Looking For a Few Good Readers Who Love Steamy #Romance

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Here's what you'll find in this HOT collection by the talented Naughty Literati authors and guest authors:

Terracotta Warriors by Berengaria Brown
Branden loves Sloan but he’s bisexual and craves a woman too. Will adding Naomi to the mix be a disaster or the solution they all need?

Dirty Diana by Francesca Hawley
It's Amateur Night at Gunnar Thorson's strip club and Diana Rav intends to rock his world. She’s lush and sensual with generous curves she’s not afraid to move. Not anymore. She’s learned to love her body and is out to win Gunnar back with a sexy lap dance.

An Unexpected Discovery by Regina Kammer
A Parthian princess searching for the lost throne of her kingdom engages the services of a palace eunuch and discovers a treasure far more precious.

Sinfully Hot by Tina Donahue
A hotter-than-sin reaper. A badass demon. Hell doesn’t get steamier than this.

Ice Queen by Nicole Austin
In school, he was the bad boy this good girl couldn’t have. At work, he’s the boss, I’m his intern. Oh, and his dad just married my mom. It’s so wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this, but I love it.

Peter’s Story by Suz deMello
One summer morning, Peter Fortune, Earl Darlingside, awakened beside a corpse. Accused of homicide, he must change his dissolute ways or face life in prison. Barrister Roxanne Fox, called Foxy Roxy, is charged with his defense. Will desire derail Peter's case?

Tattoo Witch by Kathy Kulig
At a seaside resort, Sam and Anita meet a mysterious owner of a tattoo shop, a witch whose magical tattoos grant scorching, kinky sex beyond their wildest fantasies—but there’s a catch. Each successive tattoo comes with a curse.

Dolphin Paradise by Kate Richards
Dr. Karen Barrow has no intention of falling into the bed of the most notorious ladies' man at Oleander College, but a week alone with him may be her undoing. After all, who will know what they do on Dolphin Paradise before the campers arrive for the summer?

Tropical Heat by Alice Gaines
A proper English miss, a rake, and a tropical island. Imagine what could happen.

BONUS NOVELLAS

Royal Alphas: One Night with the Alpha King by Belle Scarlett
When Senator Anya Fortune snubs His Royal Majesty’s wedding offer, Shade wonders what an Alpha King has to do to get the woman to notice him...Claim the one, hot night he’s given by law to change her mind, naturally. Let the game of hearts begin. Winner take all.

Summer Lovin’ by Nicole Austin
Cougar on the prowl, Larissa Cross is ready for a summer full of hot younger man lovin’. Rawr! Tattooed and pierced fireman JD Harmon is tempting prey but he intends to tame the wicked cougar and stake a claim on her heart.

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The Love of Tattoos – Are They Out of Style Yet?

I just got back from a trip to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. Great place, nice people, beautiful beaches. I even got to practice a little Spanish. At a beach resort, you’re going to see people in bathing suits and of course, more skin. So you’d expect to see more tats that usually are hidden by clothing. But I noticed an excessive amount of skin real-estate covered in colorful designs. A ton of tats.

Full arm and leg sleeves, complete back or chest designs, etc. Quite a few men and women were showing off their ink.

Tattoos were once thought to be a symbol of rebellion, and for many years they’ve been mainstream. While researching my story TATTOO WITCH for the Naughty Getaways- Eleven Sultry Stories, I read a few articles that said tattoos were peaking in popularity. Still in style, just not so rampant. It didn’t seem so in Punta Cana, unless these were old tats.

I overheard one lady in the pool discussing her tattoos and mentioned that she and four other girlfriends shared a tattoo. It’s an intricate Celtic knot design. Each woman’s tat is slightly different, missing one piece, but if you could superimpose all designs they would create a completed knot. I thought that said something about their friendship and a closeness they share.

Another lady had a detailed fantasy scene from one arm, across her back to her thigh. I had to wonder how did she decide on that design and what a commitment she'd made to offer her body to a tattoo artist as his canvas. Not to mention the trust and time involved, and expense.

I don’t have any tats, although I’ve considered a number of times to get one. I thought maybe a vine of orchids. Because I was married in St. Lucia and there were orchids in my bouquet. We almost didn’t make that trip because we left only five days after 9/11/2001. Once the airports opened we refused to let terrorists stop us from living. We were married on 9/20.

My other tattoo idea was of a dragonfly. I’ve always been fascinated by them. They remind me of lazy summer days at a lake in NJ where I grew up. I’d watch them land and admire the design in their wings. An author friend has a dragonfly tat and said they can only fly forward. Perhaps a way to say to leave troubles behind?

Do you have a tattoo? If not, what would you get if you did?

I invite you to check out TATTOO WITCH in Naughty Getaways – Seven Sultry Stories. These tats have special powers, but there’s a catch.

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/kp6vpxk
iBooks: http://tinyurl.com/kvx5hou
Nook: http://tinyurl.com/lqvhz95
Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/mjqatot

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Kindle Fire Winner!

Congratulations to Sarah from Milwaukee on winning the Kindle Fire loaded with books by the Naughty Literati authors. Our sincere thanks to all who entered and help us celebrate the release of Naughty Getaways: Eleven Sultry Stories.

Happy reading!

Romancing the Throne, or, The History of a Parthian Love Story by Regina Kammer

Naughty Getaways: Eleven Sultry Stories is out! And it includes my ancient world romance, “An Unexpected Discovery” set in Parthia, the kingdom to the east of the Roman Empire. My heroine, Roedogune, is based on an actual historic figure, a Parthian princess who, along with the Parthian imperial throne, was captured by the Romans during their invasion of Ctesiphon, the capital of the Parthian Empire.

Excerpt from Summer Lovin' by Nicole Austin

Bonus Novella
Part of the NAUGHTY GETAWAYS boxed-set, available now!

Naughty Getaways Ebook

Naughty Getaways in Print

Blurb:
Cougar on the prowl, Larissa Cross is ready for a summer full of hot younger man lovin’. Rawr! Tattooed and pierced fireman JD Harmon is tempting prey but he intends to tame the wicked cougar and stake a claim on her heart. 
*This previously published title has been revised and reedited*

Genre/theme: Older Woman/Younger Man, firefighter hero, cougar romance

Copyright ©Nicole Austin, 2017

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Larissa Cross cruised along the coast with the top down, a warm breeze rushing through her hair. She turned on satellite radio and cranked up the volume as Steven Tyler’s signature scream blasted from the speakers. There wasn’t a cloud in the bright blue sky and the weather forecasters had rated the day as a ten on the suntan scale.

A picture-postcard-perfect Florida day and a great way to kick off her new life. Well, her new summertime life anyway. In the fall it would be back to “Mrs. Cross” and the comfortable routine of teaching elementary school.

But this summer she was going to have fun! Her son had left for college so Rissa was living alone for the first time. She’d sold the house, bought and decorated a new condo, packed up her “teacher clothes” and shopped for a new wardrobe, traded the minivan for a cherry red convertible and got tattooed. Yup, she now sported a colorful butterfly on her right hip—just above the bikini line—to symbolize her metamorphosis from Army widow soccer mom to cougar on the prowl. Rawr!

When you put all the changes she’d made over the past year together it added up to a rather frightening conclusion—midlife crisis. Scary stuff!

Dios, where the hell did all those years go?

Next month she would hit the big four-oh. Pretty sad she’d waited this long to finally rediscover herself. Better late than never though!

The changes had all started with the first erotic romance book she’d read. Then her friend Cami had told her about having a younger lover and challenged Rissa to find a hot young guy or two over summer break.

She grinned at herself in the rearview mirror. Nothing appealed to her more than the prospect of conquering a challenge. She couldn’t wait to try out some of the erotic acts that had gotten her so hot and horny when she’d read all those steamy books.

A truck full of young guys honked and whistled at her as they sped by. Hmm…maybe the challenge wouldn’t be too difficult. These boys looked way too young but their appreciation still made her smile and gave her confidence a boost.

With a wave to the boys, she turned into the jam-packed parking lot for the public beach. As she claimed one of few available spaces at the back of the lot, her car sputtered, coughed and gave a loud hiss before the engine stalled.

“Oh great!”

Rissa knew next to nothing about cars, yet even she realized the smoke billowing out from under the hood meant bad news. She jumped out and raced to the front, intending to pop the hood. That’s when she noticed the flames.

Thankfully the pickup had pulled in behind her. The teenage boys who piled out to help were on the ball, whipping out cell phones and calling for reinforcements while warning others in the immediate area to stay back.

In the few agonizingly long minutes it took for the cavalry to arrive, Rissa convinced the boys to salvage the contents of her trunk. Once they had her lawn chair, overstuffed beach bag, umbrella, towels, cooler and her precious e-book reader on the side of the road it looked like someone was having a yard sale. Or more apropos—a fire sale.

“Mrs. Cross?” one of the boys tentatively inquired.

Oh no. He must be one of her former students. Didn’t that just make her day.

“Yes.” She slid the dark sunglasses down her nose and peered over the tortoiseshell frames at him.

“Remember me? Tyler James. I was in your class?”

Prior students always failed to realize how much they’d changed or how many kids she’d taught and expected her to remember them. She played along to make him feel better. “Oh my gosh. You sure have grown up, Tyler. How’s high school treating you?”

Once the others learned she was an elementary school teacher they became a band of protective alpha-males-in-training and stayed by her side, assisting her through the crisis.

In a flurry of flashing lights and blaring sirens, a fire truck, ambulance and police cruiser arrived. The firemen quickly set to work and extinguished the flames while the medics checked for anyone with injuries and the police wrote reports. By the time the firemen were done, her crispy car appeared ready for the junkyard.

What now, Miss Smarty-pants?

Should she call a tow truck? How the hell would she get back home? Anyone she could ask for a ride lived over the bridge, at least a half hour away. She was in no mood to sit and wait that long.

There would be so much to work out now. Thank goodness she had insurance. She’d have to get in touch with the agent to file a claim. Damn, she really loved that car. Her first non-family car in two decades. Now she’d have to shop for another and get a rental in the meantime.

Rissa plopped down on top of the cooler with a heavy sigh as her wonderful plans for the summer disintegrated. In need of some emotional support, she longed to call Cami.

What would she do in this situation?

A wicked grin tugged at her lips. Cami would tell her to check out the emergency workers and if possible get pictures. She’d also tell Rissa to flirt her ass off and get one of those hot young studs to take her home.

“Who owns the car?”

She looked up as one of the firemen headed in her direction while scribbling information on a battered clipboard.

“Uh…me. I do.”

Oh yes, I do. Please and thank you!

Damn, the man was gorgeous. Tall, at least six-one, with a shaved head. A bit of dark stubble covered his scalp, ran along his square jawline and above his mouth. A plump, sexy mouth. He had to be in his mid-twenties by her estimation. Not too young or old. Perfect age to pop her cougar cherry.

“Name?”

Yes, what is your name, hot stuff? Please tell me.

Broad shoulders blocked out the sun as he moved to stand before her. What she wouldn’t give to have him strip off the fire gear and let her ogle his body. From his solid build she guessed he had lots of yummy muscles. Maybe even a six-pack. She pictured running her fingers over his tanned skin, feeling the sinew ripple beneath her fingertips.

“That’s Mrs. Cross,” Tyler, her proud protector, stated. “She’s a teacher in Tampa. Elementary school.”

What a wonderful, helpful boy. Go away now, you brat.

The fire god nodded toward the police officer ready to ticket the boys’ pickup. “If that’s your truck, you might want to move it.”

“Aw crap,” one of the boys groaned. The group loped off, leaving Rissa alone with the hunk, whose sharply focused attention suddenly made her nervous and fidgety.

He might have been preoccupied earlier but now she had his undivided attention. Coal black eyes took a slow journey from the top of her head down her see-through cover-up, pausing at breasts nearly spilling out of tiny bright blue triangles before dipping down to linger on her tattoo then stroke along her legs. And boy did his gaze ever have the impact of a physical caress. Everywhere his eyes touched her skin tightened and long-ignored nerve endings tingled.

If he can do that with a look, imagine what he’d be able to do with those big, strong hands.

Excerpt from One Night With The Alpha King by Belle Scarlett

Bonus Novella
Part of the NAUGHTY GETAWAYS boxed-set, available now!

Naughty Getaways Ebook

Naughty Getaways in Print

Blurb:
When Senator Anya Fortune snubs His Royal Majesty’s wedding offer, Shade wonders what an Alpha King has to do to get the woman to notice him… Claim the one, hot night he’s given by law to change her mind, naturally. Let the game of hearts begin. Winner take all. *This previously published title has been revised and reedited*

Genre/theme: Other World, Sci-Fi, Fantasy

Copyright ©Belle Scarlett, 2017

Excerpt:

Somehow Anya heard the distant thunder of equine hooves over the shrill chatter of the excited maidens who lined both sides of the Promised One’s Road. It would not be long before Shade made his entrance at the top of the hill opposite the palace’s grand steps in the distance and began his solo procession down the center of it, walking his mount slowly to look over each of the hopeful maidens before making the choice for his queen.

The Barbarian guard standing at attention next to Anya looked as ridiculously out of place amidst the giggling female throng as he clearly felt. Anya could commiserate.

The over-eager Matron of the Harem was a plump, middle-aged giantess of a woman with a girlish air and an unfortunate propensity to giggle. She had been ecstatic when tasked with the responsibility of turning Anya from a drowned rat into a sultry beauty in record time.

She’d stuffed Anya into a hastily re-sized gossamer lavender gown left over from when the harem had been active. Anya tugged self-consciously at the snug bodice with the shockingly low neckline. Only two thin shoulder straps stood between the skimpy, flimsy bodice and gravity. Surely, if Anya moved the wrong way her breasts would spill out at any microt, and there was no back to the thing at all. Apparently, the Matron didn’t believe in undergarments, and so Anya was wearing nothing beneath the nearly see-through dress. Whatever the Matron of the Harem might exclaim otherwise, Shade would not be pleased.

In spite of repeated attempts at diplomacy and thoughtful debate to change the older woman’s mind about applying lip rouge and kohl eyeliner to Anya’s face, Matron excitedly threw open an ornate cabinet bursting with hundreds of little pots, sticks, ointments, perfumes, and tubes of cosmetics. She used them all on Anya’s face. The rotund woman gleefully painted Anya with a sure hand, nodding attentively all the while at Anya’s logical arguments why such efforts really weren’t necessary.

When Matron was finished, Anya looked into the reflection glass and almost didn’t recognize herself. A rich plummy color enhanced Anya’s lips and nails, and pearl gray shimmered on her lids. The kohl liner around her eyes made their violet color pop. The lotions Matron rubbed literally all over Anya gave her skin a satiny luminance. And she smelled like an entire jasmenia bush.

Matron slapped Anya’s hand away with an appalled look when Anya had tried to braid her wet hair into its customary coronet. Instead, Matron deftly dried Anya’s tresses and used a heated set of tongs to curl the strands into long, loose waves that hung dramatically over one shoulder below her waist. All the while, Matron cooed over Anya’s “exotic” foreign beauty. Even if she was, as Matron sighed sadly, “On the short side.”

If that wasn’t enough to make Anya grit her teeth, she also had to bite her tongue when Matron went on to relate all the royal harem gossip pertaining to Shade’s many “sexploits” and virtues as an inexhaustible lover, etcetera, etcetera, dating from his seventeenth summer when he came to manhood until he inexplicably dissolved the harem a yearon ago. That had certainly caused quite an uproar in the palace, Matron lamented. Clearly the woman had not had enough to occupy herself in an empty harem over the past yearon.

Now on the road, Anya heard a sudden cry of excitement go up in unison from the hundreds of eligible females of all castes that lined both sides of the avenue. The noise jerked Anya’s focus to the present. Shade appeared at the top of the hill astride his black steed precisely at golden hour, when the light of the dying day was at its most ethereal.

A hush fell over the crowd at the dynamic picture he made, bareheaded and dressed in a black riding tunic. The silver threading used to embroider his family crest on the dark material glinted in the sun’s rays. Fastened around the muscled column of his neck, a crimson half-cloak flapped behind him in the breeze. His mount snorted and pawed the ground impatiently with one front hoof.

From his vantage point on the hill he appeared to scan the crowd for a microt or two until he spotted her. Anya’s heart leapt in her chest, and she knew his had, too. Their eyes locked. Then Shade crouched over the beast’s neck and kicked his equine to a full gallop, charging full-tilt down the hill. Never once did he take his gaze from Anya’s.

The thudding of the hooves on the road matched the pounding of her blood. As the steed bearing Shade grew nearer, the crush of women surged forward against Anya’s back and pushed her part way into the road.

For a timeless moment it looked to her like the equine was almost on top her. She held her breath and closed her eyes. Then she stuck her hand up in the air, trusting Shade to pluck her safely from the struggling sea of females.

Shade snagged her wrist as he sped by and whisked her up to lay sideways in front of him on his saddle. He cradled her between his biceps, smelling of leather and soap and his own spicy scent.

“We’ll discuss what you’re almost wearing later, senator,” he growled in her ear.

She finally dared to open her eyes wide and clung to him, thrilling at their speed as scenery flashed by.

Mighty cheers rang out all over the packed grounds as Shade and Anya galloped to the palace steps. Shade reined the equine to a halt and dismounted. He swung her down from the saddle and carried her in his arms to the top step without breaking a sweat. He set her down on trembling legs and raised her hand to his lips before turning to quiet the crowd with look.

“By the decree of the first castes after The Disaster, I proclaim to all here present that I, a Barbarian Alpha Prime, choose this woman, Anya Fortune of Nisca, to be mine. I will vow to set her above all others as my match-mate. My Promised One. My queen. And, with her consent, I shall bind her life to mine and mine to hers on the morrow. We shall never be parted from that time unto death.”

In the hush that ensued, he turned to her with a smile so tender she blinked back the prick of tears. All eyes in the crowd followed his to her face and awaited her words of acceptance.

In the fading light of the day, Anya looked out at the horizon to where Mount Olympias was nothing more than a shadowy shape in the far distance and hesitated. Now came the most dangerous part of her plan. Barbarians were unpredictable when crossed. She could only hope Shade would keep his wits about him in the emotional maelstrom that was about to hit and do what she hoped he would do next.

She took a deep breath and tried to stop herself from shaking, but to no avail.

“No,” her voice rang out so all could her, but she didn’t take her eyes from Shade’s face. “I decline.”

Excerpt from Tattoo Witch by Kathy Kulig

Part of the NAUGHTY GETAWAYS boxed-set, available now!

Naughty Getaways Ebook

Naughty Getaways in Print

Blurb:
At a seaside resort, Sam and Anita meet a mysterious owner of a tattoo shop, a witch whose magical tattoos grant scorching, kinky sex beyond their wildest fantasies—but there’s a catch. Each successive tattoo comes with a curse.

Genre/theme: Paranormal, witch, magic, fantasy

Copyright ©Kathy Kulig, 2017

Excerpt:

“I think your lady is ready for another drink,” a tattooed guy said with a friendly tone. “Mind if my wife and I buy you two a drink?”

Anita stopped slurping the remnants of her cocktail and gave Sam a warning look. He loved his girlfriend dearly, but wished she wasn’t quite so conservative. This couple was just being friendly. But why did they decide to sit next to him and Anita?

Stop assuming the worst. Sam Quinn was used to expecting the worst in people—a side effect from working airport security. Terrorists at Seacrets were likely a low-risk concern. Perhaps this couple did have ulterior motives, like wife swapping. That wasn’t exactly Sam’s kink, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun chatting with them. “A drink? That’s nice of you to offer,” Sam said. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s our pleasure,” the woman added. “I’m Rene and this is my husband, Perry. We’re from Baltimore.” She rested her hands on the bar. On the back of Rene’s hand was a detailed rose tat. It looked 3D. Ink designs covered Perry’s hands too.

Sam introduced himself and Anita. Anita gave him a kick. He was going to get hell later, but the intricate detail of Rene’s tattoo was mesmerizing.

“Have you tried Swamp Water?” Perry asked Anita.

She looked confused.

“They’re good. They’re coconut rum, pineapple juice and Curaçao. Try one,” Rene said as she waved to the bartender and ordered two and a couple beers.

“We were about to leave, right Sam?” Anita shot him a look.

“Oh, you can hang for a drink,” Rene said. “It’s still early.”

Anita scowled at her murky green drink when it arrived but didn’t argue with Rene. Taking a sip, she smiled. “Mmmm. It is good.”

“What kind of work do you do, Sam?” Perry asked.

“TSA agent.”

“Interesting.” Perry locked his gaze with him. Red flags waved in the back of Sam’s mind.

As a TSA agent, Sam had an uncanny gift of reading people’s eyes, expressions and body language. Something in Perry’s gaze alarmed him. If someone had looked at him like that while going through his TSA check point, he would give them a pat down. What were his eyes telling him? A warning? Fear? A challenge or threat? Sam couldn’t figure it out. Something wasn’t right about these two. Or maybe he needed this vacation more than he thought.

“I’ve been admiring your tattoos,” Sam said as he watched their expressions. “Excellent work. It must’ve taken a long time to have those done. Were they all by the same artist?”

Perry and Rene exchanged a look. “Yes, she’s local,” Perry said. “On the boardwalk.”

“I don’t remember a tattoo parlor and we come here often.” Anita had sucked down half her drink. “What do you have on your neck?” she asked Perry.

Perry got up and sat on the stool next to her. Turning his head to the side, he elongated his neck, offering Anita a better view. “What would you call it?”

“It’s a dragon. A magnificent dragon. Look at all the colors.” While Perry pointed out his various tattoos, Rene showed the vine of roses coiling up her arm.

“Do the tats have specific meanings or stories?” Sam asked. “They’re very detailed.”

She laughed out loud. “Sort of.”

He noticed a shadow of sadness drift across Rene’s face. Anita was oblivious to his conversation. The designs on the man’s forearms enthralled her. She was literally staring. Fuck.

“Do you think tattoos are sexy?” Rene asked seductively.

“I guess.” He forced himself not to look at her deep cleavage and the tats that decorated her skin there. Man, he needed to take Anita back to the hotel and fuck her brains out before she got wasted on Swamp Water.

“How about mine?” Rene ran her hands over her arms, then stroked the tops of her breasts.

“Yes, I’d say so,” Sam replied. Holy shit, she was flirting with him. “There.” Rene eased the sleeve of Sam’s tee shirt up over his shoulder. “You have nice biceps and shoulders. The perfect place for tats.” Her fingernail drew imaginary designs on his arm.

He studied her with the narrowed gaze he reserved for troublemakers at the airport and added a cocky smile. “Think so?”

“Yes,” she breathed, leaning closer. “Men also look hot with tats on their calves and thighs. Her hand dropped to his knee, just below his cargo shorts. Would she slide those up too? His cock stirred. How much had she drunk?

Anita laughed. Sam glanced at Perry flexing his arm, making a scorpion tat appear to crawl. His girlfriend was amused.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tat?” Rene asked Sam with a sultry, teasing tone. “Or maybe you have one hidden?” She removed her hand from his knee. Sam released his breath. “No. I’ve thought about getting one. But I don’t have any.” Damn, it was getting warm. Was Rene coming on to him with her husband right there? He glanced back at Anita again. She was having another Swamp Water. Terrific.

“You should get one. You and your lady,” Rene said. “We get ours at Sinful Designs on the boardwalk. They do the best work.”

Ah, now he got it. “I suppose you two work there? Or own the business.”

She laughed. “You think we’re trying to drum up sales?”

Sam nodded.

“No, nothing like that. But there is something special about Sinful Designs that you won’t find at any other tattoo parlor.”

“Is that right?” Sam called over the bartender and ordered another beer and a drink for Rene. “Don’t take this the wrong way but are you two hitting on us?”

“Not exactly,” Perry said, looking up from his show-and-tell for Anita. “We saw you watching us earlier—”

“And you thought we’d like to hook up with you two,” Sam finished the sentence, sounding slightly annoyed but intrigued.

“That’s not it,” Rene said. “But I bet you wished you were out there having the most amazing sex with Anita. Am I right?”

“Sure,” Sam said.

Anita smiled nervously, then sipped more of her drink.

“What if I told you there was a way to increase your sexual enjoyment by at least ten times, be more adventurous, have longer hard-ons, and multiple orgasms?” Rene looked at Anita. “Anita, wouldn’t you love to have multiple orgasms whenever you willed them to happen?”

Anita rolled her eyes. “I have orgasms.”

“Four or five in one night, without being touched?”

“I’d say you’re full of shit,” Anita said.

Sam nearly choked on his beer. Anita Brooke never swore in front of strangers. She was getting drunk. Damn, he wasn’t getting any tonight.

“Do you believe in magic, the supernatural?”

“I try to keep an open mind.” Sam didn’t want to discount anything. But more than that, he wanted to see where this was going.

“Try one of these tattoos at Sinful Designs. Just one. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” Rene paused. “Don’t be surprised if you go back for more like we did.” Eyes wide, she glanced around the night club’s grounds, looked over her shoulder, then forced a smile. There was no hiding that look of terror. Cold fear flashed across her eyes. What had her so afraid? She didn’t look the type to scare easily. A shiver slid down Sam’s spine.

“Sounds too good to be true,” Sam said as he briefly fantasized a few possibilities—sex on the raft, sex with this couple, and a few positions Anita wasn’t crazy about trying. His cock throbbed as his heart pounded in his chest. The woman didn’t look like she was lying. Was business that bad that this tattoo parlor would think up this fantastical story to bring in a few customers?

Rene placed a hand on his arm. “Honest, Sam, we don’t make out financially if you get a tattoo. We’re just amazed by this woman. She’s a witch you know. Her name is Cassandra.”

“A witch?” Anita asked.

Rene smiled at Sam. “Trust me. You will have the most scorching sex you could ever imagine.”

Excerpt from Peter's Story by Suz deMello

Part of the NAUGHTY GETAWAYS boxed-set, available now!

Naughty Getaways Ebook

Naughty Getaways in Print

Blurb:
Peter Fortune, Earl Darlingside, awakened beside a corpse. Accused of homicide, he must change his dissolute ways or face life in prison. Barrister Roxanne Fox, called Foxy Roxy, is charged with his defense. Will desire derail Peter’s case?

Genre/theme: Contemporary, British aristocracy, AA, alcoholic recovery

Copyright ©Suz deMello, 2017

Excerpt:

Chapter One

One cool, bright summer morning, Peter Fortune, Earl Darlingside, awakened in a big, four-poster bed covered with a fluffy white duvet with a woman beside him. She was dead.

Until that moment, he’d been doing quite well, thank you very much, considering that he’d spent the night before drinking Remy Martin Black Pearl with a number of equally dissolute young noblemen and getting drunk as, well, drunk as lords. He should have had a throbbing head, unclear eyesight and a belly that pitched like bloody hell, but he felt great. And, given that he’d won rather than lost betting on billiards was another point in favor of the day.

Which was, he remembered blearily, Monday, perhaps? Or maybe Tuesday. Did it matter?

The window was open to the Hampstead sunshine and also admitted birdsong. Every once in a while he heard the sound of a distant siren, reminding him of...of…?

Oh yes, the dead girl.

Melanie.

He supposed he ought to call 9-9-9 and get an ambulance, though judging by her total lack of movement and warmth, the authorities would get to her too late. Far too late.

He rolled to the side, reaching for the bedside table where his mobile reposed. Something jabbed his arse, and he threw back the sheet to find a used syringe. A needlestick from an addict’s rig. Oh, shite, I’m fucked. He grabbed the thing and flung it across the room, then called for help.

*****

She’d been called Foxy Roxy for as long as she could remember, but she hadn’t embraced the nickname until her fifteenth birthday. That day she’d visited a charity shop with friends. One had spotted an old fox stole on a mannequin and bought it for Roxanne Fox as a gift. She’d worn that fox pelt around her neck on cool days until it had fallen apart, then bought another and then another. Only from the charity shops, though—she wouldn’t be directly responsible for the death of an innocent animal. Later she’d found a source for high-quality fakes, which fit her vegan habits far better.

This morning, she was nibbling a gluten-free currant scone slathered with soya cream cheese whilst enjoying her second flat white of the day (made with soya of course), reading a fairly interesting case file about a fellow who had been recorded by the many CCTVs roundabout London. Unfortunately for the client, he’d been taped with his zip open whilst fondling an impressive erection. Even less fortunately, the Crown was not amenable to letting the incident go by even though he claimed he’d been “pissed legless.”

Roxanne’s secretary stuck her head into the open doorway, her eyes round. “That prat Darlingside has gotten himself arrested again.”

“Oh, happy day.” Roxy wiped her mouth with a hanky. “What is it this time? Dead drunk? Car crash?”

“No, it’s more serious. Unless someone’s having a go at us.”

“Not chundering onto some poor copper’s shoes?” That had been a memorable case.

“No, murder.”

Roxy sat up straighter. She’d been White, Cheshire and Queen’s criminal defense specialist for four years, having left the Crown Prosecution Service to pursue more lucrative options. At WCQ, she’d had the opportunity to sample a more varied menu of cases than she’d expected. Along with the anticipated tax avoidance schemes and family squabbles regarding bequests—which occasionally devolved into wine-throwing and fistfights—a prominent client occasionally committed the odd sexual peccadillo, like the fellow diddling his dong in Notting Hill.

And then there was Peter Fortune, the Earl of Darlingside, who seemed intent upon imitating his parents’ strikingly self-destructive ways.

Bless him—he’d brought her a case she could really sink her teeth into. “Where’s he being held?”