Colters' Lady: Colters’ Legacy, Book 2

by Maya Banks

  “Don’t you want to be rid of the bastard who hurt you?” Ryan asked.

  She looked up to see him studying her, probing her as if measuring her reaction. Her eyes narrowed. Did he think she wanted to stay married to Mason?

  “After what you heard, how can you doubt that?” she asked, staring back at him just as intently.

  They squared off, neither backing down as they burned holes through each other with their eyes.

  He relaxed his stance then crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

  It pissed her off that she found herself crossing the room to stand in front of him.

  He pulled her roughly into his arms and melded his lips to hers.

  She moaned low in her throat. God, he felt so good. She threaded her arms around his neck, and in that moment, she didn’t give a damn what he thought about her. She wanted to rip his clothes off.

  He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and nipped erotically. He wasn’t gentle. His touch was demanding. He slid his hands underneath her shirt, upward until he cupped her breasts in his palms.

  She flinched when his thumbs flicked her nipples. She arched closer to him, wanting more.

  Her breath came in ragged spurts as his mouth left hers. He burned a trail down her neck then sank his teeth in the curve of her shoulder.

  She cried out, her legs collapsing beneath her.

  Something caught her. Not something. Someone. She found herself rocked against two hard chests. One in front. One in back.

  Gentle kisses rained where before Ryan’s teeth had seared her skin. She leaned back, wanting more of Ethan’s touch.

  Ryan shoved her shirt upward, baring her breasts. He bent and sucked one nipple into his mouth. God, he was hot. No preamble with him. No teasing. He went for it. Hard and fast.

  “Do you want it?” Ryan murmured.

  Did she want it? If she didn’t get it, she was going to kill someone.

  “If you don’t want this, now is the time to say so,” Ethan said as he rocked her ass against his rock-hard erection.

  “No, don’t stop. Please.”

  “Never let it be said I could refuse a lady,” Ethan said, his voice thick with desire.

  Ryan pulled the shirt the rest of the way from her body and tossed it on the floor. He hooked his finger in the waistband of her jeans and pulled her hard against him.

  He devoured her mouth with his as he fumbled with the zipper. In a few seconds, he was impatiently shoving her pants down her hips.

  “You’ve got too many clothes on,” she protested.

  Ryan’s eyes flashed. “In the bedroom. Now.”

  The voice of an angel, a husband who loved her—she had it all…until a tragedy took it away.

  Songbird

  © 2009 Maya Banks

  A Linger Story

  They called her their Songbird, but she was never theirs. Not in the way she wanted.

  The Donovan brothers meant everything to Emily, but rejected by Greer and Taggert, she turned to Sean, the youngest. He married her for love, and she loved him, but she also loved his older brothers.

  Her singing launched her to stardom. She had it all. The voice of an angel, a husband who loved her, and the adoration of millions. Until a tragedy took it all away.

  Taggert and Greer grieve for their younger brother, but they’re also grieving the loss of Emmy, their songbird. They take her back to Montana, determined to help her heal and show her once and for all they want her. They’re also on a mission to help her find her voice again. Under the protective shield of their love, she begins to blossom…until an old threat resurfaces.

  Now the Donovans face a fight for what they once threw away. Only by winning it—and her love—will their songbird fly again.

  Warning: Explicit sex, ménage a trois, multiple partners, a committed polyamorous relationship, adult language, and sweet loving.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Songbird:

  The gentle strains of a guitar woke Emily from her sleep. She blinked fuzzily, wondering if it was just part of a dream. It was still dark outside, but a quick glance at the clock told her dawn wasn’t far off.

  A haunting melody, so simple and beautiful, floated over her ears. Her chin trembled. It was the first song she’d recorded—a song she’d written long ago when she and the Donovan brothers had spent a spring afternoon in the rain. Mountain Rain.

  She closed her eyes and let the chords take her back to the nights spent round a campfire, Sean playing the guitar while she sang. Taggert and Greer sat by the fire, their long legs stretched out, their brims pulled low over their foreheads and their worn boots reflecting the flicker of the flames.

  Drawn to the music, she eased out of bed and walked into the hallway to stand at the top of the stairs. Clad in only her flannel PJs, she followed the sound of the guitar down to the living room and realized it was coming from the front porch.

  Her legs shook, and she had to steady herself by reaching down to grasp the arm of the couch. Who was playing? And moreover, her song?

  The words to the song floated through her mind, and she was reminded of earlier, happier days. Carefree.

  She opened the front door and stepped into the chilly morning air. The music stopped, and she found herself staring at Taggert, his hand frozen over the strings as he stared back at her.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Taggert said.

  “I didn’t know you played.”

  He glanced down at the guitar, and it was then she realized it was Sean’s.

  “I don’t play well. Been fiddling with it for the last year.”

  “It sounded beautiful,” she said in a low voice.

  He looked back up at her, his gaze roving over her face until she could feel it caressing her cheek.

  “Will you sing if I play?”

  Her hand flew to her throat and she shook her head forcefully. “No. I c-can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?” he persisted. “Emmy, it’s been a year. Yours is the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my life. You have a talent that astounds me, and you’re wasting it.”

  She shook her head again, unable to voice her terror, to admit her guilt, that it was because of the voice he loved so much that Sean was dead. She hated it. She couldn’t even think about singing without her throat closing in on her.

  She sank down onto one of the rockers. “Play for me,” she begged.

  His fingers stuttered over the strings for a moment, clumsy at first, and then he strummed the first chords of Montana Memories, a song she’d written specifically for the Donovan brothers. Did he know? Had he guessed?

  She wrapped herself in the beauty of the music, allowing it to give her comfort when nothing else had. When the last note died and the skies began to lighten in preparation for sunrise, she sought his gaze and asked the question burning a hole in her mind.

  “Why?”

  His brow furrowed. “Why what?”

  “Why did you come after me? Why did you bring me back here? Why…do you and Greer act as though I mean something to you…more than being your brother’s widow?”

  He sucked in his breath and carefully laid the guitar aside. His hands wiped along the tops of his legs and then gripped the area just above his knees. He looked…nervous. That puzzled her. Taggert was brash, temperamental, outspoken, opinionated, but she’d never seen him nervous.

  “We made a mistake,” he said in a raw voice. “One that’s cost us a lot. One we’ll regret making the rest of our lives.”

  “We?”

  “Greer and I, but he’s not here, so I can only speak for me. I made a mistake, Emmy. I pushed you away. I was surprised, even a little appalled that you claimed to love all of us, that you wanted to be with us. I was angry—jealous—and so I sent you away.”

  She stared at him in shock. Had he changed his mind? Now? After four years?

  “Don’t you see, Emmy? If I hadn’t sent you away, you could have been with us. You would have never turned to Sean the
way you did and the two of you wouldn’t have left here. You would have been happy and wouldn’t have spent so much time avoiding us. You and Sean would have stayed here and not in a hotel in town, and you damn sure wouldn’t have been walking back to the hotel from the café the night Sean was killed.”

  Oh God, it hurt. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to deny that he was at fault, but she couldn’t find the words. Her mind screamed no, no, no in a never-ending litany, but instead of saying it, she got up and walked back into the house, leaving Taggert calling after her.

  She walked past the living room, through the kitchen to the back door with no destination in mind. She let herself out, shivering when her bare feet made contact with the cold ground.

  She went in the opposite direction of the stables, through the gate and down the worn pathway to the pond. The water looked dark and forbidding in the faint light, and she hurried on until she topped the slight rise beyond.

  She came to a stumbling halt by the large oak tree that sheltered the headstones beneath. Some of them old, dating back a hundred years, and one much newer.

  It wasn’t necessary for the sun to shed its light over the engraving. She knew it by heart. Sean Donovan, beloved brother and husband.

  Pain. Unrelenting pain. A tiny crack formed in the thick ice protecting her. Spreading rapidly, splintering in all directions. Unstoppable.

  Panic swelled in her chest. A garbled noise caught in her throat. She couldn’t breathe and oh God, it hurt. She needed help. She was going to explode. Something was terribly wrong. She was losing control and felt her insides straining against unbearable pressure.

  She tried to take a breath and then another. Her eyes flooded with tears and sobs piled up deep inside her chest. The agony was unbearable. She was going to break. Maybe she was having a heart attack. How could it hurt so much?

  A horrible noise echoed across the hillside, startling her, and then shockingly, she realized the sound came from her, from the very bowels of hell.

  Another followed, and she fell to her knees as finally, she shattered.

  In this game of love, winning is not an option.

  All Or Nothing

  © 2010 Dee Tenorio

  The Lonnigans, Book 2

  Lucas Lonnigan thinks he’s finally gotten the best of his twin brother, until he discovers his half of a date-swap is none other than metal artist Belinda Riggs. A leather-dipped Goth queen who considers him a cross between a pin cushion and a science project—and the woman he’s loved forever.

  Belinda isn’t exactly overjoyed to see him, either. In her opinion, love means becoming a punching bag, and she won’t be anyone’s doormat. Lucas is too dangerously tempting to allow within striking distance of her heart, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting.

  After one blazing night of passion, Lucas finds himself locked out of Belle’s life with seemingly no chance to get back in. With nothing left to lose, Lucas makes a final play and appeals to the one thing Belle can’t say no to—a dare. Winner take all.

  Lucas may think this crazy game will decide their relationship, but she sees it as her chance to finally set him free—and maybe indulge in the sexiest goodbye of her life…

  Warning: Story may sizzle your undies off. Includes pigheaded hero with a cranky heart of gold, bitchy heroine with a flamethrower, massively inappropriate behavior, make-up / break-up sex of the sinful kind…and a puppy!

  Enjoy the following excerpt for All Or Nothing:

  Only decent people feel guilty, Belinda told herself while she tried to drown in her shower. Face to the hard, hot spray, she hoped the stinging impact would wash the sense of guilt away. The last thing anyone had called her for the past decade was decent. She thrived on being rude, heartless and flat-out bitchy when the occasion called for it. The tugs of conscience were harder to feel that way. Usually. But now, because of a box of scraps, the tugs of guilt were feeling more like whips.

  It’s for his own good.

  He’d move on. Find someone who would love him like he deserved. Love him like he needed. Someone at least slightly less wrecked than herself.

  But being right and being guilt-free were apparently not mutually exclusive.

  Angry, she turned off the water…and heard so loud a clank Michigan could have landed outside. She frowned at the handle, but then there was another crunching clank. Rising on her toes, she tried to look out the small window at the top of the stall, but could only see a piece of metal flying. What the hell was going on out there?

  Then she heard the bark.

  Eyes wide, she lowered herself from the window. Lucas. In her yard. While she was naked.

  That sprang her into action more than anything, despite the fact that he was hucking around heavy metal like it was a discus tournament. She threw back the curtain, grabbing the towel waiting there on her way out. Not wanting to take any more time than necessary, she dried off with only a ragged pat-down. She was too busy trying to rustle up her temper to acknowledge her terror at being cornered. He had no right to be there uninvited. He had no right coming when he knew she didn’t want him there. He simply had no rights at all.

  She stomped into a pair of coveralls, yanked on a worn pink tank top that had seen enough bleach to make it good for summer work and wrapped a bandana over her wet hair to keep it out of her face. By the time she had her work boots secure, she was fantasizing about introducing him to the steel toe. He probably didn’t hear her rumbling down the steps, but he damn sure heard her when she exited the bay doors to the open yard beyond with her hands on her hips and the fire of hell in her lungs.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “You don’t want to be pushing my buttons right now, Belle,” he answered in typical growl mode, not bothering to look at her.

  She scoffed, watching him pick up an abandoned sink from the back of the ancient Mazda flatbed she used for junking and take it to a pile of other midsized items. He was in cut-off gray sweat shorts and tennis shoes. His T-shirt was off, one end tucked into his back waistband, leaving all that warm honey skin open to her viewing pleasure. Mad or not, it was a pleasure to look at him, especially since he was already slick.

  “You’re in my yard, Lonnigan. I can push any button I damn well please.”

  He ignored her. He actually ignored her. A few pieces of pipe got thrown into the small pipe pile, making the puppy yelp as he hopped to avoid things being lobbed all around. He wasn’t in any danger, but she could tell by his darting eyes and tucked tail, he didn’t know that.

  Against her better judgment, she bit her inwardly cupped lower lip and whistled. “Over here, Sparky, before your daddy kills you.”

  The pup was grateful, running awkwardly on huge paws, but if the suddenly flying wheel rims were any indication, Lucas wasn’t.

  “I didn’t ask you to do this.” Not that she ever did. She had a deal with the local junker to take a truckload of sortables off his hands each month. Lucas always showed up on sort day to load up her truck at the junkyard and unload it in her metal yard. It was just one other thing she’d have to learn to do without him. She hadn’t had the energy to do it since their “date”. Hard to believe it happened less than a week ago.

  She circled the truck, putting her hand on the bed wall while he reached in for another sink. He dragged it toward himself, every muscle in his arms and torso flexing with the effort and all but knocking the wind out of her.

  Huffing, she grabbed the edge of the sink and tugged it her way. “Stop. I don’t want you to do this.”

  “This isn’t about you,” he bit out. He wouldn’t even look at her, but his leather gloves made a loud noise as he tightened his grip.

  “Like hell it isn’t.”

  “What I mean is that I don’t care what you want, Belle.” He yanked the sink out of her grasp, hefted it onto his shoulder and walked away with it.

  She stayed there, her mouth open in shock while he crossed to her piles and dumped it unceremoniously next to the
last one. He walked back, his eyes narrow in the morning sunlight but flaring with brilliant color anyway. Rage made him dangerous. She could sense the ripple of power under his control, feel the energy crackling through him. Her response to it felt elemental, like a magnet being drawn to a far more powerful source. She held the truck wall tighter to keep from going to him, despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking at her to beckon her. In fact, he was looking everywhere but at her. Which only angered her more.

  “Lucas!” She felt his attention shift to her even if his eyes didn’t. “What part of go away is hard for you to understand?”

  He flexed his hands inside the work gloves. Open once. Close once. Open again. Then they closed into a knot of flesh and leather. She felt his gaze hit her like a fist, instantly making her regret pushing.

  She took a step back. Not in fear of him, but his intensity. Every emotion seemed to flow like molten energy in his eyes. Pain. Desire. Anger. Need. Hot, hungry need. She took another step as he came towards her.

  “What’s the matter, Belle? You look worried.”

  Because she was. “I don’t want you here.”

  “Why?” She must look defensive, too, if his pleased perusal meant anything.

  “Why what?”

  “Why don’t you want me here?” With each word he came closer and she retreated further to the warehouse. The dog danced around her feet, looking for a place to stay, probably wondering if this was a game. “You never had a problem with me here before.”

  “I have a problem now.” Yeah, brilliant response, dumbass.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Run for friggin’ Congress, Belinda. Geez.

  “Oh, yes, you do. You never have, but you should.”

  His autocratic remark finally cemented her feet in place. Anger, wonderful, spine-stiffening anger, flooded her. He kept advancing, stopping only when their chests touched with each heaving breath they took. Not that she understood why either of them was breathing so hard. They were only talking…right?

  She poked her finger against his chest. “All I should have to do is tell you to go, Lucas. That’s enough for everyone else.” Well, it would be, if anyone else were allowed on her property.