UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Kim Smith!

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Are you a fan of short stories? Have you ever read one? I love reading and writing them. Good thing, because one of my jobs is “editor” for sexy anthologies for Cleis Press.

I love short stories for many reasons.

• It’s a very short, satisfying journey to THE END.
• I can experiment with genre and see whether I’m any good at writing something different.
• Writing shorts cleans my writer’s palate much like eating bread at a wine-tasting.
• It’s just plain fun.

I write short stories for the collections I edit, but I also love to write them for other people’s collections. I get rejected the same as anyone else, so it’s still a rush to make the cut when a story is accepted. And because I normally retain all rights for the stories, I like to bundle them up occasionally into my own little self-pubbed volumes of Strokes. So far, I’ve published two. In a month or two, I’ll be publishing the third.  Today, I’m giving away a copy of the first volume to one lucky commenter. The second volume had to be republished a few months ago, and I lost all my reviews. 🙁 So if anyone happens to pick up a copy, I’d love you forever if you posted a review!

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win a free download of Strokes, Volume 1!

Strokes, Volume 2

Click to Buy

From New York Times bestselling author, Delilah Devlin, comes another naughty collection of seven bedtime stories—a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure.

Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in “The Long Ride Home.” In “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” a woman has one last fling with two sexy construction workers. A cowboy kidnaps his “Runaway Bride” to get some sweet satisfaction. A woman travelling alone in Europe enjoys a hot steamy sauna in the “Textile Free” zone. In “Love in Bloom,” a florist tempts her high school crush. A naughty nooner with an office colleague ends in a “Quick Draw.” A dispatcher kicks inhibitions to the door when she seduces a younger truck driver in “Drive Me Crazy.”

Four of the stories have appeared in separate Cleis Press anthologies. Two of the stories were featured in Penthouse magazine! All the stories are featured in one sinfully hot collection…

Excerpt from “The Long Ride Home”…

White-hot sun beat down on the tops of our helmets. Sweat pooled between our shoulder blades and dampened the necks of our t-shirts. However, it was a hot, humid East Texas heat—so unlike what we’d endured for the past eleven months that none standing in formation really minded. We were home.

I watched it trickle down the side of one particular soldier’s neck as he stood in the row in front of me. Not for the first time, I thought I’d like the chance to lick it away.

Not that Staff Sergeant Mason Haddox had a clue how I felt. We’d been part of the same platoon—played volleyball and shot hoops, drove trucks over long, barely paved expanses of desert and mountains, and cleaned our weapons, side by side—but he hadn’t seen me as anything but another private who needed looking after.

And yet, his tall, muscled frame, black close-cropped hair and wintry blue eyes had made quite an impression. I’d lusted after him since the first time he’d shown up drill weekend, a month before we’d deployed. His steadfast calm during the most nightmarish day of my life had only cemented his attraction.

My nose started to itch, and I wrinkled it, hoping formation would break soon so I could scratch it. My feet were roasting in the boots sticking to the black pavement.

True to his word, our commander kept his speech short. A good thing, since SSG Haddox fidgeted, hands tightening and easing, swaying slightly on his feet as though waiting to spring into action. I knew he scanned the crowd seated in the bleachers from the corners of his eyes, hoping she’d show, that she’d changed her mind. I’d looked too and knew she wasn’t there—and wouldn’t be coming. I felt bad for him, but was also secretly hopeful he’d be ready to let go, that he wouldn’t do something stupid now we were back.

Just a month before we began preparations for our unit’s return from Afghanistan, Haddox had gotten the Dear John letter from his girlfriend, informing him she’d moved his belongings from their apartment into a storage unit. She’d included two keys taped to the page—one for the storage unit and one to his Mustang. She’d written she was sorry, but had he really expected her to wait all those months?

Had I been in her shoes, I would have. But then, I knew the feeling of being so far from home that Skype and email couldn’t fill the loneliness. I’d survived it once. However, my husband’s second tour had severed our connection—that and the emails I’d discovered when I’d hacked his Gmail account. Ones he’d sent to a female corporal stationed in another province who was planning a little R&R rendezvous. As quick as that, my love for him dried up like a closed tap. I’d forwarded the email to my account, then sent it to him along with a request for a divorce.

So I knew what Haddox felt. The searing betrayal. The anger. Maybe she’d been a decent person, but personally, I consigned her to hell. The worst thing the person at home could do to a deployed soldier was abandon him when he was too far away to do a damn thing about it.

I hoped he didn’t plan to go find her now.

“Company, attention!”

I snapped into position.

“Dismissed.”

Cheers from our unit and from the family and friends who filled the armory motor pool rang in the late afternoon air.

Head down, Haddox stomped away, not bothering to share a word with anyone.

My sister waved and made her way through the throng spilling from the bleachers, a wide smile splitting her face. I gave her an answering smile, but couldn’t help darting a glance to watch that broad set of shoulders move toward the open motor pool gates—the only space large enough to hold the formation and the guests who’d come to welcome the Reserve unit home.

The buses that had delivered us from the airport were pulling away. Most of the soldiers and their friends and family were heading inside the armory for the welcome home celebration, but Haddox strode toward the parking lot.

I gave my sister a quick hug. “Go say hi to Shelby—he’s got it bad for you.”

She laughed and blushed. “Where are you goin’?” Then her gaze followed mine. “Seriously? I thought you said he was an asshole.”

“He grows on you. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She gave me a smile and hitched her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. But you better call.”

“Tell Shelby to grab my gear!” Out the gates I sped.

Haddox was already dropping his duffel bag into the trunk of a car—an older model black Mustang.

I halted beside him, trying to figure out what I could say to keep him from driving away.

“You forget something, PFC Hollister?” he asked, glancing to the side as he slammed down the trunk lid.

“Megan,” I said, suddenly breathless. “Thought you might like some company.”

His gaze narrowed. “Did you, now? I’m gonna blow the carbon out of the exhaust. The ride’s gonna be bumpy.”

“I don’t want to get in the way—if you have plans.”

“No plans.” He snorted. “Don’t even have a place to sleep. Didn’t your sister come to pick you up?”

“Yeah, but she’s all right with me leavin’.”

This time, his mouth twisted into something between a smile and a snarl. “Shelby?”

“Yeah. You know they’ve been writing each other.”

His gaze trailed straight down my body, then up again. “Get in.”

I strode quickly to the passenger door, opened it, and slipped into the bucket seat. Then I tossed my hat in the backseat and began unbuttoning my ACU-camouflaged jacket.

When he slid in beside me, one dark brow lifted, but he didn’t say a thing when I threw it into the back as well and sat in my sweat-damp shirt in the musty car.

“Better roll down the windows.” Then he said a little prayer under his breath and turned the key in the ignition. I buckled my seatbelt. The engine rumbled into life. With a quick, tight grin, he jerked the stick into reverse, and then punched it forward. We rolled out onto the street, heading west rather than east into town.

Hot wind whipped through the interior of the car, dispelling the musty air and tugging at my blond hair looped into a clip at the back of my head. I reached back and released it, then laughed as the Mustang roared.

Glancing toward Haddox, I noted the hard edge of his jaw, the hand wrapped so tight around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearm tensed. I didn’t have to crawl inside his head to know he didn’t want me there, but I was.

Maybe I could help him out a bit. And maybe, he’d see me as more than a fellow soldier who’d shared the bench seat of a deuce-and-a-half truck a time or two. One I’d been driving when he’d had to talk me through a hail of gunfire when our transport convoy came under attack.

I unbuckled my belt, ignoring his deep frown. I turned in the seat and reached for the buttons of his jacket, flicking them open then parting each side.

He didn’t say a thing, but his nostrils flared, his jaw sawed tighter.

I gripped the front of his t-shirt, bunched it in my hand, and tugged it from his ACU trousers.

His stomach jumped, and he sucked it in, making just enough room for me to get my fingers behind the waistband as I unbuckled, unbuttoned and tugged down the zip.

“Dammit, Hollister,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

His gruff tone spurred me on. “Not if you keep your eyes on the road,” I said, tilting up my chin. Then I leaned over his lap, folded down the elastic band of his boxer briefs and pulled his cock upright.

I have a book to finish slamming today. And I can’t wait to type THE END so I can give my poor hands a rest. I’ve written so many words these past few days that my stumpy little digits ache.

Since I don’t want to spend my fingers on a blog, I’ll get right to the point. I have a book coming on February 10th that’s up for pre-order now! It’s a historical western set in Two Mule, Texas—and yes, to those of you who pay attention, it’s a prequel book to the Lone Stare Lovers series. I love this story. It has tons of humor and sweaty sex. And isn’t this the prettiest cover ever?

And what’s with the title of this blog? Just havin’ some fun. And if you say you don’t know what Gunsmoke is/was, well that’s just sad. 🙂 Miss Kitty, Marshall Dillon, Festus… If you were like me, you were always waiting for Miss Kitty and Matt to get it on…

Comment for a chance to win a free download of one of my Lone Star Lover books!

UPDATE: The winner, chosen by a random number generator, is…ilona!

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I’ve written a lot of books and every one of them is special to me, but there are a few that are my favorite babies. Shattered Souls is one of those. From the moment I dreamed the pivotal scene in the first act, I was driven to write this story. I knew Cait inside and out from day one. I didn’t know exactly what she was capable of, but she led me through her story, bitching all the way. The words came fast, just as though they were being fed through a funnel. Like they weren’t coming from me at all. The sequel was almost as fun to write, although there was one particular scene that just about killed me. Those of you who read Lost Souls will know which one I mean… Enjoy the excerpt.

UPDATE: The winner (selected by a random number generator) of the free
download of Laying Down the Law is…Jen M!

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Happy New Year!

Yeah, getting tired of hearing that already? I still can’t believe it’s 2015. Or that it marks the 15th anniversary of the start of my writing career. In January 2000, as part of my new century resolutions, I decided it was time to become the person I wanted to be when I grew up—a writer. My sister, Elle James, and I entered the fray together, and thankfully, we’ve both succeeded and we’re both still writing! So there is magic in making those big dream kind of resolutions!

One of this year’s resolutions is to continue what I think is something you all enjoy—hosting new and popular authors on my blog so that you have a chance to meet them and see the fabulous stories they are bringing you. Also, I will give you plenty of encouragement to come back again and again, to this blog, by not only offering great guests, but also frequent chances to win some great prizes.

And if you don’t want to miss those opportunities to score a prize or meet a new author, be sure to subscribe to my blog. Scroll down this page, looking to the left-hand column until you see, “Subscribe to Blog via Email.” It’s as easy as that!

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win a free copy of the story below!

Oh, and one last thing before I share a fun excerpt from my favorite Triple Horn Brand novella—I’ll be sending out a newsletter soon, filled with goodies you won’t want to miss. So, if you’re not already signed up, here’s the link: Newsletter Signup.

Laying Down the Law

“With amazing suspense, and hot, dominant lovin’ this cowboy and his high school sweetheart take the reader on an amazing emotional journey. Mixed with a bit of humor, sizzling bedroom scenes, and cowboys that steal your heart, Ms. Devlin has created a beyond 5 Book worthy start of an incredible new series. I am absolutely dying to know what happens in the next Triplehorn story!… Once again, thank you, Ms. Devlin, for stealing my heart with complex and witty characters, hot sex and riveting suspense!”

5/5 Books, Reviews by Molly

Seeking sanctuary could be the hottest mistake she ever made.

The TripleHorn Brand, Book 1

A lifetime ago, Zuri Prescott kicked the dirt off her boots and ditched her small-time small town for the glam city life—and lived to regret it. When she’s framed for a bank job, she lights out for home, seeking refuge with her old high school sweetheart while she figures out her next steps. Only she discovers that the boy she left behind is the last man she should trust.

Sheriff Colt Triplehorn knows trouble when he sees it, especially when it comes in the form of a familiar trespasser, caught naked between an angry bull and her underwear. Sure she’s up to her usual no good, he grants her sanctuary at his ranch—the better to keep an eye on her, and purge her from his system once and for all.

Reconnection is sweet and hot, but the heat can’t hide the truth. When Colt inevitably finds out what Zuri’s running from, it’s too late to put the fire out, and he’s got a career-compromising choice on his hands. Follow the letter of the law, or follow his heart.

Product Warnings: When a sheriff captures the girl who got away, expect revenge so hot it leaves brands on two lonely hearts…

Zuri looked up, her hands pulling the belt tighter around her waist, grateful that this time she was covered neck to mid-calf. Still, she was hyper-aware she was naked underneath it and only one knot away from making another big mistake.

“You find everything you needed?” he asked, his tone impersonal.

Oddly, she thought she might actually prefer that ragged edge of anger he’d blistered her with by the river. “Yes, thanks.” She dropped the ties and smoothed her hands down her sides, nervous beneath his unblinking stare. “I don’t suppose you have anything I might wear, besides this robe, that is.” She flushed at how awkward this felt, how ridiculous her situation was. A closet full of clothes hung waiting for her six hundred miles away.

“You’re pretty skinny. I might have some sweatpants and a T-shirt, but you’ll have to cinch in the pants at the waist to keep ’em from fallin’ off.”

Skinny? Once he’d likened her slender frame to a filly’s, and she’d taken it as the highest compliment. She lifted her chin. “That’d be fine.”

She jerked when he strode for her, but he edged around the bed, headed to his dresser and pulled out a pair of gray sweat pants and a navy tee. He tossed both on the bed, and then stood with his hands fisted on his hips.

Zuri bit back a complaint, wishing he’d quit hovering because he was keeping her on edge. But when he didn’t budge, she dragged her feet to the bed, scooped up the wash-softened cotton and turned toward the bathroom.

“Uh uh,” he said, tsking softly. “My house. My clothes. My rules.”

She glanced over her shoulder, not knowing if she’d heard him right, but that same hard challenge he’d issued when he’d demanded the kiss was stamped all over his granite features.

She knew she ought to ignore him and lock herself into the bathroom to dress and gather her scattered wits, but the underlying tension riding the edge of his jaw excited her.

Colt had never been this dominating…except when they had sex. She’d loved it then. Her body seemed to crave it now. Heat bloomed again, winding around her core. A delicious little thrill accelerated her heartbeats.

Without a saying a word, she walked back to the bed and tossed down the clothing. Then keeping her gaze glued to his, she slowly untied the belt and let the robe fall open. With a sexy shrug, she let it slide off her shoulders and pool behind her on the floor.

Colt blinked first. His gaze trailed downward. His throat worked around a tense swallow, and Zuri couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. He might think he was in charge, but she knew better. Colt liked what he saw.

His quickening breaths were the first clue. The curving of his fists the second. When he opened his stance, just a few inches, she nearly crowed.

Reaching for the cotton pants, she wished she had something sexier to slide inside, then wondered if she’d lost her good sense to think that way. She had enough problems on her plate. But how could she dress and prevent him seeing what this was doing to her? Bending and opening her legs to step into the sweatpants made her feel vulnerable, exposed in a way that just standing there naked hadn’t. “I don’t understand you, or why you’re doin’ this.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I guess that’s true. It’s been a long time.”

“You didn’t know me then.”

She pulled the pants upward, over the curve of her bottom, feeling a little less off-center now that her lower half was hidden from his view. The waist of the pants settled on her hips and she rolled the band to gather up the excess fabric. “Guess that’ll have to do,” she muttered.

As she dragged the T-shirt over her head, she reminded herself why she was here. Definitely not to play games with her ex-boyfriend. She needed a safe place to stay. And she needed to keep Colt clueless until she had a chance to find her car and get rid of the damning evidence before the police found it. Her story might sound a little more believable then.

When she’d pulled the fabric down, fully covering her body, only then did she raise her glance to Colt’s again.

His brows pulled together. “Gonna tell me what’s going on? Why you’re here?”

“I’m a little hungry,” she said, knowing her attempt to stall was completely transparent. “I don’t suppose I could eat first?”

Colt dropped his fists and stepped closer, forcing her chin higher to hold his steady gaze. “If you’re in trouble…”

What? He’d help? She didn’t think so. Colt appeared to be the same inflexible cowboy. He’d always judged a person’s actions as either black or white, right or wrong. No interesting muddying of the colors accepted. She’d forgotten that about him.

She pondered telling him part of the tale, but worried he’d use what he learned to play with her some more. He seemed to like that fact he held the reins.

Zuri licked her lips. “I need a place to stay. Just for a little while.”

His gray eyes, once so warm and open, narrowed. A muscle flexed alongside his jaw.

She waited him out, knowing he wasn’t satisfied with her response. The longer the moment stretched between them, the more uncomfortable she grew. Still holding his steady gaze, she shifted her bare feet, supremely conscious of the fact she wasn’t wearing a stitch of underwear and that his clothing, while freshly laundered, still carried the hint of his unique scent. She was at his mercy. Completely.

Colt inhaled deeply, and then issued a soft, masculine grunt. He reached down and closed his hand around hers, then tugged her closer to the bed. He sat on the edge, staring at their hands before he looked up. “If you stay…you’ll sleep here,” he said, his voice tense and ragged.

Zuri wet her lips with her tongue because her mouth had suddenly gone dry. What he proposed sounded both so…wrong, yet incredibly tempting. She couldn’t get words past her tightening throat. If she could have, she didn’t know whether she would have told him to go to hell or given him a breathless yes. Instead, she squeezed his fingers.

So many thoughts swirled in her mind. Their past, her impossibly complicated present. It sounded so simple. She’d sleep beside him. Make love with him. Maybe she’d even find out that her memories of their being together were painted in rosy hues because she’d been younger, and he’d been her first.

Perhaps in exchange he’d give her clothes and money so that she could make a graceful exit.

Zuri crowded closer to his knees, tilting her chin.

Colt’s lips curved slightly at the corners, and although his gaze remained narrow, he scooted back.

She climbed over his lap, facing him, her thighs sliding over the outside of his, not saying a word, following her instincts although they’d led her down treacherous paths before. She slipped her hand alongside his neck, felt the heavy thrum of his pulse and bent down, her mouth hovering above his. “Think you can keep this uncomplicated, cowboy?”

A deep, throaty groan seeped between his lips, and she leaned into him, settling over the ridge throbbing beneath the placket of his jeans. She could do this. She could take what she wanted from him without losing her heart again. It was just sex. Just an arrangement for shelter, for time.

She had no illusions that she’d be sought by the law and soon. Her job would report her missing. The police would check her apartment and her background. But Detective David Satterly might want her involvement kept under wraps until he’d gotten to her…that might work to her advantage.

As Colt’s arms closed around her back, he lowered himself to the bed and brought her with him.

Sighing, she let her worries slide away. For now, she’d enjoy this little interlude. Accept the pleasure she knew he could deliver. She was older, had learned a few things about how to keep a relationship light. It was just sex.

But then he slid his hand beneath her shirt and scraped his callused palm upward to close around her bare breast. The sandpaper rasp of his thumb across her nipple lit a spark.

Their kiss turned instantly carnal, tongues stroking deeply, lips latching desperately together. Their bodies ground together, frustrated by the clothing separating them.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Ignore it,” she whispered.

Colt sighed. “Can’t. Gabe’ll just barge in. Have to explain it to him first.”

She sat, still straddling his hips. He slid his hand slowly from under her shirt and she climbed off. She turned her back to the door as Colt’s footsteps tapped across the bare wood.

Behind her, the brothers’ voices whispered too low to make out the words, but the rapidity of their exchange, short-bulleted bursts, told her Gabe wasn’t happy with her being here.

Keeping her back to them, she glanced into the dresser mirror and ran her fingers through her damp, tousled hair. Then her gaze fell on the jumbled items resting in a wooden tray. Keys, change. Silver gleamed. She stepped closer and plucked up a metal badge, Sheriff etched on its surface.

Zuri’s hand closed around it and the sharp edges dug into her skin. The one man she’d thought she might seek refuge with was the last she could trust with her secrets.

Check update at the bottom of this post!

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It’s the 20th! I can’t believe how fast this month has flown! Do you have all your gifts bought? I had one last thing to buy, for my dd, and I decided not to buy anything at all. I have to gift some of my family treasures sometime, so I thought, why not start now? Besides, it’s dreary outside. I want to stay in my office wearin’ my jammies where it’s toasty warm and sip hot chocolate while I work. Sound like the best job ever? It is. 🙂

I wish I’d be writing new words today, but I have some administrivia to finish up today. Cleis Press approved a line up for the upcoming In Vikings’ Arms anthology, so I have to send out notices to the authors. Once I’ve notified everyone, I’ll post the list on Facebook. I don’t have a publication date yet, but at least you can salivate over the authors’ names.

Also, I need to finalize my 2015 writing/production plan. I’ve been playing with it all month. I think I’m close to having a list of projects I’m excited to work on. And about time. I hate to wait until the last minute. I want to start the year the way I intend to work it—with fierce determination!

In case you weren’t aware (and I know, I need to update my website this weekend!), I had a new release this week. Or a new old release? Anyways, a story I published years back, a vampire Christmas novelette, has been reworked and republished. Best yet, it’s only $.99! Here’s where you can find it:

In the aftermath of a terrible hurricane, Noelle Moyaux questions her gift of sight until a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger sets her on a path to save his soul.

Magnus Thornton is a millennium-old vampire who has found evidence of an old foe’s evil at work in the demolished city of New Orleans. Weary of the fight, he decides to greet the coming dawn after a night reveling in his favorite indulgences—a bottle of wine and a willing woman.

What starts as a night of sensual delights ends in a revelation of mutual discovery when Noelle quickly creeps into his heart. The ancient vampire, so jaded from life he never speaks, must now persuade her to flee the city before it’s too late.

Buy Links:  Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

So, I have a question for you…

The next Night Fall book will be another in the revised series. I’m retitling it and I have this title, it’s a little quirky: Sm{B}itten. The {B} part would be in ghostly, faded gray on the cover. I think it’s fun, but my dd isn’t sure you’ll get the joke. I think it’s perfect for Emmy Harris’s book. She’s a ditzy blonde—me at 20, folks—who enters into the dark world of vampires quite by accident.

What do you think of Sm{B}itten as a title?

Oh! And if you happen to pick up Silent is the Knight to read, would you mind posting a review somewhere or telling a friend? Self-publishing success depends on readers’ word-of-mouth. If the refurbished series does well, I’ll be writing new installments!

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UPDATE! I’m pleased to announce the final lineup for my next Cleis Press anthology, SEX OBJECTS! Congratulations to all the authors!

Well, Burnin’ up Memphis is (or will be shortly) available on sites today! I can hardly wait to hear from you. I hope you love it. I hope you love my guys. I have an inkling where I’ll go next, but it’s always nice to hear which fella struck your fancy.

The countdown contest winners have been chosen and notified! Congrats to all! The only thing I have left to say is this: If you love the book, please let someone else know it. You can tell a friend or post a review. The only way I can stay a success and writing full-time is through your continued support. I’m very appreciative of everyone you do.

Enjoy release day! DD

She’s the one fire he may not be able to control.

Firehouse 69, Book 1

When a roof collapse kills his best friend and his girlfriend clears out his apartment and leaves, firefighter John Cooper knows he shouldn’t sit alone in his empty apartment. But when he accepts an invitation to Club LaForge, his feet get colder with every step he takes inside.

The sights, sounds and smells of the BDSM club make him sweat, and not because he’s turned off. Yet he can’t bring himself to admit—to himself, or to his luscious guide, Moira—that this lifestyle might just be what he needs.

An experienced BDSM trainer, Moira senses that Coop is not only a Dom in the making, but exactly what she’s been looking for. A man to be her lover and her Dom. The only problem is, Coop isn’t looking for anything complicated.

Moira’s willing to start slow and easy, but even once there’s enough trust to bring Coop into her world—and to her Dom—she’s still worried he’ll look for the nearest exit.

Warning: Do you smell smoke? Don’t worry, it’s just a hot and sexy firefighter getting down and dirty. Contains BDSM scenes, ropes, floggers, some spanking, some sharing, and some five-alarm sex.

Buy it now!  Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Samhain | Kobo | iTunes 

Update! Savonna is the winner of the free download!

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One more day. Not even that. Likely if you’ve pre-ordered, the book will hit your Kindle just after midnight. The story’s a novella, not long. You can have it read before the sun comes up. Okay, so maybe I’m just anxious to hear back from you. 🙂

I love the start of a new series. It’s all fresh promises and new people to crawl inside of—five firefighters, in addition to two you’ve already met, Aiden and Billy, from the previous books in the Delta Heat series:

Knox Triplett, lieutenant
Noah Turner, firefighter
John Cooper, firefighter
Gage Eastwood, firefighter
Luke Harris, rookie

The first is Coop’s story. I think Noah’s will be next. Each will be very, very sinfully delicious. Read another tease below…

Post a comment today to win a free download of your choice
from among any of my Samhain novellas!

Excerpt

With her heels digging into the backs of his shoulders, Coop knew Moira was right fucking there. So was he. He grimaced as he slammed his hips forward, forcing her to withdraw her hands. With one hand cupping her rump to hold her the height he needed, and fingers still pumping into her ass, he was a little too busy to concentrate. Ambidextrous, he was not. It was hard to keep on task.

Calling her slut had made her expression soften, her lips poutier. The word had done something to him too. Made him powerful and then immediately remorseful, shamed for feeling that way. She wanted it, but he wasn’t comfortable giving it. His upbringing, which required that he always treat a woman like a lady even when she wasn’t behaving like one, might be a little too ingrained.

Still didn’t soften his dick one iota. Gazing down at her, he found he was searching her face for clues, looking for indications he was getting this right, giving her what she needed. Something he usually took for granted with his partners because what he brought always seemed to be enough.

With Moira, he wasn’t sure. For one thing, she wasn’t sinking her nails into him. Her hands were curled beside her head, her gaze clinging to his face, begging him silently. He wanted to ask her what she needed but sensed she didn’t want to direct him. He’d have to figure this out himself. Go with his gut.

Only once had his gut failed him.

He swallowed, halting his motions. He stared down at her and a drop of sweat trickled from his hairline down his cheek to his nose and then plopped on her cheek.

Moira angled her face and swiped the droplet as it veered toward her mouth.

Sexy as hell. He was driving into two of her three orifices, staring at the third. She was his. He could take her any way he wanted. And she was waiting….to see whether he was worthy? Whether he’d figure her out?

He remembered the dude on the stage at La Forge. The one with the ridiculous saw-blade hair. He’d been in control, and while he’d paddled  the woman, burned her skin, he’d never been too crude about it. Never made her an object. His tone had remained intimate, respectful, even when he’d called her slut.

He’d given her what she’d wanted—no, needed—and never taken a thing from her, except perhaps the pleasure of knowing he’d given Britney pleasure.

Coop wanted to be like that. Wanted to see Moira’s eyes flare with pleasure and respect. He wanted her to trust him. For her to know that if she fell through the roof, he’d catch her.

He bowed his head, dropping it to lie against her shoulder to hide his face, seeking privacy while he came to terms with his emotions.

Grief was still there at the fleeting, unwanted thought of that roof and the black cloud of smoke that had burned his eyes to tears. He hadn’t failed Danny. He knew it in his heart. Danny’s death had been out of his control. Lack of control was the crux of his problem.

The woman beginning to quiver beneath him was a gift he didn’t deserve, but one he wasn’t about to refuse. She was giving him the means to take back control, if only for the short time they’d come together. She was willing to let him take charge, take her wherever he wanted in any way he desired. She’d offer him only her unequivocal submission.

The thought was combustive to his libido, but also a sweet balm to his soul.

* * * * *

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