Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed
By Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale, Maggie Wells
Private passion meets public display in these four hot novellas in Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed.
R Is for Reality by Ginny Glass
Sheer desperation drives Mackenzie Alexander to persuade handsome cab driver Greg Redding to audition for a role she’s been forced to cast. A role that leads to steamy encounters on and off set…
S Is for Scandalous by Emily Cale
Taking a job as a nude serving dish at a party is a departure for model Kacey James. But the public event becomes something much more private when one of the guests turns out to be a man from her past.
T Is for Tango by Christina Thacher
Adam is shocked when his office’s sexy temp, Sonia, starts changing clothes at her desk when everyone else has left for the night—until she makes it clear he’s her intended audience.
U Is for Undone by Maggie Wells
Dr. Alec McCarthy has noticed hot nurse and neighbor Sofia Morales around the hospital—but she really gets his attention when she does a striptease for him in front of her window.
44,000 words
Dear Reader,
Usually I begin these letters with some chatty information, but I’m departing from my norm this time to give you the opportunity to talk to me. At Carina, we’re always discussing our books and making sure we’re meeting your needs—not just with story and content, but also in the way they’re put together. This month, I’d like to reach out to you and ask your opinion on how the Carina Press books utilize the front and back matter. Do you like having the dear reader letter in the front? Would you prefer if it were in the back? Is there something more—excerpts, book lists or other information—we could be providing after the books? We welcome your comments and hope you will reach out to us with your thoughts at [email protected].
In the meantime, it’s business as usual here at Carina Press headquarters, and that means a lineup of excellent books (no bias here!) for the month of September. We welcome author Jael Wye to Carina Press with her science-fiction fairy-tale retelling, Ice Red, in which the tale of Snow White plays out on the deadly and beautiful planet Mars 300 years in the future. Joining her in launching a new series is return author Nico Rosso, who grabbed my attention the first time he pitched this series to me as “demon rock stars.” Misty is thrown into rock star and immortal demon Trevor Sand’s supernatural world of music, monsters and passion in Heavy Metal Heart.
More unique voices this month include urban fantasy author R.L. Naquin’s newest Monster Haven novel, Fairies in My Fireplace, as well as Agamemnon Frost and the Hollow Ships, book two of Kim Knox’s male/male science-fiction trilogy.
Sandy James wraps up her Alliance of the Amazons series with The Volatile Amazon. The Water Amazon leads the Alliance as they face their archenemy in their last and greatest fight. Veronica Scott joins Sandy in the paranormal category with Egypt-set Warrior of the Nile.
We have multiple releases in the erotic romance genre this month, including Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed, in which the Love Letters ladies strip away everything but the hot truth, and four couples see each other in a tantalizingly revealing new light. Forbidden Obsessions by Jodie Griffin features Bondage & Breakfast owner Gabe McConnell, who finally gets his chance at love when he meets a novice submissive who touches a part of his dominant heart no one else ever has. In Lynda Aicher’s Bonds of Hope, former America’s sweetheart Quinn Andrews has an opportunity to revive her career by playing a sexual submissive in a highly anticipated new TV series. Quinn is ready to throw herself into the role, and sex club The Den is the ideal place for a crash course.
Also in the erotic romance genre, we’re pleased to welcome author Lise Horton to Carina Press with Words of Lust. A career spent teaching erotic literature does not prepare brainy Professor Serafina Luca for NYC construction foreman Nick Stellato, but his lessons in lust promise to fulfill her wickedest desires, and his promise of love, her wildest dreams.
For historical romance fans, Alyssa Everett offers up A Tryst with Trouble. The arrogant heir to a dukedom and a blunt-spoken spinster take an instant dislike to each other, but must join forces to solve a murder mystery in this clever regency romp.
Kaylea Cross returns with another edge-of-your-seat romantic suspense novel, Lethal Pursuit. An air force pararescue jumper and a female security forces officer are locked in an intense battle of wills, but when they’re captured by an enemy warlord, it takes everything they have to survive and fight their way back to friendly lines together. Check out the other books in this series, Deadly Descent and Tactical Strike.
We’re excited to present Corroded, the next book in Karina Cooper’s St. Croix Chronicles. Now fixated on revenge, bounty hunter Cherry St. Croix must bend all her intellect on catching a murderer—no matter whose help she must ask, and to whose demand she must submit.
Last, I’m thrilled to announce the release of three debut authors this month. Rebecca Crowley’s contemporary sports romance, The Striker’s Chance, gives us passion on and off the pitch when ambitious PR manager Holly Taylor has to revamp the playboy image of sexy, stubborn professional soccer player Kepler de Klerk. Michelle Witvliet breaks onto the romantic suspense scene with Breaking Protocol. She can’t let go of a tragic past; he faces an uncertain future; so they live in the moment and discover all they really need is each other. And in our new adult lineup, debut author Melissa Guinn offers a new adult romance novel about first love, second chances and learning to let go in Headfirst Falling.
I hope you enjoy this month’s releases as much as we have, and find them satisfying, remarkable and memorable!
We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to [email protected]. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
www.carinapress.com
www.twitter.com/carinapress
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Contents
R Is for Reality
S Is for Scandalous
T Is for Tango
U Is for Undone
About the Authors
Copyright
R Is for Reality
By Ginny Glass
He’s going to kill me.
Mackenzie rushed out of her apartment, struggling into a pair of boots, nearly tripping as she hopped on a single foot down onto the first landing of her building’s rickety stairwell. Checking her watch as she barreled down the last flight, she swore a streak as blue as the peeling paint on the walls.
If I don’t make it to the studio in twenty minutes, Lyle is going to lose it.
The job hadn’t come easy. She’d scratched and clawed for years, sometimes even worked for free, a lowly lens jockey on dozens of projects before she landed the coveted job of cinematographer on Going for Broke. The movie was a romantic drama—moody, heartrending awards fodder. It required diffuse lighting, lots of angles and lots of close-up work.
Also, being on time for screen tests helped with the wh
ole keeping-the-job thing.
She tried to control her churning stomach, the rise of panic at the back of her throat. Getting a taxi at noon on a Friday was a near impossibility. She felt in her purse for loose cash, knowing that if she flashed a little green, it might encourage the brake reflex that didn’t normally exist in Los Angeles taxi drivers.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, sliding into her second boot. Hoisting her purse on her shoulder, she leaned into the scarred wood of the building’s heavy front door and pushed out into the bright sunlight, clutching the two errant twenties she’d found in the detritus of chewing gum wrappers and coffeehouse receipts.
“Hey!” she called as a cab flew past. She trotted down the concrete front steps and bounded across the sidewalk to throw an arm up after another passing taxi.
Away from the building, the difference between the seeming warmth of the bright day and the chilly bite that blew in the fall air was marked. Mack frowned as the cab kept going. Her long hair whipping wildly in the wind, she sidestepped a woman with a rolling basket of groceries and zigzagged into the street. Damned Santa Anas.
She nearly launched herself onto the hood of the next taxi that passed, causing the driver to screech to a stop. When the cabbie got over the initial shock of nearly having a woman on his hood, he began to curse to rival Mack’s earlier barrage. Her heart raced, her adrenaline ramping up. She waved the cash at the driver. He paused, squinted at her through his grimy windshield, and motioned to her to get in. She peeled herself off the hood and climbed inside, relief settling over her and steadying her.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, lady?” the man in the driver’s seat hollered. “I could have mowed you down!” He craned over the seat to give her a hard stare as she scrambled into the backseat, lugging her bag behind her.
Whoa. The stare was leveled from pair of deep green eyes, and it momentarily struck her silent. “Venice and Main. Fast,” she said, waving the money at him again. It hadn’t been her stupid idea for half the damned crew to be involved in the screen tests, but the director would flip if she wasn’t there.
“Venice and Main,” he said, leaning forward to gauge traffic. “You got it.”
Mack bent to fuss with the heel of her boot, a cover to sneak a glance at his display license. She couldn’t make out his name, age or anything else in the smaller text. Narrowing her eyes, she leaned toward the glass divider. His voice was even, mid-deep, baritone but not bass. He had an accent. In the rearview mirror, she could make out a sharp wedge of jaw shaded by stubble. How tall was he?
“You need something?”
“No, no, go ahead.” Stop casting everyone you see, Mack.
This movie was in development hell and she was being tormented by pitchforks. She didn’t want to be involved in casting, but the project’s mercurial director had pitched major hissy fits until half a dozen of the movie’s main crew agreed to weigh in on the hero. All she had to do was get to the studio, vote in a male lead, and the devil would be off her back. She could focus on what mattered—the camera work.
“Those twenties a tip?” Again, she couldn’t place the faint flatness to his words, but he sure didn’t sound like a native Californian. Those green eyes met hers in the mirror. He lifted his chin and she saw the corner of his firm-set mouth slip into a smile when she nodded.
She closed her eyes as they peeled out into the street, feeling for her seat belt and clicking it into place as the he took the promise of money and ran with it—or rather, floored the gas with it. Her stomach did a few loops as she heard the squeal of brakes beside them and a few shouted curses. Blowing out a deep breath, Mack tipped her head back against the seat and prayed for green lights.
*
He was going to murder someone. He’d picked up his current fare thinking she’d be an easy tip, but the lunchtime traffic was making him doubt he’d even get to the drop-off before the curvy brunette in the backseat blew a gasket.
Greg gripped the steering wheel in frustration, flicking out a finger to trip his turn signal and inch his way over a lane. Not that he was complaining overmuch. From the angle of his rearview mirror, he caught a few good looks at a pair of long tanned legs in a skirt that rode just above her knees. Her outfit said professional-something-or-other, but the neighborhood he’d picked her up in said not-quite-made-it. He thought about starting up the whole cabbie small-talk routine, but she was quiet, her eyes were closed. His cell phone rang, and he dug in the breast pocket of his shirt to retrieve it.
“Redding,” he clipped, craning to see down the street.
“Kid,” a gruff voice came on the other end, “you’d better get your ass down to this depot, pronto, because you took the wrong cab.”
“Manny,” Greg said, “you know you promised me the newer model. Who’s after it, Gianni? Tell him he can blow me, he snaked a very busy corner from me two nights last week.”
His boss snorted on the other end. “You’re one to talk, hotshot. You hang out outside the Fairmont just to snag rich cougars for your backseat. That pretty face ain’t going to be gaining you any more gratuities if you don’t get here, now.”
The line went dead. Greg swore softly, a bad habit he’d picked up when he’d come to this godforsaken city eight months ago. He couldn’t lose this job. He was behind on rent and, unlike his small town in South Dakota, this city didn’t operate on handshakes and IOUs. And at 33, it wasn’t exactly kosher to be borrowing rent money from your parents.
They were only halfway to his fare’s destination, but maybe he could swing by the depot real quick. The clump of cars in front of them suddenly broke loose and Greg made a split-second call, navigating them onto a side street, the asphalt bumpy and uneven. They hit several potholes in quick succession, and his fare bounced along with them. Again, he wasn’t complaining.
“Are you insane?” She wasn’t quiet now. “Where are you going?”
“I have to get back to the main depot. That was my boss.”
It took her about half a minute to get good and pissed off. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned up to the glass. Up close, Greg could see that her thick dark hair fell in slight waves past her shoulders and she had striking, faintly exotic features. An alluring change from the parade of bleach-blonde dolls native to the area.
“Absolutely not. Turn this cab around. You don’t understand, Mr.—Redding. Turn this cab around.”
“Hi,” he said, grinning. “My friends call me Greg.”
A pair of blazing golden-brown eyes glared back at him, and she shoved against the glass, which was ineffectual but emphatic.
“Stop the cab,” she hissed, banging on the partition between again. “We’re going the wrong way!”
“Hey, hey,” he soothed, putting a hand up in a gesture of surrender. “I really need to go change cabs, so I appreciate your understanding…”
“Stop the cab!” she screamed. Her voice was so shrill that Greg blinked.
Greg took a breath and held up a hand. “Truce,” he said. “I swear I’ll even drop you for free if you just let me make this stop.”
The brunette behind him stared rusty, painfully slow-stabbing daggers at him. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she said, sounding winded. “I have to get to work. If I’m not there, I’m seriously screwed. You have no right!”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I need my job, too, sweetheart, and if you’re runnin’ that late, why the hell did you grab a taxi at this time of day? You work here, you live here, and you know how it is.”
“Look, pretty boy, while I’m the passenger, this is my cab. We can either turn it around right now, or I can call the cops. I’m sure kidnapping is still a crime in this city.” She rummaged in the giant heap of canvas next to her that sort of resembled a purse and came up with a cell phone.
“Pretty boy?” he snapped back. “You need to settle down back there, miss.”
“You’re an asshole. You’re generally ruining my day and possibly my life.” She raked a hand thro
ugh the wild toss of her hair and stabbed at the phone with a finger.
“That’s pretty dramatic.” Despite all the sound and fury, her focus on the phone gave him a chance to stare without seeming creepy. She was sexy as all get out, and it stirred awareness in him, which he would normally be happy to give free rein to—if she didn’t seem ready to strike him back.
“Fine,” she said, “have it your way.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do it. Look, we got off to a bad start. I’m Greg Redding. I’ll be your cabbie today. And you are?” He smiled at her, dazzle dazzle! She looked less than impressed. He eased to a stop at a red light.
She brandished the cell phone at him like a weapon.
“Don’t bludgeon me. Put down the phone.” He put a palm up. “Five minutes, I swear.”
Please, God, let this insane woman not bash me to death with her cell phone, he prayed.
*
This man was infuriating. He might be about to cost her a job. He was a giant pain in her ass. Still, she had to admit, he was easy as hell on the eyes. Mack pushed aside her panic and reassessed her present company.
Even sitting in front of her in the cab, it was obvious that he had several inches on her, and she was no petite girl. His hair, a shade darker brown than her own, stopped just above the collar of his shirt. Combed back at the top, it was longer than she usually found attractive.
He had a neatly trimmed goatee that, along with the hair, made him look a tad Victorian. Most men would have looked just plain old-fashioned sporting the combination. It definitely worked for him. And that slight, flat twang to his voice, she still couldn’t place it.
His boss had sounded, at least from this end of the conversation, pretty pissed off. She took a deep breath, her thumb hovering over the send button on her phone, ready to call the cops to sort out this disaster.
“Look, you obviously don’t appreciate the severity of the problem, here. I need my job.” She should press Send.
The light turned green. Greg hit the gas at the same time her phone rang. She looked at the small screen and winced.
“It’s Lyle,” she wailed. “I’m dead!”
Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed Page 1
