Places to find Rosanna:
Paranormal romance has always been my preferred genre, whether it comes to writing or reading. And I know I’m not alone. It whisks me away as no other type of story can. Don’t get me wrong. I have no issues with historical or contemporary, but there’s something about a tall, dark and undead man that gets my heart pumping.
Not that my favorite heroes have to be vamps. Vampires were probably my first supernatural loves, and who could blame me? They love to suck. That’s a plus. They clean up after themselves with the whole licking wound thing. And well, they’re drop-dead gorgeous.
However, I like to be broad-minded. I’ve spent a bit of time writing about Greek god heroes too and they are truly fun. Think of the possibilities! They are endless. I mean, a god! Just think of the things you could achieve with him in the bedroom.
Lately, I've turned to the selkie world. My latest novel, aptly named The Selkie, is about these seal shape shifters from Scottish mythology. Selkies are reputed to be devastating lovers and unbelievably good-looking. ‘Nuff said, right there!
They say if you cry seven tears into the sea, you can call an immortal selkie lover. He will come to you and love you as no human man can. The heroine in my novel doesn't go looking for a selkie, but thanks to a meddling grandmother, a selkie comes looking for her. It leads to sexual spontaneous combustion.
So, if you adore the world of the paranormal and like your heroes dark and a little wild, I hope you’ll get a chance to check out The Selkie. I’m giving a copy away to a lucky commenter. You could be taking home your very own selkie tonight!
This was supposed to be her year. However, after losing her job and discovering her fiancé cheating, Maggie Collins has her doubts. When her grandmother dies, she hits rock bottom. Maggie travels to her grandmother’s home in Orkney, Scotland to sort through her gran’s things, only to discover the old woman has left her a seal pelt as her inheritance. She also learns that others are after the pelt.
To add to her frustration, Maggie’s dreams are filled with luscious images of a long-haired man, images that draw her to the magical beaches in Orkney. Although she’s lost her trust in men, this dream man inspires her with a lust she’s never known before.
Calan Kirk has also been dreaming. Dreaming of Maggie, the mortal woman who arouses him as no other woman ever has. Meeting her in the flesh when she arrives in Orkney is nothing short of spontaneous sexual combustion. But she is a human, and not to be trusted. He needs the seal pelt, not a red-haired temptress.
As a thief ransacks Maggie’s grandmother’s house, Maggie and Calan are thrust together. They must search for the animal skin, a mythical relic which once found, will either bring them together or rip them apart forever.
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Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn't the animal at all.
It was a man. He was rising out of the waves, walking toward her. She froze. He was nude, utterly nude, and was staring at her with overflowing intimacy. As if they’d had, God help her, relations.
And she realized, with sudden panic, they’d had! In her dreams. He was the seal-man from all her sex dreams.
Her first instinct was to call for help, but there was no one near. And then she realized with frightening awareness that she didn't want any help anyway. Glued to her spot, she couldn't help but drink him in.
He was beautiful, if unnervingly wet and naked. He had long, shiny, brown hair that hung down past his shoulders. His face could have belonged on an ad for expensive cologne, and he had a body to match. Sculpted shoulders gave way to arms corded in muscle. His defined chest was blanketed by a smattering of sparse, brown hair that led tantalizingly to his rock-hard abs.
Maggie held her breath as her gaze traveled lower on his body, taking in trim calves and thighs a quarterback would envy. And, she noted with simultaneous hunger and horror, his penis was the biggest she’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. It was thick and long and glistening with the droplets of water that yet cascaded over his body. And it seemed to be reaching for her. She gulped, and forced herself to look back up at his face.
There was a faint glow about his skin, a shimmery aura. Dismissing it as a trick of the moonlight, she shook her head.
He was almost upon her, and his full lips were taut in a teasing grin. Maybe he was a surfer who’d lost not only his board, but his shorts in the waves. She knew she should be frantic, but wasn't There was something in his brown eyes that was so familiar, so soothing, even as they swept over her own body with lustful appreciation.
He stopped in front of her, and stood boldly, unashamed of his glorious nakedness. She managed to spit out one hushed word. “You.”
“You,” was his equally awed reply.
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