A Little White Lie (11 page)

Warning: Contains a brilliant heroine who knows how to take matters into her own hands, a sexy hero who knows how to win his woman, an awesome full-body massage, a tender romance and sizzling bedroom (and kitchen) shenanigans.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Veiled Seduction:

“No man alive would say something like that.”

Maira knew that Sasha had no idea why she so loved to watch chick flicks with him. She didn’t particularly care for the actual movie. It was his running commentary of incredulous scoffing and joking throughout.

“Pansy.”

Most people probably didn’t like talking during their movies, but since she had trouble sitting still for two hours at a time to begin with, it made the whole thing much more interactive and fun.

“Why do women always have to remove their glasses when they get a makeover?”

“I don’t know,” she said mildly.

“It’s stupid.” He lifted a bite of the cheesecake dessert to her mouth, adding just the amount of ice cream that she liked. “Glasses aren’t an automatic turnoff to men.”

“Hmmm.” Why had she wanted to go out again? This sitting close together and sharing-the-dessert bit was pure freakin’ genius. She accepted the bite he offered and savored the taste. Since the deep-fried cheesecake—God bless America—was enormous, they’d shared it before. But never on the same plate. With the same spoon. She didn’t just taste the luscious dessert, she tasted him on the silverware as well, and it was wonderful.

Intimate.
Yes, the whole night had been intimate. She cast him a sideways glance as he removed the spoon from her mouth. Maybe tonight…maybe tonight she could take advantage of this intimate setting, show him she was ready for more.

Sasha must have felt her gaze, for he glanced at her and smiled. He dropped the spoon onto the now-empty plate and set it on the table. With a swift click, he paused the movie.

Now. Do something, say something now.
She sat frozen though, unable to think of anything sufficiently sexy. His arm came around her in a smooth move and he shifted closer so they were sitting hip to hip. “You have some cream on the corner of your mouth.”

She started to raise her hand to wipe it off, but he stayed her. “No, let me.”

He leaned in close, and Maira closed her eyes, her heart stuttering. Oooh, he was going to do the little licking-off-the-food thing in prelude to a kiss. She’d always found that wildly erotic and romantic. She waited for the touch of the tip of his tongue.

Instead she got the full flat of it. Right on her cheek, as if he were a puppy bathing her face. She reared back in surprise. “What the…?”

His eyes dancing with mischief, he sat back. “It’s off.”

She shot him a dirty look and wiped off her cheek. “That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Do what?”

“The food-on-the-corner-of-the-mouth thing. You’re supposed to turn it into a kiss.”

He looked both innocent and perplexed. “I know not of what you speak.” He leaned forward, dipped his finger into the remaining cream on their plate and swiped it over the corner of his own mouth before sitting back. “Show me.”

He was daring her, and little-known fact, but Maira loved dares. Did he think just because she was a virgin, she knew nothing of sex? School had been a snap for her because she was an insane speed reader. Dirty books were her friend, and she was a fast learner.

She’d just pretend. Pretend she wasn’t boring, staid Maira. It was doable.

Before she could lose her courage, and before he could lower his hand to wipe it on the napkin in his lap, she caught it and brought it to her mouth.

He inhaled sharply as she licked the cream off, boldly keeping eye contact with him. His eyes only briefly dipped down, and she knew the top button of her shirt had probably come conveniently undone.

Once his finger was suitably clean, she drew it in to her mouth oh so slowly, her tongue darting around and rubbing against the underside of it. His shifted when she sucked it once, then again, strong pulls that brought the tip of his forefinger to the back of her throat.

When she released him, it only took a glance down to see how aroused he was. The hard length of his penis distended the material of his slacks. Her nipples ached, her breathing had accelerated, and between her thighs, her panties rubbed up against the swollen tissues of her labia.

She took a deep breath for courage, and then quickly turned and adjusted herself so she straddled his lap. His eyes widened, his hands coming up instinctually to grasp her hips.

Though he looked surprised, he didn’t stop her. His dark eyes merely skated over her, from her disheveled shirt to his hands on her hips. Then he looked back up at her, waiting.

She leaned in and made him jump by nuzzling his neck. She inhaled. Once she’d heard another woman say that she knew she had to marry her husband, because he was the only man who smelled good to her no matter what. Maira had discounted it then. What man smelled wonderful all the time?

But after hanging around with Sasha, she understood what that meant. Even when he was sweaty from working out, she didn’t mind it, still found his scent appealing. And right now, with that mixture of cinnamon and bay rum, he smelled good enough to eat.

This close to him, all of her thoughts and plans deserted her and she was reduced to her instincts. Following them, she flicked her tongue out to capture the cream at the corner of his mouth. His head turned and his lips opened as she delicately lapped at them.

Their lips melded together. This…this was different from that first time a few weeks ago. Then, it had been all angry, storming passion. Now his lips were softer, gentler. Instead of pushing her where he wanted her to go, he only took as much as she was willing to give.

Everything. I’ll give him everything.

A guy. A girl. A silver pole…

To the Max

© 2010 Annmarie McKenna

As owner of Jensen Securities, Max Jensen lives by one simple rule: Never take your eyes off the target. Once he spies lithe little Jordan Landon wrapped around a pole, though, his eyes aren’t the problem. It’s keeping his mind on his job.

Her job as a pole-dancing instructor might cause a few raised eyebrows, but it’s what she does on a speeding motorcycle that kicks Max’s protective instincts into overdrive. And puts the hurt on his determination to keep his hands to himself.

Years ago, Jordan left her wealthy, disapproving family behind to pursue her dream of opening her own dance studio. Approaching a hottie in a bar was easy in her college days, but now? If she wants him, she’ll have to put her big-girl panties on and go for it.

Once alone, their inhibitions disappear faster than their clothes. But when someone breaks into Jordan’s home, Max finds himself in an uncomfortable position—as the target of Jordan’s suspicions about his real motives.

Warning: What better sexual partner than one who pole dances? Just think of the possibilities… Add in a stubbed toe, priceless Tiffany and meddling mothers and you’re all Maxed out!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
To the Max:

What on earth was she doing trying to pick up a stranger at a bar?

Sex, Jordan. Remember the sex you wanted to have to rehydrate your parched woman’s parts? The ones currently shriveling up from lack of action?

With ultimate resolve, she lifted her face and stared at herself in the mirror.

“Jordan, you will go out there and seduce that walking sex God.”

A snicker behind her made her jump.

“You go, girl. Hey, while you’re handing out the confidence, mind sharing some with me? There’s this really hot guy out there I’d do just about anything to go to bed with.”

Jordan smiled and told herself not to punch the woman. Surely she wasn’t referring to the same guy. There were lots of other men in the bar.

But only one who’d been built specifically for causing a woman to orgasm with a simple touch. Jordan was sure that would be the outcome if she ever got the nerves to get close enough to him.

Enough. She was here for sex, she was going to get some. Self-doubt was not going to dissuade her.

“Sure,” she said to the woman washing her hands. “As long as we’re not after the same one. I’m not into threesomes.”
And I really don’t want to go to jail for breaking your neck. Tall, dark and drool-worthy is mine, mine and all mine.

The woman’s laugh grated on Jordan’s nerves, tempting her to strangle the bleached blonde’s neck just to get her to tell her who she was lusting after.

“Oh, my God, he’s like, so cute. Red hair…”

Jordan didn’t hear another word over the breath she let out. Time to buck up and become a woman all over again. If luck was on her side tonight, the stud at the bar was going home with her.

Or she was going home with him.

She’d lived the last few years in anonymity, surely she could pick up one man and not be found out. He hadn’t seemed to recognize her at least.

Jesus, she was doing it again. The urge to slap herself grew. Where was the set of
cojones
she’d used to move out of her parents’ and live her own life away from all the crap money entailed? She straightened, flipped her hair over her shoulder and checked to make sure she didn’t have anything green between her teeth. That’d be a mood killer for sure.

She was here to get her sex on.

“Good luck.” Jordan shoved through the door and headed straight for the bar. If he wasn’t still sitting there, she would cry.

“Go get him, Jordan,” she heard from the friends she’d come with. It gave her courage. Hell yes she’d get him. She’d use his body as her pole and show him all kinds of new moves.

His closely shaved dark brown head hung over his beer and his shoulders were slumped. Damn. She’d thought he’d been interested. She hadn’t mistaken the way his nostrils had flared when she’d started toward him earlier or the way his eyes had widened. There’d been a flash of lust, damn it. On both their parts.

Jordan was suddenly close enough to reach out and touch him. Mmm…he smelled so good. Like man and cologne and yum all rolled into one, and she smelled it even over all the combined alcohol and smoke odors of the bar.

It was do-or-die time. Jordan tapped him on the back. “Hello.”

His head whipped back so fast she was amazed he didn’t give himself whiplash or fly off the stool. Catching himself before that happened, he darted a glance between her and her friends before settling on her face.

His eyes were green. Pale green. Beautiful. Her panties went wet just looking into his gaze.

At least she knew she hadn’t dried up quite yet.

“Hello.” Oh man, the sound of his voice made her shiver. Deep and sensual. It curled around her to the point she swore she could feel his mouth moving on her throat.

“I’m Jordan.” Did she stick out a hand to shake? Where the hell was her inner college chick?

“Max.”

Max. Perfect. She wanted Max. Right here, right now. If only clicking her heels together and pronouncing, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,” would get her anywhere.

He seemed to contemplate something. It made her nervous. Picking up men used to be so easy. Of course those were the days of trying to attract the media attention just to piss her mother off. Right now, Max was going to give her a complex.

“You wanna dance, Jordan?” He said her name like he was trying it out on his tongue.

She wanted to shout, “Try my clit out with your tongue too, please.”

She refrained. No use scaring the man off before she’d gotten out of tonight what she wanted.

He hopped off the barstool—or stood at any rate—and towered over her five-foot-six frame. Maximillian. Maximillian? Is that how she saw him? Appropriate because right this second she felt like she’d just won a million bucks. He had to be a good few inches beyond six feet, muscular too, as evidenced by the fit of his shirt beneath his leather jacket. She wanted to rip the shirt off and lick his abs, see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

Please God let him be this big across the board. She needed big. Needed to be filled to capacity plus some. Her clit actually ached at the thought of him between her legs.

She’d turned into a hooker. A pole-dancing, stranger-picking-up, begging-for-big hooker.

One fateful detour. A raging storm. She didn’t see this love coming…

Merry Christmas, Paige

© 2009 Mackenzie McKade

Holding a knife against a child’s throat isn’t exactly how Dr. Paige Weston had planned to spend her Christmas holiday. But a jolt from an air pocket and here she is, performing an emergency tracheotomy as her flight to Fiji diverts to Kauai. The one place she swore never to return.

Beside the fact her patient comes first, what’s the chance she’ll run into her ex-fiancé—the man who jilted her when another woman turned up pregnant? Then she realizes the island hospital is woefully understaffed, forcing her to lend a hand. And upping the odds that her heart will hit more turbulence before she makes her escape.