Yes, that below is a Snoopy comic. What is it doing here? Well, you'll have to ask today's visitor. C.P. Foster is dropping in with Snoopy and her latest epic sounding paranormal romance, Secret Studies!
Snoopy and the Beast
I think every writer can relate to Snoopy. There are times when I stare at the blank screen and nothing happens. But not with the Arcaneology series.
It started as a hot little short story purely for my own enjoyment. But then the world of Angie and Steffen started taking shape, and next thing I knew I was building a vampire culture, creating a new supernatural species, and weaving Bright Ideas together into a story. A massive story. The first two books were originally one monster of a novel (no pun intended). I called it The Beast.
Even after I’d finished The Beast and started submitting it to editors, more ideas kept leaping into my head. Like, how will Angie and Steffen manage to build a relationship? Will anyone else figure out her past? And how about the other kinds of creatures Angie would want to study. What would it be like to spend a couple of weeks doing field research in an enclave of elves? What kinds of elves would I create for the Arcaneology universe? I took a bunch of notes and stuffed them in a drawer, because I wanted to see if The Beast would sell before I started on a sequel. In the meantime, I wrote something else, and have started shopping it around.
Now the Beast has been released (in two parts – I wonder if that hurt? Poor beast), and it’s time to get to work on the third. Those ideas have started dancing around again, characters taking shape and talking to me, Steffen is growling, and I have a ton of research to do. I hope y’all enjoy Secret Studies. I’ll get book three out to you as soon as I can!
She went to him, and let him draw her onto his lap. He angled her so her legs dangled to one side while her back rested against his broad chest. His skin felt cool, but not as cold as before.
“Did you intend to tease me by leaving that lovely throat bare?” he murmured into her ear.
“Don’t you like it?”
His growl vibrated over her. “I’ve thought of little else since the moment I arrived. May I taste you now?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
With a gentle touch, he took the single curl that tickled the side of her neck and tucked it behind her ear. Grace closed her eyes as he settled his mouth over her vein. His fangs extended, thin as those of a snake, and pricked the soft skin. She held her breath.
He curved one arm around her waist an instant before he struck. Pain flickered for only a second, then a lush wave of pleasure overtook her, and she moaned aloud. His arm tightened while his other hand stroked up to cover her breast. He squeezed. Found the stiffening nipple and pinched. Grace arched with desire as he caressed his way to her thighs and edged them apart. The suction of his drinking, the quiet sounds he made, the way his body grew warmer with each passing second, all of the sensations engulfed her.
He eased her skirt up and nudged her panties aside so he could graze his fingertips over her moist lower lips. She tensed from head to toe as he traced a slick path to her bud and began to stroke. Her racing heart pumped blood into his mouth. Pleasure built, and when she came, he sucked harder to drink in her ecstasy.
C. P. Foster is a writer of urban fantasy, romance, and erotica. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, Cuddles the caliby kitten, and a cat named Tom that is no longer actually a tom. She doubts he appreciates the irony.
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