Spotlight, Teasers, Excerpt & Giveaway: Vespers (Hours of the Night #1) by Irene Preston

Book Blurb & Info

By Irene Preston & Liv Rancourt

Release Date: September 13, 2016

Thaddeus Dupont has had over eighty years to forget…

The vampire spends his nights chanting the Liturgy of the Hours and ruthlessly disciplines those unnatural urges he’s vowed never again to indulge. He is at the command of the White Monks, who summon him at will to destroy demons. In return, the monks provide for his sustenance and promise the return of his immortal soul.

Sarasija Mishra’s most compelling job qualification might be his type O blood…

The 22-year-old college grad just moved across the country to work for some recluse he can’t even find on the internet. Sounds sketchy, but the salary is awesome and he can’t afford to be picky. On arrival he discovers a few details his contract neglected to mention, like the alligator-infested swamp, the demon attacks, and the nature of his employer’s “special diet”. A smart guy would leave, but after one look into Dupont’s mesmerizing eyes, Sarasija can’t seem to walk away. Too bad his boss expected “Sara” to be a girl.

Falling in love is hard at any age…

The vampire can’t fight his hungers forever, especially since Sara’s brought him light, laughter and a very masculine heat. After yielding to temptation, Thaddeus must make a choice. Killing demons may save his soul, but keeping the faith will cost him his heart.

Vespers is a complete novel with no cliffhanger. It can be enjoyed as a standalone or read as the first book in the Hours of the Night series.

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Book Excerpt

Perversion. The word warred for attention with the sight of the scars. How hurt did a vampire have to be before he didn’t heal completely? Then the pressure of Dupont’s mouth on his overrode both thoughts. Sara opened his mouth and sighed as Dupont’s tongue took possession. He could worry later. They were both alive now. Better than alive.
He angled his head and arched into Dupont. He hadn’t expected the shrimp discussion to yield such immediate results. Or maybe, as usual, he had no idea what was going on inside Dupont’s head. Having an intermittent live feed on the man’s emotions was less helpful than one might think, especially since Sara still hadn’t gotten a firm handle on which of them was broadcasting what at any given time.
He kept his eyes closed, avoiding Dupont’s gaze. He slid their tongues together, trying to remember why he had been worried about coming in here. They hadn’t talked about sleeping arrangements. The door hadn’t been locked, though. And after yesterday…
Dupont shifted his hips so more than their tongues could get friendly.
Talking could wait. When he had climbed into bed with Dupont, he had stupidly left on his boxers, and now they were hindering full appreciation of the moment.
And maybe they were on the same wavelength right now. Dupont had his thumbs under the waistband, and Sara lifted his hips and squirmed out. Dupont pushed them aside so they were skin to skin. Sara ran his hands along the vampire’s arms, over his back, into his hair.
He would never mistake the feel of the man in his arms for anyone else. Dupont’s body, not yet warm after his day sleep, slid along his like cool satin. Shouldn’t be a turn-on. But should had nothing to do with it. Sara’s skin burned in all the places they touched. He wrapped his legs around Dupont and held him closer, more than willing to warm him up.
The arms around him tightened. Vampire arms, strong enough to crush the life from his body. Their hold was reverent, as if he were something precious. Dupont’s mouth left his to trail kisses over his cheek, his temples, his eyes, each touch a tiny benediction. Cool kisses on burning skin. He didn’t need or deserve adoration. He was only a man who wanted a man—not the vampire or the monk, but the man at the heart of them both.
As if reading his thoughts, a cool hand cupped his hip, then slid around his thigh, lighting fires in its wake until he burned with need. Dupont’s finger circled his hole and ripped away the last of his restraint. He moaned, aware of two things. They weren’t nearly close enough, and he was going to combust when Dupont got inside him. He pulled his legs in closer to his chest and bucked against Dupont, hoping to inspire some urgency.
Dupont took his time, as focused and deliberate in this as in everything else. His kisses wandered lower, grazing along Sara’s jaw, nipping at his ear, sucking on his neck.
Sara angled his head to offer better access. Finally. The biting had been amazing. They could do that again, no problem. Instead, Dupont moved lower, sucking on Sara’s nipples and sending zaps of sensation straight to his dick, maddeningly trapped between their bodies.
It seemed he’d spent an eternity in a haze of need before Dupont was poised over him again.
Then, without warning, everything went sideways.
“Tell me to stop.”
The words didn’t make any sense, but the stillness in Dupont’s body did.
Sara’s eyes flew open, meeting Dupont’s. The conduit opened, and he fell into the storm.
“Tell me to stop.” Far away, the words came again, whispering through the power of the vampire’s gaze.
Sara stared at Dupont, angry he would use his power now. Like the leaking emotions, Sara had never figured out why the whammy worked sometimes and not others, but he doubted he could resist a determined effort when they were this connected. He gathered his own will anyway, ready to fight the command…until he realized he didn’t have to. They were just words. Weak, insubstantial words, struggling to find their way through the waves of need cresting on the real power. He smiled. “Not a chance in hell.”
Dupont’s eyes closed. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against Sara’s. “I am unprepared, and I would not hurt you more than I can help. Let this be our salv—”
“Nah,” Sara managed. He tried for cool, but his voice came out so breathy, he’d have to rely on Dupont’s supernatural hearing. “I was a Boy Scout.”
He reached back awkwardly and fumbled on the table next to the bed. The shorts had been a cop-out, but he hadn’t been stupid enough to come into this bare little room again without lube.
Dupont seemed like he still might be gearing up for second thoughts. Sara wrapped his arms around him and rolled. Coming to his knees over Dupont, he flipped open the bottle and slicked up his fingers. When he met Dupont’s eyes, a big wave of shy hit him. Lots of guys got off on watching their partner prepare themselves. Of course, lots of guys weren’t hundred-year-old monks. He bit his lip, still committed, yet suddenly too self-conscious to reach around and oil his own ass. But, hey, with the beauty of lube, application wasn’t specific to Slot A or Tab B. He scooted backward until he straddled Dupont’s thighs instead of his hips.
Dupont didn’t make any move of encouragement, lying vampire-still beneath him. Stubborn as usual. Iron will sounded hot in genre fiction but was a pain in the ass in real life.
It wasn’t as if Dupont wasn’t turned on, too. Evidence to the contrary bobbed between them, daring Sara to test Dupont’s resolve.
Dupont himself looked hot as hell, laid out naked on the narrow-ass bed under Sara. His skin was moonlight and shadow, a Frenchman’s version of vampire pale. His lips were swollen from their kisses, and a dark flush stained his cheeks.
He looked carnal, and wicked, and nothing like a man too holy to fuck. Despite the stillness of his body, lightning still sparked in his inhuman eyes. Sara met his gaze deliberately as his hand took Dupont’s shaft in a firm, sure downstroke.
Merde.” Dupont arched off the bed.
Oh God, so hot. The power to make Dupont respond, the look on his face…
He slicked his thumb across the head of Dupont’s cock, and Dupont clutched at the sheets. Iron will. Sara grinned. If Dupont tried to whammy him now, he bet it wouldn’t be to make him stop.
Before he could finish the thought, Dupont’s hands were on his arms, pulling him roughly forward. He forgot about whammies and iron will as their mouths met again. Kisses, even Dupont’s, weren’t enough now. He could feel what they both needed behind him, hard and slick and already so close. A little help would be nice, but not necessary. Dupont didn’t need to stress himself, Sara could take care of this for them both. He adjusted his body and impaled himself on Dupont.
The universe went still for one white-hot second. Dupont’s eyes were wide, startled, then the lightning struck.
Dupont was everywhere, between his thighs, in his body, in his head. He was open, invaded, possessed. Hands on his hips set the rhythm, as Dupont drove into him. Concepts of his and mine became meaningless. There was no separation. No Sara. No Dupont. Only the storm, building to an inevitable peak.
They had moved. Sara couldn’t tell how, only that somehow they still had one more barrier to breach. Lips grazed his neck. A final penetration, then even their hearts beat as one. Their shared pulse pounded through him. His body erupted in starbursts and lightning. And his soul found…communion.


Author Info

About Irene Preston

Irene Preston has to write romances, after all she is living one. As a starving college student, she met her dream man who whisked her away on a romantic honeymoon across Europe. Today they live in the beautiful hill country outside of Austin, Texas where Dream Man is still working hard to make sure she never has to take off her rose-colored glasses.

Where to find Irene
Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Mailing List | Goodreads

About Liv Rancourt

I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire … or sometimes demon … I lean more towards funny than angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog’s cuteness is legendary, and we share the homestead with three ferrets. Who steal things. Because they’re brats.

Where to find Liv
Facebook | Twitter | Mailing List | Goodreads


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