Available in December 2007
    of 2006 from Lovespell





    		Divine Night
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    Alexandre Dumas had achieved immortality-- and not through his writing. He is one of The Dark Man's creations. With the help of a lovely and mysterious eco-terrorist called The Spider, Alex is prepared to take on the evil wizard, Saint Germain.


    Excerpt

    "Come on-- tell! Why'd you break up? Was Beau a perv or something?"

    Ashley and Harmony had booked themselves into the Hotel Ybarra because it was near Quatros Cienegas, a nature reserve that had sounded charming in the brochure put out by Ashley's new environmental tour-guide friend, but which was proving to be rather less that the five-star-or even three-star-- experience she'd been hoping for. Harmony saw this as a salutary lesson on the evils of letting others plan her vacations. Yeah, vacation. That sounded better than retreat. Ashley seemed to believe that Harmony was there to write a story for the newsletter. Harmony didn't correct this impression. Misdirection had become a way of life for her. The organization she worked for was full of ardent, dedicated environmentalists, but the front office that put out the newsletter and engaged in other innocuous public activities was a petri-dish for gossip. Gossip could get her in a lot of legal trouble.

    "He's not a pervert. Far from it. He's actually a corporate-climber complete with hammer, ax and pitons-- and a pile of colleagues' metaphorical bodies he's scrambled over to reach the top. Beau knows exactly how to keep his steal-toes designer boots on the neck of the common man," Harmony Nix answered, surrendering to Ashley's pestering and feeling free to speak her mind since she was now hundreds of miles away from Beaumont Davidson and the miasma he had cast over her psyche. The tequila shooters were helping her sense of well-being too. However, far from being therapeutic and restoring her tranquility, the more she talked about Beau the more indignant she became. "You know the type, bursting with the conviction that they are always right and therefore the ends can justify any means-- and a brain shrink-wrapped in macho claptrap that prevents any new ideas from getting in. Bad enough to know he's like that on the job, but it didn't end there. For him, the women's movement never happened. He was expecting me to retire to a little cottage with a picket fence where he planned on keeping me impregnated until I had produced enough Beau juniors to field a hockey team." And she had almost fallen for it.

    Even as she spoke, half of her mind was on the dark man in the corner. Harmony hadn't noticed him at first because he was just one more shadow in a room full of murky places that she didn't want to peer into. But as she had started speaking he had leaned forward as though to better hear her conversation, and the candlelight had painted his fascinating face with wavering light.

    Of course, he couldn't hear her from where he was sitting. The room was too loud. But she liked looking at him anyway and pretending that he was listening to her. This man was different. He almost had bedrooms eyes-- those sleepy lids that promised that any woman who went to bed with him would end up likewise exhausted. Harmony didn't buy it though. No, the more she looked at him, nursing a Dos Equis with a bit of lime, the more certain she became that this wasn't a man looking for a quickie vacation fling with the first available blonde. Those dark, dark iris-- or perhaps they were his pupils, dilated by shadows or drugs of some sort-- were far too intent on his surroundings. This man might wear a slight, seductive smile as he looked over at the bar, but he had more than sexual fun and games on his mind. She was a bit psychic that way.

    That only made him more intriguing.

    And maybe dangerous. Stupid, stupid, to be interested in someone like this, but that had always been her favorite flavor of man.

    Last Modified 7/11/2006 Created and Maintained by IIB Software