Mari Carr's Blog, page 73

Love’s Compass

Today marks the print release of Love’s Compass. This anthology contains both Northern Exposure and Southern Comfort, the first two books in the Compass Brothers series.

In Northern Exposure, Silas Compton exiled himself toAlaskato help him get over his unconventional attraction to both of his best friends, Colby and Lucy. When an accident sends Silas home, ten years later, he has to face the truth about his feelings. When things start to unravel on the ranch, will he be able to step up? This time, his family needs him.

In Southern Comfort, Seth Compton has known for years he was falling for Jody Kirkland. When she graduates from college and returns home with a diploma and a fiancé, Seth is determined to prove that they belong together. Even if it means hogtying the stubborn woman to his bed until she comes to her senses.

Over the next few months, all the Compass books will make their appearance in print. Eastern Ambitions will come out in October and Western Ties in February.

Love’s Compass is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Samhain.

Saturday Snippet

In romance novels, fireworks aren’t always limited to the night sky and the Fourth of July! Sometimes…they are just as bright and beautiful in the bedroom. Today’s snippet is from Three Reasons Why.

Snippet:

“What are you doing?”

“Getting an advance on my pay.” Wes leaned toward her and didn’t stop until his lips were a mere breath from hers.

Jill wanted to shove him back, tell him to get the hell away from her, but she’d dreamed of his lips since Christmas. Yesterday’s kisses had only whetted her appetite for more. Just one more taste, she thought. One taste.

“Just one taste,” he murmured against her mouth, and she realized she’d uttered her thoughts aloud. Slowly, seductively, he dragged his lips against hers, teasing her by withholding the true kiss she desired.

Her libido was in overdrive and crushing out all other emotions with its desire to pull Wes toward her and eat him alive. His bulging pecs were well-defined through his tight T-shirt and, though she refused to glance down, his denim-clad erection pressed against her stomach.

“Kiss me or get out,” she demanded when he continued his torturous teasing, his warm breath and soft lips barely brushing hers. She resisted the urge to move forward and capture his lips. Struggled against the desire to take what she wanted.

“You’re going to fall in love with me,” he said, and she tried to deny the truth of his words.

“Nope. Not interested.”

Wes turned his face slightly and his grin tickled her skin. His next words brushed against her cheek. “You want me, Jill Harper.”

“Shut up.” Her words and her body were at war as she reached up to grip his hair tightly in her fists. “Shut up and kiss me.”

His hot breath caressed her overheated skin as she pulled his lips to hers. She’d wanted his kisses for so long, and now that his lips were on hers once again, she wondered why she’d resisted. He allowed her to control the kiss for several minutes, but soon his alpha instincts reappeared and—as she’d experienced at the holiday—he took possession of her body. His tongue didn’t merely explore her mouth, it laid a relentless siege, capturing everything it touched and burning a path wider than Sherman’s March to the Sea.

When she feared she’d suffocate, she broke away with a cry, but he refused to be pushed away. He grasped her head firmly in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. “Why are you fighting this? You must see how good we are together.”

She wanted to shove him away, call him an arrogant, cocky man and laugh in his face, but her body was screaming for more. Her hands tangled in his shirt, stretching the soft cotton, and it took all her remaining strength not to rip it from his body.

“It’s sex. Lust. That’s all.” She was annoyed at the breathless quality of her voice. God, please let that be all. Surely she could scratch the itch and send him packing.

Wes pulled farther away, and she wanted to cry out at the loss of his body next to hers. He grinned and she struggled to respond, to chastise him for the cocky grin, but words failed her.

“I’ll take the lust…for now. I’ve waited years for you. I’m not waiting any longer. You and me and a bed, pixie. It’s going to happen sooner than later, so you may as well get yourself ready for it.”

Three Reasons Why is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance Ebooks, Kobo and Sony.

Want more snippets?

Five for Friday

Woot! Woot! TGIF! How about five more first pages? This time…let’s go spicy, m/m/f menage with Everything Nice.

Prologue

Allie Brooks leaned back against a log, gazing into the bonfire and enjoying the pleasant buzz of the alcohol flowing through her body. Travers, Taylor and Anderson were throwing an end-of-summer bash out by the river to celebrate the first anniversary of their successful engineering firm, and Allie was having a great time although she was fairly sure she’d be sorry about the number of beers she’d consumed tomorrow. She glanced down at the pile of empty bottles by her feet and tried to remember if they were all hers.

While she was happy for the group of men and her sister—who was serving as their office manager—she couldn’t help but feel a bit envious. She’d been hanging around since her high school graduation four years earlier, waiting for her life to begin, while her sister Ginny seemed to have her future all mapped out. Allie was still living at home and working at a job she hated, despite the fact her mother’s cancer had gone into remission ages ago.

Just last night, she’d been offered a new job, a better job. Shit, the world’s greatest job. Yet instead of being thrilled, she sat alone, watching the flames and contemplating the idea of moving away from the only home she’d ever known to take a chance at fulfilling her dream of seeing the world. She should be screaming her excitement from the rooftops, but something seemed to be holding her back.

Glancing across the bonfire, she watched Charlie Anderson talking to Travers. Anderson looked especially hot tonight in his cut-off jean shorts and dark green T-shirt. She admired how the T-shirt was just tight enough to accentuate his perfect pecs. He was wearing his light brown hair longer these days and she admired the tousled look as he ran his fingers through it, pushing it off his face. At some point, she supposed she would have to get over her schoolgirl infatuation with her sister’s friend, but—like everything else in her life—that plan seemed to be on hold too.

She’d been sitting here for nearly an hour studying the man’s perfection in relative anonymity. “Relative” being the operative term, as Alex Taylor came and planted himself beside her on the ground and she realized she hadn’t been as careful as she should have.

“So how long have you been in love with Anderson?”Taylorasked.

Allie turned to look at him briefly before letting her gaze drift back to the man in question. “Forever,” she confessed, the alcohol loosening her tongue. “How long have you been in love with him?”

Her question was nothing more than a taunt, a petty way to strike out against the man, and she expected him to ignore her challenge, offer a flat-out denial, call her a fool.

She’d only come to suspect Taylor’s feelings toward his best friend since they’d moved home from college. For some reason, after their return, she’d begun to watch Taylor as much as Anderson. A fact she couldn’t even begin to explain to herself as the man had been a thorn in her side for most of their childhood. To say they butted heads often was an understatement. Ginny had teased her about her volatile relationship withTaylor, once claiming that they were both too much alike.

She was surprised to hear his heavy sigh of resignation.

“How did you know?” he asked.

Allie offered him a light laugh despite the fact her heart felt far from happy. “I’m not blind.”

Taylor nodded as if her answer were enough. “It would seem that blindness only affects Anderson.”

“He doesn’t know?”

Taylor chuckled, though the sound offered no mirth. “Never came up in conversation.”

“In twelve years?”

“He’s not gay, Allie.”

She raised her eyebrows at his words. “I wouldn’t have said you were either, if your list of female conquests was any indication.”

“You’re right. I’m not gay,” he admitted. He turned away from watchingAndersonand moved closer to her. His intent gaze, while making her uneasy, drew her toward him like a moth to a flame.

“Care to explain that statement?” she asked, the alcohol in her system making her say things she’d never have had the nerve to voice otherwise.

“Ever heard the term bisexual?” he replied sarcastically.

She scowled, but before she could chastise him for being such a smartass, he grinned at her and ran his hand down her cheek in a more-than-friendly way. “Allie, I love women too. I love being with women, making love to them, tasting and touching them.”

“But you’ve been with men as well?”

“A couple in college,” he confessed.

“Neither of them stole your heart?” she asked, silently wondering why it felt so natural to be having this far-from-normal conversation with a man she’d always suspected detested her.

“My heart’s not available,” he answered simply.

“It belongs to Anderson?”

Taylor glanced back at his friend. “He’s the only man I’ve ever truly found myself attracted to—in a forever kind of way. I can’t help wondering what it would be like to be with him.”

She nodded. “Well, that certainly explains why you hate me. I never realized it before, but I suppose I’m the competition.”

Taylor’s eyebrows lowered, furrowed. “I don’t hate you, Allie. I never have.”

Allie was surprised by his answer. “But I thought—”

“Allie,” Taylor interrupted, moving closer to her. “You aren’t the competition. You’re part of the equation.”

Before she could respond, his lips lowered to hers, taking them in a kiss that was gentle and hard at the same time, tentative and possessive in the same breath.

She tried to understand what was happening, but the alcohol left her brain feeling fuzzy while Taylor’s kisses and roving hands left her body feeling very warm.

When he pulled back, Allie opened her eyes. “I’m drunk. And confused,” she admitted, and Taylor laughed, drawing his finger softly down her cheek again.

“Soon, hellion. Soon it’ll all work out. You’ll see.” And with that enigmatic comment,Taylorgot up and walked around the bonfire, joining in the conversation with Travers and Anderson.

Allie took a deep breath and struggled to understand what just happened. She looked around at the other people at the party. No one seemed to have noticedTaylorkissing her, everyone engrossed in their own conversations.

What the hell am I doing?

Kissing Alex Taylor—a confessed bisexual who happened to be in love with the same man as she—was not smart.

Shit, she was drunk and depressed about her life. Her mind was playing tricks on her. There was no way she could have possibly understood Taylor’s intentions correctly. He couldn’t have meant that he intended to have her and Anderson, could he?

She struggled to take a deep breath and a feeling of claustrophobia closed in on her as she realized she could give in to his desires far too easily. Apparently Ginny had been right. She and Taylor were similar people with similar hopes and needs.

But if she succumbed to Taylor’s invitation, where would that leave her?

Here, she thought sadly. Stuck in this same godforsaken town, waiting tables at the fucking diner. The image of her exciting new job offer floated before her eyes.

Stay or leave?

Stay or leave ?

She felt someone watching her and her gaze traveled to Anderson. She saw him studying her, his eyebrows lowered. So many emotions seemed to be controlling his face, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. Curiosity, anger, jealousy, concern?

So she’d been wrong. One person had seen the kiss. One person had seen it all.

Everything Nice is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony, Kobo and All Romance Ebooks. It’s also available in print in Sugar and Spice, Everything Nice at Ellora’s Cave, Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

Want five more first pages? Check out these sites!

Jambrea Jo Jones

Bianca D’Arc

Lila Dubois

Rhian Cahill

Lexxie Couper

Erica’s Choice

Sami Lee, quite simply, is one of the most delightful authors I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. She’s quick with a kind word and it’s rare to find her without a smile on her face. In a word, she ROCKS! She has a new release out today, Erica’s Choice, and I wanted to take a minute to STRONGLY recommend it to you. I was reading Sami Lee books long before I ever met her and I don’t see my stalker-like affection for her work ending anytime soon!

Erica’s Choice

One three-alarm night ignites a firestorm of complications…

High school teacher Erica Shannon isn’t a one-night stand kind of girl. Pair that with an aversion to relationships, and she’s resigned to no love life at all. Then one horrifying discovery propels her off her take-no-risks path, and into the arms of the stars of her midnight fantasies.

When his friend and fellow firefighter threatens to make a move on Erica, Corey figures he’d better get over the notion that she’s way out of his league—fast—before he has to stand in line.

Griff never thought he’d get the chance to introduce Corey to the combustible delights of multi-partner play, until he senses the sheer volume of sexual energy surging beneath Erica’s repressed exterior.

A blazing night of passion has unexpected consequences. Corey is surprised to discover the woman of his dreams, and that he doesn’t mind sharing her—or himself—with Griff. But Griff finds his heart pulled down a romantic path he vowed he’d never venture again.

Erica? She’s got a problem on her hands. Hold two hardwired-to-rescue firemen at arm’s length—and away from her heart—until she’s fought and won a battle that may well destroy her.

Product Warnings

One tortured woman and two hunky Aussie firemen indulging in three-way love. Scenes of the male/female, male/male, male/male/female and male/female/male variety (whew!). Also includes anal sex, mild spanking, cussing, phone sex, fire trucks and tearjerker moments.

EXCERPT:

The beveled glass doors of the Sovereign Hotel swung back with a whoosh as Erica Shannon shoved them open. Stalking through the breach, she was assailed by noise and light, the typically boisterous ambiance of Friday night revelry at an inner-city Brisbane pub.

She halted in the foyer, taking a moment to catch her breath. Glancing around, she realized no one had noticed her theatrical entrance. The crowd of mostly men stood in groups talking and laughing, drinking beer from brown-tinted bottles and arguing jovially over a game of rugby being played out on a massive plasma screen in the corner. Nobody turned to look at her.

Perhaps her arrival hadn’t been dramatic at all. It simply felt that way because she’d never come to a pub by herself, and her agenda was pounding in her ears like the rush from some illicit drug, amplifying every sound, every smell and every sight.

Or at least that was how Erica imagined the rush from an illegal substance would affect her. She—sensible English teacher, loyal niece, staunch obeyer of road rules—had never done anything taboo in her life, chemical or otherwise.

That was about to change. Tonight.

Heart pounding impetuously in her chest, she weaved her way through the crowd, heading for the area at the back of the establishment that housed the pool tables, dart boards and jukebox. This was the section of the Sovereign where her quarry tended to hang out, as though the tables were permanently reserved for the firefighters of Ashton Heights.

Through the throng, Erica easily spotted the familiar outline of Corey Wachawski’s wide shoulders and the dark swatch of hair on his head. His back was to her, but she knew his eyes were as warm and blue as the summer sky. She’d snagged his gaze once or twice in the past few months—or rather, Corey had caught her staring. If he’d detected the longing in her scrutiny, it had never prompted him to approach her.

Tonight, Erica was not in the mood to be dismissed. She would make a move on him, no matter the potential for embarrassment.

The very thought made her heart rate triple. Her palms grew slippery against the tweed fabric of her skirt. Tweed. Erica would have laughed if her lungs were capable of expelling air. She was the kind of woman who wore tweed and modest button-up blouses, who stayed home most nights rereading her favorite Jane Austen novels instead of venturing out to experience life. Was she out of her mind even to daydream a man like Corey Wachawski—local hero, calendar model, Adonis—would want to take her up on a sexual proposition?

Steeling her resolve, Erica relentlessly pushed forward. After all, she had little left to lose now.

A large hand clapped Corey’s back. The sound of the other man’s laughter moved through Erica like a fast-flowing tide, the sight of his lean, muscle-packed body in a navy-blue T-shirt and faded jeans made something wicked and needy pass through her erogenous zones.

Dale Griffin.

There were photos of him all over the pub walls. Some in which he wore his firefighter’s uniform, in others he was listed as a member of a local football team. One was a framed clipping from the newspaper which detailed his heroics in saving a local man from a fire. And on the ladies’ room wall, his picture from an old Queensland Firefighter’s Charity Calendar was pinned, right beside Corey’s more recent one.

Erica was both exhilarated and terrified to see Griff—whenever she’d heard one of his colleagues call out to him above the usual cacophony of pub noises, they always called him Griff—here as well.

There was nothing to stop her living out her ultimate fantasy.

Nothing except it required her to sexually proposition not just one man, but two. Twenty-eight years old and she’d never so much as initiated a coffee date with a member of the opposite sex.

That’s right, Erica. You haven’t been living at all, and now it could be too late.

The reminder refueled the anger and frustration that had brought her here. She could do this. There were worse things than being embarrassed.

Much worse things.

She wet parched lips with the tip of her tongue as she drew nearer to the back corner. She kept her gaze fixed on Corey Wachawski’s massive shoulders, focusing on them as she drew closer and closer…

Suddenly, her view was obstructed by one of the sharks.

Oh darn.

How had she not factored in the sharks? That was how her female colleagues, who often stopped in at the Sovereign on their way home from a hard day at school and who’d recently begun dragging Erica with them, referred to the beautiful, sexily clad women who routinely circled the group of handsome firemen. Hunting them like sharks on the lookout for their next meal.

Not that Griff, for one, seemed to mind being fish food. He’d left the pub with two of those women only a few weeks ago.

Two.

It was the event that had made Erica start thinking about threesomes. What was good for the goose had to be allowed for the gander, too. It was only feminist, and her Aunt Claire had raised her to be an independent woman, aware of her rights and willing to fight for them.

That was all well and good, until you had to battle a woman who looked like Miranda Kerr on a good hair day.

Erica’s steps faltered. The very blood seemed to drain out of her as she watched the tall, willowy brunette slide her arms around Corey from behind and whisper something in his ear. Whatever she said made Corey blush. The shark was stunning, flawless in looks and manner. And Erica stood there gasping, as graceful as a flounder that had been washed up on shore.

From the corner of her eye, Erica saw a couple work their way out of a booth in the corner. She made a dash for it, sliding into one of the olive-green vinyl bench seats before anyone else could claim the table. She hoped it looked natural, more natural than turning around and walking straight back out. Like her intent all along had been to find a table to herself and sit quietly.

Without a drink.

Dear Lord, she must look like an idiot.

Perhaps there was something worse than facing your most frightening demons. Being completely and utterly humiliated first.

 

Corey Wachawski watched as the woman of his dreams took a book out of her large black shoulder bag, opened it to a dog-eared page and began to read. It was a big book, the kind he’d never get through if he had a year to kill, which only reminded Corey how out of his league the pretty redhead with the big brown eyes truly was.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us, Corey?” Madison purred the invitation into his ear while she stroked a fingernail up and down his forearm. “Vibe is the hottest club in the Valley right now. We’re going to have the best time.”

It was clear from her tone that the club wasn’t the only thing offering a good time. It would be easy enough to take Madison up on it, but Corey found girls like her a little intimidating—and a lot scary. He got the feeling if he went home with her he’d wake up naked, tied to a bed and minus the one credit card he owned. “No thanks. I’m going to have an early one tonight.”

Madison stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “They work you boys way too hard.”

Corey wasn’t about to tell her work had nothing to do with his refusal. He simply didn’t want to spend the night with Madison.

The woman he did want to spend some quality time with was sitting across the pub right now with her nose in a book, her sleek red hair sweeping down to conceal her face, as out of reach as the moon. She probably thought he was some kind of man-slut because every time she came in here some random woman slipped him her phone number, or even her panties. Jeez. What did girls think he was going to do with a pink satin G-string?

Madison finally gave up and left. Corey’s sigh of relief was audible and beside him Griff laughed. “That was piss weak.”

“She isn’t my type.”

Griff remarked with a lopsided smile, “With an ass like that she doesn’t need to be. Besides, you might as well dip your wick somewhere. You won’t do anything about the girls who are your type, either.”

Corey didn’t pretend ignorance. His gaze once again strayed to the corner booth and the woman sitting there. She wore an ordinary grey skirt, black heels and a plain white blouse, the collar trimmed in lace. Her haircut was of the sensible, I’m-not-the-type-to-primp variety, a chin-length bob that framed her high cheekbones and wide brown eyes. She exuded none of the glamour of a woman like Madison yet she fascinated Corey on a level that went beyond appearances. He wanted to get to know her better, had since the first time she’d come in a few months ago.

But the idea of approaching her made his palms sweat, so he’d settled for watching her from across the room, waiting for…something. A sign maybe. Some kind of magic that would make everything click into place.

He offered Griff his excuse. “She’s really into that book.”

“She’s alone. Nobody comes to a noisy pub to read. She’s probably dying for you to go over and talk to her, dickhead.” At Corey’s skeptical look, Griff insisted, “Look, she doesn’t even have a drink. Go buy her one before somebody else does.”

Corey scowled. “Who’s going to buy her a drink?”

“Maybe I will.”

Corey wouldn’t have been more surprised if Griff had punched him in the gut. “You wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“She’s not your type.”

Griff laughed. “And that means?”

Corey didn’t know how to express what he meant without dissing his friend’s usual taste in women. Eventually he settled for, “She’s delicate.”

Griff raised a brow. “I like delicate. I like soft women. Hell, I just like women. Matter of fact, I’m talking myself into it. I’m going over there.”

“No.” Corey stood at the same time Griff did. They met eye to eye, Griff’s hazel irises twinkling with amusement. Corey figured his own expression was less jovial. His voice came out sounding threatening, which surprised him more than it seemed to surprise Griff. “I mean it, Griff. Don’t you hit on her.”

“What’s to stop me?”

“The guy code,” Corey said. “I saw her first.”

Griff chuckled. “You’ve gotta actually do something about it in order to activate the guy code. Sitting here with your thumb up your ass does not constitute staking a claim, so stand back and start taking notes. I’m about to show you what a move is.”

Griff strode past him with ease. Corey was bigger physically but Griff was more brazen. Corey knew the second Griff introduced himself to the mystery woman his own chances would be all shot to hell. Females usually proved susceptible to Griff’s particular type of brash charm. And if Griff found out her name first, he’d probably insist the guy-code privileges reverted to him or something like that. Griff would find a way to get what he wanted. He always did.

Damn it. It was do-or-die time. Corey had to get over to that booth before Griff or he was going to lose his fantasy woman before he ever caught her.

 

“White wine and two beers—one light.” Griff flashed the blonde bartender the grin that usually procured good service. “Take your time.”

The woman returned his smile and gave him a quick once-over before moving off to fill his order. Griff returned the compliment, admiring the way the mounds of her ass were accentuated by the tight black pants she wore. Nice, but for some reason she didn’t stir his blood.

What did, however, was something, someone—okay, two someones—he was going to have to stay away from.

Griff slid a glance over to the corner booth. Corey stood beside the table offering his hand to introduce himself. He had finally gotten up the balls to approach Red, and all he’d needed was a mighty shove in that direction. Griff had never intended to make a serious play for his friend’s fantasy woman, but something had to be done. Griff couldn’t go through another night watching those two making hopeless goo-goo eyes at each other.

“There you go.” Griff turned back and took the change the bartender offered. He noticed the little slip of paper with a phone number written on it amongst the coins, and stuffed it all in the front pocket of his jeans. The woman held his gaze with blue eyes that sparkled flirtatiously. “My name’s Michelle, by the way.”

“I’ll be sure to remember it.” Griff winked and took his drinks, mentally putting Michelle in themaybe later column. She was definitely cute, and would no doubt make a fine Miss Right Now. But if things went south she had the power to do all manner of unhygienic things to his drinks, so Griff wasn’t sure he should risk it. Switching his regular watering hole would be a bitch.

As Griff approached the booth, he let his gaze linger on the woman opposite his friend. She had a playboy bunny’s body underneath those drab clothes. The fact that she didn’t go out of her way to accentuate her obvious assets only made her more intriguing, like a wicked tease to Griff’s vivid imagination. She might not be Griff’s usual type, but damn could he have some fun with her.

Corey’s crush, Griff. Corey’s crush.

“Drinks all round,” Griff announced and slid the beverages on the table between them. “White wine’s your poison, isn’t it?”

Red blinked at him, clearly surprised that he knew. Could she guess that Corey wasn’t the only one who’d watched her with no small amount of interest over the past few months? Sure as bears shit in the woods, any guy with a dick was going to notice a rack like that, no matter how well it was concealed by a lace-trimmed blouse. Griff had simply been better at hiding his interest.

Until now.

Up close she wasn’t merely pretty, as he’d judged her. She was beautiful in a manner that was soft, classic, like a fifties ingénue, with a body made for every modern-day sin Griff could imagine. And there were a lot of those. The way her mouth hung open in surprise had Griff’s mind instantly turning down Bawdy Street. He saw the pink, wet flesh of her tongue resting beyond the plump outline of her lightly glossed lips and was filled with a raw, powerful need to suck it into his mouth.

“This is Erica—Erica Shannon.”

Corey introduced them before Griff could make the hasty retreat he suddenly realized he needed to. She held out her hand, compelling Griff to take it. Her fingers slid into his, brushing against the flesh of his palm. “It’s nice to meet you.”

That whisper of contact electrified him, made him suck in a harsh breath. He swelled in his jeans, imagining that breathy voice rasping naughty nothings in his ear, picturing that lush mouth working its way over his chest and lower.

Oh crap. This has gotta mean trouble.

Griff couldn’t very well walk around the pub in his suddenly uncomfortable condition. He hastily grabbed an unused chair from a table nearby, flipped it around and straddled it so neither Erica nor Corey could guess what had happened. He’d stay for a few minutes—one drink. He’d get himself under control, then he’d skedaddle and leave the lovebirds alone.

“Call me Griff,” he managed to choke out. “Everyone does.”

“I know.”

She blushed and ducked her head, as though she’d just revealed a closely guarded secret. Realization stole through Griff—or was it wishful thinking? Either way he was beginning to wonder if Corey was the only one Erica Shannon had been studying these past few months.

The very possibility made his physical situation a whole lot worse, but he tried not to get ahead of himself. Erica did not look like the threesome type—and Griff could usually pick the type. He was pretty damn sure Corey had never even thought of doing anything like it—more’s the pity. Straight down the line and unfailingly traditional, that was Corey. Griff’s own preference for multiple-partner playtime was probably coloring his thoughts.

But a few minutes later, Griff looked over to find Erica eyeing him through her lashes, flicking him brief glances even as she appeared enthralled by Corey’s small talk. In those moments Griff saw something fiery and reckless in her eyes, something that hinted at heat beneath the ice, wildness beneath the conservative exterior. That something called to him like a siren song, compelling him to keep turning the wicked ideas around in his head, no matter how he might be twisting things in his mind to suit his own tastes.

No matter how unlikely it was that Corey would agree to share the woman he was infatuated with.

Saturday Snippet

It’s the end of the month! That magical time when we get to “Say Anything!” Today’s snippet is from Tequila Truth.

Snippet:

“What is your ultimate sex fantasy?” Heath filled the shot glasses with Jose Cuervo.

Colt grinned while Kylie groaned. “Christ. Surely we’ve answered that one before?” She knew they hadn’t, but this particular question made her uncomfortable. Quite frankly, she didn’t think her two testosterone-laden buddies were ready to hear about her fantasies. They believed her desires to be somewhat chaste. Silly men.

The trio had been following this same tradition since the early days of their friendship. Kylie initiated the celebration, calling it Tequila Truth, explaining that birthdays should be a time of reflection. The concept of the game was simple. The birthday boy—or girl in her case—posed a question and then each member drank a shot of tequila and answered. The only rule was the answer had to be completely honest.

Unfortunately, her attempt to bring deep introspection to her male roommates fell quite a bit short of the mark. They’d played the game since their freshman year of college and Heath’s questions always revolved around sex.

“That’s an easy one.” Colt licked the salt off his hand, downed the tequila and sucked the lime. Licking his lips, he settled in for a long story. He was nothing if not an imaginative storyteller. “I’ve got this busty blonde all to myself on a desert island. We’re stranded and she’s completely at my mercy. Begging me to save her and all that crap. She’s wearing nothing but a bikini top and thong, as all of her clothes were ripped off during the shipwreck.”

Kylie interrupted at this point. “Holy hell, Colt. Why do these imaginary women of yours always have to be blonde and stupid?”

Heath and Colt laughed, but she merely raised her eyebrow, waiting for his response.

Colt stopped laughing when she failed to join in. “Oh, that was a serious question? I thought it was one of those rhetorical ones.”

She grinned despite herself. Colt was the ultimate male chauvinist pig and, for some inexplicable reason, she adored him anyway. He and Heath were the best friends she’d ever had and she didn’t doubt both of them would lay down their lives for her. They’d mistaken her for a male—Kyle, not Kylie—when she wrote expressing a desire to share an apartment with them during their first year of college.

“So what are you doing to this blonde with questionable intellect?” Heath, as always, was relishing Colt’s detailed descriptions.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this about me or not, but I’m a man who likes to be in control.”

She gasped, as if amazed, and laid her hand on her heart. “No, absolutely not. I will never believe that of you.”

He grinned at her sarcasm and continued. “There’s some rope that’s washed up from the shipwreck and this chick is hot for me. I mean way hot. She starts begging me to take her.”

At this point in his story Kylie faked a bored yawn, but he continued anyway. “I grab the rope and take her over to a coconut tree. I throw the rope over one of the low-lying branches and tie her hands above her head.”

“Have you ever seen a coconut tree?” she asked. “The branches are miles off the ground.”

“Shit, it doesn’t matter what kind of tree. Kylie, will you let me finish?”

“Fine,” she answered shortly, pressing her thighs together. The problem with his fantasy was she knew exactly where it was going and she would be hard-pressed to hide her reaction. The idea of being tied up and left completely at a man’s mercy was certainly pretty high on her list of fantasies as well. Definitely in the top five.

“So I tie her to the tree with her hands above her head. She’s helpless that way and her whole body is mine to explore and possess. I pull the thong down her legs and throw it into the sea. I tell her on this island, she’ll always be naked, that she will never hide her body from me. I can tell she likes the way I’m talking to her, all stern and powerful and shit, because she starts squirming and whimpering.”

Kylie struggled to stop reacting in completely the same way.

“I tell her to open her legs and she does. When I touch her, the woman is dripping wet and hotter than hell. I nearly come in my pants right there because I want her so bad. I reach into the back pocket of my ripped-up shorts and pull out a knife.”

He paused briefly and looked at her. No doubt he expected her to make some smartass comment about the convenience of having a knife, but she was struggling to catch her breath, overwhelmed by her own arousal.

Colt, satisfied with her silence, continued talking. “I use the knife to cut off her bikini top and I have to step away because I’m telling you this girl is stacked, with a capital S. She’s got these enormous big brown nipples and they are pointing straight at me.”

He continued describing the woman’s body in detail until finally she cried, “Enough. I think we get the picture.”

“I’m not sure I do,” Heath joked and she sent him a nasty look. “Maybe visuals would help. I’ve got some dirty magazines in my closet leftover from high school days. We could find a model who fits your description.”

“Can I help it if I’m a breast man?” Colt asked the question with a look of injured innocence that fooled her not one bit.

“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” she asked and then lifted her hand in a gesture that said continue.

“Well, I was going to go in to detail about how I suck the life out of those babies, but I can skip ahead. You get the picture.”

“Hell yeah, I do. This fantasy is a thing of beauty.” Heath sighed with appreciation apparently enjoying Colt’s answer to his question.

“So once we’re both good and hot, I take off my shorts and tell her to wrap her legs around my waist. She’s holding on to the rope around her wrists and this woman is strong. She uses her toned legs and arms to fuck the hell out of my cock while she’s hanging there naked from the tree. She’s driving her cunt down on me hard and it’s all I can do to hold on to her hips.”

She swallowed hard as she imagined the woman riding him. Problem was the blonde wasn’t a blonde, but a redhead who looked suspiciously like her.

Heath adjusted his pants under the table without bothering to hide his arousal. If there was one thing she had gotten used to in seven years of living with these men, it was that they were always functioning at half-mast. Shit, a strong breeze could arouse her roommates—she never ceased to be amazed by their intense sexuality. Over the years, she’d watched the revolving door of women who passed in and out of their lives and she’d heard enough moaning and banging headboards through the walls to last her a lifetime.

She consoled herself with the thought that through it all, she was the one constant woman in Colt and Heath’s lives. Through college graduation and first jobs, broken hearts and promotions, she was the steady one, the reliable one, their buddy with boobs.

“That was hot, Colt, but not as hot as mine.” Heath poured another round of shots.

“So hit us with your best shot.” Colt picked up his tequila, clearly enjoying his pun and ready to continue with the drinking part of the celebration.

Heath drank his tequila shot and leaned forward. “In my fantasy, I’ve got this smokin’ hot babe spread across my lap and I’m spanking her full, firm ass. It’s flushed red with my handprint and she’s moving into my smacks while her arousal is dripping down her legs. She’s begging me for more and I’m giving it to her. Then she starts pleading for my hard cock. When I think she’s been punished enough, I push her down to the floor and tell her get on her hands and knees. Then I fuck her from behind, hard and fast. She’s so hot she’s burning the flesh off me, but I don’t care. I keep pounding into her tight cunt, while she’s crying and screaming for more.”

She sat motionless after his fantasy for several moments before she realized her mouth was gaping and she closed it.

Colt shook his head in obvious disgust. “That’s the problem with you, Heath. No foreplay. That was the worst description of a fantasy I’ve ever heard. You don’t build the scene or give good descriptions. You just go straight to the climax, so to speak.” When he finished chuckling about his second pun, he pushed her shot glass closer to her. “So what about you, little darlin’?”

Taking a deep breath, she licked the salt, swallowed the burning alcohol and skipped the lime. Before she could think about it, she heard her unspoken dream falling out of her mouth.

“In my ultimate sex fantasy, two guys are taking me the way you both described…at the same time.”

Tequila Truth is available at Samhain, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony, All Romance Ebooks, and Fictionwise.

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Jody Wallace

Five for Friday

How about five more pages? Feeling like a bit of a historical? How about time travel? How about both?! Today’s story is No Recourse.

Prologue

The piercing pain in her chest grew worse, but she couldn’t stop running. A flash of lightning split the darkness once again, temporarily blinding her. Thunder roared in her ears and her racing heart felt as if it would burst. Again, the pounding of the horse’s hooves beat the dirt path behind her. Closer this time. He was closer. A high-pitched scream ahead in the distance, just beyond her in the mist. “Erin!” she yelled. “I’m coming.”

The cramps in her legs intensified and she stumbled over a rock in the path, but caught herself before she fell. She could not keep up this insane pace much longer. She had to get to Erin before the dark man on the horse caught her again. More lightning, another crash of thunder. Blinded by the rain, she stumbled through the brambles. The wind howled as she struggled forward against its gale force. “Aaaa!” she cried as she tripped over a tree root. Another faraway scream, another flash of lightning.

Dragging herself back up, she felt the hot breath of the horse against the back of her neck, two callused hands lifted her up through the air. Out of time–he’d caught her again, the sound of familiar laughter beside her now. Another scream–farther away this time–barely perceptible. She’d failed again. “Erin!” She kicked out with all her might. “Erin!”

The man beside her laughed harshly, whispering in her ear, familiar, terrifying words. One last scream–this time coming from her own lips, trying to drown his words, his laughter. The rough hands began to shake her. Shaking her so hard her teeth rattled. Fight back, she thought, fight back.

Chapter One

June 2008

“Hayley, wake up! Wake up!” Hayley opened her eyes adjusting her vision to the dark room. Bright light from the hallway poured in from the open doorway and she felt disoriented.

“Tori?”

“Yes. God, Hayley. Wake up!” She shook slightly as her friend patted her hair and murmured comforting words. “You’re awake now. You’re safe.”

Hayley sat still for several moments, silently willing the trembling to stop. She hated the look of absolute panic on Tori’s face. “I’m okay. Really.”

“That was a hell of a nightmare. I heard you all the way down the hall.”

Hayley shrugged nonchalantly though her hands shook as she tried to untangle herself from the sweat-soaked sheets.

“I thought you said you didn’t have nightmares anymore. How long have you been having these?”

“Awhile…just since she disappeared,” Hayley whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Tori looked unconvinced. “You need to talk to someone about them. It’s not good for you to have such violent dreams. You know, I bet my mother knows someone who could help you.”

“A shrink?” She felt calmer and her wits were returning to her. “No, thanks, I don’t think a psychiatrist is going to be able to do anything about a silly nightmare. Besides, I tried it before, remember?”

Tori crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows angrily. “Two months, Hayley. You tried it for a total of two months and then you quit when some progress was being made.”

“She was a hack and it was a waste of money. I work hard for my paycheck and I resented giving it to her so she could blame all my problems on Marian. It’s just being here, Tori. It brings everything back.” At Tori’s incredulous look, she deepened her lie. “I’m fine at home.”

“Right, you don’t have these dreams anywhere but here?”

“No, well, maybe a couple of times right after I went home last summer, but not since then.” She hoped her light tone made her lie more convincing. Truth was she had endured bad dreams since she was a child, but the nightmares had become more frequent and frightening since last June. A year. She still couldn’t believe it had been one year. She’d spent the last twelve months in a fog, simply going through the motions of living.

Tomorrow was her best friend Erin’s birthday. It was also one year to the day since Erin had mysteriously disappeared without a trace. The June girls were together again for the summer, minus one very special member. Erin, Hayley and Tori had spent every summer together since they were ten years old. The first ten summers were spent at Camp Spring Rock, then last year here at Tori’s family estate, Fernwood Grange in Dover, England. They had penned themselves the June girls during their first summer at camp as all three of them had June birthdays and they had remained friends through the best and worst times of their lives.

Hayley was spending a couple of weeks at Fernwood Grange with Tori. It was only her second vacation since beginning her job as a counselor in a women’s abuse shelter in St. Louis two years earlier. Tori, an elementary school librarian, was spending her entire summer break at the Grange and Erin, until her disappearance, had traveled the United States with her band Delancy’s Dreamers.

Tori disrupted her thoughts. “We should have gone somewhere else this summer.”

Hayley reached for her friend’s hands. “No, Tori. I wanted to come back, to spend time with you. Besides I’ve been thinking that perhaps time and distance may help us solve this mystery. There are some things about last year that have been bothering me and I thought we could run down some of the leads that weren’t fully explored.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tori yelled. “Dammit Hayley. I didn’t come back here to start the search up again. There are no leads to track down.”

“I’m just not sure the detectives followed up as much as they should have.”

“Will you just stop it, Hayley? She’s gone. Erin is gone. I thought coming here might help us heal.”

“Heal?”

“Yes, heal, let go of the past, move on. I know those are pretty radical concepts, but they’re something you might want to try sometime.”

Hayley felt her friend’s words like a blow to the chest. She knew she had a tendency to carry around her ancient history like well-worn luggage, but Tori, of all people, should understand why she did so.

“I–I don’t think I can–”

“Aw hell, Hayley. I’m sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but dammit, I can’t drudge all of this up again. We have to get past it. We were both in such a daze at the end of last summer. I haven’t been back to this house myself since then. Despite my mother’s nagging, I spent Christmas with my cousins in Liverpool. I didn’t think I could face the demons here without you.” Tori’s voice broke. “I came back, hoping we could find closure. I miss her so much.”

Hayley reached for her friend, holding her as Tori cried. She didn’t think this trip would help either one of them. They were ghosts of their former selves and although she found solace with her friend, it wasn’t enough to counteract the guilt and pain she felt over losing Erin.

As Tori quietly cried, Hayley realized she hadn’t cried since Erin’s disappearance–not once. Instead, she lived in a hollow cocoon, feeling cold and empty all the time. Her childhood with a tyrant father taught her from an early age that emotions showed weakness and–having learned that lesson the hard way many times–she refused to be weak.

Gradually, Tori regained control of her emotions and looked up guiltily. “You had the nightmare and I’m the one who’s falling apart. Isn’t that always the way? Erin was so much a part of us. This last year it’s felt like we were missing a limb, but we’ve gone on. We’ve both been successful in our jobs and we have each other. There are still good times to be had and I really don’t think Erin would want us to wallow in self-pity and misery. Remember the time Tuck Mathews fell into the lake?”

“As I recall, he didn’t fall in. Erin pushed him.” Hayley laughed at the memory.

For the next hour, the two friends reminisced, sharing laughter and tears as they talked about the wild adventures of the June girls at camp.

Finally, Hayley said the words that never completely left her consciousness. “The worst thing is not knowing.”

Tori nodded, clearly understanding what she meant.

“I think that’s what hurts the most. It drives me crazy sometimes, Tori. Just wondering, never knowing for sure she won’t walk through that door any minute with some crazy tale of her lost year.”

“Wouldn’t that be great?” Tori said. “Actually, I think deep down inside, I hoped we would come back and find her here. Isn’t that silly?”

“No, it’s not silly.”

“Sometimes, these past few days, I’ve actually felt like she was here.” Tori shivered. “Maybe I need to see the shrink?”

“No, I’ve felt her too. I thought it was just me.”

Neither of them spoke for several minutes as they considered what it might mean to feel Erin’s presence–her spirit in the house–until Tori, shaking off thoughts of her friend’s possible death, stood quickly. “That’s it. I’m for bed again.”

“Me too. Rough day tomorrow. Her twenty-third birthday.”

Tori paused in the doorway. “Tonight helped, I think. I’m stronger with you, Hayley. Sweet dreams?”

“Tonight helped,” she repeated. “Sweet dreams.”

She listened as Tori returned to her room, then got out of bed and crossed to the window seat. Curling up on the blue brocade cushion, she felt bad for lying to her friend about the nightmares. Erin and Tori were her best and only friends. After her mother, Marian divorced her alcoholic father, she and Hayley moved frequently from one run-down apartment to another, usually trying to escape bill collectors or the latest in a long line of Marian’s seedy boyfriends.

Because of the instability of her home life, Hayley became a loner. Growing up, she watched her mother cower under the demands of her abusive father and then a string of other unsavory men. Determined not to be like Marian, she had difficulty fitting in. She was strong-willed, with a quick temper and an independent streak a mile wide. Her tendency to speak her mind tended to make others uncomfortable and she had never trusted anyone until she met the June girls.

Tori and Erin were loners as well, although for different reasons. Erin’s isolation was the result of lifestyle, not choice. She was an only child traveling with her father and a folk music band comprised entirely of adults. Despite the lack of other children to play with, she was vivacious, beautiful and made friends easily. Tori lived a life of privilege with wealthy parents. The problem was they were both extremely successful workaholics, who left the rearing of their only daughter to a string of nannies.

Shaking herself back to the present, she decided sleep was beyond her. Looking around the room, she decided to read the romance novel Tori had loaned her earlier that afternoon.

No Recourse is available at , Amazon, Fictionwise, Barnes and Noble, and All Romance Ebooks.

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Saturday Snippet

“Lean on Me, when you’re not strong…” I love stories with characters you know you can count on, heroes who’ll never let you down and heroines you’d want to be friends with in real life. Today we’re sharing snippets that show sometimes the romance isn’t in the sex, it’s in the emotional support. Today’s snippet is from Sweet Thursday.

Snippet:

Justin’s entire demeanor screamed of a cocky nature, but she knew there was more to the man than the smartass he loved to portray. She’d seen his true colors the day they’d buried Killian’s mom. Sunday Collins had passed away after suffering from a long bout of cancer during their sophomore year.

Killian had been strong throughout the funeral service, standing stoically next to Tristan and his pop as her coffin was lowered into the ground. It was the first funeral Lily had ever attended and she still remembered how much she’d physically hurt, watching Killian’s face as he said goodbye to his mother.

Justin stood beside her and she hadn’t realized until the service was over that he’d been holding her hand the entire time. As the crowd dispersed and the family began to walk to their cars, they hung back with Killian…

 

Lily looked around the cemetery, searching for some words of comfort to offer. She didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure she could speak through the painful lump in her throat.

“My mom took off when I was three.” Lily looked up, surprised by Justin’s words. “I don’t really remember her…and you know my dad. Conversation isn’t exactly his thing. The first time I met your mom was after Little League practice. Sixth grade. She’d made us all chocolate chip cookies. Best fucking cookies I ever had.”

Killian nodded and Lily watched him covertly wipe away a tear.

“A bunch of the parents were standing around. My dad was late coming to pick me up—as usual. Somebody asked where my mother was.”

Killian grinned sadly. “You said aliens abducted her.”

Justin laughed, though it certainly wasn’t a happy sound. “Always was a little bastard. After that, your mom sort of claimed me. It was her voice I heard yelling my name from the stands. She baked me a cake on my thirteenth birthday—first cake that had my name on it and wasn’t made by the grocery store. Whenever I smart-mouthed somebody, she set me straight in that calm, sweet voice that made me wanna fall on my knees and promise never to be bad again as long as I lived.”

Killian laughed. “Discipline by guilt, my sisters call it.”

“Yeah. Well, it worked on me and whenever I did something good in school, she made me some of those cookies. I didn’t know my mom, Killian, but I’m sure as hell glad I knew yours.”

 

Justin had known exactly the right words, and it was in that precise moment Lily had given a piece of her heart to him as well. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She hadn’t expected the memories of her friends to be so potent, so strong after all these years.

Sweet Thursday is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony, Kobo and All Romance Ebooks.

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Five for Friday

It’s time for five more pages. Today’s featured story is Sugar and Spice.

Chapter One

“Hey there, baby. What do you have sweet in those drawers for me today?”

Ginny Brooks narrowed her eyes. “I told you yesterday to stay out of my candy stash. You ate the last of the Tootsie Rolls and I really need a Tootsie Roll today.”

“Yikes. That time of the month, Brooks?” Travers joked as he pulled open the top drawer of her desk.

“Get bent.” She slapped his hand away before he could grab the last of the SweeTarts.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Travers asked as Charlie Anderson came out of his office.

As office manager for her rag-tag bunch of engineers and best friends, Ginny and her desk were situated in the main entryway and surrounded by the three partners’ offices. She was used to having no privacy.

She was also accustomed to the way none of them used first names with each other—only last names. Travers had insisted that the others start calling him by his last name in sixth grade since there was another Ryan in their class and he refused to be referred to as Ryan T. Ginny couldn’t for the life of her figure out why that request had boomeranged back on the rest of them as well. Nonetheless, she’d been Brooks for nearly two decades. Hell, even her parents called her Brooks.

She spent her days working at Travers, Taylor and Anderson Engineering, or as Ginny liked to tease them, the T and A firm. At the moment, she was wondering why she’d ever thought it would be a good idea to work with friends.

“She just got the brush-off call from her boyfriend,”Andersonanswered before she could say a word in response to Travers’ obnoxious comment.

“The lawyer?” Travers asked and Anderson nodded. “Fucking bastard. I’m glad he dumped you. You don’t wanna date lawyers. They’re slimeballs.”

“Just once, do you guys think you could mind your own business?”

Anderson chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She leaned her head back against her office chair and sighed heavily. “I really need some chocolate.”

“Shit, Brooks. Don’t you have any in your secret stash? That’s why I came out here.”Anderson frowned.

“Don’t blame me,” she replied. “Travers polished off nearly half a bag of Tootsie Rolls yesterday.”

Anderson turned his narrowed gaze to his partner and she smirked at Travers.

“Snitch,” Travers snarled at her. “It’s your damn fault for keeping that candy in the office. It just tempts me. You know I’ve got a sweet tooth.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Oh that’s right. It’s my fault you’re a pig. I should have realized. I apologize. From now on, I’ll keep the candy hidden in my car.”

“Don’t you dare!”Anderson barked.

“Don’t you dare what?” Alex Taylor asked, coming out of his office no doubt to investigate the commotion.

Ginny rolled her eyes in frustration. How these men ever got any work done was beyond her. They were nosier than a pack of old women.

“Brooks is threatening to cut off the sweets supply.”

“Don’t you dare!”Taylor yelled, adding his two cents’ worth on the subject.

Ginny ignored him and decided she’d better nip the boyfriend misinformation in the bud. “And for your information, I didn’t get dumped. Liam was assigned a big case and he has to work through the weekend. That’s all.”

“Weren’t you supposed to go out of town together this weekend?” Travers asked. “I thought you and the asshole lawyer were doing a romantic getaway for your birthday.”

“Well…” Ginny attempted to swallow down the lump of disappointment that had been lingering since Liam’s call half an hour earlier. “We’ll just have to reschedule, I suppose.”

Travers slammed his hand down on her cluttered desk. “Dammit, Brooks, we wanted to throw you a big party, but you said you wanted to go away for this stupid weekend with Mr. Shit-for-Brains.”

“You know, Travers. He has a name. It’s Liam. Would you mind trying to refer to him as such?” Ginny was used to Travers insulting all her boyfriends and usually it didn’t bother her. In fact, most of the time she thought it was sort of funny. However, today she wasn’t in the mood.

“Well, this is just great,”Anderson added, his voice laced with annoyance. “There’s no way Taylor and I would have made plans for this weekend if we’d known your boyfriend was going to be such a jerk.”

Ginny grinned. “That’s sweet, Anderson, but don’t worry about me. Believe me, turning thirty is nothing to celebrate.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Travers looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “We partied our asses off for my thirtieth.”

Giggling, Ginny shook her head. “Travers, I’m still hung over from your birthday party and that was six months ago.”

“Ah crap, Brooks,”Taylor said, interrupting her laughter. “We have to leave now or we’re going to miss our flight. You sure you don’t want us to cancel?”

“What?” Ginny teased. “And stand up the poor McDermont twins? No way, fellas. I’m not having that on my head. You two have been bragging about this debauched double date for weeks. Besides, I’m looking forward to hearing all the disgustingly dirty details on Monday. Go. Have fun and don’t behave yourselves. I’ll be fine.”

“’Course you will,” Travers chimed in. “I’m taking you out tonight.”

“Travers, you don’t have to—” she started.

“To the Way Down Under Club.”

“I mean, I’d really rather— What did you say?” Ginny looked up quickly, her heart suddenly racing with excitement. She’d been begging her friends to take her to the Way Down Under Club for months. It was a new, super-exclusive sex club and Ginny had been dying to see inside the place since its grand opening. Travers, Taylor and Anderson were all gold-card members—whatever that meant—but they’d been uncharacteristically close-mouthed about the place. Every time she’d tried to invite herself along on one of their visits to the club, she’d been shot down cold. They’d teased her, saying she was too pure or too innocent for the place.

Glancing around, Ginny could see Anderson and Taylor were shocked by Travers’ invitation as well.

“I accept!” she practically shouted before they could talk Travers into changing his mind.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at nine.” Travers gave her a heart-stopping grin that would have caused her to expire on the spot if years of friendship hadn’t left her immune to it.

Still afraid Travers would change his mind, Ginny hopped up from her desk and rushed over to Anderson and Taylor. “Have fun storming the castle, guys. I’ll see you on Monday,” she said as she hugged them both goodbye. “See you later, Travers.”

“Later, Brooks.”

Travers waved as Ginny practically sprinted for the door, still afraid her jokester friend would add a quick “just kidding” to the invite and leave her all alone on her birthday. As she heard the office door close behind her without a peep passing from Travers’ lips, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she didn’t need chocolate after all.

* * * * *

As Ginny drove home, she was so excited she found it difficult to concentrate on the road. She couldn’t wait until tonight. It bugged her that her friends had always refused to take her to the Way Down Under Club. She’d grown accustomed to being a solid member of their group and their uncharacteristic adamance where the club was concerned had annoyed the hell out of her. Throughout their lives, they’d done everything together. Shared everything together. Everything.

She grinned to herself as she remembered her first kiss. Charlie Anderson, in typical fashion, had been fired up about what he’d deemed an emergency. All the sixth grade boys in their class had had their first kiss andAndersonwas worried about their gang of four being left behind…

 

“So thenTommy Elliot said he kissed her.” Twelve-year-old Charlie Anderson picked up a rock and threw it into the creek where he and his best friends were hanging out on a cool Saturday in May.

“Eww, gross! I wouldn’t kiss Charlotte Parkes,” Alex Taylor said.

“Well,Tommy isn’t the only boy who’s kissed a girl in our class,” Ryan Travers added. “Joel Madison has too.”

“You know, I don’t plan to be the only guy in sixth grade who hasn’t kissed a girl. Hey Brooks,”Anderson perked up as he looked at her, “you’re a girl.”

“So what?” Ginny asked belligerently. She took a step closer to Anderson, more than happy to use the fact that she was three inches taller than him to her benefit.

Andersonbacked down at her intimidating move, but Travers took up the dare with a grin. “So we could all kiss you.”

“You touch me and I’ll punch you in the gut,” Ginny threatened.

Travers laughed. “No you won’t. Come on, Brooks. Be a pal. I’ll give you my Spider-Man Nerf ball.”

Ginny’s eyes lit up at the offer. She loved Spider-Man more than anything. “You swear you’ll give it to me?”

“I swear,” Travers vowed.

“Well, okay. But just once each. This is gonna be so gross!”

Sugar and Spice is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance Ebooks, Kobo and Sony. It’s also available in print in Sugar and Spice, Everything Nice at Ellora’s Cave, Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

Want five more first pages? Check out these sites!

Jambrea Jo Jones

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Blog Hop

I’m participating in the Sweet, Sexy and Scorching blog hop this month! Check it out.

Misplaced Cowboy

Misplaced Cowboy is OUT TODAY! Woot Woot! It’s the companion story to Misplaced Princess. We’ve read about Annie’s adventures in Australia. Now it’s time to find out how Dylan, the stockman, fared in New York City.

Foreign Affairs, Book Two

Flying halfway ’round the world to meet his potential soul mate sounds like a fine idea to Dylan Sullivan—until he discovers said soul mate, Annie, has gone looking for him. In Australia. Now Dylan’s adrift, a bloke from the Outback alone in the bloody big city. Until he’s rescued by Monet, a gorgeous local artist…and Annie’s best friend.

A dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, Monet has never met anyone like Dylan. Taking temporary care of the sizzling-hot cowboy is easy; he’s friendly, funny and interesting. Keeping her hands off him is decidedly not easy. That horny accent, that killer grin…and as a successful artist, Monet is very much a hands-on sort of girl.

Dylan and Monet hold back until they learn Annie is engaged in her own foreign affair in Oz. Then all bets—and clothes—are off. But it can only be a fling. An Aussie cowboy doesn’t belong in New York any more than a city girl belongs in the Outback.

Now if only their hearts would listen.

Excerpt:

Monet Carmichael knew she shouldn’t be laughing. Nor smiling. The poor cowboy in front of her truly looked like the definition of confusion. But oh boy, what a beautiful definition it was. Okay, not so much that he was confused, but just the way he looked in general. His strong lips and chiseled bone structure, the perfect growth of honey-brown stubble on his jaw and chin, the hat.

Every inch of him screamed MAN. Virile, potent man.

Having grown up a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, Monet was experiencing her first in-the-flesh cowboy—and what a cowboy.

Stockman, Monnie. He’s a stockman.

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth again, the junction of her thighs doing a funky little twisty thing she enjoyed very much.

Man was correct. A beautiful man. A goddamn gorgeous, sexy man. Complete with a goddamn gorgeous body his faded jeans and well-worn flannel shirt couldn’t hide at all.

If it wasn’t for the fact he’d flown from Australia to meet her best friend, Monet could quite happily stand there and undress him with her eyes. Render him naked and imagine all the things a woman could do to a male body like—

She caught the wildly inappropriate thought before it could form a wildly inappropriate image in her wildly visual mind.

Just.

“Let me get this straight,” the Australian cowboy said, his light green stare doing all sorts of wicked things to Monet’s resolve. Even his eyelashes were perfect. She could imagine drawing each one in charcoal. Imagine even better the way they would feel against her lips as she—

“Annie flew to meet me in Australia yesterday, despite the fact I flew to the U.S. to meet her?”

Monet nodded. “You sent her an IM with flight details. Well, some flight details. The day, the airline, the arrival time. Although you were wrong by an hour on that last one. Her flight didn’t touch down in Sydney until—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The cowboy’s confused frown grew deeper, his Australian accent turning the word into a drawling song Monet found quite enjoyable to listen to. “I IM’ed her about a Qantas flight to New York. The one I was thinking of getting. And then the next day I emailed her the actual details of the flight I’d booked a seat on.”

Monet blinked. Annie hadn’t said anything about the email. In fact, Monet had been sitting right beside her best friend when she’d bought her airline ticket to Australia, a Qantas flight touching down in Sydney on the day her online Aussie cowboy…friend…had told her. Surely Annie would have known he was flying over here? How could they get their wires crossed so badly?

She opened her mouth—to say what to the man, she didn’t know. Damn, what was his name? Annie had said it enough times over the last few months, but Monet shut her mouth again when the doorman of their building suddenly appeared at the cowboy’s side.

“Everything okay, Ms. Carmichael?” Tommy’s gaze flicked back and forth between the Australian and Monet. “Mr. Sullivan’s not giving you—”

Dylan Sullivan!

The cowboy’s name popped into Monet’s head, along with an image of a clean-shaven man without a hat smiling somewhat nervously into a camera.

Monet shook her head, unable to take her gaze from Dylan’s still troubled face. “Everything’s fine, Tommy,” she assured him, even as she compared the beautiful hat-wearing male before her, his stubble as sexy as his accent, his accent as mesmerizing as his eyes, to the clean-cut man in the photo on Annie’s laptop.

“Are you sure?”

She flicked Dylan a quick look, her pulse beating far too fast for her peace of mind. “I’m sure.”

“’Cause he was asking about Ms. Prince—”

“It’s okay.” She cut him off with a smile. “I know Dylan. We were just going to catch a cab to the gallery.”

Dylan blinked.

“Oh.” Tommy nodded. “In that case…” He stepped one foot off the curb and let out a sharp whistle.

Before anyone could say a thing, a taxi pulled to a quick halt on the road beside them.

Monet gave the doorman another smile. “Thanks, Tommy.” She opened the back passenger door of the cab and extended an arm toward the grimy interior. “After you, Mr. Sullivan.”

The brim of his hat cast his eyes in shadow, and for a brief moment Monet thought he was going to refuse. And then he gave her a loose, lopsided grin that made her want to grin back. “I take it the lovers sit between us?”

She nodded. “The lovers do.”

“It’s probably better you climb in first then, love.”

Her pulse fluttered, and for the first time ever, Monet found herself totally flustered by a man. Love. Who would have thought she’d get excited over an almost antiquated term. She despised pet names—no babes or hons or sweethearts allowed, thank you very much. But the term “love” coming from Dylan’s lips…

Her reaction to it was unnerving. The whole situation was unnerving. Annie on the other side of the world. Dylan here in New York. Her unexpected response to the man.

She dove into the cab before Dylan Sullivan, her best friend’s would-be Aussie cowboy, could see the flush painting her cheeks pink.

Oh boy, this was…inconvenient.

Misplaced Cowboy is available at Ellora’s Cave, Amazon, and Barnes and Noble.