Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Talk about something to wake a writer up in the morning. LMAO This is the first time I'VE blushed in YEARS! LOL
Caution: This video contains explicit language and should not be viewed at work or near children's curious ears.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Beyond The Dark by Angela Knight, Emma Holly, Lora Leigh, & Diane Whiteside includes In A Wolf's Embrace by Lora Leigh
Order at Amazon
A daring collection of never-before-published erotic desire from four of the hottest names in
Four of the most sizzling authors of paranormal romance take readers beyond their wildest fantasies, to a seductive midnight world of erotic suspense, demons, mages, vampires, and knights. A world of queens with devilish secrets, and of demons with secret desires. So dangerous and fun, readers may never want to come back down to earth again...
"I don’t know how Lora Leigh does it, but I am glad she does. She weaves her magic around IN A WOLF'S EMBRACE creating an incredible novella." Natasha Smith ~ Romance Junkies
"These four erotic romantic fantasies are terrific novellas with strong lead characters that sub-genre fans will fully relish." Harriet Klausner ~ The Best Reviews
"Where are we?" She finally asked wearily, staring up at the ceiling of the SUV, trying to hide her response to his touch.
"We're about two hours from your cabin," he told her softly, enjoying the feel of her satiny knee and the flesh in the curve of her leg against his fingertips.
"You researched me well then," she stated, fighting to control her breathing.
The scent of her arousal was growing. The glands in his tongue were thickening. He should stop touching her, he should place both hands on the steering wheel and concentrate on driving the vehicle rather than driving them both crazy with lust.
"I researched you for months," he admitted. He refused to lie to her any longer. "I followed you at night when you jogged, and tracked your movements otherwise. You were under surveillance for nearly six months."
He hurt her. He could smell the scent of her inner pain and he hated it.
"Why did you choose me? Why not the head of security? Or the head manager? Why a lowly assistant manager with limited power?"
He snorted at that. "You mean the lazy manager who has shifted all the work, responsibility and information to your shoulders while claiming the fruits of your labor?" He asked. "I didn't have to get very close to smell the laziness on that woman to know the truth of her. All I had to do was read the file that had been prepared on her."
"How did you know Albrecht would be here during the security upgrade?"
"I had my sources." He shrugged.
"How many of you are working together?"
Matthias flashed her a grin. "How many of us did you see?"
"You had help," she bit out. "How else did you manage to get my luggage or have my car moved? You couldn't have done this alone."
"I was alone." He wouldn't tell her different. There was always a chance she wasn't the person he thought she was, and he didn't dare betray the others. "Stop asking me questions, Grace. We'll talk when we get to the cabin."
"Stop touching me then. And I swear to God, if your fingers go any higher, the first chance I get I'm cutting them off your hand."
His hand had slid higher, inches above her knee, and despite her order, she was enjoying it. The smell of her arousal was now covering her fear. The air around him was indolent with the scent of a wicked storm. He could feel the wild pulse of her blood beneath her flesh, and knew it matched his own.
"I’ve been dying to touch you, Grace," he finally admitted. "Holding back these past weeks has been hell on my control."
"Well isn't that just too damned bad," she snapped, though he could hear the breathlessness, the hunger inside her. "Because you don't have a chance in hell now. Unless it's rape you're after, big boy, you fucked up when you pulled that trigger. I wouldn't sleep with you now if all that mating heat crap the tabloids printed was true."
Monday, December 03, 2007
SURE THING by Lorie O'Clare Available Now at Ellora's CaveISBN: 9781419914829 Joanie Showalter planned her very first cruise along the coast of Alaska. What she didn't plan on was taking it alone. But when her husband quickly files for divorce, and then moves in with his secretary, the last thing Joanie is going to do is let him have the cruise tickets so he can take his bimbo girlfriend.
Joanie also didn't plan on being stranded in Seward, Alaska when the tour van leaves without her. Her situation grows even worse when an old Inuit woman accuses her of intentionally wearing a sex charm and seducing her grandson. The woman yells at her in her native tongue, and its impossible for Joanie to explain that she bought the turquoise necklace on the ship. It's not magic--or is it?Corbin Silver was raised to treat women with respect. He would never openly make passes at a lady simply because she's distractingly beautiful. But it's not every day a gorgeous woman is stranded in his home town, and believes the necklace she has will make him lust after her. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up. After all, everyone is just waiting for them to strip naked publicly and have sex. He is a gentleman though, and Joanie is stuck without her credit cards or luggage. It's only good manners to insist on putting her up at his place while she's here. He plans on taking advantage of this silly superstition and sexually teasing and torturing her in every room of his home. After a few days though, he knows magic or not, he doesn't want Joanie to leave. More so, Joanie is struggling with the same attraction. Maybe magic brought them together, but if it's true love, there is nothing stronger to keep them together.
EXCERPT: Feeling sorry for herself really pissed her off. Talk about frustrating. Either she could be mad that she'd believed she had what it took to impress that many men or she could be angry at the old woman for ruining her good time by informing her the necklace she wore was a sex charm. Or she could let some tiny piece of jewelry control her. "I'm not going to rely on some hexed piece of jewelry to provide me with entertainment," she grumbled and raised her hand to throw the damned thing away. "Ouch," she shrieked when she hit what seemed like a steel wall. Backing up quickly, she reared into the door to the café. "Why did you hit me?" A tall--very tall--dark man glared down at her. Joanie looked up at a very broad chest. She looked up further past the tuft of black hair that curled over the top of his shirt. Leaning her head back, she stared into compelling green eyes that almost glowed against a dark complexion. Eyes a woman could drown in. The ground shifted underneath her. "I'm...I'm sorry." Her mouth went dry and she realized it was because her jaw had dropped open. She shut it quickly. "I didn't see you." He raised an eyebrow. Joanie couldn't create more space between them with the door pressing against her back. So she stepped to the side and almost tripped over her shoes. Grabbing the edge of a trashcan that sat to the side of the door, she balanced herself. Then let go of the trash receptacle quickly and rubbed her hands on her jeans. "I'm usually hard to miss." The man cocked his head at her, probably trying to determine if she had all of her oars in the water. "Are you lost?" "No," she said quickly. "I was trying to…" She looked at the necklace balled in her hand. "I mean, I wanted to throw this thing…" Once again she strained her neck to stare up at the giant in front of her. He had the longest eyelashes she'd ever seen on a man. They were shiny black, just like his hair, which was pulled away from his face. His shoulders were so broad and he was so tall that he filled her vision. How could she not notice him before hitting him in the chest? His gaze dropped to her hand. She straightened her fingers, holding the tangled necklace up for him to see, as if that would explain her actions. She was making even a bigger fool of herself. And in front of the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. He had to stand a good six-and-a-half-feet tall. He wasn't bulky though. He'd been right in front of her before she'd even noticed him. There was a strong silence about him, like a large, deadly predator capable of snagging prey before it even knew it was hunted. Joanie let her attention return to his broad chest, thick arms and unreadable expression. He had a long, straight nose, high, broad cheekbones and a strong, firm jaw. This man was king of his world. She'd almost guarantee it. Thick, straight black hair was pulled back from his face, bound behind him so she couldn't tell how long it was with him facing her. Not that she could see over his shoulders anyway. They were broad, like a linebacker, but he wasn't heavy--far from it. Her knuckles still tingled from accidentally punching all that hard, solid muscle. "Is there some custom in the lower forty eight where you throw necklaces that I don't know about?" If he was amused, there was no way of telling by the stone expression he gave her. "Of course not. The old woman inside told me..." For some reason she couldn't form the words love or sex in front of this man. Heat burned her cheeks, swelled inside her, then tumbled down her insides until it pooled between her legs. She nibbled her lip, looking down at the necklace. Maybe taking it off caused a reverse affect. Possibly it now worked its magic on her, turning her into a babbling idiot in front of the most gorgeous man possibly in all of Alaska. Hell, maybe he wasn't even good-looking. After all, hadn't men told her for the past few days she was the best thing they'd seen in ages? The necklace had tricked them. Now it would make a fool out of her. "Anyway, I got all mad and just wanted to throw it away." She continued chewing on her lip, realizing she wasn't making any sense. The large man nodded, his expression still sober although she swore his black eyes suddenly sparkled like rare jewels. "Grandmother's bark is worse than her bite. She wouldn't want you harboring hostility. Best to resolve this now." With that he put a strong hand on her shoulder. His touch scorched her skin through her sweater as he turned her around and guided her back into the café.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Erotic, sensual, alpha and intense, and a surprise package that will blow you away. Dragon Prime. What makes the Primes so special? Find out in the print release of Dragon Prime (related to the Legacies but a stand alone title).
Get your autographed copy at Dreams By Night http://www.dreamsbynight.com/
Read an Excerpt http://www.loraleigh.com/legacies/dragonprime/
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
And, since one of the things I am most thankful for is you, my wonderful readers, I wanted to leave you with a little treat from my current work-in-progress. One of my advanced readers called after reading this and told me that above all else, one certain line absolutely can't be cut from this... See if you can guess which line! *grin*
Nauti Dreams (unedited excerpt)
Her knees were weakening. She could feel her legs turning to mush, right along with her objections. This was Natches. Wicked, erotic Natches. His kisses were a flame that burned to the icy core of her. His touch was an inferno, warming her from the inside out.
And she needed to be warm. Just for a little while. She needed to be warmed by him, just one more time.
As his lips moved over her neck, her arms found strength. As his hands pushed beneath the hem of her jeans, she struggled against him, pushing at his arms.
“Not easy.” She nipped at his neck, clearly surprising him as she tugged at his t shirt. She wanted him bare as well. She wanted to feel him against her, bare flesh to bare flesh. She needed it.
He whipped the shirt from his body and tossed it aside as her hands went to his belt then. Shaking, uncertain, her fingers pulled and tugged at his belt.
“There you go Chay. Get naughty for me.”
She tore at the metal button, then eased the zipper over the hard, throbbing length of his cock. She eased it down slowly, working it over the stiff ridge as a hard growl passed his lips.
He wanted her naughty? She wasn’t naughty, she was starving for him. Five years of pent up hunger blazed through her, erupting from a well of need that she’d had no idea existed within her.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Order From Amazon
James “Dawg” Mackey has lusted after sweet Crista Jansen for years. Just as many as she’s spent running
from him—and from that dangerous attraction that shot like a spark through her whole body. But now for Crista, running isn’t an option anymore because Dawg’s got a plan. It’s kind of low-down. And kind of hot.
Blackmail is a dirty word, but Dawg will use it if that’s what it takes to get Crista where he wants her. His hungers are too hard and fierce not to. He doesn’t realize that Crista has a longing too. She’s knows what he’s up to, what he’s capable of. He didn’t get that nickname for nothing. And before the night is through, Crista’s making him work for it.
This excerpt is intended for those readers 18 years old or older.
It was nightmare.
No, it wasn’t a nightmare because she was pretty damned sure she was awake. And in nightmares, bullets weren’t real. They weren’t real and they weren’t exploding around the warehouse like hellish fireflies destroying everything they lodged inside.
Nightmares came with a certain understanding that it was a dream. Not Real. This was a certain understanding it was definitely real and if something really good didn’t happen really soon then she was going to have holes in her body that were not supposed to be there.
She fought to hold back her screams as bullets whizzed over her head again, popping in the wood crates around her and sending a shower of wood chips and shattered glass from inside around her head.
This was bad. Very bad. She stared around, wide eyed and dazed as she scrambled around more boxes, more crates, fighting for as much protection between her and the bullets as she could find.
Crista Jensen was certain her horoscope hadn’t said anything about bullets today. Something about dark knights and ill-advised trips, but there had been nothing in there about bullets.
She would have remembered.
She would have changed her plans.
Oh boy would she have changed her plans.
Scuttling behind what she hoped was a very thickly packed crate, she covered her head with her arms as glass sprayed around her.
Those weren’t just regular bullets. Those were fast bullets. Automatic? Uzi? Something. The kind that spit fire as they pelleted out dozens of rounds at a time. And she knew because the red flashes of light in the otherwise dark interior of the warehouse were a pretty good clue, she screamed silently to herself.
A terrified squak, a cross between a squeak and a squawk fell from her lips as chips of wood exploded from the sides of the crate she found to hide behind.
They were serious out there. People were killing people and she was caught in the crossfire and wondering how the hell she was going to get out of this one.
She knew this was a bad idea.
She knew. She had felt that sick feeling in her gut the minute she stepped into the cavernous warehouse and realized the lights didn’t work. But had she, dumbass that she was, backed out and left? Oh hell now, she had just pulled her penlight from her back and trudged merrily on her way looking for that stupid box. She told the delivery company to deliver to her home, not here. Yet when she returned home from work what had she found? An official notice that her package had been dropped off at their local distribution warehouse and why, lookie, there had been the magical key to open the damned locker it was in.
Well guess what? There was no locker here, she told herself sarcastically. No locker, but plenty of bullets singing a macabre tune through the darkness.
So now, rather than collecting her belongings she was just trying to stay alive. When did fate decided to bust Crista Jensen’s ass? For God’s sake, hadn’t she had enough bad luck in the past eight years?
This was all Dawg’s fault, she decided. Every bit of it. He lived and he breathed and because of it, fate hated her. Fate was female, right? It was probably jealous. There could be no other explanation.
This was so bad.
“Where did the fucking girl go—?“ A harsh, accented voice called out roughly.
Okay she was the only girl she knew of in this stupid place. She had only heard male orders, commands and screams since hell had erupted around her.
Crista turned, crawling on her hands and bare knees—she should have worn jeans instead of one of her few good skirts—trying her best to get as far away from the mayhem and bloodshed as possible.
She knew not to come in here, she reminded herself. Remember that sick feeling? That panicked feeling? Hadn’t she learned years ago it meant bad things? Get the hell out of Dodge type things?
She had been feeling it more and more lately. And this was just another event in a long string of very odd events. Clothes that would go missing then turn back up in her closet, freshly washed. The feeling of being watched. Odd phone calls in the middle of the night and strangers who thought they knew her.
Hadn’t she told her brother last week that something was wrong? And speaking of screwy brothers, where the hell was hers? Dammit, Alex would have to disappear when she needed him most.
And she hadn’t told him goodbye when she talked to him.
Strange that she should remember that as she wedged herself into a dark, musty corner surrounded by crates and backed by a cement support beam.
She hadn’t told Alex goodbye when she talked to him last week. She had just hung up on him because he had something totally idiotic.
Something along the lines of “Call Dawg.”
Oh yeah, right. She was going to do that.
He should have known better than to make such an insane suggestion. Where the hell had his mind gone in the past eight years? Had he forgotten how hard it had been for her to stay in Somerset that summer? Dawg had chased her with steady determination for months before the rest of her world had collapsed around her. Even though it was more than obvious that he hadn’t remembered that one stolen night she had spent in his bed, he had still chased after her with a determination that reminded her why they called him Dawg.
Because he never let up. He never gave up.
She flinched as a projectile tore through the side of the crate that she had hoped was thick enough to protect her. She stared at the hole it made coming out, mere inches from her upraised knees and gagged.
It was nearly the size of her fist.
She heard the male voice screaming from a distance as another bullet ricocheted against the cement beam, inches above her head.
She went down. All the way down. And fought to get through the small crack between the support beam and the heavy crate, wondering how the hell a bullet could penetrate it when she couldn’t even move it.
Clawing desperately at the side of the crate, she pressed, pushed, wedging herself into the minute amount of space and almost—almost managing to escape.
She screamed, terror racing through her, freezing her blood to ice as hard fingers grabbed her hair and pulled her back, jerking her back by the thick dark strands and sending agonizing pain racing through her neck.
Her hands reach back, her nails clawing at the wrist behind her, fighting, struggling as she was dragged from the only means of escape in sight.
“Stupid whore! Where’s my fucking money? I teach you to betray me, puta!”
She was jerked around, staring back in horror at the dark eyes and pitted face of what she was certain had to be a demon.
Stringy black hair fell over his narrow brow, his flat cheekbones were ruddy with rage, his dark brown eyes lit almost red with fury. And he had a gun.
Crista watched, in slow motion. She had heard that expression, events passing in slow motion and hadn’t believed it until now.
Now she was watching it. Tearless. Breathless. Watching in slow motion as his arm raised. One hand pushed her against the cement support, the other was coming up. Up.
But the shot came too soon.
One minute she was watching that black weapon level up to her, the next a shower of red exploded around her as her hands flew to her face and a scream tore from her as his body jerked forward, then fell.
Right at her feet.
“Goddamn you Crista!”
She recognized that voice.
Jerking her head up from the sight of the bloody mess her assailants face was now, she stared back at a black masked figure, LAW ENFORCEMENT emblazoned across the bullet proof jacket he was jerking from his broad chest.
“Put it on damn you!” His voice was a hard rasp, guttural, animalistic as he jerked her around and strapped her into the vest until the black velco strips were holding it snugly to her chest and back.
“Let’s go!” Hard gloved fingers wrapped around her arm as with a shove, the crate she had been fighting to move was pushed back as though it were no more than a heavy box. “Move it!”
He pushed her through the opening before gripping her arm again and pulling her through the dark.
“What’s going on?” She breathed out roughly. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t cry. All she could do was follow Dawg.
And she knew it was Dawg. Those brilliant Celadon green eyes, that dark male honeyed voice. No other man sounded like Dawg. No other man moved like him or smelled like him.
And besides, it was just her dumb luck. He was here. She was here. Hell was erupting around her. Fate was laughing her ass off, and it was all Dawg’s fault.
“Shut up!” He snarled, not even bothering to so much as try to explain as he pushed her through the darkness. “Keep your mouth shut, keep your head down and if God is in a good mood today, I might be able to save your ass.”
Save her ass?
“But I was just here—“
“Just fucking save it.” He pushed her against something cement, the dim light that spilled in from overhead windows emphasizing the enraged flames in his eyes. “I just killed a man for you, princess. A man worth a hell of a lot more alive than he was dead. Now shut your goddamned mouth and do exactly what I say. Exactly. Or I’ll slap cuffs on you and haul you in so fast you won’t have time to twitch that pretty ass of yours.”
Before she could process the fact that they were racing from the back of the warehouse, Dawg was lifting her into the backseat of his black four by four double cab pick up, his eyes glowing with rage as his fingers tangled in her hair. He stared down at her remorseless before gripping the bottom of her t-shirt and wiping it roughly over her lower face.
Blood. She shuddered at the thought. Someone else’s blood stained her now. Then, Dawg forced her head back a second before his lips covered hers.
Gunfire receded. Reality dimmed. The world narrowed down to his lips slanted over hers, his tongue pressing between them as hers opened. Electricity sparked, exploded, and sizzled through her head with a dazzling display of color as pleasure tore through her system.
Eight years without him. Without this. Without the hunger that consumed and burned away the ragged wound in her soul that leaving him eight years before, had left inside her.
Her hands curled against the bulletproof vest and a whimper that shocked her vibrated from her throat as he tore his lips from hers as quickly as he had taken them.
She stared up at him, wide-eyed, shocked, as he glared back at her.
“Where did you park?” He snapped out.
Her lips trembled as she fought to drag in enough air to answer him.
“The back lot,” she whispered as he jerked her purse open and before she could stop him, pulled her keys from inside.
“You’re damned lucky your car wasn’t there when this started Crista,” he snarled. “Luckier than you’ll ever know. Now, lay down. Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t twitch. So help me God, if you give yourself away in here I’ll toss you into a cell so deep and so dark you won’t know up or down. Do we have that clear?”
She tried to nod, just as she was trying to breath. A second later he was pushing her to the seat, pressing her cheek into the fine black leather with a harsh order to ‘stay’ before the door slammed and he was gone.
And she was alone. She could still hear the gunfire, but it was distant, and easing away. It was replaced with shouted orders, vehicles moving, and strident calls.
Inside the truck she shuddered, drew her knees to her chest and tried to still the shaking in her body.
Shock. She knew she must be having some kind of shock reaction because it was the middle of the summer. She shouldn’t be freezing so hard she was shaking, breathing shouldn’t be hard. And God help her if she puked in Dawg’s new truck. He would probably shoot her himself then.
She forced herself to breath slowly, evenly, to draw in the scent of Dawg that permeated his truck and filled her senses with memories. Memories she had fought to forget for eight long years.
The feel of his thighs between hers, parting them as lowered himself to her. Watching as one large hand gripped the shaft of his cock, nudging it against the hot, wet curls between her thighs.
“Wax your pussy,” he had growled. “So I can see your soft flesh gripping my dick.”
Her womb clenched at the memory, as clear now as it had been the morning after.
And he didn’t even remember it. She still had to fight back the rage and the pain of that one. The bastard. He had seen her two days later and had looked right through her as she stood in her parents convenience store, her heart in her throat, certain that he had come for her.
But he hadn’t. He had smiled and flirted and on his arm hung some stupid twit blonde bimbo that cooed over his muscles as he paid for ice and snacks.
He had made some cheerful comment to Crista about her hair, and she glared at him. He had frowned, tried again, and she had turned her back and left Alex to take care of him. Because she couldn’t look at him, she couldn’t bear remembering and knowing that not so much as a glimmer of that night remained in his memories. Knowing, that if he had her again, they wouldn’t be alone.
And then weeks later, the knowledge that she hadn’t escaped that night without repercussions. She had carried his child.
Her initial reaction had been one of anger, of resentment. He was partying, enjoying his life and his women and the dirty little sex games he and his cousins played and she was pregnant.
But within days that anger had stilled. The knowledge she would always have a part of him had consumed her young mind, her heart. The heart she had given Dawg on a sultry summer night. And that happiness had built, filling her, glowing inside her.
Until three months to the day after he had taken her. The day she had lost the child she had grown to love so deeply. She had left the clinic Alex had taken her to, packed her bags and left for Virginia with friends who had been visiting that week.
And here she was, eight years later, her fingers curled into the leather of his truck seat, shaking, terrified as the sound of gunfire finally eased away and shouted commands filled the night instead.
Suddenly, the implications of her very precarious position slammed inside her head. She was at the scene of an obvious raid of some sort. Wasn’t that what they called it? A raid? A sting? And she had been right smack dab in the middle of it.
Which meant she was about to be right smack dab in the middle of a whole lot of suspicion.
Fubar. That’s what this entire fucking night had turned into. Fucked up beyond all repair, and it was all his own damned fault.
He stared into the shadowed expanse of the warehouse parking lot, his brows lowered, trying to make sense of what he had done and why. The why of it more than anything else.
What had crashed through the hard core of training and beliefs in what he was doing long enough to rush Crista from the warehouse and hide her? What had made him risk his own safety, his own freedom, for a woman.
“I moved her Rodeo,” Natches said, sidling up to Dawg as he stood guarding the warehouse entrance. “She was parked outside the range of the cameras and her head was down as she came through the entrance. With any luck, we can cover her identity.”
Dawg glanced at his cousin and best friend from the corner of his eyes. He was half tempted to blame his cousin for every second of this madness. Following the vague warning he had given, Dawg had moved to find who they assumed was the female seller who had entered the warehouse. She was the only one unaccounted for now.
Because Dawg had moved to intercept her ahead of the rest of the team, and reacted rather than thinking. If he had given himself time to think she would be stretched out on the warehouse floor with the rest of the bastards they had arrested in the raid.
They had the buyers, the sellers, four missing experimental missiles and their guidance chips. It was a damned good haul for the investigation. Except for the fact that the woman who had masterminded the deal hadn’t arrived.
That, or she was hiding in the backseat of Dawg’s pickup truck.
“Remind me why we’re covering her identity,” Dawg said softly, his gaze tracking the rest of the combined ATF and Homeland Security team.
“Because she’s not involved?” Natches hazard a mocking guess.
“She was here,” Dawg pointed out, even as he ignored the hard mental flash of denial that Crista could be involved in this in any way.
“Uh-huh.” Natches nodded. “Of which I warned you. You were the one that jerked her out like a wolf protecting its mate, not me cousin. I just covered your six. That’s my job. Remember?”
Like a wolf protecting its mate. Or a Dawg protecting a bone, he thought sarcastically.
He had taken one look at her and something inside him had exploded in awareness. He knew damned good and well what would happen if he didn’t get her out of there. If she had been caught with the others, with the description of the female suspect they had, she would have never gotten out of the arrest and coming imprisonment. Involved or not.
And why that should matter to him, he couldn’t figure out.
“She’s not involved.” Natches cradled his rifle in his arms like a lover as he stared back at Dawg. “That’s not Crista, Dawg.”
Maybe it wasn’t. But then again, maybe it was, and he just couldn’t see it for his own lust.
Dawg tightened his lips and stared back at the organized chaos inside the now well-lit warehouse. He was a paranoid son of a bitch. He trusted no one but the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, and Crista wasn’t included in the Trinity last he checked.
Yet, he was risking his own life to protect her. Not because Natches’ voice had been warning, concerned. But because his own emotions had interfered with the job for the first time in eight years. And as he stood there, watching the arrests, the recovery of the missiles and their chips, and felt the sense of triumph that team radiated, he felt disassociated.
He was impatient. Eager to have it over with, because his mind was brewing with all the possibles filtering through it. It was possible Crista wasn’t involved. And if she wasn’t, then it was possible that for the first time since her return a year ago, he had an edge on her. She couldn’t just turn and run, as she was wont to do whenever he came near.
Oh no. Not anymore.
His eyes narrowed and his lips curled with an anticipatory smile.
He had lived on instinct too damned long to discount it, and instinct was giving her the benefit of a doubt. But he was still a part of the ATF, and she was at the scene of an arms buy. She also fit the brief description of the one female in the group of thieves that had hi-jacked the weapons and attempted to sell them.
He was going to have to keep an eye on her. A very close eye on her.
“Oh hell, I hate that smile,” Natches suddenly groaned beside him. “Dawg, what the hell are you up to?”
Dawg glanced over at him, his brow lifting in mocking innocence. “I’m just considering how best to determine who’s guilty and who’s innocent,” he drawled. “Nothing for you to worry about Natches. Nothing whatsoever.”
It was a lot for him to worry about, and even more for Crista.
For him, because Crista made him break his own rules, and that was something Dawg never did, under any circumstances. And her, because he was going to take payment for those rules out of her sweet little body.
Natches shoulders slumped. “Hell. Why do I have a feeling now that I should have just played the Knight in Shining Armor myself rather than giving you the opportunity to pull your head out of your ass?”
Dawg snorted at that. “Stop worrying. I have it covered.”
“I’m guaranteed to worry at any time that you tell me not to worry. It’s a cosmic rule.”
Dawg lifted his brows and chuckled in amusement. “Trust me.”
Natches stared back at him in worried disbelief.
“Man, don’t go pulling that kamikaze shit on me again, okay? Four years of it in the Marines were enough. You promised to take it easy once we got home. Remember?” Natches reminded him. “Think about your knee man. You’re only one good accident from being a cripple. Let’s not push it. Kay?”
Dawg let his grin widened. “Take it easy? Easy wasn’t what I had in mind, but taking it sure as hell is.”
Natches stared at him suspiciously. “Don’t do something you’re going to regret man. I don’t have time to pull your ass out of any fires.”
Dawg clapped him on the shoulder before moving toward the men being lifted from the cement floor and prepared for a nice little trip to the nearest jail cell. “No worries, Natches.” He grinned over his shoulder. “No worries at all. Catch ya later.”
He had plans to make. Plans that included one sexy little waitress, his bed, and all kinds of wet, hot, nasty sex acts.
The next time she turned her back on him, she would at least remember what it felt like, what it meant to be owned by him. And by God, before it was over, he would own her. Heart and soul. By fair means or by foul. The Dawg wasn’t playing anymore.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Hidden Agenda's and Tanner's Scheme has released and the feedback on it has been great. Those of you who have emailed, I am taking notes. And I always appreciate your opinions. I'm behind on email, but its catching up. I'm behind schedule on my writing as well, but hopefully I'll be caught up there soon too.
I do have some good news. St. Martins has contracted six more books to the Tempting SEALs series. I have edits coming on Killer Secrets, my march 08 release, and the editor seems very excited over this book. I think Ian and Kira's story is the strongest of the three books, and now I'm really anticipating getting into Nathan's book. His book is the first of the new contracts and he promises to be an incredibly intense and emotional book. I've loved Nathan from the start. The idea for his story started this series, and I can't wait to get started on it.
I've also contracted two more novella's to St. Martins as well, so the next two years look exciting for my SEALs. I hope you enjoy the new stories coming, and later in the year I should have more information on the upcoming books.
Until then, in answer to many of the questions I've been getting in email.
1. Will Dragon Prime be out in print?
A. I have no idea. Ellora's Cave hasn't informed me that it's going into print, but should I hear anything I will let you know.
2. Will Soul Deep be out in print?
A. I've heard it will be, but Ellora's Cave hasn't contacted me concerning it. You can email them for more information at firstname.lastname@example.org
3. Will Surrender from the out of print Ties That Bind, come back to print?
A. See the answers above. I've heard nothing in regards to putting this title back into print. You can email Ellora's Cave though for information.
4. Are you going to write Jonas Wyatt's book?
Most definitely. He's too strong a character to ever leave out. Once I have Dawn's Awakening which released in 08 finished and Mercury's War, also scheduled to release in 08, completed then I can look at which books come next and let you know then. Until then, I'm just working on getting the books finished and getting my schedule back on track.
5. Will Natches from the Nauti Trilogy have his book?
Oh yes, definitely. I'll be working on that one with the next few months. I expect to have it written and turned in by the end of the year.
6. Will you be finishing the Wizard Twins series.
A. Yes. You should be seeing two short stories by the end of the year at least. At least thats what I'm hoping. If it doesn't happen please don't hold it against me because I haven't managed to catch my schedule up yet.
I think thats about it for now. I'm going back to work. I'm completing the final chapters on Wicked Pleasure and working on Dawn's Awakening, hopefully I'll have these books finished by the end of the month.
Wicked Pleasure is the ninth book in the Bound Hearts series. I hope you enjoy it.
And remember, if you have any problems finding any of my previous print titles you can now find them in autographed print at www.dreamsbynight.com
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Written as a stand alone, a full length introduction into the world of the men who are members, or have been members of an elite Virginia Club where men whose passions run dark and hot and whose love will break the boundaries of a woman's heart.
I hope you enjoy the first full length novel in this series Forbidden Pleasures.
To purchase the first seven novella's to this series, please visit www.dreamsbynight.com
Forbidden Pleasure by Lora LeighPublisher: St. Martin's GriffinPaperback: 352 pages ISBN-10: 0312368712 Recommended Read!"I have to say that this was one of the most amazing books I have read. The emotions that run rampant throughout the book, lust, love, affection, anger, and fear, are so well depicted that you are pulled into the lives of these three characters and the world around them." Serena ~ Fallen Angel
ReviewsFive Blue Ribbons!"Highly intense, poignantly emotional, and wonderfully delicious, FORBIDDEN PLEASURE was a truly decadent read." Natasha Smith ~ Romance Junkies
5 Clovers!"Dedicated fans of her Bound Hearts series will be ecstatic to find that releasing through New York publishers has not dowsed any of the heat they have come to crave in her books, but has instead ramped up both the steamy scenes and the plot intensity. This full length novel brings us the most complex Bound Hearts story yet, with mysteries, action, and plot twists that will have you biting your nails in anticipation of the finish." Jennifer ~ CK2S Kwips & Kritiques
4.5 Roses!"This book is steamy and sexy and fun!" Jackie ~ A Romance Review
Forbidden Pleasure by Lora Leigh - Book VIII of the Bound Hearts Series
The Club is private, exclusive and only for those men whose fantasies run to the more forbidden side...
People have heard only fleeting rumors about The Club. Located just outside Washington, D.C., only its members know where men go when they want to indulge the desire to share their women with a carefully selected male partner.
Former FBI agent John 'Mac' McCoy resigned his membership from The Club when he married Keiley Hardin. Tempting and innocent, sweet and sexy, she would never accept Mac's desires to share her with another man. However, Keiley's growing curiosity and Mac's own fantasies of sharing his wife haunt his dreams. And his passions.
Unable to wait any longer, Mac invites his best friend Jethro Riggs, to their home with the intention of drawing Keiley into the pleasures that can only be achieved when two men love the same woman.
But there's more going on in Mac's neck of the woods than a little additional pleasure. A past case involving a stalker who likes to play games has shown up again, but now Keiley is in the middle of it all. Passion and pleasure, danger and desire combine as the forbidden becomes an addiction none of them can escape.
Read an excerpt: http://www.loraleig h.com/boundheart s/forbidden- pleasure/
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Another Recommended Read. I highly suggest trying this one out.
Book 2 in the Hot in the Saddle series.
Clay Russell had plans. Win the Nationals in bull-riding, then start his own spread breeding horses. Instead his family roped him into leaving Arizona to get a struggling ranch in North Carolina back on its feet.
He didn’t expect it to be something beyond his ability. He didn’t expect Rusty Blackhawk to be a woman. Or a witch. But the little bundle of dynamite lit his fuse in more ways than one. Keeping his mind on the job and his hands off the saucy little Rusty was taking all his control, and then some.
Rusty had no choice but to take the Russells’ offer and partner up with them. She wasn’t expecting to like Clay Russell. But it was mighty hard to ignore the tall, handsome cowboy when her body—and her soul—was saying “yes! yes! yes!”
Neither of them expected the fireball of passion that exploded between them, or the danger that would threaten their lives. But it was nothing a little bit of magic—and a whole lot of love—couldn’t fix.
Monday, May 14, 2007
My poor little Pomeranian Cato. I love him. He's beautiful, and friendly and playful and always wants to be a good puppy.
Unless being a good puppy means letting you groom him, then he turns into the demon dog. Wiggling, growling, threatening to snap at me. I mean, he gets GROUCHY.
So, okay, I'm thinking, the grouchy dog can go to the groomer.
So, I take my long silky haired Cato to the groomer. I say, Do Not Shave My Puppy. Groom him out and trim him up, especially around the hindquarters where he can be prone to get messy sometimes because the hair was so damned long.
So, I leave my puppy in what I was assured was capable hands and returned a few hours later.
God, if this is an indication of what of the week is going to be like, I think I'm gonna find a hole to hide in.
I pick up my puppy, and he was SHAVED. All but his neck and head.
Their excuse? His undercoat was matted.
EXCUSE ME. DUH!! Didn't I say he won't let me comb him or brush him? Did I not SAY do not SHAVE MY PUPPY!!!
I need to find a cave to hide in. My puppy is hiding from me. He glares at me now. I really don't think he's happy with me....
Thursday, May 10, 2007
A definite RECOMMENDED READ. You have to check this one out
Hanging By A Moment by Susie Charles. A unique and erotic paranormal tale.
COMING 11 MAY! Book 2 in the Were Watching series: Hanging By A Moment by Susie Charles
Ziggy Trudeau, Were Watching’s Mr. Responsible, neither wants nor needs a mate.
Blocked to the whole thought of taking a mate due to a horrific incident that still haunts him, Ziggy is totally unprepared when he meets Summer Grayson, and his mating instinct goes off the radar. She’s about as far from his “typical” woman as it’s possible to get.
Summer, still tentatively feeling her way among people again after an attack by an ex-lover that almost killed her, is knocked six ways to Sunday when the hunky werewolf makes a move on her. But her ex-lover is still searching for her, bent on hurting her again. Ziggy, so protective of Summer that no other man can even breathe near her without having a death wish, appoints himself as Summer’s personal “bodyguard”, his sole focus being to “protect” her.
The only person who believes that’s the reason is Ziggy, so deep in denial he can’t see the forest for the trees.
But if Ziggy wants more from Summer, he needs to come to terms with his past and make up his mind—fast! He’s going to have to fight for his mate…to the death.
EXCERPT Hanging By A Moment
Ziggy’s whole body tightened as he finally caught sight of the “who” Rico’s eyes were latched onto. A lady in a deep ruby-red cheongsam with side slits from ankle to just short of indecent, showing a flash of thighs in black silk stockings and four-inch heels as she walked. Long, dead-straight, blue-black hair fell in a glossy rope from the ponytail she wore high on her head, a dainty mask covering her eyes providing a hint of mystery.
Yeah baby, he thought as the vision headed their way. A steady throb set up in his groin, and it was no wonder. The dress she wore was neither flashy nor as overtly sexual as the clothing most of the females in the club wore. In fact it was simple and understated by comparison—a touch of feminine sophistication in a world dominated by leather and chains—and amplified her considerable charms to the extreme. But the effect was so overwhelmingly sexy, so…classy. Definitely very classy. “Who is she?”
Unbidden, a vision of her naked sprang to mind, her riding him, all that long hair falling around them in a shiny curtain as he gripped her waist and thrust up inside her. The image was so real his cock surged inside his pants, pinching against the studs on his fly. The throb became an uncomfortable pounding and he was glad for the industrial strength studs—making an introduction by having his cock bust out of his pants was not the way he preferred to impress ladies.
Ignoring the aching discomfort, Ziggy sniffed the air discreetly, trying to pinpoint her particular scent. And when he caught it—a soft orange blossom fragrance—every nerve ending in his body rioted, his cock going from hard to rock-solid stiff so fast he jolted, slipping a little off the barstool. Taking the hint, he stood, giving the steel-hard pike in his pants a bit more room.
Rico cast a curious eye over his shoulder at Ziggy and grinned. “Oh, you’ve finally seen something you like?”
“Give me a break, Rico. A man would have to be dead not to like that.”
“Even so,” chuckled Rico.
“Funny. Who’s the comedian now?” Ziggy rolled his eyes. “So?”
“She’s my hostess.”
“You have a hostess? Since when?”
“Only on the weekends.” Rico cast Ziggy a sideways glance. “It certainly has been a while, hasn’t it…”
Well that would explain why he hadn’t seen her—he’d made a few forays to Dark Side over the past months, but they’d been mostly midweek when things were a little quieter. “And she does what, exactly?”
“Keeps the customers happy.”
“Not what you’re thinking, my friend. Summer is off limits.”
Summer…summer… “This wouldn’t be the ‘summer’ of the ‘summer bet’, would it?” The name certainly fit. Sultry, even the scent of her reminded him of warm nights, sea breezes…naked bodies sliding over silky sheets… In particular his and hers.
“You got it. We had a small wager on a new lady member I’ve had my eye on. I lost…” Rico watched Summer, his eyebrow lifting as he scanned her from head to toe. “Or so I thought.”
“But has she…does she ever…” Ziggy coughed to cover the husky croak in his voice.
The deception didn’t fool Rico and he let out a short bark of a laugh before turning serious. “No. Not that most of the Doms in here wouldn’t grab her in a second if she gave them half a chance.”
As they watched, Summer stopped at a table. Ziggy knew the three men she spoke to—by sight, at least. Although two of the men had their subs with them, he watched in growing aggravation as she was pulled, laughing, onto the lap of Miles Romansky, the owner of the largest trucking firm in the state. The man was well-known as being partial to the more hardcore fetishes, and Ziggy’s whole body stiffened and went on alert as the man pulled her closer, looking up at her with a determined expression on his face.
The feel of Rico’s fingers gripping his arm made him aware that he’d actually taken a step toward them. “It will be fine. Just watch.”
With some reluctance he took his seat again. Unable to relinquish the tension zinging through his body, Ziggy watched in amazement as Summer smiled at the overbearing Dom and whispered something in his ear. The hardened expression erased so that the man smiled and laughed, caressing her generous ass in an almost affectionate way before he kissed her palm briefly and released her so that she could stand.
“Damn!” Ziggy let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“She does have a way about her, doesn’t she?” said Rico, fondness, almost pride in his tone.
She had a way that Ziggy was dying to get to know all right. Preferably with his cock first and her mouth later. Except it seemed to be taking forever for her to reach them. Dammit!
He was distracted momentarily as his view of Summer was blocked by the lady in red. Since her subtle “messages” had failed to do the job, she was trying the more direct approach, and stood in front of him, not saying a word, her “message”, though, quite blatant.
It was patently obvious now to Ziggy why she hadn’t managed to snag his attention on any of her previous forays past him. Compared to the understated elegance of Summer, the “Lady in Red” barely rated a first glance, let alone a second. Brash, a surly curl to her highly glossed lips, even the outfit she wore was like a billboard advertising what she had to offer, rather than one to entice and seductively lure a discerning male. Irritated at having his observation of Summer interrupted, he faced the woman, his expression impassive.
It was the slight slur on the title that made him stiffen.
“Well, Mindy, I’m not sure if you’re new or not, but if you want to get a Dom’s attention, this is not the way to do it. Now move away.”
He glowered at her. “Move. Away.”
When she pouted and walked off in a huff, a breath of relief whistled through his lips, earning him a soft laugh from Rico.
He was annoyed, though, that during that small distraction, another male, one he wasn’t familiar with, had swung Summer out onto the dance floor.
Every possessive, dominant bone in his body hardened as he watched the man hold Summer close, one hand sliding down her back to hold her at waist level while the other one caressed down over the womanly swell of her hip, then buttock, holding her firm against him as they did a slow bump and grind to the heavy sensual beat.
The thought of anyone else touching her like that made him choke on the irritation that surged through him, and when the man’s head dipped down to whisper something in her ear, Ziggy rose from his barstool, hands clenching and unclenching, unable to sit still with the restless energy infecting him. A surge of biting hunger, so strong he could almost taste it, filled him. And he wasn’t the only one—a continuous rumble vibrated through him from the wolf inside.
Ziggy turned to see Rico looking at him, rather than Summer, sappy smile gone. “So, what’s the deal, Rico?” he said, trying to flush the tension from his body and force a casualness to his words in spite of the unreasonable, unfamiliar emotions afflicting him. “Is she yours? Is she taken?”
Rico wasn’t fooled for a second and cast a knowing eye over him. “My, my. I do believe I detect a spark of interest. Will wonders never cease…”
“Smart-ass. Just answer the questions.”
“I don’t know…maybe I should make you sweat a bit…”
“You know, I’m sure that DJ must have a copy of YMCA there somewhere…”
“Oooh, nasty!” Rico’s eyes flared and a mock-snarl tilted his upper lip. “Fine, she’s a very, very dear friend…no, she’s not mine, no, she’s not taken, and…” he locked eyes with Ziggy, “she’s under my personal protection. All my other regulars know it, and now you do too.”
Rico’s eyes turned frosty, the ever-present humor absent for once, his expression deadly serious. “Anyone who hurts her dies. Simple.”
Ziggy was taken aback by the chilling menace in Rico’s tone. But he’d spent too many years reading the men he worked with, fought with through three tours of duty in the Special Forces, tuning in to undercurrents that often told more than words. So his ire of moments before abated slightly as incredulity swept through him at the change that had come over his friend—he’d bet his last dime that Rico was in love with the woman. It was the only explanation he could think of.
Rico looked away as their gazes settled once more on Summer.
“Hang on.” Ziggy swung narrowed eyes at Rico. “Protected, how?”
“Sonofabitch! You’ve fucking bitten her?” He forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Why? And you’d better have a damn good reason.”
Rico sat back, leaning his elbows on the padded armrest of the bar, and raised an eyebrow at Ziggy’s outburst. “My, my. Aren’t we the possessive one.”
Ziggy turned back to Summer, who had left her dance partner—about fucking time!—feeling a crushing need to get closer, touch her, hold her, beat at him as she finally neared them. “She’s mine,” he whispered under his breath, and then wondered what the hell he was saying.
“Oh, really?” Rico flashed him a quick grin then stood as Summer approached.
Damned vamps and their super-sharp hearing!
“Yes, well, you might want to run that by Summer first,” Rico continued. “In here, what Summer wants, Summer gets.” Rico turned to the lady in question, a big smile on his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t little Suzie Wong…”
Suzie Wong? What the hell happened to “Summer”?
“Howdy, cowboy,” a sultry voice purred. “In that getup, a gal…or a guy will be thinkin’ you’re lookin’ for a ride tonight…”
“Wench!” laughed Rico, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I thought I lost the bet. So what’s with your outfit?”
“I decided to take pity on you, old man. Now we can both look ridiculous. By the way, who’s Suzie Wong?”
Ridiculous? thought Ziggy in disbelief. Rico, maybe—no, definitely—but Summer? Hell no! But yeah, the Suzie Wong bit had him beat, too.
“Old movie with William Holden and Nancy Kwan…The World of Suzie Wong…” Rico stopped when two blank faces greeted his words. “Never mind. I’m obviously showing my age…”
“And then some,” mumbled Ziggy. Rico responded with a dour look in reply.
But Ziggy’s attention was pulled back to Summer as she tugged at the dress, the movement of trying to smooth it down over her generous hips just drawing his eyes to the seductive curves his hands were itching to mold and caress. “These dresses are designed for tiny little Asian ladies who have two percent body fat, and the curves of a pre-pubescent teenager—do you have any idea how hard it was to pour my body into this thing? You need to stop Michel feeding me all that Gateau de Sirop. I feel like I’ll bust a seam if I breathe out. God help me if I sneeze.” She fingered the fringe on Rico’s vest and chuckled.
Sexual hunger like he hadn’t felt in years flooded through Ziggy as his eyes followed the full curve of her ass. When she lifted a leg to rest a foot delicately clad in a strappy stiletto on the rung of Rico’s stool, the split in her skirt widened, and Ziggy’s mouth dried out at the generous expanse of thigh she revealed in sheer black stockings.
Rico pulled her close. “Well, it was worth every calorie. You look beautiful. Now come here and give me a kiss.”
Ziggy had to grit his teeth as Summer, laughing, wound her arms around Rico’s neck, the vamp wrapping her in a full body hug that set Ziggy’s teeth on edge. It was hard to say what she really looked like, even close up, since the little mask covered the top half of her face. But that mouth alone was the stuff of fantasies. Small, tipping up at the corners, with a slightly fuller lower lip that just begged to be bitten and tugged on.
His groin clenched when she kissed Rico—and it was no “hello” peck like the other men received. If there was any tongue in there, he might just turn rabid. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to rip her out of the vamp’s arms and drag her away. Run her to ground… Oh yeah, chase her until she submitted, on her hands and knees, offering her swollen, dripping cunt up to him and then cover her body with his, burying himself inside her over and over until… Until what?
A low, warning growl rumbled out of Ziggy’s chest like a long roll of thunder, and he stopped. Shook himself. Sweat had broken out all over his body and he was so close to the change it shocked him. Just to be sure, he held up a trembling hand, relieved to see it looked normal. God, what the hell was wrong with him? The wolf never came out unless he set it free. And here he was about to go all furry and he hadn’t even realized, hadn’t even felt it coming. He’d never been like this with a woman before. Never. He came to the club, purged some demons with a willing sub, got some relief, and slipped back into his life again. No ties, no commitment, and definitely no mating. Just how he liked it.
But this… He had no fucking idea what was wrong with him, but he was sure as hell going to find out.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Copyright 2007 Lora Leigh
St. Martins Griffin Release
June 6, 2007
Sinclair’s Gentleman’s Club
“I resigned” John “Mac” McCoy picked up his drink, sipped, and let the calming heat of the whiskey seep into his system.
“So I heard.” His best friend and now former partner, Jethro Riggs, took the seat across from him, set the whiskey bottle and glass carefully on the table, and leaned back to stare at his friend as he poured his own drink. “Honeymoon isn’t even over yet and your resignation landed on the desk. Wish you had told me. I could have won the office bet on how long you’d make it.”
Jethro’s rakish smile went well with his overly long black hair and wicked blue eyes. The short, scruffy black beard and mustache drew feminine eyes, but the cold, bleak shadows in his gaze held them back.
Mac worried about Jethro. When he left, he knew the other man would go from case to case without stopping to enjoy life. And life was there to be enjoyed.
“I could have used the cash, man.” Jethro’s smile was laced with regret.
Mac snorted at the thought. “Cheaters never win, Jethro.”
“Yeah, yeah. So I hear. So, what are you going to do? Security?”
Mac grinned. There weren’t a lot of jobs out there that appealed to an former undercover F.B.I. agent, but Mac had always made certain he had a fallback position.
“Farming?” Jethro’s eyes narrowed. “Hell, no.”
“I still have that farm in North Carolina. I’ve saved enough to try to make a go at it. With Keiley’s computer work and a little side work myself working internet investigations, we should do well. It beats getting shot at on a regular basis.”
Jethro only shook his head, a knowing light filling his shadowed blue eyes.
“And your membership here?”
That part sucked. Mac stared around the dark wood walls, the open space, the bar at one end of what had once been a grand ballroom, the fireplace crackling at the other end.
In between were two pool tables,and several seating arrangements with large comfortable chairs, televisions, newspapers, and tables a man could put his feet on. But it wasn’t the ambience that drew the members to the club. It was the chance to socialize with men who understood their ways, accepted them, understood them.
“I gave Ian notice earlier,” he said quietly.
He was aware of the bomb he had just dropped, aware that Jethro had been waiting, even more than the others in the club, for the day Mac would choose a third.
The club catered to men with a particular sexual taste. Men who had seen the darkness in the world for whatever reason, and searched for peace in the extremity of sharing their lovers with other men.
Men who worshipped the female body. Who believed sex was an adventure and adventures were always more exciting when shared with someone who understood the particular pleasures to be found in pushing a woman to her sexual limits. In giving her more pleasure than she could have conceived possible.
Mac loved it. He thrived on it. He came here to unwind, to drink, to discuss world affairs, and to either choose a third for his latest lover or to become a third to another man’s lover.
At least, he used to come here for that.
Six months of marriage, and the pressure was beginning to tell on him. The knowledge that the club members were just waiting to see who he would choose to break his wife into the ménage lifestyle he practiced was beginning to fray at his control. Knowing Jethro was growing more distant, more certain that the woman he had given to Mac would never know his touch, was starting to eat at him.
He knew Jethro’s feelings for Keiley. Just as he knew that the other man would have never given into them.
“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Jethro said then. “I thought you were going to.”
He had met Jethro during his first year in Quantico where they had been paired together for a training exercise. Mac’s easier, more relaxed demeanor had slowly rubbed off on the too rigid, too somber Jethro Riggs. And once they learned that ménage were the other’s preferred sexual activity, they had become fast friends.
Not that the friendship hadn’t been without its problems. They were both dominant men, both tended to want to control the sexual situations that involved their women. Until they learned they each had their own distinctive areas that interlaced perfectly in those relationships.
Mac tended to indulged them his lovers emotionally, while Jethro indulged them in more physical areas.
For years he and Jethro had trained together, worked together, and shared their women together.
Until Mac met Keiley.
“She’s heard the rumors.” Mac sipped at his drink, wishing he could just toss it back and let the fiery burn blaze through the regret in his gut.
“And I told her it was in the past.” He looked around the room again before meeting Jethro’s gaze. “It’s going to stay in the past. For now”
Keiley had come to his bed a virgin. Trusting. Innocent. She would never understand her husband’s need to see another man cover her, pumping inside her, nor, he believed, would she be able to handle a ménage that would include a man she didn’t love.
Keiley would have to love any man she took into her bed, even as a third. But he knew the curiosity was there. He had seen it in the flash of heat in her eyes as she questioned him. But Mac knew that right now, introducing her into the idea of a ménage relationship he envisioned wasn’t something Keiley could accept.
Perhaps later. He was counting on later. His new wife was adventurous, fiery, and curious as hell. But her youth held her back whereas with other women, it lent freedom. Keiley’s past experience with gossip and the destruction that came with it, would never allow for the sexual games and the eventual bond Mac intended to see her forge with himself and Jethro.
Until his wife was more settled, until maturity lent her the edge she would need to overcome her fears, that wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t mean Mac was going to forget about it. It just meant that for the time being, his plans would have to wait.
Moving her back to his hometown, would help. Small towns and gossip and the ways of navigating was something Keiley needed to understand. A ménage wasn’t tantamount to the hell she had endured as a child. And maturity would give her the insight she needed on how to handle it. Until she gained that, his own sexual hungers, and Jethro’s would have to wait.
“Doesn’t work that way, Mac,” Jethro sighed then.
“I can make it work.” He was confident of that. “I made this damned job work, I can make anything work.”
Jethro’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, bleak, furious pain and impatience sparkled in the blue depths before it was gone, iced over and the agent he had become returned.
“Speaking of the job, were you any closer to tracking down that internet stalker’s whereabouts? The director was going nuts over that when I left the office.”
Mac shook his head allowing the change of subjet. “I turned the case over to Dell Robert’s he knows the computers better than I do, and he’s just finished up a major case. He has the time to deal with it. I’ll help him online if he needs it.”
The case was drawing a lot of fire. The stalker found his victims online, researched them, acquired their personal information and spent months terrorizing them. In the latest case, he had finally attacked and nearly killed his victim. He was escalating dangerously.
“I’m going to miss you, my friend.” Jethro lifted his drink in a toast. “To the good ol’ days.”
“To the future,” Mac amended, tipping his glass to Jethro’s, then bringing it to his lips before staring around the room once again.
He had drunk here, laughed here, found friends here. Hell, he had even fucked on most of the tables in the room here. Occasionally a married member had petitioned to allow his wife in long enough to get to know the members he had shortlisted to act as a third. Many of those instances had ended up with the ménage playing out before the couple left the club.
There had been two female members at one time. One had married and dropped out of membership, though her husband still occasionally brought home a friend.
That relationship was working out much better than Mac had ever thought it would. Most of the married men in the club had found a way to balance those dark hungers with the women they loved.
Just as most of them had learned their hungers through the darkness of pasts they rarely spoke of, or lives lived within the shadowed corners of deceit and lies.
They all had their reasons for the hungers that tormented the just as Mac did. But for him, the thought of his wife’s happiness meant more to him than satisfying the shadowed specter that lurked beneath his surface.
“Keep in touch, buddy,” Jethro said as he rose to his feet. “It won’t be the same around here without you.”
“I’m just a phone call away.” Mac grinned. “Call anytime.”
But don’t visit. Not for a while. Not until his wife could handle thought of another man in her life as well as Mac.
Jethro nodded, but his gaze was knowing, haunted. He knew what Mac meant.
As his friend walked away Mac sat back in his chair, gazed around again, and tried to let the atmosphere seep inside him.
A frown tugged at his brow, though. He’d have to remember to remind Dell to requestion the latest victim and her husband. There was something that kept nagging at him about her statement. Something she had left out. Something he knew he should have asked her, but he couldn’t think of what.
He would call Dell from the house tonight, and then put it behind him.
Within the next four weeks he would be out of Virginia and backing Scotland Neck. North Carolina was far enough away from his old friends and his hungers to allow him to contain them for a while.
Keiley was worth the sacrifice. There had never been another woman who could make him feel as she did. But from the moment he met her, he had realized there was something about her that warmed the cold reaches of his soul and eased the dark loneliness that had always been so much a part of him.
A man didn’t walk away from that. No matter the obstacles. Once he saw his future in a feminine gaze, he found a way to make all parts of that relationship work. And that what he was doing. Finding a way to make it work for all of them.
Especially Keiley. Her natural desires and adventurous personality had been restrained. The gossip concerning he father’s embezzling from the company he worked had destroyed her. At seventeen she had lost her home,, her father had been imprisoned and her mother had omitted suicide.
There had been no one left for their community to punish except Keiley. They had watched her, gossiped about her, predicted her downfall and her lack of morals. If he dared let her know how desperately he needed to see her beneath Jethro now, it would terrify her. The rejection of it would be instant, and it would never falter.
He would have to steer her gently toward it. And once she grew to accept a need for those darker hungers that he saw in her eyes, then he would have steer the relationship gently as well.
Jethro craved Keiley. He had seen her first and pushed her at Mac, despite his hunger for her. Mac knew the way to a woman’s heart, but he also knew his friend. Keiley had
already stolen Jethro’s heart.
Not that Jethro would ever admit it or do anything about it. Mac knew that. A committed relationship was something that Jethro shied from as fiercely as Keiley from gossip.
His lips quirked at the thought. The woman he loved and the friend that was more than a brother to him. The three of them together would make a hell of a relationship. Once Mac managed to get the three of them together.
Getting there would be the hard part. Waiting would strain his patience to its limits he feared. And if it never happened?
He would live with it. Ultimately it came down to Keiley. If she could accept it. If she could love Jethro with the same intensity that she loved Mac, then it would work.
If it didn’t? If he lost them both, it would destroy him. Obstacles stood in his path. It wouldn’t be easy. But if his hunch was right, then the future that could stretch out before all three of them was one worth fighting for. It was worth risking for.
Sharing his wife was considered a forbidden pleasure. It wasn’t called that without reason. It was breaking rules, stepping past boundaries, and facing his own fears. His fear of losing. His fear of becoming to controlling.
In the end, either they would all win, or they would all lose. Mac was betting, he was praying, on the win.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Lets start first with this weekends booksigning.
I'll be in Kingsport Tennessee this weekend, signing all my available print books. So, if you're close enough to come out visit, we would love to see you. Also signing with me is Trista Michaels you can visit her website at www.tristamichaels.com She'll be signing for her novella in White Hot Holidays from Ellora's Cave.
Also there will be the owner of Samhain Publishing, Christina Brashear with many Samhain Prints for your pleasure. You'll want to check out these books and if you have any questions for Samhain she will be there to answer them.
That books signing will be held at Book Rack, 2400 Ft. Henry Drive, Kingsport, TN 37664
Phone # 423-245-1234
We look forward to seeing you there.
And what's upcoming?
Be watching in the next few days for excerpts from Forbidden Pleasures and Hidden Agenda's releasing June 2007. I promise, just another day or two and I'll have those here.
Thanks for checking and I hope to see you at the booksigning this weekend.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Saturday, March 03, 2007
I hear Nauti Boy has already been sighted at many bookstores. Readers comments have already started coming in and so far, it's being enjoyed. Have you found your copy yet?
They're the cousins of the Men of August. Three cousins who have their own demons to combat, and their own battles to fight. And perhaps the hardest battle of all, is that of love.
“If you're looking for something out of the ordinary”* explore the erotic realm of Lora Leigh as forbidden desire comes alive in the darkness of an irresistible affair…
Too weak to resist his step-sister’s attempts at seduction, Rowdy Mackay left home eight years ago. Duty as a US Marine put safe distance between temptation and the nubile Kentucky vixen with persuasive desires of her own. Now he’s returned home, his fantasies fueled, ready to engage the young woman in the kind of erotic games that have earned him and his two cousins a Nauti-boy reputation in three counties.
Once it was Kelly’s dream too—to feel the heat of the boy she desired. But a brutal attack from a stalker still on the prowl has left Kelly terrified of the dark unknown, and of a man’s touch. Now as fear and desire converge, Rowdy fights for the only woman he ever loved, to save her from the deadly threats of a stranger, to rid her of her demons, and to satisfy a hunger more powerful than either can imagine.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Thank you, the readers. Without the joy you find in my books, this dream that has followed me since I attempted to write my first book, so many years ago, has come true. I'm still floating on air. Tony said he's going to have to start peeling me off the ceiling soon. For the moment, he's content to leave me floating though. LOL
I'm floating, but my computer is with me. I'm currently working on incorporating copy edits of Forbidden Pleasure into my file this weekend, and Monday I start completing Nauti Nights.
Oh, the cover to that one rocks.
But, coming first is Naut Boy
A Berkley HEAT Trade release March 6. 2007
Pre-Order from Amazon
They're the Men of Augusts Kentucky cousins, and they know how to heat up the night, and the nauti-est imaginations.
Rowdy Mackay has waited years for Kelly to grow up, to be mature enough to accept the sexual games he and his cousins have enjoyed for years.
Now, fresh from the Marines, Rowdy is home, only to learn that a stalker and a vicious attack now threaten the woman he's loved for years. But has something changed within Rowdy as well? As he fights the madman intent on destroying his woman, Rowdy learns that perhaps its not the games he needs so much as the woman. A woman to tame Lake Cumberlands naughtiest Nauti Boy.
This was originally an e-book release from Samhain Publishing The new version has been expanded with more suspense added and additional heat. Parts of the plot have been revised, but the Nauti cousins are still cousins to the Men of August and their still hotter than hell, or so my advanced readers and my editor claimes. LOL
Get ready to heat up that unpredictable March wether with one of Lake Cumberlands hottest and Nauti-est bad boys, Rowdy Mackay.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Clint and Joe are ready to roll into your imaginations and your sexiest dreams. All you have to do is go out and get out them. Knew there was a catch didn't you? LOL
DANGEROUS GAMES and REAL MEN DO IT BETTER featuring FOR MAGGIES SAKE
the second and third installments on the Tempting Seals series. Get yours, Tuesday, February 6, 2007
St. Martins Press
Navy SEAL Clint “Iceman” McIntire didn’t earn his nickname by being a coward. Or a quitter. Having crushed an infamous drug cartel in Colombia, Clint was nothing short of an American hero. Now he’s home, on a much-needed leave, but instead of some R&R, he finds himself neck-deep in trouble with his best friend’s little sister, Morganna Chavez, the only woman who has the power to bring him to his knees. . .
Morganna has been secretly working with the DEA to uncover a thriving date-rape drug, which leads her to a shadowy faction that is more deadly than anything her team has ever encountered. Now it’s up to Clint to keep this beautiful, determined agent out of harm’s way, even while the passion between them threatens to consume them. Soon Clint’s greatest mission will be not just keeping Morganna safe, but getting her into his arms and never letting go.
Ten Years Before
Clint McIntyre, twenty five years old. A Navy SEAL. A fully grown, sensual, dominant male. He was a man that other men looked to in respect. A man who had grown in confidence and in power. He wasn’t a child fighting to hide the abuse he suffered any longer. He was a man who tolerated nothing less than his best from himself and the men he fought with.
But he was a man that nearly came to his knees that night at the sight of one small teenaged Lolita decked out in a short skirt, a thin pale blue blouse and high heels. Dark brown hair flowed around her in a multitude of curls and gray eyes sparkled back at him with a hint of laughter, and interest. Too much interest.
He was a grown man, aware of his sexuality, his tastes and his hungers. To even consider the beginning pulses of awareness he could feel moving through him was a crime. One he refused to allow to take hold.
She was his best friends sister. She was his sister’s best friend. And normally she was the bane of his existence.
Morganna Chavez had been tormenting him in one form or another since the day she learned how to walk and toddled to him to smack him on his eleven year old head with her bottle to get his attention. She had been getting his attention in one form of another ever since.
He hadn’t expected this though. That glimmer of awareness. The way he noticed the full high breasts beneath her thin blouse, and the long, shapely legs beneath the short skirt. Pink lips glistening with a soft gloss and gray eyes that looked smoky, seductive, rather than immature and filled with child-like wonder.
He deserved to be shot.
“So, are you going to stand there like a knot on a log or are you going to dance with me?” She propped one hand on her hip and smiled slowly. “It is my birthday after all.”
His lips twitched at her flirtatiousness. She had been flirting with him for as long as he could remember too.
He stared around the backyard; the lights strung through the trees cast a soft glow over the thirty some teenagers enjoying the party her brother had allowed.
Reno had lost his mind this year. He glanced across the yard where his best friend, Morganna’s brother was testing the punchbowl for alcohol to the laughing amusement of the kids gathered around the table.
They were kids. Morganna was a kid.
“Go dance with one of your friends, brat.” He smiled to soften the rejection. He didn’t have to fake his affection for her, she was as much a part of his life as his sister was, when he was home. He did care for her. Deeply.
“Coward.” She flicked him an amused look from beneath her lashes. A look far too mature for her years, and far too knowing.
No man that he knew would ever call him a coward. He was fierce. Strong. Deadly. He was scared to death to be within a hundred feet of her.
He shook his head and laughed at her. A soft indulgent laugh that had her brows drawing together and her gray eyes dimming with a hint of vulnerabity.
“Go play Morganna,” he told her gently as he turned away. “Leave the grown ups alone.”
He should have never agreed to chaperone the party. He wouldn’t have if he had known what he would face, if he had even suspected that for even a second in time that he would see Morganna as anything other than his best friends sister. Or his sister’s best friend.
Two years later
She was eighteen. Tall and lithe, a gypsy, a hellion, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. Two years, a multitude of lectures, and endless nights of dreams he should have been shot for, and the awareness of her had only grown.
Sexy, sensual Morganna.
“When are you leaving?” They were on the back porch of her home, the home she shared with her brother Reno since the death of their parents.
The elderly aunt who had once stayed with Morganna while Clint was on assignment hadn’t arrived, but there was no reason to wait for her. Was there? Yet, Clint was standing there waiting on her for Reno, who had been forced to leave earlier than usual to take command of the small force of Navy SEALs he was leading into a mission. Reno was comfortable leaving her home alone this time. Clint wasn’t.
He also wasn’t comfortable sitting on the back porch, his jeans tighter than normal, his skin too sensitive. The situation was getting out of control. Two years he had fought this awareness of her, and it was only growing rather than dimming. He was only growing hungrier, and that scared the hell out of him.
“Earth to Clint,” Morganna announced when he hadn’t answered her, waving her hand in front of his face as he shifted in his chair and thanked God she couldn’t see the erection swelling mindlessly beneath his jeans.
“I head out day after tomorrow.” He shot her an irritated glare as she leaned against the post directly in front of his porch chair.
Right in front of him, where he could see the rise of her full breasts against the soft cotton shirt she wore, and received the full effect of those long gorgeous legs encased in snug denim.
“Everyone’s leaving me,” she said softly, staring over his shoulder with a wistful expression. “Raven’s got her internship in the art design school this fall, she’ll not even be in the state. You and Reno will be gone. It’s going to be lonely here.”
Morganna had accepted a scholarship at Atlanta University to stay close to home.
“You have your friends,” he reminded her, forcing back a grimace at the thought of the pimpled faced boys she ran with in that crowd.
“Yeah.” She nodded firmly. “I do. I’ll be fine.”
He watched her inhale slowly, deeply and tightened his jaw at the realization that he had managed to hurt her. Though how he didn’t have a clue.
“Aunt Beth remarked that this is the last time she’ll have to stay with me,” she said then, her tone a little too bright. “Reno was a little slow on this one. I think he’s afraid I’ll burn the house down or something.”
“Reno worries about you being alone.” He worried. God did he worry.
“You could stay with me,” she said softly. “You have two more days before you leave. I could call Aunt Beth. She would be happy to be able to stay home with her flowers and her neighbors.”
His gaze sharpened on her face as he swallowed tightly and rose quickly from his chair.
“Won’t work, brat.” He forced the words past his throat. “I have to get ready to head out.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She nodded quickly, pushing away from the post as she moved to go around him. “Look, head on back to that rinky dink little apartment of yours and whatever flavor of the week you have in your bed. I’m sick of watching you track each vehicle down the road praying its Aunt Beth. I’ll be fine without you.”
He caught her arm as she moved for the back door, pulling her around and making the biggest damned mistake of his life. Because he saw her tears. Because he saw the hurt in her eyes as she turned away.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said softly. “I know what you’re offering Morganna. Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to do that.”
Her expression twisted, determination, defiance, and God help him, adoration filling her eyes. She saw him as some damned knight there to fulfill all her girlish dreams. He was a bastard for even daring to consider touching her. And he wasn’t, he assured himself. He wanted to touch her, but he was only enough that wants wouldn’t hurt him.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you Clint.”
“No.” He shook his head firmly, maintaining his hold on her arm as his other hand lifted to touch her cheek gently. His thumb slid over her lips, just because he needed to know if they were as soft as they looked. “You have a crush on me. I’m the only man you can’t twist around your little finger.” He smiled gently. “That’s all Morganna. And nothing can come of it. Nothing can happen but the loss of something I cherish. Your friendship.”
“I can’t pretend,” she whispered passionately. “You still see me as a child. I’m not a child.”
“Then don’t act like one,” he suggested in return.
Pain flared in her eyes a second before he something more. Determination yes. But something shocking, something almost frightening. He saw hunger. Sexual, intense, and more than he ever wanted to see in her eyes.
“Just kiss me goodbye then,” Her breath hitched. “Just a little kiss.”
“Morganna.” He held her still, staring down at her in regret. Regret for more than she could ever understand. Then he made the mistake of stroking over those soft lips once again.
They parted, the warmth of her mouth searing his flesh as her tongue peeked out to swipe over his thumb before her lips parted and her sharp little teeth nipped at the pad.
And he lost his mind. Hell, he couldn’t even claim insanity, because even a crazy man would have walked away. Instead, in less than a second he had her in his arms, his hand snagging her hair at the back of her neck to pull her head back, and his lips covering hers.
She was innocent. He tasted it in her kiss. Felt it in the shock that stiffened her body as he gave her a man’s kiss. A man’s hunger. Slanting his lips over hers he fought to consume in one kiss, all the hunger, the sweetness and the insane need possible. To hold inside his memories.
Sharp, hard kisses parted her lips. His tongue licked over them, before thrusting inside, before possessing her in a way he knew he should have never tempted.
Because she was sweeter than sweet. Hot as hell. And the pleasure ripped through his senses like a cascading explosion as she moaned against his mouth.
As quickly has he had taken her lips, he released her, jerking back to glare down at her as she stared back in shock, in a pleasure that darkened her gray eyes and flushed her heart shaped face.
“It’s never going to happen,” he snapped, gripping her shoulders to give her a little shake that he prayed would instill some common sense inside her. “Little party girls and Navy SEALs don’t work out Morganna. Stick to the little boys you run with and leave the men alone. You’ll be a hell of a lot safer that way.”
Before she could argue, and he knew she would argue, he turned and strode quickly from the porch and across the yard to the car he left parked in the back lot. Staying with her any longer was out of the question.
Morganna at twenty-one
Being alone sucked. Morganna stared around the living room of the house she had once shared with her parents and her brother. Her parents were dead, her brother was gone more often than he was home, and one day, he wouldn’t be here at all.
Her best friend Raven spend most of her evenings and nights studying the graphics design she had grown so adept at, and Morganna was stuck in an office job she hated.
And she was alone. Because she didn’t have the common sense to let go of a dream and a man that didn’t want her.
She walked through the living room, moving to the shelf of pictures she kept and the memories they brought.
Clint was in most of them. With her, her brother and her parents. Handsome. Tough. Hard. He had always been harder than he should have been, tougher than anyone else around him. And he had ruined her heart for any other man.
But, she was still alone.
Tucked between two of the pictures were the pamphlets she had kept from the Academy. The Law Enforcement Academy was accepting applicants.
She had meant to discuss it with Reno when he was home the week before, but the stay had been a brief one, and he had been exhausted. He had slept the two days he had been home only to have to leave again.
She laid her head against the shelf and closed her eyes. He would worry if he knew anyway. And Clint, jerk that he was, would do everything to stop her. And he could stop her. He had connections in Atlanta, connections she couldn’t afford to let him use. As long as no one knew she was Reno Chavez’s sister, then there wasn’t a chance of anyone saying anything to Clint. And what were the chances to the guys at the Academy would really care to call Reno and let him know jack. Especially if his name wasn’t on her list of contacts.
She tapped her nail against the papers.
She was bored and she was alone. She wanted more than secretarial job going nowhere and a silent house every night. Like Reno, she wanted to make a difference. She wanted more than to keep dreaming of something that didn’t exist.
She sighed wearily. Restlessly. She was tired of just being Reno’s sister. Or Clint McIntyre’s responsibility when Reno wasn’t around. She was tired of being put on a shelf and taken down to perform when they decided to visit.
She was strong enough to be who and what she wanted to be. And she didn’t want to wait on Clint any longer. She pulled the papers from the shelf, shoved them in her purse and grabbed her car keys. She wasn’t waiting any longer.