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Excerpts from: ELLORA’S
CAVEMEN:
JEWELS OF THE NILE II
An Excerpt From: AFTER
DARK
Copyright ©
KYANN WATERS, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to walk into a bar, pick out
the hottest guy in the place, take him home and fuck his brains out?” Kayla
March sat across from her best friend Nita at the local brewhouse,
Coffee Grounds. She sipped a latte with an extra shot. Caffeine equated to
energy and she needed a jolt.
“Absolutely not,” Nita said.
“Well, I have and tonight I intend to make it happen.”
Yesterday, the final divorce papers arrived in the mail.
Kayla was single again after seven years of marriage.
“I’m glad my grandma isn’t around to see this day. She
loved Tom.” Kayla fingered the bloodstone ankh pendant around her neck.
She’d found it in her grandmother’s belongings next to a picture of her deceased
mother. An ankh symbolized eternal life. Knowing that, wearing the pendant
gave her comfort. She hadn’t taken it off since.
“She’s the reason you married him,” Nita said. “I loved
your grandma, too. She was a sweet lady, but she controlled your life.”
“She wanted what she thought was best for me.” Kayla
sighed, and then shrugged away the gloominess. When Grandma died Kayla had
lost the only family she had left. “Maybe that’s why I stayed with Tom for
so long. I knew the marriage was a mistake five minutes after the
ceremony.” It hadn’t taken Kayla long to realize Tom saw marriage as a
shortcut to financial independence with Grandma’s money. More than that,
Grandma had ensured that even after her death, Tom controlled the money
because Grandma had declared him executor of her will.
Oh, he’d been proud to have her on his arm in public,
but once the door closed she existed in a private hell of indifference. Tom
had never been abusive, but inflicted deep wounds nonetheless. And,
although they’d had sex occasionally early in the marriage he’d never given
her an orgasm. No one had given her an orgasm. Apparently, that was her
fault as well. Determination swelled within to prove she wasn’t frigid, she
wasn’t a cold-hearted bitch, and she was indeed sexy, intelligent and
desirable.
Kayla wanted to experience passion, hot as hell, and
without consequence. And she told Nita so. “Does that make me a slut?” She
twirled a lock of her shoulder-length hair around her finger.
Nita snorted. “No, but maybe slightly desperate.”
“Desperate I can live with.” She pulled a napkin from
the dispenser. “I heard about this new club called After Dark. I want to
check it out. I have this feeling about the place.” She touched the pendant
again. Whenever she thought of the club, the bloodstone in the center of
the ankh warmed her skin. It had to be a sign.
An Excerpt From: FROM THE
SEA
Copyright ©
MAXIE COOPER, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
He came from the sea—naked, wet and hard. Moonlight cast
blue shadows along his skin, turning it to chiseled marble. Hair as dark as
midnight clung in thick ribbons to his bare shoulders. His cock stood
straight and proud, as if raised in silent worship of the night.
From her enclosed patio overlooking the private beach,
Kelli could almost see it pulsing in the pale light of the moon. Or maybe
that was simply a trick of the light coupled with an overactive
imagination. She stared a little longer, just to be sure.
Thick and long and perfectly shaped, it was the most
beautiful cock she’d ever laid eyes on. Not that she’d seen that many to
compare it with. There’d been a series of forgettable relationships in her
not-so-wild youth, followed by a regrettable marriage that dragged on
longer than it had any right to. Since her divorce she’d been celibate by
choice, relying on fantasies to relieve the sexual frustration.
None of those erections—either in her memory or her
fantasies—could compare to the one before her, glistening in the moonlight.
With a conscious effort she tore her gaze from the
phallic masterpiece. Slowly, devouring every luscious inch, she scanned up,
up, up…along lean hips, over tight abs, across broad shoulders and—oh
sweet Jesus!—that face.
Michelangelo himself could not have done justice to the
singular beauty of the man before her. There wasn’t an actor in Hollywood who
wouldn’t gladly go under the knife to achieve even a tiny measure of such
physical perfection. If Kelli had tried to conjure a perfect love god, her
imagination would have fallen short.
She pressed a hand to her chest, as if to silence the
wild beating of her heart. When he tilted his head in her direction she let
out a startled gasp. He seemed to be staring straight at her. But that was
impossible. She was hidden in the darkness of the patio where she’d fallen
asleep…was it only a couple hours ago?
She checked her watch. It was five minutes past twelve.
Her fertile mind imagined him stepping out of the sea at the stroke of
midnight.
Stroke.
Of course her mind went there.
Glancing back at the moonlit beach, Kelli was surprised
to see that he’d moved closer to her cottage, still staring in her
direction. Was it coincidence or could he somehow see her huddled deep in
the shadows?
A tremor of fear quivered along her spine. She’d rented
this beachside cottage seeking privacy, a place to relax and paint without
the constant clamor of the outside world. The isolation had been exactly
what she was looking for. Now it felt ominous. Who would hear her if she
screamed?
An Excerpt From: LADY’S
CHOICE
Copyright ©
REBECCA AIRIES, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
A large dark-haired man wearing the dark green Calazi uniform stepped into the room. His broad
shoulders and tall muscled body made the doorway seem smaller than it was.
His green eyes swept the room and locked on her. A wide smile curved his
lips, softening the harsh rugged lines of his face.
“I thought you might be here. We saw you in the hall as
you were coming this way but I don’t think you saw us,” Commander Finn Tarn
offered, a friendly smile on his face. The crinkles at his eyes creased the
black tattoo at his temple.
No, she hadn’t noticed him this time. She had seen him a
few other times and knew that “we” must mean the other black-haired Calazi commander. That black hair was almost the only
thing they had in common. This man reminded her of a fierce powerful
warrior, especially with his flatter nose. The other man wasn’t flabby, but
the muscles weren’t as obvious beneath the sun-touched gold of his skin.
The Calazi intrigued her. As a
people, they were inventive and adaptable. They’d had to be to survive on a
dying world. Their culture was very different from the Laurati
culture. She’d always wondered how their social structure had come to be. Calazi males had a tendency to join with another male
as lover and partner, then together they would
choose a woman to complete their bond.
“Actually, I didn’t think anyone was in this section,
Commander Tarn. Do you know if this is going to last long? I don’t know if
any of this is perishable.” Kyna gestured to the
boxes but didn’t take her eyes off the large, very attractive man in front
of her. She wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to look at him.
He frowned as he studied the boxes. “No, that shouldn’t
have anything perishable. It should be plates and utensils. As to the power
I don’t know. This isn’t a planned downtime. I’m afraid until it comes back
on, we’re stuck in this section. Come on out into
the dining room.”
“I have to stay with the boxes until the kitchen staff
claims it.” She was more than tempted to just leave the boxes and join him
but she focused on her duty and her goals. If she wanted to advance, she
couldn’t make any stupid mistakes. She had to stand out in dedication and
performance. Especially with her history being what it was.
He looked at her, his head tilted to the side as he
considered her. She knew he was thinking of ways to change her mind. She
didn’t try to tell him he wouldn’t succeed. A man didn’t get to his rank
without a certain arrogance. Besides, she enjoyed
hearing that deep voice and the company even though his size made the room
seem even smaller.
He strolled over to her, unhurried and confident.
Stopping right in front of her, he was close enough to touch—and too
tempting. His musky essence teased her nostrils. She tensed her muscles to
keep her hands at her side. She kept reminding herself that he was her
commanding officer. He was off-limits.
His hand lifted and trailed over her cheek. Her breath
locked in her throat. Her surprise kept her totally frozen. She’d never
expected him to touch her. This close, she could see the heat in his green
eyes. She couldn’t mistake his interest. She gulped and just stopped
herself from shaking her head.
His finger traced over her lips. “Are you sure you want
to stay in here?”
She managed to nod.
An Excerpt From: SUNRISE
Copyright ©
NATASHA MOORE, 2008
All Rights Reserved,
Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
I stroll down the well-worn path from my cottage to the
lake, trying not to break into a run. My pulse races for no real reason
except for the hope that rises within me. The tall grasses brush against my
bare legs, reminding me of his fingers trailing along my skin. The setting
sun throws streaks of pink and yellow across the horizon and the beauty of
it stops me in my tracks. I left my easel in the garden. Maybe I should
have carried it with me tonight. Or at least my camera to capture the
colors.
But my heart has been stuttering in my chest all day
long and I don’t want to bring anything but myself to the beach tonight.
Perhaps it is only wishful thinking. Perhaps he is never coming back. It’s
been weeks since he last met me on the beach. Weeks since his expert hands
played my body like his private instrument.
I tell myself I’m here for the sunset, but my body
recognizes the lie. I start walking again and my breasts feel heavy as they
move with each step I take. I tied on his favorite bikini top tonight, the
skinny blue one. I didn’t bother with the bottoms, simply wrapping a short pareo bursting with tropical flowers around my hips. My
pussy throbs with anticipation. The flesh swells and moistens as I remember
the joy his mouth and hands can bring.
The breeze picks up, tearing at my hair and pulling
strands of it free from the clip that holds it away from my face. The beach
is deserted, as it usually is this late in the day.
No, there are a few teenagers down at the other end, laughing and drinking
beer. They won’t pay attention to a woman nearly twice their age, walking
by herself. If they notice me at all, they’ll
probably feel sorry for me, walking the beach alone.
I take my sandals off when I reach the sand. The grains
sift between my toes and I wiggle them in delight. The sand is still warm,
like the breeze blowing across my heated skin, drying up the beads of sweat
that roll down my chest. I make my way slowly down to the water, the sandal
straps dangling from my fingers.
I won’t look for him. If he appears out of the gathering
darkness, he won’t catch me searching the shadows for his wide shoulders
and long-legged stride. I keep my gaze fixed over the lake, the water
reflecting the streaks of color. The sun is now reaching the horizon and,
as always, I’m amazed at the speed with which it sinks into the water. Does
the earth really revolve that quickly?
Why does time sometimes fly like that? The hours we
spend in each other’s arms are over in an instant. Yet the last six weeks
have crawled by. How slow will the rest of my life move if he doesn’t come
back this time?
An Excerpt From:
SURRENDER DOROTHY
Copyright ©
ANNA J. EVANS, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Lions, and tigers, and bears…oh
my.
Gelsey Carland
took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on Aunt Em’s
ripped hem, then on the cold concrete beneath her knees and finally
resorted to mentally quoting lines from the play in a last-ditch attempt to
regain her shattered focus.
None of it worked.
Who was she kidding? Who gave a flying fig about lions
and tigers and bears when the Tin Man was standing in the doorway in
nothing but his steel gray bodysuit, waiting for her to strap him into his
can?
God, I’d like to have him strap me
to something—like maybe that pole in the corner. He wouldn’t
stop until he’d laid me bare, until he’d run the cold
metal of my sewing scissors between my breasts and—
“Is there a problem, dear?” Aunt Em,
also known as Cora, bent down to peer into Gelsey’s
face.
“Nope, no problem. Almost done.” Gelsey
smiled and prayed her lustful thoughts hadn’t shown in her eyes.
Cora had forgiven her for being a sorry excuse for a
costume designer, but X-rated daydreams would get her fired. She might look
like a sweet little old lady, but Finley,
Indiana’s resident drama
queen didn’t tolerate fraternization between the summer theatre staff and
the visiting actors. If she even suspected Gelsey
was lusting after Mackenzie Fellows, Cora would kick her out of the summer
stock housing faster than Gelsey could say
“there’s no place like home”.
Considering the past few weeks had been some of the
calmest Gelsey had ever known—the power that had
been her curse since she was a girl having been wonderfully inactive in
this small town—she didn’t want to do anything to risk her newfound peace
of mind.
“In fact, you’re good to go. You look great, Cora.” Gelsey smiled.
“Good. The meet and greet is already in progress. If I’m
going to woo potential donors, I have to get out there. What about you,
Fellows? Will you be meeting and greeting?” Cora’s voice sweetened markedly
as she turned to address the man in the doorway.
But who could resist talking sweet to a bronze god with
dark brown hair that hung in waves down to his shoulders, bright blue eyes
you could drown in and a body that could make a dead woman drool?
An Excerpt From: THE
DEBUTANTE
Copyright ©
SAMANTHA KANE, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Dominic, Viscount Lethbridge,
eased out the open door of the ballroom onto a terrace that was almost as
crowded as the dance floor. He vowed, again, that this was the last time
his mother would talk him into attending one of these god-awful
marriage-market affairs. The unattached females and their predatory mamas
made this quite possibly the most dangerous place in England for
an eligible, titled male. He looked around for Jeremy Benford,
his best friend since their school days and a frequent partner in Dom’s
sexual misadventures. Knowing Benford, he’d
managed to escape out here at least half an hour ago, with a toothsome
widow no doubt.
Several young ladies grouped together at one end of the
terrace turned in his direction with gleaming eyes and bashful snickers and
Dom made a hasty retreat down the stairs into the garden, taking the first
path he saw into the shrubbery. Thank God Merwell
had a forest of trees back here to hide in. He’d look for Benford from there.
Once in the trees Dom searched the visible terrace for
his friend to no avail. The trees followed the line of the house, and Dom
rounded the corner to the side of the building. There were several lamps
burning there, and another door from the ballroom. As Dom watched, a small
figure furtively snuck out the door and then leaned back against the wall.
It was a woman, a girl actually from the look of her plain white gown, one
of the debutantes. Was she meeting someone? A young man, perhaps, for an
assignation? Dom smiled in anticipation. He liked watching almost as much
as participating.
Suddenly the figure stood away from the wall in alarm,
the tense lines of her body telling Dom something was wrong. It was then
the voices carried to him. Someone was coming. In the blink of an eye the
girl ran from the house into the trees, several yards away from Dom.
He stood perfectly still, not wanting to reveal himself.
His reputation was such that a virginal young lady of quality would
probably swoon to find herself alone in the woods
with him. He could see her more clearly now, and wondered if her white
dress would give her away to the small group of young men spilling out the
door.
She was pretty in an unconventional way. A little plump
with large breasts, not at all the fashion, but Dom liked it on her. She
looked as if she’d be a soft, pleasant ride. She’d seemed smaller when she
came out the door, but on closer inspection she came to his shoulder at
least. Her hair looked dark in the shadows of the trees, absorbing the wan
moonlight that filtered through the leaves and reflecting it back as a
shimmering gleam. That gleam intrigued him. What color was it? He liked
brunettes, liked to see their long dark hair spread across the bed as he
fucked hard into them, the contrast of dark hair and white sheets arousing.
He surprised himself with the thought. He never
fantasized about these virginal little debutantes. It was an exercise in
futility. They were too well guarded, and more often than not too ignorant
of men to satisfy his fantasies. So why this one? She had intrigued him the
moment she snuck out the door. He could barely discern her features in the
dark, and yet he found his cock hard imagining fucking her in a room lit by
moonlight, that same gleam in her hair as it streamed across his bed.
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