Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 444

Guest Blogger: Jennifer Jakes

When I decided to make the heroine of EDEN’S SIN a prostitute, I found some very interesting facts—and some sad and disgusting facts. Today I wanted to give you a peek into life for a

“working girl” in the 1800’s Old West.

Miss Kitty Lied

Oh, Miss Kitty, how you deceived us all. Remember Gunsmoke and Sheriff Matt Dillon’s main squeeze? Perfect silk dress, perfectly styled red curls – perfect beauty mark. How clean and wonderful the life of a Wild West saloon girl must have been. . .

*insert sound of screeching brakes here*

Um, no. Let’s look at some facts. In descending order there were: Parlor Houses, Brothels, Cribs. Even in a Parlor House *think 5 star hotel* where a night of food, fun and the other “F” word might cost a man $200+, the girl only averaged $10 per week because of the cut the Madam (or the house) took the rest to cover the costs of food, wine and the girl’s room and board.

Brothel girls could make $2.50 – $7.00 per customer, but she had to pay room and board out of this plus any other expenses she had. Oh, and Brothels were significantly less grand than a Parlor House. Parlor houses the girl probably spent the entire night with one man and her sheets were changed afterward. Brothel girls saw more “traffic” and her sheets might be changed once per week.

Cribs were a closet-like space where the girls lived and worked. She would rent this room for $10-$20 per week. She charged a man as little as 25 cents depending on how dirty or run-down she and/or her crib was. Her profit was in volume. In a cattle or mining town, she would little more than stay in bed as the men lined up outside her door. Normally, a crib nymph would see 20 to 30 men per night. During a cattle drive, she could see as many as 75 to 100 men per night. And no clean sheets here. She put a rain slicker over the bottom of her bed to protect the sheets from mud and cow manure since the cowboy might take off his hat, but not his boots or pants. Volume, remember?

Yes, there were Saloon Girls who could just serve drinks, but they could also “go upstairs” for extra money. And Dance Hall Girls, yes, they were there, earning 12 ½ cents per dance. But all in all after researching this topic, I have to say, Miss Kitty lied to us. What do you think?

*All statistics were found in UPSTAIRS GIRLS: Prostitution in the American West by Michael Rutter

THANK YOU for stopping by today!

Jennifer Jakes is the author of sensual erotic romance. Her award-winning debut novel, RAFE’S REDEMPTION, a historical western, is #1 Kindle Best Seller, as did her novella, TWICE IN A LIFETIME.

Her latest release, EDEN’S SIN, is now available at Amazon.

RAFE’S REDEMPTION : Amazon  |  TWICE IN A LIFETIME Amazon

Find out more about Jennifer at www.jenniferjakes.com

Guest Blogger: Sharon Hamilton

What would you do with a SEAL under the covers?

I know Delilah’s fans and readers could imagine quite a lot of things one could do with a SEAL under the covers. My new book makes a play on this fantasy, but is about a Puerto Rican born Navy SEAL, Armando Guzman, and his hot love affair with the attractive Gina Mancuso, who is actually an undercover cop, working the gang unit in San Diego.

I wanted to show a SEAL who had not always been a good boy. In fact, he had a rocky start in life, growing up in a rough environment in East L.A., running with a gang at one time. Through twists of fate, he eventually found his way into the loving arms of the U.S. Navy, where he tried out for and made the Teams. He qualified expert and became a SEAL sniper, one of the best of the very best. With that also comes some baggage: brothers in arms lost, innocent civilians paying a price they should not have to pay. The things that make wars so horrible for everyone, but things these guys have a ringside seat for.

As with all the SEALs in my Brotherhood series, these men are heavily trained to react to anything and improvise when needed. They are trained to make decisions based on calculations of outcome, assessing targets, risks and the environment. They even learn to train their emotions so that they are as little a factor as possible. Who can forget the scene in Act of Valor when the SEAL falls on the live grenade, sacrificing himself to save his buddies?

But coming home, their equipment and training does little to save them from the complexities of the female personality and the SEAL’s excruciating need of their companionship. These are guys who need intense physical sex without commitment. But their innate sense of right and wrong needles them about this on so many levels.

I love writing about these kinds of tugs of war going on inside the Alpha Male psyche. Part of what makes a good military romance is that the hero can be counted on to do the right thing almost all the time. He may make an honest mistake, but he has an internal moral code that will not allow him to go beyond certain lines.

Sometimes these heroes don’t know where that line is until they run smack up to it.

Here’s an excerpt from SEAL Under Covers, which is now available on Amazon:

“Do I have a choice?” she said to him, watching that smirky little smile and sexy eyes making fun of her while her heart did flip-flops. She’d been close to peeing on herself while she sat and watched her ex-boyfriend nearly call out the brother—the SEAL brother of the woman they were working. It had been wrong on so many levels, even the Pope couldn’t dish out enough forgiveness.

“Get in.” It was a command that made her tense, but the smile he flashed afterwards made her panties wet. Suddenly her ankles wobbled and she nearly fell, which would have been totally uncool. And damn, but if he didn’t reach out and put a strong, muscled arm around to steady her. He let her go after he gave her one hurried squeeze, just tight enough for her to learn he was aroused.

Another footnote to a perfectly fucked evening. Her mission was nearly blown. Why did she feel guilty for that? They were supposed to be hanging out with the gang by the stage. Well, she couldn’t help it if Sam and the rest of the crew had decided to pull a game change on her. As she slid onto the torn leather seat of the old truck, she smiled at the recollection. It had been damned satisfying, slapping Sam and tossing the drink into his face. She’d stared right back at him when he showed his anger. And she didn’t flinch or cower this time. She was filled with pride. She’d stood up to him, finally!

But now what? On any other evening, getting into a truck with a SEAL would be a no-brainer. Nothing wrong with a night of sex with a hot guy, if that was where he was headed. She wasn’t completely sure, but she wasn’t that rusty that she couldn’t recognize a good, clean come-on. The fact that he was the brother of their party of interest and it was totally forbidden only heightened her anticipation. But decisions like that were never good ones. She had to put a stop to this somehow.

Tell that to my body. She watched him walk around the front of the vehicle and, yes, she squeezed her eyes shut and imagined him naked.

Get a grip, Gina. As much as she hated to admit it, something about the man set her insides on fire. He was all the right kinds of dangerous for her. A hero. Breathtakingly good-looking in that Latin Lover way she loved in men. Shiny black hair worn a little too long. Tanned complexion with just a hint of stubble. Body well honed and disciplined. He knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. And he loved his sister, which was the biggest heart-snag of all.

He got in the driver seat, slammed the rickety door closed and sighed.

Did all the air just get sucked out of the truck? It seemed like minutes as she watched him blankly stare through the windshield, his face illuminated by the red tail lights of Mia’s vehicle, now pulling away in front of them. Those dark eyes with long lashes and succulent, full lips. She shouldn’t have stared so long, but she couldn’t help it.

He tilted his head and turned in her direction. The eyes didn’t lie. He had the fire inside that his sister had, but in all the right places, not the wrong ones, like Mia. She let him appreciate the red fuzzy dress with the scoop neckline. She didn’t care if her chest got blotchy with nerves or if her cheeks flushed. And, of course, her nipples perked right up

“So how is this going to work?” he said. The words slid out like satin sheets.

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean,” she heard herself say in response. She made a point to beat the waver from her voice.

“I take you to your place, or to Mia’s?”

“Mia’s.”

“Your car there?”

“No, I took a cab.”

“And so how would you get home?”

“You assume I want to go home. Maybe I’m going to stay over.”

“I don’t see a pajama bag.”

The crease at the side of his mouth dimpled and she watched the tip of his tongue running across his bottom lip. The words, “pajama bag” had never sounded so sexy.

She stuck her chin out, looking back at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and whispered, “I don’t wear pajamas.”

It was a dare. She watched him explore her face, roving from her eyes to her hair, her cheekbones, her ears. His gaze paused on her lips as his parted and he moved closer, and then stopped.

Damn. It wasn’t wise, but she knew he wasn’t going to touch her unless she met him halfway. Her hesitation forced another smile from him as he waited, looking at her with the come-on-little-one-you-know-you-want-to look. And double damn, she was all in.

 Sharon’s Amazon Bestselling Navy SEAL stories in the SEAL Brotherhood series have consistently made best sellers lists and review sites. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love.

Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany are not like any vamps you’ve read before, since they don’t go to ground and can walk around in the full light of the sun.

Her Guardian Angels struggle with the human charges they are sent to save, often escaping their vanilla world of Heaven for the brief human one. You won’t find any of these beings in any Sunday school class.

She lives in Sonoma County, California with her husband, and two Dobermans. A lifelong organic gardener, when she’s not writing, she’s getting vera vera dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmer’s Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers.

Sharon Hamilton

Life is one fool thing after another.

Love is two fool things after each other.

Sharon’s Blog ** Sharon’s Website ** Facebook**Twitter

Guest Blogger: Meg Benjamin

Animals and Ghosts

Most of my books have pets in them—or at least animals of some kind. I don’t really plan to include them. They just sort of sneak up on me. Dogs, cats, chickens, I’ve had them all wandering through one or another of my books. But when I wrote my paranormal Ramos Family trilogy for Berkley InterMix, the situation was a little different. I wasn’t sure how I’d work an animal into a series about a family of mediums, most of whom were reluctant to take advantage of their supernatural connections.

The first book in the trilogy, Medium Well, didn’t have any normal beasties hanging around, although a ghost cat provided some significant information to the hero and heroine. But the second, Medium Rare, more than makes up for it. My medium, Rose Ramos, ends up sharing her house (haunted, of course) with a couple of spirit animals that adopt her after some traumatic events.

This in turn led to some interesting problems in creating these animals. How would a pet hellhound behave, for example? What does it eat (besides people)? What kind of leash would you use? Where would it sleep? Do hell hounds sleep?

To make things more interesting, I made Helen (the hellhound) invisible to everyone except the heroine and her hero boyfriend—although being a thorough-going skeptic, he doesn’t catch on to that fact for much of the book. Helen is joined later on by a similarly invisible raven, but my heroine decides having spirit animals around isn’t any tougher than dealing with the supernatural guest she’s already got in residence—a several-hundred-years-old ghost who’s been part of her family for generations.

In Medium Rare, ghosts come in all sizes and shapes, some of them scary and some of them not so much. But at least a couple of them are of the house pet variety. And what do you feed a hellhound? Pretty much anything she wants, as it turns out.

Here’s a quick excerpt showing Helen’s arrival:

Suddenly, she heard the sound of paws galloping along the driveway, monstrous claws clicking on the asphalt. She fumbled for the key she kept in the old mailbox at the door, jamming it into the lock and twisting for all she was worth.

Close behind her, something yipped as she shoved the front door open, half falling through, trying to shove it closed with her shoulder. A large heavy projectile struck her chest with the force of a missile, blowing the door wide and throwing her down full-length just inside. She looked up into an immense mouth full of yellowing fangs. Threads of drool hung a few inches from her face.

She tried to twist away, pulling as far back as she could beneath the dog’s weight. Dread clenched her stomach as she closed her eyes. “Ohgodohgodohgod.”

“Rose!” Skag’s voice echoed through the hall. “That’s a hellhound. Stay absolutely still! Do not move!”

She couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it, which, of course, it probably did. The dog’s huge paws still held her shoulders flat against the floor. Its breath blew hot against her cheeks, smelling of old meat and open graves. She struggled to breathe under its weight, tensing for the moment it would clamp its teeth on her throat. She heard the faint creak of its jaws as they opened wider.

And then something large, damp, and utterly disgusting swiped across her cheeks.

She peeked through her lashes up into the dog’s face. Glowing orange eyes stared back as the animal prepared to lick her again.

Here’s the blurb for Medium Rare:

There are no skeletons in her closet…only ghosts

Rose Ramos was a reference librarian, until she inherited her grandmother’s house—and the family talent for connecting with the other side…

Moving into the lovely Victorian in San Antonio’s King William District is a dream come true for Rose—and also a nightmare. That’s the only explanation she has for the man hovering above her bed. But Skag is a ghost who’s been part of Rose’s family for generations. And now he’s all hers.

When Evan Delwin, a reporter out to debunk the city’s newest celebrity, posts an ad looking for a research assistant to investigate a famous medium making his home in San Antonio, Skag suggests that Rose apply for the job. Delving into the dark side has its own dangers for Rose—including trying to resist Delwin’s manly charms. But as the investigation draws them closer together, the deadly currents surrounding the medium threaten to destroy them all…

Buy Links

Amazon | Barnes and Noble

Meg Benjamin writes contemporary romance for Samhain Publishing and paranormal romance for Berkley InterMix. Her books have won an EPIC Award for Contemporary Romance, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the New England Romance Writers Beanpot Award, and the Holt Medallion among other honors. Meg lives in Colorado.

Her Web site is http://www.MegBenjamin.com, and her blog is http://megbenj1.wordpress.com/. You can follow her on Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at meg@megbenjamin.com.

Guest Blogger: Karen Stivali

Thank you, Delilah, for giving me the opportunity to guest blog and dish about my strange writing companion—my cat, BadKitteh.

I often get asked the typical “where do you write?” question. I don’t have an exciting answer. I write at my tiny cluttered built-in kitchen desk in the middle of my kitchen. I like being able to multi-task while I write. That way I can cook dinner, bake brownies, be close to the front door in case the door bell rings and close to the laundry room in case I remember to do a load of wash. Also, if I wasn’t in the room where all the food is, I’d often be too busy to remember to eat. Since I’m in the kitchen it’s easy to grab a snack. Although my most frequent snack is chocolate, I try to have the pretense of eating healthy, so at least once a day I’ll grab a piece of fruit….which leads me to the disclosure most people find baffling: My cat loves fruit.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter have likely long seen me posting about BadKitteh. He’s my twenty pound Maine coon cat. He’s got the personality of a dog. He’s deaf but talks constantly and, probably because he can’t hear what he’s saying, he makes sounds most cats never utter—lots of R’s and W’s and K’s—he often sounds like Dory speaking whale. And he doesn’t believe in personal boundaries. He will fall asleep with his head in my purse, stick his face in any glass anyone leaves anywhere (then drink from it, then knock it over), and he ALWAYS steals my fruit.

When we first brought BadKitteh home from the pound seven years ago we thought he was just a normal cat. He looked like a cat. How were we to know? Sure it was a little weird that he greeted all of our guests at the door and that he licked the feet of every woman who entered our house, but hey, who am I to judge? One day I bought a container of raspberries, rinsed them off in a little colander and set them on the kitchen table. I left the room for a few minutes and returned to find BadKitteh standing on one of the kitchen chairs, head in the colander and only a few berries left. I’ve had cats all my life. I’d never seen one eat a raspberry. I thought it was weird but I figured it was just a single quirk. Wrong.

Over the course of that summer it became apparent that he wasn’t just a raspberry fan. No matter what fruit I eat—plums, nectarines, apples, cherries, blueberries, grapes, watermelon, cantaloupe, honeydew, kiwis—he will bat at my hands until I give him some. When he’s really determined he’ll swat it out of my hand. He’s occasionally pulled grapes out of grocery bags before I’ve gotten them in the fridge or stolen them out of the fruit bin in the fridge if I leave it open for too long.

***Hello readers. Karen has stepped away to start dinner. There doesn’t appear to be any fruit involved, so I’m going to take a moment to correct some things in this post. It’s so hard to type on her keyboard because she writes so much she’s worn all the letters off the keys. Lucky for me, I touch type. I have to say, I don’t know why she insists on calling me BadKitteh. I mean, I never actually hear her saying it, but does she seriously think I don’t read her Tweets? Besides, I’m really quite well behaved. Sure, I threw up in her tote bag once. None of her shoes were around. What was I supposed to do? Use the floor? I know she secretly enjoys sharing her fruit with me. Sure she shakes her head and scowls the whole time, but I know that’s just an act. Humans. They’re so moody and hard to train. I really just…oh, wait….there’s no fruit but she’s making a salad! I see a cucumber! And lettuce! Gotta go!***

See what I mean? No boundaries. None. He’s lucky he’s so cute. So, tell me (and BadKitteh, since you know he’ll read the replies the moment I step away from my desk)—what weird, quirky habits make your pet unique? Tell us all their secrets. You know they’d tell us yours!

Latest release: DECADENCE (cover photo attached separately)

In eight years of marriage, Eric Carlson has never forgotten to kiss his wife Jessica goodbye—until this morning. As Jessica runs her errands, all she can think about is the missing kiss.

When Eric calls to tell her he thinks he left the toaster oven on, she rushes home, annoyed and afraid their house may be burning down. Instead of smoke and flames she finds Eric, looking hot and sexy as hell as he prepares fresh waffles.

Eric knows he and Jessica have been drifting apart. He’s bought the hot new product everyone’s talking about—the Spice Rack, guaranteed to spice up your love life. The jar he opens advises them to “Spend a decadent day indulging all your senses.” With the whole day ahead of them, a fridge full of tempting treats and the house to themselves for a change, that’s exactly what Eric intends to do—in the kitchen, on the washing machine, wherever the mood strikes. And Jessica’s got a super-steamy surprise for him too.

What reviewers are saying about Decadence:

“Sweet, erotic and very satisfying.” ~ 5 stars and a Top Pick from The Romance Reviews

“A fun, hot story that made steam rise off my e-reader.” ~ 5 stars and a Top Pick from Night Owl Reviews

*~*~*~*~*

Karen Stivali is a prolific writer, compulsive baker and chocoholic with a penchant for books, movies and fictional British men. She writes erotic romance, contemporary romance and women’s fiction for Ellora’s Cave, Samhain Publishing and Turquoise Morning Press, respectively.

“If you haven’t read a book by Karen Stivali then you are missing out on a wonderful writer of contemporary romance.” ~ GUILTY PLEASURES BOOK REVIEWS

“Karen Stivali is a mastermind at creating compelling, entertaining stories that have grit, depth, genuine, charismatic characters, fluid, believable dialogue, and emotional entanglements that will keep the reader engrossed from beginning to end.” BLACKRAVEN REVIEW

“Karen Stivali’s books are sweet and decadent and leave you hungering for more and more. Everything she writes is like chocolate on paper.” ~Tiffany Reisz, author of the Original Sinner series from Mira Books

For more information about current and upcoming projects please visit her website: http://karenstivali.com

Karen can also be found on:

Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | AllRomanceEbooks

Guest Blogger: N.J. Walters

Double or Nothing!

Ménage a trois and cowboys.

Hello! *waving* Remember me?

I think I lost you all for a moment as your mind wandered off, no doubt engrossed in the possibilities. All that naked flesh coming together, hard chests, broad shoulders, sculpted muscles, lips touching, hands stroking, limbs entwining, soft moans…

Ahem! Sorry about that. Where was I?

Oh, yes, ménage a trois and cowboys. That’s a winning combination. After all, who doesn’t love a cowboy, a man who gets his rock-hard body from demanding physical labor and sweat. There’s something elemental about a man who works the land and doesn’t punch a time clock, a man with old-fashioned values who believes right is right and wrong is just plain wrong. Sure that old-fashioned machismo can be annoying at times to a modern woman, but there’s something reassuring about knowing this man will always have your back.

Now, what’s better than one cowboy? Two, of course.

Wesson and Remington Smith are brothers who are determined not to let Cherry Edmonds, the woman they’ve both hungered for over the past ten years, to slip away now that’s she’s come back to Texas. The problem is there’s no real tactful way to bring up the fact they both want to sleep with her.

That brings us to the ménage a trois part. How does a modern woman come to grips with the idea that two hot cowboys both want her. It’s enough to blow any sane woman’s mind. Sure it might be okay for a night or two, but what’s going to happen when both men want to make it permanent? How can that work without  at least one brother feeling shut out? It’s just crazy. Right?

Or is it…

That’s the premise for Double or Nothing, my latest release from Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

After ten years away from home, Cherry Edmonds returns to West Texas when her father is ill and dying. Now she is left to deal with the estate and pick up the pieces of her life. The past is waiting for her in the form of Wesson and Remington Smith, the two brothers she was half in love with when she was eighteen.

Wes and Remy know they’re different from most men. They are both in love with Cherry and have been since they were kids. One night of hot sex leaves all of them wanting more, but she believes their time together is just a one-night stand. It’s up to the Smith brothers to prove their love for Cherry and their commitment to the ménage, and to convince Cherry’s she’s definitely capable of loving two Texas cowboys.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Buy from Ellora’s Cave

N.J. has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

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Snippet Saturday: Smooth Operator

Just a quick note! My dd gave birth to a baby girl yesterday. Everything went well. Mom and little girl will be in the hospital for a couple of days. Siobhán Etaine is 7 lbs. 11 oz. and gorgeous! I’ll be back at the hospital, and then staying with the family to help out for a couple of weeks. I got the privilege of changing her first diaper.

Back to the snippet. I don’t usually write smooth operators. My heroes tend to be gruff and to the point, but there have been a couple… Quentin from My Immortal Knights and Nicolas Mountfalcon from the Dark Realm series. I adore them both, and so did readers.

Nicolas makes his first appearance in book 1, Into the Darkness, and although he was a secondary character there, he made quite an impression. I think you will see why when you read the excerpt.

“Ms Devlin has created a suspenseful masterpiece against the back drop of the impending Hurricane Katrina. Her characters are passionately and elegantly written and the plot is full of twists that keep you turning the page.” ~5 Stars, Single Titles

“…INTO THE DARKNESS starts off running and never lets up…From its intriguing and twisted storyline, in-depth and well-written characters, to the torrid sex scenes, INTO THE DARKNESS is a must read for those paranormal lovers who love to live on the edge.” ~Romance Reviews Today

“In a field of plenty, Ms. Devlin cut a new vein in the paranormal/vampire genre with INTO THE DARKNESS. [...] An amazing blend of storytelling smothered in carnal ferocity…” ~Paranormal Romance Reviews

Natalie Lambert’s life has changed in the space of weeks — and she has no idea why. Her parents were murdered, she has her first taste of sexual desire — and she feels out of control, afraid, desperate to understand her changing world. She flees to New Orleans , hoping to lure the murderer out of the dark and bring to an end the trail of dead loved ones. Instead, she’s attacked by crazed birds, swarmed by locusts, and saved by a Cajun cop who awakens all her latent desires.

When Rene Broussard rescues a virgin vampire, he ends up in her bed and becomes hers for life in one lusty bite. Rene awakens the vampire within Natalie, and she awakes the passion within him. Together, they fight the evil threatening to destroy The Born vampires amidst the horror of Hurricane Katrina while they discover a treasure of love they can share for all eternity.

A crunch sounded outside—a crisp scrape like a footstep on grit. A sound Natalie knew was distant, perhaps from the courtyard below the window, but it jerked her awake in an instant just the same.

And just as quickly, she knew something wasn’t right.

The sound might have been the rustle of drying leaves as they tumbled across the paving stones or a small animal slipping between the iron bars of the gate, but she knew that wasn’t true.

She no longer questioned how she knew—she accepted the prickling warning the same way she did the fact she was a vampire. Instinctually.

The hairs on the back of her neck lifted and alarm tensed her muscles, readying her for flight.

Only she wasn’t the same frightened girl she’d been before tonight. Now, she’d gained a measure of personal power. She was becoming a monster in her own right.

And she had Rene.

Only he wasn’t here, now. His musky scent lingered in the bedroom, clung to the pillow beneath her nose, but he’d been gone for some time.

Was he aware of the furtive movements outside his house? Had he left to investigate? Or had he tried to escape her once again?

She couldn’t afford to wait for him to come to her rescue. This time, she’d be ready for whatever stepped out of the shadows. Refusing to huddle beneath the covers, she slipped from the bed and crept to the French window.

Standing to the side of the casing, she pulled back the edge of the hazy curtain and stared into the darkened courtyard below.

At first, it appeared empty. Wind whipped the tops of the short trees, stirring the leaves into an agitated whisper.

If she’d blinked, she might have missed the blurred gray shadows that streaked across the tiny courtyard.

Holding her breath, she willed her heart to slow its frantic beating so she could continue to listen above the rapid tattoo. Then she padded to her suitcase lying open on a small padded bench beside the door. She reached beneath wadded clothing until her fingers closed around the hard plastic grip of her handgun.

As she pulled it out, she felt a cool, fresh breeze lick across her bare skin and knew the window to the balcony had opened.

Natalie whipped around with the weapon pointing outward to find a large male figure silhouetted by moonlight between the open doors. Not Rene’s thickly muscled frame. This man was taller and leaner, with midnight hair that brushed the tops of his broad shoulders. His clothing was crisp-edged—a long-sleeved shirt covered with a thickly padded vest, topping military style pants and boots. A holster rode along the side of one masculine thigh.

With her finger poised on the trigger, she drew a shaky breath. “You really should have tried the front door.”

His head canted, and she realized that while his features were hidden in darkness, her pale skin was a beacon.

“I seem to have you at a disadvantage,” he replied, French undertones cloaking his voice in silk. His tone was amused, his posture disturbingly relaxed.

“So, I’m naked,” she blurted, “but I’m the one with the gun in my hand.”

A soft snort indicated laughter, which only heightened her fear. “Even if you managed to hit where you’re aiming, you can’t win this battle, Natalie.”

A shiver racked her body. “I’ll manage just fine, but you might have a little problem finding me without a head attached to your shoulders.”

This time the laughter sifted around her like a soft, dusting of confectioner’s sugar—delicious, light, tempting.

And before she could pull back on the 5.5-pound trigger, he was beside her, his hand wrapping around hers on the weapon. “Let go.”

She whimpered from fear and a sudden, dampening thrill. “How?” she croaked, as curious about the speed with which he’d moved as she was afraid and aroused.

“I’m not going to hurt you, mon infant.” He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her back, then leaned down to nuzzle her cheek. “Just let go.”

Her body betrayed her. But unlike the powerful lust that had driven her to take Rene past his good intentions, a strange, enervating lassitude had her leaning into his solid chest.

Had he done this to her with just his voice?

He tipped the nozzle of her weapon down and dragged it from her nerveless fingers. “There,” he said, “no fuss. You’re a brave girl.” His chest rose beneath her cheek as he drew a deep breath. “And a naughty one, it seems. Good for you.”

Was this how her friend Vicki had felt the moment before her throat had been ripped open? Resigned, relieved—willing to let death come without so much as a whimper?

But she wasn’t ready to die. Not tonight.

With one last attempt to resist, she rallied her dulled wits and shoved at his chest, lifting one knee to ram between his legs.

He easily sidestepped her attack, then slipped a hard thigh between hers and pushed her against the wall, trapping her hands against his chest. One large hand gently cradled the back of her head; the other still held her weapon. He drew the cold metal slowly up her naked side, over her hip, letting it bump against each rib, one by one, and then follow the outside curve of her breast.

Natalie drew a ragged breath, knowing she was entirely at his mercy. The odd thing was all she could concentrate on was the rasp of the coarse fabric that clothed the muscled thigh pressed against her sensitive, heated flesh and the fresh-washed scent of the man holding her. “What have you done to me?” she asked, recognizing the familiarity of the words. Now she knew how Rene had felt. Compelled beyond his will to respond.

She sensed his smile against her cheek. “Just a trick. One I promise to teach you…if you’re good.”

The teasing note in his voice calmed her. His hand gripped her hair and he tilted her head to kiss her lips, then he released her hair.

She heard the rasp of Velcro opening and felt the sting of something sharp stabbing into her neck. She whimpered, but curved her fingertips into the stiff vest cloaking his chest and clung to him as darkness closed around her.

***

Rene prowled the house, sticking to the downstairs rooms this time. He’d checked his cell phone again and left Chessa a blistering message. What the hell was keeping her anyway?

Although his body still felt mildly drugged by his roll in the sheets with Natalie, his emotions felt edgy and alert. Standing at the sink in the kitchen, he ran cool water to wash his face—anything to stem the heat building again inside him.

He cupped water in his hands and stared at his palms, remembering the feel of her soft breasts with their erect little points. He muttered an oath and splashed the water into his face. If he dunked his whole head beneath the spigot, he still wouldn’t clear the image or the feelings from his mind.

He was mad as hell at himself—and Chessa. She hadn’t given him adequate warning. Partners didn’t leave partners swingin’ in the wind.

If he’d known what he faced, the potent, irresistible temptation she embodied, he might have stood a chance of deflecting Natalie’s allure—hell, he’d have tied a knot in his cock sooner than fuck a vampire!

Sweet as she’d been, he didn’t need that kind of trouble. Worse, he couldn’t trust that what he was starting to feel for her was real.

But what exactly was he feeling? Desire? Certainly. Lust? Absolutely. Connection? That possibility terrified him. Natalie was quickly becoming an obsession.

He poured a glass of water and took a long drink, hoping the coolness slipping down his throat would somehow halt his body’s arousal.

Even now, she lay naked in his bed. Moonlight bathed her curved body. The lemon and apple smell of her still scented the air—still clung to his own skin. He’d fled the room before the musky scent of sex overwhelmed him, hardened him—again.

Earlier, moonlight had revealed his deepest fear. Natalie’s eyes had glittered with longing and trust. That had been the scariest thing of all. Not that she was a vampire, but that she trusted him to keep her safe and not betray her heart.

He just plain couldn’t give her what she wanted.

A floorboard creaked behind him and he caught Chessa’s reflection in the darkened window above the sink. She was dressed in SWAT gear. “It’s about damn time you got back here,” he growled. He placed the glass on the countertop and turned in time to catch Chessa’s downward-sweeping glance.

His cheeks heated. Wearing only blue jeans and his shoulder holster, he knew she’d jumped to all the right conclusions as her lips thinned.

When her glance met his again, the stillness in her set his heart thudding with unease.

Then he heard footsteps coming through the hallway and saw several men dressed entirely in black, walking quietly through his house and up the stairs. He pushed away from the counter. “What the hell’s goin’ on, Chessa?”

She glanced briefly over her shoulder and then turned slowly back toward him. “We’re taking her out of here.”

“Let me go up to wake her. You’re gonna scare her.”

Her lips tightened. “And you’d care, wouldn’t you?”

He heard a muffled whimper from above and stepped toward the doorway.

Chessa stuck out her arm, blocking his exit.

Close enough now that he could have pushed past her, he glared down into her face. “Chessa…”

“You can’t help her now, partner.” Her head tilted slightly. “Damn you, you can’t even help yourself. You fucked her.” She inhaled, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed. “Hell, you reek of sex. You couldn’t keep away, could you?”

She didn’t sound angry—which he would have preferred. Instead, he read disappointment and resignation in her tone.

Feeling off-center and ashamed, he retorted, “You could have told me what I was facin’—spelled it out so this human would understand. Cheech, she was fuckin’ irresistible.”

“And now?” she said, her sharp gaze roaming his face. “What do you feel now?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Not a goddamn thing.”

Another rustling sound came from above, and then a thin cry. He pressed against her arm.

“You need to let me handle this.” Her eyes narrowed and seemed to catalog every twitch he made that gave away his concern.

Rene fought against the overpowering need to surge past her and up the stairs. This was Chessa’s business now, but he sure as hell hated not knowing what was happening.

“Did you come inside her?” Chessa asked, her voice dead even.

His gaze slid away from hers. He refused to answer. The shame burning his cheeks told her what she wanted to know.

“Of course, you did.” She reached into a pocket on the top of her Kevlar vest and pulled out a syringe.

He eyed it warily and stepped back. “What the fuck’s that for and what are they doin’ up there?”

“We don’t want her alarmed. Or harmed. So we’re going to put her out for transportation.”

“Are they stickin’ her now?” he asked, anger stiffening his spine.

“Yeah, and this one’s for you.” She shoved her forearms into his chest, slamming him against the wall.

Rene roared and pushed back, but for the first time, he experienced the strength in her wiry muscles that could take down a linebacker. It happened so fast, he didn’t have time to consider another strategy. He tried to pull back, but for the second time that night, he wasn’t the one in control.

Her whole body strained against him, and she used one elbow to press into his neck so hard his vision quickly filled with prickling lights.

Her hand shot out, and she jabbed the syringe into his neck.

He pulled at her arm, but his already sapping strength was fleeing. His muscles felt more leaden by the moment.

As he found himself slipping to the floor, he heard Chessa mutter, “Dammit Rene, you really fucked up this time.”

***

Chessa rode in the back of the panel truck.

Both Rene and Natalie, wrapped in sheets, lay in the center of the floor between the long bench seats flanking either side of the vehicle, snuggled close together.

The sight rankled.

“You don’t look happy. Everything went according to plan.”

She heard mockery in the voice of the man sitting across from her and wished Nicolas had chosen to ride in the vehicle with the rest of the security team. These two weren’t waking up anytime soon—she didn’t need help.

Worse, she hated his sharp-eyed perception. He’d read her interest as she’d cradled Rene’s body on the floor and tenderly pulled out the needle from his neck after she’d shot him up with enough sedative to keep him down for the rest of the night.

“So, we have a baby vamp. That’s cause for celebration, is it not?”

She leveled a glare at him, knowing he was only making conversation to annoy her. Her mind was still reeling, and she needed time to think. She’d taken a risk leaving Natalie with Rene, but she’d hoped he would be strong enough to resist her hormonal appeal.

Chessa’d had plans of her own for the Cajun. Four years of sussing out his strengths and weaknesses to determine whether he would be the right sort of man to enter her life. Four years of yearning for his hard, toned body, patiently learning the secrets that kept him from committing to a woman.

She’d been kidding herself there would ever be a time for them. He’d never really let her close, never shared the intimate details of his life.

Sure, they’d spent half their waking lives in each other’s company. But she couldn’t claim to really know him.

However, she did know he didn’t particularly like preternatural creatures. He distrusted what he couldn’t explain. Over time, he’d come to tolerate her well, despite the fact she had a second strike against her.

Rene hadn’t wanted a female partner of any kind. Ever.

It had taken deliberately choreographed incidents to prove her physical abilities. Without revealing the true extent of her powers, she’d cultivated a relationship with him built on mutual respect. Eventually, he’d come to trust she wouldn’t let him down or get in his way.

Tonight had dashed her hopes he’d ever see her as a potential lover. After this, he’d have eyes only for Natalie.

Over the years, she’d taken lovers for blood and sex, but she’d carefully avoided entanglement. Although the hurt that kept her heart apart and untouched was decades old, she’d been unwilling to risk it again.

Until Rene.

Despite his sometimes coarse manner, at the core he was a gentleman with a deep streak of integrity she admired. More than once she’d wished she had found someone like him for her life mate the first time around.

The truck slowed and bumped onto a gravel road.

“Almost home,” Nicolas murmured. “Time to get these two to bed. Sure you know whose bed you want to him tied to?”

The sly humor in his voice set her teeth on edge while his words conjured a vision that pricked her sensual awareness, making her shift on the thinly padded seat.

The thought of Rene stretched across pale sheets, his hands and feet in manacles, tightened her body and sent a flush of heat across her cheeks.

Nicolas tsked. “He’s not for you, but maybe you’d settle for something else, eh chère?”

Chessa stiffened and lifted her chin. “Why? You offering?”

A single eyebrow rose like a dark wing. “I’m not nearly so brave as that.”

“You think a man needs courage to be with me?”

His glance swept down her body, and he lifted his shoulders in an indolent shrug. “I think he needs many things to take you on. Courage is only one of them.”

Chessa snorted. “That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“Just telling the truth.” He tilted his head toward the floor. “Our baby girl’s a lot like you. She’s got courage in spades. She’s not even fully cooked, and she tried to take me.”

Chessa didn’t want to hear about any virtues Natalie Lambert might possess. She was ready to hate the woman’s guts. “Sounds like a fool to me,” she muttered.

When his smile widened, she realized she’d given him exactly what he wanted. She bit back a curse at his soft laughter.

“I think it’s a very good thing, you’re not the one charged with her safety.”

“I know my duty,” she bit out.

His smile dimmed, and his gaze bored into hers. “Yes, but you have yet to learn your place.”

Pure, intoxicating fury blasted through her. “And where might that be?”

The white flash of his wicked smile had her wishing she’d bit her tongue rather than rise to his bait. “Princess, if I have to tell you, you’re not ready for the answer.”

His laser wit always had a way of flaying her self-control. Just once, she wished her temper wouldn’t flare so readily in response to his jibes.

She’d give anything to be on the sticking end of the skewer. “Shut the fuck up, Nic.”

 

* * * * *

Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:

Lauren Dane

Caris Roane

Eliza Gayle

Lissa Matthews

McKenna Jeffries

Shiloh Walker

Taige Crenshaw

HelenKay Dimon

Guest Blogger: A. Catherine Noon & Rachel Wilder

Hobbies and Obsessions

A. Catherine Noon here.  Thank you to Delilah Devlin for inviting Rachel Wilder and I back for a guest post.  We’re pleased as punch to be back at Chez Delilah for some summer fun!

I got to thinking about summer, and fun, and Delilah (no, no, nothing like that), and on her Facebook page she periodically shares photos of some lovely jewelry that she makes when she’s not writing the books we know and love.  I do something similar in terms of my knitting hobby (obsession) and Rachel crochets.  But what about our favorite characters?

In our newest release, TIGER TIGER, available now from Samhain Publishing, we gave our main character Sasha the hobby of jogging.  Of course, if you know anyone who jogs, you know it’s really more of an obsession – if they don’t get their miles in, they get cranky.  In another novel we wrote, EMERALD FIRE, our main character is a textile artist and makes a pair of socks for the hero.  Who else do we know that has a real hobby?

Any of you out there NCIS fans?  Leroy Jethro Gibbs loves to work with his hands and does carpentry in his basement (the actor actually was a carpenter before he became an actor).  Sherlock Holmes plays the violin (which the two current retellings keep faithfully, though no one can eclipse Jeremy Brett’s performance).  Something about these hobbies makes these characters more real to the viewer or reader, makes the character more like a human being than a one-dimensional cardboard cutout.

What about you?  Who are some of your favorite characters and what are their hobbies?

 

Chicagoland Shifters, Book 2

Veterinary trauma surgeon and animal empath Sasha Soskoff has found everything he ever wanted with his new partners Neal, Steve and Carlos. Life feels as safe and secure as it can be among a group of ex-Marine tiger shifters. Until a homeless man is found, gruesomely mauled and murdered, near Neal’s BDSM club.

When it’s determined a rogue tiger did the deed, the jaguars’ accusing eyes turn toward Sasha’s lovers. The precarious balance of peace tips dangerously toward war.

Neal knows damned well none of his tigers committed the crime. Someone must be in Chicago without his knowledge or permission, and they’d better find him fast before uncertainty and conflict rip the tight-knit band apart from the inside.

As Sasha struggles to heal the stress fractures forming among his tiger family, he begins to wonder if his dreams of a home, and love, were too good to be true. And it’s precisely that moment the killer strikes at the heart of the tiger clan—Sasha himself.

About the Authors

For author and textile artist A. Catherine Noon, it’s all about the yarn, both metaphorical and literal—spinning a yarn, knitting with yarn, weaving, sewing, painting, sharing stories and good times over a cup of coffee with dark chocolate. She teaches creative writing, creative expression and textile arts.

Author and image consultant Rachel Wilder is passionate about the masks and costumes people wear. She loves exploring that with her characters. Living in Las Vegas gives her an ample backdrop to pursue her curiosity.

Noon and Wilder links:

http://taurusandtaurus.blogspot.com/

http://noonandwilder.com/

https://www.facebook.com/noonandwilder

A. Catherine Noon:

http://acatherinenoon.blogspot.com/

http://acatherinenoon.com/

https://www.facebook.com/acatherinenoon

https://twitter.com/acatherinenoon

On Babywatch…

Tomorrow, my daughter is scheduled for a C-section. We’ve been on the go all week making sure we’re ready. Tonight, I’ll spend the night at her family’s house. Early tomorrow, we’ll be getting ready to go to the hospital.

I’ll likely have my phone or iPad with me, so I hope to have pics to share, but don’t expect to see me too much. I’ll be taking care of the 9-year-old and dd’s menagerie of cats and dogs. I’ll have my laptop with me because I have to get some writing done, but realistically, I don’t know how much I can accomplish.

So, just one request, y’all. Prayers, wishes, incantations—I don’t care what denomination or flavor of faith you have. I’m eclectic that way. I just want good thoughts coming our way. Thanks! ~DD

Guest Blogger: Sidney Bristol (Contest)

Hello, and thanks so much to Delilah for hosting me today! My name is Sidney Bristol, you might have seen me around here once or twice before, and I’m on a one-woman parade through the blogesphere!

You see, I’m celebrating the release of my second So Inked book, The Harder He Falls. The So Inked series follows a shop of female tattoo artists as they ink customers, engage in daring sexual encounters and generally get into mischief, trouble and end up in love. Since the heroine of The Harder He Falls specializes in Asian tattoos, specifically the Japanese style and tradition, I’ve been chatting up all sorts of traditional tattoo elements and the history that has created a very unique tattoo culture surrounding the style.

There are a lot of the Japanese tattoo elements you see across cultures. Flowers, the phoenix, tigers and dragons, those are things you see in different cultures, the Japanese artists just put their own spin on it.

And then there are the creatures that are uniquely Japanese.

The kirin is one of those. It shares some similarities with its Chinese counterpart, the qilin, but has evolved into a majestic, serene creature unique to the culture. You might have seen a few in art or illustrations and tattoos.

Kirin as a word actually means giraffe, but because that animal isn’t from the island nation, it’s believed they were crafted on images and descriptions of the giraffe in the beginning, but have evolved. It wouldn’t surprise me if the overall serene disposition of the kirin is based on the giraffe. But they’ve become more!

The kirin is depicted with the head of the Japanese dragon, the body of a stag, much of the time it’s covered in either fish or dragon scales, they have the legs of a horse and the tail of a bull. You can find them with either the horns of a stag or a single horn in the middle of their head. Kind of like the Japanese unicorn! It’s also said that they can fly and have wings.

Such a weird, conglomeration of creatures is actually one of the most powerful beings in Japanese mythology. More powerful than even the phoenix or dragon, but as peaceful as a butterfly. They’re so careful, that they do not even move unless it will bring no harm to any living creature. The kirin in mythology is the pet of the gods, and only appear in the lands ruled by just and virtuous leaders.

As a symbol, the kirin represents serenity and prosperity. You see it depicted as being in motion in most tattoos. It’s one of the lesser popular elements, but when you do see it, it’s often with flowers. As with everything in the Japanese tattoo tradition, the combination can mean different things depending on which flower it’s paired with.

The kirin is a strange animal, I’ll give you that. After doing the research for The Harder He Falls, I had to read up more on this creature. If you aren’t familiar with my So Inked series, I do a lot of chapter headings with tattoo facts and definitions. The mythology behind these animals is really neat, and if you’re the digging type, it’s something totally worth looking into.

What is a mythological creature that’s fascinated you? One random commentor will receive one digital ebook copy of Under His Skin, So Inked #1.

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It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | YouTube

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The Harder He Falls, So Inked #2   Ellora’s Cave | Barnes and Noble | Amazon

A woman who doesn’t have time for love…

A hot night full of hotel-destroying sex was all Kellie wanted from her client-turned-sex god. Between family and work, there isn’t room for love, just hot, sweaty lust. An arrangement for mutual gratification is exactly what Kellie wants, but every kiss, each mind-blowing orgasm twines her heart around a man she cannot have.

A man building a new life…

Quinton’s assumptions about the So Inked shop owner are turned on their head after one session under her tattoo machine. Kellie’s not the vandal he’s looking for, but she’s the woman he wants. In his bed, on the desk or under the stars, he’ll take her any way he can get her. But Quin has secrets and someone is out to destroy him. Someone who has their sights set on Kellie now.

—

Excerpt

Kellie  shifted on the wooden bench, still restless. The evening breeze was cooler than normal thanks to a cold front blowing in. It was ridiculous that dropping into the nineties was considered a cool spell, but in the height of Texas summer, you took what you got. She swept her hair up into a knot and tipped her head back. The slight dampness of her skin, courtesy of the ever-present humidity, was a small price to pay for being able to sit outside. She’d shed the formfitting dress for jeans and a tank top and felt more like herself for it.

“How hot does it get here?” Quin plunked down their dinner and sat on his side of the picnic table. Behind him the food truck was starting to pack up.

“Can’t handle the heat?” It was too much to ask that the man be able to cope with everything. He’d sat through the tattoo yesterday without complaint, being a heat weenie wasn’t terrible.

His brilliant blue eyes stood out in the dim illumination of the parking lot light. “When you have A/C, why should you?”

“You do realize that it’s going to get at least ten degrees hotter and stay there, don’t you?” She unwrapped the tacos and inhaled the spicy aroma of peppers and onions mixed with tender beef.

Quin made a show of wiping his forehead with a napkin. “I’m going to melt.”

“Why the hell are you still here then?”

He hefted his burrito and wrapped the tortilla tighter. “Family.”

She nodded, understanding that reason above all others.

They descended into companionable silence while they ate. The garbled sounds of a Tejano station melded with the distant sounds of Highway 75 and the light street traffic up and down Greenville Avenue.

“What are you so wound up about, doll?”

Her head snapped around. Quin watched her with one brow arched.

“What?” she asked.

“Your knees are bouncing and you keep looking around. Are you expecting someone I don’t know about?” He glanced over each shoulder.

The bubble of anger swelling in her breast burst. It wasn’t Quin’s fault she was suffering from a case of bitchitis.

Instead of snapping at him, she put her taco down and massaged her temples. “No, I’m just sitting on too much energy and not enough time to expend it.”

“Ah.” He nodded as if he understood. “We used to call that the fight or fuck stage.”

It was her turn to quirk a brow at him. She shivered despite the heat. He had a point; one or the other would help. “Fight or fuck stage? What did you used to do?”

“First I was in the Marines, then I used to fight MMA, semipro.”

Her eyebrows crept upward. Mixed martial arts? She saw Quin in a whole new light, and when she looked at him in this proverbial light, he looked damn good. Fighters came with their own set of issues, but as an MMA hobbyist herself, Kellie had to admit that her bad boy draw was sitting across from her. Growing up around the gym meant she’d become more than competent in a few martial art forms. As an adult, branching out into the grappling, wrestling and more violent aspects had given her a much needed outlet.

Kellie grabbed her drink, the cup covered in condensation, and gulped it down to get moisture back in her dry mouth.

“Why’d you stop?”

“I got hurt. Fractured a few vertebrae. Everyone was amazed I could walk after that. Realized there was little to no chance of me coming back from the injury, so I switched over to training. I like it.”

“Do you train around here?” An invisible fist clenched her heart. There had been a time when she would have known the different gyms, who trained where, which ones were worth going to and so forth.

Quin didn’t answer immediately. He chewed his food without haste and took a drink before replying. “I’m transitioning locations. Parting with someone. It’s a little messy.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Yeah, I’ve been there. I’m lucky to have Mary as my co-owner. The guy I worked with before her was a man-child.”

He snorted. “Man-child?”

“Yeah, you know. Frat boy types.”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “That’s a good one, doll. Man-child. I’ll have to remember that.”

The pet name slid over her nerves as if it were sandpaper. “Do you have to call me that?”

“What?” He blinked as if he had no clue what she was talking about.

“Lay off the doll crap already.”

He shrugged. “You look like a doll.”

Her scalp itched and her hand balled into a fist. “You think I look like a whore?” she growled. Moments like these she felt as if she were a passenger in her own body. The urge to do something, or even the man across from her, had her muscles too tense and her nerves strung too tight.

Quin jerked his face away from his cup. “What? No. That’s not what I meant. You’re attractive and exotic-looking. You look more like a doll than a real person.”

Heat crawled up her neck and she was thankful the parking light was their only illumination. It was the most convoluted compliment anyone had ever paid her, and it turned her on even more. She folded her taco wrapper into a neat square.

“You realize the term china doll is what men called Asian prostitutes and war brides?”

“The fuck—no. No, that’s definitely not what I meant. Hey, guys probably hit on you all the time. I figured I had to be a little creative.”

She rolled her eyes. “At least you don’t talk to my boobs.”

His gaze dipped to her chest and her nipples perked up at his inspection. She squeezed her thighs together. This was ridiculous. She was not an animal in heat ready to throw herself at some random guy.

“Well, in their defense, most guys probably only come up to your chest, so it’s not entirely their fault.” One side of his mouth kicked up in a roguish smile.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, blame it on me because I’m tall.”

“It’s not your fault you’re tall. It’s their fault they’re short.”

Her phone buzzed against her hip. Conversation forgotten, Kellie dug it out of her pocket and unlocked the screen. The home-care provider always texted her when Grandma finally went to bed. She breathed a sigh of relief when nothing else was mentioned, which meant the day had passed without incident. She had all night before she would need to go home and face those troubles. For now she was her own woman.

“Everything okay?”

She glanced up from the phone. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“So you moved here for family. Wife? Girlfriend?”

“None of the above.”

He was unattached and available. She went very still, the possibilities running through her head.

Quin cleared his throat. “My schedule right now doesn’t lend itself to dating.”

Even better. She laid her palms on the rough wooden surface of the table. “Neither does mine.”

His stillness echoed hers. A predatory awareness came over him, but she wasn’t prey. “That’s a shame.”

She looked him over, even as he did the same. He wouldn’t be the first client she slept with, she wasn’t a saint. But neither did she know him.

“Excuse me.” The food truck cook had walked up on them without either noticing. “I need to load the table, sorry.” He smiled and wiped his hands on the dirty apron.

Kellie swiped the napkin across her face. Had she really inhaled the burrito? Judging by the sad remnants left, yes she had.

“That’s fine. Thanks for the food.”

She rose, gathered up her trash and tossed it in a recycling bin, then leaned against the front of Quin’s truck, out of the way while Quin lent a hand to their cook and helped load the table. Too many thoughts spun around in her head, she needed a minute to get her head screwed on straight, but she wasted those watching Quin’s arms and the way his t-shirt stretched across his back. She pretended she hadn’t been staring when he headed for her, perching her elbows on the hood  and leaning back. The truck’s grille pressed into her back but with her elbows perched on the edge, it thrust her breasts out. As if she needed to draw any more attention to them.

Quin’s gaze roved freely over her body and she could already anticipate his strong touch. He would be an energetic lover, but would he be gentle? Or rough? Did he always have to stay in control? Because sometimes she liked to put a man through his paces.

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking and I’m dying to know.” He stopped less than a foot away.

She smiled slowly, already having a pretty good idea what his answer to her question would be. “I was wondering if you would like to get a room?”

Last of the Triplehorn Boys, Out Today!

Today, Tommy Triplehorn gets his happy-ever-after! I’ve given you glimpses into his story over the past few weeks, and you can read an excerpt if you click on the  cover, but you only need to know a few things, don’t you? Tommy’s a cowboy, through and through. He’s only loved one woman in his entire life. And he’ll do anything to help her see that she’ll never be happy with any man who isn’t him. Add together a weekend in a hotel where two lovers reconnect,  a threesome meant to blow apart one woman’s closely guarded heart, and a diligent young man and you have the makings of a very sexy cowboy story. I can’t wait to hear what you all think!

When two lonely hearts collide, age becomes just a number.

Sarah Colby’s marriage was over long ago, but she’s never shed the scars her abusive husband left behind. Add the one shameful indiscretion from her past, an affair with a much younger man, and she’s haunted by that long ago summer.

Tommy Triplehorn is happy his brothers have settled down and started families of their own, but he’s feeling a little smothered by all that domesticity. Carousing and drinking no longer holds a thrill, and he thinks he knows the reason why. He’s waited long enough for Sarah Colby to get over being ashamed of their shared past. He’s old enough to know what he wants, and he wants her.

Warning: A cowboy on a mission to seduce will do whatever it takes, including offering his woman a no-holds-barred weekend of sex, even a ménage with a friend, to prove he’ll fulfill her every sexy need… 

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