I know you wanted the old Spice Girls song in your head first thing this morning! In fact, the video’s at the bottom of this page in case you really, really want a quick SG-fix. 🙂
Four of my most recent stepbrother shorties have shot straight to #1 on the short read list on Amazon. But I’m not certain what the attraction is. Do readers love the short, inexpensive (just $0.99) format, the taboo stepbrother angle, or the menage theme? Or all three?
Readers have been asking me for more of Sara and Hunter’s story in With His SEAL Team, in particular. And I do plan a sequel, or maybe more, of stories featuring those two and their extended, sexy SEAL family. Sara still has to find a job she likes and that doesn’t make Hunter crazy. And what about Harley and his rehabilitation?
So, I have these questions. And because I like more than anything in the world to please my readers, I’m asking you what you really, really want. Take this poll. You can choose up to four different answers. If you don’t see an answer you like, write your preference in the comments.
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Contest
Win a free shorty from my short story webpage by simply leaving a comment. You can either tell me the kind of story you want most or tell me which of my stepbrother stories you’ve liked the most. I’ll choose three winners!
And thanks to those of you who bought my two latest releases! It’s much appreciated. And I am hearing loud and clear that y’all want sequels for With His SEAL Team! A couple of you are hoping Harley comes into the picture, too! Naughty girls! If you haven’t picked up a copy of either SEAL story yet, just click on the covers…
The Question
When is it too many? In a menage, I mean. I’ve written menage scenes with as many as 6 people in a very large bed, although most often it’s three or four. And I don’t seem to have a problem keeping all those moving parts connected to the right player. So choreography isn’t the issue. 🙂 So, you tell me.
What is your favorite number?
One lucky commenter will get a small Amazon gift card! Don’t be shy!
UPDATE: The three winners are…Galina Sulaiman, Jen B., and Pansy Petal!
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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…
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!
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.
UPDATE: The winner is Emily K!
See comments for instructions!
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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!
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’m busy today getting the last Planet Desire story ready to send out—in between dropping off and picking up kids for their mother who has other obligations today. So, while I’m diving deep into pirates-turned-colonists, how about you let me know what you’d like to see next so far as shorties are concerned…
You can choose up to 4! And if you have more suggestions for titles, leave them in the comments!
Which Stepbrothers Stepping Out title interests you most?
With His SEAL Team (20%, 25 Votes)
With His Pack (paranormal) (19%, 23 Votes)
With His Wranglers (12%, 15 Votes)
With His Pride (paranormal) (11%, 14 Votes)
With His Warriors (historical) (10%, 13 Votes)
With His Biker Club (8%, 10 Votes)
With His Roommate (6%, 8 Votes)
With His Starship Crew (sci-fi) (6%, 8 Votes)
With His Mistress (6%, 8 Votes)
Total Voters: 47
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And in case you haven’t already sampled my previous SSO stories…click on the covers!
So, you know from the title alone that this story’s gonna be hot, right? I had fun brainstorming the series name–Stepbrothers Stepping Out. I knew I wanted to combine not one, but two, taboo themes—Step-siblings and Ménage. I had thought I was out of step scenarios, but then you all came up with a treasure trove of ideas for me to continue with. But I think after I write one more, I’ll take a break. I want to do several step-daddy fantasies too, but have yet to find that perfect series title. Do y’all have any suggestions? 🙂
Shorties are never going to make me rich and famous, but I enjoy writing them so much, I can’t stop. Thank goodness, y’all seem to enjoy reading the bite-sized goodies too! Remember, there are four other step-stories. And I bet you can’t stop at just one…
Answer for your chance to win your pick from among the many short stories I’ve published. I will pick three winners! (Sorry, not this stepbrother story!) You can check out the list here: Short Stories
Which sport’s players do you find the sexiest? Football, soccer, basketball…?
When a college student changes her appearance and follows her brother and his teammates to Spring Break in Mexico, she’s ready for adventure… It’s game on!
Moisture spilled into the crotch of my panties. I could have him. I could have them all. The ugly sister. The girl they thought only good enough to do their laundry or their homework. I could be the thing they’d fantasized over for weeks. And I was dying to know what exactly they’d dreamed of doing.
Who was I kidding? My decision had been made the minute I’d decided to follow them to Cabo. “Empty the ice bucket. I want all the phones inside it.”
Indrawn breaths sounded all around. Then the guys sprang eagerly into action, doing as I had asked, filling the bucket then walking toward Harry and me. He dropped his hands and stood back, his gaze sliding away as the guys gave me the bucket. I counted the phones, then added my own, making sure they understood how seriously I was taking their precautions.
They had plans. Likely expected to take control and move me around like a doll to be shared. I had other ideas about how this should go down. Starting now.
I balled my fists and placed them on my hips, then gave them a steady stare, touching on each of their faces. Harry’s expression was impossible to read, shuttered, his blue eyes narrowed. Mal’s darkly furred chest was rising and falling swiftly; his cock was already pressing against the front of his trunks. Sam stood, arms akimbo, a cocky grin stretching his lovely mouth. And Karo looked so fierce more moisture wet my folds.
“I’d like to see what I’ll be playing with,” I said softly.
They all quickly reached for their waistbands—all except Harry, whose expression was turning darker by the minute. He was the one who’d sealed the deal. Shouldn’t he be happier?
“Wait,” I blurted.
They halted. Mal groaned.
“Do you have condoms? Foam?”
“A fucking case,” Sam said. “No foam.”
A case? Seriously?
Sam shrugged. “Four guys, five days… We had to be prepared.”
But a case? I shook my head. “All right. You can continue.”
Shorts and trunks dropped to their feet, Harry’s a little more slowly. Not a one of them wore underwear. All their cocks were erect, rising upward. A creamy ball of pre-ejaculate sat on the tip of Mal’s nearly purple cock.
My heart galloped, and I sucked in a deep breath, and then another to calm myself.
“What about you?” Harry said, raising his chin.
“Guess that’s only fair.” Oh fuck! It was time to commit. I could turn tail and run, or I could really do this. Mary the doormat would have quivered in her Converse tennis shoes. Instead, I turned to give Harry my back. “Unzip me.”
His hands moved my hair forward. The zipper eased. I stepped away to face them, holding the fabric against my chest, and then slowly pushed it downward.
Every gaze went right to my breasts. All breathing ceased. I pushed the dress past my hips and let it puddle around my feet. Then I tucked my thumbs into the thin band of elastic riding my hips and shoved my panties down. When I was as nude as they were, I held still, letting them look.
Mal was the first to shake himself from his stupor. He took a step forward, but I wagged a finger. He fell back in line.
I walked to Karo, standing at one end of their lineup. I reached out a hand, surprised it wasn’t shaking, and smoothed it over his chest. His pecs tensed beneath my touch. I glided my fingers lower then wrapped them around his huge, blunt cock.
He eased his feet apart and pulsed his hips. I let him glide his cock through my fingers then dropped my hand and moved down the line.
Sam sucked in a breath that tightened his already ripped abdomen. I gave him a similar caress, this time boldly tugging on his dick.
He lifted on his toes to follow the motion then gave a little moan when I moved away.
The head of Mal’s cock was well-lubricated. I stood in front of him and grasped him with both hands, one cuddling his balls, the other stroking his cock. When I moved my hand upward, I rubbed my thumb in the creamy moisture, smearing it over the cap.
I aimed a glance at Harry whose gaze was smoky. “I think I need more assurances,” I said softly.
“What do you want?”
“We need a secret. One you won’t want breathed to anyone outside this room.”
His gaze hardened. “What do you want?” he repeated, his voice harsher.
I glanced sideways at Sam. “I want you to blow Mal.”
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