I love cowboys. And I’m guessing you do, too. I’ve been writing them as long as I’ve been writing contemporary stories. I’ve written them through a couple of series—Lone Star Loversand Triple Horn Brand. And I’ve written them into short stories—quick bites of yummy Texans. Have you tried them out?
My love of cowboys comes from nine years of living in the Texas Hill Country with a working ranch butted up against my back yard. From my vantage it wasn’t uncommon to see cowboys on horseback or motorized mules, rounding up cattle. And every one of them was exactly how’d you picture them in your fantasies—lean and dusty in Wranglers, straw cowboy hats and boots. Now that those days are over, I can let my mind drift back—and imagine some very sexy goin’s on…
Big Brass Buckle — Caught in a sudden thunderstorm on a lonely stretch of Texas highway, I pull into a dingy little diner to wait out the rain, never dreaming the cowboy of my dreams would follow me inside. Now I have a couple of choices, play it coy and safe? Or go for the big brass buckle…
One Track Cowboy — After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion…
The Runaway Bride — After leaving him at the altar, a headstrong bride is captured by her cowboy and taught the pleasure of sensual discipline…
Comment for a chance to win one of the cowboy shorties here or one of the short stories on this carousel!
Psst! Yesterday’s contest is still open! So be sure to enter!
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It’s heeerrrre! I hope you’ll get your copy and have a good time. I’m not terribly ambitious, but if I make you squirm with heat or laugh, I feel like I’ve done my job. And any time I can take you someplace where magic abounds, I feel like I’ve shown you a little sliver of what my internal life is like. 🙂 So, if you enjoy the story, how about leaving a review? Somewhere. Or tell a friend. I appreciate everything you do!
One demon lights her fire. It’ll take three to cool her down.
Beaux Rêve Coven, Book 2
Now that the battle dust has settled and the witches have won their freedom, Miren Lynch is going stir crazy. Sure, her three demon bodyguards are hot–especially Renner Neilsen–but having them constantly underfoot and ordering her around is about to drive her insane.
One kiss proves the attraction between her and Renner is mutual, but when the sea draugr slips into her dreams, he ignites a fire only three demons can quench.
To Renner, it makes perfect sense for Miren to choose him for her mate. They share the same element–water. They’re both wildly attracted. But once he sneaks into her dream to seduce her, she doesn’t trust his promise he won’t abuse the power a witch brings to a mate.
His solution? Show her he will provide everything she needs for her wellbeing–from mind-bending pleasure to her treasured freedom–even if it means sharing her with a pair of handsome and lusty mermen twins.
Warning: Contains explicit sexual escapades between three handsome specimens of juicy otherworld masculinity and a witch who knows that even the most hardass demon hides a gooey marshmallow inside. Happy tasting!
Read an excerpt, post a comment, and you might win a free copy of the prequel book, Once in a Blue Moon!
Miren Lynch dropped her foot into the murky bayou water, deep enough that the leather cord she wore around her ankle, decorated with alligator and snakes’ teeth, dipped below the surface. Then she circled her fingers above the water.
“Water demons, lurkers from the deep,
Keep venom and teeth on your banks.
Have no fear we will disturb.
For your mercy, we’ll give the Goddess thanks,
In your name.
As I will it, so mote it be.”
She ended the spell with a splash of her foot, smiling as her sisters leaned back on their arms and churned the water with their feet like children.
“You know Ethan would have a cow if he knew what we were doing,” Miren said, glancing sideways at Bryn.
Bryn wrinkled her nose but otherwise showed no concern. She wasn’t afraid of her husband. He might be a big bad troll, but with Bryn, who was now four months pregnant with a lovely baby bump, Ethan was doting. She shrugged and winked a silvery-gray eye. “What’s he gonna do? Spank me?”
The rest of the sister witches giggled at the thought. When Ethan was around, Bryn rarely even walked. He’d made it a habit of scooping her up into his arms to deposit her in a chair or a bed, whichever best served his immediate purpose.
But the women’s enforced seclusion at Beaux Rêve Inn, however well-intended, was beginning to wear. Although it was October and the mornings were becoming nippy, the afternoons were still quite sultry in their little bayou town. Today, they’d snuck away from Bryn’s bed and breakfast and Ethan’s overdeveloped protective streak to enjoy the last of the warm weather. They sat on a concrete barge tethered to the end of the boat dock, bare feet dangling in the bayou.
Miren suppressed a twinge of jealousy at her sister’s good fortune—a devoted husband, a baby on the way. And she wasn’t alone in her envy. All the witches were growing restless. Surrounded by the most handsome specimens of otherworld masculinity, they had their choice of mates. But none of them had committed. The problem, they all agreed, was that there were too many juicy choices. And there was the lingering fear, one not misplaced, that once the women made their choices and were claimed, everything they’d worked so hard to build would be gone. Demons would be demons, no matter how playful or polite. In the natural order of things, demons ruled their witch mates and syphoned off power for their own gain.
Thus far, Ethan had proved himself a man of his word. But he was a troll, and likely grateful Bryn had overlooked his low status to marry him. Already the most physically powerful among demon kind, he had less need of Bryn’s gifts.
Darcy tossed her red mane of thick curly hair and cast a sideways glance around the small coven. “It’s silly the way they keep us penned up. We won the battle. The council has backed away. Hell, they banished us, giving us our freedom from their rule. Don’t you think it’s time for us all to move back to our own homes?”
“Ethan’s still worried that so many unclaimed witches will draw the wrong element here. Or that your many beaus will fight.” Bryn kicked her feet in the water, the corners of her mouth pulling downward. “Besides, I’ve enjoyed having everyone under foot.”
“That’s because you’re in nesting mode,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes. “It’s understandable, and it has been nice to share this time with you. But we all have businesses to run. I think it’s time. Besides, you’ll never be able to rent out your rooms while we’re occupying them.”
“Ethan and his men pitch in with expenses. They’ve more than covered the rent and the groceries.”
“I, for one,” Aoife said with a sly glance at Bryn, “would love a good night’s sleep without wondering if the walls are going to crash around us.”
“Aoife!” Bryn said, a blush spilling across her cheeks. “The earth moved just the once when he claimed me.” Her gaze swept the group, and then she bit her lower lip. “Have we really been that noisy?”
Radha sniffed, her dark brows arching over twinkling brown eyes. “There’s not a man or woman in the house who can’t count the number of nightly orgasms he gives you.”
The women shared another look and then erupted in laughter.
“Gone for an hour and look at the mischief you’ve gotten yourselves into.”
The deep rumbling voice behind them made them all jump guiltily.
Bryn glanced over her shoulder and gave her husband a dazzling smile.
Miren looked back as well, wincing at Ethan’s dark frown and the fists settled on his narrow hips. Behind him stood Renner, his smile tight, no doubt waiting for the fireworks to explode.
A muscle jumped along Ethan’s square jaw. “My men have been scouring the house and garden for all of you. How did you sneak past them?” His gaze went to Bryn, who shrugged and looked away. Then he scanned the rest of the sisters.
Miren lifted her hand and glanced down at it, pretending to inspect her nails as though her heart wasn’t thudding hard against her chest. They’d broken the rules meant for their protection. Something Ethan took very seriously. “I may have conjured a little cloaking spell. We walked right past Kahn and Sigurd.”
“Feet out of the water,” he said, his voice pitched lower.
Goddess, if she didn’t know the man was a gooey marshmallow inside, she’d be trembling. But they all knew he’d do nothing to upset Bryn in her delicate state.
“Ethan, we were bored. And Miren cast a warding spell to protect us from snakes and gators. We were never in any danger,” Bryn said, her voice soft, the tone meant to soothe his savage beast.
“Snakes and gators are the least of your worries,” Ethan gritted out, his nostrils flaring and his dark gaze raking Bryn’s curvy frame.
Miren crimped her lips together. She caught sight of Darcy’s bold grin and shook her head. They both knew where this was leading, and none of them was in any danger. But their little dip was over. Their guardians were gathering behind Ethan and Renner, ready to swoop in and escort them back to the house. The last thing she and her sisters should do was incite any of the other males. The testosterone and pheromones already wafting in the air was making her entire body tighten with want.
Resistance on their part would be its own form of flirting, intended or not. And the consequences…
“All right,” Miren grumbled, giving the water one last splash before rising. She took her time shaking out her long skirt and smoothing the sides, gathering her pride before raising her gaze. But Renner had moved in front of her, and his expression drew her up short, made her breath hitch.
His eyes blazed with heat—out of character and contrary to his water aspect. Like her, his ruling element was water, his moods ruled by the moon and sea. Usually easygoing, the angry passion he displayed now stirred an answering heat inside her.
Ruthlessly, she tamped it down. He was a sea-draugr—a creature as unsuited for marriage to a witch as…well…as a troll. The thought lapped like a warm wave over her, and she swayed.
Renner stepped forward and reached out, clamping his large hand around her wrist and tugging her toward him. “I’ll assume you were the instigator.”
She raised her chin and pouted her lips. “And if I was? Are you going to make me do a perp walk back to the house?”
His sea-blue eyes narrowed, growing cold as Arctic ice. A look she’d only seen once, when the men had prepared for battle against the creatures the council had gathered to defeat them. She remembered how he’d looked then, his naked body gleaming with the pearl-like luster of the witches’ shared magic. Although she’d been afraid they’d all die on that field, she hadn’t been able to deny her attraction. Renner wasn’t burly like Bryn’s troll. The tall draugr was broad-shouldered, his arms knotted with lovely muscles, his belly a study in swells and hollows that left her mouth dry.
She shook her head to rid herself of the vision of his naked perfection. The fact they’d all gathered nude in the field had been necessary as the witches had drawn down the power of the blue moon to cloak them all in magical armor, infusing the men’s already powerful frames with a little added advantage.
She recalled how she’d brushed her hands over his chest and abdomen, letting the magic flow from her fingertips to his skin, how his arousal, a natural byproduct of the infusion, had caused his cock to thicken and rise. All the men had been left in similar states, but only his cock had given her pause, because, in that moment, she’d wanted him.
A resurgence of that need made her body soften, her nipples tingle. It was a damn good thing Renner wasn’t even looking at her.
He pulled her behind him, stalking down the dock, but she dug in her heels. A mistake, she realized, the moment a splinter from the rough planks stabbed the sole of one foot. “Stop, Renner,” she said, tugging on his hand.
He aimed a glare over his shoulder and then raked her with a glance, his gaze stopping on the foot she held up from the dock.
With an irritated huff, he bent and swept her into his arms.
She grabbed for his shoulders, a thrill sending her blood hammering. She glanced behind her as her sisters watched, their mouths hanging open. Miren was the most resistant to male attention, the least romantic. She could almost read their minds.
And then they all began to grin and Miren lifted a hand, giving them the finger behind Renner’s back. Laughter rang out but was quickly subdued as more of Ethan’s and Renner’s men descended upon the women.
Renner jostled her in his arms and then squeezed her. “There are alligators all along the bank. They could have mistaken all that splashing for fish in distress.”
“I cast a warding spell.”
“You think you have a spell for everything, don’t you?”
He sounded so surly she grew worried. Renner rarely displayed irritation, and never anger. Most often, his sly humor was all that was evident. Something that irked the living hell out of her because she suspected his humor was a deflection to keep hidden what was really there inside him.
She should have known that with a troll for a best friend, he’d be an ogre under his blond good looks. “We didn’t escape just to piss you off. We’re restless. Freaking bored.”
“And you think we aren’t restless, aren’t fucking frustrated as hell?” His footsteps were getting heavier. Hell, he was stomping toward the porch now. “There are twenty of us and four of you, as yet, unclaimed. Choose already.”
“And who do you think I should choose?”
Renner halted at the bottom of the inn’s steps to stare down at her. A muscle rippled in his cheeks. His aqua eyes gleamed. “Choose me, Miren.”
I love those articles in magazines that have numbers in the titles—doesn’t matter the topic; the number will make me pause and read the title. So I thought, surely there’s five things about UBM that I could list. They’ll just roll off the tips of my fingers as I type…
Hmmm… It’s nearly 8 AM, so lack of sleep is a poor excuse. Maybe if I just type the number something will come…
1)
Seriously? I’m stumped at 1? Maybe it’s because it’s a number and the other side of my brain that I don’t use very much any more is having spasms. Okay, so with some distance from that nasty number, I should be able to simply tell you the things I love about my witchy series.
Well, there are witches.
And witches are fun. I get to write spells and things. And each of my witches has a certain element (Water, Earth, Fire, Air, Spirit) they are more connected to. In Under a Blood Moon, my heroine Merin is connected to Water. She loves her job as a shrimp boat captain, loves the open water. Her powers feel stronger, her mind more centered when she’s there. In the first book of the series, Bryn’s element was Earth.
2) Okay, the fingers are moving. I can do this. Witches are the preferred mates of demons. In a traditional demon marriage, the witch lives to serve the demon, giving him influxes of power he can siphon off as he needs. And since witches are delicate little creatures, demons think witches should be grateful for their protection. In my series, my witches fled that environment, wanting to live their own authentic lives without power-mad demons enslaving them. They hid themselves in the bayou, hoping they’d never be found, but witches are fair game to any rogue demon. Discovery was inevitable…
3) My demon kingdom is filled with every luscious otherworld creature you can imagine—or I can anyway. Since I didn’t want to choose, I packed it with my favorites. (Okay, so now you know I’m writing this series for my own entertainment!) In Once in a Blue Moon, the hero was a troll! Doesn’t sound sexy? WRONG! In UBM, my main hero is a sea draugr? Don’t know what that is? Sorry, you have to read the story—but I will say he’s based on Norse lore. Plus, there are two mermen, twins in fact, who fill up the story and parts of Miren’s anatomy quite well. And what’s coming? A wolf for sure, because I do love furry heroes. Maybe a gargoyle or a djinn. I’m having fun with the variety. I hope you will too!
4) My story’s set in the bayous of Louisiana. I know. I’ve used it before, but hey, it’s just south of me, and I visit there often, and even I in my prosaic little human world I can feel the spooky vibes coming from the murky, gator-filled waters. The vegetation is lush, the air humid and thick. I’m drawn to it because of its isolation and beauty. If you’ve never made a trip, you have to add it to your bucket list!
5) I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Well, I do know there’s always going to be plenty of sex, but I don’t know where the characters are leading me. Not yet. And that’s very, very enticing for me as a writer. I purposely didn’t plan this series because I wanted to it come from the fertile side of my brain. The one unencumbered by logic and numbers. But see? I made it 5!
UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kristie!
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Ménage can be kind of irresistible. To write or read. Why settle for one hot lover when you can have two or more? I enjoy the challenge of writing it—figuring out how to describe all those moving parts, trying to make the scene move quickly, and still let the reader know who’s saying/touching what. And I’ll admit it. When I’m writing it, I’m that character, closing my eyes and imagining every kiss.
I’ve written a few. 🙂 The book coming May 12th, Under a Blood Moon, features a foursome (a witch, two mermen and a sea draugr). To tide you over until then, take a peek inside Two Hot!
Comment for a chance to win Two Hot or one of the short stories on this carousel!
Do you like ménage stories? If so, what flavor of ménage do you prefer — m/m/f, m/f/m, f/m/f, f/f/m? More mm’s?
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Click to Buy
Afraid to spoil their friendship, Emily had been reluctant to act on her attraction to the two sexy men next door. However, when she’s caught spying on them, the men decide a little punishment is in order…
Beads of condensation, glittering jewel-like in the sputtering candlelight, ran in rivulets down the sides of Jason’s ice-cold beer.
Detail I shouldn’t have been able to note, given the fact I was thirty feet away.
As I lowered my nephew’s toy binoculars, I reflected that I had indeed sunk to a new low. You see, my bedroom window conveniently overlooked Jason and Robert’s backyard. A fact that probably never registered with the previous tenants, but one that proved too delicious to ignore after the arrival of the handsome duo. Privacy fencing, which ran down to the pier that jutted into the lake, separated the row of houses where we lived. It was high enough the neighbors on either side of ours couldn’t see into their yard, but lucky me—I had the perfect view.
Upon discovering this, I had began a furtive surveillance. One that had me cringing in embarrassment each time I greeted them in passing and feeling even more ashamed when we struck up a friendship.
We’d shared meals, drinks, late afternoon swims, watched football games together on their wide-screen TV. And still, I peeked into their backyard, waiting for those moments when they popped outside to mow the lawn or catch a few summer rays. Their bodies gleamed with sweat while raw lust warred inside me, along with the fear that I’d mess up our relationship if I let the guys know how I really felt.
My convenient perch on the windowsill afforded me a window into their private lives, and from the very beginning, I was hooked. They’d become an obsession, one frustrated by the fact they treated me like a kid sister, rather than a woman one of them might desire.
And therein lay another problem. I’d resisted the urge to seek a deeper relationship because then I’d have to choose. My libido was completely fickle, lusting after Jason’s muscled physique, then sighing over the possibilities of what Robert’s tall, bony frame and large feet hinted at. That their personalities were perfect bookends, fierce and funny, confused my heart as well.
Lucky, lucky me. I licked the sweat gathering on my upper lip while this night one of the handsome men living next door tilted his bottle and took several long sips. The look of pure bliss that softened his otherwise stern features made my chest ache.
I watched the movement of Jason’s throat as he worked it down, imagining him sipping at my overheated flesh. My skin began to tingle. My nipples beaded, crowding uncomfortably against my lace bra. My thighs clenched as a delicious wash of arousal seeped to wet the crotch of my plain panties.
The sigh he emitted as he set the bottle on the table was echoed by my own painful groan. Watching either of them had never caused my heart to skip a beat like that hint of a moan sliding on the tail of Jason’s long exhalation.
Sure, it was hotter than hell out there. I too felt the effects of the enervating heat. Record temperatures had strained the region’s resources and planned service interruptions began that night. But something about that sigh felt…un-subtle, exaggerated, maybe even dramatic. And Jason was too straightforward a man for that.
I blotted sweat from my forehead, asking myself again, What am I doing?
Only this time, my peeping hadn’t been deliberate. I’d rushed home from work and showered quickly to beat the scheduled brown-out. Then I’d stripped to my underwear, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window, hoping for a breeze to cool my skin. Sitting limply on the sill, I waited for the world to flicker into life again.
That’s when I’d noticed him, sitting in a lounge chair alone in the dark.
He wore his usual work “uniform”—khaki trousers, white shirt and a tie. Tonight, the tie hung loosened and askew, his collar opened beneath it.
Despite the lack of electricity, I could see it all. Moonlight silvered his dark hair and reflected bright as a beacon against the white shirt. The golden light from the large Citronella candle leant warmth to his skin and the amber bottle he held between his hands.
As always, he was lovely to watch, but tonight, his expression drew my attention more than his breath-stealing features. A sullen slanting of his brows, a bit of pout plumping his masculine lips, an edgy energy to his slight movements—he was either irritated or aroused.
Wanting an answer to the “either-or,” I watched. My forte is observation; my people-radar exquisitely tuned to body language and a voice’s tonal cues. My curiosity and my lust were caught. No way could I back away from my window now.
The bottle tapped the table as he set it aside. A long-fingered hand tugged the knot of his tie, dragging it from his neck.
When he began to undo the row of buttons down the front of his shirt, I settled deeper on the sill, leaning closer, but taking care to keep my pale body hidden behind the sheer curtain.
The edges of the shirt parted over a broad, nicely muscled chest. My gaze zeroed in on taut lean abs dusted with dense fur the same color as his close-cropped black hair that stretched nipple to nipple then ran along a thin dark line to slip beneath his zipper.
His hand stroked his chest, scratching through the hair, the faint crinkling sound causing my own chest to tighten, my nipples to surge.
A light sheen of sweat glimmered on his chest and belly. Again, my tongue swept my lips, tasting salt, and I imagined I lapped the dew right off his skin.
When a lazily roaming hand slid over his belly, I tensed, fascinated as he swept the flat plane. Would he be hard or desk-soft? His stomach looked firm. So, I enjoyed fantasizing that he was and touched my own stomach, following his path.
His hand slid down to the knot bulging behind his fly, and he cupped it. Squeezed.
My own hands itched to replace his and grew still, clenching against the fantasy of holding his burgeoning cock as it roused. My cheeks heated and my breaths shortened. No need to tease my own body into arousal, moisture already soaked my panties.
The buckle clanked open, and the belt slid sinuously from the loops as he lifted his hips and pulled it free. A flick of his thumb and the button at the waistband of his trousers opened. His zipper rasped as it slid down.
Dark fabric formed a vee-like shadow as his hand rooted beneath his waist, and then he slipped the long, gleaming column of his semi-aroused sex from the flap at the front of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around it.
I swallowed the liquid pooling in my mouth. I blinked to moisten eyes that had grown dry and scratchy as I stared, wide-eyed. My breaths grew ragged, a little choked, and I must have made a noise, because suddenly his head swung my way.
His gaze narrowed on my bedroom window.
Holding my breath, I froze, hoping his gaze couldn’t penetrate the darkness.
But a crooked smile slowly stretched his lips, and his hand tightened around himself and began to pump up and down the thickening rod. All the while, he stared at me.
Jason knew I watched but didn’t seem to mind. I let out a deep, trembling breath and continued to stare, my own body heating, growing increasingly aroused in tandem with his hardening cock.
His head turned away, and his hand dropped from his engorged cock. It fell against his belly with a soft, muffled thud. Heavy, hot, thick—I knew its girth would stretch my mouth.
Another sound intruded. The chime of my doorbell. I bit back a curse and drew away from the window, slung on my robe, then headed downstairs to the front door.
Robert stood on the stoop, a lazy grin on his face, a sweep of lank blonde hair covering one eye and two beers dangling from his fingers. He was shirtless. Low-riding, blue knee-length shorts encased slender hips and revealed long legs. His large feet were bare. “Thought you might like to join us.”
For the first time in forever, I’m going to Little Rock for a Diamond State Romance Authors meeting! I swear it’s probably been a year and a half since I attended. Hope I recognize some folks… My sister Elle James is speaking, so I’m going for moral support and because she’s making me go. 🙂
Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Triple Horn Brand series! Here’s the question…
Churches have crosses and steeples, governments buildings have flag poles… What might you like to put on your roof to set it apart from everyone else’s?
What would I put on my roof… A giant book? The head of a hellhound? How about a weather vane with a witch riding a broom? Have fun with your answer!
And in case you didn’t know, I do have a sexy, new story out there right now…
Two construction workers come to the aid of one woman looking for a last taste of freedom…
Note: This 6000-word short story was previously published in Penthouse Magazine and Suite Encounters: Hotel Sex Stories, and has been revised and expanded. It may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!
When the blare of a TV sounded from outside, I had third and fourth thoughts about my decision to stop here for the night. What the hell? Why had someone moved their television set outside rather than watch in the seclusion of their room where the sound would be somewhat muffled?
I gritted my teeth, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and reached for shorts and a tee, slipping them over my nude body and the keys into my pocket before I stomped to the door and flung it open.
Not that the two men sitting on the truck noticed me—at first.
Under the single flood light that illuminated the parking lot, I noted the construction company logo on the side of the pickup backed up to the door of the room beside mine. Then I eyed the large men seated on the sides of the truck bed, their shirts gone, faded jeans stretched over thick thighs. Their attention was glued to the basketball game, blaring from the small screen of the TV they had set in the bed of the truck on top of a white ice chest. They held Budweisers in their grips.
At last, one of the men’s heads turned. He spotted me then whistled at his friend. Soon both their gazes peered down.
I felt foolish standing in my bare feet with my wet hair spiked around my head. Why hadn’t I simply put a pillow over my head to muffle their noise? But I was testy. Moody. I’d lost my job, had a blow-up with my boyfriend over the fact I wouldn’t be splitting rent with him for a while, and cut my nose off to spite my own face by breaking up with him. Homeless now, I had no options. Grandma’s in Little Rock was my last resort.
Tonight would be my last night of freedom before I moved under her roof and abided by her rules. She’d pay the bills—if I knuckled under and went back to school. Something I resented after being on my own for a couple of years, living by my rules.
Which might have been exactly why I remained rooted to that spot. The men seated on the truck would never meet Grandma’s high standards.
Sweat gleamed on their naked chests and both of them were thickly muscled and a little dirty—as though they’d come straight from work without the benefit of a shower.
The shine only served to emphasize the depth of the musculature and their starkly masculine features. Their tanned skin stretched across cheeks and jaws that were sharpened to rough edges by hard work.
Both their gazes homed on me, and while I knew the smart thing would have been to retreat without a word to my room and relock the door, I tilted my chin and thrust out my chest. “Can’t you watch the game in your room?”
“We botherin’ you, sweetheart?” the one closest to me said, sliding off the truck to land in front of me.
I peered a long way up and frowned into the face tilted my way. We stood close enough I could see the bristles of his evening shadow. He wore a ball cap that shadowed his eyes, but glints of blond hair shone beneath it. “It’s late. I was trying to sleep.”
“It’s not that late,” he drawled. “Join us for a beer?”
I glanced behind him and noted the grin on his buddy’s face. He was bare-headed with shaggy brown hair and a devilish quirk to his firm lips. The game seemed to have lost its fascination. Their gazes drank me down like I was long cool drink.
I barely resisted the urge to jut my hip and twirl my hair.
“Bobby, the night clerk, can vouch for us if you’re wonderin’ whether we’re safe,” the one beside me said, amusement lingering in his husky voice.
I shouldn’t have been tempted. However, my body still hummed pleasurably from the heat I’d drawn with my own lazy fingers. Even sweaty, the two men were tempting. Both young, in good shape. Both interested if their sharpening gazes were any indication.
And what the hell? It wasn’t as if I had anyone to answer to. Not at this moment. There was no boyfriend to betray.
My mouth went dry and I swallowed. “Is the beer cold?”
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If you’d like to check out more of my recent short story releases…
UPDATE: The winner of the free story is…Donamuree Holmes!
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I’m writing like my hair’s on fire today—head down, fingers a-flyin’! Hope you have a more restful Saturday! 🙂
Post a comment today, and you’ll be entered to win a free download from either my Lone Star Lovers series or my Triple Horn Brand series! Here’s the question…
If you could acquire any fictional item for realz, what would you want and why?
Not so easy right? Do you choose Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility so you can stalk your favorite movie star without being detected? (I have no clue why that popped into my mind first—cough, Chris Hemsworth naked in the bath!) Or how about Sherlock Holmes’ pipe? (I want whatever he was smoking!) And there you go. Have fun!
And just a reminder, I do have a sexy, new story out there right now…
Jackson Lowry cussed softly when he spotted the blue lights spinning at the roadblock just ahead. Too late to turn back now. He’d only draw more attention.
Squaring his jaw, he rolled down his window and forced a polite smile as he peered into the darkness at the sheriff’s deputy checking IDs with a flashlight.
As soon as the deputy waved the car in front of him to move along and turned to watch the black pickup roll forward, Jackson’s tension eased a fraction.
Maynard Colby’s expression turned from crisply professional to worried in a second, as soon as he recognized Jackson. “Dammit, Jackson, where have you been?”
“Around. Why?”
A soft moan sounded beside him, and Jackson reached surreptitiously beside him to tap the tarp covering his precious load.
“You didn’t hear?” At Jackson’s vague expression, Maynard stepped onto the truck rail and leaned toward Jackson. “It’s Sammi Jo. Her car was found in Shooter’s parking lot, the door wide open. No one’s seen her. Looks like she’s been snatched.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “How serious is this gettin’?”
“It’s only been a couple of hours, but Sammi Jo’s daddy is buckin’ to get the sheriff to call in the FBI, the CIA, the ATF—and whatever other agency his money can buy to find her. I tried callin’ you, but your phone kept goin’ to voicemail. After the way things went down at the weddin’ last Sunday, I don’t blame you a bit for layin’ low, but I thought you’d wanna know.”
Another sound, this time a snort, sounded beside him.
Maynard’s gaze cut to the dirty tarp folded over a moving bundle on the floor of the cab. A ruddy eyebrow shot up. “What’s goin’ on, Jackson?”
Jackson rolled his eyes then pulled up the corner of the tarp to reveal a bound and gagged Sammi Jo whose eyes glittered furiously back at both men.
Maynard barked a laugh then tightened his lips. “This time you’ve gone and done it, boy. This is seriously fucked up.” He laughed again, then tipped his hat to Sammi Jo. “No disrespect meant, missy.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “Don’t s’pose you can forget about this?”
Maynard’s gaze shot to Sammi Jo again, raked her once as though ensuring she didn’t look to be in any real danger, then tipped back his cowboy hat. “Tell ya what. I’ll put a bug in the sheriff’s ear, but she better come walkin’ through the po-lice house doors come Monday mornin’.”
“Not a word to her daddy?”
One corner of Maynard’s mouth crooked up. “Man’s already caused enough problems. Deserves to cool his heels a couple o’ days. Don’t do nothin’ I’ll have to arrest you for.”
With a nod, Jackson rolled up the window and pulled past the barricade. In his side mirror, he watched as Maynard crossed to the other deputy’s car and both men bent over laughing.
“See that, Sammi Jo?” he murmured, not expecting an answer because he’d made double-damn sure he’d tied some serious knots and gagged her pretty mouth. “I’m not the only one who thinks you need a good paddlin’.”
*~*~*~*~*
If you’d like to check out more of my recent short story releases…
Two construction workers come to the aid of one woman looking for a last taste of freedom…
