Here are two short excepts from HIS OBSESSION NEXT DOOR and FEVER
His Obsession Next Door
Cathryn Fox
Excerpt
What the hell did she think she was doing?
Night blanketed the city as Cole stood near his living room window, watching Gemma mill about her condo through the crack in her curtains. His condo might be the only one with a direct view into her place, but if someone passed by on the street, they could easily see her barely clad body moving from one room to another.
Dressed in a silky little piece of nothing that had his passion-rattled mind urging him to go over there and fuck some sense back into her, he fisted his hands, drove them into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.
A slow tremor worked its way through his body. His cock, still hard since setting sight on her four days ago, when she'd answered her door in a silky nightgown, was ready to break through its zippered barrier and rise up for a front row seat. Seeing her standing there looking all warm, soft, sexy and sleepy, had him aching to capture her in his arms and carry her straight back to her bed. Once he had her where he wanted her he'd climb between those long legs of hers and bury his mouth in the apex of her thighs-something he'd been dreaming of doing for far too long now. Christ, what he wouldn't have done to spend the rest of that day making her scream for him. And scream she would. He growled, and on the floor near his feet, Charlie, who had healed up quite nicely since his surgery, thumped his tail.
Cole gave a hard shake of his head in a failed effort to clear it. He'd been watching her for three long nights now, going into his fourth, and he was pretty sure the girl next door-one who suddenly seemed more seductive than sweet-was up to her old tricks, teasing and tormenting him to the point of distraction.
"That girl is going to be the death of me," he said to his dog, and Charlie gave a whimper, like he was fully aware of Cole's discomfort.
The light in her living room flicked off. Cole shifted, about to grab a cold beer to help tamp down the heat inside him when her bathroom light came on. Jesus, with her curtains parted he could see her standing in front of her mirror, her hands gripping the hem of her camisole. He swallowed, hard, and tried not to look. He really did. But by God, even though ogling the half-naked beauty across the street was all kind of wrong, there was nothing he could do to tear his gaze away from the woman who'd become the object of his obsession. After all, he was a man, and a man only had so much willpower.
She peeled her top off to expose the most luscious breasts he'd ever set eyes on. As lust settled deep in his groin his cock throbbed, aching for attention. Working to summon a modicum of control as she wiggled, he gripped the windowpane and swallowed down the saliva pooling in his mouth. He couldn't see below her waist, but from the way her breasts were swaying, her long dark curls flaring around her face, he could only guess she was shimmying out of her panties.
Fuck.
She turned her back to the window and reached into her shower to turn it on. If he wasn't mistaken she shot a sassy glance his way before climbing in. Son of a bitch. She really was fucking with him
FEVER
Cathryn Fox
Excerpt
The shrill of their special phone pulled him from his musings and helped marshal his thoughts. "I got it." Welcoming the distraction, he jumped to his feet and pushed away from the card table. Without haste, he made his way across the room.
Fuck. Maybe tonight he'd take the call. Although it had been a long time since he'd participated in the Hot Line, perhaps a soft bed and an even softer woman would help take the edge off and get his mind off Sara.
When he glanced at the caller ID, his heart raced, his blood pressure soared. Jesus H. Christ. Everything in him reacted to the name displayed in the small glass window. Tension rose in him as his cock urged him to answer the phone, along with the sexual demands of his body.
What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
Despite his rock hard cock screaming at him to pick up that phone and give Sara exactly what she wanted, he took a measured step back, but not far enough that he still couldn't reach it. If he wanted to. But he didn't want to. Okay, he wanted to, but he wasn't going to.
He was not going to pick it up.
No way.
No how.
Walk away, Mitch. Just walk away.
Before he could stop himself, his fingers closed over the receiver and squeezed until his knuckles turned white.
Just then Dean poked his head around the corner. Grinning like the crazy, intuitive son-of-a-bitch he was, he asked, "You want me to get that?"
"I got it," Mitch growled and ripped the phone from the cradle. He pressed it to his ear and said gruffly, "Hello."
Sara's soft, sexy voice sounded on the other end. "Mitch?"
"Yeah?"
Forgoing pleasantries and getting right to the point, she said, "My kitty stopped purring. I think it needs to be resuscitated."
Sweet Mother of God! Mitch slapped his hand to his forehead and drew a steadying breath, working overtime to tamp down his roaring libido. He failed.
Lust ripped through him like a raging forest fire, making him tremble with pent-up need. He growled low in his throat, unable to tame the primal animal rising up inside him, crumbling his resolve to keep his distance. Despite knowing better, he had every intention of breathing life back into her kitty, over and over again, using every means possible, if he had to.
If she expected anything less, she'd called the wrong guy on the wrong night.
# # #
Accidental Abduction
Eve Langlais
Fall in love? Never! An alien assassin turned pirate has no use for an emotion he can't sell, but that doesn't stop him from falling for the human he captures.
Copyright 2014 Eve Langlais
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
About The Author
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Chapter One
Maybe drowning won't be so bad. Megan's numb arms and legs agreed. Yet, despite the fact her whole body wanted her to stop moving-screamed it actually-she kept fluttering, moving her hands and feet just enough to keep her face above the waves. Every now and then she got a mouthful of salty water that made her choke and did nothing to cure her thirst. At least she didn't have to contend with the burning sun. Chances were she'd succumb to fatigue before the dawn arrived with its warming rays. Her sarcastic side-which was begging for a slap-piped in that she should also show thanks that she'd stopped shivering a while ago, her body acclimatizing itself to the Pacific waters she floated in.
Megan never intended to go for a swim when she set out for an evening cruise. She had her boyfriend-stupid, freaking jerk-to thank for her situation. And to think, she'd thought Cameron was "the one." He'd certainly said and done the right things in his wooing of her and she'd enjoyed his company well enough, most of the time anyway, a rarity for her where men were concerned. She should have smelt something fishy when he'd immediately pushed for them to make everything joint soon after they moved in together-the whole cohabiting thing again, his idea. His claimed, "Don't you trust me?" should have rung warning bells.
There was nothing as foolish as a woman in love, though, or in her case, like. She'd fallen into the trap he laid, and not just the trap of a con man, but a death trap. I wonder if my grave stone will say "Here lies Megan, screwed by a man, yet again."
In her defense, no woman ever expected the man she loved-or liked-to betray them-even if in her case, her track record with men should have provided a clue. She'd blithely agreed to go on a nocturnal jaunt with him, the moonlight cruise a celebration of sorts, the anniversary of their six month dating mark. A record for her. It would now also mark the date of her death. At least the bastard toasted her with champagne before hip checking her off the boat with an exaggerated "Oops." Then, he'd had the nerve to laugh when she'd asked him for help as she tread water, incredulity not making her see the obvious at first.
It didn't take her long to clue in, and then she unleashed a litany of curses that would have made most seamen blush. Of course, the way she screamed in glaring detail the way she'd maim him when she got her hands on him might have factored in Cameron's decision to go through with his deadly plan-or precipitated it? She should have probably left off the gruesome details about how she'd emasculate him. But still, what other reaction did he expect given his action?
Megan heard his derisive laughter for a long time after he steered the yacht away in the dark with only the stars to guide him. Hours later-or so she assumed given the numerous scenarios she'd had time to run through her mind where she survived and got her revenge-she floated at the ends of her endurance and strength, fighting to live even though she knew she had no hope of surviving.