On Thursday, my good friend Desiree Holt has a brand new set of stories from some terrific authors ready to launch! I’m proud to be among them! If you’d like to join Desiree’s Omega Team Facebook group, just click on the pretty picture above! My contribution to Thursday’s launch is a fun story set in my Uncharted SEALs series, entitled SEAL Escort. Read an excerpt below and get ready for Thursday!

SEAL Escort

When former SEAL, now Charter Group operator, “Snake” McPherson, is assigned to guard a social media star, he’s not pleased. Edgy from back-to-back tours in the sandbox, the last thing he wants it to tail some “selfie-princess.” Worse, the spoiled little rich girl doesn’t want anyone to know that’s his purpose. No, Cat Mikkelson insists he pretend to be her boyfriend for the weekend, a paid escort for a party at some billionaire’s private island. Worse, the woman dresses him like a Ken doll and insists they share the same room at the billionaire’s mansion.

Cat Mikkelson has a secret. Despite her carefree, online persona, she’s frightened. She’s been a prisoner inside her Manhattan apartment since she broke it off with her prizefighter boyfriend. She knows all too well what he’s capable of, so when she’s invited for a weekend getaway, she’s relieved for a chance to escape her prison while her lawyers gear up to serve him a restraining order. Her handsome bodyguard turns out to be a blessing in more ways than one. With him, she feels safe, and for the first time in a long time, she’s ready to play. The more she pushes his boundaries, the hotter their exchanges get.

As things heat up between Snake and Cat, her past pays a visit…

Yup, sexy times! Here’s a short excerpt…

Cat lost herself in his kiss, noting every caress he gave her as his hands roamed her body. She loved the insistent stab of his tongue as he plunged deep inside her mouth. Inwardly, she crowed with excitement. The time was now. No way in hell would he tell her no this time. The way he crowded his cock against her skin, he was telling her, silently, to prepare. She pulled back. “Please, Snake.”

Smiling, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I packed condoms.”

She grinned. “So did I.”

Lacing their fingers together, he tugged her toward the shore.

She needed no encouragement. Already, her nipples sprang against the thin fabric of her bikini top. Warmth filled her chest and belly, and a languid heat licked at her sex. Just as he would. She knew it. Snake wouldn’t leave her behind. Not ever.

And now, she wished she knew more about him than the fact he understood how to please her. She wanted to meet his friends, see where he lived, what car he drove, and how he filled his hours.

She’d give anything to be invited to learn more.

They moved without haste, but her body was already rushing ahead. Slightly behind him, she reached with her free hand to pull at the bow in the center of her back, loosening her top.

By the time they reached the blanket, the strappy number had fallen to their clasped hands.

He glanced downward, loosened his fingers, and let it drop. Then he gazed at her breasts.

Silently, she stood, letting him look his fill, knowing what he saw—flushed rose tips, paler pink areolas. When he reached to lift one, cupping it, weighing it in his hand, she nearly moaned she was so excited. So ready.

His thumb flicked one tip.

Lust hit hard, and she drew a sharp, hissing breath. “The other,” she whispered. “Touch them both, please.”

Snake went to one knee and burrowed his face between her breasts while he massaged the mounds with his palms. When he turned his face to draw one peak into his mouth, she clutched the back of his head to pull him closer.

He went down on the other knee, lowering his head, and then urged her with his hands to drape one thigh over a hard shoulder. Next, he tugged at the ties at the sides of her hips and drew away her bottoms. His hands sank between her legs, fondling her sex. Fingers gliding through her silky warmth and entering as he began to tongue her clit.

As she rocked her hips forward and back, she never wanted this experience to end. This sensation was heaven. She’d never felt more beautiful or been handled as though she was treasure. When his lips closed around her clit, she stiffened just a little, but he was so gentle, she relaxed again and learned to enjoy the gentle pulls as he sucked it.

A finger trailed up her inner thigh then slid inside her, swirling in her heat and drawing down more moisture, which he used to coat another. Now, two stroked inside her. The pressure of fullness felt incredible. Cat gripped his hair. “Snake.”

He gave her mound a kiss then stood and shoved down his trunks.

His cock was darker than his tanned skin and crowned with a slightly purple head. Thick bluish veins stood in relief against his thick shaft.

When she reached out, he caught her fingers. “Another time,” he said, his voice tight. “Please lie down.”

Her legs trembled, so she was only too happy to drop to the blanket then stretch across it. While his gaze roamed her body, she cupped her breasts and teased the tips, tempting him to come quickly and fill her. Her channel already pulsed and was already drenched.

Going to his knees, he slipped between her thighs, waiting.

Anticipation pumped her blood hot and fast as she opened wider and lifted her knees.

He cloaked himself, hissing between his teeth as he rolled it downward.

Then she followed his glance as it dropped, watching as he fit himself, shaped like a blunt cudgel, against her entrance.

A slow flex of his hips pushed his shaft inside. With gentle moves, he used his fingers to pull away her folds, before he could work his thick cockhead inside her.

Once he was past her entrance, he moved forward and back, easing deeper and deeper inside her, his features growing so hard and set, she knew he battled against thrusting fast.

“You’re tight,” he said, grimacing.

“You’re big.” She gave him a weak smile, because she was focused on the delicious sensations of him moving within her body. He crowded her walls, his gliding cock building frictional heat inside her…

I’ve always loved reading books with magical worlds, especially when those worlds exist inside our own. So, when I sat down to create my Beaux Rêve Coven series, I combined all the things I love…magic, the Louisiana bayou, alpha heroes, clever witches, and great sex. 🙂

Once in a Blue Moon comes out this Thursday from Amazon, so be sure to get a copy. The story will be available in Kindle Unlimited for only three months, then it will be available at all the usual places.  Read the sexy excerpt below…

Once in a Blue Moon 

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives. Five witches… Too many demons to count…

Bryn Cavanaugh and her coven like that the community they live in is isolated thanks to a storm that destroyed the bridge between them and the outside world. Now the state wants the bridge rebuilt. When the construction crew checks into the inn, Bryn begins to suspect something about the crew’s boss isn’t quite…human.

Bridges are Ethan Thorne’s thing—after all, he’s a troll—so building a simple span over a remote canal in backwater Louisiana shouldn’t be this much of a problem. When he follows the pretty little innkeeper to a midnight rendezvous, he discovers why his crew keeps running in to trouble. Bryn and her coven are casting spells in the moonlight.

As a troll, Ethan feels the sting of his low place in demon hierarchy. But finding an unprotected coven of witches in the middle of the bayou could lead to all sorts of adventure. And it’s better to keep your enemies close…

Pre-order your copy here!

Read an excerpt…

(Here, the heroine still thinks the hero is human. This is not the hottest scene…)

The kitchen door whooshed inward, and she glanced back. “I can handle the dishes on my o—”

Ethan stood behind her. “Let me dry.”

She didn’t want him to dry. She wanted him to make her very, very wet. She swallowed hard and faced forward. “Towels are in the drawer beside the stove.”

He walked closer and bent to reach beyond her into the drawer. His proximity wasn’t necessary, but her body wasn’t complaining. Her breasts felt suddenly fuller, her hips looser. Fingers touched the small of her back, and then he moved beside her and began to empty the rack.

“Dinner was terrific.”

She’d made shepherd’s pie with a fluffy crust, fresh bread rolls, and grilled string beans topped with sprinkles of crisp bacon.

“You don’t have to go to so much effort.”

“Cooking’s not a chore.”

“You love it,” he said, smiling.

“I do.”

“Well, I appreciate the results.”

“You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes at her stilted responses. Still, he loved her cooking. Warmth filled her chest. “You don’t have to help me with the dishes. You put in a full day’s work.”

“I prefer the company in here.”

She glanced to her side, gave him a small smile, and then finished the last of the cutlery. “These can air-dry.”

He set aside his towel and moved behind her, bringing his hands down on the edge of the counter, trapping her between his thick, muscled arms. His warm breath stirred the hair beside her ear. “Town’s small. Where does a guy take a girl if he wants a little privacy?”

To her bedroom, but she guessed that would seem a little too forward. “He might ask her to walk in the garden,” she said softly. “There’s a gazebo in the back…”

He nuzzled his nose through her hair, skimmed his lips over her neck, and she couldn’t resist tilting her head to allow him a little more access to her bare skin.

“Come with me.”

Not a request. Not that she minded at all. She was eager to be alone with him. She let him take her hand and pull her toward the kitchen door. They slipped out onto the porch, and he let her lead him with their fingers intertwined past the raised-bed herb garden, past tall beanstalks and sweet corn. She led him to the trellised gate, overhung with hyacinth. “It’s not much farther,” she said, glancing back.

His expression was closed, his dark eyes shadowed. But she wasn’t afraid. He tightened his hand around her fingers. He was growing tense. Just like she was—from anticipation.

Excitement quivered through her. Every sense was alert. Just the air brushing her bare arms and legs felt erotic. The scent of honeysuckle and roses teased her nose. The sound of his heavy tread thudded like her heartbeat. Just ahead, the latticed sides of the gazebo were like silver interwoven bones in the moonlight.

Beautiful. Frightening as well, because there in the darkness they cloaked awaited the possibility of intimacies shared—with this man who had managed to consume her thoughts from the first moment his glance had landed on her. Just yesterday. How could that be?

Already, when they weren’t together, she was obsessed with thoughts of him. When he was near, her body awoke. Her breasts ached for his touch. Her sex throbbed with building heat. She was constantly wet. Constantly ready. If he wanted her this night, she wasn’t going to refuse. Her body was too painfully aroused to ignore.

They entered the structure, and he tugged her to a halt. She stood facing away, trying to catch her breath. But her breathing was so shallow she was nearly panting.

He let go of her hand and settled both of his at her waist. His grip was light but insistent, and he pressed against her back. His chest was a brick wall. And below, she felt the nudge of a long, hard column against her buttocks.

Silently, he was warning her. This was what he wanted. She could refuse, ease away from the pressure, and he would accede, perhaps giving her kisses and caresses through her clothing. Nothing more than she was willing to accept at this moment.

But she was greedy. She wanted everything he had to give, and she wanted it now. Lifting her hand, she shifted her hair from her neck. “The zipper’s right there,” she whispered.

She heard a loud swallow and was glad he showed a little surprise. Was he as nervous as she was? It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man. Nearly five years. And then she’d been in Merrick’s thrall. His to switch on and off like a light bulb when he needed release or a spell.

Ethan’s hands left her waist. Tucking his fingers under the neckline of her dress, he slowly lowered her zipper, and then pushed her dress downward until it puddled at her feet.

She stepped out of it and moved it away with a toe. Now she stood, still facing away, in just her lacy panties and bra.

Within seconds, he unhooked her bra and dragged it off her arms. Her nipples puckered instantly in the night air. He smoothed her panties down, kneeling behind her, his cheek against her ass as he waited for her to step out of her underwear. There was no way he could miss the scent of her arousal.

He slid upward, gliding his body against hers and holding still for a moment before stepping away. The shuffling sounds of clothing being dragged off made her smile, because he was hurrying. His belt clanging on the wood floor was the final sound before he reached around her to cup her breasts. His bare cock pushed impudently against her backside.

“I apologize for the rush,” he said, a lovely growling texture to his deep voice.

“Apologize only if you make me wait.”

His laugh was short, pained. “Then I’m sorry. I don’t want to take you on the hard floor.”

She pointed to the seats tucked against the latticed walls. “The cushions,” she said, her own voice lowering, sounding foreign it was so husky.

He stepped around her, his head bent downward, concealing his expression as he grabbed cushions and arranged them on the floor. When he’d made a bed for them, he stood behind her again. “Let me do this my way.”

His way meant she would be on hands and knees. His callused palms urged her downward, arranging her knees, sinking the center of her back to tilt her bottom upward.

She didn’t mind that he treated her like a doll, that he took charge, his body blanketing hers as he set the width of her hands just so. He was warm and hard and surrounding her. His cock glided on the backs of her thighs, nudged her buttocks, and slid along her wet folds.

And his cock was huge. A blunt instrument. Rock solid as the rest of him.

When he was satisfied, he moved away. Her head bowed toward the floor. She hoped he’d take her. Sink his many inches inside her. However, the first flick of his tongue against her folds sent an electrical charge through her.

She must have been wound too tight. Nearly on the verge of orgasm for it to affect her so. She steeled herself against the pleasure, not wanting to disappoint him by leaving him in the dust.

He teased her with more flicks to her outer folds. Then he suckled there, drawing her inside his mouth for gentle nibbles. His whiskers raked her sex and inner thighs.

Not that she minded the abrasion. He could scour her skin off so long as he found her center. Which he did, dipping his tongue inside her and swirling. A deep groan vibrated against her sex.

When he pulled away again, she whimpered. She didn’t need foreplay, she needed the main event. But the nips he gave her fleshy ass made her jerk, escalating her sensitivity to his every touch.

Fingers parted her then swirled around her entrance. They eased her open, stretched her, one finger added at a time until she was beyond full. He spent so much time preparing her for his girth, she began to wonder if she’d underestimated just as how large he was.

The moment he prodded her with the blunt knob of his cock, she knew. He spread her folds and pressed against her, apparently gripping himself to circle her entrance and ease himself inside with precision and insistent pressure.

She’d dreamed about the way it would feel. Now, pleasure was edged with worry that he wouldn’t fit. But she was wet, and more liquid seeped from inside her to coat his heavy cock. At last, he breached her entrance.

She sagged, her arms already shaking. Her body was too tight, too excited for her to slow her heart or reactions. “Ethan,” she whimpered.

The pressure relented. He held still. “Am I hurting you?” His voice sounded as though he were grinding rocks between his teeth.

“Yes,” she hissed, but she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted the pressure and the pain. “More, please.”

His laugh was choked. He gripped the notches of her hips to hold her immobile and worked himself inside in shallow, pulsing waves, in and out, deeper and deeper—until Goddess, he was touching her womb.

She felt a pinch deep inside her. A quiver of core-deep delight. This could be the moment. If only he didn’t realize he’d taken her unprotected and pulled free at the last.

Bryn sank her chest against the cushions and reached far beneath her, past his cock, to his balls. She gripped them, massaging them, sending out a flash of witch’s heat.

“Fuck, Bryn. Don’t…” He dug his fingers hard into her fleshy hips, pulled back, and then slammed forward.

She released his balls, certain he wouldn’t stop until she’d achieved her goal. She’d unleashed his passion.

His hips moved faster, his cock cramming deeply, whipping back and shoving forward again. The sheer fullness made her want to shout. Her back arched, and she pushed backward, trying to break his hold, but he began to move her, bringing her back as he thrust, pushing her away as he withdrew. He hammered her. Jostled her. Roughly, so deliciously, she was on the verge of exploding.

And then he began to move his hands on her skin. He reached up one hand to grab her hair and force her back to arch more, gliding another on her skin, raising gooseflesh. Her hair was lifting and prickling on the back of her neck. Static charged the air, and her eyes widened.

She knew at last why he’d been so attractive, why she’d been inexorably drawn to him. Why she’d craved this union.

Demon! she screamed inside. But it was already too late. Heat swept through her, electricity crackled. Her core convulsed, her orgasm exploding outward, weakening her limbs, stealing her mind.

She slumped against the floor as he thrust twice more, and then his seed jetted inside her. His shout as he came was filled with triumph.

When at last he grew still, he released her.

She crawled forward on her hands and knees and rolled to stare up in horror as he braced his hands on his thighs and met her stare. Her heart thudded dully against her chest.

His eyes glowed green in the darkness.

Not just demon. Troll!

There is something about the piano in The Clash’s “Rock the Casbah” that catches my ear. Likewise, the trumpet in Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” gets my attention every time. (Yes, Davis is a legendary trumpeter, but from all of his music, from all of jazz, that particular performance resonates for me.) I can’t explain what it is about these pieces of music that takes up space in my brain, but I am glad they do.

Music has been a tremendous part of my life for as long as I can remember. I have a personal soundtrack: songs that remind me of seminal moments, important people and my own growth.  It inspires me and motivates me. A simple song selection can help me move through deep emotions, or get through twenty minutes on the treadmill. The right beat can speed up my productivity or help me fall asleep.

As a reader, I love books that have a playlist. The songs give me a deeper connection to the characters. The music makes their struggles and victories hold that much more resonance. That may be why I chose to write about musicians in my first novel. In fact, creating the playlist was as much fun as writing their story and when I stumble upon those songs on the radio or TV, I get a moment to visit with some of my favorite people. It’s one of the many gifts of music.

Excerpt from The Girl U Want

“You’re making D.J.s famous?” Brad asked.

“You wanna be famous?” Sue tilted her head, holding his gaze. “I’ll make you famous.”

She caught him off guard. It took Brad a few seconds to put together a reply. “Man! There was some heat in that!” He took a swig of beer. “I’m already famous.”

“You’re not famous. You’re the most popular barfly in Detroit. You have a decent following in Michigan, but get away from the Great Lakes and you’re just another guy with a guitar.”

“This woman is mean, Tom.”

“Sue is painfully honest,” Tom clarified.

“And she knows her shit,” Axel added. “She researched tonight’s bands weeks ago. She knew exactly how to promote you before your names were even on the marquee. It’s too bad this isn’t Baltimore or Philly. Sue’s twenty-five and she’s already sent three D.J.s to top tier markets. She could run radio if she wanted to.”

“You just want to be famous. I—” She pointed at herself with both hands “—can make you the disdain of parents the world over.”

He didn’t even try to stop the grin. Instead, Brad pushed Axel out of the way so he could put an arm around Sue. “Come work with us. I don’t want to be famous. I want to be super famous. I want to be the enemy of every father, and more than a few husbands. Tell me how you’ll do it.”

About Elaine Reed

In between organizing her music collection and searching for the ultimate chocolate and tequila pairing, Elaine writes about people with big ambitions and bigger senses of humor.  She lives in South Carolina.

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UPDATE The winners are…Katrina Whittaker, Gail Siuba, and Jana Leah!

* * * * *

For those fans of the Night Fall series, here’s another tale—slightly removed from the timeline by a few centuries… You honestly don’t have to read any other story in the series to enjoy The First Knight. And isn’t that cover droolworthy?

The story is set back in Merry Old England, in a musty old castle. My heroine’s plucky and determined to trap her former betrothed in marriage, but he has brought back an “affliction”, which makes his lust a dangerous thing to tempt. And once the deed is done, another problem presents itself that only a naughty ménage can solve. Of course. Ahem. I do love my job. Enjoy! ~DD

The First Knight

While hiding her true identity, Maddie must seduce the mysterious Lord Garon to cement their marriage contract and ensure she won’t be returned into her lecherous stepfather’s care.

Fresh from Crusade in Palestine, Lord Garon has a secret he must hide, a hunger that must be fed, and a dark and uncertain future. Having shed himself of a fiancée he’d never met, he’s home to lick his wounds. The only thing he wants is a warm-blooded meal—but the new housekeeper is strangely insistent on giving him so much more.

Maddie’s seduction doesn’t progress without complications, but one secret from her own past might put an end to the love she nurtures for her dark, tempestuous lover.

Get your copy here!

Contest

To celebrate the release of The First Knight, I’m giving away copies of Night Fall stories, one each to three winners! All you have to do is answer two little questions!

Do you like ongoing series? How many sequels do you prefer? 

And excerpt from The First Knight…

Maddie shivered at the creaks and groans the portcullis made as it slowly rose. The rain-laden wind carried the noises and filled the silences in between with a howling that sounded like the hounds from hell had arrived at the castle gate.

Shouts outside the curtain wall had alerted them only minutes before of Lord Garon d’Albermarle’s arrival. With only a bliaut covering her sleeping shift, Maddie stood on the first step of the keep, holding a tray with a goblet of wine, ready to offer a proper greeting to her overlord.

“Are you sure this is the way you wish to go about this, M-Maddie?” Egbert asked, fidgeting at her side.

She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth and nodded.

“It be on your head then,” he said, his always-mournful tone as dire as one of Father Ansel’s Sunday sermons. She sent thanks above that the cranky priest was away, or her deception wouldn’t last past the introductions.

The clatter of dozens of hooves on the cobbled bridge beyond the gate filled the castle yard with thunder. From the encroaching darkness, the sounds were as ominous as the dark shapes looming on the gatehouse walls. The torches she’d ordered lit sputtered and flared, distorting and elongating shapes, so the men riding through the entrance appeared as tall as giants.

Already tired and on edge because she hadn’t slept since a messenger had arrived, warning the castle of his lordship’s arrival days before, Maddie’s fevered imagination painted them darker and larger still.

“Be they devils?” Egbert asked, his narrow shoulders shaking. “No one travels on a night with nary a speck of light in the sky.”

“Hush!” The storm whipping at her clothing and the fatigue from months of worry over this very moment combined to make her hands shake and blackened an already foul mood.

The horsemen entered the bailey, and a large figure separated from the contingent who approached the keep. As he drew closer, her fears weren’t eased one whit. The warrior sat atop a huge black destrier, forcing her to raise her gaze quite high to seek his face.

He wore a helm that left only his square, stubbled jaw exposed. The darkness cast by the metal nose guard concealed his eyes. Only his mouth gave a hint of his mood—a thin, straight line with the corners crimped downward.

Under his stare, Maddie’s knees trembled, but her tray never rattled. She squared her shoulders and shot a glance about her at the castle folk. “Stephen!” she called to the stable master. “See to their horses.”

In moments, boys scrambled to accept reins, and the creak of leather and the clank of iron filled the air.

The stable master himself approached the dark warhorse at the foot of the steps, but the mounted warrior’s gaze never left Maddie.

She licked dry lips with an even drier tongue. “Lord Garon?” she asked, although there could be no question who led this contingent. All gazes remained on his intimidating figure. “Please come inside, milord. Your people will see to the comfort of your men.”

His mouth twisted. “And who will see to mine?”

Maddie’s heart leapt to the back of her throat. “I will, milord.”

A long pause indicated he looked her up and down. “And who might you be, madam?” he asked, his voice a deep, hollow rumble.

Maddie remembered to curtsy, and then straightened, girding herself to speak the lie aloud. “Your housekeeper. I take care of things now.” The latter, at least, was the truth.

Lord Garon grunted. Without a glance at the stable master, he tossed down his reins and dismounted.

When he turned toward her, Maggie’s breath caught. Lord, he’s a tall man. I thought it was just the horse.

Maddie lifted the ornate chalice from the tray to deliver her much-rehearsed welcome.

Instead, his lordship’s lips pressed into a tighter line, and he brushed past her.

She was left gasping on the bottom step. “What a rude ogre!” she exclaimed, annoyed he hadn’t fallen in line with the first step of her plan.

“Watch your tongue, madam,” an accompanying knight said tersely as he followed the lord up the steps. “He has exceptional hearing.”

“M-Maddie?” Egbert said, nodding toward the door.

She shoved the tray at his belly and grasped her skirts high to rush up the steps.

The plan had seemed so simple. All she needed was to get him alone and addle his sight with a little wine or ale, so he’d not care she wasn’t the comeliest creature in the keep. Then she would seduce him.

And the sooner, the better. The longer she took losing her virginity, the greater the risk he would discover her identity. The truth was, she would rather copulate with the devil himself than be returned home.

However, this business of copulation, which had seemed a simple, messy, perhaps even enjoyable act—according to the cook—now promised to be a daunting trial.

The lord of the keep had turned out to be a giant and as dour as a priest at confession. The thought of being naked with him and accepting his manstaff into her body frankly petrified her.

She rushed through the massive doors, hoping her preparations would meet with his approval. Nothing else could be allowed to mar her well-thought-out plan.

His lordship stood in the center of the hall, his hands fisted on his hips. Unlike his men, he wore no chain mail, only a leather hauberk to protect his body. He’d removed his headgear, revealing hair as black as midnight and a face as hard as carved granite.

He was everything she’d remembered and more—more frightening, more imposing—and more beautiful because of the differences. Thanks be to God, he hadn’t recognized her.

His gaze narrowed on the hall, and she looked around to see what might already have displeased him.

Around him, servants scurried, delivering warm food to the men-at-arms as boys eagerly divested them of their armor. If she hadn’t been observing him so closely, she might not have detected the change in his posture. He scarce seemed to notice the din of activity. His mouth lost a little firmness, his hands unclenched on his hips, and his chest rose and fell deeply.

In that instant, Maddie lost a measure of her fear. Here was a man savoring his first night home after a long absence. He had a heart and cared for something at least. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a complete troll when making her his wife.

Earlier this summer I attended an outdoor professional rodeo. I haven’t watched one in years. I used to go to rodeos all the time, and I’d forgotten how much fun they are. Sitting in the stands on a sunny afternoon watching handsome men in tight Wrangler jeans, flashy shirts, chaps, cowboy hats and high heeled boots punishing their well-toned bodies on top of wild, bucking broncs and two thousand pound, angry Brahma bulls is pretty thrilling. Their skills, stamina and courage are awe- inspiring. The excitement in the stands is intoxicating.

Along with clouds of dust, the overpowering smells of manure, beer, fried onions, and cotton candy hang in the air. I love everything about rodeo…the sleek animals with their gleaming coats, the rodeo clown’s corny jokes, the bravery of the pick up men and bullfighters, the country-western music blaring over the loud speakers, and the heart-attack-inducing food. (Who doesn’t love good old southern barbeque? Or deep fried Oreos?)

I don’t know why I stopped going to the rodeo, but I do know I’m going to go to another one. Soon. Who knows, I may even become a buckle bunny.

Bitter Legacy

Sharla-Jean Bromley returns to her hometown after a seventeen-year absence with vengeance in her heart. From the very beginning, her plans go awry when she meets devastatingly handsome Josh Morgan, the man to whom her father left half of his multi-million dollar lumber mill.

Josh, suspicious of Sharla-Jean’s reasons for returning to town after such a long absence, vows to keep control of the company he feels is rightfully his. She is equally determined to prove she can run her father’s mill, even though it means working side-by-side with Josh, a man whose very presence evokes an attraction that is increasingly difficult for her to ignore. In the process, they must overcome a villain who’s determined to destroy both the lumber mill and their lives.

Will Sharla-Jean succeed and heal the anguish that has long filled her soul? Wills he and Josh find the passion of a lifetime?

Excerpt:

Sharla-Jean Bromley had wanted only two things in life—a red dress and her father’s death. She’d waited years. Hell, she’d prayed for this moment. Why then, wasn’t this a celebration? Why was a ball of acid churning through her stomach? Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the taxi and smoothed the skirt of her figure-hugging, red, silk dress over her hips.

The crowd of somber mourners stood in clusters on the sweeping steps outside the old stone church under the late-October, overcast sky. The damp air was ripe with the familiar sweet-sour smell of freshly cut Douglas fir. Over the hill behind the church, steam trailed in white plumes from the two lumber-drying kilns at the mill. A wind gusted, marshaling scattered piles of gold and red leaves into the gutter.

Goose bumps riddled her arms, and she fought back a shiver as she strode forward, knees quaking, jostling through the crowd on the wide sidewalk.

A collective gasp filled the air, and her name swept over the mourners in a rising crescendo. “It’s her! Sharla-Jean. Big Jim’s daughter.”

Buy Links:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06ZZVR5LJ/
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Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/C.-B.-Clark/e/B01BK61TQG/

About the Author

Broken Trust is C.B. Clark’s fourth romantic suspense novel published by The Wild Rose Press. My Brother’s Sins and Cherished Secrets were released in 2016, and Bitter Legacy in 2017. C.B. has always loved reading, especially romances, but it wasn’t until she lost her voice for a year that she considered writing her own romantic suspense stories. She grew up in Canada’s Northwest Territories and Yukon. Graduating with a degree in Anthropology and Archaeology, she has worked as an archaeologist and an educator. She enjoys hiking, canoeing, and snowshoeing with her husband and dog near her home in the wilderness of central British Columbia.

I loved writing this story. The brothers are all distinct personalities I heard chattering in my head. (I know, the crazy’s coming out!) I loved the mom, the solution they came up with, the ENDING! I hope you will too. In the meantime, enjoy an excerpt. I dare you to resist clicking on that pre-order link. 🙂

Family Values

Excerpt from Family Values…

Pre-order your copy now!

Her voice came from the other side of the door. They were separated by only a few inches of wood—the closest they’d been in years.

“Angel…”

She gave a heavy sigh, and then turned the lock. “Come in.”

Into her room? He’d never been inside while she’d lived here, although after she’d gone he’d often come to sit on her bed to talk to her whenever the loneliness crowded in. He turned the handle and stepped into her bedroom.

Angel sat on her mattress, cross-legged, gazing back at him. Her black eyelashes were starred, sticking together because of her tears.

Since he didn’t want to tower over her, and the chair in front of her vanity looked too delicate, he sat on the edge of the bed. He kept his gaze on his hands fisted on his thighs. “I’m sorry I shouted. But I’m not sorry for what I said.”

She snorted softly. “That was an apology?”

He aimed a frown at her. “I don’t have much practice.”

One corner of her mouth twitched. “I bet you don’t. Don’t get out much, do you?”

“Do you mean on dates?”

“Yeah, with women.”

Her tone was warm but slightly sarcastic. “I don’t date at all, Angel. I haven’t kissed a woman in years. Maybe it’s unnatural, but since you came of age, there hasn’t been anyone I wanted more.”

Her mouth dropped an inch then snapped closed. Her cheeks grew pink. “That was to the point.”

“I don’t know how to be any other way.”

Her chest expanded with her next shaky breath. “But you sent me away. Did I disappoint you that much?”

The quaver of her voice caused a pain inside his chest. “You were eighteen. What I wanted was wrong. The fact my brothers were after you, that only added to my worries. I didn’t want you trapped by a pregnancy before you had a chance to see a bit of the world.”

“I was on the pill. Mama told you that. And I only saw Austin.”

“That’s hardly Texas.”

She ducked her head, smiling slightly. “I never wanted to be anywhere but here,” she whispered.

Brand dropped his head, staring again at his fists. “I’m sorry, Angel. It’s all I can say. You have an education now. You’re grown. You can make your own choice.”

“But I can’t.”

He shot her a sideways glance. There were tears in her eyes. “Are you afraid of hurting one of us?”

Her chin trembled. “That, and…” Her gaze went to the wall, and she released a slow breath. “I love you. All three of you. So, you see…”

He stopped breathing when he heard the I love you. The second sentence was disappointing, but better than a rejection. She didn’t know it yet, but they were going to make this easy for her.

Brand reached out for her hand and held it inside his. It was slender, soft, and so small. He worried now about so many things. “Will you trust me? I know I haven’t given you much reason, but before I sent you away, we were friends, weren’t we?”

A tear rolled down one cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her other hand. “You were always quiet, Brand, remote. A little too removed from me for us to be besties. But I did trust you. When I was scared, you were the one I ran to.”

“I was older. I had no business lustin’ after you.”

“Lusting?” Her plump mouth twitched again. “There’s only twelve years between us.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And back then, I could still see you in pigtails.”

“Do you see me as a child now?”

He tightened his jaw. “No,” he rasped.

“Brand…” She paused and bit her lip.

“Out with it,” he growled. “We’re bein’ honest here.”

“I was never sure you wanted me,” she whispered. “You never kissed me. Eli brought me flowers and kissed me in the barn. And you know what Nate and I did.”

He felt a muscle jump at the side of his jaw and forced himself to relax. “I wanted kisses, Angel. I wanted you in my bed. Don’t ever think I didn’t.”

She shook back her hair and angled her chin higher. “And now? Do you still want me?”

Brand saw the challenge in the jut of her chin, but he also saw the vulnerability. There in her doe-like eyes. And the only thing he could think to do, because he sure as hell couldn’t force another word past his tight throat, was lean toward her and kiss her.

Just in time for your weekend reading enjoyment…

I have another story back “out there” for you to enjoy! If you love sexy mmf-flavored menage with some light BDSM, this will be your perfect cup of tea. I’ve included an excerpt from the opening scene below. My heroine is newly divorced and sick and tired of crying over it. Her eye is set on getting the handyman next door into her bed, and she’s not shy about tricking him to do it!

Also, there are several contests from Heather, Desiree, Susan & Allie, still open, below this post! Be sure to hit each one on your way out the door! Have a great weekend!

Handy Men

Two very handy men mend a divorcée’s broken heart…

Rather than cry over spilt milk, a newly divorced woman throws caution to the wind and decides to seduce her neighbor’s handsome handyman.

Jeff isn’t stupid—Pamela tossed those screws into her sink to get his attention! The fact she’s beautiful and vulnerable convinces him she needs “special” attention. When he has her hot and horny, he surprises her with his partner Casey and a threesome.

What starts for Pamela as a wild, no-holds-barred fling quickly gets stickier as the guys push for something lasting.

Get your copy here!

And remember what’s coming next week!

Coming August 31st!

When coming between three brothers, it’s best to just let go.

Angelina Flores lived a perfect ranch-kid childhood, complete with three princes on horseback who treated their housekeeper’s daughter like a princess. At age eighteen, the fairytale came crashing down when she realized she had to choose between Brand, Nate and Eli McAffee.

And when she did choose one–she lost all three.

She’s older now. Wiser, thanks to her college education and a few years’ distance. A distance she’d planned to maintain…until her mother begs her to fill in at the ranch while she takes care of a sick relative.

The minute her boots hit the front porch, the memories come flooding back, right along with the hunger. It’s tough to put the past behind her when temptation is so close. Especially since the brothers seem bound and determined to woo her. Separately. Together. Whatever it takes to keep her right where she belongs–in their arms.

Pre-order your copy here!

Excerpt from Family Values…

For Angelina Flores, stepping across the threshold of the MacAfee ranch house was a moment filled with both nostalgia and pain. The dull thud her boots made on the natural, planed-oak flooring was a familiar sound—and not one she’d heard anywhere else. The faint smells of beeswax and Pine-Sol mixed with the scent of the freshly cut roses in the Mexican crockery atop the rugged fireplace mantel. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself at ten years old, running with her muddy boots through the family room to tell her mother about her day, about the animals and the cowboys—her new friends, who’d let her ride behind them on their tall horses.

Her childhood had felt enchanted. And she’d had three handsome princes fawning over her, showering her with pretty clothes and dolls. Even then, she’d dreamed of growing up and having a fairytale wedding, and when they’d teased her and asked her which one she’d choose for her husband, she’d asked why she couldn’t choose them all.

How prophetic that now seemed. As, when she’d approached graduation from high school, two of the McAfee men had suddenly let her know of their individual interest.

Oh, she’d been flattered. And thrilled. Until the moment she’d realized she really would have to choose. Then she’d been filled with dread, because she didn’t want to hurt any of them, and she didn’t know how she could favor one over the other, especially when she was also interested in the third.

Angelina shook her head to rid herself of the painful memories and entered with trepidation, wondering what her welcome would be like once the brothers returned home. The last time she’d been here, in this room, she’d been led through it by a hard hand clamped around her upper arm. She’d been escorted crying and half-dressed back to her room off the kitchen, and then her door closed in her face.

The next morning, she’d been taken by the same hard-faced man through the back door to his Expedition parked beside the porch. The chill in the morning air not nearly as cold as his final goodbye at the Dallas airport.

She’d been eighteen, and the only place she’d ever called home was her home no more.

Angelina took a deep breath and stepped farther into the room. She set her suitcase on the floor beside her and tilted her head to listen for any sounds of movement in the house. Her mother had said the MacAfee boys were at an auction in San Angelo, and that she’d have the place to herself for the weekend, to acclimate and to shore up her nerves.

“Mama, you know why I can’t be there,” she’d said in the early morning hours, holding back her hair and squinting at the digital alarm beside her bed.

“I have no one else I can trust, mija. It’s been years. Things have changed. You have changed. No one will say a word about the past. Have I ever asked anything of you, Angel?”

Angelina’s shoulders had slumped. “I don’t know if I can go there,” she’d whispered.

“I know it will be hard, Angel. I know. But you must take my place and look after the boys while I am away. Do this for me, please?”

She’d taken a deep breath and gripped her cellphone harder. “How long? How long must I stay?”

“Your Aunt Cecilia is having a hysterectomy. I might be weeks.”

Angelina shook her head. Her stomach twisted in a knot, and sudden nausea made her skin clammy. “I’ll have to call my boss. Damn, he’ll probably let me go. I just started there.”

“Gracias, mija. You will see. You worry for nothing. The past is the past.”

But the past wasn’t so distant that she didn’t feel the same longing as she gazed around the room for dreams she’d shattered when she’d followed her heart to make the biggest mistake of her life. And she would never forget the shame.

After picking up her bag, she trudged toward the kitchen and beyond it, to the small bedroom that had been her own when she was a child and the world had seemed such a bright place, full of romantic possibilities.

But princes didn’t exist, at least not in her realm. And she wasn’t a starry-eyed chatterbox anymore, eager to sit on certain cowboys’ knees. She was a college graduate. Had her own job—maybe. Her own place. She’d made a life for herself. The fact she still felt pangs of loneliness late at night when she went to bed alone was something she’d eventually outgrow. Someday. And somewhere far from the MacAfee ranch.