Playing for Keeps

by Shiloh Walker

  Because of the exposure, my doctors were treating me as a high-risk patient. When my husband and I went to get the ultrasound, I knew the moment I saw that there was something wrong. It was one of the hardest moments of my life, sitting there with him in the room after the tech left to get the doctor. I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to look at the screen. All I could do was hope the tech had done it wrong, even though I knew better. My husband was as quiet as I was, and even though we didn’t speak, we both knew.

  The day before, I’d felt the baby move—a strange first movement, almost painful and very hard. But it was the only time I ever felt her move. Some times, I think it was her way of telling me goodbye.

  Our little girl, C, was stillborn in May. My husband was there with me, the entire time, and I know I couldn’t have gotten through those awful hours, and the days that followed, without him.

  For the longest time, all I wanted to do was hide.

  I didn’t want to write.

  I didn’t want to see a baby.

  I just wanted to stay at home with my husband and kids, take comfort in watching our other children, our son and our daughter. They were my comfort.

  I kept asking myself why—why did this happen? Were there any reasons? In June of 2006, God gave me the reason, as I gave birth to another little girl. I got pregnant in September, just a few months after I lost my C. If I hadn’t lost her, then she would have been born in November and the youngest, my precious, precocious, adorable baby bratlet, wouldn’t have been born.

  I lost one little girl but I was given another.

  It doesn’t erase the pain of losing C but having the baby bratlet gave me peace. Gave my husband peace. Gave peace to her siblings, especially her older sister, the bratlet. The bratlet had just turned six when I’d lost C and I know it hurt her as deeply as it hurt her father and me. The baby bratlet gave us all peace.

  When Playing for Keeps started to take this turn on me, I didn’t know exactly how to handle it. My husband and I had to live through what Jake and Dana lived through, and I can tell you honestly, it’s pure hell. But I can’t exactly fight a story. If it’s demanding I tell it a certain way, even if it is one that hurts me to write it, then I either tell the story or let it drive me nuts until I give in.

  Playing for Keeps was originally supposed to be another friends-to-lovers story, but with a bit of a ménage complication thrown in, where both the men love the heroine and the heroine realizes that while she wanted them both, she really loved only one. That was the original idea, but like so many stories, this one took on a life of its own. I wasn’t quite prepared for this twist and while the story was emotionally hard for me to write, it was also one of the easiest. It was almost like I had to write it, like this was another sort of closure for me.

  For those that are wondering why I wrote a book where the hero and heroine encounter such a loss, it’s because my own hero and I had to go through one. We survived it. Our love is stronger for it, and while I’ll miss C every day for the rest of my life, we’re at peace with it.

  If we can do it, I figured it wasn’t fair of me to keep Jake and Dana from their own chance at a happy ever after—and there was one waiting for them. It was a hard road to get there, but the things in life worth having rarely come easy.

  About the Author

  To learn more about Shiloh, please visit www.shilohwalker.com. Send an email to Shiloh at shiloh_@shilohwalker.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Shiloh. groups.yahoo.com/group/SHI_nenigans.

  Look for these titles by Shiloh Walker

  Now Available:

  Always Yours

  Legends: Hunters and Heroes

  Talking with the Dead

  Malachi

  Hunter’s Pride

  The Huntress

  For the Love of Jazz

  Beautiful Girl

  Hunter’s Edge

  Vicious Vixen

  One’s the loneliest number. Two’s company. Three’s a fantasy come true.

  Tequila Truth

  © 2008 Mari Carr

  The rules of Tequila Truth are quite simple. Shots are poured, a question asked, and only absolute truth can be the answer. Kylie Halston has been playing the game with her roommates, Colt and Heath, since their freshmen year of college.

  On his twenty-fifth birthday, Heath poses a question: “What is your ultimate sex fantasy?” While Colt and Heath’s fantasies are too hot for words, it’s Kylie’s sex dream that hits a little too close to home for all of them. Her wish? For a ménage a trois with two men, complete with bondage and a bit of spanking for good measure.

  Colt and Heath are only too willing to make Kylie’s fantasies come true and they make a proposal—one no-holds-barred, sexed-up weekend where nothing is off the menu. The only question is, come Monday, will their platonic relationship survive the passion?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Tequila Truth:

  “What is your ultimate sex fantasy?” Heath filled the shot glasses with Jose Cuervo.

  Colt grinned while Kylie groaned. “Christ. Surely we’ve answered that one before?” She knew they hadn’t, but this particular question made her uncomfortable. Quite frankly, she didn’t think her two testosterone-laden buddies were ready to hear about her fantasies. They believed her desires to be somewhat chaste. Silly men.

  The trio had been following this same tradition since the early days of their friendship. Kylie initiated the celebration, calling it Tequila Truth, explaining that birthdays should be a time of reflection. The concept of the game was simple. The birthday boy—or girl in her case—posed a question and then each member drank a shot of tequila and answered. The only rule was the answer had to be completely honest.

  Unfortunately, her attempt to bring deep introspection to her male roommates fell quite a bit short of the mark. They’d played the game since their freshman year of college and Heath’s questions always revolved around sex.

  “That’s an easy one.” Colt licked the salt off his hand, downed the tequila and sucked the lime. Licking his lips, he settled in for a long story. He was nothing if not an imaginative storyteller. “I’ve got this busty blonde all to myself on a desert island. We’re stranded and she’s completely at my mercy. Begging me to save her and all that crap. She’s wearing nothing but a bikini top and thong, as all of her clothes were ripped off during the shipwreck.”

  Kylie interrupted at this point. “Holy hell, Colt. Why do these imaginary women of yours always have to be blonde and stupid?”

  Heath and Colt laughed, but she merely raised her eyebrow, waiting for his response.

  Colt stopped laughing when she failed to join in. “Oh, that was a serious question? I thought it was one of those rhetorical ones.”

  She grinned despite herself. Colt was the ultimate male chauvinist pig and, for some inexplicable reason, she adored him anyway. He and Heath were the best friends she’d ever had and she didn’t doubt both of them would lay down their lives for her. They’d mistaken her for a male—Kyle, not Kylie—when she wrote expressing a desire to share an apartment with them during their first year of college.

  “So what are you doing to this blonde with questionable intellect?” Heath, as always, was relishing Colt’s detailed descriptions.

  “Well, I don’t know if you know this about me or not, but I’m a man who likes to be in control.”

  She gasped, as if amazed, and laid her hand on her heart. “No, absolutely not. I will never believe that of you.”

  He grinned at her sarcasm and continued. “There’s some rope that’s washed up from the shipwreck and this chick is hot for me. I mean way hot. She starts begging me to take her.”

  At this point in his story Kylie faked a bored yawn, but he continued anyway. “I grab the rope and take her over to a coconut tree. I throw the rope over one of the low-lying branches and tie her hands above her head.”

  “Have you ever seen a coconut tree?” she asked. “The branch
es are miles off the ground.”

  “Shit, it doesn’t matter what kind of tree. Kylie, will you let me finish?”

  “Fine,” she answered shortly, pressing her thighs together. The problem with his fantasy was she knew exactly where it was going and she would be hard-pressed to hide her reaction. The idea of being tied up and left completely at a man’s mercy was certainly pretty high on her list of fantasies as well. Definitely in the top five.

  “So I tie her to the tree with her hands above her head. She’s helpless that way and her whole body is mine to explore and possess. I pull the thong down her legs and throw it into the sea. I tell her on this island, she’ll always be naked, that she will never hide her body from me. I can tell she likes the way I’m talking to her, all stern and powerful and shit, because she starts squirming and whimpering.”

  Kylie struggled to stop reacting in completely the same way.

  “I tell her to open her legs and she does. When I touch her, the woman is dripping wet and hotter than hell. I nearly come in my pants right there because I want her so bad. I reach into the back pocket of my ripped-up shorts and pull out a knife.”

  He paused briefly and looked at her. No doubt he expected her to make some smartass comment about the convenience of having a knife, but she was struggling to catch her breath, overwhelmed by her own arousal.

  Colt, satisfied with her silence, continued talking. “I use the knife to cut off her bikini top and I have to step away because I’m telling you this girl is stacked, with a capital S. She’s got these enormous big brown nipples and they are pointing straight at me.”

  He continued describing the woman’s body in detail until finally she cried, “Enough. I think we get the picture.”

  “I’m not sure I do,” Heath joked and she sent him a nasty look. “Maybe visuals would help. I’ve got some dirty magazines in my closet leftover from high school days. We could find a model who fits your description.”

  “Can I help it if I’m a breast man?” Colt asked the question with a look of injured innocence that fooled her not one bit.

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?” she asked and then lifted her hand in a gesture that said continue.

  “Well, I was going to go in to detail about how I suck the life out of those babies, but I can skip ahead. You get the picture.”

  “Hell yeah, I do. This fantasy is a thing of beauty.” Heath sighed with appreciation apparently enjoying Colt’s answer to his question.

  “So once we’re both good and hot, I take off my shorts and tell her to wrap her legs around my waist. She’s holding on to the rope around her wrists and this woman is strong. She uses her toned legs and arms to fuck the hell out of my cock while she’s hanging there naked from the tree. She’s driving her cunt down on me hard and it’s all I can do to hold on to her hips.”

  She swallowed hard as she imagined the woman riding him. Problem was the blonde wasn’t a blonde, but a redhead who looked suspiciously like her.

  Heath adjusted his pants under the table without bothering to hide his arousal. If there was one thing she had gotten used to in seven years of living with these men, it was that they were always functioning at half-mast. Shit, a strong breeze could arouse her roommates—she never ceased to be amazed by their intense sexuality. Over the years, she’d watched the revolving door of women who passed in and out of their lives and she’d heard enough moaning and banging headboards through the walls to last her a lifetime.

  She consoled herself with the thought that through it all, she was the one constant woman in Colt and Heath’s lives. Through college graduation and first jobs, broken hearts and promotions, she was the steady one, the reliable one, their buddy with boobs.

  “That was hot, Colt, but not as hot as mine.” Heath poured another round of shots.

  “So hit us with your best shot.” Colt picked up his tequila, clearly enjoying his pun and ready to continue with the drinking part of the celebration.

  Heath drank his tequila shot and leaned forward. “In my fantasy, I’ve got this smokin’ hot babe spread across my lap and I’m spanking her full, firm ass. It’s flushed red with my handprint and she’s moving into my smacks while her arousal is dripping down her legs. She’s begging me for more and I’m giving it to her. Then she starts pleading for my hard cock. When I think she’s been punished enough, I push her down to the floor and tell her get on her hands and knees. Then I fuck her from behind, hard and fast. She’s so hot she’s burning the flesh off me, but I don’t care. I keep pounding into her tight cunt, while she’s crying and screaming for more.”

  She sat motionless after his fantasy for several moments before she realized her mouth was gaping and she closed it.

  Colt shook his head in obvious disgust. “That’s the problem with you, Heath. No foreplay. That was the worst description of a fantasy I’ve ever heard. You don’t build the scene or give good descriptions. You just go straight to the climax, so to speak.” When he finished chuckling about his second pun, he pushed her shot glass closer to her. “So what about you, little darlin’?”

  Taking a deep breath, she licked the salt, swallowed the burning alcohol and skipped the lime. Before she could think about it, she heard her unspoken dream falling out of her mouth.

  “In my ultimate sex fantasy, two guys are taking me the way you both described…at the same time.”

  Three people…three depraved plans…one inferno of scandalous pleasures.

  Kabana Heat

  © 2008 Titania Ladley

  Movie star Mitch Wulfrum is tired of deflecting the gay rumors buzzing around him. It’s time for drastic measures to suppress them once and for all—even if it means marriage in name only to the first trophy wife he can get his hands on. And beautiful sugar cane princess Kiona ’Alohi fits right into his plan.

  Kiona can’t believe her luck when she’s presented with Mitch’s proposition. Her overbearing father is dangling her trust fund over her head as an enticement to dump her oh-so-sexy, but oh-so-unsuitable lover, Nakolo. A bogus marriage to Mitch will net her everything she wants—money and love, even if she can only have Kol on the sly.

  What she doesn’t expect are the sexual sparks that fly between her and Mitch, or, when Kol catches them together, the heat that flares between the two men. One scandalously pleasurable encounter after another fans the flames of attraction, until they begin to dream that all three of them could have everything they ever wanted—and more than they ever expected.

  An intricate, fragile web of lies and deceit are all that keep their wanton secrets from erupting into the public eye. Trouble is, one scheming photographer has already clicked the shutter that could ruin all their lives.

  Warning: This m/m/f and m/f/m ménage erotic romance contains the following: creative oral car sex, arousing any-and-all-combination threesome activities, beach explosions, naughty nekkid water romps, love up the wazoo, and lots of intertwined, slick body parts. May cause quaking of the earth, spewing of volcanoes, profuse sweating, tachycardia, and stormy, raging hormones. You have been warned. Proceed with lusty vigor.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Kabana Heat:

  Nakolo leaned slightly back and crossed his arms, acutely aware his forearms and his dick were both mere inches from Mitch. He longed to step closer and become engulfed by that seductive, manly heat again. But first, he wanted the man to face what had just happened between them. “Go ahead, deny it. Deny that you didn’t enjoy me touching you just now in the pool.”

  Kiona gasped, but wisely didn’t say a word in response.

  Nakolo inhaled to calm his rapid heartbeat, fully prepared and determined to get the facts on the table. After all, this was a man with a plan to marry—to steal—the woman Nakolo loved. But Nakolo was through with letting the other men in Kiona’s life slice him right out of the fucking picture. In this case, he’d sensed something that might be the key to some leverage. No way was he keeping it to himself, even if it meant shocking Kiona with the truth about his ow
n secret desires. It was a risky trump card, but it seemed she was determined to marry another man anyway, which didn’t bode well for Nakolo’s future with her.

  Unless the look he’d seen in her eyes when she’d spied Nakolo’s hand down Mitch’s pants, turned out to be what he suspected…

  “What…what are you talking about?” Kiona gripped the edge of the table and pulled herself to an erect sitting position. Her shocked gaze swung from man to man.

  But was that also lust she attempted to conceal in her expression? Gods of Hawaii, please let it be true.

  There was only one way to find out. His usual frankness. “I think you already know. You saw me fondling him in the water. And whether he’s prepared to admit it or not, we both enjoyed it. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ki?”

  “Jesus.” Mitch’s face went pale. He groaned and dropped his head back, staring up at the night sky. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “Y-you’re telling me you’re…” She let out a long, slow breath, her sparkling eyes latched onto Nakolo’s. “You’re gay?”

  “Bi-curious might be the best way to put it, at least for now. Until it can be…explored more.” Nakolo shrugged mentally. What difference did the truth make now? She was marrying another man. But God, it felt good to finally admit it out loud!

  She pressed a trembling hand to her heart. He heard her swallow. “Are you serious?”

  “As shit.”

  “Speaking of shit, I think I’ve had enough for one night.” Mitch spun on his heel to leave.

  Kiona scrambled up, her seat scraping on concrete, and raced toward him. She clasped both hands around his arm and tugged, managing to halt his flight. “Please. Please don’t go. W-we have things yet to discuss. Apparently, a lot more than I ever dreamed of.”