Primal Obsession by Susan Vaughan ~ Get it with Killer Romances!

918L-c6maoL._SL1500_Primal Obsession by Susan Vaughan ~ Get it with Killer Romances!

You’ll see me, but you won’t know me.

Guiding a canoe party through the Maine wilderness is more than just a job for former Major-Leaguer Sam Kincaid. After hitting rock-bottom, he needs to prove he can pull himself out of the bottle and succeed at something. He can’t let himself be distracted by an ambitious, obsessed female, even if she’s sexy, witty and smart.

Investigative journalist and confirmed urbanite Annie Wylde embarks on the canoe trip to keep a promise to her murdered friend. She intends to use the outing to study her notes on the notorious killer called the Hunter. She banters with Sam but rebuffs his advances, considering him just another egotistical jock.

But when Annie realizes the killer has followed her into the woods, she learns there’s more to Sam than testosterone and dimples. And Sam faces the challenge of his life to keep Annie safe and defeat the Hunter.

Get it for 99 cents with 9 other fabulous stories in Killer Romances!

The Spirit of the Wolf by Karen Kay – NEW!

the-spirit-of-the-wolfThe Spirit of the Wolf by Karen Kay
The Lost Clan, Book 2
Samhain Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-61922-099-7
July, 2014
Historical Romance

The end of a curse hides behind a riddle—and the final clue in the heart of a woman.

Grey Coyote stands on the knife edge of desperation. An ancient curse dooms his people to a half-life in the mists, neither living nor dead—unless he can solve a deceptively simple riddle. As time runs short, he’s sure the answer lies in beating a white trapper in a game of chance.

Among the trapper’s possessions, though, is a prize he never expected. A golden-haired woman as beautiful, delicate and stubborn as a prairie rose.

One moment Marietta Welsford is wondering how long it will take her hired guide to finish his game so she can hurry home to Rosemead, the English estate to which she hopes to lay claim. The next, she is abandoned with a man whose magnetism tugs at her body and soul, and makes her heart out-thunder the storm.

With so little time to lift the enchantment, Grey Coyote at first views Marietta as a trickster-sent distraction. But as sure as the star that guides him, it soon becomes clear she is the clue that could ultimately free his people…and capture his heart.

Buy it today!

Samhain Publishing

McFarland’s Farm ~ Brand new romance from Cardeno C.!

mcfarlandsfarmMcFarland’s Farm ~ Brand new romance from Cardeno C.!

Wealthy, attractive Lucas Reika treats life like a party, moving from bar to bar and man to man. Thumbing his nose at his restaurateur father’s demand that he earn his keep, Lucas instead seduces a valued employee in the kitchen of their flagship restaurant, earning himself an ultimatum: lose access to his father’s money or stay in the middle of nowhere with a man he has secretly lusted over from afar.

Quiet, hard-working Jared McFarland loves his farm on the outskirts of Hope, Arizona, but he aches to have someone to come home to at the end of the day. Jared agrees to take in his longtime crush as a favor. But when Lucas invades his heart in addition to his space, Jared has to decide how much of himself he’s willing to risk and figure out if he can offer Lucas enough to keep him after his father’s punishment is over.

Buy it today!


All Romance Ebooks


Beer & Clay: Malting by Sean Michael

I just recently received a lovely review from Long and Short Reviews for Malting and it made me want to cheer for the book. I’m currently working on the follow-up and expect it to be out in spring 2015.

Sometimes unpredictable is exactly what’s needed, but can Corner Pub owner Damon convince shy Thursday night regular Toby of that?

Damon loves his life—his bar, his employees and his beer. He especially loves Thursdays. That’s when the mysterious little red-head dances into his bar, drinks two honey wheat brews, and flits right back out.

Toby’s comfortable. He has a good job, great friends, and he gets paid to do what he loves—sculpt. His life is great, if a little predictable. And if he secretly wears a plug to Corner Pub every Thursday, well…that’s nobody’s business but his.

But when Toby meets Damon, his predictable little life flies right out the window. Damon shows him the big, wide world of the Dom/sub lifestyle, plugs and piercings, and teaches him that maybe, unpredictable is exactly what Toby needed all along.

Pick up Malting at Totally Bound, Amazon or All Romance Ebooks.


Sean Michael

smut fixes everything –


Killer Romances: 10 Dark, Deadly & Delicious Suspense Novels

KillerRomances_3DKiller Romances: 10 Dark, Deadly & Delicious Suspense Novels

10 Dark, Deadly and Delicious Novels from some of today’s hottest romantic suspense authors. On sale for a limited time for only $0.99. Romance, mystery and danger abound with these tales of lethally sexy heroes and the women who bring them to their knees.

Revenge (Blood and Honor, #1) by Dana Delamar ~ Mafia don Enrico Lucchesi struggles to preserve a fragile truce with the Andretti family. But when Kate Andretti flees from her abusive husband, Enrico won’t leave her in jeopardy. Can he save her without reigniting the bloody feud between the families? **Double-finalist in the 2013 Booksellers’ Best Awards!**

Cliffs of Starsdale by Bestselling author Tallulah Grace ~ Starsdale, California offers a picturesque setting with a small-town atmosphere. It’s hard to believe anything bad could happen in such an idyllic place, but Chelsea Bates finds that evil lurks beneath the surface of someone she trusted, someone she loved. Even in Starsdale, life is not always what it seems.

Deadly Misconceptions an award winning story by Amazon and Barnes & Noble bestselling author Sandy Loyd ~ When former runaway Lucy Maddox’s mentor goes missing, the PI risks everything to find her. She’s even willing to team up with nemesis Jack Finnegan, who’s only out to prove his boss isn’t responsible for the disappearance. Their chase to solve the mystery quickly becomes a struggle to stay alive.

Shadow of Perception (Book #2, Core Shadow Trilogy) by Kristine Mason ~ After a reporter receives threatening, gruesome DVDs, she turns to the criminal investigation agency CORE for help. Only her former lover is assigned the case. Now they find themselves not only knee-deep in a twisted investigation, but forced to deal with their past and the love they’d tried to deny.

Haunted by Death (By Death Series #2) by USA Today Bestselling author Dale Mayer ~ Anthropologist Meg Pearce’s life hasn’t been the same since her friend disappeared seventeen years ago. She lost everything then including Detective Chad Ingram. Now he’s back and together they are looking to solve the mystery. Only death isn’t done shaking up their lives … and this time they are in the crossfire.

Blind Her With Bliss (Dangerous Affairs Series #1) by USA Today Bestselling author Nina Pierce ~ Investigating the death of her best friend, uptight accountant, JULIE TILLING, discovers a world of adult nightclubs and Internet intrigue. When shock jock DAMON COREY rocks her world in a wild night of lust, she wonders if she’s found love…or the key to solving a murder.

Love & Deception (Agents in Love #1) by Chantel Rhondeau ~ Secret Agent Nick Kendall is infiltrating a suspected terrorist organization. The problem? He’s falling hopelessly in love with Carlie Hollis, a key player of the group. Soon he receives new orders-kill the target. Will he follow those orders…or become hunted himself?

The Last Witness by Amazon Bestselling author K.T. Roberts ~ NYPD detectives Tate Kensington and Zachary Gerard are convinced one killer is at work, but proving it seems an impossible feat until a pre-teen prank blows the case wide open. Can the pair put away a killer on a paper-thin case? Or will their disappearing Jane Doe prove to be…THE LAST WITNESS…

Shrouded in Darkness (Shrouded in Darkness #1) by Multi-award winning author H. D. Thomson ~ If Jake Preston doesn’t stumble upon a miracle, he’ll end up dead. And even if he does, he still might end up dead with a clever killer hounding his heels. He believes the key to reversing an experiment that is killing him is locked away in Margot Davenport’s home.

Primal Obsession by Award-winning author Susan Vaughan ~ Reporter Annie Wylde and former Major Leaguer turned Maine Guide Sam Kincaid play cat and mouse with a killer on a wilderness canoe expedition. Chemistry sizzles, but lifestyles and baggage short circuit attraction. To defeat their enemy, they must work together and borrow from each other’s strengths. ** Winner More Than Magic Award **

Read more about it!

The Angel and the Warrior by Karen Kay

AngelAndTheWarrior-The72lgThe Angel and the Warrior by Karen Kay

A hunted woman, a forbidden love…and time ticking down on an ancient curse.

The Lost Clan, Book 1

Eighteen years ago, Swift Hawk was sent to the earthly realm to try to break an enchantment that curses his clan to a half-life in the mists. As his allotted time runs short, a vision gives him a glimpse of his last chance to free his people. A delicate young woman with translucent white skin and star-like hair.

He never thought his sacred vision would possess the tongue of a shrew.

Angelia Honeywell and her brother Julian fled Mississippi amid a hail of rotten tomatoes and flying bullets. She only fired back in self-defense, but now they are on the run as their father pleads their case to the governor.

With Julian trying to pass himself off as a wagon train scout, Angel knows they need help. When the handsome, black-eyed Swift Hawk agrees to save their skins, she can’t help but be drawn to his compelling gaze. But as they come together in a blaze of desire, the dark shadows of the curse descend, threatening to divide them forever.

Buy it today!

Samhain Publishing



Copyright © 2014 Karen Kay
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Chapter One

The Northwestern Plains of North America, 1816

The wet, clinging mists of early morning began to lift from the land, leaving the short, tanned prairie grasses glistening under the sun’s pale dawn rays. Higher up, on the bluffs and mountains overlooking this vast Western panorama, the dawn’s silver haze clung fast to every jutting rock. Sweeping downward from these lofty heights, the landscape assumed a gentler approach, the soft slopes gradually declining until the land leveled into a beautiful valley. On the descent, a few boulders projected up from the earth, each in a haphazard fashion, as though in some prehistoric age, the gods, much enraged, had hurled these immense stones at each other, perhaps in some long-forgotten battle.

It was here, upon this grand stretch of land, that the great Missouri River flowed, its fast currents and spinning eddies cutting through the endless grasslands as easily as if it had been formed by some giant blade. On this early morning in July, eighteen hundred and sixteen, the dew and mists rose above the savage, muddy water of the Missouri, its swirling masses creating moisture that, ascending into the air, patterned a fog that partially hid what lay beneath—at least for the moment.

And so it was that as the dawn gave way to the day, an image began to take hold, there on the golden shores of the Missouri. Gradually, through the dissipating mist, an impression of an Indian village took shape. It was a village so grand, it might have extended over three-quarters of a mile, housing within its perimeters four hundred lodges or more, and harboring maybe two thousand souls.

As the haze dispersed, life commenced to stir within that camp—dogs awakened, women stoked fires, young boys bounded up from their sleep, tearing from their lodges to run with soft steps through the gilt-colored grasses. Easily they plunged into the cool depths of the soil-stained Missouri.

Here the youngsters were followed at a more leisurely pace by their fathers, who, like their sons, by habit were addicted to the cold, invigorating morning bath.

A little more coyly, young girls stepped from their lodges, taking their first strides toward the water, where each would fill her parfleche bag full of the life-giving liquid. Many of the girls glanced out toward the environment, each one wondering if perhaps she were being watched.

And of course this was so. A few smitten boys, having quickly finished their baths, lay in waiting, hiding, observing the girls’ trail, hoping, praying for a glimpse of the one who had captured his heart. Perhaps, if one of these youths possessed the courage, he might stand up and speak to the maiden of his dreams. But more than likely, each of these youths would simply lie there, holding himself back from acting—watching and dreaming.

Meanwhile, smoke was curling from the “ears” of the tepee flaps as the wives and older women bent over their lodge fires, preparing the morning meal. Outside, hungry dogs whined, teased by the aroma of the smoke and the mouth-watering scent of roasting buffalo meat. With canine impatience, the animals kept an ever-ready vigil, licking their chops, awaiting their chance to steal a morsel or two.

It was here within this village that Swift Hawk lived, a youth of barely ten winters, if one were to compare his age against the commonly held notions of time. Son of a chief, member of the Burnt Chest Band within his tribe, he held a short stick in his hand, brandishing it back and forth as, having finished his bath, he stepped back in the direction of his lodge.

“My son,” came the deep voice of his father from behind him. “Come. It is time.”

Time for what? Swift Hawk wondered, but the words never formed on his lips. Possessing the utmost respect for his elders and, in particular, for his father, Swift Hawk would have sooner cast himself from the tallest bluff than talk back to his father.

He gave his father a brief nod before following orders, and changing the direction of his path, he trod after his parent, worrying that he might have committed some act for which he was to be chastised. In vain he tried to remember some mischief he might have accomplished, but nothing came to mind.

At last his father halted outside the lodge of White Claw, their clan’s medicine man. And then the strangest thing occurred.

Without salutation, without even a scratch upon the tepee’s entry flap to warn of their approach, Swift Hawk’s father, War Shield, flung back the flap and stepped into the medicine lodge. Odder still was the observation that not one person who was seated within the lodge showed concern over this overt breach of Indian etiquette.

The familiar scents of burning sage and sweet grass met Swift Hawk’s senses, and at any other time, that aroma would have calmed him. But not today. Here was a sense of anticipation, one that hung heavily over the crowd of assembled guests.

Pacing upon the leathery buffalo rug that covered the ground, Swift Hawk sensed the firm earth beneath his moccasined feet, his body feeling light in comparison. It was good, this connection to the earth. He was a part of this land, a part of this community. The awareness of that potent affinity gave him strength.

Secretly, however, as he stepped slowly around the lodge’s circle, he studied each occupant, that he might be alert as to the reason for such a meeting.

He noted that three other youths, along with their fathers, sat within the council circle, no two youths being from the same tribal band. Four bands in total comprised Swift Hawk’s tribe, each band representing a group of families that lived together and hunted together when the tribe was not in full assembly.

Without emitting a single sound, Swift Hawk took his place beside his father, and sitting down as noiselessly as possible on the toughened buffalo rug, he prepared to listen.

At once, White Claw, the medicine man, nodded and produced a pipe, filling it with the sacred tobacco. The old medicine man lit the tobacco with a special stick from the fire, and as he did so, smoke coiled upward, toward the open tepee flap and onward, up to the heavens. Then this wise old man sent a prayer up to the sun, to the moon and to the four directions before he passed the pipe around the circle, although never was the pipe allowed to proceed across the entryway, as was custom.

Every person assembled there smoked, even each youngster. Although this might be the first time the youths had ever held a pipe to their lips, not one of them coughed or made a noise.

Finally, the formalities of council being dispensed with in the right way, White Claw nodded to each boy in turn. “This is a very important day,” he said, “for today you boys will become men.”

Pride filled Swift Hawk at these words, and though he cast his glance respectfully downward, he lifted his chin a little higher and sat up straighter.

“I am certain,” continued White Claw, “that you youngsters have questions you would like to ask: Why are you here? Why do we hold council before the day has reached its zenith? Why have you alone been called? But I would bid you to hold these questions within you for a few moments longer.”

The old man paused, and silence fell over the circle. But no one interrupted that quietness. After all, to the Indian way of thinking, such peace was sacred.

At length, the old medicine man continued. “And now I have a question to put to you boys, each one. What say you? Have you awakened today, after having gone to sleep yesterday?”

Each of the four youngsters nodded, though Swift Hawk wondered at these strange words. Of course they had all lain down to sleep the previous evening. He remembered it vividly.

“Ah,” said White Claw, “and so it would seem to you. But hear me now, it is time that you know the truth.”

The truth?

Haiya,” continued old White Claw. “It is time. But I go before myself. Let me start at the onset of the affair, that you might understand.” Looking sagely around the circle at these four youths, the old man began his story. “It started long ago, so far back that my memory can no longer recall the exact day.” He sighed.

“It began on a day as beautiful as this one. The Piksan, or the buffalo jump, had been successful. The people had run the buffalo over the cliff, our brothers, the buffalo, sacrificing themselves, that the people might endure. There was much happiness in the camp that day, and all were busy preparing the meat, giving feasts. There was much laughing, much joking, and…there was dancing, beautiful, graceful dancing.” Here, the old man drew a deep breath, pausing. Then, almost sadly, “Yes, it had been a good day. But, alas, in this world there is always someone who is not content. And so it was that a great evil was committed by the men of our tribe, an evil that was followed by a terrible storm. And so swiftly did the weather change that many innocents were caught out in the open.

“You have seen such storms, even to this day. Within the breath of a moment, winds bring black clouds that accumulate fast, a terrible cold comes upon us, and if one is not prepared, disaster may occur…as it did this day. I know. Though I was then but a young man, I was there…”


“My mother, come quickly to shelter,” said the young White Claw, holding out his hand to the woman. “Do not hesitate.”

“Yes, son. But in a moment. I will not lose these skins that I have been working over this day.”

As the wind kicked up, a breeze rocked White Claw and practically swept him from his feet. At the same time anxiety filled his soul. Had his mother not heard? Did she not know? Or did she, like others in the tribe, disbelieve the sacred signs? White Claw said, “Leave them, Mother. I fear this storm.”

“This storm?” Though middle-aged, White Claw’s mother, Blue Shawl Woman, was still a beautiful woman, and she raised a clenched fist toward the heavens, as though daring the weather to do its worst. She even laughed as a burst of wind swept her hair against her face, yet it almost tossed her forward. But Blue Shawl Woman held fast to her position. “I have seen many a storm worse than this.”

“Worse perhaps,” White Claw conceded, “but none so evil, I think. Do you see how black it has become? And so speedily?”

“The night is dark also, my son. Do you fear it too?”

It was a carefully spoken insult. White Claw cast his glance to the ground, swallowing noisily. He must be patient, he knew. His mother simply did not know that anger, danger, even great harm were in the air.

But he could sense it. And it was this that gave him a problem. How was he to convey this feeling of dread, this sense of urgency to his mother?

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, White Claw at last threw himself to the ground, and seeing the skins his mother worked over, he picked up one of them, that he might hurry the woman.

Blue Shawl Woman brushed him away. “Do you wish to humiliate me, that you would do my work for me?”

“Nay, Mother. But you must hurry.”

“Yes, son. I am.”

There was nothing else for it. White Claw came to his feet, though his movements were uneasy. So strong was the worry within him that he thought he might burst with it. “A large bird, and a very beautiful bird—one that no one could recognize—attempted to stop our hunters from slaughtering all the game within the herd of buffalo. Our men killed the bird.”

“Good,” said Blue Shawl Woman. “We need that buffalo meat, and if the bird was truly a large one, there will be even more food for the people.”

“Nay, Mother, it is not good. For the bird acted only after our hunters had killed many buffalo…perhaps too many buffalo.”

“There is no such thing as taking too much meat.”

“I disagree. Have not our wise men always said that there must be harmony, a balance in all things? And I think perhaps we were too greedy today.”

Blue Shawl Woman snorted.

“Perhaps it was a sacred bird that they slew,” suggested White Claw. “Maybe one of the Thunderer’s children.”

Blue Shawl Woman paused in her work, her glance at her son inquisitive. “Why do you say this?”

White Claw shrugged. “It is well known that the Thunderer can take the form of either bird or man.”

“Yes, but—”

“And are the skies not dark, though it is but the middle of the day?” He paused. “You have heard my uncle tell me often enough that before a hunter takes an arrow to a kill, he should be certain of what it is he seeks to bring down.”

“Yes, but, my son,” said Blue Shawl Woman, “the Thunderer? I ask you, did these hunters say a prayer over the dead carcass of this bird?”

White Claw nodded. “They did.”

Blue Shawl Woman breathed out a sigh. “Then there is no need for alarm. The hunters did right; the people must have sufficient food. They must eat.”

“Yes. Yet we had already killed more than two hundred buffalo. Had we not taken all the meat that our people could eat? Was it not enough to sustain us through the winter and well into the spring?”

“True, but having more than one believes he needs is not a bad thing. One can never be certain of the length of the winter snows.”

White Claw shook his head. “Nay. I disagree.”

Blue Shawl Woman would not be swayed, and she shrugged. “It is our right to take what is here to take, so long as we say the proper prayer. Do not the wolves feast on a juicy morsel of rabbit? Does not the mountain lion kill meat enough for her young? If we do not seize what is here to take, someone else, something else will. Better for our people that we have it.”

“Is it?” White Claw questioned. “Do you forget the teachings of our wise men? Is not overkill a sign of greed?”

Glancing up toward him, Blue Shawl Woman reached out to pat his hand and smiled gently. It was the same sort of gesture that White Claw had always cherished. She said, “You worry needlessly.”

Even as the words left her lips, the skies filled with rain—not the gentle downpour of a spring rain that blesses the earth, but rather a heavy, pounding torrent of impending winter. Though most of the people abandoned their projects to seek shelter, White Claw’s mother did not. Instead, she continued folding her skins, seeming to have time to spare.

“Please, I urge you to hurry.”

Blue Shawl Woman shook her head. “Go along and cease this worry.” She waved him away. “I will join you shortly.”

There was nothing else he could do without disobeying his mother, a thing no Indian youth would ever consider. So White Claw spun around, not to leave, as his mother urged, but rather to find his uncle, for the man could not be far away. Perhaps his uncle would lend support to White Claw’s plea.

He was gone but a moment. No more. But in that interval, a crack of thunder burst down upon the land; so loud it was, that White Claw felt a deep chasm split through him. His hands flew to his ears even as the ground shook all around him.

It was the Thunderer.

A foreboding filled him. And without looking, he knew…

It was the Thunderer…and his mother…

Stunned, fearing what he might discover if he looked behind him, White Claw turned slowly around, his movements, for all the youth and strength in his reflexes, seemed more dreamlike than real.

And that’s when he saw them.

His mother—though she was in a misty, spirit form—and the Thunderer.

Briefly, the image that was his mother turned to White Claw and, raising her hand, motioned him to stay away. And then they were gone, the Thunderer and his mother, leaving the shell of his mother’s body lying there upon the ground.


Emerging from a haze, White Claw rushed forward, toward his parent, and knelt beside her body. His stomach twisted painfully.

“Mother, come back!”

Shaking his head to clear it, White Claw took her lithe form into his arms, his fingers traveling over her face, her neck, her arms. As her flesh molded softly beneath his, he knew it was no use. He could feel no life within her.

She was gone. Stolen by the Thunderer.

The knowledge was almost more than he could bear. Unabashedly, tears gathered in his eyes. He glanced down, noticing that those skins his mother had been folding were strewn around her, their importance now insignificant.

Rising onto his feet and with his mother’s body held fast within his arms, White Claw turned around and paced toward their home.

Another crash of thunder sounded behind him, along with a shattering rumble in the ground. A scream followed. No! Had the Thunderer claimed someone else?

Though at some other time, White Claw might have experienced sympathy for another’s desperate plight, he felt no such thing. Haiya. Not now. Now, where in the breadth of his arms lay the woman he had loved deeply all his life, she who had given him life. “Mother,” he cried over her body, “come back. Please do not leave me.”

There was no answer.

A sob rose from White Claw’s throat, though he never let the sound escape his lips. Instead, quietly, he placed Blue Shawl Woman’s body over a soft buffalo robe, staring over her for a moment before raising his face toward the lodge’s entrance. He cried, “You! Thunderer! You are a scoundrel and a murderer. Hear me, now. For I swear I will have my revenge upon you.”

No reply was forthcoming save the clap of thunder and a pounding shake of the ground, this one causing yet another wail from a different part of the tribe.

Glancing down, White Claw spoke softly to his mother, as though she could hear him. “Why didn’t you come to the lodge when you could have?”

It was useless. Even if his mother had heeded his advice, would it have made a difference? In the end, if the Thunderer had truly wanted Blue Shawl Woman, would their meager lodge have kept the god away?

The tepee flap fell back, and White Claw’s uncle, Three Moons, entered. Briefly the man stared from White Claw to the woman, then back to White Claw.

“She is gone,” White Claw said simply. “My mother, your sister, has been taken by the Thunderer.”

At first this statement was met by confusion, but soon Three Moons bent over Blue Shawl Woman’s still body. Taking her hand in his, he held it to his face, eyes closed. After a moment, the elder man said, “This is, indeed, an evil day.”

White Claw nodded.

“My son, bear up, for I have worse news. She is not the only one to be stolen. Three other women are gone also. Their spirits have been taken by the Thunderer.”

Silence, long and eerie, met this revelation.

“But come,” voiced Three Moons at last, “let us go and avenge your mother’s death, and that of the other women of our tribe. Warriors are gathering in the center of our village that we might repel this god who comes to steal our own. Grab up your shield, my son; take up your spear, your bow and arrows, while I seek out your grandmother that she might attend to her daughter. Hurry, for our men are assembling.”

White Claw nodded.

Still, though his uncle had departed forthwith, White Claw paused. Laying his hand upon his mother’s breast, he vowed, “I will avenge you, Mother. Fear not.” A tear coursed down his cheek. “Fear not.”


Author Karen Kay

Author of seventeen American Indian Historical Romances, Karen Kay aka Gen Bailey, has been praised by reviewers and fans alike for bringing the Wild West alive for her readers.

Karen Kay, whose great-great grandmother was a Choctaw Indian, is honored to be able to write about something so dear to her heart, the American Indian culture.

“With the power of romance, I hope to bring about an awareness of the American Indian’s concept of honor, and what it meant to live as free men and free women. There are some things that should never be forgotten.”

Find Karen Kay online at

Windswept Danger – Sneak Preview #3

Windswept Danger by Terry OdellHere’s another excerpt from my upcoming release, Windswept Danger, Book 6 in my Blackthorne, Inc. action adventure romance series.
If you missed my earlier posts, you can find the first one here  the second one here, and the third one here.

You can also read the first chapter here.  Remember, if you leave a comment, you’re entered in a drawing to win a book.


In this scene, Olivia and Hotshot are trying to locate their target, Addison Willoughby, while pretending to be a wealthy adventurer who injured himself on his last trip, and his caregiver.


When Olivia had scraped the last crumb of the double-chocolate fudge cake from her plate and finished her coffee, she stood. “Mr. McAllister. It’s time for your evening walk.”

Hotshot’s brows lifted, but he wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose. “You’re sure I can handle a walk at this altitude? Wouldn’t want you to have to carry me to bed.”

So that was how he’d decided to play it. Snarky flirting. She went with her plan. Ignoring him.

“I’m sure there are plenty of strong healthy men who can handle that, should the need arise.” She motioned him to walk in front of her. “I need to assess your gait.”

“Not fair,” he muttered.

In the spacious lobby, another too-good-looking man stepped from behind a desk. “May I help you?”

“We’d like to take a walk outside,” Olivia said. “It’s part of Mr. McAllister’s therapy.”

He escorted them into the vestibule, and held the doors to the outside for them. “Doors are locked at nine,” he said. “If you need more time, there are treadmills in the fitness center, which is open twenty-four hours a day.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hotshot said. “My evening constitutional should take half an hour. Isn’t that right, Miss Fairchild? Early to bed keeps a man healthy.”

Olivia played her ignore card. “Let’s go, Mr. McAllister.”

The man stepped onto the porch with them. “Sunset’s at about eight-thirty. Nice clouds. Should be a good one.”

She stepped outside and took in the clouds the man had mentioned. A stiff breeze caught her hair. Windswept Heights was well-named.

Olivia stayed close to Hotshot as they navigated the brick steps down to the yard, as if making sure he didn’t lose his balance. He moved slowly, gingerly. For show or for real?

“You all right?” she asked.

“Yeah. A little stiff. All that sitting.”

When they got to ground level, she said, “Let’s walk along the driveway. It’s level footing.”

“I’ll bet we’ll be on camera there,” he said.

“So, we’re proving that we’re out for a stroll. Not trying to sneak around. Not raising any suspicions.” She paused. “Walk ahead of me for a minute. Stand up straight, arms swinging naturally at your sides.”

“Checking my gait or my ass?” he asked with a smirk.

“You’ll never know. Walk.”

“Ah, the humorless Miss Fairchild has been replaced by the fun-loving Miss Fairbanks.”

“I believe I said ‘walk.’”

“And Miss Fairchild returns.” Hotshot strode away for about ten paces, then turned and ambled back. “Do I pass?”

“You’re favoring your right side a little,” Olivia said.

“I am?” He looked surprised, as if he wasn’t sure they were in character or she’d spotted a problem he’d been unaware of.

“I’m sure it’s detectable only to the trained eye of your physical therapist. Go again.”

“Must be these shoes,” Hotshot said. “I’m usually wearing less fashionable, but more practical footwear.”


He did, and she noticed he’d slowed down, making an apparent effort to keep things even.

“Better?” he asked when he came back.

“Looks like your lower back.” She touched him above the waist, then moved her hands lower, feeling for tight muscles. Some of her own parts tightened. “You’ve wrapped your ribs? Why?”

He shrugged. “I’m supposed to be injured, right? Thought it would give me more credibility if anyone checked.”

Why did she think there was more to his story? “I can have a look later.”

Hotshot leaned into her fingertips. “I’m sure a hot shower will loosen it up. You could join me. Make sure I’m doing it right.”

“Let’s finish our walk, Mr. McAllister.” But she was going to check him out. If this turned into more than a recon operation, he’d have to be fully mobile. And now what was she thinking? This was an eyes-on operation, nothing more. She’d been listening to Hotshot, letting him plant ideas about things going sideways.

After about fifteen minutes of make-believe therapy, which wasn’t all that make-believe, Olivia directed Hotshot to a nearby lounge chair. “Sit back. Take off your shoes.”

“Ah, now we’re getting into the good stuff.” He waggled his brows.

“Mr. McAllister, I need to check your flexibility.” She cocked her head toward a pair of men approaching. Employees, she guessed from their dark denims and beige polo shirts peeking out from black windbreakers. Spies?

Hotshot caught her unspoken message and toed off his loafers. She took one calf—one well-muscled calf—in her hand and raised his leg to a right angle, then grasped his instep. “Press against me,” she said.

“Careful what you wish for.”

The men continued past them with a nod, then marched toward the wall.

“Guards,” Hotshot said. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re armed.”

She went through a couple more repetitions of leg presses. “Does this hurt?”

“No, ma’am,” Hotshot said. “But—”

“That’s quite enough, Mr. McAllister.” She lowered her voice, continuing with the leg presses. “So, what’s our plan now that we’ve seen the place?”

“Keep searching,” he said. “I’ll mingle with the guests, you snoop around the staff areas. Do you think Addison might be working here?”

“From her files, she didn’t strike me as the working type.”

“Don’t tell me you think any of the staff look like the working type. Babes and studs, every one of them.”

She laughed. “You noticed that, too?”

“Hard not to.”

“Did you get hit on?”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said.

“You shouldn’t have to handle anything. Say the word and I’ll speak to the manager.”

The two men had apparently completed their trip around the yard. They came closer. “It’s almost nine,” one said. “You’d better get inside.”

From the other side of the house, dogs barked. Not Daisy-sized barks, either. Big dogs, from the sound of it.


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McFarland’s Farm by Cardeno C. ~ Get it today!

mcfarlandsfarmMcFarland’s Farm by Cardeno C. 

Wealthy, attractive Lucas Reika treats life like a party, moving from bar to bar and man to man. Thumbing his nose at his restaurateur father’s demand that he earn his keep, Lucas instead seduces a valued employee in the kitchen of their flagship restaurant, earning himself an ultimatum: lose access to his father’s money or stay in the middle of nowhere with a man he has secretly lusted over from afar.

Quiet, hard-working Jared McFarland loves his farm on the outskirts of Hope, Arizona, but he aches to have someone to come home to at the end of the day. Jared agrees to take in his longtime crush as a favor. But when Lucas invades his heart in addition to his space, Jared has to decide how much of himself he’s willing to risk and figure out if he can offer Lucas enough to keep him after his father’s punishment is over.

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My Fiction Nook ~ 4 Stars

This was so insanely cute, I can barely stand it. … and contains lots of feels, steam, and wicked fun.

We Like it Big Book Blog ~ 4 Stars

The way they came together was nice. The sex they had was hot. They were like night & day…The saying opposites attract… and I would say that totally applies to Jared and Lucas… It worked. They made a cute couple.

HEA Bookshelf ~ 4.5 Stars

I absolutely loved Jared and Lucas!!! If you’re in the mood for a short, loving, and hot romance, one-click McFarland’s Farm.

Queer Town Abbey

This is a charming piece of romance …What I like about this story is that it is a realistic tale. …we are reminded that happiness belongs to us….A great read! … a quick, heart-warming tale that will make you want to fall in love all over again.



Chapter 1

“Jared, it’s me.”

Jared McFarland sighed and moved his gaze away from the jumbled numbers on the screen to the answering machine on the other side of his desk.

“I know you’re there. Pick up the phone.”

Susan couldn’t know he was there. She lived in Phoenix, and he lived a hundred twenty-five miles west in Hope, Arizona.

“The reason I know you’re there is you never leave your property and it’s nine o’clock at night, which means there’s not enough light for you to be working outside.”

Susan’s ability to read his mind terrified him.

“Plus, I know you’re on your computer.”

Lucky guess.

“And the reason I know you’re on your computer is last time I visited, I uploaded a program that tracks everything you do on there.”

Jared froze, thinking through the ramifications of that claim.

After a pause, Susan continued. “Do we need to have a conversation about the porn addiction?”

Grappling for the phone, Jared lost his balance on the rolling office chair and almost fell.

“I do not have a porn addiction!” he shouted into the phone. When he heard no response, he realized he hadn’t answered it. After pressing the green button, he tried again. “I’m not addicted to porn!”

Pulling up a website a couple of times a month when the loneliness got to be too overwhelming didn’t constitute an addiction. Besides, he didn’t enjoy it very much. The men on the screen weren’t real. He couldn’t smell them, couldn’t touch them, couldn’t taste them.

“Of course you don’t have a porn addiction,” Susan said incredulously. “I’ve known you your entire life. I’d know if you had a porn addiction.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear, stared at it, and then put it back. “But you just said—”

“I said what I needed to say to get you to answer your phone.”

“So you don’t have a program on my computer tracking everything I do?”

“I might, but that’s not the point,” she said dismissively. In his head, he could see her waving her hand and flipping her long brown hair over her right shoulder. “It’s called manipulation. It’s the same way I got you to do everything I wanted when we were married.”

Susan had been his high school sweetheart. They’d gotten engaged right after graduation, married six months later, and then divorced two years after that. Susan had moved to Phoenix with Phillip Padrez, her new boyfriend—now husband. And Jared still loved her just as much as he did on the day they got married. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough now, and it hadn’t been enough then.

“Jared, stop feeling guilty. It took two people to get married and two people to get divorced.”

Thankfully the end of their marriage hadn’t meant the end of their friendship. Susan still called Jared a few times a week and came to see him when she visited her mother in Hope, which made computer spying a viable possibility. And though Jared was much more comfortable with that type of relationship, he sometimes still regretted that he hadn’t been able to give Susan more.

“But if I wasn’t… If I could have…”

“If you weren’t gay, I still would have been miserable living on that farm, and we both know it,” Susan said. “Just like we both knew you were gay, even if we were too young to admit it or realize you didn’t need to change.”

For many years Jared had wished for that very thing. But at age thirty-two, he had long since stopped wishing he could change himself and fall in love with a woman. Instead, he longed to meet a man he could love who would love him back.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Susan sighed. “I hope that’s true because I worry about you being out there on that farm all alone.”

“I’m not alone,” he denied. “There are people around all the time, working, and I go into town to buy supplies and—”

“Are those men working on your farm also working it in your bed?”

He started coughing. “That’s none of your business.”

“Uh-huh, that’s about what I thought. Jared, isn’t it time you made an effort to meet someone?”

“I know you and Phillip are happy, but that doesn’t mean everyone wants to be in a relationship.”

“I’m not talking about everyone. I’m talking about you. Don’t bother arguing with me about it, because I know it’s true. You live out on that farm, away from the world, and you’re dying to have someone waiting for you in the house every day.”

Denying it was pointless. Susan had firsthand knowledge of just how much Jared longed for what she described. After all, he had married her, hoping for that very thing even though the love they’d shared had been one of friendship and not what anyone, them included, would have described as romantic or passionate.

“Wanting something and being able to have it aren’t the same things,” he said.

“That’s because you don’t try! If you ever leave your farm, it’s to go into Hope, which has a population of nothing, and even then you don’t talk to anyone.”

“Hope isn’t that small, and you don’t understand.”

She couldn’t understand noticing a man across a dark room and gathering the courage to approach him only to see the light of interest in his eyes dim once he got a close look at a scarred face. The beard could only hide so much. Plus, Jared had a hard enough time making conversation; it was impossible when a guy couldn’t look at him without flinching or kept darting his gaze around to make sure none of his friends saw him talking to the poorly dressed weirdo from the sticks. The only thing men in bars wanted from a six foot five, beefy guy with shaggy red hair and an imperfect face was a hard fuck in a dark corner with their backs to him. Finding release with the porn on his computer demoralized him less.

“Yes, I do,” Susan argued. “I know how amazing you are. Any man would be lucky to have you. All you have to do is flash those green eyes, smile, and make a little conversation.”

If only it were that easy. He swallowed down his emotions and said, “Let it go, Susan.”

He didn’t expect a simple request to work, especially not the first time he said it, but amazingly, it did.

“Fine,” she said. “That’s not why I called anyway.”

Distracted by the miracle of avoiding more nagging about his non-existent dating life, Jared was oblivious to the punch slated to take its place until it landed its mark.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Susan asked.



“Um. It’s Tuesday. I’m working.”

“I’m sending something your way. Do you have time to run into town to pick it up?”

Each day’s schedule mimicked the one before—wake up at sunrise, work with the organic produce he grew in greenhouses throughout his property, warm up dinner, eat alone, and go to bed, also alone. About once a week, he headed into town to pick up supplies and treat himself to a decent meal at Jesse’s Diner. Nothing prevented him from making the next day supply day. Maybe he’d get lucky and meatloaf would be the day’s special.

“Sure. Is it at your mom’s house or at The Mailstop?”

“Neither actually. He’ll be at the bus stop at a quarter after six.”

“Wait. What?”

“A quarter after six at the bus stop,” she said.

“I heard that part. Did you say ‘he’?”

“Yes. I’m sending Lucas to you for a couple of months. Well, technically my dad’s sending him.”

Already reeling from the unexpected turn of events, Jared got dizzy from the mention of Susan’s half-brother. With chestnut hair, sky blue eyes, tan skin, and a sleek, compact body, Lucas Reika was the single most gorgeous person Jared had ever seen. Susan was young when her parents divorced. Her mother had moved to Hope, seeking a simple life. Her father had remained in Los Angeles, running an increasingly more successful chain of restaurants. He had remarried and had a son, who he had raised alone after his second wife passed away.

“Why is Lucas Reika coming to Hope?”

Being around Lucas aggravated Jared’s already debilitating fear of social situations and turned him into a stammering fool. Thankfully, Lucas never gave him the time of day long enough to notice. He was always too busy flirting with whatever man he had on his arm, and often with many others. Lucas was the center of attention wherever he went, and Jared was a guy who he was “pleased to meet” when they were introduced even though they had already met more than once—at Susan and Phillip’s anniversary dinner, christenings for their children, and a few events thrown by Susan’s father, whose restaurants were Jared’s biggest customers.

“Because spending time away from his friends and the whole LA scene is the best chance Lucas has of getting his head on straight.”

“I don’t understand.” Jared shook his head and furrowed his brow. “Lucas is in some kind of trouble?”

“Oh please. Lucas is trouble. You’ve seen it for yourself.”

Lucas was loud, he drank too much, and he thought a lot of himself.

“What happened?”

Susan sighed. “He finally finished school in June, barely. Took him five years, but he finished. Then he spent two months partying and didn’t make a single move to find a job. My father finally got fed up and told him if he wanted to keep getting money, he had to start earning it. He even offered to teach Lucas the business, which basically meant having him rotate through the restaurants and learn from his executives. But you know how my brother is.”

“Lucas didn’t do the work?” Jared asked.

“That too. But the bigger issue is he had sex in the kitchen at Northstar before they opened for the Saturday dinner service. With the head chef. The head hostess, who’s also the chef’s girlfriend, walked in on them. She started screaming. Half the waitstaff came running in. At some point the chef or the hostess—I can’t remember which one—stormed off and the other one followed, which meant no head chef and no head hostess on a Saturday night at my father’s flagship restaurant. It was mass chaos. People were seated late, food came out late, and don’t even get me started on my father’s meltdown over what they were doing on a prep table. Totally unsanitary.”

Groaning, Jared shook his head in dismay. Paul Reika took his restaurants very seriously. The papers joked that everything he touched turned to gold, but in truth, Paul worked day and night to make his restaurants a success. The fact that he trusted Jared—and nobody but Jared—to supply his produce was a huge honor, and very lucrative.

“I can’t believe he did that.”

“Oh, I can believe it. Lucas is an entitled, self-absorbed, lazy, snobby prick. I’m guessing he’s done a lot worse but my dad kept turning a blind eye.”

“But this was in his restaurant,” Jared said, understanding how angry that would make Paul.

“Exactly. Ignoring his kids is one thing, but you know how my father feels about those restaurants.”

Jared knew she didn’t aim the comment to get pity. Susan was well aware of who her father was and who he wasn’t, and she had accepted it long ago. Having an incredibly caring mother and stepfather probably helped, but mostly Susan was a strong as nails, ‘glass is half-full’ type.

“So Lucas feels embarrassed about what happened, and he wants to hide out from the world for a while?” Jared said, still trying to wrap his head around why Lucas Reika was coming to stay with him and how he’d get through it without stuttering, staring, and being socially awkward. Or at least without stuttering and staring.

“Embarrassed?” she scoffed. “Please. I have no doubt he did it on purpose, and I’ve seen absolutely no indication that he’s embarrassed.”

“Then why does he want to get away? And why here? Susan, I don’t think he’ll like being here. It’s boring.” The farm, the life, Jared. All of it would be boring to a guy who grew up in Beverly Hills, surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful friends, and spent his nights at the trendiest clubs.

“Boring is just what Lucas needs. And it’s not a matter of what he wants. He doesn’t have a choice. My father is making him go.”

Furrowing his brow, Jared said, “What do you mean he doesn’t have a choice? The guy’s what? Twenty-three, twenty-four?”

“He’s twenty-four. And you’re right, technically he has a choice. He can stay here and get cut off, or he can go stay with you, get his head on straight, and keep his credit cards.”

“Your father wouldn’t do that to Lucas.” Paul was a ruthless shark in business, but he wouldn’t cut off his only son.

“Lucas splattered semen all over the prep table in my father’s flagship restaurant before the Saturday night dinner rush. My father had to find a new chef and a new head hostess. He not only would do that to Lucas, he did do it. I had to beg him to give Lucas another chance.” She paused. “Beg. And the little shit didn’t even bother to thank me.”

“And sending your brother to stay with me was the only way you could think of to torture him?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Susan said. “I begged my dad to give Lucas another chance, and he said he’d do it under one condition.”

He waited for Susan to continue, and when she didn’t, he said, “What’s the condition?”



“Yes. Lucas has to go stay with you. That’s the deal.”

“That makes no sense,” Jared said.

“Actually, I think it’s brilliant. So brilliant I wish I could take credit for having thought of it.”

“What’s brilliant about it?” Jared asked. “Does he have any farming experience? Irrigation experience? Horticulture experience?”


“Is he a hard worker? A fast learner? Eager to try new things?”


“Then I don’t think it’s a brilliant idea, and I don’t want him here.”

“You’re going to say no to my father?” she asked in amusement.

Jared genuinely liked Paul. He wouldn’t deny that the man was sometimes cold, often grumbly, and a workaholic, but Jared got along better with him than he did with most people. And Paul had taken a chance on him when he was starting out. Jared’s customers came to him because of the reputation he’d earned for growing quality produce; and he’d earned that reputation in Paul’s restaurants. He couldn’t turn down a favor for a man responsible for most of his income and who he considered a friend.

“Damn it,” Jared said.

Chuckling, Susan said, “That’s what I thought. Lucas will be at the bus stop tomorrow at a quarter after six.”

“Fine.” Jared sighed resignedly. “I’ll pick him up and try to find something for him to do around here.” He looked around at his messy desk and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Maybe he can do the paperwork.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. He’ll love that.”

“That kind of tone is not instilling confidence in me, Susan!”

“Sorry.” She laughed. “Thanks for doing this, Jared. Seriously.”

He didn’t have a choice. And not just because Paul was his biggest client and a friend. Susan was family, the only family he had left. “You’re welcome. Say hi to Phillip and the kiddos. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I will. And Jared?”


“Good luck.”

He hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. “I’m going to need more than luck to survive having Lucas Reika under my roof for two months.”

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CARNAL TAKEOVER – erotic contemporary – ADULT

CarnalTakeover_TinaDonahue (2)


During the day, she’s in charge—at night, he’ll take command of her body, their desires…

Dominance and discipline. Alexandra hungers for both from Daniel, the lead engineer on her Alaskan energy project. She imagines him punishing then mounting her while his team watches. Full-figured, Alexandra hasn’t had much luck with guys, especially ones so potently male. To change that, she invites Daniel to teach her submission to his most carnal needs. She also invites his men.

For too long, Daniel’s craved Alexandra’s lush figure and smarts. However, she’s his boss, it’s not wise to mix business with pleasure, and no damn way does he intend to share her. After one lusty night of her submitting to him and his men, Daniel claims Alexandra as his sub. On his terms. No regrets. No strings.

Yeah, right.

Tell that to their hearts.

Inside scoop: Alexandra and Daniel set things on fire with a brief ménage. Lucky girl has several men to fulfill her needs!

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