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Razed…almost ready

Razed

He pressed his thumb to the wide, soft curve of her lower lip.

Eyes on that curve, he said, “So . . . what? You here looking for a quick fuck, Keelie?”

She jerked, tried to pull away.

He didn’t let her, leaning his weight more heavily against her although he knew full well he might be tasting his balls, bloody and broken, in his throat in a moment.

“Back off,” she bit off.

“No.” He dipped his head, rubbed his lips against hers, and when she averted her head, he  skimmed them along her neck. “I’m just trying to see the picture that’s so obvious for you. I mean, I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for . . . hell, three years now, if I remember right.”

Three years. Eight month. Two weeks? Not that he was counting, really.

When she did nothing, said nothing, just watched him with those inscrutable eyes of blue and brown, he leaned in and buried his face against her hair. Black and white again, the chunks of black framing her face.

“What’s this obvious thing I’m missing, Keelie?” he asked.

Then his eyes just about crossed, because instead of outright answering, she twined long, long legs around him and arched, pressing the heat of her sex against him and rocked. “This . . .” That pink flush rode her cheeks, hotter now, brighter, while her eyes practically glittered at him. “This. Isn’t it obvious what’s going on?”

Zane couldn’t help it. He caught her hips in his hands, his fingers digging into the curve of her ass as he leaned into her and rocked against her, hard, fast. Once, twice.

She shuddered and met him. And when he stopped, she whimpered.

He slid a hand up, closed it over her throat. The mad beat of her pulse against his palm drove him insane. He wanted to cover that fragile bit of skin with his mouth and bite down, suck on her skin until she shivered and whispered his name.

Instead, he said, “There are a lot of names for what this is. A quick fuck, like I mentioned. Keelie, that’s easy, and either one of us can get it any way. I’ll be honest . . . that’s not what I want from you.”

Indiebound | BN | BAMM | iBooks | Amazon

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BUSTED… and oh wow, is this cover awesome…

busted

 

Man, oh, man…is this cover amazing or what?

Here.  A snippet.  FYI, this is unedited and may change during edits.

The first time Trey Barnes saw her it caught him by surprise.

Not because he knew her.

Not because of anything she did.

But because it had been six years since a woman had caused this kind of reaction in him.

Six years.

So it was a punch in the gut when he walked into the Norfolk library for the kid’s reading program and saw her.  His tongue all but glued itself to his mouth and his brain threatened to do a slow meltdown.

The woman was kneeling down in the middle of a circle of kids, a smile on her mouth.  A mouth slicked wine red and he suddenly found himself dying of thirst.

It had also been six years since he’d touched a drop of alcohol, but in that moment, he found himself imagining a glass of wine.  Wine…wine-red lips, wine-red sheets and the two of them stretched out on a bed as he ran his hands over that warm, lovely brown skin.

“Come on, Daddy!” Clayton jerked on his hand.  “Let’s go!  I want to go play.”

His son’s voice dragged him out of the fantasy, rich and lush as it was, and he shook his head a little to clear it.  A heavy fullness lingered in his loins and he was glad he’d gotten used to look like a bum.  The untucked shirt had fit him well enough when he bought it years ago, but the weight he’d lost after Aliesha’s death had stayed off so the shirt hung loose on his rangy frame.  Loose enough that he figured it would hide the hard-on that yet to subside.

A few minutes surrounded by chattering preschoolers ought to do it, he thought.

Clayton let go of his hand as he got closer and he reached up, nudged his sunglasses down.  As he’d retreated farther and farther into hermit mode, fewer people recognized him, but he rarely went anywhere without something hide his face.  Between the hair he rarely remembered to cut and the sunglasses, people didn’t often recognize him these days.

A shrill shriek split the air as two kids started to fight over a book.

That’s going to do it, he mused.  Blood that had burned so hot a minute before dropped back in the normal zone.

Only to jump right back up into the danger zone.

Miz Sexy Librarian was standing in front of the two kids.

And fuck… her voice was a wet dream.

“Now I know you two weren’t raised to treat books that way.  Do you do that at home?”

Two pint-sized little blond heads tipped back to stare up at her.  Trey barely noticed them, because his gaze was riveted on the plump, round curve of her ass.  How could he not notice that ass?  She wore a long, skinny skirt that went down a few inches below her knees and her stockings were the kind with a seam that ran up the back of her legs.

He passed a hand over his mouth.

Hell of a way to realize he could still get aroused—in the middle of the children’s section of the very public, very busy Norfolk library.  Gritting his teeth, he focused on the ceiling.  Would counting sheep help?

“Hello.”

That whiskey-smooth drawl was like a silken hand stroking down his back…or other things. He cleared his throat. Speak, dumb-ass.

“Hi!”

Saved by the Clayton-meister.

Mentally blowing out a breath, he watched as his son rocked back and forth on his heels, smiling up at the woman.

“Are you here for the program?” she asked.

“I am!”  Clayton stuck out his hand.  “I’m Clay.  I love books.  My dad tells me stories.  All the time.  Sometimes he even makes them up.  He gets paid to do that, too.”

Due out in May 2015.  Read WRECKED and RAZED.

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Furious Fire… Grimm #8…

It’s showing up for pre-order.

FuriousFire72lg

 

“Finn, why don’t you let our…guest…come inside?”

Finn fought the urge to grab the orin, grab it, loose the fire inside him and listen as its screams flooded the night around him.

Burn.

He just wanted to let the thing—and his own rage—burn.

But he stepped aside and let the demon see Will.

If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the tiny flicker of lashes, the minute tightening of facial muscles. Such a small betrayal of emotion, but it was like a neon sign.

Fear

Demons fed on it, as long as it wasn’t their own.

And while one lone Grimm wasn’t necessarily enough to make one of the orin quake, all bets were off if the Grimm was the one who wore white.

Amazon | Kobo

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So… the next Barnes Brothers’ book…

After Zane, that is.

Busted

From the national bestselling author of Wrecked and Razed comes an emotionally charged story of undeniable passion and life-affirming love…

Like his brothers Zach and Zane, Trey Barnes thought he had found the love of his life. But fate had other plans. A widower who’s had to raise his five-year-old son on his own, Trey has not allowed himself to be with another woman. Until he meets Ressa Bliss at—of all places—a children’s library program. The beautiful librarian is wonderful with his son, Clay, but every time Trey even considers asking her out, he is tortured by guilt.

Fate is indeed fickle. When the two meet again at a conference, this time the attraction is too powerful to resist. But is their connection and passion strong enough to survive Trey’s deep inner torment?

 

Coming in May 2015

Kindle

Sweeter than Sin… releases next week…

Sweeter than Sin is due out next week.

I’m doing another FB party…if you’re on FB, you can join us. We’re giving stuff away and having fun. :)

Adam

 

It could be said that Adam Brascum loved women.

It could be said.

But it would be off-target.  Adam didn’t love women—he didn’t hate them, but he didn’t love them, either.  He needed them.

The soft curves, the scent of their skin, the husky voices as they whispered to him in the night.  If he worked it right, he could spent the night with any number of them, and he wouldn’t have to be alone unless he wanted.

Wouldn’t have to be alone, with just the voices in his head, the memory of a phone call, the memory of a smile, the memory of the girl he might have been able to save.

If only he’d done something.

Now, years after, when it was far too late, he was doing something.  Drowning his sorrows between the thighs of just about any woman who would have him.

There had been a time when he’d drown his sorrows with a woman, along with the help of his good friend, Captain Morgan, or maybe some Jack Daniels, but that had all stopped on a cold wintry day.  He could still remember the soft, sad words spoken in his ear and at the foot of a grave, he’d made a promise.

He didn’t make them often, but when he did, he kept them.

So the booze was gone.

His only vice now was women.

Lately, though, that vice wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

He didn’t even know the name of the woman in bed next to him.  She was beautiful, a long, sleek woman maybe ten years older than him and she had left him feeling like she could put him through his paces for the rest of the night.  He’d slept maybe thirty minutes, her neck tucked against his chest, her hand resting on his stomach.

And then the nightmare hit.

He was standing in front of the house.

Just standing there.

It was dark.

It was cold.

The dimly lit windows mocked him.  If he moved any closer, the lights would go out, and he’d find nothing.

But he could hear her.  Her voice, whispering his name.

Adam…why didn’t you help…

Why didn’t you…

Why didn’t you…

 

He came awake, choking back the oath.  He’d learned long ago that when he made noise, whatever partner he had in bed with him tended to ask questions.  Questions weren’t the kind of thing he liked to entertain in bed, so he eventually figured out how to strangle the groans, the curses…even the screams.

After all these years, it was second nature.

Next to him, there was a long, soft sigh.  He froze, listened.

After years and years of slipping out of beds, he’d all but perfected it to an art and he could almost tell to the second when a woman was about to wake.

She shifted, rolled onto her belly.

Adam turned his head, stared at her in the dim light filtering in through the skylight.  Her face, all but lost in the darkness, was a clean oval, her skin a warm, rich brown, her lips sweet and full.  She had a wicked laugh and she’d looked at him like she had more than a few ideas about any secrets he might harbor.  She’d looked, and she hadn’t cared.

I just divorced a son of a bitch who’d been cheating on me for eight years.  I knew, and I couldn’t leave him.  Now I can.  She told him that, sitting across from him at the sports bar he owned, staring at him with clear eyes.  This is how I burn those bridges.

He’d lifted an eyebrow at her.   Just how do you burn them, Jez?

He was the only man I ever shared my bed with and I plan on changing that damn fast.  I’m almost fifty years old and I don’t want the only man I’ve slept with to be a lying, cheating son of a bitch.

He was a son of a bitch, but he couldn’t be called a cheater.  He’d never married, never even had a serious relationship. Again, it went back to promises.  If you didn’t make them, you didn’t have to worry about breaking them.

I might be a son of a bitch, but I’m clear on the rest of it.

She’d smiled at him.

They’d ended up in her room at the B&B, not the big one in town, but a smaller, quieter one out near the river and she’d all but turned him inside out.  A hungry woman, a hot woman…that should have left him too burned out to dream.

But here he was, on the edges of a desolate nightmare.

While Jez slept on.

He leaned in, brushed her cheek with his lips.  “Find somebody who’ll do more than just share your bed, Jez,” he murmured.

She made a grumbling sound under her breath and then sighed, a faint smile curving her wicked, delicious mouth.

Then she shoved her face into the pillow.

He was gone in less than three minutes.

But he didn’t go home.

Amazon | BN | IndieBound | Book Depository | iBooks

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Sweeter than Sin… want an early read?

m4s0n501

It’s just a few more weeks…

Saved one of my copies for a giveaway here.  Want it?

 

Sweeter than Sin

 

It could be said that Adam Brascum loved women.

It could be said.

But it would be off-target.  Adam didn’t love women—he didn’t hate them, but he didn’t love them, either.  He needed them.

The soft curves, the scent of their skin, the husky voices as they whispered to him in the night.  If he worked it right, he could spent the night with any number of them, and he wouldn’t have to be alone unless he wanted.

Wouldn’t have to be alone, with just the voices in his head, the memory of a phone call, the memory of a smile, the memory of the girl he might have been able to save.

If only he’d done something.

Now, years after, when it was far too late, he was doing something.  Drowning his sorrows between the thighs of just about any woman who would have him.

There had been a time when he’d drown his sorrows with a woman, along with the help of his good friend, Captain Morgan, or maybe some Jack Daniels, but that had all stopped on a cold wintry day.  He could still remember the soft, sad words spoken in his ear and at the foot of a grave, he’d made a promise.

He didn’t make them often, but when he did, he kept them.

So the booze was gone.

His only vice now was women.

Lately, though, that vice wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

He didn’t even know the name of the woman in bed next to him.  She was beautiful, a long, sleek woman maybe ten years older than him and she had left him feeling like she could put him through his paces for the rest of the night.  He’d slept maybe thirty minutes, her neck tucked against his chest, her hand resting on his stomach.

And then the nightmare hit.

He was standing in front of the house.

Just standing there.

It was dark.

It was cold.

The dimly lit windows mocked him.  If he moved any closer, the lights would go out, and he’d find nothing.

But he could hear her.  Her voice, whispering his name…

 

To enter, just tell me that last romantic suspense you read.  :)  I’m always looking for good ones.

Contest open through the end of the week!  Standard disclaimer applies. Entering means you’ve read it and agreed, including the part where the winner is posted here and must check back to claim the prize within two weeks!

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