Lexxie Couper's Blog, page 18

MUST READ – Fix You by Mari Carr

My mum is a breast cancer survivor. Her courage and strength during her battle is awe-inspiring. And yet, it’s also terrifying. Especially when I look at my daughters and know they face a higher risk of getting breast cancer because of our family history. I read Mari Carr‘s Fix You last week (bought it the day it came out) and it is one of the most powerful, poignant, emotional romance stories that deals with breast cancer out there. Every woman should read this. Every woman.

Fix You is now. This is the first book in Mari Carr’s new Second Chances series.

What if love can’t heal all wounds?

Second Chances, Book 1

After too many years of secretly loving her best friend, Zoey realizes she’s been shortchanging herself. It’s time to take action. This New Year’s Eve heralds the year she’s going to tell Rob the truth. Even if he is on the road, reaching for musical stardom with his band.

Her plan is derailed when she discovers a lump in her breast—and it’s not “nothing to worry about”. How can she ask Rob to take a chance on love when her future is so uncertain?

Rob has spent his entire life chasing his dream, but the moment he hears Zoey’s voice on the phone, he realizes he’s been running the wrong race. Zoey never sounds like she’s been crying. Ever. Without a second thought, he books a flight for home, determined to give her everything she needs. A shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold…and nights of intensely emotional, passionate sex.

His biggest challenge, though, is convincing his best friend that he’s in it for the long haul. Because he finally knows what he wants, and it’s not fame and fortune. It’s her—and her love.

Warning: This book runs the emotional gamut between scorching-hot passion and the pain and fear associated with cancer. Keep a box of tissues next to your glass of ice water.

Excerpt:

Rob stared down at Zoey’s face as she slept. Her eyes were still puffy from last night’s tears. Neither of them had moved from the couch. Instead, he’d lain down next to her and held her as she silently wept. Pinpricks attacked the arm he’d wrapped around her, his hand numb from lying in the same position for so long. He didn’t bother to move. It felt too good holding her like this.

Some truths were crashing down on him. He’d been an ass, living his life like he had all the time in the world. Their time on this planet was far from infinite, and yet he’d squandered years of it, working on his career, focusing solely on making it big.

For what? Fame? Money? Why the hell did he need that shit?

He’d always taken it for granted that Zoey would be here for him. How the fuck was he supposed to go on without her? The moment she’d told him about the cancer, the light had gone on.

I’m in love with her. Christ. I’ve been in love with her since the first day I laid eyes on her.

Zoey stirred. Rob’s heart began to race as her eyes opened slowly. He wasn’t wasting a second more. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

She was disoriented for a moment before she lifted her gaze and smiled.

With his free hand, he stroked her face softly. “Zoey.” Her name fell from his lips on a hushed whisper, his chest constricting under the weight of every emotion under the sun—love, fear, happiness, panic, a raging case of nervousness.

What if she didn’t feel the same way?

“Yeah?”

He took a deep breath. Fear wasn’t going to hold him back another second longer. “I’m going to break my promise.”

“What promise?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he bent his head and kissed her. Time froze as their lips met. Rob was transported back to that day in the park, to the truth that should have been obvious all those years ago. He’d been a blind, inexperienced boy back then, but now…his eyes were wide open.

It was her. Zoey. For him, it had always been her.

The kiss was a gentle touch at first, but when Zoey’s lips softened and accepted his, he deepened it. Her small hand cupped his cheek, exploring his face hesitantly before growing bolder, stroking it.

The smell of cinnamon enveloped them, her candle still burning from the night before. He knew in his heart that from now on, that scent would always make him think of her. Of this moment.

His heart lodged in his throat when he realized the magnitude of what was happening, of what he wanted to happen next. He was kissing his best friend. And she was kissing him back.

Encouraged, he opened his mouth, stroking his tongue against hers. The kiss grew harder, hungrier. For several minutes—hell, it could have been hours for all Rob knew—they simply kissed, learning each other’s taste, texture. Her skin was soft beneath his fingers as he caressed her delicate cheek. Her breathing grew heavier, the heat of it warm against his skin.

When he finally moved away, she was there, looking at him, studying his face. Hers was the picture of confusion, wariness…and desire. He latched onto the last like a dying man clinging to life. She wanted him.

“Still weird?” He needed the joke, needed to get his bearings. His emotions were too raw, too new, too close to the surface.

She shook her head slowly. “No. Not even close.”

“Good. I’ve been practicing.”

She laughed uneasily. “You’re insane. What the hell prompted that?”

He knew her. Knew she’d try to twist this into something innocent, funny. He wouldn’t let her. He ran his hand through her dark hair, overwhelmed by the need to touch her. “Just figured it was past time. You mind if we talk about this after?”

“After what?”

He let his body answer the question. Turning so they lay face to face on the couch, he placed his lips back on hers. He didn’t want to push her. After all, she’d just received life-altering, horrible news. He’d keep things easy, let her set the pace.

She didn’t resist his kisses. Her hand traveled along his shoulders and down his arm before landing on his chest. Her lips pressed against his harder. Then she moved away, an infinitesimal distance.

“Touch me,” she whispered, her hand fisting in the cotton of his shirt.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands roamed along her sides, drifted beneath her T-shirt.

She shivered when he caressed the bare skin of her waist. He stoked her arousal, kissing her harder as he explored every bit of bare flesh he could reach beneath her shirt. He forced air into his lungs, fought to keep his hands steady as he touched her.

The slight tremor in his hands seemed to distract her. She was the first to pull back. “Robbie, are you sure—?”

“After,” he repeated. He gripped her hip, dragging her closer. There was no way she could misconstrue how far he’d go if she was willing. His cock was hard, ready.

She bit her lip and he could sense she was struggling to make a decision. He wouldn’t force her into anything she wasn’t ready for. Hell, he’d be perfectly content to spend the next dozen years or so simply kissing her. Making up for so many wasted years. “Zoey—”

She shook her head and closed her eyes, but not before he read the hungry need there. Then she lifted one leg and wrapped it around his thigh. She thrust closer. It was an outright invitation. “After,” she whispered, her voice steadier than he expected.

———————–

Fix You is available at:

Samhain,

Amazon &

Barnes & Noble

Counting Down to the End of Days

If you believe the Mayans, the end of the world is fast approaching. So what better way to count down than partying with International Heat.

Head over there now. Read the blog posts every day from now until Dec 22 (the day after the last day of civilastion if I’m not mistaken), join in the party and go in the draw to win lots and lots of prizes. Guest authors aplenty. You never know who will turn up to count down with us

MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT TIME: Dark Destiny and Dark Embrace

Heya Guys,

I’ve been AWOL for a bit I know. I was fighting in the depths of deadline hell working on something unlike I’ve ever written before (more on that later in the week. Promise). But I’m back with a MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT (just in case you didn’t figure that out with the headline *grin*)

Ready?

See them? Aren’t they stunning? Now, want me to tell you what they are?

Well, Dark Destiny was once Death, the Vamp and his Brother. It’s had a makeover. A BIG one. A new cover and a new title to show the world it’s the start of the new Principatus series.

Dark Destiny will be releasing March 19 next year. Yay. I can’t tell you how excited I am about this. It is my favourite paranormal story and, in its original form, won the 2009 Romance Studio’s Best Erotic Paranormal Romance Novel award. I can’t wait for the world to discover it (not many did when it was released as Death, the Vamp and his Brother I must admit).

Now, what is Dark Embrace?

Dark Embrace is the sorta kinda but not really sequel to Dark Destiny. You don’t need to have read Dark Destiny to enjoy Dark Embrace but it does make th experience more enjoyable. Dark Embrace sees a celebate succubus appointed by God to kill demons. And then she meets the vampire of her dreams and, well…take a look at the blurb.

Should she kill him? Seduce him? Or both?

Principatus, Book 2

As an ex-succubus granted her soul by the Highest of Powers, Inari Chayse has spent the twenty years since her “rebirth” channeling her voracious sexual energy into kicking the asses of all malevolent paranormal beings.

Torn between the sex demon she was and the demon assassin she has become, she has no intention of complicating her life further. But when the vampire who pleasures her dreams walks into her paranormal strip club—and takes complete, humiliating command of her body—complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Fifty years ago, Ezryn Navarr abdicated his trueborn throne to spare his people a bloody destruction. He never expected to find himself in a Sydney strip club, buried in the deliciously sensual body of the very divine assassin he’s been commanded to kill. The bigger surprise? Inari awakens something he thought long dead. His humanity.

As their tormented desires intertwine with a centuries-old battle of blood and power, redemption seems as unobtainable as love. The backlash will rock the entire vampire race, leading to their salvation…or their deaths.

Warning: Herein lie dark lusts, dark deeds, dark desires, no-holds-barred passion, an ass-kicking succubus and a vampire to make your blood burn…

Dark Embrace releases in April next year.

Tomorrow I’ll share an excerpt from both books. Make sure to come back and check them out.

There are at least two more Dark books coming: Dark Kiss and Dark Surrender (for those that HAVE read Death, the Vamp and his Brother – aka Dark Destiny – Dark Surrender is Ven’s long awaited book)

I’m still blown away by Samhain’s belief in me and this series and am so chuffed they are prepared to do something as amazing as this.

Lila Dubois’ Undone Diva

I love Lila Dubois’ work. Love it. The Undone series is one of the best BDSM series out there with the most sexy, gorgeous covers. Today, the last in the series releases.

Undone Diva, the final book in the  Undone Lovers series, is now available.

This story features Emory, who we first met in Undone Rebel. He’s a Dom with very specific, sexy tastes. This book is all about the sexy BDSM role play: prisoner and jailer, spy and interrogator, princess and pauper, princess and solider/guard, prince and pretty peasant.

According to Lila, Undone Diva is the first book she’s ever written with a Dom who also had a second major kink. Rather than simply doing scenes within the sphere of BDSM play Emory likes role play scenarios that provide opportunities for sexy BDSM play.

Here’s a little taste of how that goes:

“Tonight you will be my slave girl, purchased at auction.”

A shiver of intense pleasure racked her. “Yes, Sir.”

“Show me to your room and we’ll begin.”

Blindfolded, she knelt in a corner, waiting.

She’d chosen one of the guest bedrooms for their session. Because she never did scenes at her house, she didn’t have a dedicated space for BDSM play. Emory had approved the space, then removed his tie and blindfolded her with it. The brief glimpse she’d had of him with the tie off was enough to make her long to see him entirely suitless.

He’d left the room and she’d remained on her knees waiting. A syrupy calm engulfed her. Now she would get what she needed, what she craved, at the hands of a Dom both experienced and interesting. Lately when she’d been waiting for a scene to start there’d always been a bit of fear under the sub-space calm.

She knew what she was doing—flying all over the country to meet with men she’d spoken to online only a handful of times—was dangerous, and once she’d given up control all she had was her trust in them that they wouldn’t hurt or kill her. That level of fear detracted from the experience, not enhanced it, but was nothing compared to the fear she’d known in the past while submitting, and so it had never really bothered her.

With Emory that fear was gone. Though she’d never met him, he’d been in her life for over five years. He knew her, knew what she risked by seeking to fulfill her submissive needs.

The bedroom door opened, closed. There was a thump as he set something down then silence, broken only by the occasional sound of him moving about. Sasha breathed slowly and deeply, savoring the anticipation. Her skin tingled with the need for his touch.

“Sasha.”

She twisted her head side to side, trying to pinpoint where his voice had come from.

“Stand and remove your clothing.”

This is a hot one!

You can read more about Undone Diva by clicking the link.

First Five Pages – Blowing it Off

Five for Friday time. Let’s see what happens when two arson investigators seduce the woman of their dreams…a professional glass blower…

Chapter One

Morpeth, Australia

 

“You know they’re going to call the big guys in for this, don’t you?”

Sliding her fingers over the smooth, solid length gripped firmly in her left hand, Phoebe Masters flicked a sideward glance at the tall streak of stunning blondeness beside her and bit back a sigh. “I don’t want the big guys.”

The blonde—a.k.a. Sami Charlton, a.k.a. BFE (Best Friend Extraordinaire), a.k.a. Australia’s most successful female motocross rider—let out a chuckle. “I don’t think you’ll have a choice, Pheebster. Your studio’s been gutted. With a fire this bad you know they’re going to call in the investigation team. If Dad was alive he’d tell you the same thing.”

Phoebe’s stomach lurched and she ground her teeth. Damn it, when she’d up and moved from Newcastle to the utterly parochial, completely charming historical village of Morpeth six months ago, she’d planned to never see the investigation team again.

“And I don’t believe for a second that you don’t want to see them.”

Sami’s calm statement made Phoebe’s pulse pound just a little harder in her neck. She bit back another sigh. Here she was, standing in the smoking, charred remains of what was once her studio, the place she spent every day blowing molten glass into artworks of stunning beauty, with the acrid, wholly jarring stench of scorched wood and wet timber stinging her sinuses with every breath. Reminding her with no uncertainty that everything she held dear and valuable was destroyed—and she was thinking about Damon Hunt and William Bradley.

“I don’t want to see them,” she grumbled, glaring at the object she gripped in her hand, the only thing salvageable in the heartbreaking mess. A long, thick shard of glass that, thanks to the fire, now looked like a massive, slightly demented glass dildo.

“See who?”

The gruff male voice behind Phoebe made her jump, the glass length almost slipping from her fingers as she did so. She pulled a face, wrapping her fingers tighter around the accidental dildo like it was her one and only life preserver. “No one.”

“The investigation team from Newcastle,” Sami said to the elderly man now standing on Phoebe’s left. “This has to be arson. There’s no other explanation for such an accelerated burn of materials designed to withstand high temperatures, don’t you think?”

The old bloke’s wiry salt-and-pepper eyebrows rose up his creased forehead and he tugged at his somewhat scruffy firefighter’s uniform with calloused hands. “And what would you be knowin’ about arson and accelerated burn, missy?”

Phoebe let out the sigh she’d been holding back for the last five minutes or so. “Captain Kilgour,” she placed her fingers lightly on the prickly old firefighter’s arm, “this is my best friend, Sami. Sami’s dad was the commander of the Newcastle District Fire Investigation Unit.” She turned and gave Sami a pointed look. “Sami, this is Keith Kilgour, the captain of Morpeth’s fire brigade.”

Kilgour squinted at Sami. “Was?”

Sami nodded. “Was.”

Phoebe knew her best friend wasn’t going to expand on her answer. The death of her father in a house fire still hurt Sami deeply.

Kilgour’s eyes narrowed even farther before he returned his attention to Phoebe. “Well, much as I hate the idea of those upstart buggers from the city coming here and tellin’ me my business, the young missy is right. There’s somethin’ about the feel of the place I don’t like.” He sucked in his checks and smacked his lips. “It tastes wrong.”

Sami nodded. “Too bloody right.”

Phoebe frowned, ignoring the fluttering little knot in her belly at the “upstart buggers from the city” coming anywhere near her. “So what you’re telling me,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her breasts, “is I can’t start cleaning up until the investigation team—”

“William and Damon,” Sami interjected.

Phoebe gave her a scowl. Damn, she was one for providing details today. “Until the Newcastle team come up and—”

“Work their magic,” Sami finished for her, a grin playing with the corners of her lip-glossed mouth.

Phoebe scowled harder. Were it not for Captain Kilgour standing beside them, Sami would be finding herself the recipient of a bloody good punch to the arm. Work their magic? Under no circumstances were Will Bradley and Damon Hunt working any kind of magic on her again. Ever.

“That’s right, Ms. Masters,” Captain Kilgour agreed, giving Phoebe what she suspected was supposed to be a reassuring smile. “The Newcastle boys will need to take a look at this before you can touch it.”

Phoebe let out a shaky sigh. Damn it.

“I could take a look around, Dad.”

A younger version of Keith Kilgour, dressed in a pristine firefighter’s uniform that almost—almost—hid a paunch and narrow shoulders, sidled his way over the charred mess, giving Phoebe a wide smile as he plucked the glass shaft from her hands. Blue eyes tried hard to hold hers, the effort lost when Captain Kilgour barked out a laugh.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harvey. You barely passed the last fire science and behavior training course.”

Harvey Kilgour’s fleshy cheeks glowed red and Phoebe suppressed a need to shuffle her feet. Since moving to Morpeth, she’d more than once had to decline Harvey’s eager invitations to coffee, lunch, dinner, breakfast, a trip to the local drive-in. Six months of being “courted” by Harvey. And that was the word he used whenever he asked her out, courted, as if their relationship was anything more than determined suitor and non-interested recipient. Several rejections later and he still hadn’t taken the hint. Still, seeing him get shot down by his father was a touch uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that Harvey was grotesque or repulsive; he wasn’t. In fact, he seemed quite personable in a slightly desperate, puppy-dog kind of way. He was polite, charming, had an old-fashioned sense of propriety and an almost boyish innocence about him. He’d turned up with handpicked flowers a few times, had offered to fix anything in her home or studio if needed. When she’d come down with that very nasty dose of the flu, he’d arrived at her door with a steaming boiler of vegetable soup so bloody delicious, it was all she could do not to run her fingers around the inside of the pot when it was all gone. Soup he’d made. How could she say no to a guy like that?

How indeed? But she had. Often.

For reasons she couldn’t put her finger on, something in her belly told her to stay away from Harvey—or at least keep him at arms’ length. Something that made her feel…unsettled.

What? More unsettled than the way Damon Hunt and William Bradley make you feel? Is that even possible?

Yeah, but that unsettled had nothing to do with an inexplicable discomfort and everything to do with two tall, dark, sarcastic and alpha-to-the-extreme men awakening sexual longings she couldn’t deny no matter how hard she tried.

A shiver rippled up her spine and before she could shut it out, a flash of memory blinded her…

William’s towering form, buck naked and completely aroused, his dark blond hair a tousled mess, his eyes glinting with hunger as Damon impaled her on his equally impressive cock. Damon’s full lips traveling over her throat, his strong hands squeezing her backside, her moans of rapture a familiar soundtrack to a weekend spent—

“Better go write the report—”

“Can I walk you to the—”

“Time I hit the road—”

Phoebe blinked, the cacophony of voices jerking her from the wholly unsettling memory. Her heart pounding too hard for her liking, she looked at Sami, for the moment needing to focus on one thing, one speaker—and her best friend was the least…vexing. “You’re going?”

Sami pulled a face. “Yeah, I know. I suck. But I have a photo shoot with Inside Motor-Sport magazine this afternoon and a meeting with my agent in less than three hours.”

Phoebe shot her watch a quick glance. With the way her best friend rode the classic Ducati she loved like a…well, a lover, Sami would make it back to Sydney with time to spare, as long as she wasn’t arrested for speeding.

“Okay,” Phoebe grumbled, turning completely to the Amazonian blonde to give her a hug. “Next time come up for longer than just a night.”

Sami squeezed her back. “Hey, if some prick hadn’t burned your studio down I’d be mooching off you for brekkie and you’d be wishing I’d hurry the hell up and go home.”

Phoebe chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Sami flashed the kind of grin that made her the darling of the motocross world—cheeky, sexy and very, very devilish. “Of course I am. Say g’day to Damon and Will for me.”

Phoebe’s belly flip-flopped. “Bugger off with you, Charlton.”

With another squeeze, this one a tad gentler, Sami turned on her heel and strode from the blackened mess of Phoebe’s studio, hips swaying. “Better still,” she tossed over her shoulder, swinging her helmet beside her leg like a schoolgirl swings her school bag, “give them both a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Captain Kilgour’s voice sounded mortified.

Phoebe bit back a sigh and, turning from the sight of her friend’s departing leather-clad form, gave the firefighter a placating smile. “She’s kidding.”

Harvey laughed, slapping his dad on the back. “Of course she is, Dad. Why would Phoebe want to kiss the arson investigators?”

***

Buy the ebook now from Ellora’s Cave, Amazon Kindle, Barnes and Noble.

Want more first five pages? Visit…

Mari Carr
Bianca D’Arc
Jambrea Jones
Rhian Cahill
Lila Dubois

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Use when required.

First Five Pages – Muscle for Hire

Five for Friday time. Today, it’s Muscle for Hire, the story of how Nick Blackthorne’s bodyguard ended up having his butt kicked by a fiesty American…while trying to protect her from a mysterious attacker no one buy Aslin believes in.

Chapter One

A wall of screaming, squealing, crying young women—and some not-so-young women—threw themselves at Aslin Rhodes. He wasn’t the object of their frenzied affection. That was for Chris Huntley, star of hit sitcom Twice Too Many and soon-to-be released action blockbuster, Dead Even. No, Aslin just happened to find himself between Chris and the wall of screaming, squealing, crying young and not-so-young women. Fifteen years working as the bodyguard of the world’s biggest rock star, however, had prepared Aslin for all kinds of insanity, and this was no exception.

He planted his size-fourteen booted feet firmly on the footpath and with his arms wide, jaw bunched and muscles coiled, held back the frenzied horde. Just.

Movie-star groupies were more maniacal than rock-star groupies it seemed. At least those currently here trying to get their mits on Chris Huntley were. And, Aslin discovered, they were more prone to biting.

“Oi!” He flinched as a set of teeth sank into his forearm and he snapped his glare to a girl who looked no more than twelve snarling up at him from near his elbow. “Watch it.”

“We’re trying to,” a middle-aged woman wearing a skin-tight Twice Too Many T-shirt snapped back, giving the teenager girl squashed between her and Aslin a shove. “But you’re in the road.”

Her fellow frenzied fans echoed her unhappiness with Aslin’s presence, most resorting to names and insults regarding his British nationality. He’d never heard the words “fucking Pom” uttered so often by so many women. If the situation wasn’t so surreal, he’d laugh.

“Seriously,” he called out, still holding back the wall of hormone-induced lust with sheer strength and a wide arm span. “What are the odds Chris Huntley is going to—”

A loud groan drowned out the rest of Aslin’s question. Almost as one, the women stopped pushing against him and fell back, their eyes swelling with tears, their expressions suicidal.

“He’s gone,” the woman in the Twice Too Many T-shirt moaned. Another collective sob sounded from the horde as surly glares turned to Aslin.

Aslin did his own turning, shooting a look at the space behind him where Chris Huntley and Nigel McQueen, Dead Even’s famed director, had been sharing coffee. The harbour-side café was now empty of Hollywood-type persons, the normal run-of-the-mill patrons left behind smirking with bemused curiosity.

Aslin returned his focus to the women, only to find them dispersing on the esplanade. Most stared intently at their cameras and smartphones on which—Aslin assumed—hundred of hastily snapped images of Chris sipping his latte were now stored.

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. He’d never get his head around the unhinged mentality of a frenzied fan. Fifteen years protecting Nick Blackthorne hadn’t enlightened him, and he didn’t see this small job illuminating it either.

Maybe it’s time you went back into the service, boyo? HRH’s Defense Force would take you back in an instant.

A dull pressure settled on Aslin’s chest at the notion of returning to his post as a SAS Commando. He may not understand infatuated, borderline-loopy fans much, but he understood his country’s need to be involved in the war in Afghanistan less.

There was a reason he’d left the United Kingdom Special Forces to become professional muscle for a rock star. That surreal career made more sense than the orders constantly given to him during—

“Mr. Rhodes?”

A male voice called from behind Aslin and he turned, an instinctual tension coiling through his body. He didn’t like being caught unawares. It wasn’t something that happened often.

A non-descript blue SUV sat parked beside the café’s al fresco area, the rear passenger door open.

Aslin narrowed his eyes. That the SUV was there in the first place told him it wasn’t as unimportant as it appeared. The whole area facing the harbour where he now stood was strictly an esplanade—no cars allowed. Added to the situation was the fact Aslin was at the café in the first place to meet the director of the film, and he suspected he knew who the owner of the voice was. There weren’t that many men with American accents capable of flouting the laws in Sydney at the moment.

A soft snort sounded at the back of Aslin’s throat and he began walking toward the waiting vehicle.

Looks like your career in the movies is just about to begin, boyo.

Stopping at the open door, he looked into the cabin and lifted his eyebrows at the sight of Chris Huntley smiling back at him.

“Nick told me you were good at keeping back the masses.” The actor’s smile turned into a grin. “But I have to say, I’ve never seen just one man intimidate so many women all by himself.” Chris held out a hand as he shifted back deeper along the rear seat. “Nigel and I had planned to chat with you at the café, but…well, as you no doubt saw, it got a little crowded.”

Aslin gave the actor a slight nod. “I saw.”

Chris laughed. “Nick also told me you weren’t one for a lot of wasted words. I see he’s right.” He waved his hand at the empty seat beside him. “Would you like to get in? Nigel got called back to the set and I’m due back in an hour, but I really wanted to chat first.”

Aslin studied the man looking up at him from the SUV’s interior. He was young, handsome and openly friendly. A target for all sorts of deluded and hysterical fans, especially given the sexual potency Aslin had noticed oozed from him when on screen.

Are you thinking of a potential new boss?

Since Nick’s retirement from singing and his emersion in family life, Aslin had found himself at a loss for things to do. There was only so much a bodyguard could do in a small rural town in the Australian highlands, particularly when the rock star he guarded preferred to just hang out at home with his wife and son nowadays.

After a few months of watching Aslin attempt to find potential threats in the amiable citizens of Murriundah, Nick had finally rolled his eyes and told Aslin he had a job for him. Just a quick favour for a friend.

In Sydney.

On a film set.

Staring three big Hollywood actors.

“McQueen needs an advisor on all things menacing and commando, especially for Chris Huntley,” Nick had said to Aslin with a grin. “I can tell you’re bored out of your brain here, As. Get your arse to Sydney and be useful for a change, will you?”

And so here Aslin was now, ready to tell Hollywood—and an actor who so far hadn’t played a single action role—how to do it right.

“Nigel said he’d meet us back on set, “ Chris went on, his attention fixed on Aslin’s face, as if storing away all sorts of little details. “He’s getting his P.A. to arrange a trailer for you. It was meant to be ready now but apparently it’s got a faulty pilot light on the stove.” The actor shot a look at the empty seat at Aslin’s knees, an almost nervous tension pulling at his forehead. “If you’d rather meet us both back there…”

From the corner of his eye, Aslin caught movement and he straightened a little, enough to notice the red-headed woman in the Twice Too Many T-shirt taking photos of the SUV. She gave him a wide smile, her expression suddenly predatory and smug.

A pulse ticked in his neck. The woman had worked out her prey was in the car. It was time to get Chris out of there.

As a rule, Aslin didn’t get into a vehicle he wasn’t driving himself, but with Ms. Too-Tight T-shirt hurrying towards him and the SUV’s open door, he knew now wasn’t the time to discuss the chauffeur situation.

Bending at the waist, he ducked through the opening, climbed into the SUV and slammed the door behind him. He’d arrange for his motorbike to be delivered to the film set. Better to stay with Huntley now that a fan knew the vehicle the actor travelled in.

“Hello, Mr. Rhodes.” The same male voice that had called him earlier came from behind the driver’s wheel. Aslin lifted his focus to the rearview mirror, finding a set of black Ray-Bans looking back at him. “Welcome aboard. I’m Jeff Coulten.”

Aslin took in the broad width of the man’s shoulders and the smooth strength in his neck. “Bodyguard?”

Jeff laughed. “Driver.”

Chris let out his own chuckle. “I don’t have a bodyguard, Aslin. May I call you Aslin? Jeff is what’s left of my entourage.”

Aslin cocked an eyebrow. “What’s left of it?”

Chris reached up and snared his seat belt to buckle himself in. “I grew out of it.” He gave Aslin a wide smile. “Ready?”

Before Aslin got a chance to ask for what, the thumping sounds of Linkin Park flooded the SUV’s cabin, the engine roared into life and the car took off, throwing Aslin back into his seat as Jeff drove them away from the café and past the furiously photographing middle-aged fan.

Welcome to the movie world, boyo, Aslin thought, buckling himself in as quickly as he could. Remind yourself to kick Nick in the arse when you see him again.

Twenty minutes later—with quite a few of those minutes spent reminding Jeff Coulten Australians drove on the left side of the road—Aslin swore he’d never get in a car with what was left of Chris Huntley’s entourage again. Not if the affable Jeff was driving. Thankfully, and somewhat remarkably, they’d made it to the film set in one piece, Jeff leaving Chris and Aslin at the fenced perimeter before tearing away, wheels spitting gravel out in his wake.

Chris threw Aslin a sideward glance, no doubt seeing the disapproval on Aslin’s face. “He’s a great guy, honest,” he said as they began walking deeper into the area currently overrun with film crew. “And he’s been my friend for years.”

****

Muscle for Hire will be available 29th January. You can pre-order it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Samhain and all good ebook resellers.

Want more first five pages? Visit…

Mari Carr
Bianca D’Arc
Jambrea Jones
Rhian Cahill
Lila Dubois

FINALLY! The cover for Muscle for Hire.

Who wants to see it?

Protecting her was never going to be easy.

After sixteen years as the personal bodyguard to the world’s biggest rock star, ex-SAS commando Aslin Rhodes excels in the role of intimidating protector, oozing threatening menace. Now that the singer has retired, Aslin takes a new assignment as a military consultant on a blockbuster film. But just as he’s getting comfortable in the world of Hollyweird, he faces an unexpectedly immovable object. An American martial arts expert no taller than his chin, who promptly puts him on his arse.

Rowan Hemsworth’s focus is two-fold—keep her famous brother grounded, and never again be a defenseless victim. She has her hands full as the fun police, keeping her brother’s money-sucking entourage at bay. But nothing prepared her for the British mountain of muscle who makes her knees go uncharacteristically weak.

When a string of accidents on set convinces Aslin that Rowan—not her brother—is the target, things get bloody tricky as he tries to convince the stubborn woman she needs his protection. And accept that she belongs with him. In his arms, in his bed…and in his heart.

Warning: The strong, silent type don’t come much more silent and strong than Aslin Rhodes. But when he does speak his British accent will drive you mad with desire. As will his menacing, dominating power. And what he can do to a woman on the back of a motorcycle.

You can pre-order Muscle for Hire here on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Yay!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Five Pages – Kat and Mouse

Today’s Five For Friday is also a celebration. Today, is the release of Kat and Mouse. What’s Kat and Mouse?

This…

Australian Federal Police Office Katrina O’Lauchlan is on the tail of an international jewel thief, a mysterious criminal known only as The Mouse.

She’s not going to let him get away, even when his trail leads her to the sinfully decadent paranormal resort, Los Magia, a place where your every desire is catered to. Katrina’s desires run deep and dark, and The Mouse is more than willing to accommodate them. But so is someone else. Someone who’s been watching them both. Someone who knows everything about them…Someone dangerous.

Someone powerful.

Someone not human…

 

Prologue

He hung upside-down, muscles burning with the need to move, eyes locked utterly on the slim woman crossing the room. She had a Glock .45 in one hand, metal-barrel torch in the other and a look of fierce purpose on her face.

She’d made it here sooner than he’d expected, almost catching him red-handed.

She’s getting better at reading you.

Yes, she was, and that made her dangerous.

He followed her steady progress across the gallery floor, an unexpected twinge of admiration twisting in his gut.

He scowled and tightened his grip on the harness suspending him from the vaulted ceiling. The faint stirring in his groin was a problem, even more so than her developing skill.

True. But what about her turns you on? The hot, firm little body made for sin, or the determined tenacity that’s made her the only cop to even come close to catching you?

His scowl deepened. He didn’t know. That was more dangerous than anything.

Letting his gaze travel slowly over her poised but wary form one last time, he pushed the entirely appealing image of her handcuffed naked to his bed from his mind. He had places to go, diamonds to steal. He couldn’t hang around here all night lusting after a woman who would—given half the chance—shoot him in point-oh-three seconds flat.

The buyer for the Australis Night had been very specific: be in Los Magia, USA with the rare black diamond by Sunday or the “transaction” was terminated.

He’d risked everything to steal the Australis Night. After this…

He let his gaze linger of the woman’s face, on the full line of her lower lip. Imagining it pressed to his.

With a shake of his head, chest, gut and groin tight, he reefed himself higher into the ceiling’s hidden depths. Some endings were never meant to be, no matter how much one desired them.

It was time to leave the country.

 

Chapter One

 

He raked his hands over her breasts. Caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger and pinched. Ribbons of wet heat shot straight to her sex, making her gasp and squirm beneath him. His tongue plunged deeper past the folds of her sex, lapping at the juices she knew slicked the inside of her thighs, the juices that turned the air musky. Oh, God. How did he do this to her?

His tongue flicked up over her clit, teased it, rolled over it again and again. She moaned and shoved her pussy harder to his face, fisting the sheets below her, ramming her head into the mattress. She’d said no when he’d first brought her into the room. No. It’s too soon. What had she been thinking?

He’d thrown her on the bed before she could step away from him, crashing down on her, pinning her to the mattress, his hands snatching her wrists and forcing them still beside her head. She’d glared up at him, stared into hazel eyes of the sharpest colour. Get off me.

No.

Just one word. One word that had ignited her rage and turned her hungry pussy to liquid.

His mouth had crushed hers, tongue plundering past her lips to demand she return the kiss. She bucked and fought against him, the steely length of his erection a turgid reminded of his power over her. With each thrash of her limbs he’d forced the kiss deeper, ground his cock—trapped by tight, worn denim—against the dampening junction of her thighs until, eyes fluttering closed, she’d stopped fighting.

The moment her lips became receptive, he tore his mouth from hers, grabbed the front of her shirt and ripped it apart. Tell me you want this.

She couldn’t. The words wouldn’t leave her tongue. Heat flamed in her cheeks, heat almost as hot as the molten lust surging through her veins, pooling in her pussy.

Hazel eyes flared. Tell me.

I want this.

The admission tumbled from her lips and the fire in her face flared hotter. She squirmed beneath him, rubbing her sex over the solid ridge of his cock even as she turned her head to the side.

Look at me.

She refused to move, choking on the sinful ache invading her body.

Hands, strong and firm, closed over her breasts and a gasp burst from her as raw pleasure shot through her body. Look at me. Tell me you want me to fuck you.

She turned back to him, gazed up into his burning eyes and her sex clenched at the naked desire she saw there. She sucked in a shallow breath. I want you to fuck me.

A bitter smile pulled at his lips. Because I’m dangerous.

It was a statement, but a question as well. Dangerous. Yes. He was dangerous. Everything in her world had been about safety. Everything in her upper-class life had been about keeping safe. But not him. Yet that wasn’t the reason she was with him. Here. Now. She was here with him because…

His mouth closed over one nipple and he nipped on its puckered nub. Exquisite pain shot through her and she’d cried out. Oh, God.

She grabbed at the sheets, fisted them into crumpled balls, her pussy flooding with a need she’d never dreamed possible until this moment. She’d bucked her hips, pushing her sex harder to his cock, wordlessly demanding he do what he’d threatened to do the second they’d first met.

But he didn’t. He’d dragged his mouth from her breast, scored a wet, hot line down her stomach to flick his tongue into her navel. She’d bitten her bottom lip to stop her moan, a bottom lip he’d described as full and sinful, but when his strong fingers released the button-fly of her jeans, when his hands yanked them down her hips, when his lips took possession of her pussy the moan burst free. Filling the room with its raw sound.

You taste so good. I knew you would.

The words were muffled, his breath like hot mist on the sodden folds of her sex, his hands like warm velvet sliding up her stomach to capture her breasts.

And now, here she lay. In the throes of sexual eruption, the man between her thighs driving her wild with his tongue, his teeth, his knuckles and his fingers…and two words floated through her pleasure-clouded mind. Two words. Dangerous. Love.

The two fit too well together. She squeezed her eyes shut. God, she was in too deep.

She rolled her head to the side, the burring friction of his tongue on her clit making her tremble, making her want to forgot who he was, what he was.

Bright light glared against her closed eyelids, stark and confronting and she opened her eyes, looking at the overweight, sweaty bald man sitting beside her.

“We’re touching down soon,” he said, showering her in half-chewed peanut crumbs. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Australian Federal Police Officer, Katrina O’Lauchlan blinked, squinting at the man and the light beaming through the small window behind him. Hot mortification poured through her and she bit back a groan. She was in a luxurious private jet somewhere over the United States, for Chrissakes, not a dark and seedy hotel room in the Outer Sydney Suburbs. Bloody Hell, O’Lauchlan. You were dreaming.

Another wave of shame rolled through Katrina and she scrubbed at her eyes with her palms. No. Not a dream. A memory. A memory of a time and a person she thought she’d erased from her system.

Not just one person, O’Lauchlan. Two. Who you are now is nothing like who you were back then…right?

Katrina ground her teeth and clenched her fists. She wanted to scream. Or shoot something.

Turning away from the fat bald man with dubious personal hygiene beside her—one of Australia’s most powerful media tycoons, of all things—she stared blankly up the aisle. Shit. A memory. Thought you were over him?

Katrina suppressed a growl. She was over him, damn it. She’d spent the better part of the last seven years obliterating paper man-shaped targets at the firing range getting over him. She’d spent the three years before that, before she could legally fire a gun, beating the crap out of unsuspecting sparring partners at her taekwondo class getting over him. What the bloody hell was she doing reliving that moment again?

***

What do you think?

Where can you buy Kat and Mouse? Currently on Amazon and Smashwords, and soon to be everywhere else. Yay!

Want more Five For Friday action? Check out…

Mari Carr

Bianca D’Arc
Jambrea Jones
Rhian Cahill
Lila Dubois

I’m A Glutton for Punishment

Guess what I’m attempting this year?

By the end of November, I fully intend to have finished Chris Huntley’s story (which is currently untitled). I shall share snippets from the book and keep you all up to-date as I go. So far today (the 1st November) I’ve written 1867 words with more to be written tonight when my family goes to bed. Here’s a really short tease…

Chris blinked, the realization he hadn’t shaken Reynolds hand hitting him with sinking horror. “Sorry,” he blurted, snatching the man’s hand just as Reynolds was retracting it. Hot licks of tension shot through him at the hasty contact, spearing into his groin. His cock throbbed. “Sorry,” he repeated, ignoring the unnerving sensation as he shook Reynolds’ hand with an up-and-down motion he knew was borderline frantic. “I’m jet-lagged.”

So yep, it begins. NaNo-wrimo and my first ever m/m book. Wish me luck.

Anyone else doing NaNo this year?