Book Blitz & Excerpt: Sharing His Submissive + Giveaway

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Sharing His Submissive By Hannah Murray

Word Count: 56,687
Book Length: NOVEL
Pages: 222

GENRES:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE

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Book Description

When Nick said he wanted to make all of Rebecca’s fantasies come true, he wasn’t kidding.

Nick and Rebecca are madly in love, kinky as hell and ready to push the boundaries a little. As her Dom and her Daddy, fulfilling all her desires is both Nick’s responsibility and his privilege, but while Rebecca loves the idea of Nick sharing her with another Dom, she’s not sure if she’s ready to turn her fantasy into reality.

Nick is eager to facilitate the threesome of her dreams, but it’s no hardship to wait until she’s ready…and, in the meantime, maybe give her a hint of just what two Doms can do for her.

With a small taste of the very sexy possibilities, it doesn’t take long for Rebecca to get on board, especially since she’s developed a small, harmless crush on Nick’s preferred co-Top, his good friend and fellow Dom, Cade.

Nick and Cade have teamed up before, so he knows they can deliver on the promises Nick has made. Together, they’ll be sure to give Rebecca a scene—and a night—none of them will ever forget…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of erotic humiliation and multiple partner sex.

Excerpt

Rebecca crumpled up the last bit of newspaper and tossed it into the box she was using as a makeshift recycling bin. “Last box, all empty.”

“Nice job, love,” Nick said, slipping his arm around her from behind. He kissed the back of her neck, his beard tickling her skin, then rested his chin on her shoulder. “Let’s haul this out, then I’ll order dinner.”

She leaned into him and surveyed the unpacking debris that had taken over one side of the living room. “How about you haul it out, and I’ll order dinner?”

“A traditional division of labor?” he mused. “Very Donna Reed of you.”

“Donna would make dinner, not order in,” she reminded him, and tried not to giggle when he gnawed playfully on her neck. “And anyway, I did most of the unpacking.”

“Because you didn’t trust me to put your stuff in the right places.”

“True.” She turned her head to smile at him. “But it still counts.”

“Hmm.” He narrowed his eyes, the bright crystalline blue darkening slightly. “I’ll take out the recycling, but you have to eat dinner naked.”

She forced a frown, even though her pulse began to pound in anticipation. “That’s not one of the rules we agreed on.”

His lips twitched in a smirk. “It’s not a House Rule, it’s a Now Rule.”

“A Now Rule?” she parroted, and frowned harder to keep the smile off her face. “What is that, something you get to invoke anytime you want something not covered by the House Rules?”

“It’s a spur of the moment negotiation for a specific situation. If you want me to haul all that away by myself, you have to eat dinner naked.”

She eyed the broken-down boxes and wadded-up packing material that covered half the room. After a day of unpacking and arranging her belongings in his—now their—loft, she was ready to sit down and relax, and eating naked didn’t sound like too big a price to pay to do it. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Eating naked is dangerous. What if I drop hot food on myself?”

“Order sandwiches,” he suggested.

She looked at him with a horror that wasn’t entirely feigned. “Have you ever had breadcrumbs in your crotch?”

“I can honestly say I have not.” He arched an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Well, no,” she admitted. “But I’ve had sand in there, and I’m guessing crumbs would be just as bad. I want a napkin for my lap.”

“For a napkin, you’ll have to wear a butt plug.”

I’ll need a napkin for under me, too, she thought. Her pussy was wet just thinking about him plugging her ass. She sighed heavily, the picture of a beleaguered, long-suffering submissive. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he echoed, and bent to capture her lips. The kiss was quick, with a just a teasing hint of tongue. When he lifted his head again, his gaze was bright with amusement. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

She forced her eyes wide and blinked, projecting innocence for all she was worth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” He slid his hand from her waist to her breast, where her nipple was trying to poke through her T-shirt. He gave it a firm tug, sending a quick bolt of sensation straight to her pussy. “You’re sure that’s the story you want to go with?”

“Give me a minute to think of a new one,” she managed, and he laughed.

“Order dinner, then take a shower,” he said, his hand light on her breast. She wanted to lean into him for firmer contact, but that would give him the advantage. Not that he didn’t already have it, but still. “When you come back, bring the blue butt plug and the alligator clamps.”

She was nodding before she caught the last part. “Wait. You didn’t say anything about clamps.”

“That was before you tried to fool me,” he said, and squeezed her nipple hard enough to make her squeak. His grin was pure perverted delight. “Infractions require corrections, baby girl.”

“I don’t think that’s fair,” she said, breathless from the spike of pleasure-pain.

“Want to make it a butt plug, alligator clamps, and a vibrating egg?” he asked, his fingers still tight on her nipple.

Shit. She shook her head.

“Then say, ‘yes, Daddy’,” he advised, his eyes gleaming, “and do what you’re told.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she parroted, and bit her lip when he released her nipple. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed, and gave him her best pout.

It just made him grin. “Good girl,” he said, and kissed her one more time before striding to the pile of boxes.

Rebecca shook her head and walked around the free-standing wall that served to separate their sleeping space from the rest of the loft, her body humming with arousal. It was amazing what that man could do to her with those two magic words. Sometimes she wondered if he could good girl her to orgasm, using nothing but his voice and the approval she craved to get her there. She didn’t think it was possible, but she wouldn’t bet against Nick, or the powerful, incendiary effect he had on her.

It might have been embarrassing if she didn’t like it so much. But she did, and so did he, and knowing that made everything okay. Besides, she had the same effect on him—he was just better at controlling his responses. Hell, he was better at controlling everything…including her.

She wondered just how he was planning to control her tonight, and pulled out her phone to order dinner.

With the sandwiches on their way—estimated delivery time, twenty-two minutes—she stripped out of her moving-day clothes of yoga pants and a T-shirt and headed into the bathroom. There were a lot of things to love about the loft—the high ceilings, spacious rooms with plenty of natural light, and secure, covered parking were all great—but her very favorite thing was the bathroom.

It was the size of the bedroom in her old apartment, and almost embarrassingly luxurious. There was a soaking tub long enough to fit Nick’s lanky form with room left over for her, or she could just swim laps in it by herself. Two sinks on opposite sides of the room meant she didn’t have to share counter or cabinet space, and while it didn’t have a place for her to sit and do her makeup, she liked to do that in natural light, anyway.

There was a shower with rainfall showerheads in the ceiling that she could turn off with a touch of the state-of-the-art instrument panel when she didn’t want to get her hair wet, and more shower heads set into the marble-tiled wall. There was even a bench, wide and deep enough to seat two people side by side—or two people with one on the other’s lap—and massage jets set in the wall behind it.

The matching tile covering the bathroom floor was heated, the lights under the cabinet edges were motion activated so she never stumbled in the dark, and, best of all, the toilet was in its own separate frosted-glass-enclosed room. Not that she was particularly embarrassed by bodily functions, but sometimes a body needed to sit for a spell.

And on those occasions, it was really nice to be able to close the door.

She handled those bodily functions first, then stepped into the shower and tapped the wall panel to activate the rain showerheads. Moving day had left her feeling grimy, and even though it still felt like winter outside, she’d worked up a sweat. She might have lingered in the shower, letting the jets and hot water wash away the dirt and soothe sore muscles, but her stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself. Lunch had been several hours of physical labor earlier, and she was hungry.

She cleaned up quickly, washing her hair and scrubbing the sweat from her skin, then grabbed a fluffy towel to dry off. She wrapped it around her hair to soak up the excess water and keep it out of her way while she slathered on moisturizer, then hung it over the heated towel rack and dragged a comb though her dark locks. Her hair was getting to the long-enough-to-be-annoying stage, and she made a mental note to schedule a trim. She’d taken Monday off, assuming she’d be tired from a weekend of moving and organizing, so maybe she’d see if her stylist could squeeze her in.

She left her hair down to air dry and pulled on her robe. A moving-in present from Nick, the thick cashmere was soft, warm, and killer, fuck-me red. He’d said it had caught his eye because it was the exact color of her favorite lipstick, the one she always wore when she wanted an extra boost of confidence. She’d worn the lip color a lot in the three years she’d worked for Nick, and apparently, he’d become somewhat obsessed with it.

She didn’t work for him anymore, and she rarely needed a boost of confidence these days, but she still wore the lipstick. It had a delightfully predictable effect on her lover, one that usually ended in multiple orgasms for her.

She debated putting some on now, but decided it was too much trouble. She left the bathroom and crossed the bedroom to Nick’s side of the bed. He kept the toys they used most frequently in his nightstand, the butt plug and nipple clamps she sought sharing space with leather cuffs, dildos and butt plugs in a variety of sizes, a rechargeable wand vibrator and a leather paddle.

There were other toys in the hope chest at the foot of the bed, just transported from her old apartment that morning, and in Nick’s fully stocked toy bag in the walk-in closet if he wanted a more involved scene. But he liked to improvise, so he kept the basics close at hand.

She tucked the plug and clamps into the pocket of her robe, then shoved a small bottle of lube into the other. He hadn’t asked for it, but maybe she could score some points by anticipating his wants.

She’d take all the good-girl points she could get.

She walked into the living room just as Nick was opening the door to the food delivery, and the open floor plan of the space meant that both Nick and the young man in the open doorway saw her. She kept her hands in the pockets of her robe, fighting the urge to draw it more tightly around her. The fact that it covered her from neck to toes didn’t make her feel any less exposed, and the objects she carried only added to the feeling. Nick knew, of course. It was in the gleam in his pretty blue eyes, in the quirk of his lips as he smiled at her. And, being Nick, he took advantage.

“Hey, baby,” he purred, reaching out a hand in a silent order to come to him. She obeyed it without hesitation, her pulse pounding in her throat. “You remember Adam?”

“Sure,” she said with an easy smile, her fingers tight on Nick’s. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks,” Adam said, his throat bobbing as his cheeks flushed. He was young, in his early twenties, working as a driver for several food delivery services to help meet his college expenses. Their neighborhood was his territory—if they ordered food, there was at least a fifty percent chance that Adam would deliver it.

He had a small, harmless crush on her, which Nick found amusing. Rebecca found it sweet…and when she was wearing a bathrobe with sex toys in the pockets, awkward.

She squeezed Nick’s fingers again in silent admonishment before reaching for the bag Adam held. “Thanks for coming so fast. I’m starving.”

“I had them throw in an extra pickle, just for you.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him, holding the bag to her chest. “I love pickles.”

“I know,” he said, and flushed tomato red.

She cut her eyes to Nick, who winked back and pulled a couple of bills out of his pocket. “Thanks for the speed, Adam.”

Adam took the tip, his eyes widening a little at the amount. “Hey, thanks, Mr. Saint, Ms. McBride.”

“See you next time, Adam,” Rebecca said with a little wave as Nick closed the door. As soon as it was shut, she shook her head at Nick. “You’re terrible.”

Nick merely grinned. “Seeing you in that red robe probably made his day. If you’d come out naked, he’d have passed out.”

She rolled her eyes and headed for the kitchen. “Good thing I’m not going to do that, then, isn’t it?”

He took the bag from her and unpacked it, setting the sandwiches, chips, and pickles—two for her, one for him—on the plates she laid out. “And if I told you to?”

She pulled a couple of bottles of beer out of the fridge and met his raised eyebrow with one of her own. “Involving other people in a scene who have not explicitly consented to being involved in said scene falls under the heading of Things I Will Use My Safeword For.”

“God, I love it when you get prissy.” He grinned and smacked her ass. “Reminds me of all those times I wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck the sass right out of you.”

She resisted the urge to rub her stinging butt and scooped up her plate. They didn’t have a dining room table yet, because Nick had never seen the need and her old place hadn’t had room. They were going to go shopping for one together, but in the meantime, their dining options were the living room or the breakfast bar. “Where do you want to eat?”

“Living room,” he decided, and followed her over.

She was lowering herself to the sofa when he said, “Don’t sit.”

She glanced down, thinking she might have been about to sit on the television remote, but there was nothing there. “Why?”

“Because.” He set his own food on the coffee table, grabbed one of the pillows from the corner of the sectional, and tossed it on the floor at her feet.

Her belly fluttered as she contemplated the cushion on the floor. “This is new.”

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About the Author

Hannah Murray

Hannah has been reading romance novels since she was young enough to have to hide them from her mother. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband—former Special Forces and an OR nurse who writes sci-fi fantasy and acts as In-House Expert on matters pertaining to weapons, tactics, the military, medical conditions and How Dudes Think—and their daughter, who takes after her father.

Find out more about Hannah at her website and blog.

Giveaway

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Hannah Murray’s Sharing His Submissive Giveaway

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Sun, Sea and Satisfaction Guaranteed + Giveaway

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Sun, Sea and Satisfaction Guaranteed by Hannah Murray

Word Count: 49,054
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 193

GENRES:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE

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Book Description

What’s a vacation without a fling?

The last place Clio Reed wants to be in the middle of July is on a cruise ship in the Caribbean, but when the matriarch of the Reed family calls for a family vacation, everyone listens. Clio figures this vacation will be an exercise in annoyance and frustration, but she didn’t count on her great-aunt’s new husband—or his son…

Fox may be her new step-cousin, but after one look at the dark-haired, green-eyed hottie with the perpetual grin and amazing forearms, her feelings for him are anything but familial.

Maybe this cruise won’t be such a drag after all.

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of anal sex.

 Excerpt

Clio Reed closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and reminded herself that she was on vacation.

The little cabin was perfect. Nestled in the woods on the edge of Lake Michigan, it was accessible only by an unmarked dirt road hidden so well that even the people who owned the cabin would have trouble finding it. The wide porch was screened to keep the bugs out, and held a pair of thickly cushioned lounge chairs which were perfect for lazy summer days. She could stretch out after a morning swim in the lake with Cecil, snuggle into the thick cushions with her e-reader after lunch, and watch the sunset over the lake with a glass of wine after dinner. Cecil would stretch out on the deck’s wooden planks, snoring as he slept off a day of romping in the water. She’d sleep cozy and comfortable in the king-sized bed, and the next morning, they’d get up and do it all again.

She could take leisurely walks, play with her dog and read as many romance novels as she wanted, blissfully alone. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost smell the lake and the rich, loamy scent of the woods.

The knock on the door made her concentration waver, but she ignored it and drew another deep breath. She imagined she could hear the sounds of the woods, the chirp of crickets and the gentle rush of the wind through the trees, the creak of the porch boards under her feet as she walked to the lounger and settled in to read—

Knock, knock, knock.

Her vision wavered, nearly disappearing at the three hard raps. She grunted, an annoyed rebuke for whoever was pounding on her door forming on her tongue. She swallowed it down, wiggled to settle more firmly into her cross-legged position, and pulled the image clear into her mind once more. There was her cabin, lovely and perfect. She was lying on the lounge chair, Cecil’s furry bulk on the chaise beside her, no one around to inter—

Knock, knock, knock. “Come on, Clio. I know you’re in there.”

“Leave me alone,” she mumbled under her breath, eyes still closed, mentally in her lakefront paradise, an e-reader in her hand and her dog at her side. “I’m on vacation.”

“Mom wants everyone out on the upper deck for a family meeting. She sent a message on the family chat, so I know you got it.”

No, I didn’t, she thought smugly. Because her phone was tucked away in a drawer, turned off as a hedge against just such a maneuver.

“You were supposed to be there ten minutes ago. You’re holding everything up.”

This floating nightmare isn’t even underway yet, and it’s already started. Ignoring her younger brother—and the small pang of guilt—with the ease of long practice, Clio rolled her shoulders, straightened her spine, and tried to find paradise in her mind once again.

“Dammit, Clio.” Bam! Bam! Bam! “I’ve got better things to do than be Mom’s errand boy.”

“Tell her no,” she shot back, then bit her lip.

“I heard that,” he crowed.

“Shit,” Clio muttered and opened her eyes.

Instead of the rolling waves of Lake Michigan lapping at a sandy shore, she saw the industrial carpet, cream-colored walls, and impersonal décor that made up her stateroom on the Duchess Dream cruise liner.

Since it was a third of the size of a budget hotel room, stateroom was a stretch, but calling it a floating cell had earned her a disappointed look from her mother. Cam knocked again, then rattled the knob. “Come on, Clio. You know if I go back up there without you, she’s going to come to get you herself.”

“I’m coming,” she called, resigned and resentful, and slid off the too-soft bed to open the door.

Her brother’s handsome face wore a predictably smug smile, which went perfectly with his frat-boy-on-spring-break outfit of a Ron Jon Surf Shop T-shirt, board shorts, and flip flops. “What took you so long?”

“Ha,” she replied, and walked back into the room, leaving him to follow.

“Wow,” he said, looking around. “This is small.”

“I know.” She sat down on the tiny couch, which was really just a wide, shallow chair with two small, hard cushions. The couch was too hard, the bed was too soft—she felt like Goldilocks on the cruise from hell. “Mom says it’s my fault for making my reservations at the last minute.”

“She’s not wrong.” He wandered over to look out of the porthole over the double bed. “If you’d booked when Tara and I did, you’d probably at least have a window.”

“I was hoping Mom would cave.”

“What an optimist.” Cam sat beside her, wincing as he settled on the hard cushion. “It won’t be so bad. She’s been pretty mellow, actually.”

“Which is why she sent you down here to fetch me.”

“Okay, so mellow is probably an exaggeration.” Cam patted her knee in sympathy. “But I’ve got something that might help.”

“A prescription for tranquilizers?” she asked hopefully.

“I’m not medicating our mother.”

“I meant for me.”

“I’m not medicating you either.” He pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket and flipped the lid open. “I’m going to ask Tara to marry me.”

“Holy crap, Cameron.” She stared at the ring. “Is that Grammy Reed’s ring?”

“Yeah.” He turned the box so the diamond caught the light. “Dad gave it to me when I told him I was going to propose. I wanted to make sure that was all right with you.”

She blinked in confusion. “You want my blessing?”

“No. I mean, I’m happy to have it, but I’m talking about the ring. You’re older than me, so technically, it should go to you.”

“Technically, it should go to Carter,” she countered. “He’s the oldest.”

“Dad said he’d offered it to him when he and Gabe got engaged, but they didn’t want it.”

Clio looked at the ring again, its delicate gold filigree and central stone gleaming in the light. “Yeah, I don’t think it would fit Gabe.”

“Dad told them they could keep it for their kids, but Carter said he was fine with it going to one of us.”

“Cam.” She reached up to cradle his face in her hands. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks.” He squirmed a little, delighting her. “You’re not going to get mushy, are you?”

“Hell, yes,” she said, and pinched his cheeks for emphasis. “It’s absolutely okay with me if you give Grammy’s ring to Tara. It’s perfect for her.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at the ring again, his smile going sappy. “Yeah, it is.”

“When are you going to ask her?”

He snapped the box shut and tucked it away. “Tonight, at dinner. I can’t wait to see Mom’s face.”

Clio started to point out that it wasn’t their mother’s moment, then bit her tongue. If Cam and Tara didn’t mind, it was none of her business. “She doesn’t know you’re planning to propose?”

He shook his head. “I asked Dad not to say anything. You know she can’t keep a secret.”

Clio snorted. “He better hope she doesn’t find out about that.”

“I know.”

“Although if she’s mad at him, she won’t have time to nag me this week,” she mused. “Would it make me a terrible daughter if I threw him under the bus?”

“Yes.” He pushed to his feet and held out a hand. “Speaking of which, we better go.”

She made a face and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Can’t you just tell them I took a sleeping pill and I’m too groggy to come out on the deck because I might lose my balance and fall into the ocean?”

“No.” He dragged her to the door.

“Wait!” She tugged her hand free and ran the three steps back to the bed for her long-sleeved shirt and wide-brimmed sun hat. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You know it’s ninety degrees out, right?”

“Believe me, I’d prefer fewer layers.” She hated covering up the cute pink top, and could have gone without the sweat she knew would gather under the brim of the hat and soak into her hair. Shorts would’ve been nice, too, instead of the loose cotton pants, but at least this way, she wouldn’t fry to a crisp in the Florida sun.

Being a natural redhead, with the accompanying pale-as-Casper skin, could be a real bitch. Especially when both of her brothers, her parents, and every other member of her family except for Great-Aunt Francine looked like they’d just stepped out of the pages of a surfing magazine after five minutes of sun.

“Can’t you just wear sunblock? You look like somebody’s grandma.”

She smacked him on the arm. “I’m wearing sunblock, you ass. I still burn.”

“Like a vampire,” he muttered, wincing when she smacked him again. “Ow. Quit hitting me.”

“Quit being a dick,” she shot back and smacked him one more time for good measure. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.” He turned back at the door. “Tara asked me to get her a bottle of water. Can I have one of yours?”

“I don’t have any bottles of water.”

“What’s that?” he said, pointing past her to the nightstand.

“That’s distilled water.”

“So?”

“So, it’s for my CPAP.”

“Your what?”

She pointed at the sleek little machine on the nightstand. “The thing that helps me breathe while I sleep?”

“Oh, right. Can’t you refill it at the sink?”

“No, jackass, I can’t. I have to use distilled water, or the minerals in the tap water fuck up the machine.”

He frowned. “That sounds made up.”

She shoved him out of the door. “You can’t have the water, Cameron.”

“Then I have to go back to our room to get one of ours.”

She checked her pocket to make sure she still had her key card, then pulled the cabin door shut behind her. “So go. I’ll meet you up there.”

He narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious. “Give me your key.”

“What? No.”

“I don’t trust you not to go back in there and bar the door.”

She rolled her eyes as though she hadn’t been considering exactly that. “Get a grip, Cameron.”

She headed down the narrow hallway, Cam on her heels. “Listen, our room is on the deck above you. Why don’t you come with me? You can have a bottle of water, too.”

“I don’t need a bottle of water, I’m very well hydrated.” She bypassed the bank of elevators in favor of the wide central stairwell and began to climb. “Go, Cam. I promise I won’t run away.”

“Okay. Tell Mom I’ll be right there.”

She waved a hand and continued up the stairs as he veered off. Half a flight later, she heard footsteps behind her again and stopped climbing with an aggravated sigh.

“Cam, I said I would go,” she began, turning to confront her brother, and found herself face to face with a stranger. “Oh. You’re not Cam.”

“No, I’m Fox,” he said, and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she replied automatically, while her brain sounded the hot-guy alert.

Seriously hot guy. He was big, towering over her even though he stood two steps lower, and handsome. He had dark hair curling over his ears, misty green eyes, and a jaw covered in dark stubble that looked like a vacation beard in the early stages. He wore a plain black T-shirt, khaki cargo shorts and flip flops, and a smirk on a beautiful mouth that, aside from his hair, looked to be the only soft thing about him.

She blew out a breath and tried not to drool.

She didn’t speak, and would’ve sworn that her expression didn’t change even a smidge. But his smirk deepened and his eyes lit with amusement, and it made her want to kiss him and punch him at the same time. To prevent herself from doing either, she said, “What kind of a name is Fox?”

“Family name.” His gaze flicked down then up again, and she fought the urge to squirm in her long pants and long sleeves and grandma hat. “It’s Foxworth, but since that makes me sound like one third of a tight-ass accounting firm, I just go by Fox.”

“Good call,” she said, and with nothing to say besides can I sit on your face?, turned and began climbing the stairs again, automatically keeping tight to the rail so he could walk past her.

He didn’t.

“Who’s Cam?”

She paused and turned to frown at him, still two steps below her. “What?”

“Who’s Cam?” he repeated. “You said, ‘you’re not Cam’, so who’s Cam?”

“My brother,” she said absently, trailing her gaze down his body again. His shoulders were broad, his chest and arms thick. He had actual, visible muscles in his forearms, which were tan like the rest of him and dusted with dark hair. Forearm porn of the highest caliber, she thought hazily and turned to continue up the stairs, holding on to the railing so she wouldn’t fall, trip him, and drag him on top of her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, keeping pace behind her.

“None of your business,” she replied automatically, because really, it wasn’t.

“True,” he said easily, her don’t-fuck-with-me tone having no effect on his friendly cheer. “I only asked because it’s expected. Social niceties and all. I don’t really want to know.”

That was just what she needed, sarcasm from a hot stranger. She sniffed and kept climbing, trying not to be annoyed because her ass looked flat in these pants.

“I don’t need to know, anyway,” he continued. “It’s not like we’re family or anything. Hell, we’ll probably never see each other once we get out of this stairway.”

“If there’s a God,” she muttered, already mourning the loss of his forearms.

“Unless we want to see each other outside of this stairway, of course.”

“Why would we want that?” she blurted out without turning around.

“I don’t know.” He was, annoyingly, not at all out of breath from the climb. “Maybe because you think I’m hot.”

She missed the next stair and stumbled, barely catching herself on the railing in time to keep from falling on her face.

“Careful there,” cautioned a young man in a crew uniform coming down the stairs. He had soft brown eyes, a pretty face and what looked like a pleasingly muscled form under his crisp uniform. “You all right?”

“Yes, thanks.” She smiled at him, and his smile broadened in return.

“Here, let me help you.” He stepped closer, holding out a hand.

“She’s fine,” Fox said from behind her and hauled her up with a strong arm around her waist. “Aren’t you, darling?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth and resisted the urge to kick him.

“Right.” The young man’s smile went from warm and interested to coolly polite. “Keep hold of the railing, now.”

“Thanks,” she said, watching as he continued down the stairs, taking her first prospect of a shipboard hookup with him. Annoyed, she turned to glare at Fox. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, and pulled his arm from around her waist. “Just trying to help.”

“Cockblocking me from the cute sailor is not helpful,” she muttered under her breath and started climbing again.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.” She stopped on the stairs again and turned to glare at him. “What did you say?”

“I said ‘sorry, what was that?’,” he replied with a frown. “Did you hit your head?”

“No, I did not hit my head. Before that, when I fell. You said something.”

“Oh.” His frown faded and the smirk reappeared. “The part about you thinking I’m hot?”

She tried not to stare at the way his shoulders moved in the black t-shirt. Or the way his forearms flexed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. And she certainly didn’t remember how it had felt around her waist, thick and hard and deliciously restraining. “I don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t think you’re hot.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“You don’t?”

She planted her hands on her hips and scowled. “No.”

“Oh.” He shrugged and smiled, unconcerned. “Sorry. My mistake.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, oddly disappointed, and started up the stairs again.

“I probably shouldn’t have assumed that,” he continued, “just because you were staring at me.”

I wasn’t staring. In fact, I made a point not to stare.

“The fact that I checked you out doesn’t mean anything either,” he went on blithely as she ground her teeth together. “I mean, I did check you out, but that certainly doesn’t mean I find you hot.”

Clio kept silent as she reached the top landing, biting her tongue to keep quiet, and crossed to the doors leading out to the deck.

“Not that you’re not attractive.” He followed her out, unfortunately catching the heavy door before it slammed in his face. “You seem lovely, even in those clothes. Are you a member of some kind of religious order that prohibits shorts or something?”

She jerked to a stop and turned to him, her scowl not at all feigned this time. “Yes, actually. Sister Theresa Grumpy Pants of the Order of Perpetual Boob Sweat. Nice to meet you. Would you like a brochure?”

He flashed a grin, quick and delighted. “Hey, you do have a sense of humor.”

“I’m a fucking laugh riot,” she muttered and kept walking, completely unsurprised when he fell into step beside her. “Is there a reason you’re following me?”

“I’m not following you,” he told her. “I’m meeting my family up here.”

“Right.”

“Seriously. Not everything is about you, Theresa. Can I call you Terry?”

She refused to smile. “Sure. Foxworth.”

“Touché.” He leaned forward to peer at her face, keeping pace with her easily. “Are you sure you don’t think I’m hot? We could have dinner later. Maybe play a game of shuffleboard.”

“Are you using ‘shuffleboard’ as code for some deviant sexual act?”

“Would you say yes if I was?”

She just might. He was hot, and charming, and she figured he owed her an orgasm or two for cockblocking her with the sexy, brown-eyed crewman. The possibility of a shipboard romance with a handsome stranger—and by romance, she meant wild sexual romp with absolutely no feelings involved—was the only thing keeping her from diving over the side of the ship and making a break for it. Well, that and the knowledge that her mother was a very strong swimmer, and would no doubt come after her.

She sent him a speculative glance, taking in his cheerful grin and handsome face. There was a slight breeze out on the deck, making his hair float up around his head like a dark halo. And his forearms were still flexing, porn-like.

He caught her eye and sent her a saucy wink. “Okay, just dinner. We’ll find a secluded table for two and you can tell me all about perpetual boob sweat. Who knows? Maybe I’ll join the order.”

“I only have to get two more recruits to win the toaster oven.” She refused, absolutely refused to laugh. “Are you always this chatty?”

“Depends on how much the other person talks,” he said easily. “Though I am sometimes very, very quiet.”

She gave a skeptical snort. “When?”

“When I’m sleeping, eating, or performing cunnilingus.”

The laugh burst out before she could catch it, and he grinned.

“There it is,” he said. “I knew you had at least one in you.”

“Have you been trying to make me laugh?”

“Sure. People are always more willing to say yes to things when they’re in a good mood.”

“What are you trying to get me to say yes to?”

His grin was wicked. “Me.”

“Of course,” she said, more than tempted to say yes to dinner and cunnilingus. A tongue that got as much exercise as his did was bound to have stamina. But she could see her family ahead, her mother’s blonde head next to her father’s blond head, her other blond relatives nearby, and the anxiety that had been surprisingly absent since he’d said, “No, I’m Fox,” in the stairwell was creeping in again.

It was remarkably difficult to say, “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“You sure? Satisfaction guaranteed. I’ll even wear a gag if you want.”

She managed to choke back another laugh. “Intriguing, but yeah. I’m here with my family.”

“Ah. Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be around. It was nice to meet you, Sister Theresa.”

“Likewise, Foxworth.”

“And who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again.”

They were only a few feet away from her family now. She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

“Never say never,” he said with a wink, just as a tall figure with bright red hair broke free from the crowd.

“Darling, there you are!” Aunt Franny, resplendent in a flowing orange caftan with purple flowers and gold trim, came flying toward them. She wore chandelier earrings that brushed her shoulders, blue eyeshadow, and her bright red hair—cut in the same Dorothy Hammel hairstyle she’d been wearing for as long as Clio could remember—was topped with a tiara that sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

“Aunt Franny,” she began, then stood stock still, her mouth open in shock, as Franny’s outstretched arms wrapped Fox in an enthusiastic hug.

“Hi, Mom,” he said and winked at her over Franny’s silk-covered shoulder.

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About the Author

Hannah Murray

Hannah has been reading romance novels since she was young enough to have to hide them from her mother. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband—former Special Forces and an OR nurse who writes sci-fi fantasy and acts as In-House Expert on matters pertaining to weapons, tactics, the military, medical conditions and How Dudes Think—and their daughter, who takes after her father.
Find out more about Hannah at her website and blog.

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Book Blitz & Excerpt: Sun, Sea and Sinful Delights + Giveaway

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Sun, Sea and Sinful Delights, by Jayce Carter

Word Count: 38,639
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 157

GENRES:

BONDAGE AND BDSM
CONTEMPORARY
EROTIC ROMANCE
REVERSE HAREM

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Book Description

Her three sexy houseguests are forbidden fruit, and she really wants a taste…

Jennifer has spent her life trying to be who her rich and proper family wants her to be and never quite living up to it. All that has given her is a failed marriage, a lot of insecurities and a business selling sex toys in secret. When she rents out the rooms of her beach house to three handsome men, however, she wonders if they might just put her toys to shame.

Lucas, Shane and Brandon go on vacation to get over the woman who broke their hearts. They’re tired of being treated as a dirty little secret by girlfriends who enjoy their attention in private but refuse to accept them in public. When they meet the sweet woman who owns the house they’re staying at, though, they realize it might be worth it to take that risk just one more time.

Even as Jennifer starts to fall for the men, she can’t escape the reality that her family will never approve of the odd relationship. In the end, she will have to decide what she really wants—the approval of her family, or a life with three men who make her truly happy…

Reader advisory: This book contains a brief scene involving sexual and physical assault. There is also menion of an emotionally abusive family.

Excerpt

This dildo is way too big.

Jennifer had thought that plenty of times when a client asked her to make something well outside her personal comfort zone, but the payment had always been more than worth it.

Still, when the toy dwarfed the soda can it sat next to, she winced.

No one needs that much.

If any man came at her with that, she’d run in the opposite direction. There really could be too much of a good thing.

She snapped a picture, then finished packing everything into the box. A quick tape job before she affixed the label, and she was done.

Despite their odd proportions, she did love taking special requests. There was something fun and creative about working on a product for a specific client, a challenge that her mass-produced items lacked.

And, yes, so maybe making sex toys wasn’t the creativity most people would picture when they thought about artists, but what did that matter?

She’d found a niche that paid well, that she enjoyed and that she’d found success in.

Not that anyone knows…

She thought about her mother, about the absolute horror that would show on her face if she ever discovered Jennifer’s real job.

Nope. Let her think I just rent out the rooms of my house.

Whatever it took to keep her family off her back was fine by her. Managing them was a full-time job on its own.

Jennifer’s ringtone had her leaving her newly sealed package on the living room table and rushing to answer her phone.

“I think we should try online dating,” Mandy said, mid-conversation as she always was, as if Jennifer hadn’t really needed to answer for the talk to go exactly the same way.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on. You haven’t been on a date in, like, a year. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“What’s the point?”

“How about sex? Forever love? Sex? A partner? Did I mention sex?”

Jennifer leaned her hip against the stool at the counter. Love wasn’t something she really believed in anymore, and sex?

That was nothing the thing she’d just packed up couldn’t handle just fine.

Well, maybe not that box.

“Internet dating is for people who want to have a higher-than-average chance of being murdered,” Jennifer pointed out.

“It’s for people who don’t go out enough to meet anyone the old-fashioned way. I’ve tried to get you to go to bars, to go anywhere, and you refuse. At this point you’ve got two options—online or bar hopping with me.”

The thought of bar hopping with Mandy made Jennifer instantly feel older than her twenty-eight years. While her friend might be a bundle of uncontainable energy, Jennifer wasn’t.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jennifer said, ready to go into her hand-holding, sweet rejection that wouldn’t hurt Mandy’s feelings too much. Despite them being good friends, Mandy required a lot of work.

A ringing doorbell felt like a rescue, especially since it was loud enough that Mandy had to have heard. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“You rang that yourself, didn’t you?”

Jennifer laughed, almost wishing she’d thought of that. “No, I didn’t. My renters are here.”

“Oh, right. You’re at full capacity for this week, aren’t you?”

“Yep. All three rooms booked together.” Jennifer had scanned the information first, as she always did. The three men were veterinarians and had the same hospital listed for employment. She liked hosting groups, because they tended to need her to entertain them less than singles.

“Well, if they’re hot, bring them to my place on Saturday night. I’m having a party.”

Jennifer groaned at the idea, having already decided that there was no way she’d be inviting them. Still, it was easier to smudge the truth. “Sure, if I think it’ll be their sort of thing. Got to go.”

They hung up, with Jennifer putting her phone back on the charger. She rushed to the front door, reaching it just after the doorbell rang a second time.

She expected to find three older men, the sort who wanted to get away for a few days. She’d hosted all sorts of people at her beach house, and much to Mandy’s lament, it was never young, hot guys.

Except this time…

On her porch stood three men who could have walked right out of any LA casting call.

Talk about tall, dark and handsome…

Jennifer stared so long that it took the one in front clearing his throat to bring her brain back online.

She smiled, trying to play it off as if it hadn’t just happened. “Sorry. Lucas, Brandon and Shane, right?”

The man in front nodded, though a soft chuckle said he’d caught her slip-up. “Yeah. I’m Lucas, in the jeans is Brandon and in the shorts is Shane.” He gestured behind him, letting Jennifer connect faces to the names she already knew.

Lucas had dark skin and even darker eyes. Stubble over his jaw had started to gray, but somehow it only made him more attractive. He wore a pair of slacks and a tucked-in white polo shirt. His hair was trimmed short and neat, and his smile could melt an iceberg.

Brandon wore faded blue jeans and a T-shirt, his dark hair short and simple, as if he hated going to the barber so always picked the easiest option. He had brown eyes too, but while Lucas’ were oak, Brandon’s were honey.

Lastly, Shane had pale skin and reminded her of a college kid. He had his hair shaved at the sides and messy on top, and the bluest eyes that held an unusual humor to them. He reminded her of Mandy a bit, with that same frantic energy inside him.

Lucas cleared his throat again, and she didn’t bother to hide her mortification. Jennifer had rented out rooms in her house for the past six years—why was she acting as if these were the first good-looking men she’d ever seen?

Probably because they’re the first you’ve been this close to in a long time.

She could almost hear Mandy piping in, telling her to pick one and make a claim.

“Come on in,” she said, trying for casual and to pretend that she hadn’t been staring at them. “You’re veterinarians, right?”

Work was always a safe conversation.

Lucas caried in his bag, the others behind him. “Yeah. We run an animal hospital. Brandon handles livestock and large animals, Shane does most of the day-to-day visits and treatments and I’m the surgeon.”

Well, that explained a bit of Lucas’ I’ve got things under control attitude. While any sort of medicine took confidence, actually cutting into any living being to fix them required a calmness and steadiness that Jennifer sure didn’t have.

When they followed her into her living room, she realized that her house—which she had always thought of as rather large—was not nearly big enough for men of their size.

She led them into the kitchen, showed them where the coffee maker and fridge were, and explained the things she kept on hand. She went over the remotes to the television in the living room, showed them how to get the finicky latch on the back slider open, and the places to sit out back, overlooking the ocean. That was the big draw of renting a beach house.

It was why she could never imagine living anywhere else, either. There was something almost spiritual about waking up to the salt in the air and falling asleep to the gentle rhythm of the waves.

They said little as they went through her routine, taking in the details, not balking at any of her odd rules.

She’d found people often complained about them, thinking they were staying at some five-star resort and forgetting that when they booked a private home, they had to expect some idiosyncrasies.

Finally, they reached the middle floor, where the three main bedrooms sat. A single bathroom was shared between them, but since she didn’t use it, it would be somewhat private for them.

“You can decide who takes what,” she explained. “They’re mostly identical. The builder put all the rooms on the side facing the beach, so they all share a balcony that has stairs down to the beach, and they all have the same view. There’s a shower out back, too, to rinse off the sand. It isn’t fun to track that in.”

Lucas smiled, seeming the quickest to speak. Or maybe he just knew how stunning his smile was, so the group had designated him leader. “Thank you, Jennifer. It looks perfect.”

She tried to tuck her hands into her pockets until she recalled she’d worn leggings, which some idiot had decided didn’t get pockets. “I can make a run to the store tomorrow, and I usually try to pick up a few things for whoever is here. There’s a list on the fridge, so just jot down anything you’d like. I make dinner a lot of nights, and I always make too much, so if you ever feel like staying in, you’re welcome.”

Lucas nodded. “I think tonight we’re going to go out, try something new. Any suggestions?”

“Well, what are you looking for? Quick and local, fancy?”

“Local is more our style.”

Jennifer listed off a few places, all small ones that might not make the list for fanciest but had the best food.

The men thanked her before picking their rooms and leaving her to stare at the end of the hallway.

Mandy’s words ran in her head, and the temptation to give in was so strong, she took a step backward.

Nope. Sleeping with men who were only in town for a week was a very stupid idea, and the fact that she’d even considered it meant Mandy was right. Jennifer had gone far too long without a man.

So instead, she gave in and messaged Mandy.

Okay, set up the date.

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About the Author

Jayce Carter

Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing. You can learn more about her at her website.

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Jayce Carter’s Sun, Sea and Sinful Delights Giveaway

JAYCE CARTER IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GET GET A FREE EBOOK FROM THE AUTHOR! Notice: This competition ends on 20th July 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.