by Lauren Dane
She fought her blush at the not so very idle thought of what those muscles would look like naked.
“Afternoon, Jack. Your smoothie is coming right up. How about apple, mango, banana today?”
“Do I have to? How about some coffee instead?”
“You are such a baby. Fine, get scurvy. See if I care when your teeth fall out and your muscles won’t work. You won’t be nearly as pretty that way.”
He laughed, surprised. “Pretty huh? You noticed.” His look was smug and she rolled her eyes as she scooped the fruit into the blender.
“You sell coffee, how can you be anti-coffee?”
“I’m not anti-coffee. I love coffee, have it every day in fact. But I’m looking at you and I bet you’ve been up since before dawn and I also bet you’ve had at least three cups by now. So I’m saying have some fruit.” She poured the smoothie into a cup and pushed it his way.
He sipped so cautiously she wanted to laugh. “You’re a werewolf, how can you be afraid of fruit?” She kept her voice low.
“You never did tell me how you knew that.”
“I saw your other self.” She shrugged, noticing Phoenix watching from the other end of the store.
“It’d be a lot easier if you’d come out to lunch with me so we could speak privately.”
“That’s not going to happen. I told you. I’m taken.”
“I have so much to say to you. So much I need to explain.” He leaned in, earnest look on his face. “But you’ve got observers. Your boss keeps watching.”
“That’s not my boss,” she said, annoyed. “That’s my father’s wife. She owns the shop, but not me or this cart.”
His hand tightened on the counter’s edge. “Are you not welcome here?”
In the light, his wolf shimmered briefly and she drew a deep breath. Not from fear, but from fascination. He was beautiful. And fearsome.
“It’s family, family is always complicated.”
He moved his hand, just barely touching hers with a fingertip before drawing away. “I don’t like to think about anyone harming you or making you sad.”
She swallowed, hard. “Why?” Her whisper held her angst at how much it meant to her that he’d say it, her confusion and no small amount of fear. Not of him, but of what he might mean to her.
And then something else, something warm and soft rushed through her system. She looked to the door and saw Galen standing there, looking so handsome and slightly angry, she wanted to fan herself.
Instead she watched, unable not to, as he stalked over, his eyes never leaving hers.
These elements have no desire to be tamed…
Stormchild
© 2010 Vivian Arend
Pacific Passion, Book 1
As the new traveling doctor for the Pacific Inside Passage settlements, Matthew Jentry balances dual roles for his water-shifter people—caring for their health as a human-trained physician, and for their spiritual needs as a shaman.
Distractions of the female kind are not on his agenda, but his magical bloodline makes him a target for every marriage-minded woman within range. There’s something about the mysterious Laurin Marshall, though, that he finds far too enticing. It’s just as well that it’s time for him to move on.
Laurin thought she had perfected her guise as a mild-mannered teacher, but the sexual fireworks she and Matt touch off are threatening to blow her cover out of the water. Luckily it’s time for her to catch the boat to her next assignment.
When she discovers she’ll be sailing with Matt, she realizes there’s only one thing more dangerous than their unforgettable one-night stand—being trapped with him on a boat that gives “riding out the storm” a whole new meaning…
Warning: Contains strong sexual currents and powerful waves of desire that break down inhibitions. Recommended only for those able to navigate through extremely steamy situations, on land and at sea.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Stormchild:
She jerked herself upright. What the hell was up with her hormones?
Laurin enjoyed sex. Not in the “need it, gotta have it” daily kinda way like her caffeine or dark chocolate. But ever since she’d laid eyes on Matthew Jentry, she’d been like a homing pigeon trying to come back to roost. She imagined his capable hands on the wheel, guiding them through the dangerous passage. Better yet to imagine his hands on her body, smoothing up her torso to cup her breasts, his dark skin contrasting with her fairness. He’d roll his thumbs over her nipples while supporting the aching globes in his palms.
Laurin leaned back on the short countertop and closed her eyes. God, she could almost feel it, the tingling sensation from her tight nubs trailing through her body to fire her core. She rubbed her breasts in an attempt to stop the throbbing. The sensation felt so wonderful she trailed a hand down her belly, slipping under the elastic waistband of her shorts to press on her aching clit. Desire wrapped around her like a cloud on the mountaintop and she was powerless to stop it.
Curses sounded from the deck above her and she startled, suddenly realizing she was fondling herself where Matt could walk in at any time. Heat flushed her face and she hurried to deal with the now-singing kettle. Her heart thumped in her throat and her hands shook as she poured the water into the French press she’d found. Then she leaned her forehead on the cool glass of the small round window in the saloon, trying to calm her soul. By the time the coffee was ready she was back to being agitated instead of direly horny. She stirred an extra spoonful of sugar into her travel mug in the hopes the calories would help her deal with the stress.
She stared at the second cup in frustration. She didn’t know how he liked his coffee and she was scared to death to go up the four steps to the wheelhouse and ask him. That would require actually looking at his face. Speaking to him.
Oh hell, she was screwed big-time.
The engine sound faded and she turned in a panic to face the door, her hands clutching her cup protectively in front of her like a shield. Solid footsteps paced away for a minute, a loud splash sounded, and then the steps returned. The door opened smoothly and his sandaled feet appeared as he took the stairs toward her two at a time. He stopped at the base, his chest heaving. His nostrils flared as he glared at her with his cobalt eyes.
He slowed his approach. One step. Two. The third put him toe to toe with her and she shrank back against the counter. He loosened her death grip on the cup, reaching past her to place it somewhere behind her. Their torsos touched and scalding heat flashed. Laurin realized she held her breath and she released it slowly, a puff at a time. He shifted and his firm chest brushed her already erect nipples. He caged her, one arm on either side of her body before deliberately pressing his hips into her. Oh hell, his erection felt huge against her belly. Moisture flooded her passage and she whimpered.
Matt leaned into her harder, every inch of their bodies in contact. He tilted his head and approached her mouth. She was sure he must hear the roaring beat of her heart. He touched their lips together, his eyelashes brushing hers like a butterfly’s kiss and she exhaled with a little moan.
She was on fire. This wasn’t what she’d expected.
Matt spoke against her lips, his voice shaking. Every word punctuated with a soft kiss. “You’re…driving…me…insane.”
Then the storm broke between them and his gentleness vanished. She flung her arms around him and pulled his lips to hers. Lightning flared between their souls, the frenzy of her needs whipping like the whitecaps outside on the ocean. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she accepted it, sucking it in uneven pulses. Their hips ground together and she wrapped a leg around his hip, opening her body in an attempt to line up her clit with the tempting rock of his erection. He thrust into her, lifting her hips slightly to help and then it was there. Just what she needed—the angle, the pressure. She groaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound. The air around them heated, rippling with magic as he lifted her to the surface of the counter. Behind her the coffee mug tipped, rolling
harmlessly into the sink with a clatter. His hands were busy, unsnapping her shorts, tugging at her T-shirt.
“I need to touch you. I need to see you.” He growled and stepped back, shaking his head like a wild beast. The lightning came from his eyes and she stared in fascination as he leaned on the wall across from her. They were all of three feet apart and it seemed like a mile. “I don’t understand this. I will stop if you ask me to, but God I hope you feel like I do. I have to have you again.”
Panic hit. Then delight. Fear followed rapidly by desire. His need poured over her, echoed by her own arousal. Now? Here? “The storm…”
“The ship is anchored in a bay. We’re as safe as we’re going to get.” His hands clenched into fists, his entire body rigid. A wave of magic floated past her again, overwhelming her senses. She reached deep to try to counter it. It had been so long since she’d used that part of her nature her skin burned. The answering flash of passion that exploded from within was not what she expected. Instead of cooling her ardor for the shaman watching her with lust in his eyes, her fascination grew.
He was willing to stop? Oh God, if he stopped she would die.
A bootlegger will save her life. A debutante will steal his heart.
A Safe Harbor
© 2010 Moira Rogers
Building Sanctuary, Book 1
Joan Fuller enjoyed a privileged life—until her wealth and connections garnered her the wrong sort of attention. Her rejection of a textile heir’s proposal comes back to bite her when he turns out to be a werewolf on the prowl for a mate.
She may have been turned against her will, but now that she’s part of his pack she sets out to protect all its women. Even if that means joining forces with a witch and a vampire—and leaving the comfort of Boston.
Former bootlegger Seamus Whelan has cleaned up his act, but when his old partner Gavin comes to him for help, he can’t say no—no matter how deadly the threat. Escorting some female wolves to safety should have been easy, except their leader is a prim ex-debutante with enough power to challenge Seamus himself.
Her courage captures his interest, and her first hesitant kiss ensnares his heart. But before they can build a haven for their kind, they must free themselves of the past—and the powerful man who’s out to teach her a lesson she may not survive…
Warning: This novella contains a rakish werewolf bootlegger forced to join forces with a teetotaling ex-debutante as they fight epic battles, engage in criminal activities and eventually give in to inappropriate passion on a kitchen counter.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Safe Harbor:
Seamus barely managed not to smile. She was sneakier than she gave herself credit for being, and he liked it. “I think you’ve got a bit of a rogue bottled up in you too, sweet Joan.”
She finally looked up, and her eyes glinted with amusement. “Women have been using men’s vices against them since men discovered vice.”
“Mm-hmm.” He cracked two more eggs into the bowl. “And what did they use against them before that?”
“Why would they need to? Men were angels. Now I’m thinking they might have been a bit boring too.”
“Men have never been angels, sweetheart.”
“I suppose not.” Her pen scratched against the paper again, more idle doodles. “I’ll enjoy learning about your vices, as long as I’m numbered among them.”
His greatest vice, and he proved it by not being able to stop himself from crossing to the table to slide his fingers through her hair. “Tell me something.”
She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “Anything.”
He nuzzled her cheek and relished the scent of her. “What are your vices?”
“I don’t know.” The pen clicked against the table and her hands smoothed along his cheeks. “I never allowed myself to have any, except pride. That’s not a very fun one.”
“Mmm, I’m partial to lust, myself.”
Her lips found his ear, warm breath skating against him as she spoke. “You inspire lust in me.”
“Better than wrath.” He bent his head licked her earlobe gently.
Her breath caught on a tiny, startled noise and released on a sigh of pleasure. “You inspired a little of that too. Is it wrong to admit it makes the lust…sharper?”
“Wrong? No.” Seamus closed his teeth on her ear. “A little naughty, yes.”
That elicited a satisfyingly breathless gasp. Her fingers slipped down to curl in his shirt and her voice grew huskier. “I’ll have you know, I am never naughty.”
“No?” He couldn’t resist the soft curve of her throat, so he dropped his lips to it. “Not ever?”
“Maybe once. Or twice. I might have to concede that our antics in the bathtub last night were a little outrageous.”
Just thinking about having her under him again made his blood heat. “Outrageous enough for you to need more time to recover?”
Joan laughed as her hand edged under his shirt, her nails dragging lightly over his skin. “If you don’t stop treating me like I’m weak, we’re going to have to detour into wrath. I can feel how strongly the magic burns in you. Can’t you feel me?”
“Yes.” Her magic soaked into every pore of his body, vibrating inside him as they spoke. “But what sort of lover would I be if I didn’t concern myself over you?”
“Lover.” Her voice turned the word into a caress. Her teeth closed on his ear, mirroring the way he’d nipped at her, and pleasure shuddered up his spine.
Seamus leaned over, trapping her against the wood. “Lover.”
Joan eased her hand free and slid both up to hook under his suspenders. “I’m fine, Seamus. I’m aching for you.”
He could tell. The scent of her body, earthy and aroused, tickled his nostrils and stirred his own body. “Tell me what you want.”
She guided his suspenders down. “Everything.”
There were plenty of things he could do to her, things she might never have heard of, but would love all the same. He grasped her hips, lifted her and turned to drop her on the counter. “Lean back.”
“Bossy.” She’d donned a loose men’s shirt and a flowing skirt, claiming she wanted to be ready if they had to shift. Now she smiled wickedly as she lifted her fingers and tugged the top button of her shirt open, then the second, revealing the smooth curve of her breasts. “Do women just do whatever you tell them to?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
The third button gave way, and the shirt slipped from her shoulder. The fabric caught on her breasts, snug enough to show how tight her nipples were. “Do you like it when a woman does whatever you tell her to?”
He didn’t bother to hide his feral grin as his hand grazed her inner thigh. “Sometimes.”
Joan drew her legs together, trapping his hand, then leaned forward until her lips hovered over his. “That sounds like submission,” she whispered, every word like a teasing kiss. She licked his lower lip and laughed. “I’ve listened to the gossip. I know that giving in to our instincts can make sex more…primal.”
“You want primal?” Her shirt was like paper under his hands, and he tore the fabric free of her body, though he left it wrapped around her arms. “Say the word, sweet Joan.”
She dragged in a breath and leaned into him, pressed her breasts to his chest with a shaky moan. “What word? Primal? Please?”
He chased her back until his body was stretched out over hers. “The word…is yes.”
“Yes.” Her head fell back, and she didn’t struggle, even though she could have easily torn her arms free of the tangle of her shirt. “Yes, yes, yes—”
She wore only plain cotton panties under the voluminous skirt, and Seamus tugged at them. “What other gossip have you heard?”
Wildness filled her eyes as she watched him. “That finding a man with a clever tongue is of paramount importance.”
The cotton slid easily down her legs, and Seamus licked his lips. “You don’t say.”
“Are you going to show me w
hy?”
He wanted to, not only to drive her wild, but to put his mouth to her body and taste her. “Yes.”
She wet her lips, an adorable anticipation lighting up her face. “Right here on the counter?”
“You like the idea?”
“More than I should.”
“Says who?” He teased her by grazing his fingertips over the sensitive flesh at the apex of her thighs as he bent closer. “That society you’re always talking about?”
The sound of her shallow, strained breaths filled the kitchen as her legs inched apart in silent invitation. “I want it more than I thought possible.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” This close, he could feel the heat of her on his tongue before he even touched her. And then he did.
Her breath caught and her knees knocked into his shoulders as she let out a choked noise that mixed pleasure with surprise. She moaned, and fabric ripped a second before her fingers thrust into his hair, the tattered remains of her shirt hanging from one arm. “Seamus.”
To speak, he’d have to raise his head, and he was nowhere near ready to relinquish the warm taste of her. Not yet.
One heel dug into his back as she squirmed, tugging at his hair in time with her short, gasping moans. “This is—this is so good, so wicked.”
He turned his head and bit the inside of her thigh. “Wicked?”
She snarled and tightened her fingers in his hair as power swelled, fierce dominant magic that trembled with her pleasure even as it challenged him.
It was a sweet challenge, and one Seamus couldn’t resist. He eased her off the counter and turned her over it. He dropped a single kiss on the smooth line of her spine and held her hips still. “Say yes.”
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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