DANGEROUS SURRENDER by Tory Richards

DANGEROUS SURRENDER by Tory Richards

Would you give yourself to a stranger? Gwendolyn Myers never thought about it until she runs into Marcus 'Bowie' Ford at the Pink Pussy. A run-down hotel at the edge of town. She's on the run, but one taste of the sexy biker convinces Gwen that her running days might be over!

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Excerpt:

"Is there a restaurant or bar around here where I can get something to eat and drink?" I inquired while he was counting out the change. I was exhausted, but I was also starving and hadn't eaten since early that morning. I glanced around the office until I found a clock. It was just after nine.

"There's the Red Rooster across the street. It’s a bar but they serve up sandwiches and burgers. They stay open until two."

Great, I could walk over and get a sandwich. I held my hand out for the change.

"Not your kind of bar."

The gravelly voice came from the sexy biker behind me, and forced me to turn around and acknowledge him. I had to look a long way up to meet the intensity of his eyes, which were dark and compelling. God damn! The man had trouble written all over him, and a little spark of fear uncurled deep inside my belly warning me to be cautious at how I responded. "Excuse me?" How did he know what kind of bar was my kind of bar?

He crossed his arms over his massive chest. Not an ounce of emotion on his hard, rugged face. "The place caters to the rough crowd."

His deep and sensual voice sent a ripple of awareness through me that I couldn’t deny. I don't know where I managed to dredge up a tiny smile, my token thank you for the warning. "I can take care of myself." My inner voice scoffed and said, yeah, since when?

The biker tilted his head and gave me the slowest up and down look that I'd ever received. His visual caress, when he lingered on my lady parts, cranked my libido up to an uncomfortable heat level. I raised my chin, knowing that it wouldn't add any height to my five feet seven inch frame. Jesus, everything about this stranger was making me hot. I wanted to groan when I felt my nipples harden right beneath his intense stare. The slightest quirk of his mouth told me that he'd noticed.

His brown gaze gradually continued up my throat, to my face. When I saw his eyes narrow I knew he was noticing the fading bruise on my cheek, which makeup had covered earlier. Was it my imagination that his mouth tightened? Then his eyes locked onto mine.

"Right," he said.

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DARK DESIRE by Shannan Albright

DARK DESIRE by Shannan Albright

Dark Breed Enforcers Book 4

A destiny he can no longer deny - Being heir to the throne of Atlantis is not all it’s cracked up to be. Especially living under a world-altering prophecy he is powerless to prevent. Ze’Kerhia, simply known as Zeke, must now return to a life he walked away from in order to save a friend. Forced into a marriage to a woman he never met.

A brutal betrayal - One look at Laris Raail and Zeke knows he’s in trouble. He is captivated by her stunning dark beauty and grace and completely unprepared to find a dagger buried deep in his heart by the hand of his new bride.

A deadly plot revealed - After seven long months of searching, Zeke finds Laris. He's unprepared to find his wife has no memory of her past or even her name. Caught in a plot so treacherous the dark breeds and humans alike may be unable to prevent the war it would spark. It’s up to the two of them to reveal the traitor in their midst.

Can they survive long enough to prevent the slaughter of innocent lives? Or will they perish before revealing who is behind a plot to enslave the world?

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Excerpt:

He barked out a harsh laugh, his words laced with venom as his lip curled into a sneer. “There is no such thing as a peaceful Lemurian. You are all killers. It’s in your nature to war and take what you want by force. Leaving nothing but devastation and ruin in your wake.”

She really didn’t know what to say to that one. His hate chilled her skin, the air so thick with his animosity she could barely pull in enough air into her lungs. The room closed in on her making her head swim. She needed to get away from this madman who just told her he had every intention of killing her.

“I’m just a damned stripper.” Her voice shook with fear and desperation. “Please let me go. I won’t call the cops. Just let me go … please.” The words didn’t come easy to her, nor did the fear she felt coursing through her like icy sludge threatening to immobilize her.

“Save it.” He bit out, his face as hard and implacable as stone. “You just don’t get it, do you? Nothing you say will make a damn bit of difference. Your ass is mine, and I alone will decide how long you live and how much pain you exist in. Face it. You’re screwed, so save your breath.”

His movements blurred as he once again closed the space between them and gripped her arm, tugging her through the living room and down a hallway, and past several closed doors along the way. He opened the last one on the right, shoving her into bedroom. Nothing but a bed, white walls and old battered dresser adorned the room. An old brass pot stood near a wall, but it was the chains attached to thick metal manacles bolted to the wall that made her heart stutter within her chest. Her throat dried up as terror on a level she never knew existed took hold of her with unrelenting force.

A scream bubbled out of her throat as he shoved her back against the chains. She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed, kicking and clawing at his unprotected face and throat, but he proved too quick and jerked away from her in time. Her nails only caught air.

He snatched one wrist, attaching the cuff, then the other, effectively subduing her arms. Her foot slashed out, but again he maneuvered out of harm’s way by simply stepping back. She struggled to break the manacles, the chains only giving her a few precious inches of freedom.

“Let. Me. Go.” She snarled the demand feeling anger rise deep inside, burning away the paralyzing fear from only moments before.

“I don’t think so. You can scream all you want. This room is soundproof.” He shook his head and walked to the door.

“Wait, what am I supposed to do if I have to go to the bathroom? You can’t just leave me like this.” She spat the words out, the taste of bitterness sharp on her tongue.

His gaze moved to the pot near her feet. “I’m sure you will find some creative way to relieve yourself. Not my problem.”

She shrieked, hurtling curse words at his retreating back and continuing long after he closed the door after him.

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GAMES GIRLS PLAY by BA Tortuga

GAMES GIRLS PLAY by BA Tortuga 

Hands-on assassin Rose has the best job in the world and no issue at all with taking out the bad guys. In fact, the only problem Rose has in her life is the game of sexy one-upmanship she’s playing with her biggest competition, Jane.

Jane is a sniper who likes to do her job from a distance, but no matter who manages to do the job first, the ladies get together afterward to argue over who gets the fee, and have hot make-up sex at the same time.

When Rose is burned by the family of one of her marks, though, the game changes. When Jane’s handler tells her she gets the honor of taking Rose out, Jane knows she can’t just kill her best girl. Jane must rescue Rose in time to keep both of them alive, or their lust-filled contest will end with a very final bang.

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An Excerpt From: GAMES GIRLS PLAY

Copyright © BA TORTUGA, 2014

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Jane sat in the corner booth, on the right side, which was easiest to get out of and slip into the back room, should she need to make an escape. It was entirely possible Miss Rose would decide she was tired of playing and take Jane’s happy ass out this time. Unlikely, but possible. She’d ordered a plate of Irish nachos, and she had a Guinness and an appletini on the table in front of her.

She was waiting for Rose, pretty sure the stacked little redhead would show up. The last time they’d played this game had been less than successful, but Jane missed Rose, missed the quick wit, the sweet curves, the sound of needy moans.

Jane smiled to herself, thighs rubbing together as the thought of her favorite on-again, off-again made her ache. Rose had been pissed off enough that Jane imagined you could smell the smoke coming out of her ears. She’d timed that shot perfectly, damn it, and she’d managed it from a hell of a distance. Honestly, you’d think after working as long as they had that Rose would have learned not to get so emotionally involved in her marks.

Sometimes Jane had to just keep things from getting too personal.

“What the fuck are you about?” The rainbow-colored purse hit the table first, then Rose’s fine, fine ass hit the seat across from her, right on the edge.

“Is that an existential question?” Jane chuckled, sliding the appletini across the table. “Drink?”

Nice long fuck?

“That job was mine.” The palest blue eyes on earth snapped and crackled, and Jane could smell Rose’s soap—sandalwood and roses.

Yum. She wanted to wallow in the scent, get it all over the hotel sheets. “You were taking too long.” Jane shrugged, casual as all get out.

“Taking too long? I was trying to make sure the thirty assholes in the other room didn’t crash in.”

“Uh-huh. Have I mentioned that you make a shitty Mexican?” Jane asked. “Your skin is all wrong.”

“I’m going to hurt you.”

Oh, Rose might try, but there were things they did better together. Like fuck. “Have a drink with me first.”

Rose picked up the martini glass and sipped, smiling around the rim. Miss Rose did love a tart drink, the girlier, the better. They were a study in contrasts, she and Rose. Jane liked the earthy sourness of stout, the mouth-feel of a good steak. Rose liked vegetarian pasta. She was a hard-assed dyke, through and through, pure military, from her short hair to her ripped abs. Rose, though, she was all passion, all girl. They said opposites attracted, after all.

They didn’t chat. What did they have to say, really? Jane’s bank account was happier by a half-million dollars; Rose was going to make her pay for that in flesh. She shivered, her nipples going hard. God, she’d missed her girl.

Rose stared at her, pale-blue eyes blazing. “I should put an ice pick in your ear.”

“You have an ice pick? Here?” Fucking A. How cool was that? “You know I always pay my debts, honey. Get over it.” Jane pushed it.

“Fuck off, you bat.” Rose stuck her tongue out, and the sudden playfulness was incredibly, oddly erotic.

Jane wanted to suck on that tongue and taste the apple.

This was absolutely not the time or place for that, so she went for needling. “Why are you dressed like a hippie?”

“Because I make a shitty Mexican.” Rose reached for the bar menu. “Did you order food?”

“Irish nachos for my Fair Isle girl.”

“Yours?”

“Always.” Eternally. No matter how they fought it.

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RUNNING SCARED by Anne Kane

RUNNING SCARED by Anne Kane

Mercenaries Series 2

She was a genetic experiment that was never supposed to get out of the lab. If the government finds her they will kill her without hesitation. Her memories of her early life are sketchy but the one clear image she has is of a brother who saved her life, and then disappeared.

Jackson knows what it's like to lose your entire family in one bloody instant, and he vows to help Saralyn find hers. It doesn't hurt that he finds her irresistibly sexy or that the attraction is mutual. They enlist the rest of the mercenary team in a search operation that takes them into the heart of the corrupt government.

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Running Scared (Mercenaries)
Anne Kane
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Anne Kane

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

Saralyn ran her hands over the computer's input screen, sorting through the mess of icons with a speed that she knew suggested more than a passing acquaintance with technology.

There! She pulled the icon forward, tapping it gently to open its secrets. Closing her eyes, she splayed her fingers across the screen and let the information flow through the tips of her fingers, gigabytes of info flashing along the web of her nervous system to the storage cells in her brain. Later, she'd sort through the files and isolate the information she needed. Right now she just wanted to get out of here before...

"Looking for something?"

Damn! The overhead lights snapped on, and Saralyn turned to see the man they called Jackson lounging against the doorframe. Bad timing. Five more minutes and she would have been home free. One thing she'd learned at an early age was to hide her differences. Survival depended on blending into the crowd, not letting anyone know just how different she was. Just how much had he seen?

She plastered an innocent smile on her face. "Not really. Just couldn't sleep so I thought I'd see if I could find a game to play." She gestured at the bank of computers behind her. "I looked, but I can't find the game files. Maybe you can show me where they are?"

Jackson lifted one brow, a glimmer of humor shining in the depths of his dark eyes. He had nice eyes. Dark. Dreamy. Right now they seemed to see right through her, and she had to force herself not to squirm. Unfortunately that combination of bedroom eyes and the physique of a Greek god was making it hard for her to think.

Jackson pushed himself upright and sauntered into the room. "That's Trace's computer you were fondling, and frankly, I don't think Trace has ever played a game in his life. But you already knew that. I heard rumors about the government experiments, but I thought they terminated all of you years ago. How come you're still alive?"

My goodness, he was tall! Of course at five feet nothing, she was used to looking up at people. It didn't help that she was finding it harder to concentrate with every step he took toward her. She took a deep breath. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I've lived on the streets as long as I can remember. All the government has ever done for me is chase me away and make it hard to stay alive. And I was not fondling the computer!" At least not much. He obviously had an overactive imagination. "And how would I know anything about Trace's preferences? I thought all you geeky type guys were gamers. I've barely been here a week, and I'm still trying to sort you all out. Which one is Trace?"

He stopped right beside her, forcing her to tilt her neck backward to look up into his eyes. "Trace is our resident bloodhound. Tall, shaggy black hair, resembles a grouchy bear most days? Ring a bell? Set him onto something or someone and he'll follow the faintest of leads until he finally tracks them down. He can pull more info out of those computer banks than a buzzard pulls out of the garbage slews. I'm glad he's on our side, because he's one scary dude. I wonder what he'd find out if I sicced him onto you."

Saralyn did a mental tally of the men on Kaeden's team of mercenaries. Yes, she knew which one was Trace. That description was amazingly accurate. Then again, all of them were scary dudes, although she'd never admit that to them.

Living on the run all these years had taught her that any sign of weakness would bring the predators swarming in for the kill. She highly doubted he would find anything of interest on her, though. Her life, for as long as she could remember, had consisted of an ongoing struggle to stay alive and find enough to eat. It was the second part of the statement that intrigued her. "So this Trace can find stuff? Or people?"

Jackson nodded, his eyes narrowing. "If anyone can find it, Trace can. Why? There something in particular you need to find?"

Saralyn opened her mouth, and was amazed to find herself telling the truth. Trust was a foreign concept and if a person knew what was important to her, they could use it against her...

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