Savage Revenge (27 page)

Savage Betrayal

Seattle Steam

Dangerous Grounds

Tempting Adam

Seducing Allie

Chances Are

Anybody but Justin

Luck be Delanie

Protecting Phoebe

Holding Out for a Hero

Going Down

Command and Control

Flash Point

The McLaughlins

Good Girl Gone Plaid

Coming Soon

The McLaughlins

Kilty Pleasures

Falling for the bad boy is even more dangerous the second time around.

Good Girl Gone Plaid

© 2013 Shelli Stevens

The McLaughlins, Book 1

In high school Sarah fell for her best friend’s older brother—one of the sexy, Scottish McLaughlin boys. But a painful betrayal showed her she’d been a fool to give her heart to a bad boy. At least it made it easier to leave him and move halfway around the world when her Navy dad got stationed in Japan.

Eleven years later, the death of her grandmother has forced Sarah back to Whidbey Island for a month. It’s the length of time she must stay in her inherited house before she’s allowed to sell it, take the money and run. But when she sees Ian, bad as ever and still looking like sin on a stick, she can’t keep her mouth from watering.

One look at Sarah stirs up the regret lingering in Ian’s heart—and never-forgotten desire lingering in his body. He should walk away, especially since divorced single mothers aren’t his style. But when she starts showing up at his family’s pub, he can’t resist a little casual seduction for old time’s sake.

One thing quickly becomes clear, though. The heat between them is causing an avalanche of secrets and betrayal and nothing will ever be the same.

Warning: A bad-boy hero who’s good with his hands, a heroine who’s trying to be good. Contains liberal consumption of Scotch whisky, a Highland Games competition, men in kilts wielding large poles, and a potential Sarah McLaughlin of the non-musical kind.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Good Girl Gone Plaid:

She blinked and wet her lips. “W-what?”

“You heard exactly what I said.” His gaze honed in on her mouth and his eyes darkened. “A kiss. It’s not that complicated.”

Oh, it was definitely that complicated.

“Not a chance.”

“Why?”

“Are you high? Because we’ve got a history—a pretty complex one where I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you. And beyond that, I’m not for sale, dammit.”

Ian laughed. The sound so deep and sexy, she hated the way it heated her blood.

“I’m not asking you to suck me off. Though I sure as hell wouldn’t protest if you tried. It’s just a kiss.”

The imagery. Oh, God, the imagery those words created. She shoved it aside, and sputtered, “You’re disgusting. You kiss your mother with those lips?”

“Not since she moved back to Scotland with Da. And the only kissing I’d like to focus on is between you and I.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

When she stepped back, he followed her. A deliberate dance of seduction. Of intimidation.

“It will happen, Sarah, because I want it to and I’m certain you do too.”

“Arrogant much?” Her mouth went dry. “I was done with you the day I moved to Japan.”

Okay, that was a lie. She’d never forgotten him—it would be impossible to. And each suggestive little sentence he uttered was turning her body to liquid heat. Which pretty much made her think she needed to have her head examined. Any normal woman would’ve reacted by slapping that smug smile off his face.

“And that’s just the thing, doll. I wasn’t done with you.” His head dipped. “Not even close.”

And before she could fire back a response, not that she had one after his explosive admission, he muttered, “I’m collecting my payment.”

His mouth claimed hers.

Instinct demanded she fight him—push him away, but her mind reasoned that she could fight him another way. By not responding. By not giving him any indication that she still harbored any emotion except disdain to him.

But his kiss wasn’t hard—wasn’t aggressive. It was slow and sensual. Gentle even.

His mouth brushed over hers in a soft caress, again and again, before his tongue teased the seam of her pressed lips.

His shocking change of tactic tore down any walls she’d maneuvered between them. Emotions she’d thought long dormant stirred deep within her. Physical needs she hadn’t realized she could experience anymore came to the surface.

The combination of the two was a bit terrifying.

She wasn’t a twenty-eight-year-old woman anymore, but a seventeen-year-old with a stomach full of butterflies again.

The urge to part her lips, to kiss him back struck her with a ferocity that made her lightheaded.

She slid her hands up his chest, clinging to his shirt to keep herself upright. Though there was no real danger of falling, not with the way he’d backed her up against the door.

Ian lifted his head a tiny bit. “You always were so damn sweet. Open your mouth for me, Sarah. I’ve got to taste you.”

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Again, she shook her head, couldn’t manage any reply except a small whimper. He used it. Once more his mouth took hers and his tongue slid past her parted lips. The moment his tongue touched hers the fight left her.

Just one more time, she bargained with herself. One more time to remember how good they’d once been.

Clinging to him now, she met the teasing flicks of his tongue with hesitant strokes of her own. Tasting him.

Heat and need spread through her blood like wildfire. Catching and crackling, making every part of her come to life in a way that hadn’t been matched in eleven years.

Pleasure exploded through her when he slid a large palm past her scarf and into the V neckline of her dress. The sensation of his calloused hand cupping her breast had her nipple hardening instantly.

His growl of appreciation rumbled between them as he squeezed her flesh. He seemed to be eager to rediscover her shape and texture. His hand squeezed and lifted her breast, strong fingers swept in to pinch her nipple.

Sparks lit up in her head and she cried out, her knees most definitely buckling now.

So wrong. She knew it deep in her heart. This was so very wrong. It was nothing but lust at its deadliest. And because it had been so long since she’d experienced passion, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. Even with the reminder banging down her conscience at just how much was at stake. At how horribly he’d hurt her before.

An ache grew between her legs and she could feel her flesh slicken. The need made her want to do all kinds of crazy things. Hike up her dress and just jump him. Wrap her legs around his waist—ignore the consequences—and just let her hormones rule her mind.

Right now she wasn’t a stressed-out mom wondering how she was going to pay her rent and the lawyer. She was a woman who had needs that had been far too long ignored.

That’s the only reason you’re feeling like this.
The voice of reason managed to infiltrate her cloud of lust, but it didn’t make her pull away.

When Ian’s mouth lifted from hers, she nearly pulled it back down, but then she realized where it was headed and moaned low in her throat.

He tugged the stretchy fabric of her dress to the side and pulled the breast he’d been exploring free from her bra. His head swooped down, just before she felt the wet heat of his mouth close over her nipple.

A cry ripped from her throat and she arched into him, driving her fingers blindly into his hair.

So good.

Ian grabbed her waist with one hand, pulling her closer to him. Then she felt the nudge of his knee between her legs as he moved his other hand beneath her dress and up her thigh.

He brushed his fingers over the heated flesh between her legs—was just starting to slip beneath her panties—when a loud pounding had him stilling.

“Hey, boss. Someone’s here to see you,” a muffled voice called through the door.

Ian lifted his head and locked gazes with her. The heat in his eyes had her mouth drying up.

She fully expected him to let her go and answer the door, but instead he slipped a finger beneath her panties and didn’t even hesitate before he thrust it inside her body.

“Ian.” She gave a strangled whisper of protest, and then bit her lip hard enough to nearly draw blood so she wouldn’t cry out in pleasure.

“Tell them to go the fuck away. I’m busy.”

When a wolf is hot for a witch, the sparks can be downright dangerous.

Hecate’s Own

© 2013 Dana Marie Bell

Heart’s Desire, Book 2

Zachary Beckett has finally done something right. He saved his brother’s life, and his reward is a ticket to Cleveland to train as a witch. Except every spell he casts wreaks havoc—until he’s banished to the children’s classroom.

At least his teacher is easy on the eyes. It isn’t long before the heat is rising, and it has nothing to do with a bubbling cauldron.

Jo has never met a walking Karma bomb like Zachary. His blue eyes haunt her, his body is made for sin, and his magic? The less said about that the better. But Jo is determined to help him, even if she has to fight their mutual attraction, tooth and nail.

When Zach discovers he’s been operating under a hex, he and Jo come together in a blazing-hot ritual to break its hold and reveal Zach’s destiny to fight evil. But the old enemy who cast the spell won’t give up until every Beckett male is stripped of his mate. Which could leave Zach to howl in agony forever—and doom Jo to a fate worse than death.

Warning:  This novel contains explicit sex, graphic language, a sexy, awkward, blue-eyed wolf-witch and a woman who can make his dreams come true.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Hecate’s Own:

“Good evening, class.”

Zachary Beckett winced and turned to face the woman entering the room behind him.

Holy crap.
Not her. Not Johra Yashodhar. Please, Lady?

Apparently the Lady was not in the mood to hear one screwed-up witch’s prayer, because Johra walked into the room in tight jeans and a sweater that hugged her every abundant curve.

He envied that sweater something fierce.

“Good evening, Miss Yashodhar,” the children echoed around him. Zach didn’t repeat it. He was too busy trying to roll his tongue back into his mouth. His wolf stirred under his skin, peeking curiously at the woman in front of them.

Those dark brown eyes zeroed in on him, the lone adult in a group of children. Nothing showed in them. If she knew who he was she was doing a great job of hiding it. She smoothed a lock of nearly black hair behind her ear, revealing delicate, dangling gold earrings. “I understand we have an addition to our class.”

Zach did his best to ignore the giggles of the ten-year-olds surrounding him. He kept his eyes on the vision of loveliness standing near the chalkboard.

If he had to be humiliated this way at least the view was nice.

Her lips twitched. “Why don’t you stand up and tell the class something about yourself.”

Zach gulped and stood. He’d hated school to begin with, and now he was being forced to relive it after work three nights a week. It was the YMCA craft club from hell.
What did I do to deserve this?
“My name is Zachary Beckett. I’m from Pennsylvania, and I’m the son of wizards.” That did it. Emotion shone in those incredible eyes of hers for all of two seconds.

He was pretty sure it was contempt.

He’d gotten that a lot from the witches here ever since they’d learned who he was. Apparently Lana was right. Witches did
not
hold wizards in high esteem. He just hadn’t expected to have it thrown in his face so blatantly. The witches here ran the gamut from cold to downright hostile. They would close ranks against him, leaving him left out of just about everything. Hell, the Prince had found him a rental for the duration. He’d been grateful when Roland first told him about it.

Then he’d learned exactly how far away it was from the rest of the magical community.

Zach cleared his throat. “I’ve been at the court now for—” he did a quick mental check, “—a month. I’ve learned a lot.”
Not.
Nothing he’d tried so far had worked, and he was rapidly developing a reputation as a screw-up here too. Johra
had
to have heard of him, being one of the witches willing to teach pupils, but she gave no sign that she had. Damn it.

A small girl with bright gold pigtails snickered behind her hand.

Apparently she’s heard of me.
He sighed. “I’m the first Beckett witch ever.” And according to his soon-to-be sister-in-law, Lana, one of the strongest witches she’d ever met. Now if only he could get that to translate into real, working spells rather than spectacular explosions of the graphite kind. The Lodge’s cleaning crew was
still
complaining about that. “I work for a graphic arts design firm as an artist.” He shrugged, giving the teacher his best “aw shucks” smile. “That’s pretty much it.”
Other than I’m single, disease free, and I think I want to you to have my babies.

Miss Yashodhar waved her hand. “Thank you, Zachary. Please take your seat.”

“Zach.” He sat, squeezing behind the small desk. He felt like a complete and utter dork.
Talk about a nightmare.

She nodded, but didn’t otherwise respond. She crossed her hands in front of her, every inch the stern teacher. “My name is Johra Yashodhar, and I’ll be teaching this class for the next few months. Welcome to the novice class.”

Zach blinked. The
novice
class? He’d been told he’d be getting a new trainer, but no one mentioned it was the
novice
trainer! He could feel the heat crawling up his cheeks at the subtle insult he’d been dealt. True, he’d screwed up under the few teachers willing to take him on, but he hadn’t screwed up
that
badly.