And what could be better on the day for lovers than hot guys. Really hot guys!
Seven years ago this month my first story with Ellora’s Cave was published.
To celebrate I’m giving away a $25 GC from amazon.
Leave me a comment and you might win. Contest lasts until Valentine’s Day.
Cupid’s Shaft was a fun story to write and still sells steadily.
Dumped by her shallow lover for a leggy blonde, Jessie Rawlins was anticipating a lonely, depressing Valentine’s Day in her vacation cabin. Then a snowstorm dropped hot, sexy hunk Riley Malone on her doorstep. Suddenly the night took on a whole new meaning as he led her on the sexual adventure of her life.
Riley Malone thought for sure he was having a heart attack. For one thing, he should be back in Florida where it was warm, not up here in the godforsaken wilds of Maine. But the fight with his business partner in the hotel in Boston had been the final straw in a rapidly disintegrating relationship. He’d offered to sell out his share and Curt had jumped at it. Good riddance. He could start another construction company. Building was going on in all fifty states.
Then, of course, there was Veronica the bitch. Too bad that she bought tickets for a Valentine cruise without telling him. When he told her he couldn’t get back in time to make it, she blistered the telephone line with a string of curses that would have made a longshoreman blush and hung up on him. Okay. Good riddance to her, too. He was tired of her selfish whining and demanding. And it would have been nice if just once in bed she’d asked him what he wanted. Veronica definitely was focused on her own pleasure, on her own terms, at times barely tolerating some of the things he wanted to do.
So he got in the damn SUV he’d rented at the airport and started driving. Just heading north. He had no idea how he even got where he was. And then the damn truck broke down in the middle of the damn snowstorm. Hiking to the only light he could see about killed him and the last thing he expected to see was a naked woman—a mouthwatering naked woman, with a slick, hairless pussy—pleasuring herself in front of a mirror.
He banged on the window again. If she didn’t open the door pretty soon, he’d freeze his damn balls off and then it wouldn’t matter who he went to bed with.
He watched her pull on a robe—too bad, she was an eyeful—and then pick up the fireplace poker. Jesus, was she going to brain him with it? As she walked slowly toward the door he stamped his feet and banged his hands together to stimulate circulation.
Finally the door creaked open and she eyed him through a narrow opening.
“What do you want?”
“For one thing I want to get out of this damn snowstorm before I turn into an ice statue. I promise not to rape or kill you if you just let me go stand in front of the fireplace.”
She frowned at him.
Come on, lady. Don’t take all day to make up your mind.
“A-All right. You can come in.” She opened the door wide enough for him to step inside.
“Thank you.” His throat felt frozen. “You’re an angel of mercy.” He pushed past her and planted himself immediately in front of the fireplace. Pulling off his jacket and gloves, he held his hands out to the warmth. “God, I was beginning to think I’d never get warm again.”
“What are you doing in this storm?” She kept her distance, still holding the poker.
“That’s a long, unpleasant story, which I won’t bore you with.”
“You have to be out of your mind to go out driving in weather like this, Mr…Mr…”
“Riley Morgan.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “And I swear you can put the poker down. I’m too cold to do anything but shiver.”
So now, seven years later, another Valentine’s story, this one self-pubbed.
In Quarterback Sneak I combine my love of football with my love of Valentine’s Day. Come meet Max and Stacy and cheer on his game plan.
Stacy Halligan has spent her adult life focusing on her career, choosing men with far less care than she does her professional path. That’s probably the reason all of her relationships end in disaster. Now she’s senior editor of the magazine where she works and she was so sure this latest hunk would be the one. When he dumps her, just before Valentine’s Day, who does she complain to, as always, but her next door neighbor and friend, backup quarterback Max Sullivan. She sees Max as her best friend. Comfortable. Easy to be with.
Max doesn’t mind hanging out with Stacy but in the three years they’ve lived next door to each other he’s hoped for a lot more. Now he sees his opening. When he offers to put on a blitz leading up to Valentine’s Day to make the guy jealous, he has an ulterior motive. He wants to show her he’s the one she should pick, because he wants Stacy for himself. His campaign includes, chocolate, flowers, little gifts and hopefully, really hot sex. Because he’d been dying forever to get her into his bed and keep her there.
Kurt lounged in her doorway, jacketless, sleeves rolled up, a big grin on his face. Butterflies danced a jitterbug in her stomach as she remembered the last time they’d been naked together.
“Rumor has it you’re the new queen of chocolates.” He chuckled.
She saved her document and turned to face him. “And they are delicious.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t think of sending them myself.” His gaze raked over her as if his eyes were undressing her. “New outfit? I like it. Very sexy.”
Oh, my God. Men are so predictable. Max called it. How interesting what a flirty outfit and a mysterious admirer could do to a situation. If she’d shown up in her usual slacks and sweater, without the secret admirer, would he even have known she came to work?
“Thanks.” She gestured at the box. “Have some candy, why don’t you?”
“Won’t your ‘secret admirer’ object to you giving them to another guy?” He used his fingers to gesture air quotes.
“Why?” She deliberately plucked a chocolate from where it nestled in the box and popped it into her mouth. “Is there some reason he should be jealous?”
Kurt unkinked himself from the doorjamb and ambled over to her desk. “There might be. Who is this guy, anyway? How come no one has ever met him? And where was he when you and I were doing the horizontal tango?”
“He was there all the time”a deep voice boomed from behind him.
Kurt’s head whipped around.
Max appeared behind Kurt, a fake smile plastered on his face although a touch of anger flashed in his eyes. “Stacy and I had a little misunderstanding. No biggie. It’s all patched up now. Anyway, she won’t be doing the tangowith anyone else anymore. Her dance card is filled.”
Deedee stood in the doorway, eyes wide, face flushed with excitement. “Sorry, Stacy. He said you were expecting him and just breezed on past me.”
“No problem. He’s right. Go on back to your desk.”
Deedeewas a statue in the doorway, eying Max like he was a piece of candy in that box.
“Go on, Deedee,” Stacy repeated.
Kurt narrowed his eyes. “Wait, you’re Max Sullivan, right?”
Max put on his professional smile—the one he used when local news interviewed him after a triumph on the field.
“Yes. And you would be?”
“Kurt Macallister.” He reached out a hand. “I never miss a Warriors game. ESPN is still replaying that video of the Hail Mary pass you threw in the game against the Patriots.”
“Yeah, my fifteen minutes of fame,” he joked.
Stacy watched the two men in her tiny office space and smiled to herself. She could almost hear Kurt’s brain burning as he tried to figure out what she was doing with Max Sullivan. Max, on the other hand, behaved pleasant but aloof and looked as if he wished Kurt would get out of there already.
Winking at Stacy, he walked around the other man, lifted her from her chair, and pulled her in tight to his chest. Then, without further warning, he brought his lipsdown on hers in a kiss that curled her toes and sent moisture flooding her panties. His body was hard against hers. All of him was hard including his rock-hard penis imprinting itself on her flesh through her flirty little skirt.
If he gave a performance, it was a damn good one. So good her wits scattered like leaves in a breeze.
“Well.” Vaguely, Stacy heard someone clearing his throat. “Apparently this isn’t a good time to chat with you.”
She opened her eyes and glanced over Max’s shoulder. Kurt still stood in front of her desk, hands in his pockets, irritation and maybe jealousy lining his face.
Max lifted his mouth from hers. “Yeah, that’s right. Stacy’s leaving for lunch and won’t be back for a while.” He turned his face to Stacy, still holding her close to him. “You ready, sugar?”
Stacy’s mind spun. She barely heard whatever comeback Kurt made, too busy staring at Max through lust-clouded eyes. Lordy, the man was gorgeous. Clad in black slacks and a black V-neck sweater, with a smidgen of sexy chest hair peeking over the ribbing, his outfit practically matched his hair, and the blue in his eyes appeared deeper than ever. He topped it all with an elegant camel colored sport jacket and a smile that came straight from the devil himself.
“Get your purse, Stacy,” he told her. “Time to go.”
“Um,” was all she could manage.
Max took a step back, his sensuous mouth crooked up in a smile. Sensuous mouth? When had she put those two words and Max together?
“Stacy? You ready, sweetheart?” His warm voice wrapped itself around her like an erotic blanket.
“Uh, yes. Let me get my purse.”
Pulling her scrambled brains together, she managed to retrieve her bag from her desk drawer without dropping it.
“She may be late getting back,” he told a dumbfounded Deedee as they sailed into the hallway.