ENEMY LOVERS by Shelley Munro​

ENEMY LOVERS by Shelley Munro​ 

Love might be waiting in enemy territory…

Clare Chronicles, Book 2

When Dallas O’Grady’s attention is hooked by a sexy rear end bent over a flat tire, he naturally pulls over to help. Then he gets a look at her face and realizes she’s one of those Drummonds.

The Drummonds and the O’Gradys might both live in the town of Clare, but they’ve never played nice, not since a generations-old feud started over a cache of stolen gold nuggets.

Laura Drummond has fought long and hard to grip independence by the throat and avoid her mother’s bulldozing attempts to control her life. She’s always admired Dallas from afar, and she’s pleased to discover that up close, he’s gorgeous, sexy, and nothing like the monster her family has painted.

When the road home is blocked, she’s forced to accept his offer of a bed for the night. One thing leads to another, and soon burning hot-desire melts into thoughts of forging a permanent relationship—damn their families’ disapproval.

But the feud isn’t the only thing conspiring to keep the lovers apart. And the clock is ticking…

Warning: Contains lovers determined to challenge the status quo, lots of sexy times, and a feud that just might destroy all their hopes for a happy future.

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Excerpt:

Copyright © 2015 Shelley Munro
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Whoa. Dallas O’Grady caught a glimpse of blonde hair seconds before the woman kicked her flat tire. She owned the sexiest arse he’d seen in months. Without another thought, he pulled his truck onto the shoulder and climbed out to offer assistance.

“Problem?”

“My brother is an idiot.” Her lyrical voice held the same crisp chill of the wind whistling across the Napier road. She turned, and he caught a friendly smile belying her words. “Thanks for stop— You!”

The smile skidded away.

Hard drops of rain fell on Dallas’s face, the sleeves of his brown leather jacket, as he eyeballed a very sexy, very grown-up Laura Drummond. His gaze shifted to the gray, washed out clouds, the sky building to dense black on the horizon, then to the rear tire on her late model sedan. “Fine, if you don’t want my help, I’ll be leaving.”

“No, please.” Her hand shot out to halt his retreat. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you’re hobnobbing with the enemy?” He spelled out what they were both thinking. Their parents would issue horrendous battle cries if they witnessed this scene, saw the pair inhaling the same air, let alone engaging in something civil like a conversation.

She swept a strand of blonde hair away from her pink lips. “You’re not my enemy. I don’t know you.” She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets, hunched her shoulders against the rain and stamped her feet. “Look, I’m grouchy. I have a flat. My brother borrowed my spare last week and told me he put it back. My phone is dead, and I’m not going to make Clare in time for my cousin’s hen party. My mother will make dolls in my image and stick pins in them.”

“My brother said there’s a slip partially blocking the road leading into the town, near the Shannon Pass. If it keeps raining, they might close the roads, if they haven’t already. You wouldn’t make it even if your car was drivable.”

“Yep, I’m screwed,” she said.

No, she wasn’t—not yet, but he’d love to take that thought to its logical conclusion. While their families might harbor long-standing grudges, his dick wasn’t sticking with the program. The skinny Laura Drummond from his vague school-day memories had grown into a classy woman. Her brown eyes glinted with intelligence while her mouth…

Dallas tore his gaze off her because his inappropriate thoughts bore repercussions. For one—a painful hard-on. And two, no way could he cozy up with the enemy.

He cleared his throat. “What do you want to do? I can give you a lift to Clare and hope we’ll make it past the slip, or I can ring for a breakdown truck.”

The rain was coming down harder now, icy crystal pellets pummeling his cheeks. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worried it then nodded a decisive agreement.

“Let me grab my purse and overnight bag,” she said. “I’ll grab a ride and chance my luck. The slip might have been cleared already.”

Dallas told himself not to look, but when she bent over to retrieve her bag, his eyes zeroed in on her arse.

Down boy.

God, he hadn’t experienced this sort of reaction to a woman for a long time.

Shaking the lust away, he accepted her bag and stowed it behind the driver’s seat. He straightened, his mind leaping straight to her and sexual desire. Man, he was weak. Giving in to his libido, he watched her lock her sedan and splash through puddles to join him.

“You don’t resemble your sisters and brother.” They were dark-haired, her sisters both shorter than Laura.

“Nope, everyone says I’m the cuckoo in the nest.” She peeled off her wet raincoat and slid her long legs into his vehicle. “Ugh, it’s bucketing down out there. I’m lucky you came along.”

She was still talking when Dallas climbed behind the wheel. Nervous? He grunted, started his truck and pulled on to the road, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation of water dripping down his neck.

“I take after my great-grandmother on my mother’s side. They say I’m her twin.”

Dallas nodded while his mind trotted back to the more pleasant occupation of imagining this woman naked and engaged with him in things carnal. A whoosh of heat replaced the chill of wet clothes.

“What are you going to do if the road is closed?” she asked.

“My cabin is on this side.”

“Oh.”

“Are you wondering what I’m going to do with you if the road is closed?”

“Please.” A strangled laugh emerged from her, tinged with a healthy dose of uncertainty. “I doubt you’d do away with me.”

“But you’re not too sure?” He set the window wipers to a faster speed and eased up on the accelerator, not taking his attention off the road. “I am one of those O’Gradys.”

“Positive.” She slanted him an ice-princess look, lifted that elegant nose just so. “I’m pretty sure you’re not hiding horns under your hair, although you might be concealing a tail. Even so, I’m confident I’ll get through this ordeal unscathed. I’ll grab a ride back to Napier. There’s bound to be someone heading to the city.”

Dallas barked out a laugh, amused at her sly humor lurking beneath the hauteur. She didn’t act like any Drummond he’d come into contact with in the past. He’d thought he might have consigned himself to an hour of chilly silence—more than an hour in these driving conditions. But she’d tossed his assumptions on their butt, and he found himself wanting to explore her mentally. Ditto the physical.

“What do you do for a job?” He shot her a quick glance, caught the wrinkling of her nose.

“My mother organized a place for me at a charity. I’m working for them at present, but I’d prefer a position with more challenge.”

“What sort of employment are you looking for?” Hearsay said Laura’s older sisters had never worked in their lives. They’d done the socialite thing, found rich husbands and married. They were now popping out a new generation of Drummonds to heap down hate on the O’Grady family.

“I enjoy organizing things, which makes me a natural in the administration field.”

“Are you good with computers?”

“Not bad. Any program I don’t know, I can learn. I’m a quick study.” Her chin lifted a fraction as if she expected him to challenge her statement.

Again, he found a smile pushing his lips for escape. He enjoyed a woman who surprised him. “If you weren’t a Drummond, I’d offer you a job.”

“What sort? What do you do?”

Again, not the reaction he’d expected. “My brothers and I own a couple of Irish bars in Napier, and I have several rental properties. It’s getting too much for me to handle the paperwork along with the day-to-day things.” The pub where he had his office wasn’t in the best part of town. Nah, he couldn’t see Laura slumming it at O’Grady’s. “We’re thinking of buying the old pub in Clare.”

“The one that closed down due to fire damage?”

“Yeah.” Dallas peered through the windshield, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Can I interview for the job?”

Dallas slowed even further until his truck crawled. Closer to the Shannon Pass, the rain slapped the windows, obliterated the scenery. What he could see of the sky was a sullen gray and lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a rumble of thunder. “You want to work in a pub? Maybe I should check you for horns and a tail. You have an impish sense of humor.”

“I’m not joking,” she said, and he felt the weight of her gaze. “But if you want to check me for devilish signs you go right ahead. I might enjoy it.”

Dallas opened his mouth, shut it again, risked a swift glance in her direction. A tiny grin played around her luscious lips. Oh yeah. She was pleased with herself. “I’m an O’Grady, sweetheart. I don’t possess the right bloodlines for you.”

“My parents want me to marry James Summerville.”

Another glance away from the road. Her big brown eyes held silent messages, and it took him an extended second to grasp the stray snippets of gossip and knit them together. His lips pursed in a silent whistle. “Isn’t he gay?”

“Yup, but James wants marriage. A… Sorry, you don’t want to hear about me.” Laura wiped a round circle on the passenger side window. A polite dismissal of the subject. “I don’t like the look of this rain. If anything it’s getting worse.”

“It’s not looking promising,” he agreed, deciding to let her get away with the change of topic. “Not wedding weather.”

“My cousin was set on an early spring wedding. Heck, I picture her stamping her foot and having a full-blown tantrum about the weather. She should’ve listened to the wedding planner. This time of year is always unpredictable.” Wily amusement colored her voice, and Dallas found his lips quirking. He fought the need to fall into a full-out smile of delight. If she’d been anyone else, he’d proposition her, offer her a cozy weekend of hot sex at his cabin.

But that wasn’t gonna happen.

She was a Drummond.

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WILD CHILD by Shelley Munro

WILD CHILD by Shelley Munro

Zoe Underwood is one sexy disruption.

From the moment her father married Matt’s mother, Zoe has tempted Matt Cantrell with her seductive curves and driven him crazy with her flirting and provocative manner. The thing is they have no future because Zoe is his stepsister. Determined to dodge trouble, Matt leaves Auckland to live and work in the Gold Coast of Australia. A sea between them should do the trick and let him move forward without the “Zoe” distraction in his life.

Matt Cantrell is one stubborn dude.

No one presses Zoe’s buttons like the tall, dark and gorgeous Matt. In fact, every other man pales in comparison. One last play. Zoe decides to invade Matt’s territory and make her move before some other clever woman snaps him up. She’ll bust through emotional walls and push boundaries. By the time she’s finished, Matt won’t know what hit him. Yes. Good or bad, she’ll stir things up and take a chance on love.

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Excerpt

Note for Readers: You must be over eighteen to read this excerpt.


Matt Cantrell frowned when he pushed open the front door to his Gold Coast beachside house. He was certain he’d locked it before he left for work. Positive. But it wasn’t locked now. Adrenaline rising, he reached around the corner and flicked on a light, glancing around the wide spaces of the open plan room. The trail of feminine apparel littering the tiled floor erased the lines from his forehead. Marisa had apparently recovered from her sulk at him for having to work late and cancel their date. A slow, satisfied grin curled his lips as he shut the door. Maybe showing her where he kept the spare key hadn’t been a mistake. A bout of hot sex was just the thing he needed to unwind.

He took half a step toward the bedroom, pausing to scoop up a shoe. When he fingered the flimsy leather straps, his smile turned feral. Damn, he’d thought he was in for months of empty-bed syndrome. With his current workload, he didn’t have time to find a replacement. Matt picked up the shoe’s mate and set them down, out of the way. The hair scrunchy came as a bit of a surprise. Marisa didn’t like to wear her hair loose and always wore it up in a fussy style he wasn’t game to touch. He registered the bright jewel colors of the scrunchy next, and a soft whistle broke the silence. The visit was definitely impulsive. His cock pulled tight in pure anticipation and an appreciative grin bloomed. Impulse wasn’t normally Marisa either, but he was happy to go with the flow.

The phone rang. Matt detoured to grab it up impatiently, his gaze on his bedroom door.

“Matt Cantrell.” He toed off his shoes and juggled the phone while he bent to yank off his socks.

“Matthew, thank goodness you’re home.” His mother’s anxious voice poured down the line.

Alarm bells clanged. Matthew straightened in concern. The time difference between New Zealand and Australia meant it was late in Auckland . Too late for his mother to ring. “Mum? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Matthew. It’s Zoë. She’s gone!”

“Gone where?” Matt asked, his breath easing out in relief. A storm in a teacup. Zoë was always testing parental boundaries. This time wouldn’t be any different. He shook his head, thinking about his feisty sister. Stepsister, actually, since they weren’t related in any way. They’d become a blended family when his mother and Zoë’s father had fallen in love and married. Not that he’d spent much time with his new stepsister since he’d already left home when Zoë and her father came on the scene. Prior to his mother’s remarriage, he’d started work at a large accounting firm in central Auckland and had already moved into a flat with three of his friends.

“We don’t know. We haven’t seen her since the day before yesterday,” his mother wailed.

“She’ll come round,” Matt said, wondering how soon he could join Marisa in his king-size bed. He didn’t want to think about Zoë. Hell, he tried not to think about her. The eight-year gap was a big one despite his sister’s maturity. Stepsister , his mind reminded him tartly. They weren’t related. “She’s probably staying with university friends.”

His mother sighed. “That’s what we argued about. Zoë’s dropped out. Says she doesn’t want to be a teacher any more. And she’s running with a wild crowd. I’m sure she’s sleeping with one of them. She came home with bruises all over her neck.”

Hickeys? Matt’s hand gripped the phone so hard his knuckles whitened. He’d moved across the Tasman Sea to avoid temptation—the siren lure cast by Zoë. Matt snorted inwardly. And the joke was she had no idea. He cleared his throat. “What do you want me to do?”

“I wondered if you’d heard from Zoë.”

“Not since Christmas. She told me off because I couldn’t make it home.”

His mother laughed—a forced laugh, but at least she sounded more in control. “Zoë was furious with you. She sulked for days.”

“Which makes it unlikely I’d hear from her,” Matt said in an even tone, ignoring the fact that Zoë had filled his thoughts every day since.

“I know, but it was worth a try. Matt, I’m so worried. Since Christmas, she’s been acting very strangely. Ring me if you hear from her.”

“Sure, Mum. Don’t worry. Zoë is an adult. You have to let her make her own decisions. Her own mistakes.” Shit, he didn’t want to think of Zoë. And definitely not as an adult. Thoughts of adults led to thinking of the things they did. Together. Hell, he’d thought he’d got over this thing for Zoë. A hickey for God’s sake. A hickey implied more togetherness than he was comfortable knowing about Zoë’s love life.

“Matt? Are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m working long hours.” A yawn punctuated his statement.

“Go to bed, dear.”

“Good idea,” Matt said, relaxing a little at the idea of Marisa waiting for him. Naked. Warm, willing feminine flesh. Maybe he could hold his fatigue at bay for long enough to enjoy Marisa.

After promising to contact them if Zoë rang, Matt hung up. He rotated one shoulder, aware of the tension inside. Matt groaned, a low, pained sound. He’d wanted Zoë in a sexual way since the day of her nineteenth birthday. Like a bolt of lightning, it had hit him without warning, bringing confusion and guilt. The feeling was just as strong three years later. And still forbidden.

A sea between them wasn’t helping. Perhaps he’d try London . Maybe an ocean or two would do the trick.

Matt stared at a silky black top. He picked it up and rubbed the sumptuous material between his fingers. Suddenly, his tiredness dropped away. He loosened his tie and tugged it off, draping it over the back of a cream leather chair along with Marisa’s top. Nimble fingers undid the buttons on his pale blue business shirt. The shirt joined the top and tie. Matt slipped into his bedroom.

The room was in total darkness, the whisper of breathing the only audible noise. Matt smiled. He stripped his trousers and boxer shorts off and placed them beside the bed. Matt tugged back the covers and crawled into bed. Marisa was lying on her side, facing away from him. Matt slid closer, smoothing his hand across her shoulder. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her bare back. She smelled of flowers—carnations to be exact. Nice. Different from Marisa’s usual spicy perfume. He liked this one much better.

Matt nuzzled behind her ear, and she stirred with a sleepy sigh. Smiling, he pressed a kiss to the smooth skin and stroked his hand down her arm and across her hip. She murmured again, starting to rouse. Good, cause he was definitely beginning to stir, his cock pressing insistently against her curvy backside. Time to rev up this interlude. Matt slipped a finger into the valley between her butt cheeks and traced a path toward her pussy. Her warm flesh parted. She sighed and spread her legs a fraction, just enough that he was able to graze his finger across her clitoris. She moved again, pressing her luscious ass against his swollen cock. Marisa had put on a bit of weight. He liked it. Matt massaged her clit with soft, gentle strokes until the tiny bud swelled. Marisa stirred again and froze. Then, she let out a shriek loud enough to wake the dead in the local cemetery and leapt from the bed.

“Keep away from me.” The note of fear told Matt she wasn’t playing games.

“I’ll get the light.”

“No! Just go, and I won’t tell anyone.”

Matt froze in the act of reaching for the light. His gut churned with acute apprehension. He knew that voice. Suddenly, all the new things he’d noticed about Marisa made sense.

With a sick and sinking sensation in his stomach, Matt stood and fumbled with the bedside lamp. Soft light bathed the masculine room. He swore, low with feeling. “What are you doing here, Zoë?”

Instead of answering, Zoë stared at him with big, brown eyes. When her gaze dropped, Matt cursed again and reached for his trousers, rapidly stepping into them and forcing the zipper over his erection.

“Put some clothes on.” There was a distinct snap in his voice. Self-loathing sat heavily in the bottom of his gut. His mother and John would die of shock if they found out. They weren’t going to find out. He sure as hell wasn’t going to confess to his monumental cock-up.

“I’ll make coffee.” He strode from the room but couldn’t resist a last look at Zoë. She caught him in the act, and he jerked as if touched with a hot poker. Matt swore. Zoë’s curvy image was seared on his retinas for life.

Instead of making coffee, Matt strode across the terracotta tiles and headed straight for his liquor cupboard in the ultra modern kitchen. He opened the door and pulled out the first bottle that came to hand. Whiskey. Unscrewing the cap, he drank straight from the bottle. A peaty flavor cut across his taste buds. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Mistake. Zoë’s sexy shape flashed in front of his eyes. He’d… Matt shuddered, still able to feel the warm, clinging flesh of her pussy even though he wasn’t touching her any longer.

“Do you grope every woman you find in your bed?” Zoë demanded.

“It’s my bed,” he snapped, his eyes flicking open. Zoë wore his robe belted around her trim waist. Shit, he wasn’t the one in the wrong here. He was the innocent victim in this… debacle. “You were naked.”

“Because the airline lost my luggage,” Zoë said, folding her arms across her chest. His eyes followed the move, noting in the years since he’d last seen Zoë, she’d filled out in a spectacular fashion. His cock jerked in displeasure, reminding Matt he required satisfaction. But that wasn’t going to happen—not with a woman at any rate.

“Why did you leave your clothes all over the place?’ Matt demanded, trying to wrest control of the interrogation from Zoë.

“Do you have sex with all the naked women you find in your bed?” The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten the plump curves of her lips. Matt followed the innocent move with avid attention. He’d forgotten how beautiful Zoë was with her tangle of long dark curls hanging loose around her shoulders, her deep brown eyes, olive skin and sexy, kissable lips. Wild child. Matt shook himself from the sensual spell, but his palms itched with the need to touch.

“Matt?”

“What?” Concentrate, dammit. “I’m asking the questions here.”

Zoë ignored his question. “Touching me was no big deal. I’ve had sex before. I won’t tell tales.”

Matt realized his mouth had dropped open and snapped it shut. He’d lost control of this situation the minute he’d realized he’d had his hands all over his stepsister. “I thought you were Marisa,” he snarled. “What the hell else was I meant to think when I arrived home to find a trail of clothes leading to my bedroom?”

“Marisa?” Her bottom lip quivered.

“My girlfriend.”

“Looks like she stood you up.” The hurt expression disappeared, replaced by an enigmatic one. An impish smile glinted in her eyes. “I’m going back to bed. You coming?”

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CAPTURED AND SEDUCED by Shelley Munro

CAPTURED AND SEDUCED by Shelley Munro

House of the Cat Series

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

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

Murder. Betrayal. Banishment.

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

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

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Excerpt:

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

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

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

It was time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For all of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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MISTRESS OF MERRIVALE by Shelley Munro

MISTRESS OF MERRIVALE by Shelley Munro

A marriage of convenience…full of inconvenient secrets.
Jocelyn Townsend’s life as a courtesan bears no resemblance to the life she envisioned in girlish dreams. But it allows her and her eccentric mother to live in relative security—until her protector marries and no longer requires her services.

Desperate to find a new benefactor, one kind enough to accept her mother’s increasingly mad flights of fancy, Jocelyn is nearly overwhelmed with uncertainty when a lifeline comes from an unexpected source.

Leo Sherbourne’s requirements for a wife are few. She must mother his young daughter, run his household, and warm his bed. All in a calm, dignified manner with a full measure of common sense. After his late wife’s histrionics and infidelity, he craves a simpler, quieter life.

As they embark on their arrangement, Leo and Jocelyn discover an attraction that heats their bedroom and a mutual admiration that warms their days. But it isn’t long before gossip regarding the fate of Leo’s first wife, and his frequent, unexplained absences, make Jocelyn wonder if the secrets of Merrivale Manor are rooted in murder…

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~Excerpt~

London, 1758

“M-married?” Jocelyn Townsend clamped her hands in her lap and frantically sought the right words for the occasion. “Congratulations.”

Tobias Sherbourne, the Earl of Melburn, beamed. Happiness lit his craggy face, taking it from ordinary to compelling. His eyes sparkled, the bright blue emphasized by his snowy white wig. “I’ve offered for the Neville girl.”

“I wish you happy, Melburn.” Jocelyn’s spine pressed against the back of the damask sofa, the squeeze of her stays grounding her again. Gossip and rumors had circulated for months now. Yes, she’d known Melburn’s declaration would come, but hearing it still hurled her into panic. She wanted to vent her frustration for everyone to witness, but of course, she didn’t. Her mother was the only person who shrieked in this household.

She picked up the teapot. “Tea? Or would you prefer something stronger?”

“Brandy, please.” Melburn straightened from his casual lean against the mantle.

A raucous feminine screech pierced the air and tea sloshed from the spout. Jocelyn sighed inwardly, forcing her smile to remain intact while she set the china pot down. Not again. “Perhaps we would both benefit from something stronger.”

She rose and maneuvered her skirts around her mahogany table and a square-backed chair to ring for a maid. The high-pitch scream repeated, louder and closer to the parlor. Jocelyn flinched, shooting a pained look at the closed door.

On her return, Melburn took possession of the seat opposite her, his large frame dwarfing the delicate furniture. “How is your mother?”

One would think the ear-piercing shrieks were nothing out of the ordinary, given his calm demeanor but, after two years as her protector, her mother’s peculiarities no longer disturbed him.

A maid appeared, and Jocelyn relayed her request for a bottle of brandy and two glasses. It mightn’t be the thing for a woman to drink strong spirits, yet if ever there was a time for her to imbibe, it was tonight. The maid’s face blanked, although she curtseyed in acquiescence and hurried off to complete her errand.

“My mother is having a bad turn. She insists someone is watching the house and spying on us.” It was a relief to share the latest drama with Melburn.

“Have you investigated to allay her concerns?”

Jocelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “We have been more vigilant than usual. I haven’t noticed anyone suspicious and neither has Woodley or Tilly, but Mother is steadfast in her charges.”

Her butler and her mother’s nurse were equally adamant no one lurked in the alley outside their Cork Street house. While it wasn’t the best location in London, a night watchman patrolled the surrounding streets, and lamps chased away most of the gloomy shadows once evening fell.

The maid returned with a tray bearing the requested brandy.

“Would you like to adjourn to the bedroom, Melburn?”

“No, Jocelyn. I—”

Jocelyn leaned closer and covered his hand with hers, halting his refusal. “It’s a love match. I understand.” His bergamot and spice scent washed over her, familiar and comforting. He was a good man and a spurt of envy chased through her. Silently, she acknowledged her loss and the difficulties she’d experience in finding another protector of his caliber—someone she could trust not to abuse her.

“Ashleigh is a wonderful woman. I wouldn’t see her hurt by spiteful gossip.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you. It was a lucky day for me when you won me from Boynton.” And even better he’d become a friend as well as her lover.

Melburn’s eyes narrowed. “The man is a brute. The minute I saw the bruise on your cheek, my course of action was clear. Besides”—the tension in his upper body eased—“I like your red hair.” He reached over to tug on an unfashionable red ringlet, grinning at her like an errant boy.

“Thank you.” Her words acknowledged far more than the compliment. He’d rescued her from a bad situation and, for that, she’d always be grateful. She poured a measure of brandy and handed it to him before taking a smaller portion for herself. An abrupt ear-piercing shriek right outside the parlor made her wince. “Perhaps I should attend to my mother.”

Melburn set his glass on the mahogany table. “Let me. I’ll take a lantern and check outside in the alley. Help set her mind to rest.”

Reality crashed over Jocelyn as she watched him stride from the parlor and disappear into the hall, the door shutting behind him. This really was the end of their relationship. She’d miss his caring ways and passionate lovemaking. The Neville girl was lucky, and Jocelyn tamped down her envy. She fingered her gold locket and fought her growing agitation. A shiver crawled down her spine when she considered a search for a new protector.

No one could call her beautiful, and the last thing she wanted was to make another mistake, yet time would be of the essence because living in London was expensive. She was certain Melburn would give her a parting gift, yet even so, she’d have to tighten her purse strings until she found a suitable replacement.

The rise and fall of an emotional diatribe pierced the door. Jocelyn sipped her brandy and pulled a face at the harsh bite. At least the burn pierced the chill inhabiting her body. Her mother’s crying ceased, and a reassuring masculine voice filled the silence. She couldn’t decipher the words but knew Melburn would offer comfort. It was his way. The respite allowed Jocelyn to ponder her predicament. Even if she located a protector, finding one who accepted her mother’s presence would prove nigh on impossible.

She could approach her sisters… No, Georgina and Charlotte barely acknowledged her these days. They wanted to send their mother to Bedlam. Jocelyn hated to think of her one remaining parent incarcerated in the hospital, treated like an entertaining exhibit for those who possessed the price of admission. Her mind raced, attempting to fashion a workable solution. She drank more brandy, allowing the spirit to chase away her growing disquiet.

Ten minutes later, the door opened, and the earl entered the parlor. His cheeks were ruddy from the nippy spring evening.

“Did you discover anything unusual?” Jocelyn asked.

“Not apart from an old tomcat lurking in the alley. I informed your mother of my findings.” He sent her a rueful grin. “She decided she’d scared the spy away with her warning cries.”

“Thank you.” Another burst of fancy on her mother’s part.

Melburn sat again, a man with something on his mind, given the way he darted a searching look at her and toyed with his brandy. “What will you do now?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll look for your replacement.” She pulled a face, then let him know she bore no malice by adding a smile. After all, their involvement was basically a business proposition. She’d offered the use of her body in exchange for his financial support. The easy camaraderie between them had come as a bonus. “It won’t be easy to find someone who suits my situation.”

“I might have an answer to your problem.” He hesitated as if he was unsure about his solution.

“Tell me. I’d like to think we’re at least friends after all this time.”

Melburn paused a fraction longer before appearing to come to a decision. “My cousin, Leo Sherbourne, requires a wife.”

A shocked gasp escaped her. “But I’m a courtesan. I—”

“You’re not a courtesan by choice.”

“Well, no but—”

“Think about it. Marrying Leo would give you an opportunity to start afresh.”

Most men wanted to distance themselves from their ex-mistresses. Jocelyn frowned at his quiet insistence, questions flying through her mind. “I see the benefits for me, but what about your cousin? What does he gain from such a match? Why would you want me to join your family? What if your betrothed learns of our shared history?”

“Leo lost his wife last year. He has a daughter, and he finds himself in want of a wife.”

Jocelyn’s brows rose. “Surely he could hire a nursemaid?”

“There are unusual circumstances that make a wife the better solution.”

“What unusual circumstances?” Jocelyn wasn’t sure she liked Melburn thrusting her into the middle of a mystery. “How can I make a decision if you don’t give me the full facts?”

“Jocelyn, it’s not my story to tell. I’m merely acting as Leo’s agent in this matter, gauging a sense of your interest. What I can tell you is that my cousin is a good man. He’s trustworthy. He won’t beat or degrade you.”

The chance of a new start wasn’t something that occurred every day. “What about my mother? Where does your cousin live?”

“Leo knows of your situation.”

“That wasn’t what I meant. Is your cousin willing to give my mother his protection?”

“He wants to meet with you tomorrow morning,” Melburn said. “If you’re agreeable, you can ask your questions then.”

Jocelyn drank the last of her brandy and set her glass aside. She laughed lightly. “Very well, you wretched man. You’ve piqued my interest with your suggestion, and you know it. I’ll meet with your cousin here at eleven tomorrow morning.”

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