Monday, April 30, 2012

RIDING RED by Nadia Aidan

RIDING RED by Nadia Aidan

Book three in The Downing Brothers Series

Stuck in close quarters with the two wickedest, wildest Downing brothers of them all, Teresa West had better prepare herself for the most sensually erotic experience of her life...

Ever since her best friend married one of the infamous Downing brothers, Teresa West cannot seem to shake aggravating playboy, Jeff Downing - the third eldest and undoubtedly the wickedest and wildest of all the brothers. Just because his brother now lives on the neighbouring ranch with her best friend, doesn't mean Jeff Downing has any business being in Hockley, Texas so often. He's been in hot pursuit for a year now, and Teresa is starting to think Jeff either doesn't have a job, or he really needs a hobby - one that doesn't include her.

Jeff Downing would argue that no matter his job or hobby, his only purpose right now is to convince the fiery, stubborn redhead to let loose and live a little. His first order of business? To get Teresa West into his bed and keep her there, but she's not being as cooperative as he'd hoped. Actually, she's not being cooperative at all. She's spent a year ducking and dodging his advances. It's time for some drastic measures...which is why he's decided to enlist some help.

When a hurricane rips through the small town, Teresa has no choice but to seek shelter at Cottonmouth Ranch with the two youngest Downing brothers. She knows she will have to fend off Jeff's advances...but she never expected to have to battle her attraction to his brother, Jason, as well. Stuck in close quarters with the two Downing brothers, Teresa had better prepare herself for the most sensually erotic experience of her life.

Jeff Downing has pulled out all the stops and he won't be satisfied until he has Teresa West in his bed...where he plans to ride the red-haired vixen all night long. And once Jeff finally claims Teresa, he has no intention of letting her go...if he can convince her that she can trust him with her heart.



By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.
 If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
 Copyright © Nadia Aidan, 2012
 All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: Riding Red

Hard, hot, heart—pounding sex.
Those were the first, and sometimes only, words that came to mind when Teresa thought of Jeff Downing—an impressive six-foot-four package of hard, hot solid muscle who inspired every wicked, sensuous fantasy she could imagine. And when it came to Jeff Downing, she imagined many. Simply put, he made her wonder about, long for, crave a hard, hot, heart—pounding endless night of dirty, sweaty sex.

Teresa grimaced at her body's wanton reaction. Just thinking about the arrogant, obnoxious, jerk of a man made her body tingle, so no surprise that it was even worse when he was there in the flesh. Every time he came to visit, which nowadays was quite frequently, she experienced a shameful yearning for a man she loathed, a man she swore she couldn't stand. Yeah right. She snorted. If she loathed him so much then why was it just the faint sound of his car powering down the road had her pussy throbbing with anticipation? Why had her nipples budded tight the moment she'd recognised that all too familiar and quite distinctive mechanical purr in the distance?

As the vehicle drew closer, the dim hum soon gave way to the pulsing, pounding roar of a V8 engine, and even before the car rolled into her best friend's driveway, Teresa West knew it was Jeff Downing.

Sleek, black and silver, trimmed in chrome, Jeff's late model Ford Mustang was every bit as brazen and bold as its owner. With narrowed eyes, she watched it crawl along the dirt road until finally it came to a halt before her.

Squinting against the bright glare of the afternoon sun, her next breath dragged slowly through her chest when the driver—side door swung open. Steel toe leather boots—expensive boots, Armani boots—hit the ground first. Who wears Armani to a ranch? Teresa shook her head, because she knew exactly who would do such a thing, and to her annoyance she had to admire his grit, because he was the only man who could get away with it, and he knew it.

Without a doubt, Jeff Downing was a one of a kind—authentic and original. And as he unfolded his densely muscled frame from the car to flash a wicked grin her way, Teresa could only glare back, because it was obvious to all that Jeff Downing indeed believed he was without equal. And while she would never, ever admit it to him, she had to begrudgingly concede...he was right.

Hidden behind black aviator shades were the striking ocean blue eyes, so clear that every time she looked into them, she could feel the waves cresting within her belly. As if he could hear her thoughts, he removed his glasses, and a shudder trembled through her as he snared her with those mesmerising eyes.

He marched towards her on those long, powerful legs of his, blocking out the sun which now beat against his wide back. Her breathing grew harsh as burnished amber rays caressed sun-bronzed skin, bringing highlights to his coal black hair.

He was breathtaking, he was a sinful, erotic temptation—
The slamming of the car door captured her attention and she glanced up just as another man—equally handsome and sensual, although not as darkly provocative as his older brother—climbed out of the car.

Jason Downing.
The youngest of the four Downing brothers.
Although, they all favoured one another, his resemblance to Jeff was so similar they were often mistaken for twins.

But twins they definitely were not. And her body was well aware of this.
While more practically dressed, Jason Downing exuded an alluring, enticing air of sexual confidence in faded jeans and a casual black button-down shirt that was open at the collar. He smiled at the same time he removed his sunglasses, and while she appreciated the handsome, charming man before her, she was all too cognisant of the fact that her belly didn't twist and churn when he flashed that dimpled grin, and her knees didn't shake in response.

Her stupid body only seemed to react so...stupidly to Jeff Downing and in such inappropriate, appalling ways—the knowledge of which irritated her to no end, causing her to lash out at its source the moment he came to a halt before her.

"I actually thought BJ was exaggerating, but I'm starting to believe you really don't have a job."

Much to her annoyance, Jeff's sensual lips curled higher into that classic, crooked grin that made him appear as if he had not a care in the world, and always sent a tremor racing down her back.

"No need to get all fussy, Red. 'Cause, if you missed me, darlin', all you had to do was just say so and I would have been here sooner."

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" she fumed, even as her belly fluttered from the sound of his deep, Southern drawl washing over her. "My hair is red, my name is Teresa, so use it. And I hate to shatter that big ego of yours but no one around here misses you, not when you're here damn near every other week."

He shrugged. "What can I say? I have interests to protect." And Teresa knew exactly what he meant by 'interests', but even if she would have been slow that day, the wolfish grin that spread across his face was telling. Even more so was the slow slide of his gaze along her body, which lingered for far too long on her rounded breasts.


Sunday, April 29, 2012

MATTHEW'S RETURN by Stacey Espino

MATTHEW'S RETURN by Stacey Espino

Wolves of Climax Book Three

Life in Climax is anything but ordinary. Cassidy does things with her four men she only ever dreamed of, but as the days pass, she craves more than just sex. She wants the whole happily ever after with the men who quickly capture her heart.

Cassidy slowly feels like she belongs in Climax, but something is still missing. Her lovers continually remind her she'll have to accept Matthew in her bed if he returns. She's ready to include him, anxious to experience five men, but what if he wants nothing to do with her?

When she goes in search of her half brother, the Rockford miners lead her into a trap. It's too late to follow Garret's warnings about leaving the mine alone. Now she's faced with madmen and surrounded by wolves. Will her men be able to rescue her before it's too late?


Adult Excerpt

“Good girl,” said Patrick. She reached out and ran her hand over his broad, rounded shoulder as he lowered in front of her. Were they all shirtless? She wished she could see his tats, his ripped muscles, but her hands would have to be her eyes tonight. He unzipped her jeans and then tugged the material down her hips. She instinctively wanted to stop him or pull away, but knew she had to open up and accept them. This was exactly what she wanted despite being outdoors in the chilly northern air. It didn’t matter that wolves lurked only minutes away in the thick woodlands behind the diner. Somehow the presence of her miners made everything okay. “I can’t wait to taste your little pussy. I could smell your arousal from across the field.”

They said the oddest things, but turned her on nonetheless. Once he plucked her panties off each leg, he parted her thighs slightly and delved in. His facial hair prickled her fair skin, but his hot, lively tongue made up for the assault. She felt herself grow wet again as he ate her pussy, licking her entire labia before settling over her engorged clit.

Her shirt was tugged off her body, her hair fanning down over her bare back. As Patrick continued to bring her closer and closer to orgasm with his mouth, the other three men converged on her. She didn’t even know who was who now, too enraptured to care. A crushing kiss parted her lips, but this time it was welcome. She wrapped her arms around his neck while another set of lips suckled her right tit. Hands were everywhere, some soft like the brush of feathers, others rough and unforgiving. The mixture of pleasure, pain, and intense stimulation to her cunt was surreal. She could feel her orgasm looming, calming her, flooding her veins with heat.

Cassidy didn’t want to come yet. She wanted the experience to go on and on, knowing her lovers would never tire before her. It was liberating to be able to let loose, not having to fear being left unfulfilled. They were each determined to give her more than she could handle.

“Yes…” Her body thrummed, her bones turning to mush as she tried to brace herself on two feet as her back leaned against the side of the diner. She imagined they’d create quite the scene if it had been daylight. Then she began to wonder if any of them had been hurt by the Rockfords. The darkness blinded her, so she couldn’t look for injuries. Luckily the wolves hadn’t gotten to them or they’d be dead. It was her fault if any of them were hurt. They’d come in search of her because they cared, worried. When was the last time anyone ever gave two shits about her? “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to go out there to rescue me.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, baby girl.” Travis slipped a hand over the curve of her ass. “A fight once in a while is good for a man, keeps him seasoned.”

No men were harder or more weathered than hers. Their muscles were earned. She held Travis’s bulging bicep, testing the strength as his other hand probed the crack of her ass. When he lightly teased her nether hole, she didn’t tense as she had before. She knew what to expect and the spark of electricity from his forbidden touch was the final key to her release.

Cassidy tightened her hold on Travis’s arm while clawing her other hand into Patrick’s hair. Her body convulsed, her pussy throbbing in great waves as her orgasm flooded her veins. The heat and satisfaction didn’t leave a cell untouched. She slumped down, feeling boneless and spent, only to be held up by multiple hands.

“Turn around, Cassie.” It was Garret. His deep baritone cut through the night, thrilling her despite her recent satisfaction. The way he spoke left no room for argument. She turned around and planted both hands on the side of the diner when he pushed her back down. Cassidy was bent forward at the waist, her arms outstretched, palms against the rough bricks. Her breath caught when he warmed her ass cheeks with both hands. He was so hot, so steady in the way he touched her. “Don’t move.”

“What are you doing, Garret?”

“I’m going to enjoy you, share you with my pack like I should have already.” He smacked her ass once. How did he know exactly what she craved? The smack vibrated all the way to her sensitized clit, exciting her, making her pussy weep once again.

She felt his cock nudge between her cheeks. Cassidy gasped, not prepared to feel the warm flesh pressed against her. She hadn’t even heard a zipper lower. Garret slid the head of his dick in her overflow of moisture. Each trail through her pussy lips sent a powerful thrill racing deep into her center.

“Claim her, Garret. Mark her and make it official,” said Evan.


Saturday, April 28, 2012



It's hours before Luna's wedding to a man who holds less interest to her than the kitchen in his inn. His kisses (the few that propriety would allow) were less electric than the newest alchemical ovens.

Still, she chose him so she could secure a good life for her sisters. She had few choices as a baker’s daughter, and she wanted them to have more.

Promises were made and expectations in place. She was prepared to do her duty...until she received an unexpected visit from a handsome, long-lost childhood friend.

Will Luna be able to resist the lure of adventure, aereships, and Aldwyn?


An Excerpt from: How to Become a Lady Adventurer

Copyright © 2012 Deborah Castellano
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.

By reading this excerpt, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are younger than 18 years old, you must exit this site at once.

He reached out to tuck a stray piece of her hair into one of the bundles of pins. “Come away with me.”
She slapped his hand away. “No.”

“Please, Luna. It’s unbearable without you. I’ve missed you more than I can say, it’s why I could never write you or even send a whispercall. Come away with me. You’ve never even been more than two towns over. This world...this world is so very big and beautiful and terrible, and you need to see it.”

“So you want me to ignore my sisters? Forget my responsibilities? I will not do it, Aldwyn.”

“No. I want you to leave this,” he said, pressing a small, heavy velvet bag into her hand, “on your baking table with a note to your family and a note to Randhir that you can’t marry him. Here is what I’m fairly sure is twice as much as your settlement, to be split however they see fit for the inconvenience of losing you. Then I want you to take a position as one of my crew on my aereship.”

She bit her lip. "But what of my sisters?"

"This money will shield them from your doings, you know that as well as I do. They’ll still be able to go away to school or work in your family’s bakery. It will be of their choosing. Hell, Clarisse can marry Randhir herself, she’s always had aspirations."

“ own a ‘ship?”

“A small one, but yes. I do.”

“This is a terrible idea....”

“Everything we’ve ever done that was worth doing has been a terrible idea.”

“That doesn’t make it any less of a terrible idea.”

“You’ve stopped saying no.”

“But I haven’t said yes,” Luna said, biting her lip. “I don’t know that I can do this.” She had never even thought of ever being on an aereship before or of anything that didn’t involve life in her little town. She always loved looking at the maps that Aldwyn’s father and brothers made on their aereship, and she and Aldwyn would pretend that various boulders were ‘ships when they were small, mapping adventures to all kinds of foreign lands that she only knew anything about from the small gifts his brothers would bring her. The Aelanic doll, the Elixeir bracelets. She had never even been to d’Terre. She had always assumed she would spend all her days here, baking. There was never any reason to think otherwise. And now....

And now.

A small thrill coursed through her blood.

“And you won’t know until you try. And if you don’t want it, then just say the word, and I will return you to Stonewall to pursue whatever kind of life you would want to lead.”

“This is a lot of money, Aldwyn—”

“I don’t want you to have any regrets whatsoever.”

They stood in silence for many long moments. “I still don’t understand why you’ve come for me,” she said finally. She felt the weight of his stare and brought her weddinggown-green eyes up to meet his.

“I need you with me,” he said simply.

She nodded and then slowly and carefully untied her apron and folded it up far more neatly than she ever had before. “Hurry, before I change my mind.”


Thursday, April 26, 2012

SPRING BREAK by Kathy Kulig

SPRING BREAK - A Exotika Story by Kathy Kulig

Spring break beyond your wildest fantasies? If Justin Watkins can stop watching over his college students like Big Brother, he might convince the prim-and-proper Mariko Maguire to be his sex partner at the invitation-only adult club called TropiX.

Mariko is in Fort Lauderdale on business, trying to secure new clients for her PR firm. Abandoning prior commitments for one wickedly lustful evening - a one-night stand of kinky sex - was not on her agenda.

Carter Bosworth is looking for an evening of sex games during his layover in the tropical playground. He's a regular at TropiX and always open for a new thrill. His plans are sidetracked, but it may be to his benefit after all when he meets the beautiful Mariko.

The potent heat developing between Justin and Mariko tempts her into shedding her inhibitions, and an exploration in eroticism beyond her imagination develops at the fetish club.


By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
<><> <><> <><>
An Excerpt From: SPRING BREAK
Copyright © KATHY KULIG, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Mariko Maguire sat at the tiny patio table along Fort Lauderdale Strip fanning herself with an oversized postcard she’d found on the table.
She managed to grab the seat the moment the couple clad in bikini and surfer shorts left. Calypso music blared from the Tiki bar as crowds of young people sipped frozen drinks and beer, munching on onion rings, raw mussels and clams. Scanning the group of spring breakers where everyone was dressed in bathing suits or T-shirts and shorts, Mariko noticed they were all at least twelve years younger than she. A twinge of regret hit her as she listened to the laughter and observed the young men and women flirting and having a good time.

She’d missed her spring break in college. If she had gone with her friends that year instead of working would her life have been any different? She was the only fool wearing a business suit and heels. What had her boss been thinking to plan a conference during spring break?

Thank God, she chose to do without the pantyhose this morning. She only hoped the physicians in her seminar—all men except for one woman—didn’t think her unprofessional for not wearing stockings.
Screw it, this was South Florida. One more lecture and she would join the young kids in a bathing suit and hit the pool, maybe the ocean.
Wow, were they really college aged? They looked so young. Or was she getting old? Thirty-four wasn’t old, she tried convincing herself.
She envied the carefree looks on their faces and wondered how many were involved in a summer romance, experiencing the passionate exhilaration of a brief affair, knowing it would be over when classes started. Even promises of “we’ll keep in touch” or “we’ll find a way to see each other” never happened, or so she’d heard.

What would she give to have had that heated spontaneity just once? After a divorce was there any spontaneity in dating anymore? Maybe she expected too much. A young woman in a skimpy bikini leaned against a handsome guy at the bar. His hands roamed over her hips and slid dangerously close to skimming her breasts. His thigh was planted between her slim legs and she dry humped him with the slightest movement.

Mariko grew hotter in the ninety-degree heat and her pussy gave a twitch, responding to the sensual display. God, she was horny. The thought of having a man running his hands over her while she was half naked—better yet, completely naked—was turning her on. She would enjoy a naked dip in the pool with cool water caressing her skin, while a man massaged her breasts, touched her pussy and stimulated her clit.
Touch me here, lower, harder, slip a finger inside me, pinch my nipples, yes, like that… He’d obey each command, pleasuring her in all ways. Mariko released a long exhale, her body tingling from her thoughts. Only in my dreams.

Mariko shifted in her seat and averted her eyes from the couple’s public display. She noticed a few guys around the bar had also begun watching them. Maybe they liked being watched. The throbbing in her pussy increased and her nipples tightened. Damn, after the seminar she was stripping out of her suit, getting into her bathing suit and taking a long, exhausting swim in the ocean.

She sighed. Where was the waiter with her virgin piña colada? She’d skipped the alcohol since she was giving the afternoon lecture. If the last lecture went anything like the morning one, maybe she should add the rum. These doctors were tough. She wouldn’t be surprised if she went home without one new client. Why did her company decide to plan a conference during spring break? Was she the only one not on spring break here?

The bar was four rows deep and she doubted she’d ever see the bartender again, but if she got up, she’d lose the table. Forget about ordering food, she didn’t have time. A hint of a sea breeze drifted in off the ocean and she lifted her face to capture every bit of coolness.
She opened her blouse by two buttons and pulled the silk material away from her breasts. Her plum lace bra showed a bit, but who cared with all this half-naked flesh walking around? No one was noticing the older thirty-something sitting at a table by herself. She fanned inside her blouse, but the small postcard did little to cool her off. Glancing at the card, she read TropiX Exclusive Lifestyle Impressions, by invitation only. Applications accepted at:

There was a website address and no other contact information. The card was plain, shaded in gray, black and white with silhouetted palm trees, with a couple embracing between the trees. She flipped the card over but it was blank. She frowned.

The bartender arrived with her drink. He, too, looked about fourteen. “Like to charge it to your room, ma’am?”

Ma’am? God, do I look that old? “Sure, thanks.” She held up the card.
“Do you know what this is?”

The bartender gave her a half smirk and a dark look. “Private sex club.”

“Strip club?”

“No, sex club. People meet at the club to have sex. Pretty upscale place.”

She tried not to sound shocked. “Ah, I’ve heard of them.” Sort of. “Ever go?” Heat rushed to her face and her pulse kicked up several beats. Images of a room filled with a dozen or so people engaged in one giant orgy. Hands of several men touching her intimately at the same time, what would that be like? What kinds of people go to places like that? Would she ever have sex with more than one man at the same time? Never.

She felt slick and damp between her legs, and surprisingly aroused by the thought of participating in such an experience. Must be the heat.
“No, I’ve heard people talk about it. Why, do you want to go?” the bartender asked.

She shrugged. Probably not. Was she being old fashioned? She wanted to keep up with the times, but this was a bit extreme. “I don’t know. Might be interesting.” She signed the check, then sipped her drink.

“Interesting? I could think of a few other words for TropiX.” The bartender seemed amused.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

HOT UNDER THE COLLAR by Jane Leopold Quinn

HOT UNDER THE COLLAR by Jane Leopold Quinn

Preacher Prescott MacKay gave up gun slinging when he found God.

Isis Garrett, a mail order bride, doesn’t intend to become a bride. Instead, she opens a library in Paloverde, Texas.

Pres offers her a spot in his church and hangs around more than he should. She shows him no encouragement. In fact, she makes it clear she doesn't want anything to do with him.

Can Pres battle past her antipathy and prove to her he's one of the good guys? Will Isis let herself forget the past and see the cowboy preacher for the man she’s been waiting for all her life?



"What’s turned you against men?”

“I have nothing against…them.”

“I think you do.”

Shocked he had stumbled so close to her problem, she snapped, “Well, I never…” She tried to push herself up from the rock but couldn’t get her feet under her.

“Really?” he drawled, slipping his arm around her waist again to keep her close.

She tried to loosen his grip. He wouldn’t let her. She tugged again. “This isn’t right.”

“It feels good to me.”

Closing her eyes, she was almost fooled by the warmth in his husky voice. “You can’t mean that! I’m too…too plump.” She tried to pry his hand off her middle.

“I said, you feel good to me. Just hold still.”

Oh, God, this is torture. The only way she could think of to shove him away was to put her hand on his chest. The minute she did, he covered it with his own. She went motionless. His heart beat in continuous thuds, his shirt just one layer between hot skin and her palm curved around his muscles. She almost swooned. Hard male muscles. It brought back memories she’d tried to hold inside. Was his chest covered in rust colored hair? Her breath came out in fast shivery pants, but he held her hand possessively against him. His sky blue eyes darkened, his pupils enlarging. Then his hand no longer held hers. It cupped her cheek, long fingers wrapping around her nape and thrusting into her hair.

“Who hurt you, sweet Isis?” he murmured, his lips hovering over hers, his gaze focused on her mouth.

“No one,” she whimpered in denial. She didn’t know who made the first move, but she was truly afraid she had. Smooth and warm under hers, his lips tasted delicious with the salt of the fried chicken, sticky with the juice of apples, yeasty from beer. She welcomed the flick of his tongue, gave in to his intensely fierce response. Feverish and frantic, their lips melded, her tongue played with his, his with hers. He used his ruthlessly, stroking and massaging the length of hers, suckling, groaning his pleasure. She clung to his shoulders in a death grip and succumbed to the deliciousness of his sensual invasion of her mouth.

Pres lifted her in his arms, pivoted, and they went down together onto the cushion of thick grass. Her soft body above him, then under him, her lips open, he got lost in the craving of her. He ate at her mouth, controlling her head in one hand and working on the buttons of her tunic with the other. Opening them, he splayed a hand over the full lift of her breasts, round and firm, just the way he liked. Womanly and fine, he couldn’t get enough of her. He trailed his lips down her neck, nipped and licked, his tongue laving her collarbone. He folded back the edges of her gown to encounter a chemise with pretty little embroidered flowers. The undergarment didn’t deter him. Neither did its single button. Slipping open the delicate cotton, he bared a breast. A truncated moan caught in her throat as her back arched. His eyes feasted on the white, round, satiny smooth skin centered with a perfect, rosy brown nipple. A perfect, rosy brown, tightly furled nipple. Certain evidence she was equally aroused.

His tongue flicked out, anticipating the sensation of the hard bud on his lips. His teeth ached to tug it. The minute he put his mouth on her, her hands came up, fingers fisting through his hair, clutching the strands in clear permission. Suckling hard, he swiped his tongue back and forth across the tip of her breast, then blew a gentle cool breath over her just to see it stiffen even more.

“Oh, God!” She gave a high-pitched shriek and almost tore his hair out.

He heard it through his lust-filled, frenzied mind. It pounded in his brain. God’s watching. But like a starving child, he continued to draw on her, uncovering the other breast, stroking and caressing the soft pillows of flesh. Her body thrashed beneath him, rhythmically pumping, arching upward.

“Pres,” she whined. “Yes.”

He had to stop, meant to stop. He jerked up, the truth hitting him hard. Wrong. This is wrong. “Oh, God,” she moaned, her eyes tightly closed in ecstasy.


Thursday, April 19, 2012

ILLUSIONS by Kacey Hammell

ILLUSIONS by Kacey Hammell

Detective Isabella Knowles, a tough-as-nails cop, lives by the law, and knows what she wants out of life. And it doesn't include marriage or all that comes with it. Everything Isabella has ever known seems like an illusion when a new relationship makes her feel more alive than ever before. She isn't happy about it and fights it every step of the way.

Burned by his fiancée years ago, seer and P.I., Brady Jacobs never wants another commitment in his life. But his bachelorhood and heart are threatened when he has one of his visions and sees a killer striking too close to the woman he has recently come to love.

Danger lurks close to home and neither Brady nor Isabella like that they can't control every situation...especially matters of the heart.


Excerpt, Kacey Hammell, © 2012

Knowing she would soon run out of time before his arrival, and getting more aroused by the second, Isabella hurriedly reached for her bath sponge. Soaping it up, she cleansed her body with an eagerness she was growing accustomed to feeling whenever she had plans to see him.

Sponging all suds from her clean body, she pulled the plug in the drain, stepped out of the tub, and grabbed a thick, blue towel from the shelf.

She rubbed vigorously at her body, drying it, and reached for the strawberry body lotion that went with her bubble bath. She poured a generous amount into her palm, rubbing her hands together to coat them in the sweet smell. Then she smoothed it over her arms, her breasts, stomach, and legs. She smiled as the strawberry scent filled the room. She shivered, both from the cold and appreciation for the deep and rich aroma that she loved to apply all over her body.

Humming Destiny’s Child’s ancient hit Soldier to herself, Isabella wondered how many more minutes she’d have to wait before her soldier made an appearance.

She recapped the body lotion and tucked the towel loosely around her once again. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the sound of the front door closing. She hazarded a glance in the mirror. With the mussed, damp tendrils of hair around her shoulders, the towel haphazardly wrapped around her, she looked like a woman eager for a man’s—her man’s—touch.

The sound of a boot hitting the floor with a thud caused her to smile, and she moved to the doorway of the bathroom.

Hearing another boot drop and the sound of heavy breathing, Isabella peered into the hallway. When he finally came into view, she was already breathless, even though she had been expecting him.

Dressed in his usual black denim, form-fitting jeans, and dark hair damp as if he too had taken a few moments to clean up, he was a sight to behold.

Isabella’s heart thudded rapidly and her legs threatened to give out. She noticed his leather jacket, undone, over a naked torso. Obviously, his zealousness to be with her had him forgetting a few things.

There they were. The abs, the washboard stomach, had her literally teetering on the edge of orgasm already—and he hadn’t even touched her. Finally lifting her gaze to his face, his smoldering silver-gray eyes captured hers. She had to lean against the doorjamb for support.

He always made her speechless. His beauty, his charm oozed from him with no effort at all. How she had gone so long, so many years as friends with him and never really noticed him in such a way before? Some detective she was, not seeing what was directly in front of her.

As he moved toward her, his pace slowed, as if he knew the effect he was having on her and wanted her to crave him more desperately than ever. His face broke into a sinful grin, telling her he knew exactly what he was playing at.

Never one to let anyone, least of all this man, have the upper hand, Isabella let go of the towel she was still holding around her. It slithered downed her body, pooling at her feet. Noting his small stumble mid-stride, she relished the power she had over him.

Naked and confident, she smiled at the man she needed to feel against her. Desperate to have his hands on her, she called to him.



Wednesday, April 18, 2012



A middle aged divorcee with two children must find her way back to love after a devastating divorce leaves her with no self confidence in herself or even in love. Lissa's ex-husband has shredded her self esteem, so
she has thrown herself into her children and job. An emergency life threatening illness of her best friend's son puts her on the path to romance. Lissa finds her new love in an unexpected way...introduced by his ex-wife.

Who knew that first time loves could lead to second chances?



Dressing for another long day as a receptionist at a local pediatrician’s office, I went to rouse my children. There's something profound about watching your child sleep. Not wanting to wake them but knowing that our time in the morning is limited before work and school, I playfully mussed the boys’ hair and called their names.

“Scotty? Mac? Wake up. Come on you two, time to rise and shine. After all, it is cold and flu season!”

As the boys wiped the dreams from their eyes, I smiled and watched them come aware of the world around them. Their little furrowed brows showed they had to adjust to which house they were in. With Steve’s house being the home they grew up in and my apartment being smaller, they were shuttled back and forth each week so we both got a chance to be parents. That was important to both of us. Neither Steve nor I wanted to live without our children.

I was lucky. The kids came first in our lives and wanted for nothing. We had done something right, even though we could hardly talk to each other without fighting.

The morning routine over, I arrived at the office and set about getting ready for a day filled with sick, screaming children, frustrated parents, and a gallon of hand-sanitizer. Never failing to disappoint, the phone began ringing off the hook around eight o’clock.

Starting the first of the many pots of coffee for the day, I tidied up the staff room. Chloe walked in and put her purse in the closet. “Looks like it’ll be a busy day!” Tall and regal in an Angelina Jolie sort of way, Chloe was everything I wasn’t. She would’ve been easy to hate if she wasn’t so darn easy to love. Another divorced mom, she understood exactly where I was in the healing process. She'd remarried a couple of years ago and now wanted everyone to be happily married. “You should've come with us to the bar last night,” Chloe entreated. “There were so many cute guys there!”

“You aren’t supposed to be noticing cute guys,” I teased.

“Oh, Mike was there and you can’t have him. But there were other hot guys.” Chloe and Mike met when her own marriage ended. Mike had been her cooking teacher at a local community college class. Chloe decided culinary skills would improve her marriageability. And while the class did nothing to improve her cooking, it did land her Mike’s heart.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

COME HITHER by Sandra Sookoo

COME HITHER by Sandra Sookoo

Heroes don't wear capes and heroines sometimes have fur. This ain't your grandma's fairytale.

Riley Hanson has fate by the balls. She's a kick-ass wolf-shifter who's not afraid to tell people off, especially if they try to suggest how to live her life. She lives with her grandma in the Wisconsin woods, hoping to keep the worst of humanity away.

Carson Hoode, the guy every woman wants to talk to but not date, drives a truck for Red Riders Express. Six months off a divorce, the only thing he's got going for him is a perfect delivery record, except a heavy October downpour and a muddy road threaten it. As he tries to finish his route on foot, he slips and wrenches his knee. The business end of Riley's rifle closes out his day.

The fur and pheromones fly as Riley and Carson battle their attraction while eluding a back woods hunter intent on bagging more than local wildlife. They'll need a healthy dose of fairytale magic to survive - too bad there's no such thing. Now, if only Grandma would give them some privacy because someone's getting laid at the end.


Chapter One

"Thanks for nothing, assholes." Riley Hanson slammed the phone receiver back in its cradle on the wall. She pressed her fingers over her eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths before her rising temper got the better of her. Those bastards. Once again the idiots in town refused to accept delivery of her grandmother's insulin, which meant the delivery service would have to send a driver into the remote woods of the hills where she lived.

In the rain.

On a night where the full hunter's moon would make an appearance and cause her to go furry.

"Damn it all to hell and back. Next time I see those guys, I'm going to beat them to a pulp with a pool stick." She couldn't help the words that slipped out; hadn't known she'd spoken them out loud until she heard the soft, wheezing laugh from her grandmother in the room next door. "What?" She popped around the wall that divided the kitchen and living area and gave the older lady a mock glare while planting her hands on her hips.

"Don't give me that, child, I'm much older and have seen much worse." Grandma Hanson chuckled again, laying her knitting in her lap. "The jerks in town never sign for my packages. I don't know why you let yourself get upset this time."

Riley sighed. Of course her grandma was right. She relaxed, collapsing on the sofa next to her relative. She rested her head against the fleshy shoulder she'd drawn comfort from since childhood. "I know, but I didn't have a chance to go to town and fetch it after work. I hate when the delivery people have to trek all the way out here, especially when the weather is so nasty."

"Especially when you're ready for the monthly shift." Grandma Hanson lifted a shaking hand and petted Riley's long, black hair. "That is the real reason for your angst."

"Yes." As if she could forget the one, major thing that set her apart from everyone else in the village. "I hate shifting in the rain." She shivered, imagining how the damp would permeate down into her thick fur coat, chilling her to the bone. It would take an hour in the Jacuzzi tub to thaw out.

"You can't help the weather or your natural instinct." Her grandmother shrugged. The gesture caused the air to fill with her rosewater scent. "Make the best of it. During my shifting years, there were many times I didn't want to deal with the transformations, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it."

"You're right." Once menopause kicked in, a woman's shifting urge declined every month along with her estrogen levels until she didn't transform anymore. "I just wish it didn't hurt so much." Right now, that event seemed so far off. The cold always made shifting worse.

Her grandma's next laugh made the older lady's double chin quiver. "The legends say that if a wolf-shifter finds their true-of-heart mate, their touch can make transforming bearable."

Riley snorted. She'd heard that story too many times to count. "Right, and as dorky as that sounds, I also don't believe that if some guy holds my hand, I won't feel the shift. Old wives' tales probably."

"Doubting will get you into trouble one day, maybe faster than your smart mouth." Grandma Hanson gave her a stern look straight from her childhood. "I found mine back in the day. Your grandpa helped me through those times with a strength I could never summon myself."

"But he was also a shifter. He understood."

"Yes, and you've shunned all the male shifters of our former pack." Admonition hung heavy in Grandma's voice.

"They were asses." When her relative remained silent, she patted the older woman's hand and sighed. "Trust me. It was for the best. I'd rather die than hitch myself to any of their alpha-hides for the rest of my life."

"I'm sure you had your reasons."

"Yeah, it's called retaining my sanity and not being sent to prison for first degree murder."

Her grandma chuckled. "All men can be trying. What you need is a strong man who keeps his strength inside instead of overtly wearing it outside."

"No, I need a cold beer or a big slice of your seven-layer chocolate cake." Riley's mouth watered at both thoughts. "The thing about guys is if they're strong inside, it's only a matter of time before they start acting like a cave-dwelling barbarian on the outside. Especially those jerks in town or from the pack. I don't need 'em."

"The world is a bigger place than here."

"True, but men are all the same. Besides, once they get a good look at this scar, that's all they can see." By rote, she lifted a hand and traced the slippery tissue on her right cheek. In the form of a crescent moon, three inches long, she'd received the wound as a child, before her shifting abilities had fully developed. It had healed but left the scar behind.

"It will be of no consequence to the right man."

"Trust me, none of them have passed that test yet. I don't want them anyway."

"You young people are too full of talk to know what you want. Someone who'll ground you is who you need."

Aw, geez. Time to change the subject before Grandma decides to give me the "sex" talk. "Yeah, no time for a man ‘cause I need my job."

"Modern woman syndrome."

Riley rolled her eyes. "Okay, true, but I have to have something. The wolf thing isn't my whole identity. Shifting under the hunter's moon will take a lot out of me, and I can hole up here, working from home if I feel sick afterward. It's a good life." Riley flinched as a jagged streak of lightning zipped across the darkened sky. Seconds later, a rumble of thunder rattled the large picture windows in the front room.

"Maybe, but the shift this month is different. It's under the brightest moon of the year. Full of energy even if it’ll probably rain for most of it." A flicker of unidentified emotion darkened her grandma's face before she lapsed into a grin. "You work too hard. That job of yours stresses you out too much."

That was an understatement. Riley stood and drew the heavy brown drapes across the windows. She did the accounting and bookkeeping for a few businesses in Harper's Glen, Wisconsin, and while she enjoyed handling the numbers, it didn't leave much to occupy her imagination. Most of the time, stress was her partner and by the time she arrived home at night in time to ensure her grandmother had eaten and had her injection, exhaustion kicked in.

"True, Grandma, but for the moment I need it." She returned to the sofa and slumped beside her relative. "I made this decision with my eyes wide open. I wouldn't do it any differently if given the chance." She held her grandma's hand and peered into her faded green eyes. "I mean it. Mom may have stuck to pack law, but I'll always have issues with it."

"I know, child, but at times rebelling is too much for one person to handle."

Riley yanked her hands away. "So you think I should have agreed with the pack and left you alone to die, or given into the rules of those arrogant males and let them treat me as if I were property?" One of the reasons she fled her wolf pack was their practice of leaving the elderly, sick or dying alone in the woods as the pack moved on. Soon the winter snow would fly, and accompanied with plunging temperatures, no one could survive the elements without shelter.

"No, Riley." Grandma shook her head as she fumbled with her knitting. "I only meant you're wasting your life taking care of me when you could be traveling the world, trying to find a young man to settle down with."

"Oh, lord." Riley rolled her eyes. Again with the true-of-heart perfect mate stuff. "Trust me. I've had enough guys hit on me to last a lifetime, so I'm full up on male attention." She sprang up from the sofa in order to pace the length of the large, open room. Another bout of thunder rumbled through the sky. Except, there were times during the quiet part of the night when she couldn't sleep. Would she ever find a guy who wouldn't mind what she was or understood that she was capable of taking care of herself. She cleared her throat. Not now, Riley. "Which is another reason I don't want to go into town. A Friday night? Those jerks will likely be drunk before nine." Who the hell knew what the asses in the pack would be doing right about now?

I don't care either. That time of my life is over. Too bad I'm a shifter stuck in a human world barely keeping it all together.

Grandma glanced at a German-style cuckoo clock on one wall. "It's nearing seven-thirty. Best get yourself down the drive and meet the driver—if he comes at all. If not, you'll need to go into town whether you want to or not. I have one injection left."

"I'm well aware." She strode to the coat closet and wrenched open the door. "I don't know how long I'll be out there. Do you need help with the injection and test?"

"No, dear. I've been battling diabetes for a while now." Grandma Hanson stood. As she tucked her knitting into a basket, she said, "Good luck out there.” She covered a yawn with a blue-veined hand. “I'm heading up to bed, and maybe I'll read for a spell. Oh, and by the way, I laid jeans and a warm sweatshirt inside the field box yesterday if you need them."

"Thanks." It was always awkward wandering around the woods in clothes tattered and torn from the shift.

"If you hurt too much from your shift, wake me and I'll rub the ointment into your muscles."

"Okay." By willpower alone, Riley kept the shiver of revulsion at bay. That ointment smelled like wet dog food with a garnish of hot monkey sweat. It was one of her grandma's home remedies, and no way was it going anywhere on Riley's body. Not to mention her grandma slept like the dead most times. Even powerful thunderstorms couldn't rouse her. Once she was down, she was out until sunrise. "Pleasant dreams."

"They usually are."

Having no desire to know what her grandma dreamed about, Riley shoved her arms into a thick raincoat, zipped up and put the hood over her head. She'd give the delivery people thirty minutes then she'd have to abandon the driveway in favor of transforming. Already the lunar power called to something deep inside her. As she left the cabin, she let the door slam closed behind her.

Stupid shifting. If she did ever find that perfect guy, he'd better not mind her being feral and furry once a month—or her tendency to mark her lovers, sporadic as they'd been. Huddling in the parka, she shoved off the wraparound porch and into the cold October rain. Didn't matter. She had her job, her wolf and her grandma, adding another facet to her life would only cause complications.

* * * *

Carson Hoode slammed a palm down on the steering wheel. Simultaneously, he pressed a foot down on the gas pedal for the third time. The rear wheels spun—in midair. The back end of the trunk jutted over the side of a drop off. There was no chance of his vehicle getting back to the dirt and gravel road, especially not since it had rear-wheel drive that was basically useless at the moment. If it hadn't been for that raccoon—or whatever the hell that animal had been—darting out in front of him, causing him to swerve, skid, and then finally slip over the side, he wouldn't have been in this mess.

No, that wasn't true. If the rednecks in the local bar had just signed for the box like he'd been promised, he wouldn't have needed to trek out into a part of the area even the GPS unit didn't know how to navigate. But, the flannel-loving, gun-toting, pickup truck-driving boys at Arv's—a typical small town watering hole—refused, flat out refused, to sign for the package. Said if that stuck-up bitch Riley Hanson wanted something from them, she'd have to come into town herself and have a drink with them.

Carson had no idea who Riley was; didn't care to find out beyond getting a signature. The name on the label said Adele Hanson. He assumed this Riley person was a relation. As long as she accepted the box, he could get on with his evening. Yet another look at the water world outside and the advent of being off work anytime soon slipped away. One package. One delivery. He had one goddamned delivery left to make tonight to keep within his perfect three-year record and now it was … he slid a glance to the dashboard clock, nine-forty, the night was black as pitch, pouring down rain on a freaking muddy trail cut from primordial ooze to the backwater roads of Harper's Glen. Fantastic.

He switched off the ignition and released his seat belt. What now? Rain pelted the windshield, forming eddies of water with no reprieve that obscured his view of the outside world. Once he flicked off the dome light, darkness cloaked him with a stifling hand as if the things that went bump in the night hunted him.

That's ridiculous. You're freaked out because it's almost Halloween.

It wasn't far off the mark. Halloween had always creeped him out, ever since that incident as a freshman in high school when the jocks had jumped him at a local "haunted forest" in front of a bunch of other kids. They'd stripped him down to his tighty-whiteys and left him stranded deep in the woods. Hours later, and with the help of the local sheriff's department, Caron had returned home, embarrassed and angry, but vowing to never let himself be bullied by anyone again. A tough job for a guy who had enjoyed band, computers and vintage cars more than sports—still did.

And that's exactly the reason I want to hurry this along. Who knew what kind of person—or creature—haunted these woods.

Despite the internal pep talk, Carson frowned. He folded his arms on the steering wheel and laid his chin on top. Who was he kidding? This was another crappy day in a string of crappy days. He should never have said he'd take his friend's route so the guy could go on vacation. He didn't know the area, had never been to this part of rural, but the guy's wife just had a baby and Carson had caved.

Always the sidekick. Always the good guy. Always the sucker.

He snorted and rooted in an internal pocket of his jacket for his cell phone. Yeah, right. If that were so, his life would be great instead of looking a lot like that muck outside. He glanced at the screen of his phone. Of course, no signal. Why would there be with all the rain and trees? Replacing the cell into his pocket, he sighed. What now, sit in the truck and wait for the rain to end? Nah, the ground could give way and send them both into the ravine. Punching a button on the radio, all he heard was static. No way to get a hold of dispatch.

Apparently, he’d pissed off karma at one time in his life.

Hanging up the hand set, he glanced around the cab. The box on the seat beside him mocked him, as did the wolfman costume on the floor. The guys in the local office had invited him to a Halloween party for tomorrow night, and without a valid excuse, he'd agreed to come despite the nerves anything Halloween-related gave him.

He'd bought the costume as a way to kick his fears in the gut. Time to break out of the old shell, stop being "that" guy, the one everyone called to do stuff because he was a pushover. He wanted excitement and adventure instead of boring and routine. Yet, the chance to try to enjoy life again rapidly slipped through his grasp. Most likely his time for partying would be spent getting someone out to haul the truck back to town, scheduling repairs and explaining how this came to pass to his superiors. He stared at the box, marked "Urgent. Medical supplies." His stomach clenched. "Damn it." No matter what, he'd get the package delivered. Someone on the other end was counting on it, and it could be a life or death matter. Zipping his red jacket, he snagged the ball cap-style hat emblazoned with his company's logo "Red Riders Express" and jammed it over his hair.

No matter when, no matter where, we'll deliver on time and with a cheerful air.

"Well, looks like I won't be following the motto tonight." Carson grabbed the box and left the warm, dry confines of the delivery truck.

Outside, rain pelted him from what felt like every angle as he struggled to slide the door closed. Once it was secured, he peered around the area for a sign of a road. A muddy trail interspersed with gravel wound through trees, rivulets of water running around small pebbles and rocks in the trail. From somewhere at the crest of the hill, he thought he saw what he thought was a yellow glow of lamplight, but he couldn't be sure due to the rain. He hugged the flat box to his chest and began what would most likely be a long trek.

With every slogging step, the rain blurred his vision. When his shoes slid on the slippery ground, he tried to find traction on the gravel, and when that didn't work, he grabbed onto tree limbs and sturdy-looking weeds to prevent tumbling down the incline. He'd plodded on another several feet before an exposed tree root tangled with his left foot. Carson lost his balance and came down hard on his knee. The box flew out of his hand and landed in a puddle a few yards away.

Sharp pain lanced through his leg. Of course, it had to be the same knee he'd injured fifteen years ago during high school marching band. Every now and again he'd wrench it and spend a week laid up or hobbled. He struck the muddy ground with a fist. Pulling himself into a standing position, he attempted to put weight on his leg, and immediately collapsed on his ass. Yeah, I'm not going anywhere at the moment. Annoyed and muttering a string of curses in his head, he edged over the ground, stretched an arm out as far as he could reach and snagged the medical supply box.

Oh, it's on now, fate. I will deliver this whether you want me to or not.

He moved his leg, and again shafts of hot agony shot through his knee. His breath hissed out between his teeth, fogging in the cooling temperature. Water dripped off the bill of his cap and seeped through his clothing. He couldn't get much lower than this. Sitting in the mud with a wet ass, a bum knee and a job still not completed summed up his life.

Broken down truck, a six-month-old divorce, no house, a perfect service record threatened and nothing to look forward to beyond a knee in traction. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Can I be any more of a loser?"

"I don't know, but if you don't get your ass off my property, I can make sure the other knee is out of commission too."

Carson jerked his head in the direction the agitated, female voice had come from. The beam of a flashlight cut through the gloom and highlighted raindrops. His gaze lifted upward from the hand holding the light and into a face hooded by a dark parka. The eyes narrowed, the lips set into a tight line and the nose of a pistol winked at him from her other hand.

And the hits just keep on coming. "Really, you'd shoot an injured man?" Too bad he couldn't see what she looked like thanks to the oversized rain parka covering most of her frame.

"With no problem or regret whatsoever."


Monday, April 16, 2012

UNSPOKEN LIES by Sarah J Pepper

UNSPOKEN LIES by Sarah J Pepper

"Not everyone falls for the psychopath with killer good looks, but Roxy hasn't ever been very lucky by Sarah J Pepper"

With the Unseelie prince’s dangerously addictive kiss lingering on her lips, Roxy is appointed by the Seelie Court to investigate their king’s murder. As more faeries turn up missing or dead, Roxy must find the killer before accusations push the two courts into war.

One problem: the killer orchestrates a twisted game of hide-and-seek, as if amused by the web of lies they create. The catch: all the clues lead to an Unseelie prince being the killer mastermind – the very faerie whose touch Roxy craves.


© copyright by Sarah Pepper, December 2011

Cover Art by Eliza Black, December 2011

ISBN 978-1-60394-674-2

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

“Open them,” Alexander ordered, slamming her against her bedroom door, closing it.

Obeying, Roxy’s starry vision stole her balance, but Alexander pressed his cold body against hers tight enough to her bedroom door, she wasn’t about to fall. They stood there, staring at each other as if they both wanted to see the hunger blazing in each other’s eyes. It only took a few moments before Roxy couldn’t control her breathing and Alexander’s body became entirely hard under her touch. Leaning forward, his mouth hovered above hers but didn’t close the space to kiss her. Instead, he dug his nails into her back, dragging them down her spine until she trembled uncontrollably. Finally, she screamed into his mouth as he swallowed her cries with a kiss.

His hands plummeted lower while Roxy’s found his crown and thick black hair. The harder she pulled, the lower his hands fell. Finding the dress’s slit, he gripped her thigh, sliding upward as a cool sensation wrapped around her leg.

Once his hand reached her hip bone, Alexander abruptly broke their kiss and stared at her with his cool silver eyes. A smirk slithered across his face as he rubbed this thumb over the area her panties would have been.

Parting her legs for him, his hand dipped down until he could feel just how wet he made her. Forcing his tongue into her mouth, it turned cold as a winter’s breeze. Mimicking his mouth, his fingertips turned icy. She screamed with pleasure and jerked on his hair. With his hand becoming wetter, Alexander tried to untie the dress but groaned with frustration after only a few moments. Pulling his fingers out of her, he backed off and flung her body around. Roxy caught herself against the door just as Alexander ripped the dress off her.

Taking both her wrists, he shoved them against the door. Stepping back, Alexander lightly touched her thigh as if he’d break her. Slowly, he let his hand travel up her back, examining her body with utter amazement.

“Damn,” Alexander muttered.

Twirling his cold finger down her bare back, she shivered. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of his expression. He looked as if he wasn’t worthy enough to gaze upon her body, let alone touch her. A cold breath of air broke from him as he studied every crevasse, curve, and line of her body. Spinning her around, she ate at his mouth, struggling to control her eagerness.

Images of him, wearing only a white towel, flooded her mind. The body he’d flaunted that morning, the night he saved her life, and the afternoon practicing fighting stances, was what she wanted pressed up against her. Shoving her hands against his chest, she ripped at his shirt. Tearing her hands from his clothing, he pushed away from her. Before she comprehended what he wanted, he picked her up and tossed her onto her bed as if she weighed nothing.

Strutting over to her, Alexander reached for his shirt and leisurely popped the buttons apart, allowing her see his body… excruciatingly…unbearably…slow. Unable to wait any longer, Roxy crawled to the edge of the bed.

“Stay,” he demanded, waiting to see if she would comply.

Her body ached for him, but she held her own. Clenching her sheets as if they were his clothing, she watched in anticipation. Once all the buttons were undone, he pulled the shirt off on one swift movement. Imaging her tongue tracing his perfectly formed stomach, she moaned at the sight of his body. Ripping at his shoulder holster, he never took his eyes off her. Loving that she couldn’t bear not to see all of him, Alexander let the rig fall off, hitting the floor raucously. After he removed the knife sleeves from his forearms, he pulled a thick blade from his waist band.

Struggling to stay, Roxy nearly lost control when he reached for his belt. His breathing became ragged, watching her fight herself to stay on the bed. Removing his belt completely, it fell to the floor. Only then did he walk the last few feet to the bed. Undoing the pants that had to have been sewn on, Alexander stood only an arm’s length away. Unable to wait longer, she crawled out of her bed. Sliding her hands down his lower back, she jerked his pants off.

As her gaze dropped, Alexander caught her chin and swallowed her lust before she could see all of him. Wrapping her hands completely around the length of him, her moan was lost on his throat.




Niklas Voortag, High King of Terrna lives his life for his people. His own needs are unimportant. Driven by the words of an ancient prophecy, he searches far and wide for the woman who can save his world. Now that he's found her, can she also save his heart?

Kidnapped from her world and everything she knows, Brianna O'Neill finds that she is The One bound to save an entire world. A trip through space, an acquaintance with a faery and an ancient sorcerer was never at the top of her list. Now she must come to terms with the fact that she is the only one with the power to thwart an evil plan.

This book was previously published under the title Prophecy. It has been revised, edited and republished.



A slight movement in the corner startled her and she shivered with fear. Swallowing thickly, she tried to talk around the giant lump in her throat. “Is someone there?” She sat up, pulled the sheet up to her chest and squinted into the darkness, trying to see around the shadowy shapes she knew was her furniture. The sound of breathing from the corner made her heart pound faster.

Brianna’s hands fisted in her sheets, she hadn’t been this frightened in her own bedroom for years. The old fears and insecurities rose up, bound her to the bed, making it nearly impossible to move. She was torn between running and pulling the covers up over her head like a frightened child.

She inhaled sharply when a person stepped from the shadows, even opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Reaching for her throat, she wanted to claw at the slim column and force it to comply. She tried again, still nothing.

Is this another dream? The intruder stepped fully into the moonlight and she could see him, or her, very clearly now. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be human. It was tall and thin, with long silver hair and long pointy ears. Brianna resisted the urge to giggle. Hysterics were not an option. She needed to keep her wits about her.

“I would appreciate it if you did not think of me as an it or as a female.” The creature straightened. “I am Larin of the Fey. Messenger of Morgaine.”

“Huh?” Brianna sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. Now that she knew she wasn’t looking at a specter, whoever it was, had to be human. Fear came bounding back. She cast furtive glances around the room, hoping to find something she could use as a weapon. What the hell, if she was going to die anyway, she was going to go out with a bang. Maybe literally. “First of all, how did you know what I was thinking? Two, how did you get in here, and three, just who in the hell are you?” Brianna waggled three fingers, glaring at him. She didn’t give a crap if he was gay. She just wanted him out of her house.

He sighed. “I am most certainly not gay. Not in the manner you mean at any rate.” He hedged. “I am gay, meaning that I am happy.” He smiled and spread his arms wide, his hands palms up.

Like that was supposed to clear things up? Brianna slid backward across her bed to put more space between them. Turning her back, she dropped the sheet, grabbed her robe and put it on. Maybe he was a weirdo surgically altered to look strange. One who needed to make the acquaintance of the guys who wore the white coats?

She held trembling hands in front of her, in what she hoped resembled a placating manner. “I’m glad that you’re happy being gay,” she smiled. “Really I am. I just don’t know what it has to do with me or why you’re in my house.” She blinked and eyed the telephone, wondering if she would be able to dial nine-one-one before he could take it from her and make her eat it.

Larin closed his eyes, running a long slender finger up and down the most perfect nose Brianna had ever seen. He smiled and opened his eyes. They had the most devilish twinkle.

“I am pleased you like my nose, madam, but it is far from perfect.” He leaned back and sighed. “Ah. Now, my Queen, she is another story. She is perfection.”

“Will you stop that?” Brianna shook a finger at him. “Just stay out of my head! You weren’t invited.” She glared at him, furious, her eyes becoming slits. “How do you do that anyway?”

“Do what?” Larin asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence. The glacial blue of his eyes was prismatic, reflecting what little light there was back at her.

“Ack!” Brianna threw her hands in the air. She was never going to get a straight answer from him. The creep was more slippery than a politician.

His silvery white brows drew down in a fierce scowl. “I beg your pardon!”

“If you don’t like my thoughts, stay out of my head.” She said with a smirk. There! That got him. What in the world did the guy want anyway? And why aren’t you scared out of your wits because he just popped into your house? The strange thing was that she really wasn’t scared of him. She felt more like sticking her tongue out at him than running for her life.

Biting her lip, she eyed the phone and frowned. Why should she care if he’s gay? That was his business, not hers.

“I am Larin of the Fey! F.E.Y. You know, the faeries.” He all but screamed the last.

Brianna tilted her head to the side and looked on with interest. He wasn’t quite so beautiful when his face turned purple like that. His eyes did strange things, too, almost glowing orange, then suddenly changing back to the brilliant blue they’d been before his tantrum.

“Faeries do not have tantrums!” He stomped his foot. Then, when he realized what he’d done, he looked toward the ceiling and rolled his eyes.

She stifled the urge to giggle. This would be hilarious if she could be certain he wasn’t an axe murderer.

“I cannot abide your fear any longer,” he growled. “Rules or no rules, watch this.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared. Then poof! He was back again.

Brianna nearly fainted. If she’d been standing, she certainly would have fallen. “Wha—”

Larin sighed again and shook his head.

She was getting so tired of that. He acted like he thought she was stupid or something.

“How can you call yourself a witch and not believe in faeries?” He scowled again.

Brianna watched him with interest. If he hadn’t had that eerie glowing eye thing going again, it would have been comical. He was just too pretty to make those faces.

“Males. Are. Not. Pretty.” He emphasized each word.

She made a face. Well, two could play at that game. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Head,” she huffed. This yelling match was going absolutely nowhere.


Sunday, April 15, 2012



A man gets invited to a friend's log cabin for the weekend. It was supposed to be couples but his girlfriend has to cancel at the last minute. That night he hears his friend having sex with his girlfriend and discovers there's a hole in the chinking of the wall between the bedrooms. He doesn't mean to watch, but he sees the hole in the chinking and looks through. He has trouble tearing his gaze away. He's discovered and the couple invites him to join them.


Inadvertent Voyeur
Declan Sands
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Declan Sands

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Mitch Johnston hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He felt strange knocking on the cabin door solo. On the two hour drive to the remote lake cabin, he'd almost turned around and headed back home several times.

He hated being the third wheel, especially with a couple who had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. Brandt and Salli were definitely in their honeymoon period. Their lovey-dovey crap was hard enough to take when he had his girlfriend, Tess, with him. He was pretty sure it would be overwhelming solo.

But the lure of early morning fishing was just too much for him to pass up. He would make it an early night, get up at four a.m. to fish with Brandt, and then hit the road before lunch.

The door swung open, and all thoughts of escaping disappeared like fog in the sun. His pulse picked up as Salli smiled at him, pushing at the cloud of hair that always threatened to overwhelm her heart shaped face.

"Hey there!" She pressed her lips to his, the kiss sweet but a full second longer than he'd expected. She smelled like flowers and vanilla. When she pulled away she licked those lush lips, her pretty pink tongue harvesting his taste. His cock hardened. "I'm really sorry Tess couldn't come."

"Yeah. Me, too." Mitch followed her into the cabin, thinking, as he always did, that he wished he'd nabbed Salli before Brandt. He and Brandt had met the two women in a bar and it had just worked out that Brandt had sat next to Salli and Mitch sat next to Tess. The outcome of the event was far from equal. He and Tess had a lukewarm relationship, while Brandt and Salli really seemed to be going strong.

"Hey, dude!" Brandt grabbed his hand and slapped his back. "I'm glad you made it. I just can't get Sal interested in feeding worms onto hooks."

Mitch laughed. "I can't wait. I'll need to leave right after fishing, though."

Salli frowned, sticking her lush bottom lip out in a playful pout. "Oh, too bad. I was looking forward to cooking my two men dinner tomorrow night."

Mitch's cock twitched hopefully, and he found himself staring at Salli's mouth. She had the sexiest mouth, with a tiny overbite that made him want to nibble and taste every time he looked at her. "Sorry. Maybe next time?"

"Course. Can I get you a beer or something, Mitch?"

"Sure. Thanks."

They drank their beers at a small, glass table overlooking the lake and the thick fringe of woods surrounding it. The cabin was gorgeous, the setting secluded and breathtaking. The property belonged to Salli's family, and Brandt had assured him she had use of it whenever she wanted. Apparently they came to the cabin a lot. He could definitely see the appeal.

Looking at the fiberglass fishing boat bobbing in the water beside an immaculate dock, Mitch wondered if night fishing was an option. The only thing keeping him from asking was the fact that Salli was sitting really close to him, and her hand kept falling to his knee when she spoke.

He tried not to read anything into it, since Salli was a toucher. She always touched when she spoke to people. But he found himself transfixed by the way her little pink tongue slipped across her lip after every sip of her beer. And, whenever she handed him a fresh one, her exquisitely soft fingers would slide across his, lingering...



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