Showing posts with label Single-Author Anthology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Single-Author Anthology. Show all posts

Sunday, December 11, 2011

COWBOYS IN CHARGE by Starla Kaye

COWBOYS IN CHARGE by Starla Kaye

Includes seven stories of strong, loving cowboys and the women who try their patience. These are romantic stories with a touch of domestic discipline/spanking.

SNOWED IN WITH HER COWBOY
James wants Kelly to quit work and start a family, but she resists the idea. Will he give up the idea of a family or will he give up Kelly?

TOO MUCH RED AT CHRISTMAS TIME
Lizzie has a bizarre addiction to Christmas shopping and she can’t help herself, even knowing she will face the wrath of her husband who believes in domestic discipline.

FOR THE LOVE OF HIS COWGIRL
Amber misses the fun little games she and Adam used to play. There never seems to be time for steamy sex, or even the spankings he’d occasionally given her for various infractions of rules or for misbehavior. Can she entice him back; get the dwindling fires of their love going again?

COWBOYS AND THEIR TOYS
Jennifer loves Jason and she’d trusted him as he’d led her into the BDSM lifestyle. But now he wants to take things to a more intense level and she’s balking at it. Will she lose him if she doesn’t agree to go 24/7?

Plus three more equally hot stories of cowboys and the women they love.

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

Excerpt:
Snowed in with Her Cowboy

“If you won’t quit your job, at least take a couple of weeks off before Christmas.” James walked into the bedroom carrying a cup of coffee for the woman he loved, the woman who frustrated the hell out of him lately. “There’s no way you can keep the community commitments you’ve made and work forty plus hours a week. You’re already dragging around, cranky.”

Kelly peeked at him from the walk-in closet, a frown marring her pretty face. “I don’t want to talk about this again. I’m not quitting.”

“You don’t even like working there,” he reminded her. How many times had she complained over the last six months about her impossible-to-please boss, about the other women in the office who were always trying to backstab one another. She’d taken the job at Smithson’s Architects because she didn’t want her skills as an architect to fade away. He hadn’t liked her going back to work, but he’d wanted her to be happy. She wasn’t, though, which meant they weren’t happy.

“Kelly, honey…” He hesitated because he didn’t want to fight with her, especially before she went into Kansas City for another long day of work.

“Don’t ‘Kelly, honey’me!” She stepped back into the closet. “We are not discussing this again! I’m not doing this to trample on your ego, cowboy. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”

After three years of marriage, he had a pretty good handle on his wife. She liked her independence, and he gave her as much as possible. She spoke her mind without much thought first, which he also tolerated for the most part. She was easily twice as smart as him in many ways, which he admired. Her biggest flaw was once she made a decision, she stuck to it even if that decision proved to be a bad one. Like this job. He was tired of watching her come home exhausted from the tension of a frustrating day at the office and the hour drive back to the ranch.

“You’re wrong.” He set the steaming cup of coffee on the dresser next to the door. “This is about both of us. You’re my wife, dammit. It’s my job to watch out for you, to step in when you’re--”

“Watch it, macho boy!” She stormed out of the closet and tossed a skirt and blouse on the rumpled bed. Her brown eyes sparked with fire as she faced him. “I don’t have time for you to go all Head of the Household on me this morning. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.”

He curled his hands into fists at his sides. She’s tired. She’s stressed. But, damn, so am I! “Watch yourself, darlin’. You’re pushing this old boy right to his limits.”

Her eyes continued to flash with irritation, her posture rigid. Then slowly her lower lip quivered. Tears glimmered in those weary eyes. She slumped and all of the spit and fire went right out of her. “James…”

What the hell? Her sudden change surprised him. In an instant he moved in front of her. His arms went around her and he clutched her to him. He could stand a lot of rough things in life, but the sight of his woman in tears gut punched him. Tears after he spanked her for one reason or another was different, those he expected and understood. For any other reason, though, they unmanned him.

He felt helpless. “Baby, I’m sorry.” He stroked her bare back, smoothed his hand over the wavy mass of long dark hair. Its silkiness, its sweet scent always got to him. But not anymore than the feel of her much smaller body in only lacy bra and panties did. His erection beneath his jeans immediately pressed between them. “It’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay.” How, he didn’t know.

She snuggled even closer, trembling. “I don’t deserve you.”

These highs and lows in her mood, her tiredness, her lack of appetite suddenly reminded him of something his brother¬in-law had once said about James’ sister. “A pregnant woman can really try a man’s patience sometimes.” His heart pounded and he fought to keep his excitement under control. He’d wanted this for so damn long. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.

Kelly stiffened. “What?” She shoved him away. Her plump breasts heaved in anger. “Of course I’m not pregnant!”

While disappointment crawled through him, she stomped toward the dresser and jerked out a pair of hose and a slip. She tossed them on the bed beside her clothes. “I don’t want kids right now. Maybe never. We’ve talked about this.”

They had, before they got married and many times since then. She was great with kids; she’d make a good mother. But her complicated family history kept her from wanting to have a child. He’d tried to be patient, and hoped she would change her mind. Again disappointment and hurt spread through him. His patience was on its last leg. She didn’t like her job. If she stayed home she could try that quilting stuff she’d talked about wanting to do. Or she could… He didn’t know what else, but anything had to be better than working where she did now. And if she stayed home, maybe she’d soften toward the idea of having kids.

Her face was pinched tightly as she met him eye to eye. “Get that thought out of your head right now.” When he started to protest, she forged onward, “Don’t even try to deny it. You still think having me run around here bare foot and pregnant is the answer to my problem. God, that’s sooo chauvinistic!”

Now he stood stiffly, tired to death of her calling him that. “It’s not wrong for me to want children with you. We’d make great parents.”

“You might, but I won’t.” The words came out briskly, yet he heard the pain in her voice. She was afraid to take the chance.

He ran a hand through his hair. He just didn’t know how to get through to her about this subject. She wasn’t anything like her pitifully selfish mother. No matter how many times he tried to tell her that, she resisted. They’d discussed this last week and she’d almost left him. He’d been biting his tongue and acting as understanding as he could since then. No way was he losing her, even if he had to give up the idea of having kids.

Frustration made him reckless. “You’re PMSing, aren’t you?” He groaned at his stupidity.

Her eyes narrowed. “Because I’m not the sweet, biddable little woman you think I should be?” She huffed. “So what is your excuse for the changes in your attitude lately? Grouchy one minute, walking away the next. All kissy face one minute, turning away the next. Maybe you are the one PMSing.”

He drew in deep, steadying breaths. This was really not going well. He should have gone on out to do his chores instead of bringing her a cup of coffee. Coffee that had probably turned cold by now. His efforts to be patient with her and not force another argument were straining things between them. His wanting to be tender with her and not pushy when she didn’t seem to want to pursue making love had also failed. Enough!

“We need to deal with this tension between us.” He glanced at the bed.

“We are not having sex right now. Just forget that nonsense.” She started to walk toward the attached bathroom.

James grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “No, we aren’t making love right now.” He purposely didn’t say ‘having sex’ because that word choice irritated him. “But I’m going to take care of someone’s attitude problem.”

He tugged her with him to the bed, even as she attempted to dig in her heels on the rug. “This is happening, darlin’. Your resisting is only going to make it more unpleasant.”

Kelly’s heart pounded, her whole body thrummed in anticipation. Her husband was going to spank her.

She’d pushed him to the breaking point this time. How had this gotten so out of control? She hadn’t meant to attack him. Her head hurt, her heart hurt. Everything in her life seemed to be wrong at the moment. Her job. Their marriage. It was Christmas time and she usually loved this part of the year. This year it was yet another burden to bear.

James sat down on the side of the bed and drew her to his side, jerking her from her musings. “This isn’t necessary,” she said and looked anxiously at him. The sad expression on his ruggedly handsome face made her feel even worse. She loved this man with all of her heart, and yet lately all she seemed to do was argue with him and cause him pain.

“I think it is.” He guided her over his hard thighs. “It’s been a while since I’ve burned your butt. Usually it calms you down. I’m hoping it will again.”

Yes, she’d calm down. At least she would have something else to think about instead of all this mess. Resigned, she wriggled forward until she could put her hands on the rug. Her bottom rested on his right leg; her mound pressed against his jeans, separated only by the thin panties. “I’ve got to work today. Can’t you wait until tonight?”

One of his hands rolled the panties off her buttocks and she tensed. “No.”

She hadn’t expected him to change his mind, he never did once he’d decided to spank her. She would have to deal with a sore ass. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to suffer a spanking before work and then spend the day squirming on her chair. Still, she would rather not have had to experience it again.

“Do you know why you’re getting spanked?” He settled his left forearm over her back and lightly tapped one bare cheek with his other hand.

Her buttocks quivered, clenched. “I don’t have time to drag this out.” She could imagine his frown at her whiny protest. He liked to go through this whole why thing ad nauseum so that she understood what she’d done wrong. Once the discussion part was over he would remind her that he only disciplined her for her own good. Uh-huh. Then came the spanking.

“Just spank me like you think I need,” she said a little too forcefully.

The smack that landed sent her jerking forward, had the air gasping out of her. “Okay! I’m sorry!” she cried. “I know this isn’t how you like to do this. But I have to get to work.”

He was quiet for a few seconds and then he blew out a frustrated breath. He lifted his arm from her back. “I guess this can wait until tonight.”

Tonight? Dread this all day? No, thank you. “No, no, no,” she protested, craning her head to look back at him. “I’m already here in position, ready to accept the spanking. I don’t want to be thinking about it all day. Please, just do it.”

Love for her warmed his eyes, which only made her feel worse for having pushed him to this point. But resignation had him nodding. “We’ve done this a time or two before you went to work. Guess you’ll be able to deal with a sore butt this time, too.”

She lowered her head as he held her in place again. If she didn’t love and respect him so much, she wouldn’t have agreed to this kind of marriage, to the occasional discipline.

With wicked aim, James sent smack after smack down to her vulnerable bottom. She gritted her teeth and took her spanking with as much grace as possible. But it didn’t take long before he got her to the point of understanding—or so he called it. He burned her bottom until she couldn’t lie still, until she couldn’t keep stoically quiet. He took her right to the point where she swore between sobs, “I’ll…I’ll behave better! I promise! I promise!”

A minute later she stood in front of him, between his legs, holding her hot, stinging bottom. Yes, she would have a tough day ahead, but at least she didn’t have to spend all day thinking about going over his knee tonight. She gently rubbed at the sting, which never really helped.

His expression had softened again now that he’d done what he’d thought necessary. He never apologized for spanking her, but she knew he didn’t enjoy doing it. She held herself still as he reached up to thumb away the tears still trickling down her face.

“Are we okay?”

“I’ve got a burning ass, but…” She sniffled and gave him a wobbly smile. “But, yes, we’re okay.”

* * * *

James stood by the fireplace and sadness moved over him. Where had the time gone this month? This year? Christmas was only a couple of days away. He and Kelly hadn’t fought since the spanking. She’d settled down, but her normal Christmas vigor was missing.

He stared at the Christmas tree he’d cut down this morning and hauled back to the house with the help of his ranch foreman. Tom hadn’t said a word as they’d put the tree up and then toted box after box of decorations down from the attic. This was the first year Kelly hadn’t picked out a tree and helped him with the hauling and the decorating. It didn’t feel right to do this alone but they needed a tree. He knew how busy she was, how stressed she’d been. If all he could do to help her was put up their tree, he was more than glad to do it.

He stepped back to study the tree that sat by the stone fireplace. Had he hung too many lights? Not enough? Had he put on the ornaments she liked best? This wasn’t his expertise, but he wanted to do it right for Kelly. He wanted to take at least one of the usual tasks she performed at Christmas time off of her shoulders. She’d spent several evenings this past week baking cookies for the ranchers’ party and another one helping wrap presents for the community party last weekend. Plus they’d gone caroling with their church group one night and gone to a couple of get-togethers with neighbors. Between those long nights she’d worked extra hours at her job and squeezed in some shopping, which he’d done very little of. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he hadn’t known what she wanted this year. Usually she gave him all kinds of hints. This year she hadn’t said a word, not left one note around for him to find.

The pine scent drifted around him, made him miss Kelly. They hadn’t had another argument since the morning he’d spanked her. She’d been calmer since then, as usually happened after he helped tone down the craziness in her behavior. But he’d been right about the PMSing thing, so they hadn’t made love yet. Fact was, he worried about them. She hadn’t said anything, but he felt an uncomfortable distance between them. He wasn’t sure they were okay, even if she’d told him they were after he’d burned her sweet butt.

He glanced out the window overlooking the ranch yard and frowned. It had started snowing not long after she’d left for the city this morning. He’d spent most of the day worrying about her. She was a good driver, but you never knew what could happen driving in snow. What he should have done was go into the city and get her. She’d probably have been irritated with him. No “probably” to it, she’d have been pissed. How many times had she told him, “I can take care of myself”?

His cellphone rang and he blinked back to the moment. He pulled it from the holder on his belt. Seeing Kelly’s number, his heart pounded. “Are you all right?” he asked in a rush.

“Yes, but...” She hesitated and he thought he might have a stroke while he waited for her to continue.

“But what?” He strode out of the great room and headed for his coat in the entry area.

“I left work early. I would have been home by now, but I sort of slid off the side of the highway.”

He froze, felt the blood draining from his face. “Are you hurt?” He mentally kicked himself for letting her leave this morning when he’d heard on the news that snow was headed their way.

“I’m fine. Just have a bruise on my forehead from where I hit my head on the steering wheel. No big deal.” She drew in a breath and said warily, “Aman stopped to help me back onto the road. But there was some damage to my car. My front bumper hit a big rock in the ditch. It’s not too bad, though, I promise.”

He punched Speaker and set his phone down on the hall table while he pulled his heavy coat on.

He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but he needed to get to her. In his near-panicked state, he recalled what she’d just said, heard the worry in her voice. “I could care less about the damn car. You are all that matters to me.”

She gave a weak sob and he felt almost certain it was one of relief. The thought that she might think he would be angry with her hurt him. Nothing mattered more to him than her. Nothing. “Are you on your way now?” Was she talking to him on her phone while driving in this snowstorm? He almost snapped at her about that, but caught himself. She was driving, but he had to let that go. She was determined to get home to him. It humbled him. “Pull over, darlin’, and tell me where you are. I’m coming for you.”

She gave a quick sniff, and he knew she was trying to cover up that she was crying. “I’m only a few miles away. I…I can make it.”

“I don’t think I can wait for you. I need to…” He pulled in a breath. Have faith in her. For some reason, he believed she needed to make her way home on her own. It would be as hard as hell, but he would let her do it. “I’ll be watching for you.”

Kelly had never in her life been as scared as when her Honda CRV went into a skid on a patch of ice. Thank God she’d been almost crawling along the highway, like all of the other cars. The SUV had spun in a slow circle and then slid down the side of the road, stopping at the bottom of the short ditch where she’d hit a good-sized boulder. Her heart was still racing. She’d been fortunate one of the other cars had pulled over and a kindly older man had helped her. He’d offered to follow her home, but she’d told him she could manage.

She turned onto the gravel road leading to the ranch. Tears streamed down her face. Almost there. James would be waiting for her, watching from the porch no doubt. She’d heard the worry in his voice and had known he wanted to come get her. He was always so determined to be the strong one, to take care of her. Including spanking her when she got snappy with him, or when she stubbornly went against him for whatever reason, or when she did something stupid. Like going to work when she’d heard on the early morning news about the snow coming and ignoring what the smart thing would have been to do: call in and say she wouldn’t be in today. If he wanted to turn her over his knee, she’d go willingly. She’d been stupid, endangered herself, gotten her car damaged, and—worst of all—needlessly worried her husband.

She’d made some decisions in the last few days, hopefully good ones. She just hoped that she hadn’t waited too long. If she lost James because of the horrible person she’d turned into lately… But he’d sounded so worried about her. He loved her. She would hold firmly to that belief and if necessary, do whatever she had to in order to make sure he still did. Her Christmas gifts to him this year were a bit out of the ordinary, but, hopefully, would be exactly what he wanted.

With a sigh of relief, she turned into the ranch yard. Every light on the barn and other buildings and the house were on, making her feel welcome. The dark afternoon no longer seemed so depressing. And there on the porch, just as she’d suspected, stood James. Her big, sometimes gruff, cowboy. So much love filled her. How had she ever been lucky enough to find him? Why he’d wanted her, stuck by her, still wanted her, amazed her. He didn’t care about her past or the kind of horrible family she came from. None of that stuff mattered to him. How many times had he told her that? How many times had she been unable to believe him?

She pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. She watched James stride down the porch steps and walk quickly toward her, oblivious to the foot of snow he tromped through. He focused on her, only her. Her stomach fluttered. Her pulse raced. All she needed for the rest of her life was this very special man.

He tugged the car door open and leaned inside to kiss her. She trembled as his big, cold hands cupped her face. She kissed him back, put her hands on his beard-roughened face. Everything she’d gone through on this horrible day was forgotten. She was home now. With James.

He inched back and then before she knew what he was going to do, he scooped her up and out of the car. It wasn’t the first time he’d carried her, but it was the most precious time. The tender look in his eyes, the sheen of tears he’d held back because of her, touched her to the depth of her soul.

As he nudged the car door shut with his hip, she said quietly, “I love you. I know I don’t say that very often, but I do. I love you.”

He tromped back through the snow, up the steps, and into the house. He held her close and didn’t seem to care at all that snow was melting off his boots onto the tiled floor. “You don’t have to say the words, darlin’, I know.”

“But you deserve the words,” she protested, feeling guilty. She rarely said love, hadn’t trusted in the emotion. Until James.

“Actions show what you feel for me.” He slowly let her down. His gaze stayed locked with hers. “You turned this old house into a home, filled it with loving touches. Photos of my family, of you and me, on the mantle.” He grinned crookedly. “You bake me snickerdoodle cookies because I have a sweet tooth. You watch old Westerns with me, when I know you really don’t like them.”

He’d never told her these things meant anything to him, not that she did any of that to be praised. But she felt uncomfortable, knowing he’d done so much more for her from the moment they’d met. Needing a second to compose herself, she turned toward the great room. Then she really lost it.

“Oh, James,” she gasped, gaping at the decorated tree. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “You put up a tree for me.”

“For us. Having a Christmas tree is something that means a lot to both of us.”

She heard the gentleness in his voice. He was right. They’d enjoyed spending a cold day picking out the perfect tree each of the last two years. They teased each other over how to hang the lights just right. They fought—playfully—over who would put the angel on top of the tree. And hanging the decorations from his family and ones they had bought together meant a lot to her…to both of them. But he’d done it all by himself this year. For her.

Christmas was two days away and usually they exchanged their presents on Christmas Eve. But she couldn’t wait that long. Although she was nervous, she needed to give him her gifts now. At least some of them.

Heart pounding, she looked up at him. “Wait for me by the tree. Please. I have something I want to give you and I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“But…” He stopped protesting when she went up on tiptoes and kissed him silent.

She turned and jerked off her coat, thrusting it into his hands. Then she raced to the spare bedroom.

All James wanted to do was take Kelly to their bedroom and make love to her, over and over. He’d been so damn worried about her. He could have lost her, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.

He’d watched her smiling uncertainly at him before she hurried up the stairs. Instinct warned him something important was about to happen. Something far more than just exchanging gifts early.

Damn! Gifts! He still hadn’t wrapped the few presents he’d gotten Kelly. What the hell did he do now? No way was he going to accept something from her without giving something in return. The stupidest idea flashed into his head. Well, he was a man. Sometimes men got really dumb, desperate ideas.

Kelly carried three small wrapped gifts down the stairs. Would he think these ridiculous? She’d come up with this idea yesterday. What would he say? She almost turned around to go back and grab the other “real” presents she’d gotten him.

But the sound of soft Christmas music playing snagged her attention. Her favorite songs. Then she noticed that James had turned off all the lights in the lower part of the house except for the Christmas lights.

Curious and warmed by his thoughtfulness, she walked slowly closer. At first she didn’t spot him, since she was taking in the wonder of the beautifully decorated tree. Then he quietly coughed to draw her attention. She froze, stunned, and then laughed for the first time in far too long.

“Got to admit that wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for,” James grumped. He hastily reached for one of the throw pillows he’d put on the floor near him and held it across his lower body.

Struggling to stop giggling, to quit grinning like a fool, Kelly hurried to him. She dropped down on her knees beside her very naked, very tempting husband. She set her gifts to the side and pulled the pillow off him. His long, thick cock adorned with a red bow from the tree danced toward her. She took hold of it and smiled at his quiet groan of pleasure.

“Best gift ever.” She stroked the velvety softness of the steel-like rod. “I plan to spend a long time enjoying it later tonight.”

She glanced warily at the presents next to her. “I…I hope you like my gifts as much.”
James found it almost impossible to concentrate on anything but the way Kelly’s hand held his dick. He wanted to tumble her to the floor and spend hours and hours showing her how much he loved her. But he could tell she was nervous, worried about her gifts for him. When she released him to reach for the small boxes, he fought back a groan of complaint.

He shifted up into a sitting position and took the first red-wrapped present from her shaking hands. He waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he ripped off the paper. Lifting the top off the box, he pulled out a piece of paper carefully folded inside. I respectfully give my notice. December 23 will be my last day. There was more, clearly this was a copy of Kelly’s letter of resignation to her boss.

James was so damn happy he could have done one of those crazy happy dances.

“Stupid, huh?” She anxiously twisted her hands in her lap.

The job had been important to her so he held his happiness in check. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to pressure you, not really.”

Her chin jutted up. “It’s what I want. Are you okay with it, though? I know the extra money is nice.”

“Hell, yes, I’m okay!” He started to reach for her, but she thrust a second present at him.

He wanted to hug her…and so much more. Instead he opened the long, slender box, thinking it looked like a tie box, although he never wore ties. When he lifted the lid off the box, he blinked twice at the foot and a half long riding crop with a heart-shaped top.

As he held it up curiously, he noted his wife’s pink cheeks. “A crop? Really?”

She pursed her lips for a second and then said primly, “It’s supposed to deliver a ‘sweet surprise’for when I’ve been ‘very, very good.’At least that’s what the salesclerk told me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I bet it can deliver a stinging smack, too, when you’ve been very, very bad.”

She started to jerk it out of his hands, but he moved it out of her reach. “We’ll save it for those ‘very good’ times.” He nodded at her final wrapped package.

Looking relieved about what he’d said concerning the crop she handed him the last gift. Looking relieved about what he’d said She worried her lower lip and he sensed this one meant the most to her. He tore the paper away slowly, hoping he wouldn’t disappoint her with his reaction to whatever this was.

Seeming impatient now, she grabbed the box and yanked off the lid. She took the shredded pieces of paper out and thrust them at him. Then she closed her eyes and waited.

He glanced at a couple pieces before he finally realized what he held. He could barely speak as he said, “The prescription renewal for The Pill. You tore it up? Why?” He prayed he understood. He could barely contain his need to hug her to him.

Those beautiful, loving eyes of hers opened and she said timidly, “It’s time we had a baby.”

He didn’t care that he felt moisture on his face. This was a precious moment, one he’d thought might never happen. He held out his arms and she crawled onto his lap. “Best Christmas ever.”

She leaned back, thumbed away the tears from his cheeks. “No. The best Christmas ever was when we met at that party four years ago.”

He glanced out the window, noticed that the snow was falling even heavier now. He didn’t mind it at all. “Looks like we’re going to be snowed in here for a spell, darlin’.”

“Works for me.” She cuddled closer.

Worked for him, too.

LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

Thursday, September 30, 2010

THE BITE BEFORE CHRISTMAS by Heidi Betts

THE BITE BEFORE CHRISTMAS by Heidi Betts

Vampires turn to fanged and fabulous matchmaker extraordinaire Angelina Ricci to help them find that special someone to curl up with under the mistletoe in this charming (read: sexy) and delightful (read: funny) holiday collection by national bestselling author Heidi Betts. Because vampires need love, too. (Biting optional. Hot sex guaranteed.)

"All I Vant For Christmas"
Connor loves trimming the Christmas tree, baking gingerbread cookies, and hanging the mistletoe. But his vampire siblings won't help. His friend Angelina sends party planner Jillian to the rescue. But when Jillian, who's mortal, discovers she's decking the halls for a family of vampires, will she run - or will Connor have a beautiful woman to share the holidays with?

"A Vampire in Her Stocking"
When Vivian learns that her secret crush Nick is terminally ill, she's heartbroken. Confiding in Angelina, Vivian refuses to turn Nick into a vampire. Deciding to play Santa, Angelina changes Nick and leaves him wrapped in a red bow on Vivian's doorstep...

"It's A Wonderful Bite"
Although Angelina is happy with her boyfriend Sergio, she's ready for a commitment. After drinking eggnog and watching It's a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve, Angelina falls into a dream where she is mortal and Sergio isn't interested in her. Talk about the nightmare before Christmas! But Santa must have checked his list twice because this Christmas Angelina's wishes are coming true...

BUY THE BOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT

EXCERPT:


Vivian awoke in her own bed, under her own covers. The curtains were drawn to block out any sunlight, but even so, she knew it was nighttime; she could feel it.

A glance at digital clock glowing red on the bedside table told her it was a little after nine. Much later than she normally rose, but she’d had a rough couple of days. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere to go. Not anymore.

Head throbbing, stomach queasy from being empty for so long, she pushed to her feet and forced herself across the room to the bathroom, then down the hall to the kitchen. She started a pot of coffee, not even sure she would be able to drink it, before going to the refrigerator and pulling out an unopened bottle of B-positive.

The weakness in her limbs, dryness in her eyes and mouth, and throbbing in the gums around her elongated incisors all told her she needed to feed, but darned if she could work up the appetite for it.

Fate was too cruel, she thought, twisting the cap off the bottle of synthetic plasma and bringing it reluctantly to her lips.

Here she was, completely immortal, with no chance of dying in the near future unless she fell on a stake or opened her blinds at high noon. While across town, an all too mortal man was facing a certain death, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Well, she could, as Angelina had suggested before leaving her alone with her misery and heartbreak, but he wouldn’t thank her for it if she did.

Tipping back the bottle of blood, she made herself swallow. Gulp after gulp, the thick metallic liquid slid down her throat. And it did make her feel better, relieving a bit of the dizziness and lethargy pulling at her.

When the bottle was empty, she moved to the sink, gave it a quick rinse, and added it to the recycle bin. The coffee was almost ready now, and she would drink a cup of that, too. After all, in higher doses, caffeine had the same effect on vamps as it did on humans, and she could use a touch of artificial pick-me-up.

She had a mug in one hand, creamer in the other, when a sound from the other room caught her attention. Her mind, sluggish as it was, raced to identify the noise.

She lived alone, so it wasn’t a roommate. And she spent so much time at work that she didn’t even have a pet–though maybe she should consider getting one now that she was short on both a job and a romantic obsession.

Could it be Angelina? Had she come back? Or perhaps she was still here and only Vivian’s scattered state had made her think her friend had left at all.

The noise came again, lower and longer this time. It sounded like . . . was she imagining things? . . . a moan.

Setting the mug and creamer on the counter, she started slowly for the living room, tugging the edges of her robe tighter together and retying the sash.

The room was dark except for the glowing lights of the Christmas tree in the corner. She’d decorated it herself just after Thanksgiving, taking absurd pleasure in the placement of each ornament and every floss-like strand of tinsel.

But she didn’t need light to see. Thanks to the vamp in her, her vision was twenty-twenty, and even better in the dark.

The problem was, she didn’t see anything. Just her living room . . . thick mauve carpeting, rarely used fireplace, sofa and matching armchair, and the wall of windows lining the entire West side of her apartment.

Yes, she knew it was odd–a vampire living in a penthouse, surrounded by glass that increased her chances of sun exposure by about eighty percent. But even though she had to keep the shades tightly drawn throughout the day, the view at night was spectacular.

Living here also made her feel more normal, more a part of the human race instead of one that was thought to spend most of its time underground or sleeping in coffins.

That same low moan came again and she stepped farther into the room, rounding the end table at the foot of the sofa–and jerked to a halt. Her eyes widened, heart speeding up in her chest.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed. She felt frozen in place, unable to move.

Sean lay sprawled on the sofa, taking up every inch of the off-white space. His eyes were closed in what she hoped was simply deep sleep. His clothes–a pair of worn jeans and a dark green sweater–were rumpled and his sandy blond hair stuck out in every direction.

And draped across his chest like a beauty pageant sash was a wide red ribbon, complete with giant bow.

One corner of a large white envelope was tucked underneath, just over his heart. She slid it free, careful not to disturb him. Inside was a card with Snoopy and the rest of the Peanuts gang standing around Charlie Brown’s legendary twig of a tree, singing a Christmas carol.

Vivian opened the card. Scrawled in large, flowing script were the words Merry Christmas. Enjoy your present. It was signed simply A.

“Oh, no,” she murmured, closing the card and dropping it to the coffee table in front of the couch. “What did you do?”

She wasn’t sure if she was asking an invisible Angelina or herself, but a sinking feeling was beginning to churn in her gut.

Sinking down beside the sofa, she ran her gaze over Sean’s still form. He looked all right. Unconscious and slightly the worse for wear, but his lips were rosy instead of blue, and his skin still retained a hint of color rather than being the porcelain white of someone no longer shuffling along the mortal coil.

Though shallow and slow, his chest was rising and falling as he drew air into his lungs. Which didn’t exactly allay her fears. On the one hand, breathing was good. On the other, it only meant he wasn’t dead, not that he wasn’t undead.

Vampires breathed in and out the same as everyone else. It wasn’t necessary; they could go a millennia without oxygen, if circumstances warranted it. But it was as easy to continue breathing as to stop, and it allowed them to blend in more easily without looking like mannequins or drawing sometimes unwanted attention to themselves.

Taking a deep breath herself–one she really did feel she needed to brace herself–she lifted a hand and carefully turned his face away from her. A low moan rolled past his lips, and she paused, waiting to see if he was about to wake up. When his jaw remained slack against her fingers, she reluctantly lowered her gaze to the side of his throat.

And there they were. Two perfectly round puncture marks just over his jugular. The holes were still tinged red, but well on their way to being healed.

With a long, heartfelt groan, she released his chin and dropped her head to the edge of the sofa.

“Dammit, Angelina,” she muttered into the thick cushion. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

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Saturday, August 21, 2010

BENEATH TRABER SKIES by April Reid

BENEATH TRABER SKIES
A Collection of Erotic Romances by April Reid

Come to the planet Traber where The Sultan’s Revenge turns hate to love, The Dragon’s Choice affects two lovers and the destiny of their nations, and shapeshifter mates in Deadly Desires must overcome an evil curse or die.

The Sultan’s Revenge:
The princess of a captive nation is determined to destroy the conqueror of her land, but hate turns to love—a love threatened by betrayal and deceit.

The Dragon’s Choice:
Shimmara, chosen as the sacrificial bride of the dragon king secretly desires Rion, her bodyguard. Tonight she will be chained to the sacred Bride's Pillar and wait for the dragon king to claim his bride. Tonight, she will die. Rion is determined to fight to his death for Shimmara, even though doing so will reveal a secret that can tear them apart.

Deadly Desires:
When Kayla is chosen by the sultan to be his life-mate, she willingly bonds with him, but conceals her ability to shapeshift. Will she help Tariq break his family curse or become the first victim of the sultan’s Deadly Desires?

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Excerpt from The Sultan's Revenge:

“You have made your choice.” Abruptly, he strode to the door, shot home the bolt, then returned to her. “Let the lessons begin.”

He swept her into his arms, his battle-hardened muscles holding her easily. His mouth captured hers as he strode to the divan. She yielded to him. Her blood raced through her veins, heating her breasts and making them more sensitive to his touch. He brushed away the pile of loose pillows on the brocade cover, and placed her on the padded surface.

Every inch of her body responded to his nearness, drowning out the small voice reminding her she was in the arms of her enemy.

He stretched out on the divan, half over her, his mouth on hers, greedy and demanding. She opened her lips to his—to accept the thrust of his tongue. He kissed her with a blazing male hunger, as if he wanted to draw her very essence into his—as if he couldn’t get close enough.

She couldn’t help responding to his need—to the wild rawness that called to everything in her that was primitive and female. Her own passion ignited. She kissed him back, clinging to him, her fingers gripping the muscles in his bare shoulders.

His lips left hers to press against her throat, while his one hand stroked her skin from under the curve of her breasts down to the thin fabric covering her yoni. With each sweep, his fingers moved closer to her tight, sensitive nipples, then on the down sweep, dove under her waistband and fingered the curls just above her throbbing slit.

She moved her hips restlessly. A great aching need built between her legs, deep in her womb. Visions of cool fire danced in her mind. Dimly, she heard the soft, gong of the metal bowl on the table near the bench. Her captive’s chain bracelet stung her with a flash of heat. Hastily, she strengthened her mental walls against her sensitivity to metals.

In that brief moment, Khalid’s lips left her mouth. He kissed the tip of one nipple. The exquisite sensation flew through her blood like lightning across the mountain skies. He kissed the tight tip again, then raised his face and looked down into her eyes. “You like that,” he stated in a low, thick tone. “Your eyes are dark with pleasure.”

“Yesss…” she could only murmur, caught in the magic of his touch.

His hard, strong fingers circled her nipple, barely brushing the beaded tip. “Your breasts are high and firm; your nipples tight and surrounded by the sacred ring of life the warm, rich color of ripe apricots.” Lowering his mouth, he muttered, “A feast to feed a man’s soul.” His tongue swept around and over first one, then the other needy tip. He gently blew across her breasts, and she made a humming sound low in her throat. Oh, Goddess, she wanted him to do more—to fill the empty place deep inside...

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Friday, August 13, 2010

TIGHT WOMEN IN HARD PLACES by Alicia Night Orchid

TIGHT WOMEN IN HARD PLACES - a single author anthology from Alicia Night Orchid and Logical Lust Publications

She's a woman who's been around the block. She knows what she wants and how to get it.

She's remained faithful while her husband's off fighting in Iraq, but sometimes even good girls need a spanking. She's followed her lover from sunny California to medical school in Indiana-will it ever stop raining, and why has he brought an anatomy book to bed? In the prize-winning "Savage Nights," Trish loses a boyfriend, but discovers more than friendship with those crazy hippies next door. In "Torn in Two," Cindy gets another chance at romance, but is it worth it with a man who plays that rough?

The wife of a famous politician, she's sitting at the end of the bar, trolling for her next bad boy. A law student far from home, she's having an affair with her favorite professor. The girl next door, she eats too many sweets, struggles with a novel, and watches her neighbors through binoculars. Her mother might have been a cold war spy whose lovers whispered state secrets between the sheets, but Kate secretly yearns to be told how and when to do the nasty. She's the well-known defense attorney obsessed to the point of distraction with her lover's most private orifice, the country-western singer who needs to change her cheatin' ways, and the late-night waitress who swaps her panties for a hundred dollar bill and a brand new life.

Although told from a woman's point of view, don't expect mushy, romantic, happy-ever-ending stories here. Instead, meet real women making tough choices and getting on with imperfect lives. These women don't always get what they want, but they usually get what they need, both in life and in bed.These are tight women in hard places.

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Preface:

Alicia Night Orchid’s TIGHT WOMEN IN HARD PLACES: An Appreciation Preface by Cole Riley

“Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live.”

- Anais Nin

Yes, there is so much to say about this book. Alicia Night Orchid’s stunning collection of thirteen stories contains the spark of life, and it will speak for itself with each new reader, with each new mind open to its many secrets. Like any work of art worth its salt, its fictional alchemy restores sensual sanity in this modern plasticized world, bringing a heightened sense of love and lust from a feminine consciousness that can only enrich our jaded selves with its eroticized tales of resilience, empowerment, and fulfillment.

So Alicia Night Orchid’s fictional world is fresh and new. It’s new because its men and women talk and behave like real human beings do. They are not afraid to live or to love. They act in ways like real people do when they are blindsided by the heated chemistry of sexuality and sensuality. She writes simply and boldly of women feeling unsure about themselves, feeling nervy about men, feeling uneasy about the soft flesh they inhabit, feeling frantic about the urges and desires which make pleasure a priority.

This is not smut. This is not porn. This is about revelations and discoveries of the human kind. This is about real people in real situations that involve the often confusing, turbulent themes of love and lust. Alicia Night Orchid gets inside the heads and bodies of her people. She paints lines of economic beauty and sizzle when she talks of bodies seeking comfort and bliss. Not one of her stories contain a boring series of cookie-cutter sex scenes which often fill other countless books.

Take her first story, “The Anatomy of Wet,” where she depicts two college kids entranced with the miracle of young love, which is fleeting as a fickle downpour. In her tale, “Smoke,” she chronicles the parade of bad boys and one-nighters of a wealthy, powerful woman who needs to go “slumming” before she returns to that alabaster address on Pennsylvania Avenue. The story has a surprise ending worthy of O. Henry. Witness her memorable fable, “Royal Orleans,” where she re-creates the moment of emotional seduction in the mind of a young woman eager to know love:



“And yes...yes, you’re sure you made the right decision, because his kiss is like falling into a well that you never wish to leave. You kiss him back—tongues swirl, nipples harden, and suddenly you’re floating, floating, and you’ve said yes, you want to see him again.”



In two other Alicia Night Orchid stories, “I Saw the Light” and “Fridays Without,” it is the small details that form their narrative glue; all strung together like the bittersweet lyrics of a Cajun blues. The former yarn features a honky tonk gal who loves a good time but somehow has lost her bearings in this mix of the spiritual, the secular and the sensual. The latter story has a special place for technology running amok, taking Kate the bespeckled librarian into some forbidden realms of desire.

Conflict, crisis, resolution. This is life itself. Toss all labels, classifications, and categories out when you read her stories. The characters of Tammy the hustle gal, Ray the aeronautic engineer and his “shyster bitch” are as real as can be in the next couple of stories, “Third Shift” and “Ray’s Opening.” The fate of the hapless Ray in the last tale is a somber life lesson with his girlfriend making him her bitch and he loves it. Outlaw Amour 101.

The stories, “Savage Nights,” “Snowbound,” and “Voyeur Nation” all engage the mind, jolt the soul and fire up the libido. Somehow the woman reminds one of the Jimmy Stewart role in Hitchcock’s Rear Window as “peeping Pauline” in “Voyeur Nation,” watching a couple perform while knowing they’re on display. But the other tales, “A Lover in the House of Spies,” “Torn In Two,” and “The Western Front” display a versatility and high craftsmanship rarely found in this genre.

There will always be a public debate about the merits of erotica versus porn. This is high-style erotica told with style and flair. It is similar to the well-penned imaginative work of Anais Nin, D. H. Lawrence, and Henry Miller. This is the good stuff. Read it, feel it, and be moved.

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