Sam's Promise: Blackwater, Book 1 (12 page)

As he took off down the street, Julie sat back in her seat, content to enjoy the ride with the sexy man who’d so sweetly stolen her heart.

About the Author

Anne grew up in a small town in central Ohio the only girl with three rowdy, older brothers. When she wasn't playing tackle football with them she could be found tucked away in her mother's book room getting lost in mysterious worlds created by authors such as Martha Grimes and Andrew M. Greeley. She's had a variety of odd jobs including Chiropractic Assistant, Frame Stylist, Restaurant Hostess, and Nail Technician.

Anne now lives with her fabulous husband, two gorgeous teenage daughters, two ornery dogs, three snooty cats, a tree frog named Gus, and a snake named Salizar. When Anne's not dressing, feeding, cleaning or spending time with them, she can be found at the computer writing stories hot enough to make your toes curl!

Anne loves to hear from her readers. You can find her on Facebook at
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Look for these titles by Anne Rainey

Now Available:

Haley’s Cabin

Seduce Me

Burn

Turbulent Passions

Dare Me

A Little Bit Naughty

The Vaughn

Touching Lace

Tasting Candy

Taking Chloe

Tempting Grace

Cape May

What She Wants

What She Craves

What She Needs

Taking turns was never their strong suit…

What She Needs

© 2011 Anne Rainey

Cape May, Book 3

Devon Mason and Con Walker are sexy, honorable, loving, and completely devoted. In other words, everything Tory looks for in a relationship. But what’s she supposed to buy her two lovers on V Day? Chocolate? How average is that? Their little love triangle is anything but average!

When Con surprises her with a weekend in Cancun, just the three of them, Tory is all over it—until she realizes Con forgot to include Devon in the package. Now their little love triangle is suffering, thanks to a couple of hard-headed men who both want to be numero uno.

Con was content to let Devon take control at Christmas, but now it’s his turn. A weekend in Cancun seems the perfect place for a romantic getaway—then Devon says he’s planning to surprise Tory with a trip to Aruba, and Con’s possessive instincts kick in. He’d always been happy to share Tory with the guy he cares for like a brother. But the deeper Con falls in love, the harder it is to keep from ripping Tory away from Devon.

Sooner or later something—or someone—is going to give.

Warning: This title contains lots of steamy, explicit sex. Hot, jealous men in need of a strong, intelligent woman. And a warm, loving ménage a trois relationship.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
What She Needs:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Con looked up from his desk to see Devon striding into the room. By the looks of him, he was good and pissed. Damn. Con had known this was coming and he’d dreaded it. “If you’re here to bitch at me, then get to it. I’m busy.”

Devon crossed the room until he stood on the other side of the desk, fists clenched at his sides. “Bitch at you? You upset Tory, Con. You booked Cancun without talking to me. And unless I’m mistaken, you looked ready to land a fist in my face this morning when you came out of the bathroom. So, I repeat, what the hell is wrong?”

Con scrubbed his hands over his face. He was frustrated with Devon and pissed at himself for being a complete ass. The hell of it was, Devon had it right. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dev.”

“Don’t give me the same bullshit you fed Tory this morning. I know you. You were jealous when you saw the two of us together on the bed. What I want to know is, why?”

Con stared back at his friend, his best friend. They’d been through some serious shit together. They’d both grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, but they’d worked their asses off and it’d paid off. They were successful and in love. What could be better?
To have Tory all for myself.
No, that wasn’t right. What Devon and Con had with Tory was good. It was whole. Wasn’t it?

Shoving that nagging question aside, Con said, “You’re right. I was jealous. I’ll deal with it.”

Devon frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Will you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks as if you’d be as happy as a fucking clam if I were out of the picture.” Devon planted his hands on the desk and leaned close. “I love Tory as much as you. I’m not letting her go.”

For a moment, Con was too shocked to speak. He could count on one hand the amount of times Devon had gotten up in his face about something. Hell, the man was always so friggin’ calm it bordered on annoying. “Christ, relax, will you? I never asked you to do anything. It was just a momentary lapse. I’m over it.”

Devon pushed away from the desk and took two steps backward. “You’re over it, huh? Then you won’t mind if I surprise Tory with a trip to Aruba for Valentine’s Day?”

Every muscle in Con’s body tensed. “What did you say?”

“The three of us in Aruba. I’m thinking of booking the trip today. In fact, maybe you should go ahead and cancel the trip to Cancun. Or go alone. Take your pick.”

Con shot to his feet and moved around the desk, a red haze of anger flooding his brain. “I already told you and Tory this morning. The flight is booked. The room is reserved. We’re going to Cancun.”

“And I told you it wasn’t your call alone to make. Tory isn’t yours. She’s ours. Get that through your thick skull.”

“So, what, now we’re going to make her choose between your trip and mine? That’s juvenile, damn it!”

“All I know is that I’m damn tired of seeing that look on your face when it comes to her.”

Con threw up his hands and shouted, “What look?”

“You want her for yourself. It’s so obvious it’s not even funny.”

Jesus, he really was transparent. “I never said that,” he hedged.

Devon pointed a finger at him. “You want me away from her,” he ground out. “Admit it, God damn you!”

Fury had Con speaking without thinking. “Fine! I want her for myself! I see you with her and my blood boils. I see her touching you and it makes me want to hit something. Are you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”

Devon shook his head. “No, Con, I’m not happy.”

Con cursed. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face only once before. They’d been nineteen, working dead-end jobs and trying to make ends meet. Con had come home to their shit apartment in a bad mood one night. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what had set it off. He’d taken it out on Devon, though. The final straw had been when Con had punched him in the face. He’d broken Devon’s nose. Devon had looked hurt—and not just physically.

“Look, man, I’m sorry,” Con muttered. “I’ll get my shit together, I promise.”

Devon didn’t look convinced. “You know this can’t work if we’re not both in it one hundred percent, right?”

Con shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. He was wrecking everything. Con Walker, always the screw-up. “I know, I know.”

“So, maybe we should do like we did at Christmas.”

Con stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“We leave the decision to Tory.”

“You really want her to choose between us? That’s not fair to Tory, and you know it.”

Devon shook his head and looked down at the floor. Con found himself holding his breath. When Devon’s gaze came back up to meet his, he could swear his eyes were a little too bright, a little too watery. “I’m not trying to get all sappy here.”

“But?”

“I care about you. Like a brother. That will never change.”

“Same here, Dev.” Con stepped forward, a sense of foreboding skating down his spine. Devon put up a hand in warning, effectively stopping Con in his tracks.

“I know you, Con. You aren’t going to get over this.” Con started to argue, but Devon rode right over him. “You want Tory and you want me gone. I can’t walk away. I can’t give her up—not unless it’s what
she
wants.”

How had things gone from great to shit so damn fast? This was a new record for him. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Then we need to figure out a way to make this work. For all of us.”

Con had racked his brain trying to think of some way to get over his growing possessiveness toward Tory—and he’d come up blank. “Got any suggestions? Because I’m fresh out of ideas here.”

Devon quirked a brow. “Actually, I do have a suggestion.”

For the first time in weeks, Con felt a spark of hope. “I’m all ears. Spill.”

“Not yet.”

“What the hell do you mean,
not yet
?” Con cursed under his breath. “My life is spinning out of control and you want to play twenty questions?”

“I’ll tell you and Tory at the same time. She should be kept in the loop here. We can’t make decisions like this without her.”

“Christ. Just give me a clue here. I’m drowning.”

“No, you can wait and hear my idea when Tory gets home. But, I can tell you that I’m not going to book the trip to Aruba.”

When Devon turned to leave, Con had the sinking feeling he’d lost something. Something he might never get back. “Devon,” Con called out.

Without turning around, Devon asked, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Devon mumbled. Without another word, he left.

Con wasn’t sure how long he stood in the middle of the room, staring at the empty doorway. When he heard the front door open and close, it pulled him out of his misery. He crossed the room and sat in the brown leather couch adjacent to the desk. Was he really going to have to choose between the woman he loved and his best friend? No. Devon had figured something out. Whatever it was it would be a solution that would benefit all three of them. Devon was good at fixing things. Con was good at fucking up.

When they’d hatched their little plan to finally make Tory their own, it’d seemed so perfect. They’d both wanted her. Both knew, even then, that they were in love with her. At first it’d been bliss. Making love to her, sharing their nights wrapped around her. Waking up with her nestled between them. Even her snoring made him smile. There had been a few bumps in the road, but nothing big, nothing life-altering.

He wasn’t even sure when the first spark of jealousy had appeared. Not that it mattered, because it was a full-on blaze now. The only question left unanswered: Could he really choose between the love of his life and his best friend?

One spark could burn her world down.

Keeping Pace

© 2011 Dee Carney

Six years after her husband’s death, Regina Pace is still just going through the motions, her only pleasure a nightly glass (or three) of wine to dull the ache. Tonight is no exception—until a sensual outdoor encounter with her neighbor’s son, freshly home from college. He’s older, wiser, more devastatingly handsome than she remembered. He’s also fifteen years her junior.

Despite her misgivings, it isn’t long before her nightly ritual includes a long, deep drink of Josh Smith. Ogling leads to touching, then the sparks flare into an erotic encounter that feels wickedly right—and deliciously forbidden.

Yet the intense heat can’t burn away the doubt pestering the back of her mind. That the gap between their ages is too large, even for the most determined leap of faith…

Warning: Features a boy-next-door who won’t take no for an answer, more than one sexual fantasy (including some outdoor self-loving!), and a burning romance that proves age is just a number.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Keeping Pace:

Josh took the corkscrew from me gently. “There is definitely an art in handling this task.” Fascinated, I watched him slice the foil around the cork and then dig the metal screw into the spongy plug. After a few quick twists, he pulled upward with ease, dislodging the cork.

The amazement must have shown on my face. Wine sommeliers and connoisseurs tended to be the only people I knew of who moved with such deft confidence. “I waited tables as an undergrad,” he said with a wink. “If a table ordered wine, they tended to tip bigger. I learned how to pour a bottle properly in a hurry.”

“I take it you’re no longer in school?” His confirmation would help me feel a little better. Despite the casual atmosphere we’d generated between us, his youth still taunted me.

“Grad school. Almost done.”

“That’s amazing.” And I meant it. My education didn’t go further than undergraduate schooling, despite my constantly telling myself I should return for a higher degree.

“Oh. I’m sorry… I should have asked…”

His sudden change of topic and subsequent confusion baffled me until I followed his line of sight. In my excitement, I’d forgotten the glass of wine sitting next to the telephone. Not far beyond it, the open bottle of wine I’d set there earlier told a story of its own. Now there were two bottles open. “Don’t worry. Good wine never goes to waste.”

“It looks like you were going to order dinner too, though.” Joshua looked chagrined. “I can’t seem to do any of this right.”

“Any of what?”

“It’s just me over there, and I was kind of wondering if maybe you’d care for some company.” He dropped his gaze, something on the parquet flooring suddenly needing his immediate scrutiny. “I mean, if you weren’t busy.”

My pulse began to race. I tried to put him at ease because I was touched by his boyish charm. “I’d love to, and since you brought the wine, dinner is on me. Take your pick from the menu, and we’ll place an order.”

Conversation flowed easily as we waited, which seemed odd to me. I thought there would be lots of stops and starts, all awkward.

By the time the food came, the bottle Joshua brought was empty. I can’t say who had most of it, but I couldn’t recall my glass ever being empty. Making my way to the door to pay the deliveryman took a slight bit of concentration on my part. I didn’t want to appear buzzed in front of Joshua, despite the very same being true. His gaze rarely left me, to the point I felt its heated caress as I walked away from him.