STORMBOUND WITH A TYCOON Silhouette Desire by Shawna Delacorte reissued by Harlequin in ebook
G-EXCERPT #1: (who stays)
Jessica knew she needed to say what was on her mind before she totally succumbed to the suggestion of untold pleasures hidden in the depth of Dylan’s eyes and behind that smile.
She turned her gaze away from him preferring to focus her attention on an inanimate object. She chose the table lamp. A nervous tremor made its way through her body. “I…uh…I’ve been giving this some thought. Before anything else happens, we need to settle the problem of who is going to use the cabin. I do understand that Justin promised the cabin to you based on the fact that I was supposed to be in New York, but it should be obvious to you that the circumstances have changed. I’m not in New York, And…well, what with the electricity being out and all…”
She drew in a steadying breath in an attempt to quell her rising anxiety. “Well, I just think you’d be more comfortable at the lodge. It’s only a few miles from here, down on the main road.”
“No, I wouldn’t be more comfortable at the lodge.”
“What?” She snapped her head in his direction as the shock spread through her body. His words caught her totally off guard. His unwavering gaze provided no hint of what he was thinking, yet it set her anxieties on edge. She stared at the lamp again, unable to hold the directness of his eye contact. There was nothing tentative or unsure about his attitude or the physical stance of his body language.
She forced her words, even though she knew they sounded less firm than when she started. “The lodge is very nice. I’m also sure it will be much more to your liking than being here without any activities or other people to socialize with.”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. His voice was calm and very matter-of-fact, his words firm without being argumentative. “This cabin is only half yours. The other half belongs to Justin. You informed him you would be in New York for three weeks. So, taking you at your word, he promised use of the cabin to me. Since you’re the one who showed up without checking first, I believe I have the right to stay.”
She grabbed the fireplace poker and jabbed at the remnants of the morning’s disastrous fire in an effort to play for time as she carefully chose her words. She didn’t want to get into an argument, but she wanted to make her position clear. She turned to face him.
“Whether I’m supposed to be in New York or not isn’t the point. The fact is that I’m not in New York…I’m here.” She caught the edge surrounding her voice and took a steadying breath in hopes of smoothing it out. “I’m truly sorry this unfortunate situation had to occur, but I really do feel that the lodge will be far more to your liking. This cabin certainly can’t be the kind of place where you would usually stay. This type of isolation must be quite different from your normal routine.”
She wrinkled her brow in concentration for a moment. “In fact, I can’t imagine why you would want to stay here at all.”
A spark of anger flared with his words. “My normal routine has its times of isolation.” He paused and took a deep breath before muttering, “But I’m sure you wouldn’t understand that.”
She saw something in his eyes and heard it in a brief moment in his voice. A hint of vulnerability? As quickly as it materialized it just as quickly disappeared, to be replaced by a façade of calm control. It was just a glimpse, but enough to tell her that there was more going on inside his head than he was saying or willing to show. What was he hiding? Then another thought occurred to her. Rather than hiding something, could he be hiding from someone?
She had no idea what he had specifically been doing over the years, only what her brother had told her. Perhaps his “business deals” were really scams to fleece unsuspecting people out of their money. A sick churning in the pit of her stomach told her just how much she hoped that wasn’t true. She studied him for a moment. He looked so calm and collected, as if nothing could ruffle him. She wished she felt as in control as he looked.
STORMBOUND WITH A TYCOON, a Harlequin Desire by Shawna Delacorte, is an ebook reissue available at http://ebooks.eharlequin.com (do search for author name Shawna Delacorte). Also available at Barnes and Noble in NookBooks www.bn.com and Amazon for Kindle www.amazon.com Information is available on my website at www.shawnadelacorte.com
Wealthy, jaded playboy Dylan Russell had sought an isolated cabin in the woods to escape his fast-paced life and reconsider his future. He wanted solitude…but awoke to a woman in his bed! Nothing had prepared Dylan for the sight of his best friend’s sister…or the sensual spark that embracing her ignited.
After a canceled project, publicist Jessica McGuire looked forward to days of relaxation. She never expected to encounter the man who had stirred feelings deep in her soul years ago. Stranded with her in a storm, Dylan beckoned her closer with his bedroom eyes. But would Jessica have to be content with only a few nights of passion when she yearned for his love for a lifetime?
Text Copyright © 2001 by SKDennison, Inc. Cover Art Copyright © 2001 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited. Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved. ® and ™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its affiliated companies, used under license.
SECRET LOVER Harlequin Intrigue mystery romantic/suspense by Shawna Delacorte reissued by Harlequin in ebook
G-EXCERPT #1: (his fear)
She quickly withdrew from his touch. The potent jolt of reality caused her insides to tremble. She stepped back from him in an attempt to regain control of this unexpected turn of events. “You startled me. I certainly didn’t expect anyone to be knocking on my door, especially in the middle of this snowstorm. I was just about to bring in some firewood.”
“Let me do that for you.” He loaded his arms with several pieces of wood and carried them to the fireplace, adding a couple of logs to the fire. His gaze darted around the room, taking in everything, including the typewriter and the numerous crumbled sheets of paper strewn across the floor.
He returned his attention to her. “Are you a writer?”
His manner was open and easy. Her wariness of this stranger lessened, but the unnerving sensual pull of the man refused to go away. A nervousness jittered through her insides, caused not by any concern for her safety but rather the result of far more primal instincts. “Yes, I am. For the past four months I’ve been heavily involved in researching my next book and now I have to write it. I’m trying something different this time and I’m having trouble with it. I’m basing a fiction novel on a real-life case that happened five years ago. This is the first time I’ve tried doing that type of book, and I wasn’t making much progress at home….”
Her voice momentarily faded as she though of the reason for her concentration problem—the unwanted attentions of Nick. She quickly returned her attention to the problem at hand. Whoever Jim Richards was, he seemed to notice everything—every detail that surrounded him. For some inexplicable reason she felt a sudden need to let this stranger know that someone knew where she was. “My agent thought a change of scenery might be helpful in breaking the ol’ writer’s block, so he sent me here—lots of peace and quiet without any distractions.”
He indicated the mess on the floor surrounding the typewriter. “Do you have as many completed pages as you do discarded ones?”
“Not exactly…” Andi allowed a soft chuckle. “In fact, I don’t have any completed pages.” She stooped down and began picking up the mess.
“Here, let me help you.” Jim knelt down next to her. She smelled good. It was not a sweet perfume scent, rather a sort of crisp, clean fragrance—the type that fit in with a snowy day in the forest. He reluctantly acknowledged the little tremor of excitement that her nearness caused. He looked over at her, his gaze capturing hers and holding it for a long moment. The tightness in his chest returned. He forced his gaze elsewhere. “What kind of books do you write?” He smoothed out one of the crumpled pieces of paper, then quickly scanned the typed page.
“I write mysteries…”
Jim heard her voice trail off in midsentence, but he was far too occupied with what he had in his hand to respond. The words leapt off the page at him—Chicago…Buchanan Chemicals…dumping toxic waste…James Hollander…car bomb, wife killed…disappeared…government still searching for missing key witness.
A hard lump formed in his throat and his pulse raced almost out of control. It had been five years. He had changed his last name from Hollander to Richards and, four years ago, had finally settled into these isolated surroundings. And now this woman appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be a writer and in possession of notes about his past. Was this Andrea Sinclair who she pretended to be, and was all of this some strange, cruel quirk of fate, or was the truth a lot more sinister?
He regained his composure and tried to focus his attention on what she had been saying. “Mysteries, you say… Have you had any published? I read a lot, including mysteries, and I’m not familiar with your name.”
“I write under a pseudonym.” Something about his manner touched a note of discomfort and suspicion deep inside her. Maybe it was from having had twelve mysteries published. She paused in her thoughts as she realized that the James Hollander book would be her thirteenth. She dismissed the silly superstition and returned to her original thought. Perhaps it was from her degree in journalism and the year she spent as assistant to Steve Westerfall, a top investigative reporter, that caused her suspicions. Her mind jumped at the many possibilities, ticking off a list of five different plots in the space of about thirty seconds.
“Really? What’s your pen name?” He was only half listening to what she had said. “Maybe I’ve read some of your work.” A distrubing thought grew inside him. What if she was one of those investigative reporters? He tried to dismiss the idea. If the United States government had not been able to find him hiding out in the Canadian woods, how could some reporter track him down? Then an even more frightening thought occurred to him. What if she worked for Milo Buchanan? No one would ever suspect a woman of being…
SECRET LOVER, a Harlequin Intrigue mystery romantic/suspense by Shawna Delacorte, is an ebook reissue available at http://ebooks.eharlequin.com (do search for author name Shawna Delacorte). Also available at Barnes and Noble in NookBooks www.bn.com and Amazon for Kindle www.amazon.com Information is available on my website www.shawnadelacorte.com
Andrea Sinclair found herself inexplicably drawn to Jim Richards—mind and body—as if she already knew him. His hair and face were wrong, but there was something about the man… Was he the one she’d been searching for ever since he left the Witness Protection Program with a price on his head?
Jim had been alone for too long—alone and lonely. He couldn’t help fantasizing about Andi, though she represented life-threatening danger to him. She knew everything about him—everything he’d carefully tried to erase. Could he trust her to help him find the killer who pursued him…? He didn’t have a choice. His heart wouldn’t let him leave her.
Text Copyright © 1999 by SKDennison, Inc. Cover Art Copyright © 1999 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited. Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved. ® and ™ are trademarks owned by Harlequin Enterprises Limited or its affiliated companies, used under license.
BECKY’S MASTER – KC VIXEN
English buccaneer, Ethan Harvey, saves Becky Gentry. It costs him dearly. He vows to make Becky pay, but all she has to barter is her body.
MASTERING JUSTICE – LACEY ROBERTS
Moses Jordan, a billionaire, stamps his ownership on anything he desires, including Imogen Walters a beautiful blonde, lawyer.
By the time Ross Calvert discovers Harry Martin is in fact Harriet Martin she has fallen in love with him. Realizing she has failed in her final effort to protect her shell-shocked brother, she puts a desperate proposition to Ross. Marry her and she will give him an heir.
Ross accepts. However, he is tormented by the betrayal of his former fiancée Virginia. On his honeymoon he meets her again and is still infatuated. With the army recalling him to the trenches of France, he faces a terrible dilemma. Taste Virginia’s passion before he marches off to war, or keep his marriage vows to Harry.
Happy holidays to all! If you are looking for sensual, romantic reads, try one–or all three–of my Rock’n’Romance stories. Digital versions are only 99 cents from Rogue Phoenix Press, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and other online e-tailers.
Print versions are also available from Amazon.com.
1–My gift for the TRS Christmas party: I will be awarding one party attendee the three books of my Rock’n’Romance trilogy (print versions shipped within US only, please).
2–Special gift: a FREE download of one of my Rock’n’Romance books (PDF or mobi) to someone who comments on this post.
Yes she is. She dreamed of the idea. She decided to set in Regina Beach, SK where she once lived. She researched about returning Afghan soldiers. She researched about grief. She knew that Anna considered herself a widow, even though technically, she had not exchanged the vows with her fiancé, because she buried him on what would have been their wedding day.
Annette Bower wanted to discover how two people who are Moving On from loss would find each other and grow into friendship and love.
Yes, Annette Bower is Moving On, but it is Anna and Nick’s journey that you will enjoy. Not a snowflake in sight. Not one jingle bell. Not one Ho Ho. Nope. Just spring and lilacs and growth. Come and join Anna and Nick in the town of Regina Beach where everyone thinks they know all the secrets but there are some that are yet to be discovered. Moving On published by Soul Mate Publishing.
Here’s a hot excerpt from my M/M erotic romance novella, Desert Heat, which appears in the Unconditional Surrender boxed set. The set is actually being discontinued on the 1st January, so if you want to grab 13 amazing M/M erotic romances for one fantastic price, I’d recommend clicking that buy button soon
Closing his eyes, he forced himself to relax and let his brain do what it wanted. Naturally, it veered straight back to Balkhi. Balkhi as Wilkes had first met him, in dish-dash and flip-flops. Balkhi in British Army uniform and sturdy boots. Finally, Balkhi in nothing but a smile, his long, lean body hard and tempting. His dark skin shone in the light, shifting over muscles and sinews as Balkhi waited for Wilkes to make a move.
“Touch your cock,” Wilkes said in his fantasy, while in real life his hand tugged down his boxer shorts and released his own. “Touch it for me. Stroke it. Squeeze it.” Each sentence mirrored his own actions, and within seconds his shaft was as hard as fantasy-Balkhi’s, which was now tipped with pre-cum.
Balkhi did as he was asked, his long fingers wrapping firmly around his dick, shifting up and down. The skin around his knuckles paled slightly as he obeyed the last command—squeeze it. His pupils were so large that his eyes looked almost black, and his bottom lip jutted out temptingly as he panted. Wilkes wanted to nip it between his teeth, make Balkhi gasp with the sharp bolt of pain, then pull the plump flesh into his mouth and suck it all better.
Remembering it was all in his head and that he could do whatever the hell he damn well wanted, Wilkes acted on his impulse. Balkhi tasted and felt as good as he looked, and Wilkes pumped his cock harder and faster, wishing he didn’t have to keep quiet. Not that anyone would do anything if they noticed what sounded like come-noises emanating from the boss’ tent, but no doubt he’d have the piss taken out of him at some point for being heard tossing off. And, knowing his luck, they’d bring it up in front of Balkhi, and then Wilkes would die of embarrassment on the spot.
Dropping to his knees, Wilkes hurriedly shoved Balkhi’s hand away from his shaft and took a moment to study it. Just like the man it belonged to, it was not too big, not too small, and yet far from average. Circumcised, the head was fully visible; nothing was hidden beneath folds of skin. Reaching out, Wilkes wrapped his fingers around it, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face as it hardened further beneath his touch.
Shifting a little to get the perfect grip, Wilkes then began to masturbate Balkhi, in long, steady strokes, squeezing just a little harder as he got to the base, releasing the tension as his hand traveled up the length. Then he reversed the technique, playing around to see what Balkhi liked best, what made him gasp, what made him moan. Everything seemed to have the desired effect, so Wilkes picked up speed and grew rougher with his strokes, delighted when more clear liquid beaded at the dark purple head.
Unable to resist, he stuck out his tongue and tasted it. A hiss escaped from between Balkhi’s teeth. Wilkes did it again, and again, poking his tongue deep into the slit, pulling out more of the salty liquid and drinking it down eagerly. God, he wanted to make him come in his mouth, make his cock throb between his lips and his balls empty their load down his throat.
Making sure his mouth was plenty wet, Wilkes licked his lips then sunk them onto Balkhi’s cock. It tasted good, so fucking good. Clean, musky, salty. Masculine. Wilkes had barely started and already he was hooked. Concentrating on the head for a while, he got it soaked with saliva, letting it dribble down the shaft and onto his fingers. Then he used his hand to pump the base while his lips, teeth and tongue teased the tip, gradually working down and down until he needed to move his hand out of the way. Continuing on, Wilkes pulled in a deep breath through his nostrils, willing himself to relax as the head of Balkhi’s cock flirted with his gag reflex. Pushing through the initial discomfort, he swallowed, taking it in, gratified to hear Balkhi’s yelp, and feel desperate fingers grip his scalp.
Fuck, he felt powerful and vulnerable all at once, and it was perfect. Utterly perfect. Working his throat around Balkhi’s cock, he hoped it would be enough to make him come. His hands now free, he reached down and began teasing Balkhi’s balls, rolling them gently in the soft sac, tugging, squeezing lightly. A strangled sound came from above, and Wilkes smiled in his head.
Releasing Balkhi’s balls, he crept a finger behind them, pressing on that smooth patch of skin there, before venturing farther, teasing the crinkled skin of his arsehole.
That was enough—just the suggestion was enough to send Balkhi over the edge, and with a grunt and a moan, his cock exploded.
Wilkes pulled back slightly, allowing the salty fluid to gush out over his tongue, before he swallowed it down.
Back on his camp bed in his grotty tent in the desert, Wilkes pressed his lips together to keep quiet as his own orgasm hit, spurting out over his fingers and his stomach, pleasure overwhelming as his mind was overtaken with erotic images of his Afghan interpreter.
Grab your copy now: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/unconditional-surrender/
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 http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
Only 99c US
Brenda, a classical musician, is looking for a roommate to help alleviate the costs of living in expensive Southern California. She is also attempting to fend off the attention of her amorous, bullying conductor, deal with her meddling family, and understand her feelings for Greg, the building’s sexy young owner.
Rosy, a nurse, recently arrived from Australia, hates the Vietnam War, in particular what it has done to her patients. She agrees to room with Brenda to save money.
Can a war protestor and war supporter live peaceably under one roof? And why is Rosy unable to shake her attraction to her gorgeous, unconscious patient, Jack?
Jack’s eyes drooped. Rosy watched as he seemed to be spirited away back to the War.
“I will never forget one little girl, Binh Lue. She lived with her grandparents in a village in the Que Son Mountains. She was about four or five. She was so sad, wouldn’t come to us the way the other kids did. It took me a week of gentle persuasion before she would come and sit on my lap by the fire and listen to the men playing handmade wooden instruments.”
Jack gazed deep into Rosy’s eyes. “You would have loved her. She was tiny with a little button nose and the bluest eyes.”
“Blue? Is that common?”
“Her father was an American soldier and she had been left in the village to try to protect her from Viet Cong. Trouble was, the bastards were everywhere.” Tears welled in his eyes.
“Clark, Steven and I were on patrol in thick jungle around the village perimeter, about half mile out, when we heard a bomb explode. Viet Cong were bombing the village. By the time we got back there every hut was on fire. It was beyond our control, no-one was left alive. It was a fuckin’ slaughter. We headed back into the jungle with plans to radio our unit the following day. Binh had somehow survived and followed us. We didn’t know until we heard a click. She had stepped on a mine.”
“Oh God.” Rosy’s hand flew to her mouth.
“We raced back towards the sound. Clark and Steven got there first and when Binh saw her friends, she started towards them. We screamed at her to stand still but she couldn’t understand us. The mine exploded and we were all blown into the air with the force. There were only fragments of Binh’s body left and I buried the pieces I could find. I started to drag Clark and Steven back to the village but I could only go a few feet each day before I passed out. I hoped if I got us to the village, some of our unit would eventually come to check why they hadn’t heard from us. I don’t know how long it was before some soldiers found us and we got help.”
Jack began sobbing. Rosy sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him into her arms. She ran her hands up and down his back and silently grieved with him. She couldn’t begin to understand the horrors he had borne witness to. No wonder the man was troubled by nightmares.
Suitable for 18+
Amazon US: http://amzn.com/B00P872Z30
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00P872Z30
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00P872Z30
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00P872Z30
Oh, God, I never thought it could be this good. Evelyn moaned in her sleep, the sex was so exquisite. Every part of her body tingled. She rolled over and her hand touched something. Evelyn opened her eyes. Max was sleeping next to her.
They hadn’t had sex. It was all Svenna and Reynard. It was all a dream, but still … Evelyn smiled to herself. It had felt so real. What intrigued her most was seeing everything through Max’s eyes in addition to her own. How was that possible? In the dim light, she examined Max’s features. There was no doubt about it. This was her Viking warrior Reynard, the one that never came home. Dreaming each other’s dreams was a sign of a lifemate. Was that true or just a weird abnormally? Evelyn had grown up within the secret society of magic in New Orleans. She’d seen more than her share of weirdness. Her mother performed all sorts of strange rituals around her hoping that Evelyn’s Telkhine powers would emerge.
Part of her was let down. No powers. This reaction Max had to her and her to him was probably some side effect of her Telkhine heritage and nothing more. Still… when she closed her eyes, the rush through her body told her that the experience of the dream was tangible, so vivid that the sensation of satisfaction warmed her all over. Did Max dream the same dream? Did she have the guts to ask him?
Max moved in his sleep. Scooping her up with one arm, he pulled her closer until his face was against her neck. He growled, and the hairs on her neck stood on end. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she liked everything about him, even the weird stuff like this. Evelyn felt safe with him, protected and loved. There was the word she’d been avoiding. LOVE. Did she love him? Enough to spend forever with him? What about the lifemate stuff? Maybe it was all a myth after all. Maybe most people never found their lifemate. Or what if they really were lifemates only dysfunctional in being able to hear each other? She giggled. Most human couples didn’t hear each other after so many years together. She didn’t know what to think about lifemates, but she did know that inch by inch, she was getting used to the idea that making love with Max was an experience she didn’t want to miss.
Now for the contest: To enter say “I love Max” in the comment box. One randomly chosen winner will choose one of my ebooks that is currently available. Vampire King of New York is available in Kindle, Nook, and Kobo. To see my other book, visit http://www.susanhannifordcrowley.com Look for my next posts and enter there too. It will be another slip in the hat so to speak. The contest ends when the Christmas Party ends.
If you cannot wait, visit:
Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Vampire-King-Susan-Hanniford-Crowley-ebook/dp/B00D70NC6O