Satin Pleasures (25 page)

A bomb?
Lightning?

Whatever it was ruined a perfectly good fishing trip.

As suddenly as it all began, it was over. The supercharged air dissipated like it had never been and his hair returned to its usual resting place. His clothes stopped crackling. The water, roiling moments ago, returned to a serene and placid lapping against the side of his small boat. The geese took up their honking as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Bandit suddenly leaped to her feet and jumped onto the bench seat he’d just dived off of. Her curled tail wagged fiercely as she yapped at something just out of his sight.

Ears still ringing from the blast of lightning, he pulled his knife from its sheath at his waist and lifted his head just enough to see over the edge of the boat.

An unconscious woman
floated,
face up, at the water’s edge.
Naked.
Her head was toward shore in no more than three or four inches of water, leaving the rest of her long, willowy body floating alongside his boat. Was she dead? That’s all he needed. Dead body, 9-1-1 call, and fifteen hours at the police station saying, “I don’t know,” until his tongue was bleeding.

Shit. He didn’t dare get in the water and risk immediate electrocution. Bandit had no such inhibitions.

“No!”

Too late.
The little wet rat swam happily to the woman’s side and sniffed her hair, sopping wet tail wagging like a mop waving him into the water.

“You little turkey.”
With a sigh, he jumped over the side after his crazy dog into knee deep water then leaned over the woman, feeling for a pulse. His shoulders relaxed when the steady beat of her heart thrummed beneath his fingertips. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm as if she were in a deep, dreamless sleep. No blood. No lacerations. No bumps on the head or obvious injury. She was, in a word, perfect.

But who was she, and how did she end up here?

Book 2 - Chronicles of the Taken: Silver Storm coming soon!

Book 1 - Chronicles of the Taken: Red Night now available.

http://www.michelecallahan.com/

Excerpt Gnome On The Range By Jennifer Zane

Chapter One “I’m not sure which one I want. I didn’t realize there were so many choices!”

The woman wasn’t on the hunt for a new car or juice boxes at the grocery store. Nope. She wanted a dildo. I called her type a Waffler .
Someone who contemplated all options before even attempting to make a choice.
Because of Miss Waffler , I had ten different dildo models spread out across the counter. Glass, silicone, jelly and battery powered. She needed help.

That’s where I came in. My name is Jane West and I run Goldilocks, the adult store my mother-in-law opened back in the seventies. Story goes she named it after the fairytale character when a mother bear and her two cubs walked down Willson right in front of the store the week before it opened. She called it fate. Or it could have been because her name is Goldie, so it made sense. I started working for her when my husband died, a temporary arrangement that helped her out. Three years later, things had turned long-term temporary.

The store was tasteful considering the offerings. The walls were a fresh white, shelves and displays just like you’d find at the typical department store. Then tasteful made way for tacky. Gold toned industrial carpet like you’d see in Vegas, a photo of a naked woman sprawled artfully across a bearskin rug over the counter. A sixties chandelier graced the meager entry. Goldie had to put her unique stamp on things somehow.

It wasn’t a big store, just one room with a storage area and bathroom in back. Whatever she didn’t have in stock—although you'd be amazed at the selection Goldie offered in such a small space—we ordered in. Montanans were patient shoppers. With few options store-wise in Bozeman, most people ordered everything but the basics from the Internet. There’s one Walmart , one Target, one Old Navy.
Only one of everything.
In a big city, if you drove two miles you came across a repeat store.
Urban sprawl at its finest.
Not here, although there were two sets of Golden Arches.
One in town and one off the highway for the tourists who needed a Big Mac on the way to Yellowstone.
The anchor store of the town’s only mall was a chain bookstore. No Nordstrom or Bass Pro Shop out here. You shopped local or you went home.

In the case of the woman in front of me, I wished she’d just go home.

Don’t get me wrong, I liked helping people and I’m comfortable talking sex toys with anyone. But this time was definitely different.
Big time.

Behind Miss Waffler stood a fireman.
A really attractive, tall, well muscled one wearing a Bozeman Fire T-shirt and navy pants. Can you say hot ?
A hot man in uniform?
Yup, it was a cliché, but this one was dead-on accurate. He’d come in while I was comparing the various dildo models before I went into the perks of having rotation for best female stimulation.
The first time.

“Can you explain the features of each one again?” Miss Waffler had her fingers on the edge of the glass counter as if she were afraid to touch them. Petite, she was slim to the point of anorexic. Her rough voice said smoker, at least a pack a day. Her skin was weathered, either from cigarettes or the Montana weather, and wrinkles had taken over her face. She’d be pretty if she ate something and kicked the habit.

I gave her my best fake smile. “Sure.”

I darted a glance at the fireman over the woman’s shoulder. Sandy hair trimmed military short, blue eyes, strong features.
Thirties.
A great smile.
He seemed perfectly content to wait his turn. If the humorous glint in his eye and the way he bit his lip, most likely to keep from smiling, was any indication, he was clearly enjoying himself. A radio squawked on his belt and he turned it down. Obviously my lesson on sexual aids was more important than a five-alarm fire.

Miss Waffler was completely oblivious of, and unaffected by, the fireman. I now knew why she wanted a dildo.

I picked up a bright blue model. “This one is battery powered and vibrates.
Three settings.
Good for clitoral stimulation.” I put it down and picked up another. “This one is glass. No batteries, so it’s meant for penetration. The best thing about it is you can put it in the freezer or warm it and it provides a varied experience.”

The woman made some ah sounds as I gave the details. I went through all the possibilities with her one at a time. I got to the tenth and final model. “This one is obviously realistic. It’s actually molded from the erect penis of a porn star. It’s made of silicone and has suction cups on the base.”

Fireman peered over the woman’s shoulder as I suction cupped the dildo to the glass counter.
Thwap .

“You can attach it to a piece of furniture if you want to keep your hands free.”

Both fireman and Miss Waffler nodded their heads as if they could picture what I was talking about.

“I’ll take that one,” she said as she pointed to number ten. The eight inch Whopper Dong.

“Good choice.”

I rang up Miss Waffler’s purchase and she happily went off to take care of business.

And there he was. Mr. Fireman.
And me.
And dildo display made three.

“Um…thanks for waiting.” I tucked my curly hair behind an ear.

“Sure. You learn something new every day.” He smiled. Not just with his mouth, but with his eyes.
Very blue eyes.

Right there, in the middle of my mother-in-law’s sex store, dildos and all, there was a spring thaw in my libido. It had long since gone as cold as Montana in January. Who could have blamed it with all of my dead husband’s shenanigans? But right then I felt my heart rate go up, my palms sweat from nerves. The fireman didn’t seem the least bit phased by my little sex toy talk. I, on the other hand, was having a hot flash like a menopausal woman just looking at him.

“I’m Jane. What can I help you with today?”
Hi, I’m Jane. I’m thirty-three. I like hiking in the mountains, cross-country skiing, I’m a Scorpio, and I want to rip that uniform off your hot body.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts.

He laughed and held out his hand. His grip was firm, his skin warm and a little rough.
“Ty.
Thanks, but no toys for me.” A pager beeped. He looked at it briefly and ignored it.

“Don’t you need to answer that?
A fire or something?”
I asked.

“Cat up a tree,” he joked.

I laughed, and heard my nerves in it. I took a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart. It didn’t work. All it did was make me discover how good he smelled. It wasn’t heavy cologne. Soap maybe. I didn’t really care if it was deodorant. He smelled fabulous.

“Actually, it was for station two. I’m here for your fire safety inspection.” He placed papers on the counter. Had he been holding them all this time? I hadn’t noticed. For the next fifteen minutes we went over fire inspection paperwork with an elephant in the room the shape of a dildo.

http://jenniferzane.com/

Excerpt

Tame
A Wild Heart By Cynthia Woolf

Chapter 1

Flames licked through the canvas wagon cover. Great billows of black smoke escaped through the top. Horses whinnied. Men shouted. Cattle bawled. The scene was utter chaos.

Catherine Evans shouted orders, turning as a big black stallion charged into the fray. The large man on his back countermanded her orders and barked out his own.

Duncan McKenzie.

Nudging her own stallion, Wildfire, with her knees, she intercepted them. “This is my ranch and my men. I give the orders here. Where the hell have you been? You’re a week late.”

“I came when I could.” Duncan turned to join the men.

“No, you stay.” She whipped around to face the men beating at the fire on the wagon. “Forget the wagon. It’s lost. Get those cows.
Now.”

After the men scattered she rounded on Duncan. “When you could, isn’t a good enough answer. This is a working ranch. I have to be able to depend on every man here. And if I can’t, then I don’t want them. I don’t even know why Dad sent for you anyway. We don’t need a gunslinger.”

“James has his reasons for asking me to come. As for a gunslinger, the need has yet to be seen.”

She disregarded his response. “You know about field dressings and I’ve got a man missing and probably hurt. Zeke was driving one of these supply wagons. I could use your help.”

She galloped to the other side of the camp, riding around debris thrown from the supply wagon. Burlap sacks once full of coffee and beans littered the ground beside empty flour and sugar sacks. Tinned food lay bent, smashed under cattle and horse hooves. Ignoring the destruction, she went straight to an overturned supply wagon.

Duncan reined in beside her. “The whole place looks like a battlefield.”

“It is a battlefield and if you’re here to help, then do it.”

“I don't see anyone.”

She stopped rifling through loose pieces of debris and cocked her head toward the wagon. “Did you hear that?”

There was a weak and distant groan. Catherine saw a muddied, work worn black boot sticking out from underneath.

“It must have upended during the stampede. Zeke was driving. We have to get him out.” She let out a shrill whistle and Wildfire came running to her side. “Good boy.”

She freed her lasso from the saddlehorn , dallying up the front wagon wheel. Duncan did the same to the rear wheel.

“Let's flip the wagon over. When I holler, you have that horse of yours pull.” She made sure both ropes were tight.

“Now!
Pull. You too, Wildfire, come on boy.” The wagon came slowly up and over onto its wheels, wood creaking as it bounced on its axles but it held together in one piece.

She ran around the wagon to the man on the ground, checked for bullet wounds and found none. The wound on his head bled profusely, as they are want to do, but didn’t appear too deep. Running her hands over him, she found his right leg broken. “Zeke, are you all right? Zeke, can you hear me?”

She looked up at Duncan. “It’s broken. It’ll need to be set before we can move him. I can’t do this on my own. I don’t have the strength to set the leg properly. Will you help?”

“Sure. I need two straight pieces of wood and something to bind them.” He took his knife and cut Zeke's pant leg open to see how badly the leg was injured. She could see the bone hadn’t broken the skin and there was no bleeding, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He could stabilize it enough to get the man to a real doctor.

Catherine returned with a couple of loose boards she’d ripped from the wagon as Duncan started to cut off Zeke’s boot. He hesitated when Zeke moaned, clearly in agony.

“Miss Catherine, is that you? What happened?” He was in obvious pain, but still lucid.