CRADLE OF DREAMS, Book 1
WHISPER OF DREAMS, Book 2
SCOUNDREL OF DREAMS, Book 3
"Diablo transported me
back to 1865 with just a few words, and I felt like I was at the ball - and I
wished I was in the library rather than Kendrick." 5 Stars
"If you are looking for something quick, steamy,
romantic and quite enjoyable, you won't go wrong with these three novellas." 5 Stars
"Sizzle, Sizzle. Loved it! The sex scenes are wow, makes you want to be in
them.5 Stars
"What made this a magical story was Roane's
determination to get to the woman he loved and claim her before she was married
to someone else." 5 Stars
Chapter Read from Cradle of Dreams, Book 1
WARNING: HOT! Proceed With Caution
Setup:
Roane has returned from the war to find his lover betrothed to another. At the
Grand Ball, he escorts Kendrick into the library, determined to make her his
forever.
Damn her. Damn Kendrick Moreland
and her lies, her beauty, and for every night he dreamed of coming home to fuck
her senseless. The one thought that kept him going during the war, kept him
sane, was the memory of her exquisite face.
He should have died a thousand
times, like the rest of his men. For some callous reason he had lived. In the
darkest of times, he questioned why he had been spared. Now he knew, and what
perverse irony. He had lived through a bloodbath to watch her marry another.
His deep, sardonic laugh bounced off the library walls.
Kendrick crossed her arms over her chest and
withdrew a step or two. “You’re mad, completely insane and, you’re . . .
frightening me.”
How dare she stand there all pale
and horrified? Her childlike vulnerability increased his desire to protect her
from everything evil. And fuck her. His balls swelled and his cock pushed
against his breeches. He had never wanted anything more in his life than he
wanted her. Be damned with civility, propriety and her reputation. Not a soul
would dare to speak out against his woman. And she would be his woman by the
time they left this room.
Her eyes widened as she stared into
his with fear and expectancy. She wanted him too; he felt it with every beat of
his savage heart. He stalked toward her, lowered his head and captured her
mouth. Devouring her lips was like laying claim to heaven. Velvety smooth, they
moved against his. He didn’t have to force her lips apart to gain what he
sought. The moment he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, she allowed him
access.
Breaking from the kiss, he held her
back from him. “Take off your dress. Do it now before I rip the damn garment
from your body.”
“You’re not serious!”
“Oh, no? I shall count to three. If
you intend to salvage the dress, I suggest you remove it.
Now!”
Her fingers trembled when she slipped
the dress from her shoulders. His mind
screamed: Soon she will be mine; heart, soul, and body. Excruciating pain
shot through him when her foot connected with his groin. Contemplating the feel of his rod inside her,
he had let his guard down, trusted her.
She bolted toward the door,
fumbling with the gown near her shoulders. Despite the pain, Roane lunged
through the air and took her down by an ankle. He couldn’t allow her to walk
from this room. Their bodies tumbled about the rug, her kicking and clawing,
him doing his best to keep her flailing arms from scratching his eyes out. Near
the settee, he managed to haul her to her feet, turn her around and hold her
against him. Her breaths came in pants and a quiet sob escaped.
Long moments passed and neither
spoke. Finally, on a whisper her words reached him. “I can’t reach the
buttons.”
He did the honors for her, taking
his time to savor her creamy shoulders and the delicate bones of her spine. He
couldn’t wait to possess her, yet the goddess of his dreams infuriated him. The
stubborn woman wasn’t the type to answer to a man’s whims or demands. He should
have anticipated she would fight him, although she wanted him as much as he
wanted her. He would wager his grandmother’s best pearls that underneath the
obdurate façade a fiery siren lived.
When he finished unbuttoning her
dress, he dragged her against him. Holding her by the shoulders he whispered in
her ear, “Finish taking it off and step out of it.”
Her body shivered and he exalted in
her subtle tremble of desire. Removing a hand from one shoulder, he ran it
through her hair, loosening the pins. Long, honey-colored curls tumbled free
and cascaded down her back in a veil of gossamer silk. She stepped out of the
dress and shuffled it aside with her feet.
“The corset and pantalets. Remove
them, along with any other foolish undergarments. I want you naked in my arms.”
“Please, Roane,” she whimpered.
“Anyone could enter―”
“Remove them or I’ll rip them off
you.”
With a sob, she rolled the
pantalets down her slender hips and set about removing the laced corset.
Moments later, the garments joined her cast-aside dress.
“You should always be naked in my
arms, beauty.” His fingers found her nipple. With a tweak, he whispered,
“Naked, willing and burning for me.”
Her knees buckled beneath her and
her head lolled on his chest. “I can’t . . . can’t continue―”
His arm tightened about her and he
jerked her upright. “Tell me, Kendrick, does Fleming drive you wild with
desire?”
She shook her head.
Roane cupped a swollen breast and
rolled her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Does he fondle you;
tug at your nipple like this until your cunt throbs with need? Or does he
suckle you to get you wet?”
A low moan escaped her lips on the heels of
his words, “Never.”
Roane’s hand slid from her breast
to her abdomen, and lower still to the soft mound of curls between her thighs.
He found her nub and rubbed until her head thrashed against his chest. “Did
Pitt ever take you to his bed? Have you ever spread your legs for him so he
could slip inside your hot, wet folds?”
She panted through her answer.
“Please stop, I’m about-about to be married to another.
I-I gave my word.”
“Answer the question, Kendrick.
Tell me the truth.”
“No, oh, God, please stop, Roane.”
An animal-like whimper escaped her
lips when he slipped a finger inside her. Still holding her around the waist
with one arm, he thrust deep, eliciting a series of groans from her throat.
“You little hypocrite, you don’t want me to stop, you and I both know it. Admit
you want me to shove my cock deep inside you.”
“No, no, I don’t,” she said on a
pained moan. “I’m going to-to marry Pitt.”
“Over my dead body,” he ground out
between clenched teeth.
Her scent overwhelmed him, a mingling of lemon
and her arousal. Her mass of hair against his lips felt like the finest of
silks. He had to stop or soon he would be spending like a pubescent schoolboy.
It infuriated him she held such power over him. If he didn’t cease this game of
cat and mouse, it would be over before he wrenched the truth from her. The
thought of Pitt Fleming even touching her perfect skin, running his hands over
her naked flesh crippled him with jealousy.
He withdrew his finger and spun her
around, so fast her head jerked back. With his hands on her shoulders, he
pushed her to her knees and pulled his engorged cock from his trousers. His
balls felt heavier than lead and his staff looked irate, perhaps because it had
been denied such exquisite pleasure thus far.
His breaths coming in pants, he
placed his swollen member to her lips. “Did your dandy Pitt ever ask you to
suck his cock?”
A small cry left her lips and she
dropped back, but not before Roane grabbed a shock of her hair and forced her
mouth toward his shaft again. “Never would he ask me to-to suck on his . . . .”
“But you want to suck my cock,
don’t you, Kendrick? You want to take it into your mouth and taste me, suck me
dry, don’t you?”
* * * * *
When a
tragic accident claims her husband's life, Jesse Santos must find a way to keep
the ranch, the only home her 12-year-old son has ever known. The ranch hands have abandoned her, a gang of
cutthroat ranchers want her land and an ancient Yaqui Indian insists a spirit
has taken up residence in the house.
