Excerpts
A
Warrior’s Kiss, Collection Story #1
in the novella collection:
(Nicky and Zeke’s First Meet)
“Think he’s dead?” The whispered question
quieted his internal whining.
Nice voice. Soft and smooth, like velvet.
Feminine. Clearly, he wasn’t alone.
“He sure looks dead.” A second woman replied,
louder and with a chuckle.
He suppressed a scowl and kept his eyes closed.
She thinks this is funny?
Bodies shifted behind whatever his head had
cracked into, edging closer to either side of him.
“There’s no blood, though,” she of the velvet
voice murmured. “Shouldn’t there be blood? […].”
She came to a halt near his head, her body heat
and peaches-and-honey scent saturating his senses. He should open his peepers
and say something, see if the female looked as good as she sounded and smelled.
Shit. Where had that reaction come from? He had
no room in his life for a woman, especially not a mortal woman.
“Maybe we should check for a pulse,” the one
Peaches had called Maya suggested.
“I’m not touching his body.”
Fast reply from Peaches. Jesus, did he look so
horrible? And double Jesus, why did her opinion matter? He must have hit his
head harder than he imagined.
======
A
Demon’s Embrace, Collection Story #2
(Stryker
and Zara's Slow Burn)
Location:
Charon's boat, River Styx, the Underworld...
The
boat heaved upward as if struck from below, sending her airborne. Before she
could conjure her wings, Stryker shot up and snatched her around the waist,
hauling them both to the deck.
Flat
on his back with her sprawled atop his hard body, he grinned, much too pleased
with himself for her liking. “Told you it gets rough,” he shouted over the rush
of water. “I never lie to you, Angel Face.”
“That
in itself is a lie,” she shot back, wedging her fingers in the gaps between the
bone flooring and gripping tight while the chopping river tossed their ride.
He
laughed but the sound was lost in the great roar of the river.
“Buckle
up, baby.” Stryker held her tight to his chest. The boat bucked upward and
bashed down, again and again. Freezing water sprayed everywhere, drenching them
in seconds.
Cheek
to cheek, Stryker clutched her close with a hand cupping her head and one
massive arm banded around her torso. “Hang on Angel Cake, I’ve got you.” Warmth
slid into her quivering body, a soothing heat wafting from the demon. “Nice
trick, right?” he murmured into her ear, lips grazing her skin.
Teeth
chattering, she didn’t reply, too caught up in the sensation of his
surprisingly soft lips on the shell of her ear.
Desire
danced through her, followed fast by denial. No. Please, no. Eternal enemy.
Archnemesis. But her treacherous body relaxed against his.
“Yes,
baby. That’s it.” His hand slid to her nape, and he exhaled against the
sensitive skin of her neck, setting off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.
Nothing
good could come of a tryst with a demon. It didn’t matter how loudly the hum
chimed in her, or how wonderful his hard body felt under hers, they couldn’t
possibly—
Oh,
no, now his clever fingers kneaded the knots in her muscles, massaging the
tension from her neck and shoulders, making her melt.
His
warm lips brushed her ear once again. “Angel…”
Lord
help her, she wanted him.
===========
An
Angel’s Obsession, story #3
(Luke
and Elle’s First Re-meet)
Luke
was cannon-balled out of slumber by the sudden presence of one
hundred-and-fifty pounds of hound landing on his back.
Facedown
atop a supremely soft mattress with his arms stretched wide and his head
hanging off the foot of the bed, it took him a second to rally his speech
center. “What the actual bloody hell, Bolt?”
Bolt
ignored him, bouncing around Luke’s body, pitching him side to side, up, down,
up, down.
“For
feck’s sake.” What the double bloody hell was Bolt on about with all the
yapping and yipping and bashing of Luke’s kidneys with his big paws?
Luke
rolled onto his back. “Enough, Bolt. Sit.”
Bolt
whined and smacked one large paw down upon Luke’s bare chest. Ouch. “Duuude,”
he drawled. “Chill.”
Fingers
snapped, silencing his dog lickety-split.
Who
possessed the ability to boss his animal around and convince the stubborn
bugger to obey?
Only
one person in any dimension wielded this kind of puppy power. But no, it
can’t be her.
With
his heartbeat jackhammering in his chest, he sucked in a deep breath, soaking
in the unique floral scent of the woman who broke his rarely used heart, hoping
this was no mere post-party hallucination.
“Gabrielle,”
he whispered. God’s messenger and elite warrior, the angel he’d admired and
cherished. “Elle.” The woman he’d let down, and who ultimately walked away.
A
grin spread over his face.
“Angel
baby. You’re here.” He cranked open his eyelids to gaze up at her in wonder.
Lightning
crackled in the depths of her glittering green eyes as she loomed over him, her
unhappy expression promising pain. Yep, his angel was clearly not as thrilled
as he was about this unexpected reunion.
A
snarl escaped his angel’s throat, and her arm shot downward, her fingers of
steel snagging him by the throat and squeezing his windpipe.
“Luke.”
She uttered his name as if it were the vilest curse word in any dimension, then
lifted him with little effort and slammed him up against the wall…
================
An
Angel’s Treasure, Story #4
(Raz
and Maya in the Friend Zone)
Maya
smacked into a wall of muscle.
“Raz!”
She palmed his hunky chest and pushed.
He
didn’t budge. Instead, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, trapping
them against his pecs while he backed her against the fridge.
“Move.”
Wow, that order came out more like a question, and good grief, could her voice
sound any wispier? All breathy and needy? But damn it, touching him was doing
all sorts of lusty things to her insides, again, and they were not in the right
place or time to be—
Wait.
Hold the horniness. There was never a right time for them. Friends. Friend
Zone. The platonic zone.
Raz
towered over her, his pretty eyes practically searing into her soul. “Hey, you
all right?” His warm, warm fingers stroked the backs of her hands while the
cold metal of the fridge sent goosies down her spine.
“I’ll
be fine.” She yanked her hands out from under his and attempted to skirt around
him, but he planted his stupid big hands against the fridge on either side of
her, towering over her, caging her in.
Damn
it, he smelled so good, like clove, pine, and citrus. “I need to check on the
cookies.”
“No,
you don’t. You just put in that batch.”
“Again,
I ask, what do you know about baking? Zip, that’s what.”
“As
much as I enjoy our banter, TT, something is up, and we’re not moving until you
tell me.”
His
expression softened. “Let me help.”
“I’m
not some problem you need to fix.” She ducked under his arm. This time, he let
her go, much to her relief. And to no small amount of disappointment.
She
busied herself arranging the cooled batch of cookies on a platter.
“Maya.”
Oh,
man. He said her actual name instead of one of the bazillion nicknames he
seemed to have for her. She nibbled on the side of her lip and tore her gaze
off the cookie pile to face the source of her never-ending torment.
Brow
furrowed, he stared down at her, concern clear in his eyes. They always
darkened to forest green when he was upset, which was a rare occurrence for the
upbeat, positive man. Except when he was in battle mode, like the time a bunch
of creatures from Hell invaded Petaluma, and Raziel made his fiery sword appear
out of nowhere then killed every scary monster that tried to attack her—
Raz
tapped her forehead with his index finger. “You’re thinking very hard. Too hard
for a party. What’s going on in that clever mind of yours?”
“Nothing.”
“Mm-hm.”
He scanned her face. “You have a little something on your…” His gaze locked
onto her cheek, and before she could so much as blink, he stroked his thumb
over her skin, right near her lips.
Lips
that wanted to be kissed sooooo damn badly. By him.
Shit. She grabbed his wrist and opened
her mouth to lay into him as hard as her bantering skills would allow, to stop
herself before she snaked her hands around his neck and tugged his face closer
to hers to kiss—
Chimes
trilled.
The
air around them warmed.
Fireworks
burst to life near the vaulted ceiling, and a scroll winked into existence in
an explosion of pink and gold sparkles.
Holy
sugar sprinkles. The cupids had crashed the party.
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