BROKEN by Zena Wynn

BROKEN by Zena Wynn

The exciting conclusion to Beyond the Breaking Point...

Max Desalvo is a broken man. Two years ago he gave his heart, soul and body to another man’s wife, Cassidy Brannon. And, he’d thought, his child. They’d made promises, vows. One year. One year for Cassidy to secure her freedom, so they could be together. Unable to be in the same city with Cassidy and not see her, hear her voice, or touch her, Max left. While gone he waited, waited, and waited for the call that never came.

Now he’s returned to Philly, his home. Running into Cassidy was inevitable, but she isn’t the woman he remembers. If he’s broken, she’s shattered. Phillip, her husband, is dead. Why hadn’t Cassidy contacted him once she was free? And why does she gaze at him with eyes full of hurt and mistrust, as though he were the one to break her heart?

Max has a choice. Discover the truth of what happened and reclaim the love he’s lost or forever remain…broken.

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Excerpt:

Maximillan Desalvo stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, looking out over the glittering cityscape that was downtown Philadelphia at night, cradling a glass of bourbon on the rocks. Behind him came the murmur of conversation as the cream of Philly society mixed and mingled in their sophisticated finery. They’d congregated together to donate outrageous sums of money to this event’s charity. Women in jewel toned cocktail dresses and black evening gowns conversed with gentlemen in their finest suits or, like Max, personally owned tuxedos. He was here but somehow removed from it all.

At last he’d come home. Home to heal from the devastating heartbreak he’d incurred in this city of brotherly love when the love of his life, the woman he’d given his everything to, had cast him aside in favor of her low-life, cheating husband—his former best friend. Cassidy Brannon had destroyed him.

Max grimaced at his image in the darkened window. In the last two years he’d lost weight. His face was leaner, harder, his gaze cynical. He took another sip of the bourbon he’d come to depend on a little too heavily in the last year and a half. It was time to pull himself together.

Still, as he looked out over the metropolis, he couldn’t help but wonder. Was Cassidy out there? Was she even now lying in the arms of her husband? Making love to him? Giving Phillip the words of love she’d once given him? Were they once more the happy little family?

How long before the bastard cheated on her again? How long before Cassidy realized she’d made a mistake and thrown away the best thing that ever happened to her—him? Last time, it had taken two years for Phillip’s true nature to show. Would it take less or more this time? Whatever the case, Cassidy had made her choice. Now she’d have to live with it.

Max knew his family, particularly his mother, worried about him. Momma wanted him to forget the past, settle down with a nice Catholic girl—preferably Italian—and make babies. His father wanted him to return practicing the law he’d abandoned or join the family’s restaurant business. All of them wanted him to lay off the booze. 

He wished to hell he could.

How could he forget the woman who, for a time, made him feel more of a man than he’d ever felt in his life? Who’d completed and complemented him the way no other had or ever would? The answer was he couldn’t.

He’d tried to in the bottom of liquor bottles and between the thighs of sexy, beautiful women. With his financial status, he had unlimited access to both. Women lined up to spread their legs in exchange for his wealth, hoping to acquire his temporary favor. Cassidy was the only woman who hadn’t been interested in his bank account.

Scowling at his inability to keep her out of his head, even after all of this time, Max took a big gulp of his drink and swung around suddenly with the intent to go get another double. He crashed into someone, and the remaining contents of his glass sloshed over the side and onto the woman’s chest. 

She gasped as the cold liquid and ice hit her.

“Shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” Max apologized, grabbing the woman’s arm to keep her from falling.
“It’s okay. I didn’t see you standing there in the cor—” She looked up from swiping at her neckline and her words trailed off. “Max?”

“Cassidy?” Automatically his hold tightened as he stared. 

For a brief second, the shock on her face transformed into one of pure pleasure. Then, as though a switch were thrown, blanked to nothingness. Max couldn’t stop his gaze from eating her up. The long hair he’d loved to wrap around his wrist as he made love to her was gone. She’d cut it so that it barely brushed her shoulders. The arm he held felt fragile, as though the bone would break if he gripped it too tightly. Her normally slim figure appeared gaunt beneath the loose flowing outfit she wore. Even her oval face was thinner, the long line of her slender neck more delicate. But she was still beautiful, even with those black shadows under her eyes and the sickly yellow undertone to her stunning golden-brown complexion.

“I thought you’d left the country?” Cassidy said, now looking like she wanted to be anywhere but with him. She subtly withdrew but Max held firm, his hand ignoring his mental command to release her. 

“I’m back,” he said flatly, wondering how she’d known. Had Cassidy checked up on him? 

Before he could ask, a server stooped down and lifted something. “Ma’am, is this your cane?”

Cassidy reached out and grasped the fancy walking stick with her free hand. “Yes, thank you for getting it for me.” To Max she said, “Welcome home. I’m sure your family is happy to have you back. I need to—”
“Max, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why are you hiding over here in the corner?” 

Gianna, his date for the night, came up and clutched him by the arm, leaning her voluptuous body against his left side. 

If he hadn’t been watching Cassidy so intently, he’d have missed the flash of pain that crossed her features before she looked away. Tugging insistently, she said stiffly, “Excuse me. I need to take care of this before it stains.”

Max didn’t want to let her go. It had been too long since he’d seen her. To remind his stubborn heart Cassidy was off limits, Max asked brusquely, “Where’s your husband?”

Some indefinable emotion flashed in her expressive brown eyes. “He’s dead.”

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THE BIGGEST POSER by Sam Cheever

THE BIGGEST POSER by Sam Cheever


May the biggest liar win. Or die trying!

Personal trainer for the ever popular, Lose it! reality show, Jillie Maxwell is up for the most important award of her career. And she’s competing against the biggest b-eye-itch she’s ever met. Fortunately for her, she has the sexiest man alive in her corner. Problem is, each and every one of them has a dirty little secret that could tank a career.

For the contestants, the race is on to lose the most weight and win everything. For the staff of the popular weight loss show, the clock is ticking to the culmination of their lies and the possibility of losing it all.

Will the Biggest Poser win? Or will the lies just grow and grow until they sink the whole show? Only one thing is certain. Whatever happens, it’s gonna be an entertaining ride!

4.5 Stars Single Titles: "The Biggest turned out to be an amazing story. Little things keep going wrong in the competition and all evidence seems to point one way but as the story unfolds, the fabric of all the lies starts to come unraveled. Who is The Biggest Poser? Read this delightfully fun, sexy story to find out. You will not be disappointed in The Biggest Poser by Sam Cheever."Debby Guyette, Single Titles

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Excerpt:

He was so close she could smell the clean musk scent of his aftershave and feel the moist heat of his breath. His muscular thigh flexed against her leg as he leaned in to cut a bite of asparagus.

As he lifted it to her lips, his gaze fixed on her mouth. His tongue swept over his bottom lip as if anticipating her taste. Jillie’s body tightened with need and her mouth quivered in anticipation of kissing him.

She took the spear of green off the end of the fork, sliding her tongue over her lips to get every ounce of its flavor.

The asparagus was perfect. Slightly crisp and tart with balsamic vinegar.

Brandt watched her chew and licked his lips. “I love balsamic. Let me try.”

She expected him to cut himself another bite, but instead he leaned close and slid his tongue over her slightly parted lips.

“Mmm. Delicious. I need to try the steak too.”

He cut another sliver of meat and doused it liberally with the rich sauce. As he placed it on her tongue, she drew it in, curling her tongue slowly around it, before chewing.

Brandt lowered his head and took her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking gently. He moaned. “Incredible. The sauce is exquisite. What’s your secret ingredient?”

She closed the distance between them and nibbled on his full lower lip. “There’s a reason they call it a secret ingredient.”

He slid his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder, and wrapped it lightly around her throat, tipping her chin so he could trail kisses along the place where her blood pulsed with growing excitement. “I bet I can get it out of you.” His voice had deepened and grown husky with lust.

The sound of it abraded her overcharged nerves, making her shiver. “Just as long as you know I’m holding out as long as I can.”

He sucked an earlobe into his mouth and gently bit down. “As you know, I love a challenge.”

She gasped. When her nipples peaked hard against the soft cotton of her thigh-length T-shirt, Jillie figured he had to be able to feel them against his arm. She pressed closer, driving the painfully hard peaks into his muscular flesh. “Are you hungry?”

His lips feathered along her jaw line and lifted, stopping a mere breath away from her lips. “Starving.” Then he lowered them and claimed her mouth in an aggressive, hungry kiss.

Jillie wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in, draping her legs across his lap and allowing him to pull her onto the tiny chair with him. His arms enveloped her, holding her close enough to feel every hard, sexy line of his long body.

She pulled away after a moment and reached for her wine, needing to give herself a moment to cool down or she was going to lay him out in the thick grass and have her way with him right there.

She took a sip as he skimmed his hands along her bare legs, fighting the urge to spread her knees and let him in. They could so easily be discovered in that very public spot. She sipped her wine and placed it against his lips, tipping it for him to drink.

When she pulled away, a drop of wine trickled down his stubbled chin. She leaned in and swept it away with her tongue.

Brandt groaned. “I think I’ve turned permanently blue in some of my favorite parts.”

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THE THREE SISTERS SERIES by LaVerne Thompson and Stephanie Williams

THE THREE SISTERS SERIES - Boxed Set by LaVerne Thompson and Stephanie Williams

The Three Sisters Series
What won’t these sisters do? Or the men whose hearts they've captured.

RINGSIDE- Atlanta Reese is the baby of the family and on a quest to find herself. Only she ends up in New Mexico and whips up a chili recipe that leaves the restaurant owner, Hank Gaines: hot, bothered, and begging for more.

Hank knew he was in trouble the moment he tasted her heat. But he had a secret he could never let Atlanta find out about or he'd lose it all.

NORTHERN EXPOSURE- Brittany loves the cold and adventure. She now finds herself near the Artic Circle trying out remote control panties with a Finn she met on a nude beach.

Sebastian had been waiting for a chance to get the beauty he'd seen around to himself. Now that he holds the controls, he's not giving them back.

MASQUERADE - Sydney as the big sister was always the responsible one, she always did the right thing. Until one night she puts on a disguise and goes after her fantasy man.

Caine knew the moment he held the masked woman in his arms she was the one for him, yet why was it when he held Sydney he never wanted to let her go.

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Excerpts

RINGSIDE

Atlanta took a long sip of her beer and placed it on the napkin in front of her. Taking her book out of her bag, she began to read as she waited for her food. She was on the section, Don’t Settle for Less than you Deserve, for the third time. Right on! Atlanta’s men issues were no different than the other stuff going on in her life. She’d yet to meet one she wanted to keep, or hang around long enough to find out if he was even worth keeping.

“Welcome to Ringside. Are you finding everything to your liking?”

Atlanta moved the book from her face and looked into the light blue eyes of a striking looking man. He was tall, a little over six feet, and very well built. That was evident in the way his black shirt seemed painted on his body. His biceps screamed to get out, but he didn’t look like a body builder prepped on steroids. Just nice tight lines.

His face could have been sculpted from the finest marble; the only thing keeping his features from being too perfect was a little bump in the middle of his slender nose, like it may have been broken at some point in his life. But it only added to his overall appeal. The color of his hair drew her attention next; it was blacker than anything she’d ever seen. Thick and wavy, it hung just to his collar. She wanted to run her fingers through it and see if it felt as soft and silky as it looked.

This man was a walking orgasm, and she was not shy about her appraisal of him. She might have to keep this one for a while.

NORTHERN EXPOSURE 

Helsinki was unusually warm this August with temperatures hitting about sixty degrees. But Brit didn’t mind; it was a welcome relief. She had been cooped up in her room since her arrival, so seeing the sun out and actually heating the earth was refreshing.

Now she could hit the clothing-optional beach.

Brit was always of the opinion that instead of wearing string that cut into your butt crack and strips of fabric that scratch your nipples, you might as well go naked. In Europe, no one really looks at you anyway.

Brit strolled down to the beach with her umbrella, magazine, blanket and iPod. She set up her spot and got comfortable on her blanket. She placed the magazine over her face, stuck the ear buds in her ears, and listened to the glorious voice of Luciano Pavarotti. Ten minutes later, she was on her way to dreamland.
This was the life. No worries. No nagging parents. No annoying, geeky ex-boyfriend. No drama.

“Hello there.”

At first she didn’t respond. She was in that state of sleep between deep REM and half awake.

“Hello? Miss?” The voice was insistent, deep and masculine.

Masculine!

It wasn’t until she felt a nudge on her shoulder that Brit threw off the magazine, and sat up on her elbows. What she was looking at could only be described as mythical beauty.

He was large, muscular, gorgeous and…nekkid! Oh God!

MASQUERADE

Sydney didn’t know what had possessed her, maybe Annie nudging her in the ribs, and practically pushing her toward the tall man with the broad shoulders and blond hair. Even in a room full of similarly clad men, he stood out. She had been watching him from the balcony the moment he entered the room. Annie was at her side and had pointed him out to her, but by the time her friend had spotted him she had already been watching him for five minutes make his way around the room.

From a distance, he looked like a walking fantasy, but up close his six-feet-two or more presence invited and enticed her into engaging him in pure unadulterated sex.

Eyes, the blue of the Caribbean Sea looked out at her from behind a dark mask. The black satin provided an intense contrast to his thick blond hair streaked with varying shades of gold and curled around the nape of his neck. The unmasked skin around a full sensual mouth appeared slightly tanned, like he had recently gotten a little sun. His strong squared jaw line shifted slightly as he stared at her. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face, what she could see of it. Then he smiled, showing beautiful straight white teeth and a small dimple appeared on one side of lips.

A smile of her own answered his.

Without a word, he raised his arms away from his sides, as though opening them for her to walk into. The movement brought her attention to his sculptured chest. Was that a six-pack? Maybe there was something to be said for shirtless.

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COME TO ME by LaVerne Thompson

COME TO ME by LaVerne Thompson

Confirmed bachelor Baron Munro doesn't believe in love, much less love at first sight. But what about love at first sound? It wasn't until he heard Jasmine Sandler's voice that he realized his life was missing something.

Jasmine didn't know what to make of the man who haunted her days and invaded her nights. She knew the sound of his voice as intimately as she knew her own.

But...they've never actually met. Dare she take the risk of a lifetime?



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Excerpt:

 

The mangled scents of perfume and sex teased Baron Munro’s senses as he turned his head and looked for a clock on the bedside table. There wasn't one. Didn't matter, it was time to go. He'd indulged them both long enough. Glancing at the tangle of long blonde hair resting on the pillow near his head, he hoped the owner would continue slumbering. The last thing he needed was to explain why he wasn't going to spend the rest of the night, or any other, with her. He should have been long gone already, but he'd been exhausted even before the sex marathon. And that damned near drained him. Yet, he still felt unsatisfied.

In the last few months, no matter how much he indulged, he'd roll out of bed feeling as empty as he had before he climbed in it. Even with his brief hiatus from casual sex, this time was no different from any of the others. A break was not what he had needed. Whatever he was looking for wasn't here either. He passed his hand over his face in exhaustion.

Shifting, Baron eased his body off the bed and picked up his clothes where he'd thrown them on the chair earlier in the evening. Naked, his things clutched to his chest, he carefully opened the bedroom door. He closed it behind him and released the breath he'd been holding. After dressing in the hallway, he made his way fully attired to the front door. When he reached the lobby, he dumped the card with the woman's name and number in the trashcan near a pillar. They'd been out a couple of times now, but he’d never saved her number in his contact listings. He wouldn't be calling her again. She was a mistake, another in a long succession of them he was damned tired of making.

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BEYOND THE BREAKING POINT by Zena Wynn

BEYOND THE BREAKING POINT by Zena Wynn

Breaking point. Everyone has one. For Dr. Cassidy Brannon it was discovering her husband, Phillip, in a compromising position with his best friend Max’s almost fiancée, Amber, while vacationing with the other couple. Angry and heartbroken, she and Max indulge in a night of drunken, vindictive sex. The next day, Cassidy returns home with one goal in mind—divorce. ...

However, nothing goes as planned. Phillip, hell bent on fixing their marriage, won’t agree to a divorce. What was only meant to be one, never to be spoken of again, night with Max is evolving into something much more complicated. Then Cassidy discovers she’s pregnant. With both Max and Phillip adamantly claiming to be the father, how much more can Cassidy take before she’s pushed beyond the breaking point?

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Chapter One


A large hand, calloused from years of playing football and basketball, glided underneath the hem of the flimsy, baby-doll nightie she wore and worked its way to her breasts. "Wake up, beautiful. It’s baby making time." 

Groaning in protest, Cassidy Brannon rolled away from her husband’s touch, drew her leg up in her favorite sleeping position, and hugged her pillow closer to her. "Sleep. Vacation." 

Phillip, her husband of eight years, chuckled huskily. "I see I need to be a little more persuasive." 

He snuggled up so close behind her, she could feel the hard rod of his morning erection prodding the crease of her buttocks. Pushing her mass of unbound hair out of the way, he made a trail of nibbling kisses and love bites, beginning with the sensitive skin behind her ear, to her neck, and gradually worked his way down the length of her spine. As he maneuvered lower, he skimmed the palm of his hand up her thigh to the naked skin of her core. Probing fingers teased, touched, and tested her readiness to receive him. 

What Cassidy wanted most was more sleep. She cracked an eye open. The milky whiteness of extremely early morning or of a rain-clouded sky peaked around the edges of the large, wooden-blind covered window. Since today’s forecast called for clear sunny skies, Cassidy had to assume the sun hadn’t completely risen. 

"Roll over," he commanded, his voice low and aroused. 

Reluctantly, Cassidy did as instructed, knowing this morning’s opportunity to sleep in had just gone bye-bye. "Mmm, you’re really getting into this," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck as he kneed her legs open. Phillip lowered his heavier frame onto her lighter one, pinning her to the mattress. 

As she ran her hands up and down his muscular back, she mused that he still was just as big and muscular as he had been when he played collegiate football. Not surprising since he spent hours in the gym each week working on his physique. 

He gave her that smile she adored. "Darling, you know I’m always up," he nudged her sex with his penis, "for a challenge. The book said early morning was the best time for conception." 

He drew one nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply. Reaching between their bodies, he strummed her clit with his thumb. Cassidy moaned and arched into the knowledgeable hand stroking her body. Maybe morning sex wasn’t such a bad idea after all, she thought hazily as her body came alive. 

"You ready for me?" he asked, a hint of strain in his voice. 

Her "yes," came out on a sigh of anticipation. 

He withdrew his hand and guided his penis to her opening. Flexing his powerful hips, Phillip pushed steadily until he was deeply embedded. Then they began to move in a rhythm they’d perfected through years of practice. 

Phillip changed the angle of his thrust and hit a spot that caused her to jerk. "Ohh," she moaned. 

"Like that?" his deep voice rumbled. 

"Yes." It came out breathy. 

He did it again, and again. Cassidy canted her hips to take him deeper, and allowed her nails to dig into her husband’s damp, muscular back. There was nothing like a man who took good care of himself, she mused. She loved running her hands over his muscles. 

"That’s right, baby. Tighten that pussy around my cock. Make it good for me," he commanded. "Dig those nails into my back. Show me you like what I’m doing to you." 

Cassidy moaned, knowing she was getting close. She could feel it in the clenching of her abdomen muscles. "Feels…so…good," she panted. 

His dark-brown eyes stared into hers from inches away. "I love your pussy. It’s so hot, sweet and wet." He thrust faster, harder. "Come for me, baby. Let go. Let go now." 

Cassidy dug her heels into the mattress, stiffened, and on a strangled groan, let the orgasm take her. 

"That’s right, baby. Shit, you feel so good. Hold on. Hold on to me tight. I’m getting ready to let go." 

She wrapped her arms around him and held on to his slick body as he pounded into her. The mattress groaned its protest at the abuse and Cassidy had a moment’s concern, wondering if their condo mates could hear and know what they were doing. Then Phillip went rigid. His hips gave a few spasmodic jerks before he slumped on her, a complete dead weight. 

Cassidy gave him a few seconds to recover then poked him in the side. "Can’t breathe," she gasped. 

He hefted his upper body up a few inches and shifted his weight to the side before dropping again. Cassidy lay with her husband curled around her, his head on the pillow beside her. He breathed heavily in her ear, his muscled thigh still sandwiched between hers and his now flaccid, damp cock pressed against her body. 

She idly stroked his hair, loving the way his sweat-slicked, low cut felt against her hand. "They’ll be looking for us soon." 

He cupped her breast and toyed with the nipple. "We’re on vacation," he reminded her. "That means no schedules. Besides, you’re supposed to lie still and give my soldiers a chance to reach their target." 

She laughed. "Like your soldiers need any help." 

Philip propped up on an elbow. "You never know. You’ve been off the pill for six months. I thought we’d have seen some results by now." 

She cupped his strong, handsome face, allowing her thumb to play with his goatee. "Six months isn’t that long, considering. I wasn’t all that regular before I went on the pill and it took a few months for me to start ovulating after coming off. So in reality, we’ve only been trying about three months. The rest was really great practice," she told him, waggling her eyebrows. 

His lips smiled but the eyes remained serious. "I just really want a family with you." He shifted his hand from her breast and laid it on her stomach. "I want to see my child, children growing here. We’ve waited long enough." 

"You will," she assured him. "And thirty isn’t that old to be starting a family. Women can safely have children into their forties. We have time." 

"Just to be on the safe side…" Philip slid his hand from her belly to her mound and stroked her clit. "I’d better send in the reserves." 

"Go troops," she cheered as he dragged her down into another round of lovemaking. 

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WARNING SHOT by Tim Smith

WARNING SHOT by Tim Smith

Nick Seven Series #3

A former spy and his lover get dragged into a conspiracy involving a political assassination.

Nick Seven and Felicia Hagens left the CIA for the laidback ease of the Florida Keys, leaving behind a life of intrigue. When Nick’s former mentor becomes part of a conspiracy with international repercussions, Nick breaks his self-imposed exile to stop him.

The case throws Nick and Felicia into a juggernaut of espionage, government cover-ups and political assassinations. Will they succeed in stopping the plan in time? Can their relationship survive another unwanted adventure?

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~Excerpt~

  “You just made the trip worthwhile.” He slipped his hand inside his black leather jacket and felt the butt of his Walther PPK out of habit, reassuring himself that it was still there. “How’s Verna?”

“Not bad. I won’t tell her you asked, though. You know how she feels about you.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to spark an argument,” Nick dryly replied. “I still don’t know what I did to make her dislike me so much.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t take much to incur a person’s wrath. You know that. She’s tired of all the moving around. Bombay two years ago, Morocco, then Germany, now stateside. She wants to settle down.”

“Where?”

“She keeps talking about Florida.”

“You gonna get out to keep her happy?”

Gadge looked at him. “With the world going to hell the way it is? You know better. She signed on for the full ride and knew it. Ten, twelve more good years, then maybe I’ll think about it.”

“A company man to the bone,” Nick stated. “Bet when you cut yourself you bleed red, white and blue.” He smiled wistfully. “Actually that isn’t a bad idea. I’ve been thinking about Florida myself.”

“I heard through the grapevine that you’d been talking about getting out.” Gadge hesitated. “Nicholas, I adored that wife of yours and I know you took her death hard, but you kept your graveside promise to avenge her murder. Is that why you want to get out?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. This isn’t the kind of chatter I wanted to indulge in. I’ve been trying to move on. “It opened my eyes and made me rethink my priorities. Let’s focus on the job.”

Gadge chuckled. “Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. Another piece of the puzzle falls into place.”

Gadge quickly shifted his eyes to the brownstone as a man emerged and casually descended the front steps. He nudged Nick with his elbow. “There’s our pigeon.”

“How do you want to work this?”

“You take him on foot. I’ll cruise ahead and box him in.”

Nick quickly eased his tall lean frame out of the car, transferred his gun to his coat pocket, then zipped up his jacket. He shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the street, taking a position a half-block behind the other man. The subject was in his thirties with brown hair in a shag cut, medium build and decked out in a plaid wool jacket. He kept his hands in his pockets as he strode at a fairly rapid clip down the street.

The man stopped at the next block as Gadge cruised past him. He gave the car a fleeting glance, then crossed the street. Nick maintained his distance while wondering where the man was going. The suspect slowed his pace as he saw the brake lights on Gadge’s car light up when he pulled to the curb. Nick slowed as well, thinking that something was about to go horribly wrong.

The man abruptly turned and pointed a Glock nine millimeter pistol at Nick. Nick stared back with a blank look while slowly withdrawing his gun from his pocket, trying not to spook him. The man glanced in the other direction at Gadge Harmon quickly approaching, then refocused his attention on Nick. He squeezed the trigger twice.

Before Nick could aim his gun he felt the sting of a bullet hitting him in his left arm. He returned fire without perfect aim, missing his target. Nick feinted to his left as the man fired once more. The shot found its way into Nick’s left side.

He crumbled onto the sidewalk, trying to break his fall with his other hand. Nick lay on the cold concrete and lapsed into semi-consciousness, his head swimming with pain. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps running toward him but couldn’t open his eyes. After a moment the feet ran in the same direction the first man had taken.

Nick pushed himself to his feet and breathed deeply. The pain seared in his side and arm. He looked down the block and saw Gadge Harmon chasing the shooter. Nick followed as quickly as he could on wobbly legs with his gun drawn.

Gadge entered an alley on his left with Nick following by a good twenty paces. When he got to the entrance Nick saw the man they were pursuing standing atop a garbage can at the rear of the alley, attempting to scale a fence.

Gadge fired a warning shot over the man’s head. “Halt!”

The man looked around, saw Gadge approaching and raised his hands. He climbed down from the can, tossed his weapon on the ground then stood with his hands in the air. Gadge stopped when he was within three feet, took careful aim and fired two shots in rapid succession. The bullets imbedded themselves in the man’s chest. He cried out, tumbled backwards against the garbage cans and let out a final rush of breath.

What the hell was he thinking? “Gadge!” Nick called out.

Gadge turned in surprise and looked at Nick leaning against the corner of the building, cradling his left arm and rapidly sucking in air. Gadge glanced at the dead man then back at Nick. His eyes were filled with confusion and his mouth was agape.

“I—uh—I…thought he killed you, Nicholas,” he quietly intoned.

Nick slumped against the building and slowly wagged his head. “Aw, Gadge,” he lamented. “No.”

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SILLY GIRL by Michel Prince

SILLY GIRL by Michel Prince

Are professional sports just children’s games played by oversized kids?

 With an all-consuming focus Matthias Jessup has sacrificed his body in pursuit of greatness. But while he’s enjoyed the spoils of being an elite athlete, the physical punishment can only be held at bay for so long. He knows his time is running out and he will have to face his future soon.

Sylvia Kinder is obsessed with Matthias' public image. But now that her fantasy has walked into her life, could it possibly lead to a happy ending? She worries if there's any place for her in his world, much less his heart.

 Drawn to each other on a chance meeting, Matthias must look off the court and discover the real world, while Sylvia will have to find the strength of self to not become lost in a world she doesn’t understand. But those who aren’t ready for a life after the game surround Matthias and are willing to do anything to keep him on the court.

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~Excerpt~

Sitting straight up Sylvia looked down the hall to Matthias’ open bedroom door. The motto of loved and lost was dancing around her mind. So what if she became a one-night-stand to Matthias Jessup? It wasn’t like she had a chance to be more. This was her one shot at feeling his body against hers for real. His smooth skin and tight body against hers, surely for him this was happening because of a lack of options, but for Sylvia it would be a dream come true. The memories alone made it worth the hard glare of the morning’s sun.

Mustering up the courage to walk the twenty or so feet to his door, Sylvia stood up, fluffed her hair, and walked straight to the kitchen. Leaning her elbows on the countertop Sylvia buried her head in her hands and fought the angel and devil on her shoulders. As long as Matthias didn’t come out and hear her pro-con list she whispered to herself, she’d be fine.

If you learn how he is in bed all your dreams will be dust—con.

He could be better than your dreams—major pro.

You don’t need sex—lie.

He’ll see your scars—con.

He can make it so you don’t have to spend the next week masturbating more than a teenage boy to get him out of your system—pro…with a little con.

Right now he likes you—pro.

He likes you because he respects you—pro

He could be lying to get you to screw him and really thinks you’re a loser—con

You’ll never respect yourself if you become a one-night-stand to him—con.

You only have one chance to be with him and this is it, it’ll never come again—

Hmm.

Oh Jesus, she thought as her back fell against the wall.

“Come on, Sylvia, ten more feet, and Matthias will be spreading your thighs.” Okay, now Sylvia had truly lost it. She was in the really bad rhyming phase of her delusion. She turned back to the living room when she heard a grunt from his bedroom that stimulated every hormone known to man. That grunt was exertion, that grunt was a man working, that grunt…needed a groan with a purpose.

The hormones raced and Sylvia practically sprinted into Matthias’ bedroom, but didn’t see him. It took a minute for her to find him in the air above his bathroom door. He had a pull-up bar mounted in the doorframe and he was doing dips to strengthen his triceps. Sylvia used the doorjamb to hold herself up as she almost fainted at the sight of his tensed muscles. His shirt was off and there was a light misting of sweat covering his chocolate colored skin.

Matthias had been so focused he hadn’t seen his observer at first, but when he did he dropped to the ground and stood facing Sylvia. The cut of his abdominal muscles had an eight, not six pack, with the beautiful V right at his hips. He was in workout shorts that hung off his ass with such perfection Sylvia began to regret the thought of ripping them from his body. Best of all, the tattoo with Sharee’s name had been removed.

As she let out the air in her lungs her bottom lip trembled and Matthias took a step toward her.

“Did you need another blanket?” he asked as Sylvia forgot how to speak.

Stumbling through her mind she felt like Ralphie asking Santa for a Red-Rider B.B. Gun.

“No…um…I was thinking,” Sylvia began as she tried to control herself enough to not ask if he had a set of handcuffs around. “That…are you the damn model for Batman’s suit?”

“Huh?”

Sylvia composed herself by closing her eyes, but even then she couldn’t help thinking of Matthias’ tight chest and what she could do with a can of whip cream.

“I will probably never see you again after tonight,” Sylvia said as quickly as she could. Strangely, her voice hit about five octaves higher than she was hoping for.

Sylvia looked at Matthias’ face and prayed he would show some glimmer of, oh no, I’m going to bring a priest over in the morning to marry us immediately! Okay, that fantasy wasn’t going to happen, she thought.

Matthias stood steadfast and a little bit confused.

“Okay, so what does it matter if you think I’m a trick, because whether we sleep together or not we’ll never be together after tonight so I might as well…go for it. So to speak.”

Sylvia swallowed hard and nibbled on her lips hoping he didn’t bust out laughing. To her surprise, he looked at her and started to speak, but then stopped. He seemed to be trying to work out something in his mind.

In one giant step he cradled her head in his hand and kissed her in a way that shook her to the core. The passion behind his lips sent her into a frenzy. She wrapped her arms around his neck for support as she tasted the sweetness still on his tongue as it gently stroked hers.

With his other hand he lovingly glided down her back, and when he squeezed her ass she fell against his firm body. She could feel the wet heat building in her core and the groan she wanted to hear from him came out of her instead. He finally released and she held tight to his flexed biceps as she slowly opened her eyes.

“You let me kiss you,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Matthias released her quivering body causing her to brace herself against the wall to stop from falling over.

“That’s all I wanted.”

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THE BALLERINA AND THE FIGHTER by Ursula Sinclair

THE BALLERINA AND THE FIGHTER by Ursula Sinclair

I travel through life dancing.

All I ever wanted to do was dance, as did my best friend. We'd made so many plans together, but one night an explosion changed it all. Only one of us survived, and I promised myself I'd succeed for us both. And I did, until an accident almost ruined my career, but Maze came back into my life when I needed him most. He pulled me out of the depths of my despair. But could I save him now?

I travel through life fighting.

It had always been Ivy; from the first moment I saw her leaping through the air like she had wings to lift her from the ground. But she was my dream, something I wanted more than anything else in my life. I promised myself I would stay away from her. Violence followed me everywhere and I tried to keep her far away from it. She was my point of illumination in the dark tumultuous world I lived in. But I could not stay away from her. Not when I knew she needed me. As much as I needed her. But could she accept me as I am?

New Adult Contemporary Romance. Due to the mature subject matter recommended for 18+

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Excerpt:

 

The first time I saw her it was evening, that time of day when the setting sun hit the ocean and turned it a burnt orange. Most of the vacationers had deserted the beach for the restaurants, swarming the main drag or the barbecues in their rented back yards. There were only a few folks here or there walking or hanging around the water’s edge, but it was a great time for my run. Even though I was on down time I never stopped training. I listened to an Eminem track on my iPhone, perfect for my pacing.

 The breeze from inland drew the heat from the sand beneath my bare feet and the salt spray from the ocean cooled my body as I ran through the waves lapping at my ankles. My stride went from a jog to a walk until I stopped altogether, and pulled my ear buds outta my ears. She was doing these beautiful leaps into the air, but the one that stopped me in my tracks was the firebird. At the time I didn’t know what any of them were called, only that the beauty of the evening paled in comparison to the female that stole my attention, as she propelled her body through the air. Like gravity had no hold on her. As a mixed martial artist, I understood the way gravity could be manipulated but this girl took it to another level. I’d been studying martial arts all my life and had never really seen anything like it. But from some part of me the word ballet whispered across my consciousness.

 She landed perfectly on the sand on her toes, while the other leg was stretched in a straight line, aiming for the sky. Her upper torso leaned slightly forward, one hand reached toward the sand and the wind whipped her long hair about hiding her face from me. The ballerina, that’s what I decided she had to be, lowered the airborne leg, and as soon as both feet were on the ground she ran toward a white girl who held a camera. Then it dawned on me, they were taking pictures. They were both around the same age, anywhere from sixteen to nineteen. They were huddled over the camera screen. I was kinda curious to take a look at those pictures myself and see the face of the girl who could fly so effortlessly through the air.

 I didn’t even realize I was headed in their direction until the girl with the camera glanced up and gave me an eye fuck, before nudging her friend who raised her head and our gazes locked. I stumbled. I never stumble. But even from twenty some feet away this chick had some kinda hold on me.

“Nice moves,” I said, as I approached them. I stifled a groan. Could I be any more lame? Still both girls smiled at me. Damn ballerina had the cutest set of dimples. I wanted to dip my tongue into them.
Brown eyes with a hint of green in the center stared unblinking back at me. A face some might call oval, I called perfect, was the canvas for a button nose and sexy ass lips that screamed for my mouth on hers. Fuck this girl was hot. Her body had a natural tan and the time in the sun had added a hint of gold to her dark honey complexion. She had on those kind of low cut short denim shorts that could pass for panties and a cropped red top that showed off a flat stomach. She wasn’t as curvy as most of the girls I normally go for, her breast would barely fill my hand, but hers was a finely toned slightly muscled body. That of a dancer. And her legs. I shit you not, her legs would wrap nicely around my waist, or another image flashed across my mind that had the blood rushing to my dick. I knew she’d be flexible enough to wrap those legs over my shoulders as I pushed all the way deep into her.

 I don’t know how long we stood there checking each other out. Now I knew what that shit means, ‘when time stands still’. What the fuck? But there it was. She blinked and glanced over at her friend. I’m glad she broke eye contact because it freed me from whatever the fuck was happening to me. I shook my head to clear out any damn cobwebs trying to take root and opened my mouth.

“Can I see?” I kept my hands at my sides, not trying to come off too pushy by reaching toward the camera.

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CHANGING ROOM by Veronica Tower

CHANGING ROOM by Veronica Tower

Playtime Series Book 3

On their tenth wedding anniversary, Edie and Jack vowed to reinvigorate their sex life and save their marriage through randomly selected fantasies. They’ve each had a turn but now the games are escalating, and Edie and Jack are growing bolder.

 Edie’s always wanted Jack to pay a little more personal attention to her. Acting as her personal shopper—picking out clothes to mold her curves, skimming his hands along her skin to check fit—should provide ample opportunity for him to pay attention to every tiny detail. Best of all, they don’t even have to leave the house, or her closet, for the fantasy. But Jack won’t settle for anything less than authentic. Edie better brace herself for Jack’s very personal, and very public, attention.

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Excerpt:

 

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: CHANGING ROOM
Copyright © VERONICA TOWER, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Why don’t we give it a look?” Jack suggested. “If it’s really crowded, we’ll call it off. But I phoned in sick and we got here at,” he paused to check the clock on his phone, “ten in the morning because we want to make the backdrop of these fantasies as real as possible.” He coaxed her with a teasing grin. “You set the precedent with your streetwalker role and you’re always telling me I should listen to you more.”

Edie grimaced, not picking up on his humor at all. She was a beautiful, thirty year old African-American woman with long black hair and a damn good figure. He could still see in her the high school cheerleader he’d fallen in love with in Algebra class, but she’d matured into someone even more attractive. That soft, fresh bloom of youth had evolved into a natural, sensuous maturity. He could see it in her cheekbones, the line of her jaw and the light that brightened her eyes when she found something funny. He’d lost sight of that beauty too often over the past few years and he was really enjoying discovering it again.

“I don’t know, Jack,” Edie told him. “We almost got arrested the first time, and you could have lost your job if we’d gotten caught during our second fantasy.”

True, but since they’d gotten away with it both times, he didn’t find the argument convincing. He and Edie had been having a tough time these last few years and their physical relationship had gone from bad to non-existent. Then their marriage counselor, Dr. Phelps, had come up with this unique way to get them sleeping with each other again. She’d suggested that each of them write down three sexual fantasies on slips of paper and then draw one per week and act them out together. Jack had been highly skeptical, but willing to try anything if it let him start fucking his wife again. To his surprise the results of their first two experiments had been mind blowing and he really wanted to try it again.
“The worse that can happen here is that we get thrown out of the store,” Jack assured her. “And we chose a place that you don’t shop in anyway.”

A young mother pushed an infant in a stroller past them and Jack opened the heavy glass door for her. She thanked him as she maneuvered past.

Jack wanted to continue his conversation with Edie, but like most big stores, Grayson’s had a second set of glass doors to navigate right after the first. He slipped inside and held that one as well so the woman could push her stroller into the store.

Edie joined him in the little vestibule between the two sets of doors. “What if you’re wrong? What if they catch us and they do call the cops?”

Jack had to admit to himself that a 911 call was a potential problem. He didn’t think it was likely to happen, but it worried him just the same. If he admitted it to Edie, however, the whole game would be over before it began. “And why would they do that? Do you think they want this kind of publicity?”

“But what if they do?” Edie asked. Until this moment, Jack hadn’t realized just how nervous she was. He should have seen it right away. Chewing on her lip was a dead giveaway and she’d been chowing down on the scrumptious piece of flesh all morning.

He took her hands in his and caressed the backs of her fingers with his thumbs. “Hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can head back home and play dress up in the living room. Or rethink the whole fantasy and come up with a better way to make it happen. I’m doing this today for you. If you’re not comfortable with my idea, then I’m not doing it right.”

Edie’s whole demeanor changed. The tension eased out of her shoulders and she appeared to breathe more easily.

Jack acted fast to preempt his wife from accepting his spontaneous offer. “Of course, it won’t be as much fun if we do it at home. Do you remember how shocked we were when that real streetwalker propositioned us?”

Edie chuckled. “The look on your face when she tried to join our party was priceless—not that I think that’s an argument for playing out game outside the house.”

Jack decided to ignore the second half of our statement. “The look on my face? What about yours? I thought you thought I might actually accept her offer.”

Edie’s chuckle grew into an actual laugh. “If you had they would have needed the police to pull me off of you.”

Jack laughed with her. “It still made the whole thing hot though. I mean, talk about your realism. You don’t get that at home.”

“No you don’t, but you also don’t get college kids almost catching us,” Edie told him. The mischievous smile on her face reassured Jack.

Before he could answer, she gave in and pulled open the inner door. “Oh hell, we’ll try it, but I think you should know I’m onto you. You’re getting off on the risk as much as you’re getting off on me.”

“Me?” Jack asked as he hurried to follow after her. “I seem to recall you enjoying some pretty climactic orgasms at my little makeshift spa. My shoulder still has a bruise on it where you bit me.”

“Shush!” Edie snapped with a quick look back at him. “If anyone overhears you, we won’t be able to do our thing.”

She picked up her pace, fingers tightening on her purse and began to search the aisles for the women’s clothing section.

Jack knew how to read the telltale signs. Edie was as excited by the risk of discovery as he was.

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PLEASE STOP FILMING by Veronica Tower

PLEASE STOP FILMING by Veronica Tower

April has a problem. Her boyfriend, Mark, has developed a new hobby – setting up a video camera to record them in the bedroom – and he’s not taking no for an answer. The more that April resists and complains, the more certain Mark becomes that she is the one with the problem – that she is the one refusing to be supportive.

Desperate for a return to some normalcy in their relationship, April agrees to make a single movie, never dreaming that Mark would take this as permission to invite a stranger into their home to operate the camera. Will there be no end to Mark’s madness? Will anything induce him to Please Stop Filming?

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~Excerpt~

They had another fight about Mark’s camera at the breakfast table the next morning.

“You know the problem wasn’t only because we moved further down the couch,” Mark said.

“What?”

“Even before we moved,” Mark explained, “the camera was missing a lot of our action.”

April sighed and suppressed the desire to say something crude and emasculating.

Mark didn’t seem to notice her restraint. “You were doing some incredible things to my cock and the camera missed a lot of it. The same things happened when I mounted you from behind. You are beautiful and I know that scene was hot, but that doesn’t shine through the way I think it should have. I’m going to have to give this some thought.”

“Perhaps,” April chose her words very carefully. “You should think about giving up the camera or at least putting it away for a while.”

“What?” Mark asked. It was painfully obvious that this idea had never occurred to him.

“Look what’s happening to us, Mark. Two weeks without sex and then that debacle in bed last night.”

Mark spoke past a mouthful of Cheerios. “Those two weeks were your fault. I was trying to fuck you the entire time.”

April felt her temperature rising but she managed to keep control of herself. “I was eager to have sex too—just not in front of your camera. You weren’t willing to compromise on that.”

“And neither were you,” Mark reminded her.

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MASSEUR by Veronica Tower

MASSEUR by Veronica Tower

Playtime Series Book 2

On their 10th wedding anniversary, Edie and Jack vowed to reinvigorate their sex life and save their marriage through randomly selected fantasies. First up was Jack's fantasy starring Edie as a common streetwalker.

Now it's Edie's turn to call the shots, and she wants a little TLC.

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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: MASSEUR
Copyright © VERONICA TOWER , 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One

Edie reached up to retrieve the breakfast bowl with the little folded pieces of paper inside it, an unusual twinge of hope sparking deep inside her body. The last time she and Jack had played this game, things had gotten really crazy, but it had still ended well. Who’d have thought that at the age of thirty she and her husband could still fool around in their car like a couple of horny teenagers? And who’d have thought that Jack would make the time to lie around cuddling with her afterward and talking about old times?

There was a smile on her face and a spring in her step as Edie turned around to place the bowl on the kitchen table.

Jack immediately reached for one of the folded up pieces, snatching up one of the slips of paper.
Edie’s good mood evaporated. “Hey!” she snapped at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find out what we’re going to do for playtime this weekend,” Jack responded. His fingers never stopped opening the little piece of paper. He was a six-foot-two former high school quarterback with skin as white as Edie’s was dark. Unfortunately, while the high school glory years were twelve years in the past, he still liked to act as if he could run their household the same way he used to direct his team in the huddle.

Edie wasn’t putting up with that. “Well who says you get to be the one to choose the fantasy?”

Jack’s fingers stumbled as he looked up at her. “You picked last time. I thought this would be my turn. Doesn’t that seem fair to you?”

That did seem fair, but Edie still wasn’t happy with how Jack had taken control again. Dr. Phelps said these little fantasy games that they called playtime were supposed to bring them closer together. Edie didn’t feel close to Jack when he ran roughshod over her wishes. And she really didn’t trust him to play fair in this game. “Who’s to say you didn’t check out all of these pieces of paper over the course of the week and mark one so you could snatch it up like this and make us play another one of your fantasies?” she asked.

Jack frowned. He continued to hold the folded paper in his hands, but stopped opening it. “Who’s to say you didn’t do that?” he shot back at her.

It was just like him to try and turn the question back around on her. “I didn’t!” Edie told him.

“Neither did I!” Jack assured her.

“But how do I know?” Edie asked. “Last week when I picked, you mixed up the pieces of paper in the bowl and made me close my eyes. I think we should follow the same rules now.”

“All right, all right,” Jack grumbled as he tossed the paper back in the bowl.

Edie picked it up and refolded it. “Now close your eyes,” she told him.

Jack did as he was told and she relished the tiny victory. Then she mixed the five little folded slips of paper around with her fingers and told him he could pick one out.

Jack’s hand fumbled slightly for the edge of the bowl and then pulled out a slip of paper without any hesitation at all. “Can I open my eyes now?”

Edie didn’t like the sour expression on his face. “You know it’s unattractive when our kids pout, but it’s downright ugly when you do it!”

Jack laughed and started opening the new piece of paper. They’d started this game a week ago at the insistence of their marriage counselor. Edie had mixed feelings about the first game. On the one hand, it had succeeded in getting them to have sex for the first time in years, but the whole concept—Jack picking her up and paying her for sex like she was a streetwalker—still bothered Edie on some level. It had been hot and exciting—but there was no denying that their bumping and grinding had been sex and not lovemaking.

Still, Dr. Phelps seemed pleased with their experience. “It’s a start,” the woman had told them, “and you aren’t going to make any progress on your problems if you can’t make a start.”

Jack finished unfolding the piece of paper. “It’s one of yours,” he told her.

Edie leaned forward eagerly, wondering which one it was.

“Oh, Lord,” Jack said, grinning. “I thought you said you wanted romance.”

“I do want a little romance,” Edie insisted. “Which one is it?” She reached for the scrap of paper but he moved it away from her hand.

“Honestly, Edie,” he said. “This is one I could have come up with. After all your complaints about my streetwalker fantasy, you want exactly the same thing I did.”

“What are you talking about?” Edie snapped. This time she succeeded in snagging the slip of paper away from him. She turned it over so she could read her own handwriting.

I want to be teased and pampered by a professional masseur at a spa.

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MY EVERYTHING by Denise Skelton

MY EVERYTHING by Denise Skelton

At the age of twenty, Benjamin Harrison's father dies, leaving him to provide for his mother and sister. Years later, his sister is in need of a bone marrow transplant, and Ben seeks the help of Meyers Investigations to find an unknown sibling to save her. His immediate attraction to the sexy female P.I. sets things in motion, and their relationship blossoms.

Adventurous private investigator Deanna Meyers senses her attraction toward Ben, but she is reluctant to date him after seeing what her best friends go through with their own interracial relationships.

Ben's ex-girlfriend Janet and Dee's cousin Terry have one thing in common. They both want Dee out of the picture. But only one will go to any lengths to make that happen. Even kill.

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Excerpt:

Dee parked in front of the Quick Mart Dry Cleaning. She dropped off her laundry and then walked across the street to get coffee. A shiny black limo stopped in front of the door; she slowed her pace and watched as a handsome Caucasian male wearing a tailored black suit and black turtleneck stepped out. A beautiful, slim blonde accompanied him.

He walked gracefully to the door, reaching it before Dee, and held it open for her and his companion.

Dee walked to the counter and placed her order. "Hi, Grace. May I have a Swiss chocolate and a Cinnamon Viennese?"

"Cream only?" the woman asked.

Dee nodded. She heard the man from the limo speak; his voice was powerful, but smooth and soothing. She looked back, noticing how his suit wrapped around his broad shoulders and impressive biceps. She smiled, glancing at the blonde. Her face was oval, with a delicate nose and thin lips, and her makeup was perfect. Dee turned away.

"Come on, Janet," Dee heard him say. "I don’t have time for this. I told you I have an appointment."

"Why are you rushing me?" Janet said, her voice shrill. "I don’t like being rushed." She stepped up to the counter.

The young lady behind the counter smiled. "Good morning, ma’am. How may I help you?"

"I’ll have the Swiss chocolate," Janet said impatiently.

"I’m sorry, we just sold the last cup."

Janet looked shocked; she lifted her hazel eyes to meet the cashier’s. "Well, we’ll just have to wait until you make some more, now won’t we?"

"I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any more to make," the cashier informed her.

"What does that mean? It’s still morning and you’ve run out of coffee?"

"We have chocolate hazelnut or chocolate mint. They’re both very good. I can…"

"What sort of business are you running here?" Janet asked indignantly.

"Just get something else," he said, groaning with annoyance.

"No, I want Swiss chocolate."

He shook his head, stepping around her and up to the counter. "Could you just give us three chocolate hazelnuts, please?"

"I want to see your manager," Janet said, pointing a thin finger at the girl.

"Ma’am, I’m sorry," the young woman said in a small voice, glancing nervously at Janet.

"I’m the manager," a second woman behind the counter said, standing tall before stepping forward. "Miss, I’m sorry for the

inconvenience, but sometimes this happens. We can give you something else on the house."

The man in the suit looked at the manager, his eyes communicating his empathy, and he sighed heavily. He pulled out his billfold and put a twenty on the counter, smiling apologetically. "Keep the change."

Dee had watched the entire exchange while adding sugar to her coffees. The man walked over and reached around Dee to get napkins.

"Maybe your girlfriend needs to switch to decaf," Dee said.

He laughed. As he glanced at the African American woman standing next to him, and into the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen, his pulse quickened. "If you would be kind enough to stab me to death with that stirrer and put me out of my misery," he gestured toward the slim straw in her hand, "I’d be so grateful."

Dee looked up into his green eyes, framed by dark, thick lashes. "I make it a habit never to kill gorgeous men." She smiled, flashing her deep dimples. Then she took the cups from the counter, turned, and walked briskly out the door.

He followed her to the door, watching her walk across the street and into the dry cleaners.

"And just what the hell was that all about?" Hearing his companion’s voice, he grimaced; he looked over his shoulder, his eyes met hers. He walked to the counter and picked up two of the cups, and then he nodded to the coffee-shop employees.

"Ladies, have a good day." Then, turning to the Janet, he said, "Janet, I’m leaving in five minutes."

Returning to the limo, he handed one cup to the driver. "Here you go, Mike."

"Thank you, sir."

He looked across the street at the dry cleaners, trying to get another look at the woman with the beautiful eyes. Then he looked back at the coffee bar.

"If she’s not here in five minutes," he instructed the driver, "we’re leaving without her."


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UNTIL NOW... by Denise Skelton

UNTIL NOW... by Denise Skelton

Terry Meyers' life seems to be falling apart. Her husband left her and their 2 sons for a woman 10 years her junior, she has a mortgage that she can't afford, a car that stays broken more than it works and a son who's going through puberty and seems set to drive her crazy in the process. Add to that the desire to go into business with her cousin, who is adamant that that will never happen and Terry believes her life could not get much worse.

But as things seem to go from bad, to worse, Terry decides it's time to take stock in her life. First on the list, handle her deadbeat future ex-husband. Second, find a new career. Third, swear off men, what's the point, she always chooses the wrong one, always ends up being used or hurt. Until Now...

Wade Nelson has moved back to Chicago to work as the new English teacher at Jefferson high. His strained relationship with his father has kept him away for many years. What his family doesn't know is that Wade has another agenda for being back in Chicago.

When Wade meets feisty Terry Meyers, the last thing he's thinking about is being in a relationship with anyone, let alone a woman who has two children, but Terry has a way of finding herself in rather strange situations and he just happened to be the one there to bail her out. With a past that he has never put to rest, Wade, by no means, considered the idea of settling down. Until Now...

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Excerpt:

Terry glanced to her left. She definitely didn’t remember extending an invitation to share her bed. "You can’t come creeping in here in the middle of the night."

Keith leaned across the small space towards her. "But-"

"Woo hoo, that morning breath," Terry howled, covered her nose, and pushed him back.

He grinned at her. "I didn’t even brush my teeth yet."

"No smooches until you brush those stank teeth," Terry said fanning a hand in front of her face.

"Okay Mommy," six-year-old Keith Wilkerson said before sliding from the bed and racing from the room.

Glancing at the clock, Terry saw that it was 6:40 am. Grimacing, she pushed back the covers, crawled from the bed and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower before leaving for work. Damn she thought, she should have skipped that last margarita. When she entered the bathroom she switched on the light, the almost blinding glare illuminating from the light bulb made her wince, and she quickly switched it off. Groaning again, the thought came to her that, if she was lucky, she’d slip, fall, and drown in the shower, thus relieving her hangover.

Twenty-five minutes later, Terry walked from her bedroom dressed in a crisp white blouse, pleated gray slacks and black loafers. She wore her dark brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and her chestnut complexion was void of any makeup. She banged on her eldest son, DJ’s bedroom door.

"Breakfast in five minutes," Terry called as she walked past, and then paused. Grinning she took three steps backwards and quickly opened the door. "Didn’t you hear me?"

At fourteen, DJ was already just over five and a half feet tall, five inches taller than his mother, and close to a hundred and fifty pounds. He jumped, hearing the door open, and quickly pulled his pants up, tumbling and almost falling to the floor. "Mom!"

Terry laughed and snorted at the same time. "Boy, you ain’t got nothing there that I haven’t seen. I said breakfast would be ready in five minutes."

Closing the door, she grinned and headed down to the kitchen with a little more bounce in her step. When she entered the kitchen, Keith was already there, sitting at the counter watching Arthur. Terry picked up the television remote, turning the channel to the morning news.

"Mommy, I was watching that."

"Yesterday was your day, tomorrow is DJ’s, and today is mine. You know the rules. We all take turns watching what we want in the morning."

Terry took three bowls from the cabinet, filled them with Cheerios, and plucked up a banana.

"But, it’s so boring," Keith whined.

"Boy, you’re not old enough to be bored."

"Please, Mommy!" Keith whined again.

"Nope."

Pealing the banana, she cut it into very thin slices, putting five slices over each of the bowls of cereal. She poured milk into each, and was setting the bowls on the counter when DJ entered the kitchen.

"Mom, can we have sausage and eggs this morning?" DJ asked sliding into the stool next to his younger brother.

"You know we can only have sausage and eggs on Sundays. Right now, it’s not in the budget."

"We didn’t have sausage and eggs this past Sunday."

"Well then, we’ll just have extra sausage next time." I hope.

"Mommy, these are nasty. I hate Cheerios, " Keith mumbled.

"So do I," Terry said, sniffing the spoonful of cereal she was about to put in her mouth, and then scrunched up her nose. "But, it can’t be helped; this is what’s in the budget."

Actually, it was a generic brand, and they tasted so bad that Terry was surprised that the grocery store didn’t offer customers a dollar a bag just to take them off their hands. She had to agree with Keith; they were nasty, but it was better than nothing.

Keith looked at the bowl Terry had placed in front of him with disdain. "You can tell Daddy, tell him we don’t like Cheerios."

"No, she can’t," DJ glared at his brother.

"DJ," Terry warned.

Sure, she could tell their father that his sons were tired of eating repulsive generic cereal every morning and hotdogs three nights a week. But, he already knew that they were in financial trouble. He knew their situation; he just didn’t seem to care. But she didn’t want to tell Keith that. At first, when his father left, Terry had told Keith that his daddy had gone on a business trip; and she’d stuck to that story for two weeks. Eventually she had to tell him the truth. He had been devastated; he didn’t understand why his daddy wanted to live with a stranger and not them. Terry could tell him that his father didn’t give a damn about living with his children, and that he could care less if they ate at all, but why make Keith suffer more then he already was?

"Well you can’t," DJ said to his mother, and then, dropping his eyes, he stabbed his spoon in his bowl. "He doesn’t care about us eating Cheerios every day; he doesn’t care if we eat at all."

"He does too!" Keith immediately said, defending his father.

"DJ," Terry warned again.

"Tell him, Mommy!" Keith said, looking at his mother for confirmation.

"I bet Shareese doesn’t have to eat Cheerios every day," DJ complained.

"Okay, that’s enough," Terry said, rose, and gathered the bowls from the counter. Crossing the kitchen, she ran the cereal down the drain, clicked on the garbage disposal, and rinsed the bowls. "Go get your things together. We’ll stop by McDonald’s and grab you guys a sausage biscuit."

"Yippee!" Keith yelled as he jumped from the counter and rushed from the kitchen.

DJ followed at a much slower pace. "Sorry, Mom."

Terry sighed, stroking his cheek as he passed her. "Don’t worry about it, buddy."

Twenty-two months ago, their lives had changed. They went instantly from a happy family of four to a confused and struggling family of three. Twenty-two months since her ex-husband had come home from work and told her that he wasn’t in love with her anymore. That he had met someone else, and she was going to have his baby. Five years before that day, Terry would have chased him from their home with a baseball bat, and she would have made both of them rue the day they had crossed her. But, she’d changed, she’d grown, she’d evolved…for the most part.

Now it was just her and her boys. She had a mortgage for a house that she couldn’t afford, a car that stayed broken almost as

much as it worked, and a teenage son who had shot up five inches in six months. David had promised to pay half of the mortgage, but hadn’t paid his share in almost a year. He hadn’t paid her the agreed amount of child support in the last few months. Things had been hard, and it didn’t look like it would be getting any easier any time soon. The hours at her job as a customer service representative at the mall were being cut because of the economy, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. For the past six months, she’d borrowed half the money for the mortgage payment from her cousin Dee. She didn’t complain about it, and Terry promised herself that she’d pay back every cent; but, it seemed that all she was doing was getting deeper and deeper in debt. She didn’t want to sell the house, the boys had had a hard enough time with their father abandoning them, they didn’t need to lose their home too, but she was running out of options.

Digging inside her purse, she pulled out her wallet, checking her cash. "Seven dollars and thirty-five cents; great," she sighed.

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