UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kristie!

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Ménage can be kind of irresistible. To write or read. Why settle for one hot lover when you can have two or more? I enjoy the challenge of writing it—figuring out how to describe all those moving parts, trying to make the scene move quickly, and still let the reader know who’s saying/touching what. And I’ll admit it. When I’m writing it, I’m that character, closing my eyes and imagining every kiss.

I’ve written a few. 🙂 The book coming May 12th, Under a Blood Moon, features a foursome (a witch, two mermen and a sea draugr). To tide you over until then, take a peek inside Two Hot!

Comment for a chance to win Two Hot or one of the short stories on this carousel!

Do you like ménage stories? If so, what flavor of ménage do you prefer
— m/m/f, m/f/m, f/m/f, f/f/m? More mm’s?

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Click to Buy

Afraid to spoil their friendship, Emily had been reluctant to act on her attraction to the two sexy men next door. However, when she’s caught spying on them, the men decide a little punishment is in order…

Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason’s ice-cold beer.

Detail I shouldn’t have been able to note, given the fact I was thirty feet away.

As I lowered my nephew’s toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert’s backyard. A fact that probably never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo. Privacy fencing, which ran down to the pier that jutted into the lake, separated the row of houses where we lived. It was high enough the neighbors on either side of ours couldn’t see into their yard, but lucky me—I had the perfect view.

Upon discovering this, I had began a furtive surveillance. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.

We’d shared meals, drinks, late afternoon swims, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow the lawn or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me, along with the fear that I’d mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.

My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and from the very beginning, I was hooked. They’d become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister, rather than a woman one of them might desire.

And therein lay another problem. I’d resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I’d have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason’s muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert’s tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.

Lucky, lucky me. I licked the sweat gathering on my upper lip while this night one of the handsome men living next door tilted his bottle and took several long sips. The look of pure bliss that softened his otherwise stern features made my chest ache.

I watched the movement of Jason’s throat as he worked it down, imagining him sipping at my overheated flesh. My skin began to tingle. My nipples beaded, crowding uncomfortably against my lace bra. My thighs clenched as a delicious wash of arousal seeped to wet the crotch of my plain panties.

The sigh he emitted as he set the bottle on the table was echoed by my own painful groan. Watching either of them had never caused my heart to skip a beat like that hint of a moan sliding on the tail of Jason’s long exhalation.

Sure, it was hotter than hell out there. I too felt the effects of the enervating heat. Record temperatures had strained the region’s resources and planned service interruptions began that night. But something about that sigh felt…un-subtle, exaggerated, maybe even dramatic. And Jason was too straightforward a man for that.

I blotted sweat from my forehead, asking myself again, What am I doing?

Only this time, my peeping hadn’t been deliberate. I’d rushed home from work and showered quickly to beat the scheduled brown-out. Then I’d stripped to my underwear, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, hoping for a breeze to cool my skin. Sitting limply on the sill, I waited for the world to flicker into life again.

That’s when I’d noticed him, sitting in a lounge chair alone in the dark.

He wore his usual work “uniform”—khaki trousers, white shirt and a tie. Tonight, the tie hung loosened and askew, his collar opened beneath it.

Despite the lack of electricity, I could see it all. Moonlight silvered his dark hair and reflected bright as a beacon against the white shirt. The golden light from the large Citronella candle leant warmth to his skin and the amber bottle he held between his hands.

As always, he was lovely to watch, but tonight, his expression drew my attention more than his breath-stealing features. A sullen slanting of his brows, a bit of pout plumping his masculine lips, an edgy energy to his slight movements—he was either irritated or aroused.

Wanting an answer to the “either-or,” I watched. My forte is observation; my people-radar exquisitely tuned to body language and a voice’s tonal cues. My curiosity and my lust were caught. No way could I back away from my window now.

The bottle tapped the table as he set it aside. A long-fingered hand tugged the knot of his tie, dragging it from his neck.

When he began to undo the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, I settled deeper on the sill, leaning closer, but taking care to keep my pale body hidden behind the sheer curtain.

The edges of the shirt parted over a broad, nicely muscled chest. My gaze zeroed in on taut lean abs dusted with dense fur the same color as his close-cropped black hair that stretched nipple to nipple then ran along a thin dark line to slip beneath his zipper.

His hand stroked his chest, scratching through the hair, the faint crinkling sound causing my own chest to tighten, my nipples to surge.

A light sheen of sweat glimmered on his chest and belly. Again, my tongue swept my lips, tasting salt, and I imagined I lapped the dew right off his skin.

When a lazily roaming hand slid over his belly, I tensed, fascinated as he swept the flat plane. Would he be hard or desk-soft? His stomach looked firm. So, I enjoyed fantasizing that he was and touched my own stomach, following his path.

His hand slid down to the knot bulging behind his fly, and he cupped it. Squeezed.

My own hands itched to replace his and grew still, clenching against the fantasy of holding his burgeoning cock as it roused. My cheeks heated and my breaths shortened. No need to tease my own body into arousal, moisture already soaked my panties.

The buckle clanked open, and the belt slid sinuously from the loops as he lifted his hips and pulled it free. A flick of his thumb and the button at the waistband of his trousers opened. His zipper rasped as it slid down.

Dark fabric formed a vee-like shadow as his hand rooted beneath his waist, and then he slipped the long, gleaming column of his semi-aroused sex from the flap at the front of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around it.

I swallowed the liquid pooling in my mouth. I blinked to moisten eyes that had grown dry and scratchy as I stared, wide-eyed. My breaths grew ragged, a little choked, and I must have made a noise, because suddenly his head swung my way.

His gaze narrowed on my bedroom window.

Holding my breath, I froze, hoping his gaze couldn’t penetrate the darkness.

But a crooked smile slowly stretched his lips, and his hand tightened around himself and began to pump up and down the thickening rod. All the while, he stared at me.

Jason knew I watched but didn’t seem to mind. I let out a deep, trembling breath and continued to stare, my own body heating, growing increasingly aroused in tandem with his hardening cock.

His head turned away, and his hand dropped from his engorged cock. It fell against his belly with a soft, muffled thud. Heavy, hot, thick—I knew its girth would stretch my mouth.

Another sound intruded. The chime of my doorbell. I bit back a curse and drew away from the window, slung on my robe, then headed downstairs to the front door.

Robert stood on the stoop, a lazy grin on his face, a sweep of lank blonde hair covering one eye and two beers dangling from his fingers. He was shirtless. Low-riding, blue knee-length shorts encased slender hips and revealed long legs. His large feet were bare. “Thought you might like to join us.”

For the first time in forever, I’m going to Little Rock for a Diamond State Romance Authors meeting! I swear it’s probably been a year and a half since I attended. Hope I recognize some folks… My sister Elle James is speaking, so I’m going for moral support and because she’s making me go. 🙂

Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Triple Horn Brand series! Here’s the question…

Churches have crosses and steeples, governments buildings have flag poles…
What might you like to put on your roof to set it apart from everyone else’s?

What would I put on my roof… A giant book? The head of a hellhound? How about a weather vane with a witch riding a broom? Have fun with your answer!

And in case you didn’t know, I do have a sexy, new story out there right now…

Two construction workers come to the aid of one woman looking for a last taste of freedom…

Note: This 6000-word short story was previously published in Penthouse Magazine and Suite Encounters: Hotel Sex Stories, and has been revised and expanded. It may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!

Here’s a short excerpt from Tailgating at the Cedar Inn!

When the blare of a TV sounded from outside, I had third and fourth thoughts about my decision to stop here for the night. What the hell? Why had someone moved their television set outside rather than watch in the seclusion of their room where the sound would be somewhat muffled?

I gritted my teeth, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and reached for shorts and a tee, slipping them over my nude body and the keys into my pocket before I stomped to the door and flung it open.

Not that the two men sitting on the truck noticed me—at first.

Under the single flood light that illuminated the parking lot, I noted the construction company logo on the side of the pickup backed up to the door of the room beside mine. Then I eyed the large men seated on the sides of the truck bed, their shirts gone, faded jeans stretched over thick thighs. Their attention was glued to the basketball game, blaring from the small screen of the TV they had set in the bed of the truck on top of a white ice chest. They held Budweisers in their grips.

At last, one of the men’s heads turned. He spotted me then whistled at his friend. Soon both their gazes peered down.

I felt foolish standing in my bare feet with my wet hair spiked around my head. Why hadn’t I simply put a pillow over my head to muffle their noise? But I was testy. Moody. I’d lost my job, had a blow-up with my boyfriend over the fact I wouldn’t be splitting rent with him for a while, and cut my nose off to spite my own face by breaking up with him. Homeless now, I had no options. Grandma’s in Little Rock was my last resort.

Tonight would be my last night of freedom before I moved under her roof and abided by her rules. She’d pay the bills—if I knuckled under and went back to school. Something I resented after being on my own for a couple of years, living by my rules.

Which might have been exactly why I remained rooted to that spot. The men seated on the truck would never meet Grandma’s high standards.

Sweat gleamed on their naked chests and both of them were thickly muscled and a little dirty—as though they’d come straight from work without the benefit of a shower.

The shine only served to emphasize the depth of the musculature and their starkly masculine features. Their tanned skin stretched across cheeks and jaws that were sharpened to rough edges by hard work.

Both their gazes homed on me, and while I knew the smart thing would have been to retreat without a word to my room and relock the door, I tilted my chin and thrust out my chest. “Can’t you watch the game in your room?”

“We botherin’ you, sweetheart?” the one closest to me said, sliding off the truck to land in front of me.

I peered a long way up and frowned into the face tilted my way. We stood close enough I could see the bristles of his evening shadow. He wore a ball cap that shadowed his eyes, but glints of blond hair shone beneath it. “It’s late. I was trying to sleep.”

“It’s not that late,” he drawled. “Join us for a beer?”

I glanced behind him and noted the grin on his buddy’s face. He was bare-headed with shaggy brown hair and a devilish quirk to his firm lips. The game seemed to have lost its fascination. Their gazes drank me down like I was long cool drink.

I barely resisted the urge to jut my hip and twirl my hair.

“Bobby, the night clerk, can vouch for us if you’re wonderin’ whether we’re safe,” the one beside me said, amusement lingering in his husky voice.

I shouldn’t have been tempted. However, my body still hummed pleasurably from the heat I’d drawn with my own lazy fingers. Even sweaty, the two men were tempting. Both young, in good shape. Both interested if their sharpening gazes were any indication.

And what the hell? It wasn’t as if I had anyone to answer to. Not at this moment. There was no boyfriend to betray.

My mouth went dry and I swallowed. “Is the beer cold?”

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If you’d like to check out more of my recent short story releases…

UPDATE: The winner of the free story is…Donamuree Holmes!

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I’m writing like my hair’s on fire today—head down, fingers a-flyin’! Hope you have a more restful Saturday!  🙂

Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Triple Horn Brand series! Here’s the question…

If you could acquire any fictional item for realz, what would you want and why?

Not so easy right? Do you choose Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility so you can stalk your favorite movie star without being detected? (I have no clue why that popped into my mind first—cough, Chris Hemsworth naked in the bath!) Or how about Sherlock Holmes’ pipe? (I want whatever he was smoking!) And there you go. Have fun!

And just a reminder, I do have a sexy, new story out there right now…

Here’s a short excerpt from The Runaway Bride!

Jackson Lowry cussed softly when he spotted the blue lights spinning at the roadblock just ahead. Too late to turn back now. He’d only draw more attention.

Squaring his jaw, he rolled down his window and forced a polite smile as he peered into the darkness at the sheriff’s deputy checking IDs with a flashlight.

As soon as the deputy waved the car in front of him to move along and turned to watch the black pickup roll forward, Jackson’s tension eased a fraction.

Maynard Colby’s expression turned from crisply professional to worried in a second, as soon as he recognized Jackson. “Dammit, Jackson, where have you been?”

“Around. Why?”

A soft moan sounded beside him, and Jackson reached surreptitiously beside him to tap the tarp covering his precious load.

“You didn’t hear?” At Jackson’s vague expression, Maynard stepped onto the truck rail and leaned toward Jackson. “It’s Sammi Jo. Her car was found in Shooter’s parking lot, the door wide open. No one’s seen her. Looks like she’s been snatched.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “How serious is this gettin’?”

“It’s only been a couple of hours, but Sammi Jo’s daddy is buckin’ to get the sheriff to call in the FBI, the CIA, the ATF—and whatever other agency his money can buy to find her. I tried callin’ you, but your phone kept goin’ to voicemail. After the way things went down at the weddin’ last Sunday, I don’t blame you a bit for layin’ low, but I thought you’d wanna know.”

Another sound, this time a snort, sounded beside him.

Maynard’s gaze cut to the dirty tarp folded over a moving bundle on the floor of the cab. A ruddy eyebrow shot up. “What’s goin’ on, Jackson?”

Jackson rolled his eyes then pulled up the corner of the tarp to reveal a bound and gagged Sammi Jo whose eyes glittered furiously back at both men.

Maynard barked a laugh then tightened his lips. “This time you’ve gone and done it, boy. This is seriously fucked up.” He laughed again, then tipped his hat to Sammi Jo. “No disrespect meant, missy.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “Don’t s’pose you can forget about this?”

Maynard’s gaze shot to Sammi Jo again, raked her once as though ensuring she didn’t look to be in any real danger, then tipped back his cowboy hat. “Tell ya what. I’ll put a bug in the sheriff’s ear, but she better come walkin’ through the po-lice house doors come Monday mornin’.”

“Not a word to her daddy?”

One corner of Maynard’s mouth crooked up. “Man’s already caused enough problems. Deserves to cool his heels a couple o’ days. Don’t do nothin’ I’ll have to arrest you for.”

With a nod, Jackson rolled up the window and pulled past the barricade. In his side mirror, he watched as Maynard crossed to the other deputy’s car and both men bent over laughing.

“See that, Sammi Jo?” he murmured, not expecting an answer because he’d made double-damn sure he’d tied some serious knots and gagged her pretty mouth. “I’m not the only one who thinks you need a good paddlin’.”

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If you’d like to check out more of my recent short story releases…

UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Galina Sulaiman!

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My day will be full of diapers and Spongebob today! I’ll have my feet propped up on the ottoman and my laptop on my knees. But it will be flung aside a dozen times as I chase down the 19-month-old—she tends to put things in her mouth that don’t belong there. Her favorite “food” right now is her Honest Company diapers. At least she’s no longer eating her crib—we traded the wood one for an industrial metal crib.  😯

Anyways, my day will be exhausting. So I thought about what to do for a blog today, and I’ve got nada. It’s 6:10 AM, and there is no inspiration. Yes, I have new releases to talk about, and if you want to know about them, just click on the covers below, but for right now, I’ll ask a simple question and offer you a bribe to answer it. 🙂

Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Delta Heat series! Here’s the question…

Which month of the year has the best aromas?

LOL. Easy right? If you love the scents of honeysuckle and pina colada tanning lotion, you might love July. Love the smell of roasting turkey…? You get the drift.

And just a reminder, I do have two sexy, fun-as-hell stories out there right now…

Here’s a short excerpt from Johnny Blaze!

Johnny Blaze stood, framed by the curtain, his fireman’s hat tipped low in front, the stage lights gleaming on the shiny top and shadowing his features. His tanned chest and ripped abs were bare except for red suspenders–thankfully, attached to yellow turnout pants. His large feet were encased by black boots. He raised a finger and curled it–twice.

I shook my head, glancing behind me to find the stairs, but gentle pressure on my shoulders forced me to my knees.

“Gotta crawl, Bridget,” biker dude drawled. “All the way on your knees.”

He knew my name? Kneeling, I cut him a quick glance. “I’m in a skirt.”

His smile gleamed white against his darkly tanned face. “I know. Sweet how that worked out.” Read the rest of this entry »

Reminder: Yesterday’s contest is still ongoing. A winner will be chosen tomorrow!

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I get that you think the title of Monday’s upcoming release is unpronounceable. I do. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t make up my mind between Smitten and Bitten, even though, in my story, Emmy Harris is both. I didn’t want to choose. I wanted both. Et voilà! Sm{B}itten! Next, you ask, why didn’t I use parentheses around the B? Simple, the squiggly enclosure is prettier! And there you were thinking there might be something deep or magical about why I entitled my book something so strange (you didn’t? I’m disappointed!). One thing’s for certain, you won’t forget it, right? Well, if you want to say my title out loud, you’re welcome to call it what I do: Smuh-bitten. 

At any rate, the book comes out on Monday. Not long now, and I’d like to give you a peek inside. Have you pre-ordered your copy?

True love bites!

Emmy Harris knows she’s not perfect. She has a little extra padding and isn’t the brightest bulb, but you’d think she was a sexy rock star the way everyone at a certain night club treats her from the moment she walks through the door. In fact, the two sexiest men there can’t seem to keep their hands off her, until one of them sweeps her away to his private domain. A girl like her isn’t going to waste a chance like that! So he’s a little rough and likes to take a nibble or two while he pleasures her. For a girl who didn’t know she’d never experienced a full-blown orgasm before, Dylan’s eccentricities are delicious!

Dylan O’Hara only wants a night of passion to slake his lusts, but finds Emmy is a full-bodied, red-blooded siren whose innocence and humor draw this Master vampire like a moth to a red-hot flame. When Emmy attracts the attention of a serial-killing vampire, Dylan vows to protect her, but he fears he’ll lose Emmy once she discovers he’s not quite human…

Buy at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | More venues are coming Monday!

Excerpt:

Be warned. Emmy Harris doesn’t think like most romance heroines. You’ll get a glimpse of her funny little mind here…

At his urging, Emmy couldn’t hold back another second. She dug her fingers harder into his hair and pulled. “Come with me,” she said, her voice tight. And then she whimpered. The experience was too much. He was too much—Mr. Stamina. Too hard and lean and beautiful. His lovemaking was astounding and—something she never thought she’d admit—too strenuous. She panted like she’d run laps, something she’d never ever do.

He shook his head and continued the deep thrusts that pounded against the gate of her womb. Buried to the hilt, he ground his pubic hair against her clitoris until she was so sensitive to the scrape, she thought she might come out of her skin. And she was right effing there, could feel the tension wind tighter in her core.

But she wanted him with her. This one last time, she needed the whole enchilada. “Baby…bite me.”

He stopped. His arms grew rigid and his nostrils flared. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice holding a note of desperation.

“I want you, Dylan. All of you.”

“Dammit! Emmy, do you even know what you’re asking?”

“For you to trust me to be strong?” She lifted her hands to his cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t seen your other face?”

His entire body shuddered, and he closed his eyes. “Then watch,” he whispered.

Breathless with curiosity and a tinge of fear, she held still beneath him. His eyes opened—not the dark orbs she knew were green—but glowing circles that reflected the waning moonlight, like an animal’s. The better to see me.

His cheekbones lifted, popping and cracking as his face reassembled into the monster mask, his skin stretched tight around it. His lips curved above teeth that slid over his human set, long and razor sharp, the longest at the four corners of his smile. The better to eat me.

The most miraculous part of the transformation was the muscle that grew rigid and strained beneath his skin, stretching him outward, turning the arms that held her knees to stone. And his cock was one of those things hardening and enlarging, pushing deeper without a flex of his hips. The better to fuck me.

A low growl rattled in his throat, and for a moment, Emmy had doubts she was really ready for this. Something was wild and primal about that growl. But then his tongue, longer, rougher, swiped along her throat. Her skin grew numb. She relaxed. He’d considered her comfort—part of the man was still inside the monster. Angling her head to the side, she held her breath.

His teeth sank slowly into her neck, burning at first, then he drew, sucking her blood, and pure sensual heat spread from her neck, moving downward and tightening her breasts and belly.

His enlarged cock pushed inside her, pulled out, and pushed again. His thrusts were so powerful her buttocks left the bed with each stroke. Still, he kept a steady rhythm that soon had her wishing he’d move faster, harder, rougher. And she told him so.

He growled in response—the Big Bad Wolf buried between her legs, and she reveled in the power to make him lose control and be the beast for her.

That she could inspire the beast in any man was a revelation.

UPDATE: The winner of this contest is…Ilona!

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Thanks for your help earlier this week with deciding which cover we should use for the Viking book. The authors had too many opinions, and I thought, why not ask readers? You tend to make more instinctual choices than we do, because we way overthink. 🙂

So it’s Friday….! Yup. New shorty. This one was in Penthouse magazine! If you look at the Penthouse cover below, it’s the “Raunchy Road Trip.” Such a proud moment. 🙂 And the story has some naughty, light S&M. Remember, it’s free to KU readers and just $0.99 for everyone else. I hope you’ll pick it up. Click on the cover to check it out on Amazon!

The Long Ride Home

Conquests is a collection of short stories from some very talented and celebrated ladies. If you loved my collections such as Cowboy Heat, Smokin’ Hot Firemen, and Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors, you are going to love this book! Choosing the stories wasn’t a democracy—it was just me. But choosing a cover…? Let’s just say that getting agreement from 13 authors for a cover for our book is a lot like herding cats. We’ve been all over the place, but I think now we’re very, very close.

We’d love your help. Please cast a vote! (And comments would be appreciated!)

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