Anyhoo...
This is the "post" if you're interested in winning a PDF copy, leave a comment and your email address. I'll announce the winner on Thursday evening. (You can check out the blurb and read an excerpt below. This one is hot and SHORT. It is a novelette and not a full length novella -- just sayin'. *grin*)
Have a great week!
Blurb:
Three months ago, jaguar shifter Marshall Mackenzie met his mate. Sultry witch Mira Jones is beautiful, smart, and everything he wants -- there is just one problem. Their introduction was orchestrated by his employer, which meant Marshall was forced to break Mira’s trust in order to uncover the secrets of a magical coven responsible for killing innocents. Mira fled from him when she learned the truth -- both angry and afraid -- but Marshall’s determined to teach the alluring female that while she can run from the hunger that now consumes her, she can never hide.
Excerpt:
“Do you think you can stop me after I came all this way, darlin’?” he drawled and continued advancing, purposefully ignoring her request.
“I think I could try.” She met his stare without flinching, her hazel irises flashing a beautiful grass green. “Are you sure you want to go there? You can’t trick me this time.”
He stepped closer to her, placed one hand on the wall just over her head, and whispered as he bowed over her shorter frame, “You’re surrounded by people who I’m wagering don’t know a damned thing about who or what you are. I’m willing to take the chance.”
“Damn you.” She peered over his shoulder, undoubtedly validating his observation. When she returned her gaze to him, he could see the fury radiating through her thinned lips and furrowed brows. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t be coy, sweetness.” He brought a hand up, slowly brushed his knuckles over the soft swell of her breast, and grinned when she gasped. Her lower lip quivered, and her cheeks turned an alluring shade of crimson. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know exactly why I’m here.”
Muted whispers sounded from behind, and she caved her chest and moved away from his touch, slapping at his hand. “Don’t touch me.”
He arched a brow at her and leaned closer, until his lips were against the shell of her ear. “Funny, the last time were in this position, you were begging me to touch you all over.”
“Bastard,” she snapped, her eyes shimmering with anger and resentment as she arched her neck to glare at him.
She turned then and retrieved clothing from the locker. Her hands were trembling as she stepped away to slide into a pair of green velour pants and a matching cotton camisole. The red bra straps were visible underneath, and for some strange reason, the visual revved him up even more. She kept a distance as she folded her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture.
“Well?” she stated defiantly. “What do you want?”
He smiled, and she met the gesture with another scowl. “Do you really want me to put you over my shoulder and carry you out of here, Mira?” He noted the wince when he used her given name. The whispers at his back intensified, revealing that she had, in fact, been living under the alias of a dead woman as his sources had revealed when he’d finally struck pay dirt and learned where she had settled down.
She shook her head, struggling for words, and reached past him for the purse hanging from the peg inside the locker. As she closed the rectangular metal door with a click, she sighed. “Fine, we’ll do this somewhere else. But I’m not leaving the club with you.”
“Is that so?” he asked in a husky rasp and stepped into her personal space once more.
“Cut the shit,” she hissed and glanced around him again. Stepping closer, she continued, “Let me guess, you want me to track down someone else? Give you the location of some other soul so you can interrogate them for your bullshit agency?” She laughed, shaking her head. “What’s the plan? Seduce me again? Wait until I’m practically pleading for relief before you bring in the big guns?”
His grin vanished, replaced by anger. He forced his temper to cool before he responded. “I have a room upstairs. We’ll talk there.”
“No way.” She stepped back, placing the bulky purse draped over her shoulder between them, her distrust evident. “I will not go to a room willingly with you. I learned my lesson the last time.”
“You will go with me willingly, or I’ll carry you.” He snagged her arm when she tried to move and turned so that his back blocked out the room, preventing anyone from seeing her. “The last time was a misunderstanding that I take full credit for. I reacted impulsively, and you were embarrassed and hurt as a consequence. But I can promise you that the only big gun you’ll meet tonight”—he yanked her close, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her against him, until they were hip to hip and she could feel the hard outline of his notable erection—“will be this one right here, darlin’.”
Despite the anger he could scent, he knew she was also aroused. Her full, berry-colored lips parted, and her pupils dilated wide. He shuddered when she brought her hand up, placed it against his chest, and pushed. Her touch was electric, her nearness heaven. He didn’t bother asking for permission when he swept her off her feet and started walking toward the exit of the room.
Bygones would be bygones. He fucked it up before, but it was time to make amends. Hell or high water, she was his female, and he was not going to exist without her.
Not anymore.
