Excerpts
Off Duty Romance
by Sable Grey
“Miss Esteban?” Marc raised his voice
slightly as he knocked again on the flimsy apartment door. “It’s
Detective Aiken.” Glancing down the dimly lit passage, Marc scowled
at the graffiti and garbage that decorated the inside of the
building. He shook his head, wishing for the umpteenth time that a
safe house didn’t always mean some derelict building in a
neighborhood that even the local police officers didn’t want to be
in after dark.
Three months, Sierra had been living
in this rat hole, he thought bitterly. She deserved better. He’d
made a point to stop by at least once a week to check on her and
ease any fears that this place might have added to the already
frightening situation she found herself in. She’d never complained.
His gaze swung back to the fading
number on the door as he heard the sound of bare feet padding across
the floor on the other side. A hand clapped against the door and he
smiled as he pictured her standing on her tiptoes to peek through
the tiny hole at him. Marc listened with approval as first the
deadbolt was released and then the rattling chain.
As the door swung open Marc’s throat
closed over the sharp breath he took. Five foot two, curves in all
the right places, and a full smile that could stop a man where he
stood, Sierra Esteban always looked breathtaking. But Marc wasn’t
prepared to see her like this with her dark hair tousled and lids
heavily veiling those chocolate brown eyes. His body hardened as he
took a quick inspection of the pink spaghetti strap top and red,
satin shorts she hadn’t bothered to pull her robe closed around.
“What are you doing here?” Sierra
rubbed at her eyes and yawned loudly. It took Marc a moment to
remember himself why he’d knocked on her door at four in the
morning. He had other things on his mind that were pleasantly taking
the place of his original reasons. Most of which included those
bronzed shapely legs wrapped around him and her full lips breathing
his name.
He blinked and spoke abruptly,
pushing back the images that filled his head as he kicked his brain
back into gear. “We may have found him.” Marc watched her eyes clear
of lingering sleepiness and widen as his words registered. “We
received an anonymous call from someone who had seen his picture on
television. We've got a team on their way to check it out now.”
Marc winced slightly as Sierra leaned
forward to grasp the doorframe with a shaking hand. The moment he’d
met her, Marc had an urge to protect her, to keep her safe from
harm. Though he’d done what he could, it wasn’t until this moment
that the woman showed any relief from the evidence of the horror
that had plagued her life, breaking the brave face she’d been forced
to wear. He glanced down the corridor but nothing stirred. There was
no one to witness her moment of weakness.
Visit Sable’s website…http://www.sablegrey.net/
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Wilderness
Man
by Gail MacMillan
“Coffee?” Two mugs of coffee in her
hands, Allison stepped out onto the front veranda of the log lodge
where Heath was replacing a rotted plank. The cold of the bright,
frosty wilderness morning raised steam from the cups and formed a
misty barrier between them.
He arose slowly, all six foot four
inches of him, into the broad-shouldered, handsomely feral creature
that he was.
“Not poisoned, is it?” he asked,
tawny eyes narrowing.
“Just how desperately do you think I
want your half of this place?” she snapped, struggling not to let
his blatant sexuality affect her. He filled out those shabby jeans
‘way too nicely for her comfort. Lord, how she hated him!
“Anyway,” she moderated her tone.
“Murdering you wouldn’t solve the problem. Your part of Gramps’
estate would go to your mother and I’m sure she’d see to it your
plans to keep this lodge and estate a pristine wilderness retreat
were honored.
“Comforting,” he muttered as he
raised his mug to his lips to take a sip. “But keeping this place
exactly as it is wasn’t my idea. It was Jack Adams’ last request and
I intend to see that it’s honored.”
“Altruistic, aren’t you?” Exasperated
she turned her back on him to gaze out at the North Passage River
flowing at full freshet past the wilderness resort her grandfather
had called The Promise. “Look!” she cried, pointing. “A pair of
Black Ducks coming back to nest! Spring really is here!”
Startled at her spontaneous reaction
to the beauty of the birds drifting down to light on a small inlet,
she stopped abruptly.
“Aha! So you’re not completely
immured to what this place has to offer! Some of Jack Adams’ blood
must still be coursing through those citified veins of yours!”
“I never said I didn’t appreciate
it.” She turned on him.
“But you’re still determined to sell the Promise, still determined
to get back to Toronto as soon as possible.” He rested his hips
against the railing and took a sip of coffee. “Back to your fancy
clothes and glossy lifestyle. I don’t think that was what Jack had
in mind for your future when he let you go away to boarding school
ten years ago.”
His insolent gaze traveled from her
spanking new L. L. Bean hiking boots up over her designer jeans and
blue cashmere sweater to her tangle of artistically cropped auburn
hair.
“Look, I know how Gramps loved this
place, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to commit myself to a
lifetime in the backwoods to protect it. I just graduated from
university...”
“Yeah, yeah, with honors, right?” He
straightened up, set his coffee on the railing, and knelt to return
to his work.
“That’s not fair!” she snapped, hands
on her slender hips as she drew herself up to all of her five foot
seven inch height. “You’re mocking my goals and you don’t even know
what they are!”
“I know they don’t include a
commitment to Jack’s plans to keep The Promise a nature preserve, a
place where people can come to relax and learn to appreciate the
outdoors,” he said and drove a nail into a plank with more force
than necessary. “I know you don’t give a damn if some developer buys
it and proceeds to cover the whole area with asphalt!”
“That’s not true! I do care! I’m just
not prepared to spend the rest of my life trying to prevent it!”
“Okay, okay. Just don’t expect me to
hand over my part of The Promise without one hell of a fight. I
might only be the son of Jack’s housekeeper, someone who probably
didn’t deserve half of his estate but, by God, I care, really care
about what happens to it.” He picked up another nail and slammed it
into the wood harder than the previous one. The entire veranda
flinched.
“Oh, cut the dramatics!” She snatched
up his cup. “You’re just incredibly lucky my grandfather needed a
housekeeper so badly ten years ago he agreed to take in her street
urchin son as part of the deal!”
Also by Gail at MSF:
The Horseman
Gail’s website…http://www.gailmacmillan.com/index.html
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Wishes and
Kisses
by Nancy Pirri
August 13,
St. Paul, Minnesota
100° in the shade
My twenty-first birthday had arrived,
and on the hottest day of the year. Unfortunately, the only thing I
had to look forward to was a drink called an Ultimate Mudslide that
my best friend, Stephanie Hanson, insisted I try. As I sat beside
her at Schwietz’s Bar on St. Paul’s lower east side, I, Angel
(Angelina to mom and dad) Marrone, am experiencing a deep feeling of
apprehension. The feeling, I was certain, would soon be followed by
a big-time case of dread.
Damn. I was certain Stephanie was
setting me up for another blind date.
Sure, I wanted to fall in love like
any normal (if there was such a thing) woman, but some of the guys
Stephanie chose for me in the past were bad boys. Stephanie adores
them. I’d had enough of them during my young, impetuous past. They
don’t impress nor appeal to me any more.
“Come on, Angel, loosen up!”
I scowled at my tall, blonde and
beautiful friend since kindergarten, her coloring and build totally
opposite of my own dark hair and eyes. We were also completely
different in size; she was tall and lanky and I was tall, not overly
plump, but a bit Amazon-ish, like Zena. I’d even been called
Zena-Warrior Princess by children in the grocery line.
I said, “I’m trying, but you know I
don’t go for the bar scene anymore.”
I’d dated, at least once, every ball
player on the Men’s Thirty and Under League during my crazy stretch
of bar-hopping days, between the ages of eighteen and twenty. (Yes,
I know the drinking age in Minnesota is twenty-one, but I’d always
been resourceful.)
“So, explain what’s in this drink and
why I have to try one,” I said.
“Cream, oh, yeah, cream for sure.”
Stephanie grinned then slid her tongue in a circle over her lips.
Now hear this: Stephanie was one of
those women who could get anyone hot, man or woman, after a move
like that.
“Stop it!” I whispered, looking
around self-consciously. “Someone might think you’re coming on to
me.”
Stephanie threw her arm around my
shoulders and let loose a big belly laugh. “You worry too much. Now
let me continue. Besides cream, there’s Kahlua and Irish cream,
bananas and, let’s not forget the most important ingredient, and a
girl’s best friend, grated chocolate.”
It sounded heavenly, even as my
stomach gurgled. I’d been up since early morning, pounding the
pavement (okay, I’m prone to clichés so give me a break) looking for
a job, not breaking for any nourishment. I knew better than to drink
on an empty stomach, but, at the moment, I don’t want to think about
it.
Harrison Photography, where I’d been
employed just six months after graduating from the Minneapolis
Institute of Arts with a bachelor of fine arts degree in photography
and media arts, had let me go. They called it a layoff but I knew
better. I didn’t meet the standards of that snooty bitch, Pauline
Harrison, the owner of the company. T.G.I.F. is all I can say, and
sleeping in Saturday morning sounds better than an orgasm at the
moment. But, then, I haven’t experienced one of those in so
long, it was tough making a comparison.
Also by Nancy at MSF:
Mélange,
Western Ways
Visit Nancy’s website…http://www.nancypirri.com
--------------------------------
The Seduction
By Lynne den Hartog
As I got off the plane the heat hit
me full in the face. Having just left the freezing cold of a typical
English winter I wasn't exactly dressed for a temperature of 85
degrees. Slipping out of my thick jumper, I pushed it into my
travelling bag.
I decided a good pair of sun-glasses
wouldn't go amiss, as the glare of the sun, reflected from the
white-washed airport buildings, made me screw up my eyes in protest.
It was the first time I had been on
holiday without my husband and kids since I'd been married, and I
felt a little apprehensive, but I didn't regret my decision. All my
life I'd put home and family first, and this was my last chance to
see something of the world. An unexpected legacy provided the funds
and, after watching a travel documentary on the BBC, I'd chosen
Puerto Rico as my destination.
The family hadn't been keen on the
idea, but, for once, I stayed adamant. To be honest, I had another
reason for wanting to get away. I needed time to consider my
marriage. My husband had never been the most romantic of suitors,
but these days he hardly seemed to notice me, and I was fed up with
being taken for granted. Mind you, I certainly got his attention
when I told him of my plan. The last few days before my departure
were filled with arguments. His annoyance would have been quite
gratifying if I thought it was because he would miss me, but I
suspected all he would miss were my services as housewife and
mother.
It certainly had nothing to do with
my services in the bedroom. That part of our life had been sadly
lacking for months, though, whether it was sex he lost interest in,
or just me, I really didn't know. It certainly didn't do a lot for
my self-esteem. After losing count of the times I'd made the first
move, only to be rejected, I gave up trying. Was I so undesirable?
I'd kept my figure, even after three kids, and, although, at
thirty-five, no longer in the first flush of youth, I thought myself
still pretty attractive. Obviously, though, not to him. The more I
thought about it, the more the idea of getting away appealed to me.
Old clichés, like, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder,' popped
into my head. Perhaps that could be true for both of us. I hoped so.
After clearing customs I looked
around for a taxi. Listening to the Spanish speaking voices, I
wondered if they were really as excited as they sounded.
A taxi stopped and the driver helped
me in with my bag. He spoke excellent English, and his first comment
was to ask what a beautiful woman was doing on holiday without a man
beside her? I realized, to my amusement, that he was flirting with
me. It wasn't the type of remark you would get from an English taxi
driver, who would be too worried about getting a slap in the face,
but I wasn't offended. Actually, more flattered. I couldn't remember
the last time I'd been called a beautiful woman, and, although I
realized that it was just a game to him, I didn't let that spoil my
enjoyment.
When we arrived I made sure to give
him a big tip, my reward being a huge grin and the hope that I would
have a great vacation.
Visit
Lynne’s website…http://dutchhutch.com
--------------------------------
Hired Hand
by Bridget Midway
“Are you sure she’s okay with this?”
Jared asked Samantha as they stood on their porch.
After flashing a reassuring smile at
her husband, Samantha looked down at their young landscaper, the
woman who had captured his interests…and hers.
“I’m positive,” Samantha said,
revealing her carnal need with her throaty response.
After trimming up the topiary beside
their front door, Eva, their landscaper, crawled around on her hands
and knees at the front porch to collect the fallen leaves. Her long,
silky chocolate brown hair, bound in a ponytail, cascaded over her
sunbathed shoulder.
Wearing a tank top and shorts,
Samantha couldn’t help but admire how Eva’s naturally dark skin
glistened in the mid-morning sun.
A thin waist topped the woman’s
rounded ass. And stemming from the bottom of her cut-off shorts were
two long and strong legs. Well-worn working boots covered her feet.
Eva reached forward to retrieve more
leaves and lawn debris. Her firm, apple-sized breasts made hardly
any movement as she jutted forward and back.
Looking at the protrusion in Jared’s
tan slacks, Samantha surmised he had the same intense feeling about
this sexy Aztec princess. Who knew her clean-cut golden boy husband
would want to get down like this? Samantha had to keep pinching her
thigh to remind herself that, although she wanted this as much as
Jared, that this was all his idea, not hers.
Returning her gaze to the kneeling
sexy being, Samantha cut her eyes over to the thin strip of fabric
that covered her landscaper’s pussy. So short were the woman’s
shorts that Samantha saw one pink pussy lip peeking out through the
fringed fabric.
Samantha licked her lips. Her heart
pounded and the feeling made her reach her hand out to her husband’s
and clasp it as though she needed to stabilize herself. Jared
squeezed her hand then let an obscene chuckle rumble in his throat.
“Her,” Samantha began once she gained
some composure. “It has to be her.”
Eva gathered the leaves in both of
her hands, stood up, and sauntered to the couple. Samantha loved
watching Eva’s smooth, muscled cinnamon-colored legs in motion. She
didn’t walk with her head down. Oh no. Not this sensual creature.
Visit Bridget’s website…
http://www.bridgetmidway.com/
Also by Bridget Midway at MSF:
Corporate Desires.
Corporate Seduction
--------------------------------
The Triangle
By
Jinx Williams
New York, June 2006
Lani Hope finished packing her
suitcase. She tried closing it, to no avail. With a burst of
laughter, she hopped on top of the bulging case, using her weight to
help. With a slight click, she locked it.
“I'm surprised your fat ass didn't
dent it,” her year-younger brother of twenty-five teased her. Scott
looked similar to Lani; both had light blue eyes, freckles and dark
red hair. But unlike her, Scott kept his hair short. Hers hung a
little below her waist. His build, tall and muscular, contrasted
with her average height and very slightly overweight build.
“Be nice to me or else,” she glared
at him. Letting her look soften, she gestured to her suitcase and
batted her eyelashes at him, asking sweetly, “Scotty? Bestest
brother in the world, take that to the hall, please?”
He picked up the case and lugged it
down the stairs to the door. “Or else what?” he called back.
“Or else I won't let you stay here
while I'm gone. You'll have to go to Mom's.” Lani grinned, knowing
already what his reaction might be as she headed toward her front
door where her brother looked at her with a pathetic expression.
Their parents had divorced, and Mom had remarried. Lani liked her
stepfather, but her mother tended to be overbearing. While Scott’s
apartment received a new coat of paint and a new rug, he asked if he
could stay here while Lani went on vacation.
“God no, Lani! Don't. Mom might make
me take out my earrings or scowl at my new tattoo.” Scott got on his
knees and grabbed the end of her shirt. “Please. I told you I would
watch Cujo and Killer for you. I will even do Killer's litter pan.”
“Oh, get up, you drama queen,” she
laughed at her brother.
“Hey now. I’m
no queen.” Her brother stood up. “Mom's on a rampage again. 'You all
are going astray. You, Scott, should go back to college. And that
sister of yours needs to find a good man and have hundreds of
babies,'“ he mimicked their mother.
Lani closed her eyes and shook her
head, “Not the babies speech again. I was wondering why she called
me yesterday.”
“Yeah. She even said that Shelly was
a nice young woman. She wants to see us married off.” Shelly and
Scott had just broken up. Lani knew he did not want to settle down,
but Mom, along with Shelly, thought he should. Lani had heard him
try to explain to Shelly many times that he was not ready, so it
came down to breaking up with her.
Lani’s
Rottweiler came prancing over, giving Scott a loud growl. Her
brother knelt down and growled back at the dog. The Rot took an
attack position and readied to pounce.
“Cujo, no!” Lani scolded the dog
just before he pounced on her brother, but, of course, neither
listened.
Scott played roughly with the dog.
Lani laughed at the sounds her brother made. At one point, Scott
pretended to be hurt and made a bunch of whining noises. The dog
immediately stopped playing and inspected him to see where he was
hurt, all the while wagging his stub of a tail. Scott laughed and
flipped the dog on his back so he could rub his belly. One of Cujo's
rear legs kicked the air.
“Found the itchy spot,” he grinned.
Lani bent down and picked up Killer,
her multi-colored tabby. Being a spoiled cat, she acted like she was
the queen of the apartment. She regally looked down on Scott and the
dog, twitching her tail, as if disgusted. Lani decided to name her
Killer because she was anything but. One time, a mouse ran around
the apartment for weeks, and Killer watched it with no interest
whatsoever. “Males of any species are so weird,” she told the cat as
she scratched her ear, rewarded by a loud purr.
“And don't you forget it,” Scott
jumped up and grabbed Lani's jacket for her. Holding it out, he made
a hurry-up gesture with his hand.
“I have to say goodbye to my
babies,” she stuck her tongue out at her brother. Lani put Killer
down and sat on her knees to look Cujo in the eyes. “You are the man
of the house while I’m
away.” Her brother snorted, but she continued. Hugging the dog, she
said, “Watch him carefully. He's housebroken, but you never know.
Keep a close eye on him.”
“I will,” replied Scott seriously.
“I was talking to the dog,” Lani
remarked. She scratched Cujo’s
ear, and he gave a little whine. “I will miss you, too.” She gave
Cujo a kiss then hopped up to pull her brother into a tight hug.
“Be careful, Lani Painy.” Scott used
his free hand to ruffle her hair. “I may be younger, but I'm a big
burly six-foot three. I think I can handle my own, so don’t
worry.” She craned her neck to see him looking down at her with
concern. She stood about a foot shorter, and he liked to tease her
about her height by resting his arm on her head.
“I will be careful, too, and don’t
you worry. Take care of them and yourself. And if Mom calls, tell
her I'll call her after I land.” Picking up her luggage at the sound
of the taxi's horn, she gave her brother a swift kiss and a
one-armed hug. He handed over her jacket and shooed her out the
door.
“Everything will be here when you
come back…well,
except the food.” Scott smiled and rubbed his flat stomach.
“Yeah, and I got you deep dish
pepperoni too, Bottomless-Pit.” Bottomless-Pit. With the amount of
food he ate, he should weigh at least five hundred pounds, not a
little over two hundred pounds as he did. Lani always had to watch
her weight. She exercised regularly but remained curvy, not that she
minded too much.
“I'll make sure to clean out the
fridge as well as your cereal closet.” He grinned when she rolled
her eyes. “Love you, Pain. Call me when you get there. I'll take
good care of the wild beasts.”
Lani carried the heavy suitcase to
the waiting taxi. The driver quickly got out, took the burden,
tossing it into the trunk. Waving at Cujo who looked out the window,
a devastating feeling washed over her. What if I never see any of
them again? Stories of strange happenings in the Bermuda
Triangle haunted her mind momentarily. The feeling left as quickly
as it came. Lani shook the thoughts away. In twenty-four hours, she
would be lying on the sandy beaches of Bermuda, and not in the early
summer of New York. What could she possibly have to worry about?
Visit Jinx's website...http://www.freewebs.com/nicolejinxwilliams/
Also by
Jinx
Williams in these digests:
Demons, Dungeons & Devilish Delights,
Legends of Love
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