Posts Tagged With: Romantic Suspense

After Christmas #Sale by @AnitaPhilmar

BlackDragonboxset

This is the complete set for the price of one book $2.99.

1st Book – Black Dragon’s Blood

Amanda Spencer has spent years searching for clues to her first husband’s murder. Now, she is close, too close to let William VanHorn get in the way. He wants to claim her as his wife, but she doesn’t have time to satisfy the man’s needs. She wants answers, not sex.

Set on fire by Amanda, William won’t let the lady escape. If she wants answers, he’ll get them. As head of the Dragon Center, he has connections and nothing will stop him from capturing her heart.

Excerpt:

William blocked her path before she could take more than two additional steps; a gift of his blood to be able to react so quickly.

Her curse was to smell his heat, to know his need, to want him inside her, making her blood boil. Luckily, the human part of her nature controlled her actions, reminded her of past heartache.

“A woman with your level of dragon blood needs a man, needs to have his children.” His strong hand circled her forearm. She sensed the heavy pulse of his blood beating against her tender skin.

“Not a possibility, William, even if I did agree to marry you.” She tugged her arm from his grasp. “I’ve been married twice. In neither case did I have a child. With you, it would be no different.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you telling me you’re unable to bear children?”

“You’re an intelligent man, William. What do you think?”

“Your father didn’t tell me this.”

“Yes, well, why would he? It would have been counterproductive to his plan, wouldn’t it?” The angry tightening of his jaw told Amanda she’d gained her freedom.

Stepping around him, she slid the door open on the metal railing and stood for a moment staring at his back. Other more pressing business required her attention. If she was lucky, she could get home, pack and get out of town before William picked up her trail again.

“Good luck finding some other lady to meet your needs, William.”

 

Book 2 – Black Dragon’s Moon

Dragon Center agent, Dee Butterfield, finally has the job she’s always longed for. On her first assignment, her job is to protect sculptor, Scott VanHorn. His rich dragon blood tempts her into an affair that could not only jeopardize her career but possibly her life.

Determined to find out who killed his best friend, Scott poses as a struggling artist to help the Dragon Center investigate a corrupt art dealer. He has ulterior motives for requesting Dee as his protector, getting her in his bed not the least of them. However, Scott soon realizes his mistake.

When the mission becomes more dangerous than either of them anticipate, Scott’s black dragon blood stirs to protect Dee while hers calls for retribution.

Excerpt:

“It doesn’t matter you’re not looking at me as a potential mate. We’re only here to have a little fun.”

His dark eyes narrowed to small slits. “The terms of engagement?”

She stepped closer. Her silk covered breasts brushed against his broad chest. The sexy purr of the fabric whispered between them. “I’ll be honest I want to make love to you. But I’m not interested in anything more serious.”

“No ties,” His burning gaze ran over her face. Hot hands gripped her hips, “is that it?”

“You got it. I want to keep my job as a Dragon Center agent. That can’t happen if I get married.”

His eyes shifted to her mouth, hunger flared in their darkness. A swipe of his tongue moistened his lips. The hands on her hips slid over her backside, pressing her into his rock-hard erection. She shivered.

“We’re only going to have a little fun.” Her hands worked their way around his neck. “Agreed?”

He moved his lips within a breath of hers before he responded. “No.”

His mouth claimed hers. –

Read more at http://www.anitaphilmar.com/bdmchapter.html

Book 3 – Black Dragon’s Heart

Devoted chemist, Sarah VanHorn, lives for her research but fantasizes about loving Jake Ramsey. Her two worlds collide when the dragon center agent arrives to rescue her from the company suspected of producing chemicals dangerous to those with dragon blood.

Sarah’s not the only one with fantasies. Jake wants Sarah as his mate and he’s waited years to claim her. Now, under his protective custody—not to mention the influence of Syndetic’s sexual stimulant scenting the air—he can’t resist the fiery temptation to finally make her his.

But when tragedy strikes and their dreams are threatened, will Sarah sacrifice her career, Jake, and possibly her life to discover the answers? And will Jake let her?

Excerpt

The plan of waiting until after the final security check of the night before making his appearance raced through his mind. He couldn’t afford for any of the guards to overhear their conversation.

Had he over simplified things?

Before he determined his course of action, Sarah hit the magnetic mechanism of her dress. Her lush breasts fell forward, free from the confines of the material. She slid the garment off her shoulders and cupped her breasts, holding them in her delicate hands like a gift.

Jake almost swallowed his tongue. Desire pooled in his loins.

She exited his line of sight, and he took a silent breath to replace the one he’d been holding. The sweet scent of apple blossoms filled his lungs.

Dragon dung. He’d forgotten how an innocent woman smelled like pure paradise.

The blankets on her bed shifted. A rustling sound echoed through the room. He imagined her removing the rest of her clothes. A tick later, he caught a brief glimpse of her in a red robe, and then she stepped into the wash room.

The click of the door closing allowed him the freedom to shift his position. He cursed the dragon blood running through his veins. He normally redirected his lust without a problem, but with his current dry spell, Sarah’s scent slammed him against the limits of his self-control.

But she’d be under the blankets soon. A few deep breaths later, he relaxed and centered his mind on the strategy for their upcoming escape.

The door to the washroom whispered opened.

Her shadow passed directly in front of the screen, and then she slid into bed and the lights dimmed.

Her form shifted under the blanket. In a few moments, the guard would lock the outside bolt.

Then he’d explain his mission.

Read the first scene at http://www.anitaphilmar.com/bdhchapter.html

Purchase the Paperback book from:

The Wild Rose Press

Amazon

ebook: 

Amazon

Enjoy,

Anita Philmar

Categories: 69 Shade Of Smut, Books | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What if the only way to get someone out of your house is murder?

Welcome back to Cottonmouth! Woohoo, a new release! Can’t Forget You, Cottonmouth Book 3!Can't Forget You photo cantforgetyou2_3003_zpsc927c0cb.jpg

I hope readers are as happy to return to Cottonmouth as I am! You’ll meet Nick and Bobbie from She’s Gotta Be Mine Book 1, and catch up with Brax and Simone from Fool’s Gold Book 2! I loved coming back to Cottonmouth after so long! But just to keep things interesting, I’ve created a whole new set of characters to introduce readers to as well. Here’s a blurb to whet your appetite!

There’s something very special about the house Maggie grew up in. It’s sort of…alive. With a mind of its own.

And it has plans for the people living there now.

All Maggie Halliday has left after the divorce is the family dog and the home her grandmother left to her when she passed away two months ago. Maggie’s got no other choice but to run back to her hometown of Cottonmouth, California, only to discover her high school sweetheart, Cooper Trubek, is living in the house, along with four other boarders for whom Maggie is now responsible. And according to Nana’s will, Maggie can’t kick any of them out.

Unless one of them commits murder.

Still grieving for her grandmother and trying fix up the house that seems to be falling down around her, Maggie’s got more trouble than she can handle. Then things go from bad to worse when Samson the dog starts digging in the basement…

Samson so amused me. I loved writing in his point of view. I think my Star must have been a little bit like Samson, even though they look entirely different. I also fell in love with Principal Owen Sterling, and I think readers might find his story coming sometime in the future, too!

Here’s what The Book Sage had to say about Can’t Forget You!

“I’m used to Jennifer’s erotica (writing as Jasmine Haynes), which I thoroughly enjoy. This one is a humorous romantic mystery, with a few interesting elements thrown in. Do you want to know what a dog is thinking? How about a house that fixes itself and dispenses pages of a journal on an “as needed” basis? Or a romance that is strictly NOT erotic? Can’t Forget You has all of these things. Here’s something you need to know about Jennifer Skully/Jasmine Haynes. She can really write – no matter which genre she chooses.”

You’ll find great reading recommendations over at The Book Sage. I’ve loved every one of the books he’s recommended to me so be sure to check out his blog.

So I have to tell you about a special deal! She’s Gotta Be Mine will be part of a new romance anthology called Love is a Mystery: Six Novels of Love, Laughter, and Lawbreaking. A little mystery, a lot of laughs, and whole lot of romance! The bundle will only be available for 90 days, and we’re offering it for only .99. That’s 1400 pages of Kindle reading! So if you haven’t read She’s Gotta Be Mine yet, here’s the way to do it, plus you’ll get 5 other novels! Here’s a line-up of the fabulous authors. photo LoveIsAMysteryBundle_1400px2_zpse79b2c86.jpg

In FROSTED SHADOW by Nancy Warren, there’s nothing pretty about murder. When a cosmetics sales rep is murdered at the annual convention, only Toni Diamond, a sleuth who understands how to make appearances deceiving, can see into the mind of this killer.

In SHE’S GOTTA BE MINE by Jennifer Skully, what better way to show her ex what he’s missing in the made-over Bobbie Jones than taking up with the local bad boy—who’s also reputed to be a serial killer. That is, until a real murder rocks the little town of Cottonmouth.

In THE HONEYMOON COTTAGE by Barbara Cool Lee, Camilla Stewart finds too late that escaping her past won’t be easy. Because local sheriff’s captain Ryan Knight realizes that Camilla and her son Oliver may be the only people alive who can identify a serial killer… and they are next on his hit list.

In STEAMED by Holly Jacobs, cleaning is murder on the manicure. Quincy Mac is a maid in LA—a maid who’s accidentally cleaned a murder scene. Now she’s a suspect with only one option—find the real murderer before she ends up in jail.

THE ZEN MAN by Colleen Collins is a 21st-century Nick and Nora tale. It’s just another ho-hum Christmas party until a murder lands private eye Rick Levine in the slammer on first-degree murder charges. Released on bond, Rick and his girlfriend Laura have 30 days to find the real killer.

In CAUGHT YOU LOOKING by Shelley Adina, when it comes to love and crime, who’s catching whom? Hot on the trail of a technology thief, PI Duncan Moore thinks he’s found him, but he needs proof. So he asks Mallory Baines if he can do surveillance from her upstairs bedroom—which would be great except her family thinks he’s moved in and wedding bells are imminent!

You can find Love is a Mystery at all these retailers. And remember, it’s only out there for 90 days! Kindle Kindle UK Nook Nook UK iBookstore iBookstore AU iBookstore UK Kobo

Okay, one more thing! Then I’ll give you the first chapter of Can’t Forget You!

Now you can Somebody’s Lover, Somebody’s Ex, and Somebody’s Wife together in one bundle! The Jackson Brothers 3-book Bundle is available everywhere: Kindle Kindle UK iBookstoreNookKobo All Romance CoffeeTime
 photo jacksonbrothers_3003_zps3146b0f2.jpg

 

And now, here’s Chapter One!

Can’t Forget You

Cottonmouth Series, Book 3

Copyright 2014 Jennifer Skully

Chapter One

Her ex-husband got the new wife, the new baby, the house, the SUV, and their daughter Evie’s undying devotion.

Maggie Halliday got the dog.

“You’re such a good dog. What would I have done without you?” she crooned as she stroked Samson’s snout. Along with his snub pit bull face, stout bulldog body, and Australian shepherd markings, Samson had the sweetest of natures.

Maggie rolled down the windows to let the October breeze waft through the old minivan’s interior. At noon, the air was warm, but it carried the promise of a cooler season. She’d parked beneath a massive oak along a tree-lined lane on the outskirts of Cottonmouth, the hometown she hadn’t visited in twenty years. Less than three hours north of San Francisco, Cottonmouth was a lifetime away.

Across Garden Street sat the weathered Victorian house of her childhood. White shutters had aged to gray, and the roof was minus some shingles, like a faded old lady caught without her dentures. Crab grass, weeds, and gophers had long since choked the lush lawn out of existence. To the left of the front steps, the porch sagged, the support column sinking beneath the overhang’s weight. Its chains broken, the porch swing lay forlorn beneath the dining room window. The paint was peeling, and the dormer windows in the third-floor attic looked as if they’d been sealed shut with time and rot.

A man appeared around the corner of the house, a tool belt at his waist, a stack of two-by-fours balanced on his shoulder. She hadn’t ogled anyone in more years than she could count, but there was something about him. The T-shirt molded to his chest and the jeans hugging his thighs started a flutter low in her belly.

Dumping the wood on the scrubby earth, he went down on one knee to shove what looked like a car jack under the edge of the porch. As he cranked the handle, the sagging support column rose, lifting the overhang. When it was level, he nestled a wooden square between the base of the column and the concrete it rested on. The repair was a stop-gap measure in a slow decline that brought an ache to Maggie’s heart. The house was all she had left of her grandmother.

A black Lexus purred to a stop on the gravel shoulder behind her. Maggie waited for the lawyer to get out of his car. Stacked in the back of the minivan, the detritus of her life obscured most of the view out the back window. Boxes and suitcases filled with clothing, photos, kitchen gadgets, an ancient computer, and other odds and ends were all she’d claimed from her marriage.

The door of the Lexus banged shut. Samson chuffed like a steam engine. He didn’t like loud noises, hated to be yelled at, and was afraid of strangers—at least for the first fifteen minutes. After sniffing feet, pant legs, and various body parts, be they private or otherwise, he was friends for life.

Except for Ray, Maggie’s ex-husband. Samson had cowered before Ray from the moment she and Evie brought the pound dog home. Ray hadn’t even yelled at him yet. Ray Halliday wasn’t an animal person. He said they were too hard to control. Then again, Ray wasn’t a people person either. They were also too hard to control.

Maggie scratched the dog’s ear. “Be a good boy,” she crooned, then climbed out of the van.

Elton Cook was tall, gaunt, and pasty-faced. He’d have made a perfect undertaker. Or a cadaver. Instead, he’d been her grandmother’s lawyer, looking as ancient when Maggie was a child as he did now.

An oak branch scratched the top of his gray hair as he stared at the crabbed lawn, the missing shingles, the sagging porch, and the handyman shoring it up.

“This isn’t possible.” He turned to Maggie, eyes deep and dark in his skeletal face. “Right?”

She guessed what he was driving at. “You didn’t hire the handyman?”

Maggie certainly hadn’t. Her grandmother had died two month ago, leaving Maggie the house and the boarders living inside it. She blinked away the pain at the renewed sense of loss. Officially divorced for six months, a week ago Maggie lacked even a home—the dingy apartment she’d been living in didn’t count. Ray had bought her out of the house, but with the second and third mortgages they’d taken out for remodeling and Evie’s college fund, there hadn’t been much equity to distribute. The trust fund her grandmother had left for maintenance wasn’t going to cover all this. And though she’d gotten money out of the divorce settlement, it wouldn’t last long if she had to spend it on house repairs.

“It didn’t need a handyman a month ago.” Elton Cook whispered, as if the house itself might overhear and fall down as a consequence.

In Maggie’s estimation, it had needed a handyman for a long time. Turning it into a boardinghouse obviously hadn’t earned enough for all the necessary repairs.

“I’m sure my grandmother did the best she could.” A hole opened wide in Maggie’s chest as she thought of all the lost years she’d let build between her grandmother and herself.

“No.” Elton flapped bony fingers. “You don’t understand. She had it painted last year. Then there was the new septic installed nine months ago, and she sodded the entire lawn afterward. There wasn’t a weed in sight when I was out here in the middle of August.” A month and a half ago, two weeks after her grandmother passed on August first.

The handyman hammered at the base of the column, the afternoon sun shining down on his hair in an odd halo effect. In the van, Samson whined. He needed a potty break.

Elton Cook stuck his hand out, straight-armed, a key ring jangling in his fingers even as he eased closer to his Lexus. “I have to go.”

Maggie made a side shuffle to close the distance between them. “You could come in.”

“There isn’t any need.” Mr. Cook took a giant spread-eagled step in the opposite direction.

“Shouldn’t you at least introduce me to the tenants?”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine on your own.” He jingled the keys when she didn’t take them.

“I don’t even remember their names.”

“Hopefully they do.”

Maggie grabbed her grandmother’s keys before he dropped them. Mr. Cook skipped sideways the rest of the way to his car as if he were afraid to turn his back on the house. It might be time to let his son take over the law firm.

“Don’t forget,” he called. “You can’t put them out unless they don’t pay rent or they get arrested and accused of murder.”

“Can’t forget that,” she muttered to the cloud dust he left behind as he peeled out. She’d inherited her grandmother’s house as well as the boarders living there. They could miss six monthly rental payments before she could kick anyone out. Unless they tried to kill her first. She’d have to read the will again; had it said get arrested and accused of murder or was that an either/or?

She tipped her head and gazed across the street. The house and its tenants might actually be worth it if she got the handyman, too.

She was forty, divorced, and it was high time she had some fun, right? Opening the van’s door, she snapped her fingers. Samson hit the ground running. He squatted on the edge of her new yard and christened the dirt for what seemed like a full minute as Maggie crossed the road. Despite being male, Samson was a squatter, not a leg-lifter. Ray said that made him a wuss. Maggie thought it demonstrated he was an individualist.

“Guess your dog didn’t see the sign on the lawn?” The handyman’s voice was deep, the kind of voice you felt vibrating on the inside.

Maggie stared at the crab grass, the weeds, the gopher holes, and the dirt. “We didn’t notice a lawn,” she answered, perfectly serious, not a funny-bone in her body.

He pointed to the marker, a picture of a dog squatting, the universal red not circle over its behind.

“Ah, that’s it. He doesn’t read sign language.”

His lips moved, but he didn’t crack a smile, and Maggie resisted pointing out that it was her nonexistent lawn. After all, he’d fixed the column so the porch no longer sagged. For that, he deserved a thank you. She shaded her eyes from the sun pouring over the roof, opened her mouth to offer it…

And looked up into the face of the man she should have married instead of Ray.

* * * * *

It took Maggie forever to find her voice over the crack in it. “What are you doing here?”

He crossed his arms, staring down at her with something that resembled a smile, but with the sun in her eyes, it could also have been a grimace. “A whole lot of nothing, Maggie.”

God. He recognized her.

Cooper Trubek had been her high school sweetheart. Had been, was, is. It depended on your definition of the word is. He still existed, she still existed, and she’d loved him with all her heart. So Cooper Trubek is her high school sweetheart might be the right way to say it. Despite the intervening twenty-two years, the girl she’d once been had never fallen out of love with the boy. That girl still remembered every precious moment with Cooper from sophomore to senior year.

She could have said all that but, thankfully, what came out was “Samson did number one.”

Cooper glanced at Samson, who sat on his haunches, giving him the mother of all stares.

Up close, Cooper’s dark brown hair was shot through with silver strands, and fine lines etched his eyes. The years had made him better, seasoned, overwhelmingly male, instead of a mere boy of eighteen. Tall, over six feet, he’d perfected a stone-faced demeanor she found daunting. In high school, he’d laughed a lot. Back then, she hadn’t hurt him yet.

His gaze tracked her face, her hair, her eyes, her lips, then down to the tight, low-waisted jeans and snug T-shirt. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl either, and his gaze made her self-conscious, as if he thought she was trying to deny her age. It was just that she’d done all her shopping with Evie who’d always said that Maggie shouldn’t dress like an old lady.

“I live here,” he finally said, without inflection.

Deciding the man wasn’t a threat, Samson rose to his four paws, trotted to Cooper’s side, and sniffed his work boots, then his pant legs. He was heading north when Cooper stuck his hand in the way.

It took that long for Maggie to realize Cooper had answered her original question. “You’re one of Nana’s boarders?”

He nodded. This time, the smile made it to his eyes. “I’m one of your boarders.” Samson circled, and Cooper shoved him away before he sniffed the backside. “I’ve got the attic.”

When Maggie lived in the house, the attic was dusty and dark, one long room with a sloped ceiling, boiling in summer and freezing in winter. How could a person live in the attic? Elton Cook told her Nana had remodeled to make more space for boarders, turning the first-floor rumpus room into a bedroom and adding a shower to the half-bath by the stairs. There were now three full bathrooms. But Mr. Cook hadn’t mentioned the attic.

Maggie snapped her fingers, and Samson slumped in the dirt, laying his snout on his paws. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t expect you to”—his voice roughened, the first sign of emotion slipping—“since Cecelia never called you in the entire five years I’ve been here.”

And not for twelve years before that. Did Cooper think Maggie had deserted Nana the way she’d deserted him?

“I should have called her,” she admitted, the guilt like a lump of raw cookie dough in her stomach, the kind of thing you thought you could handle until it expanded. How much had her grandmother told Cooper about Ray and Evie? Short for Evangeline. Long ago she’d chosen the name for the little girl she and Cooper would one day have. She’d dreamed so many things that had never come to pass.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d become maudlin, something she’d tried hard not to do since the divorce. “What happened to the lawn?” And the swing, the porch, the paint? “Mr. Cook said the grass was just replaced.”

Cooper stared at the house, the brown of his eyes deepening. “It got sad.”

“The house got sad?”

“When Cecelia died.” He swept an arm across the expanse of dirt, and Maggie realized the elusive sentiment in his gaze was grief. He’d had a soft spot for Nana, bringing her a treat when he arrived, meringues or flowers or a cookbook. And he’d left her with a goodnight kiss on the cheek. “First week,” he said, “the grass died, second week the weeds and gophers took over.”

Her grandmother’s house had always been…special. The scents of baking cookies and fried chicken lingered long after the kitchen should have aired out. If Maggie wanted a breeze on a summer’s night, she’d find a window open she was sure she’d closed. When she climbed out her second-floor window to meet the most beautiful boy in the world, the trellis suddenly reached right up to her sill. As if the house shared her feelings for Cooper. When she’d let him move to L.A. on his own following high school, the trellis vines grew thorns.

Over the years she’d been absent, Maggie decided she’d imagined all the strange things about the house.

“Maybe the septic’s failing again.” It could have contaminated the dirt and killed the grass.

Cooper went on. “Then the swing fell down, the porch sagged, the paint flaked, and the shingles fell off.” He kicked up one side of his mouth. “I don’t think that’s the septic.”

Her grandmother had loved the swing on a warm night, swaying, sipping homemade lemonade as they discussed the day. The torment when Timmy Tipton sent Maggie a love note only to have their fourth grade teacher intercept it and read it aloud. The tragic loss of Jimmy Howell when he was killed in the sixth grade as he crossed the big highway east of town. Susan Foster getting pregnant at fifteen. What Maggie should wear to the junior prom with Cooper.

All the memories, the years, the times she thought of calling Nana but never did. All the regrets and guilt. “I thought you were some big screenwriter in Hollywood,” she said, a catch in her voice.

His head bent to Samson, Cooper merely raised his eyes to meet his gaze. “You know I never sold a screenplay.”

She hadn’t known. For years, she’d searched movie credits for his name. When Cooper left to make his Hollywood dreams come true, she was supposed to go with him. Fear got the better of her, and she’d allowed him to board that train alone, deserting him with nothing but a note she’d sent via a friend. At eighteen, it had seemed the best way to let him down. Today, she saw it for the coward’s way out that it was.

After that there was college, Ray, then Evie. And now this, back at the house she’d started in as if she were George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life. What would her life have been like if she hadn’t thrown away Cooper’s love?

“I’m sorry you didn’t make a movie.” What else could she say? She’d chosen security over a frighteningly uncertain future with Cooper. Two years later, when she’d gotten pregnant, Ray had represented her safety net. She’d chosen what she thought was security, even against her grandmother’s wishes and advice.

She’d lost it all when Ray no longer had a use for her. Even Evie didn’t need her after she went off to college.

She sounded disgustingly poor-poor-pitiful-me, but she’d made her own choices. “Thanks for fixing the porch.”

“Cecelia used to give me money off the rent for doing her odd jobs.” He turned, bounded up the porch steps, then threw over his shoulder, “I don’t expect the same thing from you.”

The message, she assumed, was that he didn’t want anything from her. He disappeared into the bowels of her grandmother’s house, the screen door banging shut behind him. One of the hinges dropped off, the screws pinging on the porch.

She’d deserted him, hurt him, hadn’t talked to him, or written him. She’d owed him more than a note. Yet she’d walked away and never looked back. Just as Ray had done to her over a year ago, the day after they’d settled Evie in her first-year college dorm room in San Luis Obispo. So Maggie knew how Cooper felt.

She shoved the house keys in her jeans pocket, snapped her fingers, and whistled. People didn’t like being snapped at, but to dogs, it was a sound, a command, and if they obeyed, they knew they’d get a treat. Samson followed her back across the lane to the minivan, and she carried the first of her boxes into her grandmother’s house. Her house now.

They say you can’t go home again; Maggie had no choice but to try.

Hope you enjoyed Chapter one of Can’t Forget You! Here’s where you can find the ebook! Kindle Kindle UK Nook Nook UK iBookstore iBookstore AU iBookstore UK Kobo Smashwords All Romance CoffeeTime

Categories: .99 Sale, 69 Shade Of Smut, Books, Boxed Set, New Release | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

New Release – PROTECTIVE CUSTODY!

I have a re-release that might be new to some of you, my bestselling sexy erotic romantic suspense PROTECTIVE CUSTODY! If you’re familiar with my other books, it’s probably no surprise that I love to write about strong, sexy, alpha males, and Gray Beckham, the hero in the book, is about as strong, sexy and alpha as they come, which makes him the perfect romance book hunk to curl up with on those cold, winter nights!

Hope you’ll pick it up!

Author’s Note: If you love a guy who comes with his own handcuffs and knows how to use them, then you’re going to fall hard and fast for Police Inspector Gray Beckham.

Paisley McCoy is a sexy reporter who writes about the San Francisco club scene for a local magazine. Having a dad on the force has led to one hard and fast rule – she doesn’t date cops. She likes her men sensitive and intellectual, two qualities in short supply in any cop she’s ever met. But now she’s stuck with this standard-issue cop – aggressive, opinionated, and sure he’s always right. In short, the complete opposite of the kind of man she usually goes for.

Gray Beckham is a no-nonsense cop who’s peeved about being taken off a major burglary investigation to babysit the captain’s bratty daughter, even if she is gorgeous. To make it even more annoying, she acts like the whole thing is a joke and insists she doesn’t need his protection. And while she might be sexy as hell, there’s no way he’s going anywhere near the captain’s daughter.

Despite their differences Paisley and Gray can’t deny the chemistry between them. But as that connection turns into romance, they find out the stalker is a far greater threat than they had originally thought. And that if he can’t have her, no one will.

 

Excerpt:

They didn’t talk much on the way to her apartment, and when they got there, Gray caught her arm before she could go inside.

“Let me take a look around first,” he said.

She lifted a brow. “You’re joking, right?”

He pinned her with steely eyes. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

She shook her head. “Fine. Whatever.”

Paisley knew she should be grateful Inspector Beckham took his job seriously, but this was a little ridiculous. The only thing she was in danger of was getting smothered by her overprotective father. When Beckham didn’t come back out, she walked inside and headed into the kitchen to open her mail. That earned her a dark scowl from the inspector when he came out of the bedroom several minutes later. Paisley pretended not to notice.

“I’ve been on a stakeout for a couple of days,” he said after declaring the apartment clear. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

She glanced up from the Victoria’s Secret catalog she’d been flipping through. “No, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” He picked up his overnight bag from the floor where he’d left it. “I won’t be long. Keep the door locked and don’t open it to anyone.”

Yeah, yeah. She went back to flipping through the catalog, only to pause when she heard the shower turn on a few minutes later. She’d been looking for a way to give Beckham the slip ever since they’d walked out of the police station and she wasn’t going to get a better opportunity than right now.

Tossing the catalog on the counter, Paisley hurried out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. Knowing she wouldn’t have enough time to do more than pack a few things before Gray came out, she decided to forget about the basics and instead just grab a dress and a pair of high heels to wear that night. Everything else she could borrow from whichever friend she stayed with. At least until it was safe to come back to her place. By safe she meant when there wasn’t some cop hanging around it. Shoving the dress into an evening purse, Paisley picked up her shoes in her free hand and darted from the room. She’d barely made it past the bathroom when the door opened.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Beckham demanded from behind her.

Paisley stopped in her tracks at the commanding tone in his voice. Crap. She’d hoped to slip out before he finished taking his shower. It just wasn’t fair that guys could clean up so fast. Squaring her shoulders, she whirled around to face him. And blinked. Though he had put on jeans, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt, and all she could do was stare at him in feminine appreciation. She’d known he was built, but she hadn’t realized just how well. Broad shoulders, chiseled pecs, and rock-hard abs. Daaaaammmn! He had a body that just wouldn’t quit.

Gray crossed his arms over his chest. “Well?” he prompted when she said nothing.

Paisley tore her gaze from his perfectly sculpted arms to look up at him. She hadn’t realized he was so tall. Even in heels, she was still almost a head shorter than he was.

She lifted her chin. “Out.”

His golden brown eyes narrowed. “Not without me, you’re not.”

She let out a sigh. “Look. Like I told you before, this isn’t going to work. I’m going to stay with some friends until this whole thing blows over. You can just tell my dad that I gave you the slip. He won’t hold it against you.”

“I don’t think so.”

She clenched her jaw. “I wasn’t asking for your permission, Inspector. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”

Paisley didn’t wait for an answer as she whirled around and started for the door. She didn’t even make it halfway there before Gray caught her arm and turned her back around.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

She glared up at him. “Oh, really? And just how are you going to stop me? Handcuff me to the bed?”

Her words hung in the air between them for a long moment before his mouth finally quirked. “Though I’ll admit that’s tempting. I have something more effective in mind.”

Before she could ask what he meant by that, Gray led her over to the couch. What was he going to do, sit her down and lecture her?

To her surprise, Gray didn’t sit her down at all, but instead took a seat himself. Totally perplexed, she started to ask what he was doing when a tug on her arm sent her sprawling over his knee. She had to drop the purse and shoes just so she could put her hands on the floor to keep herself balanced. For a moment, Paisley was so stunned she just lay there. She recovered quickly enough, though, and when she did, she immediately tried to push herself upright. But a strong hand on her back held her firmly in place. Furious at being manhandled, she glared at him over her shoulder.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

He returned her glower with one of his own. “Teaching you a lesson.”

Paisley opened her mouth to retort, only to let out a startled little gasp when she felt him smack her upturned bottom. He did not just spank her!

 

Buy it at Amazon!
http://www.amazon.com/Protective-Custody-Paige-Tyler-ebook/dp/B00HNYHZEK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1388805586&sr=1-1&keywords=Paige+Tyler+Protective+Custody

 

Buy it at B&N!
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/protective-custody-paige-tyler/1017476901?ean=2940149064663

 

Buy it at ARe!
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-protectivecustody-1388729-149.html

 

*hugs*
Paige

Hunky Heroes, Kickbutt Heroines, Unforgettable Romance!
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My First NY Cover – HER PERFECT MATE!

I got my first NY cover for HER PERFECT MATE, Book One in the X-OPS SERIES, a military/paranormal/romantic action suspense coming May 6, 2014 from Sourcebooks! Heroes and Heartbreakers had the exclusive reveal, but in case you didn’t get over there, thought I’d share it here, too!

OMG, it’s gorgeous! The art department at Sourcebooks rocks!

 

 

When Special Forces Captain Landon Donovan is picked for an assignment with the Department of Covert Operations, he’s stunned to find his new partner is a beautiful woman who looks like she couldn’t hurt a fly, much less take down a terrorist.

Ivy Halliwell isn’t your average covert op. Her feline DNA means she can literally bring out the claws when things get dicey. She isn’t thrilled to be paired with yet another military grunt, but Landon is different. He doesn’t think she’s a freak and he’s smokin’ hot.

Soon they find themselves facing a threat even greater than anyone imagines…and an animal magnetism impossible to ignore.

 

HER PERFECT MATE will be available on May 6, 2014!

 

*hugs*
Paige

Hunky Heroes, Kickbutt Heroines, Unforgettable Romance!

http://wwwpaigetylertheauthor.com
http://paigetylertheauthor.blogspot.com

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Hey Sweet Baby

Hey good lookin’, whatcha got cookin’…Love that little ditty and it’s so appropriate. I had aspirations of being a pastry chef. Went to school and everything, but I learned a few things while hanging out with real chefs and culinary geniuses. I hate cooking.

Do I hear gasps and sputters? It’s okay. In a classical kitchen there is a difference between cooking and baking. Ever wondered why some of those chefs on shows like Chopped look totally confused when it comes to baking a cake? Well they spent all their time time preparing ceviche, cassoulet, remoulade, or a spicy tuna roll.

Now if you want a ganache, simple syrup, a meringue or a boston cream pie. I’m your gal. Got a hankering for homemade sticky buns, I knead the dough and wait the three or fours hours to make them. Cream Cheese Pound Cake? I’ve got a melt in your mouth recipe that’ll make you wish you had an asbestos covered tongue.

I’m most at home whipping up a dessert or baking bread. My parents, bless them, encouraged me from a young age, My earliest meal I prepared by myself was vichyssoise, coq au vin, with brioche and chocolat mousse. While I don’t care for cold potato soup, it had a nice flavor and it was fun trying new things. My parents enjoyed the meal too.

These are a few of the things I’ll make over the upcoming holidays. The sticky buns for sure and maybe a cake and a pie or two. I’m still trying to find a decent recipe for Mississippi Mud Pie, but there will be plenty of Sweet Potato Pie and Cheesecake to go around. And I may just decorate a cake or two.

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Website: http://wlynnchantale.com

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Blurb:

Secrets abound in Benson’s Bakery. A crazed Santa wants something valuable hidden inside the building, and only two things stand in his way…Jake and Sara.

When Sara Henderson receives threatening letters just days before Christmas, she asks sexy bread baker Jake Benson for help. Jake is more than happy to provide the muscle to keep the beautiful cake decorator from harm, but he has an ulterior motive–to steal a kiss under the mistletoe. Sara wants that kiss as much as he does, but first they have a mystery to solve.

Will they find out who is stalking Sara, or will Santa succeed in stealing Christmas?

Excerpt:

Sara loved the ease of being with Jake. She held his arm, strolling down the snow-covered sidewalks after dinner. A few flakes fluttered to the ground and the crisp wind danced them across the slippery maroon bricks in the street. Dense green garlands wound around black wrought iron lamp posts. Bright emerald wreaths with big red velvet bows hung on buildings or in windows. Blinking multi-colored lights vied with streetlights and traffic. The city was dressed for Christmas.

When Sara sighed, Jake glanced at her. “You okay?”

“When is the last time you walked downtown Flint without being afraid?”

“Good question. Downtown Development Authority has increased its patrols.”

“They have. Downtown is probably the only place in the city that’s safe.”

He chuckled. “Right, right.”

Sara stumbled, instinctively reaching for Jake. He caught her arm and dragged her against his strong lean frame. She peered into his eyes, their faces inches apart. Her heart hammered at his nearness. “You have this incredible knack for coming to my rescue.”

“I never could resist a damsel in distress.”

“My hero.”

“You can’t look at me that way when you say things like that.”

She moved her hands to the front of his coat. “Why not?”

He brought his lips to hers, giving her the only answer she needed.

Wild Rose Press

Amazon

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How About a Cookie?

Getting to know my characters has been an interesting journey. They’ve come a long way since the original story. You’ve met Trisha, so now here’s a glimpse into Zach from Lust and Bound.

I paused on the sidewalk. A sleek black Audi limo had just dropped me off and after Jonas made sure I made it onto the sidewalk safely, per instructions, he drove away. Yeah.  The lights were bright, but at the moment it was of little help. My eyes hadn’t adjusted from being in the back of the darkened limo. So I pulled my cane from my black and white Miche bag. With a flick of my wrist, the white and red pole snapped and clicked into place.

I navigated through a Chicago hotel with hundreds of people, with rolling bags and easel lined hallways, surely I could make it ten feet to the front door without tripping over anything. I hoped there weren’t any stairs.

Of all the times of day for us to meet, Zach had to pick the night, but I guess if I wanna have a drink with a hunky hottie in a bar, who owned his own limo company, well it better be worth it.

The subtle scent of wood and masculinity beckoned, the moment before a hand touched my shoulder.

“You were supposed to wait on the sidewalk for me, not go off and do your own thing.”

“I have my cane.”

“Do all writers find it difficult to listen to the characters they create or is it just you?”

I frown.

He chuckled. “Figured as much. Now if you don’t mind we’ll go inside the correct door.” Deftly he pries the cane from my hand, folded it, places it back in its case, then settles my hand on his arm.

Solid muscle meets my fingers. I couldn’t resist. I had to squeeze his bicep.

“Having fun?”

“Anytime I get to rub a man’s muscles, I’m good.”

He grins. “Trish said you were a bit of a flirt.”

“If you’d met me while the sun was shining, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“And again, that’s doing your own thing.”

I allowed him to lead me into the bar. I got the impression of tables and chairs, but it was dim. One thing drew my attention and that was the stage. It was bright and a woman with long curly auburn hair, who seemed suspiciously familiar, twirled around a silver pole.

“Didn’t you have some questions for me?” Zach practically purred in a voice that should be reserved for candlelit bedrooms and steamy sex fantasies.

Somehow I managed to tear my gaze from the stage and focused on him. “Uh, yeah.”

“So let’s get started.”

I shifted my purse to the table, withdrew the small tape recorder and a camera.

“No pictures.” His tone was firm, almost harsh.

“Right. Almost forgot about that.” I tuck the camera away and squint at the stage. “So that is Trisha.”

“Yes, which is why you’re here at night.”

Glasses thudded on the table.

“Yours is just to the right of your left hand.”

I pick up the old-fashioned glass and stare at the milky white contents. “What is this?”

“An oatmeal cookie.”

“Uh huh? And what are you drinking?”

“Mackinac Island Fudge beer. It’s bottled by a local brewery.”

Zach glances at his watch. “She’s got another five minutes before she done so, what other questions do you have?”

“I know I’m going to get this question from some readers, but would you consider yourself a dom?”

“No. I just like to keep things interesting in the bedroom. What about you?”

Chokes on the oatmeal cookie. I grab napkins. “I’m not the one being interview,” I say between coughing spams.

He laughs. “You should try it some time.”

“Uh yeah.”

“Looks like she’s done. Nice talking to you.” He leaned close. “And next time try not to do your own thing.”

I could only sigh as he walked toward Trisha.

Please enjoy the excerpt and the oatmeal cookie.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookie recipe

Combine ingredients in equal parts in a shot glass.


Trisha, a recent divorcee, wants to explore the wilder side of sex and discover a more sensuous part of herself. When long-time client Zach Walters suggests a weekend together, she agrees. He provides her with an unforgettable night of hot, sweaty sex, while unbeknownst to either of them the tryst is being recorded.

No woman has ever excited Zach Walters like Trisha. He’s willing to indulge his fantasies as well as hers, but he can’t afford to get too close. He has a weakness for damsels in distress and a secret to protect. Only one thing threatens their happiness—a vengeful ex-husband.

Zach fumbled the plastic card in the metal slot. When the mechanism whirred and clicked, he twisted the knob, but paused. “I have one rule.” His gaze never left her face.

Trisha met his hungry stare, her lips parting. “What’s that?”

“I don’t share.”

A thrill rippled through her body at the possessive note in his deep, rasping voice.

“Me either.”

“You can still walk away.”

Walk away? Was he nuts? She’d waited months for this moment, for freedom. Still, as his eyes raked over her body, waiting for her decision, a tiny seed of doubt wiggled in the back of her mind. She squared her shoulders. Nope. She wasn’t going home until she knew what made her eyes roll to the back of her head and she wanted him to show her.

“I’m not…”

He shouldered open the door and dragged her to him. The cool kiss of the textured wall greeted her bare shoulders as his mouth, hot and demanding, found hers. She sighed against his lips, jerking his shirt free from his waistband. He cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple. Fire danced through her veins, pooled low. Her heart skipped a beat when he yanked the chiffon from her shoulders, ripping the sheer fabric.

Lifting his head, he flashed a quick smile, his mist-gray eyes shining with heat and mischief. “I hope you weren’t too attached to this dress.”

She didn’t care how he got her clothes off, just as long as he got them off. Her pulse raced and her breath quickened when the thin silk of her slip followed the fate of her dress. Trisha slid her hands beneath his shirt, his skin warm and smooth beneath her palms.

“Now what am I supposed to wear home?”

Zach grabbed her wrists, shackling them in one large hand and raising her arms above her head. She gasped as her breasts thrust upwards, straining for attention. “We’ll worry about that later.” He dipped his head, capturing one taut peak in his mouth.

She arched against him as desire further hardened her nipples and set her blood to simmering. His fingers brushed the curve of her hip, before drifting lower, tracing the sensitive skin below her garter belt.

“You’re a bit naughty, Trish,” he whispered against her mouth.

Her answering chuckle melted into a moan when his fingers stroked her damp pussy. His eyes widened when his hand met no barrier.

“Very naughty indeed,” he murmured. He leaned away, cool air skittering across her heated flesh. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“Too long,” she agreed.

Pivoting, he grabbed her hand and led her into the bedroom. The king-size bed dominated the room and sat in front of the mirrored doors to the closet. Artificial candlelight flickered around the room, casting muted shadows against the wallpaper while the soft scent of jasmine wafted through the air.

Warm fuzzies squeezed her heart. Despite being a day early he had surprised her. She stepped forward, her nylon-clad feet skimming against something cool and satiny. Rose petals trailed from the door to the bed. She perched on the edge of the bed, too overwhelmed to speak.

When she focused on him, he watched her with a hooded expression.

“It seems like you’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I get one chance to make a lasting impression.”

“Thank you.”

His eyes widened when she shoved him back on the bed and straddled his legs. The bulge grew and hardened beneath her thigh. She worked at loosening his tie. Once unknotted, she tossed it aside and focused on the buttons. With each button released from its mooring she revealed more of his amazing body. She pushed the shirt aside to trace the large, colorful dragon/koi tattoo that began on his left pec and wrapped around his bicep to disappear onto his back. Anticipation coiled in her belly. Oh how she wanted to find out how far his tattoo went.

“You’ve tortured me enough tonight and I think it’s time you paid up,” she murmured against his lips. She skimmed light, teasing kisses from his mouth to his jaw.

A startled gasp escaped her lips when he shifted and blanketed her body with his. He captured her wrists in one large hand and held them above her head.

“One day, very soon, I’m going have you tied and helpless beneath me.”

She sucked in a breath, holding his gaze, unwilling to admit how much she wanted the same thing.

He traced the swell of her breasts just above the neckline of her corset. “But there is one image of you I can’t seem to get out of my head.” He touched his lips to hers in a long, drugging kiss that left her craving more. “Are you game?”

“I’m yours for the weekend.”

He chuckled, a smoldering look scorching her body. She responded to that look. “Oh, I like how that sounds.”

Heat crept into her cheeks as she realized what she’d said. “I—uh, yeah.”

He nipped at her neck, even as he settled deeper into the vee of her thighs. The heavy bulge of his erection rubbed against her core. Instinctively she raised her hips in greeting.

“I want to watch you, beautiful,” he murmured against her lips.

She stiffened. “Watch me what?”

He rolled off her and helped her to sitting. “I want to watch you climax, before I send you over the edge again.”

 Now Available from
Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Romantic

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Website: http://wlynnchantale.com

Blog: http://wlynnchantale-decadentdecisions.blogspot.com/

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