Back Cover Blurbs & Excerpts: *Warning: Excerpts explicit. For those only 18 or older.
Sweet Summer Rain (Cajun Erotica Bk. 1):
Jonas Horville is issued an ultimatum: Sacrifice his soul mate’s love or his mother’s life.
Jonas grew up hard and fast. He longs for a life of peace and contentment. When his search ends in the arms of his boss’s daughter, Nikki Dugas, Jonas is determined to make her his wife.
When faced with the prospect of his mother’s impending death, he is given the unholy ultimatum that leads to an unforgivable betrayal.
Two years later, Nikki Dugas, is back in Harrisburg, Louisiana to bury her past and reclaim her life. Just one meeting with her former lover and Nikki’s long denied desire to be sexually dominated resurfaces.
Jonas and Nikki desperately want to salvage their love and passion; but first they must overcome the perverted obstacles set in place by a trusted family member.
Love, bondage, and a hint of ménage-a-trois light the spark that fuels this Cajun inferno.
EXCERPT:
After getting the water to the right temperature as quickly as possible, Jonas slipped into the warm water. He'd just gotten himself comfortable when he heard a noise directly outside the bathroom door. "Nikki, you okay?" He sat up straighter, his arms on the edges of the tub for leverage in case he needed to bolt out.
She didn't answer him, and Jonas was preparing to get out of the tub when he saw the movement of the door handle turning. Nikki slipped into the bathroom.
Jonas looked at her in surprise. "Need something?"
"Yes. . .yes, I do need something," Nikki said slowly and looked pointedly at him. She leaned back, closing the door as she moved.
Jonas could see her breathing quicken. Her breasts rose and fell beneath the light cream material of her shirt. She was leaning against her arms so her tits thrust forward, giving Jonas a plain view of her hard, aroused nipples.
Oh, shit!
"I thought you were going to wait for me in the bedroom," Jonas reminded her. He was trying to keep his head, but his dick's head had a mind of its own, springing to attention as soon as he observed Nikki's adorable nipples straining against her shirt.
Jonas sat back down, but his erection was still sticking out of the water, begging for attention.
Nikki walked over to the tub. She gazed down hungrily at his straining flesh. Jonas knew he should tell her to go back into the other room so they could talk before anything happened, but he couldn't make himself say the words. She picked up the washcloth draped over the edge of the tub and knelt on the old tiled covered floor. She reached over Jonas to pick up the bar of soap.
"Nikki, you're gonna get wet," Jonas protested, but his eyes devoured the site of her leaning over him.
"Oh, yes, you're right," Nikki agreed, and placed the soap back into the aluminum holder mounted on the edge of the tub.
Jonas couldn't suppress the feeling of disappointment rising in him when he watched her replace the washcloth also. He knew it was for the best, but he would have loved to feel her ardent hands washing his body.
When Nikki rose, Jonas realized she was going to leave the room. His disappointed gaze watched her movements carefully. He saw her glance down at his rigid shaft once more and lick her lips. Jonas groaned, closed his eyes, and let his head fall back against the back edge of the tub. When he heard the rustling sound of her leaving the room, his eyes shot open.
But the sight greeting him was not Nikki leaving; it was Nikki pulling her shirt up over her head.
Oh, sweet lord!
Jonas flexed his hands on the edge of the tub on either side of him. He should say something to stop her. They really needed to talk first. But he couldn't tear his gaze away from the black lace bra Nikki wore. He watched silently as she reached for the front clasp, releasing her straining tits from their imprisonment.
He was trying to be reasonable and keep a clear head. "Nikki, you shouldn't."
Nikki frowned and started to bring the clasp back together. "You don't want me, Jonas?"
Jonas could tell his seeming rejection hurt her. He muttered a strangled noise and reached toward her with his nearest hand. "Shit, Nikki. Yes, I want you, but I thought we were supposed to have a talk tonight."
"We can talk," Nikki protested, and released the clasp to reveal her tits to him again. "Can I come in?"
Damn it to hell! With Nikki naked and in the tub with him, Jonas knew there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on what she said.
He watched helplessly as she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. His gaze shot back up to her tits. Her lightly tanned complexion glowed warmly in the light emanating from the single bulb hanging from the bathroom ceiling. Jonas could see the delicate blue veining of her breasts. He wanted to trace them with his fingers and then with his tongue. He watched avidly while her breasts swung forward as she bent to push her jeans down so she could step out of them. The matching black panties she wore were still in place. Nikki was stripping for him! His gaze flew to her face.
She knew! She was deliberately trying to turn him on. Nikki smiled slowly, seductively, her golden eyes glowing. She moved closer to Jonas, the pleasant little jiggle of her bust, turning him rock hard. Nikki then hooked both of her thumbs through the top of her panties and through the leg holes, slowly easing them down.
Jonas knew she was watching him as he hungrily watched her. He knew she saw him staring at her lush bush, and relishing the sight of the swing and sway of her tits as she stripped for him.
Nikki stood up straight when she was completely naked. Jonas looked at her smiling expression.
"Well?" she asked expectantly.
"Well, what?" Jonas practically croaked.
"Can I join you?"
"I think I'll die if you don't."
Cajun Fire (Cajun Erotica Bk. 2):
To fulfill a man’s dying wish. . .
Jubal Horville is a man on a mission: to find the son his father abandoned years before and reunite them. He encounters and is blown away by the blond haired pixie, Lizabeth, but she has a secret, one that threatens his mission and their growing relationship.
Living a lie. . .
Lizabeth Horville has lost the only identity she’s known, that of the eldest Horville child. In her search to find herself, she discovers something: she yearns for a master, a man who can control her mind, body, and soul. When the confident, devil-may-care, Jubal, comes to town, he takes her senses by storm, making her long to give herself to him completely.
Time is running out. . .
Lizabeth must come to terms with her demons or risk losing the man of her dreams forever.
EXCERPT:
Lizabeth's hands still trembled as she pushed down, trying to straighten her shorts. Jubal watched her with hooded eyes. Feeling his gaze as she flipped her hair over her head, she removed the band keeping it in the ponytail. She pulled the mane up to the top of her head so she could redo it. By the time she was done and flipped the silken strands back over her head, Jubal looked like he was ready to give her another go.
But he shook his head, as if to clear it. No, Jubal would be harder to seduce than the local country boys. A swish of her behind in their direction and they were ready to crumble. This was a man, not a boy. If she were to guess, she'd say he was around thirty. From their game, she'd realized quickly that he was the man she'd been longing for since her sexual escapades began. This man could command her to his will.
"Now for a few questions. D o you know a family named Horville, Lizabeth?" Jubal asked, his tone efficient.
Lizabeth started at the sound of her family's name on his lips. Oh, no, her family couldn't be in trouble could they? Lizabeth had to find out what he was up to before she gave him any information.
"Yes, I've heard of them. Why?" Lizabeth couldn't keep the suspicion out of her tone.
"It's a personal matter, which I really can't discuss right now," Jubal responded, which caused Lizabeth's suspicion level to rise.
What should she do? D amn it! She wanted him, but she couldn't find happiness at the expense of her family. Instinctively, from the moment she first laid eyes on him, she felt like she could trust him; but could she really? She had even surprised herself at the speed with which she gave in to him. Up to this point in her life, she'd always been very careful to find out about the guys she was interested in pursuing. D espite her feelings, she would not endanger her family.
Lizabeth turned to leave.
"Wait, can you help me?" Jubal asked as he strode in front of her, turned her back to face him, and held her by the shoulders.
Shit! Just his touch had her ready to melt into his arms. This man was dangerous to her nerves.
"I'm not sure."
"Not sure? Either you know them or you don't. Can you help me or can't you? I'm sure there are other people here I can ask." Jubal turned to let himself out of the abandoned warehouse.
Shit! Lizabeth had to think fast. Until she could get it out of him as to why he was looking for her family, she didn't want him talking to anyone else.
"Hold on," Lizabeth blurted out.
Jubal turned back slowly to gaze at her, an expectant look on his face, in those silver eyes, that could make her shiver with delight. "Yes?"
She swallowed with difficulty, sucked up her courage, and blurted out, "I have a proposal."
"Yes?" he repeated.
"I'll explain it; but you have to meet me somewhere else." Would he accept Lizabeth's challenge?
"You'll give me what I want?" Jubal queried.
"We'll see. You'll have to work for it," Lizabeth told him with finality.
Lizabeth could tell by the look on his face that he was skeptical. After a few seconds of him deciding whether he should take the time to play her game, he nodded.
"All right, Lizabeth, you're on. Where shall we meet?"
Lizabeth gazed in anticipation at his muscular body outlined perfectly by his black T-shirt and tight blue jeans. His short, cropped black hair had an appeal all its own. But it was those silver blue eyes that sent her reeling when she'd first seen them gazing at her with a heat she recognized immediately.
In seconds, Lizabeth gave him the directions to the house at 123 Fern Street. "I'll meet you there in thirty minutes, come around to the back screened porch."
"Fine," Jubal agreed shortly.
Was he angry with her? Well, no matter. She would do what she had to do to protect her family. And once she told him the truth, he would understand her motives were pure. Well, maybe not completely pure. Lizabeth smiled at him. Jubal's lips quirked into a grin. Maybe he wasn't angry after all?
Taming Thera (Medieval short in LUST Anthology from WCP):
In Medieval England, where a female had little control over her life, rebellious Thera Perceval spent her youth wishing she’d been born amale. Enraged when her father informs her she is to wed, she is determined to convince her betrothed of her unsuitability.
Instead of fighting Sir Ranulf, the knight sent to train her, Thera thrives under his very intimate tutelage, until she can no longer deny her feelings. When they come to the end of their journey, her heart is breaking to think their lessons must end and she must give herself to a man she does not love. Can Thera defy her father’s will to fight for the love of the only man who could ever be her master?
EXCERPT:
How far would she let him go, before putting up a protest of modesty?
After that intriguing thought, Ranulf set about disrobing the girl as far down as was proper without being indecent. Although he was sorely tempted to remove every stitch of her clothing, he stopped at her shift. The garment was made of thin unbleached linen, and with her back to him, he could make out the rounded globes of her buttocks. With his hands gripping her slight shoulders, Ranulf whirled her around to face him.
She was surprised at this sudden movement, and her mouth dropped open, revealing her lovely white teeth. However, after a momentary look at her surprised face, Ranulf couldn't prevent his gaze from dropping down to the front of her practically transparent shift. He could make out the pebbled hardness of her nipples pressing against the front of her garment, before his gaze was irresistibly drawn to the midnight color of her thatch, seen clearly through the transparent shift.
The girl must have noticed the intense interest on Ranulf's face, because she blushed becomingly and tried to ease her shoulders from his grasp. Her action wrenched him from his lascivious thoughts and brought him back to himself. By the rood! The girl had him forgetting all his plans.
"Allow me," Ranulf said as he divested her of her golden circlet and veil, which hid the glory of her hair from him. He was dumbfounded. Her hair was as black as midnight, at the moment plaited, but Ranulf spun her around once more so he could release the glorious tresses from their confinement.
Once that was done, he let his fingers glide through her hair, which was as lustrous as the finest imported silk he'd ever felt.
He thought he heard the girl choke. "Is anything amiss, my lady?"
"Nay. . .nothing is amiss, Sir Ranulf," she insisted, but she sounded breathless.
Ranulf knew if he didn't get her into the water soon, he would be making love to her in a thrice. "Try the water. 'Tis cool though, so do not be startled."
She nodded without looking back at him and walked over ere sliding into the stream. He heard her give a surprised gasp even though he'd warned her of the chilly water. When she turned around to look at him expectantly, his gaze was riveted on the tightly furled tips of her breasts.
He heard himself swallow harshly at the sight she presented. Her midnight hair flowed around her like a veil of black flame, cascading down and floating on the water about her slender hips. The expression in her gray eyes compelled him to join her at her bath. Now the decisive moment was at hand, Ranulf hesitated. He could feel the insistent press of his sword against his breeches, urging him to find safe haven within the warm sheath of her comely body.
"Won't you join me, sir?"
"Nay, my lady, mayhap I will avail myself once you are finished."
Ranulf smiled when he saw her give a moue of disappointment. So the girl did want his company.
How intriguing.
As Ranulf watched her wring out her bathing cloth and begin washing her face, her unconsciously graceful movements mesmerized him. Once she'd washed her throat and arms with the now soapy linen, it took all Ranulf's will not to say God curse everything and join her in the cool stream.
After she'd soaped her delicate throat and shoulders, she dipped her body completely into the stream. She shot back up with a gasp, wet hair plastered to her head and body, her shift now completely translucent. She pushed all her hair out of her face and looked up at him on the bank.
God's wounds! He could stand it no longer! His will broken, Ranulf barked at her. "Close your eyes!" he commanded her, and obviously something in his voice urged her to obey him without question.
Ranulf divested himself of most of his togs, leaving his braies as a barrier to prevent temptation, and joined Thera. When he stood before her, touching her shoulders with his hands, her eyes shot open, looking at the expanse of his bare chest with an enigmatic look in her lovely eyes. Did the crisscross of scars across his chest repulse her? In his urge to get to her, he'd forgotten all about the wounds that might cause a young virgin's disgust.
When she remained silent, Ranulf went to turn away from her. But she grabbed his arms and cried, "Nay, do not!"
Ranulf looked down at her in surprise.
"Do not hide yourself from me, good knight! I was surprised at all the badges of honor you sported, is all. Please, do not turn away."
To say her reaction surprised him would not correctly confer the depths of it.
He remained stone still as he felt her gaze rake over the battle scars on his chest and the ones that ran up his neck to end at his jaw line.
"May I?" she asked Ranulf and after receiving his stiff nod of consent, began trailing the tips of her fingers over the scarred ridges.
Verily, she acted as if his hideous scars had her in awe, but it wasn't until she walked through the waist deep water and went around his back that he felt the extent of her wonder. At the first touch of her lips against the ridges of his scars, Ranulf sucked in his breath sharply.
Forsooth, the girl had him practically unmanning himself with her actions. He continued to stay as still as a statue while he let her have her head. He knew he should stop her?the girl was under the impression Ranulf was her tutor?but she didn't seem to let that thought reach her as she kissed and touched his scars with what almost seemed like reverence.
"Am I not hideous to you, lady?" Ranulf had to ask.
"Nay, sir knight, you are all that is mighty and strong to me."
Sex Machine (Sci Fi short story #1 in Kazphyrian series in Torrid Teaser Volume 21)
If android technician, Teena Andrenas doesn't find a mate before she turns thirty, she'll be forced to take one. When she gets the chance to repair one of the legendary Zand pleasure 'droids, she is tempted to use the 'droid for her first sexual experience. Although she refrains, he does offer her one thing she cannot resist: the chance to meet the man responsible for creating the famous 'droids and the first Zand pleasure 'droid ever created.
Zand Gorsend is mated to his work. He scarcely has time to experience the pleasures he offers with the sale of his androids. When the the intriguing Teena invades his office, he is amused by her mistaken impression. Amusement soon turns to passion, when during her 'observation' of him, the two end up in each other's arms.
Can Zand convince Teena he is real and meant to be her one, true mate?
EXCERPT:
"Congratulations, Mistress."
Teena Andrenas started when the deep sexy voice came out of the gorgeous android before her. Although she should have expected it. He was one of the extremely rare Zand pleasure 'droids she'd only ever heard rumors concerning. She never thought she'd get her hands on one?literally.
"Thank you, uh. . .What are you called?" she asked after she realized the work order had not given a specific name for the 'droid.
"I am called Zand Ten, Mistress."
Since he'd risen from his place on her worktable, Teena was feeling small and fragile next to the muscular 6'4 pleasure 'droid dream. She even found herself feeling flustered in his company, now that she'd repaired his circuits and he looked, for all accounts, like a living, breathing person. Even knowing he was an android built specifically to bring only sexual pleasure to another person, she couldn't suppress her instinctive response to him. His midnight black hair and smoky gray eyes would cause any sexual being's circuits to sizzle.
Stop it, Teena; you're above all this nonsense!
But as the 'droid observed her attentively, Teena felt her heart kick into double time. How clever of Zand Robotics to build such an appealing pleasure 'droid. If she had the funds, she wouldn't mind owning one herself.
Who was she kidding? She'd never brought up enough nerve to be intimate with a real person, much less this mechanical hunk that was rumored to be geared to fulfill any being's fantasy.
"Can I assist you, Mistress?"
The 'droid's voice jerked her out of her reverie. "What? Oh, sorry!" Damn, now she was apologizing to the thing. "No, Zand Ten. You must be the last model. I heard they only made 10."
"You are correct, Mistress, I am the last Zand my master made." Zand Ten kept his steady gaze on her.
"Your master?" Teena turned away from the 'droid's unsettling eyes, but couldn't resist muttering, "What I wouldn't give to meet that master."
"You may do so, Mistress."
"What!" Teena swung back around to face Zand Ten again and found him grinning at her with a smugness she never expected from a machine.
"Indeed, Mistress, since you were clever enough to repair me, my master has programmed an invitation for you to be brought to Zand headquarters and make his acquaintance. If that is your desire?" Having a gorgeous man, albeit even only an android, ask her if something was her desire, brought thoughts of the risqu? kind quickly to mind. Especially a naked android, which was probably why she was becoming so agitated in his presence.
Although she still hadn't answered his question, something in her eyes must have triggered his pleasure 'droid senses, because he moved closer to her and slid his arms around her.
"Zand Ten, what are you doing!" she demanded, and although she was tempted to melt into his arms, the thought that he was a 'droid couldn't be dispersed.
"What is your desire, Mistress? I've been built to fulfill any fantasy you might wish."
Teena pressed her hands against his steel hard chest; she was tempted to knead the synthetic material that would deceive anyone into believing he was a flesh and blood person.
"Sorry, stud, not enough privacy," she used as an excuse, as if she might offend his nonexistent feelings.
Zand Ten looked around at the other inactivated androids all waiting for her attention. "Is there another place we might go for an interlude, Mistress?"
"Steady, buddy, I've got a lot of work to do and you have an owner waiting impatiently for your return."
The 'droid gave her a sexy smile as if he knew his own worth. Had this machine been programmed to have human emotions somehow? It would be a first. For years the foremost experts in the field had been attempting to do just that. Could Zand Robotics have succeeded, where everyone else had failed? She would be interested to find out. Maybe she would take up the proffered offer and hopefully meet the person responsible for the creation of, in Teena's mind, the perfect male.
Equal Opportunity Seduction (Sci Fi short story # 2 in Kazphyrian series in Torrid Teaser Volume 27)
The Kazphyrian government is forcing all able-bodied citizens to find a mate.
As two of the most eligible bachelors on the planet, Bradeon Gosh-Ere, a busy Kaz Casualty physician, and Hankren Tereamin, a hardly-home Kaz Transport pilot, could have their choice of the constant flow of beauties making momentary stops in their lives. But they want more. The males want a special female mate who will accept them both and the relationship they share, as lovers.
Drendar Kyntrel’s primary job is working for the Kazphyrian Department of Citizen Safety, which controls all the pleasure centers on the planet. Her earnings are meager, so when she is offered a lucrative temporary position to help a time-weary physician and a never-home pilot, she accepts.
Can the males convince the oh-so-suitable Dren, in the most intimate and pleasurable way, to accept them both as her mate for life?
EXCERPT:
Brad gazed at his sister on the transmission unit in frustration. "Why did you do that, Aimee?" He looked upward as if searching for divine intervention to give him strength, before looking back at her image on the trans unit.
He watched in vexation as she shrugged her delicate shoulders. "Well, it's your fault. Since I couldn't tell her you two are looking for a mate, I had to give her some reason you two needed her personal services. Look, I've met the girl. She seems lovely. She's even agreed to take a couple of weeks off from her job, since she's owed vacation, to devote to the two of you. I have to tell you, I had to do some fast-talking, when I mentioned two of you. If you like her, you both need to do some heavy charming to get her to accept both. But initially, you need to let her think you guys are both so busy that you don't have the time to visit pleasure centers?"
"Stop, right there, we don't need to visit the pleasure centers. Exactly what did you tell her?" Brad wanted to wring his little sister's neck.
"I may have hinted that you're a medical nerd with no time to spare for females and Hank's a hard up fly-boy who's always gone with no time to spare for females." At the end of her dissertation, she was flushed, as if expecting Brad to blow a vent valve.
"Jardem, female!" Brad muttered.
"Well, what else could I say!" Aimee cried. "I couldn't tell her the truth! She would have probably bolted!"
Brad just glared at her over the trans unit. Now he would have to pretend he was a nerd physician, at least until he let the female believe she was 'helping' him come out of his shell. And Hank! This wouldn't make him very happy. Just one look at Hank's handsome face and form and the female would be hard-pressed to imagine him as hard up.
"You're right, this is my fault. I should have taken care of this myself. Maybe you should call her to cancel."
"No!" Aimee surprised him with her vehemence.
"Why?" Brad wanted to know.
"I've already signed an agreement for the two weeks. She wouldn't just take off work on the off chance that she was getting this very lucrative job. So you guys have to do the two weeks. If she doesn't work out, you can give her her walking papers at the end."
"Urrrrrr," Brad almost growled in frustration. "Fine, I'll talk to Hank. More than likely he'll be called away soon and that will just leave me to contend with her."
Aimee snickered at him. "I think you better reserve judgment until you meet her."
"What do you?"
"You'll see. Her two weeks starts when darkness falls tomorrow. Have fun, big brother." And before Brad could say another word, Aimee clicked off.
Jardem save him from his meddling little sister.
The Commander's Mate (Sci Fi short story #3 in Kazphyrian series in Torrid Teaser Volume 27)
Aimee Syncire is in a desperate situation. Her friends and mate are dead and she is a prisoner in the forbidden Kazphyrian country of Velorn. Aimee doesn’t know how she came to be in the restricted country or how to convince Velorn’s Legion Commander, JarrRon Ry Vere, of her innocence.
JarrRon’s foreign prisoner draws him from the moment he sets eyes on her. Aimee’s determination and will to survive captivates Jarr. When circumstances force JarrRon to release Aimee, he must find a way to bring her back and convince her to accept him as her true barbarian mate.
EXCERPT:
After she'd cried herself to exhaustion, Aimee lay like a limp cloth, staring up at the ceiling of the massive room. Would she be in trouble for coming into Velorn without permission? Rumors had it that if you snuck into the country, you would be imprisoned.
Surely they could make an exception, couldn't they? Upon hearing a door open, Aimee's burning gaze flew to the other side of the room. The first female who'd spoken to her was coming toward the bed, stopping to light the chandels on her way.
"How nice to see you awake again. Feeling better?" the female asked as she reached Aimee's bed.
Aimee nodded mutely, watching the female with guarded eyes. "How did I get here?" Aimee attempted, the sounds coming out in a gravelly croak.
"Here drink this," she insisted, holding the container she retrieved from the bedside table for Aimee to drink.
Without protesting, Aimee did as the female bid. And after feeling the soothing liquid warm her throat, was grateful she had.
"By the way, my name is Sareen and this is my brother's household. My mate, Drandol, and I are visiting."
Silently, Aimee took in the female's clothing. A vest, similar to the droten vest worn by Kantrerian females, graced the upper part of her body, with a small exception; her vest was made of hand made fabric, which was light and fluttered freely as she moved, giving peeking glimpses of her breasts. Her ankle-length skirt made from a fabric resembling the Kantrerian kathtans also fluttered freely around her legs, leaving her midriff bare, making her appear extremely feminine.
The female's words finally filtered into her still muddled mind. "Your brother?"
Sareen nodded. "Yes, my brother, JarrRon Ry Vere. He is Velorn's legion commander, second only to Velorn's governor, TarnRig Ossur. My mate is his second-in-command."
Aimee's heart fluttered in her chest as she realized she was in the household of a military commander. It could only mean one thing.
"Count yourself lucky someone found you. Hashmin said you were almost dead. Where are you from?"
"I'm from Kantrer. My mate, Sam and I, and our friends were staying at an excursion lodge in Sanforthe. We were on a picnic overlooking Velorn, when a large creature jumped into our midst and began kil. . ." Aimee's choked voice trailed off.
"Oh stars, I'm sorry," Sareen exclaimed and sat next to Aimee, grabbing her hand, as if trying to comfort her. "I don't understand. Hashmin said he found you in Velorn. I'll have to talk to my brother about this."
"Am I a prisoner?" Aimee whispered.
Sareen frowned. "I'm afraid so. We have strict rules governing the admittance of visitors. It is the only way we can keep outside influences from corrupting our life here. I know other countries think of us as barbarians, but our people are determined to keep our old ways and our land as it is."
"Isn't there anything I can say that would obtain my release?"
"I'm afraid it will be your word against a Velornian citizen's word. My brother will be hard to convince. My mate might be able to get you heard. There is one more thing I must warn you. . ."
WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES (Book 3 in the CAJUN EROTICA series):
Tormented by inner demons, Lucas Horville swears off women & buries himself in his work. When his brother hires a detail artist to take some of the burden from his shoulders, Luke is ready to show her the door.
Jessie Sandoval is a woman with a past--one she's running from. Hoping to turn her life around, Jessie moves to a new town (Lafayette) and a new job. From the first, she senses the demons plaguing her new boss. Can the submissive Jessie convince Luke to embrace his dominant tendencies and free himself from his torment?
But Jessie has an obsessive ex-Dom who would rather see her dead than out of his control. When Luke's family is drawn into her ex-Dom's line of fire, Jessie realizes he won't stop until he has what he wants--her. When Jessie is kidnapped, Luke must find her because he knows the man will stop at nothing to get her back--even murder.
EXCERPT for WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES:
Luke could feel the girl’s gaze as if it literally touched his back. To say the girl shocked him was an understatement. He knew from her resume she was twenty-two years old. But with her jeans riding low on her slender hips, her crop top that left her midriff bare, and her worn tennis shoes, she looked no older than sixteen. She sported a pierced navel, with the hint of a tattoo on her belly that showed above the band of her hip huggers.
Christ Almighty! When he’d spotted her hard nipples, Luke had to stop himself from shooting across the desk toward her. He should have fired her as he’d intended. He had gone off the idea of riding her until she quit, but things could get complicated if he kept her on. In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined the gut wrenching reaction he’d had to the girl. Besides being angry about the detailing, now he would have to fight these feelings of intense sexual attraction. There was nothing else to do; he’d have to set limits on the girl’s job, so he could still have access to his relief valve.
“Gramps?” Luke shouted and nudged one of the feet sticking out from under a Ford Fairlane they were rebuilding. The old man slid out on his creeper, to look up at Luke and the girl by his side.
“Oui? Ah…this must be our new detail lady,” the elderly black man announced as he squinted his old eyes to get a better look. Willy Darborne, Gramps as everyone called him, had been working with the Horville’s since Herbert Horville had started the business many years before. (Horville's Paint & Body Shop)
“Gramps, this is Jessica Sandoval,” Luke introduced her.
“Comment ça va, Jessica.” The old man grabbed a shop towel out of his overall pocket to wipe his hand before he reached up to shake her hand.
“Please call me, Jessie. And I’m doing fine,” Jessie returned, bending over to shake the old man’s hand without hesitation.
Good, the girl could understand French. Having their shops in the heart of Cajun country, all his workers needed to have at least an understanding of the language. Luke’s thoughts halted as he watched the curve of her back above the level of her jeans. Crap! He felt the uncomfortable tightening of his jeans as his member stirred.
Luke saw some of his other employees gathering around. He also saw what had caught their attention. This might signal trouble. Most of the men gathering around were single. When he coughed to get their attention, Jessie jerked upright, as if she thought she’d done something wrong.
A Torrid Celebration!
5th Anniversary Anthology from publisher Whiskey Creek Press/Torrid
The Twelfth Knight by Cheri Valmont
Blurb:
Willamina de Coucey, in disguise and on the run, finds herself falling in love with the mysterious troubadour, Adonis. But during a Twelfth Night celebration, Minna uncovers secrets which threaten to tear them apart.
Excerpt:
Minna’s heart pounded in her ears. Not even the cacophony of noise from the Twelfth Night revelers filling Renwar’s great hall could drown out the sound.
How could this be happening to her?
After the surveyor of ceremonies made the last announcement, cheers had erupted from the trestle tables.
She thanked God her turn at entertaining had already passed. Had that not been the case, she would certainly have balked.
“Pray, raise your goblets in a toast,” the surveyor’s voice boomed. “To the betrothal of our own Lady Elysonde to the venerable and honored Lord Roget Fitz Hugh, new Earl of Aberle.”
While all the guests did the surveyor’s bidding, Minna stood stunned next to the raised area at the back of the hall, which was set aside for the musicians.
How could fate be so cruel as to have thrown her once again into the presence of Roget Fitz Hugh? The knowledge that she was here entertaining for his betrothal sent a shiver of revulsion streaking through her body. Thanks to the masks everyone wore, she knew she could not have recognized him. Nor him her. Thank God in His heaven for that small recompense.
Two people rose to the uproarious applause of the guests. Bile rose in her throat, her gaze riveted to the man dressed in the guise of the good knight, Saint George. Had Roget decided to take part in the festivities by joining the mummers for the fight between the good knight and the evil knight? Who was to take the part of the evil knight?
After the applause hushed and the betrothed couple regained their seats, the surveyor called out again. “To celebrate our dear lady’s betrothal, we have a very special offering. Before her betrothed, who, as a lark, has graciously agreed to engage in mock combat at the end of our evening, we will first hear the trouvère, who has agreed to be the evil knight. He has written a chanson de fin’ amors dedicated to Lord Aberle and our lady.”
The guests surged, clapping and obviously excited at the thought of this spectacle.
Minna’s heart leapt when she turned to watch Garret, dressed as a black knight, sans helmet, make his way between the trestle tables toward the dais. Obviously, Lord Graven had allowed one of his own knights to supply Garret with everything needed for this performance. Minna knew Garret carried no such things around with the troop. He also had a partial mask covering his face, as did most of the guests.
Despite being dressed as a black knight, he made an impressive sight. He wore a black surcoat and mantle. His movements had all the confidence and assurance with which a true knight would hold himself.
His chain mail coif hid his blond hair.
A feeling of unease settled in Minna’s belly. She had the strongest suspicion something was not right. Or perhaps it was just her personal experience of Roget Fitz Hugh’s character causing her to feel this way.
HURRICANE WINDS, Cajun Erotica Book 4 What’s an outwardly fearless, inwardly insecure girl to do when her first foray into romantic love is met with heartbreak and betrayal? Does she hide her feelings behind a prim façade? When Tanner Sandoval storms into Carrie Horville’s life, her long-denied ‘sixth sense’ goes wild. Carrie’s ‘feelings’ always precede changes in her life. So the unwelcome intrusion of this stranger to Carrie can only signal bad changes, because these two are fighting. For control? Or are they really fighting the spine-tingling sexual attraction they feel each time they come near each other? Despite Carrie’s resistance, on the evening of her brother’s wedding, she makes an impulsive decision. Carrie offers Tanner an erotic alternative to a romantic relationship. No talk of love, no commitments, just sex. Can Tanner convince Carrie to fight her fears and trust him to be the man of her dreams? Or will her fears ruin their tenuous relationship beyond repair?
Blurb:
EXCERPT for HW:
Set up: Carrie & Tanner are taking part in Luke and Jessie's traditional Cajun wedding dance. They are doing their best to keep their normally volatile relationship in check to prevent making a scene in front of family and friends.
“Can you believe they fell so quickly?” Tanner asked next to her.
“No. I never thought Luke would fall that fast. Like a bolt of lightning hit him.”
“I’ve heard it can happen that way sometimes,” Tanner mentioned in observation, as the two of them watched the slowly moving couple on the dance floor. “How about you? Have you ever been in love, Carrie?”
Carrie was so surprised at the intimacy of his question; she didn’t know what to say. Since when had her love life become of interest to him? Most times, they were so at odds with each other they could barely be civil.
“Not seriously,” she admitted, but turned her face away from the probing green gaze that went so well with his honey blond hair and tanned skin. Tanner was as tall as most of her brothers, which even made the five feet eleven inch Carrie have to look up to gaze into those disturbingly attractive eyes. Damn him!
“Not seriously? What exactly does that mean?” Obviously, she’d peaked his interest. That was the last thing she’d wanted to do!
Quickly, Carrie scanned the dance floor, looking for a means of escape. Had Luke had an unmarried older brother, said brother would have dancing with a broom to look forward to during the next song, thus pronouncing his unmarried state, and usually coming up with antics to set the wedding guests howling with laughter.
Finally, the money dance began. The married couple’s family and friends pinned money on the bride’s veil and the groom’s tux. Before she was forced to answer Tanner’s question, Carrie rushed toward Luke, as if he were her lifeline.
“Me, please,” Carrie waved her hand at Luke as she skidded to a halt on the cornmeal- sprinkled floor, done to make it easier for the couples to slide in the turns and spins of the French jitterbug dances.
Luke’s eyes were knowing as he grinned at her, then looked behind her to where she’d left Tanner standing on the edge of the dance floor. She knew Luke would have something to say about her running from Tanner. Carrie grimaced, but moved forward as her cousin, Berty, stepped aside with a laugh to let her have the first few minutes of the dance. It was a short respite, but long enough for her to regain her composure, before she had to face Tanner and his probing questions again.
Carefully, she pinned the bills she’d been holding since the march to her brother’s lapel, as she felt him gazing down at her. “Running, little sister?” he asked.
Carrie gave a rude snort. “Ha! That’ll be the day when I run from the likes of Tanner Sandoval!” She did keep her voice down, though.
Luke opened his arms and Carrie moved into them. “You know I love ya, don’t ya, sis?”
Of course, she knew he loved her. Though it did surprise her that he’d given into the infrequent urge to tell her so. Sometimes she blamed herself. She’d never been an emotional girl. But she knew her brothers were aware of how much she cared for them, just by how protective she was of the lot of them. That had always been her way of showing affection.
Swallowing, Carrie moved to the music while held safely in her brother’s arms. “Of course, Luke. And...eh...I love you, too.”
She felt the gentle rub of one of his large hands on her back. He must have realized how hard it was for her to express her feelings. “Are we going to have to move Tanner?”
Carrie stumbled. Her feet would have slid right out from under her if Luke had not held her steady. “What?” Black eyes, so similar in color to her own, gazed back at her.
When she meant to pull away, Luke held her close to prevent her from making a scene. “Well, I had hoped you and he would have come to terms by now. But it’s like you can’t even stand to be in the same room with him.”
Did it really appear as though she couldn’t stand to be near Tanner? It wasn’t for the exact reasons her brother suspected. Yes, he aggravated her, but he also intrigued her. Not that she would admit that to another living soul. Ever. Nor could she admit it to the brothers she adored. She was surprised she could even admit it to herself. Never before had she felt so…well…alive, as she felt in Tanner’s presence. That’s why his disapproval of the way she protected Corey stung so much.
If Tanner had any inkling of feeling for her, he would understand her motivation. Being that he didn’t, told her he really didn’t have feelings for her. Besides, she’d been bitten once by making the mistake of getting involved with someone she worked with, and had vowed never to do it again.
Shaking her head, Carrie told him, “No, Luke, that’s not necessary. I’ll just do my best to keep out of his way.”
“Why? Why do you need to keep out of his way?” Luke moved surprisingly well for a man not keen on dancing. “Tanner is a great guy. I’d have seen through him by now if he wasn’t.”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We just rub each other the wrong way, for some reason.”
She could feel Luke’s head turn toward where she’d last seen Tanner. Luke twirled her, so she could see him, too. Lo and behold, there he was with his adoring fans—the two twittering cashiers from the shop, hanging on his every word.
“Did you just growl?” Luke asked in surprise, looking down into her face.
“What! Of course not!” she insisted in a hushed voice.
“Well, I’ll be damned!”
“You’ll be damned what?” Carrie narrowed her eyes at him.
“All this time, I thought you hated his guts,” Luke stopped moving as cousin Berty moved back in for her turn to dance with him.
Before she could deny his words, he threw her an infuriating and understanding brotherly grin, before turning to accept Berty’s offering and whirling her away for her turn, leaving Carrie stunned and speechless.
What the hell was he talking about?
(The wedding dance is taking place at Te Cher's honky tonk.)
Good luck with the contest!
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