Read the rest of Chapter 1
first scene from No Matter What
One-night stands were a lot like apple pie as far as Jaden Monroe was concerned.
The notion of having sex with someone just for the sex had honestly never appealed to her. Like apple pie. Jaden had believed her whole life that she didn’t like apple pie simply because she’d never seen or smelled one that tempted her. But the truth was, her senses just hadn’t been introduced to the right one. Once she tasted the apple pie, she couldn’t get enough.
Especially à la mode.
The man now sitting at table sixteen near the front door of Big Billy’s Bar and Grill was the one that could change her mind about one-night stands. He wouldn’t even have to talk. He’d just have to be there, completely naked—of course—with those eyes that had been on her all night.
This guy didn’t just look at her, he didn’t just watch—he seemed to be studying her, even appreciating her, like someone did a painting in an art gallery. He took in every detail of how she moved—and breathed for that matter. She could feel it.
It wasn’t creepy, though it probably should seem a little stalker-ish. It made her hot and tingly and a bunch of other things she hadn’t been in a long time.
Looking at him now, Jaden couldn’t think of one reason why ice cream and sex couldn’t go together too. But with this guy it couldn’t be just vanilla. It would have to be something much more decadent. Double Fudge Brownie, maybe. Or Peanut Butter Passion. Spread all over him. And she definitely wouldn’t need a spoon.
Read the rest of the scene!
Opening scene from Sexpresso Night
I decided to use the opening scene from my latest release, and it's pretty short! And oddly, reading it now, I realize I never identified Danya by name in this opening scene...hmmm.
How long was he going to just lie there?
Not that she minded being on top, but dammit, she just wanted him to take charge for once!
Chris looked up at her, his mouth curving into a lazy smile. “What?”
The softness of his touch, his erection brushing her hip, his gentle smile, made her want to weep with longing for more—forceful hands, demanding kisses, the weight of a hard body pressing her down. She closed her eyes against the dark hunger rising inside her, the craving to be pushed, taken to the edge.
And he had no clue. She searched for the words to tell him how she felt. Her eyes fell on the silk neck tie he’d discarded earlier, draped over the night table. She reached across him for it.
The cool silk slid through her fingers as she held it up. “Here.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Tie me up. Do whatever you want.”
His body jerked so hard she actually tumbled off him. He sat up, his eyebrows pinched together, mouth a tight line. “What the hell? Tie you up?”
She swallowed and pushed her hair off her face. And laughed. “I’m joking. A joke.”
He subsided back onto the pillows. “Oh.” Not laughing. Not even smiling. Well, that had been a genius move.
Cheeks scorching, stomach tight, she flopped to her back and stared at the ceiling.
Lia Delgado moaned in ecstasy. Tired eyes fluttering in satisfaction, she reached out to the passenger seat of her car and fumbled around until she struck gold – there was another French fry hiding at the bottom of the grease-stained brown paper bag that had just held her salvation. Yep, definite proof that God is a woman – crispy French-fried goodness. She popped the fry into her mouth like an addict taking the next hit and let out a contented groan, the sound encompassing not only her cheeseburger-fries-and-shake-filled stomach, but her TGIF bliss.
As the secretary for Brantforth Walker Kensington III, Esq., Lia was constantly buried under paperwork, legal briefs, and dry cleaning for His Royal Hiney, the District Attorney. And if working for the arrogant bastard wasn't a huge gold star on her resume, she wouldn’t have been able to stand him.
But despite the craziness of the week, it was Friday, and Lia had a date with her sweatpants and Denzel Washington DVD collection. Maybe also with that gallon of truffle chocolate chip ice cream in her freezer. She shook off her In-N-Out-induced food coma and finally got out of her worn Civic. Lia snagged her briefcase before kicking the car door shut and hitting the button to close the garage door. Trudging to the door of her condo, she fit her keys to the lock and reached for the knob. On the verge of pushing open her door, she felt an eerie tingling on the back of her neck. She’d learned early on to listen to those instincts. Backing up a step, she looked at her door. Nothing was off. She replayed the last two minutes – car locked, keys out, cell phone in hand, door unloc… The door lock hadn’t clicked open when she’d turned her key. The door hadn’t been locked at all.
Look for the novella next year in Parker Publishing's Curvalicious anthology.
Kinsey W. Holley
First Scene from Kiss and Kin
Lark inspected her reflection in her antique full-length mirror. Applying final touches to her makeup, she pursed her lips and smudged her gloss just a bit. She pulled her auburn chestnut hair into a carefully messy chignon, touchable stray wisps framing her face the way Taran liked it.
Dressed in a purple lace bra, boyshorts and four-inch stilettos, she struck a little pose. Which dress to wear?
They both showed off her legs. The chic black cocktail number featured a fun little twirly skit, and she fancied herself a fun twirly kind of girl. On the other hand, she liked to look like a bad girl sometimes, which she did in the lavender sheath with the plunging neckline and the slit up to mid thigh.
She held up each dress beneath her chin, one at a time, and eyed herself critically. Lavender, black. Lavender, black.
She heard Taran getting ready in the bathroom, but when he suddenly appeared behind her—a werewolf could move so swiftly and silently it seemed he teleported—he wore nothing but skin.
Taking a hanger in each hand, he tossed the dresses aside. He laid a large, warm hand on her stomach and pulled her tightly against him while his other hand cupped her breast. His thumb rubbed circles around her nipple through the thin lace.
“What are you doing here?” he growled softly. His stubble tickled her neck as he nuzzled. It made her laugh.
He rolled her nipple between two fingers and she sighed, reaching back to run her fingers through his dark gold hair. His other hand now cupped her mound, barely touching, and she ground her hips, silently urging him to press harder. He chuckled.
“I’m trying to choose a dress,” she smiled. “Which do you like?”
“Neither,” he replied. “I vote for naked.” He nipped her shoulder and slid his hand inside the boyshorts.
Their gazes met in the mirror, the only way she could maintain eye contact with him. Lust glittered in his eyes, making them shine like emeralds. Her dark blue eyes melted in submission. In heels, she stood almost as tall as he did, but she looked petite against his much larger body.
“I can’t go to dinner like this, and neither can you,” she murmured.
“True.” He ran his tongue lightly down the back of her neck. “Anthony’s has a dress code. Reservations at eight, right?”
“Yes.” She shivered.
She gasped as his middle finger sank into her folds and stroked.
“So…” he smiled against her neck, “…I’ve got ten minutes to make you come. I can do that with one arm tied behind your back.”
He took his hand out of her panties, spun her around and pinned one of her arms behind her. She moaned in anticipation as his mouth came down on hers, and she woke up.
Damn it. Shit. Damn, damn, damn, shit.
Lark rolled over and slammed her head into the pillow.
She couldn’t even manage a decent sex dream about him—she always woke up when it got to the good part. Her subconscious just rolled its eyes and said, “This is too farfetched for me to handle, kiddo. Dream about someone in your league—like George Clooney, maybe. He’ll ask you out before Taran notices you’re grown, much less shows any interest.”
She showered, trying not to think about Taran as she did it.
Opening scene from Midnight Reborn
"Here’s the last box from the van, Mom." Robyn Andrews walked into the small, one-bedroom apartment and dropped the box on the floor in exhaustion. She had been helping her mother, Rachel, lug boxes of their belongings from the rental van up two flights of stairs all morning.
There weren’t that many boxes since they didn’t have much in the way of belongings, but it was exhausting nonetheless.
Robyn was fourteen, or fourteen and a half as she liked to remind everyone. She and her mother had lived alone since her dad walked out on them two years ago. Now, Robyn and her mother had to get by with only her mother’s salary as a cashier at the local Wal-Mart. Unable to continue paying the high rent for their house, they had to find cheaper housing, thus the move to the small apartment.
Robyn understood the reasons for moving and the situation they were in, and it broke her heart to see her mother struggle. She wished that she could help somehow, but she was only fourteen.
They would persevere just as they had for two years, giving each other little pep talks every step of the way, but Robyn had found herself having to play the role of cheerleader more and more these days.
Out of the blue, it seemed their prayers were answered. Her mother was taking a lunch break from her shift at Wal-Mart when a friend of hers began talking about a waitress job at Chester’s, a bar and grill located in a small town just outside of Houston. Robyn’s mother didn’t hesitate to make a trip there to ask for the job. Chester Roy, the owner, hired her on the spot to work nights and weekends. She had come home excited about the new job and the prospect of good tips, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.
The waitress position at Chester’s was what launched the search for rental property in the small town. As luck would have it, there was an available apartment only blocks away from the bar.
Although the apartment was extremely small, her mother called it a blessing and assured Robyn that everything would work out fine.
Robyn believed her mother, that was until her mother brought home Jake Carter, a man whom she met at the bar. They began spending more and more time together, which concerned Robyn. Not because she was feeling left out or that she was losing the attention of her mother to her new boyfriend. In fact, she would have been totally happy for her mother if the man had been anyone but Jake.
Jake made Robyn feel uneasy whenever he was around. He was nice looking with his long, dark hair kept pulled back into a ponytail, and his dark, sun-baked skin. But Robyn couldn’t see any positive qualities beyond his looks. She was a firm believer that beauty was only skin deep. What you saw on the outside was not always what was on the inside.
It was his eyes that caused Robyn the most concern. He watched her every move like a predator searching for weaknesses in its prey and the perfect time to strike. She had never seen such cold, calculating eyes before. Saying that the man gave her the royal heebie-jeebies was an understatement. Jake frightened her. So much so she found excuses to leave the apartment whenever he came around.
The day she feared finally came. Her mother walked into the apartment after her shift at the bar with Jake on her heels as usual. They were laughing but quieted when they saw Robyn sitting at the table, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Robyn could see the look of uncertainty in her mother’s face and alarm bells started blaring in her head.
"Hi, sweetie. We’ve got something wonderful to tell you," her mother said with a bright smile.
Oh please, please don’t say you’re getting married!
Click here to read more from Midnight Reborn and the other novels in the Watcher Series
“What are you going to do, fire me?”
Bold words for a woman who adored her job, even if she was the one holding the hose, and Kennedy Beaumont knew it.
Drops of water from the warning shot she’d fired glistened on the bar between her and the two men who looked ready to tear each other’s throats out. Despite the pounding beat of music—courtesy of the house band—more than a few heads had swiveled in her direction the second she’d snatched the hose from beneath the counter and promised to drench the pair if they didn’t knock it off.
Not that the threat would have been a problem if both men were drunk or hassling her. Unfortunately, the quiet regular with dark blond hair and a wicked-looking scar that curved from the corner of his mouth to his ear had never uttered a disrespectful word to her, never even needed to be cut off and dumped in a cab.
The other guy was her boss—sort of.
Read the rest of the scene HERE!