“You don’t know everything.” He pinched her ass and grinned when she squealed. “Is that a partnership, then? Or should I cast my lot with one of the racers coming in?”
“Do what you want. Your choice.”
“Aye, that it is.”
“You’ll be sorry with anyone else, though.” A second of profound panic set in. Would he leave her? “I’m the best there is.”
His expression turned serious. “Aye, you are, on many levels.”
A wave of heat washed over Willa’s body, and a huge grin curved her lips. She sagged in his modified hug.
Life was worthless without challenges to reach for, and with Stratton around, the stakes would always be high and stacked with plenty of goals to hit and egos to bust.
“Let’s see about that medical facility. Oh, and clean clothes. And something to eat.” She sighed and stepped off the podium.
“Don’t forget, you’re going to rub my feet and my stomach. Oh, and I want you to tell me more about this ‘thing’ you say you have for me. Does it involve you worshiping me in a bedroom scenario?” He bumped her hip with his.
“You never stop, do you?” But there was no annoyance in her question. He wouldn’t be Stratton if he didn’t drive her to distraction. Willa smiled and quickened her stride. Let him chase her for a while. It would do him good. Life couldn’t be better.
About the Author
Sandra is a writer of romantic fiction. Her portfolio includes historical, contemporary, sci-fi and paranormal romances in full-length books as well as shorts and novellas. No matter if the heat level is spicy or sweet, she loves to blend genres and often times will add humor.
When not immersed in creating new worlds and interesting characters, Sandra likes to read, bake and travel. Her favorite place to spend vacation hours is Walt Disney World. It’s where dreams come true and the soul can play. If she’s not writing, she’s keeping things interesting at her Believing is Seeing blog or spending time with her husband, who patiently answers questions she has about men and/or sci-fi-related subjects.
You can write to Sandra at [email protected], visit her website at www.sandrasookoo.com or look her up on Facebook and Twitter. All links are provided on the front page of her website.
Acknowledgment
I’d like to take a moment and give kudos to my editor, Linda Ingmanson. In my time as an author, I’ve come into contact with many people who work at getting books ready for publication. Editors are a dime a dozen, and finding a good editor is hard enough, but having the opportunity to work with a great editor is rare—especially one who teaches with patience, imparts relevant information and does it all with a touch of humor. She has my eternal gratitude. Linda, I look forward to working with you again.
His planet is his prison…and only she can set him free.
Overlord
© 2011 Anitra Lynn McLeod
The Fringe, Book 2
After a year, Michael “Overlord” Parker finally knows who’s been pilfering his black market goods. Astonishingly, the elusive Bandit of Taiga isn’t a man. It’s a woman, an infuriating spitfire who’s half in love with “Overlord,” Michael’s overly romanticized reputation.
Remarkably Average Mary exudes an intoxicating scent that Michael can’t quite puzzle out, even with his unique ability. As long as she remains bound and blindfolded, he has the advantage—and the bonus of tormenting the bane of his existence.
Mary’s deceptively innocent face has never failed her. Yet somehow she’s ended up at the mercy of a man she knows only as “Commander.” His demands are simple. Surrender her methods of banditry, or surrender her body. As his essence invades her intuitive ability—and her remaining senses—she becomes increasingly frantic to escape before she yields all that and more to her compelling captor.
Their sensual sparring ignites, and Michael finds himself wanting to erase Overlord’s myth from her fantasies in favor of the real man. But first he has to foil the slippery little devil’s escape attempts. And find out who’s been using her to unknowingly help the empire wipe him off the face of his own planet.
Warning: This futuristic romance contains a planet-owning alpha hero, a feisty heroine who can swear in over thirty languages, a side-kick with a crackleseed addiction, witty repartee, epic space battles, sensual karate, and tight black leather pants.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Overlord:
Overlord eyed her speculatively. “You preach to me of not selling your honor, yet think I should walk away from one who steals from me, for you only steal a little bit. Would things be different if I were to steal only a little bit from you?”
He had a good point. Not that Mary was likely to admit it anytime soon, especially to him.
“Honor is as honor does, is it not? Explain to me how you stealing from me is honorable, but me stealing from you isn’t.”
Fidgeting in her chair, she flushed. “I guess the difference is, I steal because I have no other option. I’m a bandit by circumstance, not choice. If you could steal my honor, that would be one thing, but you seem to be of the mind you can buy it. That is what is insulting.”
His sleek eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.
“I’m sorry I stole from you. If I could give your goods back, I would, but I can’t because they’re gone. Keeping me prisoner isn’t going to get your goods back, and I’ll never tell you where they went or why.”
His eyes narrowed, but still, he said nothing.
“My honor may be a bit rusty, but my loyalty isn’t. If I tell you, it’s not my life that’s at risk. One person, me, for all the rest?” She shrugged. “I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”
“Are you the leader?”
She froze as she searched for a diversion.
A slow, quirky grin slid across his face. “You are the leader.”
“So what if I am?” She belied her trepidation by standing. “I don’t see how that helps you.”
“Really?” He sat and rang the crystal bell with an insistent clink.
The young girl popped her head out of the kitchen.
“More wine, Clara, and dessert.” When the girl retreated, he pointed one massive finger. “Sit down and we’ll discuss the matter over dessert.”
“I think I’ve had enough.”
“Not yet you haven’t. Sit.” When she hesitated, he flung the fragile crystal bell to the floor, where it shattered into delicate fragments. “Sit down.”
Mary did. His destruction of the fragile bell made it pretty damn clear she’d pushed him right to the edge. He was a man who few disobeyed and he’d tolerated enough of her insolence and defiance. “I won’t tell you—”
“You don’t have to.”
Clara brought in dessert and wine, then hurried away, the rubber wheels of the cart crunching through the remains of the crystal bell.
Dessert looked like two big white eyes with red pupils staring up from her plate. Strawberries ringed the strange cartoon gaze. “What the hell is—”
“Poached meringues with strawberry sauce.”
“Freaking child’s nightmare.” She shoved the plate away. “Wouldn’t your life be a lot easier if you just let me go?”
“Back to your life of crime? I don’t think so. If I have the ringleader, it’s unlikely the gang will continue to rob me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Won’t cost me but a pittance to keep you around and find out for sure, now, will it?” He took a casual bite of his dessert.
“Fine.” She shrugged. “Keep me here. Eventually you’ll get bored. Something else will come along, strike your fancy, and you’ll gladly send me on my way without a second thought.”
“I think you could keep me entertained for years. Just watching you eat is a spectacle.” He dabbed his mouth with a pristine red napkin. “You eat like an animal.”
She gritted her teeth. “Feel like trading insults? Fine.” Saluting him with her glass, she deliberately wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “By t
he same token, I’m fascinated by you, a man who’s mastered feminine traits I’ve never even dreamed of.” She chugged her drink, belched slightly behind her hand, set the delicate glass on the table and refilled it. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see you in a dress, you pampered pansy.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously and he spoke through gritted teeth. “You like playing with fire, don’t you?”
“You obviously don’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have strapped a luller to my wrist.” She took another slug of liquid courage. “Since I can’t strike at you with my fist, you’d best get used to my mouth.”
He leaned intimately close and whispered, “I could get used to your mouth, provided I’m the one keeping it occupied.”
She wondered what he could possibly mean. When she figured it out, a flush crept into her cheeks. When the prospect of doing that to him excited her, she flushed harder.
“You rape all your prisoners, or just the women?”
His gaze traveled from her face, to the V of her shirt, then to the juncture of her thighs. “Is that what it would take?”
Her body thrummed from fabulous food, glorious wine and the sexiest man in the Void. He could seduce any woman he wanted. Any woman he didn’t want. One wink, and women would swoon. One kiss, and pants would drop or skirts would lift.
“Since you can’t buy me, now you think you can seduce me?”
“Yes.” Cocky arrogance, probably well deserved, emanated from him.
Mary didn’t know which would give out first—her loyalty, or her resistance to the erotic lust he’d awakened in her. Captive and captor. Each time she thought of the duality, her body shivered with fear and desire.
Carefully crafted daydreams involving her shadowy hero, Overlord, always had an element of captivity and surrender. Here, clearly, was a man who could turn dark daydreams to vivid reality. More than loyalty held her back. Foolish, young-girl fantasies held her back. To him, sex was a game, a way to pass the time in an enjoyable pursuit. To her, intimacy held consequences. Not just to herself but also to everyone she fought to save.
Days without food and sleep, her belly now full, and her mind rendered silly by very fine wine, she stood. “Whatever your plans for me, at least—you once offered me a day to rest—let me have a night to sleep.” Had he any honor at all, he would grant her such a minor request.
“As I am a generous host, I will indulge you.” Seven feet of male uncoiled, reminding her she was no match for him physically.
“Should I kowtow to you now or later?” She swayed, closing her eyes against his potent smile. If he didn’t take pity on her, she would fall asleep at his bare feet.
“Follow me.”
Stepping carefully around the shards of glass on the floor, he left the dining room and strode through the grand ballroom to one of the huge doors between the pillars.
“House, this will be Mary’s room. Update and confirm.”
“Yes, Commander. Record of Mary updated with new parameters.”
The peach-colored door swung open.
“Where’s the—” As soon as she entered the room, lights blazed. “Christ almighty! Turn them off!” Mary threw her hand up to shield her weary eyes.
“House, set the lights to level three.”
The glare dropped to a soothing, warm tone. She glanced around the huge room. A span of open floor space made the bed seem a mile away. Even so, the bed looked big enough for six people. Puffs of shimmering gauze draped the four towering posters of the bed. Carpet to covers were the same pinky-orange color, like carrots stored too long in the cold. Ruffles, lace and a strong, sweet stench of flowers marked this as a woman’s room.
“Good night, Commander.” She faced him, making no effort to hide her crushing exhaustion. At this moment, she didn’t care if the room he offered came draped in black with gravestones decked about and a skull-and-crossbones flapping overhead. For a few uninterrupted hours of sleep, she’d take it.
To her shock, he scooped her up into his arms. He smelled good—citrus and pine. He felt impossibly strong—all bones and muscle. Long strides later, he tucked her into the welcoming folds of the massive bed. Warm and soft as a dinner roll, so unlike her hard-tack cabin bunk, the bed gave way below her as she melted into its silk embrace.
Being a prisoner suddenly didn’t seem so horrific. Her mind damn near stripped gears when he didn’t leave but hovered over her. All this luxury would come at a price.
She cast a wary eye over the edge of the blanket. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. This bed is your bed too?”
“Would you like it to be?” Soft as the silk on her skin, his voice smoothed against her ear.
When revenge, secrets and lust collide, there can only be chaos.
Clash
© 2011 Yolanda Sfetsos
Recast, Book 2
Jenks Maine is dead, but the devastating effects forcing Recast to fight in the arena goes on. Half-Recast Ace Abu is determined to put a stop to it. All he needs is to get to the planet Fray, locate the concealed Clash Arena, and destroy it. But first he has to cross half the galaxy before the sound and smell of his partners’ nonstop lovemaking drives him mad.
By the time he parks himself on a barstool in the town of Grit, he’s more than ready for a few beers. Except the sexy singer on stage is only making him—and his inner beast—burn hotter.
Ely’Shea longs for the freedom Jenks stole from her. She’s his right-hand woman, but when the boss is away she steps out of her enforcer role and ducks into a remote bar to indulge her passion: singing onstage. The night she catches a glimpse of an alluring cowboy in the audience, he ignites a spark inside her she never thought she’d feel again.
Unable to resist temptation, they’re consumed by passion…but once the fuses are set, their deepest personal secrets could blow any chance of forever all to hell.
Warning: This book contains a very lonely shapeshifter in need of some loving, a kick-ass singer leading a double life, a serious case of mutual lust, an arena filled with enslaved warriors, and so many secrets it can only end in total madness.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Clash:
Ace pocketed the pouch, turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the singer, who was now walking away from a stall and turned left at the next intersection of tables. He could smell her from here. That rich and striking vanilla scent she’d carried last night tickled his nose.
Ace quickened his pace, positive he was headed in the right direction even though this aisle seemed to be mostly empty.
He stopped and looked around.
She’d vanished.
Ace sniffed the air and continued on, following the vanilla trail. She had to be here somewhere.
“I can read your palm,” a crooked old lady called as he passed by a small round table with a crystal ball sitting on top. His shape reflected in the glass like a demented mirror.
“No thanks.”
“What about your eye, or foot…how about your heart? I can read your heart.” The old woman’s smile revealed a row of tiny, pointy teeth. “Do you want me to?”
He shook his head and walked on. This aisle was probably empty because there weren’t any real wares, just readers. To accept a reading from anyone here would ensure death. When the old lady claimed she could read his heart, she wasn’t referring to romantic notions.
As he continued down the mostly empty path, a cry sounded from somewhere. He turned to look behind him and didn’t notice someone sneaking up on him.
His right arm was twisted painfully against his back.
“Why are you following me?” asked a husky female voice near his ear.
He made a move to look over his shoulder but she wrenched his arm higher, tighter between them. It hurt like hell but he bit back a groan. “I’m not following you,” he lied. Ace knew who this was. Her scent made his pulse throb.
“Oh no? I just saw you run past me. You’re following me.” Every word tickled his ear. “Now, move with me. Nice and slo
wly. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Ace managed a nod and took a step back with every one of hers. She led him behind a curtained stall.
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
“Nothing, I don’t want—”
“You’re lying.” She kept her tight grip, but he managed to lift his head enough to flick it back, aiming for her forehead. The move surprised her and she pulled out of reach, stumbling back a few steps. Her hands fell away from him.
“I’m sorry I had to do that but—” Her fist whacked his nose in midturn and he recoiled. “Damn.” Ace lifted a hand to his face, swiped his finger underneath his nostrils and stared at the blood.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t break it.” Ely was glaring at him. “Although I’m not making any promises the next time you try something like that. Now, why were you following me?”
Ely might be dressed differently and her demeanor didn’t seem as soft and collected as it had on stage, but she still looked good enough to eat in her tight outfit. He took a step forward but she took one back. They were running out of room.
“Don’t come any closer,” she said holding up a fist.
He couldn’t help but smile. “I want to get much closer. It’s why I’m following you.” He sounded like an idiot, but with her standing this close his hands itched to grab her. Her smell was intoxicating. He had to touch her before she slipped away.
She put a hand on her hip. “You’re following me because you want to get closer?”
“Yeah, and I think you might want to get close to me as well.”
Ely laughed and looked away. “Right, what gave you that idea?”
“Last night gave me that idea.” Ace stepped forward until he had her pressed up against the wall with nowhere to go. He grinned. She was only a head shorter than him.
Ricochet Page 22
