TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with E.D. Parr’s hot new M/M paranormal romance Hidden Magic, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine online fiction. Take it away, E.D.!
Thank you for hosting me with new release MM romance Hidden Magic.
I had this story in my head for months before I started to write it. The elf, Owain Lovage, was so clear in my imagination but not his lover to be. Rowan kept disappearing and then reforming. I knew he had to be special because Owain is so sure he can never have a human partner.
Owain is lonely but he’s a happy soul, already in love with nature and as much as Rowan stirs him as they meet, Owain is calm and takes the love poured out to him from Rowan like gifts.
Rowan is highly sexual and used to taking what he needs from the men he meets. He pursues Owain from the start, but as soon as they connect, he’s lost in a pull of attraction he’s never felt before. He falls in love with Owain long before he knows it.
There’s a twist, as always, in my romances and of course a happy ending. I hope you enjoy the passion between these two men and the fun in the build to the end where I allow life to play tricks on them the way we all know it can.
Owain Lovage belongs to an ancient family of elven beings, but he and all his family hide themselves among the ordinary humans of an English rural town, where Owain runs a reindeer farm and visitor center. Owain’s life is full, but he is lonely, yearning for a handsome, sexy man to love.
When Rowan Carter reluctantly leaves California to stay with his folks on vacation for the holiday season in England, everything is so much better than he expected—especially when he meets Owain. Captivated by Owain, Rowan seeks him out. Melting hot kisses in the snow are only the start of what he has in mind to do with this red-hot guy.
But Rowan is only on vacation, and his life in California is waiting. Is two weeks long enough to fall in love? And Owain’s secret, his elven identity, is a ticking time-bomb for their relationship. Does the answer lie in an ancient magic spell? Or are the two men doomed to miss the love they have begun?
“I should get home.” Owain closed the trunk and walked with Rowan to the cottage.
Rowan led the way down the hall and into the dining room where he placed the box he carried on a long table. “Why, Owain? Is someone there waiting for you? Do you have a boyfriend?” His cock still strained against his jeans, and he ached to hold Owain close. It was as if he’d already become addicted to the gorgeous man who glanced at him with his sexy dark eyes.
Without answering, Owain carefully placed the box of mistletoe on the table.
Rowan gazed at Owain. He had to know right then if this man was available. “Tell me.”
Owain’s eyes filled with what looked to Rowan like pleasure and amusement—a strange mix of emotions.
Rowan smiled, happier. “Please.”
“I have no one waiting for me. I don’t have a boyfriend, lover, or partner. I have somewhere to be, though. There’s always a family gathering for Yule. People come from across the country. I always help plan it.” He smiled and touched Rowan’s arm. “We could meet tomorrow.”
The smile and suggestion sent waves of happiness over Rowan. “I’ll come out to the car with you. We’ll make arrangements.” He followed Owain to the driver’s side of the SUV.
Owain leaned against the door and held out his arms.
Rowan’s heart leapt as he saw the gesture. There was no one to see, and he surged into Owain’s arms, pushing his cock on Owain’s hard body. “You’ll never know how welcome this is, to press against you, to have you hold me. Owain, I want you so badly. I can’t believe it.” He murmured the words a breath away from Owain’s lips—then Owain kissed him. It was like falling into a soft, sexual haze that lifted him from his feet. His eyes closed, heavy with lust, and he grabbed Owain’s hips to thrust his lower body along Owain’s until with a groan he contacted the hard column of Owain’s cock. “You want me, too.”
Owain left his mouth as Rowan broke the kiss to breathe and speak. He nuzzled one of Rowan’s ears and whispered. “I’m fucking desperate.”
Rowan pushed his hand between them and pressed his palm on the shape of Owain’s erection.
“I wish there was somewhere to go now. I wish I could open your pants and suck the cum from you. I’m so hard my cock’s aching.”
Owain gently put him at arm’s length. “I’m the same, but I must go now. I work at the reindeer farm, that’s my place. In my jacket pocket there’s a business card. Come to see me any time tomorrow. I’ll show you around.” He brought out the card he’d referred to and held it out to Rowan.
Rowan took it. “I will.” He gazed at Owain. “I never expected to meet you.”
Owain leaned to his face and placed a soft, quick kiss on his mouth. “I’m glad you did.”
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Hello, lovelies! I know I said I wasn’t going to post any more teasers from Red Robin and the Huntsman, but I don’t have anything else that’s ready to go, so here’s another scene. Oh, and I’ve just added the reference pic I use whenever I write these two. You should see who I have in mind as Duncan’s brothers!
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Robin grinned up at him. “I always wanted to see you naked. I used to daydream about this, in particular.” She touched the belted V of muscle that bracketed his hips. “It disappeared into your breeches like an arrowhead. I always wanted to see how far down it went.”
His dark eyes glittered in the candlelight. “All the way down, my lady.”
“Really? How delightful.” Letting her fingers trail down his chest and abdomen, she reached the fastening of his breeches. Undoing them was the work of a few moments, and she eased the placket open. As he claimed, the muscle band continued to the top of his groin, where a deliciously thick length pressed in a diagonal against the fabric of his breeches. All she had to do was pull them open further—
He took her hand, pausing it. “If you touch me now, I’ll spend,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I’ve been dreaming of this for far too long to go that quickly. Lie back down, there’s a good lass.”
Torn between a deliciously wicked desire to see him reach his peak and a burning need to have him inside her, Robin did as he asked. He straddled her body, leaning down to capture her mouth in another of those deliciously sensual kisses. His chest hair teased her nipples as they kissed, and she wanted to grind against him until the throbbing flesh between her legs finally gained some relief. But with his knees planted on either side of her thighs she was effectively trapped, waiting on his pleasure.
Not knowing what to do with her hands, she let them rest on his back, tracing the valley of his spine between the long bands of muscle there. Unexpectedly he lifted his head and sucked in a quick, happy breath at her touch.
How long has it been since he’s been touched like this? It gave her an idea. “Move to the side.”
“It’s all right. Move for a minute.”
He did, gingerly balancing on the edge of the narrow bed. “Did I hurt you? I tried to keep my weight off—”
“No, you’re fine.” She rolled into a sitting position, patting the coverlet where she had just been. “Stretch out on your stomach.”
He blinked, then glanced down at the unmistakable bulge in his breeches. “That’s … not the best idea right now, love.”
He did, reluctantly. Moving to kneel behind him, she studied his broad back. Thick with muscle at the shoulders, it tapered down to a trim waist, evidence that he hadn’t been spending the last twelve years commanding a desk. The waistband of his loosened breeches gaped, and she could just make out a pair of dimples bracketing his spine. Idly, she wondered what he would do if she licked them.
First thing’s first. Sliding her hands up his back, she started rubbing his shoulders, pressing her thumbs into tight muscles as she massaged. He made a noise she’d never heard before and sagged under her hands. “Oh, gods. That’s it—I’m marrying you if I have to bribe Patriarch Reniel himself.”
“I don’t think you have to go quite that high.” She kissed the valley of his spine and felt him shudder. “Pater Colbert would be more than happy to marry us.”
He reached back, stilling her hand. “I mean it, Robin. I want to marry you. If you’ll have me, that is.”
She trailed her mouth across the skin of his back to his neck, gently sucking there and raising another full body shiver from him. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to make love to me, captain. Can you do that?”
She felt more than saw him smile. “Whatever my lady wants.”
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Oh, look — it’s Wednesday, which means you need a little something extra to help you over Hump Day. Never fear, for today I’m here with Gale Stanley’s delightful new M/M holiday romance Silent Knight/Sleeping Knight, now available from Changeling Press and other purveyors of erotic romance. Silent Knight, Sleepless Knight (Duet) contains the previously published novellas Silent Knight and Sleepless Knight.
Take it away, Gale!
Paul Stanton thought he had it all, a great job, a beautiful condo and a stable relationship with his boss, but when his lover dumps him for another man, Paul is forced to rethink his life. Rather than spend the holidays alone in San Francisco he visits his childhood home in rural Pennsylvania. But only a few days with his family is enough to convince Paul that you can’t go home again.
Paul leaves for the airport in the midst of a snowstorm. Stranded in the woods, a chance meeting with a hunter is his only option for survival. Paul knows the type, a backwoods bigot just like the men he grew up with, but what choice does he have? A few days with the hunter convinces Paul there’s more to Andy Reynolds than meets the eye. But is it enough to bind two men who have nothing in common except their sex?
Andy and Paul are totally committed to each other, but when the two-year itch infects their relationship, Paul becomes distant and refuses to talk about it. Andy arranges a much needed vacation, but on the way home they pick up a hitchhiker who’s willing to trade sex for a roof over his head. Andy will do anything to make Paul happy, even if it means bringing another man into their bed. But is a threesome really the answer? Or will it drive them further apart?
Andy studied his houseguest. Under different circumstances, Paul’s features would be extremely appealing, but right now, his high cheekbones were an unhealthy shade of pale, and his sensual lips were blue. He hoped Paul would accept his help. “Okay, let’s get you into bed.”
“I usually get dinner first,” Paul mumbled.
Paul’s attempt at humor was a good sign. Andy chuckled. “I’ll give you something to nibble on later, city boy.”
Andy helped his unexpected guest to the sleeping alcove. It was only across the room, but Paul leaned heavily on Andy, and by the time he sat on the bed, sweat beaded on Paul’s forehead. The man was obviously exhausted, but he tried to push Andy away when he attempted to undress Paul.
“Come on, city boy. You need to warm up.”
“I’m good.” Paul’s sentence ended with a shiver.
“You’re not good. You’re hypothermic and maybe frostbitten. Let me take your clothes off, and maybe we’ll save a few body parts.”
Andy’s harsh words must have gotten through to Paul. He stopped protesting and allowed Andy to undress him. When only Paul’s boxers remained, Andy surveyed his body with a clinical eye. There were no disturbing signs of frostbite. He just needed to rest and warm up. Paul might be cold, but he was also incredibly hot. Andy couldn’t help checking out his houseguest’s perfect golden tan. Obviously, the man was from a warmer locale. And Paul’s lean, muscular body, sprinkled with light brown hair, shouted gym rat. When Paul lay down on his back, Andy was surprised to see an erection escaping Paul’s boxers. He reached for the waistband to pull the shorts off.
Paul rose on his elbows and swore under his breath. “See anything you like?”
For a limited time, Silent Knight / Sleepless Knight is available at a new release discount at Changeling Press.
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About the Author
Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, angels! Today I’m featuring Lynn Burke and her smouldering new romance Second Go-Round. Take it away, Lynn!
Christine Gemberling doesn’t enjoy breaking hearts, but she has yet to find a man who knows how to handle the package between his legs well enough to satisfy her needs. No man has held her interest beyond a second date—much less her love. Until one sultry night with an Elite Escort rocks her world like never before.
Professional escort Jarod Zimmerman has a strict code when working with clients—no emotional attachments. But the beer-drinking, football loving Christine and her curves push beyond his control, until the guarded playboy finds himself craving another go-round with the only woman intriguing enough to make him break his own code.
With her defenses stronger than his favorite football team, it will take more than Jarod’s talents in bed to change her stance on relationships. He’ll have to sacrifice his heart when the unexpected circumstance thrown their way threatens to rip them apart forever.
Jarod lowered onto the limo seat beside me and pressed close, his large hand grasping the top of my thigh.
“Where to?” Ricky asked as he settled behind the wheel a moment later.
I spouted off my address quite a ways up Route 1, and with a nod, he shut the window between us, encasing Jarod and I in complete privacy. Soft music came to life, and seconds later, the limo pulled out into Boston’s nighttime traffic.
“For the first go-round, I’m going to fuck you against the front door of your house, but right now,” Jarod said, lowering to his knees in front of me, “I’m going to bury my nose between these thighs and lick your cunt until you squirm.”
“I like the way you think,” I said, my voice breathless, betraying my body’s need.
His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt into a bunch. I wiggled, assisting in his plan, and he yanked me to the seat’s edge.
“Comfy?” he asked, trailing a fingertip against the soaked silk covering me.
Jarod hooked his fingers under the sides of my panties and pulled them down my legs, releasing my heeled feet one at a time. He tossed the panties aside, and grasping my knees, spread me wide.
“Bare.” He stared at the smooth skin between my thighs as he moved close. “I like that.” Palming my ass, he lifted me and buried his face in my pussy as promised, my moan and his groan colliding in the air between us.
My eyelids fluttered shut and head tipped back as he ate me out like a starving man. Tongue, nose, and teeth, he didn’t pussyfoot around, but tortured me with his need to taste every inch, fuck me deep with his long tongue, nibble my swollen lips … flick and suck my throbbing clit.
My fingers found purchase in his hair, and I ground myself against his face, chasing my orgasm. Bastard let off and dipped low to lick my ass and tongue me every time I neared the crest. I tried to force his head back up to my clit, but he held steady, denying me what I wanted.
“Goddamn it, Jarod!” I yanked on his hair as my clit popped from his mouth’s suction again and he roamed southward to my ass.
He snickered and caught my gaze as his tongue rimmed my puckered hole.
My hold tightened on his hair, my heart thundered in my chest. “Please. I need to come.”
Finally—finally—he pressed two fingers deep into my sopping wet core. “Is this what you need, Christine? My fingers fucking your cunt and my mouth on your clit?”
“Oh, fuck.” My head tipped back again as he latched onto my clit. “Don’t stop. Please … Christ, don’t stop!” You’d think I hadn’t climaxed in months the way my orgasm ripped through me.
Jarod’s fingers and tongue drew out every clench of my pussy, every shudder rippling down through me as I gasped for breath. He lapped up every trace of my cum and sucked his fingers clean, the noises in his throat barely reaching through the ringing in my ears.
I sagged into the leather seat, sucking wind. “Holy shit. It’s no wonder you get paid to please a woman.”
To celebrate the release of Second Go-Round, Lynn is hosting a Rafflecopter giveaway! Prizes are a $25 Amazon Gift Card and Author Lynn Burke mug. The contest runs Dec 8th – 22nd, so make sure you enter.
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Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
It’s Wednesday? Awesome! Because I have a little teaser for you from Cross Current (Olympic Cove #4). Matt Taber, my divorced history teacher who just wanted to spend a couple of weeks on the beach before school starts, has just learned that he’s living next door to Poseidon and his mates Amphitrite and Griffin, mermen and selkies are real because one of each just showed up on the beach with the Oracle of the Waters, and things are never going to be the same for him again. Muwahahaha…
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Matt’s tentative knock at the green cottage’s door was met by an unsmiling Griffin. “Hi. Welcome to Greek God Central.”
The repetition of Atropos’s phrase from his dream sent a chill down Matt’s spine. “Hi. Pythia said that I should talk to Amphitrite?”
Griffin moved to the side, letting him in. “Right. She and Poseidon are busy with Donald at the moment. It might be awhile.” He gave Matt a sympathetic smirk. “How are you holding up?”
That was a damned good question. “I kinda feel like I got sucked into an episode of Stranger Things,” Matt admitted. “Apart from that, I seem to be okay.”
“Good on you, mate.” The Englishman took him into the kitchen, where he pulled two brown bottles out of the fridge and handed one over. “This’ll help.”
Matt noted the microbrewery label. “I thought Brits didn’t chill their beers.”
Griffin scoffed. “We do when we’re in Florida. I take it Nick gave you the scoop on what’s been happening here?”
“Crazy goddess trying to destroy Earth, a bunch of gods and other mythological creatures fighting her, yeah, I know.” He twisted off the bottle cap and took a welcome swig. “I’m not involved.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m new to the whole thing myself.” Although the knowledgeable look in the Englishman’s eyes gave lie to his words. “How are your guests doing?”
When Matt had left his cottage, the doctor had been asking the mer about how far they’d swum. “Nick’s treating them, I think. The blond guy’s really a merman?”
“Yep, just like Aidan and Liam. You can probably talk them into going for a swim and showing you their tails.”
“Yeah, no, that’s okay.” He leaned against the counter, rubbing his thumb over the cool, sweating surface of the bottle. “I’m thinking maybe I should go back to Jupiter. If I can’t get my deposit back, I can crash with a buddy until school starts.”
The Englishman folded his arms, leaning against the opposite counter. “If that’s what you think you should do, then do it. Nobody’s going to keep you here against your will.”
Amphitrite picked that moment to appear, looking concerned. “Oh, good, Matt. You’re here. Donald wants to speak with you.”
Matt straightened up. “Donald?”
“The Oracle of the Waters. Tall man, white hair and beard, came out of the water with our other guests?”
A faint wash of dread tingled down his spine. He tried to get his tongue to work properly. “I—why does he want to talk to me?”
“I don’t know,” the goddess said, exasperated. “That’s something you’ll have to discuss with him.”
She gestured towards the hallway she’d just exited. Feeling like he was walking towards a firing squad, Matt reluctantly headed deeper into the cottage. Soft voices were coming through an open doorway and he peeked into what was clearly a guest bedroom
Inside, the old man from the beach had been dried off and tucked into bed, wet clothes piled on a chair next to the bed. Poseidon stood over him, handsome face lined as he listened to the man’s words. He glanced up at Matt’s arrival. “Oh, good, you’re here. Donald needs to talk to you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Matt edged into the room, studying the occupant of the bed. The man looked to be about seventy, with Santa Claus-white hair brushed back from a high forehead and a slightly overgrown beard hiding a craggy face. His eyes, however, were his most notable feature. Pale as sea glass, they seemed to burn in that pale face.
“Ah. Matthew,” the man said, a faint lilt coloring his voice. “You’re quite the difficult man to track down.”
Dunn—no, Poseidon—turned and considered him. “You’re going to want to listen to him, Matt.”
The affable host from last night was gone. Replacing him was a being who radiated power and authority like nothing Matt had ever experienced before. Every rational cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, leave, jump in his car and head north until he was out of reach of the divinity standing in front of him.
Instead, he stepped forward. “Amphitrite said you wanted to talk to me?”
The sea god left, and the old man chuckled wearily. “Poor Poseidon. I don’t think he ever expected me to impose on his hospitality. But if Mohammad won’t come to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammad.”
More of the Fates’ words from his dream came back. “Are you talking about my trip to France?”
“Yes. You were supposed to visit Marseilles, you see. While you were there, you would have found your way to my cavern and I would have begun your instruction.”
Another of those cold washes of dread trickled down Matt’s spine. “Whoa, wait. Instruction? For what?”
“To replace me as the Oracle of the Waters.” Another ferocious smile. “I’m not actually immortal, you see. Just very long lived. But even my life is winding to a close, and someone must take over my position and my responsibilities. And out of all the mortals on this planet, I’ve chosen you to do that.”
Ten minutes later, Matt slammed back into the cottage and stalked into the kitchen. Grabbing the bottle of Scotch from the counter, he found a glass in one of the cabinets and poured himself a triple. He barely felt the liquor as he swallowed it in two huge gulps.
Nick materialized, pausing in the doorway. “I take it that didn’t go well?”
Matt glared at the doctor. “That’s a fucking understatement, my friend.”
“Okay. Well, it’s never a good idea to day drink alone, so…” Nick pried the bottle out of his hand, then grabbed another glass and poured himself a reasonable single. “You’ve been given your marching orders?”
“Marching orders? Marching orders?” His voice rose to a bellow on the last phrase. “Do you know what that old hippie in the cottage over there just told me? Apparently I’m the new Oracle of the Waters.” He started to pace the length of the kitchen, clutching the Scotch glass like a life preserver. “I’m supposed to give up everything in my life and go live in a fucking cave on the coast of fucking France so that fucking sea creatures can come and get me to consult with the fucking Fates on their problems.”
“Huh. Yeah, that must have come as a surprise.” Nick took a sip of his Scotch. “Is it the cave part that bugs you?”
The sheer laid-backness of the doctor made Matt want to throw the glass at a wall. “What’s bugging me is that I came out here for two weeks to get over my damn divorce before I have to go back into the trenches. And suddenly not only do I get dragged into some sort of weird-ass battle against a crazy goddess, but I’m supposed to become the supernatural world’s version of Dear Prudence. In a cave.”
“So it is the cave part.”
“Gimme that.” Matt snatched the Scotch bottle back and poured himself another double. “How the hell do I get out of it?”
“I don’t think you can. It’s one of those fated things.”
Nick’s matter-of-fact tone made him flinch. “Jesus Christ. I dreamed about them last night,” he said. “The Fates, I mean. We were having beer and hot wings at a sports bar. They told me—” He stopped. “They told me I was about to get a new job. And a new romance. Who the fuck is going to want to date a guy living in a cave?”
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Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, cupcakes! Today I’m featuring E.D. Parr and her new M/M fantasy romance The Dreamboat. Take it away, E.D.!
Gorgeous, powerful warlock, Indigo Vaughn, sells his magic spells to people looking to make a dream come true. One night, as he gazes down on the city below from his sky barge The Dreamboat, he wonders why, in centuries, his own wish for a man to love hasn’t materialized.
Beautiful, sexy, Darian O’Harr has suffered his fair share of misery. He’s a musician and learned long ago to sing for his supper. New to the city, he comes to Indigo seeking a spell that will bring him the love of a handsome man.
As soon as he sets eyes on Indigo, his heart races and his body betrays his pent up needs.
Here is the man of his dreams. What can Darian do as the warlock gathers his magic to cast a spell that will bring him another man?
Indigo didn’t sleep well for three nights after meeting Darian. On the fourth night he didn’t sleep at all. His sexual needs beat at him, until he couldn’t think straight. His desire burned until all he could think about was fucking. He pushed his breakfast around on his plate the next morning. That day he stalked the corridors of The Dreamboat eschewing meetings and focused only on the security arrangements for the queen’s celebrations. At sixteen hundred hours he called Milan to his side.
“Will you make an appointment at Temptations for me? Twenty-three hundred hours will be good.”
Milan’s gentle smile comforted him. “One, Two, or Three, sir?”
Indigo shook his head slowly. His desire threatened to overwhelm him. Nearly crazed with sexual need, Indigo needed to deal with it or be incomplete for weeks to come. “All of them. Thank you.”
Moments later, Milan returned. “You’re expected at Temptations, twenty-three hundred hours as you requested. Permit me to take you there and wait to bring you home?”
“Yes, of course.”
Temptations buzzed with chatter and thumped with music in the main downstairs room. People danced, some grinding their bodies against each other’s.
A host met Indigo. “It’s been a while, sir. I trust you are well. Your requested companions are ready.”
Indigo nodded. He silently followed the host to the upstairs room where beautiful men he knew only by a number would slake his desires that night.
The host left him.
Indigo wore only a belted kilt and ankle length hooded cloak over his naked body. He stepped out of his soft suede ankle boots, and waited, his cock already half-erect with anticipation.
Gorgeous men entered the room, their naked bodies muscled, their eyes dark with desire, they came to Indigo silently.
Indigo savored their looks, big cocks already filling out into erections. His admiring gaze raked over the men, their lush dark hair, soft and well-cut, blue eyes, gray eyes, smooth skin free of body hair, and his cock jerked as his stomach tightened. He loved men. These men were the best of Temptations male brothel, and they’d serviced him once before a year ago. He sighed recalling the satisfaction. The night sparkled with promise. He watched with growing sexual hunger.
One carried a tray and placed it on the table away from the huge low bed. On the tray—a carafe of water so cold it misted the glass, sachets of lube, condoms, sex toys, tissues, and a wine glass.
One unclipped Indigo’s cloak and after grazing his lips on Indigo’s, he brought the cloak to a freestanding rail and hung it.
A low murmur of appreciation fell from Indigo’s mouth as he savored the fleeting kiss from One’s perfect lips.
Two knelt and traced his fingertips up and down Indigo’s legs, reaching his balls and circling feather light touches there that made Indigo’s cock fill out in a delicious slow sensation.
Indigo closed his eyes with lust as his stomach tightened and jerked his cock when Two stroked the backs of his thighs.
Three took the belt from Indigo’s kilt as One slid his hands around Indigo’s face and held him fast kissing him hungrily. The kiss seared desire through Indigo and he slid his palms along the satiny skin of One’s muscled chest with a groan.
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About the Author
E.D Parr is a writer who is in love with happy endings, currently based in southern UK.
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to the marvelously prolific Doris O’Connor, whose smouldering new BDSM menage romance Her Best Friend’s Husband is now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. And now, here’s Doris!
Thank you so much for having me on your blog today with my new release Her Best Friend’s Husband. Like so many of my stories the idea for this one was first sparked by a picture and the resulting tease on my blog.
The picture was a naked guy in bed, holding a wedding cake. How did I arrive from that to this story? Well, my muse works in mysterious ways, lol. The story slowly evolved and it was stuck in limbo for a long time, until I got the urge one day to pick up that manuscript, and the rest is history, as they say. J
I had such fun writing these three, and the intricacies of their relationship as they try to work out whether three is indeed better than two. So much so, in fact, that I’m planning a follow up to their story in due course.
For now, enjoy seeing Naomi struggle with her feelings for her best friend and his husband. To quote her. “Who does that?”
Naomi, for sure, and when she realizes the guys feel the same way…. Well… you might need a fan or a glass of water when you’re reading some scenes.
Wedding organizer Naomi Young is not only head-over-heels in love with her best friend, she lusts after his husband.
Which is all kinds of wrong—isn’t it? Maybe not. Especially when she discovers the attraction is not as one-sided as she thought.
Dom Dawson Monroe has never had a problem going after what he wants. Both he and his new husband Josh Garrison enjoy a woman’s soft touch, so who better to satisfy that need than the one woman Josh is madly in love with? Time to claim them both as his submissives.
Convention be damned. Happiness is to be found in the soft curves of Naomi’s body, as long as they can convince her that this is forever. Only time will tell if the loving twosome can become an even more loving threesome.
“Perhaps the boy’s timing was unfortunate, but he would only owe you an apology if you hadn’t enjoyed that kiss. And we all know you did. I’d wager you’re getting wet just remembering those kisses. I know I got hard witnessing it. You two look hot together.”
Naomi gasped and opened her mouth as though to protest, but one knowing smirk from Dawson meant she simply shook her head.
“Nothing to say to that, little one?”
That question, delivered in that deep, dark, gravelly voice—his Dom voice, as Josh called it—appeared to have the same effect on Naomi, as it always did on him. Her breathing sped up, and she tensed. While he couldn’t see them from his position in his back seat, Josh bet his next orgasm that her nipples were hard little beacons signaling her arousal as clearly as the moan she swallowed. It made him wish this infernal journey was over already. He couldn’t wait to see his life-long friend squirm in pleasure under his and Dawson’s hands.
His Master’s gaze dropped down to Naomi’s cleavage and Dawson’s grin turned positively sinful.
“Never mind words, your body gives you away. If I touched you now, I’d find you sopping wet for us, wouldn’t I? In fact…”
Dawson reached across and placed his large hand on Naomi’s knee. She jumped but didn’t stop him as he proceeded to pull up the hem of her dress, exposing acres of dark skin. The contrast of Dawson’s much lighter hand on Naomi’s thighs was startling. Josh groaned, and Naomi crunched the gear again as the traffic started moving.
“Please, I … don’t.” She flung an imploring look at Master and gasped when his hand briefly disappeared between her ample thighs. Josh balled his hands into fists to stop himself from grasping his dick, because seeing Master’s hand reappear seconds later, his digits glistening with the unmistakable evidence of Naomi’s arousal … fuck, that was hot.
Dawson grinned, licked one digit, and then held his hand out for Josh.
“Here, have a taste.”
His amber eyes darkened when Josh grasped Master’s hand. Naomi’s sweet, addictive taste exploded on his taste buds, made ten times more potent because it was mixed in with the familiar scent of the man he loved to distraction. Josh’s balls drew up in response, and he grunted as his dick jerked inside his pants.
“No coming without my say-so, boy. Besides, you make a mess in our girl’s car you’ll be cleaning it up.”
“Oh my God, you two are too much. I’m sitting right here, you know. Are either one of you going to actually ask me what I think?”
Naomi’s voice had risen to a shrill screech in her agitation. It served as an ice-cold dampener to Josh’s arousal, and he hastily released Dawson’s hand.
“Of course, we do.” He threw an imploring glance at his husband, and Dawson gave a sharp nod. Relief flooded through Josh, at that non-verbal confirmation that his Master was more than willing to step in.
“None of this will work without your consent, and communication is vital. I just don’t appreciate you lying to yourself, or us, girl,” Dawson said.
Naomi tensed further, and Josh could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. Any minute now she would explode in anger.
“Look, Naomi, what Dawson is trying to say—”
“Spare me, Josh.” Naomi glared at him through the rearview mirror, and in a move that wouldn’t have been amiss in a Bond movie, she pulled into the fast lane and put her foot down, as the traffic cleared. Dawson’s hand braced on the dashboard again, and when he looked all set to say something, Josh put his hand on his Master’s shoulder. Dawson glanced back at him, and his brows drew together in a frown at Josh’s shake of the head. He heeded his request, however, and didn’t say anything, as Naomi broke every speed limit in the land in her haste to seemingly get away from them all.
An awkward silence fell between them all, only broken by Naomi’s soft curses when she had to slow down for the inevitable traffic, interspersed by Dawson’s sighs.
Oh, Master was pissed and getting more annoyed by the minute. One of Dawson’s unbreakable rules was the need for his submissives to stay safe. Unwittingly Naomi was breaking that rule, and Josh knew he had to say something to calm this situation down.
“Slow down, sweet cheeks. Getting us killed will not get us there any faster. I’m sorry okay.”
Naomi gasped and glanced at him through the mirror. The sheen of tears in her eyes was like a punch to the gut, and he put his hand on her shoulder. He took the fact that she didn’t immediately shrug him off as a good sign. “I’m sorry I sprung this on you, but I’m not sorry I kissed you. I’m not sorry this is out in the open. We should have probably had this conversation before I got married, but there never seemed a right time, and I’m a fucking coward, okay? I was too afraid to lose our friendship, but we could be so good together. All of us.”
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About the Author
Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, Sci-fi, BDSM, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Stalk her in these places.
TGIF! Let’s kick off December with a fabulous new collection of magical paranormal romances, Moonlight Magic, now available from online purveyors of fine romance.
A Limited Edition Collection of Supernatural Tales
Whether it is the witching hour, dawn, day or dusk, you are sure to find a thrill with these supernatural tales of the paranormal. This collection of stories caters to every taste. From steamy to sizzling with witches, werewolves, leprechauns, dragons and even Greek gods, your pulse will pound and your heart will race. Proceed with caution when you read this compilation because what is read, can never be unread, especially not under the magic of moonlight.
✩ Featured Authors ✩
Secrets of the Hollows (The Hollows 1) by Nicole Morgan
Lucifer once said about Andras, “His power is great, and should be feared.”
Hard Bite by Kate Allenton
It’s going to take more than sizzling chemistry to solve this mysterious case.
The Accidental Adoption by Lucy Felthouse
There’s more to Rosie’s new dog than meets the eye…
Candy Cornered by Carma Haley
Cornered between Alpha protection and Rogue passion.
Mated by Midnight by Linnea Alexis
A man walks into a bar…and meets his destiny.
Her Protectors by Tamsin Baker
Brother shifters meet their curvaceous mate in this short, hot paranormal romance.
Night Hawk by J.E. Taylor
Sacrificed to the shadows, Naomi thirsts for justice…and revenge.
Spellbound by Laura Greenwood
A second chance at love makes sparks fly…literally.
Under A Darkened Moon by Jane Hinchey
She’s a wolf on the run.
Wicked by Diana Bocco
One night. One ritual. Passion can change everything.
All Hallow’s Eve by Elena Bryce
Seductive Lord Samhain is tempting her to stay forever…
Blood Moon by Livia Quinn
She could destroy his world…or save it.
Fire and Blood by Cadence Denton
She walked through flames to find him.
Marked by Fate Book One by Adaline Raine
A woman seeking answers finds so much more.
Shifter’s Choice by Annalise Nixon
Secrecy. Loyalty. Desire. Who needs a band of brothers when you can form a pack of shifters?
Aphrodite Calling by Jennifer Lynne
Sometimes it takes the power of the gods to reveal the woman within…
Wayward Souls by Laurie Treacy
By saving the life of a gorgeous stranger, Holly finds her true self.
Taming Desire by Crystal Dawn
In the end, the wolf will howl because he believes love must triumph over all.
Gettin’ Lucky with a Leprechaun by Jocelyn Dex
At the end of the rainbow, will she find a pot of gold, or just get lucky?
Wilde & Sexy by Angie Daniels
It feels so good to be Wilde…
Accidentally Linked by Lexi Ostrow
Magic doesn’t always cast as planned
Lyric by Andrea R. Cooper
No man can resist a siren’s song…
Never Match a Dragon by Rachael Slate
Try to match a dragon, and you’ll end up burned.
Beyond the Ashes by Kaiden Klein
When darkness owns your soul, you have nothing to bargain with but time.
Rolf’s Quest by Aubrey Wynne
A wizard, a curse, a fated love. What medieval dreams are made of…
Where to Buy
Hello, lovelies! This week I’m teasing you with one last snippet from my holiday novella Red Robin and the Huntsman before its release next week!
Many thanks to Angelica Dawson for hosting us, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Duncan woke early after a fitful night’s sleep interspersed with dreams about Robin. In one she was being carried off by brigands, and in another pirates. Despite his best attempts at carving a path through the men he could never reach her in time and was forced to listen to her screaming for help as she was borne off by her captors.
Out of sorts, he dressed and headed down to the chilly dining hall. From the smell in the air, there would be no meat or eggs available for breakfast this morning. His suspicions were confirmed when Adele hauled a cauldron full of oatmeal into the hall and started dishing it out. “There’s no raisins, I’m afraid, and we don’t have cream,” she said apologetically as she placed a steaming bowl in front of him. “But there’s some fresh milk and I can fetch a bit of sugar, if you like.”
Unappetizing as it was, the oatmeal was still better than some of the things he’d eaten on patrol. “This is fine, thank you.” Duncan reached for the salt cellar and sprinkled some on the oats. The contrast between the beige glop and the elegant pewter bowl acted as a sobering barometer of the Busse family’s finances.
To his surprise, the next person in the hall was a young boy, his reddish-brown hair cut neatly in a bowl crop and his large brown eyes bright and intelligent. “Hello,” he said as he climbed onto a chair. “You must be one of the soldiers come to help Ser Arthur.”
“I am,” Duncan said, twigging to the boy’s identity, “my lord. Captain Duncan Bardahlson, at your service.”
“I’m Charles Busse, Count of Wellen. But you can call me Charlie.” The young count beamed at Adele as she served him. Duncan noted that she took a sugar bowl from the sideboard, carefully scraping out grains of brown sugar to sprinkle on the boy’s breakfast. “It must be very exciting to be a soldier. Have you fought many thieves before?”
“Once or twice, aye. Usually horse thieves, although there was one time when I had to track down a jewel thief.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? Did you catch him?”
“Her. And yes, I did.” The rest of that tale wasn’t appropriate for young ears, however, and the lady in question was now happily married to the jewel merchant she’d been robbing so everything had worked out in the end. “We’ll be heading out this week with Ser Arthur’s men to guard them while they collect the taxes.”
Charlie’s feathery brows lowered at that. “Do you think the thieves will attack again?”
“If they do, they’re very foolish. But we’ll be ready for them if they do.”
Ewan and Hamish picked that moment to troop in. Duncan made the introductions while Adele scooped out more bowls of oatmeal. Ewan gave his breakfast a disgusted look, but dug in while Charlie continued to ask questions about the upcoming tax collection. Duncan couldn’t help but be impressed with the child’s canny inquiries. Aye, you’re definitely your mother’s son.
Ser Arthur was the last to make an appearance, grimacing at the food. “Adele, why are we serving our guests oatmeal?” he asked. “I specifically requested ham steaks and eggs. You can’t expect soldiers to ride on this slop.”
Adele pressed her lips together. “We don’t have any ham steaks or eggs, Ser Arthur,” she said stolidly. “My lady said this was to be served for breakfast. ”
“Ach. Women.” Devines shook his head as he took his seat. “I’m sorry about that. I had asked for a proper breakfast, but this home clearly needs a stronger hand on the reins, eh?”
Charlie’s face reddened at that, and his fist tightened on the spoon. Quickly, Duncan said, “Oatmeal is quite filling and sticks to your ribs, Ser Arthur. The fact that we’re eating a hot breakfast at all is a pleasure, truly.”
“You’re too kind, captain. We’ll have to do better for you after you return.” After ordering Adele to bring him milk and sugar, the tax collector started on his own breakfast, orating between bites about his service to the king and how he would have gone into the army, “except I have these bone spurs, you see. Would’ve made me quite useless on the front lines.”
Duncan decided not to mention that a decent Terra mage could have healed something that minor. “Does that mean you won’t be coming out with us, Ser Arthur?”
Devines waved a sticky spoon at him. “Oh, no. Best for me to stay here and coordinate, don’t you think? I have full faith in you and your men’s abilities to keep the king’s taxes safe, captain.”
In other words, he didn’t want to travel in the cold weather. Duncan glanced at his brothers. Neither of them did anything as blatant as roll their eyes, but he could tell they both shared his rapidly dropping opinion of the tax collector.
Despite Charlie’s presence at the table, it was clear that Roberta wouldn’t be making an appearance at breakfast. Best to take that as a message and get on with it. “While we’re on the topic, gentlemen, may I suggest we head to Ser Arthur’s office after breakfast and plan out how we’re going to tackle the collection?” Duncan said.
The other men grunted in agreement, although Charlie seemed a bit forlorn. “Can I come with you when you gather the taxes, captain?”
Devines laughed loudly before Duncan had time to come up with a politic refusal. “Don’t be ridiculous, my lord,” the tax collector said, smirking. “You’re far too young for such a dangerous trip.”
The boy glared at the tax collector. “I’m not ridiculous, and I wasn’t talking to you, Ser Arthur.”
Devines’s smirk evaporated. “You impudent young pup. If you were my son, I’d take you over my knee for such impertinence,” he declared.
“But I’m not your son, am I?” Charlie shot back. “In fact, I’m count here, which means that I outrank you.”
Duncan cleared his throat before Devines could make matters worse. “My lord, while I appreciate your concern for your people and your lands, I’m afraid we can’t take civilians on this trip, what with the cold weather and the potential risk from brigands,” he said, careful to keep his tone respectful.
“But you’re taking Ser Arthur’s men,” Charlie pointed out.
Oh, he was most definitely Robin’s son. “They’re treasury employees, and as such are part of the royal government. Besides, it’s your duty as count to remain here and protect your estate and your mother.”
His words had their intended effect, and the boy nodded reluctantly. “All right. But I’d like to go into Halle this afternoon to see the holiday decorations. If you’re not leaving until tomorrow, you could take me there, couldn’t you?”
As if Robin would let him take her son anywhere. “We’ll have to ask your mother—”
“I’ll do it.” Limber as an eel, the young count slid off his chair and dashed out of the dining hall.
Devines huffed, tossing his napkin on the table. “You shouldn’t indulge the little rascal like that, captain,” he growled. “If I’d spoken to my father like that, he would’ve given me a taste of the strap.”
Duncan strongly doubted that Devines had ever felt so much as a flick on the ear, much less a strap across the backside, but he didn’t want to get into a discussion on child-rearing with the overbearing man. “I’m sure that her ladyship won’t want his lordship escorted off the estate grounds,” he said instead, scraping up the last of his oatmeal.
As it turned out, he was wrong. After the meeting had been wrapped up by a still huffy Devines, he’d gone to the stable to brush Fremder when he heard light footsteps behind him. They were followed by a tart, “So you’ve offered to take Charlie to Halle this afternoon?”
Duncan gathered himself, then turned to face his hostess. Robin was still wearing widow’s grey, but the shade held a hint of blue today. And even irritated, she was still beautiful enough to make his heart beat faster. “He wanted to go with us on the collection trip,” he said as evenly as possible. “I said that his duties were here, protecting you. He then asked if I could take him to Halle. I said it would be up to you. I assumed you wouldn’t want him going anywhere with me.”
Her eyes narrowed at his perfectly reasonable explanation. “Normally, I wouldn’t. But it would be good for him to attend the candle lighting ceremony this afternoon and tour the crafts fair. His people need to get to know him.”
She couldn’t seriously be suggesting… “Not being a nobleman, I’m not familiar with what airs and graces need to be put on for one’s people,” Duncan muttered, returning to his task.
She snorted, the sound still familiar even after so many years. “Oh, please. You needn’t sound as if I’m making Charlie out to be heir to the throne.”
There would be no finishing Fremder’s coat while she was there. Duncan turned back to her, currycomb in hand. “I’m not. I’m simply saying that I’m not a nobleman and I don’t know what goes into the job, all right?”
“I’m not asking you to tutor him in etiquette. But Charlie should go to Halle for the ceremony.”
“So take him.”
He realized his mistake when he saw her jaw muscles tense. “We had to sell the carriage and horses. All I have left is that grey mare.” She nodded at a pudding-like horse placidly chewing hay. “And it wouldn’t do for me to ride into town on her with Charlie on my lap like a baby.”
Her statement confirmed Duncan’s suspicions that the Busse family had fallen on hard times. He wanted to ask what had happened, but the set of Robin’s shoulders suggested that now was not the time. “You might have noticed that I don’t have a carriage, either, my lady.”
She shook her head. “You’re a soldier. If Charlie rides with you, that would be all right. You’d be his bodyguard for the day.”
He had set this trap for himself well and proper. “I need to finalize plans with Ser Arthur before we leave tomorrow,” he tried.
Now she gave him a disgusted look. “Charlie said you just spoke with Ser Arthur. And it’s hardly as if you’re planning an invasion. You ride with his men and yours, you collect the tax, and you fight off anyone foolish enough to attack your convoy. Anyone with a basic understanding of military strategy would know that.”
“True. But a good strategist would want to make sure that everything comes off smoothly.”
Another snort. “Fine. I’ll tell Charlie you were too busy working on tactics to take him to Halle.” She turned to leave.
The boy’s hopeful face appeared in his mind. Duncan sighed. “Is it really that important for him to go?”
Robin paused. “Yes. He needs to get out, to see his people. And it’s good for them to see him. Besides…” She trailed off, her shoulders dropping a bit. “He doesn’t ask for much. I hate telling him no for something this … small.”
Duncan fought off a sudden urge to take her into his arms, if only to cuddle her and give her some sort of reassurance that everything would work out in the end. Aye, and you know damn well she’d plant a knee in your bollocks if you tried it. Hands to yourself, man.
Although… If he was honest, it wasn’t actually a bad idea to go to Halle for the afternoon and get a feel for the town. If nothing else, it was better than spending the time listening to Devines’s interminable stories or staring at the gloomy ceiling in his room. And if he took Ewan and Hamish with him, the three of them could share babysitting—no, count-sitting—duties. “Fine,” he said, making sure that his tone was properly put-upon. “I’ll take him into Halle.”
An unexpected sheen appeared in Robin’s eyes, making them glisten. “Thank you.”
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Okay, folks, this is a bit different from the usual romance guest blogs I post, but this story by Peri Elizabeth Scott is most definitely worth a look. Check it out!
In a post apocalyptic world, a woman struggles to survive until reunited with her son, only to bring grave danger to the small band of people he leads. Choosing to sacrifice herself to protect the clan, Ann Murdoch discovers how resourceful she can be in the face of torture and death.
She knew revenge was a luxury even as she yearned for it, her daughter horribly dead at another’s hand. She herself killed a boy, albeit in self defense, and obviously someone connected to him doesn’t view luxury in the same way. And that someone is well past the yearning stage…
The quick retreat wasn’t totally silent. She could hear the sounds of the others, moving quickly along parallel lines to her own painful effort. Wondering how long she could keep the burst of energy up, she noted the noises diminished as people worked their way outward like the spokes of a wheel. Four hundred paces and the air burned in her lungs. Sh e fought the tough terrain and avoided the thickening flora, the damn sled hanging up at each and every turn. Her arms burned with the desperate efforts to free the runners and the hound whined with pain.
Six hundred paces had her bent doubled over with a stitch in her side. She went to her knees when the ground sloped away into a small ravine, nearly causing her and Gehlert to tumble into its depths, the momentum of the heavy sled a terrible burden. It was the dog who saved them, digging his forefeet in and throwing his body weight back to settle on his haunches. She hugged him fiercely, his pants and thundering heartbeat mirroring her own.
Skirting the ravine took them well away from what she reckoned was a straight path outward from the original starting point. She scanned the treetops in a near futile effort to reorient herself. The filtered light told her the sun was at four o’clock, so she deviated slightly to her right and pushed on, wondering where the strength to do so had come from.
Having lost count of her pacing, she chanced another three hundred, using images of what would happen if they got caught to spur her on. Certain they’d walked a half marathon, she chose a thick clump of gorse bushes, insanely wondering how they’d come to flourish this deep in the woods. The hound stepped away from the harness the instant she freed him and staggered sideways to collapse on a bed of leaves and other organic debris. Doggedly working to separate the lower branches of the bushes and wincing at the spiny press of the remaining leaves despite the cover of her thin gloves, she managed to secret the sled, or at least muddle the outline of it. She bent thinner twigs to camouflage it further and made herself take the time to stand back and take as critical a look as she could. Satisfied, she found another clump of the same vegetation and crawled in backward, stopping only when her feet couldn’t press any deeper. She then pressed a dog sized space open to her right.
“Gehlert.” Even a whisper hurt her parched throat, but she was rewarded with a faint thump of his tail. “Come.”
The hound visibly considered her command, ears lowering and eyes drifting before he levered upward, limping to her. He’d pulled more than his weight and was clearly on the brink of exhaustion. Even in the dappled light she could see where the harness had cut harshly into his hide, the thick guard hairs rubbed away. She wanted to cry. Blinking hard, she swallowed against the emotion.
“Here.” She patted the small space beside her and he obligingly wiggled in, somehow turning in place three times before he settled down. Draping an arm over him, she tugged a few branches into place over, poking herself in the cheek as she did so, then dropped her head onto the fertile earth.
After a time, her heart slowed and her breathing returned to normal, as did the hound’s, although he hitched from time to time with a little gasping noise. At last, she could focus on her surroundings and actually hear the forest sounds, the faint creak of living wood, the rustle of a small breeze among the remaining leaves, and the occasional call of a bird. The ground was reasonably warm, despite the approach of winter, and with Gehlert pressed close, she wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. She only wished she’d thought to bring one of the water bottles into her makeshift shelter, her body crying out for moisture after the forced march.
Time crept by and she became aware of how her pistol rested with solid intent against her belly, the barrel grinding into her hip. Seeing that her weapon was the only thing between her and whatever was out there hunting them, she cursed fluently under her breath and hitched up enough to worm a hand beneath her. With some judicious pulling and peeling back of the layers of clothing, she was able to free the butt and work the pistol out from under her, blessing her foresight to set the safety. She brought it up beside her head, one finger through the trigger, palm resting lightly against the pommel, before she flicked the safety off.
The hound stiffened beneath her lax arm and she strained her ears, suppressing a shudder. Perhaps it was one of the others, off course and passing by, still trudging those thousand paces, that had alerted him. Or an animal, picking its way through the trees. Alas, it was the base notes of a number of male voices she heard, far off, their words indistinct, distorted by the numerous trees and the uneven terrain—and the sudden escalation of her heartbeat. Stark terror froze her in place, chilling her blood, making her sex draw up in self-defense. Her belly clenched in on itself and goose flesh broke out all along her spine. Air rushed in and out of her nose as she tried hard not to pant, knowing how foreign the sound would be, how easily heard if someone cared to stop and listen. Her dog shivered in response to her angst and made a faint whine.
That whimper awakened her higher brain functions and she gained control. With a firm squeeze, she signaled Gehlert into silence. They huddled together and waited as she held her weapon at the ready.
Disjointed phrases drifted to her ears, accompanied by faint crashing sounds of something larger than a person.
“…signs of at least…”
She was certain she felt a cold stare focused on their location, something malevolent and inhuman, and remained as still as possible, willing their hidden forms to blend into the surroundings. Nothing to see here. Just more trees and underbrush. She prayed there were no dogs, and cast her eyes down, refusing to risk even that chance of a flicker of awareness.
Minutes passed as she counted the seconds. Three hundred and sixty, then six hundred and sixty. Eleven minutes, give or take. The evil stare lingered in her imagination, or perhaps its owner was still out there, patient as a spider. The adrenalin leached out of her muscles, leaving her spent and far more fatigued than ever. She wouldn’t move, wouldn’t make it easier for whoever it was out there to find her, but felt as though she had nothing left to defend herself if he did. Her pistol seemed impossibly toy-like against the threat and her knife was still in her boot.
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About the Author
Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada. After closing her private practice as a social worker and child play therapist, she joined her husband in running their seasonal business where they pretend to work well together.
Writing for years, The Time is a departure from her usual romance genre, but it was a story that had to be told!
Peribeth also pens erotic romance under a different pen name and reads everything she can lay her hands on.