Saturday, October 24, 2015

Pre-Order Time!

Tempted, Twisted, and Taken (MFM)

 Inline image 1


AVAILABLE: Monday, November 2nd

[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, HEA]

Structural engineer Autumn Johnson only has eyes for her career. But destiny throws her a twist that puts Engine Company Lieutenant Zach Torren and lead paramedic Casey Macon in her sights. She’s had her fill of obnoxious men in the fire service, but Zach and Casey are determined to show her how hot and enjoyable fate can be.

Zach knows how to put out fires. He knows how to keep them burning, too. The spontaneous flames that erupt when he meets Autumn need fuel, not water. But, someone wants her dead and, in the end, he'll need skill more than charm he to keep her alive.

It’s been years since a woman caught Casey’s heart. Autumn does it on sight, but is she everything Zach thinks she is? When her life is threatened, he pushes that question aside and focuses on keeping her safe. But, when he discovers who’s behind it all, it might be too late.


The firefighter’s voice was smooth and melodious, like an FM radio DJ’s voice. Autumn pulled her gaze up, skipped over the strong chin with a day’s growth of stubble, and paused at the slightly parted, way too kissable, set of lips. Her heart rate kicked into double time as heat unfolded in girly parts she’d thought had gone dormant long ago. Those lips moved as he spoke again.
“Are you okay?”
No, she absolutely wasn’t okay if her system was reacting to this man this way. Hadn’t her body learned anything? She tore her attention from his mouth, dragged it up the bridge of his nose, and met his gaze. Hazel eyes stared back at her with a mix of concern and unadulterated attraction flaming in their depths.
Firefighter. Firefighter. Firefighter!
Her mind screamed the word at her like a mantra as her traitorous gaze took a quick stroll over his short, light brown hair and drool-worthy face before locking on his eyes again. He was decidedly a young firefighter at that. Then again, since passing the big 4-0 last year, anyone under the obvious age of fifty had started to look young.
“I’m fine. I just wasn’t watching where I was going.”
His lips kicked into a charming lopsided grin. “Neither was I.” His gaze dropped, slid slowly down her body, and inched its way up again, drinking her in as if his eyes were straws and she was suddenly his favorite beverage. “I am now.”
Oh, God. That look absolutely should not have had her nipples beading to hardened points that poked against the cups of her bra. It should not have ignited a slow burn in her clit and had juices slicking her feminine folds.
But, damn it, it did.
“Again, I do apologize.” Needing to make a fast escape, Autumn kneeled to retrieve the bag she’d dropped when they had collided, unable to keep her gaze from taking in every long, stupendously toned, and­—oh, wow—outrageously packed inch of him clad in tight-fitting uniform pants and black combat-style boots.
Apparently having the same idea, he kneeled with her and reached for the bag. Their fingers brushed and a zillion volts of supercharged white-hot desire zinged up her arm.
No. No. No! Didn’t her hand know she wasn’t attracted to men like him? She had suffered more than her fair share of obnoxious, egotistical, I’m-too-hot-in-my-uniform firemen like him.
“I’ve got it,” she told him as she took the bag and quickly straightened. “Thanks. Have a good evening.” She started to walk around him, but his long fingers closed on her forearm, sending another unwanted zing ricocheting through her.
“Hey. You can’t run off without at least telling me your name.”
She took a deep breath and met his gaze again. Holy hormones! His hand on her arm coupled with the flames still present in his hazel eyes was more than enough to have her envisioning hot, sweaty bodies—his and hers—tangled in rumpled sheets.
“Autumn.” The way he repeated her name in that smooth, melodic voice added sound to her vision, the kind that had him whispering her name as he settled his narrow hips between her wide-spread legs. “Different, but beautiful. Do you have a last name to go with it?”
“That one’s not so different. It’s Johnson.”
“Zach Torren.” His hand slid down her forearm, leaving a path of sizzling heat in its wake as it closed around hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Autumn Johnson.”
Not so obnoxious. In fact, he was polite, well mannered, and too freaking nice. The man should’ve been covered in warning labels. Ones that read something like, Caution: Any form of physical interaction will result in third-degree burns and, Caution: Prolonged eye contact will be damaging to the system. Those labels might not be present, but the one on his shirt was enough to set off the sirens in her head, even if her body didn’t seem to hear them. Almost any man could give off the first impression of being a nice guy if he wanted to.
“You, too, Zach. Now, if you will excuse me.”
The radio on his hip squawked and Autumn’s belly churned at the sound. “Hey, Lieutenant. What’s your ETA? We’re starving out here.”
He reached with his free hand, snagged the radio from his belt, and keyed it up to speak. “Hold your horses. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
His other hand was still holding hers. She eased hers free and immediately felt the loss of the warmth from his touch as she started to back away. “It sounds like you need to go, too.”
“They can wait.” He took a step forward, reclaiming more than half the distance she’d put between them in a single stride. “Can I buy you a drink sometime? Take you to dinner and a movie?”
Yes, the sirens in her head were doing their job. They drowned out the screams of her body to accept his offer for a date and reminded her she had thankfully thought to put on her ring before leaving the house. That ring was her defense mechanism, her way of keeping herself from doing stupid things like forgetting the misery men had brought to her life, especially men like the panty-wetting lieutenant currently asking her on a date.
She held up her left hand, showing him the silver band and matching diamond ring on her third finger, and gave him her best apologetic smile. “I don’t think my husband would approve.”
Disappointment threw water on the flames in his eyes, but it didn’t put them out completely. “He’s a lucky man.” He turned slightly and bent at the waist to snag the handle of the basket she hadn’t realized he’d dropped when they had collided. When he straightened, he gave her a smile that sent more of those zings bouncing from one erogenous zone in her body to the next. “But I’m still glad you ran into me. Have a good evening, Autumn.”

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