As an author, I get asked all the time where I get my ideas. Truth is, I get ideas everywhere—the news, TV, a dream, a snippet of overheard conversation…

A few months ago, I was pushing up against two deadlines. I needed a story for Elle James’s Brotherhood Protectors Kindle World launch, and I needed an idea for a short story for the Blue Collar anthology. I had covers for both and kept looking at them, hoping for inspiration.

Both have to-die-for covers, but nothing came to mind. Then one day, I was babysitting the 4-year-old across the road. When she went down for a nap, I began surfing the TV for something to watch. I paused on a show in progress—Rocky Mountain Bounty Hunters. Now, I never watch reality TV. I find it annoying. But the show caught me. Within ten minutes, I was reaching for my notebook and scribbling like mad. I spent the rest of the afternoon researching bounty hunting.

One reality TV show gave me the inspiration I needed for both books. In Big Sky SEAL, my heroine’s a bounty hunter with a tracking dog. For Blue Collar, I wrote a story about a bounty hunting duo who become “involved”. I had so much fun with those stories, I am now planning an entire Montana Bounty Hunters series! The first book releases in November.

Pre-Order your copy!

Today’s release, The Bounty, is the story I wrote for Blue Collar. I’ve also included pages from Reaper, just to give you a little taste of my hero. I hope you love bounty hunters as much as I do! And if you want more installments featuring Buttercup and Bulldog, just let me know…

Read an excerpt…

After we’d dropped Lenny at the jail, Bulldog remained silent as we drove.

My arm stung like hell, so I was fine with the quiet for the first while.

His expression was so dark, I didn’t dare try to make small talk. When he missed the turnoff to the agency, I straightened and darted a glance his way. His narrowed gaze swung toward me, daring me to say a word. I sat back, my heart thudding hard inside my chest. Just how pissed was he?

Twenty minutes later, we pulled onto a gravel road. Once we passed the first curve, I saw a single-story house ahead. Gray stone and wood. A metal roof. He reached up to hit a button above his windshield, and a garage door rose.

So, this was his house. He’d brought me home. But would he cut me into tiny pieces and feed me to the Rottweiler jumping against the fence, or was he planning to read me the riot act in private, because he intended to yell and didn’t want the world to hear?

I hoped for a third option. One where he pushed me face-down over the first piece of furniture we met and delivered his frustration in the sexiest way possible.

He pulled the SUV into the garage, hit the button to lower the door, and then turned to give me another glare. “Get the fuck inside.”

I was tempted to chide him about his tone. Not his words. I wanted to be the fuck inside…fucking.

Without a word, I slipped out of the truck and headed to the wooden stairs leading into the house. I stepped inside a mud room then through another door and into the kitchen.

Bulldog entered behind me and closed the door.

His hands grasped my shoulders and turned me toward the table.

My heart stuttered—was this the bending over part? No, he pushed downward, forcing me into a chair.

“Unwrap your arm.”

Disappointment turned the corners of my mouth downward. Slowly, because the shirt stuck to the bloody stripes, I peeled away the shirt while he headed toward the sink.

He ran water then pulled a washcloth from a drawer and wet it. Next, he strode back to the table, pulling out a chair to sit beside me. He laid the washcloth over my arm.

It was hot, and I winced.

“Got to soak the blood to loosen it,” he said.

His voice was softer but no less growly, and my pulse raced.

When he wiped away the smears of blood, he shook his head. “Should have let him go, Buttercup. These’ll leave scars.”

I raised my chin. “Would you have?”

He grunted and completed his task, then stood, opened a cabinet above the stove, and pulled down a first aid kit. After he’d rubbed antiseptic gel over my wounds, he wrapped clean gauze around my arm and secured it with surgical tape.

“Thanks.” I kept my eyes cast downward. “But I could have managed on my own.”

“I know.”

I lifted my head and found him studying me.

His mouth tightened. “You handled yourself well. I just didn’t like you anywhere near that shithead.”

“Oh.” And because I was feeling off-kilter, his change in demeanor sending my insides swirling, I did what I always do when I feel a little afraid. I brazened it out, giving him a slow, seductive smile and a wink.

Instead of putting him back in his bad mood, his reaction to my taunt was a narrowing of his green eyes. He glanced at my mouth then shot out a hand and wrapped his fingers around the back of my neck to pull me toward him.

When his mouth slammed over mine, I gasped, giving him entry.

Bulldog might have been a big guy, but there was nothing lumbering or bearlike about his reactions. They were lightning fast. His tongue invaded my mouth, pushing past my teeth to stroke my tongue.

I gave a kitten-like mew, very un-me, and melted against him, my hand landing on his broad, bare chest, and my fingers tangling in his hair. Then he gripped my waist and slid me right off my chair onto his lap. Shock blasted through me at how much I liked the quick way he took charge.

He bent me backward, an arm around my shoulders. His free hand slipped between my legs and pushed against the damp denim, cupping me then squeezing my sex. “You’re fucking wet, Buttercup,” he rasped when he raised his head to let me breathe. Then slowly, daring me with his steady stare, he removed his hand from my crotch and cupped my breast through my clothing. “This okay with you?”

I managed a nod, and before I drew another breath, he went to his feet, with me in his arms, and strode through the house, past a living room filled with deep leather seating, down a hallway, and into a bedroom. His bed was enormous, an Alaska or a Wyoming-size King. He crawled onto the mattress on his knees and stepped toward the center before he set me down. Then he began stripping away my holster, my belt…my tee and bra…my shoes and pants. When the only thing I wore was a pair of bikini panties, he halted, backed off the bed, and began stripping off his own clothing, flinging each piece to the side while he kept his hungry stare on me.

But I wasn’t any woman waiting on a man to decide what happened next. I lifted my bottom, scraped down my panties, and threw them at his face.

Magnificently nude, he leapt toward the bed, diving toward the middle.

I rolled away, and just had my feet on the floor, when his arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me back against his body. He sat on the edge of the mattress and bracketed my legs with his thick thighs, then smoothed his rough palms over my skin, starting at my breasts then moving down my belly to my pussy. I squirmed in his arms trying to turn, but he kept me faced away as he felt me up, sending tingles through me.

Again, he cupped my breasts, and I felt his tongue slide from the center of my back upward, following my spine. Goose bumps prickled on my skin. My breaths grew short. Fuck, oh fuck. I wanted him. “Bulldog,” I said, shivering hard inside his embrace.

“Don’t fight me, Buttercup. Don’t move. Let me do you the way I have to.”

He turned me until I faced him.

I stood with my arms at my sides as he raked my body with his gaze. His for the taking, because I wanted to be taken.

I couldn’t resist dropping my gaze to his cock, so thick and straight, jerking against his belly to the beat of his heart.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” I whispered and shivered hard again.

He reached to the side, slid open a drawer in the nightstand, and pulled out a condom. With his lips pulling back from his teeth, he cloaked himself, then scooted backward on the bed and patted the mattress beside him.

I crawled toward him then lay on my belly beside him, hiding my face against the coverlet, because I knew my expression would give away just how badly I wanted this. I rubbed on the mattress, because my skin burned and my nipples ached.

He kissed my shoulder and climbed over me, his weight pressing me deep into the mattress as he fisted his hand in my hair and held me down, then slipped his legs, one at a time between mine, waiting for me to open to him.

When he rooted his cock between my legs, my breath shuddered out. His lower body scooped against me, rubbing against my ass as he teased me with the tip of his cock sliding between my slick folds.

His teeth dragged on my earlobe, and he whispered, “I’m gonna fuck you up, babe. Fuck hard and deep. You ready, Buttercup?”

I made a sound—half-laugh, half-sob. Ready? Never. But I quivered underneath him and strained to lift my ass, needing him to take me now.

With one hand still lodged in my hair, he lifted his hips and slid his free arm beneath my waist to raise my hips.

I braced on my knees, my belly barely off the bed, because that’s all the room he gave me, and then he was rutting against me, pushing between my folds, quick in and out slides, penetrating only a couple of inches.

“Don’t tease,” I said, hissing when he tightened his fingers on my hair. My scalp stung, but the pain only made the tension winding inside my core tighten more. Already, my lips were clenching, releasing, trying to capture his cockhead as he wet it in the fluid drenching my sex.

“You want this,” he whispered, pushing a little deeper then withdrawing.

Way past worrying about my pride, I whimpered. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“One thing, babe. One thing before I give it to you. Promise me.”

My pulse pounded in my ears. “Anything, just please, Bulldog…”

He nuzzled into the hair beside my ear. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

What’s your favorite part of Fall? Mine? I love the changing of the leaves and all the colors.  Not a big fan of the cold, and it’s funny because I am from Illinois born and raised and I hate the cold.  It gets cold here in Illinois especially during the winter, but I don’t want to talk about that now because what comes after fall is Halloween, then Thanksgiving and Christmas. UGH. I have not even started and probably won’t shop for Christmas until the week before. Lol! I always say I am going to start early it never happens. Oh my. See now, I am talking about Christmas. When will this end? I know—Dec 26^th.

Well I have always like fall, and I have many many memories of growing up in Macomb, IL going to my Grandma Opal’s for Thanksgiving and Christmas Dinners. There were always the football games, beer and lots and lots of food. My grandmother had 26 grandchildren and 15 great grand children when she passed away.  I was in recruiting in 2009 when she passed away. I think it was probably one time in many years that I completely cried my eyes out. She was a great lady but taken in small doses as she got older. ha ha.  I am sure my children will say that about me as I get older too.  Naw, my grandma would give you the shirt off her back, and I learned a lot from her growing up.  I think she was one of the main reasons I joined the military because it was the one way I knew for sure I could give back.

So back to Fall… What do you do in the Fall do you have a tradition that you do every Fall? Winter?  What is your Family Tradition?  I would love to hear them.

A Little about Me…..

If I’m new to you I will go through the whole speech. ???????? I hope you don’t mind. ????????????

I served in the US Army for 23 years. At 45, i decided my time had come, and I retired out with 100% service connected disability. Long story. So now I am here to introduce you to my work and to me. (Scary, I know but hold on for a wild ride)

I write Military Romance with SMOKIN’ ALPHA Males and STRONG ALPHA Females mixed with some suspense.

I will always have strong male and female characters in my storylines.  Romance and action will always grace my stories as well as some suspense and mystery.

ALWAYS, ALWAYS my stories have HEA – Happily Ever After.

I am currently working on my second novel of the Warranted Series called Warranted Desires, due out in soon.  My first Book Warranted Pleasures was released by Limitless Publishing July 25th. Author on 4 Anthologies—Craving Soldiers and Craving Secrets releases on Aug 29th. Craving Christmas releases Nov 29th, and Counting Stars around Feb 2018

I started my writing career while still serving in the US Army. I am a mother of 4, grandmother of 2 little girls, and wife of 24 years.

I have made it a MISSION of mine since retiring that I recognize Fridays As “Buddy Check Friday’s”. Where, not only do I call or text fellow Veterans and Family, but I put a post on my group page my authors’ page and my personal page to remind all to check on your Battle Buddy. As a Veteran and sufferer of PTSD, I recognize first and foremost how important friends and family are and to know to remain vigilant and to seek help when I need it. That is where fellow Veterans, friends, and family come in because we will a lot of times not seek you out you must seek us out.

Now, let’s Be Book Buddies!

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Intro the men of the 9th

So I am going to introduce you to a couple of the Men of the 9th today. My first one is kinda my favorite. I guess its because he was my first. LOL. He broke my writing cherry. 🙂

Who wants to meet Chief Warrant Officer Raleigh Fitzgerald?

He is my Alpha and all male lol and the main lead in what is now becoming a whole new Series about the 9th Special Forces Reapers.”Bringers of Death and Destruction” is their motto.

Eventually, it will be an entire world of hottie, alpha and the strong women who fall for them.

Ok, this my dears is my Raleigh from my Warranted series. I seriously want to lick him. I really don’t care where.

We can stare at him for a moment then I will show you an excerpt from Book 1 of Samantha and Raleigh’s story.

The insignia is special forces unit insignia, and the other is the warrant officer branch insignia.

So my novella Snowed In introduces you to the youngest member of the 9th Special Forces. I think you will like him. He is a cutie from Georgia, young and all southern stud.

So this novella is set during the time that Warranted Pleasures takes place, and is the story of Jackson and Annabelle. Jackson is a member of Raleigh’s SF unit.

Like my  Men of the 9th Facebook Fan page-  https://www.facebook.com/menofthe9th/

★‿¸.•*´´*•.¸(*•.¸¸.•*)¸.•*´´*•.¸‿★

Excerpt  WARRANTED PLEASURES
BY SHANNON NEMECHEK
4.7 out of 5 Stars on Amazon
57 ★★★★★ Ratings
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Raleigh opened the door to O’Shea’s Pub and walked in. He scanned the bar—no Sam. He scanned the tables—no Sam. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her as she emerged from the bathroom. Her long, blonde hair draped over her bare shoulders, and her legs were so long they could almost reach the sky. She was tanned from head to toe, and the dress she had on left nothing to the imagination. It melted into her skin like it was made for her. The heels she wore inched her almost as tall as him. WOW! She is amazing! He could lose himself in those eyes and that smile. He could forget about everything this world offered and just concentrate on making her every wish come true. Because right then, at that very moment, she was everything he had ever wished for and so much more. He wanted so badly to take her in his arms and whisk her away to a remote island and make her his forever. He could feel himself shake as he walked towards her. He knew he had to get it together or he would look like a fool.

***

Sitting here with Raleigh was almost a dream come true. She could smell his musky scent from across the table; the smell enticed her senses. She could feel her skin get warm and beads of sweat made their way between her breasts. Thoughts crept into her mind of all the heavenly things she would do to him if she got him alone in a room. It had been too long since Sam had felt a man’s touch—a real man’s touch. She wanted to be taken—body, mind, heart, and soul. Her heart ached for the love and tenderness of a man; Raleigh reminded her of the emptiness she had been feeling for quite some time. Could a guy like Raleigh make all her hopes come true? Or for one night, make her forget all her troubles and be a woman again? She didn’t care either way. There were carnal, sexual needs that she wanted to follow.

As she sat so close to the man of her dreams, the man who could fulfill her deepest desires and the fantasies she had yet to share, she had a feeling she could share any one of them with him and he would be more than willing to make them all come true.

In his deep southern twang, he asked, “Have you ordered yet?”

“Just a drink. I thought I would wait to order food once you got here.” Sam’s voice trailed off as she felt the distinct touch of Raleigh’s leg against hers. The heat she felt skyrocketed to pure pleasure. Is that by accident? Or is he playing with my emotions? She moved her leg just inches, testing the hypothesis that his touch was an accidental one. But his leg moved between hers and pressed them apart. Her heart quickened and her breath hitched. Without control, she had allowed his leg in deeper and could feel her wetness envelop her. She had deliberately gone without panties to avoid panty lines; now she worried he would inch ever so close feeling the wetness soak his jeans. The tablecloth had hidden what was going on under the table, so Sam was happy to oblige Raleigh’s advances. For one night only, she would put away her emotions and her inhibitions and just let the chips fall where they may. She already had a few drinks in her before Raleigh arrived. She was now relaxed enough to let herself go and enjoy where this may go. If she ended up in his bed, she would count it as a notch and let it go. She couldn’t fight her feelings anymore. She needed to be taken, and she needed it now.

The table hid Raleigh’s intentions, and he slid one hand on Sam’s leg and up the length of her thigh. The higher he moved up, the warmer it got. He hoped once he reached her spot she would be ready and willing to take his length and the pleasure he had secretly sworn to give her the moment he laid eyes on her. He could feel her legs tighten as he inched closer and felt her breath quicken the closer he got to her folds. I pray she isn’t wearing panties. As he reached within centimeters of her warmth and folds, the waitress arrived.

RELEASING July 25th
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*~*~*

CRAVING SOLDIERS
Operation Codename Wolverine
Unedited Excerpt
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073KM3H7H

Sergeant First Class Logan Macalister stood steadfast as the dust and sand flew and laughed as he watched the young woman fumble around.  He had been waiting for this CIA agent for the last few hours, and he was ready to get back to the poker game he and the guys had started.  He was ahead a few hundred dollars and didn’t want to miss out on his winning streak.  He couldn’t see her quite well, but he could make out the figure and damn it was impressive.  “What I wouldn’t give to have those legs wrapped around my neck.  If the rest of her looks are as good as they are from the neck down we in business.” He thought as she approached him.  It had been months since he had seen a woman let alone been with a woman so lucky for him she was extremely nice to look at.

“Are you SFC Macalister?” she asked

“Yep, that’s me!” He said as he held his hand out to her “Logan Macalister but everyone calls me Wolverine.”

“Well, Wolverine how about getting me out of this dust-up and inside so I can sit down.”

“Yea, no problem.  Let me take your bag for ya.” He said as he reached for the bag draped over her arm.  “Looks heavy.”

“Yea, a bit!  I’ve been lugging it around for the last several hours.  I am beyond bushed.  I need a shower a bed and a drink.” She complained as she handed him the bag.

Logan grabbed the bag then motioned her to follow him.  “Follow me, ma’am, I will get you over to the command tent first.  You need to report to the commander first then personnel will get you set up with a bunk and a private area.  Once you get set up, I can show you where the shower facilities are.”  As they walked into the small makeshift building that looked as though it had been put together with cardboard and duct tape a blast a cool air finally hit her face.  “Whew, finally.” She thought as she stopped for a moment to take it all in and to take the scarf down from her face.  Realizing she was no longer following him Logan stopped and turned just in time to see Mackenzie as the scarf fell. 

His breath hitched, and his heart raced as he took the sight all in.  “My God! he thought she’s the most beautiful women in the world.  Why the hell is she in this rat hole?  Yep, he thought definitely have to get those legs wrapped around my neck.”  When she looked up at him, he realized her eyes were the darkest brown eyes, and her hair was long and dark drown with hints of auburn scattered about.  Then she smiled at him looking up thru her eyelashes, and that smile reached down to his dick and pulled it up and stretched it hard.  He now had a hard on from hell, and there was not a thing he could do about it.

“You good? He asked can we head on?” he knew he sounded like an ass, but he also didn’t want to stand around too long and reveal the raging hard on he had that was pushing against his pants.  It seemed obvious to him that his cock was trying to inch its way closer to her.  “Down boy.” He whispered to himself.

“What was that Sergeant?” she questioned looking back at him over her shoulder.

“Nothing all good back here!”

“Oh ok, I thought you said something to me!”

“Nope, all good back here.” He said as he pushed down at his crotch

“Good.  How much further to the commander’s office?”

“Just turn to your right up there, and he’s in there.  I will wait out here.” He said fumbling with his waistband.

“You’re not going in? “she questioned.

“Nope, no need I will wait for you out here.  Would you like coffee or water?”

“Water, please. As she turned into the commander’s office, I’ll grab it when I come out.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073KM3H7H

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*~*~*

CRAVING SECRETS
Breach of Trust
Unedited Excerpt
https://a.co/g0VBHhj

Madison’s heart sank when she heard her name. She was frightened, so she grabbed the broomstick again and prepared to smash whoever popped their head through the exposed hole in the old building. Gretchen grabbed Jasper. Madison hoped he would not bark, but it was too late. He was a small, strong little dog and had easily jumped from her arms and into the opening in the bricks.
Jasper’s barks echoed throughout the building. Madison could hear the man’s voice calling for her. As he got closer to the opening, she heard him say, “Madison, if you are in there, this is Chance Maxwell. I am with the CIA. Agent York sent me to come get you. I swear I will toss you my wallet so you can see I am who I say I am.”

Chance tossed his wallet toward the opening, and Gretchen popped her head out to retrieve it. Chance grinned as the old woman snapped him a look of disgust then went back into the building. Handing Madison the wallet, she then popped her head back out like a turtle from its shell.

“Is it him?” she asked Gretchen.

“Yes, child, it is the same man,” Gretchen answered.

“Okay, let him in,” Madison said.

Gretchen leaned back out of the hole, “Okay, you can come in,” she said. “But watch what you do, or Jasper will bite your cock off.”
***
Chance laughed.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I am only here to help Ms. Madison,” Chance replied.

Chance crawled through the opening, his head down, watching for hidden items in the rubble that might hurt the knee or hands as he crawled through. Once he got all the way inside, he looked up then over to the right, and he saw her. She was even more stunning in person; her hair was a mess, her clothes torn, and she had on a pair of mismatched shoes. Her makeup had long since run down part of her face, but despite all of that, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on. Her eyes were deep green, and although her hair was disheveled and matted, it was blonde and hung past her shoulders. Even in this state, his cock took over his mind, and his cock started to thicken. What the hell, man? Get a fuckin grip. This is a woman in need of help, and a bath. He grinned to himself.
***
Madison peered at him, still holding the broken broom handle at the ready. “And what the hell are you laughing at?” she asked, waiting still holding the broomstick above her head.

“I am laughing at you, miss. Do you seriously think that would do any kind of damage whatsoever?”

“Well, it could, if I hit hard enough,” she replied.

“Doubtful, but I’ll take your word for it,” Chance replied, standing up and walking over to her and grabbing the broom handle.

“If you don’t mind, I will take that. I have something that will do a little bit more damage than that, so you are perfectly safe with me. I promise,” he said, winking at her then focusing on the small barking dog at his feet.

“Now, who is this little guy?” He bent down to pet Jasper’s head and scratch his ears. Jasper was now on Team Chance and was currently in the process of rolling onto his back for a belly rub.

Gretchen replied, “That, my dear, is Jasper, my guard dog. This is our home. Welcome. Welcome, young Chance, my name is Gretchen.”

“How long have you and Jasper been here?” Chance asked.

“Oh, we have been here for, oh, say, ten years. Well I have had Jasper for only four years. I found him abandoned down at the city center, not far from the cathedral. We have been together since. He protects me, and I protect him,” she answered.

“Well, you have a very nice home, Frau Gretchen.”

“Ah, poppycock! It’s a shithole, but thank you for saying so,” Gretchen announced as she laughed.

Pre-order Aug 19th
Releasing Aug 29nd
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I really hope you will consider giving me and my stories an look through.  I know I am most likely new to you but I hope you will allow me to entertain you.  I know you have tons of choices, but I would be honored if you chose me.

Love and Hugs
Shannon Nemechek

He was her first Master, seducing her into a life of cruelty. Now she must take a journey to save her soul.

God, just his name made her stomach clench and a feeling of nausea roll through her. Even after all this time, she still felt as if she had to scrub every part of her body inside and out to rid herself of the vestiges of his control. How sick was that?

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts when she gave her car to the valet parking attendant, she didn’t look where she was going…

Until she bumped into someone and a hand closed over her arm.

“Well.” His mouth curved in that seductive smile that hid so much. “It’s been a very long time, Fallon. I understood you were hiding up in the Hill Country.”

She looked up to see him standing beside her, as if conjured by her very thoughts.

Brian Willoughby was tall; taller than Cord. So tall that when he stood next to her, he almost blocked the sun. And broad, every bit of him hard, solid muscle. His razor-cut blond hair still fell in precise lines to just above his collar and his deep blue eyes were still as chilly and penetrating. Power radiated from him, a power tinged with evil that unfortunately still had the ability to hypnotize Fallon in an instant.

At once her mind and body reacted, and she tried to push away the programmed response. Disaster and destruction were standing right in front of her if she didn’t get a grip. She knew exactly how junkies and alcoholics felt while trying to dry out. Nothing satisfied the sick hunger. Yet even knowing that, and with Claire’s conversation fresh in her mind, her body reacted automatically.

Think of Cord.

Fallon forced herself to breathe evenly. Heat burned her skin where his fingers rested on her arm. His touch was light but it might as well have been steel talons. She wanted to jerk away but the message didn’t seem to filter down from her brain.

“You heard wrong.” From somewhere she managed a hint of defiance in her tone. “I’m not hiding at all.”

“Oh?” He lifted one eyebrow in a too-familiar gesture. “I’ve missed seeing you.”

His fingers stroked her arm where they held her.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

She wet her lips. “I was just—reordering my priorities.”

His eyes raked over her. “I’ve missed you.” He took a step closer, shrinking the space between them. “You’ve missed me too. I know you have.” He bent his head so his mouth was at her ear. “You’ve missed me fucking you when you were bound so intricately you couldn’t move a muscle, and I could plow into you at will.”

His tone had that same compelling quality she couldn’t forget. She trembled at his words and the gush of fluid into her panties disgusted her. Yet at the same time, vivid images of the scene he described flashed into her mind and all the months dropped away. She found herself being lulled by him again. Falling into the same trap.

No! Cord! Think of Cord!

She extricated herself from his hold—but damn it, she missed his touch as soon as it was gone. “I have a new life. A better life. I could say it’s been nice running into you, but I’d be lying.”

He reached out and touched her cheek, his knuckles grazing the skin. The contact sizzled and another kaleidoscope of memories and sensations bombarded her.

No!

Finding courage she didn’t know she had, she backed away two steps and glanced at her watch.

“Sorry, Brian. I really have to run.”

*~*~*

Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Addiction-Desiree-Holt-ebook/dp/B075MBFQP8/

Apple:
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About the Author

USA Today best-selling and award-winning author Desiree Holt writes everything from romantic suspense and contemporary on a variety of heat levels up to erotic, a genre in which she is the oldest living author. She has been referred to by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, and is a winner of the EPIC E-Book Award, the Holt Medallion and a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice nominee. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times and numerous other national and international publications.

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The Hidden Heart

Cara Montero had been kidnapped and then rescued by her sister Aly and Ram Torres.  Now free but traumatized, knowing she was going to become a sex slave sold to someone in Asia, she wrestles with PTSD symptoms.  When Ram and Aly have to leave, she feels as if she’s been abandoned, relying heavily on them.

Tyler Hutton, ex-SEAL, is assigned to take over and be there as a bodyguard and support for struggling Cara.  He’s destroyed his marriage two years earlier because of his own PTSD and doesn’t expect to be powerfully drawn into desiring more than a professional relationship with Cara.  He considers himself broken, just as Cara sees herself as shattered.  Can two people who are drawn to one another find a pathway to connect their hearts and openly admit they are falling in love?  Or will the dark past overwhelm the fragile, hidden hearts that yearned for a lifetime together?

Get your copy here!

One soldier had told Cara Montero at the shower facility that she was special, which apparently meant she would get better treatment than the other women imprisoned with her. The Asian male who had bought her wanted her skin in perfect condition, no bruises, her hair and body clean.  Cara was afraid to ask the soldier more, but because he seemed in a good mood, she did.  He said it was because even though she was twenty-four, which was “very old” for a high-class sex slave, the Asian wanted her.  Then, the soldier took a last drag on his cigarette, tossing the butt beneath his combat boot.  He looked at her lustfully, telling her that if his boss hadn’t already sold her for a million dollars, he’d like to get a piece of her for himself.

Now, caged with her companions, Cara huddled with the two women, trying to calm their trembling bodies. She suddenly saw herself back in Tucson with her parents.  How happy she’d been then! She and her sister had grown up so loved, cared for and supported.  Family meant everything to her and yet, here she was, a thousand or more miles away, alone, helpless and afraid.

In another week, the ship to Asia would take them all away, probably forever. And then?  Cara simply couldn’t fathom what would happen to her.  The other three women did not know their fate.  Only she did.  But Cara was sure they had been sold, too.

The door to the villa opened and shut.  Cara’s head snapped up, her eyes focused.  There was the head soldier—she didn’t know his name, but he terrified her. He was even crueler than his companions, clearly enjoying the pain he inflicted on the women.  And he was walking quickly toward their cell.  Only a dark brown tarp lay across the top of it, keeping rain off them when a storm passed nearby.

The soldier, bald, six-foot five-inches tall was a Russian with flat, gray eyes and a four-day growth of bear—and his gaze was fixed right on her.  She often heard the guttural language interspersed with Spanish, and sometimes, English slang.

Oh, no!  Cara slowly stood up, her hands against her roiling stomach.

He opened the door with a jerk and stepped in.  “You!” he snarled in poor Spanish.  “Get over here!”

Cara froze.  They were going to rape her!  She saw the hardness in the man’s eyes and noted his powerful muscles. He had an AK-47 hanging off a strap in front of him.

“Get over here!” he bellowed, and took a threatening step toward her.

Stunned, she forced herself to walk around the two women who were whimpering with fear, holding tightly to one another.  Her heart was pounding so heavily she didn’t know if she could make it to where he stood, his hands imperious on his hips, his glare eating into her like acid.  Cara knew if she didn’t obey instantly, they’d grab her by the hair and jerk her off her feet.  They had never slapped her since she’d arrived. Was all that about to change now? 

Lowering her eyes, head bowed, she walked to within six feet of the soldier. Earlier that day, three cars had driven up to the double wooden doors of the villa.  The soldiers had opened the doors and allowed the visitors into the spacious area.  Cara had seen one man leave each chauffeured car. All three were dressed in expensive business suits, and she could only guess what they were doing here.  In the past weeks since her capture, she’d sharpened her hearing, listening to snatches of conversation from the soldiers.

She’d found out that Emilio Azarola was a Sonoran drug lord who sent drugs across the border to America and kidnapped young girls, some as young as age twelve. They came from various cities, some from the United States, and others from cities and towns in Central and South America.

Azarola’s sex trafficking trade was growing, which was why this Huge cell that was roughly two-hundred square feet, had been built: it was a holding cell for his captives until their ships pulled into the dock.  From there, children and young women would be shipped to the Middle East or Asia.

The soldier glared at her.  “Come with me.”

Shocked that he wasn’t going to grab her or yank her by the hair, she hesitated, at a loss for words.

“Move!” he snarled, making a sharp gesture.

Cara leaped out of the cell and stood.  There was no place to run, to escape this place.  Furtively, she looked around, trying to see if such an escape was possible.  There was nothing to indicate escape.  Disheartened, she saw him looking at her, stripping her from head to toe with his colorless grey eyes.

Now she knew what it felt like to be a mouse about to be pounced on by a coyote.

“Go to that door,” he muttered, walking toward her, threatening her with his height and bulk.

Instantly, Cara moved, but she suddenly felt weak, her knees turning mushy. Oh, Dios….protect me….protect me…

On Thursday, my good friend Desiree Holt has a brand new set of stories from some terrific authors ready to launch! I’m proud to be among them! If you’d like to join Desiree’s Omega Team Facebook group, just click on the pretty picture above! My contribution to Thursday’s launch is a fun story set in my Uncharted SEALs series, entitled SEAL Escort. Read an excerpt below and get ready for Thursday!

SEAL Escort

When former SEAL, now Charter Group operator, “Snake” McPherson, is assigned to guard a social media star, he’s not pleased. Edgy from back-to-back tours in the sandbox, the last thing he wants it to tail some “selfie-princess.” Worse, the spoiled little rich girl doesn’t want anyone to know that’s his purpose. No, Cat Mikkelson insists he pretend to be her boyfriend for the weekend, a paid escort for a party at some billionaire’s private island. Worse, the woman dresses him like a Ken doll and insists they share the same room at the billionaire’s mansion.

Cat Mikkelson has a secret. Despite her carefree, online persona, she’s frightened. She’s been a prisoner inside her Manhattan apartment since she broke it off with her prizefighter boyfriend. She knows all too well what he’s capable of, so when she’s invited for a weekend getaway, she’s relieved for a chance to escape her prison while her lawyers gear up to serve him a restraining order. Her handsome bodyguard turns out to be a blessing in more ways than one. With him, she feels safe, and for the first time in a long time, she’s ready to play. The more she pushes his boundaries, the hotter their exchanges get.

As things heat up between Snake and Cat, her past pays a visit…

Yup, sexy times! Here’s a short excerpt…

Cat lost herself in his kiss, noting every caress he gave her as his hands roamed her body. She loved the insistent stab of his tongue as he plunged deep inside her mouth. Inwardly, she crowed with excitement. The time was now. No way in hell would he tell her no this time. The way he crowded his cock against her skin, he was telling her, silently, to prepare. She pulled back. “Please, Snake.”

Smiling, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I packed condoms.”

She grinned. “So did I.”

Lacing their fingers together, he tugged her toward the shore.

She needed no encouragement. Already, her nipples sprang against the thin fabric of her bikini top. Warmth filled her chest and belly, and a languid heat licked at her sex. Just as he would. She knew it. Snake wouldn’t leave her behind. Not ever.

And now, she wished she knew more about him than the fact he understood how to please her. She wanted to meet his friends, see where he lived, what car he drove, and how he filled his hours.

She’d give anything to be invited to learn more.

They moved without haste, but her body was already rushing ahead. Slightly behind him, she reached with her free hand to pull at the bow in the center of her back, loosening her top.

By the time they reached the blanket, the strappy number had fallen to their clasped hands.

He glanced downward, loosened his fingers, and let it drop. Then he gazed at her breasts.

Silently, she stood, letting him look his fill, knowing what he saw—flushed rose tips, paler pink areolas. When he reached to lift one, cupping it, weighing it in his hand, she nearly moaned she was so excited. So ready.

His thumb flicked one tip.

Lust hit hard, and she drew a sharp, hissing breath. “The other,” she whispered. “Touch them both, please.”

Snake went to one knee and burrowed his face between her breasts while he massaged the mounds with his palms. When he turned his face to draw one peak into his mouth, she clutched the back of his head to pull him closer.

He went down on the other knee, lowering his head, and then urged her with his hands to drape one thigh over a hard shoulder. Next, he tugged at the ties at the sides of her hips and drew away her bottoms. His hands sank between her legs, fondling her sex. Fingers gliding through her silky warmth and entering as he began to tongue her clit.

As she rocked her hips forward and back, she never wanted this experience to end. This sensation was heaven. She’d never felt more beautiful or been handled as though she was treasure. When his lips closed around her clit, she stiffened just a little, but he was so gentle, she relaxed again and learned to enjoy the gentle pulls as he sucked it.

A finger trailed up her inner thigh then slid inside her, swirling in her heat and drawing down more moisture, which he used to coat another. Now, two stroked inside her. The pressure of fullness felt incredible. Cat gripped his hair. “Snake.”

He gave her mound a kiss then stood and shoved down his trunks.

His cock was darker than his tanned skin and crowned with a slightly purple head. Thick bluish veins stood in relief against his thick shaft.

When she reached out, he caught her fingers. “Another time,” he said, his voice tight. “Please lie down.”

Her legs trembled, so she was only too happy to drop to the blanket then stretch across it. While his gaze roamed her body, she cupped her breasts and teased the tips, tempting him to come quickly and fill her. Her channel already pulsed and was already drenched.

Going to his knees, he slipped between her thighs, waiting.

Anticipation pumped her blood hot and fast as she opened wider and lifted her knees.

He cloaked himself, hissing between his teeth as he rolled it downward.

Then she followed his glance as it dropped, watching as he fit himself, shaped like a blunt cudgel, against her entrance.

A slow flex of his hips pushed his shaft inside. With gentle moves, he used his fingers to pull away her folds, before he could work his thick cockhead inside her.

Once he was past her entrance, he moved forward and back, easing deeper and deeper inside her, his features growing so hard and set, she knew he battled against thrusting fast.

“You’re tight,” he said, grimacing.

“You’re big.” She gave him a weak smile, because she was focused on the delicious sensations of him moving within her body. He crowded her walls, his gliding cock building frictional heat inside her…

I’ve always loved reading books with magical worlds, especially when those worlds exist inside our own. So, when I sat down to create my Beaux Rêve Coven series, I combined all the things I love…magic, the Louisiana bayou, alpha heroes, clever witches, and great sex. 🙂

Once in a Blue Moon comes out this Thursday from Amazon, so be sure to get a copy. The story will be available in Kindle Unlimited for only three months, then it will be available at all the usual places.  Read the sexy excerpt below…

Once in a Blue Moon 

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives. Five witches… Too many demons to count…

Bryn Cavanaugh and her coven like that the community they live in is isolated thanks to a storm that destroyed the bridge between them and the outside world. Now the state wants the bridge rebuilt. When the construction crew checks into the inn, Bryn begins to suspect something about the crew’s boss isn’t quite…human.

Bridges are Ethan Thorne’s thing—after all, he’s a troll—so building a simple span over a remote canal in backwater Louisiana shouldn’t be this much of a problem. When he follows the pretty little innkeeper to a midnight rendezvous, he discovers why his crew keeps running in to trouble. Bryn and her coven are casting spells in the moonlight.

As a troll, Ethan feels the sting of his low place in demon hierarchy. But finding an unprotected coven of witches in the middle of the bayou could lead to all sorts of adventure. And it’s better to keep your enemies close…

Pre-order your copy here!

Read an excerpt…

(Here, the heroine still thinks the hero is human. This is not the hottest scene…)

The kitchen door whooshed inward, and she glanced back. “I can handle the dishes on my o—”

Ethan stood behind her. “Let me dry.”

She didn’t want him to dry. She wanted him to make her very, very wet. She swallowed hard and faced forward. “Towels are in the drawer beside the stove.”

He walked closer and bent to reach beyond her into the drawer. His proximity wasn’t necessary, but her body wasn’t complaining. Her breasts felt suddenly fuller, her hips looser. Fingers touched the small of her back, and then he moved beside her and began to empty the rack.

“Dinner was terrific.”

She’d made shepherd’s pie with a fluffy crust, fresh bread rolls, and grilled string beans topped with sprinkles of crisp bacon.

“You don’t have to go to so much effort.”

“Cooking’s not a chore.”

“You love it,” he said, smiling.

“I do.”

“Well, I appreciate the results.”

“You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes at her stilted responses. Still, he loved her cooking. Warmth filled her chest. “You don’t have to help me with the dishes. You put in a full day’s work.”

“I prefer the company in here.”

She glanced to her side, gave him a small smile, and then finished the last of the cutlery. “These can air-dry.”

He set aside his towel and moved behind her, bringing his hands down on the edge of the counter, trapping her between his thick, muscled arms. His warm breath stirred the hair beside her ear. “Town’s small. Where does a guy take a girl if he wants a little privacy?”

To her bedroom, but she guessed that would seem a little too forward. “He might ask her to walk in the garden,” she said softly. “There’s a gazebo in the back…”

He nuzzled his nose through her hair, skimmed his lips over her neck, and she couldn’t resist tilting her head to allow him a little more access to her bare skin.

“Come with me.”

Not a request. Not that she minded at all. She was eager to be alone with him. She let him take her hand and pull her toward the kitchen door. They slipped out onto the porch, and he let her lead him with their fingers intertwined past the raised-bed herb garden, past tall beanstalks and sweet corn. She led him to the trellised gate, overhung with hyacinth. “It’s not much farther,” she said, glancing back.

His expression was closed, his dark eyes shadowed. But she wasn’t afraid. He tightened his hand around her fingers. He was growing tense. Just like she was—from anticipation.

Excitement quivered through her. Every sense was alert. Just the air brushing her bare arms and legs felt erotic. The scent of honeysuckle and roses teased her nose. The sound of his heavy tread thudded like her heartbeat. Just ahead, the latticed sides of the gazebo were like silver interwoven bones in the moonlight.

Beautiful. Frightening as well, because there in the darkness they cloaked awaited the possibility of intimacies shared—with this man who had managed to consume her thoughts from the first moment his glance had landed on her. Just yesterday. How could that be?

Already, when they weren’t together, she was obsessed with thoughts of him. When he was near, her body awoke. Her breasts ached for his touch. Her sex throbbed with building heat. She was constantly wet. Constantly ready. If he wanted her this night, she wasn’t going to refuse. Her body was too painfully aroused to ignore.

They entered the structure, and he tugged her to a halt. She stood facing away, trying to catch her breath. But her breathing was so shallow she was nearly panting.

He let go of her hand and settled both of his at her waist. His grip was light but insistent, and he pressed against her back. His chest was a brick wall. And below, she felt the nudge of a long, hard column against her buttocks.

Silently, he was warning her. This was what he wanted. She could refuse, ease away from the pressure, and he would accede, perhaps giving her kisses and caresses through her clothing. Nothing more than she was willing to accept at this moment.

But she was greedy. She wanted everything he had to give, and she wanted it now. Lifting her hand, she shifted her hair from her neck. “The zipper’s right there,” she whispered.

She heard a loud swallow and was glad he showed a little surprise. Was he as nervous as she was? It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man. Nearly five years. And then she’d been in Merrick’s thrall. His to switch on and off like a light bulb when he needed release or a spell.

Ethan’s hands left her waist. Tucking his fingers under the neckline of her dress, he slowly lowered her zipper, and then pushed her dress downward until it puddled at her feet.

She stepped out of it and moved it away with a toe. Now she stood, still facing away, in just her lacy panties and bra.

Within seconds, he unhooked her bra and dragged it off her arms. Her nipples puckered instantly in the night air. He smoothed her panties down, kneeling behind her, his cheek against her ass as he waited for her to step out of her underwear. There was no way he could miss the scent of her arousal.

He slid upward, gliding his body against hers and holding still for a moment before stepping away. The shuffling sounds of clothing being dragged off made her smile, because he was hurrying. His belt clanging on the wood floor was the final sound before he reached around her to cup her breasts. His bare cock pushed impudently against her backside.

“I apologize for the rush,” he said, a lovely growling texture to his deep voice.

“Apologize only if you make me wait.”

His laugh was short, pained. “Then I’m sorry. I don’t want to take you on the hard floor.”

She pointed to the seats tucked against the latticed walls. “The cushions,” she said, her own voice lowering, sounding foreign it was so husky.

He stepped around her, his head bent downward, concealing his expression as he grabbed cushions and arranged them on the floor. When he’d made a bed for them, he stood behind her again. “Let me do this my way.”

His way meant she would be on hands and knees. His callused palms urged her downward, arranging her knees, sinking the center of her back to tilt her bottom upward.

She didn’t mind that he treated her like a doll, that he took charge, his body blanketing hers as he set the width of her hands just so. He was warm and hard and surrounding her. His cock glided on the backs of her thighs, nudged her buttocks, and slid along her wet folds.

And his cock was huge. A blunt instrument. Rock solid as the rest of him.

When he was satisfied, he moved away. Her head bowed toward the floor. She hoped he’d take her. Sink his many inches inside her. However, the first flick of his tongue against her folds sent an electrical charge through her.

She must have been wound too tight. Nearly on the verge of orgasm for it to affect her so. She steeled herself against the pleasure, not wanting to disappoint him by leaving him in the dust.

He teased her with more flicks to her outer folds. Then he suckled there, drawing her inside his mouth for gentle nibbles. His whiskers raked her sex and inner thighs.

Not that she minded the abrasion. He could scour her skin off so long as he found her center. Which he did, dipping his tongue inside her and swirling. A deep groan vibrated against her sex.

When he pulled away again, she whimpered. She didn’t need foreplay, she needed the main event. But the nips he gave her fleshy ass made her jerk, escalating her sensitivity to his every touch.

Fingers parted her then swirled around her entrance. They eased her open, stretched her, one finger added at a time until she was beyond full. He spent so much time preparing her for his girth, she began to wonder if she’d underestimated just as how large he was.

The moment he prodded her with the blunt knob of his cock, she knew. He spread her folds and pressed against her, apparently gripping himself to circle her entrance and ease himself inside with precision and insistent pressure.

She’d dreamed about the way it would feel. Now, pleasure was edged with worry that he wouldn’t fit. But she was wet, and more liquid seeped from inside her to coat his heavy cock. At last, he breached her entrance.

She sagged, her arms already shaking. Her body was too tight, too excited for her to slow her heart or reactions. “Ethan,” she whimpered.

The pressure relented. He held still. “Am I hurting you?” His voice sounded as though he were grinding rocks between his teeth.

“Yes,” she hissed, but she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted the pressure and the pain. “More, please.”

His laugh was choked. He gripped the notches of her hips to hold her immobile and worked himself inside in shallow, pulsing waves, in and out, deeper and deeper—until Goddess, he was touching her womb.

She felt a pinch deep inside her. A quiver of core-deep delight. This could be the moment. If only he didn’t realize he’d taken her unprotected and pulled free at the last.

Bryn sank her chest against the cushions and reached far beneath her, past his cock, to his balls. She gripped them, massaging them, sending out a flash of witch’s heat.

“Fuck, Bryn. Don’t…” He dug his fingers hard into her fleshy hips, pulled back, and then slammed forward.

She released his balls, certain he wouldn’t stop until she’d achieved her goal. She’d unleashed his passion.

His hips moved faster, his cock cramming deeply, whipping back and shoving forward again. The sheer fullness made her want to shout. Her back arched, and she pushed backward, trying to break his hold, but he began to move her, bringing her back as he thrust, pushing her away as he withdrew. He hammered her. Jostled her. Roughly, so deliciously, she was on the verge of exploding.

And then he began to move his hands on her skin. He reached up one hand to grab her hair and force her back to arch more, gliding another on her skin, raising gooseflesh. Her hair was lifting and prickling on the back of her neck. Static charged the air, and her eyes widened.

She knew at last why he’d been so attractive, why she’d been inexorably drawn to him. Why she’d craved this union.

Demon! she screamed inside. But it was already too late. Heat swept through her, electricity crackled. Her core convulsed, her orgasm exploding outward, weakening her limbs, stealing her mind.

She slumped against the floor as he thrust twice more, and then his seed jetted inside her. His shout as he came was filled with triumph.

When at last he grew still, he released her.

She crawled forward on her hands and knees and rolled to stare up in horror as he braced his hands on his thighs and met her stare. Her heart thudded dully against her chest.

His eyes glowed green in the darkness.

Not just demon. Troll!

There is something about the piano in The Clash’s “Rock the Casbah” that catches my ear. Likewise, the trumpet in Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” gets my attention every time. (Yes, Davis is a legendary trumpeter, but from all of his music, from all of jazz, that particular performance resonates for me.) I can’t explain what it is about these pieces of music that takes up space in my brain, but I am glad they do.

Music has been a tremendous part of my life for as long as I can remember. I have a personal soundtrack: songs that remind me of seminal moments, important people and my own growth.  It inspires me and motivates me. A simple song selection can help me move through deep emotions, or get through twenty minutes on the treadmill. The right beat can speed up my productivity or help me fall asleep.

As a reader, I love books that have a playlist. The songs give me a deeper connection to the characters. The music makes their struggles and victories hold that much more resonance. That may be why I chose to write about musicians in my first novel. In fact, creating the playlist was as much fun as writing their story and when I stumble upon those songs on the radio or TV, I get a moment to visit with some of my favorite people. It’s one of the many gifts of music.

Excerpt from The Girl U Want

“You’re making D.J.s famous?” Brad asked.

“You wanna be famous?” Sue tilted her head, holding his gaze. “I’ll make you famous.”

She caught him off guard. It took Brad a few seconds to put together a reply. “Man! There was some heat in that!” He took a swig of beer. “I’m already famous.”

“You’re not famous. You’re the most popular barfly in Detroit. You have a decent following in Michigan, but get away from the Great Lakes and you’re just another guy with a guitar.”

“This woman is mean, Tom.”

“Sue is painfully honest,” Tom clarified.

“And she knows her shit,” Axel added. “She researched tonight’s bands weeks ago. She knew exactly how to promote you before your names were even on the marquee. It’s too bad this isn’t Baltimore or Philly. Sue’s twenty-five and she’s already sent three D.J.s to top tier markets. She could run radio if she wanted to.”

“You just want to be famous. I—” She pointed at herself with both hands “—can make you the disdain of parents the world over.”

He didn’t even try to stop the grin. Instead, Brad pushed Axel out of the way so he could put an arm around Sue. “Come work with us. I don’t want to be famous. I want to be super famous. I want to be the enemy of every father, and more than a few husbands. Tell me how you’ll do it.”

About Elaine Reed

In between organizing her music collection and searching for the ultimate chocolate and tequila pairing, Elaine writes about people with big ambitions and bigger senses of humor.  She lives in South Carolina.

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