Pleasure grew in a conflagration of sensations. Each thrust, each lick, each pinch nudged her closer to orgasm until it was like a circle of never-ending delight. Tate came first, his semen squirting down her throat. Sax’s strokes increased in pace and became erratic. After one hard shove into her, he stilled, and her channel clenched his hard length.
Sax seemed to realize she hadn’t climaxed yet, and he pulled back, thrusting back into her and using his fingers to brush over her clit in the manner she liked. The first pulses of pleasure snapped at her as Tate kissed her and Ran gave a shout. She came in a hard burst of pleasure, the spasms going on for long seconds, prolonged by Sax’s careful caresses.
When she came down, they were entangled in a sweaty and messy embrace, and she’d never felt better.
“Good job organizing our engagement boink,” she told Ran. “That was perfect.”
Tate kissed her while Sax pulled away to remove the condom. Ran kissed her next and Sax claimed the third kiss.
“I’ll get a warm cloth,” Ran said.
Replete and so happy she felt like bursting, Kendall glanced down her body. She smiled at Tate and Sax and at Ran when he returned and wiped her breasts clean.
Life was like sex. Messy and exciting and challenging. But it was also full of love and good men. Her men. It was an adventure, and she couldn’t wait to step into the future with these wonderful men at her side.
Thank you for reading Kendall’s Mates. Did you enjoy Kendall’s romance with the Hallsten brothers? If so, please consider leaving a review at your favorite online bookstore or at Goodreads or Bookbub. A review would make my day!
Please turn the page for an excerpt from Renee’s Mates, the next book in the Churchill Polar Bear series plus an excerpt from Blood Moon Dragon, a dragon shifter romance.
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Happy reading
Shelley
Excerpt – Renee’s Mates
Book 3 in the Churchill Polar Bear series
Renee James stalked down the broad Kelsey Avenue in Churchill, Canada. She’d worked all day, flying tourists over the tundra. The object—polar bears. With the growing number of tourists in town for the beginning of the polar bear season, she’d flown full loads, getting as much pleasure from seeing the big predators as her passengers. Now, she was off work and not due to fly her next trip until tomorrow morning, weather permitting.
Most people drank to forget. Or they did drugs. Renee loved her helicopters, rejoiced in her job and refused to do anything to jeopardize her flying. Each time she zipped through the sky—whether it was taking a load of tourists or running freight or fighting forest fires, she reveled in the sense of freedom. Flying offered her control and happiness—the freedom she no longer experienced while earthbound.
No drinking to forget. No drugs to zone out, which left sex.
She excelled at sex, enjoyed it immensely, and while she was no stunner in the looks department, she did all right with the tourists who flocked to Churchill during the summer to see the beluga whales or during the winter to view the polar bears in their natural territory. She satisfied the men with a vacation hook-up. In return, she received uncomplicated company and pleasure to drive away the memories that stalked her during the hours of darkness.
Her boots struck with precise steps on the icy gravel edges of the road while her gaze swiveled back and forth, taking in the scenery. A remnant from her army days, and not a bad habit to have in Churchill. Although the polar bear patrol took care of most of the bears before they entered town—either scaring them off or trapping and placing them in polar bear jail—it never hurt to keep alert. Polar bears were powerful animals, and at this time of the year, they were hungry. Most hadn’t eaten for eight months, and Renee didn’t intend to become any creature’s next dinner.
A cool breeze tugged her hair, nipped at her nose and she wrapped her padded navy-blue jacket around her chest. She walked past the charred and blackened remains of Gypsy’s and thought longingly of their donuts. The fire had happened so fast not even the volunteer fire fighters had time to arrive before the Churchill landmark was too far gone to save.
Instead of heading for the bar favored by the locals. Renee stomped the faint coating of ice from her boots and opened the door to a restaurant that catered to tour groups. The savory tang of roasting meat floated to her, and her stomach offered a sharp protest. It was early still, but she’d forgotten to pack lunch and her midday meal had comprised one muesli bar. She’d grab a steak or maybe that was roast chicken she could smell. Her grumbling belly would appreciate anything she fed it.
Renee grabbed a menu from the waitress. A new but bubbly stranger to Churchill, she bore the Australian accent common to many of the workers. Renee scanned the woman and the tension that had slipped into her muscles, eased.
“I’ll take the corner table. Is that okay?” Renee asked.
“No problem. We’ve put reserved signs on the tables for the tour parties. Any table without a reserve sign is fair game. Can I bring you something to drink?”
Renee started to say she’d have a soda, but at the last moment, changed her mind. She had to remember to change things up and not revert to old habits all the time. “A glass of house white wine is fine.”
“All righty then,” the waitress chirped. “I’ll be with you in a minute to take your order.”
Renee watched the woman sashay off. She couldn’t be much younger than her, yet Renee felt immeasurably older. Death and danger did that to a girl.
By the time Renee scanned the menu and the special’s board, the waitress arrived with her drink and a basket of bread rolls and butter.
“What are you having tonight?”
“I’ll take the roast dinner,” Renee said.
Cheerful chatter from the entrance announced the first tour group. Renee’s gaze ran over the different faces, both male and female. Her pulse bumped up a notch, and she forced herself to take a slow breath and reach for calm. She’d taken every precaution. Once she’d closed her social media accounts and left California, the constant stream of threats and abuse had ceased.
Hunter had helped her make a plan. Tears blurred her eyes for an instant, and she blinked hard, annoyed for letting emotion get to her. Emotion wouldn’t keep her alive. No, emotion would more likely get her killed.
Aware she rode a narrow precipice—a balance between safety and danger—in her search for a bed partner to drive away the memories, she scanned faces. Mentally, she rejected men who wore wedding rings or accompanied another woman. No one in this group then.
The waitress arrived with Renee’s meal, and her stomach growled.
“Someone is hungry,” the waitress chirped.
Renee forced a smile of the sheepish variety. “I missed lunch.” It was hard not to like the bubbly redhead with her down under twang. With Hunter gone, loneliness filled her days. Another reason to find a man to share her bed. A warm body to chase away the pain of loss.
“Well, enjoy!” The waitress swished off to chat with the new arrivals.
Renee cut a piece of chicken and shoved it in her mouth. She moaned with pleasure on eating the first bite, and while her stomach still rumbled, to her it sounded marginally happier. Renee applied herself to her meal, appreciating the hot food. Although she mostly ate at home to save money in case she needed to disappear in a hurry, she wasn’t much of a cook.
More tour parties appeared in the dining room and took their seats. Renee spotted a few possibilities but soon rejected them. She pushed her plate away and finished her wine. What a bust. She might as well head for the bar and drink her usual ginger ale before heading home.
As a last resort she had several audio books. Mysteries and thrillers were her thing. Although it made little sense, something about immersing herself in other people’s dramas helped her to forget her problems.
Renee paid for her meal in cash, left the waitres
s a tip and departed the dining room. Just as she exited the building, she noticed a local taxi pull up at the Tundra Inn. Four men climbed from the vehicle, all big with black hair. They were enough alike for her assume they were family. Brothers. Although each wore jeans, coats and boots—casual clothes—something about their manner screamed money and privilege. Men used to issuing orders and expecting instant obedience. Alpha males.
A sigh escaped Renee. Not a man she wanted to tangle with. She’d met enough of those type of men during her years in the army. They were pretty but way too much trouble for a casual fling…
Has Renee Made The Right Decision? Learn more here.
Excerpt – Blood Moon Dragon
Book 2 in the Dragon Investigators series
Summer, early January, South Auckland, New Zealand
“I want you-ou to show me the way!” Cassandra Miller-Pope, Cassie for short, beat her palms on the steering wheel of the in-your-face red SUV and cast a sideways wink at her long-term friend Emma Montrose.
Their grins ricocheted off each other, toothy and comfortable and perfect, as Cassie sped along hedge-lined country roads. The city of Auckland was cosmopolitan these days, but the proximity of true countryside never failed to astonish her. And now, she owned a slice of that green herself.
“I’m so glad you could join me.” Cassie pressed her prescription glasses up her nose, mentally high-fiving her transition lenses that had battled the glare and won. After staying away for so long, she’d forgotten the intensity of the New Zealand sun.
“I’m thrilled you’re here, even if it is for merely a month.”
“Me too. Letters and emails aren’t the same as an in-person visit.” Her good cheer took a nosedive. “I wish I could stay longer. With the business and Kevin…” She lowered her speed to pass a horse and rider and wished she could slow her life in the same way. “It was difficult carving out a month in the schedule Kevin wants to set.” A problem because suddenly, her enthusiasm had waned for her singing, her upcoming year, her life. “I’m not certain of the farm cottage condition since no one has lived in the place for months. Not since Grandad died.”
“Probably full of rodents. Mummy mouse and Daddy mouse and groups of baby mice.” Emma tightened the black-and-red scarf tying back her sun-kissed brown hair. Curls rippled through the strands now that it was longer, highlighting her friend’s oval face and pursed lips.
“Ugh! Don’t tell me that.” Cassie overtook a pack of cyclists, sleek and trim in their colorful cycling gear. Tight Lycra. Not anything she’d consider wearing with her determined—overweight, according to her mother—curves. In her peripheral vision, she caught a flash of Emma’s white teeth, the twinkling I-got-ya-good blue eyes. “Oh, you’re winding me up.”
“Can you feel the key in your back?”
“Yes.” Cassie spoke crisply, broadcasting affront in a perfect mirror of her mom’s lectures. “Don’t you remember I’m a famous country star? You can’t tease me.”
“Huh!” Emma wrinkled her nose. “Hate to burst your bubble but you’re famous in the US. In New Zealand, you’re plain Cassie.”
A groan—half-laugh, half-despair—rasped her throat before it emerged, victorious and loud. “Don’t remind me. Kevin keeps telling me to record a pop crossover song, that other artists are doing well jumping genres, and I’m missing the proverbial bus. But the truth is I kinda like being anonymous at home. It’s a treat to shop at the mall or hire a zippy SUV without people gushing over me.” She paused for a calming inhalation and shoved her manager’s face from her mind. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my fans, but this normalcy is pure gold. Enough about me. What about you? I can’t believe you finally wore down Jack. I still have your letters, full of studly Jack and his supreme hotness, how he didn’t register your presence. Good on you for ripping off his blinders.” She peered at the faded road sign and indicated to turn onto the gravel surface. “Ah, this is the road. I recognize the stand of trees and the dam.”
Emma craned her neck. “You’re a long way from anywhere.”
Pleasure suffused Cassie at the expanse of green. No strangers she had to play nice with. No bossy, demanding manager. No disappointed parents. Just a landscape of farmland and trees, paddocks of sheep. Oh! Cute, shaggy Highland cattle. Fresh air. Peace. “Clevedon township is ten minutes in the other direction. I have a phone. It will be fine. I’ll be fine. The peace and quiet will be good for the songwriting I plan to do.”
“Fair warning, I intend to drag you out to socialize. Shopping excursions. Dinner. A fruity cocktail or two at my favorite nightspots.”
“Done deal, but don’t tell Mom.” Cassie paused, her mind busy, thoughts shooting to the last crazy discussion with her mother. “Huh, when in New Zealand…don’t tell Mum. When she pauses to take breaths between her high-power business meetings, she mentions grandchildren. Yep, grandchildren! I asked her what she was drinking, but that didn’t go down well.”
Cassie caught Emma’s grimace and returned it with a wrinkle of her nose. During her childhood, before the family had left New Zealand to chase business opportunities in the States, her parents had kept busy with their careers. Later, as a teenager, she’d wondered how her parents managed to conceive her since they never spent much time in the same vicinity. Weird her mother would ask about grandchildren when she’d cheerfully handed over child-rearing duties to staff. Her mom had missed birthdays, school functions, lots of firsts.
And when she had spent time with her parents…
Cassie blinked rapidly to push away the onset of tears. “This is Grandad’s place.”
She pulled up outside the single-level weatherboard house, the air exploding from her in a silent O as she studied her inheritance.
“You can’t stay here.” Emma broke the oh-crap silence first.
Cassie eyed the peeling paint, the gap-toothed baseboards, the overgrown grass and weeds surrounding the house like a gang intent on robbery. The bushy trees loomed, creating dark shadows of neglect and gloom and creepiness. “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
“Perhaps the inside will be okay.” Emma’s voice held doubt.
“Fingers crossed.” Please let it be all right. She exited the rental vehicle and groped for calm. She refused to stumble at this obstacle, not after she’d informed her mother of her plans.
Her mother had scoffed, but in her polite and firm manner that left most people unclear if they’d been slighted or not. Cassie knew better. The silk-wrapped words reeked of insult and the harsh memory steeled Cassie’s spine. She’d rallied her troops—Emma in this case—and sailed forth with her plans.
She lassoed her panic, forced herself to analyze. Yay. One childhood lecture had stuck. Her second scan took in the gigantic spider web, the cracked window pane, the moss on the faded red roof. Not much of an improvement. “I hoped I was seeing things.”
“Nope. It’s a sad, run-down house,” Emma confirmed.
“Once the lawn is mowed…” Happy memories of holidays spent with her grandparents had driven her here. Failure was not an option.
“I’ll ring Jack.” Emma pulled out her phone. “He won’t mind helping. Clevedon Oysters isn’t far away and my man has a weakness for shellfish. That will work as a bribe.”
“Done deal.” Cassie took two steps and skidded on the dew-slick grass. Her feet shot from under her and she landed on her well-padded butt, the air exploding from her in a loud oomph.
Emma rushed to her aid. “Are you okay?”
Cassie waved her away and pushed to her feet with a groan. “Nothing a clumsy pill wouldn’t fix.” She rubbed her backside and winced at the dampness seeping through her favorite blue vintage sundress.
“Is your mother still telling you to lose weight to cure your clumsiness?”
A strained chortle burst from Cassie. “She blames you. She says you instilled bad eating habits in me.”
Emma pulled a face that would make a Maori warrior proud. “Your mother is a witch. You don’t l
isten to her, do you? Jack loves my curves. All you need to worry about is staying fit and healthy. You look great.”
“You’re my friend. You have to say that.”
“I wrote to you about Jack. You know how hard I had to work to get his notice. Consider it this way. You wanted to sing, right?”
“Yes.”
“You wanted it so bad, you ignored your parents’ wishes. If you find someone who interests you, fight for him in the same way.”
“And if I fail? Or he rejects me?”
Emma linked arms with her. “I’ll wipe your eyes, ply you with carrot sticks, and you’ll start again. None of us needs a man to be happy, but they can be handy with mice and long grass.”
“And for sex.”
“That too.”
The reason Emma was her best friend. She never treated her like a superstar or expected Cassie to buy her things. She kept up their longstanding correspondence and indulged Cassie’s love of receiving mail by writing regular letters.
“Just an aside, Emma. Chocolate ice cream works much better than carrot sticks. Oh, and a bottle of wine would go down well.”
“Gotcha. Chocolate. Wine. Ready to explore?” Emma winked—an exaggerated blink that boosted Cassie into an I-can-do-this determination.
Cassie sucked in her stomach, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Does Jack deal with rodents too?”
“He might lend you his cat.”
“I’d love a pet, but I’m on the road so much it wouldn’t be fair. That’s part of my man problem. I meet someone promising and have to leave. When I get back to base, I find another smart woman has snapped him up.”
“You put too much pressure on yourself. This is a holiday. Sun. Fresh air. My company.”
“Duly noted. I have the key.” She retrieved the key, still thankfully in her pocket, and fit it into the lock. It turned, and she pushed. Nothing happened. She twisted the key again and shoved. The wooden barrier flew open and, taken by surprise, Cassie toppled through the doorway.
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