Sunday Smooch with Amy Andrews

Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch!

Today we have a smooch from Amy Andrews but first 


... the winner of last week's Sunday Smooch Giveaway is Laurie! 

Can you please contact mail (at) helenlacey (dot) com to receive your prize!




And now for today's Sunday Smooch from Tis the Season To Be Kissed. 

A bit of a retro smooch from a release that's 3 years old but as it's approaching Christmas I thought it was entirely appropriate! :-)

Tamara and Luke are snowed in at his family's Vermont cabin for New Years Eve. He's a soldier returning home from his latest stint in the middle-east, she's a romantically unlucky kindy teacher who thinks kissing is a gateway drug and is tipsy on egg nog at 9 in the morning because she doesn't know how to light the fire and her love life is a disatser but hey, at least the booze is keeping her warm.

They're drinking beer, eating Cheetos and playing Scrabble to pass the time and distract themselves form the raging sexual tension because Tamara is sworn off men and Luke is her friend's younger brother and five years might not be much of an age gap but she's at a different stage in her life than him and is only interested in guys ready to commit. Luke suggested strip Scrabble but Tamara is refusing to be drawn. Luke is playing dirty by coming up with every risque word in the dictionary!

Over the next fifteen minutes Tamara struggled to keep the game clean but it was difficult when her opponent seemed to find a suggestive word on his stand every round.

Come, breast, touch and moan were all on the board taunting her. When talk and dirty followed each other in quick succession she glanced at him sharply and the sudden smoulder in his gaze seemed to have leapt directly from the fire. Her throat was parched and she pulled at the material around her neck as the air around her grew thick and sludgy.

“Hot?” he asked and she wasn’t fooled by the innocent inquiry.

Tamara slapped an n next to an o on the board and glared at him as she said, “No.”

“Hey, two letters,” he tisked and she watched as he shook his head back and forth in slow motion. There was a smile in his eyes and he looked so damn sexy she wanted to grab his face and lay one right on his mouth. “That’s no way to build a board.”

Tamara didn’t care. She was hot. Very hot. So help her she wanted to strip all her clothes off and the glint in his eyes told her he knew it.

“I’m still open to strip Scrabble if you want to lose a couple of layers.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your turn.”

Tamara was grateful when he returned his frank gaze to his letters. There was something disconcerting about being with a guy who didn’t appear to give a damn about the consequences. It was hard to keep up the mature responsible act in the face of such devil-may-care attitude.

He seemed to stare for an age at his tiles then he lifted those blue eyes and speared her with a look she was fast coming to recognise as trouble. Her pulse rate trebled as the seconds ticked by.

“Luke?” she prompted. The words felt tight and rough in her Cheeto-dry throat.

“My turn?” he murmured. “Okay.” Then in one swift move he whipped his t-shirt up and over his head.

Tamara stared at him flabbergasted. “Luke,” she squeaked.

The mature responsible thing to do would have been to tell him to get dressed immediately but firelight on acres of broad, tanned chest was too damn distracting and her eyes demanded she take full advantage. 

Her fingers itched to join them.

“Your turn.”

Tamara dragged her gaze back to his face. “Wha...?” she asked trying to clear a heavy fog from her mind and a jettison of oestrogen flooding her belly and rushing to the apex of her thighs.

He smiled at her. “Your turn,” he repeated as if he were talking to someone who’d been a little short-changed in the brains department.

But her gaze had already obeyed the powerful dictates of hormones and was back to warm skin and toned muscles.

“Can’t go?” he prompted. “That’s means I get another move right, if you forfeit?”

Tamara wasn’t capable of responding. In fact she barely heard him as his throat bobbed and beckoned with each word from his mouth, his carotid pulse sure and steady.

Finally she got the vampire thing!

She nodded her head absently because he seemed to be waiting for some response from her but when his gaze fanned across her mouth like the stroke of a feather, everything came back into sharp focus.

“Luke,” she murmured huskily as the carnal intent in his eyes turned them to blue flame.

It was meant as a warning but it came out sounding all breathy and needy. Like a plea. Luke certainly seemed to take it that way because he didn’t back off. Suddenly he was looming closer, breeching the board-width distance between them, his eyes locked on her mouth. Then his hand was sliding up her neck, gliding into her hair, his thumb tilting the angle of her jaw and his sheer masculine focus was utterly paralysing as his lips slowly descended onto hers.

The kiss was light. Tentative. Giving her plenty of room to back away. Which, in those few, lonely, endangered cells that existed in the more evolved area of her brain, she truly appreciated.

Because the rest of her was just pure animal.

She moaned and leaned into the kiss as her deprived system went into complete meltdown and Luke gave it the shot of testosterone she’d been craving. He tasted like beer and Cheetos – a truly intoxicating combination – but those damn insistent cells were yammering at the back of her brain and she dragged herself away before it escalated and they were naked on the rug going at it. 

She was breathing hard, her neck and face flushed as he watched her through those flammable eyes and she savoured the taste of him.

“No?” he queried, his voice soft and faintly burred and it was gratifying when he cleared it, to know he was as affected as she’d been by the kiss.

“Gateway drug,” she murmured desperately clinging to sensibilities that had been well and truly scrambled. She had to remember where she was and who she was with and not let a little horniness overrule common sense. 

Luke was having a hard time pulling himself back from the edge after just a tiny sip at her mouth. He wanted more.

He wanted it now.

And if she thought he was just going to give up on what he already knew could be a pretty great night then she was about to get a lesson in Jackson determination.

“Tamara...let’s not fight this. You’re here, I’m here, its New Year’s Eve, we have a snowed in cabin and a roaring fire. And I know,” he said quickly as she opened that delectable mouth which should still be kissing his but wasn’t because she thought too much, “that we’re different and we want different things out of our life right now. That you’re older than me and you’re my sister’s friend and you want a baby and a husband and the whole white picket fence thing and I’m not looking for any of that.”

He picked up her hand that was lying loosely in her lap and he brought it up to his heart so she could feel its heavy beat.

“I get that, I do,” he continued. “But right now... tonight...isn’t about any of that. It’s just a moment in time when two lonely people get to be there for each other, get to forget about all the crappy stuff that exists outside this cabin, stuff we don’t have a lot of control over and do something about what we do have control over.”

She furrowed her brow, her gaze falling to where his hand covered hers. He could see she was tempted, could feel her reluctance to break the connection that was coursing through her palm into his heart. But she wasn’t quite there yet.

“And how do we act in a few days’ time at Georgia’s birthday party?” she asked huskily.

He shrugged. “I’ll play it whatever way you want,” he smiled. “You want to tell Georgia we met here, that’s fine. You want to tell her we slept together I’m fine with that too. You want to keep it between us I’ll say, pleased to meet you ma’am and you’ll say likewise and only you and I will know we’ve seen each other naked. Because Tamara, I really, really want to see you naked.”

Luke watched her swallow. The pads of her fingers pressed into his chest a little as if she was fighting the urge to grab a handful of pec and haul him closer. And he felt the moment she let go too, the tension draining from her body, her hand becoming slack against his chest.

“Goddamn it,” she muttered, sweeping the board aside with her other hand and launching herself at him. 

 For your chance to win a digital copy of Tis The Season to be Kissed (must have an AMAZON account) tell me, what would be your fantasy Xmas location if money wasn't an issue?

Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's giveaway will be announced and a new smooch will be posted!

Smooch Graphic by WebWeaver

Sunday Smooch with Amy Andrews

Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch!

Today we have a smooch from  Amy Andrews but first 


... the winner of last week's Sunday Smooch Giveaway is Lucy Waterhouse!!!


Can you please contact susannebellamy (at) gmail (dot) com to receive your copy of Engaging the Enemy


And now for today's Sunday Smooch from No More Mr Nice Guy


Amy says - No More Nice Guy has no official blurb or cover just yet and isn't out to September 29th but I couldn't wait to share a snippet of my sexy new Brazen from Entangled Publishing.

I've included a blurb of my own just to give everyone a bit of an idea but the official one will vary when it comes up for pre-order in the next couple of weeks.

Josie Butler is leaving her nice, safe, boring existence in small-town Australia in search of adventure in London. But first she’s spending a couple of weeks with her best friend Sal. Shopping and shoes and Friend’s re-runs – what could possibly go wrong?

One night of too many fruity cocktails and a sex-list later, Josie has her answer. Especially when Mack, Sal’s older brother, discovers the list and thinks it’s hysterical that strait-laced Josie would ever actually go through with it.

Goaded by his disbelief, Josie sets out to prove him wrong with the baddest guy she can find. Only she didn’t bargain on it being Mack. But when Mack shucks off his nice guy image he does it in spectacular fashion and they’re soon blowing through her list and an illustrated sex guide at a rate of knots.

But as Josie’s flight to London looms and their feelings get deeper what started out as a straightforward proposition gets a lot more complicated. 

  
Scene set-up

Josie and Mack have just had their minds blown by a night of very unexpected sex. Sal, Josie's best friend and Mack's sister is, thankfully, oblivious and carries on the morning after as per usual. She's been on at Mack to buy a new bed for ages (he's currently sleeping on a mattress on the floor) and he finally agrees. Sal tries to convince Josie to go with him.

WARNING -  the passage contains use of the F word. Please don't read if that's likely to offend.

Smooch



She looked at Josie speculatively. “What are you doing today? I can’t go with him. I have a small-animal clinic that goes for hours.”

Josie looked at Sal, ignoring the rub of Mack’s thigh. “You want me to go with him?”

“He can’t go by himself. He’ll spend a fortune on something no-frills. Utilitarian. You know what he’s like. All about function rather than style. The man’s got no flair.”

“Mmm,” Josie said. Normally, she’d have agreed with Sal. Mack had a long history of buying expensive, practical, ugly things. But one thing she knew for sure after last night— Mack had flair to burn.

Sal pushed the toast toward her. “The man’s been celibate for six months. He needs a little debauchery in his life.”

Who didn’t need a bit of debauchery in their life? Josie was fast becoming a convert. And God knew Sal could compel anyone to do anything with those expressive blue eyes of hers—she really should have been leading a cult. But Josie didn’t want to seem too eager, either. “Mack’s not going to want his bossy little sister’s friend along for the ride.”

“I don’t mind,” he said cheerfully.

Josie glanced at him. Amusement sparked in his olive green gaze, and she narrowed her eyes slightly to warn him. 

“Sal’s right. I could do with a woman’s perspective. You know…for all the debauchery.”

“Atta boy,” Sal said.

Josie rolled her eyes. But inside, a delighted thrill squirmed from her belly to her throat like a firework launched into the night sky. “Okay.”

“Come on down at twelve. I’ll drive.”

Josie was about to add something else inane, in case Sal could see the giddy jig happening inside her, but her friend suddenly swore under her breath as she checked her watch. “Come on, brother dearest,” she said, taking a gulp of  her coffee. “We’re late.” She shoved half a piece of toast in her mouth as she reached for her bag. “It’s a bit hard to justify when we live upstairs.”

Mack stood, and Josie immediately felt the loss of his nearness. The press of his thigh, the rub of his arm. “Right behind you,” he said. “Just gotta grab something from the bedroom.”

Sal nodded absently as she headed for the door. “You and me,” she threw over her shoulder in Josie’s general direction as she turned the knob. “Tonight. Out.”

“Okay. Sure, if you want. I’ll—” But Sal was already disappearing out the door, and as soon as it clicked shut, Mack was stepping between her thighs and placing his hands either side of her, crowding her back.

“You and me.” He lowered his head until he was growling in her ear. “Tonight. Naked in my bed. F***ing. Begging me for more.”

Everything inside Josie turned to putty. Just the bald statement alone had caused a rush of heat and wet between her legs, and she bit down on her lip to stop the whimper as her senses infused with the smell of Mack. Without a doubt, she’d put Oliver Twist to shame tonight.

And then he kissed her. Hard. Uncompromising. Josie held onto his hips and opened to him. Heat and lust and raw primal need slammed into her belly and squeezed hard. She was never going to last until tonight. She wanted to beg right now. Don’t go to work. Stay here. F*** me now.

He pulled away abruptly and took a pace back, which was probably just as well. Josie’s senses reeled as she dragged air into starved lungs. It was gratifying to see him equally breathless.

“See you at noon,” he said.

And walked out the door.

 

For a chance to win a copy of NMMNG tell me, have you ever kept a secret from a friend that almost killed you? Did that friend ever find out? Were there consequences? 

Amy's promise - although the book isn't out until 29th September, I will ensure the winner receives a digital copy from Amazon on release day! 

Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's giveaway will be announced and a new smooch will be posted!

Smooch Graphic by WebWeaver

Sunday Smooch!

Welcome to another LoveCats DownUnder Sunday Smooch!


Today we have a smooch from  The Goddess, but first ...

the winner of last week's Sunday Smooch Giveaway is -- Lainey4!


Can you please contact Annie West annie (at) annie-west(dot) com to recieve your copy of Captive in the Spotlight.


And now for today's Sunday Smooch from The Goddess by Robyn Grady...

Cover coming soon!

Scene set-up:

Backpacker Helene Masters finds herself in the employ of a prince on an isolated Mediterranean island steeped in mystery. Needing a break from her housekeeper garb, Helene gets creative - cue a fun upsweep and fall of silk held together by a single broach pin.
But with dinner served on the balcony of Prince Darius Vasily's centuries old villa, has Helene under-estimated the power of the moonlight, not to mention the prince's priceless artefact...a figurine that embodies a legend which promises the delights of seduction as well as the consequences of fertility.




Kiss Scene... 

On the balcony, Darius placed the platter between the settings Helene had arranged on the table. Balcony torches were lit. In the middle of seeing to wine, he caught a movement and turned. He almost fumbled the carafe.

A woman stood framed by a high arched doorway, looking for all the world like a Grecian goddess. Her abundance of flaxen hair was swept up in a classic style off the elegant column of her throat. Her dress could tempt a priest to break his vows. The ankle-length silk gown lay draped expertly around her breasts and fell from the high-cinched waist in perfect folds to her dainty, unadorned feet. A glittering, palm-sized pin in the shape of a dolphin secured the fabric at one side while the other shoulder remained delectably bare. He didn’t care where Helene had found that outfit, he was only glad she had.

Blindly he set the carafe down as the vision moved toward him. With each step, the split in her gown parted enough for a tantalizing glimpse of shapely leg to be revealed.

“I found these bits and pieces in a drawer. I guess maids like to dress up, too. I hope no one minds.” She lifted and dropped a bare shoulder. “I was sick of shorts and baggy shirts.”

He tried to speak. Instead he cleared the knot from his throat at the same time she spotted the food.

“You didn’t have to bring that out,” she said, coming nearer.

“I’d have to do more if you weren’t here.”

She popped a plump olive in her mouth but rather than take a seat, she moved to the balcony rail. He followed.

“I like that music,” she said.

“It’s a Cretan lyra.”

“I recognize it. A man sometimes plays one in Alexio’s taverna.” She faced the sea. “I wish I could play an instrument. I’m hopeless at reading those black dots and squiggles. Reading history was always much more fun.” Leaning on the rail, her attention shifted from the view to meet his gaze again. “What did you study in college?”

He’d been examining her profile...pert nose, dimpled chin, the slender slope of her neck. Now he refocused.   

“I went to university in England. Studied business. Economics. History too. The palace library on the main island has some interesting volumes about these parts.”

She nodded but didn’t presume to ask if that was an invitation to inspect the library books firsthand, which was good because, seeing her in this moonlight in that dress, his thoughts were a little scrambled; he might have said yes. He had enjoyed their evenings together, listening to the sea and hearing her chat on about her life in America and how fascinating she found this part of the world.

Darius found her fascinating, and it was more than the outfit. She was easy to talk to. She made him laugh. Helped him relax. He simply liked her being around. If Helene knew, she might blame his interest in her on the goddess and her seductive powers. She was familiar with the legend: should it serve her purpose, the goddess was able to inspire deep, even mindless desire between a couple, particularly here on this island. But he had no intenion of losing his heart...although he had speculated on testing the more physical waters. Tonight, the idea of bringing Helene close was beyond tempting.

She was gazing out over the slopes.

“I recognize the olive trees and pines. And all the fruit trees in the orchard. What kind is that big green one over there?” She nodded at the nearby monster.

“A hickory.” Darius leaned both forearms on the rail. “An early Greek myth surrounds them. The story grew over time but the original version involves a woman named Carya.”

“Who was she?”

“Among other things, Carya was a virgin.”

“Not the sacrificial type, I hope.”  

“Dionysus, son of Apollo, visited King Leon and fell passionately in love with one of his three daughters," he explained.

“Carya.”

He nodded. “Dionysus left the court but when he returned for her, Carya’s sisters tried to stop her from leaving with him. As punishment for their jealousy, he sent the sisters mad. Then he and Carya escaped together. Later, when she died, Dionysus turned his beloved into a tree.”

“Why?”

As Helene gazed out at the hickory, he became more aware of the rise and fall of silk draped over her breasts.

“I suppose a tree can still breathe,” he said. “Can still feel.”

A breeze picked up. Nearby, a torch threw sparks and Helene moved back. To shield her, Darius skirted around to stand close on her other side. Closer than he had been to her before.

“It’s said that when Dionysus and Carya first kissed,” he went on, “all the birds in Greece began to sing.”

The silk of her dress, moved by the breeze, fluttered against her body; every curve and peak beneath was thrown into tantalizing relief. When his gaze met hers again, her eyes were glistening. He tried to read the emotion waiting there. Apprehension?

No.

Anticipation.

“Maybe the birds started singing on this island first,” she whispered.

His hand slid along the rail toward hers. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth before she cast a look out over the surrounding trees again. “All the birds are asleep now though.”

“Perhaps we should wake them.”

“Wake them how?”

His hand scooped around her waist. Bringing her close, he inhaled her lavender scent and murmured, “I’ll show you how.”

As Darius's lips touched hers, and lingered, Helene let her eyes drift shut. A heartbeat later, he drew her closer and she dissolved like a tablespoon of sugar in hot water. One warm palm cupped her nape and gently angled her head. As the kiss created in heaven deepened, Helene leaned in more. But when the hand on the small of her back slid lower, her pulse began to pound in a way that left her reeling.

Out of breath, she broke away.

His mouth found hers again and this time he held her so security against him, every cell in her body seemed to catch fire. Rubbing against the hard span beneath his shirt, her breasts felt so full. Their tips, so sensitive. Through to her core, she was tingling. Everything, everywhere, sizzled and ached for his touch.

Darius’s mouth finally left hers, but his arms remained, iron bands supporting her.

"Listen.” His smile grazed her lips. “The birds are singing now.”

Robyn's giving away a digital copy of The Goddess today. To be in the draw, simply leave a comment and tell us about some mysterious or simply wonderful somewhere you've visited in your life.


Come back next Sunday, when the winner of today's giveaway will be announced -- and a smooch from Anna Campbell will be posted!