Authors: Lorelei James
That was kind of sweet…in a caveman sort of way. “Not everything has to do with sex.”
“Oh yeah? If that’s true, then this Jake guy wouldn’t have left you to have sex with a dude, would he?”
Ava’s mouth dropped open.
“Shit. Sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant—”
“No. Don’t.” She placed her hand on his arm. “I think you’re the first person who’s been totally honest with me.”
He relaxed. Smiled again and she bit back another sigh. “So this is what sent you running from California?”
“I got tired of the paparazzi.” Something kicked from what he’d said about his family. “I got tired of the pity. Of the trade mags making such a big deal out of it. I needed to get away and prove…”
There was that amazing grin again. “Don’t clam up on me now, Hollywood.”
Ava laughed at his impromptu nickname for her.
“And if you’re afraid I’ll judge you? Think again.”
“You were dead-on with the sex question. One of the reasons I’m here? To find a guy I can get wild with. To prove I’m hot between the sheets. To prove I can keep a man sexually satisfied.”
“Is that right?” he drawled.
Her brain slipped into seductress mode as she channeled the femme fatale she’d played on TV for two seasons. “Maybe…you’re the man who can help me with that.”
Nothing comes easy. You’ve gotta work for it.
Rocky Mountain Desire
© 2012 Vivian Arend
Six Pack Ranch, Book 3
Matt Coleman always figured at this point in his life, he’d be settled down with a family. Since his ex split for the big city, though, no way will he give anyone else the chance to drop-kick his heart. Physical pleasure? Hell, yeah, he’ll take—and give—with gusto, but nothing more.
Hope Meridan is working long hours to hold on to her new quilt shop, going it alone since her sister/business partner ran off. Sex? Right, like she’s got the time. Not that she doesn’t have the occasional dirty fantasy about Matt. Fat chance he’d dream of knocking boots with her—the younger sister of the woman who dumped him. Nope, she’ll just have to settle for the F-word.
Friends
would be far easier if there wasn’t something combustible going on between them. And when casual interest starts to grow into something more, their tenuous bond strengthens in the heat of desire. But it may not survive the hurricane-force arrival of the last person either of them ever wanted to see again…
Warning: Small-town rivals, men in pursuit and family meddling—in good and bad ways. Look for a cowboy who knows how to rope, ride and rein in a hell of a lot more than eight seconds of sheer bliss.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rocky Mountain Desire:
“What are you doing?” He paced the store, and she followed, dragging her gaze off his ass just in time as he spun around, wide smile beaming down.
“Just checking out the place. You’ve got some neat stuff in here. I mean, I already knew you had quilts, but there’s a lot of different projects.”
“Anytime you want to take up sewing…”
He leaned a hip on the cutting table, and the broad surface slid away from him. Matt stood rapidly as she grabbed for the edge and rebalanced it.
“Shit, sorry about that. I usually stand in the middle and brace it with my knee when I cut.”
He held out a hand. “I can fix that for you.”
Suspicion snuck over her. She turned and examined the bucket he’d had in his hands. The one he’d placed on the floor that she’d ignored while distracted by all the rest of him. It was filled with hammers and screwdrivers and other tools. “Matt, what are you doing here?”
He glanced around, feet shuffling in place like a naughty kid caught in the act. “Just thought I might offer you a hand. You know, brace the table, adjust shelves, anything that you need help with.”
“And you would do this because…?”
“I want to?”
Yeah, right. “Sure. You got up this morning and decided ‘I have nothing better to do today. I should volunteer my services to Hope.’ Is that it?”
Matt shrugged. “Well, I had a coffee first, but then yeah, that was pretty much what happened.”
Hope laughed. “Aren’t you a shitty liar? Don’t worry, you don’t have to feel guilty about anything getting ruined when I went off the road. I got everything back and most of it survived the adventure. It’s good, and frankly? Being saved from that ditch—you were right. It was just stuff and neither of our lives was worth risking. Please, put your guilt aside.”
The door opened, the bell ringing sweetly through the shop. This time it was a customer, so Hope waved farewell at Matt and went to help the woman.
Only, he didn’t leave, or not for good. At one point he headed out the door and she thought the strange visit was over, but before long he was back, coat once again on the hook, light tapping noises coming from the cutting area where he popped up and down like a broken jack-in-the-box. The entire time she pulled embroidery floss from the cupboard and helped her customer gather items for a project, he was there in the background. After the third time she’d forgotten what number thread she was going for, she steadfastly ignored him.
A few more people wandered in, and Hope got busy serving and chatting with the ladies, admiring projects and pictures of completed gifts they’d already mailed off to relatives for the holiday season.
It was over an hour later before she realized she was alone with him in the shop. It was obvious, no matter what she said, he was going to do whatever he pleased.
She wasn’t sure if that pissed her off or if she liked his stubbornness.
After filling a mug with coffee, she brought it over and placed it in front of him. “If you’re planning on staying much longer, you should know I will drape a display quilt over your back.”
Matt stood, pausing to brush his palms against his thighs before picking up the coffee and taking a long swallow. He closed his eyes as he hummed in approval, and she allowed herself one brief fantasy of kissing her way across his firm jawline, tasting his lips.
She snapped her gaze back up to meet his, attempting her most innocent expression possible.
He was grinning. “Am I in your way?”
She shrugged. “Not really, but I still don’t understand what you’re up to. Go home, Matt. If you don’t have chores to do, you certainly don’t need to waste a day off in my shop.”
He moved aside a basket full of patterns for Christmas ornaments and sat on the stool he’d cleared. “Yes, I’ve got some time off today, but I don’t consider it a waste to spend it here.”
Bloody fool. “What the hell is going on? Just tell me.”
“I want to help you.”
“I didn’t ask for help.”
“But you said we were going to be friends.”
Hope opened her mouth to respond and nothing came out.
Friends.
The night she’d offered that word to him rushed back. Her brain flooded with too many erotic images. Him stripping down, his cock tenting the front of his boxers. She might have had her eyes open a tiny crack as he stripped, and her penance was that now she had a good idea exactly what size equipment he was packing.
The sight of him, the feel of his hard body underneath hers in the tub—all of it rendered her speechless to respond.
Friends?
Good Lord. She was going to die right there in the shop.
This time, he’s not giving her up without a fight.
His Only Hope
© 2011 Skylar Kade
After two grueling years caring for her terminally ill mother, Hope O’Shea is eager to start fresh. Except her first interior-decorating job is for a popular BDSM club—part of her kinky past she misses, but had to leave behind.
Worse, she somehow ends up in the arms of her ex-Dom, Gabriel Cassidy. The one man who could strip her emotions bare, so bare that rather than reveal her painful history, she ran.
Gabriel never understood why Hope left without even a goodbye. Determined to get answers, he entices her to Maison Domine for a weekend on the promise of meeting the owner for another decorating job. Except being with her again reminds him why he loved her in the first place—and why she shouldn’t trust him as her Dom.
As their attraction reignites, Hope is transported back to the sub-space bliss she felt only with Gabe. Then a nightmare from her past shows up at the club, and with no other safe place to turn, she has no choice but to trust Gabe with her shame. Leaving Gabe with a devastating choice—reveal his last secret…or lose his Hope.
Warning: This book contains a feisty interior decorator, a dominating leather worker, heart-wrenching sex and redemption.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
His Only Hope:
Gabe’s lips thinned and his dark brown eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, somewhere mysterious where no one from your prior life knows your location?”
That kind of snark had been her territory, not his.
You have no clue where he’s been or what he’s done or who he is now.
The idea stabbed her heart with little spikes of sadness.
“I’m back.” She paused, crossing her arms and legs as she leaned against the mirrored wall. The words seemed inadequate but she was so not prepared to have
The Talk
with Gabe.
“Gabe, I really am fine. You can go back to whatever you were doing. Thank you for the save.” Hope looked down and repressed a grimace, not liking the thought of him being at the club to top some chick. Or, even worse, being there with his submissive.
His boots filled her vision. Guess he wasn’t leaving as she’d wanted. His insistence on doing things his way hadn’t changed.
She trailed her eyes upward, enjoying the sight even as her heart and head warred over how damnably vulnerable this situation could leave her. And that damn scent, so purely Gabe. It had haunted her for weeks after she’d left and would do the same now that she’d smelled him again.
“Hope, what were you thinking, getting involved with those men?”
She flicked her attention to his face. His jaw was tight and lines of anger radiated from his eyes.
“With
them? No. They decided in the hall that I was too uppity for a ‘slave’ and wanted to teach me a lesson.” She shuddered, too overwhelmed by the evening’s events to suppress it.
Gabe snorted. “Sounds like the Hope I knew, full of fire and rebellion.”
Her spine straightened at the frustration in his voice.
He turned, and she half hoped Gabe would leave. Instead, he grabbed a chair from against the mirror and plopped it in front of her. He straddled its hardwood seat, leaning his muscled forearms on the short metal back.
“Hey, don’t lay this shit on me. The jackass is a Super-Uber-Dom. Even called me ‘slave’. What a douche.”
“I see your mouth hasn’t improved at all,” he said. “I’m surprised your Dom hasn’t disciplined it out of you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What Dom? I haven’t even been to a club in years, and you know how much I hate stupid Tops.” She scoffed. “Little boys playing king of the castle. It’s pathetic, really.” She jutted her chin at him. “And my mouth is more than fine, as you damn well recall.”
He smirked. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten that, baby. But you seem to have trouble recalling that all work and no play makes Hope a very stressed-out girl.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been just lovely.”
In a flash, he had her pressed against the mirror, one hand pinning her wrists against the cool surface. She’d not realized just how close he was sitting until that point.
Her heart kicked into overdrive and her mouth went dry. Wetness trickled from between her thighs. Damn him for knowing how to push her hot buttons.
“Don’t you lie to me, Hope O’Shea.” His voice held a familiar warning. “You need a good topping, I can see it in your eyes. And don’t get me started on what your hard nipples say you need,
cara.
”
Gabe had a big Italian family from his mother’s side, and that word had become his sole term of endearment for her. Damn him. He always managed to croon that word, his deep, rumbling voice caressing her heart into almost melting for him.
She struggled against his hands, wanting to hurt him, wanting to hold him. “You…you asshole, you have no right telling me what I need.”
He pressed his body to hers until she had no way of moving. His words tickled her sensitive earlobe. “You know I’m right. I can still read you.” He rubbed against her. “Can you read me?”
The thickness of his erection burned through her slacks, and even as her mind rebelled against it, arousal primed her body.
“So you have a cock. Big fucking deal.”
He nibbled her earlobe and laughed, the vibrations tingling through her body. “Nice try, pussycat. All growl, no claws because you want me too.”