Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 391

Jane Leopold Quinn: The Long Road To You

The Long Road To You

The Brothers Agee – Nick

My two historical western releases are my homage to the western. Their inspiration came from my love of the TV western, The Big Valley. I was/am a Nick Barkley fan. For a while I monitored a fan fiction site relating to this show. Heath was the big favorite, Jarrod fans were strong, but Nick fans were loyal. That black clothing and especially the omnipresent black gloves were somehow sexy. In Nick’s case, a black Stetson didn’t make him the bad guy.

My first manuscript written was The Long Road to You, and it starred a hero named Nick. Around the same time, I was listening to an Andrea Bocelli CD, Sogno, and in particular the song, ‘O Mare e Tu. Its haunting minor chords, the Spanish/Arabic/Gypsy sounds  put me in mind of the Flamenco. A young Anglo woman became my heroine, and she became the Flamenco dancer. You’d think a Mexican or Spanish woman would be the dancer, but I turned it around so the properly brought up and schooled American girl fell in love with the Flamenco, tried to break her bonds of propriety, and flee to escape the threat of an arranged marriage. This book became Jake and Ivy, the first in The Brothers Agee series.

Both heroes Jake and Nick were inspired, in part, by an incident in my husband’s youth. The brothers were raised in an orphanage. Nick left when Jake was ten years old, and they rediscovered each other in Jake and Ivy. My heart ached for the young orphan boys.

After Jake and Ivy’s happily ever after, Nick realized that he yearned to quit roaming, settle down, and find his own home. His visit to Jake’s ranch brings along the discovery of the neighboring ranch owner, Margee McPherson. Margee’s feistiness, independence, and beauty make Nick think of the life he needs now and how long the road has been to this place and time.

 

Nick Gabriel, orphan, outlaw, reformed man, yearns for what his brother Jake has—land, a home, and best of all, a loving wife. Nick pulls a woman off a rearing horse, slamming her sexy, lithe body against his, the impetuous action setting him up to lose his heart.

Margee McPherson’s whole world revolves around running the ranch her father left her and handling the creepy ranch foreman she also inherited. Years before, she’d made a mistake that ended tragically. Now, she won’t allow the drifter cowboy, Nick Gabriel, to get anywhere near her no matter how tall, dark, and handsome he is, and how much she longs to be in his arms.

Both have secrets in their pasts. Will Margee’s fear and guilt keep her from moving forward with her life? Nick’s fallen in love with the beautiful rancher. Can he prove to her his roaming days are over? And will they survive their past secrets, finding the love they didn’t know they craved?

EXCERPT

God, it’s hot. Sun. Fire nearby for the branding irons. The air was heavy and hazy with dust as well as ash and smoke from the smoldering cottonwood logs. Beeves lowed as they waited and jostled each other in the holding pens, and the calves bawled earsplittingly as they were culled out for branding.

Margee’s arms and legs were strained to their utmost. Sweat dripped down her face and neck caking dust into mud streaks along the side of her nose, on her upper lip, and her chin. Branding a calf was difficult, but the cowboys made it look easy. Of course, they all had a hundred pounds or more on her. One of them could handle it alone.

Margee didn’t have to help out, but she reveled in it. After all, she’d not come home to sit in the parlor and ply a needle on stitchery. A cowboy behind her held the calf while she dug in her heels, taking its head to the ground. He forced the hindquarters down for branding. She felt the calf jerk, smelled burning hair, and heard his final complaint. She rolled off to free the calf and watched him trot away, indignantly tossing his hindquarters as if to shake off the sting.

Brushing dust and dirt from her eyes and mouth, she chuckled about what the girls at school would think to see her now. They’d probably refuse to acknowledge her. Well, they wouldn’t even recognize her in the first place. In the time since she’d been home on the ranch, she’d become a totally different person. The prim, proper, quiet young lady she’d been schooled to be at the Atkinson Private Academy for Young Ladies in Philadelphia was gone. In its place was someone more like the tomboy she’d been before she went east. She liked herself and loved her life so much more now.

Finally free. Free of convention. Free of restrictions. Free of teachers and chaperones monitoring her every move. They hadn’t been able to control her thoughts, though. Her goal had always been to come home and never be forced to leave again.

Her former classmates wouldn’t recognize her by her clothing either. She refused to wear the constricting corset with its whalebone stays that flattened her body into a stiff column. All the hard work and riding had strengthened her already firm, lean body. Her usual style of clothing consisted of a divided leather skirt for ease of riding astride and a man’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Because she only wore a hat in the hottest sun or to protect her head in the rain, her face, arms, and hands were tanned beyond what would be proper back east. Straight auburn hair, which was only piled on top of her head while working or in the fiercest heat, usually fell free around her face and shoulders or was gathered at her nape with a ribbon.

Before she leaped to her feet, as she was fully capable of doing, a pair of large, well-worn boots appeared in front of her along with a hand. Grabbing the hand, she was yanked abruptly to her feet and stumbled heavily against what felt like a boulder. A boulder in clothes.

“Wuf!” She gripped the man’s forearms for balance. “Thank you.” Glancing up, she peered into the eyes of the very man who’d been inhabiting some very fevered dreams lately. Damn. What’s he doing here? Her good humor died. He’s too close. Her heart raced. The long face, those wide-set, dark eyes were just as she remembered. At that moment, his sculpted lips opened in a generous smile.

In the bright daylight, she noticed the wind and sun-roughened texture of his face. The same as the first time she’d seen him. Then why did it feel like a fist closed around her heart? He was such a—man. All hard and masculine. Stubble, dark and bristly, covered his strong square chin. Creases had carved deep into the sides of his mouth. She had to wrest her mind into control. She did not want that mouth on hers.

Breath stuck in her throat though. Her mind quit working as her fingers tightened on his shirt sleeves. Shadowed by his hat, his eyes held humor, probably at her expense. Oh my. Transfixed in this improbable place of heat and dust and an incredible cacophony of sounds, she looked into the depth of his eyes and knew, in her soul, she was in a lot of trouble. More than she’d been with that other man. Her first.

The Brothers Agee Series –

The Long Road To You available now at Amazon – http://amzn.com/B00SX7AR5K

Jake and Ivy available now at Amazon - http://amzn.com/B00OEFC9LK

Bio

Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, “Why don’t you write them down?” Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I’m lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!

My Books  

Ellora’s Cave

Lost and Found

The Real Deal

Ancient Ties (coming soon)

Educating Eris (coming soon)

My Parisian Summer (coming soon)

Indie

Loving Valentine

His, Hers & His

The Keeper

Soldier, Come Home

Winning Violetta

A Promise at Dawn

Jake and Ivy

Wooing the Librarian

Home to Stay

The Long Road to You

Her Hero (coming soon)

Siren

I’ll Be Your Last

Jane Leopold Quinn

My Romance:  Love With a Scorching Sensuality

http://janeleopoldquinn.BlogSpot.com   +  https://twitter.com/jelquinnauthor

Amazon Author Page

A Random Bit of Fun and a Contest

It’s Saturday morning and I slept in just a little. So I’m running just a little behind. I was going to post something mind-blowingly clever, but now I only have time for this.

There are TWO chances to win something today. Look for ‘em!

A Random Scavenger Hunt

I just completed updates to my website, and since I went to that expense, someone is going to darn well enjoy it! (Do you hear the maniacal laughter?)

Following are the questions. You can find the ALL the answers on my website. Be sure to email me your answers DIRECTLY to me at delilah@delilahdevlin.com. Do not help everyone else by posting your answers in the comments! For everyone who sends me their answers, they will be entered to win a $5 gift certificate from Amazon.com! So, not a lot of money, but hey—that could get you five $.99 stories on Amazon!

The Questions:

1) What three stories appear on my Bookshelf page?

2) Which story cover on my Upcoming/Coming Soon page depicts a woman wearing a monocle?

3) Have you signed up for both my newsletter and to get my blog emailed right to your inbox? *hint* Glance down the left-hand column of this blog.

4) What book is coming April 15 and is ready for pre-order now?

Friday’s New Shortie

Just FYI. I promised a new short story every Friday until April.

This week’s new release is Drive Me Crazy. For now, these 5000-word stories can be found only on Kindle. They are free to Kindle Unlimited readers and just $.99 to everyone else.

She’s out for one night of passion in a trucker’s big rig…

Get it at the Kindle store!

I have a brand new page on my website devoted to the shorties. If you’d like to see what’s already out, as well as what’s coming, check it out! Shortie Page

Contest

Win a free download of either Wet Down or Watch Over Me! All you have to do is answer the following questions in the comments!

Which covers on the Shorties page most appeal to you?

Augustina Van Hoven: Cabin Fever

At this time of year, I get a serious case of cabin fever and a longing to be digging in my garden.  I love growing things.  You can see from the photo that I have a very large raised bed garden.

Now don’t get me wrong, I really do like snow.  It’s very pretty.  It covers up the dead grass and looks great hanging on the pine trees around my house.  It also adds to the ambience of the holidays.  Snow on the ground at Thanksgiving makes the holiday feel cozier while I’m in my kitchen baking pies.  Moreover, what’s Christmas without snow?  It’s nature’s special holiday decoration.  In my area, when there is too little snow fall in the winter we have problems with our lakes not filling up as much as they need to.  In addition, there are five ski resorts around me and their very livelihood depends on good snowfall.  I just feel that winter lasts too long.  Once the holidays are over the snow should go away and spring needs to begin.

I have found two things that help alleviate winter depression.  The first is planting my own starters.  I have growing tables set up in my garage complete with heating mats under the trays and grow lights above them.  The area is large enough to grow one hundred and eighty seedlings.  At this time of year, I start my tomatoes and peppers.  I live only a hundred miles from the Canadian border and the growing season up here is very short.  If you start your tomatoes outside from seeds, they will be small and green by the time the first frost hits in September.  The only way to have a decent crop is start them indoors and move them outside after the last spring frost, which is around mid-May.

The second thing I have found to battle winter depression and cabin fever is to start writing a new story.  I may be house bound and dealing with miserable weather but my characters aren’t.

My current work in progress is the sequel to my October release, THE KISS OF A ROSE.  The new book picks up about eight months after the end of the first one.  It continues the story with all the same characters and a few new ones.  The title for the second book is, THE THORN OF A ROSE with a release date later this year.

Augustina Van Hoven

Proving Love is Strange

THE KISS OF A ROSE – Now available

www.augustinavanhoven.com

FaceBook | Twitter:  @augustinavhoven

 

A DISTANT PAST

In 1882, Rose Van Buren loved the wrong man and paid for it with her life. Now, more than a century later, the angel Gabriel has granted her another shot at living. In exchange, she must convince a smart, handsome, up-and-coming lawyer to set aside his lofty ambitions.

A FUTURE PRESENT

Stephen Winship is headed straight for the governor’s chair. He has a brilliant career, solid allies, and a seemingly perfect girlfriend. But night after night he finds himself dreaming of a heavenly beauty, a luminous but long-dead girl. Like some altered Ghost of Christmas Past, she shows him her own tragic tale in order to “save him.” And he’s beginning to see Rose is risking her heart as much as baring her soul. Yet falling for her will cost him everything—and open him up to a happiness he never imagined.

Julia Talbot: When your work surprises you

When an author sets out to write a book, even a pantser like me, they have an end result in mind. For instance, when I set out to write my newest release from Dreamspinner press. Drive Your Truck, I intended to write a contemporary romance about a Navy SEAL and a closeted deputy in Colorado. I wanted it to be a hot, not terribly angst-filled, and full of adrenaline-junkie stunts.

What I got was a couple of guys who met over a grief-filled moment, and a slow exploration of how two men change their lives so they can be together and live as they want to. The whole progression turned out a little darker than I expected, the guys’ relationship far more complex. This was no simple sex to love relationship; it was about both men realizing they had to give up certain unhealthy behaviors, and about them setting aside preconceived notions.

As a writer, I love it when my characters surprise me. Sometimes it delights me, sometimes it challenges me, but I always want to see where the ride takes me.

The title, incidentally, comes from a Lee Brice song of the same name, which was also a surprise. When I first heard the lyrics, I didn’t love the song, thinking it was a bit like emotional blackmail. Let’s combine all these clichés to receive a conditioned response. Then I saw the video, and it turned around my whole view of the song. The singer I already love. Check out how naughty he can be on his song Carolina Boys.

Thanks so much for letting me jabber today as a guest on Delilah’s blog! Here is all the information on Drive Your Truck, which has been on the Dreamspinner bestseller list for two weeks now!

Home on compassionate leave for his brother’s funeral, Navy SEAL Garrison Matthews needs to blow off a lot of stress and grief before he returns to active duty. In honor of his brother, he takes Bettie, the brothers’ souped-up vintage truck, out for a spin. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, Garrison has no problem finding trouble. This time trouble’s named Walt, and he happens to be Garrison’s sister-in-law’s brother.

Neither man expects their fun to amount to anything else, but after an injury sends Garrison home for good, he turns to Walt, hoping to start a new life. Walt is a closeted sheriff’s deputy, and while he adores Garrison, he isn’t sure he’s ready to come out… or for such a big commitment. Being fresh out of the service isn’t easy on Garrison either. To find their happy ending, Walt and Garrison must overcome their trust issues and get ready to settle down together.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5988 (Buy link)

XXOO,

Julia Talbot

www.juliatalbot.com

Elle James aka Myla Jackson: Writer Sisters (Contest)

Us playing dress up!

How many of you have sisters? Or have a friend you consider a sister? I’m fortunate that my sister is the fabulous Delilah Devlin! I know. Be jealous! We are only 2 years and a handful of months apart in age and we grew up sharing some of the same adventures. Now that we’re writers, we have so much more in common. When something big happens in my writing career, my sister is the first person I call. She celebrates with me and understands some of the strange things that I consider successes in this business. I love my husband and my children, my mom and my dad, but my sister GETS me as a writer.

I was stuck writing my story THE BILLIONAIRE CINDERELLA TEST and she offered to take a look at it and give me some feedback. She read the first 13,000 words and nailed the problem immediately. My hero wasn’t very likeable and he needed a stronger motivation to behave the way he did. After an hour on the phone, I came away with a stronger hero, a better story and a hunger to finish it. She’s awesome and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

****For a chance to win a $5 Gift card***

Leave a comment about your sister or best friend and why she is special to you.

 

The Billionaire Cinderella Test

Available for preorder

Amazon: http://amzn.to/17x2rlO

Ibooks: http://bit.ly/1C3YkXF

Billionaire Online Dating Service. Let us find your perfect match!

Desperate to find a date to his own charity ball to avoid taking a spoiled debutante, billionaire Gage Tate agrees to give his friend’s online dating system a try. Tired of gold-diggers and society princesses, he wants a woman who isn’t after his money, and won’t become a bridezilla-wanna-be when exposed to his high-society world and the trappings of wealth.

She never expected a computer program to be her fairy godmother…

Fiona McKenzie returns home from college to discover the family ranch threatened by foreclosure. Desperate to find a way to earn enough money to pay off medical and mortgage bills, she’ll do practically anything to save the home she loves. Unbeknownst to Fiona, her stepsisters enter her name in an online dating system, which she flat-out tells them she doesn’t have time for nor the inclination. Her focus is on saving the ranch.

When Gage’s date is reluctant to go out with him, he’s challenged to win her over. After a little digging, he discovers she’s in a tight financial situation. He sees this as an angle to pay for a date, help her out, with no strings attached when the charity ball is over. Only he didn’t count on falling for the pretty cowgirl, turned Cinderella. With her family ranch on the line, Fiona has no other choice than to accept Gage’s offer and she’s swept into a world of high-society most girls would consider a dream come true. Fiona isn’t impressed, but finds her prince charming a little to attractive to forget when the spell wears off.

Note: Make a stop at Myla Jackson’s Ugly Stick Saloon in this story and say Hi to old friends.

NYT and USA Today Bestselling Author ELLE JAMES also writing as MYLA JACKSON is an award-winning author of stories including cowboys, intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edges of their seats. With over seventy stories in a variety of sub-genres and lengths she is published with Harlequin, Samhain, Ellora’s Cave, Kensington, Cleis Press, and Avon. When she’s not at her computer, she’s traveling, out snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.

Elle’s Links: Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Newsletter | Amazon Author Page

Myla Jackson’s links: Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter

Sweeter Than Honey (Contest)

Honey is heeerrrre! It’s a gorgeous cover, isn’t it? Enjoy the excerpt I’ve included. It’s just a tease. Things get zanier and sexier in a hurry. Honey has heart, too.

If you read it, I’d love to know how you enjoyed it. And if you have time and don’t mind, I’d love for you to post a review. Reviews do help other readers make up their minds to buy.

Post a comment today for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card. I’ll be awarding the prizes for the countdown postings later today, so you still have time to enter!

Something’s on the rise in Two-Mule, Texas. And it ain’t just the temperature.

1880, West Texas

Honey Cafferty lives a happy, if precarious, existence as a traveling saleswoman. She sells her elixirs and potions while searching for the one thing she hasn’t been able to brew from the back of her colorful wagon—a sense of belonging. She arrives in Two Mule, Texas, with her Elixir of Love, a potion that improves a man’s libido but might just get her run out of town.

Sheriff Joe Tanner is protective of his little town. Downright hostile toward anyone who might take advantage of the fine folk under his protection. Any snake-oil salesman who rolls into town better just keep right on rolling.

Honey isn’t what Joe expected, from her vibrant red hair and cat-green eyes to her curvy mouth and hips. And when the men of the town begin to plead exhaustion—and place the blame squarely on her sweet-smelling shoulders—Joe has no choice but to launch an investigation. A very, very deep investigation…

Warning: Contains a sheriff who prides himself on keeping his town running as smooth as a well-greased wagon wheel, and a wandering saleswoman who’s more than a bump (and grind) in his road.

Buy at: Samhain | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

“Sheriff, you’ve gotta do somethin’ about that woman.”

The note of exasperation in Curly Hicks’s voice was one Joe Tanner had heard often in the past couple of days—at least from the unmarried men of the town. He didn’t need to ask which woman Curly was talking about. He already knew who was responsible for Curly’s agitation. Her name was on everybody’s lips, although the tones with which her name was spoken varied widely.

He was curious what the normally reticent shopkeeper had to say about the lady in question. “Just what do you want me to do about her, Curly?”

“Send her packin’! She’s up to somethin’. Cain’t tell you ’xactly what, but ever since she came, nothin’s been the same.”

So he wasn’t the only one to notice. Since the day Honey Cafferty’s fancy-painted wagon had rolled into town, the mood around Two Mule had seemed…expectant, like the town itself was wakening from a long slumber and had suddenly discovered every joyful holiday was all wrapped inside one bright, shining moment.

Which posed a dilemma for Joe. Two Mule had elected him to keep the peace and things had been riding smooth like a Conestoga over flat land—no bumps, no bone-jarring thuds. So far, the townsfolk had been pretty satisfied with their lives. It was a quiet place—the right kind of town to set down deep roots—and he intended to keep it that way.

However, Honey Cafferty had a way about her that was anything but quiet. She radiated shimmering sensuality, from her vibrant red hair and cat-like green eyes to her lushly curved lips and body. Everything about her shouted like Fourth of July fireworks and crazily spinning whirligigs, eliciting a restless hunger in him that had no place in his tidy little life.

Just looking at the woman made his teeth ache, made him want to touch the fire he sensed smoldered just below the surface of her sweet-smelling peaches-and-cream skin.

“Whatcha gonna do, Sheriff?”

Not what he really wanted to, that was for damn sure. “Has she committed a crime?”

Curly’s cheeks reddened. “You’re not list’nin’ to me. Amos Handy didn’t open his smithy shop ’til half past noon yesterday. That ain’t never happened before.”

“Why do you think Miss Cafferty had something to do with that?”

“Amos’s wife bought a bottle of her special ee-lixir the day before.”

“So you think Miss Cafferty poisoned Amos?”

“I’m not sayin’ she did it on purpose, but Letty was sure lookin’ happy when I came to see what was wrong. And you know that woman has the sourest disposition of any female this side of the Mississippi.”

“What about Amos? Did he look like he was sickening?”

“Well, no. But he’s mighty tired, he says. Said he was gonna close his shop for a couple of days—take a vacation. You ever heard such a load of horseshit in all yer born days?”

“Still don’t see where Miss Cafferty fits in with all this.”

“Sheriff, you need to open your eyes,” Curly said, his own eyes bugging wide. “Look at all the married folk. The men are lookin’ glassy-eyed and the women are hummin’ like mosquitoes. I tell you, it’s that woman’s fault.”

“What about you, Curly? Do you have any complaints?”

“I’m plain tuckered out keepin’ one step ahead of Sally. She’s been tryin’ to get me to stop by for her apple pie, but she has that look in her eye again.”

“Which one’s that?”

“That marryin’ look. The one what’s got me too sceert to step outside her mama’s parlor for a kiss. It might be all over for me,” he said dolefully.

Joe suppressed a smile. Not that he blamed Curly for his skittishness. Despite his longing to set down roots, the thought of marriage made him itch too. “Do you know anything about this special elixir the Cafferty woman’s selling?”

“Nope. Soon as she sold her dyspepsia cures, she shooed the menfolk away for a private chat with the ladies. They sure as hell aren’t talkin’ about what she give ’em.”

“Have you asked her straight out what she’s been selling to the womenfolk?”

Curly’s cheeks grew a fiery red. “I cain’t do that, Sheriff,” he said, his tone mournful. “I open my mouth to have my say, and all she has to do is aim those pretty green eyes my way and I’m meltin’ like ice cream on a hot summer day. Before you know it, she’s done sold me somethin’ else I don’t need.”

Joe pressed his lips into a straight line to keep from laughing. Yes, siree. Looking into the woman’s eyes did test the mettle of a man. If a man wasn’t on guard against her charm, she’d tie his tongue in knots and swell his…

Best not let his mind head down that dusty trail. “Tell you what, Curly. I’ll pay a visit to Miss Cafferty. See if there’s anything to your story.”

“Don’t have to go out to her campsite. She’s in the saloon right now. That was the other thing I was gonna mention. No righteous woman like she claims to be oughta be rollin’ on the floor of a saloon with Paddy Mulligan. It’s just not seemly.”

Joe stiffened. “She’s in the saloon?” At Curly’s solemn nod, he grabbed his hat and stomped out of his office onto the planked walkway, making a beeline for the Rusty Bucket. Miss Cafferty had seemed so coy, so modest, when he’d sold her the permit to solicit. She’d dressed in an outfit any Eastern-raised schoolmarm would have given the nod. He should have listened to his gut in the first place. No decent woman had ever made him so damn out of control. She was just like the rest of those independent-minded women who thought society’s rules somehow didn’t apply to them.

The red hair had been a bright, glaring clue to her true nature—no matter that it was always neatly styled and pinned. She’d snookered him just like she had the rest of the townsfolk.

He slammed his palms against the swinging doors leading into the saloon and came to a halt. A ring of men filled the center of the room. Those on the outer perimeter stood on tiptoe to peer over the shoulders of the men standing at the center of the circle.

He elbowed his way inside and sucked a slow breath between his teeth to calm the anger that burned hot and fast as a match to gunpowder.

The sight that greeted him only raised the pressure pounding in his head another notch. The shy and modest Miss Cafferty straddled the barrel chest of the town drunk, her petticoats rising above her knees. Her woolen stockings hugged an expanse of ankle and calf that drew every male eye watching her wrestle the behemoth.

Paddy Mulligan groaned beneath her, sounding like a cross between a drunken bear and a man in the last throes of lust. Given his sorry state, Joe suspected his moans were due more to the heat from the woman’s open legs rubbing his wide belly and her bottom bumping his private parts than the wicked set of shiny pliers she had shoved inside his mouth.

Joe’s own body reacted swiftly, urgently. This was the last damn straw. “Woman, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Honey Cafferty blew an errant curl of flaming-red hair from her eyes. “Not now,” she said, not looking away from Paddy’s tonsils. “Now, Paddy, if you’d let me give you my special painkiller first—”

“Smelled like skunk fart,” one of the men in the circle said. “Don’t blame him for refusin’.”

“Shoulda just let him get drunk first,” another said.

“Drinking spirits makes a man bleed faster,” Honey muttered and twisted her wrist, eliciting a strangled groan from Paddy.

“Yeah, but then he wouldn’t give a damn,” said the bartender, who stood with his arms folded over his chest, a glower darkening his usually jovial face.

“Someone’s standing in my light,” Honey said and looked over her shoulder. When she caught sight of Joe, her eyes blinked and she gave him a weak smile. “If you’d just shift to your left, Sheriff, I’ll be done with this extraction in just a minute.”

Joe narrowed his eyes, but he moved sideways, taking a deep breath to calm the fury building inside him. He’d bide his time for now, but he and the little lady were gonna have a talk.

She twisted her hand again, and Paddy’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“Thank the Lord, he passed right out,” said the bartender, looking as pale as a ghost.

Both Honey’s hands wrapped around the pliers and she leaned back. Everybody drew a deep breath and more than one man’s face winced as she yanked a blackened tooth out of Paddy’s mouth.

“Got it!” She raised it high for everyone to see. “When he wakes up, he’ll feel so much better.”

She plucked the tooth off the end of her pliers and tucked it inside Paddy’s shirt pocket. Then she reached for a tapestry carpet bag lying on the floor beside her. She pulled out a small folded paper and poured a rough yellow-brown powder into her palm. She packed the powder into the bleeding hole she’d left in Paddy’s gum. “That should stop the bleeding and help him some with the pain.”

She wiped her hands on a bar towel, clambered off his chest and smoothed down her skirts. She pulled her cuffs back down her forearms, cool as a cucumber, while the crowd of fascinated men watched her put herself to rights.

Joe had no doubt that every man there was reversing the process in his mind. His cock surged again against the placket of his trousers, which only made him madder.

When she finished, she flashed a bright smile. “Now, if anyone else has trouble with an aching tooth, you know who to come to.”

There were a lot of heads shaking and low mutters among the men. However reluctant they might be for a visit from her plier-wielding hands, half a dozen men still reached down to pick up her bag.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said, reaching for the bag. “I’ll leave you to your business.”

The crowd parted like the Red Sea for Moses, and she sailed right through, brushing past Joe with a ladylike nod.

He clamped his jaw tight and turned to follow her out the doors. On the planked sidewalk, he caught her arm. “Now wait a minute there. You and I are gonna have us a little talk.”

“Oh? Do you need a tooth pulled too?” she said, a smile tugging the corners of her lips.

He narrowed his eyes. She wasn’t wriggling her way out of this with charm. A quick glance behind them, and he realized the swinging doors were open and the men had spilled onto the walkway to watch them.

All he needed now was for a few of the beer-guzzling crowd to decide a rescue was in order. “You’re coming to my office.”

“Anything you say,” she said, her voice soft and a little breathless.

One Day to Sweeter Than Honey (Contest)

“It’s all about that badge, ’bout that badge, no trouble…” That isn’t how that song goes? And now it’s in your head…

You’re welcome! But isn’t it true? Don’t you love the thought of a man with a badge—sworn to protect—and all you want is for that man to prove he’s a hero? Well, my hero in Sweeter Than Honey is a lot like Colt Triplehorn. A man torn between duty and his heart. And since this is a romance, we know which way he’ll swing, right?

Am I tempting you yet? You can pre-order your copy at Samhain, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kobo.

Post a comment and you’ll be entered to win a free

download  from among my Triple Horn Brand stories!

And don’t forget to enter yesterday’s drawing too. I won’t be

picking any prizes until release day, tomorrow!

 

“With amazing suspense, and hot, dominant lovin’ this cowboy and his high school sweetheart take the reader on an amazing emotional journey… Once again, thank you, Ms. Devlin, for stealing my heart with complex and witty characters, hot sex and riveting suspense!” 5/5 Books, Reviews by Molly

“Devlin has done it again! I pretty much gobble up anything she writes and “Laying Down the Law” is another hit…” The Brunette Librarian

Seeking sanctuary could be the hottest mistake she ever made.

The TripleHorn Brand, Book 1

A lifetime ago, Zuri Prescott kicked the dirt off her boots and ditched her small-time small town for the glam city life—and lived to regret it. When she’s framed for a bank job, she lights out for home, seeking refuge with her old high school sweetheart while she figures out her next steps. Only she discovers that the boy she left behind is the last man she should trust.

Sheriff Colt Triplehorn knows trouble when he sees it, especially when it comes in the form of a familiar trespasser, caught naked between an angry bull and her underwear. Sure she’s up to her usual no good, he grants her sanctuary at his ranch—the better to keep an eye on her, and purge her from his system once and for all.

Reconnection is sweet and hot, but the heat can’t hide the truth. When Colt inevitably finds out what Zuri’s running from, it’s too late to put the fire out, and he’s got a career-compromising choice on his hands. Follow the letter of the law, or follow his heart.

Product Warnings: When a sheriff captures the girl who got away, expect revenge so hot it leaves brands on two lonely hearts…

Zuri looked up, her hands pulling the belt tighter around her waist, grateful that this time she was covered neck to mid-calf. Still, she was hyper-aware she was naked underneath it and only one knot away from making another big mistake.

“You find everything you needed?” he asked, his tone impersonal.

Oddly, she thought she might actually prefer that ragged edge of anger he’d blistered her with by the river. “Yes, thanks.” She dropped the ties and smoothed her hands down her sides, nervous beneath his unblinking stare. “I don’t suppose you have anything I might wear, besides this robe, that is.” She flushed at how awkward this felt, how ridiculous her situation was. A closet full of clothes hung waiting for her six hundred miles away.

“You’re pretty skinny. I might have some sweatpants and a T-shirt, but you’ll have to cinch in the pants at the waist to keep ’em from fallin’ off.”

Skinny? Once he’d likened her slender frame to a filly’s, and she’d taken it as the highest compliment. She lifted her chin. “That’d be fine.”

She jerked when he strode for her, but he edged around the bed, headed to his dresser and pulled out a pair of gray sweat pants and a navy tee. He tossed both on the bed, and then stood with his hands fisted on his hips.

Zuri bit back a complaint, wishing he’d quit hovering because he was keeping her on edge. But when he didn’t budge, she dragged her feet to the bed, scooped up the wash-softened cotton and turned toward the bathroom.

“Uh uh,” he said, tsking softly. “My house. My clothes. My rules.”

She glanced over her shoulder, not knowing if she’d heard him right, but that same hard challenge he’d issued when he’d demanded the kiss was stamped all over his granite features.

She knew she ought to ignore him and lock herself into the bathroom to dress and gather her scattered wits, but the underlying tension riding the edge of his jaw excited her.

Colt had never been this dominating…except when they had sex. She’d loved it then. Her body seemed to crave it now. Heat bloomed again, winding around her core. A delicious little thrill accelerated her heartbeats.

Without a saying a word, she walked back to the bed and tossed down the clothing. Then keeping her gaze glued to his, she slowly untied the belt and let the robe fall open. With a sexy shrug, she let it slide off her shoulders and pool behind her on the floor.

Colt blinked first. His gaze trailed downward. His throat worked around a tense swallow, and Zuri couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. He might think he was in charge, but she knew better. Colt liked what he saw.

His quickening breaths were the first clue. The curving of his fists the second. When he opened his stance, just a few inches, she nearly crowed.

Reaching for the cotton pants, she wished she had something sexier to slide inside, then wondered if she’d lost her good sense to think that way. She had enough problems on her plate. But how could she dress and prevent him seeing what this was doing to her? Bending and opening her legs to step into the sweatpants made her feel vulnerable, exposed in a way that just standing there naked hadn’t. “I don’t understand you, or why you’re doin’ this.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I guess that’s true. It’s been a long time.”

“You didn’t know me then.”

She pulled the pants upward, over the curve of her bottom, feeling a little less off-center now that her lower half was hidden from his view. The waist of the pants settled on her hips and she rolled the band to gather up the excess fabric. “Guess that’ll have to do,” she muttered.

As she dragged the T-shirt over her head, she reminded herself why she was here. Definitely not to play games with her ex-boyfriend. She needed a safe place to stay. And she needed to keep Colt clueless until she had a chance to find her car and get rid of the damning evidence before the police found it. Her story might sound a little more believable then.

When she’d pulled the fabric down, fully covering her body, only then did she raise her glance to Colt’s again.

His brows pulled together. “Gonna tell me what’s going on? Why you’re here?”

“I’m a little hungry,” she said, knowing her attempt to stall was completely transparent. “I don’t suppose I could eat first?”

Colt dropped his fists and stepped closer, forcing her chin higher to hold his steady gaze. “If you’re in trouble…”

What? He’d help? She didn’t think so. Colt appeared to be the same inflexible cowboy. He’d always judged a person’s actions as either black or white, right or wrong. No interesting muddying of the colors accepted. She’d forgotten that about him.

She pondered telling him part of the tale, but worried he’d use what he learned to play with her some more. He seemed to like that fact he held the reins.

Zuri licked her lips. “I need a place to stay. Just for a little while.”

His gray eyes, once so warm and open, narrowed. A muscle flexed alongside his jaw.

She waited him out, knowing he wasn’t satisfied with her response. The longer the moment stretched between them, the more uncomfortable she grew. Still holding his steady gaze, she shifted her bare feet, supremely conscious of the fact she wasn’t wearing a stitch of underwear and that his clothing, while freshly laundered, still carried the hint of his unique scent. She was at his mercy. Completely.

Colt inhaled deeply, and then issued a soft, masculine grunt. He reached down and closed his hand around hers, then tugged her closer to the bed. He sat on the edge, staring at their hands before he looked up. “If you stay…you’ll sleep here,” he said, his voice tense and ragged.

Zuri wet her lips with her tongue because her mouth had suddenly gone dry. What he proposed sounded both so…wrong, yet incredibly tempting. She couldn’t get words past her tightening throat. If she could have, she didn’t know whether she would have told him to go to hell or given him a breathless yes. Instead, she squeezed his fingers.

So many thoughts swirled in her mind. Their past, her impossibly complicated present. It sounded so simple. She’d sleep beside him. Make love with him. Maybe she’d even find out that her memories of their being together were painted in rosy hues because she’d been younger, and he’d been her first.

Perhaps in exchange he’d give her clothes and money so that she could make a graceful exit.

Zuri crowded closer to his knees, tilting her chin.

Colt’s lips curved slightly at the corners, and although his gaze remained narrow, he scooted back.

She climbed over his lap, facing him, her thighs sliding over the outside of his, not saying a word, following her instincts although they’d led her down treacherous paths before. She slipped her hand alongside his neck, felt the heavy thrum of his pulse and bent down, her mouth hovering above his. “Think you can keep this uncomplicated, cowboy?”

A deep, throaty groan seeped between his lips, and she leaned into him, settling over the ridge throbbing beneath the placket of his jeans. She could do this. She could take what she wanted from him without losing her heart again. It was just sex. Just an arrangement for shelter, for time.

She had no illusions that she’d be sought by the law and soon. Her job would report her missing. The police would check her apartment and her background. But Detective David Satterly might want her involvement kept under wraps until he’d gotten to her…that might work to her advantage.

As Colt’s arms closed around her back, he lowered himself to the bed and brought her with him.

Sighing, she let her worries slide away. For now, she’d enjoy this little interlude. Accept the pleasure she knew he could deliver. She was older, had learned a few things about how to keep a relationship light. It was just sex.

But then he slid his hand beneath her shirt and scraped his callused palm upward to close around her bare breast. The sandpaper rasp of his thumb across her nipple lit a spark.

Their kiss turned instantly carnal, tongues stroking deeply, lips latching desperately together. Their bodies ground together, frustrated by the clothing separating them.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Ignore it,” she whispered.

Colt sighed. “Can’t. Gabe’ll just barge in. Have to explain it to him first.”

She sat, still straddling his hips. He slid his hand slowly from under her shirt and she climbed off. She turned her back to the door as Colt’s footsteps tapped across the bare wood.

Behind her, the brothers’ voices whispered too low to make out the words, but the rapidity of their exchange, short-bulleted bursts, told her Gabe wasn’t happy with her being here.

Keeping her back to them, she glanced into the dresser mirror and ran her fingers through her damp, tousled hair. Then her gaze fell on the jumbled items resting in a wooden tray. Keys, change. Silver gleamed. She stepped closer and plucked up a metal badge, Sheriff etched on its surface.

Zuri’s hand closed around it and the sharp edges dug into her skin. The one man she’d thought she might seek refuge with was the last she could trust with her secrets.

Two Days to Sweeter Than Honey (Contest!)

Yesterday, I slept late. Today, I was up at 5:30. I guess my subconscious wasn’t going to let me rest because I lost work-time yesterday futzing with my printer. Darn thing burned up. Add that to the computer going to the “blue screen of death” and I think technology was just reminding me not to take it for granted.

Anyway, I have a book coming out on Tuesday and I’m doing this little countdown, hoping to tempt you into pre-ordering my funny-sexy, historical western, Sweeter Than Honey. Yesterday, I reminded you I can write humor. Today, I’m proving I can write cowboys. You can pre-order your copy at Samhain, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kobo.

Post a comment and you’ll be entered to win a free download of True Heart. And don’t forget to enter yesterday’s drawing too. I won’t be picking any prizes until release day, February 10th (Tuesday, for those of us who can’t keep track of the date!).

 

“I have a definite soft spot in my heart for the strong silent type and True in this story…that’s my kind of guy. A little rough around the edges that loves as hard as he works. Can I PLEASE have a True? Man alive.”  Taryn Elliott on on TRUE HEART

“I thought the story behind True was fascinating; he is a captivating character. A delightful read.”  Sensual Reads

Two men plus one woman equals three bodies on fire…

True Wyatt’s hands are going to be full enough keeping the herd alive through the dead of winter. The last thing he needs to hear is that his brother Lonny has rented out their isolated hunting cabin to a reclusive writer—especially a sassy, disaster-prone brunette. Who has the time to babysit a city girl until Spring?

With a deadline looming, erotica writer Honey Cahill is looking forward to six distraction-free weeks to finish her next book. However, between Lonny’s flirty sensuality and True’s hard-edged intensity, the Wyatt brothers set the stage of her imagination for a winter of wicked delights.

The fire that destroys the cabin, though, is as real as it gets. Forced to seek a bed under True and Lonny’s roof, the temptation to experiment—all in the name of research, of course—is overpowering. One night in their arms doesn’t feel like enough; it feels like more. Particularly with one cowboy who fires all her cylinders…

Warning: It’s a Devlin ménage—expect men with stamina and not an ounce of mercy to behave like sex gods, and the lucky woman to love every minute of it. A little domination goes a long, long way…

True Wyatt prided himself on control—control over the multitude of responsibilities that came with riding herd over a successful ranch; control over his brother, who thought life should be enjoyed rather than conquered; and control over the desires he’d kept in rein since the demise of his marriage. And yet, the sight that greeted him this cold winter day told him he’d only been fooling himself.

From his perch high atop the ridge overlooking the lonely cabin, True Wyatt watched the shapely brunette as she made another trip to her car to pull boxes and suitcases from her backseat, one after the other. Grumpily, he wondered how she’d managed to stuff so much inside a Corolla. The trunk had held a similar assortment of printer-paper-sized boxes, which she’d manhandled into the house, her face growing rosy with exertion.

Despite the biting wind, she’d dispensed with her down coat and wore only a sweater with a crew neck, the sleeves pushed off her wrists. The dark blue knit hugged her upper torso, defining a lovely bosom and narrow waist. Every time she bent to pull out another box her designer jeans hugged her small rounded bottom, and his loins tightened.

Which annoyed the hell out of him. Fact was, he wished he could turn his horse away and pretend he hadn’t noticed trouble had arrived on his mountain. He knew exactly who to blame. His anger smoldered like hot coals ready to erupt into a full blaze. The clop of hooves approaching behind him carried just the fuel to add to the fire.

“Did you know?” True barked without glancing back.

“Know what?” his brother asked, humor underlying his slow drawl as he pulled up alongside him.

“That our tenant is a woman.”

“Sure did. I’m surprised that you’re surprised since I gave you a copy of her book. Picture’s right there on the back cover.”

The book in question sat on the credenza in True’s office. Exactly where his brother had left it two days ago. The fact he hadn’t bothered turning it over made True’s cheeks heat. Dammit.

Lonny had asked him just last night if he’d read the story. The wicked gleam in his eyes when he’d said it should have clued True in that his little brother was enjoying a joke at his expense.

“You do know this is gonna complicate things. If we weren’t busy enough after letting go of the seasonal hands, now we have to babysit—”

“She’s not looking for anyone to babysit her, True. Said she wants the privacy to finish up a book.”

True speared him with a glare. “We can’t leave her alone. What the hell does she know about surviving a winter in high country?”

“Probably not any more than the male author you thought you were gettin’.”

True gritted his teeth as Lonny’s mouth stretched into a gleeful smile.

“Tell the truth. You planned on having to check up on Mr. H.A. Cahill. You don’t trust tenderfoots.”

“But I wouldn’t be as worried. If a man’s stupid enough to get himself into trouble out here, it’s a damn shame, but not something I’d lose sleep over. But she’s…” He waved his hand toward the woman hopping down the steps for another load.

Her breasts bounced enticingly, distracting him from what had to be said.

At Lonny’s chuckle, he swung back with a narrowed gaze. “It’s not safe. Does she know she could be shut in for a month? That bears and wolves pretty much think a cabin is a drive-through?”

“The bears are hibernating. She’ll be gone before they stir. And you know wolves are shy of humans.”

“Does she know how to shoot a gun? Dammit, does she even own one?”

Lonny shrugged. “I asked if she needed me to leave one. She gave me a funny look.”

True cursed. “You show her how to light that cantankerous stove?”

“Showed her twice.”

The woman bent, reaching deep to the back floorboard of her car. Her sweater rode up, exposing a set of deep dimples right above her sweetly curved ass.

“Electricity’s bound to go out,” True muttered.

“There’s plenty of gas in the shed for the generator. ’Sides, she said candlelight gets her in the mood.”

True’s gaze swiveled back.

Lonny raised the hand not holding his reins. “For writing her stories. Although gotta wonder myself if she wasn’t talking about more. Her book was damn hot.”

“You thinking to give her inspiration?” True growled, his voice rising.

“Well, she did invite me down for a meal…” At True’s deepening scowl, he flashed a grin. “Out of gratitude. Said when Leroy’s hunting cabin went up in that brushfire her plans for a retreat were all shot to hell. She’s forever in my debt.” He waggled his eyebrows at the last statement.

True looked away, hoping to keep from saying something really nasty, because for whatever reason, the thought of his brother with the curvy woman below made him feel even meaner.

When he glanced back down the hill, his gut clenched. H.A. Cahill had stacked two boxes and was walking slowly toward the porch. The height of her burden was taller than the top of her head.

“Dammit,” he cussed and nudged his horse forward. She was gonna break her neck—and on his property. Sooner he helped her get inside, the sooner he could move on to more important things, like moving the last of the cattle to the box canyon where they’d stay to weather the worst of the winter.

As his horse picked its way down the slope, he kept sending darting glares her way, willing her silently to stay put. The brief thaw they’d experienced the past week had ended. Snow clung to patches of shaded earth, but had melted away everywhere else, leaving mud and slicks of slush. However, today’s cold snap was re-freezing the ground, the roads—the damn steps.

She slowed as she approached the steps, kicking out one booted toe to find them. Then tentatively, she stepped up. His worst fear was realized when she took another step and her foot slid out from under her. She toppled backward to the ground, giving a startled yelp as her boxes opened and the wind carried away pages of paper.

He kicked his horse’s sides, hurrying him down, ignoring the pounding of his brother’s horse behind him.

Before his own palomino came to a full halt beside the woman struggling to sit, he was out of his saddle and glaring down.

Ready to tear into her for her carelessness, he opened his mouth—but a strange thing happened. One look into her cornflower blue eyes, and his breath hitched. The caustic complaint he was about to voice stuck in his throat.

“You must be the brother,” she said breathlessly, her voice impossibly chipper for a woman who looked as though she’d gotten the wind knocked right out of her. “True, right? Your parents…got really creative with…your names,” she gasped. “I like that. Don’t be surprised…if they turn up in a book somewhere.” And then she grinned.

True’s dick hardened in one blazing instant, and he knew with a fatalistic certainty just what kind of books she wrote.

Three Days to Sweeter Than Honey (Contest)

I slept in! That’s why this is late. It’s 8 AM and I’m still yawning, but it’s the good kind, like after you’ve had a very restful night and your body doesn’t quite want to let go… I’ll find a cup of coffee in a minute.

I have a new release coming from Samhain coming next Tuesday, February 10. Actually, it’s a new old release. Sweeter Than Honey was formerly A Taste of Honey and was published in Wild, Wild Women of the West years ago. I spiffed up the tale and sent it off to my editor. And I can’t wait for new readers to find it. It’s a very funny story. If I can laugh through sections I’ve read a million times, you know it’s funny. And it’s sexy. The poor sheriff of an old West Texas town is knocked sideways by a pretty, force-of-nature redhead. You can pre-order your copy at Samhain, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kobo. Did I mention it is set in the town of Two Mule where my Lone Star Lovers live?

Maybe I should remind you I can write funny.

I’m sharing an excerpt from Bad, Bad Girlfriend today, and I’ll give away a free download from that book to one lucky commenter.

“Ms. Devlin will have readers laughing one minute and screaming the next… Bad, Bad Girlfriend is a witty, heart pounding smoking hot read that is a must have.” 5 Angels, Fallen Angels

“Bad, Bad Girlfriend is just plain fun!…” 5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance

“My emotions ran wild while reading Bad, Bad Girlfriend… Don’t miss this mischievous woman’s attempts to secure her man’s love. I had a fantastic time reading Jolie and Gabe’s story.” 5 Silver Dragons, Veiled Secrets Reviews

Expect magic when one determined woman dons a legendary pair of red stilettos and bares body and heart to get her man’s attention…

Jolene’s a big, beautiful woman with an even bigger heart. But she’s become her police officer boyfriend’s favorite doormat and that’s so not working for her. It’s time for a little conversation, time to tell Mr. Happy Pants to “pee or get off the pot”.

Gabriel has seen what his profession does to marriages. He’s not willing to risk that kind of heartbreak. Besides, he likes what he has with Jolene. The woman is sex personified. So when Jolie tells him she won’t see him anymore if he’s not willing to commit, he’s shocked and angry.

With a girlfriend’s encouragement and the added confidence a certain pair of red stilettos gives her, Jolene arranges a special show at a strip club to prove to Gabe once and for all that she’s more woman than any man can handle, and if he doesn’t want the job, then she’ll find another lover who does.

Jolie heard the music, tried to catch the beat, but she’d never been so scared, so embarrassed in her life.

She knew she’d made a huge mistake the minute she’d entered the stripper’s dressing room. Lexie had ushered her in after Guppy, the skinny, bespectacled manager of the strip club, let them in the back door and showed them to the women’s dressing room. She already wore her costume under a tightly belted trench coat, but getting her first up-close look at the other women awaiting their turns on the stage made her lose her nerve.

She turned back toward the exit.

Lexie stood behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. “No you don’t. Not after I paid him a hundred dollars to let you do this!”

“You paid him?”

Lexie shrugged. “He prefers professionals, but he’s not above a bribe.”

“Great. You had to pay him to let me take off my clothes. Get out of my way.”

Lexie’s chin firmed, and her eyes narrowed into the meanest look her friend could manage. “You talked me into this. You convinced me this was a good idea. No way are you going to chicken out now.”

“They’ll laugh at me,” Jolie whispered furiously.

The other women, even the curvier ones, weren’t as well-padded.

One the women nearest them, eyed Jolie in the glass as she applied a wide streak of eyeliner. “We’ve had big girls before. Some of the men prefer ’em. Give it a go, hon.”

Jolie didn’t appreciate the advice and straightened her spine, ready to walk right through Lexie if she didn’t get the hell out of her way.

Lexie lifted her chin. “You want a ring, remember? A commitment. You want him to notice you, know you’re desirable for more than your cupcakes.”

Jolie swallowed, her eyes filling. “I’m scared.”

Lexie’s militant expression softened. “You’ll do fine. In ten minutes, it’ll all be over. And you’ll know whether the shoes were meant for him.”

Jolie nodded slowly. “I couldn’t get the pasties to stick, the adhesive didn’t work on top of the body lotion I applied.”

The stripper eyeing her in the mirror turned and held out her hand. “Give ’em to me. I’ll show you my little trick. Works every time.”

Reluctantly, Jolie pulled the little gold-glittered pasties from the pocket of her coat and handed them to the woman who towered on a pair of platform PVC boots.

“Get out of that coat. Have to show your boobs. It’s just us girls here.”

The other girls laughed, but their smiles seemed friendly enough. Jolie didn’t like being the center of attention and especially didn’t like the fact her “girls” were everyone’s focus, but she opened her coat and let Lexie slide it off her shoulders.

“The bra too. Can’t paste ’em on top of those cones. Nice bra by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said faintly. “The Whip and Tickle had a sale.”

“Name’s Angie,” the redhead said, grinning, “since we’re about to get friendly.”

Jolie’s eyes widened. The woman took a small bottle of glue sitting beside her open makeup case, circled the pasty then twisted it onto Jolie’s boob.

Jolie held her breath, shocked to her core. Her nipple beaded beneath the little circle and the pasty began to fall away.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Angie said. “Happens all the time to me. It’s cold out there.” Angie peeled the pasty off the rest of the way, carried it to her mouth and licked it then twisted it back onto Jolie’s nipple.

Jolie knew she must have earned a ton of bad karma as the women laughed around her.

“They’re just laughing at your expression,” Angie said. “We all have our little tricks for keeping these things hiding the pearlies.”

Jolie suffered through Angie twisting on the second one, and didn’t even blanch when she licked it.

But she didn’t dare give Lexie a glance. She could feel her shaking beside her, clinging to her arm as she got ready to let loose with howls of laughter.

“Just remember,” Jolie clipped, “I know where you live, Lexie Burns.”

“Sorry,” Lexie gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. “You should have seen your face.”

“Yeah, it was pretty funny,” Angie said, her smile stretching. “You’re ready. Get that bra closed. You’re up next. Give that boyfriend hell.”

Lexie tossed Jolie’s coat over the back of a chair and grabbed Jolie’s waist, pushing her out the door and down the corridor toward the side of the stage. The curtains were closed.

Guppy signaled to her from the far side. “Get in the middle and I’ll open ’em up.”

Jolie dug in her heels. Lexie pushed harder, and Jolie couldn’t get the traction she needed with the tiny stiletto tips scraping across the wooden floor. When she was behind the curtain, Guppy gave her a thumbs-up, and Lexie darted back.

The curtains started to open, but Jolie grabbed both sides and held them closed. “Oh hell no.” She’d gotten a glimpse of the crowd when the curtain waved.

The bar was packed. A dozen or more heads and shoulders peering above the edge of the stage. They’d be looking up her ass.

“Let go of the curtain,” Guppy yelled.

Jolie shook her head. “No way in hell.”

Hands slipped over hers. “Let go, Jolie,” Lexie bit out, trying to peel back her fingers. “I paid for ten minutes but you can do five and I won’t even make you pay me back.”

She squeezed Jolie’s hands, but Jolie gripped the fabric tighter.

They stumbled against the curtain, and she felt the curtain give a little from the top.

“You girls tear it down, you’re payin’ for it!” Guppy yelled. “Still got your credit card, missie.”

“Let go!” Lexie growled.

“I changed my mind. Musta lost it. No man’s worth the humiliation.”

“Give…the shoes…a chance.” Lexie dug her fingers under the waistband of Jolie’s shorts in the back and tugged.

“You tryin’ to give me a wedgie?”

“Worked in high school.”

The elastic at the back of her thong popped and Jolie let go to give Lexie a glare when the curtains swished open.

Lexie hid behind the edge as it retreated, leaving Jolie in the center of the stage, pushing the remnants of her thong down her crack. The movement thrust out her chest and the men around the stage began to howl.

Jolie crossed her arms in front to hide herself, but only managed to press more of her boobs over the top of the shiny cups.

“Bump and grind! Bump and grind!” Lexie shouted from the side.

Well, she was already out there in her underwear. What the hell? Jolie closed her eyes and listened for the music again, this time she felt it and took a couple of shaky steps forward. The stage narrowed to a catwalk, lights trimming the edge. Hands reached high, shaking dollar bills. One grabbed her ankle, but she shook him off and continued forward.

She caught a glimpse of two figures closing in from the front of the club, two tall, broad figures wearing dark uniforms.

Dear God, they were here. Gabe’s face was tight, hard. His fists curled. And he was coming fast.

The look on his face shouldn’t have excited her, but it did. She shook back her hair, turned on her heel and shook her ass for the crowd.

“Jolie!”

She heard his shout, but it only served to spur her on. She turned, squatting near a handsome dude whose eyes ate her up as she bounced and leaned forward.

His fingers slid under the edge of her bra and stuffed a dollar in her cleavage. She gave him a wink and glided up, turning to bend over and stare at him between her legs before easing up again, and rolling her hips, popping them to the music.

“Take a twenty!” another man shouted.

She strolled like a runway model, putting a finger in her mouth and standing in front of him to trace a wet path down her belly to the snap of her shorts.

“Show us some more skin!” he shouted, waving that bill.

Jolie gave him a wink, feeling more assured of her attraction, squatted in front of him and leaned forward to get the money. However, he grabbed for her boob, nearly pulling her from the stage.

A bouncer ran up and pulled him back.

Jolie gave Gabe a sideways glance. You see that, baby? Your precious milk-and-cookies mama is gonna start a riot.

She bent toward the man seated next to the one who’d been hauled backward from the stage. He stuffed a cool, crisp twenty into her shorts. She went to her knees and opened the top toggle of her bra.

Shouts and whistles started and she leaned back, smoothing a hand down her belly and back up then opening another latch. One more to go. Would she have the nerve?

“Jolie, don’t do it,” Gabe shouted.

But Gabe didn’t own her ass. Didn’t own her boobs. He hadn’t claimed an inch of her skin.

She opened the last clasp and held the edges closed over her breasts, and slowly rose, walking to the end of the stage right in front of Gabe. With his hot, angry stare locking with hers, she opened her bra wide, flashing the crowd and shaking her glitter-topped tits. Take that, Gabe Devine.

A hand reached up and grabbed for her ankle.

Jolie tried to kick it loose, but the man was rising from his seat. “Come here, baby. Rub those titties on my face.”

She teetered and let out choked scream, falling toward the man. But he flew backward and another set of arms caught her.

Melissa Snark: Loki’s Wolves

Tom Hiddleston’s smirk has nothing to do with my werewolves…

Really.

When I began researching werewolves in January 2010, the movie Thor hadn’t yet been released and wouldn’t be for over a full year. As a would-be paranormal romance and fantasy author, wolves interested me for their extraordinary beauty, intelligence, and grace. I wanted to find some way to put my own unique spin on wolf shifters… Optimistically, that take would produce something fresh and original.

“No story is original.”

As authors, we hear this all the time. Until we’re sick of it. Whether it’s true or not. Yeah, sure, it’s a valid statement but only to a point. Writers struggle to put words on the page in a way that conjures images. Following years of frustration and tears, one of two things happens.

You go mad.
IT suddenly happens.

What is IT? It is the magic of storytelling. Transcendent moments when words become images become scenes become movies playing out in the reader’s mind.

Am I off topic?  Allow me to return to my quest to breathe life into my werewolves. I’ve always had an interest in legends and lore, so it was a natural development when my muse turned to Norse mythology.

Nordic oral tradition tells of a monstrous wolf named Fenrir. He is the son of the Trickster god, Loki, and in turn he is also the sire of the wolves that devour the sun and moon. Fenrir, imprisoned for all time, will break free of his bindings and rise up to swallow Odin whole.

During the tumultuous years that comprise Ragnarök, many tragic events play out. There are many players including Norse gods, monsters, and giants. Wolves happen to play a huge and vital role in the story. So far as epiphanies go, Loki’s Wolves crept up on me gradually until one day I perceive the whole, wonderful vision. And I knew then–that was my story to tell.

Now, I’m struggling to put the stories to paper one word at a time.

My heroine, Victoria Storm, sprung fully formed into my head. She is a priestess of Freya and a Valkyrie to Odin. She’s also a wolf shifter and the head of a pack on the verge of extinction due to a violent conflict with a group of hunters. Her story begins a couple weeks following the violent murder of her lover…

#0 Loki’s Wolves Series

A thirty-year alliance that aligned wolves and hunters has shattered.

Victoria Storm leads a few surviving members of her pack in a desperate flight. As the only surviving child of their leaders, the she-wolf inherited the role of Alpha. The violent deaths of her parents and the man she loved left her devastated, and the lives of her followers depend on her decisions. Simple survival often conflicts with the demands of preserving her Norse heritage, so she must struggle to balance her duties as Freya’s priestess and Odin’s Valkyrie. When innocent children are abducted, she must set aside her differences and work with her worst enemy to rescue them.

ISBN   978-1-942193-05-0

ASIN: B00BWBOQNI

Published:  Jan. 23, 2015

Genre: Urban Fantasy/ Norse & Viking Folklore

99 cents on  Amazon    

Subscribe to Melissa Snark’s newsletter for new releases, prizes, and lots of fun. http://eepurl.com/LteNP (Just copy & paste the link into your browser.) You’ll get a free ebook just for signing up! Author Melissa Snark lives in the San Francisco bay area with her husband, three children, and a glaring of litigious felines. She reads and writes fantasy and romance, and is published with The Wild Rose Press & Nordic Lights Press. She is a coffeeoholic, chocoholic, and a serious geek girl. Her Loki’s Wolves series stems from her fascination with wolves and mythology.

She blogs about books and writing on http://www.thesnarkology.com/. Visit her website at http://www.melissasnark.com/.
Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelissaSnark
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0076EEQIU
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/MelissaSnark