Two years ago when Kate suggested I write a book for the 1Night Stand series, I wanted to set the story in Seoul, South Korea. I’d written Desire in Any Language about a college graduate who studies abroad in Korea, and readers loved the setting.
So when it came time to plan this one-night love affair in the land of Samsung, Mash, and K-pop, I sat down with Kate to work out the details. You see, there are strict rules in writing for this series, and #EvilMistressKate has a heavy hand. She’s even threatened taking my wooden spoon away for misbehavior! (I still have nightmares. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to make sure my beloved spoon is still with me.)
The first problem occurred with the use of “Madame” in Madame Eve’s name. In Korean context, “Madame” sounded unnatural and perhaps disrespectful. “She’s Madame Eve,” Kate replied, and I mulled over the problem for months until a brainwave hit. Of course! By attaching the honorific “-nim” at the end of Madame Eve’s title, I could indicate respect and stay true to Madame Eve’s character. Madame Eve became Madame Eve-nim, and poor confused Indigo wondered why Madame was named after the evening.
The second problem, however, was more serious. I originally chose Seoul Searching for my title. After discussing with readers and playing around with various titles, I hit upon a great, fun title:
Kimchi with a Side of Spanking
Fun, sassy, and indicative of kimchi’s central place in the story. Hyunkyung feeds Indigo the spicy, fermented cabbage, and the food symbolizes the new world offered. Kimchi made for a great title! I loved it! It was brilliant!
“No,” said #EvilMistressKate.
“But…” My chin quivered. A tear may have fallen. I’d already had to conduct a memorial service after my evil editor slashed one of my favorite lines. I had to give up the title, too?
“No,” replied the inexorable #EvilMistressKate. “There is nothing sexy about cabbage.”
The book turned into Seoul Spankings, and once I revealed the cover (by the talented Fiona Jayde), I basked in praise for the artwork. I couldn’t help teasing Kate.
“And you said cabbage wasn’t sexy!”
“That ain’t no cabbage on the cover!”
Maybe. Smart people don’t argue with Our Lady of Kate. (Don’t take my spoon away. Please.)
I humbly submit for your consideration a small excerpt from Seoul Spankings in which cabbage IS sexy. If you agree, please tell Kate. But let me run to safety first.
“Ah,” she [Hyunkyung] said, and she cupped her left hand underneath the piece of kimchi wrapped around a bit of meat.
Ah must be a command to open my mouth. How else could she use that order? Stop it, Indi!
I wrinkled my nose but obeyed, and she placed the salty-sour package onto my tongue. I expected to wince at the sharp, acidic spice, but grilling had softened the kimchi into pleasant warmth. Paired with fresh meat, it offered the perfect combination. Without thinking, I swallowed and opened my mouth for another taste.
Hyunkyung laughed when she saw it. “No more turning your nose up at good food,” she said with satisfaction.
Broken-hearted when her live-in boyfriend impregnates her best frenemy, Indigo Adams accepts a one-way ticket to Seoul, South Korea, and a challenge from her Great-Aunt Matilda: Forget that boy. Go and make something of yourself.
Bruised from an international public relations nightmare as the new heir to the multi-billion-dollar Han Incorporated, Hyunkyung Han seeks positive publicity in the form of a wedding. She consults with Madame Eve to find a nice, well-behaved Korean American with bilingual and bicultural skills.
Instead, Madame Eve sends Indi, a naïve philosophy major graduate working for minimum wage at the local pub. Enraged to find Indi can’t speak one word of Korean, Hyunkyung orders her sent home on the next plane to Spillville, Iowa.
Then Hyunkyung shakes Indi’s hand, and the sparks fly. With all of her professional responsibilities, how can Hyunkyung allow herself to fall for the wrong woman? How can Indi feel attraction for a woman who despises her?
Seoul Spankings offers a light-hearted romp through the perils and joys of navigating an intercultural romance. Certain to delight all fans of a happily ever after with a kinky twist.
Cookie queen, wooden spoon lady, and champion of carbs, Anastasia Vitsky specializes in F/F fiction. She hates shoes and is allergic to leather. When not writing about women who live spankily ever after, she coordinates reader and author events such as Spank or Treat, Love Spanks, and Sci Spanks. Her favorite event is Ana’s Advent Calendar, a month-long celebration of books, community, and making a difference.
She is too afraid to watch Doctor. Who, but she adores The Good Wife and anything with Audrey Hepburn. In her next life, she will learn how to make the perfect pie crust. She can be found at governingana.wordpress.com and on twitter @AnastasiaVitsky.
While she welcomes correspondence from readers, she is promised to her spoon.
All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-seoulspankings-1766749-147.html
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Seoul-Spankings-1Night-Anastasia-Vitsky-ebook/dp/B00UKL5S8S/
Amazon Canada: http://www.amazon.ca/Seoul-Spankings-1Night-Anastasia-Vitsky-ebook/dp/B00UKL5S8S/
Amazon Germany: http://www.amazon.de/Seoul-Spankings-1Night-Stand-English-ebook/dp/B00UKL5S8S/
Barnes & Noble: Not yet available
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=2IYyBwAAQBAJ
Warrior (Breeder 3) blurb
A female fighting for freedom. A male armed with determination. Can they save their people?
As a despotic Qalin marches through Parseon intent on conquering every province, Commander Marlix pledges his sister to another Alpha to protect her. Desperate to decide her own fate, Anika flees and finds refuge with the guerilla resistance movement against Qalin. Marlix’s aide Urazi hunts her down to bring her home to fulfill her duty. But when love blossoms between them, and provinces fall to Qalin, Anika and Urazi realize home has ceased to exist, and they are all that stand between the people of Parseon and the end of the world.
Warrior is the third and final book of the Breeder science fiction romance series, but it can be read as a stand-alone.
Warrior (Breeder 3) excerpt –
She stared at the bloodied body. “Is Grogan dead?”
Urazi knelt and checked for a pulse against the alpha’s neck. “Yes.” He peered up at her. “Who is he to you? Has he used you?”
“Monto, no!” she gasped, not considering the alpha’s intentions pertinent. “Grogan is the leader of the Guerilla Resistance against Qalin and Artom, which I have joined,” she explained. Urazi’s eyes narrowed, and she added, “Grogan was training me and other breeders to fight.” Breeders could approach a sentry without arousing his suspicion then immobilize him, allowing male guerillas to storm the post and secure it. She thrust back her shoulders with defiant pride. She, a female, was capable of supporting the war effort in a productive way.
Urazi rose to his feet to examine the paper target. “You are an excellent sharpshooter, but winning a battle requires more than skill with a crossbow. You would not fare well in hand-to-hand combat.”
Anika shrugged. “If I have a crossbow, I will not need to engage in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Did it help you today?” Urazi strode to Grogan’s body, and yanked up his bloodied uniform shirt. Attached to the alpha’s nipple was an insignia ring. Urazi unclipped it and carried it over to her.
Anika stared. A single star. Province one. Qalin.
“You have joined with the enemy to strike against your own people? You would betray your Alpha? Your sibling?”
Qalin’s insignia lay in Urazi’s palm, damning, but untrue. So untrue. “No! How could you say that? The Resistance plans to strike against Qalin. Against Artom.”
Urazi tucked the star into his uniform pouch.
“But maybe Grogan is an infiltrator acting alone,” she argued, fighting against the insidious memories; the ease with which she’d been accepted into the camp when her comrades learned of her familiarity with both Marlix’s and Dak’s provinces; Grogan’s constant but subtle questions about locations. He’d asked if she’d ever encountered Marlix himself. At the time, she’d feigned ignorance of the latter, fearing they would send her back to him.
Anika clutched her throat. What if Urazi’s accusation was correct?
“If he were an ordinary alpha or beta, I might concede it possible. But he is—by your account—the leader. I do not believe in coincidence. I have been observing the camp. Neither Marlix nor Dak would have sent females into combat.
“The Resistance you are so proud to be a part of is using you as expendable cannon fodder.”
Cara Bristol bio
Cara Bristol continues to evolve, adding new subgenres of erotic romance to her repertoire. She has written spanking romance, contemporary romance, paranormal, and science fiction romance. No matter what the genre, one thing remains constant: her emphasis on character-driven seriously hot erotic stories with sizzling chemistry between the hero and heroine. Cara has lived many places in the United States, but currently lives in Missouri with her husband. She has two grown stepkids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading and traveling.
Amazon UK – Warrior (Breeder Book 3) eBook: Cara Bristol: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
Amazon AU – Warrior (Breeder Book 3) eBook: Cara Bristol: Amazon.com.au: Kindle Store
All Romance eBooks- https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-warrior-1652179-340.html
I admit it…I think camping love is the sexiest there is. Give me a starry sky or a heavy golden moon hanging overhead…a campfire shooting sparks into the cool air and a couple of sleeping bags zipped together and I’m yours…well, my sweetie’s, anyway…to do with as he will. And I try to write most of my stories in places that I can imagine having a romantic time in, like the mountains or a secluded island. Sierra Seduction is free this weekend, here
And it actually is here
This picture was taken for me where the story takes place so that I could use it for the cover!
I am interested in the locations you, the reader and my fellow authors find most romantic. I will take all the names from comments this weekend, shake them up in a big straw hat and draw one and I will write a short that takes place in that commenter’s dream location…and send her (or him, I am not prejudiced) a $25.00 Amazon gift card!
Ready, set, show me the romance!
And don’t forget to pick up your copy of Sierra Seduction, free…but only through Sunday!
Val Epstein sank onto a granite outcropping and dropped his heavy pack next to him with a grunt. He’d climbed to the heights where patches of glacial ice remained even on a late summer afternoon, and where few hikers ventured. Instead of peace, his visit to the Sierra Nevadas brought a rush of memories and physical longing. But what had he expected? He rubbed at his cock, hardening in his shorts. Around every corner below the tree line, he’d half expected her to appear, flirting, toying with him, full of youthful sensuality and offering a gift he hadn’t had the courage to accept. Not then. So many years later he’d fall to his knees and beg for her touch.
He’d planned this journey to try to make some sense of a life that no longer offered the satisfaction it once had. But the memories of the woman he’d never been able to banish from his mind held his focus. The past distracted him from decisions about his future.
He squeezed a blob of sunscreen into his palm and the tropical scent revived an ache that never quite went away, lived deep in his bones, brought on a raging hard on every time he thought of her sparkling blue eyes and small, luscious tits. He’d broken into a cold sweat every time she held her ponytail aside so he could rub lotion into the back of her neck.
She’d be laughing at him. As she had when he chased her, offering to apply another layer of the cream one late summer afternoon thirty-five years before. Trying to get a peek into her shirt.
Her reddish-brown curls bobbed behind her as she raced ahead of him up the trail, that afternoon thirty-five years before, the sweet curves of her ass caressed by her worn cutoffs, long, tanned legs flying. She’d danced over the high, steep crags like she belonged there, which, of course, she did.
Each tree, rock, side trail held these images as if projected on the High Sierra itself. Gazing out over the view of the treetops below, from his perch where patches of glacier ice remained all summer and few hikers ventured, he pulled out his rock-hard dick. Closing his fist around it, Val began the slow stroking from root to tip that would ease his craving for a few moments. As he gripped his shaft the scene replayed as if it had been yesterday.
“Slow down, Mickie!” He cast a worried glance at the sun, already touching the top of the highest peaks. “I give up.”
She sped on, her laughter drifting back to him. “Catch me.”
Even at twenty, in excellent condition from his summer job building trails, he couldn’t keep up with her. But, determined to try, he increased his pace. The round curve of Mickie’s sweet ass disappeared from his view and he fought panic. What if she got lost? Even in the first week of September, the nights at ten thousand feet and more above sea level dipped into the twenties…or the teens. Unlike him, she didn’t ever carry any supplies when they hiked. Just a canteen tied to her belt. She acted as if the mountains held no dangers at all. Called him “Scout,” for being always prepared. His own pack slowed him down, which meant it would take him that much longer to get his hands on her. The impractical girl had led him a merry chase from June until the beginning of September.
She could die in these mountains on her own. Why didn’t she understand that? His heart thudded in his ears from the altitude or panic or both.
Driven to save her from her own foolishness, he charged around a corner in the path and crashed into her, sending them both flying to the ground. To prevent his greater mass from crushing her, he caught himself on his hands, stinging gravel digging into his palms. Her ass butted against his cock, which leapt to attention, nudging the crack of her denim-covered butt. Val stifled a groan when she bucked back against him, unaware she played with fire—or stoking the flames?
Shrugging the straps of his pack from his shoulders, he dropped it to the ground.
She shoved her ass against his groin again, and he jerked. “Dammit, Val-iant. Watch where you’re going.”
“Don’t call me that! You know I hate it.”
“It’s your name…Valiant.” Dropping flat on the ground, she rolled to her back.
Her breasts rose and fell with her panting breaths, nipples poking against the soft cotton of her T-shirt. She’d flirted the whole summer, teasing him without mercy, but he’d pretended not to notice. Mickie belonged in the California mountains and he’d be back on the East Coast soon. Beginning grad school. His focus couldn’t be anywhere but on his career. He ran from the choices made by his hippie mother. Eighteen years of commune dwelling cured him of the lifestyle. Success in business first, a personal life second.
But her flushed cheeks and wet lips drove him on. Her cherry-flavored gloss melted away. His dick bulged in his shorts and he licked the seam of her lips, urging her to open for his questing tongue.
“I prefer Scout.” Mickie met his with hers, sweet and tentative but so seductive he lost what little sense he had left, his rock hard cock doing most of his thinking for him. He’d worked his hands under her T-shirt—her lack of a bra—ever—had not escaped him. Lifting the garment over her head, he choked at the sight. Sweet pale globes topped with cherry red nipples. “Oh, Mickie.”
“They’re small,” she said.
“They’re perfect.” Mouth watering, he buried his face between her tits, closing his eyes and breathing in the soft scent of lavender and the coconut sunscreen from earlier. “I want to taste them.”
She shivered and tangled her fingers in his hair. “Go ahead.”
Val turned his head and blinked his eyes open. Cupping her breast, he licked his lips and closed them around her nipple. He laved the areola, taking in the bumpy texture, the salt of her sweat, and his cock surged against his fly.
When she made no protest, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, rewarded by a low moan. He moved to the other side and repeated his actions, loving her whimpers, her shaking limbs. Pinching the first tight bud between two fingers, he played with them both. She held his head to her chest, pulling his hair in her zeal.
Val couldn’t hold back anymore, about to shoot his wad in his shorts. He released her breast. “I want…I want to—”
She let go of him and pushed him back, grabbing at his shorts, pulling the zipper down and Hallelujah! He just hoped he didn’t come in her hand. That would be damned embarrassing. He just had to hold out long enough to get into her pussy. Then they heard it.
“Oh no!” Shoving him away, Mickie scrambled to her feet. “Quick, where’s my top?” She took it from him, dragged it over her head and leaped to her feet.
As he struggled with his zipper, trying to remember who and where he was, a troop of little girls from the camp ambled around that same blind corner.
“Oh look, it’s Michaela!”
“And her friend that trail guy.”
What the hell were all these kids doing way up here?
The girls surrounded them. They carried packs hung with sleeping bags and were so excited, they didn’t seem to notice anything odd, just happy to see people they knew along the way. They chattered on about heading toward a campsite where some of the staff waited with fun activities planned.
The last one to arrive was their counselor.
Unlike Mickie who worked as a cook at the camp for inner city kids, and Val who built trails for the camp to earn money to supplement his scholarships and student loans, wealthy Julia volunteered her time. She had explained how good this would look on her résumé. Charity work always did.
Well groomed at all times, she never seemed to break a sweat. Her crisp, unwrinkled Camp Freshair polo clung to her high breasts and trim waist as if tailored for her. With her money, it probably was. Her dark, shoulder length hair danced in a perky ponytail in cadence with her words when she spoke.
“Hello, Michaela, Val.” One dark sculpted brow rose. “And what brings you two up here on this lovely afternoon. Isn’t it about time to start cooking dinner, Michaela?”
Mickie’s cheeks burned red, but she held the rich girl’s gaze. “It’s my day off, but thank you for your concern.” Spinning on a heel, she started back the way they came. “I think I’m done here for now. Coming, Scout?” She marched away while he stared after her.
“Yes, Scout…were you coming?” Julia’s gaze drifted to the front of his shorts.
He fought the urge to cover himself, cheeks heating. “Leaving, yes.” He hurried after Mickie, the moment broken but his twenty-year-old hormones in raging awareness. It only took a moment to catch up to her below the tree line and fall into step at her side.
“I hate her.” Mickie walked faster, a twig snapping under her feet like a firecracker in the quiet forest. “She knew too…and she’ll tell everyone, ruin everything.”
“What can she tell?” he asked. “She didn’t see anything.”
Mickie snorted, her back straight in her march downhill, her boobs proudly leading the way. “She saw everything. Don’t kid yourself. Or, at least, she figured it out.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer to his side. “Who cares what she thinks anyway.”
She softened, resting against him. “Not me.” They walked on for a while, in silence, the scent of pine trees and sage tickling his nose. “Scout?”
“The summer is almost over.”
“And you’ll be going home, three thousand miles away in a few weeks.” Resting a hand on his arm, she stopped and faced him. “Before you go, I want to do it with you.”
His head spun as all the blood ran south at the image of that creamy flesh beneath him, her pussy clenching around his dick when he drove her to orgasm. If he took that step with her, it would mean more. Even with his cock bobbing in agreement with her idea, insisting he take her into the bushes that moment and fuck her, his brain managed to sort out something it hadn’t before. This was not a woman to screw and leave. Not like the easy girls at school who went from dorm room to dorm room. “Mickie, I can’t do that and just leave.” He was already dreading leaving her—
“Sure you can. I want you to be my first.”
At this point in the fantasy, he always changed it. Said yes. His clenching fist tightened on his cock, friction and the image in his mind driving him toward orgasm. Her parted legs inviting him to be her first, to fuck her into oblivion. To hear her cry out “Yes!” He spurted into his hand, white cum dripping between his fingers, and he sagged back onto the rock and wiped his hand and his dick on the bandana tucked in his belt. He’d need to rinse it out first chance he got.
A movement below captured his eyes and he rustled in his pack for binoculars. A hiker appeared on a trail above the lake. Long legged, fairly slim, but not the ghost of his nineteen-year-old Michaela. He watched the gap in the treetops to see who followed her, but the woman seemed to be alone. Even up here, where crime was a rarity, plenty of other dangers existed— bears and cougars, avalanches and sudden storms—and he didn’t like to see any woman alone. The binoculars made him feel like a peeping Tom, but he couldn’t seem to look away. The woman he worried about had long, . tanned limbs that drew his admiring gaze. Her curly hair stuck out of the back of the baseball cap she wore, hanging down her back in a gray-streaked auburn ponytail.
How idiotic. Some of his friends had girlfriends half their age, all enhanced tits and tight asses, but he’d never gone in for that. Midlife crises were for fat, balding guys who didn’t care about anything but their dicks and had to take something to make them usable. He’d chosen to lavish his passion on the mountains, conquering them instead of silly twenty-somethings. But that didn’t make his dick any less rigid.
He’d never had to worry about little blue pills. Thank god.
His dick hardened at the mere memory of the girl he’d met the summer between college and grad school. But he hadn’t counted on a lifetime passion for the mountains that had him adding the top peaks to his 100 North American Peaks checklist until only McKinley remained—the tallest in the lower 48 states and the one in the Sierras, the range that reminded him of her. As his marriage fell apart, his love of the outdoors grew until it replaced sex and intimacy. He understood conquest, the thrill of standing on a peak and surveying the land far below. Of making business deals involving hundreds of millions of dollars. But he’d failed at Relationships 101.
The woman below him disappeared from view around a bend and he leaned back, allowing the sun-warmed stone to ease the tight muscles in his lower back while the cool, late afternoon breeze dried the perspiration on his face. He cleaned up and tucked his dick back in his pants.
Biting into an apple from his pack, he savored the sweet crunch. Everything tasted better up here, a simple fruit better than the gourmet lunches he shared with clients. Tomorrow, he’d be on a plane back to the East Coast and another six months of seventy-hour workweeks before he could break away again. Wouldn’t it be nice if he had a companion for his trips? A soft, willing body to warm his blood on cold nights.
But then he was used to hiking alone. He only hiked with her in his dreams.
Michaela Vanz shifted her pack higher on her shoulders and tilted her phone forward and back, fighting the urge to toss the useless thing over the cliff edge. Disgust colored her mood. Nobody depended on GPS to find their way this high in the backcountry. At least nobody who wanted to find her way back in one piece. Nobody who knew better.
And Miss Michaela knew better.
She didn’t get to fifty-four, hiking the mighty Sierras and many of the other great ranges of the world, without being smarter than her current behavior indicated. Of course she’d always been the camp cook, able to make a gourmet meal out of a handful of freeze-dried ingredients and some wildcrafted herbs. Silas, may he rest in peace, had been in charge of maps and location. Six months on her own hadn’t improved her abilities to navigate her way out of a paper bag.
And she’d avoided this particular area for a long time, unsure of why she approached it today. Trail of unfulfilled needs and heartache.
She glanced at the lowering sun. Another hour of light before it sank behind the frosted peaks and, once it did, the temperature would plummet. Not that she couldn’t keep warm, but she’d planned to return to her car by evening and was running pretty low on food. Scraps of beef jerky and one small apple wouldn’t do much to keep her company on an early September evening. A photo shoot location search shouldn’t have led to her being lost in the backcountry. Not with the hundreds, maybe thousands of hours she’d spent in the High Sierra. But not very many alone.
She’d managed to make it through the summer by sticking to existing trails. Her moderate successes had made her overconfident. But a memory of a particular one path drew her, maybe her loneliness added to the desire. Also she’d heard of a lake deep in the mountains that sounded like a perfect backdrop for her latest photo shoot.
She’d promised Silas, sort-of, to try to find a new hiking companion, but hadn’t made the effort. They’d been partners for over thirty years; who could replace him? Most of the mountaineers she knew were so much younger, she didn’t get their campfire humor or know any of the songs she liked to sing and that took the fun out of the whole thing. That and the fact that she had this naughty love of camping sex. Some happy-go-lucky kids were not her choice for “hiking companions.” Maybe she could sign up for some matchmaking site.
Fifty-four year old photographer seeks hot alpha hiker for long nights in the mountain fucking our brains out. Limp dicks need not apply.
Did Val still hike? Did he ever think of her, with fondness or regret? Lust?
The shadows lengthened, covering the trail ahead of her as she descended toward the lake—well, a lake. Whether the one she sought or another of the many other jewels scattered throughout the Sierras, this side of the glacier, she couldn’t be sure until she got closer. Everything in her demanded she stop, set up camp, and ensure she didn’t freeze during the night. If the glimmer of sunlight on the breeze-ripped whitecaps represented the wrong body of water, heading into the valley, where cold air lay stagnant, she could be sealing her fate.
Drama! Of course she’d be nervous when she rarely overnighted alone…having someone at her side made her feel safer, more able to handle a crisis. She stumbled over a tree root at the edge of the path and cursed. If she’d fallen and hit her head, she could have bled to death and nobody would have known—since she’d have been dragged off by wild beasts and devoured.
Twenty years from now, thirty maybe, someone hiking through here would find her white, polished skull, a lurid testament to what the bears like for dinner. Shreds of worn fabric tangled in the branches of a tree then much taller than when she’d been murdered, maybe a faint stain of rusty red on the rock where she’d suffered her mortal injury.
They’d all be sorry…they’d…but who would?
In a fit of self-pity, Michaela sank to the rock, an innocent hunk of granite holding no bloodstains whatsoever. Truth was nobody would miss her. Oh, her assistant might be a little sad and she had some dear friends, but nobody who would be heartbroken, whose life would be left with a gaping hole if she never returned from her foolish journey. Sometimes she missed Silas a lot. With him at her side, she’d never worried about anything.
But not as much as…well, no point in trying to relive a past so long ago she’d no doubt changed the details to suit her. And Silas had been a great and noble companion, trailing her on her adventures without complaint, even if their relationship had been best friends first, lovers second. But why was his face not the most vivid in her imagination as she knelt to brush aside some branches and twigs and make a place to spread her bedroll?
How many years could she hold the visage close to her heart…the face of a man who left her before they even had the chance to find out if they had a future together? Who’d rejected her offer in such a brusque way?
Michaela hung her pack on a high branch about fifteen feet away from her camp spot, then moved back, unzipped the bag, and slipped inside, removing her shoes once she’d closed it around her. She’d be warm enough and, with her pack out of easy reach and not right next to her, she’d be less likely to attract wild animals.
Fires were a no go at this season, too easy to start a wildfire, but it wouldn’t be her first night without one.
As she fell toward sleep, her imagination conjured him there with her. Not Silas, but her old crush. Odd but she could still remember his arms tight around her, how masculine and enticing he smelled when she buried her nose in his neck. How exciting when she’d first felt his rock-hard appendage pressing against her belly. And her ass.
She remembered everything.
But he wouldn’t remember. She’d made an ass of herself, and probably a cock-tease for an entire summer, throwing herself at him in the awkward way of an untried nineteen year old, and he’d never taken her up on it. He couldn’t have made his disinterest—barring of course the natural reaction of a healthy male to a girl in his arms—any more clear.
He’d married that bitch Julia. She’d learned that from an old camp friend, but asked not to be told any more. Her imagination was cruel enough.. They’d probably had several children, each as beautiful as the one before. While she scrambled over scree slopes, laden with camera equipment, he’d be having dinner at his country club, hitting a tiny ball on a manicured verdant course, attending the local philharmonic with his wife decked out in jewels and furs.
Shoving the thought of anyone else in his life aside, she snuggled into the sleeping bag. Her fingers moved under the waistband of her pants and into her panties, wet even now with the memory of the hard-bodied guy she’d craved. Stroking through the silky cream, she let one digit slip inside and moaned. The same fantasy, embellished over the years….
“Come on, what are we waiting for?” Michaela snuggled close to his warmth, wishing she could stay there forever. “You’re flying out, who knows if we’ll ever even see each other again.” She played her fingers down the warm curve of his neck and over his chest. One chance to get him into her wet panties, to learn what it would feel like to have him inside her. Would it hurt, like some of the girls claimed? Val wouldn’t want to hurt her, but if that was the only way?
But after that, him pulsing inside her. Filling her, stretching her.
Val rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed. “I don’t want our first time to be our last.”
“Let tomorrow take care of itself. You’ll be back, won’t you?” Her heart beat in her throat. “Next summer. Or are you saying tonight is it…no matter what?” Why did it hurt so much? She struggled to pull away, but he tightened his arms.
“I never said that. You know I care for you, Mickie.” Nobody else got away with calling her that. Like she was a mouse or something. It was bad enough to have a boy’s name.
She tried again, pressing kisses against his warm chest, bare where she’d managed to slip a few buttons from their holes, and thrust her breasts against him, hoping her hard nipples would entice him to lick her there again. Her fingers rubbed the hard ridge tenting his pants. “Then why don’t you want to…to do it with me? You don’t want me that way, don’t think I’m enough woman for you.”
He chuckled, his skin vibrating under her cheek. “I think you’re enough woman for anyone. I don’t want to start something we can’t finish.” As she parted her lips to protest, he continued. “I don’t even have any protection with me. What if you got pregnant?”
“I don’t see a downside to having your child. Aren’t we going to be together anyway?”
Now he struggled, managing to leave a few inches between them in the down bag. As if she might get pregnant from cuddling. “I’m just starting my master’s program. Then at least five years of career building before I can even consider marriage and a family, Mickie. If you got pregnant, it would be a disaster!”
Up to the disaster comment they weren’t in trouble, but the moment that evil word passed his lips, she made use of the space between them to punch him in the gut. Hard.
“I’m so sorry the idea of my having your baby is comparable to the Titanic. Let me out of here.” Michaela jerked the zipper down and struggled to her feet, reaching back into the bottom of the bag to fetch her boots.
She laced them sitting on the ground, the cold air chilling her to the bone and making her nipples ache almost as much as her heart. Sobs shook her shoulders and her heart broke.
So Julia told the truth. “You have big plans, Val, and I don’t fit into them. You won’t even make love with me one time before you leave.”
I can’t believe he’d rather fuck that frigid rich bitch than me. Can’t he see how much I care for him?
“Julia is probably a better fit for you anyway.”
Shut up! Shut up! Don’t throw him at her.
But hurt pride filled her mouth with stupid words. “I am sure her daddy’s connections will be what you need to make those five years count. Of course, once you’re married you won’t have to ever worry about career problems, will you?”
She’d fled down the trail toward the distant lights of the camp, too upset to care if she ever saw him again. So independent at that age. All black or white, no shades of gray.
No stopping to wait for explanations.
All or nothing.
No matter how wet he made her, how needy, she’d find a way to live without him. She’d never see him again.
Shaking off the past, Michaela pulled her head into the bag and prepared to wait out the darkness. She’d gotten good at wishing. Wishing for Val to realize his mistake before it was too late, for her career as a photographer to take off, for the pregnancy that Val considered a disaster but Silas longed for, for morning. At least half those things were guarantees.
You may find the rest of Sierra Seduction Here
Have a wonderful weekend!
BLURB ~ A SUMMER’S ENCHANTMENThttps://katerichards.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post-new.php#edit_timestamp
Cassandra Wales, an independent and determined registered nurse finds her plans for the future shattered when her boyfriend dumps her. Her witchcraft made him squirm and she wasn’t changing for him. The move into her new home keeps her distracted, but she’ll be sure to keep an eye out for red flags next time. When an elderly woman shows up at her doorstep and makes an odd request, she comes face to face the woman’s hot and sexy grandson. He convinces her to come to see his band play. Will she be able to trust a man who has women begging for his attention?
Jake Hill is an ambitious, up and coming lead singer in a rock band. When his grandmother asks him to take her over to her first home, he doesn’t question her motives. Instead, he meets the woman of his dreams. Will she stick around while he climbs the ladder in the exciting world of a rock star?
How will Jake find the time to nurture a relationship when his music takes top billing? Can the passion between them be enough to lead the way, or will fear of failure take control of their destiny?
Excerpt: As Cassandra traced the outline of his full lips with her eyes, her hands trembled. A thick
head of, shaggy, blonde hair held a sheen in the sunlight. There was a sense of familiarity in his
voice, and it brought her comfort. As he bent down to get his grandmother’s bag, she stole a
glimpse at his tight-fitting jeans. It was difficult to keep a thought in her head.
He placed the bag on the floor, stood and placed his hand on the roof of the car, giving her a
peek at his tattooed bicep. His tight fitted, short sleeved shirt lifted giving her a clear view of his
six-pack. He’s hot, but he’ a real show off. Probably has girls lining up at his doorstep. It wasn’t
like her to gawk at a guy. The array of emotions she was feeling made her lightheaded. All
thoughts of her decorating project took a back seat to her raging hormones. Her focus was
supposed to be on her new home, not a hot, sexy dude in a great pair of jeans. She took a deep
breath in an attempt to get it together. He inched closer, and she got a whiff of his sensual
cologne. Jake oozed sex appeal. Steadying herself, a silly thought cane to her. Is he about to kiss
me? Wishful thinking on her part, but she’d never admit it.
Jake didn’t have to make a move to pique her interest. The intensity of his stare, sent shivers
down her spine.
“Look, I know this is sudden, but how’d you like to meet me this Friday at Shark’s, on
Willow Drive? We’re heading the bill and I’d love for you to hear us jam.” He tilted his head and
reached out to touch her arm. “Say you’ll come. Please? No pressure, but my grandmother is
waiting.” He gave a boyish grin.
His sensuous full lips tempted her to imagine a romantic interlude. I must be losing it. Never
in her life had she found a man so tantalizing. She offered a playful grin, feeling the butterflies in
her stomach grow. “I’d love to hear you play again.” A real date might be better, but a slow start
sounded good for now. She didn’t expect to be so attracted to a man she’d just met. No formal
introduction was needed. The chemistry spoke for itself.
“Can you make it this Friday night? I promise to spend breaks with you.” He kept his eyes
on her, making his invitation hard to resist.
“I think I can make it.”
“You think? Try to be there. I’ll sing a song especially for you.”
She felt the heat on her face. “Okay, I’ll do my best to make it. It’s nice of you to invite me.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t believe she had made a date with a man she met
briefly, right in front of her house. “Thanks,” she said.
“I’m stoked you’re coming.” Jake smiled and jumped into his car, buckled up and waved as
he pulled away.
How on earth did that happen?
Buy Link http://bit.ly/1mV4VKu
Kathleen lives in New Jersey with her husband and their two dogs. She’s a registered nurse who works in an emergency room. Writing has been her passion since she was a young girl. Contemporary and paranormal romance are her favorites. She has three adult children and three lovable grandsons. Her favorite romantic getaway is Cape May, New Jersey. You might find Kathleen on a beach down the Jersey Shore, wearing a straw hat, sipping on an iced tea, dreaming up her next romance novel.
DEFIANT, by Sabrina York
Noble Passions, Book Five
When rakish Ned falls in with the wrong crowd, his brother decides to send him to the Continent for “seasoning”. For Sophia, this just won’t do. She’s loved Ned for ages—and also longed for adventure. She runs away from her boring suitors and disguises herself as a cabin boy on the Defiant, the ship sailing Ned to Italy.
Ned knows he’s not good enough for Sophia, but once they’re on the Defiant, he can’t stop himself from touching her, tasting her, loving her. Not when a wild tempest and a band of ruthless pirates threaten them. Not when every look from her gives him such pleasure. And certainly not when she comes, warm and wild and willing, to his bed.
If they survive their voyage, Sophia’s brother might kill him, but it will have been worth every moment and every hot, sweet kiss.
A Romantica® Regency historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
READ AN EXCERPT
Sophia stood on the bow of the boat in the dark as the wind and rain lashed her face. She loved it. Loved it. Not only was the storm elemental and fierce, it hid her tears.
Surely she hadn’t expected Ned to greet her with open arms. Not when she had barged in on his adventure as she had. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to be so horrid. His expression had devastated her.
Foolish girl, it said.
But then, her heart agreed.
She was foolish.
Foolish to ever think that he—
She whirled around, though she knew what she’d see. More glowering.
She was right.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m reveling.” She thrust out her chin, in case he didn’t believe her.
He gaped at her. “Reveling?”
“Yes.” She didn’t mean to shout, but his wintry demeanor annoyed her tremendously. She threw out her arms. “Look at this!”
“It’s a storm.”
“It’s beautiful. The waves are wild, untamed—”
“You could be swept overboard.”
“The wind is howling and the rain is savage. It’s glorious.”
“It’s freezing. Come inside.”
“It’s not freezing. It’s summer.”
“Then you go inside.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your name.”
“You sound like Ewan.”
“I’m starting to think Ewan is a saint.”
She glared at him. “What a beastly thing to say.” She hated that her chin wobbled a little. Hated that he winced.
“I’m sorry, Sophia. This has been trying for me.” He sluiced the water from his face. “Won’t you please come inside?”
“All right. Fine.”
“You did say please.”
He blew out a breath and offered her his arm. She frowned at it. “I’m a cabin boy, remember? You don’t offer a cabin boy your arm.” When he didn’t lower it, she smacked it. “Someone will see.”
That caught his attention and he slowly lowered his arm. “Right then. Come inside.” He followed her back to the cabin, his stride decidedly unsteady. If anyone was tipping overboard, it was most likely him.
When she once again stood in his chambers, she realized the folly of her actions. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes and she was drenched. So was he. Without a word, he relit the lamp and then opened his trunk and pulled out several shirts, two of which he tossed to her. “Change.”
That was it. One word. Just “change” and then he presented her with his back. She huffed a breath, but did as he asked because she was really rather cold. The feel of the cloth falling over her chilled flesh warmed her. Because it was his shirt. It had touched his skin. She wasn’t sure why the thought sent heat scudding through her belly.
“Use the other shirt to dry your hair,” he suggested, as he began toweling off as well.
She huffed a laugh. “All of your clothes will be wet.”
“They’ll dry. Are you clothed?”
He turned. And froze. His gaze locked onto her bare legs. “I-I thought you said you were clothed.” A squawk.
“I am.” But the intensity of his stare made her self-conscious, so she slipped into the bed.
“Close your eyes,” he said as he unbuttoned the damp linen clinging to his chest.
“I need to change as well. I’m f-freezing.”
“Okay.” She did. But she peeked.
He ripped off his wet shirt and her breath caught at the sight of his broad back. Muscles rippled as he moved and she swallowed. He was beautiful. He tugged the fresh shirt over his head and she nearly whimpered as that magnificent vision disappeared. But then, he unfastened his trousers.
All pretense of not peeking evaporated.
He sat and took a moment to work off his boots. And then he stood. His trousers were tight, as was the fashion, and he had to peel them off. As he bent, she caught a flash of his bare behind.
She must have made a noise because he whirled around. His cheek bunched when he saw her watching. “You’re supposed to have your eyes closed.”
She hunkered in the covers, as though that would disguise the fact that her eyes were open wide.
It was probably wrong to grin at him, but she couldn’t help it.
“Stop calling me that. It always makes me think I’m in trouble.”
“You are in trouble. You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”
She tipped her head to the side. “We both know Ewan will be so relieved to see me, he’ll forget how angry he is—”
Ned stilled and fixed her with a dark glare. “What makes you think I’m talking about Ewan?”
“I’ve a mind to bend you over my knee.”
Why a shiver rippled through her, she had no idea. She’d been spanked once or twice as a child and she hadn’t cared for it in the slightest. But something dark and domineering in Ned’s tone made her womb warm.
“Wouldn’t I? Now, look away. Your brother would skewer me if I gave you the education you’re about to have.”
She attempted not to snort. Ned—and everyone—thought her a prim and innocent miss on account of the polish she’d acquired at Lady Satterlee’s. Nothing could be further from the truth. As a child, before Ewan had made his fortune, they’d lived a hand-to-mouth existence in the slums of Perth. She’d seen more than one couple rutting against a wall in a dingy alleyway. And at one point, she and her brother had taken refuge in a bordello. She’d been only seven, but if she’d had an education, she got it there. She could probably teach Ned a few things.
Still, because he seemed to expect it, she squeezed her eyes tight and didn’t hardly peek at all as he finished changing. Besides which, the spot she was interested in was mostly shadows.
With a great huff, he threw himself back into the chair. “Now, go to sleep.”
“Don’t you want me to put out the light?”
“No. I want to be able to see where you are.”
“I’m not leaving again tonight.” Probably. Unless her despair overcame her once more.
“Leave it on.” A grunt, and not a very nice one at that. Why he had call to be annoyed, she couldn’t fathom.
Blast and damn, he was an annoying man. Sophia grunted as well and rolled over, facing the wall of the cabin. She studied the patterns the swinging lamp made for a long while, listening as he shifted one way and then the other.
It was really unfair for him to have to sleep in the chair. This was his room. But he would never share her bed. She grimaced at the way the words came out, but it was true. He wouldn’t. Unless…
She rolled over again and watched him twist in the chair. He caught her eye and frowned.
An impatient groan. “Yes, Sophia?”
“Ned, I’m cold.”
He stilled. Then barked, “Put on another blanket.”
“There aren’t any more.” She faked a shiver. She wasn’t cold in the slightest. She never was. Ewan said she ran hot. “Brr. My teeth are chattering.”
His glower became a frown.
“I hope I don’t get ill.”
He paled. “You shouldn’t have gone out in the rain. Why did you go out in the rain?”
She sneezed. Or something like it. “I don’t know.”
“Am I running a fever?” She put her palm to her forehead. “I think I’m running a fever.”
His brow wrinkled. He stood and made his way across the tiny chamber as though on his death march. He set the backs of his fingers to her cheeks. His frown darkened. “You are warm.”
“No. I’m cold.” She shivered and peered up at him, her eyes as wide as she could make them. “Won’t you warm me?”
He wrenched his hand away as though she’d burned him. “What?”
“Lie here beside me and warm me up?”
“There’s not enough room for both of us.”
“Sophia.” She’d never heard her name in such a strangled voice, not even when Ewan was at his wit’s end.
“Just for a bit? You can be on top of the covers. Surely that is decent.”
The muscle in his cheek bunched again, as though he were grinding his teeth.
He gusted a sigh. “All right, Sophia. Scoot over and make room.”
She did. With alacrity.
“And roll over, facing the wall.”
She frowned at him “Why?”
“Just do it. Please.”
“Oh, all right.” But only because he said please. And because, when she was facing the other way, he couldn’t see her grin.
He settled in behind her and a shiver rocked her. He was warm. And he smelled delicious. Not fishy in the slightest. It was delightful, lying here with him. She closed her eyes and imagined he wanted this as much as she.
If only. If only.
Check out the other books in the Noble Passions Series from Sabrina York
Follow the decadent exploits of friends and enemies as they find love and passion in the glittering world of the Regency—and its dark underbelly.
2014 EPIC eBook Award Finalist 2013 Passionate Plume Finalist Widowed and threatened with penury by her heartless in-laws, Eleanor–Lady Ulster–hatches a plot to save herself. Determined to produce the Ulster “heir”, she seduces a stranger at a tawdry masquerade. Little does she know, this magnificent masked lover is none other than her husband’s greatest nemesis. And God knows Ulster had plenty. Ethan Pennington is mortified to arrive at a house party and discover Lady Ulster in attendance. He has wanted her and hated wanting her–his enemy’s bride–for years. When he overhears Eleanor’s predicament and her plans to place a cuckoo in the Ulster nest, he is more than willing to oblige. The opportunity to finally claim her–while taking the revenge he craves–is more than he can resist. Ethan strikes a bargain with Eleanor, promising to provide her with the heir she so desperately needs…if she will meet his needs in return. Every decadent one of them.
The sizzling prequel to Folly
2014 Winner of the Carolyn Readers’ Choice Award
When Lady Helena Simpson flees an unwanted marriage to a revolting lord, she finds refuge with James, a charming, handsome man unlike any she’s ever known. Helena concocts the perfect solution to her problem. She asks—begs—James to ruin her. Surely her betrothed will repudiate her if she is no longer pure. And if all her efforts fail and she still ends up married to a horrid man until the end of her days, she will at least once have known true passion.
But James is not all he seems. He is, in fact, a wicked lord with a dark fancy. When Helena awakens his desire, he becomes determined to take everything she has to offer and more. No matter the cost.
Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke of Moncrieff’s life has been turned on its end. His well-ordered home has been invaded. By destitute relatives. From Scotland. How on earth can he write Lord Hedon’s salacious novels with hellions battling in the garden and starting fires in the library? But with the onslaught has come a delicious diversion. His cousin’s companion, the surprisingly intriguing Kaitlin MacAllister. He is determined to seduce her. Using her desperate need for funds and her talents as an artist, he convinces her to draw naughty pictures for his naughtier books…and he draws her into his decadent web.
But Kaitlin has a secret. She’s fled Scotland—and a very determined betrothed. When Edward’s cousin is kidnapped and held in her stead, Kaitlin is honor-bound to return to her homeland and rescue her—much to Edward’s chagrin.
Because suddenly he can’t bear the thought of Kaitlin marrying another man. He can’t bear the thought of losing her at all.
Kidnapped and held prisoner by menacing Scottish brigand, the notorious McCloud, Violet Wyeth does her best to persevere…and resist his rakish charms. But when she realizes The McCloud is really Ewan St. Andrews, the boy who once saved her life, the boy who once kissed her and made her heart flutter, she is lost.
Ewan has every intention of marrying Lady Kaitlin MacAllister. He desperately needs the entrée into the ton this bride can provide. But when his bride is delivered—bound and gagged—it’s not Kaitlin. It’s Violet Wyeth—the girl who betrayed him and ruined his life when he was a boy. He keeps her, determined to punish her for her sins. But when he discovers the truth about what really happened so long ago, and seething passion rises between them, he can no longer hold on to his rusty grudge. By the time he realizes how much he loves Violet—that he always has—he’s lost her.
All he can do is follow her. Follow her into the bowels of hell—and partake in the torment of the glittering London Season, where the harpies are far more dangerous than a Scottish brigand.
About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!
Welcome to the Is it Summer Yet Blog Hop!
Summer is all about kicking back, having a great time, good food, good fun and good friends. Some of my characters would like to offer suggestions on where they love spending their summertime!
These Two Men suggest the Caribbean, maybe the Bahamas. Drink your fill of sneak-up on you Bahama Breezes, eat delightful seafood and maybe share a little bit of romance on a private island. After all, as Rex and Paul point out, summer only comes once a year.
At the Wiccan Haus, a paranormal air adds that special touch to the one week vacation. I highly recommend the apple orchard cottages for a secluded ménage. The apples are magical!
Corbin’s Bend, the ome of the new hot series from Lazy Day, is not far from Denver and a great place to travel. It’s a little community where spanking is the lifestyle, the mountain air is fresh, hiking trails alongside sparkling steams are nearby, and For Ben, my contribution to the community will arrive on July 9.
Click here to link to all the other participants in this fun event! Leave me a note and let me know what your idea of a summer paradise is and I will randomly select three winners, each to receive a copy of one of these three books. Have a great summer!