by Vivi Andrews
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 from The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant:
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. “Even 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.
A lesson in seduction that releases lightning in a bottle…
All Bottled Up
Ó2009 Christine d’Abo
Call center worker Viola White makes a living selling dream vacations. Too bad her own life is a litany of unfilled fantasies. Prime example—the boss she pines for barely knows she exists. Now that she’s won a trip to a Mexican beach resort, though, she vows to shake things up. Instead she winds up alone, empty handed and with a sore toe from the beautiful bottle she’s tripped over.
A bottle that’s purple, gold—and stuffed with over six feet of blue-eyed, black-haired hunk. If anyone could teach her how to seduce her boss, it’s this sexy genie.
Jerod can’t believe his bad luck. Three thousand years of granting frivolous wishes, and now he’s stuck playing matchmaker. A series of sensual lessons later, he finds there’s something different about this shy Viola. Something that tempts him to try to break free of his curse and make a life for himself—with her.
All he has to do is convince Viola that the man of her dreams is a dud. And the right man for the job of loving her is a genie.
Warning: May cause spontaneous wish fulfillment, eye rolls, and a bad case of the giggles. No bottles were harmed in the writing of this novel.
Enjoy the following excerpt from All Bottled Up:
“He thinks we’re in love.”
Jerod chuckled as she fought not to choke on her drink a second time.
“What?” she asked, half coughing.
“The two of us, in a secluded booth. It’s a natural assumption.”
Viola felt her face warm, though she wasn’t sure if it was from his words, or from the second glass of wine she’d finished. Her head tingled as the alcohol began to work its way through her food-deprived body. What it did was give her courage to play along.
She dipped her finger into the wine, brought it to her lips, and sucked the drop off. She then lazily drew a line down her lips, along her neck, to rest on her chest at the dip of cleavage.
“So, teacher, what would Bill want to do at this point?”
It somehow felt wrong to bring up Bill’s name. But he was the reason she was here with Jerod after all. And Jerod didn’t seem to mind. His eyes were currently following her finger on its sensual journey of her neck.
“Bill would want your finger to go lower,” he said, his accent sounding heavier.
She got a chill of pleasure from listening to him. The exotic sound of his voice was an unexpected turn on. Something she’d never known about herself before.
“Viola.”
Her eyes flicked over his shoulder to see where the waiter was.
“No one can see you.” He sounded urgent.
“Undo the button.”
Who was she to argue with a genie? It only took a little pressure for her finger to release the button from its confines. Her skin was warm, her nail felt good as she grazed the sensitive skin. She felt bold. She never felt bold. Viola continued on and undid the third button.
Jerod sucked in a short breath and watched as she played with the top of her breast. Her finger felt foreign and thrilling at once.
“Bill would like that.” His whisper held a raw edge to it.
“Do you?”
Her question clearly caught him off guard as he straightened in his chair. With graceful speed, he moved his chair beside hers before she knew what was going on. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled it underneath the table. She found her hand in direct contact with his engorged cock.
“Does that answer your question?”
She flexed her fingers around him, but was at a loss for what to do next. They were in a restaurant, for God’s sake.
“You’re…”
“When I am in your world, I take human form. My body functions as it did before I was cursed. I always could appreciate beauty when I saw it.”
And how can a lady argue against that?
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You do that often. It makes you different from my previous masters.”
“Do what?”
“Show gratitude.”
She felt his cock swell, pulse with blood under her touch. When he released her wrist, she pulled her hand away, but didn’t remove it completely, resting it on his knee. He felt so warm, inviting, it was a temptation she’d never been faced with before. One she definitely wanted to explore.
Viola bit on her bottom lip as she tried to find the right words. “How can I not show gratitude for what you are doing for me? You’ve given me so much in such a short period of time. I look different, I even feel different. It’s amazing.”
“The waiter is coming,” he said, but didn’t move. “I should return to my seat to give you more room to eat.”
“Okay.”
He still didn’t move. Instead he picked up her hand and kissed it. In a flash he was back in his original spot.
“Drink your wine, darling.”
Viola couldn’t keep up. He had her so worked up, she thought she would burst. Before she could say anything else, Jerod flicked his finger and the buttons on her shirt redid themselves.
“No sense in giving him a show.”
With the steaming meal placed before them, their conversation died down. Viola concentrated on her fish and hoped she could sort out her emotions before the meal was done. She loved Bill. It was only natural that she’d project some of those emotions onto Jerod. He was, after all, showing her how to seduce the man. It would stand to reason she’d feel something for him as a result of all they were going through. Wouldn’t it?
After supper, Jerod waved his fingers and made a sizable stack of bills appear on the table.
“That should cover things nicely.”
Viola gasped. She’s never seen that much money in any one place at the same time.
“Ah…yeah. Nice tip.”
“He earned it. He didn’t flirt with you once.”
She giggled as they left the restaurant together. As soon as they reached the night air, Viola shivered. “I didn’t think it got this cold here at night.”
She heard him snap his fingers and out of nowhere a white knit shawl appeared in his hands. He took great care to drape it over her shoulders.
“We should get you back to your room. I would hate for you to get a summer cold.”
“Is that what Bill would do? Walk me back?” She couldn’t resist the urge to tease him.
Unfortunately, Jerod didn’t look amused.
“Not exactly. He would drive you home in his Ford and make advances toward you the entire time. Which reminds me of another lesson I need to teach you.”
“Rebuking his advances?”
He spun her around so fast she had to throw her arm up against his chest to prevent her from losing her balance.
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “No. Lesson five.”
Her mind was a whirlwind trying to remember the order of the lessons he’d outline at dinner. “Attitude?”
“Kissing.”
Love haunts…
Another Time Around
© 2009 Catherine Wade
Brin Maxwell once lived the ultimate rock-n-roll fantasy as the wife of the frontman for Hell’s Fury. It all ended in a flash—literally—with a lightning bolt that took Max’s life and left hers in suspended animation.
Two years later she’s ready to move on, but there’s a stumbling block: her sanity. Max’s ghost has decided to haunt her, and he’s got a bad habit of showing up at the most inconvenient moments. Like when she’s about to plant a long wet one on event planner David Lyle, the man she hopes will resurrect her love life.
David is real, solid, and makes her heart do the tango. He’s also curiously inept at his job—yet he has certain other talents that leave her wondering just what he’s hiding in his shadowy past.
Then there are the death threats. As they escalate from notes slipped under her door to full-scale, Kodak-moment terror, Brin realizes Max’s return is no coincidence. And that the only one she can turn to is David.
The man with the skills to save her life—unless he’s there to take it…
Warning: Contains strong language, violence, bad fake accents, and a fearless dog. May cause an overwhelming desire to put a lock on your underwear drawer.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Another Time Around:
“Do you always ask so many questions?”
“I warned you. I’m solving your mysteries.” David looked up at her and smiled, his hands working independently to split a vanilla bean and drop it into the cream. “I’m a curious person. If it annoys you, just say so.”
“It doesn’t exactly annoy me.” But she was still hesitant. “I guess I did tell you that if you had any questions to just ask.”
David winked. “I guess you didn’t expect me to take you so literally, did you?”
Brin sighed softly and smiled. What was her problem, anyway? Why the hell was she running so damned hot and cold? “That’s okay. But let’s talk about you for a while.”
“Fair enough. Quid pro quo.”
“Something like that. Hank tells me you were once a cop.”
David nearly scalded himself with hot cream. “Wow. And I thought I was the one with all the sources.”
“Didn’t I tell you that Hank’s really a spy? The FBI’s been trying to recruit him for years, but he’s holding out for the New York Times gossip-columnist spot.” Brin looked him over. “From your reaction, I take it that being a cop wasn’t the most pleasant experience of your life.”
He shook his head, going back to the cream. “Nah, nothing like that. It’s just that not many people in New York know about it.”
“Maybe because you ask too many questions and don’t answer any.”
David stopped stirring the cream long enough to return her grin. “Touché.”
He pulled the bananas out of the oven and the aroma hit Brin’s nose. Despite being full of steak and umpteen tons of bread, she was ravenous. “Man, that smells good.”
“Told you it’d get better.” He walked around to the table and pulled out the chair for her. “We’ll eat and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
He sat beside her as she took her first bite. It was like banana heaven. “Oh my God, this is fabulous,” she mumbled around the flaky pastry.
“I’m glad you like it.” He made a sweeping bow even as he sat. “So quid pro quo, then? Shoot.”
Brin looked him over as she nibbled on a tender banana. Why start being delicate now? “Tell me about being a cop.”
He dug into his own plate and chewed thoughtfully. “I was on the force once upon a lifetime. Down in Arlington, Virginia.”
“Nice t
own. What made you leave it? And what made a cop turn into a party planner?”
“Event planner,” David corrected with a crooked grin.
“Sorry. Event planner.”
David flashed a smile that made her toes curl. “I see I’m not the only one solving mysteries here. Why beat around the bush when you can burn straight through it, right?”
“Right.”
His gaze shifted and he put down his fork. He laced his fingers and drew a breath. “I’d been on the force for about ten years when I was assigned a new partner. She was straight out of the academy, but she knew what she was doing. A good cop. A good friend.”
Brin chewed slowly, letting his intensity settle over her. “What happened?”
“There was an incident. There had been a break-in. Two perps. I went after one, my partner went after the other. I got my guy, but the other pulled a gun on my partner. Or so it seemed at the time. Turned out he was trying to empty his pockets of the drugs he had on him. In the end, my partner went down for shooting an unarmed suspect.”
She felt a sudden urge to reach out to him, but resisted it. “Did they think—I mean, were you—”
“Implicated? No. I was a block away at the time.” He took another bite of his tart, taking out his frustration while he chewed. “But after that I just couldn’t be a cop anymore. I needed out.”
Brin swallowed hard. “So you came here.”
He nodded. “There wasn’t much to stay in Virginia for. My partner was gone. Reputations were ruined. It would never be the same for me and I knew it.”
Brin swallowed again, trying to get rid of the lump that was lodged in her throat. “Was the guy killed?”
“The suspect? Yeah.” David focused on his plate again.
Way to step on a landmine, Brin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”