Symphony of
Light and Winter
Etopia Press
Symphony of Light and Winter
Symphony of Light Book One
Renea Mason
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Length: Novel
Word Count: 88,375
Page Count: 389
Price: 5.99
ISBN: 978-1-940223-10-0
Heat Level: 4
Release Date: 06/21/2013
Symphony of Light Book One
Renea Mason
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Length: Novel
Word Count: 88,375
Page Count: 389
Price: 5.99
ISBN: 978-1-940223-10-0
Heat Level: 4
Release Date: 06/21/2013
One woman. Seven men. All bound by one man’s undying devotion.
Fundraiser Linden Hill has a knack for reading people. She always
knows which conversations will put a prospect at ease, which drink will loosen
a patron’s lips—or his wallet, and how cleavage will make a donor sweeten the
deal. She’s even foreseen her dateless weekends four hundred and sixty-four
times in a row.
But
ten years after watching life drain from her former mentor’s and first love’s
eyes, her skills for divining the predictable are lost. When Cyril returns,
he’s still gorgeous, but this time he’s beyond human, far less dead, and
pissed. His lack of memory drives him to desperate acts, and his turbulent
re-acquaintance with Linden pulls her into his war with a creature hell-bent on
his destruction. His group of six supernatural men share a tantalizing secret,
but despite the hunger, it’s love that leads her to sacrifice everything to
save him…
Less than 50 words blurb
Ten years after watching her first love die, he returns. He’s
still gorgeous, but far less dead, and pissed. Cyril and Linden’s turbulent
re-acquaintance pulls her into a war with a creature hell-bent on his
destruction. Despite the hunger, it’s love that leads her to sacrifice
everything to save him.
20 word marketing teaser
He’s back from the dead. She has a lot of explaining to do. Can they
quench the passion long enough to survive the truth?
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promo
Love
Paranormal Romance? Some readers have described it as Fifty Shades meets
Twilight and the Black Dagger Brotherhood. While others say it reminds them of
the Night Huntress or Dark Hunter series'. But most agree it's unlike any
paranormal romance they've read. What do you think?
Buy the book
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Amazon sites – Italy, Germany, Japan, Canada, UK etc.)
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Coming soon to Apple
iBooks.
Print edition available
January 2014.
Impostors’
Kiss
Etopia Press
Impostors’ Kiss
Symphony of Light Book 0.5
Renea Mason
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Length: Short
Word Count: 7601
Page Count: 42
Price: 0.99
ISBN: 978-1-940223-62-9
Release Date: 11-15-2013
Symphony of Light Book 0.5
Renea Mason
Genre: Paranormal Erotic Romance
Length: Short
Word Count: 7601
Page Count: 42
Price: 0.99
ISBN: 978-1-940223-62-9
Release Date: 11-15-2013
One night of sexual pleasure could teach a lesson in love.
Cyril is weary from weeks of traveling the
Scottish moors, but his luck takes a turn when he rescues a battered and broken
child. To express his gratitude, the boy’s father offers Cyril a night of
carnal indulgence with his eldest daughter. Cyril graciously accepts, looking
forward to a night of sexual release to ease the loneliness of his travels.
But what the supernatural sex god and
deliverer of souls doesn’t expect is to be taught a lesson in love from the
young and beautiful Celestine.
In a night of passion, two lost spirits find
solace in an impostor’s kiss: one longing for a love that doesn’t yet exist,
the other drowning in pain and guilt over love lost. Neither is what they
seem…but what they learn will change them forever…
Less
than 50 words blurb
In a night of passion, two lost spirits find
solace in an impostor’s kiss: one longing for a love that doesn’t yet exist,
the other drowning in pain and guilt over love lost. Neither is what they
seem…but what they learn will change them forever…
Buy the book
Amazon.com (available at other
international Amazon sites – Canada, UK etc.)
BarnesandNoble.com
All
Romance eBooks
Coming soon to Apple iBooks, Kobo and other
international retailers.
Renea
Mason
Renea Mason writes steamy romances to help even out the
estrogen to testosterone imbalance caused by living in a house full of men.
When she isn’t putting pen to paper crafting sensual
stories filled with supernatural lovers, she spends time with her beyond-supportive
husband, two wonderful sons and three loving but needy cats.
Renea is a member of Romance
Writers of America, The Paranormal Romance Guild and The Fantasy, Futuristic and
Paranormal subchapter of the Romance Writers of America.
Thank you
Thank
you to all my current and future readers.
My best.
Follow Renea Mason
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A short excerpt
to whet your appetite.
Symphony of
Light and Winter - 18 + Mature content
My
amusement was interrupted by the absolute last thing I needed. Cyril. As if
being in a room with a bunch of men who wanted me but didn’t know why and hated
me for it wasn’t bad enough. In his black custom suit, he radiated power. He
pulled at his cuff links as he stopped to survey the room.
Instead
of trying to make my escape, I seized an opportunity to antagonize him. I was
really starting to enjoy tormenting him.
“Good
morning, Grim, it is nice of you to join us.”
“Grim.
Ha! She called him Grim.” Rhys clapped his hands as he laughed.
Cyril
didn’t acknowledge me or Rhys’s comment. He stood there for a very long time
and looked around the room at each man. Nobody met his gaze but me. Cyril’s
fists clenched at his side, jaw tight, and face furious.
“I
warned all of you,” he addressed the room. He didn’t growl but rather wrapped
his words with a subtle menace.
“Leave
them alone. You know this is entirely your fault. If you would just think
things through, you’d stop fucking everything up. I do have to say, of
all
your fuckups, this one is certainly the most impressive and entertaining from
my perspective.” I winked at Overton, who managed to glare at me even with his
head practically bowed. Why were they so fucking subservient to him?
The
next thing I knew, I was yanked from my seat and hoisted onto the counter.
Cyril grabbed my ass and pulled me to the edge, forced my legs open, and
stepped between them. He wrapped his arms around me and placed his head against
mine. It wasn’t his voice I heard but rather his mind. It felt like when I
talked to myself but somehow I knew it was him. Strange, he had tone and
inflection while communicating.
“You
need to stop showing off in front of my men. Yes, I fucked up, but do you
really want them to give in to their urges? Do you think you can fend them off?
I could toss you to them and see how far you get. Is that what you want? Maybe
I should let them have their way with you and pull up a chair to watch. I want
you to think about something before you start to defy me. I’m the only one who
can keep you safe. So it’s best you stop being a smart-ass for five seconds and
listen to me. I’m going to do something that will piss you off. I’m warning you
now it’s for your own good. You need to go along with it, no matter how angry
you are at me. Don’t fight me. I’ll try to fix this but until then, I need to
take a few precautions.”
I
wasn’t sure how to respond. If I thought something, could he hear me? Was this
two-way communication? I tried to push him away.
He
tightened his grip and his voice was in my head again.
“Stop
it! Let me remind you that I have a special connection with these men. Not only
can I read their thoughts but I can’t block them. I don’t have to try to
receive them. I know exactly what each person in this room, besides you of
course, is thinking right now.”
So
that’s what Overton meant when he said Cyril had ways of finding out.
“The
thoughts that assaulted me when I entered this room would make a porn star
blush; every one of their little fantasies featured you.”
I
giggled.
The
voice growled. “Don’t laugh. I won’t pretend I’m not jealous and angry. I
am. But if you knew the things they were thinking you’d better understand why I
need to do what I’m about to do. Do you see Dominic over there? Let’s just say
his tastes run a little dark. Ever spend considerable time naked with your
hands bound behind your back and a ball gag in your mouth? He’s picturing you
that way, this very instant.”
I
stiffened. That didn’t at all appeal to me.
“Thor
seems to think that you’d enjoy all of us taking you at the same time.”
And
he seemed so quiet and sweet.
“Sinclair
wants to shove his cock down your throat until you choke, all the while telling
you how it’s your entire fault. Rhys is thinking of how you would look sprawled
out on the hood of his new sports car, and Overton...”
“NO!”
I yelled.
It
seemed like a violation of privacy with Overton. Unlike the others, I
considered him a friend. I respected him too much.
“See,
like it or not, I’m going to tell you what he’s thinking since it pisses me off
the most. He thinks I’m going to fuck you right here on this counter, to lay my
claim. Once he gets past the fantasies of watching me fuck you, which he finds
exceptionally arousing...”
There
was a momentary pause to the voice and when he started again, he was angry.
“He
then knocks on your bedroom door after you run crying from the room. You invite
him in and he holds you in his arms while you cry about how I violated and
humiliated you. He wants to comfort you. He wants to be your savior. He wants
to save you from me. But he knows he can’t.”
I
felt the moment he left my head, because a sudden wave of dizziness came over
me.
With
no more words, he tilted his head and placed his lips against mine. I fought
the rigidity that tried to seize my body. I knew it was best to give in. I
wouldn’t fight him, but I knew every time he got close, I ran the risk of
losing myself. I was still way too angry to just give up.
His
lips danced with mine as he nestled himself between my open thighs.
Was
Overton right? How far would he take it? If it did go too far, would I be able
to stop him? He was such a fucking weakness for me I honestly didn’t think I
would.
He
was gentle and softly stroked my back as his tongue made love to my mouth. With
one hand he cupped my ass and pulled me flush against him, and with the other
he reached up, cupped my breast, and squeezed hard. His kiss grew frantic and I
became caught up in the sensation, forgot where I was, and that I had an
audience. He pushed me hard against his erection as he rubbed himself
rhythmically against my core. “You are mine. You belong to me. Now say it! Let
them all know who you belong to.”
Was
he kidding? I hesitated.
He
ran his fangs up the side of my neck in warning. He whispered in my ear, “Say
it. You need to say it. Let them hear it come from your lips.” His hand drifted
from my breast to the hem of my nightgown and pulled up one side so it rested
in the crease where my leg met my hip.
Somehow
the part of me that knew he was right surfaced, and the stubborn part of me
took a momentary vacation. If I was his, they wouldn’t dare defy him. It would
keep me safe.
His
fingers toyed with the edge of my panties before tugging the fabric to the side
to allow him to stroke my moist skin. He positioned himself at the juncture
between my legs, allowing my naked flesh to gather friction from his
cloth-covered cock.
“Yes,
Cyril, I’m yours.”
With
that, he struck. His fangs pierced my neck. The second of pain from his bite
passed and the pleasure grew, igniting my veins with liquid desire. One arm
tightened around me, pulling me harder
against
his cock. The other held my head while he sucked harder. Each pull he took was
linked to the sensitive place between my legs. He ground his hips into mine and
I moaned. The first wave of climax hit, tensing muscles and pushing my breath
out in a rush. This was new. He could do this just by biting me?
I
shook in his arms as he drank. Tremor after tremor seized me as he took his
fill. I was so caught up in the sensation I only vaguely noticed the moans and
growls that escaped from behind his teeth. With one final pull, and a thrust of
his hips, he finished with a crushing embrace as he removed his teeth from my
neck.
“Mine!”
he roared. He enveloped me in his arms and held me close. He dipped his head to
lick closed the small punctures on my throat.
I
threw my head back. My breathing slowed as the cloud that had invaded my head
receded.
Son
of a bitch! I just came in front of everyone while sitting on the kitchen
counter!
I
was afraid to open my eyes but when I did, he stared back.
He
nuzzled my cheek. “I’m sorry. I only want to protect you. If you’re mine, no
one will dare touch you. I needed to lay my claim but I didn’t want to take
anything you hadn’t already offered. Since you’ve replenished me before I
thought this might be more acceptable.”
I
was angrier with myself than him.
He
caressed my arms and back. When I mustered enough courage to look around, we
were the only
people
in the kitchen, with the exception of Overton, who stood in the doorway holding
the keys to my car.
Cyril
softly lifted my chin so that my eyes would meet his. “Again, I’m sorry. I know
I end up saying that far too often. But I need you to know, hearing those words
from your lips...ah, hell. I can’t even explain it. Perhaps someday, you’ll
utter them in truth.”
He
placed his forehead against mine, took a deep breath. “Fuck. Maybe Overton is
right. Maybe someone should save you from me.”
Symphony of Light and
Winter - PG Excerpt
“Your
eyes are so lovely; please don’t hide them from me. Don’t be afraid. I would
never hurt you.”
His
sincerity must have been contagious because the words slipped through my lips
without permission. “I know you’d never hurt me intentionally. It’s the
unintentional consequences I fear.”
He
brought his other hand up to cup my other cheek and, with my face firmly held
he said, “Linden, I’m not fool enough to think that the gods don’t
intentionally f**k with us.”
His
use of that word was unexpected. Always a gentleman, but always something more
carnal beneath the surface too. The inconsistency seemed natural.
“But
if that ever happens, I will spend forever trying to atone. Don’t turn away
from me.” He stared at me for a moment and when his face started to move toward
mine, I thought for sure he would kiss my lips, but instead he placed a
lingering kiss to my forehead and pulled me into a hug. If he felt anything for
me other than friendship, that was his moment to prove it. I had my answer. I
gave a forced smile and pulled away.
“Please,
play,” he said while trailing his hand over my back.
Facing
the piano, with my fingers lingering above the keys, I tried not to allow
disappointment to lace my words. “How did you know about the song?” My racing
heart slowed as I realized the kiss wouldn’t happen.
His
response was casual. “I have very keen hearing and you start to hum it every
time you walk away from me to return home. Where is the song from?”
Strange.
Maybe I was louder than I thought.
“I
don’t know where I learned it. I think I made it up, but it’s hard to know for
sure.”
“It’s
beautiful, please...” He motioned to the piano.
He
stood and I pressed one key to test to see if it was in tune. Pitch-perfect, of
course. I should have expected no less. I stretched to measure the distance to
the pedals. After my assessment, I began to play. As I pressed the keys, I
tried to forget he was even in the room, but that became impossible as he
provided subtle hints as to how I should adjust my posture. He pushed back on
my shoulders and lifted my elbows with a light touch. The adjustment made a
difference, and in time my composition transitioned to something more graceful.
He
placed his hands on my shoulders as he stood behind me and whispered, “Now
relax, the music is in control. Give in to it. Let it take you, command you,
while you find freedom in its control.”
His
finger made small massaging circles on my neck and shoulders, and the more he
touched me, the more at ease I became. I played better than I ever had.
He
ran his hands up and down my forearms, coaxing the notes from my fingers as he
whispered in my ear, “That’s it. You are much more relaxed. Music is energy,
Linden. With energy, you must first make
yourself
an attractive conduit. Energy does not like resistance. The less resistant you
are, the more it can take hold, become stronger—make you stronger. Allow it to
embody you, become one with you, and embrace its possession.” His breath teased
as his words sent waves of electricity through me.
I
added improvisational parts to the song I had never imagined. I played
sequences far beyond my skill level without effort. As I neared the end of the
song, the magical feeling broke down, and with it went my newfound ability. It
was as if I took a drug to make me a better musician and it had begun to wear
off, but I knew it wasn’t a drug. It was Cyril.
As
the last notes breathed their final whisper to the air, I heard him say, “Well
done! I bet you even surprised yourself.”
“How
did you do that?”
“I
didn’t do anything. I simply taught you to sit up and concentrate. Other than
that, it was all you. Music can’t possess the unwilling.”
I
shot him a suspicious glare. “All right...your turn.” I went to get up.
“No,
please stay. Let me see...I’ll play something you know. How about Beethoven’s Sonata
quasi una fantasia? You may know it as the Moonlight Sonata.”
I
nodded. He could have played Chopsticks and I would have been happy.
He
began with the solemn phrasing of the piece. Every languid note held so much
emotion. My fingers mindlessly stroked the side of his leg in the slow melodic
tempo of the first movement. The mournful
timbre
accented the sadness I felt knowing that every minute I stayed with him, it was
going to be much harder to accept I could never have him.
I
had only heard the first movement of the piece but as the somber melody
transitioned into a more energetic strain, I knew it would be an experience I
would never forget.
His
enthusiastic gestures, the bounce of his hair as he pounded out the rapid
notes, all added to the look of determination on his face. The notes were
saturated in passion, and violence defined him. I watched him with intense
concentration and wondered if he brought that same passion to his kisses, his
bed, and his love. It would be a miracle if one person could harness him.
When
he played the last note, his breathing was heavy and a thin film of
perspiration coated the skin of his brow and neck. He looked down at the floor
and then slowly into my eyes. That instant, the connection formed again. He reached
up and brushed the hair from my face and I did the same to him, draping his
thick, dark, sweat-moistened locks behind his ear.
“That
was magnificent. I’ve never...”
His
hand reached up to cup my face. His thumb caressed my lower lip as I spoke.
“Heard...or
seen...anything like you. I mean that.”
He
smiled and continued to outline my lip.
“Linden...”
he said with a breathy whisper, “there are so many things I want to show you,
teach you. I want you to make me a promise.”
I
answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
“The
way you are looking at me right now... Please, always look at me this way.
Stare into my eyes and see me for who I am and know that there is nothing more
than this. When the world calls things into question, you need not question me
because I will always be here for you. The comfort I find in your eyes is new
and frightening.”
I
found it difficult to believe anything frightened this man. He cupped my cheek
and with tenderness that mirrored his words, he caressed my face and trailed
his hand to rest on my chest just below my neck. I wrapped my hand around his
wrist, holding him to me.
He
leaned in, pinning our arms between us, and breathed, “Promise me.”
I
closed my eyes, reveling in his closeness, his scent, his heat. “OK.”
“Good.”
He
inhaled. “I will make you a promise in return. I cannot bring you into my world
as I would like, so I will not ask you to indulge me further. I should let you
go, but I’m sorry, I am far too selfish to break all ties. I do promise to
always be your friend, your mentor.”
Deep
down, hopeful he might love me and see me as a woman, I opened my eyes and
managed a smile filled with sadness and disappointment.
Protégé
was the title bestowed upon me, not girlfriend, lover, or wife. I looked away
from him to try to pull back the tears that escaped my eyes.
“Already
breaking your promise?”
I
looked up and he brushed my tears away with his thumb.
“I’m
not immune, Linden. I feel it too. I just need to be stronger than this, for
you.” He pulled me into his embrace.
His
arms were tight around me. He smiled but something sad lingered behind it.
“It’s getting late. I should get you home.”
Impostors’ Kiss – PG
Excerpt
“Who is she?”
This was not a question I expected. Even though
I was comfortable being nude, most humans were not. I saw in her mind what
horrors men had bestowed upon her. The massive erection I sported should have
frightened her, but with each quick glance I made in her direction, I saw she
stood firm and resolute, while twirling the blindfold between her fingers.
“Who?” Not the time to speak riddles.
“The woman for whom that kiss was intended.”
“Oh.” I brushed my hands through my hair.
The long, black strands fell one by one back into place. I sighed. “She’s my
love. My light. But she is out of reach.”
“I have a confession.”
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