UPDATE: The winner of the gift card is…Renee Mulholland!

* * * * *

Some of you may know, but one of my favorite publishers, Samhain Publishing, closed its doors a month ago. I had 27 titles published with them, and now I have to get every one of those stories refurbed, recovered, and back out in the world. So, I’m starting here. With a story I love about a woman entrepreneur in hot-as-hell West Texas who’s about to fall under the spell of a very special town—Two Mule, Texas. Those of you who love my Lone Star Lovers series recognize that name. Don’t you want to know whether kinkiness is something new the present-day town folk are embracing, or whether it’s been there a while…?

Check out Joe and Honey’s story—but I warn you: Be prepared to laugh and sweat!

Sweeter Than Honey

Honey Cafferty lives a happy but precarious existence as a traveling saleswoman, searching for a sense of belonging. From her colorful wagon she brews decoctions to cure ennui, sleeplessness, hysteria—and after a visit from a mysterious Mexican curandera—she believes she’s found the way to improve a man’s libido. But how can she package her “Elixir of Love” without being run out on a rail from the nearest town for selling something that produces such carnal effects?

Sheriff Joe Tanner is protective of his little town and downright hostile toward anyone who takes advantage of the fine folk in Two-Mule, Texas. When sees the gypsy wagon roll into town, he’s ready to hurry the snake oil salesman on his way, but Honey isn’t what he expected. When the men of the town begin to plead exhaustion and place the blame for their state squarely on the pretty little redhead’s shoulders, he has to investigate.

Get your copy here!

Excerpt…

Finally, they reached his office, and Honey breezed inside and set her bag on his desk. He closed the door behind him and turned to find more faces peering through the window. He cursed under his breath and pointed to the inner room where the jailhouse was.

Her back stiffened, but she didn’t demur and stepped inside. When he had her out of sight and hearing of all the interested folk of Two Mule, he lifted a foot and nudged the door closed behind them.

Honey had her back to him and lifted her slim hand to smooth her hair.

He stayed silent, deciding to let her stew for a minute. When someone got nervous, they tended to talk, and Joe wanted to hear everything the little lady had to say.

At last, she cleared her throat and turned, a small, tight smile pasted on her lips. “Am I under arrest, Sheriff?”

“Should you be?”

Her breath gasped, lifting her gently rounded chest against her staid gray shirtwaist jacket. “You’re angry with me.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned his back against the door and tried not to think too hard about the fact they were completely alone. A tantalizing prospect he’d imagined often the past couple of days.

As he watched her standing in the narrow, darkly lit room with the bars of the cell block behind her, his imaginings became disturbingly carnal. He cleared his throat and forced his mind back to business. “I sold you a license to solicit your medicines,” he said, keeping his voice even although the memory of her straddling Paddy Mulligan still burned hot. “Yet I found you rolling on the floor of a saloon, performing surgery.”

She gave a short, strained laugh. “I wasn’t rolling on the floor. Paddy’s a large man, and I couldn’t see into his mouth when he was seated. Besides, I only pulled a tooth. I do have some expertise—”

“I’m getting complaints about possible poisonings—”

“Poison?” Her finely arched brows rose. “I don’t deal in poisons, sir.”

“Then explain why all the married men in town have taken to their beds.”

She opened her mouth but quickly clamped it shut. Her back straightened.

“You don’t deny you’re responsible?”

A blush the color of the pink roses his mama used to grow spread quickly across her cheeks and down her neck to disappear beneath her collar. “It’s not what you think, Sheriff.”

He wondered if the blush extended to her breasts, but didn’t dare let his gaze fall below her rounded chin. “Then tell me exactly what it is.”

She lifted that stubborn chin high. “I can’t. That information is privileged. Meant to remain private between me and the persons I sold the medicine to, like a priest receiving confessions or a doctor—”

“You’re no doctor. Those rules don’t apply.”

“Have you talked to these men? Have any of them made complaints against me?”

“No, but you’re up to something, and I don’t want any trouble.” And she was trouble with a capital T. “I’m thinking you should hitch up your wagon and head on down the road.”

She blinked and, for a moment, her expression faltered. “I had hoped to winter here. Mrs. Sessions—”

“Is an innocent lady. She’s not wise to your ways.”

Her stillness cut him, and he felt heat warm the back of his neck and the tips of his ears. He’d crossed the line between being professional and being cruel.

She jutted her chin higher and fisted her hands on her hips. “You’re implying I’m not…innocent?”

His gaze swept over her, from the tip of her red-haired head to her toes. Another insult. He couldn’t seem to help himself where she was concerned. Something about her had him firing with both barrels blazing. “You travel alone—without a chaperone. What’s a man supposed to think about that?”

She took a step closer, drawing her eyebrows together in a fierce scowl. “Being alone in the world means I’m a whore?” she said, her voice rising.

“A decent woman,” he bit out, “would set roots in a community—seek help and protection from a husband or her neighbor.”

“I don’t need any man to protect me or my virtue, sir.”

“I’ll grant you had me and most of the town fooled. But your charm’s a little too practiced, and you’ve got a slick tongue.”

Her mouth gaped, and her cheeks went from pink to a dark red that clashed with her bright hair. “A slick tongue?”

Her anger goaded him on like a burr under a saddle. “You’re a snake-oil salesman, a charlatan—”

She stepped so close her chest nearly touched his, and she glared up into his face. “Now, you look here, buster,” she said, pointing a finger at his chest and giving him a nudge. “I’m a business woman. I sell cures people need. I haven’t broken any laws, and I sure as hell haven’t poisoned one damn person in this town.” She paused to catch her breath…and that’s when it happened.

Her breasts brushed his chest, and he felt a spark arc between their bodies, igniting a fire as fierce as lightning striking dry prairie grass. It filled his loins with a heavy, pulsating heat and drew his balls tight and close to his groin. He shot out his hands and grasped her shoulders to pull her flush against his body, but he halted, holding her an inch away. What he wanted of her wasn’t very civilized. Best not cross that line.

“Sheriff?” Her plump, pink lips gasped, but she tilted her head back.

Invitation enough. He slammed his mouth down onto hers even while he damned himself for being a fool.

Contest

For a chance to win a small Amazon gift card, answer me this…

Have you read my Lone Star Lover stories?
Do you love sexy menage stories involving cowboys?

Even though I’m a city girl, I often write about cowboys and Texas…maybe because I grew up in South Texas where cowboys and ranching loom large. My cousins had ranches and horses they let me ride whenever I visited them in North Texas. I attended camps that had rodeos, so I performed in those rodeos and went to rodeos frequently. My brother and I had toy guns, holsters, ropes and our brooms were our horses.  When I grew up and married, I married a man who wore Levis and boots and owned guns and land in the Texas Hill Country.  The Texas mythology was as much a part of him as it was of me.

Many of our friends have ranches or grew up on ranches. Two of my neighbors are the heiresses of two huge legendary South Texas ranches. Yesterday I visited a girlfriend out on her ranch, La Mota. Her father once owned a creamery in South Texas that made locally famous butter. He put together a huge ranch (nearly 500,000 acres). But time and downturns in the economy forced the family to scale down. They still have their homestead which was built in a beautiful Texas oak mott.

In South Texas the land is mostly a coastal plain which was part of the sea. Mostly it is just brush country. But every now and again, hundreds of oak trees clump together into a stand of trees we call an oak mott. Many ranchers build their homes in an oak mott to get a relief from the blistering South Texas sun.

Nestled inside gorgeous live oak trees, my friend’s home feels like a bird sanctuary.  Inside, the house is filled with ranching antiques, heavy Spanish or German furniture from the 19^th century. On the eastern side of her home, she has a lovely high-ceilinged screened porch with birdfeeders hanging from its eaves outside. In a distant pastures hundreds of wild turkeys cackled excitedly as they gathered to get ready to roost in the spreading branches of her oaks for the night. In another pasture sandhilled cranes were landing with a similar goal in mind.

In my 8-book series, Texas: Children of Destiny, I try to make South Texas and its larger than life cowboys and their brides come alive for my readers. Passion’s Child (Book 1) is free.

ANN MAJOR, author of Passion’s Child, Destiny’s Child, and Night Child (Books 1, 2 and 3 of TEXAS: CHILDREN OF DESTINY series) and Love With An Imperfect Cowboy (Book 1 Lone Star Dynasty)

www.annmajor.com
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Here’s a little secret about Austin, Texas that one might not know about unless you’re a lady actually living in or around Austin… Austin does NOT have a strip club for women.  Yes.  You read that right.  There are zero, nada, zip, zilch strip clubs for women in Austin, Texas.  Sounds crazy, I completely feel you, but it’s true.

I found this information out the hard way.  It was late. I was at a big birthday party for a girlfriend, and we all decided that a trip down to the local strip club would be an excellent way to wrap up what had already been a pretty fabulous party.  After looking everywhere on-line for a club, we concluded we were SOL (shoot out of luck).  A true downer and quite a shocking surprise.  After all, Austin is a good-sized city loaded with women.  How could it be that the city would have several clubs for men to see women dancing, but none available for women?

From this experience, an idea was born.  Why not create a fictional strip club for women based in the heart of Austin – South Congress Avenue? Imagine the fabulous characters who can work in the club or visit the club, I told myself. Why, there would be enough characters and situations to write an entire series of stories!

And I was right. There ARE loads of interesting characters and situations that I’ve invented for a new series, the Iron Rods Strip Club Series.  In Unmasked Secrets, a standalone book (book 2 in the series), readers meet the masked stripper whose stage name is The Dom. He uses a riding crop in his act and gives out pink collars studded with rhinestones to those ladies who hire him for private lap dances.

What readers discover in this book is why our hero needs a mask, as well his journey into the world of BDSM.  Here’s a the blurb…

Hannah Armstrong, the new principal of Santana High School is a complete ball buster, so Mack Garner, her drama teacher, thinks. Her cutbacks to his department’s budget will force him to scrimp on his students—something he refuses to do. The stubborn woman won’t listen to reason so he’s taking matters into his own hands. He devises a plan to secretly replenish the money that is surefire, as long as he’s not found out. By stripping under the stage name The Dom and using an ironclad disguise at Iron Rods, Austin’s only strip club for women, he and his hard body will have his program flush again and soon.

But Hannah Armstrong has secrets of her own. The rigid, by-the-rules school administrator harbors dark desires to surrender to the titillation of BDSM. She needs a man—a real man—who can melt her inhibitions and master her. Exploring the lifestyle is a dangerous proposition for a small town principal though. Any whiff of scandal would destroy her career. She’s nearly given up on the dream until she meets a masked Dom at Iron Rods. The gorgeous male stripper so far away in Austin seems like the perfect solution. Is there a chance she can satisfy her furtive fantasies without being discovered?

**Warning – this book contains BDSM elements, graphic sex and touches of humor.

This series, the Iron Rods Strip Club Series, is truly one from my heart, as well as my imagination. Austin, Texas, one of my favorite cities in the world, is key to the series.  If you’ve ever been there, perhaps you can understand my love for the place I hope stays weird forever.

Click a link to order your copy Unmasked Secrets.
Amazon
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Here’s an excerpt from Unmasked Secrets.  If this doesn’t get your engine revving, then seek emergency medical help because you might be dead. *grin*

Unmasked Secrets  by Brenna Zinn.  All rights reserved.

“Please tell me,” she articulated each word slowly, ignoring his comment. “What will it take to get you to agree to teach math classes this summer?”

“Now that is a very interesting question. Yes, indeed. I need to give this a little thought.” He raised his head and brushed at the light stubble under his chin. “Hmm… This may take a little while. When do I need to get back to you?”

Hannah flattened her palms on the top of her desk, pushing her face within inches of his. “Take as much time as you need.”

Garner tapped the pad of a finger on his ripe lips. “I think I know.”

“Yes?” She prepared herself for what he might possibly dish out. A raise? More money for his program?

Sex?

Her lower extremities spasmed at the inappropriate thought. The scandalous ache in her breasts returned. Aside from the silent scream from her nipples to be suckled and bitten, the muscles in her bottom flexed with the desire to be spanked. The handsome blond with enticing blue eyes must surely be phenomenal in bed. All rough handling and forceful thrusts…

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Her fantasies were rising too close to the surface. In her office during school hours was not the place or the time for imaginings of teeth bearing down on her skin or having her backside reddened. She absolutely had to stop reading those erotic books. Either that, or she had to find the kind of man who could properly relieve her sexual misery. The sooner, the better.

Garner snapped his fingers in front of her face. “You okay?”

Hannah blinked several times and shook her head. Goodness gracious and heaven above. She’d zoned out. Zoned out at work! Things were worse than she’d feared. “Absolutely,” she lied, fighting both her headache and the erotic charges surging through body. “You were saying something about what you want.”

“I want you to beg.” He offered a sadistic smile. “I want you to beg me to teach math this summer.”

“Beg?” A wash of cream flowed way down below, soaking her already moist panties. Her blood, heated and charged with arousal, sprinted through her veins. Was she dreaming?

Was he serious?

Had Garner somehow divined her dark secret?

Impossible.

She’d been so careful, saying absolutely nothing to anyone, not even her closest friend or sister, about her wicked desires. Which was exactly how things had to be. If anyone discovered the principal of Santana High School had anything to do with the world of bondage and submission, she could lose not only her job, but her career.

“Yes. I want you to beg.” His gaze bored into hers. “I want you to know how I felt when I came into this office and pleaded for you not to take money from the theater arts program.”

Though his demand raised the hackles on the back of her neck—how dare he, her subordinate, think to challenge her—an odd sense of relief mixed with sexual awareness swept through her body. His demand, arrogant and self-righteous, was far better than his having guessed her hidden desires. It also had her legs quivering with excitement.

Would she give in to his extreme bidding?

Did she have a choice?

Yes, of course she had choices, but none that worked as well. And, truth be told, did she really she want one?

A full beat passed, feeling more like minutes than seconds.

“Tick-tock, Ms. Armstrong,” he pressed.

She licked her lips as her mental debate continued.

Garner pointed to his watch. “You’re wasting my prep period.”

“All right, “she said on a sigh. “As you wish. Please, please, please teach math this summer.”

“No, no, no. You have to put some heart behind it,” Garner insisted, his fist pounding her desk. “I won’t agree to do anything unless I believe you’re sincere. I’m a trained actor, so it had better be good.”

“Seriously?”

“I want to be convinced you really mean it. Otherwise, no deal.”

The muscles in her back and shoulders tightened. Oh, I’ll give you convincing, all right. You want me to beg? I’ll give you the begging performance of the century. You’ll hand me an Oscar when I’m through, you insolent son of a bitch. She regarded the man so many people adored and reminded herself of her primary mission—dig the school out of its “Improvement Required” status—then closed her eyes.

Drawing in a breath, she cleared her mind of everything except the one man who had already mastered her in many private fantasies. The elusive being to whom she would willingly submit. Willingly beg.

The Dom of her dreams.

He, the powerful male both strong and gentle, waited in shadowy relief in her mind’s eye. Though darkness masked his face, she could make out the flogger in his hand. Its many strips of leather dangled from a wooden handle.

Her Master raised the tool.

“Touch the tresses. Feel how soft they are.”

His voice, low and steady, enveloped her as if being wrapped in a comforting blanket, shielding her from any doubts and fears.

“Yes, Sir.” She leaned forward, her arm outstretched.

“On your knees,” he instructed. “When I hold this flogger, you must always be on your knees to touch it. You will show my most favorite tool proper and unfailing respect. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Naked and unafraid, she fell to both knees before him, and then ran her fingers through the long pieces of lambskin. Unimaginably supple, the tresses were like velvet to the touch.

“Place your hands on the floor.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she did so, splaying her fingers and bracing herself.

Her shadow Master moved behind her, trailing the ends of the leather strips down her bare back and onto her ass. Her nerves, heightened and tingling with expectancy, danced beneath every inch of her skin. Her body ached, truly ached, to feel the biting sting of the tresses.

“Now beg,” he ordered. “Beg me to do what I know you want. What I know you need.”

Hannah’s eyelids flew open, taking in Mack Garner. As though still in her dream, her mouth moved unbidden and gave voice to words originating from her very soul.

“Please. Oh, God, please,” she pleaded on an exhale, desperation tingeing her tone. “I want this so badly. I need this. Please, do this for me.”

The smirk on Garner’s face melted. His cheeks sagged. With the exception of the dazed look glazing his eyes, which were now the size of baseballs, his face transformed to a blank slate.

“Sincere enough for you, Mr. Garner?” she asked.

About the Author

Brenna hails from the Lone Star state where she lives with her husband and four dogs, three of which are as big as long horns.  She’s a fun-loving writer who likes nothing better than to explore while she travels (no planned excursions, please!), eat what others cook (it works out better for everyone that way), and avoid the gym whenever possible.

Her journey through life has taken her all over the United States, as well as many places throughout the world. Using her travel experience as a guide and peppering in interesting characters she’s met along the way, she loves nothing better than weaving tales of romance and leaving readers yearning for adventures of their own.

Click these links to follow Brenna!

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My sister and I have a co-authored book coming out on January 31st—next Tuesday—and we’d like you to know all about it! It’s the sequel to Tarzan & Janine. If you love stories that will  make you laugh, you’ll enjoy this series! And best yet? There’s more to come!

Something to Talk About

What happens when a young and sexy Martha Stewart teams up with the Oscar Madison of radio talk shows? Sparks fly, romance blooms and their audience goes wild!

Casey Cramer is a cool, sophisticated home and garden talk show host on K-YAK 102.5 radio station. All she thinks she wants is to talk about fertilizer and place settings, while fending off her well-meaning country club parents’ attempts to push her into marriage with the “right man.”

To Casey, fellow talk show host, Rip O’Rourke, is nothing more than a rebellious, overgrown teenager flaunting his Hawaiian-shirted, ex-football player physique to “score” with anything with breasts. Proof of his perversity is the crude, but popular, hour of programming he hosts that discusses such manly topics as wet T-shirt contests and sports statistics. Casey wouldn’t spit on Rip if he were on fire, while Rip, on the other hand, wants to do more than spend time with Casey. She is a challenge to mankind as a whole and his goal in life is to see her crisp shirts and tailored slacks properly rumpled, just once.

Rip gets his opportunity when the radio station is sold to a large corporation and the station manager is challenged to come up with a prime-time show that will set the city on its ear. From one of Rip and Casey’s public arguments springs the idea for a show about the differences between men and women, and giving their audience, “Something to Talk About.”

Purchase at: Amazon | Nook | Kobo | GooglePlay | Print

I have a yuge day ahead of me (I can’t ever think that word without hearing that pronunciation now 🙁 ). I’ll be busy from the time I rise until well into the evening—starting two new projects, editing for another author, reading the last of the Blue Collar short stories… Maybe it’s a good time to remind you that I have two stories coming your way this month, both set in Texas.

The first is a cowboy story, the first I ever wrote, I think. All scrubbed up and fresh. And with a sexy new cover…

Completely lickable, isn’t he? I wrote this forever ago for a now-defunct publisher. I didn’t know I had a cowboy in me until I wrote it, and look where I’ve gone ever since!

This one is a novella and releases on January 24th. Here’s what the story is about…

Katelyn Carter came to rural Texas to lick her wounds and start over after her failed marriage, but a sexy young cowboy seems determined to show her that love is still in the cards for this single librarian.

Sheriff’s deputy Daniel Bodine answers a 911 call to remove a rattlesnake from his new neighbor’s bedroom. What he finds is an embarrassed Katelyn, dressed in little more than her pretty pink blushes. One little omission later, and he’s working for the lady as her handyman.

Burned once by a man, Katelyn fights her growing attraction but finds Daniel more temptation than she can resist. When he shows her he knows his way around a woman’s body as well as he does a hammer and a saw, she takes a walk on the nasty side, vainly hoping she can keep her heart free of entanglement.

Pre-order your copy here!

Then there’s this one, a novel co-written with my sister, and a follow-up to Tarzan & Janine. Yes, together, we write romantic comedies. Something to Talk About releases January 31st!

What happens when Martha Stewart teams up with the Oscar Madison of radio talk shows? Sparks fly, romance blooms and their audience goes wild!

Casey Cramer is a cool, sophisticated home and garden talk show host on K-YAK 102.5 radio station. All she thinks she wants is to talk about fertilizer and place settings, while fending off her well-meaning country club parents’ attempts to push her into marriage with the “right man.”

To Casey, fellow talk show host, Rip O’Rourke, is nothing more than a rebellious, overgrown teenager flaunting his Hawaiian-shirted, ex-football player physique to “score” with anything with breasts. Proof of his perversity is the crude, but popular, hour of programming he hosts that discusses such manly topics as wet T-shirt contests and sports statistics. Casey wouldn’t spit on Rip if he were on fire, while Rip, on the other hand, wants to do more than spend time with Casey. She is a challenge to mankind as a whole and his goal in life is to see her crisp shirts and tailored slacks properly rumpled, just once.

Rip gets his opportunity when the radio station is sold to a large corporation and the station manager is challenged to come up with a prime-time show that will set the city on its ear. From one of Rip and Casey’s public arguments springs the idea for a show about the differences between men and women, and giving their audience, “Something to Talk About.”

Pre-order your copy here (more outlets coming soon!):

Amazon | Kobo | Google Play