Reviews
4
1/2 Stars
“Jane
Eyre meets The Mummy...[her] characters are so
multidimensional that readers will swear they’re based
on real people.”
—
Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“[She] writes lovely erotic romance with
plenty of heart and passionate soul.”
—
Michelle Buonfiglio,
Romance B(u)y The Book
84 out of 100
“Burns
manages to have Constance breaking a few stereotypes
without coming off too much like a contemporary
character... I find Dangerous is a pretty
good read...”
—
Mrs. Giggles
“...a powerful, sensually driven historical paranormal
that is a testament to Ms. Burns' gift of keeping her
readers spell-bound. Highly Recommended Reading!”
—
ParaNormal Romance.org
Four Roses
“Burns writes
the kind of sexy, paranormal historical stories I want
to read, and I look forward to her next offering!”
—
Romance Reader At Heart
“Ms. Burns is masterful at escalating the sexual tension
and suspense with her characters. Three generations of
murder, stubborn ghosts, and an aging matriarch with
attitude are the perfect compliment to a fantastic love
story that is a joy to read.”
—
Coffeetime Romance
“Monica
writes rich, chocolaty historicals that I really enjoy
reading.”
—
Lynne Connolly, Author
“Readers will definitely find themselves riveted to the
pages as Constance and Lucien’s story unfolds.”
—
Fallen Angel Reviews
“I truly enjoyed reading Dangerous...it was a delightful
and interesting read. Well written and imaginative.”
—
Romance Reader Connection
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Excerpt
(unedited)
At the foot of the main staircase,
she hesitated as she thought she heard a sound coming
from the library. When there was no repetition of the
noise, she entered the salon and closed the door behind
her. Seconds later, she picked up the violin off the top
of the baby grand piano.
The wood of the instrument heated her hand with the same
warmth Lucien’s caress had aroused in her. The memory of
his hand on her skin sent a sweet tremor through her. If
she was to be held hostage to her passion then she’d
play out the emotions in her music. With a deft
movement, she tucked the violin under her chin.
The familiar curve of the chin rest warmed and soothed
her skin as she grasped the bow’s frog in her fingers.
Eyes closed, she slowly caressed the instrument’s
strings with the bow. It was a musical imitation of
Lucien’s hands sliding across her skin. The heat of his
imagined touch expanded and tingled across every inch of
her body as she feathered the bow back across the
strings. The violin’s haunting notes heightened the
slow, teasing image of his dark hands stroking her body
until her senses hummed with awareness.
Her nipples grew hard at the erotic images flying
through her mind, and in desperation she focused all her
attention on the difficult sonata she was playing. It
was a useless attempt. The memory of Lucien licking her
nipples until she was writhing beneath him was too
delicious to clear from her head. With each note her bow
pulled from the strings, it reminded her of the passion
she’d shared with Lucien.
The memory of watching the two of them in the mirror
over his bed sent her heart and fingers racing. What had
begun as a slow arc of sensual notes quickly erupted
into a flurry of sound that echoed the heat flooding her
body. The bow danced across the strings of the
instrument, and her breathing grew ragged as the pace of
the music increased.
She had always loved this particular piece, and had
played it many times with Sebastian accompanying her on
the piano. But tonight she understood the meaning of the
sonata. It was a cry of desperation. It represented the
need and hunger of two lovers. And in her mind, her
hands caressed Lucien, touching him, arousing him until
he groaned with need. Need for her.
With each lyrical phrase she coaxed from the violin, her
body reflected a hunger she knew only one man could
satisfy. Each powerful note she played pulled every one
of her nerve endings taut until they wept from the
haunting music flowing out of her soul.
The violin’s notes became an extension of her emotions,
and the melody evoked the tactile sensations of Lucien
stroking her skin. God, she wanted to feel his touch
again. She wanted his hands and lips on her—caressing
her, tempting her. It was a craving that quickly peaked.
She pulled another fiery passage of notes from the
violin, her movements sharp and frantic as the bow flew
back and forth. The fierce intensity of the music sent
desire charging through her body
Dear God, her playing only seemed to increase her hunger
for Lucien. The beat of her heart crashed against her
breast, matching the violent pace of the sonata, while a
fire burned in her belly. If only she could exhaust her
emotions in the passion of the piece.
The bow darted its way across the strings in her attempt
to quell the desire the music evoked in her. Fierce and
exquisite in their composition, the strains of the
sonata blazed their way through the room. Sweet heavens,
she wanted to weep from the way the melody forced her to
cajole note after note from her instrument with renewed
fervor. It if were possible for a violin to cry it did
so now, and the music she played swelled around her,
caressing her like a lover. It was a poor substitute for
Lucien’s embrace, but it was all she had.
She sucked in a fresh breath and her body arched in
surrender to the emotion in the music. The notes
escalated into a frenzied arpeggio and tension sailed
through her as she envisioned her body responding wildly
to Lucien until they were both satiated. Her fingers
raced across the fingerboard at the intoxicating image.
Each note flying out of the violin represented a kiss, a
touch, a thrust of Lucien’s powerful body into hers.
With several frantic strokes of the bow, she pulled the
final furious passage out of the violin. An instant
later, she uttered a soft cry of release and felt the
familiar rush of liquid heat between her thighs.
Ragged breaths escaped her lips, and she sagged into the
soft curve of the baby grand piano. Her heart pounding,
she allowed the emotional outpouring of her frantic
musical display to wash over her. Eyes closed, she
imagined herself caressing Lucien’s hard muscles one
more time, tantalizing him—teasing him into a frenzied
pitch of need. A need that ended with wild, hoarse cries
of excitement as they rode their desire to the ultimate
peak. She shuddered at the image.
“Most impressive, my dear lady.”
With a jerk, Constance opened her eyes to see Nigel
watching her from the darkened corner of the room.
Setting her violin and bow down on the piano, she glared
at the ghost.
“Must you do that?” she snapped. “It’s disconcerting
when you simply appear out of nowhere like that.”
“My apologies. I’m afraid I have little control over my
comings and goings.”
“Just like you have no control over knowing where I can
find the statue, I suppose.”
“Not exactly, but I do remember where one of the
entrances to the labyrinth is, although I doubt you’ll
be pleased.”
“Where is it?” Trepidation hitched her breath as she saw
the rueful expression on the ghost’s features.
“My brother’s bedroom,” he muttered.
“What?” She starred at him in disbelief. “Of all
possible locations, that’s the only one you can
remember?”
“I am sorry. If I could remember where another entrance
was, I would tell you, but at the moment, this is the
best I can offer.”
“And exactly how am I supposed to search his bedroom?”
she snapped.
Nigel bent his head as he cleared his throat. Rigid with
horror, she shook her head vehemently. “No. Not
again. You can’t ask it of me. I don’t think I could
bear it.”
“Exactly what couldn’t you bear, my lady?”
The familiar low growl in her ear made her cry out in
surprise. Wheeling around she took two quick steps
backward as she looked up into Lucien’s dark features.
His gaze scraped over her with contempt as he moved
forward to search the area where Nigel was standing.
When he found nothing, he whirled around to face her, a
cold rage tightening the muscles of his jaw.
“Where is he?” |
