Before I wrote bounty hunters, I wrote about vampires…

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Answer me this for a chance to win your choice from among my many Night Fall titles!
Bounty Hunters or Vamps and Werewolves?

Truly, Madly…Deadly

Just this once…

On the trail of a serial killer, vampire Quentin Albermarle is mistaken for the killer by a police special task force. Once the smoke clears, Quentin finds himself in a delicious position—atop one of the unit’s crack officers, Darcy Henry. In need of Quentin’s access to the vampire sub-culture, the task force leadership invites Quentin to join the crime unit as a special advisor, much to the chagrin of the men in the unit, and especially, of Darcy.

Caught between opposing forces, vampire and hunter…

A no-nonsense cop with no time for romance, Darcy suddenly finds herself embroiled in a steamy love triangle between her mortal partner, Joe, and the handsome vampire. Going from abstinence to wantonness, she is unable to resist the two men’s relentless seduction or her own sensual curiosity about a vampire’s special “kiss”.

A hunger like no other…

When the real killer threatens the life of someone close to her, Darcy makes a choice that forever binds the three of them together.

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Night Fall Series

“He’s coming in. Get ready.”

Joe’s voice jerked Darcy Henry to wakefulness. Berating herself for dozing off during a stakeout, she fumbled for the switch on her night vision goggles. Instantly, the landscape before her was awash in shades of luminescent green. She scanned the water’s edge. The crests of the ebbing tides rolled onto the beach, unbroken by any sign of “Bat-boy.” Had she already missed her opportunity?

“Where do you see him?” she whispered into her headset, glad the roar of the incoming surf masked their voices.

“Ten o’clock. Get cocked.”

She reached for her crossbow, drew back the linen cord with both hands, and latched it in the spring clip. Then she slid a steel-tipped arrow onto the track. Sighting down the shaft, she braced the bow in her left palm and dug her elbow into the sand. With the stock snug against her shoulder, she slid her right forefinger around the trigger and turned her sights back to the water’s edge—just in time to see a tall figure stride out of the surf.

He fit the description she’d purchased from the barman at the “blood bank” of the new vamp in town. Only, the barman hadn’t filled in all the details. Darcy stiffened against her body’s sudden surge of attraction and firmly reminded herself the vamp’s body was like any other man’s. Yeah, right.

Her gaze flickered over him, inventorying his characteristics—for my After Action Report, of course. Broad-shouldered, leanly muscled, just over six feet tall. Blond, she could tell, despite the fact his hair was plastered to his head. Handsome, too, with broad, prominent cheekbones, a longish straight nose, and lips that appeared permanently curved in a smirk.

Unable to resist the temptation, she adjusted the lenses of her goggles to zoom, and her gaze slipped lower. His package was as fine arriving as his ass had been going into the water. His long, uncircumcised cock dangled between his legs. Something else not mentioned in the barman’s description—and definitely not something that would make it into her AAR.

“Hold up!” Impatience clipped Joe’s words. “A civilian’s in your line of sight.”

Darcy lowered the bow, cursing under her breath. “Where? And how the hell did we miss that?” she whispered angrily.

“She had to have been here when we arrived,” Joe replied. “If I hadn’t seen her hand rise above the dune…”

Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. A vampire spotted on Vero Beach just happened to meet the description of a suspected killer they’d circulated that day.

This night’s stakeout might be a bust, after all. They’d have to track him to his lair and try to take him out while he slept. Dusting a sleeping vampire never sat well with Darcy. Too unsportsmanlike. Asleep, even a probable serial killer like this one who wore an innocent face.

She burrowed deeper into the wet sand at the bottom of her shallow foxhole, prepared to wait it out. This time she wouldn’t doze, no matter how balmy the November night grew. Too many late nights and too little sleep were taking their toll on the whole team. Instead, she concentrated on how uncomfortable she was with damp sand working its way into her clothing and the smell of rotting seaweed all around her.

Having a target to observe helped. Hopefully, the vamp wouldn’t make a meal of his host and force Darcy to intervene. Hand-to-hand with a vamp was a last resort. Humans almost always lost to their superior strength, no matter how many degrees of black belt one had earned.

Joe let out a low whistle. “Damn! How’d a ghoul like that get such a fine piece of ass?”

A woman sat up near the top of a dune, her arms outstretched, revealing a slender back, rounded hips and a cascade of long, dark hair.

The vamp went down on his knees and leaned over her.

Darcy tensed, ready to spring to the woman’s rescue at the first sign of fangs.

Instead, the woman’s back arched to offer her breasts to her lover. His mouth closed over a beaded tip, and the woman’s loud groan of approval was discernible over the rumble of the incoming tide.

Joe’s soft laughter sounded in Darcy’s ear. “Better take notes, Darse. See what you’re missing?”

Darcy knew better than to answer her partner. Any response would only add fodder to the ribbing she’d receive at the Special Unit’s morning briefing. Her lack of social life was already a favorite topic. As it was, she was glad the guys weren’t wired in to her goggles.

Joe’s fed the monitor in the van parked farther down the beach.

Maybe she’d get even luckier and the vamp would move his tryst indoors.

Instead, he released the woman’s breast. With his hands braced on either side of her, the tops of his shoulders rippling as he “walked” down her body, he circled his head as he kissed a path across her belly. Then he moved lower.

Darcy squirmed. When was the last time a man had buried his face in her pussy? God, had it really been three years since Manny transferred to Miami-Dade?

The woman’s hips lifted, and her hands dug into the sand. His face reached the juncture of her thighs, and she shouted and thrashed her head from side to side.

Darcy wished she could roll to her back and give the couple their moments of privacy—and herself a reprieve from an unwanted rush of desire. Tight as a spring, the yearning wound inside her belly. She was helpless to stop the flush of heat that swept from her face to her breasts, and thankful for the darkness so no one on her team would see her blushing.

When she saw the suspected vampire rise to kneel between the woman’s legs, Darcy’s heart thudded dully in her chest and increased in tempo. His cock fell onto the woman’s belly, engorged and enormous, just before he hooked his arms beneath her knees and lifted her buttocks off the sand.

The woman reached for his cock and guided it to her pussy.

Then his hips slammed forward, hard.

The woman arched into the sand and shouted again.

No man had ever made Darcy shout, a thought that niggled her feminine pride while it aroused her curiosity—although, with his super-sized hardware, the shout might not have been one of ecstasy. The thought cheered her for the moment, until she noted the woman slamming her hips upward to meet the vamp’s thrusts.

From Darcy’s angle, she had a perfect view of the long, gliding action of his hips as he pumped into the woman’s body. Darcy’s legs widened, and she dug her knees into the sand, shifting her hips to relieve the itch between her legs.

“I’ll bet you twenty she comes before he does,” Max’s voice broke in.

“You’re on,” said Joe. “What man wouldn’t come all over a woman like that?”

“Ahem. Just a little reminder, guys,” Darcy said, hoping to cut off this particular line of conversation. “Captain will be reviewing this feed, too. Joe, you better not have on your zoom.”

Soft chuckles sounded from the guys, but they soon quieted and hunkered down to wait—and watch.

Darcy’s attention returned to the couple farther down the beach.

The woman’s legs straightened, her toes pointing toward the moon, and her long moans indicated she was fast approaching the big O. The vampire ground his hips into hers, and the woman screeched.

Joe groaned.

“You owe me twenty,” Max said.

“Damn,” Phil whispered. “Wonder if the wifey will be up for a little tickle in the morning.”

“I’m telling Bets you called her that.” Darcy’s mouth was so dry the words almost cracked.

The woman’s legs jerked up and down.

The vamp flung back his head and thrust faster. Suddenly, he stopped, his nose lifting into the breeze.

Realizing the wind had shifted, Darcy hugged the sand and held her breath.

The vamp turned his head and stared straight at her.

Darcy froze, hoping he hadn’t really seen her. But a grin stretched across his face.

“Fuck, Darcy!” Joe shouted into her headset. “You’re made. Get out.”

Darcy couldn’t risk a shot with the woman downrange. She ditched her crossbow, ripped off her goggles, and sprang from the foxhole. Running straight for the road a hundred yards in front of her, Darcy felt the world slow. Her feet mired in the sand. Her heart drummed loudly in her ears.

Then she heard bare feet pounding in the sand and knew he was gaining.

“I’ll try to get off a shot,” Joe said, his breaths coming short and fast, “but he’s moving in on you. Pick up your feet. You’re running like a damn girl.”

Anger and a spurt of adrenaline increased her pace. She leapt over a hummock of tall sawgrass and hoped it scraped his balls. The road was fifty yards away. The headlights of the approaching van swept the beach in front of her.

“He’s too close. I can’t get off a shot,” Joe said. “Hold him off. I’m coming.”

Twenty-five yards and uphill now, she strained, her boots sinking ankle-deep as she climbed a dune. She reached the top, and then her feet left the ground as a heavy weight knocked her through the air.

They rolled to the bottom of the dune in a jumble of twisting limbs. When they stopped, his long, hard body stretched over hers, anchoring her to the ground.

Darcy opened her eyes, expecting a vampire’s mask and a row of jagged teeth. Instead, the vamp’s handsome face hovered only inches from her own. She drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “A she-cop. A dangerous species, indeed.”

“You’re English,” she blurted. Something else not in the report. Was he even a vampire? Despite the layer of clothing separating their skins, Darcy burned from his heat. She struggled against his restraint.

He stretched and hooked his ankles around hers, and his hands held hers easily to the ground above her head.

Finally defeated, she let her head fall back in the sand. “So, how’d you know I was there?” she asked, already knowing the truth, but needing to distract him. His teeth were too close for comfort.

His face lowered, and he sniffed along her neck and the collar of her shirt. “My dear, I could smell your arousal. Delicious.”

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Report Card

Last week…

1. I continued work on one author’s edits. I’m nearing the end!
2. I’ve started some light exercises I found on Pinterest for women of a certain age—mostly chair yoga and things I can do holding onto a countertop or pressing against a wall. Baby steps!

This next week…

1. This week, I’ll be diving back into finishing up Ignition! Seriously, I don’t know why I’m avoiding it so hard. I need to finish it and put it up for pre-order.
2. I have one author’s edits to wrap up and two more authors’ edits to work on this week.
3. So far as personal goals—I’m still not ready to diet. However, I am going to continue to do those light exercises until I’m ready for some cardio.
4. The #100daychallenge starts next Sunday. I’ll be gathering art books for examples and materials to get ready for the art spree! Can’t wait!

Open Contests

Be sure to check out these posts and enter to win the prizes that are still up for grabs:

1. Clear My Bookshelf Giveaway — Last day to enter! Win a signed book!
2. TGIF (Contest) — Last day to enter! Win a FREE book!
3. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: Super Bowl Sunday! — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!
4. Sliding Puzzle: Fairytale Castle and The Ferryman (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
5. Gabbi Grey/Gabbi Black: Why I own the Queen of Instalove title (Contest) — Win a FREE book!
6. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: Another Rainy Day — Win an Amazon gift card!

Hello, Delilah!  Thank you for inviting me here today to discuss my new project.  Well…projects?  Could go either way.  Another anthology! Another charity anthology!  Another opportunity for me to stretch my writing muscles!

We’ll start with Tempest’s Teacup.  I had a short story plotted — a good one — but I couldn’t get into it.  It just wasn’t calling to me.  As the time drew near for the stories to be submitted, I worried I’d let the organizers down.  They’re lovely ladies who would understand (I was also under some serious pressure with a novel looming — when isn’t a novel looming, though?).  Then I remembered a short story I’d written for you, Delilah.  It hadn’t struck the right chord, but that was fine. Not everything does.  I loved the story, however, and dug it out for a second look.

Never let it be said that anything I write goes to waste.

I liked the story.  It had elements of instalove, but was too short — not just for the anthology, but for my liking.  The story had been entirely from Mistress Tempest’s point of view, but I realized I needed Romeo’s as well.  I tore the story apart, rewrote parts of it, put it back together, and, I believed, had a much stronger story. My editor, God bless her, raced through it in record time, and I got the short story submitted.  A day or two late, if I recall.  That didn’t make me happy — I really prefer to be on time or early — but I was confident I had a good story.  And, of course, I tied it in with both my In Their Eyes BDSM world (Gabbi Black) and my Vancouver Film World (Gabbi Grey).

Except the anthology’s editor came back and said the ending wasn’t satisfying enough (I did what I felt was a solid HFN — Happy For Now).  In my head, I knew Tempest and Romeo were a permanent couple. But I didn’t want to give too much away about their future as I plan — loosely plan — to include them in a future story.  That meant not telling the readers everything.  The editor disagreed and asked me to write an epilogue.  I did, she was thrilled, and I plan to remove it when the rights revert.

I had my story.

Before that, though, I’d submitted my Gabbi Grey short story.  Now, if Anything’s Pawsible didn’t have swearing and sex, I would call it a sweet romance.  This is a very simple book based on my own experience. See, I have two rescue pooches whom I adore.  They are beloved by quite a few of my generous and kind neighbors.  Just like I know quite a few of their dogs, and I’m always liberal with my praise and affection.

One day, I recounted a story to some of my close friends.  My shy girl, Ally, was slowly coming to trust a young man from down the hall.  Usually he was walking his dog — chaos incarnate — and so getting quality time wasn’t possible.  That day?  He was alone and had all the time in the world for her.  Slowly, he started with allowing her to sniff.  She did, and then licked.  She let him pet her gently on the head.  Then she permitted scritches down her torso.  By the end of the five minutes, she was leaning against him, absorbing the affection and attention. If she’d been a cat, she would’ve been purring.

Finnegan, my other rescue, seemed to sense this was a big moment and hung back, not being at all jealous or wanting the attention for himself.

This was truly a special moment, and I almost cried.  Ally used to be far more outgoing, but the pandemic took her back to her early days when she didn’t have stability and a good home.  I’ve worked nine years to earn and keep her trust.  She doesn’t give it easily to strangers.  Well, the young man isn’t a stranger anymore.  Now when she sees him, she strains her leash to get to him.  She demands many scritches.  She adores him.

I told this story to a number of friends, including Plot Whisperer.  She said, well, you have to write a story.  A curmudgeonly older man who’s given up on love and just has his two rescue dogs.  A younger man who loves the dogs instantly and quickly comes to love the older guy as well (not at all implying that I was the older single man jaded by love in this scenario).  I’d tucked the idea away but when the instalove anthology came up, I seized the opportunity.  I bought a second spot in the anthology so I could tell the story in its entirety.  I created Byron and Carter — then Rosebud and Sheffield.  I had my story.  I love that story. I mean, I love all my stories, but that one is extra special.

So I had my two submissions to this charity anthology. I can’t wait to share the anthology with the world and raise money for a good cause as well.

That’s the tale! Thank you for allowing me to visit, Delilah!  I’d love to give away a copy of one of my Gabbi Black BDSM books (there are several to choose from).  Just comment and let me know — do you prefer spicy or sweet?  Because I’d say my stories are polar opposites and I’m curious what you prefer.  Random will choose one lucky commenter. Good luck!

Just Add Love

Dive into a world where love ignites in the blink of an eye with “Just Add Love,” a captivating collection of contemporary romance short stories. Each tale weaves the enchanting theme of instalove, exploring the magic that happens when two hearts collide unexpectedly.

From encounters in bustling city cafes to chance meetings at picturesque parks, these stories celebrate the exhilarating spark of immediate connection. Follow characters as they navigate their emotions, face their fears, and discover the transformative power of love at first sight.

Perfect for readers who believe in the beauty of spontaneous romance, “Just Add Love” invites you to experience heartwarming moments, laughter, and a few delightful surprises along the way.

All proceeds go to Breast Cancer Research.

Authors:
Michelle Moncrieff
Linda G. Hill
Danielle Sibarium
Sharon Michalove
Gabbi Grey
CM Peters
J.M. Adele
Juliet Martini
Harper Michaels
Angela Kady
Sharon Wray
Emma Lynn Everly
Jeanine Lauren
Charlotte O’Shay
Trinity Wood
Gabbi Black

The anthology will only be available for a limited time.

Links:
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/tnrc25justaddlove
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Just-Add-Love-Instalove-Collection-ebook/dp/B0DJTZ566K
Add it to Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/220304754-just-add-love

Inside Just For Love: “Anything’s Pawsible” by Gabbi Grey

Carter

On my first day in my new condo, I meet a sweet older guy with two adorable dogs. It’s love at first sight on my side—and not just for the dogs. My shy neighbor has given up on finding a partner, so it’s up to me to convince him to give to give love a second chance. Over joyful walks, shared dinners, and little intimacies, he’s warming up. But can I get him to let go of the past and embrace a future with me?

Byron

My dogs adore the cute, younger guy who’s moved in next door. In fact, they can’t get enough of his affection. I’m immune to his charms, of course. I had my heart broken once. I can’t go through that again. Still, the more time we spend together, the more I think that if I ever were to change my mind, Carter would be the man I’d choose.

Anything’s Pawsible is a 15k instalove age-gap, opposites-attract, grumpy/sunshine gay interracial romance short story with a curmudgeon accountant, a Gen Z writer, and two of the cutest dogs ever.

Inside Just For Love: “Tempest’s Teacup” by Gabbi Black

Mistress Tempest

The challenge of breaking a disobedient bottom begging for correction at Club Kink has me intrigued. Romeo asserts he’s done something wrong and needs to be punished. That he needs to atone. As we move through our intense scene, I become more and more invested. But if I succeed in breaking him, our interaction may end our connection forever.

Romeo

My disrespectful and selfish behavior has landed me in a heap of trouble. I reach for a second chance in Vancouver after a co-star suggests I submit to a Domme at Club Kink to truly work through the regret threatening to destroy my life. Mistress Tempest offers me an opportunity at redemption. If I go all the way through with it, I might never see her again.

Tempest’s Teacup is an 10k erotic BDSM short story with a formidable Domme, a naïve submissive, and the ultimate redemptive scene.

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling author Gabbi Grey lives in beautiful British Columbia where her fur baby chin-poo keeps her safe from the nasty neighborhood squirrels. Working for the government by day, she spends her early mornings writing contemporary, gay, sweet, and dark erotic BDSM romances. While she firmly believes in happy endings, she also believes in making her characters suffer before finding their true love. She also writes m/f romances as Gabbi Black and Gabbi Powell.

Even though Gabbi Black is a firm believer in happy endings, she makes her characters work for it in every romance she writes, no matter what the genre. From contemporary to BDSM, they are penned early in the morning in her home in beautiful British Columbia while her trusty ChinPoo dog keeps her company. She also writes gay romances as Gabbi Grey and small-town romances as Gabbi Powell.

UPDATE: The winner is…Beckie!
*~*~*

When I was a kid, my aunt had a round, white washing machine with a wringer on top. Little did I know I was watching Black history unfold before my eyes as my aunt cranked the clothes through the wringer. That system of wringer rollers was patented by Ellen F. Eglin.

Depending on your source, Ellen F. Eglin was born either in Maryland in February 1836 or in Washington, D.C., in 1849. She lived in Washington D.C. with her parents, brother Charles, and two other siblings. There she worked as a housekeeper. Sources believe it was due to this stoop work that necessity, the mother of invention, tapped Ellen on the shoulder. In 1888, she devised a clothes wringer made of two wooden rollers with a crank used to squeeze excess water from laundry. Unfortunately, she never received just compensation for her invention.

Because of race prejudice, Ellen sold her invention for $18 (about $598 in today’s dollars). $18 wasn’t an inconsiderable sum when at the time a loaf of bread cost five cents, a pound of meat was ten, and a gallon of milk was twenty. But giving away the rights to her patent for such a paltry sum was a disgrace. The American Wringer company made huge profits from the sales of its product based on that patent. Her wringer is still in use today to wring out mops.

We wouldn’t even know about Ellen and her invention if not for feminist Charlotte Smith, who interviewed Ellen for Smith’s The Woman Inventor in 1890. Asked why she sold her patent, Ellen’s answer was heartbreakingly simple. “You know I am Black, and if it was known that a negro woman patented the invention, white ladies would not buy the wringer. I was afraid to be known because of my color in having it introduced to the market; that is the only reason.” She hoped to create another invention and exhibit it at an upcoming Women’s International Industrial Inventors Congress, but her plans never came to pass.

Those of you who may be watching Sir Julian Fellowes’ The Gilded Age will have heard this truth echoed in the situation of the character Peggy Scott. Wanting to be a writer, Peggy is told by the publisher interested in her work that if they don’t hide the fact that she’s black they’ll lose white subscribers in the South.

The year Charlotte Smith interviewed her, Ellen was working as a charwoman for the Department of the Interior. Records show she was still living in Washington D.C. in 1916, and that is the year assigned to her death.

I like to think that by sharing these blogposts I’m following in the footsteps of women like Charlotte Smith and Hallie Q. Brown (featured in my Oct. 2023 and Feb. 2024 D.D. blogposts) lifting up the lives and achievements of women so they won’t be forgotten.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your thoughts in the comments.

Her Heavenly Phantom
by Michal Scott

Forced into a marriage of convenience neither wants, a mild-mannered banker with an intriguing secret discovers his reluctant bride has a secret, too.

Excerpt:

Unwed and pregnant, Emily Hampton needed a husband. Newly freed and hungry for a foothold among the ranks of the Black elite in 1880s Brooklyn, William Broadman had the answer.

His son Harold.

The warmth shared between the two men stood in stark contrast to the cold chaste kiss Harold and his bride shared. Their coolness continued as they walked up the aisle. Guests, oblivious to their shared contempt, showered them with hugs and handshakes. Harold shivered even more as his father and father-in-law back-patted themselves and toasted the couple’s future happiness at the wedding reception. No doubt the arctic chill between the couple would extend to their first lay as man and wife, too.

If they had to that is. Emily Hampton hated this arrangement as much as he did. Therein lay his salvation. If she wanted as little to do with him as he wanted to do with her, his life didn’t have to change at all. Milquetoast straightlaced banker by day. Virile promiscuous masked singer by night.

The lady of the balcony numbered among his many admirers. Her missives of gratitude roiled with cock-stirring heat.

Your singing ravishes my body.

My core weeps for you.

Oh, for a coupling I know would thrust me into a heaven far beyond my grasp.

The last message had reached him after an exhausting browbeating from his father. He’d come to the theater in need of an escape that even singing couldn’t provide. She’d accepted the invite to join him backstage conveyed by way of his manager. In the dark windowless privacy of his dressing room, they’d thrust their way to a heaven beyond both their grasps.

He looked forward to what she’d write to him tonight. He’d need it as he lay alone on his wedding night.

Buylinks:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DBJ47ND6/
B&N https://shorturl.at/B0NLA
KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/secret-identities-8

UPDATE: The winners are…Kerry Jo, Beckie, and Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

After yesterday’s excitement, it’s hard to concentrate, but…back to work!

I know many of you come to my website to read my daily blog, but have you fully explored the many stories I have ready for you to consume? Have you read a short story written by me? I’ve written short stories that have appeared in many Cleis anthologies and stories that appeared in Penthouse Magazine. Do you remember those with the sexy, cute cartoons? Yeah, “Tailgating“ was one of those. I’ve written short stories that appeared in my own curated anthologies, my Boys Behaving Badly stories. I love writing them. Most often, they’re not connected to anything else I’ve written. They’re a chance for me to experiment. One theme that runs through all of them is a deep eroticism. So, if you’re into sexy stories, look no further. I would like to know if you’ve read one of my short stories before, and if so, which one was your favorite?

Comment for a chance to win your choice of
one of these stories! I’ll choose
three winners!

Click on the covers to read more about these stories!

And if you haven’t read my shorties, check out the full list here!

Tailgating at the Cedar Inn

Two construction workers come to the aid of one woman looking for a last taste of freedom…

I stepped out of the shower onto chipped and cracked aqua blue tiles with grout so dingy it was hard to tell what color it had been. Not that the bathroom was dirty, thank god. Just old. Like the rest of the 60’s-built motel I’d found on the little back country road.

I toweled my hair then shook my head like a dog, not caring where the droplets landed. It wasn’t a mess I’d have to clean up. For one last night I could be irresponsible, messy, even if it was only in a small way.

I draped the towel over the edge of the old white tub and sauntered naked into the small room with the double bed. It smelled of tobacco and industrial cleansers. The bedding looked clean if a little nappy from wear, but I peeled back the quilt-top and tossed it on the floor anyway. Pristine white sheets beckoned.

Just as I lay back, sighing with relief, sounds from outside the room jarred me from my happy haze. Tires squealed, masculine laughter bellowed through the thin walls, and car doors slammed.

I sighed and stared at the bared rafters above me. The laughter faded. I reached across to flip off the switch to the nightstand lamp with its yellowed shade. Lying in the darkness, I willed my body to relax, one limb at a time. I’d driven three hundred miles that day. I’d have gone another fifty for a decent hotel, but the shorter route my Garmin had found led me through narrow two-lane roads deep in the Ozark Mountains. I doubted I’d have found anything nicer.

I should have stuck to the Interstate, but I’d wanted to shave some miles. Little did I know that the route would keep my foot busy pushing on the gas pedal then the brake the whole way. Exhausted, nerves shattered, I’d seen the crooked Vacancy sign outside the Cedar Inn and made my decision on the spot, swerving into the empty gravel parking lot. Not until I’d opened the door to my tiny, musty room did I have second thoughts about my decision. But how bad could it really be? I’d turned on the swamp cooler set into a window frame and felt my hair frizz instantly.

Not that I’d really cared. There wasn’t anyone around to impress. Other than the clerk at the front desk, a skinny, twenty-something redneck with puppy dog eyes, the place was deserted. I’d shivered a little bit at the thought, double-bolted my room door and checked the locks on the remaining window. Visions of the shower scene from Psycho didn’t put me off taking a long, lukewarm soak to wash away the road grime and sweat.

The cooler purred, spilling muggy air into the room. The sheets felt clammy. Still, I grew calm as my body warmed the sheets beneath me, then a little horny when I wondered if the room might have little peepholes for the clerk to watch me. He’d been cute if a little skinny. I wouldn’t mind if he watched—at least not in my fantasies. Who knew how long it would be until I felt comfortable enough, private enough to indulge in a little one-handed play when my grandmother slept in the room next to mine.

I slipped a hand between my thighs and lazily trailed my fingers through my cleft until my breath caught and heat pooled. I raised my knees and let them fall open, tilted my hips and thrust two fingers inside my pussy. I wasn’t in a hurry. I wasn’t even that eager to come. The motion soothed and excited, allowing my mind to let go of my troubles—the firing, the break-up, the move to my grandmother’s house—and focus only on the pleasure curling deep inside my core.

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 in 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, leathery 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.

UPDATE: The winner is…Ani!
*~*~*

Besides my series, I have written some very sexy standalone stories, too! I forget about them because I’m so busy trying to keep up with series, but I shouldn’t. In fact, I should go back and look at my workplan because I deserve to write something completely fun and one-off!

If you haven’t read the books below, now’s your time to peruse, and I’m including an excerpt from one of them so you can sample some of the fun. Several of them are menage stories, so if that’s your thing, be sure to check them out!

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of one of the books below,
tell me which of these covers appeal to you!

  

  

  

Click on any cover to learn more about the story!

More about Saddled…

Riding double never felt so fine…

When Bobby Blackhawk and Cale Yancey see a car slide off the highway and into an icy creek, they’ve got only minutes to get the beautiful driver out alive — and just one way to save her from hypothermia: take her to their isolated cabin, get naked…and hope like hell that when she wakes up, she doesn’t scream the place down.

When Katherine Duvall opens her eyes in a strange bed, the tingles flooding her body aren’t entirely due to thawing. She’s snuggled between two handsome, naked men — one a gruff, gentle giant, the other a sexy, playful Native American. Having just left her cheating fiancé, she’s not quite as shocked as she might have been. In fact, these two lonesome cowboys could be the perfect bookends to satisfy her hunger for revenge and bolster her dented self esteem.

With all of them bent on seduction, it’s not long before they melt the snow on the cabin roof, and soon, the threesome finds something else is melting, too. Their hearts…

An excerpt…

Bobby Blackhawk shook his head as the taillights of the little Beemer just ahead flashed red again through the falling snow. Sure enough, as soon as the driver crunched the brakes, the tail end of the car began to slide on the snow-covered ice.

“She’s gonna go right into the river if she keeps that up,” Cale Yancey muttered beside him.

They’d been following the car for the last ten miles, inching down the lonely highway. They’d already figured out the car wasn’t using snow chains, and the driver was too stupid to know she was skirting on the edge of real trouble.

“Why are you so sure it’s a woman?” Bobby asked.

“Can’t drive worth a damn.”

“Love for you to tell Lacey J. that.”

“Lacey’s not like other women.”

Now, that was an understatement that had them both sharing lopsided grins, considering how well Lacey had proven that point the previous weekend.

“Sure could use me a little of her lovin’,” Cale said, sounding wistful.

The last trip into Wellesley, Colorado in anticipation of snow blocking the mountain pass had been a wild, lust-packed two days. With a lonely winter facing them, they’d both taken Lacey up on her offer of a threesome that was sure to keep the two men growling like hungry bears for the next two months, impatient for the thaw so they could get back down the mountain.

It was a good thing they’d discovered long ago that they were compatible in ways that would make most men blanch, otherwise the wait to make it back into town would have been unbearable. Neither was squeamish about helping the other out; however, both preferred emptying their passion inside the wet, snug passage of a woman. If the woman happened to be obliging, like Lacey often was, they didn’t mind sharing.
Both vehicles climbed the last long hill right before the men’s turnoff and another half-mile beyond to the highway, tire treads biting into fresh snow.

“She might make it,” Cale said, sounding doubtful.

“Think we better follow to make sure?”

The car ahead made it to the top of the rise, and then the brake lights flashed again.
Cale cursed. “Wish she’d quit doing that.”

Rental company plates on the back of the car explained a lot about the aptitude of the driver. “Doesn’t know she should just gear down and take it slow.”

They reached the top, and Bobby geared down. Sure enough, the driver up ahead hit the brakes again, and the rear of the car slid sideways. As though watching a movie in slow motion, both men held their breaths, hoping the woman would gain traction at the last moment, but one rear tire slid off the edge of the road and then the right front followed. With tires spinning and brake lights flaring bright, the car slipped slowly down the hill and into the creek.

“Not good,” Cale said tightly as Bobby pulled into the snow bank at the side of the road and left his emergency lights flashing. Just a precaution since there wasn’t much of a chance of anyone coming up on their rear end since the road crew had been taking the barriers off the truck when they’d passed.

Bobby slammed the car into park and climbed out, following Cale as he slid on his ass down the hill. They paused at the water’s edge, staring at the vehicle, both knowing one of them was going to have to get wet.

Water was midway up the car door, and the driver had rolled down her window. Blonde hair peeked beneath a black knit hat. Terror-stricken blue eyes peered at them through the falling snow.

“Ma’am, can you get yourself out?” Cale shouted.

“I think so,” she said, her voice tight and quavering.

“If you can crawl out your window, we can help you the rest of the way.”

“I’m getting wet. It’s cold.”

“Gotta move now, sweetheart,” Cale said, his tone gentling the same way it did when he worked with a fractious horse. “You wait another second, two of us are gonna be in trouble.”

“My purse. I can’t find it.” She turned in her seat, reaching into the back of the car.

The car bobbed on the water, and for a moment, Bobby thought it might break free and start floating. “Lady, leave it,” he shouted. “You don’t have time to look.”

“But my money—”

“Not gonna spend it if you’re dead.”

She bit her lip, and then her face screwed up as though she was going to start crying.

“Fuck sake,” Bobby muttered, stepping past Cale and stripping off his coat. “I’ll get her out. It’s gonna be up to you to get us both up that goddamn hill.”

BURN:  A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY
Editor: Delilah Devlin
Deadline: May 15, 2025

BURN is open to all authors.

Editor/Author Delilah Devlin is looking for stories for a romantic erotica anthology tentatively entitled BURN:  A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY.

Why write a short story for this collection? Well, it’s certainly not about making a lot of money, so why do it at all? I’ve said this before, many times, but here are my thoughts…

Writing a short story for a call for submissions is a chance to flex your writing muscles! It can be a chance to experiment with a genre you’ve never written. If you’ve never written a story in first person but don’t want to begin by writing an entire novel using it, start short! For myself, I’ve written stories in new genres or with fresh themes that ended up being so much fun to write they’ve spawned entire series of books.

You have a deadline! I don’t know about you, but I have trouble keeping my butt in the chair without one!

It’s a promotional opportunity! If selected, you’ll be joined by 12-15 other authors for the launch, sharing your audiences and, hopefully, picking up new readers along the way. Having your story in the collection is another chance to be “seen.”

And remember, you retain the rights to your story, so you can republish it for individual sale or give it away to attract subscribers to your newsletter. You might even decide there’s more story to tell and expand your short story into a novel.

Here’s what I’m looking for…

BURN: A BOYS BEHAVING BADLY ANTHOLOGY will include stories that satisfy the reader who craves stories about those sexy, alpha men who face danger without hesitation and who love unconditionally. Perhaps, he’s the new firefighter in a small town who rescues a woman from a burning building. Maybe he’s an arson investigator, hunting for a predator targeting a local business owner. Or a vulcanologist studying an awakening volcano. Is he an alien from a fiery planet seeking a mate, or an astronaut searching in a mysterious solar system for a new home for colonization? Could he be a fire dragon living in the human world? There are so many ways to go.

BURN will seek stories with varied settings here on Earth—present, past, or future—or on another planet or moon in this solar system or in a galaxy far, far, away.  Heroes and heroines might be more than human—supernatural creatures or even aliens and cyborgs.

I’m open to any subgenre of erotic romance you want to write. I’ll accept contemporary, historical, science fiction, or paranormal stories, and I won’t be picky about whether the stories are hetero, LGBT, ménage… Basically, you, the author, can go anywhere your imagination takes you so long as 1) the story is a romance, and 2) you have a bad boy/girl somewhere on the pages!

The anthology will be sold at a low price—my intent is exposure for you and your writing. The more readers reached, the better! You will retain the rights to your story so that, at a later date, you can republish your stories individually.

I’m seeking hot and inventive stories from authors with unique voices, and above all, I’m looking to be seduced by tales filled with vivid imagery and passion.

Published authors with an established world may use that setting for their original short stories.

This is erotic romance, so don’t hold back on the heat. Stories can be vanilla or filled with kink but don’t miss describing the romantic connection between strong-willed individuals learning to trust and love one another. A deep sensuality should linger in every word. Keep in mind that there must be a romantic element with a happy-for-now or happy-ever-after ending. Strong plots, engaging characters, and unique twists are the ultimate goal. Please, no reprints. I want original stories.

How to submit: Prepare your 2,500 to 5,500 words story in a double-spaced, Arial, 12-point, black font, Word document (.doc or .docx) OR rich text format (.rtf), with pages numbered. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch and double space (regular double spacing; do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). U.S. grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) is required.

In your document at the top left of the first page, include your legal name (and pseudonym, if applicable), mailing address, email address, and a 50-word or less biography, written in the third person, and send to bbbaburn@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name and pseudonym and make it clear which one you’d like to be credited as. Authors may submit up to 2 stories. I will try to respond no later than July 15, 2025, with decisions.

Payment will be USD 25.00 ninety days after publication at the end of that month.

Who is Delilah Devlin?

Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of romance and erotic romance. She has published over two hundred stories in multiple genres and lengths and has been published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Entangled, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Montlake, Penthouse, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.

Her short stories have appeared in multiple Cleis Press collections, including Lesbian Cowboys, Girl Crush, Fairy Tale Lust, Lesbian Lust, Passion, Lesbian Cops, Dream Lover, Carnal Machines, Best Erotic Romance (2012), Suite Encounters, Girl Fever, Girls Who Score, Duty and Desire, Best Lesbian Romance of 2013, and On Fire. For Cleis Press, she edited Girls Who Bite, She Shifters, Cowboy Lust, Smokin’ Hot Firemen, High Octane Heroes, Cowboy Heat, Hot Highlanders and Wild Warriors, and Sex Objects.

She has also edited Conquests: An Anthology of Smoldering Viking Romance, Rogues: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Blue Collar: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Pirates: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Stranded: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, First Response: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Cowboys: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, Silver Soldiers: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, and Secret Identities: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology.

Direct any questions regarding your story or the submission process to Delilah at bbbaburn@gmail.com.