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Monstrous Kink

Available from Loose Id

The kingdom of Krim is unlike any place on earth. Spellbound more than a millennium ago it is hidden away from the world. Only those whose ultimate desires lie within its borders can enter. Zacharias is the king of Krim, the beloved gargoyle Krim Guardian, and by All Hallows’ Eve he must marry and mate with a human bride to keep his crown. There’s just one problem. Zacharias hasn’t felt desire for anyone in over two centuries. That is until he spots darkly enchanting Mila. Now all he feels is lust.

Tempting and wicked, Mila has always lived her life on the edge. A vagabond photographer she’s never stayed in one place long enough to commit. Then life drops her on Zacharias’s doorstep. There’s something about the chestnut-haired giant that calls to her. And she is more than woman enough to answer. In one another’s arms they discover the kind of ultimate satisfaction that only a Domme and sub can experience.

But a malevolent power does not want the couple to get together, and it will stop at nothing, not even murder to make sure the union never happens.

Monstrous Kink Excerpt

For weeks now Zacharias had tried to pretend that fall wasn’t coming now simply because it meant that All Hallows’ Eve was right around the corner. The problem was Zacharias hadn’t found a female that appealed to him in over two hundred years, but in less than two weeks he had to find a woman and bed her.

That was going to be no problem at all.

Less than twenty minutes later he stood in the midst of a human meat market. All around him females were parading their wares, hoping to be purchased or, in this case specifically, wed.

He glanced at a woman across from him. She was the comeliest of the girls on display. Her smile was vivid and shocking. Her hips were small and graceful. Her breasts were large and firm. She was a woman of perfection. Even in the long dress she wore, Zacharias could see the woman’s legs were long and shapely. Arianna was an exceptional woman.

Too bad the sight of Arianna’s ruby lips made him want to snarl. It should have made him happy, excited…aroused. But it did none of the above. It made him want to howl at the moon.

The woman was beautiful, sexy, and desirous, but she wasn’t what he needed. No, she was another woman in a long line of women who could never satisfy his needs. His gaze moved down the line, looking at the many women the villagers had lined up for him. Not one of the women appealed to him.

“You have chosen one on your own?” The voice belonged to the wizened witch priest who had gathered the women for his perusal.

“No,” Zacharias said with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair as he eyed the women. One had to be better than the others. One of them had to appeal to him, right?

“I will choose one for the Black Crescent Moon.”

“You will choose one now.”

Zacharias’s green eyes darkened at the priest’s bold words. “I will choose one when I am ready. Never think to tell me what to do, human.”

The priest backed up at his growling tone. He knew he’d overstepped the boundaries. He had no right to tell the Krim Guardian what to do, but the old man knew of Zacharias’s…issue with the opposite sex.

For some time Zacharias had felt there was something unnaturally wrong with him. It wasn’t that he liked men. He loved women. Zacharias just didn’t get aroused. He had even sought out the priest’s knowledge on the subject, only to find he had not been cursed. Zacharias just had not found a woman to stir his blood in centuries. The priest attempted to appease him when a loud commotion broke through Zacharias’s thoughts.

The whole room turned around at the sound of the boom.

Zacharias slowly rose from his throne. The crowd parted as he made his way toward the source of the commotion. The priest reached out one feeble hand. His fingers almost touched the thick wool jacket Zacharias wore.

Zacharias turned and stared at the weathered hand seconds before it would have reached him. It stopped instantly. He turned back and caught a glimpse of bright red fabric before the villagers swarmed and blocked his view.

Zacharias didn’t realize he’d growled until he saw the villagers scatter and run. They parted and allowed him a view of the newcomer.

She turned toward him and smiled.

He took a deep breath, taking in the scent and sight of the woman before him.

Her midnight hair was in disarray. Her bright red wool coat was dirty and stained. There were black coal streaks on her cocoa face, and her matching leather suitcases were ripped.

She looked like hell.

He took another step toward her.

“Hi there,” she said with a fluttering wave. “Thank goodness I stumbled onto this place. I was so lost and scared and then my car broke down and I –” She stopped suddenly. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “Jesus, you’re a big one,” she muttered.

Zacharias took a deep, steadying breath and smiled back at her. His eyes almost immediately narrowed. Her scent was thick and strong. She wore perfume, lovely smelling perfume, but beneath that was her scent and it called to him.

Zacharias took another whiff of the woman and rolled it over his tongue. It tasted like perfection. It tasted like home. And it made him feel.

Heat coursed through his veins. Arousal spread through every inch of his body, and desire like nothing he’d ever felt before consumed him.

“I guess I’m not in Kansas anymore,” she said with a soft chuckle.

“No, you’re not. You’re home,” he responded.

PURCHASE BOOK!

Violet Storm

Available from Changeling Press

Storm Night is not like other magical creatures. She is a mixed breed. Blessed with the gifts from her mother, a flower fair, and her father, a Nightstalker Cyclops, she feels she is perfect.

Too bad not everyone agrees.

In celebration of her entrance to the OtherKin realm’s most prestigious school of medicinal wizardry, she and her best friend Mira intend to party the night away at Yellow Brick, the hottest club in the realm.

Sipping her drink, minding her business, she hears him and his friends. They are talking about her. They are… intrigued by the fact that she is a Breed. To Storm’s horror, Isaias bets five thousand cipros he can get her to kiss him by the end of the night.

Storm is willing to play along to a point. Yellow Brick is not like other clubs. It has special rooms for its most cherished patrons. With a spell card that allows her downstairs, Storm is armed and ready. She has every intention of making sure that the beautiful, blond royal elf realizes that it’s not nice to play games with a woman’s emotions. Especially when the woman is not opposed to doing every naughty, dirty, erotic trick in the book to make you scream.

Violet Storm Excerpt

***

He was devastatingly handsome. He appeared to be anywhere from twenty-five to thirty summers. His wavy bright blond hair begged a girl to run her fingers through it. The blue eyes shining down on me asked for my forgiveness at the same time that they promised me naughty, naughty things. And his lips made me dream of endless erotic kisses.

His deep blue eyes twinkled with mischief and his full lips turned up at the corner. He was trying hard not to smile. Or laugh. I turned away. I had no desire to be the butt of his joke.

“Hey,” he called before jumping off the stool and coming to stand in front of me.

“I’m not interested,” I said before turning to face the other side. Wet panties or not, I still had my pride.

He grabbed my stool and turned it around. I found myself facing his handsome beauty once again. He stepped between my legs. With his hands still on my stool, I was caged by his sinewy arms.

“I said I’m not interested,” I growled. I kept my eyes on his chest. Something told me looking up was dangerous. He was just too damned good looking for my own good.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t tease me.”

At his words, I felt the anger I had tried to keep tampered down bubble out of control. Tease him? He was the one playing the games.

“I’m not teasing. I’m not interested,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I just want a dance, just one dance.” The smile that had been hiding came out in full view. He had a breathtaking smile, the kind that could really disarm a woman.

Damn! I knew I shouldn’t have looked up. Pretty faces got me every time.

“One dance.” I placed my empty glass on the bar behind me. He grabbed my other hand and pulled me onto the dance floor. I blinked at the surge of intense heat when he touched me. It was as if he had shoved me in an oven. I felt this desperate need to do something… dangerous.

I took a deep breath and blew it out. Any cooling effects it had were immediately dissipated when his long, muscular arm snaked around my waist. He pulled me so that my breasts were flattened against his hard chest. I tried to pull away. He pressed me closer.

I stared up at him and flattened my hands against his chest. I opened my mouth to say something. I was getting ready to give it to him when he spoke. “My name is Isaias.”

I glared up at him. I was angry as hell that I was attracted to him. And to top it off he made me feel obligated to tell him my name. “Storm,” I muttered and turned to glance at the couple beside us. I did not want to look at his face.

“Uniquely beautiful.”

I ignored his comment. At least I tried hard as hell to ignore what he said, tried to pretend he hadn’t spoken, but the compliment washed over me dispelling some of my righteous anger.

I was disconcerted to find I was close enough to feel the soft rumble that went through his chest when he spoke. I pulled back. His large, long fingered hand moved to my hips and pressed me against him.

I couldn’t help the gasp that came from my lips. I was so close I could feel him. I blushed when I realized he was aroused.

“I like the way you move,” he whispered against my neck. I shivered and broke out in goose bumps. His breath felt so good, so warm and for just one second I dreamed he kissed me on my neck.

“Tell me about yourself. Tell me a little about the lovely woman named Storm.”

I stilled in his arms, nearly causing a six couple pile up as those around us stumbled. I glanced up at him. “Excuse me?”

“I want to get to know you.”

“Why?” One midnight eyebrow cocked with disbelief. I had heard him and if there was one thing a Cyclops trusted it was her hearing.

“For the same reason every heterosexual male wants to know a female.”

I snorted and stepped out of his arms. As if I was going to believe that one of the charmed ones was attracted to a mixed breed? “Look, I know exactly why you want to get to know me and the answer is no.”

He froze. “What are you talking about?”

The shock on his face made me want to scream. Then and there I decided not to show him my cards. It was his bet and if he wanted to pretend this game of seduction was for real, I would play along. But on my terms.

“Have you ever been downstairs?” I asked.

Purchase Book!

Bio:Devyn Quinn lives in the scenic Southwest, though she has called several other states home. She is a huge fan of dark gothic literature, and read tons of books on history and biographies. She especially enjoys reading books on Hollywood before the 1960′s. Now divorced (happily so), Devyn lives with her cats, four ferrets (yes, four!), and Shih Tzu, Tess.Devyn debuted as a Kensington Books author with Flesh and the Devil in March 2007. Though she writes in both the contemporary and gothic genres, lately Devyn’s attention has turned to very dark erotica. Most of her full length novels focus on the struggle of the ordinary person to accept extraordinary happenings in their lives-usually from a supernatural source. It is why she has recently tagged her writing “goth-erotica” and where she will focus her attention on her next single title releases with Kensington’s Aphrodisia line. She currently has 7 more releases in the pipeline, including her Kith & Kynn books, Sins of the Flesh (Oct 07) and Sins of the Night (April 08).

Forthcoming titles:

Eros Island Anthology(Feb 08)
Sins of the Night (April 08)

FLESH AND THE DEVILBy DEVYN QUINNKENSINGTON BOOKS

Copyright © 2007 Devyn Quinn
All right reserved.
ISBN: 9780758216533

Chapter One

Taste the forbidden. The hunger was there.

The game he was playing was dangerous, but Brenden Wallace couldn’t help himself. Part of the thrill of working undercover vice was the ability to live out the erotic fantasies he’d never risk trying in real life.

Brenden hardly dared to move. He didn’t even breathe. Closing his eyes, he relished the smooth glide of silk circling his wrists. The soft bite of the fabric into his skin sent a chill whispering down his spine.

The touch of a fingertip tracing the curve of one ear caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to rise. A voice of smoky rich timbre drawled, “Too tight?”

Brenden licked parched lips. “Tighter, honey. I want to feel the burn.”

A tug on the scarf answered. Tightening. Binding. “Better?”

Arms stretched around the back of the chair he sat in, Brenden tested the strength of the knots. They held, solid and unyielding. The material chafed, a not-so-unpleasant sensation. “Yes.”

His captor reappeared. The woman was a paid escort, hired for the evening. The service she worked for charged three hundred dollars for the pleasure of her company. He knew her business, didn’t know her name, but by the look of her, she was worth every penny.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. His penis stirred, cramped in the confines of his tight jeans. How far would this one go to entertain a lonely man? Having kinky sex wasn’t illegal in Louisiana. It was only criminal if cash traded hands for erotic favors. Then it was prostitution.

And someone had to get arrested.

Looking at her, his thoughts veered from professional to personal. Tall and slim, she wore a tight, red dress, clinging to every lush curve and perfectly matching her bright red stiletto fuck-me pumps. No longer tied up with the scarf matching her outfit, her black hair cascaded around her shoulders like the spread of a raven’s wings.

That scarf was around his wrists.

Taste the forbidden. To play his role believably, Brenden had to live it.

She smiled. “You like playing dangerous games?” Her parted lips revealed perfectly white teeth. The cuspids were slightly elongated and came to neat points, enhancing her hovering feline quality even more.

Heavy awareness pulsed through his veins. “It’s part of the thrill that makes life worth living.”

His words seemed to amuse.

She bent, parting his legs. As if lit from inside, she radiated heat that practically screamed wanton female. Screamed it loud enough to arouse the male animal in him to an unbearable degree. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the thin fabric of her dress clung to her nipples, outlining their prominence.

Her warm palms moved up his inner thighs. “Maybe. Maybe not. The things we think are deadly sometimes really aren’t.” She guided the tip of her tongue to tease an incisor. “And the things we think safe are sometimes most deadly.” Her words were menace cloaked in crushed velvet.

The intimate contact jarred. She was so close Brenden could smell her heat, the scent of her arousal. Potent and mysterious, the cloying odor was enhanced by the addition of some exotic oil. His erection pressed, thick and hard, against his tight jeans. Closing his eyes, he shifted in his seat, letting a ragged breath escape. Say one wrong word, make one false move and the entire investigation would be blown.

Concentrate, asshole.

Brenden opened his eyes, ready to take the plunge. It was all or nothing. “I’m willing to take that chance.”

Pleased, she moved closer. Eyes the color of the sea shimmering under a midnight sky drew him in. Her fiery cinnamon lips were just inches away, slightly parted, moist and utterly enticing. “Are you really?”

“I’m ready for anything.” He imagined her teeth raking down his most sensitive flesh. He had the feeling she could cause a lot of pain, and make it last in the most delicious of ways.

She glanced toward his crotch, his obvious arousal. “Do you want me?” Her hands were close, but not close enough to make contact. She was playing the tease for all it was worth.

“God, yes …” Why lie? His body betrayed him. He’d already gone too far, torching every rule in the book. The lines between legal and illegal were blurring, the raw and open connection between them growing personal. What was wrong was beginning to feel too enticingly right.

She leaned in closer, pinning him down with an intensity that caused his skin to prickle. Brenden felt as if he was not just being probed, but explored. Every breath he drew singed his lungs. “I know what you crave.” Her fingernails dug into his thighs, marking him as her own. “That secret desire gnawing at your heart is unsatisfied. I feel it inside you, waiting to be freed. Your soul is crying out for a fulfillment you dare not ask for.”

Her words were spellbindingly, achingly true.

Feed the fetish. Aching with the need to climax, the notion was there. Hovering. Tempting.

Beckoning. Taste the forbidden. His own secret mantra thundered through his skull, pressured by the painful hammering of blood driven by lust. Body shuddering with excruciating sensitivity, he lost his grip. Want exploded into need. There was no turning back. “Show me how.”

“You start like this.” Her lips brushed his, tongue sliding easily past his lips, melding them together.

Protest died an easy death as control slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

Lost in the liquid pleasure, Brenden parried her thrusts, enjoying the tangle of mouth on mouth. Who was kissing or being kissed, he didn’t care. No matter the consequences, he knew he’d wanted this to happen since she’d walked through the door, wanted this woman more than anything. Even his career.

Her tongue speared again, claiming and conquering, exploring every crevasse.

Brenden’s cock surged, all molten heat and devouring hormones. Penetrated to the core. Pleasure gripped and squeezed him. Given free reign, carnal desire overrode his sanity. Everything missing in his life suddenly solidified into one defining thought: he needed this woman. He made the decision, prepared to sell his soul for a single night in her bed.

His hired escort wasn’t buying. Murmuring something against his mouth, she ended the kiss. Warm lips trekked across his cheek. Her fingers brushed his long blond hair away from his ear. Her sharp tone shot a quick barb. “The only one getting fucked tonight is you.”

Astonishment struck a sledgehammer blow. His stomach clenching around icy shards, Brenden’s heart plummeted. Anxiety tied him into knots tighter than those around his wrists. Oh, Christ. Surely she hadn’t …

She had.

Brenden forced himself to meet her steady stare. Her face grew rigid, a smile of bitchy amusement frozen on her lips: half mischief, half naughty dominatrix. “The next time you want me to tie you up, Officer, ask for it on your own time.”

Brenden sat for a moment, stunned, struggling to make sense of her words. When they finally did sink in, he started to rise. The chair came with him. Muttering a curse under his breath, he sat back down. Game. Point. Match. He’d been bested by a pro.

Stepping back, she pivoted on one slim heel. Claiming her purse from the nearby bureau, she walked to the door where she paused and turned. Her nose crinkled and a smile edged around the corners of her mouth. “I believe you have my number.”

SINS OF THE FLESHBy DEVYN QUINNAPHRODISIA BOOKS

Copyright © 2007 Devyn Quinn
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-2017-2Chapter OneWarren, CA, Present Day

Once again, the night had come to its end. Dawn’s grasping fingers had seized the earth’s horizon, refusing to let the darkness have one more hour than necessary. Pale pink lashings began to illuminate the edges of the night’s sky. All too soon the merciless sun would rule again.

Sprawled across a chaise lounge, Devon Carnavorn swirled the last of the sherry in his glass. “Another night gone,” he muttered under his breath. “Wasted.”

Clothing askew, reeking of sexual musk, he glanced around his den. A proliferation of naked bodies filled the space around him. The odor of bodies in motion fused with the cloying scent of sandalwood incense, burned in such quantity the air hazed. The sexes not only seemed mingle, but merge. Though no music played, several danced together in rhythmic slow motion. Others more engrossed in pleasure had commandeered sofas, chairs, even the floor to engage in heated lovemaking. Locked in intimate embrace, hands and mouths explored every inch.

Devon signed, frowning in displeasure. “It’s getting to where I can’t tell one night from the last.” His life had turned into a big blur. He wasn’t even really living. He simply existed.

Disgusted, he stood up, nearly tripping over the naked woman sprawled on the rug at his feet. Vague recognition registered. He’d fucked her. More than once, anally, orally, and in every other position he could think of.

Closing his eyes on a memory he didn’t care to recall, his mouth twisted into a grimace of displeasure. The sight of her nude body did nothing to arouse him. He wondered what he’d seen in her beyond a tool to sate his hunger.

A low growl broke from his lips. “Nothing, damn it. Nothing.” Instead of feeling satisfied, all he felt was hollow. The woman meant nothing, had made no impression. He didn’t even know her name. In a few hours he wouldn’t even remember her face. “God forgive me.” A mean, grating laugh escaped him. “I never thought I’d be bored with immortality.”

A bitter utterance, but true.

Devon’s lips flattened into a hard line. Everything that should have been right in his life was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Feeling the closing of the walls around him, the pressure of too many living, breathing bodies, he needed to get out. If he didn’t he’d start screaming. And never stop.

Pausing only to refill a glass emptied with alarming regularity nowadays, Devon wove his way toward the French doors leading into the back gardens.

Stepping outside, cool air scented with a fine morning’s dew filled his nostrils. His head cleared a bit. Only the smallest of headaches remained.

Sipping his sherry, Devon watched the day begin its advance, wiping away shadows with a cruel hand. The quiet hours before the rest of the world awakened were the times he felt the loneliest, felt the emptiness inside the soul he’d pledged to the darkness. Soon, he’d have to seek shelter. During the day, his energies and paranormal abilities waned. As long as he stayed shielded he could move around with a fair amount of freedom, dashing from car to building unscathed should he have to venture out.

Lately, though, he’d toyed with the idea of not seeking sanctuary from the day.

Suicide tempted, but he’d always held back. Not because he wasn’t strong enough. He didn’t have to be strong to walk into the sun’s light. He’d just walk, until the flesh had burned from his bones and his skin crumbled to dust. Such a death would be painful. Perhaps even a well-deserved penance.

Ariel had died, and he had survived.

Devon took a step forward, then a second. He couldn’t take a third.

He stopped. Shaking the idea of self-immolation loose from its moorings, he stored it instead in that

secret place in the recesses of his mind. The Kynn were few and far between. The Amhais, the shadow stalkers, operated effectively. Driven by religious fanaticism, the vampire-hunters simply wouldn’t let up or back off. He’d had one too many close calls himself. The human assassins were expert and all too willing to die for their cause.

To the Amhais, a vampire was a vampire. And vampires must be slain.

Air vanishing from his lungs, Devon felt his throat tighten. An icy shiver slid down his spine. Almost a century had passed since he’d lost Ariel to those ignorant fools.

Though hardly a man to weep and gnash his teeth in grief, he was given to days of deep depression, often seeing only futility in the long existence he now considered to be a curse. Immortality meant nothing when the time was spent alone, making his sire’s loss no easier to bear. He thought he’d moved on since that time. He hadn’t.

Devon closed his eyes. Just thinking of how Ariel had died made his head throb, the glass in his hand tremble. Fearing he’d faint, he lifted ice-cold fingers to his eyes, pressing hard against his lids. He and Ariel hadn’t been together long, but the mark she’d left on him was indelibly etched on his brain like acid on glass.

Ariel had been his sire. His lover. She’d been everything.

They’d planned an eternity together. They’d had less than a decade. He’d never found another female who even came close to replacing her. The women who came into his life nowadays were just faces-bodies really. Drifting through, leaving no impression on his mind or his heart.

Once a hedonist in the fullest sense, there had been a time in his life when he couldn’t restrain himself from seeking out sin. It was his nature. Life was meant to be enjoyed, the temptations of this earth too many.

Time had passed, though. Times had changed. Humans aged, grew old, died around him. Technology had changed, geography had shifted, cultures met and merged. Keeping up had never been a problem.

Until now.

At some point Devon couldn’t quite identify, entropy had set in. The rot had wound around his senses and woven its poisonous vines around the very fibers of his being. The twin beasts of lust and greed had finally turned on him. Too much of a good thing didn’t enhance. It decayed. Thirty-four when he’d ceased aging, he was barely through the first half of his second century. The life he’d once vowed to seize now bored him stiff.

Well, hell. Everything seemed wrong and nothing felt right. Were immortals supposed to have a mid-century life’s crisis? Somehow he didn’t think gold chains and a Lamborghini would solve this one.

Devon eyed the dangerous sun. His stomach suddenly felt queasy, his knees weak. So hot a moment ago, he now felt stone cold. Perspiration soaked his shirt, dotting his forehead. “You and I may yet be meeting again.”

A voice from behind broke through. “Sir?”

Devon turned. Simpson, his manservant and closest confidant, stood behind him. Discrete and utterly reliable, Simpson could be counted on to do his job, his eyes open, his mouth shut.

Devon swallowed hard. Whether in relief or disappointment he couldn’t be sure. His meeting with the glowing golden eye wouldn’t come today. Tomorrow, perhaps. But not today.

“Have they gone?”

Grim faced and unsmiling, Simpson nodded briskly. “I’ve cleared them out.”

Devon nodded. He hated nothing more than a house full of deadbeats hanging around. Orgy over, he wanted to be left alone. “And the young lady?” he asked, meaning his own recent fuck.

Simpson frowned. “Has been paid and sent on her way.” His words simmered disapproval.

Devon sipped his sherry, hating what he had to say. “Suppose I shouldn’t be dragging in all these strays.” Not a question.

Simpson’s lip dropped lower. “If I may say so, sir, it’s dangerous to keep exposing yourself to the riffraff. Your reputation isn’t highly regarded. One of these days-”

Tension knotting his shoulders, Devon cut him off. “I’m going to stumble, I know.” Discretion had come to mean little lately.

Simpson snorted, eyeing him with more than a little annoyance. “A little more, ah, restraint on your part would go a long way toward salvaging your reputation. Word does get around about the goings-on here.”

Brow wrinkling, Devon shrugged, unable to protest. Truth, all truth. Attempting to salvage his reputation would probably prove futile at this point. As one of the Kynn, he’d chosen not to limit his proclivities for sexual adventure. Quite the opposite. He’d exploited the vampire mythologies by founding a string of successful Goth-themed nightclubs. In doing so, he’d remade his fortune several times over. If problems arose, he employed a rich-man’s solution: money.

One thing money couldn’t buy was his peace of mind.

Or love.

Something I haven’t truly had since Ariel was alive. He’d begun to doubt he’d ever have another chance at finding a second mate.

Thrusting the idea from his mind, Devon emptied his glass. The emptiness was eating him up inside. “I don’t want to hear any more right now.” His words ended the conversation then and there.

“Of course, Lord Carnavorn.” Simpson only used Devon’s title when displeased.

Lips pressing tightly, Devon pawed at his pounding temple. Oh hell. Let the old bugger be pissed off. Better pissed off than pissed on. His headache had taken on fresh strength, banging behind his eyes, which felt like they’d pop out of his skull. He’d drank too much, fucked too much, and felt like shit. Exhaustion had crept up on him, and he hadn’t even realized it. Instead of feeling invigorated from his recent feed, he felt like concrete. Heavy, dull, and lifeless.

A touch of the sun on his skin sent him back into soothing shadows. Simpson followed. As if aware of his master’s earlier thoughts, Simpson drew the blinds. They closed with a brisk snap, shielding him from the outside world but not his thoughts.

Devon wished he could simply close his eyes and go on to no particular destination, just quietly exist in limbo forever.

Simpson stood across from him, keeping his distance deliberate. “Are you all right, sir?”

A ridge of muscle tightened Devon’s jaw. A painful sensation began to work its way through his neck and shoulders. “I’ll be fine.”

At least he hoped he would be.

Feeling the pressure of the night’s exertions, Devon pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Perhaps if he rubbed hard enough he could obliterate every brain cell in his head. Stop thinking. Stop breathing. Stop being.

Thinking of the empty bed waiting for him only depressed him more. He’d slept very little lately, mostly because he hated facing that desolate expanse of cold sheets. Despite the bevy of beautiful women he’d recently had at hand, he’d be going to bed alone.

Again.

BIO:

Besides being intelligent divas who pen kickass prose, Jeanie and her momma are dessert-eating, take-no-shit, tell-it-like-they-feel instead of tell-it-like-people-want-to-hear-it women. They are women who have brains and aren’t afraid to use them; feelings and aren’t afraid to express them; and, middle fingers which they’ll happily use to salute out of line peeps. Independently, both are forces of nature that leave you begging for mercy or begging for more…depending on your level of tolerance. Even better, when they’re in cahoots, they transform into the best tag team duo, bound together by the pen.Jeanie is a shagalicious word slinger, who will be world ruling side-by-side with her momma. As long as her Polar Bear (shhh it’s a secret ) does not drink all of her Cokes, all will be well. After gifting her clan with a knee buckling narrative or two, Jeanie intends to relax by throwing on her favorite hoodie and jumping in her chromed-out truck in search of the alpha that is the basis of the heroes in all of her stories.

Her momma, Jayha is a lot closer to the convent than Jeanie, which is ironic considering that she’s been accused of being the catalyst for the fall of the Roman Empire and a cult leader with low aspirations. When not indulging her torrid affair with ESPN, she finds time to grace Mr. Me with her presence. Jayha constantly hones her skills, so that when she ascends to her position as world leader, stupid people will be punished and desserts will be easily acquired on every corner. Until that fan-freaking-tastic day arrives, she’ll continue to walk among the people rocking her standard outfit of Crocs and a blue t-shirt, composing rapturous reads…all while straightening her crooked halo.

EXCERPT:

Prelude

“F*ck,” Mariana muttered upon hearing the song that came on. She so didn’t need this sh*t right now. Sighing, tears silently tracked down her face as she listened to Uncle Kracker sing ‘ Don’t Know How (Not to Love You).‘ The last thing she needed was to hear some guy bearing his soul, crooning his confession in time to a haunting rhythm considering she was still raw from her recent breakup. She didn’t need to be reminded that her happily-ever-after had been re-appropriated and that some other woman was now the beneficiary of her fragile hopes and dreams. Some other woman who was everything she was not: white, blond, model-slim. Mariana may not have been blond or model-slim but what she was garnered numerous second and third looks. Simply put, she was built like a brick sh*thouse, having legs heavy with muscle, an impressive bust line and the impressive a*s to match it thanks to her African-American mother and her Samoan father.

Cursing, she wiped away the hot tears that scalded her face as they fell from brown eyes made even darker from pain. Mariana didn’t want to feel; she wanted to be able to slip into diva-mode and draw upon the strength that she wore in the face of disappointment, but she couldn’t just yet. Perhaps in a few more minutes, a few more months, but not right now. Right now, she still ached for his presence, her ears awaited endearments from his softly-accented voice, her body still cried out for the familiarity of his big, muscled form. She’d loved him — and had even admitted as much to him. Her ex had been everything she’d ever wanted in a man — except faithful, except strong enough to be her man. Okay, maybe he wasn’t even close to everything that she wanted, but that didn’t make her immune to loving him, nor did it make his betrayal any easier to bear.

Ignoring the voice that mocked her for believing in happy endings that involved women like her and men like that, she took a deep breath, centered herself and returned to her packing. Her destination was the beautiful South Pacific, specifically an exclusive resort on an out laying island off of the eastern coast of Tahiti that few people knew about. It was supposed to have been the vacation of her dreams; now it was merely a place where she could nurse her wounds in private without the sympathetic glances of well-meaning friends or choruses of ‘I told you so ‘ from everyone else. Sighing, she dismissed the irony of traveling to one of the world’s most romantic destinations as a single woman.

Prelude Two

Samson Ahiga Madeira was a man that garnered second and third glances wherever he went. How could he not? Standing 6’9″ and weighing 365 pounds, he sported bronze skin, hypnotic blue eyes, glossy, waist-length blue-black hair, and a body that promised women a thorough and unforgettable f*cking. He was an exotic-looking man thanks to his mixed ancestry. His stature and eye color was a gift from his Portuguese lineage; his rich skin tone and luxuriant hair was a gift from his Navajo lineage.

Though Samson was quick to flash that smile that could be featured in the after pictures of a cosmetic dentistry advertisement, that easy-going manner was merely camouflage. If one but took the time to look into his eyes they would clearly see the caveats advising against f*cking with him or anything that he considered his. The problem was that few could stand to look into his eyes for long. Though mostly blue, his eye color was comprised of an iridescent mix of hues that appeared black when he was passionate or angry. Not one to suffer fools or their bullsh*t, he could go from at-ease to going-to-your-a*s in the blink of an eye. Samson was definitely on the ‘do-not-f*ck-with’ list yet people often did and as such his past was littered with hordes of scarred, limping imbeciles who’d ignored the caveats and roused the dragon…and then gotten incinerated.

Regardless of his temper and the aura of danger that surrounded him like the rings surrounding Saturn, Samson was a good man. Blending in with the danger was an abundance of integrity that few beings possessed. Though he had a juggernaut contract that granted him the lifestyle of privilege and all of the perks that came with it, he didn’t dedicate himself to the usual pursuits of wealthy men. After all, he wasn’t accustomed to being privileged, but well-versed in reality.

Samson became well-versed in reality from the cradle. Being the product of a mother who was a citizen of the Navajo Nation and a white father with Portuguese grandparents, he was familiar with injustice, bigotry, and the limitations of good intentions. Regardless of having a family that was financially stable and known to be decent folk, as a child he was often on the outside looking in at a world that rejected him for not only being something more than a white, Anglo Protestant male, but for having the unmitigated gall of being da*n proud of it. To the dismay of his peers, he rejected all efforts to whiten him up, proudly embracing his Navajo heritage instead of letting it fall to the wayside in favor of his European roots. Though he visited his great-grandparents in Portugal and spoke Portuguese fluently, he also made an annual pilgrimage to Diné Bikéyah (Navajoland) and learned Navajo, one of the Athapaskan languages and the language of his mother’s people, although he was not yet fluent in it.

Regardless of his circumstances he wasn’t friendless. He befriended and ran with the other outcasts. The seats in front of his big screen television were often filled with men who were laws unto themselves. Though many of his friends had gotten into all kinds of sh*t, at heart they were good men who lived by the same rules: you do what you have to do but you don’t hurt women or children — ever.

Samson had a thing about how women were to be treated, which he’d learned from his father and both of his grandfathers. The males from his mother’s tribe had taught him the importance of maintaining balance between the individual and all living things while the males of his father’s house had instilled one lesson in every boy: love your woman as Jesus loved the Church. Regardless of how well a woman could fight or shoot; regardless of how high the lift-kit on her pickup truck; regardless of the number of degrees she had conferred upon her; regardless of how much money she made; regardless of how messy her past was; regardless of how capable she was at taking care of herself and the world, women were gifts from God and as such were to be treated as such. Full stop.

Samson took those teachings to heart. If a man hurt a woman in his presence, that man was going to be carried away on a gurney. It wasn’t merely his father’s teachings that made him such a protector of women; it was the things that he saw with his own eyes and one thing that he couldn’t help but notice was the fact that women often paid the price of whatever foolishness men engaged in.

A man of strong passions, Samson was a complex man, a good man, an educated man, but right now he was a restless man. At age twenty-eight he’d da*n near finished his wish list of wants. He had the juggernaut bank account and real estate portfolio; he’d earned multiple degrees from prestigious universities; he’d traveled to numerous countries; he’d earned the highest honors in his profession; he’d had many beautiful women.

As blessed and privileged as he was Samson was also tired…and though he was loath to admit it, he was lonely. In spite of being in the company of many beautiful women, he knew that it wasn’t him as much as it was his recent privilege that afforded him the opportunity to be photographed with them. In his heart, he knew that none of those women were the stand-by-your-man type, which is why he’d chosen them. He never wanted to hurt a woman’s heart and subsequently he never wanted his heart broken so he purposely chose women whose primary goal in life was the amassing of expensive stuff and good times.

He could handle women who wanted the things that his millions could buy and entrance to the places his fame gave them access to. That type of woman was plentiful. Good women, like the old adage went, were da*n hard to find. This is why he traveled so much in the off-season. Not to find a woman, but to escape the reality of what he didn’t have: he didn’t have the woman that was what his grandmothers were to his grandfathers and what his mama was to his papa. He didn’t have his everything.

Chapter One

Emitting a gasp, Samson stopped dead in his tracks and tried to catch his breath. Accustomed to being in the presence of his rowdy teammates, hyped-up fans and adoring women, not much threw him off, but the woman in his line of vision not only shocked him into stillness; she threw off his body functions. His breathing became erratic, his heartbeat double-timed it, and he broke out into a cold sweat.

He hadn’t planned to stop in the hotel’s five-star restaurant, but then that was before he glimpsed the woman that walked her fine a*s into his line of vision and hypnotized him with the sway of her full hips and spankable a*s. Hungrily, he watched her as she took a seat at one of the outdoor tables. The woman was f*cking stunning. Boasting an exotic look, Samson guessed that a mixture of Polynesian and African blood coursed through her veins. She had the thickness that African-American women were frequently blessed with and the long, thick tresses for which Polynesian women were renown. And of course she carried herself with the innate pride that women of color wore like a second skin.

Her laughter pulled his attention from her body and directed it to her lips. Groaning, he watched the mirth spill from those pouty lips. He caught a glimpse of tongue as she licked her lips. In that moment he envied her lip gloss, hell he envied everything that was touching her. Waiting for her tongue to make another appearance, he swore that her lips whispered an invitation: would you like a taste? He didn’t just want a taste; he wanted to make a nine-course meal out of her lips. Several questions flooded his thoughts: How would her lips feel under his? How would she taste on his tongue? How would they look parted in pleasure as she called out his name? The image of him making love to her mouth caused him to groan. Shaking with need, he commandeered the nearest table and took a moment to gather himself.

When he was able to think complete thoughts again, he went back to his perusal. His eyes skimmed a path down the curves of her body. A full-figured woman, her luscious body looked as if it would welcome a man home. Sighing with pleasure, he continued his slow perusal of her body’s topography, noting her bountiful cleavage, thick legs, well-developed calves and even her feet when she toed off her dainty sandals. Laughing, he noted she didn’t seem to appreciate wearing shoes. From the way she kept discreetly adjusting her dress, he’d bet money that she was a shorts and t-shirt kind of woman. He didn’t know who had prompted her to wear that dress, but when he found out, he was going to buy them a drink. Who was he kidding? Considering all of the pleasure he was getting from looking at her in that dress, he’d buy them a whole f*cking distillery.

The dress wore her and highlighted her caramel skin to perfection. A deep red in color, it boasted a side slit. If a man were lucky, he’d be able to catch a glimpse of panty and copious thigh. The Creator must’ve decided that he was a worthy man, in harmony with nature and the universe — for just then, she laughed and shifted positions. The shift allowed him to glimpse the sheer black panties she wore underneath. His c*ck went da*n near burst through his pants. He forced his mind to Denver winters in order to bring his body back under control.

PARTY OVER HERE:

jeanieandjayha@gmail.com

–
http://www.jayhaleigh.com/
HOT LIKE FIRE: The Taming and Liberation of Mariana
http://www.lulu.com/content/1295291

The Wild, Wild Mess: Atlanta
http://www.loose-id.net/detail.aspx?ID=416

Bio: Ashleigh Raine

Ashleigh Raine is a multi-published, award-winning writing team made up of lifelong friends, Jennifer and Lisa. Living in the Los Angeles area, they have both worked various jobs in the Entertainment industry including stagehand, script reader, feature film production assistant, precision driver, theatrical lighting designer, seat filler and background actor. These experiences are a wealth of inspiration for their Hollywood Heat series.

Their first novel, LOVER’S TALISMAN, won second place honors in the Reviewers International Organization (RIO) Award of Excellence for Best Debut Book 2003. Their second novel, FORSAKEN TALISMAN, was a RIO Recommended Read for August 2004. The Ashleigh Raine website (http://www.ashleighraine.com/) contains further information on these talented ladies and the Hollywood lives they’ve lived.

Driven to Distraction excerpt #1

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Driven to Distraction by Ashleigh Raine
2007 (c) Copyright Ashleigh Raine
Available now from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

Left turn. Right turn. Twist and turn. Left turn. Left turn.

Blaina Triton cruised the streets of Encino, driving to her best friend Sam Clarey’s place for an old-fashioned girls’ night in—pizza, ice cream and gossip. Of course gossip was just a nice way of saying they were going to talk about men and sex.

The traffic light turned green and Blaina made a right onto Burbank Boulevard near Woodley Park. One of the only decent breaks from buildings at the south end of the Valley, it was wide enough to smash the pedal and go like a bat out of hell if there weren’t any cars around.

A sliver of moon chased the sun as warm evening breeze poured through her open window, bringing with it two of her favorite smells, trees and car exhaust. Driving through Encino was the long way to Sam’s house. The very long and much-preferred way. Just Blaina and her yellow ’69 Camaro, the way life should be. Then her cell phone rang.

“Blaine? Please tell me you’re not already on your way over?”

“Yeah, Sam, I’ll be there in maybe twenty, thirty minutes, depending on traffic. You know me, I’m taking the scenic route over the hill. What’s up?”

“You’re gonna hate me,” Sam said hesitantly.

“Oh right. Me hate you. You married the most gorgeous man in Hollywood and I don’t hate you yet. What else could you possibly do that’d actually make me hate you?” Blaina rolled her eyes and laughed. “You canceling on me or something?”

“Well…yeah…” Sam drew out each word then spoke in a rush. “But it’s for a really good reason. Connor’s home. He rearranged his schedule so he could come home a day early and surprise me and—”

“And you’d rather fuck him than hang with me? Duh. I should hope so.” Blaina snickered and shot a glance at the gaudy, neon pink bag on the passenger seat. “Now that Connor’s back home, I guess you won’t need the gift I bought you. Too bad, I’ll just have to add it to my collection.”

“Hey, now. You can’t tell me you bought me a present and then say you’re keeping it for yourself.”

“Pshaw. It’s not like you need it. You are getting laid tonight. I’m going home alone—with your present. A portable penis. Ten inches of glowing green, vibrating pleasure.”

“Only ten inches? Connor’s bigger than that.”

“Shut up and stop bragging.” Blaina chuckled, then saw something that gave her a better buzz than anything plastic ever could.

A dark purple 1970 Barracuda convertible parked on the side of the road, hood up, complete with hard-body owner leaning against the fender just in front of the driver side door. Muscular bronze arms crossed over a white T-shirted chest. Faded blue jeans that looked so well-worn they’d be soft to the touch, showcased his long legs, ending with black, work-booted feet, one crossed over the other. It was like the man had stepped out of her favorite car fantasy, instantly popping the clutch and throwing her libido into high gear.

She tried to tamp her excitement, telling herself that a smart woman would not jump a strange man on the side of the road. But there was no reason she couldn’t offer help. And whatever happened afterward… “I think my night’s gonna be great anyway. Go rock Connor’s world. I’ll catch ya later, Sam.”

Sam laughed. “Okay. Thanks, Blaine. Be good.” Sam’s last words were barely heard as Blaina flipped her phone closed and tossed it onto the passenger seat next to the plastic bag from the sex shop. At a break in the center median, she hooked a U-turn. The Camaro’s tires squeaked as she whipped the car around.

Come to mama, baby. Her nipples tightened in anticipation under her white cotton, ribbed tank top and she squirmed to give her cunt some breathing room in her painted-on, low-rise, dark green camouflage jeans. As she passed on the opposite side of the street, she stole glances at the fine hunk of manflesh, wanting to verify he was real and not a sexual mirage.

Wait a minute. Was he checking her out, too? His dark sun-glassed gaze followed her path as she U-turned again at the next intersection and pulled up behind the Barracuda.

When she stepped out of the car, his gaze locked on her. Even through the sunglasses, she felt his stare searing her body from head to toe—pausing at a few choice places in between—with each of her approaching steps. Or maybe it was the Southern California heat causing her body’s temperature to rise.

Slowly, he peeled himself away from his car and turned his damn fine body toward her, looking relaxed and sexy as he looped one thumb in a pocket. Sweat trickled between her breasts, her temperature jumping another ten degrees. This close, the man was an even tastier roadside attraction. His blond hair was cut short, accentuating his strong cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose and chiseled jaw. One half of his mouth ticked upward in an interested grin as he gave her another slow once over, pausing at her braless chest.

Blaina cocked her head to the side and returned the favor, undressing him with her eyes. Holy moly, if reality was anything like the carnal picture her mind was presenting…

Somehow she managed to choke out through all the accumulating drool, “I’ve got tools. You need a hand?”

“A woman with tools, huh?” His grin shifted into a scowl as he smacked a fist against the roof. “Unless you’ve got a magic wand, a gallon of water and a roll of duct tape there probably isn’t much you can do.”

“I’ve got a gallon of water and a roll of duct tape. I left my magic wand at home, though. Sorry, I don’t need it much. I drive a Chevy.” She winked, then began walking back to her car, adding what she hoped was a mesmerizing, follow-me-back-to-my-car swing to her hips.

He chuckled. “Oh, I see how it is.” The crunch of gravel beneath his boots as he followed had her ready to do cartwheels. Reel him in, Blaina. “You tease me with your tools and then put down my new ride before she’s proven herself? Give me a weekend and I’ll get this here pile of scrap metal to smoke your Chevy like it’s tied to a tree.”

“Oh, please. You gonna slide in a hotter camshaft and switch the gears in her rear-end just so you can have a shot at my machine? I dare ya.” Blaina popped her trunk and grabbed a rag, a jug of water and slid a roll of tape over her wrist. She needed something to keep her hands busy. Her fingers itched to rip the clothing off Mr. Hardbody and explore all of his pieces. “I’d love to see your hotrod pull out ahead of me. But tell me this, what are you gonna do when I squeeze the juice and you find yourself working extra hard and heavy only to eat my dust?” She tossed a saucy grin back over her shoulder.

He leaned a hip against the edge of the trunk next to her and although they weren’t touching, his arresting presence practically sucked the air from her lungs. The steamy twilight air resonated with his intense magnetism, drawing her to him like a moth to a flame…and oh how she wanted to burn. “I guess you’ll have to wait and find out what it’s really like to tangle with my big block Barracuda. Bring it on. I love a good…hot…race.” His words slid down her neck like a heated caress, letting her know she wasn’t the only one who wanted more than just a roadside attraction.

Blaina swallowed hard, suppressing a breathy pant. This man had revved her engine from zero to sixty in less time than it took to say, I want you. Can you please fuck me right here on the trunk of my car?

Visions of that fuck filled her mind, the full length of him driving hard into her, the feel of his breath ragged and hot against her skin. Her body tightened with unspent desire and she swallowed a moan. This was the fastest her body had ever shifted into overdrive.

Damn, girl, come to your senses. You’ve spent less than five minutes with this man and you want him to check your oil?

She stood up quickly, trying to clear the lingering sexual fantasies before her nipples drilled holes through her tank top. The jug of water she’d clenched so tightly hit the edge of the trunk and bounced out of her grip, landing inches from her feet.

“Whoa. You okay?” He lunged downward, but she’d already leaned over to retrieve the jug. She took that moment to push all thoughts of sex with him out of her mind, before she ended up dropping something much heavier and more painful on her foot. Calm…cool…collected…c’mon, Blaina…

But when she lifted her head, his lips were only inches from hers and that ragged breath she’d been fantasizing about only moments earlier washed over her face in a feverish caress.

“Yeah…I’m f-fine.” You’re incredibly fine, actually. I need to pour this water over myself to try to cool off at least a tiny little bit or I really will jump you on the trunk of my car, passing motorists be damned. “S-So, did you overheat?”

His tempting lips curled up in a suggestive smile.

“I-I mean, your car.”

“Radiator hose.” A car part had never sounded so sexy before. His voice had dropped, becoming a deep husky growl, more sex beast than mechanic.

His gaze stayed riveted on her for a second longer than necessary, before he turned and headed over to his engine compartment.

And talk about a fine rear view. Wow. Blaina followed, staring at his firm, tight ass while taking deep, calming breaths to decelerate her heart back to normal cruising speed.

She set down the jug of water—carefully this time—and laid the duct tape on the front fender.

“Big block engines… They get real hot, don’t they?” She tilted her face toward him, and lowered her voice provocatively. “Ever let a woman caress your big hose?” Blaina gave him her naughtiest smile, but at his snorted reply, she erupted into laughter.

He shook his head. “Honestly, I never imagined a woman would want to caress a hose as big as the one I’ve got.” His grin turned positively feral as he moved in behind her, so close the heat of his body cradled hers, and whispered into her ear. “Careful, it’s very…hot.” He drew out the last word and Blaina shivered at the sensual intensity in his tone.

Using the rag, she placed her fingers around the radiator hose and began stroking up its length. She’d only traveled three inches when he grasped her hand, trapping it between the heat of the hose and his skin. A current of electricity shot from where he touched her to every erogenous zone in her body. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d gotten crossed up with a spark plug wire while the engine was at full throttle.

His hands were large and work-roughened, the kind that could rebuild a carburetor and undress a woman with equal care, and oh God how she wanted to experience him doing both.

“I’ll take over from here,” he rumbled, working the rag and her hand up the hose’s length. His arm grazed hers, the coarse hairs causing goose bumps to rise on her flesh.

Blaina closed her eyes, letting him manipulate her hand and her senses. Fixing a car had never been this erotic before. If they were to fuck, would he show her how he liked to be stroked? It wasn’t hard to imagine pumping his thick, hard cock, taking the large, round head into her mouth and working him until he came.

Oh hell, she almost came at that image. Her pussy flooded with moisture, her stomach clenching with deep-seated longing. It was everything she could do not to rub up against him, throw him down and shift his gears like he kept shifting hers.

Fuck it. If he hadn’t figured out by now that she wanted him, she might as well make it more obvious. But as she leaned back to feel his rock-hard chest, he leaned in, giving her an added bonus of washboard abs pressed to her rib cage. Her ass grazed the large bulge in his pants, but it was enough to send sharp ripples of longing to her core. His entire body strung tight and a sharp breath hissed between his lips.

A gurgling sound called her attention back to the car. As if on cue, some water dribbled out of the break in the hose, sizzling as it hit the water pump. But neither one of them laughed. Heat seared her body from every direction. The car was hot, this man was hot, the ground was hot, her pussy was hot…everything was scorching hot.

Needing an escape before she completely lost control, threw him down and fucked him on the side of the road for all to see, Blaina slid her hand out from under his and stepped away. For a moment he watched her, his hand fisted at his side, his breathing as sharp as hers, before finally returning to his work.

She walked a few feet, trying to catch a breeze, something, anything to cool the raging fire burning through her. The asphalt ignored her plea, the heat of the day still rising off it.

He glanced back at her. “You rescue guys like this all the time?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I guess it’s just my lucky day then. And to think I was pissed off about breaking down one lousy mile from home.”

Damn she wanted him, more than she could remember wanting any other man. So what next? Was she supposed to climb back into her car and let Mr. Hardbody drive away? Buh-bye. It’s been fun.

That would be a serious crime against humanity. Or at least against her dismally boring social calendar.

She moved to face him, just as he stood up. He gestured toward his car. “Can you start her up so I can fill the radiator?”

Blaina nodded, not sure that if she opened her mouth to reply, anything but “Please fuck me” would come out.

Before her wits left her for good and she ended up on her knees supplicating, she reached through his open window, turned the key and the engine chugged to life. Pulling back out of the car, she caught him watching her before he leaned over and began pouring the water in. He’d been checking out her ass. That was it. She was not spending this evening alone.

Decision made, she walked around the front of the car.

He looked up at her approach. “You got anywhere you need to be?”

“I’m following you home to make sure you get there okay.”

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

Driven to Distraction excerpt #2 (a hint of naughtiness)Driven to Distraction by Ashleigh Raine
2007 (c) Copyright Ashleigh Raine
Available now from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.When the Barracuda brake lights dimly lit up and he turned into a driveway, Blaina stopped in front of the house, watching as he pulled into the garage.

He lived in one of the older houses in the neighborhood, a single story home painted beige with cream accents with matching fifties-style decorative rock facing. The lawn was simple and well-maintained. An extra garage had been tastefully added on, turning the standard two-car garage home into a car lover’s dream—room for a workshop and four cars.

As if she wasn’t already panting for the guy.

Blaina grabbed the gaudy pink sex shop bag off the passenger seat and pushed the ten-inch vibrator out of the way, revealing a box of multicolored condoms. Ripping the box open, she took in the rainbow of rubbers—red, blue, yellow, green, purple…

What was wrong with her? Why was she pondering colors? Blaina yanked out a condom and stuffed it into her back pocket.

She looked up to see Mr. Tall, Blond and Sexy walking her way, hands in his pockets, sunglasses no longer camouflaging his face. Her stomach flip-flopped at his approach, his long, confident strides, the way the denim clung to him in all the right places. Blindly, she reached back into the bag for more rubbers. One condom was _not_ going to be enough.

Cramming the handful of condoms into her back pocket, Blaina tossed the bag back onto the opposing seat, cringing as the ten-inch vibrating monstrosity thumped against the passenger door. Hopefully she hadn’t broken the damn thing.

The man’s shadow crossed the window, and Blaina forgot about the stupid vibrator as she climbed out of her car and stared into crystal blue heaven.

The man had the most gorgeous cerulean eyes she’d ever seen. Why the hell would he hide those beauties behind sunglasses…ever?

His grin widened, creating matching crinkles at the corners of those sexy eyes. How long had she been standing there ogling him, mesmerized by his gaze?

Shaking it off, she leaned against her closed door, trying to look casual and flirty and oh-so-ready for hours of naughtiness. “So, you got home okay. Guess my job’s done.”

“Well now, the least I can do is offer you a drink. For going out of your way and all.”

She cocked her head to the side as though she were considering his offer. “Throw in a tour of your garage and it’s a deal.”

“Done.” He winked and extended his arm to her, unintentionally revealing corded muscle bulging beneath tanned skin. “Come on.”

Blaina was smitten, charmed and ready to go anywhere with him. She pushed away from her car and he settled a hand on her upper back, leading her into the garage. He barely touched her, more of a guiding hand than an erotic caress, but it was enough to send her senses reeling.

Then they walked into his garage, and the last bit of sense she had went flying out the window.

Welcome to paradise. Blaina’s mouth fell open as she took in her surroundings.

Next to his Barracuda, a blue ’63 Corvette split window coupe with freshly polished chrome twinkled in the twilight. At the far end sat a custom-painted teal with detailed orange and yellow flames ’49 Ford Panel Truck, chopped, channeled and ready to roll. But if rolling wasn’t fast enough, next to it was a sleek, black ’97 Viper roadster. That baby didn’t just look fast, it was fast.

This garage was incredible. A huge workshop took up most of the back wall. In the dim light, she vaguely made out a drill press, brake lathe and chop saw, but knew there had to be tons more. If this wasn’t automotive foreplay, what was?

“Okay, what do you like? Diet or regular? Or maybe a beer?”

His deep, gravelly voice yanked her from her musings and she snapped her mouth shut, hoping he hadn’t caught her drooling. Turning his way, she pasted on a smile, swallowing her tongue at her new view—jeans pulled tight over a flawless male ass as he bent over and studied the contents of his steel-plated fridge.

Blaina walked up behind him, lifting her hand and cupping the air around his butt. Oh yeah, sooooo nice…

When he tossed a raised-eyebrow glance her way, she jolted her hand back and said, “I like it all.”

His eyebrow arched higher, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. I’m easy to please.”

“Good to know.” He handed her a soda and grabbed a bottle of beer for himself. A few pizza boxes crashed against the door as he closed it. “Obviously I wasn’t planning on having company tonight or I would’ve been more prepared.” Twisting off the bottle cap, he leaned against the workbench, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, his gaze one hundred percent focused on her.

Blaina thought of the condoms filling her back pocket. Although that probably wasn’t what he was talking about when he mentioned being prepared, it was a perfect opening to learn his relationship status. “Do you live alone?”

“Just me and my dog, Bo, out back.”

Yes! Yes! Yes! But just to be sure she confirmed, “No wife, girlfriend, significant other or anyone else who’d be a teeny-tiny bit jealous that I’m lusting after your…cars?”

One side of his mouth tilted upward. “Nope. Cars are usually women repellent.”

“I think you’ve been talking to the wrong women.”

He chuckled. “I think you’re probably right.”

“Of course I am.”

His grin didn’t disappear as he lifted the beer bottle to his mouth. His head tipped back, throat moving as he swallowed. She wanted to brace him against the workbench and nibble on his neck, lick a line up to his mouth and then suck the extra moisture from his lips. His really sexy lips. Lips made for sin, sex and seduction.

Shockwaves of lust caused her engine to overheat and her driveline to shimmy with desire. And she’d thought that only happened in romance novels. But no, her legs were quaking and she squeezed her knees together to keep them from knocking. She skimmed her can of soda over the steamy, exposed flesh above her tank top, and swore she heard a sizzle. But the cool relief was short-lived. His eyes sparked electric blue fire as they followed the trail the condensation left on her skin, heating her right back up again.

He clunked the half-empty beer bottle onto the workbench next to his hip, and stood up straight, aligning their bodies. “You still interested in that tour?” His fingertips grazed her hips, burning a hole through the denim.

If they were naked, all Blaina’d have to do is wiggle and jump and she’d be shifting her way to paradise.

Why weren’t they naked already?

“I’m ready when you are,” she offered hopefully. If the large lump in his pants was anything to go by, he was just as ready as she was.

“How fast do you like to go?”

Her heart accelerated, setting new land speed records. “Why don’t you take me for a test spin and find out?”

The words had barely passed her lips when he yanked her toward him and crashed his mouth over hers.

Oh Christ, the man was talented. His lips were warm and smooth as he teased hers, nibbling the sensitive flesh, then using his tongue to soothe the slight sting. Blaina didn’t normally like beer, but the faint taste of it on him was an intoxicant, a flavor she’d happily drown in if given the opportunity.

Calloused hands skimmed up her bare arms, leaving a trail of pure arousal in his wake. His palms came to rest on her neck, his thumbs stroking her jaw line. But still he didn’t deepen the kiss or rip off her clothes or any of the wonderful things that would get them closer to raw, unbridled sex.

Although maybe this going slow thing had its benefits. There was time for exploration, and this man had a body that demanded a fourteen-point inspection. But where to start. Did she want to polish his chrome? Dabble beneath his hood? Lengthen his driveshaft?

She placed her hands on his chest, beginning her journey by stroking him through the soft cotton, moaning her endorsement of every taut, hard, chiseled inch. Her fingertips skimmed lower, feeling the ridges in his abdomen. It was a roadmap to paradise.

Where had this man been her whole life? She sent up a quick prayer of thanks to the god of broken down vehicles for having this perfect specimen of a man’s car stall when and where it did.

His lips separated from hers and she blinked up at him. Why was he stopping? Stopping was bad.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asked as his thumb made lovely, erotically charged sweeps across her cheek.

Okay, that was definitely not bad. That was very, very good. Except she didn’t want to go inside.

She shook her head and he frowned. His hand fell from her face and Blaina realized she’d better explain really fast before he retreated completely. She tangled her fingers with his and smiled. “Why would I want to go inside? You and the cars are out here. The garage is perfect.”

BioAva Rose Johnson lives with her golden retriever in a beautiful magical place which inspires her every day. When she’s awake she works in a cozy bookstore where she buries herself under the desk and reads all the latest romances. She writes erotic romance late into the night when the muse is with her and then she goes to bed and dreams about delicious heroes and their awesome lovemaking skills.Blurb of Midnight MelodyFive years after her husband’s tragic death, Lizzie Jenkins’ life has
come to a standstill. Spending her days like the living dead, she
struggles through, the darkness dragging her down. But when the music begins, arousing her from troubled sleep, long-gone emotions are
awakened.

The green-eyed piano player hypnotizes her with his soft
melodies, eliciting a desire within her that she has never
experienced and soon she falls into a passionate affair. But how long can a relationship with a ghost last? Surely, it must end… right? It doesn’t matter that this man is from another time, his power over her is too strong. She’s addicted.

Buy link: http://www.twilightfantasies.com/Midnight%20Melody.htm

Excerpt One-X Rated

When Lizzie passed the now familiar portraits two nights later, excitement bubbled deep inside her. She fought herself not to run, savoring the anticipation of seeing him again. The past week had been incredible, and she was in no hurry for it to end. In fact, the idea of it concluding tonight sickened her.

Pushing aside the ugly thought, she bounced down the last couple of stairs, turning immediately to the music. His melody changed every night, though it was also soft, seductive. Tonight the notes reminded her of smooth jazz, teasing her nipples to jut proudly before her.

“Hi,” she whispered, catching his attention.

She shivered as that devastating smile appeared, casting his spell upon her.

Instead of waiting for her to approach as he usually did, he stood, reaching for her hand.

She raised an eyebrow as his hand came to her waist. “What’s this?”

Moving her toward the gramophone, he turned the dials. “How could I resist asking you to dance when you look so beautiful?”

She giggled, blushing furiously. “I’m wearing my nightdress.”

“Your nightdress is beautiful”.

As the old-style music filled the room, he led her slowly around the room, his steps way too complicated for her to follow.

“I’m sorry,” she squealed after stepping on his toes.

“Angel, you are light as a feather. You could dance all night on my shoes and I wouldn’t notice.”

She laughed, slapping a palm on the center of his chest. “You have all the words, Simon Kensington. But do you have the moves?”

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pause. In one smooth step, he swung her around, dipping her so low, tendrils of hair trailed along the floor.

Breathless, she clung to his body. “Where did you learn to dance?”

“At school.”

She shook her head in wonder. “Boys nowadays would never learn to dance.”

Simon frowned in confusion. “Why not?”

“It’s considered uncool.”

His frown deepened. “Uncool?”

She nodded. “Yes. Other boys would make fun of them.”

He chuckled loudly, shaking his head.

“What?” she demanded as his laugh grew louder.

Pulling her close, he dipped in close to inhale her scent. “Why would any man resist the opportunity to dance? It is the easiest way to touch a woman, without being slapped.”

“You really are a rogue Mr. Kensington,” Lizzie scolded, giggling as he planted soft kisses along her collarbone.

“As long as I’m your rogue.”

She looked up into his eyes, his expression suddenly serious.

Swallowing, she nodded, her heart beating faster. Those eyes held more power over her than her own mind.

His lips came down on hers in one easy swoop, taking her over with the heat of his mouth. Molding against his body, she gripped his neck, pulling his mouth downward. Need coursing through her. Heat pooling at her core. She sucked on his lower lip, biting gently then shoved her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his.

Body out of control, she moved mindlessly against him. Lips caught on his, her back slammed into a wall. Moaning against his mouth, she held onto his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his waist. Not knowing what was happening, she relinquished her control.

“Can’t take it,” she gasped, his mouth dragging along her neck. “Fuck me, oh God.”

Savoring the tight grip of his hands on her bare ass, she screamed as he slammed inside her. Damn, that felt good.

Moaning her pleasure, pussy clinging onto him, she banged a fist against the wall behind her. His thighs, so strong as they met hers. His cock pushing her so far. Within seconds, fire exploded in her belly, spreading throughout her body. But he kept going, she could hear him grunt. Felt her sweat-slick skin slide against his.

Feeling his whole body tense, she looked up, the desperation in his gaze making her lip quiver. Her action catching his attention, he claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her so fiercely she couldn’t breathe.

“Angel,” he muttered into her neck, breaking their kiss. “Angel…”

She leaned against the wall, his body covering hers for what seemed like hours. The warmth he gave her satisfying every bone in her body. Stroking a damp piece of hair away from his forehead, she smiled as he raised his head.

“What will I do when you stop coming Angel?”

Her heart shivered, his words sending fear shooting through her veins. Shaking her head, she kissed his forehead. “I’ll keep coming.”

Excerpt Two-X-Rated

His eyes gave nothing away, except for the flicker of heat brewing between them. Coming to a halt before him, her senses inundated with his irresistible smell of leather and soap, she tried to smile.

He didn’t smile back, his gaze uncompromising, making her sweat.

Up close she saw he wasn’t as young as she’d originally thought, creases showed at his eyes, making him even more attractive. Tall with broad shoulders, he was impossibly masculine. Stubble covered his chin, a few dark chest hairs springing from his open collar.

But it was his mouth which had her heart racing, blood rushing to her nipples. Even set in a grim line, he couldn’t disguise the fullness of his bottom lip. Plump and red, she longed to sink her teeth into it, to taste his mouth, his tongue.

Her mouth dry, she realized she was staring openly. Forcing her eyes to meet his, her breath caught in her throat at the pure, unadulterated lust she saw there.

“Angel,” he said, his husky tones pulling at her sex. “You have a beautiful mouth. May I touch it?”

Struck dumb, she nodded mindlessly, unable to breathe as his hand rose to cup her chin. Still holding her gaze, he brushed a thumb over her mouth, first lightly, then harder, pressing into the soft flesh.

She gasped for breath, her pussy thrumming heavily, begging her to press against him. His thumb rubbing the wetness of her lower lip, she tasted his skin, creating a craving within her she couldn’t resist. Parting her lips, she drew his thumb inside her mouth and sucked. As she closed her eyes, she was aware of a low moan coming from him, his body moving closer. Then overwhelmed by his heat, she pressed against him, feeling the erection at her belly. Opening her eyes, she raised her gaze to see a face rigid with restraint. She tipped her head slightly to the side, silently telling him it was okay.

Lifting her hands to cup his face, she dragged him down so his breath warmed her cheeks. Then bringing his hand from her mouth to where her nipple strained through the thin fabric of her robe, she pulled his mouth to hers. His lips touched hers softly, as if testing the waters. Winding her fingers into his hair, she kissed him harder, running a tongue over his lips. Dutifully, he parted them, sliding his tongue into her mouth, entwining with hers. Moaning into the back of his throat, she went limp against the strength of his body, only aware of the delicious heat of his velvet tongue. Her panties grew damp, the eroticism of the fevered kiss driving her crazy. Pulling at his hair, she ground instinctively against his erection, seeking release from his body.

“Please,” she breathed, needing more. “Oh God, please.”

Sharply ending their kiss he moved her onto the chaise longue, kneeling before her. He paused, running his eyes over her body.

She squirmed under his gaze. Not because she was embarrassed. She didn’t give a damn what she looked like. All she wanted was for him to soothe the ache in her pussy, an ache she couldn’t recall experiencing before.

He put his hands on her, caressing her ankles, sliding his palms up her legs. She bit her lip, the sensations almost unbearable. Her breath coming in short bursts, she pulled her robe open for him.

“Patience Angel,” he said, his tone harsh.

“No,” she hissed, pressing against his hands that rested at her thighs. “Now.”

His large hands grazed along her thighs, under the silk of her nightdress, the heat of his fingers sending a surge of moist to her pussy. Her senses overpowered by the scent of her arousal mixed with his smell, she closed her eyes, wanting only to feel.

She let out a strangled gasp, his fingers suddenly inside her, her pussy closing around them. He slid them in and out, his touch more pleasurable than anything she’d ever felt before. Opening her eyes, she saw his dark head through the haze, buried between her thighs. His hot breath closing around her mound, she tangled her fingers in his hair, screaming as his wet mouth sucked on her clit. Oh God, he was good. Barely aware of her actions, she pushed his face into her pussy, grinding her hips against him.

He continued lapping up her juices, his fingers toying with her clit as his tongue darted in and out of her tight hole.

She cried out, waves of orgasm assaulting her body. He was still there on his knees, giving her the carnal pleasure.

Only when her body stilled, her chest rising and falling at a less rapid pace, did he lift his head.

Smiling softly at him, she felt satisfaction humming through her limbs. Even with legs spread, a sheen of sweat covering her forehead and face flushed, she felt no shame. Not when he looked at her like that.

“You are a beauty Angel,” he whispered, winding one of her curls around his finger.

She smiled, pulling his face down to hers for a kiss. She tasted herself on his lips, the salty essence reminding her how much he’d turned her on.

“You are a devil Mr. Kensington,” she muttered against his mouth. “A devil…”

Bio:

The consummate lady-of-all-trades, award-winning author Renee George has been a medic, a nurse, a web site designer, and a small press editor. She can make candles, build a deck, and redo a bathroom, but writing is her true passion.

Renee loves to cook, which is a good thing with a growing boy and hungry husband around. The men in Renee’s life are very understanding (which really means they ignore her when she grumbles at the computer) making sure she has plenty of coffee on hand. She and her family live in a small, mid-western town, sharing their home with two dogs and a very independent cat.

Readers who visit her website at http://www.romance-the-night.com/ will find information on upcoming works as well as a fantastic gallery of Renee’s graphic art. Fans may write her at rgeorge@romance-the-night.com or join the news group at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/renee_george_news.

Viva Los Regalos: Double Down
by Renee George

cover link: http://www.changelingpress.com/images/covers/fulls/681.jpg
buy link: http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=681

Blurb:
After shy, hard-working Maxine Simms inherits a small chunk of money from her grandmother, she decides to be frivolous for once in her life. She books a dream weekend at Los Regalos, the world’s only city run completely by paranormals and catering strictly to humans. The best thing is, Los Regalos prides itself on complete anonymity for their guests! Maxine is determined to have her every fantasy fulfilled, even if it goes against her nature.

Nigel Tennon and Pacer Prism are blackjack dealers at the Platinum Nugget Casino and Hotel in Los Regalos. Both hume-shapeshifters from the same clan — Pacer, dark-haired and mysterious, Nigel, blue-haired and outrageously fun — they were childhood friends until a misunderstanding drove them apart. When Maxine shows up at the Nugget, her quiet, conservative demeanor attracts the shifters, and they are both determined to have her. They get the surprise of their lives when Maxine takes a chance and tells them she wants to “double down” and have them both.

All bets are off as the two shifters decide whether they can put their differences aside to make Maxine’s fantasies come true, and they discover there is more beneath the surface anger that they feel for each other than either one of them could have imagined.

Excerpt 1: (NC-17)

“You’ve never heard of humes? I’m not surprised. Here…” He stepped back from her. “I think it will be easier to show you than to tell you.” Before Maxine’s eyes, Nigel’s long blue hair turned blond and began to recede into a shorter cut. His body shrank down to her height. Morphing and shifting, he grew breasts and his hips became curvier. His rainbow colored eyes turned green and Maxine nearly hit the floor. He’d made himself look exactly like her.

There Maxine stood looking at a mirror image of herself, only the image wore black slacks and a black T-shirt. “Oh, that’s just… crazy.”

The other her smiled as Nigel shifted again, hair lengthening a bit, and turning brown. His build became thickly muscled as he grew several inches. Not as tall as his former self, but taller than she. His face took on a chiseled look, no longer narrow and beautiful, instead he became more rugged, like an action hero from one of those old movies her grandparents liked to watch.

Within seconds, he transformed into himself again. Tall, delicate features, and gorgeous. Without thinking, Maxine reached out and touched his hair. Nigel took her hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s real. I’m real.”

“And you can just…” She wiggled her hips and eyebrows. “Shift your body into whatever?”

“Well, it is limited to human forms and variations thereof. But, yes, mostly whatever.” He grinned.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Never.” He nuzzled her fingertips. “Do you like the way I look? Or would you prefer me to take another form?”

“I…” She blinked at the question. It also could have been the fact she still felt the electricity pulse through her fingertips from where he’d kissed them. “I… you look fine.” Maybe a little overdressed.

Nigel stripped his shirt. Maxine’s jaw went slack. His abdomen lined up in a neat eight-pack, with a strip of blue hair below his navel trailing down under his slacks. And his nipples. Oh, God, his glorious light blue nipples — the left one pierced by a gold barbell — ached to be played with. “What are you doing?” she asked, then thought, and why in the hell did you stop at just the shirt.

As if on command, the blue-haired god of a man smiled coyly and began to unbutton and unzip his drawers.

Maxine felt light-headed. “Dear Lord, man. What are you doing?” The words came out in a weak pant.

“You’re the one who keeps thinking I’m wearing too many clothes. I’m just trying to please you.” His pants hung loose at his hips. He took Maxine’s hand and pulled her closer to him. He placed her palm on his stomach and slowly slid it down until her fingers dipped into the blue curls of hair and his aroused cock rose to greet the tips. “Do I please you?”

“Oh yes,” Maxine sighed, gripping his shaft. She stammered, “I… I mean, uh…” She couldn’t think. Not with his really large, really hard cock in her hand. “I don’t know what I mean.”

“Maxine. I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?” The dulcimer tones of his voice poured over her body like warm honey, coating her with his desire and longing. “Kiss me.”

She bit her lower lip, determined to put up one last resistance. She didn’t know this guy from Adam, jumping into his arms and fucking his brains out and vice versa was not practical. Her grandmother’s words crept into her mind. Forget practical, Maxi-moon. Live. Really live. For both of us.

His hands went to her shoulders. “Live, Maxi-moon.”

As scared as she might be of making a mistake, the thought of never taking the chance scared her more. Throwing aside her rationales for not taking full advantage of the hume, Maxine jumped into his arms and met his mouth with her own. Fiercely and fearless, she thrust her tongue between his lips, running the tip over his fangs, before slipping it past his teeth. His lips met her with as much ferocity, if not more, feeding from her mouth like a hungry tiger.

Nigel yanked her pajama top over her head, and she pulled back far enough to see his hair had turned orange, his eyes yellow with large black pupils, and his skin burnt-orange with black stripes. Still in human form, but his markings were that of a tiger. It definitely distracted her from the fact her naked breasts, not nearly as perky as they used to be, were on full display. “Whoa. That is so awesome.”

“No.” He cupped her breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth, then moving to other for rough lick. “These are awesome.” Kneeling before Maxine, Nigel pulled her bottoms down, revealing her white underpants. He chuckled — dark, sexy, seductive. He licked the fabric between her legs. “Mmm, you are delicious.”

She thought she would lose it right then and there. Remaining standing was no longer an option as her knees buckled. Nigel caught her thighs and held her steady. His tongue laced itself under the white cotton panties and slid along the folds of her pussy. Placing his arms against her back, he lifted Maxine until her legs were over his shoulders. He stood, holding her up, his teeth nibbling her swollen clit as he braced her against the wall.

“Criminently!” She threw her head back and the top of her skull bashed against the eight-foot ceiling. The small pain sent a twittering thrill through her body. She rocked her hips forward, wishing the fabric between his mouth and her pussy gone.

Nigel head reared back. “Your wish is my command.” His fangs bit into the white cotton and he yanked, ripping her underwear right off.

“Oh, God. Oh, God,” she murmured, her aching clit grazing against his chin.

“You haven’t seen God, yet.” His tongue swiped the folds of her sex, twice. “But you will.” She could feel him grinning against her flesh. “You will.”

Excerpt 2 (NC-17):

Saara pulled Maxine’s hand to her lips and kissed her fingertips in invitation and Maxine froze like a deer caught in the headlights. She might have been interested in a threesome, but not this kind. Her nervous system kicked into flight or fight mode as she desperately searched her mind for a getaway. A warm hand caressed her back. And she jerked into awareness as long black hair spilled over her shoulders. Pacer’s arms crossed the front of her causing Saara to drop Maxine’s hand. “Maybe some other time,” he directed to the elf.

Maxine held stark still as the elf’s lower lip jutted in a pout.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” Meyer said, his full attention on Saara as the elf led him away from Maxine and Pacer.

“You can breathe now,” Pacer whispered in Maxine’s ear, his arms still holding her tight.

“Nice seeing you,” she squeaked, before her knees buckled and she let go of the long-suffering breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “Thank you.” If Pacer hadn’t come along, no telling how badly she would have handled the situation.

His hands slipped upward, crossing her chest, fingertips grazing her nipples as he turned her in his arms. “My pleasure. Most assuredly.”

Maxine groaned deep in her throat as visions of the naked hume danced through her head. Her gaze traveled to his eyes. She ground her teeth and fought the urge to jump up and straddle his muscled thighs.

Pacer satisfied the urge for her when he lifted her off the ground, pulling her legs about his waist. Maxine felt wild with desire and fear as he captured her lips with his and pulled her against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against her wet panties. She resisted for a whole nanosecond before thrusting her tongue into his mouth, meeting his passion with her desire and fervent need.

A deep moan rumbled from Pacer’s chest as his whole body vibrated against hers. He broke from the kiss briefly to call out. “I’m taking my break!”

Maxine didn’t notice if another dealer had replaced him as Pacer began walking toward the back of the casino, his tongue firmly back inside her mouth. His hands squeezed and massaged her ass, pulling and pushing so her pussy rubbed up and down over his clothing bound cock.

Her skin flushed, and a warm tingling prickled over every inch. He wasn’t headed to the lobby, to her room, but she didn’t care. She wanted him in her — riding her body until she quaked with pleasure. Maxine had never been so exposed, dry fucking the gorgeous man who carried her through the crowd of patrons who looked on as they disappeared behind a black velvet curtain.

The mood changed from gambling excitement to one of dark unbridled lust. Naked couples, threesomes, foursomes, and more filled the small room. Shock ripped down Maxine. Pacer had brought her to a regular orgy party. “Wait, wait,” she panted as his hand slipped under her dress and down into her panties.

“I want to fuck you so badly, Maxine Simms,” Pacer growled against her lips. “I can barely stand with the desire I feel for you.”

“I can’t… Not here…” She watched as naked bodies crawled over each other, thrusting, turning, licking and sucking. The sight gripped her stomach, and her pussy spasmed with excitement and the thrill of the forbidden.

“You want to.” He slipped a finger over her clit, squeezing it with the crook, and it swelled against him. Her pussy grew more drenched with desire as he continued his assault on her senses. “I can feel it in you. Let me take you, Maxine. Here and now. Open yourself to the possibility. Free yourself. It will make you feel more alive than you have ever felt.”

She glanced around the room through heavily lidded eyes, drinking in the hedonistic scene. A human man leaned forward against the wall as a pale beautiful male creature kissed his back before sliding his long, hard shaft into the human’s ass. The human cried out his pleasure as he pushed backward to take the other man’s cock deep within himself. A small female with silvery skin and wings slipped between the human and wall, taking the tourist’s length into her mouth, sucking, licking and caressing his balls as he fucked her face with the same ferocity with which he was getting fucked.

“Oh, God,” Maxine mumbled as her hips bucked forward involuntarily. She wanted to be possessed by the dark-haired hume, entirely and completely. In front of all these people, she wanted him to claim her. “Yes.”

He crossed dimensions to claim her as his queen—but her reign may destroy his world.

Excerpt 1

Adrienne© 2007 D. Reneé Bagby

http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/adrienne Adrienne Backett wants two simple little things this spring break: rest and relaxation. After nearly four years of slaving away for her college education, she deserves a holiday. What she gets is pulled into another dimension by a man who claims she’s his rightful queen.Malik, King of Ulan, has until his birthday to find his bride before he must forfeit his throne. When a spell reveals her location, he will do anything, even cross dimensions, to claim her as his own.

As if fending off a lusty king isn’t enough of a headache, Adrienne finds herself a pawn in a rival monarch’s plot to bring Malik’s world to its knees. But is the real danger being stuck in the middle of a power struggle between rival kingdoms? Or the damage Malik could do to her heart?

A Bron Universe Novel

Enjoy the following excerpt for Adrienne:

Malik lowered to his haunches in front of his bride. With a thought, he ended the shielding spell he’d erected around her before his attack started. Little droplets of the assailants’ blood fell to the ground—blood he hadn’t wanted to taint his bride’s skin.

The suffocating chill of her fear continued enveloping his body. He had caused that fear. Killing the two men while she watched showed poor judgment on his part. He would make it up to her at a later date. His priority was her freedom.

Once she saw that he meant her no harm, she would stop being scared of him. And he could regain a measure of his original warmth. Malik remembered his father telling him that he would feel his mate’s emotions and she would feel his. He hadn’t known this was what his father meant.

He reached out with the intention of removing her gag. Instead he brushed his fingers across her cheek. She flinched away from him.

Her reaction made him focus. There would be time to get to know her feel later.

He removed her gag, then cupped her bound hands in both of his. She tried to pull away but he held her.

“Don’t hurt me,” she rasped.

“I do not plan to, my lady,” Malik soothed in a low, soft voice. Her language, while remarkably similar to Oteino’s, felt cumbersome in his mouth. He wanted to use his own but decided the magicks needed to bridge the communication gap could be better used elsewhere.

With a single thought, he melted her chains. His bride’s earlier struggles had torn the skin around her wrists. Blood seeped from her wounds and coated her hands.

It was simple enough to heal her the way he had melted her chains, but Malik couldn’t help but make the act more intimate. He brought her wrists to his lips and breathed the healing magicks over her skin.

His bride opened her eyes and watched him. He smiled at her. She looked confused.

Correction, she was confused. The emotion felt like itself instead of a temperature. Malik knew he wasn’t confused, so the emotion belonged to her.

The chill of her fear started ebbing away. He took that as a good sign. With slow movements, he rose to his feet and pulled his bride to stand next to him.

She snatched her hands from him and rubbed her wrists. The feeling of her confusion intensified. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him.

“What?”

“I am Malik of Ulan, my lady. Your servant,” he said with a bow.

“My… Huh?”

“And your name?”

“Ad…Adrienne. Adrienne Backett.”

Malik told himself to stop staring at her so intently. The feel of her fear had returned and she looked ready to run. He reached for her hand to hold her at his side.

“I should go home now,” she said with a tug of her hand.

“Would you leave in such a state of disarray?”

Adrienne looked down at herself and gave a cry of shock. She snatched her hand away from his and pulled her shredded shirt together over her naked breasts.

Malik swept out his hand. A cloak appeared out of nowhere and he placed it over Adrienne’s shoulders. He brought the ends of it together in front of her. She grabbed the edges of the cloak with a murmured thank you.

He smiled at her bowed head. “Such as this is my pleasure, my lady, as I would do anything to make you happy.” He stepped closer to her, which forced her to look up at him. He asked softly, “Shall we return?”

“Return? Yes, I need to go home. My parents will be worried. If you tell me your address, I’ll mail this cloak back to you.”

“You misunderstand.” His voice remained low and soothing. “I meant my home.” He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her close. The action indulged his baser needs. He recognized the lust he felt. What he didn’t understand was his urgency.

Even when he was new to sex he had never felt this anxious to be with a woman. Something about Adrienne made him want to forget all the rules and have her now.

“Let go of me. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Malik bent to place his other hand under her legs and lifted her effortlessly against his chest.

“I’ll scream.”

“You could, as it is your right. I do not see the merit in it and think you would be better served with rest rather than theatrics.”

“I’m not…I…” Her words stumbled to a halt as sleep claimed her.

He smiled at his sweet burden. She would understand once he explained the entire situation to her. He laid a feather-light kiss on her temple before starting back the way he had come.

His fingers brushed over the hilt of his discarded sword when he passed it. The sword faded and disappeared. It would return when Malik needed it.

“Freeze!”

Malik looked back at the man who pointed a light, and what seemed to be a weapon, in his direction. It wasn’t every day someone dared command him to do anything—or threatened him. The sheer novelty of it made him obey.

“Okay, buddy, put the girl down nice and slow and back away.”

“Are you the guardian of this place?”

“Yeah. I’m the ‘guardian’, buddy,” agreed the security guard in a humoring tone. He pointed the flashlight at Adrienne. “I want you to put the girl down.”

“No. I would not leave her to such an incompetent guardian. Your aid has come too late, as I have done your job for you,” Malik said. He moved his gaze to the two bodies the guard had overlooked.

The guard glanced quickly in the direction Malik looked. “Holy Jesus,” he yelled.

“I leave the rest to you, then, guardian. You shall leave the girl to me.” Malik walked back to the portal. The guard yelled for him to come back, but the novelty had worn off so Malik ignored the man.

The guard ran to catch up. He would be too late.

Malik closed the portal after himself.

A soft sigh from Adrienne made Malik pause and look down at her. For the first time in a long time, Malik felt the burden of his rage alleviating. He had his bride. Everything else would fall into place from this moment forth.

He crossed dimensions to claim her as his queen—but her reign may destroy his world.

Excerpt 2

Adrienne© 2007 D. Reneé BagbyAdrienne Backett wants two simple little things this spring break: rest and relaxation. After nearly four years of slaving away for her college education, she deserves a holiday. What she gets is pulled into another dimension by a man who claims she’s his rightful queen.Malik, King of Ulan, has until his birthday to find his bride before he must forfeit his throne. When a spell reveals her location, he will do anything, even cross dimensions, to claim her as his own.As if fending off a lusty king isn’t enough of a headache, Adrienne finds herself a pawn in a rival monarch’s plot to bring Malik’s world to its knees. But is the real danger being stuck in the middle of a power struggle between rival kingdoms? Or the damage Malik could do to her heart?

A Bron Universe Novel

Enjoy the following excerpt for Adrienne:

“Impressive.” He came forward and placed his hand on Adrienne’s cheek. He smiled. “I would expect no less from my future queen.”

Proud. Adrienne felt proud. Her annoyance with Malik’s presence changed the second he touched her. She could have pulled away but decided not to, a small concession since he’d given in to her the day before—albeit to save his palace.

His touch was light and it didn’t seem like he would do more. She looked up at him. His eyes mirrored the pride she felt.

Malik was proud.

The emotion she felt was his. Knowing he was pleased with her tiny accomplishment made her happy—in a little kid kind of way. Any praise was good praise, no matter whom it came from.

Malik cupped her chin and moved closer. Her breathing sped up. Lust replaced pride. It slunk along her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps on her arms.

A muted crash made Adrienne jump in surprise. She stepped away from Malik, then looked around for the source of the sound. A three-feet-tall vase in the farthest corner of the room sat at a diagonal because the base had cracked when it hit the ground.

“I didn’t mean to break that one. It was actually kind of pretty.” Adrienne had forgotten about it. Floating the tiny blue vase for hours on end bored her so she had decided to split her attention between the blue one and the three-foot one without letting Mushira know. Hani had noticed but kept quiet.

Though Adrienne’s concentration had slipped, the blue vase continued to float. That made her feel a little better.

“That is why I said to limit your activities, Highness,” Mushira scolded lightly.

“The damage is minimal. A construction mage can fix it easily,” Hani said.

“I don’t want to bother them.”

“It is no bother for them to do their job, my lady,” Malik said. “Nimat, see to it.”

Nimat curtsied, then left the room.

“Speaking of bothering people…” Adrienne said, looking at Malik. She plucked the small vase out of the air before it became a victim of her wayward concentration. Its muffled laughter grew louder. The joke started off cute, now how did she shut it off?

“I promise you will only have to suffer my presence for a short time,” Malik said. He smiled when she rolled her eyes at him.

Adrienne sat in the window seat, then continued with her levitation practice. “I’d rather not be bothered at all. I’d also rather be back on Earth.” She spared him a glance, then turned her attention back to the vase. “But we both know what I want isn’t your first concern.”

Malik had prepared for this. He joined Adrienne on the window seat. It was wide enough to accommodate them both without him touching her, and he knew she wanted it that way.

“Your life here will not be as fearsome as you think, my lady. Beyond myself and our personal guards, there are many mages and warriors who are prepared to stand between you and harm.”

“Were these the same mages and warriors who stood between your parents and harm?”

Malik didn’t take offense. He knew Adrienne would lash out at him. He had prepared for physical, magickal and verbal abuse before he decided to visit her.

“No. Those charged with my parents’ protection were executed for failing in their task.”

“Makes you take your job more seriously when your life is hanging in the balance, too, huh?”

“Exactly, my lady,” Malik agreed in a cold voice.

Adrienne tapped the small vase. An identical vase appeared next to it, but this one darker. She plucked the lid off and it started to cry. Water dripped over the rim. She replaced the lid quickly, then asked, “How about I make everyone’s job simpler and never leave my room? Protecting me would be much easier if I’m always in one place.”

“So would attacking you,” he snapped. Malik regretted his words the second they left his mouth. Adrienne’s control on the vases faltered. He caught them—one in each hand—before they hit the ground. “I did not mean to say that, my lady. Forgive me.”

He held out the vases. He wanted to tell Adrienne how proud he was of her ability to not only animate the vases but to conjure another into being. She had no formal training and yet wielded magicks most mages had to spend decades learning to control. Only her imagination limited her abilities, the same as him.

Knowing she wouldn’t want his compliments stayed his praise. She wanted his absence. He couldn’t give it to her. “There is no danger here,” he offered, instead. “I have learned from my parents’ mistakes and do not rely solely on magicks. I have endeavored, in my years as ruler, to make this palace as safe as possible for your arrival.”

“So what? Even if the palace is safe, what about the rest of the world? I’m a prisoner here. If you really want to keep me safe, send me home, Malik.” She took the vases from him, then bent to place them on the floor.

Malik’s eyes narrowed. He kept his silence until Adrienne straightened and looked at him. “Need I remind you of your attack, my lady? I had not thought you would forget it so easily,” he said in a cool voice.

“Yes,” she agreed, “let’s talk about that. Because, God knows, when you aren’t winning an argument, bringing up the stupidity of the other party is a sure-fire way to win.” She held up a hand. “Spare me.”

She looked out the window.

“Then allow me to speak of more pleasant things.”

Malik smiled when she gave him a dismissive wave. She may not wish to be a queen, but she already conducted herself like one. In time, she would realize what Malik already knew. They were two of a kind and meant to be together.

Beach House: Old Friends by JJ Massa

Evie and Gibb are busy people with high-powered careers. Sometimes it seems like there’s no time to rest, relax, calm down.

What could be better than a week at the beach in the company of old friends? If only they could take it with them when the week is up…

BUY YOUR COPY

Turning to face forward, Evie settled against him. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Barely exchanging two words when we’re with the old crowd, working in the same industry but we don’t speak. And look at us now.”

Tightening his arms around her, Gibb inhaled a deep breath of her light scent and released it, not knowing what he should say. There was plenty he could tell her, but wouldn’t. “Maybe discretion really is the better part of valor,” he murmured, petting a hand over her long, satiny hair.

“Maybe,” she agreed. Angling her head slightly, she arched a delicate brow at him. “So how valiant are you feeling right this minute?”

Another little shift brought his erection against her lower back, answering the question for both of them. “Shit,” he growled, tilting his head against the lounger’s cushion.

“Supper out?” she asked sheepishly, scooting away from him on the chaise.

LATER:

Evie knew that Gibb had risen with her, some kind of choreographed dance. Reaching for him, she wasn’t surprised when he pulled her in, fingers threaded as she pressed against him.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, thought better of it and leaned over her. Pushing up against his hands, she stood on tiptoes, face to face with him. His eyes were intense, bolts of blue lightning against the fabric of a summer sky—hot and riveting.

She moved against him as he lowered his head, no teasing now. Masculine lips covered hers, warm, demanding, insistent as his tongue swept her willing mouth.

A new space opened inside her, pulling her in as she savored his unique flavor: red, red wine, wild summer oceans and spicy Gibb—Evie was quickly addicted. She held onto him, tasting, feeling, she was drunk on his heady flavor now and so little had happened yet. Knowing that there was more to come was nearly overwhelming as they made their way up the beach, kissing, stumbling as they went.

Amazing. Blown away. Overwhelmed. And they’d just barely touched. What would happen when they made love? And they would…were going to, were minutes away. The idea of it made Evie’s knees weak and she stumbled over the threshold.

“You still with me?” he rumbled, his arm around her back.

They were on the stairs now, she could make it that little bit further. “Fine,” she agreed, moving on automatic, eager like she’d never been before.

——————————————–
Reconciling Andrea
Part One
Length: 9,000 Words
Cover Artist: TLW

Life has been difficult for Andrea, but she’s a survivor. Sometimes surviving is so much harder than letting go.

Tadeo Rice has been looking for his soul mate. He’s been hearing her voice in his head for a year and knows she’s been suffering. When he finally finds her, will she accept him and all that he longs to do for her?

BUY YOUR COPY

“I’m telling you, Meredith,” Marty Stevens said to Tadeo Rice’s secretary, “he told me himself. This is the lady that he’s been…”

Both Marty and Meredith watched, agog, as Andrea bolted from their boss’s office.

She was only a few feet in front of them when the big guy himself snatched her around the waist. They could hear her erratic breathing that almost sounded like sobs. They watched the drama unfold with interest.

“Meu Deus, Andrea! I’ve searched for you too long to let you go!” Tadeo growled, turning her to press her against his body.

“No!” she cried, struggling. “You don’t really know me and I CERTAINLY don’t know you, MR. Rice!”

Unknowingly, she confirmed what Tadeo had intimated to Marty earlier. He was now convinced that Andrea had known his boss but hadn’t realized that he was billionaire, Tadeo Rice, head of Rice Hotels International. Apparently, she felt hurt and betrayed. Go figure.

“Andrea, you must listen to me! I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again!” He tried to calm her but she twisted and turned.

“You intend to do just what Father would do to me! NO! Let me go!”

Tadeo scooped her into his arms and barked, “Hold my calls and cancel everything!”

Clamping his mouth over hers, he whirled around with Andrea in his arms, still kissing her, and carried her into his office, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Oh my gosh!” breathed Meredith. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen… EVER!”

“I tried to tell you!” Marty couldn’t have been prouder if he’d orchestrated the whole thing himself.

“They must love each other so much. I’m gonna cry! I never thought such things were real!” Marty rubbed her shoulder, grinning to himself as Meredith crowed in romantic ecstasy.

———————————

The Edge by J.J. Massa

(expanded)

Detective Paytah has spent his entire life fighting to overcome ignorance and gain acceptance in a world too quick to judge. Always willing to take on any challenge, the tough-as-nails Native American has never shied away from the truth. Until he meets Tyler Baker, that is.

Tyler represents everything that Paytah hates; the blond haired blue-eyed gay detective with a penchant for bending the rules was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a champagne glass in his hand.

When Paytah is assigned to work with Tyler he anticipates that the partnership will be difficult. After all, working high profile serial murder cases are always challenging. But, as the case of the decade unravels, so does his ability to control his attraction and to deny his own needs.

This book by J.J. Massa has it all—passion, desire, intrigue, and an unforgettable ending that promises to take you to The Edge.

Available now!