It’s Lea Bronson’s new hit – The Hotter the Love
Friday, September 9th, 2016

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The Hotter the Love by Lea Bronsen

Series: Hot Model Mine #3

After sexy cover model Yushka proposed, life is more turbulent than ever for erotic romance author Andrea. He is expecting a baby with his ex-girlfriend, who says she doesn’t want to keep it. How will Andrea’s sons take upcoming life changes? To make things more complicated, her ex goes to great lengths to coax her back, and one of her sons’ girlfriend is a tad too interested in Andrea’s young and very handsome fiancé…

On the writing front, Andrea anxiously awaits news on her latest manuscript submission, and she has to decide whether to accept her publisher’s offer to model in a sexy photo shoot—the same kind she and Yushka did in Cannes—in the hopes of making a new “Cover Photo of the Year”. Considering the erotic poses the previous photographer demanded, can Andrea model with another guy other than Yushka?

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Excerpt:

We enter a hall so big the tiniest sound echoes. It’s quite humbling. I shrink in my clothes and barely dare to breathe. Dark wood furniture towers over us, with a mix of contradictory smells—orchid-scented sanitizer and old dust—filling the space.

Shoes clamping on a hardwood floor, we follow the tall, silver-haired man into a living room with exquisite furniture, gold-framed mirrors, and classic paintings on the walls. Heavy velvet curtains adorn the windows, and an impressive floor-to-ceiling library on one side has to contain literary curiosities from every part of the world. Marveling, I study each magnificent object.

The man stops and glares across the room, his facial expression clearly one of annoyance. What an oppressive atmosphere.

Yushka stands beside him and stares in the same direction.

I follow their gaze. A young and strikingly beautiful woman is half-seated on a green velvet couch with her legs folded underneath her. Dark doe eyes and pink lips stand out in a pale, oval face. A waterfall of rich, glowing auburn-colored hair contrasts with her white dress. She looks cast in a scene from the Russian classic Doctor Zhivago. Beneath full breasts, a pregnant belly protrudes, far too round and big for her frail frame. Jekaterina?

My chest tightens. The more I look at her, the more her beauty takes my breath away. She’s the woman Yushka was in love with last year. The one he slept with and impregnated.

Her gaze is riveted on him, the recognition and warmth fiery.

I shoot him a glance. His features are tight, as if he’s trying to hide his reaction, but he doesn’t take his gaze off her. This is exactly what I feared. They’ve had feelings for each other. Maybe meeting now will revive them. He has fallen for her once, so why would he not fall for her again?

I feel bad, nauseous, want to get out of here. But she’s carrying the baby girl I’m going to call mine very soon. I need to overcome my unease. Hopefully, once the formalities are done, this is the only time we’ll have to meet.

She tells him a few words in Russian, her voice the cooing of a turtledove.

Yushka replies calmly, but his throat sounds choked. He grabs my hand, palm sweaty, and leads me to a sofa opposite hers. His discomfort is more than clear in his features. He tears his gaze from her and searches me, his expression vibrating with an intensity I seldom see. It hits me—he’s afraid.

I squeeze his hand. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he replies instantly, but his tension is palpable.

My chest tightens to a painful level. What is he so nervous about? From his interaction with Jekaterina, this has nothing to do with the baby. It’s about them, their relationship, and me. Is he afraid he’ll have to choose between us?

Goodness, I’m delirious. I sit very still, take small, shallow breaths, and pray for everything to be all right. Then bolt out of this house after the arrangements are resolved.

Jekaterina addresses me, her dark pupils glimmering. “You’re very beautiful. Are you a model, too?”

I’m as taken aback by her speaking a fluent English as I am by her compliment, and need a few seconds to shake myself. “Um, no, I’m not.”

She raises a brow. “That’s funny. I would’ve sworn you were a model. So how did you two meet?”

“At an author conference.”

Yushka clears his throat. “Andrea writes books, and I’m featured on the cover of her last one.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Her lips curve upward. I can’t decide whether it’s a genuine smile or she’s faking it.

“Yes,” he continues. “That’s why we … uh … were bound to meet. They had organized a Meet-and-Greet for authors and cover models of their books.” Why does he sound like he’s trying to make an excuse?

She flutters her long lashes at me. “What kind of books do you write?”

Before I can answer, her father walks over to a cabinet and picks up a bunch of papers. “All right, enough chit-chat.” His voice booms like thunder.

hotmodelmine

The other books in the Hot Model Mine series:

The Perfect Shoot (book #1)

Book pageBuy link

When Andrea Johnson, writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential for THE cover photo of the century, he decides to push their comfort limits…

Mine to Love (book #2)

Book page Buy link

The writing conference in sunny Cannes was fantastical, a dream. Back at home, reality catches up with author Andrea Johnson and the sexy cover model of her book, Yushka. With tough working schedules, challenging family relations, and seductive temptation from all sides, the couple’s explosive romance is put to the test. Will their love be strong enough to have a future?

Author Bio:

Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between psychological thriller, romantic suspense, and erotic dark/contemporary romance.

She’s signed with Evernight Publishing, Decadent Publishing, and Insatiable Press. She has also self-published some of her works and participated in the making of several anthologies.

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Only 4 more days!
Thursday, September 1st, 2016

Only 4 more days to get LINE OF SCRIMMAGE for 99 cents. 

Have you read Jake and Erin’s story? If not, here is your chance to buy it at the special reduced price of 99 cents. But only for 4 more days!

Sometimes it’s not about winning…

One bad tackle. That’s all it took to put wide receiver Jake Russell in a cast for the rest of the NFL season. From being a high school all-star to getting drafted by the Austin Mustangs, football has been Jake’s life for as long as he can remember. It’s what defines him—because he has a secret he never shares. But now that he’s laid up in bed with a nurse displaying a lot of distracting bedside manners, he’s discovering life on the sidelines might have its perks. . .

One last paycheck. That’s all Erin Bass has left to her name when the resort she works at shuts down. Desperate, she agrees to be a caregiver to hardass jock Jake Russell, who also happens to be a memorable one-night stand. Before long, caring leads to daring new ways to catch up in bed, especially with Jake still in a cast. But with football on the sidelines, this time the game is serious. . .

Excerpt:LineScrimmmage

Well, at least she had a nice place to stay and a steady income for a while, providing she could stand the man. She still had no real idea what this job would entail, and Ivy had been less than forthcoming, a sure sign this was a bad mistake. But she was already committed and at least she’d stay for one day.

She stood at the window for a long time, thinking about her situation, sipping her coffee. She really hoped this worked out, because the salary would put her in a good place until she got another job. Maybe she could even start her own business as a personal trainer. She was about to make another cup of coffee for herself and sit down to review the information Ivy had given her when she heard a crash from the direction of the master bedroom. She nearly dropped her mug.

“Ivy?” The shout reverberated through the house.

Oh, hell. What a way to start the day.

She put her cup on the counter and hurried down the hall.

“Ivy?” The roar came again.

“Ivy has left already,” Erin said, pushing open the door to the master suite. “But I’m here. I’m—”

She stopped, shock freezing her in place.

“Jake?”

“Erin?”

Erin was sure her heart would stop beating. There, sitting on the edge of the bed in all his nearly naked glory, was Jake Russell. Her hot, hot one-night stand. The man she had literally pushed out of her life before he could do the same to her.

Oh. My. God.

Jake’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck?”

Erin finally unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “My words exactly. Holy crap!” She pointed a finger at him. “You’re not Russ Jacobs.”

He glared at her. “And you’re not Anne Hardy.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Erin realized now what people meant by a deafening silence.

AMAZON   KOBO   ITUNES   BARNES & NOBLE   KENSINGTON  GOOGLE PLAY

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bang! The right title for Avery Flynn’s hot new book.
Wednesday, August 31st, 2016

Blurb:

Freelance investigator Isaac Camacho has a weakness for bitchy blondes, and no one fits the bill quite like former beauty queen and gold digger Tamara Post. She’s sexy, feisty and on the run from a cult leader. Complicated women? Oh he loves them almost as much as he loves watching Tamara act like a total ice queen when he knows she burns white hot. 

Calculating opportunist Tamara Post never cared what anyone thought about her—except for her sister. But when her sister dies, it’s up to Tamara to hide her teenage niece so the girl’s dictatorial father can’t marry her off to one of his disciples. The last thing Tamara has time for is Isaac—a man who flirts as well as he fills out a pair of worn jeans and whose stubborn determination to help makes it hard to act as if she’s really as cold as she appear. 

When the bad guys find her, there’s only one person Tamara can depend on to help keep her alive until her niece is safe. But once the life and death chase is on, it’s not just their lives Tamara and Isaac are risking…but their hearts.

Buy Links:

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Excerpt:

Isaac Camacho shouldn’t be noticing how good Tamara smelled. 

One, it was weird. He was, after all, hustling through the club’s hectic kitchen with one super-sexy, kinda bitchy blonde—his favorite kind—for parts unknown. He should be noticing her ass under that swishy green skirt, not something lame like the fact that she smelled like peach tea spiked with bourbon. 

Two, they were dodging steaming pots and hot plates because ugly-as-roadkill bounty hunter Archie Wolczyk was hot on their heels. Even if his former life as a Recon Marine hadn’t taught him the importance of survival, his stint in the county jail should have been more than enough to get an important lesson through even his thick skull: Being locked up in the pokey wasn’t his style. 

So instead of getting distracted by her perfume, he needed to get them both out of here before he ended up separated from the love of his life—women, all of them—for whatever stretch of jail time the judge decided aiding and abetting a fugitive deserved.

“Left.” He pressed his palm against the small of her back, noting that his hand spanned almost the entirety of her waist, and guided her past the walk-in fridge and toward the employee break room. 

She followed directions but shot him a quick glare over her shoulder. 

Prickly little ice queen, wasn’t she? 

As they hurried through the break room, he ignored the surprised faces of the staff members swapping out street shoes for clogs, but gave a quick wink to the sous chef who’d given him the after-hours all-access kitchen tour a few weeks ago. Stephanie? Stacy? Selena? Sarah. That was it. Then almost as fast as he and Tamara had rushed into the break room, they were out the reinforced steel door and into the fenced-in part of the parking lot. It stank of cooking grease and rotting food from the nearby pair of Dumpsters that had been broiling in the Texas heat for the past few days. He peeked over the privacy fence, scanning the lot for the bounty hunter’s backup. He spotted a couple getting out of a sedan, a valet sneaking a smoke, and a stray cat with one ear slinking between the cars.

Nothing of consequence stood between them and his truck, which was combat parked just outside the gate, ready as always for a quick getaway. He unlocked the doors with his key fob and opened the passenger door, then held out his hand to help Tamara up onto the running board. She was tall, but his oversized tires—perfect for off-roading—were no joke. 

“No way.” She took a step back, as if she could still escape.

It was cute. 

“We don’t have time for me to sweet-talk you, darlin’, so let me put it this way. You either get that fine ass of yours in the truck or I’ll expend the itty bitty amount of energy it would take for me to pick you up and flop you down in there.”

The start of a snarl curled up one side of her mouth and she took another step back. “Look, I appreciate you giving me the heads up about the bounty hunter, but I don’t know you and there’s no way in hell I’m getting in your truck.”

So, plan B it was.

“Okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “You’ve got an excellent point there.”

The tension yanking her shoulders closer to her ears than they should be ebbed and her shoulders inched down a bit. That’s when he scooped her up in his arms, pivoted, and dumped her into the passenger seat all before she’d even gotten a chance to let out a yelp.

“Why you—”

“Heavy-handed asshole?” He grabbed the seatbelt and dragged it down across her chest. “Giant prick?” He clicked it into place, resisting the urge to let his fingers linger on the sliver of silky skin between the top of her skirt and the bottom of her shirt that had become exposed when she’d twisted in his arms. “Handsome devil?” He flashed his patent-pending, panty-melting grin. “Big, strapping stud who can protect you?”

She didn’t even flutter her long lashes. “Jerk.”

“It’s more succinct, I’ll give you that.” He shut the door and circled the front of the truck, walking a little more bowlegged than normal. 

Meet Avery Flynn

Avery Flynn is an award winning romance author. She has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.

She was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.

Her links:

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What’s the real story about Bedroom Eyes?
Sunday, August 28th, 2016

$25 GC up for grabs. Just leave a comment

Preorder now. When I hit 1500 I will set up a rafflecopter for a big prize.

I had a very specific reason for writing this story. I hope you all fall in love with it the way I did.

Bridget Reilly hides what she sees as a deformity behind a pair of dark glasses. Fortunately, they also hide her lust for the gorgeous Navy SEAL living next door. When a masked ball provides an opportunity to enjoy a glorious night of anonymous erotic sex with the hottie of her dreams, she’s all over that. She soon realizes she’s replaced one disguise with another and revealing the truth is not an option.

Excerpt:

Bridget knew Clay was a SEAL, often deployed on missions for weeks at a time. He’d bought the house for the same reason she’d purchased hers—to have some permanence and stability in his life. Bridget figured she’d probably never have a home of her own otherwise and apartment living had just gotten too old for her. Clay said he wanted a place to unwind that was all his. A place where he could put down roots. Do whatever he wanted.

Every so often she’d see a woman in the backyard with him, or sitting beside him in his car as he backed out of the driveway. Tall, leggy brunettes and redheads, with typically classic good looks. The sound of their intimate laughter was a knife straight to her heart, because she knew she’d never share those kinds of moments with him. She dreaded the day he brought a wife home with him and she was forced to watch them wrapped in a haze of happiness and sexual satisfaction.

“Well.” She wiped her suddenly damp palms on her shorts. “I’d better go in.”perf5.000x8.000.indd

“Me, too. Big night tomorrow night.” But he made a faced as he said it.

“You don’t look like it’s too big. Or that you’re too happy about it.”

He shrugged. “My team captain happens to live in San Antonio, too, just by coincidence, and his wife is involved in some big charitable ball that’s going down tomorrow night. The one that kicks off Fiesta. He made everyone on the team who lives around here buy a ticket. Not only that, he insists that we have to go.”

And of course he’ll be going with a gorgeous piece of arm-candy.

“Surely your date will keep you from being too miserable.” There. That was the right casual tone, wasn’t it?

“No date.” He ran a palm over his hair. “No one I could ask to rent a costume and dress up for a masquerade. Bad enough I have to do it myself.”

“No gorgeous babe hanging around these days?” She hated herself for asking the question, no matter how casual she tried to make it.”

His laugh was humorless. “Not lately. Must be losing my charm. Or maybe it’s just that I’m starting to lose interest in all show and no go. I’ll just guts it out.”

Bridget nodded but both her mind and her heart were racing. She knew all about the Masquerade. Joni’s boss was also on the committee and Joni had been pestering Bridget for weeks to buy a ticket. The cheapest ones were a hundred bucks, though, and not something Bridget wanted to dig into her stash to buy.

But Clay was going without a date. Well, well, well. An outrageous idea was percolating wildly in her brain.

“So I guess you’ve got your costume then?”

“Yeah.” Lines of displeasure grooved his cheeks. “Thank god at least most of my face will be covered so there’s no chance anyone will recognize me.”

Bridget cocked her head, all kinds of possibilities suddenly speed-racing through her brain. “You have a full face mask?”

He nodded. “In a manner of speaking. I’m going as a pirate. Figured that wasn’t too embarrassing. Got a scarf thing to wrap over my head and a big black mask that matches it over my eyes.”

A pirate. Bridget filed that piece of information away in her mind.

“Women love pirates.” She hoped her tone was casual enough. “They’ll probably be hanging all over you.”

Clay snorted. “I doubt it. The women who show up at these things seldom come alone and the ones that do aren’t worth the price of a drink.”

“Maybe tomorrow night you’ll be surprised.” She wet her lips. “Tell you what. I’ll make a bet with you.”

“A bet?”

“Uh-huh. I predict you’ll meet a mysterious woman. She won’t even tell you her real name. She’ll tempt you and tease you and make you want to sweep her off her feet.”

Clay’s mouth kicked up in a grin. “That right? You guaranteeing it?”

“I said I’d bet with you, didn’t I?” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts, waiting tensely for his answer. “Well? You gonna put your money where your mouth is?”

He laughed. “Okay. A bet. Loser buys dinner.”

“You’re on.” She held out her hand.

Clay’s grip was firm and warm. Bridget had expected that, but she hadn’t been prepared for the jolt of electricity that sizzled up her arm and through her body. She pulled her hand back quickly, doing her best to ignore the gleam of mischief in Clay’s eyes.

“I certainly hope so,” he teased.

Bridget’s cheeks turned hot. This was just harmless flirting, something Clay probably did as naturally as he breathed. But for her this was a scarce commodity. Once men got a look at her eyes all flirting was off the table.

“I-I have to go.” She hurried up the driveway, calling over her shoulder, “Good luck. And I expect a full report.”

“If it turns out the way you predict,” he answered, “don’t look for too many details.”

If only this works.

”Confession time day after tomorrow, okay? We’ll meet over the fence.”

“Only long enough so I can tell you where I want you to take me for dinner. Get ready for an expensive meal.”

“We’ll see. “Night, now.”

She nearly ran into the house, her mind racing. She might never realize her goal of introducing herself in public as a published author but she at least had the possibility of one night with the man who filled her dreams. And one night was better than none.

 

AMAZON

BARNES & NOBLE

 

Elle and Delilah do it again!
Thursday, August 18th, 2016

WARRIOR’S CONQUEST

A Knightspell Tale

By Elle James & Delilah Devlin

 Warrior's ConquestFBAd

A twenty-first century woman transported to medieval times is forced to accept the protection of a beast of a sexy warlord as they struggle to survive in the middle of a war-torn land

 

Amazon | Amazon UK

 

With proportions that would make Xena weep, Jacqueline Frazier despairs of ever finding a lover she can’t intimidate. Until the day she ignores a warning regarding use of a family heirloom, and finds herself swept off her feet by a knight in not so shining armor, back to the twelfth century. Forced to accept the protection of an overbearing, beast of a man, Rufus of Rathburn, Jacq struggles to find her place in the past while seeking a way back to the future. In the meantime, she aids Rufus’s war cause with a little 21st century ingenuity, shaking up the warlord with lessons in bomb-making, guerilla tactics, and the joys of sex.

 

At first unwilling, and ungrateful, Rufus begins to see merit in Jacq’s odd ways. Through Jacq’s eccentricities and willfulness, Rufus learns she is a woman to be reckoned with, as well as a lusty handful in bed. Will his admiration of her cunning, strength and uninhibited sexuality grow into a love that breaks the barriers of time? And will their love be strong enough for Jacq to plot a different future in the past?

 

“… an exciting action-filled story that never drags and makes great escape reading. Kudos!”

Just Erotic Romance Reviews

 

“This book is a “must read” and definitely earned a place on my “keeper” shelf!”

EuroReviews

 

“For an enticing bit of action and romance wrapped within a time travel tale, pick up your copy … today and enjoy.”

Romance Reviews Today

 

 Excerpt:   Warrior's Conquest

 

“Damnation!”

Rufus landed on his rear at the entrance of his tent. He saw the silvery glint of stars for a moment before realizing the flashing metal was the water ewer bouncing away. Instinct saved him a second knot on his forehead as he threw up his arm to deflect the next object lobbed at his head. He rolled to his knees and lunged upwards to face his angry adversary.

His breath caught. She was magnificent! Her hair was in disarray around her shoulders, and her chest heaved with fury. Bright blotches of color stained her cheeks, and the determined set of her chin and narrowed eyes warned him this would not be an easy conquest.

And she had prepared well. His two war chests stood stacked one on top of the other, and he saw a number of objects on the ground beside her feet—ammunition for the battle to come. The chests stood as a shield between them.

“I take it you’re upset,” he said mildly.

Her lips curled back in a feral smile as she hefted the copper water basin.

Aware of her intent, he feinted to the left.

Jacq modified her aim before the bowl left her hand.

The copper vessel spun through the air and caught Rufus directly at his midsection. “Oomph!” He rubbed his stomach. She certainly didn’t throw like a girl. “You were placed under guard in this tent for your own protection,” he began, hoping to reason her out of her present course of action. He could easily overpower her but didn’t want to cause her harm, and he hoped the physical venting would aid both their libidos.

Her left hand balanced his helmet.

“Now, see here,” he protested. “I haven’t a smith with me to repair that.”

Her arm came back, and the helmet flew at his shoulder.

Instead of ducking, Rufus reached out to catch the heavy armor. While fumbling with both hands to keep the helmet from crashing to the floor, Rufus didn’t see her take advantage of his preoccupation to rearm. He felt another painful thud against his back and saw a stone roll away. “Enough!” he roared. His patience quickly dwindled as the bruises to his skin and pride accumulated. He leapt toward the barricade.

The tantalizing tempest circled, remaining just out of reach.

With a powerful swipe of his arm, he connected with the upper chest, flying it across the tent. He jumped over the remaining one only to stumble to his knees when her foot connected with his ankle. His curses blistered the air.

Then she had the nerve to laugh out loud, spinning out of reach.

A voice called to him from outside the tent. “Rufus, do you need aid?”

“Stay out of this, Donald.” He heard muffled guffaws and felt his face grow hot. He’d been tolerant long enough. “Cease, woman.” He rose to his feet, expecting another impact.

Instead, she faced him with his own sword held between her two hands.

“Don’t be foolish. If you choose to use that, you will not take two steps outside this tent without being cut down.”

She faced him calmly, her breath slowing as her hands moved on the pommel of the sword. Despite her bravado, her upper arms trembled with the effort of holding the weapon aloft.

“You will explain to me why you have made a shambles of my tent, and why you attacked me,” he demanded.

“You put that beast on me as a guard,” she yelled back.

He was relieved she at last broke her silence. Her quiet determination had begun to unnerve him. “I placed Beast there for your protection.” He needed to keep her talking while his mind sought a solution to this present coil.

“That’s his name?” She looked appalled then she shook herself. “He never left me.”

Irritated she didn’t seem to appreciate his care, he gritted out, “Those were my orders.”

“You ordered him to stay with me, even when I relieved myself?” Her voice rose toward the end.

Ahhh…he understood now. Her woman’s sensibilities had been offended. “His orders were to keep you in his sight at all times.”

“Well, your protection stinks. I don’t accept it any longer. You’ll provide me with a horse and weapons. I’m leaving.”

“You may leave when you tell me who you are and what you were doing on that battlefield yesterday. That is your only choice. And do not think I will let you ride out of here without escort.”

Her eyes narrowed and her hands tightened around the pommel. “Then you’d best be prepared for a battle, because I don’t accept the terms under which you hold me captive.”

“Woman, did this morning not teach you a lesson?” he asked, frustration pounding at his temple. “You need my protection. Or did you enjoy cavorting naked before a company of men?”

“Augh!” At last, her anger made her careless. Lunging toward him with upright sword, she managed a creditable swipe of the blade. He dodged it and stepped around the tent to keep outside her reach.

“Rufus, what is going on in there?” Donald’s worried face appeared at the opening.

Jacq turned toward the sound.

Rufus took advantage of her distraction to edge farther along the circumference of the tent. “Not now, Donald. As you can see, I am busy.”

She swung back, her gaze narrowing, her hands shifting on the hilt.

Donald’s eyebrows rose as his glance fell on the woman. “Well, Rufus, I will leave you to your game. Shout, if you need assistance.”

“Go!” Rufus ordered.

Donald disappeared behind the canvas, his laughter ringing out clearly in the early evening air.

Odds were, the whole camp would know in minutes that a woman held him at bay—with his own sword! “It seems, lady, we are at an impasse.”

“No, you’ll agree to my terms, or I’ll run you through.”

Her face appeared set, and he wondered if she truly had the courage to try. “Donald,” he yelled.

“Yes, Rufus?” came his answer through the tent walls.

“If you see the woman walks out of this tent first, you will not allow her to leave this camp.”

“If that woman walks out of the tent on her own two feet, I’ll wed her myself and breed sons on her.” Donald’s voice held amusement.

Rufus’ gaze never left hers, but he allowed an eyebrow to quirk upward.

Jacq’s face reddened, and her eyes betrayed a hint of moisture. “I can do this.”

“Madam, you have the advantage at the moment, but only because I allow it.”

“You allow it? I hold your sword.” Her voice shook along with the hands drooping under the continuous strain of holding the heavy weapon.

“You have one more chance to put down my sword and talk to me about this, or I will take it from you.”

“I dare you to try—”

That was all the encouragement Rufus needed. He lunged.

Jacq stepped backward, only to catch the backs of her knees on the overturned chest directly behind her. She flailed her arms outwards, choosing to lose the sword rather than risk impaling herself.

The weapon thudded against the hard-packed earth.

But Jacq never hit the ground.

Rufus caught her and pulled her up tightly against his chest.

 

Before her mind could tell her she should resist, her back was to the square wooden beam that served as the center tent pole. She was trapped once more by his overwhelming strength. For a few moments, she struggled. Eventually, her puny attempts ceased, and she conceded, slumping wearily against him. She dragged air into her lungs and forced up her gaze to meet his, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing defeat stamped on her face.

He held her easily, subduing her.

She recognized the awesome power of his muscled arms and thighs. She’d never stood a chance.

“Rufus, talk to me. It’s too quiet in there. Is all well?” Donald asked.

“Yes, I have her now.”

“Well, then I’ll go on to dinner. Unless, that is, you need help…”

“No, I have everything well in hand,” he answered evenly.

His gaze remained on her, his face betraying no emotion. Jacq worried now the fire of her self-righteous anger was banked. What reprisal would he seek against her for the attack?

His breathing was even, and other than a slight flush across his cheeks, he appeared unaffected.

She wished she could say the same, but that odd combination of fear and excitement thrummed along her veins. Her breaths shortened and her body softened, yielding to his. Molten liquid dampened the juncture of her thighs, and she was helpless to stop the slight undulation of her hips.

His nostrils flared as if sensing her ripening arousal.

When he leaned ever so slightly closer, her head fell back to grant him access to her mouth. Through half-closed eyes, she watched him stare at her mouth, and she wantonly slid her tongue in a circle to wet her lips. She heard his groan a moment before his lips slammed down on hers.

For an angry kiss, it was a doozy. She learned his taste while battling for control of this joining. They parried—mouths open, tongues stabbing.

Then something happened that shifted the kiss from another battle between steel-willed adversaries to a burning need to brand and possess each other.

His palms captured her cheeks and held her captive while his mouth ate hers, his lips dragging over hers in drugging circles.

Jacq mewled and tugged at his hair, her tongue sliding against his, lapping and sucking, until they were both breathless.

He ground his ripening cock against her lower belly, and she relented, widening her legs to make room for him to step between. His hands raked her skirt upward, then his knees dipped slightly, and her feet left the ground.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and lifted her legs to encircle his waist.

They both groaned into each other’s mouths as their bodies met with only the fabric of his braies separating their straining loins.

Held high against him, her body open to his, she rubbed her moistening pussy along his length, entering a rhythm matched by their circling mouths. Jacq’s world narrowed to that burning juncture where Rufus rutted against her, the fabric chafing her tender flesh.

Animalistic grunts and groans rose between them.

Mindless now, Jacq forgot why she shouldn’t be doing this with him. She forgot she didn’t even like him—her body adored him.

His hands cupped her buttocks, squeezed and released, over and over, encouraging her to rub frantically up and down against his cock.

Suddenly clothes were too confining, and she was desperate to feel the steel of his shaft inside her. She broke the kiss. “Please!” she gasped, even as her hips rolled again.

The muscles of his buttocks bunched beneath her heels as he straightened with her in his arms and walked the short steps to her pallet. He knelt, holding her pressed to him, and lay her down amid the furs.

She writhed against him and repeated in a long, keening wail, “Please, now, Rufus.”

He rose up on his knees and dragged her bliaut over her head. Then he rent the neck opening of her borrowed shirt to the waist, shoving the ragged edges aside to expose her breasts. Rufus leaned over her and nuzzled her breast. “Jacq,” he groaned, and his mouth opened over one straining crest. He sucked it hard into his mouth.

She nearly screamed from the pleasure. But still too many clothes were between them. She wanted to touch skin.

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

 

ELLE JAMES and DELILAH DEVLIN are sisters! That’s right, they’re sisters who began their author journey in 2000, co-authoring this and four other books. Since then, they have branched out to write their own books, in their own worlds, becoming New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors. To learn more about the sisters visit them at ellejames.com and delilahdevlin.com