by Vivi Andrews
“No sense borrowing trouble. The humans will come or they won’t. Only time will tell.” Landon soothed his mate, stroking her hair. “We’ll deal with the next crisis as it comes.”
For several moments, only soft rustling sounds disturbed the quiet of the Alpha’s bungalow. Then, “Do you think they’ll be happy, Landon? Michael is so much younger than she is.”
A soft growl rumbled in the Alpha’s throat. “Is your brother older than you?”
“A year.”
“Are you unhappy with your old mate?”
“You aren’t old. And you know I couldn’t be happier.”
“Is your brother fickle?”
“Michael? God, no.”
“Then stop worrying about him. If you want to worry about someone, try my sister.”
“Zoe?” A soft laugh. “She can take care of herself.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” the Alpha grumbled.
Silence fell again, broken only by Ava’s soft sigh, as both the Alpha of the Three Rocks pride and his mate took a moment to forget their worries. Until the next crisis arose.
About the Author
Vivi Andrews lives in Alaska when she isn’t indulging her travel addiction. She’s currently hard at work on her next paranormal romance. For more about her books or the exploits of a nomadic author, please visit her website at www.viviandrews.com or stop by her blog at viviandrews.blogspot.com. Vivi also loves to hear from readers and invites you to email her at [email protected].
Look for these titles by Vivi Andrews
Now Available:
Karmic Consultants
The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant
The Ghost Exterminator: A Love Story
The Sexorcist
Serengeti Shifters
Serengeti Heat
Serengeti Storm
Serengeti Lightning
Coming Soon:
The Naked Detective
It’s not smart to piss off a poltergeist…
The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant
© 2009 Vivi Andrews
A Karmic Consultants Story
It’s bad enough to be sexually frustrated. But as a medium, it means until Lucy Cartwright gets some, she’s doomed. Oh no, not to death. Worse. To nightly visitations by recently deceased, wanna-be Cassanovas without the bodies to back it up. Then a living, breathing fantasy arrives on her doorstep, and Lucy thinks her dry spell is at an end.
Much as he would like to be Lucy’s personal gigolo, PI Jake Cox has a job to do. He’s been sent to prevent her from getting laid until a particular horny phantom—and key witness in his mob investigation—pays her a visit. The real challenge? Keeping his own hands off Lucy long enough to get the job done.
Or the lonely, geeky ghost of a murdered mob accountant could rip a hole in the fabric of the universe…
Warning: This book contains cheesy pick-up lines, amateur stripteases, and voyeuristic intentions—all by dead men. And the living behave just as badly…
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant:
Lucy took one look at that devastating grin and knew she was in trouble. Not the James Bond dodging bullets, running for your life kind of trouble, but trouble of the Moneypenny variety—unrequited lust with a man who knew exactly how mouthwatering he was and was going to tease you with his gorgeous body and wicked, flashing eyes until you melted into a puddle of hormones. Moneypenny should have gotten hazard pay.
Lucy looked down at the loaded muffin tray—baking was supposed to relax her, dammit—and mentally tried to navigate a path to the oven that did not put her in the line of fire, so to speak. He seemed to be everywhere. Long legs, massive shoulders, fantastic ass—every time she turned around, she saw something else to be tempted by.
And, oh boy, was she tempted.
Even if he was her boss’s brother. And so far out of her league, she had no business even fantasizing about him.
Lucy knew what she was, and more importantly, she knew what she wasn’t.
Lucy Cartwright was no sex goddess. When men described her, they used words like cute and sweet. She was adorable and domestic. And she had long since learned that the bad boys she lusted after took one look at her good-girl dimples and ran for the hills.
When she tried to be sexy, she looked and felt ridiculous, so she giggled. Sexy women did not giggle. They had throaty, sexy voices and throaty, sexy laughs. They probably had sexily scarred vocal chords from all the post-coital cigarettes they were smoking. Lucy was not a smoker—which seemed to mean both no lung cancer and no sex.
Some women were Aphrodite and some women were Martha Stewart. Unfortunately, Martha Stewart never got laid. Please God, why wasn’t Jake Cox a gigolo?
Lucy slipped past the eye-candy in her kitchen, set the timer and shoved the muffin tray into the oven. Then she heard him breathing. He’s allowed to breathe, dammit, she told her hormones, but they weren’t listening. They were already summoning up fantasies involving breathing. And panting. And gasping.
So Lucy gasped, and swore, as her hand brushed the hot oven rack. She snatched her hand out of the oven, mentally cursing her stupidity, and slammed the door closed.
“Did you burn yourself?” Jake demanded, stepping forward and immediately taking control.
He caught her wrist and held it up for inspection. Seeing the vivid red welt rising on the back her hand, he tugged her over to the sink and turned on the faucet with a single-minded economy of movement that was somehow indescribably hot.
Dear God, I’m doomed. Even his first aid is sexy.
He temperature-tested the tap with his own hand before thrusting her burn beneath the cool, running water. “Keep it there,” he ordered, already on his way to the freezer. He was back a moment later, a clean dishtowel wrapped around a bundle of ice. “Here, let me see.”
He gently took her wrist and drew her hand out of the water, cautiously inspecting the burn. His attention was so focused, so intent, as he brushed the soft skin around the burn with his fingertips, careful not to touch the wound itself. He bent and blew cool air on her hand before gently pressing the ice pack over it, his concentration complete. Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if he would bring that focus and intensity to everything he did. A delicious shiver ran down her spine.
“I know it’s cold,” he said, and Lucy was relieved he didn’t suspect the real reason for her shivering—she was embarrassed enough already. “You need to keep it on there for twenty minutes or so.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Jake shook his head abruptly, rejecting her gratitude. “My fault. I shouldn’t have been distracting you while you were cooking.”
“You weren’t distracting me,” Lucy lied, knowing she was blushing. Again.
“No?” He arched his eyebrows skeptically then reached up to brush the back of one finger against her cheek. “You have flour all over your face.”
Lucy winced internally. Great. Now, not only was she as red as a turnip, she had the distinction of being a blotchy, flour-coated turnip with a propensity for burning herself. Oh yeah, he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off her now.
She waited for him to laugh at her. She waited for him to turn away, writing her off as ridiculous. She waited…until he tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. Eyes that didn’t look mocking or superior, but rather curiously intent.
Oh my.
He brushed at the clinging flour on her cheeks, his calloused hands tentatively caressing. Lucy gazed up at him, trying to remember how to breathe, or think, or do anything other than stare at him with her heart in her throat and her stomach down around her toes. They were standing near the oven, but Lucy had a feeling the burning sensation rippling along her skin had more to do with the mountain of solid muscle in front of her than the oven behind. He smiled gently, his hands still cradling her face. “Eve
n without the flour, you look pretty damn edible,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.
The world slowed and tightened until they were the only two people in it, and time was frozen in that thick moment when she knew he was about to kiss her. She stood paralyzed, hopeful, but not allowing herself to hope.
He bent toward her slowly, his gorgeous black eyes shuttered by thick black lashes. Lucy’s eyes fell closed and she held herself perfectly still, desperate, waiting. When his lips finally touched hers, it was like putting a spark to a fast-burning fuse. A fuse attached to a stick of dynamite.
Lucy dove recklessly into the kiss, arching against him shamelessly. The first tentative brush of his mouth instantly became an urgent, open-mouthed exchange. She wound her arms around his shoulders and he gripped her butt in both hands, lifting her to get a better angle on her mouth, a better angle of her body pressed against his.
As soon as her feet left the floor, Lucy looped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. Jake took two steps across the kitchen and pinned her against the refrigerator, the cool, smooth surface teasing her exposed shoulder blades where the spaghetti straps of her sundress left them bare. Lucy gave a little groan of pure, unadulterated lust, her hormones throwing an orgiastic party when Jake immediately echoed it. Now, this is how a gigolo behaves.
Jake grabbed the knees squeezing his waist with both hands and shifted her slightly for better access. The combination of his fingers teasing the sensitive skin at the backs of her knees and the sudden, grinding friction of his jeans where she wanted it the most was nearly enough to send her off right there. Lucy let her head fall back against the refrigerator, her eyes closing in anticipation of bliss as she sent a little prayer of thanks to the gods of nookie.
He has the one thing she never thought she deserved. A place to belong…
Revelation
© 2010 Lauren Dane
De La Vega Cats, Book 2
At long last, Kendra Kellogg has found her sister—but she’s no closer to filling the gaps in her past. The magick that brought them together makes them targets for dark mages intent on finishing what started with their mother’s murder.
As if her life wasn’t chaotic enough, in barrels the one thing she doesn’t expect, Max de La Vega. He’s six-and-a-half-feet of cocoa-brown alpha male. He’s strong, intelligent, sexy and intense. Everything she’d wanted in a man. And he scares the hell out of her. Still healing from a disastrous past relationship, she wonders if she’ll ever have that kind of forever.
The next in line to run his jaguar jamboree, Max is unused to hearing “no”. Once he knows what he wants, he assumes he’ll get it. And he wants Kendra. She deserves happiness and it’s his mission to give it to her.
When dark mages attempt to steal her magickal energy, Max’s cat agrees with the man—Kendra is his to protect and he will stop at nothing to keep her safe. She can push him away as hard as she likes, he’s not going anywhere.
Warning: Prickly, grumpy witch, bossy alpha male, scorching hot sexual attraction, toss in some bad words, a little bit of violence and a whole lot of action.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Revelation:
She was right, there was no threat outside. Still, Max shadowed her as she moved, giving her the space to work, but keeping close enough to protect her if it was necessary. He didn’t hide his smile. He messed with her concentration? Every breath Kendra Kellogg took messed with his concentration. Even now as she did her magick mojo thing, moving around the yard efficiently, spilling that vibrant red-golden, warm magick in her wake, she took up every bit of his imagination and attention.
She was spirited, a huge turn-on for him. He loved women with an attitude, smart, strong women who didn’t take any shit. He liked her sense of humor and the way she stood up to him.
His cat loved her strength. She was fierce, the kind of woman a man could trust.
It probably wouldn’t have been as bad if he hadn’t scented her. Twice. That was more intimate than the brief kiss of a few nights ago. Now her scent lived in him. God in heaven she smelled like sex. Like sex and comfort; like strong, sexy witch, and his cat practically kneaded his insides to get to her.
No one had affected him the way she did and he didn’t quite know what to do with it. What he did know was the idea of her being in danger had set his cat so close to the surface he paced, on guard, just to keep his human skin. He supposed it was simply another piece of proof that she was indeed meant to be his.
“What do you sense?” he asked when she got near enough to hear.
“Nothing. Not even a smear of the dark energy. Maybe I was wrong.” She frowned, shivering. He stepped closer, giving her some of his body heat, satisfied when she stopped shivering.
He doubted very much that she’d been wrong about the attack, though. He’d watched her from day one. She seemed to have a good grasp of her abilities. “Do you really think so?”
She thought for long moments before shaking her head no. “I don’t think I was wrong at all.”
“Me either. I think you felt it and I think your father has something to do with it.”
Her eyes lost their warmth at the mention of her father, not that Max blamed her. He’d be right in line behind Jack and Galen when they finally got hold of Andrew Parcell, or whatever the fuck the man was really named.
“Now that we know he had some involvement in my mother’s death, I have every reason to believe he’s connected to these other attacks. I don’t like that. At all. I don’t know what they have of Renee’s. That bitch most likely kept her hair or other physical links. I think I found a way to nullify that. When I find them they’re going have to deal with me. I will find them. And they’ll pay. For what they did to our mother, and for what they did to my sister.”
Christ, when she got bloodthirsty it only made him want her more. He cocked his head and spoke before he meant to. “You enchant me.”
That startled her. “I do? Is that a good thing?”
He laughed. “Yes. No. Hell I don’t know, but I like it. I plan to explore that. With you. Just so you know.”
She pursed her lips. “Oh.” She licked her lips, as if she tasted the words before saying them. “All right.”
He shook his head at her when she grinned his way.
She’d hit him like a bus, knocked into his consciousness when he had least expected it. Kendra Kellogg left him dazed and wanting more. Earlier that afternoon when she’d come out of Renee’s office he’d just watched her. Fascinated that she looked like Renee, and yet totally different. Her chic curtain of super straight hair, short enough to leave her neck exposed, those eyes, far more green than brown, thickly lashed and God, the dimples at each corner of that fucking delicious mouth—she was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen.
He’d been deep in a naughty fantasy about a hunt to see if she had any more freckles than the ones he’d seen on her forearms, when her entire demeanor had changed, became serious.
His cat had gone on instant alert, dragging all the cats in the room into hypervigilance with him. Jack had as well, the wolves cued to his moods in much the same way. Max had stood, looking to her. Taking his cues from her.
It had been the way she braced her feet apart and took on an onslaught of dark magics that had really pushed him into acting at long last. The kiss had been impulsive, but now he was decisive. He wanted her and she needed to know it. Her ferocity had pushed every last one of his defenses away.
That and the look of fear and panic when Galen had touched her and he’d blocked the door, the recoil she was able to get control of fairly quickly. Someone had done that to her, hurt her so that despite her strength, her first instinct was to try to make herself smaller and get out of arm’s reach. Like prey.
Every male on the landing and in the hallway had felt it, seen it, and went into overdrive, wanting to protect her. Max did what he always did, he acted decisively and in doing so, found himself totally off balance and unsure for the f
irst time since he was a teenage boy.
“Whatever it was or whoever sent it, it’s gone.” She looked around the yard, pretending he hadn’t just told her he’d set his cap for her. “It’s fine out here,” she said quietly.
“Are they safe?” He jerked a thumb toward the house.
“None of us are safe until this is dealt with. But this house and yard will hold safely. I’ll go out to Cambridge tomorrow and talk with Mary.”
“Mary?”
“She’s a powerful practitioner, a friend of my aunt’s. Mary’s been away for a month, but left a note that she’d be back this week and told me to stop in.” Kendra reached for the gate, and in her full view, slowly but firmly, Max put his hand over hers.
“You look shaken. I’m taking you to dinner.”
She opened her mouth, most likely to argue, these sisters were quite alike on that front.
“You can tell me about Mary and your plans. Fill me in on just how safe you are at your apartment too. Gibson will only ask me about it tomorrow anyway.”
“You’re bossy.”
“So everyone tells me. It’s my job to be bossy. But you’re no doormat, I know it and so do you.” He reached out and ran a fingertip over the tips of her hair. “No matter who tries to make you feel otherwise.”
“Why do you want to take me to dinner? Really?”
Oh she had no idea. He smiled at her, slow and assessing. Her eyes widened and then slid a quarter down, sexy and slumberous and all sorts of buttons and levers got pushed at the sight.
“I want to take care of you. You look pale. Got a heavy scare. And I like you.”
“Even if I’m feeling like steak and lobster?” She smirked, teasing. He liked it. Only his family teased him. It was intimate and showed she trusted him.
“Mmm, sounds very good.” He held out an arm and she sighed before taking it. “What? You thought I’d be scared off by an expensive dinner? I know just the place and you can have the biggest lobster in the tank if you want.”