Pleasure With Purpose

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Pleasure with Purpose

  By

  LISA RENEE JONES

  Published by Lisa Renee Jones

  Copyright 2011 Lisa Renee Jones

  Includes new EXCLUSIVE EXCERPTS:

  HOT VAMPIRE KISS

  And

  THE STORM THAT IS STERLING

  Cover by LFD Designs

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the supplier and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at lisarenjones@aol.com.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Excerpt from Hot Vampire Kiss

  Coming Soon

  “STERLINGISMS”

  Romantic Times – Jones scorches the pages!

  Booklist--Jones’ suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.

  Praise for Hot Vampire Kiss:

  Wendy - My Book Addiction and More

  HOT VAMPIRE KISS is book 1 on Lisa Renee Jones' new series, the Vampire Wardens. Fans of paranormal or vampires will adore this great new voice in the genre.

  Kelly - Books - N - Kisses

  If you are looking for a really good, fast, hot short read. I would encourage you to go grab a copy of Hot Vampire Kiss by Lisa Renee Jones.

  Lady Raven Romance Novel Junkies

  I was so excited that we got to meet Aiden and Troy, they are just a bundle of vampire hotness.

  Larena, Red Roses for Authors

  Praise for Hot Vampire seduction:

  On Legend of Michael:

  “Lisa Renee Jones has created a fascinating, exciting, and wonderfully romantic read in The Legend of Michael. Michael is to die for!”

  —Pamela Palmer, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of RAPTURE UNTAMED, a Feral Warriors novel

  “A thrill ride of non-stop action, intricate suspense and scorching love scenes!”

  —Stephanie Tyler, New York Times bestselling author of HOLD ON TIGHT

  “Sexy, edgy, pulse-pounding adventure. The Legend of Michael will keep you reading all night!”

  —Susan Grant, New York Times bestselling author of THE LAST WARRIOR

  “Grabs hold of you from page one and never lets go. Packed with action, suspense and sizzling sexuality, The Legend of Michael is a book not to be missed!”

  —Rhyannon Byrd, National bestselling author of TOUCH OF SEDUCTION

  “Hot enough to singe your fingers.”

  —Cynthia Eden, National bestselling author of DEADLY FEAR

  “Edgy, dark and creative. A raw new world filled with action, danger and plenty of sizzle.”

  —Eve Silver, National bestselling author of SINS OF THE FLESH

  “Utterly absorbing, deliciously edgy, and instantly addictive. If you haven’t added Jones to your must-read list, you need to.”

  —Donna Grant, Bestselling author of DANGEROUS HIGHLANDER

  “A breathlessly-paced ride through twisting secrets, fractured loyalties, and deadly espionage.”

  —Sylvia Day, National bestselling author of THE STRANGER I MARRIED

  Chapter One

  “You’ve never had an orgasm!”

  The exclamation from her best friend had Heather Brown ready to climb under a rock, or rather the brown leather couch she sat on. “Will you please keep your voice down,” she pleaded, nervously peeking over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door directly behind her. Good grief, she was going to regret allowing that confession to spurt from her lips.

  “He’s asleep,” Brenda Carrington declared about her brother Brad, and none too softly either. “It’s Sunday morning. The only time he allows himself to rest.”

  “He won’t be if you keep talking so loudly.”

  “After bumming his spare bedroom for six months, I can assure you he’s deadwood this morning. The man might foot the price tag to live in downtown Dallas just to be near his law practice, but Sunday is where he draws the line on work.”

  Heather inhaled, thinking of Brad, in bed, only a few feet away. Naked. He liked to sleep naked. She knew this because she’d accidental walked in on him when she was sixteen, on one of the many weekends she’d spent at the Carrington’s home while her mom worked a second job. He’d been a man, seven years older than her, and she’d been embarrassed and infatuated. And now, ten years later, she still remembered that moment, still fantasized about the dark hair sprinkled over taut muscle, the pure perfection of his long, masculine body. Dang it, she hated that she still remembered. Heather shook herself for the silly schoolgirl crush on Brad that had long outlived its welcome. The man had never paid her boney knees and flat chest any mind back then, preferring bosomy blondes, who he’d gone through as if they were candy corn meant for seasonal pleasure. Time, and a few more inches on her chest, hadn’t changed that either.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never had an orgasm,” Brenda said, pulling Heather back into the present.

  Heather pursed her lips, indignation in her tone. “Of course I’ve had an orgasm. Just not a manmade one.”

  “That’s the only kind that counts, honey.”

  “Yeah well,” Heather admitted reluctantly, “don’t knock a good electric rabbit. They don’t judge you.” The joke barely made it from mouth, before her chest tightened, another confession unexpectedly bursting from her lips. “I’m beginning to think something’s wrong with me in that area. The men I date want to, um, shall we say, please me. I just can’t seem to…”

  “Find satisfaction?”

  “Exactly,” Heather sighed. There was no reason to fight the truth, considering how "out there" she was already.

  “Good grief, woman. We have to fix this and fast. You’re going to lose your twenties to battery-operated pleasure if you don’t get with it. And that is just too, too sad.”

  “Thank you for that positive feedback,” Heather said grumpily. “And in my defense, a few bad attempts at satisfaction that turned horribly wrong can make a girl pretty uptight.”

  Brenda snorted. “Those stuffed shirts you date would make any girl feel uptight.”

  “I think you just insulted me.”

  “No. Just your choice in men.”

  “What’s wrong with my choices?” Heather demanded. “I date respectable men. Joseph was an attorney with a large firm. And Robert was a CPA.”

  “Who fit the geeky accountant persona to perfection,” she said. “A little more suave hotness might just get you moaning in all the right ways.”

  Heather pressed her hand to her face. “How did I get into this conversation?” She dropped her hand back to her leg. “Will you stop already? Just forget I ever said the word ‘orgasm.’”

  “You know what your problem is?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” Heather encouraged with a grimace, though Brenda didn’t ever need any encouragement to share her opinions.

  “You’re inhibited. You’re inhibited and I know why.” Brenda jumped to her feet, grabbed Heather’s hand and pulled her to her feet as well. “Come with me.”<
br />
  “Where?” Heather demanded suspiciously, digging in her heels. As a chef for a popular Dallas restaurant, Brenda was always cooking up trouble, both in and out of the kitchen.

  “Rome,” she said sarcastically. “Seriously, woman. It’s not like I’m taking you to Brad’s bed or something.” Heather’s jaw dropped at the too-close-to-home comment, at the same moment that Brenda tugged her forward. They stopped in the entryway hall, in front of the hallway mirror, so that they stood side by side.

  “Now tell me what you see,” Brenda ordered.

  Heather surveyed Brenda--her friend’s pale skin, perfect even without makeup, her faded jeans and a tee, somehow as perfect as the fiery mass of red curly hair.

  “Don’t look at me,” Brenda chided. “Look at you.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Heather mumbled, glaring critically at her own image. Now, she had breasts at least. That was something. She guessed. Not that Brad seemed to notice. When she was younger, she’d been convinced a pair of breasts was all she needed for that man to stand at attention. And, damn it, she wanted to scream. Why, why, why did it always come back to Brad?

  Brenda slipped behind Heather and rested her chin on Heather’s shoulder. “You know what I see?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “I see a gorgeous brunette who’d make any man drool and any female envious. I know I sure am.”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “No need to lay on the compliments. I already told you I’d go to the Barry Manilow concert no matter how old it makes me feel.”

  “I’m serious, damn it,” Brenda chided. “What do you see?”

  If she were honest with herself, she’d refused to put on makeup today, knowing she might see Brad, as a refusal to make him important. Which was really pathetic, because the very fact that he’d been considered at all, defied her denial. She grimaced at Brenda. “You’re infuriatingly insistent when you want something, so fine, I see a ‘Trailer Park Heather.’ My hair is in a ponytail, my makeup non-existent, and--”

  Brenda turned Heather to face her. “You are not ‘Boney Knees’ anymore. Looking good is your well-deserved revenge for all those years of being teased, so, damn it, enjoy it.”

  Heather’s heart warmed. Brenda was always there for her–outrageously, wonderfully, her best friend. “And I didn’t even pay you to say all that.”

  Brenda slid a loose lock of Heather’s hair behind her ear. “You know what you need? Besides an obvious dose of confidence and a hot man in your bed, that is. What you need is to ‘fake it 'til you make it.' ”

  Heather grimaced at the familiar "Mary Kay Cosmetics" saying they’d jokingly used since college, when they’d both tried to be sales reps and failed miserably. “You had to go there, didn’t you?”

  She grinned. “You bet I did. And you have all the resources to ‘Fake it 'til you make it’ right there in your boutique. Dress up in some of that sexy lingerie you sell in your store, drink some wine, and strut around your store in front of all those fancy mirrors inside, until you’re comfortable in your own skin. Then, when you’re ready, we’ll go find you a hot man you can seduce–a stranger. Someone you know you will never see again, and therefore, you won’t have to worry about the morning after. Then you’ll have your confidence, and you’ll have your orgasms.”

  “I’m not going to play dress-up, Brenda. I’m not. And I’m not going to go pick up some stranger. That’s not me and you know it.”

  “Ah!” Brenda said, holding up a finger. “I know the perfect mood movie.” She darted down the hall toward the living room, as if she’d never heard Heather’s objection.

  “Brenda,” she said, bringing her friend into view just as she held up a DVD from the shelf by the large-screen television. “Watch and learn. Basic Instincts and Sharon Stone--the Femme Fatale at her best.”

  “Now you’re just being silly.”

  “Sexy mood makers are never silly. I’m serious here, Heather. Dress up in some lingerie and watch this movie, or whatever movie you like. Heck, read a steamy romance novel. I have a shelf full I can share. Oh and you know what? We have Rebecca’s wedding in two weeks. What a perfect place to find a hot man.”

  Heather opened her mouth to reject the idea, but just thinking of their friend Rebecca’s hot architect husband-to-be gave her pause. Not only were the two of them wildly in love, Rebecca had shared far too much information about the creative places they found to make love. The memory was more fuel for Heather’s fast-growing orgasm envy.

  And damn it, she was tired of envy. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Let’s do it.”

  “Do what?”

  The deep masculine rumble of Brad’s voice shot through Heather like a match under a chocolate fondue, melting her in all those female places she’d otherwise swear weren’t…well--meltable.

  Brenda grinned and turned toward the Master bedroom off the living area. “Heather and I are talking man-hunting.”

  “Brenda!” Heather exclaimed, whirling around and then almost swallowing her tongue. Brad leaned against the doorway of his bedroom looking deliciously edible in a tight white T-shirt, and soft, faded jeans with one knee torn. All he needed was the leather jacket somewhere in his closet to be perfect. The one he wore when he rode his Harley.

  Brad arched a brow at Heather. “Anyone I know?”

  “What?” Heather asked. She couldn’t think. What was he asking her? “Know? Anyone you know for what?”

  “He means the man you’re hunting,” Brenda said to Heather and then to Brad, “We aren’t talking about men we know, Bradley.”

  Only his sister and his parents could call Brad, ‘Bradley.' ” Brenda and Bradley Carrington…the two B’s–constantly aggravating each other, and always, always, there for each other. Just as they had been for her.

  Brenda continued, snapping Heather out of the past and back to the very real, very embarrassing present. “We’re talking about the adventure of being with someone new and hot and…Would you believe Heather’s never—”

  “Stop!” Heather shouted, pointing a finger at Brenda. “Don’t you dare say another word.”

  Brenda laughed, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Brad opened his mouth to speak, and Heather could see the brotherly reprimand in his expression. She couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it. “And don’t you even say whatever you plan on saying. The last thing I need is a lecture from you, ‘Mr. Double Standard,’ Barbie-chasing errrr…” Okay maybe she was going too far. “Just don’t lecture me.” She whirled around to Brenda. “I’m leaving. This discussion is over.” Heather grabbed her purse from the floor by the chair and started walking. Unfortunately, she had to pass Brad’s doorway to get to the doorway she needed.

  “Wait!” Brenda yelled. “Don’t forget the DVD.”

  Heather and Brad were almost side by side when Heather stopped, the scent of freshly showered male flaring in her nostrils, his deep blue eyes boring into hers for all the wrong reasons–not because he wanted her, but because he wanted to lecture her.

  “If you need to talk, I’m around,” he said softly.

  “Talk?” she asked, suddenly angry, and she wasn’t sure why. “You hear the word sex attached to my name, and you think about talking? Like somehow me and sex means there’s a problem that must be discussed?”

  “I wasn’t aware the word ‘sex’ was ever mentioned?”

  “Then I guess we should have defined ‘man-hunting’ for you,” she said, pining for a reaction from him for reasons she was sure she wouldn’t like when later analyzed, but she charged onward. “Wine, flowers, and romantic walks in the park are part of the process. Sex is. Just sex--good sex--and lots of it.” Heather turned back to Brenda and accepted the DVD. “We’re on for that wedding,” she said, barely glancing at her friend.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Brad asked, as Heather’s gaze collided with his again.

  Exactly her point! She thought. What was wrong with her? Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t any of his business, an
d she was going to fix it and fast. “I simply want what all women want,” she replied coolly. “And that isn’t wrong. It’s actually right.”

  One dark brow darted upward. “Which is what--exactly?”

  She was feeling more daring with each passing second. “I’m sure your imagination can figure that one out pretty darn easily.”

  Behind her, Brenda laughed at Heather’s uncharacteristically risqué twist on words. Feeling quite empowered, Heather stepped forward and reached for the door. She had needs, she had wants. Okay, so she had some fears too. But darn it! She was done letting those fears get in the way of the wants and needs. Hello orgasm. Goodbye fear. And she was feeling pretty good about that decision until she heard Brenda shout, “No more bunny ears! Take out the batteries.”