Giveaway Info: Prize is 5 $5 Dunkin Donut Gift Cards from Fiona McGier (1 each to 5 winners). Contest is tour-wide and ends May 20. Must be 18 years of age or older to enter. Rafflecopter and tour schedule links are at the bottom of the posts. Good Luck!
For the Love of His Life
by Fiona McGier
Contemporary Erotic Romance
Publisher: Eternal Press
Release Date: May 1, 2013
Heat Level: Steamy
Word Count: 81,600 words
Can a sexy Hispanic action movie star find himself in the BWCA of upper Minnesota? Will the local woman he grows to love believe someone who “lies for a living”?
When the famous action movie star Raul Roderick needs to “clean-up” for a major role that even he doubts he can deliver, the director sends him up to a resort owned by his grandmother in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area of upper Minnesota, to learn to commune with nature. His guide is Veronica, the director’s cousin, a tall, athletic woman who has the relaxed, sensible nature of someone who knows herself well.
Raul hasn’t been this far from his reliable drug-dealers for a very long time, and dealing with real-life is something he’s never been very good at. His initial clumsy attempt to seduce her makes her laugh…so he calls her fat. Is there any hope that their relationship will progress beyond its rocky start? And can Raul overcome his partying nature to discover what is really important in life?
Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations (including a f/f/m ménage scene/scenes in the first chapter) and/or adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.
Excerpt #1–G rated–The set-up.
Jared Miller, the famous yet reclusive director, is on the phone asking for a favor from his Grandmother who owns a resort in northeastern Minnesota.
“What is it this time?”
Jared cleared his throat audibly.
“I’m afraid it’s bigger this time. I need you to let me send you a guest who will be there until I can get the crew up to start filming my next movie.”
“And how long with that be?” Veronica grinned at Gram-Marie while the older woman rolled her eyes and shrugged.
“I don’t know…it depends on a lot of things. Maybe a month? Six weeks tops. I’ve got to get a whole lot of folks packed and up there, so it’s gonna take some time.”
“And who is it you are expecting us to tolerate for an unspecified amount of time?”
“Ronnie! Would I send you someone you’d only tolerate?”
“Hell yeah! You’d send us Satan to baby-sit, if your next movie depended on it.”
“Funny you should say that, cuz. He’s only the biggest, baddest star in the business right now.”
“Who is it?”
“You’ve heard of Raul Roderick, right?”
Jared chuckled, “The Gamer King? Avenge Tastes Sweet? MOFO-Town?”
“No,” Marie said, while Veronica smiled at her, all the while filling the pie crusts with the flavors of the day.
“Well then, how about his romantic movies? Make Mine Latino? Or Three’s a Crowd, But I Like Crowds?”
Veronica giggled. “Jared, you should see Gram-Marie’s face! She looks like she just sucked a lemon!”
“What on earth are you people thinking of with these titles? Or these so-called plots? Why doesn’t anyone make the kinds of movies I like to watch anymore?”
“Because you’re too old for them to consider you a target market?”
Veronica whooped as she ducked away from the rolling pin tossed at her by her grandmother.
“Old, my ass! I just expect plots and they’re too damn busy putting big, fake titties and young men without shirts into everything!”
“So you have heard of Raul then?” Jared chuckled.
Veronica explained, “Gram-Marie, he’s the kind of actor who is very good at looking good in his movies, and he’s always shirtless at some point. But he’s kind of limited to playing the same kinds of men over and over again…not much range, and even less talent.”
Jared burst in excitedly.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re so wrong, Ronnie! I only agreed to let him read for the part as a favor to his agent. But he blew me away! He’s so right that he’s the only actor I seriously considered for starring in my big epic film about the Boundary Waters area! You know, the one I always promised Grampa I’d make about his great grandfather, Hank Maynard?”
“If he’s that good, why do you need to send him up here early?”
Marie nodded at Veronica’s question, asked as she was busy putting the pies into the oven.
Jared cleared his throat again.
“Well, you see, there’s the little problem of his drinking…and his drugs…and his whoring. He’s a real party-animal and right now the only reason he’s not in jail is that I went to court with him and basically told the judge I’d answer for his behavior until his probation is over.”
“Probation for what?”
Marie’s voice was steely. Everyone knew that her father had been a Canadian Mounty, and she was gung-ho on supporting law enforcement officials.
“He…uh…can’t be allowed to drive for six months. They took his license away after he ran into a parked squad car because he thought he hit the brake pedal, but it was the gas pedal. Then when they got him out of the car, he was so blasted he didn’t remember his real name. All he told them was that he was the famous actor Raul Roderick and that he’d get them supporting roles in his next picture if they would give him a ride to the meeting with me that he was already two hours late for.”
“Obviously the officers weren’t impressed, eh?” Marie sounded smug.
“No. They took him down to the station and booked him. I was the person he called for his one call…not his lawyer. So I got him released to my custody, but I’ve been having a hell of a time keeping him out from behind the wheel of a car, or out of bars and nightclubs. I’m afraid he’s going to kill himself before I can get the performance of a lifetime out of him, that I’m convinced he has in him. So I really need your help…”
There was silence while Marie and Veronica communicated with each other non-verbally.
“Well?” Jared sounded anxious.
Marie nodded at Veronica, who spoke.
“We can’t give you an answer now. We have to talk this over with the rest of the family. All of us have to agree to this, since we are all going to have to deal with this spoiled brat you want us to baby-sit for you.”
About the Author
Fiona has always had stories in her head. Characters intrude into her thoughts and insist on showing her scenes from their lives. She discovered that when she ignores them, they start to yell louder; if she writes their stories and they can live in readers’ heads as well, they usually leave her alone. Only to be replaced by a new group of story-tellers. Her head is usually a very crowded place, but she likes it that way. Visit Fiona at www.fionamcgier.com.
The grand prize, a signed copy of The Dom with a Safeword, and swag- bookmark, magnet and necklace. Winner will be selected by Rafflecopter. No individual tour stop prizes. Rafflecopter and tour schedule links are at the bottom of the post. Good Luck!
Godfrey Cross is a big, tattooed Dom with no tolerance for brats. But when he meets two mouthy vanilla girls, he begins to see their charm.
Gemma and Izzy seem more into each other than into him and he wonders if he’s wasting his time. Yet despite the clash between his strict version of BDSM and their rebellious natures, he finds himself growing to love them.
When his need for control tears their relationship apart, they must learn to compromise or they will lose each other. People may not be perfect, but could these two be perfect for him?
EXCERPT – EXPLICIT
When Gemma and Izzy express interest in his upcoming sale, Godfrey Cross invites them to his Goth clothes store after hours. The girls have been teasing him and only have a vague idea as to how far Cross will go…
The next time they came out, giggling and flushed, they wore matching black PVC dresses with black studded leather collars. Gemma’s expression was downright naughty, and Izzy looked smug. Cross immediately imagined bringing them into the club like that, on a tandem leash, but freshly spanked and biddable. He stifled a hiss as his arousal evaded his control.
“So are you two a matched set now?” He arched a brow.
Gemma bit her lip then prowled over to him, dragging Izzy in her wake. “I think he likes these, Izzy. What is it, knuckle-dragger? The twin thing? The collar thing? Are we making you think bad thoughts?”
“I warned you I’m no gentleman.” Cross adjusted himself through his jeans without any attempt at being subtle.
They both looked amused. Not easily shocked, for vanilla girls.
“So if we touched you, would you fall at our feet and worship us?” Gemma looked at Cross speculatively.
“Maybe I should tie your hands together to avoid that?” he growled. Girls didn’t talk to him like this. They ducked their heads and did what they were told. He had to fight down mild annoyance. This girl wasn’t his… yet. If she was, she’d be clutching her sore ass by now, with fat tears rolling down her cheeks. His heart beat faster. This time he didn’t hesitate to get into her personal space as he loomed over her. Izzy, who she still clutched, got the same view. Now both of them looked up at him with wide eyes. Even vanilla girls understood this body language. Godfrey Cross was not a man to fuck with.
After a short silence, Izzy lifted her hands, giving him a sassy grin that paled compared to Gemma’s prior challenge. “I double-dare you.”
He looked down. Offering her wrists. Brat. Gemma snickered, obviously thinking she was safe.
Without pause, he pulled Gemma’s arms behind Izzy’s back. “Stay.” He grabbed Izzy’s wrists and put them behind her too, then zip-tied their same wrists together. They’d actually cooperated. He stepped back and admired his work. They were stuck with Gemma hugging Izzy, and Izzy unable to get away. Nice. He generally preferred leather cuffs or rope for real bondage, but the zip ties would do.
“Hey!” Both girls protested briefly, testing their bonds. The sound of PVC sliding along PVC was sexy. And the collars. Nothing was hotter than a woman wearing a collar – except maybe for a woman wearing his collar.
“Oh no! What’s to become of us, dear Izzy? Now we’re totally at his mercy.” So much sarcasm in such a little girl. They looked at him expectantly. Despite the brave words, Gemma seemed unsettled. “I bet he’s like every other straight guy I know and he’s hoping we’ll kiss.”
Izzy laughed breathlessly. Though Gemma watched him, she was staring in fascination at Gemma’s mouth.
“A couple of straight, good girls like you? I wouldn’t put money on it,” he mocked.
Gemma’s brows shot up. “Good girl? You wish.” Her face swung to Izzy, who looked at her with trepidation and even flinched the tiniest amount.
As Gemma leaned toward her, pulling her closer, Izzy tried to squirm away. “Don’t,” she squeaked. Gemma ignored her and pressed her lips to the girl’s in a chaste way, then withdrew.
Cross laughed. “You’re a virgin, Gemma? That’s all that kiss said to me.”
She glared at him, not noticing the way Izzy’s tits heaved or her helpless look of arousal.
Gemma snorted and turned back to her new friend. Challenge accepted. She pulled Izzy closer, with the girl whimpering but not trying hard to stop her. Slowly Gemma leaned in until their lips almost touched. Her tongue tip traced the seam of Izzy’s lips, teasing, testing, like she wanted to see what Izzy would do.
Fucking hot. He resisted grabbing her hair and instructing. If the building had fallen down, he might not have noticed. This was better than his daydreams.
Gemma bit the girl’s bottom lip – he could see the tug of skin as she pulled. When Izzy gasped she slipped her tongue into her mouth and started to kiss her in earnest. Izzy submitted, relaxing into her arms then kissing her back. When, at last, Gemma pulled away, Izzy mewled, trying to follow her and not let it end.
Now that, that, was fucking hot.
They were both pink and blotchy, breathing hard, looking at him.
Gemma exhaled shakily. “Happy now?”
He couldn’t stay out of this anymore – all of his Dom instincts were pacing the cage, trying to escape. Vanilla or not? Time to find out.
Drawing himself up, he towered over them and growled. “Again.”
“What?” Gemma whispered, brow furrowed.
He glowered down at her, almost touching them he was standing so close. He ran a finger under the collar she’d put on as a joke, slowly, letting her feel the pressure. “I didn’t tell you to stop, girl. Do it again.”
Izzy backpedaled, almost pulling Gemma off her feet. He stopped Izzy with a hand on the nape of her neck, and steadied Gemma with a hand under her elbow.
“Stop trying to get away, Izzy. I know you like this.” He waited a second to let the idea sink in. “Just let it happen. You can blame me later, if you need to.” He held her with thumb and forefinger wrapped around her neck, over the collar. He stroked gently with his thumb. Though trembling, she didn’t argue.
When he looked back to Gemma, she stared him in the eye. She didn’t want to like this, but somewhere in there, deep down, she did.
“Do it. Now.”
He could feel the heat coming off of her. She liked this, even if she wouldn’t say so. And neither of them had told him to fuck off or untie them.
After one, long, exasperated sigh, Gemma took up the kiss where she’d left off.
He placed a gentle hand on the back of her neck too. She tried to jerk away but groaned into Izzy’s mouth. Small noises of pleasure gave way to frustrated moans from Izzy. Somehow his hands had entangled in their hair, and soon he couldn’t help himself and started controlling their movements. The writhing of their bodies, their sounds and the way they’d wrapped themselves around each other – fuck. His cock pressed hard against his jeans, not used to being denied for so long. He was surprised his dick hadn’t detached and gone stomping through the store like Godzilla through Tokyo.
GUEST POST: Writing Mff and ff romances
How difficult is it to write f/f sex scenes and romance? Not difficult at all is my obvious answer. I’m a woman so it’s dead easy seeing these scenes playing out in my head. Now if I wrote m/m it would be another thing entirely – though I do write the male POV in most of my stories. But I do think you have to empathize with whatever type of erotic romance you choose to write. I’d be mad to write m/m –it doesn’t do anything for me and I know it would be as exciting as writing out a factory statistics report.
Sometimes I get a feeling that…and this is a separate thing from whether you like reading them or not…I get the feeling books with f/f and m/f/f are seen as more ‘out there’ than m/m. I’m not sure why unless it’s that women are still not willing to see their own sex as equal, and are not willing to see the possibility of a woman attracted to another woman as acceptable? Which, if so, strikes me as odd since m/m is so darn popular. If seeing men attracted to other men is accepted as a hot turn-on for some women, why not women attracted to women? Of course the workings of our minds are not exactly logical. Sex, hormones and emotions rarely are.
And like I always say, we’re all made differently. So I understand why some love reading m/m. I guess what perplexes me the most is why there is such an imbalance – thousands upon thousands of m/m and m/f/m books but a bare handful of m/f/f or f/f books? Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice in Wonderland said.
Anyway, to me, and to my co-writers, these books are no more difficult to write than an m/f BDSM story. If anything, the brats and their smartass talk makes it so much more fun and fun means sometimes the scenes almost type themselves.
We don’t just get to write about Doms and floggers and nipple clamps, we get to see what happens when one of the girls shows the Dom the error of his ways in as tongue-in-cheek a way as possible. Since Godfrey Cross is a strict Dom at the start of the story, both funishment and real punishment are alive and well in The Dom with the Perfect Brats. Like Sabrina in The Dom with a Safeword, Izzy and Gemma are in a perpetual state of smartassery.
Sometimes though, when the love and the smartassery combine, Cross forgives and forgets…
When he turned around, Gemma had Izzy pressed back against one of the bed posts, corralling her between her arms. They were kissing.
“Hey, hey,” Cross objected as though he hadn’t just been avidly watching.
“You were slow. We got bored.” Gemma smiled against Izzy’s mouth.
Izzy eyed him slyly. “Yeah. You snooze, you lose.”
Gemma sighed. “I love her. Do I have to wait for your permission to kiss her?”
“Never.” He laughed. “Unless it bothers you that I pull over to watch when you two start making out in the back seat.”
“The worst part was I hadn’t noticed we’d stopped.”
“I think the ice cream melted.” Izzy grinned and clasped her hands at the small of Gemma’s back; tugging her even closer before doing a slow, soft kiss that made them both shut their eyes for a second.
Cross watched, thinking again that no porn could hope to measure up. Nothing was fake between his girls – pure love and lust were so much better than any acting could be. And how could a man be upset when he was ignored for a moment like this?
We began writing these books thinking they’d get written fast, and to some degree they do. The Dom with the Perfect Brats is 112,000 words, so it’s a long-ass book, but it only took us perhaps a month and a half to write. Even so, we tear out our hair a lot and do a ton of Facebook chatting. Without the internet, with the three of us being based in Australia, Canada and the US, this book series would be near impossible to get done. But this way, the high tech way, we can swap files in seconds via email. Writing the books can be easy even if in other ways they’re also hard to write. What I do know is that we’re making a lot of readers happy.
Nothing is better than having someone come up to you at a conference, as Leia did today, to say to you that she loves your Dom book and the f/f parts and that no one else does it. Not does it as well, but does it full stop. Certainly if you look at the combination of BDSM and Mff this subgenre is rare. But as long as the readers are out there wanting them, we’ll keep writing them.
Harlie here: I’m just now getting into f/f and I love it. I’m hetro, married and for me, f/f is fast becoming a favorite sub-genre. It’s pure, innocent in some ways and I can identify with the girlie bits and what gets the juices flowing. But hey…it’s just my opinion.
Buy links for The Dom with the Perfect Brats are HERE
Links for Facebook:
Excerpt 2 – PG
Oblivious to my desire, he turned back to his suitcase and dragged out his tuxedo. “This party we’re going to tonight, it’s a black-tie ball, right?”
“Yes, it is.” I turned my back to him, trying my hardest to ignore how much my cock loved him nearly naked with just a scrap of cotton covering his bits.
“Do you think there will be dancing?”
God, I hoped not, because I was an awful dancer. Robbie would run away screaming from me if he saw me try to waltz. I mumbled something under my breath, hoping that would satisfy him.
He was persistent with his line of questioning, though. He let out a sigh. “What I’m trying to ask is…do you know how to dance?”
“Maybe I should give you a quick lesson.”
Unable to hold back my horror, I groaned. “We don’t have to do that. It’s not a requirement to dance at this party, I’m sure.”
“No, it probably isn’t, but we aren’t supposed to be wallflowers either. We should try our hardest to fit in.”
“I’m six foot five, and you’re a redheaded royal. Do you really think we’re going to blend in?”
Bio: CEO by day, erotic romance writer by night, Lori Toland lives in Orlando where the summers are hot but the romance between her characters is even hotter. Writing since the tender age of 13, Lori somehow finds time to play video games and watch movies while taking care of her beloved cats and a husband who will forever be her hero.
Sometimes out of the frying pan and into the fire is the best way to burn.
Naked Cowboys, Book 2
Amy Stark has it all together—except for chronic bad taste in men. She’s firmly in hands-off-all-men mode when a flat tire forces her to accept the help of exactly the type of man she’s sworn off. Arrogant, cocky and condescending.
When she runs into him again later that day and then finds out her brother has invited him for dinner, the fire between them has a sizzle of a different kind.
At eighteen, Buck Montgomery left home to make his mark on the bull-riding circuit. He may have had wild success in rodeo but his personal life is in the dust, and while he’s ready to start a new life he’s wary to expose his heart. Buck knows he should tell Amy the truth, but every time he opens his mouth, hers is right there with kisses like molten lava.
When his past resurfaces at the worst possible time, Buck can only wonder if Amy will love the man he has become…or if the man he was will chase her away.
Product Warnings: Contains barnyard language and clap-your-hands-over-your-mama’s-eyes sex between a cowboy with a checkered past and a ranch girl with all the right moves
Amy ran her finger around the rim of her mug. “I understand you met our new neighbor. Buck Montgomery.” She made her voice as casual as possible.
Matt looked at her with curiosity. “Yeah, I did. How did you know?”
“I met him at the auction.” She didn’t see the need to tell him the flat-tire story, or the fact that just the short time she’d spent with him, only minutes, had given rise to erotic fantasies in her dreams that made her squirm when she remembered them. “He, uh, seems very nice.”
Her brother leaned forward on his elbows. “He is nice. He bought the Hayes Ranch and plans to increase the stock and bring it back up to the level it once was.”
“He must have a lot of money,” Reenie commented. “As we all know, ranching’s not cheap.”
Matt shifted his gaze from his wife to his sister and back again, his face nearly expressionless. “I believe he had a nest egg he cashed in. He’ll be running pretty close to the bone for a while, but I have a feeling he’ll make a success out of that place.”
“What do you know about him?” Amy asked. “Where did he come from?”
Matt laughed. “Amy, if you’re so interested, why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“Yes,” Reenie chimed in. “In fact, let’s invite him over for dinner.”
Amy drained the last of her coffee. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? I mean, he seemed nice enough, but what do you really know about him?”
Matt snorted. “Damn, Amy, how much do I need to know to be a good neighbor? I’ve spent a little time with him twice, and I’m pretty sure he’s not an ax murderer on the loose.”
“That’s not what I meant, I just—”
“He’s a neighbor,” Matt stressed. “Since when did you become so antisocial?”
Since I had an unwanted physical reaction to the man. And dreams that I can’t seem to control.
“Fine.” She pushed back her chair. “Fine, fine, fine. Call him and invite him over. You can do your famous barbecue steaks.” She rinsed out her mug and put it in the dishwasher. “I have some errands to do in town. I promised Hank I’d ride fences with him this afternoon.”
Hank was the oldest of their hands, the one who’d been here the longest. He’d been the one to put Amy on her first horse and to show her “which end of the cattle eats and which end craps,” as he’d so colorfully put it.
“You know you don’t have to do that,” Matt pointed out. “You’ve got records to bring up to date and the monthly weight-gain reports to get out. And Hank just wants an audience for those tales he’s told a thousand times.”
When their parents had decided to move New Mexico, she and Matt had split up the responsibilities of the ranch. She took care of all the paperwork, which he hated, and he served as the actual foreman, supervising the hands and overseeing the daily care and feeding of the cattle as well as maintaining the fences and outbuildings. But when she was younger she had often ridden fences with Hank, listening to his. She figured by now she was the only one left who’d put up with them.
“I’m good,” she told him. “And sometimes it just clears my head to ride along with Hank.” She picked her keys up from the counter. “See y’all later.”
All the way into town, she couldn’t seem to get Buck Montgomery out of her head. She’d hardly spent much time with him, and half of that she’d been royally pissed. But the image of the man just lingered in her brain, not to mention what thoughts of him did to her body.
Wait. She was an intelligent thirty-year-old woman not given to stray erotic fantasies. Especially about men she hardly knew. It was bad enough when she fantasized about men she did know and they all turned out to be assholes. But lordy. There was just something about Buck Montgomery that set her pulse to pounding, her blood to racing and every hormone in her body to waving a flag.
She reached the center of town almost before she realized it, and considered herself lucky to find a parking place on Main Street. The entire time she did her shopping, Buck Montgomery occupied her thoughts. She was so distracted by the time she stopped at the office-supply store, she picked out some items she’d purchased the week before. The salesman jokingly asked her if she wasn’t a little young for her memory to be fading. Finally, she decided to stop and get something to eat. Maybe a full stomach would make her brain behave better. But as she went to open the door of Bit and Bite, a hand reached out ahead of her.
There it was, that deep, rich voice that haunted her dreams and sent shivers skating along her spine. And made the pulse deep inside her body throb hard and fast.
Connect with Desiree:
Link to Contact page: http://www.desireeholt.com/contact/
FB Author: https://www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor?fref=ts
GIVEAWAY: Desiree is giving away an Ebook of choice from her backlist for each blog stop plus she has two grand prizes. (1) 6 ebooks (winner’s choice) from backlist and a Phoenix Agency Mug and (2) Buck Naked mouse pad and a Wild West messenger bag. Grand prizes will be drawn via rafflecopter (code below) and individual blog prizes will be drawn from commenters. Please leave your email for the individual prizes and good luck!
Humans aren’t as alone as they choose to believe. Every human possesses a trait of supernatural that lays dormant within their genetic make-up. Centuries of diluting and breeding have allowed humans to think they are alone and untouched by magic. But what happens when something changes?
Ambrose Griffin is older than most, if not all, civilizations. As each year passes, he submerses himself into his training, only relaxing around his protégée and friend, Shade. After losing his wife and children in the last Angelic Wars, he guards his heart and has no desire to share it with another.
Bookkeeper and romance novel enthusiast, Jamie Bennett dreams of being swept off her feet by a white knight. However, her life is no romance book. Since meeting Ambrose—a sexy, delicious angel—she’s been twisted inside out and doesn’t know why. Things are happening that she can’t control and now her life is in danger.
Balin Drake is stuck in hell, literally. His life of refusing to take souls, even though it’s part of his demon nature, has caught up with him. He’s dying and now must search for his true half, but even a mating may not save him. When he meets the two people who could fill that part, he’ll need to fight for something he hasn’t felt in over a century—hope.
Warning: Contains a rigid angel who needs a certain sexy woman to help him unwind, a book keeper who finds herself the creamy center of the best cookie ever, and a demon who has a certain taste for pressing them both against walls.
Carrie Ann Ryan is a bestselling paranormal and contemporary romance author. After spending too much time behind a lab bench, she decided to dive into the romance world and find her werewolf mate – even if it’s just in her books. Happy endings are always near – even if you have to get over the challenges of falling in love first.
Carrie Ann’s Redwood Pack series is an bestselling series that has made the shifter world even more real to her and has allowed the Dante’s Circle and Holiday, Montana series to be born. She’s also an avid reader and lover of romance and fiction novels. She loves meeting new authors and new worlds. Any recommendations you have are appreciated. Carrie Ann lives in New England with her husband and two kittens.
Carrie Ann loves hearing from readers. You can find her at:
Jayne is giving away a prize pack that will include a variety of items including T-shirt, print copy of Pick Your Pleasure, flavored lube, autographed cover flats, playing cards, keychain, etc. The rafflecopter code for this is below with the tour schedule. Good luck!
Nothing’s sexier than seven men with hot rods.
Hot Rods, Book 1
After Eli’s mother died, his father honored her life’s mission as a social worker by taking in several kids from the wrong side of the tracks. Not all of them stuck, but those who did became Eli’s quasi family.
Their bonds, forged in fires set by their personal demons, are unbreakable—or so Eli wants to believe. Especially since he and Alanso, his best friend and head mechanic, witnessed the overpowering allure of polyamory while visiting the Powertools crew.
Much as Eli would like to deepen the relationships among his foster brothers and sister in the Hot Rods Restoration Team, he’s hesitant to risk everything on a quick romp behind a stack of tires.
But when Eli catches Alanso exploring their mutual fantasy at a known hookup spot in a public park, all bets are off. And Eli must decide if it’s time to jump in full throttle—and trust his instincts to guide him through the night. If the pair can dodge the potholes in their own relationship, maybe they can race together toward the unconventional arrangement with Mustang Sally they both desire.
Warning: Fasten your seatbelts, this is going to be a wild (and naughty) ride!
How much research did you have to do on cars for this series?
Actually, quite a bit. The good news is that I really enjoy cars and so does my husband so between us we already knew most of the details I needed to get started. However, I did extensive internet research, and watched lots of car shows that Mr. Rylon was happy to DVR for us, as well as using some reference books, including Mighty Muscle Cars, which was a gift from a friend.
Each of the men drives a car that tells a lot about their personality and is their nickname or involved in the title of their book. Those symbolic choices tell a lot about each of them and hopefully helps readers keep people straight in a series that has a HUGE cast of characters. Each book title has the name of the main character’s car along with something that tells a little about them. For example, Eli’s book is King Cobra. He drives a Shelby Cobra—classic, iconic, fast, agile, aspirational. He’s the owner of the shop and the leader of the gang.
Other titles in the series are MUSTANG Sally, Super NOVA, REBEL on the Run, SWINGER Style, and BARRACUDA’s Heart.
Harlie here…I’m instantly hooked. My dream car is a Shelby Cobra Mustang….preferably blue with a white stripe and the numbers must match. I’m a totally gear head and nothing beats American muscle cars. And yes, my car is about $80k and my husband keeps telling me no. I can’t imagine why? Or a ’67 Camaro, fire engine red. Just saying…
Contact Jayne Rylon:
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Jayne-Rylon/e/B002VTCILM
Introducing Tease from Decadent Publishing, Featuring Cursed by Cate Masters – Promo/Excerpt/Giveaway
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The Vitruvian Man, book 1
by Cate Masters
Paranormal romance novella
Available April 24 from Decadent Tease: http://www.decadenttease.com
Ten days of freedom. That’s all Fate had allotted me each year. In the streets of Venice,
I could walk among them. Mingle. Belong.
During Carnevale, they had no idea who I was. What I was.
For ten days, it didn’t matter.
Until I met her.
Bruno diCesare lives alone by necessity, not choice. An experiment performed by Leonardo da Vinci, who believed having a dual DNA would grant a person immortality, used magic to render Bruno a chimera – the head of a lion, body of a dragon. The only time he can mingle with people is during Carnevale, ten glorious days of masked anonymity, frivolity and intimacy.
Melina Weaver learned fire dancing to enliven her dull existence. A scientist, her long hours at the lab leave no time for a social life. For ten days at Carnevale, she can pretend to be someone else. Someone sexy and daring, who lives on the edge.
Once she meets Bruno, her wish comes true, but everything goes terribly wrong. Beneath Bruno’s costume lurks an alpha male, but is he dangerous? Worse, can she return to an employer who sells her research to the military to make an army of efficient killers? Her only hope may lie with the man she’s just met and never seen.
Light danced in his dark eyes. “I must admit, your fire dancing fascinated me. What made you choose such a dangerous skill to master?”
“The thrill of the challenge, I suppose.” It balanced the rest of her mundane life, to a degree. Mastering each new level gave her a sense of achievement, where work couldn’t.
Something flashed through his dark eyes. “Mistakes must be very painful.”
“I practiced a long time before I worked up the nerve to actually light the wands. I found the fire great incentive to focus, however.” God, her grin must be goofy, the way he stared. Such gorgeous eyes, such a deep brown they almost appeared black. He probably had rugged features, if his large hands provided any indication. Too bad he wore gloves, another barrier between them.
“Yes,” he said, “I imagine so.”
“What about you? What other magic do you know?” Oh please, can you get any more ridiculous? It sounded like a line from a bad chick flick.
The crinkle around his eyes was the only evidence of his smile, but enough to charm her.
“Lifetimes of studying the dark arts have provided me with many tricks.”
“Lifetimes?” she blurted.
He stiffened in her arms. “Pardon?”
She watched him carefully. “You said ‘lifetimes’. Plural.” And what the hell did he mean by ‘dark arts’?
Rigidity masked the grace of his movements. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.” He stared over her head as they whirled to the song’s rhythm.
Mistaken my ass. How very strange. More strange that the question upset him. He’d clammed up, and his muscles were so tense, she expected him to bolt. Better to drop it. For now. “Must have been a slip of the tongue.”
“Yes.” Relief sounded in his tone, though guarded.
This man had something to hide. How intriguing.
Cate Masters has made beautiful central Pennsylvania her home, but she’ll always be a Jersey girl at heart. When not spending time with her dear hubby, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.
Cate loves to hear from readers! Email her at: email@example.com
Email Address: firstname.lastname@example.org
Website URL: http://www.catemasters.com (redirects to blog)
Blog Name and URL: Cate Masters
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Other Social Media: Coffee Time Romance forum
Decadent Tease is a sub-line of Decadent Publishing. Tease’s main goal is to publish stories that are heartwarming, action-packed and romance-filled in order to leave readers craving more. As a proud part of Decadent Publishing, Tease serves to give both readers and authors the chance to make a difference with romantic fiction. For more information, please check out: http://www.decadenttease.com or http://www.decadentpublishing.com.
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Lacey will be awarding a $25 Amazon gift certificate to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Make sure you leave a comment and your email. Good luck!
Ginny and Cole have struggled to connect intimately since before their marriage. When Cole suggests they surprise each other with the most sexually daring things they can dream up for their anniversary, Ginny reluctantly musters every ounce of courage she possesses to get nipple piercings.
He’s turned their suburban basement into a dungeon—and hired a sexy Dom to teach them the art of BDSM.
Desperately in love with his wife, Cole’s aware of sensitive sexual demons in Ginny’s past, and will try anything to beat them. Whips, toys, ménage play with the Dom…all these and more could help Ginny find pleasure, break through her issues.
Or, if they’re not careful, possibly just break Ginny.
By the time our third round of drinks arrived, we’d determined that I had no imagination of my own, which probably explained why I had chosen technical writing as a career.
We had also established that I’d never thought about dressing up as a naughty nurse or a strict schoolteacher or a sexy maid. I didn’t fantasize about being blindfolded or tickled with a feather or covered in chocolate sauce. I’d also never wanted to have sex in public or watch porn or pose for nude photos.
“Wow.” Donna twirled the stem of her martini glass between her fingers. “So what do you fantasize about?”
An image of a woman tied to a tree in a dark forest flashed through my head. It was brief and sudden, jolting me so I sat ramrod straight in my chair. “Nothing.”
She tilted her head at an angle and looked at me as if I’d just sprouted a third eyeball in the middle of my forehead. “Come on. You can’t be serious.”
I couldn’t hold her gaze anymore, so I looked past her right shoulder into the crowd. I used to have fantasies. Filthy ones that involved whips and pain and reddened flesh. But Ben had cured me of those long ago.
“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” I was feeling more and more miserable with each passing second, and the cocktails weren’t helping. I huffed out a breath. “Listen, I like sex. It’s pleasurable and pleasant and nice.”
Donna’s laugh startled me. It went on and on. “Nice?” She gasped when she could finally catch her breath and dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye. “Sex is nice? No, no, no. A foot rub is nice. A perfect creme brûlée is nice. The sight of a sleeping kitten is nice. Sex is… It’s toe-curling, incredible, mind-blowing.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Mind-blowing?”
She nodded. “If you’re doing it right.”
Clearly I’d been doing it wrong for a very long time. Was that my fault or Cole’s? I still had so many questions, and I was no closer to figuring out how to surprise my husband for our anniversary.
I stared down into my empty glass. “There aren’t enough drinks in the world for this.”
Welcome Lacey Savage! Please start off by telling us a little about yourself.
Hi Harlie! Thanks so much for having me here today.
I live in Ottawa, Canada, with my fabulous husband of 14 years and a cat who’s convinced he runs the place. (We don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.) I’ve been published since 2003, and I currently write for Ellora’s Cave, Carina Press (under a different pen name), Changeling Press, Loose Id, and Amber Quill Press.
Is Coming Unbound a single title, or part of a series?
It’s a single title, but I’ve learned to never say never when it comes to possible sequels.
What were your inspirations for the story?
I had a flash of inspiration while lying in bed one morning. I imagined a married couple wanting to bring some heat back into their bedroom, and started to wonder how things could get complicated for them. I knew I had my story when I pictured the husband opening the door to what had previously been a run-of-the-mill suburban basement, and showing his wife the BDSM dungeon he’d had installed. Surprise!
Please share your setting for Coming Unbound. Have you ever lived or visited there? If so, what did you like most?
Coming Unbound is set in Chicago, with a detour in San Francisco. I visited Chicago last year for the Romantic Times Convention, and promptly fell in love with the city. There’s so much wonderful architecture, and so many things to see and do. I’ve never been to San Francisco, but I have a friend who adores the place, so I’m looking forward to taking a trip there sometime soon.
When did the writing bug first bite?
When I was in sixth grade, my parents and I moved to New York City from Romania. I was having trouble fitting in at school, but on a whim I entered a creative writing competition despite the fact that I barely spoke English. And let’s not talk about my grasp of English grammar or spelling, because both were pretty much non-existent at the time. So it wasn’t a surprise to me when my entry came back drowning in a sea of red pen. I don’t think there was one word the teacher didn’t have to correct. But what was surprising was the fact that despite all that, I actually won! Turns out my storytelling skills were much stronger than my grammar skills, and that’s what counted the most. Winning that competition gave me such a sense of accomplishment, and made me feel like I could follow my passion no matter what obstacles stood in my way.
Who are you favorite authors, book/series?
Oh boy, too many to count! I adore epic fantasy, so I’m a huge fan of George R.R. Martin’s A GAME OF THRONES. I also love Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series. And a friend recently recommended Nalini Singh’s archangel series, which I’m devouring right now.
If you could have an author roundtable discussion with any authors, who would you invite?
I’d love to pick Nora Roberts’ brain, so she’d definitely be at the top of the list. I’d also like to talk to Stephen King and Dean Koontz, as well as George R. R. Martin, Tad Williams, and Janet Evanovich. That would be one fun discussion!
Do you have any hobbies or special things you like to do in your spare time?
I’m an artist in every sense of the word. I sketch, draw and paint every day. I also scrapbook, make handmade greeting cards, and create a wide variety of home décor – everything from mixed media art canvases to upcycled antique furniture.
What’s the strangest thing you’ve heard or seen?
Hmm… When I was living in New York, my mom and I went for a walk in Central Park and saw a naked man selling flowers. He seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he was nude, and sold us a lovely bunch of carnations.
Oh my…take a tried and true troupe, married couple needs to get a spark back in their sex life, and spank it hard. Yes, hard and bring in the St. Andrews Cross, toys and one sexy Dom and what do you get? Coming Unbound by Lacey Savage.
Ms. Savage has managed to throw a troupe hard, against a wall and I’m still trying to catch my breath. She writes intelligently about the one thing that most couples don’t talk about it and that’s the woman’s orgasm. Yes, the elusive orgasm. Its been argued, written about, talked about and laughed at for a long time. Most men don’t understand it and women don’t like to talk about with their partners. For them, its embarrassing and they don’t want to disappoint their lovers with their inability to have one.
Ginny is no different but with her, the orgasm has a lot more to do with a single thing in her life that she has repressed so far back in her mind that it wasn’t until the Dom figured it out and pulled it out of her. Plus, it doesn’t help that her only other lover belittle her and suppressed even further her sexual needs. Her husband Cole is well aware of her demons but is desperate to help her find her orgasm for her. He just never knew how repressed she really was sexually.
*Taking a very deep breath* The scenes were very well written and intense. Ginny and Cole had no idea how the whole Dom teachings would take. It would either make them stronger or pull them apart. I held my breath after one scene because I became very afraid that they had reached Ginny’s breaking point. While the sex scenes were highly intense they only enhanced Ginny’s journey to find the truth about her sexual needs.
Be warned that when you find out about what has been repressed in the far back of Ginny’s mind, you will be able breath again. At least, I was. Ms. Savage wrote a beautifully intense, highly sexual book about sexually repression and the lengths that one couple went to find out the who, what, where and how to help Ginny.
I can not highly recommend Coming Unbound. Yes, its that’s AWESOME.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Award-winning author Lacey Savage loves to write about her dreams – or more specifically, she loves to breathe life into her steamy fantasies (and she’s got plenty!). She pens erotic tales of true love and mythical destiny, peopled with strong alpha heroes and feisty heroines. A hopeless romantic, Lacey loves writing about the intimate, sensual side of relationships. She currently resides in Ottawa, Canada, with her loving husband and their mischievous cat.
Book buy link: http://www.ellorascave.com/coming-unbound.html
KING OF HEARTS excerpt
In Sundance, Wyoming.
It was one of the worst scenes Deputy Cam McKay had dealt with. And he’d seen a lot of horrific things over the years. He’d served several rotations in Iraq and witnessed the aftermath of suicide bombers. He’d seen animals used as vessels to hold bombs. He’d been in a caravan that’d hit a string of IEDs, resulting in death and dismemberment of his fellow soldiers. He hadn’t come away from war unscathed—he’d lost most of his left leg, part of his hand, and bore scars, both visible and invisible.
During his time as deputy in Crook County, he’d dealt with deadly car accidents, including a fatality involving his cousin, Luke McKay. He’d broken up domestic disputes where one or both of the parties were drunk, armed, angry, and bleeding. He’d stumbled across a wild horse slaughter.
But this? It was beyond sickening.
The hysterical 911 call from the neighbor who’d discovered the bodies hadn’t prepared him at all for what he’d found at the crime scene.
His stomach roiled as his brain flashed back to the carnage and he fought the urge to throw up.
But Cam hadn’t been alone in his reaction. Sheriff Shortbull had stumbled outside and heaved over the juniper hedge after his glimpse at the dead couple.
In Sundance, Wyoming.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Maybe it seemed worse because Cam knew the couple. He’d graduated from high school with Jeff Wingate. Cam couldn’t fathom how the mild-mannered insurance salesman could carry out such brutality, especially to his wife. And Angela hadn’t fought back. She’d literally lay down and died.
What a fucking waste.
What a fucking mess.
There’d been no indication of domestic issues. No 911 phone calls in the last year. No history of violence. He’d seen them eating in Dewey’s Delish Dish two weeks ago. They’d acted… happy.
Because the crime scene was beyond their small county’s investigative expertise, they’d had to call in the DCI from Cheyenne. Which meant waiting for the crew to arrive. But neither Cam nor Sheriff Shortbull could stomach waiting inside the house where the bloodbath had occurred.
So they stood outside in the frigid February weather, taking turns warming up in their patrol cars. He and the sheriff were too disturbed to slide into their usual defense mechanism, cracking jokes—which was how most law enforcement officers handled unpleasant aspects of the job—trying to find any bit of humor to escape the horror of the gruesome scene.
ROUGH ROAD excerpt
“Mama, what’s a faggot?”
Chassie’s entire body seized up and she nearly dropped the bowl she was washing. She turned her head and met the startled eyes of her husband Trevor, who was packaging leftovers on the counter beside her. She managed to ask, “Where’d you hear that word?” in a steady voice.
“At school. A third-grader said my dads were faggots.”
She briefly closed her eyes. Living an unconventional lifestyle in a conservative rural area guaranteed this question would come up at some point—but she hadn’t expected it this soon. Their six-year-old son Westin had just started first grade a month ago.
Chassie rinsed and dried her hands before she turned around. “How about if we wait to talk about it until Papai is done giving Max his bath? You can stay up a little later tonight.”
Westin’s big blue eyes were somber, suspicious of the bribe. But he nodded and returned to his “homework”—an activity book they’d purchased after his disappointment at not having schoolwork every night in first grade.
Trevor came over and set his hands on her shoulders. He kissed her temple and whispered, “Come on, Chass. Baby, take a deep breath. We’ll get through this. That word doesn’t have the power to destroy what we’ve built unless we let it.”
She nuzzled his jaw. “I know that. It’s just…”
“Mama!” A little person slammed into the backs of her legs. She glanced down. A naked little person.
Two-year-old Max grinned at her, his brown eyes triumphant, his dark hair sopping wet.
Edgard sauntered into the kitchen, a bath towel draped over his forearm. “That boy is as slippery as an eel.” He wrapped the towel around Max like a straightjacket and hoisted him up amidst Max’s happy shrieks and giggles. “Kiss Mama and Daddy goodnight, little streaker. Then if we can wrassle your jammies on fast, we’ll have time for one book.”
Chassie smooched both of Max’s chubby cheeks and smoothed her hand over his wet hair. “’Night, Max. Love you.”
Trevor kissed Max’s forehead. “Love you son, ’night.”
Edgard’s gaze winged between Chassie and Trevor. He mouthed, “Problem?”
“I’ll fill you in upstairs. I need to check on Sophia anyway,” Trevor said. He looked at Chassie. “I’ll tuck her in if she hasn’t already crashed.”
Four-year-old Sophia ran at such high speed all day that many nights she conked out while watching TV or playing in her room.
The guys disappeared upstairs.
Chassie finished cleaning the kitchen and headed to the basement to throw a load of clothes in the washer. Her mind had locked on Westin’s question. She knew one thing about her thoughtful son—the taunt hadn’t been tossed at him just today. Westin tried to figure things out on his own, so she worried he’d been dealing with defining the nasty word for longer than a day.
She leaned against the wall, fighting tears, fighting memories of the cruelty directed at her growing up. The jeers—lazy Indian, ugly squaw—still lingered years later. Back then she’d been so shy she hadn’t fought back. Her brother Dag might’ve gone after her tormentors, but he’d been fighting his own demons. No doubt he’d had the word faggot hurled at him.
What really caused that long ago hurt to deepen was the knowledge that if their father had known Dag’s sexual orientation, he would’ve flung that word at his son without hesitation.
When Chassie, Edgard and Trevor decided to add kids to their family, they all three worked every day to make sure their children knew they were loved. To make sure their children knew their parents loved each other. And to show them that love is what built and what sustained their lives. Especially when it was love that a lot of people didn’t understand.
Chassie held on to that thought as she scaled the stairs.
Trevor plugged in the nightlight and left the door open a crack before he headed down the hallway to the master bedroom.
He removed his long-sleeved shirt and T-shirt, tossing them in the hamper along with his dirty jeans. After washing his face and arms, he slipped on a pair of black sweatpants and a gray tank top. He’d need to channel his frustration after they talked to Westin, because guaranteed he’d wanna punch the shit out of something.
Faggots. Who taunted a kid—a kind, innocent little boy—with that term?
You would have.
Goddamn. Trevor didn’t want to think along those lines, to remember the judgmental asshole he’d been at one time. He’d been raised that way—as had Chassie and Edgard—which was why they were raising their kids differently.
He perched on the edge of their gigantic custom-made bed, forearms resting on his thighs, his face aimed at the carpet. Westin and Sophia were aware their family was different from the norm. But due to divorces and remarriages, didn’t most kids these days deal with multiple parents? How was it anyone’s business how they lived in their own home? Or how they loved each other? He’d bet the ranch very few traditional family units were as attuned to each other as theirs. They had to work harder at communication because of having a third partner. And he wouldn’t have it any other way—regardless of the societal repercussions.
Footsteps fell across the carpet. A pause. “Did you mean to leave the light on in Sophia’s room?” Edgard asked.
“No. Guess my mind was elsewhere.” Trevor glanced up. “Was she still awake?”
“Nah. She just yanked the covers over her head. I shut the light off.”
“Thanks. And Max?”
“Out. He didn’t last through one book, let alone two.” Edgard gave Trevor a once-over. “We working out tonight?”
“I’ll need to hit the heavy bag after…”
“Trev, what’s goin’ on?”
So Trevor told him.
Edgard didn’t say anything. Then he crouched in front of Trevor to get his attention. “That’s not all of what’s bugging you.”
The man knew him so well. Trevor reached out and ran the back of his knuckles along Edgard’s jaw. He hadn’t shaved for a day and Trevor had the sudden need to feel beard burn on the inside of his thighs. On his chest. Scraping on his cheeks and neck as he kissed Edgard senseless.
“Dangerous to keep lookin’ at me like that, meu amor. Burning me alive with those fiery eyes of yours won’t make me forget the issue at hand, as much as I’d like to.”
“I know.” Trevor dropped his hand. “I fuckin’ hate that I used to be that type of kid Westin is dealin’ with. Anything I didn’t understand, I belittled. I laughed when I made kids cry. Laughed. Jesus. How many people I bullied growing up would say I’m getting what I deserve? Seeing my son cry.” He exhaled. “I’m to the point I can handle what anyone calls us. But it breaks my damn heart that Westin is hearing that shit.”
“Hey. You’re not the same man you were. Thank God for that.” Edgard stood and held his hand out to Trevor. “Worrying about karma coming back to bite you in the ass won’t help us now.”
As soon as he was upright, Trevor tugged Edgard against his body and buried his face in Edgard’s neck. “I’m grateful every damn day that we have this life.”
“Me too. We knew goin’ into it, it wouldn’t be easy.”
“Some days I can’t believe we’ve all been together eight years. And other days, I feel like my life started when I met Chassie and you came back.” Trevor lifted his head. “Do you think we oughta cancel—”
Edgard covered his mouth with a brief kiss. “No. The three of us need the time together. Chassie will be relieved that we’d planned to keep Westin out of school tomorrow anyway.”
“So we’re all set?”
Trevor grinned. “Chass is really gonna be surprised.”
“I was surprised. It was a sweet, romantic thing to plan, Trev.”
“What can I say? You and Chassie bring out the best in me.” Trevor kissed him, more than a soft peck but less than the tongue tangling soul kiss he preferred. “Let’s go talk to our son.”
Keely—seven months pregnant…
Keely West McKay Donohue had this pregnancy thing down pat.
Well, except for the occasional glitches when her heightened emotional state hit overload and she had a teeny, tiny, barely noticeable…episode or two.
Most of those incidents hadn’t really been her fault.
Like when the grocery store had run out of her brand of laundry soap again and she’d attempted to express her displeasure to the manager. But he’d refused to listen to reason, calling her consumer’s request a crazy woman’s rant, puh-lease—she hadn’t even hit rant stage. Then the weasel had barricaded himself in his office, had her escorted from the premises by a pimply fifteen-year-old and banned her from the store for life. Luckily, the other grocery store in town had been much more accommodating. They’d even assigned her a shopping assistant to personally escort her through the store every time she showed up.
And Jack could’ve prevented the incident last month if he’d just taken her out for finger steaks like she’d asked him to. His refusal to understand the depth of her craving had forced her to cook the yummy bits of breaded and fried steak herself. So, it wasn’t completely her fault that she’d accidentally started a small grease fire in the kitchen and she’d had to call the fire department. The fire department in turn had called the local ambulance crew, and they had contacted her brother Cam—a Crook County Deputy—who had called her entire family. Except no one had remembered to call her husband. So when Jack had come home after work to see the driveway filled with emergency vehicles and McKays, he’d lost his mind.
She’d had to spray him down with the hose to cool him off. Then she’d really caught hell for ruining his bajillion-dollar, triple-worsted wool suit crafted out of special sheep butt hairs or some such. And people claimed she was on edge during this pregnancy?
Besides, Jack had it easy. His job as her baby daddy entailed three things:
1) Sucking it up and listening to her every pregnancy complaint like she was reciting secret stock tips.
2) Keeping her fed and never ever ever mentioning the amount of food she consumed on a daily basis.
3) Fulfilling her sexual needs whenever and wherever she wanted; or keeping his dick far away from her on those bad pregnancy days she suspected she’d chop it off if he showed it to her. Happily those days were mostly behind them now.
Not such a hard list. So why was he dragging his loafers on getting on with checking off task number three today?
Keely had even given him a choice on where he could perform his husbandly duties. While she waited for him to choose, she studied her hot hunk of manflesh. The man defined sexy—who could blame her for wanting to jump his bones all the damn time? His dark hair was disheveled from constantly running his fingers through it. His silk paisley tie remained neatly knotted and he hadn’t taken off his suit jacket, which in her mind meant he hadn’t really started to work yet. So this was the perfect time for a break. Besides, Jack never really meant no.
“Come on, Jack.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” she said, adding a purring rowr.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jack said, without looking away from his computer screen. “And stop staring at my crotch to see if I’m getting hard,” he warned her.
“Just tell me if your boxers are getting tight?”
“Because A, I’m thinking about work not sex, and if you want to see me before midnight, which isn’t likely, you’ll find a way to entertain yourself and let me finish this. B, if I do take your offer to bend you over the conference table and fuck you until you scream, guaranteed one of your ten billion family members will decide to pop in and interrupt us. Again.”
Keely crossed her arms over her chest trying not to feel self-conscious. She could almost rest them on her protruding belly. “That was not my fault. I cannot control my family, Jack.”
“I know that only too well,” he muttered. “Besides, don’t you have a client scheduled?”
“She had to cancel.” That’s when she knew she should’ve lied. He’d see her offer as a way to kill time. When in actuality, she saw it as a chance to revisit their spontaneous pre-pregnancy trysts for the first time in what seemed like weeks.
Jack stopped typing and looked at her sharply. “Just because you’re bored doesn’t mean I am.”
Bored? Fuck that and fuck you too, buddy. Or better yet, I wouldn’t fuck you right now if you begged me. In fact…Then just like that surly girl disappeared and weepy woman took her place.
Awesome. She hadn’t run this hot and cold even as a teenager. She hated that a curt word or a scowl from him set her off into a fit of rage or a river of tears. Yet she was sick of him and everyone else muttering about her out-of-whack hormones.
So she opted to take the high road for a change. “Sorry to interrupt you.” Keely pushed off the doorframe and pulled the door shut behind her. Not slamming it. Point for her.
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