Anticipation Page 8

  Anticipation… Hell yeah!

  About the Author

  Born and raised in the Southeast, award-winning author Patrice Michelle gave up her financial calculator for a keyboard and never looked back. Thanks to an open-minded family who taught her that life isn’t as black and white as we’re conditioned to believe, she pens her novels with the belief that various shades of gray are a lot more interesting. She’s a natural with a point-and-shoot camera, likes to fiddle with graphic design and, to the relief of her family, strums her guitar to an audience of one.

  To learn more about Patrice, please visit www.patricemichelle.net.

  Look for these titles by Patrice Michelle

  Now Available:

  Susanna’s Seduction

  A bad marriage is like a fierce thunderstorm on a fragile field of wheat. Will a proud Texas cowboy and a stubborn Boston-bred lawyer find shelter from a real summer storm long enough to rebuild their love?

  Second Wind

  © 2007 Dee S. Knight

  Available now at Samhain Publishing

  Cocky cowboy Rafe Walker doesn’t plan to meet a beautiful woman in designer jeans and ostrich boots at the rodeo, but the beauty catches his gaze just before the gate opens for his bull ride. Talk about losing focus! With one glance, his thoughts are of sex-scented sheets, not hard, sawdust-covered dirt.

  A city girl like her would never fit in on his ranch, but a weekend in Dallas? Yes, Ma’am, she’ll do just fine. Little does he expect a ride wilder than with any bull. She grabs hold of his heart and his hottest fantasies and holds on tight.

  Cathy Fitzgerald, raised in a wealthy eastern family, half falls in love with the rakish cowboy after one impulsive weekend of wild sex. She returns to Boston, breaks off her near engagement and waits to hear from Rafe. After months of silence, he surprises Cathy with a proposal. It’s a shock to both of them when she accepts, and moves to his ranch in nowhere, Texas.

  They soon find that passion alone can’t sustain a marriage. Rafe’s pride and Cathy’s long hours at work breed distrust and broken hearts. Giving their marriage its second wind will take an act of nature.

  Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex and graphic language.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Second Wind:

  “I’m going to kiss you, Miss Catherine Fitzgerald. Is that all right?”

  He stepped closer before she had a chance to say yes. She set her cup on a stack of boxes. He tossed his into a nearby trash can, never having taken a sip. Her hands walked up the front of his shirt and over his shoulders to meet at his nape. His hands fit neatly at the small of her back. He pulled her to him.

  He was tall, but on tiptoe her body meshed with his in all the right places. Firm, warm lips met hers. When his tongue demanded she open to him, she did. His flavor burst in her mouth, spearmint and heat, as he boldly explored.

  Raising his head, he looked around with heavy-lidded eyes. He walked across the yard, dragging her beside him. After a quick glance, he threw open a stall door and slipped inside. Moments after closing the gate, he lifted her, fitting her over his erection, scraping her breasts against his chest. She dug tunnels through his hair with her fingers, knocking his hat on the straw where he’d dropped her Stetson. Hungrily, she pulled his lips back to hers.

  She whimpered. He moaned, licking the inside of her mouth as though she were the sweetest treat he’d ever had. The grind of his hips suggested what he wanted and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He took two steps to back her up to the inside wall. She twisted, rubbing her crotch into the bulge that seemed ready to burst through zipper and button and double stitching the jeans ads bragged about.

  Rafe tore his mouth away even while they dry humped against the stables. She buried her face in his neck, oblivious to anything around them, ignoring all but the rising tide of incredible sensations spiraling outward from low in her belly. Her hips had a life of their own, slamming into his, grinding, rubbing, stroking, denim to denim, heat to heat.

  His breath bellowed against her ear, sending tendrils of hair flying. “God, I want you.”

  He smelled of dirt and animal and raw masculinity. His neck was gritty with dust. She didn’t care. Her tongue streaked a path up the cords of straining muscle to his earlobe. She nipped it.

  “Yes.” One word escaped, all she could manage as he shifted slightly and hit the right spot to send her over the edge. She gasped and held her breath, her head thrown back. Pinpricks of light flew across the blackness inside her lids.

  Her nipples, sensitive and erect, pushed against the confines of her chambray shirt. The softness she’d admired when she bought the shirt that morning now seemed rough as sandpaper on her breasts. She should have worn a bra, but her small breasts rarely needed the support. Now the additional sensitivity helped prolong what had been an intense orgasm all on its own.

  Finally, she came back to herself. Rafe’s labored breathing matched hers, though the bulge in his jeans hadn’t diminished. He let her slide down his body and then rested his forehead on her head. The sounds of people walking by penetrated her hearing and bright flames of mortification heated her cheeks.

  “You’re hot, Catherine Fitzgerald. I think I was in high school the last time I did what we just did. And unlike you, Becky Thomson didn’t get off on it back then, though I shot off like a firecracker.” He grinned down at her. “Guess turnabout is fair play, though I sure would like to feel a little relief too.”

  She’d never done anything like that before, never. Not with her high school boyfriend to whom she’d lost her virginity, and not with the society lawyer to whom she was practically engaged back home. She’d had orgasms before, sure, but not with the primal passion she’d just experienced with this man she’d known about fifteen minutes. A piercing blaze had ripped through their clothing, without any touching or foreplay.

  “I hardly know what to say, Mr. Walker. This should be so embarrassing.”

  He stroked her hair, twirling a strand between calloused fingers and staring at it in awe. “Call me Rafe. I think it’s accepted etiquette for two people who humped like rabbits to use each other’s first names.”

  “Humped…?”

  “Umm-hmmm.” He held her hair to his nose and breathed in. “Like rabbits. Though I think usually Mr. Rabbit isn’t still hard and aching when they finish. Jesus, you smell good. Really good.”

  “You smell like bull, Rafe.”

  He burst out laughing and stared down at her, his dimples like shining beacons, calling to her. “You are all dusty and mussed. And so pretty I can hardly stand it. Come back to the hotel with me?”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “I think we knew each other the minute you smiled at me across the ring just before the gate opened.”

  “I did not smile at you.” She fingered his collar, thinking how much she’d like to be touching him instead of his shirt.

  “Oh yes you did. I never flirt with strange women.” She cast him a doubtful look so he added, “Not when I’m about to bull ride. But you…you were different. I knew right away we’d get together.” He leaned down to her ear. “And I’ve never done this before. My partner’s pleasure has never been so important. Come back to the room with me. Let’s do it again only right this time. Let me make you feel good, Catherine Fitzgerald.”

  Will Clay’s lack of loving words bring back painful memories of Bobbie’s childhood or can she put her fears aside and finally find love with her California Cowboy?

  California Cowboy

  © 2007 Maggie Casper

  Clay Bodine has lived on the Lazy B Ranch since birth. He works the land with loving hands while ruling it with an iron fist. When his younger brother mentions hiring a new kid, Clay doesn’t think much about it…until they meet.

  Sparks fly when sassy and independent Bobbie Carlington meets her new boss for the first time. Used to answering only to herself, Bobbie quickly learns that things don’t quite work out that way on the Lazy B.


  When Clay takes Bobbie’s virginity his old-fashioned ways demand he marry her. Will his lack of loving words bring back painful memories of her childhood or can Bobbie put her fears aside and finally find love with her California Cowboy?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for California Cowboy:

  Clay was lying on his bed with his back against the headboard, enjoying a jerk session to its fullest extent, when the door connecting his room to the one beside it swung open. In its wake stood a green-eyed vixen, the exact same one he’d been fantasizing about.

  He’d thought of nothing but her beautifully large breasts for most of the evening and whacking off to thoughts of sliding his cock between those pale globes had seemed the best option. Getting caught at it wasn’t on the agenda. The damned woman was a menace, he thought, as he reached for the sheet to cover his now flaccid shaft.

  “Don’t you know how to knock, woman!” he thundered at a pink-cheeked Bobbie.

  “Uh, well…umm, I…” she stuttered in way of an explanation, her face crimson with embarrassment. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I just wanted to see where this door led.”

  “Well now you know. So if you wouldn’t mind, could you…” He motioned with his hand for her to turn around and leave the way she’d come.

  She did as asked but quickly turned back around, once again catching him off guard. “Oh, but I was wondering…” was all she got out before he lost what was left of his temper.

  “Out dammit, now!” When she scurried to the door, he took a deep breath in hopes of calming his temper. “After I get dressed, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  It was all he could manage when what he really wanted to do was wring her sexy little neck and pound Chance into a bloody pulp. The dumb son of a bitch was too stupid for his own good. Why the hell would he put Bobbie in the master bedroom next to his but not bother to say a word about it to either of them?

  “Whatever the reason, it had better be a good one,” Clay growled as he zipped the fly of his jeans.

  The loud bang of the door reverberating off of the walls accomplished exactly what he wanted. A bleary-eyed Chance, dressed in only a pair of white boxer briefs, came stumbling out of his room.

  “What in the hell are you slamming doors for, Clay? I just fell asleep,” Chance grumbled.

  “Come on, you’ll see,” Clay answered. He was looking forward to his brother’s embarrassment.

  When the two of them reached the living room, Bobbie looked up from her spot on the couch. Her cheeks were still flushed, almost the color of her hair, which was now flowing around her shoulders in a disarray of curls. The fiery mass complemented her pale skin and the freckles dotting her nose gave her an impish look, making Clay want her all over again.

  “This really isn’t necessary, Mr. Bodine,” Bobbie said, clearly not wanting him to relay to Chance what had transpired between them. “Just do something to block the doorway and I promise I won’t bother you again.”

  “Yes, darlin’, I think it is necessary and I’ll take care of the door first thing tomorrow.” Turning to Chase, Clay demanded, “Why in the hell didn’t you say something to either of us when you showed Bobbie to the master bedroom?”

  Clay watched as Chance's eyes widened, his gaze moving between the two of them. “I didn’t think about it. Why?”

  Clay looked to Bobbie, interested to see what she would say. She didn’t disappoint him when she opened her mouth, nothing more than a strangled sound of embarrassment making its way out, before she quickly snapped it shut. She looked completely scandalized by the thought of telling Chance anything. If he wasn’t so pissed off about being caught masturbating, he’d be laughing his ass off at the look on her face.

  “What she’s trying to say is that in her nosiness, she walked through the connecting door and caught me in a rather compromising position, all by myself.”

  Clay had trouble holding back his laughter when Chance turned to Bobbie. “You mean you caught him…” Chance couldn’t say the words but had no trouble making a close-fisted pumping motion with his hand, which only made Bobbie’s face turn a brighter shade of red.

  “I think I’ll be going to bed now.” Her voice was quiet as she obviously struggled for dignity.

  When she was safely out of the room Chance, unable to hold back any more, put his face in his hands and started laughing. “I can’t believe she walked in on you jacking off. Oh man, that is too funny,” his brother said as his laughter subsided.

  “Yeah, and if that wasn’t bad enough, Chance, you replayed the motion for her, and in your underwear to boot.” Clay had his turn to laugh when Chance immediately got quiet. His brother looked down, taking in his state of undress.

  “Well hell, Clay, you could have said something.”

  “Why, Chance? You didn’t bother to say anything when you stuck her in the room next to me.” It felt good to get the final word in the matter, but didn’t help much when he thought about the fact that Bobbie Carlington would soon be sleeping all snug in the four-poster, king-sized bed only a few feet away from him. That thought was enough to set him back a bit.

  He wondered with more than a little fascination what she slept in. Would she wear something that covered her every curve from head to toe or would she sleep in one of those little baby-doll nighties that barely covered her treasures? Clay couldn’t help but wonder which he would like more. Being completely nude would serve a better purpose, but tiny scraps of satin and lace covering her strategically would be purely erotic.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

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