Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Excerpt from Scarlet

Scarlet is available today. Click on the cover to be taken to the EC web site. 

Heather has put on a cursed dress that will only come off when she meets her true love...or so the legend goes.

Just as she was getting ready to leave, her phone rang. Knowing it might be Tasha or her mother with an answer, Heather grabbed the vibrating and chiming box out of her purse. Tasha. Good.

“Hey there.”


“How’s it going?”


Heather sighed and waited. Tasha was a great friend but she had a tendency to lean toward avoidance. Heather was more of a “face it head on” kind of girl.

“Well, did you get ahold of your mother?”

“No. Not really. I mean, I sent her an email. I’ve texted. I’ve left voicemail messages. She pretty much told me she and Nick were going off the grid for a month, and not to worry.”

“What if someone died? Or you got hurt?”

“Don’t be silly. I have ways to contact her in an emergency.”

Heather glared at her phone. “You don’t think this is an emergency?”

“No. It’s your own fault.”

Heather growled. “I get it. I’m being punished by fate. I apologize but I have to get out of this dress. I can’t run my business. I can’t live my life.”

Tasha sighed and Heather knew from the sound that her aunt was rolling her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. You wanted to prove us wrong and now you’re paying the price. I had nothing to do with it so apologizing to me gets you nowhere, except now I’ll take all your shoes out of the bags I was donating to Goodwill and return them to your closet.”

A strangled garble came out of Heather’s throat and she fought to breathe. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’ll just have to see when you get home, won’t you? When are you coming home by the way?”

“I’m here for a week.”

“How is life as a Vegas bride?”

“Kinda sucks. But—I found a guy last night who makes the dress fall off.”

“Then why are you asking about my mother?”

“Because the dress didn’t actually fall off, which was good because I was in the middle of a casino at the time, but the point is, a guy who was in this hotel made the dress fall off.”

“Ooh, so you could come home with your true love.”

Heather laughed though it was more of a sad sound than joyful. Tasha was such a romantic. She actually believed this dress revealed your one true love. Tasha had been storing the dress for years waiting for the right moment to use it.

“I doubt I’ll come home with anyone but myself but if I can find the guy, I can get out of this damn dress and that’s all that matters.”

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Crimson Contest!

On Friday, April 27, Crimson, book 1 of the “Red Panty Diaries,” comes out.  The stories center around a bridal gown that once you put it on, you can’t take it off until you meet your true love.  Once you meet your true love, the dress just kind of strips itself off, leaving you standing nothing but your panties.

The friends in these stories all have a taste for pretty underwear and in this case...different shades of red.

For my first three stories I chose: Crimson, Scarlet and Candy-Apple.

There are over two-dozen shades of red.  What’s your favorite shade?

To make it more interesting, I’ll be giving away a gift card to Victoria’s Secret so you can start your own “Red Panty” adventures.

All you have to do is leave a comment telling me your favorite shade of red.

Here’s the link to Wikipedia’s “Red” page to help you out!

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Collective Memory Excerpt (Adult)

Scene Set Up: Cayl is an alien come to earth hunting a killer. He's never experienced "senses" before. Mace is more than willing to help him out. Collective Memory is available in e-book and print from Ellora's Cave, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

The sounds of shuffling dragged Mace out of his bed and down the hall to his guestroom. He stopped by the door. Footsteps padded across creaking floorboards and back again. Cayl was obviously having a hard time sleeping. Unable to resist, Mace pressed his ear up against he door. Step, step, grunt, and what? A whimper? What the hell was going on?

Mace tapped on the door, opening it as he poked his head inside. Cayl stood in the middle of the room, moonlight streaming across the floor, his hands propped on his hips, his jeans hanging low. His shirt was gone, thrown on the floor like he’d ripped it off in a fit of irritation.

“You okay, man?”

“I do not understand how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“How do humans shut off these senses long enough to find rest?”

Mace hid his grin. So the guy was going to continue his “I’m an alien” routine. That was okay. He could play like that.

Cayl spun around and glared at him. “If I could possibly get used to the scent of the bedclothes, there is the constant hum of your food storage unit and the tree brushing against the roof.” He paused. “And if I could ignore all of that, my shaft has remained hard since we left that club making it impossible for me to sleep.”

Mace let his gaze drop to Cayl’s crotch and sure enough, there was a distinctive bulge that indicated the poor man was in some discomfort. Oh yeah. I can definitely play with that.

“How am I to correct this?” Cayl demanded.

“Correct it?”

“It’s obviously defective. I was given to understand a male’s shaft got hard when the human was preparing for intercourse. I am alone and quite obviously not preparing to have intercourse, so why is it hard?”

“You were hard at the club,” Mace pointed out.

“But Agent Denning, who is female, was present and rubbing against me.” Agent Denning? Mace had to ask Devin about that. “That was a logical explanation. The body believed it might have some chance at penetration.”

The edge of Mace’s mouth kicked up. He could almost believe this guy didn’t understand fucking. But the way he’d kissed Devin and sucked her tits…fuck, that had been hot.

Cayl’s mouth crinkled into an irritated line. “I don’t know what to do when one is alone.”

“Okay, um, you…” Hmm, how did he explain this? “You rub it. You know, put your hand on it.”

Cayl shook his head and sighed. “I tried that. Touching it only makes it worse.”

Mace’s smiled broadened into a full-blown grin.

“You have to kind of do it for a bit. It gets worse before it gets better.”

“You’ve done this?”

“Many times.”

Cayl pulled open the button fly and shoved them down, his cock popping out as it was freed and stretching long, hard and thick.

“Please show me this technique. I cannot tolerate this sensation much longer.”

Show him? Come on. You can do it. Give a hand job to the hot guy in your spare room who thinks he’s an alien.

There were all sorts of reasons why he shouldn’t do this—first and foremost being this guy might be insane—but the thick cock pushed aside the concerns. He walked across the room to where Cayl stood. Cayl’s broad chest tapered down into a ripped stomach. Hmm. Nice. Hard and firm. Thick. He shook his head when he realized he’d moved past describing his chest and returned his attention to Cayl’s cock.

Cayl tipped his head to the side as if to urge Mace to hurry. Demanding little shit. Except he wasn’t little. Not where it counted. Not anywhere.

“Well, you just…” What the hell, just do it. He reached out and curled his fingers around the base of the shaft. Cayl’s sharp inhale warned Mace it wouldn’t take much. The guy was on the edge. “You just stroke it.” He slid his hand up, tightening his grip, letting his fingers tease the round head. A garbled cry erupted from Cayl’s throat.


Cayl might be insane but he wasn’t faking the hunger. Mace gave another pump and felt a shudder run through Cayl’s body. Mace kept his eyes down and worked his hand over the thick cock, every stroke drawing a reaction from Cayl—a groan, a shiver. Fuck the guy is responsive. Strong fingers dug into his shoulder as Cayl punched his hips forward, driving his cock into Mace’s grip.

“Mace, please you must—”

Mace looked up. Cayl’s wide eyes stared back at him—a mix of panic and fear.

“Surely there is some resolution soon?”