Beyond Romance: Trust your heart – #NewRelease #PNR #MFRWHooks

Wednesday, May 17, 2023

Trust your heart – #NewRelease #PNR #MFRWHooks

Greetings! For today’s MFRW Book Hooks, I’m celebrating my new release The Eyes of Bast, a steamy paranormal erotic romance set in New York City. Today's snippet is rated G, but the book itself most definitely is not. (For a hotter sample, see my Sizzling Sunday post from the 14th!)

Hope I manage to snag your interest!

Blurb

Trust your heart. Follow your dreams.

When instinct tells Shaina to visit the feral cat trap she’s set in Central Park, she listens to that inner voice. She discovers she’s caged a magnificent black tom, but the cat inexplicably vanishes after she tends to his wounds. Seeking the missing feline, Shaina encounters instead a handsome stranger whose slightest touch sets her body on fire. As the day dawns after a night of ferocious passion, her mysterious lover is forced back into his true shape—the tomcat she rescued.

Born a cat, Tom was transformed into an unwilling shape shifter by a sorceress who craved a human plaything to satisfy her perverse lusts. Centuries old and irresistibly powerful, Delphine Montserrat will stop at nothing to find her runaway familiar. Shaina vows to do whatever is necessary to defeat the vicious but seductive witch and save the man she believes is her soul mate—even though it might mean losing him forever.

The Eyes of Bast was previously published by Totally E-Bound. This new edition has been revised and re-edited.

The Hook

When faced with the impossible, humans tend to deny it exists.

I knew perfectly well I’d never have left the door unlocked, but I tried to pretend otherwise. You were totally destroyed last night, I argued with myself. You didn’t know what you were doing. There was no alternative explanation. I must be responsible.

Still, the odd slip nagged at me as I headed toward the park at a brisk pace, along with my concern about the injured tom. I racked my brain, trying to understand what might have happened to him. Cats have a way of making themselves invisible, of course, and injured felines frequently hole up in unlikely spots to suffer and heal. In my tiny apartment, though, there was really no place to hide.

The crisp morning air cleared the cobwebs from my brain. The sun peeked over the tops of the buildings on Fifth Avenue, gilding the path as I strode along my usual route, pumping my arms and breathing hard. Other denizens of the city passed me, walking or jogging, sometimes offering a friendly nod. I was distracted, mentally searching my studio once more.

Had I checked the shelf in my closet? It was well above eye level and rather hard for me to reach. I used it for storing summer clothes in the winter and vice versa. Could Tom have slipped behind some of the boxes? If so, I wouldn’t have been able to see him from the floor.

The notion reassured me. A cat as strong as he was could easily have leaped up to the shelf. Even with his wound, I doubted he’d have any problem. Of course, that made sense. Increasing my pace, I circled back toward my apartment, humming an old Supremes tune.

As soon as I got home, I dragged out the folding stepladder and climbed up to inspect the shelf. I shoved the boxes around, without seeing anything. Stubbornly refusing to admit that there was nothing there, I took them all down and shone a flashlight into the corners. All I found was dust.

A weird sense of unreality hit me. My all-too-familiar little apartment suddenly felt alien, distorted. A chill crept down my spine. I wavered on the ladder, clutching at the closet rod to keep from falling.

The sense of strangeness passed as quickly as it had come. May sunlight streamed in my window. I shook my head. What was wrong with me? It was a glorious morning, a Saturday. No work! I could do my laundry, then meet my friend Janine to enjoy our traditional falafel lunch and trade gossip about our respective bosses. Maybe I’d head down to the Sunshine on Houston for a cheap matinee. Last time I checked the web, they were doing a Truffaut festival. Janine hated French films but maybe I could persuade her to join me.

Like I said, people tend to ignore what they can’t understand.