UPDATE: The winner is…Nancy Gilliland!
*~*~*

I’m releasing a story I wrote a while ago that was part of a series, but I’ve revised it to stand on its own. It’s one I loved writing, because I let my imagination run wild inside the stories I read when I was a child and completely in love with mythology. This is mostly based on Greek mythology and, of course, the reader gets to meet the dark and dangerous God of the Underworld, Hades. Well, you get to see quite a bit of him, actually. 🙂

Be sure to enter to win the contest, and read the very naughty excerpt I’ve included below…

Contest

Comment for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card! 

Is there a particular country’s/region’s mythology you love best?

Gargoyle’s Embrace

Lust trapped them in darkness…only love can free them…

Petra Pedersen has lived as a recluse all her life thanks to a shameful power inherited from the father she will never know. The power to incite lust in men and women with just a touch.

Exploring the garden of the mansion she’s just inherited, she comes across a fascinating stone gargoyle whose raw, passionate expression draws her to caress its powerful body. Her imagination follows her fluttering fingers. As she closes her eyes and gives herself up to the arousal, something shifts beneath her touch.

Long ago, failure to stop a demon battle trapped Octavius in a prison of stone. Freed by the woman’s incendiary touch, he doesn’t hesitate to unleash his pent-up rage and desire in a blistering fury. Yet once the haze of lust clears, he discovers he isn’t really free after all.

They are both trapped in another realm where he must choose between his last chance for redemption or returning Petra home…

Warning: Sex with inanimate objects, lusty m/m/f ménages with gods… It’s all good when the reward is freedom.

Pre-order your copy here!

It will be free to KU subscribers for a limited time!

Read an excerpt…

At the end of the path, she exited the dense, tall foliage into a clearing. A gazebo, its lattices intact but in need of paint, stood against the darkening forest. To her left a stone bench sat next to a large statue. The fading sunlight limned the statue and lent its surface a pearlescent sheen. The figure of a winged gargoyle, its massive body upright, its arms and wings outstretched as though ready to take flight was so exact, so detailed, she couldn’t help but stare. “Oh, my.”

She crept closer. Oddly, the large statue wasn’t supported by a sturdy base. Instead, the feet of the mythical creature were mired in dirt and grass. Vines crept up the thickly hewn calves and thighs, curling around and around. Leaves like ivy and blooms of honeysuckle entangled to clothe his naked body, even twining around the masculine appendage rising between his thighs.

She wondered how such a large statue remained supported by only the two feet planted in the dirt and thought the artist must have been truly gifted to achieve the balance. Entranced, she could only stare in awe at the massive object.

Shadows accentuated the outline of the long muscles cloaking his legs; light sparkled on the bulging, straining curves; veins tracked along arms and thick, leathery-looking wings.

While she stared, she realized there was nothing stopping her from touching it with the bare pads of her fingertips. She’d touched intimately only one masculine body in her life and had learned to her dismay the dangers. But this figure carved in stone couldn’t respond to her curse, and she could indulge her curiosity about his masculine form.

Timidly, she touched his knee, opening her palm over the cap. Surprised, she pulled back her hand. The stone wasn’t cool to the touch. Perhaps it had soaked up the warmth from the sunlight. The surface was so smooth it had felt real, almost pulsating.

The allure of the forbidden was too great to resist, and she pressed her hand against his thigh, trailing it upwards, admiring the sleek, hard muscle. But vines impeded her exploration.

She reached up and took the uppermost strands and peeled them away, one by one, exposing his body to the fading light, unwinding them as she moved around him. “Almost like undressing a man,” she mused whimsically.

When the vines lay in long tendrils on the ground, she stepped between his bent thighs and stared into his face. Here wasn’t the bug-eyed gargoyle she’d expected, but rather he wore a warrior’s fierce grimace, frightening in its intensity.

She smoothed her fingertips over his heavy brow, caressed the sharp blades of his cheekbones and blunt nose, and traced the curve of his thinned upper lip and the surprising fullness of the lower.

“How would such a man’s lips feel beneath mine?” she whispered.

She glanced over her shoulder at the house that seemed farther away than it had when she’d first entered the garden but found no curious glance trained her way through the windows.

She shook her head, her mouth curving slightly. “If Mr. Spalding sees anything, I will tell them it must have been someone else.”

Turning back, she gripped the tops of the figure’s broad shoulders, stood on her toes, and grazed his mouth with hers. The texture of the warm stone was soft, deceptively malleable, but perhaps it was only the give of her own lips as she brushed over his again.

She dropped down, her glance following the flow of her hands as she cupped and molded the densely muscled chest, swept over the hard whorls of hair, marveling over the detail. The abdomen, a study of tautly ribbed slabs, caused her breaths to deepen and her imagination to imbue them with life that rippled gently beneath her caress.

Downward she trailed her hand, halting just above the whorls framing the phallus, and again, she noted the veins tracing along the long shaft, the finely carved cap, so smoothly sanded there wasn’t a single rough edge or bump to mar the surface. Her hand smoothed up, then down, then dropped away. She’d gone too far.

The engorged state of the statue tempted her beyond common sense. Beyond her own natural modesty. Moisture dampened her sex. Her heart fluttered. Her breaths betrayed a ragged texture.

Waning sunlight glimmered through the trees, flashing bright orange, then faded. Darkness settled around the garden, and still there were no lights beaming from the house.

No one could see her in this dark, lonely garden. No one would be disgusted or repulsed by the impulse that burned inside her.

She’d lived alone so long, repressed desires that were natural for a woman, due to the curse that kept her separate from others.

Her touch couldn’t arouse this beast-man, couldn’t incite him to rape. For once, she could pretend she was any other girl, learning the wonder of completion with something other than her own fingers. She could pretend she held a lover inside her embrace, one who wouldn’t be so consumed with lust that her pleasure was forgotten. She could take what she desired to serve her own needs.

Petra stepped backwards and dropped her gaze from his stony, unseeing glance, nevertheless embarrassed by what she contemplated. Just once, she’d heed the urge. Just once, she’d dare something indescribably erotic. Tomorrow, she’d be surrounded by the workers the executor had hired to complete refurbishing the house, and again, she’d hide her true nature within gloves.

She opened her blouse, her fingers gliding down the row of buttons. Her bra opened with a deft twist, and she dropped both items onto the ground beside her. She stepped from her slide-on mules, unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her hips.

When she was naked, she succumbed to the urge to cover her breasts as she approached the statue. At the last moment, she reached behind her head and removed the clasp, letting her hair fall like warm silk between her shoulder blades.

The bend of his upper thighs made a convenient perch, and she stepped onto one thigh then slid her left leg around his waist. Holding his shoulders again, she squatted over his cock, finding the nudge of the warmed marble, and circled her pussy over the blunt tip.

The feeling was indescribable. And almost enough to send her over the edge. She did it again, moaning when liquid seeped from inside her to anoint the rigid tip. Growing more breathless, she knew she must slow down, must breathe, must savor this moment because she didn’t know if she’d ever find the courage to try this again.

Wrapping her hands around his thick neck, she leaned toward him, kissing his open lips, sucking on the lower, pretending he was alive and responsive to her overtures. And she sank, slowly, her slick folds consuming his cock, inch by inch, her moisture and warmth heating up the thick phallic stone she rode as she began to move on him.

Her heartbeats quickened, growing louder. “Can you hear them?” she whispered. “Can you hear my heartbeats? How they tremble for you, my gargoyle?”

Petra rose and fell, her body melting inside and out, growing slick with desire and sweat. Her breasts rubbed against his stone chest, chafing softly, her nipples blooming. Her belly undulated, rocking slightly forward and back as she thrust downward, her inner walls stretching to surround him.

He filled her, the notches of his hips and the strength of his shaft supported her as her limbs weakened the closer to release she climbed.

Her eyelids fluttered downward, and her mouth gaped open as fine ripples began to climb along her inner walls, vibrating around his solid cock. And then her mind flew, imagining a pulsing tension emanating from the cock lodged so deeply inside her, imagining that the stone gave slightly as she sank then rocked, shallowly stroking inside her.

It wasn’t until something soft caressed her shoulders and back that she opened her eyes.

The expression of her stone gargoyle was no longer gray and frozen, but dark and taut; his dark eyes stared back at her. The wings were no longer spread, but folded forward, surrounding her in heat and trapping her against his body as he brought her to the ground.

But it was too late to scream because her orgasm erupted, bowing her back, shoving her pelvis hard against her demon lover’s as the rhythmic pulsing swept over her body, causing her to tremble and moan.

With the corners of his lips curving upward, Petra’s heart thudded against her chest. Indeed, her curse was so vile she’d incited lust and awoken a stone god.

I love my Uncharted SEALs series. All have rugged, alpha heroes. All have strong heroines. Humor. Action. All the ingredients that make the stories fun for me to write, and hopefully, fun for you as well.

With Uncharted SEALs, I experimented a bit. For the first time, I did sequels with the same characters—for the simple reason I couldn’t say goodbye to them. I wanted to see inside their Happy Ever Afters. Through Her Eyes and Between a SEAL and a Hard Place share the same main characters, as do Dream of Me and Heart of a SEAL. Big Sky SEAL gave birth to my Montana Bounty Hunters, introducing Jamie and Reaper, who as a result of their work in Big Sky earned their own satellite office of MBH.

A fun theme I used in two of the stories was a cruise ship. Both Before We Kiss and Hard SEAL to Love are set on the same ship, and have the same supporting characters. You’ll meet the old guys in the scene below. Hope you enjoy it!

   

   

  

Click on the covers to learn more!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Uncharted SEALs stories! There will be 3 winners! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

If you could go anywhere in the world, what would be your cruise destination?

Before We Kiss

Navy SEAL, William “Wiley” Coyote, should have known his “piece of cake” assignment would go sideways in a hurry. But he’d been lured by the promise of an all-expenses-paid cruise. A nice “fluffy” assignment after the last one spent escorting freighters through pirate-infested waters in the Strait of Hormuz.

A general’s daughter, Poppy Shackleford, wasn’t some spoiled daughter of a man made famous for defeating insurgent forces. She’d endured her own tragedies—the loss of her mother when she was young and her father stationed in Afghanistan, and the loss of her fiancé after he’d sustained wounds in Iraq—not from the physical wounds that had claimed his two legs—he’d taken his own life. His death was why Poppy was involved in Soldiers’ Sanctuary, a non-profit that helped disabled soldiers adjust to their new circumstances. Her mission in life is to see that no veteran of war would ever feel so alone, so hopeless he’d choose her dead fiancé’s path. Which was why, despite the current threats against her father, she was on this cruise, assessing the ship’s ability to accommodate the soldiers rather than sending a surrogate.

However, the first threat doesn’t come from terrorists with an axe to grind. Mexican banditos stop her tour bus heading toward Mayan ruins to shake down the passengers for their money and belongings. When one snaps a picture of her, he soon figures out there’s a much bigger payday. She knows she’s going to be kidnapped, but she didn’t know someone was on that same tour bus who had her back.

Wiley’s unconventional takedown of her would-be kidnappers exposes the fact her father didn’t honor her wishes to fly under the radar. And now that the cat’s out of the bag, Wiley’s made it clear he’s moving into her suite for the rest of their time at sea to keep her out of harm’s way.

Excerpt from Before We Kiss…

William “Wiley” Coyote should have known the “piece of cake” assignment his team leader, Deke Warrick, offered him would go sideways in a hurry. But he’d been lured by the promise of an all-expenses-paid cruise. A nice “fluffy” assignment after the last one spent escorting freighters through pirate-infested waters in the Strait of Hormuz. He was due a vacation, and he’d envisioned slipping into a chaise on the cruise ship’s deck while his target sunbathed nearby. Something his team leader had warned him might not be in the cards. After all, Deke’d had a similar, simple assignment when he’d been tasked with protecting a girl. And look what it had gotten his buddy. Shot at. Then married. Happily, it seemed.

Not that Wiley had marriage on his mind. No, sir. Not him. Everything he owned was stuffed into a duffle bag. He lived in hotel rooms, tents, and, now, a cruise boat cabin. No, he had nothing to offer a bride. Marriage wasn’t something in his cards. And certainly not to some celebutante who couldn’t keep her picture off multiple social media sites on a daily basis. That sort of exposure, even by association, would be deadly in his line of business.

He’d listened intently when Deke outlined his assignment, determined to keep this job all business, despite the photos that had spilled from the envelope during his initial briefing.

“Every time she steps out of her suite, the room attendant will buzz you. You keep on her tail, but not close enough she notices. Her daddy said she’d raise hell if she knew he’d hired security after she refused a special detail.” At that point, Deke had grinned. “I think he’s a little afraid of her.”

Wiley hadn’t smiled. Instead, he’d grunted. General Shackleford wasn’t any lightweight desk-jockey. He’d seen his share of action.

The ship had barely left the Port of Miami before Wiley understood. The woman never stopped moving. Or talking. Sometimes loudly, if she didn’t like what she heard. If he could have worn earplugs, possibly his first impressions of her would have been very different.

Poppy Shackleford was a pretty little thing. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, lightly tanned, curves in all the right places. And maybe five-foot-two in her espadrille sandals. He’d had a girlfriend charge two pairs to his credit card years ago, so he knew darn well what they were and how much the cork-heeled things cost. Although he could appreciate the sexy curves the three-inch heels gave her toned calves, he wasn’t risking getting any closer. So far, he’d managed to operate under the radar. He had no doubts she’d know exactly what he was there to do if she got one good look at him. Nothing escaped her attention. Not the too-steep ramps leading onto the ship when they’d embarked. Nor the undercooked steak she’d been served last night in the dining room.

He’d begun to think she was deaf because she talked so loudly, but then he’d realized her complaints were on behalf of her fellow passengers, and this cruise had been billed as senior-themed. Most of the thousand passengers on board were over seventy. The dinner conversation surrounding him last night consisted of tracking blood sugar levels as his companions pricked their fingertips and fed droplets of blood into their readers. Afterwards, their conversation drifted to the best fiber to promote healthy bowels and where the captain would store their bodies if they happened to pass during the night.

“No kidding?” Deke had said after Wiley’s status update early that morning.

Wiley’s jaw ground shut at the snickering no hand over a receiver could muffle. “The Countess cruise line’s security seems pretty tight. Someone is always nearby, although they’re better at blending in than I am.”

“You mean you didn’t pack any Hawaiian shirts?”

“Don’t own one,” he’d gritted out.

“How are you keeping from blowing your cover?”

Wiley grunted. “I haven’t shaved, and I have on my cowboy hat and boots.”

“So you’re sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“She won’t expect a security detail to blend in quite like I do.”

Deke grunted. “Just remember you have people positioned around the ship. Channel two if you need them.”

Which would be great if his assignment was actually aboard the ship. The farther into the jungle their tour bus drove, the deeper his concern grew. They were on an excursion to view Mayan ruins. Anywhere along their route would be a great place for an ambush. The two security people provided by the cruise line to accompany his target were in good shape, but he could tell neither was armed. Conventional weapons were impossible to smuggle aboard the ship, and the weapons kept under lock and key aboard the vessel wouldn’t have been permitted for this little jaunt.

And why were they out here? If he remembered right, the pyramids weren’t exactly wheelchair-friendly. But he knew Poppy was thorough, that she took her tour coordinator job seriously. No stone would be left unturned. No tour unvetted, personally, by her.

He’d read the dossier Charter Group had put together. Poppy Shackleford, daughter of Lieutenant General Randall Shackleford, wasn’t some spoiled daughter of a famous man. She’d endured her own tragedies—the loss of her mother when she was young and her father stationed in Afghanistan, the loss of her fiancé after he’d sustained wounds in Iraq, although not from the physical wounds that had claimed both his legs. Frank Sutton, who’d been despondent over the loss, had killed himself.

His death was why Poppy was involved in Soldiers’ Sanctuary, a non-profit that helped disabled soldiers adjust to their new circumstances, whether supporting wounded vets with additional therapies the VA was slow or unable to provide, or seeking the latest in prosthetics and mobility devices. And the organization provided mentorship, one wounded soldier to another, to ensure no veteran of war would feel so alone, so hopeless, they’d choose Frank Sutton’s path.

Wiley understood and admired her for not simply crying then moving on, but embracing a cause that might help others. However, today he wished she wasn’t quite so determined to make it impossible for him to protect her. Not that she had a clue he was there. If she’d glanced toward the back of the air-conditioned bus, all she might have noted was one dark head amid a sea of white, gray, and blue.

The fellow seated next to him gave another narrow-eyed, flinty glance.

Wiley aimed a frown his way, hoping the old guy would mind his own business. The man was burly, surprisingly muscled for an old dude.

He leaned sideways in his seat and whispered, “Name’s Joseph Olinsky, but you can call me Joe. I’m a Marine.” He nodded toward the head of the bus where Poppy stood beside the tour guide, asking questions. “She someone important?”

Not as invisible as I thought. Wiley blinked. “No, sir. I think she’s just another passenger. A noisy one.”

Shaking his head, Joe grunted. “She has a detail. That guy with a clipboard ain’t a cruise director. I’d say he’s ex-Navy, probably a SEAL. Has a trident tattoo on his upper arm. Saw it when he was stowing her backpack into the overhead.”

Knowing there was no use convincing Joe he was just a guy on a trip to see a pyramid, Wiley gave him another look. He recognized the type—his dad had been the same steady, patriotic sort. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Maybe he did need backup, should shit go sideways. “You’re right,” he murmured. “The cruise line provided her security.”

“What about you?” his gray-haired companion asked.

“Name’s Wiley, and I was Navy.”

“A SEAL,” he said, nodding. “Can’t hide that look. Everyone else, besides her, has been taking a nap. Not you. You’ve been watching the road ahead. Expect trouble?”

“Not expecting, but prepared.”

Joe nodded. “Don’t get along as well as I used to,” he said, patting his right knee. “But I can be another set of eyes. And I do know who she is, son. She’s the daughter of that general ISIS wants taken out. They had his face and his daughter’s plastered all over Facebook faster than Homeland and the FBI could take down the pages.”

Wiley almost smiled at how in tune the old guy was. “Nothing much gets past you, does it?”

Joe lifted his chin toward two older gentlemen seated across the aisle from them.

Wiley glanced over to find both old codgers staring back.

“We were in the same division, the 3rd, during Vietnam. We’re all that’s left of our company. Try to take a trip every couple of years. Went to Nam five years back. There were eight of us then.”
Wiley nodded his understanding.

“That’s Morty,” he said, pointing at the thin one with a round belly. “The other one’s Sly.”

Sly gave him a grin that displayed unnaturally white teeth.

Wiley gave both men a nod then turned his attention back to the front of the bus.

“She know you’re tailing her?”

How had the old guys figured out he was there for Poppy? He remembered how the old men had jostled him, cutting him from the rest of the group when they’d boarded the bus. He’d thought it unintentional, but now knew they’d meant to be seated beside him. Admiring their cunning, he shook his head. “She doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway.”

“Need a better cover,” Joe said, eyeing his boots and the scruff on his chin. “Could tell folks you’re my grandson.”

Wiley chuckled. Sounded like a better plan than the one he’d started with. “Just don’t get in the way. If things go down…”

“You could use another set of eyes—between the three of us, we might just make one good pair.” Joe tilted his head toward his buddies.

This time, Wiley laughed.

Joe grinned and gave a slow nod to his companions, who settled back in their seats and now directed their attention to the job at hand—and the woman wearing the pretty blue dress at the front of the bus.

Suddenly, the bus shuddered and slowed. Cries arose from those seated near the front.

“Fat’s in the fire now,” Morty said, pointing forward.

Wiley cussed. A pickup was parked sideways in the middle of the road. He began to rise, but then he noted the four men standing in front of the truck. All dark, but with features that were clearly Mestizo. So, bandits rather than terrorists. He settled back in his seat. He’d let this play out a bit before he gave himself away. As long as no one was hurt, he’d keep his cover.

UPDATE: The winner is…Susan Landowski!
*~*~*

All the Kindle Worlds are gone. 🙁 As a result, I’m repurposing stories that lived in other authors’ worlds and getting ready to republish them. One story I can never repurpose, because it’s solidly locked inside another world, is a piece of fan fiction I wrote for The Vampire Diaries. I was invited to write a story for the world, and Amazon even mailed me the first four seasons of the show (the only seasons available at the time) for me to immerse myself in the Diaries. Unbelievably, I’d never watched the show. I binge-watched with my dd and her husband, and then had to dream up a story that could have happened—like an episode of the show.

Since I can never repurpose this enough to sell and not run into copyright issues, I’ll be giving this one away to my newsletter subscribers. So, if you aren’t already a subscriber, here’s the link: Delilah’s Newsletter.

Contest

My original story had an uninspiring title—Making Amends. It centers around Damon and a creature he encounters. Read the excerpt, then try to think of something better than what I had. I thought maybe, Woman on Fire, but yuk. Offer a suggestion—good or bad, it’ll still count!—and you could win a $5 Amazon gift card!

Untitled

Damon knew something was afoot the moment the door closed behind him. The usual soft snick of the lock was replaced by a dull, echoing thud. Instantly all senses went on alert.

Tilting his head, he concentrated, listening to the sounds of the old boarding house, dismissing the usual creaks and groans, and then narrowing his focus to anything living—anything with a heartbeat. No sounds alerted him. He raised his head and sniffed, but beyond dust and the odor from an open whiskey decanter, he detected nothing. And yet, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Never one to ignore his instincts, he let the change come over him, his fangs descending from his gums, and his face and body tightening as he allowed his bloodlust to overtake him, giving him added strength to greet whatever might be lurking in the evening shadows.

An amused snort sounded beside him, and he shot a glance toward the sound. Nothing.

Although he’d relish a fight, the speed at which this mysterious creature apparently moved removed that option. Better to know his foe before engaging in a battle…

He shook his head, retracting his teeth, his thoughts racing, but only in anticipation of a challenge. Not from fear. For him to fear, he had to give a damn about his un-life. He stepped deeper into the house. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang softly and narrowed his eyes.

A soft caress, lighter than a stir of air, touched his shoulder. A thin giggle sounded, high-pitched, young, moving from behind him, then retreating toward the large open living room. Logs shifted on the fireplace, then burst into flames, and for the first time, Damon saw the outline of something, a translucent echo of an image, as it shimmered in front of the fire, and then moved fluidly and quickly away, disappearing against the gloomy paneled walls and heavy furnishings. Legs, a torso, but beyond that it had moved too quickly, and oddly meltingly, for him to discern more of its shape.

“You are female,” he drawled, pretending unconcern, when he knew whatever had joined him in the house wasn’t benevolent. Just a hunch, but he knew.

“Am I?” came a voice, hoarse and deep, whispering into his ear.

Damon held still. He hadn’t felt a gust of breath, so whatever was here in this room wasn’t living, wasn’t breathing, since he’d felt no glint of recognition—not a vampire using some sort of glamour to mask his or her presence. Also unlike any ghosts he had encountered, which tended to appear as their former selves. What the hell was it? “You are…male, then?”

“What would be the point of that?” came a breathier whisper.

Damon quirked up one side of his mouth. “Do I know you?”

“Wrong question.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Did I know you?”

Breathless laughter rang around him, from just in front of him and then to the fireplace where flames licked outwardly before bouncing back as the tinkling laughter faded, nearing him again.

Damon felt almost dizzy from the frenetic movements of the entity. “Maybe I should leave you to your amusements, since I’m tired of this game.”

“Not a game, not a game,” came a singsong voice, still androgynously husky.

But decidedly female since he was intrigued. Damon drew a deep breath and strode toward the sideboard to pour a drink. No movements or sounds intruded, so he took a seat on a leather couch and drank, breathing in the sublime scent of 50-year-old whiskey while he pondered this latest mystery.

“Female, maybe,” he said softly. “Not human. Not vampire. . . .” He raised his voice slightly. “Not ghost.”

“Clever, clever.” The seat beside him sank, the indention pointed rather than a smooth curve like a round bottom sitting.

He stared at that point. “Won’t you introduce yourself?”

The point slid toward him, a faint groove marking the dark leather, until it skipped to his thigh. Damon felt the sharpness, like the dull side of a knife’s blade as it skimmed one thigh, then trailed upward, jumping to the arm holding the drink, up to his shoulder, then across his face to his mouth. There was sizzling heat in the scrape.

Instinctively, he gasped, then quickly pressed his lips together to keep whatever was touching him from entering. He arched a brow, not wanting the creature to see his unease.

The point scratched his bottom lip, drawing blood, and then left. The shimmer touched the fire in the hearth and crouched there, holding still for the first time while its form continued to glint red, orange, white, and blue, until it slowly solidified, colors dulling, but its form revealing its true nature.

Damon held perfectly still, his drink dangling from frozen fingers as he tried to gather his scattered wits. Cold spilled down his spine.

Although her appearance was strangely altered, he recognized her. How could he not? He’d killed hundreds of women, maybe thousands, but who was counting? Too many to remember all their faces. But he’d never forgotten his first meal. The one who’d made him a vampire.

UPDATE: The winner is…Peggy Harrington!
*~*~*

Thought you might like to see what I’ve released so far this year—just in case you missed it! I published the last three Texas Cowboys stories, the entire Triplehorn Brand series, three more Montana Bounty Hunters, a couple of Colorado cowboy stories, one multi-author anthology, and just one short story! I have to pick up the pace for the rest of the year! Think I can do it? I don’t know, I did just hit 60… 🙂

1. 01/02/18 – BOUND & DETERMINED, Texas Cowboys series
2. 01/23/18 – SLOW RIDER, Texas Cowboys series
3. 02/13/18 – NIGHT WATCH, Texas Cowboys series
4. 02/27/18 – PIRATES, A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology
5. 03/06/18 – LAYING DOWN THE LAW, The Triplehorn Brand series
6. 03/08/18 – DAGGER, Montana Bounty Hunters series
7. 03/20/18 – IN TOO DEEP, The Triplehorn Brand series
8. 04/03/18 – A LONG, HOT SUMMER, The Triplehorn Brand series
9. 04/05/18 – REAPER’S RIDE, Montana Bounty Hunters series
10. 04/27/18 – THE BOUNTY-2, short story
11. 05/11/18 – TRUE HEART
12. 05/22/18 – LONE HEART
13. 06/26/18 – COCHISE, Montana Bounty Hunters series

I have favorites among these stories for differing reasons…

My favorite covers? In Too Deep is just gorgeous! Cochise is sexy as hell!

 

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My favorite characters? Reaper is a grumpy hard-ass, who can show a surprisingly tender side to his wife, Carly. I made him suffer in Reaper’s Ride! And then there’s Lacey Jones from Dagger… I haven’t had that much fun writing an introduction to a story in a very long time. If you want to read that intro, head here. My “Bounty Hunter Barbie” is unique.

 

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My favorite stories? What can I say, I love writing bounty hunters. I love writing the action-packed takedowns of stupid criminals. They are a blast to write. My bounty hunter stories are chock-full of action!

 

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My sexiest story? Hands down, it’s The Bounty-Part 2, because for the shorties, I let the “dirty girl” out to play!

What’s coming?

Coming soon, I have two more bounty hunter stories in the works, Hook (I’m shooting for August), and a crossover with my SEAL stories, S*x on the Beach (coming in September). I’m revising the hell out of a fantasy story, Gargoyle’s Embrace (coming in July). All three are up for pre-order. As well, I’ll be writing a new shorty, Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Client. So sexy times are coming. This fall, I’ll give you the next With His SEAL Team installment. So, be sure to check back in with me!

  

Contest

The projects I have listed above aren’t going to keep me busy, so I was wondering what else you might like to see from me. Want more bounty hunters? Texas cowboys? Witches, vamps, or werewolves? More SEALs?  Comment below for a chance to win one of the stories I’ve released so far this year. Your choice!

The winner of the free download is…Elysian Fields!
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The fourth story in my Montana Bounty Hunters series is here!

Cochise centers around a very sexy bounty hunter, who falls for a cop who has a beef with bounty hunters—until she needs their help. The story also catches you up on Jamie & Sky (and their dog, Tessa), and Dagger & Lacey. The story is hot, has plenty of humor, and exciting takedowns! I hope you love it!

If you have time, tell a friend about this story and, maybe, write a review. Readers trust other readers to let them know whether they should take a chance on a their next book boyfriend. If you love the stories, let someone know. And thanks!

Enjoy! ~DD

Cochise

Cochise
Montana Bounty Hunters, Book #4

Former Army sniper, Cochise Mercier, left Denver SWAT under a cloud of controversy, which was why he ended up back home in Montana, and where he heard about the Montana Bounty Hunters. The “cloud” didn’t seem to bother his new boss, so he’s “all in” and finding he enjoys hunting down fugitives for bounties, encumbered by fewer rules.

Sammy McCallister is a by-the-book sheriff’s deputy, who has a beef with bounty hunters. Forced to stand by with her gun in her holster, while hunters take down scumbags, she’s particularly irked by the new guy in town. Cochise, with his long black hair and thousand-yard-stare makes her uncomfortable, itchy in ways she’s never felt before. When she finds herself needing his help late one night, the reason for her irritation becomes all too clear. She wants him. But first, they have to make it out of the mountains alive…

Get your copy here!

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For a chance to win one of the first three stories in the
Montana Bounty Hunter series, answer me this…

Have you read any bounty hunter stories? Have you watched a bounty hunter movie or TV show?

  

I thought you might like to see what’s coming! All are part of the Montana Bounty Hunters series, so you know they’re going to be fun!

Coming June 26th!

Former Army sniper, Cochise Mercier, left Denver SWAT under a cloud of controversy, which was why he ended up back home in Montana, and where he heard about the Montana Bounty Hunters. The “cloud” didn’t seem to bother his new boss, so he’s all in and finding he enjoys hunting down fugitives for bounties, encumbered by fewer rules.

Sammy McCallister is a by-the-book sheriff’s deputy, who has a beef with bounty hunters. Forced to stand by with her gun in her holster, while hunters take down scumbags, she’s particularly irked by the new guy in town. Cochise, with his long black hair and thousand-yard-stare makes her uncomfortable, itchy in ways she’s never felt before. When she finds herself needing his help, the reason for her irritation becomes all too clear. She wants him. But first, they must make it out of the mountains alive…

Pre-order your copy here!

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Coming August 21st!

Former Army Ranger, Dylan “Hook” Hoecker, has a new job along with a new prosthetic arm. Being a bounty hunter is the closest career field he could find as a civilian that gives him the adrenaline rush that is his addiction. So, when his first solo assignment is to keep an eye on a flight risk the boss bonded out of jail, he’s not thrilled. However, he soon discovers a fresh addiction–one mouthy, nerdy redhead, who resists his attempts to keep her out of trouble.

Felicity Gronkowski is grateful for the bone the head of Montana Bounty Hunter threw her. She didn’t have the money to pay for bail, but he has a soft spot for former military, and she bartered to install a new computer system in his satellite office in Bear Lodge. Being on the outside of jail was her first imperative because she has to figure out who framed her for a series of high-end robberies while she worked installing home security systems. However, her bounty-hunting babysitter isn’t giving her any slack. Every time she thinks she’s given him the slip, he’s one step ahead of her. Either she has to find the perfect method of distraction to escape him or she has to enlist his help to clear her name.

Pre-order your copy here!

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Coming September 11th!

Navy SEAL Carson Walsh is ready to live the good life. After surviving fifteen deployments in ten years, he bailed on the SEALs figuring this cat had run out of lives. Now living in Cabo San Lucas, the only danger he faces is choking on an oyster or drowning in beer–and then he meets her.

Gina Tripp is the Calamity Jane of bounty hunters. She’s the stand-in for an absent groom on her girlfriend’s honeymoon in Cabo when she meets a cute guy with nothing but sex on the beach in mind. But she has her sights set on scoring a huge bounty–an ex-pat skip hiding out in Mexico. All she has to do is figure out how to perform her own extradition of her target. One drunken night later and a wild ride on a drug-runner’s plane, she’s pretty relieved she hijacked a Navy SEAL to help her with the job, even if he’s an unwilling participant who has to put his rusty skills to use to keep them both alive.

Pre-order your copy here!

Next week, the fourth book in the Montana Bounty Hunters series hits Amazon! Cochise is more of what readers have been loving—a hot as hell bounty hunter who doesn’t like rules, a strong heroine worthy of our hero, and an action-packed story! Oh, and there are plenty of sexy times, too! Read the opening of the story below. Then be sure to catch up on books one through three! Get ready for a wild ride!

Former Army sniper, Cochise Mercier, left Denver SWAT under a cloud of controversy, which was why he ended up back home in Montana, and where he heard about the Montana Bounty Hunters. The “cloud” didn’t seem to bother his new boss, so he’s all in and finding he enjoys hunting down fugitives for bounties, encumbered by fewer rules.

Sammy McCallister is a by-the-book sheriff’s deputy, who has a beef with bounty hunters. Forced to stand by with her gun in her holster, while hunters take down scumbags, she’s particularly irked by the new guy in town. Cochise, with his long black hair and thousand-yard-stare makes her uncomfortable, itchy in ways she’s never felt before. When she finds herself needing his help, the reason for her irritation becomes all too clear. She wants him. But first, they have to make it out of the mountains alive…

Pre-order your copy here!

Cochise Mercier, the new hire at Montana Bounty Hunters, took a deep breath to force his heart to slow its pace. A trick he’d learned as an Army sniper to make sure a jerking breath didn’t mess up a shot. The trick worked in most situations when he needed his mind to slow and for his focus to home in on a target or a situation. Clearing his mind meant he was able to take in more of what was happening around him and enabled him to discard the things that weren’t important—like the way the wind beat a tree branch against the side of the house, a steady thump that sounded almost like clomping footsteps. Instead, he concentrated on the way the light, beaming through the tall arched windows at the front of the house, flickered whenever his target paced left or right, telling him where their mark was. An important fact, because in seconds, he’d have to breach the oak front door and be ready to take him down—with his weapon or his body, depending on whether Randy Pinter was armed. A fact Cochise would have to ascertain in a split second.

“Can’t see any movement in the back rooms,” came Jamie Burke’s voice through his earpiece. “I think he’s alone.”

He still wasn’t used to hearing a woman’s voice on the comms. He’d never had a female as part of any of his missions on the ground with the Army, and Denver’s SWAT had, at the time, been all male. That voice interrupted his calm. His instinct was to protect women and children, but she was a part of this team—and his boss—so again, he drew a deep breath, pushed aside his concern, and concentrated on his target. Pinter was pacing in front of the window to the right of the front door.

“Girlfriend’s car isn’t in the garage,” came Sky Reynold’s deep voice. “Must have gone for takeout. I’m moving around to the front.”

“Deputies just arrived,” Lacey Jones’s too perky voice sounded. “I’ll go brief them about what’s about to go down. Make sure they know we have the owner’s permission to be here.”

Cochise could hear the excitement in her higher pitch. Thank God, she was back at the road with the vehicles. The thought of her cotton-candy sweetness being anywhere near Pinter made him shudder. The girl might have qualified with her weapon and might be doing well with her self-defense classes, but she had no real experience going head-on with bad dudes. He didn’t want to be around the first time she was truly tested.

“You call it, Cochise,” Jamie said.

With his heart as slow as when he slept, he felt the familiar ice-water chill flow over him. “Ready,” he whispered and then stepped away from the bushes beside the porch. “Moving toward the door… On three. One…two…three.”

He pounded three times on the door. “Federal Recovery Agent! Get down on the floor!”

Then, just as they’d rehearsed, Sky popped up, used a short cudgel to break the right front window, and tossed a flashbang grenade through the opening he’d made.

Cochise turned his back and crouched beside the door. A split second later, he heard the explosion and a muffled shout. He stood and swung the battering ram against the thick front door. The frame around the door splintered. He tossed the ram and kicked the thick oak, waiting as it slammed forward against dark wood flooring. Then pulling his weapon from its holster, he stepped onto the door into the foyer.

Inside, he saw no sign of Pinter. “Not in foyer. Moving to living room.”

“I’m coming your way,” Jamie said, and then a moment later, “Mudroom, clear. I’ll check the garage.”

Sky stepped to the right. “I’ll take the kitchen.”

Cochise headed through the living room. “Living room clear.” Then he moved toward the room farther to the left—a study he’d peered inside earlier. He shoved open the door, stepped to the side, then quickly darted through the opening, bending low as he entered. He glanced behind a sofa, opened the closet. “Clear.”

“Clear in the kitchen,” said Sky. “Moving toward the stairs.”

Cochise cleared the downstairs bathroom, another hallway closet, and then ran up the stairs. Just as he reached the darkened landing, he saw Sky back out of a bedroom and shake his head. Cochise signaled that he’d head right toward what he suspected was the master bedroom, while Sky took a smaller bedroom at the other end of the hallway. Cochise unclipped his Maglite from his web belt and shone it down the darkened hallway.

“Garage clear,” Jamie said.

“Make sure the bastard didn’t circle around to the backyard.” Lacey and Dagger had the road and yard fence line covered, and both were quiet.

Just as he reached out to turn the door handle for the master bedroom, Sky whispered, “Clear.” Cochise tensed. Last possible place.

Pinter must have shot up the steps the second the window was broken. Slippery bastard. Something they’d learned talking to the cops who’d arrested him for a home invasion. The fact the judge had awarded him bail after he’d led the police on a three-mile foot race through backyards, over fences, and through busy intersections, where he’d nearly lost the cops, had the entire team shaking their heads. The $500,000 bail must have seemed an impossible goal for a two-time loser, but the prosecutor hadn’t looked closely enough at the family to raise an argument. They hadn’t known the grandfather doted on the prick. He’d willingly used his ranch to secure the bond.

Why Pinter had chosen a life of crime was beyond Cochise. He came from money, dated money, and now, he was facing decades in jail after beating up a couple he’d robbed at gunpoint for a measly sixty dollars and a wedding ring.

Sky came up beside him, a shotgun loaded with beanbag rounds raised, with the stock against his shoulder, and cupping a flashlight against the barrel. He gave Cochise a nod.

Cochise quietly turned the knob then shoved it open. Sky preceded him through the door, turning his body to the left then the right.

Cochise went to the bed and flipped the mattress off the frame. Nobody huddled under it. He quietly slid open the nightstand drawer, the place where Mr. Anderson said he kept a handgun. Shining the light inside the drawer, Cochise noted it was empty, except for a bag of cough drops and loose change. Catching Sky’s glance, he shook his head.

He moved to the bathroom door while Sky sped to the walk-in closet.

As he turned the handle, he heard the scuff of a foot and froze. Withdrawing his hand, he signaled to Sky, who quickly edged to the opposite side of the door.

Pinter had plenty of warning they were there. He had no place left to hide. Likely had the gun. Cochise’s best route would be to get him to surrender.

“Randy,” Cochise called out, “you’re not getting out of this house. We’re bounty hunters, and we’ve been tracking you for days. A whole goddamn team to take down your sorry ass. We have deputies in the road out front in case you decide to be stupid. You’re not going to be stupid, are you?”

Sky moved a step backward. “We think we have him cornered in the upstairs bathroom,” he whispered to the team. “Get eyes on the side of the house beneath the window.”

“Already there,” Dagger said.

Sky moved closer.

“Buddy,” Cochise said, keeping an even tone. “Your best move is to come out with your hands up where we can see them.”

Ten seconds passed. Not a sound came from behind the closed door.

Again, Cochise reached out and gripped the knob. It was locked. Stepping in front of the door, he raised a foot.

But he heard a click and pitched to the side. An explosion ripped through the door.

On his back on the floor, Cochise stared at a circle with splintered edges right where he’d been standing a second earlier. He rolled to his feet, his weapon aimed at the hole.

“What the fuck?” Jamie shouted in his ear. “Coming up the stairs.”

“Deputies are running for the house,” Lacey said sounding breathless, like she was running, too.

In the distance, he heard several sets of footsteps stomping quickly up the stairs. No way was he letting the women anywhere near this vicious pig. He aimed at the door. “Better get on the ground, Pinter.” Then he fired two shots, just to make sure the dirtbag was taking cover, and kicked in the door.

Inside the room, he made out the glint of metal coming from around the side of the shower stall. He ducked into the stall as a shot fired. Then he darted out again, reaching out his left hand as the handgun appeared around the corner. With his back to Pinter, he gripped the weapon, shoving it, and the hand that held it, to the side. A shot hit the toilet, shattering porcelain. Water spilled out onto the floor.

A punch landed against his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs, but Cochise didn’t let go of the gun, he spun and shoved the hand holding the gun against the edge of the stall.

The gun clattered away.

More punches hit his sides—much good that did, because his Kevlar vest took the blows—but Cochise couldn’t end this while all he held was Pinter’s hand. He jerked Pinter forward then backed him into the shower stall, crushing him against the tile with his body, unable to turn because he still held his own weapon outstretched. With his elbow, he beat backwards, catching Pinter in his sides.

Searing pain in the corner of his shoulder sucked away what was left of his breath. “Motherfucker, did you bite me?”

He beat back his elbow and aimed a backward kick at a knee.

The lights to the bathroom flashed on.

Sky filled the doorway, his glance taking in the gun on the floor. He moved forward and reached out. Gladly, Cochise gave him his weapon, and then turned and pummeled Pinter, clipping him in the jaw, the ribs, then giving him another punch to the jaw.

As Randy Pinter sagged toward the gray stone floor of the shower, Cochise kept his fists balled. But Pinter’s eyelids lowered, and his jaw relaxed.

A clap against his shoulder made him wince. “Think we have him,” Sky said.

Cochise lowered his eyebrows. “We?”

Sky grinned. “Hey, I freed your hand.”

“Fucker.”

“Tell me that wasn’t satisfying.”

Cochise grunted.

Just then, Jamie rounded the corner, two deputies crowding in behind her. One tall, burly male and a female with scraped back hair and angry eyes.

Suddenly, the spacious bathroom was too crowded.

“Do we have to call an ambulance?” Jamie asked.

Sky leaned over Pinter and ran his hands over his body, doing a quick search for weapons. When he straightened, he aimed a kick at his hip.

Pinter stirred and moaned.

“Nope, he’s conscious,” Sky said, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Jail’s just fifteen minutes away. They can take him to the ER to be checked out.”

Cochise bent and rested his hands on his knees, dragging in deep breaths to clear his head of the anger still pounding through him.

Jamie came up beside him and plucked at the neck of his tee. “Too bad he didn’t get a mouthful of Kevlar. That has to hurt. Buddy, you might need stiches. Sky and I will make sure this one gets to jail. Your vehicle’s still back at the office; I can have Lacey take you to the ER.”

Cochise straightened, inwardly cursing the fact his truck was back at the agency parking lot. He’d ridden with Sky and Jamie on the way over.

“I’d love to,” Lacey said, her blonde head peering around the corner, “but I can’t wait on you. Dagger and I have to drive to Whitefish to meet up with Reaper. He texted that he’s found Wallace’s hideout.” She gave a hundred-watt smile. “We’re riding into the mountains on horseback.”

Jamie groaned. “Good Lord. Last time Reaper was on horseback, he nearly drowned in a stock pond.”

“You can drop me at my truck. I can get myself to the ER,” Cochise said, and warmed to the idea. Anything to avoid listening to Dagger give Bounty Hunter Barbie another long lesson about how not to get killed doing her job. “You two need to get on the road, or you won’t get any rest.”

A throat cleared to his right. The female deputy’s frown was fierce, but she lifted her chin. “I can drop you, but I won’t wait around.”

He nodded. From her expression, she was about as thrilled with the idea as he was. She’d dump him at the entrance, and he’d be on his own. The way he liked it. “Suits me fine. And I appreciate it.”