House of Sensual Romance ™

This is a place of comfort for everyone. I hope you enjoy my stories, and those of my friends. Let me know what you liked about them and what you didn't. You can also visit my website for more excerpts of my work. And all work on my blog is copyright protected.

Friday, December 26, 2008


Here's an excerpt of something new, a fantasy from the realms of my consciousness for your reading pleasure.

by LaVerne Thompson
copyrighted 2008


Alarr, the blond warrior, arose from his bed of furs, as he’d done every morning for more than a millennia. He washed himself with the now cold water left in the urn from last evetide, before entering the great hall of Asgard. Why he still made such absolutions was a mystery to all, and one more thing to set him apart from everyone else there.

Because he had been granted his own room, most thought him one of the favored ones. There were only a handful of rooms and not all were occupied, yet Asgard teemed with bodies. There were warriors spread in disarray throughout the hall. Most still slept on pallets, some were stretched out on benches, there were even more outside on the killing fields. Those were the ones who had lost and died during the battle last eve. They would be the last to rise and come in to break their fast. Alarr hoped this would be the day he would be vanquished, and at last find peace.

Unlike the men and women here, he did not fall in battle. He never had, not even against some of the lesser Gods who he often fought. He was the only mortal there who had not died, who had not been escorted to the Great Hall by a Battlemaiden. And many of the newly fallen resented it, but they soon learned; he could not be bested. The resentment turned to respect, though at times grudgingly. The warriors of the Ragnarok expected him to be their general, their leader, second only to Odin, in the final battle they all prepared for.

Alarr pushed aside one of the great hounds as he made his way toward a table. Admitting only to himself, he would have preferred not to be so favored by Odin, perhaps then he would be less hated by Fricka his wife.

Though she didn’t see it that way when she granted him eternal life, and took him to Asgard, until the time was right as she put it. So between Odin, who admired his skills as a warrior and took pleasure in sparing with him, and Fricka making sure he would not die before he’d served her purposes, he had no life. His only aim in life had been to train in all known fighting techniques and train even more. As the ages on Earth turned, either Odin or Fricka would bring men or women from current ruling lands with weapons and skills from their time to teach him, and broaden his skills. Until he was that perfect instrument of death. As modern humans would say, their ace in the hole. In all ways he became the man who could not die. Yet, even he knew in order to fulfill the destiny set by the Gods for him, he had to die to return to Earth.

“Alarr, come join us, brother.”

Alarr glanced up to see Bjorn beckoning him over. He had been in Asgard even longer than Alarr. He made his way over to his friends table, grinning as Bjorn pushed aside the man next to him who sat slumped over the table.

“Here have a seat.”

No sooner was he seated when one of the Valyerie’s approached him with a tall cold bottle of dark Guinness beer, and a platter of half a dozen pancakes, sausages and scrambled eggs. There would have been a time when it was a tankard of ale and a bit of mutton, but as time progressed so did they, yet so much remained the same.

He had been half-way through his meal when, the oak doors of the hall were pushed open by a wild gust of cold air that touched him to the marrow. If both Odin and his wife hadn’t just been seated at the dais, Alarr would have attributed the gust to the old Father. A hush permeated the hall; he wasn’t the only one to feel a sense of power coming toward them, even the great hounds sat as quite sententials. For this was not the type of power they had grown accustomed to, it felt different.

For the first time in long memory, the fine blond hairs all over Alarr’s body rose in anticipate. His time had come. I meet my death, this eve.

The figure that stepped through the open door was not what Alarr had expected, and at first thought he had been mistaken. But the woman of amber skin glanced around the hall until her eyes collided his. He never saw her move. One minute she stood framed in the doorway, a good twenty feet away from him. The next she stood on the other side the table directly in front of him.

“I come to lay you to rest this night, but alas I fear it will not be the rest that you seek.”

He had to struggle to understand her words, not because she had an odd accent, like what he sometimes heard coming from what the Valyries called the ‘idiot box’, but because it like the woman, was a thing of beauty. If the last sound he heard was her voice, or the last thing he saw her face, he would give up immortality with a smile on his. She was no Valyrie, yet she was a Battlemaiden. From her six foot height, to her toned sculptured body, and the handle of the sword strapped across her back, to the black leather outfit she wore like a second skin. A skin he immediately resented and envied.

When had he last had a woman? Even if he could remember he never had one like this.

Her hair was thick. Like a dark curly cloud that spread out from her head and framed a heart-shaped face, sitting softly down to lay around her shoulders. He wanted her to turn around so he could see how far down her back it hung. Even more he wanted to touch it. His hand started to rise; the need to feel it, to feel her was overwhelming. But he had not trained for millennia, to be the Gods champion, to lose control over his emotions by the mere sight of a woman. Even this one, and yet… His gaze returned to hers, eyes the color of coal with a touch of ash peered back at him.

He knew then, she was like him. She had not died to gain entrance to Asgard.

“I am Alarr.”

“I know who you are.”

“Then I would know the name of the beautiful instrument of my death.”

She smiled. It was as if the sun shined down on him from heaven. “It is good, you think I am beautiful. I do not bring you death, Alarr, but a chance at life. You are ready.”

She did not wait for his reply but turned around. He had no choice but to follow, he must. In truth he would follow this woman anywhere, even unto his death. His sword was already strapped across his back, it always lay within his reach. He stood up on the bench and leaped across the table striding purposely behind her. Her hair hung in a cloud to the center of her back, and the leather pants she wore cupped her rounded behind the way he longed to. Now was no time to think such things, and he knew it. Forcing his gaze upward he noticed the hilt of her sword on her back. It was ivory, unlike the gold of his, but it seemed to have matching runes to his. The same runes that were also carved onto the gold band he wore around his arm were carved into the skin of her biceps. He knew not what they meant.

The Gods present silently watched the exchange but there were whispers amongst the warriors. He heard movement around him and knew everyone in the hall was now wide awake. They would have an audience this day.

She stood in the middle of the courtyard, the warriors who had died the night before and had remained outside formed a half ring around her. When he stopped before her the warriors at his back closed the ring. They remained facing each other inside. Only one of them would leave alive. There would be no reawakening in Asgard for both.

He took his battle stance. Feet spread wide, weight on the balls of his feet, and removed his sword from its sheath. The glide of the metal out of the leather seamless, but for the sound of the disturbance of air, noiseless. Sword in one hand he raised the other, flexing his fingers, beckoning her forth. Slowly, she removed the sword at her back, and mimicked his stance.

“Come,” she said, with a casual flick of her wrist. “It is a good day to die.”

As before, one minute she was standing still the next she was a blurred motion. Only his training and battle hardened reflexes saved him. Before his eyes could even register her movement, his sword arm instinctively rose to deflect the blow. Immediately he twisted away from her continuing in his turn of a full circle, while bringing his blade down and low. Secretly proud and glad when she sprang backwards away from the deadly slice. Finally, an opponent worthy of his skills. He did not hold back. It would have dishonored them both if he had.

They spoke not with words, but with the dance of swords. And it was a dance of courtship. He could have her no other way than to show her how much she meant to him but to fight her with all of his strength. And blessed Gods she met him and matched him stroke for stroke. The Goddess of the night had come out and litered the heavens above them with diamonds from her hair, and still they fought. Neither had drawn blood.

But then something happened, they nolonger danced in sync. The sound of their clashes, while oddly harmonious and soothing before got off rhythm. It was as if he began to move in slow motion out of sync, while she moved faster. He spun, but as he pivoted away from her, somehow she moved even faster than he and appeared directly in front of him, her arm raised. He looked down at the metal imbedded in his heart and followed it to back her anguished blackened gaze. To eyes brimming with tears. He barely felt her grab the end of his sword, even near death he hadn’t let it go. She lifted it higher, his hazed mind finally registered what she was about to do, he released his hold on the sword hilt, but too late. The deed was done. She had plunged his sword through her own heart.

The roar of pain that rushed out of his mouth from the nether regions of his soul shook the halls of Asgard. Joined by steel, they dropped to their knees in a deadly embrace.

“No! No!” he cried. “Why die?”

“But I must. I wait for you.”

“Wait? Wait where? You will not be reborn. You die!”

“Remember. Find me.” She placed her lips over his, and with his last breath he inhaled her kiss, confirming as he died, as she was his death, she was also the love of his life.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


I thought I better wish everyone a Merry Christmas right now before I get anymore bogged down. I'm working on my final round of edits for HOLD ON with Red Rose Publishing. I'll have a release date for everyone soon. Thank you for all your support. And may you remember the reason for the season.


Tuesday, December 02, 2008


PROMISES won in the following Romance Erotica Connections categories:

Sweet Romance-Contemporary Rookie of the Year
Sweet Romance-Contemporary Short Story of the Year
Sweet Romance-Contemporary IR Rookie of the Year

Thank you to all who voted for me.


Thursday, November 27, 2008


There is always something to be thankful for. Wishing you and yours a safe and Happy Thanksgiving.

Myspace Graphics


Monday, November 24, 2008


Oh my God! PROMISES got a 4.5 out of 5 from Manic Readers.

Promises is an absolutely awesome story. It is a little old fashioned and ends the way everyone wants a romance to end. Isn't that refreshing though? This is a story of a young man and young girl that had great chemistry with one another when they were young. After twelve years has gone by they still have not settled for less.
This story is short but very well written. It is a story that each of us might relive at some point in our lives. The characters are intriguing and even though the ending is not a surprise it is the ending each of us would hope for. I would love to read more from this author.


Thursday, November 20, 2008


I signed another contract with Red Rose Publishing for HOLD ON, my contemporary romance with a touch of suspense. Here's the blurb and an excerpt. I'll post the release date as soon as I know it.

Hold On
By LaVerne Thompson

One phone call changed both their lives.
A real life knight in shining armor, except he isn’t in armor he’s in a suit. But the first time Lena Douglas lays eyes on Stephan Grayson that’s what he seems to her. He saves her from a violence that still haunts her nights, but at least he’s there to hold her should she wake. But the nightmare’s not over, it stalks them both now. Something from her past that will not let go.
But then neither will Stephan. He saved her once and he’s not about to let anyone, especially Lena stand in the way of what is happening between.
But will Stephan always be there to shield her from her past.

Hold On
By LaVerne Thompson

“911 Operator.”

“Hello…listen I’m at the corner of Broad Street and Denny Way. I’m looking into the second floor of a garden style apartment opened onto Broad, and it looks like there’s a…a robbery taking place.” Stephan spoke anxiously into the phone, his voice cracking mid-speak.

The emergency operator on the other end replied in a steady tone, “I’m dispatching a patrol car to the area sir. Stay on the phone with me. Are you one of the victims or do you know the people involved?”

“No, no it’s not me and I don’t know them. I’m in my car. Hang on, the light’s changing. I’m going to make a U-turn and park on the street so I can keep watch.” He ignored the car honking at him because he had cut in front of it. The building in front of him, and the woman in trouble his only focus. The sun hadn’t been down for very long, but the open lighted walkway in the three-story building allowed Stephan a pretty clear view.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to remain in the car,” the operator insisted in a forceful voice. “How many people are involved?”

“Two, I think. A man and a woman, he grabbed her purse and she tried to run. Hurry!” he cried.

“Help is on the way. Please try to stay calm.”

“My God!’ the man exclaimed. “He just hit her… she’s trying to fight him off. He kicked a door open and…he’s…he’s trying to drag her in!” His words were coming faster, rushing to get the information out. “She’s fighting back. I can’t just sit here watching this.”

“Sir, please do not leave your car,” the operator said firmly. “The person could be armed as well as dangerous. Wait for the authorities.”

“I’m sorry. I’m already at the building. Tell the cops, when they get here, it’s the second building from the corner, second floor, the door at the top of the stairs. I’m going to leave my phone on so you can listen in, but I’m putting it in my pocket.”

Without waiting to hear a reply, Stephan did just that.

As he ran up the stairs he could hear a woman’s screams. Why isn’t anyone trying to help her? He had seen three other doors with apartment numbers on this floor. Surely one of them was occupied. It didn’t matter, he was here and he wasn’t going to do nothing. Too late, he wished he’d taken the time to grab a tire iron from his car. But he had stopped rational thought as soon as he glimpsed the woman in trouble. He’d just have to rely on being in good physical shape. It wasn’t like he was a fighter, in truth he used his mind not his muscle. Now he may have to use both, and so far he hadn’t been using much of his so-called intelligence tonight. An intelligent person would have waited on the sidewalk and pointed the cops in the right direction.

Stephan stopped at the now closed door he had seen the man kick open. A scuff mark near the bottom of the panel confirmed he had the right place. He put his ear to the wood but could hear nothing. Turning the doorknob he found it unlocked, and cautiously pushed it open. He slipped inside leaving it slightly ajar so the cops could enter easily.

Muffled sounds were coming from the interior of the condo. Taking a step in the direction of the noise, ragged cries suddenly rent the air. A hallway, probably leading to a bedroom, stretched in front and to the right of him. There were no lights on, but the blinds were partially open, and the glow from a street lamp provided enough light to illuminate the small room.

Glancing to the left he spied a kitchen. His heart pumped blood into his system, adding strength to his resolve. Moving quickly, he headed there first for a weapon. As soon as he pulled a knife from the block on the counter, the wail of a siren whined from a distance, at the same time he heard a scream that curled his soul.

Throwing caution out the window he ran down the short hallway, fear setting his pace. Stopping in front of the only room he gripped the open doorframe. The scene unfolding before him chilled his blood.

The dimmed overhead light showed a woman lying face down on the bed, and a man in dark clothing sat on top of her, straddling her legs to hold her down. She kept screaming and bucking to try to throw him off, but he kept laughing, and using one hand to hold both of hers on her head while he ripped her blouse with the other. So engaged in his activity, he didn’t even hear Stephan behind him.

Stephan wanted to stick the sonofabitch with the knife in his hand. But he spotted an empty metal potpourri bowl on a stand near the door. He didn’t want to shed any of the man’s blood on the woman if he didn’t have to. He put down the knife and picked up the bowl. Using all of his strength, fueled by his anger, he smashed it against the side of the bastard’s head.

Like a bowling pin toppling over, the man fell off the bed onto the floor, hopefully out cold for a while. When the weight holding her down disappeared, the woman on the bed flipped over. She raised her tear streaked face and her eyes momentarily collided with Stephan’s before shifting to the man on the floor. As her gaze returned to his, fear flooded her beautiful chocolate colored eyes. She gasped, and backed up against the headboard.

Even with puffy eyes, tear tracks on her face, and a bruise on her toasted almond colored cheek her beauty still shone through. Stephan’s heart, which had been racing before, stopped in mid beat. Wide round eyes, had captured his attention first, set in an oval shaped face with a bow for a mouth, centered off with the cutest nose that started narrow but flared at the end, even more as he watched her take a deep breath.

He held up his hands, but realized he still held the bowl. He slowly placed it at the foot of the bed. “It’s okay,” he said trying to sound reassuring and non-threatening. “The police are on their way. I won’t hurt you.” He spoke in very soft clear tones, to try to calm her.

“Th…that man. He tried…” Her voice came out jittery, husky.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he said. “I’m not going to let him hurt you.” Stephan glanced down at the man stretched out on his back on the floor. “He looks unconscious, but maybe we should get out of here in case he comes to. The police are on their way.”

“Yes…yes, thank you.” She slid off the bed on the opposite side from where the man on the carpet lay. Her shirt had been ripped from the back up to the collar but remained in tact in the front. She wrapped her arms tightly across her stomach. Stephan took his eyes momentarily off the beautiful woman to check her attacker again to see if he had stirred.

The woman came around behind him and grabbed his hips in a death grip. He twisted to put his hand around her shoulder, and coaxed her to move forward in front of him. As he turned her toward the door, pounding footsteps echoed from the stairwell.

“The cops are here, you’re safe now. Let’s…” That’s as far as he got before he felt hands clench his throat. “Run!” he managed to gasp before turning to face his attacker.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

# 9


Thank you all for your support. And don't forget to vote for the REC awards.


Sunday, November 09, 2008


PROMISES by LaVerne Thompson has been nominated for the REC awards in several of REC's sweet sensual categories. I need your votes. Thank you for votes. See the categories below. (I copied the instructions from Bridget, we're in different categories, thank God. LOL)

You have until December 2nd to vote. In order to vote, you have to join the Romance Erotica Connection Yahoo group at They do have to approve you first before you can vote, however, approval is very fast. I was approved within minutes after joining. So please vote!

Sweet Romance - Contemporary Short Story of the Year

Sweet Romance - Contemporary ROOKIE OF THE YEAR

Sweet Romance - Contemporary COVER OF THE YEAR

Sweet Romance - Contemporary ROOKIE OF THE YEAR

Thank you


Saturday, November 01, 2008

My First Review!

I HAVE A MYSPACE page check it out.

WOW! My first review, it's from Crystal Hubbard, acclaimed author of several best selling books, CRUSH, BLAME IT ON PARADISE, MR. FIX-IT and several others had this to say about PROMISES...

I've read Promises three times now, and my only complaint about it is that it's too short!
I really like your voice. Your writing is lean and to the point, yet it still has such warmth and humor. That's a hard thing to do, and you do it very well.
Your character development is freakishly good. It's so economic but so on point that with one sentence, the reader is able to fully imagine your hero and heroine. The way you further flesh them out makes them even more real and endearing.
I very much enjoyed Promises.

Friday, October 17, 2008


For a little while this week, my debut story PROMISES hit the number 10 top selling spot over at Red Rose Publishing. How cool is that!


Thursday, October 09, 2008

Thursday, September 25, 2008


Whoo Hoo! My first publication, PROMISES, came out today!


Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Let's chat!

I will be at Savannah Chase's Authors Corner on Thurs. Sept. 25th from 8-9 PM EST. Talking about my debut release and other projects. Join me if you can.


Tuesday, September 16, 2008


My release date for PROMISES is September 25th. YEAH!

I'll provide the link as soon as it's up.


Monday, September 01, 2008


I hope everyone's had a great Labor Day! I'm happy to announce COMING SOON from Red Rose Publishing-

Can the promise of young love withstand the test of time?

Childhood friends, David and Mia know there is something special, something different about their friendship. But then David moves away and whatever that something is they never have the chance to explore.

Mia waits twelve years for David to come back to her, knowing deep in her heart that one day he would. She'd made him a promise the day he left, she would wait for him, and she kept it. Unbeknownst to her, he has also. He never forgets her. Not where it counts, in his heart. Now he has to prove it to her.

He had taken several steps before he saw her talking with her parents but she hadn’t seen him. Her back was to him, yet he would have known her anywhere, anytime.

From the rear she was perfectly proportioned. Above average height, she would only come up to his shoulders in her high heels. He noticed she still wore her hair in that corkscrew style but it was longer now, hanging well past her shoulders.

When they were kids he loved nothing better than pulling one of her dark curls and watching it spring back towards her head. He wanted to pull one now. His gaze left her hair and followed the back of her dress, admiring the open display all the way down to the top of the curve of her beautifully rounded butt. Her dress ended just below her thighs, giving him a view of long sleek toned legs. She always did have nice legs. Yeah, he wanted to do a lot more than touch her hair.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Hold On Chapter 2-by LaVerne Thompson

Sorry I had to delete this chapter. It's been revised and will be coming soon from Red Rose Publishing.

Saturday, June 28, 2008


Just a few things.

Dyanne Davis, author of The Critic, The Color of Trouble, Another Man's Baby, writing as F.D. Davis In the Beginning and so many other works, did an interview on me. Unbelievable! Check it out.

As some of you might know my short story Promises was signed with an epub that has gone out of business, but it's found a new home at Red Rose Publishing. I'll keep you all posted on a release date.

That's it for now, summer has me hopping.


Friday, June 13, 2008


My oldest graduated from 8th grade this week. She's starting high school in the fall. It's a really bittersweet time for me, and I can't even imagine her graduating from high school and going on to college. But then again, up until a few days ago I had a hard time imagining this day.

I looked at her in her graduation dress, which by the way we spent a month looking for, same thing with the shoes and her dress for the dance, and didn't recognize this young woman on the brink of maturity. This was my baby, but she is no baby no more, yet to me that is what she'll always be. My baby.

So for those of you going through this journey, congratulations.


Wednesday, May 14, 2008


This is just a reminder, all of my work on these pages is copyright protected. Please no poaching. Thanks.


Sunday, May 11, 2008