The Naked Detective (11 page)

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Karmic Consultants

The Ghost Shrink, the Accidental Gigolo & the Poltergeist Accountant

The Ghost Exterminator: A Love Story

The Sexorcist

The Naked Detective

Serengeti Shifters

Serengeti Heat

Serengeti Storm

Serengeti Lightning

Love can be a force of nature.

Serengeti Lightning

© 2010 Vivi Andrews

Serengeti Shifters, Book 3

Mara Leonard is through hitting the snooze button on her biological clock. The Three Rocks Pride schoolteacher is ready to get serious about starting a family, and she needs a serious man to make that happen.

Regrettably, that means crossing less-than-serious Michael Minor off her list of potential mates. Michael is impulsive and passionate, but his spontaneity leaks into shapeshifting whenever his emotions run high—a tendency he should have outgrown long ago. As a sex buddy, he’s delicious. Daddy material? Disqualified.

Michael is blindsided by Mara’s rejection. Nine years separate them, and his genetic malady means no one in the pride treats him as an adult. But if she thinks he’ll simply slink away to lick his wounds while she steps into the arms of another man, she has seriously underestimated him.

The tricky part will be convincing his over-analytical lover that he’s more than a disposable sex toy. That real bravery means tearing up her damn checklist and following her heart. And doing it without letting their explosive sexual chemistry expose the Pride’s secrets to the outside world.

Warning: This book features break-up sex, make-up sex, a lioness who’s a cougar and a hot young lion who’s grown up in all the right ways. Note: All electrical shocks are purely metaphorical.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Serengeti Lightning:

He’d wanted tonight to be perfect. This date was his chance to prove he deserved her, to show they were more than just hot sex. He knew she didn’t think he was steady enough to be her mate, but he’d hoped to prove her wrong tonight.

Instead, all he’d proven was that he hadn’t changed at all.

His sister, Ava, would remind him it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it. The pride doctor said Michael was missing a neural inhibitor that drew the line between animal and man.

The science was small comfort. He would never be worthy of the woman curled against his side. How long could he expect her to stay with someone who could never give her the stability she craved? One more month? Two? Then who would she run to?

Michael forced the thought of the man who would take his place out of his head. Jealousy was savage—more likely than any other emotion to bring on a shift. He needed to get her back to the ranch, back onto pride lands, where a loss of control wouldn’t expose them all.

He started to set her away from him, preparing to load her into the front seat, but her scent curled around him. Michael froze in place, his hands tight on her. He barely managed to keep his claws from snapping out.

Intermingled with the sweet twist of jasmine was the sinuous spice of lust. He could taste her desire on the air. While he’d been contemplating his sabotage of their relationship, Mara had apparently been thinking more much luscious thoughts.
Naughty girl.

“Michael?” She spoke softly, a whisper on the warm spring breeze, but he felt that sigh of sound like a fist around his cock.

She slipped between him and the SUV, rubbing her body against his front every inch of the way.

Over the last few months, they’d learned one another’s wants and needs. At first, they’d both assumed they would eventually grow tired of each other, but familiarity had only intensified each experience. They’d learned to play to their personal vices. He knew exactly how to touch her to get her wet in a heartbeat. And she knew he went hard at just the idea of pinning her to things—walls, doors, slippery shower tiles. He couldn’t seem to get enough of crowding her against firm surfaces until she had no choice but to yield her softness to him.

Michael leaned into her, looming over her and pressing her back against the door until he heard the telltale catch in her breath. She loved this too. Mara may be dominant, but she almost never wanted to be on top. She wanted the man who would push her until she gave in, trusting her pleasure to his strength. She wanted
him
.

Now if only he could convince her their compatibility didn’t end at the bedroom door.

Heavy-lidded eyes beckoned him. “Your wildness makes me feel wild,” she purred.

Michael hesitated. Mara was never reckless. She reasoned things out and made the good decision, every time. So there was absolutely no explanation for her current behavior.

He had calmed. He was ready to take her home. All she had to do was hop in the car and drive back to the safety of the ranch. So why was she inciting him?

She urged him forward and he followed her lead. He bore her back against the metal wall of the SUV until the vehicle rocked slightly. She seemed to bask in the warmth of his body, drawing him tighter against her, if that was even possible. A small, sinful curve of a smile flashed out around her mouth.

Was she thinking what he was thinking? If he took her here, against the Cherokee, would they tip it? He knew he shouldn’t want to try, but was captivated by the image teasing his thoughts. When she bit her lip, he wanted to bite it for her then suck that plump curve into his mouth.

“We should go.” His voice was as rough as the gravel beneath their feet, but he kept his hands gentle as they stroked down her sides, over the flare of her hips, pausing above the hem of her skirt.

They
should
go. He should back away. He could yank up that little skirt, wrap those long legs around his hips and fuck her senseless just as soon as they were back on pride land. A fucking parking lot, no matter how late it was, no matter how deep the shadows, was no place for this kind of game. He gripped her hips, fully intending to step away, but Mara—never, ever reckless Mara—forced his hand.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed up onto her toes and captured his mouth in a ravenous, open-mouthed kiss. She begged him with her mouth, drawing him into her madness with each longing pull of her lips and strong sweep of her tongue. Or was it his madness she was surrendering to? Right now, he didn’t know or care. Her willing heat fried his last working brain cells and he fell into instinct and need.

Michael took command of the kiss. He sucked that luscious lip and gently scraped his teeth across it. His hands fisted in her skirt, jerking the stretchy fabric up, and Mara sighed into his mouth. God, he loved the noises she made, the little murmurs and sighs, not quite caught in her throat. She was musical in her passion, an instrument his fingers loved to pluck and strum.

The skin of her thighs was satin beneath his fingers. He wrapped his hands around the backs of her thighs. His fingertips brushed against her heat and he hissed out a curse.

She wasn’t wearing panties. And she was dripping already. His slightest touch called forth another rush of moisture. Her need hit his nostrils, fogging his already blurry thoughts.

With one swift pull, he lifted her. Her legs wrapped snuggly around his hips. He notched his denim-covered erection against her pussy, but he didn’t push like he wanted to, concerned about the rough fabric against her sensitive flesh. He shouldn’t have worried. Mara ground herself on him, tearing her lips away from his to gasp out his name.

“Easy,” he murmured into the hair at her temple, barely recognizing his own voice. He slid his hand between them and slicked a finger through her folds. The touch was designed to be more soothing than arousing. He wanted to wind her up a little tighter before he let her take off.

Vlad the Impaler? Don’t make her laugh…

Feral Hunger

© 2010 Stephanie Bedwell-Grime

Vlad is un-living proof that even a shy guy with the unfortunate name of Leslie can remake himself. Vampire, cad, player, he embraces it all without a pesky thing called a conscience. Until he receives a “special delivery” on his doorstep. A woman on the brink of death. One look at the sexy blonde, and his inner Leslie—his long-forgotten conscience—moves him to do the right thing and save her life.

One minute Jaelyn is enjoying a night out at a club. The next, she’s under a brutal vampire attack. Adjusting to her new life as one of them is hard enough without the added charm of Vlad’s grumpiness with the whole situation.

Instead of sending Jaelyn on her merry way, Vlad gives in to another totally uncharacteristic urge—to solve the mystery of who assaulted her, and why whoever it was dumped her at his place. There must be a connection, and it surely can’t have anything to do with their budding attraction.

But delving into a dangerous vampire underworld could remake their undead lives once again. Permanently.

Warning: Contains hot and heavy coffin action.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Feral Hunger:

Vlad reached his apartment door and sighed with relief. No police tape, no knot of blue-uniformed officers crowded the hallway. He’d met up with one of his usual donors at a nearby club and fed as quickly as possible. All the while, worry had gnawed at his gut. Still, things seemed quiet as he arrived home. His shoulders slumped as the tension left them and he felt in his pocket for his keys.

A scream pierced the heavy wooden door. He flung it open to find the blonde sitting up on his couch and staring at him in complete horror.

She had sea-foam green eyes, he noted abstractedly as she centered him in her gaze.

Vlad gave her what he hoped was a reassuring expression. But in doing so, he smiled a little too broadly, showing a hint of fang. Big mistake. She screamed again.

The last thing he needed was concerned neighbors in the hallways. He rushed toward her and clamped a hand over her mouth, not knowing what else to do. She bit him, hard enough to draw blood. He snatched his hand back. Her scream burst free.

“Shh!” He tried for a more human-looking smile. Usually, he kept his fangs in plain sight. Women liked them. At least the kind of women he favored liked them. The blonde wasn’t fooled. She shrieked even louder.

Vlad covered her mouth with a vise-like grip. It served to muffle the sound, but not much.
No good deed goes unpunished
. It had been his personal motto for some time now. Not that he was often prone to good deeds. He brought his face down close to her ear. “Look,” he said the word with as much gentleness as he could muster. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not the one who did this to you.”

Her eyes widened. He suspected she didn’t believe him, but she fell silent. She had no particular reason to believe him. He had done things to her, things she probably wasn’t going to appreciate once she grasped their full significance. Like making her a vampire.

“How do I know that?’ she inquired against his palm.

He let his breath go in a rush. “You don’t. So you’re going to have to take my word that I found you unconscious on my doorstep.”

She struggled in his grasp. He tightened his grip. At least she didn’t bite him again, Vlad thought with relief. “If I’m going to help you, I need you to stop screaming and listen to me.”

She grew still. Silence stretched between them.

“Can I move my hand?”

She nodded hesitantly.

He drew his hand away, but kept it close, just in case.

She was still staring at him with those startling eyes. “You’re a—a—” She tried to scuttle away from him again, but he held her tight.

“Vampire,” he supplied and sincerely hoped she didn’t scream again. “But I’m not the vampire who hurt you.”

She studied his face and he waited while she perused him. It was often that way with women. They found his looks pleasing. Many of them had told him so. They found his dark brown curls appealing and his even darker brown eyes more so. Apparently not this one though, because she was staring at him with something close to horror.

A powerful attraction is the last thing these arch enemies need. Or is it?

The Trouble with Curses

© 2008 Anara Bella

Selena Tremayne is different. For one thing, how many vampires do you know faint at the sight of blood? Despite the problems her “differences” cause, she’s grateful. It means she’s not an all-out-evil killing machine. It also means she can’t afford to let anyone get too close. And a guy like Rafe, delicious as he is, is to be avoided at all costs.

Rafe Hunter is a vampire slayer, an odd job thrust upon him by dint of birth. And with his augmented abilities, no one else does it better. Those abilities run into a major short-circuit, however, when he meets Selena. The mysterious beauty clouds his every instinct—something he can ill afford in his line of work. Because of her, his quarry has somehow slipped out of his grasp. Twice.

Coincidences are piling up, and he can’t help but wonder if simple lust is the culprit. Or if it’s something deeper—with dangerous repercussions that extend beyond anything either of them imagined…

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Trouble with Curses:

“Okay, Rafe. I know you’re back there. You may as well show yourself.”

Nothing.

“I have no intention of letting you find out where I live, so you have nothing to gain by following me. I’ll wander around all over town all night long before I’ll show you where I live.”

A dark shadow separated itself from the wall. “How did you know I was here?”

His rich, deep voice shivered down her spine in its usual intoxicating way. “I have a sixth sense about these things.”

“Has to be something like that because I’m damned good at what I do. No one’s ever caught me tailing them before.”

She threw him a quizzical look. “You do this often, do you?”

He chuckled. “Actually, I do. I’m a private investigator.”

Well, that explained it. If she hadn’t
felt
him behind her, she wouldn’t have known. “Just my luck.”

“I didn’t intend for you to ever find out I’d followed you home tonight. I was just going to make sure you got in safely and leave.”