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Kabana Wild (Tropical Duet #1) by Josie Jax (@josie_jax) #SportsCarSex #menage #LGBT

Kabana WildBlurb:

Kabana Wild: Tropical Duet 1

Three people…three depraved plans…one inferno of scandalous pleasures.

Movie star Mitch Wulfrum is tired of deflecting the gay rumors buzzing around him. It’s time for drastic measures to suppress them once and for all–even if it means marriage in name only to the first trophy wife he can get his hands on. And beautiful sugar-cane princess Kiona ‘Alohi fits right into his plan.

Kiona can’t believe her luck when she’s presented with Mitch’s proposition. Her overbearing father is dangling her trust fund over her head as an enticement to dump her oh-so-sexy, but oh-so-unsuitable lover, Nakolo. A bogus marriage to Mitch will net her everything she wants–money and love, even if she can only have Kol on the sly.

What she doesn’t expect are the sexual sparks that fly between her and Mitch, or, when Kol catches them together, the heat that flares between the two men. One scandalously pleasurable encounter after another fans the flames of attraction, until they begin to dream that all three of them could have everything they ever wanted–and more than they ever expected.

An intricate, fragile web of lies and deceit are all that keep their wanton secrets from erupting into the public eye. Trouble is, one scheming photographer named Anjelee has already clicked the shutter that could ruin all their lives.

Buy Links:

Amazon US: http://bit.ly/KW_amz2

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/22K01el

Amazon AU:  http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01CF79ML8

Loose Id: http://www.loose-id.com/kabana-wild-tropical-duet-i.html

Kobo: http://www.loose-id.com/kabana-wild-tropical-duet-i.html

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Josie_Jax_Kabana_Wild?id=qgWoCwAAQBAJ

ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-kabanawild-1992567-149.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0

 

Josie JaxAuthor Bio, Website, & E-mail:

Josie Jax is the new pseudonym for a USA Today bestselling author of erotic romances in various genres. She lives in the Midwest and dreams of becoming a crazy cat lady by rehabbing an old barn into a fancy mansion for stray cats and stranded kittens.

Please visit Josie’s website at http://www.JosieJax.com or feel free to email her at josiejax1@gmail.com.

Author Social Links:

https://www.facebook.com/josie.jax

https://twitter.com/Josie_Jax

 

 

 

Blog Post including Excerpt:

Hot Sports-Car Sex in Books

By Josie Jax

What’s your hottest car-sex moment? I’m sure most of us have been there…in a cramped back seat with a lover, twisting like a pretzel, and making the most of every inch of car space.

As an author of erotic romances for over twelve years, I’ve written countless lovemaking scenes from vanilla missionary to…how shall I say…creative, sometimes acrobatic scenes.

During the editing process for authors, we go through first or second rounds, line editing, proofing, and so on. When my book was in the proofing stage, the proofer commented on Twitter about the first in my Tropical Duet series with Loose Id (Kabana Wild—book 1, now available; and Jamaica Wild—book 2, coming April 5). The proofer’s tweets:

“OMgawd hyena laff while proofing Kabana Wild

And:

“I will never look at a sports car in the same way again”

There is a lot more #hotsex that follows the below scene in the book (and in the book as a whole), but here’s a snippet of the sports-car lovemaking chapter to get your engine revving. 😉 Now get mine revving—share your hottest car-sex stories!

P.S. Jamaica Wild: Tropical Duet 2 by Josie Jax releases April 5, 2016.

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Excerpt:

 

He thirsted for her as always, but how to get his final fill of her in this cramped little sports car?

Nakolo, the sunroof… It was as if Pele whispered the solution in his ear.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

“S-stand up?”

“You heard me. Stand up. Remove your shoes, plant a foot on each seat, and stand up so your top half is through the sunroof.”

Her mouth fell open, and a sound that resembled a wheeze tore from her throat. He watched as she blinked, scanned the inside of the car, and looked up through the sunroof. Nakolo knew the precise moment understanding dawned on her.

For a full thirty seconds, she stared deep into his eyes, her own tearing up. She finally understood his desperation and intense desire to have her, to reclaim what was his after seeing her with another man.

Kiona twisted, assuring the car remained in park, and removed her shoes. She reached for the sunroof’s edge and pulled herself to a standing position. She was a tall woman, and it was a small car, so with her feet placed as wide as she could get them on each front seat, the roof came to waist level.

She set her elbows and forearms on the roof and leaned on them. “I’m ready,” she whispered down to him.

He scooted forward and drew up her dress, stuffing the front hem beneath the garment’s waistband. And there it was, her jewel—his jewel. Nakolo’s mouth watered, and his balls throbbed, engorging like a balloon ready to pop.

Hemolele! Mmm, my love, you are so gorgeous, so”—he swiped his tongue up her slit, eliciting a scream from her—“delicious.”

The flavor of cream and faint salt burst in his mouth. Holy islands, she was wetter than the sea. He drew back and studied her toned thighs and the top of the V they held dear. Except for a small patch of dark curls above her clit, she always kept her pussy shaved for him so he could feel her silky lips on his tongue or encircling his shaft. The labia were smooth and naturally tanned, her nub pink and swollen, emerging at the top of her cleft like the early bloom of a hibiscus. God, what perfection!

Nakolo couldn’t delay any longer. He wrapped his arms around her hips and reached behind her. Sinking one finger into her dripping-wet puka, he closed his mouth over her swollen bud.

She screamed again, this time far louder. He heard her hands slap the roof and rejoiced when her voluptuous body spasmed in his arms, against his face. He flicked his tongue over her clitoris while gazing upward through the sunroof. She was like a siren of the sea. He watched as the Pacific winds blew inland, tossing her hair in a wild mass, her breasts perky mounds, her face contorted in ecstasy.

Her pelvis did a swiveling dance, abrading over his face. She growled, reaching for that pinnacle that always came so easily for her. Nakolo pumped his finger faster, adding another, then a third. She spread wider, accommodating him, coating his fingers with her stickiness. With his tongue, he thoroughly explored every fold, crease, and little bulge, knowing the time would come very soon when he would have to yank her down into the car and plunge himself into her.

She was almost there, he could tell by the stiffening of her dance and the animal mewls escaping from deep in her throat. But somewhere in the sexual blur of his mind, Nakolo heard the hum of a car engine. He whipped his head around to see a sleek Mercedes pull up behind Kiona’s car.

“Goddamn it,” he swore when he saw none other than Mitch Wulfrum—the damn movie star—unfold himself from the driver’s seat and stride toward Kiona’s car.

Kiona’s windows were darkly tinted, so most likely Mitch couldn’t see Nakolo. If Mitch had spied Nakolo’s truck back at Jager’s house, he’d probably know Nakolo sat in her car. But if he hadn’t peered out the window at Nakolo’s boyish antics, Mitch wouldn’t know whose truck it was and might assume Kiona was alone and the truck abandoned.

Not knowing one way or the other added an edge of excitement to the unexpected situation. Nakolo’s loins simmered with reluctant fire. Did he want to be discovered or not?

As Mitch approached the driver’s side, Nakolo studied the strikingly handsome face, the tall, lean body…and the bulge in the jeans Mitch now wore. Nakolo swore under his breath. Why was it he found the sight of this man sauntering nearer so very arousing while Kol orally pleasured Kiona? Where had his anger gone? And why hadn’t he demanded an explanation from Kiona about her tryst with this man before Kol had dived right into satisfying his sexual urges?

“Mitch, what are you—what are you doing here?” Kol heard Kiona choke out.

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Challenge Accepted By Annabeth Leong (@annabethleong)

Challenge AcceptedBlurb:

After being shamed for her dominant desires too many times, Christine has resolved never to date a vanilla man again. She needs a man who knows he’s submissive, and she’s determined to hold out until she finds one.

Until she meets Sam, that is. Christine can’t bring herself to turn down the handsome parkour aficionado, so instead she tries to scare him off with an intensely kinky first date.

When Sam meets her extreme challenges head-on, Christine must decide if he can become the man to serve her every need—in the bedroom, and in her life.

Warnings: m/f anal play; BDSM content includes impact play, foot worship, dominance and submission, clamps placed in fairly extreme locations, and implied piercings.

 

Excerpt:

Even seeing only her back, Sam had no trouble recognizing Christine as he carried a sack of dirty clothes into the basement laundry room of his new apartment building. He’d liked her tall, thick frame the moment he’d caught her watching him, and he liked the way she moved. She folded clothes with sure, clean gestures. He’d been an athlete for enough of his life that he could immediately spot a woman in full control of her body and presence.

He hefted the laundry onto his shoulder and assumed a casual stance. He made his movements feel easy so they would look easy. “Christine.”

She turned. He liked that she didn’t jump. Maybe she knew he was coming.

He saw her reacting to him—gaze flicking down his body, body shifting to emphasize her hip. Her eyes were fierce, not welcoming. She looked as if she might be about to set him on fire. Apart from that, though, her nod was polite and distant.

Stretching and making a show of it, he set the laundry down beside a free machine. He didn’t know what to think of the contradictions he read in her body language. He was intrigued and wanted to get to know her. She, on the other hand, wasn’t being clear about what she wanted. He couldn’t tell if she was hoping he’d strike up a conversation or wishing he’d drop his clothes into the wash and get the hell out.

Sam had been raised in the type of family that communicated in code, and he didn’t like it. The only way he knew to make sense of the world was to speak his mind. “You up for company?”

She hesitated. “I think so,” she said finally.

“I’m glad.” His voice came out softer than he’d intended, his tone deferent.

There was something about Christine that made him want to address her that way. He stole glances as he started a washer. She dressed professionally, but not in an imposing way. Her body looked strong, but her shoulders were relaxed, her face at ease. She didn’t loom or intimidate, though he imagined she could if she wanted to. She had big, dark eyes and rich, brown skin. Her features weren’t delicate—he liked the bold lines of her nose and jaw—but neither were they harsh. The only hint of real severity he could see was in the way she wore her hair—straightened to within an inch of its life and sharply restrained.

“The weather’s gotten nice,” Sam said, reaching for an easy conversation starter. “Anything you’re looking forward to doing now?”

Christine shrugged. “Not wearing a heavy jacket.” Was that a touch of humor in the curve of her lips? He wasn’t sure.

“Definitely.” Sam kept his voice light. “You recognized parkour. Is that your sport?”

She laughed. “Afraid not.” Sam wondered if she was warming to him, but she was still so difficult to read. He hated the idea of lingering where he wasn’t wanted.

“Look,” he said. “I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to take you out sometime. Are you interested?” He had a nice Italian restaurant in mind if she said yes. If she said no, he’d ignore the flickers of interest he kept feeling from her.

She didn’t agree or refuse, though. Instead, she looked pained. “Why would you ask me that? We’ve got nothing in common.”

Sam stepped back, holding up his hands. “I asked because I wanted to know your answer,” he said, the words low and even. “If you’re not, it’s cool. I won’t bother you about it.” He’d be disappointed, of course, but he wasn’t the kind of jerk who would try to make a woman feel guilty about turning him down.

Christine reached toward him but dropped her arm just before she made contact. “You couldn’t handle me.”

Sam probably should have walked away at that point, but he’d noticed the way she’d almost touched him and the stubborn part of him couldn’t let the challenge pass. “What do you mean, I couldn’t handle you?”

Familiar anger rose to his chest. In high school, everyone had assumed he was a nerd because he was Chinese. He’d been told he wouldn’t be able to handle being on the football team, wouldn’t be able to handle American-style boxing—though everyone also seemed to expect him to be an expert at Wing Chun—and wouldn’t be able to handle going with the other guys on the team to play pranks on the local rivals.

Sam had responded to each of those challenges by proving his doubters wrong, doing everything better and harder than the people who had questioned him. He’d given up on obligatory popular sports to focus on parkour, but there was still a part of him that thrilled each time he pulled off a difficult move, exulting that, yet again, he’d shown them.

Christine’s skin darkened with a blush, but she lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m kinky, okay? I doubt you’re ready for that.”

Sam blinked. “Wow, okay. That seems like something we could sort out after we go on a date and find out if we like each other. No need to jump ahead.”

“No point.” She shook her head, the gesture firm and dismissive. “It’s a waste of time to get to know each other if we’re just going to wind up incompatible.”

“Really?” Sam bristled. It irritated him when women assumed a Chinese guy wouldn’t know anything about sex, and he hoped that wasn’t what was going on. “I have heard about that book, you know. The one all the women are reading.”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I like to be the one on the handle end of the flogger. You don’t want it, trust me.”

Sam had almost no idea what that entailed, but he pressed, annoyed that she’d presumed to tell him what he would and wouldn’t want. “How do you know? Talk to me about it first. Try me.”

“If you don’t already know about it, it’s just not going to work. I promise.”

Sam had never been aware of an interest in kink, but he couldn’t stand assumptions. “Tell me straight-out what you want to do,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll tell you whether or not I want to do it.”

Christine stared as if he’d suggested a really strange plan. It reminded Sam of so many movies he’d seen, times when characters acted like telling the truth was such an odd and original thing to come up with. “I don’t know…” she said.

He grabbed his now-empty laundry bag. The fabric snapped as he yanked it through the air. The fresh, warm scent pouring from the dryers seemed sour in that moment. “Or turn me down. Just don’t tell me what I can and can’t handle.”

Again, she moved as if she wanted to take hold of his wrist and stop him. Sam paused, trying to make it clear he would let her if that was what she wanted to do. They were still for a while, and then he gave up and walked to the door.

“Wait,” Christine said before he could leave.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe. Do you use IM? Can we talk later?”

He shrugged. “Sure.” This was probably another part of the brush-off. Maybe she thought it would be nicer if she offered to chat online. He didn’t particularly like that tactic, but he didn’t feel like criticizing it now. Without expecting to hear from her again, he gave her his username.

 

Buy Links:
Loose ID: http://www.loose-id.com/challenge-accepted.html
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1JtPabF
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1R3TTYq
All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/1R3TXHJ
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/challenge-accepted-1

 

releaseblitzbutton_challengeacceptedBio:

Annabeth Leong wears high heels and frequents the former haunts of H.P. Lovecraft. She is obsessed with baseball and marine life, and is an enthusiastic member of New England Feet. She is frequently confused about her sexuality, but enjoys searching for answers. Her work appears in more than 50 anthologies, including Best Bondage Erotica 2013, 2014, and 2015, Best Women’s Erotica 2015, and Best Erotic Romance 2014 and 2015. She is the author of a number of erotic novels, ranging from sweet to dark. Find Annabeth online at annabetherotica.com, and on Twitter @AnnabethLeong

 

Guest Blogger: Mae Hancock

tourbutton_enticinghartOccasionally all of us come across situations, which potentially threaten to end our lives, and this is a theme picked up in Enticing Hart, part of my Wyoming Lovers series. Sometimes these are just moments where we almost had a car accident or a piano almost falls on us! But there are more serious times that are prolonged owing to illness, or recovery from an injury. Hart, the hero in Enticing Hart, experiences just this situation and for some time he does what many of us do—reflect back on his life and think about the things he’s done wrong, or the things he will put right if his life is spared.

For a moment there Hart really considers his own mortality and what will happen to the people he loves if he’s not there to look after them. I quite liked exploring this part of his personality and thinking about what might happen to this person if we put him under extreme pressure. I think sometimes, dangerous situations can make us excel to get us to safety in whatever way we can; we realize that we can do things we never thought possible before.

The biggest thing about Hart’s imprisonment is that he has hope, and that’s what keeps the human spirit alive. It is ultimately his hope and love for Oak that gives him the strength to get to freedom.

Similarly, Steve’s mother Maggie faces the same danger every day with her continuing illness although the danger she is in isn’t sudden it’s been a long illness, and is set to get slowly worse over a number of years but she too is able to overcome a number of factors to continue her life. In many ways she reflects on the past and thinks of times where she was the career and not the one being cared for. Both characters draw on their own reflections of life, memories of the ones they care about to get them through very difficult circumstances and I really enjoyed working on this aspect of characterization.

 

Enticing HartBlurb

Hart Emile is tired of cruising for guys, living a soulless existence. He needs a change; so when an acquaintance gives him the number of the gay friendly Red Fox Ranch that’s hiring for staff, he heads south.

Oak Redman is eighteen years old and desperate to explore his awakening sexuality. The moment Hart lays eyes on the handsome young rancher he’s smitten. Not only is Oak hot, spirited and very persistent, he is also the ranch boss’s son and strictly off limits. Hart tries to fight his feelings and to respect his boss and the family who quickly become dear to him, but after Oak’s grandma suggests he gets with Oak he can’t deny himself the most exciting and enticing man he has ever met.

Hart’s not the only man to have noticed how sweet and charming Oak Redman is. A family friend, Steve, is also anxious to have the affections of the young rancher. Can Hart work out Steve’s dark secrets before it’s too late and keep his job, his lover and his life?

 

Published by Loose Id.

 

Excerpt

The distinctive chirps of crickets grew louder as Hart strolled away from the lakeside. Another meaningless encounter had come to an end. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do it again, and yet now he had. At least the guy had been attractive and around his own age. God, I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel. Has my life come to this? Cruising around parks and restrooms, no comfort, no intimacy, no love.

Climbing into his truck, Hart remembered the ranch name the guy had given him. He checked it out on the Internet, and then, when a much older guy approached, Hart realized he’d been reading the website too long. Oh, no, not another one. He turned the key in the ignition and started the engine. He reversed in the small gravel parking lot, then sped away.

On the borders of Wyoming’s Yellowstone Park, guys were using this beautiful location to cruise. Narrow paths and hidden patches between trees at the edge of the water proved an ideal location to get it on with someone. As the sunset dipped through water reeds, it could be an ideal romantic spot, but instead the brief rendezvous were impersonal and void of emotion.

After traveling around doing casual work for five years, he needed steady employment, a home, and a life. According to the guy at the lake, the people at the Red Fox Ranch were gay-friendly and hiring. He’d always been quite private about his sexuality, but what the hell? It’d be a change not to hide who I am all the time. Could even be a novelty. Might even be…nice?

* * * *

Hart pulled up to the front of the big, traditional ranch house, and the midday heat hit him as he stepped out of the air-conditioned truck. A line of tall fir trees stood behind the wooden building where a new job might be waiting, and a lake nestled at the foot of nearby mountains. He tapped at the door and glanced down at his clothing, tugging at the corner of his shirt to straighten it. The sound of the knocker echoed. A young woman, about seventeen, answered. God, am I in the right place? He pulled his Stetson off.

“Hello, you must be Hart? My dad told us to expect you.” The mellow warmth of her baby-blue eyes made him feel at ease. “Come in.” She opened the door wide, and he stepped inside.

The sound of his boots carried across the oak floor as he followed her to a study at the back of the house. The smell of freshly baked scones wafted on the warm air, making its way into his nostrils, and there were family photographs dotting the walls. He passed the living room where three big sofas cried out comfort in shades of cream, coffee, and chocolate. Everything was settled precisely in its place in the study, and the paperwork stacked in rows stood to attention; files were arranged flush on the shelves. This house was tidy, lived-in, loved—this was a home.

She gestured for him to take a seat in front of the desk. He perched uneasily for a moment and then shuffled back, his shoulders sinking down with light relief.

“My dad’ll be with you in a minute. Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, please, miss.”

“I’m Kristen.” Smiling, she offered her small hand, and he took it.

“Pleased to meet you, Kristen.” He nodded as she scooted around the corner of the door into the hallway.

She paused at the foot of the stairs, flicking her long fair hair over one shoulder. “Dad, Mr. Emile is here,” she screeched loudly, the opposite of the ladylike girl he’d shaken hands with moments earlier, the contrast making him snort.

“I’m coming. Kristen, are you fixin’ him a drink?” A man’s deep, rough tone responded from the second floor.

“Yes!” She faced Hart again and politely smiled. He was unsure what to expect from the owner of the voice.

Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs, but still no one appeared. Peering around the door a little more, he caught a glimpse of a man going backward and forward on the bottom step. What the fuck?

The man came into the study and smiled as he put his hand out. “You must be Hart.”

“Yes, sir,” Hart replied, accepting the firm handshake.

“I’m Bay. We spoke on the phone. Welcome to the Red Fox.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Hart replied.

Bay was about six-three, with dark hairy arms and chest. His inky-black hair and the long stubble on his rugged jaw gave him a masculine aura.

What’s with the performance on the steps?

“Thanks.” Hart sucked in a bewildered breath as Bay sank down behind the desk in front of him. Kristen appeared at his side with two coffees. Bay’s broad hand dwarfed the mug she gave him, and he pulled a coaster from the drawer, placing it in position on the desk. Then he rotated the leather square a little, moved it again, this time to the other side of the desk. There were more rotations until he positioned it precisely before placing the coffee down. Kristen’s cheeks pinked slightly as she glanced at her dad’s performance with the coaster, and she swiftly disappeared.

“Thanks for coming.” Bay rested his elbows on the arms of the office chair. He steepled his fingers, moving back into the creaking leather. “I’m looking for a permanent ranch hand, and you’d be on a three-month trial initially. I sure could use a carpenter and a mechanic around here. Your skills are pretty impressive.” Bay stopped midflow and stared toward the door. Hart followed his gaze to see an elderly lady in the doorway.

“Have you seen my slippers, Bay?”

“Grandma, no, I haven’t. Can you give us a minute?” A big crease came to the middle of the man’s brow.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there, young man.” She peered around the side of the door at Hart, and then she fiddled with a long gold necklace, which had a charm at the end. Snow-white hair curled around her cheeks. She had mischief in those twinkling blue eyes.

“Hart, this is my grandma, Mrs. Redman. Hart’s come to work with us—well, maybe—if he likes us.” Bay inclined his head, prompting Hart.

“Oh, yes. Howdy, ma’am.” What an unusual interview.

Her tiny hand met his, her fingers soft but her grip steely.

“Grandma, I haven’t seen your slippers. Has Skip taken them again? I told you not to leave them out, didn’t I?” Bay’s paternal tone checked her.

“Oh, yes, but I didn’t realize Skip was around.” She put wrinkled fingers to her lips.

“Skip’s our new shepherd-mix pup, Hart. I’ll take you to meet him shortly. Grandma, can you give us a minute?” Bay’s gaze beseeched her.

“Oh, yes, sorry. I’ll get back to my baking. Did you get Hart some coffee?”

“Kristen did.” Bay gestured to the mug on the edge of the desk next to Hart.

“Okay, I’ll say good day to you, then.” She wandered off down the corridor.

God, is this the right place? Even if it’s not, I’m not going to say anything. There’s something a bit…different. I like it here.

“Now, where was I?” Bay pulled the coffee from the coaster again, fiddling with it some more.

“The ranch—” Hart said expectantly.

Bay’s cell rang.

“Excuse me.” Bay eased it out of his jeans pocket. “Hello? He’s what?” His eyebrows knitted. “Yes, okay. I’m coming.” He buried the phone back in his pocket and stood.

“I’m sorry about this, but Skip’s got one of the chickens again. I’m going to have to go get him. Come with me if you want. Bring your coffee. There’s always some crisis happening here. There isn’t much normal about this ranch, I’m afraid.”

Hart followed Bay across the wooden floors of the house, their steps echoing. At the chicken coop, Kristen held a struggling black-and-brown puppy by his collar.

“What in the hell was he doing in there?” A muscle twitched in Bay’s neck as he opened the coop.

“I don’t know, but he’s mauled another one of the hens.” Kristen barely hid her concern as a hen lay on its side with a wing flapping a little. Feathers were scattered across the ground.

“For God’s sake, you’re supposed to be watching him. We can’t have him running wild all over the ranch.” Pushing the gate shut from inside, he glanced at Hart. “If it’s not foxes or coyotes or wolves…it’s this damned untrained puppy.”

“Can I help?” Hart asked.

“Go with Kristen. I’ll be back in a minute when I’ve sorted this mess out.”

Hart strolled back to the porch, where Kristen took his coffee mug. She passed him the wriggling puppy, which licked his face uncontrollably.

“Wait here. I’ll get the leash.” She disappeared into the house and returned to hook the clip onto the dog’s collar. He jumped from Hart’s arms.

“I’ll bring you a cup of fresh coffee. Yours’ll be cold by now. I’m sorry about this. I’d like to say it’s not usually like this, but it kind of is.”

He chuckled, and she slipped through the door again, taking Skip with her. Hart leaned on the porch railing and watched Bay leave the chicken run, holding the now dead bird and hooking the gate closed behind him. He rounded the corner of a shed and moved out of sight.

Kristen appeared at Hart’s side, still holding Skip on the leash, and handed him a steaming mug. “Please take a seat.” She settled into one of the chairs.

“Thanks.” He perched uneasily on the wooden chair.

“We have seven ranch hands living here in the bunkhouse. Are you going to stay there too?” she asked.

“If you’ve got the room.” He shuffled back, trying to relax, and tossed his Stetson in his hands idly.

“I think so. My dad’ll know.”

The house phone rang; Skip followed her inside as she went to answer it. While Hart waited, a wind chime tinkled in the breeze. From down near the barns, a cowboy headed toward the porch, his tall figure backlit by the sun. Broad shoulders tapered to a small waist. The man couldn’t be older than nineteen. The hairs on Hart’s arms stood on end. The young cowboy mounted the steps and glanced at Hart, lifting his lush, delicate features into a sweet smile.

It was enough to make Hart melt.

“Hi. I’m Oak, like the tree.” His voice held a vibrant, acquiescent note, and he reached out, taking Hart’s hand. A good, firm handshake corresponded with big, honest baby-blue eyes. High cheekbones filled with a flush of pink flattered his brown skin. Lust roared through Hart as a faint scent of cinnamon made its way to his senses. Those full, deep-pink lips needed kissing. A well-crafted bicep showed off a tribal tattoo peeping from under the sleeve of Oak’s T-shirt. The muscle beneath twitched intermittently.

Hart shifted in the dry air on the porch, and a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, making him shudder. “I’m Hart,” he replied, unable to get another word out.

Kristen opened the porch door and smirked at Oak. Immediate embarrassment rushed heat to Hart’s cheeks. Had she noticed his jaw dropping in awe of the rancher’s son?

“Oh, right, my dad told me you were coming,” Oak said, ignoring Kristen.

Dad? Oh, no. Could Oak be the boss’s son?

“Dad, there’s a call for you!” she shouted as Bay approached the porch.

“Kristen, honey, can you deal with it? I’m showing Hart around.” Bay stopped and rested his foot on the bottom step. “I’m sorry about the interruptions, Hart. I see you’ve met my boy, Oak.”

“Yes.” Of course, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen would be the boss’s son.

“Come tour the ranch now.” Bay gestured for Hart to follow. “So, how many years’ experience did you say you have?”

Pushing up from the wicker chair on the porch and barely able to distract himself from lean, athletic Oak, Hart followed Bay. “Nice to meet you, Oak,” he called over his shoulder, hoping to catch another of Oak’s sweet smiles. He probably has a great ass too.

He took an extra step to catch up. “I worked on ranches my whole life, sir.”

His new boss had arrived in the nick of time, because he sure as hell didn’t know what to say to Oak. Especially as Hart needed to keep his mind on the job, and not on Oak. Hart suspected Bay wouldn’t be best pleased to know Hart had one eye on his son. He should take the job seriously anyway. Crazy place—but somehow he liked it.
Copyright © Mae Hancock

 

 

Buy Links

All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-enticinghart-1724320-340.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0

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Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1BTmpCL

 

Author Bio

I’ve always written stories and enjoy reading all types of literature from thrillers to romance. I’m interested in people who experience social marginalization and these are often themes that appear in my stories. I’ve written erotic literature for pleasure for a long time, but it’s only recently I’ve put romance and erotica together and found I enjoy writing about the exciting journey we all go on when falling in love. My interests include cultural history, particularly in the Greek and Roman worlds.

Author site: http://www.maehancock.com

 

Why We Love Vampires by Barbara Elsborg (@BarbaraElsborg)

thingsthatgohump300x200Vampires have always repulsed and fascinated, these days they more fascinate than repulse. The fact that vampires are human-like creatures enables us identify with them to a certain extent, letting us believe we can understand the way they think and behave, or at least explain it in human terms. They’re pure predators. They deal in death. They consume the substance that keeps us alive. They have superpowers – super speed, super hearing, super sexual recovery (!) and can read minds. They’re stronger than us, more powerful than us and therefore can exert control over us. They’re dead and yet still with us, which might strengthen belief that death is not the end.

The vampire is probably the most popular fictional monster ever created. How ironic that these super-strong, human-like creatures who are able to seduce with a few words and might suck their victims dry can be repelled by the smallest cross and a whiff of garlic, and unless invited in cannot enter a private dwelling. In the early days, that is. The first vampires in fiction were true monsters and really did terrify readers. Dracula is a story of sexual seduction and rape. It must have been comforting to know that with a simple stake through a vampire heart — they die, though of course, it’s never quite that easy. Even now, vampires in horror movies continue to terrify — Let the Right One In and Thirty Days of Night had me cowering behind the couch.

So are we obsessed with blood, sex, death, fangs? More likely we are fascinated by the idea of a life that can go on forever but without our bodies aging, a life unencumbered by problems of ill-health or any sort of weakness. Yet how could we cope with the loneliness when those around us die and we live on? Vampires give us an insight into what life would be like if we could indeed live forever. Anne Rice is the master at exploring the tortured vampire psyche. LeStat remains my favorite vampire of all time. While Christine Feehan’s vampires, though they might go through hell to reach their mate, are assured of a happy future. There’s room for all sorts of vampires and there always will be.

Modern vampires are more sophisticated and have evolved to suit our needs, and that, I believe, is the key to our continued fascination. In literature, we’ve mostly turned them into gorgeous tortured guys on the fringes of society, who never age and are brilliant in bed, especially if they’re feeding at the same time. We dress them immaculately in black, make them enigmatic, and in need of rescue from their torment by the love of a worthy woman. Once they find their mate, and they’re prepared to spend centuries looking – how romantic is that? – they are the ultimate romantics, devoting themselves to their partner’s happiness. We’ve created an anti-hero that can go on forever- literally.

There are no longer any ‘rules’ about what a vamp can and can’t do. They might even sparkle! Garlic is no longer a problem, they laugh at crosses, some can go out in daylight, they don’t have to sleep in coffins, they don’t have to drink human blood, they’re not all beautiful and yet they’re still compelling.

But they’re the ultimate bad boys and we all know how much we love those.

 

Lightning In A BottleLightning in a Bottle

Lightning is the third in my Trueblood series about a vampire family but all the books are standalone. The link being that a sibling appears in each book, so you don’t have to read one before another – though the last does sum everything up at the end. The vampire in Lightning is Erin – but she has a slight problem. She doesn’t remember that she’s a vampire.

Blurb

Felix feels like he’s been hit by lightning. After successfully avoiding responsibility for most of his life, it’s thrust upon him when his parents die. As the thirteenth Earl of Sherbourne, he inherits Pevenhurst Castle, the home that’s been in his family for four hundred years – and when he can’t afford to repair it, he’s forced to sell.

Lightning isn’t supposed to strike twice, but when the electrifying Erin Markov whirls into Felix’s life she gives him more to worry about. Erin’s exciting and unpredictable, in and out of bed, if only he could get her to stop dancing in thunderstorms, rollerblading in the middle of the night and leaping around on unsafe roofs. Plus she has this annoying habit of biting his neck.

Erin wishes she could remember who she is. The couple who claim to be her parents leave her in a dilapidated stately home with supplies of a revolting energy drink and instructions not to go out in the sun. Then she discovers sculptor Felix living next door and life becomes far more tasty.

Until the day Erin finally remembers who she is and wishes she hadn’t.

Buy Links

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Excerpt

Felix’s hollow fibre duvet had never seen so much action. It bucked and heaved as he writhed beneath it. The faster he moved the better. The harder he thrust the better. Felix groaned and flung out his arms and legs like a frenzied starfish before he curled up into as small a ball as possible. The chill crept back. Nowhere near energetic enough. He needed to keep moving. Felix rubbed his chest — and, oh shit, by default his cock — against the bottom sheet. Before he grew overexcited, he flipped onto his back and kicked his legs in a bicycling action. He was warmer now but exhausted. Ah, and horny.

The flash of heat resulting from his acrobatics was so fleeting Felix might as well have saved his energy. The bedroom window was closed, the thick curtains drawn, but the arctic wind blasting the coach house had managed to find a way through every crack to torment him. Felix could see bursts of transient ghosts each time he exhaled. With no warm body to cuddle up to and no spare cash to install central heating, he’d end up freezing to death before the will was sorted and he received his share of the money.

Too cold to stay in bed, yet Felix had no desire to get up. Doing so would mean acknowledging Black Friday had started. He pulled the duvet tighter around his shoulders and rolled over, wrapping himself in a blue cocoon. Maybe he wouldn’t get up. Maybe he’d lounge in bed all day, and while he slowly turned into an ice pop he’d pretend he had plenty of money, a faithful girlfriend, and a flashy sports car.

Felix gave brief consideration to what he’d like most and had to admit it was the car. How sad was that? Yeah, well, while he was frozen in de-Nile, he’d also need to pretend he hadn’t signed away his ancestral home, the place that had been in his family for almost four hundred years.

He threw the duvet over his face and cringed. For the first time in his life, he was glad his parents were dead. Lucky for him he didn’t believe in an afterlife, so there was no chance of them looking down in disappointment from heaven. Still, he did believe in hedging his bets, and just because he didn’t believe, didn’t mean his parents weren’t reclining on clouds, clutching gin and tonics and scowling down at him.

“Sorry,” Felix turned to mutter into his pillow. “Sorry I let you down. Again.”

Though this time, the mess he was in wasn’t entirely his fault. The fact that Felix had remained in blissful ignorance of how far things had deteriorated in his absence brought guilt he had to live with, but if his father were alive, Felix would have strangled him. Fucking inconsiderate to get himself killed before Felix had a chance to do the deed.

 

Bio

Barbara Elsborg lives in West Yorkshire in the north of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Vulcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.

After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop. Her books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, and she hopes they are as much fun to read as they are to write.

Links

http://www.barbaraelsborg.com

https://www.facebook.com/barbara.elsborg

https://twitter.com/BarbaraElsborg

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2856948.Barbara_Elsborg

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