Researching Black Magick, Werewolves and BDSM with Shara Lanel -- Blame It On the Night!

Hi everyone--

A surprise guest is joining me today. Shara Lanel, a fellow Loose Id author, has a great new release and i wanted to share it with you. Blame It On the Night is about one of your favorites-- werewolves!! So get busy reading about Shara's passions for research, writing and taxes.  LOL I lied about the taxes. Leave a comment and you can win one of Shara's back list. 

A Book Junkie Who Writes

Sometimes I think I write because there’s no other career where I can learn about as many crazy topics as I want. Black magick, Native Americans, law enforcement, poison, BDSM, and the history of North American wolves, to name a few. Depending on my mood, I can get into everything from Regency dress to ghost hunting to blunt force trauma—and I can say I’m working! I delve into some boring topics, too, like HTML, web building software, and promotion, but even figuring those things out can be fascinating.

I’m not sure which came first: research or book addiction, but I now have several shelves devoted to history, two to witchcraft, three to law enforcement (and serial killers, murder, and various government agencies). Another three shelves are devoted to UFOs, ESP, and mythology. Honestly, I could never read all of these books in my lifetime.

But now it’s time to gather all my receipts for the past year and give them to my hubby to do the taxes. That means, now’s the time he gets to see all the money I’ve spent on research books in 2011—eek! It’s good that they can be written off on taxes, because, yes, they are part of my job, but it’s so so bad that they have to be added up to a somewhat overlarge total. Plus I’ve already started on 2012’s supply of research books—luckily hubby won’t see those until next January!

So my most recent release, BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT, is a sequel, but it involved a lot of new research on topics like the history of gray wolves, bondage clubs, the original settlers of Western NY, and law enforcement jurisdictions. It may sound dry put that way, but all the research was anything but. Half of it never even made it into the book, but it fed into my ideas for the characters and the setting. (The first book, by the way, is BLAME IT ON THE MOON. Both can be found at www.Loose-Id.com.)

Now, before I leave you to the delicious excerpt, I want to let you know that I’m giving away an e-copy of one of my older books—all you need to do is leave a comment. Tell me about the books you love to read!

BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT Blurb:

Human/werewolf relations were forbidden. Guy’s father had made that clear years ago, but Guy had come very close to disobeying with naïve, teenage Olivia. He’d barely kept his body under control, as he’d held her during her first shocking orgasm. Years later, on edge with anger, grief, and the pull of the moon, Guy knows she’s the last person he needs near him.

Olivia is overcome with humiliation at the mere thought of seeing Guy again, though he’s starred in all of her fantasies over the past several years, but she refuses to leave his doorstep until he answers her questions about her missing sister and the dead body found on his property. Problem is, he’s ordering her to leave while blocking the door, telling her to get lost while pinning her between his hard body and the table, saying he doesn’t know what he’s doing while his every touch takes Olivia closer to heaven.

Sometimes forbidden love is worth the risk, but sometimes it leads to revenge and murder.

Buy Link: http://www.loose-id.com/Blame-it-on-the-Night.aspx

Blame It on the Night Excerpt:

Olivia clapped her hands together. “So are you going to offer me coffee or a beer or something?”

Guy hopped up, but not to head to the kitchen. He pointed to the window. “Don’t you want to get back to town before this gets really bad?”

Olivia stood and, for a moment, thought he could be the murderer, but that made no sense. She knew Guy, or thought she did. He was a good man. “Jeez, not very hospitable, are you?”

“It’s just better if you leave.” His face had been hard when she’d arrived, like there was some unknown emotion scarring it, but it had loosened up as they talked. Now it had returned to granite.

Well, if she’d had any hope of a little fling with Guy while she was up here, that quelled the idea. Not that she’d had the idea. She’d been over her crush for years. She needed to find Amy, fix her problem, and catch the next plane south. No time for personal entanglements. It was just that since she’d seen Guy at the lumberyard, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And her body…well, it seemed more alive than it had been in months. When she got back to Florida, she’d need to spend some time taking in the nightlife, put herself out there more so she could meet someone. It was her own fault that she spent so much time alone.

He’d opened the door and looked out, but now he was frowning. “Shit.”

“What?” She was still sock-footed, so he couldn’t push her out the door that fast. She followed his gaze and saw…gray, and she could only see that because of the powerful barn and house lights. “Shit.” It wasn’t that the snow had accumulated that much — probably an inch or two of fresh stuff — but the wind had picked up, blowing the devilish ice crystals everywhere.

“And you’re driving that low-to-the-ground rental car. Does it have winter tires on it, at least?” 

Normal New York conversation, but Guy’s eyes looked intense, like there was a more compelling reason for her to leave than the snow.

“Um, maybe?” she said to keep it light, but Guy’s knuckles were white from holding the door too tight, and his other hand shook as he brushed back his hair. A few stray flakes settled, then melted on his face, leaving tiny drops that Olivia wanted to lick off. Okay, where had that thought come from? She forced herself to look away. “Well, you’re right. I should head out. It’s not too deep yet, so I won’t have to worry about getting stuck in any drifts.”

Guy shut the heavy door against the cold and leaned back, shoving his hands in his pockets. His chest moved with his breath as if he’d just completed a long run. “I could drive you to town with the truck.” Not that he sounded happy with the idea.

Olivia shook her head. “No. Then I’ll be stuck without a car, and I want to keep looking for Amy.”

“I can pick you up in the morning to come get your car.”

“Once I get off your road, it won’t be that bad. Well plowed, I’m sure.” She reached for her still-damp sneakers and walked over to the half-log bench at the trestle table to put them on. She tried not to think about the deep ditches on either side of Guy’s unlit, narrow road.

“And you don’t even have boots.” His hand was out of his pocket and through his hair again, leaving odd little peaks that somehow made him look sexier.

“The car has a very nice heater.” She didn’t know why she was arguing with the truck idea. It was sensible. Maybe it was that he seemed so unwilling; she didn’t want to obligate him to come get her in the morning. Shoes on, she popped up, grabbed her coat, and walked to the door, which he still blocked with his large body. “Seriously, there’s not much on the ground if I leave now. No problem.”

He shook his head slowly, his jaw clamped, his eyes looking over her head instead of at her, his hands jammed in his pockets again. He certainly didn’t look like he was going to move.
Olivia took a step forward and reached for the door handle just below his elbow. She hoped ingrained manners would get him to move to the side. His hand flashed out and grabbed her forearm.

Jeez, maybe she should revisit the murderer idea.

“You have to leave.” His voice was like grinding stone.

She rolled her eyes as she looked down at his hand on her arm. “Then you have to move out of my way.”

“Leave, dammit.” But now he gripped her shoulders with both his hands to the point of pain, and something happened with his eyes.

Olivia blinked, and Guy’s eyes seemed normal again, but his thighs pressed against hers, making her stumble backward, toward the table. He didn’t loosen his grip, and Olivia abandoned her protest because of her sudden awareness of Guy’s muscular thighs, warm hands, and musky scent. Why was he saying one thing so passionately but doing the exact opposite, like his body was possessed? One minute his piercing gaze set her body on fire, the next he stared over her head as if he couldn’t look at her.

Find more of this excerpt at http://sharalanel.com/books/blame-it-on-the-night/excerpt-blame-it-on-the-night/

~Shara

Thank you so much for visiting, Shara. And everyone, don't forget to comment!  :  )