To celebrate the release of our latest boxed set, NAUGHTY HEARTS, we are giving away a Naughty Heart necklace and a print copy of NAUGHTY LIST to two winners. The contest will run from February 1st - 7th. There are 10 ways to enter as well as a daily bonus entry so come back every day to increase your chances. Good luck & happy reading!
Alexa, Belle, Berengaria, Charlotte, Francesca, Katherine, Lainey-Jo, Lynne, Marianne, Nicole, Regina, Suz, Terry and Trinity
Win a Naughty Heart Necklace and a copy of Naughty List!
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Excerpt from THE REAPER'S VALENTINE by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Copyright © Charlotte Boyett-Compo, 2015
Cree chuckled as he leaned back in the desk chair with his hands cupping the back of his head and his legs crossed at the ankles as he braced his bare feet on the desktop. He wiggled his toes and chuckled again. She was giving him quite the show. He’d been watching her for the last hour—making note of every angry hiss, loud sigh, raging glance at the camera, and foot stomp. Once or twice, she’d flipped him the bird and when she did the sneer that came from her beautiful mouth amused him even more.
And what a mouth it was! He wished he could see those luscious full coral lips but her face was hidden behind the pillow as she growled into the fabric. He wondered just how mad she’d be if she knew there was a camera in her bedroom, too. Not in the bathing chamber but one hidden in the heat register across from her bed. It shouldn’t be there but he’d crawled through the ductwork himself to place it there half an hour earlier when she’d exhausted herself trying to get out of the apartment. She’d called him every vile name in the book until she realized she was good and caught. Watching her drum her heels into the mattress told him she’d be very mad when she found out about that camera.
He wondered if she was going to fight him when he appeared in her bedroom later that evening.
“Oh, yeah,” he said then grinned wickedly, looking forward to it. He wanted her to fight him. He wanted to feel her squirming in his arms until he kissed her and drained away any sign of resistance.
That was the way it was between life-mates. Morrigunia, the Triune goddess, put them together for a reason. She had created them expressly for one another and there would be no denying what was inevitable. They were born to be two halves that would make a very strong whole. They completed one another and where one went, the other would go.
Even into death.
He cocked his eyebrows when she threw aside the pillow and sat up, bracing herself on her elbows. She seemed to be staring straight at the camera as though she knew it was there. Her stare was so intense he realized she had somehow discovered it. Her slow, evil sneer was all the proof he needed.
“Here we go,” he said softly.
“You want to play Peeping Tom, dickdrip?” she asked as she sat all the way up. “Okay, I’ll give your perverted ass something to peep at!”
As soon as her hands went to the snaps of her pj top, he uncrossed his legs and dropped them from the desk. He sat forward with his elbows replacing his heels on the desktop to stare intently at the vid-screen before him. He licked his lips as the first snap came undone and he saw a V of soft feminine flesh behind the opening. Threading his fingers together to keep them still, he felt his cock jerk when the second snap came undone.
Her full attention was riveted on the vent. Though there was no expression on her lovely face, there was retaliatory fire in her green eyes. Even from his apartment a sub-level away he felt the heat from that glare. It made his groin tighten.
A third snap and the flash of the soft mound of her left breast appeared. His mouth flooded with moisture. His fangs tingled. He swallowed hard as the fourth snap parted the material even more and the valley between her breasts came into view.
“Sweet Merciful Alel,” he whispered as he waited for the last snap to come undone but she stopped, lifted her chin and the slow, nasty smile that pulled at her full lips made him catch his breath.
Instead of popping that last snap, she slid her right hand behind the camouflage of the pj top to cup her left breast. He could see her hand moving under the material and knew she was fondling that lush mound. Her smile disappeared as her lips parted. The wet tip of her tongue thrust slowly from between her lips to curl enticingly over the bottom one before she pulled it back in. She winked.
“Woman, you are playing with fire,” he said to the screen—as unable to tear his attention away from it as to stop his heart from pounding in his chest or the sweat from forming on his brow.
Cree chuckled as he leaned back in the desk chair with his hands cupping the back of his head and his legs crossed at the ankles as he braced his bare feet on the desktop. He wiggled his toes and chuckled again. She was giving him quite the show. He’d been watching her for the last hour—making note of every angry hiss, loud sigh, raging glance at the camera, and foot stomp. Once or twice, she’d flipped him the bird and when she did the sneer that came from her beautiful mouth amused him even more.
And what a mouth it was! He wished he could see those luscious full coral lips but her face was hidden behind the pillow as she growled into the fabric. He wondered just how mad she’d be if she knew there was a camera in her bedroom, too. Not in the bathing chamber but one hidden in the heat register across from her bed. It shouldn’t be there but he’d crawled through the ductwork himself to place it there half an hour earlier when she’d exhausted herself trying to get out of the apartment. She’d called him every vile name in the book until she realized she was good and caught. Watching her drum her heels into the mattress told him she’d be very mad when she found out about that camera.
He wondered if she was going to fight him when he appeared in her bedroom later that evening.
“Oh, yeah,” he said then grinned wickedly, looking forward to it. He wanted her to fight him. He wanted to feel her squirming in his arms until he kissed her and drained away any sign of resistance.
That was the way it was between life-mates. Morrigunia, the Triune goddess, put them together for a reason. She had created them expressly for one another and there would be no denying what was inevitable. They were born to be two halves that would make a very strong whole. They completed one another and where one went, the other would go.
Even into death.
He cocked his eyebrows when she threw aside the pillow and sat up, bracing herself on her elbows. She seemed to be staring straight at the camera as though she knew it was there. Her stare was so intense he realized she had somehow discovered it. Her slow, evil sneer was all the proof he needed.
“Here we go,” he said softly.
“You want to play Peeping Tom, dickdrip?” she asked as she sat all the way up. “Okay, I’ll give your perverted ass something to peep at!”
As soon as her hands went to the snaps of her pj top, he uncrossed his legs and dropped them from the desk. He sat forward with his elbows replacing his heels on the desktop to stare intently at the vid-screen before him. He licked his lips as the first snap came undone and he saw a V of soft feminine flesh behind the opening. Threading his fingers together to keep them still, he felt his cock jerk when the second snap came undone.
Her full attention was riveted on the vent. Though there was no expression on her lovely face, there was retaliatory fire in her green eyes. Even from his apartment a sub-level away he felt the heat from that glare. It made his groin tighten.
A third snap and the flash of the soft mound of her left breast appeared. His mouth flooded with moisture. His fangs tingled. He swallowed hard as the fourth snap parted the material even more and the valley between her breasts came into view.
“Sweet Merciful Alel,” he whispered as he waited for the last snap to come undone but she stopped, lifted her chin and the slow, nasty smile that pulled at her full lips made him catch his breath.
Instead of popping that last snap, she slid her right hand behind the camouflage of the pj top to cup her left breast. He could see her hand moving under the material and knew she was fondling that lush mound. Her smile disappeared as her lips parted. The wet tip of her tongue thrust slowly from between her lips to curl enticingly over the bottom one before she pulled it back in. She winked.
“Woman, you are playing with fire,” he said to the screen—as unable to tear his attention away from it as to stop his heart from pounding in his chest or the sweat from forming on his brow.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Excerpt from FIFTY SHADES OF VALENTINE'S DAY by Katherine Kingston
Copyright © Katherine Kingston, 2015
Valentine’s Day… A day to celebrate love, relationships, sweethearts, joy. Chocolate candy, hearts and flowers… Bah humbug. Wrong holiday, right sentiment, Melissa decided as she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building after the longest day of her life.
What kind of shitty asshole dumped his girlfriend of six months on Valentine’s Day, of all days? Daniel McKenzie Winslow, her own shitty asshole of an ex-boyfriend. He couldn’t be what she needed, he claimed, which was true in its way, but not for the reasons he wanted her to believe. Not only that, he did it with an email. Sent to her work email account.
Asshole didn’t begin to describe him.
And probably because she was so upset by that, she got yelled at by two customers who thought she wasn’t moving fast enough, and another she accidentally shorted on a withdrawal. Of course, her supervisor noticed too, and asked if there was a problem. Yeah, right. And her drawer came up fifty-two dollars short.
And now there was someone else parked in her parking space, which meant looking for another one. Perfect cap to a horrible day. She thumped the wheel in frustration, then spotted a narrow space between a huge SUV and shiny red Trans Am. Her little car would just fit.
But she cut it too close. The grating screech of metal on metal from the right rear meant her day was about to get even worse. What to do now?
Melissa drew a deep breath, and with shaking hands, reversed enough to back away from the other car and then pulled in straighter, avoiding it this time. She’d seen the bad news, though. Several dark gouges scored the red paint along the panel above the left rear tire. She let her head sink forward onto the steering wheel, fighting back tears.
Did she have to notify the police? She didn’t think so. But she’d have to tell the owner about it and offer to pay for the damage. Soon. Right now would be best.
But she couldn’t. Not like that. Not when she knew who the car’s owner was. She’d write out an apology and include a check with the note that she’d make up any difference between it and the actual bill.
God, she hated the thought of having to take this to him—only the hottest guy she’d seen in forever. She’d tried not to notice him too much, since she was dating Daniel, but how could she ignore a guy who’d star in most women’s favorite wet dreams? It wouldn’t be easy telling anyone about this. But him? It was going to kill her.
Melissa gathered her purse and scurried to her apartment, intending to write that note first thing and get it to him before he got out and noticed the damage. But when she sat down with pen and paper, she ran into immediate issues, starting with the first line, when she realized she didn’t know his name, so had no idea what to put after “Dear…”
Following some internal debate she settled on “Neighbor.”
It didn’t get any easier. She was only three sentences into it when a knock at the door interrupted. She half-expected a police officer. She didn’t expect him. Six feet two inches of the most gorgeous lean, toned male body she’d ever seen, topped with neatly cut sandy blond hair, green eyes, lean cheeks and a totally perfect mouth. Right then, though, the green eyes sparled with anger and the lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I assume you know who I am,” he said, not waiting for her to find breath enough to speak.
“The c…car. You’ve seen.” Melissa didn’t usually stutter, but her brain had apparently shorted out. “I’m so…sorry.”
“I should hope so.”
“I’ll pay for repairs. Make it as good as new. I pro…promise.”
“You will.” He looked around her sort-of neat apartment. “No question about that. But I’m guessing you don’t want to involve the police or insurance companies?”
The deep, sexy, stern voice almost mesmerized her. Shivers ran up and down her spine in response to it. Melissa drew in a deep breath before she answered. “I’d rather not.”
He grimaced. “I’m okay with resolving this just between the two of us. As long as it gets resolved in a way that satisfies me. But first I want a piece of paper detailing what happened and admitting your responsibility. Signed by you. Now. Before we talk about anything else.”
Valentine’s Day… A day to celebrate love, relationships, sweethearts, joy. Chocolate candy, hearts and flowers… Bah humbug. Wrong holiday, right sentiment, Melissa decided as she pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building after the longest day of her life.
What kind of shitty asshole dumped his girlfriend of six months on Valentine’s Day, of all days? Daniel McKenzie Winslow, her own shitty asshole of an ex-boyfriend. He couldn’t be what she needed, he claimed, which was true in its way, but not for the reasons he wanted her to believe. Not only that, he did it with an email. Sent to her work email account.
Asshole didn’t begin to describe him.
And probably because she was so upset by that, she got yelled at by two customers who thought she wasn’t moving fast enough, and another she accidentally shorted on a withdrawal. Of course, her supervisor noticed too, and asked if there was a problem. Yeah, right. And her drawer came up fifty-two dollars short.
And now there was someone else parked in her parking space, which meant looking for another one. Perfect cap to a horrible day. She thumped the wheel in frustration, then spotted a narrow space between a huge SUV and shiny red Trans Am. Her little car would just fit.
But she cut it too close. The grating screech of metal on metal from the right rear meant her day was about to get even worse. What to do now?
Melissa drew a deep breath, and with shaking hands, reversed enough to back away from the other car and then pulled in straighter, avoiding it this time. She’d seen the bad news, though. Several dark gouges scored the red paint along the panel above the left rear tire. She let her head sink forward onto the steering wheel, fighting back tears.
Did she have to notify the police? She didn’t think so. But she’d have to tell the owner about it and offer to pay for the damage. Soon. Right now would be best.
But she couldn’t. Not like that. Not when she knew who the car’s owner was. She’d write out an apology and include a check with the note that she’d make up any difference between it and the actual bill.
God, she hated the thought of having to take this to him—only the hottest guy she’d seen in forever. She’d tried not to notice him too much, since she was dating Daniel, but how could she ignore a guy who’d star in most women’s favorite wet dreams? It wouldn’t be easy telling anyone about this. But him? It was going to kill her.
Melissa gathered her purse and scurried to her apartment, intending to write that note first thing and get it to him before he got out and noticed the damage. But when she sat down with pen and paper, she ran into immediate issues, starting with the first line, when she realized she didn’t know his name, so had no idea what to put after “Dear…”
Following some internal debate she settled on “Neighbor.”
It didn’t get any easier. She was only three sentences into it when a knock at the door interrupted. She half-expected a police officer. She didn’t expect him. Six feet two inches of the most gorgeous lean, toned male body she’d ever seen, topped with neatly cut sandy blond hair, green eyes, lean cheeks and a totally perfect mouth. Right then, though, the green eyes sparled with anger and the lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I assume you know who I am,” he said, not waiting for her to find breath enough to speak.
“The c…car. You’ve seen.” Melissa didn’t usually stutter, but her brain had apparently shorted out. “I’m so…sorry.”
“I should hope so.”
“I’ll pay for repairs. Make it as good as new. I pro…promise.”
“You will.” He looked around her sort-of neat apartment. “No question about that. But I’m guessing you don’t want to involve the police or insurance companies?”
The deep, sexy, stern voice almost mesmerized her. Shivers ran up and down her spine in response to it. Melissa drew in a deep breath before she answered. “I’d rather not.”
He grimaced. “I’m okay with resolving this just between the two of us. As long as it gets resolved in a way that satisfies me. But first I want a piece of paper detailing what happened and admitting your responsibility. Signed by you. Now. Before we talk about anything else.”
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Excerpt from CUPID'S CURIOUS CASE by Marianne Stephens
Copyright © Marianne Stephens, 2015
Amy picked a pink candy with a red heart on it. Alan chose a blue piece that had white sprinkles on it. They popped their chosen pieces into their mouths at the same time.
A tingle went through Amy as she savored the rich treat. It spread through her body, and sent a shocking flame of desire to every inch of her body. There was a catch in her breath, and she itched to satisfy a lustful need she’d never felt with Scott.
She peeked at Alan, and noticed his eyes were closed as he devoured his candy. His breathing quickened, and dropping her gaze lower, she spied a distinct bulge pressing against his jeans’ zipper.
Alan opened his eyes and stared into hers. A heightened sense of craving, want, desire seemed to spark between them. Amy was at a loss for words, at least common sense ones. She wanted him. Here. Now. With a wanton passion.
“Try another piece,” she whispered, almost afraid to say anything.
“I—Sure. These are overwhelming. All my senses are aware of the decadent taste it leaves in my mouth. You too?”
“Yes,” she managed to answer before biting into a green piece of candy with a soft, minty inside that slid down her throat, leaving more tingling sensations wreaking havoc with her body.
Alan raked a hand through his hair. “Is it me, or is it hot in here?”
A stinging rush of heat course through her, settling in her cheeks. “It must be the champagne.” She fanned her face with her hand. “It does feel warmer than before.”
“Why don’t we open your window a little? Cool us off.”
Both stood, and walked to the window. Amy cranked it open and a rush of cooler air flowed inside. For a moment she shivered, and then felt warmer as Alan, wrapped his arms around her.
“You’re cold. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.”
Amy clasped his arms, hugging them tighter. “No. I mean, we can close the window, but I’m enjoying standing here with you.”
Alan pulled her back towards him. Amy couldn’t stop her hormones from racing into overdrive at the sensation of rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. “Turn around, Amy. I want to see you while I hold you in my arms. Please.”
She quickly turned to face him, never losing contact. Heat radiated between them, satisfying her passionate lust now controlling her every thought. “I want to be held by you—touch you.” She rested her head on his chest. “We’ve missed out on being with each other all this time. I feel a need now. And no, it’s not the champagne talking. It’s me. I’ve always hoped for more between us.”
Alan lifted her head, lowered his mouth to hers, and began with a slow, gentle kiss. He pulled his head away and said, “We’re together now. I want this. I want you. No, like the note said, I desire you.”
His next kiss was more urgent as he rubbed his hands down her back and lifted her rear end closer. “Tell me now if you want me to stop and I’ll leave. I’ll go, but I don’t want to.”
“No. Please stay. I want you,” she moaned, consumed in a need to have Alan make love to her.
The next series of kisses were more frantic, with tongues slipping between teeth to thrust into each other’s mouth. Amy ran her hands down his chest and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. She noted the catch in his breathing as she undid his belt and lowered his zipper.
Then, she slipped her hand inside and touch the torrid flesh of his penis. Alan had circled her breasts with his hands. With every brush across each nipple, Amy’s breathing raced. Her nipples ached to have him hold, squeeze, lave them.
She stepped back, holding her lust in check, for a moment of sanity. “We’ll be more comfortable in my bedroom. I’ll undress you and then you can undress me.”
His smile only encouraged her to take control. “A definite invitation I won’t refuse.”
She took his hand and started walking to her bedroom.
Alan pulled her on a slight detour to grab the candy box, champagne bottle, and glasses. “I have plans for this.” He winked.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Excerpt from CHOCOLATE-COATED REUNION by Berengaria Brown
Copyright © Berengaria Brown, 2015
“I need this finalized tonight. I know tomorrow’s Christmas, but the CEO expects me to have this data in a report for him on Thursday.” Clauson dropped a thick file folder onto Matt’s desk.
Matt looked up. He was just filling in his time sheet, ready to leave the moment it was five o’clock.
“But it’s four-thirty now.” Matt flicked a glance at the clock on his computer. “Four thirty-seven.”
“So what? You don’t have any kids. You don’t have to hurry home to do the whole Santa act. It should only take you about three hours. That’ll give you plenty of time to go to whatever holiday party you planned to attend.”
Matt opened his mouth to argue then shut it again. Not only didn’t he have kids, he wasn’t even in a steady relationship. He’d arranged to have drinks this evening with Jake and had hopes that their friendship would develop into a relationship, but that was all in the laps of the gods at this stage.
He opened the folder and glanced at the top few sheets. The data was clearly explained and would be easy to tabulate. Oh well, likely this wouldn’t even take him three hours. It wasn’t such a big deal after all.
Ten sheets into the file, the situation worsened dramatically. The data was no longer clear, there were pages and pages of handwritten notes that were scribbled over in different colored inks and it took him long minutes to decide whether that number was a three or an eight, and whether the next number was a one, a seven, or even possibly a two.
At six he texted Jake.
Sorry. Stuck @ work with project must finish. Hope to see you @ 8.
Almost immediately, his cell vibrated with a reply.
No problemo. I’ll work back too.
Relieved, Matt dug into the file with renewed energy, and a sigh of relief when the next few pages were much easier to decipher. It was only almost two hours later, when his columns didn’t add up, that he knew he’d guessed wrongly on some of the figures and had to go back and retry them. It took another hour to sort that mess out and by then, it was five to nine.
Really sorry. Still here. Another hour, he texted.
The answer came back, Sounds good.
Matt plowed on through the file, rejoicing when everything was straightforward, annoyed and frustrated when it wasn’t. At eleven he made the decision that he would hand in the work and catch the last bus home whether it was fully finished or not.
Catching last bus home. We’ll have midnight drinks together and toast the holiday season in style.
A brief OK was the response.
“I need this finalized tonight. I know tomorrow’s Christmas, but the CEO expects me to have this data in a report for him on Thursday.” Clauson dropped a thick file folder onto Matt’s desk.
Matt looked up. He was just filling in his time sheet, ready to leave the moment it was five o’clock.
“But it’s four-thirty now.” Matt flicked a glance at the clock on his computer. “Four thirty-seven.”
“So what? You don’t have any kids. You don’t have to hurry home to do the whole Santa act. It should only take you about three hours. That’ll give you plenty of time to go to whatever holiday party you planned to attend.”
Matt opened his mouth to argue then shut it again. Not only didn’t he have kids, he wasn’t even in a steady relationship. He’d arranged to have drinks this evening with Jake and had hopes that their friendship would develop into a relationship, but that was all in the laps of the gods at this stage.
He opened the folder and glanced at the top few sheets. The data was clearly explained and would be easy to tabulate. Oh well, likely this wouldn’t even take him three hours. It wasn’t such a big deal after all.
Ten sheets into the file, the situation worsened dramatically. The data was no longer clear, there were pages and pages of handwritten notes that were scribbled over in different colored inks and it took him long minutes to decide whether that number was a three or an eight, and whether the next number was a one, a seven, or even possibly a two.
At six he texted Jake.
Sorry. Stuck @ work with project must finish. Hope to see you @ 8.
Almost immediately, his cell vibrated with a reply.
No problemo. I’ll work back too.
Relieved, Matt dug into the file with renewed energy, and a sigh of relief when the next few pages were much easier to decipher. It was only almost two hours later, when his columns didn’t add up, that he knew he’d guessed wrongly on some of the figures and had to go back and retry them. It took another hour to sort that mess out and by then, it was five to nine.
Really sorry. Still here. Another hour, he texted.
The answer came back, Sounds good.
Matt plowed on through the file, rejoicing when everything was straightforward, annoyed and frustrated when it wasn’t. At eleven he made the decision that he would hand in the work and catch the last bus home whether it was fully finished or not.
Catching last bus home. We’ll have midnight drinks together and toast the holiday season in style.
A brief OK was the response.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Excerpt from BUY ME A ROSE by Francesca Hawley
Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2015
Chapter One
She heard his step on the stairs and dished his bacon and eggs onto the plate. Right on schedule. Just like every morning. He walked into the kitchen and absently kissed her cheek as he sat down at the table. He ate neatly, as he always did.
Jessica Whitewolf watched her True Mate as he read the paper, his forehead knotted in thought. He’d been so focused on a case lately. One of his patients was late in a high risk pregnancy and he had been seeing her often so that she’d have a healthy pup.
Jess knew she shouldn’t feel jealous, the wolf bitch needed Nat’s attention. Sadly though, Jess couldn’t remember the last time her Mate focused so keenly on her. She fought the envy down and choked it off, wishing the best for the expectant mother.
“What are your plans today?” she asked.
Jess could almost predict what he’d say even though they rarely used their True Mate telepathic bond anymore. He’d talk about spending the day at the clinic and checking on his special case. Then he’d get up, give her a quick kiss and tell her he’d see her tonight.
“It’s a clinic day. I’ll be slammed all day with office visits.”
“Any interesting cases? How is Missy Goldwolf doing?”
“Missy?”
Jess smiled. Nat was a stickler about confidentiality. “She’s pregnant. She’s had a difficult pregnancy and everyone in the entire valley is holding their breaths hoping she’ll carry to term. It isn’t hard to figure out, honey.”
He rose and crossed the room. “I suppose not. She’s holding her own. I’m just glad that Yohana approved the upgrade to the obstetrics and neonatal units at the hospital.”
“Well, considering she’ll need it soon herself, it was a no-brainer for the council.”
“She didn’t know that at the time it was approved, but my thanks to the council,” Nat smiled and gave her a wink since Jess was part of that civic body. “I better go. See you tonight, right?” He kissed her cheek, picked up his briefcase and headed for the front door. Jess followed.
“The kids sent cards.”
“Hmm?” he asked absently as she followed him.
“Anniversary cards,” she hinted. “For us.”
“That’s nice.” He opened the door and left without turning around once. She watched him walk to the car and waved as he drove away. He didn’t wave back. She wasn’t even sure he’d seen her.
Jess sighed. When had this happened? When had they become so comfortable and…boring. She turned around and went inside to wash up in the kitchen before she headed over to her landscaping business.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Excerpt from UNDER THE HOOD by Lainey-Jo Charles
Copyright © Lainey-Jo Charles, 2015
When he opened the door to the truck, not only was he blasted by the heat that had quickly warmed up the truck cab, but he also experienced Lisbeth’s scent in concentrated form. The scent he caught brief snippets of when she was in the garage filled his nostrils and lungs until he imagined he could taste her.
The scent of berries. That’s what the scent was. No wonder he could almost taste her. No wonder he wanted desperately to taste her.
God, he hoped her scent didn’t leave his truck cab.
He was so screwed.
“How long do you think it’s gonna take?”
Her voice interrupted his musings and he tried kick starting his brain into working and thinking and coming up with answers to questions. The car. She’s asking about her car.
“I’ll be able to give you a better estimate of that tomorrow after I’ve gone in and made sure everything has been catalogued so we’re working from a master repairs list.”
“Oh.” She turned from him and looked back out the front window at the closed bay door shielding her car from sight. “That makes perfect sense.” She paused again before turning toward him. “I guess I need to line up a rental car, depending on how long it’ll take.”
“Yeah, I’ll definitely call you tomorrow morning with what I know so you can figure all that out.”
A small grin broke out that she tried to hide.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. Really.” She shook her head and turned toward the side passenger window, but not before he saw the blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Come on. Tell me.”
“I was just thinking, here I’ve got a guy who’s taking me home, and I’ve already gotten a promise that I’ll get a phone call from him tomorrow morning. All the single ladies would be jealous.”
“I seriously doubt that.” Was she…flirting with him? “I don’t exactly have women beating down my door.” Why had he said that? He needed to install a filter between his brain and his mouth.
“Uh-huh. I hear you.”
He let it go. There were exactly zero women interested in him, well maybe that number was now one, but it wasn’t like he had this super busy social life. He picked up his coffee mug from the holder and took a sip.
When he opened the door to the truck, not only was he blasted by the heat that had quickly warmed up the truck cab, but he also experienced Lisbeth’s scent in concentrated form. The scent he caught brief snippets of when she was in the garage filled his nostrils and lungs until he imagined he could taste her.
The scent of berries. That’s what the scent was. No wonder he could almost taste her. No wonder he wanted desperately to taste her.
God, he hoped her scent didn’t leave his truck cab.
He was so screwed.
“How long do you think it’s gonna take?”
Her voice interrupted his musings and he tried kick starting his brain into working and thinking and coming up with answers to questions. The car. She’s asking about her car.
“I’ll be able to give you a better estimate of that tomorrow after I’ve gone in and made sure everything has been catalogued so we’re working from a master repairs list.”
“Oh.” She turned from him and looked back out the front window at the closed bay door shielding her car from sight. “That makes perfect sense.” She paused again before turning toward him. “I guess I need to line up a rental car, depending on how long it’ll take.”
“Yeah, I’ll definitely call you tomorrow morning with what I know so you can figure all that out.”
A small grin broke out that she tried to hide.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. Really.” She shook her head and turned toward the side passenger window, but not before he saw the blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Come on. Tell me.”
“I was just thinking, here I’ve got a guy who’s taking me home, and I’ve already gotten a promise that I’ll get a phone call from him tomorrow morning. All the single ladies would be jealous.”
“I seriously doubt that.” Was she…flirting with him? “I don’t exactly have women beating down my door.” Why had he said that? He needed to install a filter between his brain and his mouth.
“Uh-huh. I hear you.”
He let it go. There were exactly zero women interested in him, well maybe that number was now one, but it wasn’t like he had this super busy social life. He picked up his coffee mug from the holder and took a sip.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Excerpt from TWO INTO ONE GOES GREAT by Lynne Connolly
Copyright © Lynne Connolly, 2015
She undid a button on her black top, revealing the lacy white top of her bra. Just a little, to tease rather than anything else. “Like that?”
For once she’d get her fantasy to become a model. The one the prepubescent girl had played, and held until she was sixteen and still not tall enough. She had fewer illusions these days.
But she did like the appreciative purr that Jordan gave, and Cody’s sleepy smile. Both men’s attentions were fixed on her cleavage. At least she had one, and it was real.
Boldly she sat on the white sofa, slanting her legs to one side. Then she busied herself ripping the cellophane off a box of chocolates, dropping the detritus at the back of the seat where it wouldn’t be seen. Was there anything like opening a box of chocolates for the first time? She held the box up to her nose and sniffed. “Gorgeous,” Jordan murmured. The snaps of the cameras were for her this time. For the first time in her life, cameras were clicking for her. It felt good.
Lifting a candy, she took a bite. Nut chocolate. “So good,” she murmured. Click, click. She concentrated on the goodies rather than the photos. At one stage in her life she’d been embarrassed to have her picture taken but now it was so much a part of everyday that she hardly noticed it.
The seat depressed as Cody sat next to her. He had no camera in his hand, and he was topless. “Let’s get a bit more personal, hmm?” he said, as he selected a chocolate and held it to her mouth. “Now bite. I want to see that expression the girls missed. Sheer enjoyment.”
Not difficult to do since he’d selected a cherry one. She kept her lips on the dark chocolate, sipping from the shell when she’d bitten into it.
Facing her, he held up another. “Let the contents fall. Jordan can get the drip.”
She did as he told her, watching his eyes. Pale blue, they seemed to see right through her. Wow, she’d never noticed that ring of dark blue around his iris. Very sexy. The drip of cherry touched her lower lip, then trickled to her chin.
Cody leaned forward and licked it off. Click, click.
Heat warmed her, heated her crotch, but alarms went off in her head. Cody pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I know, baby, but we’re still under contract here. Nothing gets out without your approval. The contract covers employees of Square, in case we needed to change the models. You’re an employee, right? Then Square can’t sue our asses off, and put us out of business.”
That reassured her. He was right. They couldn’t use anything from this session without the agency’s approval. Which meant her. “But I could get some for myself?”
“Absolutely. No extra charge.” He kissed her on each word, each kiss going deeper. “Mmm, I’ve never enjoyed cherry chocolate so much. It makes me wonder what you make caramel taste like.”
He selected the caramel and touched it to her lips. “A tiny nibble now. Just to break the shell.”
Oh, she’d broken the shell all right.
She undid a button on her black top, revealing the lacy white top of her bra. Just a little, to tease rather than anything else. “Like that?”
For once she’d get her fantasy to become a model. The one the prepubescent girl had played, and held until she was sixteen and still not tall enough. She had fewer illusions these days.
But she did like the appreciative purr that Jordan gave, and Cody’s sleepy smile. Both men’s attentions were fixed on her cleavage. At least she had one, and it was real.
Boldly she sat on the white sofa, slanting her legs to one side. Then she busied herself ripping the cellophane off a box of chocolates, dropping the detritus at the back of the seat where it wouldn’t be seen. Was there anything like opening a box of chocolates for the first time? She held the box up to her nose and sniffed. “Gorgeous,” Jordan murmured. The snaps of the cameras were for her this time. For the first time in her life, cameras were clicking for her. It felt good.
Lifting a candy, she took a bite. Nut chocolate. “So good,” she murmured. Click, click. She concentrated on the goodies rather than the photos. At one stage in her life she’d been embarrassed to have her picture taken but now it was so much a part of everyday that she hardly noticed it.
The seat depressed as Cody sat next to her. He had no camera in his hand, and he was topless. “Let’s get a bit more personal, hmm?” he said, as he selected a chocolate and held it to her mouth. “Now bite. I want to see that expression the girls missed. Sheer enjoyment.”
Not difficult to do since he’d selected a cherry one. She kept her lips on the dark chocolate, sipping from the shell when she’d bitten into it.
Facing her, he held up another. “Let the contents fall. Jordan can get the drip.”
She did as he told her, watching his eyes. Pale blue, they seemed to see right through her. Wow, she’d never noticed that ring of dark blue around his iris. Very sexy. The drip of cherry touched her lower lip, then trickled to her chin.
Cody leaned forward and licked it off. Click, click.
Heat warmed her, heated her crotch, but alarms went off in her head. Cody pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I know, baby, but we’re still under contract here. Nothing gets out without your approval. The contract covers employees of Square, in case we needed to change the models. You’re an employee, right? Then Square can’t sue our asses off, and put us out of business.”
That reassured her. He was right. They couldn’t use anything from this session without the agency’s approval. Which meant her. “But I could get some for myself?”
“Absolutely. No extra charge.” He kissed her on each word, each kiss going deeper. “Mmm, I’ve never enjoyed cherry chocolate so much. It makes me wonder what you make caramel taste like.”
He selected the caramel and touched it to her lips. “A tiny nibble now. Just to break the shell.”
Oh, she’d broken the shell all right.
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Excerpt from DELIA'S HEARTTHROB by Regina Kammer
Copyright © Regina Kammer, 2015
A thwack and a curse presaged Edward’s entry into the lab. He stumbled in from his office, bleary-eyed, his brown curls disheveled, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. Whatever Sebastian had done to him last night or this morning—or both—had been clearly far too strenuous. Delia sighed.
Sometimes all Edward needed was a cuddle.
He pawed through the drawers of the tool cabinet. “Seb, have you seen my—”
He glanced over his shoulder and froze, staring at Delia, his cheeks rosy under fine stubble, the color deepening as his gaze swept over her thighs.
He turned to face them. “Sebastian,” he asked, now seemingly mesmerized by Delia’s exposed knickers. “Whatever are you working on?”
Sebastian beamed. “I call it the Broadchurch Phalangical Restraint System.”
Delia rolled her eyes. How typical of Sebastian to name the invention after himself.
Edward scowled as he approached. “Is this for one of those clandestine establishments you frequent?” He ran his fingers over the segments of a metal hand, so tantalizingly close to the bare thigh above Delia’s stocking. He no longer blushed, instead his lips and forehead twisted in a thoughtful expression.
“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “Dominick’s.”
Edward’s pinky strayed to her inner thigh. A frisson of lust tore through her, melting her insides, like the ganache centers of the bonbons she had indulged in the night before.
Edward paled and snatched his hand away.
“Miss Bennett,” he said as if just noticing her. “Good morning.”
Delia’s heart pounded, no doubt sending blood to color her cheeks the same red as her frilly knickers. “Good morning, Professor Ockham.”
A thwack and a curse presaged Edward’s entry into the lab. He stumbled in from his office, bleary-eyed, his brown curls disheveled, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. Whatever Sebastian had done to him last night or this morning—or both—had been clearly far too strenuous. Delia sighed.
Sometimes all Edward needed was a cuddle.
He pawed through the drawers of the tool cabinet. “Seb, have you seen my—”
He glanced over his shoulder and froze, staring at Delia, his cheeks rosy under fine stubble, the color deepening as his gaze swept over her thighs.
He turned to face them. “Sebastian,” he asked, now seemingly mesmerized by Delia’s exposed knickers. “Whatever are you working on?”
Sebastian beamed. “I call it the Broadchurch Phalangical Restraint System.”
Delia rolled her eyes. How typical of Sebastian to name the invention after himself.
Edward scowled as he approached. “Is this for one of those clandestine establishments you frequent?” He ran his fingers over the segments of a metal hand, so tantalizingly close to the bare thigh above Delia’s stocking. He no longer blushed, instead his lips and forehead twisted in a thoughtful expression.
“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “Dominick’s.”
Edward’s pinky strayed to her inner thigh. A frisson of lust tore through her, melting her insides, like the ganache centers of the bonbons she had indulged in the night before.
Edward paled and snatched his hand away.
“Miss Bennett,” he said as if just noticing her. “Good morning.”
Delia’s heart pounded, no doubt sending blood to color her cheeks the same red as her frilly knickers. “Good morning, Professor Ockham.”
Friday, January 23, 2015
Excerpt from VALENTIME by Belle Scarlett
Copyright © Belle Scarlett, 2015
Chapter One
The ink was barely dry on the mortgage papers to the sprawling, old plantation house when Valerie Heart put a sledgehammer through her living room wall and discovered the Valentine addressed to her from the past. One hundred and fifty years in the past, to be precise.
She peered into the hole behind the plaster and plucked out the yellowed piece of folded paper. It rested on top of a hinged leather case about the size of a deck of cards. The brittle stuff ripped a little in her hand. Worried that the document might turn into powder between her fingers before she could see what it contained, she unfolded the creased parchment slowly. She removed her safety goggles for an unobstructed view of the sweeping, cursive lettering penned in faded ink.
I cannot sleep. I have no stomach for victuals or drink. I cannot think upon anything save having you in my bed again. Underneath me where you belong. Warm and wet as a soft spring night, with your legs wrapped around my waist as though to pull me all the way lost inside of you. Were you merely a ghost, after all? A wanton phantom come to delight my nights with your sweet body, only to vanish cruelly when the cock crows the dawn’s arrival? You torment my empty days with your absence.
To add to my misery of finding you lost to me comes the intelligence that Sherman has cut off Augusta from Charleston and the railway between. One of the last remaining Reb armies now in Charleston is in danger of being surrounded. The end of the war cannot be far off, but my land is in the direct path of the ensuing disaster with Union shells advancing every day to kiss my property line. I am long past my original plan of doing my bit to help end this bloody conflict and then quitting the area timely before I am happened upon by either side; the result of which in either case would surely mean my court martial in one instance or my immediate hanging in the other. Yet I linger on here and find I cannot make myself leave this place without you. My gut twists at the thought of never seeing you again.
I will delay my departure in the hope that Providence may help my letter to find you in the manner you told me it shall. I pray you will re-appear as mysteriously as you left. Come back to me, Valerie Amy Heart. Find a way back to me. – Grayson Hunter
Valerie Amy Heart? Valerie stared at the paper in her hand, uncertain whether to be more incredulous at the crumbling missive that implored her by name or at the impossible date on it. February 14, 1865.
“Is this a joke?” She heard her own words echo softly in the empty room but felt instantly that this was no prank. This would be a pretty big gag for anyone she knew to pull off, and she knew no one in the immediate area. For another thing, she could feel the truth and passion in the letter as though it were a tangible thing, reaching out from the page to curl around her like heat from a bonfire. Impossible as it was, her gut tingled with certainty that the paper in her hand was meant for her find and… do what?
The historical detail in the letter was correct, as every school child in South Carolina knew. Three days after the date on this letter, General William Tecumseh Sherman and his Union Army swept through this area and burned Columbia just a few miles away. Nothing in the Union army’s path, including this plantation, had remained unscathed. The local population even put on Civil War reenactments in the countryside every year to commemorate the siege.
Valerie’s eyes scanned the document again, more slowly this time. She couldn’t decide which burning question frustrated her more.
Who was Grayson Hunter? How, or when, had she told him to send this letter? How could he have known her in 1865, much less so… intimately? What had his fate been?
Then she shivered, recalling the small cemetery belonging to the former, longtime occupants that the realtor had told her was on the property somewhere down by the woods. A morbid thought snaked through her mind before she could stop it.
Would she find Grayson Hunter’s name carved on one of the crumbling tombstones in the Hunter family plot when she explored the woods tomorrow morning?
The ink was barely dry on the mortgage papers to the sprawling, old plantation house when Valerie Heart put a sledgehammer through her living room wall and discovered the Valentine addressed to her from the past. One hundred and fifty years in the past, to be precise.
She peered into the hole behind the plaster and plucked out the yellowed piece of folded paper. It rested on top of a hinged leather case about the size of a deck of cards. The brittle stuff ripped a little in her hand. Worried that the document might turn into powder between her fingers before she could see what it contained, she unfolded the creased parchment slowly. She removed her safety goggles for an unobstructed view of the sweeping, cursive lettering penned in faded ink.
I cannot sleep. I have no stomach for victuals or drink. I cannot think upon anything save having you in my bed again. Underneath me where you belong. Warm and wet as a soft spring night, with your legs wrapped around my waist as though to pull me all the way lost inside of you. Were you merely a ghost, after all? A wanton phantom come to delight my nights with your sweet body, only to vanish cruelly when the cock crows the dawn’s arrival? You torment my empty days with your absence.
To add to my misery of finding you lost to me comes the intelligence that Sherman has cut off Augusta from Charleston and the railway between. One of the last remaining Reb armies now in Charleston is in danger of being surrounded. The end of the war cannot be far off, but my land is in the direct path of the ensuing disaster with Union shells advancing every day to kiss my property line. I am long past my original plan of doing my bit to help end this bloody conflict and then quitting the area timely before I am happened upon by either side; the result of which in either case would surely mean my court martial in one instance or my immediate hanging in the other. Yet I linger on here and find I cannot make myself leave this place without you. My gut twists at the thought of never seeing you again.
I will delay my departure in the hope that Providence may help my letter to find you in the manner you told me it shall. I pray you will re-appear as mysteriously as you left. Come back to me, Valerie Amy Heart. Find a way back to me. – Grayson Hunter
Valerie Amy Heart? Valerie stared at the paper in her hand, uncertain whether to be more incredulous at the crumbling missive that implored her by name or at the impossible date on it. February 14, 1865.
“Is this a joke?” She heard her own words echo softly in the empty room but felt instantly that this was no prank. This would be a pretty big gag for anyone she knew to pull off, and she knew no one in the immediate area. For another thing, she could feel the truth and passion in the letter as though it were a tangible thing, reaching out from the page to curl around her like heat from a bonfire. Impossible as it was, her gut tingled with certainty that the paper in her hand was meant for her find and… do what?
The historical detail in the letter was correct, as every school child in South Carolina knew. Three days after the date on this letter, General William Tecumseh Sherman and his Union Army swept through this area and burned Columbia just a few miles away. Nothing in the Union army’s path, including this plantation, had remained unscathed. The local population even put on Civil War reenactments in the countryside every year to commemorate the siege.
Valerie’s eyes scanned the document again, more slowly this time. She couldn’t decide which burning question frustrated her more.
Who was Grayson Hunter? How, or when, had she told him to send this letter? How could he have known her in 1865, much less so… intimately? What had his fate been?
Then she shivered, recalling the small cemetery belonging to the former, longtime occupants that the realtor had told her was on the property somewhere down by the woods. A morbid thought snaked through her mind before she could stop it.
Would she find Grayson Hunter’s name carved on one of the crumbling tombstones in the Hunter family plot when she explored the woods tomorrow morning?
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Excerpt from MY VALENTINE LOVERS by Nicole Austin
Copyright © Nicole Austin, 2015
“What a waste of time,” I grumbled, handing the lenses over to my sibling, Haidee. “Seven damn weeks of hiking out to the middle of nowhere and nothing. Not one glimpse of this mythical liger.” Sure, we’d caught sight of a total hunk hanging out with Sirena but had never seen him shift.
A liger of all things. The fabled hybrid offspring of a mating between lion and tiger. As if they really existed. Talia Portman had been convincing and seemed so certain, which was why I found myself conducting surveillance of my half-sister’s house. As the story went, Sirena found and mated with a liger. One who claimed ligers were monogamous and would take only one mate.
The story gave me hope. Because if one hybrid existed there had to be more, which meant I had a chance of finding one for myself. A mate of my own who belonged to me only and wouldn’t have to be shared with a pride of lionesses.
I admit it. I want what my sister found. Crave it with every fiber of my being. Especially the wild, uninhibited sex I’d watched with voyeuristic thrill through my lenses. The kind of hot, nail-me-to-the-wall sex I fantasize about but never come close to experiencing. God, how I want the experience, but not with one of the vain lions my father kept pushing me to take as a mate.
Growing up, I witnessed my mother’s endless roller coaster of emotions, thanks to dear old dad. Every time he showed up to spend time with her, Mom walked on clouds…only to be dropped into the depths of hell when he left again to be with one of his other mates.
Not me. I refuse to live that way. To raise my children alone and let them believe that screwed-up way of life is normal. Nope, not happening.
Haidee took a quick look at the house, sighed heavily then set the binoculars on the blanket we shared. “What I want to know is how Sirena not only landed a liger but has managed to actually keep him with her so long?”
If I had the answer to that million-dollar question, I’d be a happy camper.
All lioness shifters learn two basic facts about males early on—they are inherently lazy and complete tomcats. No male feline stays with a female, not even one of his mates, longer than a month before getting the itch to move on. Typically the males last about half that time. Yet this male had been with Sirena since Christmas. Incredible!
“Sorry, Haidee, but your mom’s full of shit. No way is the guy holed up in there with Sirena a feline shifter. Because a feline would have gone off to chase tail long before now.”
“Then why would Sirena keep him around?” Haidee shot back. “If he’s not feline he can’t even get her off.”
Haidee had a good point. Sex with a regular human man does nothing for a female shifter. Men lack the essential bit of anatomy required to stimulate a female feline to orgasm or to result in pregnancy. As with their animal counterparts, male feline shifters have a barb beneath the heads of their cocks that extends during mating, stroking a female’s pleasure spot to both orgasm and ovulation. No barb—no orgasm or babies. This I knew for fact from multiple frustrating attempts at reaching satisfaction with regular human men and several high-tech vibrators.
My imagination provided all kinds of incentive to find a feline and get barbed. To finally feel the tingling sensation of those firm, flexible extensions raking over the walls of my pussy, electrifying nerve endings hungry for stimulation, driving me out of my mind with pleasure beyond anything I have ever known. Without the barb—a lifetime of ho-hum sex with no fireworks. Ever.
Laying on my belly, I dropped my head into my hands and groaned as my last thread of hope unraveled. “We’re doomed to one day be sister wives.”
“Our lives suck,” Haidee complained.
“The total crap purebred felines put up with is really sad. Don’t you agree, Carson?”
The unexpected deep masculine voice startled me. Scrambling around, I got my feet under me and turned, crouched low and ready to shift if need be. My jaw dropped wide open in shock. Standing a few feet behind us were two drool-worthy hunks, clearly brothers.
Twins?
They appeared identical but I noticed a few small differences. Hunk one, on the left, had a small white scar under his right eyebrow while hunk two’s eyes were darker, emerald green compared to his brother’s softer jade color.
“I’ll never understand why they buy into that bullshit the males feed them, Cam,” twin on the right said.
My fingers itched to be holding my Nikon. What I wouldn’t have given to shoot the vibrant males against the stark contrast of the rugged winter background. Both were tall, muscular, and possessed the most incredible multi-hued hair in every shade from platinum to black with streaks of red and mahogany. And then there were the twin fantasies running through my head, getting me hot and bothered. Being the filling in that twin sandwich would be pure bliss.
Chapter One
Fluffy white clouds streaked with gray stretched across a pale blue
sky, blanketing desolate hills covered with rock, scrub brush and
skeletal trees. Winter had stripped the Texas Hill Country of its
vibrant colors, leaving the landscape sad and dismal—a perfect match for
my mood. From an elevated perch downwind, I studied the only structure
visible for endless miles through high-powered binoculars.“What a waste of time,” I grumbled, handing the lenses over to my sibling, Haidee. “Seven damn weeks of hiking out to the middle of nowhere and nothing. Not one glimpse of this mythical liger.” Sure, we’d caught sight of a total hunk hanging out with Sirena but had never seen him shift.
A liger of all things. The fabled hybrid offspring of a mating between lion and tiger. As if they really existed. Talia Portman had been convincing and seemed so certain, which was why I found myself conducting surveillance of my half-sister’s house. As the story went, Sirena found and mated with a liger. One who claimed ligers were monogamous and would take only one mate.
The story gave me hope. Because if one hybrid existed there had to be more, which meant I had a chance of finding one for myself. A mate of my own who belonged to me only and wouldn’t have to be shared with a pride of lionesses.
I admit it. I want what my sister found. Crave it with every fiber of my being. Especially the wild, uninhibited sex I’d watched with voyeuristic thrill through my lenses. The kind of hot, nail-me-to-the-wall sex I fantasize about but never come close to experiencing. God, how I want the experience, but not with one of the vain lions my father kept pushing me to take as a mate.
Growing up, I witnessed my mother’s endless roller coaster of emotions, thanks to dear old dad. Every time he showed up to spend time with her, Mom walked on clouds…only to be dropped into the depths of hell when he left again to be with one of his other mates.
Not me. I refuse to live that way. To raise my children alone and let them believe that screwed-up way of life is normal. Nope, not happening.
Haidee took a quick look at the house, sighed heavily then set the binoculars on the blanket we shared. “What I want to know is how Sirena not only landed a liger but has managed to actually keep him with her so long?”
If I had the answer to that million-dollar question, I’d be a happy camper.
All lioness shifters learn two basic facts about males early on—they are inherently lazy and complete tomcats. No male feline stays with a female, not even one of his mates, longer than a month before getting the itch to move on. Typically the males last about half that time. Yet this male had been with Sirena since Christmas. Incredible!
“Sorry, Haidee, but your mom’s full of shit. No way is the guy holed up in there with Sirena a feline shifter. Because a feline would have gone off to chase tail long before now.”
“Then why would Sirena keep him around?” Haidee shot back. “If he’s not feline he can’t even get her off.”
Haidee had a good point. Sex with a regular human man does nothing for a female shifter. Men lack the essential bit of anatomy required to stimulate a female feline to orgasm or to result in pregnancy. As with their animal counterparts, male feline shifters have a barb beneath the heads of their cocks that extends during mating, stroking a female’s pleasure spot to both orgasm and ovulation. No barb—no orgasm or babies. This I knew for fact from multiple frustrating attempts at reaching satisfaction with regular human men and several high-tech vibrators.
My imagination provided all kinds of incentive to find a feline and get barbed. To finally feel the tingling sensation of those firm, flexible extensions raking over the walls of my pussy, electrifying nerve endings hungry for stimulation, driving me out of my mind with pleasure beyond anything I have ever known. Without the barb—a lifetime of ho-hum sex with no fireworks. Ever.
Laying on my belly, I dropped my head into my hands and groaned as my last thread of hope unraveled. “We’re doomed to one day be sister wives.”
“Our lives suck,” Haidee complained.
“The total crap purebred felines put up with is really sad. Don’t you agree, Carson?”
The unexpected deep masculine voice startled me. Scrambling around, I got my feet under me and turned, crouched low and ready to shift if need be. My jaw dropped wide open in shock. Standing a few feet behind us were two drool-worthy hunks, clearly brothers.
Twins?
They appeared identical but I noticed a few small differences. Hunk one, on the left, had a small white scar under his right eyebrow while hunk two’s eyes were darker, emerald green compared to his brother’s softer jade color.
“I’ll never understand why they buy into that bullshit the males feed them, Cam,” twin on the right said.
My fingers itched to be holding my Nikon. What I wouldn’t have given to shoot the vibrant males against the stark contrast of the rugged winter background. Both were tall, muscular, and possessed the most incredible multi-hued hair in every shade from platinum to black with streaks of red and mahogany. And then there were the twin fantasies running through my head, getting me hot and bothered. Being the filling in that twin sandwich would be pure bliss.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Excerpt from LOVE POTION #69 by Alexa Silver
Copyright © Alexa Silver, 2015
“Hi, Jenna. I come bearing food.” He held up a bag, and she figured he’d given Rebecca her portion. She watched, admiring his tall frame as he locked the door and fiddled with the “come back in an hour” sign, adjusting the numbers to the next hour.
“Hi, Keith,” she replied with a little smirk. He sure wasn’t bad to look at, and there were worse lunch partners to have by far.
“Rebecca said we should eat back in the kitchen. Just you and me?” he asked.
“Simple and free,” she shot back, quoting a lyric from one of their favorite songs. They were karaoke monsters who’d discovered a few shared favorite songs, mostly ’70s classics.
He turned back to her, regarding her with a little smirk of his own. “How…Valentiney,” he said, and she could feel him taking in her red sweater and the infinity scarf with gold hearts all over it. Okay, she was kind of a holiday cliché, but the sweater wasn’t so bad and at least she’d paired it with black jeans and boots.
“Unlucky in love has to look the part,” she shot back.
He’d removed his coat and the brown sweater he wore warmed the angular planes of his face, the jeans hugging his long legs. His eyeglasses had fogged up a little and he removed them, wiping the lenses on his sweater.
“You’re just going to smear them, Keith. Here, let me.” She had some cleaning wipes in her purse, under the counter. He came closer, handing her his glasses, green eyes adorably squinted, and she caught her breath at just how gorgeous he was, her hand shaking.
“Watch out!” His eyes widened just as she reached out, sweeping over the display of vials, skittering them across the glass display counter and…
“NO! That’s a couple hundred dollars’ worth of—Oh, shit!”
She grappled to catch the last few vials, but the first half dozen were toast. Keith lunged forward, head smacking the edge of the counter with a pained groan, and he bobbled one vial, but the rest crashed to the ground, shattering and sending up shards of perfume, glitter and glass.
“Watch out, Keith!” Even though she knew she was too late, Jenna lunged too, her booted heel slipping on the muck. With a yelp, she crashed on top of Keith, sending them both careening to the ground.
Great. Just great. Happy frickin’ Valentine’s Day!
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Excerpt from NAUGHTY BALLS by Suz deMello
Copyright © Suz deMello, 2015
Note: The short story is about two college basketball players who find themselves alone on V-Day evening. (M/F)
“I tell you what.” He was already close, and shifted so he was even closer.
I stared at his chest to avoid getting trapped by his gaze again. Not the best idea to avoid distraction. His chest was ripped like the rest of him and shiny with sweat. Not gross sweat. Sexy sweat.
I wanted to lick it.
I blinked, startled by the thought.
I wanted to lick Orlando Havens’ chest.
Actually, I wanted to do a lot more than lick Orlando’s chest.
He put a finger under my chin and raised my head so I’d have to look him in the eyes. His gaze was curiously intense. He said, “If we’re gonna play, someone oughta pay.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together.
He went on, “Let’s make a bet. You win, you get my manager’s name and number. I win, I…get…you.”
“You…what?” I was so far out of my depth I was drowning.
He grinned at me.
I breathed, felt, thought, then breathed again. Heavily. “That’s not exactly Sophie’s choice,” I said slowly. “But it’s a tough one.”
“Yeah?” His smile was a little smug and a lot sexy.
OMG. I realized with more than a little surprise that he was really interested in me. Not only as an athlete, but as a person.
As a woman.
Who’da thunk it? Not me.
I found myself grinning. “This is great. I win either way.” I looked him in the eyes again and allowed my eyelashes to flutter. “Don’t I?”
“So do I. I reckon I already won.”
“How’s that?”
“I didn’t know you liked me.”
My mouth dropped open. “Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”
He humphed. “A lot of people. And a lot of folks just wanna use me. You better look out for that, too, girl.”
“If anyone’s using me, I haven’t noticed.”
“You just got here, l’il Ms. Freshman. Come March Madness, people ’round here are gonna notice you even if you don’t bother noticing them. You’re gonna get hit on like you’re a punching bag.”
“Hm.” Nerves twitched in my belly. Starting to sweat, I unzipped my hoodie. “What do I do about it?”
“I’ll watch your back if you watch mine. If you want.”
“Oh, I want.” I again looked him square in the eyes. “I definitely want.”
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Cover Reveal - Naughty Hearts
Naughty Hearts
by the Naughty Literati
Stay tuned for more information coming soon
Stay tuned for more information coming soon
Thirteen Naughty Valentine’s Stories
from Amazon Bestselling Authors
including Contemporary, Dark Fantasy,
Menage, M/M, M/M/F, Paranormal, Sci-Fi,
Shape-shifter, Steampunk and Time Travel
Available for pre-order soon
Available for download in February
The Reaper’s Valentine by Charlotte Boyett-Comp
Love Potion #69 by Alexa Silver
My Valentine Lovers by Nicole Austin
Valentine’s Thief by Trinity Blacio
Valentime by Belle Scarlett
Delia’s Heartthrob by Regina Kammer
Two Into One Goes Fine by Lynne Connolly
Under The Hood by Lainey-Jo Charles
Buy Me A Rose by Francesca Hawley
Chocolate-Coated Reunion by Berengaria Brown
Cupid’s Curious Case by Marianne Stephens
Fifty Shades of Valentine by Katherine Kingston
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