Sunday, June 29, 2014

DARCY by Michelle Levigne

DARCY by Michelle Levigne 

Quarry Hall Book Four

Black Ops doesn’t begin to describe Vincent’s former paramilitary team.

When a friend of the Arc Foundation requests help for a rescue mission facing scandal, he learns two former teammates are involved. Vincent must investigate for the sake of his conscience, but can his instincts be trusted? Who has reformed, and who still waits to destroy those who betrayed him years ago, when their team disintegrated?

Joan comes along, to provide balance and a second pair of eyes. Josh is in charge of renovations. Karl is the fundraiser. Darcy, Josh’s daughter, is an idealistic young woman ready to give her life for what she believes. As Vincent and Joan track down the enemies of the mission, they uncover lies and an insidious scheme, with Darcy as pawn and prize.



"Coals," Josh murmured. "A new gang," he flung over his shoulder as he broke into a run. Vincent followed. They were only half a block away from Darcy, but right that moment it seemed like miles.

Knives flashed. The three Coals blocked Vincent's view of Darcy. The sidewalk cleared and the traffic on the cluttered street seemed to come to a standstill. A little old lady shrieked. It sounded more like injured pride than pain to Vincent's ears. Then he heard dull thuds and sharp smacking sounds; flesh against flesh.

"Darcy!" Josh shouted as he flung himself onto the back of the nearest Coal. The two went down in a heap.

A second gang member turned, swinging his knife at Vincent. From this close, it looked more like a short sword than a knife. Vincent ducked and turned, kicking high. His foot hit the target, bones snapped, and the Coal went down, shouting in pain, holding his hand. The knife went flying. Vincent turned, looking for the third -- Josh had his opponent well in hand, kneeling on his back and twisting an arm behind him.

The leader of the trio faced Darcy. He had her backed into a doorway, surrounded by barrels and crates of trash, with the Plinkney sisters cowering behind her. Darcy held a four-foot length of rusty, one-inch pipe in a two-handed grip, crouching low, eyes narrowed as she studied her opponent. Her sweatshirt sleeve gaped where it had been sliced and blood soaked into the material, radiating out in a spreading stain, turning the green cloth purple. Darcy seemed not to notice the wound.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014



Rawhide Series

When the death of their fathers brings Zoe Hampton and Wade Cameron back to Big Spur, she hopes for two things—to show the hot shot New York lawyer she’s not a little girl anymore and that the ranch he hates could actually ease the pain of his past. She’s got her work cut out for her on both accounts, and she doesn’t know whether to kick Wade into next week or jump his bones.

Wade hates the ranch almost as much as he hated his father, and the only reason he’s home is to bury one and sell the other. But the old man’s will puts a hitch in Wade’s plans. And Zoe’s lush body and sassy attitude spur the Dom in him to take her over his knee for a spanking they’ll both enjoy. Even finding release at a private BDSM club becomes impossible.…until the night Zoe follows Wade to Rawhide.



“Will tells me we’ve got a good crop of calves to brand this year.”

Wade’s voice behind her startled her out of her reverie, and she lost her balance, tumbling into the pen. Before she could get to her feet, he had climbed in beside her and stood looking down at her.

She spit dust from her mouth and glowered at him. “Aren’t you even going to offer to help me up? Or did you just come out here to rub my face in the fate of the ranch again? Make up your mind, Wade. I’m too old to play games and tired of sparring with you.”

“Maybe not my kind of games,” he growled.

He stared down at her then stunned her by lowering his body over hers, his legs bracketing her hips as he knelt in the dirt. His long fingers wrapped around her wrists, holding them down to either side of her head, imprisoning her. His grip was so tight as to be painful, and it shocked her that his aggression gave her pleasure.

Wade bent low over her until his face was only inches away. His eyes darkened to the color of burnt chocolate again, and a muscle ticked in his cheek. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to think. That kiss yesterday might have been meant to frighten her, just as he was trying to do now, but it was very clear he was affected, too. Probably more than he wanted to acknowledge.

Instead of struggling, Zoe lay on the ground beneath him, waiting to see what he’d do next.

“You know what I’d like to do to you, little girl?” he ground out.

“What?” The word came out in a breathy rush of air. “What would you like to do to me, Wade?”

“Things that would scare the shit out of you.”

He was holding her forcibly in place, apparently unaware she wasn’t attempting to get up. He was holding most of his weight on his knees so he didn’t crush her, but she was essentially completely helpless. His crotch was practically at eye level, and there was no mistaking the prominent bulge. Oh, yeah. He was as hard as she was instantly wet.

“You think so?” She licked her lower lip, seeing the heat flare in his eyes again and knowing she was pulling the tiger’s tail. “You might be surprised.”

He stared at her for so long she wondered if he ever planned to speak or move. Without warning, he rose to his feet, pulling her with him. Imprisoning her wrists with one hand, he swept her over his shoulder and stomped into the barn. He carried her into the tack room and slammed the door shut, sliding the bolt into place to keep it locked.

“Big talker,” he ground out. “Let’s see where that big talk gets you.”

Friday, June 13, 2014

THE 13th GUEST by Rebecca Royce

THE 13TH GUEST by Rebecca Royce

The Wiccan Haus Series

She snuck aboard his ferry, and if he can save her life, she'll repair the hole in his heart.

Dr. Amelia Everett is a respectable psychologist from New York City. She wants only to find out how so many of her patients are getting healed emotionally from their stay the Wiccan Haus. The only problem? Every time she tries to schedule a visit, she is denied entry. What other choice does she have except to sneak on the boat?

Damek Antonov is a ferry boat captain with a broken heart. He spends his days shuttling passengers to and from the island but whatever magic his charges find there, he has not seen any himself. But, when Amelia is made Damek's responsibility, the two will find that taking risks might lead to the great adventure ever: love.


They stepped together, him by choice, her because he had her in a death grip, onto the deck. In the light, she could now see the features of the person who’d caught her. He had high cheekbones that accentuated large dark brown eyes. His hair, also dark brown, had been cut very short on his head. His chin pointed out a bit over thick, full lips covering perfectly straight teeth, visible as he bit down on his lip, checking her out too, she imagined.

But it was his nose that really gave his face character.Too large to really be called traditionally attractive, it worked to give him a striking, unforgettable appearance.Staring at the world from above that nose, from his vantage point of being so much taller than nearly everyone else, completed an outer form that she knew she would never forget even if she should not set eyes on him again.

“Who are you?”The low baritone voice again.

She smiled, trying to seem nice, the sort of woman he didn’t want to throw into the ocean.“My name is Dr. Amelia Everett. If you let go of my arm, I’d be happy to show you my card.”

“No, missy. I don’t have the slightest interest in seeing your card.What are you doing here on this ship? You were not invited.”

Invited?What a strange choice of words. “Right, well. I’ve been trying to get a reservation at the Wiccan Haus now for six months.As they are never willing to let me book a room or to even discuss me the possibility of coming to the island, I had to take matters into my own hands.One way or another, I am going to the Wiccan Haus today.”

Thursday, June 12, 2014

RIDE THE MUSTANG by Desiree Holt

RIDE THE MUSTANG by Desiree Holt

SEALs Going Hot Book One

Fletcher "Mustang" Call is a dedicated SEAL and a committed Dom. The one thing he isn't is relationship material. A tragedy in his past killed his desire for more than a good time on leave and a little D/s play. Until April Coe walked into his life, a woman unlike any he’s known. Problem is, she’s as vanilla as they come.

April was warned about Mustang, a man as wild and free as his call sign, so she doesn’t expect him to stick around for long. That’s okay, she'll enjoy the great sex while she can. At least, she thought it was great. 

When she senses her sexy bronco is holding back, she has to decide whether to ride the mustang a little harder or set him free.



She had a plan already in her head. Once they were in bed, naked, she’d go to work on him with her mouth and her hands the way he loved. Then, when she had him hanging on the edge, she’d pry it out of him. Because she really wanted answers.

She could hardly concentrate while she put away the leftovers and loaded the plates and silverware in the dishwasher. She had taken great care showering and dressing for tonight. And naughtily left off any panties. When she bent over the dishwasher, the skirt rode up and she knew he could see her bare flesh.

“Jesus, April.” His breath hissed through his teeth. “Are you deliberately trying to drive me nuts?”

She turned and gave him what she hoped was a sexy smile. “Maybe.”

He rose from his chair, all six foot four of him. She looked at him over her shoulder and saw heat burning unmistakably in his slate grey eyes. The muscles in his rough-jawed face were tight with hunger. One large hand cupped her chin, tilting it up so he could brush his mouth over hers. “I’ve only satisfied one kind of hunger so far tonight. I need to feed the other.”

“Someone’s in a hurry tonight,” she teased, but she was glad. It made her plan that much easier to put into play.

“Someone can hardly ever keep his hands off you,” he whispered, nipping the place where her neck and shoulder joined. His hand reached beneath her top and lifted it over her head, tossing it to the counter.

“No bra, either.” His voice was tight with control. “Naughty girl.”

“I like being naughty,” she told him. Maybe that would give him a hint.

His tongue danced over the upper swell of her breasts, pausing to trace a line in the valley between them. When he pulled a nipple into his mouth, she felt the tug all the way to her cunt and had to clutch his upper arms to steady herself.

“What do you say we take this out of the kitchen?” he murmured in her ear, his voice husky.


She started to push away from him, but he swept her up in his arms and strode with determined steps to her bedroom.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014



House of the Cat Series

A shapeshifter and a wizard slugging it out, an alien world and a hell-horse...

Jockey Camryn O’Sullivan is an alcoholic on a downward spiral after the death of her husband. When aliens kidnap her, she’s both terrified and reluctantly fascinated by Ryman Coppersmith. She’s positive the weird attraction to her abductor is an anomaly. Something to ignore. She’ll train the aliens’ horse and they’ll return her home. Simple. There’s no need for sex or a stubborn male kitty-cat to replace the precious memories of her husband.

Murder. Betrayal. Banishment.

Feline shapeshifter Ry has experienced treachery of the worst kind. When his foster brother—the man who betrayed him—proposes a wager on a hell-horse race, the lure to clear his name is irresistible.

Camryn’s arrival triggers a jump in his already overactive sex drive. It’s a struggle to keep his hands off his beautiful captive. Something in his mysterious feline background compels him to chase her and the passion firing between them soars out of control. Ry doesn’t understand the mechanics of their attraction but knows he can’t afford to lose Camryn…despite his promise to return her home.



“This plan will work.” Yep pulled on his jacket and fastened it securely against the cold. “I feel it in ma bones.”

Kaya smirked at her crewmate, her chin-length blue hair swinging against high cheekbones. She tugged Yep’s ponytail. “Your bones are sometimes wrong. My research is, however, correct.”

Ryman Coppersmith, captain of the Indefatigable, ignored them both. He’d already made his decision. He intended to win the hell-horse race on Ornum or at least beat his brother Talor and win their private bet. By the time the race ended, Ry hoped he’d be on the way to clearing his name of murder charges. Talor knew the identity of the murderer, but for some reason had never spoken out, preferring to see Ry exiled instead. Ry scowled. He wanted to go home. He wanted to stride through the streets without fear of capture. He wanted to embrace his sisters and visit his mother’s grave.

It was time.

After research on Kaya’s part, they’d found the stud farm easily enough. They landed the tender in an empty paddock and emerged to the bite of an icy-cool wind and full darkness.

Ry sniffed the air before striding in the direction of the stud farm. Trees. Grass. Mud. Animals. Every breath he took contained a new scent. The needs of the cat jumped to the fore and a low rumble eased from him.

“Go ahead,” he muttered to his crew. “I will shift.”

He knew he sounded curt, but the urgent need to run thrummed through him, even greater than his desire for a woman, and that was bad enough. Blood surged to his cock, the sharp sensation painful and frustrating. No available woman and he refused to fukk any of his crew.

Kaya and Yep melted into the darkness while Mogens, who attracted attention because of his changeable skin color, stayed with the tender. Nanu and Jannike presently orbited Earth in the Indefatigable, hopefully remaining undetected.

After a deep inhalation, Ry ripped off his jacket and shirt and let the feline claim him. Trews and boots melted into his body, replaced by black fur. His bones lengthened and shifted, tendons and muscles reforming to the cat. His color vision faded, his surroundings turning to shades of black and white. Ry dropped to all fours and padded across the moist grass, long tail swishing.

As always, a sense of aggravation followed him. Ry knew nothing of his feline background, had never met another of his species. In one pain-filled evening, when he’d thought he might die, he’d turned into a black feline without warning. He’d yowled his panic so loud his shipmates had come running. Ry grinned at the memory. He’d scared them half to death. Although funny now, his unexpected shift into a powerful black cat had been bloody terrifying.

For all of them.

With help from Mogens, the man who’d become their seer and part of the crew, Ry had finally transformed back, bearing a new cat tattoo on his biceps as a souvenir and his shirt in tatters. Weirdly, his trews had survived the transformation. Talk about a learning experience. And he was still learning the foibles of his species. The not knowing scared him. It made him wonder if there had been something else inside the bag they’d found with him as a baby. As a child he’d asked, but his foster father had told him the bag contained clothes.

The low voices and footsteps of his crew were clearly audible. Ry twitched his nose and prowled after them, annoyed with their casual approach. A sharp feline bark reminded them to reduce the noise. Ry broke into a lope, savoring the play of muscles long confined in humanoid form. The wind ruffled his fur while mud splashed his legs and belly.

When he neared the center of the farm where the owners lived, white post and rail fences carved the land into paddocks. Ry leaped over the nearest, his heart pumping with the physical exertion. An animal snorted, springing into action and galloping from the spot where Ry had frozen in place.

A horse. The Earth counterpart of a hell-horse.

Ry crept along the fence line not wanting to alarm more animals or attract attention. Once clear, he sped up, muscles moving powerfully, every sense alert. Ry caught the rustle of a small creature in a hedgerow, the tentative neighs of two horses at the far end of a paddock. The chill wind continued to ruffle his fur, the heavy moisture in the air indicating impending rain. Great. Ry hated to get wet. His pace increased to a gallop as he followed the track running between the paddocks.

Ahead, light bled from behind screened windows. According to the information Yep and Kaya had uncovered, the trainer lived with his wife and child. Ry regretted any anguish the trainer’s departure would cause and had penned a note, explaining the situation to his family. Hopefully the Earthlings could decipher the universal language. Ry slipped into the shadows and stalked closer, every sense alert for danger.

A cough over to his left grabbed his attention. Ry stilled, whiskers twitching. The sharp tang of sweat and unwashed body caught the back of his throat. The cough sounded again. A figure staggered from a dim-lit porch and wove to the rails of the nearest paddock. Ry’s tension eased. The trainer. He recognized the coat the man wore since it appeared in the photo Yep and Kaya had found during their research on the flight to Earth. A lucky break.

Ry padded closer, placing himself near enough to watch without giving away his presence. He needed to wait for the crew to move into position for the snatch to go smoothly. The man appeared short, about Kaya’s height, but solid. His reek said he didn’t care much for personal hygiene. His stench didn’t bother the horses. Two plodded over to him and one nuzzled his shoulder. The man smoothed his hand over the glossy neck. The other horse nickered. The man stroked it and the creatures moved away. Soft footsteps dragged his attention from the man.

Yep indicated the man with a jerk of his head. “He waits for us to extract him and take him on the adventure of his life.”

Ry stared, unable to see much despite his superior eyesight. The man wore a cover over his head, obscuring his features from sight. Ry’s nose twitched at the objectionable odor coming from the man, the air thick with liquor fumes.

Yep seemed to sense Ry’s doubts and sought to reassure. “The man’s a champion trainer,” he whispered. “Nanu and I attended the races two cycles ago. This man trained five of the twelve winners. Several place getters. Man’s natural with the four-legged creatures. Hell-horses should respond to him in the way same.”

And if they didn’t? Fukk, he hated this planet.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

HOLD ON by LaVerne Thompson

HOLD ON by LaVerne Thompson 

One phone call changed both their lives.

A real life knight in shining armor--except he isn't in armor, he's in a suit. But the first time Lena Douglas lays eyes on Stephan Grayson that's what he seems to her. He saves her from a violence that still haunts her nights, but at least he's there to hold her should she wake.

But the nightmare's not over; it stalks them both now. A mistake from her past that will not let go. But then, neither will Stephan.

Stephan’s saved her once and he's not about to let anyone, especially Lena, stand in the way of what is happening between them. But will he always be there to shield her from the danger she thought she left behind?


“911 Operator.”

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

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

“No, no it’s not me and I don’t know them. I’m in my car. Hang on, the light’s changing. I’m going to make a U-turn and park on the street so I can keep watch.”

He ignored the car honking at him because he cut in front of it. The building before him and the woman in trouble his only focus. The sun had been down for awhile now, but the open lighted walkway in the three-story building allowed Stephan a pretty clear view.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even with puffy eyes, tear tracks on her face, and a bruise on her toasted almond-colored cheek her beauty still shone through. Stephan’s heart, which had been racing before, stopped in mid-beat.

Friday, June 6, 2014

DARK MIST by LaVerne Thompson and Tenaj

DARK MIST by LaVerne Thompson and Tenaj

The Hidden Series

Can he possess the unattainable?

For over a thousand years, Deacon has led his vampire brethren to live in peace amongst humans. But that was before he entered the dreams of the beautiful Rose, hungering desperately for that which he could not claim because the very laws he had set forbade it. Laws that meant certain death for the Hydden should they be broken...laws that Deacon himself might just shatter for one human. But he hungered for her blood and someone knew it.

Could he take what he desired most while still protecting himself from those who sought to destroy him? Or will Rose mourn the promise of an eternal forever if Deacon brings about his own demise?



When Rose exited the airport, lightning flashed, illuminating the night sky. For a moment, everything froze, then the world turned dark again. Even though she wore a coat, she shivered and when thunder crackled overhead, goose bumps rose along her arms. This kind of weather always spooked her, but this new job in Memphis should have her crowing in triumph, and she did feel that way, until a moment ago.

She shook her head as she stood in line for a cab. Just nerves acting up, she hadn’t been sleeping lately, but she’d been excited about this move. Rose felt sorry now she didn’t let Krystal come and pick her up at the airport. It’d been late and raining and Krystal Harrington worked as an ER doctor with long hard hours. She needed her rest. Rose's plane already delayed due to weather. Still, it would have been nice to see a friendly face. They’d been best friends and roomies since college, even after college, they’d remained close. They even took vacations together, and planned a cruise next year. Now, since Rose had been transferred to the office in Memphis, she would stay with Krystal until she found a place. Rose hadn’t seen her best friend for a few months but she grew excited about them being able to spend time together again.

Rose got into the taxi and gave the driver her destination. Sitting back, she stared outside at the passing darkened landscape. This city would be her new home. Who would’ve thought a girl from a big city like Brooklyn would end up in Memphis of all places? But the company she worked for wanted her at their home office. She would’ve been a fool to turn down the promotion of Executive Business Acquisitions Director for Hydden Enterprises, or HE, as those who worked there liked to call the place. She’d worked her butt off for the company and to get a promotion.

Others told Rose, at twenty-seven, she would be the youngest person in such a high position within the company. She reported directly to the President of HE and would have a staff of four under her supervision. Not too bad for someone who didn’t know who her father was, and whose mother died when she was ten, leaving her alone to grow up in the foster care system. It could’ve been worse she supposed…She’d gotten lucky.

The Robinsons, the family who raised her were good people. She’d been their only foster, but they’d housed exchange college students in the US for a limited time, so Rose never felt lonely, and they’d been heavily involved in the local non-denominational mega-church. Through the church, she’d netted a full-scholarship to college. Even though, she didn’t embrace any one religious doctrine, she did believe something greater existed out there, which no one could control. Then, even at times, it directed humanity onto certain paths.

Still, it is up to each individual to decide which road to take or not.
In her case, an opportunity presented itself and she didn’t hesitate to take it. After graduation, she’d gotten a job at Hydden and thus far, it turned out to be the right decision. Though, she missed her foster parents and didn’t enjoy moving so far away from them. Even if she hadn’t lived with them, since she’d started college, they’d been the first to encourage her to explore this opportunity.

She’d proven herself to the company by working hard and getting an MBA while working full-time and she had her foster parents to thank for her strong work ethic. As a result, Hydden rewarded her with some of the corporate secrets. Like Hydden was really operated and owned by one of the largest churches in Memphis. The locale of the real head office would be where she would actually work. Yesterday, she’d been happy and excited about this step forward in her career. Now, when the cab pulled up in front of Krystal’s house and the door opened, she found herself hesitating to step out of the car…and with no idea why.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

WOLF RUN by BA Tortuga

WOLF RUN by B.A. Tortuga

Mick is a lone wolf in all ways. He’s left his pack, he’s left his homelands and he’s on the road, footloose and fancy free.

Well, at least until he wanders up to a fence and finds a little wolf running his ass off behind it. Mick stops to let the pup out and is stunned to hear the young wolf, Scotty, tell him “no”.

Scotty's mate and best friend, Danny, asked Scotty to stay behind the fence, so he will be safe while Danny fights to support them both. All this leaves Mick’s fur standing on end.

Maybe, Mick doesn’t need one mate to bring him home. Maybe, he needs two.



He dropped his wolf form as soon as he was out of sight, his body lengthening into a biped. “Dude, why are you in a cage?”

The pup yelped and scrambled back, leaping onto the porch.

“Hey, I’m not here to hurt you. I can open the gate.”

The pup looked at him then boom, a lovely lean man stood there, shaggy blond hair curling around his face. “H-hey.”

“Hi. Would you like to run? I can get you out.” God, the kid was adorable and plenty old enough to play.

“Oh. Oh, no. Daniel would be so mad at me for getting out again.” Eyes the color of brandy caught the sun. “Daniel says I’ll get hurt, lost.”

“Does Daniel mistreat you?” Because Mick could beat someone down just for fun.

“Daniel? My Daniel?” The pup’s laugh was happy, joyous, the look on his face fond and warm. “Oh, no. Daniel loves me. He works for both of us. He brings me half his food every day. He’s a good mate. We… The Alpha said ‘too many males’, and we… Daniel pays for this home, he brushes me, he works all day every day.”

“Do you work?” Mick tilted his head, waiting, nodding in sympathy. Damn, it was hard for bachelor males to manage when thrust out on their own, especially ones who needed an alpha as much as this one did. It seemed like the kid barely held it together, at least on two legs. Sweet baby.

“I paint. I paint pictures, and I wash Daniel’s uniforms. I… I get… He follows rules better than me, and he can stop a shift, if he needs to. He can even work during the moon.”

Mick smiled, liking this kid a lot. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Scott. Scott Miller. What’s yours?”

Scott. It worked.

“I’m Mick Eagleheart. I like your belly. I kinda want to lick it.”

“Oh.” Scott jerked, and his cock started to fill, curving up toward the flat belly. “Oh, my.”

“Mmm. That’s nice, too.” Mick’s cock was happy to wave hello, as well, standing hard and proud.

“I probably should go inside.” That sweet nose was working hard, smelling him.

He caught the scent of Scott’s need, too. “I won’t bother you if you don’t want me to. I promise. I just hate to see you caged.”

“I want… I want you to come inside, but… I should ask Daniel.” Scott moved down the stairs, heading toward him.

“You should, huh?” When Scott got close, Mick saw the shadows under the man’s ribs. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh-huh. All the time. He brings me the biggest half of his hamburger and almost all the fries, every day.”

Mick raised a brow. “You eat one meal a day?” That would never do. Never.

“Every night. He brings me food every night.” Scott was close enough to touch now.

Mick reached out, gently, slowly, not wanting to startle the pup. Pure electricity shot up his arm, and Scott’s eyes flew open wide, a happy bark sounding.

“Do you want to hunt with me? I promise to bring you back.”

“Will I get in trouble?” Scott nodded, eagerly, the motion at odds with his worried words.

“No, I swear.” The high mountain desert teemed with birds, rabbits and chipmunks. It would take twenty minutes to get something yummy.

“Okay. Okay, yes, but please, don’t let me get lost. He gets so worried.”

“I have an amazing sense of direction.” And he could tell Scott really cared for this Daniel. Mick would never want to come between mates.

“Cool.” Scott climbed over the fence and into Mick’s arms.

“Hello, there.” What a pretty puppy this one was. So starved for a strong hand. Daniel must be another pup, not a big male. He leaned in and sniffed, the hint of another sweet beta like perfume.

Lovely. He’d have to check in with Daniel, as well. Later. Impulsively, he hugged Scott tight. “Let’s run.”

It took seconds before the pup was fuzzy beside him, excited and happy. Perfect. Mick barked, his wolf coming easily, and he led the way off into coyote country. Scott ran beside him, vocal and chatty, telling him about everything wonderful in the world. Mick liked it, the little noises. Oh, it would make it harder to find prey, but that was all right. How often did you get to experience that type of pure, unadulterated joy?

This kid was too cooped up, and Mick would bet the absent Daniel was, too. So many wolves forgot how to live close to nature.

Scott bounded up to him, licked his muzzle then bounced away. They would have to play, he could tell. He raced to Scott, nipping that fine tail. Scott spun, sand flying everywhere, and the pup barked furiously.

Letting his tongue loll, Mick backed off, tail up, head down.

Scott stopped, stared then plopped his front end down, bowing back. Good boy. Such good instincts.

Mick chuffed softly, praising, admiring, and that tail wagged so hard the pup nearly fell over. Sweet baby boy. A rabbit darted by, and they were off.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

KEYS TO HEAVEN by Shyla Colt

KEYS TO HEAVEN by Shyla Colt

The Purgatory Series

Born to a fallen angel and a demon, Heavenleigh Spirit has never truly fit in. Shunned, tested, and ridiculed, she’s hardened her heart, building a wall around her none are allowed to scale. Carving a life for herself running the neutral bar, Purgatory, she caters to all things winged , clawed, and other. Provided they play nice. When she breaks her middle of the road stance to rescue a newly fallen angel she gets more than she bargained for.

The amnesic angel awakes in the bed of the only woman he’s ever lusted after with nothing more than the knowledge he was sent to protect her. Struggling to remember who he is, and why she’s in danger, he fully embraces the passion between them that blazes hotter than hell fire. When the truth about his mission comes out he must fight to convince her the love they share is real, and he’s not going anywhere.

In an ironic twist of fate the woman cast aside for a birthright she never asked for holds the keys to the worlds ruin or salvation.



She was almost home when a brilliant flash of life lit up the sky. To anyone else it looked like a falling star, or meteor, but she knew better. The high pitched vibrations coming off the light in waves screamed grace. An angel was falling to earth. She should go home and mind her own business. The short lived battled ended when she veered to the left. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, she had to see it for myself! When she reached the ‘crash’ site smoke billowed from a wooded area. Parking, she leapt down from the jeep, and jogged into the forest, mindful of roots and fallen logs. She neared a giant crater in the center of a glen.

Dark shadows began to slither up from the bottom of the trees. The angel would be disoriented and weak. It wouldn’t stand a chance against an attack of this magnitude, especially with its powers depleted. She had an unspoken rule, she pretended she didn’t see the demons and they did the same to her. She couldn’t stand here and watch them massacre this poor soul. Imagine if this had been her mother all those years earlier. Resigned to the stupid act she was about to commit she dug deep down into her soul, tapping into the part of her she liked to leave alone.

Flames licked at her skin as she walked over to stand in front of the sunken earth. Her eyes burned and she knew they’d bleed, When she was at peak power they glowed. Holding up her hands she admired the flickering, orange fire before she spoke.

“It is under my protection.”

“Since when do you care mid-worlders?” one hissed. There were four to her one, all lesser lever bottom suckers. She could take them with her hellfire, but it’d cost her. Usage of her demon powers always did.

“Does it really matter?” The flames that surrounded her hands grew, lighting up the area like a bonfire. “Who wants to try me first?”

Whispering rose among them. Time to put on a show. She formed a ring of fire around her and the fallen angel she’d yet to check on.

“Cross it if you dare.”

“You win for now Spirit.” They slinked back into the night, blending seamlessly and she disconnected from her demon side. If she was lucky there wouldn’t be any ill side effects other than being overly bitchy tomorrow. Threat dispatched she spun and examined the hole. The body glowed with holy light, obscuring the details. She sank to her knees and peered over into the edge. Crazy, the smoke rolling out of this hole smells sweet.


As the air cleared she made out a shape cloaked in white. The body twitched.

“I’m here to help you. Can you understand what I’m saying?” Falling was painful and traumatic. It wasn’t unusual for the angel to forget who they were and why they’d come to earth for a time until their body mended and acclimated to the new environment. The light began to fade, revealing features. She gasped. The angel was hot. A shock of chocolate-brown hair fell over his broad forehead leading into a strong jaw and a dimpled chin. His eyelids lifted revealing cobalt blue irises. She’d never had such naughty thoughts about an angel in her life! She flicked her tongue out to moisten her dry lips and did her best to tamp down her arousal. Her nipples were rock hard and her center throbbed.

“Heavenleigh Spirit. I came here for you.”

Her jaw dropped. “You what?”

His body went limp and his head fell back as he passed out.

“Son of a bitch.” Jumping beside him she hoisted him onto her shoulders and groaned. “Pal you’re a lot heavier than you look, and that’s saying a lot given who I am.” Gritting her teeth, she gave up on trying to drag him out and released her wings. A few flaps of the powerful black monstrosities and they were out of the hole. By the time she reached the car it was all she could do to place him in the passenger seat and buckle him in.

“Looks like I’m taking you home. Not exactly how I’d like, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”

Rounding the car she slipped behind the wheel of her black jeep, peeled out and burned rubber. Chances were someone was looking for him, and it wouldn’t take long before the humans came with their cameras and news crews.

DUAL DESIRES by Shyla Colt

DUAL DESIRES by Shyla Colt

A Red Hot and BOOM Story

The red, white and blue rally used to be a high point for Ardy Larkin. The festival brought in enough money for the town to scrape by, and added a bit of excitement to the air. This year everything’s different. Her father made a deal he couldn’t back, and now her life is forfeit. Demanded as payment for their debt she finds herself attached to the biggest, baddest, member of the Dueling Devils M.C., their president, Demon.

In need of someone to watch his children while he was away, Ardy Larkin seemed like the perfect solution to all Demon’s problems, until he caught a case of feelings for an innocent girl who didn’t belong in his world. When a dangerous situation forces his feeling to the forefront, he shows her what it means to be claimed by a member of the Dueling Devils.



Normally, the rumble of motorcycles put butterflies in Ardy Larkin’s stomach. The Red, White, and Blue Rally brought in a huge portion of money that kept the economy in Denton, North Carolina from being dead in the water. Last year, her father made a deal with the Devil—The Dueling Devils to be exact. The one-percenter biker gang fronted him enough cash to keep the family bar and grill open. The terms had never been talked about in her presence, but she knew for a fact they were short. They’d barely kept themselves clothed and fed this year. Now, it was time to pay the piper. What will the cost be?

Ardy shifted her weight and watched the chrome and steel beasts zip by the window. A group of bikes broke away from the stream and lined the parking spaces in front of the bar. Her legs turned to rubber, and she caught the edge of the counter top, holding on for dear life as she forced herself to remain standing. Red-horned caricatures of devils faced each other below a white 1 percent emblem on their vests. The Dueling Devils patches were impossible to mistake. The door swung open. Her heart slapped against her ribs.

She feigned a coolness she didn’t feel, wiping the bar with her sanitized towel. Boots stomped over the floor toward her. The swinging doors that separated the main area from the entrance flapped together.

“Ardy.” Her father’s voice held concern.

“Yes, sir?” She looked up. Her father’s stormy blue eyes bored a hole into her. Worry and concern clouded their normal vibrancy. The ever present smile considered Pat Larkin’s trademark was gone.

“Close down the shop and head home early, okay?” Shocked, she stared at him, rooted to the spot. They never closed early. “Ardy.” The terse tone of her father’s voice broke through her stupor.

“I’m on it, Da.” She placed her towel in the dirty bucket they laundered daily, and stepped from behind the bar. The sensation of eyes on her back amplified with every step she took. Flipping the sign from open to closed, she turned the dead bolt.

“Thank you. Now, straight home,” her father said.

“Oh no, I think she should stay.” The husky voice made her belly bottom out like the tallest roaster coast at an amusement park. “Your failure to come through is going to affect her directly. I think she deserves to know about it up front.”

She rotated slowly and faced the man effectively taking a wrecking ball to her life—Demon, the Dueling Devils’ president. The sheer size of him intimidated her. At least six-foot-three with broad shoulders and a solid build, the man was massive. Bronze skin peeked out from beneath the mural of colorful tattoos that covered the thick muscles of his arm. Mesmerized by his magnetism, she moved her gaze up to his face. A square jaw, long, straight nose, and oval-shaped face gave him rugged beauty. His brown eyes held novels full of experience. He couldn’t be much more than late thirties, but those eyes were wizened. Her mouth dried out, and her muscles tensed. What could he possibly want with me? Illustration of degradation, unwanted sexual advances, and submission danced behind her lids.

She’d seen the house mouses who didn’t want to be where they ended up. Dead eyes, fake smiles, and strain were the things each one seemed to have in common. Demon focused in on her, and their gazes clashed. Like a snake trapped by the flute notes played by a charmer, she found herself unable to look away.

“What the hell does Ardy have to do with any of this?” Her father’s chest heaved. He stood ramrod straight, clenching his hands, but his voice remained tempered. They had a lot riding on this. A show of the Larkins’ infamous Irish temper wouldn’t help a damn thing.

“We need to take this to the office.” Demon nodded toward the double doors that lead to the small office in the back. “Refreshments for my boys?”

“Of course .” Her father nodded. “Ardy, stay here and serve them.”

“No, she comes with us,” Demon said.

The no-negotiable tone made her stomach clench. Blood rushed in her ears. Questions swirled in her head, swarming like a hive of agitated bees trying to protect their queen from danger. Overwhelmed, each thought felt fleeting, moving out of her grasp before she could get a handle on it. Panic dumbed her. Like a deer caught in headlights, she lost the ability to rationalize. The walk to the office was the longest of her life. Ushered into a chair by her father, she sat beside him on the opposite side of the desk from Demon.

“Do you want to tell me what you meant out there?” her father said.

“She’s the payment I’ll be collecting for your debt,” Demon said.

The world spun, and she swayed as the impact stole her breath. She gripped the arms of the chair to anchor her and took deep breaths. Don’t throw up, don’t throw up. This didn’t happen in real life, not to women like her. She’d been a straight A student and hadn’t lost her virginity until twenty, for Christ’s sake.

“Bullshit!” Her father’s voice boomed in the empty space. His meaty fist pounded the wooden surface in front of him.

Demon’s jaw clenched. A pending sense of doom rocketed through her body, and she surged forward.

“Dad, let’s hear him out.”

“What?” Her father turned his head to stare at her. His round face was beet red, and a vein throbbed in the center of his forehead. “This isn’t the eighteen-hundreds. I’m not auctioning you off like some kind of whore.”

“Did I say I wanted her for sex?” Demon asked.

“What else would you want her for, Demon?”

“You’d best watch your tone, Paddy. You make a deal with the devil, he’s going to eventually come to call, especially when you don’t deliver.”

The quiet promise of violence in Demon’s voice wasn’t lost on her. She grabbed her father’s arm and dug her nails into the flesh of the corded muscles built up from years of manual labor. There were six other people in her family to worry about. He couldn’t afford to be out of commission.

“I apologize,” her father said with a thick brogue. The Irish accent always became more pronounced when strong emotions hit. Her mother claimed that’s what pulled her toward her father in the first place. Her parents were an odd pair. The staunch Catholic Irish man, and the small town Baptist African American girl—it hadn’t been an easy road to pave.

Demon nodded. “I’ll let it slide this once, given the circumstances and the fact that no one else is around to witness it. Don’t make the mistake of forgetting yourself again.” The air seemed to lose oxygen. The room shrank like some medieval torture chamber.

“What I find myself in need of is a live-in nanny. I know this family. You’re good people. She’s the oldest of four children, who’s always looked out after her younger siblings. When she grew up she tended the bar.”

She gaped at Demon, stunned by his spot—on summary. He smirked. The devilish grin changed him completely. The scary factor gave way to sexy, and she did her best not to drool. Jesus, too much work and no recreation has sent me around the bend.

“I know everything that goes on this town, Ardy,” Demon said. The sound of her name on his lips made her shiver. “My sister’s charter is here.”

“That’s it? You want her to watch someone’s kids?” Her father frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“No.” Demon’s eyes flashed. “It’s for my children. I don’t like imposing on my boys’ families all the time, or leaving them with some biker bunny. I need a more permanent arrangement”

Relief crashed over Ardy like a wave. “I can take care of children in my sleep.” She latched onto the familiar task like a lifeline. “How many are there, and what ages?”

Demon shifted his attention to her. “Two. Harley is three, and her brother Rocket is four.”

She memorized the information, turning the unique names over in her mind. “Oh those are sweet ages.” Ardy smiled.

“Yeah, they’re good kids, believe it or not.” Demon snorted.

“And how long would this be for?” her father asked.

Demon narrowed his eyes at her father. “Until I feel like the debt’s paid.” He leaned forward. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Her father ground his teeth together. “You expect her to uproot her life and what, go with you?” He drummed his fingers on his desk.

“She’d have the rally to adjust to Harley and Rocket, and say her goodbyes. But when we pull out of this town, she’ll be with us. I didn’t make this happen, Paddy. Don’t look at me as if I came in out of nowhere and shook you down. You know we’re not in the business of generosity.”

“It’s fine. I’ll do it. Birdie can run the bar in my stead. She’s just as capable. I know she can swing college and work,” Ardy said, frantic to solve this peaceably. She’d seen the destruction the Devils could do. It wasn’t something she needed to go around feeling responsible for. Arrogant or not, Demon had been right when he said this would be getting off easy. She’d seen the gang burn down an establishment before to prove a point.

“Ardy.” Her father shook his head. Shame filled his eyes. Family above all had been drilled in her head from the minute she’d been old enough to comprehend it. She wouldn’t let him back out now when they could solve this issue peaceably.

“Looks like I’m getting that overdue vacation, huh, Da?”

He shook his head.

Demon cleared his throat. “My kids are here. I expect you to spend time getting to know them, making sure they’re comfortable before we get back home. I’m a busy man, away more than I’m home. I want to know things in my house are as they should be.” The steely determination in his dark eyes turned her blood cold. They promised pain if she did wrong by his kids.

“I—I understand,” Ardy said.

“Good, I’ll be back around this evening with them. Be ready to go back to the hotel with us.”

“I—okay?” She glanced at her dad, who issued a curt nod. If he lost it now, things would get ugly fast. You didn’t mess with the Dueling Devils. People who mouthed off, or double crossed them, had a way of disappearing, or wishing they could. Nerves made her bounce her leg.

“I think you should get home and get your things together. It’s time Demon and I speak alone.”

Uncertain of who trumped who in this situation, she turned to glance at Demon, who nodded. “Oh yeah, I think we’ll get along just fine,” Demon said with a sly smile.

Heat filled her cheeks, and she looked away, embarrassed by the spark of excitement that rose in her chest. She’d never been out of town other than away games during basketball season in high school. There was freedom in leaving behind everything she knew, and the mile-high pile of responsibilities that tied her to the bar. She loved her family, but she often dreamed of more. In a town where couples had known one another since the womb and been married off right out of high school, she’d always felt like the odd man out.

Hindered by the responsibility of playing surrogate mother while her parents scrimped together every penny they made to get the bar up and running, she’d never really had a chance to connect to anyone on that level. Guilt made her lower her head as she stood. I should be terrified. What kind of a person wants to leave behind their home?

Ashamed, she slunk out of the office and took the back exit.

She sat inside her car, gathering her thoughts as she ran over what she’d tell her mother. There’d be hell in the Larkin home. Her mother had been against dealing with the Devils in the first place. Having her firstborn whisked away like some fairytale gone wrong would only exasperate the rift her father’s decision made.

Her thoughts wandered back to Demon. He ran the Dueling Devils with an iron fist, made men twice his size quake in fear, but cared enough to hire a nanny for his kids? Hell, him having kids had come as a shock. What happened to the mother? Full of questions with no answers, she started up the reliable sedan and pulled out of the parking lot.



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