Friday, August 30, 2013

SWITCH by Kate Richards

SWITCH by Kate Richards

The Trainer

Esme Stone’s marriage is on the rocks. Her husband, Rick, has Peter Pan Syndrome to the extreme, partying till all hours and spending every dime he makes. She cooks, cleans, earns the money for their expenses, and takes responsibility for paying the bills. In short, everything. How can she start a family when her husband is a big kid himself? Heart breaking, she considers divorce.

One step from walking out, she meets a woman online, then others, who swear a Domestic Discipline agreement saved their marriages. That putting their husbands in charge helped them grow up. In hopeful desperation, Esme approaches Rick with an ultimatum.

Take charge or take a hike.

They jump in with both feet and then come up against a wall. Rick needs help with the discipline elements he must employ. Spank Esme?



“Not so bad, was it?” Once again he rubbed her buttocks. Soothing the heat left by the flat of his hand. “Now, we will go to the bare skin, but first I want Rick to make his first decision.” He stopped stroking, but left his palm resting on her ass. “Go to the closet and pick out an implement. I suggest a paddle, but whatever looks good to you.”

Rick moved through her field of vision and disappeared again, while her anxiety rose. Her husband, who hadn’t even laid a hand on her backside, wouldn’t pick anything too crazy, would he? Of course, crazy was all in the eye of the beholder…or the bottom of the spankee.

“A whisk?”

A chuckle rumbled from the Trainer, irritating her beyond all reason, and she struggled to sit up, to get off the bastard’s lap. He dropped his arm over the small of her back, pinning her in place. “Some people have eclectic taste. See anything you like, Rick?” “I think so, yes.” She braced her upper body on her left palm raising her head and straining to see. What did he have from the cabinet of horrors? Esme let her eyes drift closed. Whatever would be would be.

 A loud thump and they flew open again.

“Sorry, clumsy me.” What had he dropped? A bowling ball? The rock-hard thighs under her belly vibrated with the Trainer’s humor. She didn’t share his amusement in the situation. Of course his fanny wasn’t sticking up in the air, ready to be a target—again. Would anyone dare to give him a taste of his own medicine?

 Perhaps this whole domestic discipline thing had gotten out of hand. The humiliation clause in their agreement hadn’t included a group guffaw while her butt caught cold.

“Ohhh.” The Trainer’s warm palm circled her cheeks again, one then the other, rhythmic and sensual. And created a whole other problem. Until now, she’d had zero reaction to his touch. Something had changed; the very thought of a paddle or flogger in her husband’s hand had triggered a reaction.
Although it wasn’t him touching her, somehow the on switch had been flicked to her libido. Every inch of exposed skin was a tiny erogenous zone and his smooth palm swept from one to the next, lighting her on fire. “I don’t know—I’m not sure….”

 “Rick, have you made your selection? I’m keeping your wife warm.”

Hot, he is keeping your wife hot, and you may not like that.

 Rick’s white athletic shoes returned to her view. “Keeping her…warm?”

Well, gee, Rick, thanks for noticing another man is rubbing my bare ass. Just please don’t notice how turned on I’m getting. At least until she could think it through and decide whether she was becoming a slut who didn’t care whose hands were on her. She blew out a shuddering breath. Was it more distressing when she hadn’t reacted or now that she had?


Wednesday, August 28, 2013

RESCUE PARTY by Cheryl Dragon

RESCUE PARTY by Cheryl Dragon

 Lucky Springs Series

When a flash flood hits Lucky Springs, Kacy Hillen tries to make it to the shelter of the high school gym to help others. Her car gets stalled in high water, but... three hot men come to her rescue.
On the outside, Kacy is all about achievement and independence, not man crazy. On the inside, she wants a string of men adoring and pleasing her so this is a fantasy come true. And she even knows the men! Steve and Dean are a gay couple she had no idea was bisexual, plus Clay who screwed as many girls in high school as possible but now seems to go both ways.

Kacy is exploring a whole new side of her fantasy life, and they haven't even invited her to a party. . .yet!



Clay Fulton and his friends watched the skies nervously. The water rose slowly in the streets as rain pounded the town. A low-level hurricane had swept up the Gulf, and while most storms were nothing major for centrally located Lucky Springs, this one had produced excessive rainfall. Add in gusting winds, and it was a good day to stay inside.

“We might be in for a flood,” Clay said. The former Army Reservist’s brain planned in terms of emergency action. The small town he grew up in rarely had extremes in weather, but a lot of the land was low lying.

“You’ll just have to stay here. We’re on high ground.” Dean hugged Clay from behind.

Men still felt new to him, but Clay leaned back into it. Privately, he knew he was bisexual, but he hadn’t put it out there publicly yet. Before, he’d strictly done women, and the men thing wasn’t quite second nature yet. He needed some reassurance. “You’ll get sick of me.”

“Not a chance.” Steve sat on the window seat that looked out from the huge log cabin. “In this weather, we should stick together.”

Clay discovered Steve and Dean were a couple when he returned to Lucky Springs. After high school, he’d gone into the Army Reserve and got a college degree, but nowhere else could be home. He was big into cheerleaders in high school, and a little real life experience taught him he’d been searching for more.

Things had changed when Clay was invited to one of the sex parties and found them there, as well. An open secret for most of Lucky Springs, private sex parties kept things interesting since there wasn’t a BDSM or swingers club in town. Not even a strip club or adult bookstore could be found until the next big city…more than two hours away by car.

Being back in the small town where in high school he’d been a top jock and really wild felt oddly comforting and also a little bit of a let down. He wasn’t the stud with big dreams anymore. He’d peaked in high school and went into the Army Reserve to pay for college and receive some discipline. Being back home felt safe, and his job at the factory in the IT department suited him.

“You’re quiet.” Dean pressed into Clay’s back. The tall, sexy man had dark brown hair, brown eyes and was a year younger than Clay.

The desire hummed through their bodies. Being with men wasn’t something Clay had ever thought of until the Reserve where hot, hard men were all over and not shy about what they did or where. And even still, Clay hadn’t done anything with men until these two.

“He misses all the action. He’s bored with Lucky Springs.” Steve stood up and pinned Clay between the bodies of the other men.

The hunk sandwich made Clay’s blood pound in his veins. “Not bored. How could I be with you two around? It’s just this storm feels different.”

“I think he’s missing women. We need to hit another party.” Dean trailed his hand up Clay’s tattooed arm. The pattern went from elbow to shoulder.

“A woman is nice. The right woman is harder to find.” Steve kissed Clay softly.

Giving in to the distraction, Clay kissed Steve back. The confident man was an inch taller than Clay and a year older at thirty-one. He’d shocked many Lucky Springs residents by coming back from college with his best friend’s younger brother as a boyfriend. Dean swore he knew all along Steve was the man for him.

Steve pressed into Clay and kissed Dean over Clay’s shoulder. Clay still couldn’t quite believe he was part of their relationship now. Of course, before the party, he’d have bet every penny he had they’d never fuck a woman. Seeing how fluid sexuality could be opened new worlds to him.

“I’m not in the way, am I?” Clay wasn’t sure if this would be forever, for now or where he even belonged. He didn’t want to leave. Of that much he was sure. Men weren’t a replacement for women. In fact, he hadn’t lost his lust for women at all. It was different, and being bisexual answered a lot of questions for him.

“Never.” Dean slid his hands over Clay’s crotch and teased his cock through the denim.

“Sharing is good.” Steve nipped at Clay’s neck.

“I don’t think he can go too long without pussy. Remember all the stories of him in high school?” Dean teased.

Clay’s face felt hot, but he wrapped his arms around Steve’s broad shoulders. His dark hair and piercing green eyes had always intrigued Clay. Now he understood he was attracted to men even in high school, and facing it had been too hard. He’d instead certainly enjoyed all the girls.

“Half of it was probably made up.” Steve claimed Clay’s mouth again, and their tongues tangled.

Moaning, Clay backed off the kiss and shook his head. “Most of the stories were true. I wasn’t an honors student. I did a lot of girls. I had no idea it was because I wanted to try guys, too. No matter how many girls I did, it wouldn’t be the same as a guy. Doesn’t mean I don’t want women also.”

“You know now.” Dean nuzzled the back of Clay’s neck. “We’ll find the right woman and life will be perfect.”

Clay wanted to believe them. But he’d pleasured and screwed over a lot of women his age in this town years ago. He wasn’t as popular these days. If he came out as gay, they might forgive him. But wanting dick and pussy would only add to the greedy, cocky bastard image. Bad boys in high school were hot. Adult women wanted responsible and successful men. “The women here who know me will think I’m a jerk.”

“Or you were confused. Don’t underestimate people.” Steve understood the high school games since he was the current football coach, but Clay knew people remembered a lot and held grudges. The scars from teenage years didn’t disappear. As Steve worked his hands under Clay’s shirt, it was hard to care. “Let’s wait out the rain in a more fun way.”

Ready to agree, Clay tugged his shirt over his head. As the fabric fell to the floor, he spotted something through the window out in the road. “What the hell?”

Steve turned. “That car won’t make it.”

It was a small sedan creeping along as the water level continued to rise. “The water will cover the tail pipe and the car will drift.” Dean shook his head. “Fire and Rescue won’t get here in time.”

“We’re here.” Clay fished his keys from his pocket. “My pickup can handle that.”

Steve stood at the ready but looked unsure of what to do. Dean was a vet, so they had first aid if they needed it. Clay’s brain immediately calculated the needs and dangers. “Steve, you can handle my oversized pickup, right?”

“Sure. The thing is huge, but that’s good because this water will be nothing for it.” Steve took the keys.

“Okay, Dean you’ll be in the back with me. Get blankets or whatever just in case. Plus rope. Not sure how this’ll go. First aid supplies won’t hurt.” Clay shoved his stocking feet into work boots.

Dean gathered what he needed, and Steve helped, they knew where everything was stored in their house on the edge of town better than Clay. Technically, Clay still had a room at his uncle’s house, but he had been staying with Dean and Steve off and on. He never wanted to leave this safe space of open talk and sex.

Clay watched the car dip into higher water, knowing the engine would cut out in seconds because it couldn’t exhaust. The other two walked up, ready to go. As the trio dashed out the door and into Clay’s pickup, he was grateful he’d gone for the oversized and fully equipped gray Tundra. It had reminded him of the big military vehicles, and his uncle said it was too much car for a keyboard tapper with a desk job. Now that truck would prove its use.

Steve drove into the water and pulled up next to the small, red sedan with a sunroof. Looking inside, Clay recognized the gorgeous black woman behind the wheel. Kacy Hillen was smart, strong, put together, and had never once looked Clay’s way. The sexy woman now stared at him for help as her engine refused to turn over. The driver’s side window was cracked but not enough to pull her through.

“Don’t bother. It’s locked,” Clay shouted.

She popped the manual sunroof up. “Damn it! Help me; I need to get to the school.”

“Not now, you don’t.” Clay hopped over the side of his truck bed and stood on the hood of her car. He needed to move fast before it became buoyant and was washed away by the building current. They had to get her out of there. “Park it and put the sunroof all the way back if you can. We need to get you out.”

“What about the door?” She rolled down the window and looked. “Shit!”

“Water is coming up fast, come on,” Dean shouted as he tossed a rope to Clay.

Clay fixed the rope through the sunroof and open window before tying it off. They’d at least have a tether. She tried moving the sunroof.

“The pop up is manual, but the slide-back is electric,” she said.

“Cover your eyes.” Clay grabbed a crow bar from the back of his truck. When she was covered, he cracked the sunroof off the top of the car and kicked it into the water. “Be careful.”

Her purse landed on the car’s roof first, and he tossed it into the bed of the truck. “Take my hand, Kacy. I don’t bite.”

“That’s not what every girl in high school said.” She smiled and tugged the hood of her raincoat up over her head. He saw her mentally prepare herself for something out of the norm, and finally, she grabbed his hand and worked her way up through the sunroof hole until she stood on the seat.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” Clay ignored the beating rain on his bare torso. He’d be freezing soon, but getting Kacy safe was the priority. Watching her wiggle free of her car was a reward itself. She slid down the windshield.

Her sexy curves and large, beautiful eyes had intrigued him even back in high school. She’d always been a good girl who didn’t get into trouble or give players the time of day. When her gym shoes landed on the hood of her car next to Clay’s, he was relieved. She’d dressed practically, in jeans, a T-shirt and sturdy shoes. Why she was out in this weather would be a question for later.

“Pull forward a bit,” Clay shouted to Steve.

The truck moved up, and Dean let the rope go more. Then he popped the tailgate down so Clay could get Kacy into the bed easily.

Clay exhaled as he stepped into the bed of his truck and locked it. “You okay?” he asked Kacy.

“Fine! Thank you. I didn’t expect to get so bad this fast.” She held the side and sat in the back of the truck bed. Steve had the windows open so he could hear what was going on in the back.

“Flash flood was no joke this time. The storm system stalled over Lucky Springs, and it’s not letting up. We’ll take you inside,” Dean said.

“You’ll be safe with us. Where the hell were you going in this weather? Every report says to stay home.” He shook his head.

Kacy met his gaze with a challenging look of her own. He didn’t mind rescuing people, but the question was valid. She seemed smarter than to run off into danger. Or maybe she was just the book-smart sort of woman?


Tuesday, August 27, 2013



Whenever John Romero was asked if he was wounded in Vietnam, he always received a confused look when he replied that his eye was lost in Santo Domingo.

A former minor league baseball player with just six weeks left to serve in the Army, John's plans for making a comeback are interrupted when his unit is deployed to the Dominican Republic, and he finds himself in a combat situation. While dodging bullets, he meets a beautiful Dominican woman, the aloof Ramona. She inflames the private passions of the paratroopers that view her from their command post. Romero plots a course to win her affections, but the political intrigue and the carnage in the streets of Santo Domingo conspire to thwart his every move, forcing him to make a drastic decision....

The Goats of Santo Domingo explores the complexity of emotions that arise when one is confronted with a situation in a state of flux, and demonstrates that sometimes doing the right thing can literally blow up in your face.



An Excerpt from: The Goats of Santo Domingo

Copyright © 2013 Robert McEvilla

All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.

A coil of concertina wire stretched down the middle of the street between the sandbags Romero stood behind and her turquoise house. Behind him was a schoolhouse that his unit had occupied since their arrival. The old structure reminded Romero of the Alamo.

“Keep your eye on that house,” Rosen had said to him. “You’ll see her if you get posted at the sandbags; she comes out every morning around nine and reads a book for half an hour—a real beauty queen.” Romero had heard the other men in his squad talking about her. They referred to her as Miss Santo Domingo, the Princess, or the Dominican Damsel.

The door opened on the brightly painted stucco house. She wore a short white skirt, the hem well above the knee. The lawn chair she held was unfolded with a nobility of motion, the way a virtuoso opens his violin case. She sat down, crossed her shapely legs, and opened a book before setting it daintily on her lap. For a confused moment, Romero was convinced she was Carla. He stepped out from behind the sandbags and was a few strides off the curb before the coiled barbs stopped him. The closer view made him see that it wasn’t Carla after all. She was somebody else—a stranger—both mysterious and recognizable. She was perhaps Miss Swanson, his fourth grade teacher to whom he had written his first love letter and hid it in his school bag. There was a bit of Anna about her, too, the little girl who’d lived across the street from him when he was twelve. She was someone who had once held him tight, but not close enough—someone who had left and gone away.

A real Spanish Contessa, he thought.

She wore her black hair up in a beehive, or was it called a French twist? He only knew that he hadn’t seen any other Dominican women wear their hair that way. That style took a lot of hairspray to hold, and hairspray was hard to come by in a city that had been ripped apart by civil war.

She turned a page, and Romero became curious as to what she was reading. He knew he should have waved at her when she first appeared. It would’ve looked foolish to wave after she had opened her book. He stepped back behind the sandbags.

The past two days had been quiet. The latest cease-fire was holding for the most part. Now the mission was to take a defensive position along the northern line of the rebel zone and not fire unless fired upon. The streets were paved, and the buildings were stucco and cinder block. It wasn’t the most prosperous of neighborhoods, but it was better than the dirt streets down by the river where Romero’s squad had cleared out snipers from wooden shacks.

His Spanish Contessa turned another page, and Romero rested his elbows on top of a sandbag and watched. Since the cease-fire, civilian traffic had increased on each side of the wire; mostly vintage American cars and pickup trucks. Three-wheeled scooters throttled past with loads of produce.

The Dominican beauty shifted her weight in the chair. Through the ninety feet that separated them, he could see himself opening the door for her to get into his Buick. They were on a date back home. Romero liked the way she rubbed her hand over the leather upholstery. He introduced her to his buddies, and their noses opened.

A gun jeep from the recon platoon drove by, and the driver waved at Romero. The gun crew gawked at his Contessa. They wore a lewd itch in their expressions. He was wondering what he looked like to her when Sergeant Dixon elbowed him in the ribs.

“Have you been thinking about those drawers, Romero?”

“Too bad she has to live on the other side of the wire,” Romero answered. “Did you ever see a babe that looked so delicate and dangerous at the same time?”

“Dangerous is right—like a black widow. One hump and die.”



BLOOD PROPHECY by Marie Treanor

BLOOD PROPHECY by Marie Treanor

Blood Hunters Series Book Four

From a shameful past, rises a vital destiny...

"The junkie whore shall save the trinity in the first hour." So spoke the insane Luk, last of the Ancient undead prophets. The enigmatic vampire Dmitriu believes he knows the junkie whore in question, destined to save the daughter of his creator Saloman.

But the Edinburgh prostitute Janine, who once showed Dmitriu kindness, has not only got clean; she's become a vampire hunter, determined never to be helpless in anyone’s power again; and Dmitriu's pretty high on her kill list. Instead of renewing his beguiling sexual relationship with her, he has to kidnap her to force her cooperation. Bombarded with sensual memory and the lust Dmitriu still inspires in her, Janine also has to fight her way through renegade hunters, Dmitriu's rebellious creation, Antonia, the bizarre Militant Church for the Defence of the Holy Trinity and the first anti-vampire protests. It’s too much; the prophecy could be broken.

 Unless Janine's destiny is Dmitriu.



“How monstrous, exactly, do you think I am?”

“As monstrous as you want to be?” she guessed.

“Good answer,” he approved. “And about right too. I will do my utmost to save this baby. And I think you’ll want to as well. You smell good.”

She blinked at the sudden change of subject. He didn’t appear to be inhaling her, but his eyes had darkened, and a faint smile played around his lips. He looked—predatory.

Her breath caught. “Like good, fresh meat?” she retorted.

“Like a summer day in the hills,” he said unexpectedly. “It’s an old memory. Can I have the stake now?”

“Fuck off.”

He considered her, his head leaning slightly to one side. “You do know I’m humoring you?”

Her heart thudded once, but she refused to be cowed. “You do know I’m grateful?”

“You should be. Why do you think I killed your other visitors? Just to clear the competition?”

“It crossed my mind,” she said evenly.

His gaze dropped again, this time to her lips, but his next words, although softly spoken, were hardly romantic. “I could have killed you here two years ago. I was tempted, but I didn’t do it. I could have killed you in London, in Essex, or on the train. I could have killed you tonight and still taken out my enemies with my free hand.”

She forbore to mention the vampire she’d killed. And the one who’d run away. She had the lowering feeling that it had made no real difference to the inevitable outcome of the fight.

“I know who you are,” she said coldly.

His lips curved. His head bent closer. “Then say hello as if you remember.”

There was nothing she could do. A quick, instinctive jerk only confirmed his immovable strength. Desperately, she tried to glare at him, but she was concentrating so hard on keeping the fear at bay that God knew what he read in her face as he slowly, inexorably, lowered his mouth onto hers, and fastened.

Jesus, she remembered the soft, tender surface of those lips, a tempting, seductive disguise for the controlling hardness that lurked beneath. Memory, emotion battered at her as he took his kiss and coaxed, gentled, persuaded her mouth to give up its response.

She couldn’t remember much of what had really happened two years ago. She had a vague idea she’d never kissed her ‘clients.’ But she knew she’d kissed Dmitriu, and he’d kissed her like this before. Before he’d taken her to bed. After he’d drunk from her, like a thank-you, as if the orgasm hadn’t been enough.

Shame tangled with past and present pleasure. His tongue dipped between her lips, over her teeth, and inside her mouth, caressing, exploring, inviting. Kiss me. Give me your blood, your body.
She shuddered beneath his mouth, against his hard, lean frame. She couldn’t escape him; she could only deny him her response, and so she hung in his powerful arms and let him deepen the kiss, devouring her mouth without violence, using only the devastating sensuality of his cruel, tender lips.

She could force herself not to kiss him back, but she couldn’t prevent her body’s arousal. Hot dampness had gathered between her thighs, flooding her with new weakness. She shook with the effort of resisting, of not lifting her free arm to his neck. But she’d never be that willing victim again. Never.

And yet his mouth was so sweet; his body felt so good crushing hers. One of his hands slid down her arm to her naked wrist, feeling her pulse, the bastard… His thumb moved to her fingers, her palm…

And she realized he’d taken her stake.

She gasped into his mouth, jerking against him once more, but he didn’t release her, just took advantage of her further opened mouth to deepen his kiss even more, drawing her tongue into his mouth, stroking, caressing, kissing.

“Bastard,” she whispered against his lips, and they smiled against hers and kissed some more before finally he raised his head. His eyes were impenetrable black, and yet somehow they glittered with naked lust.

His long, cool fingers touched her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Now you remember me.”


Friday, August 23, 2013

SELECTED LOVERS by Zenobia Renquist

SELECTED LOVERS by Zenobia Renquist

Caveat Emptor 7.5 - spin-off

Love, like peace, is never easy where two men are concerned.

The war is over, and now it’s time to rebuild. Rhea has been chosen at random to sit on a joint council to help decide future relations between mages, vampires, and humans. Jeremy and Colm are appointed her guards. What should have been a simple escort assignment becomes so much more when a spell meant to kill ignites a passionate encounter with Rhea caught in the middle.

Haunted by her desires and craving another threesome, Rhea knows it can't happen. Jeremy is a mage. Colm is a vampire. The men tolerate each other because they’re under orders to cooperate. Without another spell to force them, they would never agree to sharing Rhea again. She has to choose -- the mage with a satisfying kiss or the vampire with a passionate bite…or maybe the third option she hasn’t yet considered.

Caveat Emptor -- Let the Buyer Beware.


Selected Lovers (Caveat Emptor 7.5)
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Zenobia Renquist

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.

Rhea shoved her car door open, grumbling and cursing under her breath. Mondays belonged in the eighth circle of Hell along with the rest of the frauds. It wasn't a real day. It was Hell visited upon Earth in the guise of a real day. That had to be the case because no one should have to endure the amount of shit she had without divine punishment being involved.

A computer crash that ate all her work, missed deadlines that had popped up at the last minute, the wrong presentation for an important client, and to top it all off, being rear-ended while trying to merge in a construction zone. Thankfully the collision had been at a slow speed and hadn't caused any damage. Rhea rubbed at the pinch in her neck that she hoped was stress and not symptomatic of a bigger problem. She'd been too pissed off to get the insurance information of the woman who'd hit her.

All Rhea wanted was a hot bath and alone time. Lots and lots of alone time where she pretended the world outside her bathroom didn't exist. She didn't even have the mental energy to lie to herself about everything being better tomorrow.

Monday -- fraud -- eighth circle of Hell. That was all there was to it. She would be raised up from Hell as soon as she baptized herself with lavender-scented bubbles and a bottle of peach rum. She was still debating whether she would drink the entire bottle or two-thirds of it.

She kicked her car door shut and headed for her apartment. Two steps from the porch she stopped. "Fucking hell!"

A little yellow notice was taped below the peephole. The words "Delinquent Payment Notice" mocked her in giant bold lettering. Delinquent payment her ass. She paid her rent the first day of the month, every month.

She snatched the letter off the door and read it quickly. "What do they mean 'check not received?' I have a fucking receipt." She yanked her phone off her hip and pushed the power button. It was past closing time for the front office. Of course. With the day she'd been having, why would the office still be open?

She would have to call in late tomorrow so she could meet the apartment manager nice and early with receipt in hand so she could clear up this matter. Something told her waiting until after work might mean she would come home to all her stuff on the front lawn.

"Rhea Valern?"

"What?" She barked the question before turning to see who had asked. She didn't care who it was. She'd had enough. No more bad news. If one more person did one more thing to her, she would lose her mind and kill everyone in a one-mile radius, so help her God.

Two men stood behind her. Both were the same height, which was several inches taller than her, and both had an imposing vibe. The man on the left wore mage robes that cloaked his body from his wide shoulders to the ground. His light brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, leaving his chiseled, clean-shaven features free to be gazed upon... and Rhea was gazing. If he was her reward for putting up with her crappy day, she gladly accepted.

The man next to the mage, who wore tight blue jeans and a half-open button-up shirt that showed his sculpted chest, was just as yummy-looking. His blond hair was cropped short and styled into a mussed-up do that looked too purposefully mussed to be anything but intentional. Light-colored stubble graced his cheeks and chin, giving him a rugged look that appealed to her. His shoulders weren't as broad as his friend's, but that didn't make him any less attractive. And then he smiled. His fangs ruined it for her.

A vampire. Not good.

Vampires didn't frequent human-populated areas, not since the docility charms had failed, and the freed vampires had fled back to their own territory after massacring their former masters. A vampire in the company of a mage had to mean bad news -- extremely bad news of which Rhea wanted no part.

The mage said, "Rhea Valern, we have come to --"

"Not interested. I've never bought a vampire before or even stepped into a store where they were sold. I'm not a mage potential. You've got the wrong girl. Go away." She turned back to her door with her key in hand to unlock her door and make a quick escape into her apartment. If the men persisted, she would call the cops. Human cops wouldn't be of much help, but there were a few mages who volunteered to handle situations like this.

"You don't understand."

"And I don't want to. Bye now." She pushed her door open, took one step and then screamed as the floor disappeared beneath her feet. Not just the floor -- the entire inside of her apartment was a void of black nothingness.

Strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her back, except the void started pulling her too. She screamed again. The darkness had hold of her purse and was climbing up it like a snake winding around a branch. She couldn't open her hand to drop the strap. The darkness touched her fingers and freezing pain ripped another scream from her lips.

The man holding her yelled, "Stop standing there like a dumbass and do something, mage. This is your people's shit."

"Shut up, vampire. I know my job." The mage mumbled words Rhea didn't catch. It sounded like an incantation. That was good, right? A spell would end this, right?

The void yanked her into the apartment by her arm, causing her vampire savior -- she hoped he was saving her -- to hug her waist tight as he leaned back.

"Strong fuckers. Any time, mage." He huffed against her neck and made grunting noises that said he was straining. A vampire straining? They could juggle small cars with no effort. If he was exerting that much force, Rhea's arm should have been ripped off in the tug-of-war.

Except for where the darkness touched her, she wasn't in pain. Her arm was stretched to the maximum, but it didn't hurt. A slow glow crept over her shoulder and dripped down her arm like water. It touched the darkness and the darkness... screamed? Could darkness scream?

Whatever. It didn't matter. The darkness was letting her go. Rhea jerked on her arm to hurry along the process. The glow surrounded her arm, pushing the darkness back until it released her completely.

She fell back with a yelp, landing on the vampire as they toppled to the ground.

The mage rushed by them and pulled the door shut. He chanted a few more words as he stepped back slowly. The door glowed, and white script in a language Rhea didn't recognize appeared below the peephole.

"There. I've sealed it until someone else can be summoned to close that portal properly." The mage turned to her. "Now may I tell you why we're here?"

Rhea nodded with a hard sigh. The motion pushed her breasts into the hands of the vampire. In all the confusion, she hadn't realized where he was holding her.


Thursday, August 22, 2013



International Love: Book 3

What's an older woman to do when a sexy younger man has lust in his eyes for her?

Keli Ann Martin had no direction in her life after being dismissed as Entertainment reporter at the Mobile Press-Register. The decline of the newspaper business eliminated a job she cherished. One night at a club, she runs into a Biloxi, Mississippi singer named LaSalle Cox.

Sparks fly between them until LaSalle gets a recording contract in Memphis. The forty-year-old was unemployed and hoped he asked her to come along. LaSalle wasn't sure if he wanted to take their "Cougar" relationship to the next level.



A handsome African-American man strolled onto the stage and introduced himself.

“For those who don't know who I am, my name's LaSalle Cox.” He cracked a joke. “I did get hosed on American Idol, but that's cool. I'll make it without them.”

LaSalle caught the attention of Keli Ann, whose knees buckled together at the sound of his baritone voice. “I'd love to have that hunk between my legs.” Her pussy turned wet and her sexy meter sounded off.

He allowed the musician to warm up their instruments for a few minutes, and then asked the audience to be sympathetic. “I'm not at the level of Ruben Studdard yet, but please don't boo me.”

“This guy begs like Keith Sweat,” Keli Ann said to herself. She sucked on the chipped ice of her coke and was curious to hear the man's voice.



When her fiancé dumped her before the wedding, Cass took the first airplane out of her hometown. Now she’s in Africa, going through her bucket-list of things to do before she turns thirty.

One of the items on the list is to have a one-night stand. Trouble is, she knows just the guy to have that one-night stand with, and she also knows she’ll have her heart broken all over again….



This is my To-Do-Before-I-Turn-30 list:

• Eat an ostrich egg. Check.

• Play with a cheetah cub. Check.

• Swim with a dolphin. Check.

• Scuba dive in a foreign country. Double check for doing it at night.

• Skydive. Check, bonus points because I wasn’t scared.

• Dare to love again. Nah, cross it out. So not going to happen. I’ve learned my lesson.

• Make love on a yacht.

• ... With a stranger for extra points.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not into one-night stands. The idea of getting close and intimate with someone I’m not emotionally involved with gives me the creeps. I only included it in my to-do list because I was hurt and devastated and not thinking straight.

Getting dumped wasn’t on my to-do list. Neither was an impromptu trip to Africa. When my now-ex-boyfriend broke up with me, I simply sold my engagement ring and booked the first holiday package I found. My Before-I-Turn-30 list was born on the long flight towards the Black Continent.

And now I’m in Africa. The sun is hot. The air is hot. My energy levels are up there with over-boiling. In just two short weeks, I managed to put a big fat checkmark next to five items on my bucket list. Beats choosing the wedding cake, that’s for damned sure.




Probation? No booze? What?

Jude Mooney, the man who began his working career on a horse, is building an empire--but at what cost to his life, soul, and love?

Jude Mooney, the son of poor but proud Irish immigrants, is delivering ice on a horse-drawn cart to New Orleans families with his friend Pete when the novel opens in 1914. When his brother James commits suicide after a banking scandal, a devastated Jude looks for easy money and good times in the notorious Storyville, but his time there is marked by disillusionment an tragedy.

When he flees Storyville and the disapproval of his parents, Jude finds himself in his family's native Ireland. It is there that he meets the fiery revolutionary Maeve, the young woman who will set him on fire and change his life.

When he then flees Ireland with a young family, circumstances force Jude to enter the world of bootlegging and horse-racing.



That night, Jude awoke from a disturbed sleep. Maeve haunted his dreams. He sat up in bed, his body soaked in sweat. Images of her sitting across from him with the sun shining on her dark hair sent his blood throbbing to his brain. Visions of her slender body sent shivers of wanton desire through his spine, and he imagined what her skin was like under her clothing. Taking deep breaths, Jude tossed the blankets aside, stumbled from his bed, and shakily made his way to the dresser, grasping its edges. His loins burned, and he poured water from a pitcher into the basin in front of the mirror. He splashed the water over his face and stared at himself in the mirror. A voice inside echoed within the depths of his soul. Go to her. She wants it as much as you.

Walking stealthily down the hall in his bare feet, Jude looked from left to right and then behind him. He’d slipped into his dungarees but was bare-chested. Coming to Maeve’s door, he knocked softly and gently tried the door. Suddenly, she was before him, prim in a flannel gown, her hair in a long braid. Her eyes, however, defied her lady-like attire. She unbuttoned the few buttons at the top of her gown while she licked her lips. Her gaze met his, and she reached for him, clasping the blanket around his shoulders and drawing him near until Jude was so close to her that he could smell the scent of her hair. Jude closed the door with his foot and crushed Maeve against the wall as his mouth closed over hers. She said huskily, “My birthday’s tomorrow. I want you for a present.”

Jude laughed softly, bent over her, and let his lips linger along her neck and face. His breath feathered the downy hair on her neck as he buried his lips into her skin. She hungrily returned his kisses and let her open mouth devour his firm chest. She encircled his neck with hot arms and leaned hard against him. Jude slipped Maeve’s gown over her head and drew in a breath upon seeing that she was naked underneath the gown. She covered his bare torso with kisses as she unzipped his pants with frantic fingers. Within minutes, they were both naked. Jude lifted her, growing hard against her mound as he felt her legs part and wrap around his middle. He made his way to the bed, her legs around his waist. Spasms of desire and pleasure already coursed through his insides, and he leaned over her, drinking in her small frame, creamy skin, ample breasts, and shapely limbs. Maeve’s body grew taut against him, and Jude nibbled her thighs until her legs parted even more. Convulsive spasms raced through Jude’s loins as he penetrated her, collapsing onto her prone body with hurried breathing. He buried his lips in her moist hair and then let waves of sated desire pour through him.




Being friends with benefits has its rewards, but what happens when you want more?

Tessa and Gavin are at that cross road. Will they move forward, or continue being just friends…with benefits?



“The nerve of that man. What the hell was I thinking when I started up this fairy tale relationship?”

You were thinking, Dayum, he’s fine. Look at that ass and the way those jeans mold to it; the way that shirt outlines those tight abs with the hard nipples winking at you; and the way his package sat high and proud as if saying ‘here I am come take me’.

“Oh shut the hell up. Where were you when I was thinking all that? Any other time, you would have slapped me upside the head and told me to stop thinking with my hormones.”

Are you for real? Did you not hear what I just said? I would have been a fool to talk you out of at least sampling the goods.

“Yeah and look what ‘sampling the goods’ got me. In too deep and drowning.”

Well, I for one don’t care what our heart says. I need a massage and conscious has got me boiling down here.

“You shut the hell up too” Tessa said to her coochie. “If it weren’t for your picky ass, I would have never given Gavin a second thought.”

It’s not my fault I know what I like and I’m not afraid to admit it.

“Bitch please, you like anything long, fat and hard.”

I resemble that remark and still think we need to go see Gavin.

“Well, you’ll be one achy, hot bitch tonight because going to see Gavin, is out of the question.”


TO CATCH A CHEAT by Elle Druskin

TO CATCH A CHEAT by Elle Druskin

To Catch Series: Book 3

Talk about another bad day. Lindy Kellerman is back and this time her wedding plans are on hold thanks to a dead body in her synagogue. Who would whack a harmless caretaker and why?

More bad news. The killer has to be someone Lindy knows. The Sunday school teacher? The synagogue president? The rabbi?

Detective Fraser MacKinnon warns Lindy to let him solve the crime but with a killer in the neighborhood and Lindy at the epicenter of the local gossip mill, she’s determined to find out whodunit before the killer strikes again.

Murder, romance, mayhem and humor run riot in To Catch A Cheat.



Going to the hairdresser couldn’t be considered investigating. On the other hand, I’d hear plenty of yakking from all the local women. It’s unbelievable what slips at the hairdresser. Fraser couldn’t get angry and call that poking my nose in. I had a legitimate reason and could I help it if everyone spills the beans to Mr. Nelson?


I’d get Julie to go with me. Two sets of ears are better than one, especially when you get zonked by a blow job. Oops. Blow-dryer. Being a sexy babe was frying my brain.

I could hardly wait to get to the hairdresser. If the other women failed me, and I doubted that, there was Mr. Nelson. I was never sure if that was his first or last name but I did know he heard everything that went on.

I’d have to take notes with all the dirt I’d hear. Good thing I had Julie. I hoped she’d been paying attention to Australia ’s Most Wanted.

My last thoughts as I drifted off to sleep were about Fraser and fakes. There was nothing fake about Fraser. No faking it either. I was bothered by two fakes or counterfeit items turning up at the same time.

Coincidence? I didn’t believe in them. I forced myself to put it out of mind and concentrate on Fraser, heaps more fun than counterfeit or Jake the Fake.

My last coherent thought was curiosity. I wondered what would turn up at the hairdresser. There was plenty of fake stuff there. Acrylic nails, hair extensions. None of those things could relate to Paul’s death but their owners just might.


Tuesday, August 20, 2013

HEXED AND VEXED by Rebecca Royce

HEXED AND VEXED by Rebecca Royce

Olive White has had a terrible six months. It's not bad enough that years earlier she earned the nickname "Worst Witch In Witching School," she is now being forced to watch the love of her life, Campbell Bane, marry her sister Cindy. And she’s being asked to do so in a pink, puke-colored bridesmaid’s dress. Vexed doesn’t begin to describe how she feels....

Her powers pick the wedding as the perfect moment to turn on, zapping both her ex and her to a magical island not found on any map. Someone is bound to find them, but perhaps Olive can get some answers, once and for all.

When Campbell falls ill, she uses her considerable skills to save his life, but can she believe him when he tells her he still loves her and always has? Was he hexed, or is it all a flimsy excuse for breaking her heart?



“Tell me again how we ended up here. And speak slowly so I can understand every word you say.” A muscle clenched in his jaw.

“Well.” She might have preferred Campbell not bringing up her tendency to rush through speech when she felt nervous. “I think I may have, completely unintentionally of course, zapped us here.”

“You. Zapped. Us. Here.” He nodded in between each word like he needed to make sense of all of them individually before he could move on. He ran a hand through his dark hair. Strands she herself had once caressed on a nightly basis before he’d gone and decided to marry her sister, thus destroying her life.

“Exactly.” She hitched up her pink monstrosity of a dress and walked toward the inviting waves. The sea air tingled against her skin.

Campbell grabbed her arm. “Olive White, you’ve never successfully performed one spell. Not even one.”

“Yes, you would know that since you were with me every single time I bumbled one. The worst witch in witching school.” She hated that phrase and obviously, she’d made a spell work. Even if she hadn’t meant to. Maybe she could finally lose the nickname.

“Yes.” He smiled at her, letting her arm go. For a second, she saw his brown eyes sparkle like they had when he used to look at her, in the days before the whole world had shifted sideways. But then as fast as the adoration had appeared it vanished. “Well, since you can suddenly make the gift of the ancestors work, zap us back.”

Campbell tapped his foot on the sand like she should hurry up and get the job done. She stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand, at the image he portrayed.

He still wore his tuxedo. In the sand.

Dark hair, dark eyes, and dressed in a designer tuxedo, complete with a black bowtie that had to have been Cindy’s idea, he stood on the beach looking like a fish that had suddenly found itself in a bird’s nest. He really didn’t belong in his current habitat. At least not dressed like that.

Olive covered her mouth to hide her smile. Campbell always fit in wherever he went and even though it seemed mean to laugh, especially because it was her fault that he’d landed on the beach, she couldn’t help but find amusement in how uncomfortable he appeared. After her months of pain, he deserved the hours ahead of him.

He stood waiting for her to answer his declaration. Her sister’s fiancé wanted her to bring them back immediately if not sooner.

“I can’t undo the spell, Campbell. And I’m not sorry about it. Not even a little bit.”


Monday, August 19, 2013

WOMAN BEWARE by Tianna Xander

WOMAN BEWARE by Tianna Xander

Gate to Fate Book One

Life is hard. Love is hard. Being born in the wrong place and time and separated from your soul mate is agony. Fate has a plan, but sometimes, it goes astray. When lovers who can shake the worlds are parted by time and place, the Fates call upon the Gatekeeper and hand the problem over to him.
When Garrick the Gatekeeper snatches Lena from her world only to drop her onto another, Lena does what any red-blooded American girl would do. She screams bloody murder—especially when a pack of wild dogs trap her on a bridge. Is it a dream or a nightmare come true when a real live superhero flies in to save her?



Smiling, she thought about one of her friends from college. Maria loved men to the point that she wasn’t happy if she wasn’t dating at least two at a time. Ultimately, Maria ended up living with two men. Maria seemed happy enough. Yet, while a ménage relationship sounded intriguing to Lena, she wasn’t interested. Pleasing one man was difficult enough. Why in the world would she want two? It seemed like way too much work to her.

Reaching the bridge, she ran lightly up the ramp and out onto the arc that stretched across the river. Lena checked her watch again. By her calculations, she should be home in less than an hour, and she’d finish with her shower just in time to watch her favorite TV show. After that, she would go to bed and soon start a new day all over again. She wasn’t even finished with this one, and already, she looked forward to her next run.

Just as she reached the halfway point of the bridge, the ground shook violently and the sky became dark. If she didn’t know better, Lena would have thought that perhaps there was some truth to some of the movies she’d watched with Maria about extraterrestrials.

Bright light and a swirl of brilliant color surrounded her right before the bridge pixilated and broke apart. With a silent scream, Lena fell into the ensuing darkness.

“What’s happening to me?” Finally, she could hear her own screams.

“You are getting your wish, young one.”

“Young one?” Lena could have laughed if she wasn’t scared silly. “I’m nearly thirty-five.” She glanced around, seeing only darkness.

“That is young to someone like me.”

The darkness abated and Lena could see. What she saw nearly made her drool, but the man was way too young for her.

“Right,” she said with a snort. “You can’t be a day over twenty-five.”

“I am many days over that age, madam.” He smiled at her, revealing a little dimple in his right cheek that was so appealing, it was all she could do to not touch it.

Lena frowned at the thought. What was coming over her? She never had thoughts like those. She peered out into the darkness surrounding them before returning her gaze to the man before her.

“I am Garrick the Gatekeeper. I have been what you would call a fairy godfather for close to three thousand years.” He bowed slightly. “I am also called Garrick the Good.”

Lena glanced around her, looking for an avenue of escape, but she could still see nothing outside the circle of light that surrounded them.

“I am a messenger of the Wyrd sisters, the sisters of destiny. You might know them by their Greek name, the Fates.”

“Right,” Lena said as she backed away from him. “Don’t try to impress me with myth and nonsense. It won’t work. I’m not gullible.” Not anymore.

She refused to attribute this to some sort of intervention by the gods. She wasn’t even sure she believed in a higher power, let alone a bunch of gods running about sticking their noses in everyone’s life for their amusement.

“Look, mister, I don’t know who you are, and I really don’t much care. Just take me back to the bridge and we’ll forget this happened.” She nervously licked her lips. “Really. I don’t have time to fill out police reports, so if you’ll just take me back, I’ll run on home and we can both go our separate ways.”

She didn’t mention that she wouldn’t report what happened, because if she told anyone, they would most likely lock her up in the loony bin. Who would believe the bridge disintegrated and turned into little more than little square pixels like a computer-generated program before she fell through it into darkness instead of the river?

Garrick pulled something from the inside of his leather vest and checked it. “The thread locator does not lie.” He showed it to her as though she could make sense of the kaleidoscope of colors swirling around its electronic face.

“It also doesn’t say anything,” she said with a snort. “Of course it can’t lie. It’s a piece of electronics, not a person. Only people lie.” Of that, Lena was most aware.


Sunday, August 18, 2013

SWEET DREAMS by Veronica Tower

SWEET DREAMS by Veronica Tower

Daydreams: Book 3

It’s a hot summer day and Beth is engaged in her favorite pastime—daydreaming about Grant, the college-aged young man whose cut her lawn every summer since her husband divorced her three years ago. He’s on a football scholarship with a quarterback’s lean limbs, tight abs and strong shoulders and Beth would love nothing better than to figure out how to get to know him better.

She’s imagined a thousand scenarios. Can she bring herself to act on one before the summer ends?



Beth watched Grant hurry down the street from her living room window, his muscular ass moving enticingly within his tight shorts. He’d dressed in record time and run down the street after promising once again to return this evening. She wanted desperately to believe him, even if she was already having trouble accepting that this afternoon had actually happened. She was a forty-year-old divorced housewife. Women like her didn’t have sex in their kitchens with college quarterbacks. Did they?

The soreness in her pussy and the mess in her kitchen and her bedroom suggested otherwise.

She leaned closer to the window, trying to keep sight of Grant as he cut across his front yard and disappeared into his house. She hoped fervently that there was nothing about him, which would give them away to his mother. That would be embarrassing. While technically Grant was an adult and physically he was certainly quite mature, mothers probably didn’t want to see their sons in that light, especially in conjunction with a neighbor down the street. Beth didn’t want to be embarrassed, but she also knew in her heart and soul that she really wanted to see Grant again too. He’d made her feel like a woman for the first time since Doug had left her and that was worth a little risk to her.


Saturday, August 17, 2013

SCARS by Kiru Taye

SCARS by Kiru Taye

She clutches at control to cover her flaws.

He wants to strip her bare because she's beautiful.

Selina Moss hides a secret beneath her controlled happy exterior. Her body is covered in scars and she's never revealed them to anyone. She's not beautiful and she doesn't want pity.

However, it's her wedding night and husband, Benjamin Moss, is determined to strip down her barriers.

Benjamin is not playing fair, not when he's deploying breath-stealing seduction as well as mind-melting sex toys. But will he still want her when she bares all?



"There's something I need to show you in our suite upstairs."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a boyish grin as the lift doors opened. Her gaze fixated on his lips—sensuously full, they were a mix of firmness on the edges and softness on the inside—and she wondered if he would kiss her.

Her pulse rate skyrocketed as they rode up and he pulled her into the circle of his arms. He looked so handsome in his fitted charcoal suit, broad torso tapering at the hips. Leaning this closely to him, his taut muscles beneath the soft silk fabric offered protection as well as a glimpse of the possession to come. With her head on his shoulder, his all-male spice permeated her pores with every breath she took.

"You do know we can't leave our guests at the reception just for a quickie," she said. Tilting her head so she could see his face, she curled her lips in an I'd-like-you-to-take-me smile. Her womb contracted in agreement.

Truth was, she needed to get laid—the hot, fast, sweaty kind. Since she agreed to marry Ben they hadn't been together, not even for a hand job. The mad rush to organise a wedding ceremony in such a short period of time, his insistence for her to move her things into his waterside penthouse apartment in Chelsea, combined with a pretty hefty schedule at work for both of them had left little time for anything else.

"Who says we can't?"

He kissed her, a ruthless sweep of his tongue and demand of his lips. She clutched the lapels of his jacket, hanging on as sensation assaulted her.

Beneath her dress, her lacy thong got soaked as she squirmed against him. She'd worn the skimpy underwear to avoid panty-lines showing through her dress. Perhaps she should've chosen something sturdier like French knickers.

When he lifted his head, she was breathless, panting.

"Ben?" she asked when she finally got her voice back.

The dark colour of his suit emphasised the intensity of his eyes and complemented his tanned skin. With his South African heritage, his skin tone was always on the golden side, despite the recent bad weather and lack of sunshine.

"No. But I've got the next best thing for you."

They stepped out of the lift, and he opened the door to the bridal suite. She followed him in, heart pounding in excitement.

"By the time the reception is over, you'll be begging me to fuck you."




A successful bestselling author of erotica, Jayne Royale lives her life vicariously through every word she writes in her 'naughty books'. Desperate for a change of scenery, she plans a trip to her secluded lake house in order to finish off her current book. When she meets the handsome new caretaker of her property, Jayne's instantly attracted to him.

Keith Barrington hides his secret well. Being bisexual has eaten him up nearly all of his life. When he meets the sexy new bartender at the local watering hole, his otherwise routine life is suddenly shaken up. To make matters more complicated, he's also attracted to a client who's everything a man could ever want in a woman.

The new bartender at Lucky's, Tom Warner has come to Pine Bluff because it's the perfect place to hide when you want to disappear off the face of the earth, or so he'd initially thought. He never expected to meet both a man and a woman who could stir his heart. He refuses to put their lives in danger because of his stupid past mistakes. But when a hitman shows up, things become not only complicated, but also extremely dangerous.

It takes only one night to change their lives forever. And when the smoke clears, can love prevail above all?



Jayne bit down on her bottom lip when she felt Tom’s two fingers sliding between her already slick folds.

“Feels good,” Tom whispered, stroking her engorged clit. “Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” Jayne replied. She loved it. She’d only ever fantasized about things like this happening to her. But this was real and better than anything she’d ever written about in her books. The intense pressure building between her legs caused her knees to weaken. Damn it, she was coming.

“That’s it, come for me.” Tom held her close. She felt his hot breath against her cheek as she clung to him. Her head felt light and airy like cotton candy. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing deep. “Fuck your pussy with my fingers,” he ordered. “Take them inside that tight cunt.”

“Oh,” Jayne said. She wriggled against Tom’s fingers and felt them slip deeper inside her. She tightened her pussy around them, and pushed down further. Jayne lifted her hips up and down. She gyrated and fucked herself slowly. The feeling was sensational. “I’m coming,” she cried out as waves of pleasure overtook her. “Fuck me, please!”

“I think she likes it,” Tom said. “Underneath that subdued exterior lies the heart of a wild woman. I knew it.”

Jayne groaned and licked Tom’s shoulder. She was done with being proper. The inner lusty woman inside of her was breaking free.


Keith couldn’t take it anymore. He released his cock from inside his jeans and jacked it fervently. Jayne looked so damned sexy standing there with Tom fingering her hot pussy. And when she came, he squeezed his cock hard to stop from coming himself.

Keith pushed up from the bed. He went to Tom and Jayne. He slid one arm around Tom’s waist and the other around Jayne’s, pulling both to him. The heady scent of sex had already filled the room around them. He inhaled deeply and felt his cock throb with wanton desire for both of them. He wanted to fuck Tom and Jayne. He wanted them together on the bed. But for now he had something else in mind. “Both of you, on your knees.” They nodded and did as he directed.

Tom looked up at Keith and winked. “Now that you have us both where you want us, what are you going to do with us?”

Tom jutted his hips forward. He griped his cock and aimed it at Tom’s mouth. “Suck it,” he said. “Both of you, suck my cock.”

Tom licked Keith’s shaft up and down. He moved a little when he felt Jayne massaging his balls. She glanced upward and grinned wickedly before she lowered her head and concentrated on taking each in her mouth. “That’s it,” Keith encouraged. “That’s nice. Keep doing it like that. Suck my big dick. I know you both want it.”

“I want it,” Tom replied, popping Keith’s cock from his lips. “I want you to fuck me like you did the other night. I want you to pump my tight hole. Jayne, he’s good at fucking. You have to experience it.”

“Sounds rather good,” Jayne replied. She reached between her legs and played with her pussy. “I love your cock, Keith. I bet you can work wonders with it.”


Keith’s cock felt smooth in Jayne’s hand. Of course this wasn’t the first penis she’d seen in her lifetime. What mattered more was the man it was attached to and knowing the pleasure that he would give her. She didn’t doubt the motives of either man. They’d been up front with her, and she certainly wasn’t coerced into doing something she didn’t want to do.

“That’s enough,” Keith said.

Jayne withdrew his cock from her mouth and squirmed when Tom’s tongue grazed her clit. He was behind her now with his face buried deep between the cheeks of her slightly upturned ass.

“Hot and sweet,” Tom said.

Jayne looked back at him to see that he’d somehow gotten rid of his clothes and was now naked jacking his cock as he sat back on the floor.

“I want the two of you on the bed.” Keith stepped forward and assisted Jayne to her feet. He was strong as an ox. She’d never noticed his strength before until now, and with his hands guiding her to the bed, she felt extremely feminine and every inch a woman. She slipped into Tom’s arms and onto her stomach. “That’s near perfect,” continued Keith. “Lift that cute ass of yours in the air.”

SAVIOR by Hazel Gower

SAVIOR by Hazel Gower

The Inteli, 1
The Inteli, a colorful warrior race sworn to protect the galaxy, need women. Centuries of fighting and a little genetic experimentation mean their race now faces extinction.

Danickra stumbles upon his solution in the human world, and this solution turns out to be more than he could ever have imagined. But danger and betrayal threaten not only their bond, but also their lives.

Opal was having a bad day. Then she was abducted by aliens.

As she learns more about this alien race, one in particular takes her heart. But treachery is afoot, and Opal must show she’s not as fragile as the aliens think.

Can this human woman answer the call of destiny and be a savior of a warrior race?



One of the walls opened up, and a bright pink man walked in confidently. They laughed harder. Heather got off the platform bed and walked up to the man. He was brilliant, human-looking except for his bright pink skin, which was hard, almost metal-plated, and shiny like scales. His fingers were long sharp claws, and he had a long tail with a hand on its end that swished when he walked.

Heather touched his rock-hard chest. “Come out now, Ethan, before I kick your arse! I will say I love the pink. How did you get it so bright? Oh I so forgive you kidnapping us. He is yummy.”

What the hell was going on? Opal thought.

Heather took a step back towards her as the man blinked, and Opal could now see his eyes were yellow. “Wow, great contact lenses.”

His tail moved back and forth, and the hand at the end opened and waved.

“Oh. My. God,” Heather squealed.  “What great effects! The tail looks so real.”

Opal laughed and moved to join Heather. She loved Ethan, and she decided she would to buy him a thank you present for cheering her up. She smiled up at Mr. Pink. “Hi. I know my friend sent y...” She stopped mid-sentence as the wall opened again. This time a bright yellow man walked in. He was brighter than a daisy and had sky blue hair.

Opal took several steps towards him, drawn to his beauty. Staring up into purple eyes she sighed. Contact lenses were great. He was tall, easily over seven feet or more, and the chest she was currently looking at was to die for, big, broad, and she bet hard, even without the effects of the shiny scale plating covering his body.

Licking her lips, she groaned. “Yum, yum.” Mr. Pink was hot, but Mr. Yellow had her hand involuntarily fanning her face.

Walking the rest of the way to him, she looked up at his masculine face and moaned out. “Ethan really outdid himself with you. You look freaking awesome. Well you both do, but…” She reached up and touched his chest to see if it felt as hard as it looked. Mr. Yellow blinked and gave her a startled look, and then he smiled, showing wicked long sharp white fang-like teeth. Reaching up she touched one sharp point. “Wow, these even feel real.”

Her finger caught on the front tooth tip, and a drop of blood started to drip down into his mouth. “Ouch.”

Opal snatch her hand away, but quick as lighting his clawed hand gently pulled it back, and into his mouth. He sucked on her finger. Shivering, she clamped her legs together and tried to move her eyes from his intense stare. The bright purple orbs seemed to darken, trapping her as she stood on tip-toes leaning into him.

Heather’s voice snapped her out of the staring contest. Biting her lip so she wouldn’t laugh as Heather groaned, “Opal, you have to lick their skin. Whatever Ethan did, or used to make them this color, it doesn’t come off, and they taste like chocolate.” 

Turning to watch she giggled as Heather licked Mr. Pink’s muscular chest. Opal grinned and tuned back to Mr. Yellow and pointed to his chest. She needed to check this out. “May I?”

He grinned and pulled her closer. Hesitantly at first, she leaned her head in and licked his hard muscled chest. Yum. He did taste good. Chocolate. Mmm. Her favorite. He felt odd. His hard plated skin felt as smooth as satin. She pulled back and tapped on it, wondering what Ethan had used. He chuckled as she continued to explore.

Heather laughed as Mr. Pink picked her up and started to walk to one of the panel walls. “Oh my God, Opal, you don’t think Ethan paid these guys to sleep with us?”

Staring up at the gorgeous model face, she sighed. Great, just great. Ethan thought she was so desperate to lose her virginity he’d ordered male escorts, and did them up the same as his alien shoot he had done today, knowing her fantasy of being with an alien.

Heather was now trying to get down as she yelled, “I can, we can, find our own men.”

Mr. Pink growled and held Heather with both hands.

 Heather continued. “We are not that desperate to get laid. To sleep with a guy our friend hired to have sex with us, even if you are hot.”

Mr. Pink stopped and placed Heather on the ground. He then looked at Mr. Yellow, who grinned and nodded like they were making up their minds about something. Mr. Pink chuckled and stalked Heather who’d been backing away from him. He picked her up again and grinned then, walked to the panel and left, leaving Opal with Mr. Yellow.  He shrugged and stared down at her.

Opal smiled at him and tried to think of a way to word things without insulting him, and him picking her up like Heather and being carted away. “Ah, yeah, what she said. I can totally find my own ma—” She screamed as he picked her up like she weighed nothing at all.

The wall panel opened up, and Opal saw Mr. Pink taking Heather down a hallway, her friend screaming profanities as Mr. Yellow took her in the opposite direction.


Friday, August 16, 2013


HAND OF THE MASTER by Madeleine Oh

Dominant Lovers Series Book One

Helen Crewe goes to Les Santons for a new job and much needed change in her life. What greets her is fascinating work cataloging a library of erotic literature and illustrations. And then there is Luc, her definitely sexy and truly dominant employer.

Aided by his secretary Branko, Luc makes Helen feel very much at home on his estate overlooking the sea. It seems like the perfect situation—sunshine, great work and two eager Doms as lovers. Or it would be, if it weren’t for the break-in and violent attack on a fellow employee that quickly change the course of Helen’s idyllic escape.



Helen turned, swiveling the chair. Luc stood in the doorway, smiling.

God! No employer had the right to be so sexy. A smile like his should be illegal, but it was also wonderful when aimed right at her.

“Good afternoon, Madame Crewe.”

“Hi.” Seemed a rather inadequate response to his warm, and decidedly enticing, French accent.
“Branko said you’d be back late.” As if it made any difference and what business was it of hers if her employer chose to walk into his own house earlier than expected?

He gave a very Gallic shrug. “My business was over and I wanted to review your progress.”

That was easy and safe enough.

Or was it? His gaze pretty much fixated on the leather manacles. As did hers, as he reached over her shoulder, not touching, but his arm came close enough for her to feel the warmth of his skin. He picked up the first restraint, running his fingers over the red leather.

“Ah,” he said, as the corner of his wide mouth twitched. “You found them.”

Obviously. And what was she to make of that comment? Did he know about the other contents of that box? “Yes,” she replied, forcing her voice to stay level. “An interesting collection. I wasn’t sure how they should be cataloged.”

His laugh came like warm honey across her skin. All that was needed was for him to lick it off. Whoa. Not a chance. She was not getting involved that way with him. Even if he did have eyes that promised wild pleasure and…

She gulped as he ran the silk lining over his hands. His fingers were long and slender and curled over the soft leather as if caressing it. And darn him, he was watching her. Gauging her reaction. At least she remembered to close her mouth.

“You wonder how to catalog them?” he asked, and smiled. “I’m not sure one can. How would you describe the contents of my box?”

His box? He’d put it there? “Assorted sex toys,” she replied, pleased she managed it without panting or gasping.

“Yes,” he replied. “The perfect description.”

Pretty basic and hardly that impressive. “An interesting collection. Has it been in your family long?” Sheesh. Where had that come from?

Wherever it came from, it made him happy, if the glint in his eyes was anything to go by. “No, not long, Mrs. Crewe.” He was still running the restraint through his fingers. There was something almost mesmerizing about the red leather against his skin. “And these are especially fine. Made in an atelier in Milan.” He took her hand in his and wrapped the manacle around her wrist. “See how well it fits? The glove leather is like a second skin.”

Yes, she did see, and feel. Was it the softness of the leather or the warm caress of silk lining that had her catching her breath? Could be his voice in her ear and the touch of his fingers against her skin. Or maybe she was just desperate for it.

Or him. So much for not getting involved with her employer. No man looked at a woman with that look in his eyes if all he was interested in was progress of the catalog.

No, that was… “What do you think, Madame Crewe?”

That she was getting horny and he was eminently fuckable. “Excellent workmanship. Italians have always been renowned for the quality of their leather work.” She sounded like a walking tourist brochure.

Amused him though. “Indeed they have. Now tell me,” as he spoke he tightened the buckle, securing the leather to her wrist,. “how does that feel?”

“Wonderful.” She’d blurted without thinking and it couldn’t be unsaid.

“You enjoy the caress of a restraint, Madame Crewe?”

He was heating her up, but still addressed her formally. The French really were different. “I used to.”

“Ah.” One syllable carried so much understanding. “When your husband was alive?”

She nodded. God, it had been so long.

“Forgive me. I intrude where I have no right.” He unbuckled the manacle and unwound it from her wrists. “My apologies. But the leather looked so fitting against your skin.” He turned, taking both the manacles with him. “Again forgive me. I will see you at dinner.”

He might have gone but his presence remained. Did all men here wear super-sexy aftershave? His left behind a faint whiff of bergamot. Forget his choice of perfume. What was she to make of that little episode? She closed her eyes, remembering the touch of his fingers on her skin and the pressure of silk and the scent of soft leather. Darn. She was reading far too much into one casual conversation.

And if she wasn’t?

Then she had some decisions to make.

And the rest of the box to catalog. She was pretty sure there wasn’t a Dewey Decimal code for Assorted Sex Toys. She’d better invent one. Fast.


Thursday, August 15, 2013


STAIRWAY TO AWESOMENESS by Comic Strip Mama aka: Tanya Masse

30 Fundamental Steps to Living a Life of Awesomeness!

AWESOMENESS—Only YOU can choose to make the climb!

Being a happy, positive person and living a life of awesomeness is a choice. In the face of adversity, it isn’t always easy to make, but it is a necessary choice if you want to live life to the absolute fullest.

Written and illustrated with infinite wisdom and an original comic twist, Stairway to Awesomeness is the ultimate 30-step self-improvement guide that will make you want to change your life forever and encourage others to do the same.

Comic Strip Mama cartoonist and writer, Tanya Masse, shares her tragedy-to-triumph life story with the world and proves that no matter what adversity you are faced with, as long as you have a shred of sanity left, you CAN rise above and BE AWESOME!

Comic Strip Mama shows you how to:

• CHANGE your way of thinking about certain things you have been conditioned to believe
• STOP taking life SO SERIOUSLY
• Focus on the POSITIVE lessons
• Recognize the BLESSINGS
• Find the HUMOR in everything. Yes, even tragic things!

Now make your choice, and start climbing the Stairway to Awesomeness!


A little Message from Mama:

To me, "Awesomeness" is the closest thing to perfection that a human being can possibly achieve. Awesomeness encompasses so much that I will talk about in this book, but most importantly, it encompasses strength, happiness, success, purpose and self-worth — all of the things we so desperately seek throughout our journey of life. It is the ultimate feeling of being complete and living life to the absolute fullest.

The key to achieving true awesomeness is recognizing it, wanting it, pursuing it and practicing it, even in the face of adversity and tragedy!

My Intention and a Little Disclaimer

My real life name is Tanya and many of you probably know me as the Comic Strip Mama! Well, in this book I'm not speaking to you as a parent. The things that you will learn from this book will certainly and ultimately help you be a better parent, but that is not what this book is about. This book is all about learning how to change your way of thinking, how to embrace the insanity of life and how to be an awesome, strong, happy and positive person. My next book will be ALL about "the awesome, the insanity and the drama" of parenthood, but for now, what you have in your hands is all about YOU!

Anybody who really knows me as the person I am today will probably tell you that I am a strong, happy, positive, loving, kind and a little bit insane woman and mother with a witty sense of humor who NEVER takes life very seriously and who always looks for the awesome in every person and everything. *BIG deep breath* Cuz that was a really loooong sentence!

Well it's true. That is exactly who I am today. And if I can't manage to somehow find the awesome or at least the good in someone or something, I will look for the blessings, the positive lessons and the funny. It's just what I do. And that's why I love being a comic strip artist and writer!

My "Comic Strip Mama" venture all started with the simple notion that I was determined to encourage others to focus on the positive and the humor while struggling through the insanity and challenges of life and parenthood instead of taking it WAY too seriously. And I'm thrilled that I'm actually doing it! If you think about it, a lot of the negativity in the world today exists simply because people CHOOSE to take life way too seriously and that really needs to change.

The truth is I was not always this awesome, strong, happy and positive person...I had to lose a lot, struggle a lot and learn to BE this way. I will never stop living and learning and I still struggle some days, but that's ok. I know exactly what I have to do to KEEP BEING this way and that is why I'm writing this book. It is my hope that I will help others learn how to BE the same way simply because it's an awesome way to live and be. And if more people are living life being awesome and happy, think about how awesome and happy the entire world would be!



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