Hey there, Smutkedettes-
We’re so happy to celebrate V-Day with all of you-and to help us, we have a bunch of our fabulous and amazing author friends sharing their excerpts (some are hot, some are not, but they’re all aweome) and offering up some very cool prizes-and we’re adding in some groovy Smutketeers goodies at the end, so be sure to read through and comment to enter!
Here’s our V-Day lineup:
In your comment, just let us know if there’s an author in our V-Day lineup you haven’t read yet (and yes, you’re welcome to name one of the Smutketeers if you’re new to our site)-and you’re welcome to add any other V-Day wishes, favorite ways to celebrate-let’s talk about romance! We’ll announce our list of winners tomorrow night! Oh, and BTW-each winner will also receive a sampler package of lovely lube from Wet products, our official/unofficial sponsor for this V-Day bash!
Hey-we *are* the Smutketeers, after all!
Eden/Eve, R.G./Rachel, Crystal and Karen
Hello everyone and Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you have a special someone to celebrate with this year. And if you don’t, like ME, then maybe you’re also like me and will be wanting to read some sexy romances to get through the hearts and flowers day (Week? Or is it month now? I think I saw the pink stuff hit the stores in January this year) in good spirits. And if you do have a Valentine of your own, maybe you need some sexy romances to get you in the right mood ;-) That’s what I was thinking when I wrote SWEETEST SEDUCTION, my novella that released on February 10th. Enjoy!
Val’s been Keith’s accountant for nearly a year. She dreams about his body pressed into hers, but there’s no need to let him in on that fact. The hunky photographer spends his days with beautiful models, there’s absolutely no way she’s going to compete with that. Even if he has been throwing hints her way. She’s satisfied with her vibrator and her daydreams of her favorite client. Mostly.
Keith is fed up with trying to sweet-talk his accountant into going out with him. It’s Valentine’s Day, and knowing Val, she doesn’t have any plans beyond putting in a full day’s work. No more asking nicely, he’s just going to plan the day his way and pull her along until she gets with the program. He’s sure once she sees he can give her a proper date she’ll see that he might just be the man for her. And a proper date includes lots of touching. And exploring. And toys of a battery-operated nature.
“Happy V-Day, Sweetheart!”
“Hi, Mom.” Valerie rolled over in bed, eyes closed, holding the phone to her ear. Every year her mother called her on her birthday at the crack of dawn, otherwise known as seven-thirty, to remind her that she’d been born.
“I went to church this morning and lit a candle for you.”
“Great, Mom, thanks.” Sally Patrelli had been lighting candles for her daughter for many years and for many reasons. Val was pretty sure that today’s candle would involve her having reached such an advanced age without securing a husband.
“What are you doing special today?” her mother asked.
This prompted a sigh. Sally was a master at mother’s sighs. “Yes, dear, but what are you doing after? It is Valentine’s Day, you know, and a Friday too. What could be better?”
As if she could ever forget. As if her mother had ever let her forget once, in twenty-eight years.
“No plans, Mom. Maybe something will come up later in the day.”
“Val, you’ve got to work to get what you want. You can’t just sit back and expect it to come to you.”
An image of what Val wanted popped into her head. Long, muscular legs clad in faded blue jeans that hugged a tight ass. Bare, muscled chest with a small peppering of hair, framed by well-defined arms that led to wide shoulders. And on those shoulders. Oh man, oh man. Light-brown hair, hazel-green eyes with flecks of gold and the most kissable lips…
“Val? Honey, did you fall back asleep? Shouldn’t you be up by now?” Her mother’s voice broke into her daydreams. Well, they weren’t really daydreams if he was real, were they? Sweet memories of the last time she’d seen Keith Robinson had her licking her lips until the interruption snapped her back to reality.
“Yeah, Mom, I need to be getting up. I’ll see you Sunday, for dinner.”
“All right, sweetheart. You know I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who knows how special you are. I love you, happy birthday.”
“I know, Mom. Thanks, I love you too.”
Hanging up, she considered whether it was too late to get back to sleep. She wasn’t a morning person, never had been. Finding a job that allowed her to work from home with flexible hours had been an ambition, not an accident. She never minded putting the hours in as long as she got to choose when and where. Being an accountant contracted with four small, local companies worked perfectly for her.
Damn, she was too awake now to go back to sleep. The romance she was reading sat next to the phone but she wasn’t interested in a paperback hero right now. Thoughts of Keith always left her hot and bothered so she tried not to think about her sexiest client too often. Thinking led to dreams of what if, which was a road she didn’t need to travel. The man was a fashion photographer. He spent hours each day studying the most beautiful women in the world, so when she met with him she had to remind herself constantly that his friendly flirtations were meaningless.
He was a good guy, she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her, but the nicer he was to her the worse she felt. It hadn’t been so bad when he’d first hired her to keep his accounts. Polite and professional, he’d given her no reason not to take him on as a client. But she never felt as inadequate and lonely as she did when she left his presence. He was so attentive, so vibrant, that when she was with him she felt beautiful and funny. Once she left though, she came crashing down with the reminder that he was just a nice guy who didn’t understand that interacting with him was the closest she got to a relationship.
God, she was so pathetic! Instead of picking up the book, she dragged herself out of bed and headed for a shower. It was the one thing she demanded of herself in order to work from home, besides putting in the forty hours a week. She had to take a shower before she was allowed her first cup of coffee. And since she couldn’t function without that first cup of coffee, it was her way of ensuring she didn’t spend all day, every day in her pajamas.
She pulled off her shower cap and scrunched in some product, then wrapped her still-damp body in her comfiest robe before going to the automatic coffee machine in the kitchen and pouring that first blissful cup. A healthy dose of creamer later, she took a deep inhale that had her closing her eyes to enjoy the fabulous aroma before she took a sip. Welcome to twenty-eight, she thought ruefully. Then she ordered herself back into the bedroom to get dressed and face the day.
* * * * *
Keith took a deep breath and picked up the phone. His patience was at an end and he wasn’t waiting any longer. It was time to take action. His beautiful accountant had been ignoring his flirtations for long enough. If she’d told him she had a boyfriend or even just didn’t like him that way, he would have moved on, been satisfied being friends with her. Maybe. Well, okay, maybe not, but it didn’t matter, because she didn’t have a boyfriend and no matter how much she pretended they were just friends, he knew she was interested in him.
They had an easy rapport most of the time. Especially when she forgot herself and relaxed. It was so frustrating. She would be coasting along, enjoying his company, and suddenly snap to some realization that put her on edge and nervous again. And she would run from him. Again. Drove him crazy.
He’d tried getting to know her better as friends, but she seemed determined to keep everything work-related. He’d asked her out but she’d practically run from him. No more. If he had to watch her one more day without being able to touch that gorgeous skin he was going to lose his mind. He’d spent too many hours trying to decide exactly what color her skin was. He figured her Italian last name explained the olive tint to the soft brown, but he’d never asked. Because he didn’t care. He just wanted to touch. And taste.
He dialed the number he knew by heart, shaking his head in disgust at himself. How many times had he dragged her here unnecessarily so that he could see her? Well, he was going to do it one more time and if she escaped him again, he was giving up.
The phone rang and she answered with a voice still a little rough from sleep. He suppressed a groan at the picture of her getting out of bed. A well-tossed bed from all the activity he wanted to indulge in with her, her long black curls framing her pixie face. Full lips that never failed to inspire him to… Concentrate, damn it, he needed to concentrate.
“Val, it’s Keith. I hate to bother you but is there any way you can come over here this morning?” He intentionally left out any mention of her helping him in a work-related capacity. If she wanted to assume that based on similar calls he’d made, well…that’s why assumptions could get you into trouble.
She cleared her throat. “Today? Well, yeah, I guess I could do that.”
“About eleven, if it’s convenient. Please?” He wasn’t opposed to a little bit of begging to get what he wanted.
“Sure, all right. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Val, you’re the best.” He hung up before his eagerness betrayed him. He had a few preparations to make.
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A FREE Valentine’s Day read from Juniper Bell-what else can a devoted reader ask for? You can download it HERE!
Dana Arthur has found the job of her dreams … if her two sexy bosses are satisfied with her performance. On her very first business trip — which just happens to be on Valentine’s Day — Ethan and Simon intend to show Dana just how much the firm of Cowell & Dirk appreciates her.
“We’ll send a car to pick you up around noon, Dana. The driver will have instructions for you,” Simon said on the phone.
Instructions. I’d never liked that word at Long Island Community College, but as an employee of Cowell & Dirk, I’d warmed up to it. Simon and Ethan’s ‘instructions’ usually resulted in screaming orgasms all around. Why argue with that? “Will I like them?”
He chuckled. “Behave yourself and you’ll be fine. I’ll see you in Salt Lake, sweet.” Simon hung up. I lay back on my futon, still cuddling the phone.
‘Sweet.’ The sexiest man in the world called me ‘sweet.’ Could life get any better? Hard to believe that three months ago, I’d been an unemployed slacker living at home dodging empty gin bottles. Gin being my stepmom’s drink of choice. My father went for Scotch. Yet another thing they fought about.
But those days were over. Now I had my own place (about the size of one of those gin bottles, but still, it was mine.) And I had a job. I was the receptionist for the firm of Cowell & Dirk. As such, I answered phones and performed other duties as required by my two bosses, who happened to have some very naughty demands. The job kept me on my toes.
And occasionally on my knees. Or other parts of my anatomy not usually put to use in an office job. But this was no ordinary job, as I’d learned on my first day of work. I still remembered what Simon had me wear, and how he put me up against the window and…
No time for flashbacks. I had to get ready for my first business trip. Ethan Cowell and Simon Dirk were going to Salt Lake City for a conference. And they wanted me to go with them! My three-month anniversary and my first business trip on the same day. It was like Christmas, payday and a sale at Inktation Tattoo rolled into one. My only regret was my workaholic bosses had scheduled the trip for February 14. But what was I expecting? Candy hearts and flowers? This was a business, after all.
The next day, a slick black car showed up outside my building, scattering broken glass and homeless guys. It drove Simon crazy that I still lived in such a crappy neighborhood, but I liked it. I didn’t know if I could sleep without police sirens and the occasional gang battle.
“Ms. Arthur?” The driver got out of the car and held the door open for me.
“That’s me.” I sailed into the car like the Queen of England. Make that the Princess of Long Island.
“Mr. Dirk told me to give this to you.” He handed me a white box. I knew those white boxes. Some of my kinkiest outfits came in those boxes.
As soon as we were mobile and the driver’s attention was otherwise occupied, I opened the box. A note lay on top of pink tissue paper. “Please wear these for the rest of the trip. SD.”
Under the tissue I found the softest, filmiest red silk stockings ever seen in Lowlife, Long Island. And an old-style lacy garter belt to hold them up. And nothing else. Oh, that Simon. He wanted me to get on a plane bare-pussied, wearing nothing under my skirt but garters and stockings. Wouldn’t I flash the other passengers every time I crossed my legs?
Just follow instructions. I inched off my panties, hoping the driver didn’t notice me squirming around in the back seat. Pointless, because as soon as I’d put on the stockings and garter, and felt the cool air brush my pussy, he reached his hand over the seat. “Mr. Dirk wants the old ones.”
Talk about mortified. I handed him my panties, which he stuffed into a manila envelope. Not only did this stranger have my panties, he probably knew how exposed I was. Even so, I felt a tingling in my pussy, an itch that made me squirm against the leather seat.
“None of that now,” said the driver. “Mr. Dirk’s orders.”
I froze. WTF? I was about to tell the driver to back the F off, then I remembered that Cowell & Dirk liked to put video cameras everywhere. One might be pointed at me right now. Simon might be watching, or Ethan. Or both. Heat flashed in my pussy, but I sat still and carefully kept my legs apart. I didn’t want them to see me disobeying orders at the start of my first business trip.
By the time I boarded the plane, I was cursing my devilish employers. From the car to the security line to the long walk down the terminal to my gate, every step reminded me I was bare and wet down there. I swear the TSA agents looked at me funny, like they wanted to strip-search me right there on the scanner. The ache in my sex was seriously distracting. I wasn’t scheduled to meet up with Simon and Ethan for another six hours. Would I make it? Maybe I could relieve a little pressure in the privacy of my seat with a discreet wiggle or two.
Lo and behold, I got to fly business class. Which meant my seat was front and center. No getting away with anything there. I sank into the cushy seat and reminded myself that it was pretty freakin’ cool to go business class, especially for someone like me who’d only been on a plane once, for my grandmother’s funeral. I’d gone standby on a discount airline and someone had stolen my carry-on bag from the overhead compartment.
When we were airborne, the flight attendant—they must put the really busty ones in business class—handed out plastic glasses of champagne for those who wanted it. I definitely wanted it. Maybe alcohol would dull the hunger between my legs. After she served everyone, she came back to me.
“Ms. Dana Arthur?” She was blond and strict, like Heidi Klum booting someone off Project Runway. Had she seen what I was wearing, or not wearing, under my skirt? Was I about to get kicked out of business class for inappropriate attire?
“Yes, that’s me.”
“This is from Mr. Cowell.” She handed me a white box.
Holy department store! Had they bought out Long Island’s entire lingerie supply? I snatched the box from her.
“Mr. Cowell gave me this too.” She showed me a small digital camera. “He’s expecting a photo. He wants to make sure you’re following instructions.”
“Then we have no problem. Come along.”
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The fab PG Forte, member of our friends the Nine Naughty Novelists is up next with her Valentine’s Day-themed book, SOUND OF A VOICE THAT IS STILL (Oberon, book 3)!
Sometimes it seems like Spring will never come again.
It’s been four months since Ryan Henderson was wounded in the line of duty. He’s a patient man, but a poor patient. As winter drags interminably on, he’s growing desperate for distraction–anything that might take his mind off his injury, before he goes insane.
Siobhan Quinn could give the injured officer a lesson or two in living with pain. In the ten years since the tragic accident that robbed her of her family, she’s learned firsthand how grief can cripple a soul and drive a sane mind over the edge.
Siobhan practically tore her shirt getting it over her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this angry. So, this was what he wanted now, was it? Not just sex, but cheap, meaningless sex? Well, fine, then. She’d had plenty of meaningless sex–years of it, in fact. And if that was what he wanted, then that’s what they’d have. Except…it wouldn’t really be meaningless, would it? Not for her.
Somehow, that only made it worse.
Her hands stilled on the button of her jeans. Why did it have to be like this? What was she doing here, anyway? Why not just salvage what she could of her pride and her self-respect and get the hell out of here right this minute?
But she knew why not. She could deny it all she wanted, but that wouldn’t change the truth. Like it or not, she was in love with him. And locked in his arms was the only place she wanted to spend tonight, no matter how little it might mean to him.
And it couldn’t mean much, could it? She’d given him plenty of opportunities to tell her otherwise, to admit that there was more between them than sex and food and friendship. He’d ignored every one.
It would be easy to pretend that he was simply incapable of loving anyone, but she knew better. It might not be today and it might never be with her, but someday he would fall in love. He was far too loving a person not to. For all his rough edges, for all the pig-headed insensitivity that made her want to brain him occasionally, he was still one of the best men she’d ever known.
He was solid and dependable–gentle in ways he probably didn’t even realize he was capable of being–and so damn tender at times that it brought tears to her eyes. She only hoped that, if she had to let him go to someone else, it would at least be to someone who’d appreciate that about him. Who’d see how wonderful he was, how special. Someone who could give him all the love and the happiness he deserved.
In the meantime, screw pride and self-respect. She’d take whatever she could get, whatever he was willing to give her.
She heard the door open and close quietly behind her, and her heart began to beat wildly. She had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing. Had to force herself to stand still and not turn around, not throw herself at him and beg him to love her.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, one across her chest, the other at her waist, and pulled her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His voice was low, dark–like the echo of thunder from miles away. She shivered at the sound of it, and at the feel of his skin, warm against her own. Turning, she wrapped her own arms around his waist and buried her face in his shirt as tears stung her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Siobhan. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I swear. I was just-”
“No.” She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need. Really.”
“Well– No, I think there is,” he muttered, sounding very unhappy. “Because-”
“No,” she repeated. “I mean it, Ryan. Forget about it. I learned a long time ago not to feel ashamed of my sex drive. Or embarrassed. And you shouldn’t either. Things like that…well, they are what they are. That’s all. You can’t change them. There’s a lot about ourselves that we can’t change, no matter how much we might want to. Like what you feel, or don’t feel, for another person. So there’s no point in being sorry about it.”
He sighed, and she could feel his whole body tense. His arms felt like bands of steel encircling her. “Look, Siobhan, about the way I feel–”
But she didn’t want to hear about that again. Couldn’t bear for him to tell her once more how, although he cared for her, he didn’t want there to be any pressure. Couldn’t stand the thought of being stripped of all her illusions in one night. Or of having to lie to him again, telling him that she felt the same way, when what she really wanted—
She tightened her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t have what she really wanted, so there was no point in even thinking about it. “Please, Ryan, don’t! Can’t we just please, please, stop talking now?”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. “Yes. If that’s really what you want. You know I’ll do anything you want, Siobhan. Don’t you?”
She raised her head to gape at him, barely able to contain the hysterical laughter that bubbled up inside her. Would he really? Oh, dear God, if he only knew what he was saying! “And you think you know me well enough to know what I want? Is that what you’re saying?”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t say that. But–”
She felt her smile grow wider. “Then you can’t possibly promise it to me, can you?”
“Siobhan, I only meant–”
She put her fingers to his lips. “Stop. We’ve been doing really good so far. Don’t mess things up now by making promises you don’t intend to keep. Besides,” she said, as she drew him towards the bed, “You know what I want right at this moment? I want you to make me feel good, Ryan. Just like you said you would.” She sank down onto the mattress and pulled him down on top of her. “You think you can do that for me? Hmm?”
He looked at her, his eyes burning into hers with so intense an expression she felt her heart begin to pound. Suddenly she didn’t know what to expect. Her breath stuck in her chest and she felt herself shrink away from him when he leaned in closer. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her still. Then he kissed her. Softly. Slowly. Deeply. A kiss that seemed to go on forever. A kiss of such hot, melting sweetness that she lost all of the nervousness that had seized her, along with what was left of her breath.
When he finally raised his head, he was smiling. A small smile that hinted at a sadness she couldn’t comprehend and didn’t have time to wonder about. “Yes, Siobhan. I can do that.”
* * * * *
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Be sure to visit PG’s website! You can buy SOUND OF A VOICE THAT IS STILL now on Amazon for Kindle or in print, or on B&N for Nook!
Happy Valentine’s Day! May your day be filled with chocolate, champagne and most of all, love.
Who says you can only score on the court?
Black & White Collection
Trey Donovan is mourning the end of summer with fellow teachers when Ellie Hunter walks into Tully’s Bar. Better yet, she’s now a former rival basketball coach and the newest science teacher at his high school. He can’t think of anyone better to fill the vacant assistant coach job. In fact, if he plays his cards right, she might end up his perfect match off the court, too.
If she stops holding him at arm’s length long enough to give him a chance.
Coming off a year of bad decisions that not only broke her heart, but cost her a job, Ellie has good reason to swear off workplace romances. Her undeniable—and undeniably mutual—attraction to Trey is a serious threat to her resolve. Especially since Trey’s too-easy capitulation to her boundaries stings just a little too much.
Funny thing, though. When she sees Trey dancing with someone else, the edges of her vision turn decidedly green. And when another man tries to kiss Ellie, Trey sees red.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to fudge the rules. Just a little. After all, casual sex doesn’t count. Right?
Warning: Lots of red-hot, half-dressed court presses complete with sex toys, food, bubble baths, strip poker and, oh yeah, balls.
Ellie laughed as Trey led her down the hallway toward his kitchen. “I thought we were going out for Valentine’s Day.”
Since leaping the friendship-to-casual-dating hurdle over Christmas, Trey and Ellie had been inseparable. While they spent weeknights apart, they took turns staying at each other’s houses on the weekends. Trey was still nagging her about finding a new place to live, but between working and coaching and having the best sex of her life with him, Ellie was pressed to find the time to house hunt
Trey shrugged. “I don’t remember saying anything about going out. Just said we were going to celebrate the day together.
Ellie gasped when they entered the kitchen. Trey had spread a thick quilt on the floor. In the middle of the blanket were a bottle of champagne, two glasses, strawberries and a bowl of chocolate sauce. “Holy crap,” she said, turning to look at him. “You are the most romantic man I’ve ever met in my life.”
He laughed. “Why do you sound surprised?”
“Because you’re such a jock. I never would have guessed…” She pointed at the dreamy setup, unable to find the words to describe how touched she was by his gesture. “This is perfect.”
“Perfect hasn’t even started yet. Sit down.”
She dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged on one corner of the quilt. Trey plopped next to her.
She started to reach for a strawberry, but Trey smacked her hand away. “Actually, I have a confession to make.”
She frowned. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I wasn’t going for romantic. I was going for kinky.”
She snorted. “Oh my God. That’s not good.”
He shook his head and reached behind him. When he pulled out a blindfold, she changed her mind.
“On the other hand,” she started.
Trey laughed, reaching up to tie the cloth around her eyes. Sparks of arousal flared. She’d never been blindfolded during sex before. Without her sense of sight, her other senses awakened. She started slightly when his hands touched her chest.
“Easy,” he said. “I’m going to take off your blouse.”
She sat still as he removed her top and her bra. The slight chill and nervous anticipation tightened her nipples.
“Lift up a bit.”
She obeyed his command as he worked her skirt and panties over her hips. She marveled at his abilities. Within twenty minutes of arriving at his house, he had her naked and blindfolded on his kitchen floor. She was like putty in his hands and she loved it.
The sound of the champagne cork popping drew her from her thoughts and she heard the soft sizzle of the fizzy wine being poured. Trey lifted her arm and placed the glass in her hand. She heard a soft clink as he tapped his glass to hers.
“To us,” he whispered.
She smiled and sipped, the bubbles tickling her nose. She was surprised when he took the glass away from her. “Hey, I wanted some more.”
“You’ll get it. Don’t worry.” He followed up his promise with a kiss. She was addicted to his lips. The man certainly knew his way around her mouth. For two months, he’d drugged her with long, slow, tantalizing brushes of his lips against hers. At other times, he’d sneak up on her at work, stealing quick, hard kisses that left her light-headed.
Something touched her lips and she smelled the sweet scent of a strawberry.
“Open up,” he urged.
She parted her lips, letting Trey feed her a bit of the juicy fruit. After she swallowed it, he placed the champagne glass to her mouth and she took a sip of the tart liquid, reveling in the contrasting flavors.
He fed her two more strawberries, alternating each bite with a drink of the sparkling wine.
“How about something sweeter?” Until he spoke, she’d failed to realize how quiet it was in the house. It felt as if they were the only two people on the planet.
Trey rubbed something along her lower lip and she instantly smelled the chocolate. Her tongue darted out to lick it, but he stopped her.
“No,” he said, leaning close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. “That’s mine.”
He ran his tongue along her lip before sharing the treat with her, kissing her deeply. Twice more, he painted her lips with chocolate, devouring it with the sweetest kisses of her life.
He pressed his forehead against hers. “You taste delicious. Lay back. I want more.”
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You can visit Mari’s website for more info about her Black and White collection and all her other books! Buy SLAM DUNK now on Amazon or B&N!
Next up is a Valentine’s Day story, SWEETHEART IN HIGH HEELS, from our dear friend Gemma Halliday! Gemma doesn’t write erotic romance, but the comical adventures of her infamous heroine Maddie Springer have kept us laughing for years-and her hero, the dark and brooding Ramirez is hot enough to make our toes curl! We’re secretly hoping some day she’ll write a sex scene just for us…a girl’s gotta hope, right?
Being the wife of a cop isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially when dead bodies keep ruining your romantic dinner plans. But fashion designer turned amateur sleuth Maddie Springer is determined that her husband’s latest case, dubbed the “Sex Shop Murder”, will not keep him
from celebrating their first anniversary together, which just happens to fall on the most romantic of all holidays, Valentine’s Day. She’s ready to do whatever it takes to make this night special and distraction-free – even if it means solving his case herself!
“He left you alone at Giseppi’s?” My best friend, Dana, stared at me with wide, unbelieving eyes as she cranked her elliptical up to nine.
I nodded. ”Yes. Again,” I added for emphasis. I took a long sip from my water bottle. Even though my machine was only on four, I was sweating twice as hard as Dana. To say I was a regular at the gym would be a bigger exaggeration than calling Snookie a celebrity. Usually it took an act of God or a too tight favorite pair of jeans to get me here. But when Dana had called me that morning, I’d been in the mood to blow off a little steam, and the gym seemed like as a good a place as any to do that. So, I’d relented. A decision I was having serious second thoughts about now as I sweated a river.
“Geeze, Maddie, I’m so sorry. I know you were looking forward to a night out finally.”
“And you know what’s even worse?” I added.
“It gets worse?”
“He didn’t even come home last night. Called from the station around midnight saying he was pulling another all-nighter. That’s three this week. I swear I fall asleep to Conan more than I sleep with my husband.”
“Dude. Sucks,” Dana said, shaking her head in sympathy as she ratcheted her machine up another notch.
“Tell me about it,” I mumbled.
“Oh, hey! I know what will cheer you up,” Dana said.
“Shopping. You picked out your awards dress yet?’ she asked.
Last year I had been lucky enough to land a gig as the shoe designer for a period film that was nominated for a Viewer’s Choice Award for best picture. Not that I, as the lowly shoe designer, would get an award if we won, but it had garnered me an invitation to the red carpet event – my very first.
I nodded. ”Yep. I decided to go with the vintage Versace.”
“The black one?”
“With the rhinestones.”
“So pretty,” Dana cooed.
“And, I designed the perfect shoes to go with them. They just arrived yesterday. Gorgeous.”
Dana let out a girlie “eek!” and scrunched up her shoulders. ”I can’t wait to see them!”
“Okay, enough about me,” I said, the thought of red caret fashion pulling me out of my pity-party for one. ”Tell me about your night out with Ricky.”
Dana rolled her eyes. ”Ugh. Where to even begin?”
“That good, huh?”
“Well, Ricky had this thing to go to on Wilshire. Some big shot producer’s birthday party. But the paparazzi must have got wind of it somehow, because they chased us all the way from his place in Hollywood to the event. It was like we had our own parade with flash bulbs going off all over the place.”
Dana was dating Ricky Montgomery, the movie star. He’d started his career on the primetime drama Magnolia Lane, playing a gardener so hunky that every desperate housewife on the street lusted after him. But three seasons in, his character had been killed in a Homeowner’s Association riot, and Ricky had moved on to film roles, the latest of which had just launched him from supporting actor to full-fledged leading man status. On the up side, he’d been able to pull some strings and get Dana a part playing opposite him, meaning that my actress slash aerobics instructor best friend had finally been able to drop the slash aerobics instructor part of her job description. On the downside, she’d been featured on TMZ twice already with less-than-flattering photos of her leaving Ricky’s place early in the morning, post-party and pre-coffee. Living in the public eye had its price. (Even if that price was in the millions per picture.)
“But was the party good?” I asked, huffing as I lowered my machine down a level.
Dana shrugged. ”I guess. I mean, it was all business, you know? Schmoozing with the right agents, rubbing elbows with the right producers. I never thought partying would be so much work. But at least Ricky made it up to me when we got back to his place.”
She grinned. But then must have seen the look on envy my face, as she quickly said. ”Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Look, I’m sure Ramirez will make it up to you soon, too.”
“That’s what he keeps promising,” I agreed, though I had my doubts about his ability to make good on that promise before his captain called him in again.
“Well, what about Valentine’s Day?” Dana asked. ”Surely you guys have something special planned?”
I nodded. ”Definitely.”
Not only was this coming Saturday our first Valentine’s Day together as a married couple, but it was also our first anniversary. Yes, we’d gotten married on the most romantic holiday of all. And I was determined that our first anniversary would top it.
“I rented us a room at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. The honeymoon suite. Complete with champagne, caviar, and a hot tub for two.”
“Ooooo,” Dana said. ”Very romantic.”
“The only problem,” I told her, “is that I have no idea what to get Ramirez for a Valentine’s anniversary gift.”
“Lingerie?” she suggested.
“That’s more for me, isn’t it?”
“Not if it’s the right lingerie,” Dana said waggling her eyebrows up and down.
I grinned. ”Point taken. But I was hoping to come up with something a little more personal.”
“How about a personal love poem?”
I actually snorted at that suggestion. Out loud. (Though, in my defense, I’d been working out for over an hour. I was lucky I could produce breath at all, let alone a snort.) Ramirez was a cop. A tall, broad shouldered cop with a scar over one eyebrow and a tattoo of a panther running down his arm. Tough Guy didn’t even begin to describe Ramirez. Not that he didn’t have feelings. I’m sure he did. In fact, I knew he did, or I never would have married him. But I was pretty sure he did love poems about the same way I did boxing… with one eye shut and cringing the whole time.
“No. Love poem is out.”
Dana pursed her lips together, thinking. ”Okay, well what about something sexy. Like… handcuffs?”
“He’s a cop. He already has handcuffs.”
“Fur lined ones?”
I rolled my eyes. ”Vetoed.”
“Okay, maybe not handcuffs. But I know this place that has all kinds of sexy stuff like that.”
“I don’t know…” I hedged.
“Trust me, it will be fun.”
“What’s the place called?”
“Peach’s Pleasure Den.”
“It sounds like a sex shop.”
“It’s very classy.”
“A classy sex shop?”
“Come on, Maddie,” Dana said, turning to me and shutting off her machine. ”A couple sensual toys might be just what you need to keep Ramirez sleeping at home more often, you know what I mean?”
Honestly? It had been so long I almost didn’t know what she meant.
Which, even though I still had my reservations, prompted me to nod in agreement. ”Okay. Fine. I’ll go look.”
Dana grinned. A big, wicked thing that instantly had me second guessing my decision.
“Look!” I emphasized. ”Just look.”
* * *
Peach’s Pleasure Den was located two blocks south of Laurel Canyon in Studio City, right between a dry cleaner and production company with the NBC logo emblazoned on the side of the building. In the windows of the Pleasure Den were mannequins dressed in bright red lingerie with little pink feathers and hearts placed in strategic places. The sign above the door flashed “open” in pink neon, and the sign to the right of the window said to ask about their latest latex fetish gear.
I was having serious second (and third, and fourth) thoughts.
“You know, I’m not sure this is really Ramirez’s kind of place.”
“Trust me, Maddie,” Dana said, grabbing me by the arm and steering me inside. “This is every man’s kind of place.”
The second we stepped through the doors, I felt a blush hit my cheeks.
To our right was a tall counter holding a cash register and an assortment of condoms in bright colors and, if the sign beside them was to be believed, “tantalizing flavors”. To our left was a rack of shelves displaying various facsimiles of the male anatomy made out of rubber and plastic– most in sizes I was pretty sure real guys never came in. Behind the rack was a wall of leather collars, whips, and straps that I’d bet my favorite stilettos would leave Ramirez even more speechless than a love poem. And on the far wall was what looked like rubber clothing in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes, all studded with thick metal zippers.
“You know what?” I said, taking it all in. ”Maybe some nice lingerie would do the trick after all. I hear Victoria’s Secret is having a sale. Let’s go.”
I grabbed Dana’s arm, but she shook me off.
“Relax, Maddie. I’m sure Peach can suggest something that’s just your speed.”
I hoped she wasn’t talking literally as I eyed the display of “super powered vibrating friends”.
“Peach?’ Dana called out, rounding the counter that held the register. A doorway behind it led to what I’d guess was a stockroom or office. ”You here, Peach?” Dana called through the open doorway.
No one answered.
“She’s probably in the back,” Dana decided. ”Wait here, and I’ll go get her.”
“You’re leaving me alone?” I asked, my voice going higher than I’d have liked.
Dana grinned. ”Geeze, Maddie. They’re just toys. They don’t bite.” She paused. ”Well, most of them. I’d stay away from the vampire fetish section if I were you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but before I had the chance, she’d disappeared.
I wrapped my arms around myself, somehow feeling unnerved being surrounded by all the… sex. Which of course, was ridiculous. I was a grown woman. I was a married woman. So some people liked a little plastic in the mix while they had sex. Big deal, right?
Once I had myself halfway convinced that I was handling this new experience like a worldly adult, I dared to venture toward a shelf labeled, “Romantic Games.” I was looking for romantic. And I liked monopoly. Maybe a game was the thing.
I picked one up called “Truth or Dare”. I’d played a version of that at junior high sleepovers. Maybe this would be fun. Maybe Dana was right – Ramirez might get a kick out of this. I turned the box over and read the rules. I only got halfway down – between the hot wax card and the whipped cream penalty – when I realized this was not monopoly. I set the box back on the shelf.
I was just about to find Dana and call this the bad idea it was when I heard a scream from the back room.
“Maddie!” Dana yelled. ”Come quick!”
As much as seeing what the back room held terrified my faux worldly self, the panic in Dana’s voice had me charging through the doorway full force. So fast that I ran smack into Dana’s back as she stood transfixed in the center of the storeroom.
“Dana, are you okay-” I started to ask. But I never quite finished that statement because, as I looked past her, I saw what had had her screaming bloody murder.
It was, in fact, bloody murder.
Or, to be more precise, the body of a woman, laying twisted on the floor, the front of her T-shirt soaked in blood.
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Happy Valentines day everyone! Enjoy the excerpt!
Christian Delornay has observed so many illicit liaisons at his mother’s house of pleasure he regards sex as merely an enjoyable pastime, certainly not an act of love. So when a young widow arrives in search of work, Christian hires her as his assistant with the intention of instructing her in the ways of sensual seduction.
Desperate to escape her past, Elizabeth ‘Smith’ is happy to accept Christian’s offer of work. She is prepared to serve his every need, yet she refuses to reveal her most intimate desires. But in the hands of a master it is impossible to deny her own wanton yearnings, and she soon succumbs to her secret longing for carnal pleasure…
With a soft curse, Christian rose from the bed and went to light some more candles. He glanced back at Elizabeth Smith, who despite the speed of his lovemaking looked well satisfied, her pale body relaxed against the sheets, her nipples still hard from his mouth and hands. His cock jerked and he touched himself enjoying the quick return to form that had eluded him for quite a while. There was something about Mrs. Smith that made him hard.
He set the candles down beside the bed and crawled back in between the sheets, his gaze on the luscious wetness of Elizabeth’s now swollen sex. She’d taken him easily, her body as welcoming as he’d hoped…
“You are obviously as skilled as you claimed.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Thank you.”
“I’d almost say that was a command performance.”
A small frown appeared between her brows. “Did I not please you?”
She sat up and came toward him, her gaze fixed on his half-erect cock. He watched her approach and waited until her tongue flicked out to circle the tip of his crown. He imagined her with a collar around her throat like the man in the Roman room, imagined himself guiding her to do his bidding.
“Do you want more, sir?”
“Of course I want more.” He fisted his hand in her long hair and held her still, the crown of his cock jammed against her lips. “Suck me.”
She opened her mouth and he surged inside her, groaned as she let him cram himself down her throat, took all of him and started to suck. God, and he wanted it hard, liked it hard, and wanted to fuck her mouth like this every day whenever he wanted it.
Her hand cupped his balls, her long fingers caressing them, circling the pucker of his arse and making him even stiffer and more eager to come. He groaned her name and surged deeper, felt the kick of his climax deep in his balls and the back of his spine and spent himself in her warm and willing mouth. She released his cock with a small kiss and retreated to the other side of the bed, her grey gaze fixed on him as if daring him to suggest he found her wanting now.
He eased back against the headboard and waited for his breathing to settle down, waited to see what she would do next. She did nothing but watch him, her eyes calm, her expression dutiful and politely willing. He knew that if he wanted her again, she’d take him and that excited him despite what he’d begun to suspect.
She fingered the sheet and he tensed. “Is there something else, sir, or may I go to sleep?”
He held her gaze. “What if I wanted to lick and suck your cunt? Would you allow that?”
She shrugged, the motion as graceful and as empty as anything he could achieve at his most annoying. “I have not told you no—yet, have I?”
“Would you ever?”
Her smile didn’t dim. “Most men seem to enjoy a woman who allows them to use her as they will.”
“Do you feel used, Mrs. Smith?”
A faint flush colored her cheeks and she looked away from him. “What else can I do for you? Do you wish to fuck me again?”
His cock liked that idea, but his mind did not. “Do you always befuddle men with sex?”
“Befuddle them?” she raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
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Music puts me in the mood to write. Here’s the playlist for this Valentine’s romance!
In da Club by 50 cent
Selling My Soul by Black Sabbath
The Only Time by Nine Inch Nails
We’re In This Together by Nine Inch Nails
Beside You In Time by Nine Inch Nails
Your Girl by Mariah Carey
Melt Away by Mariah Carey
When You Put Your Hands On Me Christina Aguilera
Into the Fire by Sarah McLachlan
Sweet Surrender by Sarah McLachlan
Just for the Valentine’s Day Dom 101 class, fiery Miranda agrees to play the sassy sub — definite type casting. But since she’s crushed on Tey forever, can she resist giving him all that he demands?
Given the acute shortage of female demons, Miranda should have had her choice of masterful demon males. Maybe in different circumstances or a perfect reality she would have, but she only had eyes for one male, in or out of the club, Tey Durron.
Every demon hunter, except for him, treated her like a favorite kid sister. Civilian males seldom crossed her path. Those that did either worked for the club, or Duec and they treated her with the kind of ultra-careful, hands-off respect that they would show any honorable male’s unmated young sister.
While she spent her days and a good part of her nights at LCN — kink central for humans and demons alike — working as Duec’s assistant put her in a strictly off-limits zone. She was as cosseted as a temple virgin.She rolled her eyes in self-mockery.
The elevator was right in front of her. The floor numbers descended. She would not chicken out and take the stairs. The elevator settled with an ominous hiss. The doors opened, and Tey strode out.
In an instant, her body went both softer and tighter as her heart raced. She took a quick sidestep to avoid collision with the delicious smelling male.
Since he lived a few floors beneath street level, seeing him was an everyday occurrence. She’d never gotten over the thrill. This morning, Tey was as tall, dark, and mouth-wateringly delicious as always. A thick black mustache emphasized his lush, cruelly beautiful mouth. Visible beard shadowed his rugged jaw making him look even more lethally sexy
Either he was up unusually early or else he hadn’t been to bed, at least not to sleep. With his remarkable demon constitution, no matter how he abused himself no trace of debauchery showed. His usual long, rapid strides caused his black duster to flap behind him, making her hope for a glimpse of his tail.
Silly me. His tail is hidden by his glamour, just like my horns.
His midnight eyes flickered over her for a half a second. Strongly shaped eyebrows lowered, and he nodded in her general direction as he moved past.
Once again, he’d caught her gaping at him like a newt. Even the brief encounter made her pulse race in excited welcome. Somehow she responded to him with an intensity no other male — not even another earth demon — evoked. She ignored her traitorous body. Too late to impress the male with her fake indifference, she inclined her head in the same brief dip he’d given her. <em>Good Morning, to you too, Warm and Fuzzy, Sir.</em>
Tey wore irresistible like a designer fragrance. Too bad he was such a terminal jerk.
Still she’d give a month’s pay to see his demon form. She swallowed a sigh and chased it with a gulp of her cooled mocha grande.
She gave herself the familiar lecture about youth giving her time to outgrow her stupid infatuation with the handsome male. Someday she would get over her pointless crush and find a male of honor worth mating. Familiarity hadn’t diminished her one-sided attraction. With a small head shake at her own foolishness, she stepped into the elevators and pressed the third floor button. The doors whispered shut, and the plush cage ascended.
Then the sealed elevator triggered her aversion to small spaces. Mooning over Tey took a backseat to fear as she breathed through the daily trauma.
By the time Miranda crossed into her office, she’d shaken off the hopeless longing for the impossible male. A smart female wouldn’t waste her time on an unrequited attraction. Bright about most things, she couldn’t seem to move past her crush.
The problem with Tey, besides his total irresistibleness, was that every once in awhile, when he didn’t think she was looking, she’d caught him staring at her with the same kind of bitter yearning she knew too well. This thin excuse for hope kept her dreaming that someday he would get over whatever it was that kept him from sweeping her in his arms.
Right, it’s official, I’ve lost my mind in a rare case of insanity brought on by constant lust. Her lips quirked with self-deprecation while she turned on lights, shed her coat, and put away her handbag.
Once comfortably seated at her desk, she sipped her now drinkable coffee, and logged onto the club’s network. She cued up Saturday night’s video streams. Ten minutes later, she was still scanning images, suppressing a yawn, and waiting for the caffeine to kick in and give her sleepy brain a jump start.
The security camera focused on Tey, and suddenly she was alert and quivering with a tingling awareness. His right hand cupped a sub’s nape. The woman had to take two steps to every one of his to keep up as he herded her to one of the private rooms on the level below the main dungeon.
Miranda’s stomach clenched with relief or regret, she wasn’t quite sure which, maybe a little of both.
Tey occasionally played in one of the glass scene rooms. More often, like this time, he’d chosen an unmonitored private space. Although most of the club, including the restricted access playrooms, were equipped with cameras, only trusted members were allowed in the private area and the dungeon master on duty seldom overrode the non-surveillance settings.
When Tey crossed the threshold with his sub in tow, Miranda reached for the mouse, ready to click to the next video file, but the display stream flickered, and then continued. For some reason the motion activated cameras were live.
“This is going to get messy. Do you want your harness on or off?
His deep voice reverberated through Miranda’s body as if she were the submissive in the room with him.
The sub of the moment knelt in front of him, arms locked behind her back and her toned thighs spread. “Off, Sir.”
Miranda’s stomach clenched again, this time in envy. She recognized Diane’s toned curves and trademark leather harness. Although the woman was far too pretty for Miranda to like her, both she and Diane shared a discriminating appreciation for Tey’s numerous charms.
The submissive was a regular at LCN and practically a demon hunter groupie. To be fair, the submissives, including the much-too-lovely Diane, were attracted to the hunters’ male beauty, obvious strength, and powerful dominance. The women had no way of knowing they were playing with the world’s deadliest predators.
Tey bent for a second. His hand brushed the hem of his jeans in a blur of speed too fast for the camera to track. When he straightened a knife blade gleamed in his right hand.
“Are you going to cut me, Sir?” The beautiful woman sounded much too eager and too pushy as she added, “I would love to wear your mark, Sir.”
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Gotta Love a Guy Who Comes with His Own Handcuffs!
Harley Miller has always fantasized about having sex with a cop. So, when hunky Royce Barlowe comes to her rescue after her car breaks down, she can’t resist flirting with him. One thing leads to another and soon she’s kissing him.
Going further than that right there on the side of the road is crazy and impulsive, not to mention reckless, but neither one can help themselves and soon he’s cuffing her hands behind her back and fulfilling her wildest fantasy – which turns out to be hotter than anything she’s ever imagined.
“I have a confession to make, Officer,” she said softly.
He drew her bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it. “Is it something I’m going to have to arrest you for?”
An image of him pushing her up against the wall and frisking her popped into her head, and she stifled a moan as her pussy spasmed.
“I don’t know.” She trailed her fingers down his abs to caress his belt. “Is fantasizing about having sex with a hot cop a crime? Because I’ve fantasized about it for a long time.”
Officer Barlowe’s eyes took on a deliciously dangerous glint. But instead of kissing her again like she’d thought he would—or even unbuckling his belt and pushing down his pants so he could slip that magnificent cock of his in her pussy—he lifted her down from the car’s hood and spun her around.
Harley threw him a confused look over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
His sensuous mouth quirked. “Playing into your fantasy.”
She opened her mouth to ask how he intended to do that, but all that came out was a soft, “Mmm,” as he slowly ran his hands down her body and back up again.
“If I were going to arrest you, I’d first have to frisk you,” he whispered in her ear. “Just to make sure you weren’t concealing any weapons.”
His breath stirred her hair, making her shiver.
“Nope, no weapons here.” He cupped her breasts, giving her nipples a squeeze through the fabric before slipping his hand between her legs. “What about here?”
She moaned as he thrust a finger in her pussy and wiggled it back and forth.
“No weapons here, either.”
He slid his finger out to fumble with something on his belt. Harley was about to look over her shoulder to see what he was doing when something cool and metallic snapped around her wrist. Handcuffs. A quiver of excitement raced through her as he gently pinned that arm behind her back and cuffed it to the other one.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. This was even better than her fantasies.
He put his mouth to her ear again. “Spread ‘em.”
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* * * * * * * * * *
V-Day wishes from your Smutketeers!
Wishing everyone the sweetest kisses and the finest chocolate for V-day! Maybe start on the lips…move onto the tongue…the rest is up to you. ;)
I’m giving away a copy of any one of my Samhain e-books (you can see them all HERE)-winner’s choice, plus a PDF ARC of my novel PLEASURE’S EDGE!
* * *
Wishing everyone a sweet, sexy, romantic Valentine’s Day! Indulge in whatever your heart desires – it is the day of love, after all…
I’ll give away any two digital copies from either my Samhain or Carina Press backlist. Hopefully they can put a sexy spark in your life. ;)
* * *
I wish you candlelight and roses…in a fancy restaurant or, even better, a well-appointed bedroom with a gorgeous man to do your every bidding. A very happy Valentine’s Day to each and every one of you.
I’ll be giving away a copy of any of my Samhain or Ellora’s Cave ebooks. Winner gets to pick a set of two books. Hope it’s good for you, too! ;)
* * *
I feel I can best express my hopes and wishes for all of you in the form of song titles. All You Need Is Love…I Will Always Love You…Love Your Way…I Touch Myself–no, wait–that’s not appropriate for Valentine’s Day is it? Sorry *grin* Happy Valentine’s Day and know that The Smutketeers are sending you love and kisses and naughty fantasies.
My prize: A $10 gift card to Amazon or B&N (winner’s choice) and either an e-copy of any book from my e-backlist (Samhain or Ellora’s Cave e-books) or a print copy of Possess Me, Tempt Me or Three Sinful Wishes…so basically anything you want :)
R.G aka Rachel