Get sexy on a Sunday #SexySnippets from Unexpected Storm, hang onto summer #eroticromance

Sexy Snippets comes to you from 

http://thenuthousescribblers.blogspot.co.uk/p/sexy-snippets.html

Sexy Snippets are seven sentences, taken from a work in progress, or published book, brought to you every Sunday. If you want to join in the fun, sign there.

From, Unexpected Storm, seven sexy sentences...

His breathing quickened.

She enjoyed making him breathless. She dragged his shorts down over his hard bottom with one hand, holding his cock carefully with the other. His shorts down around his thighs, she grasped his cock, curling her fingers possessively around the shaft. She wriggled the other hand between his thighs and bit gently around his nipples. She rested her head against his muscled chest and stroked his cock.

Will’s gasps quickened.

Copyright Elodie Parkes 2014 Secret Cravings All Rights Reserved

Hang onto summer with a sizzling romance

Unexpected Storm , 99 cents http://a-fwd.com/asin-com=B00L6EZKJU

Secret Cravings  AllRomance Barnes and Noble Siren Bookstrand

Hop to the next #SexySnippet

1. Doris O'Connor	2. Raven McAllan
3. Elsa Holland	4. Catherine Winther
5. Elizabeth Morgan (My World)	6. Kiru Taye Writes
7. Ashe Barker	8. Rose Anderson - Calliope's Other Writing Tablet
9. Elyzabeth M. VaLey	10. Daisy Banks Blog
11. elodie parkes erotic romance

Emily Wood visits today with her new #BeachwalkPress release, 'Let It Burn' and tells us what's behind the scenes of her story

Hello everybody! Thank you for stopping by to read about my new release Let It Burn…

Sometimes one person can make you question everything you thought you wanted.

Lydia James is a struggling scriptwriter with big dreams. She's determined to conquer the movie world, and equally determined to stay out of the limelight while she does it. So what happens when she meets Ryan Sharpe, a British actor and Hollywood's next big thing? He could hold the keys to her future, but with him, flying under the radar doesn't seem to be an option.

Ryan has learned his lesson when it comes to women. In his experience, relationships mean heartache and pain. But when he meets Lydia, everything changes. She's a breath of fresh air, and everything he didn't even know he was looking for. There's just one problem—she doesn't want to be a part of his life. Will a weekend in Saint-Tropez give Ryan the opportunity he needs to win Lydia's heart, or will their desires turn to ashes?

Content Warning: explicit sex

Excerpt

"So what is it about the party that you're so desperate to avoid, Lydia James?"

She sucked a breath in and blew it out slowly. She didn't miss Ryan's eyes flickering to her breasts as her chest heaved. They lingered there for a moment.

"Honestly, I'm totally out of my depth." She paused, wondering how much he would actually want to know and how much would just be a rant. She decided to go for it anyway. "I'm a writer. Or at least, I want to be. I have a story…a script. I also have an agent who brought me here to make connections. That's what he said anyway, but…he's been hinting that he expects to get something out of this, if you get what I mean."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Obviously, I would never do that. But how the hell do I get out of this? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get an agent?" She remembered who she was talking to. "Of course you do." And then she looked at him again—he probably had exclusive rights to Hollywood based on his jaw-dropping good looks. Even mere mortals like directors and producers bowed down to gods. "So my problem is how do I get out of this without him blackening my name forever?"

Ryan's face had been a picture of amusement since the moment he'd turned on the light. But suddenly something far more dangerous danced in his eyes, although he was obviously struggling to hide it. A thrill shocked her whole body before finally settling in her lower abdomen.

"The damage has been done," Ryan said. His voice was slow and tight. "You can kiss your agent goodbye. Not literally though. I'm afraid the industry is rife with people like that, and if he doesn't take you seriously now, then no offense, but no amount of sexual favors are going to change his mind."

The blush that had colored her cheeks earlier was nothing compared to the heat that filled them under Ryan's angry gaze. Her skin was suddenly so hot that it made her eyes water. She felt dirty and ashamed, and she hadn't even done anything. Jesus, she wouldn't have even dreamed of doing anything with that man out there.

"I already knew that," she snapped. "I came in here to get away. But how do I… Whatever I do now I'll offend him."

The anger in Ryan's face melted away enough for mischief to creep in. He stood up, walking over to her in a slow, deliberate way that had her heartbeat doing the exact opposite. She pressed her back against the door as he approached. He was even more captivating up close. A tiny corner of her consciousness worried about what he intended to do while the rest of her screamed approval at all of the naughty things racing through her mind.

But of course, she wasn't in a fairy tale, and heartbreakingly handsome actors didn't kiss lowly dreamers like herself. He stopped short, his perfectly sculpted lips moving to breathe in her ear rather than meet her own. Lydia let her eyes flicker closed, his intoxicating, spicy scent threatening to turn her into a puddle at his feet.

"If the only man who could make your career is about to drop you, then there's only really one thing to do."

"What's that?" Lydia managed to croak, painfully aware of how close she was to touching heaven.

"Make sure everybody else knows your name."

Buy Links

Beachwalk Press - http://beachwalkpress.com/let-it-burn/

Getting Away with Romance

I live in Wales. For those of you who have no idea where that is, let me sum it up as quickly as I can, a tiny country in Britain where it rains A LOT! Yep, that’s pretty much our most realistic defining feature, we’re lucky to get two, maybe three weeks of real, hot sunshine a year. So you can understand why two of my four published stories have involved jet setting to another country… a warmer one.

Let It Burn was new for me, because it wasn’t drawn from my experiences of travel. The location was born from me looking out the window on a windy, wet winters day, when the heating was playing up again, and wishing that I was somewhere warm. So I did a little imaginary travelling. I really wish I lived the kind of lifestyle where I could just grab my passport and a suitcase and go explore somewhere new and exciting for a weekend, but since I can’t, I let my character Lydia James have that pleasure.

I have children, so even if I did manage to scrape some pennies and courage together to get us all on a plane, I’d be heading somewhere with children’s club and family entertainment in the evening. So I wondered where I’d go if it was just me and hubby. I wanted to steer clear of the common romantic getaways, since I wanted Lydia and Ryan’s relationship to start off a little more subtly. A business trip to Saint- Tropez, a place where move stars and normal people mingle? Perfect. And that was how Let It Burn started forming!

So we have movie star Ryan, and scriptwriter Lydia, we have palm trees, white sands, blue skies and clear waters, in a place that looks like this:

What could possibly go wrong? 

About Author

I have always believed that the best stories are the ones that you can't put down, the ones that transport you to a different place and make you believe in the characters. This is exactly why I write… I have always loved the escapism that reading and writing provides, and there is nothing more exciting than imagining your own set of characters, and then letting them practically write the story for you. Writing has always been a dream of mine, and I'm lucky to have the kind of people around me that have always nurtured and encouraged my passion.

I live a cozy little life in Wales, and when I'm not writing I'm taking care of my young family, and studying for a degree in Classical Studies. I love traveling to new places, meeting new people, and experiencing new things…it's all great inspiration for my books!

Author Links

Blog: www.emilywoodauthor.blogspot.co.uk

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoremilywood

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EmilyWoodAuthor

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/emilywoodauthor/

Highland Burn from guest author Victoria Zak

Will Love’s Flame Quench the Dragon’s Fire? …

The past never stays in the past, it rears its ugly head eventually. James the Black Douglas knows this all too well. With a past that has left him vengeful and his dragon blood thirsty, his reputation as a ruthless warrior haunts his enemies in their sleep. As his allegiance stands with Robert Bruce, the King of Scotland, he must now repay a debt to the king and agrees to marry his daughter, Abigale Bruce. The problem is he doesn’t want a wife. When flames start to burn out of control between him and the auburn-haired lass, he must decide to either kindle the flames of passion or shelter her from the truth and set her free.

It’s What Shines in the Dark That Brings Forth Your True Light…

Determined to keep his daughter safe and out of the hands of the English, Robert hides Abigale behind the safe walls of a nunnery. After eight long years of living her life in seclusion, Abigale is finally set free. But her new found freedom comes to an abrupt halt when she learns of her betrothal to the infamous Bogeyman – James the Black Douglas. She soon finds herself falling in love with the uncontainable and haunted man. Is her love enough to soften his hardened heart?

 

AMAZON KINDLE US – BARNES & NOBLES NOOK – GOODREADS

Read an excerpt

Chapter one

“Fergus, the water is verra refreshing. Why don’t ye join me?” The white stallion inhaled deeply then snorted, as he ate from a patch of lush green grass. “Well, ye dinnae have to be rude about it.” Long white hair with streaks of gray fell over his muscled neck as the fine steed shook his head and stomped his hoof. He pulled on a blade of grass, indicating that he was perfectly content grazing near the loch’s edge. A slight giggle escaped her mouth as she splashed at her horse. Abigale Bruce had ridden hard and fast through the glen most of the morn. Since her father’s recent successful victory over the English at the battle of Bannockburn, Abigale had been freed from the nunnery. Her excitement of finally being able to explore her new-found freedom was too much to hold back as she charged through the forest. Now she rewarded Fergus with a patch of grass while she cooled off in the loch. Oh how she cherished these moments; they were few and far between. Eight long years at Dunfermline Abbey wasn’t the ideal place to grow up, but she had no choice in the matter. Her father, Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, had placed her there in order to keep her safe from his enemy, the English. Throughout her time at the Abbey, King Edward, the King of England, had gotten close to capturing her a few times, but the small secretive community of nuns had held true to their oath and kept her hidden well. Unhappy about the newly crowned King of Scotland, the English had captured Abigale’s step-mother, half-sister, and her two aunts, and had also beheaded three of her uncles. Humiliated, held prisoner behind iron bars of a bird cage, and hung from the Tower of London had been the women’s fate. Even though her freedom was taken away, Abigale knew it was nothing compared to what they had endured. Abigale’s trouble had started as soon as she walked through the gates of the abbey. Robert Bruce had given Dunfermline Abbey a generous contribution to repair part of the church that had been attacked by King Edward. In return he requested that Abbot Benard take his daughter in and protect her. With such a gracious amount of coin given, the Abbot could not refuse. Therefore Abigale, at the wee age of ten, had been left at the abbey and placed in the cruel hands of Abbess Margaret. Since Abbess Margaret was in charge of twelve nuns, she declared she had not the time to look after the wee brat, so she left Sister Kate in charge of Abigale. Abbess Margaret was a beautiful middle-aged woman with short, raven hair, and possessed the ability to inflict the cruelest of punishments. She watched and waited for Abigale to slip up so she could take pleasure in punishing her. Abigale knew why the woman hated her; she was jealous and thought it unfair that she had special treatment just because she was the king’s daughter. Abigale was afforded a few exceptions to the rules. Because of her lack of interest in taking the vow to become a nun, she didn’t have to cut her hair like the other sisters. Furthermore, she could marry, and own property. Although there was one rule that had to be followed; she had to be obedient. And Abbess Margaret took great pride in punishing a disobedient Abigale. Sending Abigale on a daily pee pot cleaning always seemed to make the corners of her thin lips twitch. “Ye’re no princess, a bastart child who her own father has abandoned." After a few missed visits from her father and daily tongue lashings from Abbess Margaret, Abigale started to feel pushed aside and abandoned, yet her spirit held firm. Sister Kate had kept a watchful eye on Abigale, keeping her work-load full so she would stay out of trouble, but trouble seemed to follow her wherever she went as if she was born into it. Abbey life wasn’t the life for her. She grew to hate the prayer bells, for they rang eight times during the day starting at the wee hours of night. The blasted bell would ring either when she was sound asleep or assisting a monk in surgery. More times than not she was late to prayer and being tardy was frowned upon. The consequences were harsh, in fact they were harsher than falling asleep during worship. Abigale knew this all too well; she had fallen asleep in a choir stall one night. Sister Kate had been the circator that night, pacing up and down the aisle as she shined her bright cresset lamp into the stalls checking if anyone had fallen asleep. A sharp point with a stick to her ribcage had woken Abigale up quickly. Of course she got a rap on the legs for that one. Thank God it was Sister Kate, for she showed her mercy. Now that she was home, her father was more than ever adamant about keeping his family safe. He vowed to never allow another Bruce woman to be captured by the filthy Sassenach. Just as Abigale thought she’d regained her freedom, here she was once again with it ripped away from her by an arranged marriage to her father’s first in command. Who better to protect her than the Bogeyman himself? Trepidation crept over her, sending a shiver through her body as she thought about the man her father had arranged for her betrothal. “The Black Douglas,” she thought. A man with a reputation that would make the Devil himself shudder with fear. A ruthless warrior who had fought in many battles with her father. The English feared him terribly, making up nursery rhymes warning their wee bairns to “hush before the Black Douglas will get ye”. She’d never met the man before, but the deal was done. Her father had arranged the marriage and Abigale was to abide by his orders. Abigale turned to Fergus who was chewing on a blade of grass. “At least ye don’t have to marry the Bogeyman.” She shuddered. Saying it out loud made it all too real. For a moment she wondered just what the Black Douglas would look like. Could her father be so cruel as to wed her to an evil, battle-worn old man? Nay, who could possibly be scared of an old man? Then again, a warrior’s reputation lived on even after death. Or mayhap he really was a monster of some sort, a mythical creature of the night that lurked under your bed waiting to nip at your heels. Abigale was letting her imagination get the best of her. Shaking those thoughts from her head she dipped down into the coolness of the loch, washing away every bit of worry. Today was her day and she was going to enjoy the peace that the loch gave her before it was taken away from her. Coming back up she lay her body out flat to float on top of the water’s surface. Her light linen shift clung to her petite body, long dark auburn hair spread out and floated with the ripples of the water. Closing her eyes, she opened her arms out wide allowing her fears to fall from her body and sink to the bottom of the loch. A snapping of twigs alerted Abigale that she wasn’t alone. Quickly she dipped her body down into the water to hide from what was lurking in the woods. Panic pricked up her spine as she searched the glen’s wooded edge for some kind of movement. Nothing… no movement at all. It must be a small animal frolicking through the thicket. Another snap. This time it sounded too close and too loud to be a small animal. Abigale turned and faced Fergus. Ears pointing in the direction of the snapping sound, Fergus let out a gut deep neigh. “Ye heard that too?” she whispered, trying not to draw attention to herself. Abigale slowly moved toward the water’s edge, not making a sound. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by a wild animal or worst yet… a rogue Highlander. Dripping wet and cold, Abigale stepped out of the water and headed straight for the huge boulder covered in green moss where her dress and her dirk lay. If instincts had taught her anything, it was to never let your guard down and never leave home without your dirk. A third snap sounded like it came from behind her and way too close. Taking a steady breath, she grabbed her dirk and spun around to meet her attacker face to face. Lunging the blade forward she pointed it at his throat, the tip inches away from piercing it. “Och lass, I will no hurt ye.” A massive six-foot-four man with vibrant amber eyes stood before her with his hands up in surrender. Abigale arched a dark brow over deep blue eyes. “How do I know I can trust ye?” “I have no weapons on me… frisk me if ye dinnae believe me.” With a sly grin he turned around with his arms in the air inviting her eyes to gaze upon every inch of his muscular body. Abigale took him up on his offer, for she could not will her eyes off him if she tried. Following his every move, her body became alive. Her hands began to itch as she thought about running them down the corded muscles that lined his abdomen. Hulking arms shimmered in the sunrays as if they had been kissed by the sun and she wondered how his arms would feel wrapped around her body. As he turned around, long black hair hung over his big broad shoulders and stopped at his shoulder blades. His lower back tapered in to a firm backside which was covered in a black and gray plaid. Funny… she had a sudden urge to squeeze his buttocks. God could not have forged a more perfect man, she thought. Being ten-and-eight, innocent, and sheltered behind the walls of the nunnery, she hadn’t had much of a chance to explore the ways of men. In fact if she wasn’t praying, she was in the infirmary mending men severely wounded from battle, or ill. Sister Kate’s nagging voice reminded her that “Ye only have room for one man in yer heart and He would never steer ye wrong.” Only if Sister Kate could see this man standing before her now, even she would blush. “Ye should no be sneaking up on me like that.” Abigale lowered the dirk, but still kept her grip tight. The alluring man crossed his massive arms in front of his bare chest. “I was taking a rest while out riding when I saw ye over here. Ye know a bonny young lass like yerself should no be oot alone without an escort.” “I can take care of myself just fine.” “Aye, I can see that.” He rubbed his throat. She stood shivering from the cold or mayhap from the intensity of his gaze; she needed to retrieve her clothes before she caught her death. Then she remembered that she was wearing a thin shift. Surely he could see right through to her naked body? Quickly with her free hand she tried to cover her breasts and still have some dignity. “Would ye kindly turn around now so I can dress?" She motioned with the dirk for him to turn around. He turned, giving her privacy to dress. “That’s a fine horse ye have there,” he said over his shoulder. Abigale finished dressing and began to smooth the wrinkles out from her dress with her hands. “That’s Fergus, he’s a gift from my da. A true warhorse." Of the few times her father had come to visit her at the abbey, and there were only a few, she remembered the day when he had brought Fergus to her as a gift. A gift perhaps but more like a peace offering for being absent for over a year. Abigale forgave her father, and the white charger quickly became more than a horse, he was a friend. “Ye may turn around now.” As Abigale glanced up, her heart skipped a beat as amber eyes pierced her, sending a rush of heat through her body. She licked her lips and struggled to swallow past a dry throat. How could this man, who she had never met before, make her hunger for something that she had not yet had? Feeling uneasy, she broke their stare and quickly searched for her shoes. “Are ye a Highlander?” What kind of a question was that? Of course he was a Highlander… that was a plaid he wore. Way to go, Abigale Bruce, he must think I’m a real dunderhead. “Why do ye ask?” “That is a plaid ye wear? “Abigale leaned against the boulder and bent down to slip her shoes on.” “Aye.” “Then ye must be a Highlander.” Indeed the ways of Highlanders were much different from the English-influenced ways of lowland men like her father. Still both parties had fought for Scotland until the crown and riches were in their grasp. Some would say that greed was the root of all evil. Abigale thought differently. The crown was the root of all evil. Men fought for it, killed for it, and sold their souls for a taste of the crown and the power it held. The crown grew evil in men and she knew that all too well because it was her father's own greed for the crown that left her abandoned at the abbey. The unsettled nature of Scotland had left Abigale hardened. She’d seen firsthand the aftermath of battles fought; mended wounds, prayed over dead bodies, and even buried the dead. The nunnery where she grew up would set up tents to aid those wounded in battle. Abigale would assist in surgery and her passion grew for healing the sick and mending wounds. Life was to be valued, not destroyed. In a way she blamed Lady Scotland for her misfortunes. Her father’s growing need to fight for Scotland had caused her to stay hidden, conceal her true identity, and grow up without a family. Her whole family had been affected by the battles fought for Scotland and the greed of claiming the crown. Though it was true she had long forgiven the Lady; she could not forget. The Highlander seemed far away in thought, because he took a while to answer. “Some would say I’m a Highlander.” He approached Abigale. "May I?” The beautiful stranger reached for a piece of hair that was stuck to her face and tucked it behind her ear. He brushed a callused finger down her cheek to her slender neck leaving a fiery path trailing behind. He held her stare and captivated her to the point that she could not form a coherent thought. Her body was no longer hers to control, her heart dropped, and desire pooled in her core setting her body on fire. This Highlander was so close to her she could feel his breath on her skin, she could smell his masculine scent and soon she wanted to taste his lips. The mysterious man lowered his head, cupped his hand behind her neck, and pulled her close to him to claim her lips. Abigale drew in a deep breath in anticipation when suddenly a nudge from behind broke her trance. She turned to find Fergus. “Fergus!” she scolded. “What’s gotten into ye?" Another nudge by a wet gray muzzle almost sent Abigale to the ground until strong arms caught her around the waist. “I got ye lass,” he whispered in her ear. For some odd reason the deep rich tone of his voice soothed her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and leaned back against the warmth of his body. Wait… what was she doing? Abigale Bruce, you are to be married. Quickly she slipped away from his hold and began to gather up the leather reins. “I should be getting back.” 

AUTHOR BIO

Victoria Zak lives in the sunshine state with her husband, two beautiful children, and three furry friends. Before having kids, Victoria spent fifteen years in the veterinary business and volunteered in pet rescue.

“One of my most rewarding jobs was finding unwanted animals their forever homes.” A writing career was the last item listed on her bucket list, until she discovered that she wanted to put her stories on paper and breathe life into her characters. Her love for Scotland, curiosity of history, and passion for romance has inspired her to write her first book, Highland Burn.

“Fourteenth century Scotland was a fascinating time in history. Not only was Scotland fighting for their freedom from the English king, their own people fought each other; clan vs clan. Though being a woman of the twenty-first century, I wouldn’t want to live in those unsettled times. But writing historical fiction paranormal romance allows me to escape into their world and breathe a fresh air of romance and magic into that era, which I love to do.”

Victoria loves to hear from her readers. You can connect with her through FB, Twitter, G+, and her website.

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE FACEBOOK PROFILE - TWITTER – GOOGLE+ - GOODREADS

 

Tour giveaway

One e-book copy of Highland Burn

a Rafflecopter giveaway
Tour Organized By:

A strangely named place, a tantalizing signpost, and she's lost to her curiosity #MWTease #shifters #menage

From Swoop On Love an Evernight menage release #MWTease 

Swoop on Love

Lured to the place by its intriguing name, Jeanie was to find no owls lived there, but someone or thing does…will she realize before it’s too late?

Suspense…shifters…sex…and love

Jeanie explores her new neighborhood and finds a strange little road leading to a place with an intriguing name. Owlswick. It’s Saturday and she has no plans, as usual, why not drive down this road? What she finds there is even more fascinating than the place name, and to her delight, a very attractive man lives there. Too bad he’s furious with her for taking a photograph. Why is that? What will Jeanie find when she checks the picture out at home later?

A love story, graphic sex scenes and a twist of fantasy suspense, 18+

Buy the book:

http://www.amazon.com/Swoop-on-Love-ebook/dp/B00GBPT1CG

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Swoop-Love-Elodie-Parkes-ebook/dp/B00GBPT1CG

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-swooponlove-1334831-340.html

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/swoop-on-love-by-elodie-parkes/

http://www.bookstrand.com/swoop-on-love-mfm

Read the tease:

They fell into each other’s arms. Nathan pulled her close and kissed her softly. Jeanie responded to him. She pressed against him with such passion it filled him with a longing he’d not experienced for many years. He drew back from her and rested his forehead against hers. They breathed against each other for a moment before Nathan kissed her again. Down her neck, across her throat, up to her ear, where he lingered and whispered, “You’re so lovely.”

She pushed closer and he cupped her bottom, pulling her in so that she could feel his cock hard against her. It felt so good to press against her, that he lost himself in kissing her. He nibbled her bottom lip. At her gasp of desire, his stomach clenched and his cock jerked. He slid his tongue against hers and kissed her until he couldn’t breathe. Her body felt so right against his, and he savored the taste of her lips, the softness of her ass in his hands. His heart pounded and although he hadn’t set out to, he wanted it all to be real. He thrust against her, ramming her back against her car. She clung to him, murmuring low sounds of pleasure. His cock was so hard he thought he might come right then when she smoothed her hands down the back of his thighs, leaving a trail of heat through his jeans.

He wondered how he could get her to take him home and pushed her T-shirt up so that he could kiss her breasts. He trembled at the thrilling thought of having her nipples in his mouth, and he pulled the lace cup of her bra away. He kissed her lips then left them to swoop on her exposed breast. He opened his mouth to have as much of her breast in there as possible, and closed his eyes as he sucked. His cock strained against his zipper, and with a low moan, he stopped sucking her breast.

She clutched at his head. He kissed her open mouth sucking in the tip of her tongue as it met his. Then she was opening his jeans. His heart beat hard in his chest. If she touched his cock he’d come because it had been so long. He groaned. All he could think of was fucking. He grabbed her hand and moved it away from his zipper. He stopped the kiss reluctantly, his eyes heavy with lust he opened them to look at Jeanie.

“Not here, we’re so close to other cars. Take me home with you.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He kissed her again, and again, raiding her mouth, biting her bottom lip, until she held his face still. He was losing control and the sheer lust tearing him apart shocked him. He moaned as her lips left his to answer him.

“Okay, but we have to stop kissing and get in the car to go home.”

He smiled at her and took a deep breath.

“Yes.” Nathan’s voice shook.

They let go of each other. His hand trembled as he opened the car door, then when Jeanie was inside he walked carefully around to the passenger side. He sat down and looked across at her. She watched him. Her eyes were dark. He closed his against the urge to lunge at her, and drag her face back to his to cover it with wet kisses.

She started the engine and drove slowly out of the car park. The road had few streetlights, and as they left the glow from the restaurant lights behind, Nathan leaned so that he could reach Jeanie and slipped his hand up inside her T-shirt. He found her breast still outside of the lace cup and her nipple was standing up. He smoothed his hand around on her breast. His breath quickened. He rolled her nipple between his fingertips.

She gave a small sound, an “uh” of pleasure. His cock leaked.

He unzipped her jeans, desperate to stroke along her stomach, to feel the soft V at the junction of her thighs as she drove.

She gasped as he trailed his fingers as far down to her pussy as he could.

Uncaring of safety, he unclipped his seat belt, leaning further to kiss under her ear, and then suck her ear lobe. Her low moan enticed him. He probed further with his fingers.

“Nathan, I can’t drive with you doing this.”

Her words woke him from a haze of lust.

Mercifully, they approached Owlswick. He took his hands from her. “Sorry, I need you so much now. I had to touch you. We could stop here. Go past The Art Barn, drive alongside the empty houses.”

Jeanie did as she was told and brought the car to a stop down the driveway of the furthest empty house. She switched off the engine and turned to him.

Nathan brought her face to his and kissed her urgently. “No one will see us here. Let’s get out. I’m desperate to hold you close.” His breathe came in snatches. He ached for her body against his. His desperation ate at his composure. He kissed her hard until his lips hurt.

Her kiss matched his and she bit his bottom lip.

“Let’s get out.” It was a plea through his passion bruised lips. He let her go.

She nodded and opened her car door. She turned back to him, ran her fingers along his jaw, and her touch sent waves of lust straight to his cock.

They kissed softly once more and then both got out of the car.

Copyright Elodie Parkes Evernight Publishing All rights reserved

 Hop to the next tease:

Gina Watson visits the blog today with #boxedset The St. Martin Family Saga #giveaway launch

Sizzle Book 1 in the st. martin family saga: emergency responders:

A Louisiana fireman, Clay St. Martin liked his hoses bound tight and his women bound tighter. He’d not had a traditional relationship in years and was positive he’d found the answer to all his needs and desires: The Hoodoo Pot—Baton Rouge’s elite members only sex and bondage club.

Eve Ivey had escaped the clutches of her evil ex, but still she constantly looked over her shoulder. That is, until she met Clay. At six feet five, he was a king among men. She’d certainly like to be his queen.

He’d rescued her from a hurricane’s lashing winds and rising water, but his first mistake was in bringing her home. Yet she’d had nowhere to go. A bigger mistake would have been not going back for her.

And now neither of them wanted her to leave. The only thing to do was let the storm rage outside while they focused on the personal storm raging between their bodies.

A storm that was advancing on their hearts.

Sieze Book 2 in the St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders:

Mia was in trouble.

She was alone and she was scared. She prayed for a miracle, and then she met Augustine. A Marine, turned sheriff, named after a saint.

 Augustine Roy liked his job as Sheriff of East Baton Rouge Parish. He liked the town and the town’s women, some said too much, but he’d never heard any of them complain. He wasn’t interested in monogamy, a fact most single women in town had come to understand. He loved his family and friends and when his best friend, Clay, needed his help, he jumped at the chance to use his skills as a former Marine Corps field extraction expert.

While Augie thrived when life ran calm and controlled, his current situation was anything but. Mia had entered his life and dumped it on its head. To top it off, she was so not his type. He preferred large breasted Southern blondes with experience in the sack. Mia was slim, Canadian, and to his utter disbelief, a twenty five year old virgin.

But then he’d gone and married her . . .

 . . . and then she’d passed out.

When Mia woke, she had a new name, and a new ring. She just hoped like hell she’d not missed the wedding consummation.

Surge Book 3 in the St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders:

He was twenty-eight, she was eighteen.

Everyone around them opposed their love.

But their love was much greater than the sum of their ages.

Clara’s family took Jackson in when, at the age of seventeen, he’d lost his parents. The St. Martins were the only family he had. When his connection with Clara developed into something stronger, he couldn’t feel remorseful. What he did feel was warmth, hope, and love. Ten years later it was time to tell the family—he wouldn’t let their love be a lie any longer.

When he came to live with them, Clara knew one day she’d marry him. She just didn’t know her family wouldn’t be on board with the plans. Sure, Jackson was much older than her and yeah, they’d jumped the gun on intimacy, but she’d needed Jackson’s touch that day and he’d needed hers. They planned to marry once he finished medical school, but when Clara’s brother found out about their two-year relationship he beat the good doctor’s face until he was unrecognizable.

Jackson couldn’t see a way  they could be together and she wouldn’t have to make a choice between him and her family. He knew what it was to go through life without the support of family and he wouldn’t let her choose him over the St. Martins.

Will Clara and Jackson be able to have a future together, or will her family tear them apart?

Buy the book:
TBR: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22892136-st-martin-family-saga

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/mcxr69u

B&N: http://tinyurl.com/kbeke7k

Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/n696sgz

Google Play: http://tinyurl.com/nn7fyu7

Author Bio:

I lead a double life. By day I’m training young women to become speech therapists. At night I sip red wine, dial down all distractions, and sink into the fictional worlds I create. Good tunes on my iPod are a must. I get so caught up in my characters that I truly wish the male hero would materialize in the flesh; especially when I see the cover image…I swoon.

I have spent the past several years working as a university instructor. My students are young adult females so I’m constantly running plot lines and book covers by them. They make a great beta team!  I love my job at the university but there is something I love even more. . . romance novels. I'll read any genre as long as there are steamy sex scenes and the standard issue HEA ending. Initially I was drawn in by the escape and sweeping emotion of it all, so much so, I began to create my own fictional world.

Since I worked during the day my nights were consumed with writing. I was powerless to stop the stories that wanted to be freed from my mind. I actually started to get mixed up. I would think something I wrote at night was something I had said during the working day and vice versa. My friends were worried for my sanity but I assured them I had not gone mad, I was just writing. Once I started I wrote upwards of 3,000 words per day.

It was in the early millennium when I became brave enough to share my stories with others. I began to post my stories on fiction websites and then something marvelous happened—I was followed by hundreds of eager readers. I loved my followers and their kind words helped motivate me.

These days I am writing books and I’ve learned some things about myself during the process. I like to write series novels because I have trouble letting go. I like a little plot with my romance, erotica, contemporary. Call it what you will, but I have to have a good story in which to sink my teeth. If I start writing a story I have to finish it, even if it’s terrible.

My dog is my muse and when he tilts his forehead at me and blinks his large black eyes questioningly at me, I think he is worried I've been sucked into the wormhole of the very fiction that I write. I appreciate his concern but I have yet to fall down the rabbit hole. Here's to everyone else in my boat, may our voyage become a permanent destination.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ginawatsongina
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ginawatsonauthor
Website: http://ginawatson.net/

a Rafflecopter giveaway