April Fool's Day is just around the corner. Here's a taste of a couple of the books you can get your hands on through the Lusty Linguists and their twisted senses of humor.
When The Lights Go Out
An April Fools For Love Story
© 2015 Roxy Mews
Named after the date of her conception, April Prime was used to hiding away and avoiding the world on April Fools’ Day. Or at the very least, avoiding her parents who tended to celebrate the holiday very differently from the rest of the world.
This year would be different. This year she closed on a home, and was taking control of her life. A few hiccups had her headed to an office supply store in search of moving supplies. Crashing through a bathroom door, she stumbled on a bit more than she expected when mister tall, dark, and indisposed was already using the facilities.
Taylor James was stuck being the brunt of yet another round of April Fools’ pranks. One of them being a change of the bathroom door signs. He went to work knowing he’d have to navigate a mine field. What he didn’t expect was a woman bursting in on him only to send his head spinning.
Despite the scenery, April is ready to make a red-faced retreat. That’s when a car crash knocks out the power to everything inside the store, including the electronic locks.
By the glow of the emergency flood light the two realize they may be stuck for a long while. April and Taylor could wait out the inconvenience in silence, or they could capture a moment together, and just maybe find something special when the lights go out.
Warning: Sex in the dark may lead to orgasms and head injury.
Enjoy the following excerpt from When the Lights Go Out:
“Want to know why I hate April Fools’ Day?” she asked.
“If you can top being glued to the toilet seat and getting assaulted by a bucket of bouncy balls before coffee, have at it.”
“My parents conceived me on April Fools’ Day.”
“Why do you know that?” He couldn’t imagine having knowledge of his conception from his own parents.
“They named me after it.” She sighed. “My first name’s April, all right? It’s their favorite funny story. They told it to everyone. Every date I took home. Every friend I invited over. And mind you, my very first birthday sleepover they told all the girls in my second grade class, that they had sex on this very night eight years and nine months ago.”
“Thinking of your parents having sex every time someone says your name? Okay, you win.” Taylor couldn’t stop laughing. “I do know your first name now. Wonder if I’ll get your last name out of you before we’re rescued.”
“Not a chance, mister. You’re not getting any more out of me. We’re having an intimate conversation between strangers.”
He heard some crinkling.
“What is that?” he asked the blackness. Her mother had slipped two things under that door. One was food, the other… He opened his eyes further to try and process.
“I got hungry,” she said around a bite of the granola bar. “Don’t worry. I’ll share.”
Taylor wasn’t sure what she was sharing, but he damn sure wasn’t thinking about food when her hand crept higher.
Without his sight, the touch had every nerve in his body going off like a strobe light in the darkness. The hand that touched him was small, but definitely not shy. She pressed at the midpoint of his thigh as she shifted her weight and adjusted, so her knees were no longer touching his.
She pressed the half empty wrapper against his abdomen. She walked her fingers up his chest. His heart pounded as her digits tickled his nipple while they slid past.
He would have said something, but he wasn’t sure the sounds he made would be at all appropriate, and they might’ve been past that point now anyway. Her fingers continued up his neck and then traced along the line of his jaw. Even though it made no difference in the amount of light, Taylor felt his eyes close. He kept silent and he felt his face go lax with pleasure. Whether he should or not, he enjoyed her touch. For once he wasn’t worried about if the woman was marriage material or if she would be able to put up with his schedule. He wasn’t thinking about any of that. In the dark, he didn’t even have to worry about how she was reacting, because he couldn’t see. It was all about how she made him feel, and he felt alive.
Then her fingers found his lips. His suddenly dry lips. Without thinking, his tongue darted out to wet them, but he ended up licking her finger instead.
“Oh.”
© 2016 Mary Hughes
Coming SOON in an Exclusive Amazon Bundle
With Drakon Press
With Drakon Press
From award-winning bestselling author Mary Hughes comes a fairytale romance with a twist.
THE WRONGED DAUGHTER
Cinderella hungers to escape from under Widow Wikkid's grinding thumb. But to snare a plum job at Prince Industries, Cin desperately needs her degree, and she can't wrap her mind around tax accounting.
Then scarred but sexy Rafe Montoya ignites her imagination with his brilliant tutoring—and, as they work together in his cozy apartment, he sets her body on fire. She thinks he's the one for her, until he starts pushing her to attend Gideon Prince's marriage-mart ball.
THE HANDSOME PRINCE
Rafe is really Gideon Prince, head of Prince Industries. He must name his bride by his April first birthday or suffer the loss of his family fortune.
Rumors say he's still single because women love his money and looks, not him. Is he lonely or just another duplicitous tycoon?
THE GLASS SLIPPER TEST
Hopefuls flock to Prince's birthday ball, but only the woman who is kind, wise, and generous will win his heart. Is it Cin, or will her stepmother, as she always does, snatch the prize for her own daughters?
And on the night of the ball, when Cin discovers Rafe’s true identity, can she even accept his final test?
Warning: Rags-to-riches fairytale meets the texting generation. Stepsisters who are a blush-brush shy of a full makeup set, and a ball gown built like a tank. Contains material intended for mature audiences. Reader discretion advised.
Enjoy the following excerpt from Cin Wikkid:
Cin has been chatting online with tutor Rafe for about a month.
An odd delay made her frown before another text bubbled up from him.
—I have a picture, too.—
The single line looked strangely vulnerable.
—Cool.— She wondered what he had for her. Another picture of Snoopy? An image of a sleek coupe?
Or a video?
Her heart beat harder in memory. Last week he’d shared a clip, proudly showing her he could do twenty-five push ups in one minute. She had to take his word for it; she hadn’t been counting, hadn’t even been able to count, after the video started.
The shot zoomed in on Rafe’s back from above. His muscles bunched and released under his thin tank shirt as he strained to pump out reps.
She’d replayed that clip several times in private, thinking all sorts of hot, sweaty thoughts. The ripple of strength as he bobbed up and down…her breath steamed in puffs on the air and her thighs heated just from the memory.
But after another odd lag, the image that popped up in her feed wasn’t Rafe’s back.
It was his face.
“Oh!” She nearly clapped in delight. She’d been hoping for a better picture of him. His chat head was mostly grin, his eyes scrunched to moonlike slivers, his head turned and tilted at such an angle that she’d had to imagine what he might really look like.
Now she could see.
Tousled black hair, jet brows sharp as ink slashes. Eyes a brilliant blue, so gorgeous they cut into her soul. She drank in his masculine beauty, including the tops of compelling cheekbones.
The rest of his features, though, were round, boy-next-door average.
And one other thing. His right cheek was a mass of puckers, as if his skin was a darned sock or made out of bubblewrap.
No text with it. No snarky I really am ruggedly handsome or I’m Ironman.
Just the single picture, hanging there at the bottom of the message stream, almost as if it was holding its breath.
“Is that you?” She began to type the words, but hesitated pressing send.
While she wavered, a bubble popped up. —It’s me. I’m scarred. Pretty badly.—
She’d gotten used to his almost-mind-reading and erased her text then quickly typed, —Can you tell me what happened? Does it hurt?— She pressed send.
Regretted it immediately. What if she’d said the wrong thing?
The screen froze, and for a moment, her breath froze with it. Was this something that pained him to talk about? If she’d hurt him by asking, she’d feel terrible.
A reply finally popped up. —Doesn’t hurt any more. Stupid accident involving too much testosterone. But thanks for asking.—
Her breath unfroze, her body warming. Maybe he didn’t often talk about it, but he had with her. —Thank you for sharing this with me.—
He responded with a sticker, a purring cat with a heart over it.
He’d posted a heart. Longing, sweet and thrilling, threaded her body like candy syrup. She shuddered with it.
Dial it down, Cin. You’re overreacting. It was simply a cute little sticker. Didn’t mean he loved her.
Still, it was nice, and she liked it. She was about to search for a sticker to reply with when a line of alert appeared below.
Rafe is typing.
She waited, breathless for what he’d share next.
The message bubble, when it popped up, contained a single line.
—Can we meet?—
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