Lisa Carlisle
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Masquerade Party Guests
The main characters from Smoldering Nights are invited to a masquerade party. What are their costumes?
When Nike and Michel arrive at a masquerade party, she is dressed as a seductive vampire in a slinky black dress. Michel is dressed as a hot firefighter, only he’s just wearing suspenders on the upper part of his body to expose his chest. Bite marks with blood are visible on his neck. They chose these outfits to play role reversal at the party, since Nike is the actual firefighter and Michel the vampire.
Smoldering Nights
1st in the Underground Encounters series
Only Michel isn’t an ordinary mortal. And someone from his past is on the hunt for vengeance. Michel and Nike are forced on the run and hide out in a coastal cottage in Maine. They can’t resist their attraction and spend the nights exploring each others’ bodies while trying to sort out how they feel about each other. Can they overcome their differences to be together? And how will they evade the predators who are chasing them?
The following excerpt from SMOLDERING NIGHTS is for readers 18 and over.
Nike
Their strict dress code at Vamps warned curious passersby away: “No jeans, no sneakers, no baseball caps. Leather, vinyl and fetish wear highly encouraged. If in doubt, wear black.”
I looked at the stone gargoyles that flanked the entrance as if they were old friends. Perhaps they were hung there to appear creepy and warn visitors away from this underground club. I preferred to think they signaled protection for whoever entered.
Maya pulled the aged-bronze door handle.
“Ladies, you look ravishing as always,” Byron, the bouncer/ID screener, said. “Like you’re ready to break some hearts.”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“Except yours,” Maya said, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“You’re such a flirt,” Byron said. “Go on in.”
“This is going to be a great night,” Maya said, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. “I can feel it.”
“The only thing I feel right now is your death grip.”
“Sorry,” she said, letting go. “Maybe we’ll meet someone special.”
“Ha! In a fetish club?” I answered. “Come on. I’m only here to dance, not date. You wouldn’t seriously date some guy you met while wearing a tiny schoolgirl outfit, would you?”
I followed her down the dark tunnel lit by candelabra attached to the stone walls. The flames were powered by electricity so as not to violate any fire codes, yet they still emanated a fiery glow.
“No. Ugh. Do I ever?” she asked, giving me her incredulous look. “Doesn’t mean we can’t meet interesting people,” she said. “Remember those guys from England we met a few months ago?”
I nodded.
“They were a blast.”
I shrugged. “They were okay,” I said. “I don’t know how they found out about this club. All I know is I’m hoping for a good night. It was such a shitty week at the firehouse and I’m more than ready to let off some steam.”
“And it’s not often we get a Saturday night off. Definitely the best night of the week here.”
The general public would consider Vamps freaky Thursday and Friday as well, the other two nights it was open. For some reason, Saturday was extra special. Maybe it was DJ Mistress Mona putting on faster, more exciting music that worked the crowd up to a dancing frenzy on the three platform stages and dance floor. Maybe the bartenders put an extra kick in their smoky concoctions. Or maybe it was the Saturday night regulars, decked out in their most outrageous and scanty outfits, who made Vamps their own.
When we made it to the main dance area, the floor was packed. People appeared free to be themselves, wearing whatever suited them–from fishnets and corsets to kinky cowgirl, from steampunk to punk rock–in an environment where they could be uninhibited and unjudged. And they wore black–lots of it.
I often asked where the regulars came from. Vamps seemed like it would fit better in downtown Boston or at least eclectic Salem rather than this little artists’ village tucked in the North Shore. Most of the regulars came from Gloucester, Salem, Portsmouth, and some even drove up from Boston. They attributed it to a more authentic local flavor than the city clubs often frequented by gawking tourists looking for a freak show.
Living Dead Girl came on. Even though I didn’t have a drink, I lost myself in the music, trying to shake off work-mode Nike. When a couple guys started to dance with us, I barely noticed and I didn’t mind.
It was him.
Oh my God. He was here.
In all the times I’d come here, dressed in all kinds of tight, miniscule outfits, never had I felt so exposed. I wished I wasn’t wearing a laced-up black leather dress that exposed a lot of cleavage and was tight enough to show a pimple on my ass.
He was sitting on one of the dark-red leather stools, facing the crowd. I looked up at him twice and caught his eye quickly both times before I looked away. Those ice-blue eyes were so penetrating. Each time I’d caught his eye at the rock climbing gym, I’d have the same reaction–I’d look away quickly.
Why didn’t I have the guts to say hi? He was just another guy. So why did he have that effect upon me? There were tons of hot guys with jacked bodies at the gym. This one–only this one–made me react this way, like a zombie unable to speak.
My palms were beginning to heat up and I was painfully aware of the sound of my heartbeat despite the reverberation of the pounding bass around us.
“I know you from the gym, don’t I?”
Purchase Link: Ellora’s Cave and Amazon.com
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Such wonderful books featured here. Each one is just as great as the one before. thanks so much for bringing these to my attention
debby236 at gmail dot com
Thanks for having me today, Kate. I love the idea of a masquerade party. Much fun.
I like the role reversal they did for their costumes… sounds good!
Ooh, fun premise! Thanks for the excerpt, Lisa!
Thank you, I had fun with it!
Lisa