Cougar's Courage--Guest Teresa Noelle Roberts!

Teresa Noelle Roberts is a fellow Samhain author who writes exciting red-hot paranormal romances. When I heard Cougar's Courage had "snarky spirit guides" I hoped she'd share a bit with us. Great news--she's sent not one but two excerpts! The first is today's yummy "technically dressed" kiss :). The second will be posted December 10. Please welcome Teresa!

Thanks for letting me visit your blog. I’m here to celebrate the release of my paranormal erotic romance Cougar’s Courage, the next installment of the Duals and Donovans: the Different series. (It’s book 3, though there are four Duals and Donovans titles out counting this one. Fox’s Folly takes place several years before the numbered books in the series. Don’t worry, it confuses me too!) Duals are shapeshifters, persecuted in the US for their abilities. Donovans are a powerful witch clan. But while Donovans are important secondary characters in this book, the book focuses on another flavor of magic-users: shamans. And unlike witches, shamans don’t have to be human…

Logic says wait. Their bodies scream go. And their spirit guides are playing dirty.

Duals and Donovans: The Different, Book 3

Toronto cop Cara Many-Winters Mackenzie is still reeling from her fiancé’s murder when her orderly life takes a turn toward the weird, complete with voices in her head and phantom bleeding wounds.

This violent awakening is the rise of her Different gift—a chaotic, Bugs-Bunny-on-crack magic that she must learn to control before it destroys her. There’s only one place to get help: her mother’s ancestral village, and a mentor who seems to have stepped straight out of the smoke of her erotic dreams.

Cougar Dual Jack Long-Claw reluctantly agrees to take Cara under his wing, though he’d much rather take the beautiful city girl into his bed. As he guides her through a crash course in shamanic magic, sparks fly—some sexy, some snarky. But when an ancient enemy attacks the village, they must work together to hone a magical weapon against certain destruction.

Common sense tells them it’s a terrible time to fall in love. Their spirit guides have other ideas. And shamans who don’t listen to their spirit guides are dead shamans…

Warning: Hot shape-shifting feline hero. Strong but shell-shocked heroine. Snarky, meddling spirit guides. And lots and lots of sex: angry sex, crazy sex, magical sex, and just plain sexy sex.

This sexy bit falls shortly after Jack, Cara, and another shapeshifting shaman fought off mysterious creatures that turned out to be loups-garous: sorcerers possessing wolves through a particularly nasty form of magic. Jack and Cara are both in shock.

Jack had dropped the blanket when he bolted for the door. Technically, he was dressed—at least, all the most interesting bits were covered—but the shredded jeans and exploded shirt exposed a lot of velvety bronze skin and sculpted muscle.

Cara tried to look away.

He gently but firmly pushed her face back toward him. “If you want to stare, stare. Lesson number two: denying harmless impulses makes good chaos turn bad.”

“The trick is figuring out which impulses are harmless.”

His hand was burning her face. She’d have a print of Jack’s hand on her jaw before long, from the heat of his touch.

She moved his hand away with her own, the one where she still wore her engagement ring. She tried to focus on the ring. Phil had been dead less than six months. Her body might be ready to jump into something, but it was too soon. Wasn’t it?

The contact surged through her like a jolt of electricity—a cliché, but it seemed appropriate. Every cell in Cara’s body went on alert. She heard distant music. Not angels singing, more like the bom-chicka-bom-bom soundtrack of a vintage porn movie, but it fit the erotic promise in that simple touch that, she suspected, hadn’t been intended to convey more than generic, instinctive flirting.

Moisture gushed between her legs. Her nipples perked painfully.

Her willpower and morals were out drinking whisky until their panties melted, and the pale memory of a dead man looked at the big, handsome, vividly alive man in her company and decided to join willpower and morals at the bar.

“Oh Powers,” Jack whispered, no trace of teasing in his voice now. “Did you feel that too?”

Before she could answer—before she could deny what she certainly shouldn’t be feeling, manage a last-ditch effort not to do something dumb—they were kissing.

Cara was doomed.

No, she’d been doomed even before he wrapped his arms around her, guided her to her feet and pulled her against him with a groan. Doomed before she got a good noseful of his scent, pine and fresh air, wood smoke and, despite being in wordy form, fur. Doomed before his mouth took hers, nothing polite or tender or gentle about it, but sheer, wanton need.

Doomed from the instant she woke to see him sitting next to her bed, looking like where he really belonged was in it. Doomed as soon as she’d laid eyes on him along the road. Doomed perhaps, as soon as she’d had that first erotic dream.

It wasn’t right, she dimly knew, to blame fate or magic or anything other than her own weakness and Jack’s for impulsive behavior. His hands gripped her ass, cocking her hips forward so her heated sex pressed against his rock-hard thigh, while his lips and tongue and even his teeth did things to her mouth that sapped her common sense. The surprising heat of his body embraced her so she felt like she wore his aura of feline and magic. Her body, and perhaps their magic, made the choice for her.

Maybe for him too, because Jack, big, beautiful, arrogant Jack, was trembling against her like a teenage boy in the heat of his first time. His hands shook as they worked their way under her layers of clothing. They were cold on her skin, but only for a second. Then they turned hot, as if leaving trails of fire behind them as they journeyed up her body.

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Teresa Noelle Roberts started writing stories in kindergarten and she hasn’t stopped yet. A prolific author of short erotica, she’s also a published poet and fantasy writer—but hot paranormals and BDSM-spiced contemporaries are her favorites. She’s hard at work to bring you sexy magic with more Duals and Donovans adventures and getting kinky with hot dominant guys and smart women who submit to them—but not anyone else!—for your reading pleasure.

Teresa is a bit of a crunchy granola girl who enjoys belly dance, yoga, medieval re-creation, playing in the ocean, cooking, and growing more vegetables than she and her husband can possibly eat. She shares her home in southern Massachusetts with her husband, a Leo who works in law enforcement, and two overstuffed cats, who deserve their own shout-out as inspirations for her works. She and her husband often plan vacations around food, history, and/or proximity to water.

Find out more about Teresa at http://www.teresanoelleroberts.com/. Or if you’d rather chat a bit, follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/TeresNoeRoberts or become a fan at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorTeresaNoelleRoberts.