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A Reminder and a Question (Contest)
Tuesday, August 9th, 2016

A quick reminder! This offer ends today!

Last Day Free!


A woman desperate to escape her marriage bed wages a “war of the bath” against her handsome, brutish husband…

This story is FREE today!

Get your copy now!

Thank you!

And thanks to those of you who bought my two latest releases! It’s much appreciated. And I am hearing loud and clear that y’all want sequels for With His SEAL Team! A couple of you are hoping Harley comes into the picture, too! Naughty girls! If you haven’t picked up a copy of either SEAL story yet, just click on the covers…

SOWithHisSEALTeam_600  BabyItsYou_600

The Question

When is it too many? In a menage, I mean. I’ve written menage scenes with as many as 6 people in a very large bed, although most often it’s three or four. And I don’t seem to have a problem keeping all those moving parts connected to the right player. So choreography isn’t the issue. :) So, you tell me.

What is your favorite number?

One lucky commenter will get a small Amazon gift card! Don’t be shy!

Can I interest you in a SEAL and/or a Knight? (One’s FREE!)
Saturday, August 6th, 2016

Since just Tuesday, I’ve had two new releases! And they couldn’t be more different. One’s set in a medieval castle, the other’s set on a Texas ranch. One features a sexy knight in armor. The other features a wounded vet donning a cowboy hat. And you’ll be wanting to read both, I have no doubt. But I’m running a special deal, for just a a few days on the knight to save your pocket book, so you can afford to buy both. And can you think of a better way to spend your weekend than curled up with your eReader meeting Roland the knight and Carter the SEAL? You know you want to…

First, because this one’s more urgent…

Tamed by a Knight


A woman desperate to escape her marriage bed wages a “war of the bath” against her handsome, brutish husband…

This story is FREE for a very limited time!

Get your copy now!

This one, you don’t want to resist…

Baby, It’s You


Carter Vance, Jr. stands at the fork in the road. Wounded in action, the Navy SEAL has a decision to make: whether to find work with a spec ops unit, or return to his family ranch in Texas and repair his fractured relationship with his dying father and the woman he wronged. Complicating the decision is his reignited attraction to Melanie Schaeffer and his confusion over his feelings for his dead brother’s little girl, whom Melanie has raised since his brother’s and her sister’s deaths by a terrorist’s bomb.

Get your copy now!

And one final note…

Thanks for making this a #1 bestselling short story!



When Sara’s stepbrother surprises her with an early return from a mission, he brings two of his Navy SEAL teammates along…

Get your copy now!

What readers are saying:

“…erotic writing at its best…”

“…This book was fabulous… A fun story, a whole story, interesting dialogue, and hot, hot, scenes. Well worth your time. I’ll be seeking out more by this author.”


Baby, It’s You (Contest)
Tuesday, August 2nd, 2016

UPDATE: The winner is…Colleen C!

* * * * *

Have you ordered your copy? Do you love Navy SEALs? Cowboys? Reunion stories? Well, if you do, Baby, It’s You should please you. I’ve included an excerpt below, just in case you’re waffling. :)

The story will release in the early morning hours on Friday. And yes, it’s every bit as sexy its cover. So, take the plunge. Have I ever steered you wrong?


Baby, It’s You is the 5th story in my Uncharted SEALs series. For a chance to win one of the four prequel stories in the series, answer me this…

What do you love about Navy SEAL stories? 

Baby, It’s You


Carter Vance, Jr. stands at the fork in the road. Wounded in action, the Navy SEAL has a decision to make: whether to find work with a spec ops unit, or return to his family ranch in Texas and repair his fractured relationship with his dying father and the woman he wronged. Complicating the decision is his reignited attraction to Melanie Schaeffer and his confusion over his feelings for his dead brother’s little girl, whom Melanie has raised since his brother’s and her sister’s deaths by a terrorist’s bomb.

Get your copy now!

Read an excerpt

Carter walked into the house and had to remove his glasses due to the dimness inside. Nothing appeared to have changed, save for a new carpet atop the oak floors in the family room. He supposed his father had replaced the raggedy Navajo rug his mother had chosen due to Melanie’s influence. His father had always had a soft spot for women and girls.

Footsteps flew from the kitchen, so fast he tensed until he realized the person wasn’t some insurgent, but instead a slender little girl in blue jeans and boots. Emmy.

Carter didn’t want to feel it, but his chest filled with a sudden indrawn breath as he stared for the first time at the little girl with the red-gold curls. Daniel’s child. His now, by law. Despite his best effort to thwart his brother’s will by simply ignoring the lawyer’s letters.

Commander Callahan had stepped in and forced him to acknowledge his duty. And although he’d decided not to take her himself, Carter had changed his will, signed over his life insurance, and had payments removed from his checks to provide for her support although she hardly needed it.

Lastly, he’d assigned guardianship to Melanie Schaeffer, knowing he was giving the little girl her best chance.

Emmy stopped only a foot away and chewed on her bottom lip as she frowned up at him. “You the seffish bastard who won’ come see Gampa?”

“Emmy!” Melanie’s voice came from behind him as she hurried past to kneel beside the girl. “That’s not a word we use.”

“But Tildy said I was seffish for eatin’ all the snickerdoodles.”

“The B word, Emmy.” Melanie blew out a breath. “We don’t use that word.”

“But Unca Lee says it all the time.”

“Uncle Lee needs to be more careful with his words,” Melanie muttered. She lifted her gaze to Carter. “Sorry about that. This one hears everything and repeats it. Be warned.”

Carter couldn’t help freeing the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Sounds like she’s a Vance, through and through.”

Melanie slowly rose to face him.

Without the shield of his sunglasses, he hoped his gaze didn’t give him away. She was still lovely, despite the white scar that trailed down one cheek. Her face was still rounded and youthful. Her curves every bit as lush as they’d been the first day they’d met. He felt a stirring in his groin and grimaced. “I should unpack,” he said, lifting his duffel bag.

“Sure,” she said, tucking a lock of thick red-gold hair behind her ear. Still flustered, she barely met his gaze.

Seeing her fingers freeze beside her ear, he knew she remembered how he’d tucked her hair there, right before he’d kissed her. Or was she pausing because she’d forgotten the hair hid the worst of the scar. His chest tightened.

“You should see your father,” she said softly.

“That’s why I’m here,” he said, knowing his tone had roughened. From sympathy for the pain she’d suffered. Not because her tone chided him to move along. His relationship with his father, or rather, the lack of, wasn’t her business. Dropping his gaze, he bent toward Emmy and reached out, lifting her small chin with a finger. “Good to meet you, Emmy.”

Her green eyes flashed, and a coy smile plumped her small doll’s mouth. “Nice to meet you, Unca Carter.”

As he walked away, he acknowledged the shard of pain that stabbed at his gut. He’d been an ass ignoring her existence. But that could change. If he took the job in Dallas, rather than return to his unit, they’d all have to put up with his regular visits.

He climbed the stairs, slower than he would have liked. The repaired ligaments surrounding his knee were still tender and would be for months. His knee worked well enough, but he hadn’t gone to therapy in a week, and stiffness was setting in. Once he reached the upstairs landing, he strode toward the door at the end—the master suite his father had shared with his mother.

The door opened. An older woman, her face lined, her hair iron-gray, and wearing scrubs exited, and her eyebrows rose. “Took your time,” she chided.

“Hey there, Miz Davis.” She’d been the school nurse when he’d attended middle school and had bandaged many of his scraped knuckles. “He awake?”

“I saw you come up the drive. He’s waiting.”

Carter set his duffel beside the door and entered. Stepping inside was like stepping into a museum. Every artifact carefully reflecting the era of Susan Vance. Her vanity still stood in front of the window with her mirrored tray filled with perfume bottles and a silver-backed hairbrush. Framed photographs, all featuring her smiling face, lined the dresser. While there were pictures of her with his father or his brother Daniel, not surprisingly, there wasn’t one featuring him. As he approached the bed, he hardened his jaw.

His father’s long frame dominated the king-sized four-poster. His eyes were closed, tubing stretched one ear to the other, stubs disappearing into his nose. God, he must hate that. Being seen like this. An invalid. Carter cleared his throat.

His father’s eyes slowly blinked open. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

The man spoke in a voice that wasn’t his. Too raspy, too frail. Carter didn’t want to feel pain, but he couldn’t help it. He lowered into the chair beside the bed. “Hi, Dad.”

His father’s gaze roamed his body, dipping down to his legs. “Heard you tussled with a roadside bomb.”

Carter let one side of his mouth slide upward in a wry grin. “Left a crater. Only tore up my knee. I think I won.”

His father’s grunt was familiar, if weak. “Can you still sit a horse?”

Carter narrowed his eyes. “Why? Will I be useless if I can’t?”

A frown deepened the wrinkles stretched across his forehead. “You liked riding. Would hate it if you lost that, too.”

The look he gave Carter said he understood what loss of mobility was like. Carter swallowed, not wanting to feel any sympathy for the old man, but his dad had always been a force of nature. He was thinner. Shockingly so. Now, he looked as though a breeze would blow him away. “You make it sound like I plan to stick around,” he said, his voice thicker than before.

Carter, Sr.’s blue gaze was as icy as ever. “Aren’t you?”

Before he answered, Carter glanced toward the window. “I’m considering job offers. Maybe one with an outfit in Dallas. I might still finish my last tour. If the docs will clear me.”

His dad’s gaze went to his knee again. “You end up in Dallas, you gonna be a weekend cowboy?”

Carter shook his head. “Won’t be weekends. But I would spend my downtime here. If I’m welcome.”

His father’s face turned away.

Carter thought he might have gone to sleep, and he shifted in his chair, preparing to rise.

“Man has a lot of time to think…when he’s stuck in a bed.”

Something Carter knew to be all too true. Sensing where the conversation might be heading, Carter tensed, his fingers digging into the faded flower upholstery covering the chair.

“I’m not sayin’ it wasn’t your fault,” his father said. “I’m sayin’…I forgive you.”

Carter squeezed his eyes shut. How long had he waited to hear those words? Spoken in a voice as raspy as fine sandpaper, his father’s statement didn’t give him the rush of relief he’d always dreamed about. Instead, anger flooded his veins. Remembering his dad was sick—he wasn’t about to upset him and have yet another death on his hands—Carter stood.

“Got someplace to be?” his father asked, turning his head slowly to lock his gaze with Carter’s.

“Anywhere but here,” Carter whispered, then turned on his heel a little too sharply and bit down hard to keep from groaning. With his dignity drawn tightly around him, he limped away. Stomping down the hallway, he nearly missed the sight of the slim body charging up the last steps.

Emmy glanced upward and gave him a smile. “Gampa wants a story.”

“You read?” he asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. What was she? Four?

“Nah. But he likes my stories. ’Specially ones about me and the dragon.”

“You know a dragon?”

Her eyebrows lowered into a fiercely funny frown. “Don’t you know anything? Dragons aren’t real.” She jammed both hands on her hips.

He would have chuckled, but he sensed she’d be affronted, and he didn’t want her angry at him. A pang hit him square in the chest. He’d missed so much of her growing-up years. Done it purposely, but he hadn’t considered how he’d feel about the child. He’d also thought she was likely better off never knowing him. It wasn’t like he’d ever planned to leave the SEALs. Not until he was on the verge of being mustered out against his will.

But here he stood. Facing down a child who, despite her cherubic features, looked every inch a Vance with her stubborn stance and scowl. Daniel’s child. Not for the first time, he felt regret his brother would never have the chance to know her like this.

But he was here. Now. And perhaps, ready to take on the challenge.

Footsteps hurried up the stairs. He glanced beyond Emmy to Melanie as she climbed toward him. Another regret in a lovely package. He’d wronged her as well. “He’s awake. We spoke.”

“I take it that didn’t go well?” Her gaze was wary.

He shrugged. “Depends on your definition of well.”

A frown dug a line between her brows. “Whatever it is between the two of you, you need to get over yourself. You might not love him, but plenty of people inside this house do.”

A small hand tugged at the leg of his jeans. “You don’t love Gampa?”

Melanie arched a brow in warning.

He quickly smoothed his expression, knowing he had to be a little scary-looking to a child when he was angry. “Course I do, Emmy. But your Gampa and I haven’t seen each other in a while.”

She rocked back and forth on her boot heels. “I ain’t seen Petey Whitehead in a month. I might wanna punch him when I do.”

“Emmy…” Shaking her head, Melanie blew out a breath. “She spends too much time with Lee and the hands.”

Carter grunted. “She’s gonna inherit this place. It’s not a bad thing she’s got a bit of a bite.”

Melanie darted him a glance. “Dinner’s at six. Don’t be late. Tilda won’t like it.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Do not let her set my plate. She might spit in my food.”

Melanie shook her head and anger flashed in her green eyes. “Does every word have to be negative or sarcastic?”

“If ya can’t say somepin’ nice…” came a soft mutter from below.

Carter guessed he did deserve a lecture from a kid. “I’m sorry, Mel. I’ll do better.”

She stepped closer and tilted her head to meet his gaze. “This isn’t easy for anyone. We were doing fine. Emmy was happy. Things are about to change…again.”

Seeing the shimmer of tears in her eyes pitched his stomach to his toes. He didn’t know what to say, because every word that formed in his head would have been another unkind deflection. So, Carter did the only thing he could think of to escape her glossy, leaf-green eyes. He reached out one arm and pulled her against his chest.

For a moment, she stiffened, but then she gave him her weight, sagging against him. Her hands smoothed around his sides, and fingertips dug gently into his back as she returned the embrace.

And just as it had happened all those years ago, something settled into place inside Carter’s heart. He felt warmth. Yearning. He felt home.

A Glance Back At July and A Look Toward August
Sunday, July 31st, 2016

Dear Readers and Friends,

Following is the monthly wrap-up I sent to my newsletter subscribers. Just a catch-up to let everyone know what’s new and what’s coming.

Thanks to everyone for your well wishes and prayers. The 7-year-old sailed through her second surgery. Her recovery is going to be long and grueling. But she’s in good spirits when she isn’t complaining about boredom (she’s confined to bed, for the foreseeable future).

I’m still trying to catch with everything I’ve let slide. Keep reading. Below, I have reminders of new stories you can pick up now and lovely, tempting covers for what’s coming in August!

Thanks again for your support–especially for your emails and Facebook messages! You lift me up!

A Glance Back At July

SEALs of Summer

SEALs of Summer 3: Military Romance Superbundle~Navy SEAL Style

This includes 11 Navy SEAL stories from top authors in the genre, and includes my story Baby, It’s You!

Get your copy at Amazon!


SOWithHisSEALTeam 600

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His SEAL Team

When Sara’s stepbrother surprises her with an early return from a mission, he brings two of his Navy SEAL teammates along…

Get your copy at Amazon!


SexObjects approved

Sex Objects: Erotic Romance for Women

The term sex object brings to mind a curvaceous starlet on a casting couch or an iconic, bee-stung-lipped beauty being pursued by a powerful, capable man. In Sex Objects, Devlin turns that concept upside down by allowing the woman to objectify a handsome, sensual man, using the concepts of role reversal and power play, but from a female perspective, to create something evocative and fun for the feminine, romance-reader.

A record executive plays hardball with her latest star in “Hush.” In “Taste Test,” a food critic is seduced with a gastronomic feast by a master chef. “Dark Circus” enchants with a story about a circus owner and a young accountant exploring a D/s relationship. A celebutante and her bodyguard get “Slap Happy.” In Devlin’s own “Butled,” a famous writer succumbs to the tender manipulations of her butler. Lush settings and creative cliche-busting will delight readers eager to embrace the passionate and surprising couplings.

These women are masters of their own domain, in charge and proud…capable of using sex for pleasure’s sake…but ultimately succumbing to the pull of desire and love created by the “objects” of their desire…

Get your copy at Amazon!


RaptorsDesire 600

Raptor’s Desire
Planet Desire, Book 5

She’s held captive by her dream lover…

After a month-long sleep filled with dreams of adark-skinned lover in a glass castle beneath the sand, Captain AndromedaO’Keefe awakens in her suspension chamber to discover her dangerous cargo hasescaped. Worse, naked and at his mercy, she learns her sexy, forbidden dreamsweren’t hers alone.

Khalim Padja of the Raptor Clan has a date witha prison cell. Using his dream-share gift, he invades the wary captain’s dreamsto seduce her. But time is running short to win her heart and his freedom.

Get your copy at Amazon!


A Look Toward August

Of course, there will be a new Stepbrothers Stepping Out story–but I don’t have a cover yet, because, uh yeah, I haven’t written it yet. I’m trying to narrow down the possible themes. Maybe you can help me… Which of these appeals to you most?

With His Construction Crew
With His Wranglers
With His Warriors
With His Biker Club
With His Starship Crew
With His Ranger Team

In the meantime, Baby, It’s You, an Uncharted SEALs story, releases August 5th! Before We Kissdoesn’t release until September 20th, but I couldn’t resist sharing the cover with you! (And psst! It’s available for pre-order now!)

Following it will be Warrior’s Conquest: A Medieval Timetravel Romance on August 16!

Sweet Succubus will release as soon as I finish revisions. Don’t you love that cover?!

BeforeWeKiss 600
SweetSuccubus 600
Warrior sConquest 600
The Captor Becomes the Prisoner in RAPTOR’S DESIRE! (Contest–Two Winners!)
Tuesday, July 26th, 2016

UPDATE: The two winners are…Michelle and Sandy Ebel!

* * * * *


Ready for another off-world adventure filled with sexy space travelers? How about a hero with “special gifts”? Yeah, here’s a hero you could never escape, because he can slip into you mind—anytime, anywhere… And his method of tyranny for my heroine? Straight up, dirty seduction. Enjoy the excerpt at the bottom of this post. Be sure to enter the contest! I can’t wait to hear what you think of my story…

Raptor’s Desire


She’s held captive by her dream lover…

After a month-long sleep filled with dreams of a dark-skinned lover in a glass castle beneath the sand, Captain Andromeda O’Keefe awakens in her suspension chamber to discover her dangerous cargo has escaped. Worse, naked and at his mercy, she learns her sexy, forbidden dreams weren’t hers alone.

Khalim Padja of the Raptor Clan has a date with a prison cell. Using his dream-share gift, he invades the wary captain’s dreams to seduce her. But time is running short to win her heart and his freedom.

Get your copy here!


Two winners will choose one of my previous Planet Desire stories! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

If aliens landed and offered us space travel,
would you take them up on their offer?

You can win one of these stories…

Desire's Prisoner Desire's Slave

PlanetDesire_600 ThePleasureBot_400

Excerpt from Raptor’s Desire

I dreamt of him. My dark warrior.

He pulled me from a deep REM cycle with the force of his summons. Now, standing with my toes sinking into heat, I found myself on a ridge of shifting sand—red as Mars and as hot as the fury of his gaze. And I was naked. Again.

Rays from an orange sun beat down on my skin. Wind lifted my hair and brushed it against my nipples. Even knowing he was angry, my stomach tightened, and my breasts grew heavy with desire. His hard, golden-eyed gaze raked my body, pinning me like a rabbit between his namesake’s talons. And yet, I yearned to thread my fingers through his long, dark hair and drag his mouth toward mine. He had taught me to crave the taste of his lips.

“I shouldn’t be dreaming,” I said, breathless with anticipation of what new sensual wonder we would explore.

“Are you?” His deep voice rumbled, and yet his lips didn’t move. He stood as still as a pillar, naked as I was. Aroused.

“I must be. How else am I here with you?” Emboldened by the thought that within my dream I was free to explore my fantasy, I reached to touch his face. He didn’t move as I brushed his sun-warmed skin and feathered a light touch over his high cheekbones and sharply defined nose. My fingers paused at his mouth, and then I swept my thumb over his lower lip and pressed inside. The tip of his tongue stroked my finger, and I gasped, imagining its moist heat teasing the hardening points of my breasts.

His expression didn’t change, and his gaze didn’t leave my face as though gauging my responses. The calculating gleam in his golden eyes gave me a moment’s pause.

“If this is a dream, then why don’t you give me what I seek?” he asked. “What harm would there be?”

My hands fell to his shoulders and I kneaded the muscles there, fascinated by his strength. “If I tell you, you won’t call me back to you.”

“Do you think your password is all I desire from you?” His gaze swept over me, scorching me everywhere it paused—my mouth, my breasts, my belly, the juncture of my thighs.

Heat licked at my loins, and my glance fell to his erection. “No, but surrendering to you would give you power.”

“I would not abuse that power any more than I would abuse the gift of your body.” A strong hand lifted my chin. His steady, hypnotic gaze seemed to pull me closer and made me flush with warmth. “Have I caused you pain? Haven’t I fulfilled your fantasies?”

I ignored his questions, knowing my blush colored my face and breasts. He had taught me to find pleasure centers in my body I’d never known existed. “I’ve watched you, while you sleep in your suspension chamber.” The admission was difficult even knowing this wasn’t real—he wasn’t real. Unable to meet his stare while I confessed my intrusive behavior, my gaze dropped to his broad, bronzed shoulders.

“I wondered if your body is as powerful as it appears.” Hesitantly, I smoothed my palms over his warm, lightly furred chest and felt the muscles beneath my hands spasm. “Am I only dreaming your body is this incredibly hard?”

He wasn’t unaffected. His chest rose and fell more quickly now. I was pleased my touch inflamed him as well.

With my hands, I measured the breadth of his shoulders and followed the thickly corded muscles of his arms downward. “You’ve led me, invoking my responses each time we’ve met, but this is my dream. I would know if everything is as hard as it appears.” I noted his hands clenched at his sides, and I smiled up at him. “Will my touch break your control? You’ve teased me, lured me to the edge, and left me wanting. Can you resist me?”

I spread my hands on the defined ridges spanning his taut, narrow waist. Then I glided downward, curving my fingers to rake the silky arrow of hair that broadened to frame his immense manhood.

As I encircled his cock, his head fell back, and his jaw clenched. Feeling powerful, I stepped closer to press my aching breasts to his chest and slide my tongue along the crest of his shoulder. He smelled of exotic incense and warm, musky man. My hands glided up and down on his smooth, hard cock.

Suddenly, with a movement that left me gasping, his hands closed around my waist, and he lifted me high. I was exultant. Now, he would come inside me. Now, I would learn the promises his body had hinted at—if only in my dreams. I clutched his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist, and he lowered me, impaling my moist flesh.

I moaned, and his mouth curved into a grim smile. His hands shifted to my buttocks—but he held me still while my vagina dampened in anticipation of a vigorous coupling.

“Why won’t you move?” My body ached for fulfillment, and I tightened my inner muscles around him.

“Your password.” He clenched his teeth. “Give me what I want, and I will finish this.”

The request jarred. But I was so lost in my flaming need, I ignored the warnings clamoring in my mind. “This is my dream, my mind. I command you to take me.”

His eyes narrowed, and his hands were hard, steel bands anchoring me to his hips. “Do you?” His expression challenged me to prove myself.

I faltered, and a prickle of unease crept up my spine to lift the hairs on the back of my neck. Khalim Padja of the Raptor clan, a Tirrekh warrior and the man embedded in my body, was a murderer and a traitor to the Dominion. But what else might he be? Was he somehow making this dream happen?

He’d been brought aboard my small transport ship, a cargo so precious and dangerous the governor of the outlying fortress had refused to hold him long enough for a military transport to arrive. I’d been promised a fortune to deliver him to the Dominion courts, and I’d assured the governor that Khalim’s suspension chamber would hold him safely.

Before I’d slept in my own chamber for the duration of the month-long journey, I’d inspected his, and checked to be certain the sleep inducements would last. But I’d been unable to resist a thorough inspection of his body as he lay inside.

I was a woman who’d spent too many months alone aboard my ship in deep space, my imagination my only company. And his body was beautiful. What harm would there be to look and stroke my hands over his still flesh?

And I had, much to my shame.

But this dream was too vivid. Even for the elaborate fantasies I often built to while away the days and weeks of my travels. His scent, his warm skin, his hard hands. His cock that stretched me—achingly.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” I asked, afraid of the answer and his knowing smile, and ashamed of my body’s creamy response. My lips trembled, and his gaze fell to my mouth. I closed my eyes.

“No. You’re not dreaming.” His mouth descended on mine, and I was lost to his mastery. His firm lips pressed mine, and his tongue stabbed between my lips, sweeping over the roof of my mouth, gliding along my tongue, inciting me to suck.

I moaned, and my traitorous body released a fresh wash of liquid arousal.

He growled deep in his throat, and his hands squeezed my ass and lifted me, and then pushed me down—moving me, finally, up and down his thick shaft.

Mindless now, I threw back my head and clutched his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I climbed the precipice. “Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, harder.”

His body shuddered between my legs, and his hips joined our dance, working in contradiction to the hands that directed my hips, pulling out as he lifted me, thrusting deeper as he ground my pussy down his length. Deeper, harder, faster—until I shattered. My long, keening cry ripped through the stillness around us.

When I opened my eyes, my head lay upon his shoulder, rising and falling with his ragged breaths. Drowsy, sated, I was less afraid and less believing, because I’d never experienced such depth of passion in my life. I smoothed my cheek on his warm skin. “If this isn’t a dream, then what is it?”

“A possession. You are mine.”

Stepbrother + SEAL Team = One Hot Release! (Contest — Three Winners!)
Saturday, July 23rd, 2016

UPDATE: The three winners are…Galina Sulaiman, Jen B., and Pansy Petal!

* * * * *

I am at my desk today. No babysitting. How did that miracle happen? The 7-year-old didn’t need 3-4 days of recovering in the hospital! The doctor sent her home the next day. He told her he’d had football players who’d undergone the same surgery and they hadn’t been able to stick the pain like she could. They were “weenies” compared to her. So, she’s home, ensconced in her “infirmary” (the living room). Her poor mom is exhausted, and I will spell her, but not until after I get one bit of work completed first! So, the cancer-filled tibia is gone. Completely. We hope that took care of the issue, but she will be checked for recurrences of her cancer pretty much for the rest of her life.

In the meantime, I have a brand new naughty stepbrother story out! I had so much fun writing it. My heroine’s a phone sex operator whose SEAL brother catches her “on the job”. Let’s just say, he’s not pleased… :) Don’t have your copy? It’s only $0.99! And KU subscribers can pick it up for FREE!

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His SEAL Team


When Sara’s stepbrother surprises her with an early return from
a mission, he brings two of his Navy SEAL teammates along…

Get your copy!


Three winners will choose one of my previous Stepbrothers Stepping Out stories! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

If you had all the money in the world, where would you be right now?
And what would you be doing?

You can win one of these stories…

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Partner SOWithTheBoss600 With His Professor

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Friends Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Team SOWithHisDoctor_600


Flashback: Conquests (Contest)
Saturday, July 16th, 2016

CONTEST UPDATE: The winner of the free download of Conquests is… DebraG!

UPDATE: Such a strange week. Some of you had asked for updates. So, quickly, this is what’s happening with the 7-year-old. This week’s tests ruled out cancer anywhere else in her body but her tibia. Yay! Feels so weird to be happy that she only has cancer in one spot. And they’ve set her surgery date for Thursday. She’s undergoing a brand new procedure and will be in a cast until after Christmas. We’ve been going crazy trying to think of all the things that have to be done—get a ramp, wheelchair, move her bed to the living room… The lists go on and on. I’ll keep you posted.



From Delilah’s “How to Train Your Skjaldmaer”

So, time for some fun!

Are you taking any trips this summer? Going to the beach? The lake? Going someplace cold to escape the heat? Comment for a chance to win a free download of Conquests: An Anthology Of Smoldering Viking Romance!



Vikings. Fierce warriors who terrified all in their path as they raided and marauded, enslaved and murdered during Europe’s Dark Ages.

But these rough men from a rugged land were also sailors, explorers, craftsmen, and highly sought after mercenaries.

Conquests: An Anthology of Smoldering Viking Romance will transport you to the realm of fantasy where such fearsome and loyal men are relentless potent lovers. Whether the lady of the keep demands a few stolen hours of pleasure with a captured Viking warrior or the handsome Northman is the one seducing his captive, you will find plenty of lusty adventures in settings as far-flung as Ireland, Iceland, Norway, Byzantium, Moorish Spain and the New World.

Let your fantasies run wild to a time when men wearing bearskin shirts and shining iron helms could capture a fierce maiden’s heart!

Get your copy here! It’s just $0.99 for 13 stories!

Here’s an excerpt from “The Captive” by Lizzie Ashworth…

“Dane, do you know why you were brought here?”

Elspeth, Lady of Hystead, gathered her thick red skirts and sat on the curved stool at the side of the room, opposite the spot where the broad-shouldered man stood. Her hungry gaze drank in the powerful strength of his legs, the ripple of muscle in his chest and arms, the iron line of his jaw. Even wounded, even smeared with the grit and gore of battle, his body glistened with male vigor.

Candlelight reflected off the lime-washed walls and framed the warrior’s furious stare. He strained against the bonds holding his wrists behind him and stretched the short length of rope between his ankles. Animal skins covered the stone-paved floor under his feet, one of few luxuries in the humble room with its bed, bucket of hot coals, and side table.

She turned to the two armed men who’d brought him. “Go now and bar the door until I call.”

An angry string of words followed the men as they departed. Elspeth heard the bar fall into place with a heavy thump.

Pale blue eyes flashed toward her, defiant.

“What of our language do you know, Dane? Can you speak?”

“I know enough,” he snarled, his words heavily accented. “What is your intent, woman?”

“My name is Elspeth, and it pleases me to see you.” His anger excited her, although she tried not to reveal any hint of her swelling desire. She sipped from her cup of ale. “Will you drink?”

His tongue slid over the crease of his narrow lips, but he gave no answer.

“You must be thirsty.” She poured another cup from the ewer and carried it to his mouth, tilting it forward.

He drank deeply. The line of his jaw slackened slightly, and she remained beside him, more intrigued than ever by his bristling strangeness. The grime of battle still coated his face and arms, but elsewhere, his body had been covered with clothing and armor, now mostly removed, so that he stood in rough pants that hung from his hips. Blood smeared from cuts on his arms and hands did not disguise the inked design scrolling over his tanned arms. A section of his yellow-white hair clumped against his scalp in a dried, darkened mass while the rest fell in tangles around his shoulders.

“Are all your kind so beautiful?” she asked quietly, trailing her fingertip across his chest. His nipples lay flat on the domed pectoral muscles and more ink patterned a fantastical beast between them. Hardly a hair curled there, although lower on his abdomen a faint line of darker hair collected downward to disappear at the waist of his pants. Her gaze lingered there briefly as her pulse quickened.

He made no answer, but inhaled as her finger stroked over one of the nipples. His posture shifted slightly.

“Is this beast meant to say something about you?” she asked, fingering the tattoo.

“It honors the gods,” he grumbled.

“Have your gods served you well today?”

He did not answer.

She brought a basin and set it beside him before pouring water warmed near the hot coals. With a linen cloth, she bathed him, wiping the sweat-stained whisker stubble on his face to remove blood and dirt. A strong straight nose traveled from his smooth brow and centered between prominent cheekbones. His firm jaw cut sharply to a bold chin, oddly contrasting the cruelly sensual curve of his narrow lips.

Her breath stuttered as she worked, each freshened part of his body even more stunning than she had first considered. His skin, marred by various scars from previous battles, stretched like warm silk over bronzed muscle. She sponged carefully around a gash on his cheek and another shorter mark on his forehead. Bruising on his jaw had turned purplish-blue, and more bruising colored parts of his chest and back. Nicks and scrapes laced his forearms, and a crusted gash on his bicep caused him to jump when she pushed the wet cloth against it. The scalp wound proved more troublesome. His height forced her to stand on tiptoe to reach it.

“Bend over,” she demanded, pressing his head forward so that the water could soak the matted hair. He made no sound as she cleaned his injuries. At length, she set aside the basin.

“Will you take food?” She cut a piece of the cheese and broke a part of the loaf of wheaten bread.

His gaze had become speculative, watching with an almost bemused expression that softened the strained lines of his face. “Why do you trouble over me, when I am to be killed?”

“Perhaps that isn’t your fate, Dane.”

“Do you have the power to determine my fate?”

“It seems I do, does it not?”

“Things are not always as they seem,” he replied.

But he accepted the stool she pushed behind him and sat to eat the food she fed him, and after a time, with the loaf, cheese, an apple, and considerably more ale consumed, she noted a certain relaxation in his frame.

“You mean to have me,” he observed and raised one eyebrow in question.

“Yes.” She noted the hint of a smile, which pleased her.

“My hands…” He shifted his shoulders to struggle with the bonds holding his wrists.

She laughed lightly, swallowing past the growing tension in her neck. How she would love to release him, let him tear at her, throw her down, and take her to the ends of her reckoning. “Dane, surely you don’t think me foolish enough to release you?”

He smirked. “My name is Magnus, and I don’t think of you at all,” he replied. “I was not aware the Saxons gave over the task of torture to their women.”

Anger swept up her cheeks, and she held her skirts to kick out the stool from under him.

Unsteady, he gained his feet as the stool flew back.

“Torture?” Her face burned. “You see pleasuring me as torture?”

She thought them of equal age. But she was no maid, rather the wife of a doddering old man who couldn’t keep from dribbling on himself when he pissed. On her, alone, lay the full array of tasks necessary to run such a large estate. Even the thanes sworn to her husband’s service knew she ruled Hystead. Many had made suit to her, surreptitiously, for standards required decorum in such matters. In these uncertain times, she could not risk loss of respect for herself or her husband.

Torture. Her nostrils flared as she met his insolent gaze. Her copper-red hair and green eyes received regular comment from the flatterers, and she knew her form remained comely. This man meant to provoke her.

“To what end do you taunt me, Magnus?” she challenged, standing next to him so the swell of her bosom grazed his chest. “Shall I slap you, cause you pain? Would that please you more?”

He laughed, revealing white teeth and creases in his cheeks. “Battle pleases me.”

She ran her hand over his chest, stroking the smooth skin and lingering over the nipples to toy until the flesh thickened. Her own nipples hardened against her bodice as she noted a hitch in his breathing. He may have seemed carved as the finest work of metal, but he was made of mortal flesh. Her hand slid down to the bulge pressing the front of his pants, and a sly smile grew on her mouth.

“Torture becomes you, Magnus,” she said quietly.