"As much as I have enjoyed gazing upon your lovely body today, you, my princess, are starting to get sunburned." He handed her a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. "Here you go. It shouldn’t be too hot to wear while we are out on the water."
Celina caught the clothes to her chest and stood up. "But—"
"What?" Drake moved back, out of reach.
Celina stepped forward. "That look on your face. You do want to kiss me, yes?" she asked.
Drake shuffled backwards, threw his head back and laughed.
"Celina, I would love to kiss you, but if I did we wouldn’t stop there. It wouldn’t be fair to you." Or me.
Celina scurried over to stand by Drake again. "It would be fair, Drake. I want the kiss." She stood on her toes and lowered her voice. "I know what to do."
"You do?" His breath came out on a shaky laugh, and he wanted to kick himself for his lack of control.
"I know how to do lots of things." She held on to his arms. "I know over two hundred positions to make you climax stronger than usual. I can do it for you." She leaned into him.
A groan came through Drake’s mouth and vibrated on Celina’s lips. He urged her to open her mouth and take everything he offered her in one kiss. Without thinking, he lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around his thigh. He wanted more of her body.
The little minx moved her body in a rhythm he recognized. He moaned and decided if he didn’t stop now, he’d hate himself later.
Drake straightened up and set Celina back on her feet. He ran his hands through his hair.
"Can we do that again?" She reached her arms out for him.
"God, no. No!" Drake turned and leaned heavily on the wooden railing.
Buy LinkEven on her motorcycle, Margarine Butter, can’t outrun the bad luck that continues to follow her around. Fired from her second job in less than a week all because of some man, she’s got two options. Hit the rode on her Motorcycle and find another job, or call it quits and go back to The Chromes and Wheels Gang. At the rate she’s going, she’ll never achieve her dream of buying a home where she can plant some roots.
Business Tycoon, Remy Montgomery, can’t believe the waitress refused his offer and rode off on a Harley Davidson without a second thought. Determined to buy enough time to get to know the babe on the bike, he tracks her down and offers her a job she can’t refuse.
Is Margarine’s luck changing or is she making a horrible mistake?
EXCERPT:
"Excuse me, Ms.?"
She screamed and fumbled for her purse strap. Strap in hand, she swung her arm in a wide circle and aimed at the voice in the shadows. Oh, God. Stand back or I’ll smack you with my leather-studded bag.
"Whoa, lady, it's me…Remy."
A dark outline of a very big person stood in the shadows between two parked cars. She continued to swing her purse. She didn't know anyone named Remy, and in the dark, she aimed to disable anyone who came close enough to hurt her.
"I'm the man who got you fired." The man stepped closer. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Palms in the air, he ambled out of the shadows and into the light. Her arm fell to her side. The buckle of her purse slammed into her knee. That’s going to leave a bruise.
"What are you doing? You scared me half to death." She bent over and rubbed her knee without taking her gaze off him.
"I wanted to apologize and offer to find you another job." Remy removed his billfold from inside his suit coat and fingered the bills.
She stood back up, her pained knee forgotten, and wrinkled her nose. No way! Where the hell did he get that idea? Do I resemble a whore to you?
He held out his hand. A fist full of paper money dangled between the man and Margie. She snorted and stepped around him, disappointed the best-looking man she'd ever met joined the ranks of just another jerk on the road of life.
Margie marched over to the light post and extracted a set from her purse. She unlocked the saddlebag of her motorbike, removed her helmet, and threw her purse in the side compartment.
Bending at the waist, she gathered her hair in a messy bun atop her head and slipped on her helmet. Remy, or whatever he called himself, didn't have a clue. She'd rather purchase an oversized-gas-guzzling-ozone-killing machine than sell her body to the highest bidder.
Without a second glance back to check if he still stood in the parking lot, she hiked her skirt up to her thighs and straddled the leather seat. Behind the face shield, a smile came to her lips at the touch of the smooth, familiar shape between her legs. She revved the motorcycle to life and left the man and his ego in the dust.
***
The handful of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills slipped out of Remy's hand onto the asphalt of the parking lot. His mouth hung open, and he blinked.
"I'll be damned."
The waitress rode a Harley Davidson.
STORY BLURB: Sarah always dreamed of joining a motorcycle gang and hitting the open roads. First to escape a troubled childhood full of poverty and alcoholism, and later, the desire to live a gypsy lifestyle and feel the wind in her hair. Her life all changed the morning a biker stopped in the middle of the road and asked if she wanted a ride.
Reefer had two rules. Don’t mess around with women who didn’t grow up riding the road and his biker family always came first. Nothing prepared him for the woman who hopped onto the back of his Harley with the ease of a born rider, or how she peeled back the layers of his sealed heart.
Two people running from a world full of hurt. Will they escape to find happiness or will they have to revisit the past?
EXCERPT
He shook his head in denial. "Sarah—"
"No, don’t say it." She placed her finger on his lips. "Remember, I told you I expect nothing from you. These are my thoughts, the dreams I am made from." She tapped her chest with the palm of her hand. "I know this ends tonight, but I want this moment to last me a lifetime."
"I don’t get involved with someone not from the biker lifestyle, at least not seriously. I’m sorry." Now that he’d spoken the words, a sense of guilt hit him.
"I figured. I actually know quite a lot about bikers." She grinned. "Plus, if you shirked your beliefs, I’d think less of you." She stole a quick kiss. "You, Reefer, are the real deal."
"You don’t deserve someone that can’t give you everything." He let his chin fall to his chest. "You have no idea how much I want you. I’d love to take everything you hand me, but I can’t."
"I know. I have no other way to convince you I speak the truth. You won’t hurt me." She lifted his head. "Nothing you do will ever hurt me."
He searched her eyes. She humbled him.
Ever gentle, he pulled her to him and claimed her mouth. He wanted to kiss her slow, long, and remember every detail. The way her bottom lip was fuller than the upper. Perfect to nibble on.
Her tongue came out to taste him. He slowed, and she controlled the moves. The tip of her soft, velvet, tongue teased and played with his in a classic game…tag, you’re it.
Consumed with how her mouth tantalized him, he forgot all about his hands. He found them under her arms on the side of her breasts. His thumbs strummed the sensitive nipples. Senses in overload, he pressured her for more, and she gave him one hundred percent.
He lifted her up and set her down against him, belly to belly, his arms pressing her tight against him. He broke away from her mouth and, with his hand on the back of her head, tucked her into his arms and held her. Someone needed to stop the insanity, but he wasn’t willing to let her go quite yet.
His hand stroked her back. Her heart hammered against his chest, matching his beat for beat. Her body much smaller than his, she possessed strength far greater. Her trust in him was touchable, and for the first time in his life he damned the inability to open up.
"I wish…" He sighed.
"Don’t spend your life regretting what you can’t do." She lifted her head, smiled at him through the liquid pooling on her bottom eyelids. "Let’s not say a word. When you’re ready, you can take me back to my car, kiss me, and without uttering a word, ride away on the wind."
He swallowed.
"No regrets, but a memory to last a lifetime." She brushed the corner of her eye with a finger.
He ran both hands over his face, cleared his throat. "Let’s go for that ride."
Sarah untangled her legs from around him and swung them over the side of the bike, but Reefer pulled her against his front before she hopped off. She straddled the bike with her back pressed against him. "I believe you wanted to drive."
"Seriously? But, my feet don’t touch the ground." She stretched her legs out.
"Put them on top of my feet; mind your legs don’t hug the engine. It gets pretty hot." He waited for her to get her feet comfortable. "You’ll feel my left foot move on the ride, so pay attention."
She nodded.
"On the left handlebar is the clutch. I’ll help you squeeze when it’s time and my foot will go down. You’ll have to steer, and remember to lean into the curves." He nuzzled her neck. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
He guessed she smiled by the excitement in her voice.
"Ok, push that button." He pointed.
The engine roared to life.
"Good girl," he yelled over the noise. "You turn the right handle grip towards you to make the bike go. You’ll need to baby it to keep control of the motorcycle."
He covered her hand with his, and with the bike in neutral let her rev the throttle. Her ass wiggled between his legs.
With the clutch in, he kicked into first gear and placed his mouth in the groove of her neck beneath her ear.
"Alright kitten, let’s make this baby purr."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Blurb
Veterinarian, Samantha James, moved to a new town to escape the crooked cops who framed her younger brother and sent him to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. With the goal of setting up practice and making a home for her brother when he gets released, she didn’t plan on falling for the local forest ranger.
Undercover narcotics officer, Bobby Thorn, was only in Skamania posing as a forest ranger to apprehend the ex-officer who killed his partner. He didn’t have time for romance, but the fiery vet left him speechless and stole his heart. How is he going to keep his identity secret, catch a killer, and keep the woman he loves safe?
Excerpt
Samantha balanced precariously between two stacks of boxes with the cart held above her head. With all the containers scattered about it proved impossible to move the oversized cart towards the back of the room without a degree in acrobatics. Her arms shook, and she yelped. The cart flew out of her hands, and she lost her balance.
"Umph." Samantha landed with a thud, her butt squashed in one of the bigger boxes on the floor. She grunted and strained to lift her body out, but the laws of gravity worked against her. Damn that extra donut.
Her knees touched her chin, and her feet dangled over the rim of the box. A giggle bubbled out. She resembled one of the nerds in high school on the first day of school that always got dumped into the garbage can by the football star with only the person’s arms and legs dangling from the rim of the trash.
"Hey, anyone here?"
Samantha’s head popped up. Someone came into the clinic. A very masculine someone from the sound of it. Oh, no!
What do I do now? She frantically rocked back and forth with the determination of a cow giving birth to an oversized calf. Come on, come on!
"Damnit."
She bent her head forward and banged herself in the eyebrow with her knee. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed the pain. Can this be any more embarrassing?
"Hey?"
"I’m-uh-back-here." She rubbed her forehead and hoped that if there was any swelling, her hair might hide it.
Heavy-booted footsteps against the tile flooring grew louder the closer the man came to discovering Samantha’s embarrassing situation. Heat traveled up her neck and settled on her cheeks—a phenomenon she believed cursed her for being born a redhead.
"Dr. James?"
The man entered the right room, but with the boxes stacked around, Samantha remained hidden. "I’m back here behind the boxes." Tell him the truth, idiot. You’re ass is stuck in a box, because you ate two donuts!
A very handsome tall man stepped over and around the obstacle course. He planted his feet in front of Samantha and shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
"You look like you find women stuck in boxes everyday." Samantha wrinkled up her nose.
"Can’t say that I do." The man circled her, his head bent at an odd angle to view the box.
"Are you looking for a handle, because I can tell you there isn’t one." Samantha snorted. Just get me out of the damn box!
"Not a handle. I thought maybe there might be a windup mechanism, and if I turned it, you’d pop out of the box." The man grinned. "You’re name wouldn’t happen to be Jill?"
"Jill?" Samantha shook her head. Why was she having such a hard time following the conversation?
"You know, Jill in the box…Jack in the box." The man chuckled.
Samantha rolled her eyes. "Ok, fun and games over. Instead of gawking, do you think you might lend me your hand and help me out of this stupid box?" Samantha raised her arm. She’d lose her temper if he didn’t stop the sideshow act.
Her self-respect demanded that she take control of the situation. She wished to keep what little credibility she had in this new town. With her kind of luck, she didn’t want her new reputation to become the wacky-doctor-who-murdered-the-first-person-who-wanted-to-make-an-appointment.
She grasped his offered hand, and in the next moment, she stood belly to groin against a giant of a man. Samantha tilted her chin. He must reach six foot four inches tall, and his shoulders stretched for miles.
The man lifted the corner of his mouth, and the skin crinkled around his hazel eyes. She lowered her gaze to his hand, afraid if she didn’t stop staring she’d emit a schoolgirl giggle.
The new view didn’t bring her the distraction she wanted. No, the size of his hands matched the rest of him, and she found herself utterly fascinated by the fact her fingers disappeared entirely within the tough interior of his. She gave her head a little shake. He’s just a man, and she wasn’t raised in a convent. There was no reason for her to act this way.
Samantha’s head reached chest level on the man, and she read Skamania County Forest Ranger on the front of his buttoned-up shirt. The only thing lacking is his ability to hold a decent conversation, and heck, that’s an easy fix.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Resurrecting Charlie's Girl
Cover coming Soon
Available March 26th at Breathless Press
Blurb
On the run and in hiding, Charlise wasn't surprised that her ex-husband found her again at the hunting lodge. The sick bastard would stop at nothing to have her back, and that included murder. Abused and a former shell of herself, she wants to find the woman she was before ever meeting the elusive Jared Blatwell. This time her ex catches up with her and it appears that her time has run out.
Coming off a three-day stakeout, Tom Brannet looked forward to the hunting trip with the other men from G.P. Investigations. Rest, relaxation, and a little hunting is exactly what he needed.
Instead, he's thrown back into his job protecting the beautiful woman behind the counter at The Ridge. No longer the hunter, he does everything in his power to keep Charlise from being the prey. Unable to stop Jared Blatwell from finding his ex-wife, Tom and his partners set up a trap that goes terribly wrong.
Excerpt
"Charlise?" Tom’s loud whisper came from the dining room.
He crawled into the kitchen from the dining room and moved to lean against the cabinets next to her. "I’m gonna go check this out."
Charlise grabbed his arm. "You can’t. He’s just trying to draw you out to get to me. He’ll kill you."
"He can try. No one’s getting past me." He tilted his head. "When are you going to trust me?"
He removed the nine-millimeter pistol from his underarm holster and slipped the clip in. Faster than lightning, she reached out and caught his arm in a death grip.
"Don’t do it."
"Stay here, below the window. I’ll be back." Tom cocked an eyebrow at her in challenge. Charlise’s chin went up. He didn’t know how stubborn she could be. She wasn’t going to let him go outside and get himself killed.
"You’re a fool if you think he won’t kill you." She set her mouth. She refused to back down.
"Don’t worry, Charlise." He leaned closer and took her lips in a hard kiss.
Surprised, Charlise loosened her strangle hold on his arm as warm jolts of pleasure shot through her body.
The kiss was hard and fast, and by the time she gained her equilibrium, he’d already scrambled across the floor and out of sight. She touched her lips with her fingertips. Damn him.
What kind of person let a kiss distract them from the situation at hand? The lack of sleep, plus the stress of having Jared on her tail was hampering her good judgment.
She wanted her life back. One that didn’t involve a man who controlled her. What’s wrong with me? First Jared and now Tom. I’m pathetic.
The simple fact she sat on the floor because Tom ordered her to stay there burned a hole in her stomach. The way he used his masculinity to leave her breathless and forgetful irritated her. The waves of pleasure he produced low in her belly pissed her off.
The slamming door interrupted Charlise’s thoughts. She crouched on the balls of her feet and tried to hear past the roaring in her ears for footfalls.
I need a weapon.
She reached up and opened the silverware drawer. Peering over the edge of the drawer, her fingers made quick work at picking out the biggest weapon in the drawer. A steak knife would do, but she’d have given anything for a machine gun.
Charlise slid the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. She knew a knife wouldn’t hold Jared back, but if he made a grab for her, it might do enough damage to gain her freedom.
The squeak of shoes on linoleum echoed across the hardwood floor toward her. She held her breath and spread her arms wide. She’d knock him down and try to get past him first. If that didn’t work, she’d stab him.
Ready.
Set.
Go!
Launching from the tips of her toes, Charlise sprang up, put her head down, and threw her whole body at the shadowed figure that dared to enter the kitchen. Her shoulder slammed into the person. She ricocheted off the human steel wall, and found herself falling backwards.
Pain radiated down her back, and paralyzed her. A pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulders and yanked her upright.
"What the hell are you doing?" Tom gave her a shake that rattled her teeth.
The bravery whooshed out of her at the realization Tom held her imprisoned against him, and not her ex-husband.
"Didn’t I tell you to stay on the floor?" He pushed her back to look at her face, but didn’t relax his hold. "You know how serious this situation is. Jesus, woman, if anything happened to you—" Tom brought her back within the circle of his arms and smashed her against his chest. His hands roamed over her back.
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