Selah March


Erotic paranormal romance (M/F); short novella

Available in electronic format only

Phaze Publishing

ISBN 1-59426-551-8

Purchase link


Zoey Ryder has made some stupid choices in her lifetime. Her latest has landed her alone and broke at an isolated highway rest area in the middle of the night. Faced with two very different men offering assistance, she needs to choose again.

Who will it be? The gorgeous, charming, golden-haired (and did we mention gorgeous?) truck driver, who seems to want to help her? Or the dark, scowling night manager with the creepy scar and the bad — if compelling — attitude, who plainly doesn’t like her? Her head tells her to pick the cutie with the viable means of transportation. Her gut, and other parts of her anatomy, feel differently.

When the rising moon triggers bloodlust in a beast…when the rules of reality ebb and flow like the tides…when the consequences of her choice go from bad to worse…from cheap thrill to deadly seduction…

…will Zoey find a way out of her erotic nightmare?



Zoey scrunched lower into the seat and listened. She’d already noted the double thunk of what had to be the back doors of the ambulance slamming shut, and the painful sob of its siren, followed by a second siren she assumed belonged to the cop’s cruiser. Then came the muffled sounds of male voices and fading footsteps.

Then silence…except for the radio, which kept pumping out songs that had first hit the airwaves before her parents were born — hell, before her grandparents were even married.

And that was Bobby Vee with ‘Devil or Angel,’ a song that zoomed to the top of the Billboard charts around Christmastime, nineteen-sixty…

Where was the trucker…and what was his name? It wasn’t like her to be so scatterbrained. And why was it so quiet? She peeked over the bottom edge of the door and out the window. The parking lot looked deserted.

“Next up, the Chiffons with their top-ten hit, ‘Sweet Talkin’ Guy’.”

Sweet talking…her blond trucker seemed pretty sweet, mostly. A little touchy about changing his radio station, and not so nice to that night manager. But it was hard to be civil to some people, and that guy had been asking for it, with his nosy questions and pushy…pushy…

She closed her eyes. Once again, the manager was right there, waiting for her in the shadows of her imagination, and yeah, he was pushy. Lifting her skirt, yanking at her underwear, shoving her back against the glass wall of his cubicle, and never saying a word or breaking eye contact. She felt like a rag doll in his arms as he reached for her leg, wrapping it around his hip so he could settle her sweet spot against his cock and grind…and slide…and finally ease himself inside…

She wriggled further down into the seat, feeling her dampened panties stick to the vinyl, and ran a hand over her face to wipe away a light film of perspiration. Talk about hot and bothered — and over the wrong guy. What was up with her, anyway? Here she was, waiting for what had to be the best-looking man she’d ever met, and all she could do was think about fucking some scar-faced creep with an attitude problem.

“It makes no sense. You’re just being stupid again. You need to–”

A sudden yawn caught her off-guard, interrupting her self-directed scolding. The mellow old tunes were making her sleepy. Her eyelids grew heavy as the saccharine harmonies filled the cab of the truck. And what was that weird buzzing in her ears? It intensified, threatening to drown out the music.

Clearly, she needed more caffeine. She lifted the can of cola to her lips to drink and froze.

“Stupid. You stupid, stupid little–” The words felt too big for her suddenly thick, lazy tongue to form.

“And now a few more words from our sponsors…”

“No.” She enunciated it clearly. Then she set the can down on the floor of the cab, reached up and slapped herself, hard, on each cheek. She peered out of the window again. The parking lot remained empty, along with the manager’s cubicle.

Slowly, carefully, she slid her hand beneath the door handle and pulled, half-expecting it to be locked, even though she could see it wasn’t. The door released with a thud that seemed to echo, and she cringed. She waited a second, then pushed it open just enough to swing her legs out and slide down to the pavement. She stood there a moment as a wave of dizziness splashed over her. The building on the other side of the lot swam in and out of focus. It looked a mile away, at least.

Still no one came. No blond trucker with his handsome, treacherous, cola-spiking face. No night manager whose surly attitude she’d welcome with sloppy kisses at this point. She pushed against the door until the latch caught with a quiet click.

And then she ran.


  • 4 Stars from JUST EROTIC ROMANCE REVIEWS: “…Moondance is a quick story packed with twists and tension… The characters were interesting and the interactions between Zoey, Lou and Johnny were packed with suspense and confusion…it did include one steaming hot sex scene.”
  • STELLAR REVIEW from ROMANCE REVIEWS TODAY: “At only 42 pages, Moondance packs quite a punch. Terror and eroticism go hand in hand as Zoey falls into a nightmare she might never awaken from. Of all the short stories in the Shivers line debut, Moondance has that edge of horror that will make readers’ pulses pound and send shivers down their spines –- read it with the lights on!” (Terrie Figueroa)
  • 4 ANGELS from FALLEN ANGELS REVIEWS: “Selah March opens this short story in the midst of panic and quick decisions, and does not let up there. Although this story is short, readers will be engrossed in Zoey’s crisis immediately. The character of Johnny is a wonderful contrast to the one of Lou. I enjoyed the wonderful addition of musical elements to this story. It only makes it more humorous and goes to show that Selah March has worked diligently to add subtle hints along the way…Readers will find a wonderful story within a small number of pages…”

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