I decided to make it mighty easy this month.

All you have to do to be entered to win is leave a comment below with an answer to a question. Tell me what you first thought about the title. Been wondering what people think of it! *GRINS*

So without further adieu, I give you…Orgasm University…

Victoria’s been called frigid by every boyfriend she’s ever had. Having never gotten off during sex with even one of them probably has something to do with it. But none of them knew how broken she really is. She not only hasn’t gotten off having sex, she’s never orgasmed…ever.

Then she sees an interdepartmental memo for a university study that claims it can help with her little problem. Once she signs her name on the dotted line, Dr. Hotlidge, finds all the right buttons to push.

He’s been looking for the perfect subject for his grant study, but something’s been missing from each of the women he’s questioned so far. Everything changes when Jane Smith #129 steps into his exam room.

It’s supposed to be anonymous, clinical research and nothing more. But when he finds her inner submissive hiding just below the surface, they both find more than they bargained for.

A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt –

No matter how tightly she crossed her legs she couldn’t stop the shimmy. Tiny tremors raced up from her stiletto heels, which continued to vibrate at a nervous frequency.

She tried focusing on the magazine she’d already flipped through three times, but couldn’t have told anyone in the doctor’s waiting room if she’d read Marie Claire or Horse and Hound.

Throughout the day in her office across campus she’d decided to cancel her appointment a gazillion times. The same number of times, plus one, she’d convinced herself there was no harm in coming.

Coming. That pretty much said it all, or not at all in her case.

A two-syllable word, completely absent from her sex life and the reason she sat in the non-descript tan vinyl chair waiting for her name to be called.

Jane Smith #129, at least that’s what it said on the top of her mandatory anonymous paperwork. She’d already filled out and handed back the stack of signed forms to the friendly receptionist behind the sliding glass partition.

Victoria tossed the magazine onto the glass of the metal coffee table in front of her. The multi-colored stack of pages slipped from the slick surface, landing in a puddle on a rather beautiful rectangular rug. Her aim was remarkably akin to her ability to orgasm, close, but no cigar.

She stood on shaky legs, her gray linen pants falling precisely to the top of her arched foot while she straightened her tailored white blouse.

She retrieved the offending pile of articles and advertisements, laying it safe and secure onto the low table. If only finding her “O” face were as easy, she wouldn’t have to be here. If any of the other John Hopkins department heads found out she’d signed up for this study, she’d be the laughing stock of the whole university. She could even lose her job as assistant dean of the physics department if word got out she—

A door off to the side whooshed opened and her heart lodged in her throat as a nurse said, “Jane Smith #128?”

A shy brunette maybe a few years older than her, grabbed her purse, making her way toward the woman who held the door along with a clipboard.

Victoria collapsed back into her chair, thankful she was the only woman left in the light blue-walled room. The colors were lovely, the décor probably tasteful if she could focus on anything other than her rapid pulse.

She glanced out the window, trying to calm herself. The sunset from the top floor of the graduate research building warmed her.

Being called “frigid in bed” by her last three boyfriends had really started to wear on her confidence. Something, she’d never had to deal with before, growing up in a wealthier than average household.

Nervousness was the sign of a weak mind, her late father had always told her. She never got anxious at doctor’s visits. Normally, there was no point, but her appointment with Dr. Hotlidge was as far from normal as anyone could get.

She smoothed her shoulder-length curly hair, closing her eyes, taking a deep breath.

Learning why she couldn’t orgasm was something she’d wanted to know for a long time and honestly didn’t think anyone was out there who could help her. The interdepartmental memo that crossed her desk a few weeks prior said differently. It was a memo like so many others she’d seen and tossed in the round file. But the research this study was granted money for? A spot light might as well have illuminated it from above as little kinky angels sang the Hallelujah Chorus.

They were looking for women just like her.

Ages twenty-five to forty-five, open ethnicity, healthy, with a recent check-up from a physician proclaiming them functional in every way. Well, almost.

But it’s not research on a new skin care product or a diet pill. No, this was something much more important. This was about orgasms. Well, the lack of her ability to have them during sex, or in the shower, or with toys. She batted a big fat zero at the ripe old age of thirty-three.

She almost grabbed another magazine for distraction, but an unbelievably sexy guy stepped up to the counter behind the glass partition.

He gestured toward a folder, saying something she couldn’t hear. Whether the glass was soundproof or if all the blood rushing in her ears blocked the vibrations she didn’t know.

He flipped through the contents of the folder then looked right at her.

The world paused for a few brief seconds.

Her heart pounded away in her chest and at the top juncture of her thighs. That realization alone made her look away. Tunnel vision clouded her sight because she’d stopped breathing. She took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. When she could see again, she stole another glance but he was gone. The same female nurse who’d been calling for patients stood in his spot.

Wondering if it was relief or disappointment running through her veins would have to be left for another day.

The locked door opened into the waiting room and by process of elimination it was her turn.

“Ms. Smith, we’re ready for you.”

After grabbing her things, she prepared to bail.

Excuses disguised as explanations swam in her head. This isn’t for me. I got called away. You can’t help. I’ll figure it out on my own.

But she surprised herself, going so far as attempting to smile at the nurse ushering her through the doorway.

Buy Links:

Orgasm University on Ellora’s Cave
Orgasm University on Amazon
Orgasm University on Barnes & Noble

The other books in the Members Only Series can be found here…
Together In Cyn
Haleigh’s Ink
A Very Menage Christmas
Duke’s Valentine

Jennifer Kacey is a wife, mother, and business owner living with her family in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.

Website – https://www.jenniferkacey.com/
Facebook –
https://www.facebook.com/jennifer.kacey.7
Twitter –
https://twitter.com/JenniferKacey
Goodreads –
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6941549.Jennifer_Kacey
Pinterest – https://pinterest.com/jenniferkacey/

Update: The winner of the free download is…Gail Siuba!

* * * * *

Ever have a character in a book who was larger than life, who you knew would scare the crap out of you if you met him in the real world? Not because you’re afraid he’ll do you physical harm, but because he’s so intense?

Meet Mondo Acevedo. And he’s a Dom. The last man standing in his very close-knit, kinky band of brothers in blue. Readers have been asking for his story since the first of my Delta Heat books came out. It’s been a long wait. There were five other stories leading up to this one. I know you won’t mind the wait. Not once you reach THE END.

If you read the story, I hope you’ll be moved to write a review. They really do help other readers make their buying choices. Thanks!

Buy Links: Samhain | Amazon | B&N

Post a comment today, and you’ll be in the running to
win a free download of your choice of one of the prequel stories!

Here’s what the story is all about…

It’s time for this Dom to learn he may not always know what’s best.

When his four Memphis PD friends needed to let off steam, Mondo helped them all navigate the BDSM world—his world—and find the women of their dreams. Now the vice cop and La Forge Master/Dom is the last single man standing. And he’s feeling a little like the odd man out.

He’s been waiting a long time for the right woman, one strong enough to match his dark passions. A timid grade school teacher definitely doesn’t make the short list.

Sunny Boudreau was content with her rather prosaic life until a trio of lovers moves in next door. But as she gets to know them and all their friends, she’s drawn to the edge of their ménage/BDSM play. She’s tempted to take the plunge—except Mondo warns her off.

Her first taste of the club only whets her appetite and ignites her desire to prove she’s exactly the woman Mondo’s been hungering for.

Warning: BDSM play at your favorite kinky club, group play at home, some fun BDSM, girl-on-girl kissing, an orgy…the usual for our boys in blue.

Excerpt:

Sunny refused to think about what she was doing, concentrating instead on moving one foot in front of the other, despite her trepidation and embarrassment. Part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this, walking nude into a roomful of strangers. The other part clung to the sight of the man walking in front of her. Anger at how quickly he’d dismissed her commitment to this path without really knowing her fueled her forward movement.

He didn’t know how lonely she was, how out of step she was with her acquaintances at work. They had their boyfriends, had their plain vanilla sex, their ordinary lives, when she dreamed of something more. Something rare and exciting. Not until she’d met Pansy had she understood her need to explore her true nature.

Since the night she’d masturbated, knowing full well Mondo watched, she’d devoured every book she could find on BDSM and fetishes, and much of what she’d read left her feeling as though she’d only been half alive before. And now she stood on a precipice, ready to take the dive into deeper, dark waters.

And Mondo was the key. The teacher she needed. Already he was more attractive, more mysterious and dangerous than anyone she’d ever met. As a vice cop, he faced dangers at work she could only imagine. A far cry from her own job, which she loved, but which didn’t fill her need for adventure.

Her first sight of him, standing on her doorstep, had taken her breath.

Even now, wearing his collar, her breaths were so shallow she had to consciously force them to deepen or risked fainting. And wouldn’t Mondo love it if she did, proving he’d been right all along? Following Mondo out of his playroom and into the noisy, boisterous salon took an act of courage—courage she hadn’t known she possessed. Just summoning up the nerve to step inside La Forge fully dressed had taken nearly everything she had.

She didn’t like crowds, had hated lining up with the others who hoped they’d be chosen for play and instruction, on display for an entire room of barely dressed people to be eyed like they were trussed-up chickens in a meat market.

Pansy had wanted to take her shopping, to buy something sexy and appropriately subbie, but Sunny had hesitated. Sure, she’d read a lot about the lifestyle, but she wasn’t prepared to act as though she knew more than she did.

Everything she’d read had excited her, but she knew herself well enough to know she had to enter this adventure on her own terms, be completely herself, or she’d balk at the last minute from fear and embarrassment.

The fact that Mondo had managed to get her out of her clothes so quickly and striding toward the noisy room was a testament to how much she wanted him as a teacher. Or perhaps how much she wanted to prove him wrong. Anger continued to fuel her bravado.

Pansy had extolled his skills, his sensitivity, his strength. She’d told Sunny that he could push a sub farther than her pre-conceived limits—and it had to be true, because already she was naked and aroused—something any of the dozens of players turning their way to note their passage would see. Her nipples were tightly beaded, her areolas dimpled. Moisture was pooling between her legs. She hoped the dim lighting would hide the gleam between her thighs.

Shutting the others out before she lost her nerve, she kept her gaze on Mondo’s broad shoulders as he moved with purpose through the center of the room, past chairs and sofas where a dizzying array of sexual acts were occurring.

Her mouth dropped as she spotted Pansy, bent forward with Billy holding her hands to provide her balance, her pregnant belly bared, while Beau clapped his hand on her naked bottom—not harshly enough to rock her body, but her cheeks were pink, her pussy flushed and engorged—for anyone to see.

Sunny’s cheeks burned for her new friend. Taking another step, she bumped into Mondo, who turned his head and gave her a searing glance. “Sorry, Sir,” she mumbled, not able to meet his knowing gaze, because she’d been caught staring at another woman’s pussy.

“That interested you?” he asked, pointing his chin toward Pansy, whose desperate gaze met Sunny’s.

Pansy gasped at the next thudding clap and then winked.

Sunny swallowed hard, surprised at how much she envied Pansy’s predicament. Meeting Mondo’s hard gaze, she quivered inside. Sensing he’d know if she tried to give him anything less than the truth, she admitted her interest with a whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

Mondo stepped closer, forcing her head up to maintain their locked gazes. A hand slipped between her thighs, fingers gliding in the moisture coating her smooth outer labia. Shock sent a shiver straight up her spine at the intimate touch, and she nearly reached out to push his hand away.

Without any emotion in his eyes, Mondo smiled. “I’ll touch you however I want. No matter who watches.”

She nodded, but gasped a quick, “Yes, Sir,” when he pinched her swollen clit.

The urge to widen her stance, to invite further caresses warred with the chilling awareness that others watched.

Mondo gave her a long look. Everything inside her made her want to lower her gaze, to hide the longing surging up inside her. For him. For what this place offered. How much of that longing was for him specifically or for what he might be able to teach her, she wasn’t sure. But she held his gaze, braving out the tense moment.

Mondo gave a soft grunt and then glanced around them. Heads turned swiftly away at his glare.

She ducked her head, averting her gaze as she’d been instructed. She almost smiled at his irritation but firmed her lips to hide her amusement. The fact she wanted to smile when she was nude and vulnerable surprised her. She’d never done this before. Even with the few lovers she’d had, she was quick to find a robe rather than parade naked.

“I want you to watch with me tonight,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Be my shadow. When I pause, you kneel. When I move, you follow.” He trailed a finger down the side of her face. “If I caress you, you will let me see whether you feel pleasure or discomfort. Hide nothing.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered and then wet her lips, wishing he’d kiss her again.

His sensuous, firm mouth quirked up at one side. “You are a surprise.”

Her mouth twitched. “Sir?”

“Yes, Sunny?”

“Will you make love to me tonight?”

He pulled his head back and looked down at her, his eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “I shouldn’t. You’re bold and shouldn’t be rewarded. You have a lot to learn.”

“You didn’t say you won’t.” The further narrowing of his eyes told her she’d displeased him. Quickly, before he could respond, she slowly knelt in front of him. “You paused, Sir.”

Mondo’s teeth flashed. He shook his head. “Dios, the things I want to do with you.”

UPDATE: The winner of this free download is…Linda Richter!

* * * * *

Can you tell I had fun with the titles for my Delta Heat series? Five Ways ‘Til Sunday, Fournicopia, A Perfect Trifecta, Twice the Bang…and now, Once is Never Enough. I like it when I have a title that completely captures the essence of the story. It doesn’t happen all that often, but it worked this time!

I hope you enjoy the excerpt. I hope you’ve pre-ordered your copy of the last book in the series. If not, click on the cover at the right! You really don’t want to miss Mondo’s fall. One more day!

Post a comment today, and you’ll be in the running
to win a free download of Twice the Bang!

Who says it’s better to share your toys?

Delta Heat, Book 4

Beau McIntyre has had his eye on Pansy Patton for a while. But after their friends’ coming out party—where Pansy wears nothing but a sexy smile—Beau isn’t the only one jockeying for the best view of her pretty backside. Realizing it was a mistake to opt for a drawn-out seduction, Beau plans on staking his claim.

Billy Sorenson knows he’s out of his league with a submissive like Pansy, but it was lust at first sight. Now he’ll do whatever it takes to have her, even if he has to be penciled into her schedule for equal time.

A smoking-hot firefighter with ice-blue eyes, or a mysterious cop…what’s a girl to do? Pansy has the answer: refuse to choose and savor the consequences of both men pursuing her.

Doe she expect her lovers to play fair? Oh, no. She’s hoping they’ll play dirty. Real dirty…

Warning: Contains m/f/m and f/f/m scenes, paintball and other sexy ball games, flogging, and one wild orgy of pleasure.  

A low whistle sounded, followed by a sharp elbow to Beau McIntyre’s ribs.

He winced and aimed a glare at Craig. Craig’s green eyes were narrowed and glinting beneath his blond brows despite the subdued lighting at their table.

Only his buddy Craig wasn’t looking Beau’s way. He stared toward the entrance of the Emerald Tavern.

Beau followed his gaze and froze. No further explanation was necessary. The sight that greeted him had him pushing up from the table, ready to confront the couple strolling arm in arm into the bar.

“Isn’t this his night?” Mondo asked, the slight Latin inflection in his voice adding an edge to his sly amusement.

“It’s my damn bar,” Beau said, then quickly wiped the frown from his face. Beau didn’t make scenes, rarely wore his emotions where anyone else might see. But fucking hell. Of all the bars in Memphis, Billy Sorensen had to choose this one?

Beau was certain their appearance here wasn’t an accident. When Billy’s crystal-blue gaze swung toward him and narrowed, Beau recognized the challenge. Bring it on, man!

Another of his buddies, Gus, grunted. “Wow, did he just—?”

“Yep, he did,” came a feminine drawl. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Beau? Can’t let some fireboy diss you in your own damn bar.”

That last bit had Beau’s lips twitching, because it was coming from Marti, the actual owner of the bar and his buddy Jackson’s fiancée. The short sprite with a blue streak in her hair that matched her wild-child heart had attitude—all of it bad. And she’d just upped the challenge.

His gaze went straight to Pansy Patton, who seemed oblivious to the storm brewing and who had yet to spot Beau and his crew.

“Mmm-mmm,” Gus said, rearranging his large frame in his chair. “Never noticed your girl’s legs.”

“That’s because every time you’ve seen her,” Mondo murmured, “she’s been naked. Her pretty breasts take the attention away from those slender stems.”

Beau’s own gaze roamed Pansy’s slender, nicely curved legs. Pansy wasn’t any bigger than a minute, but she was perfectly proportioned—plump, but not overly large breasts, a slender waist that sloped outward to full hips that topped a lovely, lightly muscled pair of stems.

His body tightened, his cock sucking the juice from his veins to feed the pulse throbbing in his groin. The last time he’d seen Pansy, she’d had those legs parted, her hamstrings stretched as she’d reached to clasp her ankles at his command.

That had been at Craig, Jenn and Aiden’s coming-out party, the celebration the trio had hosted where they’d opened their home and the underpinnings of their unusual relationship to their closest friends.

Getting into the spirit of things that night, Beau had joined in the free-spirited antics, homing in on Pansy the moment she’d walked through the playroom door sporting only a smile. From her short blonde hair to her pink-tipped toenails, Beau’s interest had spiked past the flirtation they’d shared over the last several months.

The only fly in the ointment had been the appearance of Aiden’s firehouse buddy, Billy, who’d been quick to sidle up to her unclaimed side the moment sexy Domme, Aislinn, started whipping Gus.

Billy hadn’t seemed comfortable watching a man getting paddled. But when Pansy had been led by Mondo to the spanking bench, Billy had stood slack-jawed as Mondo coaxed silky cream and broken groans from the pint-sized Venus.

Both Billy and Beau had stood to the side, admiring the tensing of her muscles, the pink stripes on her tender flesh and the way her pussy had grown lushly wet, her channel opening as her knees inched farther and farther apart.

She’d all but begged to have her pussy spanked. Mondo had at last shown mercy, turning the paddle to push the smooth handle into her vagina, fucking her gently while he rubbed and pinched her clit.

Her orgasm had arrived with a thin, warbling scream, and he and Billy had exchanged quick hard glances before jostling each other to be the one to release her from her bonds and help her to her feet.

For the rest of the night, they’d relentlessly pursued Pansy, who at one point spread her arms, palms slamming against both men’s chests. “Enough!” she’d said, then blown at a lock of chin-length blonde hair that had fallen into her cornflower-blue eyes. “I’m flattered, but you’re both exhausting.” Read the rest of this entry »

UPDATE: The winner of the free download (chosen by a random number
generator) is…Jen B! Jen, I’ll be in contact shortly! Congrats!

* * * * *

We’re gettin’ closer…

I can’t wait to see what you all think of Mondo’s story. Those of you who haven’t read the series, well, you don’t know him yet and don’t understand my anticipation. But there are some folks out there who’ve been waiting since book one to see my sexy Latin Dom’s story!

Just two more days!!

In the meantime, here’s another excerpt from one of the prequel books. A Perfect Trifecta was a blast to write. Aiden’s a hard-ass who needs the tender lovin’ only two lovers, one female and one male, can give him. Enjoy!

Post a comment today, and you’ll be in the running
to win a free download of A Perfect Trifecta!

Playing with pain can put you in a world of hurt…or bliss.

Playing switch in front of a La Forge BDSM club audience was supposed to be a one-time fling. A favor for a friend. Instead, when Craig Eason realizes he’s caught the attention of an enigmatic, powerful Dom across the crowded room, he senses this could be the man he’s been looking for to test the boundaries of his own sexuality.

Firefighter Aiden Byrne is a very private man with strong S&M longings he keeps in check for everyone else’s safety. His sub, Jennifer Callum, thinks she likes it rough, but he can’t let go the way he’d like to. Until one defiant stare from the handsome cop on the La Forge stage causes Aiden’s most dangerous needs to uncoil from the deepest, darkest part of his soul.

With the blessing—and active involvement—of his sub, a seduction is set in motion that ends in a scene that shakes them all to the core…

Product Warnings: Contains a powerful, burly firefighter who plans to take everything a hot cop thinks he knows about himself and send it up in smoke. Please replace the batteries in all your smoke detectors before reading this book. Contains scenes with m/m/f, m/m, spanking, flogging, restraints, and one wild orgy of pleasure.

At the sound of her feminine distress, Aiden sighed, pleased with her. Surprised, too, with how well he and Craig had worked her, together.

Every bit of pride was dashed. Her body trembled uncontrollably. Right this moment, she was beaten. Remorseful for her earlier maneuvering. A sorry now wouldn’t be remiss, but he didn’t expect it. She could barely think, she was so over-stimulated and disappointed.

Now was the time to bring her back. She wouldn’t be looking for any heavy-duty pain, just release. He could be with her the way he needed, the way that didn’t scare him. And Craig would add an extra bonus to let her know that her Dom cared enough about her upset to make it up to her in a grander way.

“Roll the bed from the corner, Craig,” he murmured to the other man, softly enough she couldn’t hear over her harsh, sobbing breaths.

Craig gave a nod. His face was flushed. His body gleaming with sweat.

Aiden had yet to use him as anything other than a helper, but he supposed it was time to reward Craig for doing everything he’d asked while managing to remain suitably dominant during his interactions with Jenn. Craig appeared to naturally glide toward dominance with a woman.

While Craig rolled the bed to the center of the room, Aiden circled the bench and knelt. He unclipped the clamps and set them aside, then unstrapped Jenn’s arms and ankles. She didn’t move. Her face was pressed into the leather upholstery. Tears smeared her cheeks.

Aiden raised a hand and cupped her head, giving her hair a caress. “Are you all right?” he asked, but he knew he hadn’t pressed too far. He waited to see whether she’d lie and berate him or snuffle some more.

She surprised him by sniffing then wiping the tears from her cheeks before turning her head to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”

“For trying to top you.”

He leaned close to press his forehead against hers. “I’m not angry with you. I expect it.”

Her lips curved, slightly. “And I expect punishment.” Her wet, starred lashes fanned downward.

He kissed her temple. “You’re always free to call a halt.”

“I wouldn’t. Ever,” she said breathlessly.

So she always said. She insisted on there being no safe word between them. “Just so you know you can,” he said, speaking slowly to make sure she understood.

She gave a little nod, more of kitten’s caress that rubbed against his hand. Cute. Lord, she was beautiful. Perfect for him. Why hadn’t he fallen in love with her? His chest filled. Grew tight.

He pushed up and walked behind her. He gripped the edges of the plug and slowly pulled it free. Then he opened a drawer in the bench and pulled out a packet of wet wipes. Once he’d cleaned her, he walked to the sink and washed the plug thoroughly, drying his hands on a towel before drawing deep breaths to steady himself.

He turned and faced the two who awaited his next command. She remained lying on the bench, her fingers beside her face. Her skin flushed and gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat.

Craig stood beside the bed, his head bowed, subservient now. Not a partner. By the strength of the arousal that kept his cock erect and pointing upward, he had hopes he’d be put to service in another way.

Well, it was time, wasn’t it?

Aiden schooled his face into a neutral mask, calming his expression while he forced his body, and especially his cock, to follow suit. “Boy…undress me.”

Craig’s eyes, though lowered, glittered with excitement as he strode toward Aiden. He knelt in front of him, then indicated with a hand that he wanted Aiden’s foot.

Aiden raised his foot and placed it on Craig’s naked thigh. Craig quickly unlaced the black leather work boot and pulled it off, tugged off the sock, then indicated for the other foot.

While his new boy worked, his head bent over his task, Aiden let his gaze roam over Craig. He noted the thick blond hair, broad shoulders and lean musculature. Craig was fit with nice definition in his abs. But his movie-star good looks weren’t what drew Aiden’s attention.

It was his precise attention to detail, the tension that rolled off him, as though he held back, knowing the reward would be great. He would submit because he wanted something. Not because he desired to serve.

And Aiden wanted a crack at that. Wanted to break the other man down, knowing in his gut that at the end, Craig was the kind of sub who would only serve one person—that while he played at submission, he wasn’t truly committed. He saw everything as a game with an end—turbocharged orgasms. Something Aiden wouldn’t tolerate from a sub of his own.

Craig dropped the second boot and sock then paused. His shoulders rose around a deep inhalation as he worked up his nerve. Aiden suppressed a smile and hardened his face, waiting for the moment Craig would look up.

Which he did a moment later. His glance skated up Aiden’s body, then met with Aiden’s. Aiden raised one brow.

Challenge issued, Craig’s gaze narrowed and dropped. His hands went to the button at Aiden’s waistband. He thumbed it open, gripped the tongue of the zipper and the fabric between his hands and pulled it down, careful to avoid touching Aiden’s cock. Then, inserting his fingers inside the waist of the pants, he peeled them off.

Goose bumps prickled all over Aiden’s skin at the first touch of the backs of Craig’s fingers against the sides of his thighs. He lifted his feet one at a time to pull free of the leather, then backed away from Craig and walked toward the bed where Jenn watched through the fringe of her dark lashes.

UPDATE: The winner of the free download (chosen by a random
number generator) is…catslady!

* * * * *

I’ve been so busy helping out my daughter who just opened her own business in our small town that I’ve ignored my email and my own work schedule. One thing I can’t forget is that I have a new Delta Heat book releasing next Tuesday! If you haven’t already pre-ordered it, click on the cover to the right. You won’t want to  miss the last installment of this series! In the meantime, have fun with the second book in the series. And don’t you love that title? It still makes me smile. 🙂

Post a comment today, and you’ll be in the running
to win a free download of Fournicopia!

Forget the sugar. Send her the spice.

Delta Heat, Book 2

Gus Taggert knows a setup when he sees one. The doughnut shop his police officer buddies have sent him to, Cornucopia, is too frilly. Too pink. Then the woman behind the counter serves up a mini-lesson in submission that leaves him ready and willing to obey her order to see her tonight at La Forge BDSM club.

The large, burly cop is exactly the kind of alpha guy that newly minted Domme Aislinn Darby has been dying to tie up and spank. Yet after she puts him through his paces, she finds herself eager to let him take control—something she’s never before enjoyed with a man.

Determined to find out once and for all if she has what it takes to control a scene, she orders him up for one more go. Only this time, she intends to ensure he remembers who’s in charge. She’s even willing to offer a little bribe: accept her dictates, and his reward is her—any way he wants her.

Except when it’s time for payback, it comes with several twists she never saw coming.

Warnings: When a male sub decides to turn the tables on his pretty Domme, he calls for backup from his best friends. Contains scenes with m/m/f, m/f/m, f/f, spanking, restraints, and an orgy of pleasure no woman can resist.

Gus Taggert knew it was a cliché. A cop in a doughnut shop. The officers waiting for him to arrive for the sergeant’s morning meeting didn’t like making the run because of the inevitable roll of the eyes or smartass grin they’d get standing in line.

However, he didn’t mind being the “doughnut guy”. The plus for being the brunt of any jokes was that he ate for free. That was okay with him. He took any pointed looks or lame jokes in stride. He was an affable guy. Hard to rile.

He’d learned long ago to stifle his anger and look for the good in people, even when they messed up. Being oversized and strong, he’d always had to be more careful throwing his weight around. People could get hurt, and that wasn’t why he’d been drawn to law enforcement. He wasn’t a bully in a uniform.

Gus liked being a cop. Liked what it stood for. Loved the black uniform and the camaraderie of his brother cops. He didn’t mind that his closest buds were all moving on to bigger and better things. He liked being a beat cop. Liked patrolling the neighborhood he lived in and getting to know the people he protected.

His father had been a small-town cop, and his father before him had been the sheriff of their little Arkansas berg. But then his mom had moved to Memphis—not because she’d wanted to, but because when his mom and dad divorced, she’d wanted to start fresh where everyone didn’t know her business and didn’t whisper to her ex about who she was seeing next.

Gus had missed his old school and friends, but had a natural gift for making new ones. That he was big and brawny, quick on his feet despite his size, had made him a natural for the football team.

And that’s where he’d met Jackson Teague and Craig Eason, who surprisingly enough, wanted to be cops too when they graduated.

They’d all gone to college together, applied for the police academy and been accepted. That’s where they’d met the remaining members of their current posse, Beau McIntyre and Mondo Acevedo.

So, Gus was never lonely. He had his peeps, a job he loved, a city that kept him on his toes. And today, he was on his way to explore a new doughnut shop.

Mondo, although now in vice and no longer attending the station-house morning meetings, had given him a roll of bills the night before. “Treat the guys to doughnuts. On me.”

Gus had glanced at the roll. “This is too much.”

“Not for the place I want you to go.”

He should have known from the gleam in Mondo’s dark brown eyes that something was up, but Gus liked to think the best of people. Maybe Mondo really did just want to treat the guys to something special.

Well, it was special all right. Not like any doughnut shop Gus had ever seen before. He stood on the street in front of the small store front, eyeing the painted glass window with its pink awning, and felt the first rumbles of misgiving.

Cornucopia. He’d had to Google it last night to get the address and to see what the name meant. A horn of plenty. A familiar Thanksgiving ornament. But there weren’t ears of corn or squashes spilling from the dark pink horn painted on the glass. Doughnuts looking like Christmas presents, painted with ribbons and sparkling with stars, spilled from the mouth of the horn.

All the pink and frothy cuteness made him itch. However, he’d been given a wad of cash and a mission to buy a couple dozen doughnuts from this specific shop. For once, his cheeks burned at the idea.

Hitching up his utility belt, he blew out a deep breath that billowed his cheeks and pushed the glass door. A bell at the top tinkled.

Inside, the shop was pretty much what he’d expected—pale purple tiled flooring, white-painted iron bistro tables, boxes decorated in frou-frou paper and ribbons stacked at one end of the sparkling clean glass-front counter.

Thankfully, the shop was empty. Maybe he could back out, say it’d been closed when he came by, and he could hit a Dunkin Donuts on the way to the station house.

As soon as he’d made up his mind to leave, he heard a stirring from the back, and rather than be caught with one foot still on the sidewalk outside like he was scared to come inside, he stepped through the door and held the bell so it didn’t chime again.

“Have a thing for bells?” came a husky feminine voice.

His gaze darted back to the counter, his cheeks filling with heat. A woman stood there, every bit as pretty and dainty as her little shop, with dark red hair, pale-as-dinner-china white cheeks and large brown eyes. The kind of woman he avoided like the plague because he always felt like a lumbering bear beside them.

What had she asked? Oh, yeah, the bells. He didn’t have a thing for them, he’d only wanted to be quiet and not charge into the place like a bull in a china shop. “No, ma’am.”

“That’s a nice start,” she said, her voice dropping again into a sexy, shivering whisper.

Gus’s cheeks burned hotter, because he knew she’d just made a joke and he didn’t understand it. Further, meeting her amused gaze proved surprisingly difficult. He had the urge to duck his head. To wait for permission to come closer.

Her amusement faded. “Come in, officer,” she said with brisk efficiency. “Can I help you with something?”

He cleared his throat, scuffed his boots on the doormat, like that was why he’d paused coming in, and stepped deeper inside the shop. “I’m just here to buy some doughnuts.”

“I don’t sell just doughnuts.” Her voice sharpened.

Had he insulted her somehow? He came closer to the counter. “They’re pretty doughnuts.”

“I’m a trained pastry chef. These are gourmet doughnuts.”

Like he’d said, they were pretty, but he didn’t get what it was she expected him to say. He thrust his hand into his pocket and took out the roll of bills Mondo had given him. “Mondo said you’d fix me up.”

“Mondo…” Her eyes sparkled for a moment, then narrowed. “Show me which you’re interested in.”

He reached out to point at one confection sitting on a tray atop the glass counter. The doughnut looked more like a pretty cupcake and was covered in glaze with star-shaped silver beads glinting on the top. “Some of these?”

Her hand shot out and slapped the top of his. Not hard, but the loud crack it made startled him. “Ma’am?” he asked, startled she’d dared smack an officer of the law.

“Correct response again,” she said, an edge to her sexy voice. “However, I think you need to come around the counter and make your selection.”

Right about now, he knew his face was beet red. And the collar of his shirt was tightening like a noose, cutting off his air. “Beg your pardon?”

“Come. Now.”

His body reacted to the firm tone with an instant surge of heat straight to his groin. With his balls drawing up, he thought he might embarrass himself further if he got too close to the pretty pastry chef. “Uh, a couple dozen’s all I need,” he said swiftly. “Whatever you want to put into a box.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes. “Mondo’s a friend of mine. He said he was sending me someone special. Don’t disappoint me.”

Mondo was her friend. The way she’d emphasized the word put this strange conversation in a new perspective. Her tone, the hardening glint in her pretty eyes, the stubborn tilt of her chin—good Lord, she was that kind of friend, someone from Mondo’s club, which Gus had visited a time or two out of curiosity first, then growing wonder.

He swallowed hard, beginning to sweat, then slowly made his way around the glass-front counter toward her, seeing the rest of her lovely, slim frame. When he stood a couple feet away, he ducked his head, dropping his gaze. Waiting now, for what he didn’t know, but he knew instinctively she was pleased, because she sighed.

“You’re bigger than I expected.”

Oh hell, what was she looking at? Had his erection become noticeable?

“And you’re better looking.”

He gave a little smile, letting her see it, but still not raising his glance. The parts of her he could watch were fascinating anyway. Her breasts were small but round, and the tips were beginning to poke through her pink-buttoned blouse and lacy bra. Her pale trousers were cinched at the waist with a white leather belt, and it was a tiny trim waist that offset the feminine flare of her hips. Legs proportionate with her body stretched below to pink-tipped toes that peeked out of sandals she wore. His mouth filled with drool. He’d give a week’s wages for the privilege of sucking on them.

She slid open the door to the back of the counter and waved for him to have a look.

Gus wished like hell she’d move back, because standing this close, he got a whiff of her light, floral scent. Beads of sweat popped on his forehead.

Feeling clumsier by the minute, he bent to glance inside the shelves at the array of fancy doughnuts. Sheesh. Not a single plain glazed one. The guys were going to razz the hell out of him.

Suddenly, she stepped behind him, her hands landing on either side of the cabinet to trap him.

He gulped hard. “Ma’am?”

A knee climbed along the inside of one of his thighs, then snuggled against his balls. He froze—blood surged south, filling his cock. Then she slid her knee down and tapped his feet with one of hers, urging him silently to widen his stance.

Which he did. No question or quick denial came to mind. He braced his hands against the glass like a perp ready for a pat-down, dreading and yet eager for whatever she’d do next.

Her hand cupped his balls. “Anything you like?”

Afraid he’d bleat like a goat if he tried to answer, he nodded.

Her fingers closed around his sac, and she gave him a gentle tug. “Me too.”

Then just as quickly, her hand fell away and she moved back.

Gus pushed from the counter and turned.

Her eyes were softer, her expression pleased. She laid a palm against the side of his face. Her thumb stroked his bottom lip. Her gaze dipped to his name tag then back up again. “When I see you next, Officer Taggert,” she whispered, stepping closer, “don’t say a word. Take off your clothes and be ready for whatever I want next.”

UPDATE: The winner (chosen by a random number generator) is…bn100!
Congrats, bn! I’ll be in touch shortly to arrange delivery of your prize!

* * * * *

Next Tuesday, the last of my Delta Heat books releases! Yes, I know—there are some of you out there who will be very sad to see the last of my merry band of Memphis PD cops. I had fun writing the five stories in this trilogy, but all good things must come to an end. But don’t you worry. You will very likely be seeing these same characters floating through a new series of stories I’ll be writing about a Memphis firehouse, so don’t cry too hard. 🙂

Now, if you’ve missed the prequel books to Once is Never Enough, there’s no time like now to catch the heck up. Over the next few days, I’ll be spotlighting scenes from the prequels and offering chances for folks to win a free book—nope, not Once! And if you’ve already read all the prequel books, I’m sure there’s a downloadable book somewhere on my backlist you might enjoy. So y’all come play!

Post a comment today, and you’ll be in the running
to win a free download of Five Ways ‘Til Sunday!

“FIVE WAYS ‘TIL SUNDAY was an awesome read…”
4.5 Stars, Night Owl Reviews

“Delightfully quick read, you are so consumed in the story it is difficult to put it down…”
Sensual Reads

Sometimes a man’s just gotta call for backup…

Marti Kowalski is all wrong for Officer Jackson Teague—he just won’t listen to reason. She didn’t finish high school, runs a bar. Has a tattoo and a blue streak in her hair. Yet he still wants to marry her? She can’t say she’s not tempted, but she’s got a bucket list to complete before she ties the knot.

Not just any bucket—more like a fifty-five-gallon drum of sexual wishes so explicit, there’s no way one man, even Jackson, can fulfill them all.

When Marti turns him down again, Jackson doesn’t give up, he insists on knowing why. That’s when she shows him her list. He takes it, thinks about it—and calls on the only men he can trust: four buddies from his academy graduating class.

Between the five of them, he’s sure they can come up with a plan to check off every item on her list in one wild, wicked weekend. That is, if she has the nerve to follow through—and if he can bear to share her.

Warning: Five men on a mission to break down the resistance of one determined woman. Author suggest readers keep their significant others on speed dial. Not responsible for accidental 911 calls.

Marti Kowalski waved a hand blindly behind her at her desk, swiping the inventory sheets she’d slaved over for the past two days and her telephone to the floor. She didn’t care about the mess—or by the crunch—the loss of her phone. Right this moment, she had Jackson where she wanted him—too far gone with want to worry what damage he might cause.

That his body was hard and his expression carved to a lustful edge, promised the kind of sexy interlude she preferred—something spontaneous and surprising.

Even after all the months they’d been seeing each other, he managed to surprise her. Like now. He’d pulled her from the door of the ladies restroom and goose-stepped her with her arm bent behind her back to the manager’s office, growling menacingly into her ear about the wicked things he’d do to her.

Ma’am, keep quiet and I won’t hurt you.

She’d shivered at the menace in his voice, but he’d rubbed her hip gently to remind her this was just a game.

She had to hand it to him. He knew what made her hot.

Jackson bent her over her desk and shoved up her blouse. His head ducked to pluck a nipple with his lips, and then he bit it.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she gasped, her fingers digging into the rigid Kevlar armor he wore beneath his dark shirt. “You’re on duty. Thought you didn’t cross that line when you’re wearin’ the uniform.”

His head reared back. His dark eyes flashed. “Shut up, ma’am. You draw any attention, and I might have to get rough.”

So he was still playing the role. She widened her eyes. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything.” She tried to infuse a little angst into her voice, but inside she was laughing uproariously.

A glint of humor in his gaze might have just been the reflection of the overhead light because it quickly extinguished. He bared his teeth. A hand snuck between her thighs. A finger tucked beneath one side of the crotch of her panties and tugged. Elastic stretched and gave. His palm crammed against her bare pussy.

There was no hiding how turned on she was. Not when cream smeared his hand.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He drew back, gripped her by the waist and gave her a little shake—just to remind her who was in charge here.

Her head bobbed backward. Her heart skittered at the strength in those large, hard hands. He could so easily hurt her, but was careful to give her just the right kind of pain.

Nostrils flaring, he did a good impression of a criminal intent on doing her bodily harm. She guessed he saw enough of them in his line of work to mimic the look.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Sure this is the way you wanna play it?”

“Baby, don’t stop now,” Marti moaned.

His grunt accompanied the tightening of his hands on the corners of her hips. He gave no warning and whirled her around, then pushed gently on the back of her neck until she folded over her desk.

Her short leather skirt lifted. Hands gripped her cheeks and squeezed. His mouth pressed against her skin.

She huffed. “What kind of a rapist are you?”

“One with an ass fetish.”

She giggled and reached back to push him away, wriggling on the desk like she wanted to escape. “Stop,” she whispered huskily. “Stop or you’ll be sorry. My boyfriend’s a Memphis PD cop.”

Another grunt was his only response. He straightened, his hard body rubbing against the back of her thighs and ass. An arm clamped over her lower back, holding her down. A zipper scraped. His cock nudged against her folds, thick, insistent—lord, Jackson was completely into this naughty game. He found her entrance and drove deep inside in a single, merciless thrust.

Her body arched off the desk. “Oh shit!”

“Did I hurt you?” he muttered, deeply embedded, but unmoving.

Didn’t he know how to play this game? “You’re gonna pay, you bastard,” she said with an edge of a sob in her voice, but she wiggled her butt to let him know it was okay to proceed.

He withdrew slowly then stroked deep again. This time his hands slammed the wood on either side of her shoulders. “Stick it up higher, slut,” he growled. “My balls are bangin’ the desk.”

Slut? He’d never called her that before. She held back a chuckle, hoping the playacting wouldn’t end too soon. Jackson could only keep his focus up to a certain point. Not that she’d truly mind it when he dropped the act. Knowing she was the reason he couldn’t stay in control gave her deep satisfaction. She rose on tip-toe and tilted up her ass.

His cock crowded through juicy, engorged walls, filling her up like no man ever had before. Maybe he really was that big, or maybe she’d never been so excited. Jackson was the best lover she’d ever had—the most adventurous with the most stamina. That his body was ripped like a bodybuilder’s only added to his dangerous appeal.

She gave a short, throaty groan. “Ohmygod, that feels incredible.”

Some people may not know that I was an RN in the psychiatric field for many years. I found it fascinating, mostly because we’re still learning so much about the mind, personality, and behavior of human beings. Now toss into the mix a creative brain and you have something really interesting.

Someone once told me, “You don’t think like other people.” She was a fellow writer and didn’t mean it as an insult. She meant it to help me…and it did.

Writer Juliet Bruce, PhD paraphrased creativity researcher Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi best when speaking of creative people. “Instead of being an individual, they are a multitude.

“Like the color white that includes all colors, they tend to bring together the entire range of human possibilities within themselves. Creativity allows for paradox, light, shadow, inconsistency, even chaos – and creative people experience both extremes with equal intensity.”

I think she meant to say the color ‘black’ since white is the absence of color and black is what you get when you mix all colors together. Oh well…I went to Mass College of Art, so you can blame it on them.

Here are a few qualities he lists, as Bruce summarizes and I identify:

1. A great deal of physical energy alternating with a great need for quiet and rest. (*Check)
2. Highly sexual, yet often celibate, especially when working. (*Check with husband.)
3. Smart and naïve at the same time. A mix of wisdom and childishness. Emotional immaturity along with the deepest insights. (*Um…yup. Double check.)
4. Convergent (rational, left brain, sound judgment) and divergent (intuitive, right brain, visionary) thinking…(*What left brain? The only sound judgment I demonstrate is letting other people take care of the rational stuff.)
5. Both extroverted and introverted, needing people and solitude equally. (*Check—especially at writers conferences.)
6. Humble and proud, both painfully self-doubting and wildly self-confident. (*More about this later.)
7. May defy gender stereotypes, and are likely to have not only the strengths of their own gender but those of the other as well. A kind of psychic androgyny. (*?)

For more, see Bruce’s post “Understanding Creative People” – and Csikszentmihalyi’s classic book Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention, plus his article “The Creative Personality: Ten paradoxical traits of the creative personality.”

It’s that intensity (passion) that can get us writers into trouble, in my opinion. Speaking of painful self-doubt…John Lennon had huge issues with self-esteem. Even during the height of Beetle Mania, he thought he was a fraud.

I vacillate wildly, just as mentioned—especially after reading a review. Horrible thoughts go through my mind if a review is a bit negative. Everything from “What’s the matter with that broad? Can’t she recognize my brilliance?” To, “Oh, God. I’ve been found out. I suck. I’m a hack, and now everyone knows it.” For self-preservation, I no longer read consumer reviews. They seem to be the harshest and my assistant would have to talk me off a ledge.

But when I receive a fan letter (okay, these days it’s an email) I realize I’m doing what I was meant to do. I’ve entertained someone. (Yay!) Even so, I have a hard time using the word ‘fan.’ I have readers. When someone calls themselves a fan of my work, I’m flattered and humbled. When they call themselves a fan of me, my mind goes a little numb. No—they can’t mean that. They don’t know me.

Or do they? How much of who we are goes into our books?

Thomas Wolfe said, “Every novel is an autobiography.” (*Gulp.)

Even though I’ve never met a vampire or werewolf, I have the type of creative imagination that makes them very real. They live in my head. They speak to me and all I do is take dictation. (Talk about crazy!) If they are real to me, they become real to my readers—and apparently that is happening. I received an angry letter because my heroine was “selfish” when she let her true love give up his immortality for her.

Something to note is that I had a different ending to that story—one that the reader would have loved. An editor made me change it, and all I can think now is, “Why did I let myself be pushed around like that? I suck.”

Well, dear reader, I apologize! I shall try to be true to myself and my characters in the future. I’ve always thought of myself as a “girly-girl,” but I can fight like a man if I have to. (That must be where androgyny comes in.) If an editor again tries to force me to compromise part of my story that makes sense, I will drag said editor into the middle of Times Square and…

No. I really won’t. But I’ll be more assertive. I promise.

Here’s where a lot of creative writers (including romance authors) are showing their testosterone levels. We’re taking charge. We’re self-publishing our books. And we’re doing it our way.

Many are just dumping their agents and publishers and have decided to handle the business as well as the creative parts of publishing. The big benefit of this is keeping a much higher percentage of the profits. Even among these authors, the smart ones will hire artists and editing professionals to make a good product better—and then keep the rest.

Some authors (like me) are becoming ‘Hybrids.’ We continue to work with professional publishers and agents for some books, but we self-publish other projects on the side. The self-published books are called ‘Indies.’ My first Indie is The Cupcake Coven (release date May 5, 2014.) Here’s a quick promo:

Pretty Wiccan Rebecca Colby borrowed money from her father to start her bakery, and now he’s calling the loan due. When she learns he fell off the gambling wagon and owes big money to some scary people, she has to start making a profit—quickly—and hope the loan shark takes payment plans before anyone has an “accident.”

Hot cowboy Dru Tanner is looking for his missing sister who left Texas to explore their New England Wiccan roots. She’s the only family he has left and losing her is not an option. Dru has to hide the fact that he’s not Wiccan long enough to infiltrate a Portsmouth, NH coven, which is the only lead he has.

Dru needs a job and a place to stay. Rebecca needs cheap help, and he’s willing to work for nothing. Perhaps he can pick her brain about Wicca and she can learn how to run a business from a ranch foreman—if lust doesn’t drive them crazy first.

Log line– *This was written by Dorine Linnen of Romance Junkies, but it’s better than the one I wrote. LOL

“Entertainment abounds when a coven of witches whip up a few spells to help their friend hold onto her bakery while losing her heart.  Can a long distance romance work between a cowboy and a baker if they believe in magic?” 

I hope you’ll give my crazy brain a chance to entertain you.

The Cupcake Coven should be available at all e-tailers (like Amazon and Barnes and Noble.com) for only $2.99.

Print copies cost a little more, but you can have your library get one. Every sale will help me continue this insane path I’m on. I want to thank my blog host Delilah, and thank you for your support and encouragement.

Here’s a picture of a bracelet I made and will give to one commenter on Delilah’s blog! I know she makes beautiful jewelry too, but just like writing, our styles vary.

Biography of Ashlyn Chase

Ashlyn Chase describes herself as an Almond Joy bar.  A little nutty, a little flaky, but basically sweet, wanting only to give her readers a satisfying experience.

She holds a degree in behavioral sciences, worked as a psychiatric RN for several years and spent a few more years working for the American Red Cross.  She credits her sense of humor to her former careers since comedy helped preserve whatever was left of her sanity.  She is a multi-published, award-winning author of humorous erotic and paranormal romances, represented by the Seymour Agency.

She lives in beautiful New Hampshire with her true-life hero husband who looks like Hugh Jackman with a salt and pepper dye job, and they’re owned by a spoiled brat cat.

Where there’s fire, there’s Ash
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