Happy Thanksgiving to all those living in the United Staes and to Americans living abroad. I hope you find things in your life to be Thankful for and please feel free to share them in the comment section.
Love,
Tina
November 26, 2009
November 19, 2009
LSB “Summer Lovin” Submission Call open
Hot summer nights, blue skies, sandy beaches, bikinis, mojitos, hot and sexy heroes and heroines…that’s right, Liquid Silver Books is looking for Summer Lovin’ themed stories that cater to summer romances. Maybe Mr. Right is found while on vacation? The woman of his dreams is sunbathing on the beach? A lifeguard saves a life, who changes his/hers? Who knows, maybe a hunky bodyguard is hired to protect a swimsuit model!So many possibilities!! Let your imagination run wild. J
These summer romances that end with a HEA (Happily Ever After) or HFN (Happy For Now) but the key piece being hot and sexy romance.
This call is open to any genre and must feature a Summer Lovin’ theme. Each story will be published in 2010 as single titles.
Ø Submissions are open to all authors currently published with Liquid Silver books and those wishing to be published with Liquid Silver Books.
Ø All works must be new material. Previously published works or works currently part of a series will not be considered.
Ø All submissions must be exclusive to Liquid Silver Books; if we decline your submission; you are free to submit elsewhere.
Submission requirements:
ü Full manuscript in Ariel, 12pt saved as RTF.
ü Length: 20k – 80K
ü Genre: All genres, but must feature a Summer Lovin’.
Heat Level:
Ø Open to all our current heat levels – Sterling, Liquid and Molten. Please refer to our submission guidelines
for further information.
Submissions for this call are open until February 20th 2010.
To submit, please send manuscript via email to subs2009@liquidsilverbooks.com with CALL FOR SUBMISSION: SUMMER LOVIN’
in the subject line. Include your author bio on the first page of your manuscript, attach the MS and a one page snapshot synopsis with your email.
November 18, 2009
Chat at Coffee Time Romance – November 19th
Come visit me and the other amazing romance authors of Resplendence Publishing at CTR Author Chat on November 19th, 8pm EST.
http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/Chat2.html
These ladies hold nothing back as they chat about their novels on romance, lust and betrayal. Not to mention the hot topic of sexy heroes which have their readers drooling over the pages.
There will be awesome giveaways and lots of naughty fun.
See you all there.
Tina
“Sexing up the Spy” coming soon from
www.ResplendencePublishing.com
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November 14, 2009
Saturday Sexcerpt – Prisoner of the Heart by Anny Cook
Available at Resplendence Publishing!
This is an excerpt from Prisoner of the Heart:
When Rebecca Iversen graduated from college, she headed home with nothing on her mind but wedding plans. Less than a month later her plans were in ruins when she discovered she was pregnant the same week her fiancé was arrested for selling drugs. Anxious to provide legitimacy for her child, she married Tom while he was still in jail. Years later, Becky finally divorced him, resolved to make a peaceful life for her children and herself.
When the reunion invitation from Karen arrived in her e-mail, her Aunt Mary urged her to take the time to enjoy a little adult time at the reunion.
Young Joe Harris lived across the street from the old Victorian where Becky lived during college. He spent those years secretly yearning for the “older woman”. Now that Becky is back and single, Joe plans to do everything in his power to convince her that he’s exactly the man she needs.
Abruptly, she patted his arm. “Arnold, it was a great party, but you know what? Joe and I want to spend some time alone. And somehow, I don’t think we can do what we’re really interested in at a public party,” she confided with a little smile.
After a quick comprehensive survey of their expressions, Arnold backed away, smiling ruefully. “My mistake. Have a wonderful evening.”
Joe laughed. “Oh, we will. Goodnight, Arnie!” Taking Becky’s hand, he headed for the doors, anxious for them to be alone.
When he parked the car in the driveway and turned out the lights, he turned to her and asked, “You’re sure you’re good with this?”
She opened the door and got out. “I’ll meet you on the porch when you make up your mind.”
By the time her door slammed, he was out of the car so fast his door sounded like an echo of hers as he hustled to meet her in front of the car. “Sassy woman.” He swept her up in his arms, carried her up the steps to the porch and paused, stymied as he fumbled with the screen door. “Have you noticed the men in the movies never have to deal with screen doors, keys or door knobs?” he observed with a huff. “Why is that?”
Giggling, Becky tugged the screen door open. “There now. Where’s the key?”
“I have it.” Joe stuffed the key in the lock and turned it while she pushed. Once they were inside, he allowed her legs to slide down as he backed her up against the wall. “I thought I would never get you alone,” he murmured before capturing her mouth with his lips. Quiet murmurs and whimpers filled the dim hallway as they kissed, exploring with tongues, nipping with increasing abandon.
Tugging his tie loose, she struggled to unbutton his shirt, desperately wanting to touch him. Without releasing her mouth, he shrugged his jacket off before pressing closer. Wriggling her hips until she could rub her mound against his cock, she sighed and yanked his shirt open. A button winged off into the shadows, pinging when it hit the wall. Shoving the fabric out of the way, she smoothed her palms over his hard chest, enjoying the way the springy curls felt under her hands and the heady scents of soap and man.
“Naked. We need to be naked,” he muttered as he nibbled the tender spot under her ear.
“Working on it.” She wrestled with his buckle, cursing under her breath as he flinched when her knuckles brushed his cock under the fabric. She abandoned the buckle going for the hard flesh instead.
Joe groaned, backed away long enough to undo his buckle and the zipper on his slacks and then he was pressing her up to the wall again. Becky shoved his pants and boxers aside, clutching his hard hot length in her warm hand. He groaned again and groped for her dress zipper, failing to locate it. Finally, he lifted his head, staring down at her in frustration. “How the heck do I get this dress off?”
Without a word, she caught the hem, tugging the dress up and over her head. Then she was standing in front of him, in pearls, sexy underwear and stockings with high heels.
Joe gasped and muttered a curse before bending to shove off his shoes, socks and pants. Then he lifted her in his arms and headed down the hall.
“Where are we going?” she asked impatiently.
“Hell if I know.” He paused in the living room doorway, and shook his head. “The sofa’s too small.”
“The floor…”
“Too rough.” He shifted her in his arms and headed for the recliner in the far corner. “Perfect.” Plopping down, he helped her turn until she was straddling his lap and then he grabbed the release handle, and the chair tilted back.
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November 12, 2009
October 31, 2009
Saturday Sexcerpt – Ringo’s Ride by Regina Carlysle
Here’s a blurb and excerpt from Ringo’s Ride, available August 28 at Ellora’s Cave.
Book 3 in the High Plains Shifters series but can be read as a stand-alone story.
Rayne dreamed of the day Ringo would claim her as his mate, changing her into the lycan she is meant to be. One touch from his hands burns her with a flame hot enough to scorch the Texas plains. But the moody lycan has made it clear he doesn’t want her. That’s just too damn bad! The sexy Latino lycan belongs to her and she aims to claim him, no matter what it takes.
Ringo hides the pain of his tortured past behind a menacing sneer. Learning that Rayne is meant to be his mate is unwelcome news. She deserves better than to be saddled with a man with his checkered past. It isn’t until she is taken from him that he knows she is the only woman who can heal his battered soul.
On to the excerpt! This excerpt is recommended for adults 18 years or older.
Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
Ringo Ramone raced through the hot Texas night as if someone had lit a fire under his ass. He dodged rocks and prickly cactus, ignoring the heat that singed the pads of his paws, too furious to notice. Rage beat at him until he practically shook with it. He sniffed the ground in an effort to pick up the trail of the rogue lycans who’d stolen his mate.
His mate!
Fuck!
He’d always suspected Rayne Poteet might be the one but he hadn’t wanted that. For years he’d watched her from a distance, drawn to her sweetness, her beauty. He’d slunk around in the shadows, fighting off the feelings that twisted tightly in his chest every time she so much as spoke to him. He wasn’t an emotional man and didn’t plan on changing for any she-wolf, not even Rayne. Besides, she was too good for the likes of him. He was a motherless son of a rat-bastard traitor and that’s all he’d ever be.
The huge black wolf stopped and panted. How much ground had he covered since leaving the ranch house to hunt down the men who’d taken her? Tonight they’d had a barbecue for the town of Cloverfield. It had been a happy time and, Lord knew, he’d seen too few of those in his many years. His alpha Joe McKinnon, and Quinn, the daughter of their former alpha, were celebrating their Consummation Ceremony when it all went down. Like a bunch of raving idiots, the males of the pack had been lured by rogue lycans to the south pasture while others had circled back to the ranch to steal away their unmated females.
Rayne!
She was his predestined mate. He hadn’t known it until tonight and then, in one instant of stupidity, she’d been taken before he’d had time to absorb it all. Spotting a grove of mesquite in the distance, he loped over, shifting as he ran. Naked, dripping with sweat, he leaned against the rough bark and closed his eyes. Ringo couldn’t help it. The look on her face tonight as the knowledge of their empathic connection, the proof they were a meant to be a mated pair, had gone through him like a blast from a flamethrower. Her pretty, sherry-colored eyes had gone wide as energy sizzled between them.
His cock thickened as he remembered.
Damn his horny ass!
This wasn’t the time.
Shifting back into his wolf, he took off again, scenting the air. Off in the distance, he spotted an old line shack at the edge of the ranch property. If worse came to worst, he could bring her to it. It was kept fully stocked with provisions.
Ringo continued on, running endlessly across the empty stretch of prairie. Suddenly, he spotted it. A low campfire was flickering in the predawn darkness, shooting up occasional sparks. Laughter. Male laughter. His heightened senses picked up the sound of Rayne’s breathing. It was accelerated.
A truck was parked at the very edge of the meager light and two naked men sat on the ground several yards from where Rayne lay, trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Her clothes were a mess and there were scratches on her legs. Her copper-colored hair was spread across the dusty ground like a pool of sunshine and he got a glimpse of her bare white belly and the tiny red panties she wore.
“What are we gonna do with her? Zavalos must be dead. He hasn’t shown up like he was supposed to.”
The other lycan stood and, planting his fists on his hips, stared across the fire at Rayne. Ringo lowered his body closer to the ground and moved slowly toward them, listening.
“Something went wrong. I feel it,” he said. “Let’s load her into the truck and head south. We can’t wait out here anymore. It’ll be morning soon.”
“Please. Let me go,” Rayne said.
Ringo’s heart thumped then sped in his chest at the sound of her voice. Just hearing it threatened to send him to his knees.
“Can’t do that, Red.” This from the man who was crouched before the fire. “Our pack is short on unmated females and you’ll have to come with us.”
“But I-I am,” she stammered. “I have a mate.”
The lycan who stood stalked toward her and, grabbing her shoulders, jerked her upright and slapped her. The crack of it shredded the quiet.
Red rage clouded Ringo’s mind. His fur bristled. They would die this night for trespassing on what was his. His snarl of outrage made his prey go still. With death and destruction on his mind, he leaped.
* * * * *
The first lycan had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and run with her into the night to where a truck waited. A second man had bound her hands and feet with duct tape and covered her mouth with it too. Callously they’d tossed her into the bed of the truck and driven off. She heard the cries of the McCafferty sisters and wanted to scream her outrage. They were just girls really, no older than seventeen. No doubt they were being handled in the same sickening manner. A second truck, carrying the girls, went in another direction.
Oh gods!
There was no way in hell she could help them.
Terrified, shaken beyond anything in her experience, she’d lain there as tears leaked from her eyes. All she could see was the smattering of stars overhead. All she could hear was the sound of the truck engine and the wind as it whistled by. Closing her eyes, she prayed for Ringo.
Yes, she was lycan but not yet fully in working order, so to speak. She’d yet to shift and only tonight had it been revealed that Ringo, the lanky, dark wolf with the blacker–than-sin eyes was hers.
Hers.
Finally. After all these years of hoping and praying that he was the one who would have an unbreakable psychic connection with her, the wish had come true. He would come for her. She knew it.
They’d barely touched tonight at the barbecue at the Wolf Creek Ranch. Big Joe McKinnon, the pack’s new alpha had taken Quinn, his newly consummated mate by the hand. Joy propelled Rayne to her feet as she took a step through the crowd and toward the bandstand where the couple had gone to make an announcement. Suddenly, she brushed against six foot four inches of steely-hard muscle. She smelled the familiar scent of clean, masculine cologne and stared into the black eyes that featured prominently in most of her dreams.
“Ringo,” she gasped as his hands reached out to steady her.
“Steady there, darlin’.”
He sucked in a breath and so did she. Their eyes connected and held.
Around her the world narrowed dramatically as a low buzz of energy zipped through her system. Instantly her panties were drenched and a ball of lust tightened low in her belly. Her first thought was to press her thighs together to soothe the harsh ache in her pussy. “Wha—”
“Fuck. No. This can’t be happening,” Ringo murmured huskily. He released her as if burned and shoved his fingers through his thick, black hair. His nostrils flared. His breath whipped in and out of his lungs as if he he’d run a race.
Rayne could do nothing but stare. Ringo’s eyes narrowed on her seconds before he grabbed her arm and ushered her toward the kitchen door of the house. His grip was strong but she didn’t mind. Even a simple touch from him set her on fire. In the distance she heard shouts of “Happy consummation” from the lycan population of Cloverfield, Texas. But then she heard nothing because Ringo led her through the door, pressed her against the wall and took her mouth with a hunger she’d never experienced before. Those lips, that to others might seem cruel, softened over hers and then he nipped her bottom lip. “This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.”
He regretted her. He didn’t want her.
Copyright © REGINA CARLYSLE, 2009
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
Ringo Ramone raced through the hot Texas night as if someone had lit a fire under his ass. He dodged rocks and prickly cactus, ignoring the heat that singed the pads of his paws, too furious to notice. Rage beat at him until he practically shook with it. He sniffed the ground in an effort to pick up the trail of the rogue lycans who’d stolen his mate.
His mate!
Fuck!
He’d always suspected Rayne Poteet might be the one but he hadn’t wanted that. For years he’d watched her from a distance, drawn to her sweetness, her beauty. He’d slunk around in the shadows, fighting off the feelings that twisted tightly in his chest every time she so much as spoke to him. He wasn’t an emotional man and didn’t plan on changing for any she-wolf, not even Rayne. Besides, she was too good for the likes of him. He was a motherless son of a rat-bastard traitor and that’s all he’d ever be.
The huge black wolf stopped and panted. How much ground had he covered since leaving the ranch house to hunt down the men who’d taken her? Tonight they’d had a barbecue for the town of Cloverfield. It had been a happy time and, Lord knew, he’d seen too few of those in his many years. His alpha Joe McKinnon, and Quinn, the daughter of their former alpha, were celebrating their Consummation Ceremony when it all went down. Like a bunch of raving idiots, the males of the pack had been lured by rogue lycans to the south pasture while others had circled back to the ranch to steal away their unmated females.
Rayne!
She was his predestined mate. He hadn’t known it until tonight and then, in one instant of stupidity, she’d been taken before he’d had time to absorb it all. Spotting a grove of mesquite in the distance, he loped over, shifting as he ran. Naked, dripping with sweat, he leaned against the rough bark and closed his eyes. Ringo couldn’t help it. The look on her face tonight as the knowledge of their empathic connection, the proof they were a meant to be a mated pair, had gone through him like a blast from a flamethrower. Her pretty, sherry-colored eyes had gone wide as energy sizzled between them.
His cock thickened as he remembered.
Damn his horny ass!
This wasn’t the time.
Shifting back into his wolf, he took off again, scenting the air. Off in the distance, he spotted an old line shack at the edge of the ranch property. If worse came to worst, he could bring her to it. It was kept fully stocked with provisions.
Ringo continued on, running endlessly across the empty stretch of prairie. Suddenly, he spotted it. A low campfire was flickering in the predawn darkness, shooting up occasional sparks. Laughter. Male laughter. His heightened senses picked up the sound of Rayne’s breathing. It was accelerated.
A truck was parked at the very edge of the meager light and two naked men sat on the ground several yards from where Rayne lay, trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Her clothes were a mess and there were scratches on her legs. Her copper-colored hair was spread across the dusty ground like a pool of sunshine and he got a glimpse of her bare white belly and the tiny red panties she wore.
“What are we gonna do with her? Zavalos must be dead. He hasn’t shown up like he was supposed to.”
The other lycan stood and, planting his fists on his hips, stared across the fire at Rayne. Ringo lowered his body closer to the ground and moved slowly toward them, listening.
“Something went wrong. I feel it,” he said. “Let’s load her into the truck and head south. We can’t wait out here anymore. It’ll be morning soon.”
“Please. Let me go,” Rayne said.
Ringo’s heart thumped then sped in his chest at the sound of her voice. Just hearing it threatened to send him to his knees.
“Can’t do that, Red.” This from the man who was crouched before the fire. “Our pack is short on unmated females and you’ll have to come with us.”
“But I-I am,” she stammered. “I have a mate.”
The lycan who stood stalked toward her and, grabbing her shoulders, jerked her upright and slapped her. The crack of it shredded the quiet.
Red rage clouded Ringo’s mind. His fur bristled. They would die this night for trespassing on what was his. His snarl of outrage made his prey go still. With death and destruction on his mind, he leaped.
* * * * *
The first lycan had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and run with her into the night to where a truck waited. A second man had bound her hands and feet with duct tape and covered her mouth with it too. Callously they’d tossed her into the bed of the truck and driven off. She heard the cries of the McCafferty sisters and wanted to scream her outrage. They were just girls really, no older than seventeen. No doubt they were being handled in the same sickening manner. A second truck, carrying the girls, went in another direction.
Oh gods!
There was no way in hell she could help them.
Terrified, shaken beyond anything in her experience, she’d lain there as tears leaked from her eyes. All she could see was the smattering of stars overhead. All she could hear was the sound of the truck engine and the wind as it whistled by. Closing her eyes, she prayed for Ringo.
Yes, she was lycan but not yet fully in working order, so to speak. She’d yet to shift and only tonight had it been revealed that Ringo, the lanky, dark wolf with the blacker–than-sin eyes was hers.
Hers.
Finally. After all these years of hoping and praying that he was the one who would have an unbreakable psychic connection with her, the wish had come true. He would come for her. She knew it.
They’d barely touched tonight at the barbecue at the Wolf Creek Ranch. Big Joe McKinnon, the pack’s new alpha had taken Quinn, his newly consummated mate by the hand. Joy propelled Rayne to her feet as she took a step through the crowd and toward the bandstand where the couple had gone to make an announcement. Suddenly, she brushed against six foot four inches of steely-hard muscle. She smelled the familiar scent of clean, masculine cologne and stared into the black eyes that featured prominently in most of her dreams.
“Ringo,” she gasped as his hands reached out to steady her.
“Steady there, darlin’.”
He sucked in a breath and so did she. Their eyes connected and held.
Around her the world narrowed dramatically as a low buzz of energy zipped through her system. Instantly her panties were drenched and a ball of lust tightened low in her belly. Her first thought was to press her thighs together to soothe the harsh ache in her pussy. “Wha—”
“Fuck. No. This can’t be happening,” Ringo murmured huskily. He released her as if burned and shoved his fingers through his thick, black hair. His nostrils flared. His breath whipped in and out of his lungs as if he he’d run a race.
Rayne could do nothing but stare. Ringo’s eyes narrowed on her seconds before he grabbed her arm and ushered her toward the kitchen door of the house. His grip was strong but she didn’t mind. Even a simple touch from him set her on fire. In the distance she heard shouts of “Happy consummation” from the lycan population of Cloverfield, Texas. But then she heard nothing because Ringo led her through the door, pressed her against the wall and took her mouth with a hunger she’d never experienced before. Those lips, that to others might seem cruel, softened over hers and then he nipped her bottom lip. “This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.”
He regretted her. He didn’t want her.
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October 30, 2009
Trick or Treat around the Blogs!
Welcome to the LSB Trick or Treat Blog Tour! You should have come from:
http://tiellestclare.blogspot.com/
And we began our tour here:
http://gemsivad.wordpress.com/blog/
So as I sit here I wonder: Which is hotter The Vampire or the Werewolf? Hmm. Let’s get some figures.
Vampires
Why are most of these vampires bad? Hmm.
Werewolf
Werewolf
Oz is HOT!
My preferences are likely already apparent. I love Werewolves!
Of course we can’t forget about a possible Hybrid!
So which do you think is hotter? And do you have a favorite from a book, movie or TV show?
Leave your comment for a chance to win one of our many prizes.
Tina
October 29, 2009
October 24, 2009
Saturday Sexcerpt – Handcuffs and Lies by Bronwyn Green
You are in for a treat Naughty Girls – this is from Bronwyn’s August release, Handcuffs and Lies available now at Resplendence Publishing.
“You sure this is where you want to go?” the cab driver asked.
Michael’s motorcycle was parked in front of the house. “Yeah.”
The guy eyed her in the rearview mirror as he stopped in the middle of the street. “If you say so.”
She passed the fare over the seat. “Are you going to be in this area for a bit?”
“In this neighborhood? Hell, no.” He paused and scrawled something on a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need a ride.”
“Thanks.” Tori shoved the scrap of paper in her wallet and slid out of the car.
“Be careful out there,” the driver cautioned.
She smiled at him and hoped she wasn’t about to do something irreparably stupid.
Hands clammy, she wiped them on her jeans and walked up the rickety front steps to knock on the door. Her knuckled rasped against the peeling paint on the warped screen door. Nerves strung tightly, she jammed her hands in her pockets and waited for someone to answer.
The heavy front door swung open with a whoosh and she came face to face with the man she’d studiously avoided for three years. His rich brown hair hung loosely to his shoulders and he looked like hadn’t shaved for days. Brilliant hazel eyes stared at her registering surprise quickly followed by anger.
“I—I need to talk to you,” she stammered.
The sculpted shape of his lips thinned as they pulled into a tight line. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of three men coming toward the door. Instinctively, she retreated, but Michael’s arm snaked out and he tugged her against the hard planes of his body. Her traitorous nipples responded immediately. Despite the fact she could barely recall their one drunken encounter, her body certainly remembered, and it wanted more.
His eyes, intense and unwavering, bored into hers, and he lowered his head. Her heart sank as she realized he was going to kiss her and she couldn’t convince herself to move away. His mouth brushed against hers. The barest contact held her breath captive in her throat. It was all she could do to hold herself still and not shove her tongue in his mouth. With his chest skimming her breasts, his lips traced the line of her jaw, up to her ear.
“Act like you want me, or we’re both dead,” he growled softly.
With shaking hands, she reached out and grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against her. Michael fisted his hand in her hair and cupped the back of her head. Streaks of pleasure shot along her spine as his fingernails scraped across her scalp.
His lips descended on hers and his tongue slipped past her shocked defenses. A whimper escaped her as she released her pent up breath into his mouth. With a quiet groan, he pressed his lips to hers as he turned her and immobilized her against the door. Wrapping her leg around his, she kissed him back, her tongue darting into his mouth. He tasted like coffee, dark and rich, and something else that was entirely masculine and Michael. In spite of her misgivings, desire curled through her body, dampening her panties and pebbling her nipples where they pressed into his chest.
“Hey Mikey, we gonna finish our business, or what? ‘Less of course you’re sharing.”
The audible leer in the other man’s voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“Not a word,” Michael whispered against her lips. Turning his head toward the other men, he chuckled. It sounded cold. Deadly. “Sorry boys, this one’s mine.”
“You gonna fuck her, or are we gonna finish this?”
Michael looked at her, his eyes glowing with anger. “Oh yeah—I’m definitely gonna fuck her. Just as soon as we’re done here.”
Tori’s stomach dropped like an out-of-control freight elevator as she stared into his glittering hazel eyes. She should have waited for him to call back. She was so over her head.
Michael slid his hand possessively up her ribcage, stopping only when it rested under the swell of her breast. He held her gaze, as if daring her to object.
The three men drew closer. The man who’d spoken to Michael earlier reached out and tugged at one of her short curls. His eyes were small and cruel looking as he appraised her body with a hard stare. “C’mon darlin’, lemme show you what a real man is like.” He jerked his thumb toward a tall, lanky guy with watery blue eyes. “Me an’ my boy here can show you a real good time.”
Forcing a smile, Tori hooked her fingers in the front of Michael’s waistband. The backs of her fingers brushed across his tightly muscled stomach and his body heat soaked into her skin. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Sorry guys, Michael promised me the ride of my life.”
His fingers convulsed on her ribcage at her husky words. She knew, even if the others were clueless, that he was ready to throttle her.
Michael chuckled again, that same cold, dead sound. “Let’s get this over with,” he said to the others. With ice in his eyes, he turned back to Tori and pulled her closer, close enough to feel the raging erection pushing against his fly. “Seems I’ve got things to do.”
Don’t forget to check out these other Titles from Bronwyn Green!
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October 23, 2009
Friday Excerpt – Cuffed and Dangerous by Bronwyn Green
Q: Can you share a little of your current work with us?
When I asked Bronwyn this question I had no idea I would get such a great Excerpt so I just had to give it’s own day.
A: This is the opening of my new story, Cuffed and Dangerous, available from Resplendence Publishing on 11/3/09.
She might be fooling some of the regulars at the Jack Pine tavern, but she sure as shit wasn’t fooling him. Gideon Wells eyed the blonde as she nursed her drink like a broken heart. Her depressed demeanor was Oscar-worthy, but this girl was hunting. He’d bet his right ball her prey would be walking through the door any minute.
He leaned back in his chair and observed her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Short, honey-blonde hair framed her face, stopping just past her chin. She had pale, almost translucent skin that reminded him of angels or vampires—but he knew she was neither. His gaze rose to her full lips. God damn if she didn’t have a mouth made for sin. His cock stirred behind the fly of his jeans, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
He watched her use the mirror to scan the room, stopping when she met his gaze. Huge eyes the color of dark, melted chocolate glared at him, and he couldn’t help but smile. She was a bounty hunter. He’d never seen her, but he’d heard plenty about her over the last three years. While the members of the shifter community might not be best buddies, they kept each other apprised of shared dangers—like a bounty hunter with a hard-on for feline shape shifters.
Her short, snug skirt rode up her legs giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her thighs. It was impossible not to imagine how the creamy flesh would taste as he lapped at her. As if she knew his thoughts, her frown deepened and she looked away. He took that opportunity to continue his perusal of her gentle curves, following the delicately muscled line of her leg downward. Her feet were encased in impossibly high heels and thin bands of leather wrapped around her ankles. The sharp contrast of the black leather against her porcelain skin hardened his cock further as he imagined her bound to his bed, wide leather cuffs securing her hands and ankles, her body open and weeping for him.
Her foot tapped in a agitated rhythm against the metal rung of the bar stool and he dragged his attention upward. Her full lips were pursed in annoyance as she stared at him. Raising his bottle, he saluted her, barely stifling a laugh when she flipped him off.
The door of the bar swung open and her eyes darted almost imperceptibly toward the doorway. He followed her gaze and nearly groaned aloud as he saw his best friend zero in on the woman at the bar. This wouldn’t end well.
With an easy grin, Jude Caulfield approached the blonde and leaned on the bar while he ordered a beer. His smile faded as he crossed the room and sank into an empty chair next to Gideon. After a nearly draining the bottle, he set it on the table and sighed.
“The Montgomery build is on hold and I’m laid off indefinitely, the bar’s out of Killian’s Red and I just got shot down by the hottest woman I’ve seen in months.”
Gideon grinned. “So you’re writing country songs, now?”
“Fuck you.” Jude nodded toward the bar. “Who is she?”
“If I’m not mistaken, that’s Wrenn Saunders.”
“The bounty hunter?”
Before Gideon could respond, a triangle of dull light slid across the floor as the door opened, and Spencer Dane entered. Besides being a werelion and an all around dick, he was also the head of the local lion pride. While Spencer might masquerade as a reputable businessman, he was nothing more than a drug dealer using his import company as a front and the members of his pride to distribute his product. The tiny hairs stood up on the back of Gideon’s neck and the need to shift burned through his veins. It was more than cats not playing nicely with those outside their own genus, he hated this guy.
“Easy there,” Jude murmured. “The last thing I need today is for you to go panther on him. I can’t afford to bail your ass out of jail.”
Nodding, Gideon took another swallow of beer, attempting to swallow his dislike with the cool liquid and watched as the creep made his way toward the blonde at the bar. His beast rose in his chest at the sight of Spencer’s hand stroking her forearm, his meaty paws caressing her bare skin.
Gideon’s fingers clenched around his bottle as she leaned toward Spencer, giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage. Forcing his grip to relax, he drained the last of his beer. What did it matter that she was flirting with a lowlife like Spencer? Gideon would love to think that she was in the Jack Pine to haul the bastard in, but so far, the other man had managed to keep his illegal dealings unproven, letting his pride members take the fall for him.
The bounty hunter swiveled on her stool. Buttons near to popping, her tight blouse left very little to the imagination, including the hint of black lace that cupped the full mounds of her breasts.
“Holy Mother of God,” Jude breathed.
“Yeah.” It was the only word he could choke out.
Equally enamored, Spencer laid his hand on her bare thigh as she giggled, peering at him through her lashes. In a move so fast, it must have taken years of practice, she pulled a pair of handcuffs from her waistband and snapped one of the bracelets around his wrist.
Spencer stared at his hand, dumfounded. “What the fuck?”
Hopping off the bar stool, she dragged his hand behind his back as she shoved his torso toward the bar top and wrestled the cuff around his other wrist.
“You’re under arrest, asshole,” she said.
“ I think I’m in love,” Jude breathed.
Spencer pushed himself back to an upright position. Straining his muscles, he fought against the restraints. “You’ve got nothing on me, bitch.”
She grabbed the cuffs, and pulled them upward, twisting his arms in his sockets. “Don’t bother—they’re silver. And actually, I do. There’s a bench warrant from a judge in Detroit for your arrest. You’re more than two years behind on child support.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That’s life.”
“Look, I can triple whatever your bounty is. Just unlock the cuffs, and the money’s yours.”
With her free hand, she removed a colt from her purse and pressed the muzzle into his back. “I’ve got a full cylinder. The rounds aren’t silver, so you’ll heal, but I can make sure it hurts like hell before you do.”
“Yep,” Jude nodded. “Definitely in love.”
“Whore,” Spencer growled.
“Helplessness is a bitch, huh?” Keeping a tight grip on the chain connecting the cuffs and the gun pressed against his spine she shoved him toward the door.
Join me again tomorrow for our Regular Saturday Sexcerpt!
Love,
Tina
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