Book List

Excerpt from: A Christmas Favour

“Oh, I’m so glad Thanksgiving holidays are over now.” Angela sighed and turned to Mike, gathering a sack of groceries from her car.

Mike took the bag from her. “I know what you mean. Now we’ve got to make it through the Christmas holidays.”

He followed her up the short steps into her apartment.

“I’m going to get my place ready for a spiritual cleansing this week. It’s been a long time,” she continued.

Mike cocked an eyebrow. “You actually do that shit, huh?”

She smirked. “Yes. You knew that about me before we started dating.” She took the sack from him and started putting things away.

“I know. It’s just weird, that’s all.”

Angela frowned. “I thought you liked weird.”

“I do.” Mike reached for Angela’s hand and took it in his. He kissed it as he gazed longingly into her eyes. “I love your eyes, Angela.” He leaned towards her lips and kissed her. She hesitantly pulled away from him.

Mike looked puzzled. “Is something the matter?”

“No. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. I think I’d better turn in early tonight. It’s Friday, and I’d like to get some rest. I hope you don’t mind.” She tried her best to look sad, and the puppy dog look won out.

He snorted. “If you’d learn to eat more meat, you’d probably feel better.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “We’ve been over the meat issue many times before. I’ve just never been a big fan of red meat.”

“I know. I’m mostly picking on you anyway, but I am concerned about your health. The protein—”

She pressed two fingers against his lips in slight irritation. “It’s sweet, but I’m fine. I promise.”

His shoulders sagged. “Okay. I promised the boys I’d game with them this weekend, anyway.” Mike tried to mimic the puppy dog look.

“Call me later?” She turned away from him, glancing over her shoulder.

“I sure will. I love you, Angela.” He kissed her, and his smile returned.

“You too.” Angela closed the door quietly. She walked over to the nightstand, picked up a black photo album, and dusted off the cover. Angela found the picture of her and a taller man with long midnight black hair that framed a rough, unshaved face. His arms were around her and they were both smiling. To my best friend, forever and always, Christian, the caption beneath the picture read.

A visit from you would really make my day, she thought. She set down the photo album and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

Her kitchen was tiny, barely big enough for two people. The rest of her apartment was fairly open—one couch, a few pictures on the walls and some ironwork candleholders over the fireplace that needed cleaning. In one corner, Angela kept a kitty bed for the stray cats she picked up and gave a home to.

After her cup of hot water was boiling, she added the tea bag, stirred it and brought the cup to her nose. The aroma and warmth of green tea helped her nerves. The past week had been stressful. Mike tried to be helpful by coming over to see her, but as usual, he was just in the way. The winter holidays were a mess for her since Christian stopped coming into town. * * * *

Christian picked up his smart phone and pager, stuffed them in his pockets, gathered up his laptop and headed for his car. Work sucked badly when the servers were down in Dallas, because that meant a trip out of town. He could at least call his best friend and former lover. Maybe they could go out for drinks or hang out and spend some time together. He felt guilty. It had been two years since he’d seen Angela and almost as long since he’d last called or written.

Her absence from his life was beginning to bother him, though relationship troubles were routine for him since losing his last girlfriend. It seemed Christian’s very healthy sex drive had interfered with her religious studies and training to be a missionary. She’d always complained about him working so hard in the secular world when he could have been preaching the good faith. He laughed at the idea as he tried to recall her face and couldn’t. He didn’t mind parting with her.

It was still early, but Angela should be at work by now. Chris hooked his Bluetooth earpiece around his ear, picked up his smart phone and dialled her work number, impatient for the phone to connect. The two rings seemed like forever until she answered.

“Hello, Anderson Insurance…”

Her sweet voice was all it took to put him in a better mood.

“Angela, hi.” Chris remembered to breathe.

“Christian…?”

“Yeah, it’s me. It’s uh, been awhile.” He twiddled his thumbs.

“Do you realise how long it’s been?” She sounded irritated with him.

He slumped in his seat and let out a long, slow breath. “Too long. And I’m sorry.”

“You had better be.” A beat passed before either of them spoke again.

“What’s going on? How have you been?” Chris picked up the stylus from his phone, tapped it against the dashboard nervously.

“I’ve been fine. You do remember this is my work line, right?”

He could almost see her smirking at him, the way her eyes narrowed yet still gleamed with desire for him. “Yes, and again, I’m sorry. I only have a moment anyway. I’m coming into town next weekend on business and might be able to get some free time.”

He thought he heard her breath hitch. “Would you like to get together?”

“Sure. I could really use some company.”

Despite the sadness that was in her voice, he was certain he could cheer her up. The thought of smelling her sweet essence, cuddling against her soft skin brought a grin to his face. “All right. I’ll call you as soon as I get in, okay?”

“Please do,” she whispered.

Excerpt from: A Present Christmas

Agnes sighed heavily as she made her way to her sister’s cottage. No doubt, she’d have to listen once again to the litany of criticism Esmeralda always had for her on these visits. Hopefully, Judith wouldn’t be there to regard her with the faint sneer that always seemed to hover around her thin lips whenever Agnes was in the room.

It was that time of year again, when the world was in rhyme—or so the song went—but all it meant for Agnes and her sisters was that they would be meddling in other people’s affairs in the hope that they could make them see the error of their ways. It was something Agnes had not excelled in for the last couple of years. Particularly last year—oh, that had been nasty. After Agnes had failed to move the miserable old bitch from her miserly ways, it had taken all of Judith’s threats of hellfire and damnation to scare the woman into including her young grandson in her will. And even then, it had been done with ill grace. Agnes hoped she didn’t have to deal with someone that belligerent again.

Esmeralda was standing in the doorway as Agnes walked slowly up the garden path that led to the little cottage in the woods. Like Agnes, Esmeralda was not tall, barely five feet in heels. Their sister, Judith, was the tall one. Esmeralda had once remarked that Judith had to be tall for the future was limitless, whereas the past and the present took up much less room.

“In fact, dear,” she’d said with a patronising air, “I wonder that you have to be almost as tall as me, when the present is so fleeting.”

Fleeting maybe, Agnes had groused to herself, but it could still be a giant pain in the neck! She forced a smile to her pixie-like face as she came within a few feet of her sister.

“You’re late, Agnes dear.” Esmeralda’s pursed lips said it all. It was going to be one of those afternoons.

“And good afternoon to you, too, sister dear,” Agnes said. “Is the kettle on for tea?”

“Of course. Come along in—there have been some changes made to this year’s business.”

“Oh, pocks weed!” Agnes plunked herself down on one of the cosy armchairs by the fire. “What kind of changes?”

“Language, dear. We’re not going to be working together this year. You’re on your own.”

Agnes’s eyes widened. “On my own—but why?”

“Because the young man you’re to help is only too painfully aware of the past, and if you do your job properly, the future will take care of itself.”

“Oh, dear,” Agnes murmured. “So it’s all up to me?”

“It really shouldn’t be too hard, even for you, Agnes.”

“Huh! Thank you for that vote of confidence. And what will you and Judith be up to, may I ask?”

“Someone in the White House needs a lot of help this year—end of an era, and all that.” Esmeralda handed Agnes a cup of tea. “She’s having to give up a lot, and gain very little in return, I’m afraid. It’ll be my job to help her forget most of the horrors of the past eight years, and dwell only on the good times. I’m sure there must been a few, at least.”

“And who have I got?” Agnes asked. “William Calder, twenty-seven years old.” Esmeralda picked up a file from the kitchen table and opened it. “Five ten, one hundred sixty-five pounds, eyes blue, hair dark blond…you can take this file with you, but from what I see here, he’s recently out of a relationship and a job. Very low self-esteem, is hating the prospect of Christmas on his own—and frankly, the Boss is a little concerned that he may be contemplating suicide.”

“Oh, my. Doesn’t he have family?”

“An only child to elderly parents—both deceased, it says here.”

“Poor boy.” Agnes held out her hand. “Let me see…” She took the file from her sister and flipped it open. “Oh, but he’s so cute. Stunning eyes. Boy, those are baby-blues all right—and what a lovely smile—nice teeth.”

“And he’s gay, Agnes.”

“Oh…well, at least, he’ll smell nice.”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Agnes, be serious. This is an important mission for you—so don’t mess up…”

Excerpt from: A Sexual Spark

“Oh…shit,” I muttered under my breath. Something wicked had just walked through the door, and I knew like any woman—even a mutt like me—knew deep down in her soul when a predator neared. A hush fell over the dimly lit bar, the hairs on my neck rose and my body tightened as if a heat wave suddenly blasted down it.

My every nerve awakened screaming, big, bad, and dangerous had entered the bar, yet I couldn’t stop myself from swinging around on my heels, letting my eyes sweep through the haze of smoke and shadows until they landed on his large form.

He had to be over seven feet tall, owning the space as he walked. The crowded bar separated for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. I wasn’t the only one who sensed the predator in him. The man was nasty on two well-sculpted legs that flexed and bunched with ground-eating strides, he took to the only empty booth near my station, then easily slid that big frame of his into it. He dominated the space around him. A man who knew no equal, he reminded me of a deadly panther—powerful and sleek.

He wore dark, exotic wraparound sunglasses and dressed all in black. His pants were indecent as hell, leaving nowhere for me to look but at the bundle prominently covered by luscious, black, shiny leather. I wasn’t sure what size shitkickers he wore, but damn that man had the biggest feet I’d ever seen. Ripping my eyes off his crotch, I made my way up over the boundaries most would call a chest, yet on this dangerous creature, it seemed more like stacked mounds of muscle forming very wide and impressive shoulders, twisting and rippling beneath his leather jacket as he moved. The kind of shoulders a girl could wrap her legs around and ride his face for days.

I could only describe his hair as a thick messy shag of pitch-black that teased around his face, brushing just past his broad shoulders. It had that ‘I just got fucked’ look that only someone like him could wear and still look wickedly handsome. Now, if I rolled out of bed with that kind of hair and did nothing with it, I bet the first person who saw me would start barking. Not really smart, but I always say some people have shit for brains, too. Hey, I might have been half human, but the other half was wolf, which made me a bitch to begin with, so I wouldn’t push it.

His face, what I could make of it with those damn shades on, looked like carved granite for as much as the man ever changed expressions. His face must’ve had one expression—harsh and deadly looking. High-cut cheekbones and a cruel mouth made me think of whips, blindfolds and handcuffs. Now that might be my own fetishes coming into play, but I seriously doubted it. His aura cloaked him in a dark malevolence and, for some sadistic reason—one that I couldn’t explain—it totally turned me on.

My hands felt clammy, and I resisted the urge to rub them down my slick leather skirt, which would’ve been hard to do with the bottles of beer hanging off my fingertips of one hand and a full serving tray balanced on the other. To say the man made me a tad bit nervous would have been an understatement. Then, a deep smug male chuckle flitted through my mind. I squinted, trying to get a clearer image of Mr. Dangerous over there, and wouldn’t you know it, his face broke into a big-ass grin. Why that telepathic, broadcast-snatching bastard. I closed off my mind like locking up the vault to Fort Knox. One thing I really didn’t care for was a man that knew he was all that and a candy bar. It really rubbed my fur the wrong way.

No man, no matter how good-looking, was going to throw this girl off her game. Then he cocked a finger at me, motioning me over. Like I’d run panting to his side. Not happening in this lifetime. I just gave him a cool nod of my head to show I’d seen him, and turned away, making sure to put an extra swing in my ass, as I made my way to the bar to rid myself of the empty beer bottles. What I really wanted to do was wipe that cocky male grin right off his face. But no…I took a deep breath instead, gathered myself together, pulled my shoulders back; I let my twins lead the way towards his booth. I stopped right in front of him, giving him my best bored face and cocked a hip for added effect.

Excerpt from: Afternoon Delight

Savannah Claymore turned her head to look at her friend and condo mate, Lori Avondale, and said, “This really sucks big time.”

She saw Lori lift her sunglasses and glance sideways at her. “What could possibly suck? We’re out here on our private patio, the sun is shining gloriously on our nude and freshly waxed bodies, your favourite jazz is in the CD player, and we’re sharing a pitcher of orange mimosas. Even better, we don’t even have to think about work for two whole days.”

“No men.”

“Excuse me?” Lori sat up and swung her legs over the side of the chaise. “Did you say no men?”

“You heard right. Oh, we’re not exactly without them.” Savannah picked up her mimosa and sipped at it. “We’re just sort of between them. Right?” she sighed, and sipped at her drink. “But I do miss them.”

“Wait. I’ll run to the wall over there, wave my tits down at the sidewalk and see if I can rustle up one or two.”

Savannah burst out laughing. “You would, too.”

Lori studied her friend for a moment. “Having adventures is fun, but do you ever wish you could find that one special man? Someone who could fulfil all your fantasies and you’d be satisfied to settle down with?”

Savannah stared. “Settle down? Why would I want to settle down? I’ve got a great career, a great condo mate and a fantastic sex life. Give that all up?”

Lori shrugged. “You wouldn’t have to give up anything except the other men.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, and one of us would have to find another place to live.”

Savannah finished the drink she held. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Have you?”

Lori nibbled her lower lip. “Not a lot. But every so often I get a feeling inside as if, oh, I don’t know, a piece of me is missing.”

“What we need is a new man. Actually, I was thinking of a specific man.”

Lori inclined her head towards the adjoining patio. “Our new neighbour? The hunk next door?”

“You bet. Have you taken a good look at him?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lori wiggled her eyebrows. “Yum yum.” Savannah licked her lips. “Yum is right. I’d like to get my mouth around him. But I swear, I think he’s either gay or blind. If you had two women lying outside in the nude practically in your face, wouldn’t you at least show a little curiosity?”

“I can show curiosity without the hunk next door.” She moved to sit sideways on her lounger next to Savannah and fished two orange slices out of the pitcher. “I’m curious how you’d look with a little decoration. Shall we see?”

Savannah giggled. “Exactly what do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.”

Excerpt From: Along for the Ride

Chapter One

The paintbrush splayed out across her nipple. Georgie focused steadily on the canvas that Cal was working on, but felt the touch of the brush dart through her body like a lightning bolt, as if it were her skin that was being touched, rather than his painting of it. She looked away from the canvas and lifted her hair from the back of her neck, where the skin prickled with anxiety.

Cal was totally focused on the painting, his eyes narrowed as he worked. Just looking at his strong bone structure and the firm line of his mouth gave her a physical thrill. Standing by his side, her body was throbbing, and a cloying heat had long since gathered between her thighs. Georgie had to face it—she was horny as hell.

She pulled her kimono into place and toyed with her empty coffee cup. She dipped her finger into the crystals of sugar clinging to the bottom of the cup to distract herself, idly sucking them off her fingertips.

Cal lifted the brush from the canvas and turned toward her. She reached over to the tray and handed him his cup. He looked at her intently as he swallowed the fragrant espresso.

“Blimey.” She nodded her head at the painting.

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, yeah.” She chuckled. “I mean, what’s not to like?” Georgie took another look at the painting. “It’s very flattering.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” He smiled. It had a devastating effect on her. Her heart rate notched up another level; her core was on fire.

“But...do you really see me that way?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Another wave of heat coursed through her body.

“It’s not so important what I see, but what I’m trying to make others see in you, the subject.” He gestured at the canvas. “Why don’t you tell me what you see?”

Georgie blushed violently. Talk about putting you on the spot. She shook her hair out and tried to focus on the painting. The sense of identification she felt was uncanny. Yet the way he had depicted her, she looked like a sated harlot, one who was staring blatantly at the onlooker as if eager for more of the same. The image was so blatant. Her naked body lounged out across the rug and cushions, totally on display. Seeing it had immediately stirred something deep and pent-up inside her: sheer, rampant lust.

If that was how he saw her, she must be downright obvious when she wanted a man. She hadn’t realised, although an ex had once said being assessed by her across a nightclub was like being hunted down by a lethal laser beam. She had laughed at the time, thinking that he was just saying it to flatter her.

“I see...um.” She fidgeted with her hair. “Passion, or even lust, I suppose.”

“That’s good. That’s what I want.”

Georgie threw him a look of amused accusation.

He shrugged. “Well, it means we’re getting nearer to what I want...” He gave her a quick, suggestive smile. “Let’s get back to work.”

“You’re a real slave driver, aren’t you?”

“You’d better believe it.” His eyebrows flickered. There it was again. He was flirting with her. Her heart missed a beat. She’d told herself over and again that she was simply modelling for him, but he persistently confused her by making remarks that kept her on edge. Her body simmered with arousal.

She wandered back to the pile of cushions and rugs, slipped out of the kimono, and got settled. She ran her hands over her aroused breasts as she took up her pose, briefly answering their need for contact. She sighed. Modelling for Calvin Rolf was turning out to be even more challenging than she had imagined it might.

He put the cup down and ran his hands through his hair before picking up the brush and returning to the canvas. His expression was keen. His eyes were almost indigo in their strange blueness—intense and brooding, they followed every movement of her body.

Georgie was getting used to seeing him from this strange sidelong viewpoint, and she watched him as he worked. The large studio, so sparse and simple, was more than filled with his presence.

He was different than any other man she had known. He had an air of control and exuded self-confidence. The other students at college thought him attractive but eccentric, with his maverick ways and his distinctive Austrian accent. He was a very good-looking man, with strong facial bones and angular features. He had a narrow goatee, and his dark blond hair fell from his distinctive temples in light waves. His body was strong, lithely muscled, and fit, with a coiled energy about it that was decidedly sexual. He reminded her of a panther on the prowl.

His work was renowned. A leading contemporary artist, he worked across many media and had pioneered large physical sculpture using synthetic resins and heat moulds. He was best known for the work he did in the realist tradition, depicting the human form in such a manner as to examine the soul, its very essence, through the image. To be chosen as a model by him had been an honour. Not to mention a complete turn-on.

Excerpt From: Amuse Me

Wilmington, North Carolina

I sat at my computer stuck in a writing rut and listening to the Eagles on my iPod. My boyfriend had left me at the same time I was due to turn in my latest erotic romance to my editor—and I had nothing.

I massaged my temples hoping something would strike a chord in my brain. A mere spark of an idea that would be fun to write, fun to read and leaving my fans breathless and begging for more. The more I thought about it, the harder it was to convert my thoughts to the blank computer screen.

The blinking curser mocked me as I stared at the white page. Dammit, Rich may have fucked my life up but he wasn’t going to take a way my passion for writing. I wouldn’t let him, no matter what it cost.

In high school, young love blooms like tulips in the spring—sometimes developing into loving, lasting relationships and sometimes setting one up for heartache. Rich, I thought, would be the loving lasting relationship kind of guy but, boy, was I wrong. We’d dated throughout high school and college. I’d heard sex changed the relationship, but I was stupid and naive. Rich was a sexual being and aroused feelings within me no other man had. If only those feelings had been mutual.

I’m twenty-five years old and it took me seven years to discover the man I’d thought I loved—the mushy, gushy kind of love—had cheated on me. Not once or twice—no that was too easy. He’d fucked every girl he’d come in contact with.

For six months he’d been out of my life, yet he still haunted my dreams. I’d found out two days ago, from my best friend, that his latest conquest was having his baby. The more I thought about it, the more I hated him. I wanted payback. I needed it for some weird reason.

I started typing, letting my anger fuel the words on paper, my fingers flying across the keyboard as my thoughts sputtered from my brain. For once in my life,

I was taking all the writing advice I’d thought was crap and putting it to good use. I wrote what I knew.

I made my real life story an act of fiction.

A few hours later I’d plotted, planned and brainstormed about all the events I’d experienced and a few from my imagination as well. I had a five-page plan of events, a storyline and the perfect ending. Funny, how something so obvious was hidden right under my nose.

My side of the story mixed with a little imagination would be my vengeance. After all, paybacks always were hell…

Excerpt From: Attitude Adjustment

“Five hundred hours of community service and suspension of your driver’s license until it’s done.” Judge Blackbird slammed the gavel down.

“Five hundred…?” Linc protested under his breath. “I wouldn’t have gotten caught if that damned old biddy hadn’t pulled out in front of me!”

His lawyer, Harvey, tugged on his arm, trying to shut him up.

“Old biddy, huh?” The judge looked down at him from behind thick spectacles. His gaze swung to the court reporter. “The Court retracts the sentence it just gave this young man.”

Linc’s chest puffed up, feeling vindicated.

“Mr. Parrish, the older citizens of our community should be revered, not blasphemed. Your license is suspended and you now have one thousand continuous hours of community service. At the Aviary.”

He pounded the gavel. “Case closed.”

“This is a bird sanctuary?” Linc asked as his lawyer turned off the highway at Desert Springs and drove up and around the curved drive. Desert palms and a variety of flowering plants graced the front of a magnificent two-storied stucco house with tall white columns across the front. “I can hang out here for awhile. No sweat.” Harvey had explained that continuous service meant Linc had to stay there, but he had access to his cell phone and laptop, which were about all he needed to do his job.

“You just don’t get it, do you, Linc?” Harvey asked.

“Get what? I only had a couple of drinks and was driving home minding my own business. I got a ticket because some old lady pulled out in front of me. Otherwise, the cops would never have checked my breath.”

“No, I mean about being here.”

Linc shrugged. “How hard will it be to watch a bunch of birds for a month or two?”

Harvey laughed. “You’re on your own, boy.” He tossed Linc’s duffle on the ground beside the car. “Remember, no driving, and you’re stuck here for the duration.”

“No problem. I’ve got it covered.” Linc picked up the duffle, slung his laptop strap over his shoulder and sauntered up the steps. “I can handle birds; it’s that old bat who caused my problem.”

He walked into a foyer larger than his entire condo in Ventura Beach. All this for a bunch of birds? He shook his head, thinking some old lady with too much money must have left it all to her parakeet when she’d died. He didn’t really have anything against old people. After all, he had a grandpa in a retirement home nearby, but shit… Money like this could buy a good quarterback for the Forty-Niners football team.

He bent over to look at a directory that was attached to the wall only about four feet off the floor. A hand slid across his butt, lingering where his legs met his crotch. He jerked upright, whirled around and then had to glance down to find the culprit.

“Nice firm butt. Betcha got a lot of muscle under there.” A hunched-shoulder, old lady, not more than four feet tall, grinned lewdly up at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Copping a feel. Don’t tell me you didn’t like it?”

“Oh sure. Every guy likes getting felt up by some ninety-year-old lady.”

“Seventy-three, and honey if I ain’t dead, I still got working parts.” Her gaze slid over him, stopping at his crotch.

“That’s really gross.” He quickly looked around the entry, trying to figure things out. “Why is this directory so low?”

“Have you noticed the residents? They’re either short, in wheel chairs, or hunched over with age. How do you expect us to see it up at your altitude?”

“Residents?” Linc asked, a horrible suspicion making its way to the front of his brain. “I didn’t know birds could read?”

The old lady snorted. “Birds? You must have been sent over by Judge Blackbird.”

“Yeah, so?”

She laughed outright, shaking her head. “Gotta give Blackbird credit. You’re not the first youngun who didn’t know where he was going. Welcome to the Aviary.” She swept her arm in an arc to encompass the entire place. “A sanctuary for old birds and biddies, like myself.” She continued laughing as she walked toward a door in the centre of the far wall. “I’m Florence – just call me Flo -- Campbell. Come on. I’ll take you to Suni.”

Stunned, Linc followed her through the door and across a large open area awash with light from the windows on both sides. An area to one side held a television, piano and a couple of love seats and overstuffed chairs. Pink and white crepe paper streamers draped the archways and doors, and red paper hearts were taped haphazardly on the walls. Acid churned in Linc’s stomach. Birds didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.