Saturday, December 2, 2017

Ice Ice Baby By Ripley Proserpina

Since I only post once a month here with the divas, I wanted to share something a little...chilly. Where I live, we've already had a few snowfalls, and one actual snow day. 

So what could be better than a wintery read to keep you warm? Here's a little teaser from my recently released stand-alone romance, The Ice Bride. 

Norse mythology?
Ice giants?
Reverse Harem?


Check. Check. Check.
Enjoy!

The Ice Bride: http://amzn.to/2AwN7YC

Betha
Second hot guy's arms tightened around me when I pushed against his chest. “Seriously, I can walk.”
He didn't like that, and neither did the first, who stopped his brother. I assumed they were brothers. I mean… they were mirror images.
With a hand on his arm, First Guy began to speak rapidly, with Second adding an irritated rejoinder.
Since whatever language they spoke was incomprehensible to me, I imagined their conversation went something like this:
I'm picking up the chick.
Isn't she heavy?
No. Haven't you noticed I'm a manly man?
Actually, I have. Have you been working out?
I laughed and the two men stared at me in confusion. “Sorry,” I answered. “Go on.” I waved my hand at them. “Keep arguing.”
Second adjusted his grip on me. I sucked in a breath when he tweaked a sore spot. The guys stopped arguing for a moment before First began to point at me, his voice rising until he yelled.
It felt weird to lounge against the giant man while they argued. Perhaps I could sneak away, give them the chance to fight in private. That pine tree looked like a good place to take a nap.
****
My eyes opened, and I yelped. In front of me sat an older woman, her blue eyes piercing mine.
“Hello,” I greeted, holding out my hand. “I'm Betha.”
She eyed my hand and then ignored it. As she stood and moved away, I took advantage of being released from her laser glare to examine my surroundings. I was in a bed in a large open room. The mattress beneath me was soft. When I pushed to sit, my hands sunk into it like it was filled with down. Rocking from side to side, I realized it was. I groaned in relief then blushed when a chuckle erupted from the other side of the room.
The woman stood a small ways away, kneading dough on top of the stone countertop. Her attention went back to her task, and I went back to studying the room. Doors on one side made me think there might be separate bedrooms and a bathroom, or perhaps a stairway leading to a second floor. I canted my head to the side, listening for footsteps above me, but I didn't hear anything.
Was this the main living space? In addition to my bed, there was an alcove with wooden chairs bedecked in heavy cushions. Yellow light flickered over a rough-hewn table big enough to comfortably seat men like those who'd saved me. I counted six giant chairs, all of which reminded me of a fairy tale—Papa Bear chairs.
The entire room was a weird combination of old technology and new. There was clearly electricity, but there were no modern appliances. No refrigerator, no coffee pot. It was like I'd landed in some off-the-grid bed and breakfast.
 And the woman's clothes… they were beautiful, but simple. She wore a long, brown skirt, which may have been made of some sort of animal skin, and a beautiful sweater, dyed in shades of indigo. Even with the distance between us, I could see it was all handmade.
Oh God. What if this was a cult? I narrowed my eyes, watching her knead the bread, waiting for her to put roofies in it or something.
Suddenly, she rapped on the window in front of her, calling to someone outside. 
I swung my feet off the mattress and pushed myself to stand. Bad idea. The woman spun around to face me, then pointed from me to the bed.
“I'm fine,” I told her. I wanted to be on my feet. Lying down left me at a disadvantage. She strode toward me, pointing to the bed and me again. This close, I realized she was taller than me, but I hoped her age would work in my favor. I could use my weight, because even if she was taller, I was definitely more solid. “No. I'm fine.” I gripped the wooden headboard, just in case what I said wasn't true, and the woman threw her hands up. The frustration in her tone reminded me of First and Second, and I looked around. Where were they?
A blast of cold air answered my question. First and Second kicked the snow off their boots at the door while the woman talked at them. Thrusting a broom at First, who accepted it to sweep the snow out the door, she continued at times pointing at them and other times at me.
Second ignored the woman as he entered, then strode toward me. My mouth went dry, seeing all that muscle and purpose headed my way. My head was clearer now, and I could really take him in.
He was still tall, but inside, with chairs and a table to measure his size against, he was gigantic. He wore the same fur coat, which covered him from shoulders to ankle. It was a rough look, and I found myself wondering if he killed whatever animal he wore. It would make sense, given the rest of this place. He shrugged out of the coat as he walked, and I nearly moaned aloud when his body was on display. His shoulders and arms filled out the shirt he wore beneath it, and I swore to God, he had on buckskins.
Or what I imagined buckskins to be.
Maybe when he got a little closer I could pet him and find out.
Over his shoulder, I caught his brother staring at me, and I blushed even further, as he'd clearly seen my head to toe scan of his twin. Rather than be angry, he smiled. Then, with a move any all-guy review dancer would envy, peeled out of his coat.
Second growled at me, his voice lifting at the end and distracting me from his brother. He was asking me something. Was I hurt? Was I fine? Was I going crazy?
The answer to all these questions was maybe, so I shrugged and scrunched my nose. “I have no idea,” I answered, and he smiled.
Oh hell. He was even more beautiful when he smiled. A dimple appeared in both cheeks, and his eyes lit up. I had to curl my fingers into fists to keep myself from poking them into those dimples. Did First have dimples, too? I peeked at him, but he was busy talking with the woman.
Second began to speak, and I tried to catch the gist of what he was saying, swaying toward him. He even smelled better without the wind whipping his scent away, like snow and pine needles and this indescribable musk I just wanted to roll in. If I was a cat, I'd fall asleep in his shirts. My entire body ached as the scent filled my nose, and I took a step toward him before stopping short.
Second had gone silent, and the smile disappeared from his lips. His nostrils flared as he breathed in deeply, and then he was touching me. His chest pressed to my chest, hands digging into my back. I twisted a little when he came too close to the bruise on my side, and he immediately stepped away.
“No,” I whimpered. I wanted the heat and the smell back. My world shrunk as his brother appeared at Second's side and, yeah, I went a little crazy. The scent, the delicious overwhelming scent of them, was everywhere, and I had to get closer.
I snagged First's hand, pulling him closer and stood on my tiptoes to bury my face in his neck. The scent was stronger there, and it made my head spin. Lips touched my neck. I glanced over my shoulder to see Second's dark head tucked against me. Off-balance, I stumbled into First, who steadied me by wrapping his hands around my waist. His gaze bore into mine.
I lingered, studying him. Savoring him.  I traced his jaw with my hand, amazed at how far I had to reach, and how, despite my height and breadth, he dwarfed me. It was nice to feel small for once.
The door slammed against the interior wall, and then an unfamiliar voice burst out.

I didn't speak whatever language these guys did, but I knew a, “What the fuck?” when I heard it.

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