LUNCHTIME SEX by Missy Jane

LUNCHTIME SEX by Missy Jane

A Romantica® older woman/younger man erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Passion and fun have been missing from Genie’s life for a long time. Most days she can only hope for a phone call from her college-age son. But that changes when a hot prospective resident walks into her leasing office and turns her world upside down. There’s only one thing holding her back from responding to his advances—his age. He’s only three years older than her son. She should resist…

Nick has just graduated college and hopes for a job in a larger city with more potential. What he doesn’t expect is to find an irresistible woman—who just happens to be the sexy mother of one of his college buddies. Resistance is futile, and he can only pray his friend doesn’t kill him once he finds out. When things heat up quickly with Genie, Nick discovers he must convince her he wants more than a bout of Lunchtime Sex.

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An Excerpt From: LUNCHTIME SEX
Copyright © MISSY JANE, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Nick glanced at his watch to see he was fifteen minutes late for his last appointment. With a grimace he hopped out of his car and all but ran for the door to the leasing office. They closed promptly at five and it was fifteen ’til. He breathed a sigh of relief when the knob turned with no problem. A low chime sounded as he stepped into the cool interior and he glanced around the seemingly empty office. He could kick himself for not looking up at least one alternate route. Houston traffic was a nightmare, but throw in a jackknifed eighteen-wheeler on the highway and it became a hundred times worse.

“Hello?” he called out. “I’m sorry I’m here so late. There was really bad traffic.”

A noise from the back drew his attention and he walked across a brightly lit room set up with comfortable-looking sofas. It led to a hallway with three doors, two closed and one slightly open.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Oh sorry. Give me a second.”

The feminine voice stirred something in him he wasn’t used to and he loosened his tie. Maybe it was just the heat. Not to mention he’d been without female company for way too long. First Mason’s mom, now a complete stranger? He rolled his eyes at his wayward thoughts. Definitely time to get laid.

He returned to the main room and stood at a large picture window where one of the complex’s three swimming pools was clearly visible. The crystal-blue water was inviting but the young kids running around screaming were a definite turn off.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“Oh hi. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He spun on his heel and froze as the woman approached with an outstretched hand. Luckily the manners ingrained from his military father kicked in and he shook her hand automatically. She didn’t seem to notice how he gaped at her beautiful face.

“I’m Genie Landers. You are?”

Nick faltered for a second and a slight frown marred her face. She didn’t seem to remember him.
That would definitely work to his advantage.

“Nick Jacoby. I had an appointment for four thirty. I apologize for running late.”

She smiled brightly and waved his apology away as she headed for a small office near the front door.

“No problem. Being so close to downtown I know getting here can be a real challenge. Where did you drive in from?”

“The east side of town. I was checking a couple of other complexes. I’m not positive yet where I’m working so thought I’d check all around the city.”

She nodded and motioned to a chair in front of her desk before taking her seat. “Completely understandable. Well, if I remember correctly you said you’ve seen our website?”

He nodded and glanced out the window behind her. The pool area was barely visible.

“Yes, I did. I was under the impression this was mostly an adult complex.”

She smiled briefly and looked down at her desk. “Well, yes. It is, mostly. However, we have a resident who is entertaining some young relatives for the summer. We’ve been assured they will only be here until the end of June.”

“Ah. Well, that’s not too bad then.”

“How soon were you looking to move in?”

He thought about it and knew giving the evasive answers he’d given the others wouldn’t work. Here was Mason’s mom right where he could see her every day if he played his cards right.

“As soon as possible. I’m already month-to-month on my apartment in Austin. So, I could be in by the first of July.”

Her elegantly sculpted eyebrows rose slightly at that and she shuffled some papers on her desk. Most likely his preliminary paperwork.

“Well, let me show you the floor plans we’ll have ready by then and perhaps you’ll see something you like.”

He grinned. “Oh, I have no doubt I will.”

Genie pasted on a pleasant smile while butterflies stampeded through her stomach. Damn this man was sexy. But of course, he was barely a man. Twenty-four might be well past legal age for most things but he couldn’t even rent a car yet. His dirty-blond hair was slightly mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. His dark-blue button-up shirt was tight enough to accentuate his broad shoulders. They tapered down to a trim waist and his well-fitting slacks. It was almost hard to look into his beautiful hazel eyes. He kept eye contact so intently she felt self-conscious.

“Well then, I’ll show all of them to you today.”

He stood when she did and waited for her to round the desk before heading for the door. He opened it and followed her out into the Houston heat.

“We have four units set up to show the different floor plans, but only two are of the size you’re interested in,” she said.

“Well, you may as well show me all of them while I’m here. You never know, I might be able to put the extra space to good use.”

She faltered a step and he grabbed her elbow as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her pulse raced.

“Of course,” she said.

Talking him into a larger unit would look great on her monthly numbers. It had been kind of slow and she needed a boost. However, she knew for a fact one of the empty units was right below hers. Could she handle having this man so close all the time?

They reached the show units and she unlocked the first door. It was a fully furnished one bedroom with a balcony. He had seemed most interested in this smaller size on the phone but now looked around with little interest.

“The bedroom is smaller than I’d like,” he said.

“Yes, it is compact. However, it has a balcony leading off the bedroom.”

She walked him around the unit, showing off its perks but he just shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, let’s take a look at the next size up.”

They walked next door and into a larger one-bedroom. This one also had a dining area.

“This one’s nice,” he said. “At least the bedroom is larger.”

She smiled and followed a few steps behind as he explored. He opened the bedroom closet door and frowned.

“Not a walk-in.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Um, no. Only the largest unit has a walk-in closet in the master bedroom.”

“Oh? Well then we can probably skip the third unit and go straight to that one.”

That’s what she’d been afraid of, but she just smiled and gave a short nod. “All right.”

They headed to the largest unit, the one with only one vacancy. It was the same floor plan she currently lived in and the most expensive. He walked in and wandered around without a word.

“The kitchen is very spacious. My apartment has this same floor plan and I love it.”

He raised a brow at that but still said nothing. She followed him to the fully furnished bedroom.

“Perfect,” he said. “This is the exact type of bed I own.”

He gripped one of the four posts and a tingle shot through her belly. She had always imagined being tied up in a bed like this and had lived it in many fantasies.

“Oh?” she asked, voice slightly shaky. “Well…now you know how it would look.”

He turned her way and she froze. Heat emanated from his gaze as he ran it down her body like a caress. A shiver raced down her spine and her knees trembled. It had been way too long since a man had looked at her with such hunger.

“I think this is perfect. My bedroom is the most important room in my opinion.”

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HAT TRICK by Cerise DeLand

HAT TRICK by Cerise DeLand

A story in the Cougar Challenge series.

Fit, fab and forty-five, Belle Sterling chomps at the bit to accept the Cougar Challenge. But finding a younger man in her one-horse Texas town is one giant problem - until two scrumptious men stroll into her office.

Gage Wagner and Trey Sandoval have been best buddies since college and know how to share...everything. When they meet luscious Belle, they know she needs the good lovin' two men can provide...together.

Belle's a regular gal and putting two men in her saddle seems like a dream. Then she tries it. More than once.

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An Excerpt From: HAT TRICK

Copyright © CERISE DELAND, 2010

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

Chapter One



“I know for certain, honey,” Belle Sterling told her newest client, twenty-two-year old bride-to-be Marilee Betterton, “that sleeping single in a double bed does not make for a happy life. Not after you’ve been married to a man you adore.”

She smiled at the young woman who sat opposite her in her office. “In fact, I have just three pieces of advice for each new bride who hires my planning services. Love the man you marry. Love him so well that ‘keeping only unto him’ is no hardship. And commit to doing whatever you each want in bed where all great marriages are made.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry on that score, Miz Sterling. My mama says exactly the same thing.”

Does she now? That’s why Doreen’s had more lovers than a bonobo monkey in her forty-five hectic years on this earth? “Not hard to do, either. To love a man.”

“I reckon I have loved Brent since we were in kindergarten. And definitely since high school. He’s going on to pro football, you know.”

“I heard.”

“I’m just so excited. We’re moving to Dallas and I get to meet all the men on the team.” Her eyes lit up like the year-round Christmas lights on her mama’s front porch. “Imagine that.”

Belle did. And she tried not to wince at the feeling Brent Fuller was gonna get when he saw his new little wife bat her baby browns at his buddies. “Well, Marilee, let’s meet again next week. Is this a good day and time for you?” Belle looked at her calendar on the computer screen as the young woman agreed. “Good. Do bring your tentative list of invitees and we’ll see what our potential sites are for the reception.”

“Mama wants to come, too.” The girl was fishing for feedback.

Doreen Betterton and Belle were not friends. Never had been since Doreen tried to scoop Walt Sterling from Belle when they were all in high school. But Belle was ready to let bygones be bygones. Walt had never cottoned to Doreen. Never took her bait, either. Besides, Walt was gone now and their married life had been twenty-two years of the finest bliss a woman could imagine. Plus, Doreen was welcome to the pickings around here. No man within a hundred miles interested Belle enough to get her pussy wet, and even if he succeeded, he wouldn’t know what to do with it.

Belle cleared her throat and smiled. “I hope she does come with you. There are so many things to decide, Marilee, and your mother will be a great help to you in this.”

“That’s right. Mama says I’m gonna be a better wife than she ever was.”

Belle couldn’t resist the lure. “How’s that?”

“She says she just knows that Brent is the right man for me and that we are going to be married forever.”

But minutes later, watching spoiled-rotten Marilee preen, rise from her chair and strut her toned little ass out of her office, Belle wasn’t going to give a plug nickel that the young filly would or could take any of her suggestions.

“Of course, the girl is twenty-two,” Belle muttered as the tiny bells on her door knob rang out Marilee’s exit. “Who knows what love or marriage is all about at that age?” Belle whispered to herself.

I did.

Yeah. Well. I had a mother and father who taught me how to love. Totally. No one and nothing else greater than the union. Not too many who know how to do that nowadays.

Belle sighed, hit a few buttons on her computer screen to close the files on the Betterton-Fuller wedding and pushed away from her desk. She stood, ran her hands down her slim skirt and strode to the window. The brilliant Texas sun hit her in the face and even though she had jacked up the air conditioner to seventy-five this morning, August in southwest Texas meant triple digit heat by noon. She inhaled the steamy beauty of her little hometown. Main Street was humming. The Duck’s Bill Bakery was jumping with customers hot for their German crullers. Jack’s Auto Shop was buzzing with a couple of ranchers who had scraped the paint off each other’s pick-ups yesterday. And one of her two best friends, Aurora Mansfield, waved at her while watering her geraniums in front of her flower shop.

And me? I’m standing here wondering if my life is now only about helping twenty-somethings get hitched.

Sure. She loved the wedding business. The organization. The cake. The bouquets. The fun of invitations and receptions and gowns.

The romance.

The thrill of watching a man eye his bride. The way his gaze would flow over her face, her throat, down to her breasts.

Belle would often play a silent game with herself noting how long it took for the bride to sense her groom’s eyes on her. How long before she would squirm, feeling the cream in her pussy, the throb of her labia, the need to have his fingers play with her and open her wide for his mouth. And his cock.

Belle squeezed her own thighs together. Felt her own insides gush with moisture. Remembering desire.

Remembering Walt Sterling. His blue eyes on her lips. His firm mouth on her throat. Her nipples. His teeth nipping her areolas. His rough tongue licking her until she squealed. His fingers drifting down her ribs, caressing her stomach, twining in her cunt hair. “Love your pretty red pussy hair, Belle of mine,” he would croon as he’d lift her against him, by that time both of them stark naked. “Like a beacon. Gonna make you come hard for me, baby. How would you like me today?” he’d whisper as he bit her earlobe. “Slow or fast?”

Wild. Often. Furious. She’d tell him anything she wanted that day.

“In my mouth? In your sweet ass?” He’d offer her a few more options.

She loved sex with him any way at all. All the time. Any time. Day. Night. In the barn standing up. In their truck sitting down. In their kitchen on their table, their breakfast dishes bumping to their body-rocking rhythm.

So long ago. Three years to be exact.

“God. I loved you, Walt.” Belle jumped, stunned at herself that she’d said it out loud. “Isn’t there any man alive who’s your equal? I’m lonely here, honey.”

Her gaze ran up and down Main Street and the answer she got this morning was the same as the one she’d had yesterday and the month before and the year before that.

“I’m not finding one I want to be with. In bed or out.” Not in this one-horse town. Too small to offer variety. And few strangers strolled in.

Problem was, Belle knew precisely two local men who were eligible. Both were widowers. Nice guys. But over sixty. Fifteen years older than she! And frankly, she needed a man who could not only get it up, but get it going on for more than five minutes of slam-bam. She liked sex. Really liked sex. Funky, funny, feverish sex. Walt, who had been two years older than she, had taught her to need it, crave it and initiate it. So she wasn’t about to settle for lukewarm lovin’ when she knew how lusty, sweaty, energetic fucking could improve a woman’s attitude, to say nothing of her complexion or the ability of her hungry little kitty to howl.

“I can’t go on like this,” she muttered and strode back to her computer. “I need a young man with class, imagination and raging hormones. But damn if I know how and where to find one!” She plunked herself in her chair, revved up the internet and surfed over to her friends’ blog at Tempt the Cougar. Belle had discovered their exciting personal stories about hooking up with younger men, then three months ago she’d begun to correspond with a few of them individually. Over the last year, each of the women had consciously decided to seek out younger men to satisfy a need for great sex. To date, each of them developed satisfying relationships with their partners. Belle didn’t need a long-term relationship so much as she needed a good romp in the hay.


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BUMP 'N' GRIND by Sam Cheever

BUMP 'N' GRIND by Sam Cheever

Attractive divorcee, Felicia Jeffries, is turning 45 and her friends have dragged her to a male strip club to celebrate. If she had her druthers, Felicia would be hiding in a dark corner with her friends. Instead, she finds herself on stage, dirty dancing with a sexy hottie whose smoldering glances tell Felicia that he could care less about the difference in their ages.

Garrett Holcomb has always liked older women. He enjoys convincing them that their bodies' natural changes are sexy, rather than the negative they perceive them to be. When Felicia slides her sexy body against his that night in the dance club, he knows they're meant to be together.

But someone else doesn't think their love is healthy. And he'll do anything to make sure they miss out on the future they want together. Including nearly murdering a man...and pinning Garrett for the attack.

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An Excerpt From: BUMP ’N’ GRIND

Copyright © SAM CHEEVER, 2011

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

Felicia pulled into the lot and parked. She stared at the low-slung brick building, chewing her bottom lip nervously. She wasn’t gonna be able to do it. It was crazy.

Bliss was nuts.

A forceful knock on her window made her jump and shriek in alarm. She turned to see Bliss’ attractive café mocha face grinning through the glass at her. “I knew you’d get cold feet, so I was waiting for you.”

Felicia climbed out of the car. “You bitch. You scared the shit out of me.”

Bliss laughed, linking her arm through Felicia’s. She looked incredible as always. Bliss was tall and well built, with huge boobs and a firm, round ass. She kept herself in fine shape and nature had been kind to her, giving her high sculpted cheekbones, gorgeous golden-brown eyes, and a wide mouth with full, sexy lips. She wore her hair in a soft, seventies-type ‘fro, and it worked for her. Her clingy, extremely short black dress looked as if it had been made for her, and only Bliss could get away with red shoes that had four-inch-high stiletto heels without looking like a hooker.

Felicia smoothed a hand nervously down the front of her Oriental-style red dress. The dress had a high neckline and cap sleeves and she knew she looked good in it but it was a little tight for her comfort level, showing every curve in her body. Even the ones she didn’t want to advertise. Compared to Bliss’ “fuck me” shoes, Felicia’s simple black heels seemed dowdy.

“You look sexy as hell, Miss Felicia.” Bliss purred. She gave Felicia’s arm a tug and all but dragged her toward the door of the club, stopping with her hand on the knob and turning to her nervous friend. “Are you ready to have your life changed?”

Felicia closed her eyes and filled her lungs with air. Stars burst in front of her eyes. “I can’t go in there, Bliss. Don’t make me.”

Bliss laughed and threw open the door. The low pulse of music throbbed from the room, the bass set so low Felicia’s jaw vibrated as she stepped over the threshold. As loud as it was, the music was occasionally eclipsed by a burst of feminine shrieking.

Felicia looked past the bar toward the long, curvy stage that split the room in half. The stage was about chest high and had chairs all around it, with a narrow ledge for the customers sitting in the chairs to set their drinks on. Connected to the drinking bar across the back, the stage was lit with colored strobe lights and had dancers on it.

Male dancers.

Scantily clad male dancers.

Felicia blushed and averted her face from Bliss, not wanting to endure the razzing she knew would follow if her friend noticed.

Bliss’ throaty laugh told her it was too late. “Come on, Polly Pureheart. The girls are saving a seat for you.”

A welcoming cheer erupted as Bliss dragged Felicia over to the edge of the stage, where all her friends were seated with nearly empty glasses in front of them.

“I see you’ve gotten a head start on me.” Felicia grinned at Elizabeth Collins, her best friend since college. Elizabeth had turned forty-five a few months earlier but didn’t look a day over thirty-five, due to some really good genes, some strategic sculpting and monthly visits to a great hairdresser.

In response to Felicia’s jab, Elizabeth pursed her lips and made a fart noise. To which every one of Felicia’s friends hooted as if she’d told the world’s best joke.

Felicia rolled her eyes. “How long have they been here?”

“I think since about five o’clock. Betty’s already met all the dancers. She has their names and phone numbers in her little notebook.”

Felicia looked down the row of her friends to the short, pudgy librarian with glasses. Betty was the oldest of her friends and didn’t try to hide it. She looked every bit of fifty years, right down to the short bob with bangs she wore her graying brown hair in. “Betty?”

Betty lifted the notebook over her head and yelled, “Oo-rah!”

They all burst into laughter again.

Beth patted the seat next to her. “Sit down, honey. We saved you a seat.”

Felicia glanced from the seat at the dancing bar toward the scantily clad young man on top. There couldn’t have been more than five feet in distance between them. She’d be close enough to catch a flying drop of sweat…or get soaked in an errant wave of pheromones.

“Why don’t we move over there?” She pointed to a dark corner that was just about as far away from the dancers as they could get.

Beth grabbed her hand and yanked her into the chair. “Not a chanch, honey,” she slurred.

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BITS 'N BYTES by Sam Cheever

BITS 'N BYTES - an Ellora's Cave's Sophisticate release by Sam Cheever

Self proclaimed cougar, Bliss Drake has blue screened. Suffering from a broken heart and a dead computer, she finds herself standing in the middle of an electronics store nursing sweaty palms and lusty thoughts.

Tall, dark, and sexy, Brad Hoffman is a self-proclaimed nerd. When the beautiful black woman with a serious fear of computers starts talking about flinging herself into a display case at his favorite electronics store, he's happy to offer his...erm...services.

Can a computer phobic beauty and a sexy nerd ever sync up? Only if they can cobble together the right bits 'n bytes!

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An Excerpt From: BITS ’N’ BYTES

Copyright © SAM CHEEVER, 2010

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

Chapter One



Bliss Drake stood in the center of the massive store, filled with torture devices for normal people who didn’t understand computers and the rectangular, plastic creatures that tormented them. Her pulse raced and her head was pounding.

How the hell was she gonna figure out which box of bits and bytes she needed to fix her problem when she had no idea what her problem was?

“Can I help you, Miss?”

Bliss turned to find an extremely tall, very good looking young man looking at her. He had thick, dark hair, cut military short, bright green eyes, and a square chin with a dimple in it that made her mouth water.

Sensual awareness jolted through her, causing a twinge between her thighs that she recognized all too well.

Booty call.

She couldn’t believe she was even thinking of sex in that house of horrors. Doing an internal head shake, she smiled. “Oh thank god! Yes!” His bright, green eyes sparkled from behind wire-rimmed glasses as she threw herself at him and enveloped him in an impetuous hug.

“I was just about to fling myself through one of these glass cases and end my misery.”

He laughed, the sound rolling over her like warm water and leaving behind a soft flush of pleasure on her skin. If Bliss had been seriously considering ending it all via display case that laugh would have probably talked her out of it. “Let’s see if we can get you fixed up so you don’t need to break any glass and put holes in that pretty skin of yours, shall we?”

“That sounds good. I have plans for the weekend anyway, so self-mutilation is probably not a good idea.”

Some of the laughter left his sexy eyes. “Big date?”

Bliss shook her head, “Just going to Southern Indiana to do some antique shopping. I feel the need to get away.”

“All by yourself?”

Bliss’ smile was wry. “Trust me, in the mood I’m in that’s the best way to be right now.”

He tilted his head, “Feeling stressed and depressed?”

Bliss laughed for the first time in days. When his smile widened the effects went straight south, her panties dampened and her body gave a familiar little twang, recognizing him as a potential mate. It was a feeling she’d learned to respect. “Something like that.”

He stared at her for a moment longer, but when she didn’t elaborate he nodded. “Well, at least I can help you with your software woes. What problem are we trying to solve?”

Bliss groaned. “My thingy stopped working and I can’t up my load.”

He rolled his lips. “That sounds serious. Have you called a doctor?”

She snorted. “Har! No really, I need to be able to access my email and get to my chat groups…this is seriously dire!”

Strong, white teeth came out to nibble on a sexy lower lip as he tried hard not to laugh at her. “Chat groups, eh. Maybe we should notify the Federal Communications Commission.”

Bliss didn’t laugh. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Hmmm, I see this is serious. Okay, tell me what kind of computer you have.”

“Well, it’s rectangular and black.”

The tall, attractive salesman gave up trying to hide his ever-ready smile. “That certainly narrows it down. I assume this bad boy has a lid versus standing upright on the floor.”

“That is correct.”

He nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder to lead her toward a shelf a few aisles away. “We’re narrowing in on it. Another five, maybe ten years and I should be able to ID the problem.”

Bliss gave him a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know squat about these things. I’m a victim of my generation, we didn’t grow up on bits and bytes you know.”

“Okay, Gramma Moses…”

Bliss cocked an eyebrow at him.

“What type of operating system does this rectangular black monster with a lid run under?”

“Umm… Electricity?”

It was his turn to sigh. “This might take longer than I first suspected.”

“Good thing you get paid by the hour.”

He laughed. “I wish. If I did I’d be a millionaire.”

“Wait! You don’t work here?”

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ADDING HEAT by Cris Anson

ADDING HEAT - A story by Cris Anson in Ellora's Cave's Cougar Challenge Series

Encouraged by friends she met at RomantiCon, widowed landscape contractor Giselle Sheridan decides she's finally ready to take the cougar challenge and explore sex with a younger man. Except she's too busy during planting season to go on the prowl.

CPA Conlan Trowbridge is battling the IRS deadline for his clients, but when Giselle saunters into his office with a tax question, all he can think of is sex. She's all luscious curves and smoldering brown eyes, and he doesn't care if she's a dozen years older, she's a wet dream come true.

Oh yeah, they're both ready for some hot and heavy sex - in the tub, parking lots, their offices - anywhere and everywhere. But Giselle is afraid her age will eventually bother Con, and her longtime foreman also has designs on her, in more ways than one. When Giselle faces some hard decisions, will she ultimately be able to keep the heat?

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An Excerpt From: ADDING HEAT

Copyright © CRIS ANSON, 2010

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

Could he be any more goody-goody than thinking a bicycle ride was an appropriate first date?

The dimple in his smile as he waved hello didn’t catch her interest this time. She was angry that she’d been hoodwinked. No, that wasn’t fair. It was her own fault she’d misunderstood.

But oh lord, when he walked to the back of the truck, her eyes popped at the finest, tightest, roundest ass she’d ever seen. Come to think of it, his thighs were more muscular than she’d imagined when she’d seen him in loose-fitting dress pants at the Senior Center.

And his belly. It was concave under the spandex. His clothes looked painted on, and every step showed the flex and flow of his muscles. Not an ounce of fat. Anywhere. She could just imagine the type of woman he probably dated. No way was she in anywhere near the shape of those twenty- and thirty-somethings with hard bodies and unlined skin who rode in biking marathons.

He looked like one of her employees, young and buff and…

She gulped. Was he actually being a tease? Or was she just acting like the dirty old lady Larry had accused her of being?

Larry. Good grief. She’d consciously avoided him, avoided the upcoming confrontation, since the other morning when they’d shared that unexpected kiss. She’d always considered Larry in the context of an employee, not a man, although he was tall and burly and masculine down to his big workboots. But his kiss was as manly as any she’d ever experienced. She’d probably be smart to consider dating Larry and leaving Con to the younglings.

“You might get a little warm and sweaty in those jeans,” Con said as he rolled out one of the bikes and leaned it against the porch railing. “And you might want to wear sneakers.”

Was this guy really a nerd? Or was this his way of trying to impress her?

Okay, she’d show him. Without a word she marched back upstairs and a few minutes later walked back out wearing a brand-new outfit she’d bought for wintertime exercise at a health club she never got around to joining—tight, mid-thigh, spandex workout shorts and sports bra that lifted her ample breasts and maximized her cleavage. The get-up showed a fair amount of skin between garments and she was gratified that his mouth actually dropped open as he rolled the second bike to a stop.

“Is this better?” she cooed. And smiled at the instant bulge his molded shorts couldn’t hide.

Instead of turning to hide his erection, as she’d expected a goody-goody to do, his eyes shot lightning bolts and he strode purposefully toward her.

“I‘ve wanted to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he murmured as he cradled her head between his palms. His mouth touched hers and all hell broke loose inside her.

He shifted his stance, bringing her in closer contact with all his bumps and ridges. She found herself responding, not just to the feel of his lips, firm yet featherlight as they teased her mouth, but to the heady sense of being enveloped in a cocoon of testosterone as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Then he spun them around so her back was against the driver’s-side door and he sandwiched her between it and that hard, wiry body whose firm texture took her by surprise.

Oh God, it had been so long since a man had rubbed against her in such a sexual way. Her pussy tightened. Her nipples jumped to attention. Of their own volition, her arms encircled his waist and her hands began stroking that muscled back.

Suddenly it wasn’t enough. Something inside her reared up, something frustrated and hungry and ignored too long. Grabbing the stretchy fabric, she yanked his shirt from his waistband to feel smooth, warm skin, like silicone over iron. She wanted to lick him all over, wanted her naked body rubbing against his. She wanted to see, to taste the cock that was poking into her belly like a shovel handle.

Her mouth captured his tongue, sucked it in like a Popsicle. Her hands moved to map the curvature of his waist then delved upward to follow the ridges of his abs to search for those flat nipples she loved to scratch, like pushing buttons, to make a man jump to her beat.

“Giselle,” he murmured, wrenching his head back. “Stop.”

Somewhere amid all the jumbled emotions, her brain began functioning, then tossed out a bitter thought. He was calling a halt because he was embarrassed. She had to be a dozen years older than him. And yeah, he’d reacted to her blatant display of curves and skin, and she’d been thrilled that he seemed attracted to her, but now he’d come to his senses with a vengeance.

She went rigid against the truck, let her hands drop. Felt him step back and watched as he tucked in his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t mean to make you—”

“We have company.”

“Uncomfortable— What?”

“Someone’s coming down your driveway. See that plume of dust?”

“Dust?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want anyone to see you in a compromising position.”

With difficulty, Giselle focused on the approaching vehicle. A truck. A very familiar truck.


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COPPING A FEEL by Lexxie Couper

COPPING A FEEL by Lexxie Couper
A standalone title in Elora's Cave's Cougar Challenge series.

Darci-Rae Whitlam doesn't know which is more disturbing, receiving scads of obscene phone calls - or getting so turned-on by said phone calls. Then there's the email from her American friend, Rachel, taunting Darci with something called a Cougar Challenge. Just the thought of seducing a younger man is enough to permanently soak her knickers. No wonder her ever-disapproving sister thinks she's oversexed!

Cybercrime Detective Jarrod St. James is investigating a case of stolen identity. He quickly learns the fiery redhead claiming to be Darci-Rae Whitlam is the real deal (his shoulder trapped in the jaws of her gargantuan dog might have sped that decision along). He really should go back to Sydney, continue tracking the imposter who's operating a phone-sex business in Darci's name...but the woman proves too tempting. Job be damned, he has to have her. The fact she's got a titillating challenge to complete only helps his case.

Darci just may be the fastest cougar to snag her cub yet. Being the victim of a crime has never been more fun!

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An Excerpt From: COPPING A FEEL

Copyright © LEXXIE COUPER, 2010

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

Pursuing a case of identity theft beyond the computer lab was exciting—but wasn’t meant to end up in a quiet street in coastal Newcastle. What kind of criminal mastermind lived in a neat little two-story surrounded by gum trees, wattle and tree ferns? With a 1996 Volvo in the driveway? A Volvo wearing a “Public Education. It’s Our Future” bumper sticker, no less?

Jarrod breathed another drawn-out sigh. Maybe he’d been too long in front of a computer after all. This couldn’t be right. This felt wrong.

“But this is the only address for someone claiming to be Darci-Rae Whitlam,” he muttered, scanning the front windows, the gauzy curtains and wide awnings concealing the interior from his inspection. “And it was someone claiming to be Darci-Rae Whitlam who spoke to you on the phone a mere three hours ago.”

With alarming ease, his cock twitched at the memory. The woman—whoever she really was—had the most amazing voice. A voice created to send a man wild. She’d said very little that could condemn her. Asked a very husky question about what he would do with his tongue after he brought her to orgasm with his fingers, wondered if he had staying power, pondered what it would be like to be tied up by him. But in that voice of hers, like smoke and velvet playing in the back of her throat…it was enough to set his groin on rock-hard alert and his pulse quickening beyond fast.

Is that the real reason you’re here? ’Cause a possible crook got you horny with just her voice?


For the third time he let out a protracted sigh, this one tainted with deprecating disgust. Fuck, what was he doing?

“Catching a criminal, Detective.” His growled whisper rumbled deep in his chest. “That’s it. Catching a criminal who’s stolen the real Ms. Whitlam’s life—and making her pay.”

He forced away the sensation of stirring steel in his cock, narrowed his stare on the front door of the house and crossed the front yard, the delicate perfume of the native violet ambling through the flowerbeds wafting into each breath he took.

Climbing the five steps leading to the front porch on silent feet, he unclipped the holster on his Glock, planted his feet slightly apart, squared his shoulders and raised his hand to knock on the door. Ready to take on whatever came—

The door flung open and a goddess with brilliant green eyes and wild, fiery-red hair smacked straight into him.

Followed immediately by a bear cleverly disguised as a dog. A growling dog.

He stumbled back a step, grabbing the goddess’s upper arms even as the bear—err, dog—slammed two paws roughly the size of the Opera House against his chest.

“Eep!” the goddess cried, and Jarrod’s balls prickled in instant interest as the sexiest voice he’d ever heard caressed his ears for the second time that day.

Still struggling under the dog’s massive force, he tightened his grip on her arms, his fingers telling him exactly what his mind had already decided. The goddess was smooth, warm and firm to the touch. Sex and sin and toned feminine strength in one incredible package. He could feel her triceps flex and coil beneath his hands, a realization that made his balls not just prickle with interest but rise up and grow heavy.

Fuck, he was in trouble.

The dog shoved him, teeth bared, muzzle wrinkled, and before his stupefied brain could process the situation, he fell backward, stumbling down the front porch steps, dog and goddess joining him—reluctantly, by the sounds of the dog’s snarls and the goddess’ surprised shout—in a very undignified free fall.

“Oof!”

The ground hit his ass, or more to the point, his ass hit the ground, at the exact moment the dog decided snarling just wouldn’t cut it anymore and the goddess decided she needed to slam into him with her entire weight. Wicked teeth latched onto his shoulder just as a slender, curved knee rammed into his crotch, followed by a palm heel to the solar plexus.

Jarrod’s groin and chest exploded in black stars of pain. He let out a shout that sounded like a croak, thanks in part to the strangled pain in his chest and the dog’s canines threateningly latched to his shoulder.

Yep, definitely been in front of a computer for too long, Jarrod.


The surreal thought flittered through his reeling mind, seconds before another palm heel struck him in the jaw.

“Let go of me, dickhead,” the husky voice growled, a dangerous caress. “Or I’ll let my dog eat you.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jarrod choked out, struggling under the massive dog’s rather insistent attack. Thank God for his thick cotton shirt, otherwise his shoulder would look as if it’d been through a cheese grater. He gripped the goddess’s arms tighter still, the base male part of his mind pointing out she reclined full stretch atop him now, her firm softness separated from his body by nothing more than two layers of clothing and a seriously protective mutt.

The thought sent a surge of eager blood through his veins, flooding his already semi-hard dick with wildly inappropriate intent. Unable to do anything else, Jarrod flipped the goddess and her hellhound, dislodging the dog’s teeth in the process, and straddled them both. “Wait!” he panted, staring down into eyes the color of raw emeralds. With an abrupt shift in position, he pressed his knee—gently but forcefully—on the dog’s neck, pinning the animal to the ground so the bloody thing couldn’t take any more bites out of his hide, and then grabbed the goddess’s wrists and pinned them to the ground beside her head.

“Get off me!” she snarled through clenched teeth, squirming beneath him. “Who the hell are you? Get off me, you prick.”

She bucked again and Jarrod bit back a groan. With all her thrashing and writhing, there was no way she would have missed the growing bulge in his jeans. Damn it, his bloody erection kept poking her in the belly every time she moved, contained by his jeans or not.

Way too long in front of a computer, Jarrod. Way too long.


“Wait,” he snapped one last time, and for a dizzying moment he wondered what the hell had happened to his vocabulary. Maybe he’d left it on the front porch along with his pride and professionalism.

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