Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Shifters are seriously sexy. They represent our wild side, that primal, animalistic streak inside us all where the rules of polite society give way to instinct and attitude.
Tiger Trap is the first of the Finders Keepers series, telling the stories of men and women who live on the edge of society, working in the grey zone where the rules of men blur and blend with the laws of survival.
The first law of their world: protect their secrets at all costs. The second law is even simpler. What they find, they keep, especially when it comes to their mates.
Tessa Banks is a cat burglar, in more than once sense of the word. A leopard shifter with a talent for taking what doesn’t belong to her, she braves the wintery cold of a Rocky Mountain resort town in a quest for vengeance.
Reformed thief and tiger shifter, Doyle Frost, uses his unique talents to steal from the bad guys instead of for them. Known as one of the best, a simple retrieval for a client should’ve been easy, but in the game of chance, things hardly ever go according to plan.
Plans go off the rails when the two thieves discover that Fate has a twisted sense of timing. Will they be able to keep their hands off each other and stay out of trouble long enough to pull off the heist, or will one of them be left to take the fall while the other takes the prize?
The first whiff of her scent hit him as he left the treeline. Doyle’s stride lengthened, going from an effortless lope to a sprint as he chased that elusive fragrance right up to the door of the estate.
Of all the times to find his mate, it had to be now? Doyle raised his muzzle to the falling snow and snarled in frustration. Somewhere in that house was his mate, and the Monet he’d been sent to retrieve. For the first time in his career, Doyle was going off target. Nothing would stop him from finding his mate. Nothing, and no one.
He wanted to charge in, to seek her out and claim her. His mate’s scent was rich, tantalizing enough to cloud his human mind and allow his tiger to dominate. It was only by sheer will that he reined the beast in, reminding it that there were still security measures in place. He had to speak to the wolves, get them to deactivate the barriers so he could find his mate.
He shifted to human and the bitter chill helped him focus. Made him more human, but even then Doyle could feel the beast pacing just beneath the surface of his mind. In this form his sense of smell was lessened, but he could still taste her perfume lingering on the air. His cock surged to life despite the cold, hard enough he could have battered the door with it. Not that he needed to. Someone had left the goddamned door open. Doyle tore open the pack, the biting cold numbing his fingers and slowing him down as he fumbled for the Bluetooth style earpiece. He got it into his ear at last and flicked it on with a shaking hand.
“I’m here. Deactivate everything, right fucking now!” he snarled, the tiger coming through in every word he uttered. His mate’s scent was everywhere. He needed to find her. Fuck her. Claim her for his own.
“Calm down, dude. We’re on it,” one of them replied, he couldn’t tell which one.
“You don’t understand. My mate. She’s here. Now. I have to find her.” Doyle was hauling clothing out of the pack as he spoke, dressing as quickly as he could in the black jogging pants and T-shirt that he found inside.
“Holy fuck. Did you say your mate is there?”
“Did I stutter, pup? She’s here. Now get me the fuck inside.”
“Uh, yeah. About that. Someone’s already deactivated the sensors from the main panel.”
Fuck. So either his mate was another thief, or she was involved with the owner. After more than a hundred years, the gods had picked a hell of a day to go screwing with not only his sex life, but his career. He stamped his feet into the cheap shoes he’d found at the bottom of the bag and sprinted into the house. His mate’s scent was stronger here, saturating the air and showing him the way.
Doyle took the stairs two at a time, then three, ignoring the twins’ questions as he tore through the ornately decorated house. He hit the landing at the top of the stairs and followed the alluring fragrance of his woman down the long corridor, fighting to keep his tiger in check with every step he took. He wanted to know her name and her taste. What she would sound like when she laughed? When she cried out his name in pleasure? He wanted to know everything about the woman he’d never expected to find. Above all else, though, he wanted to feel her body beneath his as he took her and claimed her for his own.
Barely slowing, he passed the doorway to what his intel indicated would be the main display area for Christophe Heinz’s collection of stolen goods. Normally, Doyle would have paused to reflect on the beauty all around him, but not this time. This time he only had eyes for the captivating creature who was staring at him from the far side of the room.
Fucking hell, she was gorgeous. Petite and curvy, with a tumbling mane of golden blonde hair that framed her face and set off the startling green of her eyes. Eyes that were currently wide with shock.
The word bounced around the inside of his skull as lust seared his veins. He snarled, baring his fangs. She curled her lip in answer, her eyes widening as her nostrils flared and understanding dawned in those beautiful eyes. “No!”
Well, that wasn’t a word Doyle heard very often.
His beautiful mate hurriedly crammed something into a bag and set it down by her feet. A quick scan of the walls showed him exactly what was in the bag, one of a series of paintings of water lilies. His mate was a thief, and she was stealing the same damned thing he was here to retrieve.
As far as he was concerned, there was only one possible explanation for this state of affairs. Fate was a fickle bitch with a wicked sense of humor.
“My name is Doyle Frost, and I believe you have two things that belong to me, love.” His brogue was back, proof that his control was slipping, badly.
“And what might that be?” she asked, her voice somehow managing to be both sensual and full of challenge at the same time.
“Well, for one thing, that’s my client’s painting you have in your bag. I’ll be having it back, if you don’t mind.”
Her eyes darkened and she shook her head in denial. “It’s mine. You can’t have it. Not the painting, and not anything else you might be thinking to claim.”
“Is that so?” he challenged and prowled across the room, doing his best to ignore the steel rod that had replaced his cock and the demanding roar of his tiger who wanted nothing but to take what was his.
She held her ground until he was only two feet in front of her, but then her gaze lowered to his very obvious erection and she took a step back. “No.”
“You keep saying that word as if it’s going to change anything, my beauty. It won’t.” He lunged for her, grabbing her and hauling her roughly into his arms. He couldn’t wait any longer.
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Author’s Blog: http://www.susanhayes.ca
Friday, April 11, 2014
Jenny Reese has been crushing on her older brother’s best friend for years. Spencer has barely noticed her. And why would he? Hot guys never look at curvy girls as anything but friends. They’d never been even that. But when he discovers her working as a waitress at Randy’s Diner, Jenny fears the news of her questionable employment will reach her conservative family’s ears before she’s had time to pay off her tuition.
Life is finally catching up with Spencer Atkinson. His lack of a career, steady girlfriend, and future prospects has worried everyone but him until his younger brother marries first. Discovering his best friend’s little sister working the bachelor party rocks Spencer’s world in more ways than one. Now the one girl he should never lust after is the only thing he can think about.
Spencer was all thumbs as his fingers worked at the plastic buttons holding Jenny’s shirt around her torso. He’d only meant to unfasten her but not look. She’d been right about his brother’s friends thinking something was up. They would have to appear as if they were having fun or one of them would threaten to take her from him.
He’d not counted on how tight the damn garment had been. Each disc he unfastened sent the cotton gaping wider than the last until he couldn’t see much beyond the creamy skin he’d revealed.
His eyes slipped closed to avoid looking. Sightlessness lasted until she spoke.
“You have to do more than that if you’re going to quiet suspicion,” Jenny whispered into his ear. The puff of hot air whizzed through his ear canal, drawing his balls tight.
He wanted to do much more and none of it to quiet suspicion. That was why he wasn’t going to do anything at all.
But he couldn’t resist just one touch while he had her here. Spencer nudged the fabric aside until he could see her waist. He slipped his fingers within, caressing the puckered white scar where she’d fallen off her bike into a broken fence when she was nine. He’d found her that day bleeding and trying not to cry even as she feared moving.
How could he have forgotten he’d met her first?
Jenny shifted atop him, twisting until she faced him head on. His gaze met hers even as he attempted to ignore her hips straddling his and the sudden jerking of his erection within his jeans. What stared back at him was not Jenny Rees. He’d never seen this woman. This was J—Randy’s waitress. He could easily imagine how she’d made four hundred dollars in an hour. If he’d had that kind of cash lying around, he’d have given it to her simply to keep her where she was for the rest of the night.
“There’s three more buttons,” she said at full volume. “Let me help you with them.”
No. He wanted to do it.
Spencer caught her hands in midair.
No! He didn’t want it done at all!
This shouldn’t be happening. This was Michael’s little sister.
Michael’s little sister lifted her hand until his knuckles reached her lips. She pressed a small kiss to the one above his index finger. That same worldly expression he’d seen a glimpse of a moment ago filled her eyes.
Something had happened to Jenny since she left the homestead.
She lifted her hand and deposited his palm on her shoulder. Caught between her sensual web and his own musings, Spencer let her disengage his grip. He didn’t stop her when she circled the third button from the top.
Mute with need, Spencer said nothing while she worked the plastic through the hole. His silence continued on to the second button from the top. But it didn’t last.
“Christ,” he hissed. His hands once again caught hers. “You’re not wearing a bra!”
Emotion flared in her eyes, anger perhaps. Spencer might have known what it was if she hadn’t shocked him with her next motion. Jenny set one hand above his so she could peel his fingers up, and then when she had control, she shoved it under her shirt. Her digits forced his palm over one generous bare breast. He sat stunned and unable to move—unable to do anything but experience the perfect warmth of her.
Proving once again she wasn’t the girl he’d thought her to be, J pressed her chest against his grip. A quiet gasp emitted from her gently parted lips that woke every primal urge within him.
Spencer struggled not to rip her panties from her to see if he could draw that noise from her again. Instead he tried to pull back. This time her grip remained steady on his.
Pink lips formed words he worked hard to hear. “Just pretend I’m someone else.”
That would be impossible. Even with a worldly alter ego staring at him from familiar eyes, Spencer could never imagine this female was anyone other than who she was.
She stretched forward, pushing herself further into his palm. Spencer tried not to memorize the weight of her breast, the silky texture, the perfect temperature. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should have set her on her feet minutes ago.
But then Larry would have been all over her. His teeth ached simply thinking of that pairing.
“And I’ll pretend you’re someone else too.”
Spencer tightened his grip on the hand he still held. “Why? Am I so old you have to pretend I’m someone hotter?”
She released a shaky, bell-like laugh that was so spectacularly Jenny that his cock strained toward her.
Despite his grip on her hand, Jenny pushed the final button through its hole. The cotton spread wide. Though he’d been awaiting her answer, he couldn’t resist looking down.
Spencer’s mouth went dry at the rosy little nipple perked up at attention atop the full creamy breast. He’d known she’d grown into a beautiful woman but his imagination hadn’t done her justice. He licked his lips without realizing it.
Anya Breton is a web monkey with an obsession for nail polish and rubber chickens. Her fears include Peeps and people who hate clowns. She lives in the Midwest with her significant other.
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