The Naughty Nine Boxed Set
Publication date: July 8th 2014
Genres: Adult, Romance
Synopsis (individual book descriptions attached fro anyone who wants to post them):
The Naughty Nine — Where Danger and Passion Collides
Included in this box set collection:
* Stop in the Name of Love by New York Times Best Selling author Nina Bruhns
* Deathblow by New York Times Best Selling author Dana Marton
* A Girl, A Guy And A Ghost by Patricia Mason
* Everything He Never Wanted by Mary Leo
* Red Rock Rises by Taylor Lee
* Dirty Little Secrets by New York Times Best Selling author Julie Leto
* Sex is Murder by Rita Heron
* Saved by Lorhainne Eckhart
* Snowbound by USA Today Best Selling author Karen Fenech
* Secret Identity by New York Times Best Selling author Jill Sanders
A minute later when he stepped into the general’s office and saw the grave expression on his commander’s face, he sensed trouble.
What was that? Gage Broderick turned away from the frozen dinner he was nuking. Sounded like a knock at the door. Impossible. It was a blizzard outside, and he was in the middle of nowhere.
But the sound nagged. Ignoring the beep from the microwave signaling that his meal was done, he made his way across the rough-hewn plank floor of the cabin to the equally rough door and opened it.
A woman fell into his arms. Gage caught her against him as a cold gust of wind blew inside. Snow swirled in the air, the crystal flakes dancing then landing on the wood floor and instantly becoming puddles of water.
The woman was unconscious, wet, and so cold, goose bumps rose on Gage’s own flesh from merely touching her.
The last thing he wanted was company. He felt a surge of anger at the intrusion. He had an instant—a flash—of just leaving her where he’d found her. He went still. He closed his eyes. It was a near thing but he wasn’t that far gone. He hadn’t completely lost his humanity. Yet.
He lifted the unconscious woman into his arms and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. With the door closed, the wind was gone. More than the absence of cold, the cabin was again quiet other than the sound of the clock on the mantel ticking and the groans and squeaks of the old wood as he made his way into the living room.
He placed the woman on the leather couch and checked her pulse. Slow but steady. There was blood along her hair line. He parted her thick, brown hair gently and found a long gash at one temple that looked raw, enough to hurt but not severe enough to be life threatening. He probed further, but found no other cuts. He thumbed open her eye lids. Pupils were normal. Not concussed, then. He’d clean the head wound, but that was no longer his first concern.
Her hair was tucked in the collar of her T-shirt. Oddly, she wore no coat. Her face had little more color than the white shirt. He had to get her warm.
The snow on her skin was melting and droplets of water glistened on her face and in her hair. He got a towel from the linen cupboard and gently dried her skin, then moved on, drying her hair as best he could with the cloth.
Tossing the towel aside, he made short work of one boot, dropping it onto the floor, but as he tried to remove the other, it held. He ran his fingers gently over her lower leg and felt swelling in her ankle. Broken? He needed to free her leg. He estimated that the woman had been inside with him for about three minutes. She hadn’t stirred in that time. Better that she hadn’t. The way her boot had molded to her ankle, when he forced it, it was going to hurt.
With her boots off, he saw that her white socks were soaked through. He peeled them off carefully. Her right ankle was swollen, all right. Swollen but not broken, he judged and on its way to getting one hell of a bruise. He figured she’d had enough ice on that foot, thanks to the snow. Nothing he could do for it.
Her jeans were wet. Her T-shirt soaked through. No help for it, he was going to have to remove them. By the time he’d taken off the garments, he’d broken into a sweat. Not the result of shifting her slight body weight the few times needed to remove the clothing, but from what had been revealed to him. A tight, sexy body now clad only in a lacy bra thing and matching bikini panties.
Gage rubbed a hand, that was no longer steady, down his face. Her underwear was also too wet to leave on and would have to go as well . . .
Excerpt from EVERYTHING HE NEVER WANTED by Mary Leo
Despite his distaste for what she’d done, he immediately went hard gazing at the long line of her magnificent back, all her luscious curves and her naked butt. She seemed much rounder and with more delicious curves in the soft glow of moonlight peeking in through the sheer curtains on the window. Her legs were longer and more muscular than he remembered, but then he didn’t remember much about that night. Plus there was something on the small of her back, right above her sweet butt, but he couldn’t make it out. Even her hair had a much deeper tone to it, although there were dark shadows over the upper part of her body and he couldn’t really see much above her shoulders.
He closed the door behind him and stripped naked figuring he’d get the sex out of the way, then in the morning she’d return his book and he’d be out of there before breakfast.
An easy, sensuous exchange, one they would both thoroughly enjoy.
Within moments he slipped onto the bed and wrapped his arms around the woman who liked to play with fire.
As soon as he nuzzled her sweet neck, taking in her musky perfume, she said, “I sleep with a gun under my pillow, and my hand is on the trigger. I’m an excellent marksman, and if you don’t leave right now I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
Antonio jumped out of bed and was out of the bedroom faster than his thoughts could catch up to his mouth. “Wait! What? Holy crap, woman! It’s me.”
“Me who?” a voice shouted from the bedroom as Antonio stood in the middle of the living room, shaking from fear, his heart beating faster than a humming bird’s, adrenalin gushing through his veins. He felt as though he was going to pass out, but then he took a couple deep breaths and regained clarity.
“The house guest you invited.” He dashed behind the sofa, as if it could serve as some sort of protection from a screaming bullet.
An unfamiliar face peeked out from the doorway, the rest of her body hiding behind the wall, then she disappeared back inside the bedroom.
“Okay. Okay. I’m confused. I don’t know who you are, or what you’ve done with Jackie, but please just throw me my clothes and I’ll get out of here.”
His clothes flew out of the bedroom, along with his shoes, one at a time, without the girl showing her face. Antonio ran up the short hallway and quickly scooped up everything, but couldn’t seem to manage getting anything on. He was shaking too much. Instead he ran back down the hallway holding his things in a tight ball in front of him. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’m a . . . friend of Jackie’s. She invited me.”
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? You just broke in.”
“I didn’t break in. She gave me the key.”
He couldn’t believe he was having a conversation with someone who had just threatened to kill him.
After a long silence, the girl said, “What’s your name and how do you know Jackie?”
“Antonio Milani. I met her in New York. We . . . I . . . I’m here to retrieve something that belongs to me.”
“Shit,” he heard the girl say.
“Everything okay in there?”
“You’re that Antonio Milani?”
“Is there another one?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good, because I thought I was special.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He tried to placate the gun toting lunatic in the bedroom, but he really needed to know who she was. “Who are you?”
Antonio’s potential shooter slowly came into view at the end of the hallway. She flipped on a light switch and he could see that she was wearing stretchy tights that showcased bunnies in various colors hopping down her legs, and a white tee with a huge bunny with floppy ears that seemed to outline her full round breasts. Her thick auburn hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail on the top of her head. Her empty hands were at her sides.
No gun of any kind . . . just bunnies.
He let out the breath he’d been holding. His shooter wore bunnies?