Most women kidnapped on the eve of their wedding would be devastated, but not Sophie. It keeps her from marrying a man she doesn't love. Besides, her kidnapper is a sexy hunk whose caresses keep her a willing captive. Lust turns to love, but time is running out. Sophie's ruthless fiance is hot on their trail with revenge and murder on his mind! Will she and Brent have a chance at happiness, or will Sophie be forced to keep a promise made through blackmail?


How in the world did he expect her to sleep with him lying next to her all night? She already felt the heat from their close proximity, reaching up to undo some of the top buttons of her shirt. She fluffed the material against her hot skin, thanking God for the cool air of the fan overhead.

In the end it wasn’t enough. As Brent settled into an exhausted sleep, Sophie lay there burning up, listening to his soft snores and undoing yet another button, and another. She tried to inch away from his hot flesh but their handcuffed wrists prevented her from getting very far. She couldn’t even roll onto her side, which was how she usually liked to sleep. She stilled for a second before fluffing her shirt again. What had she ever done to deserve this kind of torture? God, it was like a furnace…

“Will you be still!” Brent grumbled.

“I’m hot!” She whispered, defending herself.

“Well if you’d stopped wiggling you’d cool down. I’m hot too.”

This was impossible, Sophie thought, squirming to get into a more comfortable position. She was frightened but more than that, she was aware of his closeness. He had no right, forcing her to sleep with him! He released a snort as she continued to twist and turn.

Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against his muscular thigh. She tried to pretend it didn’t happen but that was like trying to pretend she wasn’t a woman. Besides, now her fingertips were singed and worse, tingling.

“Damn it!” Brent barked losing control.

“I’m use to sleeping on my side,” she said in her defense.

With a deep sigh that sounded more like a grumble of aggravation Brent rolled to his side, turning her with him so that when they were finally settled she was in the scooped out hollow provided by his body, with his arm around her. She gasped at his audacity, trying to scoot away but he yanked her back just as easily.

“Now go to sleep!” he snarled against her ear.

Sophie grew stiff as a board, holding her breath, speechless with shock. The intimacy of their position terrified her. Their bare legs were touching from thigh to ankle. In addition, she could definitely feel the soft bulge of Brent’s member flush against her buttocks.

Oh dear Lord this was worse than anything she could have imagined! Everything at that moment became intensified. The warmth of his breath against her ear, stirring her hair. The rhythm of his heart as it beat against her back. His large hand resting against her belly, she could feel every one of his fingers.

Not until his soft, steady breathing indicated he’d fallen back to sleep was she able to finally relax. She could forget about cooling down now, she was hotter than ever, but at least she was on her side. Finally, after an agonizing hour of waiting for the unknown, her eyes began to drift shut and she sank into a welcome slumber.

***Everyone. I hope you are having a great holiday season:)

I also wanted to let you know I just received a brand new review for "THE SENATOR'S DAUGHTER" by Romance Junkies, who gave it a 4.5 blue ribbon rating!
You can read it here: Romance Junkies


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Enter, if you dare, the City of the Damned...

...with Marie Treanor's post-apocalyptic trilogy: Loving the Wolf, Loving the Vampire and Loving the Man, now available together as a collection for the first time.

Out now at Changeling Press

In the depths of nuclear winter a self-sufficient cop leaves the safety of her Dome City and travels north in search of her missing brother. In the City of the Damned, where radiation poisoning has created new mutant species, April sets off a chain of events and deceptions destined to change the life of all the city’s inhabitants.

For Max, who has felt little but blood thirst for many years, the blinding sexual pleasure he experiences with April becomes an obsession. When wolf and vampire collide, one will be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice, for the survival of their world.

Like wolves, the lupi mate for life. As for vampires… they mate for something more…

You can read further excerpts on my website, but for now, here's a taster from Part 1, Loving the Wolf.

Lara knew he was watching her.

She couldn’t see him, and she refused to turn and look, but still she knew. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck stood up. Her scalp tingled, and all her senses sprang to full alert. All except hearing, which was still being battered into submission by the raucous music shaking the whole building. She’d been wary enough entering this weird club in the first place, but she had been a cop back at the Dome long enough to trust her instincts, which positively shrieked at her now to take great, great care.

Poised for any action necessary, she forced her foot to continue tapping out the music’s relentless beat. She began a wide sweep with her eyes, taking in the heaving mass of gyrating bodies directly in front of her. Beyond them, on a raised and precariously vibrating stage, was the band -- a very small collection of wild and unkempt individuals to be responsible for such a huge noise.

Lara’s eyes lifted to the high rafters under the crumbling roof, from which hung large braziers that scattered leaping flame lights and shadows across the walls and the faces below. Halfway up to the ceiling, a platform ran the whole way around the hall, making a mezzanine floor round which several people prowled. Some leaned there against a very temporary-looking grill in order to gaze greedily down at the sweating dancers, as if searching for prey -- which they probably were. Of one kind or another.

But the eyes observing her weren’t up there. They were -- directly behind her.

Spinning on her heel, her fist clenched and ready, she caught a flash of silver light, the tiniest, blurred glimpse of a swiftly moving figure, before another man blocked her view by standing mere inches in front of her.

“Hey, looking for someone?” the obstruction asked, grinning. He shouted expertly over the din of the music, without appearing to use excessive effort. He was big, chunky, mostly muscle. Yet his smile reminded Lara of a snake.

“Actually, yes,” she murmured, peering past him.

There he is. A tall young man with long hair that glinted peculiarly silver in the club’s weird light. There’s my man. He made no effort to hide himself now, which made her wonder if he ever had. His face looked pale in the strange, flickering light, with heavily hooded eyes and deeply shadowed hollows beneath rather delicate cheekbones. He wore a light-colored leather jacket, maybe grey, and jeans that stretched tight across his thighs and hips. He looked lean and dangerously hungry. With his shoulder against a concrete pillar, he gazed directly at her.

He was certainly worth gazing back at. The words lithe, predatory and raw crossed Lara’s mind. So did beautiful, but she managed to squash that one before it fully surfaced.

“Anyone in particular?” enquired the chunky snake annoyingly. A group of young people wandered past, blocking Lara’s view, and reluctantly she shifted her attention back to her interlocutor.

“Very particular,” she returned. She thought he was staff. Some kind of bouncer. Either way, he gave off the air of knowing.

He smiled again. “Perhaps I can introduce you. I know several very nice -- and not so nice -- men who want to meet you.”

“They’re not my kind,” Lara said impatiently. The snake, clearly, was the club pimp. In the Dome, she’d already have arrested him. Here she just looked beyond him once more, but the man with silver hair had gone. A pang of disappointment twisted through her stomach. Oh well, interest stirred and interest died. It wasn’t as if she was prepared to pursue it anyway. But hell, it had been nice to look.

“Wow!” said the snake. “Swift decision-making, I like that! Well then, what is your kind?
Whatever it is, I can help. A young boy? An older woman? A vampire to suck your blood? Or a willing man who’ll let you suck his? A werewolf to…”

“A werewolf?” Lara interrupted, staring at him. “For God’s sake, what sort of perverts do you encourage here?”

“All sorts,” the snake replied frankly. “Werewolves are particularly popular. They can fuck all night. And, baby, I mean all night. So if you change your mind, just let me know.”

A little shiver ran down Lara’s spine. His coarse words struck an unexpected chord in her, an ache of secret loneliness and frustration, a sudden rush of lust not dissociated from the silver-haired young man. Now him she probably wouldn’t mind in the least fucking her all night. But some arsehole who thought he was a werewolf? Or, even worse, some other arsehole who imagined women wanted him to be a werewolf! Dear God, she’d rather cross her legs and take a vow of celibacy...

"This series certainly has this reviewer captivated and sold..." - 5 hearts, Valerie, Love Romances and More, on Loving the Vampire.

Happy Christmas all!


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Rookie Border Patrol Agent Kaitlin Harrington hates Christmas and all men, since her lover jilted her and she lost her unborn child on Christmas Eve. This year, as she guards the Mexican border in southern Arizona, she encounters more than she can handle. No amount of training prepared her to arrest the gorgeous desperado who challenges her. His name is Miguel, a human smuggler fascinated by the green eyes of the feisty auburn-haired beauty bent on impeding his important work. But Miguel is a man of many secrets. And on this dangerous adventure through the Arizona desert, anything can and will happen.

Romantic Suspense by Vijaya Schartz
get it at: http://www.sapphirebluepublishing.com


“As much as I’m enjoying this, Agent Kaitlin Harrington, it’s not a very good idea.” Miguel had spoken perfect English, without a trace of a Hispanic accent.

“You speak English?” Kaitlin hated herself for not suspecting it. “You, son-of-a-bitch!”

“Sorry about meeting like this.” He pushed himself up, stood, and brushed the dust off the denim jacket. “I’m not the man you think I am.” He offered her a hand to get up.

“You are not Miguel?” Kaitlin refused his help and stood on her own. What the hell was he talking about? Confused, Kaitlin didn’t understand.

“My name is Miguel Carrera, undercover FBI agent, born and raised in Los Angeles.” He searched her eyes for a sign of understanding. “I’ve infiltrated a coyote ring in a sting operation, and there is much more at stake here than just illegal immigration.”

“You said FBI? Sting operation?” How stupid of her for not figuring it out. Kaitlin should have known there was something odd about this coyote. “Why didn’t you let me know before?”

Miguel snorted. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance. And I could hardly tell you in front of the others.”

“If you are FBI, why didn’t you just arrest those guys?” It was a dumb question. She berated herself for losing her wits around Miguel.

He chuckled. “First, the illegals would probably lynch me if I arrested their guides, and second, the FBI wants these criminals alive if at all possible.”

“Why? So they can cut a deal and get away with a slap on the wrist?” Kaitlin knew better, but couldn’t help her sharp tongue.

“We are out to catch the largest smuggling operation along the border. I’m talking drugs, terrorists, illegal weapons. The FBI needs all the information they can get.” The intensity in his gaze told of his passion for his job.

It made sense, but Kaitlin didn’t like the idea of waiting. She wanted these bastards arrested now. She slapped gravel and dust from her pants. “What were you looking for in my Hummer?”
“I didn’t rush back here to make pleasant conversation.” He winked. “Although I did enjoy it…immensely.”

A DESPERADO FOR CHRISTMAS is available from the link above in all ebook formats, and in Amazon Kindle at Amazon.com, as well as at All Romance Ebooks.


Vijaya Schartz
Girls with Guns, Romance with a Kick'

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Welcome to Mt. Olympus, where erotic pleasures reign supreme and the ancient Greek gods engage in games that have no rules. When the lowly muse Erato is unwittingly used as a pawn in Aphrodite and Eros’ vengeful quest against Apollo, can he emerge the winner of their battle? More importantly, will he lose his heart to the unsuspecting nymph Acantha in the process?
Erato’s gaze roamed the rapidly filling hall, biding his time until this would be over and he could request an audience with Aphrodite, when his eyes stopped on one particular female. “Eros. Who is that nymph? She seems familiar.”
“Who? Her?”
Erato followed Eros’ line of sight, then glanced down at his friend and noted the strange look on Eros’ face.
“Yes, her. Who is she?”
Eros visibly swallowed. “Acantha.”
Erato frowned, trying to bring forth a memory that hovered at the edge of his mind. “Acantha. Ah, yes. Now I remember.”
“You do?” Eros squeaked out the question and Erato once again looked at him more closely over this strange behavior.
“Yes, of course I do. Sister of Acanthus. She’s the nymph that Apollo was in love with for a while, isn’t she? She’s hasn’t been around. Whatever happened to her?”
Eros’ continence changed once again, looking almost relieved. “Yes, of course you’d remember her. It was quite the scandal back then. She rebuffed his advances and in the process, left a scratch on his precious face...”
If Erato remembered correctly, it was more like attempted rape than an advance, but he let Eros continue uninterrupted. “…and as punishment, she was banished by that vain bastard Apollo,” Eros finished with a scowl.

Erato nodded. He remembered Acantha’s fate now. He’d threaten to turn her into a tree but instead doomed her to live in the mortal realm but never be loved. There was no love lost between Eros and Apollo, either. Not since Apollo had insulted Eros’ skill as an archer, and Eros retaliated by making Apollo fall in love with Daphne while at the same time making sure Daphne feared and hated Apollo in return. That had been a mess.
Erato found his eyes inexplicably drawn back to Acantha, who gazed serenely around the assembled group until her eyes met his, and then it was as if a lightning bolt sent a blast of ions straight through him. It had been a long time since a female, even a nymph, had that effect upon him. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?” Eros was back to looking at him oddly again.
“Hmm, I think I’ll make time to find Acantha later. To welcome her back.” Perhaps while she was on her back, he added, suddenly feeling amorous.


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When Danger Calls releases today

Today's the 'official' release day for WHEN DANGER CALLS, my Action-Adventure Romance from Five Star Expressions. In this scene, Frankie Castor runs into Ryan, whom she's just met while moonlighting as a cocktail waitress. Neither used their own name when they met at the bar. They're both in the ER, although for different reasons.
(If you'd like to start with Chapter 1, you can find it on my website).

"Do you want me to call the doctor back for you?" Frankie asked.

Still gazing at the floor, he shook his head. "No," he croaked. "I'm fine."

"I'm no doctor, but it's obvious that you're not. Can I get you some water, Jack?"

This time he looked up, and she knew those eyes, bloodshot and full of anguish, recognized her. In the harsh emergency room lighting, she saw they were the color of the whiskey he drank.


"Frances, actually. Frankie. Gladys is my bar name. What happened?"

"Car crash. My father."

He shuddered, and beneath the soot stains, his face faded to the color of parchment. Before she could call out, he clutched her forearm. Despite his condition, his grip was strong. She pried his fingers loose, but held on to his hand. It was frigid, and she cradled it, rubbing gently to transfer some of her warmth. He seemed oblivious to her touch.

"Well, then can I call someone for you? Your mother—does she know about the accident?"

With an uneven breath, he sat up straight. "She's dead."

"Oh, my. In the crash? I'm so sorry. I didn't think."

Shaking his head, he said, "No, she died years ago." He stared into space with hollow eyes.

"Let me get someone to help."

"No. No doctor. Need to catch my breath is all."

Still holding his hand, which she noted was warming slightly, she talked to him as if he were one of the stray pets she used to rescue. The words didn't matter, it was all in the tone. "My dad died when I was a kid, too. Somehow, we think they'll live forever, and then something happens and you realize you'll be alone some day. But you still refuse to believe it, don't you? My mom was admitted tonight, but I know she's going to be fine. Same with your father. No way would they both leave us, right?"

Color returned to his face. He gave her a wry grin.

"Yeah. Pop's too stubborn to die. Not like this, anyway."

From the counter, the receptionist called Jack's name. He jumped to his feet, letting the blanket fall to the chair. Without giving Frankie a glance, he strode to the desk. Back straight, shoulders squared, probably unaware he wasn't wearing a shirt. Braced for the worst, Frankie thought.

Moments later, a woman in a white coat approached. She smiled, said something, and Jack lifted his head toward the ceiling. For several minutes they spoke in quiet murmurs Frankie couldn't understand. He shook the woman's hand, and she raised an index finger before pivoting and leaving the counter. Jack glanced downward, then leaned against the counter, and Frankie saw the deep breaths he was taking. The woman returned with a green scrub shirt and handed it to Jack. He shrugged into it and shook her hand once again.

When he turned toward Frankie, there was no disguising the relief in his eyes.

She smiled. "I told you he'd be all right."

"The doctor said it didn't look too bad, but they're going to keep him a day or two to make sure. Nothing I can do, and I need to get out of this place." He swayed and grabbed the back of the chair.

Frankie took his elbow. "You're still shaky. I think you should stick around here, where someone can keep an eye on you."

His mouth narrowed. "No, I need to get away. It's complicated, but I don't want anyone to know I'm here." He stared over he shoulder for a moment, as if it took a long time for the words to line up before he spoke. "Can I impose on you for a lift to a motel? I'd like to be nearby." He lifted his arms shoulder height, palms upward, then did a slow pivot. "I'm not armed. And I don't bite. Promise. In a few minutes I'll be out of your hair."

Logic said to give him cab fare. She checked her wallet, and didn't think three dollars would get him anywhere. She remembered his gentle touch on the dance floor. At the moment, he was in no condition to do anything to hurt her, and she'd have him at a motel in a few minutes. Instinct trumped logic. "My car's outside. Can you walk?"

For buy links, go to my website.

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Bronc riders Mason and Clay have shared both good times and bad, but they never expected to share their boss’ daughter, April. Can two friends love one woman, body and soul, without it destroying them?

The heart wants what it wants. For April that means not choosing between the two cowboys she loves, no matter how wrong it may seem inviting them both into her bed. But can the relationship survive when life sends the three lovers in opposite directions?

Filled with hot sex, passion, and realistic characters, and set amid the world of rodeo where life is lived eight seconds at a time, Rough Stock sends author Cat Johnson galloping full speed into the tantalizing realm of ménage romance.

She began walking toward them, her water-soaked bra and panties so see-through, she might as well have been wearing nothing. Though somehow this was more enticing.

Clay swallowed again and nearly choked. He realized he had no spit in his mouth, even though he seemed to have plenty of sweat on his palms. He reached down and wiped them on the denim covering his thighs while what he really longed to do was reach down and adjust himself, because the seam of his stiff jeans was not doing his now wide-awake hard-on any good.

Before them, April bent over to grab her clothes off the grass, revealing the tops of two creamy breasts. Clay had barely noticed the plump globes above the scalloped edge of her bra before because he was too distracted by the dusky traces of her nipples through the wet material, not to mention the barely visible outline of the pale curls beneath her undies that proved she was all natural blond.

Mason hissed out a breath next to him. “Crap, Clay. This just ain’t right.”

Clay didn’t take his eyes off April as she dressed, wiggling and jumping to get her clothes on over wet skin.

The act was somehow as enticing as a striptease, only in reverse. As April sat on the grass to pull her boots on, Clay asked, “What ain’t right?”

Mason, the dark-haired, brown-eyed compliment to Clay’s paler dirty blond, blue-eyed appearance, glowered.

“You know damn well! She’s our friend.”

A quick sideways glance told Clay that in spite of his sudden moral protest, Mason hadn’t taken his eyes off of April either. Clay grinned at him. “Yeah, but now she’s our really hot female friend.”

Mason finally broke his gaze from the sight that consumed them both to look at his buddy. He let out a resolution-filled sigh. “Yeah, she is, but how do you reckon we decide which one of us gets to take a shot at having her?”

Clay raised a brow. Shit. He hadn’t considered that.

Buy Link

Info, links and reviews at www.catjohnson.net
Author Blog at www.myspace.com/authorcatjohnson

From Christine Dionne, Romance Junkies
"This story teases, tantalizes and gives readers a sense that this sort of relationship really can survive anything – even time and distance. Once again Cat Johnson doesn't disappoint and proves that she's an author who can tell a story with plenty of heart and heat."

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MRS. CLAWS ~ a holiday romance

Now available from Cerridwen Press, a Christmas romantic comedy by K. Z. Snow.

* * * * *

Oh, crap, Christmas is coming.

That's Lauren Rose's attitude.

Why? Because her husband left her for a twit. And because she's dated seventeen losers since her divorce. That's why. "The most wonderful time of the year" doesn't seem that wonderful to her, and she's not exactly in the mistletoe mood. But she wants to be. Well, kind of. Because her therapist has urged her to try.

So Lauren applies for a job playing Mrs. Santa Claus. That might get her in the holiday spirit. Unless, of course, the job turns out to be a bigger bite than she can easily chew, and a major reason for its unchewability is that one of those seventeen losers happens to be playing Santa opposite her . . . at a huge shopping mall, no less. Then there's a mischievous elf named Ralphie, and there are those inevitable encounters with difficult children and parents, and the interference of meddlesome friends, and the appearance of an icky ex or two.

How on earth can a diehard Grinchette handle it? Can she handle it? And maybe, just maybe, find love in the grueling process?

* * * * *

"Please, God, let this not be the place," Lauren murmured as she sat in her idling car. She double-checked. Yes, she'd turned in the right direction onto Plum Bottom Lane. Yes, the address/fire number matched the one Hank had given her.

Her only consolation was the fact that after this evening, she'd never have to lay eyes on the place again.

Although it was only early November, the expansive front yard was a riot of exuberant holiday kitsch. Multicolored lights glared around and glowed within every character, creature, and animal associated with Christmas. Elves—some brandishing toys like weapons, or battlefield souvenirs—cavorted around a laden sleigh with a full complement of reindeer, their names encircling their necks. The grin on Santa's face, had it been on a real person, would have alarmed any security officer enough to give him a pat-down. Farther away, a trio of carolers, their mouths frozen in perfect ovals, sang silently. Ebenezer Scrooge glowered behind the entire Cratchit clan. A crèche scene had so many mismatched figures that Baby Jesus seemed on the verge of springing from his manger and sprinting all the way to Bethlehem just to escape the mutants. Scattered amidst these statues and more were the twinkling outlines of other Christmas icons. Lights flanked the walkway, wound through every shrub and tree, and outlined the house itself.

Lauren was tempted to fish in her purse for her sunglasses.

She wanted to slink back to her car and leave...but, damn, she'd spent so much time tarting herself up for this evening!

Reluctantly, she picked her way to the front door. The house, she finally noticed, was an attractive, older, well maintained Cape Cod, probably quite cozy inside. Feeling a little more heartened, she rang the bell. It played the first few bars of "Jingle Bells," and that made her think of the Christmas carnival in the yard. Warily, she took a step back, imagining some Little Shop of Horrors poinsettia lunging at her and dragging her inside.

But the door opened quite normally, if a little abruptly, and a boy of perhaps fourteen stood there beaming at her. "Hi!" he said cheerily. "You must be Liz." He pushed his eyeglasses back up his nose and kept smiling.

"Uh, yes. Hello."

"I'm Ben." The boy stuck out his hand.

Lauren shook it. "Nice to meet you, Ben."

He stood to one side. "Come on in. It's a lot warmer in here than out there."

"Thank you."

As Lauren stepped into a foyer hung with oversized ornaments, she heard a man's voice call out, "Ben, who's there?"

The boy looked uncertainly over his shoulder, then back at Lauren. His smile wavered, became less confident. He turned back to the house's interior. "Hey, Dad, come out here a minute!"

Lauren's initial mild confusion lurched toward edginess. Something was wrong here. Why hadn't "Dad" answered the door? And if she was to have dinner with him, why didn't she smell food cooking? Why was his son there?

A tall, striking man with wide shoulders, clean-lined features, and a shaved head appeared, frowning slightly, from a room on her right. He stopped, looking through his eyeglasses from Lauren to his son to Lauren again. Ever mindful of her appearance, she flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Dad," Ben said with a brightness as artificial as the front yard's, "this is Liz. Liz, this is, um...Hank."

The man slumped against the doorframe, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. He sighed. "Benjamin, get your bank out."

"Dad, just--"

"No. Go open your bank."

The boy cast a doleful look at Lauren before shuffling toward the stairway that rose from the left side of the foyer. She was aware of her mouth hanging open and her forehead collapsing toward the center as she watched him mount the stairs. Making a concentrated effort to change her expression — although she couldn't erase her stupefaction — she turned back to his father. Surely he had an explanation.

"I'm sorry," the man murmured, looking at the floor. "There's been a...little bit of trickery here." He shot an uneasy glance at Lauren and tried to muster a smile, but the best his mouth could do was twitch up briefly at the corners. He shoved his hands in his pockets, crossed his legs, and resumed studying the terra cotta floor tiles.

Lauren didn't know what to say. She let out a breath and dumbly shook her head. The unmistakable, chinkling sound of spilling coins came from upstairs. Soon, Ben descended, grasping the handrail and nearly dragging his feet.

With lowered head he approached Lauren and stuck out an arm. There was a ten-dollar bill between his fingers. "I apologize for making you drive all the way over here," he muttered. "Please let me pay for your gas." The little speech sounded rehearsed, as if he'd spoken the lines quite a few times before.

Lauren's face rearranged itself again, and this time she couldn't control it. "What is going on?" she whispered.

The man straightened and tried to look at her. "Well, Ben has this tendency to play matchmaker..."

Lauren turned her eyes to the boy, who was still offering her the ten. She slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh my God, you sent me those emails?"

Obviously embarrassed, he nodded. "I'm just trying to help—"

"Benjamin," his father said evenly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I don't want or need your help? How many times are we going to play out this scene before you get the message?"

"I dunno," the boy mumbled. "But if you're not gonna do it yourself..."

"Stop it. Now give the lady her gas money and go to your room."

"Keep it," Lauren said as kindly as possible, smiling at the boy. "Believe me, I've made longer trips for less. At least this one was...somewhat entertaining."

Ben's father went up to him, grasping him by the shoulders and steering him toward the stairs. He bent his head to the boy's ear. What Lauren picked up was certainly not meant for her to hear. But she had damned good hearing.

"Listen up. From now on I pick my own dates, okay? You know I don't like those overdone, plastic-fantastic women. And this one looks like she was run over by a cotton-candy wagon."

Lauren's cheeks flamed beneath her blush-on. It was anger more than humiliation that made her blood rise. All remnants of her good-sport attitude had flown. She took a few sharply clicking steps to the foot of the stairway as the man descended, and she fixed her gaze on his face.

"Now you listen up, bucko. If there weren't a child present, I'd probably suggest you do something to yourself that doesn't seem to be" — her gaze quickly but pointedly slid below his waist — "anatomically possible." One low blow deserves another.

The man's eyes didn't move from her, but the lids stretched considerably. Ben, who still lingered near the top of the stairs, pretended to sneeze, an awkward cover for the sniggers he was trying to suppress.

Lauren grabbed the newel post and looked up at the boy. "Sorry," she told him before turning her attention back to his father, who seemed on the verge of saying something.

He didn't get a chance. Lauren was on a roll.

"You know, Mister `Celebration Time', I'm surprised you don't find me absolutely irresistible." With a dramatic flourish, she indicated the overpopulated lawn on the other side of the front door. "You're obviously the freakin' king of plastic. There's enough of it in your yard to subsidize six Chinese factories and a foundering Wal-Mart store!"

"Don't forget the electric company," Ben called down.

"Thank you," Lauren called up to him.

"Benjamin, go to your room!" Hank said irritably.

Lauren knew she'd worn out her thin mat of a welcome. She turned, marched to the front door, and flung it open, preparing to flee this bastion of bad taste and worse manners. The lights blinded her for a moment, and she nearly lost her footing on the porch steps.

She heard Hank's voice at her back. "Wal-Mart stores never founder!"

"Yowza. Real snappy come-back," Lauren muttered to herself. Still walking away, she threw up a hand. "Woolworth's, then."

"God, where have you been? There are no dime stores anymore." Hank's voice rose incrementally the closer Lauren got to her car. "Besides," he shouted, "five-and-dime merchandise was mostly from Japan and Taiwan."

Lauren could hear his boots — or what she assumed were boots — clomping across the porch and down into the yard. She abruptly stopped and turned to face him. So, he was one of those types who just had to have the last word, huh? Well, he wouldn't have it with her.

His left hand was fondly, protectively caressing the candescent plastic nose of Rudolph. "And a lot of it has become very collectible," he added almost petulantly.

Lauren bent forward at the waist, the better to launch her final salvo. "I don't need a mini-course in retailing to know crap is crap!"

"And I don't need my glasses to know an overdone woman when I see one!" Hank hesitated a moment, as if he felt he'd gone too far, then shoved his hands in his pockets and strode back indoors.

"Humbug!" Lauren kicked the figure of Tiny Tim, hoping to crack his crutch. Instead, she cracked her toe. Doubling over, she strung together "Shitshitshitshit...shit...shit. Shit!" — sounding like a steam locomotive laboriously braking. Muttering more invectives under her breath, she pulled off her right shoe and hobbled, wincing at the feel of the cold asphalt beneath her foot, to the car.

She'd forgotten that a good deal of yard statuary was made of concrete.
When she was safely in her vehicle, she shot one more resentful glance at Santa's Suburban Workshop. Then something caught her eye. She peered at the house, making sure...

Hank the hunk stood at a window, arms crossed over his sizable chest, watching her and laughing.

"At least I have hair!" she shouted.

from Mrs. Claws, copyright (c) K. Z. Snow
Available from Cerridwen Press.

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Shining Victory by KC Kendricks

Shining Victory

m/m contemporary

Available now!

Stacy James survived a life-shattering accusation to become a successful businessman with a lot to offer a partner. He's finally put his ghosts to rest, and is ready for someone in his life, if the right man comes along.

Young and wild, ace mechanic Levi Wright builds engines made for speed. When Levi's volatile temper lands him nose-to-nose with trouble, Stacy ignores his own rules and steps in to save Levi from making a big mistake. But Stacy can't ignore Levi's smoldering sexuality as the younger man then pursues him.

And Levi has made it clear he's out to get his man.


…He stood still, motionless, as the light from the window formed a sunburst around him. His blue eyes searched my face with silent questions, ones I knew, although I was unsure about the answers. My lips tingled with the memory of his kiss. I reached out and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. The corner of his sensuous mouth twitched into a quirky, lopsided smile.

Low and husky, his voice made me shiver with longing. “You think I bite, Stacy James?”
I trailed my hand down his arm and grasped his wrist, pulling him a step closer. “What if I do, puppy? You don’t know a thing about me.”

The smile on his face widened. His gaze never left mine. “Sure I do. You’re the hottest old man who ever threw a punch to save my ass.”

I reached out with my other hand and tucked my fingers beneath his belt to yank him against me. Heat rolled off him in tiny waves, but the skin on his arm prickled with gooseflesh as I ran my fingertips across it.

“Call me old again, and I’ll show you what old can do.”

Levi licked his lips, taunting me. “So show me…old man.”

I pulled his lips to mine, until they almost touched. “You’re too eager,” I whispered.

His hand cupped my aching balls as his thumb ran across my bulging zipper.

“Eager? Me? You’ve got some nerve calling me eager.”

Quick as lightning, his hand snaked down the front of my jeans…


Available now at

Also available at Amber Allure:




KC Kendricks

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A Special Birthday Contest with Shelley Munro

I’ve had a great year with ten releases. To thank my readers and to celebrate my birthday, I’m having a party at my blog with special guests, photos and recipes. I’m also giving away one copy of each of my 2008 releases.

So far we've visited New York, had some great recipes, talked about flirting, Egypt and research, and discussed the boredom factor with books. Today we're visiting Banff National Park. I'm also participating with the Deliciously Decadent December author group from Ellora's Cave. Check for these posts throughout the month and go into an extra draw to win the books mentioned.


Go to my blog and post a comment on one of the December posts. Of course, if you visit on more than one day that’s fine. The more comments you make, the higher the chance of winning a prize.

The contest closes on 31 December and I will notify the ten winners early in the New Year.

Shelley Munro


CAT BURGLAR, coming 31 December 2008
Ellora's Cave

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Dream Walk -- paranormal romance

Dream Walk
The Sentinels -- Book One
(c)2008 Meg Allison

NOW available!

Some nightmares are deadly real.

Camille Bryant is a gifted medium being slowly driven insane by terrifying dreams. When she is forced to accept help from a Sentinel—a mysterious warrior of her race—her comfort zone is quickly invaded. Try as she might, she can’t seem to stop the erotic visions that fill her mind when her rescuer is near.

Ian Spain is a dream walker who’s been assigned to banish the dream demon from Camille’s restless nights. But complications quickly ensue. This is no ordinary demon and Camille is no ordinary woman: both are far stronger than anyone realizes. So strong, Ian suddenly isn’t sure he has the power to vanquish her demon—not when his own hound his every step.

Their passion ignites even as the body count rises and their courage is put to the test in a battle as old as time. Winner takes all.

Warning: Scenes of leather-clad hero may induce spontaneous drooling, erotic fantasies, and unfair comparisons to spouse or significant other.


The Beginning

“And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them,

That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose….
There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bear children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.” (King James Version, Genesis 6: 1-2, 4)

These children of gods and mortals were born with special powers—chosen to fulfill a unique purpose on the earth with gifts given to help protect their human cousins from demons who prowled the land. Some were given unusual strength, others abilities beyond the mortal realm, a few were granted the promise of longevity and immortality.

The humans soon began to fear the Chosen, their protectors. Superstition and ignorance made these special beings targets of ridicule and scorn. Some of the weaker among them were hunted and killed. Others were made captive while their talents were exploited. Forbidden to kill their cousins, the atrocities continued as the older generations watched in desperate horror.

The persecution went unchecked until the strongest among the Chosen rose up to lead their brothers and sisters to a more secure land where they could live in peace. There they set up a secret society with a small but powerful army of warriors, the Sentinels, to help guard it. Their prosperity lasted a millennium, until pride stirred in the hearts of some of the Sentinels. Power like theirs could not be denied and they sought to regain their place on the earth by ridding it of the weak humans.

They required the power of their brothers to help them wipe out the human vermin—a need met by the most heinous of sins. Many stood against them and a great war raged in the shadows of the night, in the quiet valleys of the forgotten mountains, until those who rebelled were brought down for a time to be bound in chains forged from the mountains themselves. Knowing they would never be safe and loath to kill their powerful brothers, the remaining Sentinels scattered their people across the globe.
Many of the Chosen rejoined human society, hiding their true natures to blend in with the others like chameleons.

The battle continues as their bonds are weakened and the ones who rebelled against their true mission are freed to walk the earth. They seek to conquer it and subjugate the lowly humans to their will. Many have joined with demons in an unholy alliance that grows stronger every day, fed by fear and nourished by blood. Only the faithful Sentinels stand in their way.

They are the stuff of legends and myth—the stuff of nightmares. They are mankind’s only hope of survival.


Indulge your senses...

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Two Sexy Holiday Romances - New from Paige Tyler!

I've got two new sexy holdiay romances out, All She Wants for Christmas and The Trouble with New Year's Resolutions, and the best part is that they're available in one book! You can get your copy in either eBook or Print!

All She Wants for Christmas

For weeks, Hayley Knowles has been fantasizing about getting spanked by her husband, Conner. When she lets her secret desire slip at a Christmas party with her closest friends, she is stunned to discover that not only have the other girls all gotten spanked before, but love it.

Hayley gets the surprise of a lifetime as each of her friends tells the story about the first time they got spanked. Each tale is sexier than the one before, and after hearing them, Hayley, wants to be spanked even more. But how can she possibly ever get her husband to do it, especially since she’s too shy to tell him?

This is the holiday season, though, so maybe Hayley might get exactly what she wants for Christmas!


As she sipped her eggnog, Hayley realized that the conversation had gone from what they were all giving their boyfriends and husbands for Christmas to what they hoped their boyfriends and husbands were going to give them.

“Monica and I were just talking about that the other day,” Lyndsay said. “And we’ve decided that we’d really like to just drop the kids at our parents’ so that our husbands can pamper us for an entire day. Breakfast in bed, followed by a bubble bath for two, then a nice, long full-body massage, and a romantic candlelit dinner.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Sounds boring to me."

“That’s just because Lyndsay forgot to mention the part about the mind-blowing sex,” Monica said. “We’d get to that part at some point!”

The redhead shook her head. “If you’re going to ask for the perfect Christmas present, then you need to think big. I’d want Chase to whisk me off to a private island somewhere, rub my naked body down with oil, and then make love to me for hours on end out on the beach while the waves roll over us.”

When Hayley and the other girls laughed, Genevieve gave them a disbelieving look.

“Come on,” she said. “I can’t be the only one who has kinky Christmas wishes!”

Hayley felt herself blush at that and hastily sipped her eggnog so that her friends wouldn’t see how red her face was. She wouldn’t exactly call making love on the beach kinky, at least not compared to the fantasies she’d been having lately. Just thinking about them made her pulse quicken.

“Well,” Jill said, giving them a mischievous smile. “I’ve been thinking about how much fun it would be if Philip tied me up and had his way with me!”

Hayley almost choked on her eggnog at the words. She wasn’t the only one staring at the blond-haired girl in disbelief, either. Lyndsay, Monica, and Genevieve all looked just as surprised by the other girl’s admission.

“You have to be kidding,” Monica said.

Jill shrugged. “What can I say? There’s just something that turns me on at the thought of being bound and helpless and totally at my lover’s mercy.”

Hayley could only gaze at the other girl in wonder. Well, this was definitely a side of her normally reserved friend that she’d never seen before.

“So,” Genevieve said, sipping her wine. “What about you, Hayley? What’s your kinky Christmas fantasy?”

Hayley shifted on the couch, suddenly extremely aware of her friends looking at her. “Um...” she stammered. “I don’t really have any.”

Jill laughed. “You must,” she insisted. “We all do!”

Hayley tucked her long, blond hair behind her ear with a shrug. “Nope. I’m pretty boring, I’m afraid.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Genevieve scoffed.

“Me, too,” Monica said. “Come on, Haley. We all told what we want for Christmas. How about you?”

Beside the other girl, Lyndsay was grinning. “You know we’re going to wear you down you until you tell us.”

Hayley couldn’t help but laugh. She normally wouldn’t have succumbed to their friendly pressure, but the rum in the eggnog had her feeling much less inhibited than usual.

“Okay, but you have to promise that you won’t think I’m weird,” she said, and then hurried on before she lost her nerve. “I’d like Conn to spank me. I mean, I’ve never been spanked before, so I’m not really sure if I’d even like it, but every time I think about him putting me over his knee, I get so excited.”

Hayley held her breath as she waited for her friends to say something, but they were all staring at her in astonishment. She felt her face go red.

“Oh God!” she moaned. “You do think I’m weird! Forget I said that, okay?”

Jill shook her head. “We don’t think you’re weird at all,” she said. “At least I don’t. I’m just surprised. Not by the fact that you get turned on by the thought of Conner spanking you, I mean, but that you’ve never been spanked before.”

“Me, too,” Lyndsay and Monica said in unison.

Genevieve nodded over the rim of her wine glass.

Hayley looked at them incredulously. “Wait a minute. All of you have gotten spanked by a guy before?”

The other girls all nodded.

“You’ve really never been spanked?” Lyndsay asked.

Hayley shook her head. “Never,” she said, and then frowned. “So, I guess that means I really am weird since it seems that I’m the only one who’s never had my bottom reddened.”

Her lips forming into a pout, she grabbed a snowman-shaped sugar cookie from the plate on the coffee table and took a bite as she curled her feet under her. How could she be the only one missing out?

Hayley had first discovered her secret desire to be spanked several months ago. She had been flipping through a fashion magazine at the hair salon when an article had caught her eye. It had been a story about fulfilling your wildest bedroom fantasies, and though she had skimmed through most of it, she had stopped when she’d come to the part about spanking. Many modern women, it said, found being put over their lover’s knee for a spanking incredibly arousing. Admittedly, Hayley had been shocked at the idea at first, but the more she’d thought about it, the more intrigued she had become by the notion of getting spanked.

In fact, she had been so wrapped up in the fantasy of Conner spanking her that she barely remembered talking to the stylist while the girl had done her hair. Since then, the thought had refused to go away, and she found herself daydreaming about the subject all the time. But she could never see herself asking her husband to spank her; it would be too embarrassing.

“So, why didn’t any of you ever tell me that you were into spanking?” she asked after a moment.

Jill shrugged. “I guess we all assumed that you had done it, too.”

Hayley’s brow furrowed. “Well, I haven’t. And now that I know you girls have all done it, I’m jealous,” she said. “So, tell me what it’s like.”

Her friends all looked at each other as much as if to say “Who wants to go first?”

The Trouble with New Year's Resolutions

Sticking to her list of New Year’s resolutions had always been easier said than done for Tatum Webber. So, when her husband, Jarrett, suggests that he give her a spanking every time she slips up, she readily agrees. It might be just the incentive she needs. Besides, she’s sure he wouldn’t really spank her.

But it turns out that Jarrett is completely serious about spanking her. And when Tatum’s best friend keeps ratting her out every time she slips up, she finds herself getting spanked on a regular basis.

The only thing that’s more surprising than Jarrett's spankings is how much Tatum enjoys them!


Taking in Tatum’s petite, slender figure in the simple top and long, flowing skirt she was wearing, he pointedly checked his watch. “I was at the gym,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Where were you?”

Relieved that her husband didn’t sound angry, Tatum set her purse and gym bag down on the low bench along the wall before answering. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I was supposed to meet you there at six-thirty, but I got held up.”

Jarrett nodded, his blue eyes regarding her with interest. “At work?”

She busied herself with the mail that was sitting on the counter so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Kind of,” she said noncommittally.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “And then you decided to stop by the mall to do some shopping on your way to the gym, I guess.”

Tatum’s head jerked up in surprise. “How did you know I went to the mall?”

“When you didn’t show at the gym, I got concerned,” he told her. “I tried your cell phone, and when I couldn’t reach you, I called your office. They told me that you’d already left, so I called Jennifer to see if she knew where you were, and she said that you went shopping with her. Which means that you broke one of your New Year’s resolutions, didn’t you?”

She folded her arms. “No, I didn’t,” she told him, lifting her chin. “I went to the mall, but I didn’t buy anything, so technically, I didn’t break the resolution I made.”

He considered that for a moment. “But you did still blow off going to the gym to exercise,” he pointed out.

Tatum gave him a superior look. “Actually, I did go to the gym.”

Jarrett lifted a brow. “And you exercised for the full thirty minutes?”

Her brow furrowed. “Wh-what?” she stammered.

He gestured to the list of resolutions that she’d hung up on the refrigerator with a magnet. “You said that you were going to exercise at least thirty minutes a day, three times a week,” he reminded her.

She chewed on her lower lip. “I...um...didn’t check my watch,” she mumbled.

“Which is your way of saying that you didn’t exercise for the full thirty minutes,” Jarrett concluded.

Tatum sighed in exasperation. “Okay,” she admitted. “I did ten minutes on the treadmill, and then I came home. I’ll make up for it next time.”

Jarrett shrugged. “Regardless of the fact that you blew me off, you still broke your resolution,” he said. “Which means that I’m going to have to give you a spanking.”

She blinked. “A what?”

“A spanking,” he repeated. “We did agree that was what I would do if you slipped up and broke your resolutions, didn’t we?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “But that was because I didn’t think you were really going to do it.”

His mouth quirked. “Unlike you, babe, when I say I’m going to do something, I actually follow through on it.”

Tatum stared at her husband in disbelief. Jarrett couldn’t really intend to spank her, could he? But he had taken her hand and was already leading her over to the kitchen table.

“Honey...” she began, trying to hang back.

He turned to face her. “You did say that you wanted me to help you keep your New Year’s resolutions, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but...” she hesitated.

“Tatum, if you expect to stick to your resolutions, then you have to be held accountable for those times that you don’t. It will never work if you aren’t,” Jarrett told her sternly. “Tonight, you chose not only to go to the mall instead of meeting me at the gym like you were supposed to, but you didn’t exercise for the full thirty minutes once you did get there. I’d say that you’ve earned yourself this spanking.”

Tatum chewed on her lower lip. Was he right? Was the reason she’d never been able to stick to her New Year’s resolutions because she’d never been held accountable for doing so? Maybe so, she thought. Perhaps a few smacks on the bottom were just what she needed. Besides, she was sure her husband wouldn’t spank her that hard.

“Okay, you’re right,” she said, giving him a sheepish look.

Jarrett lifted a brow, probably at how easily she’d given in, she thought, but he made no comment. Instead, he just pulled out one of the straight-backed chairs from the table and sat down.

Tatum went over his knee meekly, though her cheeks colored when she thought of the picture she must be making with her head hanging down and her bottom up in the air.

To sign up for my newsletter, email me at paigetyler@paigetylertheauthor.com with "add me to your mailing list" in the subject line!

And for more of my sexy, erotic fiction, visit http://www.paigetylertheauthor.com/

"Stories so hot, they'll make your cheeks blush!"

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Excerpt - WICKED DESIRE" (rated G)

There's nothing more exciting or attractive than the man of our dreams. The alpha hero who ignites our imagination and captures our hearts. We all have what that perfect hero is in our head. And at night in our dreams.

I write about my fantasy heroes in my books. I like them bigger than life, strong and silent. Maybe even a little battle scarred. But always fiercely protective of his woman. The kind of man who communicates through his actions.Would you like to meet a man like that? Here's one who's sure to capture your interest.

Meet Matt Dillion, my latest hero in "WICKED DESIRE".

Her startled green eyes clashed briefly with the mirror-covered eyes of the police officer, before slowly traveling over his magnificent, uniformed length. Goodness, when had the police started wearing shoulder pads? It looked like his uniform was poured over him, revealing how powerful he was, how well built. She tried not to react to the prominent outline beneath his zipper, but she felt the heat flood her face.

Then her gaze landed on the object of his unfriendly inquiry and she forgot all about him as an attractive man. What she saw caused her heart to plummet. She closed her eyes and groaned with disbelief. There at his heel, teeth clamped in a death grip in the black leather of his boot, was her small toy poodle. Under normal circumstances the situation would have been funny. And had the man not been a police officer. But he was, and one clearly not amused by the five-pound fur ball attached to him. Maggie couldn’t see his eyes, but his tone left no doubt that he was aggravated and found nothing amusing about his current situation.

She kept her gaze lowered and strived for composure. The sight of a two hundred-pound man dragging a tiny poodle behind him caused a smile to flicker on her mouth. However, when her gaze moved up to his again she reined in the amusement threatening to spill over by promptly biting down on her bottom lip. He’d removed his dark sunglasses. And if the icy look he turned on her was any indication, she was in trouble.

“Good idea,” he said, as though knowing she’d been about to smile.

“Dammit, let go!” Maggie knew full well that yelling wouldn’t work, but she gave it a try anyway. Once her loyal protector sank her teeth into something, nothing short of her favorite treat would coax her into letting go of her prize. Maggie’s mind drifted back to the empty box of doggie biscuits in the trashcan. “Dammit, please don’t get me into trouble,” she said half under her breath.

“You’re too late.”

She wondered what that meant, probably a ticket. Ignoring the towering hunk of gorgeous man she bent to her faithful dog. She pet the small black head lovingly and glared into the brown eyes looking up at her, but small canine teeth refused to release the chewy prize in her mouth. As if to back up her stubbornness she growled.

“Come on baby,” Maggie pleaded softly, praying that for once Dammit listened to her. “You don’t want that nasty, old, policemen’s boot.” She hoped he didn’t take offense. “I…”

“I have a better idea, why don’t I just take my gun out and shoot him.” His tone was full of sarcasm.

Maggie shot him a furious glare from her kneeling position, not about to call his bluff. She had to look up a long way to meet his hostile, impatient stare. The man had to be six foot five if he was an inch. Six foot five of solid, sexy muscle.

Apparently, without a sense of humor.

She gave him her best damsel in distress look, even batting her eyelashes. He crossed his arms and raised a brow but she refused to be intimidated by him. “Her,” Maggie said with false sweetness, tightening her mouth with annoyance. “Dammit is a girl.”

He growled something low in his throat, clearly getting more impatient by the minute. “If you’re going to take the time to coax her into letting go at least let’s do it inside your apartment.”

Even as he spoke he slowly ushered Maggie backwards. With every step he took Dammit growled threateningly, giving his heel a vicious tug. The whole thing was ridiculous, and a chuckle escaped Maggie before she could stop it. She lost her balance.

“Go ahead and laugh, lady, but I guarantee I’ll have the last one.” His tone held a mild threat in it.

Really? Did he even know how to smile?

Maggie stared up at him from her undignified position on the floor, biting her bottom lip to keep from snapping something back. She ran her hand gently over Dammit again, speaking to her in a tone she saved especially for her, when what she really wanted to do was ring her little neck for getting her into this predicament. The last thing she needed right now was more trouble.

“Has she got pit bull in her or what?” He demanded from above. “I’ve never heard of a vicious toy poodle.”

“It’s your uniform,” Maggie explained in a sugarcoated voice, deciding to ignore his insult about Dammit. “Don’t feel honored because she treats the mailman and the meter reader the same way.” She didn’t add that they were used to Dammit’s ways and usually came prepared with a treat for her.

“In other words, you can’t control your dog.” He growled, Dammit growled, and Maggie rolled her eyes.

Goodness, you’d think he was fighting off a Saint Bernard or something. She glared at Dammit, giving out her own looks that could kill. Finally, as if Dammit understood the building tension in the air she dashed off in the direction of the bedroom.

Releasing a sigh, Maggie leaned back on her knees and thanked God while she was in the position. When she opened her eyes it was with some surprise to see his black boots were still in front of her. He hadn’t moved an inch. She raised her gaze to his silent scrutiny, feeling a rush of heat fill her cheeks when she realized his eyes were focused somewhere beneath her chin. Reaching up, she was mortified to find that her terry robe had parted.

Damn it! Her predicament with him was only getting worse. She clutched the material closed over her breasts with one hand and the other went for the arm of the over stuffed chair. She was halfway to her feet when a loud crash from the bedroom startled them both.

print and ebook offered at:

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