Showing posts with label Erotic IR Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erotic IR Romance. Show all posts

Sunday, June 1, 2014

DUAL DESIRES by Shyla Colt

DUAL DESIRES by Shyla Colt

A Red Hot and BOOM Story

The red, white and blue rally used to be a high point for Ardy Larkin. The festival brought in enough money for the town to scrape by, and added a bit of excitement to the air. This year everything’s different. Her father made a deal he couldn’t back, and now her life is forfeit. Demanded as payment for their debt she finds herself attached to the biggest, baddest, member of the Dueling Devils M.C., their president, Demon.

In need of someone to watch his children while he was away, Ardy Larkin seemed like the perfect solution to all Demon’s problems, until he caught a case of feelings for an innocent girl who didn’t belong in his world. When a dangerous situation forces his feeling to the forefront, he shows her what it means to be claimed by a member of the Dueling Devils.

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~Excerpt~

Normally, the rumble of motorcycles put butterflies in Ardy Larkin’s stomach. The Red, White, and Blue Rally brought in a huge portion of money that kept the economy in Denton, North Carolina from being dead in the water. Last year, her father made a deal with the Devil—The Dueling Devils to be exact. The one-percenter biker gang fronted him enough cash to keep the family bar and grill open. The terms had never been talked about in her presence, but she knew for a fact they were short. They’d barely kept themselves clothed and fed this year. Now, it was time to pay the piper. What will the cost be?

Ardy shifted her weight and watched the chrome and steel beasts zip by the window. A group of bikes broke away from the stream and lined the parking spaces in front of the bar. Her legs turned to rubber, and she caught the edge of the counter top, holding on for dear life as she forced herself to remain standing. Red-horned caricatures of devils faced each other below a white 1 percent emblem on their vests. The Dueling Devils patches were impossible to mistake. The door swung open. Her heart slapped against her ribs.

She feigned a coolness she didn’t feel, wiping the bar with her sanitized towel. Boots stomped over the floor toward her. The swinging doors that separated the main area from the entrance flapped together.

“Ardy.” Her father’s voice held concern.

“Yes, sir?” She looked up. Her father’s stormy blue eyes bored a hole into her. Worry and concern clouded their normal vibrancy. The ever present smile considered Pat Larkin’s trademark was gone.

“Close down the shop and head home early, okay?” Shocked, she stared at him, rooted to the spot. They never closed early. “Ardy.” The terse tone of her father’s voice broke through her stupor.

“I’m on it, Da.” She placed her towel in the dirty bucket they laundered daily, and stepped from behind the bar. The sensation of eyes on her back amplified with every step she took. Flipping the sign from open to closed, she turned the dead bolt.

“Thank you. Now, straight home,” her father said.

“Oh no, I think she should stay.” The husky voice made her belly bottom out like the tallest roaster coast at an amusement park. “Your failure to come through is going to affect her directly. I think she deserves to know about it up front.”

She rotated slowly and faced the man effectively taking a wrecking ball to her life—Demon, the Dueling Devils’ president. The sheer size of him intimidated her. At least six-foot-three with broad shoulders and a solid build, the man was massive. Bronze skin peeked out from beneath the mural of colorful tattoos that covered the thick muscles of his arm. Mesmerized by his magnetism, she moved her gaze up to his face. A square jaw, long, straight nose, and oval-shaped face gave him rugged beauty. His brown eyes held novels full of experience. He couldn’t be much more than late thirties, but those eyes were wizened. Her mouth dried out, and her muscles tensed. What could he possibly want with me? Illustration of degradation, unwanted sexual advances, and submission danced behind her lids.

She’d seen the house mouses who didn’t want to be where they ended up. Dead eyes, fake smiles, and strain were the things each one seemed to have in common. Demon focused in on her, and their gazes clashed. Like a snake trapped by the flute notes played by a charmer, she found herself unable to look away.

“What the hell does Ardy have to do with any of this?” Her father’s chest heaved. He stood ramrod straight, clenching his hands, but his voice remained tempered. They had a lot riding on this. A show of the Larkins’ infamous Irish temper wouldn’t help a damn thing.

“We need to take this to the office.” Demon nodded toward the double doors that lead to the small office in the back. “Refreshments for my boys?”

“Of course .” Her father nodded. “Ardy, stay here and serve them.”

“No, she comes with us,” Demon said.

The no-negotiable tone made her stomach clench. Blood rushed in her ears. Questions swirled in her head, swarming like a hive of agitated bees trying to protect their queen from danger. Overwhelmed, each thought felt fleeting, moving out of her grasp before she could get a handle on it. Panic dumbed her. Like a deer caught in headlights, she lost the ability to rationalize. The walk to the office was the longest of her life. Ushered into a chair by her father, she sat beside him on the opposite side of the desk from Demon.

“Do you want to tell me what you meant out there?” her father said.

“She’s the payment I’ll be collecting for your debt,” Demon said.

The world spun, and she swayed as the impact stole her breath. She gripped the arms of the chair to anchor her and took deep breaths. Don’t throw up, don’t throw up. This didn’t happen in real life, not to women like her. She’d been a straight A student and hadn’t lost her virginity until twenty, for Christ’s sake.

“Bullshit!” Her father’s voice boomed in the empty space. His meaty fist pounded the wooden surface in front of him.

Demon’s jaw clenched. A pending sense of doom rocketed through her body, and she surged forward.

“Dad, let’s hear him out.”

“What?” Her father turned his head to stare at her. His round face was beet red, and a vein throbbed in the center of his forehead. “This isn’t the eighteen-hundreds. I’m not auctioning you off like some kind of whore.”

“Did I say I wanted her for sex?” Demon asked.

“What else would you want her for, Demon?”

“You’d best watch your tone, Paddy. You make a deal with the devil, he’s going to eventually come to call, especially when you don’t deliver.”

The quiet promise of violence in Demon’s voice wasn’t lost on her. She grabbed her father’s arm and dug her nails into the flesh of the corded muscles built up from years of manual labor. There were six other people in her family to worry about. He couldn’t afford to be out of commission.

“I apologize,” her father said with a thick brogue. The Irish accent always became more pronounced when strong emotions hit. Her mother claimed that’s what pulled her toward her father in the first place. Her parents were an odd pair. The staunch Catholic Irish man, and the small town Baptist African American girl—it hadn’t been an easy road to pave.

Demon nodded. “I’ll let it slide this once, given the circumstances and the fact that no one else is around to witness it. Don’t make the mistake of forgetting yourself again.” The air seemed to lose oxygen. The room shrank like some medieval torture chamber.

“What I find myself in need of is a live-in nanny. I know this family. You’re good people. She’s the oldest of four children, who’s always looked out after her younger siblings. When she grew up she tended the bar.”

She gaped at Demon, stunned by his spot—on summary. He smirked. The devilish grin changed him completely. The scary factor gave way to sexy, and she did her best not to drool. Jesus, too much work and no recreation has sent me around the bend.

“I know everything that goes on this town, Ardy,” Demon said. The sound of her name on his lips made her shiver. “My sister’s charter is here.”

“That’s it? You want her to watch someone’s kids?” Her father frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“No.” Demon’s eyes flashed. “It’s for my children. I don’t like imposing on my boys’ families all the time, or leaving them with some biker bunny. I need a more permanent arrangement”

Relief crashed over Ardy like a wave. “I can take care of children in my sleep.” She latched onto the familiar task like a lifeline. “How many are there, and what ages?”

Demon shifted his attention to her. “Two. Harley is three, and her brother Rocket is four.”

She memorized the information, turning the unique names over in her mind. “Oh those are sweet ages.” Ardy smiled.

“Yeah, they’re good kids, believe it or not.” Demon snorted.

“And how long would this be for?” her father asked.

Demon narrowed his eyes at her father. “Until I feel like the debt’s paid.” He leaned forward. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Her father ground his teeth together. “You expect her to uproot her life and what, go with you?” He drummed his fingers on his desk.

“She’d have the rally to adjust to Harley and Rocket, and say her goodbyes. But when we pull out of this town, she’ll be with us. I didn’t make this happen, Paddy. Don’t look at me as if I came in out of nowhere and shook you down. You know we’re not in the business of generosity.”

“It’s fine. I’ll do it. Birdie can run the bar in my stead. She’s just as capable. I know she can swing college and work,” Ardy said, frantic to solve this peaceably. She’d seen the destruction the Devils could do. It wasn’t something she needed to go around feeling responsible for. Arrogant or not, Demon had been right when he said this would be getting off easy. She’d seen the gang burn down an establishment before to prove a point.

“Ardy.” Her father shook his head. Shame filled his eyes. Family above all had been drilled in her head from the minute she’d been old enough to comprehend it. She wouldn’t let him back out now when they could solve this issue peaceably.

“Looks like I’m getting that overdue vacation, huh, Da?”

He shook his head.

Demon cleared his throat. “My kids are here. I expect you to spend time getting to know them, making sure they’re comfortable before we get back home. I’m a busy man, away more than I’m home. I want to know things in my house are as they should be.” The steely determination in his dark eyes turned her blood cold. They promised pain if she did wrong by his kids.

“I—I understand,” Ardy said.

“Good, I’ll be back around this evening with them. Be ready to go back to the hotel with us.”

“I—okay?” She glanced at her dad, who issued a curt nod. If he lost it now, things would get ugly fast. You didn’t mess with the Dueling Devils. People who mouthed off, or double crossed them, had a way of disappearing, or wishing they could. Nerves made her bounce her leg.

“I think you should get home and get your things together. It’s time Demon and I speak alone.”

Uncertain of who trumped who in this situation, she turned to glance at Demon, who nodded. “Oh yeah, I think we’ll get along just fine,” Demon said with a sly smile.

Heat filled her cheeks, and she looked away, embarrassed by the spark of excitement that rose in her chest. She’d never been out of town other than away games during basketball season in high school. There was freedom in leaving behind everything she knew, and the mile-high pile of responsibilities that tied her to the bar. She loved her family, but she often dreamed of more. In a town where couples had known one another since the womb and been married off right out of high school, she’d always felt like the odd man out.

Hindered by the responsibility of playing surrogate mother while her parents scrimped together every penny they made to get the bar up and running, she’d never really had a chance to connect to anyone on that level. Guilt made her lower her head as she stood. I should be terrified. What kind of a person wants to leave behind their home?

Ashamed, she slunk out of the office and took the back exit.

She sat inside her car, gathering her thoughts as she ran over what she’d tell her mother. There’d be hell in the Larkin home. Her mother had been against dealing with the Devils in the first place. Having her firstborn whisked away like some fairytale gone wrong would only exasperate the rift her father’s decision made.

Her thoughts wandered back to Demon. He ran the Dueling Devils with an iron fist, made men twice his size quake in fear, but cared enough to hire a nanny for his kids? Hell, him having kids had come as a shock. What happened to the mother? Full of questions with no answers, she started up the reliable sedan and pulled out of the parking lot.

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Friday, August 23, 2013

SELECTED LOVERS by Zenobia Renquist

SELECTED LOVERS by Zenobia Renquist

Caveat Emptor 7.5 - spin-off


Love, like peace, is never easy where two men are concerned.

The war is over, and now it’s time to rebuild. Rhea has been chosen at random to sit on a joint council to help decide future relations between mages, vampires, and humans. Jeremy and Colm are appointed her guards. What should have been a simple escort assignment becomes so much more when a spell meant to kill ignites a passionate encounter with Rhea caught in the middle.

Haunted by her desires and craving another threesome, Rhea knows it can't happen. Jeremy is a mage. Colm is a vampire. The men tolerate each other because they’re under orders to cooperate. Without another spell to force them, they would never agree to sharing Rhea again. She has to choose -- the mage with a satisfying kiss or the vampire with a passionate bite…or maybe the third option she hasn’t yet considered.

Caveat Emptor -- Let the Buyer Beware.

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Selected Lovers (Caveat Emptor 7.5)
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Zenobia Renquist

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Rhea shoved her car door open, grumbling and cursing under her breath. Mondays belonged in the eighth circle of Hell along with the rest of the frauds. It wasn't a real day. It was Hell visited upon Earth in the guise of a real day. That had to be the case because no one should have to endure the amount of shit she had without divine punishment being involved.

A computer crash that ate all her work, missed deadlines that had popped up at the last minute, the wrong presentation for an important client, and to top it all off, being rear-ended while trying to merge in a construction zone. Thankfully the collision had been at a slow speed and hadn't caused any damage. Rhea rubbed at the pinch in her neck that she hoped was stress and not symptomatic of a bigger problem. She'd been too pissed off to get the insurance information of the woman who'd hit her.

All Rhea wanted was a hot bath and alone time. Lots and lots of alone time where she pretended the world outside her bathroom didn't exist. She didn't even have the mental energy to lie to herself about everything being better tomorrow.

Monday -- fraud -- eighth circle of Hell. That was all there was to it. She would be raised up from Hell as soon as she baptized herself with lavender-scented bubbles and a bottle of peach rum. She was still debating whether she would drink the entire bottle or two-thirds of it.

She kicked her car door shut and headed for her apartment. Two steps from the porch she stopped. "Fucking hell!"

A little yellow notice was taped below the peephole. The words "Delinquent Payment Notice" mocked her in giant bold lettering. Delinquent payment her ass. She paid her rent the first day of the month, every month.

She snatched the letter off the door and read it quickly. "What do they mean 'check not received?' I have a fucking receipt." She yanked her phone off her hip and pushed the power button. It was past closing time for the front office. Of course. With the day she'd been having, why would the office still be open?

She would have to call in late tomorrow so she could meet the apartment manager nice and early with receipt in hand so she could clear up this matter. Something told her waiting until after work might mean she would come home to all her stuff on the front lawn.

"Rhea Valern?"

"What?" She barked the question before turning to see who had asked. She didn't care who it was. She'd had enough. No more bad news. If one more person did one more thing to her, she would lose her mind and kill everyone in a one-mile radius, so help her God.

Two men stood behind her. Both were the same height, which was several inches taller than her, and both had an imposing vibe. The man on the left wore mage robes that cloaked his body from his wide shoulders to the ground. His light brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, leaving his chiseled, clean-shaven features free to be gazed upon... and Rhea was gazing. If he was her reward for putting up with her crappy day, she gladly accepted.

The man next to the mage, who wore tight blue jeans and a half-open button-up shirt that showed his sculpted chest, was just as yummy-looking. His blond hair was cropped short and styled into a mussed-up do that looked too purposefully mussed to be anything but intentional. Light-colored stubble graced his cheeks and chin, giving him a rugged look that appealed to her. His shoulders weren't as broad as his friend's, but that didn't make him any less attractive. And then he smiled. His fangs ruined it for her.

A vampire. Not good.

Vampires didn't frequent human-populated areas, not since the docility charms had failed, and the freed vampires had fled back to their own territory after massacring their former masters. A vampire in the company of a mage had to mean bad news -- extremely bad news of which Rhea wanted no part.

The mage said, "Rhea Valern, we have come to --"

"Not interested. I've never bought a vampire before or even stepped into a store where they were sold. I'm not a mage potential. You've got the wrong girl. Go away." She turned back to her door with her key in hand to unlock her door and make a quick escape into her apartment. If the men persisted, she would call the cops. Human cops wouldn't be of much help, but there were a few mages who volunteered to handle situations like this.

"You don't understand."

"And I don't want to. Bye now." She pushed her door open, took one step and then screamed as the floor disappeared beneath her feet. Not just the floor -- the entire inside of her apartment was a void of black nothingness.

Strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her back, except the void started pulling her too. She screamed again. The darkness had hold of her purse and was climbing up it like a snake winding around a branch. She couldn't open her hand to drop the strap. The darkness touched her fingers and freezing pain ripped another scream from her lips.

The man holding her yelled, "Stop standing there like a dumbass and do something, mage. This is your people's shit."

"Shut up, vampire. I know my job." The mage mumbled words Rhea didn't catch. It sounded like an incantation. That was good, right? A spell would end this, right?

The void yanked her into the apartment by her arm, causing her vampire savior -- she hoped he was saving her -- to hug her waist tight as he leaned back.

"Strong fuckers. Any time, mage." He huffed against her neck and made grunting noises that said he was straining. A vampire straining? They could juggle small cars with no effort. If he was exerting that much force, Rhea's arm should have been ripped off in the tug-of-war.

Except for where the darkness touched her, she wasn't in pain. Her arm was stretched to the maximum, but it didn't hurt. A slow glow crept over her shoulder and dripped down her arm like water. It touched the darkness and the darkness... screamed? Could darkness scream?

Whatever. It didn't matter. The darkness was letting her go. Rhea jerked on her arm to hurry along the process. The glow surrounded her arm, pushing the darkness back until it released her completely.

She fell back with a yelp, landing on the vampire as they toppled to the ground.

The mage rushed by them and pulled the door shut. He chanted a few more words as he stepped back slowly. The door glowed, and white script in a language Rhea didn't recognize appeared below the peephole.

"There. I've sealed it until someone else can be summoned to close that portal properly." The mage turned to her. "Now may I tell you why we're here?"

Rhea nodded with a hard sigh. The motion pushed her breasts into the hands of the vampire. In all the confusion, she hadn't realized where he was holding her.

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Friday, January 25, 2013

AUDIT THIS! by Anne Kane

AUDIT THIS! by Anne Kane

When government tax auditor Nick finds himself obsessed with the work of erotic romance author Khloe Matters, there's only one thing to do. Audit her! But getting a closer look at the sexy author in her own home just makes him switch his obsession from the writing to the writer.

When he accompanies her to a writers' festival, things heat up in a hurry. Neither of them is being entirely honest, and as the weekend progresses so does the hilariously tangled webs of deceit as each of them seeks to further their own agenda.

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Audit This!
Anne Kane
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Anne Kane

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

"What do you mean you're disallowing ninety percent of the expenses I claimed?" Khloe tried not to scream at the smug smile on the auditor's face. Hard to believe her libido had jumped to attention when he'd first showed up at her door. Just went to show how bad a judge of character she was. "You can't do that. They are all legitimate business deductions."

"Really?" The man raised one of those perfect brows. "Care to explain how a trip to Spain qualifies as a business expense? You're a writer. You don't have to leave the house. You don't even have to get dressed."

Khloe gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath to calm herself down before she answered. She knew his name. Nicholas Carver. She just didn't think a government auditor deserved such an impressive name. Calling him a dumb-assed bean counter probably wouldn't help her situation, though.

"Although I have not claimed any clothing expenses, I assure you I do have to get dressed. My neighbours are a conservative bunch. I do have to leave the house occasionally, and I generally make a point of putting some clothes on before I do. That trip was for research." Well, duh, what else would it be? Maybe this guy got all the looks and none of the brains. "My last mystery novel was set in Madrid during the running of the bulls. I needed to be there to get the feel of the place and understand the atmosphere, how the crowd reacted. I wouldn't stay in business long if I didn't pay attention to the little details. Readers can smell a mistake a mile away, and if I lose their trust I'll be working at the grocery store for a fraction of what I make writing."

The auditor snorted. "Quite the drama queen, aren't you? I might accept the research excuse if the tone came through in your work, assuming we're talking about a published manuscript. Do you have a copy of that alleged book?"

The sceptical tone of his voice, not to mention his use of the word "alleged," set Khloe's teeth on edge. How dare he sit there in his perfectly pressed suit and make her justify every item on her tax return? Oh right. He was the almighty tax department auditor! Maybe it would help if she curtseyed or kissed his ring or something.

She smiled sweetly. "Of course." Turning, she ran her fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf. Plucking Bullfighter's Downfall out, she handed it to him. It took quite some effort to keep her smile from turning into a snarl. "I hope you enjoy it. It spent two months on the New York Times Best Sellers list."

He took the book, his brows rising at the cover picturing a couple in a passionate embrace against a backdrop of the famous bull run. Turning the book over, he read the back cover before looking up at her. "Romantic suspense? You're one of those kinds of authors?"

Okay, he might be the big-shot auditor, and he had the ability to make her life, not to mention her finances, a living hell, but he had no right to use that tone of voice when describing the genre she loved.

"Exactly what do you mean by that?" She straightened up to her full five feet five inches and glared down at him. "If you mean one of those authors who can take two characters, introduce them to each other and make them fall passionately and fervently in love while they dodge bullets, murder, mayhem and other nasty plot points, then yes. I'm one of these kinds of authors. And in case you don't believe me, you might want to ask the thousands of readers whose buying habits have put me on the New York Times Best Sellers list time and again."

"No need to get defensive. It's hardly War and Peace but I'm sure it's a very nice story."

It took all of her willpower not to grab the heaviest book on the shelf and smack him over the head with it. War and Peace indeed! "Have you ever tried to read War and Peace?" She took a step forward, gratified at his flinch. "My books are meant to entertain people and take them away from their everyday lives, not bore them to death."

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Well, no, I haven't actually read it. I'm more of a John Grisham fan. Lots of war but not much peace."

She felt the tension in her gut relaxing a bit. He wasn't quite the pretentious prig he looked like. Actually, if she took an honest look at him, he resembled the cover models for some of her steamier books.

And that gave her an idea.

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