Tuesday, December 12, 2017

NAUGHTY BEASTS - Available Now!

NAUGHTY BEASTS: EIGHTEEN FABULOUS FANTASIES
Available Now!


Contains 18 Sci-Fi, Fantasy & Steampunk Stories from bestselling authors writing as The Naughty Literati


Find it here:


Blurbs:

BUY ME A ROSE
Francesca Hawley
Jessica and Nathaniel Whitewolf celebrate their thirtieth anniversary as True Mates, but they’ve lost their bond. Now a hot couples’ retreat will get it back.

HOW TO BLACKMAIL A VAMPIRE (BLOOD MATES 1)
Belle Scarlett
In the spring, a vampire’s fancy turns to the blood lust mating hunt. A pretty, human blackmailer becomes the object of his thirst, but she’s not into vampires. Yet.

HYBRID MATES: MERRY CHRISTMAS, KITTEN
Nicole Austin
Sirena Petra wants one thing for Christmas—an orgasm. And sex toy expert Kenyon Fort has exactly what the lion shifter needs to find more than just her happy place.

VIKING IN TARTAN
Suz deMello
Medieval romance from the Highland Vampires series. A Viking raider brings change to little Clan Kilbirnie, especially to the chieftain’s daughter, Rhona.

HYBRID MATES: MY VALENTINE LOVERS
Nicole Austin
All I want for Valentine’s Day is to get barbed by a feline shifter and act out a few of the naughty twin fantasies getting me hot and bothered.

PERFECTLY PRESENTED
Berengaria Brown
Blake sees Xavier agonizing over unclaimed gift tags for poor children on the holiday tree. Will Blake tell Xavier about his past and his problem?

HYBRID MATES: MY KIND OF LOVER
Nicole Austin
Badass biker girl, accountant, lioness shifter—I’m all that and more. And this hybrid wolf thinks he can take me on? Bring it, you sexy beast! I’ve got this.

SOPHIE’S CHRISTMAS GARGOYLE
Katherine Kingston
When Sophie helps rescue a battered woman, she gets more than one surprise from the woman’s other self-appointed protector.

HYBRID MATES: SEX ME UP
Nicole Austin
One night at a Paris sex club—no strings, complications, or inhibitions—just lots of fantasy sex. But in the morning I forgot the most important rule. Never run from a feline predator—they live for the chase.

IMMORTAL HUNTERS
Suz deMello
Vampire Rama avoids attention by working nights as a private investigator. No one cares if some bad guys disappear on her shift. Then Detective John van Helsing shows up. Bearing the name of the vamps’ greatest foe, he interferes in her case and in her life. Friend, lover, or enemy?

THE BERMUDA LOVE TRIANGLE
(PACK MASTERS 1)
Belle Scarlett
Castaway in the Bermuda Triangle, Trista finds herself torn between two sexy shifters. Neither will share her so she must choose between them. Decision, decisions…

OCEAN DREAMS
Suz deMello
Marine biologist Sandi has never forgotten Blue, the baby dolphin with whom she bonded. Reunited with him years later, she discovers he’s a shapeshifter in the sexiest possible way.

HER GARGOYLE GUARDIAN
Katherine Kingston
Ginny decides to pursue a relationship with Ben despite the risks to her heart. She can cope with his claim that he’s a shape-shifting gargoyle, but his warning that they will have only a short time together gives her pause.

NO GENTLEMAN
Francesca Hawley
Librarian Abby Kelly comes west finding a roguish shapeshifter who desires her. Will Goldwolf is no gentleman, but Abby discovers he’s just what she wants.

WERE THE HELL?
Berengaria Brown
Septimus has to learn why no female weres have been born into his pack. When he walks into the meeting room he smells his mate. A male.

*These titles have been previously published in earlier Naughty Literati boxed-sets.*


Naughty Beasts Contest

To celebrate the release of NAUGHTY BEASTS, the Naughty Literati are giving away a 7" Kindle Fire loaded with books by our fabulous authors including:

The Naughty Literati’s complete boxed-set collection
Abducted by Lynn LaFleur
Alpha vs Alpha by Francesca Hawley
Charming the Masters by Katherine Kingston
Chocolate Coated Reunion by Berengaria Brown
Desire in Tartan by Suz deMello
Double Down: The Complete Duo by Nicole Austin
First Comes Desire by Tina Donahue
Not Too Tall To Love by Berengaria Brown
The Pleasure Device by Regina Kammer
The Woodsman by Belle Scarlett (Audible audiobook)
  
There are many ways to enter, including a daily bonus entry, so come back every day to increase your chances of winning. Good luck and happy reading!

Contest begins December 12th.


Monday, December 11, 2017

Excerpt from Were the Hell? by Berengaria Brown

Part of the Naughty Beasts: Shifters, Vamps & Gargoyles, Oh My! anthology - Pre-order Now!

Contains 15 Shapeshifter, Vampire & Gargoyle Stories from bestselling authors writing as The Naughty Literati

Find it here:


Blurb:
Septimus has to learn why no female weres have been born into his pack. When he walks into the meeting room he smells his mate. A male.

Copyright © Berengaria Brown, 2017

Septimus had sometimes wondered if he’d only ever been sexually attracted to other males because there were so few younger females in his pack, and the few there were didn’t light his fire. But the minute he walked into the meeting room with the weres from the Forest Hill pack, he knew he was genuinely, one hundred percent gay. He could smell his mate.

His cock stood up and fought to get out of his jeans, stretching the fabric so tight that he was going to have blue balls for a week. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck were also standing straight up. His skin tingled, electrified with sexual arousal. And the scent of his mate was overpowering him, dragging him into the room with almost physical force.

His nose led him unerringly to his mate—a tall, lean man of about thirty, with tanned brown skin, dark brown hair, and liquid chocolate eyes. Those eyes were staring at him, and the man’s strong nose was flared, smelling his scent. From the huge bulge in his pale cargo pants, the man was every bit as aware of him as he was of Mr. Tall, Tan, and Delectable.

As Septimus walked across the room, his cock leading the way, the man moved to meet him. Their gazes were locked, and Septimus was totally oblivious to everyone else in the room and the task he’d been sent to do. He was about to put out his hand when the other man reached him and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in for a hard, body-blending hug.

“I’m Dai. We’re mates.” The words were harsh, bitten off, said almost as a challenge.

“Septimus. I know.”

The Alpha of the Forest Hill pack stood just a few feet away. He coughed, cleared his throat, then said, “Gentlemen, let’s get this meeting underway. Dai, you should sit next to Septimus, not in your usual place.”

So even the Alpha smelled their attraction. That certainly proved he was not being misled by his cock.

Sunday, December 10, 2017

Excerpt from No Gentleman by Francesca Hawley

Part of the Naughty Beasts: Shifters, Vamps & Gargoyles, Oh My! anthology - Pre-order Now!

Contains 15 Shapeshifter, Vampire & Gargoyle Stories from bestselling authors writing as The Naughty Literati

Find it here:


Blurb:
Librarian Abby Kelly comes west finding a roguish shapeshifter who desires her. Will Goldwolf is no gentleman, but Abby discovers he’s just what she wants.

Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2017

Chapter One

Whitewolf, Colorado, December 1905

“All the books have been shelved, Mrs. Kelly.” Lizzy Redwolf pinned on her hat. “With it being Friday night, you’d best be leaving shortly. You know how those men at the saloon can get.”

“Yes, I certainly do, Mrs. Redwolf.”

Abigail Kelly straightened her shoulders as she finished cataloging the newest books for the library. It wouldn’t be long until the noise of her nearest neighbors took over the night and brawls would spill out the doors and into the streets. So far she’d managed to avoid all of it.

All of it but the saloon owner himself. William Goldwolf made his disapproval of the new town library—and by extension, the new librarian—perfectly clear. The kindest thing he’d said was that the library was a waste of taxpayer’s money. Abigail fought her habitual scowl when thinking about that man. Unfortunately, she found herself thinking about him far too often.

“Well, now. I’m off to feed my husband and young’uns.”

“I’ll walk you out and lock up.” Abigail stood and took her keys off the ring at her waist. “Did you lock the back entrance?”

Lizzy stuttered to a halt and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh no. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Abigail smiled and patted her shoulder. “I’ll get the door after I lock up the front. This is where all the rough types are, after all.”

“Right you are, and it’s early yet,” the other woman laughed, “Now, in an hour…”

“Just so.”

“Night, Ma’am.” Lizzy opened the door and headed out into the late afternoon sunlight.

“Good Evening.”

Abigail carefully adjusted the evergreen wreath hanging there, locked the door and tested it. The last thing she wanted was some hooligan coming in and spilling beer or worse, on her fine marble floors. She went directly to the rear entrance of the library and locked that door as well.

She’d leave by the back when she’d finished her business. The further she was from the saloon, the happier she’d be. Drunken men brought back unpleasant memories of her late husband. Drunk or sober he'd been charming, but when he was drunk he gambled and when he gambled, he lost. She hated having her hard earned wages lost to the turn of a card or the roll of the dice. In spite of it all, she missed him and she missed their loving even more. Just the thought of a man's strong arms around her caused her breath to catch and her body to tremble.

Abigail sighed, then set about tending the fireplaces, putting out fires and laying a new one for the morning. It was growing colder, and it had snowed that morning. She was used to snow, but not quite so much as fell in the mountains of Colorado. Christmas was less than a week away and the countryside looked like a painting. Peaceful. Beautiful. It would be her first all alone. She was pleased she’d accepted this position, but she wished for some friends to share her time.

She returned to the main desk and began to put away her work for the day. The cards she’d created for the card catalog would need to be filed in the morning and the new books shelved. So many things to do.

A battered snow-dusted hat landed on her desk and she jumped with a shriek. Her gaze flew upward. Straight into the ice blue eyes of William Goldwolf. She couldn’t contain her growl of exasperation.

“How did you get in?”

He dangled a key in front of her.

“I see. Well, good evening, Mr. Goldwolf. What brings you into this useless house of worship for slow minds?”

He chuckled as she quoted him verbatim from the last library board meeting. She still couldn’t understand why he’d been asked to be a member of the board. He didn’t support their mission to educate the citizenry. She'd yet to meet a more quarrelsome man and she utterly refused to acknowledge the thrill that went through her whenever they were in the same room.

A smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he sat down on her desk, knowing how she hated it. Abigail bit the inside of her cheek to keep from chasing him off her desk, aflutter like an angry wet hen. An epithet he’d used to describe her on more than one occasion. She clutched the back of her chair, hoping to keep her temper…this time.

“Maybe I want to check out a book, Mrs. Kelly.” She raised her brows but kept her mouth closed. Abigail could do without further provocation this evening. “Isn’t it your job to help me find somethin’, what did you call it? Ah yeah, improving to the mind,” He chuckled as he quoted her, eastern accent and all.

She clutched the chair harder because she refused to get into an argument with this man today. “I can recommend a number of possibilities. Perhaps the Bible might be fitting.”

“Improving to the mind, sure enough, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun?” Abigail's mouth fall open.

“Yeah, shouldn’t readin’ be fun?” He leaned over, set a single finger under her chin and pressed. She closed her open mouth and pulled her head away from his touch. Exasperating man! She would absolutely ignore that his touch had set her heart fluttering in a way she’d forgotten she could feel.

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Excerpt from Her Gargoyle Guardian by Katherine Kingston


Part of the Naughty Beasts: Shifters, Vamps & Gargoyles, Oh My! anthology - Pre-order Now!

Contains 15 Shapeshifter, Vampire & Gargoyle Stories from bestselling authors writing as The Naughty Literati

Find it here:


Blurb:
Ginny decides to pursue a relationship with Ben despite the risks to her heart. She can cope with his claim that he’s a shape-shifting gargoyle, but his warning that they will have only a short time together, gives her pause.


Copyright © Katherine Kingston, 2017

The part of Washington, D.C. where Ginny lived, in the shadow of the national cathedral, got quieter at night, but never completely silent. Traffic sounds, a constant buzz, mixed with the occasional distant roar of an airplane or clatter of a train to form a white noise backdrop to her quick walk from the bus stop to the apartment she rented in an older house. Getting home late in the evening was one of the downsides of her second-shift job at the hospital. Once she could afford a car, it wouldn’t be a problem, but she still had student loans to pay off.

Moments after she got off the bus, the other sound was there as well. For the past several weeks, she’d been noticing an odd noise as she headed for home. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear it was the sound of wings flapping. Whenever she turned to look, though, she didn’t see anything or anyone there. It added to her uneasiness on the walk.

When trouble did come that night in late fall, though, it hit her from a different direction entirely. As she turned a corner, an older man in a ragged trench coat reached forward from the wall he leaned against and snagged a hand around the strap of her shoulder bag, yanking it toward him. Ginny wrapped her wrist around the strap and wrestled him for it. At the same time she fought her reaction to the miasma of fumes surrounding the purse snatcher, a ghastly mix of alcohol breath and unwashed body. Nothing she hadn’t smelled before at the hospital, but at least there she could don a mask.

The guy was surprisingly strong and she was losing the tug-of-war for her purse when a new party entered the fray. A tall dark figure did a karate-type chop on the purse-snatcher’s arm causing him to howl and let go of the strap. Ginny rocked backward but found her balance.

“Never again,” the newcomer growled in a deep, gravelly voice that didn’t need much enhancement to sound menacing. “Never again attack a woman. Or anyone. No stealing.” Ginny shivered, though the words weren’t directed at her.

“I won’t,” the purse-snatcher stammered. “Promise I won’t. Think my arm’s broken.” He cradled it against his body.

Ginny sighed and approached him, steeling herself against the smell. “Don’t touch my bag again. Let me feel your arm. I’m a nurse.”

Trembling, he held it out to her. She ran her fingers over a very thin arm from wrist to elbow and stopped when he cried out in pain. She pulled her cell phone from the bag and called 9-1-1, explained that she’d found an older man on the sidewalk who seemed to have a broken arm. They promised to send an ambulance.

“I’ll wait here with you,” she told the old man. Her rescuer, a very tall figure wearing a dark, enveloping cloak and a ball cap with a long bill pulled down low over his face to hide his features, hadn’t said another word, but he stayed close by.

To pass the time and distract the man from his pain, she asked, “Why did you try to take my bag?”

He took a long time to answer. “Need money. Hungry. And thirsty. Know it’s wrong, but the urge just took me.”

“And now you have a broken arm as a result. There are easier ways.”

Ginny sighed and fumbled in her bag. She took out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the man as a siren wailed in the distance. “After they treat you get some food.” The screech grew rapidly closer, until the ambulance stopped beside them and the medics jumped out. After some checking of vital signs and condition, they put a splint on the arm and loaded the man into their truck to take to the hospital.

Her rescuer had hung back in the shadows while the medics were there, but once they departed he came to her again.

“You took care of him and gave him money even though he tried to rob you. Why?” he asked bluntly.

“He’s a poor, sick old man. It was wrong to try to steal, but he’s paying a stiff price for it. I feel sorry for him.”

The stranger made no reply to that directly, but moved with her when she turned toward home. “I’ll stay with you until you get to your house.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” His cloak flapped in the gentle breeze. “It’s been you. I’ve thought someone has been following me from the bus stop to the house for the last few weeks. Who are you? Why are you doing that?”

“It’s what I do.”

“Guard people? Not just me?”

“Not just you. But you...” He hesitated. “You interest me the most.”

Friday, December 8, 2017

Excerpt From Ocean Dreams by Suz deMello

Part of the Naughty Beasts: Shifters, Vamps & Gargoyles, Oh My! anthology - Pre-order Now!

Contains 15 Shapeshifter, Vampire & Gargoyle Stories from bestselling authors writing as The Naughty Literati

Find it here:


Blurb:
Marine biologist Sandi has never forgotten Blue, the baby dolphin with whom she bonded. Reunited with him years later, she discovers he’s a shapeshifter in the sexiest possible way.

Copyright © Suz deMello, 2017

...the first encounter between a dolphin shifter and his human mate.

*****

She framed his face in her hands, thinking, I’m insane, but kissed him anyway.

He kissed back, a little hesitantly, and she thought, He’s never done this before. At least, not with a human. She was both scared and excited. She didn’t want to rush him, so she opened her lips just a tiny fraction.

He followed, and after their lips had melded and played, she opened a little more and allowed her tongue to gently touch his mouth. When he seemed accepting, she used the tip to tickle the sensitive inner lining of his lips.

He gasped and bucked against her, his substantial erection thrusting against her mound. She slid her hands down his back, finding a small hard lump near the spine. She wondered what it was, but chose to ignore it, instead dropping her hands to his hips. She pressed him against her more firmly while continuing to introduce him to deep kissing.

He moaned into her mouth and tangled one hand in her hair. The other stroked her face, then slipped downward, caressing her throat with respectful fingertips before palming her breast.

 He’s never touched a human breast before me. He took his time, which wasn’t surprising, molding and cupping before he tugged up her pullover and found her bra. He explored it, the lace scratchy against her sensitized skin, then drew it aside to find her nipple.

 Or a nipple.

Human nipples weren’t much like dolphin nips and he seemed quite interested, lingering long, circling the nipple. The flesh hardened, and an “oh” escaped his lips.

Intoxicating, the combined sensations—the kissing, the breast play and his cock against her mound. She was swelling along with him, dampening, ready. Very ready.

Thursday, December 7, 2017

Excerpt from The Bermuda Love Triangle by Belle Scarlett

Part of the Naughty Beasts: Shifters, Vamps & Gargoyles, Oh My! anthology - Pre-order Now!

Contains 15 Shapeshifter, Vampire & Gargoyle Stories from bestselling authors writing as The Naughty Literati

Find it here:


Blurb:
Castaway in the Bermuda Triangle, Trista finds herself torn between two sexy shifters. Neither will share her so she must choose between them. Decisions, decisions…

Copyright © Belle Scarlett, 2017

“MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY. Miami Tower this is Whiskey Tango Foxtrot 3, a Cessna 152 with total engine failure attempting emergency water landing. Repeat, we are going to ditch. Last known position nine hundred and thirty-two miles northeast of Miami from Bermuda. Latitude 25.48North, 80.18West. Fifteen hundred feet heading two hundred degrees…no, wait. My magnetic compass just went tits up. It’s spinning like a top. Last stated known position is…incorrect. We are off course and broadcasting in the blind. Do you read, Tower? Repeat, do you read? My altimeter is going haywire. I’ve lost all navigational systems. I’m losing airspeed. Tower, please advise…”

Trista stared in shock at the back of the pilot’s head of thick brown hair. His rugged frame filled the small cockpit directly in front of her. As he barked terse intel into his headset mic, the small aircraft jolted and lurched through the choppy air over the Atlantic. Meanwhile, her heart felt like it was pounding somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.

Her fingers dug into her passenger seat armrests. She automatically looked for reassurance at the dark-haired, broad-shouldered man folded into the spare passenger seat to her right, also sandwiched behind the cockpit. As if feeling her panicked gaze upon his skin, his sharp, dark-green eyes swerved to hers in silent reply.

This was bad. Shitty bad. And they both knew it.

“Well, I suppose they don’t call it ‘The Devil’s Triangle’ for nothing,” she quipped weakly. Neither man in the small plane laughed.

Up front, the pilot’s deep, resonant voice tenaciously repeated the distress call on his headset, apparently still getting no reply from Miami. “MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY. Miami Tower this is Whiskey Tango Foxtrot 3…”

The small plane’s nose dipped sharply. Then came a giant bang. The passenger-side door popped open followed by turbulent air rushing in with the force of a giant’s warm breath.

Trista’s stomach lurched at the turbulence. Had her seatbelt not been clipped snugly across her lap, she no doubt would have been tossed to the low ceiling of the small plane like a piece of hollow straw and sucked right out of that open door to free fall a couple of thousand feet into the sea.

The pilot struggled expertly with the plane’s yoke to control the craft’s wild descent.

“All things considered, I have to say this has been one hell of a vacation I’ll never forget,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Outside the small circle of glass to her left, the vast, dark-blue Atlantic was getting far too big in her window.

“Don’t look. Hold on to me,” the other passenger by her side commanded over the din of rushing air. She loved his voice—strong as oak and calm as a summer night. She clung to it like a beacon in a maelstrom.

“Whatever happens, don’t let go of me. Do you hear?” His firm, confident tone acted like smooth, aged whiskey to dull her jumpy nerves. She nodded dumbly and found her hand engulfed in the warm grip of the large man seated next to her. Her fingers curled trustingly around his. If he said everything would be okay, it would be.

They were falling into the sea with alarming speed now. Yet his touch had the ability to make her feel as safe as if she were in a peaceful meadow.

The plane rattled uncontrollably as it glided just above the waves. She squeezed her eyes shut.

The Cessna skipped off the ocean’s surface. And broke apart.

*****

She sank into the liquid darkness that enveloped her. A sudden reverse current of warm seawater sucked her away from strong, grasping hands that had somehow held her fast during the final moments of the crash. Those capable fingers had managed to unbuckle her seatbelt as the ocean rushed into the open passenger door, filling the small craft’s submerged passenger compartment and cockpit with seawater and a plethora of furious bubbles.

Now she was free of the plane, drifting under the ocean surface. It was like bathwater, really. She was quite content—relaxed even. Except that her head throbbed. And she couldn’t open her eyes. Where was she? What had happened? All of a sudden, answers to those questions were cloudy.

There was a more immediate problem. Her burning lungs were now trying to breathe in saltwater. That wasn’t exactly going well.

She felt a relentless grip on her arm. Someone pulled her upward, toward the surface. The air hit her face. A sharp blow landed between her shoulder blades. She choked and sputtered, the seawater spewing from her lungs and out of her mouth. All at once she could breathe again, but still her eyes did not open.

She was spent, draped limply against a muscled torso, her nose and lips buried in the curve of his neck. The sensation of bobbing buoyantly in the swells assailed her as he treaded water for them both with powerful sweeps of his legs. By now, she’d know his touch in the dark. But who was he? It seemed important that she remember that detail.

“Do you have her?” he shouted from somewhere over the waves.

“Over here,” the same male voice growled a reply somewhere in the vicinity of her right ear.

Her mind slipped into blankness after that. She didn’t know for how long.

Then the two voices that were one and the same echoed again in her ears from opposite directions mingled with the sloshing of waves. The words were fuzzy and made little impression on her, except that the voice in her ear and the one a short distance away sounded like the same man. How strange that he should be talking to himself. Whoever he was.

“I’ve got it inflated…”

“…her into the raft. Hurry.”

“I’m trying, Thane. Damn it…”

“Hold her steady, this is…”

“…damn the sharks.”

“…careful with her, Alec!”

She yearned to open her eyes. She wanted to see the owner of that intoxicating whiskey voice and thank him. But her eyelids felt like lead. If she tried to force them open she just knew the pain in her head would split her skull in two.

She felt a firm but gentle touch all over her body, checking her limbs and the sensitive area at the top of her ribcage, just underneath her breasts. Even in her slumbering state that light, probing touch created a primal sense of warmth and well-being deep within her.

“No broken bones.”

Her mind tried to focus on his soothing, deep tones as an anchor to keep her floating near the surface of consciousness. It was no use. She drifted down again, in and out of partial consciousness, only overhearing occasional snippets of urgently spoken words here and there like a radio station broadcasting with a weak signal.

“...do something about that cut on her head…”

“Over there. Do you see it? It’s…”

“…current’s pulling us away from the shoreline.”

“…keep paddling, Alec.”

Her mind eased back into full, blessed unconsciousness. She knew no more for some time.

*****

She heard a rustling in the foliage behind her and whirled around. The giant wolf emerged from the tree line that ended many yards from the precipice where she stood nude in the moonlight. Her shoulder-length hair stirred against her bare neck in the island breeze sweetly perfumed by the indigenous fauna. The wolf padded silently toward her, head raised proudly to look her in the eye.

“Stay back!” She took an unconscious step backward toward the cliff’s edge.

“…you hear me? Trista? Wake up, cowgirl.” The man’s deep voice sounded from somewhere above her. She was glad he was back.