 
SEDUCE MY HEART

Tracy Ellen, Aria Glazki,

Mary Hughes, Tessa Layne

Kelli McCracken, Shelley Munro

Ellis O. Day, Tracey Pedersen,

Kristen Strassel, Shaniel Watson
Table of Contents

Note to Readers

Innocent Next Door by Shelley Munro

Colliding With You by Kelli McCracken

The Voyeur Series by Ellis O. Day

Tap That! by Tracey Pedersen

Cry For You by Shaniel Watson

Bad Boy Billionaire's Lady by Mary Hughes

No Strings Attached by Kristen Strassel

Tasting Temptation by Aria Glazki

A Date With Fate by Tracy Ellen

Prairie Storm by Tessa Layne

Afterword

Copyright Page
Note to Readers

Do you enjoy hot and spicy contemporary romances?

Then, look no further. We have a sampler full of fun and decadent reads for you. It's the perfect way to discover a new-to-you author or series. Check out the **FIRST CHAPTERS** of our books, and if you like what you read, follow the links to the retailer of your choice to purchase the entire book.

Wishing you happy reading!

The Sampler Authors:

Shelley Munro

Shaniel Watson

Aria Glazki

Tracey Pedersen

Mary Hughes

Ellis O. Day

Kelli McCracken

Kristen Strassel

Tracy Ellen

Tessa Layne
Innocent Next Door by Shelley Munro

_Adventure is Summer William's mission!_

Life in a small town is comfortable, but living with her loving but overprotective family means it lacks adventure. And forget romance with interfering brothers around. It's time to leave the cozy nest. Her grandiose plans come to a grinding halt when she becomes innocently involved with a crime boss. Then she bumps heads and lips with her uncle's sexy but very bossy neighbor.

Special Air Services soldier Nikolai Tarei owes his neighbor and friend a favor, but looking out for his twenty-two-year-old niece is stretching friendship too far. She is young but her sex appeal, sassiness and brazen disregard for safety have Nikolai scrambling to protect both her and his battered heart.

Summer is a librarian who's a whiz at research. Now she's ready to try out the sex toys and sexual positions she's researched. She is tying Nikolai in sensual knots and driving him nuts in and out of bed. And blast it all-he's enjoying it. Suddenly he's thinking about making the Summer babysitting assignment a full-time commitment-if only he can persuade her to see things his way.

**_Warning: Contains an alpha army hero and a virgin, BBW heroine. Mix and see the sparks fly!_**
Author Note

I wrote this story early in my writing career, and I'm excited to offer this new, updated version as the lead story in my _Military Men_ series. Summer, the heroine, is a delight, and most of us probably wish we possessed half her confidence and sassy attitude. One thing is certain--Nikolai's life will never be the same.

For new readers, this story takes place in my home country of New Zealand and features a New Zealand military man--a New Zealand Special Air Service soldier (NZSAS). Innocent Next Door is followed by Soldier with Benefits and Safeguarding Sorrel. The fourth book in this series, as yet untitled, will be available in early 2019.

And a final note: you're likely to come across a few terms that might confuse you for an instant. That's my New Zealand speak at work, so go with it and enjoy your armchair visit!

Happy reading,

Shelley
The Challenging Babysitting Assignment

"I want you to look after Summer."

Summer's bare feet froze outside the door to her Uncle Henry's study. Her hand slid from the brass doorknob. A babysitter? Indignation stabbed her mind, robbing her of the sense of accomplishment she'd experienced seconds earlier.

At age twenty-two, why did they think she needed a babysitter? Her eyes narrowed as she placed her package on a wooden pedestal table and pressed closer to eavesdrop.

"Do I look like a babysitter?" a masculine voice snapped. "Try the yellow pages."

Summer nodded emphatically, giving a silent cheer for the owner of the low, husky voice. _Way to go, mister_. But while she waited for Uncle Henry's comeback, she fumed.

She knew exactly where the idea had originated--her family, or more specifically, her mother who thought danger lurked behind every corner in sinful Auckland City.

After weeks of discussion, her mother had reluctantly agreed to her departure on the stipulation that she stay with Henry, her mother's younger brother, while she attended her course.

"Think of it as a favor."

"No."

The blunt, uncompromising answer pushed a smile to the surface. She liked this man. And she agreed with him one hundred percent. Yes, she'd been a sickly child, but she'd outgrown the bad asthma attacks. As long as she used her preventer, there was nothing wrong with her health. She glanced down at her bust and hips, her expression turning rueful. Thanks to her mother's excellent cooking, her body--well, the polite word was "curvaceous".

"Nikolai." Uncle Henry gave a heartfelt groan--one designed to raise sympathy. "My sister will make my life miserable. She'll hunt me down on my honeymoon."

Summer suppressed a snort as she flipped the end of her French braid over her shoulder. Why did Uncle Henry think she'd come to Auckland? Although her mother meant well, she was overprotective when it came to the baby of the family. And now she was doing the smothering thing by remote control, all the way from Eketahuna.

If she allowed this, her bid for freedom would end before it started. It was time her family let her make her own mistakes, let her fix any stuff-ups by herself. Let her live.

When her boss at the Eketahuna Library had suggested further training in Auckland, the possibilities had made her breathless. Eager. At last, a chance to spread her fledgling wings. Despite her parents' protests, she'd seized the opportunity with both hands.

And she wasn't about to allow anyone to take away the experience.

"Tell someone who cares. With my track record, I'm the last person you should ask."

A shiver goose-stepped down her spine. That voice... His decisive tone did things to her. She considered easing the door open a little farther to check out the body that matched the sexy rumble. Meeting men was high on her to-do list. No time like the present.

"I hate to do this," Uncle Henry said, "but I'm a desperate man. _You owe me_. That time I saved you from the broad in--"

The heartfelt curse lifted Summer's brows toward her hairline. She hadn't heard her brothers use that oath before, and they spilled some original ones if they thought they were alone.

"All right, dammit. I'll check on her now and then, but if I see one girly tear, I'm outta there. And our debt is square once you get back."

"That should do it," Uncle Henry hastily agreed. "Just check to make sure her car is there and get a visual every couple of days."

_Get a visual?_ Good grief. Nikolai was one of Uncle Henry's military friends. He'd take his duties seriously. This was not good.

"All I want is a peaceful honeymoon."

"All you want is to get laid," Nikolai muttered.

Uncle Henry chuckled--a smug masculine sound that made Summer ache to deck him on Veronica's behalf. "Yeah, that too."

Right, that did it. If she allowed this, she'd never escape her family's well-meaning influence. Yeah, she loved them, knew they loved her in return, but enough was enough.

Summer shoved the door open and strode through. "I'm back. Oh--" She stopped in front of her uncle's large wooden desk. Her hand fluttered to her left breast in pretend surprise while she studied her uncle's tan face. Handsome and burly, his recent happiness seemed dimmed by a hint of guilt or maybe that was her imagination. "You have a visitor."

"Summer, this is Nikolai Tarei. He's my closest neighbor."

Summer's gaze had already snapped to the man with the sexy voice. Physical awareness floored her, made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. Luckily, her brain continued to function and nothing impaired her twenty-twenty vision. Oh, boy. Tall, dark and sinfully sexy was welcome to guard her body _any_ time.

Her uncle stood and rounded the desk to stand at her side. "Nikolai, my niece Summer. She's up in Auckland to do a six-month course at the Central Library."

Nikolai shoved away from the wall and stepped across the faded blue carpet. "Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand in greeting.

Summer realized her mouth gaped and snapped it shut. She stuck out her hand, and instantly it was engulfed in his warm grasp. Her heart tap-danced, did a jig--the whole works. She fought the urge to jerk from the contact. One thing stood out in her mind. _Miranda's Tips to Flirting_ could come in handy with him around.

He released her hand and stepped back. Summer's avid gaze followed as if attached by an umbilical cord. Big. Actually, make that huge. He towered over her by a good six inches. Broad shoulders gave his black T-shirt quite a workout. She took in his ruffled black hair, the stubble shading his jaw, his sensual mouth. Under no circumstances would she call him tame. Dark eyes that reminded her of the richest, most expensive chocolate skimmed her face, her body, then settled back on her uncle.

Stupidly, Summer felt the sting of rejection, but she told herself it didn't matter. Nikolai Tarei reminded her of her two brothers--extremely capable and overprotective. And one look told her it was likely he bore the bossy gene. She didn't require another brother-figure looking over her shoulder, vetting boyfriends, putting a dampener on her quest for independence. Not when she intended to let loose and live a little.

"I wanted you to meet Nikolai before I left. If you have any problems, you can call on him."

Uncle Henry's cheerful, gruff voice made her stiffen. Trying too hard. Did they think she was stupid?

"Most people would call that babysitting." She bared her teeth in a smile and intercepted the brief glance the two men exchanged--the quirk of brow, the silent grimace that said, "You deal with her".

_Oh, for goodness sake._ "I'm not expecting any problems. I'll be too busy." She paused a beat. "Going out on the town."

Uncle Henry spluttered. His mouth opened and closed several times.

"I have to go. I'm expecting a call," Nikolai said.

Summer choked back a laugh. In military terms that qualified as a strategic retreat. Wise man. She watched him saunter to the door and frowned. What should have been a loose-limbed stride had a distinct hitch, but his black jeans covered any evidence of an injury.

"Coward," Uncle Henry muttered.

Summer turned her gaze on her uncle. "Did you say something?"

"No."

Summer heard a distinct snicker and whipped her head around.

Nikolai's face displayed polite farewell. "Henry, see you when you get back. Give my love to Veronica."

"Right." The two men shook hands. "Thanks."

The silent communication thing again. She watched Nikolai exit and limp down the passage. Appreciation bloomed along with a grin at his mighty fine rear end. He might be her babysitter, her jailer, but she still appreciated the view.

She turned to her uncle. "What's wrong with Nikolai's leg?"

"Knee injury."

"On active duty?"

"Yeah."

Suspicion made her narrow her eyes. "Do Dillon and Josh know him?"

"Your brothers? Maybe."

A tight sensation gripped her chest. "Don't tell me he's Special Air Service."

"Okay." Uncle Henry blinked, his steady blue gaze not fooling her one bit. "I won't."

* * * * *

Nikolai limped down the uneven front path, heading for the gate in the boundary fence between his and Henry's property. He would've stomped if not for his blasted knee.

_A babysitter_.

Hell, he didn't need that sort of responsibility.

His foot skidded on a pile of damp grass clippings. Pain, sharp and jagged, lanced from his knee up his thigh. Nikolai glared at the green hose that spurted water into Henry's rose garden. He sucked in a pained breath, cursed and staggered to the gate, leaning his weight against it while he rode out the discomfort.

_Babysitting_. Hell, Henry should know better. Incapacitated the way he was now, he was about as useful as a gun without bullets.

Nikolai tested a little weight on his knee and decided he could make his kitchen without keeling over. The gate creaked open. He should have taken that damn painkiller before he went to Henry's. At least then, he might have an excuse for agreeing to Henry's blackmail. But no, he'd been drug-free, clear of mind and in total control, yet he'd still managed to find himself looking after a green country girl just out of high school.

He gritted his teeth as he hobbled the last few steps to his front door. Nikolai shouldered it open and headed straight for the kitchen and the bottle of pills. Five minutes later, he dropped into his recliner chair and stared out at his overgrown garden, past the knee-high grass and the scraggy shrubs.

He watched Henry carry a suitcase from the house and toss it into the rear of the car. Summer followed with a smaller bag and a suit in a protective cover. Nikolai saw her say something, heard Henry's booming laugh through the open window. His throat constricted with a feeling he hated to analyze as Henry swept his niece into a bone-crushing hug.

Hard to believe his friend and mentor was married after years of the single life. Nikolai snorted. That was the kicker. Henry had sworn to remain a bachelor then taken one look at Veronica and fallen hard. They'd married quietly yesterday and were off on a cruise this evening, leaving from Veronica's apartment in the city. Hopefully, marriage would work for Henry. It sure as hell hadn't for him.

Nikolai thrust aside bitter memories to study Summer. Average height, long brown hair in a plait, on the chubby side, and a dazzling smile that made a man look twice despite the god-awful gray sack thing she was wearing.

His charge until Henry returned. Nikolai leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Hopefully, once a week would work. It couldn't be that bad.

* * * * *

A noise woke Summer. One moment she was dreaming of playing rugby with the All Blacks and the next her eyes sprang open, the fine hairs on her arms prickling in silent alarm. She froze, exhaling in a measured manner, while she listened.

There it was again--a muted creak. A footstep? She slid from bed, knowing she'd have to investigate or risk lying awake all night.

Whispers carried down the passage outside her room. A light flashed briefly and shut off.

"Must be in one of the bedrooms."

The guttural whisper snapped her to action. She crept to the window. The shutter clicked as she lifted the latch--loud enough for her to freeze in place.

"I'll check this room and the bathroom. You take the other two rooms."

"What about the girl?"

"You heard the boss. Do whatever's necessary to get the goods."

"Right."

_Two of them_. Healthy fear had her springing to action. She shoved the window open wide, no longer caring about attracting attention. Footsteps sounded outside her bedroom. The door handle grated as it turned, and she slithered feetfirst out the window. The sill dug into her stomach while her feet dangled two feet above Uncle Henry's prized rose garden. Not the best position, but not as bad as getting accosted by strange men in the middle of the night. She wriggled farther over the windowsill and let go.

Rose thorns sliced at her calves, her thighs. She bit her bottom lip. _Shit!_ That hurt. Well, that would teach her to wear a skimpy nightgown rather than the flannelette pajamas her mother had packed. She extricated herself from the grip of Tom Thumb, Uncle Henry's favorite rosebush, and limped toward Nikolai's house. Pique made her grimace and think in curses. Just her luck. Her first night alone, and she needed help. A great start to her bid for independence.

"She's not here."

Summer glanced over her shoulder and once again cursed her nightgown. The pale material stuck out like a Jersey bull in her mother's vegetable garden.

"She must be here."

She changed direction, heading to the rear of Nikolai's house. She stepped onto the verandah and almost fell through a broken board. Damn and blast.

"The window's open. Check the garden." The intruders' voices carried on the night air.

An open window beckoned, the sheer net curtains fluttering in the soft breeze. The voices moved closer, and panicked, Summer dived through the opening.

Something tackled her, sending her flying. She landed on her back in the middle of a mattress. The air hissed from her lungs as someone pinned her in place.

"Don't move," a harsh voice gritted next to her ear. A hand moved down her arm and across her chest, freezing when it came into contact with her breast. This time, the succinct curse didn't raise so much as an eyebrow. The body pressing her into the bed moved, but not enough for her to draw a good lungful of air. A bedside lamp switched on, and she blinked at the bright light.

"You." Nikolai glared down at her. "What the devil are you doing in my bedroom?"

She swallowed. His hand was warm, and she felt her nipple hardening under his touch. Humiliation at her body's betrayal made her tense even as she savored the spike of sensation.

"Um...would you mind taking your hand off my breast?" The way her nipple was cozying into his palm--talk about a newsflash. Nikolai this close was unnerving, especially since he was the enemy. She refused to imagine how good it would feel if he rearranged their bodies a fraction. Nope, she wasn't going there.

The furrow between his brows deepened. "Isn't that what you're here for?"

The innuendo made her stiffen even more. "Someone's broken into Uncle Henry's house."

"Why didn't you say so?" To Summer's intense relief, he released her. "Have you rung the police?"

"No. I..." Summer's voice trailed off as she took in the broad expanse of his naked chest. _Oops, naked all over_. Her gaze jumped northward, but the vision of masculinity remained seared to her retinas. _He looked so much better without clothes_.

Nikolai rolled his eyes with the same masculine impatience her brothers exhibited whenever they thought her behavior stupid. "Never mind. Get in bed and stay warm. I'll take care of things."

He yanked on a pair of jeans and limped from the room before she could tell him what she thought of his verbal pat on the head. The rumble of his voice from the other room told her he was ringing the cops. No way was she staying in his bed and missing out on the excitement. She sprang off the mattress. This was more adventure than she'd ever imagined, and it was only her second day in Auckland.

Summer crept down the passage, feeling her way cautiously through the dark and unfamiliar house.

"I told you to stay in bed."

She jerked as his warm breath tickled her ear. Oh, boy. Who'd have thought an ear was an erogenous zone? She bit her bottom lip, frowned then grinned as a brainwave struck. "I heard a noise outside the window."

Luckily, it was dark since she couldn't lie to save herself. And her body was broadcasting lustful messages a blind man could decipher. Full participation in this adventure would distract her, help her gain a semblance of control--she hoped.

"All right. Stay with me." He slid through the darkness with the ease of a soldier on night maneuvers.

She blundered after him and kicked a table leg. The clatter and her squeak of pain made him curse. Huh, another new one to save for later--wait until the next time her brothers tried to tell her how to live her life. Her brilliance would stun them into silence.

"Can't you be quiet?"

"I can't see."

Another muttered curse. "Here." He seized her hand. "Hold on to me and keep up."

Summer felt a royal salute coming on until he attached her hand to the waistband of his jeans. When she touched warm skin, every militant urge stalled. Her fingers curled over the body-warmed denim, her senses reeling, her body humming--from toe-tips to the top of her head. Bits in between tingled and plunged and swooped like a high-speed lift traveling to the ground floor. _Oh, boy_.

He opened the front door and slid outside. She stumbled after him, her mind engaged on sensation, the way her silk nightgown caressed her curves, rather than the need to reconnoiter.

He stopped without warning. Summer plowed into his back and her nose jabbed his shoulder blade. A whoosh of air escaped her parted lips.

His hands snaked out, steadying and preventing her from falling. "Mind the step. I haven't got 'round to fixing it yet."

The step? Her next intake of breath was a mistake. It was full of _him_. Sandalwood soap and Nikolai. A very combustible combination. Who'd have thought?

In the distance, a siren sounded.

"Help is on the way." Satisfaction oozed from his voice. "They've managed to get here quicker than I thought they would. The siren is a nice touch."

Huh? She shook away her confusion to focus on the important things. "Are the intruders still in Uncle Henry's house?"

"Can't you hear them?"

_Um, no_. She couldn't register anything except the thud of her heart. It was a wonder he didn't pick up the rapid tattoo with him standing so close and all. Her breath stalled. Did he realize his hand had slid down to her butt? It wasn't her most attractive feature and frankly, she possessed better places if he wanted to explore.

"Damn, they've heard the siren."

Summer turned her head in the direction he was looking. Two shadowy figures sprinted across her uncle's lawn, past the fishpond out front and disappeared around the corner of the house. Seconds later, a car engine roared.

"Smart," Nikolai muttered. "Look, they're going to drive back down the road as if they have every right. If they sped off, that would appear suspicious."

A car pulled into Nikolai's driveway. The siren stopped.

"Stay there."

Another order. Summer considered then decided she refused to take orders. The police would want to interview her. After avoiding the hole, she stepped off the wooden deck.

Two men leapt from the car, and the three of them indulged in a complicated handshake followed by a round of shoulder clapping that would've flattened a normal person.

Nikolai grinned. "That was quick."

"I was at Jake's place," one of the guys said.

Summer came to a screeching halt. Her eyes narrowed on the group, and she must've made a sound. The two strangers whirled and their faces, tight and ready for action, gave them away.

They were not policemen.

Both tall. Both muscular. Both with dark hair and military bearing, they screamed SAS mates.

"Who's the babe?" Although the voice was soft, the words carried.

Nikolai sighed heavily. "I thought I told you to stay put?" He limped up the path and tugged her by the arm until she stood in front of him. Summer felt his body heat sear the length of her back. His arm wrapped around her as if he thought she might attempt an escape. Pressed to his body and with his arm weighing down on her breasts, she could hardly breathe. "This is Henry's niece."

There was a moment's silence before one of the men whistled. "Not a babe then?"

Nikolai's limbs tensed, his grasp tightening.

Summer struggled for freedom, and he released her the instant she wriggled. Enough. They couldn't pretend she was invisible. She was right in front of their eyes. "Are the two mutually exclusive?" she demanded, clicking her fingers.

"Of course not, ma'am," one of the men said.

She glared and stuck out her hand. "Summer, not ma'am."

"Jake," the man replied.

Interesting. His hand was as warm as Nikolai's but didn't produce the same tingles. A soft growl came from behind her, and Jake grinned as he liberated her hand.

The other man beside Jake claimed it almost instantly. "Louie. Pleased to meet you, Summer." Louie's low drawl held flirtation, and she felt an answering grin gather momentum.

" _Louie_."

Startled, her gaze snapped to Nikolai. His face bore a feral warning while his tone promised reprisal. Against what she didn't know, but Louie did and he heeded the caution.

"Shirt," Nikolai snapped.

Jake and Louie grinned at each other. They did the silent communication thing then Jake shrugged, whipped off his cotton shirt and held it out to her. She stared in confusion. What did they want her to do with it? Wash it?

"Hell." Nikolai grabbed the garment and thrust it against her chest. "Put it on before we drown in the drool." A snicker drew his wrath. "What?"

"Nothing," Jake said.

Nikolai nailed her with a glare. "We'll go and check Henry's house. Make sure they've gone."

Summer nodded, and once they moved off, followed them.

"Stay," Nikolai ordered.

She halted and frowned at the departing men before glancing over her shoulder. Nope, Nikolai didn't own a dog.

And she didn't have fur.

She crept down the footpath after the three men, careful where she placed her bare feet. Her body ached in interesting places, but no way was she missing a single bit of this adventure.

Want to learn if Nikolai succumbs to Summer? Purchase Innocent Next Door
About Shelley Munro

USA Today bestselling author Shelley Munro lives in Auckland, the City of Sails, with her husband and a cheeky Jack Russell/mystery breed puppy.

Typical New Zealanders, Shelley and her husband left home for their big OE soon after they married (translation of New Zealand speak - big overseas experience). A twelve-month long adventure lengthened to six years of roaming the world. Enduring memories include being almost sat on by a mountain gorilla in Rwanda, lazing on white sandy beaches in India, whale watching in Alaska, searching for leprechauns in Ireland, and dealing with ghosts in an English pub.

While travel is still a big attraction, these days Shelley is most likely found in front of her computer following another love - that of writing paranormal and contemporary stories of romance and adventure. Other interests include watching rugby (strictly for research purposes), cycling, baking bread and curling up with an enjoyable book.

To learn more about Shelley's books check out her website or follow her on Bookbub.
Colliding With You by Kelli McCracken

This time he's playing for keeps

Jesse Woods is in a crisis. Between his crazy ex-girlfriend and mobs of female fans, his life as a rock star is getting more dangerous. His only chance of having something normal is to find a new girlfriend, real or fake. When he reconnects with Cori Clarke, he wants her to be the one. She has no other choice after a secret he accidentally reveals leaves her in financial jeopardy.

As if watching her crush marry her sister wasn't hard enough, Cori's tempted to return the antique bridesmaid's gift her sister gave her. Legend says the owner will find fortune, fertility, and fortitude, but myths didn't pay bills. Without financial support from her father, she's willing to consider any job that will pay her tuition, even if it means being Jesse's assistant. There's only one stipulation. Cori refuses to be his latest fling.

Jesse knows he saved Cori from a dire situation. He didn't expect it to dredge up old feelings. As much as he wants to give her the world, only one thing can guarantee she'll be his. All it will take is one night with her, but putting his plan in motion could cost Cori her future.
Author Note

Music and writing go together like peanut butter and jelly. Songs inspire most of my story ideas, which may be the reason I love writing rocker romances. _Colliding with You_ came about after I finished writing its predecessor, _Longing for You_. Cori and Jesse couldn't wait to tell me the rest of their story, and I knew Cori was going to be handful, even more so than her sister, Cassie, from _Longing for You_. If you like sexy stories, bad boy rockers, and heroines with a lot of spunk, you'll enjoy this sensual series. Each of the books in the _Touched by Magic_ series are interconnected, but each can serve as a standalone.

Happy reading!

Kelli McCracken
That Thing You Do

A tongue flicked over Cori's clit as she squirmed beneath the hot mouth devouring her. Each pass made her anticipate her release and the sweet sensation that would rock her from head to toe. Despite how desperately she needed to come, one thought prolonged her orgasm.

She was going to be late. The clock on the wall proved how much.

There was no one else to blame. She was the one who invited Dusty Rowe to her dorm room. From the moment he shoved her onto her bed, spread her legs, and pushed her panties aside, she knew she was taking a chance of running behind. If he weren't so damn insistent--or good at fucking her with his mouth-- she would have beaten her sister to the rehearsal. Now she'd be the last one to arrive.

Cassie would be pissed.

This wasn't the way Cori wanted to spend her Friday night. She'd rather be out with her friends, hitting up parties and clubs before semester finals began the following week. Instead, she had to go to the church her mother attended and rehearse. What was so difficult about walking down the aisle that people had to practice? It should be natural.

Even so, she dreaded the thought of doing it. Saturday would be worse when she had to dress up and repeat the process in front of a crowded church. Then, she would watch her sister marry Theo McCabe.

Another flick of Dusty's tongue had her whimpering. Sandy hair brushed her inner thigh, as his face remained planted at her apex. He alternated between sucking her tender nub to swirling it. His mouth worked its magic. It stole away every other thought.

His hair filled her hand as she grabbed it and bucked against his mouth. He groaned at her excitement, but the vibrations only made her wetter. It did little to relieve the pressure building in her core.

Dusty pushed her legs wider. His tongue plunged into her entrance as he lapped her juice. Each swirl made her body feel lighter, and yet, it felt like she couldn't move. It was more than the sensation his mouth was evoking. It was her orgasm coming to a head.

Her clit ached as Dusty sucked it into his mouth again. He glided two fingers inside her, working them as far as he could reach. The faster he thrust them in and out, the harder he sucked.

A cry ripped from Cori's chest. Her legs trembled from the electrifying pulses filling her body. Each of her breaths grew more labored than the last. The sweet sensation spilled over, and every part of her throbbed.

"Fuck yes," she moaned.

As her clit grew sensitive, she tightened her legs around Dusty's head. He moaned too, then he pried his head from her thighs and stood.

"Damn, girl, you could crush someone with these legs."

"Sorry," she giggled. "It's years of dance lessons. I can't help it."

"Oh yeah? Well, are you ever gonna let me feel them wrapped around my waist?"

She lowered her eyes to the bulge in his pants. There was no denying how much she wanted him to take them off and give her a full view of his cock. She'd felt it on several occasions, but something always interrupted them.

Today was no different. Another glimpse at the clock reminded her as much. So did a round of knocks on the door.

"Cori, are you in there?"

Shit. It was Mariah.

"Just a second." A quick glimpse across the room toward her friend's bed revealed Mariah's keys. Thank God she had forgotten them today when she left for her shift at the campus bookstore. How embarrassing it would have been if she'd walked in. She'd come close several times before.

Mariah didn't just have a knack for interrupting. Her best friend was punctual, which is why Cori was counting on her to make sure they arrived at the church on time. What a lot of good it did this time. At least she wouldn't be the only one who was late.

Once Dusty stood and grabbed a nearby towel, Cori pulled her panties into place and lowered her skirt. She adjusted the waist to its rightful position then made her way to the door. As she tried taming her unruly waves, she finally gave up and pulled on the handle.

Mariah stood with her hands on her hips tapping her foot against the carpeted hallway. After scanning every inch of Cori, she shook her head.

"I hope to hell you're ready because we'll be late if we don't leave now."

"I'm good to go. I was just waiting for you."

"Mm-hmm." Mariah peeked inside the door then crossed her arms. "So why is Dusty here? Is he keeping you... Never mind. I don't want to know. We gotta' go."

Cori hid her amusement at Mariah's innocence. Her friend wasn't a prude, just a virgin. Having glasses, braces, and pimples throughout high school didn't win her many dates.

Now that those things were gone and the beauty that was always there came through, Mariah was gorgeous. She had every opportunity to lose her cherry to whatever hot guy she wanted. Cori thought for sure it would be Chris, until he ended his relationship with Mariah a few months ago.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the reason why he'd split. Mariah refused to have sex with him. Once Cori found out, she didn't blame Mariah for turning him down. Perhaps she would have said yes if Chris had kept his dick in his pants instead of half of the female freshmen.

"Let me grab my purse."

Before Cori could turn away, Dusty walked up behind her. "Looking for this?"

As he handed Cori her purse, she winked. "I'm sorry, handsome, but I need a rain check for tonight."

"No worries. We kinda have a record when it comes to these interrupted dates. I know where to find you."

Dusty cupped her ass and gave it a firm squeeze before he eased past her and Mariah. "Good to see you, Grant."

"Rowe." Mariah addressed Dusty by his last name, just like he had her.

Had he noticed the same sarcasm Cori heard? He didn't give any sign that he had. His gait was normal as he walked down the hallway of their dorm. Watching him was a special treat. How could it not be with an ass as perfect as his?

"Gawk at him when you have time." Mariah closed the door to their room. "We need to go." She gripped Cori's arm and ushered her down the hall toward the back staircase, in the opposite direction of Dusty.

As disappointed as she was to end her date early, family duty called. Mariah sure as hell wouldn't let Cori get out of going to the rehearsal or the wedding, not that Cori wanted to let down her sister. She just wanted to have some fun.

Making their way to the staircase, they descended the steps to the lower floor. Cori did her best to keep upbeat about the weekend. She owed it to her sister.

After what happened, she was lucky Cassie was speaking to her.

She cringed as memories resurfaced. Cassie's face showed every emotion she felt when Cori confessed to hiding her identity so she could screw Theo McCabe, their former neighbor and close friend of Cassie's.

Cori never had a chance. Theo wasn't interested in anyone but her sister. Deep down, Cori knew the truth. Then Theo revealed his feelings during their brief encounter in the storage closet at the nightclub.

It was one stupid mistake she wanted to forget. If Theo had realized who she was, he wouldn't have gone anywhere with her, much less made out with her amongst boxes of soap, hand towels, and toilet paper. It definitely wasn't romantic.

Thankfully, Cassie forgave her. Now her sister and Theo would spend the rest of their lives together.

So she'd lost her chance to fuck her former crush. It wasn't the end of the world. In fact, it was a blessing in disguise. Had she slept with Theo, there would have been irreparable damage to her and Cassie's relationship. Her sister deserved to be happy. Besides, Cori was getting something out of the fiasco. Come spring, she would have a niece or nephew.

She was excited to be an aunt, and she'd be a hell of a good one. Still, the baby wasn't here yet. Cori had needs, and being a part of the wedding wasn't one of them. All it would do is remind her of her mistakes.

"Cor, I gotta know something." Mariah's voice broke through her thoughts as she went to the driver's side door and gazed over the top of her Mazda. At least her question distracted Cori from an ugly trip down memory lane.

"What do you want to know?"

Mariah grimaced and slightly shook her head. "What is it with Dusty? Why do you mess around with him?"

"I don't know. He's fun, doesn't expect anything but a good time, and he does this thing with his tongue--"

"Okay," Mariah held up her hand, "that's more info than I needed. We don't have time to discuss it anyway. We're going to be late for the rehearsal. Cassie's going to murder you slowly."

"Tell me about it," Cori groaned as she opened the passenger side door and slid into the seat. "I hope you have on your lead shoes."

Mariah shut her door before flashing her heels. "They may not be made of lead, but my foot is. Don't worry, girl. I got you."

As Mariah started the car and backed out of the parking space, Cori laughed to herself. Mariah might be the only virgin she knew, but the girl could be bad when she wanted to, especially behind the wheel of a car. It wasn't just her speeding that made her naughty. It was the way she flirted with the local cops to avoid a ticket. In time, Cori was sure her wild side would rub off on Mariah.

Making their way down the main strip, the impending wedding weighed on Cori. Perhaps she'd be more willing to participate if she had a chance of hooking up with one of the groomsmen. Fat chance of that happening since Theo's bandmates were filling those roles, and one was completely off limits.

She had standards. No way was she screwing a guy with a girlfriend and a child. It wasn't right. God, she hoped her sister hadn't paired her with him. It would be a perfect way for her sister to get revenge. Matching her up with a guy who was already taken.

That left two other possibilities--Theo's best friend and bass guitarist, Jesse, or his drummer, Allen.

While she didn't know much about Allen, she'd known Jesse all of her life. Hell, she and his sister Jamie were close friends all through school, especially high school. She was at their house as much as she was her own.

Cori lost count of how much Jesse used to tease her. He was a lot like Theo in that aspect. Yet, there was a big difference between the two. Jesse acknowledged her for being who she was.

To Theo, she was just Cassie's little sister, and Cassie was the girl he'd always wanted. Jesse treated her like an individual, not some girl in her older sister's shadow. He was more like a big brother and just as protective. At one point, she thought that maybe he . . .

None of that mattered now. It was ages ago. Life had carried them down separate paths.

Neither she nor Jesse talked much the night he and Theo followed her and her friend, Laura, to another club after their band performed at Midnight Blues. He'd spent most of the night at the bar talking to other girls, only giving her a strange look when she came up to get a round of shots. Just like Theo, Jesse had no idea who she was that night.

Though she and Allen had no history, she wasn't interested in him. From what she remembered, he was good-looking, but he was Theo and Jesse's friend. It would be awkward if she slept with him. He wasn't really her type anyway.

So her prospects were slim with the wedding party. No biggie. There would be plenty of other guests. She knew that for a fact after helping Cassie mail out over three hundred invitations. Some of them were addressed to married couples, but plenty were going to unattached men. Her sister had made it a point to tell her and Mariah that fact.

Theo's band was getting famous. He was meeting a lot of people in the industry. Surely one of those men would be worthy of a quick fling. Cori didn't want anything else.

And if none of them caught her attention, she could always seek out Dusty.

*** * * * ***

Jesse read the text once more before tucking his phone in his pocket. He didn't have time for Maggie's shit. His ex-girlfriend loved to fuck with his head every chance she could. Not tonight. He needed to have his shit together. Being a part of Theo's wedding party was enough to deal with.

He hated the thought of wearing a tux, but he couldn't refuse his oldest friend's request. At least he wasn't the best man. That honor went to someone who was responsible enough not to lose the wedding band. With his luck, he would misplace it. Thankfully, Jonah had accepted the task, and being Theo's older brother, the role fit.

Once his phone was secure in his pocket, he glanced at the church, feeling somewhat guilty for being there. It had been many years since he'd stepped foot inside this place. It wasn't from lack of belief. Going to church made him feel like a hypocrite.

He wasn't living the best life. Willful sinning is what his mother called it. While she didn't mean to condemn him, it didn't ease his mind about coming to this place.

The things he did for his friend . . . At least he knew Theo appreciated his being there. In the end, that's what mattered most.

A puff of smoke blew his way when he turned to meet Allen. The cherry on his cigarette burned brightly as he took another drag. The grin on his face made Jesse chuckle.

"Something amusing you, my friend?"

"I just think it's funny how you keep ignoring Maggie's texts. You know she won't leave you alone until you answer her."

"She can text me all she wants. I set my phone to "do not disturb". If she keeps it up, I'll block her."

"You can't block her, man," Allen snickered. "She's Jensen's assistant. He'll tear you a new ass if you don't answer her calls."

"Good thing we aren't inside yet. You'd be damned for cursing in church."

Allen laughed heartily. "Saying _butt_ wouldn't have the same effect." He threw his cigarette against the pavement and stepped on it, never once breaking eye contact. "Dude, I told you not to mess with that chick. She's nuts."

Allen was right about one thing. Maggie was insane, like stalker insane. Guess he was right about more than that. Allen had warned him not to mess around with a label executive's assistant.

Like his friend had room to talk. Jesse couldn't count how many times he'd caught Allen flirting with Nora, the receptionist at the recording studio. She may not be an assistant like Maggie, but she was Cassie's right hand.

If Allen did anything to hurt Nora, Cassie would eat him alive. Then he'd have Theo to answer to. God knows the man was protective of his soon-to-be wife. Hell, Theo had always been protective of Cassie, even before they were a couple.

"You're one to give me crap. I've seen the way you flirt with Nora. You know Cassie will kill you if you mess with her. Of course, that would mean you'd have to grow a set and actually make a move."

He chuckled when Allen flipped him off.

"So what are going to do about Maggie?" Allen surveyed the area around the church. It wasn't his first time in Jesse's hometown of Savannah, but Allen had only left city limits to go to his house. They'd never been in this part of town.

"I don't know what to do to get Maggie off my case. I need to talk to Josh or Joel. Then again, Joel is the one who got me into this mess."

"He didn't tell you to put your dick in her, man."

Jesse grumbled under his breath as he stared at the doors of the church. He knew Allen was right. Joel had nothing to do with his sex life. He was just the one who insisted that Jesse talk to Maggie. Joel had good intentions, but he needed to stick to his day job. He was a kick-ass agent. When it came to matchmaking, he was horrible.

"If I had an answer for your question, I wouldn't be in this mess."

"You know what Theo would suggest, right?" Allen waited until Jess shrugged before he continued. "You need to find a new _flavor_ of the month."

"I don't need to get involved with another woman when the last one is still calling me off the hook. No woman in the world would want to be involved with me under those circumstances, especially when I'm not ready to commit."

Allen scoffed at his response. "You'd be surprised what some women would deal with. Maybe you need to dip your toe back in the waters of your home state and leave those Cajun girls alone."

"You ain't lying," Jesse snorted. He'd definitely had no luck with women while he was living in Louisiana, not that he was searching for a special someone. He made sure women knew that upfront, but it didn't stop them from getting pissy when he ended things.

Still, Maggie was the only one who wouldn't let go. How was he to know that the blonde beauty from Beverly Hills was originally from the Deep South--or batshit crazy for that matter?

Leaning away from the brick wall, Allen slipped his cigarette pack into his jeans and strode closer. "I know you don't want to think about getting involved with someone else, but another girl on your arm may be the only thing that gets through to Maggie. What do you have to lose?"

Jesse pointed to his temple. "Nothing but my sanity."

Before Allen could comment, screeching tires drew their attention to the little red sports car turning into the parking lot. The engine revved a couple times before it shut off. The bass coming from the radio made the windows shake. They steadied when the volume lowered.

The moonless night made it difficult to see who was getting out of the car, but the nearby streetlight was enough for Jesse to notice two feminine figures shutting the door. He heard their giggles too.

"Who in the hell is that?" He muttered the question more to himself than to Allen.

"I'm not sure, dude. Maybe it's your future girlfriend."

Jesse slanted his eyes and gave his friend a menacing look. "Cute, man. You're a fucking comedian tonight."

Allen didn't respond. He was too busy laughing. His gaze flashed back to the approaching women, and he attempted to regain his composure. Something must have worked because it wasn't long before he grew silent. His mouth opened like he was about to say something. The only thing that came out was a grunt.

When Jesse joined him in looking, he understood why his friend was speechless. Two of the most beautiful women were walking their way. And the craziest part was the fact that he knew one of them.

Cori Clarke.

"I'll be damned." He mumbled the words while staring in disbelief. No wonder he hadn't recognized her back in the summer when their band performed at Midnight Blues, or even later when she invited them to party at a different club. If not for Theo explaining what had happened, he still wouldn't believe it was the same person.

His baby sister's longtime friend looked and acted nothing like he remembered. For all he knew, the girl standing next to her was someone he should recognize as well. He'd find out eventually, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the moment.

Cori was approaching him. The young, innocent girl he once knew had grown up, and she was just as gorgeous as her big sister. Scratch that thought. She was way hotter. He'd never thought about Cassie as more than a friend.

And Cassie never made his dick twitch the way Cori did.

Purchase Colliding with Love
About Kelli McCracken

Kelli McCracken is an author of rock star-themed contemporary and paranormal romance. She loves penning a good, sexy romance that will stir emotions and tantalize the senses. Kelli currently has four published series with many projects outlined and ready to be written into page-turning reads.

When she's not writing, chatting with readers, or plotting her next story, Kelli loves to read, listen to music, and most of all, spend time with her family. She resides in Northeast Kentucky, is the mother of four, and has been happily married to her husband, James, for fourteen years.

"Time is the one thing in life that we never get back. Live life to the fullest with no regrets. Seconds chances are rare."

To learn more about Kelli please visit her website or follow her on Bookbub.
The Voyeur Series by Ellis O. Day

When Patrick stumbles across a maid at La Petite Morte Club watching a couple have sex, he can't keep his hands off her. She's cute, sexy and kinky - just the way he likes his women.

Until he discovers that she's the younger sister of one of his best friends which means she's in the "hands off" department.

Annie is tired of guys staying away from her because of her overprotective brother. She's determined to convince Patrick that she should not be off limits and that his hands should definitely be all over her body.

This is a HEA standalone series meant for eighteen and up.
Author Note

I love romance stories but I really love turning the traditional plots upside down. When most folks think of a voyeur, they think of men. Men like to watch...well, sometimes, so do women. That's the case in The Voyeur series. Annie, a young maid who works at La Petite Mort Club accidentally stumbles on a couple in Six Nights of Sin (the first book in the series) who are - shall we say -- pleasurably occupied. From that moment on, Annie likes to watch. She can't help herself -- it's so stimulating, until she gets caught and then it's sooooo much more.

I find it fun to take the normal romance tropes and turn them upside down. I think it works great, but I'd love to hear what you think (AuthorEllisODay@gmail.com). Hope you enjoy Patrick and Annie's romp through La Petite Mort Club.
Annie Gets Caught

Annie finished making the bed and gathered the sheets from the floor, keeping them as far away from her body as possible. These sex rooms were disgusting and Ethan was a jerk making her work as a maid. She almost had her Bachelor's Degree in Culinary Arts, but he'd refused to hire her for the kitchen--too many men in the kitchen. The only job he'd give her at La Petite Mort Club was as a maid and unfortunately, she needed the money too badly to refuse.

She stuffed the dirty sheets into the cart and hurried out the door. She had almost thirty minutes before she had to be at the next "sex room." She hid the cart in a closet and darted down a back hallway, staying clear of the cameras. Julie, the woman who supervised the daytime maids, was a real bitch. If she were caught sneaking away from her duties, she'd be assigned to the orgy rooms every day. Right now, they all took turns cleaning that nightmare. She swore they should get hazard pay to even go in those rooms.

She slipped through a doorway and hurried to the one-way mirror. She stared at the couple in the next room. From her first day here, she'd been curious about the activities at the club. She was twenty-four and wasn't a virgin but she'd never, ever done some of these things.

The woman in the other room was tied to a table, legs spread and wearing some sort of leather outfit that left her large breasts free and her crotch exposed. She'd shaved her private parts and her pink lower lips were swollen and glistening from her excitement. The man strolled around the table as if he had all night. He still had his pants on but had removed his shirt. His arms and chest were well defined but he had a slight paunch. His erection tented his pants and Annie felt wetness pool between her legs. She had no idea why watching this turned her on but it did. Ever since she'd accidentally barged in on that guy and girl in the Interview room, she couldn't stop watching.

The man below ran his hand up the woman's inner thigh, glancing over her pussy. The woman thrust her hips upward and Annie ran her own hand between her legs. The man's mouth moved but Annie couldn't hear anything and then he slapped the woman across the thigh hard enough to leave a red mark. Annie jumped. She wasn't into that, but she couldn't take her eyes off the woman's face. At first, it'd contorted in pain but then it'd morphed into pleasure. The man hit her again and then bent, kissing the red welts--running his tongue across them as his fingers squeezed her nipple.

Annie clutched her thighs together, searching for some relief. Her panties were soaked. It wouldn't take but a few strokes to make her come. She started to slide her hand into her pants.

"Having fun?" asked a deep voice from behind her.

She spun around, her heart dropping into her stomach. "Ah...I was just finishing cleaning in here." Damn, she should've closed the door but she hadn't expected anyone in this area. The rooms were off limits on this floor until tonight and she was the only one assigned to clean here.

He shut the door and locked it before strolling toward her. She'd seen him around the Club, but more than that she remembered him from the military photos her brother, Vic, had sent to her. She carried one of the three of them--Vic, Ethan and this guy, Patrick--in her purse. He'd been attractive in the picture, but now that he was older and in person he was gorgeous. He had dark green eyes, brown hair and a perfect body. He stopped so close to her his chest almost brushed against her breasts. She was pretty sure it would if she inhaled deeply. She really wanted to do that and feel his hard chest rub against her nipples.

"Don't let me stop you from enjoying the show."

"I...I wasn't. I should go." She started to walk past him but he grabbed her hand.

His grip was warm and strong but loose enough that she could pull free if she wanted. She didn't. Even though she only knew him from her brother's pictures and letters, she'd had many fantasies about him when she'd been in high school. Her gaze dropped to the front of his pants and her mouth almost watered. He was definitely interested. She dragged her eyes up his body, stopping on his face. He smiled at her.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Watching turns us all on." He kissed the back of her hand and she jumped as his tongue darted out, tasting her skin.

"I...I should go." She didn't move.

"No, you should watch." He dropped her hand and grabbed her shoulders, gently turning her toward the mirror. He trailed his hands up and down her arms. "Watch."

The man in the other room was now sucking on the woman's breast as his fingers caressed her pussy.

"Would you like to hear them? Or do you like it quiet?" His voice was a rough whisper against her ear.

"Sound, please." She wanted to hear their gasps and moans. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend it was her. She shifted, squeezing her thighs together.

He chuckled as he moved away. She felt his absence to her bones. He'd been strong and warm behind her and for a moment she'd felt safe, safer than she had since her brother had come back from the war, broken and sad, and her father had started drinking again.

The woman's moans filled the room and Patrick came back to stand behind her, this time placing his hands on her waist.

"I'm Patrick," he said against her ear.

She couldn't take her eyes from the scene in front of her. The woman was almost coming as the man thrust his fingers inside of her.

"What's your name?" He nipped her neck and she jumped.

"I...I..." If she told him her name, he might say something to Ethan. Ethan would kill her if he knew she was in here watching.

"Tell me your name." His lips trailed along her neck and she tipped her head giving him better access.

The guy was kissing his way down the woman's body. Annie wanted to touch herself, to make herself come but Patrick was here.

He nibbled her ear. "Why won't you tell me your name?"

"I...I'll get in trouble." She rubbed her ass against his erection, hopefully giving him a hint.

"Tease." His hand drifted down her stomach, stopping right above where she wanted him to touch. "Tell me your name or I'll make you suffer." He unbuttoned her pants and left his hand--warm, rough but immobile--resting on her abdomen.

"I can't." She stood on tip-toe, hoping his hand would lower a little but he was too tall or she was too short. He had to be almost six foot and she was barely five-foot four. "I could get fired and I need this job."

"Darling, Ethan won't fire you for fucking a customer."

"We aren't. We can't." She spun around. She hadn't thought this through. He was her fantasy come to life and she wanted him even if it was only this one time, but Ethan would find out and then she'd be in deep shit.

"Don't worry. I'm a member and you work here, so we're both clean." He hesitated, his hands tightening on her hips. "Are you protected?"

"What?" She had no idea what he was talking about.

"Ethan makes sure everyone at the Club is clean but only the...some of his employees are required to be on birth control." He ran his hands up her sides, getting closer and closer to her breasts. "Are you on birth control?" His gaze dropped to her tits. "If not, it's okay. There are other things we can do."

Oh, she wanted to do everything his eyes promised, but she couldn't. "I'm on the pill but we can't. I need this job. I have to go." She tried to move but her feet refused to obey, so she just stared at his handsome face.

"Are you sure?" He bent so he was almost eye level with her. "I promise. Ethan won't care. A lot of maids become...change jobs. The pay's a lot better." His eyes roamed over her frame. "Especially, for someone as cute as you."

Ethan would kill her before letting her become one of his pleasure associates.

"I could talk to Ethan for you." His hands moved up her body, stopping right below her breasts.

Her nipples hardened and she forgot everything but what he was making her feel. He ran his thumb over one of them and she leaned closer, wanting him to do it again.

He did. He continued rubbing her nipple as he spoke. "I could persuade him to let me...handle your initiation into club life."

Her heart raced in her chest. It could be just her and him doing all these things she'd seen. Her pussy throbbed but she couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it. She couldn't have sex for money. Her parents were both dead but they'd never understand and she couldn't disappoint them. "No. I can't do that...not for money." Her eyes darted to the door. She needed to get out of there before she did something she'd regret.

"That's even better." He smiled as he stepped closer. "We can keep this between us. No money. Only a man and a woman." He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Giving each other pleasure. A lot of pleasure. In ways you haven't even imagined."

There were moans from the other room and she glanced over her shoulder. The man's face was buried between the woman's thighs.

Patrick turned her around, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Are you wet?"

"What? No." She struggled in his arms, her ass brushing against his erection again.

"Oh fuck. Do that again." He kissed her neck, open mouthed and hot.

She stopped trying to get away. She wanted this...this moment. She shouldn't but she did, so she wiggled her butt against him again. He was hard and long and her body ached for him. It'd been too long since she'd had sex. She needed this.

"Would you like me to touch you?" His hands drifted over her hips and down her thighs.

She'd like him to do all sorts of things to her. She nodded.

"Say it." His words were a command she couldn't disobey.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He untucked her shirt from her pants.

"Touch me. Please." She was already pushing her hips toward him. She wanted his hand on her, his fingers inside of her.

"Are you wet?" he asked again.

She inhaled sharply as he unzipped her pants.

"Don't lie to me. I'll find out in a minute."

She'd never talked dirty during sex and she wasn't sure she was ready to do that with a stranger. Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe, she shouldn't be doing any of this with a stranger. She grabbed his hand. "Maybe, we shouldn't."

The woman below cried out and the man straightened, wiping his face and unbuttoning his pants.

"Watch. The main event is about to happen." Patrick's hot breath tickled her neck.

Her gaze locked on the man's penis. It was large and demanding. He straddled the woman, grabbing his cock.

"Don't you want to feel some of what they feel?" He nibbled on her ear and then neck. "I can help you."

She may not know him, but she trusted him. He was a former marine. He'd been a good friend of Vic's. He wouldn't hurt her and she needed to come. She let go of his hand and he slipped inside her pants, caressing her pussy through her underwear. His fingers were long and strong. She closed her eyes, leaning against him as he stroked her.

"You're already so wet and hot." His breath was a warm caress on her ear. "But, I'm going to make you wetter and then, I'm going to make you come." His other hand shoved her pants down, giving him more room to work. "Open your eyes and watch the show."

She did as he said. The man was inside the woman, thrusting hard and fast. The woman was moaning and trying to move but the restraints kept her mostly helpless.

"Fuck, you're soaked." Patrick's hand cupped her and she arched into his touch, rubbing her ass against his erection. He shoved his hand inside her underwear, his finger running along her folds until he slipped one inside.

"Oh." She grabbed his hand--not to push him away, but to make sure he didn't leave.

He smiled against her hair. "Don't worry, baby. I won't stop."

As he stroked his finger inside of her, his hand brushed against her clit, but she wanted more. She needed to touch him, feel him. She turned her head, wrapping her arms up and around his neck. He kissed her. It was desperate and wild, but he stopped too soon.

"They're almost done. You don't want to miss it."

She turned back to the mirror. The man below continued to fuck the woman as Patrick finger-fucked her. His other hand slipped under her shirt to her breast. His lips sucked her neck as he rocked his erection against her ass. He was everywhere, and she was so close. The muscles in her legs constricted. Her hips tipped upward.

"Wait, baby," he groaned in her ear, as he pushed a second finger inside of her. "Just a few more minutes."

His fingers were stretching her and it felt wonderful. She moaned, long and low as he thrust harder and faster, almost matching the pace of the man in the other room. She could almost imagine it was Patrick's cock and not his fingers inside of her.

"Oh...oh," she cried out. He was pushing her toward the edge. Her body was spiraling with each pump of his fingers. She was going to come--right here while watching that couple. It was so dirty and so wrong and it only made her hotter.

The woman below screamed and her body stiffened. The man thrust again and again and then grunted his release.

"Show's over." Patrick nipped her neck at the same time he pressed down on her clit with his thumb, sending her shooting into her orgasm.

She trembled and he pulled her close, his hand still cupping her pussy and his fingers still inside of her. When her heartbeat had settled, he removed his hand and bent, pulling off her shoes and removing her pants before lifting her and carrying her to the wall.

"My turn." He wrapped her legs around his waist.

Her phone rang. "My work phone. I...I have to answer it."

"When we're done." He unzipped his pants.

"Annie, answer the phone. I know you're around here. I can hear it ringing you stupid bitch," yelled Julie.

"Oh, shit." She shoved Patrick away, and ran across the room, grabbing her clothes off the floor. "It's my boss. She'll kill me if she finds me like this."

"I'll take care of Julie." He headed for the door, zipping up his fly. "Don't move." He grinned over his shoulder at her. "You can take off your pants again, but other than that, don't move."

"No. Please." She raced over to him, grabbing his arm. "I need this job." And Ethan could not find out about this.

"She won't fire you. She can't. Only Ethan can fire you." He bent and kissed her.

His lips were gentle and coaxing this time and her body swayed into him. He pulled her even closer and she could feel his cock, thick and heavy, pushing against her. Her pussy tightened again in anticipation.

"Damnit, Annie. This is going to be so much worse if I have to call your stupid phone again. Get out here!" Julie was only a few doors down.

She tugged on Patrick's hand. "Please, hide." She glanced around, looking for somewhere that would conceal a six-foot muscular man.

"I'm not going to hide from Julie."

"Shhh, lower your voice." She pulled him toward the wall by the mirror where the curtain hung.

He stopped moving, refusing to let her lead him, but he did lower his voice. "I told you, I'll take care of Julie." He caressed her cheek. "You don't have to be afraid. You won't lose your job."

"Damnit." She shoved him. "You don't understand." He didn't know who she was. He didn't know about her and Ethan's history. "I'm going to lose this job, my chance for a career and my home." Her voice cracked and tears welled in her eyes. Ethan would try and force her to take his money but she wouldn't. She wasn't her father. She would not accept his charity. "All because...because..." It was too humiliating to say out loud. She was horny and had wanted to watch two people get it on. She was such a freak.

"Hey, don't cry." He wiped a tear from her cheek. "I won't let any of that happen. I promise."

The doorknob turned. "Annie, I know you're in there. Open this door."

"Please, hide." She was begging and by the disgusted look he sent her it wasn't doing any good and then he sighed and moved past her.

"You owe me big time for this." He slipped into the bunched up curtains, that would cover the mirror when they were closed.

"Thank you, and be quiet." She pulled on her shoes, hurried to the door and opened it. "Julie, were you looking for me?" She tried to look innocent or perhaps stupid, but Julie's hard, blue eyes skimmed over her.

"Who's in here with you? If you're fucking one of the kitchen or maintenance staff you're both fired." Julie pushed past her and strode into the room.

The woman was as wide as she was tall and Annie hated her--not because of her looks but because she was a tyrant.

"There's no one here but me." She glanced at where Patrick hid, praying he'd stay put and that Julie wouldn't somehow sniff him out. She swore Julie could scent out men a mile away.

Julie stopped near the mirror. She was only a few feet away from Patrick. Annie's heart tried to escape from her throat.

"So, you're a voyeur." Julie spun around. "I should've guessed. Curious but afraid, just like a little mouse." She walked toward Annie, her ample hips swaying as her eyes roamed over Annie's form. "You're a bit rumpled. Rubbed one out, did you?"

Annie's face heated. _Not exactly._

"Come with me. We're going to tell Ethan all about this."

"No. Please don't. I'll clean the orgy room for a month, two months." She followed Julie out of the room and down the hallway. Ethan couldn't find out about this. It'd be too embarrassing. He was like a brother to her.
Patrick's Turn For Fun

Patrick waited until Julie's voice faded down the hallway before stepping out from behind the curtain. If Ethan or Nick, or God forbid Terry, found out about this, he'd never live it down. He was a former marine for fuck's sake and he was hiding from Julie. What had he been thinking? Oh, that's right, he hadn't been. All he'd been able to do was stare at those big, brown eyes, begging him for help and he'd melted like ice cream in an oven. He tugged at the front of his pants. Well, not all of him had melted.

He glanced at the open door. He could close it and jerk off, but he wasn't in the mood. He wanted her--Annie. The name fit. She was warm and friendly. He grinned. She'd certainly been friendly with him. He'd have to talk to Ethan and make sure she didn't lose her job. She hadn't wanted him to say anything but she didn't understand that Ethan wouldn't have any problem with a sexy, little maid becoming one of the Club's pleasure associates. It happened all the time.

He strolled to the door, frowning a bit. Usually, Ethan broke the girls into club life. That wouldn't work this time. He wanted Annie and he wanted her before Ethan taught her about all the pleasures the Club had to offer. He'd pay Ethan whatever his friend wanted, but he'd found her. She was his little voyeur.

His dick hardened even more at the memory. She'd been so engrossed with watching the other couple she hadn't even heard him. He'd show her things she'd never even dreamed and then when she was panting for release, he'd tease her and finally fuck her. She'd been so tight and so receptive earlier. He'd barely touched her and she'd come all over his hand. He ran his fingers under his nose, inhaling her scent. She'd pay for making him hide behind the curtains but right now, he was late for his meeting with Ethan.

He headed down the hallway and stopped outside of Ethan's private office. He grinned. There she was--his little voyeur. Annie was sitting on the couch in the waiting room looking miserable. She was too cute to be that unhappy. With her long, black hair pulled up in a ponytail, her large brown eyes and hot, little body, his dick, which had been starting to relax, perked right back to attention. Soon, the two of them were going to finish what they'd started.

Be there when Patrick discovers his little voyeur is his best friend's sister. Purchase The Voyeur Series.
About Ellis O. Day

Ellis O. Day grew up with her nose buried in books and now enjoys writing the kind of stories she loves to read. Romance--the steamier the better. She believes that the cornerstones of all great romantic relationships are: love and friendship, trust, attraction and fabulous sex. Her stories contain all of these (especially the last one).

Learn more about Ellis at her website or follow her on Bookbub.
Tap That! by Tracey Pedersen

**She's avoided him since high school. Now she needs his help.**

Mimi Fletcher needs $50,000 to rebuild the youth hall where she volunteers. Insurance won't pay and she's out of ideas. Until the day scorching hot Jasper Collins lounges in her office doorway and her friend wonders out loud what's under his overalls. Sexy and clever, Jasper quickly tricks Mimi into dating him in return for his help getting the rest of his crew to take their clothes off for charity.

When he demands certain conditions be attached to his help, Mimi soon discovers he has a plan to win her over and finally take her to bed. But does she want to be another notch on this hot fireman's bedpost? Should she let her guard down and have a bit of fun, knowing he'll soon move on to his next conquest?

Can Mimi and Jasper join forces and raise the money they need, without Mimi's heart melting from the heat between them?
Author Note

When I first started the Men About Town series I had the crazy idea to write under a male pen name. I soon ditched that thought when I realised I actually _wasn't_ a man, and I didn't want to interact with readers as one. I hope you enjoy the results of my minor identity crisis!

Happy reading,

Tracey
Can She Resist Him?

"How much do we need?"

"A lot. Well over fifty thousand dollars."

"Wow. It's expensive to survive a community disaster, these days." Mimi Fletcher bit her lip as she ran over their options in her head. "Are you absolutely certain the insurance won't pay?"

"Yes. We've claimed and been knocked back. We've appealed their rejection, too. They say our policy didn't cover arson, since we knew the person starting the fire."

"That little shit," Mimi muttered under her breath. "Who the hell sets fire to the hall they spend half their time in?"

Alyssa sighed, "These kids have a difficult time. When he was banned for those few days, he saw it as another rejection in his life." She got up to open the office door. "I can't even say I blame him."

"Well, I blame h--" a large body appeared in the doorway, stopping her sentence mid-thought.

Dark features, three day-old stubble, and perfect, white teeth smiled a huge, cocky grin. "Hi there, ladies." He inclined his head, "Mimi."

She sighed at the sight of that smart-ass grin levelled at her and waved her arms toward the door. "Jasper, Alyssa. Alyssa, meet Jasper."

He stepped into the room and clasped Alyssa's hand before she could speak. "Well, hello. I'm one of the firies who helped put out the blaze and I'm here to do a walk-through with my crew. Do you have any problems with us accessing the site?" He flashed them his magnificent smile again.

"Uhh... no, that's fine," Alyssa stuttered. "Give me a second and I'll be right with you."

He nodded at Mimi again and backed out the door. Alyssa banged it shut and leaned against it. "That man is a god. Did you see those teeth?" she hissed.

Mimi giggled, "I did not miss the thing of beauty that just left this office. He is divine."

"How do you know him?"

"We went to the same high school."

"I wonder what's under those yellow overalls."

As Mimi laughed, her eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"I want to know if he has bulging biceps under his clothes!" Alyssa squealed.

Mimi stood and walked toward her. She grabbed her shoulders as she grinned at her friend. "I think you might have just solved our money problems."

"Uhh... how?"

"If we can talk Jasper and his crew into stripping down for a calendar, we can sell them to make the money we need."

"Will anyone buy that? There's already a firemen calendar."

"There is, but this will be a calendar featuring _our_ firemen-- _our_ heroes who put out _our_ fire and saved _our_ community hall from total annihilation." She stepped to the window where the firemen were piling out of the truck. "We just need some of the crew to be hot enough for the calendar--they don't all have to be sexy. Locals will enjoy seeing people they know embarrassing themselves, too." She watched as the group in yellow went in the direction of the half-burned hall. She then spun around to face Alyssa. "This is a great idea. I know it will work."

"Well, you'll have to ask them, first. Fingers crossed that they say yes."

"Oh, Jasper will say yes. He loves himself more than anyone I've ever met. I also haven't seen him in any of the other calendars, and I bet he's dying to be in one. Come on, let's get out there and schmooze. All we need to do is be friendly; once they're on our side, they won't be able to say no."

* * * * *

"Hey, Collins," Jasper turned his head at the sound of his last name. "What are you looking at?"

He didn't answer as his eyes followed the two women walking across the carpark toward the hall. Alyssa was cute, but Mimi Fletcher caught his eye--she always had. He'd watched her like this in high school, too, always from a distance and never daring to make a move, since she was oblivious to him.

She hadn't been one of those girls who chased after boys. Instead, she'd concentrated on her studies and graduated at the top of their class. She was the same once she'd left, always achieving and never giving him the time of day the few times they'd run into each other at a nightclub or in the supermarket.

Living and working in the same neighbourhood you grew up in had some advantages, but Mimi was not one of them, it turned out. He watched her now, clad in tight, denim jeans, ankle boots, and an oversized, knitted jumper. Her unruly hair tumbled down her back and blew around her face as the wind picked up the long strands.

_What I wouldn't give to run my fingers --_

"Hey, dude." Fingers snapped in front of his eyes. "Earth to Jasper, we have work to do." Ruben slapped him on the back and grabbed his chin as he tore his eyes away from her. "Man, you've got it bad for her. I thought you were cooler than that."

Jasper slapped his hand away and turned back to the hall. "Piss off. I do not have a thing for her. I was watching those kids playing basketball." He inclined his head in the direction of the courts as Ruben smiled knowingly.

"Sure, sure. Anyway, lover boy, where do you want to start?"

"I want you to take Jason and Frankie through the site. They haven't seen this kind of fire before, so make sure you show them where it started and how we came to that conclusion. They've already read the report on it, but I want them to see it."

"Will do." Ruben stepped away and stage-whispered over his shoulder, "Here she comes! Look uninterested."

Jasper rolled his eyes and fiddled with the hose fitting on the side of the truck.

_What the hell am I doing? We're not even taking the hoses out today. Get a grip, man!_

He turned just as the women arrived behind him. "Ah, you're here. We're going to run a short training session for our two new guys and then we'll make sure the site is still safe. You have a lot of kids coming here every day; I'm sure they've been tempted to poke through the remains."

Alyssa smiled at him, "You're right: we've chased kids out of here several times in the last week."

"You should get a fence put up, so you don't have to worry so much. They'll probably still get in, though. Any idea when you'll start the repairs, or are you just going to knock it down?"

"Well, we have several problems." Mimi held up her hand, and he noticed her perfectly manicured nails. "One, our insurance won't pay--they're getting out on a technicality. Two, because of that, we have to find a way to raise fifty grand. Three, we need the hall by the end of the year, because we had a huge concert planned and we don't want to disappoint the kids."

"Phew. That's a lot of problems." He turned back to the truck to close the panel he'd been fiddling with. Looking into those green eyes as she spoke was doing something to his insides. "Let us know if there's anything we can help with. I could probably get the boys here for a working bee or something."

"Well, actually," she bit her lip, unsure of whether to go on. Jasper was hot, but was he really so shallow that he'd want to be in a calendar on display for the entire neighbourhood? Maybe this was a terrible idea.

_Think of the kids._

"We think we have a way you can help us raise the money," she blurted out before she could change her mind.

"Oh? How?" He turned that brilliant smile on them and both women felt their knees turn to jelly.

"We want to make a community firemen calendar." She rushed on before he could protest, "Just the crew from your station--a celebration of the team who saved the hall from having to be demolished."

Jasper's mouth fell open, as though he'd expected any suggestion but this. When he looked from Alyssa's pleading smile to Mimi's confident grin, he felt his original answer die on his lips. He still had an easy way to get out of this, though. "Fifty grand is a lot of calendars. You'll never sell enough."

"We will--we totally will." Mimi's eyes pleaded.

"How many calendars do you need to sell to make your target?"

"I haven't worked that out, yet. I just had the idea ten minutes ago."

His eyes brightened, and his smile turned wicked as he said, "About the same time I appeared in your doorway?"

She blushed and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Of course not."

Alyssa chimed in to save her, "We were already discussing it when you showed up."

"Sure you were." He grinned at them both, his usual confidence returning.

_She's about to fall right into my hands._

"Let's say you can keep expenses down and talk the boys into getting their gear off. If you make five dollars per calendar, you have to sell ten thousand to this small community. Can you do that?"

"Ten thousand," Mimi considered that number for a moment. "Yes, I think we can do it. If we can make even more per item, we can get away with selling less. I know a photographer--I'll ask her to donate her time."

"That's a good start." He was still grinning at them both.

"I have a friend who works for a printer. We might be able to get mate's rates on the printing." Alyssa started to flick through her phone contacts as she spoke.

"Even better," Mimi said, watching as he licked his lips.

_What is he up to?_

"I wonder if the boys will agree."

"You can talk them into it, Jasper. That's what you do." Mimi wasn't above building him up a little to get him on her side.

"Do I?"

"Yes," she stammered, wanting to take a step back as his gaze ran all over her.

Before she could say anything else, though, he turned to Alyssa. "Could you excuse us for a minute?"

"Um, of course." Her brow creased and she glanced at her friend before she slipped away to join the firemen sifting through the blackened remains of the hall.

Mimi glanced at Jasper, worried about why he would want her alone. She'd avoided him throughout high school and barely acknowledged him when she saw him in their neighbourhood. She'd also avoided staring at him whenever they found themselves socialising in the same place. There was nothing private he could have to say to her.

_Don't say no to this plan, now that there's no one here to think you're the bad guy._

Instead, Jasper reached out to take her arm and guided her closer to the fire truck until her back was pressed against it and no one could see them. As he placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned in close, she noticed his breath smelled of mint. His eyes twinkled as he took in her discomfort. "So, you want me to take my clothes off for you?"

"Not for me," she gasped, "for the calendar... as a fundraiser."

"Oh, I heard that part. I'm just wondering what excuse you would have used to get me to strip if your hall hadn't burned down." He grinned as she turned scarlet. "You didn't burn the hall down, did you, Mimi--you know, as the perfect cover?"

She pushed against his chest to put some space between them and immediately realised her mistake. He captured both her hands in one of his and leaned closer. His breath tickled her nose, and her insides clenched into a tight knot. If he got much closer, she'd forget how to speak!

"I'm not even going to answer that," she whispered, trying to catch her breath.

His grin stretched even wider and her insides dropped to her toes at his next words. "I'll take my clothes off for you, sweet Mimi, with three conditions."

"What conditions?" she gulped out the words.

He took a strand of her curly hair and ran it through his fingers. "First, you have to be present for all the photo shoots." He wasn't looking her in the eye, which made it easier for her to answer. She had no trouble being at the photo shoots, so she nodded her agreement. Satisfied, he continued with his list of demands, "Second, my photo shoot has to be first."

His finger was still wrapped in her hair, but it moved to trace a line smoothly down her cheek. She gasped and looked up into his eyes, his touch almost burning her skin. "Why?" she breathed.

"Oh, you'll find out."

She gulped again and closed her eyes for a second, trying to restore her equilibrium. He was so close to her--closer than he'd ever been--and she could barely focus. He stood straighter and moved so his body was just touching hers.

She tried to shrink against the fire truck, but it was no use: his bulging chest brushed her hands where he held them tight, and she couldn't even let her mind consider what else was touching her, now. All these years she'd ignored him, only for it to come to this pathetic display of the effect he had on her.

"What's the third condition?" she managed to squeeze out, hoping it wouldn't be the thing that undid her.

"Well," he paused and moved an inch closer--enough to make the heat from his skin engulf all of her senses. Her legs wobbled as he held her upright between him and the truck. "You need to agree to five dates with me."

Her gasp drew his eyes to her lips as she watched him lick his own. "Why five?"

"Five is just the right amount." He tilted his head as he heard his name being called from the hall. "I need to get back to work. So, decide: are you in or out?" She looked uncertain, so he went in for the kill, knowing she couldn't resist. "Think of the children, Mimi."

The way her name rolled off his lips made her mouth water. Before today, she'd never heard him say it--especially not in the way he was saying it now, with those eyes boring into hers and their mouths just inches apart.

"I'll say yes, but I want one condition of my own." Her eyes narrowed just a fraction as his widened at her sudden bravado. "You know, to be fair."

He let go of the single strand of hair and tucked his hand behind her head to grasp a handful of the auburn mess. When his fingers touched the skin on the back of her neck, she shivered. "Okay, tell me your condition. I'm sure I'll agree." He grinned at her again, his cockiness restored.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

The look on his face would have made her laugh if she wasn't poised, ready for him to ravage her. Lust, need, and surprise all crossed his features at once. When they settled on one expression, he looked shocked, but pleased. His hand was already in her hair; it was only another inch or two and his lips would be on hers. Her high school fantasy would suddenly become a reality--one she'd only dared imagine in her dreams.

"Can't wait for the first date, eh?" His fingers tightened in her hair. "Don't you think we should abstain until at least then?"

"No." She was breathless. He needed to do it now--she might not ever be brave enough to kiss him again. "Maybe we aren't compatible for a date. It's best to check." She kept her sentences short, in case she started gushing to him about all the times she'd imagined him kissing her.

"Hmm," he leaned in and his lips lightly grazed her left cheek, "you don't think we'll be compatible?"

Her heart took off in a hammering crescendo. "I didn't say that. I said we should check."

She felt him smile against her skin, and just when she expected him to pull away and deny her brazen request, his lips slid sideways and pressed lightly against hers.

Fireworks went off in her brain, and he let go of her hands and hooked his finger in the loop of her jeans. As her hips pressed tightly against him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His tongue slipped between her lips without a second of hesitation; his mouth was warm, and he tasted as sweet as his breath had smelled.

Her eyes closed, and she sighed as she kissed him with all the fervour he was bestowing on her. Someone was moaning softly, and Mimi was shocked to realise it was him. The sound shocked her back to reality, and she pulled away.

Laughing, she tried to catch her breath, and he looked hurt for a moment. She hadn't expected him to want a date, much less agree to kiss her, and her mouth let the words out before she could stop them. "That was not what I expected!"

"Why not? What did you expect?"

"I have no idea, but not that." She laughed again, and relief swept through her as he stepped away, scratching the back of his head and looking uncertain for the first time she could remember.

"I guess we should join the others." His tone showed his annoyance, and she felt bad for laughing. It was her defence mechanism, though; when she was embarrassed or uncertain, she laughed.

"Okay. Will you ask them about the calendar idea?"

He frowned as they fell into step beside each other. "I think I'll wait until later."

"Fine. I'll get to know them in the meantime." Silence stretched out between them as she made small talk to distract herself from the memory of his lips on hers. "Why five dates?"

_Wrong choice of topic for distraction!_

"I thought you'd negotiate down to two or three. Ten sounded like a ridiculous starting bid."

"I might have agreed to ten." Again, the words were out before she had time to consider their effect.

Jasper's reaction was immediate as she watched the familiar cockiness return to his features. She veered toward Alyssa and he swaggered toward his group of firemen and threw over his shoulder, "I'd have been thrilled with one."

* * * * *

Watching Mimi get friendly with his crew for the next hour annoyed Jasper to no end. The sound of her laughter carried to him more than once as he ran through the site specifics with Frankie and Jason. Just one month into their full-time employment, there was a lot they still needed to learn. Unlike most other careers, on-the-job training as a fireman could get you killed.

He watched as Ruben explained what to look for to determine the cause of a fire. The investigation for this one was already complete, so it was easier to show the clues and say exactly what they meant. The new recruits watched with interest, and Jasper chuckled as he saw Frankie's fingers tapping on his leg.

"Impatient to get past the tutorial?" he asked, slapping him on the shoulder.

"No, it's not that. I just really like to take notes; I want to write all of this down and review it later."

"School was the time for note taking, but we're on the job now--hands on." He grinned as Frankie frowned. "Relax, I'm teasing you. You'll have plenty of time to take notes. Next time, slip a notepad into the truck and grab it whenever you need it. Don't put it in your pocket and forget about it, though." He tapped the yellow coat Frankie wore. "You don't want a mini fire inside your suit!"

Shrieks of laughter floated across the remains of the building, and he turned again to see Mimi laughing at something Shawn was telling her.

_Keep that up and you won't be in the calendar, mate!_

Gritting his teeth, he turned back to see Ruben smirking at him. "Don't say a damn word," he growled before storming back to the truck.

* * * * *

It was nearly four o'clock before they were ready to leave the site and Jasper hadn't managed to pin Mimi down to organise their date. As his crew pulled themselves into the truck, he made a final effort to get her alone. He found her giggling at the back of the vehicle at Shawn's latest joke.

Jealousy flared in his stomach, but he reminded himself he had no claim on her.

_Claim or not, this has to stop._

"Shawn, are you ready?"

The man patted her shoulder and gathered the tools at his feet. "Sure am, Boss. Give me a minute and I'll be there."

"Great. Mimi, can I speak to you before I go, please?"

Wide eyes turned on him, and he knew with certainty she had been avoiding him all afternoon. He hadn't just imagined her moving away each time he almost had her alone. He hadn't imagined her being overly friendly with the crew and following them to avoid standing with him, either. He'd never seen her behave this way; she was usually reserved and kept to herself.

"I see you can schmooze with the best of them."

She laughed and immediately confessed. "I figured I'd get in their good books, so when you float the idea of the photo shoot, they'll want to do me a favour."

"As long as that's all it was about."

"Are you jealous, Jasper?" Her direct question startled him.

"Maybe. I didn't want your dance card full before we had a chance to make our plans."

"Ahh... the famed five dates. Okay, when do you want the first round to take place?"

"How about tonight?"

"You're keen, huh?" It was Mimi's turn to be cocky. She stuck out her hip and lifted her hand to blow on her nails while she waited for a reply.

The nonchalant gesture sent an instant reaction down his spine, and it hit straight between his legs. Watching her tease him sent a flush through him--a sensation he was unfamiliar with. Usually he was the one who controlled the banter, but here she was, taking him on at his own game. A tiny part of him liked it, and he licked his lips at the thought of their upcoming date. When he'd asked her out, he'd thought she was the reserved, sensible girl he remembered from high school. Her antics today proved she was so much more than that. So much more of a challenge.

Reminding himself that he held the power whenever she was close, he pulled her toward him. Her hand dropped, and she looked up in surprise. Confident he was about to take control of their sexy tug-of-war, he moved to whisper in her ear, "I know what you're doing and it won't work. We're doing the five date thing."

"What do you mean?" she breathed. "What am I doing?"

"You're tempting me, for one, and I suspect you tried to make me jealous today, laughing and fawning over everyone but me. I'm not immune, you know."

"I hope not." She pushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead and wondered how much teasing he'd endure once he joined the men in the truck. "I wasn't teasing you on purpose--that was just an added benefit. I really was trying to network with the boys. We need the calendar."

"I know you do, and I said I'd help. That's not at the top of my agenda right now, though. Can I pick you up tonight? Chris's café has an awesome menu on Thursday nights I've been dying to try."

"The café on the corner in the junction? I can meet you there, if you'd like."

"Are you insisting, or do I have a choice?" It was his turn to push her hair out of her eyes as a breeze kicked up. He resisted the urge to smile as she jumped.

"Give me your phone." He handed it over, and as her fingers moved over the screen, he could have sworn he heard a cheer from the direction of the truck. "There you go. Get me at six thirty--that should give me time to get home and shower."

"I could come early," promise glittered in his eyes, "and help you wash your back, or something."

She leaned forward to brush her lips lightly against his. "Play your cards right and I just might let you do that one day."

Heat burst through him again, but it was quickly extinguished as she pulled away and let the cold air rush into her place. Before he could say another word, she'd set off across the bitumen toward the tiny office, leaving him standing there with his mouth hanging open.

At that exact moment, Ruben leaned out of the truck and called, "Hey, lover boy, we've had enough of the show. Let's go!"

What happens next? Purchase Tap That!
About Tracey Pedersen

Tracey Pedersen is an Australian author who has finally accepted that she is meant to write, write, write! In 2016 she released her first eight romance novels as well as three non-fiction titles and six books under a separate pen name. Now writing full time and fighting the urge to make up stories every second of the day, she loves travel, crocheting, scrapbooking, replying to reader emails and spending WAY too much time on Facebook.

To learn more about Tracey visit her website or follow her on Bookbub.
Cry For You by Shaniel Watson

You know how the story goes. Don't you?

Boy meets girl. Eyes lock, they fall in love, live happily ever after.

Not this story.

Lacey baby, was what he called me. He said I was too young for him but who cares, we were both young. He stopped resisting and we fell in love.

I thought we were going to be forever. We were. Until the unthinkable happened savagely ripping through us, ripping us apart, and forever turned in to never.

He was gone. I was left to pick up the shredded pieces. Punished for the life inside me I couldn't give up. The very thing I didn't know would bring me out of darkness years later, could be the very thing that brings us together again for a second chance.

If we can only survive the ripple effects of the pain of the past and what lies ahead...
Author Note

Cry For You is a standalone second chance romance. Lacey and Landon are two people learning to forgive and move on with their lives, putting the pieces back together after devastating events change everything, for not only them but their families. Then one day surprisingly, they find themselves back together again. They must try to let go of fear and take a chance on love if they ever want a chance at a happy ending. Some readers have said, "this one was an emotional rollercoaster, but so worth the ups and downs!"
You Never Know What You Can Handle Until It Comes Your Way

Lacey

"Mama, how did you and my daddy meet?" he asks, the way he would ask for a lollipop: a simple, casual conversation. For most people. Never taking his eyes from his show, like it's nothing.

"Well..." I put my book aside and look down at him, tucked into my arms, his eyes still glued to the screen. I'm not exactly sure what I should say. He's asked vague questions before, but this is the first direct one. I take that fortifying breath I need to go through with this, letting it settle in me. I knew this was coming, but it's sooner than I expected. But then again...guess not. I should probably be surprised it wasn't sooner.

One day he's a baby, and now here I am. He wants to know who he comes from. Which also happens to be the most painful time in my life. I draw it out as long as I can before he turns his big, deep brown eyes to me, full of questions. I look into those dark pools, and I'm filled with past and present fears. They are the eyes of the man he wants to know about, who was my living, breathing nightmare, haunting me night and day for so many years. I'll try, for him.

"I was a girl who liked a guy, but was too shy to tell him. Your Aunty Shay wasn't shy, though. She solved the problem for me."

"What did she do, Mama?"

I think back, a faint smile on my lips. I continue the story, editing out the not-for-kids parts. "She was dating a guy who was friends with him. She walked right up to him, at the diner everyone went to after school..."

~Then~

"Hey, my sister likes you. When are you going to go on a date with her?"

I was mortified.

He took a peek around her, and I heard him say, "Isn't she a little young for you to be handing off to me?"

"Don't be such a wuss. She's seventeen and a senior."

"Like I said, I don't want to go to jail."

"Keep your junk in your pants, and you won't."

"You're talking to the wrong guy."

"Do you need another look?"

"Let me get one more--see if she's worth potentially losing my freedom."

She shifts to the side to give him a better look, holding out her hand towards me then moving back, blocking his view. "Keep it in your pants for a couple more months. There'll be no time served."

"I didn't date high school girls when I was in high school."

"She's going to be the fucking exception to your rule. My sister's hot."

"She's cute."

"The offer's going once, going twice...take another fucking look before you miss your chance. I'm going to have Trigg all over your ass," she threatens.

"Shay, we both know Trigg doesn't give a shit if I take your sister out. But since you're so desperate to foist your little sis off on me, I'll do it, because I like you more than any of the other girls he's messed around with. Plus, she's cute. But you owe me one."

"Whatever. Gimme your phone. By the way, don't be an asshole like Trigg; try to be somewhat on time."

"Don't tell me how to do a date, and I won't tell you about your screwed-up relationship with my roommate." Sneering at him, she walks back to our table, flipping him off.

He laughs. "Remember, you're my favorite, Shay."

I'm embarrassed and pissed. "You made me seem like a desperate freak that couldn't get a date if she tried. The only reason he's going to go out with me is because you threatened him!"

"You'll thank me. This could be the beginning of a beautiful, two-week relationship. What more could you ask for? You're welcome."

She was right about the beauty, but not about its staying power. It lasted way past two weeks, but not nearly long enough for either of us.

* * * * *

Landon

"Jackson, we can't wait. Your mom's waiting on us at your grandpa's."

"Please, Daddy, please. We can't leave him alone. He's my best friend."

"He's not alone. Your teacher's with him. I'm sure his parents will pick him up soon."

"Dad, his grandma picks him up. Sometimes she's late. I'll tell mom it's my fault we're late, and I won't ask for anything else this week. Not extra dessert, not to stay up late--"

I look down at the jumping bean in front of me and smile. At least he's a good friend. "We'll stay with him for a little bit, but if his grandmother isn't here in ten minutes, we have to go. Your mom is going to kick my don't say."

"I won't say, but I know." He laughs, running off to his friend. It's amazing how fast kids make friends. Two weeks into the school year, and he's already made a best buddy. If only it was that simple for grown-ups.

Nine, not ten. Nine minutes and I'm blown back in time. I see her, and it's all changed, but she's the same. Slow, slow, quick, quick quick--the beating in my chest. She was the best thing to ever happen to me. The worst thing I ever experienced, when I lost her. I'm paralyzed with thoughts and emotions, memories I try so hard to forget but are forever with me. Bitter and sweet mixed into one, as I watch her talking to my son and his friend.

Snapping out of my daze, my feet move one in front of the other, taking me closer with each step to a place and a person I once knew so well but who is a stranger to me now. And it's clear and heartbreaking when I hear, "Mommy, this is my friend, Jackson."

I approach them with her back turned to me. I place my hand on my son's shoulders. In a heart-stopping moment, her head turns and her eyes meet mine. She was supposed to be my life; she was my everything, and my feelings have not changed. One look into eyes as dark as mine, with flecks of gold, confirms it. The memories, the tastes, and the sight of her long, black hair choke me with so much--I can't speak. Her lips part, but no words come. Her eyes well and blink, scanning my face. I have no words. Just regret for the past, love in the present, and the overwhelming need to apologize, to tell her I know I let her down.

"Mom!"

"Dad, hello?"

I look down at my son and realize they're talking to us. I clear my throat and do my best to focus. "Yeah, son?"

"This is my friend, Jacob, and his mom."

My eyes drift back over to the little boy standing next to him. Same height, about the same age, a mop of black hair, same as Jackson's, both dressed in sneakers, jeans, T-shirt, about the same size. Just a little boy. No monster. Just a little boy, the same as Jackson. The only exception--the eyes--those are not the same. Not hers.

Her hands go around him in a protective gesture, pulling him back toward her. My head turns to her. I see a spark of something--I can't place if it's anger or something else. Her body is relaxed, but her lips come together in a tight smile. I understand. I smile at her and hold my hand out. "Hi, Lacey."

She hesitates then takes it. "Hello, Landon."

Nothing like the first touch, a fusion of sparks. She quickly pulls back. My phone rings, and I reach into my pocket to answer it. "Hello. We're on our way. We'll be there soon." Not breaking eye contact with her, I tell Jackson, "We have to go. Your mom's waiting for us." I take one last look at her and then I look at the little boy she's still holding against her. I smile and hold my hand out to him. "Jacob, it's nice to meet you. Jackson talks about you all the time. I hear a lot of good things about you. He says you're the fastest runner in the whole school--next to him, of course."

A smile lights up his face when he agrees and says, "Jackson and me are tied."

I ruffle his hair and say, "That's fair of you. See you around, Jacob. Lacey." She smiles a genuine smile this time, loosening her hold on her son, just a little.

You know when you're not looking for something--you're not expecting it--and it inexplicably drops into your lap? That's Lacey.

_~Then~_

"What do you know of life, young Lacey?"

"I know stuff," she says, with more confidence than I believe she has. "I was born, and I'm here. I'm still alive after seventeen years. I must know something."

"Staying alive for seventeen years with the help of your parents isn't what I would call life experience and survival of the fittest."

"Says you."

"You haven't experienced much of life, have you? That's no fault of your own. You're young, maybe too young for me."

Her eyes fix on me. "My father died when I was eight. Massive heart attack. Went to school, came back, he was gone. No goodbyes, no 'I love you.' Nothing but memories and old photographs. I know what it is to lose someone." She smiles a sad smile. "See, don't let my age fool you, Landon. I've experienced life. I might not have had the vast extent of life experiences you have, being a whole three years older than me, but I have emotional life experience."

"My bad. There's something about you, Lacey."

"What?"

"Something I wasn't expecting from a high school senior. When is your birthday again?"

She looks away. "I didn't say."

"Your sister did. She said it was in two months."

"Yeah, about that..."

"What about it?"

"She kinda, sorta..."

"Spit it out, Lacey. I don't think I'm going to like this."

"My birthday's further out than that. Instead of 18, I'm going to be...17."

"What? So you--you're not even a senior!"

"I'm sorry. She said you wouldn't go out with me if you knew I was sixteen."

"Wait until I see her. You're practically still a baby. No, of course, I wouldn't have gone out with you."

She turns her face down, and I instantly regret raising my voice and the sharpness of my words. I stop walking and move closer to her, lifting her chin, looking into those sad, beautiful eyes. "Lacey, baby, sorry. I don't know if this will work. I'm upset with your sister because I really like you, and I don't want to take you someplace you're not ready to go. I can tell you're innocent, in more ways than one. But I still want to know more about you, even though I shouldn't."

"So get to know me, before you dismiss me and my innocence. How bad can it be to just get to know me?" She looks at me with wide eyes, and I know she's clueless.

"Lacey, baby, you have no idea how _hard_ it's going to be. This is new for me, and I'm crazy for considering it, but what the hell. Let's cement this newfound friendship. Can I kiss you?"

"You're asking me?"

"This is what I'm talking about. New. What do you say?"

"Yes." She beams.

"You might want to stop smiling so hard if you want this to work properly."

"Oh, yes, sorry."

I laugh and give her the chastest kiss I've ever given in my life. Well, I tried. She was too damn cute. "By the way, don't ever apologize for that beautiful smile."

I remember the last thing I said when I left her at her door, walking away backward to keep my eyes on her.

"Tell your sister I hate her. She is not my favorite anymore."

The last thing I thought was: I hate her, but I'm sure glad I listened to her and took a chance, because Lacey McQueen is something different.
Chapter Two

**_Lacey_**

"Hey, Mom," I say, standing over the stove when she walks in.

"Hey, honey. How was your day?"

"It was the same old same. Going according to plan, until you called to tell me you weren't going to be able to pick up Jacob."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I got stuck across town. I called you as soon as I knew I wasn't going to make it. Did Sam give you a hard time for taking off early from your shift?"

"No."

"If he did, you just let me have a talk with him. He knows you're always on time. Never out sick--"

"Mom, you know Sam better than that. He's always on me to take a day off and enjoy myself. But like I tell him, what would I do with a day off by myself, especially now that Jacob's in school full time?"

"You know he's right. You work too much."

"Mom--"

"I just want to see you happy. Living the life you deserve. You, Jacob, and I don't know...maybe someone he could look up to."

"I'm happy enough. Jacob has us: me, you, and Shay. The McQueen women. If he needs someone to look up to, he has Shay. She can handle that part of his life for a few more years."

"If you say so. What went wrong with your day, if Sam wasn't upset about you leaving early?"

"I saw someone today. Someone I wasn't expecting to ever see again. It shook me to the point of tears, but Jacob was with me, so I had to pull it together. Six years was gone in a flash.." Seeing him transported me to a place and time I love as much as hate.

The deep etch of worry crinkles around her eyes. I quickly reassure her, meeting her eyes, holding her hand firmly in mine. "No, not that time yet. When it is, we'll deal with it. I'm stronger."

I swallow the lump in my throat, where it sinks to the pit of my stomach at just the thought of when that day comes. Each day that passes, it looms closer and closer. I close my eyes to once again take that breath of strength then count to three and exhale. When I open my eyes, she's looking at me.

She smiles this time, taking my hands. Her words are laced with sincerity. "You have become a strong, capable woman. I'm profoundly proud to call my daughter; you have met every challenge you have been given."

I blink back a tear and smile, so she knows I'm good. "Thank you. You said what I needed to hear at just the right time. Now stop. Don't you shed one tear. We will not go back there. Not without a fight." She agrees, and I brush away her wayward tear.

"What happened to make your day change from good to--"

"Landon. Landon Jessup."

She stops what she's doing, and her mouth opens, but no words slip out. Her eyes fly to mine with no small amount of shock and awe.

"Believe me, my reaction was similar to yours. I froze. Spaced out for an awkward length of time before I could pull myself together enough to at least say hello."

"My God in heaven, how? Why?"

"His son. You know the little boy, the new best friend Jacob has been nonstop over the moon talking about since the first day he started school?"

"Yes," she snaps, deciding I'm not explaining fast enough for her curious, overworking mind. "Dear, I'm sorry, but please. I know the little boy. I've met him a few times when I was picking up Jacob. Now please get on with the story."

"I am, but you're not getting it. Connect the dots, Mom. Jacob's new best friend is Jackson Jessup. Yes! Landon Jessup's son." I nod slowly at her shocked face, still not believing it myself. I see her making the move to comfort me, but I stop her. "No, I'm okay now. After the initial shock of seeing him, and finding out our sons are now the best of friends in this Greek tragedy, I've accepted it."

"Are you sure you're fine with this? He was a big part of your life, and you know--I don't know, sweetheart? Are you sure?" she says, doubting my stability and peace of mind at this very minute.

Worrying over me is something she hasn't done recently. Since I've regained control over my life and took back what was mine, it's been pretty smooth sailing. I have learned to worry about the things only I can control and stop living in the past. She's afraid I'll regress, fall back into a depression my mind won't let me overcome. Which is not surprising, since it's been a long time since I had to look that past in the face. You can call this the first step, but it's not the ultimate issue I'll eventually have to face. When that day comes, it will require every ounce of courage and strength I've gathered to claw my way back and survive, not just for me, but for Jacob.

**_Victim_**. I am not.

Honesty, and being upfront with all my feelings, for her not to worry, is what's needed now.

"Jacob and I came home, and I sent him to his room to play. I locked myself in the bathroom. I cried. I haven't cried tears like those in a long time. It was a relief. It wasn't me falling back. You know when something unexpected sneaks up on you?"

She ignores me and gets up, stroking my hair and wrapping one strong arm around my back. I continue.

"Feelings and memories are so strong. As soon as I saw him, my emotions were taken back in time. Back to a place and person I used to be, but I'm not anymore."

"Lacey, maybe we can put Jacob in a different class, or a different school. We'll explain it; they'll understand."

"No. We will not," I say firmly. "I will not do that to him. He'll be devastated if I take him away from the first real friend he's made. You know he wasn't thrilled about starting school. I won't hurt him in that way. I'll deal with it; things are not the same. I'm not the same girl as before." I sigh.

Besides, it's only the beginning of things he has to deal with in his life. I'm not going to add to the difficulties he'll have to face from ignorant, small-minded people who don't know a damn thing about him or who he is. I'll deal.

Knowing I won't give in on this, she asks, "What did he say?"

"Not much. He was as shocked as we are."

"He knows Jacob is yours. What did he say about that?"

"What was he supposed to say?"

"I don't know." Her hand goes up as if she wants to pull her hair out. "God in heaven, I don't know."

"I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe yelling, or a cold look of hate and disdain for my choice. For making a decision he couldn't understand."

I wouldn't have liked it, but he's the one person I could understand for it.

"My hold on Jacob was automatic. I was ready to shield him from the worst, but that's not what I got. He looked at him. A head-to-toe appraisal. I was ready for anything but what he did."

"What did he do? If he so much as uttered a single word against my grandchild--" her voice rises in grandmotherly fury. "He's an innocent child!"

"Mom, no. He was warm, really friendly to him. The Landon I remember. He got down on his level, held out his hand to shake it, said he was happy Jackson found a friend like Jacob."

"Really?"

"Really."

I thought for sure if the day ever came that he saw him, I would see blame and disgust written all over his face. There wasn't. I stood and watched. Saw them interact. Like how I imagined a father and son. It gripped my heart.

"Got me thinking, maybe Landon coming back and being in our lives won't be so bad. This could work. It couldn't work for us before, through no fault of our own. But for our kids, maybe it can."

"So much has happened. There's still so much more to face as he gets older, Lacey. Jacob asking about his birth father once in a while is just the beginning of things to come."

"He's not his father," I say, with a low simmer of anger I don't often feel when I think about who fathered my child. Because I try my damnedest not to think about it.

Sensing my increasing agitation, she nods, staying silent.

Now I feel bad for snapping at her. She's been so great over the years. She has stepped up in a way I wouldn't have believed. If it wasn't for her and Shay, I couldn't have raised Jacob to be the way he is. The three of us have spent the last six years shielding him from negativity and covering him with love.

"Mommy! I'm hungry! Is Grandma home? She said she was going to take me out on my bike today when Aunty Shay gets here. She's going to take off my training wheels!"

We look at each other and smile. "Grandma's here!" my mom yells up.

I wag my finger at her and yell back, "We don't need to scream. Please come down if you need to talk to us."

"But _you're_ screaming, Mom."

"Jacob."

"Sorry, Mom. I love you."

"Love you, too."

"You hear that?" I say, to my mom. "Things are going to be fine." I turn around and get back to making dinner for my family, the four of us.

I hear my mother say in a small voice as she turns away, "I hope you're right, for you as much as for Jacob."

So do I.

Learn more about Cry For You. Purchase now.
About Shaniel Watson

Shaniel Watson is the author of the Imperfections Series. Her first book was published in 2015. She writes stories she likes to read, sultry emotional stories with imperfect characters who eventually get their happy ending.

Shaniel lives in New York and is a proud mother.

To learn more about Shaniel visit her website or follow her on Bookbub.
Bad Boy Billionaire's Lady by Mary Hughes

_The Lovless Billionaires. Three brothers with too much money and no time for love --until each meets the woman guaranteed to infuriate--and inflame--him most._

The Lovless Brothers Book 1

As a boy, Rebel Lovless ran away from home to escape his robber-baron grandfather molding him into a ruthless copy. But when the old man dies, Reb, now a Navy SEAL, must return to take over the conglomerate.

Elizabeth Rothschild promised a dying man she'd protect his charitable legacy. But how, when the greedy, manipulative sharks on the board want her out?

And now the biggest shark of all, the Lovless heir, is coming home.

The loner and out-of-sync boy who left is not the stunning man who strides into the board meeting. He shocks them all by barking orders and commanding them to a team-building exercise on a tropical island. They're getting their hands dirty constructing a house. But as Reb, Elizabeth, and the board members toil side by side, will it build their camaraderie--or only put them close enough for someone to stick in the knife?
Author Note

Friends and box sets go together, like a tailgate party author-style, with words instead of beer. Victoria Pinder invited me to a list-aiming box set where the heroes were billionaires. Who can resist a good billionaire? I put a rebel billionaire together with a feisty lady and a tropical setting, threw in some business drama (my contemporaries feature the career woman's struggle to find love), and I was set. We made our list and now this USA Today bestselling story joins another friend's set. Thanks to Shelley Munro for this great word party!
Elizabeth Meets Reb--Twice

The trouble started when Elizabeth Rothschild, toting the rescue kitten, tried to dodge New York City rush-hour foot traffic by cutting through a dark alley.

She was late for an important after-hours board meeting. Stopping at the animal shelter to see if they needed food or medicine--part of her job as head of charities for Lovless Industries, but also her passion--made her later.

The kitten had been mewing piteously. She'd picked it up to cuddle and console it. Big eyes blinked trustingly at her from the ball of yellow fur, and she was lost, plucking the stray from the shelter to give him a home.

Now, as she muddled along the congested sidewalk, she kept one arm securely around the kitten's tote. Her messenger bag flopped against her other hip, its strap crisscrossed with the carrier. Taking the poor animal with her probably wasn't her best idea, but there'd been no time. A friend at work could watch the kitten during her meeting.

Jostled and late, the empty alley looked like salvation.

She ducked out of the press of bodies into the alley opening. Clutching the carrier, she peered down the dark, narrow path between the two tall buildings.

Deserted? Or hiding dangers?

She touched her knit hat. Her hair was safe from grabbing underneath. Muggings were no joke, but her coat covered her expensive power suit and nice jewelry. And she wore a good pair of runners.

One arm still around the kitten's carrier, she dug with the other hand in her messenger bag for her phone and checked the time.

Five minutes until the meeting. And she still had to find her friend to drop off the little ball of fur.

Elizabeth swore. Walk in late? Or potentially not at all? She shifted on her runners, thinking of the boardroom that awaited, the big table ringed by two dozen of the greediest, most blood-thirsty suited sharks there were--and no more Landy to support her.

"One goal," she coached herself. "Protect Landy's charity legacy. Well, and not get fired."

The kitten, perhaps hearing her voice, meowed.

"Okay, three goals," she answered. "Protect the charities, don't get fired, and buy you kitten chow. But for now, don't worry. Ainsley will take good care of you while I face the sharks."

The sharks, and one other complication--the new chairman of the Lovless Industries board of directors. A man even Landy called uncontrollable. Her stomach lurched, remembering her mentor's last words to her.

_"You'll have to deal with my grandson."_

Muggers or sharks? _Oh, what's the difference?_

"Right." She made her decision.

* * * * *

The man saddled with the appalling name of "Landon Lovless the Third" was pissed.

The snarl of traffic, beeping and honking around him, echoed his mood. He sat on his motorcycle amid New York rush hour, hot and chafing despite the cool day. He ought to be with his SEAL team, not dressed up in this ridiculous suit. He ought to be hearing his brothers in arms calling him Rebel and Reb instead of a pack of corporate wolves calling him Landon or Lovless or worse yet, Mr. Chairman.

That was his old robber baron of a grandfather, not him.

Yet everything he'd rejected from day one, the name, the title, the money, had been forced on him by the old man's death.

"I won't do it," Reb snarled for the umpteenth time. He'd donned his leathers over the suit and rode his Harley through midtown rush hour traffic in protest. It made him late, but that was a form of protest, too.

The light changed. Cars, cabs, and bikes moved forward. He rolled on the throttle--clamping and stomping the brakes when, three inches later, the car in front of him squealed to a halt. Clamping the bike into neutral, he slapped boots to the pavement. The left lane was supposed to be faster, but nothing moved right now. He was hot and late, and the fact that he'd done it to himself made him even more pissed.

Then he saw her.

Immediately, everything else dropped away, including his temper. He didn't know what about her attracted his attention; she scurried into his periphery, about a block behind him on the sidewalk, nothing out of the ordinary. Her lumpy cloche hat looked hand-knit--like something made by a kid, not the trendy, artisanal kind his grandfather's too-young mistresses wore. Her coat appeared to be good quality wool, but a bit scuffed looking.

His forehead tightened in a frown beneath his helmet. Everything she wore looked a little worn, including her no-name running shoes and the messenger bag where, if she was like every other New York City office worker he'd met, she'd tote her sensible pumps. Unless she was the back-killing heels type.

The pet carrier looked new, though.

Then her face came into focus. _She_ wasn't worn-looking at all. As she hurried nearer, he was struck by her creamy skin, sparkling eyes, and ruby lips perfect for a man's kiss...

He shook his head and turned away. Then turned almost immediately back.

Little wisps of blonde hair escaped from her hat. He normally couldn't stand blondes, but something about those small, fragile curls, shimmering silver and honey and flaxen, intrigued him as she scurried past him on the sidewalk.

As she neared the alley and slowed.

_Damn it._ He could almost hear the thought going through her head.

_Don't do it._

Ignoring his mental warnings--and plain good sense--she swiveled on graceful legs and went into the alley.

The dark alley.

He chomped molars and turned away. Not his problem. She'd done it of her own free will. On her own head be it.

_That dark, narrow alley. Perfect for an enemy ambush._

He glanced again at the shadowed maw. Nothing good came of pretty women cutting through alleys.

Forcing himself to look away, he told himself it was none of his business. Besides, he'd have to cut across two lanes plus the congested sidewalk...

_She might be in danger,_ the SEAL in him urged.

The light changed. Traffic began flowing forward.

He eased out the clutch, first gear engaged, and rolled forward with traffic. _She made the choice herself --_

The panicked yowl of a young animal caught his ears.

Barely audible over the traffic noise. But his hearing, attuned to danger, meant the poor beast's fear cut through.

With a sharp curse, he cranked his fork. Earning several honks and rude gestures, he shoved the bike into non-existent gaps in the wall-to-wall traffic. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

* * * * *

As Elizabeth hurried down the alley, a big, bulky man stepped from a shadowed doorway to block her path.

"Where're you going so fast?"

Her blood iced. The man was all beef and flexing muscle, with flinty eyes. She clasped the kitten's carrier to her, forcing herself to breathe deeply, trying to slow her heart's pounding in her ribcage. She knew what to do--extract her wallet from her messenger bag, toss it behind the guy, and while he was distracted snatching it up, run the other way.

A clattering from behind caught her attention. She glanced over her shoulder as a second goon slouched into the alley. His knit cap hugged his skull, the hat's brim rolled to expose his hungry eyes.

Skullcap had just cut off her escape route.

She swallowed, hard. Squaring her shoulders, she faced the first mugger and thrust out a palm. "Back off."

Instead, the beefy man sauntered closer. "What's in the carrier?"

Her arm convulsed around the animal tote. A worried meow answered. "A cat. You don't want him. You want my briefcase. You can have it." She eased the messenger bag from her shoulder. "Just a bunch of work papers, though. A subway pass. Credit cards, but they're maxed out." And her phone and second-hand Gucci pumps, which she'd counted on to make the right impression with the new chairman.

But the best way out of the situation was to give the mugger the bag.

She glanced behind again, wondering if she could toss it far enough to have both muggers run after it, when the beefy man suddenly grabbed the strap.

She automatically yanked it away. Her fear and fury and rampaging adrenaline boosted the tug into a full-body swing. She spun around--and whirled the bag into the beefy man's head.

"Hey!" He threw up a hand last-minute, but she still managed to wallop him in the skull. He collapsed with a groan to his hands and knees.

Her jaw dropped in amazement. Then self-preservation kicked in, and she lurched into a run past him. One step, two, she built up speed, her gaze zeroed on the street opening at the other end of the alley.

_Just let me escape. I vow never to take a shortcut again._

Feet pursued her. A hand clamped onto her coat. Her pulse kicked into overdrive.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Skullcap dragged her to a stop.

She swung around, messenger bag first, the kitten still clamped to her body.

Skullcap caught the briefcase mid-swing, ripped it from her grasp, and threw it to one side.

"Bad move, bitch." He slapped her face.

His palm was like a flat rock smashing into her cheek. Her bone rang with the impact, and her head spun with the momentum, jarring her off balance. She stumbled back a step. The pain came an instant later, sharp, insistent. She willed it down to a dull throb, desperately trying to keep control of what she could.

The mugger grabbed her by the lapels--and tore open her coat beneath the carrier strap.

She sucked in a shocked breath. Inhaled a wash of male stink. She recoiled automatically, heart hammering. The kitten released a terrified screech.

"Well, well." The mugger dragged her back, his foul excitement pouring off him. "What's this?"

Beyond him, the beefy man was just rising. "Hold her." Hand to his head where she'd clipped him, he staggered toward her. "I owe her some payback."

She struggled against Skullcap's hold, impotently, horrified that the situation had careened so out of control. Her blood thundered in her ears as she tried desperately to think of a way out...or was that the sound of a motor?

Suddenly, the hard roar of a powerful machine filled the mouth of the alley.

Beyond the muggers, a motorcycle skidded into the narrow way, its harsh engine reverberating against the buildings.

Both goons spun toward the intruder. Freed, Elizabeth clutched the carrier and stumbled back, her pulse racing frantically.

The bike tore down the pavement and squealed to a stop a few feet from the muggers.

A big, helmeted, leather-clad man sat easily on the low-slung seat. Scuffed, shitkicker boots rested flat on the pavement.

Her panted breaths rasped in her ears. The muggers' more dangerous biker pal? God, and she'd thought things couldn't get worse.

One boot rose to toe the stand down. With a fluid lift of his muscular leg, the man dismounted easily, unfolding to almost a giant's height. Face completely covered by a mirrored visor, he stood before them without a word.

More dangerous? Try deadly.

Elizabeth's breath came in frosted little pants. Was she rescued, or in even more trouble than before?

* * * * *

Arms wrapped protectively around the kitten carrier, Elizabeth couldn't decide if she should run or stay. Her feet decided for her, shuffling her backward.

The big biker simply stood there at his ease as the pair of muggers approached him. From their aggressive, almost threatening stalks, she took back the thought they might have been friends.

But if the biker was here to rescue her, it was two against one. She had to do something.

_Call for help._ Right.

Except her phone was in her messenger bag, lying where her attacker had thrown it to one side, fetched up against a building. She edged toward the bag--just as the beefy mugger launched a sledgehammer fist at the biker's gut.

Her breath stuck in her throat.

The man simply pivoted, and the mugger's fist swished harmlessly past his jacket. As the thug's arm extended, the biker's leather-clad one wrapped around it. Continuing the pivot, he used the mugger's momentum to send him flying over one hip.

It didn't even look like he had to work too hard.

The beefy goon landed on his backside with an _oof._ Elizabeth gave a mental cheer--until he pushed himself to his feet, grinned savagely at the biker, and drew a knife.

_Phone!_ Throwing aside subtlety, she darted toward her messenger bag.

"Hey!" Skullcap pulled his own knife and moved to intercept her.

Panic goosed her into a mad dash. _Nearly there._ She elbowed the cat carrier behind her as she reached for the bag...

A hand clamped her arm. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest.

"Gotcha now."

" _Leave her alone,_ " the biker ripped out like a chainsaw. He spun a kick through the beefy mugger's head and without even waiting for the reeling man to fall, ran toward them.

Skullcap yanked her against him, brandishing his knife at the man. "Stop!"

The kitten shrieked. The poor animal's distress turned Elizabeth's fear to fury, burning fiercely through her.

She kicked hard at the side of the mugger's knee.

Bleating in surprise, the thug stumbled sideways, his hand automatically releasing her just as the biker reached them.

He caught Skullcap's knife-hand wrist and yanked him down--into his own raised, leather-clad knee. Mugger nose met biker bone. The knife clattered to the pavement.

Skullcap sprang back with a shriek, hand to his bloody face. Fury lit his eyes. "You asshole!" He charged.

The biker spun. Lightning fast, that shitkicker boot planted in mugger belly. The kick lifted Skullcap from the concrete and sent him flying. He butt-planted a few feet away, collapsing flat with a moan.

"Damn it." The beefy mugger shook his head, rose, and staggered almost drunkenly toward them. Her leather-clad rescuer took two strides to him, laced his gloved fists together--and hammered the mugger in the skull.

The beefy man fell back to the ground with a pained sigh.

Her heart hammered five painful beats before she realized it was actually over. Body pulsing with leftover shock, she fought to calm herself--her composure broken instantly when that black helmet swiveled to face her.

She swallowed a dry gulp and managed to stutter, "Th-thank you. You saved me..."

Light flared off the polycarbonate, hitting her like a glare--except for a single swatch of matte black just above the visor. An eagle-and-trident appliqué.

Without a word, the man spun and stalked to his bike. He mounted, started the beast, and roared past her, disappearing out the alley on the other side.

Elizabeth stared after him, not sure what to think. She'd been scared out of her wits, but then a hero roared up and rescued her--and took off without a word.

Touching her fingers to breastbone, she felt the excited thud of her heart. She usually did the protecting, the rescuing, doubly hard as a woman in a male-dominated world. Was that why she was so impressed? She was honored to protect Landy's charities, but being strong all the time took its toll.

The kitten mewed.

Well, one thing was sure. She needed to get the poor creature somewhere with water and papers. She snatched up her messenger bag.

Following the biker's path toward the end of the alley, she clasped the carrier close under one arm, her messenger back under the other, and jogged out.

* * * * *

"I need your help," Elizabeth belted out as she scurried past Ainsley into her tiny office. Setting the cat carrier gently in one corner, she threw off her coat and hat, dumped her messenger bag onto her chair, and dug inside for her good heels.

Her friend and roommate trotted in behind her. Like a radical protester from the nineteen-sixties, Ainsley had straight, long brown hair parted in the middle and falling around her high cheekbones and heart-shaped face. But she was a radical reporter for an online exposé journal, fully in this century. Elizabeth had helped her get this temporary job at Lovless Industries writing technical copy.

Curiosity lighting her elfin face, Ainsley went straight to the carrier. "Is that a cat?"

"Kitten." Setting her Gucci pumps on the ground, Elizabeth toed off her runners then slid her feet into the heels. Stepping into the cool leather, she felt her stature rise, giving her a much-needed boost to her confidence. "Can you watch him while I brave the board?"

"Of course. What's his name?"

"I haven't decided." What else? Oh yes, her phone.

"How about Meowster Furry-purry?"

She'd have winced, but she was too rushed. "Whimsical, but impractical." Retrieving her phone from her bag, she tucked it into her skirt pocket.

"Sugar Lumps?"

"Um...maybe wait until I get back? Thanks for watching him."

Leaving the kitten with her friend, hoping desperately that Ainsley wouldn't be cooing Cutie Pie at him by the time she returned, Elizabeth rushed out, headed for the boardroom.

_Ding._ A text message.

She slid the wafer-thin device from her pocket and thumbed up the message.

Preston Hare, her only ally on the board. -- _Yr late._ --

"Tell me something I don't know," she muttered, jamming the phone back in her pocket as the boardroom came into sight.

Her heart thudded harder. Ten-foot-tall slabs of solid oak with _Lovless Industries_ inlaid in jade, the double doors were meant to be imposing. Tonight, they were downright intimidating.

Another ding stopped her outside the monoliths. With a soft snarl, she pulled out the phone.

-- _Dont mk me regret helpng u._ --

Her only ally? In truth, Preston Hare--which he pronounced Hah-ree, like Mata Hari--was as sharky as the rest of the board.

He was also her ex-boyfriend. After their breakup, she chose to use the more-obvious pronunciation of his last name....with an added "Ball."

_The enemy of my enemy is my friend,_ she reminded herself. _You promised Landy you'd save his charities, and you can't do that without Preston._

Smoothing a hand along her hair, she patted strands disheveled by the attack into place, patting her emotions into place with them. Then, with a deep breath for courage, she pushed one of the massive doors open, having to put her shoulder into the effort. She'd have resented it, but if she resented all the things here that were skewed toward men, she'd be a seething cauldron of anger.

Gazes around the table rose to her, glaring, disdainful, hitting her right in the confidence bone.

She hesitated.

Mistake. Almost as one the men ringing the table smiled. Not in welcome, but the smiles of sharks scenting blood. _Her_ blood.

Landy would've cut them down to size with an ice-blue glare. _Landy isn't here._

Elizabeth nerved herself to enter despite their rapacious smiles. She took one step forward--and her heel wobbled under her.

The grins widened. _Another step closer to being ousted._

She righted herself. Pretending a confidence she didn't feel, she made her way toward Preston, glancing at faces as she passed. There were three distinct types of shark--the middle-aged hatchet men, the lean, hungry up-and-comers, and the silver-haired old guard. _You're too soft,_ one hatchet face said. _Charities make no profit,_ a young buck glared. _A woman,_ scoffed an old silverback's sneer.

Roland Exetor Senior, worst of the old guard, glared at her from pockets of flesh. "Elizabeth. You're late." He sat mid-table, though not in Landy's old seat.

No, across from Senior, one of the hatchet men sat smugly in the big leather command chair.

Suddenly fed up with it all, she snapped, "I was nearly mugged. Thanks for asking." She stomped past the old guard and hatchet men to the only open chair, beside Preston at the young-buck end.

As she sat, she scanned the rest of the faces, looking for Landy's grandson. The boy was only a set of old snapshots and Landy's hissed complaints to her. The boardroom held no sullen, lanky teen, no wiry, strung-out wreck with Landy's eyes.

He wasn't here yet. _At least I'm not the only one late._

Preston slapped the table. "Can we get back to my concerns? The heir not being here yet is a bad sign."

"What a fuck-up," Exetor Senior muttered

"I knew his father," one of the hatchet men said. "Lovless Junior ran away from responsibility. The grandson is worse."

"A fuck-up," Exetor Senior repeated. "Always rejecting his grandfather's good advice."

"Exactly my point." Preston jabbed a finger onto the table in percussive emphasis. "As _we_ need to reject _him._ "

She remembered Preston phoning her right after Landy died. _"The board has always wanted you out, Elizabeth. Now's their chance, unless..."_

_"Unless what?"_

_"Unless I become chairman in the old man's place."_

_"What about the Lovless heir?"_

_"We get rid of him. C'mon, Elizabeth. You support me, I'll support you."_

That was the scheme she and Preston had devised. Oust the heir and make Preston chairman. _It's my best opportunity to help Landy's charities survive._

"Vote Lovless out before he even arrives?" The young shark across from Preston grinned. "I like."

Roland Exetor Junior, or as she liked to call him, Rolex. He was the epitome of modern shark in a gray patterned skinny suit, white power tie, and capped grin that didn't soften, or even reach, his eyes. He was the greediest, most ruthless of them all, blaming her for Landy's softening of heart. He hated her for it.

But he hated the heir more. Rolex _would_ have been Landy's heir apparent, if not for the Lovless prodigal son.

Or rather, prodigal grandson--Landon Lovless III.

"Have some subtlety, boy." Exetor Senior chuckled. "We'll get him out, all right, but by guile. He'll never know it wasn't his own idea."

Elizabeth's breath chilled. Was the old silverback one step ahead of her and Preston?

She glanced at her ex. He wouldn't look at her.

Her mouth dried. Why wouldn't Preston meet her gaze? Did he know something she didn't? She half-expected to get axed, but did they mean to do it tonight? Without the heir's blessing?

_Before I can get Preston elected in his place?_

She wished Landy were here. He knew what went on in the sharks' minds and hearts--he'd been just like them, once.

"Why hold back?" Rolex asked his father, tone slightly petulant. "Our previous chairman wouldn't have. He was merciless."

Landy had to be, to hack and slash Lovless Industries from a single mining company to today's powerhouse conglomerate.

"We're more refined now, my boy." Senior was as condescending with his own son as he was to Elizabeth. "As befits our new place in the world." With subsidiaries in everything from transportation to food prep, LI's largest moneymakers were mining, refining, and recycling rare earth materials. Computer materials. Idea materials.

"Can we get started?" one of Senior's cronies grumbled. "I'll miss my dinner engagement."

"We've waited for the fuck-up long enough," Rolex sneered.

"It _will_ throw him." Exetor Senior nodded. "Let's get started--"

_Boom._ The doors exploded open, flung apart as if they weighed nothing by a tall man in a perfectly cut suit. The action pulled apart the lapels to reveal acres of crisp, sky-colored shirt over a powerful chest.

The sharks eyed the newcomer. It was obvious from their smirks they still saw the sullen loner.

Heart pounding faster, Elizabeth wasn't so sure.

Landon Lovless III, with black hair, blue eyes so brilliant they were silver, and a face that was all dark, dangerous planes might be the biggest shark in the tank.

Will Reb protect Elizabeth from the circling corporate sharks? Buy _Bad Boy Billionaire's Lady_ to find out.
About Mary Hughes

I write steamy paranormal romances and wickedly fun romantic adventures, stories that crackle with action and love. Challenging, smart alpha men--and women not afraid of a challenge. Oh, do the sparks fly when he meets THE woman guaranteed to infuriate and inflame him most.

In real life I'm a USA Today bestselling author, a spouse and mother, a flutist, a computer geek, and a binge-TV-watcher of The Flash, Elementary, NCIS, and Wynonna Earp.

I'd love to hear from you!

To learn more about Mary please visit her website or follow her at Bookbub.
No Strings Attached by Kristen Strassel

**I paid for his body. I never expected his heart to be part of the deal.**

The last thing I want to do is face my cheating ex-husband at my twentieth high school reunion. When my best friend suggests I hire an escort for the weekend, I choose a man I'd never have a chance to date in real life.

Jagger Holiday. Sinfully sexy. An artist with a haunting vision. My fantasy.

We connect through our art, sharing a passion for things that have been forgotten and making them beautiful. But I never expected his soul to whisper to mine when he touched me...

Now Jagger wants to make the fantasy our reality, but can I give my heart to a man whose body is for hire?
Author Note

When my friend revealed that a super-hot model is also a male escort, I couldn't stop thinking about him. How did this escort thing work? I know the basics--the contracts and the fantasies, but I wanted to know what happened when an escort was off duty. How did he have a relationship? What happened if he fell for a client? So I created Jagger Holiday, a sexy photographer who's completely shut himself down to the possibility of finding love, and set him up with Leah, a curvy single mom of a teenager. The connect first through their art, then with their bodies, and finally with their souls.
My Best Friend Just Blew My Mind

"I'm not going."

"Like hell you're not going," Kari said before dropping her head on the table. Oh, the dramatics. My best friend was one of the fiercest prosecutors in the country, but there was one thing that could reduce her to acting like a teenager. "You're not making me go to this reunion alone, Leah."

I lifted my chin, it was hard not to laugh at her with her usually perfect chestnut hair splayed on the table. Tonight was our Wine and Netflix Night, so instead of the stick-straight clip-in extensions she usually wore, her hair was falling out of a messy ponytail. I wasn't giving in to her outburst. Not that easily. "I don't have a date."

Just the thought of high school had a way of making us all regress. Going to this thing would be worse than that recurring nightmare everyone has about showing up at school with no clothes on.

We were all going to this reunion naked. There was no hiding what we'd become.

"You can be my date." She picked her head up, wiping her hair out of her face and refilling her wine glass with a sigh. "Listen, Leah, I don't want to go either. But as president of the class of 1995, I've spent way too much time planning this to pull a no-show."

"You can totally no-show. The only reason you got elected is because the rest of the class was too lazy for student government." I could count how many people voted in the election without taking off my socks. "And Rich already accused us of being in a torrid lesbian affair when I moved down here. I'm sure he's told everybody. If we show up together..."

"Good!" Kari laughed. "If I thought it would've gotten you away from that asshole sooner, I would've put the moves on you years ago." Kari was a definite upgrade from my ex-husband. The only good things he gave me in fourteen years of marriage were our daughter and a reason to leave. Our shotgun wedding ensured I would've had Raven anyway.

Speaking of Raven, she rolled her eyes when she walked through the kitchen. She had a knack of walking in on the wrong bits of conversation. The divorce uprooted my baby in the middle of her sophomore year, and she was never going to forgive me or Rich.

"When are you going back to Scituate?" Raven asked.

"Next month," Kari answered before I had a chance to say _when hell freezes over_. "For our twenty-year high school reunion."

"Really?" Raven raised her eyebrows as she did the math. The subtle movement was enough to make me feel ancient. "Can I come? I'll see if I can stay with Kenzie."

Neutral ground. Smart girl.

"Absolutely." Kari stood up, putting her arm around Raven and ushering her out of the room. "Text her now and let her know you're coming."

Raven headed back to her bedroom to tell her best friend she'd see her soon, and I glared at mine. "You bitch!" I laughed. "You used my daughter to get your way."

Kari sat back down, looking satisfied. "Damn straight I did. You can always tell her no."

"Right. Which will somehow turn into Rich saying I won't let him see her." I finished my wine and resisted the urge for more. Too much red would bring a mariachi band marching through my brain in the morning. I had a long day of filming ahead of me tomorrow and I didn't want to do it with a hangover. "I know it sounds pathetic, but if I show up to this thing without a date, I feel like he wins."

The day I found Rich with his head between Shelley's legs felt like the end of the world. I'd been helping my sister all day, exhausted, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed and make all the bad things go away. That didn't happen because they were in it. Fucking. On my favorite sheets, no less. Trust me, I burned those things in the backyard the first chance I had. Rich and Shelley are lucky they're both still alive because it took everything I had not to wring their necks. But that turned out to be my Independence Day. Rich didn't think he could love me anymore? Best of luck to you, buddy. You're going to need it. It was time for me to start loving me.

_Live for me_. I looked down at the tattoo on the inside of my wrist, the last words my little sister Lisa had said to me. I'd been taking care of her when Rich started bringing that slut into my bed. I always thought we were too young for things like breast cancer, but I'd been wrong. She fought with everything she had but didn't live to see my divorce finalized. Those words had become my rally cry.

"You have a phenomenal career and you look amazing. You have no reason not to walk into that reunion with your head held high." Kari still frowned. "But I understand why you feel that way."

Kari was the only person who kept hours as crazy as mine. She was a federal prosecutor, and I was an interior designer. When Raven was little, I worked as a sales associate at Design Spot. Two years ago, once the divorce was final and I was free from my past, I moved from Massachusetts to Georgetown and finally joined a design firm. That had been my plan after I finished college, but instead I had a baby. Raven grew up, but I stayed at Design Spot. In DC, I found a funky boutique agency that encouraged me to push beyond my comfort zone because that's where the magic happened. Soon I was able to take my own clients and do the kind of work I only dreamed of doing when I was stuck at Design Spot. No more shades of beige for me. Now my work was in magazines. My clients included rock stars, actors, and artists, and I had a weekly spot on a national morning show. I'd achieved more than I dreamed was possible.

But Kari constantly had a man around. And I did not. "How do you meet all these guys?"

"I hire them," she said with a completely straight face. I expected a punch line, but it didn't come.

"What did you just say?" Because I couldn't have heard her right. No more wine for me tonight.

"I hire them," she repeated, and this time I spit red wine all over the table. "They all come from an agency."

I squinted in confusion. "You're dating models?" There was another alternative, but I refused to let myself believe it. Kari had government security clearance. There was no way she was hiring...

"They're escorts." Still no punch line. "I call the agency and hire them when I want a date."

"All of them?" I'd met some of these guys. I'd had no idea. "I can't believe you'd keep this from me! And now you tell me like it's no big deal?"

"Because I felt the same way you did at first. Dirty. Like I was doing something wrong." She leaned forward, her face lighting up. "When I moved to DC, I gave it a try. I don't have time for all that relationship bullshit. Most guys piss their pants when I tell them what I do for a living. They turn it into a competition, which is a shame because the only person they're competing against is themselves. I don't care what they do as long as they can take care of themselves and they're happy. And they have something to talk about. Out of desperation, I tried this. I only wish I did it sooner. There's no pressure. These guys know why they're there. To provide a service. If I want them to come to a work function with me, they do. If I want to take them to the Pancake House, they'll order a short stack and a side of bacon. And if I want them to fuck me until the world stops spinning, they're more than happy to oblige.

"They aren't prostitutes. They've been screened and chosen for this, and they aren't cheap. They're smart, interesting, open-minded, they've got bodies built for sin, and Jesus Christ can they fuck." Kari exhaled and smiled. It was the softest I'd seen her look in a long time. "There are certain things a woman should not be ashamed to pay for: comfortable shoes, a therapist, and a lover."

"Maria Karina Gomez, I thought I'd heard it all and here you go and shock me." My mouth was still hanging open as she grinned.

"You haven't heard it all yet, girl. Not by a long shot. I've been watching you struggle with those Right Match guys and I've been itching to tell you about this. It made it so much easier that you asked me." She leaned back in her chair.

"You bring them to your work stuff? Did I hear that right?" I still wasn't convinced this wasn't the wine talking and she'd be horrified with me tomorrow when I brought it up again.

"Your tax dollars hard at work." Kari laughed. "I have to spice up those parties somehow, or else I'd die of boredom. You remember Jason, right?" She'd brought him to the barbecue party I threw for Raven's birthday. "He's also a golf pro. He gave the vice president some tips on his game. I need to watch out. I smell a bromance brewing. I think they played a round together recently."

I didn't know what to say. "Have you ever..." the thought felt childish, "had feelings for any of them?" Here Kari was on the leading edge of the feminist movement and I wanted to bog her down with convention.

Her eyes hazed over, and I knew the answer before she said a word. "I have my favorites." She quickly snapped out of it. "Stop thinking of this in terms of a relationship, Lee. It's a business transaction. Trust me, it's a relief. Especially after you've been slogging through everyone else's leftovers on those damn dating sites. I was there, too. It didn't work."

"That's for sure. Right Match is like the used car lot from hell." My metaphor wasn't lost on Kari. Rich managed his dad's car dealership. I was trying to keep an open mind with my online dating prospects, but these guys weren't making it easy for me. "But this escort thing. It's just fucking scandalous."

"Isn't it?" Kari topped off her wine glass and refilled mine, too. Mariachi band, here we come. I knew I should've bought white. "It's also efficient and practical."

She was right. But it was still fucking scandalous. "How does it work?"

"I'll show you." I followed Kari into my office. Once I booted up the computer, she typed in the address for a plain looking website that could've belonged to any corporation in America. She entered a username and password and the page changed to pictures of men. "Here you go. Click on a picture and check out their profiles."

My cheeks burned. "This is how I shop for shoes!" I exclaimed. It wasn't that much different than Right Match, it was just a sure bet. Kari got out of the chair and motioned for me to sit down. I didn't right away; instead I leaned over the chair, looking at what seemed like an endless supply of mostly shirtless, but all gorgeous photos of the men I could choose from.

A business transaction. No strings attached. I looked back over to her. "I'm scared."

"I know you are. That's why I'm going to treat you to the first appointment so you can get to know the guy. You need a referral to get in, anyway. Now you just have to pick him."

She'll pay for his body, but she never expects his heart to be a part of the deal. Purchase No Strings 
About Kristen Strassel

Kristen has always been fascinated with creatures of the night--which led her to write about rock stars and vampires. She loves unlikely pairings, second chances, and of course happily ever afters. When she isn't writing, Kristen works as a makeup artist for film and television. She lives near Boston.

To learn more about Kristen please visit her website or follow her on Bookbub.
Tasting Temptation by Aria Glazki

After last summer's failed attempt at romance, Gina is absolutely done with men. And especially with millionaires. She has a good job as a fashion editor and amazing friends, and she's decided she needs nothing else. All she really misses is the sex. But that rush just isn't worth the risk of being ensnared in another relationship. When the hot bartender at her best friend's Sonoma wedding suggests some harmless stress relief, she takes him up on the offer. When it's sufficiently satisfactory, she indulges in a repeat--for the road. When she learns he's actually the wealthy owner of the vineyard, the mix of fury and fear is damped only by the knowledge that she never has to see him again.

Hunter Cavaliere is determined to honor his grandfather's legacy, and so far, he's right on track. The vineyard is thriving, he has plans for expansion, and his wines speak for themselves. The only thing missing is the right woman to share it all. But through his grandparents' marriage, Hunter learned what true love is, and he's unwilling to settle for anything else. A woman who judges him because of his money definitely isn't high up on his list. Still, when circumstance unbelievably keeps bumping him into the intriguing brunette from Portland, he can't shake the feeling that she is someone he should pursue.

Gina's poised to run the other way, but one more taste of Hunter may just prove too tempting to resist.
Author Note

_Tasting Temptation_ is a romance--HEA guaranteed. But it's also the story of a survivor, reclaiming her life. Of the strength and determination it takes to move forward from an intensely damaging relationship. Of the courage it takes to let someone new in, and the compassion necessary to stand alongside someone recovering her footing. This is a story of a woman finding what she thinks she wants, and ending up with everything she needs.

Happy reading!

Aria Glazki
Chapter One

"Zip me up?" Gina asked, coming out of the dressing room in her maid-of-honor dress.

Roger dropped his cell phone beside her purse and stepped up behind her. "Can you _believe_ Sabella's getting married, and we don't even have dates to the wedding?"

She shot him a chiding look over her shoulder. "Sabella deserves her happily ever after." And being date-free suited Gina just fine.

Roger tugged the zipper up then resettled her hair. "I know! She does. But, seriously. Us? Stag at her wedding?" He plopped back onto the plush cream bench across from the angled trio of mirrors. "Unacceptable!"

"Ever the drama queen." Gina stepped onto the raised ivory platform to assess the alterations, trying not to look too hard at her reflection.

Roger actually stuck his tongue out at her.

"Weddings are supposed to be great for meeting people," she reminded, turning toward him.

"Easy for you to say, Miss 'I can pick up any man I want without even crooking a finger.'"

Gina shrugged the sudden tension from her shoulders. The last thing she wanted was to be tied to another man. "There are worse fates than a trip to Sonoma for a wedding, Rodge. Even without a date."

His lips found the impeccable pout that always made Sabella jealous. "You're grouchy today."

"That's 'cause you're extra whiny today," she shot back lightly, trying to sound normal.

He sighed, twisting open the cap to his diet iced tea. The salads they'd picked up for lunch on their way to the boutique waited patiently beside him. Gina swept her hands out, silently asking about the dress. Roger's nod of approval ended with a head tilt.

"Look," she said, checking the hemline in the mirror one more time before stepping down, "you're the one who broke up with his hottie boyfriend because he got bored."

His shoulders and eyebrows lifted with choreographed innocence. "What can I say? I'm hard to keep satisfied."

"Well, then. Good thing you work for me and not the other way around." She softened the comment with a smile. Roger's mouth still dropped into a nearly perfect "o." Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, Gina turned away and swept her hair to the side so he could undo the zipper. He obliged silently, and she walked back to the dressing room to change.

"Speaking of work," he called from the other side of the heavy brocade curtains. "You leave Saturday, right?"

"You just can't wait to get me out of the office." She paused, smoothing her palm over the dark-purple chiffon. Sabella and Kane's wedding was something _good_. And Gina couldn't wait to see her best friend outside of a computer screen again.

"I like being in charge," Roger admitted, drawing her back to the present.

"Good thing we're wrapping up the layout today," she said, slipping the dress off to change back into her knotted skirt and Rebecca Taylor top. "So you'll only be in charge of brainstorming ideas for the next issue." She was mostly kidding. Roger was a fantastic assistant, and he was really developing a good eye.

"And what have I ever done to you?" She would have bet he was pouting again. "Anyway, I was _going_ to say that you could use the break."

"Well that's true." Gina tucked back a flyaway strand of hair before taking the dress and rejoining him in the main room. "But since I don't particularly want to lose this job, we better get back to work."

"Yeah, yeah. It would be nice though, snagging a hunky millionaire at the wedding. Just think of all the clothes we could buy... Oh, and fashion week!" He fixed her with a solemn stare. "Promise me, if you ever marry rich and go to fashion week in Paris or New York, you'll take me with you."

A chuckle bubbled from between her lips. Roger might be fickle with men, but he was undeniably devoted to fashion. "I'll think about it," she said. Not that she would ever date a wealthy man again.

"You're cruel," he accused, holding out her purse.

"Have to keep you motivated. The department gets strong enough, we won't need some benefactor to pay our way to fashion week."

"And meanwhile"--he sighed--"we settle for Sonoma."

"Wait 'til you see this place, Rodge. It definitely beats New York."
Chapter Two

"Okay, I am officially stealing you away," Gina declared, steering Sabella away from the bevy of cars that had somehow managed to arrive all together. Gina had driven up with the bride-to-be's sister, Trisha. They'd beaten the rest of the bridal party by a half hour, but then Gina had learned to drive in Boston.

Sabella craned her neck toward all the activity behind her. "What about my dress?"

Sighing, Gina stopped, pulled her sunglasses from her nose and into her hair, and scanned the milling crowd until her eyes landed on a curvy blonde in paint-splattered jeans. "Hey, Trisha?"

She spun toward them while everyone else continued unloading.

"Would you please make sure that no disaster befalls Sab's dress between here and our suite?"

Trisha nodded vigorously, rolling her eyes for good measure, and shooed them away.

Sabella laughed and looped her arm through Gina's. "Okay, what about your dresses?"

"We already hung them up. And anyway, you shouldn't be worrying about that." Gina led them to the terrace where various employees were setting up round tables and chairs. They skirted the bustling activity, keeping close to the wrought-iron fence that blocked off the overhang. Gently rolling vineyards splayed out beneath them in a blend of greens.

Sabella's shoulders dropped as she exhaled, leaning over the railing. "It's almost quiet here."

Gina chuckled. They'd spent five days surrounded by Sabella's and Kane's families, and Kane's bandmates, all in a lovely four-bedroom home in Mountain View. "Cramped" didn't quite cover it. The craziness of last-minute planning hadn't helped, adding to the chaos. The drive up had been the most relaxing time Gina'd had all week, until now.

She inhaled the crisp air, letting the peace envelop her. "It's so beautiful."

Ignoring the bustle behind them, they gazed out at the neatly organized rows below, glinting under the sun. Sabella'd fallen in love the second they saw a virtual tour of Cavaliere Vineyards. "Chivalry vineyards" she had not-quite-translated when they'd found it online. With the large yet secluded terrace opening onto this breathtaking view, it was an undeniably gorgeous setting for a wedding.

"You know?" Sabella turned toward her, smiling. "I'm kind of excited."

"Kind of? You're _kind of_ excited for your wedding? Maybe we should call it off."

Sabella's head tilted slightly to the side, her lips pursing. "You know what I mean. Everything has been so hectic lately, but now that we're actually here... This is really going to happen."

"I can't believe we pulled this thing off in less than a year."

Sabella hummed her agreement.

A breeze wound its way around their shoulders, and Gina straightened, exhaling. "All right, I'd say it's time for a welcome to Sonoma drink. Unless there's something you need to tell me?" she half-teased.

"A glass of wine sounds lovely," Sabella answered, trying to keep a straight face at the suggestion.

Elbows linked, they strode up to the secluded balcony bar with its own magnificent view. A few of the winery's patrons surrounded them, seated at wrought-iron tables with partially filled glasses and tiny cubes of cheese.

"Riesling okay?" Sabella asked. "Or a white Zin? They have this really interesting one with a bit of a raspberry flavor."

"Shouldn't I be the one buying?" Gina offered, picking up the tasting menu.

"I think the least I owe you is a glass of wine, Gi, with all your help, and putting up with everyone."

If anything, Gina owed Sabella--everything. "Your family's a piece of cake compared to mine, as you well know," she brushed off. "Or have you blocked any memory of the trauma?"

"Oh, shush you. Your family's wonderful."

"Loud. Overbearing. Completely nuts."

Sabella crooked an eyebrow.

"And, yes, wonderful," Gina agreed. "But you didn't have to invite them, you know."

"Of course I did. And anyway, it'll save you at least one of your mother's guilt trips about visiting home."

She had a point. Maybe.

As the bartender set out a couple of glasses, efficiently filling them with Riesling, Sabella added, "You know she's cooking brunch tomorrow?"

"You're kidding." Not that Gina was all that surprised. Her mother was physically incapable of not feeding everyone around her. "How did she bully you into it?"

"Bully me into accepting her free labor and delicious food?" They moved toward a lonely table in the shade, resettling a pair of chairs to face the view before lowering into them. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and she'll even make truffles," Sabella said after tasting the wine.

Gina took a long sip rather than answer, letting the pleasantly crisp white flow over her taste buds before swallowing.

"I tried to talk her out of it, since she's our _guest_ , and Kane offered to help out, of course, but she wouldn't have it." Sabella smirked. "She said it'd be good practice."

"Oh? Is Donny getting married?" Gina asked, deadpan.

Sabella chuckled. "It's too bad your brothers couldn't make it."

Gina hummed noncommittally. Annoying as he was at fifteen, Donny always made them laugh. Her older brother, Gerardo, wasn't half bad either. She did love and miss her family. She just usually loved them most in small doses or when they were on the other side of the country. But her best friend wanted them here, and the least Gina could do was ensure this weekend was all about Sabella.

* * * * *

"Gina, you've barely eaten. Are you sick?"

She'd had two servings of everything. "Ma, I ate plenty, I promise. And it was delicious. I've really missed your cooking." She squeezed her mom's familiar hand. "Sabella's lucky you made brunch."

"We all are," Bobby, Kane's bass guitarist, chimed in from across the table, picking up an empty bowl. "Thanks, Mrs. Sabatino."

Her mother's cheeks rounded as a blush spread over them. This wasn't that big a group by her mom's standards, but brunch really had been amazing. Gina would have bet everyone ate too much, unable to resist the tantalizing assortment. Their tables were still covered in nearly emptied dishes, which the groomsmen were slowly clearing.

Trisha broke away from the bride's and groom's families and swished over. "So everything's set for tonight, right?" She popped a lingering truffle into her mouth.

"I think so. Could you just confirm the limo one more time?" Gina asked.

"Oh, yeah. No problem."

"Beatrice, are you coming?" Sabella's mother called. She never seemed to shout, though her voice always carried as far as it needed to. It was as impressive as it was intimidating. Nothing at all like Gina's mom, who preferred to rely on guilt trips.

Trisha forced a smile. "Family bonding time." The families were heading up to Calistoga for the afternoon, though Trisha had promised to ensure they'd be back before Sabella's surprise bachelorette party. "You sure you're all set with treats and the cards and everything?" she asked.

"Treats? What treats?" Gina's mom interrupted, stacking empty plates for Kane's bandmates to take away.

"For the bachelorette party, Ma. I need to run out and pick some stuff up, but it'll be taken care of," she assured Trisha.

"Okay. Thanks again, Mrs. Sabatino. Brunch was unbelievable," Trisha said before hurrying off.

"I will come help you, with the treats, Gina," her mom declared.

"You didn't come here to work, Ma. You should take Dad, and go explore. It's beautiful out here."

"I can spend some time with you, and help you, and your _papi_ and I can explore tonight, when you girls are out. Or do you not want to spend any time with your mother, even though you never come out and visit."

Gina didn't even pretend that was a question. "You know I'd love your help. I just don't want you to miss out on seeing Sonoma. But I bet everyone would love it if you have some more of those truffles stashed away somewhere."

"I have extra chocolate, I'll make more for you girls, but I need sugar. We finish here, and we go to the store, okay?"

"You're leaving me?" Gina's dad chimed in with a smile, coming back to their table, drink in hand.

Gina threw her arm around his sturdy shoulders. "I'm stealing her away, just for a bit."

He chuckled, returning her embrace. " _Mi passerotta._ Why haven't you been home? _Ci manchi_."

"I know, _papi_ , I miss you guys, too." She'd spent the December holidays with Sabella's family, to help plan the wedding. And because after last summer, she'd needed more time before facing her family's overly perceptive gazes. "I'll come visit soon, I promise."

" _Ai_." Her mom's hand landed on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "She was busy, planning all this. And now, I'm here to help. So, let's go."

The groomsmen had already insisted on taking care of the dishes, and there wasn't a point in arguing anyway. Gina kissed her dad's cheek then looped her arm through her mom's. Sometimes, it was more than nice having them around.

* * * * *

Two hours later, Gina had changed her mind. Logically, she knew her mom meant well, but the poking and prodding questions about her life, and settling down, or moving home were enough to drive her up a wall. And then she'd been kicked out of the borrowed kitchen! Not that she didn't have plenty to do before tonight, and it was undeniably sweet of her mom to make all those chocolate-dipped snacks for them, but still.

Gina stalled in the vaulted entryway and debated--hallway one would take her back to the guest rooms, all filled this weekend with the bridal party, plus Gina's parents and Kane's manager; hallway two opened onto the main tasting room. It wasn't like having a glass of wine in the afternoon in the middle of wine country would be particularly notable. And she could use some time to wind down, so she didn't destroy tonight's goodies when putting them together. _Tasting room it is_.

The room was empty, but with the gorgeous weather, most visitors probably preferred the outdoor terrace. Gina chose a stool by the bar, absently tapping her fingers on the wood as she waited. Various wine-themed knickknacks covered display tables and shelves around the room. The faintest smell of wood somehow still lingered, though the construction was lacquered and far from new. Maybe they pumped it in for atmosphere.

She flattened her palm on the bar and sighed. Maybe the emptiness was a sign that a drink was a bad idea.

Before she could make her mind up to leave, a barman came out of the back room, carrying a fresh case, which he set down with a clunk. His eyes raked over her torso before his lips pulled into a crooked smile. "You look like you could use a drink."

"How extraordinarily perceptive."

His smile grew, crinkling around his eyes. "Maybe if you're nice to me, I'll pour you one."

Gina exhaled, focusing on the man before her. This was a game she'd mastered long ago, even if she was a bit out of practice. "Maybe if you're nice to me, I'll let you."

He strode closer. "What'll it be?"

"What are you offering?"

He picked up a towel and wiped off his hands before running his fingers over the bottlenecks arrayed between them. His faded tee shirt stretched slightly across his chest and shoulders as he moved. Deftly, he spun a glass from its spot out of sight and placed it silently on the bar. He uncorked a fresh bottle with a pop. A deep red gurgled into the glass.

Gina lifted it and took a long sip.

The barman's eyebrow crooked. "Glad I didn't pour you the good stuff."

She set the glass back down, half-drained, and shrugged. "I'll be paying you for it, regardless."

"Wine isn't about the money. It's about the experience." He fitted the bottle with one of those tops that control how much is poured at a time.

"Or the goal."

Friendly eyes caught her in their gaze. "There are better ways to de-stress, you know."

"Are you saying I seem stressed?"

"You're part of the bridal party, aren't you?" Another smile tugged at his lips. "Stress comes with the territory."

She leaned slightly over the bar. "And you're offering to make it all better?"

He sobered as his eyes trailed over all the skin exposed by her summery top. "How could I deny you?"

Gina traced the stem of her wineglass with her fingers, knowing exactly where his mind would go. "Is this a service you frequently provide, then?"

"Maybe I should start." He leaned onto his elbows on the bar, so their faces were almost even.

Gina's lips parted as she considered the man before her. Dark hair lay tousled, with stray locks drifting over his forehead. Symmetrical eyes demanded attention, easily holding their own with the strong line of his pronounced nose that drew her gaze to gently curving lips, set in a wash of stubble that flowed over a crisply defined jaw. De-stressing definitely didn't sound like a bad idea, if they played on her terms.

His eyebrows lifted in challenge.

She stood, picking up her wine, and scooped her purse off the stool beside her without breaking eye contact. He straightened and gestured to the far end of the bar. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as they moved toward it. The door he'd entered through was still open.

"After you," his voice sounded next to her.

"Aren't you going to get in trouble for this?"

Amusement or something like it flashed in his eyes. "I'll risk it."

Anticipation tingled through her. A short staircase led into a cellar of sorts, brightly lit by sunlight streaming through the high windows. Ignoring the footsteps that followed hers, Gina laid her purse on a stack of boxes. Glass in hand, she strode to the nearest wine rack, examining the wooden vees that separated the various vintages without really seeing them. She could handle the bartender, she reminded herself.

He came up behind her, and she casually took another sip. He brushed her hair away from her upper back, exposing the ties of her halter top and skin. His lips came to the curve of her shoulder, and the wine glass drifted down to her side. Warm fingers worked it from hers, and he stepped away to set it aside.

Gina turned to watch him as he moved back to her with an effortlessly comfortable gait. When he reached her, Gina tilted her chin up, and he obediently joined their lips. Heat from his body combined with the velvety touch, but slow surrender wasn't what she wanted. Palms splayed on his upper chest, she deepened the kiss, angling against his mouth. He followed swiftly, one hand cupping her head as the other landed over her ribs.

His tongue tangled with hers, easily finding the right balance between timid and overbearing, underscored by the light scrape of stubble. _Good kisser_. He led her backward as their tongues danced, and Gina's palms explored the muscles covered by his shirt.

His hand left her ribs, and he stopped the backward motion. A soft impact went through his shoulder as she looped her hands at his back. His lips broke from hers to tease a pattern down her neck, bristle scraping delightfully against her skin, sending shocks of sensation to replace the stress. Her head fell gently to the wall behind her, cushioned by his hand. Air chilled her skin as his mouth lifted away.

Gina opened her eyes. Had he changed his mind? He tugged her away from the wall, still bracing against it, and she lowered her arms, waiting for the explanation that didn't actually matter.

"Can't have you all scratched up for the wedding," he murmured above her.

Curving her lips with a confidence she didn't quite feel, she pressed her palm into his chest and pushed him in an arc until he bumped into the uneven wall. He smiled, settling his hands over her hips as she stepped nearer. Their mouths met again, melding together, and his fingers dipped under her top. He hesitated for the briefest moment before sliding one hand up. Her barely B-cup breasts meant she could forego bras, so his palm met skin, and his thumb brushed her nipple, sending a shiver through her.

Steeped in missed sensations, she broke their kiss to catch her breath. He brought both hands back to her ribs and lifted, pushing away from the wall so she could wrap her legs around him. Bumps in his pockets and a larger, much more intriguing lump pressed against her through the thin fabric of her skirt. He kissed the base of her neck, and she arched her back to encourage him lower. His tongue trailed circles down until he met the draped fabric of her top.

Bracing on his shoulders, she shifted her hips over him, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through her. His hands moved down to cup the back of her thighs, but he lifted his head. Gina ground her hips against him again.

"Dammit," he muttered, leaning away though his thumbs still slowly traced over her thighs.

She blew her breath out, unwrapping her legs. _So much for stress relief_. These little pauses were making her even more antsy.

Darkened brown eyes met her gaze. "No condom."

"Not a very well-thought-out plan, then, was it?"

"Guess not."

Silently, she turned away from him and walked over to her purse. Voices from the bar echoed down to them. He strode to the mini staircase and shut the door, pulling keys from his pocket. She plucked a condom from a hidden compartment, watching him. He left the keys in the lock. Mentally shaking off the intruding anxiety, she held up the tiny packet between two fingers.

He closed the distance between them, then snatched the condom and recaptured her mouth. She focused on the pleasant slip of their lips, the friction of their tongues, the delicious scrape of his stubble, the scent of him she couldn't quite place. Despite the interruptions, there was still a chance.

No strings. No commitments. No lasting connection.

Just some hopefully decent sex.

His hand played at the back of her neck, and suddenly the fabric of her top drooped, sliding to reveal her to the air and to him. He lifted her again, holding her slightly suspended as his lips closed over her breast. Gina's fingers dug into his biceps, her starved body drinking the sensation. She'd only been with a couple guys since last summer, and other than Kane's drummer, they had been utterly disappointing, further damping her faltering desire.

But the barman's gentle sucking stoked a buried blaze. He found another wall, leaning back as he wrapped an arm around her waist and slipped the other hand between her thighs, pulling the fabric of her skirt out of the way. The teasing licking shifted smoothly to her other breast. His fingers barely brushed against her as he fumbled between her legs, and then he pushed aside the wisp of almost-there fabric that was her thong and thrust inside.

Gina gasped as he stretched her, the sudden pressure bucking her against him. He recaptured her lips for a deep kiss that mimicked the rhythm of his hips. The fabric of his tee shirt rubbed her breasts as their bodies slipped together. Fingers still between her thighs flicked over her, tightening her around him. She braced one hand against the rough stone behind him, lengthening the timing of her movement, but soon his fingers threw it off in a shiver of pleasure, and his hips took over. He lessened their kiss, brushing their lips together as their breath mingled and their eyes met.

Pressure built between her thighs, but he maintained the relentless rhythm, stroking and circling until she broke their bare kiss to duck her head into the crook of his shoulder. His arm tightened around her waist, and she clenched her muscles in response, prompting a deeper groan. His rhythm faltered, and she smiled, until another flick of his fingers stole her breath and her control. He lasted through the first waves of her pleasure then stilled, spilling inside the thin barrier separating them.

She waited 'til their breath slowed and his arm slackened, then lifted away from him. His lips brushed her temple before he let her go, and Gina turned away as they both resettled their clothes. She shifted her shoulders as she retied her top, luxuriating in the electrified warmth that suffused her. It had been way too long since she'd had good sex, and almost as long since she'd wanted to, but the barman had surpassed expectations in the end, like a delightful palate cleanser. With one more deep breath, Gina gathered her purse.

He brought her wine glass over, watching her with the knowledge he'd gained and assuredness he hadn't earned. Gina took the glass and sipped the remaining wine with regained composure.

He smirked, unfazed, gesturing toward the wine with his chin. "What do you think?"

"It grows on you."

His chuckle followed her to the door.

Want more Gina & Hunter? Grab your copy of Tasting Temptation!
About Aria Glazki

Aria Glazki's first kiss technically came from a bear cub. Though no fairytale transformation followed, she still believes magic can happen when the right people come together--if they don't get in their own way, that is. So now Aria writes heartfelt romances about relatable people overcoming real-world obstacles to build love that lasts.

To learn more about Aria visit her website or follow her on Bookbub.
A Date With Fate by Tracy Ellen

What happens when a sassy, confident bookstore owner, who's a magnet for trouble, meets a dangerously sexy man with a secret agenda? A DATE WITH FATE!

Not a big fan of the 'true love" concept, Anabel Axelrod is no Cinderella waiting for Prince Charming to come and sweep her off her high heels. But when the happily single control enthusiast, who has a rule for everything in her life, especially for the men she dates, goes out with the not too tall, seductively dark, and not too handsome Luke Drake, she is appallingly fascinated to find herself addicted to his touch and lusting after the alpha male like no man before in her extensive dating career! But Luke Drake doesn't play by anybody's rules, especially Anabel's, to get what he wants - and he wants her at any cost. It doesn't take Anabel long to realize she is right to be extremely skittish because the mysterious new man in town is very tricky and he fights low-down, deliciously dirty!

Let the fun begin as Anabel and Luke, along with some fun-loving friends and a couple of bat-crap crazy relatives, embark on a suspenseful, exciting, roller-coaster-ride of a weekend! Packing plenty of heat, humor, and heart, if you're a fan of New Adult, Chick-Lit, or Steamy Contemporary Romance grab your copy of A Date with Fate today and prepare to become addicted, too!
Author Note

A preface from the author to the readers downloading A Date with Fate, currently a free, full-length, first book in an ongoing series for an adult audience: If you are offended by swearing, sexual fantasies and role playing you might not want to do at home, sexual content, some violence and/or cliffhanger endings in an ongoing series, please do not read this book. My goal as a writer is not to offend, but to entertain. On that note, I hope you have a lot of fun reading A Date with Fate's Chapter I Excerpt. Thank you!

Tracy Ellen
Prologue

Monday

9:00 AM

TO: anabelSR38@yahoo.com

FROM: anabelJR83@gmail.com

SUBJECT: What I did last weekend

Dearest NanaBel,

I'm hoping this email finds my favorite camel jockey in her usual fighting form. My mind pictures you lingering over an exotic drink by an oasis wearing a pith helmet and jodhpurs while surrounded by sexy men in long, white robes.

Meanwhile, back here in the tundra, we're finally getting the snow predicted for the last two days. It's really coming down, so I'm expecting a slow day at the store.

I've finished customizing the last report on the new inventory system. Total pain, but it should pay for itself in the short run. I'm flooded with data to analyze and trying to not wet my pants in excitement. Also, YTD numbers are kicking major butt over last year.

Now, don't fall off your hump when reading this, but I actually took this past weekend off to have fun. I know, right?

I'm sure my weekend fun didn't come near in comparison to the splendors of exploring the deserts of Ancient Egypt, or the splendors of exploring the personal tent of a Bedouin Sheikh. (Woman, thy name is Jezebel!)

But since you've asked repeatedly what I've been up to, and since I am a most dutiful granddaughter, and since I know you'll hear twenty different versions from twenty different people, and since we're speaking of jezebels...

Last Friday night, I had stayed home and was minding my own business when I fell asleep reading...
Let the Battles Begin!

"Free Your Mind" by En Vogue

Saturday, 11/17

2:30 AM

Before realizing I was even fully awake, I found myself sitting up at attention with my instincts screaming and adrenaline racing through my veins. My heart was beating so loud I couldn't determine what roused me over the pressure of the blood pounding through my head.

I live alone. I had spent a quiet Friday night at home by myself to start my weekend off from work. Last I remembered I had been lying on my bed, surrounded by several fluffy pillows for protection, and reading a surprisingly good zombie apocalypse book. I must have dozed off despite all the grisly excitement.

My room was pitch black. To get my bearings, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw the faint illumination of red numbers reading 2:31 AM. Okay, the power was working.

I concentrated on breathing to settle myself down. After a few seconds of breathing slowly, I could hear again. I held perfectly still and listened intently.

My bed faces the open doorway. There are no windows in the hallway outside my second floor bedroom. A yawning darkness offered no clues as to what had catapulted me from sleep.

I was beginning to think it was a zombie-induced hallucination that had scared me awake. I was cussing myself out for reading a scary book right before bed when I heard it again. On the floor near my bed is a register vent that allows me to hear noises on the ground floor below me. Straining to listen, I recognized the sounds of the hardwood floorboards squeaking in the main entrance lobby. The noise was distinctly audible as footsteps, if you knew what you were listening for. I have lived in this upstairs apartment since I was a kid and now own the entire old building. I know every squeak of every floorboard in the whole place-\- I know what to listen for.

_'What the hell...? Had someone really broken into my building?'_

I quickly pictured the layout downstairs. The main lobby is a large room situated in the northwest corner of the building. The entrance doors to the apartment and Bel's Books, my shop that encompasses the entire first floor of the building, are located off the lobby. All of these doors were locked.

I sat frozen unable to move. I was still in denial over the sounds I'd identified and had not reacted. The soft squealing noise I heard next meant the intruder had somehow unlocked the door leading up to my apartment. The acoustics of the high ceiling in the open staircase amplified every sound.

Now I was reacting. I was whispering aloud, "Oh my God, Oh my God!"

I had been meaning to get someone to fix the sticking door for the last week. Thanks to being a slacker, I knew someone was coming up the stairs.

Anytime I've been in tight spots in my past, I have been perfectly willing to bargain my soul and convert right then and there. I vowed fervently to be a good girl for the rest of my life. In my head, I recited my lifetime litany of these negotiations.

_'Oh, please, please! Get me out of this in one piece. I swear I'll never do anything bad again...'_

It seemed like I waited an eternity, but it was probably only another heartbeat before my brain took over my wimpy, codependent subconscious and shouted, _'Get your butt up and do something yourself!'_

Thinking weapons, my next immediate thought was to grab my gun from the nightstand drawer-\- a stellar idea except for the fact my Glock 9mm was currently with my cousin on a gun safety and handling retreat up north in Duluth. I swore silently at the irony Candy was learning how to safely use my weapon while I had to handle a home invader with my good looks.

My mind was racing a mile a minute. Pushing aside the chenille throw I'd been dozing under, I reached for my cell phone in the dark. I patted all around the surface of the nightstand. I felt my book and my empty gelato bowl, but no cell.

I then remembered I had left it charging in the bathroom down the hall, close to the stairs. I couldn't take the risk of trying to sneak over there without being heard and possibly intercepted. Even if I did make it there without being heard, I could still end up being trapped in the bathroom with no phone because mine had been dying intermittently lately. I probably need a new battery.

With my heart beating a frenzied double time in my chest, I stood up and concentrated on listening. It wasn't long before I detected another stealthy sound on the stairs. The creak I heard was near the landing leading to the foyer.

_'Crap, crap, crap!'_ I bit my lip, hurriedly thinking over my options. I desperately needed a plan right about now. The urge to freak out was not a plan. I suspected it was not a good idea to give in to the temptation to lie on the floor and play dead like I did in bad dreams when monsters were chasing me. I could hide, but probably would be easily found since my bedroom has no great hiding spots like a secret panic room complete with a big, red button.

I was majorly bumming I hadn't paid more attention when my girlfriends had been discussing the importance of always having an aerosol can and a lighter within easy reach. Tipsy on vodka tonics at the time, I thought it had seemed unwieldy, and a tad brutal, to choose to set someone on fire with a Rube Goldberg flamethrower as a defense when you could simply shoot them. What I wouldn't give now for a supersized can of Raid and a Bic.

Sadly, I am not a secret ninja or a supernatural female. All 5-foot-1-inch and a hundred and four pounds of me is an entirely mortal, girly-girl. The odds are decidedly stacked against me winning over most men in a physical fight. No matter how I looked at it, without my gun to scare off the intruder, I was screwed.

A flash of inspiration had me dropping to my knees on the rug. I urgently felt around under my bed for the forgotten weapon of choice before I purchased my pistol.

_'Yes!'_

I sprang back up, immediately feeling a little tougher with the Louisville Slugger in hand. A crack with a bat could give me some time. If anyone came into this room, my plan was a simple one. Hit and run.

Outside my bedroom windows are bright streetlights. I need total darkness to sleep well. At night, lined draperies are always pulled tightly closed across the windows on either side of my bed. Right now, I was really happy with this quirk of mine. As long as the intruder wasn't wearing night vision goggles, the blackout conditions could give me the advantage of surprise.

On TV, it shows green lights flickering around their heads when people wear those creepy, alien-looking goggles. In that event, Plan B would be to flip on the overhead light, blind them, and then continue with my Plan A of hit and run.

A bubble of hysteria rose in my throat when I realized I was basing my escape on the accuracy of a freaking television show.

' _Why would green lights be flickering around their head if they were wearing NVGs? Wasn't the whole blasted point to have the advantage in the dark, not be lit up like a neon sign?'_

I was losing it and seriously contemplating nailing myself in the head with the bat, so I could pass out to avoid whatever was coming my way.

Standing there, I was chilled and shaky, goose bumps popping up all over my body. I'm not the type that gets cold easily. I knew it was from being hyped-up. It didn't help that my long hair was still damp from my earlier bath, and I was wearing a little nothing of a nightgown so short it barely covered my shivering butt. I almost shrieked when I heard a faint rustle of cloth and a definite creak of the top stair. The sound galvanized me into action.

I swiftly crossed the floor of my room, but stayed on the thick pile of the area rug to avoid noise. I stood slightly behind the halfway open door. I didn't want to try and close the door; it would serve no purpose. It doesn't lock and is squeaky like everything else in my old building.

I hefted the bat in readiness. It was likely I'd only get one good swing and I needed to make it count. If I missed-\- well, my mind wouldn't even go there.

A few agonizing seconds later, I heard the intruder pause on the threshold of my doorway. I held my breath. I heard a soft footfall and then another. With the third step, the person was now squarely in my bedroom. With my eyesight more adapted to the darkness, I guessed it was a man by his general height and width of shoulders. His vague outline seemed tall, but it was hard to be sure. Even under the best of circumstances, most men appear tall from my vantage point.

I tried to ignore my churning stomach and keep a level head. I strove to feel a little calmer, more coherent. I've always sworn I would not be that girl that fell down in her high heels when being chased by a man. Now was the time to prove it.

Those thoughts were all a quick flash across my racing brain as I acknowledged one, indisputable fact with a tingling, dizzy sensation. By coming straight to my room as he unerringly had, this man proved he meant to come after me.

Within the first moments, I realized it was too dangerous to go for his head in the dark. I readjusted my aim for the vicinity of his knees. Even as I swung the bat, I sensed movement in the air around me. My swing was prematurely halted against something solid with a loud WHAP! It sounded like an open hand. My heart plunged. I had somehow broadcast my intent. I felt a sharp yank and the bat went flying out of my slippery grip. I heard the muffled thud of the bat when it landed on the rug somewhere in the dark room. My only weapon may as well be on Mars.

Above me, a deep voice softly hissed, "That wasn't a very nice way to greet me."

_'Holy Freakin' Moly!'_

I didn't wait around to chat. I pivoted and took off running for the open doorway. I hadn't gone two feet when I was caught mid-stride by arms locking around my waist tighter than bands of steel. I let loose with a startled scream as I was swung around like a rag doll. My feet were off the ground, and my back pulled against a chest that felt as hard as granite.

My next move was a knee-jerk reaction; it was a Déjà vu move from my childhood fights that had always resulted in a quick getaway. I pried up one of his fingers at my waist with both of my hands. I wrenched it backwards with a jerk.

"Dammit!" his voice spit out in the darkness. He snatched his hand away from mine.

_'It worked!'_

Unfortunately for me, it didn't work for more than a second. I had no chance to get at his other hand to free myself before he quickly maneuvered and repositioned his hold. Now he entrapped both my arms against the front of my body. One of his arms was across my chest and the other around my hips.

I kicked at him backwards. I tried to twist my body to knee him in the jewels. Like a vice, his arm clamped across my hips prevented that move. I couldn't get at him. If his low laughter was any indicator, kicking him furiously barefoot wasn't doing him any damage but really hurt the hell out of my toes.

He stepped us nearer to the vicinity of my bed. Right at that very instant, I learned something new about myself I've never before had a reason to know. I hate being bound without the use of my arms. My response came from deep within me at some primal level, and instinctually, my reaction was to fight like a wildcat. I bucked my body, kicked my legs, and tried to smash my head back against his face-\- anything to throw him off stride and give me an opening to get loose.

He made a mockery of my efforts by easily controlling my frenzied attempts to get free. As if to emphasize his total power over me, he put his hand over my breast and squeezed. Throwing my head wildly around didn't stop his tongue from licking up my throat to my ear.

He growled, "You aren't going anywhere, little girl, but try all you want."

His touch and guttural voice held me frozen in suspended shock for an instant. This was really happening to me.

I used every trick I had ever been taught to break his holds. Too bad these tricks were from years ago, and against my sisters. I haven't been in an actual physical fight since I was thirteen. I can verbally slay Hannibal Lector into a blubbering fool without breaking a sweat, but I am not a kick-ass fighter against a man. I was captured with no use of my arms. I was unable to turn my hips, so my legs were useless, too. I still had a functioning brain, though. I allowed my body to relax and go heavily limp in his arms, as if in a dead faint.

He took advantage of my feigned slump and stuck his hand down the front of my nightgown, cupping and squeezing my breasts. His other hand moved to my naked butt and he pinched me hard.

Unexpectedly shocked from my coma, I inadvertently yelled, "Ouch!"

He laughed at my pained reaction. Until I jumped up and snapped my head back, catching his mocking mouth with the top of my skull. It felt like his front teeth were embedded to the gums in my cranium. I didn't think grown-ups had soft spots, only infants. Apparently mine never fused.

The man recovered quickly. With a bounce, he hoisted me up higher against him. His hand roved all over my ass and the back of my thighs. He held me close against him to limit my range of motion. His mouth was hot on my ear whispering words I couldn't distinguish or be sure were even in English.

I wrenched my head away as far as I could to avoid his mouth, but couldn't move my hips enough to avoid his busy hand. I felt his fingers strumming boldly down my rear end. Then I felt those fingers move between my legs and the vibration of another mocking laugh against my neck.

I erupted against him like a woman possessed-\- blindingly out of control of anything I was doing or yelling. I was only dimly aware of kicking and scratching, head butting, throwing myself from side to side, and even snapping at his face. Had he come within range, I would have eaten his face off zombie-style and then asked for seconds. I don't know how long it took before his excited laughter started to penetrate my futile haze of bloodlust.

I could hear the underlying sexual tension in his voice as he held me to him, goading me on while whispering he was stronger and would always win.

The next thing I knew, I went sailing through the air in the darkness. I landed on my bed and bounced not once, but twice. My antique bedsprings were squeaking protests louder than my own shrieks. He snapped on the bedside lamp and tore his T-shirt off over his head by the time I came to a stop from the bouncing. I was disoriented at the sudden blaze of light and struggling to catch my breath.

Still, I hurriedly rose up, but didn't get much further than my elbows before his hand circled around the front of my neck and pushed me slowly back down against my pillows. The man was a fuzzy blur as he stood next to the bed. I pulled with all my strength on his hand casually surrounding my throat. It wasn't even a huge, monster hand. This guy was seriously strong or I am incredibly weak. Either way, I couldn't get free of him.

His hand slid off my neck and glided slowly downward. He spread his hand and his fingers dipped under the neckline of the gown. His splayed hand was lying across the top curve of my breasts, exerting no apparent effort, yet I was held firmly down on the bed. Unbelievably, I was unable to do much more than lift my head from the bed pillows.

In my bedroom, my hitched breathing was the only sound in the silent night around us as we continued battling. I soon realized it was a one-sided struggle because he was doing nothing but standing next to the bed and holding me down. He was probably getting off on the view every time I lashed out at him with a kick. I couldn't let that stop me.

He blocked my attempts to maim him with kicks by using his left knee to pin down my thighs. I got a quick glance of a bare foot. Seeing he had taken the time to remove his shoes and socks made me shudder. He had planned for this night. His right foot stayed planted on the floor by my bed.

During this time, I still couldn't see his face. He was a dark shadow backlit by the light from the lamp. Even with my vision restored, my damp hair lying across my eyes in tangles made trying to see an adult version of peek-a-boo. But then the man was lifting his hand off my chest and I knew it was my golden opportunity.

So I went for his balls.

With a surprised grunt, he adroitly avoided my fist by turning his body towards his right. This caused my punch to bounce harmlessly off his left thigh, but I had anticipated this move and my left hand was already in motion.

I was an inch from my goal of causing a painful distraction when his right hand shot out. The man gave a little shake to my fist in his grip and mockingly made a "tsking", chiding sound, as if disappointed in me for missing.

I ignored his taunts, focused on pulling my hand back out of his grip.

He responded by forcibly lifting my arm up, and then over my head. He pried open my clenched fist and pressed my fingers firmly around one of the iron bars of my headboard. He kept his much larger hand tight around mine.

His free hand went for my other wrist. My free hand knocked his away. He kept coming back and grabbing for me. I kept batting his hand away. It was a Three Stooges moment. It would have been funny, if I got to be Moe instead of Curly on the receiving end. He managed to capture my wrist with a hand as tight as a manacle. He made this hand hold another bar on my headboard. My arms were held up high, and my hips and upper thighs were trapped under the weight of his angled body.

In my mind that tiny voice popped up again, the wussy one that prayed for help. Wussy voice whispered insidiously how easy it would be to give in, admit defeat, and let this man win with no more fight from me.

_'Yeah, right!'_

I laid a smack down on that little cowardly voice and took several calming breaths. Surrender is not a word in my vocabulary.

I concentrated on my next move, or tried to come up with one. There weren't many options to choose from. I'd have to be ready to act when I got the chance.

Now that I was held down and temporarily still, I was acutely aware of the fact I may as well be nude for all the cover my nightgown afforded. In his position of leaning against me, he was intently checking out what he could easily survey above and under the sheer lace, namely most of my breasts.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. Based on his earlier grabbing and now his intense expression, my attacker seemed to have a thing for boobs. I really, really wanted to wipe that arrogantly leering expression off his face. I took a fortifying breath and made myself focus on how to get away, determined not to give up against his greater strength. My damn brain had to count for something. I just needed to keep my wits about me and outsmart him.

As if he sensed my racing thoughts, he roused himself. He sat up straighter, removing his hands from over mine around the iron bars. I instantly started to lower my arms.

He raised his hand sharply in warning, but still spoke softly. "Do not take your hands off those bars."

The calmness of his tone was so normal in contrast to his raised hand that I involuntarily obeyed without thinking.

I jerked my eyes up, meeting his squarely for the first time tonight. Distinctive green eyes challenged me. His mouth looked cruel. His full lips curled with a patronizing smirk, clearly getting a kick from my dilemma.

He continued to read my mind. His voice was pleasantly conversational over the implied threat. "I'll only tell you this once. If you take your hands off the bars, you will be punished. Do you understand me?"

The man didn't even wait for my response. By my silence, he was confident I was too intimidated to think of disobeying him. It almost drove me beyond endurance this guy could dream for a minute he'd won that easily. It wasn't easy, but I made myself demurely lower my eyes in pretended submission and bided my time.

When he slowly pulled my nightgown down, I determinedly kept my eyes closed. As he must have intended, with my arms stretched over my head and from the tightness of the stretched neckline pushing up underneath, my breasts were high on display in exaggerated offering. My nipples were erect from the rough friction of the lace, his hands, and the cold air. As he touched me and looked his fill, I set aside the feelings of wishing to kick his ass into the middle of next week with every fiber of my being. I forced myself into calmness, and then used what weapon I did have to create a diversion, my girly-girlness.

Hands around the bars behind me, I let out some feminine squeaks. I tossed my head in agitation. I shook my shoulders to and fro, quivering in my modesty. My bed helped; it bounced and squeaked a little too.

His total attention glued where I wanted, he was starting to lean forward. Without warning, I quickly brought both my knees up and then slammed into his side with both feet flat. I gave him the heave-ho, using the strength and momentum of my legs. Holding onto the bars actually gave me greater leverage. He had been in motion, his foot wasn't planted on the floor any longer, and my comforter fabric was slippery. I had finally caught the man completely off guard.

I didn't once let up my attack to allow him to catch his balance. I kept up the pressure of frenzied kicking and pushing until he slid right off my silky duvet.

Legs and arms flailing, he yelled, "Shit!"

He landed hard on the floor with a solid THUMP!

"Yes!" I screamed triumphantly when he went over the side.

Hopping to my knees on the bed and scrambling to the edge, I was about to make a jump for the door and freedom, but my luck was short lived. The only thing I managed to get was a quick tug up of my nightgown's neckline before I saw the top of his head rising up from the floor along the side of the bed.

Remembering his threat of punishment, I threw myself backwards and grabbed the iron bars of the headboard. I hit with enough force the bed posts smacked against the wall just as he sprang up from the floor like some kind of warp speed jack-in-the-box.

He stood looking down at me, hands on his hips. Gazing back, trying to look innocent, I was berating myself silently for not trying for the door, regardless of the consequences. My only small satisfaction was seeing him breathing heavier for the first time. My eyes dropped lower. I could not stop staring at the sight of his tanned, cut abs above his low riding jeans. They rippled with every breath he took.

When extremely nervous or emotional, my mind sometimes goes AWOL and thinks bizarre thoughts as a coping tool. Right now, all I could think about was how did this man manage to still be so tan when it was near Thanksgiving? Did he use a tanning booth? Get sprayed? Have his abs "highlighted" to accentuate the definition? I imagined him in a hair bonnet while giving precise instructions on how to get a spray tan. I had to turn my face into my shoulder to muffle my sudden choke of crazed giggles. A small snort escaped, but I hurriedly coughed to disguise the sound.

He solved my attention deficit problem when I heard the clinking noise of his belt buckle. Without saying one word, he made my desire to laugh curl up and die instantly. He unhooked his belt buckle and started to pull the belt from the loops on his jeans.

Heart thumping madly, I looked up to see his narrowed eyes watching my face. His black brows almost met in the middle over his fierce scowl. His mouth was a thin line.

My eyes opened as wide as they could go after hearing the belt buckle sound, so I didn't have to fake that. I swallowed hard over the dry lump in my throat. I moistened my lips with my tongue. I blinked and tried for sweetly reasonable, even if it was to tell a lie.

"Um...Mister, you'll notice I didn't take my hands off the bars?"

He ignored me. He paused, then let go of his belt. He undid the top button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Emboldened with relief at the immediate threat of pain off the table, and ignoring the zipper part, I was done with being reasonable. Sweet has never worked all that well for me anyway.

So I jeered at him.

"I almost think you didn't have fun getting kicked to the floor by a girl. Hey, you never said I couldn't throw you off the bed like the annoying little meat puppet you are."

Right then, as I heard myself talking smack, I swear I was having an out-of-body experience. I had a vision of the entire scene, as if I was perched up in a corner of the ceiling with a birds-eye view of the room. I saw a tough, half-naked man looming over a sassy, half-naked woman. She looked tiny sprawled out on the big bed, holding onto the iron bars behind her, running her big mouth like a lunatic.

Maybe I was being strategic and thought I had a better chance with him mad and out of control. Maybe I wanted to prove he could restrain me physically, but he couldn't break my will. Maybe I am just such a smart ass I can't keep my mouth shut, no matter what the situation.

So I laughed in his face.

"Why, I do believe the big man isn't used to getting his ass kicked to the floor by a little girl," I drawled, giving another, much more exaggerated shimmy. "Oh, you're so very tough and so very strong, I'm shaking."

It felt mighty fine to smirk up at him for a change.

For about two seconds.

Until all hell broke loose.

When I had begun taunting him, he seemed to ignore my provocation. He had stood silent, arms akimbo, with no expression on his face.

He looked me straight in the eyes. I almost choked on my own breath when he let me see the blazing intent in his face. His dark glance swept over me, as if appraising where to get started to make me pay for my comments.

I knew he had decided where to start when his attention fixed on the V of my clamped together thighs and he smiled broadly. It was a nasty smile. I unthinkingly twisted my body to get away from his blazing eyes.

That was stupid.

His short laughter was as nasty as his smile. My move gave him an eyeful of my entire bare-assed backside. I couldn't do anything about that right now, but I vowed fervently I'd never go to bed without undies again.

Simultaneously with these thoughts, I desperately flung myself off the bars towards the opposite side of the wide bed. I kept rolling, but I felt my ankle snagged. Caught in his grip, I kicked wildly as he dragged me back parallel to the edge of the bed where he was standing. Swiftly, he pulled down his unbuttoned jeans and kicked them away.

Shouting, I scooted away backwards as fast as I could go, practically crabbing it on all fours. I shouted again when he stretched over me and gripped my shoulders. His strong hands snapped both the fragile spaghetti straps of my nightgown. In one swoop, he tore it down and off of me like he was a magician whipping a tablecloth off from under a feast-laden dining table. It was done so efficiently, I didn't have time to even flinch.

I clambered up to my knees, frantically trying to cover myself. I swore hotly in his face, "You...you ASS, you are so going to pay for that!"

With that incredibly lame threat hanging in the air, I dove again towards the other side of the bed. The big man gave a battle cry and dove onto the bed after me. When he landed, the bedsprings wailed. The end of the bed screeched crookedly sideways, scraping about a foot across the hardwood floor.

I shrieked when I felt him grip my naked hips. The force of his hands collapsed me face first into my comforter with a gasping "Oomph!"

My enraged curses were muffled, but his answering war whoops of victory reverberated loudly in the silent room. He squeezed my ass with both his hands before flipping me onto my back like I weighed nothing. I was lying across the width of the bed. He was beside me, naked and grinning.

I tried to move my feet on the slippery comforter under me. I wanted off this bed. It was an irrational goal. Even if I could get past him, the floor offered no better refuge, but I was way past making sensible choices and was reacting solely on instinct. My wildly bicycling feet kept sliding out in front of me.

I screamed in frustration when I saw him watching my sorry performance to get away with an unholy leer. I was a nude woman going nowhere fast and bouncing all over the place. I swung to slap that smug look off his face, but he deflected my hand. He pounced, and I was completely enveloped from head to toe with his much larger body. I felt him hard and heavy between my legs.

I bucked, heaved, and pushed trying to propel him off me. The man pinned my hands to the bed on either side of my face and rode me until I tired, never once losing that superior grin.

Nothing I did fazed him and it made me insane. Feeling a fiery blush of heat wash over my cheeks, I closed my eyes. Not in fear or defeat, but because I was so goddamn mad I was no real match for his physical strength. I had really tried to beat him and get away tonight, any way I could. I wanted to burst with the roiling emotions churning up my insides. I hate losing. I can't remember the last time I lost at anything important.

He rose up on both elbows. I slowly opened my eyes to see him looking down impassively at my scowling face. His neutral expression couldn't disguise the triumph glittering in those green eyes. If my eyes could kill, he'd be dead meat.

The man suddenly smiled. The arrogant ass had straight teeth that were startling white against his tanned skin. And he had one dimple.

Reaching back behind with one hand, he pulled open my nightstand drawer and grabbed a condom. Never taking his intense gaze from mine, he tore it open and smoothed it down over his erection with no wasted motions.

He ordered softly, "Enough play. Put your arms around my neck and hold me tight."

I was pinned flat on my back and in no position to negotiate. I didn't let that minor fact stop me from taking my time thinking over his words. Our faces were only inches apart. He watched me with wary, lowered eyes while I slowly ran my hands up his thickly muscled arms. I trailed my fingers along the top of his smooth-skinned shoulders. Still inherently unable to give in completely, I held him loosely about his neck with my arms crossed at the wrists.

I waited.

He gave me a sardonic look and lifted one black eyebrow.

I moaned softly at that single, arched brow and finally obeyed to the letter of his demands. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck. With both hands, I ran my long fingernails through the back of his hair against his scalp. I pulled his face down to mine.

I whispered an inch from his lips, "You win. Tonight."

He kissed me in answer. Wild, endless, drugging kisses. I lost myself in abandon. I was in the place where conscious thought has no meaning. Nothing existed beyond the man and the touch of our heated, entwined bodies on the bed.

Poised above me, he murmured against my mouth, "Christ, I've missed you."

He kissed me deeper and continued to prove it.

Much later, he gave me a little squeeze within his arms. "Seriously, a baseball bat, Anabel?"

I lay across his chest, my face nuzzled in his warm neck. I was too exquisitely exhausted to move, but I couldn't help my tiny grin at his aggrieved tone.

I murmured drowsily, "No harm, no foul balls, right?"

His hands around my waist slid lower. He positioned me on top of him while responding dryly, "Yeah, it was a real no-hitter."

I laughed.

Sleep's vastly overrated.

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About Tracy Ellen

Tracy Ellen was born in Indiana to middle-class parents, the third out of five hellions. She's lived in the Upper Midwest her whole life--in a small town, on a farm, and in the big city. Currently, she resides in the suburbs of St Paul, Minnesota with her incredibly tolerant, awesome husband and family. Always an avid reader of all genres, her writing career began in 2012 with the debut of A Date with Fate, a blend of contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and romantic comedy. Now a USA Today Bestselling Author, Tracy's goal as a romance writer is to create book worlds readers want to escape into for a few hours of tantalizing twists and turns steamy fun before arriving at the heart-warming HEA everybody craves. Happy reading!

To learn more about Tracy please visit her website or follow her on Bookbub.
Prairie Storm by Tessa Layne

**Will lightning strike twice for love?**

Sparks fly when Axel Hansen is forced to host his former lover, meteorologist Haley Cooper, in order to keep his ranch in the black. Their chemistry may be explosive, but Haley is determined to guard her heart. Axel and Haley are forced to confront their feelings in the face of a deadly tornado outbreak. Will their love be strong enough to weather even the worst storms?

_This second chance romance contains smoking hot chemistry, and an epic happy ever after that will leave you crying and laughing._
Author Note

I absolutely adore Second Chance Romances. It's one of my favorite tropes. Axel and Haley are both headstrong and love their careers, and I wanted to explore the challenge of managing somewhat dangerous, conflicting careers with all consuming love. Set against the backdrop of tornado season in the Flint Hills, Prairie Storm is still one of my favorite books!

Happy reading,

Tessa
Winds of Change

Axel Hansen stopped whistling and stared in disbelief at the text he'd just received from his brother, Gunnar.

_G: I thought you said we had interns arriving from K-State not scientists from CPARC_

"What in the hell is CPARC?" The phone buzzed again.

_G: Pops says they're arriving in 20?_

"Jesus." Axel gripped the phone harder, wishing like heck he could toss it into the nearest water trough. So much for enjoying a quick swim in the creek before his interns arrived. He'd been looking forward to a dip in the icy water all morning, too. He could always count on Pops putting a damper on his fun.

If he sorted this quickly, maybe he could at least stick his feet in the water for five minutes. Enjoy the fresh spring air and breathe in a little peace and calm before channeling the frenetic energy of college kids. He might not have the same tireless energy as an undergrad, but he wasn't too old to inject a little fun into each day. Have a few laughs. Why work if it couldn't be fun too? He glanced at the time as he stalked out of the bunkhouse in search of Gunn and Pops. Maybe luck would be on his side. He tapped his phone.

_A: Where are you?_

_G: Training arena._

_A: On my way_

Axel jammed the phone in his pocket and tried to rein in the stream of irritation shooting through him. Of course Pops was interfering in his decisions again. Ruining his perfect balance of fun and hard work. Why should he expect something different? "He's still in charge," Axel spoke to a horse munching lazily in the paddock.

And Eddie Hansen would be until the day he finally decided to let Axel and Gunnar buy him out. Axel had been waiting ten years to take over the ranch operations with his brother. To update and innovate. And for ten years he'd struggled under the hawkeye of his overbearing father. Been undermined and bossed like he was still an unruly teenager. And today would be no different.

By the time Axel reached the arena, he'd clamped down on his ire enough to have a conversation, although it simmered just under the surface. Going at Pops head on never worked. Humor was the only way he'd ever managed to deal with his father. Especially when Pops got a burr stuck up his ass. For starters, it beat breaking things with his fist. And Pops wouldn't listen to him anyway, so why give the old man the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under Axel's skin?

The arena door stood wide open and Axel paused a moment just inside to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. His dad and brother stood on the far side of the arena, heads bent together. A thread of worry snaked through him, which he immediately brushed away. Maybe this time Gunn would help deflect some of the tension that always seemed to arise between them. He squared his shoulders, put on his cheeriest smile, and called out as he crossed the empty space. "What's going on, Pops? We've got interns coming later this afternoon. Gunn says we have scientists too?"

Eddie Hansen's blonde head snapped up. "That's not my problem, son. That was your harebrained idea."

"You mean hosting interns was my brilliant idea," Axel grinned, letting his mouth stretch a little wider. "Which I ran by you three months ago."

Eddie's eyes widened in disbelief.

"At poker night with Uncle Warren." Axel stroked his chin, ignoring the press of frustration below his collarbone. "I seem to recall you saying it was a _great_ idea then." Of course, Pops might have had three beers in him and was feeling pretty relaxed when Axel had broached the subject, but he still should have remembered. He remembered the deals he made over poker games, why not this?

"Hmph." Eddie answered dismissively, and turned back to the clipboard Gunnar held. "You'll have to call them off."

These arguments always felt worse in front of Gunnar. Gunnar the golden child. Gunnar the perfect. A tendril of jealousy licked through him. He loved his brother, had worshipped him when they were kids. And that was part of the problem - _everyone_ loved Gunn.

But him? He was an afterthought. The sidekick. The joker. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake that perception.

But he was sure as hell going to try again today.

Axel bit his tongue and counted to three. "I can't, pops," he said evenly - a win given how close he was to blowing his stack. But he'd never throw a temper tantrum. Not in front of Pops or Gunn, or anyone else for that matter. It was bad for relationships _and_ business. And he'd never give either of them the satisfaction of losing his cool. Not today, not ever. "I _won't,_ " he amended. "It would be bad PR for us."

That got Eddie's attention. It was the only card Axel had to play today, but it would be enough. His father was prideful. Overly prideful, so he pressed his point. "How would it look to the alumni association that one of their biggest donors bailed out on a bunch of interns?" Axel let that sink in. The K-State community was small, and Hansen stables relied on many alums for business.

"Furthermore," Axel continued, "they're giving us a stipend. Are these scientists from CCRAP paying you?"

Gunnar sniggered. At least someone thought his joke was funny.

Eddie scowled. "Hold on a fat second, son. Zack Forte is a personal friend and I'm doing this as a favor to him."

"And he's a gazillionaire who can afford to pay you a little something for your trouble," Axel countered, his voice becoming more clipped. "A lot of something."

"He buys our livestock. That's enough."

Not nearly.

Axel shook his head tsking. "This is why we're barely in the black. You gotta think with the business brain." He tapped his temple, giving his father a saucy wink. "I mean, we all know you've got a man crush on the dude, but seriously... didn't you always teach us to think with the brain up here?"

Gunnar snorted, covering a laugh.

Eddie's eyes flashed. "What are you saying, Son? That I don't know how to run my ranch?" Eddie's voice grew cold.

Goddammit. He'd pushed his father too far. Again. Axel stretched his hand at his side to avoid making a fist. He knew better than to take on his father when the steely glint flashed in his eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."

Eddie's hard gaze swept between Axel and his brother. "Let me remind you boys I'm still in charge here, and I will be until the day I'm ready to let you buy me out."

Axel rolled his eyes. He _hated_ it when his dad pulled the boss card. Hamstrung his ideas for innovation or cost-cutting. He clamped his jaw down, grinding his teeth. He was thirty-two for chrissakes. Not a kid anymore. How much longer was he going to have to wait before he could run things the way he saw fit? "And when's that gonna be, Pops? Gunn and I aren't getting any younger."

Eddie narrowed his eyes. "You can start by settling down. We've got a legacy to pass on, and all you two are concerned with is joking around."

"That's all Axe," Gunn offered with a little smirk.

"Aww, c'mon." Heat raced up Axel's spine. "You're not all business, and you know it. You can have fun and still have a good business." These conversations exhausted him. They happened so often he could predict what would be said next.

Eddie crossed his arms, mouth flattening. "You two don't like the way I run things? No one's keeping you here."

Axel clamped his jaw and took a slow breath, hands on his hips. There was the rub. No one _was_ keeping him here. His dad had made it perfectly clear for years that he was welcome to leave if he didn't like it. But there was a cost to leaving Eddie had laid out years ago that was unacceptable to Axel. So he'd stuck it out, chomping at the bit to be his own man.

Axel's heart thudded heavily against his ribs. He loved his family more than anything. Losing them wasn't an option. "You're right, Pops." It hurt him to say that, but he'd just have to keep trying to find a way to be at peace with his dad's decisions. Especially when they conflicted with his own. Resignation sank through him. "I'll figure something out." He spun on his heel and stalked out of the arena, mind spinning with alternatives. If he was successful at one thing, it was coming up with new ideas. His brain teemed with them.

The bright sunshine momentarily blinded him and he reached for the sunglasses he kept in his breast pocket as he dialed his sister.

"'Sup Axe?" Hope's voice held a cheerful lilt.

Axel couldn't help but smile. Married life suited his sister. She'd softened in all the right ways and her confidence was contagious.

"I'm hoping you can help me out of a jam."

She chuckled low. "Let me guess, Pops have you over a barrel again?"

"Something like that."

Her voice grew serious. "You don't have to stay, Axe. Everyone can see you've only got a half a heart in your work."

"You would too, if the rug was pulled out from under you at every turn." Bitterness rose in his throat. "He won't take me seriously."

"Welcome to the club," she said wryly. "But you don't exactly make it easy. It's not like you take anything very seriously."

That chapped him. "What else am I going to do? Why shouldn't we have fun? What's the point if we're not?"

"Exactly. What _is_ the point, Axe? You don't have to stay."

Except that he did. Eddie was so hung up on a Hansen legacy he'd made it clear that if Axel wanted a future stake in Hansen Stables, he'd not only have to stay, but produce an heir. With Eddie it was all or nothing. Axel reached the training pen on the far side of the complex and paused, kicking at the post.

"I've sunk the last ten years of my life into the stables. And Dad would disown me. And now that Maddie has a baby..."

Hope snorted. "He didn't disown me."

"You're a girl."

"You're a sexist. Now, do you want my help or not?"

"I've got four students from K-State set to arrive later this afternoon for a two month internship. Dad informed me that there are two scientists coming from Zack Forte's group and he's insisting we put them up here."

"Two months?"

His stomach sank at the hesitation in her voice. "I know. It's a big inconvenience, but I'll make it worth your while. K-State is providing us a generous stipend. It's yours. It should more than cover room and board."

He hated losing the stipend. Worse, he hated asking his little sister for help. He was the one who was supposed to take care of her, have _her_ back. Not ask her to bail him out. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "Any chance you have room over there?"

"Ben is down by the creek today putting the finishing touches on the tree houses. They'd have to double up because we already have bird watchers lined up for two of them... and they'll be... rustic."

"I'll take it." Relief washed over him. One crisis averted, at least. Question was, when would his dad cause another? Because there _would_ be another, and he'd be the one looking bad. Again. His throat tightened at the knowledge.

"Axe?" Hope's voice cut through.

"What?" he barked, then instantly regretted his tone of voice. Hope was throwing him a rope, not chastising him.

"I think you need to settle down. You need the gentle touch of a good woman, Axe."

He rolled his eyes, not missing the laughter in her voice. "Your sarcasm is not appreciated."

"Give as good as you can get, brother dear."

Oh, she was enjoying this. Ever since she'd married Ben at Christmas, she'd taken every opportunity to needle him and Gunnar about settling down.

"Why don't you worry more about producing the heir Pops wants?"

"It's more fun worrying about you." Her voice turned serious. "And speaking of, you need to worry more about what you want out of your future instead of pleasing Pops. Blink and you'll be forty. Then what?"

She was right. Then what? Would he end up a crusty old codger like his uncle Warren? "You can take out an ad for me in _Rancher's Monthly_."

"Ha. Ha. Be careful what you wish for, Axe."

"Don't have time for that now. I think Forte's men just arrived. Gotta run."

Hope clicked off, and he stayed at the rail, listening to a vehicle skid to a stop at the top of the hill where they kept their trucks.

Great.

Just what they needed around the stables. Two crazy-assed scientists tearing up the freshly graded drive. Or worse, spooking the horses.

Best put on a smile and make them feel welcome. Zack Forte had been a valuable client over the years, and Axel didn't want to piss Forte off any more than his dad did. He was just going to have to make the best of a shitty situation. But he'd be damned if he hurried his ass up the hill to fall all over them with a welcome mat. No harm in letting them cool their heels.

He shot off a text to Gunnar letting him know their 'special' guests had arrived, adjusted his aviators, and trudged up the hill. Might as well get the meet and greet over with so he could get back to his day.

God, he'd need to hit the Trading Post tonight for nothing else than to release a head of steam and maybe find a pretty lady to help him take off the edge. He never suffered for female company, but it had been years since he'd been serious about anyone. Maybe Hope was right. Maybe it was time for him to settle down. Too bad there was no one in Prairie that held his attention for more than a moment.

As he rounded the corner at the top of the drive, he stopped short. Unless he was sorely mistaken, the khaki covered ass that pointed skyward as its owner reached for something inside, was no man's.

It was a lovely ass. Round and shapely. Just the kind of ass that always got him fired up in all the right places. And inevitably made him think of Haley Cooper - Coop. Because nobody had an ass as perfect as Coop's.

His body stirred at the thought of her, and he braced himself for the inevitable sharp twist of pain that always followed. He'd had ten years to get used to it, brace for it - the stirring followed by the hurt. But it still had a way of creeping up on him. He brushed it away like the annoying horsefly it was. _Her_ loss. _She_ was the one who'd left without a backward glance.

He kept telling himself that, but he'd never believed it. It was definitely his loss, too. But they'd made their choices, and for ten years he'd shoved the ache to the recesses of his consciousness. But every time he thought about anything more serious than a casual affair, she was there with her smoke black hair and dark sparkly eyes. Poking at him. Reminding him that love costs. And every time, he said 'no thanks', and moved on.

Scowling, he gave himself a shake. No more memory lane this morning. But he couldn't help the way his pulse kicked up a notch as he perused the pair of shapely legs stretched before him. Maybe having a scientist or two hanging around the ranch wouldn't be so bad after all. As the figure backed out of the car and turned to stand, his gut clenched, and adrenaline surged through him, buzzing in his ears and blanking his mind.

He went hot, then cold.

Holy. Shit.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

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About Tessa Layne

USA Today Bestselling Author Tessa Layne discovered the Harlequin stacks at her local library when she was twelve, and began a life-long love affair with all things filthy and romantic.

She's a voracious reader of romance (the smuttier the better), historical fiction, biographies, travel memoirs and cookbooks.

Tessa fell in love with her sexy, geeky, musician of a husband faster than the characters in the novels she writes, and divides her time between the Flint Hills and the Rocky Mountains, where she lives with said sexy spouse, two children and two very naughty cats.

All of her books contain sexy Alpha heroes- some badder than others- smart sassy heroines who don't pull their punches, and swoon-worthy happy endings.

If you'd like to learn more about Tessa please visit her website or follow her at Bookbub.
Afterword

We hope you enjoyed these sample chapters. Each book is part of a series so don't forget to visit our websites or your favorite online retailer to learn more.

Happy reading!

The Sampler Authors:

Shelley Munro

Shaniel Watson

Aria Glazki

Tracey Pedersen

Mary Hughes

Ellis O. Day

Kelli McCracken

Kristen Strassel

Tracy Ellen

Tessa Layne
Copyright Page

**Seduce My Heart**

Copyright © 2018 The Sampler Authors: Shelley Munro, Shaniel Watson, Aria Glazki, Tracey Pedersen, Mary Hughes, Ellis O. Day, Kelli McCracken, Kristen Strassel, Tracy Ellen, Tessa Layne

Cover Design by Premade E-book Cover Shop

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
