charley and Nessa, that never seems to matter when they're together. But when Nessa's seal skin is stolen, the lovers uncover all the reasons humans and selkies should stay in their separate worlds.

Read an Excerpt

In seconds, Nessa was up on the ledge beside her, and Charley pulled her into her arms to kiss her fiercely. Nessa tasted of sea spray and sunlight, her long dark hair smelt of sea lavender, and her body fit perfectly against Charley’s, just as it always had. Now Charley was truly home.
            They didn’t need words to greet each other, not really. They’d been meeting in this cave since Charley was fifteen. They’d been kissing since she was sixteen. Nessa slid her hands into Charley’s hair, freeing the messy red waves from the loose knot she’d tied them in. Nessa’s fingers trailed down Charley’s throat as they kissed, then down to grab the hem of Charley’s t-shirt. They broke the kiss briefly so Nessa could pull the t-shirt off and toss it aside. She fumbled with Charley’s bra, as she always did, and Charley giggled, as she always did, and slipped it off for Nessa. That too, was tossed away carelessly.
            Charley skimmed her hands down Nessa’s bare back, relishing the little shivers she caused. She pushed away Nessa’s heavy locks and kissed the curve of her neck, licking drops of seawater from her skin while Nessa cupped Charley’s breasts and ran her fingers round her nipples. Charley sighed, burying her face in Nessa’s hair and soaking up her light, delicate touches. They’d been apart too long and she needed Nessa with an urgency that wouldn’t settle for light or delicate. She slid her arms round Nessa’s waist and pushed her to the blanket. She stood quickly, hopping like an idiot to kick her jeans off, and Nessa watched her with barely-contained laughter.
            “If you just didn’t bother with clothes at all…”
            “I’d be arrested for public indecency and you’d never see me again.” Charley dropped to her knees beside Nessa, trailing her fingers over Nessa’s stomach and down between her legs.

Buy Links

All Romance Ebooks - http://tinyurl.com/pfefxue

About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

Find me online:

Twitter - @naomi_jay


Naomi Clark is my guest author with #newrelease 'Blood Witch' #FF romance from @EvernightPub


Lola Guntram is used to being an outcast. She's the only blood witch in Fort Rosser, mistrusted by other witches and happier working solo. But when her dark practices make her the prime suspect in a brutal murder investigation, she's forced to turn to others for help. Not that she has many allies – her ex-girlfriend thinks Lola is the killer, and the local coven leader thinks Lola will corrupt them all if she gets too close.


Help comes in an expected – and alluring – form. Tristesse is a demon on the run, beautiful, enigmatic, and suspiciously keen to assist Lola while she chases down the real killer. How can Lola refuse? With the police breathing down her neck, accusations flying, and inhuman monsters on the streets, Lola needs all the help she can get. The killer is angry, desperate, and determined. But so is Lola Guntram. And she doesn't care how dark or bloody the magic has to get – she's going to stop them.

Read an excerpt
There was probably never a good time to have the police knock on your door, Lola reflected. But three am on a September morning was definitely one of the worst. The fog outside seeped into the house with the stone-faced detectives, and the brisk chill of the night sank into Lola's bones. She'd only been home a couple of hours; only just stripped off and gone to bed. Now, huddled in her ancient rocking chair by the embers of a dying fire, she didn't feel as exhausted as she should. She felt like someone had stuck a live wire up her ass.
            “I know this can't be good news,” she addressed the female detective, who introduced herself simply as 'Hardy.' “So you'd better just get on with it.”
            Hardy, a brunette who did look exhausted, raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure it's not good news, Miss Guntram?”
            Lola tried a smile. “Do the cops ever show up after midnight with good news?”
            Her partner, Scherer, looked fresher. He sat on the edge of his seat like he might spring up any second, but he smiled back. It wasn't an entirely happy expression. “You caught us out, Miss Guntram. This isn't a social call.”
            “Then don't drag it out,” Lola said. His nervous energy was infectious.
            They exchanged a knowing look. “Where were you between ten and midnight tonight?” he asked.
            The blunt question created a knot of dread in her stomach and she had to swallow hard before she answering. “Working. I was with a client. Why?”
            Hardy fixed cold blue eyes on her. It was a searching look, penetrating. If Lola didn't know better, she'd wonder if the detective was trying to probe her psychically. But both detectives felt like nulls to her sharp senses. “Can you prove that?” she asked.
            Irritation mixed with the dread. “Yes, of course. I have a diary in my office and you can call the client – although she probably isn't going to be any happier to hear from you than I am. What's this about?”
            Scherer couldn't quite manage Hardy's gimlet gaze, but his half-smile had disappeared. “What exactly is your job, Miss Guntram?”
            Lola shifted in the rocking chair, wishing she could cover herself with the blanket she sat on. But it would make her look vulnerable and she had a distinct feeling that wouldn't do her any favors.  She settled for tightening the belt on her robe and pushing her shoulders back. Three years of childhood ballet lessons had taught her that good posture always created a good impression.
            “I'm a spiritual consultant. I help clients with difficult decisions, life choices, with emotional and psychological problems.” That was an edited, socially-acceptable answer. Lola wasn't about to get into witchcraft and spellcasting. She rubbed her wrists absently, glad her robe had long sleeves that hid the scars on her arms.
            Scherer sneered at her answer, making her doubly glad she'd given the short version. “So you're a New Age guru or something? Separating the gullible from their money?”
            “Scherer,” Hardy said, “let's not get distracted.”
            “Yes, I'd love it if we could stay on track,” Lola snapped. “Maybe we can start with you telling me what this is about? It's late, I'm tired, I have an early start -”
            “Why does 'spiritual consulting' take place so late at night?” Hardy asked. “That strikes me as odd, Miss Guntram.”
            The sound of her own surname was starting to grate on Lola. “It's a new moon tonight. Very good for certain practices.”  Were they ever going to get to the fucking point? She couldn't think of a single thing she'd done that would bring them to her door, and it felt like she'd never find out at this rate.
            “So if we checked with your client, they would confirm you were nowhere near the Red Lotus tonight?” Hardy asked.
            Lola blinked. “The Red Lotus? No, of course not. Why would I be there?” The idea was so laughable, she almost forgot her nerves and irritation for a second. The Red Lotus was a pretty exclusive S&M club – members only, sky-high fees, that kind of thing. It was also owned and managed by Lola's ex-girlfriend. Even if she'd been into the kink that the Red Lotus offered, Lola could never have gone there. It would have been mortifying. She felt herself blushing at the very thought.
            “Well, you tell us, Miss Guntram.” Hardy leaned forward again, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands under her chin. The movement put her face in shadow, with the room only lit by a soft peachy lamp, and Lola was struck by the thought that Hardy would be beautiful if she didn't look so tense and tired. “You see, a woman was found dead there tonight.”
            Lola's heart jumped, then plummeted. “A woman? Not Rowan?” Her voice squeaked and she covered her mouth as if she could recover the sound.
            “Ms Morgan is fine,” Scherer said. Lola felt some of her dread drain away.
            “She is the reason we're here, however,” Hardy said. “She seems quite sure you're responsible for the killing, you see.”
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From the author
I think one of the fun and frustrating parts of being a writer is that the idea you start out with is often not the story you end up with (or is that just me?). BLOOD WITCH is a prime example.

This novella started out as a way to keep myself occupied during my Christmas break last year, and turned into a labour of love. It's also turned out to be a bit of an exquisite corpse, in the sense that it's a patchwork of ideas and characters from other projects I started and abandoned in the past. Some facts:

1. The opening scene is an adaptation of something I scribbled in a notepad before work one morning. A witch (then called Lilah) was being interviewed by the police. At that point I had no idea why and I never wrote any more. I did steal that opening and turn Lilah into Lola for BLOOD WITCH.

2. The start of chapter two, where Lola visits her ex-girlfriend, Rowan, started life as an urban fantasy parody I was writing to amuse myself. It was supposed to be part of a really OTT cliched UF story, but I ended up taking it too seriously (as I am prone to do) and decided to make it part of BLOOD WITCH.

3. One of the side characters, Caleb, was originally a secondary character in a paranormal romance I was writing a few years back. I got about 20k in before realising I didn't really know what I was doing, but I liked Caleb and decided to work him in somewhere else.

BLOOD WITCH has come a long way from my initial idea of a short story about a witch falsely accused of murder. That core idea is still a big part of the story, but the world has grown beyond my plans and I now see this as the start of a series instead of a stand-alone mini project. I'm so glad my original plan changed so much because now I get to explore and share a whole new bunch of ideas and characters with you!

Naomi Clark visits today with her #lesbian #eroticromance new release from Evernight Publishing, The Beast of Birch Hill



Wildlife photographer and cryptozoology blogger Emma Jordan came to Birch Hill expecting to find another urban legend. The rumours of a big cat stalking the woods around this quiet town surely had to be just that - rumours. But when the evidence starts to pile up that Birch Hill really does have a killer cat on the loose, Emma finds herself caught in a confusing game of cat and mouse. And her blossoming relationship with Abi Blakely might just be pushing her further into danger.


Excerpt

A couple of hours later, showered, changed, and feeling human again, Emma headed back to Abigail's Bakes. She told herself she was just looking to grab a quick lunch and sit somewhere pleasant while she updated her blog. Privately she had to admit it would be nice to just look at Abi while she worked.
            The place was much busier than it had been that morning; it was full of kids and families jostling for table space. Abi and a younger girl worked the counter with cheer and ease, and cafe was filled with chatter and laughter. Emma joined the queue, trying to catch Abi's eye. When Abi saw her, she waved and favored Emma with that infectious smile.
            “How was your hike? Did you catch the Beast yet?” she asked Emma as she served her.
            “Not yet. Maybe later.” Emma picked out a bacon and cheese strudel and a spiced apple muffin. “Do you have wifi in here? I need to get online.”
            Abi passed her a slip of paper with a password on it along with her food. “Help yourself. Catch you later.”
            Emma smiled, hoping the words weren't just a mere formality. She found a table tucked away in the corner and flipped open her netbook. Her main source of income was her photography, supplying stock images for websites and brochures, entering as many competitions as she could, and doing the occasional teaching course if she wasn't traveling. It was steady money, and a hefty inheritance from a grandparent she'd never met allowed her to live in comfort and indulge her other passion – the alien big cat stories. Her blog, After Dark All Cats Are Leopards, was one of the better-regarded in both the cryptid and sceptic communities and she had a steady following. When she'd announced last week that she was heading for Birch Hill, her views had skyrocketed, and even though she didn't have much news to add yet, it was probably a good idea to update now.
            She plugged her digital camera into the netbook and uploaded the photos she'd taken, eating as she worked. The strudel and the muffin were both perfectly delicious, and she allowed herself a brief fantasy of kidnapping Abi and making her bake for her full-time.
            She didn't notice Abi had joined her until the other woman pushed a cup of coffee to her. “Looks like thirsty work,” Abi remarked.
            Emma jumped, then grinned. “Bloggers are powered entirely by caffeine. Thanks.”
            “So I looked you up after you left,” Abi said. “Why big cats?” She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her dark curls framed her face perfectly, her expression attentive and interested. Emma squirmed a little under her keen gaze.
            “When I was a kid I wanted to find Bigfoot,” Emma confessed. “My dad used to take me out hiking in the Rocky Mountains and tell me stories about Bigfoot and skinwalkers, all kinds of stuff. I just loved it. Then I grew up and decided there wasn't much chance of Bigfoot really being out there. But big cats? Definitely.”
            “You're so sure? Even though nobody's found a breeding population of wild tigers anywhere?” Abi asked with a grin.
            “America's a big country. There's plenty of space for wide-roaming animals to hide. And big cats are generally elusive in their natural territories anyway. Yeah, I'm sure. People brought lions and tigers over here with circuses in the nineteenth century and there are thousands of people keeping them illegally today. There are orphanages for abandoned exotic animals up and down the country. It's not completely ridiculous that some escape or are released into the wild. And cats are so adaptable. Even if we're not talking big breeding populations, I think it's more likely that there are non-native big cats out there than not.”
            “You love this stuff, don't you?” Abi said, looking thoughtful.
            Emma flushed. “Was I rambling?”
            “No, it's interesting! I wish I could come out big cat hunting with you, but Jed probably wouldn't let me.” She stuck her tongue out as if she'd eaten something distasteful.
            “Well, he's not coming either,” Emma said. “I take it he's more than just prickly with you?”
            Abi shuffled Emma's empty plates around, looking embarrassed. “Oh, we just...clash. He's pretty conservative and I'm not. He thinks I lower the tone of the neighborhood.”
            “Not a fan of baked goods?” Emma joked.
            “Baked goods or lesbians,” Abi said with a shrug.
            Emma's heart gave a little twist, but she kept her tone calm and amused as she replied. “Oh dear. I'd better not answer any personal questions he asks me then.”
            Abi gave her a thoughtful look again that turned into a shy smile. “So what are you doing for the rest of the day? I'm off this afternoon.”
            “I'm going back into the woods this evening but I'm free til then. Maybe...” Emma searched for something that didn't sound too forward but still made it plain she liked Abi. “Maybe we could hang out?” Ugh. Lame.
            Abi didn't seem to notice. She flashed a dazzling smile. “How about a guided tour of Birch Hill? There's not much to see, but with the right company it has a certain charm.”
            “It's a date.”
            Abi stood, grabbing Emma's plates. “Give me an hour and we're on.”
            Emma watched her sashay away with a flutter of excitement. If the Beast of Birch Hill didn't show up, Abi might prove just as exciting.

About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

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Romance with a twist as Naomi Clark releases an Evernight Publishing #free read

Phantom Fears – An Evernight Free Read


As a private investigator with a werewolf girlfriend, Shannon Ryan is used to the unusual. But her latest case has even level-headed Shannon questioning reality. Joyce Bonner swears her daughter is being haunted by a poltergeist. Charlotte Bonner swears she's not. Shannon has one night to uncover the facts behind the supposed supernatural phenomena. Between an over-enthusiastic ghost-hunter and her own scepticism, can she get to the truth?


Read an Excerpt

Charlotte moaned again, mumbling something incoherent and probably rude. She sat up slowly, as if she was moving through tar. “Whassup? S’not time for school.”
            “There was a power cut,” I said in explanation. “We just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
            “I’m fine,” she said irritably. “Just wanna sleep.”
            Esther fussed around her like a mother hen, fiddling with the duvet and muttering about hormones. I was about to tell the au pair to leave Charlotte be when the screaming started.
            I’m not ashamed to admit, I jumped. Esther did too, clutching at the bedpost for support. Charlotte just groaned “What the fuck?” and buried herself under her duvet. I wished I felt so apathetic. It was a woman’s scream, shrill and eerie, and once again I was plunged back into the shadows of Paris. I didn’t want Ayla’s night vision or sense of smell anymore; I just wanted Ayla.
            I sucked in a deep breath and reminded myself forcefully that there was no such thing as ghosts. “We should go find out what that is,” I said, impressed at how calm I sounded. Esther gripped my hand as we left Charlotte’s bedroom and I squeezed her fingers as I would Ayla’s, missing the warmth and reassurance of Ayla’s firm grip.
            Taiki was running down the hall when we came out, a torch in hand. “How amazing is this? Actual manifestation! I can’t wait to see the data!”
            I snatched the torch from him since he was waving it around like a lunatic. The beam wasn’t very bright, but I felt better with a light in my hand. The sound of clanking blended in with the screams now, like some old brass machine full of rusty gears. I gritted my teeth, hating the sound. “Where’s Joyce?” I asked Taiki.
            “In the kitchen. Where’s Charlotte?”
            “In her room, trying to sleep through this racket.” I shone the torch around the hall, not sure what I expected to see. My chest was tight with adrenaline, but the longer I stood here listening to the awful noise, the less nervous I felt. Noise was all it was. No slime dripping down the walls, no apparitions or flying objects. It was surprisingly anti-climactic and I just wanted it to stop. That meant finding out where it came from.
            Without waiting for the others, I ran down to the kitchen, calling Joyce’s name. She sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands. I touched her shoulder lightly and she jumped, slapping my hand away.
            “Shannon! Oh goodness, I’m sorry. I just…my nerves…I can’t take much more of this.”
            “Then let’s stop it,” I said. The noise wasn’t as loud down here, although I still had to raise my voice to be heard. “Let’s get the lights back on, okay? Where’s the circuit board?”
            “In the basement.”
            Of course it was. What horror film scenario was complete without a trip to the basement in the dark? “Right, show me the way then.”
Find the book:
http://naomiclarkwrites.blogspot.co.uk/

About the Author

My first love as a writer is urban fantasy, quickly followed by werewolf myth and legend. The Urban Wolf series lets me combine the two and put my own spin on them – what more could a girl want? When I'm not writing, I'm probably creating my own perfumes, reading, watching wacky documentaries and/or drinking fancy tea.