Thursday, 20 July 2017

It's practically here! Another filthy, sexy excerpt from Lust Abroad. Go pre-order your copy NOW only 4cents!

Here is my contribution to the set...

Piper Valentine knows all too well that life is short. Off to Peru to heal after a grievous loss, she finds more than solace in the hot, charismatic travel journalist sitting across from her on the airplane. Derrick King’s had a brush with death, too, but he has no idea that he’ll face it again — and again — after giving in to his instant attraction to Piper. Their journey to the top of the world, filled with parties, humor, and fun, is turned topsy-turvy as they’re pursued by mysterious gunmen.
Determined to reach Machu Picchu and fulfill her promise to her dead husband, Piper finds that having Derrick along makes her feel safer, even as his lust for her endangers her heart. She’s never found another man so sensual, and with danger on their trail, they keep ending up in each other’s arms. Derrick’s a man with needs — and secrets. Will Piper find strength in surrender? And can Derrick find a way to believe in a future — for both of them?


I felt his cock prod the apex of my thighs, and I spread my legs wider for him, welcoming him home. He slid in with ease, my pussy clenching around him, reveling in the feeling of being full once again.
He started to hammer into me, splitting me open, while his pelvic bone rocked against my clit in an oh so wonderful way.
“Don’t fucking do that again!” He said with a snarl, rearing up and pulling out, only to slam back in, hitting my cervix and making me hiss in pain in the process.  Wait. Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to release the beast? And yet here he was, as feral as they come and fixing to fuck or fight. I’m not saying I didn’t like it; this just hadn’t been the plan. I opened my mouth to say something, but he changed the angle, and all I could do was gasp from the sudden rush of pleasure.
He glared down at me. “Don’t be reckless!”
More hammering, more pleasure. He hit my cervix again, more pain. Yes. Oh God. Yes. Pain, pleasure, it all felt so good. It all made me feel so alive, so craved. He was punishing me for my behavior in the best way possible, making my body hum, making me scream for him and plead for forgiveness, for release.
He growled. “Say it! Say you’ll never put your life in danger like that again. Say it!”
I nodded and swallowed, our eyes suddenly locking, blue to gray. So much emotion poured out of him that I found myself verklempt and unable to speak. So, I just nodded again and again and again, until I felt like my head was going to fall off.
“I need to hear you say it, Piper!” His tone was thick with longing and need, only it wasn’t just the need to hear me come; there was a deeper need, a darker need.
“Yes,” I finally squeaked. “I promise never to do anything reckless like that again.”
“Good!” And then he picked up speed and vigor and fucked me until tears streamed down my cheeks and I’m pretty sure I met God.

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Dreams are the perfect shelter for our fantasies... At the Heart of the Stone with Roxanne D. Howard

Dreams are the perfect shelter for our fantasies, safe havens to step inside without changing our daily lives. For Lark Braithwaite, all that is about to change. During the last six months, Lark has dreamt of a mysterious Irish lover who knows what she wants and gives her exactly what she needs. In her waking life in busy London, things aren’t as ideal, as her long-term relationship with Charles, her controlling fiancé, has hit a dry spell.

When Lark is called home to Oregon for her father’s funeral right in the middle of a high-stakes corporate merger, she heads back to face the demons from her past. What she doesn’t expect is to meet her dream lover in the flesh. Niall O’Hagan steps straight out of her fantasies and right into her life, and the powerful connection they share rocks her foundation. Although she's dealing with the bitterness of being betrayed by Charles and his jealousy, Niall soon stirs Lark’s awareness of the superficiality of her existence and reawakens not only her sexuality, but her soul.


The blindfold was tied on and made of soft black material that caressed her skin. Though she knew it was light out, the mask bathed her in darkness. Still, she was aware of his touch, his heated, pulling kisses that moved away from her lips and trailed down her jaw to her throat, over her collarbone, toward her breasts.

A tug pulled her hoodie up a little, and he slowly zipped it open, yanking the front of her T-shirt down, her bra right along with it. She couldn’t see anything, but knew it was him. Her dream lover.

She expected him to latch on to her nipple, but he didn’t. He caressed it instead, flicking his fingernail along the sensitive bud, marking a trail of pebbling, tantalizing kisses around the entire circumference of her right breast. He laved the sensitive underside with his warm tongue, making her whimper, while his hand came up to fondle her left breast.

Lark was aware they were both lying on the porch swing, but he distracted her by seizing her nipple with his teeth.

She groaned. He chuckled, the vibrations reverberating through her whole body. She clutched him tighter. Lark wanted to pull off the blindfold, but he had her pinned down. He continued his ministrations, kissing his way over her bared, flat stomach, across her hip bone, and closer to his ultimate goal. She covered his hand at her hip with hers and grasped it. She was a sweaty mess from her run, but it seemed like he was taking in everything about her.

“Wait,” she said. “I-I can’t see you. I want to. Take this off.”

“I’m here,” he assured her, crawling back up over her body.

Knuckles brushed softly down her cheek, and she could feel his gaze on her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Lark gave up fighting her blindness and self-lamentations as his lips pressed against her own. “Mmm, yes,” she moaned between kisses. “Kiss me, God, yes. I don’t want to feel anything anymore but you.” There was something about the darkness that emboldened her. She felt his chest and encountered the lapels of a jacket of some sort. She yanked him all the way down, moaning and sucking his lower lip between her teeth.

In an instant, the full weight of his body came down upon her, and his kisses changed from having been demanding and passionate to the complete polar opposite.

It was as if he was timid and reluctant, yet the more she gave to him—putting her arm around his neck and releasing the fury of her frustrations out on him—the more he began to respond. Tentative at first, with a hint of reluctance he’d never shown before. What was this? A cool breeze blew past her face, and a sense of déjà vu of the night before overtook her.
* * * *

If the kiss had stayed careful and guarded, she might have continued to question it. But the blindfold disappeared, and she realized she’d fallen asleep. Her eyes flew open, and he was there. Oh my God. He was there! Heated eyes watched her. Rakish dark hair fell over his forehead as he breathed hard, and the morning sun lit up the world behind him. She took a deep, shuddering breath to speak, but his hands moved to cup her face. He held still and closed his eyes as his lips took her mouth. Right then and there, it was very clear that this was real. That was the weight of a real man on top of her, clothed, and smelling citrusy and clean. What in the hell is happening here?

How did he get here? He was only her dream lover.

Or was he?

Confused beyond all comprehension, Lark didn’t have any time to contemplate what was really going on. His lips delivered a breath-stealing, soul-shattering kiss, and then they were all over each other. This, ah, this she knew. Lark hooked her ankle over his and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to rid him of his jacket and draw him closer. She clenched her hand in his hair as he devoured her mouth. He tasted the same as her dream lover, and she put her tongue in his mouth to savor more of that tangy sweetness.

They were both making noises they never had in her dreams, little breathy gasps and blasts of air as their mouths met and separated as they sought new angles and depths to their passion.

He made a disgruntled sound as he tried to get more comfortable in the cradle of her hips over the hindrance of clothes, and she realized she really wasn’t dreaming anymore. He nibbled on her lower lip as she opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but then she was carried away in the undercurrent of his large, warm hands, which were caressing the skin of her stomach beneath her hoodie and T-shirt. She continued to accept his kisses but pawed down her still zipped-up sweat jacket. Okay, so she was still clothed. He was rock hard against her, and he ground his hips into her, a disbelieving grunt escaping his lips. Lark rolled her eyes back, shivering at the jolt that went through her.

“Wh— Mmm. Whoa. Stop!” She finally managed to say against his mouth. She furrowed her eyebrows and scrutinized him as he breathed in and out, bracing himself on the weight of his hands above her, his bright green eyes bearing into hers. His face was the face of her dreams—the sensual, bowed lips and cleft chin, the built body, and the thick hair. His hair… She blinked. It was cut at the nape and styled for a day at work. She glanced down at what he was wearing.

“Um, why are you wearing a suit and tie this time?” she asked, squinting against the sunlight. Please, God, let this be a dream. He moved his head, putting her in shade.

This time?” He lifted an eyebrow, perplexed. “You’ll have to forgive me, lass, but I’ve no idea what the devil you’re talking about.” He maneuvered himself off her and sat upright at the end of the swing.

She tucked her feet against her and sat up, unable to do anything more than blink at him in utter disbelief.

“I was coming up to knock on the door when I saw you lying here, and given how you were tossing and the noises you were making, it looked like maybe you were having some sort of a seizure.”

He seemed contrite, and he turned his head as he licked his lips, full and abused from her kisses. Something close to mortification bloomed inside her.

“Erm, you…begged me to kiss you, and then you yanked me down. One thing led to another and, well, that was pretty much the way of it. I am only human, though I know that’s no excuse.” He swallowed and stared at her, his Adam’s apple moving in his throat. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have gone down when you pulled me, but it was strange—like you knew me or something.”

Lark leaned forward and rubbed her eyes. This couldn’t be real. She was hallucinating. She had to be. When she opened her eyes she’d see a man in his fifties with a receding hairline, glasses, and a beer gut. She reopened her eyes, and there he was: The full package. In the flesh. There was an air of intelligence in the way his eyes scrutinized her. She sat up and planted her feet on the porch, then put a hand to her head. The vertigo from earlier returned. “No, I’m sorry. I was dreaming…”

“Excuse me for saying so, but it must’ve been one hell of a dream.”

Lark nodded and tried not to black out as a wave of dizziness came over her.

“You look like you’re dehydrated. Hold on.”

The lilt of his familiar Irish accent soothed her like warm milk. He stood and walked over to a black laptop case propped near the front door that had several thick manila folders sticking out of its open center, one of which she could see said BRAITHWAITE in large, capital letters on an index label. He crouched down and unzipped the front pocket, extracting an unopened plastic water bottle.

“Here,” he said, unscrewing it and holding it out to her.

“Thanks.” She accepted the bottle and took a long sip of the cool water. It almost instantly revived her. She wiped a little water off the corner of her mouth with the top of her knuckle as he watched her. She offered it back to him, but he shook his head and reclaimed his seat next to her.

“Keep it. Drink.”

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes and took several large gulps, the cool liquid a balm to her throat.

“My name’s Niall O’Hagan.”

His voice was deep and pleasant. It sounded different, lighter than the sultry bedroom voice she was used to from her dreams.

“I’m the Braithwaites’ attorney.”

Lark paused in midsip and lowered the bottle in her hands. “You—no.” She laughed, glancing at him.

His mouth lifted at the corners, as if it were dawning on him he was the butt of a joke he wasn’t aware of. “I…what?”

Oh, the irony of dreaming about her father’s lawyer this whole time. Oh my God. She started giggling. This was it; she was officially losing it. She got up and walked over to the top step of the porch, put a hand over her face, and plunked herself down. “I am so messed up.”

A sudden, unwanted flash of Gemma saying “darlin’” to Charles yesterday surfaced, and tears stung her eyes. She went silent and willed them not to fall. It was no use.

After a moment, Niall sat down on the step beside her. “I’d offer you a drink, but I quit ten years ago.”

Lark laughed, despite the tears. “An Irish attorney who doesn’t like Guinness is like an Englishman who doesn’t like fish and chips or something.”

“I know; shameful,” he said with mock contrition. “Don’t hold it against me. I’m doing the world a favor. Trust me. I was a horrible drunk. Seriously, though, are you okay, miss?”

Lark scoffed and gesticulated with her hands to the sky. “It’s Lark. And what a loaded question of the day.” She couldn’t look at him, not after what happened. She clenched the edge of the step on either side of her and stared out at the trees.

“Well, considering we’ve already gone to second base, we might as well be open with each other. Forgive me if I’m candid, but it seems you were having an alleged, eh, intense dream, and you woke up and believed I was him. Is that right?”

Horror dawned on her at what she’d done, and her jaw dropped. “No!” Yes. She glanced at him, and his knowing expression said he knew that was exactly what happened.

“I see,” he said, his tone careful but persistent. “Then why did you kiss me like that?”

“I-I don’t have to answer that.” She lifted her chin with defiance.

He scooted closer to her. “No, you don’t. But I wish you would.”

She scratched her head in frustration and jumped up, moving toward the door.

“I’m sorry to embarrass you,” he said, and she paused with her hand halfway to the doorbell. “I’m decent. I would never— I never meant to take advantage of you at all, please know that. When you kissed me like that, so familiar, I…”

It occurred to her Niall was being a lot more of a gentleman about the whole thing than most men would be, given how horrid the situation was. And she, meanwhile, was being a total bitch. And the poor guy had no clue as to why.

He met her in two quick strides, and his proximity alarmed her. They’d never both been standing in any of her dreams. He was at least a few inches over six feet, well built with wide shoulders and a lithe, muscular frame to complement the height.

He assessed her as well, and his eyes widened with realization. “Wait. Lark? Rick’s daughter? But you’re so little,” he said, surprised. “From the pictures, I assumed you’d be, erm—”

“Fatter?” she asked, glad she was at least back on sure ground. She could always toss jokes around about her heavy days. “It’s okay. You can go ahead and say it. I’ve lost a lot of weight.”

Niall put a hand to the back of his neck. His eyebrows rose. “I think ‘a lot’ is an understatement. Good on you! My mam struggled with her weight too; I know from growing up with her how hard it is to lose it. Well, you look amazing. Wow.”

He rolled his eyes at himself and glanced away. The bizarreness of seeing him act misplaced and common, and not at all like a sex panther, was messing with her.

“I’m sorry.” He laughed. “I sound like an idiot. Listen, I hope you don’t think I’m some leering wanker. This is…awkward.”

“You can say that again,” she murmured with a small smile, wondering what he would say if she told him she’d been having erotic dreams of him every night for the last six months. It was bad enough she’d just made out with the guy.

She held out her hand but didn’t make eye contact. “So listen, how about we forget it ever happened, okay? I’m Lark Braithwaite. I flew in a couple of days ago from London.”

He took her hand and closed his long fingers over hers. “Niall O’Hagan. Pleasure.” He stepped a little closer. “And I’m all for a clean slate, but forgetting’s not on my agenda, lass. I’m taking that one to the grave. Hands down the best snog I’ve ever had in my life. Client’s daughter or no, you can’t take it back.”

About Roxanne D. Howard
Roxanne D. Howard is a U.S. Army veteran who has a bachelor's degree in Psychology and English. She loves to read poetry, classical literature, and Stephen King. Also, she is an avid Star Wars fan, musical theater nut, and marine biology geek. Roxanne resides in the western U.S., and when she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and children. Roxanne loves to hear from her readers, and encourages you to contact her via her website and social media.

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Monday, 17 July 2017

A dirty little excerpt to tempt you. Only 2 weeks to go. Preorder 25 sexy tropical summer reads for less than $1 NOW!

Here is my contribution to the set...

Piper Valentine knows all too well that life is short. Off to Peru to heal after a grievous loss, she finds more than solace in the hot, charismatic travel journalist sitting across from her on the airplane. Derrick King’s had a brush with death, too, but he has no idea that he’ll face it again — and again — after giving in to his instant attraction to Piper. Their journey to the top of the world, filled with parties, humor, and fun, is turned topsy-turvy as they’re pursued by mysterious gunmen.
Determined to reach Machu Picchu and fulfill her promise to her dead husband, Piper finds that having Derrick along makes her feel safer, even as his lust for her endangers her heart. She’s never found another man so sensual, and with danger on their trail, they keep ending up in each other’s arms. Derrick’s a man with needs — and secrets. Will Piper find strength in surrender? And can Derrick find a way to believe in a future — for both of them?


We said a hasty and giggly goodbye to our roommates, stumbling down the stairs with our arms looped around one another. He fished for the keys in his pants and unlocked the door, and then before the door had even clicked shut, I was being stripped bare and forced backward towards the shower.
“Shower.”  Need dark and driven in his gruff tone. And then he reached behind me and turned on the tap. I watched him as he peeled off his shorts, a beautiful erection springing to life and slapping against his taut stomach. I lunged for it.
His hands fell to my shoulders. “Uh-uh, greedy girl. Me first.” He helped me over the ledge and molded my body the way he wanted it. I was plastered up against the side of the shower wall, with one leg propped up on the ledge, my core spread open for him, wanton and begging. Water thrummed down all around us, beading on his lashes and in his thick and luscious hair. Was it wrong that all I wanted to do at that moment was thread my hands through it and pull his face into my pussy? I resisted the urge but wasn’t ruling it out for next time.
“Ah,” he sighed, hunkering down onto his knees. “Me first.” But then his eyes flicked up to mine. “I’m going to eat the fuck out of you.” Holy mother of God. He dove into my pussy face-first, with the passion and vigor of an insatiable beast, tongue laving at my folds, sucking and nipping, swirling and twisting, plunging and plundering my craving cleft until I was frantically bucking into his face. Wild for an orgasm and ready and willing to do anything to get it. A curious finger probed my folds and slipped in, and then another. In and out they slid, beckoning my release, while his tongue continued to torture.
Harsh sucks and evocative little licks were followed by a decadent sweep up from perineum to clit using the entire surface area. The man knew what he was doing, and what he was doing was driving me insane.
“Oh God,” I mewled. “More.”
A hum of approval buzzed through his lips, and I nearly lost my footing on the ledge.  He slipped in a third finger and then let his tongue slide up one more time, ending with a tight, hard little suck on my swollen clit. I went off like a rocket, thrusting and panting as the climax ripped through me, the warmth and steam from the shower mixed with my fuzzy pisco and booze brain, making my soul lift up and out of my body. I hovered just above in the hazy fog, watching as this incredible man ate his fill of me, lapping up my juices, never seeming to be sated.
When I finally found my head, he helped me find my feet. But I didn’t even have time to blink the water from my eyes or brush my hair off my face before his lips took mine. Passionate and demanding, he fucked my mouth with his tongue. He tasted like beer and me and damned if it wasn’t the biggest frickin’ turn on, déjà vu of the most erotic kind as his tongue plundered my mouth, mimicking the way he’d just fucked my pussy, making it long for his touch again. I ground my leg against his thigh, already desperate for more friction, for more attention.

Saturday, 15 July 2017

Feature Author Kris Bok and her action-packed adventure book: The Mad Monk's Treasure

Share #AuthorLove for Kris Bock’s Free #Romance Adventure

The Mad Monk’s Treasure

“Smart romance with an ‘Indiana Jones’ feel.”

“Like Nancy Drew for grownups.”

A legendary treasure hunt in the dramatic – and deadly – New Mexico desert....

The lost Victorio Peak treasure is the greatest of treasure-hunting legends, filled with riches from a heretic Spanish priest’s gold mine, bandits, and an Apache Chief.

Erin, a shy history professor, uncovers a clue that may pinpoint the lost cave. She’s ready for adventure, but when a hit and run driver nearly kills her, she knows she’s not the only one after the treasure. And is Drew, the handsome helicopter pilot who found her bleeding in a ditch, a hero or an enemy?

Erin heads into the New Mexico wilderness with her brainy best friend Camie and a feisty orange cat, Tiger. The wilderness holds its own dangers, from wild animals to sudden storms. Meanwhile, dangerous men are on Erin’s trail, determined snatch the treasure from her grasp. How far will Erin go to find the treasure and discover what she’s really made of? And will Drew be there to help her in the end?

“The story has it all—action, romance, danger, intrigue, lost treasure, not to mention a sizzling relationship....”

“The action never stopped .... It was adventure and romance at its best.”

“I couldn’t put this book down. You’ll love it.”

This book was originally published under the title Rattled.

Fans of Mary Stewart, Barbara Michaels, and Terry Odell will enjoy these stories of love in the wild, from an award-winning author.

The Mad Monk’s Treasure Excerpt:

Among all the legends, all the fact and fiction, one story stood out. The Victorio Peak legend had it all. A Franciscan priest and a swindler. Torture, murder, a government cover-up. Where was the truth, among all the stories? Erin wanted to find out. Over time, and with Camie’s encouragement, she’d started to take the treasure hunt more seriously. It wasn’t so much for the treasure itself, which would most likely belong to the government or the landowners. But it would make her reputation, open up new job opportunities – change her life in ways she hardly dared dream.

She touched the book gently. The pages were falling out; she didn’t want to risk carrying it around. Instead, Erin snapped a picture of the petroglyphs with her phone. That would be enough to show Camie for now.

The timing was perfect; she just had to turn in grades and field a few tearful last-minute requests for extensions, and she’d be done for the semester. What better way to spend the summer, than hunting for buried treasure?

Erin shook her head. Who would’ve thought that she, the quiet, studious girl who’d spent her entire adult life in academia in one way or another, would be planning such an adventure?

 Erin wheeled the bike around the front of her house and mounted. At the corner, she paused and looked both ways. The long frontage road was dangerously narrow, with a cement wall on one side and a ditch on the other. Fortunately, traffic was normally light, and at this time of day the road lay empty. Erin pushed off, still grinning from her find. She rode on the right side, by the ditch, instead of facing traffic, because it was too frightening to ride alongside the wall when a car passed.

She’d gone a block when she heard the hum of a car engine as it pulled out from a side street behind her. She rode along the very edge of the pavement, even though the car would have plenty of room to pass her without oncoming traffic.

Erin glanced over her shoulder. The black SUV twenty feet behind her hadn’t bothered to pull out into the road at all. Jerk. When would drivers learn to share the road with bicyclists? Erin pulled onto the two-foot wide gravel strip between the pavement and the ditch. She couldn’t stop without risking a skid, but she slowed so the SUV could pass.

The engine roared. Erin glanced back again.

Black metal bore down on her. Her heart lurched and the bike wobbled. This guy was crazy! She whipped her gaze forward, rose up in the seat, and pumped the pedals with all her power, skimming along inches from the ditch. He was just trying to scare her. She’d get his license plate and—

She felt the bumper hit her back tire. The bike seemed to leap into the air, and she went flying. The dried mud and weeds of the ditch seemed to rise up to meet her.
She didn’t even have time to scream.

Get the book free at these ebook retailers:

Kris Bock writes novels of suspense and romance with outdoor adventures and Southwestern landscapes. Whispers in the Dark features archaeology and intrigue among ancient Southwest ruins. In Counterfeits, stolen Rembrandt paintings bring danger to a small New Mexico town. What We Found is a mystery with strong romantic elements about a young woman who finds a murder victim in the woods.

The Southwest Treasure Hunters novels follow strong characters hunting for long-lost treasures in the dramatic and deadly southwestern desert. Each stands alone.

Read excerpts at or visit her Amazon page. Sign up for Kris Bock newsletter for announcements of new books, sales, and more.

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Thursday, 13 July 2017

A Daring Desire by Jeanne St. James. I've read this one and it's is so damn HOT! Grab it NOW!

A Daring Desire

The Dare Ménage Series, book 4

By Jeanne St. James

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, Ménage, MMF, Interracial


Take two defense attorneys, add one troubled NFL QB who needs them, and what do you get? A threesome of hot, sexy conflict.

Gryff Ward made a serious mistake when he hired the hot-as-hell defense attorney Rayne Jordan as an associate in his high-profile legal firm, even though she’s one of the best. Now he’s struggling to keep it professional, especially when she insists on calling him “Boss.”

Rayne’s been attracted to the firm's top attorney ever since her interview. And she’s well aware that calling the conservative man “Boss” drives him crazy…in a very good way.

Add Trey Holloway, their newest client, a troubled NFL quarterback, into the mix. Tension arises when it’s clear that both Gryff and Trey want Rayne and Gryff is willing to fight for her. However, Trey doesn’t hide the fact that he wants Gryff too.

Now Gryff’s having a hard time fighting not only his attraction to Rayne but to another man. Even though he stubbornly refuses to admit his deepest, darkest desires.
Then Rayne takes control. She’s determined to have them both in not only her bed but her life, and she won’t give up until she does.

Note: This book in the series can be read as standalone. It includes an HEA ending. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual scenes between all three characters.


Trey knew this might be a bad idea.
A really bad one.
But, he figured it could be worth the risk. Though, last time he was in a bar thinking he would get lucky, he got arrested and then suspended from the team, instead.
And now he was down five hundred grand.
Five. Hundred. Fucking. Grand.
He figured he had two good reasons to cough up that much scratch. One, his career might come to a screeching halt if he didn’t, and two, he needed to hire the best to represent him, who, with any luck, would get his charges dismissed instead of going through a lengthy legal process. Because if they weren’t, it would delay him getting back on the team. And a loss of possibly getting a Super Bowl ring.
He fucking wanted that ring. He could taste it.
Grae Ward said his brother was the best. However, Trey didn’t fork out those ridiculous funds simply because of Gryff and Rayne’s reputation. Though, once he met both of them he knew he wanted no one else.
He wasn’t just talking representation in a court of law. He was talking about his bed. Though, he couldn’t figure out who he wanted more. The hot male attorney with an ass that wouldn’t quit. Or the hot female attorney with an ass that wouldn’t quit.
So, what the hell, why not both? Right?
Right. Though, Gryff probably wouldn’t cooperate with his little plan, even though the man got turned on when Trey “flirted” with him. That reaction left Trey with no doubt that Gryff wasn’t completely against the idea of being with another man. Whether that stubborn guy wanted to admit it or not.
Yeah, there was no mistaking the hard-on Gryff got when he pinned Trey against the wall.
Now, as he sat at the bar surrounded by stale smoke and after-work drinking habits, he questioned his idea of tricking Gryff here to the bar.
He ran a finger down the sweating glass of his Jack and Coke. The one he had only two sips from.
Because he needed to be sober for this.
He’d be a fool otherwise. Plus, he needed to keep his “nose clean” or he’d watch his five hundred G’s go up in smoke. Poof.
The door opened and some fresh air rushed into the dank bar’s interior, reminding the occupants for a split second that there really was a life outside this drinking hole. He had picked this particular place because he hoped no one would recognize him, and if they did, they’d likely leave him alone.
When he first walked in and moseyed up to the bar, eyes had landed on him. Along with looks of recognition and curiosity, he even scored a few chin lifts from some of what looked like regulars. But, so far, no one had violated his personal space.
Even the bartender had left him alone after serving him.
Trey’s eyes tracked the broad, dark man approaching him.
And the guy didn’t look happy. Not pleased at all.

Get it on Amazon for $2.99 for a limited time or FREE on Kindle Unlimited:

About the author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a best-selling erotic romance author who loves an Alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing since it gave her an escape from teenage angst! Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here:

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at or sign up for her newsletter:

Find Jeanne here:

Tuesday, 11 July 2017

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Here is my contribution to the set...

Piper Valentine knows all too well that life is short. Off to Peru to heal after a grievous loss, she finds more than solace in the hot, charismatic travel journalist sitting across from her on the airplane. Derrick King’s had a brush with death, too, but he has no idea that he’ll face it again — and again — after giving in to his instant attraction to Piper. Their journey to the top of the world, filled with parties, humor, and fun, is turned topsy-turvy as they’re pursued by mysterious gunmen.
Determined to reach Machu Picchu and fulfill her promise to her dead husband, Piper finds that having Derrick along makes her feel safer, even as his lust for her endangers her heart. She’s never found another man so sensual, and with danger on their trail, they keep ending up in each other’s arms. Derrick’s a man with needs — and secrets. Will Piper find strength in surrender? And can Derrick find a way to believe in a future — for both of them?


Gray eyes flared back at me, and he lifted his hips, set his face into a determined scowl and finally, finally, drove home, sheathing himself to the hilt in one solid thrust. I let out an involuntary grunt from the impact. He was big. Not monster big, but it’d been a while since I’d been with any man at all, and this man was well-endowed to boot.
“You okay?” His pelvis paused mid-thrust. Meanwhile, all I wanted was for him to pick up the speed and hammer me into the mattress until I was putty.
I nodded and bucked up into him. “Yeah…it’s just…it’s been a while. Don’t stop…please don’t stop.”
That smile. And then he did as he was told and went to task. I ground myself against him, frantic for more friction, to feel that sweet little brush of his pelvic bone against my clit, the intermittent rubbing and teasing, lulling my whole body and every nerve ending into eager submission until all I felt was good. With each dirty thrust, he split me open wider, his body claiming mine, dominating mine, possessing mine.
Within moments I was already close, my pussy trembling with every pull and gripping him with every push. I let my hands travel down his back and ribs, exploring his body, his smooth skin, toned muscles, faint scars.  I couldn’t help myself, and I let my fingers fall to his clenching butt. The taut muscle flexed and tightened with every measured thrust. I dug my nails in, and he hissed and then chuckled low and menacing against my shoulder.
“Naughty girl… you’ll pay for that.”
My eyes flashed wide. Would I really? Yes, please.
He chomped down hard on my nipple in revenge, so I dug my fingers in more. He bit down again, this time nearly piercing the skin, all the while the thrusting, the hammering, the plundering never stopped. The man was a machine. Gone was the nerd spewing out facts like an encyclopedia. All that was left was a beast, a savage sex beast ravishing my body until I could no longer think about anything but how good he felt inside me.
He chuckled low and then picked up speed, while his hand came around behind me and reached for mine, lacing our fingers together. He brought them above my head, and then did the same with the other hand, pinning me beneath him, holding onto me for dear life.
I writhed against him, arched my back and then let go. That sweet and rhythmic brush of his pelvic bone against my clit was what did it, what pushed me over the edge into decadent oblivion.
Bright lights flashed behind my closed lids, while his teeth found my shoulder, stifling the groans of his own release. I clenched around him, tight and hot and eager for more of him, for all of him as he pulsed inside of me.
We lay there for a few moments, sweaty and panting, letting our brains find some semblance of equanimity again before we separated and faced reality.

Despite the weight of him on me, pressing my pliant and satiated body into the bed, I felt lighter and more at ease than I had in nearly two years. My head was clear, and finally, my heart felt open again.