The weathered old porch creaked as Fletcher rocked back and forth in the chair. The moon slowly came up over Sunrise Mountain, casting its silver light over the cedar and pine. Snow had started to fall hours ago, the kind of snow that turned to ice as soon as it touched anything on the ground. The trees were leaning with the pressure on their branches. The road was impassable already, and would remain that way for weeks.

Fletcher was completely unconcerned with time and content to be snowed in. He went on rocking and listened to the snow settling on the old tin roof above him. Every now and then he spotted an owl, rising on white wings, gliding soundlessly over the treetops. The moonlight turned the owl's eyes into bright prisms of light for an instant before it disappeared into the leaves again.

The shape of a small animal at the end of his long gravel driveway caught his eye. Fletcher calmly reached for the shotgun propped up against the porch railing, running his hand over the smooth barrel, ready to use the weapon if necessary. Eventually the animal left the shadows and walked through a shaft of moonlight, showing Fletcher the distinctive markings on its face – a raccoon. The little fellow waddled its way up the rocky road that surrounded the cabin and occasionally stopped to sniff the air, barely bothering to glance at the now-familiar man up on the porch. Fletcher relaxed and let his hand fall from the barrel of the gun.

Up on Sunrise Mountain, all kinds of animals might come hunting to his doorstep, but it was very doubtful any of them would be human, and that suited Fletcher just fine. He had jumped into the rat race at a fresh-faced twenty-two, straight from college to a high-pressure job in Silicon Valley. By thirty-two, the dot com boom had slammed with the force of a nuclear bomb, and he was a millionaire many times over. By the time he was thirty-five, he was so burned out he didn't give a damn if he had a dollar to his name, as long as he had some peace of mind. There was no one he trusted.

It hadn't taken long for him to realize that the worst predators were of his own kind.

Fletcher looked back up at the moon. It danced into the snow clouds, turning the world darker. His ears made up for what his eyes could no longer see in the dim light. Leaves rustled with the breeze. Tiny animals scurried around the sides of the cabin, bolder now that they were under the cover of night. A mountain lion howled, and though the sound echoed with menace through the wide valley between the hills, Fletcher's confident ear knew the big boy was miles away.

The raccoon was still making its way up the drive. Fletcher had taken a liking to his furry neighbor and kept back a bit of dinner now and again, then set it around the porch for the raccoon to find. Fletcher liked to watch the pretty creature in the moonlight. It was the only company he had up here in the middle of nowhere.

He watched as the raccoon stopped in mid-stride and looked toward the top of the ravine. Fletcher slowly stopped rocking and listened closely to the sounds he understood just as well as his own language – the slight tapping of one tree limb against another, the abrupt silence of a larger animal when it caught the scent of a human on the air, the unholy scream of a hawk as it dove for prey. The raccoon listened, too, its tiny head cocked to better hear the sounds on the air.

Fletcher heard it then, the sound that was so out of place – a scuffling, bumbling sound, unlike any of the sleek animals so accustomed to wandering through the woods at night.

He rose slowly to his feet, staring at the place from where he was certain the sound had come. The raccoon was down on all fours again, sniffing cautiously, still as a stone. The sound came again, but the coon wasn't making a move to investigate, and Fletcher knew that wasn't a good sign. That raccoon was a smart animal. He knew better than to attack anything bigger than he was.

Fletcher thumbed the safety on the rifle and lifted it to his shoulder.

I've got a ton of whipped cream, ready to share with you...just take a look at the Whipped Cream site, where they took the time to interview me! (What did you think I meant, hmmm?)

In this interview I talk about everything from erotic writing to sensual research to...well, Coca-Cola and lobsters. Seriously!

Click here to take a look at the interview, and don't forget to join the WC yahoo group -- I'll be around this week, answering any questions you might have. Except maybe that question about my most embarrassing moment. There are some things even an erotica writer doesn't tell!

(If for some reason those links don't work, take a look at my blogspot for the latest information: gwenmasters dot blogspot dot com. Thanks!)

Finchy is still hurting from the demise of a relationship she believed was forever. Ayza is a recording artist on the rise and far too sexy for his own good. When Ayza offers her a shoulder to cry on and the comfort she needs, Finchy falls into his arms. As Ayza’s songs blaze up the charts, Finchy becomes his muse, the only thing he loves more than the music. Together against the world and buoyed by success, they feel invincible.

But charming Ayza is married, a fact Finchy keeps firmly between them, no matter how intense their affair becomes. Their relationship grows with every hotel room, every stolen moment, and every mile on that tour bus. The guilt grows, too, until Ayza is drowning in the bottom of a bottle, his career in jeopardy. With both of them pushed to the edge, Finchy has to answer the toughest questions she will ever face: Is there hope for redemption? Is there hope for a future? Should she walk away? Or should she hold onto the man she loves, no matter what the cost?

This month on For the Girls, I’m talking about that scary thing called Commitment, and one of those perks of settling down -- sex hotter than a mile of firecrackers!

The connection I felt with Mr. Right was fire-engine hot, the kind of sizzling seduction that kept me awake at night. I was in a state of sexual charge that was impossible to deny. One look at him and all the pleasure centers in my body lit up. I’ve read about pheromones and the things they do to the body, and if all that’s true, then Mr. Right must have been born with much more than his proper share...

It's my Featured Author Day on the Romance Excerpts Only group. Want to read some great teasers from my latest novels? Or read about how they got started, and some of my thoughts on the tales? I'm posting excerpts, snippets of reviews and insights into books like After All These Years and One Breath at a Time.

Click here to join me!

Join me today at Lust Bites, where we're talking about One Breath at a Time.

Read a hot excerpt and leave a comment for your chance to win a copy of the book, autographed by yours truly!

From the beginning of the story it's an emotional rollercoaster. There's a shocker that makes After All These Years really interesting and causes even more turmoil. It's almost purely a romance. It was a nice change of pace and the ending had me smiling.

My writing career has taken many twists and turns over the last several years, and now it's taking another! I'm so excited about the new developments, and I can't wait to share them with you.

To stay up-to-date on the latest news, and to get an inside peek at what's coming next, join my mailing list. And if you want the latest promotional goodies and announcements delivered straight to your snail mail box, send me your mailing address along with your email.

Big surprises are just around the corner!

Cheers,
Gwenny

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