Firebreather #1 at Fictionwise!!

I'm all agog. Yes, I said agog. Firebreather just hit #1 at Fictionwise for Erotica. I am thrilled!! The book's been doing very well at Amber Quill and seems to have hit the readers' happy spot. It sure as heck hit mine.

Here's a short teaser (PG-rated, the excerpt, NOT the book) from Firebreather...

After a quick good-night to her family, ignoring the scowls on her brothers’ faces, Lea grabbed her coat from the front coat check and fled out into the blustery night. She waited briefly while a valet fetched her car before driving home as safely as possible. October had brought black nights and gusts of wind to Weaverville, North Carolina, and she had no intention of crashing in the short half hour it took her to return home.
Driving onto the Venlay estate, twenty acres of prime, mostly-level property in the mountains that had been in her family’s hands for generations, Lea finally relaxed for the first time that night. She had the next three days to herself, not having to return to work until Tuesday. And the relief that afforded made her truly smile for the first time in days. Winding through the driveway, past the main house to the groundskeeper’s cottage deeper onto the property, she grinned with contentment as she parked and exited the car.
It was a small house, but it was hers. A quaint cottage with enough room for two to live comfortably, and one person to live like a queen. Shedding her heavy woolen coat, she made her way through the comfortable living room to her personal paradise, the study.
Wooden floors, floor to ceiling bookcases and a to-die-for leather chair she’d spent a fortune on, the study—the study?
“What the hell?”
Long claw marks scarred her prized leather desk chair. The papers she’d worked so hard to publish lay in shreds on the floor, mingling with the scattered remains of her text references and priceless Dracon journals.
She quickly reached for the cell phone stuffed into her jacket pocket now laying on the floor and dialed the main house. “Barbara? Hi, it’s Lea. I’m back for the night. Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” The housekeeper chatted easily and soon hung up, easing Lea’s mind. At least nothing in the main house had been disturbed.
Determined to keep control, she leaned down to salvage an ancient book she’d only recently acquired. It had taken six months to locate Reem’s Lost Arts, of which only a handful had ever been printed to begin with. Unfortunately, her “burglar” must have understood its significance, for only the binding remained, the interior pages ripped free.
Straightening, she surveyed the rest of the damage, praying it looked worse than it actually was. A few broken book bindings, strewn papers over the floor, and a busted desk lamp seemed the extent of the damage—except for Reem’s book. And the chair. And that destruction she took personally.
Burglar my ass, she seethed as she began the painstaking business of setting her study to rights. No point in calling the police, since Dekker owned half the force. Rich and irritatingly sexy, a lethal combination. If the damned man weren’t Dracon, she might be inclined to cut him some slack. But she found it hard to pity his flaws when his strengths shone so brightly. And informing the police of the break-in might enlighten them to her little side-gig, the source of her true happiness and, hopefully, eventual career.
With two overbearing brothers who considered dragons worse than demons, Lea had never felt the desire to share her alter ego. No one but she and her editor knew that she had written several professionally credited articles, and a best-seller, under a pseudonym on the shapeshifting Dracon clan. Years of family research combined with a fierce fascination for the half-man/half-dragon creatures had instilled in Lea a need to understand, and to help others understand.
Despite what she’d said to her sister, Lea didn’t hold any prejudice against the Dracon. Against one in particular, yes, but against them as a whole, no. The stories she’d heard as a child had been just that, stories. She’d been young when her father died, and seeing the beauty of the creatures as they flew through the air had been more than enough to paint them in a surreal, almost mystical light. Even today, she’d give anything to fly among the clouds.
And much as she hated to admit it, Ferin Dekker turned her on as no one ever had, no one real, anyway. Her dreams, however, were another thing altogether. Lusty and provocative, and decidedly carnal, unlike her boring, all-too-real existence. Shaking herself from the heat beginning to overtake her sense, she frowned down at several cracked CDs and collected more scattered paper.
Yes, the Dracon were a people to be studied, to be treasured for their differences. However, rifling through her study and ruining her favorite chair were not the actions of an estimable race. She could only pray her burglar had attacked randomly, and hadn’t realized just how much she knew about the mysterious clan.
Glancing again at the careless destruction, Lea’s anger flared, but she dropped the rest of the papers she’d been gathering as a sudden thought hit.
“Oh, no. Not my hard drive.”
The computer looked untouched, but when she turned it on, nothing happened. The monitor flickered to life, but the screen remained blank. And that’s when she noticed the small holes on the side of the tower case. The back of the computer showed a large gaping wound, where someone had ripped out the hard drive.
Curses streamed from her mouth like a river, and while she raged, she raced through the hallway, praying the asshole hadn’t also located her hidden safe, where she kept a handy backup drive.
Once in her bedroom, she stopped. What if whoever had begun the job of screwing up her research hid in her house even now, waiting for an encore? Glancing furtively around, she waited for the smallest sound to alert her to an intruder. After several quiet minutes, she opened the faux-panel of her nightstand and entered the digital combination to her small safe. When it clicked open, she breathed a sigh of relief. The backup lay on top of her first-edition published articles and her great-great-great grandmother’s illegible journal.
“At least I’ve still got you,” she murmured, relief making her lightheaded.“And I’ve got you,” a familiar voice said with satisfaction, scaring the hell out of her.

****

Have a good one!

Marie