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

* * * * *

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

Raptor’s Desire

She’s held captive by her dream lover…

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

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

Get your copy here!

Contest

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

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

You can win one of these stories…

Excerpt from Raptor’s Desire

I dreamt of him. My dark warrior.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I had, much to my shame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A possession. You are mine.”

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

* * * * *

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

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

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His SEAL Team

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

Get your copy!

Contest

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

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

You can win one of these stories…

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

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

*~*~*

From Delilah’s “How to Train Your Skjaldmaer”

So, time for some fun!

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

Conquests

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pale blue eyes flashed toward her, defiant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It honors the gods,” he grumbled.

“Have your gods served you well today?”

He did not answer.

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps that isn’t your fate, Dane.”

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

“It seems I do, does it not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hello Delilah followers! Lizzie Ashworth here. I’ve got a quiz with prizes for you today.

What is mid-July good for?  A few summer luxuries close to my heart include homemade ice cream, ice cold watermelon, tall drippy glasses of iced tea, and quiet hours in a shaded place with a book!

But don’t forget sweaty sex. Until air conditioning became standard in American homes after the mid-20^th century, summer meant fans, shade trees, and doing as little as possible. But who could skip sex with those cotton t-shirts sticking to your skin and hunky men running around without any shirt at all? Even late at night, summer brought slippery sliding sex to those rumpled sheets.

The quiz? What do you think mid-July is good for? Reply in the comment section with your idea of what this hot humid time of year is good for and your name will go into the hat for a drawing. Two winners will be announced on July 20. And the prize is…your paperback copy of my latest novel, Caerwin & Marcellus, Book II of Caerwin’s story. (This offer is good only in the continental United States.)

I’m running a limited time offer during the pre-release period for Caerwin & Marcellus (Book II). Until July 20, Book I Caerwin and the Roman Dog is reduced to 99¢. If you haven’t read it, grab it now. Book II is also discounted to $2.99. These two great novels complete Caerwin’s story at prices you won’t see again.

Travel back in time to experience firsthand the conquest and glory of ancient Rome! Pick up these books and read your way through this breathtaking saga of brutal warfare, BDSM rough sex, and tender romance that grows in the wake of devastation.

An ambitious Roman commander captures a fiery maid of Britannia and forces her to his will. A story of conquest and love set in the glory days of empire, their struggle to meet each other’s needs and expectations exposes the underbelly of Rome’s legal system, its dependence on slavery, and sexual secrets from Marcellus’ past. Can young Caerwin survive daunting challenges to her womanhood?

Book I
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/611102
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B016LA6ZVA

Book II
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/644340
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01H9EBZCQ

Today was supposed to be about a brand new release. Here’s the cover…

My publisher says it’s a glitch, and that the book should be live soon, but we’ll see. In the meantime, I’d love to remind you about all the anthologies I’ve edited that are already available! Click on the covers to learn more about these spicy anthologies! You’ll find great authors, scorching hot, inventive stories—pretty much everything you’d want in a short story collection!

Contest

The next anthology I’ll be putting together is a blue collar themed antho, but I always love hearing what themes you’d love to see next. For a chance to win a free eCopy of Rogues or Conquests, let me know what themes you’d love to see!

UPDATE: The winner is Emily K!
See comments for instructions!

* * * * *

You’re weekend’s begun. What are you going to do? Errands? Dinner out? Will it be hard to find time to read something long at a single stretch? How about picking up a copy of a short story anthology. Something delectably sexy and satisfying, but filled with stories you can linger over for a short time, then get up and go again?

I love reading short stories. They’re bite-sized, mind-candy—perfect for busy people who still crave a satisfying read. Have I said satisfying twice now? To be sure, you’ll find something to love in this delicious and extremely reasonably-priced anthology written by some wonderful authors you may or may not have ever heard about before!

Tell me you’re doing this weekend  for a chance to win a small Amazon gift card!

Rogues! Even the word conjures a special sort of hero—a playful bad boy with a heart of gold—at least when it comes to his lady love.

This volume is filled with the Jack Sparrows of old—pirates sailing the high seas, Regency-era highway men, modern day jewel thieves, like Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief—men doing bad things, bending or breaking the law, but in a very sexy way.

With fourteen stories sure to satisfy the reader who craves that ultimate bad boy, prepare to have your heart stolen!

Get your copy of Rogues now!

From Megan Mitcham’s “Swindled”…

Determined to search the kitchen and back rooms before heading home, Harper flushed. The door opened and a giggle accompanied two sets of shoes. Reaching for her matching lace thong, she continued righting herself.

“But someone’s in here,” a woman whispered.

Harper hurried to smooth her dress and split before the chick pulled out a bag of smack. There was only one person worth arresting tonight, and his voice was deeper than that.

“I know,” rumbled the voice she’d swear her mind conjured.

She’d listened to that gooey caramel tone for hours on end. Following along with the translations hadn’t diminished its panty-dropping effect. But that couldn’t be Declan. Not after the stunt he’d pulled.

A throaty moan split the air. Harper flushed rooftop-in-July-hot and clamped a hand over her own mouth. She didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a fuck-fest, unless she was center stage. If it was in fact Magnus Declan, she had to know. Yet, she couldn’t risk chasing him away by barging out of the stall unprepared.

“Ooohhh, yes,” the woman groaned, “right there.”

Curse her body to hell and back. Harper’s lady boner swelled to life as though it garnered the attention being awarded another. Releasing her mouth, she inhaled a deep quiet breath and steadied one hand on the metal wall. With the other, she grabbed her clutch from the top of the paper rack. One more fortifying breath and she leaned toward the two-inch gap between the door and stall.

Her heart ping-ponged between her belly and throat.

Baron Magnus Declan’s hips nestled in the V of a woman’s legs. Her blue dress fanned on the counter around her bare bottom while her panties dangled from the tip of a jeweled, white Manolo. Only the angle allowed the full view because his breadth could easily hide a slight woman or two. The broad’s head arched toward the ceiling, missing the best part of the whole damn experience.

The man’s face was the only thing in all of Manhattan worthy of being called art. His wide jaw looked like it could take a solid punch, while his lips could kiss any hurt away. And those azure blue eyes…

Oh god, he’s looking right at me.

Thinking she may have been mistaken, Harper didn’t move. She didn’t want to draw his attention. But the longer she watched, the more clear it became. His fingers worked the woman splayed on the counter, but he stared into her eyes. The woman’s hips rocked. His gaze did not.

An orange, spray-tanned hand coasted over his shoulder, and his gaze snapped away. “Grip the counter,” he demanded.

Harper covered her heart with her hand, trying to stop the frantic rhythm. She only succeeded in stimulating her nipples. In a flash, his blue eyes returned to her. The attention seared hot in her core. He flicked the woman’s clit and finger fucked her to the most intense orgasm Harper had ever experienced—and he hadn’t even touched her. She hadn’t even touched herself. Well, not much. Yet, her fingers bit into the clutch, her breath stalled, her body quaked. The lace of her bodice crushed under her grip. All the while, he watched her through the tiny slit. And she didn’t dare blink.

Weak-kneed and close to tears when the woman straightened her dress, Harper stumbled backward and gripped the metal bar she’d never before dared to touch in any bathroom stall. Her heart stormed inside her chest, which was minimal in comparison to what her brain did. Guilt and confusion assaulted her for a long minute, but stubborn pride lifted her chin. Manolos clacked across the short room. Air shifted, and the door met the frame with a thud. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew he remained.

The bastard.

Determination straightened her shoulders. She had done nothing wrong, though the wetness between her legs called her a liar.

Lusting wasn’t illegal.

The water turned on at the sink. Harper exhaled and stepped out of the stall. Declan’s knowing gaze held her own as she walked to the nearest sink. She turned the faucet on and lathered soap, nearly mimicking his movements.

“What kind of name is Magnus, anyway?” Harper asked.

The corner of his mouth quirked before thinning. He dried thick hands, tossed the cloth into a wicker hamper, and then snagged hers and did the same. His gaze considered her like she were an intricate puzzle. “The only thing my mother gave me before divorcing my father for a younger hotter version with less baggage, taking her money with her, and leaving me and my siblings destitute.”

She hadn’t expected that, but tried not to show it. Probably wasn’t true anyway. Just something to sway her feminine emotions. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Is that your excuse for using women like disposable rags?” She nodded toward the hamper.

“If you’d paid attention, and I think you did,” his pink lips spread wide at that, “you’d recall mutual using going on. Women and men have been using each other for piles of centuries. It won’t stop anytime soon.”

“What does your wife think about that?”

“Ex-wife,” he corrected, smoothing his dark blond brow.

Of all things, her pulse skittered at the stroke of his finger across the coarse hair. He rubbed a thumb over his lower lip, taunting her. “I wanted a title. She wanted security.”

“Security?” Harper swallowed.

“In the bank account and bedroom.” He stepped forward, brushing the lace of her dress with his high-end suit’s buttons. His breath tickled her cheek as he leaned down. “Her extravagant lifestyle and first marriage left her in need. Do you know anything about need, Harper?”

“Detective Lang,” she snapped. Or at least, she tried. His manly scent and proximity screwed with her senses. She breathed deeply, fighting to ignore the brush of her nipples against his chest. “Why did you give me the diamond?”

“Have it tested. It’s not the piece from her family’s collection, which she sold five years ago, but one I purchased to replace them on our three-year anniversary. It’s a quarter carat larger.”

Harper collected every speck of self-control she possessed, planted two hands on his chest, and shoved. The big man only moved an inch, but it was enough that she squeezed between him and the wall and hurried toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to cuff me?”

She didn’t have anything to hold him, but still she stopped with one hand on the door.

“No, you’re not,” he said, drawing nearer. “You don’t want anyone to know I made you come without a single touch.” Looming over her shoulder, the heat of his large body shot a wave of gooseflesh across hers. “I’ve never seen such an honest reaction in my life, and that’s a treasure too exquisite to share.”

I had such an amazing response to this last month I’m going to offer another giveaway for print copies of Her Creed with the first cover I had created! Like a collector’s edition of filthy!!

Once upon a time someone told me a story idea about a Gladiator style fight club that I just HAD to write. I said no. For a year and a half. He just kept saying what a good idea it was and how I could call it Gladi-Rapers. Yes you read that right. Gladi-Rapers. Politically correct and I parted ways a while ago. I LOVED the name cause it was so filthy but writing a historical **gag** book was just not something I want anything to do with so I said no again because it’s historical. My guy blinked and said, “It’s not historical. It’s modern day. Like MMA meets a super dirty underground sex club.”

Mind. Blown.

So OF COURSE I HAD TO WRITE IT!!

This was the first cover I had created by the amazing Syneca Featherstone! I loved it! Was exactly what I had in mind.

Then when it was all edited by the amazing Delilah Devlin herself and ready for production my formatter called a halt! He’d had a very negative reaction by Amazon to a non-con book based off of what was on the cover and it got banned. Red!!

So I changed the title to Her Creed, the series name to The Cage, the tagline and the cover and WHAMMO! I had something amazing that depicted the story perfectly and I couldn’t be happier with the finished product. And now all the dirty stuff is on the pages which I totally dig.

But you see I have a problem. I have a handful of eval print books made with the other cover so I was hoping somebody might want a copy to help me out. You know. Help me clean them out of my office. So the following bit of awesome is up for giveaway for the next couple days. And if I get a large enough response I’ll give away two prize packages to two different winners!!! The first prize pack has a print book, swag, and I have one more amazing bag from the Wild Wicked Weekend 2016. All of the signing authors are on there and the male hosts have all signed the back. The second prize pack with be a copy of the book and swag and some extra goodies I have around! So I need to find the yumminess a couple good homes. Want to help me out??

To enter all you have to do is go like my facebook author page and then tell me your favorite song. Super simple!

https://www.facebook.com/jenniferkaceyauthor/

Why do you have to tell me your favorite song? Because I’m a bit of a music whore. I listen to music ALL the time and I have amazon money burning a hole in my online pocket.

Right now here are a few of my favorites!! No order in particular. Just a whole lotta awesome!

Cam – Burning House

Kadie Lynn from AGT because she’s from my town!

Selena Gomez – Hands to Myself

Lukas Graham – Better Than Yourself

Disturbed – Sound of Silence

Chase Holfelder – Blackbird

Enjoy!!!

And I’ll leave some deliciousness below to tempt your kinky appetite…..

Fighters take the ultimate prize for victory…

Underage KC snuck into the underground fight club called The Cage. But it was no ordinary fight club. The participants didn’t battle for titles or a useless belt to collect dust. The men and women brawled for only one thing. To be the victor and take the spoils of war they’d earned with their blood, sweat and tears. Not for money or jewels. They fought for the right to take the loser in any way—and any hole—of their choosing.

But KC was discovered by one of the bouncers and taken to a room with no way out. To the office of the owner, Creed, who held more than just her fate in his hands…

He’d seen hundreds of warriors find their way to his door with visions of grandeur and conquest. But it took a girl not yet a woman to remind him why he worked so tirelessly day in and day out. Her eyes. They would haunt him long after he threw her out of his arena and told her never to return.

Years later, they meet again, and KC is ready to take her place amongst his fighters. Creed wants nothing to do with the woman she’s become, but their fate has an interesting way of setting things right.

Consent has never seen this kind of fight club…

Amazon – http://goo.gl/fnXfr7
Amazon Print – http://goo.gl/hPMMVJ
B&N – http://goo.gl/wfBf1Z
Createspace Print – https://goo.gl/YFnfCE
Kobo – https://goo.gl/u0Se7B
Smashwords – https://goo.gl/Lz3c88
Are Café – https://goo.gl/N0QTVs
Ibooks – https://goo.gl/ZNLrfH
Website – http://goo.gl/JKdSvO

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey

About the Author

Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her miniman in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.

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