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We’re so glad you’re here! Today we kick off our 5th Annual Spookapalooza @ TRS! Stick around. It’s going to be a frightfully good time!

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Tara Fox Hall #1 #2

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Tarah Scott #1


To Tame a Highland Earl by Tarah Scott

tscottTo Tame a Highland Earl by Tarah Scott

A man torn between two worlds. Both need him…neither wants him.

Groomed for a life amongst the English aristocracy, Lord Erroll Rushton is unexpectedly thrust back into his father’s Scottish world when the Englishwoman he compromises refuses to marry him.

No gentleman breaks into a lady’s bedchamber…but then, no lady sleeps with a pistol under her pillow.

Miss Eve Crenshaw will marry for love or won’t marry at all. When London’s most notorious rakehell breaks into her bedchamber in the dead of night and compromises her beyond repair, Eve plans a daring escape that shocks even the Earl.


March 1807

Manchester, England

If ever a woman deserved to be shot, it was Miss Crenshaw. But dawn appointments weren’t meant for the weaker sex. Weaker sex. The lady was anything but weak, which is why Erroll intended to throttle her.

Erroll laid a shilling in the innkeeper’s palm. “You understand the need for discretion.”

“Indeed, I do, my lord,” the man replied. “Your betrothed’s reputation is safe with me.”

Erroll managed to maintain a bland expression as the innkeeper handed him the key to the lady’s room. So news of his impending nuptials had sped from Coventry to Manchester even quicker than he had—which meant London society would hear the news by morning light and the story would cross the border to Edinburgh just as quickly.

Which of the gossipmongers had he to thank for that? He was grateful to the heavenly powers that his mother had remained in Scotland and not accompanied his father to England this month. God help him if she got wind of this entanglement before he had a chance to extricate himself from the tenacious claw of the husband-hunting wench.

“A beautiful woman is hard to resist,” the innkeeper said.

“Indeed,” Erroll murmured, glad the man had interrupted the mental picture of his mother outfitting the deceitful huntress in her wedding dress. No bachelor’s mother was more determined to see her son wed than Erroll’s own dear mamma, and since his return from the navy, his father had put his considerable weight behind her efforts.

He whirled toward the stairs, climbed to the second floor and made a left down the hall. At the third door on the left, he stopped. Erroll had endured his father’s hour-long diatribe that ended with the command to marry the woman who had accused him of compromising her—a woman he’d never laid eyes on—before he finally broke away to discover his accuser had fled Coventry. The hard five hour ride to catch her before she reached her father’s estate would have been in vain if not for the fact a wheel on her carriage broke forty miles distance from Manchester.

This experience would teach him to dally with the women outside of London. Had he satisfied himself with the eligible ladies in Town—if those females could be called ladies—he wouldn’t have gone to Coventry and attended the damn house party that had gotten him into trouble. The fact he’d spent a pleasurable hour with a lady in the hostess’ gardens had only served to put him in the very place his accuser said he’d been. Erroll felt sure the cunning creature was well aware he’d been in the gardens, and therefore claimed to be the object of his attentions.

Erroll quietly unlocked the door, slipped into the darkened room, then eased the door shut and slipped the key into his pocket. Faint moonlight filtered in through thin curtains and outlined the sleeping figure in the bed. Erroll crept forward until he reached the bed. He braced a knee against the side of the mattress, then placed a hand on each side of the woman and brought his face to within an inch of hers.

She shifted in her sleep and lush breasts grazed his chest. He wondered how long it would be before she became aware a man was in her bed, then concluded that since she hadn’t awoken with a shriek she must be accustomed to having a man in her bed. He should ravish her as she’d said he had just for good measure. The thought froze at the pressure of a pistol jammed against his abdomen.

“I am a crack shot.” The feminine voice was steady—as was the hand holding the gun. “But even the worst shot in Great Britain couldn’t miss.” The gun dug deeper into his belly. “Move away.”

Erroll considered. Her calm response to his presence almost made him think she’d expected him. “If I’m to be shot, I should at least commit the crime for which I’m accused.” The click of the pistol’s hammer being pulled back was his answer. “I see you do not agree.” He straightened off the bed.

“Step back,” she ordered.

He retreated two paces.


He moved back another two paces.

“I promise you, sir, my aim is as true at such short a distance as it was when you were an inch from my face. Back against the door.”

Erroll complied. A light click indicated she had released the hammer back into place. She rose, a small figure in the shadows, and picked up something from the night table. The clink of glass was followed by the scrape of a match on wood, then light flared and he got his first look at the woman who claimed he had ravished away her innocence. Dark brown eyes pinned him with a hard stare. Honey-brown hair tumbled down her shoulders. The top of her head was no higher than his chest.

The muff pistol remained pointed at him as her attention shifted to the lamp on the nightstand. She bent slightly and her full breasts strained against the nightgown as she lit the wick. His cock jerked and he couldn’t deny his good fortune in not having met her at Lady Baldwin’s party. He very well might have fallen prey to her charms and been guilty of her accusations.

She blew out the match and tossed it onto a metal tray, then took a step toward him. The lamplight illuminated the outline of her body through the nightgown. The curves he discerned were fuller than were fashionable and the kind he’d sought without success. His cock began to lift. He might end up shot after all.

“You are no common housebreaker,” she said. “Who are you?”

Erroll’s mind snapped to attention. The wench didn’t recognize him. Fury doused his lust. He gave a mocking smile and bowed. “Lord Erroll Rushton, at your service.”

Shock registered on her face, then an answering fire appeared in her eyes. “I see we shall have to break you of the habit of entering a lady’s room uninvited.”

“You use the term lady too loosely.”

“That is the pot calling the kettle black.”

He nearly laughed.

“One would think a prospective groom could keep his cock in his pants with his wedding but two days hence,” she said.

“Three days,” Erroll corrected. That was how long it would take him to get the special license his father ordered him to procure. “Pray tell, what sort of lady carries a gun?” He didn’t ask what lady used the word ‘cock’ as easily as the word ‘groom?’ That was perhaps too obvious.

“The sort who knows what to expect of a man,” she replied.

“The very sort who understands a man might object to being forced into marriage?” he said.

She gave a derisive laugh. “You are a rakehell, sir.”

“I never denied being a rake, madam, but I am no liar.”

She wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d been told this was to be her second season, but this woman was no debutante and, given the way she unabashedly stood before him in her nightclothes, he would wager she was no virgin.

“Surely, you’re a little old for this game?” he drawled.

Her brow knit, but he detected no shame. She was too collected. But a level head—along with a liberal dose of nerve—is exactly what it took to accuse a complete stranger of compromising her.

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” she asked.

The question startled him.

“Now who is the pot calling the kettle black?” he said. She shifted and Erroll could have sworn he discerned a dark patch between her legs. “A shame we met under these circumstances.” He flicked a glance at her breasts. “We could have been friends.”

Her mouth thinned. “By God, I really should shoot you.”

“Tut tut, love, not until the vows are said and I claim what is left of your virtue.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

“Your righteous anger is completely undone by the fact that you’re nearly naked.”

Her mouth twisted in a derisive smile. “Forgive me, my lord. Had I known you were coming, I would have dressed for the occasion.”

“You are impeccably dressed for the occasion.”

Did she have any idea how visible the contours of her body were with the lamplight behind her…or how her nipples pressed against her nightgown? She shifted, widening her stance slightly and his cock jerked harder. Oh yes, the witch knew.

“I should send you to hell this instant,” she said.

He lifted a brow. “The marriage vows will take care of that—had I any intentions of marrying.”



Resolutions by Teri Riggs



Resolutions by Teri Riggs

DEA agent Eve Taylor has had her fill of alpha males. When Resolutions’ operative and former lover, Dillon “Mac” McKenna, threatened her hard-earned independence, she ran. On a mission to gather evidence against a Colombian drug-lord, Eve discovers the drug-lord is helping terrorists plan an attack on American soil. Before she can escape with the vital information, she’s captured and comes face to face with her mortality… As a teen, Mac watched his family fall apart after his mother died doing dangerous U.N. work. The possibility of losing Eve to a mission ignited an overwhelming need to protect her. When he forced her to choose him or her job, she walked away. Two years later, it seems all his nightmares have come true and he’s tasked with rescuing her from a Colombian prison. Mac has never stopped loving Eve, but does he dare risk his heart when he’s so terrified of losing… On the run, Mac and Eve must learn to trust each other again in order to stay alive.


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It’s my birthday! Here’s a free book to celebrate the event


New Release…

Just in time to send a shudder up your spine, Grave Hauntings has a mixture of scary, sexy, and downright sizzlingly HOT short stories. The talented authors in this group worked excruciatingly hard to make your evenings seem a touch creepier and the corners feel a bit darker. There’s something for everyone. From vampires and wolves, to ghosts and zombies, to death dealers – well, as far as those are concerned, you might find a friend to hide behind.
This may be a season of fun and excitement for the children as they imbibe too much sugar, but we feel the adults need a Halloween jolt as well. Come celebrate the true Halloween spirit with us.

Charity Parkerson
Suzy Ayers
The Black
Thianna D.
C.E. Black
Eric Keys
Will LaForge
Corey Harper
Darling Adams

Excerpt from Simply Amazing, a short, FREE read!

Simply Amazing is the FREE short story I wrote as a prequel to the third book in the Arrington Family Series, Only One for Me. Check out the blurb and excerpt and then click on one of the buy links. After all, it is FREE! Have a great night!

pink font


Cannon Arrington has pushed aside a social life to dedicate his time to medical school, extracurricular activities, and helping others … that is, until he lays his eyes on the angelic face of Yasmine Dubose. For Cannon, meeting her was like a breath of fresh air. Something about the bubbly, sexy teacher makes him realize he needs to stop and smell the roses.

Yasmine has had a crush on Cannon since high school, but he never noticed the nerdy freshman. Now she’s blossomed into a woman who’s full of life. She knows Cannon’s drive for success is important to him, but she fears he’ll become even more of a workaholic than her father, who died when she was a child.

Will Cannon settle down and learn how to balance his career and love life, or will he lose the simply amazing woman who has stolen his heart?


(A little background about the excerpt. Cannon participated in a Read-a-Thon at a local elementary school and read a book to Yasmine’s class earlier that day.)

During the afternoon, Yasmine’s class worked on their thank you cards and drew pictures of scenes from the book. She tried to stay focused, but nerves overtook her as she thought about whether or not to contact Cannon to give him the cards. She’d promised her students she would make sure he received them, and if he ever came to visit again, she knew that would be the first question they would ask.

That evening, Yasmine sat on the couch with her laptop and all of the thank you cards stacked up on the coffee table. She decided she was going to email Cannon and ask him for his address so she could mail the cards in one big envelope, along with the pictures of him reading to the students.

Muffled hip-hop music began to reverberate through the ceiling, quickly followed by a loud crash interrupting her contemplative mood. She sighed and stared up in the apartment she’d lived in since her senior year of college. Apparently, the new tenants above her were having a party, as usual. At the time, it made sense to rent an apartment a few miles from campus, but now she was ready to move.

Trying to tune the music out, she read over the email, deleted it for the fifth time, and began to type out another one.

“Dear Cannon … no wait … that’s too formal.” She deleted it. “Hey, Cannon. No wait. Hey is for a horse, at least that’s what my mother says. Let’s see. Hi, Cannon. Yep. That’s better.”

Hi, Cannon!

Thank you so much for reading to my class today. My students enjoyed it very much. To show their appreciation, they made you thank you cards, and I would like to mail them to you. If you could send me your address when you have a chance that would be great, or call me at 555-0819.


Yasmine Dubose

“Perfect. That sounds better.”

She read it ten times, deleted it, walked away from the computer, typed it again, deleted it, took a shower, retyped it without her phone number, and then added it back in.

Okay, this is ridiculous. You aren’t the shy little girl you were in high school. It shouldn’t take two hours to send an email. You’re a strong, independent woman who simply needs a handsome man’s address to honor the request of her students.

Yasmine pressed send and closed her laptop before she changed her mind.



Cannon glanced at his laptop when his email account notified him he had a new message. He was reading over a ten page paper he received back that afternoon and wasn’t interested in anything outside of it.


He received a B+ because he had a few typos. He hated anything less than an A, unless it was a hard B, but he was too intelligent and too much of a perfectionist to even accept that. The professor had written a note in red on the cover page:

Excellent A paper, but you need to get a proofreader for the next one because I may not be so lenient next time.

Cannon read through the paper, taking note of all of his careless mistakes. He was surprised at his errors, but Raven blamed it on his lack of sleep and taking on too many outside projects. She was the more focused twin who concentrated only on her classes and elected not to have any extracurricular activities outside of medical school.


Cannon tossed the paper on his desk and proceeded to his bed, where the laptop sat. He had two emails waiting. One was from his sister, Bria, and one from Yasmine Dubose. Baby sister could wait. He clicked on Yasmine’s name and read the short message, imagining her bubbly voice in his head.

He read it again and smiled. He’d been thinking about her off and on during the day and kicking himself for not getting her phone number, but he thought it would be inappropriate to ask for it in her classroom. Instead, he’d planned on asking Doug to set something up with Sherika and Yasmine to see her again, but now he didn’t have to. Her number was staring back at him on the screen.

He quickly checked his sister’s email. At seventeen, Bria was into boys, shopping, and sports. Captain of her soccer team, she wanted him to know that they’d won the game thanks to her winning kick and that their youngest sibling, Shelbi, had been elected to sophomore class president. He emailed Bria back with congratulations to both sisters.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him of something he’d meant to do since two o’clock. Eat. He glanced at his watch. It was nine at night.

He proceeded to the kitchen as he dialed Yasmine’s number and opened the refrigerator. The left over pizza was gone. Thanks, Raven. Everything else was breakfast food. He grabbed the eggs, cheese, an onion, a bell pepper, and ham to make an omelet.


His heart smiled at the sound of her beautiful voice in his ear.

“Hi, Yasmine. This is Cannon Arrington. Are you busy?”

“Nope.  Just grading papers.”

“Working on a Friday night? I’m surprised a woman as adorable as you isn’t out on a date.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but I needed a break. The last few dates I’ve been on were horrible. One guy just rambled on about himself the entire time.”

“He was probably nervous being around you. Some men become big blabbermouths when in the presence of a lovely woman.”

She giggled. “Thank you.”

“Just speaking the truth.”


He cleared his throat. “So how’s your mother?”

“She’s fine. Still teaching AP biology and chemistry. She only has a few more years before retirement, but I have a feeling she’ll work beyond that.”

“Your mother is a wonderful teacher. I learned so much from her.”

“Thank you. I’ll let her know you asked about her. I wanted to get your address so I can send you the thank you cards.”

“Of course.” He whisked the eggs into a bowl. “Let me know when you’re ready to jot it down.”

After he gave her his address, they caught up on their lives since high school, her funny stories about teaching so far, and her noisy neighbors. He let her do most of the talking because he wanted to know everything about her; plus, he enjoyed listening to her bubbly, sweet voice. She wasn’t the nerdy, shy teenager he remembered. She was full of life and had blossomed into a delightful, intelligent woman.

Before he realized it, it was after two o’clock in the morning. He’d retreated to his bedroom after eating his omelet and had stretched out on top of the comforter.

“Yasmine, I didn’t realize what time it was…” His sentence trailed off into a yawn. “It’s 2:15 in the morning.”

She yawned. “Yeah … it sure is,” she replied in a sleepy tone and yawned again. “Cannon, stop yawning. You’re making me yawn. I have to be up at six in the morning for a breast cancer walk.”

“I’ll let you go to bed.”

“I’m already in bed,” she moaned. “Nice and snug.”

Her moan wasn’t supposed to be sexual, but the thought of her nice and snug in bed had his mind in the gutter. It was definitely time to let her go, even though he didn’t want to. Instead, he’d rather listen to her sleepy moans in his ear until the sun came up.

“It was really nice talking with you.”



“Huh … mmmm … Cannon?”

I see a cold shower in my future if she keeps moaning and saying my name like that.

“I’m going to let you go to sleep now,” he said reluctantly. “Have fun at the walk.”

“Mmmm … okay. You too.”

He chuckled. She was definitely drifting off to sleep. “Go ahead and hang up.”

“Good night, Cannon.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he loved the way she said his name as if she’d been saying it for years. As if she was the only woman meant to say it like that. It stirred in him a fervor that he couldn’t explain.

“Sweet dreams, Yasmine.”

Copyright by Candace Shaw, December 2012

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Double The Delight

Roberts Vixen Boxed Set KTwo great authors have combined to give you two very different Erotic Romance stories.

Becky’s Master is set in Colonial Australia while Mastering Justice is set in Modern Day Sydney.

Note: This book contains explicit sexual description and is suitable for 18+ only.

Becky Gentry is desperate to escape her brutal owner.

She makes a bargain with English buccaneer, Ethan Harvey, to take her to safety on his ship.

It costs him his betrothed and his fortune.

He vows to make Becky pay, but all she has to barter is her body.

What will happen when the sex slave falls in love with her Master?

Will she ever make it back home to England?


Moses Jordan is a part African American, Billionaire Computer Geek.  He is also in charge, her Dom.

Imogen Walters is a tall, leggy blonde who practices law. She is his property, his Sub.

They share a fifth floor luxury apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour. She drives a Mercedes, he drives a Ferrari.

She practices law with confidence and is in command, until she steps through the door of their home.

He has vowed to never release her. Does she want to be freed?


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Red Hawk’s Woman by Karen Kay

red-hawks-womanRed Hawk’s Woman by Karen Kay

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Their passion is thunder and lightning. Their fate could be a flood of sorrow.The Lost Clan, Book 3

Red Hawk’s most precious childhood memory is of a single morning with a girl whose beauty seemed lit from within with magic. Now, years later, she could very well hold the key to a centuries-old curse—but when his visions lead him to her again, no recognition lights her eyes.

At age twenty-five, Effie Rutledge has missed her chance for marriage, but the daughter of a renowned archaeologist would rather get her hands dirty on a dig than cleaning up after some man.

She is determined to finish her father’s quest to recover four precious artifacts that could free a lost clan from a half life in the mists, but with her expedition reported as jinxed, there are no guides to be had. Except one tall, enigmatic native who draws her as naturally as water flows to the sea.

Even when memories reconnect, they struggle to trust each other. Worse, their once-in-a-lifetime passion risks the Thunder god’s wrath—and the future of the entire Lost Clan.
This book has been previously published.

Product Warnings

Within the pages of this book is an all-consuming passion, so deep, so sensuous, it might cause you to want to spend the night in a loved one’s arms.


“I am the better swimmer of the two of us,” she taunted him, before she giggled. Though twelve-year old Red Hawk couldn’t discern the words, her meaning was clear. She was playing to win.

He realized his mistake at once. If he were to earn her respect, he would have to prevail in this game. However, he was wise enough to realize that he best not shove defeat at her too soon. Saa, he would need to win this game with her blessing and goodwill. Not an easy feat for a boy of twelve.

Kika, wait,” he called out in the Blackfeet tongue. “Poohsapoot, come here! Let us define this game.”

She paid him no heed, and not because she didn’t understand him, language barrier or not.

He followed her, tagged her, but he didn’t at once retreat. Instead, opening his arms, he invited her to touch him back. To this end, he swam around her, leaping to and fro, but always at her arm’s length.

Tentatively, doubtfully, she reached out toward him. She had almost grazed him again when he extended his hands toward her instead. He tickled her.

“No fair.” She laughed, doubling up. “Your arms are longer than mine. Now, no tickling.”

He didn’t understand her words, though he was fairly certain he comprehended exactly what she wanted. Grinning at her, he repeated the action.

“No!” she said, and there was no mistaking the intent of that word. He wasn’t about to end the game, however, not yet, and so he danced around her once again, his arms wide open and tempting her to make him “it”.

“What are you doing?” Her gaze followed him as he swam easily around her.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tugged at one of her curls.

“Stop that,” she ordered sharply. Nonetheless, she was giggling.

He repeated the action.

“Oh, this is not fair. You are bigger than I am and your arms are longer.” She leaped toward him suddenly. He backed away, just in time, his arms still open as he treaded water, offering her a clear target.

She laughed, and he joined in with her.

And so it was that the morning hours wore on. Back and forth they played, Red Hawk allowing the beautiful water spirit to win the game of tag. But never more than he.

“Oh, you are too much for me.” She smiled up at him. “Unfortunately, I must pronounce you the winner, though I think you have a terrible advantage over me.” As if to compensate for the inequality, she reached down in the water and pulled off each of her shoes in turn. “Why did I not think of this before now? These awful pantalettes I am wearing get in my way and my boots drag me down, while you have only your breechcloth to restrict you. No wonder you are able to taunt me.”

Taking aim, she threw first one boot at the shoreline, and then the other. Her hurl wasn’t accurate, and one by one, each shoe fell short of the shore, plopping into the water, the hard leather causing them to sink swiftly. At once gallant, Red Hawk propelled himself forward, capturing one shoe, then the other.

She followed, wading right up to him, where she extended her hand, asking for the boots. Slowly he presented the shoes to their owner, his hand lingering over the last boot before dropping his arm to his side.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. Smiling, she held her shoes against her breast and pointed to herself. “Effie. Can you say that? Effie.” Again she indicated herself.

“Eh-h-h—eee,” he repeated.

She nodded. “Close enough. And you are?” She pointed toward him.

Words and gestures aside, he knew instinctively what she asked, but it was beyond his means to tell her what she desired. Somewhat alarmed—for an Indian would never ask another his name—Red Hawk tried to justify her action. She was not from here, he decided. She might not know the protocols of his polite society.

For one, a man never spoke his name aloud. Not only was it a taboo, it was also considered boastful, for names often told of great deeds.

Also, Red Hawk was reluctant to willingly utter the name that the others in the Clan called him. His name was Red Hawk, not Poor Orphan. Even if she wouldn’t understand the words, he could not bring himself to say them.

He gazed away from her, prompting her to try again. Pointing to him, she said, “And you are?”

This time Red Hawk shrugged, and turning away, presented her with his back as he swam toward the middle of the pond. There he waited, motioning her forward, asking her with signs to continue their game.

She shook her head. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name? After we have spent such a remarkable morning together? What am I to call you?”

Red Hawk feigned misunderstanding, saying nothing.

“Oh, very well,” she uttered, clearly exasperated. “It’s not very much to ask, though, is it? I’d just like to know what to say if I’m to address you. Will you be here tomorrow?”

Again, he remained silent, not understanding her words, though he did try to get her to join him once more in the center of the pool.

She shook her head. Spinning away from him, she began to wade closer to the shoreline. “I can’t. Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not because you won’t tell me your name or anything, but my parents might become concerned if I am gone too long. Already I’ve been here a few hours, and so I must return to them. I have enjoyed your company, though.” With a grin that was half apology, she turned to leave the water.

A feeling of loss swept over Red Hawk, and he swam toward her, following her. Coming up behind her, he touched her gently on the shoulder to get her attention, then taking hold of her hand, he guided it to his shoulder, where he allowed her to “tag” him.

Averting his gaze, Red Hawk started to draw back from her, but she held on to him tightly. Curious, his glance met hers, became lost in hers.

“I have enjoyed my morning swim with you,” she said earnestly, the honest appeal in her eyes intriguing. At last, she let go of him, and reaching her hands up behind her neck, she unfastened the necklace she wore—one made of a gold-colored substance. After placing the necklace in her small hand, she extended the jewelry toward him.

“Take it,” she said, when Red Hawk didn’t immediately stretch out his hand to capture it. “Take it,” she repeated, motioning toward it and then to him.

At length, he nodded and grasped hold of the prize.

“There,” she said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

But he didn’t understand her meaning as the words were not easily discerned.

Looking down at himself, as he stood before her in only his breechcloth, he searched his body for a gift he might give her.

But what? There was little that he owned.

Time seemed short as he pondered the problem, and he had almost given up the idea altogether, when he remembered…his earrings. The white shell earrings he wore were of some value.

Once they had been his mother’s. Now they would be hers.

After unfastening them, he placed two white shells in his palm and extended his hand toward her.

“For me?” she said, and he nodded.

Her tiny fingers slid over his palm as she drew near to take the prize. Red Hawk was amazed that a simple touch should make him feel as if he were suddenly falling through space.

“I don’t know why I should say this to you,” she said, “for I know that you cannot understand me—and perhaps that is why I feel I must say this—but I think I have fallen in love with you.” Her hand briefly clasped his.

And then it was over. She turned away and hurried off in a direction opposite to that of his camp. She was almost out of sight when she stopped still and spun back around.

Running toward him, she came right up to him and said, “I almost forgot.” Standing on the tips of her toes, she brought her face up to his, where she placed a kiss on his cheek. She giggled. “I hope to see you here tomorrow.” Flashing him one last grin, she fled.

She didn’t look back, and maybe it was good she hadn’t. For, in response to that kiss, slight though it was, Red Hawk had taken a few quick steps toward her as if to reciprocate, when suddenly he became so uncoordinated he tripped over himself.

Once again, the earth cushioned his fall. Once again, he lay flat on his fanny.

Though she had not spared Red Hawk a final glance, he watched her, looking at the place where she had disappeared for a long time, as though her impression still remained there.

Otahkohsoa’ tsis, Red Hawk,” he said to the air, as if it might carry his words to her. “Red Hawk is my name.”

Mastering Justice

Mastering Justice Kindle

Warning: Contains explicit sexual description and BDSM. Strictly for 18+

Moses Jordan is a part African American, Billionaire Computer Geek.

He is also in charge, her Dom. Imogen Walters is a tall, leggy blonde who practices law.

She is his property, his Sub.

They share a fifth floor luxury apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour.

She drives a Mercedes, he drives a Ferrari.

She practices law with confidence and is in command, until she steps through the door of their home. He has vowed to never release her.

Does she want to be freed?



Imogen glanced across the courtroom. He was seated in the public gallery. Muscles bunched under his shirt, his long black hair hung down to his shoulders and his chocolate brown eyes locked with hers. Warmth pooled in her pussy, she found it difficult to concentrate knowing his hungry gaze was watching her every move.

Moses tilted his lips into a grin, he had noticed Imogen squirming uncomfortably when she had first noticed him. The beautiful, tall, leggy blonde rose from her chair, turned her back and began fiddling with papers. He knew he was being unfair. This was an important trial for his sub. It involved the Mayor’s son and could make or break her brilliant career.

Imogen breathed deeply. She couldn’t let her clients down by being distracted. I will talk to Moses tonight. I can’t have him attending this trial and distracting me.

“Please rise for the Honourable Judge Dalton O’Malley,” a voice from the front of the courtroom announced.

Imogen came to attention and when she dared to take a quick peek in the direction of the gallery, she noticed Moses had left. She breathed deep with relief. 

Moses strolled outside into the bright sunshine. He had done what he had come to do, unnerve his sub. She needed to be kept informed of who was in charge at all times. He smiled to himself as he headed for his favourite café at Circular Quay.

He would enjoy a latté while he drank in the first warmth of summer and made plans for tonight. She would pay for daring to turn her back on him.

He weaved his way down George Street, smiling at several women and girls as he went. He was well aware his physique attracted interest but he had the only woman he wanted.Maybe she could come home and find another woman in the apartment? That would remind her that I am in charge and it would punish her for turning her back on me. 

Moses dismissed the thought of another female. It would devastate Imogen and, although she had to be disciplined, he would never be cruel.

He entered the café on the waterfront and was immediately shown to a table overlooking the harbour. The view was magnificent as water sparkled in the sunlight and vessels of every shape, colour and size floated in all directions. Moses was content. He picked up the daily paper which had been placed down with his latté and began reading.

He would not pick Imogen up from the trial as planned. He would meet her at home and put his plan into action.

Previously Master Of Law

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PG13 Excerpt from Pack of Lies by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #romance #thriller #werewolves #shifter

Hi everyone,

I’m back for the second day of Spookapalooza, and this time I’m sharing a PG13 excerpt (there’s bad language but no sex) from Pack of Lies, my paranormal romance thriller novel – ideal for curling up on the sofa and getting your teeth into this Halloween.

I’d also like to invite you to an event which is taking place on the 31st October on Facebook. Join the Shivers and Tingles party for spicy Halloween fun, prizes and much more!


pack-of-liesThey ate and played various card games until they felt the familiar tingles across their skin that indicated the sun had gone down and the moon was coming up. As one, they gathered up all the litter and stuffed it back into the bag along with the cards and the lamp. Then Matthew retrieved two large waterproof sacks from the side pocket of the bag. Holding one open, he waited for Isaac to strip and drop his clothes and shoes into the backpack, then they swapped places. Finally they shoved the bulging pack into a crack up near the ceiling of the cavern. They had their routine down to a fine art, and they’d never yet ended up having to walk to the village the following morning with torn clothes. Or worse, none at all. That would be difficult to explain to those not in on the secret.

“You wanna go deeper into the caves?” Matthew asked. “Up into Eyam Passage?”

Isaac shook his head. “No, we’ll be fine here. I reckon if they were coming, they’d have turned up by now. And if they do, surely they won’t be idiotic enough to come in?”

“Probably not. Okay, here it is then.”

Then all they could do was wait. They had the power to initiate the change earlier, but there was no point. It was easier to wait until the moon forced them to, making the entire transition faster and much less painful.

“Okay,” Matthew said, after what felt like forever. “Here we go. See you on the other side, brother.”

Isaac nodded, and after a beat an invisible force made them drop simultaneously to the ground, their hands and knees crashing onto the unforgiving rock floor. But that was the least of their worries. Small fry compared to the agony they experienced as their bones began realigning, their muscles and tendons stretching, popping, tearing, skin stretching and sprouting hair.

Matthew wished, and not for the first time, that their human consciousness was not involved in the change. Because everything they felt, experienced as they morphed from man to wolf, was imprinted into their memories forever, and of course made them dread each and every time they changed. The pain and discomfort never got any less. The only saving grace was that the process had grown quicker over the centuries, so their agony was that much briefer.

Before long Matthew was aware he was no longer a man. He looked over at his brother, now totally unrecognizable as the tall, handsome doctor he’d been just a few minutes ago. Glancing down at his own huge, hairy paws with their long, scary-looking claws, Matthew remembered the other side of the argument. Yes, they had to endure and remember the pain they went through as they transformed, but as that consciousness remained throughout, it meant they knew exactly what they did when they were wolves and could control themselves.

Not that there was anything to control down in the caves. There was no temptation of any kind, unless you liked the taste of bats, spiders or insects. Both brothers had tried bats before, catching the darting winged creatures in strong, long-toothed jaws for entertainment value, but they’d agreed the next day that they weren’t worth the bother. They were so small and irrelevant to their huge wolves that they took more energy to catch than they provided.

And so, once they’d gone through the transformation, a night in the Stoney Middleton caves proved pretty dull. It was a means to an end, a way to let their wolves roam free without endangering anyone or risking the exposure of their secret. It was certainly better than being locked in cages. They loped around the areas of the cavern that were large enough and occasionally crawled along some of the side passages just for something to do. Neither of them found it easy to sleep in wolf form, as there was so much raw energy, so much adrenaline coursing through their veins. In a way, changing on Eyam Moor had been better because there had been room to run around, burn off some of that energy. But that wasn’t an option—especially not now.

Though they’d said they weren’t going to head deeper into the cave system, Matthew turned tail—literally—and headed across the Oyster Cavern and into Eyam Passage. He was bored, and they’d already been down there for hours—if he didn’t do something, he was going to go crazy. Continuing through foot after foot of dark, damp tunnel, he passed a turn off on the left that he knew was a dead end. He was roughly underneath the electricity substation by the side of the Eyam road by now, and he kept going. Now he was beneath the road, now the woods on the other side of it.

There was an old mine shaft that opened up in Eyam Dale, and he made for it. He had no intention of attempting to get out of it—it would be impossible in any case, even more difficult than trying to get back out of the Gin entrance in his wolf form. All he wanted was a change of scenery, an excuse to stretch his legs and something to occupy his mind.

Just then he got it. A loud scuffle from above, the sound of rocks clattering against one another, against the ground, and some swearing. A man’s voice. Christ, Tom and his gang hadn’t seriously decided to come and check on them after all, had they?

“Oi, watch it!”

If he’d been in human form, Matthew would have slapped a palm to his forehead. They had. They fucking well had. Morons. The voice he’d heard belonged to Carl Lamb, and he was certain that Tom Dunwell and John Rayne were with him. The real question was, why were they trying to get down the shaft at Eyam Dale rather than going in via the Gin entrance?

There was no accounting for lunacy, so Matthew did the only thing he could think of—he took off in the opposite direction, moving as quietly as possible. He couldn’t speak, but he could communicate with his brother enough to make him understand that they had to hide. It was going against what the men were trying to prove, of course, that he and Isaac were in the caves, but he couldn’t risk anything happening. An injured or dead man—much less three of them—would be a hundred times worse than a dead sheep. A million times.

Reaching the cavern where he’d left his brother, Matthew saw he was still there. Padding straight over to him, he bashed against him, hard. Isaac growled, baring his teeth. Ignoring that, Matthew butted his brother again and again, trying to make him understand that he had to move, had to get out of sight. If the humans couldn’t find them, they couldn’t wind them up.

Isaac stood his ground, still making the aggressive sound deep in his throat.

Christ, Matthew thought, what the fuck am I going to do? He couldn’t leave Isaac where he was, with three moronic humans on their way down. All hell could break loose.


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Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

Greek Affair/Guardian Cop – Over 18+

Warning: These books contain graphic sexual description, BDSM, M/M and explicit language. Strictly for 18+

GREEK AFFAIR Prequel to Guardian Cop

Greek Affair 2 KindleAdrastos ‘Addie’ Papadakos is a Criminal. He arranges gun and drug deals with Russia and Niger. He is the product of a rape and to provide for her son, his mother is forced to become a whore. He grew up in a brothel where he learns about sex at the tender age of thirteen. He hates women.

Mario Anastopolous is a successful Banking Executive. He has just come out of a relationship where he hadn’t been satisfied.

When Addie ventures into a Gay Men’s Club in Athens, he meets Mario. Both had been on the lookout for a lover. Their attraction is instant.

Addie is domineering, in charge. Mario is meek, submissive.

When Mario accepts the invitation to go home with Addie, he doesn’t realize just how good his life is about to become. Following a night of spanking, sex, pain and pleasure, Addie makes Mario an offer that is too good to refuse. Mario gives up everything to be with this man who can provide him with the sexual variety he craves.

For the first time in his life, Addie has genuine feelings for someone else.


Addie ordered a whiskey and dry, the barman slid it in front of him. He swiveled his bar stool to scan the room of the busy gay men’s club. The club was reputed to be the best of its type and was situated in the center of Athens, a short walk from Addie’s luxury townhouse. It was the first time he had come here, preferring until now to date women. At 22 years old he had made the decision to ‘come out’. He hadn’t been able to find satisfaction with a woman since having a man two years ago. He had finally admitted to himself he was gay and now he was on the prowl for a lover.

Several men gyrated to the beat of Turn The Beat Around by Gloria Estefan which blared from oversized speakers throughout the large area. He watched as couples pushed their hips against each other, cocks brushing together. At the same time they exchanged long kisses, arms waved in the air. Addie found it erotic. His mouth watered.

“Scotch and Coke, Mike.” A deep voice rumbled beside him and Addie swung the stool towards the owner of the sensual voice. Mike slid the scotch and coke over and the man sipped at the liquid before extending his hand towards Addie. “Mario. I haven’t seen you here before.”

Addie perused the man standing in front of him. He was not tall, probably a good six inches shorter than his own six feet two inches. He had an unruly mop of black hair and a dark five o’clock shadow. His body was not that of an athlete but reasonably toned, maybe a fraction overweight. The thing that struck him the most were his eyes. Small but piercing, jet black like pure onyx. He was drawn to them as if they were magnets. “Addie,” he extended his hand and they shook. Firm grasp for a gay man. “My first time.”

Mario climbed onto the stool next to him. “Alone?”

“Yes, you?”

“Yes, just out of a relationship. You just coming out?”

“Yes. Tried women. Didn’t work.”

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Guardian Cop KindleAdrastos ‘Addie’ Papadakos is a Greek Drug Lord, his cartel is running Cocaine all over Europe and he is about to flood Sydney with the deadly drug.

He considers Bethany Holt his property and she has been trapped in his world of illicit drugs and dominant sex for over six months. She rues the day she consented to move in to his palatial home.

Addie’s best friend, and long-time lover from Greece, arrives at the house and when Bethany overhears them plotting a murder, her life changes dramatically.

When she is found beaten, bloody and close to death in a back alley of Kings Cross, Detective Tanner McMahon and his partner, Kylie Wilson are called in on her case.

Will Tanner be able to protect her from the powerful drug lord?

Will she submit to Tanner’s dominant sex play?


“This was called in as a fatality, this girl is still breathing.” The Paramedic unwound a face mask and attached the cord to oxygen before placing it over Bethany’s face. He then pressed a stethoscope to her chest and listened. “Her breathing is shallow but her heartbeat is steady. I think it looks worse than it is.”

The two trained medics carried on with their procedure. While one opened a vein, inserted a drip tube and began saline flowing, the other rolled her carefully on to her back and began checking her injuries.

Bethany thought her head would explode when the man pressed on her broken cheekbone. She let out a scream and everyone jumped back.

When the shock had subsided, the ambo, called John took her hand. “Sweetheart, my name is John. I’m from the ambulance service. We are taking care of you before we take you to hospital. Can you tell me your name?”

“B..Beth,” she whispered.

“Beth?” John asked.

She swallowed hard, the tinny taste of blood flooded her throat, almost gagging her. “Bethany.”

“Bethany, can you open your eyes?” The others watched on, Tanner took notes, while John spoke with the victim.

Her eyes flickered open and locked on Tanner’s face. They were deep brown, like chocolate, and, despite the bruising and swelling, he could see they were huge, fawnlike. He could also see the terror that lay within. What is she afraid of? His cock twitched as he smiled down at her.

John and his partner finished checking the girl before John stood and drew Tanner aside.

“She has a broken cheekbone, broken ribs on both sides, we will know more when she is x-rayed, a broken wrist and numerous contusions all over her body. I would say she has seen several fists to the face and then been kicked repeatedly. She said no one can know she is alive or she will be killed. Not sure what she means but if that is all, we will get her down to St Vincents.”

Tanner pondered the strange statement. He would instruct the others to claim she was dead until they found out what was going on. Kings Cross was well known for seedy characters, this could be tied up with some cartel or mob and she certainly could be at risk. “Thanks John. Take her down. Kylie and I will get Harry’s statement and meet you there.”

Bethany cried out with pain as the two Paramedics lifted her onto the gurney and prepared her for transport to hospital.

“I know it hurts, sweetheart but we can’t give you any more painkillers until they assess you. You may need surgery so we have to be careful.” John rubbed his hand over hers in reassurance.

Mercifully, Bethany passed out and was unaware of her transfer to hospital.

Previously Loving Bethany

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Sphinx Awakened Excerpt By Christine Murphy

SphinxAwakened_FINAL_laceySphinx Awakened by Christine Murphy – The fifth book in The Sphinx Warriors Series.

Summary: In one dark bloody evening of violence, Lily’s world was destroyed as her parents were murdered by The Foundary and her twin sister Skye disappeared into the depths of the night barely escaping the same fate. Since then, Lily has spent the majority of her youth as a human research subject drugged and hooked to monitoring devices until one fateful night when she is rescued by the Sphinx and brought to Complex 46. Trapped in a coma, the only thing Lily can do is reach out with her unique skills for help and finds the unexpected presence of a mind that is both powerful and intriguing. Once he touches Lily, both mind and body, Hunter and his inner Sphinx are lost to the influence of her grace and beauty. Using everything within his Powers, he will Join with her in the oldest of ceremonies saving both of them and awakening abilities in his Power Mate even the Wraith can’t win against.


Tentatively Lily placed her palms against Hunters chest. Under her fingertips she felt his quick indrawn breath and the rapid pounding of his heart. His muscles even twitched against her as if bolts of energy transferred from her to him. Fascinated with the feel of him she smoothed her hands over his chest and over to his arms sliding over the material of his black shirt until her hands made contact with his skin. He was so incredibly warm and she imagined fine velvet wrapped over hard steel when she smoothed her hands down his forearms. She wondered what the rest of him felt like and had the strongest desire to pull his shirt up and tunnel underneath to feel the hard muscles of his stomach. Not quite ready for that much adventure, she returned her exploration to his chest but couldn’t resist sliding her hands down until his firmly muscled stomach was under her palms but still covered by his shirt.

Hunter moaned and grabbed her wrists. “Careful, Lily. My inner beast is prowling and you’re not ready for that kind of adventure yet.”

Feeling challenged she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. Even though she was exhausted, the feel of him and the sensations coming from Hunter through their connection was making her braver than she would be normally. “How do you know I’m not ready Hunter? I’ve been waiting for someone to make me whole forever. I want to feel more with you. I want you to be even closer to me Hunter.”

The rush of energy which came from Hunter was incredible surrounding both him and her. One moment everything was normal and the next his Life Power exploded from him in shimmering swirls. The energy settled on her making her skin tingle deliciously. She wanted more so pulled at Hunter’s entrapping hands to get closer to him. Obliging her, he let go of her wrists and cupped her face in his slightly shaking hands. Hunter was holding back but Lily didn’t want him to.

Perhaps he felt what she wanted because he leaned down and kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers the world ceased to exist and her entire being was drawn into Hunter. Only the two of them existed. He teased, he tantalized, and he knew just exactly what to do to make her want more. He softly kissed her but within moments the kiss became more demanding. Hunter nipped at her and then ran his tongue along the seam of her lips. She had never been kissed before but knew what he wanted and opened for him. Rewarding her, he delved inside and stroked his talented tongue along hers.

Lily didn’t ever want the kiss to end but Hunter pulled back and inhaled deeply as if trying to get control before he thickly he said, “Great Ancients, Lily. You tempt me, but we need to take this slow. Have mercy on this Warrior. You may be innocent but I do believe you have a temptress in there.”

Secretly she smiled to herself as she leaned against him. Lily was tired of slow and of being denied all the wonderful things she had every intention of experiencing now. She knew Hunter was concerned for her well being and his need to protect her even extended to keeping himself in check. He would never hurt her and she knew this without one ounce of doubt. She was finally complete and totally safe and cherished by someone.

Christine Murphy –

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