Stark Naked (11 page)

She managed to make it over to the bed on unsteady legs and sat down, but well out of reach of his hand. “What?”

He gestured at the nightstand and the bed. “I brought it all, Reenie. The champagne. The roses. The chocolates. And a couple of other things. Pick up that box. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it balanced on my stomach anyway. Go ahead. It won’t bite. I promise.”

She reached out a tentative hand and lifted it off his body, put it in her lap and just stared at it.

“You have to open it,” he told her, his mouth kicked up in that grin again.

She untied the bow very slowly and lifted up the top. Inside was a little black book and a small velvet pouch. She opened the book first and her jaw dropped as she flipped through it. Every page was filled, but they all had her name written on them. All of them.

“What is this?” she asked.

“I told you I didn’t have a little black book, but I got one and put your name on all the pages. Just so there wouldn’t be any mistake about who I’m planning on spending my time with.”

When she picked up the velvet pouch he reached out his hand and clasped his fingers around her wrist.

“Amy told me about the dreams y’all shared in college. I can’t go back and undo the hurt you’ve suffered, but I can make the rest of your life better. If you’ll take this as a start.”

She could barely get the pouch open she was so nervous. She pulled out tissue paper and when it fell open inside was a ring.

“Not a diamond,” he told her. “It’s too soon for that. But if you take this we’re on our way.”

The ring was a silver band with three raised roses on it. When she looked inside she saw
Forever
engraved in flowing script. Reenie could barely see her eyes were so clouded with tears.

“Well? Are you going to put it on or toss it back at me?”

She heard the uncertainty in his voice and it opened something in her heart. She slid it onto the ring finger of her right hand, then held it out so the light from the lamp could catch its glint. For once in her life she was speechless.

Matt sat up, knocking aside the rose petals and reaching for her. His hand caressed her jaw, stroked the column of her neck.

“I love you, Reenie. And I plan on sticking around a long time to prove it to you.” He lifted the hand with the ring and kissed it. “I’m hoping you’ll like life on a ranch. It’s a good life. You could even quit your job if you don’t want to commute and I can set up an office for you at the house. You’re talented enough to run your own web design business. But it’s whatever you want.” He paused, waiting. “So? What do you say? Take a chance on me, Reenie. On us. I love you and I think we can get to forever.”

Something that had been coiled so tightly inside her sprang free. Surely he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if he meant to screw her over. Memories of Asshole Aaron were still biting at her but she drew in a breath and took a leap of faith. Laughing, she threw herself at him.

“Yes.” She kissed his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead. “I say, yes, yes, yes. To everything. And I love you too.”

He tumbled her to the bed with him and tugged her blouse free of her slacks. “I think one of us has on too many clothes for a proper celebration.”

“Just one thing,” she warned.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I better be the only one who sees you stark naked from now on.”

He was still laughing as he stripped off the rest if her clothing.

About the Author

Desiree Holt’s writing is flavored with the rich experiences of her life, including a long stretch in the music business representing every kind of artist from country singer to heavy-metal rock bands. For several years she also ran her own public relations agency handling any client that interested her, many of whom might recognize themselves in the pages of her stories. She is twice a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of two Holt Medallion Awards of Merit, and is published by five different houses.
Romance Junkies
said of her work: “Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.”

You can find her at
www.desireeholt.com
and
www.desireeholttellsall.com

Falling for a hot guy is not in her plans. He’s got a different agenda.

Bound and Determined

© 2011 Anara Bella

Nothing much ever happens in Forsythia Falls—except the only robbery anyone can remember, which leaves Asia Smith tied up in her grandmother’s antique shop. Just her luck, her rescuer turns out to be Marcus Thorne, the single most tempting morsel of male flesh she’s ever encountered. As he unties her knots, his touch sorely tests her resolve to avoid any involvement with the male species.

A bestselling author, Marcus is used to women throwing themselves at him. Asia’s resistance to his charm is a whole new challenge, a temptation he has no intention of resisting. All he has to do is break down her defenses and get at the soft, willing woman he suspects is hiding inside.

As chance—and her meddling grandmother—throw them together, Asia tries to remember why she shouldn’t just follow her friends’ advice to jump on Marcus and ride him until she can’t see straight. In one storm-swept night, she throws caution to the wild wind and savors pleasures she’d almost forgotten.

Except some old hurts just won’t stay in the past. Marcus peels away her inhibitions with sizzling ease. But now comes the biggest challenge of all—winning her trust.

Warning: This book contains a resistant damsel in distress, a sexy-as-hell hero who can cook, adventures with rope, great food, and oodles of red-hot sex.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Bound and Determined:

The next time she was tied up, it would only be because it was
her
idea.

Asia Llewellyn Smith squirmed around trying to find a more comfortable position, but no matter what she did it just wasn’t happening. She moved this way and that, contorted herself into every conceivable position until she felt like a pretzel, but nothing worked. With a frustrated groan, she gave up on the comfort thing and flopped back against the wall.

What the hell should she do?

Her gaze scanned the immediate vicinity but there wasn’t much to see. Trussed up like a pig ready for roasting on a spit, all she could do was take in what was directly in front of her—the backside of the cash register counter in her grandmother’s antique shop.

Since she’d already checked it out thoroughly, she knew there wasn’t anything of use back here. Of course, that didn’t stop her from scouring the cubbyholes again, as if by sheer force of will something helpful would miraculously appear. But no, the slots still only held the usual paraphernalia needed for cashing out customers. It didn’t take a genius to know that neither blank receipts, paper, pens, nor ribbon were going to help her out of her current predicament. Not unless she could set fire to the paper with her nonexistent laser-beam vision and burn the ropes off her wrists. All without burning her hands to a crisp or setting the store on fire.

Yeah, right.

And to make matters worse, dust balls, lint and flakes of paper
taunted
her with their unwanted presence. Who knew it was
this
dirty in the back corners of these stupid cubbyholes?

She made a mental note to give them a good cleaning first chance she got and refocused on looking for something that might help her escape these damned ropes. But nope. Nada. No way. Wasn’t happening.

The only thing that might have helped was the pair of scissors lying just out of reach on the countertop. But since she couldn’t stand, they may as well have been in Timbuktu for all the good they did her up there.

“
Damn it.
”

In a sudden burst of complete exasperation, she wriggled and twisted her wrists and ankles with frenzied frustration until the pain from the ropes digging in was almost intolerable. With a final freaked-out flourish she gave up and threw herself back against the wall. If she ever got her hands on the creep who’d robbed the store and tied her up, he’d be sorry he’d ever stepped foot in the door.

And damn it all to hell, the stupid ropes were
still
digging in, as tight now as they’d been the last time she’d tried to loosen them a couple of minutes ago. She ignored the tiny voice that said the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again hoping for a different outcome. After all, it wasn’t crazy to try to get oneself free. It’d be crazy not to.

She slumped as much as she was able to in her current awkward position and tried to use her brain instead of her nonexistent brawn. Think, girl.
Think.
Maybe if she screamed her head off, someone walking past the store would hear her this time. It was certainly worth a try.

She took a deep breath, preparing to belt out the mother of all cries for help when the friendly tinkling of the bell over the front door of Astrid’s Antiques rang out.

Thank God.
The cavalry had arrived. “Hello! Is somebody there? I need some help over here!”

There was a slight pause and then, “Hello? Where are you?”

Oh
no
. Why’d it have to be
him
? Would
nothing
go her way today? She gritted her teeth as the deep, ultra-sexy voice tripped down her spine, zapping awake feelings she thought she’d conquered long ago. The fact that she wasn’t the least bit interested in feeling these kinds of feelings didn’t matter because there they were doing the fandango in her chest anyway.

She clamped down on the unwanted sexual awareness with a firm determination only two years of relentless stomping could accomplish. One thing she knew for sure, men were definitely overrated. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

For a moment, she was tempted not to say anything back to her would-be savior just so she didn’t have to face him in her current predicament. Fleeting hope rose. Hell, he might even go away without looking for her.

She pondered which was worse. Being hog-tied by a petty criminal or having this guy find her all trussed up? She closed her eyes and for a moment wished the earth would swallow her whole.

And then she relented.

Like it or not, being freed was more important than the humiliation of being caught in this totally stupid, embarrassing situation.

It still took her two tries to get the words out. “Over here. Behind the cash register.”

The sound of solid footsteps got closer until a handsome face, complete with square-cut jaw and electric-blue eyes peered over the top of the counter. “My God, what happened?”

Oh, hell. Even in her current jam, the man’s sex appeal zapped her right between the eyes. Just like it always did. The passage of time didn’t seem to lessen the impact either. No matter how many times she saw him. He was gorgeous beyond belief. In a rough-hewn, too-yummy-for-words sort of way that looked just as good in a suit as it did in well-worn jeans.

If you liked that kind of look, that is. Which she most assuredly did not. At all. Nuh-uh, not her.

She stomped on the lone dissident voice manifesting itself as a flicker of lust in her belly.
Who needed men anyway?

Annoyed she’d had to snuff lustful thoughts out of her head in the first place, she snapped back to attention and stiffened her spine. Metaphorically speaking that is, since she couldn’t move much so her literal spine was going to have to stay all wonky for the time being. “What do you think happened? I was robbed.”

Whoa, that came out snarky. Marcus Thorne sure did have a tendency to bring out her bitchy side. Actually, all gorgeous men had that effect on her at the best of times and this wasn’t even close to the best of times for her. But Marcus got under her skin more than any other guy ever had. He put her on red alert with a vengeance every time she saw him. Yep, Mr. Hunkorama was the last person she wanted to see. Ever. And her current vulnerable state only served to make her bad mood worse.

This was turning out to be one hell of a day. Starting with the coffee she’d spilled all over her morning paper right up to being robbed at gunpoint and trussed up like a calf ready for branding.

And as if all of that weren’t enough, her nose itched.

Not just a little bit mind you, but enough to make her eyes water. And no way in hell was she asking
him
to scratch it. She’d let her nose fall off first.

She sighed. Yep, one hell of a day. She was uncomfortable, embarrassed and just plain mad as a stepped-on hornet. Way beyond trying to be nice to anyone. Even someone who was going to save her ass.

Not when the would-be hero turned out to be the one man who was a chink in her armor. The single most tempting morsel of male flesh she’d ever encountered in her entire life. Bar none. To say she resented the effect he had on her with all her being was putting it mildly.

Hunky Boy hurried around the counter and knelt beside her. He either didn’t notice her caustic tone or chose to ignore it.

Everything is just right…until she turns his life upside down.

Jared

© 2011 Cat Johnson

Red, Hot & Blue
,
Book 4

It doesn’t take anything fancy to make Jared Gordon a happy man. A slice of his mama’s pie, a pretty girl, a well-bred horse. Life on the farm is just how he likes it. Simple. Until a big-city girl blows into town like a tornado hitting a trailer park.

Quintessentially small-town Pigeon Hollow has everything L.A. producer Mandy Morris needs for her new reality show. A smoldering deputy sheriff, a quirky diner owner and a horse farm complete with a hunky horseman. If her own instant attraction is any indication, Jared will have the female demographic glued to their sets.