Creatively Green is the blog of freelance writer, avid crafter, and La Mamma Verde (the green mom), Wenona Napolitano.
This blog features everything about her creatively green life from green crafting to eco-gardening, green parenting and green living in general.
You will also find articles on writing, being a mom writer, and see guest posts from authors.
Full of green musings, eco-product reviews, book notes, eco-friendly crafts and so much more.
Nice to be here celebrating my summer paranormal romance release,
Jasmine Moon! ::happy dance::
Jasmine Moon is the third story I’ve written for the Black
Hills Wolves line, a multi-author, shared-world series from Decadent
Publishing. Each book in the series is stand-alone, as unique as the author who
wrote it, so you can dive into the world anywhere you wish, such as right here.
Music is vital to my writing process so I’m pleased to share
Jasmine Moon’s soundtrack with you.
“Steve Lawler” (Livio & Roby’s Black Sea Coast mix) by
“All Is My Love” by Miranda Wong
“Fantasy-Impromptu in C Sharp Minor, Op. 66” by Frederic
Chopin, played by Piotr Paleczny “Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 27 No. 2; ‘Moonlight Sonata’” by Beethoven, played by Stephen Kovacevich
Black Hills Wolves
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Date of Publication: June 3, 2016
Number of pages: 108
Word Count: 36,400
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Tech mogul and workaholic Wolf Evan Luparell has little time for distractions but takes a break for his brother’s wedding in South Dakota. When asked to escort another wedding attendee from the airport to Los Lobos, he agrees. Then he meets the curvy spitfire, and she ignores him.
Designer and Wolf Mina Carver didn’t mean to be rude to the handsome, glowering man claiming to be her ride, but she was busy working. Now she must endure a ride to the Black Hills with the cranky but sexy Dominant Wolf. Unexpected mating energy sparks between them, but still—should she dismiss, or kiss him?
Kisses win and they agree upon a no-strings fling. But with each wedding activity throwing them together, and their powerful chemistry and mate compatibility complicating matters, can two workaholics truly have their fun then walk away?
Evan tipped his
head and eyed the ceiling. Prompt replies, punctual people. Striking deals and
hitting deadlines. These items made his world tick. Not loitering around a
miniscule airport pulling a Waiting for Godot moment on infinite repeat for a
no-show, flakey designer from California.
God grant him
patience and balls of steel when he showed up without the designer and the
all-important wedding dress, because his future sister-in-law Darci would
certainly be unhappy. He’d have to beg a favor from his assistant, have her
snag a couture dress, and fly it ASAP to the Rapid City airport. He could
afford a gown from some famous designer in Chicago or New York, something
likely superior to whatever his soon-to-be sister-in-law’s no-name friend had
created. Right? Shit, he hoped women’s fashion proved so easy.
He took a deep
fortifying breath and froze. Airport smells assailed his senses—the sharp tang
of bleach and lemon-scented cleaners, the floral perfume from Rental Car Girl
who eyed him like a piece of candy. Black coffee, donuts, fried fast food, and
under it all, the distinct musk of wolf.
She smelled damn
good. His wolf perked up, and his legs propelled him toward the empty baggage
claim, where one bright-pink suitcase covered in Hello Kitty stickers sat,
unclaimed, on the unmoving L-shaped conveyor belt. Her scent, stronger here,
socked his gut, and his gaze shot to the corner.
The chaos around
the woman stunned him silent. Large, paper coffee cup, half-eaten banana, and a
quarter of a powdered doughnut perched on a brown paper bag next to her. Crumbs
splattered the linoleum and the woman’s long-sleeved blue blouse in a thick
layer of white, sugary dust. On her other side, two pink garment bags lay like
corpses, along with a bubblegum-pink unzipped duffel as long as her
outstretched, denim-clad legs. Some of the bag’s contents—pads of drawing paper
and large swaths of fabric—protruded over the opening, the fabric splaying over
her legs in a rainbow-colored blanket. Her feet peeked out of the mess, encased
in sparkling pink UGGs. Good grief, sequins? She smacked her shiny boots
together in a poor imitation of Dorothy and bobbed her head from side to side
in time to some music only she seemed to hear. Her shoulder-length red hair,
the color of ripe dark cherries—his favorite fruit—gleamed under the harsh
airport lighting and curtained most her face from his view, save a pert nose
and small chin, both speckled with a generous amount of freckles.
throat, he stepped closer, but she didn’t flinch in surprise or look up. Her
attention remained on the tablet on her lap, the stylus between her pale,
freckled fingers swiping without hesitation over her screen. Her extreme focus
reminded him of his sister Lexi in one of her artistic frenzies. The
resemblance ended there.
While his sister
took after the rest of their tall, lean, and tan family, this woman seemed the
polar opposite—pale, petite, curvy, and freckled. His preferred type. A flicker
of interest stirred in his gut. Did she have those cute little spots on the
rest of her? Speckled fur when in her wolf form? His wolf huffed his interest
in finding out, but Jasmine the Oblivious Designer didn’t acknowledge his
faded, replaced by renewed irritation. She damn well should have scented and
noticed his wolf by now, and she should have waited at their agreed upon
rendezvous point. She should not be sitting on the dirty linoleum of an
airport, lost in her work. Didn’t she realize the dangers of ignoring her
himself right in front of her wiggly, booted feet. “Excuse me, J—”
“Sh.” She raised
her arm and flicked her hand in the universal get lost gesture.
He gaped at her.
Another wave of
her hand while her stylus streaked across her tablet screen with the other.
Nice voice. Low
and husky. Her attitude, on the other hand…. “But—”
“Go away.” Her
velvet voice carried a stubborn edge.
circumstances, he would’ve admired her strength. But he’d wasted copious
amounts of time hunting for the clearly inconsiderate and irresponsible female.
“Fine. Get your own damn ride to Los Lobos. Jasmine.”
About the Author:
Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and two feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. Her award-winning vampire series - The Tranquilli Bloodline - is available from Champagne Books. Jasmine Moon is her third werewolf story (and a stand-alone read!) for Decadent Publishing’s multi-author, shifter line: Black Hills Wolves.
When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to Joss Whedon’s TV shows and movies.