Thursday, October 27, 2016

It's Time To Meet The Heir





Blurb: 

In a world where magic makes might Cyril Arlen is the fourth son of the Matriarch of House Arlen, a powerful clan of witch-born.  Uninterested in politics or the pressures associated with his House, Cyril is content to leave it all behind to live a quiet and peaceful life on his own.

Unfortunately not everyone agrees with that choice.

After a decade of peace Cyril is unexpectedly named Heritor to his mother’s position and shoved back into the spotlight against his will.

Now, forced to deal with a power hungry half-brother and the pressures of one day ruling his House, Cyril’s only comfort is Alpha Sinclair Ferus.  Sinclair is duty bound to protect him and happens to be 
the same man who has fascinated Cyril since he was a child.

Despite his reluctance to accept his new position Cyril finds that having Sinclair around might just make it all worthwhile.

Teaser:

For one tense, almost too long moment, Sinclair was rigid against him, the shoulder beneath his hand as hard as marble. Just as Cyril was prepared to pull back, to stammer an apology and find somewhere to hide until his hurt and humiliation had faded, Sinclair moved.

Alpha in all the ways that mattered, Sinclair took control of the kiss with a barely suppressed snarl. His mouth went from passive to aggressive as his arms came up, one large hand cupped the back of Cyril’s neck firmly while the other arm wrapped itself around his waist. Cyril barely had time to blink before he was tugged even closer to the heat of Sinclair’s frame and desire threatened to completely white out his thoughts.

There was a low rumbling growl building in Sinclair’s chest, Cyril could feel it with as close as they were pressed together. Caught up in his lust Cyril couldn’t help but try and press even closer to him. The arm around his waist was a band of steel that clutched him tightly as Sinclair’s tongue swept into his mouth to tangle with his own. Sinclair tasted of mint and hints of spice, chai like the tea he drank in the afternoons.

The arm around his waist moved then. Sinclair’s hand trailed down across his waist and his lower back only to pause long enough to squeeze his ass for a brief moment. Then, with a flex of muscle, Cyril found himself hoisted in the air so that he could wrap his legs around Sinclair’s tapered waist. He groaned at the sensations the new position invoked, at the way Sinclair’s hips fit so nicely between his thighs, even as Sinclair shifted them until Cyril felt a wall at his back.

Sinclair broke the kiss a few seconds later only to nip sharply at Cyril’s bottom lip and duck down so he could mouth wetly at the curve of his throat. Cyril didn’t hesitate to tip his head back as far as he could against the wall behind him, purposefully baring his throat.

Sinclair made a rough growling noise and then his mouth seemed to be everywhere. He sucked harshly at Cyril’s pulse point, ran his tongue across the throbbing vein, nipped at the sensitive skin until Cyril knew he’d have marks. He also knew what the willing and open baring of a throat meant to a wolf.

Trust.

Surrender.

Submission.


Friday, March 4, 2016

Let's be just A Little Bit Reckless



Blurb:

When Hannah Knowles is invited on a winter get away by friends she doesn’t expect it to end in disaster.  An overheard conversation leaves Hannah reeling from the discovery that those friendships are a lot more one sided than she’d thought.  Determined to leave she ends up stranded in a winter storm only to be taken in by Luke, the sexy and seemingly unattainable older brother of Jamie, her childhood friend.

Luke Draper is more than happy to take Hannah in out of the cold.  Having the alluring Hannah in close confines with him is both painful and tempting for Luke.  Still, conscious of her fragile feelings, Luke’s determined to carefully restrain his long held desire.  Until Hannah makes a suggestion that Luke’s hard pressed to pass up.
Together Hannah and Luke have to decide if being a little bit reckless is really the right thing to do.

Teaser:
For a long moment Luke didn’t, couldn’t, breathe, his air trapped somewhere in his chest.
            ‘Did she really just say that?’  Luke asked himself incredulously.  Unable to believe what he’d just heard he struggled to rein in his suddenly whirling mind.
Aware that Hannah was staring at him, an expectant look on her face, Luke shook his head harshly and tried to come back to reality.
What?”  His voice came out as little more than a rasp.  Luke swallowed harshly, aware of the dry clicking sound his throat made, and tried not to focus on the way his cock automatically stiffened or how sheer want surged through his veins.  Every fantasy he’d ever had about her seemed to be trying to rush in on him all at once, and to compete for first place in his mind.
“I said,” Hannah’s head was tilted up at an almost defiant angle but Luke could tell that her boldness was beginning to fade, “I think we should have sex.”
“Yeah,” Luke nodded as he stepped carefully over the broken shards of the dropped mugs and moved to stand directly in front of her, “that’s what I thought you said.”
Then he did the only thing he could do in that moment.
He leaned down and kissed her.


Thursday, March 26, 2015

Chroma Agents Are Not To Be Trifled With ...





BLURB:

Spectrum, 1

As a Chroma agent, one of the elite operatives for the Spectrum Intelligence Agency, Jonah Gray was skilled enough to handle most anything that came his way. If not, Jonah knew he could always rely on his handler, the clever Mr. Fox, to pull him through. Drawn to the seductive voice and commanding strength of the man on the other end of the line, Jonah wavers between his attraction to his handler and the knowledge that handlers and operatives are never supposed to meet. 

Then a mission goes horribly wrong and Jonah finds himself on the wrong end of a kill order. With Jonah on the run, both handler and operative are desperate to finally meet so they can face this new threat head on. Together they struggle to discover who wants Jonah dead while they finally take the opportunity to embrace the passion that has always simmered between them.


EXCERPT:

“Are your eyes closed?”  Silas asked him quieter than before, softer and gentler.
“Yes Sir.”  Jonah felt vulnerable in that moment, in a way he thought he’d left behind a long time ago.  To distract himself a bit he let his hands come down to rest on his stomach, let his fingers slide gently over the skin there, but no lower.  He didn’t have permission for that yet, after all.
“I’ve got you,” Silas promised almost as if he could tell what Jonah was feeling without even being able to see him. “You’re safe with me remember?  You can relax and trust me Jonah.  You can trust me to keep you safe, to tell you what to do.  You can trust me with all of that.  With all of you.”      
“I know.  I do.”  Jonah fought back the swell of emotions in his chest as the mixture of devotion and affection that he always felt towards Silas threatened to burst free.  Slowly, deliberately, he inhaled again.  Exhaled.  Inhaled, exhaled, repeated it until he felt himself even out, felt himself center.
“Good.”  Silas said it roughly, voice ragged in a way that let Jonah know just how much his admittance meant to Silas.  “I wish I could see you right now.  You’re gorgeous Jonah, you know that don’t you?  I bet you’re beautiful the way you are right now, laid back on that bed with your eyes closed, cock hard and body open.  I bet you’re perfect.  I’ve always thought you would be.  Ever since the first time I saw you.”
Jonah’s eyes flew open in stunned surprise before he slammed them shut again.  Silas’s voice was ragged but honest, deep and thick with that hot, honey drawl that Jonah loved so much.
“You’ve seen me?”  The thought that Silas had seen him, knew what he looked like, and so obviously approved, made Jonah feel slightly giddy with a mixture of pride and relief.
“Oh yes.”  Silas sounded amused for a moment then.  “I’ve seen you many times Jonah.  I am your handler after all.  I’ve read your file, seen videos.  Sometimes I watch you on the security cameras on missions.  You’re a thing of beauty, Jonah.  All lethal grace and power that draws the eye.  Even when you’re off mission, even when you’re wandering around whatever city or town you decide to spend your time in, you’re still fascinating.  Captivating.”
“And do I?”  Jonah couldn’t help but ask.  He needed to know, burned to know for certain whether or not the fascination he felt was mutual.  “Do I captivate you?”
“Completely,” Silas admitted quietly and with that sort of brutal honesty in his voice that Jonah adored.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Nothing's more important than Finding Home!

I'm pleased to be back with my newest story Finding Home.




BLURB:

Left adrift after escaping from an abusive relationship has left Salem Rooks with little in the way of personal connections in his life.  So when Salem bumps into an attractive stranger on his way to work one morning he isn’t expecting it to lead anywhere.  He certainly isn’t expecting it to change his life.

Wyatt Pendleton is handsome, sweet natured, and homeless.  Drawn to the quiet strength Wyatt exudes, Salem finds himself pulled back to the man’s side time and time again.  Working through their differences is a challenge, as is the ever looming shadow of Salem’s abusive ex.  Despite that, Salem finds that he and Wyatt are both willing to fight to protect the home that they’ve found in each other.


EXCERPT:

He wanted Wyatt fiercely in that instance and his hands moved down of their own accord to pluck at the waistband of Wyatt’s pants.  He was all set to tug at it, to finally see what Wyatt’s cock looked like when one of Wyatt’s hands suddenly wrapped around his fingers and tugged them away.  Startled, Salem pulled back far enough to look Wyatt in the face.

Wyatt was flushed, his cheeks red above the dark line of his beard, his lips kiss swollen and his eyes bright with want.  Salem’s own face felt hot, the skin of his cheeks and around his mouth rubbed tender by Wyatt’s beard.  He leaned forward to kiss Wyatt again, but to his surprise and slight hurt Wyatt shook his head slowly.  Salem sat frozen as Wyatt raised a hand up to slowly, carefully, cup his jaw in the warmth of his palm instead in a gesture that had quickly grown familiar between the two of them.

“We can’t, Salem.  Not now, not just yet.”  Wyatt’s voice was a deep, throaty rasp that made Salem’s stomach flutter for a brief second before he focused on what had been said.

“Why not?”  Salem cleared his throat and did his best to ignore the huskiness of his own voice as doubt crept up on him suddenly.  It was enough to break through the passionate haze that had fallen over him.  “Do you not want me?”  Salem shifted nervously where he was pressed against Wyatt’s body as he waited for the answer.  He was sure Wyatt did want him, but he still felt compelled to ask.  He could feel the line of his cock pressed against his own hip, a thick hot weight that made Salem want to sigh in anticipation, but it suddenly wasn’t proof enough.  He’d been wrong about so much in the past that Salem needed the reassurance.


“I want you.”  Wyatt replied instantly before he leaned back down into Salem’s space to nip and suck at his earlobe.  Salem shuddered.  “I’ve wanted you for weeks now.  I’ve imagined being with you, in you, a hundred times.  I’d daydream about kissing you, about how you’d taste, what you’d feel like.  Wanting’s not the issue, Salem.”

Sunday, February 8, 2015

London Saint James Is Back!




Blurb:

They fight to protect those who would never welcome them into the human world... 

Petúr always knew he and his brothers-in-arms were different. Something more. Something not human. Yet, he never expected to find out the truth of their origins, nor fall for a human woman whose father was set to destroy Neverland. 

Ever since she was a child, Wyndi dreamed of an angel with eyes of the purest gold, although she never really believed such a man existed until she met the hauntingly beautiful Petúr of the lost boys. 

With a prophecy to fulfill, a woman to protect, a portal to find, and evil darklings out for blood, will Petúr be strong enough to rise up and claim what’s rightfully his, or lose everything to a long-time nemesis, Grapple the Dark?


EXCERPT:

“Where are we going?” Wyndi asked.
“My room.” Five rapid heartbeats later, they were inside his bedroom with Petúr kicking the door closed behind them. “I need to know something,” he said in his honey tones.
Wyndi glanced up at him from under her lashes, and shivered. He was staring at her with eyes glinting gold. The braid he wore in his hair dangled down the right side of his cheek, tickling her.
“What do you want to know?”
“This.”
Petúr bent his head, slanted his mouth over hers, tongue tasting the line of her lips until she parted them on an intake of breath. When their flesh met, she closed her eyes. Fireworks exploded inside her head, the luminous sparks floating, then falling, falling, and transitioning into a force crashing down over her—a title wave of longing. She moaned, tasting the summer sky, morning dew, the sweetness of rainbows, sultry nights, and rain storms.
Mind whirling, her body shifting, she was lying on her back, fingers tangled into the nape of Petúr’s satiny hair, the other hand pressed against the steely strength of his shirt-covered chest. Every part of her became aware of him on some sort of molecular level. Yet nothing could have prepared her for what she experienced when he tucked himself between her thighs and groaned. Heat slammed into her core. Her stomach quivered. Her panties dampened. An inferno. Yes, surely it must be an inferno which lapped at her skin while their tongues tangled into infinity.
****
 Petúr was lost in an ocean of sensation, wave after wave, pulling him under. The connection to this woman beneath him was undeniable. Everything about Wyndi filled him up until there was nothing but her. Her taste. Her touch. Her scent. His chest expanded.
Damn, her scent. She tasted better than the cotton candy fragrance that wafted from her skin. Skin. Oh, yes, skin. That’s what he needed, to feel her soft skin against his.
“Wyndi.” He breathed, saddened to break the kiss, reaching over his shoulder, yanking the material of his shirt, lifting up with the other hand, and pulling the garment from over his head. “I must feel your flesh against mine.”
Her tongue darted out, licking her lips. Was she nervous? Well, he’d be the balm to soothe those nerves. He focused on her mouth. Those delicious lips were kiss swollen and moist, making his cock strain even more against the constraint of his pants.
“Okay,” she said in a small, breathy voice, the lids covering her blue eyes at half-mast.
He reached for the hem of the too big nightshirt covering the body he had to see, lifting until he revealed her little white panties and lacy bra covered breasts. Blood raced through his veins. He wanted to do everything with her. To her. Touch all over. Taste every inch of her. Put his fingers and cock into the tight, warm sheath he knew was awaiting him.
Take her. Hell yeah. Those two words became a chant within his mind. He wanted to take his woman in every position he could imagine and then some. His woman? Yes. Yes she was his, or would be. Slow your roll. You don’t want to scare her. He had to maintain. He couldn’t go at her like some out of control beast.
Leaning down, he kissed between the creamy mounds of her cleavage, skimmed his cheek across the apex of her right breast, watching goose bumps scatter across her flesh in a wanton invitation. Unable to stop himself from licking her, he lapped at her in one, long, lingering stroke, from the top edge of the bra, up her collarbone, only stopping because the material he’d lifted hindered his progress being bunched around her neck.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered. “You taste so good.”  

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