Chasing Love and Guilty Pleasures - EROTIC - 99 Cents!




In Chasing Love, Maddy has searched for love and acceptance her entire life. She finds more than she bargains for after picking up a man in a bar while visiting her aunt in Iowa. Warning: EROTIC HORROR. Explicit sex scenes.
Guilty Pleasures- Zoe and Michael's marriage is in deep trouble. Michael works late every night and Zoe struggles through endless of hours of loneliness and need. Desperate for attention, she joins a chat room called Tie Me Up and meets the charming, seductive Master D. WARNING: Explicit sex and bondage.

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I hope everyone has a blessed Holiday and may all your reads in 2012 be fantastic and memorable.


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EXCERPT FROM CHASING LOVE:


A tall, lean, ride-em-cowboy slid into the empty stool to my left. With my eyes cast down, I glanced at his shiny boots and tight denim jeans—narrow at the hem and all the way up his muscular thighs. My heart rate sped and a lonely ache thrummed against my rib cage. Yep, too long without a man.
It struck me at that moment; most women looking for a tumble in the sheets would detect a hot, moist sensation between their legs, a normal precursory to fucking.  Yet all I could think of was his strong arms holding me, the sound of a his heart beating in sync with mine, and his warm breath against my ear. Perhaps the doc is right. It isn’t about the physical joining of bodies for me, but the fusion of hearts, of minds. I’d journeyed down the same road all my life, walked a never-ending path of a lost soul looking for acceptance and devotion.


“You counting the hairs on my forearm?” the clear, resonant voice said. 

I drew my gaze from his arm and looked into his eyes. Blue. Bluer than a cloudless sky at morning. “Sorry, I drifted there for a minute.”


“You are one, aren’t you . . . a drifter? I mean, not born and raised in Clarence?”

“No, not born in Iowa. I’m from New York, here visiting my aunt Pearl.”


“Pearl,your aunt is Pearl Waldron?”

I nodded.


“Buried her husband not long ago.”



“My uncle Max, yes.”


“My condolences,” he said, extending his hand. “Name is Cleve, Cleve Porter.”


I felt my lips twitch into a smile. “Cleve from Clarence. I like it. It has a . . . a homey, wholesome ring to it.”


Straight, white teeth smiled back. “That’s us, wholesome top to bottom.”


I liked him, and he looked into my eyes as if the feeling could be mutual. Here’s where the old nagging self-doubt walked in. Maybe like all the rest in my past, he wanted sex—sweaty, one-night bliss. Nothing more. Oh, I couldn’t think about that now. I wanted that instant gratification too. But one could hope something between us would ignite, spark a desire to meet again. And again.


I pushed the conflicting thoughts from my mind, had to hope Doc Tenwyck was wrong, that sometimes one-night-stands led to long-term affairs of the heart. Time to find out. Never one to stand on pretense, having learned long ago to ask for what I wanted upfront, I drew a silent, deep breath. “So Cleve, you live near by?”


The bartender dropped a newspaper onto the shiny bar in front of Cleve, smothering his answer to my question. “That makes four, or is it five now?” the man said. “Iowa City has one sick son of a bitch on their hands.”


I looked at the headlines and an icy chill ran down my spine. Another Woman Found Dead Along County Road.


Cleve looked up from the newspaper. ““What does a man have to do to get a beer around here?”


“Sorry, Cleve, had a little run on thirst for a minute. The usual?”


Cleve nodded.


The bartender returned with his beer and I spit out the questions hanging on my tongue. “How do they know the killer lives in Iowa City? Have they got a suspect?”


“They don’t know,” Cleve interjected. “And that’s why they don’t have any suspects. Most of the cops in this neck of the woods struggled through Criminology 101.”



“Ah, that’s not fair, man,” the bartender said with a frown. “They’re dealing with a professional, a serial killer who’s been plying his trade for years.”


My mouth went dry and I swallowed, hard. “What is his trade?”


“Knives,” the bartender said. “He likes to carve up his victims before he puts their lights out.”


My stomach flipped. I’d had enough of death and dying; didn’t want to spend my night out on the town talking about knives and serial killers. In fact, the entire conversation had sapped my prior thoughts of passion and love.


I dug in my purse for my billfold and keys, dropped a five-dollar bill on the bar and turned to Cleve. “I best get going. Aunt Pearl will start worrying soon.”
After sliding from the stool, I started for the entrance and called out over my shoulder. “Nice to meet you.”


Before I made it to the truck, footsteps fell behind me. “Wait up a second.”


I drew a deep breath and turned to face Cleve.


“Sorry ‘bout all that talk of killers and knives. Sort of spooked ya, huh?” He took a few steps toward me, his adorable smile calming my rattled nerves. A bronze hand came out and warm fingers stroked my cheek. “Before all that stupid talk, you asked me where I lived, and I didn’t have a chance to answer you.”


“I did . . . but I think―”


“Don’t think. Just go with your gut feeling. You came into Clarence for a reason, and I don’t think it was for a glass of beer. Besides, you look more like a wine lady to me. Am I right?”


God, he was a smooth talker, and the most handsome men I’d seen in eons. Under an umbrella of bright stars, the blue eyes sparkled like shiny gems. “You’re right about the wine. I do prefer Chablis over beer.”


“I live two miles from here. Come home with me.”


I crooked my neck to the right and looked at him in a new light. His face was all manly angles and planes—high cheekbones, straight nose and strong jaw. The bartender knew him, which meant he wasn’t a loner passing through town. I wanted him, longed to have those strong, tan arms holding me, those lush lips nibbling on my ear and whispering sweet words of love. Even if the words weren’t true, I could pretend for one night. Just one night. I needed a man,yearned to belong to another human being if only for a short time.


He must have sensed my hesitation. “Let’s cut to the chase. You want me. I see it in your eyes.” He nodded toward the bar. “I saw it in your eyes back there too.
And God knows, I want you.” He cupped my face in his hands. “Let it go, all other thoughts and worries. Just for tonight.”


Just for tonight. The words acted like a balm to my troubled soul. “All right, just for tonight,” I said with a tentative smile.


“Follow me, and stay close. The deer are running this time of night.”

“Right,” I said. “Close.”
* * *

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1 comment:

  1. Sounds a lot of fun, Keta! Happy Christmas! @KetaDiablo

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for taking the time to leave a sassy comment. It's truly appreciated. I aim to get back to you as soon as possible -- Sassy :)