The Dysfunctional Test (36 page)

About the Author

Kelly’s been known to say that she gets her ideas from everyone and everything around her, and that there’s always a book playing out in her head. No one who knows her bats an eyelash when she talks to herself. She began her writing career in the Indie market, becoming the recipient of an
Editor’s Choice Award
, a Finalist in the
2008 Best Book Awards
, and a Finalist in the
2009 Indie Excellence Awards
before moving into traditional publishing. Her books not only have honors from the top review sites, but from
NY Times
bestsellers too. She is a respected reviewer and a
Romance Writers of America
member. Kelly’s interests include: sappy movies, MLB, NFL, driving others insane, and sleeping when she can. She is a closet caffeine junkie and chocoholic, but don’t tell anyone. She resides in Wisconsin with her husband, three sons, and her black lab. Most of her family lives in the Carolinas, so she spends a lot of time there as well.

You can visit her at her website:
www.AuthorKellyMoran.com
, Facebook:
www.Facebook.com/AuthorKellyMoran
, or on Twitter:
@AuthorKMoran
.

Falling for the bad boy is even more dangerous the second time around.

Good Girl Gone Plaid

© 2013 Shelli Stevens

The McLaughlins, Book 1

In high school Sarah fell for her best friend’s older brother—one of the sexy, Scottish McLaughlin boys. But a painful betrayal showed her she’d been a fool to give her heart to a bad boy. At least it made it easier to leave him and move halfway around the world when her Navy dad got stationed in Japan.

Eleven years later, the death of her grandmother has forced Sarah back to Whidbey Island for a month. It’s the length of time she must stay in her inherited house before she’s allowed to sell it, take the money and run. But when she sees Ian, bad as ever and still looking like sin on a stick, she can’t keep her mouth from watering.

One look at Sarah stirs up the regret lingering in Ian’s heart—and never-forgotten desire lingering in his body. He should walk away, especially since divorced single mothers aren’t his style. But when she starts showing up at his family’s pub, he can’t resist a little casual seduction for old time’s sake.

One thing quickly becomes clear, though. The heat between them is causing an avalanche of secrets and betrayal and nothing will ever be the same.

Warning: A bad-boy hero who’s good with his hands, a heroine who’s trying to be good. Contains liberal consumption of Scotch whisky, a Highland Games competition, men in kilts wielding large poles, and a potential Sarah McLaughlin of the non-musical kind.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Good Girl Gone Plaid:

She blinked and wet her lips. “W-what?”

“You heard exactly what I said.” His gaze honed in on her mouth and his eyes darkened. “A kiss. It’s not that complicated.”

Oh, it was definitely that complicated.

“Not a chance.”

“Why?”

“Are you high? Because we’ve got a history—a pretty complex one where I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you. And beyond that, I’m not for sale, dammit.”

Ian laughed. The sound so deep and sexy, she hated the way it heated her blood.

“I’m not asking you to suck me off. Though I sure as hell wouldn’t protest if you tried. It’s just a kiss.”

The imagery. Oh, God, the imagery those words created. She shoved it aside, and sputtered, “You’re disgusting. You kiss your mother with those lips?”

“Not since she moved back to Scotland with Da. And the only kissing I’d like to focus on is between you and I.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

When she stepped back, he followed her. A deliberate dance of seduction. Of intimidation.

“It will happen, Sarah, because I want it to and I’m certain you do too.”

“Arrogant much?” Her mouth went dry. “I was done with you the day I moved to Japan.”

Okay, that was a lie. She’d never forgotten him—it would be impossible to. And each suggestive little sentence he uttered was turning her body to liquid heat. Which pretty much made her think she needed to have her head examined. Any normal woman would’ve reacted by slapping that smug smile off his face.

“And that’s just the thing, doll. I wasn’t done with you.” His head dipped. “Not even close.”

And before she could fire back a response, not that she had one after his explosive admission, he muttered, “I’m collecting my payment.”

His mouth claimed hers.

Instinct demanded she fight him—push him away, but her mind reasoned that she could fight him another way. By not responding. By not giving him any indication that she still harbored any emotion except disdain to him.

But his kiss wasn’t hard—wasn’t aggressive. It was slow and sensual. Gentle even.

His mouth brushed over hers in a soft caress, again and again, before his tongue teased the seam of her pressed lips.

His shocking change of tactic tore down any walls she’d maneuvered between them. Emotions she’d thought long dormant stirred deep within her. Physical needs she hadn’t realized she could experience anymore came to the surface.

The combination of the two was a bit terrifying.

She wasn’t a twenty-eight-year-old woman anymore, but a seventeen-year-old with a stomach full of butterflies again.

The urge to part her lips, to kiss him back struck her with a ferocity that made her lightheaded.

She slid her hands up his chest, clinging to his shirt to keep herself upright. Though there was no real danger of falling, not with the way he’d backed her up against the door.

Ian lifted his head a tiny bit. “You always were so damn sweet. Open your mouth for me, Sarah. I’ve got to taste you.”

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Again, she shook her head, couldn’t manage any reply except a small whimper. He used it. Once more his mouth took hers and his tongue slid past her parted lips. The moment his tongue touched hers the fight left her.

Just one more time, she bargained with herself. One more time to remember how good they’d once been.

Clinging to him now, she met the teasing flicks of his tongue with hesitant strokes of her own. Tasting him.

Heat and need spread through her blood like wildfire. Catching and crackling, making every part of her come to life in a way that hadn’t been matched in eleven years.

Pleasure exploded through her when he slid a large palm past her scarf and into the V neckline of her dress. The sensation of his calloused hand cupping her breast had her nipple hardening instantly.

His growl of appreciation rumbled between them as he squeezed her flesh. He seemed to be eager to rediscover her shape and texture. His hand squeezed and lifted her breast, strong fingers swept in to pinch her nipple.

Sparks lit up in her head and she cried out, her knees most definitely buckling now.

So wrong. She knew it deep in her heart. This was so very wrong. It was nothing but lust at its deadliest. And because it had been so long since she’d experienced passion, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. Even with the reminder banging down her conscience at just how much was at stake. At how horribly he’d hurt her before.

An ache grew between her legs and she could feel her flesh slicken. The need made her want to do all kinds of crazy things. Hike up her dress and just jump him. Wrap her legs around his waist—ignore the consequences—and just let her hormones rule her mind.

Right now she wasn’t a stressed-out mom wondering how she was going to pay her rent and the lawyer. She was a woman who had needs that had been far too long ignored.

That’s the only reason you’re feeling like this.
The voice of reason managed to infiltrate her cloud of lust, but it didn’t make her pull away.

When Ian’s mouth lifted from hers, she nearly pulled it back down, but then she realized where it was headed and moaned low in her throat.

He tugged the stretchy fabric of her dress to the side and pulled the breast he’d been exploring free from her bra. His head swooped down, just before she felt the wet heat of his mouth close over her nipple.

A cry ripped from her throat and she arched into him, driving her fingers blindly into his hair.

So good.

Ian grabbed her waist with one hand, pulling her closer to him. Then she felt the nudge of his knee between her legs as he moved his other hand beneath her dress and up her thigh.

He brushed his fingers over the heated flesh between her legs—was just starting to slip beneath her panties—when a loud pounding had him stilling.

“Hey, boss. Someone’s here to see you,” a muffled voice called through the door.

Ian lifted his head and locked gazes with her. The heat in his eyes had her mouth drying up.

She fully expected him to let her go and answer the door, but instead he slipped a finger beneath her panties and didn’t even hesitate before he thrust it inside her body.

“Ian.” She gave a strangled whisper of protest, and then bit her lip hard enough to nearly draw blood so she wouldn’t cry out in pleasure.

“Tell them to go the fuck away. I’m busy.”

She’d be the perfect catch if he could take his eye off the ball.

Pitch Perfect

© 2013 Sierra Dean

Boys of Summer, Book 1

Emmy Kasper knows exactly how lucky she is. In a sport with few opportunities for women at the pro level, she’s just landed her dream job as head athletic trainer for the San Francisco Felons baseball team. Screwing up is not an option.

She’s lost in thought as she pedals to the spring training facility, her mind abuzz with excitement as she rounds a corner—and plows head-on into two runners. The end of her career dances before her eyes when she realizes she’s almost run over the star pitcher.

As Tucker Lloyd watches the flustered Emmy escape with his bandana tied around her skinned knee, the view is a pleasant change from worrying about his flagging fastball. At thirty-six, the tail end of his career is glimmering on the horizon. If he can’t pull something extraordinary out of his ball cap, the new crop of rookies could make this season his last.

The last thing either of them needs is a distraction.

The last thing either of them expects is love.

Warning: Contains a down-on-his-luck pitcher, a good-girl athletic therapist, chemistry that’s out of the park and sexy times that’ll make them round all the bases.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Pitch Perfect:

Emmy Kasper had been thinking about her luck when she managed to drive her bike headfirst into a batch of the bad kind.

She’d been so busy musing about her new job she’d sort of neglected to think about the important things in the present, like watching the road for joggers. When the two men stepped out in front of her, she was struck by a moment of absolute stupidity.

Oh, there are people in the road. What should I do?

A second later, her brain caught up.
Oh shit, there are people in the road and I’m about to fucking hit them.

She shrieked, because screaming like a girl seemed to be the only thing she could think of to warn them. It worked, because two heads pivoted towards her as she finally remembered how the handbrakes on her bike functioned and squeezed down on them for all they were worth.

The world went upside down suddenly, and she was vaulted from her bike seat ass over handlebars and landed in a heap directly in between the two men she’d narrowly avoided maiming. Adding insult to injury, her bike decided to keep rolling forward and only stopped when it slammed into her. Pain formed an ache at the center of her back, but it was the giant smear of blood on her knee that really caught her attention. The line of blood on the pavement didn’t look so good either.

In spite of all evidence she was the only one who’d been hurt, she awkwardly blurted out, “Are you guys okay?”

“Aside from almost being killed?” This from the shorter, slightly chubbier of the two.

“We’re fine, are you okay?”

When Emmy finally focused on the taller of the two, her heart caught in her throat, and it wasn’t because he was gorgeous. Which he was. Staggeringly so. No, she kind of wanted to curl up and die because of
who
he was.

“Oh, Christ. You’re Tucker Lloyd.”

“Guilty.” He crouched beside her and reached his hand out to her. She was so awestruck by his long, beautiful fingers she didn’t realize what he was doing until he’d already rolled up her ripped pant leg. Emmy let out a shuddering breath and gasped when his fingers brushed against her knee.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

The jolt of pain brought Emmy back to her senses. She appreciated Tucker’s immediate attention to her injury, but she should have been able to take care of it herself. And not in the
I’m a tough, modern girl, I can handle myself
kind of way. In the
I’m an athletic trainer, and dealing with this is my job
kind of way.