by Sierra Dean
“Well, awhile back I pointed out Georgia and Florida aren’t all too far apart.”
“You did.”
“So close, in fact, I’m told they share a border.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do. Liv knows all about the states.”
“She does.”
“And, funny thing, I have to spend about six weeks every year in Florida already.”
“You do.” She turned in his arms to get a better look at his face as he spoke.
“And I asked my realtor—”
“You have a realtor?” Her pulse was pounding so hard she could barely hear herself speak over the sound of it in her ears.
“Sure. And he says my place in Georgia would make a really nice rental property.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning when I buy a condo in Florida to live closer to you guys in the off-season, my place in Georgia will still be making me money.”
Alice was speechless. Of course they’d hinted at the idea of her and Liv maybe living closer to him, or him considering a change of scenery, but nothing had been set in stone. She’d been worried his lack of solid ideas on the topic meant his mind wasn’t totally set. Now she was so excited she worried she might throw up on him.
“What do you think?” he asked, when her silence pushed into awkward territory.
“I think that is an awful lot of thinking for you.”
“I know. I’m exhausted.”
“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have far to go to get home.”
Alex grinned and kissed her, his lips salty from the ocean air. “I’m already there.”
About the Author
Sierra Dean is a reformed historian. She was born and raised in the Canadian prairies and is allowed annual exit visas in order to continue her quest of steadily conquering the world one city at a time. Making the best of the cold Canadian winters, Sierra indulges in her less global interests: drinking too much tea and writing urban fantasy.
Ever since she was a young girl she has loved the idea of the supernatural coexisting with the mundane. As an adult, however, the idea evolved from the notion of fairies in flower beds, to imagining that the rugged-looking guy at the garage might secretly be a werewolf. She has used her overactive imagination to create her own version of the world, where vampire, werewolves, fairies, gods and monsters all walk among us, and she’ll continue to travel as much as possible until she finds it for real.
Sierra can be reached all over the place, as she’s a little addicted to social networking. Find her on:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/sierradeanbooks
Website: www.sierradean.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Twitter: @sierradean
Look for these titles by Sierra Dean
Now Available:
Chasing Kings
Secret McQueen
Something Secret This Way Comes
The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters
A Bloody Good Secret
Secret Santa
Deep Dark Secret
Keeping Secret
Grave Secret
Secret Unleashed
Boys of Summer
Pitch Perfect
Coming Soon:
Secret McQueen
Cold Hard Secret
A Secret to Die For
A porn star and a bookseller walk into the same BDSM hotel room suite…
Chasing Kings
© 2013 Sierra Dean
Samantha Hart wishes things would stop happening in Vegas when a case of mistaken identity lands her in the Hard Rock’s racy Provocateur suite—an S&M wet dream that’s occupied by an honest-to-God porn star. Ethan Silver’s reputation should put her off, but his naughty charm and wicked-sweet smile have her agreeing to a night on the town. Then wishing for a night in, as well.
Ethan knew the instant he stepped through the door that this wasn’t the Samantha Hart he was almost desperate to see. Yet he can’t help it. He wants to ease the blushing bookseller out of her shell and show her a good time…and not just in the bedroom.
As a hot night on the Strip turns into a hotter night at the hotel, Ethan begins to prove there’s a good guy under his bad-boy façade. There’s a loan shark hot on his tail, though, and only Sam can help keep his movie-star face intact. But telling her the truth could cost him something he needs more than money. Her love.
Warning: Contains a bad boy porn star with all the right moves, a good girl who wants to go bad, and one wild week in Vegas.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Chasing Kings:
Ethan was leaning against one of the big white railings on the bridge, peering over the edge. When Sam came up next to him, she followed his gaze to the water below. The faux canal had the blue-green water she’d only seen in pictures of Fiji or Lake Tahoe, and a half-dozen gondolas were lined up, their striped poles bobbing with the swaying influence of the wind.
The sole working gondolier pushed a smiling couple through the canal and under the bridge she and Ethan were standing on.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?”
She didn’t want to admit it, especially not so soon, but he was right. Seeing an Italian gondolier sweep someone away on a romantic boat ride right in the middle of a kitschy tourist city was pretty nifty. Maybe she hadn’t given Vegas a fair shake.
“Okay. You got me, this is neat. But this is one thing. I’d hardly call it an amazing spectacle or anything.”
“You say that now, Ms. Grinch, but the night is young and we have the whole Strip waiting for us. I guarantee you by the time we’re through you’re going to be madly in love with this city. And hopefully you won’t still think your vacation was wasted in coming here.”
“Want to make a bet?”
“A bet?”
“Yeah, in the spirit of the whole thing, this being Vegas and all.”
“What are the terms?”
“If we get back to the hotel and I can honestly say I didn’t have fun, you have to use all your big porn earnings to upgrade me to a nicer room.”
Ethan snorted and rolled his eyes. “I think you overestimate how much money we make, but I’m pretty sure I can swing an upgrade.”
“All right.” Sam smiled in spite of herself. She’d wanted to keep her poker face in check so he wouldn’t realize she was already enjoying herself, but the grin still managed to slip out. Stupid traitorous face.
“Don’t you want to know what I want if I win?” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels, smirking like a brazen schoolboy.
“The look you’re giving me right now makes me think I know what you’re going to say.” Her tummy churned, nerves causing a stormy sea to bubble and swirl inside her.
“Don’t think the worst. You made me promise no sex, remember? Not until you say the word.”
“All right. What do you want if you win, then?”
“A kiss.” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across his face, highlighting his dimples and making him seem both innocent and roguish all at the same time.
Oh boy, was she in trouble.
“Fine. One kiss. But I’m going to make you work for it.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Ethan extended his hand to her, and she took it without hesitating.
He led her across the street towards the mammoth structure of the Mirage Hotel. Sam had watched plenty of representations of Vegas in movies and on countless episodes of CSI, but nothing she’d seen had prepared her for the scale of the place. Everything was huge, and just walking through the crowds and staring up at the hotels made her feel insignificant. She hadn’t felt that way since her first memories of walking through the redwoods back in Oregon. Somehow Vegas managed to capture the same sensation, even more than being in a real large city could. Maybe it had something to do with being able to see the Eiffel Tower, the New York City skyline and a scaled-down Sphinx all in one stretch of road.
It was too much stuff for her poor brain to process.
Ethan guided her past the Mirage and Caesars Palace—a structure so gargantuan Sam was sure the whole population of her home town could fit in it and still have room for ten thousand extra guests—and he didn’t stop walking until they reached an alcove in front of the Bellagio, with a view of the half-scale Eiffel Tower across from them.
“Do you think taking me to Paris is all it will take to dazzle me?” she teased.
“Paris is over there.” Ethan pointed to a blue neon hot air balloon with the French city’s name scrawled over it in shimmering yellow lights. “What I’m showing you is there.” He indicated a wide span of black water, which seemed utterly unimpressive compared to the edifices surrounding it.
“You figure that’s kissworthy? You must be used to some easily astonished girls.”
“As true as that might be, hold your horses for a second.” He checked his watch then angled her towards the water with two firm hands on her waist. He didn’t pull away immediately, his fingers trailing up her spine and stopping on her shoulders, both thumbs kneading the tense point at the base of her neck. “Trust me.”
“Said the porn star.”
Ethan leaned in, his lips so close to her ear she could feel the heat from his mouth when he whispered, “I’m going to make you eat those words. And you’re going to like it.”
Sam shuddered involuntarily, and liquid heat speared her in the most intimate place, making a wave of goose bumps prickle up her arm hairs.
The hard-rock song blaring over the Bellagio speakers grew quiet, and the faint strains of a classical symphony replaced them. Considering how everything she’d heard up to that point had been the most obnoxious, overpowering music available, the classical tune was a jarring—but welcome—change of pace.
The music swelled up, and with it a row of small fountains emerged from the water, lit bright white so it appeared as if the water itself was glowing. Sam stood rapt as the spouts began to bend and arc in time with the music, the water starting low then suddenly shooting up into the air sixty feet, blotting out the view of Paris behind them. A circle in the center of the display rose higher than everything around it, and the mist left behind was illuminated by the lights of the Strip, glowing like fairy dust as it fell to the lake’s surface.
The display continued for five minutes, with the fountains moving with the music, bowing and dipping like a living thing. With one final, triumphant upwards explosion the fountains vanished, leaving the water smooth and calm while the last curtain of mist fell back to the surface. The music died out, and Sam was left only with the hammering sensation inside her chest.
Tourists around them started to move away, leaving the balcony almost clear and the gleaming structure of the Eiffel Tower behind them. The hard rock kicked in again with a whining guitar solo, making Sam’s ears pound in time with her heart.
“Wow,” she said, when she could form words.
“Good wow?”
“Very good wow.”
Ethan smiled, his hand going to her waist as she turned away from the view of the fountain. “Would you say you were…dazzled?”
“I want to lie, because you’re smirking at me like you’ve won the Super Bowl, but I can’t. That was amazing. Consider me thoroughly dazzled.”
“Oh, you’re not thoroughly dazzled. Not yet.” His hand tightened on her waist, tugging her closer, and she didn’t feel the urge to resist him. Instead she yielded to his embrace, going willingly as he pulled her body against his.
He was taller than her, which was a delight in and of itself since she was five-foot-nine and often had trouble meeting men who weren’t put off by her stature. Ethan was barely six feet tall, but it was enough of a difference he had to bend his neck to kiss her. The gesture made her feel small and feminine.
His free hand cupped the back of her neck, and his fingers were warm in the desert night air. She trembled when his lips met hers, having difficulty remembering the last time a kiss had made her feel like a nervous schoolgirl.
Ethan didn’t kiss like a porn star, at least not how she’d decided he would based on the movie she’d seen. His lips were soft and gentle, the barest brush against her mouth, and he pecked her once, then lingered longer the second time.
When it seemed as if he might pull away, leaving her wanting, Sam reached out and held his face between her nerve-dampened palms, keeping him locked in place. Her tongue grazed his lower lip, and in its wake she nipped him lightly, then hesitated, afraid he might be spooked by her forwardness.
She felt his smile, though she couldn’t see it, and he whispered, “I knew there was a bad girl in there.”
He pushed his body firmly into hers, his grip on her neck tightening as he deepened the kiss from his end. His tongue delved into her mouth, teasing hers with a wicked curl and sending sparks of pleasure rioting through her body. He tilted his head for a better angle, forcing her mouth wider, and she drank in his unique flavor as her tongue brushed his. Ethan Silver tasted like pure lust—spicy and dangerous—and she couldn’t get enough.
He pulled away after a minute, and Sam made a small noise of protest. Ethan kissed the tip of her nose, his cheeks flushed, his smile sweet.
“Now you’re properly dazzled.”
And damn if the cheeky devil wasn’t right.
Sometimes it takes a couple of tries before you get love right.
Best of Three
© 2013 Erin Nicholas
Counting on Love, Book 3
Emma Dixon is known for getting in over her head—and having a great time doing it. She’s aware her shenanigans rub Nate Sullivan the wrong way, but getting a rise out of the cocky surgeon is one of her favorite pastimes. Truth be told, exasperated looks aren’t the only things she wants from the guy.
Nate has no intention of taking another trip down the falling-in-love road. Women are carefully compartmentalized—to his bedroom. Women who don’t mind his take-charge tendencies. Women very different from sassy, sexy, independent Emma.
But his usual strategy of arguing with Emma to keep from kissing her goes out the window when his son falls in love with her friend’s daughter. Emma sees a normal teenage romance. Nate sees his plans for the boy’s future ruined.
As Nate tries to derail the relationship, Emma runs interference, putting herself directly in the path of the chemistry that grows stronger every time they butt heads. And that could very well lead to the best surprise of all.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Best of Three:
He turned her so her belly was against the railing and caged her in by placing his hands on the railing on either side of her. “Look for Michael and Shannon.”
They stood like that, not moving, scanning the crowd for a few minutes. Eventually, she shifted off of her right leg, leaning onto her left.
He resisted the urge to put his hand on her hip, to rub it or…something. “You’re that sore?”
“Stiff.”
He barely heard her over the music and crowd. He put his mouth close to her ear. “What were you doing this morning that hurt it?”
She turned her face so her mouth was closer to his. “Trying some advanced yoga poses.”
“You need to be careful not to push too fast.” He had no problem with yoga. Emma’s physical condition prior to the accident and surgery had given her the potential for full recovery. But some things simply took time.
“I’d be happy to show you what I was trying and you can tell me if it’s too much.”
There was something in her voice, even with the music thumping and the crowd noise rumbling around them that made his body react. He was sure Emma demonstrating any yoga poses would be too much—of something.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Chicken.”
Very likely.
They didn’t try to talk for a couple of minutes. Then he felt compelled to say, “It’s normal, you know. To still be stiff and sore at times. And you
’re trying high level stuff.” It was normal. And it was good for him to remember that too. He hadn’t failed her. He’d put her back together and had done a hell of a job. She was healing. She was getting better. She was going to be fine.
He saw dozens of people every week in her same—and worse—condition. Their lingering aches and pains never bothered him.
But it bugged the hell out of him to think of Emma hurting.
“I know that, Nate.” She sounded frustrated. “That doesn’t make it not hurt. You say that to me all the time, and I’ll bet you say it fifty times a day to other people. And then you don’t see us for six weeks and by then it is better and you feel all great about yourself and what you did. But living with it day to day is different. So…shut up, okay?”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She was right, of course. So he did shut up.
They stood facing the stage and the floor below them. He was aware of every inch of her. Especially when she shifted again, this time to lean back against him slightly. He knew she might not even be aware of it. She was seeking a position that would take weight off her sore leg and leaning against a support would help with that. But the position, thanks to her heels, put her butt right against his fly.
He held his breath and tried to ignore it, making his mind focus on searching the crowd for his son.
Then she wiggled.
Whether she meant to or not, he couldn’t handle that. He put his hands on her hips to stop her squirming and moved her an inch forward. That was all he needed. An inch of space between their bodies.
He felt the tension in her body immediately and assumed that meant she either hadn’t intended the position to be what it was, or his hands made her stiffen up. Which could be good or bad.
After several seconds, he started to relax. But right when he thought maybe he was safe and again began his search for his son, Emma turned.
His hands skimmed over her body as she spun, and when she faced him, he wasn’t inclined to remove them.
“You want to make both of us feel better?” she asked.
He could hear her, but he didn’t want to miss anything. He put his hand to the back of her head, holding her still, and leaned in. “Tell me.”