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Archive for July, 2014

A Question…
Thursday, July 10th, 2014

I’m hellbent on finishing a book today or  tomorrow, so I don’t have a lot of time to spend online at the moment. I promise, I’ll be checking your comments when I come up for air.

Last night, as a reward for making my word count, I watched the last episodes of The Walking Dead, Season 4. We had them recorded and watched them in blocks. All I can say is wow—fantastic plotting, amazing character arcs, wonderful actors. Look at the flowers, Lizzie.

For me, it’s in my all-time top five series. Now I have the excruciatingly long wait until Season 5 begins. I love this show so much, I find myself dreaming about it (usually involving Norman Reedus’s character, Daryl 😎 ).

Are there shows or movies that linger in your mind and invade your dreams?

Sarah Castille: In Your Corner
Wednesday, July 9th, 2014

Top five things I learned about mixed martial arts while researching In Your Corner, my new sexy fighter romance…

1. Yes, professional and most amateur fighters really do look like “that” i.e. hot, toned and ripped.


The pressure to “make weight” i.e. make the cut off to fight in a lower weight class, means that they cannot afford any excess fat. A 195 lb fighter will dehydrate and starve himself before a weigh-in, often cutting up to 25lbs in a matter of days and then gaining it back before the fight. Hands up everyone who wants to lose 25lbs in two days. Me!

2. Fighters protect the family jewels with shorts that have a built-in carbon flex groin protector.

I was “treated” to a demonstration of the effectiveness of the “carbon flex groin protector” during one of my research trips. As you can imagine, it involved my host, thudding his knee between the legs of his “friend” and saying “see it doesn’t hurt” while his “friend” grimaced and tried not to cry.

More interesting than the groin smash demo, however, were the names given to said equipment. After all, a man can’t put his family jewels in a simple cup. Oh no. Something that precious must be protected with a “Bad Boy Thai Metal Groin Guard” or a HEXPAD Thudd Short with Extended Thigh”. Sounds kinky if you ask me. And I would know. I wrote a kinky book.

3. MMA is about fighting. Not BDSM.

MMA is a sport. It has nothing to do with sex. So put away your copy of Fifty Shades of Grey and don’t be fooled by commentators talking about fighters taking the “dominant” position or forcing opponents into “submission.” The “ground and pound” is a  fight move, it’s not about rough sex. Think sports and you’ll appreciate the skill involved in a good ‘ol “Rear Naked Choke.” And don’t get me started on the “mount.” Just remember…you don’t want to be a bottom in the mount position because you will be in danger of being submitted. Oh Christian

4. The Submission Master wants you.

Since we’re on the subject of submission, you may not know that fighters train with “dummies.” Often life-like (although sadly not anatomically correct) fight training dummies come in all manner of shapes and sizes, but my personal favorite is…THE SUBMISSION MASTER. Dark and mysterious, The Submission Master “holds its arms and legs up where they belong… not flat out on the floor.” If you prefer blonds, his bestie, Grapple Man, has a lifelike appearance and his skin has the feel and resiliency of human flesh. Or, if you’re feeling kinky, you can have them both.

5. What’s your ring name?

For obvious reasons (see paragraph about male ego above), fighters are not allowed to choose their own ring names. They must “earn” their name as selected by their peers. If you are a good fighter and a popular guy, you might luck out and be named Pulverizer, Axe Murderer, or Terminator. But if you piss off the coach, or you’re the kind of guy who is left standing at the side during the high school dance, you can expect a name like Babalu, Putz or Bambi.

What’s your ring name? Check it out on the Fighter Name Generator below.

Thanks to Delilah for hosting me today!



A Publishers Weekly Best Summer Book 2014! “You have to go. I won’t be able to control myself. I’ve wanted you so bad for so long and after I’ve been in the cage…I can’t think straight.” He gives a guttural groan and his fist clenches on my hip.

Primitive. Primal. His need speaks to me. I tighten my grip on his neck and rock up to kiss him. He takes over. His kiss is hard and demanding.

“Mine.” His voice is raw, savage and for a moment I truly believe he may lose control.

He rules in the ring

Two years ago, Jake and Amanda were going hot and heavy. But when Jake wanted more, Amanda walked away. Jake immersed himself in mixed martial arts, living life on the edge. But that didn’t dull the pain of Amanda’s rejection-until a chance encounter throws them together.

A high-powered lawyer, Amanda was a no-strings-attached kind of girl. But two years after her breakup with Jake, she still hasn’t found anyone who gets her heart pumping the way he did. And then he shows up in her boardroom, hot as sin and needing help…

But can he rule her heart?

Jake is darker, sexier, and impossible to resist. As their chemistry builds, Amanda’s not sure if she can stay in control, or if she’s finally willing to let him claim her body and soul.

Amazon US:
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Against the Ropes (Redemption #1): A Publishers Weekly Top Ten Pick for Romance & Erotica and #1 Amazon Erotic Romance Bestseller: Amazon


scCloseupimageDSC_3943-72dpiNew York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Sarah Castille, worked and travelled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies. She writes erotic contemporary romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them.


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“Don’t move.”

Totally immersed in painting the cupboard, I freeze mid–paint stroke at the sound of Jake’s deep voice behind me.

“What? Am I doing something wrong?”

He closes the distance between us and runs his finger along the back waistband of my gym pants, sending delicious tingles up my spine. Then he slides his hands around my waist, bared by the rise of my T-shirt as I stretch to reach the top of the cupboard with my paintbrush.

“Yes. You look too damn sexy. Do you know what it does to a man when he catches a glimpse of something he isn’t meant to see?”

“I hope it makes him tell the woman she can call off the panic attack and drop her arm,” I mutter as I do just that. “I also hope it makes him decide his hands might be of better use somewhere other than around her waist.”

Jake slides his fingers around to my stomach, resting them just over my mound and his voice drops to a low growl. “I could make use of them here.” Read the rest of this entry »

One Week Until BLUE MOON! (Contest)
Tuesday, July 8th, 2014

UPDATE: The winner is Bobbi Kinion!

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once in a blue moon_600

I’m on pins and needles, waiting for this book to release. It’s just the sort of thing I love to write, and I’m hoping you’ll love it too! It releases on July 15th and it’s ready for pre-order now. Here are the links:

Samhain | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Last Tuesday, I shared the opening of the story so you could meet my two lovers, Bryn and Ethan. She’s a witch. He’s a troll. She’s determined never to be possessed by another demon. He’s determined to have a witch in his pocket, because having one increases a demon’s standing and power. Of course, everything ends happily enough. And the sex is out of this world. Luckily, there are four other sister-witches in Bryn’s coven who need their happy endings. And let me tell you, the fellas outnumber the women, so you know where the series will lead. 😉

I’ve included an excerpt. A tease, really. Just to give you a glimpse of the other characters you’ll meet along the way. And yes, there are a lot of names in this passage, but I promise if you read the whole book, you will know several of them already…

Leave a comment and you’ll be entered in a drawing for a free download from among my backlist of Samhain titles.

EXCERPT: Bryn has just discovered Ethan is a troll…

The house was eerily silent when they stepped inside the kitchen. Bryn gave Ethan a questioning glance, but he shook his head. He took her by the hand and pulled her behind him as they made their way to the parlor.

Inside, she halted. The room was crowded with men. Others. She knew because each was perfectly formed as only otherworldly creatures could be. They appeared happy to see Ethan. So they were friends of his. She hoped he’d stay true to his word. Although now, she worried he might be torn to pieces when he told the group they couldn’t take the women.

Her sisters sat, four in a row on the couch, their hands clasped together, eyes wide as saucers. When they saw her, they all began shouting.

“They’re demons.”

“Ethan’s one of them.”

“They’ve come to claim us.”

“Fucking bastards.” That last comment came from Darcy whose green eyes flashed.

Bryn shook her head, telling them silently to be quiet. Then she bowed her head.

Her sisters gasped at her submissive gesture.

Ethan’s arm encircled her waist. He tipped up her face. “We made a bargain, and it didn’t include you bowing to my will.”

Her gaze clung to him. What was he doing?

His glance swept the men gathered in the parlor. There was over a dozen of them—dark and fair, burly and lean, all with shining eyes. Renner’s sea-bright gaze was so intense, she wondered how they’d missed the fact he was Other. All of the men shared the same hard-edged, feral look. Their expressions had grown shuttered, their gazes watchful. Even Renner, who had seemed so easygoing, was frowning.

“There are complications,” Ethan said. “Bryn was already claimed. But we’ve mated. She tells me she may already be pregnant. Her sisters,” he said, nodding to the quiet women, “are mine to protect.”

Renner stepped forward. “You’re keeping them? All of them?” he asked, his voice rising.

Ethan’s frown was fierce. “I won’t be bedding them. But they will remain in this house with us. And they have my protection. I’ve promised Bryn that her friends will be given their choice of mates.”

The expressions of all the men darkened, fierce scowls that made gooseflesh rise on Bryn’s arms.

Ethan squeezed her hand and glanced down at her. “Bryn was previously mated with a hellhound. Merrick, to be precise. And since you all know his reputation, you know that when he finds us, he’ll try his best to kill me. You have no obligation to stand with me. If you leave now, you won’t be implicated.”

Bryn offered him a small smile and then they both turned back to the group.

Renner’s gaze shot to the women. His frown eased as he gave each a thorough glance.

Bryn knew what he saw. Four very frightened but determined women.

He raised his head to meet Ethan’s stern glance. “I’m staying. I’ll help you protect them.”

There were murmurs from the group, but they stepped forward one by one and gave the same pledge.

Renner smiled ruefully. “For a low-life troll, you’ve certainly reached high.”

“As a bottom-dwelling draugr, you aren’t exactly standing on my shoulders.”

In truth, if all the men in the room were friends to a troll and a draugr, they were from the lowest echelons of demon spawn. It was easy to see that ambition to rise higher than their birthright and their kind had bonded them.

Ethan gave a nod. “So be it. Every woman will have three guards. You’ll work in shifts. One at night, two during the day. And we have to continue the bridge project.” His gaze went to Renner. “You make the assignments.”

Miren cleared her throat, drawing all the male gazes to where she sat on the couch. “Since we’re the ones who have to put up with you constantly underfoot, don’t you think we should choose our own bodyguards? I run a shrimping outfit. Who among you doesn’t lose his breakfast on a boat?”

Renner’s grin stretched. “I’m a sea-draugr.”

Two more raised their hands. “We’re mer-folk.”

And so the assignments were made according to common interests and powers.

Finding beds for all of them proved more challenging. The women took Bryn’s remaining empty rooms. Pallets were made up for the men in the upstairs hallway and on the porch, with one man stationed inside each of the witchs’  rooms. Something the women seemed entirely too excited about.

“Sisters,” Bryn hissed after she pulled them into the kitchen for a last-minute chat. “I know we’ve been without male company for a while, but you’ve been offered a gift. Don’t allow them to romance the right of choice out from under you.”

“So says the woman who has twice been claimed,” Darcy said with an arch of her red brow.

“Claimed once by a monster. As you well remember.” She sighed. “Please, take your time. We don’t know these men. For now, Ethan seems to have them roped in, but they’ve all caught your scents. We can’t have them challenging each other for your hands.”

“It’s not like we have to choose only one,” Miren said, but then pressed her lips into a narrow line at Bryn’s frown. “Just sayin’.”

Her sisters giggled.

“True,” said Darcy. “And how does one choose between a dragon and a gargoyle?” Darcy ran a crafters’ cottage, complete with pottery wheel and kiln. Her choices had naturally aligned with stone and fire.

Radha giggled. “The satyr offered to let me sheer his fur to make yarn on my spindle.”

Bryn couldn’t help it, a smile tugged at her mouth. “So long as you realize that the moment you accept a mate and he claims you, that the echo will sound.”

“Merrick and his friends might already know,” Aoife said. “How can we trust that every one of Ethan’s friends will keep his silence?”

“There are plenty of games we can play without risking an echo,” Darcy said with a graceful wave of her hand. “A little play might bind them closer to us.”

A rap sounded on the kitchen door. Ethan pushed through it. “The men are ready to bed down. It might be best for the women to retreat to their rooms.”

The sisters shared charged glances. “If anyone cries out,” Bryn whispered, “we shall all answer.”

They nodded, and then the women trailed out of the kitchen, leaving Bryn alone with Ethan.

Bryn sighed. “This is—”

“Complicated,” he finished. “I know. But you can trust me.”

“And should I trust the others?”

He arched one brow. “You don’t think they all fear a troll?”

She shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve never seen you in your true form.”

“And you won’t. Not unless I have to protect you.” He held out his hand. A hint of his earlier arousal was there in his dark eyes. “I’ll be staying in your room.”

Not a question, but she nodded, agreeing. “Of course.”

“Kahn and Sigurd understand that so long as they watch over you during the day, they are free to woo the others.”

She jutted her chin. “You didn’t offer them the chance to share?”

His grunt was wickedly masculine. “Do you really think you could handle more than me in your bed?”

She remembered the immense pressure. She was sure, once she was accustomed to his girth, that just the act of him entering her would be enough to set her off. “No. I don’t want another lover. And we have a bargain. You’re free to include that stipulation.”

“Then I will. Come to bed.”

As meek as a lamb, she allowed him to lead her through her house and up the wooden staircase. She passed the girls’ rooms, heard laughter, smelled the heady mix of testosterone and estrogen, of arousal so thick her own body began to warm, her breasts and pussy to thicken with her stirring blood.

She stepped around the pallet of blankets and quilts that Kahn had made for himself outside her door. He was jinn, and his talents would have more naturally aligned with Radha’s, but Bryn understood her sister’s reluctance to accept his proximity. He was seduction incarnate when he smiled. His mouth was sensual and mobile, his black eyes filled with mystery. He’d probably scared the dickens out of Radha.

“Sigurd’s on the porch,” Kahn said. “He wants to run in wolfskin tonight.”

She nodded, uncomfortable with the way the men talked openly about their true selves after having suppressed her own for so long except in front of her sisters.

Ethan followed her into her room and began to disrobe.

She stiffened.

He studied her face and stopped when he was wearing only his boxer briefs. “I’ll sleep on top of the covers.”

She shook her head. “We’ve passed that point. But this is an adjustment for me.”

“And I told you before we mated that I’d respect your right to tell me no.”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said, her eyes beginning to well with tears. Her need was strong. And he knew it. A tremble shook her frame and she gasped.

There was understanding in his eyes. Perhaps a little sympathy. A witch’s heightened state of arousal when in the company of a mate wasn’t something she was prepared to fight. Especially not when she knew the pleasure he would give her.

She turned and lifted her hair. And just as he had in the gazebo, he moved closer and pulled down her zipper.

Susan R. Hughes: Weddings on Main Street (Contest)
Monday, July 7th, 2014

UPDATE: Linda Richter won the free download!

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shSueWedding season is upon us. I love weddings. I adore the glamorous gowns, the profusion of flowers, seeing family and friends brought together in celebration, and most of all I love watching a couple pledge their forever love to one another. Some people are cynical about marriage these days, but I believe in it wholeheartedly. Something I love about romance novels is that you’re guaranteed a happily-ever-after ending, and usually that means a wedding. Of course, a perfect wedding doesn’t mean the years that follow will go smoothly. There are bumps in the road for any couple on their journey through life together—but at the end of a well-crafted story, we know the bond between the hero and heroine is strong enough to carry them through the challenges they are bound to face.

As wonderful as weddings are, preparing for the big day can be fraught with stress. Brides put pressure on themselves to create the perfect event, and there may be budget strains or conflict with family over decisions. And consider the bridesmaids, forced to wear whatever puffy-sleeved tangerine or fuchsia monstrosity the bride chooses for her!

All the drama can make an ideal backdrop for a story. My new novella, Kiss the Bridesmaid (available as part of the Weddings on Main Street boxed set), follows the budding romance of Mari and Jake, a bridesmaid and a wedding photographer, during the months leading up to Mari’s brother’s wedding. For Mari, the stress of preparing for the wedding has nothing to do with money, fashion or squabbles with the other attendants. She’s anxious about her hidden disorder that might make it difficult to stand at the front of the church during the ceremony. Meanwhile, Jake is recovering from a disastrous marriage and only wants to focus on the needs of his young daughter—but he can’t resist falling in love with Mari.

Do you have a favourite wedding story? Leave a comment below for a chance to win a copy of Weddings on Main Street, a collection of all-new novellas by eleven authors.


Amazon link:
My website:

Angela Drake: Songwriters Make Good Lovers
Sunday, July 6th, 2014
adNew Somewhere Down the Line_cover

Click Cover to Buy

At least that’s what my heroine, Alana Cozins, discovers in my recent release Somewhere Down the Line. My hero, Trey Morison, is a songwriter. Songwriters are a special breed. And while they can be male or female, there’s something about the male perspective in a country song. As a music promoter, I network with songwriters and artists on a daily basis. Most of those I work with are either traditional country artists (no hick hop found on my playlist) or Texas artists.

In my novella, I talk about a Songwriters Showcase. When my editor asked for clarification, I realized a lot of my readers may need a little extra insight.

I can’t attest to what is in other states but in Texas (and in Nashville) they have Songwriters Showcases (or sometimes Songwriters Circles). Showcases are an intimate gathering of songwriters/ musicians at one of the many music venues throughout the state. Usually, one artist acts as the host for the evening and invites others to join him (or her) for a couple hours to ‘showcase’ their latest tunes. This gives them a chance to get a little feedback from their peers and the audience.

As a reward for signing my contract for Somewhere Down the Line, I spent twelve days traveling through the upper half of Texas – particularly in the West Texas Hill Country. I spent much of my time in Llano, Texas. I have friends there and wanted the chance to catch up and see some of the talent first hand I’d been promoting. One place in particular stands out. The Badu House is a special venue. A wine house and pub as well as a restaurant and B&B, The Badu features music nights two or three times a week. On Thursday nights, my friend W.C. Jameson heads up the Songwriter’s Showcase. For two hours he and his co-host, Mike Blakely and a guest take turns playing a wide variety of tunes – mostly in the Americana genre. On Monday nights W.C. hosts the circle at Poodie’s Hilltop – one of the oldest honky tonks in Texas and just minutes from Willie Nelson’s home. The infamous Luckenbach is another great place to catch a Songwriters Showcase.

These events provide a morsel to entice you to learn more about the songwriter and their music. And while I can’t say anything about their lovemaking abilities (I am a happily married woman), I can tell you they are some of the nicest people you will ever meet. If you appreciate good music and come across one of these gatherings, I urge you to go experience the special magic of a Songwriters Showcase.

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adKellyAngela Drake believes in happy endings and the magic of ‘what if’ and second chances. When not living vicariously through her characters, Angela writes about and promotes Texas and classic country music. She is an active member of two local writer’s organizations. Angela enjoys time with her granddaughters, gardening, journaling, and a myriad of artistic pursuits. She shares a home in the Ozarks with her husband, three dogs and two cats. She loves networking with readers and writers through her Facebook, twitter and blog.

Angela’s Links:
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The day after…
Saturday, July 5th, 2014

Have I ever told you about the craziness that is living in the boonies in Arkansas? I’ll give you an example. Last night on neighboring hilltops, families set off fireworks. Since we were planning a celebration tonight because we have birthday, we sat on the porch to enjoy everyone else’s light shows. Of course, it was mostly noise, like the sound of mortars going off (something that made me a little nostalgic for my years in the Army). But they didn’t just set off fireworks; someone decided rifle blasts would be fun too. Do these fools not know that what goes up must come down? We headed back inside with the kids.

Did you fire off your own pretty explosives or go to watch some wonderful fireworks display? I don’t think I’ve seen anything spectacular since I lived in Atlanta.

I have a couple of administrative things to get out of the way…

Kim  Smith is the winner from Saturday’s contest! She’ll get a free download of any of my Samhain downloadable books. Congrats! I’ll be in touch!

If any of you haven’t already subscribed to my newsletter, now’s the time! I’ll be sending out one shortly and will be selecting a winner of a very pretty bracelet. Scroll down the left-hand column of this page to find “NEWSLETTER” and sign up!

More craziness will ensue today. The 9-year-old turns 10. Her mom and stepdad spent last night putting together the Barbie Dream House I bought her. She decided the way she wanted to celebrate was a trip to KFC for dinner. (What kid forgoes Chucky Cheese or putt-putt for KFC?) So we’ll hit KFC and come back to open gifts, blow out candles, and hopefully get a swim in before we start the fireworks. 🙂 Our neighbors will love us.

Randi Alexander: All Hat No Cattle
Friday, July 4th, 2014

Fireworks, Rodeo, and Cowboy Romance all for only $.99
in Randi Alexander’s Fourth of July Story

Randi Alexander AvatarA year ago today, I was sitting in the stands watching the Black Hills Roundup PRCA Rodeo in western South Dakota. It’s an experience I’ll never forget. Lots of cowboys to look at, that’s for sure, but the talent of the riders, ropers, bull fighters, barrel racers, pickup men, and the whole crew was truly inspiring.

The roughstock was incredible, and it wasn’t until the third day of the rodeo that one bullrider stayed on eight seconds. I guess in cowboy language, those were some rank bulls. Some of the sponsors of the rodeo are adult beverage companies, and it got me thinking about all the work that goes on behind the scenes.

It gave me the perfect occupation for Harper Johansen, the heroine of All Hat No Cattle. She works for an adult beverage manufacturer and travels to rodeos across the country representing her company. She’s seen a lot of cowboys, but hasn’t yet run into the perfect one for her; a cowboy who shares her dream of one day owning a ranch.

When Shaw Donahue sees Miss Harper, he’s hooked. She’s got what he’s looking for in a woman, and he intends to prove that despite his current occupation, he’d be the perfect man for her. And he has lots of clever ways to do the proving!

All Hat No Cattle is one of the Red Hot and BOOM! Stories, and I hope you’ll heat up your Fourth of July with a copy of Harper and Shaw’s story.

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It’s Independence Day, and Harper Johansen is at the rodeo in South Dakota on business. While she’s deep in cowboy territory, she’s hoping to meet a real cowboy—one who shares her dreams for the future. Shaw Donahue, tall and sexy in his cowboy hat, jeans, and boots, could be that man, and Harper quickly falls for his seductive charm. Until he tells her he’s a roughneck.

Shaw can’t believe his luck. Harper is an accomplished, intelligent businesswoman, and she’s beautiful, sexy, and willing. Until she learns he’s working the local oil field. Before he can explain the reason he’s roughnecking, she pushes him away, telling him they can only be friends. He doesn’t fit into her plans. With four days of rodeo ahead of them, can Shaw convince Harper to value a man for more than his cattle?

Here’s a sexy excerpt to get your holiday fun started:

Shaw used Harper’s key card to unlock her hotel room door. He held it open and she walked in first. The air conditioning hit her like a polar blast. Before the door closed, he spun her toward him and kissed her. He was exceptionally skilled at it, too. His hands caressed her arms, over her shoulders, and up and down her back as his tongue played with hers, coaxing hers into his mouth for her own exploration.

Wherever he touched, tingles burst on her skin. She squeezed her thighs together to intensify the sweet ache in her pussy.

He slowed the kiss and stared down at her. “Are you sure, Harper? This is what you want?”

It didn’t even cross her mind to stop now. Batting her eyes at him, she ripped open the front of his shirt, popping all seven snaps. “That’s how sure I am, cowboy.” Referring to him as a cowboy when he technically wasn’t one didn’t bother her a bit. She liked him. She trusted him. She wanted to have breakfast with him tomorrow. And many mornings after that.

Harper ran her fingers through the soft, brown curls that formed a light thatch on his chest and thinned to a trickle as they headed south to his waistband. “God, I love your hair.” She touched the brim of his hat, and when he bent toward her, she pulled it off and set it on a chair. With her fingers, she combed his hair, letting it go wild.

He shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside, then pulled off her shirt, boots, and jeans until she stood there in only her pink bra and panties. “You are beautiful, Harper.” He stroked her hair. “Everything about you. I liked just sittin’ and talking with you today. You’re so smart. Makes me wonder if you—”

She brushed her fingers across his lips. “Let’s save the heavy stuff for breakfast.”

He kissed her fingers and picked her up in his arms. “There’s a lot of hours between now and breakfast, Red.” He tossed her on the bed and she bounced a couple times, sliding along the satin comforter.

“Red, huh? Not very original.”

He bent and pulled off his first boot. “My brain wasn’t fast enough that morning in town to ask your name. I had to call you something.”

She loved that he admitted it. Not a cocky cell in that hot body of his. Her gaze drifted over his solid length as he bent and pulled off his other boot. Working the oil field evidently did wonderful things for a man. Bulging biceps, ripped pecs, defined shoulders, and a six-pack that she needed to taste. Her breathing grew ragged as her brain switched off all conscious thought and turned on her primal desire. She wanted him hard and heavy on top of her, pressing her into the mattress.

His hands went to his belt buckle. Her eyes followed. Slowly he undid the belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and slid the zipper down.

Her mouth watered and her hips started circling, needing to see what came next, knowing it was going to be good.

He dropped his jeans, bent over to take them and his socks off, and came back up wearing only his black boxer-briefs and the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. His long, thick cock pulsed in the stretchy material.

“Cowboy.” She held out her hand to him.

He nodded. “Red.” He strolled to the bed. What had she said about him not being cocky? He was confident and bold as he hit the bed, rolled on top of her, grabbed her wrists in his calloused hands, and settled his hard staff in the vee between her legs.

An explosion of desire raced through her and her hips tipped up, welcoming him as cream trickled from her pussy lips, hot and slick.

His nose nearly touched hers and their breath mingled. The brown of his eyes had turned dark, nearly black, and his jaw set in a stubborn clench. “I want you. I’ve never wanted anything this bad, Harper. I’m into you, more intensely than I know is good for me.” Between his eyes, a wrinkle formed.

His words threw her heart into a gallop. To have a man admit something so personal made her want to…

“I want you too, Shaw.” Shivers coursed down her spine. “I want you pulsing inside me, hot and thick and long. I want to scream your name.”

His hips jerked and his hard erection tweaked her clit. “Harper.” He shut his eyes for a few seconds then locked gazes with her. “I gotta taste you first.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and whispered, “Everywhere.”


Read the first chapter HERE

And get your copy for only $.99 at:


Thanks for hosting me again, Delilah, and have a great Independence Day weekend everyone!

“Rode Hard and Put Up Satisfied”
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