Monday, August 31, 2015

Sacked & Tackled: Tobey Fine


Tobey Fine
Sacked & Tackled #1
by Palessa
a Sports Romance
from Beau Coup LLC
It’s finally time for the player to get played.

Tobey Fine, the ‘Blasian Sensation’ is at the top of his game as the face of the Miami Medusas, a Steinger Football League team. When he’s introduced to his teammate’s best friend, the Blasian Sensation
comes face-to-face with his reckoning.

Niveah Wallace is the founder of Carmicon Technologies, a software development company contracted to do a pilot game app featuring the Miami Medusas and team rivals, the Atlanta Mercury. If this project goes well, it will put CarmTech on the map.

Still smarting from Tobey’s rejection years ago, Niveah is presented with her chance to get back at him—but forgets that revenge can be a double-edged sword.

Despite their initial fallout, Tobey and Niveah grow close in a way neither expected. But inside the SFL there’s trouble brewing as a piece of Tobey’s past threatens to upend his present and jeopardize his future. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his love no matter who he has to fight to do it.
**CONTENT WARNING: Contains adult language, m/m, and sexual situations and is intended for adult audiences only. 18+ Only**


What happened next, she would look back on as the low blow that was her final straw. Just a little before lunchtime the following day, the most delicious tangy sweet smell hit her hard. She came out and saw a man in a puff chef’s hat in front
of two circular hot plates. He ladled some white liquid onto one of the plates and carefully spread it out with a flat edge.
Crap! Crêpes.
She loved crêpes.
Tobey Fine had decided to play dirty and he was not going to get away with it.
She grabbed her phone and called him.
Tobey was just finishing up his set when he heard his phone dance on the bench.
CarmTech. Niveah. Allowing himself to enjoy what he thought was a small victory, he smiled and let it ring for another second before answering.
“Three days,” he spouted.
Taken aback by something other than a ‘hello,’ Niveah responded, “What?”
“It took you three days to call me back. Flowers then lunch from your favorite supermarket deli. You are not easy.”
“My favorite—how the hell did you—” Blake Allan Berrios was a dead man. “I’m going to kill him until he dies.”
“Now that’s not nice.” Tobey was enjoying the frustration he was hearing on the other end of the line.
“What do you want, Tobey?”
“A do-over,” he replied.
“What is this, middle school? You can’t undo that. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Okay, then I want to make it up to you. Properly.”
“Why?” Niveah’s voice was more tender than she meant it to be. A part of her had dreamed that he would say those words but when the moment had come, she didn’t trust it or the man saying it. Seven years was a long time and she wasn’t about to make it easy for him to see how much she wanted this. “Why do you want to make it up to me? It’s over and done. You made it clear and I got the message. So why this?”
Tobey sighed. He heard her tough words and it made him proud for some reason. But underneath all of that, something in her voice was challenging him to prove himself, his intentions. He decided he was up to the challenge. “Because while it took you three days to call me back, you could have just said nothing at all. That means I have a chance to say I’m sorry for what I did and that you’d actually forgive me for being a jerk that night.”
Niveah was prepared for some tired story about how fine she looked now compared to then. She was ready for all of that drivel but not for something so...sincere. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do but maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as she thought after all.
“All right.” She relented before she had a chance to change her mind.
She could practically hear Tobey grinning when he spoke, “Good. Be ready tonight at six. I’ll pick you up.”
“Just tell me where and—”
“I. Will. Pick. You. Up,” he ground out the words to make sure his point was clear.
“Fine,” Niveah mumbled. “Wait, how did you know I was going to even say yes or call today?”
“I didn’t. But since the crêpe chef is going to be in your office for a week, I thought my odds were good.”
“A week?” she screeched.
“Yep. One whole week. In your office. Every lunch.”
That was when Niveah smelled the unmistakable warm sweetness of chocolate, hazelnut, and strawberries. The chef was making one of her favorites.
God help her waistline.

Contact the Author

Even Vampires Get the Blues


Even Vampires Get the Blues
A Deadly Angels Book #7
by Sandra Hill
a Paranormal Romance
New York Times bestselling author Sandra Hill delivers a sizzling new entry in her Deadly Angels series, as a Viking vangel’s otherworldly mission teams him with a Navy SEAL who’s more than his match-she’s his predestined mate . . .

The fact that vampire angel Harek Sigurdsson was a Norseman in his mortal life doesn’t make thawing out after exile in Siberia any easier. But things heat up when his search for evil Lucipires connects him with Camille Dumaine, a human who thrums with sensual energy that can mean only one thing: she’s the mate Harek’s been seeking for centuries. . .
The SEALs call her “Camo” for her ability to blend into a crowd-yet Harek’s intense blue gaze singles Camille out like a white-hot spotlight. The security wiz was hired to help bring down a ruthless band of international kidnappers, but Camille senses an unspoken agenda-besides Harek’s bold declaration that she’s his “destiny”. Just Camille’s luck that the sexiest man she’s ever met may also be …a vampire!

Everything he touched turned to gold, or leastways a considerable profit, and thank the gods for that, because Harek Sigurdsson was a brilliant Viking with an insatiable hunger for wealth and all its trappings.
It didnt matter that he had vast holdings in the Norselands, an estate in Northumbria, several hirds of warriors who served under him when called to battle by one grab-land king or another (Harek was a much-sought battle strategist), amber fields in the Baltics, trading stalls in the marketplaces of Hedeby, Kaupang, and the Coppergate section of Jorvik, a fleet of twelve longships and two knarrs, and numerous chests filled with coins, jewels, and rare spices. It was never enough! Not to mention three wives and six concubines … or was it seven?
Not that he wanted or needed any more wives or concubines. Like many Viking men (hah! men of all lands, truth to tell), he was betimes guided by a body rudder known for its lackwittedness when it fancied a woman. The Wise Ones had the right of it when they proclaimed: A cock has no brain. Well, at the ripe old age of twenty and nine, he had finally taken a sip from Odins famed well of knowledge. In future, when he came upon a comely
woman, he would bed her, not wed her, then send her on her merry way with a pat on the rump and a pouch of gold coins. Cheaper that way and lots less trouble!
Harek had just completed a meeting with Toriq Haraldsson, his agent here in Hedeby. Toriq had once been a hersir overseeing Hareks Norse housecarls. Unfortunately, the fierce swordsman had lost an arm in battle. Harek had no qualms about hiring the handicapped man as his business representative. Loyalty and honesty were more important in that role than fighting skills. Besides, Toriq had once saved Hareks life in battle at a time when Harek had been young and not yet so adept in fighting. A berserk Dane had been about to lop off Hareks very head. Suffice it to say, the wergild for a highborn mans head was enormous.
As they walked side by side on the raised plank walkways that crisscrossed the busy market center, men and women alike glanced their way, not just because of their impressive Norse height and finely sculpted features. Their attire—fur-lined cloaks, gold brooches fastening shoulder mantles, soft leather half bootscould support a tradesmans family for years.
Unaware or uncaring of the attention, Toriq scowled and grumbled under his breath. Toriq was not happy with Harek today.
Spit it out, man. What troubles you?
This latest venture of yours … it ill-suits a man of your stature, Toriq said, but then he had to step aside to accommodate a crowd that had gathered to watch a craftsman blowing blue glass into a pitcher. Other artisans were hammering gold and silver into fine jewelry. In fact, Harek noticed an etched armband he might purchase later. In other stalls, workers could be seen carving wood and ivory, or firing clay pots in kilns behind the trading tables.
Hedeby was an exciting city, always something going on. To Harek, the bustle of commerce, the sounds of money being made, were like music to the ears. There wasnt anything that couldnt be purchased here, from the prized walrus rope that was cut in a single spiral strip from shoulder to tail, to—well—to his latest venture.

 About the Author:
Sandra Hill is a graduate of Penn State and worked for more than 10 years as a features writer and education editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing about serious issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even the darkest stories. She is the wife of a stockbroker and the mother of four sons.

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He's So Fine!


He’s So Fine
by Marie Mason
a MMA / New Adult / College / Romantica Erotica

  Book Description: 
Underground fighter Cage Montgomery was use to making it on his own. When a man in a two-piece suit showed up during his training session, he wasn’t the least bit curious. But Frank, his mentor and the only father figure he’d ever known, ordered him to go to the Hamptons to see his long-lost father.
Cage finds much more than that…he discovers he has a step-sister that makes his body—and his heart—feel alive for the very first time in years.

Theirs was not a forbidden love…but was it a love never meant to be?
Available at Amazon


Abby looked at me through the dark veil of her lashes and I could tell she was dying to ask me why I wanted a computer. She looked damn cute this morning. Her hair fell down her back in soft waves and she had on the slightest touch of makeup. Not that she needed it. She was beautifully fresh faced. Today she wore a green and brown outfit that clung to her curves in all the right places. She kept tugging at the top, pulling it away from her breasts. The action only made me want to look even more. I knew she was self-conscious of her size. Hopefully, by the end of the summer she wouldn’t have any doubts about her attractiveness to the opposite sex. I smirked as I took another drink of my protein smoothie.

I could say with no false modesty that being fucked by Cage Montgomery usually ramped up a girl’s self-esteem.

Taking another drink, I had to say the quality and quantity of food was much better at the Montgomery summer residence than I’d had in my entire life. I felt no qualms eating my fill. It was the least the old man could to do, feed me for one summer. It wouldn’t make up for the days I’d gone to bed hungry as a child. But then, I didn’t know if anything could. Except maybe making sure no kid of mine ever did.

“You can use mine. It’s not the latest, but it will get you on the net and there’s a word processing program—”

“You don’t have to sell it to me. As long as I can get on the sites I need, I’m good.”

She walked across the room and took her backpack from the floor. I noticed that even when she went off with her posse, she took her backpack. I watched as her ass cheeks juggled and wondered if she was wearing a thong. I loved slipping my fingers beneath a woman’s clothes and filling my hand with a plump ass cheek.

When she straightened back up, she was biting her lower lip. I just stared at her, realizing she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She had no fucking idea how much that turned me on. How much I wanted to lean down and suck her full lower lip into my mouth and ravage it with my teeth.

“I, um.”

“Spit it out, Sis.”

“I don’t have an anit-virus program. So if you, ‘em—”

“So if I get on my kinky websites, I better be careful and not give you something?”

“I didn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t worry, babe, I’m clean.”

Spotlight Materials

CAGE:       I was a boob man. Always had been. I knew natural from fake. Fake had the perky, almost perfectly round shape that, while filling out a bathing suit or bra perfectly, left a lot to be desired in the sack. I preferred not to knead and bite on a bag of silicone.


Large, natural breasts had a tear shaped droop to them. The flesh gave beneath the fingers and I could make a woman come sucking on her nipples since they hadn’t lost all feeling under the cut of the knife. If this woman’s weren’t all natural I’d go find Big Saul and let him beat me to a pulp. My mouth salivated when I thought of tasting her.



She shrugged her shoulder again and I realized it was a nervous habit, like tugging at the hem of her shirt. I wished she had on something else, something that would slip off her shoulder and reveal her creamy smooth skin. I realized I should have hooked up with a girl before I made the trip. That had to be the cause for my unreasonable attraction to this woman.


My stepsister.

Oh, fuck, that would be just wrong. Wouldn’t it?


She retrieved a glass pitcher filled with lemonade. It had lemon slices floating on top. She had to steady it with both hands, leaving no doubt it was real crystal. Stretching again, she reached for two glasses in the cabinet above her head.


Before I realized what I was doing, I was at her side, taking them down and handing them to her. Now, no one ever accused me of being a gentleman. But hell, if it didn’t bring out something in me to see her struggling like that. “Here you go. Maybe you should get a little step stool or something.” I grinned down at her as I handed her the glasses.


She gave me a reprimanding look worthy of a teacher. Or a nun. “Ha, ha. How’s the weather up there, by the way?”




She wasn’t really short, about five-five in my estimation. But that made her a whole foot shorter than me. I didn’t move as she poured us each a glass of lemonade. It seemed to frazzle her so I stepped closer when her back was turned.


She let out a little yelp when she bumped into me. “I didn’t know you were that close.”


She pushed those cute little glasses up her nose. It made me want to take them off to see just how beautiful those eyes were.


I used the excuse of retrieving my glass of lemonade to crowd her against the counter. I let my cock brush against her hip and delighted in the sharp inhalation of breath she couldn’t control. I took a long drink, knowing her gaze would follow the movement of my throat. It was a cheap seduction trick most guys learned early. I set down the empty glass, caging her in with my arms.


I used that trick every time I could. Chicks went crazy and thought that was how I got my name. Caging them in with my arms.


It wasn’t. My mother had named me Cage. Horace Cage. What a fucking name. I always wondered if she thought my birth had somehow put her in a cage. That was a conversation we would never have. She’d been dead to me long before I’d buried her.



I pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. My body was still hot, my thoughts still churning. Don’t ever believe that girls don’t think about sex as often as boys do. Or that we don’t like it as much. We’re just not as overt about it. Well, some girls were. Like Tiffany and Barbara Ann. They flaunted their bodies like lollipops—offering themselves up for a good lick.


Mean, I know, but true. And who’s not to say I might not act exactly like them if I had their rocking bodies. No, I don’t swing that way, but I was honest enough to acknowledge they were beautiful. On the outside at least. Despite the urban legends, not all girls experiment in college. I certainly had no intention. No, my fantasies revolved around a man like Cage.


My hand slipped down and I touched myself. I wasn’t surprised to find myself slick with need. I immediately zeroed in on my clit. Pressing my fingers inside my pussy didn’t do it for me. I think I was one of those women who couldn’t orgasm without some clitty stimulation. Preferably, with a man’s tongue. I’d never had a boy go down on me. But I wanted to. Oh, yeah, I wanted to I thought as I imagined Cage between my legs. I bet he knew exactly what to do. I could almost feel the broad stroke of his rough tongue as he licked me.

My breathing accelerated as my fingers rubbed harder. I didn’t even need to imagine Cage without his clothes to get off. In seconds, I was groaning low in my throat as my pussy spasmed. Withdrawing my hand from my pajama bottoms, I didn’t know how an orgasm with a man could be any better than that.

But, heaven help me, I wanted to find out.

Preferably with my stepbrother who was sleeping down the hall.

I buried my face in my pillow and thought about what a bad, bad girl I really was.


Teaser Quotes


Cage:          Fighting was all I knew. All I ever wanted to know…until that day…


Cage:          I stayed away from trouble if I could. And this small man, holding a thick white envelope looked like trouble. If only I had known how much…


Abby:         I didn’t know how I was even breathing with Cage so close to me. I felt like I had just landed on the surface of the sun and all the air had been sucked out of my lungs.


Cage:          So, little Sis, where am I sleeping? Do we have to share bunk beds? If so, I’m on top.


Abby:         I lost my ability to talk for a moment as I looked into the dark blue pools of color. His eyes said so much and revealed so little. The first thing I noticed was the sadness that had seemed to form a permanent ring around that incredible color. I’d only seen that color once before…Oh, shit, you’re my stepbrother? Aren’t you?


Cage: Are you brave enough to invite the big, bad wolf inside, little red.

My hair is not red.

No, but your face turns a very cute shade every time you’re embarrassed. Which is a lot.


Abby:         I’d dedicated myself to my school for the past thirteen years. I’d been the good-girl, the straight A student. Little Miss Goody-two shoes. It did seem like fate somehow that this boy—man—had been thrown at my feet. Was it time for me to strip away my inhibitions?


Cage: My father wasn’t a bad guy, just didn’t have a clue what happened in the real world. How people like me fought for their very existence every day of their lives.


Cage: Now, ask me what kind of man I am? Oh, right I already told you. I’m a bad boy. What do bad boys do best? Beside fucking up? They fuck good girls and make them bad.


Abby:         I looked at him. At us. I was facing this giant of man, both of us kneeling on the leather sofa. His legs were spread and his shoulders relaxed. Stroke me, he commanded.


Cage:          Are you going to let me have you, baby? Am I going to get to fuck that sweet little c*** of yours?
 About the Author:
Marie loves anything romance. Give her a story about curvy gals and alpha males and she’s one happy person. She writes what she likes to read. All of her stories feature a big, buffed man who takes one look at the woman meant to be his and falls down on his knees. Each of her stories comes with a happily-ever-after all their own.


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