Showing posts with label Interracial IR Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Interracial IR Romance. Show all posts

Thursday, August 21, 2014

UP IN FLAMES by Tory Richards

UP IN FLAMES by Tory Richards

Rachel Masters has had a crush on her sexy boss for three years. As far as she knows the millionaire architect is oblivious to her, walking past her desk every morning with barely a nod in her direction. But when the power goes out and they're trapped in an elevator, the truth comes out in one steamy episode designed to take Rachel's mind off being claustrophobic.

James White doesn't have a crush on his receptionist. He wants her, it's as simple as that. He senses there's a real beauty hidden beneath the granny glasses and professional suits. And he plans to find out how hot she is as soon as the chance presents itself.

Excerpt:

“How bad do you have it?”

His breath was warm against her face. Rachel swallowed. “I can overcome it most of the time, if I think of something else. But knowing that I can’t get out right this minute is the problem. I can’t breathe.”

“Yes you can. Just breathe in deep through your nose and release it slowly through your mouth.” He pulled the glasses off her face and tossed them away. “You’re tense. Try to relax.” His strong hands began to massage Rachel’s shoulders.

She closed her eyes and tried to do what he suggested, then shook her head no and said fiercely, “I can’t breathe. There’s no air.”

“Think of something else.”

She felt his hands move from her shoulders to the buttons at her blazer. She could tell he was unbuttoning it, and the next thing Rachel knew he was slipping it off her shoulders.

“It might help loosening up some of your clothing.”

Rachel felt a scorching blast of heat envelop her when James’ hands began to pull her silk blouse out of the waistband of her skirt. When his knuckles brushed her skin at the top of her blouse, she realized he was undoing more buttons at her breast. Her eyes bolted open, and her hands encircled his wrists. His movements stopped.

“What are you doing Mr. White?” she whispered.

“Helping you, I thought.” There was amusement swimming in his eyes.

“By undressing me?” Under normal circumstances she would be thrilled but she was still stressed over her situation.

“You can relax, Miss Masters. Your virtue is safe with me.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Why had she said that? Rachel wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

His soft laughter filled the elevator. “Well in that case, maybe you’re not safe with me.” He nudged her hands away and continued what he was doing. His gaze followed his hands while he unbuttoned her blouse, and when he was done he raised his eyes to hers.

She detected a slight difference in his breathing, and his features hardened with what she wanted to believe was growing desire.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

HOLD ON by LaVerne Thompson

HOLD ON by LaVerne Thompson 

One phone call changed both their lives.

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

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

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



~Excerpt~

“911 Operator.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

HOT AT LAST by Cheryl Dragon

HOT AT LAST by Cheryl Dragon

All Male Nudes! Series, Book Five

For two decades, Ken and Avery have worked together at the Big D. Dishing out zingers and sparking each other over and over. Their past relationship blew up and replaced with a cautious friendship because neither could or would leave.

When Ken takes a fall off the stage and needs some help, Avery takes him in. There’s no avoiding the chemistry, attraction, and unfinished business now. Sorting through their dirty laundry and ancient history, neither wants to face heartbreak again but friends-with-benefits simply won’t work.

With these two, it’s true love or leave the Big D forever.

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   BUY IN KINDLE   ***   READ THE EXCERPT 

Excerpt:

“Ken is going all out,” Bev said as she pointed to the stage.

Avery turned his head, and indeed, Ken was in rare form. Normally, he hung in the back with a big group performance. He kept an eye on the other men and whipped them into shape at the next rehearsal if they’d been sloppy on stage.

Still, Ken had cut down his solo dances to one a night. All of his actions lately signaled he saw the writing on the wall. Avery silently scolded himself for nagging Ken today. Pushing his buttons only made him rebel. But silence riled up Ken as well.

“Just when I thought he was figuring out he’s not a kid anymore.” Avery took a bite of his piece of cake.

“He’s a dreamer. He’ll slow down, but it’s a shame his prince never showed up.” Bev smiled innocently.

Avery shot her a look. “He’s an adult. We all are. And this is America. If he wants a prince, he should’ve moved to Europe years ago.”

“So literal. We are who we are. I’m a business woman. Always have been. You got into stripping for the money. You never loved it the way he does. He lives for the attention and validation.” Bev shrugged.

“I know. He’s more than looks, though.” Avery had spent a year being the adult in their relationship. Adoring Ken and dealing with his need for more. He’d stroked that ego day-after-day.

“We both know that. He doesn’t understand his value off-stage because no one applauds when he does other things. He’ll never see his real value. It’s a shame.” Bev watched the show.

“He still has plenty of admirers.” Avery wanted to pour himself a stiff drink when he watched a big bear in leather shove a tip in Ken’s glittering briefs. The bulky fan leaned way over and rubbed Ken’s thigh.

Avery had buried his jealousy long ago. Drunken customers were a daily trial, but the splash of beer from the fan’s bottle caught the bartender’s eye. “We need to clean up that stage.”

“Let them finish. I’m sure Ken saw it,” Bev said.

Ken leaned over to give the bear a kiss on the cheek and slipped on the liquid. He didn’t fall on the stage but off it, hitting the side as he went.

“Shit!” Avery muttered.

He and Bev watched, expecting Ken to pop back up and take a bow. The waiting was agony. When Ken didn’t turn up and instead a couple experienced dancers hopped of the stage then waved for a bouncer, Avery knew it wasn’t good. The DJ announced a quick break to clean things up and invited the patrons to enjoy lap dances and refill their drinks.

“Go check on him,” Bev said.

“Me?” Avery asked. “He’ll listen to you.”

Bev shook her head. “I’ll cover the bar. Go check on him.”

Avery headed backstage and found Ken pacing and cursing. “That idiot!”

“Relax, it’s not the first time someone spilled or fell on stage.” Avery noticed Ken cradling his right arm. Everything else seemed just fine on him, but his shoulder looked weird.

“Off. I fell off the stage,” Ken informed Avery. “I’m okay.”

“Except for that arm. I think it’s dislocated,” a bouncer said.

Avery saw the pain Ken was hiding. He’d had plenty of dancing injuries. Twisted ankles, knees and a thrown-out back. When they’d dated, Avery hadn’t minded nursing him. This time, Ken was in real pain.

“I’ll be fine. Probably badly bruised and sprained, that’s all.” Ken tried to downplay it. “Go on! Get back out there! Do your jobs. We’re not all injured.”

The bouncer and other dancers ran back out front. Ken’s hissy fits were second only to Bev’s. If Bev yelled, everyone worried. Avery knew that’s why she’d sent him. She’d be yelling at Ken, and things would spin in a bad direction.

As soon as they were alone, Ken’s calm face cracked. “Fuck this hurts!”

“Let’s go to the ER.” Avery grabbed Ken’s duffle and pulled out his jeans.

“No, I’m not going. It’ll be fine. Just twisted.” Ken shook his head.

Avery put his finger into Ken’s limp right hand. “Squeeze my finger.”

“It’s a pinched nerve or swollen joint. It’ll go down with some icing overnight,” Ken argued.

“We’re going. Want me to get Bev in here? File it as workman’s comp?” Avery threatened as he held Ken’s pants open.

“You’re such a jerk sometimes.” Ken stepped into the jeans.

Avery pulled them up and closed the fly. It’d been a long time since he’d been this close to Ken. The smell of his old lover, the perfect muscles and the good memories flooded Avery’s mind. No one else made him feel this way, but they didn’t need to reignite anything. It’d taken so long to find balance and friendship.

“Want to try a shirt?” Avery asked.

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