Category Archives: Promo
Mid Week Tease: Deep Water #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. We have another scene from my NaNoWriMo novel, Book Three of the Olympic Cove series Deep Water. In this scene Poseidon has received an unexpected summons from the Oracle of the Waters. However, once he finds out that the Fates are expecting him to reconcile with his estranged consort Amphitrite, things get a little…difficult. Yeah, that’s good word for it.
Next week I’ll have something tasty for you, but right now there just hasn’t been a lot of sex. Yet. Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Poseidon, God of the Sea, has spent millennia alone due to a single terrible act — a drunken assault on his agapetos, or fated mate, shared with his consort Amphitrite. His queen has sworn never to forgive him for his actions, and he must live with the knowledge that he drove an innocent girl to a dreadful retribution.
But when one of the Olympic Cove cottages gets a new occupant with an all-too-familiar soul, Poseidon discovers that the Fates have given him a second chance. Now he must try to right the wrongs of the past and win back both his beloved consort and the mate he betrayed.
Assuming, of course, that the Mad Nereid Thetis doesn’t interfere…
The Oracle of the Waters resided in a remote grotto just off the Orkney Islands. Skylla and Sthenios headed unerringly to the hidden entrance, neatly skirting a loaded tanker trundling its liquid cargo from the oil rigs in the North Sea. Poseidon briefly extended his godsense, reading the humans who crewed the tanker. Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary; there were the usual amounts of grudges, violent thoughts, and plans of vengeance, but those existed wherever mortals gathered. He absently bestowed a blessing on them as his chariot landed neatly on the rock-strewn sea floor.
His steeds started cropping seaweed as he stepped out onto the sea floor, holding up his trident. The three-tined head began to glow, illuminating his approach to the craggy rock face that, far above, would become the seaward side of an island. What appeared to be a dark streak in the rocks turned out to be a rough entrance, and he pushed through it.
Inside the narrow cave the footing was rugged and climbed steeply. Soon he emerged from a glassy cave pool, noting the familiar glass globes hung suspended from the dark walls. Each globe contained a liquid that gave off a soft white glow, reflecting on the water’s surface with a ghostly shimmer.
Drying himself with a thought, he headed deeper into the cave, cradling the bottle of wine in the crook of his arm. About thirty feet from the water the cave narrowed abruptly, slabs of rock forming a roughly rectangular doorway. A tall, white-haired man in an old-fashioned linen shirt and homespun breeches appeared in it now, pale blue eyes gleaming.
“Welcome, old friend,” the Oracle said, his voice low but still retaining a faint Irish lilt. “I see you got my message.”
“I did.” Poseidon raised the bottle. “And I bring tribute. From my son’s private wine cellar.”
The Oracle’s eyes brightened. “Bythos? Aye, that lad always had a knack for picking vintages. Come in, then, and be welcome.”
Poseidon followed him into the back part of the cave. The anteroom was where the Oracle met those who traveled to his cave to learn the will of the Fates. From there, he accepted tribute before giving them their pronouncements. Behind the doorway, however, was the Oracle’s private chambers.
The light dimmed a bit, but the sea god could still clearly see the amazing hodgepodge of items collected by his friend over the centuries. Gold and jewels poured out of numerous wooden chests, some of them rotting with age and the ever-present moisture. Salvaged planks and driftwood sat piled in neat stacks, and various pieces of statuary were dotted here and there. In one corner, a peeling but still beautiful figurehead in the shape of a topless mermaid smiled at him in welcome.
The room was comfortably furnished with rare old pieces of carved furniture, rescued from the deep and carefully cleaned for their new owner’s use. Two chairs were arranged now around an elegantly chased brazier that filled the room with welcome warmth. He was waved to one seat, and the Oracle took the chair across from him.
“I’m glad you got here quickly,” the old man said, taking the bottle and deftly pulling out the cork. “I had the feeling that there was some urgency behind the Fates’ words.”
Poseidon accepted a filled golden cup. “Does this have something to do with the events of the past few months?”
The Oracle shrugged. “I’m simply the messenger. Only you can put meaning to the words.”
“Which are?”
Pale eyes focused on him, as if seeing into his soul. Poseidon repressed his discomfort. Once a mortal man named Donald, the Oracle’s association with the Fates have given him a gravitas that would give even Zeus pause.
“The wheel turns, and in its turning presents a gift,” he intoned. “To earn this gift, you must heal old wounds and regain the trust of those you betrayed. If you fail, you will never defeat the Maddened One.”
Poseidon waited until he was sure there was nothing more. “I assume the Maddened One is Thetis.”
The old man sighed, settling back in his chair. “Can you think of another crazed creature who needs to be defeated?” he said. “Do you know what the rest of it means?”
It was Poseidon’s turn to shrug. Healing old wounds could apply to any of the beings he’d quarreled with over the centuries. Gaia knew there were enough of them; he had a difficult, argumentative nature, and had made more than enough enemies in his long life. But he could see the point of having powerful beings on their side in the fight against Thetis. Have Bythos make a list of those who may be useful. The corner of his mouth twitched. Even the ones who currently loathe me.
As for a wheel that presented gifts, that would require some thought. The betrayed trust, however, could only refer to one thing. “It seems the Fates have decided to move into the field of marital counseling,” he muttered, taking a deep gulp of his wine.
“Ah.” Donald nodded over his own cup. “The lovely Lady Amphitrite. I take it you still haven’t reconciled with her.”
“I don’t care to discuss it.
Donald waved it off. “As you wish. But if the Fates say that you’ll need Amphitrite at your side to defeat her sister, then you might want to pick out some nice posies and work on your groveling.” He saluted Poseidon with a golden cup. “Just a suggestion.”
The sea god grunted at that. “Groveling didn’t work. Neither did flowers,” he muttered, taking another sip. And then another. “My head on a pike — that might do the trick.”
Donald made a deep, throaty sound that could have been agreement or censure. “Aye, and there’s some that say the lass deserves just that. But you can’t be lopping your head off now, friend. It needs to stay on your shoulders, where it’ll do the most good against Thetis.”
“Oh, will it? I can’t stop Thetis, you know. I tried.” The admission pained him, and he waved his cup, grimacing. “After her minion poisoned Bythos, I tried to hunt her down. I couldn’t find her. I’m the bloody God of the Sea and she’s a Nereid, part of my demesnes. I should have been able to find her.” He shook his head. “But now she’s…something I’ve never seen before. She’s been removed from my control, somehow. And that disturbs me greatly.”
The Oracle’s eyes narrowed. “How could she have moved beyond your control?”
Poseidon grimaced. “You know very well how. And if that’s the case, then this entire planet is in the gravest of dangers.”
“Have you talked to Gaia about this?”
“I tried. She’s not speaking to me, either.”
“Hm.” Donald fell silent, and Poseidon could hear the sound of dripping water and the ancient stone around them murmuring to itself. He’d always assumed that the position of Oracle must be a lonely one, but dwelling here in the living bedrock, his friend might have far more company than he’d ever assumed. “Well, then you must rely on your own counsel, and fight Thetis as best you can with the allies at hand. And from what the Fates say, that includes Amphitrite. I would suggest you go find her and tell her what I’ve told you. It might help.”
Poseidon drained his cup, placing it on the floor. “You’ve set me a difficult task, my friend. Almost Herculean, if you’ll pardon the phrase.”
The old mortal chuckled. “Better you than me, lord.”
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Mid Week Tease: Deep Water #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. I have to be honest with you — I’m hip deep in NaNoWriMo and I didn’t really have time to find a sexy teaser to share with you.
Soooo — I’m sharing a scene from my NaNoWriMo novel with you. And what is it, you ask? Why, its Book Three of the Olympic Cove series, Deep Water! (If you want to see the very first scene in the book, page back a blog post.)
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
Poseidon, God of the Sea, has spent millennia alone due to a single terrible act — a drunken assault on his agapetos, or fated mate, shared with his consort Amphitrite. His queen has sworn never to forgive him for his actions, and he must live with the knowledge that he drove an innocent girl to a dreadful retribution.
But when one of the Olympic Cove cottages gets a new occupant with an all-too-familiar soul, Poseidon discovers that the Fates have given him a second chance. Now he must try to right the wrongs of the past and win back both his beloved consort and the mate he betrayed.
Assuming, of course, that the Mad Nereid Thetis doesn’t interfere…
Heather contemplated her newest acquisition, absently tapping a purple feather duster against one thigh as she pondered. Now where should I put it? Garden statuary? Library decor?
For a junk store masquerading as an antique shop, the Lady’s Touch held some genuine treasures for those willing to search through its many, many shelves. Heather was relieved that few of the mortal shoppers who came in to browse ever noticed that the interior dimensions of the store didn’t quite match the exterior dimensions (except for that nice Englishwoman, she thought fondly, Verity something. Such a good eye for spatial differentiation).
As the interior size of The Lady’s Touch developed a certain elasticity over the years, its display system had become rather haphazard as a result, and now she wasn’t quite sure where to store the bust currently sitting on her counter. Perhaps Halloween decorations?
A warm, familiar presence bloomed at her back. “Hy, do you have time for some tea?”
She turned. Behind her stood a tall, lovely woman with long dark hair caught up in a tidy chignon. The woman’s casual but tasteful clothing — designer jeans, silk shell top, and Jimmy Choo flats — didn’t quite fit with the t-shirts and jean shorts of the local tourists, but didn’t make her stand out terribly either. She looked like a rich young matron slumming it in a seaside junk shop.
Until Heather looked into her eyes. They held an ancient pain that seared the soul.
“Oh, crumpets,” she said, tossing the feather duster onto the counter. “What’s he done now?”
“Nothing exactly, but—” The Nereid stopped, staring at the bust. A flash of bitter emotion flickered across her face. “Where did you get that?”
Damn, damn, damn. She hadn’t even thought about the bust. “I bought it at an estate sale,” she said. “It’s genuine marble, you see, and the woman who sold it said it had been sculpted by her uncle, some sort of local artist. It’s really rather well done, but I didn’t know you were coming in, otherwise—”
Amphitrite gave her a pained look. Heather realized she’d been babbling. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Er, I’ll just put it away, then.”
“No. It’s all right.” The Nereid reached out to the bust, one fingertip trailing over the creamy stone. She traced a high cheekbone, a beautifully full lip, the wide, strong brow.
Heather noticed she avoided the sinuous shapes curled around the bust’s head. “It doesn’t really look like her, of course,” Amphitrite said absently. “But then again, that’s hardly surprising. Most people never look beyond the snakes.”
With a sound she desperately hoped was supportive and not as grunty as she suspected it really was, Heather hefted the bust and bustled off. Halloween decor it is.
When she returned, the store was empty. She stepped to the door and flicked the OPEN sign over to CLOSED, then headed to the tiny office tucked in the building’s front corner. She dropped her disguise as she did; the curly red hair and green glasses disappeared, replaced by her true form as the Nereid Hyacinthe.
She entered the office, pleased to see that Amphitrite had found her electric kettle and filled it. A teapot, a bottle of milk, two mugs carrying the shop’s logo, and a plate of snickerdoodles were already out on her desk.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Amphitrite said as the kettle clicked off, wisps of steam rising from its spout. “I just really need some tea. Or wine, if you have it.”
“Not at the moment, sorry,” Heather said, thinking about the bottle of merlot upstairs in her apartment. The last thing Amphitrite needed was to start drinking this early in the day. “Let me just mash this up and we’ll have a nice talk, yes?”
After the tea had been poured, the sisters settled on either side of the desk, mugs and snickerdoodles in hand. “So, Poseidon,” Heather prompted. “What’s he done now?”
“Well … nothing,” Amphitrite said slowly. “Not exactly, anyway. I was at the cove this morning for a therapy session with Nick Gardiner and his mers.”
Once again Heather was impressed by the breadth of mortal training her sister had picked up over the millennia. “Nice to see you using your psychology degree again,” she said over the rim of her cup.
The Nereid shrugged. “Yes, well, afterwards I went over to the boys’ cottage to ask Aphros about a recipe, and Poseidon was there with Bythos and Ian. I assume they were having some sort of war council.”
“Did Poseidon say anything to you?”
“He offered to step out so that I could speak with Bythos.”
“And?”
“That was it.”
She weighed her next words. “Did you want him to say anything else?”
Amphitrite slumped in her chair. “I suppose it’s childish of me to want him to grovel every time I see him.”
“A bit, yes.”
The dark-haired goddess nodded gloomily. “We’ve done so well, avoiding each other for all those centuries. And now we wind up meeting twice in six weeks.” She grimaced. “I mean, I knew it would be possible if I agreed to be Nick’s therapist, but there’s a difference between knowing something intellectually and actually having it happen to you.”
“I know,” Heather said sympathetically. “Perhaps the two of you could set up some sort of schedule so that you don’t have to run into each other?”
Amphitrite raised a curved eyebrow. “Custody of Olympic Cove? That’s a thought. Although I can’t see him holding to it.”
Heather made a muffled noise of agreement into her tea. She’d been the sea god’s sister-in-law long enough to know that he’d ignore an agreement if it suited him. “You sure he didn’t say anything else to you?”
“No. Just stood there like a self-important martinet and looked constipated. Although I do think he tried to smile once.” Amphitrite pursed her lips. “I’m surprised his cheeks didn’t crack.”
The other Nereid chuckled at that. “Well, why don’t you arrange to meet with Nick, Aidan and Liam somewhere else? You could always use my apartment for day sessions.”
Amphitrite let out a slow breath, studying the tan liquid in her mug. “That’s very kind of you, darling, but I don’t feel comfortable bringing the mers into a human settlement,” she said finally. “Things are rather tense between them and their grotto as it is. I don’t wish to add more stress if I don’t have to. I’ll just have to bite the bullet and accept that I may see Poseidon now and then. It won’t kill me, after all.”
“Yes, one of the benefits about being an immortal, I suppose.” Heather took a quick nibble of her cookie. “Of course, it might not be a bad idea, you know. Talking to him, I mean. I think the mortals call it ‘getting closure.’”
The air in the small office grew chillier. “I don’t see how I could achieve closure with Poseidon,” Amphitrite said evenly. “Unless he did something really spectacular, such as, of, I don’t know, immolate himself in a volcano. I might be willing to watch that.”
Heather winced. “Ammie, you know I’m on your side with this. What he did was cruel and utterly heartless. But that was also thousands of year ago. At some point, you have to let it go, for your own sake.” Her voice gentled. “Tell me truly — do you even remember how she looked?”
Those sea-blue eyes clouded over, looking inwards at something Heather could only suspect. “I will always remember how she looked,” Amphitrite murmured softly. “She had large eyes, light brown, like those of an owl. Her nose was small and straight, and turned up at the tip. When she laughed, the entire room seemed to light up. And even though she was small she always stood up straight, modest and attentive, the perfect handmaiden.” Her expression hardened. “Until Poseidon betrayed her. And me.”
Heather flinched from the grief and rage in the Nereid’s eyes. “I’m sorry, sister. I didn’t mean to dredge up more pain for you.”
The dark-haired goddess shook her head. “You didn’t. That’s the problem. I carry it with me always. And that is why I cannot achieve closure with Poseidon. The bastard drove our agapetos away, and I can never forgive him for that.”
“Even though you miss him?” Heather regretted the words the moment they slipped out.
But Amphitrite simply nodded. “Even though I miss him. And I’m not sure who I hate more for that. Him, or myself.”
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Mid Week Tease: Trickster or Treat #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! This week we Mid Week Teasers are celebrating Halloween with teasers from our paranormal works. And since Delaney and Mark have been on my mind recently, here’s a special Halloween scene from my Trickster series (yes, there will be a sequel).
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
With care, Delaney decanted the hot cider from the pot into two glass mugs, inhaling the crisp, fruity steam with relish. It was rare that Dallas got chilly enough for spiced cider before December, but a cold front had pushed through the area along with a handful of thunderstorms, bringing autumnal temperatures just in time for Halloween. His coyote wanted to be out in the fields that still dotted the outer edges of the Metroplex, hunting the last of the rabbits and enjoying the crackle of browning foliage under his paws before the earth put itself to bed for winter.
Barring that, a monster movie marathon with his mate was a more than acceptable alternative.
He grabbed the mugs and carried them carefully through to the living room. The lights had already been turned down and Mark was in his spot on the couch, idly spinning the remote in one long-fingered hand.
“That took long enough,” he commented, accepting one of the mugs. “Coffee would have been fine, really.”
“Hell, no. I’ve been waiting for this for months.” Delaney took a seat next to Mark, deftly keeping the cider from slopping over while he slid an arm around his mate. “Try it.”
Mark rolled his eyes but obeyed. And blinked in surprised appreciation. “Wow.” He smacked his lips. “That’s got quite a kick.”
“Now you know where all the rum’s gone.” Delaney took a careful sip from his mug, savoring the hot fluid rolling over his tongue. “God, I love this kind of weather. So what are we watching?”
Mark squinted at the stack of DVD cases on the TV stand. “Our marathon kicks off with your favorite and mine, Re-animator.”
“Stuart Gordon, black humor, and gore — oh, my,” Delaney said, taking another sip of cider. “What else?”
“After that we have An American Werewolf in London, and then I thought we’d wrap it up with Dracula.”
“Lugosi, Langella, or Oldman?”
“Oldman — I’m in the mood for something OTT.”
“Works for me,” Delaney said, pulling Mark closer as the smaller man hit PLAY. Only part of his attention was on the screen as a maniacal Herbert West briefly brought his mentor back to a gruesomely eye-popping life. The rest of it was on the irresistible smell rising from Mark’s skin, a combination of salt, clean musk, the faint tang of alcohol, and a hint of spice and fruit. He leaned over and nosed a curl away from the lobe of Mark’s ear, inhaling.
“I thought we were going to watch horror movies,” Mark said, sounding amused.
“Mm, maybe I just wanted to get you on the couch and ply you with alcoholic cider,” Delaney admitted, brushing his lips against the sensitive patch of skin under Mark’s ear. Goosebumps rose on his mate’s skin, and he licked them gently. “You don’t mind, do you?”
He pulled back to judge his mate’s expression. Storm-blue eyes met his own, turning dark with the need that always crackled between them when they were alone. “Not really,” Mark said, grinning. “Should I stop the DVD?”
“I don’t think Mr. West will mind,” Delaney said, plucking the mug from Mark’s hand and putting it on the end table with his own before pressing closer to his mate’s welcoming heat. “Now, then, where was I…”
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Fabulous Friday Reads: The Perfect Shoot
Today I have the talented Lea Bronson on the blog with her pyroclastic new erotic romance The Perfect Shoot, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Here are a few words from Lea on the origins of the book:
Thank you so much for having me on your blog!
Who hasn’t been infatuated with a sexy poster boy – actor, pop star, or football hero – even though he was unobtainable? The heroine in my Hot Model Mine series is a thriving author and hard-working mother nearing her forties. Tough, independent, and having long ago lost faith in love, she dismisses her crush on the cover model of her book to protect herself. What then can she do when that gorgeous young man surprisingly falls for her, too?
I hope you enjoy this tale of ‘impossible’ love, dead-honest and written with my heart.
When Andrea Johnson, writing as author Cindy Vega, signed up for a Meet & Greet with the cover model of her latest book, she didn’t expect sparks to fly. Yushka is dangerously good-looking and too young for her. But their connection is instantaneous, and during a photo shoot with the two, the photographer picks up on their growing attraction. Seeing the potential for the cover photo of the century, he decides to push their comfort limits…
Story Excerpt
An assistant calls Yushka’s name. Bare-chested, the Asian hunk appears from a group of models, strolls to the spotlights, and waits in front of the camera with the confident stance of a professional.
The whole place quiets as if in awe. He’s unbelievably beautiful with his tanned, bulging muscles and washboard-abs-to-die-for. When photographer Lemaître asks him to undo his hair, a black waterfall lands on his shoulders and down his back. A few muffled feminine squeals fill the silence.
One by one, authors whose books he appears on get a few pictures taken with him in flattering positions, wrapping their arms around his back or swallowed up in his embrace, beaming like schoolgirls at their first prom.
Jealousy rips through me so violently I can barely breathe, but my time is up soon, and I hate that even more. I’m non-photogenic, and seeing pictures of myself makes me sick. I’ve chosen a sexy, black top and matching short skirt for the occasion, but looking my best doesn’t help. My stomach ties in a knot.
“Cindy Vega,” an assistant calls.
Fuck, that’s me. I’m dead.
“Go,” Laurie says, giving me a small push.
All muscles tense, I leave my safe corner and join Yushka. He greets me with a placid face, but from the warmth in his pupils, I get a feeling he’s glad to see me. Side by side, narrowing our eyes from the piercing light, we face Lemaître and wait for orders.
Damn. Being so near Yushka’s naked torso is unbearable, as is the heat from the lamps shining on us. Sweat beads roll down the sides of my chest, between my breasts. He endures, too. A thin film of sweat coats his golden skin, making it glow, but he doesn’t seem bothered.
Lemaître clears his throat. “Bon. Stand a little closer. Cindy, this is for Eden Luna Publishing’s website. Officially, we want authors happily meeting their cover models, but off the record, we want sensual, we want heat. Readers will get off seeing your pictures like they do reading your books.”
Stiff as a rod, I nod agreement. I’d half expected this. Problem is, I hate being in the spotlight with so many people watching, and I hate the notion of having my photo all over the internet.
“Sooo,” he continues, “I will ask you to just stand like this, facing me, and smile. That is all. Yushka knows what he has to do.”
“Okay.”
Turning to my side, Yushka puts a hot hand on my stomach and the other on the small of my back. Though light, his touches destabilize me, as does the warm, musky scent sneaking to my nostrils.
“Closer,” Lemaître orders. “Bodily contact.”
Shit, I’m fucked.
The stud radiates heat as he approaches, sweaty chest sticking to my arm, heart beating against my skin. His crotch barely brushes my hip, but each pore in my body becomes acutely aware of him, on high alert. As last night’s intense arousal replays in all of me, my inner thighs clench with renewed want.
Whispers and low chuckles sound from both sides of the vast lobby. I try to forget the hundred eyes following my every move, but can’t help being distracted, bathed in full light and painfully self-conscious.
“That is better.” Like a shooting gun, Lemaître’s camera clicks and the flash blinds me repetitively. “Now, give him a smile, Cindy. You know the kind I want.”
My throat so dry I can’t speak, I turn to Yushka.
He’s very near, inches from my face, black pupils gleaming with mischief. Sweat pearls on his face, making him look sexier than ever. Long, black hairs glue to his forehead and cheeks. He smells of soap, his close shave making him look baby-faced.
Seemingly at ease, the heaving of his chest regular, he stares into my eyes. I can’t believe his confidence. Modelling is his profession, but how does he stay so fucking calm?
“You wanna give me a smile?” he whispers, warm breaths brushing my chin. Behind me, his large hand sneaks lower and palms my butt cheek. With that and his other fingers splaying on my stomach, he pulls me to him, making me feel the entire length and…hardness…of his cock on my hip.
I suck in a breath.
His lips curl up in a self-satisfied grin. “Hm, Andrea? You wanna give me a smile?”
Oh my fucking God. I can’t help but obey while my insides go up in flames.
Flashing his teeth, he kneads my ass with a strong hand and pushes his full erection against me. He knows what he’s doing, the devil. He knows slowly rubbing me with his cock turns my pussy to burning liquid.
Somewhere, a feminine gasp breaks the silence, followed by contained laughter.
“Très bien, we have a smile,” Lemaître says, camera clicking, flash shooting. “Thank you, Cindy, that will be enough. Next!”
Still grinning and holding my look, Yushka slowly backs off, leaving chillier air between us.
I’m frozen. In shock, lust, need.
“Come on, move it!” Lemaître calls. “We don’t have all day.”
No shit.
Where to Buy
Evernight
Amazon.com
Amazon.uk
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
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About Lea Bronsen
I like my reads fast, hot, and edgy, and strive to give my own stories the same intensity. After venturing into dirty inner-city crime drama with my debut novel Wild Hearted, I divide my writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and dripping erotica.
Where to find Lea Bronsen
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. No sex in this one, sorry, but let’s explore Sam and Kat’s relationship a bit more, shall we?
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Kat wandered out of her room, humming to herself. The various negotiations were going well, even better than she’d hoped. Schoengraff was still being stiff-necked about meeting with them, but Arthur was looking for ways to convince the board to come to the table. The telegram she received from the headquarters of Tracy Electrics that morning was brief and to the point: BUY ANYTHING NEW FOR WEDDING?
Uncle William had no trust in modern technology, or the people who kept it running, and had already sent her a series of coded telegrams that would make little sense to the telegram operators who sent the messages. She smiled when she told the operator to send a reply telegram with BOUGHT SOME LOVELY THINGS. STILL LOOKING FOR PERFECT GOLD RING. He would understand the precious metal was a reference to Schoengraff.
To her surprise, she saw Sam seated by the fireplace, chin propped up on one hand as he stared into the flames. She stretched out on the sofa, warming her feet. “I would have thought you’d be in bed by now,” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m not tired.”
“Mm.” She stretched her arms over her head languorously. “Tonight was fun. Those dancers were delicious, weren’t they?”
Another twitch of his shoulders. “I suppose.”
She made a moue. “Well, that doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself at the time.”
He turned from the fire, his expression drawn. “Yes, the dancer was great. I came like gangbusters. Are you happy?”
Kat blinked at the unexpected tongue-lashing. “I — I’m sorry. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to bed.”
“Sam.” He stopped in mid-rise, and she hesitated over her next words. “Please, darling, talk to me. Perhaps I can help.”
He sank back onto the chair. “You’re good, kitten, but you can’t help with this. Nobody can.”
The expression on his face was painfully familiar. She got up and crossed to him, sinking down to the floor so that she could rest her arms on his knee. “You haven’t called me kitten in years,” she pointed out.
“That’s because you bit me the last time I did.”
“I was ten. I thought it was a baby name.”
He reached out and stroked her hair. “You always were the fierce one, weren’t you? Bart and I never stood a chance with you around.”
She took a deep breath, aware that she was treading on tender ground. “I know you miss him. So do I.”
“I know.” He turned back to the fireplace. The flickering light played across his face, revealing the slight glassiness of his eyes. “I was wondering what he’d think of us. What we’re doing.”
“You mean getting married? I think he’d understand.”
“No, not that. What we’re doing here in Berlin.”
“Oh.” She rested her chin on her crossed arms. “I don’t think he would mind. He’d want you to be happy.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not.”
She paused, unsure of how to proceed. “Is it … are you unhappy with me? I thought you didn’t mind my little games.”
He shook his head again, taking her hand and holding it. “It’s not that, kitten. I enjoy playing with you. It’s just…”
And then the pieces came together. “It’s the colonel, isn’t it?”
Sam gave her a weary smile. “I know I’m being ridiculous. He’s just as normal as he can be, after all. And he’s only doing this for the money. It’s all just fun and games. Stupid fun and games, nothing more.”
The misery on his face was tangible. She wanted to throw her arms around him and protect that huge, gentle heart from getting hurt yet again. “Oh, Sam. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” He shook his head. “I keep telling myself this is temporary, that he doesn’t feel the way I do. That he doesn’t want me. So I should just enjoy what I can get, right?” The glassiness in his eyes increased. “It’s not helping, though. I keep wondering what Bart—”
He cut off a sob. Kat jumped to her feet, gathering him in a hug as her own tears started. His arms unexpectedly wound around her waist, pulling her into his lap. She realized why when he buried his head in her shoulder to muffle his tears. “Oh, my sweetest boy,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “I’m so sorry.”
She remembered when the two Army officers had showed up on Uncle William’s doorstep with the telegraph from the War Department. Uncle William had taken her into his study an hour later, his eyes bloodshot from unshed tears, and informed her that he’d given the Army permission to busy Bart at Flanders Field. Sam came home soon afterwards, his right leg amputated, a lost and broken shell of the man she’d remembered and her brother had loved.
For Bart, she’d gone to the Hellmans’ home on her own every day without fail, climbing the grand staircase to the second floor where Sam lay like a corpse in his narrow boyhood bed. All the hours reading to him, talking to him, trying anything she could think of to bring him out of his shell. When the doctor finally gave him permission to try walking on his wooden leg, she was the one who had cajoled him to stand up, take the first few steps. Slowly, his body healed, although he would never again look like the happy boy he’d been with Bart. His mind eventually followed, finding its way out of the fog left by the war.
His heart, though, was still bleeding over Bart’s loss. Sometime during his recovery he carefully built a briar fence around it, thick brush and dagger-like thorns shielding himself from anyone but her. He’d had dalliances here and there since the end of the war, often with her complicit assistance, but all the men were nobodies, working class types or low-ranking soldiers passing through Bridgeport on their way home. He wouldn’t let himself love anyone, not the way he’d loved her brother, and when she proposed marriage she’d seen the flash of bitterness in his eyes. She knew she was the closest he would ever come to being back in Bart’s arms, a consolation prize that was no prize at all.
They sat there for a time, united in their love for a dead man, with the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. Finally Sam gave a shuddering sigh. “I don’t know why you put up with me, I really don’t,” he said.
She smiled against the soft brown strands. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured. “It’s probably why we’re such good friends.”
“I think you’re right.” He leaned back, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry about blubbing all over you.”
“Don’t fret. I’ll dry.” She touched his face, wiping the traces of moisture away from his eyes with a careful thumb. “Do you want to go to bed?”
“Eventually.” A corner of his mouth quirked. “Oh. Were you inviting me to sleep with you, kitten?”
She forced a fierce look. “It’s Kat now, darling. Don’t make me bite you. Again.”
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Fabulous Friday Reads: Invicta Sanctuary
Let’s kick off this lovely October weekend with Piper Kay and book two in her Invicta series, Invicta Sanctuary from Hot Ink Press.
What is your sanctuary? For Mickey, he never needed one, he was his own. Until now. In a situation spinning out of control, Mickey is forced to make a move and he’s not sure how to handle it. He’s an intelligent, self-reliant man who never depended on anyone for anything, but now he is alone for the first time in his life, scared. By accident, he ends up at Invicta, the hottest new male go-go dance club in town. Owners, Kade and Holt, know the behavior all too well, but Mickey’s trust factor is leveling out on zero, until he spots Toryn. Sometimes sanctuary can be found in the strangest of places.
Story Excerpt
That young, dark haired, and tatted up hottie grabs me right off the bat. He can’t be more than twenty-four tops. Just right. He’s been poured into those leathers, his ass packed in nice and tight. Firm. They might as well have wrapped the man in saran wrap, not that I’d complain either way. He’s finally announced, but it’s probably a stage name he uses. Who even cares? As long as he keeps shaking himself around, I’m all good. The man rocks to the beat of the music. He pops that majestic ass in perfect tune with the thumps blasting from the speakers. Done like a true power bottom and personally, I’m enjoying the hell out of it. His hips begin to roll in a perfect circle, as he pivots on one foot to his side. He coils himself all the way around twice before facing the front. I’m loving his body movements. Someone stick a fork in me, because I’m sizzling… I think I may have just fallen in love with the man on the stage and those ‘fuck me hard’ hip moves.
Where to Buy
About Piper Kay
Piper Kay is a homegrown country girl straight from the outskirts of Houston, Texas, USA. She is a #1 International Best Selling author of LGBT Erotica, and an International Bestselling author of LGBT Erotica romance, gay romance, specifically in the male/male (m/m) erotica genre, and LGBT drama. Piper is bringing her passion of storytelling straight to the pages, most times served with a super-sized sprinkle of sexy, a slice of sarcasm and a carafe of crazy.
Where to find Piper Kay
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
As Friedrich approached the hotel room door, he heard the soft sound of piano music drifting through it. He hadn’t seen a phonograph in the room, but doubtlessly the Fräulein could order one up if she was in the mood for music.
He knocked, and the piano music ceased. A moment later Sam answered the door in his shirtsleeves. “Colonel, good to see you,” he said, admitting Friedrich into the suite. “I’m afraid Kat’s still primping for the evening. We may have a bit of a wait.”
“That’s quite all right.” Friedrich followed the limping American into the parlor. To his surprise, Sam sat down at the grand piano, long fingers drifting skillfully over the keys and teasing out the melody he’d heard in the hall. “I didn’t know you played piano.”
“Since I was a boy.” Sam moved over a bit on the bench and nodded at the space. Careful not to jostle, Friedrich sat next to him. “Mother made sure I had lessons, like all the little well-bred little monsters in our clique. I think I was the only one who actually liked to practice. Making music is one of my favorite things in the world.”
Friedrich let himself relax, listening to the tune Sam coaxed from the instrument. “That’s very nice. What is it?”
“Just something I’ve been noodling around with in my spare time.”
“You write your own songs?”
“Mm-hm, and lyrics, too.” Sam’s smile fell a bit. “Although Bart was always better at the music part than me. We used to talk about running away from Connecticut and heading down to New York City, try our luck at writing songs for the Broadway shows. You know, like Irving Berlin and Cole Porter.”
Friedrich could easily see Sam in something natty, strolling down a brightly lit street on the way to his opening night. “Why didn’t you do it?”
One shoulder rose slightly. “Lots of reasons. Uncle William might have let Bart go for a year or so, just to sow some wild oats and get it out of his system, but my father never would have let me do something as plebeian as write for Broadway.” His fingers touched the keys softly. “And then the war happened. Afterwards, well, there didn’t seem to be much point in going anywhere. So I just play for myself these days.” His mouth curved. “And friends, of course.”
Friedrich was surprised by the warmth he felt at Sam’s admission. “Would you play something for me? Something of yours, I mean.”
Brown eyes blinked at him. “Really? You don’t have to flatter me or anything if you don’t want to hear it.”
“No, I’d like to hear it. I can’t play anything myself, but I like to listen.” Lilli was an accomplished pianist, and going to Oskar’s house and listening to her after-dinner performances of Beethoven and Schubert had been a delightful occurrence.
“Okay. Well, then.” Sam paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “This isn’t finished yet, but I really like how it’s going. Tell me what you think.”
Rippling through a minor flourish, he started playing a melody that was beautiful and wistful at the same time. Softly, he sang:
Across the ocean blue,
Across the sea so wide,
We’ll find a place to go,
And there we’ll both abide.
The storms will never part us,
I swear on Heaven above,
My home is where your heart is,
My ever after love.
He stopped singing, although he continued to play softly. “It needs a little work, obviously, as well as a bridge.”
The emotion in the song brought a lump to Friedrich’s throat. “It’s about the Fräulein’s brother, isn’t it?”
“Bart, yes.” Sam stared at his fingers on the keys. “I miss him. Five years on, and I still miss him.”
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Wicked Wednesday Reads: Unexpected (Planet Alpha)
It’s time once again to help you over your Hump Day and spice up your week with the newest Planet Alpha adventure from J.J. Lore, Unexpected. Trust me, J.J. knows how to deliver sexy SF!
As two Alphan warriors on the fast track to promotion and improved status, Mikel and Felix of the Tauride have their future planned out. They intend to go from performing security duties for the Prince while he visits Earth to eventually earning the right to seek out their human mate and rescue her in some dramatic way, impressing her and earning her love. But a chance encounter with a lovely young woman sends them both down a markedly different path.
Shy Alisa Sorrel merely wanted to see a rose garden, then retreat back to her safe and sequestered life in the Women’s Refuge on Earth, but once she encounters two earnest and determined Alphan officers, she’s forced out of her shell and into a whole new world of passion.
Even as the bonds they share tighten and satisfy needs they’d never imagined, Alisa, Felix, and Mikel are soon faced with danger and betrayal from the machinations of humans and Alphans alike. The Alphans will have the chance to rescue their fair damsel after all, but will they make it in time?
Story Excerpt
Felix looked down at her and watched her eyelashes flutter as she stared at the door, her body trembling slightly. A faint drift of her scent trickled into his nostrils, and he sucked it in, the primal urge to learn her signs compelling him to sniff, stare, touch, and taste the woman who would be bound to him and Mikel. Desire filled him, strong and hot like a blazing fire, and he wrapped his arm around her body, pulling her tighter because he couldn’t stop himself. She tensed and turned her head to gaze up at him. He knew he should release her, not frighten her any more than she already had to be, but before he could move, Alisa let out a little sigh as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder.
He stiffened with shock, but his body took over before his mind could catch up as he held her tight, stroking her shining brown hair like he’d wanted to since he’d first seen her. The sensations of her full breasts and round thighs sliding against him heated his blood and made his staff throb and harden. Twin pangs of pain echoed from the roof of his mouth as his tesak budded. This primitive response to her presence was the last bit of encouragement he needed. She was meant for them, like no other woman ever would be. She wriggled against him and slid her hands along his back muscles like she gained some comfort from the movement. He desperately wished there were no garments separating their skin. Lowering his head toward hers, he dared press his lips to the warm, smooth skin of her temple as fragrant wisps of her hair tickled his nose.
With a sudden inhalation, Alisa drew back and stared into his eyes. Felix froze. Her mouth opened slightly as if she was going to say something, but instead of speaking, she merely tightened her grip on his shoulders. She wasn’t rejecting him. With that realization, heat flooded through his body, anticipation of bonding with her in all things gave him the courage to cup her cheek and lean close. He waited a beat for her to show any sign of hesitation, but all she did was close her eyes.
At the first brush of her lips, his tesak burst out, his body’s primal signal to capture her essence both a pleasure and pain. He’d kissed a few other human women, but all past experience was swept from his mind as he tasted Alisa. Her sweet, warm mouth opened under his as she shuddered against him. Licking at her, he buried his fingers in her hair. Her full lips caught at him, the soft friction driving him to press his tongue against hers. She quivered, and he stiffened, his instincts shouting for him to rip her clothes from her body, to lower her to the floor and press his aching staff deep inside her luscious quonum.
A strong grip on his arm brought him out of the intense caress, and he stared for a moment at Alisa as she gasped in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. Another squeeze on his arm broke the trance, and he turned to see Mikel frowning at him.
“You were growling loud enough to draw attention,” his bondmate spoke in a low voice with a glance at the door. Felix glimpsed the curve of Mikel’s own tesak, and he rejoiced. Alisa was theirs, but not if they were discovered and exiled from Earth as punishment. Chagrined, Felix tried to collect himself. He’d been so overcome by her he’d forgotten the peril of their situation. Mikel glanced down at Alisa, and his gaze softened. She blinked up at them, a bright pink blush blooming in her cheeks. Their beauty, soon to be claimed.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
About J.J. Lore
J. J. Lore needs three things; strong, black coffee, time to write, and…well…you can guess the third. When she isn’t inventing fantastical tales filled with passionate people, she’s shaking sriracha on whatever she’s eating or reading about the Justinian plague. For updates on her erotic romance releases, visit her at http://www.jjlore.com.
Where to find J.J. Lore
Marvelous Monday Reads: The Bear Treatment
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, pumpkins! Today I’m featuring Doris O’Connor and her yummy bear shifter novel The Bear Treatment. And now, here’s Doris!
Thanks so much for having me here today with my new release The Bear Treatment.
There is nothing worse than being dumped by your boyfriend is there, even if that person turned out to be a right schmuck. Louisa doesn’t have much luck in the boyfriend department, mainly, because the one man she really wants is way, way, way out of her league—or so she thinks.
In her words…
He was so way out of her league it wasn’t even real. Not only because he was very much a Dom, but also because Louisa didn’t have the first clue how to be what he looked for in a woman. After all, he would no doubt want to settle with another shifter like himself.
Somehow she didn’t think a smart mouthed, overweight, thirty-something, fresh out of yet another failed relationship, screw-up like her, would be his idea of the perfect submissive.
Little does she know that this Dom has just been biding his time and when she turns up in his spa, ready to experience a taste of the lifestyle, she is in for the bear treatment…
There’s nothing quite like being dumped by another good-for-nothing boyfriend to focus a girl’s mind. Fun has been missing from Louisa’s life for far too long, and a bit of wax play at the spa-with-a-difference is just what she needs to take her mind off her birthday.
What can possibly go wrong? It’s not as though the man she’s been secretly lusting after for years would turn up and see her in all of her wobbly bits glory, or give her one mind blowing orgasm after the other, is it?
That would mean she is getting the bear treatment. You know the one—ends up being mated to one droolworthy, dominant, bear shifter—and ticks off the council no end. One thing’s for certain. After this birthday nothing will be the same again.
Story Excerpt
When he bit down on her clit her orgasm rushed through her with so much force that she screamed and bit her lip hard enough to taste her own blood, in an effort to muffle that scream.
They were on top of a crowded restaurant, for God’s sake. If she turned her head she could see the people dining below. All it would take was for one of them to look up and they would see her sprawled along the table with Luke once again lapping at her cream as she gushed her juices into his waiting mouth. The thought that one of the diners would look up, made her orgasm burn hotter, and with her body still shaking in delicious aftershocks she almost didn’t notice the slight pressure against her little puckered hole until Luke slipped a slick finger wet with her own arousal knuckle deep into her ass.
She would have bowed off the table had his hot hand on her tummy not held her down, and she lost herself in the heated stare of his golden eyes as their gazes connected.
“That’s my girl.” His voice had dropped an octave, dripping in lust, and her body went limp under his possession. “This ass and this pussy are mine to do with as I please are they not, my sweet Lou?”
He pushed deeper into her butt, and she gasped at the burning pain of another finger slipping past that ring of muscle. Discomfort gave way to heat when he started to thrust those two fingers in and out of their tight confines, and added the thumb of his other hand to her clit and rubbed that sensitive bundle of nerves in small circles designed to push her over the edge once more.
The strange sensation in her ass awakened unused nerve endings, and she clamped around his digits, increasing the heady sensations bombarding her.
“That’s it, my sweet. Ride those fingers. I can’t wait to see your little hole stretched with a butt plug to prepare you for my cock, and you will let me take you back here, won’t you?”
The veins on his neck stood out, his smile showed his fangs, and with the eyes of his bear looking down on her he never looked more the wild animal he had inside than right now. The thought should have terrified Louisa, but instead it had the opposite effect on her. She was his prey, his for the taking, and the thought turned her on even more.
“Yes, yes, God yes, I’m yours to do with as you please, Sir.”
Her whispered answer made him step up his assault on her senses, and everything inside of her drew tight as she climbed up those rungs of lust until the world narrowed to just the feel of his fingers in her ass, and his big body covering her.
Luke bent closer, not once slowing his fingers as they fucked her into another orgasm, and then he kissed her. His tongue mimicked the action of his digits, and she kissed him back until her lungs screamed at her they needed air, as her body shook in the grip of the tremors wracking through her. She winced when he withdrew his fingers from the tight clasp of her ass, and then gasped when he shrugged out of his shirt. The man’s torso was magnificent and sprinkled with liberal amounts of hair that she wanted to run her fingers through. His pectorals flexed as he threw the shirt across the room, and she let her gaze admire the play of muscles. The way his hair thickened to a dark trail that acted like a beacon to his magnificent cock. Despite her earlier attention to that particular body part, he was once again erect. Veins ran along the length of the impressive organ, and the thick mushroom head glistened in the muted lighting of the room. Louisa licked her lips, suddenly desperate for another taste of his salty musk, and Luke laughed. Low and menacing, the sound was more animal than human, and set her arousal to fever pitch.
“Not this time, my sweet. This time I want to bury my cock into your tight cunt. I want to see your lips stretched around my girth, as you struggle to take all of me, but you will, won’t you, pet? You’ll milk my cock like the good little subbie you are, and you’ll gush your cream all over my dick again and again, won’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.” How she managed to force the words past her kiss swollen lips she would never know. Her gaze was riveted to his cock, where Luke was fisting himself slowly. He squeezed the tip of his dick until his pre-cum slid on his fingers and with a wicked grin held those digits up to her mouth.
Louisa opened up eagerly, only too willing to taste him again, and she groaned when he hooked those fingers inside her mouth holding her in place while he ran the tip of his erection through her wet slit repeatedly. He bumped into her clit at every upstroke, sending jolts of electricity through her system, and her nostrils flared as she tried to breathe through her nose.
“Look at me, pet.”
His rough command made her eyes snap to his again, and she swallowed hard around the digits in her mouth. The intensity of his golden gaze was hard to take, as he pinned her in place with the sheer force of his will.
“You’re mine, and when I sink my cock into your cunt, I’m going to sink my fangs into your flesh and mark you as mine.”
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
Amazon UK
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
About Doris O’Connor
Glutton for punishment would be a good description for Doris… at least that’s what she hears on an almost daily basis when people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children, pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all, like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
Where to find Doris O’Connor
Website
Blog
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Evernight Publishing
Amazon
All Romance E-Books
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Mid Week Tease: Behind the Iron Cross #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. This week, I’ll be sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my historical MMF romance set in 1923 Berlin. No sex in this one, sorry, but yonder lies character development!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Hellman, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Sam stumped along the pavement, deftly avoiding the bustling sections of the downtown crowds. Part of him felt sorry for Kat, trapped in yet another business meeting. He’d come to the first few days of them out of a sense of loyalty and to fly the flag, and wound up bored out of his mind.
Then again, he reasoned, it was hardly a surprise. His father had been trying for the best part of thirty years to instill a love of business in him, and nothing worked. A few days in a Berlin conference room certainly wasn’t going to spark some latent interest in the fine art of manufacturing electrical equipment.
He sighed. It would have been so much easier if Bart were still alive. He could have run Tracy Electrics with Kat, satisfying the stodgy board of directors, and Sam could continue to be their mutual best friend and Bart’s secret lover. Instead, he was engaged to Kat and had to let himself be groomed as the heir apparent to Tracy Electrics. It was a joke, and everyone knew it except for those ten old men who gathered around an oak conference table and fancied themselves the arbiters of who should be worthy enough to run Tracy Electrics once William decided to retire. Personally, Sam dreaded the day.
Trying not to think about his unappealing future, he continued down the street, keeping a weather eye out for a decent restaurant or cafe. Ahead of him, a tall man came out of an office building. Sam surreptitiously studied his ass.
And recognized it. He looked up and saw Friedrich von Bader, desultorily studying a sheet of paper that appeared to be a list of some sort. His traitorous heart skipped a beat, then raced ahead. He’d never seen the colonel outside of Kat’s company. It felt like a secret treat, running into him this way.
He wondered if he should go up and say hello or just turn around and continue looking for a restaurant when Friedrich glanced up and saw him. To his dismay, the colonel went white.
Trying to ignore the surge of hurt at the German’s obvious fear of being seen with him, Sam decided to be perverse and walked over anyway. “Hello, colonel,” he said in a brisk tone. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Friedrich furtively glanced around the street, then took Sam by the arm and half-dragged, half-guided him into a shuttered store entryway. “What do you want?” he demanded.
Sam’s eyebrows went up, and he carefully shook his sleeve out of the German’s grip. “Nothing. I just wanted to say hello.”
The other man looked like he didn’t believe him. “I’m serious,” Sam insisted. “I saw you coming out of that building, and I thought I would say hello. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Friedrich still looked incredibly uncomfortable, but some of his tension eased. “I’m sorry. I — never mind. Hello.”
That was more like it. Sam’s good mood returned. “Say, I was going to grab some lunch,” he said. “I don’t suppose you could recommend a restaurant in this area?”
The German turned, quickly studying the street. “Landau’s is a block down that way, on the right. Their Königsberger Klopse was very good, the last time I was there.”
“Königsberger Klopse?”
“Meatballs made from veal and anchovies. It’s served in a white sauce with capers and eaten with potatoes.”
“Oh. Yes, that does sound good.” And then, inspiration struck. “Look, would you like to have lunch with me?”
To his dismay, the colonel went pale again. “Eat? With you?”
“Well, yes,” Sam said, puzzled by the reaction. Good Lord, man, it’s not as if I’m asking you to suck me off between courses. “I don’t like to eat alone, and Kat’s busy at the office. So if you didn’t have anything to do…”
Friedrich looked away. “I … I have things to do.”
“Of course, I’m sure you do,” Sam said quickly, not wanting to trample on the man’s pride. “But you could take a break and have lunch, right? It’s on me,” he added. “I’ll pay for it, I mean.”
Friedrich hesitated, glancing around. Then he seemed to sag. “What do you want for it?”
That stung. “Nothing,” Sam said. “I just wanted some company, that’s all. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.” He shrugged, turning to go. “Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll see you later, I guess.”
He limped off, hating the mild churning in his gut. If he doesn’t want a free meal, to hell with him. I was just trying to be nice, which was obviously stupid of me. Damn Germans, all of them so stiff-necked and pains in the ass—
“Wait.”
He stumbled, and a strong hand wrapped around his arm, steadying him. He turned in time to see Friedrich give a small, hesitant smile. “I apologize for my rudeness. It has been … a difficult day. But I will have lunch with you, if you still want me.”
Sam swallowed hard. Oh, I want you. That’s the problem, isn’t it?
But they were in public, and even in Berlin he couldn’t pull Friedrich into his arms. He forced a blandly pleasant expression and nodded. “Where’s this Landau’s, then?”
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Nicola Cameron Writes 