Excerpts Page II
Author F.L. Bicknell (aka Molly Diamond)
Struggling to deal with the disappearance of her daughter and in a creative slump, sculptress Sable Hendricks-Tade travels to Florida for rest and relaxation only to find herself thrust between divided paranormal worlds. One side wants her dead and the other will do anything to keep her in its “wicked” embrace. Determined to get answers, she searches for her missing daughter and spirals into the realm of immortals and goddesses where she quickly realizes her agent is her only anchor to reality. But can she trust him to keep her safe?
Thomas Valimar, a highly trained marshal working with a network of humans to maintain the line between the paranormal and human worlds, is assigned to protect Sable from the magic she doesn’t realize she possesses. Operating undercover as her agent, his duty soon turns to passion as he falls for the beautiful artist.
Drawing Sable into their world of sex, magic, and intrigue, the dark forces will do anything keep Sable in their clutches so they may feed from her emotions and mysterious ability. Only through sheer determination and Thomas’ love can Sable walk through other realms and not only battle the paranormal creatures that wish to destroy her live but save her daughter as well.
The limo waited outside of the Seascape Hotel five blocks away from Sable’s accommodations. She used her cell and called Hal’s room. Minutes later, he emerged from the grand double doors. The chauffeur opened the limo door for him, and her ex got in beside her.
“Hey, babe,” he said. His gaze roved over her white culottes, peach tank top with tiny fern sprigs and her long, heavy braid coiled on the seat next to her. “You look fresh and enticing.”
She ignored his suggestive comment. “The bar we’re going to is only a few blocks from here,” she said. “Let’s concentrate on what we can find out about our daughter—and nothing else.”
Her pointed look landed wide of her target. His crystal-blue eyes filled with an ill-concealed challenge. “Why can’t we enjoy one another’s company too?” he countered. “After all, we were married for nineteen years.”
“Trust me, after that long, the thrill is gone.”
His laughter invaded the back of the limo. “One thing never changes,” he said, “and that’s your sarcasm.”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment. Besides, you’re remarried, or have you forgotten again?”
They rode across town in silence. Sable’s thoughts kept returning to Thomas and the bizarre anger and hurt she’d felt toward him over Yasmine. Did Thomas take the black beauty back to his suite after the coffee shop? He’d have to be dead not to be attracted to the Sex Goddess. Sable wrinkled her nose. Thank God she’d only had to deal with the woman during the gala. She didn’t know if she could have stomached another episode of Boobs and Ass in Action.
Besides, if Yasmine would make another appearance, Sable just might have to snatch her bald. Where do I get off being possessive of Thomas? She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’s my agent, not my lover, for God’s sake.
“Hey.” Hal nudged her arm. “Where are you?”
Heat rose up her neck and into her cheeks. “Just hoping that we find something tangible that may lead us to Cheyenne.”
“Judging by the red of your face, you’re lying,” he said. “Finally started fucking your agent, eh?”
She shifted in the seat and looked directly at her ex. No matter how much Hal’s eyes reminded her of the waters that surrounded the Bahamas, he was still a jackass. If she looked deeply enough, she could see the true shark in him.
So why did it take me nearly a quarter of my life to finally see the real man I married?
“Don’t start your shit with me, Hal,” she said so quietly she wasn’t sure he heard her.
“Mee-row,” he said snidely.
“If only I’d seen you for what you really are years ago,” she said. “It would have saved me so much grief.”
Panting permeated the passenger area.
“Oh, come on, Sable.” Leaning toward her, Hal placed his hand on her thigh. “Haven’t you missed me just a little bit?”
An eerie squeak followed. The panting grew louder.
Sable’s attention shifted to the macabre sounds. No, no…they can’t be back, can they? Even in the limo? Why? Terrified of what she might see, she looked from window to window and from floor to ceiling.
Hal slid his hand higher up her thigh. “We had some good years, didn’t we? Maybe we could have a few more.”
Growls erupted from under her seat. Her heart galloped so hard that dizziness assailed her.
“That’s the past,” she replied softly, her breath short, her attention focused on the frightening sounds filling the car. Surely Hal can hear them too?
She turned to look at her ex-husband only to find his arms pulling her into his embrace. His mouth descended upon hers, his clean-shaven face smooth. One of his hands gripped her hip, and the other hand glided around her body. He tightened his arms about her, attempting to draw her onto his lap.
For a moment, the familiarity of his touch and kiss almost defeated Sable’s defenses and her fears of the unknown. It would be so easy to fall back into old habits and into the arms of a man whom she’d known for so many years, the father of her child. In some ways, there was safety in the familiar, the old, but in other ways, there were new dangers and irrevocable heartache.
No, this can’t happen, won’t happen.
Sable pushed him away and settled back into her seat. “Stop it, Hal.”
“Why? You want me, I want you—”
“No, I don’t want you, and you only want to prove some senseless, egotistical point, or worse, use me for some stupid reason.”
He offered his most rakish grin and taunted her. “Haven’t you ever done it in a limousine?”
“As a matter of fact, I have, but I don’t want to do it with you.” She fought the urge to slap him so hard he’d find himself in Cuba. Anger at herself boiled in her gut too. How could she have allowed herself to lapse even a few moments? She knew what Hal was like, knew his tricks and what a deceiver he was.
But, she suddenly realized, the only thing she’d felt when Hal had kissed her was a false sense of comfort. There was no desire, no racing heart, no need to be joined as one person and escape into a private heaven.
Only Thomas makes me feel that way.
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Elizabeth “Lizzy” Shaw has had a rough life. Chased out of town years ago by one of the community’s leaders, Lizzy has finally returned. However, living with her virtuous grandmother exercises Lizzy’s patience, especially when Lizzy’s mother, who was an aspiring actress, tarnished her reputation by changing boyfriends as frequently as her nail polish.
Regardless, Daniel Rivers, the love she left behind, wants Lizzy back. He demands to know why she left town and why she never replied to any of his letters. Lizzy can’t let Daniel know her secret, but she can’t resist his crooked smile and warm, brown eyes either. Sparks fly between the couple, but Lizzy is determined not to make the same mistake with Daniel. However, when Lizzy is kidnapped by one of her mother’s old boyfriends, it puts life in a different perspective for Lizzy and she realizes she must tell Daniel about his son. Can Lizzy resist the lure of Daniel’s touch, the way her body responds to him every time he glances her way? Or will the truth about Daniel’s son tear them apart a second time?
Elizabeth stared up at him dressed in the old plaid robe, his gaze averted to a spot on the pink tile, despite the bubbles covering her body. For a moment, her exhaustion evaporated with the bath steam. He looks positively edible in that ratty garment. Vivid memories of their one night of lovemaking returned. Sensations, scents, and erotic sounds filled her mind. Dark blond chest hair escaped the V-neck of Daniel’s robe. His damp hair curled around his ears.
“The bath feels wonderful,” she said, trying not to stare, but unable to help herself.
He concentrated on the wall tile. “Good. You don’t need to come down with a cold. Tomorrow is the big youth dinner.”
“Daniel, you can look at me,” Elizabeth said, surprising herself. “I’m completely covered.”
Their gazes met, and something clenched deep inside her chest. His eyes clearly revealed the war within himself, his desire roiling, threatening to bubble over. Elizabeth’s breath caught; an overwhelming need swept through her entire body like a marauder. She stared at Daniel, her breath escalating, disturbing the bath water so that it caressed her breasts, leaving swirls of white scented foam across her collarbones.
“Do you—” His voice caught. “Do you need anything else? Maybe a book to read while you soak?”
If Elizabeth didn’t know better, she could have sworn the water temperature had risen twenty degrees.
“I’m fine.” She wanted him to stay, to drop that robe and step into the tub, taking his place behind her. What would it be like to snuggle into his body as his arms wrapped around her? To feel his hard, naked form pressed tightly against her backside? “Thanks for the tea.”
She reached for the cup, underestimating its proximity. Her fingers connected with it before she hooked the handle. The mug scooted on the smooth enamel. She gasped, snatched at it and watched helplessly as it tipped over the edge. She lunged up out of the water, but the cup hit the floor, spilling across the flowery tile. At the same instant, Daniel dove for the cup. He missed, and they cracked skulls.
“Ouch!” Elizabeth gasped, her hands flying to her forehead.
“I’m so sorry!” Daniel said. Laughing, he rubbed his brow bone. He knelt in the tea, retrieved the mug, and threw one of the towels from the toilet lid on the floor to sop up the sugary mess. “Here” —he pulled her wet hands away from her face— “let me see.” She allowed him to move her hands. “Just a small red spot.” He chuckled softly and kissed her forehead.
She gazed up at him, the realization crashing into her brain that she was sitting up in the tub with her breasts revealed, mere inches away from his chest. His brown eyes turned darker, their smoky depths burning with sexuality. Elizabeth watched in fascination as one of his callused hands reached toward her face. He smoothed back damp locks of her hair and then slid his hand along her temple to cup her jaw, his thumb rubbing tantalizingly along her cheekbone.
Riveted by his gaze, Elizabeth tried to say something, anything, to break the spell, but her vocal cords suffered the same paralysis as the rest of her body.
“Elizabeth, I…” He continued looking at her, his gaze drifting to her mouth. Before Elizabeth could protest, his lips claimed hers.
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When Dinah and Jeff move in to be the Wheillercarts’ companions, their lives change for the better and the worse. Dinah loves Jeff, but after five years together, he still refuses to marry her, and Dinah’s dreams of starting a family begin to crumble. Regardless of their hot lovemaking sessions, she fears Jeff is cheating on her. Dinah will do anything to keep Jeff, even if it means sharing him with another woman.
However, strange occurrences and a seemingly psychic landlady keep Dinah guessing about her life and relationship with Jeff. And what about the bizarre statue in their landlady’s atrium? Little does Dinah know it holds the key to her most intimate wish.
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Author Jaime Samms
Third Time’s the Charm, coming out a Loveyoudivine Alterotica sometime in December
Blurb: Just when Ian and David think nothing else can touch them, David’s father, Dale, sticks his hand back into studio business. He’s not saying why he needs to interfere, and David is livid when Dale assigns street brat Robbie with his pixie good looks and insatiable libido to be Ian’s new assistant.
Ian does his best not to rock the boat, but David has a temper, and a jealous side, that take Ian by surprise.
It takes disaster to show them all that life is too short to screw around; a lesson that might come far too late for Ian and David.
Excerpt: A slow trickle of water, beaded and glistening, rolled down between his shoulder blades as I watched. I shifted to press my lips to the small of his back, ready to lick it away as it descended to meet me. I knew what he’d say even before he said it.
“Give a bloke a break, Davey.”
I grinned at the fact I no longer cringed at the nickname. Not when he said it, anyway.
“You don’t want to make love to me again, Ian?” I murmured, my lips never quite leaving his skin, because the way he shivered under the goose bumps was delicious. I pried at the top edge of the towel wrapped around his waist until the crisp red outline of a heart appeared, and I kissed the new tattoo. The placement matched exactly that of my shamrock, and had a miniscule green “D.M.” at the center, which you had to be very close to see. While tragically romantic, never would he hear from my lips how much that small, completely geeky gesture set my heart thumping and my palms sweating.
He loved me that much.
His hips shifted, and he shivered as I licked at the spot. “Dave.”
There’s something his body does when he sighs. All the tension just drains down and out, and he turns pliable as putty. Nobody ever gave that to me before. Bloody difficult to not want it any time I could get it. Another light kiss just above the crack of his arse would encourage that much anticipated sigh.
“Work,” he muttered, as his body flowed right into my hands.
I glanced up to see him in the mirror, face partially covered in shaving cream and his eyes closed. His razor plopped into the sink and sent a small jet of foamy white water up and back down onto the floor.
“Fuck first,” I suggested, expecting him to turn me down.
I manoeuvred a hand up under the towel to find him already erect and began to stroke. I took it slow. His bout with Robbie’s ex-pimp still made him ache a bit, though the bruises had faded. His ribs bothered him a bit, and no matter how many times he told me not to, I couldn’t help getting flaming angry at Robbie Kelly for putting my Ian in jeopardy, no matter if he meant to or not.
His groan lured me back from thoughts of Robbie’s foolishness, and I tightened my grip, wanting to hear it again.
“Ah, David. Can’t.” Regret etched the frown lines around his mouth a little deeper, and he opened his eyes.
Disappointed? Aye. But not surprised. And certainly not dissuaded.
I stood and pulled him back against me so we could both watch in the mirror. The towel fell and my hands roved over his body. I watched his eyes slowly drift closed. My lips near his ear startled him, and he moaned, tilting his head slightly when I whispered in his ear. “Watch me stroke your cock, Ian.”
“Fuck. So not fair,” he murmured, letting his head drop back onto my shoulder. His chest heaved out into my palm roaming across his nipples.
“All’s fair, Ian.” I hitched my shoulder up, lifting his head. “Watch.”
“What about…oh! Fuck.”
His cheeks flushed. I couldn’t tell if it embarrassed him, or if lust flushed him like that, but not even half a face of shaving foam could disguise the need in his eyes.
His gaze fixed on my hand working his cock, his hips moved with my strokes, and his arse wiggled until my own cock slipped between his cheeks. His breath caught at the bump of my cock against his entrance.
“Ever been fucked, Ian?”
A long, low moan and all-over body shudder preceded his come splattering the vanity. He didn’t waste a moment between coming and shoving me back enough to turn and drop to his knees in front of me. He swiped most of the foam away before wrapping his lips around me.
I groaned myself. The feel of his hot mouth sliding down my cock was relatively new for me. I’d established a pattern a long time ago. My mouth, my arse, and they could like it or lump it. The intimacy of letting anyone suck me off was too much. They paid me to get them off. That’s how it worked. But Ian had my initials tattooed practically on his arse. He’d earned the right to break a few rules.
He hummed and took me deeper, almost into his throat.
No, Ian didn’t follow rules. Instead, he patted my thighs, encouraging my legs apart a bit, then my cheeks, and his fingers, slippery with shaving foam, found my hole.
Some soap just doesn’t belong anywhere near a man’s arse-hole. It’s a mistake you only make once. Soap was soap. I shied away from his slick fingers.
He popped his mouth off my cock long enough to grin up at me and wipe a bit more foam off his face with his fingers, which he wiggled up at me. “Trust me.”
I’d hardly nodded when his fingers slid in, to the accompaniment of the mo
st interesting tingle against my skin.
He slithered his fingers in deep and curled them forward, wrapped his lips around me and swallowed hard. Anything else I might have said got lost in the orgasm rocketing through me. I was still quivering with reaction as he rose, arms going around my waist and long, lean body melding against mine.
“Now,” he pecked the tip of my nose, “it’s fair.”
He laughed, a sound that made me feel on the inside the way he could make my body feel. Sadly, he also turned back to the mirror and picked up the shaving foam.
I stole the bit of white foam left on the side of his neck and rubbed it over his arse. “You didn’t answer my question.” Maybe it was an underhanded attempt to get my equilibrium back. The way he pushed my boundaries…
Yer too much fer me, Ian McVeigh.
Blurb: When beautiful, perfect basket ball hero Eric hits on grad student Marcus, it’s more than just another flirtation. Marcus realizes it’s time to take a good look at the difficult relationship he’s had with his unpredictable and bitter professor Julian for the past four years. He has to make a decision. Sure he’s ready to move on, he plans to give Julian one last Christmas gift; an unforgettable night, before he leaves.
He never expected to be the person who can’t get the passion they find on that last go round out of his head. His decision isn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. Maybe perfect isn’t everything after all.
Excerpt: “Damnit, Eric! Seriously?” I glared at the jock, refusing to acknowledge the man’s tight ass, or think how it would feel to have those forever legs wrapped around my waist. I’d had enough. Between the horsing around and Treadwell’s meaningful glares across the lot, I wanted the day to be over already. Unseasonably hot weather, even for the southern states, and the stress, had put a considerable damper on my Christmas spirit.
“Seriously.” Eric sauntered over and pinched a fold of my shirt between thumb and forefinger. ”Lighten up. You know these ladies who come here don’t give a shit how clean their cars get. They’re here for the eye candy, so give it up.”
“I am not taking my shirt off for some middle aged housewife to ogle me.”
Eric’s grin sharpened, his eyes went steamy. “Then do it for me.”
“What?!” I snatched the dribbling hose out of Eric’s hand. My heart thudded, hard, making a painful attempt to hammer its way up my throat. “Do-do what for you?” I backed up another step, my ass fetching up against the rear window of the car we’d been washing. The woman inside was, admittedly, not so very housewife-ish, and her accent–Irish, I thought, all thick and sexy, had given me goose bumps.
“Take your shirt off.” Eric’s low, husky demand sent a shiver of another sort through me that very quickly travelled south.
“For you.” Things like this didn’t happen. Wet dreams did not walk up to me and demand I start removing clothing.
“For me.” Eric plucked the hose from my numb fingers and dropped it to writhe on the pavement, spraying both our flip flops and feet with more chilly water. He reached over, snagged the hem of my t-shirt and lifted. “Show off all that fine dark skin, Marcus. You know you want to.”
“Want to what?” I’d lost the thread of the conversation somewhere in the smouldering heat in Eric’s blue eyes. He lifted the shirt and I lifted my arms so he could slide it off over my head.
One of his hands came back, sliding down my arm, chasing goose bumps over my chest. A thumb coasted across one nipple leaving a trail of sizzling excitement, and I gasped. His hand continued, tracing the side of my rib cage and came to rest on my hip, fingers hooked in the elastic band of my shorts. He was close enough I could feel the heat of his body.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing yet.” Eric’s other hand snuck up to rest against the side of my neck. “Unless you deck me in the next three seconds, though, I am going to kiss you.”
Eric’s lips covered mine, his tongue demanding, in the same gentle but inexorable way, entrance into my mouth. For a second or two, I stood, shocked, before finally catching up to the program and twining my tongue around his. Giving in to the moment, I let my own hands drift in a long, slow caress down Eric’s back to rest on his ass.
Eric pulled away, his look dark and teasing. “Your hands are on my ass.”
I nodded. “Yes.” I flexed my fingers. “And unless you’re going to deck me, I plan to leave them there.”
Eric grinned, his eyes flickering over my shoulder to the woman driving the car we’d been washing. “I think that poor woman is hyperventilating.”
I snickered. “You’d think she’d never seen a couple college brats swap spit before.”
“Think we can give her a mild heart attack?”
“We can try.” I peered over my shoulder and smiled at our audience. She winked back. “But I somehow think she’d give us a run for our money.”
Eric leaned close, his body pressuring me back. “Still. Worth the effort, don’t you think?” he asked, breathing along my neck and pressing his hard cock against my hip.
Another long, brain-addling kiss later, I was ready to concede maybe it actually was happening when a frigid spray of water blasted us both back into the parking lot and reality.
“Keep it family friendly, right?” Professor Treadwell glared us down and I stepped guiltily away from Eric.
Some time after they had left the diner, Amanda could only guess that they were venturing further into Queens and would soon, perhaps, be in Long Island. She kept scrutinizing the roads and the signs, looking for places she recognized. Unfortunately, she hadn’t traveled very much out of Manhattan during her stay at NYU and so nothing looked familiar to her. She settled for chatting with Jesse and enjoying the view from her window.
It was almost midnight when Jesse finally pulled off a major road and stopped at a nearby rest stop. He parked the car off to the side and gestured towards the sky.
“You can’t see this in Manhattan. Damn, it’s beautiful.”
She stared up at the sky and saw all of the individual stars that had been obscured by the pollution from the city. Amanda leaned back against the car, finding herself awed by the majesty of the sky combined with the gentle, clean breezes that swept through her hair. Away from the highway and the noises of the city to distract her, she experienced the outdoors at its fullest. She was spinning away in the galaxy towards the stars.
With a flourish, Jesse opened up the back door of the car.
“Here, sit down with me.” He sat on the seat and pulled her onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, they gazed up together at the night sky.
“Gods, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.
As he brushed her hair away from her face he merely commented, “And so are you.”
She turned to smile at him before resting her head onto his chest. They stayed that way for a few moments until Amanda began to feel that something was odd. She racked her brain to figure it out, still bedazzled by the night sky and the feeling of being in his arms, but couldn’t think of it.
Then at last she realized what it was: her ear was up against his chest, but she couldn’t feel nor hear a heartbeat.
Puzzled, Amanda wondered if it was just because his leather jacket muffled the sound, but that couldn’t have been it. At their close proximity, she should still be able to hear or feel something.
Figuring that the late hour and the fatigue were doing strange things to her mind, she dismissed it as her imagination. But in the silence between them, away from the city and the noise, the only breathing she heard was her own.
I must be losing it. But as she stared up into the sky, too many things fell into her mind, persistent in their logic. Amanda had never seen Jesse during the daylight, had never seen him more than perhaps taste food, didn’t know what he did for a living other than “freelance computer work”, and now she couldn’t hear a heartbeat nor him breathing.
“Jesse?” she queried, her hesitancy showing in her voice.
Feeling him freeze behind her, she wondered if he knew what was on her mind, and thought to phrase her next words with caution.
“You’re not a normal guy, are you? I mean,” she continued, trying not to rush through her words, let alone sound nervous, “not that I’m…all that normal myself, and all, but….” Her voice trailed off. Amanda did not know what to say, or how to say it.
Many moments passed without a response. With great deliberateness he ran his hands through her hair, and she delighted in the feel of his fingertips as they coursed through the strands, brushing against her neck as soft as silk.
In that moment she remembered their first dinner outing, when Jesse showed her the Latin magickal text which referred to strange allegories, symbols and various arcana. She recalled that the text kept referencing “blood” in some mystical context.
“Jesse?” Her voice was quieter, and she was no longer so certain that she was crazy.
Your time has come.
Copyrighted 2008 by Adrianne Brennan