((Once upon a time I made this page as a joke troll account. It was pretty fun for a while there. But now the joke is sort of on me because I think I just sold a couple of romance novels with the ot...
((Once upon a time I made this page as a joke troll account. It was pretty fun for a while there. But now the joke is sort of on me because I think I just sold a couple of romance novels with the other half of the Dorothea De Salle equation under the name Thea De Salle so we're going to be bringing her shitty erotic romances to life. This is both a blessing and a curse on the /entire world/. FEATHERMOON WILL LIVE ON FOREVER.))
Faust Darkheart is Rayce Darkheart's twin sister. Born with a terrible power, she locks herself away in a tall, dusty tower in the crumbling ruins of the once great city of Milneas. With flowing white hair and a stoic demeanor, Faust spends her time with books and her imp, Felt Tip, for company. They are the only things that make her feel safe. The only things that understand the darkness that lurks just beneath her alabaster skin.
All of that is about to change when the handsome stranger with black hair stumbles up her steps. Wounded, covered in his lifeblood, Faust takes the gentleman into her sanctum and nurses him back to health. Addled and amnesiac, the man knows nothing other than his name: Fenn. Faust spends her days at his bedside, reading to him, attending to him, and when he's well enough to speak . . .
Arguing with him. They match wits day in and day out. It soon becomes apparent that Faust and Fenn are engaging in something much deeper than wordplay. This is passion the likes Faust has never known before. She is drawn body and soul to the blue-eyed man with the forked tongue who spins such honeyed promises. Her heart, locked in its cold chamber for so long, thrums hot at his touch.
Fate has drawn them together, but can love survive when Fenn discovers his true identity? Can Fenn pull his reclusive flower from her private garden and see her flourish in the sun?
Learn more in this spring's lead title from Sweetheart Press.
The green skinned god rose from the ocean like a tidal wave, droplets of water coursing over thick, bare muscles corded with wiry veins. His blue eyes glimmered like sapphires. Donette could lose he...
The green skinned god rose from the ocean like a tidal wave, droplets of water coursing over thick, bare muscles corded with wiry veins. His blue eyes glimmered like sapphires. Donette could lose herself in those eyes—could swim in their dewy depths until the tide swallowed her to drown her. As their gazes locked, she felt herself drawn into Thall's current, a ship in his maelstrom, sinking. Sinking.
Until the pig squealed.
Thall had rescued Milky from a certain drowning death. It was an enormous boar, yet Thall carried Milky like it was no strain at all. It must have been Thall's physicality, or perhaps he had borrowed strength from the stone elementals. Donette had come to know much of Thall's remarkable shaman-ness. How he communed with nature and came out wiser and more aware of the world around him for his company.
Thall deposited the black-skinned pig onto the beach. Milky squealed and shook off the excess water before bounding off toward the sun, leaving the orcs peering at one another. Thall with his long, red braids that nearly touched the top of his belt. Donette with her small smile framed by diminutive tusks. She raked a green hand through her red hair before shaking it out, letting the locks cascade over her shoulders like red silk.
"You are beautiful," Thall said.
Donette never thought to hear such words from Thall's mouth. He was a leader of men and powerful. After he had wrestled Dothfling the dragon into submission, he had retired to this quiet hovel, demanding his privacy. He'd needed time to heal from his ordeal. Donette had only followed him because of the friendship they'd forged on the field of battle, when she'd overcome the army of corrupted dragonspawn with her never-ending quiver of arrows. She'd dared to dream of him at times, yes, but she had always thought it a one way affection.
But the way he looked at her now, like she was the sun amongst his stars . . .
Tinkmaster Underspark lifted his gaze to the delicious little woman across from him. She was divine. Her pale skin contrasted with her black habit. She smelled sweet, like honey. He wanted to tear the white coif from her head and thread his stumpy fingers through her hair.
He'd thought about that hair for hours. What color it might be. How it might feel against his skin.
Sister Lyndle was forbidden fruit. He could never have her and yet he couldn't stop his thoughts from swirling in a maelstrom of desire regarding her person. He pictured them together, as man as woman, and it did things to him. Distracted him from his duties. He'd been alone in his workshop last night incapable of crafting even the simplest cogsprocket thanks to this righteous beauty. His hands shook just too damned much. He trembled like a kitten left in the cold.
"You should go, Lyndle," he snapped, hoping he put enough vitriol in his voice that she would leave his presence before he befouled her sacred vows with his rampant yearning. "I no longer wish to see you."
The words pierced Lyndle's large, pulsating heart. A heart so good she had delivered enough food to feed every orphan from Milneas to Loonglade to Logrimar. A heart so good she had swept every step in front of every door. Sister Lyndle alone had vanquished every demon with the power of her devotion to the Light.
She slapped her hand to her chest and groaned, eyes closing. How she wanted to cross the room to go to him, to heal this pain of his, but the distance was too big a chasm. It felt bigger than the enormous crater in Tanglethorn with all of the raptors, trolls, and parrots flapping around it. It felt bigger than the ocean that was Fifteen Needles.
"Tinkmaster, I . . . "
Underspark lifted his hand as if her dulcet tones had struck him a mortal blow. "Go now, Lyndle. Before I make a fool of both of us."
Lyndle's knees went to jelly. He'd never before used her improper name.
Light help her, she liked it.
- ONE GNOME'S KISS COMING THIS SPRING! SWEETHEART PRESS
Alfurion eyed Lilithias across the table. She was so young compared to him, but so devastatingly strong. A thing of muscle and beauty. Despite the scars left on her face, she was perfect. No one under...
Alfurion eyed Lilithias across the table. She was so young compared to him, but so devastatingly strong. A thing of muscle and beauty. Despite the scars left on her face, she was perfect. No one understood her the way Alfurion did. No one saw the way she ached, the way she trembled when he held her in his arms.
He'd been a beacon for his people. A leader. And after Myrande was gone from his life, swept off into the arms of his evil brother Diddilan, he'd had a crater-sized hole in his middle. Until Lilithias walked through the door, that was. He'd known the moment he set his golden eyes upon her that she was the missing puzzle piece. That she was a pitcher filling his glass with all the things he'd denied himself after Myrande's departure from the Temple of the Lune.
It didn't hurt that the beast spirits inside of him hungered for her. The bear felt safe in the wake of her martial skill. The cat loved her grace. And the seal wanted nothing more than to draw her into the Eldersil oceans and swim with her, water rushing over their naked bodies. Her legs wrapped around seal's middle, cradling his porpoise head to her lean bosom.
"I must be gone to the dream, Lilithias," Alfurion said, letting the ache spill into his voice. "I will long for you all while I am there, but Treenarius has a sacred duty that I cannot dismiss. The world's care rests upon my broad, well-toned shoulders."
There were no words. There was only her sob before she rushed him, eight-foot tall body colliding with his, her hands needily grasping at the sides of his kilt. One kiss became two kisses as she walked him backward, to the bed they'd shared that very morning, the furs still smelling of their skin.
She didn't know what to say. To see both of them peering at her, so loving, hands extended to her. They understood her, accepted her. And somehow, some way, they'd learned to love each other as well.
Ells went to the elf first, tilting her head back for his kiss. His big, warm body rumbled all over with a purr, the shapeshifter's power trying to stretch out that purple skin. It was a balloon ready to burst with his magic, and yet somehow, that magnificent panther lord loved her. Furburis had chosen her as his mate, and he treated her like a delicate thing—his most precious gift.
She reached up to stroke his ears, fingers playing over the delicate arches of his sensitive kaldorei ears. This wasn't his true skin, but it was the skin he chose to use to claim her as his mate, and she grinned against his mouth feeling the trembling purr warbling up from the barrel of his chest.
"Love ya," Ells whispered, and Furburis nodded, pulling away from her to tug away his leather shirt. Exposing hard, rippling abdominal muscles above his kilt. She ran her fingers over his chest and hissed in delight at the sizzling contact.
And then hissed again. Rev was here, after all, and he tugged her back against his chest, lifting the black hair away from her neck and drizzling kisses to her shoulder. He was warm, too, and so hard all over, his body one big muscle thanks to years of his training. She felt so small next to them, between them, and so very safe.
"I'm here. I'm loved. This is home," she thought. And then she didn't think at all as the kisses spiraled one into another.
She dropped the gun to the floor and pulled her blouse wide, her purple flesh shimmering like silver-kissed amethysts in the candlelight. Her head tilted forward and her pale hair coiled around her l...
She dropped the gun to the floor and pulled her blouse wide, her purple flesh shimmering like silver-kissed amethysts in the candlelight. Her head tilted forward and her pale hair coiled around her left horn. She wouldn't look at him, her shame a tangible, terrible presence suffocating both of them. Filling the room like a monster.
He understood why when he looked down. Beneath her clothes, she was bandaged, her ribs bound with cloths that had seen better days.
"This is what I have to show for it. This!" The draenei woman pointed at her midsection, pretty eyes dewing with unshed tears. "This is what our love has given me, Lyolil. Regret and broken ribs. I told you this was too hard. Love across factions is pain. A pain like someone stabbing you in the gut."
The Sin'dorei magister took in a sharp breath. That his beloved Reva could have been so poorly handled hurt his heart. He crossed the room to gather her in his arms. She burst into tears, sniffling into his red hair, and he stroked her soft head, all the while crooning words of love.
"I will find them, my beloved. I will find them and they will suffer for what they have done to you," he promised. He was so overcome with emotion, his voice cracked, his body trembling with barely-contained fury.
Reva pulled back to peer at his beautiful face. At the slant of his jaw, his wide lips. She dashed away her tears to cup his cheeks in her palms before leaning in to kiss him with all of the passion burning in her belly. Her hooves scuffed across the floor as she pressed her form against his, heat to heat.
"Together. We'll find them together."
Lyolil nodded and dropped his hand to the small of her back, his nose nudging against hers. "Yes. Together. Forever, my Reva."
Acherion Sunblessed is a holy man forced to commit an unholy act. On the run from his home city of Silvermoon, Archerion must defend the life of his sister Arnise against all odds. For years he toils ...
Acherion Sunblessed is a holy man forced to commit an unholy act. On the run from his home city of Silvermoon, Archerion must defend the life of his sister Arnise against all odds. For years he toils to keep himself and his young charge safe, traveling the world as a combat healer and seeing far too much bloodshed in his time. Happiness is a distant memory, in its place holy dedication.
Archerion never gives himself time to consider trifling matters of the heart. That is, until he is introduced to Tabitha, a tempestuous beauty from the north. With blood red hair and skin the color of cream, Archerion is drawn into a passionate haze that wars with his devotion to the Light.
Tabitha cannot resist this golden haired Adonis suppressing so much in the name of duty. She vows to win his heart, and embarks on an arduous pursuit that finds the two fighting and loving in equal measure.
"A triumph in the genre. Romance at its finest," says Lola CrabTwaddles. "Tangled limbs under a tartan? I'll take two," says Margo CheeseWhistle.
Coming this summer from Sweetheart Press! View Less
For three years, Race Darkheart and Alloria's love burned bright. Until the unthinkable happened—separation at the hands of the Twilight's Hammer when Race is captured off the shores of Westfall.
Race is snared by the Twilight priestess Crasyldra. The red haired seductress twists his mind, creating in Race a passionate captain of her dark army. Race loses his former identity as he becomes Crasyldra's fiercest champion. His days are filled with a terrible, shadowy crusade. His nights are filled with silk sheets and leather bindings.
Alloria's skills are great, but she is one elf against a tide of evil. Alloria must go under cover, infiltrating the ranks of the Twilight's Hammer so she can reunite with her lost love. Can Alloria slay the villains separating her from Race? Can she overcome the memory of seeing Crasyldra in Race's arms? And can she resist the charms of Lord Blackkiss, a seductive human ally in her quest to retrieve Race?
STOLEN LOVE is an exciting romance adventure called, "Hotter than a Sholazar summer" by L'ree Lovelace and "More wicked than a night in a Booty Bay brothel," by Norani Tickledust.
Patrons. We would like to clarify for all our dedicated readers that we are in no way responsible for the new book on shelves titled DEVILSAUR DADDY MADE ME GAY. It has Miss De Salle's name, but it ...
Patrons. We would like to clarify for all our dedicated readers that we are in no way responsible for the new book on shelves titled DEVILSAUR DADDY MADE ME GAY. It has Miss De Salle's name, but it is not part of her body of work and our solicitor's at Sweetheart Press are currently investigating the matter.
Faust Darkheart's adopted daughter, Lex, is a little brash and a lot defiant. Her fiery temper is only matched by her silky mane of red tresses. Fearless, sometimes foolhardy, the girl leaves the sanc...
Faust Darkheart's adopted daughter, Lex, is a little brash and a lot defiant. Her fiery temper is only matched by her silky mane of red tresses. Fearless, sometimes foolhardy, the girl leaves the sanctuary of Milneas to wander the world, her heart restless. But for what? It's a question that plagues little Lex when she's tucked away with her most-beloved pet, Fiz-Fiz the yappy dog. A loving home, a wonderful new life, and yet Lex knows something is missing—something spurs her toward a new destiny.
What she doesn't know is somewhere, across the world, feeling the same is a boy with hair the color of sand and eyes so blue, the ocean weeps in envy.
Rennick Neally wants little to do with the civilized world. More comfortable in the wild jungles patrolling the coastline of the tropics than taking tea with the queen as his Aunt Snow prefers, he travels with only his gun for comfort. It isn't until fate brings him face to face with a young, foul-mouthed temptress from the north that he understands what he's been waiting for.
Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, Rennick fights to protect this vixen from the world, yes, but herself, too. Can he tame the wild banshee in her soul? Will her forked-tongue flay him once and for all? Or can they overcome their differences so he can steal this WITCH GIRL'S HEART.
Sweetheart Press is pleased to announce our teen romance line, FIRST KISSES! Coming this fall, the story of one impetuous witch girl with hair the color of fire and one dashing would-be hunter whose ...
Sweetheart Press is pleased to announce our teen romance line, FIRST KISSES! Coming this fall, the story of one impetuous witch girl with hair the color of fire and one dashing would-be hunter whose blue eyes rival the Stranglethorn Seas.
Yassi Stormhugger sucked on her candy, the lollipop making a loud POP noise as it exited her rosebud mouth. Those plush lips were as red as the strumpet crimson of her hair, her body lithe but not wi...
Yassi Stormhugger sucked on her candy, the lollipop making a loud POP noise as it exited her rosebud mouth. Those plush lips were as red as the strumpet crimson of her hair, her body lithe but not without its curve. As she stood, her clothes tightened.
And he felt himself tighten. Down there.
Dor's body responded to her. Every time. It rocked through him like a hurricane, making the world jolt around him. He'd known many women, his life one illicit mattress tumble after another, but there was something about this damned girl that he couldn't shake. She was an unquenchable thirst. He was a man in a desert and she was his oasis.
He flexed his hands, fingers aching to thread through that wild mane. Aching to touch soft, silky skin and explore the valleys of her womanhood. But he couldn't. Not here. She didn't know he watched her. He should announce himself, make it obvious that he was in the courtyard, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her.
Yassi pulled the lollipop from her mouth and stretched, arms over her head. From behind the fountain came a sharp intake of breath. She spun, her hand going to her hip where a weapon ought to be after she'd valiantly defeated the evil dragon witch, but she'd left her sword next to the phylacteries of the lich army she'd single handedly vanquished.
"Hello? Who's there?"
Dor cursed. He hadn't meant to make a noise, but he was reduced to a green boy in her presence. He cleared his throat as he stepped out into plain sight. His hand swept down his robes, massaging away wrinkles that were not there. His blond head tilted to the side before he smiled at her, green eyes narrowing.
"I didn't mean to startle you, Yassi."
Seeing him here, looking so elegant and refined, one eyebrow lifted in amusement, Yassi's core trembled. The fighting, the slaying, the valiant adventuring – none of it scared her the way this man scared her. The idea of his touch. The memory of that one night they'd shared in that hovel in Winterspring.
The goblin arcanist climbed onto the table to look the tauren in the eye.
"It was impossible," they said.
"He hurts from the loss of his family. He never recovered," they said.
Lacie wasn't convinced. When she looked into Verdant's gaze, she saw the longing there. She saw the liquid want glimmering in his eyes. The tears he'd shed had been like diamonds. She wanted to collect them and string them on a necklace to wear as her own. To remind herself of how far he'd come beneath the sunshine of her affection.
She tossed her head to the side, the red hair falling around her face like a waterfall. Her skin was the green of good jungle canopy, and she reached up to run her lacquered fingernails down the column of her throat. He watched, transfixed, staring at the pulse pounding there. Desire like he had never known raced through his bulky body.
His muscular arms swooped out to gather her close, crushing her to his leathers. Her cheek slid over his shoulder, over the warm brown fur there as her fingers reached around to knead at his back. Verdant closed his eyes and swallowed a sob.
This was what his shattered heart had longed for from the moment she'd smiled at him in Logrimar. This was the green pastures of the ancestors, the promiseland of the Earthmother. Being with her, near her was as close to perfect as the bull had ever known.
And he would cherish it always.
"Lacie, I love you. I have loved you for as long as I have known you," he professed.
Lacie gasped and clutched at his fur, tilting her head back, her bulbous goblin nose pressed to his muzzle. She smiled, her heart slamming inside of her chest like a pounding drum. "Then kiss me, Verdant. Kiss me until I'm breathless."
He was the red-haired giant of the north. The fiercest soldier in his company. His soul was as scarred as his flesh. She could see the ferocity in his green eyes, that glint of steel that mirrored the glint of the weapon clenched in his fist. Two days worth of stubble grizzled his jaw, the cigarette clenched between teeth so white, they reminded her of pearls.
Pearls on a man so hard was strange, but then, this whole thing had been strange.
She was southron born—everything he claimed to hate, and yet there he stood clad in his armor, darkening her doorstep. She'd told Brick Sweetsong she didn't want him to come back to her unless he could commit his heart forever. Wren had let him go, and just like the poem said, "if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it was meant to be."
She resisted the temptation to dream that his return meant something. But hope. Damned hope. Wren's heart skipped a beat in her chest, her breath coming harder just seeing him there, glowering. And then smirking. The corner of his lip lifted in that half-smile of his she'd come to adore.
"Lass," was all he said.
Wren was a holy soldier and holy soldiers valued their composure above all else. But with the man who'd stolen her heart like a brigand in the night come back to her, composure be damned. She reached up for his cigarette and tossed it aside before pulling him down into a soul-searing kiss. Northern and southern didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was mingled breath and kisses that curled her toes. She threaded her fingers through that wild, untamable red hair, thinking how much like the man those tresses really were.
Brick lifted a gauntlet to gently cradle her dark head. This feisty southron lass, someone he never wanted to love had taken his heart in her hands and pulled it close to her own. He wouldn’t fight anymore. This was where he belonged.
Though she was short, she was mighty, and she hefted her sword in the air, letting the sun strike the gilt along the pommel. The family jewel embedded in the crosshatch glinted red like a dragon's ey...
Though she was short, she was mighty, and she hefted her sword in the air, letting the sun strike the gilt along the pommel. The family jewel embedded in the crosshatch glinted red like a dragon's eye.
"By all that is holy, I shall avenge you, my love!"
She drove the sword point down into the ground and crumpled in a heap, her head falling into her hands as she wept. Her silky blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders to pool in the grass. She wept for the man she'd loved and lost. For the sinner she'd tried to redeem. Had she known three days ago that the evil Lord Robberton would strike Toledath down in a fit of jealous rage, Lilianna would have stabbed Robberton through his shriveled, black heart.
But she hadn't known and now she would live the rest of her days with regret. Regret that her beauty was so great as to send men into fits of violence.
Her shoulders heaved with her sobs. And then the wind came, blowing over her huddled form, caressing her with its warmth.
"My darling," a voice said from behind her. It was him! Her dear, sweet, fallen Toledath, and Lilianna lifted her fists to the heavens, bellowing her rage. Why was she mocked so? Was she not virtuous enough? Had she not prayed enough?
"No, no. My darling, I am here! Do not lament!" Lilianna felt herself picked up from the ground and cradled against a familiar chest. She lifted her tear-stained face up only to look upon the perfect countenance of her beloved Sin'Dorei lord with his silvery blond hair.
"Toledath, but how!" She exclaimed.
"I could never leave you, beloved. My soul is yours. And while Lord Robberton tried to cast me down, the Light lifted me in its gentle embrace and brought me back to you. I have forsaken my evil warlock ways and will forever serve goodness." His lips swooped down to capture hers, his hand threading through her hair and tugging gently, tilting her face back so he could deepen their sordid kiss.
Feathermap is a community website for the World of Warcraft Feathermoon-US server. We provide in-character social networking, guild and character profiles, personal and group galleries, and ways to write and share fiction. By providing a resource to the RP community we seek to encourage IC and OOC interaction, and foster a vibrant and engaging environment for in-game RP.