She’d be the perfect catch if he could take his eye off the ball.
Pitch Perfect
© 2013 Sierra Dean
Boys of Summer, Book 1
Emmy Kasper knows exactly how lucky she is. In a sport with few opportunities for women at the pro level, she’s just landed her dream job as head athletic trainer for the San Francisco Felons baseball team. Screwing up is not an option.
She’s lost in thought as she pedals to the spring training facility, her mind abuzz with excitement as she rounds a corner—and plows head-on into two runners. The end of her career dances before her eyes when she realizes she’s almost run over the star pitcher.
As Tucker Lloyd watches the flustered Emmy escape with his bandana tied around her skinned knee, the view is a pleasant change from worrying about his flagging fastball. At thirty-six, the tail end of his career is glimmering on the horizon. If he can’t pull something extraordinary out of his ball cap, the new crop of rookies could make this season his last.
The last thing either of them needs is a distraction.
The last thing either of them expects is love.
Warning: Contains a down-on-his-luck pitcher, a good-girl athletic therapist, chemistry that’s out of the park and sexy times that’ll make them round all the bases.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Pitch Perfect:
What was she doing?
Tucker’s fingers caressed the sensitive skin along her jaw and followed the upward curve of her face until he was holding the back of her head, his hand buried in her hair.
He’d told her she could say stop whenever she wanted, but she didn’t want him to stop. She never wanted him to stop, and finally she could let him follow through without the guilt.
Tucker kissed her cheek softly, and she let out a little sigh. He paused for a moment, but when she made no other sound aside from the exhalation, he continued the task at hand.
His delicate kisses moved with practiced slowness from her cheek to the dip where her jaw met her neck, and there he gently licked her skin. The shocking warmth of his tongue on her made a thrill shoot through her, piercing her groin and taking her from mildly aroused to downright horny.
Emmy no longer wondered what she was doing. She wondered instead how she had gone this long without doing it.
She raised her palms to the front of his shirt and clasped two handfuls of the cotton into her fists, tugging him closer. Since he couldn’t physically come nearer to her with her legs in the way, she parted them and made room for his body between her thighs.
The heat of his skin was evident even through their two layers of clothes, and once his body was flush against hers, his kiss moved from her neck to her lips. He seized her mouth in such a way she momentarily questioned if he really was the nice guy he seemed, because no nice man should kiss with the owning, demanding power Tucker was using. The way his lips parted hers and his fingers clawed at her hair was needy and insistent, full of something far more primal than she’d expected from her mild-mannered pitcher.
She was intoxicated by it. Wanting her had made him this crazy, and she wanted to know how wild he could be.
Her mouth yielded to his kiss, lips opening so his tongue could meet hers, teasing, playfully nipping with his teeth, deepening the kiss each time she hesitated until she was sure she might melt into a puddle on his floor. He had a robust taste of dark coffee and something else that was masculine and entirely Tucker. She’d kissed him before, but never so much and so deeply. It was as though this embrace were an abyss and he was willing her to fall into it with him.
Releasing her hair, he braced one hand on either side of her against the counter and leaned into her so she was forced to bend backwards, the countertop meeting the small of her back.
“Tucker,” she mumbled when he pulled away briefly. She had no other intention, nothing specific to say, she just wanted to hear how his name sounded now that she had the taste of him all over her lips. Delicious. It all sounded delicious.
This time she closed the gap. Her hands still fisted in his shirt, she dragged him back down to her, reclaiming his mouth and returning the fevered passion with which he’d kissed her. He pushed closer, his crotch seated against hers and the rigid presence of his cock unmistakable along her inner thigh.
Emmy wanted to say his name again, as an invitation or a call to arms, but her tongue was too tied up with his to make time for words. He growled into her mouth when she arched her hips towards him, and in response she let a moan rumble in her throat.
She wasn’t going to say no, and if he was waiting for her to stop this, he had another thing coming. It had been months since she’d last had sex—yet another sign things with her and Simon had shifted gears into the platonic—and she’d been denying herself Tucker all that time.
To let him know what she was thinking, she pulled back abruptly from the kiss and looked him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and the skin around his mouth was red from their rough kisses. She was willing to bet his morning stubble had done a number on her skin, but she didn’t care. None of it mattered except for getting him out of his stupid pajama pants and getting them both back into those beautiful cotton sheets.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, trying to remember the last time a kiss had made her dizzy with need. To drive home her words, she let go of his shirt and grabbed his ass with both hands, tugging him so close they both gasped. “Yes.” This time there was a growl to the word.
“Okay.” He stepped back and pulled her to her feet so quickly she stumbled. But he was there, strong and sure, holding her to him. He smelled fabulous for someone who’d just woken up. Maybe they were a good pheromone match, but to Emmy he smelled like fresh pepper and cotton, and it was a glorious combination. He made her head swim with desire, and her usually too-busy brain was, for once, quiet and focused.
Tucker explored her body, running his hands over her T-shirt until he found the hem, then the first shock of real skin-to-skin contact sent Emmy reeling. His big hands were warm, and though his fingertips were rough and calloused from years of pitching, his touch was light and sensitive. Everywhere his fingers traveled a spark of electricity followed, igniting a desire within in her that had long lain dormant. When he lifted her shirt, she didn’t protest, although she’d never been disrobed in a kitchen before.
When her top was off, she didn’t feel any of the painful awareness of her body she had with other lovers. She’d often felt like she was being assessed and catalogued by other men. Great body, decent boobs. Or, short legs, too much ass.
With Tucker it was different. The way he gazed at her with her top off was so worshipful and adoring she didn’t think he was comparing her to anyone else. He was seeing her for who she was.
In that moment, any thoughts of might disappeared, and Emmy knew she loved him. She’d known, really, since the trip to Chicago. But seeing him look at her in the harsh morning light—with no makeup and terrible hair—and still be impressed…well, he must be crazy about her.
He touched her again, tentative at first, then greedy, exploring her exposed skin with his palms fanned wide. He tucked his fingertips into the waistband of her jeans, grazing the top of her ass and making her shudder with unrestrained excitement. With each new area he traversed, Emmy’s brain became cloudier, wondering how she’d resisted him for so long and how stupid she’d been to live without this in her life.
Withdrawing, he shifted his attention to her breasts, cupping each mound with a hand so large even her C cups looked small being held by them. He rubbed her peaked nipples through the sheer lace fabric of her bra, sending another shock wave directly to her core. No one had ever managed to get her so wet, so quickly, with most of her clothes still on. It was as if Tucker’s every ministration was attuned to her, and he knew the wants of her body better than she did.
The work they did together on the field had proven she understood the mechanics of his body, and she’d used that knowledge to make him a better pitcher. What
could he do to her once he’d learned the finer details of her form? She was eager for him to know her that well, and yearned to know him better than she already did.
Tucker dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor, his tousled brown hair all she could see when his head settled between her breasts. He hugged her waist possessively with one arm, locking her to him, and with his other hand he lowered the cup of her bra. He teased her nipple with short, hot licks, drawing it into a tight, almost painful nub, and latched his mouth on to it.
Emmy shivered as he worked her with his lips and tongue, burying her hands in his soft, messy hair. When her knees buckled, he kept her upright with his arm, and she ended up kneeling on his thighs. Never once did he stop teasing her nipple, and Emmy hadn’t known she could feel so much pleasure from the most basic foreplay.
It wasn’t enough, though.
Her whole body pulsed with a need so demanding it throbbed in her ears and blotted out all sound except for their twin heartbeats.
“Bedroom,” she rasped.
Sometimes falling in love is the easy part…
Trust in Me
© 2013 Dee Tenorio
A Rancho del Cielo Romance
Locke Jackman is single, childless…and he has a bad case of empty nest syndrome. For years, as he fought tooth and nail to keep his brothers and sisters together after his parents died, his entire life was focused on his responsibilities.
Now his siblings have all moved on with their lives, and there’s no one around to distract him from his overpowering attraction to his sister’s best friend. Their mutual desire is stunning…but then again, so are the secrets keeping them apart.
Susie Packard’s nightmarish marriage taught her what happens when she gives in to her weakness for powerful men. Too bad the big, stoic frowner across the street—the one who sets her bells jangling just by breathing—has her in his sights.
Try as she might to keep her emotional distance, Locke is determinedly knocking down all her walls. But as much as she wants to be the woman he needs, she knows better than most—passion may have its rewards, but every secret has its price.
Warning: This book contains a hot, modern-day Viking seducing his way to the heart of his woman, a stubborn lingerie designer with a world of secrets and a very deep bathtub… Enjoy!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Trust in Me:
“Fine.” He set his forearms on the table, leaning toward her, hoping like hell he didn’t screw this up. The thought of walking out the door and never being let back in scared the shit out of him, leaving his gut in knots. Be gentle… “I want to hold you, all night long. I want to feel you stretched out next to me, breathing against my neck. I want to smell your hair and whatever that flowery shit is you put in it and dream about holding you all night long. I need some goddamn peace, Susie, and I want it with you.”
She blinked, swallowing so hard he heard it. Practically felt it. Maybe he would have if his heart wasn’t beating so rough his temples ached.
“I-I don’t think there was a question in there.”
“If I ask, you’ll say no just to prove you can.”
Her lids fluttered closed.
“It’s just us, baby. We can be honest when it’s just us. I need you tonight. And I think you need me. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”
A lick to her lips. Her brows came together again while she seemed to argue with herself. “People will talk.”
“When has that ever stopped me from anything?”
She seemed to weigh that, finally opening her eyes. “We can’t have sex, I mean it.”
“I can live with that.” For now.
She studied him, her lips twitching at the corners. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“I know,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That’s what worries me.” She stood, reaching her slim hand out and slipping her fingers over his. She tugged and just like that, he could breathe again. “One night, Jackman. Just sleep.”
“Just sleep.”
She didn’t miss his lack of agreement to the other stipulation, but thankfully, she didn’t make a fuss about it. Just sighed and pulled him toward her bedroom.
The short trip wasn’t easy on his nerves. A million questions ran through his mind. Would she allow him under the blankets with her? Would they sleep skin to skin? Could he keep his hands off her all night long, as he’d promised? Would she forget herself and let her own hands wander over him? If she did, did that mean all bets were off?
He wasn’t the only one second-guessing himself, he decided, when Susie stared at her wrought-iron girl bed like it was a dragon come to eat her. She let go of him and brought her hand up to worry her fingers over the charm on her necklace. “I’m insane to be doing this.”
“It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
She turned to pierce him with a displeased look.
Well, it wasn’t.
“That was different. We were carried away. This time, we’re just walking in. It’s…it’s…”
“Lacking romance?”
She snorted on her laughter. She actually snorted. Then kept right on laughing.
“What? I can be romantic.” That night in the cabin was damn romantic. Fire burning, a soft bed, beers and pretzels… He frowned. Maybe that last bit hadn’t been the stuff women dream about, but sitting across from her on the cabin’s rug while she clutched the sheet over her chest, watching her throat move as she swallowed from the long-neck? It was damn romantic to him.
Susie’s hand fell on his chest, soothing over his heart. He liked it, until she used the other to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking about it. Just trust me, romance isn’t something I think you’re able to do on purpose.”
Interesting. “So you think I’ve done it on accident all this time?”
“No, I think you’ve tried it with a sledgehammer all this time.” But she was smiling while she said it. Relaxed. Which meant she must not mind sledgehammers too much…
He saw the exact instant she realized what he meant to do. Her eyes widened, the tension in her shoulders coming back in a heartbeat. “Locke…”
“I’m not going to break my word.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, stroking down and under to tip her chin up. Then he ran his lips over hers, a taste of a kiss. She moaned, just a little one, but it was almost enough to push him past his limit. He’d waited so long to feel her again. To touch her. Hunger threatened to steal his intentions, feeding the urge to sink his hands into her hair and hold her in place so he could kiss her the way he’d been aching to for months. Drowning himself in her feel and warmth and flavor… He almost gave in, but he couldn’t rush this. Couldn’t overwhelm her. She had to come to him on her own or she wouldn’t come at all… “I’m just setting the mood.”
“There wasn’t supposed to be a mood,” she reminded, but her hands slid up his arms and she leaned into him.
It was all he could do not to shout in relief. Instead, he kissed her again, firmer this time, and damn she felt good. Warm and strong, her body sinking into his and her needy little touches at the back of his neck and shoulders telling him he was doing this right. He wanted to squeeze her closer, run his hands down her back and mold her to the heavy rise of his cock, but more than ever, he needed to behave. But it was incrementally easier to keep his hands loose, let her guide the moment, the intensity. Next time, he promised himself, next time he wouldn’t need to hold back.
“Sure there was,” he responded softly, straining to keep his tone reassuring.
She tilted her head back, and he followed her unspoken request, kissing and caressing his way down her throat.
“Restfulness, remember? Let me help you rest.”
Her moan this time was full of caution. “This is asking for trouble.”
“No.” His palms settled on her hips, his thumbs finding their way under the hem of her shirt. Silk
en skin trembled beneath his calluses. “I’m asking you to trust me. For one night, let me prove that you can trust me.”
Her eyes gleamed, shadows of pain he couldn’t miss in their depths. Pain and secrets he hoped to God he was wrong about. “Maybe you’re not the one who can’t be trusted.”
“Then trust me enough for both of us.”
He brought his mouth down on hers and they both gave in.
Maxie
Kimberly Dean
It’s just pretend…but nobody wants to stop.
Triple X, Book 2
Maxie’s quiet, predictable routine is shattered when she steps outside her flower shop and almost runs into two women. It’s not the near collision that’s startling. It’s the strangers’ faces. It’s like looking in a mirror times two, and it sends her into a dead faint.
Sheriff Zac Ford sees three identical copies of the woman who’s caused him more sleepless nights than he can count, and it stops him in his tracks. Maxie’s buckling knees snap him out of his trance, and he catches her before she hits the cement.
Two sisters she never knew she had? Maxie can’t deal with this turmoil, not on her own. She needs a shield, a rock. For the first time in her life, she takes a wild leap of faith.
When Maxie calls him her boyfriend, Zac has no trouble playing along. It’ll give him time to figure out what these “sisters” want. Soon, though, for-show kisses get hotter and playacting touches grow bold. And Maxie must choose to stay in her safe little world, or grab life by the horns.
Warning: Don’t lie. It only leads to more lies, hotter kisses, bolder touches, less bed space, strange looks about town, and a complete loss of shyness.
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