Romance Excerpts Only Blog

BUCKED

(Studs in Spurs, Book 2)

Cat Johnson

This cowboy is looking for more than just an eight-second ride.

Mustang Jackson does two things well—ride bulls and love women. So the injury that takes him out of the arena leaves him only one way to make a living. Unfortunately, getting paid to be a stud in front of the camera isn’t as fun as private conquests. When he catches sight of little Sage Beckett, minus the glasses, braces and pigtails he remembers, doing time in his hometown suddenly gets a lot more interesting.

Sage had a crush on Michael long before he started using that ridiculous nickname “Mustang”. Though from what she’s overheard about his string of buckle bunnies, the man more than lives up to it. In the past he always looked right through her. Now that he’s home again, she’s determined to capture and tame this wild stallion, no matter what it takes. She intends to satisfy her curiosity and move on, but with every touch she’s less sure she’ll ever purge him from her system.

Once corralled in her arms, Mustang finds himself thinking that domestication may not be so bad after all. Except, once she finds out about his side job, she may not stick for the next go-round.

Warning: Contains one well-hung cowboy riding much more than just bulls, some ménage action in

front of and behind the camera, some whips and chains and some red-hot cowboy loving.

Enjoy the following PG 17 excerpt for Bucked

Rosemary used to sneak boys into her room after their grandmother had gone to sleep all the time. Sage tried to remember that as she felt guilty about plotting on how best to seduce Mustang under her grandmother’s roof.

She remembered the purpose of his visit and turned on her own TV, grabbing the remote control off the top and carrying it back to the bed. She perched on the other side of the bed, but since it was a twin-size they were still pretty close. For the first time in recent years she was happy the mattress was so narrow. Finding the right channel, she turned the volume up just enough that they could hear it and set the remote on the bed table. “It looks like it just started.”

“Yup.”

He was in a strange mood. “You look tired.”

“A little.” Mustang shrugged. “Long day.”

Sage jumped on the chance. “Yeah? What did you do?”

“Work.”

Hmm. A one-word answer. It must have been a really bad day. Sage groaned in commiseration. “You have a bad drive with your dad?”

“No. Different work.” His short answers told her he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Oh. Okay.” Sage folded her hands in her lap and pretended to care about what was happening on screen.

She heard Mustang sigh and then his arm was around her shoulder. Luckily, he’d sat on the side that put the good arm, the one not in the sling, next to her.

Sage glanced sideways at Mustang and he answered her unspoken question. “I think I could use a hug.”

Mustang Jackson, the mighty bull rider, asking for a hug. Even in the old days when his father had taken a switch to him for something he’d done, or possibly hadn’t done, he’d never asked anyone for a hug. Not Rosemary or Grams or her. Something was definitely up. Her gaze met his. “Lucky for you, I’m good at giving hugs.”

Still looking sad, he managed a crooked, half-smile. “I know.”

As she leaned into his arm, he tipped his head down, brushing her forehead with his lips. Tilting her head up, she touched her lips to his chin, then kissed her way to the corner of his mouth. Mustang hesitated but it didn’t take any more coaxing before his lips met hers full-on.

In mid-kiss, he pulled away. “Your grandmother.”

“She’s settled in front of her programs. We won’t see her for the rest of the night.”

He drew in a deep breath and then he was kissing her again. This time deeper and with more energy. He didn’t seem tired anymore. Mustang only stopped kissing her long enough to slip the sling off his neck.

His hand came up to cup her breast. He ran a thumb over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She felt it harden under his touch.

She groaned then broke away. “Is your arm okay?”

“Arm? What arm?” He lowered his head to trail kisses along her neck.

He pushed the top of her dress down with her bra and took her nipple between his lips, torturing her with his teeth and tongue.

Eyes closed, Sage leaned back against the pillows, memorizing every sensation that shot through her. His mouth sent electrical current straight through every part of her body. She wanted more. Sage guided her hand on a path up Mustang’s thigh toward the long, hard bulge straining the zipper.

She’d tasted him, felt what it was like to have the length of him in her mouth. She wanted it elsewhere. She stroked him through his jeans and he moaned, letting her breast pop out of his mouth.

“We’re not going any further than this.” The warning sounded stern and definite, until she stroked him again, harder. He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. “You are going to be the death of me, woman.”

“Mmm, but it will be a fun way to go.” Smiling, Sage took advantage of his weakening defenses. She felt for the tab of his zipper until his hand clamped down over hers.

“You are a determined little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled.

It was nice to hear him laugh, even if he wasn’t letting her have her way. Maybe the subtle approach didn’t work on Mustang. Steeling her nerves, Sage gathered her courage. “I want you.”

“I want you too, Sage, but we can’t always have what we want.”

She tried to move her hand to touch him again, but he held her firmly. “Why won’t you make love to me?”

He laughed. “Besides the fact your grandmother is in the next room?”

Sage felt the pout form on her lips. “But even at the lake you wouldn’t.”

Mustang drew in a deep breath. “I told you. I’m no good for you.”

“I don’t care.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I know you don’t and I’m a bad enough man to take advantage of that.”

Read an alternate excerpt or download eBook at My Bookstore and More

Paperback coming December 2010

It's hard to believe it's been five years since I received my first contract with Whiskey Creek Press, for "Cupid's Arrow". Hard to grasp that in the last five years I've had 8 books published. And 2010 is looking good, too. With a goal of one book a year, so far I have two coming out. A re-release of "All the Right Moves", this time in print. And my first short erotic romance, "Talk Dirty to Me". This one makes me blush!

"Cupid's Arrow" was just the beginning and launched my career, giving me the confidence I needed to pursue my dreams. I'll never forget how I felt, reading that email from Debi Womack for the first time, offering me a contract. I'd just returned home from a two-week cruise to Alaska and it was the first thing I saw in my inbox. I was on top of the world!

Since then I've written spicy, spicy suspense, torrid suspense, torrid and now erotic romance. But that sweet romance will always be one of my favorites. It made me a best seller, as it was on the publisher's best sellers list for two consecutive months!


Readers' Choice #1 Bestseller

Mike has his hands full between working as a police detective and raising a teenage daughter by himself. The last thing he's looking for is a relationship to complicate his life, much less love. However, he finds himself immediately smitten with Emma Stuart after a mistake lands him at her door. Soon it seems he's bumping into her everywhere he goes. He convinces himself he's not interested, only problem is, why can't he ignore the heat between them every time they meet?

Emma's content with her quiet life the way it is. Two years after her divorce she's looking forward to settling into her new condo by the lake. However, her matchmaking sister has other plans. Before she knows it she's running into Stratton's sexy small town detective at every turn. Mike quickly lays down the law, his law that he's not going to get involved with her. Well, if that's the case, why can't keep his hands off her?

Debbie Wallace AKA Tory Richards

Romance with an Attitude Blog
Debbie Wallace
Whiskey Creek Press
Tory Richards

Seducing Stephen by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon is available at Loose Id today. Check out this sexy historical which takes the trope of the jaded rake and the virginal miss in an entirely new direction.
Stephen is visiting the home of a friend during holiday from university when his bed is invaded by a late arriving, drunken houseguest stumbling into the wrong bedroom. From this dubious beginning, a romance slowly develops.

At first Lord Peter Northrup is only interested in the young man as a lusty diversion. He tutors him in the ways of most homosexual liaisons of the time—brief, light, and always temporary. But after he leaves, breaking young Stephen’s heart, he can’t forget him.

Both men grow during their time apart and when they meet again, their affair flames hotter than ever. Is there any possibility for a real relationship between a peer of the realm and a middle-class young man with heavy responsibilities on his shoulders? Will Peter accept the possibility of true love in his shallow life, and will Stephen risk everything and trust a man who’s already hurt him once?


excerpt

Summer 1856
“Gads, there’s a boy in my bed. It’s Christmas come early.”

The laconic drawl jerked Stephen from a deep sleep, snapped him awake and set him bolting upright, blinking in the candlelight at the dark devil who stood over him. He gasped for breath and sputtered for an answer, but words failed him, as they so often did. “Who?” “Why?” and “What?” all stuck to his tongue, and only an anguished, stammering “w-w-w-w” came from his throat.

The man shed his midnight jacket and began to unbutton his gleaming white shirt. His shoulders broad, his back ramrod straight, his dark hair falling in loose curls around harsh, shadowed features -- he was Stephen’s every nighttime fantasy made flesh, the fascinating, frightening creature of erotically charged dreams, the man who would touch him in ways he’d only furtively touched himself up to now.

“Shove over then, and make room for an old man on the warm side of the bed.” The devil’s quiet chuckle was like fingernails scraping Stephen’s spine. “Well, perhaps not old. I prefer to think of myself as seasoned, like a good piece of meat.”

“W-who…?” Stephen finally managed to blurt. He was deeply aware of the man’s gaze lingering on his bare chest, so he pulled his gaping nightshirt closed.

“Lord Northrup, Earl of Stafford, but you may call me Peter since it appears we’re going to be such intimate companions as to share sleeping quarters.” He pulled the shirt off his shoulders, and the candlelight made his skin glow golden. Shadows delineated the muscles of his biceps and chest. A darker shadow of hair furred his pectorals and his flat belly.

“I’m not one to raise a fuss in the middle of the night, when it’s my fault for arriving so late to the party. So, my lad, I’m willing to share if you are.”

Stephen could no longer manage so much as a vowel. He was struck speechless by the outspoken earl who made suggestive comments without a thought for how they might be construed by a stranger. The man was stripping off his boots and breeches now. What kind of an earl traveled without a valet to help him with his attire?

When the stranger tossed back the covers and started to climb into the tall bed, Stephen scooted over as fast as a fox chased by hounds. The man wore no nightshirt. He was barely clothed in drawers, the drawstring of which was tied loosely so they hung halfway down his hips. Before Northrup pulled the covers over himself, Stephen beheld the shallow indentations below each hipbone and the shape of his erect cock beneath the undergarment.

“Sir, I could go elsewhere,” Stephen finally said with a gasp. “It’s no b-bother at all for me to move to another room.”

One dark brow rose high as Northrup settled back against the pillow, an arm behind his head. The position lifted his chest, and Stephen’s gaze was drawn to the hard nubs of his brown nipples. “Come now. No need to keep pretending. I know Euphemia Pratt and her pranks. This is the room she always gives me. If she placed you in my bed, it’s for a good reason. One I think we’ll both enjoy.”

Beneath the covers, Stephen pinched his forearm, checking to see if he was perhaps still asleep. This was the stuff of dreams, waking up to the impossible fact of a handsome man making sexual suggestions -- and reaching for him under the covers.

The young man flinched when a warm, heavy hand settled on his thigh, burning through the light cotton of his nightshirt, but his cock swelled, thrilled at the touch. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. He smelled the fresh scent of night air and a whiff of whiskey on his late night visitor.

“Will you deny Mrs. Pratt told you to expect me?”

Here it was -- the moment for him to explain this was a huge misunderstanding, a double booking of one of the bedrooms. He was a friend of Brian Pratt, come to visit over the holidays. All he had to do was protest and climb out from under the bedcovers. But Stephen felt paralyzed by the hand on his thigh, sliding nearer his groin. He held utterly still, kept his denial to himself, and held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

The demon gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re a very pretty one, with your tawny, tousled hair and that pouting lower lip. However, I’d like to see more of you. Why don’t you take off that rather unattractive nightshirt and show me.”

Another hard swallow, and Stephen moved to obey. It was as if Northrup was a hypnotizing cobra and he a quivering rodent eager to be eaten up. With shaking fingers, he gathered the soft cotton of his nightshirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it onto the floor. He tried to convince himself he had no choice, that he had to obey the earl’s commanding tone, but deep inside he knew the truth. This was something he’d craved for a very long time -- for someone to take control and “force” him to give in to his natural inclinations.

“My God,” the earl muttered, his gaze raking Stephen’s body and setting his flesh afire. He reached out a hand and rested the palm against the younger man’s chest, then slid it down from chest to groin.

Stephen’s stomach muscles trembled and his cock hardened further. Northrup focused his gleaming eyes on the erect shaft. “No drawers beneath your sleeping attire? Now tell me you weren’t expecting me, my lad.”

A grin transformed the man’s severe features into the face of a fallen angel -- once holy, now dark and dangerous. “Don’t look so frightened. I’m not going to hurt you.” His hand curved around Stephen’s cock and gripped it, squeezing lightly. “Much. What’s your name?”

“S-stephen.”

“Pleased to meet you, Stephen. Now we’ve introduced ourselves, why don’t you come here and get to know me better?” The earl’s hand snaked around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

Heart nearly choking him, Stephen leaned over the other man’s reclining body, naked chest to chest. His lips touched another man’s for the first time in his life. Warm, moist, moving, Northrup’s mouth was a living thing, and the touch of it thrilled him. Their breath mingled. Stephen tasted the sharp, oaken flavor of whiskey. Was the earl drunk? Would he be angry when he realized what he’d done while in his cups?

But from his words and actions, it seemed Lord Northrup was accustomed to having men in his bed. He wouldn’t have later regrets such as Stephen might have. No regrets now, however. Stephen pushed guilt and doubt from his mind, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips more firmly against the soft mouth.