Publisher: Crimson Frost Books
Available again at
Pompeii lies complacent and decadent in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, the populace thriving on their depravity and their hunger for blood and Games. In the midst of the looming destruction, an ancient evil emerges, and claims not only a celebrated general of Rome, but the slave girl he has slowly grown to love and cherish. A girl who will follow him into hell itself?
While intrigues threaten to destroy him, and the corruption within his own family grows darker, Lucius confronts emotions he is both uncomfortable and unfamiliar with. Loyalty he does understand, and in the eyes of his prize slave and lover, Xina, he sees courage and strength to match his own. When Vesuvius begins to rain death on the city, Xina is confronted with hope for survival in the guise of evil…
Whom Gods Have Favored
By M. Nix on October 26, 2009
***** Five Stars
In the last days of Pompeii, Mt. Vesuvius stirs while high ranking men like Lucius gorge on power and pleasure. Lucius purchases Xina, a beautiful slave girl in the market place. He is consumed by passion for her from the start. Jealousy, passion, deceit and danger surround the handsome general and the sensuous young virgin that has become his obsession.
Darkly emotional, Whom Gods Have Favored is an exciting and well-crafted tale plush with historical details that yanked me in until the curtain closed. Denysé Bridger’s characters are complex, riveting in their vices and weaknesses. It’s fascinating the way she explores the more sinister aspects of the human psyche. Lucius and Xina are lovers and much more in the making. In reading this wondrous story I got into the “making”, their evolvement along the course of love. Ms. Bridger paints a somber and visually stunning portrait, hammering out line after line; a gifted wordsmith with a luminous imagination. If you haven’t encountered this author before, this is an excellent intro to her style and first rate talent.
Reviewed for Joyfully Reviewed
4 Kisses: As noted, the setting of Whom Gods Have Favored is the book’s strongest selling point. The research is evident, and Bridger’s characters are comfortable in their world. Lucius is immediately a strong, sensual character and his desire leaps off the page. Xina, on the other hand, is a little less well defined. She is introduced as a strong, take no prisoners heroine but seems to undergo a personality change when she enters Lucius’s household. I wanted her to show him that spark, because he seemed like a man who finds it both maddening and desirable, but instead Xina retreats into typical slave-girl mode almost immediately. While this is probably more realistic, it was a little disappointing. The attraction between them feels genuine, however, and though the introduction of the paranormal element is only peripherally connected to the main characters until the epilogue, it provided an interesting resolution to the story.
Reviewed by Melanie Hayden
4 Stars: Set during the time when Rome ruled the world, Whom Gods Have Favored gives us a glimpse of what life would have been like had we live in Pompeii before Mt. Vesuvius destroyed all. Much as I hated reading about the enslavement of women and the helplessness that ensued, it was definitely a part of life and Ms. Bridger did an excellent job of bringing that to view. I found myself loving Lucius, despite the fact that he was a male that was used to getting whatever female he wanted. I felt for Xina, in the fact that even though she was born into a brothel and subjected to naked men, she was an innocent in the true ways of the male, and she was just trying to survive life as a slave. There is a unique twist that takes the story in a whole new direction, and made for an interesting read. The story was a good love story that spanned the ages.
Just Erotic Romance Reviews
When Detective Faith Fitzpatrick is assigned as a liaison to the police force in Montreal, intent on helping the detectives there capture a killer who’s MO matches one she’s hunted at home in Los Angeles, she is ill-prepared for what awaits her in the beautiful jewel city of Canada’s French province. Mysteriously drawn to her temporary partner, Adrian Blackthorne, she rebels against his allure, only to be drawn into an even deeper darkness when Adrian’s past snares her – and she becomes a pawn in the deadly battle between the vampire Blackthorne and the powerful master he has long denied?
Julianna was seated at the bar again, her rage telegraphing itself to everyone within her orbit. She could feel the wide circles made to avoid her, and felt perverse satisfaction at the awareness that many of those present were decidedly afraid of her just now. She was almost spitting with indignation, and the wine in her hand no longer appeased her mood in any fashion.
“Damn you!” she hissed in an undertone.
“I hope you don’t mean me,” a new voice observed with mild amusement.
Startled much more than she should have been, Julianna swiveled the bar stool and smiled.
“Of course not, Adrian.”
Adrian surveyed her with a critical eye, and perched on the stool next to her. “Then who is in danger of damnation?” he asked with more curiosity than genuine interest. He had other concerns at the moment. But, winning Julianna’s help usually meant having to ease into the need for it, so, he played the friendly game of banter.
“No one you need worry over, I assure you, mon amour.” She looked back at him, quickly and accurately reading his mood. “You didn’t come here for conversation, Adrian. What is it you are trying to ask of me this time?”
“Have you seen anybody new here tonight?”
Suspicion flared within her, but it never reached her outer composure. “Many people drift in and out, Adrian. Am I expected to keep a record of them for you?”
“This one’s a cop,” Blackthorne told her, his voice hard. “An out of town cop named Faith Prentice. Shiller told her she might like this place.”
“Perhaps she would?” Julianna suggested with a tilt of her head. “Many do.”
“Was she here, Julianna?” Adrian demanded, quickly losing patience with the verbal fencing.
Something in the flat reply sparked suspicion in Adrian, and he turned her eyes back to meet his when she looked away.
“When was she here?”
She glared at him, but offered no answer.
“Julianna!” He grabbed her arm, not bothering to be gentle, nor to masque his considerable irritation. “Where is she?”
She jerked her arm free of his grasp and considered her answer. She quickly decided it would be much easier to get the young woman out of her club than risk Adrian?s wrath. There was a certain amount of enjoyment in the knowledge that this would deny Cartier of his prize, too. And, she added mentally, he would blame Adrian for that loss, not her.
“She is with Cartier.” She dropped the news with a toss of her head, and laughed as he rushed toward the back room?
Cartier recovered quickly from the blow that had sent him reeling away from Faith, and he turned glowing eyes to the one who’d dared to strike him. Adrian! He should have known. Even through the lust-enhanced hunger, Cartier was aware of Faith inching across the floor in an effort to escape. The scent of her fear was as tempting as her passion of minutes earlier. He’d find this one again, he promised himself, if she were fortunate enough to escape him after all this night.
“You are going to push me too far one day, Adrian,” Cartier warned, his eyes still blazing fury at the younger vampire.
“Maybe,” Adrian agreed, one eye watching Faith’s progress as he tried to fight down the urge to kill. “Tonight I intend to see that a friend remains safe.”
“This lovely creature is a friend of yours?” Cartier asked, once more taking firm control of both himself and the situation. “Your taste improves, Adrian.”
The mantle of ice had returned. Adrian knew there would be no further need to fight — not tonight, at any rate. Cartier was considering another time and another venue for their next meeting. Adrian had no illusions about it being a pleasant encounter. If anything, he sensed death in the other’s mind. True and lasting death. It was not the first time since Cartier’s return that Adrian wondered when the master vampire would demand his retribution – in full. So far, despite frequent confrontations, Cartier had not seriously attempted to destroy him. Yet, Adrian felt the time was nearing.
“Take her, Adrian. You’ve risked more than you know for her,” Cartier whispered softly. He watched the wariness grow within the former knight’s deep blue eyes then filter into Adrian’s expressive features. The ancient vampire laughed quietly as Blackthorne grabbed Faith’s arm and helped her to her feet. They were out of the room without another word being uttered?
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TRIAD OF POWER: First Quest
Available Now at:
As contented peace steeped the air around them, and they were able to breathe in near silence again, Sherindal contemplated her surroundings. On her knees, with the Prince of Ember still sheathed within her, she had never known a moment of more perfect serenity and completion. Her senses hummed with awareness of everything: the texture of the bed linen, cool silk, caressing her heated skin, the subtle patterns swirling amid the tapestries that hung on the stone walls of the bedchamber, even the heavy scent of candle wax added another layer of appreciation to her happiness.
“You really are magnificent, Sher,” Rienn whispered, his arms wrapped around her, drawing her close.
She leaned to one side, looped her arm around his neck and drew his mouth to hers in a kiss that was filled with gentle passion.
“I do love you, Rienn.”
Rienn nodded. His hands on her waist moved her. She shivered as he slipped free of her. “I’ll order a bath and some food,” he told her.
She grabbed his wrist and shook her head. “Later. I want you to hold me.”
Rienn stretched out and pulled her down to him, spooning her body to his when he pressed her back to his chest.
They’d only slept for minutes when the huge doors of the Prince’s chambers were flung open and the spacious room was invaded by numerous men, all bearing swords.
The word was a warning, and Sherindal slithered from the bed when he released her. She scooped up her weapon as she rolled, oblivious to her nakedness. She whirled to face the first rush of the attack. Somewhere through the early morning hours since they’d made love, Rienn had thought to retrieve his breeches, she noted from the corner of her eye. He had managed to gain his weapon, and they fought, back to back.
Sherindal hissed in fury and pain when the second of the men who engaged her slipped past her defense and inflicted a wound near her waist. It was a surface injury and she quickly rewarded him by slicing off his sword hand. Howling in agony, he toppled back, then fled as he recovered his footing several feet away from her.
Rienn had killed two men and was about to run through the third when Sherindal’s voice filled the room, and the blade she wielded, Huntor, rose with her song. The attackers froze momentarily, those two who remained, and she smiled when the weapon cut them down, then drifted back to her outstretched hand, coming to rest in her grasp with near peaceful ease.
“Your blood-thirsty weapon has been sated nicely this morning,” Rienn observed with a tense glance at the gleaming blade.
“Who are they?” she asked, her tone cold as she met his gaze.
“Why would you assume I know?” he retorted instantly. “This is hardly what I would consider an invigorating start to the day!”
“Really?” One eyebrow rose in emphasis of her sardonic tone. “It is one of the more interesting diversions you might have provided, Rienn.” Her laughter was faintly mocking, and not a little bit ironic.
Rienn’s handsome features suffused with rage and he reached for her, gripped her bare arm with fingers that dug into her flesh like steel bands.
“You can be an evil bitch,” he whispered darkly.
Sherindal smiled, and this time it was genuine. She nodded, kissed his chin, the closest she could get to his mouth from her disadvantaged height, then she gasped as a fiery lance reminded her of the slash near her left hip.
“Enough, Rienn,” she said.
He released her, scooped her into his arms, and placed her in the center of the feathered mattress of his bed. He looked closely at the injury, yanked the bell pull, and then went to the heavy wardrobe at the far end of the chamber.
His guards were rushing along the corridor when he returned to the bed and helped Sherindal into one of his linen shirts. She bit her bottom lip against another stab of pain and laughed in macabre amusement when she spotted the duo who entered the room.
“They look rested enough, my love,” she muttered.
Rienn glared at her, then turned an even fiercer visage to the men who should have prevented the assault in his private rooms.
“Get them out of here, then report to Radisan.”
“Radisan will no doubt beat the life out of them, Rienn,” she remarked. “Your brother is overzealous when it comes to punishment. He enjoys watching other people writhe, especially when he is the orchestrator of their anguish.”
“Would you rather I reward them for their lapse?” he snapped. “We could have been killed, Sher!”
“Highly unlikely. Get me my own clothes,” she requested. “I want to dress.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he warned from his position near the door. As the two guards dragged the last of the fallen men into the hall, he slammed the door into place and speared his lover with a look that frequently froze men in their tracks. Sherindal rose from the bed to retrieve her belongings.
She sighed and began to apply salve from the small medicine kit she carried. When the wound was smeared with the peach-colored cream, she wrapped clean linen around her hips, then continued to dress. Dark brown trousers, forest green tunic, black boots and vest, and lastly the sword, in a sheath that she wore at her back, the glittering hilt visible between her shoulders when she faced the Prince again.
“Rienn,” she said gently. “I would not leave you if it wasn’t necessary. This is something I must do. I have no choice!”
Rienn’s unusual eyes flared with anger, and he strode toward her, stopping when her head moved so that she might hold his look. He towered over her, and often used that height to keep her off balance when they were this close. She had told him that he was a drug she was addicted to, and the sensuality of their passion had grown with their aging. She would have made a perfect queen, but his father had long ago threatened Rienn with banishment if he took Sherindal as his wife. The old man had said on many occasions he would hold the throne forever from Rienn if he dared to believe a witch would be an appropriate queen for Ember. Sherindal seemed more than happy to be his consort, with none of the advantages that position could have offered.
Ironically, by his own decree, Rienn’s father had also insured he’d never have the grandchildren he desired, for Rienn would not betray his love for Sherindal by accepting another woman in his bed. The King believed that to be one more proof of Sher’s sorcery, her hold on the oldest son of Ember’s Royal House. Love was an emotion the old man mocked and disdained, and one he had never understood. Rienn’s mother had died many years earlier, and they had been closer than many sons and mothers. They had been friends and confidants. The Queen had approved completely of Rienn’s choice of mate.
“I have no choice.”
Available Now at:
“Live the Romance, Become the Fantasy…”
** Predators & Editors Best Author 2012 **
Then love began, she took my hand, and said let’s dance…
“Live the Romance, Become the Fantasy…”
** Predators & Editors Best Author 2012 – 2013 **
ocean kissed sands wink diamonds into the night
the whisper of waves caresses nerves taut with panic
the sea-foam surf is a balm to troubled spirits
and the abyss of down-soft waters beckons as a lover’s embrace
out there, somewhere, is a ship
using stars to guide a course to infinity
eternity, too, has a path to follow
and a destiny to fulfill
standing on the rooftop of a once-thriving inn
I wonder at the fate that pulls me ever closer to death
isolation has become a way of life, my existence
against all my efforts to turn away from the void before me
the sea calls to me, pulls at my soul with seductive purpose
I hear voices carried on the misted winds
promises that I can’t quite define
but which haunt my heart and inflict greater agonies
I turn away to pursue the sandman of my dreams
despite the knowledge that there will be no respite there
no escape from transient demons and specters
no shelter in the arms of Morpheus
eyes close and breaths lengthen and deepen
then he comes to me, the devil who torments my being
with sensuous murmurs and erotic promises
he shows me what my life is without, what I deny within myself
the dream begins…..
the gentle sway of the ship is the rhythm of passion and sex
the lap of waves the stroke of a lover’s tongue over a swell of quivering flesh
the surge of the tide is his possession of my eager body
the fall befits our writhing ascent into heaven
who are you? I ask in mystified wonder
am I afraid of his answer, or anticipating it?
he laughs, a hearty, faintly mocking reverberation of humor
and my blood runs cold, then hot with rage
he is magnificent, this proud pirate who steals
with the exquisite skill of a thieving seducer claiming his virgin prize
dark hair streams and smoky eyes gleam with anticipation
and this is what I have been born to desire?
lover…. friend…. enemy…. destiny….
his hands have taught me love and pain
his heart has scarred me with hatred and unbearable pleasure
mentor…. destroyer…. confidant…. father….
you drove me to his arms, intent on betrayal
and in the end it was I who was betrayed, by myself
he touched me, and I was whole in his hands,
balanced on the edge of discovery and despair
I went willingly to his bed and his heart
asked desperately to remain prisoner to his destiny
he kissed me, a soft caress that vowed so much more would follow
and I stood before him, naked in all ways, desiring
things I could not yet name, but knew within me
and he held me with his gaze, searching for deceit, finding only trust
his hands stripped me of everything, while giving everything back
his mouth, soft, wet, suckling at my breast, gave me the taste of euphoria
hot, rigid velvet sheathed within my clutching body tortured me with ecstasy
and his possession defined my being and made me what I am
sorceress…. companion…. seer…. hope….
I am Mahjrah’s mate, and his life is mine, as mine is his
though we both have often wished it were not so
and I have betrayed my beloved captain…..
comrade…. strength…. protector…. deception….
what we did was wrong, yet it, too, was predestined in so many ways
Mahjrah made you my champion, and that story is as old as time itself
and now I stand before him again, waiting and afraid
trembling with need and terror, and reawakened love
yes, I love you, Mahjrah, always and only you
and somewhere inside you, I feel the poison of my treachery
you are uncertain, even as you stand solid and ever strong
the serpent of doubt and suspicion has bitten deep
that venom mingles with the heart’s blood of our bond
and I do not know which will emerge as the stronger power
still, you have taken me again, in passion and welcome
my body has been reclaimed, even as my spirit hides in shame
try as I may, I cannot forget the rapture that you gave me
and all I am able to offer you now is the frightened shell I have become
you deserve far better, you have asked for little,
given everything without question or price
until now, when a challenge far greater than others removes our choices
now you charge me with the task of finding our home
I have always thought my home was in your eyes
but the romanticism of that whimsy is a joke in the face of this harsh reality
you demand a gateway to another life
and I must find a way to obey this command
close enough to touch, to feel….
the parallel of this prison in which we have been trapped…..
Part Two: a short scene…
“Live the Romance, Become the Fantasy…”
** Best-Selling Author of 2011 **
Fantasy Pages (general): http://fantasy-pages.blogspot.com
Bound By Passion (adult content): http://boundpassion.blogspot.com
Heart of Stone
By: Denyse Bridger | Other books by Denyse Bridger
Word Count: 17600
Available in: Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi), Adobe Acrobat
An excerpt from the book
Robin smiled, kissed him lightly, then eased back to gaze down at him. She tilted her head to one side, tugged at the waist of her T-shirt, and slowly eased it away from her skin and over her head to be tossed aside.
Rand’s hands quickly covered her bared breasts, strong fingers caressing firm flesh before his thumbs began brushing tantalizing circles around her nipples, making the already hard tips rigid with excitement.
Robin pressed herself tighter to him, her hips moving in seductive, rhythmic insistence while she leaned down and offered her breasts to his mouth. When his teeth closed over one aching nipple she moaned, lost in the well-known madness of Rand’s touch. The world spun as Rand’s arms encircled her waist and he changed their positions. Her legs parted to accommodate his weight and he thrust into her, the material of his pants straining against his erection. She arched in pleasure, her spine curling as he teased first one nipple then the other.
She raised her hips, pleading wordlessly, as her hands ran over the broad expanse of his back, smoothing tense muscles. She reached between them, her fingers tracing the ridge of his arousal, then moving lower, pressing with urgent abandon, inciting soft groans from him. She yanked at the snap on his pants, and he rolled away with a gasp.
Robin rose to her knees and shed her shorts, laughing when his eyebrow rose in faint surprise to see there was nothing beneath them. He’d left his T-shirt and boots near the edge of the water before he’d waded into the pool. All that remained were his dark pants and briefs, and she took them down the long length of his legs when he lifted his hips to give her the freedom to finish undressing him.
Robin’s gaze stroked every inch of him as she stared, and Rand’s blazing eyes held hers for indeterminate moments when she met his look directly. She moved again, and heard Rand’s breath leave him in a hiss of startled pleasure when her mouth closed over him with sudden, fierce pressure. His fingers twisted in the waves of her hair and he held her gently, slowing her sucking rhythm. At last, he eased her away and pulled her up to meet his kiss.
She drew back with a gasp, smiled at him, then sat up, tossing her hair over her shoulders. She guided him into her eager body. When sensation exploded through her, she bit her bottom lip and her back arched. Rand’s hands at her waist held her as he pushed deeper into her, and his name was a moan of elated pleasure that spilled from her lips without conscious awareness. For several moments she was motionless, enjoying the spasms of bliss that rushed through her veins.
When she finally began the slow, rocking rhythm that would sate their lust, Rand held her in place, hips rising to meet her with each thrust. Long minutes later, Robin cried out, shaking against him, her breathing strained and shallow. The convulsing muscles of her body pushed him over the edge and into his own shuddering climax.
When her breath returned, Robin leaned down to kiss him.
** Preditors & Editors Best Author 2012-2013 **