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William exhaled, the whisper of his breath tickling Goldie's skin and bringing her eyes to his. “Then don’t marry him.” His gaze caressed her face. “Don’t have anything to do with him.” Surprise had her lower jaw agape. “Why?” He raked his fingers through his hair, hair that shone blue in the sunlight. “You’ll have to trust his brother.” Her curiosity piqued, she narrowed her gaze. “How can I trust a brother who won’t tell me all?” Annoyed, she handed him back the handkerchief. For a long moment, they stared at each other, a need in her arising that she couldn’t explain. A jolt of excitement stemmed from her abdomen and shot through her entire being. “You’re going to have to.” He pulled his hand from his glove and, reaching out, touched her cheek. She didn’t respond, far too aroused by the warmth that radiated from his fingertips. She was enthralled, enchanted. Reflected in his gray eyes, she saw a smoldering heat. “What are you doing?” He cupped the side of her face. “I don’t know.” He stepped close. Her heart beat so hard, her legs grew so weak, she felt as though she could tumble into him. Yet she needed to move back. Why was it her body refused to be moved? “Don’t you feel it? It’s remarkable, really.” As if pulled by some unknown force, he leaned in. “So powerful.” She tilted her chin, waiting for his lips to touch hers, needing them more than wanting. “Yes, but isn’t it wrong?” “It’s not. It can’t be.” With that said, he set his mouth atop hers, his lips every bit as amazing as she imagined…but more. They were just the right combination of hard and soft, the pressure perfectly suited to her desire—forceful enough to show her the passion that simmered within him, yet gentle enough to bring her closer. |
I ran away like my hair was on fire until I was out in the chilly February night. The cold air burned my lungs and my eyes watered. The encounter with the fortune teller had upset me to the point that my stomach ached and my hands shook. I leaned against the brick building trying to calm my nerves and stared out into the parking lot. The streetlights sparkled on the neatly parked cars. I spotted Harry's SUV. I smiled and thought of the warm back seat, Harry's soft lips and strong hands. "Fuck you, Madame Xavier. I'm celebrating Valentine's Day with a bang." I straightened and had taken three steps forward when I saw the dome light flicker on and off in Harry's SUV. I shoved my hands into the pocket of my plaid coat and walked toward the vehicle. As I approached, I noticed it was moving ... slow, rhythmic bouncing. Up and down, up and down. "No," I mumbled and my heart sank before rebounding into my throat. When I got my hands on the little bitch fucking my boyfriend I'd tear her eyes out and then his. I reached the SUV and crouched down. Squinting, I tried my damnedest to see inside but the windows were steamed up. I straightened and set my hand on the cold door handle and stilled. Deep guttural moans filtered through the door and settled like stone in my brain. Tears clouded my vision and I drew in a deep breath, readying myself for the inevitability of my discovery. My entire body shook, the taste of bile strong on my tongue. In a single movement I threw open the door and exposed the rotten lovers. A scream caught in my throat when I saw my beautiful Harry's not so beautiful naked backside. I blinked in disbelief. The woman beneath him had long legs, thick with corded muscle and in need of a shave. They must have been going at it like a couple of dogs because besides the back of her legs all I could see were the bottom of her feet. I scowled, those feet were easily a size thirteen, and damn, they needed a pedicure. Is that athlete's foot? "Jeez, Harry. Is that the best you can do?" He turned around. Sweat clung to his hair making the blonde locks a light brown. His face contorted and all the blood must have sunk to his dick because his cheeks blanched an ugly shade of green. "Hey," he managed. "Who is she?" I squealed. “I’m not a she,” the masculine voice echoed from inside the SUV. I had heard that voice before. “Shawn?” I lowered myself to the ground and buried my face in my hands. “Harry, you’re gay.” |
Excerpt: Speed Trap |
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she protested. “Put your hands on the hood.” Her body quaked as he patted her down. When his hand skimmed over her thighs and across her buttocks, a strange surge coursed through her and her stomach tightened into a knot. “What are you doing?” “I’m taking you into the station,” he answered in monotone. She turned to face him and saw him removing handcuffs from his belt. “You don’t have to do that. I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t want…” Davidson grabbed her wrist and spun her around, bending her over the hood. His body rested against the backs of her thighs and again she felt it, the unexpected jolt of excitement. Not the time! She felt herself becoming more and more turned on by his take-charge manner. “What don’t you want?” he asked, cuffing her and pulling her to standing. “I-I don’t want my boyfriend to find me.” Davidson lowered her into the squad car and removed his glasses. Blue—his eyes were silver blue, but difficult to read. “You steal his car?” he asked, pointing at the primer gray GTO. “No.” “He can’t report it stolen?” “No,” she said again, her tears running in salty rivulets down her cheeks. “But if he knows where the car is, he’ll know where to find me.” Davidson blew out a disgusted breath. “Before I take you in, tell me everything and I’ll see what can be done.” She closed her eyes tight at the memory of Dwayne’s latest attack. How could she put what almost happened into words without bawling like a baby? “He thinks he owns me. I told him I wanted out. I didn’t want or need him anymore.” “Go on,” he coaxed, his voice softer and sweeter than she would have believed possible. “I’ve heard it all before.” “He started sending me flowers at work, calling and hanging up…” Tears stung anew and fell in large drops. Her lower lip quivered and she looked to Davidson for reassurance. He offered a gentle smile. “Last week he broke into my house and tried to…” The memory of him ripping at her clothes, and prying her legs apart tore into her soul. A sob escaped her lips before she could stifle it. Davidson rested his hand on her shoulder, the warmth and tenderness of the gesture urging her on. “The police came and arrested him, but his brother is the chief. I knew he’d get out and be back.” She shifted her weight. With her hands still cuffed, her wrists ached and she couldn’t wipe away her tears. “I threw some shit into a bag and got the hell out of there.” “What about your family?” She shook her head. “My folks left me with my granny when I was a baby. Granny’s been gone for near six years now. Nothing’s been right since.” Davidson knelt down by the open car door and removed a red bandanna handkerchief from his back pocket. Wiping away her tears, he asked, “Where are you heading?” Raising her head, she looked up at him. “It looks like I’m going to jail.” “No, sweetheart.” Davidson winked. “I’m gonna believe you.” He helped her out of the car and removed the cuffs. “I may be a fool for doing it but I can’t see risking your life for a little money in the city’s coffers.” “Thanks.” She smiled and without thought reached up and touched his arm. Beneath the light fabric of his pale blue uniform shirt, she felt a well-toned bicep. When her gaze came to his, she caught a flash of interest and her breath caught in her throat. “What you going to do now?” he asked. “You got no money, no I.D., nothing.” “I guess I’ll go back to the place I filled up and hope that they have my wallet. I don’t want to. It’s well over a hundred miles ago.” “You remember the name of the place? You could call. Chances are no one is gonna turn it in. You’re probably pretty well screwed on ever seeing that again.” She felt around her pants pocket. “I have a receipt.” She offered it to him and he examined it. “What’s your name?” “Libby Collins.” ‘Well, Ms. Collins, I’ll call it in and have some folks look into it for you.” “They’ll do that for me?” He grinned. “Here in White Springs it will be something interesting to do. The occasional speeder is about the most excitement we get in a day.” He disappeared into the cruiser and talked into the radio. Returning to where she leaned against the GTO, he ran an appreciative finger over the hood. “Annie’s taking care of it.” “Thank you.” “What are you going to do in the meantime?” She scrubbed her hands over her tired face. “I guess I’ll find a nice parking spot and wait.” He cocked his head and grinned. “I’m off duty ’til tomorrow. What do you think about coming home with me for supper?” His voice was softer, his manner changed, and as tempted as she was by the offer, she shook her head. “I couldn’t do that.” “Why not? It’s food and a place to wash up before you leave White Springs.” He leaned forward and put his mouth close to her ear. “I ain’t a bad sort.” His warm breath caused a delightful chill and her nipples tightened. He pulled back and smiled. “What do you say?” |
“Cut.” Thank God, Delilah James thought as she pushed the godlike actor off and reached for her robe. Pulling the terry cloth over her shoulders, she covered her nudity. It never ceased to amaze her how these guys could turn a love scene into a dry hump fest. “Good job, Dee,” the director said. “Thanks.” She hurried to her dressing room, unable to make eye contact with the crew that moments ago had seen every part of her anatomy that an R-rated movie would allow. When the camera was on, she could be a moaning, groaning slut, but when the scene was over, she rushed for cover. Being a body double wasn’t something she had wanted to be when she came to L.A. five years ago. She had seen herself becoming a star of the silver screen, setting her hand and foot prints in cement. Her first double job had been to pay the rent until she got her face on camera. Now, the only way the public would know her was if they saw her ass or tits. She may as well never touch lipstick or eye shadow again. No one was interested in her face or her acting abilities. Self-doubt had long ago taken control and although she hadn’t accepted the death of her dream, she was beginning to think this was all there was for her. In her dressing room, she showered before changing into street clothes and combing her blond hair. She applied a little makeup and pondered the ridiculousness of her career choice. Why not porn? she asked herself. Why not centerfolds so men can masturbate over my photograph? It had become difficult to look in the mirror. Yet she did. Every day she made sure the makeup was perfect. Just the right shade of foundation, blush, eye shadow, and mascara. And never forget to shine up your lips. When the day was done, take the makeup off and slather every inch with moisturizer. When her cell phone chirped, she recognized her agent’s number. “Hello?” “Hey, Dee. What’s up?” “Not much. Just got laid in front of a set full of people,” she said sarcastically. In truth, the last time anyone had fucked her, she was drunk and didn’t even remember it all. She frowned and sat on the tatty sofa. “Other than that, I’m just fine.” “Good.” Michelle laughed. “At least you can get laid. I’ve not had any since 1987.” “Anything new to report?” she asked, biting a thumbnail. “Got another part for you. Are you available next week?” “You know I’m supposed to go see my folks,” she reminded, trying to straighten the now crooked false nail. “It’s their thirtieth anniversary. I’m not available. Unless…” “Yeah?” Michelle asked. “Unless it’s a real acting gig and not another grunt fest.” “Just a shower scene. No one but you and the crew.” Frustration tugged at her throat and she felt the familiar knot and threat of tears. Rubbing her hand over the fabric of her jeans, she said, “Sorry I can’t. I’ll be gone for two weeks. I’m tired, Michelle.” “I know.” The sympathetic tone in her voice eased Dee’s tension. She blew out a frustrated breath. “I can do it before I go if you move the date up. I can’t miss this party. I haven’t been home in years and Mom’s looking forward to seeing me. This is a big deal for the folks. God knows not many people out here make it through thirty years of marriage.” |
Mandy moaned as Thad’s full lips seized hers. Her body arched against him, his hands fondled her breasts. Those talented hands that strummed a guitar and penned beautiful songs played her body with practiced care. Kissing her, his tongue slid into her mouth. He tasted like whiskey and smelled of spicy cologne. Nibbling her ear, he continued to stroke her body, his fingers taking in every inch of her, and leaving ripples of desire in their wake. She squirmed, eager to receive him. His steely prick evaded her as he continued his seductive assault. “Hurry,” she panted. Rising above her, he stared into her eyes. “No hurry, baby. We got all night.” Beep-beep-beep. At the sound of the tiresome alarm clock, Mandy’s dream of Thad Curtis fucking her disintegrated and the mundane reality of her life took control. Get up, make coffee, shower and go to work for the horrible, overstuffed Morris Benjamin. A man who believed he could take it with him. Mandy and her coworker Liz Varden affectionately dubbed each other “Bob” and “Cratchett”. “Damn, it was just getting good,” she grumbled and picked up the offensive ticker, tossing it across her bedroom. It landed with a gentle thud on the carpet. Flipping on the radio at her bedside, she hoped a little music would get her going. “Good Morning, Nashville,” the announcer Mark Maddox said, his voice so chipper, if she could, Mandy would have smacked the crap out of him. “Everyone knows Mr. Thad Curtis is coming to town. Be caller number ten and win a copy of his new CD, Here I Come.” Mandy chuckled. “In my dreams.” “That’s not all,” Mark continued. “We’re going for the grand prize today. That means you’ll win limo service, a ten minute one-on-one meet and greet, and tickets, front row center, for tomorrow night’s concert. All you have to do is be caller number ten. Here’s the number, 555-WTEN. Call…now!” Mandy jerked her phone from its cradle and began to punch the numbers, each time getting a busy signal. Her heart sank as she entered the digits for the tenth time. Shit, still busy. One more time and then I have got to get a move on. To Mandy’s delight, the phone on the other end rang. It rang three, four, five times. “What’s taking so long?” she whispered. By the tenth ring, she had all but given up. “Congratulations, you’re our winner.” “I am?” Mandy asked, astonished. She held the phone tight to her ear. “Can I have your name please?” Mark asked, his animated tone no longer grating on her like fingernails against a chalkboard. “Mandy…Mandy Evans.” “Where are you calling from, Mandy?” “White Springs.” Mandy plopped back on her pillows and pulled her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. Excited jolts of electricity coursed through her, making it difficult to be still. I’m going to see Thad in concert. Beautiful Thad Curtis, who only moments before, had the ability to bring her to a dreamy climax. The thought of seeing his tall, muscular frame, blonde curls, and green eyes up close and personal made her heart race. “You a Thad fan?” Mark’s voice was almost an intrusion into her daydream. “Yes.” She giggled with childish glee. “Well, you’re in for a treat tomorrow.” |
Excerpt: Torrid Teasers Volume 30--The Groupie |
Read an Excerpt or head home |
"Something else you need to know about me. When I see something I want, I'm more than willing to work for it. Fight for it if necessary." Mac bent over and leaned in, brushing a kiss across Lindy's lips. And she let him. She closed her eyes, the sensation of his touch making her tingle all over. "Now, am I going to spend the next week searching for a place to live, or are you and I going to pick up where we left off?" Her eyes popped open. "You're that sure of yourself?" she asked, lowering her legs to the floor, her gaze never leaving his face. "That just because you say what you think a woman wants to hear, she'll melt at your feet?" "No, I'm not playing games," he stated, his arms across his chest. "I want you. I'm not afraid to tell you. If you want me to go, say the word. But honestly, Lindy, do you think you can deny the magic between us?" "Mac." She sighed, her resistance fading. "There are ten years between us. When I’m in my mid-sixties, you’ll be cutting your teeth on middle age. That doesn't bother you in the slightest?" "No, but it sure as hell seems to bother you," he replied. “I think I'm old enough to know when I'm attracted to someone." He chuckled. "When I look at you, I don't see age, I see someone who made me the happiest man in the world." Against her will, her heart sang at the words. "You were young," she said, and rose to her feet. "That was just sex." "You truly believe that's all it was?" She forced herself to nod. "It wasn't just sex for me." "And I told you, I'm in a relationship." His mouth tightened, and his eyes narrowed. "He ask you to marry him?" "That's not the point," she replied, her hands on her hips. "I'm not available." He bent forward, his gaze intense as he explored her face. "You in love with him?" She raised her chin and looked away, refusing to meet his stare. "That is none of your business." "Sounds like you're not all that unavailable." |
Excerpt: Yesterday's Indiscretion |
Excerpt: Goldie and The Three Behrs |
Excerpt: My Funny Valentine Anthology, featuring Curses and Kisses |
Excerpt: Torrid Teasers Volume 30--The Body Double |
Excerpt: The Demon is in the Details |
Zane stood firm for a moment and looked at Stella. The soft yellow rays from the porch light cast her in an ethereal glow. Stella Campbell sure was pretty with her wild dark auburn locks and gorgeous green eyes. Still, the sorrow that lurked in those jade orbs touched him. God, he hoped he could help her. Still, when their gazes met, there was no denying the pop of electricity between them and despite the pleasant warmth that spread across his body and reminded him he was a man, he knew better than to make her more than just a client. He reined in his physical reaction and took a step back, ready to escape. "Seven a.m. too early?" The question went unanswered at the sound of spinning gravel and the beams from a set of headlights cut through the canopy of darkness. He turned. A police car pulled to a stop beside his pick-up. Zane slid Stella a glance. Her face had gone white; even her soft, pouty mouth seemed to blanch. This time when he reached out and placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on the small of her back, she didn't pull away from the contact. In fact, she leaned into him and damn it, he liked it. His heart kicked up a notch and a protective heat encased him. Yep, there was no denying it. He was here for her and judging by the way she shook at the officer's approach, she was more of a wreck than he imagined. A portly cop rounded the car. His large belly hung over his gun belt, hiding the buckle from all except those with supernatural, x-ray vision. "Evenin'" the officer said, his pudgy face tinged red with the effort it took to climb the stairs. Silverton's finest certainly needed to lay off the Moon Pies and R.C. Colas. "Evening," Zane said, sliding his arm around Stella's waist, savoring the feel of the trim arc beneath his hand. "Officer Lankford," Stella said, her voice quaking. "What can I do for you?" Lankford ran stubby fingers through his graying hair. "Sorry about Ms. Lou," he said eyeing the house. "Thank you," she managed and looked away. Was that shame he sensed? Silence echoed through the still evening air. "Is there a problem?" Zane asked, hoping to ease the tension that racked her soft, curvy body. Damn it, he needed to stop. "Not really," Lankford remarked shifting his weight on stout legs. "There's just been a rash of-" He looked over his shoulder as if he feared the shadows in the nearby woods listened to his every word. "…a rash of animal sacrifices." At Stella's sharp intake of breath, Zane glanced her way. If possible her face grew paler, her skin almost transparent. "A-Animal sacrifices?" Her voice was weak and her fear apparent by the trembling of her delicate jaw. "Yes. I wanted to advise you that what with the solstice and all coming up, you know them silly kids pretending to be pagans and devil worshippers…well, you might want to keep your eyes peeled." She nodded. "Are they happening here? On Lou's property?" "Nope, but real close." He pointed south. "Over by Paulson's farm." "Oh, that is close," she whispered. "What sort of sacrifice? Cat, dog?" Zane asked. He glanced at Stella and saw by her expression she thought he was a freakin' ghoul. The truth was you could tell a lot about a devil worshipper by the animal he chose. God, he hoped Lankford didn't say goat. "Some chickens, a cow, but mostly goats." "Damn," Zane mumbled. "Those poor animals," Stella said, her hand coming to rest on her chest. Lankford nodded. "Well, just wanted to give you a heads up. Call dispatch if you see anything at all strange, all right? And Ms. Campbell, try not to get into any trouble." "Oh, yeah. Okay," she replied but her words sounded weak, her breathing heavy. The warning apparently lost on her as she stared past the fat cop and toward the direction of Paulson's farm. "Good." The officer tilted his head toward them and ambled off leaving Zane to wonder just what sort of evil had brought him to this place. |
Chloe flopped back down on the settee and fought her irritation. "Is that what you want Jude? To be an officer?" He faced her, his expression one of despair. "I haven't exactly met my full potential as a gentleman." She couldn't disagree with that, for Jude had much potential but seemed completely content to live a life of indolent ease. There was no desire to better himself, to forge ahead and make his own way. Since meeting him, he had done little to divert from the well-worn path of his ancestors. That particular path was littered with debauchery and womanizing. "Perhaps you could change that?" "How?" he asked, raising a dark brow. "I have been groomed for uselessness." "I don't know, Jude." She felt like throwing her hands up in hopelessness. "What are your aspirations? What is something you'd like to do? If you truly want to be a soldier, then I support that decision." His features visibly slumped. "I don't want to be a soldier. I want to continue doing what I'm doing. I like my life. I like to hunt, to fish, to laugh and spend time with you." She shook her head. "You're content then to do nothing." "I hardly call bedding Lady Archmont nothing. It was hard work. The game took me all of last summer and much of the fall to win." His flippant reminder had her stomach aching. "All you did was chase after a notorious harlot. That in itself could not have taken much effort. Is that what you want to be remembered for?" Another reason she'd hardly ever consider giving her heart to him. He wasn't trustworthy, that was a certainty. "And what's wrong with that? Most men in my position do exactly what I'm doing. And if they're not, they wish they were." "Oh Jude." She shook her head disapprovingly. "I think the world of you, you know that. But if you plan on doing nothing of substance, then you may as well marry the dowager. She will bankroll your lifestyle and have as little expectation of you as you do for yourself." She stood and pressed her hand to her stomach, hoping to quell the upset. "I'm going to retire. I'm tired and full of despair for you. Do whatever you must, but know I wish more for you and from you." Jude's jaw tightened, the tension in his face turned his usually light and pleasant demeanor dark. "Are you turning against me, too?" he asked. "I never thought I'd see the day you and Mother agreed upon anything." She met his gaze. "No, I want what's best for you, but I can't make you into the man I know you can be. That's a decision you have to make on your own." "Are you saying I'm not a man?" He came closer to her, so close she could feel the anger emanating from his core. His stare pierced her heart, for mixed with his rage was anguish and hurt. His gaze so pained that she ached for him. Had she done that to him? Had she hurt him without meaning to? A guilty lump filled her throat. "I-I don't know what I'm saying." He leaned in close, the whisper of his breath enticing against her cheek. "It doesn't matter what Mother thinks. It doesn't matter what society thinks, but Chloe, it does matter what you think." "Why's that?" she asked, taking in a deep breath, alarmed by his seriousness. "Because I'm in love with you." |
Excerpt: An Unwilling Baroness |