Into The Night - Now Available At Loose Id

INTO THE WILD
Book 3 - Into The Heart Series
by Caitlyn Willows

Erotic Romance - Paranormal - Shape-shifter - Menage
November 2009
Cover Artist - Marci Gass
Loose Id

They’ve bonded as friends, working side by side over the last six months – jaguar shifter, human, and calico cat. Now a freak lab accident bonds Cristían, Jeremy, and Lupe as lovers.

Lupe delights in her new human form. Wishes can come true. They made her human and gave her the men she loves. She will defeat anyone who dares threaten her new status and her men.

Jeremy thrills yet fears his new role as shape-shifting jaguar, but his relationship with Lupe and Cristían are more than he ever dreamed. The mysteries left to be resolved and the people trying to kill them taint it all. One thing he knows…no one will separate them.

As for Cristían… He’s been blessed with love where he never expected to find it. Now a force from beyond tells him he created a monster only he can destroy. How can he do so knowing it could cost him the two people he loves the most? Or is he the monster he fears?
Excerpt:

The soft whirr of the centrifuge hypnotized Cristían Duarte. He stared, unblinking, while the red digital numbers ticked down. There was nothing else to do at this point but wait and hope.

It had to work. Please let it work.

He was running out of DNA. Replicating what he had had failed so far. Each time he needed an original source, and with Rose dead, there was little of the original DNA remaining. He'd extracted it from her toothbrush, hairbrush, the sheets where she'd last slept, and the ground soaked with the blood from her murder.

The memory stabbed through his gut. Her big brown eyes had stared lifelessly at the stars, her mouth frozen in a scream she didn't have time to utter. The coppery stench of blood had tainted the air, mingling with the stench of the wildfires that had plagued the surrounding area, creating a horror to add to those already crowded in his head. Her throat had been ripped open with one massive bite. She'd never seen it coming, never had the chance to defend herself.

Cristían closed his eyes. Only minutes prior to her death, his clan had been enjoying a well-deserved run in Balboa Park, never realizing death would visit them. Rose's death blow had been delivered from a threat they never knew existed—mountain lions, another clan of shape-shifters. Until a year ago, the mountain lions hadn't known about the jaguar clan either, and they weren't happy about the discovery.

The mountain lions were volatile and quick to defend their people from outside threats. Cristían couldn't really blame them. They'd lost everything to humans. And discovering other shape-shifters had brought to life stories they'd thought were myths. Tales from their ancestors of other shifters, of wars fought and civilizations destroyed. They were prepared to do whatever it took to protect themselves and their lands, even if it meant killing what they didn't understand.

Finally an uneasy peace was forged between their two clans. A treaty set in place. However, suspicions still lingered on both sides, and grief still clenched Cristían's heart.

He lined up the fifteen petri dishes into three rows of five, then laid out two glass pipettes, in the hope keeping busy would banish the memory. It didn't work.

The jaguar clan had lost a woman that dark night six months ago…and the children she carried. All their hopes and dreams for a future were now dust on the wind, Rose and her babies' ashes mingled with Mother Earth, as was custom. Cristían wished he could join them and was ashamed to admit he'd thought about it more times than was healthy. He'd kept those feelings to himself and poured out his grief and rage in body-racking sobs each night. Soaking one of Rose's pillowcases with his tears while he cried, then masturbating in a desperate attempt to reconnect with her. He knew he wasn't the only one who cried. Her death cut the clan to the core of their being. She was their heart, their hope for the future.

It was one of those things they didn't discuss; doing so would release the floodgates holding back all the grief and anger pent up from centuries of loss. Their homes and cities destroyed; family, friends, and lovers gone forever. When one was generally long-lived, forever was a very long time. Joining them in death…

Cristían swallowed against the pain. A coward's way out or a merciful end? He shook the darkness away. Death would mean a complete loss of hope. He refused to accept it. Two friends helped keep him whole. He wouldn't lay grief over his death upon their shoulders. Jeremy and Lupe deserved better than that.

He couldn't say when he took that step away from the dark abyss or what prompted his new plan. At some point, he realized Lupe had given him a reason to live, and Jeremy, the faith to try. Once he set foot on that path—remaining alive—nothing deterred him. What was the sense of having a state-of-the-art laboratory if not to use it to its fullest potential? New hope bolstered his morale, followed quickly by one failure after the other. He carried on, though, determined to find the solution, to continue setting measures in place for success.

He'd resurrect Rose or die trying.

“Brrrow?”

Smiling, he glanced down at the calico cat threading herself between his legs. Lupe truly had been his lifeline to sanity these last months. They'd met one day when he was helping Wyatt and Trina Caldwell move. Lupe had let Cristían know in no uncertain terms that she deemed him worthy enough of her attention. Cristían had bought Trina's old house, and Lupe moved in with him. However, neither of them had seen the place in months. The lab he currently did his research in had become their sanctuary; the sprawling mansion above it, their home.

He hated the cavernous house but loved the superior, high-tech lab. And it didn't take Cristían long to realize why Jeremy Gibson had moved into the house—why go home when everything you needed was right here?

It probably wasn't the wisest decision to have a cat in a lab, but Lupe was her own feline and would have her way. It helped that she was respectful of the experiments he and Jeremy worked on. Lupe's presence helped him and Jeremy deal with any residual loneliness and isolation as well, though that was nonexistent with his best friend by his side 24-7.

Lupe made sure they ate, comforted them when disappointment dragged them both down, and best of all, gave them unconditional love. All she demanded in return was affection, food, and to sleep in one of their beds. She never failed to make him smile or lift his spirits, and she was better than any girlfriend he'd ever had.

Cristían squatted down to her level. She batted the buttons on his lab coat, then tapped her paw against his chin. “No worries, little warrior.” He smiled when he said her nickname. The little cat had earned the title honorably when she'd fought a member of the mountain lion clan and won, paws down. Of course, that made her not very popular with that faction of shape-shifters, but to Cristían's jaguar clan, Lupe could do no wrong.

“What the hell is that cat doing in here?”

Cristían stiffened. Okay, perhaps one member of the jaguar clan wasn't a Lupe fan. Barry Page had always had his weasel-faced snout stuck so far in the rules that he shit protocol. Cristían watched as he trotted down the stairs and stormed their way. The loose black trousers Barry wore rippled under his forceful stride, the matching shirt molding to his torso. The color rarely varied. Barry claimed it helped remind him of his true self and their heritage, suggesting he was the only one who did so.

Lupe arched into the hand Cristían ran over her back, then cast her sage green gaze in Barry's direction and instantly dismissed him with a flick of her tail. Cristían tried not to laugh. He'd flicked his jaguar tail at Barry more times than he could count over their long association. Barry just wasn't someone he was eager to see.

“Leave her alone, Barry.” Distracted as always, Jeremy still didn't hesitate to come to Lupe's defense. He was always so quiet, so focused on his work, that Cristían usually forgot he was in the same room with him.

As Jeremy's reward, Lupe slinked his way and twined herself around his legs. “You're my best girl, Lups.” Jeremy gave her head a quick rub.

Barry snorted. “She's your only girl. You never leave the estate.”

“Everything I want is here, and I've got a hand that does just fine for personal tension.” Jeremy held up two beakers, one with clear liquid, the other, blue-green, studying them under ultraviolet light. “I'm on a roll here, and women have a tendency to sidetrack me.”

Cristían had never seen a man more determined to prove or disprove his own theory. Jeremy's dedication matched Cristían's. They shared the lab—Jeremy on one end of the long stainless steel counter, Cristían on the other—bounced theories off each other, and never once called the other one to task for seeking answers.

Barry picked a long blond hair from his sleeve, grimaced, then fed it to the flame on Jeremy's Bunsen burner. “Then maybe you should try a man.”

Jeremy grinned and watched the thickening liquids swirl in their glass containers. “Who says I haven't? You offering?”

That was a door Jeremy really didn't want to open. Barry could get…possessive. Cristían knew that from experience. In a clan whose numbers were dwindling, one got relief where one could, or went outside the clan, something Barry would never do. Barry didn't necessarily take what he wanted, but once he got something, he wasn't inclined to let go.

Jeremy poured a drop of blue-green liquid into the clear. “I could go for a blowjob. Just make sure you zip me up when you're done.”

Cristían smothered his laugh. It came out a sputtered snicker instead and earned him Barry's infamous snake-eyed glare.

“Whoa. Didn't expect that.” Jeremy drew back from the beaker he held. Lupe craned her neck for a look at what he was talking about. His concoction was now a small vortex of purple and gold. He poured the contents of both beakers into a larger one. He lifted the container to the light, his grin widening. The vortex grew, spinning faster. Pinpoints of glowing white flecked within. “It looks like a tiny nebula or galaxy. A star factory.”

“Just make sure it's only yourself you blow up when that shit explodes,” Barry said.

“And deprive you of the pleasure that is me?” Jeremy's grin widened more, his brown eyes glimmering. “Never.”

Lupe meowed and rubbed hard against him.

“Jealous, puss?” Barry laughed when she growled at him.

“Don't call her that.” Cristían watched the centrifuge's timer count down the final ten. “She doesn't like it.”

“What's wrong, puss? Don't like a little competition?” Barry swiped for her, grabbing her tail when Lupe tried to dodge him.

“Let her go!” Her yowl barely covered his and Jeremy's protests.

She hissed and rolled onto her back, claws and teeth bared. Jeremy kicked Barry's shoulder, sloshing his experiment on the floor. It splashed onto Lupe. She whirled around, eyes wide with fear. Barry grabbed the scruff of her neck and hoisted her into the air, holding the spitting little cat at arm's length.

Cristían and Jeremy took a step in his direction. However, as Cristían was more than aware, Lupe was completely capable of defending herself. She swung her lower legs up and speared her back claws into Barry's forearm. He screeched and let her go. Lupe landed on all fours. She gave him a dismissive chuff and a flick of her tail, then tucked behind Cristían's legs to clean her fur.

“If you had more experience with women, that might not have happened.” Cristían couldn't resist the jab. Barry deserved the rebuke and the bloody claw marks going down his arm. Cristían scooped Lupe into his arms. “It's probably not a good idea to lick that, little one. Let's get you cleaned up. No water. I promise.”

She purred and kneaded her paws into his chest. The centrifuge beeped out the end of its cycle. Great. His own experiment was ready for the next step. Lupe curled herself around his neck, leaving his hands free. He popped the top on the device and lifted out the tray of vials.

“I see there's no offer to help me.” Barry snagged a wad of paper towels from the stack on the opposite counter and dabbed at his wounds.

“You had it coming.” Cristían watched Jeremy study the glowing mass. Judging from his frown, it looked like another failure. The solution appeared to be losing momentum. Cristían felt his pain. He'd thought for sure Jeremy had had the breakthrough he'd been looking for.

“I'd say 'fuck you,' but I wouldn't want either of you to get your hopes up.” Barry pressed the towels against his arm.

“Our loss. More's the pity.” Cristían set the vials beside the petri dishes he'd prepared earlier, then carried Lupe over to the sink counter against the wall to wipe her fur. “Did you come down here for a reason or just to harass us about our work again?”

Barry smacked the paper towels into the biohazard trash can and stomped his way. “Your cougar's waiting for you upstairs.”

Frieda was there? This early in the morning? Was the sun even up yet? What the hell could she possibly want this time of day? She was a beautiful woman, but gods, was she a pain in the ass. If he didn't need her for the next phase of his experiment, he would have ended it long ago. Hell, he never would have become involved with her in the first place. Beauty only went so far; the woman had no substance.

“Mountain lion, Barry. Have a little respect. You know they're very picky about their name.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Mountain lion, cougar, puma. Lupe or puss.”

Lupe growled at him. Barry wasn't making any friends here today.

“Who gives a fuck? She's not happy you've kept her waiting, and she sure as hell can't keep her hands to herself. She was all over me.”

Typical Frieda. That's why it was so easy to lure her into his bed. She had the morals of an alley cat, not the bearing of a potential queen.

“I'm not very thrilled that one of them is at this estate.”

Cristían blotted a heavy paper towel over Lupe's thick fur. Deep purrs rumbled up. “It's part of the treaty the clans agreed to. The treaty you helped broker, remember?” Unrestricted access to everything the other possessed—and that included communal homes like the former Prentice estate—and all technology.

They were supposed to be open books to each other, in the hope their clans could benefit from one another's knowledge and grow and survive. It was only a matter of time before they all started working in each other's labs. Cristían hated the idea. They could use the lab at the Braden Science Institute all they wanted, but he sure as hell didn't want to be rubbing elbows with them at this lab. Here there was the luxury of privacy. Neither he nor Jeremy wanted to give that up. Not even to the jaguar clan. Considering Barry's near-constant presence, Cristían suspected tensions and suspicions were mounting at Braden over their exclusive use of the Prentice lab. It could be worse. Fortunately, Wyatt and Joaquin were too busy with business and babies. However, that left the worrying and grunt work to Barry.

“Yeah, I know all too well. Trust me, I'm monitoring the situation.” Barry leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. Lupe turned her back to him. “I don't like Frieda up there unsupervised. What if she comes down here?”

“They've all been down here before, and experiments are frequent on both sides of the fence. They won't know what we're doing.” Cristían parted Lupe's fur, chasing a drop that wiggled down to her skin. She sat down with a resigned sigh and started to clean Barry's blood off her paws.

“Do either of you know what you're doing?” Barry snapped his finger toward Jeremy. “Our Mensa genius is over there trying to disprove his own theory that celestial impacts helped create us shape-shifters in the first place. There are some who would view that as blasphemy. It's a slap in the face to all that our people revere.”

True, though Cristían had been too wrapped up in his own quest to think about the religious significance to both their peoples—jaguar and mountain lion. Considering everything the jaguar had been through, it was hard for Cristían to believe in unseen gods anymore.

One thing both clans had in common was the belief they were born of star dust. Jeremy's linking their ancestral origins with impact craters on Earth seemed to support that. Now he was trying to prove otherwise.

“And you—” Barry thrust that scolding finger at him. Cristían fought the urge to snap it in two. “If they knew what you were doing. Good gods, Cristían, you're trying to clone Rose!”

He bowed his head. Lupe braced her paws against Cristían's chest and butted her nose against his. He scooped her into his arms and let her cuddle him. He loved the feel of her soft fur between his fingers. It reminded him of Rose's when she shifted—soft, thick. Of the old days when their biggest worry was planning the next celebration of life.

Barry dropped his hand on Cristían's shoulder. “I miss her too. You know that. But this is wrong, especially now that the rest of our people have moved on to new relationships.” He might as well have said leprosy; his tone implied it.

Cristían shrugged off his touch and set Lupe on her feet. She sauntered over to see Jeremy. “I haven't moved on.”

“Then what do you call Frieda?” He jerked his thumb toward the stairs that led up into the main house. “Much as I dislike our association with these shifters, I certainly don't want us all to come to blows over a love affair gone wrong. If she's only a diversion for you, end it now, before things get out of control.”

Cristían squared his shoulders and faced the shorter man. “I can't. I need Frieda. If I'm successful, Rose will need a compatible host body. With her feline-shifter traits, Frieda fits that role to perfection.”

Barry's eyes bugged out. “Gods of hell, Cristían! You're no better than a skinwalker!”

Rage boiled up inside him. They'd fought that entity for years—an evil directly responsible for the genocide of Cristían's clan. There was no greater insult. Cristían's claws extended as his hands morphed into his black jaguar form. The clink of glass as Jeremy set his work aside cut through his anger. A moment later, he felt Jeremy's heat next to him. The intent was clear—Jeremy was making a stand with him, taking sides. Cristían refused to let his friend's blood spill over words, and fighting among themselves wasn't going to help matters. But Cristían wouldn't stand there and be insulted either.

He willed himself to shift back to human and seated the form in place with a deep breath.

“Get out,” he told Barry, jerking his chin toward the stairs. “While I'm still able to remember you loved Rose as much as the rest of us.”

Barry's lip curled. “If you're planning to do this, you've already forgotten.” A crisp pivot carried him away. His soft soles tapped on the linoleum, then scuffed up the stairs. Barry's gaze was locked on his cell phone as he punched in numbers, most likely to tattle to Wyatt and Joaquin. The door at the top opened and banged shut.

Blessed silence filled the lab. Cristían pulled in the strands of peace Jeremy and Lupe offered, shoved aside a sudden headache at the base of his skull, and returned to his experiment. Static arced from his fingers to the stainless steel table. Cristían muttered a curse and jerked his hand back. Slender bolts of electricity spread across the table and everything on it before it finally dissipated.

“What the hell…” One stride brought Jeremy to his side. “That shouldn't have happened.”

A loud pop cut in before Cristían could reply.

He and Jeremy swung their gazes to the reenergized liquid at Jeremy's workstation. It swirled, sizzled, and grew with every millisecond. Pop turned to bang, and it doubled in size. Sparks shot upward, showering miniature fireworks everywhere. Some kissed the floor spill. The droplets came to life. Spiral bands spread out and began to rotate counterclockwise. Lupe growled and backed away, one foot at a time. Her fur shimmered where the solution had splashed her earlier. And the mass in the beaker continued to grow, to pulse in time with the bands on the floor and the remnants dampening Lupe's fur.

Gods, what had they created? It looked like the thing was communicating with all its parts!

“Uh-oh,” Jeremy muttered.

Not something one wanted to hear in a lab.

“I think we need to get the hell out of here.” Jeremy scooped Lupe up in one arm. He grabbed his laptop in the other hand, leaving the cords behind while he kept one eye on the out-of-control experiment.

Cristían did the same, shoving as many of the petri dishes as possible into the pockets of his lab coat and praying he could get them to safety without breaking them. Then he stacked the vials on the laptop. They were the last part of Rose he possessed. He clutched the vials and the computer to his chest and spun around for the stairs.

Time slowed. Each step felt weighted. The roar built. Then the flash—gold, purple, beautiful. Breathtaking beauty, earsplitting noise, and then…nothing.

Secrets We Keep - Now Available

SECRETS WE KEEP
by Caitlyn Willows
Erotica - Contemporary (Menage) - Novel
November 2009
Amber Quill Press - Amber Heat
ISBN 978-1-60272-596-6

Secrets we keep from our spouse, our lover, each other...ourselves. Secrets buried inside, some to fester, some to bloom. Secrets on a collision course that can't be avoided and must breathe the light of day...

Dylan Mitchell is dedicated to two things -- his wife and his job. He's the agent who does whatever it takes to get his man, even if that means literally getting his man. It's part of the job, his duty. Besides, Dylan gets to hook-up with his hot-as-hell wife, Susan, once a month for a night of unfettered sex. It's all good. Right?

Ah...but those secrets.

It's not just a job anymore. Emotions are involved -- his, Susan's, and Cabot Logan's, the man Dylan is supposed to put behind bars. His two worlds aren't about to overlap, they're going to collide. Real world and undercover. Secrets revealed. Secrets Dylan's kept from himself.

But Susan has a secret of her own. So does Cabot. Those secrets and that of others are on a collision course of their own. And the aftermath will change everything...forever...

EXCERPT:

The bar was cooler than Susan Mitchell liked. It chilled her nipples, making the already hard points thrust high in her bra in a desperate attempt to keep warm. Or maybe they were just looking for him, anxious for the heat of his mouth, the flash of his tongue, the shafts of pleasure that shot through her when he suckled extra hard.

God, he could make her come from that alone…almost. The man knew his way around a woman’s body, knew how to take command and pull her to the pinnacle of ecstasy and keep her there until he was ready to make her come. Come hard and long, a full-body experience--the Holy Grail of orgasms.

He was adventurous, too. They both were.

Shivers quaked down her body. She bit back the moan that built from the memory of his hard body pressing deep into hers, filling her. Susan dipped her head to hide her smile as the bartender headed her way.

He slapped a thick, square white napkin on the polished oak bar in front of her. “What’s your pleasure tonight, ma’am?”

She bit back the response that he would be her pleasure. The statement fell under the realm of too much information. Instead, she gave the bartender a slight smile. “One Coke, two cherries.” No rum tonight. Susan wondered if he’d noticed, what she would say if he did. Rum and Coke was her drink. She really shouldn’t be having the Coke, but that would make him suspicious--something she couldn’t afford.

The bartender darted away to fill her order. Tiny ice cubes clinked into the tall glass. In less than twenty seconds, the man slid the drink in front of her, then dashed toward another customer four seats away before Susan could read the words etched along the vines and roses tattoo that snaked up his beefy arm. Good guy or bad guy? It was so hard to tell anymore.

She stared at the dark liquid, counting the bubbles that kissed the surface. Her hand shook as she lifted the glass. Condensation marked her fingerprints. Maybe she should have wrapped the napkin around it first.

Now you’re getting paranoid.

Who could blame her, considering all that was at stake.

Susan curled the napkin around the glass and smeared the prints she’d left there. It was the best she could do. Lips closed around the thin red straw, but she didn’t drink. Her stomach was a mass of butterflies with an added dose of queasy on top. A carbonated beverage wasn’t the best choice right now, but she couldn’t sit here and drink water without drawing more attention than she wished, and liquor was absolutely out.

She had to be alert, ready at a moment’s notice…for everything…and anything. Still, she had to maintain the ruse of bar patron, and Coke would suffice. The cherries were an extra bonus they’d enjoy once her date arrived. He’d trickle the juice down her throat and lick up until he reached her lips. Then he’d thrust his tongue between them, reclaiming her as his and his alone.

Susan hadn’t expected to be this nervous. It wasn’t like she was a virgin. After all this time, she should be used to these hook-ups. They’d certainly done more daring things before, but nothing this dangerous. She’d been a bundle of nerves and anticipation for days, bringing herself to orgasm whenever possible to quell the ache between her thighs. It did little to soothe or calm her heart. Even now, it pounded against her ribcage, waiting and wanting. Once the night was over, it’d break under the crushing loneliness left in the wake of this liaison.

“Make sure the pretty lady at the other end of the bar gets a refill.”

Susan glanced up at the sound of the man’s voice and caught his gaze in the mirror facing them. His lecherous smile widened as he lifted his beer in a toast Susan refused to return. She resisted the urge to point out he had foam stuck to his black pencil-thin mustache.

“No, thank you,” she replied. Polite, firm, and chilly. She prayed he got the message. These hard-won liaisons were their lifelines to sanity. Nothing must ruin them. The place was different each time, but their monthly appointments a given for six months standing.

She shifted her gaze to her own reflection, further shunning interest. She’d dressed for him, at his command. Long brown hair loose, black dress showing a hint of cleavage, but not too much, no hose, no panties, and four-inch heels that were killing her feet, but really made her calves look hot.

All right, maybe not as discreet looking and average as she was supposed to be, but they only met once a month, and he needed all his fantasies fulfilled in that single night. So did she, for that matter. Come morning, she’d be sore. Well-fucked, he called it. He wasn’t wrong.

Susan brushed her fingers over the strand of pearls around her neck. A single oblong pendant dangled from it, pointing to the valley of her breasts. This was new, sent to her only that morning with his instructions to wear it tonight. The odd clasp had been a son of a bitch to hook. She hoped the little clamps held. It had to have cost him a fortune, not that money was an issue for him. Not now anyway.

Her skin warmed under the necklace, imagining how it would feel when he removed the pearls and his hot lips replaced them. Susan crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs. Hard nipples now had a little friend joining them. All three points demanded attention, but the one nestled in the cleft of her body screamed for release. And it wanted it now.

Susan toyed with the stem of one cherry, flicking it back and forth, watching it bob on a sea of ice next to its partner. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus her thoughts away from him and from what tonight would bring. It had to be a sin to want someone so badly. If so, she’d gladly go to hell for it. She’d be headed there anyway for not sharing the secret she held inside with him tonight. He’d have to understand it was for his own protection, have to understand when things became too complicated to meet with him, have to understand when…

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and snapped her gaze back to the mirror at the same moment her would-be suitor slid onto the stool beside her. Couldn’t the guy take a hint? Alarm raced her heart. Could there be more to it? Had he been sent here to spy on them?

“May I help you?” Ice filled her words.

The man’s too-white grin blinded her. “Let me count the ways.”

“I’m meeting someone. Sorry, not interested.” Not now, not ever.

“Ah…husband.” He glanced at her left hand.

Susan looked, too, giving herself away. She’d removed her wedding band before she’d left the house, but the fact she’d looked was clear indication a ring should be on her finger. No tan line marked the spot. They were careful about that. Oh-so-careful about so many things…and foolishly negligent with others.

“That’s okay,” he said, leaning closer. He reeked of booze. “I like a little walk on the wild side myself.”

He dropped his hand to her knee. Susan jerked away and wrapped her fingers around her clutch purse. She’d deck the guy if she wasn’t so afraid a scene would draw the wrong attention.

“No, thank you.” She hopped from the stool. The man blocked her exit. He moved fast for a drunk.

“Come on, baby. A woman like you is either a pro or a horny housewife on the prowl. Either way I’ve got the stuff to deliver.”

She bit back a scathing retort.

He edged closer, nailing her in place with his hands locked at her sides on the bar. Susan’s stomach roiled from the cloud of alcohol pouring off him. Her rising anger chased away the urge to gag.

Where the hell was the bartender? Or did the jerk think a woman like her didn’t deserve protecting?

A knee to the crotch? Her drink dripping from his pointy nose? Both sounded great, but were far from the low profile she was supposed to maintain. Any deviation would end her night before it got started, and could eliminate future dates sooner than she wanted--a thought she couldn’t bear since circumstances were going to end their hook-ups in three months. Until then, she wanted every minute they could steal.

The edge of the bar dug into Susan’s back and pushed her chest out. The guy moved in for the kill. She leaned farther away. If he so much as breathed on her, she’d--

“Hey! You! Back off!” the bartender snapped.

Finally.

Then long fingers clamped over the man’s shoulder, fingers she’d recognize anywhere. Susan sagged with relief.

“You heard the man.” Dylan’s deep voice caressed her. “The lady’s not interested.”

The guy jerked his chin around, glaring up at Dylan. “How would you know?”

Dylan’s grip tightened. Susan gloried in the wince twisting the other man’s face. Both men wore dark gray suits, but Dylan filled his with the bulk of a linebacker, while this jerk looked like he’d been playing in his father’s closet.

“Because she’s mine.”

She held her breath waiting for Dylan to add, Bought and paid for. The words went unspoken. Instead, he wedged his hips against the guy’s ass, threatening him in a different way. “Unless you’d rather take her place.”

The man’s eyes and mouth widened with horror. “No fucking way. I’m getting the hell out of here.” He scrambled for freedom, but not before Dylan added another hip thrust to make sure the guy got the message. Then Dylan stepped to one side. The man took off like the hounds of hell snapped at his heels.

It was hard not to laugh. Harder still not to wrap her arms around her hero. Impossible to bank the love she knew blazed from her eyes.

Dylan didn’t call her on the lapse from protocol. He gave her a wink with his smile, then caught her fingers in his own. The devil danced in his golden brown eyes; angels blessed his magnificent body.

“Come, sweetness. I believe a darkened booth is calling our names.”

She gripped the lifeline he offered, knees shaking with every step she took forward. “We aren’t going to your room?”

He burrowed his face into her hair until his lips met her ear. “Such impatience. I’m in the mood to savor the experience tonight.” He flicked his tongue around her ear, then nipped the lobe. “Come.”

She bit back the urge to tell him she’d like nothing better than to come. Right here, right now.

The Delilah Complex by M.J. Rose (Review)

This was Book 2 of M.J. Rose's Dr. Morgan Snow stories. The books do not have to be read in order to enjoy them.

As with the first story (The Halo Effect), I found the characters (Morgan Snow and Noah Jordain) very engaging and entertaining. Their chemistry sizzles off the pages. The story itself was very good and kept the pages turning. Not only does the author take us through another mystery for Morgan to solve, she also delves into Morgan's character as well. Morgan isn't a perfect person. She's struggling to come to terms with her own sexuality and her attraction to Noah, her relationship with her maternal figure and boss, her divorce, and her relationship with her adolescent daughter. All round out the story and the character very nicely.

New Review: Betrayed by Cassie Stevens

BETRAYED
Book 3 - Together
by Cassie Stevens
M/M Erotic Romance - Short Contemporary
April 2009
Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure
ISBN 978-1-60272-508-9

The hardest betrayals are the ones that hit you in the heart...when you're stabbed in the back.

In the aftermath of the murder of his ex-wife, Damien Walker turns to the one man he knows can help him and his sons through the ordeal. Vic Williams' love and support is unconditional. So is the hate and rage his mere presence generates. Betrayal comes quick and from within, from persons who would rather see the men lose everything than to allow them one second of happiness. A betrayal that forces Damien to make hard decisions and admit even harder truths.

Betrayed is a great conclusion, to the angst ridden rollercoaster ride Cassie Stevens has presented to her readers. There were many unexpected twists and surprises in this conclusion and the actions of some of the characters were appalling, and demonic. Betrayal was the theme of this story and the ultimate betrayal came by the hands of those that were supposed to be nurturing, loving and trusted. The tragedy of the situation Damien had to face was only bearable with Vic by his side, the two discovered new strengths within each other to help them through this time. Betrayed is a great read and I very much enjoyed how Ms. Stevens wrapped it all up. For better enjoyment of this series the books should be read in the order they were published.

Read the full review here

Review - Warprize by Elizabeth Vaughan

I absolutely loved this book! Very, very highly recommended!

I wish I could find the appropriate words. Kier is a hero to die for. Lara a true queen, though her role is that of healer. When Kier defeats the kingdom of Xy, one of his conditions for peace is that Lara come to him as Warprize. Lara agrees, for her people, for the safety of Kier's people, for peace. She agrees having been told by her half-brother, the increasingly insane King Xymund, she is to be Kier's slave. And everyone's life is forever changed in ways none could ever imagine.

To say anything more will give away the story and the richness of a wonderful read.

I cannot wait to read the next book. This author is now on my auto-buy list.

Seeing Red by Susan Crandall

Review

Seeing Red by Susan Crandall

You know a book is good when you're in the dentist's chair more worried about that happens next in the book while you're waiting for the Novocaine to kick in.

This was my second book by Susan Crandall and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I already have her next release on my Amazon Wish List and am eyeing her backlist.

In Seeing Red we have a hero and heroine reunited after 15 years when the man convicted of murdering the heroine's cousin is paroled. The hero has been watching the heroine from a distance all these years, making sure the one person who always believed in him is safe. With the murderer paroled and having threatened her in the past, the hero is back to protect her. However, the heroine has done a very good job of learning to protect herself, thanks to the hero's previous guidance. This makes the hero and heroine very well matched for each other, with him being that Alpha male we all love to see so much in our stories, and she being the perfect Alpha female for him.

Highly recommended.

Tangled Web by Cassie Stevens - Now Available

TANGLED WEB
by Cassie Stevens
M/M Erotic Romance - Novel
May 2009
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure
ISBN 978-1-60272-523-2
Purchase Link: www.amberallure.com/TangledWeb.html

Some ancient histories are best left unexcavated.

Given their occupation, Rick Ramone and Val Lancaster were destined to meet. They even knew the date and time...until someone else's agenda pushed them together sooner than they'd anticipated. All Rick and Val want--besides each other--is to research ancient civilization, not trek through the rain forest on a rescue mission that weaves suspicion with every step.

A tangled web of lies. The refuse of someone else's past affairs. With each strand of deceit unfurled, Rick and Val discover they have much more in common than a degree in archaeology.

Excerpt:

Rick Ramone stood before the sealed crypt, wiping the sweat from his brow -- a combination of anxiety, excitement, and the humidity of the Guatemalan rain forest. He didn't dare let his hopes rise too high. In the last two months, he and his colleague, Scott Shephard, had discovered four such crypts in this ancient Maya city. Each time they thought the crypts might be in pristine condition they met with disappointment -- looters had violated every one in search of treasure. The remains of each find -- still valuable for the information they provided -- had been left to the junior archaeologists of their team to study and catalog, while he and Scott searched in other directions. They had a six-month window of time, after which the chances of being allowed back to this particular area for the next season were slim...unless they found something big.

In the last month, they'd tunneled through enough earth to build a mountain, removing boulders of limestone in steamy tropical heat, poor ventilation, and dim light. After days of frustration, their latest search had now ended over a thick layer of chert, a clear Maya sign of a crypt below. And there, beneath the quartz chips, lay the capstones -- the top of the tomb itself.

Taking opposite sides, Rick and Scott wedged crowbars under the largest slab and pried it off, praying the capstone didn't shatter. There was a poof as centuries-old air escaped -- a good sign this tomb hadn't been violated. A miracle in and of itself. They waited for the stale air to dissipate, mopping sodden handkerchiefs over their faces. Rick twisted his into a band and tied it around his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes.

"You want to go first?" He wiped his hands over the seat of his jeans.

Scott slicked back his damp blond hair and reseated his straw hat. Hours in the sun had weathered the corners of his eyes into deep brown crinkles.

"It's your turn to go first." He clapped Rick on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Rick gave a single nod and lay flat on the ground near the opening. After taking a deep breath, he wedged his upper body through the tomb ceiling and fanned a flashlight around the enclosure. His breath caught at the sight.

Against one wall lay the skeletal remains of a long-dead Maya. Pottery surrounding the remains contained remnants of liquids and food. Tiny bone and jade figurines also lay about. On the walls, only a single hieroglyphic painting adorned the tomb.

They'd finally done it. He could hardly believe his eyes, and blinked just to make sure he wasn't imagining it. No doubt about it. This was part of a royal tomb -- the find of a lifetime. Afraid he'd pull out and learn it was all a dream, Rick finally forced himself to crawl away from the passage. Scott's expectant face hovered inches away, blue eyes wide and anxious.

"Well?"

"It's clean." The words came out in whispered, awestruck wonder. Rick cleared the emotion from his throat with a cough and brushed dirt from his denim shirt. "We're the first to see this tomb in fifteen centuries." He slapped the flashlight into his friend's hand.

Without hesitation, Scott ducked into the hole for a look. Minutes later, he pulled out, speechless with wonder. "Ohmygod," finally whispered out.

Rick grinned at the validation of his feelings echoed in his best friend's voice. "I couldn't have said it better myself. I'll start taking pictures. You tell the others."

Still half dazed, Scott stumbled toward camp to spread the news, while Rick busied himself with outside photographs. With each click of the button, he added another item to his mental to-do list. This was a chance of a lifetime -- his and Scott's first truly major find. He'd never forget this moment. Yes, others could do the work, but this was...

He nearly laughed out loud -- this was theirs. The culmination of years of study, hard work, and determination. They'd gone through a lot to get to this point. There were times the dream seemed out of reach -- especially in those years Scott went through the University of San Diego on a full scholarship while Rick did a stint in the Marine Corps to pay for college on a GI bill. But here they were, a true testament to what the words "best friends" meant.

Scott had even stuck by him when Rick came out about being gay. Not too many others had. They were too afraid he'd "get" them. Though some came around, Rick never forgot the slight. He forgave it, but didn't forget.

He glanced up at the sound of stampeding feet. This time he did laugh. Scott led the charge back to the site, while other members of their team ran behind him overladen with a ladder and floodlights.

"Is there anyone left back at camp?" he asked.

"If there is, they won't be there long," Scott replied.

Rick laid the Minolta inside his backpack, zipped it up, and squatted near the opening with him. Taking care to avoid a cave-in, the team pushed the capstones all the way off to widen the entrance, set the floodlights in place, and threaded the ladder through the hole.

"Now, you go first." Rick waved his hand toward the ladder.

Sketchpad and pencil clutched in his grip, Scott didn't hesitate to take the lead. Rick grabbed his backpack and followed on his heels...or rather, his fingers. They descended slowly, in awe of their surroundings. A dry, musky smell surrounded them in the coolness of the tomb, so did the silence. If anyone above them spoke, Rick didn't hear them.

"So much to do and so little time left," Rick muttered as he pulled the camera from his pack and lifted it to his eye. Flash after flash highlighted the magnificence of the interior. He added more items to the growing list of things he wanted to accomplish before the season ran out.

"True, but I doubt either of us will be able to sleep. We can make good use of those hours." Scott was optimistic as always. No one was more upbeat and positive. "Don't forget, we've got the interns arriving soon -- they can do the cataloging. I wish we'd had an opportunity like that when we were starting out. I probably would have shit myself if I'd catalogued a find like this my first trip."

"Me, too." Hell, he was ready to shit himself now with excitement. "I'm really glad we were allowed to do it." The interns were semi-qualified help -- they had the education, now needed the experience -- Rick and Scott sorely needed.

They'd fought a quiet yet steady battle with their university and finally won the approval to hire interns, convincing the board of regents that offering this field adventure would add prestige to the university and possibly increase enrollment. Nothing could be better for their fledgling archaeologists than a little hands-on experience. It had been a satisfactory victory; they'd be arriving in three weeks. Unfortunately, the group was limited to those who could afford to pay for the trip themselves, which was a major selling point with the board of regents. Eventually Rick and Scott hoped the university would be willing to bear the cost for those who showed the greatest potential. With a find like this, they might find backers elsewhere, too.

Rick's media card filled up about the same time as Scott's sketching arm gave out, yet they were both still reluctant to leave. Unfortunately, with the clock ticking, they knew other work needed to start, so they ascended the ladder. The season's end was a scant four months away. Even with interns arriving, Rick and Scott still had a hell of a lot of work to accomplish in too short a period of time.

Rick had stepped from the top rung when Corbett hurried their way. The man looked more like a tourist on vacation than an archaeologist. He wore Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and huaraches...always, showing off yellowed feet, cracked and dry, with toenails so thick an arc welder couldn't cut them. The sight grossed Rick out every time.

Corbett lifted a wave Rick's way. "I just got back from a supply run. Brought a visitor for you back with me -- your dad."

What the...

"That can't be good news," Scott muttered.

"I suspect not." Rick dusted his hands on his jeans and pulled the handkerchief off to wipe his sweat away. It didn't help.

"I hope Naomi's all right."

"If she wasn't you'd know. She'd tell you herself." If she could. Now Rick worried.

Scott and Naomi were so much in love it was a wonder they weren't joined at the hip. She'd wanted to come on the dig this year, but obligations at Ramone Import/Exports kept her occupied. That and the fact August Ramone pitched a royal fit over the very idea of his precious granddaughter living in the rain forest for six months. The old man wasn't thrilled Rick was here, but then Rick had also refused to live his life by his grandfather's edicts or with the family money. August had come close to a having coronary when Rick revealed his sexuality, which made everything prior to that announcement pale in comparison. And still the man tried to manipulate Rick to fall in line with his plans -- which had nothing to do with anything other than himself or his company.

"Want me to go with you?" Scott asked.

No telling what had brought his father here, but Rick doubted it was good news. Scott was nearly family. The only person who had trouble accepting that fact -- his grandfather -- wasn't here. And Scott would most probably worry himself sick over why Charles Ramone had come to see Rick. Scott wouldn't be doing anything but pacing while Rick talked to his father.

"Yeah...come on."

They strode across the compound, stopped every so often by someone wanting more scoop on their discovery, only to dash off to see for themselves. The excitement was contagious. Rick couldn't wait to get back to work. With each step dread built. It wasn't good news. Good news would have brought his father right to the tomb they'd just uncovered, wanting to share their joy. But he was sequestered in the tent Rick and Scott shared. Not good.

Rick stopped short when he walked into the tent and saw his father pacing a slow path in the limited space. His heart raced, dreading the words to come. Anxiety rolled off Scott, who stood behind him. His father glanced up. They regarded each other silently for a few seconds. Each was a mirrored reflection of the other; the only exception was a sprinkling of gray in his father's dark brown hair.

"Rick." His father gave him a nod. No hug, no smile, just a nod. "Scott." Another nod to him.

"Dad." Rick stepped all the way in, letting the screened tent flap fall. Scott ducked it and stood beside him.

"Something's wrong," Scott said. "Naomi? Charles...is it Naomi?"

His father looked away. "Let's sit, shall we?" He motioned to the cots, then sat in one of the two canvas camp chairs.

Scott sank onto the cot. Rick eased down beside him and leaned forward, elbows on knees, palms open.

"Just give it to us, Dad. All at once."

His father nodded and let out a breath. "A short time ago, word reached us of a Central American Indian tribe caught in the middle of a drug war. Their village is located on the Honduran-Nicaraguan border -- eastern end. Not far from Puerto Lempira. A dozen people from our company formed a team to go down there. Help them move to a safer area. Offer first aid. Take them food, clothing, and medical supplies. I was against the idea from the start, so was Jay. But..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at them. "Your grandfather thought it was a wonderful idea. Thought it would be good PR for the company. So our people went -- we lost contact with them a week ago. The GPS signal just...died. We understand there's been a lot of fighting in that area and are concerned our people have been hurt." His Adam's apple bobbed with his hard swallow. "Naomi went with them."

Scott muffled whatever curse burst out, but the white-knuckled fist on his thigh told how he felt about the news.

Rick didn't blame him. He could barely breathe, much less think. What the hell was his grandfather thinking? What was Naomi thinking?

"What's being done to find them?" Rick managed to ask, although he had a sneaking suspicion what the answer would be.

"That would be the other reason I'm here," his father replied. "You have military training and have worked this region many times. Who better to go than you? Jay's gathering a dozen more people for a new group. He's even hiring a nurse to accompany them in case he needs the extra medical help. He's taken care of most of the details on our end, but he doesn't know the language or the area the way you do. He doesn't have the skills you do. We need your help."

As if he would hesitate. "I'll leave right away."

His father retrieved a thick brown leather packet from the ground and handed it to him. "Here's a map of the region and money to pay expenses for this expedition. Jay and the others will meet you in La Ceiba day after tomorrow. I'll wait in Tegucigalpa for word."

Rick frowned. "Why there and not La Ceiba?"

"I have other business to take care of there."

Of course, efficient as always. Why not mix in a little business while he waited for someone to save his daughter from this asinine scheme. "I can be ready to leave in under an hour. We'll ride out together."

"You're sure as hell not going without me," Scott told them.

Rick wanted to remind him about the site they'd uncovered, its importance, the fact time was limited. Inconsequential in light of this revelation. Nothing was more important than the one you loved.

"Good." Rick stood. "Let's get packed."

Scott snagged his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Ready."

If only everything was as simple. Finding Naomi sure as hell wouldn't be. Rick prayed they'd find her alive...and unharmed. Considering the unrest in this part of the world, he knew he was asking for a miracle.