by Zoey Thames
Maggie Marsh was at the Bayside Club for one reason and one reason only: to mate. As a jaguar shifter, and worse, jaguar royalty, she's kept on a very tight leash. Particularly since her parents are trying to arrange a royal match. But she's in heat—and the burning, throbbing need to find someone to mate with is too powerful to resist. So when the sexy wolf shifter plows into her and nearly knocks her over, she can't believe her luck. Logan Kane is tall, gorgeous, and so sexy she's dripping with desire. She's determined to have him, until she meets the second wolf of the evening, the charming Matthew Mason, a private investigator who informs her that Logan Kane is more than he appears.
Matthew's had a crush on Logan since their school days. But Matthew's not a high-ranking wolf, and Logan's father was the alpha—until Logan's brother Zane killed him and usurped control of the pack. A duty that should have fallen to Logan. There's no chance a should-be alpha would pay a bit of attention to someone like Matthew. But he has other fantasies besides those involving Logan—fantasies of being with a woman, fantasies of being with a cat shifter. So as the beautiful, black haired jaguar puts the moves on him, he's not about to turn her down.
Logan wants nothing to do with being the alpha or dealing with pack politics. He just wants to leave the country to escape the half million dollar bounty Zane has placed on his head—for his delivery to Zane, dead or alive. But when Matthew's partner winds up dead in the parking lot, and somebody starts shooting, it becomes clear that Maggie and Matthew have made themselves targets as well. Thrown together to escape Zane's assassins, Maggie begins to realize the three of them have something else in common—their animals have all claimed each other as mates. A ménage relationship would be complicated enough, but mixing wolves and cats? The threeway sex is so hot, she doesn't care that they're wolves. And Matthew can't believe he's finally with Logan. But when things go sideways and Logan has to step up and take control, he teaches Maggie why even a jaguar princess must obey her alpha, and teaches her that a good spanking can be oh, so good...
Reader note: contains MMF ménage, including male male love, spanking, and hot romance elements intended for adults
And Bailey Makes Three
Billionaire Bad Boys Book One
Lea Cruz
A threesome with two hot guys might be just the break she needed…
Bailey Castillo is having a horrible Halloween. First, she was fired from her job for no reason by her boss, Doug “the Douchebag” Duchene. Then her friend Ana and her hook-up ditched her at Club Estrella, the exclusive nightclub on Miami’s swanky South Beach, leaving the big, beautiful Bailey all alone in her Cat Woman costume with no one to dance with and nothing to do. And now she’s drawn the attention of the creepy guy in the cheesy Batman suit, who won’t take no for an answer.
That’s when she hears the deep, sexy voice behind her—“There you are, precioso mio, I’m sorry I’m late…”—and turns around to face the hottest, sexiest, biggest version of the Terminator she’d ever seen. What else was she supposed to do but reach up and kiss him? And when she can’t quite pull her lips from his, and he doesn’t pull away either, it isn’t as if she can help it. After all, he was rescuing her from Batman. It would be ungrateful not to let him finish his rescue…
But the Terminator—the hot, Latino Diego Rio—wasn’t alone. He was there with Noah Wilson, the sexy, blonde male-model type, and the vibes they’re sending out suggest they want her. Both of them. Together. Bailey’s never had a threesome before, but after the day she’s had, a ménage a trois with the gorgeous blonde limo driver and his sexy Cuban lover might just be the universe’s way of making it up to her. But when they take her home to the palatial penthouse condo on the beach, Bailey realizes things might not be what they seem, and her two bad-boy lovers might not be who she thinks they are. But how can she think about all that when the sex is just so good…?
Reader note: contains m/m/f ménage elements, BBW and billionaires, interracial/multicultural romance, and male male love
The Naked Neighbor
L. C. Carey
How can a man work when his sexy neighbor is always naked?
Quaid Marshall's life has hit rock bottom. He's lost the most recent of his dead-end jobs, has been evicted from his apartment, and if not for the charity of his sister, he'd be living under the overpass in a cardboard box. Instead, she's loaned him the use of her Smoky Mountain ski cabin in the woods of North Carolina so he can finish the screenplay he's been avoiding finishing for two years. Since the day he drove the car into that tree, killing his fiancé, David. The day Quaid's life went to hell.
With nothing left to lose, Quaid's determined to finish the stupid screenplay and enter it in the ScreenWay Magazine contest, with its $25,000 grand prize. He knows it's stupid to rely on a contest for income, but his bossy baby sister insists he try, and she's the one paying the bills…
But it isn't going well. His sister neglected to tell him about the next-door neighbor…the incredibly hot, incredibly tall, incredibly buff next-door neighbor…the one who likes to sunbathe in the raw. The one with the incredible package nestled in neatly trimmed dark curls. How the hell was Quaid supposed to write a horror script when all he could think of was the sexy opening of a romantic comedy? And how the hell was he supposed to look himself in the eye every morning in the mirror when he felt so disloyal to David's memory?
The Dragon Hunter
A. C. Fox
Kill the dragon, or rescue his heart?
Rycard Serod's band of hunters is in dire straits. Deep in the borderlands overrun with plague, starvation, and the brutal Boa Visk armies, the hunters are out of money, out of food, and half a continent away from their winter camp, with storms close on their heels. Their only chance of survival is the bounty Rycard has accepted, the largest they've ever been offered. The downside—they'll be working for the Boa Visk. The other downside—they'll be hunting a dragon. Luckily, they don't have to kill the dragon. Just bring him back alive in all his fire-breathing, magic-wielding glory to the Boa Visk, who want him for their own dark purposes. But when Rycard finally has the dragon in his sights, he begins to question his decision. The dragon's not only a powerful beast, he can transform into a man—a beautiful, wise, honorable man, who makes Rycard's war-weary heart long for the balm of the dragon's touch.
Vorgon Graydalon will do anything to keep the humans of his valley safe, even if it means war with the Boa Visk. But the unexpected arrival of a band of hunters has endangered everything—his freedom, his people, and even his own kind, hidden away on their remote island far from the Boa Visk threat. He can't understand why Rycard, who claims to hunt monsters, would take Boa Visk gold to hunt him, the one creature who protects the humans. But when Rycard forces him to reveal his secret and shift into human form, Vorgon cannot refuse. There is too much at stake. And the way Rycard looks at him makes something wild and primitive awaken in Vorgon's heart. He's not sure if the dragon hunter will be the key to his salvation, or the key to his destruction, and that of all his kind. But after a night in the hunter's embrace, he's powerless to walk away...
Excerpt from Curves for Fighters by Zoey Thames
CHAPTER ONE
Ruth Hadley had always hated her name. Ever since she’d been old enough to know what a Baby Ruth candy bar was, she’d loathed being called Ruth. There’d even been two other girls at her grade school with the name Ruth when she’d been growing up in eastern Oklahoma, but at least in Muskogee, no one had blinked at the name. Here in ritzy and sophisticated New York City, Ruth was about as strange a name as Cleopatra. In fact, she’d much rather have the name Cleopatra. No one heard the name Ruth and thought to themselves, “Now there’s someone who sounds sexy and elegant.”
Oh well, maybe she was being unreasonably hard on herself tonight. As usual. Better to focus on her job than on whether or not her mama would whup her with a dishtowel if Ruth legally changed her given name. Besides, Ruth had enough on her plate without worrying about something she couldn’t
change at the moment. She was driving a black stretch Mercedes-Benz S-Class limousine with all the latest bells and whistles for Mirage Confidential Limo Service. Tonight she had a very important client to drive around the city that never slept. The New York city lights flooded the inside of the car, so even though it was technically nighttime, she felt as if she were in some kind of brilliant world filled with colorful, warm illumination. She glanced at her GPS instructions again and then at the service order on the computer terminal mounted on the dash.
The dispatch order had her picking up a high profile VIP from Third Avenue in the Bronx. At first she’d thought it must be a mistake, because that area was a little rough, and it seemed strange that an extremely rich client would be wandering around a place so far from the glitz and glitter of Broadway. But the onboard computer refused to admit ever being wrong, and dispatch had been adamant. So here she was.
She guided the luxury limo down the two-lane street, glancing from side to side as she went, searching for a sign that said Triago Mixed Martial Arts Gym and Academy. Mostly she spotted lots of liquor stores with security bars on the windows, a handful of check-into-cash places, and small convenience stores with Bud Light neon signs and promises of cheap cigarettes. There were tenement houses and Laundromats. Steam seeped from the gutters and from vents in the manhole covers. Some unsavory types were hanging out on corners or lounging against storefronts. They turned their heads to watch her as she drove past, unnerving her. The limo was wildly out of place in a neighborhood like this.
Definitely not the best part of town. Again, really not a place she’d expect to find the client—a billionaire werewolf tech mogul by the name of Brian Barrington—cavorting around. She snorted at the word. The last client she’d driven had been a bear shifter from Moscow, and he had definitely loved to cavort through the clubs and wild parties of New York’s nightlife.
The pleasant GPS voice informed her she was in the area and assured her she should be seeing the gym at any moment, but she had yet to spot it. Maybe the pickup instructions were wrong. That was rare, especially with how careful Mirage Confidential Limo Service was, dealing with high-end, superrich, paranormal figures in business and entertainment and politics, but occasionally mistakes happened. She continued to scan the street numbers on the buildings as she drove, not fully trusting the GPS computer. She was close now…
Finally she found it just as the GPS ecstatically told her she was arriving at her destination. Triago Mixed Martial Arts Gym and Academy was a medium-size building of gray brick, marked here and there by graffiti, and with black iron bars on the windows. She got lucky and the gods of New York traffic blessed her, having saved an empty swath of street at the curb big enough for her to park in front of the place. She guided the limo to the curb without touching the rims against the cement. She could see men inside the gym working at heavy bags, sparring, or shadowboxing. In the far back there were even a couple of full-size fighting rings.
God, there were few things she enjoyed more than watching a bunch of half naked men pound the ever-loving crap out of a heavy bag. It was so raw, so primal. The force. The intensity. The brute power of it. She stared at their sweaty, muscular bodies and had to remind herself not to drool. Reminder or no, she was helpless to stop her body’s reaction to all the muscles and brute energy. That inner heat, that secret ache between her legs, grew more intense, hazing her brain with its need. Well, this would all be perfect fodder for a marathon session with her favorite vibrator later on. Sad to say, right now her love life was about as neglected as the buildings on this street.
There was no sign of the client waiting outside for his pickup, which was fortunate. It meant she wasn’t late. Usually she arrived at least fifteen minutes early, just to be safe and per company policy, but she always worried that someday New York traffic would ensnare her and she’d keep a VIP client waiting. That would be exceedingly bad. Human or paranormals, VIPs didn’t always have a lot of patience. But the alphas were especially demanding, and those made up the majority of the clientele.
She lifted her limo’s radio receiver and called Mandy, who was on dispatch tonight. “Hey, Mandy. This is Ruth. I’m at the location. No sign of the client. Are you sure this is the right place?” She would never dream of using a client’s name over the radio. Their company’s frequency was encrypted, but they were also known for utmost discretion. At that meant radio discipline at all times. No name-dropping. No taking selfies with the client and posting it on social media, and so on.
“Ruth, I’m looking at my screen right now and you’re at the right place. We have a note here from the client. It says if you’re early or they are running late, you should feel free to go inside.”
“I don’t know… This looks like a bad neighborhood to leave the limo unattended.”
“Girl, you are parked in front of a MMA gym. Who in their right mind is gonna mess with those guys?”
Ruth laughed. “I guess that makes some sense.”
“You know me, I got so much sense it’s leaking out everywhere. Now I suggest you head on inside and watch all those beefy men punch things and get yourself a little testosterone contact high, you hear me?”
She couldn’t help her grin. “I hear you. Heading inside now.”
Ruth had a publicity photo of the client on computer file, so she’d be able to identify him on sight. He was a very special VIP indeed. The billionaire Brian Barrington. The tech mogul was both one of the world’s foremost philanthropists and a lead spokesperson for the Society of American Shifters. He was also the alpha wolf for the Empire City Pack right here in New York.
She turned on the overhead light and glanced at the photo again. Brian Barrington was a gorgeous piece of man meat, that was for sure. Chiseled jaw. Intense blue eyes. Hair so blond it might have been white. The broad shoulders filling a suit that probably cost more than most cars also hinted at a very muscular build. Yum. Yum. Yummy. In fact, she might just have to drop him into the starring role of her next late-night sex fantasy.
Still…what was a guy as handsome, rich, and sophisticated as Mr. Barrington doing at a rundown fight club like this? She could imagine him in a high-end workout center with all the latest training gadgets and personal coaches to guide his training, but this place? Maybe he owned the gym…as a tax write-off or something. Or perhaps this was more philanthropy. A community outreach.
Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t her place to ask questions. Or be curious. She certainly couldn’t afford to lose this job either. Not if she had any hope of every attending NYU business school again… This paid far more than waitressing, and the late night hours meant that when she started taking classes again, she could go during the day. So she couldn’t chance screwing this up. Even a little.
She got out of the limo, locked it, and set the alarm. Before heading into the gym, she checked her uniform in the tinted limo glass and adjusted her black driver cap, then she flicked a piece of lint from her uniform coat. Perfect. She might not be as slim as those models traipsing along the fashion runways, but she did have curves enough that filled out her uniform. Yes, she was curvy—what was it they said these days? A big, beautiful woman. She had long ago stopped torturing herself into believing a woman had to look stick-thin to be beautiful. Her mama had always told her that beauty came through the eyes, shining through like a lighthouse beam. Ruth didn’t know if that was true or not, but she did know that her curvy body and generous bust still attracted many a male’s gaze. In fact, as sharp as her uniform happened to be, the uniform shirt was a little tight across the chest…although she didn’t suppose any of the men here would mind.
Since she’d been invited to come inside and wait, she took Mr. Barrington up on the offer. She pushed through the glass front door and a little bell jangled. A few heads turned as men glanced her way. Ruth focused on keeping her calm, professional demeanor as she glanced from man to man, searching for Mr. Brian Barrington. She resisted the urge to pull at her collar. It was a little hot and
stuffy in here, even though the fans were running full blast. So many men putting off so much heat. She actually felt a bit lightheaded. The grunts and smacks and heavy breathing all around her certainly raised her internal temperature more than a little.
At first she couldn’t spot the client as she moved deeper into the gym, passing men working the heavy bags or sparring or landing kicks and punches on pads held by a partner. But as she looked toward the far end of the gym, she finally saw him.
And her knees went weak.
Mr. Brian Barrington was wearing nothing but black silk boxer shorts, black protective headgear, and a pair of black fighter gloves. His body was even more impressive than she’d imagined. Every ridge of hard muscle stood out in clear definition. His perfectly sculpted shoulders trailed down to bulging biceps. His stomach was the poster child for the concept of washboard abdominals. His legs were ripped with heavy muscle that flexed as he moved about the ring. His body was covered in sweat and glistening in the gym’s overhead lighting.
Lord help her now.
The man he was sparring with was just as impressive though. He had short, dark hair and dark eyes, looking Mediterranean—maybe Italian. He was clean-shaven, but sported a bit of five o’clock shadow at this time of night. His sparring gear was bright red. He was shorter than Brian but a little stockier, again with plenty of well-defined muscle on his frame. And he had the sexiest patch of dark hair on his chest.
She had a fleeting thought, wishing this were ancient Greece where the men fought completely naked. She didn’t think she could handle that though. She might just spontaneously combust at the sight.
When she reached the ring, she stopped short, not wanting to distract the two men as they battled. But she also wanted to be close enough to see—make that drool—over them.
