Sunday, November 30, 2014

A #Viking Sunday Snog from the Naughty List--coming soon! (@naughtyliterati #rafflecopter #romance #sundaysnog)

I'm pleased and proud to be part of the Naughty Literati's Naughty List, thirteen short stories to heat up those chilly winter nights.

The Naughty List is far from your usual vapid fare about kissing under the mistletoe and random sex at office Christmas parties. No--we have stories from the steamiest erotica to the most heart-warming happily ever after. We have medievals and futuristics,  ménages and committed couples rediscovering love. You want romance? You want hot sex? We have it all.

Almost as good is our Rafflecopter giveaway--a Kindle loaded with sexy reads.

Here's the 4-1-1 about Viking in Tartan, a medieval romance from the Highland Vampires series...A Viking raider brings change to little Clan Kilbirnie, especially to the chieftain’s daughter Rhona.

this story was a bit of a departure for me--I'd never written a medieval before. But it was fun!

Here's the snog:

“... I must warn you, you have found your way into the arms of a lost Viking.”

She jumped to her feet with a cry. “A Viking?” She dashed toward the cavern’s mouth.

He chuckled. “And where will you go, on this stormy winter night?”

“Oh.” She stopped and sank onto the cave’s floor.

“Quite so. Be not afeared, little mistress, nothing will happen to you that you do not desire.”

His voice had taken on a silken, mesmerizing quality, and she struggled to think clearly. “But what...what will become of me?”

“Be not afeared. I can take care of you. All your needs.”

He sat in front of her, taking her hands in his. She stared down at them. He had

large, capable hands, scarred here and there... She tried not to think of how he’d probably gotten those scars, but couldna.
“Are ye a...warrior?”

“A sea captain and a fighter, yea. I fight for King Haakon.”

She couldna stop her mouth from twisting.

“Look at me.” He gently squeezed her hands, which felt good.

She raised her gaze to his. His eyes were deep as the ocean and as compelling as the wild wind that had called her to freedom—or death—that night.

“Nothing will happen to you that you do not desire.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I know what you need, dear one.”

Dear one. Her mother had called Rhona that when she’d been wee, before Mam had died in childbed. Rhona’s heart twisted in pain, then wrenched wide open and let him in.

Leaning forward, Erland stroked her cheek, gazed into her eyes and set his lips on hers.

Cool they were, but with an underlying fire. She recalled the feel of his leg between hers, rubbing her, and the memory enflamed her anew. Letting her eyes drift shut, she pushed her mouth against his, sure he held the key, knew the secret, could give her everything she’d ever wanted.

From where had that crazed thought sprung?

Her lids popped open, her eyes meeting his.

“Aye,” he murmured. “Everything.”

How did he ken her very thoughts?

Did that matter?

No, she decided. The how of it wasn’t important. 

That he understood was enough...more than enough.

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