Today we bring you an excerpt from the latest in Mary Hughes’ Biting Love series.   If you’d like to enter the drawing for a copy of Biting Oz,  please comment below with your  email addy.

Real vampires do musicals.

Gunter Marie “Junior” Stieg is stuck selling sausage for her folks in small-town Meiers Corners. Until one day she’s offered a way out—the chance to play pit orchestra for a musical headed for Broadway: Oz, Wonderful Oz.

But someone is threatening the show’s young star. To save the production, Junior must join forces with the star’s dark, secretive bodyguard, whose sapphire eyes and lyrical Welsh accent thrill her. And whose hard, muscular body sets fire to her passions.

Fierce as a warrior, enigmatic as a druid, Glynn Rhys-Jenkins has searched eight hundred years for a home. Junior’s get-out-of-Dodge attitude burns him, but everything else about her inflames him, from her petite body and sharp mind to what she can do with her hip-length braid.

Then a sensuous, insidious evil threatens not only the show, but the very foundations of Meiers Corners. To fight it, Junior and Glynn must face the truth about themselves—and the true meaning of love and home.

Warning: Cue the music, click your heels together, make a wish and get ready for one steamy vampire romance. Contains biting, multiple climaxes, embarrassing innuendos, ka-click/ka-ching violence, sausage wars and—shudder—pistachio fluff.

==========

Enjoy the following excerpt from Biting Oz:

I had just pulled black jeans and a black T-shirt over a lacy powder-blue thong and demi-bra (they were next in the underwear drawer—really) and was brushing my teeth when a knock came at the attic door.

“That’s weird.” No one ever knocked. Because of the setup, my parents were the only ones who had access to the attic, and they took unholy delight in bursting in on me unannounced. Especially (to my chagrin) when I was “going through puberty”, if you know what I mean. Curious, I spat and rinsed and headed for the far door. It took me across my “hallway”.

Picture a capital T. Turn it sideways and set it on our house, the top bar along Jefferson in the south. My room—bedroom and tiny bath—was at the intersection, sitting like a tree fort in the branches of the attic, the rest being bare rafters and blown insulation.

The stairwell door was at the foot of the T. A set of two-by-fours laid over the joists was my hall. I traveled it by instinct, ignoring the fact that one wrong step would put me through my parents’ ceiling. If I ever got out of here, I’d be a shoo-in for a high wire act.

I hurried to the door and opened it. Swallowed my tongue.

Filling the doorway and then some was Glynn, hands thrust in his black leather jacket pockets.

His jaw, freshly shaved, was more honed than I remembered, his skin almost dewy. His lips… I groaned. The upper begged for a nibble, the lower demanded a full tongue-swipe. Those edible lips parted, revealing strong white teeth. The tip of his tongue peeked through.

A storm of lust broke in my belly, drenched my thong.

Glynn’s nostrils flared, elegant yet animal. His eyes—smack me with a kielbasa, his eyes burned deep, hot purple.

“H…how’d you get in?” I croaked. More thong-dousing—apparently parts of me wanted to know how he’d “get in” too.

“Through the store. Your teenager wasn’t very attentive. I found my way into the house.”

“You penetrated the family abode?” Penetrated. Just club me. “Um, why have you come?” Come. “Here, I mean. Why have you come here…to the store? Yes, that’s what I meant.” Shut up, Junior.

I heard a soft grunt, a stifled groan. Him or me, I didn’t know.

“I’ve come to pick you up.” His mouth barely moved, lips stiff. “We’ve Emerson’s limo.” He shifted his hands from his jacket to jam them into his jeans pockets.

“Limo?” My eyes automatically latched on to his hands, which framed a rising zipper. “You’re offering me a fast ride…?” Oh, thank you, Dr. Freud. I cleared my throat and pretended I wasn’t an ass. “You do know the PAC is only a block from here?”

“It’s on our way. I didn’t like the thought of you toting those heavy instruments when I could do something about it.”

“That was nice.” Trapped in a limo with Big Dark and Dangerous, porn flick fantasy number five. Maybe I should have refused, but lugging the headless-corpse sax was a pain. Besides, how much trouble could we get into in just one block? “Give me a sec to pack up.” I started to close the attic door. Manners took over. “Why don’t you come back? Be careful to stay on the walkway.” I started for my room.

No footsteps clunked behind me. I took a couple more steps but still heard nothing, so I twisted around to see if he was there.

I managed to twist myself off-balance. I tried to catch myself, but my foot hit the edge of the narrow walkway, skidded off. No nearby walls or even studs to grab, so I fell.

With incredible speed and grace, Glynn snared me just before I put a Junior-size hole through my parents’ ceiling. I was ridiculously grateful—until I realized he’d caught me around the breasts.

And that one big, hot hand was gently squeezing.

I sucked in a breath. Jagged darts of lust fired from that rhythmically squeezing hand and arrowed down my belly to detonate in my groin.

“Ah, Junior. You’re so soft.” Glynn’s breath heated my hair. “So lovely.” He rolled me around until I was facing him. His arms wrapped me, bands of hard muscle. “I didn’t sleep at all last night, thinking about you. Your scent, your feel. Your taste.”

I stared up at him, wondering if I had really fallen through the ceiling gypsum and was lying unconscious on my folks’ kitchen floor. This gorgeous stranger had been thinking about me all night? My brain tried to make sense of it… He dropped his head and kissed me.

His mouth took me slowly. Not leisurely slow but purposefully slow, thoroughly, his lips circling gently. Like we lay entwined on a summer beach, cool sand below, warm sun above, with nothing to do but each other. And he was going to do me oh, so right.

My eyelids drifted shut, my palms slid onto his chest. His hard, thick pecs were warm slabs of brick.

He dipped in, tongue licking lightly at my mouth. My lips parted, my breath mingled with his and I tasted masculine fire. I opened more eagerly for him—but he backed off, tonguing the corners of my mouth, tracing the outline of my lips. Rubbing lightly yet thoroughly. Sweetly, as if we had lifetimes to explore each other.

Like a kiss of commitment.

I pulled back. “No involvement” was more than an aim, it was a mantra. Duty to my parents, followed by my dreams. Commitment didn’t figure in except as a stumbling block to avoid.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”

I was afraid, not that he’d hurt me physically, but that he’d take over my future.

He didn’t know that and only held me more firmly. Securely. Despite my doubts, I felt safe in his warm, strong arms.

Until he bent and kissed the stuffing out of me, tongue swirling masterfully, pure, hot sensation. I squeaked but he distracted me by rubbing his muscled chest into my palms. My fingers tightened compulsively. The man’s pecs were sauna rocks set to steaming. My fear melted away, leaving only need.

I stretched up, kissed him back.

He gripped me tighter, practically fusing me with his burning body, and rocked his pelvis into me. His hips were the blacksmith’s hammer and mine the anvil, sparking red-hot lust between. And oh, what a fine, large sword was developing.

I clutched his jacket, pulled him toward my room. We’d fall into a tangled heap on my bed. I’d be eager and open and suck him in for some mind-blowing sex.

As if he read my mind, Glynn purred, “Ah, Junior. This is what filled my dreams last night. You, all warm and wet and ready for me. It seems I have been waiting a lifetime to make love to you.”

Okay, that finally broke through the red haze of my mind.

Sex, sure, in small doses. But making love? Lovemaking led to neglect of duty, which led to regret. To rainbow dreams shattered. I had been a dutiful daughter for five years, and I was just on the verge of having it all, setting my parents up while fulfilling my dreams. I was not getting distracted now.

Biting Oz

Biting Love, Book 5

© 2012 Mary Hughes