BOOK / RELEASE FEATURE : Hot-Down Under
Two of the first erotic shorts published by
Welcome everyone & thanks for dropping by to help us celebrate the release of the next two erotic short stories by some fabulous Aussie Authors. To go in the draw to win a copy of each story, just answer the question at the end of each excerpt.
Winner to be picked 18th November 2012.
A Sporting Chance by Rhyll Biest
In the outback town of Mount Tully, many a man’s had to squeeze into a frock after backing the wrong derby cane toad on Australia Day.
But Mount Tully’s surliest bartender, Jane Hood, has her steel-capped boots planted firmly on the ground, so there’s no way she’d risk her independence to accept a saucy bet from the sexy but bossy pub owner, Luka Belov … is there?
Whatever magic DNA spawned his lean, mean heavyweight frame also carried the bossy gene. Forget about the Slavic features that tugged on her libido like a rough hand on a choker-leash, because the bossy ones always thought they could change her, mould her into more of a “lady”. Wrong. And when the romance soured, she’d lose her job. Luka could never be anything more than eye-candy to her.
Speaking of candy…
Pulling the chocolate koala she’d bought at the bar out of her jeans pocket, she caught his disparaging glance. “What?”
“Stuff’s bad for you.”
She gaped at him. This from the man who’d served her microwaved fries? “And I suppose your body’s a temple?”
“Interested in the hours of worship?”
His tone was casual but his eyes held just enough heat to make her blink and stiffen. Unthinkable. He’d openly raised the subject of the hairy, heaving, lustful, elephant in the metaphorical room: sexual attraction.
For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of imagining a strong set of shoulders by her side, a lust-worthy body sharing (or, more likely, hogging) her rumpled sheets in the morning, someone to talk to at the end of the day.
A beautiful dream, but it never worked out that way, not for her. There was always the hurt of not being enough: not girly enough, not nice enough, not whatever enough.
She squared her shoulders, stiffened her resolve and set about repairing the walls between them. “Here’s a bet for you. If Germaine wins, you don’t talk to me for a week.”
An unholy glint lit his eyes. “You’re on. She loses, you wear a dress for a week.”
Not that again. If he loved frocks so much, he should wear one.
“She wins, you wear the dress and don’t talk to me for a week.”
Luka’s bark of laughter deepened her frown.
“You want total warfare, Jane? Fine. She loses, you do exactly what I say for a week, whether that’s dusting my house dressed as Fifi the French maid or giving me a foot massage.”
She froze, the moment amplified by each solid pump of her heart. A week at his bidding? Massage? Her brain froze with lust, refusing to let her move past the image of her hands running over his hard, bare flesh as he lay prone before her with eyes shut, big chest rumbling with satisfaction while she kneaded and stroked.
Impossible. She could never hide her feelings under those conditions, would never be able to rein in her hands to keep them from wandering off his spectacular contours and into more dangerous territory. And with that handsome face of his, he would get anything and everything he wanted from her, which was unlikely to be limited to cleaning duties.
Her stomach churned at the very thought of being under his full control, physically, emotionally and sexually. What if he exploited the situation shamelessly? What if she enjoyed it?
QUESTION : What’s the name of Jane’s racing cane toad?
Beneath the Light of a Silver Moon by Mel Teshco
Kristin Treymore isn’t living anymore – she’s existing.
Trapped in marriage to Jack, an alcoholic who uses his fists to communicate, Kristen has given up her freedom in an attempt to protect his daughter.
When Conrad Doyle, childhood friend and the man whose heart she unwittingly broke, shows up on Kristen’s doorstep and offers her a lifeline, she can’t refuse.
What she never dreams possible is how much she still wants him—but is that enough to keep them together when terror still beats deep in her heart?
She staggered to the front door, throwing a bathrobe over her torn silk chemise and untying her hair to help hide at least a little of her condition.
Just about everyone in the tiny, inland Australian town of Mudgebulla had a pretty good idea of what went on behind her closed doors. She shut her eyes, swiping a hand over her face and feeling weary beyond her years. There was a time that everyone knowing about her abuse would have destroyed her.
But it wasn’t just about her anymore. She had Melanie to consider.
She opened her eyes about the same time she flipped on the front exterior light, then pulled open the door—and drank in Conrad as though he was a drug to dull all her pain. He was so tall, so broad shouldered and seemingly indestructible. God, she wanted only to collapse against his strength, his kindness.
She dropped her stare, snapping out of her momentary madness. But not before absently noting his rumpled and sun-streaked hair was long overdue for a cut. Somehow it suited him. “The neighbourhood grapevine is alive and well?” she asked dully.
Conrad clasped her chin with a gentle hand, bringing her stare back to his. “Yes.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the warzone that was her face. “Why do you stay?” His voice cracked, his calmness a facade. “Only a scumbag lowlife would do this to a woman—to you.”
Tears pricked her vision even as her chin lifted, “I have it under control—”
Conrad let out an aggrieved breath. “You know that’s not true. He chooses to drink in just the same way he chooses to hurt you.”
His hand dropped, taking hold of hers and making her yearn for the very thing she’d turned her back on too long ago. With a gentle tug, he pulled her outside and shut the door on Jack’s loud snores that resonated down the hallway.
The deep-sea green of his eyes glittered beneath the glare of a naked bulb, his emotions running strong. “Jack has nothing to hold you here anymore. Melanie is safe now, she won’t be coming back. Believe me.”
Her pulse jumped. “You know where she is?” she breathed.
He nodded. His thumb stroked her palm, a calming touch. “Yes. She’s safe.”
She slumped against him in utter relief. “Thank god,” she said hoarsely. She didn’t doubt Conrad’s word. But she didn’t want to hear where the teenager had gone. Jack had a way of making her talk even when she had no words left. She wouldn’t risk Melanie’s safety for anything.
Now, with her step-daughter safe, Kristen was at last free to leave. Maybe they could start a new life, just the two of them?
As Conrad’s arms clamped around her and tucked her in close, she refused to think on the pain deep within at never seeing him again, refused to think of the ache in her chest knowing his hold was one that would protect and love whoever was lucky enough to get him.
She couldn’t think of him with another woman, full stop.
Besides, people like her didn’t deserve people like him. She’d lost her chance and thrown his love in his face all those years ago.
QUESTION : What’s the name of the town where Kristen lives?
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