I love cowboys. And I’m guessing you do, too. I’ve been writing them as long as I’ve been writing contemporary stories. I’ve written them through a couple of series—Lone Star Loversand Triple Horn Brand. And I’ve written them into short stories—quick bites of yummy Texans. Have you tried them out?
My love of cowboys comes from nine years of living in the Texas Hill Country with a working ranch butted up against my back yard. From my vantage it wasn’t uncommon to see cowboys on horseback or motorized mules, rounding up cattle. And every one of them was exactly how’d you picture them in your fantasies—lean and dusty in Wranglers, straw cowboy hats and boots. Now that those days are over, I can let my mind drift back—and imagine some very sexy goin’s on…
Big Brass Buckle — Caught in a sudden thunderstorm on a lonely stretch of Texas highway, I pull into a dingy little diner to wait out the rain, never dreaming the cowboy of my dreams would follow me inside. Now I have a couple of choices, play it coy and safe? Or go for the big brass buckle…
One Track Cowboy — After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion…
The Runaway Bride — After leaving him at the altar, a headstrong bride is captured by her cowboy and taught the pleasure of sensual discipline…
Comment for a chance to win one of the cowboy shorties here or one of the short stories on this carousel!
UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kristie!
* * * * *
Ménage can be kind of irresistible. To write or read. Why settle for one hot lover when you can have two or more? I enjoy the challenge of writing it—figuring out how to describe all those moving parts, trying to make the scene move quickly, and still let the reader know who’s saying/touching what. And I’ll admit it. When I’m writing it, I’m that character, closing my eyes and imagining every kiss.
I’ve written a few. 🙂 The book coming May 12th, Under a Blood Moon, features a foursome (a witch, two mermen and a sea draugr). To tide you over until then, take a peek inside Two Hot!
Comment for a chance to win Two Hot or one of the short stories on this carousel!
Do you like ménage stories? If so, what flavor of ménage do you prefer — m/m/f, m/f/m, f/m/f, f/f/m? More mm’s?
* * * * *
Click to Buy
Afraid to spoil their friendship, Emily had been reluctant to act on her attraction to the two sexy men next door. However, when she’s caught spying on them, the men decide a little punishment is in order…
Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason’s ice-cold beer.
Detail I shouldn’t have been able to note, given the fact I was thirty feet away.
As I lowered my nephew’s toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert’s backyard. A fact that probably never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo. Privacy fencing, which ran down to the pier that jutted into the lake, separated the row of houses where we lived. It was high enough the neighbors on either side of ours couldn’t see into their yard, but lucky me—I had the perfect view.
Upon discovering this, I had began a furtive surveillance. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.
We’d shared meals, drinks, late afternoon swims, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow the lawn or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me, along with the fear that I’d mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.
My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and from the very beginning, I was hooked. They’d become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister, rather than a woman one of them might desire.
And therein lay another problem. I’d resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I’d have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason’s muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert’s tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.
Lucky, lucky me. I licked the sweat gathering on my upper lip while this night one of the handsome men living next door tilted his bottle and took several long sips. The look of pure bliss that softened his otherwise stern features made my chest ache.
I watched the movement of Jason’s throat as he worked it down, imagining him sipping at my overheated flesh. My skin began to tingle. My nipples beaded, crowding uncomfortably against my lace bra. My thighs clenched as a delicious wash of arousal seeped to wet the crotch of my plain panties.
The sigh he emitted as he set the bottle on the table was echoed by my own painful groan. Watching either of them had never caused my heart to skip a beat like that hint of a moan sliding on the tail of Jason’s long exhalation.
Sure, it was hotter than hell out there. I too felt the effects of the enervating heat. Record temperatures had strained the region’s resources and planned service interruptions began that night. But something about that sigh felt…un-subtle, exaggerated, maybe even dramatic. And Jason was too straightforward a man for that.
I blotted sweat from my forehead, asking myself again, What am I doing?
Only this time, my peeping hadn’t been deliberate. I’d rushed home from work and showered quickly to beat the scheduled brown-out. Then I’d stripped to my underwear, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, hoping for a breeze to cool my skin. Sitting limply on the sill, I waited for the world to flicker into life again.
That’s when I’d noticed him, sitting in a lounge chair alone in the dark.
He wore his usual work “uniform”—khaki trousers, white shirt and a tie. Tonight, the tie hung loosened and askew, his collar opened beneath it.
Despite the lack of electricity, I could see it all. Moonlight silvered his dark hair and reflected bright as a beacon against the white shirt. The golden light from the large Citronella candle leant warmth to his skin and the amber bottle he held between his hands.
As always, he was lovely to watch, but tonight, his expression drew my attention more than his breath-stealing features. A sullen slanting of his brows, a bit of pout plumping his masculine lips, an edgy energy to his slight movements—he was either irritated or aroused.
Wanting an answer to the “either-or,” I watched. My forte is observation; my people-radar exquisitely tuned to body language and a voice’s tonal cues. My curiosity and my lust were caught. No way could I back away from my window now.
The bottle tapped the table as he set it aside. A long-fingered hand tugged the knot of his tie, dragging it from his neck.
When he began to undo the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, I settled deeper on the sill, leaning closer, but taking care to keep my pale body hidden behind the sheer curtain.
The edges of the shirt parted over a broad, nicely muscled chest. My gaze zeroed in on taut lean abs dusted with dense fur the same color as his close-cropped black hair that stretched nipple to nipple then ran along a thin dark line to slip beneath his zipper.
His hand stroked his chest, scratching through the hair, the faint crinkling sound causing my own chest to tighten, my nipples to surge.
A light sheen of sweat glimmered on his chest and belly. Again, my tongue swept my lips, tasting salt, and I imagined I lapped the dew right off his skin.
When a lazily roaming hand slid over his belly, I tensed, fascinated as he swept the flat plane. Would he be hard or desk-soft? His stomach looked firm. So, I enjoyed fantasizing that he was and touched my own stomach, following his path.
His hand slid down to the knot bulging behind his fly, and he cupped it. Squeezed.
My own hands itched to replace his and grew still, clenching against the fantasy of holding his burgeoning cock as it roused. My cheeks heated and my breaths shortened. No need to tease my own body into arousal, moisture already soaked my panties.
The buckle clanked open, and the belt slid sinuously from the loops as he lifted his hips and pulled it free. A flick of his thumb and the button at the waistband of his trousers opened. His zipper rasped as it slid down.
Dark fabric formed a vee-like shadow as his hand rooted beneath his waist, and then he slipped the long, gleaming column of his semi-aroused sex from the flap at the front of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around it.
I swallowed the liquid pooling in my mouth. I blinked to moisten eyes that had grown dry and scratchy as I stared, wide-eyed. My breaths grew ragged, a little choked, and I must have made a noise, because suddenly his head swung my way.
His gaze narrowed on my bedroom window.
Holding my breath, I froze, hoping his gaze couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
But a crooked smile slowly stretched his lips, and his hand tightened around himself and began to pump up and down the thickening rod. All the while, he stared at me.
Jason knew I watched but didn’t seem to mind. I let out a deep, trembling breath and continued to stare, my own body heating, growing increasingly aroused in tandem with his hardening cock.
His head turned away, and his hand dropped from his engorged cock. It fell against his belly with a soft, muffled thud. Heavy, hot, thick—I knew its girth would stretch my mouth.
Another sound intruded. The chime of my doorbell. I bit back a curse and drew away from the window, slung on my robe, then headed downstairs to the front door.
Robert stood on the stoop, a lazy grin on his face, a sweep of lank blonde hair covering one eye and two beers dangling from his fingers. He was shirtless. Low-riding, blue knee-length shorts encased slender hips and revealed long legs. His large feet were bare. “Thought you might like to join us.”
April was crazy-busy! My daughter was scheduled for surgery and I’ve been taking care of her, her house and kids for the tail-end of the month, but before that there were tons of April goodies! (Be sure to read to the bottom for contest details!)
There were new releases…
Three brand new short stories!
Free to Kindle Unlimited subscribers and just $0.99 for everyone else!
(Click on the covers to purchase!)
Johnny Blaze ~ A firefighter moonlighting as a male exotic dancer gives a librarian a birthday spanking she’ll never forget…
The Runaway Bride ~ After leaving him at the altar, a headstrong bride is captured by her cowboy and taught the pleasure of sensual discipline…
Tailgating at the Cedar Inn ~ Two construction workers come to the aid of one woman looking for a last taste of freedom…
One hot new box set!
SEVEN SINFUL STORIES
~The Second Collection~
Slip between the sheets with seven New York Times & USA Today bestselling authors in one anthology. These seven sizzling and sinful erotic stories are sure to burn up the pages!
~Available for a Limited Time~
FIND ME IN DARKNESS by Julie Kenner
A doomed woman. A dangerous and mysterious man. And an epic passion that cannot be denied…
BOND WITH ME by Anne Marsh
Fallen angel Brends Duranov offers Mischka Baran an unforgettable taste of sin and seduction when she visits his elite Moscow club, but she’s looking for her missing sister—and not an angel mate. But with a sadistic killer carving up his brethren, Brends is playing for keeps, hunting the one woman whose bloodline can end the mayhem, whose bond can restore his lost wings…and now he wants Mischka to bond with him.
PLANET MAIL by Kate Pearce
As far as job hazards go, Douglass Fraser didn’t think crash-landing on an alien planet and spending her recuperation being erotically pleasured by three gorgeous men was in the United Planetary Parcel Service’s courier handbook. There certainly wasn’t a section on what to do when a very sexy king wants you to have his baby and save his world.
UNMASQUED by Colette Gale
When not-as-proper-as-one-would-think Victorian woman Jane Clemons convinces her father to take her on a jungle expedition, her only goal is to find her lover, Jonathan, who disappeared three years earlier. But shortly after their party arrives in Madagascar, Jane finds herself enthralled not only by the freedom and beauty of the lush jungle, but a reclusive wild man who seems to be fascinated by her….
CORPORATE AFFAIRS by Nana Malone
Powerhouse project manager, Kyra Benson, loves her new job. If only her domineering boss wasn’t the bane of her existence & a boon to her fantasies. X2 Games CEO, Bryan Ross, has devoted his life to his company. The last thing he needs is to get sidetracked by a woman who thinks she knows more about his business than he does. Can the two adversaries negotiate a truce & find love?
ONE LAST NIGHT by Caridad Pineiro
An act of compassion leads to unexpected pleasure . . .
Thrown together, Trevor and Maggie can’t ignore the sexual heat between them. As they satisfy one set of needs, another slowly develops as passion breathes life into other emotions. Will Trevor and Maggie’s one last night together possibly lead to many other nights in the future?
WARLORD’S DESTINY by Delilah Devlin
Mora has no illusions she’s anything other than the sacrificial lamb to ensure peace between her peace-loving planet and the warlike world that demands a royal union with one of their own. However, when she meets the rugged warlord who will be her husband, she decides in that moment to win his heart—she’ll settle for nothing less.
What’s coming in May?
Two more sexy shorties! Details coming later!
And on May 12th, the sequel to Once in a Blue Moon releases! Have you pre-ordered your copy!?
I think writers of all genres get asked this from time to time and, if one writes erotica, the question sometimes comes with an implied ‘What sort of weird/depraved/ plain odd/ person reads these?’
I have two utterly and totally true stories I love to tell in reply.
First one was shortly after my very first erotic short story was published in Best Women’s Erotic 2000. (Yes, we are going back a bit.) I was at some corporate function or other – before the dh retired I went to quite a few as I am a really nice wife. Anyway I was talking to a group of similarly really nice wives, when a young woman, I’d only just met said, ‘I understand you write erotica.’ Now, all I knew about her (other than that she was also a company wife) was she’d once been a Baptist missionary. So, bracing myself for some sort of lecture or snide look, I replied in the affirmative, and waited. She asked the title of the anthology. I told her, keeping my voice as neutral as I could but biding my time to pick up the cudgels, if necessary. Then, to my astonishment, she went on the tell me how, by the time they got their three small children to bed, she and her dh were exhausted and to liven things, they used to read each other erotica to ignite the spark.
After I closed my mouth, I couldn’t help myself smiling and almost hugged her. I think I offered to send her a signed copy.
Second story was some years on. I was at a group book signing organized by my publisher in a Borders in Akron. (The fact it was a Borders rather dates this too.) This lovely, old lady came up to the table and picked up a copy of Power Exchange. Now, when I say ‘old’ lady I don’t mean someone in her 60s. Her hair was totally white, she was slender but had the no waist no hips, body shape some really old women have and in addition, her skin had that translucent quality I associate with extreme old age. At a guess, she was in her mid-eighties if not older. And there she was with a copy of Power Exchange in her hand and all I could think was ‘Dear Heaven! If she reads that, the poor old soul will have heart failure.’
As tactfully as I could, I said, “That’s BDSM erotica.” She gave me the most gloriously, wicked smile and said. “I know dear, it’s it best, isn’t it? I love your books and my online friends have been saying I must get this one. “ She went on to tell me she’d been a widow for 20 years and never had been one to troll the bars looking for men but, with a nice, sexy read and her vibrator, she was a very contented and satisfied woman.
She went down the table, bought an armload of books and went off. I decided I wanted to be like her when I grew up.
So, for whom do I write? I write for twenty-something Baptist missionaries who are worn out after running after preschoolers all day but still love and desire their husbands, and I write for eighty or ninety something widows who still feel the need.
When Robert speaks, in his slow, deep, ‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ voice, he gets my undivided attention. Chicken with Holy Basil can’t compete.
This was our wedding anniversary and I expected a surprise. But what? A bright, red butt plug with a green ribbon round the base? A pale-as-the-inside-of-an-oystershell, vibrating egg? Quilted, purple silk restraints? That had covered Christmas and Easter and my birthday.
Our first wedding anniversary could be anything.
He set a black, velvet jewelers box on the table. Had Robert turned conventional? Buying me a string of pearls or perhaps an add a bead necklace. Possible but highly improbable.
He nudged the box closer to my wine glass. “Open it.”
I had it opened just enough to glimpse the white satin lining in the lid, when our waiter reappeared. All he wanted was reassurance our meal was perfect but I almost slammed the lid on my finger. Maybe it was matinee length pearls but you can’t be too cautious in public. Not when you’re married to Robert Kelly.
Checking to make sure no solicitous waiter or maitre d’ loitered, I snapped open the velvet lid. It was pearls alright but I’d never wear these to the opera – I hoped.
Nestling against the velvet padding and almost reflected in the gleaming satin lining of the lid, were six, large pearls: strung on a fine twisted cord, one end sporting a polished metal ring, plenty big enough for hooking and tugging with a strong middle finger. Read the rest of this entry »
UPDATE: The winner of the free story is…Donamuree Holmes!
* * * * *
I’m writing like my hair’s on fire today—head down, fingers a-flyin’! Hope you have a more restful Saturday! 🙂
Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Triple Horn Brand series! Here’s the question…
If you could acquire any fictional item for realz, what would you want and why?
Not so easy right? Do you choose Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility so you can stalk your favorite movie star without being detected? (I have no clue why that popped into my mind first—cough, Chris Hemsworth naked in the bath!) Or how about Sherlock Holmes’ pipe? (I want whatever he was smoking!) And there you go. Have fun!
And just a reminder, I do have a sexy, new story out there right now…
Jackson Lowry cussed softly when he spotted the blue lights spinning at the roadblock just ahead. Too late to turn back now. He’d only draw more attention.
Squaring his jaw, he rolled down his window and forced a polite smile as he peered into the darkness at the sheriff’s deputy checking IDs with a flashlight.
As soon as the deputy waved the car in front of him to move along and turned to watch the black pickup roll forward, Jackson’s tension eased a fraction.
Maynard Colby’s expression turned from crisply professional to worried in a second, as soon as he recognized Jackson. “Dammit, Jackson, where have you been?”
“Around. Why?”
A soft moan sounded beside him, and Jackson reached surreptitiously beside him to tap the tarp covering his precious load.
“You didn’t hear?” At Jackson’s vague expression, Maynard stepped onto the truck rail and leaned toward Jackson. “It’s Sammi Jo. Her car was found in Shooter’s parking lot, the door wide open. No one’s seen her. Looks like she’s been snatched.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “How serious is this gettin’?”
“It’s only been a couple of hours, but Sammi Jo’s daddy is buckin’ to get the sheriff to call in the FBI, the CIA, the ATF—and whatever other agency his money can buy to find her. I tried callin’ you, but your phone kept goin’ to voicemail. After the way things went down at the weddin’ last Sunday, I don’t blame you a bit for layin’ low, but I thought you’d wanna know.”
Another sound, this time a snort, sounded beside him.
Maynard’s gaze cut to the dirty tarp folded over a moving bundle on the floor of the cab. A ruddy eyebrow shot up. “What’s goin’ on, Jackson?”
Jackson rolled his eyes then pulled up the corner of the tarp to reveal a bound and gagged Sammi Jo whose eyes glittered furiously back at both men.
Maynard barked a laugh then tightened his lips. “This time you’ve gone and done it, boy. This is seriously fucked up.” He laughed again, then tipped his hat to Sammi Jo. “No disrespect meant, missy.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “Don’t s’pose you can forget about this?”
Maynard’s gaze shot to Sammi Jo again, raked her once as though ensuring she didn’t look to be in any real danger, then tipped back his cowboy hat. “Tell ya what. I’ll put a bug in the sheriff’s ear, but she better come walkin’ through the po-lice house doors come Monday mornin’.”
“Not a word to her daddy?”
One corner of Maynard’s mouth crooked up. “Man’s already caused enough problems. Deserves to cool his heels a couple o’ days. Don’t do nothin’ I’ll have to arrest you for.”
With a nod, Jackson rolled up the window and pulled past the barricade. In his side mirror, he watched as Maynard crossed to the other deputy’s car and both men bent over laughing.
“See that, Sammi Jo?” he murmured, not expecting an answer because he’d made double-damn sure he’d tied some serious knots and gagged her pretty mouth. “I’m not the only one who thinks you need a good paddlin’.”
*~*~*~*~*
If you’d like to check out more of my recent short story releases…
I’ll admit it. I’m shallow. Show me warm colors and a pretty man holding a whip and wearing a cowboy hat, and I melt like butter. So when I found this photo, I had to have it for the cover of the short story I’m releasing this coming Friday (or sooner, depending on Amazon—I’ll let you know).
I know what The Runaway Bride is all about, but I’d love to hear what story this picture tells you. Doesn’t have to be a story. It can be one scene. It can be a line of whatever she’s telling him as he gives her a hard or hot stare. It’s your story. Have fun.
And if you decide to play, there’s a reward—for one lucky person, anyway. I’ll give the winner a free copy of The Runaway Bride.
UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Galina Sulaiman!
* * * * *
My day will be full of diapers and Spongebob today! I’ll have my feet propped up on the ottoman and my laptop on my knees. But it will be flung aside a dozen times as I chase down the 19-month-old—she tends to put things in her mouth that don’t belong there. Her favorite “food” right now is her Honest Company diapers. At least she’s no longer eating her crib—we traded the wood one for an industrial metal crib. 😯
Anyways, my day will be exhausting. So I thought about what to do for a blog today, and I’ve got nada. It’s 6:10 AM, and there is no inspiration. Yes, I have new releases to talk about, and if you want to know about them, just click on the covers below, but for right now, I’ll ask a simple question and offer you a bribe to answer it. 🙂
Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Delta Heat series! Here’s the question…
Which month of the year has the best aromas?
LOL. Easy right? If you love the scents of honeysuckle and pina colada tanning lotion, you might love July. Love the smell of roasting turkey…? You get the drift.
And just a reminder, I do have two sexy, fun-as-hell stories out there right now…
Here’s a short excerpt from Johnny Blaze!
Johnny Blaze stood, framed by the curtain, his fireman’s hat tipped low in front, the stage lights gleaming on the shiny top and shadowing his features. His tanned chest and ripped abs were bare except for red suspenders–thankfully, attached to yellow turnout pants. His large feet were encased by black boots. He raised a finger and curled it–twice.
I shook my head, glancing behind me to find the stairs, but gentle pressure on my shoulders forced me to my knees.
“Gotta crawl, Bridget,” biker dude drawled. “All the way on your knees.”
He knew my name? Kneeling, I cut him a quick glance. “I’m in a skirt.”
His smile gleamed white against his darkly tanned face. “I know. Sweet how that worked out.” Read the rest of this entry »
First one was shortly after my very first erotic short story was published in Best Women’s Erotic 2000. (Yes, we are going back a bit.) I was at some corporate function or other – before the dh retired I went to quite a few as I am a really nice wife. Anyway I was talking to a group of similarly really nice wives, when a young woman, I’d only just met said, ‘I understand you write erotica.’ Now, all I knew about her (other than that she was also a company wife) was she’d once been a Baptist missionary. So, bracing myself for some sort of lecture or snide look, I replied in the affirmative, and waited. She asked the title of the anthology. I told her, keeping my voice as neutral as I could but biding my time to pick up the cudgels, if necessary. Then, to my astonishment, she went on the tell me how, by the time they got their three small children to bed, she and her dh were exhausted and to liven things, they used to read each other erotica to ignite the spark.
