Friday, September 26, 2014

BOO by Ba Tortuga

BOO by BA Tortuga

Boo! Things that go bump in the night rub together in these paranormal shorts from BA Tortuga. From vampires and werewolves, to cowboys and Vikings, to the silliest Halloween costume ever, the boys of Boo are hot, complicated and oh, so ready to see what the night holds for them.



"Daniel, Father Vincent says you must."

"But..." Daniel groaned, meeting Sister Abby's eyes in something incredibly close to panic. Texas? He had to go all the way back to Texas and see Declan? Really? He’d done so well, for so long.

"You want to advance to the next level of enlightenment, don't you? It's been five years since you came to us. Five years since your... loss of control. You must face your demons." Her hand patted his, her eyes black as holes in her lean face. She'd been the first person he'd met, once he'd passed the trials, passed the bad times, stopped listening to the sounds of his mother's screams, Declan's roars. 
She'd helped him through the last brutal year, through the agony of his daily affirmations.

Abby was his savior, the one who'd supported him month after month, helping him overcome his baser urges.

Still, this would be Hell -- to go home, to look into those bright, amazing eyes and ask forgiveness. 
Declan had been the hardest part of the separation process. Declan, who smelled like home and looked like a primal god. Declan who haunted his dreams, who made him want... awful things.

Terrible things.

Wonderful things.

"Daniel!" Abby's voice snapped through the air, and she swatted him with a paper. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" 

"Fantasizing. One must face the reality of their situation. You will go, you will make peace, and you will return."

"The reality." He nodded, looked down at his pale, lean hands. Once they'd been tanned, clever, working leather and tack and now? Now he did the organization's books. "Okay. I'll go. It'll take me three days to get there. Three days to get back."

"Take whatever time you need. We'll be here, waiting for you, brother."

"Thanks." He shook his head, though, knowing this would be easier said than done.

"Have faith. Be strong. I did this, you can, too." She nodded to him, then stood. "Come back safe, brother."

He nodded, sighed, and grabbed his duffel bag. Safe. Right. He fucking hated Texas.

Nothing good ever happened to him there.


Thursday, September 25, 2014


UNDER A RAVENING MOON Box Set by Sam Cheever

The Halloween Love series box set, follows the Lupire, a race of elite protectors with both werewolf and vampire in their bloodlines, and the beautiful black females of the Lupa Guardian pack. These two elite groups share a common protect the magical and human worlds from evil. What they don't that their destinies are also intertwined under mating magic...the most powerful force any of them will ever encounter.

Bound by Blood - Book 1
Moon Burn - Book 2
Blue Moon - Book 3
Deep, Dark Desire - Book 4


Phelan Donald stood in the center of a clearing and lifted his nose into the air. The night was deeply, densely dark, filled with the sounds of movement from unseen creatures. Their warm scent roiled around him, making his stomach growl hopefully.

A sharp crack split the night, followed by a soft curse, as someone stepped on a twig. Phelan’s keen, dark gold gaze swung in that direction. His skin quivered and his canines elongated. He scented the air and caught the sensual tang of a female shifter, infused with a power cocktail of anger, excitement, and aggression.

He grinned. It was an interesting mix for a female.

Phelan melted into the shadows beneath the trees and waited, listening to the soft footfall of the woman as she approached the clearing. When she pushed through the trees and stood just a few feet away, his senses exploded.

Her scent rolled over him, making his body clench with need. His mouth watered and his fangs ached, but more importantly, his groin tightened at her musky female scent. She was moderately tall for a woman, broad shouldered and narrow hipped, with long legs and lean, muscular arms. Her skin was a creamy brown, and her hair was midnight black, cut short and spiky. The moonlight glazed the spiky silk with silver highlights.

Her face was a small oval in the dusky light, with high, pronounced cheekbones and slanted golden-brown eyes. He swallowed hard and fought the urge to grab her. To taste her lips and stroke her body.
Phelan frowned. No female had reached his sensual core for a long time. He wasn’t sure why this one had. She was definitely attractive. But so were a lot of the women he dealt with on a daily basis.

It must just be because he was hungry. He was hungrier, in fact, than he could ever remember being. He definitely should have fed before coming to work.

Suddenly the female stiffened, her nostrils flared as if she were scenting the air, and her head swiveled in his direction. She turned her body toward him, widening her legs in battle stance, her hands fisted at her sides. “Show yourself.”

Phelan’s shock nearly made him gasp. She’d scented him. How was that possible? When they wanted to be, his kind was nearly invisible to other paranormals. They could be invisible, scentless, and soundless, blending perfectly into their surroundings at will. But this lean, beautiful she-wolf had known he was there. It wasn’t possible. Unless.

Phelan immediately shook off the thought. His kind didn’t mate either. Or rather…it was extremely rare for them to find their perfect mate. There were too many damn rules and restrictions. Most of his kind had stopped trying, contenting themselves with quick tumbles and short, intense affairs instead. He’d been better than most at pretending he didn’t care how empty these events left him. But whatever the reason, as he separated himself from the shadows and stepped into the clearing, a single thought slid through his mind.

This was no ordinary female.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

BLOOD HUNGRY by Marie Treanor

BLOOD HUNGRY by Marie Treanor 

Blood Hunters, 6

A love doomed by time...

Tough young ex-soldier, John Ramsay is in Amsterdam with his posse of vampire hunters, investigating the bizarre nightly battles between local vampires and skinheads, when he finds himself transported from his hotel bed to a strange, sleazy nightclub. There, he encounters a dangerous, beautiful young woman who stakes and seduces with equal style. Although he knows nothing about her, she appears to know everything about him.

Eva's Amsterdam assignation has gone horribly wrong. The vampire lover who once drank her blood, is dead. Grieving, frustrated, full of hunger she can never assuage, she's looking for trouble when she finds John Ramsay, the reason she can never truly fall in love with anyone else. Now, at last, she wins his attention and his love - a happiness she's doomed to lose, for tangled with John's mystery of a spontaneous world-wide epidemic of skinhead fights, are events twenty years in the future that will threaten the fragile peace between vampires and humans.

John and Eva work together to prevent a disaster spanning two decades. But destiny seems determined to keep them tragically apart...



She seemed to hesitate, then set down her glass again. “There were too many of them. Without you, I’d have been in trouble.” The smile flickered once more, and he wanted very badly to kiss her lips. “You’re good, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Practice.”

“In the army? Or vampire hunting?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Drinking in Glasgow on a Friday night.” It was his standard response when he wanted to evade awkward questions, and it usually got a laugh. “Why do you want to dance with me?”

“I’ve always wanted to dance with you.” Her dark eyes were only half-mocking. Behind that, he caught again that tinge of fear and something very like a plea. It was the plea that won. Or perhaps his own desires.

He stood up, offering his hand. “Why?” he asked again.

She gazed at his fingers, another smile hovering on her lips before she took his hand and slid off her stool. She raised her eyes to his. “I can’t tell you that yet.”

“Well,” he murmured, leading her onto the dance floor. “What can you tell me?”

“What do you want to know?”

He slid his good arm around her waist, and this time there was no rigidity in her. She relaxed into his hold, draping her own arm around his neck.

“For starters,” he said, “where the hell are we?”

A hiss of laughter escaped her lips. “That’s why I like you, John Ramsay. You don’t say much, but when you do, it’s totally honest. We’re in a nightclub that doesn’t even have a name, in the middle of Amsterdam’s old red-light district. Why? Where are you supposed to be?”

So she got that much. She did know more than he did about the dreams.

“In Amsterdam,” he admitted. “In my hotel room across the city.” Waiting for another woman, he recalled. For the first time, he really hoped Sarah wouldn’t knock on his door. This woman, who wasn’t called Kate, laid her head against his shoulder, and he inhaled the exotic scent of her perfume, heady and yet light. Maybe it wasn’t even perfume. It could simply have been her skin. Whatever, it coiled around his senses, feeding his desire.

The music was awful, jerky and loud and almost entirely without melody. John didn’t care. He could ignore the music and just hold her soft, yielding body in his arms. Not so soft, he remembered, when she was knocking lumps out of men—and vampires—about twice her size. Nor would he be the first man seduced by a sexy body and a self-satisfied belief that a dangerous woman was “different” with him.

The hand not around his neck lay flat against his chest. Slowly, she began to move it upward to his shoulder and then down over the stump of his left arm and the prosthetic below.

This was the moment relationships tended to break, in his head, at least. For the first time ever, he didn’t want to see a girl’s reaction. He’d have closed his eyes to avoid this one. He didn’t need to, since all he could see was the top of her head. But there was no stiffening in his arms, no hasty removal of her exploring hand. Instead, she ran her fingers up and down his arm several times before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“It doesn’t bother you,” he murmured into her hair.

She shook her head. He had the unexpected notion she was smiling. “I find it—comforting.”

“That’s different,” he observed, tightening his arm around her. He brought up his other arm too, holding her in both, and she lifted her head to smile at him, a sensual, siren’s smile. Too confident in her own undoubted powers of seduction. Deliberately, he lowered his hands to reach the first swell of her bottom and pressed her closer into his straining erection.

He caught her gasp, saw the heat flood her face, and knew with fierce triumph that he wasn’t the only one being seduced. In fact, it was time, more than time, to change leaders. He moved his hips, swaying, rubbing, and lowered his head.

Her eyes melted. As her lips parted for him, they trembled, until he covered them with his and kissed her.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers closed on his neck almost painfully, and then clung. Her mouth opened at the first pressure of his, but oddly, hers was no siren’s kiss after all. It was almost…virginal. She tasted divine, her mouth soft and warm and yielding as she clung to his lips.

He released her lips slowly, reluctantly, and only to draw breath before he went back for more. He’d expected passion from this woman, but not that sweetness, and he was enchanted.

“So that’s how John Ramsay kisses,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Let me count the ways,” he said and sank his mouth back into hers. This time, she met his tongue with her own, sliding, caressing, and suddenly she kissed him back, not with that almost shy, wondering response but with fierce, demanding sensuality, and John was lost.

He caressed her hips, holding her firmly to him, drawing her up on tiptoe so that he could fit his straining erection between her thighs. She gasped, sliding her fingers into his hair, bunching the back of his shirt in her fist.

“You would make love with me,” he said against her lips.

Laughter trembled in her throat. “Of course I bloody would.”


Tuesday, September 23, 2014



When anthropologist Georgia Cortez heads to rural Georgia from New Mexico, she’s on the trail of a juicy old legend. Haley Falls seems like just the place for old-time ghost stories and spooky hauntings, but she’s on the hunt for something far rarer, a survival of an old sect of medieval knights.

Caid and Alton are Haley Fall natives, and they used to be best friends. A falling out years ago ended in them not speaking, even after Alt left town and returned older, if not wiser. They unite when it comes to a nosy scholar like Georgia picking apart their heritage, and putting their whole town in danger. When boys meet girl, though, they decide wooing is far better than scaring the lady off, and they set about distracting Georgia in the best way.

While their three way romance heats up, so does the intrigue in Haley Falls, until the three of them are facing a danger far worse than falling in love with each other.



"So, who's the new girl?" Alton Caballo asked when he went to fill up his big pickup. "Heard she stopped by here to get gas."

"Everyone stops by here to get gas." Caid stared at him like he'd lost his mind, looking damned fine in a pair of old Levi's and his uniform shirt. Too bad Caid wasn't interested. Alton was. Hell, he'd been trying for years. Probably would have succeeded by now if he hadn't left town all those years ago.

"Well, what's her deal?"

"She told Amy she was looking into the legends of the waterfall. She's from New Mexico. Her last name is Cortez."

"New Mexico, huh? I reckon that's a new one. And she's pretty?"

Caid's stare sharpened. "I'm sure she's just passing through, Alt. She don't need you sniffing around like a blue tick hound."

"Why not?" Damn it, he got bored. A man could only make so much moonshine and do so much ridge running. Sometimes he needed a distraction while he waited for the next batch of southern lightning to cure up. Miss Georgia Cortez might be a whole lot more accommodating than, say, Caid Chevalier.

"She's just here on some hoodoo hunt; she'll be gone soon enough." Caid went to filling his tank, and Alt knew it galled the man to have to wait on him, but old Frank wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"I like a woman with a sense of adventure, I surely do." He chewed on his toothpick, having a think. "I bet she'd like to meet my pappy. He's got some story in him."

"Too much story, you ask me." Those green eyes went hard, staring right into his, the meaning clear. "He don't rightly know what not to say anymore."

Oh, now. He did hate when Caid got all self-righteous on his ass. "Now, I think Pappy tells a right good tale. He knows his stories."

"He does, and when he sits around with us guys and bullshits it's one thing. This lady's got some smart on her." Caid glanced around, like anyone could be hiding out and listening without them damned well seeing them. "I read a few of her articles online."

"God for fucking bid. You think them gub'ment guys might be scanning your brain through that thing?" Alt could do backwoods with the best of 'em.

Caid took two steps forward and poked him in the chest. "I mean she's smart, and for all her bluster about being an anthropologist, she's a treasure hunter."

Alton snorted. "Hell, man. You think if all them boys with the equipment and crap that come back in eighty-five couldn't find nothing, this little gal can? Shit. There's snakes and bugs and all."

"She's from New Mexico. They got bugs we haven't even heard of."

Honestly, Caid was such a damned worrywart.

"Yeah, and we got kudzu. Man, you need to get laid."

Those blond eyebrows went up, Caid's mouth dropping open. "I need to get... Aw, man, don't start that again. I can't help it you're a horndog."

"No. No, I don't reckon you can. You done yet, man? I'm gonna head into town." He pulled a couple of twenties from his fold over wallet, finishing his beer to take the bitter out of his mouth.

"Yeah." Capping him off, Caid put his gas cap back in place, giving him his change. "Look, I know you hate being told what to do, so I'm asking. Leave the lady alone."

"Jesus. It ain't like I'm lookin' to skin her and drag her off to my cabin. Shit, you want her, go get her." He just wanted to have a looksee.

"I'm thinking about it." Oh, now, look at that smile. That grin was the kind of thing Caid needed to do more often. Made that square face so pretty it took Alt's breath.

"Good luck on that, then." He handed over his money and waited for the change. Fuckhead.

Caid gave him his change, those rough fingers sliding over his hand, almost friendly like. Real friendly, as far as his lower body was concerned.

"You have a good one, man. Maybe, if she likes bad boys instead of angel babies, you can have a go at Amy."

"Fuck you, too, Alt." Stepping back, Caid waved him off, and it was just as well. Nosy old Suellen Carter was pulling up in her Caddy.

He waved happily, grinning to beat the band. Sometimes it felt damn good to win a little.

Damn good.


Monday, September 22, 2014

SORORITY WOLF by Rebecca Royce

SORORITY WOLF by Rebecca Royce

ROAR Series

Kieran is a demon with a big problem. The person whose body he has stolen won’t give up and fights him on every front. Not to mention he has to figure out how to blackmail the president of a werewolf sorority to appease his demon father. He has no time for lost werewolf Alexandra. But he can’t stop thinking about her.

Alexandra is a werewolf who needs a pack. She comes to college determined to get one. But when her plans fall apart, she turns to Kieran for help—unaware of his true nature or exactly what he wants from her.

The two will play a dangerous game…and with so much at stake, can they see the love right in front of their eyes?


Excerpt:The wind blew hard against him, and his body acted as a natural resistance to the onslaught of a Massachusetts winter. Three months into the school year, November had hit the northeastern part of the United States with a vengeance. Any sane person would be inside where it was warm. But she had come outside, and he’d followed—as though a length of invisible rope connected him to her.

He loved to watch her.

The way she moved. The way she sometimes didn’t move.

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. How long had it been since he’d shaved? A day? A week? A month? The longer he spent with the humans, the more his body adapted to their form, which was exactly what he’d planned and why he’d risked everything to come to Northern Tide University. The more time he spent in this dimension, the less he had to try to resemble them.

Not understanding total assimilation was exactly what he craved, his father had warned him this would happen as if blending would deter him from his plan.

Only he hadn’t counted on her.

Alexandra Morgan.

She stood staring up at a white sorority house at the very top of the Greek hill the university was so proud of. Queen House—the one to rule them all—where dreams of young girls were crushed on a regular basis. All the female students desired to be Lambda Chi Sigma. The smartest, prettiest, strongest-willed women the university produced came from the sorority housed there. But first, they had to be accepted into the hallowed halls.

Unbeknownst to the human population of the school, LCS took only one type of student—female werewolves. No matter how many human girls threw their best smiles, hopes, dreams, and money at LCS, they would never be offered the opportunity to pledge. Unless they shifted under the full moon, they were no one.

If he wasn’t mistaken, Alexandra met that particular requirement.

So, why was she so nervous?

Sunday, September 21, 2014

VIRGIN'S BLOOD by Tianna Xander

VIRGIN'S BLOOD by Tianna Xander

Chosen Series Book One

When TASHA HINKEY was younger her Grandmother told her she should believe at least one impossible thing per day. Lately it's been five, before breakfast!

After shooting the man who killed her best friend, Tasha is on the run. She'd expected that. She also expected to be alone. But she certainly never included being followed by a sizzling hot vampire into her plans. MICAH DARTRAZINSKI insists they are destined to spend eternity together.



His arms tightened around me. Big strong arms too, I might add. My clit twitched with delight. I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore it. I do have a brain in my head and I’m not about to let my nether parts tell me whom to sleep with.

Against my will, my left hand left the confines of my right armpit, where I’d stuck it for protection. It slid sensuously up over his chest and shoulder, before it slowly wrapped itself around his neck.

To my complete surprise and mortification, I buried my hand in his hair and brought my head closer to his.

“Why can’t I stop myself?” I asked, just before I pressed my lips against his.

“You find me irresistible,” he growled against my mouth. His voice was compelling. The low timber crawled through my body like a living thing. It made me want to do all sorts of interesting things with this man. His tongue dueled with mine, both of us wanted to win a war of dominance.

When our lips met, I felt much as I did with Brock, but with Micah, I felt . . . more. I wanted to kiss him, to fondle him. To know I gave satisfaction as much as I was receiving it.

With Brock, it had been different. I had wanted nothing more than to feel his huge cock as it pounded inside me.

“Stop thinking of other men,” Micah said, against my mouth as he playfully nipped at my lips.

I looked around and noticed, for the first time, that I was lying on my bed. Either I hadn’t paid attention while he searched the upstairs for my room, or he had a great sense of direction. I’m pretty sure it was the former.

I pulled away and fought for my next breath. I needed space. I needed to get away from him to think. I couldn’t concentrate when he was so close, when I could feel the heat from his body as it seeped into mine. It sent little licks of flame through my blood.

It wasn’t normal that he could read my mind. Sure, I’ve heard of telepathy but I’ve never met anyone with it. The whole idea was absurd. If I believe that, the next thing he’ll tell me is that we can communicate without talking. It was all I could do, not to snort.

He ran his hand through my hair and pushed my bangs back from my face to look into my eyes.

“You must rid yourself of your virginity. It is a weakness – a weapon that can be held against you.”

“Now I’ve heard it all,” I laughed derisively and pushed at his chest. “All of my life, my father, my grandmother and the church have told me to abstain. Then suddenly you come along and tell me that I have to have sex to save my life? Puhleeze!”

This is too much!

I slid out from under him and tried to avoid his roaming hands. Then I stood up, walked to the window and looked out through the darkness. I wrapped my arms around my churning middle and wondered how many more impossible things I was expected to face in one day.

Friday, September 19, 2014


COWBOY UP with stories by Melissa Keir, Allison Merritt, Vickie Taylor, Leslie Garcia, Autumn Piper, Sara Walter Ellwood and D'Ann Lindun

Seven men as tough as the west...Seven women who know how to Cowboy Up.

A book bundle featuring some of the hottest Western authors around. Each story is unique. The bundle goes from sweet to sizzling with a story sure to please every fan of Western Romances.

Always, Cowboy by Allison Merritt
The past is better left behind, unless it offers a brighter future.

Cowboys Don’t Cry by Vickie Taylor
A broken cowboy with nothing left to lose…except his heart.

A Cowboy’s Heart by Leslie Garcia
Teenage lovers torn apart by betrayal. Have seventeen years changed everything—or nothing?

The Heartsong Cowboy by Melissa Keir
Can two people, one horse and the power of love cure a little girl?

Cowboy Trouble by Autumn Piper
She’s decided to make some bad choices this weekend.

Chasing a Cowboy by Sara Walter Ellwood
He’s running from heartbreak. She’s chasing after love… Their hearts will never be the same.

Cowboy Bred, Cowboy Born by D’Ann Lindun
Freedom or family? Only love can make the choice.




Can two people, one horse and the power of love cure a little girl?

Angela French blames herself for her daughter’s lack of voice. Determined to do anything to correct the situation, she seeks out Jake Kyncade, the owner of The Heartsong Ranch.

Jake Kyncade hides his own sorrows behind his no-nonsense demeanor. Helping children becomes one way to correct his past. Using equine therapy, he sets out to make a difference.

Can Jake help Angela’s dreams come true or will Jake’s past bring more heartache? Will love save them all?


With Taylor asleep on the couch, Angela snuck the magazine out of her daughter’s sleeping hands before carrying her to her bed. After making sure her baby was tucked in, she turned out the lights and went to the kitchen. She sat down at the table to study the article about the horse whisperer. The photos gave off a peaceful feeling—so much so, she longed to jump into the images. Along with the horses, there were shots of children laughing and petting the animals. The article mentioned a little boy with Down’s Syndrome whose language increased after a week of animal therapy. The Heartsong Ranch. Even the name sounds encouraging. Dare I get my hopes up?

One photo in particular captured her attention. The owner, Jake Kyncade, wore jeans and a cowboy hat as he stood next to the ranch sign. She took a deep breath as butterflies circled in her abdomen. He’s sexy. Very different from Mike. Mr. Kyncade has this wounded look in his eyes. I wonder what his trauma was. I’ve gotten better at noticing it in others. Still, he’s good looking. Probably married with his own children.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

MY SALVATION by Caitlyn Willows

 MY SALVATION by Caitlyn Willows

A traffic accident took away Aaron’s salvation, his fiancée Melinda.

Lost and grief-stricken, he plunged back into his former days, drowning his grief in mindless parties and drunken debauchery, until a random accident of his own threatens his very soul. Trapped at the crossroads of heaven and hell, he finds himself in limbo, waiting for the Powers That Be to determine his fate.

Now, as his soul hovers between eternal bliss and endless damnation, Melinda returns from the grave to help him earn his salvation once more.



Aaron Crane hoisted the bottle of Absolut to his lips and chugged it. He’d passed the buzz-stage quite some time ago, yet he still maintained a death grip around the neck. The vodka dulled the pain in his heart, filled the void in his soul, and faded the memories that assaulted him even in his dreams.

“Are you taking a leak or what?” Joe Sanchez hollered back.

“Keep your panties on,” Aaron yelled back.

He heard the other three snicker in response, most probably because Aaron had used the word “panties” rather than for the insult he’d intended. God, they really were an immature bunch. None of them had evolved beyond the mentality of a college freshman. Fun was belching contests, seeing who could piss the farthest, and laying down quarter bets of whatever game was on TV, while they scratched their balls and scarfed pizza. Aaron was the only one of the bunch who held a steady job. If he kept partying with these guys, he’d be standing behind them in the unemployment line, and he knew it. Insurance companies liked their claims adjusters alert and attentive, not to mention timely, and he’d been none of those lately. Hungover, emaciated, and perpetually tardy were more likely descriptions.

And yet, in his grief, Aaron had chosen to return to this comfort zone rather than setting out on his own. The more time he spent with these four, the more he disliked them…and himself. But then, he’d hated life and himself since the night Melinda died. The only thing he wanted was to be dead, too. That’s how he felt inside—dead.

He tossed back another drink. Who the hell got the bright idea to stop off in the middle of the desert? They were halfway to Vegas. Why the fucking side-trip?

“Screw it.”

Aaron sank to the nearest boulder and stared across a landscape silvered with the light of a full moon. A warm breeze washed over him. They’d made love under a moon like this once, with only the wind as their blanket. Melinda had wrapped her legs around his. They’d clutched each other as closely as two people could as they soared to the stars watching over them.

He’d loved everything about her from the moment they’d met—her beauty, her goodness, her laughter, her mind. Melinda made him want to be a better person. Hell, he had become a better person, shrugging off his errant ways to be the man she’d want. She was his salvation. Everything he’d dreamed of had seemed to fall in his lap once she’d beamed her smile over him. Paths Aaron never knew existed opened. The world, the future, was golden.

The day he proposed they’d scoured the Internet for the perfect honeymoon spot. There was really only one choice—Desirata. Melinda had read about the idyllic island chain in a travel magazine; a tropical paradise where all a person’s needs were met. It was off the beaten tourist path, exclusive, private—visitation was granted on a person’s needs, not their wealth. Melinda filled out the application, her eyes shining the whole time.

“I know they’ll accept us,” she’d said.

Aaron didn’t care where they went. As long as they were together, he’d give her the world if he could. What better place to start than on a white sand beach perched on the edge of a crystal blue-green ocean?

And just like that…she was ripped away from him. All because some fool blabbering on a cell phone ran a stop light at sixty miles per hour. She’d died clutching the envelope containing the Desirata application.

Grief had torn him in two. He’d tried so hard and for what? To bury the woman he loved? It was all for nothing. In the end, that’s all he had…nothing.

Aaron had quickly reverted to his previous ways, hoping to drown out the unrelenting pain that haunted him day and night. He hated life, hated the four rowdy friends who couldn’t wait to pull him back into their fold. Where once he’d found some measure of joy in the constant partying, now it was merely an escape from the horrors of an unjust world.

He closed his eyes as the breeze brushed over him, lifting the hairs on his arms. His mind drifted with the sensation, imagining Melinda was here with him, gently dancing her fingers against his skin. She’d kiss her way down his throat, while she toyed his nipples into hard dots meant for suckling. While her lips played there, her hands would wander to his cock, stroking, kneading…

Aaron clutched at the erection that burst to life. “Not now…please.”

In his present state, relief wouldn’t be possible. He was too drunk. The fact he had a hard-on at all was a shock. But with memories of Melinda assaulting him, his dick refused to obey the rules. All he could think about was how great her lips felt around him, how tight her hot pussy felt when he was inside, and how painfully lonely the world was with her gone.

Emotion clogged Aaron’s throat. Tears welled up behind his eyelids. Hand shaking, he lifted the bottle to his lips. A sudden gust of wind knocked him off-balance. Arms flailing, he toppled backward. The vodka bottle shattered against the boulder.

Aaron sat on the hard cushion of sand. Moonlight glinted off the shards of glass. Fear welled up inside him. He needed the forgetfulness in that bottle. The pain in his heart was too much to bear without it.

He hugged his knees to his chest. That’s when he noticed the blood. His hand was cut and he hadn’t—still didn’t—felt a thing. Heartache was more than he could bear, but a cut like this…nothing. It was really bleeding, too.

Wonder if it needs stitches? In his fogged brain he tried to calculate the distance to the nearest hospital. A coyote’s howl nearby snapped him upright. He was just pondering whether they could scent blood like a shark when he heard Joe stomping back his way.

“What the fuck, man. You comin’ or not?”

“I fell. Jesus, cut me some fuckin’ slack.”

Aaron shoved himself to his feet. He staggered there for a second or two, then followed Joe. At least the hard-on was gone. He glanced down to make sure and stumbled over his feet, nearly plowing into the other man.

Joe caught his shoulder to steady him. “You okay? Jeez, what happened to your hand?”

Aaron pulled away when he reached for it. “Bottle broke. It’s just a cut. It’ll stop bleeding soon. What was so all-fired important that we had to stop in the middle of nowhere?”

“Check it out.” He motioned to where the other three stood, just beyond a sign that read, “Government Facility. Restricted Area. No Trespassing.”

What little morality Aaron had remaining reared its head. He pulled Joe back. “Are you nuts? This is a restricted area. You’re going to have us thrown in jail.”

“Like we’re gonna get caught way out here. And since when did a little something like rules stop you?” He trudged onward.

Aaron followed reluctantly behind. God only knew where they were. Visions of Area 51 gendarmes swooping down on them filled his head. They weren’t in that area, were they? He’d paid no attention to the direction in which Joe had driven. His only interest had been in reaching the bottom of the bottle.

“What is it?” he asked as he crept forward. Please don’t let it be an alien, his drunken brain whined.

“Take a look.” Joe pointed to six rectangular boxes. They looked like—

“Are those caskets?” Aaron asked.

“Sure enough.” He actually sounded proud of the discovery. “I found them the last time I came through. I was looking for a place to take a leak and there they were. Suppose it’s a desert cemetery someone dug up?”

Aaron frowned. They were old coffins, nothing more than pine boxes. But they didn’t have the aged look he would have associated with a desert cemetery. Still…it was night. “Where are the bodies that were inside?”

“Ewww…” Joe adopted a spooky voice. “Maybe it’s a vampire lair.”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot. Let’s get out of here.” He turned to go.

“Scaredy-cat. I’ll pay you fifty bucks to lay down in one.”

The other three snickered—their comment on everything.

So, that’s what this was all about. Aaron tossed up his hands. “Whatever. I’ll play your stupid game.” Anything to get out of here and on the road. The bleeding hadn’t stopped. He really needed to find a hospital.

He staggered over to the nearest coffin. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. Shaking his head to clear it, Aaron hoisted himself inside and stretched out.

“Satisfied?” he asked. “Pay up.” But he couldn’t move. Weakness overwhelmed him.

I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.

His mind slipped into the limbo stage of twilight sleep. Soon the nightmares would take him and there was nothing Aaron could do to stop them. He drifted on a sea of nothingness. Two tunnels lay ahead—one dark, one light—and there he hovered, waiting…waiting…waiting.

Monday, September 15, 2014



Paradise Series Book One

As Alpha of the Paradise clan, it's Adam Greer's duty to save his people from extinction. With Nick Hill, his beta's help, he tracks down a descendant of one of the families that broke away from the pride many years ago. They can only hope that TJ Woodward agrees to come back to Paradise as the first newcomer in generations, to infuse the clan with new DNA.

Nina Bidel, a close friend of bestselling suspense author, TJ Woodward, finds dozens of half-written manuscripts when she packs away his estate after his death. With his will naming her his sole beneficiary, she sees no harm in completing the books TJ started. But someone out there is determined that the novels never see the light of day. When they think they have finally caught up to TJ, intent on bringing him to their home, Adam and Nick realize the last several books released weren’t written by TJ Woodward, but by spunky Nina Bidel. Nina jumps at the chance to escape the men determined to kill both her and TJ’s remaining novels. None of them expect the chain of events her deception is about to unleash.



Damn! If he wasn’t so pressed for precious time, he’d pursue her. A little recreational sex was just what the doctor ordered. He’d loved watching her. Then she’d gone and disappointed him by eating too quickly and leaving barely ten minutes after they arrived. Still, by the way she carried herself, he’d bet she was beat. Even the dark circles under her eyes couldn’t detract from her loveliness. It merely brought out his protective instincts. His cock grew hard at the mere thought of sinking into her moist heat.

Nick leaned toward him, his telepathic link clear, Will you stop it already?

Adam’s eyes widened. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d connected with you.

Well, you did. Don’t you usually connect with me when you see a prime specimen like her? Nick gave a snort of derision. Now mycock is near to bursting with no relief in sight. It’s been years since I’ve felt such an intense craving for a woman. I want nothing more than to seek her out, bury my head between her legs and lap up her woman’s thick cream like a cub.

Adam could only agree with that idea. It wasn’t until they both saw the woman slinking through the darkness on their way to their room that their suspicions were aroused. He held up his hand, silently stopping Nick in his tracks.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

A BOX OF PROMISES by Michelle Levigne

A BOX OF PROMISES by Michelle Levigne

Tabor Heights Year Two

Meg, Andrea, Ray, Bergen and Casey -- dorm sisters with summer plans. Meg: help Mexican orphans. Andrea: publish newspaper articles. Ray: get Michael's attention. Bergen: work with wolves at the zoo. Casey: survive as head camp lifeguard. Those who don't reach their goals pay for a pizza party at the end of the summer.

Sunburn, bubblegum in hair, "mean girls," lunatic customers, temporary blindness, political games and other assorted problems detour the girls from their goals. Life sneaks up and surprises them with opportunities they never expected -- along with five men who find them more than interesting. Will they survive their summer and reach their goals? By the time they return to their dorm, the girls realize that life is what happens when you make other plans.



We, the undersigned, do hereby swear before God and these witnesses, that we will do something worthwhile and will come back to the fourth floor of Ontario Hall, Butler-Williams University, on Wednesday, August 26, to report to each other on our summer apart.

Anyone who does not fulfill their specific goals or do something even more worthwhile shall pay forfeit by buying a pizza party for all members of the pact.

Solemnly sworn and witnessed. The dorm sisters, fourth floor, Ontario Hall:

Casey Jenkins
VOW: Save a life, get a date for end-of-camp dance
Actually save a life, not just some airhead's social standing like last year when I fixed her dress with a stapler and paperclips -- and get a real date with a guy near my own age, not a pity date with one of the maintenance guys from the boys' camp across the lake.

Meg Tally
VOW: Lose twenty pounds, read through the entire Bible, and teach sewing so all my students have a new dress by the end of the summer.

Maraya Hammersmith
VOW: Work six VBS sessions, grow my hair, get a tan, and finally get the attention of Michael Naismith.

Bergen Mercer
VOW: Work my way up to a job in Wolf Wilderness.

Andrea Gregory
VOW: Write and publish two stories for the Tabor Picayune


By the time Hess got off the phone, Andrea had read through fifteen reports and typed in the most interesting and off-beat of them into her computer. Just fifteen incidents over the weekend. It barely took any time at all to go through them. Barking dogs. Kids skinny-dipping in the park after hours. The "ghost" at the Historical Society building turned out to be an archivist working late. The person who reported the ghost had broken her glasses that morning and couldn't see beyond the reach of her hand.

"Slim pickings this week," Hess said with a grin and a shrug, when he walked over to retrieve the report book.

"That loony over on Prague Rd. threatened to beat up the entire circulation department again," she offered.

"Yeah, we know. We have a special folder just for all his threats. The thing is, Prague Road is the dividing line between Tabor and Hyburg, and he's on the Hyburg side of the line. All his threats are for the police in Hyburg to deal with." "Especially since he's grumbling about Hyburg's paper, not ours, and the threats are against their circulation department, not ours. You can't tell him that, though. Every time someone tells him he's calling the wrong office, he goes into his rant about how all the newspapers in the country are owned by the government and he doesn't pay his taxes to get a runaround from lazy communist pinko wannabes who wouldn't know good customer service if it gave them a black eye."

Saturday, September 13, 2014



Virginia City, Nevada, in 1870, is no place for a graduate of Miss Pomeroy's exclusive finishing school. And Marguerite Stokes makes no secret of her displeasure at her father's insisting she join him there.

Her subsequent angry tantrums lead him to place her under the supervision of stern schoolmaster William Melton, who has a firm hand but a secret hatred for the Stokes family. His attraction to Marguerite is immediate, but can he reconcile his desire for her with his grudge against her father?

When her father decides to force Marguerite to marry William, she is forced to choose between making her own way in the tough Wild West, or submitting to the authority of her father's secret enemy. Will the feisty, determined young lady take flight? Or can William convince her that she belongs by his side - and under his strong hand?



Joining Alice on her knees, she peered over the top of the seat to see the couple, apparently unaware, or maybe just uncaring, that they were no longer alone.

The woman, a blowsy redhead, shrieked a curse at her husband and drew back her hand to swing at him. He ducked aside and removed his black felt hat from his slicked-down salt-and-pepper hair, hanging it on a hook beside the window. As she flailed and called him names, he calmly unbuttoned his jacket and hung it as well then opened his sleeves and rolled them to his elbows.

“Alice,” she hissed, “what is he doing?”

The Irish girl giggled. “Just watch.”

The next time the woman swung, the man caught her wrist and twisted it around her back. She shrieked another volley of curses, but this time it might be pain and not rage. Her florid cheeks and wild eyes met the girls’ but she didn’t react or tell the man.

“We should go.” Marguerite felt as if they were interrupting something personal, but Alice put an arm about her waist and rested her heat on her shoulder as they knelt side by side.

“I don’t think they mind.”

But did she mind? Marguerite couldn’t decide but the man had not seemed to notice them and she feared that if they made a move, he would. As the redhead panted, he dropped into the seat sideways, legs out in the aisle and, with a jerk, pulled her over his lap, her belly on his trousers, her face toward the back of the car.

He murmured something and she answered in a strangled tone, but with their voices so low, she could not make out what was said. Then he murmured something else and the woman—his wife?—began to struggle, kicking her legs and flailing over his lap.

“Maybe we can go now….” She started to turn, but Alice tightened her hold.

“No, we can’t. Just hush.” At a glance, she saw her friend’s color heightened as well. What was the man going to do that had her in such a state?

Then it became clear. To her complete horror and embarrassment, he lifted his wife’s skirt and underskirt, then unfastened her bustle and dropped it to the floor. As she kicked and cried out, he continued to pull and push and unfasten until only her pantalets remained to cover her female parts and her bottom.

“What are they doing?”


He rested his palm on her back and spoke in a low, calm voice for some minutes and after a bit, the redhead’s flailing slowed then stopped and, relieved, although still confused, she turned to speak to Alice when the first thud emerged above the rumbling of the train car. She jerked her head around to find him lifting his hand for another smack and another, peppering his wife’s cotton clad behind with firm smacks as she shuddered and sobbed. Marguerite began to count, under her breath, one, two, and including the first one she hadn’t seen, he spanked her twenty-five times before he stopped.

Also available in the SCHOOL'S IN SESSION Box Set

Five hot over-the-desk spanking romances by Blushing Book's most popular erotic romance authors. The set includes:

Laying Down the Law by Celeste Jones
Newly divorced and returning to law school after a twenty year absence, Ali Stewart has just one class to complete before sitting for the bar exam, becoming a lawyer and moving on with her life. She feels out of place with her much younger classmates, but she's determined to succeed and put her ex-husband far in the past.

When she is paired with Griff for the semester, she learns that even though he is much younger, there is much he can teach her, in and out of the classroom.

Detention With Professor Black by Dinah McLeod
Michelle Johnson has been down on her luck for the past year and life only seems to be getting worse. First, she's diagnosed with cancer, then she loses her job, her apartment and her boyfriend of six years one after the other. Now she has to move back in with the father that abandoned her after her parents' divorce. Life just couldn't get any worse.

That's what she thought, until the only teaching position she can find is Kindergarten - her least favorite! Worse yet, the principal is her old high school crush who doesn't hesitate to punish tardiness with a special kind of detention.

Educating Marguerite by Kate Richards
Virginia City, Nevada, in 1870, is no place for a graduate of Miss Pomeroy's exclusive finishing school. And Marguerite Stokes makes no secret of her displeasure at her father's insisting she join him there.

Her subsequent angry tantrums lead him to place her under the supervision of stern schoolmaster William Melton, who has a firm hand but a secret hatred for the Stokes family. His attraction to Marguerite is immediate, but can he reconcile his desire for her with his grudge against her father?

When her father decides to force Marguerite to marry William, she is forced to choose between making her own way in the tough Wild West, or submitting to the authority of her father's secret enemy. Will the feisty, determined young lady take flight? Or can William convince her that she belongs by his side - and under his strong hand?

Three Dark Hours by Maggie Carpenter
"Breathless and overcome, Isobel was lost in the moment. She had just been spanked for the very first time by her handsome teacher, the hero of her fantasies, and she was convinced she would faint from the sheer excitement of it all."

Isobel Parker believes she has neither the talent or education to write a full length novel, and to improve her skills she enrolls in an after hours creative writing course.

On the first night, excited and enthusiastic, she walks into the classroom and is shocked to see the hero of every short story she's ever written. He is tall, wide-shouldered, with black hair and sizzling blue eyes; his name is Patrick Doyle and she is hooked.

As she finishes the erotic account of spanking and other wicked pursuits, she prays that when the handsome and enigmatic Mr. Doyle reads it, he will understand it's actually a very special, very naughty invitation.

The Professor's Girl by Renee Rose
When graduate student Lucy Larson sees her hot professor, thesis advisor and employer at a spanking party, she promptly runs and hides. Later, kicking herself for her cowardice, she realizes she missed the opportunity to bring her spanking fantasies to life and sets her sights on seducing the hunky scientist. He ignores her antics until she accidentally ruins his research experiment and then he bends her over his desk for a dozen strokes of the cane.

Dr. Todd Daniels would like nothing more than to get involved with his smart and sexy lab assistant, but doing so would be unethical and risk censure from the university. Still, when she deserves a serious spanking, he delivers.

Friday, September 12, 2014

SOMEBODY'S ANGEL by Kallypso Masters

SOMEBODY'S ANGEL by Kallypso Masters

Rescue Me Saga Book Four

When Marc d’Alessio first rescued the curvaceous and spirited Italian Angelina Giardano at the Masters at Arms Club, he never expected her to turn his safe, controlled life upside down and pull at his long-broken heartstrings. Months later, the intense fire of their attraction still rages, but something holds him back from committing to her completely. Worse, secrets and memories from his past join forces to further complicate his relationships with family, friends, and his beautiful angel.

Angelina cannot give all of herself to someone who hides himself from her. She loves Marc, the BDSM world he brought her into, and the way their bodies respond to one another, but she needs more. Though she destroyed the wolf mask he once wore, only he can remove the mask he dons daily to hide his emotions. In a desperate attempt to break through his defenses and reclaim her connection to the man she loves, she attempts a full frontal assault that sends him into a fast retreat, leaving her nobody’s angel once again.

Marc finds that running to the mountains no longer gives him solace but instead leaves him empty and alone. Angelina is the one woman worth the risk of opening his heart. Will he risk everything to become the man she deserves and the man he wants to be?



Somebody’s Angel
(c) Kallypso Masters 2013

NOTE: Italics will not show up in this preview sample. Also, some apps for iPad (Kindle, for instance) make the italics disappear, which will make this book more difficult to read and understand.


As Marc D’Alessio followed his girl Angelina Giardano into the bedroom, he tried to shake the trapped feeling that had hounded him all day.
What the fuck was wrong with him? This had to be one of the best Christmases he could remember. He and Angelina had played Santa’s elves to his buddy Damián Orlando’s newfound daughter this morning. Well, that had been a high until the orphaned kitten they’d brought the little girl had triggered an emotional meltdown for her mama. Did witnessing that have something to do with his mood?

Angelina rested her head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. He’d found the woman of his dreams a few months ago and couldn’t believe his luck that she was still with him despite a huge mistake on his part. They’d been together almost three months, closing in on his record with Pamela, his last girlfriend.

He crushed her closer to him, as if afraid she’d leave. Or perhaps his unsettled feeling had him worried he’d leave her; he’d certainly done that enough times. How could he even think of doing such a thing? They weren’t even having any issues worth fighting over. Why these unbidden thoughts about someone leaving? They weren’t even having any problems.

Marc decided to make sure she wasn’t sending some vibe he was picking up on. “You okay, cara?”

“Better than okay, Sir. You got me to a very good place, but I’m exhausted.” She pulled away and stared up at him, a bliss-filled smile on her face, before placing her hand behind his neck and dragging him toward her face. Her lips were warm, inviting, and promised this evening wasn’t going to end in them rolling over and going to sleep right away.

Angelina broke the kiss and stepped back. “I’ll join you in bed after I take a shower.” She hadn’t bothered to dress from their time in the tower room. Watching her strut toward the head gave him a renewed sense of pride in the red marks he’d placed on her ass. The sashaying of her hips conveyed her pleasure in them, too. Angelina brought out the Dom in him as no woman had before.

He began undressing and hanging up his clothes as he continued to analyze what had him so off-kilter. Dinner with Angelina’s family had gone well, considering her brothers didn’t think much of anyone she dated. The setting had been the picture-perfect, Italian-American family gathering. Shit, despite his being born in Italy, that dinner had been an eye-opener. Meals with his family were formal, stately affairs—seating charts, waitstaff, and course after course served precisely on time. The Giardanos, however, sat wherever they liked at the table for eight after filling their plates to overflowing from a buffet stocked with enough food to feed a platoon of Marines.

The noise level had been mind-numbing, too. At one point, Angelina interjected a comment into a conversation happening at the opposite end of the table before going right back to her discussion with her youngest brother, Tony, seated next to her. How she had picked up on two separate conversations at once without missing a beat both impressed and confounded Marc.

Still, nothing that would account for the way he felt. They’d come home to top off the day with an intense, satisfying session in the playroom. He loved getting kinky with his girl. It relaxed them both. So why did he feel…disconnected?

He loved Angelina and wanted her in his life more than his next breath—no, not wanted, needed. What was keeping him from proposing? Angelina had made no mention of leaving him, and yet the thought haunted him, as if he expected it to happen any day.

Tonight, he planned to focus on her completely, worshiping her body. Reminded how sore her ass would be, he walked over to her vanity and retrieved the tube of lido.

Beside her hair clip, he noticed her red hairbrush had been replaced by one with a wooden handle and back. A vague feeling he couldn’t even name washed over him, and he picked it up. His friend Luke had branded his artist’s mark on the front of the wooden handle.

“Marco, spazzolami i capelli.” The older woman’s disembodied voice asking him to brush her hair sounded oddly familiar, as if coming from a place deep inside him. Who was she? Definitely not Mama’s voice.

“I’m sorry, little one…you didn’t mean for me to get hurt.”

His chest grew tight, and he dropped the brush as if it had grown red hot. But the voice echoed in his head.

* * *

Angelina, don’t even go there.

Marc had seemed so distant when she’d come out of the shower. He’d applied the soothing ointment to her burning butt. However, before they could make love, he pleaded exhaustion and rolled over. His uneven breathing made her doubt he slept despite the hours they’d lain here, which only left her to wonder what had changed his mood.

The day had been so good. Even her four brothers had played nice at Mama’s for Christmas dinner. Although they never liked anyone she dated, they knew she was more serious about Marc than she had been about any past relationships.

So why did she get the feeling Marc was retreating from her?

From the night they’d met at Rico’s, he’d gone hot and cold on her. Sometimes she wondered if planning a future for them might just lead to heartache. Could he ever commit to something more than living together?

She reminded herself again not to be so pessimistic. Marc just happened to be a very private man. He shared himself with her in amazing ways, becoming more creative the better they got to know each other. Hard to believe they were living together already having only met in September, well not counting that time she had no memory of in August.

Maybe they’d just moved too quickly. She yawned, and her eyelids drooped. She’d give him time…

“Mamma, no!”

Angelina jolted awake and turned to find Marc lying on his stomach, punching at the pillow underneath his head.

“Scusami! Scusami!”

“Marc, wake up! You’re dreaming.”

Her words had no effect. His face turned toward her, perspiration plastering his hair to his forehead. The light from the bathroom showed the torment on his face.

Marc had always been plagued by nightmares but had never called out to anyone in Italian before. Other nights, she’d always thought he was remembering combat duty in Iraq. He’d taught her soon after she moved in here never to touch him while he slept without announcing herself, but his continued thrashing told her he wasn’t hearing her.

Without warning, he rolled toward her and onto his back. His swinging arm sucker punched her. Regaining her breath after a moment, she straddled his waist, her sore butt burning against his skin as he tried to buck her off.

She grabbed his wrists to hold him down. “Marc! Wake up! You’re scaring me!”

His brows scrunched in confusion. Had he heard her now? His eyelids fluttered open, and he stopped struggling. He’d come out of it. Thank God.

“You had a nightmare.”

He reached up to brush the hair from her face. “Are you okay, cara?”

“I’m fine, but you scared the crap out of me. What was that all about?”

His face grew puzzled. “Strangest dream. A woman I called mamma who wasn’t Mama. And Gino and I were in combat but on opposing sides. Then there was a wolf.”

She grinned at him. “No more leftover lasagna before bedtime.” She bent to place a kiss on his cheek before stretching out beside him. She needed to comfort him rather than go back to sleep, as if she could sleep now anyway.

He stroked her belly, and she winced when he touched where he’d punched her.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Angelina stroked his chest, fingers running through the sprinkling of hair. “I’m fine, Marc. You scared me more than anything. I’ve never heard you talk in your sleep before. Or scream like that.”

“What did I say?”

“Mostly yelling at your mama not to leave you. You said you had a different mama in the dream?”

He nodded before shrugging. “Maybe not. She looked a bit like Mama, only…younger than I can remember her.”

She felt his heartbeat returning to normal under her hand. “Oh, and you kept saying you were sorry about something.”

He stopped breathing. “Did I say who I was speaking to?”

“No. Do you remember from the dream?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t remember much of anything now.” He turned on his side and pulled her against him. “Sorry I woke you, cara. Let’s go back to sleep.”

A kiss on her shoulder blade sent a thrill down her spine. Did he really want to sleep—or was he finally going to make love to her the way she’d hoped he would after her shower?

The way his arm grew heavier gave her the answer. Soon his breathing was slow and even.

At least one of them could sleep. Visions of a wolf now invaded her thoughts—specifically, the wolf mask Marc wore the night he rescued her at the club. She hadn’t told him what she’d done to it yet. He hadn’t replaced it, thank goodness.

Maybe Marc’s days of wearing a mask were over. Dio, she hoped so. Slowly over the months he’d given her more and more tiny glimpses into his soul while still keeping so much to himself. The man was more private than anyone she’d ever met.

What secrets does that mind of yours hold back from me, Sir?

Chapter One
Angelina’s heart fluttered wildly as she got out of Marc’s Porsche. She stared up at the imposing resort lodge while Marc gave the keys to the valet. So far out of her league. What if they didn’t like her?

“Breathe, cara,” Marc whispered, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her against his side.

She gained courage from his touch but couldn’t remain plastered to him all weekend. With a smile, she glanced up at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“They’re going to love you, amore. Stop worrying.”

Easy for him to say when he belonged here. He’d grown up in this place; she was the interloper. What if his family thought she’d just latched onto Marc for his money? Or worse, that she was a kinky deviant? After all, they already knew about his predilection to kink, from what Marc had told her.

Had he told his mama where he’d met Angelina? Her heart thudded to a momentary halt. They weren’t going to like her. Not one bit.

“Here they come.”

She spotted a doorman approaching before noticing Marc’s gaze was focused on the driveway where Savi Baker’s car was pulling up, driven by Damián. Reinforcements. They could help convince his family she was a nice, normal, loving person.

Of course, as the Masters at Arms Club’s sadist Service Top, Damián might not be the best one to vouch for normal. She smiled, remembering the first time she’d seen Damián at the club that disastrous night Allen Martin had taken Angelina there to introduce her to his twisted brand of BDSM. Now she understood Allen’s actions were nothing short of abuse. When she shuddered, Marc drew her even closer. She’d been forbidden to think about Allen again, so she’d let him believe she was just chilled by the mountain air.

Luckily, their friends provided an excellent distraction. With a wave, Damián handed his keys to the valet and immediately moved to the open trunk to remove his family’s luggage before the bellman came back with a cart.

Marc cleared his throat. “Damián, why don’t we all get checked into our rooms and meet down here again in about two hours?” He squeezed Angelina’s hand and grinned at her before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “That should give us time to relieve some of your tension, amore.”

Angelina’s clit sparked to life as heat infused her face, and her body began anticipating his offer of some much-needed release during those two hours. At the thought of being turned over his knee for an erotic spanking, she relaxed a little and grinned. She’d come to love those for…stress relief. Just what she needed—provided her screams didn’t bring any family members running to the rescue.

She turned and watched Savi brush Marisol’s bangs away from her eyes. What a beautiful little girl. Savi turned her gaze toward Angelina and Marc. “Perfect. Mari’s been so wound up about this trip; she could use a little rest before we take to the slopes or whatever it is you all want to do.” She looked at Damián, who only nodded. Skiing wasn’t an option for him, but the proud new papa insisted that Marisol take a lesson or two from Marc on the bunny slope.

Twenty minutes later, they were upstairs in their suite. Angelina released a huge sigh. Everyone in the lobby had seemed to be watching her. Uncertain which were Marc’s family members, if any, and which were hotel staff or resort guests, she’d felt even more lost. Apparently, the family hadn’t been alerted about their time of arrival. Odd, but it wasn’t as if they had shown up unannounced at Mama’s little house in Aspen Corners. The Bella Montagna resort was huge, opulent even by Aspen standards. They could probably hide out on the grounds for a week without being found.

Wishing such a thing was useless, though. Sooner or later, she’d have to face his family. Dinner tonight, Marc had said.


Angelina looked up at Marc, furrowing her eyebrows. “Enough what?”

“Enough worrying. They are going to love you as much as I do, cara. This tug-of-war in your head has to end. Now.”


“The only butt I want right now is yours over my knee. Strip.”

Her heart thudded, and her coat puddled at her feet. “Yes, Sir.”

She pulled the heavy sweater over her head, hearing the static crackling through her hair. He’d insisted she go braless this morning—and he’d copped a few feels on the drive to Aspen. In seconds, she was half naked. His gaze lowered to her breasts, and her nipples puckered.

Marc reached out to touch one. The buildup of static electricity discharged, causing her to inhale sharply and jerk away from the pain. He laughed. “We’ll have to explore the violet wand in the playroom or club sometime.”

While not on her list of hard limits, she’d never liked the idea of Marc using kinky electricity on her body. If that tiny spark had hurt so much, imagine what it would feel like with heavier currents coursing through her!

Angelina shuddered, reaching for her pleated skirt’s waistband before he stayed her hand. “Leave the skirt. Lose the tights.”

Her pussy muscles tightened. Mio Dio. At the thought of his hand on her bare butt, her breathing became rapid and shallow. She needed this badly after stressing since Christmas over meeting his family. Well, she’d stressed about it long before Christmas.

Reaching beneath her skirt, she snagged the waistband of her black tights with her thumbs and quickly shimmied them over her butt to her knees. She plunked down on the four-poster bed to remove her shoes and take the tights the rest of the way off. She wore no panties, another of Marc’s commands this morning cluing her in that he intended to play at some point today. But on cold days like this one, he allowed her to wear tights if they’d be outside.

He always seemed to know how uncomfortable and unsteady she was in fuck-me stiletto heels, though, and never asked her to wear them. A very considerate Dom.

When she dropped the tights onto the floor, his gaze roamed over her bare breasts and legs, heating her.

“Stand and present yourself.”

Angelina stood, cast her gaze to the floor in front of her, and planted her feet slightly more than shoulder-width apart. She grasped her elbows behind her back, causing her breasts to jut out. Marc’s warm hands cupped them, and he pinched her nipples until she hissed.

“I love your tits.”

So I’ve noticed. “Thank you, Sir.”

Marc lowered his mouth to one, taking the nipple between his teeth and tugging until she nearly lost her footing. He straightened and sighed, as if he, too, regretted not having time to continue his exploration. Walking over to his toy bag, he pulled out one of his paddles. She almost took an involuntary step back. The paddle? Why? She hadn’t been bad.

Marc sat down on the edge of the mattress and laid the wooden paddle beside him. The turquoise-colored duvet enhanced the mirror image of the word “M-I-N-E.” That word would soon be imprinted on her butt. She hated the sting of that paddle. Damn Luke for making it. But she couldn’t put all of the blame on him; Angelina had chosen to present the gift to her Sir on Christmas night. She could have withheld it, but the sentiment seemed sweet at the time. Someday she would get her revenge on dear, sweet Luke.

“Kneel.” He tossed a pillow from the bed down in front of him, between his feet.

She was permitted to use her hands to get into a new position, so she released her elbows and eased herself down onto the pillow. Once steady, she clasped her hands behind her back again.

“Remove my shoes and take care of your clothing.” She reached out to untie and slip off the Guccis he rarely wore, setting them aside. Then she neatly folded her coat and sweater and placed them on the chair before resuming her position. Marc was particular about not leaving things lying around.

After reminding her of their safeword, as if she’d need it for one of his spankings, he said, “You need to take your mind off dinner tonight. Please me with your mouth.”

Releasing her elbows again, she eased down the zipper of his black Armani pants and pulled out his penis. She’d never grow tired of the sight of him, large and stiff for her.

Leaning back on his elbows, he grinned down at her. “No hands.”

Angelina scooted closer to better control the depth at which he could penetrate her mouth. No point letting her gag reflex steal the scene. As if licking a melting ice-cream cone, she let the tip of her tongue trace the engorged vein along the length of him before returning to the head. His hiss and the bobbing of his penis told her she’d pleased him. Maybe he was a little tense about this visit, too, and needed this session as much as she did.

Banishing from her mind all thoughts of meeting his family, Angelina leaned forward as far as she could and wrapped her lips around the head of his penis. Her mouth pulled him toward her as she sucked him deeper. At this angle, it would be difficult to bring him as deeply down her throat as she’d like, so she concentrated on flicking her tongue around the rim and paying special attention to the sensitive notch on the underside. His cock bobbed again, and she tasted his salty pre-cum. She grew wet thinking about having him inside her. Soon, she hoped.

“Your mouth is so hot, amore.”

Emboldened by his words, she sucked him harder, and he hissed again, pumping his hips up until the tip of his penis hit the roof of her mouth. She loved pleasing her Dom this way.

Suddenly, he placed his hands on either side of her face and moved her off of him. Puzzled, she blinked and looked up.

“I don’t want to come in your mouth or on your face. We don’t have a lot of time to clean up before you meet my family.”

The man’s ability to postpone coming was much stronger than hers. She hoped they’d have time for her to reach orgasm.

“Stand, pet.”

She maneuvered herself to her feet and took a step back before resuming her presentation stance, unsure what he wanted her to do next.

Marc stood as well, kicking away the pillow and unbuckling his belt. He released the button and dropped his hands to his sides.

“Remove my pants.”

Unclasping her hands, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his pants and lowered them, taking his boxer briefs in the same motion. His penis bobbed out, fierce and erect, surrounded by tufts of dark curly hair. Impulsively, she placed a kiss on the tip as she continued to remove his pants.

“You did not have permission to do that, pet.”

“Sorry, Sir.” Not really.

Marc sat down so she could shuck the pant legs the rest of the way off. She fought the urge to straddle him, because they were being formal now. Living with him these last few months, she’d learned a lot about discipline. He’d trained her to do as she was told during a scene, not to allow her impulses to get the better of her and not to clutter her mind with thoughts that pulled her out of the scene. Otherwise, there would be consequences. She glanced at the paddle again. Sometimes, though, she couldn’t help letting her inner brat out to play.

“Across my lap. Now.”

Angelina swallowed hard as she lay across his lap, his penis poking into her stomach. Her body was evenly distributed on either side of his thighs, hair hanging loose and curtaining her face. She grew wet anticipating the sting of his hand on her butt. He always started with his hand.

“Hands flat on the floor.”

Shit. She didn’t like that position, because it left her with very little control—so open and vulnerable. However, she did as he ordered. His penis now pressed against her pubic bone, and each swat of his hand would send a jolt to him, as well.

He lifted her short skirt and his warm hand caressed her butt. She squirmed when his fingers traced a path from her crack to the swollen folds of her pussy. “So damned wet for me, pet. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Sir, for making me wet.” Her voice sounded breathless to her ears. Hurry, Sir. I need this!

His finger slid into her opening, and she squeezed him in welcome. They hadn’t made love this morning, and she wanted him inside her so badly. However, it wouldn’t happen for a while at least. Perhaps not for hours—even days. Sometimes he preferred to leave her on edge for long periods before he gave her the relief she craved desperately. As he removed his finger, she hoped he’d touch her clit and give her release.


Not expecting the spanking to start so suddenly, her breath hitched in surprise.


His hand came down on her other cheek equally as hard, and she squeezed her butt cheeks together. Several more swats rained down on her in quick succession, and she held her breath as the familiar warmth spread over her bottom.

“Open wider for me, pet.”

Oh, no. She hated when he struck directly on her pussy or clit. Knowing it would only be worse if she didn’t respond quickly, she angled her left leg toward his knee, exposing herself to him fully. He must want to send her straight into subspace.


“Ow, mio Dio!” His hand struck directly on her clit, and she jerked, trying to avoid the next blow. Swat! No such luck. Tears ran down her nose. The release of tension as he continued to spank her left her sobbing; then the familiar euphoria sent her floating.



The paddle landed on her left cheek and surprised her, stinging her sore skin and bringing her back to the present with a vengeance. How long had she zoned out?


The pain burning in her butt from the impact of the solid wood caused her to clench her cheeks together, making the fire burn even hotter. New tears flowed.

Cool air blew over her burning butt; Marc had finished with the spanking. His breath only caused gooseflesh to break out, increasing her pain. He knew it, too, damn him. She jumped as the cold ointment he applied after spankings made contact with her sore ass, but it soon eased the sting away. His hand stroked her back in a soothing manner as he waited for the ointment to dry. She hiccupped.

“Shhh, pet.” Marc helped her up, and she melted against him as he sat her on his lap and enfolded her in his arms. Her butt stung worse with the friction against his legs, but she needed to be held. He stroked her hair, and she laid her head against his shoulder, accepting his gentle ministrations.

“You’re mine, pet.”


“Always, Sir.”

A peaceful calm came over her; her eyes drifted shut, and she relaxed…

“Time to wake up, amore.”

Angelina blinked awake and found herself still in Marc’s arms. “I’m sorry, Sir.” She tried to sit upright and felt the sting in her butt. His hand held her tightly in place.

“Talk to me. How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Extremely relaxed.”

“Good girl.”

“Just one problem.”

He grew tense. “What’s that?”

“How am I supposed to sit down through dinner tonight? You really walloped me.”

“Brat. You know you loved every stroke.”

“Yes, Sir. I did. Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You’re the one to thank. I can’t imagine what my life would be without you. You have given me something I didn’t even know was missing.”

“What’s that?”

He thought for several moments before shrugging. Would he elaborate or was she digging too deeply? “A need to…be needed, I guess you could say. You need me. I like that.”

Angelina, needy? Hardly. She’d fought too long to gain independence from her big brothers only to let this man steal her heart away. Ready to argue the point, she opened her mouth.

“But it’s mutual, Angelina.” He leaned back and gazed into her eyes. “You also take excellent care of my needs, cara. You fill a void in my soul.”

His acknowledgement of her need to nurture, one of her best traits in her opinion, reminded her why this complex, sometimes infuriating man was worth loving. One day she hoped to see beyond the mask he wore to protect himself—or to hide whatever he didn’t want to face.

Marc controlled and kept his emotions hidden most times. So private. Every now and then she’d catch a glimpse of yearning coming from him, a look telling her something remained locked inside. Often, those times came after a restless night with him where he was tormented by something from the past that he never could name upon waking. Maybe someday she’d help him identify and release that pain, just as he’d helped her find release from so many hurts in her life.

Angelina couldn’t understand how he could have grown up male in a big Italian family without feeling he had the world on a platter. She reminded herself that his family was very different from hers, though.

Thoughts of meeting his family tonight sent another flurry of “what ifs” rampaging through her mind. What if she couldn’t impress them and…

“Why did you tense up again just now?”

Shit. She really could have no secrets from him. He read her body like a book. “I’m sorry, Sir. I let my mind wander where it shouldn’t.”

Marc sighed, stroking her cheek. “Mio angelo, please stop worrying. My family will love you.”

“Yes, Sir.” But she still had a niggling feeling of doom. If they didn’t accept her, she could lose Marc. So much was riding on this meeting with his family.

She couldn’t wait for this dreaded dinner to be over.

* * *

“Marco! Marco D’Alessio!”

In the lobby of the condo building that adjoined the resort, Angelina turned. A curvaceous Italian woman approached, long black hair fluttering loose over her shoulders, and her enormous boobs arriving a half-second before the rest of her. Something in the way she devoured Marc with her eyes raised Angelina’s hackles. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, but her eyes were empty, cold, and calculating when she cast a disdainful glance Angelina’s way.

Marc tensed as well, causing Angelina to shift her focus to him. His nostrils flared as he narrowed his gaze. Angelina curled her fingers around Marc’s elbow before realizing she was being territorial. Not to mention more than a bit insecure.

Oh, as if that’s something new.

Angelina glanced back at the woman and caught another cold glare aimed at her.


The word popped into Angelina’s head, surprisingly accurate.

“Melissa. How are you?” Marc’s cold response and stiff posture told Angelina all she needed to know. He didn’t like her, whatever their history might have been. Plus, the perfect globes protruding from the woman’s chest had to be silicone.

Okay, now who’s being the bitch?

Angelina plastered a smile on her face and squeezed Marc’s elbow. As if suddenly remembering her presence, he stared down at her but didn’t smile as he made the introductions.

“Angelina Giardano, meet Melissa Russo. She was Gino’s fiancée.”

Gino’s? With the emotion sizzling between these two, something more than an engagement to his dead brother lingered between them. But did she really want to know about the women in Marc’s past?


No! As long as they remained old flames and in the past tense, she didn’t need to know.

When the woman tried to kiss Marc, he turned his face away, and her red-slathered lips branded his cheek. Angelina released his arm—uncertain whether she was trying to put distance between herself and them or to deck this brazen bitch making a move on her man. But Marc wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer.


Angelina relaxed.

“If you’ll excuse us, Melissa, we have dinner plans.”

Ignoring Marc, Melissa glared at Angelina again before adding, “Mama asked me to join the family for dinner tonight to welcome you home.”

Marc’s arm jerked reflexively against her back before he relaxed it again. Angelina wished the floor would just open up now and swallow her whole if she was going to have to sit through this meet-the-parents meal from hell with not only Marc’s intimidating family but a woman who might be an old flame, too.

Ever polite, Marc held his arm out to indicate that Melissa should precede them across the lobby. Angelina got the full impact of Melissa’s perfectly shaped ass and fuck-me stilettos as the woman undulated toward the elevator alcove. Melissa didn’t wobble at all on the heels; Angelina would have fallen flat on her face.

Brass-encased, filigreed mirrors on three walls of the alcove made it impossible to look anywhere without seeing Melissa’s absolutely stunning body. Tearing her gaze away from the woman’s perfection, Angelina looked up at the floor numbers above the elevator doors, watching as one of two cars made its way slowly to the first floor.

She wished she’d gone with Damián and Savi to dinner at the lodge, not wanting to be here. The red floor numbers blurred, and she blinked away tears of frustration and trepidation. When the bell dinged and the door opened, Melissa walked into the elevator with her head held high, as if she owned the place. She turned and pushed the button for the floor she obviously knew by heart, giving Angelina a smug look that clearly stated, “I belong here. You don’t.”

When Angelina would have followed her into the elevator, Marc’s arm around her waist held her back. Puzzled, she looked up at him as he grinned at Melissa. Angelina followed his gaze.

“Tell my mother we’ve been detained a bit, but we’ll be there shortly.”

The doors began to close on a glaring Melissa, who realized too late she’d been outmaneuvered. Angelina smiled back at her as the doors closed.

“Come, cara. We need to talk.”

Oh, Dio. Her triumphant joy was short-lived. Would he tell her what this woman meant to him?

Leading her back toward the lobby, he guided her into a secluded corner where burgundy velvet covered an expensive-looking empire sofa set between two matching wingback chairs. The furniture surrounded an inlaid mahogany coffee table. The Aspen cityscape shimmered beyond the windows. Marc turned her toward him. Seeing Melissa’s lipstick still marred his cheek, she quickly reached down to pluck a couple of tissues from the box on the coffee table before wiping that woman’s mark off her man’s face.

Memories of the marks he’d placed on her ass from her earlier spanking made her smile.


Her smile softened the muscles in Marc’s jaw, which had been hard as steel under her ministrations. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “What questions are scurrying through that busy mind of yours, cara?” Angelina looked down, but his hand on her chin forced her to return her gaze to his face. “Ask me what you want to know, and I will answer your questions.”

“Who…” Angelina cleared the frog in her throat and started again. Over the past few months, Marc had insisted she tell him truthfully whatever was on her mind. He’d be forthcoming with her as long as she asked the right questions. She’d never needed to ask the right questions more than now.

“Who is she? What does she mean to you?” Did. She meant did, not does.

Dio, please don’t let the woman mean anything to him anymore.

Marc’s warm fingers brushed a stray hair off her forehead. “She’s nothing to me now.” He glanced away, making her nervous. “But there was a time I almost proposed to her.”

Mio Dio. Angelina didn’t want to know that he was attracted to someone that perfect. That beautiful. Angelina could never have a body like that without serious reconstruction. She wouldn’t do that for any man. Not even Marc.

Marc grabbed her upper arms as she struggled in vain to pull away.

“The operative word, cara, is was. I found her in bed with Gino the day I planned to propose.”

She searched Marc’s gaze. More relief than regret showed, so she let herself relax a little more. “Did you love her?”

He grinned and shrugged. “I was young and horny and mistook that for love. In these past few months, by exhibiting real love you’ve shown me how stupid I was back then. Let’s just say I was a young man unable to get beyond the woman’s surgically enhanced body to see the phony person inside.” A glint of mischief shone in his eyes. “Besides, you know I prefer yours to plastic ones.”

He reached up, and Angelina looked toward the hallway as she hissed, “Don’t you dare!”

Marc ignored her embarrassment and tweaked her nipple sending heat pooling to her core. “Marc…”

He lowered his face to hers and captured her lips in a searing kiss that only left her wanting more. His teeth pulled at her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Their tongues tangled before she broke away, drawing ragged breaths.

He’d already left her on the edge of an orgasm once today. If she made it through this dinner without yanking him into the bathroom for a quickie, it would be a miracle. She could just imagine how swollen and well-kissed her mouth must look now. She hoped it was obvious to Melissa when they got upstairs.


“Bella, I love everything about your body, because it’s real, not the result of multiple surgeries. But most importantly, I love who you are on the inside. You’re nurturing and kind, incredibly sexy in and out of the bedroom, and cook like a goddess—everything a man could want. Everything this man wants.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek and took her hand. “Now, be prepared for Melissa to say things that will upset you, but please don’t take her word for anything. She’s never been particularly honest. If you have questions, our signal will be that you will touch the necklace you’re wearing. When I see that, I’ll know to find us a quiet place to talk before you let that fertile imagination of yours go hurtling off a cliff.”

Marc understood her insecurities so well and always tried to allay her fears. She wished she could keep her mind from automatically discounting herself, because she saw only acceptance, encouragement, and love in his eyes.

“Thank you, Marc. I needed that—and I’ll try not to yank you away from the dinner table more than once every fifteen minutes or so.” She grinned.

His pupils dilated, as if he was thinking along the lines of having that quickie she’d been fantasizing about a few minutes ago.

“We’ll get away as early as we can, amore. I believe there’s the unfinished business of one beautiful woman’s orgasm that needs to be taken care of.”

Her clit pulsed as he bent to nibble the side of her neck. Mio Dio, how was she ever supposed to sit through dinner when all she wanted to do was sit astride Marc’s lap and let him fill her completely as they both rode toward a satisfying climax?

Marc broke away, breathing a little harder himself. “We’d better go before Mama thinks I’ve tied you to the bed and am having my way with you.”

“Marc! You don’t think she knows…well, how we met, do you? I mean, that I…we…like to…you know…” Angelina looked around and whispered, “…do bondage and stuff.”

Marc laughed long and hard as he took her hand and steered her back toward the elevator. “I think my mama assumes anyone I’m with is into that after my little brother told her about an…incident I was involved in here at Bella Montagna in my younger days.”

Angelina wondered what type of incident, but he averted his gaze, giving the impression it was better not to ask. Heat crept into Angelina’s cheeks as perspiration broke out on her forehead thinking about the implications for her. Oh, mio Dio. She really wasn’t going to be able to look his mother in the eye now.

Maybe there would be a supply of good wine to ease her discomfort.


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