Archive | February 4, 2015

FORBIDDEN by Charlotte Stein Blog Tour &Rafflecopter giveaway 2/4/15







FORBIDDEN (Under the Skin Series #2)

They
say I need help. Another exorcism. This is not new. This is my life. Today, I
expect to suffer at the hands of a man as warped by superstition and fear as my
mother. A man who will torture me in order to save me from things that don’t
exist.
But the
man who actually comes to me is different.
Killian
is good and decent, and he sees what’s good and decent in me. And I don’t mean
for it to happen, but every time he looks at me, his gaze sets me on fire. He
brings me to the light, gives me back my life. For the first time, I see a
future for myself.
A
future with him.
I burn
for Killian-a man who’s intent on protecting me. On healing me.
He
doesn’t get it. The only thing that can heal me is him. But Killian will soon
be a priest. Untouchable. Forbidden.
How can
I ask a man to choose between me … and God?






FORBIDDEN (Under the Skin Series #2)
AMAZON * B&N






Charlotte
Stein is the acclaimed author of over thirty short stories, novellas and
novels, including the recently DABWAHA nominated Run To You. When not writing
deeply emotional and intensely sexy books, she can be found eating jelly
turtles, watching terrible sitcoms and occasionally lusting after hunks.



For
more on Charlotte, visit: 
www.charlottestein.net
Twitter is @Charlotte_Stein


Chapter One

               I don’t know how long
I’ve been up here this time. Feels like days, but it can’t possibly be. If it
was days I would have peed myself. I would have made a mess or else starved to
death, yet somehow I don’t even feel hungry. Though really is that any kind of
surprise? My stomach is churning and churning at the thought of what might
happen soon. Every time it comes into my head all of this sickness rises inside
me, and only the idea of having to lie here with puke stinking me up puts a
stop to it.
The
room is rancid enough as it is. Momma shut the windows ages ago, and the heat
is making me sweat. I can see it shining on my bare arms and taste it
salt-sharp on my upper lip, and whenever I wriggle I get a wave of that
familiar smell. The one I never used to get when I was young and innocent, but
now get all the time.
I
scrub and scrub and plaster my body in deodorant, but it doesn’t seem to
matter. The ripe scent of my own body is still there, like a reminder of what
makes Momma hate me now.
Not that
I need any kind of reminder, what with the ropes around my wrists and ankles
and the fact that I’ve been here forever. Or the way she looks at me when she
comes in to see if I’m contrite and ready to plead for forgiveness. Of course I
always tell her I am, but whether I do or not don’t matter.
How
can you really get absolution for being possessed by the devil? I could say ten
thousand Hail Marys and recite the Bible backward, and it wouldn’t make no
difference. The demon she sees in me is invisible, and never seems to do
nothing, so it’s not like I can just scrub him out or act like he’s not there.
I can’t stop spinning the room around like in that movie with the girl who has
no eyebrows.
The
room has never spun around.
You
ask me—if I am possessed, I got some raw kind of deal. Seems unfair to have to
lie here and be so severely punished, when I don’t even get special powers. As
far as I know I haven’t so much as spoken in tongues or bent over in some kind
of weird way, and for darn sure my eyes have never turned black.
So why
do I have to suffer?
She
says it’s because I sinned, but I swear to God I haven’t said or done a single
damned thing. Apart from right then, thinking damned. But I know the devil doesn’t jump into you for saying that.
Most people don’t even think of it as a curse anymore. The girls I used to go
to school with said all kinds of things, like the one with the F and the one with S and even worse—that one I’m not even going to give a letter to.
But
none of them ever had the devil eat her soul alive.
And
none of them had to wait all tied up in her bedroom, while some awful Priest
comes to exorcise the evil spirits out of them.
I can
hear him now, climbing up the stairs. He sounds like judgment day coming to
greet me, footsteps as heavy as the hooves of the devil I’m supposed to be
possessed by. Each one slower than the last, until I have to hold my breath or
else pass out from the tension. Why isn’t he racing up here? How come he’s
dragging his feet like this?
Because he wants to torment me before this has even begun, I think, and then all this water starts leaking out of my eyes.
I pull at the ropes and wish for hands as small as mice just so I could get
free. Though if I’m going to be wishing I’ll try for wings, because Lord I want
to fly away from here.
If I
weren’t tied I’d jump right out the window, wings or not. I’d suffer two broken
legs and a snapped neck, if it meant I didn’t have to face whatever awful thing
he’s going to do to me. Beat me, most likely, because Momma would never get
anyone who wasn’t going to beat me. He’s going to stripe me from here to
tomorrow—which I could take.
It’s
the other stuff that worries me more.
The
boiling holy water and the drowning and the branding with crosses. She says
he’ll do that, all of that, and I believe her so completely I make myself
bleed. My wrists are bleeding and my ankles are bleeding and I’m crying when
the doorknob starts to turn. I scream for someone to deliver me from this hell,
and just as I do the door swings wide.
He
comes in, and after that I don’t know what to think.
I go
silent straight away, but not because I’m choked with fear. I would be if he
was the image in my head—seven feet tall and old as sin, with eyes like winter
at the ends of the earth. Then I’d be scared and screaming still. But he’s not
that way at all.
He
looks like some ordinary man.
He
ain’t even wearing the robes and the collar and that. He has on this old beaten
leather jacket—one that is far too hot for the weather here, if his flushed
face is anything to go by—and even more astonishing a pair of jeans. I swear to
God he’s wearing jeans like he just did some fancy thing that jeans-wearing
people do.
And he
is young.
He’s
so young I don’t even realize what’s going on at first. I’m too busy gawking at
his black, black hair and his lack of an angry beard and his kind of smooth
everything. He steps forward and I marvel at how vigorous he is—not heavy and
lumbering at all. And when he reaches for the rope around my right wrist, all I
can do is look and look at his nice hands.
They’re
big, but they’re not the least bit wrinkled or riddled with veins. He could be
just a few years older than me—maybe twenty-five? He could be younger, even
though that seems crazy. Momma would never bring someone like this to deal with
me. She would laugh at someone like this. She took us away from the church
because the new Priest was all young and into love and forgiving, so this makes
no sense.
And
then I realize what he’s doing, and it makes even less sense than that.
He’s
untying me. He’s doing it fast too—like he knows Momma might come in any second
and stop him. Only I can see Momma in the door with her face all pinched and
her hands wringing and wringing and she doesn’t take a single step toward him,
so maybe his quickness is something else.
It
seems like he’s horrified about something.
I
think the horrified something might be me. He mutters a word as he sets me
loose, and I’m pretty sure the word is barbaric.
But him believing that and not wanting to thrash the devil out of me is so not
what I’ve been thinking all this time that it kind of won’t sink in. I keep
trying to look around him to Momma, waiting for her to step in.
Or for
him to change his mind. Maybe this is all just a trick or a trap, and suddenly
he’ll get out a switch to line my skin. Could be he has something worse on
him—like a thick leather belt or some kind of whupping device—and I can feel my
body bracing for it. Hurt like a son of a b-i-t-c-h when Momma went at me with
that rolling pin one time, so Lord only knows what will happen with this man
wielding something bigger.
He
comes closer and I wince away from it.
Only
I’m wincing away from nothing at all. He doesn’t lash me or strike my face. He
gets his hand underneath my bare bruised legs and the other around my back and
then he says, “Put your arms around my neck.”
Takes
me a while to understand what he means, though. I sit there thinking—this must be some other new kind of punishment, and the minute I do as he asks,
pain will make me pass out. He might have shockers behind his ears or something
like it, and even after I find out he doesn’t I’m wondering.
I
wonder right up until he lifts me into his arms.
After
which my thoughts go kind of still and stunned. No one has ever lifted me up
before. Could be my dad did once, but I can barely remember him. And Momma sure
never—she would have hated touching me this much. She would have complained
about me making her hands all dirty, yet somehow the Priest don’t seem to care.
He
holds me all firm against his good clean clothes—that leather smells like old
books and the shirt underneath just the same. And when Momma moans and asks
what he’s doing in a weak sort of voice, he answers like it’s only sensible.
“I’m
taking your daughter to the hospital,” he says, even though it must be miles to
Sacred Heart and I will have to go all the way in his car in my worn thin
housedress and my stink of a too-hot room and my red hair so lank it looks
black.
People
will laugh at him, I reckon.
Yet he
doesn’t seem to care at all.
He doesn’t
even care when Momma goes to bar his way. He tells her, “Step aside, Mrs.
Emerson,” and for a second I go hot
and cold thinking of someone disobeying her and provoking her wrath. Then I
remember: he isn’t just someone. He’s a man of God and he has all the things
she believes in on his side, and no amount of hand-wringing can change that.
She
has to do as he says, and she does. She lets him go on through and down the
stairs with me in his arms, though it’s only once we’re outside that I really
feel what’s happened. The breezy autumn air hits my fevered skin and I breathe
out for the first time in years.
The
breathing out sounds kind of like a sob. It comes out loud at any rate—so loud
I know he must hear it for what it is. But if he does, he gives no sign. He
just keeps on walking to his car, while I look back over at the clapboard place
I lived in all these years. Somehow I understand that I’m not ever coming back
to it.
This
is it now, this is my freedom, and it looks like a Priest in his old sedan,
with my momma running out in her black skirts calling to me. “Dorothy,” she
screams, “Dorothy,” and in my head I’m already turning into someone else. They
will ask at the hospital and I will say.
My
name is Dot.






INTRUSION

 AMAZON * B&N



 Praise quotes from her last book, INTRUSION (Book #1)

Hot. Intense. Emotional. Sexy. Charlotte Stein writes provocative erotic romance so deliciously you never want her books to end!
   — New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Monica Murphy

“Stein’s surreal storytelling is elevated to a whole new level of madness with Intrusion…Stein has a delightfully peculiar voice and makes colorful use of stream of consciousness with Beth’s first person point of view. Readers won’t want to wait to see what she does next.”
   — Romantic Times BOOKclub, 4.5 stars Top Pick for INTRUSION

“Charlotte Stein put me inside the heroine’s mind and it was an amazing place to be. I never wanted to leave.”
   — New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Tessa Bailey

“By seizing on the power of erotic language and allowing it to range from rhapsodic to raunchy, Stein has written a radiant ode to the mind-the biggest erogenous zone of all.”
   — Publishers Weekly (starred review) for INTRUSION

“A short, steamy, moody read that will have the reader taut with all kinds of delicious tension ….”
   — Jay Crownover, New York Times bestselling author

“Fans…will be mesmerized by Noah’s amazing intellect, social awkwardness, vicious inner strength, and palpable vulnerability. Readers will find themselves inwardly cheering for Beth—both a survivor and a worthy heroine. Although the relationship between these characters is a slow-build, their dynamic both in and out of bed is very raw and intense, creating strong sexual and emotional tension.”
      — Library Journal (starred review)





BLOG TOUR HOSTED BY: 

Take by Nashoda Rose Cover Reveal 2/4/15

take_fbcr 
Cover Reveal
TAKE_nashodarose

Book Title: Take (scars of the wraiths)
Author: Nashoda Rose 
Genre: Paranormal Romance 
Release Date: Feb. 24, 2015 
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Goodreads Button with Shadow
Book Blurb

MAX

Feelings are a luxury I can’t afford. Hidden behind a shield of quiet placidity, I keep my secret safe from those who’d use it against me. Until him—the tatted up, self-centered Scar assassin hired to protect me.

He takes pleasure in tormenting me, chipping away at my defenses as if I’m a toy to be played with. I hate that he continuously reminds me that I’m nothing more than a job. I hate that my body responds to his touch. I hate him.

JASPER

I’m not a good guy and I don’t pretend to be. Condemn me if you want, I don’t give a fuck. You’re nothing to me. No one is … except her—Max. She’s my target. And I was hired to do a hell of a lot more than protect her … I was hired to kill her.

It should’ve been simple, but it was complicated as hell.

*erotic paranormal romance. Standalone full-length novel. Come meet the Scars.

Scars: Immortal warriors with capabilities derived from the senses: Trackers, Sounders, Healers, Tasters, Visionaries, and the rare Reflectors. They each have what is known as an Ink, a tattoo that can be called life.

excerpt

“How long since you fucked a guy?”

“What?” Her arms moved as if she was about to cross them over her breasts and then decided against it and put them back at her sides. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because when I fuck you, it will be hard. I need to know if you can take it.” I’d expected her to grab her shirt and put it back on. That was what I had intended. To scare her. Instead, she stared at me as she undid her bra and let it fall to the floor.

Fuck.

I was a guy. A guy that didn’t give a shit if a woman hated me in the morning, but they never did. I may be a selfish bastard but I never left a woman unsatisfied. And it was more a self-serving reason as I could always get seconds when I wanted. But this was different. Everything about it was different. Max was different.

And that should’ve scared me enough to walk away.

But Max … staring at her milky white naked skin … her handful of breasts with nipples erect and waiting for my mouth to be sucking on them. I should’ve walked back into the bathroom, shut the door and jerked myself off in the shower.

I didn’t.

Meet the Author
brim

Nashoda Rose is a New York Times bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a tidal wave. When she isn’t writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers on Facebook and chatting about her addiction—books.


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Surrender Series by Lori King Re-Release Day Blitz &Rafflecopter giveaway 2/4/15

10940436_596135090519214_1667071717136705346_n

We are so excited to celebrate Lori King’s Re-Release of Weekend Surrender, Flawless Surrender, and Primal Surrender with her sexy new covers!  Today is also her birthday so please join the party on Facebook for chances to win several prizes from Lori and her author besties. https://www.facebook.com/events/343636329165125/?ref=2&ref_dashboard_filter=upcoming

Weekend Surrender Cover Image

Synopsis

After another painful betrayal and break up, Rachael Morgan sets out to prove to herself that she can handle a good time with a man and walk away sexually satisfied and with her heart intact. She could have never imagined that she would be agreeing to the proposition of a lifetime. Every woman in Stone River, Texas would jump at this chance, but she’s afraid she’ll leave pieces of her heart behind.

Raised on their family ranch the four Brooks brothers have always shared everything. Even women.  When they find themselves face to face with the one person who could complete them all, they set out on a journey to claim her for their own.

Fate can place them all in the right place at the right time, but will Rachel be able to overcome her relationship scars, or is she destined to live her life alone believing that no man ever stays?

(M/F/M/M/M Ménage, consensual BDSM, bondage, spanking, HEA, There is no touching or titillation between siblings.)

For a limited time only Weekend Surrender is only $.99 cents!!

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1uUJKxA  Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/ovwlt85

Amazon CA: http://tinyurl.com/na7r9zo  Amazon AU: http://tinyurl.com/ksxs85t

B&N: http://tinyurl.com/l8b4253  ARE: http://tinyurl.com/lb28md9

Smashwords:  http://tinyurl.com/nbyjejv

Flawless Surrender Cover Image

Synopsis

The strength of a man is in the way he embraces his flaws, instead of denying them.

Zoey Carson has worked nonstop to graduate with her Master’s degree, after managing to survive parents who neglected her in favor of their own addictions. Her future of helping children overcome their childhood is within her grasp until she is knocked down by a surprise visit from her mother. She finds herself at a crossroads when her longtime crush,
Tanner Keegan, comes to her rescue, along with his brothers, Dalton and Clint. Letting them go might help her avoid getting hurt, but the outcome—she would continue to live a lonely, empty life.

The Keegan brothers finally come together after spreading themselves across the globe for more than a decade. Each fighting his own personal battle with the past and future, but there is no question that Zoey turns them all on. Who will risk the pain of baring their soul for the promise of a happy future, and who will succumb to their weaknesses?

Return to Stone River, Texas, where the Keegan brothers work together to win the heart of the woman made for them. Enjoy the journey as Zoey decides if she can be their…Flawless Surrender.

Warning: For Mature Adult Audiences. Contains language and actions some may deem offensive. Sexually explicit content. M/F/M/M, graphic language, consensual BDSM, spanking, HEA. There is ‘No’ touching or titillation between siblings.

Buy Links:

Amazon:  http://amzn.to/1vqFA6n   Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/nd7dllk

Amazon CA: http://tinyurl.com/pq96s7h  Amazon AU: http://tinyurl.com/lqe426d

ARE: http://tinyurl.com/n4cs52c  Smashwords: http://tinyurl.com/k9zx3r9

Primal Surrender Cover Image

 Synopsis

 Brothers Mack and Ryker Thompson know the pain of failure intimately having recently fallen from the heights of success. One a former football star, and the other a master at his artistic craft, they couldn’t be more different from each other. Mack hides behind anonymity in order to cover up his pain, while Ryker figures it doesn’t matter if the glass is half-full or half-empty as long as there’s a bartender refilling it all will be well. Broken and haunted by the mistakes of their past, neither expected to find a ray of sunshine in the clouds of their pity party.

Claudia Schmidt, is the only daughter of a real estate tycoon that has a plan for turning the small town of Stone River into a suburb of Austin, Texas. When she is sent in to replace the project manager, and convince the town of the necessity of the project, she finds herself falling in love with the town, and the Thompson brothers.

Although ménage relationships aren’t foreign to Mack and Ryker, neither one intends on living one, so how can they decide who gets the girl? And what if the girl wants all or nothing? Welcome back to Stone River…

Warning: For Mature Adult Audiences. Contains language and actions some may deem offensive. Sexually explicit content. M/F/M, graphic language, consensual BDSM, anal, HEA. There is ‘No’ touching or titillation between siblings.

Buy Links:

Amazon CA: http://tinyurl.com/mtq9qy5  Amazon AU: http://tinyurl.com/k54p2ux

ARE: http://tinyurl.com/lwq3t43  Smashwords: http://tinyurl.com/p8l6rjc

loriAuthor Bio

Best-selling author of The Surrender Trilogy, Sidney’s Triple Shot, and The Gray Pack, Lori King is also a full-time wife and mother of three boys. She rarely has time to just enjoy feminine pursuits, but at heart she is a hopeless romantic, so she spends her days dreaming up Alpha men, and her nights telling their stories.

Find out more about her current projects at http://lorikingbooks.com, or look her up on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LoriKingBooks or Twitter: https://twitter.com/LoriKingBooks.

Chapter One of Weekend Surrender

Chapter One

Rachel slammed the closet door behind her as she emerged dressed in her sexiest, country cutie clothes.  Her stonewashed blue denim miniskirt barely covered the bottom curves of her ass cheeks.  It was paired with a man’s red and blue plaid dress shirt, and the shirttails were tied just under her perky B-cup breasts.  She left the buttons open so her tits were clearly visible rising out of the top of her blood-red satin pushup bra.

Her tanned midsection was completely bare except for the crystal belly ring that dangled in her belly button.  From the back she knew the view would be of the half dollar size daisy tattoo she had gotten when she turned eighteen, just above the top of her black belt.  The hand-tooled leather was clasped between her hips bones, with a large belt buckle in the shape of a star.  On her feet were a pair of black cowboy boots with silver embellishments, and her long, slim legs were bare.

She was dressed to kill with every intention of causing a few heart attacks tonight.  Her chestnut brown hair hung down to the middle of her back in large wavy curls, and she ran her fingers through it carelessly as she walked.

Her makeup was applied with precision so her oversized chocolate brown eyes were nearly as prominent as her blood-red lips.  She had always hated the fullness of her lips, but men seemed to love them.  Mitch always called them dick sucking lips.

She hated Mitch now.

Mitch deserved Connie Sanders.  The bleach blonde tramp had been trying to sink her claws into Mitchell Edwards for more than six months, and she had finally gotten her way.  Well screw them both.  If plastic boobs, and a spray-on tan was what Mitch got off on, then he deserved Connie.

Rachel was going to go out and find a man to fuck her heartbreak away.  She wanted raw, dirty, raunchy sex.  Not the soft, gentle missionary sex Mitch seemed to favor.  She wanted to be shoved against a wall, or held down by her wrists as a large muscular man devoured her completely.  That’s why she created this plan.

It was a Friday night, and that meant a packed house at Robin’s, the local bar that Rachel had waited tables at through college.  She had met Mitch there, and he would no doubt be there tonight playing darts with his cronies, while Connie giggled and preened over a watered down margarita.  So in order to prove to the world that Rachel Lia Morgan was completely and utterly over her ex-boyfriend, she was going on the prowl on his turf.

There were usually dozens of hot men at Robin’s on the weekends.  All of the local ranchers and ranch hands from the outskirts of Stone River usually hit the bar on Friday night looking for some action.  Never before had Rachel considered indulging in a one-night stand, but tonight was her night.

She spritzed a little bit of her favorite perfume on her throat, and then grabbed her small purse.  On her way out the door she noticed her cell phone was blinking with a missed message.  She climbed into her silver Ford F150 as she hit the play message button.

“Rach, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I want to apologize.  I didn’t mean for you to find out about Connie like that…Rach?  Please call me so we can talk this out.  You can’t just throw two years out the window.  I made a mistake, damn it—”

The voice clicked off as she hit the delete button, and dropped her phone back into her purse.  Mitch could beg and plead all he wanted, but she had already made her peace with their breakup.  She wasn’t interested in his excuses anymore.  She turned the volume up on her truck radio, so Miranda Lambert’s tune “Mama’s Broken Heart” blared out the windows into the night, and headed toward her freedom.

The bar’s parking lot was packed with work trucks.  With exception of only a handful of cars that probably belonged to the female patrons of the bar.  Rachel backed her truck into a small parking stall at the back edge of the lot, right next to a black Dodge Ram Quad Cab that looked like it had rolled off the lot and onto the ranch just a few hours ago.  Realizing she had parked rather close to the truck, she carefully opened her door, and slipped out into the small space.

A large masculine hand covered hers, where it rested on the top edge of her truck door, and she gasped.

“Sunshine, if you nick my new truck with your door, I’m going to have to spank that cute little ass raw.”  The voice in her ear sent a shiver over her skin, and she flushed at his words.

She turned her head to see who was behind her that would have any right to speak to her like that, and she nearly groaned out loud when her brown eyes met those of Parker Brooks.  Parker Brooks was one of the four Brooks brothers who owned Brooks Pastures-a local cattle ranch.  The four brothers shared two things in common, their love of ranching, and their smoking hot good looks.  Dark hair, dark eyes, long lean muscular cowboy bodies, all tucked up under a cowboy hat.  It made Rachel’s blood sing just thinking about the four of them.

Holding her breath she dropped her gaze from his dark eyes down to his sexy mouth, and she felt her own tongue dart out to wet her lips unconsciously.  His raised eyebrow told her that he noticed, and she shook her head slightly to clear her lust fogged brain.

“I’m sorry, Parker.  I did park a little close there, but no worries, I was careful,” she said with a smile she hoped would distract him from the increase in her breathing, and the rise and fall of her breasts.

It clearly didn’t work, because his eyes shifted from her lips directly down the front of her shirt, and then they dragged lower.  His gaze drifted from her golden colored abs, down to her booted feet, and then he reached out and tugged her hand free of the truck door.  Surprised, she followed his lead when he turned her around so her back was to him again.  A long, low whistle had goose bumps forming on her arms, but the finger stroking over her tattoo in the small of her back was what had her creaming her panties.

“Holy shit, sunshine.  Who let you out of the house dressed like that?” he asked in a gravelly rough voice that nearly knocked Rachel’s knees out from underneath her.

The meaning of his question sunk in, and her irritation overcame her libido.  “Last I looked in the mirror I was a grown woman, cowboy.  I don’t need anyone’s permission or approval of my wardrobe.”

Parker let her go when she tugged her hand out of his.  She slammed her truck door and started to move out from between the two vehicles.  “You might be grown up, but wearing a skirt like that is asking for trouble.”

She paused and looked back over her shoulder.  “Maybe that’s exactly what I wanted,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

His slow, sexy smile made her mouth go dry, and she swallowed hard.  “If you want trouble, little girl, all you need to do is ask.”

Trying to cover up her nerves at his deliberately seductive invitation, she snorted out a laugh, “If I decide I want your kind of trouble, I won’t need to ask.”  Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she headed for the door of the bar.

Before she could pull it open, a large hand reached around her for the door handle, and another equally large hand settled on her hip.  Whipping her head violently, ready to give Parker Brooks a piece of her mind, she froze in place when it was his brother, Hudson’s face only inches from hers.

“Hey, honey,” he said with a quick smile, and a wink, “Let me get the door for you.”

“Thanks, Hudson,” she responded, sighing with relief that that was all he said.  She wanted a wild fling, but the Brooks brothers were out of her league for multiple reasons.

They were all at least ten years older than her twenty-four years, and they were all wickedly sexy men.  The rumors around town were the four brothers shared their women, and right at this moment, looking into Hudson’s heated cocoa-colored gaze, she would have believed it.  She had an inkling he had heard her interaction with Parker, but she wasn’t going to tempt fate by asking.

Instead she tipped her chin up and turned back to the door, only to realize that it wasn’t Hudson’s hand on her.  Sawyer Brooks stood on her other side with his hand resting lightly on the curve of her hip, and the rest of his body leaning nonchalantly against the door jam.

“Rachel,” he said softly, and her pulse took off racing.  Okay, the idea of having a sexy one-night stand had merit, but now that she was surrounded by large muscular men, she wasn’t so sure she could go through with the reality.  “No need to rush off.  How are you tonight?”

Blinking in surprise, she answered automatically in a snotty tone, “I’m fan-fuckin-tastic, Sawyer, thank you for asking.”

His eyes darkened with irritation, and his lip curled up in a grimace.  “Don’t use language like that, you’re a lady, and ladies shouldn’t curse.”

Rachel couldn’t help it.  She burst into a roar of laughter.  Not giggles, or chuckles, but large loud belly laughs.  “Are you kidding me?  Sawyer Brooks, I have seen you compete in the local rodeo, and heard the nastiness that spews from those luscious lips.  Do you really think you can tell me not to curse?”

Sawyer focused in on the one phrase from her whole little speech that he liked, “Luscious lips, huh?”  Those sexy lips curved up into an equally sinful smile that had her pussy tightening, and her thighs clenching.

She forced herself to roll her eyes, even as a blush covered her cheeks.  “Whatever.  I’m going inside to get a drink, dance a little, and maybe play some pool.  Excuse me, gentlemen.”  She reached again for the door handle, only to have a new set of hands settle on her shoulders and tug her backwards until she stumbled.  Instead of falling on her ass though, her plump butt cheeks settled against the rough denim of a man’s Levi’s, and a heavy arm banded under her ribs holding her upright.

“Apologize, Rachel, you were rude to Sawyer, and he was just trying to teach you a few manners,” Parker’s voice rumbled against her ear, and she bit her tongue hard to swallow her moan of lust.

“No.  Let me go, Parker, this isn’t funny,” she ground out, and she began to struggle to get out of Parker’s strong grip.

“Stop it.  You’ll end up hurting yourself.  Now, Sawyer and Hudson deserve a sincere apology, and then I want an explanation as to what you’re doing at Robin’s dressed like a two bit hooker on fight night?”  Ice coated his words, and she stilled in his arms.  A wave of hurt and embarrassment went through her.  Did she really look so bad?  She had put on the clothes that made her feel the sexiest.

“I apologize if I’ve offended anyone, but I have plans inside the bar that include a bottle of tequila, and a few spins around the dance floor.  You are currently delaying my plans.  I have no intention of prostituting myself, because I’ve never in my life felt the need to ask a man for sex.  I’m dressed in clothing I picked out, and like.  I don’t personally give a damn if you approve or not, Mr. Brooks.”  She focused all of her anger on her words, and when he finally released her she sighed heavily, “Thank you.  Have a lovely evening, gentlemen.”

Hudson tugged the door open, and Sawyer stepped back from the doorway allowing her to saunter past him.  Once she was safely in the bar, she let out a heavy, shaky breath and made her way across the room directly into the bathroom to settle her nerves.  It might take more than a drink or two to wipe the Brooks brothers from her fantasies tonight.

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