“We don’t have to be back until the exhibition and the start of Georgie’s term, next month, so we’re in no rush at all.”
Georgie nodded her agreement, happy at the way they were linked, content to go anywhere with him. The road ahead, the Highlands, and Cal in her arms. It sounded perfect. She sighed, blissfully happy.
Jason pulled the jeep out into the traffic.
She tucked her body in against Cal’s, watching the road ahead. Going along for the ride had changed her life. When Cal kissed her and whispered words of love to her in the back seat of that jeep, she knew she was well on her way to total heaven. But weren’t they all?
Saskia Walker
Saskia Walker lives in the north of England, close to the Yorkshire moors, a beautiful, windswept landscape made famous by the Bronte sisters. She writes fiction across several genres: fantasy, erotic romance and erotica. British by birth, she has traveled extensively and believes that visiting exotic countries contributed greatly to her desire to write, that and an extremely vivid and active imagination!
Saskia has an academic background, with a BA in Art History and a Masters degree in Literature. Creative writing has always been part of her life but has become more important as time has passed, drawing her away from all manner of diverse careers. She has worked as a gallery assistant, an academic librarian, a university administrator, a liaison officer for overseas students studying in the UK, and she coordinated a voluntary befriending scheme for children in care. She was first published in the small press under the guidance of the leading British fantasy writer, Storm Constantine. From there she wrote short stories for the Virgin UK Black Lace imprint and then for US publishers including Cleis Press and Pretty Things Press. 2004 marked the point when she had more real writing hours and time for those longer projects that had been simmering away at the back of her mind – it was an exciting time! That year she was signed by Red Sage as the first British author writing erotic romance for the Secrets series and in 2005 her first novel was signed by Loose-Id. She has lots more stories to tell!
Saskia's real life hero, Mark, supports her work through all its ups and downs. Together with the big black cat who watches over while she's writing, Mark somehow manages to keep her sane and grounded when fiction threatens to take over.
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Read on for a tantalizing glimpse of
Sierra Secrets: Dead Man’s Party
by Stephanie Vaughan
Available Now from Loose Id
Sierra Secrets: Dead Man’s Party
"Watch where you're stepping. There are several loose boards in this section, too."
Rick's warning to Catherine as they moved through the old house arose as much from self-preservation as concern for her well-being. The slant of the sun's rays was long this time of year, casting shadows that she wove her way between. The smooth muscles that twitched so enticingly underneath her skirt as she walked two steps ahead of him toward the back of the mansion were the definition of temptation. He wanted to take one of those ass cheeks in each hand and sink his teeth into their succulent flesh. Rick could almost taste them already; how his tongue would slide smoothly over first one, then the other, while he held her firmly in place with hands and teeth.
He wanted to smack himself upside the head, though, for giving in to her request to show her the rest of the house. All it had taken was a flash of those blue eyes of hers and a softly spoken 'Please?' and he'd been putty in her hands. Shit. She could be a total leadfoot and he'd be willing to bet that she'd never gotten a
ticket in her life. A couple bats of those eyes of hers and what cop stood a chance? Why should he be any different?
"Oh, look! There it is -- the wash-up sink." Catherine, her voice brimming with excitement, tore her eyes away from the oddly placed sink to smile back at him. Barely two feet from the ground, it would have looked more at home on a kindergarten play yard than the mud room of an old Victorian. But it was the passion that lit her eyes and the radiance of her smile that stopped the breath in Rick's lungs.
"Isn't it something?"
She seemed to be looking for some kind of confirmation from him.
"Yeah. I guess." He shrugged, breathing out at last. "They had big families in those days. A sink for the kids made sense back then."
"Oh, it wasn't for children -- far from it." A hint of amusement crept into her voice at that." It was for the men. The customers. And it wasn't hands they were washing."
A door opened in Rick's mind and he stepped into a roomful of memories.
"Here. Let me help you wash up, love. You've had a long day.”
Cat, her beautiful black hair sliding in inky waves across her silk-clad shoulders, reached for the buttons at his waist. Her fingers, roughened by the hard work he knew she did, taking exquisite care as she slowly unbuttoned his trousers. Gently shoving the suspenders off his shoulders, her hands a caress to his aching muscles, she went to work next on his shirt.
Before removing his shirt, she first scraped her short nails across his chest, the wool abrading the sensitive flesh of his nipples. As he bent slightly, to help her pull the shirt off over his head, his lovely Cat dipped her head to lick and soothe the skin she had teased just moments before.
"Catherine Mary Murphy, I do love you." The words threatened to choke him, so thick did they feel in his throat. He knew he had no right to speak them, and he never had before this moment. But once, just this once, he had to voice what was in his heart so that she would never doubt.
His hands went around her waist, sliding against the silky fabric of her dressing gown. Praise the saints, she was naked beneath it! Her lips came up to meet his, and he felt the answering groan that signaled her passion. Slipping lower, he gripped the soft flesh of her rump, marveling again at how damn good she felt in his arms.
"I think -- “