Fortune's Promise: A Fortune Story Read online

  She didn’t care to stick around long enough to have someone hurt her, because that’s what always happened. Nothing could last forever. She’d suffered enough through her entire childhood, taking blow after emotional blow when she’d been young and had no defenses. All of it had been so painful, so heartbreaking. Never, ever again would she put herself through something like that willingly.

  Could she recall one serious boyfriend throughout her entire string of so-called relationships? Not really. She was the good-time girl, the one guys liked to hang out with, the one they liked to bang, especially because she was no-strings. No fuss, no muss, just fun.

  Mister Number Cruncher Charles Manning probably didn’t even know the meaning of no fuss, no muss. He was probably intent on finding a woman ready to settle down with, looking for a relationship. He reeked of commitment. His cologne was probably named Commitment.

  That was so not her style.

  The doorbell rang and she ran her hands down the front of her cotton tank dress, her palms suddenly sweaty. She hated having to turn him away, didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes, on his face, but it had to be done. One minor encounter with the man and already she was in over her head. She couldn’t imagine how an actual sweaty mattress session with him would make her feel.

  Be strong. She lifted her chin, straightened her posture and walked with determined steps to the door.

  All thoughts of being strong and dumping his sexy ass flew right out the door with her first sight of him on her front porch. Her jaw dropped open in surprise, her mouth going dry. He looked deliciously sexy with his hands stuffed in the front pockets of worn jeans, a black T-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest. He smiled at her, dimples flashing, brown eyes filled with sexual heat behind the wire frames of his glasses. Her heart skipped a beat and her entire body roared to life, eager for his touch.

  Just one more time, what can it hurt? She could take it, she thought as she grabbed his hand and yanked him inside, kicking the door shut behind him. She pushed his big body against the door, flattened herself against him and pulled his head down.

  “Nice to see you, too,” he murmured just before her lips captured his.

  They kissed long and slow, wonderful lazy kisses. His tongue traced the outline of her lips and she opened her mouth to him, her tongue dancing with his. His hands slid up and down her sides, dragging her dress up with every pass until they slipped underneath, cupping her panty-clad ass.

  She moaned into his mouth and pressed against him, unable to help herself. He got the message, lifting her, and she wrapped her legs around him.

  “You’re strong,” she said, peppering tiny kisses all over his face, darting her tongue out to lick his skin.

  “You’re light.” His dark hair rubbed against her face as he moved down to kiss her neck, nibbling the sensitive flesh.

  A shiver consumed her when his teeth hit an extra touchy spot. “You’re sweet but I’m not that light.”

  After they’d won the lottery, she’d been on a non-stop eating binge at the finest restaurants she could find. She had to be packing at least an extra ten pounds since she’d started.

  “Mmm, you smell good. Taste good.” His lips were soft as they cruised up her neck, skimmed her jaw before finally settling on her mouth. He drank from her, his mouth languid, his tongue teasing and she clutched at him, sank her hands in his hair to keep him there, right where she wanted him.

  Oh, the man could kiss. She could do this all night. So slow, so soft, utterly decadent. His tongue searched her mouth, wet and warm and tasting faintly of mint. She tunneled her hands into his silky hair, the dark strands wrapping around her fingers and she undulated against him, wanting more. His erection brushed against her, huge and urgent and her nipples hardened to almost painful points.

  “Take me to my bedroom,” she whispered against his mouth, licking at his lips.

  He lifted his head, glanced around. “Hell, where is it? Your house is huge. How much did you pay for this monstrosity again?”

  Brittney tugged on his hair, making him yelp. “You should know and besides, there will be no talk of financial matters tonight, please. You need to focus on the task at hand.”

  “Which is?” He smiled, dimples flashing again and her tummy fluttered at the sight of them.

  She could look at those cute, sexy dimples over and over and never tire of it.

  “I will always love you.” Not just a figure of speech when you're undead.

  Big Girls Don’t Die

  © 2009 Crystal Jordan

  In the Heat of the Night, Book Two

  Six months ago, Andre St. James committed the ultimate one-night-stand party foul by turning Cynthiana into the spawn of Satan…also known as a vampire. He insisted he knew they were meant to be together forever and ever, so why wait for her to be on the same page with him to suck the life out of her?

  What. Ever. The only thing the two of them share is chemistry that blasts off the charts. So she drop kicked him out of her life and told him to never come back. He listened. Until now.

  Andre knows Cyn has trouble dealing with his take-no-prisoners approach to life, and that turning her against her will was a mistake. But he’s got patience born of centuries of immortality, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get back into her good graces and stay there forever. Including wait until she has no choice but to turn to him.

  After all, no one understands forever like a vampire. He’s loved her from the moment he saw her…and he always will.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Big Girls Don’t Die:

  My hands clenched on the steering wheel. I had to get to my cousin. That’s all I could think. Please, please let Desi be okay. I loved that little girl so much. I was going crazy right now. Worry gnawed at me like a hungry werewolf. One quick look at the speedometer told me that I was about ten miles over the speed limit. They wouldn’t pull me over for that, would they? I pushed my convertible Mini Cooper a little faster.

  Flicking a glance down while I punched the speed-dial, I tried to get Misty on the phone for a progress report on Desi. It was a few hours to Las Vegas from Los Angeles, but if I hurried I could be inside the hospital before dawn. Something else to get pissed at Andre for. No reflection, no sunlight.

  My stomach rumbled. Oh, yeah. Cravings for blood. Another lovely side effect. When was the last time I had fed? I meant to have something substantial before I went to Eclipse, but Andre had sort of interrupted that plan. I’d barely taken any blood from him, so my stomach felt as if it was digesting itself right now.

  “Hi, this is Misty and Desiree, leave us a message—”

  “Damn it.” I huffed out a breath and tossed my cell phone on the passenger seat.

  My gaze swept the barren landscape along I-15. There wasn’t anything for as far as I could see except dirt and stars and a few ragged Joshua trees. When I glanced back at the road, a large white jackrabbit hopped in front of my car.

  “Shit.” I jerked the wheel and swerved to miss it, but the crunch of bone sounded as it bounced against the underside of my car. “Oh, that is just nasty.”

  And then my tire blew up. Rubber popped. The Mini Cooper’s back end spun out. My heart stuttered as my pretty little car made grinding noises when the metal of my tire rim hit pavement.

  “Shit, piss, motherfucker. Oh God. Oh God.”

  Skidding off onto the soft shoulder of the road, the car finally came to a stop. I sat there and panted while my heart rate galloped. My knuckles showed white on the wheel, and I had to force myself to relax my grip and reach down to shift into park. My hands shook on the door handle when I hauled myself out to go look at my tire. I walked around the car to the passenger side and kept an eye out for crazy-ass drivers who might be too blind or stupid to see the emergency flashers on my car and hit me. Oh, yeah. That was the flattest tire I’d ever seen. Little bits of rubber hung off it and flopped on the ground.

  “Spare tire, Cyn. Put it on and get the hell to Vegas.�
� Popping my trunk, I—What the hell?—Where were the jack and tire iron? I had forgotten to check for them in this car when I bought it from the used car dealership last week. Now that I needed ’em, they were nowhere to be found. Fan-damn-tastic. Time to call in reinforcements.

  I opened the passenger door and fished around for my cell phone. Please, please, please let me have cell phone service. I was in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, not daring to look. My breath whooshed out when I saw I had full bars. I pulled in a deep breath while I dialed my roadside assistance number. The number was programmed into my phone, just in case. You never knew when a Rambo-wannabe jackrabbit would hang on to your bumper and use his last breath to shred your tire. Fucking bunny.

  I punched in all the appropriate numbers and listened to a recorded voice tell me to call 911 if it was a life threatening emergency. Well, duh. “Hello? I have a flat tire, and I need someone to come put on my spare—”

  The woman dispatcher’s professionally concerned voice cut me off. “Okay, ma’am. Are you in a safe area?”

  I looked around at the miles and miles of dirt. “I’m kind of in the middle of nowhere, but I guess I’m safe.”

  “Good. Now where are you exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m eastbound on I-15 about a hundred miles west of Las Vegas. I don’t see a call box or any mile markers.”

  “So, you’re east of Las Vegas—”

  “No, I’m west of Vegas going east toward Vegas.” I rolled my eyes.

  “What city did you just pass?”

  Did I just speak English? I swear I’d told this woman I had no idea where I was. I was worried about Desi, not about where I might pop a tire. “I’m not sure. I know I’m about a hundred miles west of Vegas.”

  “All right, ma’am. We’ll dispatch someone, and they should be there in about twenty to thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you!” I could be with Desi soon, then. I shivered as the cold desert night air hit my bare shoulders and legs. Hurrying back to the driver’s side, I slid into my seat.

  Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. Oh, good. Must be the tow truck driver.

  “Hello?”

  An older female voice responded, “Hi, Ms. Trent. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to dispatch anyone until we know your location. Can you tell me exactly where you are?”

  I blinked. “Um. I already told the last lady I talked to.”

  “Can you tell me again?”

  Okay, stay calm. I’d only been on the side of the road for about half an hour. Everything was fine. “Sure. I’m not one hundred percent sure of where I am, but I’m eastbound on I-15 about a hundred miles west of Las Vegas.”

  “Are there any mile makers nearby?”

  “No.” And I sure as hell wouldn’t wander around in the frigid ass desert to look for one.

  She was silent for a long moment. “Um. All right, ma’am. We’ll dispatch someone, and they should be there in about twenty to thirty minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” I sighed and dropped the phone on my lap.

  Twenty minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  A pleasant male voice answered. “Hi, Ms. Trent. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to dispatch anyone until we know your location. Can you tell me exactly where you are?”

  Gliders and Wizards and Sex Droids… Oh My!

  Not in Kansas

  © 2008 R.G. Alexander

  Kansas Frayne has everything he needs. Except a life—and love. A freak storm changes all that when it hurls him into the darkness. He wakes up to find he’s been thrust into a world of promiscuous and directionally challenged beings, sensually sentient water and servants created solely to fulfill any imaginable fantasy.

  The sexuality he’s long denied is tested to its limits, especially when a darkly erotic wizard issues the ultimate challenge. If Kansas wants to go home, he must fulfill one task. Resist the allure of the unbearably beautiful king.

  Sounds easy enough.

  Until he gets a look at the golden monarch. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and Kansas quickly realizes this is a challenge he is doomed to fail. Yet he has to try.

  Before he loses his heart.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Not in Kansas:

  The storm rolled in from nowhere.

  Five minutes ago the sky had been a cloudless, nearly blinding blue. Now, angry black shadows skimmed the tall fields he’d been wandering aimlessly through, all on a collision course toward each other.

  Toward him.

  There was no time to run. No safe direction. The deafening roar of the Furies screaming his way had him covering his head and falling instinctively to the ground. For a moment, time seemed to slow. He thought about his empty house. The long line of days that had passed exactly as this one had. In silence. Alone.

  He wished there were more exciting memories to flash before his eyes, and then he just wished for a chance to make a few more. A chance to live.

  Thunder cracked and his eyes squeezed shut as the hot, angry breath of the tempest tore him away from everything he knew. His world went black.

  Kansas was gone.

  “I think it’s dead.”

  “Don’t be daft, Lenard. Would it moan like that if it were dead? And just think, if I hadn’t gone left when you told me to go right, we’d never have seen it at all. Look, look. Its eyes are opening. Ooh, pretty. I’ve never seen eyes like that before.”

  Kansas took a breath. Blinked.

  Blinked again.

  His head was aching as if it had had a run in with the grill of a Mack truck. A concussion would explain a lot—the creatures hovering over his body for instance.

  Certain he’d rattled his brain in the fall, he tried to play it cool. He didn’t want to scream hysterically in front of what were probably normal, human looking paramedics and end up going to the wrong kind of hospital.

  “I was…there was this storm and…” He slowly raised himself on his elbows and looked around. “It must have taken me farther than I thought. There aren’t any woods like this on my property.”

  “His eyes are the blue of the Krentyn Sea. His hair is pale as the butter flower. And, Fenna, look. He’s golden, but not all over like the King and his men. Parts of this one are pale. Like fresh cream.” Kansas felt his eyebrows touch his hairline as the fine, reddish fur covering the young man in front of him rose and trembled, standing on edge like an agitated cat.

  Kansas ran a hand through his hair, searching for the wound he was sure he would find. Nope. Not even a bump. Maybe he was still unconscious. This could be a dream, right? He was lying in the woods listening to a dainty bird-woman and a large, muscular male cat with humanoid features discuss his physical attributes as if he couldn’t hear them.

  Yes. Definitely a dream.

  The female above him twittered. “You and your cream, Lenard. I can see you’ve already made up your mind to like this one.”

  She caught Kansas’s gaze and inclined her head to a level below her companion’s waist. Kansas swallowed hard. He wasn’t altogether sure Lenard liking him was a good thing. Although he had to admit the engorged shaft rising aggressively from between the male’s thick thighs was impressive.

  That clinched it. He’d been alone far too long. He even felt his own cock stirring in response.

  That’s when he realized he was naked.

  “Shit! What the hell?” He jumped to his feet, covering his partial arousal with his hands. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he stumbled, stubbing his toe. “Ow! This doesn’t make any sense. It has to be a dream. But why can’t I wake up?”

  The beautiful angles of the female’s face softened. “Be at ease, sea-eyed one. You say a storm brought you here?”

  Her head tilted thoughtfully at his nod. “I haven’t heard of anything like that since I was a flightless babe at my greatmother’s knee. But it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’re no Crow Warrior. You definitely aren’t
from around here.”

  “Crow Warrior?”

  She sent a telling look to Lenard. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it but to take you to the king. Lenard will like that, won’t you, Lenard? A chance to pay your respects to our king?”

  “Yes, Fenna.” Lenard’s voice shook at the prospect. If his cock, jerking and growing even larger before their eyes, was anything to go by, he apparently really liked his king. Kansas forced his gaze back to the female.

  “I can’t go anywhere with you. First of all, I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. Secondly, well, I have nothing to wear. And hallucination or not, I’m not moving from this spot as long as I’m naked.” He didn’t mention that the two creatures before him were naked as well, though they at least had some covering in the form of feathers and fur.

  Feathers and fur. Another possibility struck him. Maybe there’d been no storm at all. Maybe he’d finally gone round the bend, the way his uncle had sworn he would when Kansas had left the world he’d known all his life for the solitude of the family farm all those years ago.

  Five years alone, with only the bi-monthly trips into town to remind him that other people were still wandering the world. Still going about their lives without him. But he hadn’t wanted to know. Maybe his determination to hide from reality had finally driven him insane.

  “We can fix that, sea eyes. But first, do you have a name? A people you belong to? I am called Fenna. I belong to the Glider Clan. This is Lenard. As you can see, he is a Felix.”

  Lenard blushed at the mention of his name. The youthful excitement in his slanted ebony eyes did something to Kansas. Long forgotten memories he immediately and violently pushed down. What had Fenna asked him again?

  “Kansas. My name is Kansas Frayne. I don’t belong to any clan. I mean, well, I’m just a regular guy from Iowa if that’s what you’re asking.” She continued to watch him, a blank expression on her face. “I’m human.”