Roxanne Rhoads: Author Take Over with R.M. Garry

Hello, naughty readers. My name is R.M. Garry and I write sexy paranormal novels.

Today, I will be taking Roxanne's blog hostage.

I had a lot of adventures in college which is why my stories are so titillating.

The tale I am sharing with you involves a difficult course and a vampire. Even if you don't believe in vampires, this story is so strange that it might change your mind.

As usual, the names and events have been altered to protect the not so innocent.

RESEARCH, STATISTICS, AND A VAMPIRE

"Ms. Joseph, wake up."

Calloused fingers nudged my shoulder. The touch was insistent. I knew the voice without opening my eyes. Only one person would call me Ms. Joseph instead of Sabine.

It was Dr. Jaime Moreno. His sent alone could send me into overdrive. My throat went dry at the thought of his hands on me.

It is so hard to think when he is so close to me.

I was a fourth-year student at the University and had grown accustomed to his presence at the library. He would work from there during finals in case students required extra assistance. Everyone asked for help in his class. He always insisted on teaching the evening courses. Other professors gladly passed on the late night sections. The students in those sessions generally worked during the day and had no ability to fully grasp the material. Eventually, the faculty member would be overwhelmed by the additional study time needed by the night students. Dr. Moreno was different. Even after four lectures, he would go to the library to provide further assistance.

Dr. Jaime Moreno was the department lead for research and statistics. Since I had the bright idea of becoming a Biochemical Engineer, research and statistics was a mandatory course. He was also the leading specialist and faculty advisor for my program.

I had been breathing his air for four years, and it still had to power to make me lightheaded.

"Are you evaluating a new method for understanding the course text?" He inquired.

I hated his sexy Columbian accent. It was distracting. How could any woman study with that kind of sin staring her in the face? I tried to see him through squinted eyes, but the view was not enough. Those beautiful green beacons deserved more. My head made a valiant effort to come up off the table then failed. The response to his question came from behind my big brown hoodie.

"The material is so interesting that I fell into a state of suspended excitement.” I retorted.

Yeah, I totally made that up. Even my imagination responds to his presence.

"Which topic made you so excited that you fell asleep?"

"All of them?"

I searched blindly on my lap for the nearly dry highlighter I had been using.

"Why don't you call it a night, Ms. Joseph? You’ve been here since 6 p.m."

"I just need another coffee. Then I can mentally devour the research on soil biology."

"It’s midnight; you don't need caffeine. Studies have found that a lack of sleep leads to a decrease in cognitive functioning.”

His words caressed my frayed nerves. It was midnight and I was exhausted. The library stayed open until 2 a.m., but my brain had shut down hours ago. It was time to call it a night. I was able to finally force my head off the table. I began to fill my backpack. The previously mentioned dead brain decided to wander into curiosity.

He has been in class for most of the evening and then came to the library. Why isn’t he tired?

The hairs on my arms stood in warning as he shifted to stand behind my seat. His proximity was the most action I had seen in over a year.

My life was so glamorous. At the ripe age of 21, most of my nights had been spent huddled in the library. My idea of provocative was an unproven biological or chemical theory. As I pondered the suckishness of my youth, he gently brushed my hair. I jumped at the feel of the light touch.

Oh, holy chemical reactions. He is touching my hair. Ok, Sabine, stay calm. It was probably an accident or my subconscious praying for his attention. I had to break the silence.

“Thank you for waking me up Dr. Moreno. I am a little overwhelmed this term.”

“Is there anything I can help you with Ms. Joseph?”

“You’ve already spent hours tutoring me. What else can I learn?”

His next words were spoken to the exposed skin on my neck.

“There is so much I can teach you, Sabine. These books are limitations on what you can truly learn.”

Every pore, hair, and cell on my neck became electric. My exhausted body pulsed with life. It wanted more. I need more from him.

Touch me, please.

I took a breath and cleared my throat.

“You have taught me so many things. I am honored to have you as faculty advisor.”

Please let this be real.

His dark bronzed skin and green eyes had kept me awake for four years. The things I wanted to do to those toned abs were improper between a student and her advisor. Yet, I help my breath in preparations for his next words. My vital organs battled for life sustaining oxygen as air froze in my lungs. I wanted his next words to own me.

“There are hidden places in your inquisitive brain I want to explore.” He whispered softly into my ear.”

“My test scores can tell you everything you need about my intellectual abilities.”

His slow chuckle sent tingles through my scalp.

“What I am interested in cannot be measured on a Scantron my little scientist.”

I gripped the sides of my seat in hopes of remaining upright. My extensive vocabulary evaporated. How to do you respond to a statement like that? He gave me a brief escape from my thoughts by speaking first.

“Sabine, the choice is yours. I will be waiting outside. If you want more than what you have received in four years, meet me in the library parking lot.”

This was the only time he had ever called me by my first name. The entire time I have known him, it has always been Ms. Joseph. Was I hallucinating?

The moment I tried to ask another question, he was gone.

Okay, there was no way my brain blacked out. He was just here, inviting me to elevate my knowledge. In a rush, my bag was packed and the empty study hall sang the echoes of my rushing feet.

If the sexiest and most intelligent professor on campus wanted to teach me things, I was going for it.

There was sweat coating my hands even in 60-degree weather. As I approached the lot, the most beautiful image set against a moonlit night caught my attention. My Biochemical God was leaning against his fire red Camaro with a smile on his face.

I kept breathing as my lips turned into the Sahara.

Okay, now what?

He wordlessly escorted me to the passenger’s side of his vehicle. I was ushered in. The pleasure of his words erupted over my senses as we were pulling out of his reserved space.

“Thank you for coming to me Sabine.”

Words, I need to string letters together and respond. Help me brain. I took a chance.

“Why me?” I asked.

“You were the shy quiet freshman who challenged my theory on hybrid plant evolution.”

“A lot of student’s challenged you. Science demands that we challenge what is expected.”

His perfectly stated “hmm” sent tingles up my spine. I had quoted a sentence from the very first lecture he taught during my freshman year.

“No of them made me question everything I know. None of them are you.” He informed in a patient tone. He was accustomed to my numerous questions.

“Why am I Sabine today?” I probed further.

He gave me a quick side glance before returning his focus to the road. The brief look made me squirm in the warm leather seat.

“Your name reminds me of the most succulent fruits in the world. Saying it makes me want to taste you.” He confessed.

There went my final brain cell.

My revelation was whispered. “I almost stayed in the library.”

“I am glad you came to me on your own my sweet.”

“Where are we going?” Yes, this would have been a vital question before getting into the car, but my rusty hormones were in control.

“Home. We are going home.”

I desperately wanted to panic but noticed his hands gripping the wheel tighter. He was waiting for me to rebuke his statement. Fatigue and anticipation battled for ownership within my cells. The energy to do more than surrender to my Chemical God evaporated.

The drive was a short or I was distracted by our conversation.

His house sat on a massive property. It was late, so the only thing visible was the golden gate that stood sentinel against the outside world. We pulled into a garage full of vintage and new cars.

Good Lord, how much does a Biochemist slash professor make?

Thoughts of money and fancy cars vanished as our palms touched. He helped me out of the car. I reached for the backpack and he stopped me.

“You won’t need it. Your body is all we will work with tonight.”

Dear panties, I apologize for your instant combustion.

“Are we conducting a bio experiment?” I questioned in a high pitched squeak.

“Your sense of humor is so refreshing. Ms. Joseph.”

Great. We are back to Ms. Joseph. My panties may just survive.

I was escorted into a grand living room. The colors seemed to blend into the shadows of the fireplace. It felt warm and inviting. I turned in time to watch his green eyes devour my body. The few feet separating our bodies was swallowed within seconds. His hands braced my face.

“Tell me you want this, Sabine. I need to hear you ask for more.”

Words failed me. There was a loss of connection between my brain and my lips.

“If you don’t want this, I can take you home.” His statement was made as he softly caressed my back.

Oh hell no. I did not stalk my watch and spend four years drooling to run away. I am a grown woman.

The University has a strict policy against students and professors engaging in any sexual contact. He took a big risk tonight and I won’t let it be in vain.

“Dr. Moreno, I—.”

He tilted my chin up and spoke softly. My body automatically leaned into his touch.

“Jamie, to you, I am Jaime.”

“I want everything you are willing to give me, Jaime.”

His lips descended in a hungry fury. He kissed and sucked along my throat and jaw. The slow progress towards my lips was maddening. I tangled my fingers in his hair and begged.

“My lips Jamie, please.”

He growled into my skin before finally granting my wish. When our mouths made contact, my skin buzzed. Blood rushed to the surface of my swelling lips to greet his exploring tongue. My mind was lost in the fog and I barely heard him speak.

“Tú eres mi Eternidad.”

Lust clouded the translation for a few seconds, but it finally clicked.

You are my eternity

By the time I gave the words their proper translation, it was too late. I felt a sharp prick along my neck. The strong pull of his lips drove my desire higher. My body felt fuzzy. He was drinking from me. The ache in my core ignited into a full blaze right before the world went dark.

In the morning, I woke up in a massive bed fully clothed and alone. The room was dark except for the reflection of the glass on the dresser. I must have fallen asleep after a long study session with the professor. Last night was probably a dream my overworked subconscious had concocted. . It was time to go home and study for the dreaded Research and Statistics finals.

What if I was talking in my sleep? It would be really hard to discuss chemical bonds with Dr. Moreno after begging him to kiss me in my sleep.

I climbed out of the bed on weak legs. Halfway across the room, there was a pulsing on the side of my neck. My hands searched for the anomaly and found two swollen bumps.

“You look beautiful with my mark.”

I screamed and nearly fell. Strong arms held me steady.

“You scared me.”

“Look in the mirror my love. You are the scary one.”

I turned and saw glowing brown orbs where my eyes used to be. His beautiful green beacons were now glowing red. My scream was so loud that it jolted me out of the nightmare. I fell out of the twin bed in my dorm room. The sheets and pillows had lost the battle to remain on the bed. I pulled myself back onto the bed and flopped down. Five deep calming breaths later, I was back to normal.

It was all a dream.

I think…

Thank you, Roxanne for allowing me to take over your blog. Until next time naughty readers, stay out of the library.

The Noir Dera

Beacon of Sound

R.M. Garry

Genre: Paranormal Romance

ASIN: B00LSSP92C

Number of pages: 247

Word Count: 86,260

Book Description:

You can fight desire…

Marie DeLou doesn’t want to believe that her life is anything less than perfect. After all, how could it not be? She has a thriving mental health practice and a doting husband who loves her. Still, when a freight train of a man tears through her quiet existence, she has to wonder if things—and people—are not always what they seem to be.

…but there’s no stopping destiny

Prince Patrick Alvang of the Noir Dera has one job to do--to save the Beacon of Light, Marie DeLou, from the danger lurking within her walls. But between her smoking hot body and her equally fiery attitude, his task is a whole lot more difficult than he’d expected. Lucky for him, it looks like the only way to get to the finish line is to play dirty along the way…

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Excerpt: A dance with the devil

Marie felt like throwing a party to commemorate the end of her crazy day. She had one client committed and had to stop another session early in order to get her last client to stop crying.

She changed quickly and was ready for the studio within 10 minutes of her last session. She put her new CD on and fought to get through the Brandon traffic.

Brandon, Florida had traffic at all hours of the day. It was as if the traffic Gods rejected the idea of a peaceful drive through the city.

Once she arrived at her studio, she bolted inside and locked the door. She pulled on her silky, beaded skirt and wrapped it snugly around her waist. She then tied a blue scarf to each wrist and began stretching. She turned on the stereo and let the magic begin. Marie started to relax as the sound of Anoushka Shankar’s sitar filled the small dance space.

She could feel the energy coursing through her body. The music threaded through the empty spaces in her spirit. She spun and danced to ISHQ and felt as if she was flying when “Dancing in Madness” floated out of the speakers.

She spared no expense when it came to her studio. It was a place where art came alive. Art and peace were flowing through her body when she saw someone standing outside the studio. Doctor Fallen Angel had come to pay her a visit.

Oh, this is surely the devil’s work.

She would not be decent to him. Refusing to pause the music, she released the deadbolt and let him in.

“Dr. Alvang, I want you to know that Marcel has sold you up the river. There is no way you’ll survive this.” She turned and walked to the center of the studio. She wound her hips to "Si No Puedo Verla" and waited for his response. “You will dance and not complain. You have invaded my peace and I will not give you anything until you’re broken by my music.”

Men hated to dance and she was prepared to mop the floor with the good doctor. Marcel was the only man that could keep pace.

Patrick didn’t hesitate. He walked up behind her and grabbed her by the waist. She relaxed into his hold for a split second. They danced like flames leaping to kiss the air.

It was flawless.

She became lost in the pain, pleasure, joy, and seduction of the sitar and the guitars. Patrick touched every inch of her and demanded that her body respond.

She backed away as her leg slid to his waist. He lifted Marie by the waist and positioned her closer. His palms were on the small of her back. The movement pressed their bodies close. There was no escaping.

It was as if he’d melted into her and bonded them together. The CD ended, and then, without warning, the song changed. Mark Rosas was singing "Higher" and Patrick continued dancing as if the shift in music was inconsequential.

She’d left that dance mix at home.

Why was it playing? The dubstep rhythm in the song gave him an opportunity to really show off. He lifted her into his arms again.

Patrick turned her toward one of the mirrors as he ground into her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his breath brushing against her ear. She was transfixed. Her eyes were glued to the mirror. Their bodies resembled an erotic oil painting.

Patrick pulled her in tighter and she melted into him. Their legs moved, but Marie was lost in the dance.

She heard Mark sing, “I just want to take you higher, com'n let me light your fire."

He spun her around and their eyes met. Patrick's were glowing cobalt beacons that held her gaze. His gaze remained locked on her as if mapping her every emotion. As the song came to an end, he slid her to the floor. And she came to rest in a kneeling position at his feet.