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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.
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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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