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Shiloh Walker

Guilty Needs…available now!

best friend romanceI know you love him…

Not the words you want to hear from your best friend. Especially when the him she is talking about is the man she’s married to. But when Alyssa Hutchins said those words, Bree realized her best friend knew the one secret she’d hoped to keep hidden for always.

Just before she died, Alyssa asked Bree to promise her something, but it’s a promise that Bree isn’t sure she can keep.

Colby Hutchins left town the day he buried his wife, but he couldn’t outrun the pain of losing her…nor could he outrun the guilt. The very night he buried his wife, he’d almost done the unthinkable. All Bree had done was offer comfort, but he had wanted more. Stillwants more.

Chased by guilty needs and taunted by dreams where Bree offers so much more than comfort, he returns home to close the book on the life that ended with his wife’s death. But he comes face to face with Bree and it sets everything inside him to burning all over him.

These two battered souls long to be together, but something unspoken lingers between them…

excerpt

He never realized he’d fallen asleep until the phone jerked him awake. He jumped, for a moment not recognizing where he was and his mind automatically went to Alyssa—he needed to check on her…but then he remembered.

In the distance, he could hear Bree’s low, quiet murmur and he blocked the sound of it out, tried to still the storm churning inside him. He needed to get out of here. The rain was still coming down, although from the sound of it, the downpour had lessened a little. He came up out of the chair, wadding up the blanket Bree must have draped over him. He threw it on the footstool and headed out of the den, hoping he could grab his jacket and slip outside.

Remembering that his car was still at the funeral home, he paused, but then just shook his head. He didn’t give a damn if he had to walk. He didn’t really have a destination in mind anyway—just not home. That was the only thing that mattered. He didn’t know if that house could ever be home again. He’d built it for Alyssa.

It hit him then, just as he went to grab his coat from the hook hanging by Bree’s side door. It hit him like a ton of bricks dropping down to crush him. Slamming a hand against the wall, he tried to keep from buckling under the weight. What hit him weren’t tears—such a simple term couldn’t explain the pain that boiled up from deep inside and threatened to kill him as it clawed its way out of him.

He never heard Bree come in, just knew that suddenly she was there, slipping an arm around his waist, then the other, holding him as he finally let himself acknowledge reality.

Alyssa was gone.

There would be no one last chance to hope and pray for a miracle, no more nights where he could lie awake and watch her while she slept. Gone.

* * * * *

Her back was on fire and her left leg was so numb, she was pretty sure it would take an hour just to be able to get any feeling back in it—if she was ever able to move. But she didn’t care, didn’t say anything. They were half-laying, half-kneeling, with his head in her lap and the fingers of one hand twined with hers, holding on as though he’d never let go.

Her own tears were blinding her, but she blinked them back.

She wasn’t sure when the silence between them started to change. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, or an easy one, but the grief between them kept it from being awkward. But it changed—more on her part than his—or at least she thought it had. But then she realized that his free hand rested on her thigh and his thumb was stroking back and forth. Through her skirt, she could feel his warmth and every slow stroke was enough to make her heart skip a beat. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, she suspected—any more than she was aware that she was lazily stroking a hand through his silky hair.

The tension spiked between them and slowly, Colby lifted his head. His pupils were dilated with just a thin sliver of amber showing. The hand on her thigh stilled—tightened. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She hated how easily her body reacted, hated that she wanted more than anything to close the distance between them and press her lips to his. Hated it. Just as she hated knowing that she was weak enough to give him anything he might need, even if it was just some sort of comfort sex.

She hoped that wouldn’t happen, yet somewhere inside, part of her hoped it would. Colby might need comfort, but she needed him. She’d always needed him and she’d never had the chance.

His lashes drooped low, shielding his gaze. A harsh sigh shuddered out of him and then he shoved to his feet. Without looking at her, he walked out of the kitchen, pausing only long enough to grab a key ring from the small bowl by her phone. She heard the engine of her bike revving out in the driveway. As he pulled away, she thunked her head back against the cabinet at her back and closed her eyes.

“Nice work, Bree.”

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One of the Guys… Available now!

Reissuing an old backlist title!
Out today.
friends to loversComplete and utter humiliation—that was what Jaynie felt as she stood in the doorway watching her fiancé playing out his ménage fantasies with his best friend and the cute neighbor from across the street. Bad enough that the cute and sexy neighbor is the woman her fiancé clearly wants her to be, but now she finds the man she loves in bed with the woman. To add fuel to the flame, he later tells her that she couldn’t be a real woman if she tried.

Humiliated and hurt, she’s hiding out at her best friend’s house and ends up coming across her friend’s older brother Brian. Brian…hot, sexy…also her partner from work. The last thing she needs is another complication, but she can’t think about that right now.

The heat in his eyes, the desire she can see on his face—that is something she does need and she offers him one night, no strings.

But one night of no strings turned into something neither of them could have counted on. Brian’s take-charge attitude in the bedroom and his oh, sexy, smile are getting to her.

Friends all their lives, they’ve played together, now they work together. Faced with the most important question of all, Jaynie has to figure out…can they  work together?

~*~

She closed her eyes and when she did, she saw Brian’s intense turquoise stare, hot and focused. If she started to panic or think, all she needed was that memory and she knew she’d feel steady enough to go through with this.

He wasn’t in his room. She turned and stared back down the staircase, uncertain of where he might be. He hadn’t gone out. She would have heard his truck if he’d left the house.

She headed back downstairs, made her way into the kitchen and from there she heard the muffled sounds of his breathing, strained and harsh. She heard metal clank as she opened the basement door. It was dim down there. Her feet were soundless on the carpeted steps as she descended.

Jaynie’s breath hitched a little as she stared at Brian. He was lying on the weight bench, his gaze on the ceiling, his features blank as he lifted the heavy bar up and slowly lowered it back down.

He didn’t make any of the annoying grunts and groans that Dean liked to make when he worked out. The only sounds she heard were his heavy breathing. He did ten reps as she watched.

She waited until he put the bar down and sat up before she moved. She didn’t make a sound, she knew she hadn’t, but his head turned and for a brief moment there was a fiery heat burning in the depths of his gaze. Then he blinked and when he looked at her, his expression was shuttered.

That blank look cracked as she lowered her hands to the robe’s belt. She didn’t say anything at first, just opened the robe and stood there as he looked at her. He stared at her breasts and she shuddered a little when he licked his lips. His big hands clenched into fists and under the thin cotton shorts, she could see the swelling of his cock. His gaze moved down her body. Jaynie had to fight not to jerk the robe closed when his gaze fastened on her sex. A muscle jerked in his jaw and Jaynie felt an answering throb deep inside.

He wanted her. The relief that flooded her was unreal. It didn’t matter that he was probably just reacting to the physical stimulus of a woman standing naked in front of him. It was a basic, honest human reaction—a man wanting a woman. That was all she needed, to know that she hadn’t totally failed and that she could react. Men could want her and she could feel heat—she hadn’t frozen up.

“I need you to touch me.”

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Coming soon…

Guilty Needs 2016

The Right Kind of Trouble

McKay tirlogy

Coming in August…

Desire won’t take no for an answer.

In the small southern town of McKay’s Treasure, everybody knows that the handsome local police chief, Gideon Marshall, has been carrying a torch for Moira McKay. It’s also no secret that Moira has been rejecting Gideon since…forever. But after an attack from a mysterious stranger bent on taking down the McKay family, Moira becomes filled with distrust toward most men. Now she wonders whether she’s been wrong about Gideon all along—and if it’s not too late to admit him back into her life…and into her bed…

Gideon has finally convinced his wasted heart to give up on Moira, the woman he’s loved since he was sixteen years old. But when Moira is attacked,Gideon vows to protect her. But how much is he willing to risk for a woman who’s always kept him at bay—until now? And is it too late for Moira to tell him that her love for him has always been locked deep in her heart…and he holds the key?

Read more about the McKays>>

Headed For Trouble | The Trouble With Temptation

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Headed For Trouble…now out

scottish romance heroes

Available now!

“That’s it,” he growled against her mouth. “Ride me . . . that’s it . . . ”

She whimpered, the sound broken now, almost stunned.

He eased her down, slowly, because when he took her back up the next time, she was going to be wrapped around his dick.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand.

Feeling her eyes on him, he lifted his hand to his lips and licked his fingers.

She blushed, staring at his hand as if mesmerized.

“Ah . . . ” She blinked and looked around.

He cut off the question with a hard kiss. “Tell me you have a condom with you.”

 

Shit.

Neve blinked up at him. “Um . . . no?”

He squinted at her, as if the word made no sense.

Then he backed it up.

“What d’ you mean . . . no?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Just that. No.” Her fingers hurt. The reason why became apparent. She was practically trying to imprint them on the ridged track that made up the sexy Scot’s torso. Uncurling them, she looked around. Embarrassment would probably settle in later. But for now, all she wanted was a damn condom.

Blushing furiously, she stared at him. “I don’t typically pick guys up in bars. I never really have a need to carry condoms around so I don’t have them.”

She didn’t carry a purse anymore. She had her cash and credit cards with her, along with her cell phone. There was pepper spray on a quick release hook on her back, and her passport was tucked in a concealed flap inside her backpack.

There were definitely no condoms.

As he continued to gape at her, she had to try not to sulk. “What about you? You’re the damn guy. Don’t you have anything?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

“I don’t carry them because I don’t often have a need of them,” he said, looking put out. “But why does logic have to play into this?”

It took a moment for his words to make sense. She was so busy staring at his mouth and remembering how his beard had felt as he kissed her that she didn’t care what he was saying.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to go mad.”

She didn’t even have time to breathe before his mouth crushed hers and she was trapped between him and the gate, his hard, heavy body driving into hers, the rhythm unmistakable. His tongue sought out hers, echoing the rhythm of his hips, and she reached out, closing her hands around the hard, round curve of his ass.

Thirty seconds later, he had her wrists in his hands.

No

“Enough,” he muttered, letting go without noticing anything was wrong. He sucked in a harsh gulp of air. “We’re leaving. I’ll go across the bloody square, buy a box of condoms. My flat is just up those stairs—we can be back here in five minutes.”

His gaze came to hers and Neve’s knees went weak as he added, “I’ll be inside you within six.”

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And…He’s here. Will and Mandy. Grimm’s End. The End

The End

He would walk into hell for her. Hell’s not willing to let him back out.

Grimm’s Circle, Book 9

Years have passed since Will flung himself headlong into demon central. Everyone has told Mandy he’s lost to them, but she still won’t believe it. He was her heart and soul—still is—even if he never admitted they belonged together.

When a friend is nearly torn through a rip between the worlds, Mandy gets the sign she’s hoped and prayed for. Her friend is thrust back through to safety by no other than Will himself.

With all hell breaking loose on earth, only two Grimm can be spared for the mission to retrieve their leader—Mandy and the only other Grimm crazy enough to go with her.

Will would forget the color of the sky before he’d forget the love of all his lives. But his time is done. It’s only a matter of which demon will finally destroy him.

He never thought his final moments would be haunted by Mandy’s face. But is it a fitting punishment, or one last chance to atone for crimes he committed so long ago?

Warning: This book contains too much angst, too many secrets, and two people who long to be together. It’s also the end of a long, fun ride. Thanks for taking it.

Excerpt

You of all creatures.

Something wet trickled down his hand and he looked down to see that it was stained with the ichor that served for blood in the demons that populated this world.

He swiped it on the rags that had become of his clothes.

The smear faded into the others. It had been so long since he had been clean. He wouldn’t even remember how it felt. It had been so long since he had worn something other than these rags. He looked down, staring at the denim that lie under the dirt.

Mandy had given these to him.

Soon, they’d barely even resemble the jeans they’d once been. He stroked a finger down the worn seam and thought of her.

Drawn by an instinct he couldn’t explain, he slid to the ground and used his knife to cut a small strip from one leg’s hem. It was already ragged so he went up higher and cut where it wasn’t too torn or worn. Once he had a long enough strip, he tore it free from the rest of the leg and stared at it.

Is there anything you can wear that won’t end up white?

Laughter echoed in her eyes as she walked in and found him plucking at the already fading shirt she’d given him. He’d warned her, told her she was wasting her money.

It’s my money. Let me waste it. You can come into the twenty-first century, Will. Wear some jeans. Wear a T-shirt, a sweatshirt, a Henley…be comfortable for once in your endless life.

Slowly, he wrapped the faded denim around the hilt of his knife, up near the top, smoothing it and tightening it until it didn’t interfere with his grip, and then adjusting it until it felt like it was part of the grip itself.

He closed his eyes and stroked his thumb down. He held it in place with his thumb as he walked across the ground, returning to what had become his base. Any number of things ended up on this side. In the time since he’d been here—weeks, months, years—he’d come across the salvaged remains of a bus, a small private jet, numerous cars, numerous corpses.

Few of the demons had the strength, but on rare occasion, some horror allowed a creature like an orin to twist at a rip and make it large enough for a few moments, just a few, to pull something massive through. Something like a bus, a small private jet…a few cars.

He scavenged those sites, falling back on skills he hadn’t had to use since early in his life, but some things, it seemed, were never truly lost. Food, while not crucial, made things easier so he took every bit he found, eating the perishables immediately and saving anything that didn’t have a shelf life. The few times he’d been able to make any attempt to clean himself had been because he’d come across a diaper bag or something of that sort.

The item he needed today had come from a bag as well.

A woman’s purse. He found a small sewing kit tucked inside his cache and sat down, his back to the rough rock wall just outside the mouth of his cave and he threaded the needle as he stared out across a barren landscape.

He went over the scrap of fabric with careful, neat stitches, reliving the past dozen years—or the dozen years he’d had with her—over in his mind. They were painfully clear, like they’d been cut with crystal and etched upon his brain.

“She’s a fighter, Will.”

“She can’t survive these wounds. And they are too severe for me to heal.”

“Then bring her over. She fought fucking parasei. They raped her, and she still fought.”

He shoved the needle through the material.

Laughing at him when he felt the tug of one of his Grimm.

“Obi Wan Kenobi needs to commune with the Force.”

Another stitch.

“I’m not hovering.”

“And what would you call it, Will? You’re never more than three feet away!”

The needle stabbed into his finger and broke when it hit his bone. He swore and jerked it out, staring at the blood as it welled. But he didn’t see the blood.

He saw her.

Pleading with him.

“Don’t. Don’t do this, Will. I love you.”

With a roar, he shoved upright and spun, slamming his fist into the rock. It did nothing to ease his pain and he did it again and again and again. Rock cracked and dust rose around him and he never noticed.

He continued to pound on the massive wall of stone even as pebbles, small bits of rock and debris started to rain down on him from above.

If it hadn’t been for the ripple in the air, he might have buried himself. Might have, and he likely would have welcomed it. The crushing, suffocating weight of being buried under tons of stone would have been a welcome respite from the weight of his own guilt and every other obstacle he’d placed between himself and the one woman in all his years that he’d actually ever wanted.

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Two more days until it’s all over…

Grimm's End

 

Despondent, I reached out and fisted my hand in the grass.

The stupid, stubbornly green grass.

Black feathers appeared in my line of sight and a moment later, gold-dusted skin followed.

Crow sat in front of me and finally, I looked up.

He arched a brow.

“You will not speak?” he asked softly.

“I don’t have much to say to you.”

“It isn’t my fault the traitor is gone,” Crow said, lifting a shoulder. “He owes a debt he can never repay.”

Oh. That was so the wrong thing to say.

I was on my feet. I didn’t even recall moving. Shoving my face into his, I jammed a finger into his chest. It was like trying to shove a finger through a boulder. He didn’t budge. I just shoved harder. “I don’t give a damn what debt he owes. If you got a problem with him, that’s your tough luck. You clearly have no idea how many lives he’s saved, how much good he has done. Whatever he fucked up back in the day? I think he’s square with the house again.”

“Square?” Crow’s brows dropped.

I could all but see him puzzling through what she’d said. Yeah, yeah, yeah…I’d used modern talk with somebody who was clearly not modern. The weight of his years hung over me like an oppressive cloak, grabbing at my neck, all but choking me.

Will and Sina had that kind of feel to them, but Crow was even more so. I don’t want to think about how old he was. Once, I’d managed to get enough information out of Sina to make a stab at her age. She wasn’t quite two thousand years old, but she was close.

Will was—and damn it, he was still alive—older.

Crow had even more age to him—I could feel it weighing down the air around me.

He felt so very…other.

I think he’d been human once, but he now made no attempt at being anything but what he was. Other.

“Yes.” I went back to staring at the spot where I’d last seen Will. “He’s paid his debt, and then some.”

Sometimes I thought that if I stared hard enough, if I waited long enough, he would just come back. He could find his way back.

Crow sighed.

“Foolish child. You don’t even understand what he did. How can you decide if he has paid?”

“He’s got more than two thousand years of paying under his belt,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s been forced to kill and bring people back, forced to watch everything he knows, everybody he knows die and watch as the world changes all around him—and he’s still here. You think that’s not an acceptable payment?”

I looked up at him.

“He’s given up his very soul. What else must he give up?”

Crow made a derisive snort. “The one you call Will has no soul. He gave that shriveled, useless thing up long ago. But believe in your fairy story if you must. Perhaps it will comfort you.”

He rose and launched himself into the sky. My eyes watered from the force of his passing.

“Fairy tale,” I muttered. “It’s fairy tale.”

And I’d do just that. I had little else left to believe in.

Grimm’s End

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