Feeling like a thief, I slipped inside and would have been carried away by the multitude of books filling the massive shelves if I had not seen the painting first. The impact of the image literally stole my breath, and I stepped back from the life-sized portrait hanging above the mantel of a massive stone hearth.

His green eyes, so vibrantly realistic, stared directly at me from beneath dark brows over a chiseled nose and roughly hewn jaw. He wore a black suit, white ruffled shirt, and had a black cape flung over one shoulder. In one black-gloved hand he held a silver walking stick with what I thought was a fanged snake on its tip. But as I moved closer, I saw it was a dragon that curled up the cane. A force greater than my own will held me captive before him. Had he needed the night to hide his sins?

It was the first portrait I’d seen done of someone in the moonlight. Dark shadows surrounded him on all sides. He held his free hand fisted at his side, expressing anger or…pain? A haunting moon and an eerie black sky sharpened the edge of darkness to his character. Even so, the sensual charisma emanating from him would have brought a vibrant warmth to his picture had it not been for the cynical, almost cold smile barely curving his full lips.

“He canna go out into the daylight, they say. It’s whispered that he is a vampire.”

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.

Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?
Bon appetit!

The post Sean Killdaren as described by Cassie Andrews appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

My voice caught in my throat as I was about to comment that Gemini’s nose was already irrevocably red, even though it wasn’t. The sound of horse’s hooves on the shore along with the act of everyone around me turning and gasping with awe and fear told me that he had arrived to the docks. Lord Alexander Killdaren.

Though the mystery surrounding Mary’s death had been solved, the murder of Lady Helen Kennedy eight years ago had not been. Since Sean Killdaren and Lord Alexander Killdaren were the last ones to see her alive and a witness had seen one of them leaving the scene of the murder, a dark cloud of suspicion hung over their lives. To this day the villagers gave the Killdaren twins a wide berth. Neither Cassie nor I believed the rumors. She was sure Sean was innocent and I was convinced Lord Alexander was, too.

Lord Alexander leapt from the saddle and strode down the dock, a commanding figure to be reckoned with. Shockingly dressed in only snug black pants, a loose white shirt, and knee-high boots, he could have easily been a swashbuckling pirate from a reckless age. His dark hair framed his strong features, and lay wildly windblown well over the collar of his shirt. His thick muscles strained against his clothes as he walked. His charismatic aura jarred the world around him like a stiff wind from the dark sea and blasted me as he neared.

He must have felt my regard, for he suddenly gazed right at me. I stared directly at him as if possessed by a need and will greater than any rule of propriety I’d ever leaned. “Lord Alexander is great indeed,” I murmured.

“What?” Cassie asked, following my gaze with hers. She gasped and grabbed my hand. I heard the “Sean” that rang through her mind before her pulse steadied and she whispered, “Lord Alexander.” All of that pent up worry I’d felt in her earlier escaped in his name.

As we stared at him, he nodded his head politely then passed by without offering a cordial greeting before going to the ship where I’d seen the wild horse being gentled.

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.
Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?
Bon appetit!

The post Alexander Killdaren as described by Andromeda Andrews appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

I paused to take in the sweet smell of jasmine mingled with the mouthwatering aroma of Mama Lousia’s creamy red beans, andouille, and fresh bread. Mama Louisa’s cooking could warm the soul of a devil.

“Half light, half shade, She stood, a sight to make an old man young.”

“Mon Dieu!” Startled, I spun around to see who had spoken. A tall man stood beneath the shadows of a twisted live oak just behind me. The deep voice was unfamiliar, cultured, and sensual. I backed away several steps, chastising myself for being so lost in my thoughts that I’d been unaware of his presence.

He stepped into the fading light. Forgive me for frightening you. But those words were made for you.”

“Monsieur, the evening shadows have misled you. There is no comparison between me and Lord Tennyson’s extraordinary verse,” I replied, drawing back another step, this time from his dark appeal. His hair cut a rakish line across his brow, with a few errant strands that beckoned for order. I clenched my hand and moved my gaze on, absorbing the sensual curve of his mouth, the determined angle of his jaw, and the raw power in the breadth of his shoulders. He held up his hands as if to show me he was unarmed, and I thought that were he a footpad, he’d need no weapon. His voice could lure gold from the fist of a miser.”

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.

Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?

Bon appetit!

The post Stephen Trevelyan as described by Juliet Boucheron appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.

Lightning briefly illuminated the strong curve of his stubble-rough jaw, devilish smile, and raven’s wing hair whipping in the wind. Damn, the man had no right to look so sexy in the middle of hell. He stripped off his black leather jacket, pushed her umbrella aside, and leaned in close.

“You bait a nice hook, sugar.”

“You. You Peeping Tom!” Her search for something sophisticated and deadly to say fizzled as ridiculous.

“Careful. You’re giving me ideas for a new profession.”

She didn’t have a chance to reply before his leather jacket descended over her head and his strong arm encircled her.

“Tell me how sorry I am later, sugar.” He plucked the inverted umbrella from her, popped it back right, and held it before them as he propelled them toward the back door of the yacht club, not the least daunted by the storm’s fury. But then, Nan didn’t think much got past Jackson’s thick wall. She gritted her teeth, irritated. Both the timing of Jackson’s appearance and the man were too welcome for her peace of mind.

She tingled from the heat of his arm about her, the feel of his lean, hard body next to her, and the tangy scent of musk and leather enveloping her.

“Here we go.” He hustled her into a lit hallway.

Anxious to rid herself of his scent, she slid off his coat. Cool air assaulted, making her too aware of the heat from his body behind her, touching her, like he’d said on the phone.

Can’t you feel me? I’m right up against you. Feel the heat? My hands on you… my mouth.

She shivered. The creamy watered silk walls, crown molding, and plush carpet contrasted sharply with her soggy, bedraggled state and she turned to face him, feeling like a swamp rat. He’d moved closer and her chest landed smack up against his hot, very male one.

“Where are we?” Drawing back, she teetered, dropping his coat.

“Backstage of the ballroom and just where we need to be.” He grinned and settled his hands on her hips. When he spoke, his deep voice rumbled right to her core and set off a series of delicious quakes. “It’s been a while, sugar. A long while. You hung up too soon last week. We didn’t get to the good part.”

Nan tried to stop the quakes of desire from spreading by clenching her stomach muscles. It didn’t help. Jackson let his shoulders rest on the door behind him and drew her between his jeans-clad, booted legs. She didn’t have to look to know how his jeans fit or how his leather boots gleamed. Not a thing about his dark Irish looks and southern bad boy manners had changed.

“Yes, a long while,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. A droplet of water ran down her cheek, dripped onto her breastbone, and slithered between her breasts. Jackson’s gaze followed its path, heated, then lingered. Nan looked down. Her halter-top gown lay plastered to her body like skin, the wet silk clearly defining the rise of her breasts and nipples. Something about her dress, besides the wet, was off, but the hot missiles firing at her erogenous zones scrambled her brain cells and she couldn’t figure it out.

She slammed her eyes shut. Surely, this had to be another one of her fantasies. Any minute she would wake up and find herself alone, writing in her secret black book.

“Way too long,” he growled, sliding his hands from her hips to cup the fullness of her bottom. Nan opened her eyes to the pure sexual intensity in his. Nope, not a fantasy. He was as potent, and as real as it got. He wanted her and she wanted him. Not a problem.

The problem was what came after the bedroom. She wasn’t about to get involved with a man going nowhere. He lived his life by whim; she lived hers by a plan. She had goals; she was going somewhere in life and he wasn’t budging from the comfortable hole he’d dug.

Any second he would kiss her. Desire sizzled up her spine and overrode rational thought. One more kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Now that you have read the description let’s have a little fun with my fictional heroes. The lucky ladies who have read the stories might have a bit of an advantage because they have a good idea what my heroes look like…everywhere. For those who haven’t read the stories, don’t worry, just imagine what the rest of my hero looks like.

Here’s the challenge. You’ve just inherited your long lost relative’s business in Hollywood. This book is being made into a movie. Below are the actors you have to choose from to be the hero of this story. Which one would you choose and why?
Bon appetit!

The post Jackson Weldon as described by Nan Miller appeared first on USA Today Bestselling Author Jennifer St. Giles.