Monday, July 21, 2014

GETTING WORKED UP by Erin Nicholas

GETTING WORKED UP by Erin Nicholas

Sapphire Falls, Book 2

Phoebe Sherwood is in love with the perfect man. Well, except for the fact that he’s in love with someone else. But Phoebe isn’t the type to let a little detail like that keep her from getting what she wants. And as she’s plotting how to get him back, she meets the perfect solution—Joe Spencer. The city boy is in town to retrieve his sort-of fiancé—the woman who stole Phoebe’s man— and when he hears Phoebe’s plan to reclaim their respective soul mates, he’s in

Bright and sparkly. That’s Joe’s first impression of Phoebe. He’s always been attracted to sparkly things—like neon casino signs, sequined evening gowns and Porsches. In fact, his affinity for those things, and the trouble they can cause, are exactly why he’s determined to change his habits and settle down.

But if he’s going to win his girl back, he’s going to need to learn a new way of life. Country line dancing, guzzling homemade moonshine and getting rid of his custom-made suits are what it takes to fit into Sapphire Falls… and he’s got some work to do.

But Phoebe is the perfect coach.

And everything will be just fine… as long as they can keep their hands off of each other and remember which hearts they are trying to win over.

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~Excerpt~

© copyright Erin Nicholas, 2014


Phoebe took a seat on the bench across from him and crossed her arms on the table top. “You gonna make it?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve been worse off than this. But it usually involves way more liquor, a couple cigars, staying up until the sun comes up and—” He caught Phoebe’s wide eyes and shifted on his seat. Maybe that was too much sharing too early on.

“And a couple of blonds and brunettes on the side?” Phoebe asked.

He cleared his throat. “Past life. That’s over. I’m turning over a new leaf.”

Phoebe gave him a knowing look. “That’s not a denial on the multiple girls.”

“Past life,” he repeated.

“Ah.” She nodded. And certainly didn’t seem shocked or disgusted. “Well, you’re gonna have to change your ways if you’re gonna live here,” Phoebe said. She was studying the back of the booth beside his shoulder with a frown.

“What do you mean? If that Booze is a regular thing around here, you’re all way wilder and tougher than me,” he said lightly.

Phoebe looked up. “Well, there is that.”

“Then I should be fine.”

“Sure, as long as vanilla is your favorite flavor, you’ll be great.”

He leaned in. “Are we talking about vodka, ice cream or sex?”

She leaned in too. “Do you like vanilla in any of those things?”

“Nope. Vodka isn’t my drink and I like some flavor and even a few add-ins with both ice cream and sex.”

“Add-ins?” Phoebe repeated.

“Like crushed up oreos and colored sprinkles.” Joe made note of Phoebe’s bright-blue sleeveless top. He also knew that her capris were yellow, as were her flip flops, though they had blue rhinestones that glittered from the straps.

He really did like colored sprinkles.

“You use oreos and colored sprinkles during sex?”

He grinned. “Sure. Or chocolate syrup. Or edible body lotion. Or other add-ins. You know…toys, handcuffs, naughty costumes. That kind of stuff.”

Phoebe licked her lips and Joe couldn’t look away from the shine on her bottom lip. “What kind of costumes?” She was practically whispering now.

Phoebe Sherwood never whispered. He’d known her less than twenty-four hours and he knew that.

He liked this. He lowered his voice too. “I’ve always been partial to naughty teachers.”

Phoebe blushed.

He liked that too. It was probably almost as rare as the being-quiet thing. But he didn’t know why she’d be blushing. “Do you have a naughty-teacher costume?” he asked, so hoping the answer was yes.

“I am a teacher.”

He thought about that, his grin growing. “And here I was gonna say that I thought my new favorite might be a naughty farm girl.”

She blushed brighter at that and he laughed.

“You shouldn’t be flirting with me,” she finally said.

He sighed, his smile fading. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“You can’t really help it though, huh?”

“It tends to get the better of me.”

“You’re gonna have to tone it down.”

“Hanging out with you isn’t going to help me there.”

They sat looking at each other. Joe honestly didn’t know how he should feel at that moment. Maybe apologetic, but that didn’t seem to be sinking in.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

DARK SHADOW by LaVerne Thompson

DARK SHADOW by LaVerne Thompson

The Hidden Series

Did you really think you’d live forever?

She never planned on dying at eighteen, much less awakening to live in the world as a creature of the night. Still, Noel doesn’t complain. She embraces who she’s become, even through the dark loneliness she feels at times.

Have you ever had dreams so alluring you couldn’t get them out of your mind?

Jett knows they're only dreams, but they feel real to the point that he closes his eyes during the day just to embrace them again. No matter the danger to his soul if such a beautiful nightmare does exist. It goes by the sweet name Noel.

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~Excerpt~

“Run,” he managed to croak out. “Get out of here before they come back.” God the last thing he wanted for her to be attacked by those vampires or whatever the hell they were.

Jett forced himself off the wall and reached for her hand. “Come on, we have to get out of here.” But with his first step away from the wall his head swam, weakened from blood loss, he fell on his knees to the ground. She still held his hand as she leaned over him. For such a tiny thing, her grip felt incredibly strong or he was just that weak, he suspected the latter.

He sat back on his haunches; his head too heavy to remain upright but through sheer will power he looked up at her. Breathing heavily he whispered, “Run. Leave me. Please.”

She smiled. He felt himself dying in that dark dirty alley yet her smile made it seem as though he’d gotten a glimpse of heaven. She raised her hand and touched his forehead. The burning sensation disappeared but he still had no strength. It seeped out along with his blood, running down the sides of his neck and wrist. Jett couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. But he managed to tell his angel, for with the bright light shining from her beautiful golden eyes, surely that’s what she had to be.

“Run.”

Friday, July 18, 2014

NOBODY'S PERFECT by Kallypso Master

NOBODY'S PERFECT by Kallypso Masters


Rescue Me Book 3

Savannah Gentry, now Savi Baker, escaped the abuse, torture, and degradation forced upon her by a sadistic father for eleven years and has made a safe life for herself and her daughter. When her father threatens her peace of mind--and her daughter's safety--Savi runs to Damian Orlando for protection. Eight years earlier, young Savannah shared one perfect day with Damian that changed both their young lives and resulted in a secret she can no longer hide. But being with Damian reawakens repressed memories and feelings she does want to keep hidden--buried. At Damian's private Masters at Arms Club, she discovers that sexual healing might be achieved through BDSM (Bondage, Dominance/submission, sadomasochism)—specifically SM administered by a loving Service Top named Damian.

Damian, a wounded warrior, has had his own dragons to fight in life, but has never forgotten Savannah. He will lay down his life to protect Savi and her daughter, but doesn't believe he can offer more than that. She deserves a whole man, something he can never be after a firefight in Iraq. Damian also has turned to SM to regain control of his life and emotions and fulfills the role of Service Top to "bottoms" in the club in need of catharsis by whipping or other SM practices he is skilled at delivering. But he could never deliver that level of pain to Savi, who needs someone gentle and loving, not the man he has become. But when Savi witnesses a cathartic whipping scene on her first night at the club--delivered by Damian--she begins to wonder if this Damian could also help her regain control of her life and reclaim her sexuality and identity.

CONTENT WARNING: Readers who have a history of past abuse (sexual, physical, and emotional) may be triggered by scenes in this story. Before reading this book, please be aware that it is primarily about an incest survivor dealing with the sexual aftermath of years of abuse. She has dealt with non-sexual issues in years of therapy, but has tamped down anything related to sex. In this story, she struggles to find healing through a trusting, consensual BDSM relationship. If you believe that reading about PTSD flashbacks of incest, whipping for catharsis, mindf**ks, and related topics might be triggering for you, but you still choose to read it, please make sure you only read this book in a safe environment with supportive people available to you.

The BDSM scenes in this book (some of them beginning and advanced sadomasochism techniques) are the result of many conversations with submissives and Dominants who have worked through similar abuse issues using activities in the BDSM community and lifestyle. Therefore, the BDSM is portrayed as healing rather than titillating. If you are looking for the latter only, this might not be an enjoyable read.

But if you want to delve into the roller-coaster journey of a young couple trying to work through intense issues in a compelling story that pulls you into the characters' world and doesn't let you go, then you might find healing and entertainment in this story. The author, also a child-sexual abuse survivor, has found that writing the story has provided catharsis for her, and hopes other survivors who read it will see that they are survivors, too, and no one is ever so wounded she or he can't find love.

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Excerpt:

[NOTE: Italics for internal thoughts and foreign language will not appear in this excerpt]

Prologue

Savi Baker opened her mini laptop to update her résumé and write a cover letter for the "office clerk" position circled in the newspaper classifieds beside her. She'd need to hurry. Marisol's practice for the church children's pageant would be over in an hour or so.

Her years of college and clinicals were irrelevant now. She just needed to find something fast to pay her student loans and keep up the house and car payments. She and Mari had never lived extravagantly, but losing her job last week—three weeks before Christmas—just added to her anxiety.

She'd bought and wrapped some special gifts for Mari and tucked them away on the upper shelf in her closet. At least Christmas would have some special moments, but Savi would be lucky to be able to pay for groceries, much less the expensive ingredients needed for the holiday gifts she liked to bake for her friends.

After working so hard to achieve her goal of being a social worker and helping young abuse victims cope much more easily than she had following her own years of abuse, the loss of her job hit her harder than ever. Another dream lost.

Don't think about Damián Orlando.

She still didn't know why she'd been fired. Her supervisor seemed equally confused, so it couldn't have been because her daughter, Marisol, had been sick with the flu a couple of weeks before that. Everyone at the clinic was supportive of her being a working single mother. Her friend Anita, the woman who worked as the clinic's receptionist and had been the only mother figure Savi had known most of her life, had even stayed home with Mari so that Savi had only missed two days of work.

Her supervisor had encouraged Savi to submit an appeal to the state agency responsible for her termination, which she'd done immediately. Was she fired because of the complaint the clinic had received from the mother of one of her new clients? Mrs. Reynolds accused Savi of being indifferent to her daughter's needs, but Savi and her supervisor had explained to the mother that wasn't the case at all. With the highly charged emotions in situations involving domestic and child abuse, all case workers had to remain professional, objective, and somewhat emotionally distanced. This was especially true for Savi. She couldn't let her own demons from the past come to the surface.

In the end, Mrs. Reynolds had hugged her, sobbing. The mother had claimed she understood, and Savi had thought that was the end of it. Maybe not. Had she gone to the licensing agency to complain?

Oh, what difference did the reason make? She'd been fired. It could take months, or even years, to get reinstated; unraveling bureaucracy took time. She didn't have a huge savings—or time. Her immediate concern was finding a way to support her daughter and herself until she got another job in the mental-health field—if that was even possible.

Absorbed in typing, she jumped when the doorbell chimed. She looked at the time on her screen's desktop. Too early for Mari to be dropped off—unless something had happened. Barely able to breathe, Savi nearly ran to the front door and opened it, expecting to see one of the youth leaders from the church group.

Lyle.

She gasped, nearly choking as bile rose in her throat. Stupid! Why hadn't she glanced through the peephole first? She tried to reverse the movement by slamming the door in his face, but it stopped abruptly against his Italian leather wingtip. Her muscles in her arms quivered as she pushed harder.

"What kind of greeting is that for an old friend, Savannah?"

Enemy. Not a friend. Savi wedged the side of her bare heel against the door to keep him from opening it any further. Her lungs burned as she tried to fill them with much-needed air. Dangerous. He couldn't stay here. He would hurt Mari. She had to get rid of him.

She pulled the door slightly toward her without moving her foot and then tried to slam it with all her strength. He didn't even flinch. "What do you want?"

He smiled at her and relaxed. "Let me inside. We'll talk."

Savi suppressed a shudder. "You're not coming in. Leave before I call the police!"

His eyes narrowed into slits. Fear crawled up Savi's spine for the first time since she escaped this man and her father eight years ago. Vile man. Could she fight him off?

"Open this door, you dirty slut, or you and Marisol will regret this pathetic show of bravery."

Marisol. He knew her name. Did he know where she was? Oh, God, she prayed. Don't let Mari come home early. Where was her father? Had he gone after Mari while Lyle was here with her?

"I'm not letting you inside my—"

Without warning, Lyle rammed his body full force into the door, sending the edge of the wood into Savi's cheek. She hurtled backward until she lay sprawled on the floor, looking up at him. His navy-blue dress pants and wingtip shoes made her shudder as a distant memory tried to smother her efforts to regain her breath, but she tamped it back down. The angry man towered over her.

"Ah, just where a slut like you belongs, Savannah—at my feet." He reached for her. "Let me hear you scream, for old-time's sake, you filthy whore."

No! Memories of the night he'd placed her father's brand on her could never be erased, no matter how many times she'd tried. Neither could any of the degrading things Lyle had subjected her to at her father's orders.

She rolled onto all fours and scrambled to get away, sliding on the waxed floor. Lyle's savage kick slammed into her ribs as his wingtip impacted her left side. The air whooshed from her lungs, and she fought to catch her next breath.

"Your father asked me to bring you and your brat to him. But we're going to enjoy a little playtime first. What your father doesn't know…"

Another blow from his shoe struck her side near the same place. Panic set in as her breathing became more labored. Two more kicks followed in rapid succession. The pain!

Breathe!

Maman, help me. Give me the strength to fight him off. Help me protect Mari.

Savi pulled herself up using the hallway table and tried to inhale again. She turned to find Lyle smirking at her. Bastard. She picked up a wrought-iron candlestick from the table. In one swift motion, she swung it at his head, gouging his forehead. She hoped she'd more than stunned him, but didn't wait for him to recover. She followed up by kneeing him in the groin. He doubled over and fell to the floor moaning as he held his privates. His blood trickled onto her floor.

Not unconscious yet. Cut off the blood flow to the brain.

She'd learned a number of self-defense techniques from a female Marine veteran in a study group at college. Savi cringed as her finger touched his neck, hating to place her hands anywhere on him, but finally she found the point she sought and pressed—hard. She counted. By thirty seconds, Lyle's body grew even more limp.

Escape! Now!

Running to the kitchen, she grabbed her purse and keys and stumbled out the back door. A black BMW sat parked behind her little blue Nissan. She glanced back at her bungalow. Her home, but no longer her safe place.

No sign of Lyle yet, but he wouldn't be unconscious forever. Breathing had become a struggle, but she refused to escape inside her head to that numb place where she could dull the pain. Mari needed her to stay in the moment.

Mari needed her. Period.

She filled her lungs with as much air as she could stand and held her breath. Oh dear lord. Why couldn't she breathe? She pressed her hand to her chest and tucked her elbow against her left side, near where Lyle had kicked her repeatedly. Was something broken?

How had her father and his partner found her after all these years? She'd changed her name, her looks, everything, to keep from being found. No way would she ever let them anywhere near her daughter; they'd never do to Mari any of the things they'd done to her. In some ways, while Lyle had only been her handler, he was more sadistic than her father. Lyle had been the one to place her father's shameful mark on her. He'd enjoyed hearing her scream and often inflicted even more pain than what her father had ordered.

She opened the car door, got behind the steering wheel, and turned the key in the ignition. She couldn't zone out now. She needed to get to San Miguel's…to Mari.

Then what?

The images of Damián in her office comforting Teresa, his niece and her former client, and of him later last month standing over the inert body of the girl's rapist father alternated before her eyes.

No. She couldn't get close to him again. He was dangerous in a totally different way from Lyle and her father—but still, oh, so dangerous.

What other option did she have, though? She could protect herself or die trying, but what if something happened to her and they got their evil hands on Mari? She couldn't risk that.

Mari needed Damián.


Tuesday, July 15, 2014

GETTING OUT OF HAND by Erin Nicholas


Sapphire Falls Book One

Genius scientist Mason Riley can cure world hunger, impress the media and piss off the Vice President of the United States all before breakfast. But he’s not sure he can get through his high school class reunion.

Then he meets the new girl in town.

Adrianne Scott loves Sapphire Falls. The sleepy little town has been the perfect place to escape her fast-paced, high stress lifestyle. Her only plans now include opening her candy shop and living a quiet, drama-free life.

Until Mason Riley bids four hundred dollars just to dance with her.

Mason sure doesn’t look—or kiss—like a genius scientist geek. In fact, he makes Adrianne’s heart pound like nothing she’s ever experienced. Passion like this with a guy who travels the world and parties at the White House should probably be a red flag for a girl who wants a simple boring life.

Good thing no one falls in love in a weekend.


~Excerpt~
© copyright Erin Nicholas, 2014

“’Kay all, Adrianne’s next.”

A hand shot up in front before Jack even asked for a bid.

Jack chuckled and started the action at thirty dollars. It quickly climbed to two dances and fifty dollars.

Adrianne. Mason had no idea who she was, but it was obvious she was damned popular. She was no Hailey Conner, and in Sapphire Falls she never would be, but at least the guys around here hadn’t missed the silkiness of the blond waves that fell to her shoulder blades, or the sweetness of her smile, or the perfect curve of her ass—

Mason straightened. What the hell was that? His type was about four years younger than Adrianne, twenty pounds lighter and not from Sapphire Falls.

“What’s her story?” he asked Drew.

“Adrianne Scott,” Drew said with an appreciative sigh. “She’s new.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“Been here a couple of years. She’s friends with Hailey. Everyone wants her.”

He’d noticed that too. And it bugged him.

“She’s not dating anyone?”

Drew chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. Not for lack of trying. She never dates. The first guy to kiss her gets a hundred bucks.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. He didn’t necessarily approve of guys kissing a woman to win money, but then again, he was quite sure that no man would want to kiss Adrianne just for money.

“Everyone wants her.”

The guys in Sapphire Falls might have more taste than he’d given them credit for.

He drained the beer he didn’t want and disliked immensely and decided to place a food order to go. This was all of no interest to him.

“Okay, sixty-five dollars and three dances with Miss Adrianne Scott. Going once—”

Then she laughed at something the woman next to her said.

And Mason was in trouble.

Well, hell.

“Three hundred dollars,” he called out.

Every single pair of eyes in the room turned to look at Mason at the same time.

He’d never been the center of attention without a microphone in front of him and a conference logo behind him before.

Certainly never in Sapphire Falls.

He stepped forward. He’d opened his big mouth, couldn’t really go back now. He should probably be more surprised that he’d bid like that, but he wasn’t. He was a genius after all, and while his brain and mouth almost never disconnected, paying a few measly bucks for a chance to dance all night with Adrianne Scott and hear that laugh again was a genius move.

“Did you say three hundred?” Jack demanded, pointing a wooden gavel at him as if challenging him to take it back.

“Yes, sir,” Mason replied, looking at Adrianne when he added, “For the rest of the dances tonight.”

Adrianne’s cheeks were pink and her eyes wide. She wore no makeup to enhance the features that were completely captivating him. Her hair was loose and she wore a simple white cotton tank under a denim shirt with blue jeans. Simple, unadorned, and yet he had never been more drawn to a woman.

Jack looked around the room. Obviously, it was unprecedented for a man to monopolize a woman for the entire evening.

“But it’s only—” Jack started.

“Four hundred,” Mason answered, still watching Adrianne.

“I don’t—”

“Maybe we should let the lady decide,” Mason interrupted, walking toward Adrianne.

“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head as he advanced. She was breathing a little fast and she darted her tongue out and wet her bottom lip.

He took another step toward her. “Then what are you worth?”

She swallowed and glanced around. “There’s only three dances left,” she said. “I can’t let you pay three hundred dollars for that.”

“I offered four,” he reminded her, moving in closer still.

She smiled and he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth.

“I meant that even three was too much.”

He was directly in front of her now, and only those within about ten feet of them could hear the conversation. “I didn’t tell you what I expected those dances to be like for four hundred dollars.”

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

FOR BEN by Kate Richards

FOR BEN by Kate Richards

Corbin's Bend Book 6

Roy Simms is about to make full partner in a big NYC law firm. His wife, Teri, assures him that once they reach their career goals, they can relax and enjoy life...maybe even consider starting a family. He’s not sure how much longer their marriage can survive if they don’t make time for one another. One evening of passion and spanking makes him ache for the connection they’ve almost lost.

Teri Simms doesn’t understand why Roy needs so much prodding to reach for the stars. With his education and talent, he should be senior partner long since. But he’ll get there. Her own vice presidency occurred only five years into her tenure with the financial firm, and if it takes seventeen hours a day and most of her weekends, so be it. Roy will just have to continue to be understanding.

A phone call from a stranger will change everything. This two-job-no-kids couple is a family, due to the tragic death of Teri’s sister and brother in law. They must fly immediately to Corbin’s Bend, Colorado and take charge of little Ben, almost four years old. The change of scene brings to the forefront everything good and bad about their marriage. It’s time to face some difficult truths.

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FOR BEN: Corbin's Bend, Book Six (Sample Chapter)
by Kate Richards

Copyright 2014 Lazy Day, LLC and Kate Richards

Chapter One

Teri Simms had distressing news to deliver. Roy would be upset, but it couldn’t be helped.

Sometimes Teri feared she’d dreamed her life. She’d come far. And brought her husband along with her. But neither had grown up expecting the luxury of their current life. Or the frantic nature of their days and nights.

From so high up, the streets of New York City looked less in focus than the scenes on the HDTV on the wall opposite the floor-to-ceiling windows of their hard-earned penthouse. Not a sound or a speck of dust penetrated the glass tower, despite her husband’s complaints about the noise and dirt of the City. Tiny cars passed back in forth in front of the building, stopping and starting as the colored traffic lights flashed, or pedestrians crossed.

The rooftop terrace her husband so loved, a riot of floral color in daytime, lay in shades of gray at nine o’clock at night. And she didn’t feel motivated to turn on the floodlights and dim her view of the Boulevard.

Was one of those tiny cabs making its way down Broadway carrying Roy?

They’d planned an evening together, at his request. She’d even refused a client dinner—something rarer than rare in her busy career—to rush home and enjoy takeout sushi and a movie with her husband. And he was over an hour late. She could have met with the client for drinks, presented the new investment strategy, and been home by then, if he couldn’t make their appointment.

Beyond irritated, Teri paced toward the narrow marble ledge by the entrance, picked up her phone but didn’t dial. She wouldn’t call him. The late party had the responsibility. He knew that. And if his own schedule ran over, he could have had his secretary let her know, preferably before she cut the business day short.

Husbands were almost not worth the effort.

She froze, hand still on the device. How could she think Roy not worth the effort? He worked as hard as she did—albeit with a little encouragement from his better half—and would make full partner within the next couple of years, sooner if old man Barnstall got any more absent minded and was forced into retirement.

Teri frowned at the worn green leather recliner set off to the side, as if ashamed to associate with the rest of the subtle earth tones the decorator chose for their home. Millicent would be by for the annual style update in a few days, and would no doubt fuss about the ugly thing again. But Roy refused to get rid of it…so far.

And the news she had to share would take him a while to forgive, so the furniture issue would have to wait until another night.

Teri grabbed the phone and sank into the worn chair. She’d never admit to him how often she sat there, how comfortable it was, or how the lingering hint of his woodsy cologne lifted her spirits when she was worried or a little blue. What if he was having those alarming chest pains again? His doctor said it was indigestion, prescribed antacids and shorter work days. But what if it was something more?

As soon as he had that partnership, she would have him check into the hospital for tests. If they did it sooner, the seniors would hold his health against him.

Hitting speed dial, she settled back and listened to the ring until it went to voicemail.

Anger returned, seeping over her unease. The inconsiderate man could at least pick the damn thing up and give her his excuse for tardiness.

Ding. The shining steel elevator doors slid open. No wonder he’d been unavailable. One would think a building like theirs would offer lifts with a reasonable amount of cellphone reception. She’d have her secretary send a nasty note to the management company in the morning. Roy stepped into the great room, his overcoat over his arm, top button on his shirt loosened, tie stuffed in his jacket pocket. One lock of black hair fell over his forehead. He always had looked great rumpled. It sent naughty right to her core. She might have liked his success, but his charm and sex appeal had been the first things she’d noticed about him. Then his potential.

Still…he was late. “About time you got here.”

The corner of his lips curved up, deepening the lines around his tired eyes. “I knew you liked my chair.”

Dammit. She jumped up as if the leather burned the backs of her thighs. “I don’t, I just…. that’s not the point. Why are you late?” He raised his shoulders and her gaze fixed on his empty hands. “And where’s the sushi? You forgot again.” Not giving him a chance to respond, she hit the next number on speed dial. “Hi, Yasumi, it’s Mrs. Simms. Can you send the usual?” While the terrace was Roy’s favorite part of their home, the restaurants and shops on the first two floors of their steel and glass high-rise were hers. If she could telecommute, she could go months without going outside. Of course, her lack of attendance would lead to disaster. Her clients counted on personal service. And the backstabbers at work needed watching.

As she dropped the phone to the side table, his grin fell. “I don’t know why you didn’t order it to start with.” And the tone of the evening clicked into place. Bickering, as usual. So much for intimacy, a movie and…oh, no. If she got him upset before she told him her bad news, things were likely to escalate. She’d planned to soften him up before delivering the blow.

Smoothing her hair, she summoned whatever sex appeal she retained and offered him a coy smile. “You’re right, Roy. I should have.” Teri slunk across the room, took his overcoat, and hung it in the foyer closet. “Let’s not ruin our evening. Were you stuck in a meeting?”

“No,” he said, casting a narrow-eyed gaze at her.

“Traffic?”

He shook his head. Confused, she tried to think of what other reason might have delayed him. Silence stretched out as the two of them stood between the elevator door and coat closet until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“It’s almost nine-thirty. Why weren’t you here at eight, as we agreed?”

He fidgeted, increasing his resemblance to a rumpled little boy at the end of a busy day, then lifted his head and his piercing and very grown-up stare skewered her. “Because I didn’t think you would be.”

Stunned, she tried to summon words of protest. Then remembered she didn’t have the upper hand for once. “And you had reason to lack faith in me. I apologize.” Taking his arm, she led him toward his chair and pushed him down. “I’ll fix us a drink while we wait for the sushi. How was your day, dear?”

Roy leapt out of the chair faster than his wife had. How was your day, dear? The query of a 1950s housewife, maybe, but not his hotshot financier wife. Suspicion faded under an overburden of certainty. Gripping her upper arm, he jerked her to face him and grasped the other elbow. Acid burned in his throat. “Before we go any further, what the hell is going on?”

I-I don’t know what you mean.” She widened her eyes, a caricature of innocence she invariably adopted when she hid something. “What’s wrong with asking about your day?”

Wrong? “The last time I kept you waiting, you subjected me to the silent treatment for a week. I know you, Teri. If you are willing to overlook the waste of over an hour of your precious time, something’s up.”

They stood poised in the center of the cold, impersonal room she hired some fussy, skinny woman to redecorate every year. To keep up with trends, she said, for when they entertained. He wasn’t even sure whether they owned the furniture or maybe leased it so that it could come and go so often. And he couldn’t recall the last time they had guests. It was easier to take clients out than to arrange catering.

She dropped her face and he stared at the top of her head, coming only up to his collarbone.

Teri was a constant blur of motion, in and out of the house, on her way to work and meetings. Their social life consisted of business-related engagements. Her slim form trembled in his hands, a hummingbird, something never still long enough for a good look.

Softening, he reconsidered his stance, unable to hold anger at the petite woman he’d married. He never could. Whatever she had to tell him, they’d get past it. A small flicker of worry flitted past—was someone ill? It was so out of character for her to be sweet to him when he was wrong—and he was so often wrong.

“Teri,” he released one shoulder and tipped her chin up, “tell me what’s going on.” Her lovely face, emerald eyes, high cheekbones, framed by glossy auburn hair, had captivated him the first time he’d seen her at a fraternity mixer. There’d been nobody for him since although she hadn’t deigned to notice him right away.

No, he’d spent a year chasing her like a smitten boy, which he supposed he had been, before she accepted an invitation to dinner and a concert.

She bit her lip and swallowed hard and his fear rose. His mother must be dead. Nothing could cause his confident wife so much hesitation but a great tragedy. Steeling himself, he waited for her answer.

“It’s not a big deal, nothing to be so upset about.” She shrugged free of his grip and faced the City view. “We just have to reschedule our vacation for later in the summer. You don’t mind, do you?”

The rage reddening his vision might have been out of proportion…if they had ever had a vacation. Even their honeymoon had been cut short by an emergency at the office. He should have seen the writing on the wall then. His moment of nostalgic affection fled. “Mind? Why should I mind?”

She turned to him again, a small smile highlighting the relief in her eyes, her brisk mannerisms returning. Teri bent to straighten a pillow on the couch and her straight gray pencil skirt tightened around her perfect ass. His focus narrowed on his favorite part of her anatomy. But, for once, caressing it wasn’t his first thought.

“So, I’ll call the travel agent and cancel.” She moved another annoying decorative pillow into its exact place on the leather sofa. “And maybe we can go in the fall?”

“I don’t think so.” Roy moved the few steps to stand behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Not this time. I am holding you accountable for your promises, for once.” Beyond rational thought, he lifted his hand and brought it down on her backside with a resounding smack. “And I am tired of being lied to.” Another sharp slap on her other cheek, the sound echoing in their sterile, perfectly arranged “living” room. Nobody did any living there. No family photos hung on the pale-gray papered walls. No books or boxes of tissues, candy, or stray personal items cluttered the occasional tables. Like a hotel room, where they passed through on their way to more important things. Slapping her a third time, he tightened his hold as she struggled.

Roy dropped to a seat on the couch and pulled her over his lap. Her outraged gasps barely broke through the roaring in his head.

“What are you doing?” Teri kicked out but her legs flailed on the smooth cushions and her arms were pinned beneath her. “Stop it immediately!” Two more smacks and she shrieked. “Have you gone insane?”

“Maybe, Teri, but it’s time someone held you to your agreements, and if you will recall…this was one of them.”

She stilled and so did his hand, rubbing small circles on her ass, while he decided how many more spanks her behavior merited. “Oh, God, you can’t be referring to the ridiculous game we used to play.”

He lifted his hand high and whacked, hard. “You didn’t think it was a game when you proposed the plan.” Way back when, during their engagement, she’d introduced some elements of domestic discipline into their life. He’d spanked her once or twice for sassy behavior, but it really had never been more than a game. “But maybe never taking it beyond sex play was my mistake. Maybe if I’d been a little more proactive, we wouldn’t have gotten to this point.”

“Roy, stop this.” She struggled, a warm armful, her breasts rubbing against the side of his thigh.

“I think your news is punishment-worthy, don’t you?” Smack. Her skirt got in the way and he drew the zipper down, keeping one forearm on her waist to hold her in place.

“Roy,” she shrieked, her voice rising in volume. “If you don’t let me up, I’ll…I’ll….”

“You’ll what?” Jerking the garment to her knees, he beheld those horrible Lycra undergarments she wore, claiming her behind bulged out of control no matter how much she dieted and exercised. He couldn’t think how to get them off and still hold her there, so they’d have to stay. His first spank on her appropriately named underwear made him grin.

“Just cut it out. Ouch! That hurts!” Teri bucked against his arm, her captive cheeks wriggling in their prison as he rained his displeasure and punishment on her buttocks, then on her thighs, on the Lycra then below it, on her bare skin. The sharp crack of his palm against her white flesh, the pink handprints, pleased him.

“That’s the idea. It’s punishment, after all. Breaking your word is a serious offense. Wasn’t keeping our promises one of our vows?”

He’d avoided taking advantage of their agreement for a long time, fearing his anger would get the best of him. But far from it, he experienced a sense of control he’d never imagined. And her wriggling on his lap was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

The few times they’d engaged in spanking before had been the discipline games of experimenting college students. True. But could their agreement hold the key to saving a marriage on the rocks? Sobered by the possibility, and her lack of response, he stopped.

Teri no longer struggled, but lay limp, and he leaned his head against the high-backed sofa. He’d spanked her. What next?

They couldn’t go back. But what would take them forward? What would he do if she stood up and announced she was leaving him? Despite all their troubles, she held his heart in her delicate hands. His throat swelled with emotion. And guilt. She seemed so much smaller lying there, and so quiet. In a rush of worry, he lifted her to sit upright on his lap and searched her face. Tear-tracks marked the soft curves of her cheeks and, as he watched, a droplet fell from her lashes to splash on his hand.

“Oh, baby, I….” How could he make up for striking her in anger? Perhaps his feeling of being in control had been an illusion. His throat burned, his chest hurt. He should pack and go before she had the police on him. He held her by the waist, but her arms came up and circled his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

His heart broke at the depth of her sadness, and it was his fault. But under his guilt and doubt, the beginnings of another feeling surfaced. A memory of a different relationship. Their first few years together had a whole different balance. Roy tightened his arms around her and stroked her back, whispering reassurances while images struck him.

Long, long before, he’d been a solid partner in their relationship.

Assured of his plans for the future, he’d completed undergrad studies, achieved honor society each semester without much effort and had plenty of time for frolicking with his pretty girlfriend. They’d attended parties and gone on romantic picnics, all by themselves. Movies, dinner out…mostly cheap because they didn’t have a lot of extra money but every event took on a sparkle with Teri by his side. While he attended law school and she worked on her MBA, their time had been tighter, but they’d still managed to have “study picnics” which more often than not dissolved into passionate lovemaking on the faded quilt spread on his apartment floor. Sometimes with some playful spanking to spice things up. They’d laughed so much then.

When had everything changed?

Teri sniffled and he stroked her hair. “It’s okay, baby.” The guilt had faded, but his confusion made it impossible to identify what replaced it. An odd comfort, for sure, at holding her, soothing her tears, and an ache at her softness. Her hard, sharp edges in recent years could cut glass and had sliced at his feelings more than once. When she lifted her chin, he pressed his lips to her forehead, her nose, and, as her eyes flickered closed, he kissed each eyelid then her mouth.

For an instant, he feared she would reject him. After all, he was the beast who had taken her over his lap in anger. He needed to apologize, explain his actions…somehow. But Teri groaned and returned his growing passion. As if a wall had crumbled between them, passion flared. He moved his hands up and down her back until he cupped her ass, still warm from his attentions, and his cock hardened.

With a growl, Roy lifted her in his arms—teetering off balance as he rose—and strode toward their bedroom. She hung on, and he savaged her mouth while trying not to bounce off any walls. Dropping her to the mattress on her belly, he grasped her Lycra garment and rent it in two then flipped her over.

“What are you doing?” she protested. “I need those.”

“No you don’t, and if you want to remain my wife, you will never wear them again.” He might be going too far, but her butt cheeks and upper thighs bore a pink stain from his hands, and his desire surged. He grabbed a stack of pillows to raise her hips then opened his belt, unzipped his suit pants, and pulled his erect cock out of the boxer briefs.

Ready to fuck her right then, he cautioned himself to slow down, to make sure she was ready. Usually she would tell him, but he had the reins. Pushing her ass higher, he admired the picture she made before him on the silky black comforter. The one she always put aside so he wouldn’t soil it with his cum.

“Roy, I need to—” She looked over her shoulder and he saw the start of the old, in-control Teri surfacing. He pushed her face into the pillows.

“You need to spread your legs, woman.” He jerked them apart for her, baring her rosy pussy to his perusal.

“I don’t want….”

Roy stroked one finger from her clit to her anus, dragging moisture with it. “I can’t imagine what you don’t want, you’re so wet for me.” Unable to resist, he slapped her bare bottom, rewarded by the sharp crack. So much better than over those damn girdle-things. He’d go through her drawer and dispose of every pair. A woman’s curves, especially those of his wife, deserved more respect than to be crammed into such things. What happened to the jiggle he’d loved? “Do you want me to stop, baby?” He rubbed her with two fingers, teasing at her entrance and then retreating as her breathing grew harsh. “You’ll have to speak up.”

“No…I….” Teri lapsed into silence and he paused, holding light pressure on her clit. She jerked.

“No, stop? Or no, don’t stop.”

“Damn you,” she murmured. “Just fuck me, why don’t you, so we can get on with our conversation.”

He fought his usual reaction to her words. He’d zipped up and walked away before, when she became shrewish, but instead he rained down on her cheeks a flurry of slaps, holding her in place with the other hand. “But, wife, you don’t expect me to leave you hanging to take my own pleasure.” He spanked over her upper thighs, making overlapping handprints, to his great satisfaction. But anger was not in the game. He was hot for her form and anxious to bring her back to the soft woman he’d glimpsed in the living room. “This is our evening together and we are going to enjoy it.”

Roy’s passion for his wife deepened along with the flush on her backside. Cherry red suited her, and if she couldn’t sit down at work in comfort the next day, perhaps she’d remember how she had attempted—yes, attempted, because he was not going to let her have her way—to change their plans. If she insisted, they were over.

The thought slowed his hand but also fired his blood. They were worth fighting for. But he couldn’t do it unless they had some time together. More than a stolen hour, which often ended with either an argument or a pair of exhausted people asleep before they even got undressed. Dammit, they needed the two weeks they’d scheduled.

But even if she refused, he’d use the evening to make a lasting memory. Grasping her hips, he dragged her and the heap of pillows closer to the edge of the bed and lifted her rump higher, exposing her swollen pussy. A droplet of moisture clung to her thigh and he bent to lap it up. Heat burned his cheek from her well-spanked leg and he pressed his lips to the handprint, cherishing his mark on her skin.

Teri moaned and, anxious to amp up the mood, he buried his face in her cunt, licking and sucking and drinking in her sweetness. How long had it been since he’d eaten her out? Her thrashing fed his passion and he rested a hand on her butt cheek, where raised prints marked her. His handprints. He’d love to spank a little more, but he didn’t want to cause her any harm.

Maybe on their vacation. He could bring along a few things and add to the fun. A hair brush, wooden spoon…his cock jerked.

He lifted his face, smiling when she groaned in protest.

“Sweetheart,” he announced, “we are going on our trip.”

“No, I…oh, God.”

He sucked on her clit, holding it between his teeth with just enough pressure to send her to the moon and back. Teri bucked against him and he stopped again. “Wrong answer.” Pinning her knees to the mattress, Roy held her in place, to give her time to think. “Well?”

She whimpered.

He licked her, from front to back, and added a soft slap to her backside.

“I can’t.”

He tweaked her clit with two fingers and applied pressure. “Teri, this is an important decision. I suggest you think carefully because I won’t ask again.” Lifting his hand, he waited.

“You aren’t playing fair.” She panted and reached back, pushing at his head, but he held firm. Her musk drove him mad, made it crazy difficult to hold still, but he played for life. For their life together. “Okay, fine. I will make it work. If it’s so important to you.”

Damn right. He dove into her warmth, licking and sucking like a madman, devouring her and rejoicing in the small victory. Driving two fingers inside her pussy, he added a third and spread them, drawing her clit into his mouth and closing his teeth over it hard enough to send her over the edge, shaking all over. Gentle had never worked for his ambitious, driven woman.

Rising, he grabbed his cock and directed it into her sopping hole. “Good girl.” Thrusting to the hilt and rising back, he savored the tight sheath rippling around his dick. She still clenched with her orgasm and he wanted to give her another before he took his own pleasure, but it wouldn’t take long. Her glowing bottom against his groin lit his fire like nothing ever before. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her and reached to stroke her between her legs. Within seconds, she shrieked his name and flung herself around like a rag doll in the throes of another orgasm. His balls tightened and cum surged up and into her, pumping into his wife’s sweet body.

Dropping onto the bed beside her, he gathered her and held her tight. She might never know how precious she was to him, but he did. He’d do anything to save their marriage and keep her close. And if it turned them both on in the process, bonus!

They would go to the island paradise where he would tell her it was time to start a family. And, perhaps, she would agree. Darkness closed over him in the first peaceful rest he’d had in recorded memory. He didn’t even get up to take his bedtime antacid.

Monday, July 7, 2014

DARK DESIRE by Shannan Albright

DARK DESIRE by Shannan Albright

Dark Breed Enforcers Book 4

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

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

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

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

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday, July 5, 2014

WHEN OPPOSITES ATTRACT by Jules Bennett

WHEN OPPOSITES ATTRACT by Jules Bennett

The Barrington Trilogy

"When I want something, I find a way to make it mine."

After a near-fatal accident, Hollywood hotshot Grant Carter never imagined returning to the equestrian world. But producing a movie about a racing dynasty means he has no choice. Luckily Tessa Barrington, star jockey, provides the distraction he needs—feisty attitude, stunning looks…and a surprising innocence he can't resist.

Tessa won't give herself to just any man, especially a smooth-talking player like Grant. Once filming wraps, how can she trust he'll stick around? He's already keeping secrets.

Besides, Tessa has her eye on bigger prizes…unless falling in love is the biggest prize of all, for both of them.

BUY THE BOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT

~Excerpt~

With a nice, round backside greeting him as he stepped over the threshold of the fancy stables, Grant Carter was more certain than ever that accepting this film project was not only a chance of a lifetime, it was a gift from God.

He might be looking to settle down and calm his ways, but to ignore the perfection displayed before him would be a sin. Besides, Grant knew his place, and he hadn't worked this hard in Hollywood to blow it just because temptation seemed to be glaring right in his face. Literally.

Temptation would have to wait, because producing a film revolving around horse-racing icon Damon Barrington was an opportunity he couldn't pass up…no matter the nightmares that followed him here.

The shapely woman in front of him might be a slight distraction, but that's all she could be. The new clause typed up in his contract had been reinforced before his arrival at Stony Ridge. Apparently, fraternizing with anyone involved in this film was a no-no. Shame, that.

Besides, even without the clause, nothing could cripple him more than being thrust back into the world of horses. But he could compartmentalize and he could be a professional on set. He simply couldn't let personal conflicts pass the barrier he'd built around his heart.

Grant eyed the round bottom hugged by tight black riding pants. Damn clause and personal demons.

The familiar smells of the straw, the feed, the leather saddles; the sight of beautiful Thoroughbreds… The combination brought back memories—memories that had no place in his life. Especially now.

Concentrate on the backside. A body like that could surely cure all ails. Even if she was off-limits, he had already taken a mental picture to fuel fantasies.

"Excuse me. Can you tell me where I can find Tessa Barrington?" he asked, carefully stepping farther into the stables, straw crunching beneath his new boots.

The petite, yet curvy woman stood up, turned and slid the vibrant red ponytail back over her shoulder. And he'd be a complete liar if he tried to deny the punch to the gut he felt when those sapphire eyes landed on him. In an instant, he wondered how many times she'd used those intriguing eyes to lure a man into her clutches.

Between the body and the face, she was a stunner, but he wouldn't be as cliched as to say so. No doubt she had men falling all over her, and he refused to be so predictable.

"Are you the producer?" she asked, setting aside the brush she'd been using on the horse.

"One of them. Grant Carter." He closed the gap between them and extended his hand.

"I'm Tessa."

Surprise slid through him, but he prevented himself from dropping his jaw…just barely. So, he'd been admiring the beautiful jockey. Interesting.

When she propped her hands on her slender waist, just above her flared hips, he nearly swallowed his tongue. That sweet little package all wrapped in denim and plaid? Who knew he had a thing for country girls? Of course, Tessa Barrington was hardly just a country girl. This woman put the fear of God in most male jockeys, trainers and owners, if rumor served correctly.

"My father said you'd be arriving today." She gripped his hand, her gaze sliding down to his feet. "Pretty shiny boots you got there, Slick. We'll have to scuff those up a bit."

He couldn't help but smile at her piercing glare, her judgmental words. A woman who didn't hold back and wasn't throwing herself at him? He liked her already.

When she pulled her hand from his, Grant hated how such delicate features had calluses on them, but he knew this jockey took her lifestyle seriously. She didn't get to be the number-one contender in the country by sitting on the sidelines sipping mint juleps and wearing oversize hats.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he told her, offering a smile. "I have to say, you're quite impressive."

A perfectly sculpted brow lifted as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

Grant laughed. "That didn't come out right."

Seriously? Was he in high school and suddenly unable to form an intelligent sentence?

"What I meant to say was I'm impressed with your talents."

Damn it. Nothing was working for him right now.

"I'm assuming you mean because of my racing," she replied, her brow still raised.

Relieved that she'd let him off the hook, he tilted his head. "I know you have a busy schedule—"

"It's beyond busy, Mr. Carter."

"Call me Grant," he told her, cutting off that curt tone. "We'll be spending a great deal of time together over the next couple of weeks."

Tessa turned, picked up the brush and stepped back into the stall with the stud. "Mr. Carter—"

"Grant," he reminded her with a grin.

Her eyes darted to his, then back to the horse she'd been brushing. "Mr. Carter, my schedule is pretty tight. I came up with a spreadsheet so you can see when I'm practicing, when I'm working in the stables and when I have time blocked off for you. Your area on the sheet is green. I would like to stick to this spreadsheet, but if you have other engagements during our time, I can attempt to rework it."

Grant tried his hardest not to burst out laughing. She was starting to sound like his oh-soorganized twin sister…or at least how he remembered his sister before her accident.

Seeing as how Tessa still hadn't shown a hint of a smile, he assumed she was dead serious. Wow, this woman would be tough to crack. He loved a challenge, but something told him she wanted nothing to do with this movie. Most people would be thrilled to know Hollywood wanted to make a film around their life and on their property. The majority of the women he knew would give their entire shoe collection to be associated with a Bronson Dane movie with Max Ford as lead actor.

Grant watched as Tessa stroked the horse's mane with precision and care. This woman was obviously not impressed with him or this film. She seemed to be in her own world of details and structure, from the spreadsheet to her perfectly placed low ponytail. He had a feeling the beautiful Tessa Barrington rarely had her feathers ruffled.

And he'd so love to ruffle her. But beyond coproducing this film, he couldn't get swept back into the world that had ruined his family's life. He had to keep any personal emotions off this set. His next goal, of starting his own production company, was within reach, and he'd be damned if he'd let his guilt and fear hold him back.

"When is my first time slot, Tessa?" he asked, propping his hands on his hips as he took a step back from the open stall. "My team will be arriving in a month, and I plan on outlining the sites for the order of filming after I visit all the locations. But I'm flexible. I'll work around you."

With perfect ease, she turned, tapped the brush against her palm and tipped her head. "I know my father agreed to have me help you, but my racing has and always will come first. I should make it clear I'm not happy about this film and I don't endorse any part of it."

Grant couldn't help but grin. Apparently Tessa wasn't a fan of having her work disrupted. Actually, she was a refreshing change from the women who stumbled over themselves to get his attention because of his celebrity status and his bank account. Tessa was obviously impressed with neither, which only made her even more intriguing.

"I understand you're a busy woman," he repeated, hoping to use a little charm to get on her good side. "I'll try not to take up too much of your time."

"I only agreed to let you shadow me because I refuse for this film to be anything but accurate. I don't want my father's life spun into something ugly or devious."

Interesting. Clearly, Tessa had had an unpleasant experience somewhere along the way, and now Grant was in her path of anger. Lovely. Nothing like spending the next month working closely with a bitter woman.

"I will make sure this movie is done to everyone's satisfaction and is the best film we can produce," he promised.

"Looks like we'll both be getting our way, then," she said with a tight smile.

Both get their way? His eyes roamed over her delicate frame. Oh, the possibilities. Slipping that tight ponytail down would be the first. Unbuttoning her stiff shirt would be next.

And making use of that empty stall would be another.

Yeah, this would definitely be a long month.

Tessa knew when a man was attracted; she wasn't stupid. And in all honesty, she found this hotshot producer pretty sexy, but she'd built up an immunity to sexy, smooth talkers.

Besides, the last guy who'd captured her attention was a city boy through and through. His polished shoes, designer suits and perfectly coiffed hair hadn't bothered her. What bothered her was when he'd decided to use her name and finances to further his small-business venture.

There was no way Tessa would let herself get sidelined by some captivating, powerful stranger from Hollywood just because he made her heart beat a bit quicker with that one-sided smile and those heavy-lidded eyes.

Most twenty-five-year-old women were getting married and having babies. Tessa opted to chase her own set of dreams—the Triple Crown.

There was no time for serious relationships when she lived in a stable, training most hours of the day. And she most definitely thought more of herself than to let go of her innocence for a quickie.

Besides, she'd learned the hard way how cruel relationships could be and how the word trust meant different things to different people.

"I need to take Oliver out for a ride," she told Grant, hoping he'd take those sultry eyes and be on his way for now. "I assumed when Dad said you'd arrive today, it would be later, so I had blocked out a two hour window for you after lunch."

He checked his watch. "I can come back, but it may help if I have that spreadsheet, so I know when not to disturb you."

Tessa sighed. He was mocking her. That was fine; she was used to it. But the last guy who'd decided to make a joke of her had found himself out one girlfriend and a whole lot of pride by the time she'd finished with him. Of course, his mocking had come on a whole other, more painful level.

She moved to the next stall, where Oliver, her beautiful Thoroughbred, waited for his warm-up. Oliver wasn't her racing horse. No, he was her baby, and she loved him as dearly as she would her own child. He was a bit finicky, a bit hyper some might say, but Tessa and he understood each other. And they pretty much both loathed outsiders.

"I'll bring that spreadsheet to our meeting," she told Grant as she slid open the stall. Oliver, restless as usual, started his bucking dance, his way of letting her know he was more than ready to go. "I can meet you back here in two hours—"

One second she was talking and the next she was in Grant's arms. She hadn't seen him move, but suddenly he was pulling her away from the opening in the stall.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking up into the most impressive set of dark, near-black eyes.

Grant stood frozen, his arms wrapped around her, his eyes now wide and focused on Oliver. With his attention not directly on her, she could take a moment to appreciate the strong jawline beneath the dark stubble, the tanned skin, his firm grip on her, giving her the opportunity to learn that he had fabulous muscle tone beneath that new gray flannel shirt.

And he smelled so damn good. Perhaps she was just glad to be inhaling something other than hay and horse poop, but Grant Carter's aftershave, cologne or the combination of both was masculine, strong and sexy…just like the man.

"Grant?" she asked, sliding from his grasp.

His gaze went from the stallion to her and held, before he shook his head as if to focus.

"He jumped when you started to step in," Grant told her, taking a step back and raking a hand through his short, messy hair. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

Still confused at his overreaction, but a little touched by his instant ride to the rescue, Tessa crossed her arms. "Hurt? I won't get hurt tending to the horses, Grant. Oliver is always like this. That's why I'm the only one who handles him."

Grant shrugged. "My apologies. I'm just not used to horses."

She tilted her head, still trying to get a feel for this newcomer into her world. "Are you going to be okay on this set?"

"I'm fine." He sent her another killer, knee-weakening smile. "I didn't want you hurt, that's all."

The way those dark eyes held hers, and the soft, yet firm tone of his voice washed over her like a warm, protective blanket. She didn't want to feel anything for this man. But that protective streak, and an underlying secret vulnerability, made him even more attractive in her eyes.

"I don't think that's all," she commented, calling him out on whatever seemed to cripple him. "I don't want to be rude, but you are working on a film about horses. Shouldn't you know something about them?"

That sexy smile spread wider across his face as Grant eased forward with a slow, easy stride any cowboy would envy.

But this man was from L.A., the city of sin and silicone. If it weren't for the newly purchased clothes, which were so fresh looking they might as well have the tags dangling, Tessa would swear he lived on a farm.

But he was in the film industry. He probably always looked the part. Appearances were everything to shallow people.

Grant stopped when the tips of their boots nearly touched, and she had to either stare at the way his dark gray flannel stretched across his firm pecs, or glance up and meet that dark gaze. Either body part would tempt a nun, and Tessa was finding it hard to remember what she was saying when he towered over her and looked straight down into her eyes as if he could see her deepest secrets.

She'd been tempted before in her twenty-five years, but never this fast, this hard. Tessa feared she might be in over her head with Grant Carter because they'd been in each other's presence for mere moments, which was barely a blip on the radar in the grand scheme of things.

"Learning all about horses is why I have you. I've waited years to get a project of this caliber." His eyes roamed over her face, from her eyes to her lips and back up. "And when I want something, I find a way to make it mine."

Friday, July 4, 2014

CHASING EROS by Sam Cheever

THE CHASING EROS Box Set by Sam Cheever


The Chasing Eros box set includes three books featuring Cupids, the Gods of Love, and their struggle against their own weaknesses and magical interference to find love. Chasing Eros is set in a magical world that navigates between modern day Earth and golden Olympus--City of the Gods.

Book 1: Eros Unbridled: In the battle for true love, sometimes those who aren't willing to fight sustain the most damage.

Like generations of Cupids before her, Daphne Charissa is doomed to a long and loveless life. Tall, smart and sexy, Bion Chronos is everything she's ever wanted in a man...and nothing she can ever have. The Fates have decreed that none of the Cupid race will ever know lifelong love. But love has a funny way of testing fate, and the power of a woman's tears should never be underestimated.


Book 2: Eros Unchecked: Love can grow amid monsters and misunderstandings. If only she has the strength to grasp it.

Athena Googlios' new client is everything she thinks she wants in a lover. But Damian Leandar is a man of dangerous secrets and complex problems. Tormented by mythological beasts and struggling with her own innate prejudice...Athena is in danger of letting her perfect man slip away. Just as she realizes how much she wants him to stay.


Book 3: Eros Uncensored: He might have been high on Brimstone when he met her. But he wasn't too drugged to recognize a good thing when she stuck a knife under his chin!

Hermes figured he had no future, so he gave up, wasting his days inhaling Brimstone in a Succubi House on Olympus. Cursed from birth, Nidras knew her future was sketchy at best. But the last thing she intended to do was give up. She thought she had to fight the curse alone, but she never counted on a drug muddled Cupid setting his sights on her and gumming up the works. Especially one as sexy and fun as Hermes. So what if he didn't have the first clue how to protect himself in her dangerous world? It didn't stop him from trying!

BUY THE BOX SET *** READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt

From Eros Uncensored:

Inside the castle, we kept to the walls and shadows down a maze of long, stone hallways. My inner compass told me we were heading toward the back of the palace, deep into its ugly, stone bowels. The air was cold, damp and smelled like mildew. The stone walls we scraped against were covered in green slime. The floor was slick with the same green stain.

My curly toed shoes didn’t have much traction against the slime. It was all I could do to stay upright.
The only light in the halls came from the occasional torch, sending smelly, black oil smoke into the air to mix with the mildew.

All around us the skitter of little critter feet danced across the stone floor. Probably rats.

“I like what he’s done with the place.”

“Shh!”

I lowered my voice. “This place is like a bad cliché.”

She glared at me but didn’t respond.

We climbed several sets of stone stairs and emerged into a larger, slightly better lit area. The large, wooden door opposite the stairwell was guarded.

I looked at Nidras and sneered.

The two gremlins were about three feet tall. They had soft, dark brown fur covering their bodies and a lighter, golden fur on their faces.

Their brown eyes were enormous and soft, giving them a decidedly squeezable look.

Nidras shook her head and stepped out, knives in hand.

The gremlins blinked once, twice and then were suddenly airborne. They hit us in a wash of fur and froth, their tiny little fur faces transformed in the blink of an eye into gaping maws filled with razor sharp teeth.
My rabid teddy bear clamped its teeth over the forearm I’d instinctively thrown up to protect my face and worked it with surprising strength. I swung my arm hard in an attempt to dislodge it but the thing held on, its teeth ripping through skin, muscle and even bone as I tried to shake it off me.

In my panic I momentarily forgot to use my sword.

Nidras had flung her gremlin to the ground and was plunging a knife into its tiny chest. I couldn’t get my teddy bear off me.

Finally, in desperation, I grabbed my sword and pulled it free with my left hand, arcing it through the air toward the furry little body.

The gremlin swung its back legs up and wrapped them around my arm, making itself too small a target for me to reach with my sword. Unless I wanted to lop my own arm off.

Pain radiated from my torn and bleeding arm. I was pretty sure I’d have a big scar.

I looked up and saw Nidras standing with her arms crossed, one dark eyebrow lifted in a definite “I told you so” expression. Her knives were back in their sheaths.

“You could help me here.”

She shrugged. “It’s just an oversized teddy bear.”

Okay, I probably deserved that.

I swung around and slammed the gremlin up against the wall. My elbow screamed from the impact but the thing stopped chewing on my arm and blinked. I slammed it a second and then third time, finally managing to drop it to the ground at my feet.

Blood ran from my arm as I jammed my sword into the gremlin’s chest, finishing it off.

I motioned toward the door. “After you.”

Nidras’ face softened as she looked at my torn arm. “Let me heal that for you.”

I shook my head. “I’m wearing it as a reminder that I’m an ass.”

Her perfect, peach-tinted lips tipped up slightly at the corners. “How about if I heal it and just keep tellingyou you’re an ass?” When I still hesitated she offered, “I can leave a scar to remind you.”

I thought about this for a minute. My hand was already going numb and I figured it would be hard to use my sword soon. “Okay.”

“Watch the door while I work.” Nidras placed exquisitely soft hands over my forearm and closed her eyes.
Energy and light flooded the area around and under her hands and I gasped as intense heat infused tender, torn flesh. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I kept one eye on the door as pain seared up my arm and made my pulse pound in my temples.

Finally the pain and heat slid away and Nidras stepped back.

I looked at my arm. “There’s no scar.”

She shrugged, pulling her knives. “So I lied. I’m pretty sure you’ll have lots more reminders that you’re an ass.”

“Demon woman.”


Thursday, July 3, 2014

GAMES GIRLS PLAY by BA Tortuga



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

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

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


By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

An Excerpt From: GAMES GIRLS PLAY

Copyright © BA TORTUGA, 2014

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nice long fuck?

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

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

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

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

“I’m going to hurt you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Irish nachos for my Fair Isle girl.”

“Yours?”

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

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

THE GRAND DUCHESS by Tianna Xander

THE GRAND DUCHESS by Tianna Xander

Taos Wolven Mates 3

Ann Chirkoff has suffered from amnesia since the age of fourteen and the police found her roaming the streets of Orlando. She has no idea what she’s in for when a bright light transports her to a world different from her own. She only knows something about the trip is familiar. Impossibly, she finds herself in the Old West. How will she survive, especially when her memories come flooding back, reminding her of who she is and the danger that could follow her?

Chancellor Max Marholt and his second in command, Matt Tanaga, hear two miners accosting a woman and her young companion. Without a thought, they run to the rescue. Realizing the woman is their mate, they claim them as their own and hope for the best. The two alpha males don’t expect Ann to see their hidden emotions that they’ve kept from everyone, including each other.

BUY THE eBOOK   ***   READ THE EXCERPT

~Excerpt~

“What was that?” Maxim turned at the sound of a high-pitched wail. He frowned.

“It sounds like a child,” Matteus replied. “You don’t think those damned miners are trying to screw one again do you? What is it about those sick bastards trying to rape little boys?”

“I have no idea, but I do know that I would love to put at least two of them out of everyone’s misery.” Max ran toward the screams. He hoped to get there before the disgusting miners scarred the poor child for life.

Matt rounded the corner first, his eyes going wide. “Holy God. They’ve killed someone.”

Maxim smiled at Matt’s words. Death was never a good thing, but if it got a few of those sick bastards out of town on a prison wagon, at least the loss of life wasn’t a total waste.

They each skidded to a stop as they looked down at the dark, red-gold hair spread out around the face of an angel.

Taking a deep breath, the woman’s scent filled his nostrils and everything in him went still for a moment before his wolf snarled with rage. This woman could be his mate. He looked at Matteus. She could very well be mate to both of them, and someone had hurt her, possibly killed her.

A growl formed deep in his throat as he stood looking at the first woman on this Earth, hell, in the universe that had stirred his senses in over two hundred years.

He looked at the man who stood over her with a leer on his face and growled again. “Don’t touch her!” It was all he could do to keep himself from turning into his wolf and ripping the miner’s throat out. Who in the helldid he think he was, laying a hand upon any decent woman?

“I’ll touch her if I damned well please. She’s my whore. I saw her first.” The miner bent down and thrust his dirty fingers into her beautiful hair.

“Touch her again and pull back a nub.” The look on Matt’s face said he meant business. No one defied Max’s second-in-command when he used that look. Hell, Max had a hard time ignoring that look, and he was Chancellor of Taos and ruler of their kind. He wasn’t intimidated by anyone, but that look Matt got on occasion had always been enough to give him pause.

When the miner continued reaching toward their mate, both he and Matt growled. The two miners froze in place. The sound was…inhuman, as it should have been, considering they were wolven. They were what these men would call werewolves here on this planet. However, the miners didn’t know that.

“What’s the matter with you?” Elmer spat on the ground in front of him. “She’s nothin’ but a whore.” He grinned and then grabbed his crotch. “You can have a turn after we’re done with them.”

Max knelt down, brushed the hair from the beauty’s face, and glared at the man who dared to strike a female. “Leave us, or die, Fred.” He growled again and just for the hell of it, he let some of the predator glow show in his eyes.

Fred swallowed visibly. The acrid scent of fear poured off the man in waves and he stood, backing away. “Let’s get outta here, Elmer.” He backed up a few paces and helped his friend to his feet. “She’s probably no fun anyway. I don’t know of any good whore that would kick a man’s jewels up into his throat.”

The two left. Fred limped away, his friend supporting him, while he still held a hand pressed against his crotch. Elmer hovered close to his friend, complaining about harlots who didn’t know their place.

Max turned his attention back to their mate. A bruise bloomed on the side of her face in the short time he knelt over her. The only reason the two miners still lived was because they had no idea she was their mate. Otherwise, he would have killed them where they stood. Part of him still thought he should. If any human was nothing more than a waste of skin, it was those two.

Matt leaned down intending to talk to the boy, trying to gain his trust while Max reached for the woman, picked her up in his arms, then stood and looked down. As much as he wanted to give Matt the time he needed to get the boy to come along without a fight, he knew they needed to get the woman out of this town before she woke up. There was no doubt that she would never leave town with them willingly if she regained consciousness first.

“I am Max,” he said to the boy. Pointing to Matt, he added, “And this is Matteus, though you may call him Matt. We wish to help your mother. Will you allow it?”

The boy, who couldn’t have been more than ten or so, looked up at him through wide blue eyes and said something in a language he didn’t understand.

“Wonderful. He doesn’t speak English,” Max said with a sigh, resting his hands on his hips as he turned toward the livery. “I hope she does, or this is going to be an interesting courtship. Bring the boy, Matt. We need to get her home and into bed. There’s no telling what kind of damage those two did to her.”

Max looked down at his unconscious mate and wanted nothing more than to tear the two worthless men limb from limb, but he knew that would only end in a jail sentence for both him and Matt. It went without saying that they would reveal what they were as well, and that was something he couldn’t do, no matter how badly his wolf howled for retribution. It would put all of the wolven here on Earth at risk.

Turning, he headed toward the large barn where they’d stowed their horses. “I want to have her all to ourselves and away from this town when she wakes up.”

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