GETTING DIRTY by Erin Nicholas

GETTING DIRTY by Erin Nicholas

Sapphire Falls Book Three

Travis Bennett is exactly the kind of guy Lauren Davis has been avoiding for the past nine years. Religiously. Stubbornly. Successfully. She knows too well how easy it is to let lust ruin perfectly laid plans. And a small town farmer with no ambitions beyond the borders of his own cornfield is not going to change her mind. She’s got important stuff to do. Her company is literally working to stop world hunger. Her plans are much bigger than Sapphire Falls. No matter how hot those farmers might be. 

The problem is—Lauren is falling in love. With Sapphire Falls. To kick her sudden desire to buy a welcome mat and start baking pies, she asks Travis to help her get over her crush. She wants him to show her what life in the small town is really like behind all the sweetness and sunshine and remind her that there’s no place for French manicures and Gucci heels on the farm. 

Travis has everything he wants or needs—a quiet, simple life in his hometown, a successful farm and his friends and family all around. A hoity-toity city chick who looks down on everything from the local coffee to his favorite music is the last girl he wants sticking around. So he agrees to her crazy plan. He can definitely show her the less-than-glitzy, rough-around-the-edges side of Sapphire Falls. In fact, things just might get downright dirty.

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

~Excerpt~

© copyright Erin Nicholas, 2014

“Whatever.” She was leaving. What the hell she was doing in the midst of chickens and cows, she didn’t know, but this was Sapphire Falls and it was the annual town festival—most of both of those things didn’t make sense to her.

She turned her back on the calf… and ran directly into a hard chest.

And something cold and wet.

“Ah!” She jumped back, shaking her hands free of the icy liquid that cascaded down the front of her soaking into her shirt and freezing her skin.

It was a warm June evening so she was quickly more concerned about the fact that the liquid was purple. On her white shirt. Because of course it was.

She looked up into the grinning face of the man whose grape slush had just soaked her.

Travis Bennett. Because of course it was. She sighed. Mud, cornstalks, manure… she’d had all of that on her at various times in Sapphire Falls and Travis Bennett was always the cause.

“Why am I always getting dirty when you’re around?” she demanded, grasping the front of her blouse and pulling the wet stickiness away from her stomach.

“Oh, darlin’ that ain’t dirty.”

No apology, no reaching for a napkin, no sheepish look. All she got was “darlin’” and the word “ain’t”. In a drawl that was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Oh, and a big, fat, cocky grin.

“I’m soaking wet!”

His grin pulled up more on one side. “Now that I have some theories about.”

Lauren narrowed her eyes and planted a hand on one hip. “Theories about what exactly?” She knew where he was going with this, but she wanted him to say it so she could shoot him down. Like every other time he’d made any kind of sexual innuendo.

“You being soaking wet when I’m around.”

She gestured to her clothes. “Clearly, you need carnival food to get me wet, Farmer Boy.”

“No kiddin’. I woulda pegged you for a fancy schmancy wine and caviar girl.”

Liquor actually. She loved a good martini.

“But hey, a girl who likes meat on a stick and funnel cakes is my kinda lady.”

Meat on a stick. Yeah, right. Though funnel cakes weren’t horrible. They involved powdered sugar after all.

She blew out an exasperated breath. Travis talked like a hick. Why did she want to put her hand down the front of the blue jeans that had been covered in who-knew-what in the course of the years he’d owned them?

Travis was a farmer. A small town farmer. A small town farmer who had never traveled outside of the county in which he’d been born—and his father had been born and his grandfather had been born. She knew the type. Too well. She’d been surrounded by the type, involved with the type, in love with the type, until she escaped to the city. Where she’d found real life. Real culture. Real coffee.

And it didn’t matter what city. She loved them all. Traffic, people, action… life. And not a cornfield or haystack for miles.

She was a city snob, a small-town-phobic. She knew it. She owned it.

And no good-looking, suntanned, slow talking, cheap beer guzzling small town farmer was going to change her opinion.

“Clearly the slushie needs to be applied externally for it to get me wet,” she told the cheap beer guzzling small town farmer she wanted to lick from head to toe. In a cornfield.

She hated him.

“You city chicks are into some weird stuff,” Travis said. “But darlin’, I’ll apply anything you want anywhere you want.”

Stupid tingles all over her body.

She put on an unaffected expression. “And I suppose it would be some sexy set-up like the bed of your truck with mosquitos buzzing around and maybe some straw poking me in the ass while we’re at it?”

He gave her a slow grin. “You, me, the bed of my truck... I’ll put twenty bucks on soaking wet in five minutes.”

The bed of his truck. Of course.

But it wouldn’t take five minutes and he knew it. Somehow.

Damn him.

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

GOING FOR FOUR by Erin Nicholas

GOING FOR FOUR by Erin Nicholas

Counting on Love, Book 4

It's either true love…or the biggest mistake they've ever made.

Hot firefighter Cody Madsen has stayed away from Olivia Dixon for almost two years-technically. Even though he talks to her every day and sees her every weekend. But there's no kissing, touching, or telling her how he really feels. Because they're just friends. Anything more than that would mean crossing the line that Olivia's older brother has firmly drawn between them.

Olivia wants what her three sisters have-true love. She could almost believe she's found it with Cody, if it weren't for the fact that he's her older brother's best friend and her brother won't have it. And he's never steered her wrong before. Her head is telling her to trust her brother, but her heart won't let go of Cody.

Her solution? A dating site where she and Cody can each find their "Perfect Pick" once and for all.

But when the site yields some unexpected results, their real feelings come front and center. And they have to decide if it's worth the risk to cross the line from friendship to love after all.

Warning: Contains a starry-eyed romantic, a wannabe knight in shining armor, and chocolate chip cookies. A lot of chocolate chip cookies.

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

Copyright © 2014 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Cody Madsen had never seen Olivia Dixon naked. Until today.

And there was a very good reason for that.

Two, in fact.

She was his best friend. And her brother would kill him.

But damn, the sight was breathtaking.

Breathtaking enough that his entire system short-circuited and all he could think was Every day for the rest of my life.

“Cody! Oh my god! What are you doing here?”

She’d obviously just stepped from the bathroom. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, the scent of her favorite shower gel and lotion were strong in the air and, most significantly, she was as naked as the day she was born.

Which had to be why his brain and mouth would not connect.

Olivia crossed an arm over her breasts—her glorious, perky, perfect breasts—and put a hand over her even-more-private part—the mouthwatering, holy crap, light blond hair that was trimmed into a perfect V pointing the way home—and said louder, “What are you doing?”

But it wasn’t until another voice hit his ears that Cody was able to pull himself out of the Olivia-is-even-hotter-than-I-thought daze.

“Cody! I’m heading to the fuse box!”

Olivia’s eyebrows arched. “Is that Conner?”

It was. And Cody’s first spoken word on the matter was, “Crap.”

He grabbed her upper arms, backed her into the bathroom and kicked the door shut.

That proved to be the biggest mistake of all. Her skin was silky and warm and he should never have touched her.

“What’s Conner doing here?”

Cody was an idiot. When he’d first seen that she was naked, he should have turned around and gotten the hell out of here. Instead, what had he done? He’d touched her. Then he’d put himself in a closed room with her.

A tiny closed room.

“There’s a good reason we instituted the conservative-clothing-at-all-times rule,” he said gruffly.

She still had her arm and hand covering the most important parts, but that didn’t matter one iota. He was never going to be able to forget what he’d seen.

“That rule is for when we’re together,” she said.

“We’re together now.” Wow, were they. Her scent was imprinted on his brain. Now, standing submerged in a cloud of it between her and the bottles on the shelf behind her, he found himself taking deeper and deeper breaths—and growing harder and harder.

The naked-breasts-and-other-parts thing wasn’t helping.

“I didn’t know we were going to be together now,” she returned. “What are you—and Conner—doing here?”

“Fixing the outlet in the kitchen that’s not working.” He breathed deeply and concentrated on keeping his eyes on hers. “I texted you.”

“My battery died.”

“Why are you naked?”

“I took a shower.”

“You’re not in the shower now. Do I need to buy you a robe?”

“I don’t need a robe when I’m in my house, presumably alone.”

“You always walk around the house naked when you’re alone?”

“Yes.”

He had nothing after that. He pressed his lips together and resolutely continued to focus on things above her shoulders. Like the two empty towel racks. “Where are your other towels?”

“In the dryer.”

He pulled the towel from her head, handing it to her. “God. Cover up.”

She wrapped the towel around her body, her wet hair falling past her shoulders, big blue eyes staring at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You look…weird.”

“This is, apparently, how I look when I’m trying with every fiber of my being not to kiss you.”

She made a soft choking noise and her hand grasped the towel tighter against her breasts.

“I’ve never seen that look before.”

“Yeah, I saw a few things for the first time today too.”

And she grinned.

That was one of the things he loved most about his “friend” Olivia. She had a fantastic sense of humor.

“What I mean is,” she said, “I thought there have been times in the past when you’ve had to try not to kiss me. And I’ve never seen that face before.”

There sure as hell had been times he’d had to resist grabbing her and pushing her up against the nearest wall. Or the nearest desk. Or the nearest copy machine, car door, refrigerator…

He cleared his throat. “Those times I was trying to resist kissing your lips.”

“But wh—”

She broke off as understanding dawned. And her cheeks got pink.

“God,” she finally breathed. “The not-talking-about-sex rule we have is a good one too.”

So were the other three rules they’d established nineteen months, two weeks and three days ago.

First and foremost was no kissing.

Second was conservative clothing only when they were together. He didn’t go shirtless, even when he was cleaning out her rain gutters in ninety-eight-degree weather. She didn’t wear fitted tank tops or short skirts. He didn’t wear fitted tank tops either—she’d added that to the list after the last time they’d gone to a baseball game together. If swimsuits were required, he wore baggy trunks that reached almost to his knees, and she had a two-piece with bottoms that looked like shorts and a top that covered her stomach and chest completely.

Third was no talking about sex—with anyone specifically or the overall topic in general. No innuendos either.

Fourth was no getting drunk together—they’d made that mistake once and would have made all kinds of horrible choices if Olivia’s sisters hadn’t come home early.

Fifth was no avoiding each other. That wasn’t acceptable. They were friends. They enjoyed being together. They had an entire group of friends in common.

It didn’t matter that they were more attracted to each other than they ever had been to anyone else. They weren’t going to let it keep them from being friends, and they weren’t going to let it make things awkward between them.

In fact, their friendship was one of the barriers they’d put up in hopes of fighting their attraction. They’d become even better friends, entirely on purpose, after the one and only time they’d kissed.

Nineteen months, two weeks and three days ago.

The thing was, the friends-only deal worked. It had started off as “let’s go to a movie” or “want to grab a burger” here and there, but once they’d started talking and laughing together, it had grown. When they’d discovered a mutual love for baking and had started baking together—even when he sometimes wished baking together was a euphemism for other things—their friendship had evolved into something real. There was something very innocent and fun and, of course, sweet about baking together. And in the process of mixing up cookies, muffins, brownies and new inventions here and there, they’d talked and shared and bonded.

Now they both protected the friendship staunchly. He’d never survive if he lost having Olivia in his life, and if that meant never kissing her again, so be it.

Or so he typically thought.

When she wasn’t naked in front of him.

“You’re still making that face,” Olivia said, her voice soft and a little breathless.

He was sure that he was. “You’re still standing here in a towel.”

“I can’t fix that until you move out of the way of the door,” she said with a smile.

He nodded. “It would make sense for me to move then.”

She swallowed. “If you want me to get dressed, anyway.”

“Right.”

He didn’t move out of the way.

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

BEST OF THREE by Erin Nicholas

BEST OF THREE by Erin Nicholas

Counting on Love, Book 3...

Sometimes it takes a couple of tries before you get love right. 
 
Emma Dixon is known for getting in over her head—and having a great time doing it. She’s aware her shenanigans rub Nate Sullivan the wrong way, but getting a rise out of the cocky surgeon is one of her favorite pastimes. Truth be told, exasperated looks aren’t the only things she wants from the guy.

Nate has no intention of taking another trip down the falling-in-love road. Women are carefully compartmentalized—to his bedroom. Women who don’t mind his take-charge tendencies. Women very different from sassy, sexy, independent Emma.

But his usual strategy of arguing with Emma to keep from kissing her goes out the window when his son falls in love with her friend’s daughter. Emma sees a normal teenage romance. Nate sees his plans for the boy’s future ruined.

As Nate tries to derail the relationship, Emma runs interference, putting herself directly in the path of the chemistry that grows stronger every time they butt heads. And that could very well lead to the best surprise of all.

Warning: Contains a guy who knows exactly who he is and what he wants and a girl who’s going to change his mind about, well, everything. Plus inappropriate use of chocolate cake (of course, that depends on your definition of inappropriate).

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT


Copyright © 2013 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


“So, why don’t you ever ask me to take my clothes off?”

Nate Sullivan didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t act surprised, or amused or—most of all—interested. “Because X-rays can see through clothes.” He also didn’t lift his head from whatever he was putting into her medical record on the handheld computer.

Emma Dixon sighed. Nate was the one man in the world who looked at her with only exasperation. When he looked at her at all. She hated that she was attracted to him. “But it seems that you’re passing up a great opportunity.”

“Well, seeing women naked is why I went into medicine in the first place,” he said, dragging the pad of his index finger over the screen. “But then shattered bones won my heart and that’s the only thing I want to look at all day long now.”

And that bugged the crap out of her, Emma could admit. Not that she believed Nate didn’t like looking at naked women, but that he didn’t want to see her without her clothes. She wasn’t sure what to do with that. Men always wanted to see her without her clothes on.

“I know you’re not gay. You have Michael, after all,” she said, referring to Nate’s eighteen-year-old son. “Do you have trouble getting it up?”

Nate didn’t even blink as he continued tapping on the screen. He also didn’t look up.

Okay, that was low. Childish even. He just brought out the worst in her. She became this sad attention-seeking-low-self-esteem-over-compensating hormonal teenage girl that she hated when she was around him. She wanted to get a reaction from him. Always. Any time they were together.

“I even wore my pretty bra, in case you wanted to see me in one of those skimpy gowns,” she said, in spite of knowing she would not be proud of whatever came out of her mouth at that point.

Finally, he looked up and handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s a refill on the pain meds and no sex for six more weeks.” He completely ignored all of her attempts to rile him.
Bastard.

Emma looked at the prescription in her hand, then frowned at her surgeon. “You actually wrote that on the prescription?”

“Makes it official. This way, if you do it anyway and then come back in here complaining about how bad your hip hurts, I can officially say ‘told you so’.”

Emma resisted the urge to growl at him. Barely. “Seriously? It’s already been twelve weeks.”

He raised an eyebrow, in that very irritating you’re-acting-like-a-four-year-old way he had. She swore he only gave that look to her.
“Six more weeks.”

Nate Sullivan was cocky. Full of himself. Had a god complex. The whole nine yards. And he was completely and utterly immune to her charms. That made him more unique than the fact that he could put anyone back together again, no matter the trauma. It was thanks to him that she was now in one piece after the car accident and that she was walking again.
Unfortunately.

Knowing that she owed the guy who could make her crazy in under two minutes, made her…crazy.

“My physical therapist says that it’s ridiculous to still have a sex limitation after this long,” she said, folding the script and putting it in her pocket. She would fricking follow the damned thing because she would rather chew glass than hear “I told you so” from Dr. Sullivan.

“Does he?” Nate didn’t seem concerned. He was sliding her X-rays back into their envelope.
“He says that I won’t know what I can do until I try it.”

“You sure he was talking about sex and not jogging?”

“You said no jogging yet either.”

“Right.”

“He says that part of his job is to help me try the things that might be a challenge at first. You know, the whole physical therapy thing. He says I can try the new things out with him.”
That got Nate to look up. “Jogging, right?”

She leaned back, bracing her hands on the exam table behind her. God, there was something about him in that long lab coat and tie. She never saw him like that. He played football on the same amateur team as her brother, the Omaha Hawks, and he hung out with the guys afterward down at their favorite bar, Trudy’s, so she always saw him in uniform or jeans. And he looked very fine in both. But once he’d become her doctor—not that she’d had any say in that, having been unconscious and all at the time—she’d seen him dressed up and in charge. And damned if it didn’t make her tingle every time.

“Do you really think I need to wait six more weeks?”
“To jog?”

She allowed a long pause before saying, “Sure. Jogging.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes. I think you need to wait six more weeks to…jog.”

She had no desire to jog. She hadn’t been a big fan of it before her accident and, frankly, the idea of landing on her hip and pelvis like that made her shudder. It didn’t hurt much anymore but it seemed she always expected it to.

Nate started to turn away, then stopped. She followed his gaze to what had caught his attention. Her cane.
“What’s that?”

“You walk around here like a know-it-all but you’ve never seen one of those?” she asked, her stomach knotting. She knew what he was going to say. It was the same thing her therapist had been saying for four weeks. She didn’t need the cane anymore.

And when they broke their pelvises, they could toss the cane after eight weeks if they wanted to. This was her recovery.

Instead of grilling or lecturing her, however, Nate pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, dialed and lifted it to his ear, all the while watching her. “This is Dr. Sullivan. I need to talk to Bruce.”
Her physical therapist. Great.

He didn’t even bother to greet Bruce. “Why is Emma Dixon still walking with a cane?”

He paused to listen, then said, “Get her off of it,” and hung up. He pocketed the phone and turned away, adding something to her medical record.
“Seriously? You don’t want to talk to me about it?”

“Bruce told me what I needed to know, and I told him what he needed to know,” Nate said without looking up.
She felt the knot of tension tighten. “What did he say?”
“You know better than anyone what he said, Emma.”

She felt her tummy flip at his use of her name. It was so stupid, but he rarely called her Emma, and never called her Em like everyone else did, so when he used her name, it always startled her. “He told you that he tried to get me off of it, but I won’t do it, right?”
“Right.”

“I don’t want to get rid of it yet. Why isn’t that okay?”

“Because it’s ridiculous. You can’t expect to make progress if you aren’t willing to try.”

“It’s okay for me to not have sex for six more weeks, but I can’t keep the cane?”
“Right.”

“Why?”

“Because in my professional opinion, that’s what needs to happen.”

God, he was frustrating. He was so damned bossy. She’d seen him yell and get riled up on the football field, but most of the rest of the time he seemed—stuck up. Conservative. Uptight. Something. She loved to try to rile him simply because it was so interesting to see him get worked up. She seemed to be the only one who could really get him going. He’d argue with her, when he’d shrug at everyone else who disagreed with him. She always loved sparring with him.

But she hadn’t imagined such a dominant, I’m-the-boss side of him.
And she certainly hadn’t imagined liking it.

“I’m not ready to get by without the cane yet,” she said. She could be equally stubborn. Ask any of her siblings.
“But you are ready for sex?”

Something about the way he said it, or was looking at her, or something, made her need to take a deep breath. “Maybe.”

“Is there someone that you’re dying to get back in bed with?”
No.

But that was neither here nor there. Nor was it any of his business anyway. She didn’t have anyone she wanted to sleep with, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be ordered not to sleep with anyone by her annoying, I-know-better-than-everyone-else-in-the-world doctor.

She didn’t care if he did know better than everyone else in the world about her injury and its repair.

It was so strange, looking at him now, to think that he’d seen parts of her body that no one ever had and, god-willing, no one else ever would. That he’d had his hands inside her, putting her back together, was strangely intimate.
Or stupid.

It was definitely that.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked. Did Nate truly care who she was sleeping with? Surely not.

“I would not be pleased to know that one of the physical therapists I refer to the most is having an inappropriate relationship with one of his patients.”
Oh.

She frowned. “I’m not sleeping with Bruce.”

Nate seemed satisfied with that simple answer. Which also irritated her. If he cared, he didn’t care much.

“No sleeping with anyone for six weeks. At least,” Nate said.

She tipped her head, watching him, hating him for looking so good in a tie, hating herself for liking him in a tie. She didn’t go for guys in ties generally. She liked blue-collar guys, guys who worked with their hands. Her attention dropped to Nate’s hands and she had to swallow hard. He worked with his hands. He’d had his hands all over her. He’d worked for hours to make sure she was okay. Her life had been in his hands.
And she’d been unconscious for the whole thing.

And that disappointed her.

Which she freaking hated.

She’d been in a car accident. She’d been bloody and broken. He’d cut her open, for god’s sake. There wasn’t one damned thing about it that was sexy or hot. She needed to get a grip.

This was all a product of Nate being the one guy she couldn’t seduce. He could resist her. More, he could make her feel stupid and silly. She hated that more than anything else.

She slid off the table and slipped her sandals back on her feet. “I’m tired of that topic and I have my paper for more drugs, so I’m gonna head out.”

She pulled the hem of her top down—the top that Nate definitely did not want her to take off—and ran a hand through her hair. But as she twisted the doorknob, Nate again used her name.
“Emma.”

Schooling her features before she turned, she gave him a bored look. “What?”
“Behave.”

She hadn’t behaved since she was six. “See that’s where this doctor-patient thing stops working,” she told him, pulling the door open. “You can control my medication and you can bully my physical therapist. You can even keep me from all of my favorite workouts. But nobody has the power to make me behave.”
LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

HOST 911 by Kassandra Cox and Edward Tailor

HOST 911 by Kassandra Cox and Edward Tailor

Sexy paramedic, Sam Norton, arrives at the scene of an accident to find that he is required to take on the soul of the lovely, feisty Saffron Maze in order to save her life.

Two minds in one body makes for some interesting antics; especially considering Saffron’s desire to make the most of the experience while broadening Sam’s sexual horizons.

Although both are anxious for their body sharing to end, once it does, will they find that residual feelings remain?

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

~Excerpt~

She heard a few others asking him if he was ok and if the transfer had gone smoothly. Hmph, no one seemed to care about asking her anything. He replied and she felt like a fifth wheel with nothing to do. Her curiosity took over and she focused her attention on Sam’s body. She could see his reflection in the glass storefront that he’d turned to face to keep her from viewing any more of the accident than she needed to. Not bad. He was tall and broad. His square jaw gave him a look of strength and dependability. It looked as though his eyes were a brilliant blue and his hair dark, more black than brown. It was cut short and spiked a bit on top in a ruffled look. If she concentrated, she could feel his body from the inside. She could feel the fit of his uniform, his muscles rippling as he moved.

“Stop that!” Sam called out in his mind, clearly not enjoying her inventory of his assets. She hadn’t even gotten to the good parts yet. Saffron went silent as Sam and his partner, Dan he’d called him, rode in their ambulance over to the hospital to push her consciousness into a transfer pod until they could give her back her body. No worries there. She was happy to get out of this stranger and have a little rest and relaxation.

She listened as the arrangements were made. He was on the table next to the pod, staring directly at it as she could plainly see. She kept waiting for something to change but nothing was happening. Oh hell, no! Half listening to some half assed explanation about the pod being old and possibly no longer functional, it hit her like a brick. Until her body was all ready, she was not going anywhere...for two whole endless days.

“FUCK!” reverberated from both of them in the same mind at the same split second as realization set in, almost causing an echo. This was going to be a very interesting two days."

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

IT TAKES TWO by Erin Nicholas

IT TAKES TWO by Erin Nicholas

Counting on Love, Book 2

How do you fall out of love with a man who's all in?

Isabelle Dixon never should have said yes to that first date, but she couldn't resist Shane Kelley's larger-than-life personality. Except now Shane seems determined to make their no-strings fling into something more.

If she thought dating Shane was hard work, breaking up is proving to be much harder. Especially since she's planning on making some major life changes that don't include staying out all night, Jell-O shots, and a sex toy shop punch card. She needs a restful cabin getaway-alone-to gather her thoughts. And the strength to finally end things for good.

Shane has always prided himself on being the good-time guy. Exactly Isabelle's type…or so he thought. Yet ever since he suggested her moving in, she's been pulling back. Thing is, Shane does everything with gusto-including falling in love.

He's not about to let her get away that easily. Even if it means chasing her heart down a crazy road to prove that no matter what life throws at them, they make a damned good team.

Warning: Contains a strange road trip with several weird tourist stops, some hot sex in a car wash, and two people who are just crazy enough to be perfect for one another.

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT


Copyright © 2013 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


“You know…” Her gaze went to his lips and she felt the very familiar hot flush of desire. The things he could do with those lips should come with a warning label. “I had specifically planned on not kissing you in here tonight.”

“Is that right?” His hands curled into her hips and his attention focused on her mouth as well. “Why is that?”
“Because it never ends with kissing.”

Even the kissing was enough to make her willing and able to keep the part of her life away from him that she was afraid would turn him off. And the other stuff that the kissing led to… Well, she had no problem understanding why she’d kept up the act.

And if the sex was enough to inspire her façade, then everything else he was and did was enough to convince her she could keep it up long term.
Until she was away from him again.

He was like a drug. When they were together it all felt good and right and doable. When they were apart, she’d remember that this was never going to work long term.
“Do you want it to?”

Her gaze flickered back to his. What were they talking about? Oh, yeah, the kissing thing. “We never just kiss,” she said. “The first night we went out we had sex.”

His voice was a little gruff when he said, “I remember.” He pulled her even closer. “I also remember that you initiated the entire thing.”

She couldn’t deny it. The entire night had felt like foreplay. Which was a little crazy and a lot dangerous. They’d been at Trudy’s. Like they had been dozens of times before. They hadn’t even been there together. He’d asked her, for the third time, if she’d go out with him. She’d said no. Then he’d gotten up on the karaoke stage with Ryan and Cody and sung “Just a Gigolo” by David Lee Roth. There was something about him—the confidence, the big grin, the way he not only had a great time wherever he was but made sure everyone around him had a great time, something—that drew her in. She’d fought it to that point but after he left the stage, she’d asked him to dance. From there she was a goner.
“I remember too,” she admitted.

Shane lifted a hand and traced the neckline of her top, his finger sliding along the top swells of her breasts. “When you pushed me up against the side of my car in the parking lot and laid that first sexy kiss on me I was willing to beg for more on hands and knees. But I wasn’t about to suggest sex on the first date with a classy woman like Isabelle Dixon,” he said.

Classy. She’d quickly shown him her opposite side to that persona. “You didn’t have to suggest it, did you?” she asked, memories shifting through her mind like a kaleidoscope.

He chuckled. “No, I certainly didn’t. And trust me, I was very pleasantly surprised by the dirty mind and mouth behind the polished, sophisticated front you put on.”

Yep, she’d already shown him a little of her talent for switching personalities. And he’d been pleasantly surprised because it had gotten him laid. Well. Three times that night.

He lifted his hand to cup the back of her head and pulled her closer until their lips were a mere millimeter apart. She was a good six inches shorter than him, but she usually wore heels that put her at exactly the right height for things like dancing and kissing and for him to put her up against the wall, hike up her skirt and drive deep.

She wore skirts and thongs a lot when she was with Shane. For those very reasons.

“You want me to just kiss you, Iz? I can be happy with that.”

“You sure?” Her hand slid up the back of his neck and into his hair. He wore it longer than most of the cops, but he didn’t get any crap about it. She loved the way she could thread her fingers through it and grip it when he kissed her—wherever he was kissing her.
“Very sure,” he said softly. Then his mouth met hers.

They’d kissed in every way there was to kiss. Soft and sweet, hot and heavy, long and delicious, all over each other’s body. This was a combination of all of those and then some.

His mouth moved against hers, lip to lip, for a long time. He’d press, then retreat, change angles, open slightly, lick along her bottom lip, then back off and softly kiss the corners of her mouth.

Shane lifted his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face, holding her still. Then he kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, the side of her neck, then returned to her lips.
Isabelle sighed against his mouth.

“I could do this all night,” he muttered against her lips. “So many places to put my mouth.”

“Thought we were kissing only,” she managed breathlessly.

“Well, French kissing is kissing. And trust me, honey, I can French kiss you in lots and lots of places.”

She started to respond, but then he turned up the heat. He moved one hand to the back of her head, the other to her thigh, lifting it, pulling her close and holding her there, then he opened his mouth on hers, stroking his tongue in possessively.
This time she moaned.

The deep, hot kiss went on and on. Isabelle felt her whole body respond. Wet and hot and tingly. All over. Her scalp prickled, her nipples tightened, her stomach felt warm and everything below that was…all of the above.

She gripped the front of his shirt and arched harder against him, wishing they were naked, wishing she had worn her four-inch heels instead of the two-inch tonight.
God, she needed him.

She slipped a hand between them, running her hand over the hard bulge behind his zipper.
He released her so suddenly she stepped back.

“Whoa girl. I’m tryin’ to be good here. Show you I can do some vanilla kissing.”

That was vanilla kissing? Yeah, right. “I changed my mind,” she said, reaching for him.

He held his hands up and shook his head. “No way, babe. You wanted just kissing. I’m just kissing.”

“I want more than just kissing. Come on, Shane.” She stepped close and grabbed him by the shirt again. “You never say no to me.”

“Until now.” He gripped her wrist gently, but she knew she wouldn’t get her hand free until he let her go. “I’m gonna pass this test, Iz. I’m gonna pass all your tests.” He leaned closer until they were nose to nose. “I want you to move in with me. I want to be with you. I’ll have vanilla sex and play checkers. I’ll keep my hands completely to myself and make dinner for you every night. Or—” he leaned in close again, “—I’ll rock your frickin’ world as often, as hard and as loudly as you’ll let me.” He settled back on his heels. “It’s up to you.”

Isabelle stared at him, her heart pounding, heat swirling through her body. “Yes,” she finally said. “Yes. That last one. Right now.”

He touched his finger to her nose. “I’m gonna do this, Iz. Pretty soon you’ll be moving your panties into the top drawer of my dresser and wondering why you ever even thought to resist.”

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

STEALING THE BILLIONAIRE'S HEART by Melissa Hosack

STEALING THE BILLIONAIRE'S HEART by Melissa Hosack

Nixie Schuler is a jewelry store clerk down on her luck. She is one wrong move away from getting herself fired. Things become grimmer when she accidentally sends the rich, handsome, and famous Nicholas Morgan home without the pricey locket he purchased.

Nixie knows that if she has any chance of keeping her job, she needs to get that locket back into Nick’s possession before anyone realizes it went missing. She devises the scatterbrained plan of breaking into Nick’s home and returning the necklace while he is at a charity event.

Just like most things recently, her plan falls through when Nick catches her in the act. To Nixie’s surprise, even though he believes her to be a thief, Nick doesn’t send her to jail. Instead, he seduces her.

She quickly learns that she can’t keep her hands off of Nick. He is everything she could ever ask for in a man and more. There are two major problems, though. First, he thinks she’s a thief. Secondly, every time she sleeps with him the disastrous events that follow her get worse. Can Nixie survive her bad luck and manage to snag this billionaire’s heart?

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

 

“Find anything you like?”

 

Nixie gave a squeal and jumped in terror. She banged her knee painfully against the nightstand in her frantic attempt to turn toward the owner of the voice. When she was finally able to face the door, she found Nicholas Morgan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest with one eyebrow arched questioningly.

 

Nixie sucked in a deep breath of relief. It wasn’t the police. Thank heavens. “You scared the crap out of me,” she hissed. “You should make more noise when you creep up on people like that!” She frowned, realizing how contradictory that statement was.

 

“I’m sorry,” Nick said smoothly. “I forgot that I’m to warn the burglar of my presence. How thoughtless of me.”

 

“Burglar!” Nixie cried indignantly.

 

“Besides,” Nick added, “you were making enough noise for the both of us.”

 

Nixie felt a blush creep up her cheeks and quickly forgot about the burglar comment. Had she really been that loud? “Well,” she sputtered, trying to make up for her lack of stealth. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” she accused.

 

“I’m not supposed to be here?!” Nick cried in disbelief. “Excuse me, Nixie, but I live here. You’re the one breaking and entering.”

 

“How do you know my name?” she asked with a gasp.

 

Nick’s lip quivered in amusement and he pointed to her chest. “You’re still wearing your nametag.”

 

Nixie looked down at her nametag in utter mortification. She’d worn her nametag to a crime. Only she would break and enter with her name emblazoned across her chest.

 

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

SMOKING HOT by Karen Kelley

Today on our Cyber Launch Party Blog, we're celebrating Karen Kelley's sexy new paranormal release!

SMOKING HOT by Karen Kelley

"Kelley burns up the pages...this book is witty, sexy, and a lot of fun."—RT Book Reviews

Everything She Wants...

Working the night shift at the sheriff's office has given deputy Raine McCandless more than enough time to fantasize about the kind of man she'd like to take prisoner, so when she arrives home to find a sexy intruder waiting for her, she's pretty sure she must be dreaming.

...Can and Will Be Held Against Her

But Dillon Taylor, with his stunning blue eyes and killer tan, is 100% real, just not 100% human. Half-man, half-angel, he'd love to answer every naughty prayer Raine has ever had. But Raine is in serious danger. And Dillon can only fulfill her every fantasy if he can keep her alive.

BUY THE BOOK   ***   BUY IN KINDLE   ***   READ THE EXCERPT  
 


Excerpt from Smoking Hot:

A rush of adrenaline surged through Raine. The exhaustion she’d felt when she turned off Old Red’s engine was gone the instant she came inside and sensed someone else in the house. Every fiber of her being was on high alert.

"Show yourself!"

He stepped out of the darkness.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. She’d expected an unbathed drifter with a scraggly beard, not a cowboy who looked like he was made to fulfill any woman’s fantasies. He wore his clothes as if the black T-shirt and dark jeans had been made to fit his broad shoulders and muscled thighs. She hadn’t seen anything so delicious since being talked into going to that male strip show in Fort Worth.

She quickly regained her composure. He might be easy on the eyes, but he was still trespassing. "Who are you?" she asked. When he continued to stare, she wondered if he had a few missing brain cells. "Do you understand what I’m asking," she said, speaking slowly.

His eyebrows drew together, then relaxed as a lazy smile formed, as though he realized exactly what she was thinking and the joke was on her.

She bristled. He stood in the middle of her living room as if he belonged there and then had the audacity to smile, completely disregarding the fact she held him at gunpoint. She aimed the gun lower.

His smile vanished.

That was better. He wouldn’t think the situation was so damned funny if she blew his balls off. "I never miss what I aim at," she added for good measure.

"The bank is going to be robbed," he blurted.

Robbed? Yeah, right. Why would anyone want to rob the bank? The risk would be higher than what they could steal.

He suddenly closed his eyes.

What the hell? He acted as if he was about to leave. Was he planning to plow right past her? She tightened her grip on the gun. "How would you know the bank is going to be robbed?"

He opened his eyes, looking put out that she’d guessed his intentions and foiled his plan to escape. "Trust me," he said.

"You break into my home, then tell me to trust you. I don’t think so, cowboy. Turn around and put your hands on the wall." It was a shame the guy was a few bricks shy of a load because he was damned attractive. Not that his appearance would influence her. She’d met her fair share of good-looking criminals who tried to talk her out of handcuffing them. Their charm never worked.

"The Randolph bank is going to be robbed tonight," he repeated his warning.

Okay, she’d play his game and see exactly what he was up to. "And how do you know this?" He crossed his arms. She tightened her grip. "Don’t make me nervous." She motioned for him to lower his arms.

The slow smile appeared again, but this time it reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. The stranger was starting to piss her off. Their gazes locked and she found it difficult to look away. His eyes were an intense blue, mesmerizing. He broke the connection. His gaze slowly drifted downward as if he mentally removed everything she wore.

Her body began to ache with a need that burned low in her belly. When he finally raised his head, he wore an expression that said he knew exactly what effect he had on her and that she’d stopped thinking about shooting him. Maybe, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t start up again. She raised her chin, daring him to try something and see what she was capable of doing.

"You’re not willing to trust me?" he asked with a slow Texas drawl. He slipped one thumb into his pocket, his fingers tapping lightly against the denim.

Against her will, she watched, mesmerized by the motion of his fingers tapping, then brushing lightly against his pocket. With supreme effort, she forced herself to concentrate on getting him in handcuffs. She stifled a groan. That thought created a wealth of unwanted images.

Somewhere between Fort Worth and coming home she’d lost her edge. A month ago she would’ve had this guy in custody by now and be reading him his rights.

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

SMOKE AND MIRRORS by Michelle L. Levigne

SMOKE AND MIRRORS by Michele L. Levigne

~A Fae man with malfunctioning magic hides from matrimony in Las Vegas, disguised as a magician's assistant. A Half-Fae, female magician with secrets of her own.~

Alexi's malfunctioning magic made him a sitting duck when it came to husband-hunting Fae women. He knew he had to find a place where he could hide and make a living before he became completely bereft of magic, and ended up in Vegas, where his wonky magic wouldn't raise any eyebrows.

Megan was a Halfling Fae who made her living as a magician. She had enough magic to know Alexi was in deep trouble, and enough sense not to tell him she was a halfbreed. She took him on as her assistant because she thought they would both be safe with each other, and because he needed her help even more than she needed his.

Eventually, their working friendship turned to close friendship, partnership, looking out for each other. And then they realized they not only needed each other, but wanted each other.

However, there was Alexi's doomed magical heritage, and hungry Fae women caught in Need still on the prowl, and what chance did a halfbreed woman have against all that?


BUY THE eBOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT   ***   WATCH THE TRAILER

Alexi spotted a pickpocket. The tiny, translucent sparkle of magic at work caught his attention more than the boy's long fingers delicately lifting wallets and slipping inside purses, robbing oblivious tourists blind while they snapped pictures. Alexi watched the boy for a few minutes, trying to decide if he was Fae on a larcenous lark, or a Halfling who didn't know his heritage. Unfortunately, there were hundreds of Halflings in the Human world who had magic, didn't know it, and didn't know they used it to make their lives a little easier.

Alexi saw a handful of people stop and watch the boy work, then grin and walk on by. Obviously, some residents of Vegas had a low regard for tourists. They deserve what they get seemed to be the prevalent attitude.

That irritated him, which in turn surprised him. It wasn't too long ago that he would have been enjoying the show, too. He supposed that being a fugitive and having to actually worry about material possessions for the first time in his life had changed his attitude.

Megan had changed him. Just yesterday, she caught a customer stealing tips from a table. Signaling Joey, who manned the spotlight, she jumped down off the stage and caught hold of the hand holding the stolen bills. She went into an impromptu spiel about tripling the man's money with magic, so it would seem like he had stolen it, and squeezed his wrist until he let go of the money. The waitress whose table it was returned at that moment, scooped up her tip, flashed Megan a grin and stepped on the man's foot with her spike heel before she left.

Alexi had nearly broken into applause, right there.

No, Megan would not approve of what this boy was doing, and Alexi had the sneaking suspicion she would not approve if he just let the boy get away.

I'm no knight in shining armor, he growled at his conscience. They died out centuries ago, and good riddance, always running around trying to break enchantments and kill friendly dragons.

Alexi snapped his fingers and skipped across the street in the blink of an eye, to reappear directly behind the pickpocket. The boy turned and tripped over Alexi, to sprawl across the sidewalk at the feet of the four casino owners. Another snap of his fingers made the boy's belt break, so his oversized pants slid down to his knees when he stood up again.

While he pulled the pickpocket to his feet and brushed him off, Alexi used the sleight-of-hand skills Megan drilled him in. He pulled wallets and jewelry, watches and cameras from the boy's pockets and his sweatshirt.

A crowd gathered around, so the boy couldn't have escaped, even if Alexi hadn't been standing on the cuff of his fallen pants. The four casino owners stopped and grinned. A woman let out a little shriek and snatched back the pink rhinestone-studded watch Alexi retrieved from the pickpocket's right sleeve.

"Who do you think you are, the Lone Ranger?" someone muttered.

Alexi didn't have time to respond, because the shouts from people who had discovered they had been robbed brought a police officer running. He wasn't above using a few flickers of magic to keep the attention of Albert and his three friends. He only influenced them to stay and watch, knowing Megan wouldn't approve if he took away their free will.

What was wrong with him, that her opinion meant so much to him? Especially when she would never know, because he would never tell her?

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

NO MATTER WHAT by Erin Nicholas

The best doesn't come cheap...and this time it could cost him his heart.

NO MATTER WHAT by Erin Nicholas

Adam Steele is good. Good at using his money to get his way. Money always works - until he realizes he can't buy his daughter's way out of her new wheelchair. Three private physical therapists later, he's almost given up on Emily walking again. Then he meets Dr. Jaden Monroe. And his match.

Jaden doesn't know the meaning of the word "quit". But she knows a lot about "fired" after a public blowout with her ex jeopardizes the donation her hospital was counting on. Now the most tempting man she's ever met has made her just the offer she needs to save the new children's rehab wing - one million dollars to rehabilitate his daughter. In return she finds herself making Adam rash promises: that his daughter will walk in time to take the lead in the school play. And that he won't entice her into his bed. No matter what.

But Jaden didn't anticipate a teen whose injuries are more than physical. Or a man so passionate and devoted - and as tenacious as she is. As Adam wears down her defenses with kiss after kiss, the only thing harder than keeping her promise will be keeping a hold on her heart.

Product Warnings: This debut book by Erin Nicholas contains heated arguments that erupt only slightly more often than hot kissing, a new perspective on kitchen appliances, and sizzling sex occurring everywhere BUT the bedroom (though they eventually make it there).

BUY THE BOOK *** BUY THE eBOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

Copyright © 2009 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

One-night stands were a lot like apple pie as far as Jaden Monroe was concerned.

The notion of having sex with someone just for the sex had honestly never appealed to her. Like apple pie. Jaden had believed her whole life that she didn’t like apple pie simply because she’d never seen or smelled one that tempted her. But the truth was, her senses just hadn’t been introduced to the right one. Once she tasted the apple pie, she couldn’t get enough.

Especially à la mode.

The man now sitting at table sixteen near the front door of Big Billy’s Bar and Grill was the one that could change her mind about one-night stands. He wouldn’t even have to talk. He’d just have to be there, completely naked—of course—with those eyes that had been on her all night.

This guy didn’t just look at her, he didn’t just watch—he seemed to be studying her, even appreciating her, like someone did a painting in an art gallery. He took in every detail of how she moved—and breathed for that matter. She could feel it.

It wasn’t creepy, though it probably should seem a little stalker-ish. It made her hot and tingly and a bunch of other things she hadn’t been in a long time.

Looking at him now, Jaden couldn’t think of one reason why ice cream and sex couldn’t go together too. But with this guy it couldn’t be just vanilla. It would have to be something much more decadent. Double Fudge Brownie, maybe. Or Peanut Butter Passion. Spread all over him. And she definitely wouldn’t need a spoon.

Jaden was so into her thoughts that she didn’t notice the full beer mug until the beer came over the rim, drenched her hand and sloshed to the floor.

“Unless you’re planning to squeeze all that beer from a sponge into the glasses, pay attention,” Billy said, reaching over her shoulder and flipping the tap handle off.

Jaden only had half her mind on swearing under her breath and searching for a towel to dry her hand. “Sorry, Billy, I’m distracted tonight.”

“And for the past five months,” he grumbled, but he elbowed her gently to one side. “I know you’re going through a rough time, which is why I’m not going to make you pay for the three glasses you’ve broken, the fifteen dollars you’ve undercharged or the case of lemons that are rolling around all over the floor in back.”

He took the very full beer glass from Jaden’s fingers and set it on the waitress’, tray. “I’ll get the rest.” Billy grabbed the order pad and started pulling bottles together as he read.

It had been a bad night.

A bad week.

Hell, it had been a bad half year.

Jaden wiped up the excess beer with barely a corner of her mind on the task. She glanced toward table sixteen again. The man was on his cell phone, but his eyes were on her. Which felt good. One small spot of fun and pleasure in an otherwise sucky five months, three days, fourteen hours and twelve minutes.

Playfully, she leaned out over the bar surface, wiping at a non-existent spill. It put her cleavage—more remarkable in the stretchy, gauzy purple top she wore—straight in his line of sight.

She scrubbed for a moment, then glanced up. She was startled into straightening when she found his eyes still on her face, rather than her other assets.

But a small knowing smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

“Four more.” Roxanne, half of Big Billy’s wait staff for the night, placed her tray of empty beer bottles on the bar. “Apparently turning thirty is thirsty business.” She gestured toward the rowdy birthday party occupying the four tables closest to the stage and live band.

Jaden smiled weakly, relieved that Roxy had moved in to block her view of the man. What the hell was she doing showing off her cleavage to some stranger? While she was standing there getting all hot and bothered, he could very well be studying her to determine how best to cut her body up so that the pieces would fit in his freezer.

She shivered. She was comparing him to apple pie while he was working on wording the ransom note.

Jaden laughed out loud at that. He was going to be so disappointed when he figured out he was kidnapping someone whose close friends had about seventy-three dollars between them.

“You okay?” Roxy asked, fishing in her apron pocket for a bottle opener.

Jaden rubbed her forehead. Good grief, she couldn’t even open beer bottles tonight. It had been a difficult past twelve months for her—professionally and personally—and had gotten downright hellacious in the past five. And while drinking a vat of Amaretto sounded enticing, she wasn’t here tonight to relax, drown her sorrows or to celebrate. She was here to help cover her friend Gina’s shift while she went skiing with her boyfriend. Which was good. It was simple, it was straightforward, it provided her money and it had nothing to do with her ex-professional life or her ex-fiancé.

“Jaden,” Billy said wearily, holding up two large margarita glasses. “Why don’t you take a break?”

Jaden looked at the green contents of the glasses that looked barely touched. “What’s wrong?”

“They ordered mojitos.”

Well, at least she’d gotten the color right. Sort of.

“You know, Billy, maybe I’ll just head home.”

He looked relieved and Jaden smiled.

She glanced over to table sixteen again as she untied her apron and stuffed it in the laundry basket by the kitchen door. Being at home alone with her thoughts still rated higher than being tied up in the trunk of a car.

But for some reason, the idea of being tied up by the man whose eyes she met again, and whose gaze made even her pinky toe tingle, didn’t go in the direction of car trunks so much as four-poster beds. With silk scarves.

She huffed out a breath and wiped her hand across her forehead.

Yep, it was official. She was losing it.





Adam Steele always got what he wanted. And what he wanted was always a good idea.

He watched the petite bartender disappear through the swinging door behind the bar.

He wanted her.

When he’d first entered Big Billy’s, the tiny bar and grill on the outskirts of Kansas City, he’d noticed her and assumed it was the hair. It was so blond it was almost white and she wore it short and spiky, sticking up in every direction. On most people it would have looked ridiculous. On her, it fit. Which was absurd, considering he didn’t know her at all.

But it wasn’t the hair that kept drawing his eye. It was… He wasn’t sure. Which was driving him nuts.

“I’m here.”

Adam watched as his brother slid into the chair across the table from him, breathless, a bit rumpled, and an hour late.

“How much did you lose?”

“How do you know I lost?”

“If you were winning you would have left the game and been here when you were supposed to be.”

Tony gave him an insincere, chagrined look. “Five thousand.”

Which wasn’t bad in the high stakes poker games Tony played in. Especially since he usually won twice that much.

Adam downed the rest of his scotch. “Let’s get going with this. I have a conference call at six a.m.” Adam went to bed early and got up early. It was a habit and he didn’t like breaking habits.

“Fine.” Tony slung an arm over the back of his chair and turned to look around the bar.

Just then, Adam saw the white-blond hair emerge from the back room. It seemed that every cell in his body went on alert.

She came out from behind the bar and he saw her from the waist down for the first time. And what a view. She was small, barely five foot two and one hundred and ten pounds at the most. But she was toned and tight. Adam figured that he’d have to lift her to fit against her pelvis to pelvis in standing, but she was small enough that holding her up against the closest firm surface wouldn’t be a problem.

“Okay, here goes.”

Adam watched his brother rise and walk away from their table, but the realization of what he was doing took a few extra seconds to sink in. Oh, shit.





“Excuse me.”

Jaden felt someone catch her sleeve in his fingers and she turned. “No problem.”

“My name is Tony Steele. I need to talk to you.”

Tony Steele was good looking; she’d give him that. And he was smiling at her as if she was the only woman in the room. She supposed that usually worked for him like a dream. But again, it took the exactly right piece of apple pie to get her interested. Besides, she was off the clock. Jaden shrugged her arm out of his grasp.

“Sorry. I’m not interested.”

Jaden started to turn away, but he grasped the edge of the bar stool, spinning her to face him. He leaned in close so she leaned back until her shoulder blades pressed against the edge of the bar. He smelled good. She appreciated that, considering how much of her personal space he was taking up, but she wasn’t real thrilled at getting the chance to check out his pores up close.

Tony took advantage of her stunned silence to say, “I have to talk to you. I’d like to be nice about it. I’d like to charm you into having a civilized conversation. I’d like to buy you a drink.”

“I’d like to be a thirty-six C, but we don’t always get what we want,” Jaden said as sweetly as she could through gritted teeth.

His eyes dropped to her chest and he smiled a wolfish smile. “I’m not complaining.”

“Oh, good. I was concerned that we weren’t going to get along.”

“I prefer to be amiable about this but I can be a real asshole if I have to be.”

Jaden stared unwaveringly across the four inches that separated her nose from his. “I’m not having any trouble believing that.”

“Enough.” A deep voice broke into their stare down and Jaden’s eyes found those of the man from table sixteen. Oh, baby, he was trying to be her hero. Now she was definitely going to have dirty dreams about him.

Tony stepped back. He didn’t look thrilled, but rather resigned. Certainly not as if there was going to be any bloodshed on her account.

“Dr. Monroe, this is Adam Steele.” Tony made the introductions. “My boss. And my brother.”

Jaden’s eyes widened as looked from one man to the other. They knew her name. They knew her title. No one in Big Billy’s ever called her Dr. Monroe. Very few even knew she had a doctorate in physical therapy. Fewer cared.

“Where should we talk?” Tony asked.

These two seemed to care.

Adam held out his hand to her.

Oh, crap. There was no way she couldn’t talk to them now. She didn’t want to. In fact, she was willing to give up the chance of ever seeing Adam Steele without his shirt on in exchange for not talking to them. Nothing associated with being Dr. Monroe had been positive lately. No one who knew her as Dr. Monroe had given her any good news in several months. She had very little hope that this would be any different.

But she was curious. Not just about what they had to say, but also about how it would feel to touch Adam Steele. His hand was still extended, waiting to help her down from the barstool.

It was more than she could resist.

“Your table’s as good as anyplace, I guess,” she said.

She put her hand in Adam’s and let herself enjoy how big and warm and firm it was. Big, warm and firm were excellent characteristics in a man, in her opinion.

Adam took the chair beside her and Jaden concentrated on not noticing that even without looking she knew every move he made.

“I’m here to offer you a job,” Adam said without preamble.

She hid her surprise. “I have a job.” She gestured at the room in which they sat.

“This is a physical therapy job, Dr. Monroe.”

Jaden couldn’t cover her surprise quite as quickly the second time. “I don’t practice physical therapy anymore, Mr. Steele.” She uncrossed her legs and prepared to stand.

“Wait,” Tony said. “You haven’t heard everything.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Jaden told him, rising from the red vinyl seat. “Mr. Steele wants to hire me. And I don’t want to work for him. It’s pretty simple.” She couldn’t work for this man. She wanted to smear ice cream on his naked body, for God’s sake. There was no way she could stay professional with that image in her mind.

“It’s for my daughter.”

Jaden turned to Adam before she could stop herself. “What?”

“My daughter. Emily. She’s in need of rehabilitation. I’ve chosen to hire a therapist privately, for a number of reasons.”

Jaden’s eyes scanned his face. He was a dad. Well, that was unexpected… And not making him any less attractive to her. Finally, she said, “Children’s Hospital has the best staff of pediatric physical therapists is the Midwest.” Not one of whom had ice cream fetishes.

His eyes narrowed and he leaned onto his elbows on the tabletop. “As a matter of fact, I’ve done some research and I’m inclined to agree with you.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. “You are?”

“I would agree that they have one therapist who is of the caliber I want. In fact, Dr. Monroe, they have one of the most well-known, most respected pediatric therapists in the country. Or at least they did have. Until five months ago.”

Her cheeks heated. Crap. He knew even more than she’d imagined. “Mr. Steele…”

“In fact,” he interrupted, “you are the region’s expert in pediatric physical therapy, are you not?”

“I don’t…”

He reached inside his jacket lapel and then flipped two photographs onto the table. She picked them up. They were pictures of a girl who was obviously Adam Steele’s daughter—judging by the blue of her eyes if nothing else—sitting in a wheelchair. The only difference between the two photographs was what the girl was wearing. “This is Emily.”

“She’s beautiful,” Jaden said quietly.

“Yes, she is.”

Jaden looked up, drawn by the affection in his tone. His face softened as he looked down at his daughter. “I don’t care about anything more than her walking and smiling again, Dr. Monroe.”

The warmth and tenderness she saw in his eyes in that moment stole her breath. She had always been a sucker for devoted dads. Evidently, she wasn’t good at learning from past mistakes in that area.

“Has she had any therapy yet?” Jaden asked.

The hardness was back in his expression instantly. “Those pictures you’re looking at are from before the ‘therapists’ came to our house and after. You tell me which is which.” He didn’t even give her a chance to blink. “She’s still in her wheelchair, she’s still moping around and she’s still getting weaker every day.”

Jaden didn’t like the sarcastic way he said therapists but she didn’t call him on it. She also noticed that the word was plural. “How many therapists?”

“Three.”

She stood blinking at him for a moment. “You’ve had three therapists for Emily?”

“Yes.”

Jaden sat back down. “They quit?’

“They got fired.”

She blinked again. “Why?”

“They weren’t up to the job.”

Oh, boy. Talk about red flags. The truth was, even if Adam Steele was easy going—which he very clearly was not—this was never going to work. He didn’t know her whole story, and she was in no mood to share it with him at the moment. “I’m afraid I’m not the right choice for you either, Mr. Steele. I’m flattered, but…”

“Dr. Monroe,” he interrupted once again, “I am prepared to pay a million dollars for the private rehabilitation of my daughter. For that amount of money, I want the best. I want you.”

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

DO WAH DIDDY DIE by Pauline Baird Jones

DO WAH DIDDY DIE (aka I LOVE LUCI – WHEN I DON'T WANT TO KILL HER)
A romantic suspense by Pauline Baird Jones

Luci Seymour - sexy & free spirited - returns to steamy New Orleans in search of the father she's never met. She finds murder, mayhem, love and adventure when her timing puts her directly in the sights of an elderly hit couple and a con man's last scam.

Available in multiformat including kindle/nook/sony etc. from Fictionwise and in print.

What others have to say about Do Wah Diddy Die:

"When it comes to creating stories with offbeat humor and outrageous situations, Pauline Baird Jones is in a class by herself. A most excellent experience!" Jill Smith, Romantic Times; 4 Stars.

"Once again, Pauline Jones has managed to write a book that rivals anything other comedy writers have put out there for the discerning reader. Ms. Jones' tongue-in-cheek writing style will appeal to anybody, with or without a sense of humor. I spent half my time roaring with laughter and the other half enthralled with the mystery of 'whodunit'. This book is a must read of the highest caliber for anyone who just loves a great book, a good laugh and a fantastic story." Ariana Overton for Midnight Scribe, Murder List, WordWeaving, Tracy's Book Reviews, ebookconnections.com and Sharpwriter

"I could hardly bear to put this book down for anything. I kept wading through dead bodies to discover the tie in and get this mystery all figured out. I look forward to more hilarious reading from Pauline Baird Jones." Five thumbs up from Kathy Boswell, Kathy's Faves and Raves
Pauline Baird Jones has definitely carved a niche for herself in the category of romantic comedy, with talent that rivals the best and a sense of humor that is sure to leave readers breathless with laughter. If you love romantic comedy and haven't had a chance to read DO WAH DIDDY . . . DIE, you don't know what you're missing. This one is a must read! —Reviewer's Choice Award from Scribes World

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

An ancient radio was scratching out a Sousa march when Fern Smith unlocked the door of the seedy hotel room and found Donald posing in front of the cracked mirror with an AK-47 held at a military angle across his chest and a bandana knotted around his mostly bald head. His long, thin neck merged into plump jowls, making his head an uncertain rectangle, with the wispy remains of his hair trailing around three sides. A hang-dog expression adorned the fourth side. His puny shoulders were jaunty and self-satisfaction gleamed from close-set eyes as he regarded the speckled image in the substandard mirror. Donald was neither tall nor short--though he could appear either, depending on where he belted his pants across his beer belly--so his attempt at Rambo fell sadly short of the mark.

Fern pushed the door closed with her shoulder and dumped the sacks she carried onto the lumpy surface of the less-than-double bed. When she snapped off the radio, her voice broke flatly into the sudden silence. "I still think we should have bought the Uzi."

Donald froze like a deer in headlights, then spun to face her. He grabbed the bandana and stuffed it in his back pocket, then produced a wide, hopeful smile as he peered up at her, exposing the gap where his plates didn't meet his gums.

Fern was a tall woman, narrow everywhere but the hips, with stooped shoulders and long arms that made her look like a caricatured bird of prey. Her muddy gray hair, as wispy as Donald's, was drawn up in an off-center bun. Her narrow mouth, having long ago given in to the force of gravity, sagged on either side of her pointed chin.

"Teddy said--"

"I'm sure what Teddy said had nothing to do with the price." Fern's expression gave no quarter. "If you hadn't let Artie lay out the hit--"

Donald tenderly deposited the AK-47 on the dresser top, retrieved the bandana from his pocket and rubbed his fingerprints off the AK's. "His tab, his call."

Fern's sigh was silent, but it ruffled the back of what was left of Donald's hair as she reached around him to pick up the photograph of the target. She studied the face. There was something about her eyes, something deep in the mysterious green slits barely visible beneath drooping lids, that made Fern nervous. She tossed the picture down beside the gun.

"His way overdue tab, don't you mean?"

With a triumphant look, Donald pointed at something behind her. She turned and examined the beat up shoebox sitting on the table, its mailing label directing it to Reggie Seymour at a New Orleans address. With some reluctance she lifted the lid and found neat rows of envelopes also addressed to this Reggie. Inside one envelope was...

"A dollar bill?" She picked up the box, checked out other envelopes and found each contained a single dollar bill. "This is his down payment? A shoebox full of ones?"

Donald shifted his feet. "Ones or twenties, what does it matter as long as it's real?"

"No way there's half here--"

"He's good for it," Donald cut in, adding, "He's lucked into the perfect scam this time, Fernie. You should see him. Dressed to the nines, even has a Rolex watch. Said he'd cut us in on it. We pull this off and we can go to Disneyland in Japan if we want to! And that's just for starters."

"I thought marriage was his scam?" Fern tossed down the box with a snort of disgust. She'd never been able to see what all those women saw in Artie. "If he's willing to cut us in, there's more at stake than his new wife finding out about his other wives."

She wasn't surprised when Donald's gaze slid away from hers, though he tried to cover it by using his bandana to rub the stock of the AK-47.

"He's just had a spot of bad luck, that's all. He needs to move something before the wedding, but won't be able to if she comes--I don't know. It's complicated."

"With Artie it always is." Fern frowned. "Let's just forget the cut and take our fee--"

Donald twitched. Only once, but it told the rest of the story.

"He doesn't have it, does he?"

"He will. If we do the job." She raised a skeptical brow. He tried to trump her raise with a whine. "He's good for it," but his voice lacked the conviction. They'd both known Arthur Maxwell for too long. Of course, only an idiot stiffed a bopper. The fact that Artie was the biggest idiot she'd ever known, she tried to suppress.

A stray bit of sun found its way through a spot on the dirty window and fell across the polished AK-47. Fern gave another soundless sigh. A pity Donald had fallen so hard for it. There was no persuading him to take the cute little Uzi once he'd made up his mind. He was the hit man, so he got to choose the gun. It was even possible he knew what he was doing. It hadn't been that long since their retirement. She watched him hitch his pants up over his sagging belly, then swagger to the bruised cooler stashed in the corner of the room, his knee joints popping with each step.

Then again...

"And when we're doing time--" she began.

"We done time before." He extracted a cold one, popped the top and took a noisy swig. At least he hadn't used his teeth. With their financial hopes riding on an AK-47, they couldn't afford to replace his plates.

Fern crossed her arms. "Not in this state."

He had to think about that for a moment as he ran down the list of places where they had done time. "Do you good to make new friends."

He sank into a sagging armchair and gave her a hopeful look.

"We got enough trouble with your old friends."

Donald scowled. "Don't start on Artie again--"

"I ain't stopped--" She shook her head. "You shoulda popped him the first time he poked his face in the door."

Why did Donald put up with him? What was the deal with men and their crib mates? Just because they pissed in the same pot, they had to be friends for life? Only bright spot, Artie didn't pop up that often because he was usually in stir making new friends. She'd feel more comfortable about the whole hit if she could just figure out why Artie wanted the Seymour woman out of the way so bad that he was willing to pay them to do it--if he paid them.

"I don't like it. Too much that can go wrong."

"It's not what I'd choose," Donald admitted. "But there's logic to it. Really," he insisted when she arched her brows again. "Drive-by isn't what I'd choose myself. But then, I've always liked the high ground." He took another noisy drink before adding, "I've had time to think and it's not as bad as it seems. First place, there's your element of surprise. Look how good the St. Valentine's Day massacre worked." He directed a triumphant look at Fern. "Taking someone out with a bang is a fine, old tradition."

He had to be joking, but a cursory examination proved her wrong.

"Come on, Fern. We can do this. You drive the car. I'll point the gun. It's what we do--"

"It's what we did--"

"When it's over, we're rolling in scratch."

She was familiar with the look in his eyes. A mixture of calculated entreaty and seedy charm, mixed with greed. She was too old to stop giving in to him--or to stop trusting his well-honed survival instinct. She sighed, trailing her finger the length of the AK-47. It was cool and smooth--like she used to be.

Hadn't she always done everything she could to avoid the dreary anonymity of her parents' lives? Their walk-up apartment in Dayton wasn't a mirror of her parents' suburban hell in Jersey, but there were similarities when she let herself see them. Bingo at McDonald's instead of bridge at the country club. The occasional bus tour with other down-and-out senior citizens instead of summers at the seaside. Her parents had never lived wild or gone somewhere exotic. They had always been content with the mainland U.S.

"Enough to go to Disneyland."

LIKED THE EXCERPT??? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

HOT FINISH by Erin McCarthy

HOT FINISH - book three in Erin McCarthy's Fast Track Series

Not all marriages last forever!

Suzanne Jefferson is broke, which is why she's given up charity work for wedding planning. Fortunately, she has a high-profile client,and best of all, he's paid in advance. There are just two teensy problems: The bride is a bona fide bridezilla, and Suzanne's ex-husband is the best man. At least she thought he was her ex-husband!

But this one might...
Two years after their marriage fell apart, stock car race driver Ryder Jefferson still can't stop thinking about Suzanne. Which is why he isn't too upset that, due to a glitch, the two are still technically married. Now he's imagining easing Suzanne's woes by satisfying her needs in the bedroom. After all, that's the one room they never argued in. Besides, with wedding bells ringing all around them, Ryder is wondering if,even though they'd quit the race a few laps too early,they can still come on strong with a big, romantic finish!

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

Suzanne hustled to the door and opened it. She blinked to see Elec and Evan Monroe, Ty McCordle, and right in front, her gorgeous and annoying ex-husband, Ryder Jefferson.

“Hey guys, what’s up? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

“We’re here for the wedding planning thing,” Ty told her.

Oh, no. That meant that Nikki’s fiancé Jonas had asked them…

“We’re the groomsmen.”

Damn. Just what she needed. None of them would listen or take her seriously. She’d lose control of the whole situation.

Ryder brushed past her, dropping a soft kiss on her cheek, his familiar cologne wafting up her nostrils, and acting like a sexual trigger. She smelled Ryder, her nipples got hard. They were just trained that way.

“Good to see you, babe. And lucky me, I’m the best man in this wedding.”

Suzanne fought the urge to grimace. Good God, this fiasco just got more and more ludicrous. Now she was going to have to spend a fair amount of time around Ryder for the next month, and she just couldn’t deal with that on top of all her worrying about her future. He made her crazy, plain and simple.

And there was no way this best man was sitting on her lap.

Ryder handed her a manila envelope. “Oh, and this came addressed to both of us. It’s from our divorce lawyer.”

Suzanne looked at it blankly. It did have their divorce attorney’s name on the envelope, and it was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Ryder and Suzanne Jefferson. Ouch. It had been a long time since she’d seen her name linked with his, and damn it, it still hurt, which pissed her off. It didn’t matter anymore, shouldn’t matter. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t open it. Figured you’d want it.” He moved past her and the other guys did likewise.

Jonas Strickland was coming up her walk and there was a gaggle of Nikki clones behind him, women in their early twenties, tanned and thin and indistinguishable from each other except for the color of their various sweaters. There was red and yellow and aqua and two in white.

“Hi, come on in. I’m Suzanne,” she said absently. “Nikki’s in the dining room.”

Curiosity killing her, Suzanne ripped open the envelope as she walked behind them, their giggles and chatter a buzzing backdrop. There was a pile of papers that looked like their divorce decree. Okay. She read the cover letter from the lawyer.

And stopped halfway down her hallway, the words blurring in front of her.

Oh. My. God.

She was going to kill Ryder. She was going to rip his arm off and beat him with the bloody stump.

This paper was telling her she and Ryder were not divorced.

They were still married.

LIKED THE EXCERPT??? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK