Defining Sexy

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HA cover Hunger Awakened


If someone did a study of the heroes of romances, the physical characteristics that make the hero sexy are somewhat standard. How many can you name? Strong jaw. Piercing eyes. Defined abs. That little cut on the lower abdomen that makes so many women drool…

But in real life, women’s definition of sexy can vary quite a bit. One of my best friends, for example, has an automatic thing for bald-headed men—and this was before being bald was in vogue. My other best friend stops in her tracks for a man with dark eyes. Me? I have a thing for scars. Not necessarily disfigurement, but more like the kind that bisects an eyebrow or one that looks like an artificial cleft on the chin. If you can’t get on board with that one, how about this…I also have a thing for gingers. (Just go with it, okay?)

The heroine of Hunger Awakened, discovers that she has an unusual chose d’affection. Take a look.

She’d thought his eyes had gone from beautiful to incomparable, but words failed her at trying to categorize them right now. They were a crystalline blue, while silver and pearl swirled through its sea. His pupils had elongated, the darkness a slice that seemed out of place.

“I’m wrong.” Sebastian’s voice contained raw emotion. “This…” His wings repositioned.

Jesus. He had wings.

“I know. We’ll figure out what’s going on.” She spoke with a false confidence that she clung to. “How are you feeling otherwise? Any pain? Faintness?”

He rose to his feet without her assistance, and the stomach that contracted painfully before released just a fraction. She wanted to inspect his back, to study his new appendages, but if he was on the brink of destruction, that had to be their priority.

As she stood next to him, all of her senses became hyperaware. While her stomach might have been put at ease, the rest of her body went taut at the looming presence of Sebastian in this new form. He had always been gorgeous, no doubt. The transformation, however, had given him a new strength. More definition. A devastating beauty.

The sharp angles of his face became slashes of bone and shadow. When he’d spoken, the teeth he kept well hidden were longer. More lethal looking.

And those dangerous eyes. They gave her delightful shivers.

“I hurt everywhere.” His gaze was disconcerting. “And nowhere. I’m hungry too.”

Alice took a slow step closer, keeping her hands outstretched and nonthreatening. Not like she could ever do him any harm, but the underlying skittishness in Bast needed reassuring. “Let me take a look at you,” she said. “Maybe I can help a little.”

“You think it’s wise?”

She smiled. Not only was he still nude, he was sporting an impressive erection. “I’ll take my chances.”

He remained rooted, indecision spread across his expression. “I don’t know who I am anymore. What I am.”

“You are still the man who protected me from a blood-thirsty vampire and a dangerous werewolf. I believe you are the man who vowed to protect me from any and all dangers. You’re also the man who kisses me until I can’t think straight anymore.” She paused, licking her lips. “Finally, you’re the man who promised me sexual oblivion. Remember that?”

It probably wasn’t appropriate to bring up his promise, but it was hard to think straight with the sign of his arousal so blatant.

“Like this? You would have me still?”

Alice took another step forward. She wrapped her arms around him, astonished by his new definition. Cautiously turned on. “You’ve got wings now, honey. It’s kind of hot.”

That seemed to startle a chuckle out of him.

What about you? What “questionable” physical characteristic gets your motor revving? I’ll pick one random commenter to receive a ebook copy of Hunger Aroused, the first book in this series, on March 10th because I’m certain you’ll already have your copy of Hunger Awakened by then because it’s available now at Carina AMZ |  B&N | Kobo | Audible | ARe. (By the way, did you know there’s a free between-the-books short on my web site, featuring characters from both Hunger Aroused and Hunger Awakened? Come on over and see!)

Dee Carney is an award-winning, best-selling author of sweetheart vampires and terrifying chefs, husband/wife reconnections and take-no-shit women. Read more on her web site,

Mind on the Run

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Reading has always been my favorite escape.

Well, that or champagne and chocolate on the beach. (In my fantasy world the champagne is always chilled, the chocolate rarely melts, and sand never creeps into uncomfortable places.)

I was neck-deep in winter and in desperate need of distraction when I wrote Don’t Bite the Messenger, my urban fantasy novella with Carina Press. For those of you fortunate enough to have avoided it, winter in Alaska is cold, deep, and still. I found myself wandering aimlessly or lying – salted slug-like – on the couch. Do any of you get the winter blahs like that? You find yourself craving Color. Motion. Excitement. Something to heat your blood and confirm you’re still alive and vital in the darkness.

I’d reread all my favorite books, read a few new ones, and watched every movie with a scene like this in it:

I needed more, and this is where Sydney Kildare, Malcolm Kelly, and the world of Messenger came from.

Anchorage, Alaska

The vampire population may have created an economic boom in Alaska, but their altered energy field fries most technology. They rely on hard-living—and short-lived—couriers to get business done…couriers like Sydney Kildare.

Sydney has survived to the ripe old age of twenty-six by being careful. She’s careful when navigating her tempestuous clients, outrunning hijackers and avoiding anyone who might distract her from her plan of retiring young to a tropical, vampire-free island.

Her attitude—and immunity to vampires’ allure—have made her the target of a faction of vampires trying to reclaim their territory. Her only ally is Malcolm Kelly, a secretive charmer with the uncanny habit of showing up whenever she’s in trouble. Caught in the middle of a vampire turf war, Sydney has to count on Malcolm to help her survive, or the only place she’ll retire is her grave…

Sydney is as determined as she is capable and, despite a rough upbringing, she’s still quick to laugh (don’t let that phenomenal cover fool you) and quicker to help people who need it. Malcolm is hiding secrets behind a charming smile, and his first encounter with Sydney leaves him wanting far more. All he has to do is keep up as she speeds through the frozen streets of Anchorage and beyond.

The story starts with a kiss, a car chase, and an explosion…and then it really gets going. Just what we need on a long winter’s night.

What’s your favorite escape? Is it in your imagination, or is it a real place? Where does your mind turn when it requires rest or revival?


Regan Summers lives in Anchorage, Alaska with her husband and alien-monkey hybrid of a child.

Visit Regan at the following locations:


A saying for every occasion

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Here’s two facts about me that you’ll need to know when you read my stories. First, my parents are from the West Indies. Second, I was raised in the South.

Well, there you go. Have a nice day.

Oh wait…you don’t get it? That could only mean one thing–you don’t have to deal with that influential double-whammy. Face it folks, I can spout a saying to suit Every. Single. Occasion. Even when I don’t mean to add them, they have a way of sneaking in, sometimes indirectly. Look at what happened when I wrote Hunger Aroused:

Rode hard and put up wet.

Every part of her body was hot, just short of combustible. This sensation wound through her, tightening her insides. This burning, twisting ache. Removing her clothing and dropping onto the comfort of her bed helped with some of the sweet pain, but still it wasn’t enough. Jasmine needed more, something undefined, some relief she didn’t know how to name. It was sexual and ravenous, a gnawing hunger…

When he touched her, when he picked her up in his arms, the hunger intensified. The agony burned so brightly, she might explode from the potency of it. Every place their skin connected pulsed with life. Waves of craving and needing rippled out until trapped beneath her skin, they had no place to go. There they pulled at her insides and rolled like a series of detonations. Him—his touch—she needed it like air.

That dog won’t hunt. (Thanks Dr. Phil for making this one a part of pop culture)

“You know of vampires?” he asked finally.

“Vampires? You mean…like garlic-hating, cross-avoiding, destroyed-by-sunlight vampires?”

“Truth.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Vampires, as in Bram Stoker and the like.”

“Are you trying to tell me,” her eyes narrowed, “that someone bit me and I’m becoming a vampire?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“I see.”

Corin could almost hear the wheels of her mind spinning. Definitely anticipated the way her body tensed. In her position, he expected nothing less. When she vaulted from the bed, he was already two steps ahead of her.

Every mikkle mek a mukkle*.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re a hundred years old and sleep in a casket at night.”

He snorted. “Hardly, but I am a vampire. Get your mind wrapped around that.” When she continued to stare at him, his jaw tightened. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“You think?” she replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“What would it take to convince you?” His smile broadened.

“More than…” Despite being only a foot away from him, she took a step closer. Her height gave the perfect vantage point for seeing exactly what he wanted her to see.

No one had incisors like that. No one.

*Loose translation: every little bit counts.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who was brought up slinging all sorts of sayings around. Comment here with one or two sayings your folks or grandfolks raised you with, and I’ll pick a random commenter to win an ebook copy of Hunger Aroused. Winner will be drawn by 11pm EST on 11/8/10 and posted in the comments.

Thanks for stopping by, y’all.

Dee Carney writes erotic romance and erotica, every bit of it influenced by sayings you’ve probably never heard of. Visit her on the web at for more.