Friday, March 14, 2014

Do you write a series?

Prequel: The Vampire & The Werewolf:
A New Orleans Christmas

The question stopped me cold. Next week, book 7 in my erotic paranormal series comes out. I made PAN with the first book The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome. I’m not a total promo ho, but I do hope the word gets out …

In honor of Her Wolf Ménage, which releases March 20, let’s take a look at the rest of the book family. We'll count-up, one a day. 

A New Orleans Threesome came first. Afterward, I was asked how the two main characters Trevor and Lawrence got together. Since I had the story in my head, I shared. Now, most people prefer to start with .5.

(Prequel): The Vampire & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Christmas

Vampires and werewolves don’t mix … or do they?

Before there were three, there were two. When a vampire swoops in to save Trevor from a rogue gang’s blood sport, the werewolf must fight his own inhibitions. The magic of New Orleans and the holiday season bring together these two unlikely lovers.

“In her first foray into the m/m genre, Ms. Bacio sets the pages ablaze in this sexy Christmas tale featuring two irresistible characters from her The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf series.  There’s nothing better on a cold winter’s night than cozying up with the vampire and the werewolf as they come together in this sizzling story.  This is my Christmas present to myself.”

Rebecca Leigh, author of Dirty Housewives


Lawrence hated the thought of his kind hurting humans. It was his city, and he’d lived in peace here for a very long time. While he couldn’t control the actions of Mother Nature, he certainly could make sure that no vampires pillaged on his turf. Night after night, he’d set out in search of the blood-sucking rejects.
He shook his head. At least she would be all right. He wasn’t sure what he’d find further into the alley. Maybe a friend of hers, or a date. He turned the corner, and quickly accessed the scene: four against one.
He never killed unless necessary. He didn’t take more blood than he needed to survive. And his victims never felt fear or experienced unnecessary violence. Instead, he left them with pleasant fuzzy memories, like a night when they had partied too much, or a dream that they’d rather forget come morning. It certainly helped that he lived in New Orleans and could prey on unsuspecting tourists rather than dine on the locals.
Several years ago, he’d heard rumors about a band of misfit vampires terrorizing the streets. Ironically, incidents had happened close to Halloween, so the police had mistakenly been looking for a gang of teenagers acting like vampires. If the authorities had only known the truth. There were a few people within human society, pretty much on the edges of humanity themselves, who suspected and maybe even knew. Certainly, the author Anne Rice must have had more than an inkling to have written her vampire chronicles and manifesto staring the illustrious Lestat. She had done more for the prophesied soul of the vampire with those books than Bram Stroker’s original Dracula.
Lawrence had overheard countless conversations wondering “if.” Rice made readers believe that if they opened their second-story window, a vampire could very well be lurking outside of it. If only …
Although over his lifetime he’d known about other supernatural creatures, Lawrence hadn’t really come into contact with many. They tended to hang with their own.
If forced, he would have estimated that none of the four attackers in front of him were older than five years dead. What they’d possessed in numbers and sheer dumbness, he’d more than matched in strength, skill and maturity. As he entered the alleyway, he followed a trail of blood. Something smelled different about the spilled lifeblood on the dirty concrete. Whoever the ill-begotten vamps had been playing with this evening wasn’t human, but that didn’t give them any right to torture their victim.
“Hey doggy-doggy, let’s see you shift,” a male voice rang out.
“You like to take it doggy-style?” another person said. “I know a pretty-boy like you must like it doggy-style.”
Laughter filled the blackness of the air, and Lawrence readied himself for action. Most of the time, he’d simply help the one being held captive, but in this circumstance, he didn’t want the others to heal and then strike again. He needed to stop them, and finish them.

m/m erotic paranormal
20,000 words – novella

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