Archive for the ‘New Release’ Category

(cross-posted from my personal blog)

So July is a month that I always expect lots and lots of presents. My birthday… and my anniversary is also this month. I always expect to score, big. Yes. I am materialistic. I admit this…I own this.

But this year, I’m actually going to give away a pressie.

I Thought It Was You

I Thought It Was You

Grimm’s Circle, Book 2.5

The events of this free short story take place between the events of No Prince Charming and Ren’s story, Crazed Hearts. It turns out both Ren and Elle had some loose ends they needed to tie up…and that’s what this story is about. It’s not Ren’s happy ever after. That’s in Crazed Hearts.

This story is available for free via download @ Samhain Publishing, and I think will also be at places like Amazon, via the Kindle, BN via the Nook, etc. It’s just a short story, but it tied up some loose ends Ren had.

You don’t need to read it before you get his story… but hey, he’s so much fun to write. Maybe he’s fun to read, too.

Wanna read it? Here ya go…have at it!

And now… Ren’s story.

FYI… I adored Ren. And noooooo. I’m not telling you who he is. You’ll need to read it to find out.

And when you’re done… NO SPOILERS!!!!

Crazed Hearts

Crazed Hearts

He’s no fairy-tale prince. But he just may be the hero she needs.

Grimm’s Circle, Book 3

Ren has always danced along the fine line between being a little bit crazy and being overcome by a darkness that’s haunted him since his mortal days. As an empath, he prefers to live far from people who would leak their emotions all over him, so he’s not expecting the woman who drives right into the heart of his wood. She has a cursed book with her and demons hot on her heels. Even more surprising are her abilities and the reaction Ren has to her.

Aileas is on the run. She just isn’t certain if she’s running from something real or imagined. One thing is for sure, her brother is dead and she’s certain the book she found has something to do with his death. She really starts to doubt her sanity when she meets a hot but somewhat crazed man in the middle of nowhere.

He calls himself Ren, and although he doesn’t seem to be out to hurt her, he definitely seems to want something. She just doesn’t understand what. She does know what she wants though. She wants him, and the shadows and darkness she glimpses inside him don’t matter. At least, right up until he claims to be a guardian angel.

And she thought she was going crazy.

An excerpt…

Crazed Hearts

“Where in the hell did you come from?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I was out hiking,” he said, gesturing toward the hill. He lifted a hand and whistled. “Me and my sister.”

Mandy peered down at him from the top of the incline a minute later. He could see the disgust in her eyes and if he wasn’t so disturbed by the ever-darkening ripples he could feel moving through the air, he might have been amused by the silent fuck-you he saw in Mandy’s eyes.

“Your sister. Hiking.”


She started to back away, eyeing him like he’d grown an extra head and razor sharp teeth. Ren acted like he didn’t notice, but he mentally commanded Pan and the dog obediently padded forward and placed his bulk in front of the door of the car. She couldn’t go traipsing off. Somehow she was in this mess up to her pretty neck, which meant she was in danger. He couldn’t have that, even if he wasn’t feeling strangely, almost insanely protective of her.

“Why would you hike around here?”

Now that he could answer.

“Oh, because I live around here, that’s why.” He flashed her a grin, tried to temper down the raging maniacal edge and pretend to be friendly, perhaps even charming. Did he remember charming? No. He was quite sure he didn’t. He didn’t know if he’d ever known charming. Well, other than a prince, of course. Still, he really didn’t want to show the crazier side of his nature. He needed to keep that under wraps.

“Just over the rise, a few miles down.”

Up said rise, Mandy was swearing as she started to make her way down. Tripping, too and not particularly happy. But as she moved to the busted, uneven road, she fell silent, picking up on something.

The mortal wouldn’t pick up on Mandy’s tension, but Ren had spent months with Mandy and he knew her well.

Well enough at least.

The look in her eyes was one of fear…and resignation.

She was staring not at the woman though.

She was staring just past her, at the car.

Ren shifted his gaze, focused on the car.

Yes…there. There it was, he realized. He lowered his shields, and that was when he sensed what Mandy had sensed.

That black, nasty vibe.

Something shuddered, twisted from the car.

Could a whisper have a stench, a feel? Could it make the air quake and wrench around you?

It seemed so.

“What have we here,” he mused, narrowing his eyes.

The whispers grew louder—an ocean of them. They flooded his mind, flooded his soul.

The darkness… It was all but reaching for the woman, trying to wrap itself around her like a boa constrictor.

Like hell, Ren thought.

He extended his gift, touched one of the distant minds in his territory. It was a bear cub, perched high in a tree and trembling, shaking. There was a smell in the air the cub didn’t like and

Ren understood why.

There was a car drawing closer to them that had some unpleasant bastards in it. They looked human on the outside, but that was it. Soul-sucking monsters. Orin. They fed on souls, stank of death and evil.

He watched through the cub’s eyes for a moment and then returned to himself.

“Holy fuck.”

Reaching up, he touched the leather band he wore around his wrist. It held a silver medallion in it. Under his touch, it pulsed once with an answering warmth, but he didn’t know if that was any sort of reply. Two women with him, and his animals. One of the tomes.

And it seemed this woman had orin trailing after her. Either her, or the book. Perhaps both. Ren wasn’t sure and there was no way for him to know. The minds of the orin were too alien for him to connect with, and they had nothing that even remotely resembled human emotion.

It made his skin crawl to think they might be after her directly.

They can’t have you, he thought, his mind teetering dangerously close to that dark, dark edge. Too close.

What in the hell? He pulled himself back under control.

He needed to focus, needed to think. Needed to get these two women someplace far safer than here. Back to his home. They’d be safe there and he could deal with this mess. Then he could figure out what was going on with—

Later. Problems now, woman later, Ren.

So…you want? Go buy…

And to head the question off….this will come out in print, but it’s probably about a year down the road. It’s not long enough on it’s own, so it will be paired up with Grimm Book 4, Tarnished Knight, which won’t be out until October-so, the print release will be at least 6 months after that. Spring or summer at the soonest… sorry!



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Hunter's Need

I’ve posted the first chapter in its entirety at Scribd. You can read it here.

On Wednesday, 12/2, there’s a launch party @ bitten by books and you can enter to win book $$$.

Here’s one last, little excerpt from Hunter’s Need, and I’ve gotta admit…it’s one of my favorite scenes.


“I gave you your answer, Ana. Can’t you answer mine?”

I love you. She wanted to tell him, wanted to throw her arms around his neck and tell him, over and over. But she held back. This wasn’t right. Wasn’t good, not for him. Even back when she let herself daydream about having Duke in her life, she’d known it wasn’t right. Duke deserved better than her. He deserved so much more.

“This isn’t good for you.” She blurted the words out before she lost her nerve. Pulling away from him, she jerked her shirt back up but her hands shook too much to button it. Instead, she just held it closed between her breasts. “This is bad for you. I’m bad for you. You’ve got to know that. Even if you…even if you think you feel how you’re saying, you have to know I’m bad for you. I’m not the kind of woman you need in your life, Duke. I’m not strong enough. You need somebody strong. Somebody more like you—”

Duke reached out and hooked his hand in the front of her jeans, gently. She resisted. He jerked harder and she crashed into his chest with a startled, “Ooommph.”

“I know what I need,” he growled. When she would have argued, he covered her lips with his finger. “I know what I want, what I need. And it’s you, Ana. If I wanted somebody like me, I would have gone chasing after Kendall or half a dozen other women that I’ve met. I didn’t go after them, because I was too hung up on you and I have been, from the first damn time I laid eyes on you. I love you. I want you. I need you.”


He cut her words off with a hard, short kiss. “Don’t want to hear it,” he snarled. “I love you. You don’t get the right to tell me what I need, or what I deserve. That’s my call, princess. Now give me an answer—do you love me?”


If you’ve enjoyed the snippets, I hope you’ll pick it up…either at your local indie store, local bookstore… wherever. :o)

Want to order?







I’m doing a few signings to for the release… if you live in or near the area, would love to meet you!




Oxmoor Center

7900 Shelbyville Rd

Louisville, KY

* * * * *




604 East Spring Street

New Albany, IN

* * * * *

Barnes & Noble



9455 Civic Centre Blvd

West Chester, OH

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Want an excerpt?  of course, if you just want to buy… *G*

Candy Houses
Candy Houses


So you think you know fairy tales? Guess again.

Grimm’s Circle, Book 1

Greta didn’t get her happy ending her first time around. And now that she’s a Grimm—special kind of guardian angel and official ass-kicker in the paranormal world—romance is hard to find. Besides, there’s only ever been one man who made her heart race, and the fact that he did scared her right out of his arms. Now Rip is back. And just in time too, because Greta needs his help.

On a mission he knows is going to test all of his strengths and skills, the last person Rip expected to see is the one woman who broke his heart. Working together seems to be their only hope. But, when faced with a danger neither of them anticipated, the question is, how will they face the danger to their hearts—assuming they survive, of course.


It came at me, a silent rush of death. At the very last second, I spun out of the way and felt the blast of air as it swiped out at where I’d stood only a heartbeat earlier. The thing’s hands ended in claws that measured close to three inches long.

The skin along the back of my neck prickled as I once more started to circle away from the bocan, weaving around it in nonsensical patterns. It made another rush and this time, instead of moving aside, I went down and sliced upward. Black, bitter blood covered me as I managed to break skin. It shuddered, but I figured out very quickly that while I’d hurt the demon, I hadn’t slowed it down. It slashed out as I scrambled away. Those claws got closer that time.

And then again. This time it caught me. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as the claws managed to get me in the belly, slicing me open. Blood flowed.


A hand came out of nowhere and grabbed me, hauling me aside.

Dazed, I fell against the crumbled rock wall at my back and watched. I was in a state of shock, I think. I didn’t recognize the man at first…well, not consciously. My body probably would have, if I hadn’t been losing huge quantities of blood through the gashes in my belly. I whimpered and shrugged out of the blood-soaked jacket I wore and balled it up, pressing it to my wounded stomach.

The flesh was already knitting back together. I could literally feel it, deep, deep inside. It was a bad injury. If I was still wholly human, I’d be dead already. As it was, I was losing a lot of blood. Even us pseudo-immortals get weak when we lose too much blood.

Sinking to the ground, I watched as the man fought the bocan.

He was a lot more equipped to handle the thing than I was, that was for sure. The bocan tried to gut him with those lethal claws but the man moved away, quick as a wish. I saw one hand disappear inside the long coat he wore—something about that coat, the way it stretched over his shoulders, tickled a memory. I wouldn’t look at his face. Thinking about it now, I know why I wouldn’t look, because I knew in my heart who he was, and I needed to prepare myself a little bit more before I actually looked at him.

Instead, I focused on his hands…and on the very awesome weapon he’d drawn from inside that long, black coat. It was a black cylinder, maybe two, two and a half feet long. Yeah, I know, that doesn’t sound too flashy. It would do some serious damage to a human, probably even a number of manifested demons.

But a nine-foot-tall bocan?

Nope. Right up until he twisted it, I wasn’t impressed. But then he twisted it. I heard the whisper of metal as two edged blades appeared, one out either end of the metal cylinder.

Now it was five feet long, and bladed on both ends.

He used it like an artist. He moved like a dancer of death. The silver flashed through the air. His body barely seemed to touch the ground before he was moving off again. Eerie, deadly and oh so lovely to look at. In a rather morbid way, of course.

Black blood stained the metal as he sliced through the bocan’s scales.

The bocan hissed.

The man just laughed. That laugh. I knew that laugh.


Just before I passed out, I finally let myself look at him. I found myself staring at his familiar profile. An ache settled in my heart and it followed me as I went under.


Rip had problems.

He had all sorts of problems. He had one dead demon on his hands. He had one unconscious, young adult female on his hands. He had one unconscious, not-so-young adult female on his hands—and she was injured.

His body screamed at him as he crouched beside Greta. Along his left arm, he had a series of gashes, three of them, each one of them a good seven inches long and deep. Very deep, because they weren’t healing fast. The bocan had managed to tear into his muscle, and the muscles had to knit together before the skin could. So he was still bleeding.

But not as bad as Greta.

She was pale, even paler than normal. That milky, fair complexion was ghostly and even though he knew she couldn’t die from the injury she’d taken, his heart skipped a few beats and then took up residence in his throat. To reassure himself, he laid a hand on her neck, felt the warmth and the life of her.

It didn’t help much.

He was going to relive the night’s events a thousand times over in the years to come—the nightmare of seeing the bocan come this close to gutting her, and he had been too far away to do a damn thing.

What were you thinking?

She had faced down a bocan with pretty much her bare hands. She’d had a knife. A paltry blade in her right fist as she’d circled around the demon. Bocans were too fucking big, too fucking strong, and that hide of theirs was like armor. Knives just didn’t cut it.

He shot the dead creature a nasty look and wondered where in the hell it had come from. Bocans were uncommon in the world because they didn’t have the abilities a lot of other demons had—they couldn’t manifest, couldn’t possess. They just killed.

A bocan. The paraisei he’d faced earlier. Something weird was going on. Demonkind didn’t ever gather together in one place for long—it attracted too much attention, the sort of attention that ended up them being sent back to the netherplains.

What in the hell was going on?

Greta shifted under his hands. Under her breath, she whimpered quietly and Rip, without even thinking about it, bent over her and pressed his lips to her brow. “Hush, angel. You’re safe now…you’re safe. Sleep…heal.”

His heart broke a little as she burrowed close to him.

buy (looks like it’s live at Samhain’s store front now)

If you have an Amazon kindle, you can preorder now.

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I feel ‘official’. 😉 Two of my EC/Pocket novellas have been repackaged and reissued…aka shuffled around and put with a couple of different stories. The books came out recently, one on 8/11, the other in July.

The Hottie Next Store contains my novella, Good Girls Don’t.

Good Things Come in Threes contains my novella, Voyeur.

And if you wanna buy, I’m all for that.


<p style=”text-align:center;”><img class=”alignnone” src=”http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/38540000/38549514.JPG&#8221; alt=”” width=”124″ height=”193″ /> <img class=”alignnone” src=”http://images.barnesandnoble.com/images/38040000/38049523.JPG&#8221; alt=”” width=”124″ height=”193″ /></p>
<p style=”text-align:center;”><em><span style=”color:#003366;”> </span></em></p>

<li><a href=”http://www.tkqlhce.com/click-3188022-10568661?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.borders.com%2Fonline%2Fstore%2FSearchResults%3Fkeyword%3Dshiloh%2Bwalker%26type%3D0%26simple%3D1&amp;cm_mmc=CJ-_-2506746-_-3188022-_-88×31%20logo&#8221; target=”_blank”>Borders</a></li>
<li><a href=”http://www.amazon.com/gp/search?ie=UTF8&amp;keywords=Shiloh%20Walker&amp;tag=shilwalk-20&amp;index=books&amp;linkCode=ur2&amp;camp=1789&amp;creative=9325&#8243; target=”_blank”>Amazon</a></li>
<li><a href=”http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/results.asp?ATH=Shiloh+Walker&#8221; target=”_blank”>BN.com</a></li>
<li><a href=”http://www.tkqlhce.com/click-3188022-1168850?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.booksamillion.com%2Fsearch%3Fid%3D4234121271200%26query%3Dshiloh%2Bwalker%26where%3DAll%26search.x%3D0%26search.y%3D0%26search%3DSearch&#8221; target=”_blank”>Bamm.com</a></li>
<li><a href=”http://www.powells.com/s?kw=Walker+Shiloh&amp;PID=32904&#8243; target=”_blank”>Powell’s</a></li>


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Okay, now I’m gonna say right up front, this book really put my short story skills to the test. When I was asked to write a short vamp story, short as in 6000-8000 words, I was thinking…uh, man…can I do that?

Novellas, I can do. The occasional quickie 12-15k, I can do. But 6000-8000? Not so easy. I managed, though. How well I managed…eh, I’ll leave that up to the readers.

Hunter’s Choice, my story in this collection, as some of you probably guessed is set in the Hunters world.

A short excerpt is below, and I believe the anthology releases in the States in late July or August. FYI, some of you might notice different covers…the book was originally released by a UK publisher so the UK and the US versions have different covers.


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Here’s an excerpt…

Her body ached.

It wasn’t anything new. Although Lee was only twenty eight years old, she already felt ancient. Exhausted even upon awakening,with stiff aching joints, and bruises that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Lee slowly flexed her muscles and tried to hold together the fragile wisps of the dream. But as always, it faded away, out of reach, out of mind. He faded away.

She didn’t know his face. But each night he came to her. Each night, they found each other again. He would look at her with eyes that made her burn and want and wish and for that brief period of time, she felt whole, complete and that sensation lingered with her as she drifted from sleep into awareness, but the minute she opened her eyes, all memory of her dreams started to fade. All that remained was an ache in her chest, a knot inher throat and a body that felt as though somebody had tried to beat her death.

Today, the ache was worse. The memories were fading fast although she tried to hold onto them. Like smoke, though, they faded away even as she grabbed the notepad by her bed and started to scrawl down what little she remembered. She didn’t look down while she wrote—instead she clenched her eyes tightly shut and focused on him. Even if she couldn’t remember his face, she could remember how he made her feel inside. Focusing on that instead of trying to recall the dream made the words flow easier.

Blood. Screams. Smoke. The cries of the wounded. Ugly snarls and fetid breath. People clamored around her and they had needs that she couldn’t even begin to understand. And him—

Always him. Everything seemed to revolve around him and everything inside of her yearned for him. As much as Lee dreaded closing her eyes and facing the weird dreams that assaulted her while she slept, she yearned for them as well. Because her dreams led her to him. He would make her laugh, even when the dreamswere dark as death. There was a warmth in his presence that filled an empty ache.

But not this past night. There had been distance, anger, and disgust. He’d yelled at her. His fury had been so great even now she felt chilled with it.

She opened her eyes and stared at the notepad in front of her. She hadn’t just written words. She’d sketched out faces of people she’d never met and monsters the likes of which she’d never seen.

She stared at each of the faces she’d drawn, studying their features for something that would trigger her memories again. The notebook was filled with sketches and none of them meant anything to her. Allof them set against twisted, scarred landscapes.

Some of them appeared more than others, like the old woman and the two guys. Even on paper, the woman’s smile had a decidedly mischievous bent to it, as though she was laughing and Lee had no idea why. The men were polar opposites, one pale, one dark. One looked like an angel and the other had the devil’s smile. Both of them were enough to make a girl’s heart skip a beat but if the man she dreamed of was one of them, she didn’t know which one he was.

Furious with herself, Lee hurled the pad of paper across the room and watched as it hit the wall. It slid to the ground, several of the pages bent and crumpled. With a scowl, she climbed out of the bed and stalked to the bathroom.

“He isn’t real,” she told herself as she turned the hot water on full before turning to tug off her t-shirt. “He isn’t real.” He’s not, her mind insisted, even though something inside her heart argued.

Her reflection caught her eye and she stilled, fighting the impulse to turn and look. Damn it, she was going to take all the mirrors down. She couldn’t not look, when the mirrors were there.

But every time she saw a bruise, a chill ran through her. It was no different this time. Her eye was black, swollen, raw looking it. It had been fine last night. And today,she looked like she had a bruise that had been healing for days. Her mouth trembled as she tried to make sense of what she was looking at.

The doctors had tried to tell her she was doing it to herself. They had even done a sleepstudy, and watched her all night long to determine what caused the bruising.

The study had revealed nothing. And everything.

For when she walked out of the room where they had monitored her body all night, her ankle was swollen, twisted and discolored. It had been fine the night before.

The tape of the study had shown her laying quietly on the narrow bunk, never once rising in the night. She didn’t toss. She didn’t turn. The only weird thing was a blip in the middle of the tape that lasted no more than a few eye blinks. For that brief span of time, the bed was empty. But she hadn’t gotten out of thebed. The probes and lines weren’t long enough to allow her to leave it without one of the attendants disconnecting them. They hadn’t done it.

Odder still, an attendant had been in the room during theblip. They could see him at the edge ofthe screen. But he’d never seen her move. She hadn’t done any more studies after that. Even though the doctors tried to urge her to agree, it had simply unsettled her too much. So no more studies. She’d just deal with looking like the loser of a boxing match.

Lee leaned forward and probed her eye, touching it gently,wincing at the tender flesh she encountered under her fingers. The eye itself looked fine, which was a relief. There had been one morning when she woke up and her pupil had been blown. Her vision had been blurred and the sickening pain made her think she had a concussion. By nightfall, though, the pupil had returned to normal and her vision was fine.

Today, her eyes seemed a little more bloodshot than usual and the red looked unnaturally bright against the nasty mottled blue. Almost festive, the red, white and blue.

There was another bruise on her knee, like she had fallen down. The flesh was sensitive and each step she took sent pain shooting through her knee. Much as the knee hurt, it was actually a rather light night. Lee knew from experience, though, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Light nights seemed to be followed by bad ones.

Her gut churned as that thought circled through her head. Bad ones came with concussions,broken bones—even burns. It had been awhile since she’d had a real bad night and it was like a little mental clock was ticking away the time. It wouldn’t be much longer before she woke up one morning hurt so bad that she’d wish for death, just to get away from the pain.

Even if she did heal fast, pain was still pain and she was tired of feeling so much of it.

“Morbid, much?” she muttered as she turned away from her reflection. She climbed into the shower with one goal in mind. Shower…then caffeine. With caffeine, she could face almost anything.

* * * * *

Through the Veil, Kalen could see her. Stubborn little bitch. He could still just faintly smell the sweet scent of her skin and his hands still itched to feel that satiny skin under his hands, to feel the silk of her hair brush against his body. The vivid bruise on her face infuriated him,even though her rapid ability to heal was already lessening the vivid color and the swelling.

The demon that had attacked her was dead. Dust in the wind. Not that Kalen had anything to do with it. Lee had taken damn good care of it herself. She was good at that. Always had been. Scowling, he wondered if maybe she was a little too good at it. Good at taking care of herself, good at rationalizing away problems, good at everything.

Clenching his jaw, he turned away from the Veil and prepared himself to face the coming day without her. It was a frightening thought. But it always had been. One never knew what the day might bring. Not in this world.

There had been another demon attack, this time high up in the mountains, striking the small settlement of families living there. They had refused to come down into the valley. Too close to the Roinan Gate. It was as if they thought a few miles would protect them. They had been wrong, terribly wrong and Kalen had to live with the guilt of not trying harder.

Raviners had killed the few men and taken their time with the women and children. It brought back memories too ugly for him to dwell on, staring at the their remains. He couldn’t even take a little bit of comfort in knowing that his men had slaughtered the Raviners. If he had taken them down himself, filling their bodies with the dangerous power of the pulsar he carried at his hip, it wouldn’t have been any comfort.

They were losing a little more ground every day. The demons were breeding in his world now and they didn’t just have to wait for the Roinan Gate to open for more of their numbers. There had been a time when finding a clutch of demons had been a rare occurrence and they were killed quickly, if not always easily.

They might have a ghost of a chance if they could shut down the fucking Gate.


You can read a Dear Reader letter & a nice long excerpt here at Berkley’s site.

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Someone wants a secret to stay buried-even if it means murder.

Since waking up in a hospital at age eighteen, accused of driving the car that killed his best friend, Jazz McNeil has lived with a guilty heart. Now, more than a decade later, he has returned to his hometown to raise his daughter and to uncover the truth about what happened that fateful summer. And gaze into the eyes of the girl whose life he shattered.

Though Anne-Marie Kincaid was told that Jazz was responsible for her brother’s death all those years ago, she has never quite believed it. The facts don’t quite fit; they never did. All she knows is, she still feels loved and safe when she’s with Jazz, and that he misses her brother just as much as she.

This novel has been previously published, but has been revised and expanded.

You can buy it here!

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For those who read it when it was at Triskelion, this version hasbeen revised a lot, expanded some. Basically, I cleaned the book up.

For those who read it when it was at Triskelion, this version has
been revised a lot, expanded some. Basically, I cleaned the book up.

Dylan was having sweet dreams.

Very sweet dreams.

There had been one time…only once, but it had been close enough for
him to pretend there was something in Kris’s eyes beside aloofness.

And now…he was dreaming of that time, at a picnic, Labor Day weekend,
at Nikki’s cabin, when it started pouring down rain and they were
caught under the trees by the lake, waiting for the rain to let up.

Either that or make a dash for it.

Her eyes had met his and lingered…just for a minute, before drifting
down to his chest, wet from the rain, and he had been studying the
front of her T-shirt. “I didn’t know rich girls wore T-shirts,” he

“Well, I gave the maid a few days off and I haven’t done laundry,
slick,” she said, lifting a brow at him before returning her gaze
back to the rain and sighing, a movement that made that miraculous
chest rise and fall, drawing his attention to her hard, pebbled
little nipples.

“Gasp…you know the `L’ word?”

“Bite me,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He surprised her when he crossed the grass and asked softly, “Can I?

Her lids flickered and he watched as her tongue slid out, wetting her
lips. “It’s a saying, babe. You know, a sarcastic one, basically
telling you to—”

The rest of her words were muffled against his mouth as he lowered
his head and pressed his lips against her petal soft mouth, very
curious to see how she would taste. Damn, he’d been dying for a
taste for years. And the heat and the sun and a couple of beers,
watching her all day was enough to weaken his resolve.

And that was where the dream differed from reality. In his bed,
Dylan rolled onto his back, his hand resting on his belly, while in
his dream, his hands came in framed her face, holding her still. In
reality, her lips had parted under his for a second, one sweet, brief
second…and then the moment had been ruined as thunder cracked and the
wind started to whip around them.

But in his dream…he backed her up against the tree and he never even
questioned how it somehow became a bed. Or how her jean shorts and
damp shirt were replaced by black silk. Clichéd, maybe, but there
was something about a long, slim woman wearing black silk.

Just as he was peeling the black silk off of her…her lips parted—
ringing erupted from them.

His eyes flew open on a vicious curse and Dylan jackknifed out of
bed, wide-awake and hornier than hell. He grabbed the pager and
stared at the unknown number. Unknown, no emergency code, so he
tossed the pager down and rolled over, going back to sleep.

And it had actually been a sweet dream, almost—it almost felt real.
One day, he’d love to have that kiss followed by something more than
his dreams.

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