Friday, August 17, 2012

WILD FLOWER by Megan Slayer

WILD FLOWER by Megan Slayer

Glow Band Book 5 - Glow Kids

She’s the key to his destiny, if he’s willing to embrace position of power.

Ansen doesn’t believe he’s alpha material. He lives live on his own terms and keeps feelings out of the equation - until a chance meeting at a Glow concert turns his world upside down.

Willow liked having all access to her favorite band.  She lives in the shadows and keeps the band's fan site running without fail.  One glimpse of the dark stranger proves there's more to life than a laptop screen.
But is he too much of a gamble if her heart is the ultimate prize?

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Wild Flower

Megan Slayer

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2012 Megan Slayer 

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.

"We're bringing down the house tonight."  

Willow Kanter bobbed her head to the cadence of Luc Moline's words. The Glow front man could read the yellow pages to her and she'd melt into a puddle of goo. She dragged her fingers through her hair and continued to sway. She should've been taking more photographs for the fan forum. Later. The forum could wait, especially when the rollicking songs from the latest Glow record were playing.  

As she danced, a scent wrapped around her. Willow crinkled her nose. Smells had never bothered her before. What was that aroma? She tipped her head. A combination of pine and cologne. She glanced over her shoulder. A man stood beside her, barely moving. Instead of the fear she expected, intrigue filled her mind. Everyone else who went to the Glow concerts danced. The music wrapped around the crowd and incited movement. Except him.  

Willow dragged her gaze from him and focused on the stage. The man's visage remained in her brain. The guy had muscles, the kind derived from physical labor. His hair appeared dark like his clothes, but who could tell in the kaleidoscope of lights? There was something feral about him, like he wavered on the edge of control. And dear God, he was tall.  

Her heart pounded and her pussy pulsed. Crazy. Men didn't get to her and certainly not that fast. Hell, most men didn't even make it onto her radar. After Chad, she hadn't cared about the opposite sex. Getting close to someone meant getting hurt. Getting hurt was too damned close to giving in to the past.  

"This is my favorite song."  

Willow jerked her attention from her thoughts to the person speaking. Mr. Handsome to her right stood much closer. The stage lights flickered in his eyes, and a hank of his inky hair slipped in front of his eyes.  

She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out.  

Mr. Handsome grinned. "Sorry. I don't like pick-up lines and didn't want to use one." He waved his hands. "No harm, no foul."  

The gravelly rumble of his voice shot down her spine. Part of her didn't want to reach out to him. The rest of her wanted to yank him close and taste him. When he turned away from her, she opted to take the chance.  

"Don't go."  

He stopped, but didn't turn around.  

"I like this song, too." Her heart hammered. She wiped her sweaty hands on the hem of her skirt. "Makes me want to slow dance." She pressed her lips together. Well, fuck. Didn't that sound like a come on?  

Instead of saying anything, Mr. Handsome grasped her hand. He tucked her into the curve of his chest and rubbed his cheek on the top of her head. The scent she'd noticed earlier grew stronger and comforted her. He towered over her and gave her an odd sense of calm. Stepping out of her comfort zone scared her, and yet he brought her out from behind her barriers. She swayed with him through the next four songs.  

Mr. Handsome stopped moving. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Luc's not singing about love."  

Willow giggled. "Yeah, he's moved on to the harder stuff." She lifted her phone and snapped a few photos of the band. "Since he locked things down with Taygan, he's mellowed and embraced more inventive riffs. It's pretty freaking cool."  

"You said it best. Want a drink?" Mr. Handsome spoke in her ear, sending shivers through her being. "I'm buying."  

"Coke in a bottle. Don't open it. Thanks." Willow followed his movements as he disappeared into the crowd. She'd check the bottle neck when he came back. Handsome didn't mean there wasn't a chance he'd do something hinky to her drink.  

The crowd moved around her and a woman crashed into her shoulder. "Excuse me," the woman snapped. Her eyes flashed a shade of yellow Willow had never seen before. The tone of her voice sounded more like a growl than anything. Not wanting to piss off the woman, Willow stepped out of the woman's way and took a breath to gather her thoughts. When Willow looked at the concertgoer again, the yellow wasn't in her eyes. Strange. The woman's lips curled into a sneer as she disappeared into the tumble of people.  

"You meet all kinds," Willow said to herself. When she looked for the woman, Mr. Handsome nodded and strolled toward her. Willow's nerve endings sizzled.  

"Your Coke." He offered her the bottle. "Ice cold."  

Willow glanced at the bottle neck. Perfectly intact. She twisted the cap, breaking the seal. "Thank you."  

"My pleasure." Mr. Handsome placed his hand on her hip. The action kept her close without venturing into the arena of being creepy.  

A tiny part of her screamed to be careful. She'd been down dangerous roads before. Willow measured her breathing and relaxed into the simple innocence of meeting someone at a concert. The music swelled around them and washed away some of her inhibitions. She loosened up and ground against him.  

Mr. Handsome didn't grab her, didn't push her. He moved with her and sang to her. The guy was like a dream come true. She turned in his arms and buried her face against his chest. The song blared around her in a pulsing rhythm, but nothing mattered except her and Mr. Handsome.  

He threaded his fingers into her hair and tipped her head. Willow clutched his shirt. What harm could come from a simple kiss? She rose up on her toes and met him for the kiss. The scrape of his five o'clock shadow abraded her cheeks. The cola on his tongue exploded in her mouth.  

The music dulled to nothing and the rush of the crowd disappeared. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. For a split second, a flash of yellow colored the blue of his irises. She broke the kiss and jerked backwards.  

Mr. Handsome released her. "Sorry. I got caught up in you, Wild Flower."

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Tuesday, August 14, 2012

CIMMERIAN CITY by Rae Lori

CIMMERIAN CITY by Rae Lori

Book One in the Cimmerian Duology

Today, corporations are the new aristocracy. A laundry list of side effects accompanies almost every new drug introduced on the market. What if these side effects changed us?

Imagine waking up in a futuristic world were corporations are the new aristocracy. The world has been divided into 2 hemispheres and 2 races: Humans and quick tough skinned vampire-like creatures that are children of the side effects of 20th century pharmaceutical experiments...Dracins.

Imagine dying as a human . . . and waking up as something else.

This is the life of Raven Blackheart, a formerly bored college student turned agent for the Tech Corporation, the largest corporate entity in the Western Hemisphere. Vice President Tyler Deamond, directs Raven as a go between and the last hope for the unification of Humans and Dracins. As deaths start occurring within the corporation headquarters, Raven notices someone is working their way up the food chain. Alliances are questioned as Deamond's intentions aren't quite as noble as they seem. A figure reemerges from Raven's past who may have all the answers to the disappearance of her father...

Cimmerian City is a futuristic sci-fi thriller where government has become big business, pharmaceuticals carry a veil of ghastly side effects and a third world war is brewing between the two races.

Relax...It's just the 21st century.

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~Excerpt~

Raven’s eyes shot open. She flinched from the blinding sunlight streaming through her bedroom window.
Morning. It was morning.

What happened last night?

After she left class and Jack behind, she took the bus to the art store…but somehow she didn’t remember making it there. Nor did she recall coming home.

Her head throbbed as she pushed herself upright. It felt like a thousand elves were pattering around in her head, banging to get out. Then the pitch-black darkness of her surroundings started coming back to her.

Duskiness surrounded her with only a smattering of light around the city to let her know how close the nearest town sat. She remembered hopping off the bus after it stopped. She remembered the kind-faced bus driver, an older man of Native American descent, who looked upon her for far too long, as if he knew her. However, she had never seen the man before in her life...or had she?

It was even one of those dreams where she could actually see herself from afar. Although she couldn't see her features too clearly, Raven still recognized the same long black hair framing her heart-shaped face and almond brown eyes that danced at the edge of black, along with her full pink lips and cinnamon-brown skin. She could see her parents in her eyes and face. Shades of both her father of the Blackfoot tribe heritage and her Egyptian mother echoed off her own features. She tried hard not to think of them but when she saw herself in the mirror and in dreams like this, it was difficult not to feel the hole in her heart from their deaths.

Images flashed and popped into her thoughts. The deserted train tracks that sat in the middle of the desert, the sound of an oncoming train, and heavy breathing. Then the weight of a body that pushed her to the ground and sliced at her arms.

Her arms suddenly began throbbing as if signaling her attention to the pain.

Raven ripped the sheet away from her arm and peered down. Amidst the dark brown of her skin, there was nothing. No sign of a scratch or any indentation to mark her. What was going on here? Was it all just a dream?

As the question popped in her mind, the shrill scream of the phone broke the quietness, distracting Raven from the vivid images of the all too real nightmare. She looked around the room to remind herself of her comforting surroundings. It was inviting, all right. The warm oak furniture that sat around her bed incited a memory of when she and Jack had picked the pieces up after she got her first home. They bought the nightstand stacked with art books at a garage sale from an older woman who was selling her daughter’s furniture after she got married and moved out. The desk, overfilled with both her and Jack’s art pieces, reminded her of the bargain they struck with the owner, shortly before it was to be tossed away and forgotten in the trash heap. Jack took pride in patching it up, sanding it off, and then applying a coat of finish to bring out the natural wood.

The house itself was a bargain, too. Raven couldn’t afford much on the meager salary she got when working spare jobs at the Navajo reservation but she jumped in with all her savings and part of her scholarship money to rent it.

Since then, Raven had fallen in love with the small home. Sometimes she would complain about the tiny space and imagined moving into a larger spread with multiple bedrooms and furnishings. After last night’s ordeal that may or may not have happened, her little house was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Her mother, father, aunt and uncle would be so proud... if they were still alive.

Slowly, she stretched out her shaky arms. They were smooth and unscratched. Perhaps it was a dream. Even she couldn’t have imagined that kind of pain.

Raven exhaled heavily.

At twenty-five, she was not ready for any signs of a heart attack nor was she prepared to be delusional. What seemed like a regular night had turned into something out of a nightmare. She had to get this out in the open or else she would surely end up going crazy with obsession.

She looked up and felt relief flow through her at the return of silence. The phone must have stopped ringing sometime ago while she was distracted. Suddenly, it started its incessant ringing again.

Part of her wanted to scream until it stopped. Instead, she exhaled. “Someone’s going to have to get that,” she muttered.

The phone stopped ringing midway as someone picked it up. “Hello?” The deep, muffled voice came from the kitchen.

Raven peeked into the hall. “Jack, is that you?”

Relief spread over her as she recalled the familiar face. Jack. Just the person she wanted to see. His warm smile, sparkling hazel eyes, and sturdy but thin build immediately calmed her. She would give anything to melt into his arms and lose herself in his embrace, his soft words, and his touch. They had been together for almost a year now, and he was the only person she could trust in the whole world. The only person that mattered to her since she had no family.

The faint chorus of the musical news theme erupted from the living room television set. She smiled to herself. That was Jack, practical, informative and always needing the news on when he came over to see her each morning.

“Blood clots and blood disorders affect more than five million people in the US alone. For a cleaner system, try Delanin, the leading non-prescription medication that targets blood cells for a cleaner flow through the entire body. Consult your doctor if any side effects or allergic reactions occur. Brought to you by Dridan. Making a better future, today.”

Raven idly rubbed her shoulders where the scratches would have been. “Cleaner blood flow?” She chuckled. “They’ll make a pill for anything these days.”

She shook her head and opened her mouth to call out to Jack. However, just at that very moment, he appeared in the doorway with her black cordless phone in his hand.

“What happened last night?” she asked. She didn’t realize how groggy she was until she heard the sound of her own raspy voice.

Jack laughed. “Good one, Hon. Just sit there and pretend as if you didn’t give me a heart attack when they found you.” He froze at the look on her face, and then his smile melted into a frown. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really don’t remember?”

Raven shook her head. “No, I really don’t. Tell me, Jack.”

He placed his hand over the receiver and walked toward her. “They found you unconscious in the desert,” he said softly. “They thought you may have suffered from heat stroke or something.”

“They?”

“Police officers. They brought you here this morning. Good thing you kept your address handy in your backpack like I suggested.”

“My backpack!” Raven leaned forward, remembering the tugging from the unseen hands. She could almost feel the jerking and hear the tearing as whatever it was behind her dug into the backpack material. Maybe there would be proof on her backpack of what attacked her. Pain spiked at the center of her forehead, jolting her backwards onto the bed.

“Easy… Easy,” Jack soothed. “Your backpack is fine. I put it in the living room in front of the television.”

“Jack,” Raven said, cradling her head. “Last night was warm, but nothing intense. Especially not hot enough to cause a heat stroke.”

Jack’s gaze flicked to the phone in his hand. “It’s Mr. Davies. He wants to talk to you about your absent days from work.”

“I don’t want to talk to him. Jack, you have to—”

Jack sighed before placing the phone up to his ear. “She’s a bit detained at the moment, Mr. Davies, but I’ll be sure to have her call you… All right… Bye.”

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Raven said.

Clicking the phone off, he laughed. “Talking like that I’m beginning to believe so. Look Rave, I’m just glad you’re okay and they found you when they did. Something could have happened to you while you were out there in the middle of nowhere. If I had just gone with you…” He stopped and looked down at his vise-like grip on the phone. His smooth, tanned hand quickly turned white. Slowly, with a sigh, he released it.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I really just needed a little time to myself. I thought it would be a quick trip.”
He didn’t say anything, as he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close in a tight embrace. Reaching down, he slipped his hand under her chin and pulled her into a soft kiss. His lips were warm and sweet, just what the doctor ordered. Raven felt him push the phone to the side and hold her gently as he kissed her deeply. Then she moved down to lie in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He smelled fresh, like a cool breeze and soft musk. She also spotted a hint of India ink and figured he had come over to work on his latest drawing again. Right then and there, she knew that smell would always remind her of Jack.

“Don’t do that to me again, Rave.” He whispered into her hair. “I couldn’t bear it if I lost you.”

She gave him a tight squeeze as the teapot whistled loudly from the kitchen. With a kiss on her forehead and a final one on her lips, he stood. “Now, you stay in bed and rest, okay? I’ll get you some tea and breakfast.” She watched him as he walked from the room.

Raven found herself missing his embrace as soon as he left. Although they had spent nearly all of their time together, were rather intimate and getting ever closer, Raven had never been ready to give her body to him. She had gladly let him into her heart, where he had been the only occupant since her family’s death, and since they often shared the same thoughts, it was easy to let him into her mind.

But her body…

Raven wrapped her arms around herself at the thought. She wanted it to be special. Many times, she had dreamed of the weight of his body pushing down against hers. The feel of his lips brushing through her lips before his mouth overtook hers. A sea of caresses would mesh their limbs together as one as they bound themselves to each other both in heart and body. Perhaps she had romanticized it a bit but the human connection she always felt was always lacking, except when she daydreamed. She had never grown up expecting to wait but as she distanced herself from everyone she met, it felt natural to close off from that kind of physical human contact. She would think about it, sometimes dream about how the first time would be. Deep in her heart, she knew Jack was going to be the man to journey there with her once the time was right. She was thankful he hadn’t pushed her into anything.

Raven swung her legs over the side of the bed as the sounds and smells of salty crispy bacon, fluffy eggs, and warm tea with a light toast on the side, wafted into the bedroom air. Jack always knew what she wanted.

Ignoring the rush of blood escaping her brain, Raven pushed to her feet and started toward the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled, and her tongue salivated with the anticipation of the feast ahead. The morning newscaster still twittered from the TV as she made her way across the hall.

“That better be a big tall, hairy monster coming toward me with an axe in hand because I distinctly remember telling Raven Blackheart to remain in bed while I brought her food.”

Raven chuckled. “What can I say? I’ll be hard-headed until the day I die.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, love. So marry me.”

Raven froze in her tracks. It sounded like Jack. It even looked like Jack. But she could have sworn it was a body snatcher who had just asked that question. Either that or she was completely losing her mind.

Jack finally turned to look over his shoulder at her. “No response? Color me surprised. I’ve never known you to go tight-lipped. ”

“I…” What was she supposed to say? “I didn’t think you were serious.”

Jack slipped a piece of bacon in his mouth and shrugged. “You’re right. I’m screwing this up already.” He walked to her and went down on his knees then took her hand.

"One knee..." Raven whispered, trying to bite back a smile.

Jack looked down. "Oh! Right." He quickly hopped up on one knee and then cleared his throat.

“Raven Blackheart. The first time I saw you in class, I knew I had to convince you that I wasn’t entirely crazy but that I really liked you and wanted to get to know you. We’ve been together through some hard times and I know I’ve been a pain. I know you’ve been a pain.”

She playfully shoved him, causing him to laugh.

Becoming serious, he continued, “I love you, Raven. Breaking through those walls you have put up hasn’t been easy, but I’m patient. I just want to be there for you and I want you to be my wife. I don’t have much, but I do have my word and my heart.” He looked down at the half-eaten bacon in his free hand and raised it. “And bacon.”

Raven couldn’t help giggling. “Food is the way to your heart, Jack. Not mine.”

“Yeah well, I don’t have a ring yet.” He wrapped the bacon strip around her finger. “Figured we could go shopping or something. Pick one out of a catalog or…”

She pulled his face into hers and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “You are insane, you know that? Only you would give me an engagement ring made of bacon.”

Jack snorted. “I wanted to leave an impression.”

“Oh you’ve already done that.” She leaned into his embrace. Misjudging his stance, she fell backward into his arms in a mass of giggles and limbs. The kitchen floor was cold and hard to the touch, but Raven didn’t care. This is what she missed and, even more so, this is what she needed after such a harrowing night.

Jack scooped her up into his arms. “So, is that a yes?”

She nestled the bacon strip around her fingers and held it up. “What do you think?”

He kissed her again and moaned softly when she deepened it. “Mmm, the food is going to get cold and if we stay down here any longer, I cannot be accountable for my actions.”

Jack stood and offered her a hand up. He then went back to preparing their breakfast.

“I really wish you had talked to Mr. Davies,” he said, scooping the eggs onto two plates.

Raven maneuvered her fingers to lift the bacon strip to her mouth. Mmm, not crispy but nice, warm and a little undercooked just like she liked. “He’s the last thing I’m worried about right now, Jack.”

“Already thinking about wedding plans, huh? We should have something small. I have some cash in my savings but I think we should hang onto it until after the wedding so we won’t be living in a cardboard box under an overpass or something.”

She shook her head as she settled into the chair at the small breakfast nook table. “I was thinking about last night. Heat stroke doesn’t attack my backpack, jump on my back, and scratch my arm.”

Jack froze when he reached the table. A wrinkle formed in the middle of his forehead. He grabbed her arm, turned it over and analyzed the skin. “I don’t see any scratches.”

“That’s what’s so crazy. I remember it distinctly. I even remember feeling it but there’s no sign of it.” She sighed. “I don’t think it was human.”

“What?”

Raven exhaled slowly. If he thought she was talking nutsy now, he would think she completely lost it when she voiced this next idea. “Whatever attacked me? It didn’t feel like a person. It felt like…a thing.” Before he could stop her and express any doubt, she continued. “I think something’s out there over those hills, Jack. I can’t be sure but I saw lights on the other side, like flashlights. And I heard voices. The train track that’s been deserted for years was still working and I think something is happening out there. Scratch that, I ‘m sure about it. I want to go back and check it out.”

“Raven.” The urgency in his voice told her he was ready to unload a series of logical reasoning that could explain everything she presented before him. She watched him grab the hand towel from his shoulder and toss it onto the marble counter. Then he frowned. “You’re serious about this…”

“Yeah, I am. If it hadn’t been for my backpack....” Her backpack! That was it! She remembered her previous thought. If she could find the scratch marks, she could try to figure out what kind of beast had attacked her. And then she could really prove she wasn’t imagining all this.

Raven jumped from her chair and swung around to head to the living room. Right away she spotted her backpack lying against the wall near the front door.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the dark green thread sewn along the sides of the pockets. Slowly, she ran her fingers over the thin thread to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. To anyone else, the thread would be invisible, but Raven knew her backpack. The thread was a slightly lighter shade than the rest of the backpack.

“Did you do this?” she asked softly.

“What?”

She thrust the backpack forward. “This, Jack. Did you sew this back up?”

Jack folded his arms. “Raven, you know it was like that already.”

She scoffed. “No, no it wasn’t. Look, the thread is new. I never sewed this up nor did I rip it. Jack, you have to believe me.”

“Shhh. Shh. Come on now.” He pulled her into his arms and held her.

What was going on? If she had been a conspiracy theorist, she would think someone was trying to cover something up. But why would they do such a thing to her? She was nobody, a student, who happened to take a wrong turn off the wrong bus track.

Raven’s grip loosened until she felt the backpack fall from her hands and onto the floor with a soft thud. She wrapped her arms around Jack, indulging in the feel of his muscled back and thin frame as he held onto her tightly.

“What’s going on with me, Jack? I feel like my mind is trying to tell me something but my brain refuses to show me. And I can’t shake this feeling. I just know something is wrong.”

“Listen,” Jack reached down and cradled her face in his hands, “come, and eat breakfast. We’ll sit and relax for a while, and then you can tell me what happened. Tell me whatever you remembered. After that, maybe we can take the same route there and trace your steps to see if we can find anything. Sound good?”

Raven nodded. Good old Jack. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“Why? Because I always cave to your demands when you bat those pretty eyes and give me that sexy pout?” He slipped his hands over her hips and gently nuzzled her neck.

Raven gave him another playful shove. “No, I’m serious. I could really use your support.”

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes sparkling again. He was as handsome as she had ever seen him. A thin face matched with wispy, short dark brown hair and a tan complexion made him look perfect in her eyes. Gently he reached up and caressed the side of her face. “You’ll always have my support, Babe. No matter what, we’re in this together.”

“Together.” She liked the sound of that. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him even tighter. Then a loud smack and the warm tingle on her rear nearly made her jump to the ceiling.
“Now, go eat your breakfast so we can get out of here. Granger’s class is in a few hours and I still need to finish this assignment.”

Raven started toward the kitchen with Jack behind her, grabbing for her again. She laughed and jumped, pretending to dodge his moves. It felt good to laugh and be silly again. After what she went through, it was a welcome distraction before the storm.

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EVAN'S VICTORY by Stacey Espino

EVAN'S VICTORY by Stacey Espino

Wolves of Climax 5

Cassidy isn’t looking forward to the female inspector taking over Gregor Mining for a week. She’s isolated in the cabin, her imagination running wild. When she shows up at the mine and finds her men avoiding her and downplaying their relationship, her jealousy spikes to new levels.

She’s ready to walk away from the men she loves, unwilling to be second best. Evan is the first to try and convince her to stay in Climax, yet he still won’t make a decision without Garret’s approval.

To win her back, the Gregor miners must pass Cassidy’s tests of devotion. It will take more than mind-numbing sex and tempting promises. But with a kidnapping in the works, the pack will have to act fast or lose their little human forever.

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~Excerpt~ 
“You’re nice and tight, baby doll. Even better than I imagined you’d feel wrapped around my cock.” Having a woman’s bare flesh, moist from lovemaking, pressed against his was something he savored. She smelled like a woman, sweet and feminine—both things he rarely got to enjoy around pack mates and working at the mine. He inhaled deeply at her neckline, tempted to sink his incisors into her flesh.
“What’s the matter?” she asked breathlessly. He’d stopped pumping into her, shocked by his own thoughts. How many females had he bedded over the years? Too many to count. But he’d never had the desire to mate, to mark one of them as his. It must have been due to the territorial threat Evan presented. He still stood to the side, a low growl rumbling from his chest.
“Nothing, darlin’. Do you need it harder? Faster?”
“Both.”
She hugged his shoulders, smoothing her small hands over his back. When she lifted her head off the mattress, seeking a kiss, he turned away. Kissing was an intimacy he avoided. He was sure it would kill him to offer himself in such a way. It was so much easier to just have sex for sex’s sake, no complications, no guilt, no emotion. Rather he sank his head to her neckline and began to fuck her good and hard, his forearms curved under her shoulders. The bed rocked and she cried out with each upthrust.
“Travis…” she cried.
“Bring her to a precipice so I can join in,” said Patrick.
He fucked Cassidy harder, suckling her earlobe and then tonguing her erogenous zone. She was peaking. He could feel her pussy spasm radically around his cock. “Get some bacon fat,” he managed to mutter, trying to keep himself from spending inside her just yet. He wanted this night to last. As difficult as it was to admit it, there was something different about his human girl. Something intangible.
When Patrick returned, he rolled them to their sides, holding one of her legs over his hip to make room for his friend. It would feel immeasurably better having another cock share her body. He could already imagine the squeeze and Cassidy’s cries as she climaxed harder than she ever had.
“Take her pussy from behind, Red. You need it.” He slipped out of her and assisted her to her hands and knees. Travis poked his head under her arm and sucked her swaying breasts as Patrick thrust his ready cock into her pussy, doggy-style. She screamed, a cry of ecstasy, unadulterated pleasure. He slipped away to avoid being crushed by their violent movements.
Evan couldn’t stay away. He climbed onto the head of the bed where Cassidy clenched the bedding in both fists to keep herself grounded as Patrick fucked her like a stallion from behind. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, spilling onto her pale back. Travis watched as the other man licked his finger and then brought it to her nether hole. He held her hip with his free hand and impaled her ass slowly. At first she jolted out of her lust-filled haze and tensed. But Patrick stilled, only pressing further in measured increments. Her breathing became more labored, and her hips swayed as if inviting him to continue.
“Help her out, Evan. Give her something to amuse herself with.”
Evan didn’t hesitate to tilt her chin up. Her wild eyes connected with his briefly, but shifted to the large cock poised near her face. “Will you?” he asked.
She licked her lips and then opened her mouth for him, her body jerking each time Patrick fucked her. Cassidy sucked half his length, supporting one hand on his thigh. Her eyes were closed as she lost herself in the act, engorging herself on Evan’s thick meat.
He kissed her back, admiring the feminine curve, grace, and beauty. Patrick had two fingers deep in her ass as he worked her cunt. She’d accepted the intrusion, no scent of fear lingering around her.
It was time. Travis lay on the bed, his erection waving freely as the bed jostled. Patrick pulled free, continuing to stoke his cock as he knelt on the bed. Evan cupped her head in both hands now that he had her to himself. She shifted her body until sitting on her knees, giving full attention to his cock, the thick length disappearing down her throat and reemerging, over and over.

Monday, August 13, 2012

WHERE THERE'S SMOKE by Karen Kelley

WHERE THERE'S SMOKE by Karen Kelley

When sexy wannabe-demon, Destiny Carter, is kicked out of Hell, she lands in Ft. Worth, Texas with one week to corrupt a soul. Or else. She slips into a slinky red dress, and heads straight for the delicious, corruptible looking cowboy at the bar.

But Chance Bellew has his own agenda-saving souls. He's not your typical angel. He’s a nephilim, to be exact. Centuries ago, angels came down from Heaven and mated with mortal women. When the women bore children, a new race was created. Immortals with powers—demigods, nephilim.

But the children don’t live by the same rules as mortals, or that of the typical, robe-wearing, bright light-surrounding-them angels. Hell, most of the time the nephilim are breaking the rules, and making up new ones as they go. As long as they don’t cross over to the dark side, everyone pretty much stays out of their way.

But sometimes a demon-in-training, who looks like Destiny, comes along and all Hell breaks loose.

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Chapter 1

Destiny Carter was six years old when she had the first inkling that her life wouldn't be a fairy tale. That was the day her mother left her in a grocery store and never came back. Destiny was right, her life went downhill from there. Bad foster homes, bad boyfriends, and really, really bad choices.

Then she died and went to Hell.

Until she was kicked out.

Destiny landed on the sidewalk with a hard thump.

"Son of a bitch!" She grimaced as she came to her feet, rubbing her hands over her tender backside. She was probably the first person ever to get kicked out of Hell. Temporarily, that is.
Hysterical laughter bubbled inside her, but she quickly tamped it down. She was not going to lose what little bit of sanity she had left. She would get through this like she did everything else, by gritting her teeth and doing what she had to do.

All is not lost. Just take a deep breath.

She inhaled.

Ugh! Her nose twitched as a god-awful stench filled her space. She glanced down the deserted street. Faded army-green painted letters on a shabby storefront window proclaimed it as Ft. Worth's finest resale shop.

Oh hell, she'd landed close to the stockyards in Ft. Worth, Texas, but this wasn't Billy Bob's. No, skid-row bars and vacant buildings lined both sides of the street.

Could her day get any worse?

Not that she had anything against Texas, except it was hot as hell. The dry heat was not helping her mood.

"I couldn't manage to steal one more soul?" she grumbled.

Okay, so she wasn't the best salesperson in the underworld. Why didn't that lawyer just sign on the dotted line? He insisted on reading the fine print and before she knew it, poof, he was gone. One more soul and she would've been a full-fledged demon with all the rights and privileges of that position-like drinking, gambling, and lots of sex.

"Sex," she breathed on a sigh as she slowly combed her fingers through her long, black hair. Naked, straining bodies. Hands touching, caressing. She bit her bottom lip and forced the vision to go far, far away before she grabbed the grungy-looking bum leaning against the vacant store front and had her way with him.

She grimaced. Maybe she wasn't that hard up. But Destiny did really miss sex. Everything about her life might have been lousy, but never the sex. And right now she was so horny she figured she'd start sprouting a pair any time, except people at the trainee level couldn't grow a set of horns to save their lives.

Now she was one step farther from her goal. The ones in charge were really pissed, but at least they had given her another chance, and new orders: corrupt someone and drag the unwitting person back to Hell. She had one week to do it or else. Why the fuck had they tacked on "or else"? What were they going to do? Send her to Hell?

Okay, shake it off. Getting kicked out was only a minor glitch. She could take a soul in less than a week. A moment of panic sent a shiver down her spine and her bravado drained away. Who was she kidding? Only dying souls caught between Heaven and Hell were sent to the sorting station. Her job was to convince them Hell was their best choice. She didn't have to search them out. Nothing ever went right for her in life. Why did she think being dead would change things?

No, she could do this. She would survive.

A flashing neon sign suddenly caught her attention when one of the bulbs popped and blew out. THE STOMPIN' GROUND. A bar. Her mouth watered. Demons-in-training weren't allowed to drink, or do much of anything on the job, and they were always on the job. One drink wouldn't hurt, and a bar would be a good place to start looking for a corruptible soul. In fact, it was her duty to go inside and check the place out.

A slow smile curved her lips as she slid her hands slowly over her body and the plain, butt-ugly, black wool uniform shift became a tight-fitting, low-cut, fuck-me red dress that shimmered with each slow, seductive step she took. Yeah, she was bad. Life made her that way. That's why she went straight to Hell. You never saw a good girl in Hell.

The bum's mouth dropped open. He looked at his wrinkled brown paper sack that obviously held a bottle of booze, then back at her. She grinned and winked. He tipped the bottle to his mouth, guzzling down more alcohol.

"See you in Hell," she muttered.

Destiny made her way to the bar, then pushed on the door, stepping inside the cool, dimly lit interior. As soon as her eyes adjusted, she glanced around. A haze of cigarette smoke formed a gray cloud above the patrons.

Slim pickings. Only a handful of people sat at tables.

Two worn out hookers were strategically positioned close to the door. Too easy. They already had Hell stamped on their foreheads. Destiny wanted to impress the powers that be. Used-up hookers would not make an impact on them.

A couple of men sat at another table deep in conversation about a stupid football game. Not bad looking. Wedding rings glinted on their fingers. Married. Too much trouble.

Hmm... But the demons might be impressed.

Before she could take a step toward them the bathroom door opened, spilling a patch of light into the bar. Two laughing women joined the men at their table. Scratch that idea. Two was company, four was a crowd.

There was a lively group of barely legal college boys chugging pitchers of beer. Hmm, certainly corruptible. From the way they were dressed, they were definitely slumming. One guy glanced her way, eyes practically bugging out.

Oh hell, was that drool? No thanks!

Someone put money in the jukebox and a slow country song began to play. For a moment, she let the deep voice of the singer wash over her. She didn't even mind that he was crooning about his cheating wife and losing himself in a bottle of whiskey. Damn, she missed being alive.

Her gaze languidly drifted around the rest of the room, past dark walls with posters of country singers plastered all over them. The bartender wiped a damp cloth across one end of the bar.
Destiny's eyes narrowed as she sized him up. The potential was there.

He raised his head, saw her, then smiled. The kind of smile that made her feel good all over. He wasn't bad looking, in a good-old-boy sort of way.

Destiny drew in a deep breath as she readied herself for a full assault, but at the last minute a movement at the other end of the bar caught her eye.

A lone cowboy sat on one of the stools nursing a beer, his back to her. He wore a black T-shirt that deliciously hugged his broad shoulders. Her gaze dropped. The jeans weren't bad, either.
Nope, not bad at all. The guy had a great ass from this angle. Sweet! Cowboy had just enough muscles that he created a fantasy, but not enough that she would be in competition with his ego.

He turned and looked her way, his gaze sliding sensuously over her body. Tingles of excitement tickled her spine. She had such a fondness for cowboys. They knew how to ride 'em long and hard, and she was all for long and hard.

She devoured him with one long lazy look. His black Stetson was pulled down low on his forehead as though he didn't give a damn about anyone or anything. It didn't help that, for some insane reason, black cowboy hats turned her on.

Oh baby, she was about to make his wet dreams come true. Yee-haw, ride 'em cowboy.
The bartender was forgotten as she locked on target. Destiny slid her hands over her hips nice and slow before sauntering toward him, putting just a little bit of swing in her hips.

This time she would be the one calling the shots. The one in charge. No one would ever control her again like they had when she was alive. She would take what she wanted and to hell with the rest! Literally.

The cowboy watched her every step of the way. She was already wrapping him around her little finger and the poor guy didn't have a clue. She stopped beside him.

"Buy a lady a beer?" she asked. Her words held enough invitation that only an idiot wouldn't guess she wanted more than a beer, and this guy didn't look like an idiot. She slid onto the stool next to his, propping her elbow on the scarred wooden surface of the bar.

Over the haze of smoke, over the smell of alcohol, Destiny caught another scent that weaved its way around her, making her lean in a little closer. It was spicy and held a promise of nights filled with down-and-dirty sex. She could feel the waves of heat radiating off him, curling around her body and wrapping her in a sensual cloud of sexual awareness.

"A beer for the lady," he drawled, breaking into her fantasy and nodding toward the bartender.
His voice sent tingles down her spine. It was just a little raspy-low and sexy.

Cowboy swiveled his stool around to face her and tipped the brim of his hat with one finger so she got a better look at his face: the strong jaw, the slight stubble, and the most intense blue eyes she'd ever encountered.

Destiny had her first mini orgasm, and it felt so fucking great! This guy looked good enough to eat. She was going to enjoy corrupting him.

"What's a cowboy like you doing in a bar all alone?" Okay, that sounded pretty cheesy, but she was a little out of practice; she'd died in 1959.

"Waiting for a woman like you," he replied and again his words caressed her as his blue-eyed gaze drifted lazily down her body before returning to her face. Her nipples tightened.

The bartender set a beer in front of her. Cowboy dropped a few bills on the counter and the bartender left.

She grinned as she took the bottle, her tongue sliding nice and slow around the rim before she brought it the rest of the way to her lips. She tilted the bottle a little and ice-cold liquid slid down her throat. Nice. She'd missed the taste of alcohol.

"So, what's your handle, cowboy?" she asked after she lowered the bottle.

"Chance. Chance Bellew."

"Well, you've just met your destiny." She grinned. "Destiny Carter."

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TEXAS HARD by Sara York

TEXAS HARD by Sara York

Texas Soul Series - Welcome to Texas where men are rough, hard and twisted!

Spurned by his heart’s desire, Riley’s aching for a fight, and he finds one with Connor, a sexy Texas lawman. Attraction fires between them, but Riley walks away, ignoring the lust between he and Connor...Until weeks later he’s caught trespassing on Connor’s new property--Naked.

Connor’s tempted to arrest the audacious naked man in his watering hole until he realizes it’s Riley. Lust muddles Connor’s logic and soon he finds himself on a path rife with temptations. Passion twists Connor inside out leading him to share one of his deepest secrets. Still Riley’s hiding something and the lack of mutual trust may end their relationship.

Then there’s the Lane factor. Riley’s ex leaves Connor feeling threatened. Riley swears it’s over, but something doesn’t sit right and Connor needs resolve. Coming to terms with their attraction means submitting to the fears haunting Connor and Riley before they can grasp the love that brought them together.

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~Excerpt~

Thick, black smoke bellowed over the rise, belching behind the trees like a dragon gone bad. Riley punched the accelerator as he crested the hill, then skidded around the curve. His senses were on high alert, his foot off the gas as the car finished out the turn. Passing the stand of trees, Riley slowed as he arrived on the scene. Two cars came into view—one rolled with flames leaping to the sky, the other in good condition. Riley took it all in as he pulled close and slammed to a stop. One man was on the ground, the other standing over him. Fuck, this looked bad.

He threw the car into park and popped the trunk to grab his doctor’s bag. When he’d first glimpsed the scene he’d thought the guy on his knees was rendering aid to the person on the ground, but now he saw the situation more clearly, heard the yelling plain as day. What the hell?

Riley went into ER mode, assessing the condition of the patient as he came around the front of his car. Burn victim on the ground. Body had to be fifty percent burned if not more, maybe sixty. Face a mess. Broken nose for sure. Breathing rapid and jagged. Some blood, no arterial flow. In downtown Houston the dude might live if the paramedics rushed, out here with the burns covering his body and his face—no way.

“Tell me, you bastard. Tell me where he is.” The guy hanging over the burn victim yelled. He wasn’t touching the man on the ground, but he was close to him, his face up close to the victim, yelling as if the guy on the ground wasn’t dying.

Raw anger flew through Riley. The injured man wasn’t answering, couldn’t answer because shock held him mute. The massive trauma from the burns covering his body shorted out the man’s brain, lack of oxygen shut down everything, including the victim’s ability to think. The guy’s lungs were probably fried.

“I’m a doctor, move out of the way,” Riley commanded, expecting to be obeyed immediately.

“Fuck you,” the stranger said and kept yelling at the victim on the ground.

“Hey, he needs medical attention.” Riley dropped to the dirt opposite the other guy, the heat from the fire scorched his backside, but he had no choice of where to work. The burn victim’s eyes were glassed over; the lights were on, but nobody was home. Soon the lights would be fading, and fast. His respiration rate was off the charts. Fuck, his lungs had been deep fried, Riley would bet money on it.

“Where is he?” The stranger yelled in the burn victim’s face.

Riley had had enough. He grasped the stranger by the shirtfront and yanked. They were nose-to-nose, fury boiled over the big black man’s face, his eyes blazed, and his mouth twisted in a sneer.

“You need to move so I can work. He will die if I can’t help him,” Riley said through gritted teeth, holding the worst of his anger back by sheer will.

“I don’t give a fuck if this piece of shit dies. He knows where Erick is.” The stranger ripped out of Riley’s grip and looked down at the burned body.

The sound coming from the victim was different, quieter. Riley glanced down and his heart squeezed. Fuck, the guy wouldn’t live for the next two minutes. There wasn’t much Riley could do. He had no oxygen tank and no IV bag. Plus, where would he stick the needle? The burn victim’s face had been crushed then crisped, his lips pulled back in a grimace. No way for Riley to get enough suction to perform CPR.

Riley pulled out his stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat. There was nothing. He sat back on his heals, depression winding through him. Helpless, his shoulders slumped. The guy across from him cursed and threw Riley an angry grimace. Riley scowled right back, his anger rising with each second.

“Why the fuck were you yelling at him?” Riley had to know. Normally he would have walked away, stood down and not gotten in the guy's face, but since this happened today of all days, he reacted badly, letting his anger build. Today sucked. Normally he wouldn’t be in this part of the county. He would be hanging out at home, working with his cows or maybe taking a dip in the pond. But seeing the familiar things made his heart ache for what he could never have.

The guy across from him stood stiffly, his jaw jutted out, his hands clenched at his sides. Riley didn’t like being on his knees with an angry man above him. It reminded him of a darker time in his past when he first started exploring his sexuality. He rose quickly, bracing himself for whatever this asshole threw at him. Since college he’d packed on fifty pounds of muscle. No fucking big bear would ever throw him around. He was the bear now.

“You, I ought to take you in,” the guy growled.

The stranger stepped around the victim on the ground. Now they were face-to-face, chest-to-chest. Same height and about the same weight, Riley judged. Rage ran through his veins. He could take this dude if he swung. Riley started plotting ways to give pain with minimal injury to himself. There were nerves, ligament attachments, and other places where the body proved weak and vulnerable. A good kick to the balls would drop this guy.

“You could have helped him more,” Riley yelled.

“He had the information,” the stranger roared.

“Maybe got out of his face. He was in shock.”

“Fucking bastard.”

They yelled at each other, words rolled off Riley’s tongue, anger, rage and lust pumped through his veins. Why he was getting off from this argument baffled him. It had to be the anger and lack of sex, and the other thing--the thing that had him strung tight, ready to fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. And the fucking hat had dropped.

Any other day he would have backed off, apologized for the implied insult, and said sorry for his anger, that he lost his patients, blahblahblah—but not today. Today, right now in fact, Lane and Gresh were exchanging vows in a commitment ceremony that would bind them together in front of family and friends. Of course the state wouldn’t recognize their union as legal, but they did. He had no chance with Lane now, if he ever had.

The fight was brewing and it would be good. Blood pumped as he stood toe-to-toe with the big dude. His cock twitched with lust. What he really wanted to do was grab the guy’s shirt and kiss him until they both dropped to the ground, stripped off each other’s clothes and Riley topped him, claiming him like he should be claiming Lane.

The wail of sirens didn’t stop their argument, which had gone from specific complaints about the other to a general array of insults, curses and other wise negative statements.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the stranger yelled in his face.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Riley yelled right back. The situation was getting bad. They were about to start bumping chests when the volunteer fire brigade rolled in. The stranger had his finger touching Riley’s shoulder, yelling something about impeding an investigation. Riley seethed and clenched his fist, ready to throw a punch when two of the volunteer firemen grabbed them both and pulled them away from the burning car. Riley ripped his arm out of the fireman’s grip and bent down to retrieve his bag. He rushed away from the fire and the water spray, getting soaked from the mist as he moved to the other side of the fire truck.

The stranger was there, and his eyes flashed with anger when he saw Riley. They were at an impasse and it would probably be best if he ignored the dude, got in his car and left. Riley let his gaze travel over the stranger, lust making him want things he had no business wanting. Then he saw it. The burned shirt—the raw patch of skin underneath. He stalked forward and grabbed the stranger’s arm. The guy tried to rip it from Riley’s grasp but Riley held firm.

“Stop, you’ve got a bad burn.”

The guy looked down as though he had no idea he’d been hurt. Riley pushed him down so he was sitting on a low chrome platform on the fire truck. The man appeared shocked. Riley held the stranger’s arm, examining the raw spot. The burn was small, only three inches in diameter, but didn’t look good.

The cloth had been charred away at the injury site but the shirtsleeve would keep irritating the raw skin. Riley pulled out the trauma shears from his bag. The stranger shied away as Riley reached for his arm.

“I’m just cutting the shirt off.”

“Don’t, it’s my favorite one.”

Riley shook his head. “The shirt has burn holes in it.” He snipped the shirt at the elbow then in a line to the guy’s wrist. He stored the scissors in his pocket and concentrated on the burn. This needed attention. Riley could help a little bit out here on the side of the road, but the guy needed to go into the ER to get cleaned up and take some antibiotics.

Now that they weren’t about to rip each other’s throats out Riley took time to study the man. It was one of the things he did while working, study his patients. He’d taken a few drawing classes in college and had a good eye. He appreciated beauty, and this big hulk of a man had beauty enough to share. Dark, like mocha latte, his lips were full, though a bit pale, but that was probably shock setting in. His nose had been broken at least once, but the bump only added to the man’s appeal. The square jaw had a slight dusting of whiskers, like he’d shaved yesterday but not today. The stranger glanced up, and their gazes connected. The slight glassiness indicated shock, but Riley also saw desire in those eyes. They stared at each other far longer than was necessary. The stranger relaxed, his lips parted before Riley broke the connection and focused on the burn.

“You need to get this taken care of. I’ll call an ambulance for you,” Riley said.

“No, no I’m fine.”

“You’re about to go into shock. You’re eyes are glassy, your lips pale.”

“Not going to do it,” the stranger argued.

“What’s your name?”

“Connor Ellison.”

“That’s good, Connor. So where are we?”

“Are you trying to be funny? I know exactly where we are.”

Riley wanted to keep the big guy talking, force him to think and use his mind. Focusing on the pain would be the worst thing for Connor. About three by two inches of skin looked badly burned. Riley was a bit surprised such a big guy was so affected by the small burn, but it could be deep too. Maybe he was in more pain than he was letting on. The man had been angry and his adrenaline elevated. Pumping a heavy dose of hormones through his veins would change the man’s reaction.

“Come on, we need to get you to a hospital.” Riley pulled Connor up, supporting him on his uninjured side.

“I can’t leave my car here.” Connor balked.

“I’ll get one of the firemen to drive it into town.”

“No.” Connor pulled out of Riley’s grasp and teetered, almost falling.

“Hey buddy, you’re about to go into shock. I can’t have you driving.”

Connor stepped close, his chest up against Riley’s, his lips next to Riley’s ear. Riley’s dick throbbed as lust washed over him.

“I have a full arsenal in the trunk. I can’t allow anyone else to drive my car.”

Riley took a step back, measuring the man and trying to figure out what type of trouble Connor was into. He was always attracted to the wrong guys. Lane, now this dude with the guns. What kind of freak drove around with an arsenal in his truck? Hell, this was Texas, but Connor might also be a psychopath.

“Don’t look at me that way. I’m a Ranger on assignment.”

Riley cocked his eyebrow and shrugged.

Connor blew out a sigh in exacerbation. “Texas Rangers, not the baseball team but law enforcement,” Connor said.

“Ah, okay. I’ll get one of the firemen drive my car to the hospital, and you get to be passenger in your car.”

Connor gritted his teeth, but his resolve wasn’t too strong. The guy was fading fast and would most likely hit the dirt the next time he had to stand on his own. Riley led Connor to the passenger side of his car and eased him into the backseat. Now that all the excitement was over Riley noticed the effects of shock progressing.

“Lie down,” Riley said.

Connor shook his head and refused to comply. “No.”

“Hey, listen.” Riley held Connor’s head so he was forced to look in his eyes. “I can’t have you going into shock, passing out and cutting off your airways. It’s either you lay down in the backseat of your car where you have all of your guns safe and secure, or I pull out your cuffs and restrain your for your own good and stuff you in an ambulance. Understand?”

Connor turned his head to the side as though he were trying to determine if Riley could physically subdue him. He must have thought so because Connor lay back on the bench seat without complaint. Riley closed the car door and grabbed the nearest fireman.

“I’m doctor Riley from over at Saint Joseph’s in Caldwell. I need to take this patient in, he’s about to go into shock. Could one of your guys drive my car to the hospital and leave the keys with the nurses' desk?”

“Sure, it will take a while, but I’ll send someone trustworthy.” The fireman took Riley’s keys and went back to pulling hose.

Riley got into Connor’s car and started the engine. “Here’s the deal. You get to talk to me the whole way there.”

“Why, you lonely?”

A pang of melancholy hit Riley. He pushed the sadness aside and focused on the medical needs of his patient. “I need to know that you haven’t passed out or worse, died.”

“It’s just a little burn.”

“It’s deep and like I said—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Shock.”


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Saturday, August 11, 2012

LETHAL BEAUTY by Sara Brookes

LETHAL BEAUTY by Sara Brookes

As a covert operative in Elatia’s elite military, Sway Waybourne is used to fending for herself. But a powerful uprising means she’s now responsible for guarding the leader of a neighboring planet.

Within seconds of meeting Dason Cavaletti, sparks fly and Sway realizes she’s gotten more than she bargained for.

Dason is curious about the arousal taking over his mind, body, and soul. When he can no longer stand the overwhelming desire, he confronts Sway. But the disturbing news she delivers isn’t at all what he expected.
Mating with the gorgeous woman could kill him….

WARNING: Sarcasm galore from a fiery heroine who can take care of herself thank-you-very-much. She won’t take anyone’s guff—even from the leader of the free universe no matter how handsome he is. A unique genetic quirk leads to inventive foreplay, one blazing hot hands-on session in the bathtub and a gender bending encounter that signals this ain’t your father’s Star Trek.
No redshirts were harmed while writing this novel.

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~Excerpt~

“This is…quite the situation.”

She blew out a breath as she slumped onto the far side of the mattress. “You can say that again.”

Sensing her frustration—which matched his own—he reached over and clamped his hand around her ankle. She didn’t fight as he dragged her across the bed and into his arms. “It’s not as if it’s the end of the world.”

“No. It’s just…I’m used to being able to handle any situation.”

“And you don’t know how to handle this.”

“Not really.”

“I’m sure we can come up with ideas. In fact, I’m thinking of one right now.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Way I understand, it’s the other way around.” Her laughter rang out in the room, shattering the tension. He pulled her closer, content and sated for the moment. “You’re a remarkable woman. Strong, determined, not to mention sexy as sin.”

She squirmed against him and he took it as a signal she wasn’t used to hearing such things said about her. Her reaction made him decide to shower her with attention while they were trapped together.

He was both amused and terrified by her reactions. Her extraordinary skill set was evident and he found her tenacity admirable. She possessed a vulnerability, though she clearly did her best to hide that aspect of her personality. By his guess, she thought it would show a weakness if she let others know about any flaw in her perfection. A good covert operative couldn't have any visible flaws. Otherwise, they weren’t very good at their job.

By the looks of things so far, she was very, very good at her job.

And for reasons he didn’t completely understand, he had begun to fall in love with her.


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Friday, August 10, 2012

FOUR BIKERS & A WITCH by Cheryl Dragon

FOUR BIKERS & A WITCH by Cheryl Dragon

Warrior's Craft Book Three

Valerie grew up in the Vegas biker culture, seeing the tempting and dark side. Now a nurse, she can't escape her past. Axle and Rebel Herth were kicked out of the biker gang as teens and, along with their boyfriends, run a motorcycle shop. They've wanted Val for years, but she won't date anyone in the biker world.

They need her witch talents to help them fight the zombies that are plaguing Vegas. Val's best with potions but the sex spell intrigues her. She learns the ropes of fighting zombies, and rides motorcycles like a pro as her potion brews, but can she let her sexual guard down with the guys?
Rough sex and dirty talk with four men who can easily overpower her is a huge turn on! How far will she go now that she's hooked on these bikers fighting for good?

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Four Bikers & A Witch
Cheryl Dragon
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Cheryl Dragon

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.

Valerie Berman parked her scarlet red Harley Super Glide behind Herth's Repair Shop. Grabbing her bag from the bitch seat, she once again tried to change her automatic thinking. So much of the biker culture put women second or third after their bike... yet she couldn't escape it.  Going in the back door, she found her parents in the inventory area. As usual, Dad was bleeding. Looking at him with his long gray hair and tattoos, he was an old biker and Mom, with her ink and tight clothes, a biker's old lady. Valerie rolled her eyes. She should be rebelling. Of course, with her parents, having a job and being responsible was a rebellion.  "Seriously, you need to retire from this crap." Val opened her bag and cleaned the cut on his arm.  "Val, your father was defending me. Some drunken ass grabbed my boobs." Mom smiled.  Shaking her head, Val pressed gauze to the wound so it'd stop bleeding. Mom loved the attention and it invited danger. Some of the bikers shared women. Female groupies were one thing, but wives? Some men didn't care. The wrong signals could cause a major fight. At least Dad had protected her. A girl growing up in a biker gang was vulnerable, but she'd made it out safely.  "Is this the only injury?" Val asked.  Dad nodded. "A few bruises, but yeah. My bike is messed up but the boys will fix it."  Axle Herth walked up from the direction of the repair room. "Everything okay?"  Val ignored the shot of attraction she felt whenever one of the Herth brothers came around. They'd grown up in the same gang until they were kicked out as teens. They hadn't gone far.  She shook her head. "He should get stitches."  "You do it." Mom waved it off.  "I'm a nurse, not a doctor." Working in the ER gave Val a sense of satisfaction and adrenaline rushes. She might've gone on for more education, but she didn't want that much in student loans.  "Just patch me up." Dad never minded an ugly scar.  Val dug through her bag of medical necessities. The bikers who knew her never went to the doctor. They only landed in the ER if they were scooped up by an ambulance, or Val couldn't patch them up. This was her unofficial office.  You never really left the biker world. Val would rather have them owe her favors than the other way around.  "Mom, hold these. Axle, I need you to help." Val could've done it herself. Still, it'd be cleaner with more hands. Plus the smell of grease and a hot man made the trip worth it. Axle pinched the skin tight as Val guided his rough hands. She added as many sterile strips as she could to hold the skin together. Then she covered the whole thing with a bandage. "I'll come by next week and change the strips. Don't get it wet."  "He's got to shower." Mom scrunched her nose.  "Put plastic over it, like a new tattoo." Val shrugged and closed her bag. "Don't drink either. If you need something for pain, take a pill."  "Got it." Dad's response to anything, which meant he understood. That didn't mean he'd actually listen.  "I'm serious. Take it easy too. How did you get cut and crash your bike defending Mom? Sounds like a bar fight." Val wasn't sure she wanted to know.  "Jousting," Axle said.  "Motorcycle jousting? Men." She tried not to stare at Axle's big muscles, teasing her from under the Herth's Repair Shop t-shirt. His black hair was cropped short, but those brown eyes of his had depth she'd always wanted to unlock.  She'd love to explore both of the Herth brothers. Rebel was only a year younger and looked very similar to Axle. However, his eyes were an icy blue. Now both had boyfriends who worked at the shop with them. If they weren't bikers and gay, she'd make a move. They'd been her adolescent crush. Liking bad boys had to be in her DNA.  Mom fussed over Dad, pressing her curves, stuffed into a leather skirt and halter top, to his side. At twenty-six, Val could wear that and look good, if a bit slutty. Sighing, Val knew her mom looked good for nearly fifty, except for the sun damaged skin. Dad still thought she was the hottest piece of ass on the planet.  "Men." Mom hugged her man. "No reason you don't have one, Valerie Trixie Berman. You've got my gorgeous red hair and curves. A little sun and those green eyes would pop."  "I just burn and freckle. I got Grandma's skin." She avoided Axle's eyes.  "Four hot men right here. They're not in a gang but they fix bikes. It's something." Mom gestured to Axle.  "Let's go. We'll get a loaner bike from Rebel." Dad steered Mom to the front. He knew why Axle was kicked out of the gang. A lot of things were kept secret, men from women and so on. Val had found out from the gang leader's wife only because Axle and Rebel had been getting some lessons from her as well.  Mom frowned at Val. "You couldn't dress nice, at least? You look like you're an old lady in that potato sack."  "They're scrubs, Mom. I came from work." They'd had that conversation more times than Val could count. Mom thought Val could wear short shorts and tight tank tops to work.  Once her parents were gone, Val turned to Axle. "I'm so sorry about them. They're nuts."  "Don't apologize. We deal with serious bikers all the time." Axle put a hand on her back.  Val shivered. She tried not to think about Axle naked. "Thanks for keeping them out of trouble. I should go home. Let you guys get back to business."  "Actually, would you hang out a while? We need a favor. We'll buy you dinner. We're ordering Chinese." Axle smiled.  "Okay, sure." Val shrugged.  Smoothing her hair as she walked into the repair shop, she looked at all four very attractive guys. Val knew this wasn't about motorcycles. Axle and Rebel were clearly brothers and sexy as hell. Sebastian was Axle's guy, seriously into vintage bikes. His lean build and dirty blond hair made him stand out. The quietest of the group, he just nodded to her with a big smile.  Luke was the opposite of Sebastian. Brown hair and piercing green eyes, he'd grown up in another biker gang. The guy had a huge ego and no shame. His look slanted to a bit more brutish than handsome. His confidence enhanced it.  "What do you want?" Rebel waved the menu.  "Orange chicken." Val sat on a stool next to Sebastian around an empty repair table. Rebel sent the order on his phone and nodded. "It'll be here soon. Sorry about your dad."  Val shrugged. "Idiots jousting on motorcycles. He's not a kid anymore."  "Well, we've got experience fighting on bikes. Sometimes it's necessary." Luke tossed a shirt and shorts on the table.  "What's that?" she asked.  "Just in case you want to change into something less clinical. The meeting could take a little time." Rebel nudged the clothes closer to Val. "If you don't like those, grab anything off the racks you want. The scrubs look hot."  "Vegas is hot. The scrubs keep blood and other fluids off me. The fun of being an ER nurse." She grabbed the clothes and went to the ladies room. The shirt was the right size, even though she would have grabbed a size bigger to hide her cleavage. The shorts were denim and made her feel terribly on display. Her long legs were a feature other women envied. Scrubs hid everything well.  Pulling her hair out of the clip that was part of her work wardrobe, she combed her fingers through it to cool off. The curls looped down to her mid-back. Glancing in the mirror, it looked like she was primping to get their attention. Mom would absolutely approve. Tugging her hair into a ponytail, she managed to clip it that way. She looked less severe but not flirty. Her boring old clogs would kill any sexy ideas.  Going back to the guys, she felt something more in their glances. Even out of her heavier clothes, she felt flushed. The smell of food drew her near. "That was super fast."  "You service bikers, you get good service." Rebel smiled and handed her the orange chicken.  "Egg roll?" Axle offered.  "Thanks. So what is all this about? More vampire problems?" She opened her chopsticks. Luke set a diet soda in front of her and Val smiled. It'd been a while since Vegas had had a paranormal invasion.  "No. Something new. These things we can't really handle on our own," Sebastian said.  Val had trouble believing that. Sebastian was good at the pagan stuff. Val, Axle and Rebel had been intrigued by the private classes in Wiccan religion the biker leader's wife had taught them as kids. Back then, they'd had no idea why she'd chosen them. Val kept in touch with her, and now understood it was that woman's way of rebelling. She embraced her feminine powers, and Val tried to follow that path.  Mom and Dad didn't need to know their daughter was a respected witch in the local Wiccan coven. The guys couldn't be seen there and keep their clients. She knew they'd found some online coven. They rarely included her because what they did was dangerous. When the vamps had moved into Vegas, the guys had gone on the attack. They hadn't needed her then. Was this a set up?  "So what can't you guys handle?" she asked.

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