Over the Threshold

by Mari Carr

  His smile took her breath away. “I love you too. And while those words are nice, the three letters I’m after are I do.”

  Becca laughed. “I think I can handle those.”

  She took his proffered hand as he led her into the house. Becca was shocked to discover Emma, Jack, Travis and Shea there, waiting for them.

  “You helped set this up too?” Becca asked Emma, though there wasn’t a spark of anger in her tone. Her friend had forced Becca to face the truth by setting up the Scoundrels fantasy. Emma had shown her exactly what was in front of her nose that she’d been too blind to recognize. She owed Emma so much.

  Emma shook her head. “Nope. I didn’t have a clue, I swear. Parker’s manager showed up right after the two of you made your escape and delivered invitations to all of us. We’re here to stand up as witnesses to your wedding.”

  Becca wanted to chastise Parker for being so cocky, so sure he’d get his way, but she was too damn happy to care. She was glad he was tenacious, thrilled and touched by the lengths he’d gone to. He’d grabbed this happy ending for them and known how much having her friends here would mean to her. It was just more proof that she was the luckiest woman on earth.

  “Thank you,” she whispered when he wrapped his arm around her, tugging her close. She felt tears forming in her eyes. In the past, she would have wiped them away, swallowed them down, rather than let the emotion show. This time, she didn’t care if the world saw. She was beyond happy, thrilled, overwhelmed. Amazed.

  Parker caught one with the tip of his finger. “Second thoughts?”

  She captured his hand and sucked his finger into her mouth. Parker’s gaze narrowed, lust reemerging. “Never.”

  Parker turned and found Shea winking at him. “Your manager asked me to deliver these to you.”

  She handed him a wreath of flowers that Parker placed on Becca’s head like a crown. “I’m sure you didn’t imagine yourself getting married in jeans and a T-shirt. If you want, we can have a big ceremony later, complete with a dress, tuxedos, a band and a million guests.”

  Becca reached up to touch the delicate wreath. “This is perfect. I don’t need anything more than tonight.”

  After a lifetime lived in the shadow cast by her father, Parker had thrown her center stage, shone the spotlight on her and made her feel like a star. It was a precious gift.

  “Bec, you know I can’t promise I’ll always be home. My career tends to take me away a lot.”

  Becca placed her fingers against Parker’s lips, dismissing his anxiety. “I’m fairly independent. I don’t need you with me every minute of the day. Though if you go on location somewhere beachy and sunny and filled with cabana boys, I’m tagging along.”

  Parker placed a quick kiss on her nose. “Not a problem. But be warned, I plan on dragging you to the snowy, cold places too to help me keep my feet warm.”

  “Any other concerns?” She’d meant her question as a joke, but Parker didn’t laugh.

  “I want kids.”

  Did he really think that would be a deal breaker? “So do I.”

  His face lit up. “Awesome. We’ll have a slew of them.”

  “We’ll have two,” she clarified.

  He chuckled. “Fine. But if the first two are boys, I reserve the right to talk you into three. I want a little girl with your dark hair and spunky personality.”

  “Alright. You have permission to try to convince me to have more.”

  Their friends laughed as they quickly sorted through the list of major life decisions couples needed to make prior to tying the knot. Then the justice of the peace asked if they were ready to begin.

  Becca nodded. “So ready.”

  Emma and Shea hugged her, wishing her a lifetime of joy and love. Jack and Travis shook Parker’s hand, slapped him on the back, and then Parker and Becca took their places.

  Becca gave Parker the three letters he’d asked for.

  And he gave them right back to her.

  They left together after a brief, but romantic ceremony. This time the driver did take them to Parker’s house.

  Parker had actually asked her opinion before buying the spacious bungalow in Los Feliz, bringing her to tour the house with him and the real estate agent. Suddenly, a light went on. “You brought me here last year to look at this bungalow with you.”

  He tightened his grip on her hand. “Yeah. I wanted to make sure you liked it. I knew that eventually I’d want this to be your house too. I actually intended to ask you out for dinner that night, hoping to convince you to date me, but I got called up for the role in Just Another Kiss after Jeremy Scott backed out at the last minute, remember?”

  She nodded. “You left the next morning and spent four months filming in Paris.”

  “And I hated every single second I was away from you.”

  She studied the quaint, bright red door and the palm trees that flanked the small porch. She’d fallen in love with the house the moment she had seen it. Now…it was going to be her home too.

  They held hands as they sauntered along the flagstone path. It was late, but neither of them was in a hurry. Time was on their side.

  Parker dug keys out of his pocket, unlocking the front door. Becca was about to step inside when he grasped her arm and held her back.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Nope. For the first time in a very long time, everything is right.” And with that, he lifted her in his arms and carried her over the threshold.

  The End

  Want to find out how the other Scoundrels couples, Emma and Jack and Shea and Travis found their happily ever afters? Check out Black Jack and White Knight, available now.

  Black Jack

  By Mari Carr

  When pirate Black Jack captures a ship at sea, he considers the territorial governor’s haughty daughter part of the spoils of war. Tying the fiery beauty to his bed, Jack claims Emma as his…over and over again.

  Jack has a secret. One he’s kept hidden from his best friend Emma…

  When she calls in a favor, asking Jack to perform in a pirate fetish fantasy at the nightclub she manages, Emma inadvertently opens Pandora’s box—for both of them. As portraying a dominant pirate forces more of Jack’s secret desires to light, Emma finds herself enmeshed in sensual explorations of BDSM, wax play, bondage and sex in public that leave her questioning her vanilla existence.

  When a second heated interlude on the stage finds her submitting to Jack, Emma suspects she’ll never find her way back to her simple missionary lifestyle. But with Jack in control…she’s not sure she wants to.

  An Excerpt From: BLACK JACK

  Copyright © MARI CARR, 2011

  All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

  Chapter One

  “Let go of me!”

  “Take it easy, lass. Come peacefully and no one will be hurt.”

  “No one will be hurt because I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Black Jack Carlysle tightened his grip on the young woman’s arm. He wasn’t accustomed to backtalk from any of his subordinates and he sure as hell wasn’t going to listen to it from a mere female.

  “I don’t think you fully understand your position here. My men and I have taken over your ship. Now we’re seizing our reward.”

  “Stealing is more like it. You haven’t earned anything on our ship. You’re a thief and a heathen and—ouch! You’re hurting my arm!”

  “I may be all you say and more, my dear, but the fact remains, I am the captain of this ship and you are part of the spoils of war.”

  The haughty woman slapped him. Hard. “We’ll see about that.”

  Jack was shocked momentarily. He heard a sharp gasp behind him and knew his men had witnessed her assault. He’d intended to take her below deck and lock her in the room next to his. He knew who she was. As daughter of the territorial governor, she’d fetch a fair price in ransom.

  Her blow and fiery rage ignited his temper and his final destination chang
ed as he pushed her toward the ladder that would take them to his cabin.

  “You will pay for that, my lady. In my bedroom.”

  His threat pulled her up short and her struggling ceasing. “You can’t be serious. Do you know who I am?”

  He chuckled mirthlessly. “I think the question that should be asked is, do you know who I am?”

  Her gaze narrowed, drawing his attention to light blue eyes surrounded by thick, long black lashes. Her cheeks were flushed a lovely pink due to anger and exertion. Her breathing had accelerated, each hastily inhaled breath thrusting her full breasts forward. She’d fill his hands nicely.

  No, Jack thought. It wouldn’t be a hardship bringing this hellion to heel.

  “I know exactly who you are, Black Jack. And if you think I’ll quiver at the mere mention of your dreaded name like the rest of the fools on my father’s ship, then I fear you’re destined for disappointment.”

  He grinned, pushing her harder than necessary toward the ladder. She stumbled slightly before catching herself. She was provoking him, daring the devil inside to come out to play. She’d struck him in front of his men. At that point, she’d lost the right to be treated with courtesy. Now he needed to make an example of her. Regardless of how much that idea rubbed against the grain.

  He liked to consider himself a gentleman—usually beyond kind with the terrified women they’d kidnapped in the past. More than a few times, he’d had to gently convince the captive ladies to return home once their ransoms had been paid.

  Clearly that wouldn’t be a problem this time.

  She turned to face him once more, but before she could speak, he raised his finger. “Silence, woman!”

  He didn’t intend to wage this battle in front of his men. It was high time she realized who she was dealing with.

  “How dare you speak to me—”

  Jack growled. Bending forward, he put his shoulder to the lady’s middle and lifted until her upper body hung upside down along his back.

  “What the—”

  “I’ve warned you more than once, my lady. Now you’re going to pay the piper.”

  “Awesome,” Emma Potter said, wiggling loose from Jack’s hold. “That was perfect.”

  Jack pulled the bandana off his head and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans. “I feel like an ass.”

  Emma laughed. “I owe you a big one for this, Smacker.”

  Jack ignored her use of the annoying nickname. After years of friendship, she still persisted in calling him by the silly name. She’d given it to him after they’d gotten more than a bit tipsy at a bar the night Emma turned twenty-one. She’d tripped and spilled her strawberry daiquiri down the front of his shirt. He’d spent the evening smelling like a little girl’s tube of Bonne Bell lip gloss. Emma had teased him the entire night, calling him Lip Smacker. Sadly, fourteen years later, the shortened version of the name still stuck.

  “I don’t think there’s a favor big enough in the world to repay me for this.” Jack leaned against the railing of the fake ship, looking out at the empty tables and chairs of the nightclub as he considered the fact they’d soon be filled with clubgoers, all watching his weak attempt at piracy.

  “True that,” Emma conceded. “You’re a lifesaver, Jack. Really. I was at my wit’s end this morning. I bet I made at least fifty phone calls.”

  “Glad to know I’m so high on your list,” he said sardonically, chuckling.

  “Believe me, that call list isn’t one you want to be on top of.”

  He looked around and shook his head. “Still find it hard to believe that you plan fetish fantasy shows for a nightclub. I’ve got to admit, when you were making your valedictory speech in high school, this wasn’t exactly where I pictured you ending up.”

  “Maybe not, but I bet you knew I’d be organizing awesome parties attended by all the biggest names, right?”

  Emma had been the queen of the social scene in high school. Jack thought it had probably surprised more than a few of their peers to discover she had such good grades, given her love of partying. Begrudgingly, he had to admit she was one of the most naturally intelligent people he’d ever met. She had a razor-sharp mind with a quick wit to match. Her photographic memory didn’t hurt either. Quite frankly, it had taken very little work for Emma to maintain her position at the top of their class. Not that it had been a very large class.

  They’d both enrolled in USC and moved to Los Angeles from Bumfuck, North Dakota, determined to escape their small town. The third in their small gang of friends, Travis, had come along for the ride as well, mainly because he thought living in L.A. would be a lark. Little did Jack and Emma know their unmotivated, antisocial best friend would find his niche in the City of Angels.

  “Yeah, I knew you’d plan awesome parties.” Jack reached up to rub his cheek. “Hey, did you have to slap me so hard?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You big baby. It wasn’t that hard. Besides, the sound has to carry through the room to make it authentic.”

  Jack crossed his arms. “I hope your actress doesn’t have your right hook or I’m likely to suffer a concussion.”

  “Not my fault. If you’ll recall, it was you and Travis who taught me how to fight.”

  “You were supposed to use those moves on the frat-boy assholes at college. Not me.”

  Emma shrugged. “Looks like I got a bonus from my lessons.”

  “Yeah, well, you try to lay another one of those bonuses on my face and I’m gonna return the smack. Only I won’t be aiming at the cheek on your face.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  White Knight

  By Mari Carr

  A sequel to Black Jack.

  Shea Landon knows this is a bad idea. But when you’re broke, tired and homeless, you do crazy things. She decides to crash in her new place of employment, a fetish club, borrowing the big, comfy bed that’s used as a stage prop. She doesn’t realize she’s not alone…

  Travis Knight knows this is a bad idea. As he views his new waitress sneaking around the club after hours, he realizes he should fire her, call the police. Instead, captivated, he watches her on the same security monitors that separate him from the world. Until watching isn’t nearly enough…

  Two people—one desperate, one broken, both hopelessly alone. Two people assuaging their needs through spanking and sex games, bondage and taboo fantasy. It’s enough. It has to be—when the biggest secret between them might be a tragedy neither can overcome.

  An Excerpt From: WHITE KNIGHT

  Copyright © MARI CARR, 2011

  All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

  Pulling out her tips for the night, Shea counted the money. She had a little over two hundred dollars. She sighed with relief, so happy to have money in her hands. It was enough for a room at the fleabag motel—as she liked to call the crummy place she’d been staying—and some food. Unfortunately it was two a.m. and she didn’t like the idea of venturing into East Hollywood so late. While she was desperate for a roof over her head, especially after spending last night dozing in a Laundromat chair, she wasn’t stupid enough to put herself in danger.

  She rubbed her eyes wearily, too tired to think. She couldn’t keep trying to exist from day to day. When she’d come to L.A., she’d had a plan, a goal. She looked one last time at the comfortable bed, wishing she could lay her head on the pristine white pillow. Then she stood up and headed back to the bar.

  “How you doin’, kid?” Bill asked.

  Shea had instantly liked the bartender. He was a gruff-looking man—ex-Marine, according to Emma—in his mid-forties. He was quick to laugh and just as quick to eviscerate rude drunks. As long as patrons behaved at his bar, all was well.

  “Fine. I finished cleaning in the theater.”

  “Great. The other gals took care of the dance floor area and the bar. I’m just about to finish a few things. You mind checking the bathrooms for me one last time? Make sure there aren’t any drunks curled up in the corner and the li
ghts are off.”

  She grinned. “I don’t mind. I’ll do it before I head out.” The back door to the club led to a parking lot. Shea recalled seeing an all-night diner across the street from the lot. Maybe she could have a cup of coffee there, caffeine up and try to figure out her next move. If she could remain awake until daybreak, she could hit the subway with the commuters and head back to the cheap motel to catch a few hours of sleep on the lumpy mattress.

  “Oh hey. Here’s your bag.”

  She’d asked Bill to stow her duffel behind the bar. She was ashamed to say everything she owned in the world was in that bag. He’d remarked on the size of it when she’d come to work, but mercifully hadn’t questioned her. “See you tomorrow, Shea.”

  She took the bag and hitched it onto her arm. “Good night, Bill.”

  Walking down the hallway, she heard Bill humming as he worked. She opened the door to the men’s room, peering inside. The place was empty. Switching the lights off, she crossed the hall to the women’s bathroom. It was also deserted.

  She recalled the bed on stage…the clean sheets, the soft mattress.

  An idea formed. A terribly stupid idea.

  Glancing back toward the bar, she noticed Bill had gone to the kitchen. She took a deep breath for courage—then walked into the bathroom and turned off the lights.

  The room was plunged into darkness and her heart began to race. Her earlier exhaustion gave way to nervousness and fear. What the hell was she doing?

  Feeling her way across the room, she let herself into the stall farthest from the door. Sitting down on the toilet, she waited in silence. Too many minutes later, she heard the sound she’d been dreading and anticipating. She lifted her feet and sat frozen. The back door opened then closed. She heard a lock being thrown into place.