View Full Version : 1920's Roaring Romance

June 4th, 2008, 01:19 PM
A touch of twenties style, a dabble in magic, Enchant the Dawn (http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419915536) has a bit of it all!

Now available at Ellora's Cave:

Enchant the Dawn By Elaine Lowe
New York tough with a backbone from the backwoods, Sophia Hunter is a properly cynical flapper, swigging down the bathtub gin and dancing from dusk 'til dawn. She doesn't have any use for love.

But a whimsy to walk through Central Park on a cold spring morning changes her life completely. There she meets Daron West and his ragtag family, greeting the dawn on the first day of spring. Daron is a Magi, raised amongst gypsies and on a search for his life mate, the powerful woman with whom he is paired by destiny.

When their eyes meet a lifetime of memories is unleashed, along with enough heated lust to melt half the snow in New York City. Will Sophia succumb to her calling and embrace the powers that she's shunned for so long? Daron will have to break through her inhibitions and his own in order to become one with the power they share.


She knew why Alan had been so tickled about the seating arrangements. Daron had his arm tightly around her waist and she could feel his breath hot on her neck, his erection pressing into her derričre with every bump in the road. Her long skirt whipped about in the wind and she gripped onto it with one hand as the other wrapped around his broad shoulders. Really, it was almost like she was in some cheap novel, riding sidesaddle like some hoity-toity lady fair. It would have been much safer and more satisfying, to simply straddle the man and throw her arms around his neck. Then she could have ground her pelvis against his and gotten some relief from the unrelenting pressure of her need.<o:p></o:p>
The sounds of the street, the raucous horns, the noisy streetcars, the shouting of newsboys and the whirring of the engine on Ol’ Nellie faded into nothing as she listened to the rough sound of their mingled breathing. Every bump, every swerve seemed timed to throw her against him so she could feel every rigid of muscle in his chest and imagine those hard thighs she kept slipping across inside sliding between her own.<o:p></o:p>
“I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p>
She blinked, sure for a moment she had imagined those words. She turned her head, diving again into those green eyes to try to ascertain if she’d heard him right.<o:p></o:p>
He looked serious and just as incredibly tense as she was. “I would have come earlier but somebody had to watch Hester and Tommy ended up getting piss drunk in a bar in Hell’s Kitchen and I had to go bail him out and the new tenant in…” He trailed off as she began laughing.<o:p></o:p>
“Do you always give your women such excellent excuses when you decide not to look them up?”<o:p></o:p>
He gripped her chin in his gloved hand, forcing her to look him dead in the eye. “It was not a decision, ashavi. It was damn inconvenient.” The look in his eyes was fierce, demanding her understanding. She could almost hear his voice in her mind, If it was up to me, I’d have chased you down that day and we’d still be locked in your flat.<o:p></o:p>
A hard swerve around a plodding horse-drawn ice cart almost threw her out of the car entirely and she felt Daron’s hands settle around her waist as her body lifted up. Before she could think to protest, he’d settled her knees on either side of his hips. Her arms came up around his neck and she found herself sliding, ever so slowly, down the incline of his thighs toward his not inconsiderable erection. At a stoplight somewhere on <st1:place w:st="on">Park Avenue</st1:place>, she was jammed full against him, feeling the hardness of him through all the layers of damnable clothing between his cock and her throbbing clit. Somewhere on the sidewalk some stalwart matron gave a shocked gasp at such a scandalous position in broad daylight but neither Daron or Sophia heard much of anything.<o:p></o:p>
His eyes were that stunning vibrant green. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be burned or drowned by them, or simply consumed. She knew she wouldn’t survive the journey unscathed. His hands still held her waist and she suddenly felt very fashionably small. They could not help but rub together, the bumpy ride pushing them together in enticing ways.<o:p></o:p>
She was so close to coming she was almost embarrassed. She realized for the first time since she’d seen him last month during that bitterly cold spring sunrise, she didn’t ache. At least, not the usual way. The pounding, unrelenting headache that that followed her into her dreams and allowed not a moment’s real rest for her spirit was gone. It was replaced by his presence and her body’s demand that she meld herself to him and cease all pretense at existing alone.<o:p></o:p>
Her hips moved in shy little circles, as though hoping that her deliberate movements would get lost in the bumping and jostling of the road. The flutter of his eyelids and his low sexy groan meant that she was fooling no one, not even herself. He answered with demanding thrust of his hips up against hers through the thin barriers of his trousers and her bloomers. Her hands twitched on the back of his neck, wanting to dive between their bodies to release the ties that held them apart and feel the wet slide of him inside her. She wanted to ride him in the middle of <st1:place w:st="on">Park Avenue</st1:place>, the world and all the tens of thousands of beings pressing at her soul be damned. She wanted to come so hard she couldn’t feel her toes. She couldn’t feel anything at all but the promise sweet release that she knew instinctively would happen once they came together.<o:p></o:p>
His breathing was hard, the muscles of his neck rigid under her fingertips while he fought to control the same instincts that drove her. His eyes opened wide and he looked almost alarmed that he was unable to find that deep well of calm that she’d always sensed in him. She was just a mite bit proud that she could drive him just as mad as he drove her. She wondered if he’d been suffering half as much as she had, knowing that he was somewhere in this city wanting her made the situation more bearable. Knowing she had the power to drive him over the edge was almost as good as actually doing the driving. Almost.<o:p></o:p>
She never did get to choose whether or not to make him crack and fuck her right and proper in the rumble seat of that Packard. Instead, with a squeal, the car came to a shuddering stop somewhere around One Hundred Eighteenth Street. The driver’s door opened and Alan popped out in a mad rush to get around the car to open June’s door but he stopped with his mouth open wide enough to catch a baseball when he took in Sophia’s current position perched atop Daron. She pulled back and made a great show of rearranging her skirts as Alan started to whoop his laughter.

Email me with comments or questions at elalowe@gmail.com

Elaine Lowe- Love is the Ultimate Magic

Georgie Lee
June 4th, 2008, 07:51 PM
The 1920s is a great time period that doesn't get enough attention.