by Jodi Redford
Plans were being made to overhaul the tenement rows with new buildings. In the meantime, they were being cleaned up to make the area more habitable and pleasant. The few times she’d gone with Teague to his old safe house—which was now converted into his office—she’d been surprised by the amount of progress that’d already been made.
Then there was her and Teague. The ordeal they’d shared had cemented their bond. They rarely spent a day apart. The chemistry between them was as electrical as ever. Literally. Teague continued to give her lessons—some of them even out of bed—and her powers were growing more and more every day. Thanks to her previous admissions of love, it’d become super easy to say those three words to him. After slipping three weeks ago and repeating them back to her, he’d gotten into a regular habit of saying he loved her too. Despite hearing it so much, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to or tired of it.
There were times when she still worried about her mixed DNA and the uncertainty over the Shadow substance that may or may not exist inside her. Still, she’d lived with all of the above this long. She must be doing something right.
Miles plucked a small, long box from the top of the container he’d brought up. Grinning, he carried it to the couch and handed it to Ruby. “It’s a housewarming gift from us.”
She tore her gaze from Miles and glanced at Sabby and Joe. “Really? You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, we did. Open it.”
Curiosity getting the better of her, she untied the velvet ribbon and removed the lid. Frowning, she lifted one of the cards tucked inside. “What’s this?”
“Our business cards. Read it.”
Holding the laminated card closer, she inspected the print. “Breaking bad—one evil son of a bitch at a time.” She coughed into her fist. “Uh…okay.”
Joe gave her a shy smile. “Do you like it? I’m the one who came up with the slogan.”
“Slogan?” Teague prodded.
“Yeah, for Superheroes Unlimited.” Sabby grinned. “Kicks ass, eh?”
Teague tweaked the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you haven’t cooked up a cockamamie idea of the five of us starting a superhero business together.”
The guys nodded in unison, and Teague groaned. She cocked her head to the side and let the notion percolate a little. “Actually, I love the idea. And the slogan.”
She and the guys stared at Teague until he dropped his head forward with a defeated exhale. His arm curved around her waist, and he hugged her to his side. “You’re going to owe me a lot of cat-suit stripteases for this one.”
“Deal.” She leaned in and kissed him, putting extra heat in her promise. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything made perfect sense. Fate had given her a gift, one that would benefit many. She’d set out to honor her mother’s legacy, and ended picking up the baton in the fight for justice.
With good on their side, there was no damn way evil stood a chance.
About the Author
At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick-figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven’t improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat.
She has won numerous contests, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star.
When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality-television shows.
Currently residing in Michigan with her husband and overgrown lapdog, she is a member of RWA national and Greater Detroit Romance Writers of America.
She loves to hear from readers. You can email her at [email protected] and visit her online at www.jodiredford.com.
Look for these titles by Jodi Redford
Now Available:
Taking Liberty
Light My Fire
Vanessa Unveiled
The Naughty List
Cat Scratch Fever
That Old Black Magic
That Voodoo You Do
The Seven Year Witch
Maximum Witch
Getting Familiar With Your Demon
Thieves of Aurion
Lover Enslaved
She could resist this bad boy…if he wasn’t so darned good at it.
Superlovin’
© 2012 Vivi Andrews
A Midnight Justice Story
Darla Powers, a.k.a. DynaGirl, is the Jessica Rabbit of crime fighters, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy finding a date. When her latest ex opines she’s not helpless enough to make him feel manly, she flies off to take out her romantic frustrations on a villain dumb enough to pick tonight to break into a secret government vault.
Lucien Wroth’s father may be a famous supervillain, but Lucien doesn’t see himself as a bad guy. Just one determined to free his baby sister from a supercriminal’s clutches. He’s this close to getting his hands on a vital set of schematics when one sultry superheroine catches him elbow-deep in a top-secret safe.
Darla is horrified when Lucien’s pretty face—and bulging muscles—distract her enough to let him get away. No one escapes DynaGirl. But somewhere along the way to getting revenge for her public humiliation, she and Lucien become uneasy allies…resisting an all-too-easy attraction. Suddenly she suspects the perfect man for a good girl just might be a very bad boy.
Warning: This book contains heroes, villains, mind-games, epic battles, bustiers, leather, and an infamous “Women of the Cape” Maxim photo spread.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Superlovin’:
“You’ll never…escape,” she declared breathlessly, looking rather adorably determined laid out flat on the cement with rubble in her hair.
He would’ve laughed if he could spare the oxygen. “You don’t know how to…admit defeat, do you?” He couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. Deluded though it may be.
“What makes you…think I’m…defeated?”
“The inability to get a full sentence out without gulping for air is a tell, sweetheart,” he grunted, barely getting the sentence out himself without taking a gulp.
“I’d like to see you fly across the city twice in an hour, one of those times carrying a two-ton delinquent.”
He arched a brow. “I’m a big boy, but I’m not quite that big, princess.”
Her eyes narrowed at the suggestive lilt in his voice, pretty mouth pursing. “I was talking about the weight of your ego.”
“Then you must be constantly exhausted. How do you manage to lift yours, even with the superstrength?”
She made a face at him. The darling of the press, always poised and perfect, crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Which, perversely, just made him want to kiss her.
Not a bad idea, actually.
He needed something to distract her at the right moment, and nothing was likely to unsettle the Powers Princess more than one of the unwashed masses daring to lay his lips on her. And, yeah, he was a guy, so he’d pretty much wanted to lay one on her since she’d posed for Maxim’s Women of the Cape issue. He’d dreamt about that magazine—dark, steamy, grinding, Technicolor dreams with Miss Goody Two Shoes as their very naughty star. Those pillowy lips were an open invitation, far too wicked for someone so sanctimoniously pure.
Sadly, DynaGirl didn’t seem to be in the mood to play.
“What did you take?” she demanded. The very proper Miss Powers was like a freaking terrier when she set her mind to something. She shoved hard on his shoulder, rolling them over so she knelt straddling his stomach. He let her be on top. For now. Her gaze flicked down his body, searching for a spot he could’ve stashed the papers. “What did you go back for?”
Lucien kept half an ear out for the sound of the next train and conjured up a lazy grin. He let his gaze linger on the way the dark, stretchy fabric of her supersuit cupped the curve of her breasts. “Would you like to frisk me? Cuz I know I’d like it.”
“Knock it off.
You’re caught. Give it up.”
“I’m caught, am I? How are you planning to get me back to that lovely holding cell? Flying didn’t work out so well for you last time.”
She reached to the belt on her hip, pulled out a phone, swiped a thumb across the touchpad without looking and held it up to her ear with a smugly triumphant smirk. A smirk which faded as she pulled it away from her ear to glare at the uncooperative device.
“No service?” he purred.
Thank God for the crappy reception of subway tunnels. His abilities were too far blown to handle the cavalry right now.
“I’ll fly you there if I have to,” DynaGirl declared, but the first waver of doubt edged her tone.
Supers could do superhuman things—hence the name—but there was only so far they could push themselves before they crashed with a power hangover that would bring the gods to their knees. Lucien was inches from his own breaking point and, from the tremor in her voice, it sounded like his tenacious little sex kitten of a nemesis was right there with him.
Which meant she was vulnerable. He just needed one more sprint. He could last a few more seconds before his brain exploded into white-hot agony. He had to. For Mirabelle.
He heard the distant electrical whine of a train coming down the tracks. Three minutes, give or take…
Lucien let the icy-hot pain starting to spike in his temples show on his face. “I could come quietly,” he said, making his voice tight with strain. “For a price.”
“I don’t negotiate with supervillains.”
“Not even for my surrender? My complete surrender.”
Interest lit her up-tilted emerald eyes, but her jaw remained clenched in an unyielding line. “No deals. I won’t bribe you to play nice when you’ve already lost.”
“But all I wanted was a kiss.”
She went motionless above him, as if she’d forgotten the need to breathe.
“One little kiss,” he purred. “And I’ll go meekly to my jail cell. No tricks. No trouble.”
He couldn’t read her expression. Something odd and almost hopeful colored the suspicion in her gaze. She hesitated. The train rattled closer. Her fingers eased their death grip on his hair.
“Why?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a shot at the great Darla Powers. Who hasn’t? That Maxim spread changed my life.”
Her eyes darkened. “That damn magazine—”
“Hey, don’t damn that magazine. I could compose sonnets to that magazine. Especially your issue. I think you single-handedly launched a generation of twelve-year-old boys into puberty with that spread.” The picture had become a cultural icon. Darla Powers, the super answer to Marilyn Monroe. “Tell me you still have the bustier and I’ll die happy.”
She blushed. “That is none of your business.”
Dear God, she still has it. Unwholesome interest stirred below Lucien’s belt. He’d been joking, but now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Her incredible figure overflowing the snug black lace with a shimmering red D curled under one breast in a parody of her suit. Maybe she still wore it. Maybe she put it on for the schmuck boyfriend who’d let her walk out on their date. Jealousy gave his gut an ugly twist, but he ignored it. She wasn’t with her schmuck boyfriend now.
“One kiss,” he said, the words coming out as more of a demand than he’d intended, his voice so dark and hungry he barely recognized it. “One kiss and I’ll do whatever you want.”
The words were supposed to be a lie, but at the moment he almost believed them himself. Darla Powers was a woman who could own a man’s soul if she put her mind to it. If she could let herself be that bad…
She leaned over him, and he sank his hand into the curls at the base of her skull. “C’mon, princess,” he coaxed, his gaze locked on her pillowy lips. “Even good girls get to be bad sometimes.”
She went rigid in his arms. “No. We don’t.”
The train was nearly there now. Ten seconds… Darla began to resist his hold, but Lucien had run out of time for persuasion. Now or never.
He sat up and twisted abruptly, using a pulse of superspeed to get her sprawled on her back before she realized negotiations were over. He caught her startled gasp on his lips.
The kiss was a sneak attack—quick and fierce and designed to startle and unsettle her. It wasn’t supposed to sear across his nerve endings with unexpected heat. He wasn’t supposed to be tempted to fall into the taste of her and abandon his will to fight. Soft, warm, luscious—the definition of a dangerous woman.
Her hands fell away from his hair, shoving at his shoulders without any real strength as she made the most deliciously wanton noise in her throat.
In a different world, he would stay here and finish what they’d started, explore this incendiary chemistry, coax that sound from her again and again. But she was still a hero and he’d long since been cast in the villain role. If he wanted any future for his sister, he couldn’t waste time playing doctor with DynaGirl.
The first train car thundered into the abandoned station.
He threw himself off her. “Sorry, princess.” The last of his reserves went into a surge of superspeed as he leapt onto the tracks and sprinted down the tunnel in front of the engine. The racing train sealed the tunnel entrance behind him before DynaGirl could gather herself to follow.
He didn’t have time to thrill at the victory of escape. He was too busy trying to maintain his speed until he reached the next platform so he didn’t end up a bloody smear on the tracks.
Lucien ran, his head slowly exploding, the stolen papers crinkling in his pocket with the sound of success, Darla’s taste still sweet on his lips.
In a world of darkness, she is his light.
Blade of Moonlight
© 2012 Kimberly Dean
A Midnight Justice Story
It’s a dark and stormy night, and Luna Masters is in trouble. Buttoned-up court reporter by day, by night she fights crime as Luminescence, drawing power from the moon. No moon, no power…and she’s about to pay with her life.
As her consciousness dims, a man steps from the shadows. But he’s no savior. It’s Scythe, a villain whose reputation for evil is legend. When she awakens, at first she’s surprised to be alive. Then enraged to find herself tied to his bed. Naked.
Scythe is livid. A minor superhero like Luna has no business on his turf, and he plans to enjoy administering punishment, Yet somewhere in the night, pain turns into pleasure…then into something wicked and sexy that shakes them both to the core.
Though Scythe warns her away, Luna’s passion for justice draws her back into the dark, to her masked lover’s side. For good, or evil? Only the dawn will tell…
Warning: Pow! In the clash of good versus evil, villains don’t play nicely. Bam! When captured, superheroines often get tied up. Kablooie! Hot sex may cause mayhem with your e-reader.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Blade of Moonlight:
“You reflect the moon’s light, don’t you, Luminescence?”
No, that wasn’t it, but he was close. She was one with the moon. As it behaved, so did she, but he could never know that about her.
His fingers slid down her breastbone again, and her breaths hitched when he traced the line of the sheet, dangerously close to her nipples. He watched the soft material tent, knowing what he was doing to her. Their gazes connected but, still, she refused to give him anything.
He turned to the hardwood chair beside the bed. She hadn’t even noticed it until he lifted a scrap of material. The bra of her costume dangled from his finger. Her clothes!
His jaw hardened as he toyed with the skimpy top. “That’s why you run around the city in barely more than a bikini, so you can use your power to its full potential. More skin equals more light.”
Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth as she struggled not to say anything. He was getting too close to the truth. Her costume wasn’t so much of a style choice, but a necessity. Under a full moon, she could bring down
criminals with only her face and her hands bare. But on a night like this—
Her face. Her head whipped to the side, and she searched the chair, hoping against hope. Her stomach dropped when she spotted her mask draped across its high back. The strip of black material might cover only her eyes, but it had protected her identity. Until now.
He’d seen her face.
He dropped the bikini top and picked up the black bottoms. They were made of a synthetic material, giving her the lightness and maneuverability of spandex, but the toughness of leather. Using both hands, he stretched them, watching them pull shorter to compensate, and shook his head in a strange combination of anger and disgust.
And undisguised interest.
“And more skin equals more skin. That helps rattle the boys, too, doesn’t it?” His head cocked. “What if you’re going up against a villainess?”
Some of them were distracted, too, but she wasn’t going to go there. Luna glared at him belligerently. Identify him. He knew what she looked like, right down to the birthmark on her right hip. He’d stripped her of everything she had. She had to find a way to expose him.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to go on. He was big, built and sexy. Her thoughts stalled. She shouldn’t find him attractive—not with the situation he’d put her in—but she did. Adrenaline and pheromones were creating a dangerous chemistry. She had to be careful or she’d get pulled into the reaction.
