Vanessa Unveiled

by Jodi Redford

  Cooper’s cheeks paled as he obviously mulled over the huge hissy management would throw regarding those demands. After an awkward hesitation where he avoided Rand’s and Braeden’s threatening looks, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thanks but no thanks.” She transferred her narrow-eyed stare to Braeden and Rand. “As for you both. I see one of two choices here. Either I yell at you guys for not believing me when I said I was done with bounty hunting. Or you can take me inside and eat wedding cake—off my breasts.”

  Sliding Cooper an apologetic glance, her mates rushed her up the steps. Once inside the cottage, they didn’t immediately pounce on her. At least not in the way she was hoping for. But she could see from the look in Rand’s eyes that he wasn’t yet ready to let the issue with her now-defunct career drop.

  His gaze worried, Rand cupped her cheek. “Nessie, Brae and I don’t want you to give up what you love to do because of us. As much as we hate the idea of you being away from us for even a day, we want you to be happy.”

  Her irritation instantly evaporated and she could feel her eyes going misty again. “How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at you after you say something sweet like that?”

  Braeden leaned down and kissed her before brushing away one of the tears stubbornly clinging to her lashes. “You’re everything to us, baby. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  After a lifetime of being used by others for her abilities, their unconditional love was like a balm to her battered soul. “I don’t need a damn job to make me happy, or give me a false sense of identity anymore. I know who I am.” She laced her fingers with theirs. “I’m a woman who is truly loved.”

  “Yes, sweetest. You are.”

  Braeden echoed the sentiment with a soft kiss on her brow. She ran her fingertips along his smoothly shaved jaw before smiling impishly. “Besides, chasing veil jumpers down hillsides can’t be good for a pregnant woman.”

  It took exactly twenty seconds for her statement to register with Rand and Braeden. Once it did, they both gaped at her, speechless.

  “I was going to wait and tell you after I had my doc back home verify the home pregnancy test, but I—”

  “You’re going to have a baby?” Rand broke in, his expression suitably stunned. “Our baby?”

  Braeden shook his head, equally shocked. “But…how? Our DNA…”

  “Apparently isn’t so incompatible after all.” Her chuckle petered off when she realized Rand and Braeden weren’t exactly whooping with joy. “Y-you guys are okay with it, right? I mean, I know the last thing you expected was a—”

  Rand tugged her forward, his mouth stopping her flow of words. His hands cradling her head, he inched away enough to make room for Braeden to take his turn kissing away her doubts. By the time they were finished, she was breathless and dizzy. “So I take it you’re okay with becoming dads?”

  “We’re going to be dads. Holy shit. Speaking of which…” His mouth stretching into a wide grin, Braeden clamped a hand on Rand’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see you change dirty diapers.”

  “Same goes for me, smartass. Plus we’ll see how long it takes you to toss your cookies the first time the baby spits up on you.”

  Braeden snorted. “You know better than anyone that I have zero gag reflex.”

  Smiling like a fool, Vanessa leaned against the kitchen counter. Three months ago, the idea of poopy diapers, baby spit up and pookas with amazing gag reflexes making her insanely happy would have been crazy. Now she couldn’t imagine her life any other way. Rand and Braeden stopped teasing each other and pulled her toward the bedroom.

  She cocked her eyebrows. “Uh, guys? I think you’re forgetting something.” They both looked at her expectantly and she nodded toward the cake resting on the granite countertop.

  Rand chuckled devilishly. “Ah yes. Lovemaking is so much better with buttercream frosting.”

  “Truer words have never been spoken.”

  She batted her eyelashes. “Sex and dessert. You guys really are my perfect soul mates.”

  Giving a sexy growl, Braeden nibbled her neck before carrying her into the bedroom and tossing her onto the bed. She landed with a bounce, her laugh trailing off as Rand settled the cake on the dresser and stripped out of his tux. Her gaze fell on the newest addition to his collection of tattoos—a unique combination of his and Braeden’s clan symbols interwoven with her name. The first time she saw the beautiful design, tangible proof of the family she’d never dared to believe in, she’d cried. As it was, she could feel her eyes getting suspiciously prickly again.

  Apparently intuiting that she was five seconds away from bawling and ruining the mood, Braeden distracted her with his own naughty little strip tease. His grin impish, he scooped up a glob of frosting and painted a smiley face on his cock.

  She couldn’t resist giggling. “He almost looks as blissfully happy as I am.” And with that declaration made, she tugged Rand and Braeden down next to her and proceeded to indulge in two servings of pooka. With a side dish of wedding cake.

  About the Author

  At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven’t improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat.

  She has won numerous contests, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star.

  When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality television shows.

  Currently residing in Michigan with her husband and overgrown lapdog, she is a member of RWA national and Greater Detroit Romance Writers of America.

  She loves to hear from readers. You can email her at jodiredford@jodiredford.com and visit her online at www.jodiredford.com.

  Look for these titles by Jodi Redford

  Now Available:

  Taking Liberty

  Light My Fire

  Thieves of Aurion

  Lover Enslaved

  That Old Black Magic

  That Voodoo You Do

  Coming Soon:

  That Old Black Magic

  The Seven Year Witch

  Something dead this way comes…

  That Voodoo You Do

  © 2010 Jodi Redford

  That Old Black Magic, Book 1

  For ten long years Griffin Trudeau has managed to keep his paws off Jemma Finnegan, best friend and leading star of his kinkiest fantasies. As her appointed cat familiar, indulging those fantasies with the delectable witch is strictly forbidden. But when Jemma shows up at his door with seduction in mind, control goes right out the window.

  Too late he realizes making love to Jemma is the trigger that launches a zombie apocalypse.

  Jemma’s been dealt a double whammy: she’s just discovered she’s a witch. And Griff has been hiding whiskers and a tail. Oh, and if her life wasn’t crazy enough, a dead voodoo queen needs her blood to raise a legion of zombies.

  There’s one plan that might work to increase Jemma’s powers so she can put an end to the looming holocaust. A sexy threesome with Griff and Logan Scott, a werewolf familiar with a history of rubbing Griff’s fur the wrong way. A cat and a wolf playing nice, much less sharing? It’ll take a miracle.

  Warning: A witch, tiger and wolf doing naughty things. A dead voodoo queen doing evil things. And zombies doing zombie things. Get your shovels ready.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for That Voodoo You Do:

  “So what’s going on in there?”

  Logan propped his elbow against the frame, giving her a close-up view of his barbed-wire tat. Now that she thought about it, the symbolism seemed appropriate. Tangling with the lusty werewolf was bound to leave a few scratches. “Just Clarissa taking care of some coven business. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over, darlin’.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That managed to be both evasive and sexist.”
>
  “Damn, and here I wasn’t even tryin’.” He chuckled. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she reached around him for the doorknob. He scooted sideways, forcing her hand to smack into his abdomen instead. His bare, firm-as-marble abdomen. Her fingertips brushed the warm hollow of skin resting just above the low rise of his button fly. Sucking in a sharp breath, she yanked her arm away and shuffled back several steps.

  Logan’s irises shimmered with amusement and heat. “Don’t stop now. Things were just getting interesting.”

  “I, uh, just have to go and…um…yeah.” She spun and stumbled in the direction of the kitchen before she did something really stupid, like follow the silky trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of Logan’s jeans. With her tongue. That thought sent her tripping through the entry of the kitchen. She jerked to a halt when she spotted Griff in front of the stove, stirring the contents of a large stockpot. He was notably shirtless too, which put the mouthwatering expanse of his back on dazzling display. She stared at the muscles shifting beneath all that golden, velvety skin, her suspicions bubbling. It was too damn weird and convenient that both Logan and Griff were standing around half naked all of a sudden. Unless some devious shirt monster was making its rounds in the neighborhood, there was definitely something afoot.

  And where was everyone else, anyway? She craned her neck, scoping the dining alcove for signs of Ms. Peach or Gloria.

  “Hey, baby. You’re just in time for a taste test.”

  She whipped her head around at Griff’s zippy tone. Now she knew something was up. Griff didn’t do chipper, particularly not thirty minutes after snarling at her like a pissed-off Tony the Tiger. “What the hell is going on?”

  Griff tried for a guileless look. Oh yeah, he didn’t do innocent well either. “I’m getting lunch ready.”

  “Without your shirt on?”

  “It’s hot in here.”

  Well…that was certainly true. Even without Griff’s muscle-icious torso making her girl parts all warm and tingly, there was no denying the temperature in the kitchen hovered between muggy and melt-your-panties-off miserable.

  Griff dug a spoon out of the drawer and ladled some of the sauce he’d been stirring. “Tell me if this needs anything.”

  Her intuition warning her to be on the lookout for any sneakiness, she hesitantly crossed to the industrial-sized, stainless-steel stove. She tried to wrestle the spoon from Griff, but he insisted on feeding her the concoction himself. Almost from the instant the tapestry of flavors met her tongue, a seductive ripple of heat unfurled inside her, tightening her nipples beneath the sundress’s snug, smocked bodice. Griff’s thumb traced the outline of her lower lip. Holding her gaze, he lifted his finger and slowly licked it clean. If the humidity didn’t melt the crotch of her panties, Griff demonstrating his perfect oral skills sure as hell would.

  “What do you think? A pinch more salt and pepper?”

  She stared into Griff’s dark-as-sin pupils. Clearly he was waiting for her to answer, but damn if she could concentrate on anything beyond the flush of arousal making her dizzy with hunger. Only it wasn’t food she was lusting for at the moment. Knees wobbling, she clutched the counter. “W—what’s in that sauce?”

  “Butter, egg, milk. The usual Béchamel ingredients.”

  Sure, and a liberal dash of horny goat weed and Viagra thrown in for good measure. She had no idea why Griff was trying to get her juiced up for sex. He knew damn well that all he had to do was breathe and she’d gladly tackle him to the floor and ride him until they were both properly yippee-ki-yayed out. Which left only one possibility.

  He was about to spring some hellaciously scary sexual request on her. If a midget and a monkey strolled in right now, she was so out of th—

  “Looks like the party is revving into high gear.” Logan ambled into the kitchen, his expression wicked and wolfish.

  Her focus shifted between the two gorgeous specimens of male flesh on decadent display, and the puzzle pieces began locking together. Oh, sweet Jesus. Her heart frantically tap dancing, she snatched the embroidered dishtowel resting on the counter and blotted her perspiring forehead. Either the heat and the sauce were getting to her, or Griff and Logan. More than likely, all four.

  She shot Griff an accusing glare. “Now I get it. You think the three of us having sex will fix everything, and I won’t have to worry about Nettie luring me to the dark side. Did it even occur to you to give me a say in this decision?”

  Griff thunked the spoon on the stovetop before giving her his full attention. “Christ, do you honestly think you wouldn’t get a say? Damn it, you know I’d never force you into doing anything you don’t want.”

  She plunked one hand on her hip and waved the other hand at the stockpot. “But you weren’t averse to a little cheating, courtesy of your pasta à la sex sauce.”

  “I just wanted you to feel more comfortable. Relaxed.”

  “Turned on,” she added, arching a brow.

  A guilty flush spread from Griff’s jaw to his cheeks. Chuffing a laugh, Logan joined them at the stove. “Catman had good intentions, sugar. The potion in the sauce is designed to loosen inhibitions and supersensitize erogenous zones you didn’t even know you had.” He flicked a glance in Griff’s direction. “Maybe you better give her a demonstration.”

  She snorted. “Trust me, he already did.”

  Logan’s mouth curled in wicked devilment. “You only got a small taste of the potion’s capabilities. To truly appreciate its gift to the fullest, you need to ingest it in a more…intimate manner.” Before she knew what he was up to, Logan unlaced the ties securing the sundress to her shoulders and pushed the bodice down, exposing her breasts. Gasping, she shot him a startled look. He awarded her a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna enjoy this.”

  Something warm and sticky stroked her nipples. She jumped at the unexpected sensation, her gaze shooting to Griff’s sauce-coated fingers as they painted her areolas with the creamy substance. He lowered his head and followed the path of his fingers with his tongue, sparking a new conflagration of fire inside her. She shivered and Griff peered up at her, his eyes blazing. Curving an arm around her waist, he stood and claimed her mouth in a hot, devouring kiss. He tasted of Béchamel and exotic spice. Of magic and sex. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, ravenous for more. Their tongues rasped in a mating dance and she wiggled against him, her nipples aching for the sumptuous devotion of Griff’s mouth.

  Logan’s knuckles skated the length of her spine. “Noticing the effects yet?” She mewled a response and he chuckled. “Excellent.” He worked the dress over her hips and the garment floated to her feet. His feather-light touch skimmed above the elastic of her bikini, teasing the dimples near her tailbone. She arched against Logan’s hand, her knees turning to jelly when he palmed her ass and gave it a good squeeze. He snuggled close behind her, so close she easily detected the hard ridge of his erection suggestively rubbing into her. “I’ve got something for ya, darlin’.”

  Oh yeah. No mistaking that.

  Griff’s mouth trailed to the crook of her neck, and something soft and silky caressed her cheek. She reached for the fabric, but Logan swept it behind her head.

  “Not yet. First I want something in return.”

  She licked her lips, a hot liquid rush of excitement pulsing low in her belly. “What?”

  “A taste.” Logan’s teeth scraped her earlobe, making her breath stutter. He moved lower and tongued the pulse point beneath her ear. “Same as you gave Catman.”

  A whimper escaped her and Logan tilted her head, his fingers tunneling in her hair as his lips glided along hers. Sucking her tongue into his mouth, he gave her a sneak peek at the devastation he could wreak on her body. If she let him. The question was, would she?

  The higher the stakes, the hotter the game.

  Never Have I Ever

  © 2010 Alisha Rai

  Reynolds Pack, Book 1

  Ana Hudson enjoys her
picture-perfect marriage to the love of her life. Everything is pleasant, easy—and satisfying. Then an anonymous e-mail arrives filled with lurid pictures of Taylor’s youthful exploits, leaving her wondering if she really knows him at all. More importantly…does she know herself?

  Driven to uncover the truth and push the limits of their sexual boundaries, she convinces Taylor to arrange a weekend getaway to a friend’s luxury cottage in the mountains. It’s the perfect place to get her husband to spill his secrets—and show him there’s a wealth of kinky fantasies hiding inside his good girl.

  Taylor’s spent years suppressing his animalistic side, hiding the not-completely-human DNA that once drove him wild. Except now his once quiet, reserved Ana has launched a campaign to destroy every inch of his hard-won control.

  With the snowy wilderness containing his darkest memories surrounding them, and his old pack-mate dropping in to give them a few pointers, the sexual battle of wills gets fierce.

  Let the games begin.

  Warning: Contains a brooding, dirty-minded, not-quite-human hero, a sweet not-quite-good-girl heroine, a howling-hawt car ride up a mountain, a chase through the snow followed by an erotic adventure with sports equipment, oral sex, anal sex, and a M/F/M ménage scene that will leave you panting.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Never Have I Ever:

  Taylor studied the shape of Ana’s ass in the bright pink snowsuit she wore. It was a sad, sad day when the sight of the woman in a shapeless outfit drove him a little mad.

  For the umpteenth time he cursed Eli’s presence. His best friend had the absolute worst timing. Forget the fact that he’d been put outside like a naughty pup, when he could be snuggling with his wife on a wide leather sofa. With the other man here, he couldn’t even try to communicate with her about their recent escapades…not that he had the slightest inkling of how to broach that subject.