Monday, May 6, 2019

Mercy Upon Us #NewRelease DARK #Romance #Thriller

Turning the spotlight on Amber Lea Easton's new release, Mercy Upon Us, a dark romance thriller. Take a look below!

Back cover copy...

Doctor Riana Wolfe has a perfect life--a private practice in Dillon, Colorado, two cute kids, and a handsome husband--until one night unravels it all. Her husband's suicide rolls back the curtain on a web of lies so elaborate that she begins to question her sanity. Trapped in a spiral of deceit and betrayal, she and her children become targets and she has no idea why or who is behind it. 

Brody Dalton has no interest in drama. A retired ski champion, he is rehabilitating his shattered leg and nursing a wounded ego when he hears the gunshot come from next door. He rushes to the aid of his former childhood friend, Riana, without thought of the consequences. Rumors in the small community abound about why Riana's husband committed suicide and about what other secrets she may be hiding. He is battling his own demons, yet cannot stay away from his former friend's obvious distress. As the rest of the community shies away from the widow, he puts himself in danger to help. 

Drugs, secrets, and death chase Riana and Brody as they delve deep into the mysterious shadow life of her deceased husband. Through it all, they realize their bond from decades ago has never truly subsided, but the timing for love couldn't be worse. As Riana struggles to save her children from harm and to salvage what is left of her shattered life, can she open her heart enough to trust Brody? Will they be able to overcome--and outrun--the darkness that haunts them both? 

**may contain emotional triggers regarding suicide and drug abuse**

Bam, bam, bam, rattle, rattle, rattle. She opened her eyes, confused about where she was and what the sounds were. She blinked at the surroundings, untangled herself from the chair, stubbed her toe on the toolbox and peeked down the hallway toward the front entrance.  
Brody stood at the door, hands cupped around his face that pressed against the glass.
For someone she hadn’t seen in years, he certainly appeared everywhere lately. She glanced over her shoulder at the toolbox before closing the door to Marshall’s office.
He knocked again. Groggy from her nap, she wondered what time it was and why he stood outside the office door.
“Let me guess,” she said when she unlocked the door for him, “you are in desperate need of counseling and can’t wait until I am officially open for business again?”
“Exactly. I know you’re the best in town.” He grinned and for a minute she forgot the chaos that was now her life. Brody Dalton definitely had a way about him, an I-Have-It-All-Under-Control-You-Can-Count-On-Me way.  
“What are you really doing here?” she asked, opening the door all the way to allow him access before locking it again.  
“I’m on my way home, stopped at the market, spotted your car and thought you might need my help.” He glanced around at the quiet room. “But now that I’m here it looks more like I have interrupted a nap than a packing.”
“Packing?” Back to him, she combed her hands through her hair and walked back to her own space. “Why do you think I am packing?”
“Marshall’s office…sorry…it’s probably too soon for that. I thought you were here going through his things.”  
"No one sent you here?"
"Why would anyone send me here?"
Instead of sitting at her desk, she sank into her therapist chair, which was burgundy suede with rolling arms. She loved this chair because it was easy to curl into, feet tucked beneath her.  
Brody sat on the sofa, his gaze scanning the room.
“I needed peace. It’s a little noisy at my house these days.” She smoothed her hands over the arms of her chair. “How was work?”
“Good.” He smiled without looking at her. “Do you know how many times I have driven by your office since I’ve been back and thought about stopping in to say hello?”
“How many?”  
“Dozens and dozens.” His gaze returned to her face. “I suppose you’ve heard I have a date with your cousin tonight. That’s okay, right? You don’t feel like I’m invading your personal life or anything, do you?”
“Are you trying to invade my personal life?” 
"Maybe so." His grin faded. Their gaze locked.
Rattled by his presence, she jumped from the chair and walked to the mini-fridge behind her desk. “Water? Juice?”
“Juice would be great. And, um, I should probably tell you that some people think we've been having an affair."
She froze in mid-motion, uncertain as to if she had heard him correctly. “I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"The sheriff stopped by my work today and—"
"The sheriff did what?" She spun around and gaped at him. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. 
"I shouldn't be telling you this."
"You definitely should be telling me this."
"He had a lot of questions about how I ended up at your house before the police arrived."
"You did?" She frowned. She had no memory of him being there, only the sensation of someone comforting her at one point. Everything else blurred after Marshall had put the gun to his head. 
Brody's face softened with understanding. "It doesn't matter, Ri. People are going to say whatever they're going to say, but we know the truth and that's all that matters."
"Maybe not." She returned to her task of getting him a drink. 
“I want to help. You didn’t deserve any of this and neither did your kids. I want to be here even if it makes people talk. Is that lame?” 
She handed him the juice without meeting his gaze. “Yeah, it’s pretty lame, Brody.”  
“Seriously?” He laughed before taking a drink of the juice. “You’re calling me lame?”
“You called yourself lame and asked if I agreed.” She settled into her chair. “Piper?  Seriously?”
They chuckled together in the quiet of the office, drank their cranberry juice and sat for a few minutes without need for another word. 
“Piper seems nice. I’m sure we’ll have a good time.” He studied the empty juice bottle in his hand.  
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” she muttered. “I thought you were going to cut wood for me and here you are slacking off in my office drinking my juice and dating my cousin.  Something is wrong here, Brody. Piper is probably pacing the driveway waiting to see you wield a chainsaw.”
“Do you think so?”
"I guarantee it. She's practically drooling over seeing you all hot and sweaty."
"Hot and sweaty? It's like ten degrees outside."
"You're a mountain guy—you'd probably rip your shirt off if it was minus ten."
Again, they laughed as if the years between them had never existed. 
She found herself wishing they hadn’t dropped out of contact. 
“Why did we lose touch?” she asked, after the laughter had lapsed into silence.
“You were a college chick and I was a no-good ski bum. I never thought you would be back here. You used to talk about living in California, somewhere hot with palm trees and sunsets on the beach.” Again his gaze traveled around her office. "I actually never thought I'd be back here, at least not under my current circumstances."
"Yeah, I thought you had house in Lake Tahoe or somewhere like that."
"I still do." He nodded, gaze averted to the carpet. "I needed so much physical therapy that my parents convinced me to stay here for awhile."
She frowned. "Aren't you going back to Tahoe?"
"People in Tahoe keep expecting me to make a comeback and I hate to disappoint." He grinned and spun the now empty bottle of juice against his knee. "So why didn't you end up on a beach somewhere?"
“Marshall thought we should raise the kids in Colorado, close to his parents, back in my hometown—he sort of liked the idea of reconnecting with our roots. End of story.” 
But it wasn’t the end of the story, not even the beginning or middle. She rubbed the tightness in her shoulders and closed her eyes. He had toyed with the idea of leaving, but she had brushed him off, had become complacent in her own life.
Why did I do that? I don't even remember my reasons for staying. The kids? The practice? Why can't I remember? 
“That doesn't sound like you.” He stepped toward the windows. “You always had such ambition, such clear ideas of what you wanted your life to be like. Coming back here—a place you always wanted to flee when we were kids—seems like a strange move."
"Yet here I am."
"And here I am."
"Two fucked up individuals who have no idea what the next move is. Perfect."
She cleared her throat. 
“Well, at least we can spare each other the small talk and bullshit.” She grinned at the easy way they had fallen into their old communication style. “Since we’re being so honest with one another, tell me if you agree with everyone else and think I have lost my mind.”
He turned abruptly at that but didn’t answer right away. He leaned his hip against her desk and studied her upturned face. “I think anyone would go a bit crazy in your situation.”
“That is not reassuring, Brody.” Her gaze drifted through her open door, across the hall and onto Marshall’s door.  
“Any more news about possible suspects?”
Her gaze shot back to him. “Suspects? For what?”
“The break-in.” He motioned to her face. "Any news?”
“No.” Her fingers touched her lip as if she had forgotten.
“I get the impression that there’s something you want to tell me…what is it?”
“Who’s the therapist now, Brody Dalton?” She pushed from the chair and moved around the office as if looking for something else to do. “It’s almost dinner time. I promised the kids I’d bring home a pizza so…I should go.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s okay. I have enough babysitters waiting for me at home.” She hovered next to Marshall’s door. She needed to get the toolbox.  
“I am not your babysitter.”
"What are you then?"

"Some say I'm your secret lov-ah." He winked. "But in reality I am your friend." 
"It's good to have a friend," she whispered, lost in his eyes and in the ease of his presence. He made her feel safe even when her entire world crumbled around her like the Apocalypse. Maybe it was their history as two brats ripping up the mountainside back in the day or maybe it was simply the fact that he wasn't judging—whatever it was, she appreciated it. 
He folded his arms over his chest and stared at her. “What’s in that room?”
“Nothing. Marshall’s office.” She leaned her shoulder against the frame and waited for him to leave. “I’ll see you at the house.”
“I’ll wait.” He leaned his shoulder against the wall and grinned. “I want to see what’s behind door number one.
They stared at each other for a minute before she decided to open it. He had no idea what was in the toolbox. With as much casualness as she could fake, she retrieved her purse and the toolbox.  
“Let me take that. It looks heavy.” He reached for the handle of the metal box, his hand covering hers. When she refused to let go, he looked her in the eye. “It’s okay to let me carry some of the load, spitfire. I know more than you think I do.”
“What’s that mean?” she whispered, unwilling to release the handle.  
“I lived across the river from the two of you for the past year and I don’t sleep much. I heard things. I saw things.”
“Meaning that I know that you didn’t exactly have an equal partner in the marriage.  Meaning that I know you carried more than your fair share and tolerated more than most people ever would have. Meaning I know he lived in the garage apartment for at least as long as I've been back in town.” He managed to pull the toolbox from her fingers. “So let me carry a toolbox to your car for you, chop your wood, and don’t think twice about it, okay?”
She nodded, mind too busy with possible scenarios of what he could possibly know for certain to speak. The arguments that had occurred late at night after one of Marshall’s disappearances…the strange comings and goings of Marshall and his buddy Ron… She stopped abruptly in the doorway.
Ron. It could have been Ron this morning. Same height. Same build. He had acted so strange yesterday, guilty almost.  
“Riana.” Brody’s hand gripped her forearm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook off the thought, determined to call the police detective who had given her his business card this morning.  
She had never liked Ron. There had always been something dark about him, an aura of doom. She activated the alarm and double-checked it before walking from the curb. She swallowed the fear that welled in her throat and looked around the parking lot.
Someone watched her, she knew it.  
Too many cars. Too many people coming and going. Too much to think about.  
“Hey, your tire is flat.” Brody stooped to the front tire. “Actually, all of your tires are flat.  It looks like someone let the air out.”
Dread expanded through the hollowness in her chest until she felt gutted with the icky sensation.  
“A prank,” she said, not believing it for a second.
“Have there been many pranks like this since you’ve worked here?”  
Brody looked up at her from where he squatted on the ground. He didn’t need to say a word for her to know what he was thinking. The man from this morning wanted something from her and was determined to get it.  
Hands on hips, her gaze locked onto the toolbox. They wanted the stash…or money…or maybe something she had yet to discover. She needed to trust someone other than Piper and Jenna, needed a confidante but…not Brody with his shaggy chocolate-colored hair, brown eyes, lanky body, and irresistible grin. He was too...too Brody. And if people were already concocting stories of some mad, passionate affair, she didn't need to add fuel to the fire. 
What would people say if she started getting openly close with Brody? Maybe the police would reconsider the suicide conclusion and think they had staged the whole scene? Maybe they already did suspect that if they were questioning Brody at his work. She swallowed the panic rolling in her chest. 
People loved to talk, to speculate, to create fiction from thin air to entertain themselves. 
Marshall was right. I'm consumed with what other people think of me.
"Fuck it," she muttered. She rubbed a closed fist against the center of her chest and willed herself to calm down. 
“C’mon. I’ll deal with this. We’ll pick up that pizza you promised the kids, I’ll drive you home and come back here. Don’t worry about it.” He put the toolbox into the back of his truck.
“I need that up here with me,” she said about the toolbox. “I don’t trust it back there for anyone to take.”  
Without questioning her, he handed it back before walking to the driver’s side. She stared at her car as they backed from the parking lot. While she had been napping, someone had been tampering with it in broad daylight.  
Or maybe that someone sat next to her pretending to be her good old buddy from the past. He had needed physical therapy, perhaps had been addicted to painkillers. Maybe the real reason Marshall couldn't stand Brody was because they had shared a shady secret. 
Maybe Brody had hit her this morning. 
Maybe Brody knew what was in the toolbox. 
She pressed her fingers against her forehead and wished she could think properly. As it was, all thoughts seemed either forced or out of control. No steadiness. No calm. No absolute answers. 
I'm a little unsteady.
Damn it. She was better than this.  
“Don’t worry about the car. There’s enough air for me to drive it over to the gas station in the parking lot or I’ll tow it with the truck. I’ll have dad drive me back and take care of it in no time.” Brody’s fingers thumped against the steering wheel as he talked to the windshield.  
“Marshall…” she began.
“Marshall what?”
“He wasn’t everything I thought he was.” She rested her feet on top of the toolbox. “I keep finding out how much I didn’t really know him. I could have helped him. I really could have. I would have. He never told me what was going on. He never told me how much trouble he was in.” She met Brody's gaze. "That's what I do...I helppeople. Did you take a lot of painkillers after your accident, Brody?"
“What kind of trouble was Marshall in?” he asked without answering her question.
“Ever since he died I keep uncovering new information, new clues about this man who I spent my life with…and I didn’t know him.” She shook her head back and forth and back and forth. "It's amazing how you never truly know another person, not even if you live with them, no matter how much you love them."
"I suppose that's true."
"Did you need a lot of painkillers after your accident?"
He glanced at her with wariness in his eyes. "Yeah, I did."
None of this felt real. If she hadn’t known her husband, then how could she ever trust that she knew anyone else at all? His death had pulled the string that had unraveled the structure of her life and she had no idea when it would stop or what would be left except a pile of tangled debris.  

NEW RELEASE! Keep reading and download your copy now. Paperback coming soon. 

Thursday, August 30, 2018

They are Sexy, Fearless, and Trapped in Another Dimension of the Bermuda Triangle #MustRead #PNR

Featuring book one of the Uncharted Territory series--they're sexy, fearless, funny and trapped in the Bermuda Triangle! Do you ever watch ghost hunting shows? This series is framed as a famous ghost hunting crew that travels the world investigating all things freaky and mysterious--with an erotic twist, of course! Each stand-alone novel is a new "episode" of the series. 
Check out this blurb & excerpt from Bermuda Triangle Trouble (Book One) by Dakota Skye. 

From the back cover...

The Bermuda Triangle — a source of mysterious disappearances and theories of aliens, portals, and even sea monsters — lures the world's sexiest paranormal team to its deep blue waters. 

Bethany Colton and Josh Ryder are the co-hosts of the Uncharted Territory paranormal investigation television show. They travel the world investigating the unknown, but neither can shake the feelings of doom on their journey into the Bermuda Triangle.

When the crew of their yacht vanishes, Josh and Bethany dive into the depths in search of answers. A mysterious force pulls them into another dimension, however, and the duo needs to find a way back to their team. Stranded on a lost island, Josh and Bethany battle their fears, attempt to find another time portal, and traverse their complicated sexual relationship. 

Will they find their way back and solve the mystery of their missing crew? Will their tumultuous off-screen relationship find any resolution in the face of a life-and-death situation? 

**This is book one of an ongoing erotic paranormal romance series that contains explicit sexual situations**

An excerpt (adult content) 

Overcome with all the emotions swirling through her, she bent over and pressed her hands against her knees. Never one to panic before, she closed her eyes. One deep breath in...another slow one out. Repeat. 

Josh dropped his hand against the small of her back. "Hey, Ms. Always-in-Control, we're together and we're alive. That counts for something. Let it out. We'll figure it out because we always do."

"Yeah, right, whatever you say." She stood and shook her hands at her side, unable to stop the racing emotions. 

"Hey." He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. "Look at me." 

She opened her eyes in time to see him shove a piece of white coconut flesh against her lips. Slowly, she opened her mouth and began to chew without looking away from his steady gaze. Yeah, Josh Ryder definitely had sexy down to a science. Even in a crisis, he managed to ooze sex appeal and charm. 

Sometimes she really hated the man. 

"Let me go." She twisted free of his touch and stepped back while she finished chewing. 

"Why did you hook up with that guy last night?" he whispered and took a step toward her. 

She swallowed and looked past him to wear the coconut lay open. "I need another piece."

He grabbed her elbow and stopped her from leaving. "Why do you like anonymous fucks rather than the real deal?"

"The real deal?" She snorted and looked him in the eye. "What do you know about that and do you honestly think this is a good time to talk about my sex life? We have many other—"

"Stop it, Bethany." He pulled her close, forced a hand through her tangled mass of hair, and held her head steady. "We could have died, but didn't. Would it be so bad for us to have an honest conversation about what's going on between us? For once we don't have cameras going or anyone to watch our every move."

She swayed toward him as if pulled by magnetic energy. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and indulged in the sensation of being held after such a tumultuous experience. Giving in to temptation would be easy. Living with it would be a catastrophe. 

"There's nothing going on between us. We're partners, that's it."

His eyes searched hers. He slid his hand up her side, fingers gently easing her closer. "We're pretty damn good partners."

"We were just propelled through some mysterious underwater time warp, doesn't that concern you?" 

"I'm not going back in the water, if that's what you're thinking. I know those hammer—"

"I'm not suggesting we go back out." She pressed her hands against his chest intending to push him away. Instead, her fingers splayed against his hard flesh and lingered. "You must think I'm insane to—"

"I think you're the most extraordinary person I could ever know and, if I need to be stranded on a deserted island, I'm happy I'm with you."

Don't look at him, avert your eyes, don't get pulled in. She fixated on his mouth. "This is dangerous."

"We've been in worse situations." He grinned and bent his head to kiss her. 

When his lips touched hers, she knew that a logical woman would push him away and tell him to focus. 

She opened her mouth to his and slid her hands from his chest to his shoulders. 

A logical person would be seeking shelter or preparing a fire or looking for more to eat or...

To hell with logic. 

Lips moved over one another's with deliberate slowness, a direct counterbalance to the erratic energy emanating between them. When he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, she melted against him as if she no longer had free will. Her body hummed with the need for connection. 

Closing her eyes, she savored the taste of him—salty with a hint of coconut. Wet. Hot. Hard. 

He lifted her and, without breaking the kiss, pressed her back against a palm tree. He shoved her bikini bottoms down her hips with one hand while the other undid the knot holding her bikini top in place. 

No longer caring about common sense or mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle, she slid her hand beneath his swim trunks and grasped his erection. The only thing that mattered in the Universe happened right here, right now with Josh. Every sense and each molecule in her being aligned with his. 

The rasp of their breathing surpassed the sound of palms whispering in the breeze.

The feel of his hard cock in her hand eclipsed the scratch of the tree's trunk against the bare skin of her back. 

The sensation of his tongue dancing with hers drowned out the echoes of caution. 

The taste of his mouth became as intoxicating as any alcohol she'd ever known. 

The fact that they could have died—probably should have if the laws of the Universe were applied—amplified the desire to merge their bodies into one entity fueled by passion. Hands grasped at one another, greedy for flesh. Mouths clung to each other as if mutual satisfaction would be the only way to quench their hunger. 

She linked her ankles behind his hips; he held her wrists above her head against the tree trunk. Gaze locked together, they both smiled, lips against each other's, as he slid his cock inside her. 

Held up only by his hips thrusting against hers, his hands gripping her wrists, and his mouth firmly against hers, she felt vulnerable yet powerful at the same time. Sex with Josh had always surpassed any random fuck she had had with anyone else. Her heartbeat drummed like the finale in a grand symphony with every thrust, each breath that met in their joined mouths. 

They moaned in unison as an orgasm simultaneously quaked through their bodies. With a muted cry, he released her wrists, grabbed her hips and fell backward onto the sand. 

She buried her face into his shoulder, unsure if she could move or speak. Her body still vibrated with the aftershock of orgasm. Sweat slid between their abdomens. 

"That's what I was talking about," he said after a long silence filled only with their breathing and the sound of the ocean. 

"What were you talking about? I forget." She nipped his shoulder, unwilling to break their bond. 

He caressed her back with his fingertips moving in slow circles. "Us."

She sighed before lifting her head and noticing his smug smile. She clenched her vagina muscles that still held his penis inside her. "Don't ruin this by talking."

"Keep doing that and we'll be in for another round." He squeezed her ass, a dare in his eyes. 

She pressed her hands against his shoulders, raised up so that her nipples barely grazed his chest, smiled down at him, and tightened her pelvic floor. "Pilates pays off, doesn't it, babe?"

"In more ways than one." He lifted his head to look at her bare breasts. "Damn, with a body like yours, you really should be naked all of the time." 

She thought the same of him, but decided not to admit it. Not yet. Admissions of any kind weren't her style, even if her heart did a backflip at the idea that there could ever be an 'us' beyond the professional and the friendship. 

He hardened inside of her while his hands moved over her body as if discovering a lost piece of art. He lifted her breasts while his thumbs teased her nipples. 

She tilted her head back and fucked him again because it felt damn good to be alive, to be here, to be with him. She rode him like a sea goddess conquering a mortal. Hard. Fast. Merciless. 

He arched his back, his head pushing back into the sand, as he moaned her name. His fingers sank into the side of her hips as he rammed upward as if wanting to bury himself in her body. 

Hands pressed against his chest, she dropped her head back and shouted toward the sky when the orgasm ripped her in two. 

 Keep reading and let the adventure begin! 

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Fanning the Flames with this HOT Firefighter #Romance #NewRelease

What's hotter than a guy jumping out of a perfectly good aircraft into a raging wildfire? Not much...but when that same guy who is tough on the outside proves how sweet his is on the inside for the love of his life who he let slip have the makings for a powerful story with gripping characters. That's Seducing the Flame, a new release by Amber Lea Easton. Check out the blurb and an excerpt below, then get your copy NOW! 

From the back cover...

Flames rip through southern Colorado and fire crews from across the US rush to battle the Million Dollar Fire. Devon Ross never thought he would step foot into his hometown of Ouray again, but as captain of the Flame Slayers—an elite fire jumping squad out of California—his call to duty thrusts him onto a collision course with his past.

Darby Shaw can't believe her eyes when she sees Devon at the makeshift camp for the fire crews. He had disappeared—literally—ten years ago and his possible whereabouts had become a source of town lore. Seeing him here, now, under these crisis conditions, creates a whirlwind of conflict within her. The last time she had seen him face-to-face, she had whipped him with her wedding bouquet. 

There is an arsonist in their midst. When a second fire develops southeast of town, the life and death struggle intensifies. 

Devon may be brave when facing down a fire, but is he courageous enough to confront his reasons for cutting ties with his family and friends? Can Darby come to terms with the depth of her past betrayal? Will the seduction of the flame be more powerful than love? With the fire roaring its way through the mountain landscape, time works against them as they struggle to heal what went wrong between them for a second chance at a what-if. 


History brewed like a slow-burning fuse between them, yet they both chose to ignore it. She had no idea when or if they would ever have a deep discussion or all-out argument about what had happened ten years ago—but she honestly didn't know if it was necessary. Being with him now felt more precious and more important than dwelling on pain a decade old. 

They walked in an easy silence through the series of log cabins nestled in their own corners of seclusion behind trees and bushes until coming to one that stood at the very end of the path. Devon stepped onto the front porch and sat in the swing. He tugged on the chains holding it to the ceiling before looking at her with a question in his eyes. 

She remembered this cabin—it seemed to always be off the registrar, in a constant state of supposed renovation. She wondered if the Ross family—including Lester and Matilda—had a reason for keeping it as a sneak-away retreat for family only. She sat on the swing with him and tucked her legs beneath her hips while he moved it to-and-fro with his foot. 

She took a moment to simply look at him. Age had treated him with kindness. He was more handsome now than he had been at twenty-three, which said a helluva lot. He was now one hundred percent man—no trace of the boy remained. Little lines shot out from the corners of his blue eyes. His face appeared sharper, more defined. And his mouth...she studied his lips as they curved into a smile under her scrutiny...she wanted the right to kiss him whenever she wanted. 

And she wanted. 

"Tell me about this shirt."

"Women go wild for me where ever I go—they try to rip the clothes right off of me. It's kind of embarrassing." 

She laughed and linked her fingers through his. "I bet you go through a lot of shirts."

"I do. It's kind of problem. I've really needed to adjust the budget to account for it."

She wanted to say more than she had yesterday but had no idea where to start or how to begin. If she said too much, he could disappear. If she said too little, then she might always regret it when he left. With a sigh, she realized that both scenarios ended with him walking away. 

He tilted her face up to his with his index finger and simply stared into her eyes. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I thought I was doing everyone a favor by leaving."

She curled her hand around his wrist. "I know you did, that's why it's so sad."

He dipped his head and kissed her slowly. His hands moved down to her waist and he pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her neck while his fingers undid the buttons of her shirt until he pressed it open to reveal her bra. His head dipped into her cleavage. He hands reached around her back to undo the clasp to free her breasts from the purple lace. When his tongue flicked over her nipple, she gasped and clenched his head closer to her. 

Every move, every touch, every kiss, every caress was done with slow deliberation. She tilted her head back and allowed him to make love to her breasts with his hands and lips and teeth and tongue. 

She ripped the tattered shirt from his shoulders and tossed it aside. She laughed against his mouth as he muttered, "There goes another one." 

They moved from the porch swing to the porch floor. She touched his tattoos on his chest and arms—some old, some new. 

He brushed the hair from her face before claiming her lips with a tenderness that broke her heart. His hand kneaded her breast, his thumb teased her nipple, his knee parted her thighs. She arched her hips against him, craving connection. 

"Devon! Are you out here?" Lester. "Kiley said you were out this way. Devon! Oh, sorry, oh, I, uh," Lester darted behind a tree. 

"I'm kind of in the middle of something, Dad." Devon laughed against her neck and whispered, "Don't move. My dick's about to bust out of my pants. Give me a minute to think of something else." 

"Someone named Tucker is here looking for you. He said there's been a development back at the camp but you left your phone in your tent so he drove over," Lester explained his interruption. 

Devon moaned against her hair, gave her breast a final squeeze, and pushed himself up so he could see her face. Eyes full of regret and desire, he sighed. "Duty calls." 

She kissed his neck and whispered against his skin, "What a damn shame." 

He pulled her to her feet, bent close to her ear, and whispered, "It didn't work with the teacher because she wasn't you." 

"I'm sorry, Darby," Lester called out from where he remained behind the tree. "I didn't know you two were...when exactly?, that's fine. I don't need to know...but I am curious, but, no, I don't need to know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." 

Stunned at Devon's admission, she said nothing as she adjusted her bra and shrugged back into her shirt. Once again, she watched Devon walk away and wondered if this would always be the way it was between them—her in disarray watching him leave.

Keep reading! Buy your copy now! 

Monday, July 30, 2018

When an Astrology Reading Goes Awry #paranormal

Wow, did I get whammied! I went to my astrology group where we were supposed to be discussing eclipses and their significance in our own charts. I mentioned that I had a catastrophe occur in my house on July 11 so the leader of the group--Malcolm--pulled up my chart to look. The solar eclipse occurred on July 12, by the way. He analyzes my chart and puts in those dates--he says that it was all lined up to have a big blow to my home and money (which happened) and that I had a legal one-on-one situation then too (I got a speeding ticket the next day). That's all in sync and interesting and not the whammy I'm talking about--what happened next left me feeling very upset.

He passed around the computer to others in the group who all moaned and "oo'd and ah'd" about how bad it was and how I needed to be careful. No other explanation. Just a lot of sympathetic looks and words of caution to be "careful" and "cautious with people." One woman told me to "get myself together and figure out my job". I was blown away because none of this was helpful to me. I only mentioned the roof incident because I was curious how that lined up with the eclipse--now suddenly I'm getting words of warning and told how miserable my chart is.

If it's so bad, then what's the use in trying? If the planets are aligned to keep me down and miserable, then what is the F'n point?

In the past few months, I've had two new releases--Decadent Deception and Spark--yet they're telling me to figure out my job? I was so confused.

Here's the thing--I am no stranger to psychics or empath classes. I normally enjoy my astrology group because I'm so curious and eager to learn. I know that instilling fear in someone is NOT the way to go--especially all the dire warnings of "be careful" with no explanation. Be careful of what exactly? Answering my door? Driving? A rabid cat? An ex showing up? WHAT? Am I supposed to lock myself in my house and never go out again? Is all the work I've done over the past two years when I lost everything and rebuilt it in a new city for nothing? Is my life just going to get worse? I mean, what the hell?

Now, I know a lot of people will say "don't take it seriously" or "blow it off"--but he nailed the trauma to my house and the speeding ticket (which they knew nothing of) when he looked at my chart. And I have been studying the paranormal for years. I'm good friends with psychics and witches and empaths--none of them would issue such dire forecasts to anyone, by the way.

No, this experience was traumatic. To have my chart passed around in the group with a half dozen astrologers ooing and ahing and muttering how bad it was--without being specific--is NOT a good feeling. I started shaking. My head started hurting. My heart raced. I started sweating.

I mean, all I wanted to know was how eclipses could influence my decisions on my chart, which was the group topic for the day. I had no expectation of leaving there a nervous wreck worried about dying on the way home with all their pitying looks and hand grabs and words of "be careful".

This isn't how it's supposed to work. I know this, yet am very frustrated by it. The woman who told me I was a mess and needed to figure out my job and my life--her words gnawed at me to the point where I had to start journaling. I admit to being a mess in the past, but right now I am the calmest I have been in years. And, like I said, I just released two new books! Yet, her words also fed into my self-doubt because I'm someone who has been through hell--absolute, utter, traumatic fucking hell--these past two years. Maybe I'm not doing enough? Maybe no matter what I do I'm fucked? If that's the case, then why try?

Yes, I will shake off the nerves in a day or two--but I know that those words "be careful" are going to stick with me for awhile. Be careful of WHAT? And I will have that gnawing doubt that the planets are lined up against me--how does a person escape that?

Frazzled and confused,
Dakota Skye

Thursday, July 19, 2018

Can Their Secret Affair Survive the HEAT? #newadult #romance #newrelease

Shining the spotlight on HEAT by Cassidy Springfield. Their love affair is a secret--and she likes it that way--but when a wildfire threatens her hometown, everything changes. This is a new adult romance...peek inside below!

Back cover blurb...

Kiley Ross and Leo Marshall have a secret. He's her indulgence, her vice. She's his compass, his impossible dream.

Kiley is home for the summer between graduating the University of Colorado and attending graduate school out-of-state in the fall. Everything is changing—friends are scattering across the world, her long lost brother has appeared out of nowhere, a wildfire is threatening the family home, and her secret affair with the local outsider—Leo—is exposed.

As the wildfire ravages the forest around the small town of Ouray, she realizes what really matters and what truly doesn't. Her resistance toward change forces her to come to terms with her own failings—or risk losing the friendships and relationships that mean so much to her. Can she break free of the expectations that have held her back in time to rescue her love affair with Leo? Can he forgive her for wanting to keep him a secret? Confronted with seeing everything she has ever known burn to the ground, can Kiley rise up and step into her own power?

Adult content excerpt...

I step toward him, more scared than I have ever been about anything. I'm scared of being rejected. As long as we were only a fling, we were free to go at any time with no explanation. As long as we were a secret, my friends wouldn't question me and I wouldn't need to defend us. As long as we were sneaking around, I wouldn't be rejected by my family or forced to argue. 

I continue walking toward him until I am a few inches away. The hair on my arms is standing on end. My heartbeat is throbbing in my neck. 

"I think I am in love with you," I whisper, the words choking from my throat. I have never made myself this vulnerable in my life. 

Someone somewhere sometime told me to never be the first to say I love you in a relationship. I believed it and now the idea that he might laugh at my admission has my feet frozen to the ground. 

"You're the only one who knows me—the real me, I mean," I say when he remains silent too long. 

He stares at me, his gaze skimming over my eyes, my face, my hair, and back again. 

"I don't know why I said all those mean things. I don't believe them."

"You know what people are going to say, don't you? I'm a high school drop out and you're on your way to get a PhD. I—"

"I don't care." Emboldened by him speaking, I reach for his hand. "Three years, Leo. Why have you been going along with this arrangement for that long if you don't feel the same way about me as I feel about you?"

"How do I know what you're saying right now is true?" He pulls away from my touch and moves to a chaise lounge set up on a boulder surrounded by rose bushes. He sits down, props his elbows on his knees, and looks off into the distance. 

For being such a smart girl, I realize only now how terrified I am of being abandoned. My brother Brandon had died when I was twelve, he was only seventeen. He had died of an accidental overdose of heroin when visiting Devon in Boulder. The details are sketchy, but I know that his death caused a chain reaction where my parents watched my every move and controlled every aspect of my life until I went to college. 

I remember the last time I saw Devon, who was twenty-three at the time of Brandon's death. He had been running down the hallway at the hospital, away from me, ignoring me when I called to him. He never said goodbye. In one night, I lost two brothers and no one had ever told me why or explained anything to me.

So, in reality if I look at the situation straight on, I know that was the instant I stopped telling anyone how I truly felt about anything. I never wanted to rock the boat, never wanted to be rejected, never wanted to be left again. 

I join him on the chaise, sitting cross-legged behind him. I pull the sleeves of my dress over my hands and exhale. How do I convince him that what I'm saying is true? 

"Do you care that you dropped out of high school, Leo? You got your GED, you worked on your music, you have a great band..." I inch closer to his back. He hasn't moved or spoken since we sat down. "No one cares about high school bullshit or small town attitudes in the real world. I don't. Or is it that you are bothered by me wanting to be a neuropsychologist? Are you intimidated by me?" 

"I'm not intimidated by you," he whispers.

"No?" I smile because he sounded like a little boy when he said that. "I know I'm falling in love with you because you are the only person on this earth whose opinion of me actually matters." He sighs, his shoulders heaving with the effort. I scoot a little closer. "I know I am in love with you because the thought of never seeing you again, or never kissing you again, or never touching you again scares me more than anything." I drop my hand against his shoulder. 

He looks at me then and I'm shocked to see tears in his eyes. He shakes his head. "I want to believe you."

"So believe me." I wrap my body around his from behind—my legs around his hips, my feet on his knees, my arms around his chest, and my chin against his neck. "I will go into the great room right now and scream 'I love Leo Marshall' if that will make you take me seriously." 

He holds my hands in both of his and laughs. "Please don't. I'm not sure how having a girlfriend will affect my image as a sexy lead singer. It might be bad for business." 

I kiss the side of his neck and tighten my legs around him. 

"I'm sorry I made a scene in front of your mom earlier." He caresses my legs from knee to thigh and leans backward against me. We look each other in the eye. "Does this mean you don't want us to end when you move to Los Angeles?" 

"I'll keep you around until I find someone sexier, less dramatic..." 

His gaze moves over me until locking on my neck. Abruptly, he sits up and shifts positions so that we're facing each other. He grazes his fingers over my neck and frowns. "What happened to you? Are these bruises?"

My hand rushes to my neck. I think of Joshua. I nod. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it," I say. 

"I'm worried about it, what happened?" 

"Joshua got a little out of hand."

"Out of hand how?"

"He didn't like being blown off, he attacked me, wanted to..." Tears shimmer in my eyes and I can't stop them. I've held too much in for too long. Emotion breaks out of me. 

"He attacked you?" His hands are on either side of my neck and he's flicking his gaze between the bruises and back to my eyes. "Tell me everything."

"We were fighting about you, he said if I could give it up to you, then I could give it up to him." I hold his wrists when he tries to pull away. I keep him close to me. "Calvin Ritchie actually kicked his ass for you so calm down." I tell him the whole story. He presses his forehead against mine. His thumbs smooth away the tears that slide down my cheeks. Telling him feels right. I tell him everything—it's like a dam has busted open and I can't shut up. 

I tell him about how I feel like a fraud, how I'm scared about moving away, about how I worry that I might fail, how disgusted I was being that close to Joshua, how I've felt like I couldn't express myself after Brandon died and Devon disappeared, how much I love him and how I hope he can forgive me for being such a bitch. 

At the end of my rush of words, he kisses first one eye and then the other to stop my tears. His fingers trace my cheekbones as if I am the most delicate flower he has ever touched and he's afraid to break me. When his lips caress mine, I sigh. 

He presses me back onto the chaise. My fingers tangle in his hair. He tugs off his shirt. He is lean and sculpted and gorgeous and mine. He straddles my body and slides his hands up the side of my thighs that are trapped between his knees. I move my hands over his chest and enjoy him watching me touch him. 

He rolls my dress up over my body one inch at a time. The slowness of his actions intensifies the power of seduction. I suck in my breath as the coolness of the mountain air slides across my bare skin. He pulls the dress over my head and tosses it onto one of the rose bushes. His fingers slide over my shoulders and dip between my breasts before he reaches behind me to loosen my lace bra. He drops it to the side. 

I watch him looking at me. I twist my hips. I ache for him. The need is painful. 

His touch is a barely-there caress as his fingertips skim across my breasts and down my abdomen. He tugs down my panties and works them down the length of my legs until he reaches my cowboy boots. Laughing, he pulls off one boot and then the other before sliding the panties over my feet. 

I lie naked in front of him in the hazy moonlight surrounded by pine trees and roses and lavender with the cool breeze kissing my skin. My nipples harden from a combination of cold and desire. 

He stands at the end of the chaise and removes his jeans and then his underwear until his erection stands free. 

We look at each other in silence. We no longer need words, not right now. 

His hands curve over my ankles. He kisses my knees, my thighs, my center, my abdomen, my breasts, my shoulders, my neck, and my mouth. 

I part my legs for him. 

He nudges them further apart. He slides inside me and gasps against my mouth. 

I arch my back against him, needing to be as close as we can be. My breasts flatten against his chest. He pulls my braid. He nips my lips. 

I embrace him. I slide my tongue against his. We grind our hips against each other—him going deeper and me egging him to go even further. It's as if our bodies are melting together as one and we'll never be separate beings again.

I am his; he is mine. 

"I love you, Kiley," he whispers against my hair. "I love you so much." 

I cry again because I had no idea how desperately I have wanted to hear those words. "I love you, Leo. I really do." 

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