Thursday, December 11, 2014

SOUL FIRE by Shannan Albright

SOUL FIRE by Shannan Albright 

The Guardians of Drakkan Book 1

A dragon on borrowed time.

Crispin, king of a shape-shifting race known as Drakkan’s children has little hope left for his dying race. Without females for his males to mate with, their extinction is assured. When the mating fever grips him, he knows his time can be counted in days before he goes mad and must be destroyed.

A woman who holds the key to a race’s survival.

During the Beltane Ceremony, Aslynn Durry is one of the chosen by the god Drakkan and the Tuatha de Danann to save the shape-shifting race. Within a secluded glen Aslynn and Crispin, unite for what they think is one night of celebration, only to find both of their destinies’ are woven together.

An old enemy rises from the pits of hell to have his revenge.

The Fomorians have bided their time to strike. The alliance between the Tuatha de Danann and the great dragon god Drakkan has given them the chance they need to satisfy their thirst for revenge.

Crispin and Aslynn find themselves pawns in an ancient war. Can they survive long enough to defeat the Fomorians? Or will the hope for Drakkan’s dying children be destroyed?



Forcing her gaze from those penetrating eyes, she became aware of his overpowering presence. The air around him crackled with power, an expectant hum filled the silence in the air. Dimly she realized he was more than human, something…other. Enticing and terrible, a heady mixture coalescing into an acute awareness. An arrow of lust pierced her belly, traveling down to her core, a liquid fire making her ach to the point of pain.

She couldn’t help but be drawn to him. His massive body hummed with male aggression and dominance, a perfect counterpoint to her femininity. Long, thick hair caught on a small breeze, lifting away from a face of sharp angles and shadows. Moonlight touched upon him like a lover’s hand, casting him in silver, a god come to earth to claim her.

A fanciful thought to be sure, yet by his intense regard of her, mayhap she had the truth of it.

He strode toward her with an unnatural grace, her pulse raced with every step toward her. He reminded her of a predator, more animal than man. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs, her breathing labored as she watched him approach, forced to tilt her head up as he stopped before her. The glen suddenly seemed too small to contain such a powerful being. He slowly held out one hand to her, her eyes riveted to the long fingers. High born, not one of calloused palms from laboring in fields, but smooth, soft.

Her hand reached for his of its own accord, watching as his swallowed her much smaller one. Warmth spread from her fingers up her arm as he pulled her up to her feet with a gentle tug. His nostrils flared as she stood mere breath betwixt them.

A rumble rose deep within his chest and she trembled. Not from fear, nay it ’twas desire which throbbed in exquisite anticipation, her body pitched upon a precipice from which there would be no return. The hunger from moments ago flowed hotter; his male scent of windswept seas and cedar mixed with an undertone of musk caressed her.

A moan escaped her as she took him into her lungs, her body softening, her core turning into molten liquid. Her ears roared as blood surged through and scalded her veins. Her body prepared for his, even as her normally logical mind struggled to reason through such a reaction with little luck.

The only clarity she could summon held sway of her emotions, for in the very marrow of her bones she knew this male was hers. If only for Beltane. The gods saw fit to give her a gift. Drakkan spoke of being the hope of his children. She would grasp this with both hands, hold it tight for this one moment, and have the memories to warm her on lonely nights. For once, she would take something for herself and face the consequences on the morrow.


Thursday, December 4, 2014



Apocalyptic Series Book Three

She might be the enemy. He might have to take her down. But all he really wants to do is make slow, sweet love to her.

Grimm Forbes has been captured by sexy spaceship Captain Cari Pascale and turned into her sex vassal. But, as alliances conspire to take down his old friends at the Authority, Grimm worries that the woman who ignites his sexual fantasies might be at the epicenter of the treachery.

It's possible he'll have to make a choice between his friends and the woman he wants in his bed. He only prays he has the strength to make the right decision, because the consequences of making the wrong one will be apocalyptic.



“You were brought on board because you escaped the Avenging Angel. There were to be no survivors.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?”

Standing behind her desk, she made no move to sit. Her fingers tapped the clear, swirly surface as she frowned. “I’m not sure.” Her gaze snapped to his. “I’ve heard much about the fourth quadrant space pirates and I guess I was curious.”

Grimm slipped off the gurney, straightening his shoulders as his gaze burned into hers. “Well, here I am. Has your curiosity been satisfied?”

Her green and gold flecked gaze scoured over him, leaving behind an uncomfortable heat. “Not completely.”

Her slender fingers stilled on the desktop. She cocked her head again in what Grimm realized must be her considering pose. “There is much I’d still like to…explore.” She slipped silently around her desk again, swaying toward him with a determined set to her delicate jaw. Halting in front of Grimm, she held his gaze, rose up on her toes and captured his lips.

Heat flared in the places where they touched—the sensitive skin of their lips, the spot on his hip where her small hand rested, the dual spots below his pecs where the lush tips of her breasts pressed. Grimm’s cock pulsed beneath his jeans. He reached for her and his hand was jolted violently backward, constrained by the cuffs.

The sound seemed to fracture the spell and she jerked back, breaking the kiss. She rubbed her lips with a fingertip, still staring at him. “I’d heard the stories but I didn’t believe them.”

Grimm fought not to shift his gaze guiltily from hers. “Stories?”

She watched his lips move, her tongue coming out to slide across her own mouth before she spoke. “The pirates have become urban legends of a sort. They have the reputation for being very masculine and…sexually profound.”

Grimm snorted. “Sexually profound?”

She shrugged, giving him a secret smile.

He shook his head, lifting a hand to skim a fingertip along the pale, flawless column of her throat. “I don’t know what stories you’ve been reading, but they have nothing at all to do with me.”

A strawberry-blonde tendril touched his hand as her head tilted again. “Don’t they? I think they do, pirate Grimm Forbes. I think they have everything to do with you.” She held his identity chip up between them, grinning. She’d lifted it from his pocket as they kissed.

Damn! Grimm was impressed despite himself.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

MIDNIGHT HEAT by Sarah Grimm

MIDNIGHT HEAT by Sarah Grimm

Black Phoenix Book 2

The unconscious man wheeled into Dr. Rebecca Dahlman’s ER is sexy—devilishly sexy—and injured. This isn’t just any patient in need of medical help. He is the only man she’s ever loved—the one who still haunts her dreams.

Black Phoenix bassist Dominic Price made a mistake three years ago when he walked out on Rebecca. A mistake he plans to rectify. But first he has to convince her to open her heart to him again.

One touch of his calloused hands reignites their passion. Can they rekindle their trust as easily, or will her fears cause her to lose him again…this time to a man bent on revenge?

Chapter One

“Forty-year-old male MVC victim,” the medic shouted as he and his partner pushed the stretcher through the doors and into the emergency department. “SUV versus semi. SUV rolled multiple times before stopping to land on its passenger side.”

Adrenaline surged through Dr. Rebecca Dahlman’s system, revving her pulse, pushing away the fatigue of an overly long shift. It worked better than the half pot of coffee she’d already consumed.

“Upon arrival at the scene, patient was unresponsive. We were able to get the c-collar on him right away, but had to wait for the Jaws of Life to extricate.”

Gown and gloves in place, Rebecca ran her gaze over the unconscious man strapped to the backboard with orange belts as they swung into room one and transferred him to the ER’s gurney. Her team, already assembled in the trauma room, moved efficiently around the patient, cutting off his clothes with trauma shears, starting large bore IVs and getting vital signs.

The medic continued feeding her pertinent information as she began her assessment. “Blood pressure is one-twenty over seventy-five, pulse ninety-five. Pulse ox is one hundred percent on room air. Pupils—dilated, equal, and reactive.”

The guy was a mess. Blood covered his face, soaked the left side of his head and shoulder of his shirt. He had a laceration on his left upper arm; deep enough to require sutures, and some bruises were already beginning to form at his left shoulder and right hip from the seatbelt doing its job of holding him in place. Even more troubling was the bruise forming on his right side, a sign of rib trauma. Ribs weren’t the only common injuries from impact with the center console. The ones she couldn’t see were what caused her the most concern.

“I want an ultrasound of the abdomen,” Rebecca stated automatically as she shifted closer and listened to her patient’s chest. Lungs clear, respirations even and non-labored, heart tones audible not muffled and no abnormal rhythm. Good, no internal chest trauma. She looped her stethoscope around her neck and leaned in, searching the man’s scalp for head trauma. “Get me a cross-table C-spine, chest and pelvis x-ray. Draw a full trauma panel, type and cross, and a urine tox screen.”

Karmen Williams, Rebecca’s best friend and charge nurse for the night, pulled the man’s wallet from the pile of clothes on the floor. “Rebecca.”

Directly above his left ear Rebecca uncovered the source of all the blood. Pushing her fingers into his hair, she palpated the injury site. The wound immediately began to bleed again. “No skull fracture that I can detect.”


“I’ll want a CT scan of the head and neck.”

“Rebecca.” Karmen’s voice was tight and pulled her attention. “It’s Dominic.”

For a moment, a heartbeat really, the words didn’t make sense. Then, she looked closer at the lifeless man on the gurney. As if in slow motion, Rebecca dragged her gaze up the torso, locked it onto the face partially hidden behind long, blood-soaked black hair. Her breath snagged in her throat and she froze, the echo of her pulse beating in her ears. It was a struggle to keep her hand steady as she pushed his wavy hair away from his face and focused on his mouth, those lips, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top, the thin, straight nose.

“Stud,” she whispered, her voice torn.

His eyes were closed, ringed in thick black lashes. Were they open they would be the color of the sky just after a cleansing rain.

Her world tilted.

No. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t him. Dominic didn’t have a goatee or a scar across his right clavicle. Dominic wasn’t in California, he was in London. Safe in London.

Not unconscious and bleeding in the middle of her ER.

Monday, November 24, 2014



Black Phoenix Book 1

Thirteen years — that's how long Isabeau Montgomery has been living a lie. After an automobile accident took her mother's life, Izzy hid herself away, surviving the only way she knew how. Now she is happy in her carefully reconstructed life. That is until he walks through the door of her bar...

Black Phoenix singer/front man Noah Clark came to Long Island City with a goal — one that doesn't include an instant, electric attraction to the dark-haired beauty behind the bar. Coaxing her into his bed won't be easy, but he can't get her pale, haunted eyes nor her skill on the piano out of his head.

Can Noah help Isabeau overcome the past? Or will her need to protect her secret force her back into hiding and destroy their chance at happiness?

Chapter One

Isabeau Montgomery sat in the dimly lit bar and shook like an amateur before her first recital. Her gaze, blurred by the sudden threat of tears, settled on the keys before her. Her stomach cramped painfully, yet the need was too great to ignore.

With ability as natural to her as the color of her skin, she began to play. The waterfall of music filled the air, washed over her, completed her in a way nothing or no one else ever had. Against the razor sharp sting of memories, she fought…

She was young, vibrant, and born with a raw talent rarely seen. Classical, jazz, or rock and roll, she played it all. Loved all the genres—loved to create. All that mattered was her joy, her love for the instrument beneath her fingers and the music she was so skilled at creating.

For a good ninety seconds, joy returned, the rush of adrenaline and, conversely, the sense of belonging. In those seconds, time slowed, the lines between the past and the present blurred, and she was a child again. There was no longer pressure to be something she couldn’t be, no fear of what her future would hold.

And with the innocence of youth, no idea that everything she held dear could be lost in the blink of an eye.

The song built to a crescendo then quickly faded as pain, her old friend, returned with enough force to quash her joy. Her stomach roiled. Her breath caught.

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she dashed them away. Isabeau ran her hands up and over her face, pushing her long mass of ebony hair away from her forehead. She struggled to pull herself back together. Her fingers were chilled, cooler than normal, yet perspiration pooled at the small of her back. She closed her eyes, took a deep, slow breath.

“I didn’t expect that old thing to be in tune.”

Sweet Jesus.

She jumped at the deep baritone voice, slamming her knees into the piano. The key cover abruptly closed, and she startled again. Heart racing, she rose and faced the double doors she’d obviously forgotten to lock.

She swept her gaze around the bar’s dim interior until she spotted a dark, male frame. “The bar is closed.”

Her tone was sharp, curt, and left no room for argument. Under different circumstances, she wouldn’t inflict such rudeness on a customer, but he intruded on her privacy, her pain. Her emotions were too close to the surface for niceties.

His voice rang with a clipped British accent and the tone of someone unaccustomed to being questioned. “I was here earlier.”

She remembered the voice and didn’t need him to step out of the shadows to recognize him, which he did anyway. She’d served him a few hours ago—dark lager, no glass—and shared with him a smile as powerful as it was sexy. “We were open earlier. Now, we’re closed.”

His eyebrow shot up. His mouth shaped itself into an ironic curve. “So you have said.”

“Then perhaps you should leave.” Hands unsteady, she bussed the table closest to her and carried the glasses to the bar. His words stopped her cold.

“You’re very talented. How long have you played the piano?”

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. She closed her eyes on a wave of emotion, doing her best to will him away. But even then she knew. The man at her back was not going away.

She focused her gaze on his reflection in the mirror that ran the length of the bar. He was tall and lean, with eyes that shone with intelligence, even in the dim light. His hair was a mix of medium and dark blonde, worn long enough it fell across his forehead, nearly into his eyes, and brushed the collar of his shirt. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw.

The fine hairs on her arm stood on end as he crossed to her. She edged to the side and turned to face him. “I don’t play.”

“Of course you do. You were playing when I entered.”

“You’re mistaken.” She countered his step forward with one in retreat, ensuring that she remained out of arm’s reach.

With a frown, he stopped. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

It never occurred to her to fear for her safety, even though the bar was empty but for the two of them, the lights dimmed in deference to the late hour.

“Let me start again by introducing myself.”

“I know who you are.”

“You do?”

Of course she did. He was the person who brought back her desire to create, whose presence in the room made something inside her sing out. He was the reason she’d been driven to play tonight, after years of resistance. The reason the siren song continued to play in her head, louder than ever before. “Yes, I do.”

“And I frighten you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why do you tremble? You’ve gone pale and look as if you’re ready to bolt.”

She dodged his hand when he reached out as if to touch her. Her breathing grew shallow. She waited for him to comment. Instead, he casually tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels.

His gaze moved around the room before settling on the piano. “What is the name of the song you were playing?”

The walls were closing in on her. Her body trembled so violently she was surprised her teeth didn’t chatter. “I don’t play,” she reminded him acridly.

She desperately needed to put some space between them. However, so far he’d countered every move she made. He moved again, stepped close enough she could make out the intense green of his eyes. It was difficult to hold her ground and not flinch as he took his time studying her features, his gaze lingering on her eyes.

She was not a beautiful woman. Taken separately, her features held the potential for beauty, but together, with her mix of cultures, she had a face like a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces didn’t fit together. Her cheeks were too sharp, her lips too large, and her eyes, pale enough they all but disappeared beneath the dark tones of her father’s heritage. Neither blue nor gray, her eyes brought her the most displeasure. Most people spoke of her eyes as “peculiar” and “haunted.”

Isabeau couldn’t handle such a reference from him. “What do you want from me?” she inquired before he could comment.

“That’s a good question,” he replied, more to himself than in answer to her. “How about your name?”

The way he looked at her made it very, very hard for her to look away. “Isabeau.”

“Isabeau.” His voice brushed across her senses like a lover’s caress. His hand settled upon her arm. His very large, very warm hand.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Trapped by the contrast of his pale skin against her darker, golden tones, her mind blanked. He dwarfed her, which at five foot three wasn’t all that difficult to do. Her heart raced. His scent snaked into her lungs with each breath she took.

The scent of him broke her from the spell and filled in the gaps. She shifted away from his touch, understanding what brought him back after closing. She’d found it, tossed carelessly into the corner of a booth—his black leather jacket. Soft as butter, it held his scent. Subtle, masculine, and just enough to stir her blood as she’d carried the garment into the kitchen for safekeeping.

Where, with no one to witness the act, she’d pressed her nose to the lapel and inhaled him.

Her cheeks grew warm. She shot him a look from under her lashes. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

She felt his eyes on her as she returned from the kitchen, and crossed to stand before him, his coat in hand. Felt them still as, without asking how she’d figured out what he needed, he removed the garment from her grasp and slid his arms into it. Finally, she lifted her gaze to his.

“I like your place, Isabeau.” His tone hinted he liked more than her place. And even though everything inside her screamed to get him out of there, it was impossible not to get a little bit lost. He was so inherently sexual that any woman would have to be blind not to be affected by his virile good looks and confidence. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

She watched him go, pressing her fingers against her pounding temples. As the door shut behind him, the pain eased, the noise in her skull dropped to a more tolerable level. Five minutes passed before she dared draw a deep breath for fear his scent lingered. She didn’t need further reminders of his visit. The music that pulsed through her system was reminder enough.

He thought he would see her again, but she knew he wouldn’t. Not because the chances of him returning were too slender, or even because a man like him could never truly be interested in a woman like her.

Because she’d been waiting thirteen years for someone to truly see her.

So far, no one had.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

TEMPTING HER TIGER by Virginia Cavanaugh

TEMPTING HER TIGER (ROAR) by Virginia Cavanaugh

As a young girl, Stacia Carter had a crush on her brother’s best friend, Jordan Bayne. Grown and independent, she heads off to college and her destiny—to make him notice her as more than just the girl next door. After all these years, there’s no way she’ll take no for an answer.

Seeing Stacia again rocks Jordan’s world. She’s gorgeous, feisty, and hot…and also his best bud’s sister. No way can he have her for his own. But resisting the temptress proves harder than he thought. Maybe one more kiss will satisfy his hunger for her.



Once outside, he called out to her. “Stacia, wait up.”

Her spine stiffened and she stopped forward movement, turning slowly to face him. She gave him a shy smile and he closed the distance between them. “Hey.”

The green shirt she wore hugged her pert breasts and accentuated her lean waist. Wow, he really needed to stop noticing these things. “Do you have another class to get to right now?”

She hitched the strap of her bag a little higher on her shoulder. “Actually, I do. Can we maybe talk later?”

Black spots decorated her hand. “Pen bust?”

Her face and neck started to take on a red tint. “Yeah. Listen, I really need to go.”

“I’ll walk with you. I have an hour before my next class.” He fell into step beside her. “So, why did you choose NMJC?”

“It’s a good school.”

“Yeah, it is. But I’m betting, like Seth, you could have gone anywhere.” A breeze floated past them, stirring her hair and bringing her scent into his nose. She smelled so good. Like flowers and sunshine. He remembered the silken feel of her hair when he’d touched it in the classroom.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

DO YOU TAKE THIS CAT by Missy Martine

DO YOU TAKE THIS CAT by Missy Martine

The Wind River Pack 4

Rennia helped to rescue Ray and his sister Kati when a New York crime boss held them hostage. She was devastated when he rejected her after seeing her shift from cat to wolf. She returned to her mountain home certain she’d lost her mate forever.

Ray's family is forcing him to attend his sister's wedding in Wyoming. He’s convinced she’s making a mistake in setting up house with two men who aren’t even human. The whole idea of people shifting into animals gives him nightmares.

In one last effort to claim her mate, Rennia takes Kati’s advice and lets Ray think she’s human when they meet. For a while she’s in paradise. They’re beginning to fall in love when an old enemy strikes out at the Wind River Pack.

Will Rennia lose her mate for good when he finds out she’s not just a pretty girl?



He slipped his hand beneath her blouse and encountered her lacy bra.

For a moment, he traced the openwork design with a finger. “I can almost imagine what your body looks like just from tracing all this lace. But I’d much rather see it firsthand.” With a rough curse, he stripped her out of the shirt and bra before he lifted her. With his mouth hard on hers, he carried her to the small bedroom and laid her on the bed. She drew him down on top of her so that her bare breasts merged with his hard chest. She drank in the smell of his body with pleasure. The feel of his firm skin so intimately kindled a raging arousal in her.

Ray moved his hand down her throat and began stroking the side of her breast. “Take off the rest of it, please.”

Rennia’s fingers trembled as she pushed her jeans down her legs and kicked them across the room. Ray licked his lips as his gaze dropped to her taut breasts. He palmed one of the soft mounds and began to pull gently at her nipple. His work-roughened fingers created a rasping sensation against the firm bud, making it stand up taut and straight. She let out her breath with a moan when Ray cupped her breasts, using his thumbs to rub back and forth across her nipples.

He flexed his fingers against her skin. “You’re so soft…so damned soft.” Fondling her breast, controlling her mouth, he pressed her firmly into the mattress. Her heart slammed against the walls of her chest. Ray worked his way back down her neck and across her collarbone before moving to the aching tips of her swollen breasts. His mouth opened, and he drew the hard tip into it with a faint, soft suction that brought a sharp cry from her dry lips. He sucked it with hard, firm pulls that had her moving her legs to admit him to an intimacy that made her head swim.

Moisture pooled between her legs, and she could feel it begin to slick her thighs. Rennia wasn’t a virgin, but she’d only had one lover in college, and he’d never made her feel anything close to what she was feeling now. She held her breath as rough fingers stroked the hot flesh between her thighs. Her head went back, her eyes closed, as she shivered, biting her lip to keep from weeping, the pleasure was so overwhelming.

“Ray,” she called out, as her nails bit into his broad shoulders.

He pulled her even closer, straining against the thick nylon barrier that was all that separated them. Her pussy clenched when he hooked his fingers beneath the elastic waist and tore them from her body. “I don’t want anything separating us, Rennia. I need to be closer.” His long fingers flexed into the soft skin of her buttocks, stroking and lightly pinching. She felt a husky groan slip from her mouth, as he grew more insistent. Ray moved his fingers gently around the outside lips of her labia, not touching her clit at all. She gasped and thrust herself against his fingers, beginning to ride his hand.

“Your pussy feels like heaven. You’re sopping wet.” He thrust his fingers inside her faster as he ground his palm against her clit. She could still feel one of his hands warm and forceful against her buttocks. Taking a deep breath, she threaded her fingers in his hair and directed his mouth to her neglected breast. Her breath came whooshing out when he used his teeth, abrading the soft flesh. A few feverish minutes later he moved between her long legs and his mouth pushed hard against her lips as his hips eased down against hers. His leg became insistent between her thighs, coaxing them to move apart, to admit the slow, exquisite imprint of his body as he settled his shoulders between her legs. She groaned harshly when he licked her from her anus to her clit. “You taste so damn good.”

Ray hummed as he rimmed the opening of her vagina with his tongue and without warning he thrust it up inside her passage.

Rennia’s breath caught in her throat as she felt his tongue lap gently between her lips, barely catching her clit. Then, he suckled on the small bud and bit gently. She cried out as she ground her aching slit against his hot tongue.

Pushing up, he moved quickly to tangle his tongue with hers, thrusting gently as he had done into her eager slit. She could taste herself in his kiss. “I want you so badly, Rennia. Please, baby, don’t say no. This one’s gonna be fast, but I promise I’ll make it up to you. I just can’t wait to feel myself buried in your beautiful body.”

When Rennia managed to nod, Ray grabbed one of the condoms he’d laid on her table, moved between her wet thighs and placed the sheathed crown of his erection against her tight pussy. His finger moved to stroke back and forth over her nipple. Smiling, he arched over her prone body, resting his formidable weight in his forearms. With one hard thrust, his big cock was buried fully inside her pussy so deep Rennia felt skewered, so big her pussy felt stretched to its limits.

With a groan, Ray began to move within her. Slowly at first, but gradually quicker as desire and need overtook them, he plunged in and out of her silky sheath. Rennia moaned with each of his fierce thrusts, wrapping her legs around him, urging him on, and meeting his every thrust. Needing more, she pushed her lower body against the hard cradle of his pelvis. Rennia arched her back and screamed.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

A FAIRE IN PARADISE by Tianna Xander

A FAIRE IN PARADISE by Tianna Xander

Paradise Series 17

What’s going on in Paradise? Apparently, shape shifters are real and they’re attracted to middle-aged plus-sized women.

At least that’s what Alexa finds when she gets to Paradise. She doesn’t expect to find her friend Milla there, happily dating two men. It doesn’t help matters when she finds out that all of the single guys are gorgeous and the town motto is to care for and protect all women and children. In fact, the whole thing sounds too good to be true.

When the townsfolk suddenly start shifting into wild animals in front of her, Alexa is certain she’s gone mad. Is she strong enough to stay in Paradise with its strange secrets and the two hot guys she’s falling for who insist she is their mate?


“So, when ya gonna take me out, sugar?” the woman asked as she combed out his hair.

Damn! Why couldn’t he remember her name? She’d only cut his hair every two months since they retook Paradise six years ago. Why couldn’t he think? His mind spun, his gut burning. He studied the woman. Leaning close, he took another sniff. She smelled nice, but she wasn’t his mate.

A slight breeze hit him when the door opened and a woman walked in. Hair as straight as a preacher’s morals and black as sin itself floated around her shoulders. It shone in the artificial light, its glossy strands reflecting blue-black as she strode to the cash register. Tight jeans showed off her ample curves with hips wide enough to take a man.

Now that’s a woman. His nostrils flared. Wade took a deep breath and groaned. “What’s that delicious smell?”

What’s-her-name leaned down, pressing her lips against his ear. “That would be me, sugar.” She straightened when he chose to ignore her comment. “The usual cut then?”

Wade grimaced at her tone. She sounded pissed.

“You know what?” He stood quickly, grabbed the black nylon material draped around him and yanked it free. She wasn’t getting a razor anywhere near his head using that tone. “I forgot I have an appointment in…” He checked his wrist. Damn! He’d forgotten his watch, as well? “In about fifteen minutes. I gotta run.”

Grabbing his hat, he jammed it on his head and hurried for the door.

It wasn’t until he nearly ran down the woman at the counter, buying shampoo, of all things, that he realized where that wonderful aroma originated. His gut clenched, his insides going into meltdown as he stared at the gorgeous woman who stood in front of him.

He wanted nothing more than to grab a lock of that glossy black hair that fell around her shoulders and bring it to his nose. Perfect brows rose with surprise when he grabbed her upper arms. Sparks flew between them, and the hair on his arms stood on end, the sensation not unlike a transformer exploding in a lightning strike.

The woman, no, the goddess, stared up at him, her startled gaze frozen in a mask of beautiful and obvious amazement.

It did Wade’s heart good to know she was as affected by their contact as he was.

“Excuse me.” Wade managed to squeeze the words out as he stood staring at pure feminine perfection.

His heart raced, his chest ached, and he realized he’d forgotten to breathe. What really shook him up was when his beast lifted its head and he sniffed the air again.

Mate! The word shimmered in his mind. Deep within his human form, his cat stretched, unsheathed its claws, a low rumble in its throat, his throat, and it repeated the wonderful, fateful word…mate.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

BLAKE'S HOME by Cheryl Dragon

BLAKE'S HOME by Cheryl Dragon

Love Shack 1

Plenty of men have tried to get ranch hand Blake Louis to The Love Shack but none succeed. At the White family ranch, Blake has found friends and a home. He desperately wants to stay. Yet he must keep his shifter secret and avoid his feelings for Jared White. This job has to work out. No one ever wanted him forever—none of his family did—so why would a rich successful rancher want more than a roll in the hay with a dirt poor ranch hand?

Screwing the staff is a bad idea but Jared White needs more than sex from Blake. The men are friends but he’ll risk it for a chance at more. Love has never worked for Jared and a childhood rival delights in sabotaging him. Jared can’t give up hope. He believes that Blake is the one.

The only smart place to start is The Love Shack, a neutral place where Jared isn’t the boss and Blake isn’t the hand. Determined to win Blake’s heart, Jared delves into Blake’s past. As amazing as the sex is, Blake resists sweet promises. Love, trust, and happiness are as crazy to Blake as the bobcat he can shift into.



Streamers and balloons dotted the wide yard behind the massive house so no one missed the party, as if anyone could. The massive outdoor barbecue was an acre of people solid. Nonessential work at the White Ranch was suspended for the sixty-fifth birthday of the patriarch and owner. The families from the three bordering ranches and their staff were also invited.

Blake Louis hadn’t seen that many people outside a big city, and he rarely went to the city. His muscles ached for any excuse to hop on a horse and ride out into the open fields. As a ranch hand here for all of four months, he knew the White family, but everyone else was just by reputation and gossip.

After working his hour at the barbeque, Blake hung back and helped where needed. He didn’t have shiny new boots, crisp collared shirts, or even new jeans. The event was far from black tie, but even the White boys brought out their best hats and boots for the occasion. So Blake just watched, content in the fact that he liked his new job and had eaten his fill of excellent barbeque.

A well-built man with curly brown hair nodded to Blake from several feet away. Blake smiled and almost looked behind him. His attempt to be invisible had failed. The man was from the Chester ranch and had been strictly hanging with that group most of the day. It took time, but Blake was starting to catch on about some of the rivalries and egos. Even on a huge Montana ranch, politics and games still happened. That didn’t mean Blake couldn’t enjoy the view of hot men.

Blake stoked the fire and pretended not to notice the attractive man coming closer. The four ranches were neighborly and competitive at the same time. Blake was still new and didn’t want to step on the wrong toes. The flutter of arousal was hard to ignore.

“Are you the master chef?” the man asked.

Blake lifted his worn hat and wiped his forehead. “No, not me. Just a ranch hand helping out. I’m not the best at being social. Blake Louis.”

The other man extended his hand. “Randy. Nice to meet you, Blake. You should circulate and meet some new people.”

Shaking Randy’s hand, Blake felt a playful squeeze. The sexual undercurrent tormented him. “I’m fairly new to White’s Ranch. It’s a big place with plenty of work.”

“Gotta have some fun, though. It’s a party.” Randy took two steps closer and slowly pulled Blake in a bit before releasing his hand. “I haven’t seen you at the Love Shack. You should come by the Chester ranch some time. No work, just a ride or something. It’s nice to have fresh blood around here.”

Fresh blood? The term left Blake uneasy. “A good ride is a nice way to spend a day off.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Randy said.

Blake nodded as Randy was called away by one of his earlier companions. Avoiding major personal entanglements was a goal of Blake’s, and he’d managed to succeed since getting this job. He wanted to find a place to settle, and this place had potential. Moving on all the time had grown old.

None of his previous employers had treated employees as well as the Whites did. The family members worked every bit as hard as the staff and weren’t snobs. The pay was better than fair, and the food was great. Blake wanted a future here.

The only problem was the crush Blake had on the sexy youngest son, Jared White. Over the months the attraction had grown to friendship and a longing for something more. Blake did his best to hide his affection, but Jared was friendly.

The target of Blake’s interest crossed his path, and he stopped short. “You did your time, you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

Blake grinned at his biggest temptation. The man was just shy of thirty and haunted Blake’s dreams. “I was just people watching.”

The fact that Jared was the main guy he’d been watching until Randy had interrupted him hopefully remained a secret. Jared had short black hair, blue eyes, and plenty of muscles to make women and men stare. A sturdy six feet two, Jared made it hard for Blake not to lean on that sexy shoulder. But Blake had years of practice at self-control on many levels.

Jared made this job complicated for Blake. Every place he’d worked, he ran into an issue. White’s was a nice place. Crushing on the boss’s baby boy wasn’t smart--even if Blake was two years younger than Jared. Blake had bigger reasons to stay away and his shifter secret was harder to explain than his turbulent childhood.

“I’ve been trying to drag him to the keg, but he’s trying to impress you.” Frankie Saunders wandered up next to Jared.

Blake shot the other ranch hand a look that said shut up! Frankie was a lean, mean, blond, spiky-haired, gay flirting machine in his mid-thirties who loved to stir any pot nearby. He’d become Blake’s friend and the only one who knew about his crush. However, thanks to the picnic, Blake had learned that gay wasn’t something that needed to be a secret here.

“You’re a hard worker, Blake. Enjoy your time off. We don’t do huge parties like this all the time. Come to the Shack tonight and have some fun.” Jared smiled and patted Blake’s shoulder.

Hank, the oldest of the White boys, called Jared over, and the sexy cowboy was gone. Blake stopped flexing and relaxed.

Frankie’s grin got even bigger. “We need to go to the Shack tonight. He invited you. Take the hint and hit on him already. Or is Randy more your type? Playing hard to get was smart. Jared noticed.”

“I don’t know Randy at all, and he came up to me. But he mentioned the Shack too. Jared is basically my boss. I don’t want to screw this up. He’s just being nice.” Blake looked out at the crowd and felt like he was being watched. “All these people are making me nervous.”

Frankie shrugged. “There is some checking out the competition at these events. Enjoy the eye candy while it’s here. You have more options than Jared, if doing the boss is so scary.”

“The Love Shack is asking for trouble.” Blake shoved Frankie playfully. Having a job where it was safe to be gay motivated Blake even more not to slack. The Shack was where men went to drink, hang out, and hook up in the back room. The amenities of the Shack were free to anyone who lived at or worked for the four ranches that supported it; the old pole barn sat on the spot where the four properties met. Rumor was it used to be an emergency shelter when weather turned or vehicles gave out--now it had two functions.

“No, the Love Shack is about having fun. You don’t have to go to the back room. The front has a bar, pool table, TV, and all that. Plus it’s free and not far. Saves hands from blowing their paychecks in bars or on hookers. Keeps them from driving when they’ve had too many--you can always get a ride. Everyone wins. You don’t have to suck anyone’s dick.” Frankie grinned like he knew Blake couldn’t resist.

Blake liked having friends and people who had his back. The Love Shack sounded appealing, but Blake didn’t drink too much. Giving in to temptations wasn’t a habit for him. To say his mother had addiction issues was an understatement. He wasn’t about to repeat her mistakes.

What he really wanted was to move up and have a career, if he could stay here. Love was a fantasy sold by society. “Getting drunk and screwing random guys won’t earn me a promotion.”

“Screwing Jared might. Show him your take-charge side,” Frankie teased.

“I don’t want a job that way.” Blake noticed the big guy from earlier eyeing him. “Who is that Randy guy?”

“Randy. That Randy? He’s a Chester. The middle son of the Chesters’ ranch. There are a zillion Chesters. They employ cousins and all live there. Hell, they reproduce like bunnies,” Frankie said.

“So why’s he looking at us?” Blake didn’t let the flattery or surprise show. Randy was a family member. Here it didn’t matter what color you were or where you came from. You were part of the owners’ level or staff level. They interacted and respected one another, but staff was replaceable. Blood was not.

He’d been invited riding by a Chester? The guy was well dressed, but he could’ve been staff. Crap! Jared was a good guy, but Blake didn’t want to upset any of the owners. He could go and be social at the Shack. Blake shifted his weight and sucked in the fresh air of fall. It was still nice out, but winter was coming. He’d need better clothes to trudge through snow. Being from the south, he didn’t really want to experience a real winter up here.

But he didn’t want to leave White’s Ranch. The thought of leaving knotted up his gut.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw Randy drooling all over you before. He’s the gay one that I know of. Plus he and Jared always had a little competition between them. That little ranch hand hottie next to him is Carter. I’ve seen them screwing at the Shack. But they get into group stuff. Way too wild for you. Come on, you need to know more of these people.” Frankie led Blake by the arm.

“Sure. Thanks.” Blake checked out Randy and the ranch hand. If he wasn’t going to go after Jared, he’d need to have a little fun eventually. Then again, a casual group thing, maybe no one would notice or care?

“Those are the Greens. The oldest son is a closet case, sort of like Hank, but their patriarch isn’t as open-minded as Mr. White. At least that’s the word around the barns. They are known for showing horses and breeding them for racing.”

“Hank’s in the closet?” Blake hadn’t paid much attention to the elder White brother except for work. Tall, broad, and intimidating by any standards, Hank was mid-forties and all business.

“Yes and no. He’s a workaholic. He and Jared never go to the Shack on the same nights. Hank is extremely discreet. He has a glory hole addiction, so nothing personal.” Frankie rolled his eyes.

“You like Hank?” Blake had noticed the glint in Frankie’s eye when he talked about him.

“I like all hot gay men. I don’t discriminate. He might need a little help out of the closet someday, and I’ll probably still be here. But you have a good shot with Jared so stop dragging your cowboy boots.” Frankie glanced down. “You really need to get a new pair too. Not to be a fashion diva, but everything you own is pretty worn. Winter here is rough.”

Blake always wore his stuff totally out before splurging on new things or used things. “I’ve moved around a lot. Money is tight. Not every ranch is cool with gay hands or pays decent. Plus, I don’t like waste. When something wears out, I replace it. But it’s still warm out--no reason to pull out the new winter stuff.”

“You’re good here. Everyone likes you, even Hank is impressed. Clothes I get, but those boots look older than you are. Okay, fine, I’m dropping it, but you’re on your feet a lot. Solid quality is what I mean. It’s not allabout show.”

“I’ll look into it.” Blake had resoled his uncle’s old pair a few times. Maybe someday...

Frankie turned and pointed at the small circle. “Last of the four families are the Austens. They are more proper, very religious and conservative. Heavy into traditional cattle, they don’t diversify and don’t socialize except when it would be rude not to. See, they’re all clustered together. None of their staff is here.”

“Weird. They don’t let their staff come? Glad I didn’t get hired over there. I’ll try to keep it all straight. It’s a lot of people to learn. Their staff comes to the Shack?” Blake asked.

“Austen staff? Sure, but they don’t want to get caught with their pants down. The Austens only support the Shack as an emergency shelter but understand the social outlet keeps the barn well maintained. It’s not all about the sex. Plenty of the straights come for a free drink and premium sports on a big TV. When they’re horny, they venture into town, but the rest of us enjoy the perk of the back room. You’re missing a huge benefit of working here. Lots of stress-relieving, hard, sexy cowboys. They’d love to have you there.” Frankie bit his lower lip.

“Subtle.” Blake laughed, but the temptation grew bigger. “Jared asked me so I guess I should go.”

Frankie nodded. “It’s not a date so don’t get weird. Get him in the back room and enjoy. That’s a step in the right direction.”

The idea sounded great, but Blake didn’t want to be just sex. That’s all he’d really had from men all his life. He didn’t want to get his heart mangled when he was finally feeling safe here.

Maybe it was a mistake, but he’d begun to hope for more in life than hard work, poor wages, and random gay bar hookups. Love was a mysterious thing that happened to others. Security was real. He had the ranch skills and somewhere he’d be more than just a hand.

“We’ll see.” Blake shrugged.

“Hedging your bets. Blake, you’re good. You’re the best hand here. Everyone knows that you have a diverse background, and you’re an asset. Hank wants you on his dairy addition project,” Frankie said.

“I know nothing about dairy cows. I’ve worked goats, pigs, cattle, and horses, but dairy is not my area.” Blake had already told that to Hank.

“Right, but you learn fast and you’ve done a bunch of different stuff. Pigs and goats--Hank has talked about both. Moving around and working ranches all over is good experience Hank and Jared don’t have. Most of us grew up locally without opportunities. We ranch what we know. Cattle and horses. That’s Montana.” Frankie nodded to the big blue sky.

The view made Blake never want to leave. Acres of rolling grass and countless heads of cattle grazing in the distance. The Whites’ main house was a huge two-story aptly painted white with maroon trim. The employee housing was the nicest Blake had ever seen. “Winters will be rough.”

“Brutal, but it’s every bit as pretty with the snow. We find ways to stay warm.” Frankie headed toward the dessert tables.

“Did you boys get enough to eat? You both look a little lean to me,” Mrs. White fussed.

“I’m stuffed, thank you, ma’am,” Blake said.

“It was delicious,” Frankie added.

“I hope you saved room for the main cake. You have to try it.” She wagged a finger at them.

“We will. Can’t wait.” Frankie nodded.

Blake wanted to contribute, but he found himself tongue-tied. Women always found fault with him. His mother. His aunt. Nothing he ever did was good enough or right. Mother figures especially made him uneasy.

Men he could handle. Men he understood. He took off his hat and smiled politely at Jared’s mother.

Jared walked up next to his mother. “Where’s Hank? It takes two to carry that monster cake out. Why can’t you just make a few shorter cakes?”

“It’s not as impressive.” She put her hands on her hips.

“This isn’t a wedding.” Jared rolled his eyes at Blake.

“If one of my two single boys would give me a wedding to throw, maybe I wouldn’t need to go all out for your father’s birthday? Get these two to help you. Hank is dealing with the Greens. They’re always trying to buy all our best horses.” She pointed out her eldest son.

“I’ll help,” Blake said a little too enthusiastically. Then it was too late to take it back.

He followed Jared into the big house, enjoying the view of Jared’s ass in tight denim.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

THE LORD by Laura Tolomei

THE LORD by Laura Tolomei

The Virtus Saga Book 8

The book that ends it all—the fight, the unbalances, the uncertainties, the denial, the incomprehension—and begins everything anew: life, love, sex, passion and the future of their world forever assured! Be sure to catch the explosive conclusion of the hottest dark fantasy series on the web!

Join Duncan, Ylianor and Chris in the explosive conclusion of the Virtus Saga. The book that ends yet begins it all anew.

Angel or Demon? Angel and Demon! Two faces. One fucking gorgeous man! And only two people to switch him either way. Now he’s going to prove himself to the entire universe. The past in his power. The present in his lust. The future in his temper. Because as he says, us is sex!

Last book of the series, Virtus Saga's chapter 8 continues and finishes the dark fantasy story of Prince Duncan Caldwell, now Leader of the High Council, Lord Templeton, his lover and co-leader, and Ylianor Meyer, their woman and the other co-leader. The tale started in The Sex, Virtus Book 1, with Duncan and Ylianor meeting again after a ten-year estrangement. Then it continues in The Game Book 2, The Festival Book 3, The Leader Book 4, The Pledge Book 5, The Heat Book 6 and The Princess Book 7, each picking up from where the previous one leaves off. Given the saga nature of this ongoing fantasy series, it is advisable to read each book in sequence.



“Everybody’s feeling it at work.”

“They’ll feel it all the more the second you get your ass up on that stage.”

“Me?” What? Did I miss something? “What are you talking about?”

“That it’s your turn up next.” Duncan glanced at the two men splitting their woman to bits, one ramming her front, the other her back. “Right after they’re done.”

“But I could only do it with her.” It was such self-evident axiom, he felt stupid for saying it. “Or with you.” This was even dumber. “But if she—”

“She’ll be all yours for this special performance.” The leader grinned. “Nothing in between the two of you.” His tone became huskier, “Weren’t you worried she was getting all work and no play?”

“Yeah, but…” To show his true feelings right there in front of everyone, Chris was not sure it was such a great idea.

“Listen, Angel.” Cupping his face between his palms, the prince drew him near. “You and her were the first to make me understand how easily sex brings out your deepest emotions, even the ones you fight so hard to deny.” So close they could have kissed. “If you go up there, it’ll get my point across faster and more effectively than any of the other acts did so far.”

“I don’t see how it could make a difference who’s up there.” Chris held on stubbornly. “Everybody’s paying marginal attention as it is—”

“They’ll be exceedingly attentive if it’s you and her.”

No, he did not need Duncan to kiss him and make him lose perspective of what they were talking about.

Which was exactly what the prince did.

Remember what I told you at Plantimore Cliffs? Unfortunately, he also deepened the sweet exchange by slipping his tongue inside and sweeping Chris’s wet cavity as though it belonged to him.

Which, for the record, it did.

“Hem…” If Chris could mumble, it was because Duncan had broken off the kiss. “Vaguely.” Well, he might have remembered had the kiss not fucked up his mind.

“I told you it was high time you showed how much you love her.” With a chuckle, the leader tilted up his head. “And I meant it not just for Richard’s sake.” His black eyes flashed. “And that’s what I expect you’ll be doing in a few minutes from now.”

Chris straightened and focused. Yeah, now he recalled what Duncan had said and how easy it had been to let his love flow in front of Richard and Lucy.

“It’s going to be even easier now, Angel,” Duncan whispered in his ear, “Now that you’ve accepted it yourself, and that you’re not afraid of showing how much you care for her.”

“And I owe it all to you.” Because no one knew him better than Duncan did. No one knew how to push his buttons better than Duncan did. “But shouldn’t you be up there with us?” It was not a challenge, more like a reasonable request. “I mean we’re all in this together. As much as I love her, I love you, too.”

“Are you going to hold the princess’s logic against me?” Duncan teased.

It was a clear reference to how Ylianor had convinced them to a three-way pledge.

“I most certainly will.” Chris gave the prince his best smile. “It’s as true today as it was when she said it.” His lips captured Duncan’s. Taking the initiative, his tongue forced them apart for a taste of his amazing lover. “If not more.”

“All right, I may join you.” His gaze shifted to the center.

The two men were coming all over their woman and blazing with the force of their collective love.

“But you start first. I don’t want them to miss your vibes or to get them mixed up with mine.”

Hardly recovered from their deep sharing, of fluids and feelings, the three were moving off, and already another woman was petitioning for her and her lover’s chance to be in the spotlight. “Leader, Romy and I—”

“Sorry, ladies,” Chris cut them off. “My lovely mate needs a definite break.” Getting up, he reached the table where Ylianor was standing. Don’t you, sleeping beauty?

I never thought the great Lord Templeton would stoop so low as to embarrass himself in front of everyone, she mocked.

Then again, maybe she did not deserve it.

Orders from above, dearie. So he played it rough. Nothing I’d be doing of my own volition, he lied shamelessly. Not with a no-good slave, anyway. But the second he clasped her arm to pull her close, all pretenses fell from him.

No, he did not fight the tide of love overwhelming him as he brought his lips down on hers. To be honest, he could not. She tasted so sweet, exciting and yielding in his arms he simply wanted to drown in her and melt his fire in her slippery liquid that enveloped him like a nurturing balm. And his reaction was opening her up in ways he had seen happen only with Duncan. It was like there had been one last barrier between them that was crumbling under his complete acceptance of this love.

Every part of it.

None excluded.

By the gods! What a selfish bastard he had been to deny her for so long!

Let’s not dwell on the past, Demon, her soft voice boomed in his mind, Only on the future and on your powerful love. Bending against him, she parted her lips wide, swallowing his tongue whole.

He became lost in her. It was not just a physical sensation. It was more of an immaterial one, with her holding him inside her, like the son she was carrying, except it was the man she had within her.

Yes, she had always owned him.

Only he had been too foolish to admit it. And it did not feel strange anymore to have two people own him. It was not like he was split up among them, either. No halves, the whole of him belonged to both. Body, mind and spirit completely devoted to two, angel and demon, both sides of him at their complete disposal, one shiny being for two.

With the love came the irresistible attraction, the one he felt for no one else but these two astounding individuals, the same that justified his vicious side and the bloody game. For he had his answer now. He did not play it because he wanted to hurt her. He played it because he could be truly himself with her alone. If with everyone else he had to erase the memory after acting out his deepest fantasies, with her he had no need to, for she accepted him exactly as he was. Now he could keep doing it without remorse or guilt. Not just because the prince was a part of it, and that alone had made it possible for his two opposites—the angel and the demon—to reunite. Because she was the key to it all, and this awareness had just brought that game to a whole new level. A sophisticated and seductive level he would have never thought possible. A level he could access only with her as his victim, his prey, his woman. And that turned him on more than if he had his knife at hand right now, or almost as much as having her body crushed to his despite the pronounced belly of her now visible pregnancy.

Never in his life would he have thought to crave a woman the way he craved Ylianor. He—who had scorned women, pregnant ones in particular—could not keep his hands off her. His cock had become so thick with a mere kiss that it ached. Whether because his tongue had reached her stomach, or whether because her cunt rubbed against his groin with that characteristic sway of hers and took care of his erection—whatever the reason, his arousal was maddening, requiring an immediate satisfaction he had no intention of granting at the moment.

Pushing her gently toward the table, he made her lie down as his mouth broke the tantalizing kiss to move down to her cunt. He did not hurry to reach it. He wanted to take his time to nibble and savor her most delicious parts, like her breasts. Tonguing her taut buds was a way to hold his excitement in check, or so he hoped. Truth was—the more he stroked her pointy tips, the stiffer his meat piece became. Which was nothing comparable to when he went close enough he could smell her craving.

Talk about wet!

She was dripping like a fountain, her honeydew trickling down her thighs. Her flavor was even worse. Strong and pungent, it clung to the tip of his tongue before it slid right down to his balls. Her clit was a throbbing knot begging for someone, anyone, to burst it. Her inner lips were so puffed up he could just imagine how fiercely they would cling to a shaft, any shaft and swallow it whole in one avid gulp.

He went further down…oh, boy!

Her ass was always a temptation he could never resist. He lifted her legs, so he could also see the wrinkled entrance he longed to possess right here, right now. Even if it was with his erection, he forced himself to bide his time and let the tongue have fun with it first. Rimming the narrow edges was a way of increasing his anticipation, anyway. He just hoped he would not explode instead of her, not yet anyway.

Plunging inside confirmed how close he was to the edge. But she was closer. The trembling of her flesh as he penetrated it again could not hide it. And raising his gaze, he understood the reason why.

Straddling her, knees pressed around her face, Duncan was feeding her his gigantic equipment. That was certainly bound to tip her over the edge, so Chris did his best to help her. Returning to the swollen clit dancing on its own, his tongue crushed it under a savage attack. At the same time, he let go of one of her legs. With calculated ferocity, he shoved into her pussy and ass, stuffing both with two fingers each.

It was the end of her.

Arching her back, Ylianor shattered under his very eyes. Lucky for everyone, Duncan occupying her mouth prevented her scream from leaving their heads. Or perhaps luck had nothing to do with it. If he knew anything of how the three of them worked, his lover’s choice of sexual service had nothing casual about it. He and Duncan both knew how loud sleeping beauty could get when she lost control, and this was undoubtedly one such occasion.

Despite his cock’s furious jerks and protests, Chris continued ignoring it. Concentrating instead on her drenched cunt, he lapped it generously, teasing the swollen edges of her pussy and thrusting into their welcoming entrance. Her ass was equally welcoming, opening up to his solicitation as though it wanted nothing else, while she kept coming over and over, unstoppable.

“Fuck, Angel.” The leader’s throaty whisper did not go lost on Chris. “I think I’m about to come.”

“No, wait for me, lover.” He lifted both her legs again. “Aren’t we supposed to give them the best show ever?”

“That’s why you should hurry up.” The prince’s full lips curved in a snarl. “‘Cause she’s too hot for me to slow down any.”

“I understand perfectly.” No, Duncan did not have to spell it out.

Adjusting her rear hole in front of his erection, he swung his hips forward and centered it at the first hit. Unsurprisingly, she came again. No, actually she had never stopped coming, and her frenzied convulsions hampered his thrusts to her guts with all that clenching and relaxing of her muscles in fast waves. But the moment he was half inside, the swells took over and sucked his rigid beast to the hilt, also beyond had there not been a natural limit. Incredulous to say the least, Chris could practically remain still while her contractions did all the work, accelerating it to the point he lost it mere seconds after he had penetrated.

With Duncan’s climax filling her mouth and overflowing down her cheeks, Chris unloaded a split second apart. And the prince catching his lips in a deep kiss intensified everything.

Too bad it had to finish. Were it up to him, he would have let it go on and on like their orgasms, which seemed endless because time had slowed down to freeze their moment. But eventually, everything sped up again.

“I want more of her.” Prince Caldwell’s growl testified to his deep-rooted craving, in case his hard cock did not talk loud enough.

“Me, too.” Chris waited for Duncan to pull out of Ylianor’s mouth. “And if you just lie down, we can share her again.” Raising her from under her armpits, he cradled her against his chest.

The new position took only a second. Prince Caldwell slid to fill her place. Then Chris fitted Ylianor’s butt over the thick equipment standing on its own. After his fucking, she was nice and large enough to receive just about anything. So Duncan’s shaft speared it to the hilt in no time at all. When he was securely embedded, Chris spread her legs and plunged in the silky wetness of her slit.

Wet was an understatement.

She was more like an ocean of moistness, and he was only gladder the prince’s erection ramming her rear tightened her front space, too, or he would have felt nothing otherwise. With the double penetration, instead, her pussy squeezed enough for his monster to come close to a climax again.

He loved it. Flattening her against his lover’s chest, feeling her flesh wrapped around him, smelling her and Duncan with one gulp of air—Chris was floating on his own sensations. Not just the physical ones, the emotional ones as well. His intense love was like a giant balloon grown to fill the sky. Pushed upward by Duncan and Ylianor’s strong feelings, it would take him next to nothing to turn into his fiery essence and soar. It would take next to nothing to tear both his lovers away from the material dimension they were in and—

Stop, Angel! The deep voice exploding in his mind followed the powerful restraint Chris was coming to learn as the leader’s control over him. We don’t want to give that much of a show.

Refocusing, Chris suddenly realized that everyone was staring at them. Literally. No one was having sex. No one was even kissing. Their gazes all glued on them, like Duncan had said they would, including Cecilia and David’s, who were watching from a side.

“I’ll be damned!” Chris exhaled softly, slowing his pumping.

“I told you.” Catching his gaze, the leader held it. “You’re too good for them not to notice.” Shifting slightly, he managed to slip his huge monster inside sleeping beauty’s ass to the very root. “Only you should keep it to the sex.”

Fortunately, their voices were more like whispers, so for sure no one heard them.

“Yeah, I get it.” Turning, he caught the green eyes full of love. “It’s just a fuck, sleeping beauty.” Which was the farthest thing from the truth. “So don’t your hopes up.”

Monday, October 13, 2014

THE WARRIOR Box Set by Rebecca Royce

THE WARRIOR by Rebecca Royce

The Warrior Series by award winning author Rebecca Royce - Initiation, Driven, Subversive, Redemption, and Justice - all in one place.

Rachel Clancy was born to fight the monsters that go bump in the night. In a post-apocalyptic world, she and her fellow Warriors are all that stand between what is left of humanity and the monsters who stalk them. Her destiny seems written--fight or die. Until one fateful trip Upwards changes everything. Follow the story as one sixteen year old girl changes the course for human kind forever.

Initiation is the story of sixteen year old Rachel Clancy, born with a specific set of genes that let her fight monsters, she has trained her entire life to kill Vampires and Werewolves. Knowing since birth what her destiny would be has not made the onslaught of emotions she faces as she journey Upwards any easier. It doesn’t help that her father is drunk and her best friend just doesn’t get ‘it.’

Rachel isn’t prepared for the level of deception she faces, and before long she will find herself on a quest she is in no way prepared to handle. What happens next will alter not only Rachel’s life but the lives of everyone she knows. She will learn beyond a shadow of a doubt that sometimes the monsters we know are worse than the ones we don’t and that love can surprise us when it comes from somewhere we never anticipated it.

If she lives, she will be a Warrior. If she doesn’t, no one will ever remember her name.

When Rachel Clancy turned sixteen, she inadvertently changed the lives of everyone around her. Now, six months later she has to figure out how to live with what has happened.

Sent back into the wilderness—this time with a new love—she will find herself face-to-face with two people she never thought to see again: the boy she thought she loved and the man who wanted to destroy her since birth. If Rachel can learn what drives her forward, there may be a chance for everyone to start again. If she fails, all is lost.

Rachel Clancy has been through a lot. With a mission to fight vampires, while losing two boyfriends—one to a vampire and one because of his daddy issues—she is in charge of a secret revolution that could change Genesis, her home, forever. Her confidence is shot, her hands are shaking, and she hasn’t felt a real emotion, except for anger, in a long time.

But Rachel should never be counted out. She sees things others can’t, even if her ideas are considered downright traitorous. The life destined for Rachel is to lead in the world, filled with vampires and werewolves instead of romance and flowers—always forced to fight to stay alive and vanquish any threat to her friends and family. But no matter how many times she’s won, the evil that has stalked her never forgets her name….

Rachel Clancy made a decision to erase herself from the lives of her friends and family. She did this, she believes, to free herself up to make some hard decisions. Only to realize out she was manipulated by a master into doing just what he wanted. Now, she is alone with no one to turn to for help.

But fate isn't done with Rachel. When she is thrust back into the path of her former people—who have no idea who she is—she will find that life gives second chances. Will she gain redemption? Or is it too late…?

My name is Rachel Clancy, and if you’re reading this, chances are I am dead. I have returned to Genesis, my family and Chad. I think I might even be happy. But you know, happy endings aren’t for everyone least of all me.


Excerpt from Book One - INITIATION 

“My mother used to call this apple cider weather.”

I had been doing my best to pretend I was unaffected by Jason’s presence, but I wasn’t. He felt warm, even the distance we walked apart, like he was a hot presence in a world of freezing cold eventualities.

“I know what apples are. We get them sometimes. What is apple cider? Some kind of drink?”

“Breaks my heart that you live in a world with no apple cider.” The grimace on his face was a huge indication then he meant what he said. He really was…beautiful, in a way most guys, or even grown men, were not.

Jason seemed to light up from the inside out. Maybe it came from actually being outside all the time but his skin glowed with freshness. Or maybe it was a Werewolf thing, a monster thing.

“Do you do this all the time? Take on Warriors and not tell them why you’re holding them prisoner?”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smile before falling straight again. “Do you feel like a prisoner?”

“Do you answer every question with a question?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I did promise you answers. But first, tell me if you feel better out here? Less likely to hurl away all that fine turkey?”

I stopped walking and turned to look at him. “I feel much better, thank you.” I got my first look at the house we had just exited. I covered my mouth with my hand to suppress my gasp and I looked again. It wasn’t really a house—it was a giant tent—standing in front of a dozen giant tents just like it. I could see from where I stood how it was built. The walls were solid, but only because large beams in the ground held them up. I hadn’t thought to feel the walls earlier. Why would I? They had looked like concrete, but they weren’t, they were actually cloth and something else—vinyl, maybe?

“You guys are prepared to leave at any time, aren’t you?”

“We’re nomadic. We never stay anywhere very long.”

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard sadness in his voice. I could ask him about it. He’d put his emotion right out there for me to hear it, which begged the question: just how well did I want to know Jason?

At some point, I was going to turn a corner with this Werewolf where I was going to start thinking of him as a living, breathing, cognizant being whose head I wouldn’t be able to cut off. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that.

And yet…

“Would you rather stay put?” I spoke the words.

"Maybe. See, I can still remember what it was like, to have a house that was a home, to have neighbors, to go to school."

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

THE PRINCESS by Laura Tolomei

THE PRINCESS by Laura Tolomei

Virtus Saga 7

The book that reconnects it all—love, sex, lust, but also the princess to her power. Don’t miss the seventh chapter of the Virtus Saga.

Alone. The future of his world on his shoulders, Prince Duncan Caldwell has to connect the dots. To pick up the pieces of broken love. Before the new edition of the Game. Before the terrible loss awaiting him at Black Rose. But not alone. Not without his angel. Certainly not without his princess. For only her power will save him.



“So how is this going to help us?” Suddenly attentive, Chris shifted. “They already know we fuck like crazy.” His new position had drawn the prince closer than before, if at all possible. “And that stunt you pulled in the attic leaves no one any doubts we belong to one another—”

“This isn’t going to be about us.”

“Then…” As the dots connected in the angel’s head, Duncan saw his eyes brightening all of a sudden. “It’s going to be about her.”

“Exactly.” Too late he realized his crotch was digging in Chris’s belly. “We’ve been so bent on showing everybody what we feel about one another. We totally neglected to put her in the picture.” And it was driving him crazy, especially since his angel’s cock was as stiff as his. “So it’s time to set the record straight. Yours most of all, since you always play like you care nothing for her.”

Friday, October 3, 2014



Jenson has loved Mike his whole life, but he has never known how to tell Mike how he feels.

After high school Mike leaves for college and his Hollywood dream, while cowboy Jenson stays behind in their small East Texas hometown. Neither man knows what to say to go beyond friendship, even though they come together through all of the best and worst times of their lives.

The most amazing moments keep bringing them back together, but through huge love and terrible loss, sickness and health, their timing never seems right to take their relationship to the next level.

When the universe gives them one final chance, Jenson must overcome his fear and say the most important something before it's too late.



Chapter One

THE LAST weekend before school started was always a bitch of a letdown. This year was no damned exception, even if Jenson Thackerson didn’t have to go back. He’d graduated in May, maybe not with honors or nothin’, but with enough to get him a decent job, if his mom and dad decided to kick his ass off the little ranch they owned.

No, the letdown came from all of them taking Sandy Kinder’s big van down to Corpus and tearing it up for a long weekend. There, he could pretend that nothing was gonna change, that Mike Simon wasn’t going to leave in three days and go off to North Carolina to go to acting school.

“UNC has an acting school?” he’d asked when Mike had gotten the letter.

Mike had snorted, his blond hair all wild as he set to pulling out this big-assed book from the school library, and there it was. UNC. North Fucking Carolina. That was a twenty-four hour drive away from Podunk, Texas. Twenty-four hours and forever, might as well be.

Jenson wasn’t doing no more school if he could help it. Oh, if he got his ass kicked out and couldn’t get a job cowboying, he had the grades for trade school. He was okay with cars, decent with putting in a new light switch. He’d go for mechanic or electrician.

Mike had called about an hour ago, asked him to meet out at the cemetery after dark and bring some smokes, and he did it. Of course he did it. Daddy was already swimming in the bottle, and Momma was in her room with the dog-eared book she’d stolen from the library and her Marlboros, dreaming of a life that didn’t involve cow shit and washing stains out of boys’ underpants.

He parked his old Chevy out on the maintenance road and watched the last rays of the sun go down. He pulled out the pack of smokes and tapped the end against his palm a few times before pulling off the plastic. He’d have one while he waited.

The humidity made everything lazy, even the mosquitos, and he couldn’t help but think that tomorrow he was going to be out here, just another redneck driving down gravel roads acting like that was something special, and Mike would be in his perfectly clean little Toyota with his boxes and his books, heading to the East Coast.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Oh, not that Jenson wanted to go back East anywhere. What he wanted was Mike. The trip to the beach had given them some stolen kisses and a few quick gropes, but Jenson wanted more.

He wanted full-on naked. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to hear Mike beg for it. He knew Mike would.

The very thought made his dick hard in his jeans and made him curse when his cigarette burned his fingers.

He heard a husky chuckle. “You ever going to learn how to smoke, man?”

Jenson turned to see Mike wandering over, coming to sit next to him on the tailgate. On the wrong damned side.

“Scoot, man,” Mike said, and he did, because he was always willing to do for Mike.

“What’s up, Mike?”

“Been a long couple days. You?”

“Been trying to decide if I have to apply for jobs.” He sighed. “You all packed?”

“I am. Yeah. I wish you were coming. It looks like a kick-ass campus.” Mike took a smoke, lit it, and the flame shuddered in the wind.

“I ain’t smart like you.” What else could he say?

“I’m not all that. I just….” Mike shrugged. What was Mike going to say? That Mike had tried? Because that was the God’s honest truth. Mike fought for it, worked hard.

Jenson did too. It just didn’t matter. He wasn’t school material. He lit another cigarette, trying not to cough. Lord.

“You think you’ll stay at home?”

Like it mattered. Neither one of them could afford long-distance phone calls, and Jenson, well, shit, he wasn’t much of a letter writer. Maybe postcards, if he remembered to buy stamps.

Jenson nodded. “If they’ll let me. If not, I’ll try cowboying out with the C Bar.” Mr. Carlson ran a huge Beefmaster operation.

“Such a cowboy.” Not like Mike. He was gonna be something bigger than a shiftless drover.

“I don’t know what else to do. Be a drunk like my dad, I guess.” He laughed, trying not to sound so damned bitter.

“I vote for cowboy over drunk, I think. Drunks are a little creepy. My mom knows lots.” Mike’s momma was a bartender over at the Rail. She scared him a little, being so hard and fierce, always broke and always fighting. She loved Mike, though, more than life.

“So does mine.” He gave up on the smoke, grinding it out on the old toolbox at the foot of the truck bed. “I wish you didn’t have to go, man.”

“I know, but I can’t stay here. It’s over for me here.”

“Why?” He was about to get his begging on. “Stay, Mike. Please. Just stay.”

“I can’t, Jen. They’re going to kill me.”

“What? Who? What the hell are you talking about, man?” He turned to look at Mike, finally, and reached out for his best friend.

Mike was staring away from him, out over the gravestones.

“Mike? What are you talking about?” Who would hurt any of them? They were just kids.

Mike turned to face him, and Jenson gasped, jerking back in pure surprise. A huge set of stitches stretched from eyebrow to chin, the skin raw and sliced to hell. Mike’s eye had this metal thing over it, and for a second it looked like his best friend was a robot. One of them kind that went berserk in the movies and shot sparks.

“Jesus. What happened?” He didn’t know what to do. His hands fluttered with the need to touch.

“Got jumped out at the fairgrounds. Said they wanted to make sure they never saw my fag face on the big screen.”

His mouth fell open. “Oh fuck. Oh God, Mikey.” He hadn’t called Mike that since grade school.

“I can’t stay here. Everyone knows about me. Everyone. I’m not like you, you know?”

What did that even mean? “Mike. I’m like you, and you know it.”

“I do, but no one else does. You got Allie at the dances. You can pass. Me? No one ever looks at me and thinks ladies’ man.” Mike touched his face, winced. “Now for sure I can’t be the romantic lead.”

“I’m sorry.” Had he done something? Had someone told about them kissing at the beach? Christ. “Mike….”

“Yeah.” Mike reached out, touched his hand.

He grabbed on, not daring to move any closer or do nothin’ else. He might hurt Mike if he tried anything else. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch somehow. I know it’s corny and all, but please.”

“I swear to God. I’d take you with me, if I knew how. I would, but….”

But he was still safe here, and Mike… Mike would always be queer, always be running. And what was a guy like him, like Jenson, going to do at a fancy college back East?

“That ain’t gonna happen. You need to be safe.”

“It isn’t. Once I figure it out, though, I’ll bring you. Show you everything.”

“I’d like that.” Hell, he’d even get an extra part-time gig and save his pennies, if he could go see Mike at school.

“It’s a promise.” Mike squeezed his fingers. “Can we sit here until morning, together? I’m heading out at 8:00 a.m., and I’ve never… you know. It’s a long way by myself.”

“We can.” He wanted more than just sitting, but he knew Mike needed strength and quiet, not grappling and groping and possibly getting caught doing crazy shit. He held Mike’s hand and waited for the sun to come, knowing he was losing something incredibly important, but not knowing how to keep it. Or even say it.

“It’s supposed to be amazing, man, growing up, right?”

“It’s a gyp.” He was convinced of that. Totally overrated.

“Yeah? Then when’s the good part?”

“I don’t know.” Jenson took a deep breath and squeezed Mike’s hand. He needed to cowboy up and be positive. Mike needed his good thoughts. “Maybe after you get out of college?”

“Maybe. I’m so fucking scared, man. These guys in the program are trained, good. They’ve done more than playing Li’l Abner in Mrs. Fincher’s yearly musical. And now there’s this.” He waved at his face. “I’m going to be a freak.”

“Is…?” Jenson swallowed hard. “Your eye, I mean. Is it…?”

“It’s got a scratch, that’s all. The cup deal is to keep the blood out of it.”

“Keep you from itching it too, huh?” Jenson chuckled, the sound dry as a bone. “You’ll be dashing.”

“I’ll be the scary serial killer, maybe. Mom says if I’m lucky, it’ll only be a thin scar.”

“Just take care of it.” He rubbed his thumb over Mike’s knuckles.

“Yeah…. I’ve never not lived in the same town as you before.”

“I’ll miss you.” Now they were just getting sappy. Jenson looped his fingers around Mike’s wrist, turning back to the sky.

At some point Jenson fell asleep, leaning on the wheel well of his truck, and when he woke up, Mike was gone, the sun was up, and it was over.

They’d said they’d call and shit; Mike had said they’d visit somehow. Jenson wasn’t sure how it was possible, let alone probable. He felt more alone than he had in more than ten years, since him and Mikey had become inseparable.

He couldn’t imagine how Mike felt. Jenson couldn’t even try to know.

All Jenson could try was to go to the ranch and get to work.


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