NEW RELEASE Saved by a SEAL (Hot SEALs) Cat Johnson

SAVED BY A SEAL (HOT SEALs) by NY Times Bestseller Cat Johnson
Bad boy Zane Alexander traded his family's wealth for a Navy SEAL trident. Now he needs his father's millions but there is a condition. Zane has to date the Senator's daughter, Missy, and pretend to like it. But when Missy is kidnapped and Zane's team must save her, the danger and his feelings turn very real.


Zane watched as Jon strode across the bar toward him.

“Good. You’re here.” Jon dumped a binder on the table.

The papers inside were heavy enough to make the beer in Zane’s pint slosh when it landed. Zane raised a brow as he picked up his glass. “Whatcha got there, bud?”

“That’s the completed business and marketing plan, all put together.” Jon pulled out a chair and sat. “Rick and Darci looked it over and then both Ali and I proofread it twice, so it should be ready to present to your father.”

Grateful he’d been left out of that incredibly boring stage of this project, Zane eyed the tome. “That’s all? Nothing else?”

Frowning, Jon flipped open the front cover of the binder. “I think so. Brody’s artwork for the logo is in there, along with a complete company branding section. I also cited and included all the materials I used for research to back up the idea. You know, as proof there’s a need for this kind of operation—” Jon glanced up, scowling as his shoulders slumped. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I am.” Amused that Jon had finally figured it out, Zane raised his glass in a toast to his gullible friend. Apparently Jon was a little slow in detecting sarcasm.

Zane took a swallow of the brew that was already getting warm. He’d arrived early for this meeting with his current teammate and soon-to-be business partner.

Truth be told, he’d needed the drink. Zane had faced the enemy with less trepidation than he felt now on the way to see his father. . . and the enemy had been carrying automatic weapons with the intent of killing him.

His father utilized weapons that were more subtle than machine guns and explosives, but no less destructive. Zane should know. He’d been dodging his father’s verbal shots for as long as he could remember.

He still had yet to figure out how his mother, bless her heart, had survived this long married to his father. By keeping her head down and remaining below the radar, most likely, while Zane had a tendency to get right in his father’s face. Or he had until that day he announced he was joining the Navy and walked out with nothing but what fit in his bag.

Thank God for the trust fund his maternal grandfather had set up. Zane’s father could—and had—cut him off from the family’s wealth and support, but even he didn’t have the power to take away the trust fund in his name or the monthly allowance it yielded him.

Not that Zane’s expenses were huge—living in the bachelor barracks when not deployed was cheap—but Zane did like having nice things. Big trucks. Fast cars. Hot women. That all took a good amount of cash. More than he made from his military pay, so the check was surely welcome when it appeared in his account each month.

“Do you want to take a look at what I put together?” Jon looked a little disappointed, almost crestfallen that Zane hadn’t jumped to devour the binder page-by-page.

Even with the kickass winged anchor logo and company name they’d come up with on the front of it, the binder looked too much like the schoolwork he’d always hated.

Though he supposed he would need to review the material before he met with his father later that day, it could wait.

“I will. Later.” Procrastination was one of the many things Zane excelled at.

He took another sip of his beer and ignored the book Jon had nudged toward him. He’d be drinking whisky if he didn’t have to get behind the wheel and leave for his drive to the capital region in an hour or so.

When Jon looked ready to crawl out of his skin, Zane decided to relieve his friend’s pain. “Look, Jon. I know you, and you are incapable of giving less than one hundred percent to anything you do. I trust you that everything I’ll need is in that thing, plus some. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter what’s in your plan. My father is going to give us the money for this company.”

Jon pursed his lips. “I wish I could be so sure.”

“You can be. Trust me. When my father sees I’m willing to leave the Navy for this, he’ll jump on investing as much money as we need.”

GAPS—Guardian Angel Protection Services—was Jon’s brainchild and it was a great idea. A company comprised of a group of men with the best training the Naval Special Warfare Development Group had to offer. As combat-seasoned SEAL operatives, they would be experienced experts-for-hire at a time when precision security was a growing need in so many areas across the globe.

With their friends and former teammates Chris and Rick already out, and with Jon and Zane’s current contracts about to expire, they had a four-man team to staff GAPS out of the gate with the promise of more of their teammates joining them in a few years, if they could make a go of it.

Zane traced the tip of one finger over the letters of their tagline printed on the paper slipped beneath the clear plastic front of the binder.

We cover your six when God’s too busy.

Was he covering his friend’s six now or leading them down a path of fruitless hope?

Nothing was certain when it came to his father. Well, nothing except the fact that the one thing George Zane Alexander the second could never get over was his son joining the Navy against his wishes. And Zane didn’t stop there. He’d taken it one step further by trying out for the SEALs. Then, as soon as he’d proven himself, he went for DEVGRU’s Green Team training and selection—the infamous Seal Team Six the media liked to shout about.

Even if those actually in the elite unit didn’t like or want the fame the media had thrust upon them after the Bin Laden raid, Zane was indeed among the best of the best, in spite of his old man’s wishes. The problem was that once he’d reached the top, there was nowhere left to go to piss off his father.

Zane saw Jon’s vision for GAPS as the right opportunity at the right time.

To be able to take their skills and use them as they saw fit and be their own bosses—it was tempting. A dream come true.

Of course, that was only if Zane got through this meeting with good old George without taking a swing at the man, which is what had happened the last Christmas he’d tried going home to play at being a happy family. You don’t talk bad about the troops or make disparaging remarks about the war to a man who’d watched friends get blown up. Zane clenched his jaw and pocketed the anger.

Get it in eBook and Paperback Now!
Look for Jon's story, Night with a SEAL (Hot SEALs), available now in eBook, Print & Audio 

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Wild Marauders MC Teaser

WARNING, explicit language. This is from Lynch's point of view - unedited excerpt. I should have a release date soon.

I was sitting at a table close to the bar with Lenny, Wizard and Yank, discussing their run the night before, and trying to keep Kat, and her sexy fuckin' curves out of my mind. I should have fucked her instead of walking away, Christ, my cock was still hard, but I'd wanted to show her that she wasn't going to control me by giving me her body. I did things my way, and in my own good time. I might want her like fuck but I was just strong enough, and mean enough, to deny myself.

Yeah, I was a real bastard.

Yank, my treasurer, had just confirmed the payoff we'd received was the full ten grand as promised. I had a strict rule that once the goods were delivered and we were handed the payoff that we got the fuck out of there, not counting the money until we were back at the compound. Never could tell if the cops or feds had been tipped off and were on their way to the area, or already waiting to make the jump on us. Usually when that happened they didn’t make their presence known until the deal was done. Besides, I knew if the money came up short, we would get it one way or another, later.

“Good payoff for a short haul,” Yank said, leaning back in his chair.

“The best kind,” Wizard agreed, reaching for his beer.

“The next run won’t be as close, or as easy.” I downed my beer and held up the empty glass. Almost immediately one of the club's sweet butts, a tired looking brunette with too much makeup on and not enough clothes hurried over with a replacement. I ignored her blatant attempt to catch my interest. “What’s the total in the safe?”

Yank didn’t hesitate. “Forty-seven grand.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Make sure our affiliates in town get their cut, pay the brothers, and give Poker’s widow a couple grand.” I didn’t need to ask Yank what would be left. I knew right down to the last penny, and I trusted Yank with the clubs money.

“Poker was a loyal brother.” A moment of silence followed Lenny’s comment as each remembered the fallen brother in their own way. “To Poker,” he followed up, raising his drink. The rest of us did the same.

A shrill whistle echoed through the bar, followed by several unintelligible remarks that were meant as a compliment for the recipient in a crude biker’s way. I watched Tank’s eyes grow round, Ripper’s jaw drop, his beer paused in mid-air on the way up to his bearded mouth, and Fat Boy slap his beefy hand over his heart, before I turned to see what the fuckin' fuss was about. I released a hiss, my gaze falling on where Kat was standing in the entrance way to the room, no doubt looking for me.

My dick stood to attention, remembering what it felt like being squeezed by her tight cunt. The clothes I’d picked up for her outlined her lush curves, revealing that she was a delicious handful. Most of her shapely legs were bare, as was her midriff and one shoulder where the top had slipped down. I grinned, noticing she’d used the lip gloss I’d provided. It had been a last minute purchase and my cock jerked at the thought of having those full shiny lips close over it. I wondered if she knew how fucking sexy she was. Her gaze finally landed on me and she began to make her way in our direction, ignoring the crude remarks and looks of the other men.

“Where do you want me?” She was looking down at me. Her innocent question drew loud laughs from my surrounding brothers.

Tory Richards

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What Do Lesbians Do In Bed?

Have you ever wondered what lesbians do when they get together? Is it all fingers and scissors and lips between legs, or is there WAY more to the slippery story of lesbian sex?

In this hot new anthology, enjoy twenty-one explicit tales of lesbian love. From shoe fetish to opera gloves, sex in public to quiet winter mornings, from a taste of taboo to strap-on DP to extremes that shan’t be mentioned here to full-on Sapphic bukakke, even connoisseurs of fine girl-on-girl action are likely to discover a new idea or two in this sexy new collection.

Whether you can appreciate this book’s title ironically or you’re authentically curious about what girls who love girls do in bed (or in parked cars or at the office or in a church basement or in a restaurant bathroom), grab a copy today and get in on the nitty-gritty secrets of lesbian sex.

Giselle Renarde’s erotic fiction has appeared in over 100 anthologies, including prestigious collections like Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance, Best Women’s Erotica, Girl Fever, and the Lambda Award-winning collection Wild Girls, Wild Nights.

Excerpt from "What Do Lesbians Do In Bed?":

From The Customer’s Waiting:

I rushed to the back staircase and popped two buttons on my blouse. Nobody else worked in the basement. Just Levy. No one else would see.

In my wedge heels, I had to be careful walking down those slatted metal stairs. It really was scary in the basement. Everything was either concrete or metal, and the only sign of life came from Levy’s blaring headphones. She obviously hadn’t noticed me yet, and I gripped the metal railing, just watching her work.

There was something about dykes who looked like truck drivers that really turned me on. That was Levy’s style—dark blue pants like mechanics wore, and an unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt over a tank top. Her sandy hair was about shoulder-length, but she always wore it back in a ponytail, with a baseball cap that had a bulldog on it.

Just the sight of her made me tremble. I was so wet she could probably fist me in one go if she wanted to.

And that was the kicker: so far, she hadn’t expressed any interest in me. None. At all. Every shift, I dressed a little more femme—brighter lipstick, shorter skirt, higher heels. Anything to grab her attention.

When I finally worked up the courage to call her from the bottom of the stairs, she didn’t hear me. I crept toward her cage until I was close enough to weave my fingers through and shake it.

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Caged. Captured. Confined.: The Illicit Romance Reader’s Dark BDSM Collection

$0.99 Introductory Offer!

Caged. Captured. Confined.: The Illicit Romance Reader’s Dark BDSM Collection
by Alpha Dom, Angel Wild, Giselle Renarde, Lexi Wood

Until September 15th 2014 you can grab a copy of Caged. Captured. Confined.: The Illicit Romance Reader’s Dark BDSM Collection for only $0.99! I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but if you like your BDSM with a heavy helping of kidnapping and uhhhh... that sort of stuff, this might just be the box set for you.
Enjoy three dark BDSM tales from established and up-and-coming erotica authors, plus a bonus story from Lexi Wood!

Ultimate power meets true submission in Giselle Renarde’s caging story “A Jealous God.” The fantasy of capture travels with Angel Wild on a journey that leads straight into the arms of “Dungeon Master.” Lastly, Alpha Dom treats the reader to a BDSM fantasy she won’t soon forget as he sweeps her off to a bondage hut deep in the woods. Still want more? Lexi Wood lightens the mood, turning the capture fantasy on its head in her hilarious bonus story.

You don’t want to miss this box set of dark romance BDSM shorts. It’s the perfect compilation for a surreptitious escape when you’re not supposed to be reading. If you just can’t wait to indulge, don’t worry--your secret is safe with us!

Excerpt (from my contribution, A Jealous God):

Her cage was made of chicken wire, but escape never crossed her mind. If she left, where would she go? Better yet, why would she go? Eve sat each day in patient silence, waiting for Him to appear. She did not sleep while He was away, for fear of missing out on the thrill of His arrival.

The chicken wire cut her flesh if she held the same position for too long, so she tried not to move. Her knees were scarred red with pointed ovals like eyes without irises. Eve was blind to life beyond the chicken wire.

All day, she waited to hear His key enter the front lock. The door would open and then squeal shut, but Creator never entered her room right away. Her room was, of course, a faulty descriptor. It was not her room in any sense—it was merely the room which her cage occupied.

When He entered, she cast her eyes suitably downward. Offering neither greeting nor request, she waited for Him to make His demands.

“Foul beast of the earth.” His voice boomed as He caught sight of her piddle in the corner of her cage. “Go on the newspaper. What do you think it’s there for?” Eve cowered, but made no reply. On days when pain from the chicken wire made her faint, she liked to sit on the newspaper for relief. She couldn’t do that if it was soiled.

“A dog can be housetrained,” He spat. When she made no response, He commanded, “Lie down. Are you no better than a brute? Present yourself to me like a dog.”

Sinking to her hands and knees, Eve backed up against the cage. She raised her posterior high in the air to ensure her two holes would be aligned with the padded opening in the chicken wire. She could never be sure whether He might fuck her pussy or her ass, or her pussy and then her ass. But without any sense of self, Eve had no concept of preference. She existed solely for the enjoyment of her Creator.

Not much more to say but here are some places you can buy it:
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Giselle's Big Box of BDSM

Fifteen erotic tales of discipline, domination, spanking, submission, Alphas, Femdom, bondage and more by award-winning author Giselle Renarde.

Giselle’s erotic fiction has appeared in more than 100 anthologies, including prestigious collections like Best Bondage Erotica, Under Her Thumb, Serving Him and The Big Book of Bondage. In this new box set, you can snap up every story in Giselle’s Best BDSM Erotica series (and then some) at a value price!

What’s in the big box?

Tree Hugger: When the new hotshot lawyer at Navina’s firm invites her out for a hike, he comes equipped with… bungee cords? Only a cute guy like Riley could get away with tying her, naked, to the nearest tree. She’s never been much of a tree hugger, but Riley’s rough hands might change her mind.

An Appreciation for Beautiful Things: Dell's mother-in-law is convinced he's gay, but that doesn't bother him. He's got nothing to prove. Tying up his wife, spanking her, making her scream for mercy--he doesn't do these things to prove that he's straight. He just loves taking charge.

The Invisible Husband: In Greta's opinion, a good husband is like a well-trained dog: you shouldn't see or hear him, except on command. That's not to say she doesn't take good care of her pet. He even gets to sleep in the big bed when he deserves it...

Forgotten Bodies: After three kids and many years of marriage, Susan’s lost her libido. She’s afraid if she doesn't satisfy her handsome husband’s desires he’ll find someone else who will. When Anthony surprises her with a spanking, will Susan find a new route to arousal?

The Sweetest Burn: Lucinda can’t stand to feel viscous fluids dripping down her skin. Too bad! For Chef, a recipe is never complete until it's mixed with the salt, sweat and oils of her skin. Today's sweet sauce is mole poblano, a Mexican chocolate chili that will set her ablaze.

Find these great stories and ten more in Giselle’s Big Box of BDSM!


From An Appreciation for Beautiful Things:

“My mom thinks you’re gay.”

“I know. She’s not exactly shy with the flagrant accusations.” Dell stared into Genevieve’s quixotic green eyes, but he didn’t find what he was looking for. “What are you so worried about?”

She looked helplessly to the night table. “You’re not… are you…?”

“You’re asking if I’m gay?”

She smiled, and then rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I’m an idiot. It’s my mom—she’s poison.”

“No, no—I get it.” Dell wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her hair. “Only a gay man can have an appreciation for beautiful things. And how ridiculous is that? Aren’t straight men supposed to have an appreciation for beautiful women?”

“You’re right.” She chuckled softly. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’ll never be your caveman,” he said in all seriousness. “I love you. I desire you. I would give my life for you. But I’ll never be a belching, beer-swilling brute. That’s not who I am.”

“Thank god.” Her eyes darkened. “I mean, half your appeal is that you’re… the way you are.”

Dell cocked his head. “Gay-ish?”

From The Sweetest Burn:

Wearing only a white apron, Chef entered the room holding a metal pot in one hand and a silicone pastry brush in the other. He ignored her, at first, mixing his creation with the little blue implement and smiling like he could see the future in his sauce.

“What is it?” she asked.

She wasn’t supposed to talk, but oh well. If he didn’t want backtalk, he could eat his food off china like a normal person. But, no. He wanted to taste it on her skin—she knew him too well. The secret ingredient was that combination of her sweat and salt and body oils. Her flesh was a regular bouquet garni of human aromas.

He raised the silicon brush up, allowing a viscous dark brown, almost burgundy, fluid to drip back into the pot. Was it molasses? It did smell sweet, but she thought she got a whiff of chocolate, too, and…chili pepper? Strange combination.

“Mole Poblano,” he said at last.

“I don’t know what that is.”

His gaze was steel. So was his cock, judging by the tent in his apron. “You don’t need to know,” he replied, stirring the dark concoction. “You won’t be eating it.”

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