This is just a quick note to let you know that Dark Seduction, a full-length erotic paranormal story, is out today! So, if you love a very erotic, very dark story, this one’s for you. 🙂

Get your copy here!
Available in the Amazon store, on Kindle Unlimited, and in print!

Ready for a meaty, sexy read (full-length novel)? Plenty of plot twists? Vampires, demons, and zombies? A yummy menage? A sexy, sexy hero (this one’s EROTIC!)? Well, it drops tonight after midnight!

Dark Seduction

A raging storm unleashes a tempest of desire and an ancient evil…

For nearly 800 years, Revenant Nicolas Mountfaucon has dedicated his life to ensuring an immortal monster never walks free. When a terrible storm unleashes the beast, Nicolas’s past rises to haunt him, taunting him with the memory of the death of his bride and the loss of his brother at the hands of the ancient demon known as “The Devourer.” Nicolas turns to the only person who can provide him emotional and physical solace, Born vampire Chessa Tomas, sure she will join the hunt for the evil creature.

Only Chessa wants nothing to do with hunting the “Big Bad”—she’s shed her responsibilities as a Born, refusing her seat on the council because she doesn’t trust their leader. However, Nic isn’t as easily dismissed—he appeals to the secret side of her nature that begs to be dominated.

Pre-order your copy here!

An excerpt from Dark Seduction…

Fresh from her shower, Chessa heard the heavy knock and glanced at her clock on the bedside stand. Still an hour before she had to be at work.

Not the super. She’d paid her rent. Besides, he’d fled with the rest of the building’s inhabitants when the Mayor had ordered evacuation.

And not her partner seeing whether she wanted to get a cup of coffee before reporting to duty. Her partner wasn’t coming today.

Or ever again.

Curious, she threaded through piles of discarded clothing to her front door and peered through the peephole into a hallway lit only by grayish, pre-dusk light from the landing window. The power had gone out sometime during the night. Just one more annoyance on top of the last hellish twenty-four hours.

A familiar man stood on her threshold. Broad shoulders, long dark hair—her body clenched. “Nic?” What was he doing in the city again so soon? How the hell had he gotten in? She’d heard most of the roads around the city were closed due to flooding.

“Chessa, open the door.”

Something in his voice had her gripping the doorknob tight. Her breath hitched. She didn’t want to know what had brought him here.

“Please,” he said, weariness and raw, aching need flavoring the rich timbre of his voice.

Although they’d sated their appetite for sex a few hours ago, Chessa’s body softened instantly, heat tightening her womb. She hated the way her body betrayed her.

They’d said their farewells, she reminded herself. “We had a deal, Nic. You stick to your turf—I’ll stick to mine.”

“Chessa, open the goddamn door.”

The “or else” he left unspoken in his lightly accented voice. She got the message and turned the knob, stepping aside to let him in as she wrapped her towel tightly around her body.

A quick, sweeping glance told her there was trouble. Big, fat vampire trouble. Nicolas looked a mess.

His long black-brown hair hung in damp, curling tendrils around his lean face. His exposed skin was grimy-looking, and he smelled of sewage and sour swamp water.

His hands reached for her.

Without time to sidestep, she found herself smashed against his chest, his strong hands clutching her close.

She leaned back in the circle of his arms and stared into his face. What she saw troubled her. His jaw was clenched tight, and his face was unnaturally pale—even by a vampire’s standards. “What’s happened?”

His throat tightened, but he shook his head and lowered it.

Only she’d just had a shower, and he stunk to high heaven. Besides, she needed space to calm the riot of feelings he aroused. Ones she was still uncomfortable acknowledging even existed. She pressed her palms against his chest to halt him.

She loved Rene. Although he’d chosen to enter a mage’s sanctuary with another Born vampire, Chessa wasn’t over him yet.

Her feelings for Nicolas were strictly carnal—and she needed to get her libido back under control. Unbridled passion had been unleashed by proximity to Natalie Lambert’s coming into season, as only a transforming Born could inspire. That arousal had spilled over onto Chessa and Nicolas—it was the only explanation Chessa would allow for the strength of the desire that even now made her body yearn toward his.

Nicolas’s chest heaved, and his eyes narrowed to feral slits. “Don’t deny me. Not now.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

“Then we’ll shower,” he said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

As always, his first terse words had her melting. “Tell me why you’re here,” she said, searching for a way to put him off while she shored up her fading resistance.

Another shake of his head, this time sharp and violent. “Later,” he ground out.

Then she noted the wildness in his eyes. Something had rattled his cage. Nicolas was never anything but completely in control. Chessa felt the last bit of solid ground crumble beneath her. “All right,” she said softly and held up a hand to ward off a kiss. “But shower first.” He’d have to let her go to follow her.

However, Nicolas wasn’t giving her the space she needed to regroup. He grabbed the top of her towel and ripped it away then slammed his mouth on hers, backing her toward the bedroom.

Chessa’s bare feet skidded on her wood floor as she dug in her heels, but he swept her along, through her bedroom into the bathroom, all the while punishing her lips with a brutal kiss.

When the edge of the tub brought them up short, he reached behind her and yanked aside the shower curtain. “Turn it on.”

Dumbly, she reached behind her, fumbling to turn the knob, finally sending a spray of water that misted around them before he lifted her above the rim of her tub to set her inside.

Nicolas tore at his clothes, dropping them at his feet, then stepped beside her in the stall, crowding her against the cool tile walls with lukewarm water falling all around them. “Any more objections?” he asked, in his oddly rasping voice.

She shook her head, overwhelmed and mute with rising desire. Her body already strained toward his. Her breasts swelled, her nipples ruching tight and hard. Her legs trembled, and her sex released a trickle of fragrant moisture she couldn’t deny.

His hands reached around her and grasped her bottom, lifting her off her feet, crushing her breasts to his chest, her mound against the base of his rigid cock.

With his erection pressing into her belly, any objection was obliterated. She flung out her arms and gripped his shoulders, aiding him as he angled her body toward his and thrust his cock between her legs.

Chessa groaned as he slid inside her. “Bastard, we had a deal.”

His response was a flex of his hips to thrust hard inside her, tunneling deep, pressing higher until the strength of his hips and cock had her feet dangling above the porcelain bottom of the tub.

When he’d reached inside her as far as he could, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing away her breath and laid his cheek alongside hers, his chest heaving.

She shivered from arousal so strong it nearly choked her and from fear of whatever had shaken Nicolas to his core. She’d never seen him like this. “What is it? What’s happened?”

His head drew away, and his gaze burned as it slid to her lips. “Later,” he groaned.

Again, the wildness in his gaze and the tension that gripped his broad shoulders and arms as he held her unsettled her. This wasn’t Nicolas with his sardonic quips and ever-watchful gaze. Accustomed of late to him showing up at unexpected times to tempt her, this was different.

He was frightened.

Although tempted to argue, to chide him and try to drive him away, she wound her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and pulled him close, dragging his head down to bury against her shoulder.

If she were honest with herself, she was glad he’d come.

Not that she was ready to be anybody’s rock. She had problems of her own. A life to sort out. One far away from the vampire enclave at Ardeal.

Nicolas was entrenched in that life, but she had broken free decades ago and had vowed she’d never go back. Whatever was bothering him now wasn’t her problem.

But she could hold him and let his warmth and strength provide her comfort as well. She had her own needs and a desolate loneliness that had filled her when she’d shut her apartment door hours earlier and realized the only friend she’d had in the world was lost to her forever.

“Stop thinking,” he growled.

“Just fuck me,” she bit out, meeting his hard gaze with a glare of her own.

Their hips churned together in a desperate coupling. Not at all the sexy, teasing pummeling she’d come to expect—that in itself was an indication of his upset. His movements lacked finesse. He gave no thought for her pleasure, which he was always so careful to draw out—torturing her with her own desire.

Instead, his hands gripped her ass hard, pushing her up and down his cock, grinding her back against the cool tiles as he powered into her.

When he came, his eyes squeezed tight, his body grew rigid, and he held his breath for one endless moment. After his pulsing release waned, he dropped his forehead against the tiles. “Get out.”

Surprised at the harshness of his voice, she didn’t question him, just unwound her legs from his waist and slid down his body. She stepped out of the tub to dry herself with a towel while he remained inside, drawing the curtain closed behind him.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Despite the humid air inside the room, she shivered.

Damn. It sure as hell felt like she cared about the fact he’d tossed her out of her own shower.

UPDATE: The winners are…PansyRose Parsons and Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

Before I wrote bounty hunters, I wrote about vampires…

Knight in Transition

A member of an elite police unit sworn to hunt vampires, Joe Garcia’s life is turned upside down when he’s transformed into one. On a quest for a cure, Joe’s search brings him to New Orleans in a last-ditch effort to recover his humanity.

Professor Lily Carlson, a renowned expert in vampire lore, has a condition of her own. Her sexual libido has been in hyper-drive for months. Her only defense is to hide behind her glasses and tweed suits and stay as far away from men as possible. However, she’s thrilled to discover vampires really do exist when Joe shows up on her balcony.

Although Joe deflects her attempts to make him a case study and confirm a few vampire statistics, he is drawn by her powerful allure. When werewolves join the chase and track her through New Orleans, Joe’s cop instincts tell him there’s a mystery to solve. Intent on protecting her, he must seek help from the last vampire on Earth he wants to ask.

While his hopes for deliverance from his fate dwindle, Lily’s life is forever altered by an unexpected inheritance.

Get your copies here!
Night Fall Series

How it begins…

The small sign in the café window read: Welcome Vampires and Sanguinarians! (No blood products provided—none permitted on premises! The Management).

Joe Garcia snorted. Every human in the place was a walking, breathing blood product — a portable soda fountain for the Fanged Ones.

He pushed through the glass door and tried to dampen the hope that rose in his chest, causing his heart to beat faster and his hands to sweat. Thusfar, he’d met only disappointment in his long search. This might be just another dead end-the last one he could afford before his cash ran out and his credit card was maxed.

Professor Carlson was his last hope.

Inside the cafe, enticing aromas assailed him. The smell of roasted coffee beans, which had been his life’s blood in another existence, was overlaid with the tangy scent of the real thing-the warm, viscous red stuff. The latter reminded him he hadn’t fed this evening, and hunger gnawed at his belly, making him edgy and irritable.

And something else enticed him. Something dark and sensual perfumed by a female musk with a tincture so unique it immediately sent a curl of heat to his groin.

He walked past the coffee bar without acknowledging the barrista’s greeting and wound his way through the tables, ignoring the human appetizers. His gaze was fixed on a menu board at the entrance of a roped-off area in the back, that read, “Vampire Survey Here”. An arrow pointed down to a table laden with a stack of pamphlets.

He brushed past the table, searching the back of the restaurant for his quarry.
“Sir, are you here ’bout da survey Professor Carlson is conductin’?”

Joe turned toward the voice flavored with a deep Louisianan accent. A pleasant-faced girl with black corkscrew curls all around her head sat at a table near the cordoned entrance.

He bit back the rude retort that immediately came to mind and answered, “Yes. I need to speak with her.”

“Well, you’ll have to complete a screenin’ survey first,” she said pleasantly but firmly, holding up a stapled document.

Joe sighed and accepted the papers. What the hell? Five more minutes wouldn’t kill him.

“Do you have a pencil?” she asked. When he shook his head, she gave him a superior smile and extended a short, sharpened pencil.

Joe didn’t like her attitude one bit, so he reached for her hand, running his fingers over her palm before taking it.

Her smile slipped and Joe could well imagine her thoughts. Another vampire wannabe was hitting on her. He smiled and let her see his teeth.

Her eyes narrowed and a single brow rose. She wasn’t impressed.

That actually gave Joe hope he was in the right place after all. His sharp fangs hadn’t fazed her.

“You can take a seat with the other guy,” she said, indicating the first booth along the back wall.

Joe walked over and slid across the vinyl seat opposite a young man dressed in black leather and sporting no less than five facial piercings. The piercings glittered like tinsel in the dim light and Joe wondered how the kid could stand leather in May-New Orleans was already sweltering, even at night.

Turning over the top page of his survey, Joe quickly scanned the questions. He hoped like hell they were only meant to screen out the weirdoes and pretenders. Otherwise, he was screwed.

He wet the tip of his pencil on his tongue and read the first question.

“Do you consider yourself a Vampire or a Sanguinarian?”

Since he had no clue what a Sanguinarian was, he checked, “Vampire.”

“If you checked ‘Vampire’, skip to question 6.”

Maybe this wouldn’t take so long after all.

In the middle of the page, he found 6. “How often do you have the urge to drink blood?”

He checked the block beside, “More than three times a day.” Three times a night would be more accurate.

“How often do you drink blood?”

“Once a day.”

“Do you drink your own blood?”

“What would be the point?” he muttered, and checked “No.”

When he reached the question, “Do you drink blood during sexual encounters?”, he’d had enough.

He tossed the survey to the table and started to rise.

“She won’t see you unless you finish the survey,” Metal Boy said, without looking up from his form.

“She’ll see me.”

The young man’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “You’ll have to wait your turn. I was here first.”

Joe lifted his lips and showed him his fangs.

Metal Boy smirked and then lifted his lips, displaying a whole row of sharpened teeth.

Joe took a quick glance around the café to make sure no one was near, and then leaned over the table and shook his head. He let the change come over him, reveling for once in the wildness that surged in his veins as the bones in his forehead and brow shifted, and his skin stretched tightly.

The boy’s eyes widened until the whites symmetrically framed his irises. “I-I’ve just thought of somewhere else I need to be,” he said, and quickly scooted off the seat and ran for the exit.

Satisfied that vamping was good for at least scaring the shit out of punks, Joe took a deep breath and relaxed, feeling his face reform to his human mask. Then he headed back to the girl with the wild hair.

“I’ll see her now,” Joe said, not even trying to conceal his impatience.

“Have you finished dat survey?” she asked, her nose buried in her Cosmo magazine.

When he didn’t respond, she raised her eyes.

Something in his expression made her hesitate. “I’ll see if she’s free.”

Joe smiled grimly. “You do that.”

She was back in a moment. “Professor Carlson’ll see you now. You left your survey on the table, but I gave it to her.”

He followed her to the farthest corner of the café, toward another booth. A green lamp suspended over the table lent the corner a warm glow. When he drew alongside the green vinyl seat, the girl indicated he should sit and promptly left. Joe turned his gaze to the figure seated on the opposite bench.

His research had told him the professor was considered an expert in vampire lore. She’d written papers, magazine articles, and books, and even been consulted by more than one movie producer. When he’d typed “vampire expert” in the Internet search engine, her name had popped up everywhere.

All his research told him she might hold the answer, but it hadn’t said anything about how young or drinkable she was. Her hair was neither blonde nor brown, but the warm color of whiskey. Her eyes, hidden behind a pair of wire-framed glasses, glinted cognac. Her lips were a pale rosé.

The hunter within him woke.

Realizing he’d been staring, he cleared his throat. “You’re Professor Lily Carlson? The author of ‘Vampires: Myth and Reality’?”

Her gaze swept over him. An action so swift, he thought he might have imagined it. “And you are?” she asked, leaning over the table to extend her hand.

Joe froze. That indefinable scent was all over her. He had the urge to rub on her like a kitten in catnip. He eyed her small hand, afraid to touch it and feel the blood humming below the surface of her creamy, white skin. He was that close to jumping her. “I thought the survey was anonymous.”

“Oh, it is,” she replied quickly, withdrawing her hand. “You’re responding to the ad, then?” At his nod, she looked vaguely disappointed. “Well, I suppose I should review your answers. Please have a seat,” she said, waving him toward the bench seat opposite hers. “Thank you for taking the time to help me with my research.”

Bemused, Joe slid onto the seat. He knew he should get straight to the point, but he stalled. For just a few minutes, he wanted to be with a woman while she looked at him as if he was just like any other man. Well, perhaps like he was a man with a serious mental disorder. But at least, she wasn’t recoiling in horror or inspecting him like the Bearded Lady at a freak show.

Not that she was a great beauty, nor even as strong and fierce as his ex-partner Darcy. Dressed in a boring-beige suit, her whiskey-colored hair piled in a loose knot on top of her head, and her glasses sliding down her shiny nose, she looked like the schoolmarm she was. But while all the beige and brown should have made her look muddy, she glowed golden in the lamplight. And her scent—richly textured with something wild and animalistic—was extraordinary.

The woman opened his survey and glanced at his answers, then flipped the page. Her lips pursed for a moment, drawing his gaze to her full lower lip. “There are a few more questions I need answered. Do you mind if I learn a little more about you?” she asked, glancing up at him from beneath her gold-tipped lashes.

The surge of heat that centered in his groin was way out of proportion to her innocent question. Afraid he’d stutter over a tongue that suddenly felt too large for his mouth, he merely nodded.

“You understand the questions I’m about to ask you are part of a sociological study I’m conducting about our vampire subculture?”

Again, he nodded.

“All information you provide,” she recited as if from rote, “will be completely confidential. I hope you will answer me honestly,” she gave him a doubtful stare, “or to the best of your ability.”

She looked expectantly at him, so he nodded again.

Her gaze returned to his survey, and she cleared her throat. “You…are a vampire?”

“Yes.” This was the first time he’d admitted that fact out loud, and he knew how ridiculous it sounded.

“So, are you a Psy or a Sang?”

“There’s more than one kind?” Joe asked.

“A Psychic vampire feeds on a human’s energy; a Sanguinarian is a blood-drinker.”

“I guess I’m a Sang.”

“You drink blood once a day?” she asked, her head still bent over the paper.

He shrugged, hoping she’d glance up at him again so he could see whether her eyes really were a warm, golden-brown. “More or less.”

She scribbled something in the margin of his survey. “Well, which is it?”

“Sometimes more.”

“Do you drink human blood?”

Joe wished she’d end this line of questioning, or he’d be drooling shortly. Her scent had every appetite revving into high gear. “Yes.”

She glanced up from the survey. “How long have you had the urge to drink blood?”

“Since I woke up, tonight.”

She blinked. “No, I meant…since ever.”

ALL THE NIGHT FALL BOOKS!

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What was the last paranormal story you read?

Here’s a reminder! If you have Kindle Unlimited, you can download my latest bounty hunter story, Eli, for FREE. It leaves KU on April 24th, so don’t delay!

Eli

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: DEAD HORSE, MT
Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

An ex-SEAL sniper, who has spent his life experiencing everything from a distance, finds his self-imposed solitude challenged by the one woman in the world who might have been made just for him.

Eli Pope left the SEALs when he feared that he was losing his humanity. Now, he’s the latest new hire at the Dead Horse branch of the Montana Bounty Hunters. However, working with the tight-knit hunters hasn’t broken through his reserve. He’s still the man on the outside looking in.

Then a chance meeting with Sheriff’s Deputy Kira Ennis sets him on a new path, leaving him hopeful for a brighter future. She’s unlike any woman he’s ever met—independent, smart, brave, and strong in her own right. He begins to believe that she’s the one person in the world meant to end his loneliness, but he hesitates, wondering if it’s right to pursue her when she’s so much younger than he is.

Get your FREE copy here!

UPDATE: The winners are…Athena and Miki!
*~*~*

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 EXPLOSIVE opening scene of Heart of a SEAL. This story is shorter than most of the Uncharted stories, but I figured it was more of a revisiting with the characters, so readers might enjoy a slice of what happens in the happy-ever-after for Sam and Ash.

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 like the idea of romances featuring married couples?

Heart of a SEAL

Aislinn Blalock is the lone survivor of the extraction team sent to rescue hostages in Cambodia from the vicious criminal gang holding them for ransom. After her helicopter crashes, she has to stay one step ahead of them to stay alive long enough for a rescue team to get to her.

Ash’s husband Sam watches the mission go sideways on a computer monitor, sidelined by management because one of the team happens to be his wife—but now, there’s no way in hell he’s sitting this one out. He’s getting to Ash before the armed gang can cause her any harm. He’ll risk everything to save the woman who holds his heart.

Excerpt from Heart of a SEAL…

What a difference six months made. Aislin Blalock lay in tall grass beside a withered rice paddy, staring up at a clear, starlit sky. A billion pinpricks of light scattered across a dark canvas. No moon, thank God. Beautiful, really. But the distant stars only deepened her sense of unreality. In the distance, she heard metallic creaks and groans, as well as the crackle of fire. She had yet to move, afraid adrenaline was giving her brain the wrong signals, masking the fact she’d been hurt. She had, after all, just fallen from the sky.

Six months ago, she would never have imagined she’d be here in Cambodia in December, participating in a mission to rescue wealthy tourists who’d been kidnapped for the fat ransom their families would pay. She’d been a cop, still suffering the loss of her boyfriend and partner during a robbery. Just met the man who would drag her out of hell and show her love was still possible. That guilt didn’t have to consume her. That she had the right—and the duty—to survive and find happiness. No longer did she drink herself into oblivion for the chance to dream of Marc and pretend he wasn’t gone. Now, she had Sam.

Sam…

Ash drew a deeper, sharper breath.  He hadn’t been happy about her being pulled from her training with Charter to be part of this team, but the company had wanted a woman along, and she was one of the first female operatives they’d hired. He’d been supportive of her decision to apply for a position with his company as a field operative. Naively, she’d believed that being part of Charter, rather than remaining with the New Orleans Police Department, would mean they’d see each other more often. And she’d needed a change. A new job. New home. Without constant reminders of what she’d lost or the time she’d nearly lost herself grieving after Marc’s death. When Charter had tapped her for this mission, she hadn’t hesitated.

Two of the hostages were nuns—not wealthy tourists like the rest. And Charter had decided she’d make the women more comfortable during the rescue and transit. But her team never made it to the drop zone, a click from the kidnapper’s jungle encampment. Although they’d flown well below radar, someone had alerted the well-organized, well-funded group holding the hostages.

Her helicopter had been in the lead. She’d already shuffled toward the open door, ready to drop down a rope when they’d been hit. She’d had a split second to react. Thought she’d heard a voice in her ear, telling her to jump. Marc’s voice, but that had to have been a dream. Her subconscious prodding her to take that leap of faith.

Her landing had been cushioned by deep, soft vegetation. She’d landed on her feet. Sort of. Her bottom making contact a split-second later. Even if she’d suffered a break or a spinal cord injury she couldn’t yet feel, she was far better off than the men who’d been aboard her helicopter. She’d had time to jump from the left door when the right side of the helo sustained a direct hit from an RPG. The rest of her team, whom she’d met only two weeks before, hadn’t been so lucky.

She drew deep, ragged breaths. Lungs expanded. No hitch, so her ribs were likely fine. Inside her combat boots, she wiggled her toes and felt them scrape hard leather. Time to move. But she was still afraid. After a few wasted moments, at last, she rolled to her right and came up on her knees. Everything appeared to be working, but maybe she’d sustained internal injuries. Gingerly, she dropped her pack and unlatched the cover, feeling inside for her headset. Her hands closed around thin bands. She donned her headset then the night vision goggles, set her mike beside her mouth, and tapped ON, using the team’s call sign to identify herself. All actions were performed by rote, because if she’d had to think, she would have frozen. “Do you read me?”

“Jesus, fuck!”

She almost smiled at hearing Sam’s break with protocol. But his curses, so harsh in her ear, relaxed her. For the moment, she felt his reassuring presence.

“We see one heat signature a distance from the helo. That you, babe?”

“Yes. I don’t think anyone else made it out.”

“The second helo just crossed back into Viet Nam.”

Which meant she was alone. If anything had gone awry with the mission, the pilots had been ordered to return to Charter’s base camp. She swallowed hard to still the panic rising in her throat.

“Are you hurt?”

She heard the soft note of hesitation in his voice. Knew he was bracing for the worst. Not sure, yet. “No,” she said, more firmly than she felt.

“Fuck. More heat signatures. Nine of them. Coming from the West.”

Her stomach clamped. Men from the kidnapper’s encampment. “Roger,” she said, her voice clipped. She knew what she had to do. Run.

“Head northeast. You’ll be in deep jungle. It’ll give you cover.”

She checked the illuminated dial of her wrist compass, took her direction, and pushed up into a crouch. As quickly and as quietly as she could, she streaked toward the tree line.

UPDATE: The winners are…Denise, Jennifer Beyer, and Stacey Kinzebach!
*~*~*

I love writing short stories. I used to submit short stories to publishers all the time because writing short, getting to The End quickly, gave me a rush. Writing short also gave me a chance to try new things out without a lot of risks. It’s how I discovered my love for writing bounty hunter stories! Eventually, I “graduated” to editing and publishing my own collections of short stories because I love the process of seeking stories from talented officers, making choices regarding which stories work together, editing every precious word, and then sending the book out into the world for readers to enjoy. I’m working on volume #7 of my Boys Behaving Badly Anthologies right now—Silver Soldiers—that I think you’ll like.

It releases later this year! The book will be a big thick volume of shorties and will be dirt cheap—just $0.99—like all the Bad Boy anthologies are. No excuses at all for anyone not to pick up a copy!

You can check out previous anthologies by clicking on the covers. And yes, they are all just $0.99—not because they’re not worth full price, but because the authors of these stories want as many people as possible to devour their stories! They’re a great deal and a great way to find new-to-you authors!

Contest

Comment for a chance to win the download of your choice of
one these anthologies!  There will be three winners!

Excerpt From “In the Wild” inside First Response…

If not for her GPS device, Martika Mills wouldn’t have had a clue where she was. All she knew was that she was soaked to the skin, mud sucked at her boots, and two days into this hunt, she was no closer to finding Marlon Oats.

Earlier that morning, after sliding a twenty to a gas station attendant on the Montana border, she’d thought she was getting close. She’d gotten a description of the car Marlon had “borrowed” on his flight into the wilderness and had found it parked in a narrow roadside viewing point, just inside Yellowstone National Park.

After that, she’d followed the narrow stream into a deep gully off the road, knowing Marlon considered himself quite the fisherman, or so his mother had said. No doubt he intended to live off the land until the heat died down after he’d failed to make his date with the judge in Helena, where he was due to be tried for robbing a pawn shop in Springdale at gunpoint. His mother had been very helpful, liking the fact that Marti seemed like “a nice girl” who might “ask” her son to let her put him in handcuffs rather than shooting him. His mother didn’t want Marlon hurt, even though his skip might cost her the home she’d lived in since she’d married Marlon’s no-account, long-dead father.

Marti was just about to call it a day, figuring she had just enough daylight left to get back to her SUV parked behind Marlon’s at the roadside park, when she spotted a puff of dark smoke rising over the gully. Noting its direction, she climbed up a steep embankment, seeking footholds in mud and rock and grabbing vines along the sides of the rocky face until she stood at the top and realized the land on this side of the stream was flatter and filled with tall spring grass—and a herd of buffalo that didn’t seem to pay her any mind as she bent over and dragged in deep breaths. She glanced at her hands braced on her knees and grimaced, because they were covered in mud, which she shouldn’t give a shit about because her jeans were streaked with dirt as well.

Marlon had a lot to answer for, but thoughts of the rich bounty she’d score kept her from throwing in the towel. Her mother liked to say that stubborn was her middle name, which was a quality that worked well in her line of work. She always got her man because she never, ever gave up. She’d been bounty hunting for nearly three years now, the last one going solo because she didn’t like sharing her bounty with a partner or an agency, although she was considering working for one again. Agencies often served as bail bondsmen, too, and therefore had the downlow first on the richer bounties. Fetch Winter from Montana Bounty Hunters had been working on recruiting her to join a new satellite office he was trying to get off the ground in Dead Horse, Montana, to service southwest Montana and into Wyoming. He needed hunters with experience, and he’d heard good things about her.

She’d heard good things about the agency, too, if you discounted the cable TV show that followed his hunters out of Bear Lodge. Fetch gave his crews a higher percentage of the bounty than most agencies did, and he’d assured her that he wouldn’t be looking to do any spin-off series featuring his other offices, but he had admitted that the bonuses for the hunters who permitted the production crews to accompany them were very generous. The job was hers, if she wanted it. But first, she had to find Marlon Oats.

Trying her best not to draw the herd’s attention, she walked along the edge of the ravine, keeping within the narrow line of trees standing along the edge of the ravine as she made her way toward the place she believed a campfire had been lit.

As she drew closer, she stayed hidden and peered into a clearing. A small tent had been pitched, one that had seen better days. One of the screen windows was torn, and one of the poles that held up the tarp over the door was missing. But she couldn’t make out whether anyone was presently occupying the campsite.

Just then, she heard movement coming from the stream below and a soft off-key whistling. Hunkering down, she waited patiently until the person climbed over the edge of the embankment and stood.

“Marlon, you sweet idiot,” she said under her breath. Her heartbeats quickened, and she drew slow breaths. She needed calm, not adrenaline, to get closer to her target.

Marlon strolled toward his campsite holding a string of four fish, which he lowered into a pot beside the fire. As he began taking them out, one at time, gutting and filleting them, and then tossing the pieces into a pan he’d filled with oil, she moved closer, choosing her footsteps carefully, grateful for the chorus of gargling grunts from the buffalo nearby that masked the sounds her feet made in the suctioning mud.

She studied Marlon to see what challenges he might present. A rifle leaned against the tent, and he held a knife in his hand. Slowly, she dropped her backpack to the ground and drew her own 10mm Remington from the holster on her thigh, and then began to work her way toward the edge of the tree line, knowing she’d eventually have to expose her position to prevent him from making a move toward the rifle.

Soft chuffing grunts sounded from the herd, but she ignored the animals, keeping her gaze fixed on the more dangerous game in front of her.

Then she stepped on a twig, and it snapped.

Marlon’s gaze swung toward her position, and his eyes widened. His gaze shot to the rifle, but she shook her head.

“I’m a Fugitive Recovery Agent, so you know why I’m here,” she said, keeping her tone low and hard.

Eyes still wide, his body tensed as though he was preparing to bolt upwards and make a run for it.

“Don’t even think about running,” she bit out.

He blinked, and his gaze went to something behind her. “Bitch, you might want to think about making a run for it.” Then a smile stretched across his face as he slowly stood and waved his arms.

What the fuck…?

Then she heard it. A deep, gargling grunt. With her handgun still held in both hands in front of her, she darted a glance behind her. Read the rest of this entry »

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Dark Legacy

How could everything have changed for Natalie Lambert so radically, so quickly?

Escaping from a tragic past, the virginal beauty arrives in New Orleans and falls victim to a series of strange, unearthly attacks. Now, for the first time in her life, Natalie aches with sexual desire. Confused, frightened, out of control, she struggles desperately to understand a world that is transforming around her. But soon she will be powerful and magnificent in ways she could never have imagined…

A ruggedly handsome Cajun policeman, Detective Rene Broussard has come to rescue Natalie in her time of greatest need. And when he inexplicably wakes in bed beside her—both burning with a lust impossible to deny—he doesn’t care that a dark and vengeful enemy has brought them to this moment. All that matters is the irresistible curve of her body, the heat of her passion…and the forbidden pleasures the night promises.

With one sharp, sensuous, biting kiss, he will be hers for life…and beyond.

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