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Make Love, Not Money
From Changeling PressBlurb:
Felicia was a newly made blood drinker when the vampire knight, Sir Drake, took charge of her keep and claimed her as his own. The rugged warrior swept her off her feet and ignited her lust in ways she never imagined possible. Now, in today’s world, Drake has become a successful businessman. Rich, refined and boring Felicia to death, which takes a lot for a vampire. Drake has become obsessed with his career and, other than arguments and predictable sex, seems to have lost interest in his wife.
If Drake doesn’t want to bother with her, that’s fine with Felicia. She spends her time with old friends and on shopping sprees, since all Drake seems good for is making money. What she wants is a M-A-N. More than anything she wishes for her man back, but the way things are going that will probably never be.
During an anniversary cruise on their private yacht, Felicia decides it’s time they stop torturing themselves and asks for a divorce. Then the ship sinks in a storm and the couple find themselves on a deserted islet where they have only each other to depend on. Without the shackles of modern living, they rediscover the passion they have lost.
Excerpt:
Felicia paused in the doorway of the gym and drew a sharp breath of desire. All thoughts, except those of a sexual nature, fled from her mind as she watched Drake punch and kick the heavy bag. His strikes made it swing so hard she thought it might fly off the support beam, even though it was a bag made specifically for vampire strength. His tank top, dark with sweat, clung to his sleek torso. Muscles rippled beneath the pale, glistening flesh of his broad shoulders. As his stance shifted, his black sweatpants outlined the shape of his long, sinewy legs.
"Hello, Felicia," he said, his voice deep and husky. He paused, his back to her, and held out a hand to stop the bag from rocking. He turned to her, his steely eyes sweeping her from head to toe. "You look beautiful tonight."
Warmth flooded her at his words and at that moment she was glad she'd dressed so carefully.
"Funny," she walked toward him, her gaze holding his, "I didn't think you noticed how I looked anymore."
"You know I've always noticed you," he said, turning back to the bag and poking it with a jab.
Moistening her lips, Felicia stepped between him and the bag, her breasts touching him.
"I ran here from the office, Felicia."
"I know."
"If you don't move I'll get you all sweaty."
"That would be a very nice change." She slipped her arms around his neck and spoke against his lips.
"Felicia," he said in a warning voice.
"What? I'm either interrupting your work or interrupting your workout." She curled her lip and shook her head in disgust. "Forget it."
She took a step away, but he grasped her upper arm. The heat of his long, slender fingers and the slight dampness of his soft cotton hand wraps turned her on, even though he'd already annoyed her yet again.
"That's not what I meant," he snapped. "If you'd stop taking everything the wrong way maybe we could get along a little better."
"So it's my fault?"
"I don't know why I bother trying to reason with you. There's only one way to shut you up."
"Shut me—"
He covered her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss.
Felicia struggled at first. Struggled against him and against her desire. Desire won and she surrendered to him, at least in body.
She clung to his neck and he wrapped his powerful arms around her, crushing her to his hard, damp chest.
When the kiss broke, she stared into his eyes and loosened his hair from where it was bound in a tail at his nape. "I always loved the warrior in you," she breathed.
"At least you still love something," he murmured, but before she could reply, he kissed her again. This time he swept her into his arms and carried her across the room.
He placed her on the exercise bench and pushed the skirt up to her waist.
