Rider's Kiss (12 page)

Look for these titles by Anne Rainey

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Haley’s Cabin

Seduce Me

Burn

Turbulent Passions

Dare Me

A Little Bit Naughty

Vaughn

Touching Lace

Tasting Candy

Taking Chloe

Tempting Grace

Cape May

What She Wants

What She Craves

What She Needs

Blackwater

Sam’s Promise

Breaking Brodix

Vance’s Rules

Reilly’s Wildcard

River’s Redemption

Man-Maid

No Turning Back

Coming Soon:

Man-Maid

No Man’s Princess

No Regrets

Sometimes you fall in love. Sometimes it mows you down.

No Turning Back

© 2014 Anne Rainey

Man-Maid, Book 1

Several beers into commiserating over their boring nine-to-five jobs, financial analyst Jensen Kershaw and his buddies come up with a brilliant idea: open their own house-cleaning service. So what if they don’t know which is the business end of a mop. What could possibly go wrong?

Getting run over by a runaway truck, that’s what. Fortunately, Jensen is knocked off his feet—and his heart is knocked sideways—by the sexy blonde who saves his life. And when he learns she’s the artist behind a line of fiery custom motorcycle paint jobs, his interest rockets off the charts.

After a bad relationship and miscarriage that left her shattered, the only way Marquetta gets through her days is sinking herself so deep into her art, her brothers are worried about her. Yet the sinfully sexy charmer who winds up in her lap begins to thaw her long-frozen emotions, and it scares the hell out of her.

A long time ago, she swore “never again”. Too bad her heart isn’t in the mood to listen…

Warning: Contains a sweet-talkin’, tattooed hero, a heroine with a chip on her shoulder, and the creative use of a feather duster.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
No Turning Back:

Jensen had expected for her to be beautiful, but he wasn’t prepared for the immediate rise of heat when he saw her getting out of her Jeep. She’d been distracted by her phone call and hadn’t noticed him waiting at the far end of the porch. Jensen had taken advantage to get a good look at the woman who’d saved his worthless hide.

She had on a pair of tight, faded, ripped-in-the-knees jeans. They emphasized her small, womanly hips and all but begged a man to reach out and touch. A flesh-colored tank top stretched across small, round breasts. Her hair was a riot of golden curls that tumbled down her back. Blondes weren’t usually his thing, but this time he’d be willing to make an exception.

She had the cutest mouth with a full, pouty bottom lip jutting out, and a petite oval-shaped face. He closed the distance between them and reached a hand out in greeting when he noticed her shaking. Had he frightened her? “Ma’am, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m just…” She stopped and closed her eyes tight. “Just not feeling up to par.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She frowned. “Do I know you?”

“Yesterday you saved my life.”

She looked him over, then her eyes widened. “You’re the suit that nearly walked in front of a semi.”

He chuckled. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

She stepped closer to the front door, a look of apprehension clouding her eyes. “How’d you know where I live?”

“This is going to sound a little strange, but I tracked you down from your license plate.” He quickly held both hands in the air. “I swear I’m not a weirdo or anything. I promise.”

She hesitated before saying, “Seems to me like that’s exactly the type of thing a weirdo would say.”

He could see he was getting absolutely nowhere, and with good reason. He’d shown up on the woman’s porch, for Christ’s sake. A total stranger. What the hell did he think would happen? “Look,” he said, attempting to allay her fears, “I know how this must seem, but I really only came here to thank you. I’d be dead if not for your quick thinking.”

“You’re welcome, but I—” Suddenly, she shook so bad Jensen was afraid she’d lose her balance.

He caught her beneath the elbow. “You’re obviously very sick. Is there someone I can call?”

She closed her eyes tight. “No, really. I just need to lie down.”

“At least let me get you inside,” he offered, but she only squinted up at him as if he had some nefarious plan. “You can trust me.”

A few seconds ticked by before she handed him the key to her front door. Once Jensen had the door open, he asked, “The couch?”

When she nodded, he put his arm around her waist and led her across the room. She collapsed onto it and muttered, “I feel completely ridiculous.”

“Don’t. I’m glad I could help.” Jensen spotted a throw on the back of the couch. He yanked it off and laid it over her, but she still continued to tremble. He sat down beside her and laid his palm on her forehead. God, she was burning up. “You’re really feverish. Are you sure you don’t want to call a doctor?”

“What’s your name?” she asked as she stared at him in wonder. Jensen couldn’t help noticing that she had the most incredible shade of green eyes. Jensen had the crazy notion she could see right into the very heart of him.

“Jensen Kershaw,” he answered. “I work in an office building downtown near where you saved me.”

“Marquetta Hayes.” She smiled and closed her eyes. “There, now we’re not strangers,” she mumbled as she drifted off to sleep, her body still clearly racked with chills. When he started to get up, she whimpered, and a sudden spurt of protectiveness filled him. Jensen sat at the other end of the couch and watched over her.

The sun was going down before her fever seemed to finally break. He yawned and glanced at his watch, surprised to realize he’d been sitting there for a good two hours. She was fine now, and he knew he should leave. Instead, he closed his eyes. Just a few minutes, then he’d go.

Marquetta raised her head, instantly aware of a heavy weight against her calves. She scanned the length of the couch and found Jensen Kershaw. His brawny arm rested on her legs and his head was against the back of the couch. Asleep? He snored, and Marquetta frowned. What on earth? The man was a total stranger, and yet he acted as if he’d crashed on her couch hundreds of times.

Pushing his sexy ass out the door ought to get his attention, but some inner devil stopped her. He was sound asleep and completely at her mercy. Tempted beyond reason, Marquetta took the opportunity to look him over. Like, really look him over. Who knew when she would have another chance? Because there was no doubt she’d soon be tossing his gorgeous six-foot-plus frame out of her house and her life. For good.

He wasn’t classically handsome. Jensen Kershaw had more of a rugged, weathered look about him. As if he’d been through the very bowels of hell and had come out with a scratch or two. She took a moment to investigate him further.

His short dark hair framed the rough angles of his face. The five o’clock shadow covering his chin and jawline was sexy as all get-out. Still, it was his mouth that drew her attention. Not even an artist could draw a mouth as lush as his. Not straight and thin, but almost girlish in its fullness. In particular, though, was the little curl of his top lip. Intrigued, Marquetta wondered how a man could come by such a soft mouth surrounded by such a harsh face. In all, his features shouldn’t have worked when they were put together, but somehow on him they did. Very well, in fact.

She drifted her gaze down over his strong shoulders, then his biceps. She noticed a string of tribal tattoos that traveled the length of his arm, only to disappear beneath his shirt sleeve. She wondered if there were more on his chest and was tempted to take a peek. His ripped abs underneath the tight T-shirt didn’t escape her notice either. He was so hard and muscular all over that Marquetta nearly melted right on the spot. But he was a man, which meant he was trouble with a capital T. And too damn good-looking for her peace of mind. But before she could stop herself, Marquetta’s gaze moved south, over the bulge in his faded jeans. He was completely and unabashedly turned on. When her gaze landed on his face again, Jensen was no longer asleep. Instead, he was wide awake and staring at her as if she were lunch. The sneak. Just how long had he been watching her watch him?

“Don’t stop on my account,” he growled.

Well, shit. Marquetta stood and pointed toward the front door. “Leave.”

The best chef wins…but their hearts could lose the prize.

Cravings

© 2014 Dee Carney

Close to the Heat, Book 2

Chef Lee Solomon is
so
going down.

How dare he call a tow truck on Chef Ginger Danielle’s customers just because they might have been parked in front of his restaurant while dining at hers? So what if he’s gorgeous, successful, and a master of gourmet cuisine, it doesn’t mean he can do as he pleases.

When he suggests they settle their differences with an underground cooking competition, Ginger is all in. Her feel-good comfort food against his fancy fare? Game on!

Lee has tried to ignore how badly he wants to see Ginger in his bed, but he’s finished fighting it. Their antagonism—and their mutual lust—is at an all-time high; when it comes to this particular battle, he has no intention of losing. He’s set on seducing the petite chef, no matter what the cost to his profession.

But when it comes right down to it, his pride whispers that there can only be one winner. Does he give up the competition… or give up the girl?

Warning: Features a dirty talking chef, thousand-calorie recipes, and a very private menu of delicious seductions.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Cravings:

“Hey!”

Lee took a deep breath as the five-foot-nothing woman came tearing into his restaurant. Eyes narrowing, jaw clamping down, he tried like hell to keep the irritation from his face. The racing heartbeat, the heat that swirled in his belly, were harder to control.

“Are you seriously calling a tow truck on my customers? Seriously?” Ginger Danielle, a chef in her own right and owner of the shack next door, dared to cross his threshold. Blonde hair spiked in sixty different haphazard points almost detracted from at least half a dozen earrings trailing along the rounded arches of her ears. The signature man’s T-shirt she wore shouldn’t make him breathe a little harder by looking at it, but the lush lines of her body beneath it certainly did. And that ass—Christ, that ass! She threw out hips, thighs and ass for miles.

How many different times had he imagined her on her knees looking up at him with those bright blue eyes while sucking him off? And that wasn’t the only position in which he’d conjured her. He’d come up with at least a dozen. Possibly more. But his favorites always had her beneath him, willingly taking what he offered. A few of them involved a bit of consensual manhandling, always with the understanding that in the end they’d both enjoy the final result. It was almost obscene the way he pictured her draped across a table, ass up, as he plowed into her. Her persistent attitude, the take-no-shit bossiness, made him want to do things to her. All sexual.

He tried like crazy to ignore his body’s lust for her, but damn it all to hell, it would not be tamed. Every time he saw Ginger—every single time—he went hard as he studied her lips, her tits or her ass. And then she had to make it worse by being funny, smart and sassy. Fucking deadly combination.

“My parking lot, my grass, my privilege,” Lee replied. Somehow his voice remained steady, not betraying the annoying excitement of seeing her again.

Every instinct urged him to lift his gaze a fraction, to see how the customers were reacting to this little drama unfolding before them, but he knew better than to take his attention away from his curvaceous spitfire.

Ginger rolled her eyes. “I swear to God, Lee, I swear to God you do these things to get a rise out of me.”

Might be somewhat true. “No, I do these things because your so-called customers have no business anywhere near my place. They’re impeding on my profit.”

“Asshole,” she grumbled, almost beneath her breath but certainly loud enough for him to hear. “You just don’t like the fact that you reside over here in
hoighty-toighty
land. Hell, if a person eats escargot with a salad fork, someone’s likely to hand out a citation.”

“And over there, forks are nonexistent. Got indoor plumbing yet?”

She smiled big, a silly grin that made his lower abdomen tighten, but he watched those hands ball into fists and settle on her hips. Damn, he loved those hips.