May

1. I completed 4 editing projects for other authors in May!
2. I found new artwork for a previously published anthology of erotic short stories, Ultra Strokes, Vol. 1. I recovered it and reuploaded it.
3. I compiled my second volume of erotic short stories, Ultra Strokes, Vol. 2, and published it! It’s my first release of the year! Progress, finally!

Health-related:

1. I finally went to the optometrist since I’m far enough away from chemotherapy that I don’t think my eyesight is going to further degrade any time soon. I have new glasses, and the screen is no longer blurry!
2. I fought a second UTI and have completed another round of antibiotics. I feel great!

Happiness-related: 

1. I continued my participation in #the100dayproject. Here are a few small pieces I completed:

June

For work-related, I plan:

1. To finish writing Ignition! No excuses! This will complete the Delta Fire series, my erotic firefighter stories. The pre-order will be set up this week, and the book will be out by the end of the month!
2. To begin work on Built Like Mack, the next story in my We are Dead Horse series.
3. To await the arrival of two editing projects around mid-month. Not having any at the moment is fine with me. Again, I have nothing to get in the way of my writing mojo, other than me.

For health-related, I plan:

1. To continue to focus on recovery! Rest when I need to, and some light exercise—housework and swimming.
2. To endure another immunotherapy session this month (I tolerate it so much better than chemo!) and a wellness checkup with my general practitioner.

For happiness-related, I plan: 

1. To spend time with the family during this summer break. We have plans for fun meals, movies, flea market shopping, and lots and lots of swimming.
2. To complete #the100dayproject and create more art.

Contest

Comment on anything you’ve read in this post. Tell me what you’re doing to make yourself happier and healthier, or tell me what you plan to read in June…

Like I said, comment on anything for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

I’m getting back into the writing/publishing groove. It’s been a while, I know. Ignition, the last of the Delta Heat stories, is in the near future (I’m shooting for release in late June!). Then I’ll be working on the next We are Dead Horse stories, Built Like Mack. I’m hoping I can have it ready for late July, but it might be August. It just depends on…well, how I feel, how the story comes together, and how long it takes for me to reawaken my muse. 🙂

In the meantime, I’ve published a compilation of some of my sexier short stories in Ultra Strokes, Vol. 2. For the short term, it’s FREE in Kindle Unlimited. So, if you’re wanting a copy, do it now! Ultra Strokes, Vol. 1, is also in KU, for now, if you haven’t read that anthology yet. Links for both are below. In August, both will go wide to all the usual publishers. Even at $4.99, that’s a nearly $7 savings, if you were to purchase all individually. Both volumes will be available in print in June!

So, if you were looking for something sexy to read, something with a variety of genres, this should do the trick! Happy reading! Wish me luck as I get back on the writing merry-go-round!

Ultra Strokes, Vol. 2

From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Delilah Devlin, comes another sinfully hot collection for your reading pleasure…

From the author… This compilation includes twelve stories in a variety of settings and genres. Something for all tastes—so long as you like your romance sexy. Most are contemporary stories, but there are historical, paranormal, and a for-grown-ups-only fairy tale included in the mix. The collection is intended for bedtime reading. Read the stories while you’re alone or with your partner. Read them to your partner. I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

This compilation includes:
The Bounty
Runaway Bride
Invite Me In
Drive Me Crazy
In the Wild
How to Train Your Skaldmaer
Hunk of Burning Love
Ripples
Dreaming By the Sea
Quincy Down Under
One Track Cowboy
The Obedient Wife

Get your copy!
FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

Ultra Strokes, Vol. 1

Get your copy here!
Also, FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

It’s the Victoria Day Weekend in Canada. It’s a statutory Federal holiday and the unofficial kickoff to the summer season. The holiday has been observed in Canada since at least 1845, originally falling on Victoria’s actual birthday (24 May 1819). Now it’s celebrated on the last Monday preceding May 25.

We call it the May Two-Four weekend to refer both to Queen Victoria’s birthday, but a two-four is also how we refer to a twenty-four pack of beer, always a popular drink on the holiday weekend.

So how do we celebrate:

1. A lot of folks go camping or head to their cabins. I’ve seen snow on the holiday weekend, and I’ve also gone swimming. The weather is unpredictable around here.

2. Drinking. A lot of people will kick back and enjoy a few cold alcoholic beverages.

3. Grilling. Steaks or burgers or hotdogs…something, but food is essential.

4. Campfire. It’s always a nice weekend to have a campfire on the beach. I haven’t done this in years but did a lot of it during my teenage years.

5. Relax. It is a holiday after all, a three-day weekend to relax with family and friends, maybe curl up and read a good book.

Whether you’re enjoying the holiday or it’s simply another Monday for you, I hope you enjoy it.

And if you’re looking for something to read, why not check out SAMAEL, the first book in the Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption trilogy.

Samael
Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption, Book 1

Love her. Protect her. Reap her soul.

Samael Blackwell is the son of Death—and he’s officially out of chances. After centuries of reaping souls with zero regard for the rules, his father sends him to the dead-end town of Redemption. With only a few hundred bucks and the clothes on his back, Sam has one last shot to prove he can do the job right: reap with compassion or lose everything.

It should’ve been easy. Find the soul. Finish the job. Walk away.

Then he meets Adrianne Sharp.

She’s strong, guarded, and hiding from a past that refuses to stay buried. The connection between them is instant—and impossible. Because Adrianne isn’t just anyone. She’s his assignment.

And her soul’s on the clock.

To win back his old life, all Sam has to do is watch her die. But what if the cost of redemption…is her?

He was sent to end her story. But she just might rewrite his.

Want to read more? You can find SAMAEL here:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2SDQMVF/
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/samael-n-j-walters/1147212495
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/samael-13
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/samael/id6743937757

About the Author

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

Visit her at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
Newsletter Sign Up: http://eepurl.com/gdblg5
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
Twitter: https://x.com/njwaltersauthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

UPDATE: The winners are…Karen LeBeau and Elaine Swinney!
*~*~*

Before there were bounty hunters, there were SEALs. And I loved writing my Uncharted SEALs series. All those rugged, alpha heroes and strong heroines. Humor. Action. Spicy sex. All the ingredients that make stories fun for me to write, and hopefully, fun for you to read.

With Uncharted SEALs, I experimented a bit. For the first time, I did sequels with the same characters—for the simple reason I couldn’t say goodbye to them. I wanted to see inside their Happy-Ever-Afters. Through Her Eyes and Between a SEAL and a Hard Place share the same main characters, as do Dream of Me and Heart of a SEAL.

Big Sky SEAL gave birth to my Montana Bounty Hunters, introducing Jamie and Reaper, who, as a result of their work in Big Sky, earned their own satellite office of MBH. A fun theme I used in two of the stories was a cruise ship. Both Before We Kiss and Hard SEAL to Love are set on the same ship and have the same supporting characters. Plus, Hard SEAL to Love features a disabled female vet!

This time, I’d like you to read the very fun introduction of Big Sky SEAL.

Enjoy!

   

   

   

Click on the covers to learn more!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Uncharted SEALs stories! There will be 2 winners! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

Do you still like alpha hero stories, featuring ex-military men? What’s one you’ve read recently you really enjoyed?

Big Sky SEAL

Romance sparks between a bounty hunter and a SEAL on the hunt for an escaped terrorist…

A former military police dog handler, Jamie Burke, along with her former bomb dog Tessa, are still trying to adjust to civilian life. With a jaded, testy personality, Jamie has few friends. Now, a bounty hunter, she’s tasked to help federal and local law enforcement search for an escaped terrorist in the Crazy Mountains of Montana.

Former SEAL, Sky Reynolds can’t believe Jamie Burke is part of the task force. The last time he saw her was in Afghanistan. Back then, he thought he’d never stand a chance with the pretty, ballsy blonde, sure she had someone waiting for her back home. But here she is, still single, still prickly as hell. Assigned to stick close to her and her dog Tessa during the hunt, he’ll use the situation to get close. This time, he’s not letting her slip away.

When Jamie’s captured by the terrorist, it’s up to Sky, his fellow SEALs, and her motley crew of bounty hunters to save her…

Excerpt from Big Sky SEAL…

According to the satellite image, Mosby’s cousin’s crude hunting shack stood in an isolated clearing deep in a woodsy area at the foothills of the Salish Mountains. Jamie Burke and her partner for this takedown, Reaper Stenberg, parked their SUV a quarter mile down the gravel road leading to the Montana cabin.

Lock and load time. Jamie drew deep slow breaths to slow her heart, while getting her head “in the zone”. They were going after a badass. A mistake could turn deadly.

Reaper opened the back hatch of the SUV and reached into their bag of weapons and gear.

First, they donned Kevlar jackets. Jamie clipped her badge onto her web belt and slid her Glock into the holster strapped to her leg. Then Reaper held out a shotgun with an orange stock.

She glared. “Seriously? You expect me to take down Mosby with a bean bag round?”

“I don’t expect you to take down a damn thing, other than notes.” He smirked. “I’ll handle Mosby. If he gets past me, you nail him in the gut with this.” His glacier-blue eyes narrowed. “Your Glock is your last resort. You’ll be coming through the back of the cabin. Think I’d trust you with real bullets when I’ll be in the line of fire?”

“I’m a better shot than you,” she muttered, thinking of her last weapons qualification test and the ten tightly grouped shots in the circle around the heart on her target.

“On the range. This is the real world, sweet cheeks.”

She crimped her mouth and loaded a bean bag round into the chamber of her weapon, then stuffed two more shells into the pockets of her jeans. The rounds, intended to disable rather than kill, were filled with fabric “pillows” containing birdshot. Although his caution made sense, she couldn’t let him know she was relieved to carry non-lethal rounds—she’d seen enough death and never wanted to kill again. The fact he didn’t trust her aim—or, perhaps, her nerves—rankled. Still, they’d be inside close quarters, and the “non-lethal” round was far more dangerous than when used, as recommended, to hit targets twenty to sixty feet away.

Didn’t matter to Reaper that she was ex-military and knew her way around firearms. Since being discharged, she’d caught a desk at Montana Bounty Hunters, learning the ropes of the paperwork end of the job, and training with the agency’s owner, “Fetch” Winter, until he’d felt comfortable letting her ride shotgun with his most experienced hunter.

From the moment Fetch told Reaper she was his responsibility, he’d been on her ass. No doubt Reaper hoped she’d quit inside a week, but she was entering her second week and rather enjoying the fact her stubborn acceptance of his constant snarky disses annoyed the crap out of him. She’d weathered similar, un-PC comments during her time in the military. They rolled off her back like rain off a duck’s ass.

Lastly, he handed her an earpiece and inserted his own. “Testing,” he whispered. When she took her time responding, he raised an eyebrow. “You got it turned on?”

She raised her hand and shot him the bird. “I heard you loud and clear.”

He hefted a battering ram with one huge hand and rested it on his shoulder then passed over a lock pick kit. “Don’t keep me waiting. As soon as you’re in place, I’ll knock down the door.”

“Shouldn’t we make sure he’s inside first?”

He scowled. “Think I’m a rookie, rookie? Peek in a window on your way. And don’t get your head shot off.”

“Geez, I’d almost think you cared,” she said, giving him a sly grin and a wink.

His expression remained stony.

The time was mid-afternoon, still plenty of light, but she knew he was too impatient to get this catch-and-release finished. They’d already logged ten days on the road, interviewing Mosby’s high school buddies, family members, and former cellmates. A girlfriend who was pissed Mosby was willing to let her car be taken, part of the collateral of his bail bond, mentioned the hunting cabin. After a quick trip to a local Bureau of Land Management office that morning, they had what they hoped was their first break in this case.

They jogged down the quarter mile track to the edge of the clearing. She stayed close to his heels while his long blond ponytail flapped down his back. Not for the first time, she noted his broad shoulders and powerful build. If only he wasn’t such a dick to work with… When they halted, she noted the rusty white pickup parked next to the porch. Someone was home.

Reaper gave her a curt nod then broke left following the tree line, while she kept to the brush to the right, until she was midway down the long side of the shotgun shack. With her heart rate kicking higher, she edged carefully toward a window and shot upward to glance inside.

A man sat in the shadows of a living room in a ratty easy chair, watching TV.

She edged upward again, quickly studied his profile, then crouched to pull the bench warrant from her back pocket to check out their target’s picture. Same bald head and heavy brows, same black tribal tattoo climbing up his shoulder from under his grubby white wife beater to wrap around his neck. “It’s him,” she whispered. “In the living room. Front door’s ten feet from his chair.”

“Is he armed?”

“Didn’t see a weapon. I’m heading to the back door.” She kept close to the side of the house, came around the back, and then halted when she noted the modified back door. “Big damn dog door,” she whispered. “I didn’t see a dog.”

“Good. Door saves us both some time. Get your ass inside, Burke.”

Jamie knelt, lifted the rubber flap, and peeked inside. Still no dog in sight. Tightening her mouth, she pushed her weapon through first, angled her hips, and crawled into the opening, her hands sliding on greasy tile. “I’m inside,” she whispered as she lay sprawled on a floor that smelled like onions and beer. Did the guy use the floor to fry his hamburgers?

“On three,” came Reaper’s raspy whisper. “One…two…three…”

As she shoved to her feet, she heard a distant crash as the wooden front door splintered, and then the clatter of nails on linoleum from a room just beyond the kitchen. She rushed through the doorway into a bedroom just as a short, very muscular brindle pit bull jumped onto the mattress, heading in the most direct path toward her. She darted into a bathroom, climbed onto the toilet seat, then the small counter. When the dog stood on his hind legs, snapping at her boots, she leapt toward the doorway and slammed the door closed, trapping him inside.

The dog thudded heavily against the wood and then barked like a hellhound.

The sound of furniture thudding came from the next room. Something glass hit the floor and shattered. Muffled grunts and curses sounded.

“Bastard, stay down!” Reaper shouted.

Speeding toward the living room, Jamie halted when she saw Daniel Mosby with Reaper hanging on their target’s back, his arm around his neck in a chokehold.

The two large men hit one side of the doorframe then the other. Mosby’s face was red, his teeth bared. Three inches taller and burlier than Reaper, Mosby kept moving.

Pulse racing, she backed up toward the kitchen doorway.

“Shoot him, Burke!” Reaper growled. “Shoot the fucker!”

Sucking in a breath, she raised her shotgun, aimed for Mosby’s large belly, and pulled the trigger.

Mosby grunted, his black eyes widened, and he screamed, despite the arm cinching his thick neck. And despite the direct hit, he kept coming.

She backed up into the kitchen, sure Mosby would drop any second, but he lunged toward a wall, slamming Reaper against it. Reaper’s hold loosened.

Mosby shook him off and aimed an elbow behind him, catching Reaper in the chin as he went down. Mosby’s dark gaze locked with hers, and he rushed forward.

With no time to load another round in the shotgun, she considered her Glock, but that was her last resort.

Brains over brawn—a cliché that had served her well in tighter situations. The bastard was big and lumbered toward her like a bear. Likely his size intimidated most men, but she wasn’t a man. And she wasn’t scared. Although she was good at pretending fear. She widened her eyes and sank into a crouch, raising a hand as though to cover her head.

Behind Mosby, Reaper groaned. “Goddammit, Burke. Use your fucking weapon!”

But she had a better idea. Killing was easy. And Mosby had sworn he’d never be caught, never spend another day in prison. She wanted the sorry asshole to spend years thinking about the fact he’d been bested by a woman.

As he rushed her, she kept her feet flat on the greasy floor and ducked to the side. Just as he came within reach, she swept out a foot and tripped him. On his way toward the dirty tile, she spun and clocked him in the back of the head with the butt of her shotgun.

He hit the floor hard, arms sprawled from his sides, and didn’t move.

Before he could stir again, she stuck a knee in his lower back, pulled back one meaty arm, and latched a cuff around his thick wrist, then repeated the action with the other. When he was secured, she shot to her feet and stood over him, at last withdrawing her Glock from its holster to point toward his ass in case he roused. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder at Reaper. “You through napping?”

“Bitch,” he wheezed from the floor.

“He wasn’t armed. What’s your excuse?”

Reaper sat and leaned against the kitchen wall, working his jaw side to side. He winced. “I was just softening him up for you, babe. Nice takedown, by the way.”

And then he smiled—a real smile, not his usual one-sided smirk. She grinned, relieved that at last he saw her worth. “I’m still too scrawny to get his ass to our vehicle. You rested?”

He chuckled and pushed upward, not hiding a groan as he straightened. “Wait until I tell Fetch. He said you were a firecracker, and that I shouldn’t count you out in a fight.”

UPDATE: The winners are…Debra Guyette and Stacy Hartley!
*~*~*

Depending on how long you’ve been reading me, you might not be aware of my naughty cowboy ménage series, Lone Star Lovers. All my sexiest fantasies are rolled up in those stories. Two cowboys, three cowboys, four… All that attention concentrated on one lucky girl… Heck, it’s not really fair, and there must be something in the water in Two Mule, Texas because there’s a whole lotta sharin’ goin’ on. 

Four-Gone Conclusion

Sometimes a cowboy needs a little help—or three brothers—to snare a wife…

Sam Logan’s boys have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. Most of it earned. When it becomes clear his foster sons won’t settle down without a nudge from him, he issues his challenge. Find a wife…

The oldest, Johnny, already had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker. Sam’s challenge just gave him the gumption to ask her out. However, before he makes his move, the twins kidnap Ellie from under his nose. Now, he has to compete with three brothers for the woman he wants.

Ellie thought her prospects were drying up until Johnny Logan finally untangled his tongue and asked her out. When his brothers kidnap her and take her to the ranch, she’s furious…then intrigued by the thought of four men bent on showing her what being their’s would be like.

Read an excerpt…

“I could help you, you know,” Killian said, his tone casual.

Too casual. Johnny grunted. “With what?”

“Gettin’ you a wife.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Worry about findin’ your own.”

“It’s not how it works, bro. We’re brothers.”

“We’re not blood.”

“Blood’s not what counts.”

Which was a sorry damn truth they all knew too well. Blood had failed them all.

Johnny cussed under his breath. “How would you help? You gonna chat her up for me? You gonna tell her what a catch I am?”

“Well, you are. You stand to inherit a fourth of the Double Tree. And I’ve seen the way women look at you.”
Johnny snorted.

“You’re not a bad lookin’ guy.

Johnny aimed a blistering glare his way. “You gonna ask me out?”

Killian grinned. “Just statin’ the facts. You’re not hard on the eyes. And you’re tall. Girls like that. And they like your hair. They like you fine until you give ‘em that thousand yard stare like you’re sightin’ down a rifle barrel.”

Johnny gave him his meanest glare. “This isn’t gonna work.”

Killian gave a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll help. What’re brothers for?”

“You’re just hoping I’ll snag a wife and that’ll be the end of it. You’ll be off the hook.”

“Maybe.”

“You think this is funny.”

“Watchin’ you tryin’ to sweet talk a woman—yeah, it’ll be the most fun I’ve had in while. So where do you wanna start?”

Johnny didn’t answer but he passed up the most obvious place. The saloon’s parking lot was already full. Instead, he turned onto main street and slowed as he searched for a parking place.

Killian straightened in his seat. “You’re not thinkin’ of Ellie, are you?”

The way Killian said it intimated he thought Johnny had lost his mind. Maybe he had. But she was the first woman he’d thought of when Sam had mentioned the stew. “She can cook.”

Killian gave an exaggerated shudder. “But she’s mean.”

“Should be perfect for me then, don’t you think?”

Killian gave a bark of laughter then crammed his cowboy hat on his head.

Johnny raked his hair with his fingers and wished he’d thought to bring a rubber band to tie it back. However, Killian had said girls liked his long, straight hair. He didn’t know why he’d kept it. It was the one most glaring trait that set him apart from his brothers. The last vestige of the heritage he’d thrown off when he’d run away from life on the reservation.

He trailed behind Killian who stepped out with a bounce in his step, likely grinning his ass off that Ellie Harker was the first woman who’d come to his mind. What he didn’t know was that Johnny had been working up the courage to ask her out, sitting in the diner week after week, but never quite finding the right way to do it.

Killian pushed through the door of the café. Johnny caught it before it slammed in his face, but didn’t say a word. Already, he could feel his body tensing at the thought of talking to the woman.

She’d taken over the running of Katie’s Diner when Katie’s belly got too big and her husband, Cutter Standifer, had insisted she hire a cook until after the birth of their first child.

Inside, the smell of freshly baked apple pie assailed him, and his belly rumbled loudly. There could be worse things than being hitched to a mean woman, especially when she could cook almost as well as Gracie.
The place was busy. Wade Luckadoo’s girl, a college kid home for the summer with a blue streaks in her white-blond hair, glided out of the kitchen with a tray balanced on one hand. “Someone’ll be right with you. Take a seat if you can find one.”

Killian headed to the counter and slid onto a stool then patted the empty one beside him. Johnny felt his face harden to stone, his usual mask in public, as he sat. From this vantage they had a view straight into the kitchen where Ellie was working.

One glance and his body stilled, breath leaving in a quiet sigh. She was a pretty woman, although her looks weren’t flashy like most men might prefer. Pale blonde hair, pretty milk-colored skin, and he didn’t need to see what stretched below. Her well-padded curves were burned into his memory.

Right now, her cheeks were rosy, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her brow. Johnny stared, wondering, not for the first time, whether she’d taste like everything she cooked.

Ellie pushed back a lock of her pale hair that fell over her hazel eyes with the back of her hand, and then glanced up. Her startled gaze met his for second then quickly darted to his brother before falling away.

He kept right on staring, wondering how long it would be before she’d come out to check on the customers first-hand.

Killian leaned toward him to whisper. “See? She was lookin’.”

“She looked at you too. Would have looked at Ole Win’s ugly face if he’d taken a seat right in front of her.”

“But she wouldn’t have blushed.”

“She’s cookin’ over a stove. Of course her cheeks are pink.”

Killian grunted. “You are the stubbornest man I’ve ever known. She’s interested.”

Johnny didn’t like the little thrill of hope that warmed him. No use getting excited when Killian was only trying to warm him up to the challenge. “She looked at you too,” her repeated under his breath.

Killian arched a brow. “We could follow in the twin’s footsteps…”

“I’m not sharin’ a wife with you.”

“Only one of us can marry her, but seein’ as you’re a little stunted in the courtin’ arena, you might need someone watchin’ out for your interests. I can close this deal for you, bro.”

Johnny thought about all the times he’d rehearsed the perfect opening line but sat tongue-tied when Ellie’s attention landed right on him. He might need some help alright. “Say I was to agree to let you help. No one else would have to know?”

Killian’s lips curved in a sly arc. “No one other than Ellie.”

Johnny ground his teeth. “I might need a little help. The woman ties my tongue into a knot.”

“You just do what you always do. Play the silent Injun. Be mysterious. Leave the rest to me.”

Johnny didn’t like it one bit, but he didn’t see another way around it. And the last thing he’d admit to Killian was that Sam’s pronouncement had given him the nudge he’d needed. He’d had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker for weeks but hadn’t gotten up the gumption to do anything about it.

He nodded, then instantly regretted agreeing when Killian’s mouth stretched into a wider grin.

“Not a word to the twins,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“It’ll be our little secret.”

The kitchen door swung open and Ellie breezed out, a towel over her shoulder and a pitcher of water in her hand. She grabbed two tumblers from under the counter and set one in front of each man. “What can I do for you boys?”

Johnny bristled. No one called him a boy except Sam these days. And the way she said it with that wicked glint in her eyes told him she knew he didn’t like it.

Killian leaned over the counter and tilted back his head. “Sweetheart, how come no one’s married you out from under this place?”

Johnny stepped on Killian’s boot and ground his heel into his brother’s toe.

Killian grimaced but didn’t turn away from Ellie’s narrowing glance.

“Guess I’ve just been lucky,” she said, her tone brisk. “What’ll it be? We’ve got meatloaf and mac tonight.”

“Just pie. Johnny here’s been goin’ on and on about how good your pie is.”

“Has he now?” Her razor glance flicked to Johnny, and he felt its scrape against cheek. She leaned closer, her face inches from his. “What do you say, cowboy? Want me to top it with cream?”

He gulped at her throaty purr. Not a sound he’d ever heard her make. His dick stirred and his cheeks heated. “Vanilla,” he ground out.

She tsked. “A shame. Not what I had in mind at all.”

His mind went blank for second. “Um, you meant whipped?”

She gave a wicked chuckle, and his skin burned like fire.

“Now, that’s more like it,” she said, her voice deepening into husky purr again.

Beside him, Killian choked on laughter.

Ellie straightened and raised both brows. “Pie comin’ up. A la mode.” She turned on her heel, but not before he saw a hint of a smile on her face.

“Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” Johnny growled. “She thinks I’m an idiot.”

“She was flirtin’ with you.”

“She knows I can’t get a word out that makes a lick o’ sense around her.”

Killian turned his gaze from the sashay of her pretty bottom. “She knows you’re interested.”

“How long we gotta sit here?”

“’Til this place closes down. Don’t eat that pie too quick.”

“It’ll be soggy.”

“Then get another slice.”

Johnny ducked his head and turned to watch Ellie as she refilled glasses, pausing to share a word or a quick quip. She had a way with her customers. A sassy flare. With her other customers anyway. Most times, she just ignored him. Or teased him, like tonight, until he couldn’t think he was so damn hard.

Her head tilted back in laughter at something a couple said to her. Then she turned to catch him watching her.

For once, he didn’t let his glance skitter away. He held her gaze, let her note where he looked, and then burned a slow trail down her body.

This time, he saw her throat work around a gulp.

Killian nudged him with an elbow. “Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

Contest

Comment for a chance to win your choice of
one of my Lone Star Lovers books!
I’ll choose TWO WINNERS!

Here are all the Lone Star Lovers books, including the prequel story set over a century ago…

Click on the covers to read more about these books!

UPDATE: The winners are…Lisa Kendall and Cindy!
*~*~*

I love doing flashback highlights! It’s not only a reminder to you but also to me of the many stories I’ve written. Did you know before I wrote bounty hunters that I had this entire series of SEAL-hero stories? Read an excerpt from the second “Uncharted” book!

Enjoy! ~DD

   

   

   

Click on the covers to learn more about these stories!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Uncharted SEALs stories! There will be 2 winners! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

What author’s older series have your recently discovered and devoured? Spread some love!

Her Next Breath

Ex-SEAL Jackson Keller’s first mission with the Charter Group’s spec ops unit is a bust. Instead of capturing a drug lord in his Mexican compound, he finds a beautiful, naked woman. But she may have information they need to nail the narco-terrorist, so he takes her, sealing his fate. She’s his to watch, his to “manage” until the op’s done.

Suri McAnally’s made some mistakes—mainly trusting her college roomie who just so happens to be the son of one of Mexico’s most dangerous drug lords. If Jackson can save her, she’ll do whatever he says, mirror his moves, and try to keep her insta-lust under control. Her next breath depends on it.

Excerpt from Her Next Breath…

When Suri awoke, it was to discover she was resting inside the curve of Jackson’s arm, her thigh draped over his, her head on his chest. She didn’t know who’d moved the blanket. Maybe they’d both naturally gravitated together. She hated to think she might have been the one to cross the line demarking their personal space.

Partly because she didn’t want to wake him, and partly because it was a new experience lying inside a man’s embrace, she held her breath and remained perfectly still. She breathed in his scent, which was a sagey musk combined with the remaining odor of the paint he’d worn on his face. His skin was smooth, warm, tanned and cloaked a hard, very muscular frame. Her fingertips tingled, and she very nearly gave into the temptation to run one tip over his hard abs. Instead, she curled her hand into a fist.

Last night when she’d seen him fully for the first time—without the paint, his body nearly nude—she’d felt her knees wobble. He was devastatingly handsome, not in a pretty-boy way. He was too manly, too large, all hard angles and lovely bulges, with short, nearly dark-brown hair and those cloudy gray eyes. Even the stubble on his chin made her thighs clench.

Suri hoped she didn’t sleep beside him for many more nights or she’d grow accustomed to his physique. Any man she met after this little adventure would pale in comparison.

Her glance traveled downward to the sheet barely covering his hips. Maybe it was the fold of the sheets, but the fabric was tented.

“Playing possum?”

She raised her head and met his gaze, blushing because she’d been caught staring at his sex.

“Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re breathing, aren’t you?” he muttered in a graveled tone.

She frowned, not understanding, and then pushed away from his body although she instantly regretted the loss of his warmth. When she’d first awoken, she’d felt sheltered, safe—and not just from Diego and his henchmen. She’d felt…cherished.

Ridiculous, she knew. And slightly pathetic. Was she really so needy for human connection that she was romanticizing over Jackson?

But in the morning light, his face wasn’t quite so hard-bitten. Scruffy, dark bristles covered his chin and jaw; his gaze rested on her rather than spearing her.

His glance cut away, and he looked at his watch. “Chow’s nearly over. We should dress.”

“I’m starved.”

The corners of his mouth twitched.

His first smile?

And then his features grew remote again, his mouth firmed. “Get dressed. I need to check in with Teague.”

Aware his gaze followed her still, she rose and stretched her arms high, and then headed to her pillow case.

“You do that on purpose, don’t you?”

She aimed a grin over her shoulder. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

His gaze narrowed, but a one-sided smile curved.

Feeling as though she’d accomplished something noteworthy, she entered the bathroom, closing the door against the temptation that was Jackson Keller.

SAMAEL is the first book in the Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption trilogy, featuring three brothers with a very interesting job—they’re reapers.

Being the sons of the Grim Reaper comes with expectations, and their father is not happy at how they’ve been conducting business. He’s given them each an ultimatum— learn to reap with compassion and do the job to his standards or face eternal exile. Stranded in the town of Redemption with limited powers and money and no way to communicate with the outside, they’ll all play the game, reap the soul, and return to their normal lives. It’s a straightforward plan—until they meet their assignments.

Samael
Blackwell Brothers’ Redemption, Book 1

Love her. Protect her. Reap her soul.

Samael Blackwell is the son of Death—and he’s officially out of chances. After centuries of reaping souls with zero regard for the rules, his father sends him to the dead-end town of Redemption. With only a few hundred bucks and the clothes on his back, Sam has one last shot to prove he can do the job right: reap with compassion or lose everything.

It should’ve been easy. Find the soul. Finish the job. Walk away.

Then he meets Adrianne Sharp.

She’s strong, guarded, and hiding from a past that refuses to stay buried. The connection between them is instant—and impossible. Because Adrianne isn’t just anyone. She’s his assignment.

And her soul’s on the clock.

To win back his old life, all Sam has to do is watch her die. But what if the cost of redemption…is her?

He was sent to end her story. But she just might rewrite his.

An excerpt…

He pushed into a seated position and got his first glimpse of himself. It wasn’t only his watch that was gone. He no longer wore his custom Tom Ford suit and hand-tooled Italian shoes. In their place were worn jeans, a plain white T-shirt, a battered leather jacket, and boots that had seen their best day a decade ago.

He pushed himself upright and brushed the dirt and debris from his clothes. Raking his fingers through his hair, he scanned his surroundings. There were trees everywhere, not a high-rise to be seen. A huge crow swooped down and perched on a nearby branch, cold black eyes staring directly at him.

“Malaki. Why am I not surprised the old man sent you to spy on me?” Crows were often employed as messengers between the land of the living and the realm of the dead. Malaki was his father’s companion, his personal assistant, as it were. “You tell him I’ll play his game, and I’ll damn well win.”

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Want to read more? You can find SAMAEL here:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2SDQMVF/
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/samael-n-j-walters/1147212495
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/samael-13
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/samael/id6743937757

About the Author

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

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