Excerpt – Branded by Étaín , The Beasts of Bärvik, Book One

December 2, 2013 by 4 Comments

Branded_by_Etain-Jianne_Carlo-200x320Branded by Étaín releases this Thursday!!!! Yay. I love my Vikings and this story begins a whole new series incorporating Celtic Irish mythology. It’s so much fun weaving ancient legends into tales. This week the dh and I are on a mini-holiday, so I’ve set up for a new excerpt each day until Branded by Étaín is finally unveiled. Here’s the first one:

Excerpt One – Branded by Étaín:

Étaín twisted this way and that, frantically searching the crowd milling about the market. She held her breath.

He had to be here.

The brisk icy wind buffeting her brat, the new emerald-hued cloak she had commissioned for this very day, did naught to chase away the blazing excitement heating her from within. The tips of her fingers tingled. She tiptoed and peeked ’tween two of the five guards surrounding her and Cedilla.

Where was he?

She knew he was here. Only his presence drove her to a giddiness she had not felt since Eachan stole her youth.

Scarlet and gold streaks blazed across the charcoal horizon of the settlement, Caul Cairlinne, famed for its rich soil, abundant forests, and rumored hoards of fairy gold. ’Twas the end of the festival of Lúnasa and the last moon market of summer.

Dozens streamed around the ring of guards protecting her, men on horseback, peddlers pushing carts, women heaving oversized baskets, and children skipping, shouting and dancing with unbridled energy. The hordes thrummed with exhilaration and anticipation.

Roosters crowed, piglets squealed, cows lowed, and ponies brayed.

The yeasty aroma of bread baking tangled with the briny scent of the sea and the mouth-watering smell of meat roasting all combined to tempt the palate, but Étaín craved not food. Though she had not broken her fast this morn, Étaín hungered only for a glimpse of him, the warrior she had dreamed of since their eyes first met at the Spring Market.

In the beginning, he haunted only her nights, but after their encounter two months ago, he had come to her in daylight too. Through his eyes, she learned of his dismal, barren land and the fire-spewing mountain he both abhorred and feared. She tasted both his grief and rigid determination.

Today, she would speak with him, the warrior fated to be hers, if only for a year and a day.

The man she intended to wed, whether Da approved or not.

Hope  you enjoyed and stay tuned for more!

Cheers,

Jianne

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Happy Holidays!

November 26, 2013 by 5 Comments

TurkeyMost of the North Americans I’ve met don’t realize that Thanksgiving is a holiday peculiar to the continent. While Germany, Bavaria, and Japan have similarly named holidays, to my knowledge no other countries in the world besides Canada and the United States celebrate Thanksgiving in such an elaborate manner.

While Thanksgiving is ‘the’ national holiday in the U.S.A., it isn’t so in Canada. Don’t get me wrong—it’s observed and is a day off, but not with the grand pomp and fervor of the American celebration.

I find the differences between the two nations peculiar because both are offshoots of Britain, both are ‘melting pots’ in terms of population, and both are immigrant-based nations. Yet—and any Canadian readers you can all correct me on this if I’m wrong—in Canada, Thanksgiving yields to Christmas, Hanukkah, Eid-ul-Fitr, Divali, and a whole host of other cultural holidays, in importance.

Over the years I have come to relish Thanksgiving because of the very fact that it’s commemorated by every single American no matter what their origins.

This year is my second without having all my sons present. Last year the young ‘un was in Madrid, and this year the wayward one (middle son) will be in California. He keeps trying to appease my sorrow and worry by reiterating constantly the fact that Google does whosoever’s left on campus proud with incredible feasts and fun-filled activities.

Sigh.

It won’t be the same, but I’m ever so grateful for Skype. We’re going to set up our biggest screen in the dining room and involve the wayward one even if he isn’t so inclined. His gramma insists on it (read his mom).

This will be my last blog before the big occasion, so I want to take this opportunity to wish everyone who’s celebrating Thanksgiving a joyous, happy, family-filled holiday!

Be safe!

Cheers,

Jianne

P.S. I’m on Cover Reveals on Saturday, November 30 – so those who aren’t braving Thanksgiving shopping please drop by – there will be contests galore and prizes!!! Heres the link: http://coverreveals.blogspot.com/

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The Romance Studio’s Thanksgiving Party!

November 25, 2013 by Leave a Comment

For the next couple of days, today and tomorrow, I’m running a few contests over  at The Romance Studio’s Thanksgiving Party.  Drop by and meet new authors, read some smexy posts, and win prizes. Here’s the link: http://trsparties.com/ or click on the banner below:

logo - trs thanksgiving party

Here’s the big prize!

Amazon eGift Card Giveaway

Enter for a chance to win a $125 Amazon eGift Card! Deadline is midnight EST 11/26/13! Click here to find out how to enter!

Have a heckva Monday!

Cheers,

Jianne

 

Filed Under: News and Updates, romance Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Love in The Cards – Free!

November 16, 2013 by 3 Comments

Love in The Cards (small) (2)The Love, Lust, and Laptops Love in the Cards Anthology is finally FREE on Amazon! Yay! Here’s the link:

 

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Cards-Becca-Jameson-ebook/dp/B00GCRF61I

It’s also available at All About Romance, Smashwords, and iTunes:

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-loveinthecards-1333531-166.html 

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/372611

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/love-in-the-cards/id737524179?mt=11

So  here’s some teasers from each tale to titillate your Saturday – and it’s free – go download it and write us reviews!!

Three of Cups by Becca Jameson:

Ellen stood outside the old mansion and stared at the façade. With a deep breath, she took in the beauty of the tall pillars and shutters worn from years of neglect. It looked haunted, but she knew better.

Hell, she knew lots of things. More than she ever wanted to know.

Ellen opened her palms in front of her and closed her eyes, her face lifted to the highest peak of the mansion. She centered herself. A breeze blew by and ruffled her hair as she smiled. The mansion was exactly as she had always pictured it would be.

There was more magic in the air than any place she’d ever been. She wasn’t the only person with something at stake tonight. The mansion was filled with mystery.

When she’d calmed herself, she opened her eyes. A man stood on the top step in front of her. “You coming in?”

She nodded and scurried up the steps behind him. He held the door open. She’d never seen him before, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t the one she was here to meet. Or … the ones…

The invitation to the Halloween party at Dacre House had come a month ago. To the best of her knowledge, she knew no one at the party. That didn’t matter either. She would know someone very well when she left. Two someones.

Empress by Cherie Nicholls

Lucy looked down at the invitation in her hands.
There was a man sitting in the chair on the other side of the room, waiting for her.
So far, this night hadn’t been like anything she’d expected. First, she’d managed to get herself fired from a job she loved. Second, she sort of crashed a Halloween party. But hey, she’d been invited when she’d worked in the Michaelson’s office; the party’s hosts didn’t need to know that technically she wasn’t a Michaelson employee anymore.
Finally, she’d made the mistake of turning over the invitation and looking at the back. Printed on the reverse side was the image of half of a tarot card. The Empress card. Lucy didn’t know much about the mystical element, but doubted the picture had much to do with reading peoples futures at this party.
There were also some instructions printed on the card. Basically, someone would have the other half of her card; her mission was to find that person. Lucy had almost rolled her eyes, but something about the image pulled at her and here she was … a party-crasher.
Upon arrival, she’d headed to the bar and ordered a soda. Lucy had barely taken a sip before a man in a scarlet suit approached her.

The Star by Christy Gissendaner:

The party was already in full swing.

Teetering on hooker heels, Eve Montgomery pushed her way through the crowd. Several partygoers stopped to gape at her costume … or lack thereof. A mix-up at the costume shop forced her to make do. Instead of the leafy bikini she’d ordered, she’d ended up with only a fake plastic snake and a shiny red plastic apple. Not very much of a costume.

Luckily she was an artist, if a bit of an underpaid one, and a stroke of ingenuity led her to paint on her costume. It was a very Playboy bunny thing to do. Although she’d sworn never to take her clothes off again to make a buck, five hundred dollars for a few hours of dancing was an offer she couldn’t refuse.

Unfortunately it was hard as hell to paint one’s own backside, so she’d had to call in a favor from a friend. Shazzer was a decent painter, more than capable of slapping on some green paint and glitter to cover Eve’s ass.

“Knock ’em dead, girl.” With a wave, Shaz headed for her own cage.

Eve gazed at the other three cages, seeking the one she was supposed to dance in. With a groan, she caught sight of a very familiar male body cavorting a few feet above her head.

The Lovers by Emilia Mancini:

Lea looked up at the Dacre House and smiled as anticipation coursed through her veins and settled in a tingling ball of fire between her legs. Some lucky son of a bitch in there would be thoroughly fucked by the time she got done with him.

She looked down and made sure the red corset she wore was aptly pushing her plump breasts up and out. It was tight around her abdomen, thinning her waist and emphasizing her hips, which were covered in a red latex miniskirt. Her red stiletto boots, which zipped from ankle to thigh, clicked as she sashayed her way toward the front steps.

The man at the door moaned in appreciation as she stopped in front of him. He gestured her in before she even showed him her invitation. “You can have whatever you want, baby,” he mumbled.

Her grin widened. She planned on having whatever she wanted. In whatever way she wanted it.

Lea paused in the foyer to glance in the tall mirror. Her golden locks were still perfectly curled and the little horns on her head were in the right place. It was early, but the ballroom was already abuzz with chatter and activity. There were four cages with dancers hanging high off the floor.

The Jack of Hearts by Jianne Carlo:

Ricco stared out the open window and willed Kata to walk through the gate.

He wouldn’t lose his mate twice.

Seth had won Kata once, but he was long dead and buried, and all bets and rules were off.

The gas lamp hanging from an iron post just inside the award-winning front garden of Dacre House highlighted the raven-blue woven into the fibers on the black hood and long cloak Kata wore. The cape swirled around her ankles, and the ancient iron creaked in a drawn out protest when she shoved the gate open.

He tracked her steps and inhaled the musk of her desire mingled with the night-blooming jasmine. He hadn’t been certain she’d come after their confrontation earlier today.

Kata climbed the stairs, her feet dragging as if she was about to put her neck on the guillotine block.

Ricco’s mouth watered. His canines tingled and his gums ached with the need to claim.

The door opened and the doorman said, “Card.”

Her graceful fingers reached under the cloak, and she opened her hand to display half of a torn tarot card. The half that matched his, the Jack of Hearts.

Strength of a Lion by Lynn Lorenz – Excerpt:

Leon Manx stood in the corner of the large front parlor of the Ducre mansion and watched the Halloween partygoers. In front of him, costumed couples danced to the pounding music, dressed in everything from a nun in a mini-skirted habit and black fishnet stockings to a Mexican wrestler including the skeleton lycra mask.

His own costume, a big game hunter, was a last minute decision and a bit ironic, like his sense of humor. He’d enjoyed the joke, but now he was here, Leon might have made a deadly mistake coming to the party.

Perhaps for him and perhaps for whoever thought he or she could f**k with Leon.

He’d received the invite, one half of a Tarot card, three days ago, not in the mail, but in an envelope slipped under the door of his uptown shotgun house. The torn card and a business card with the date, time and address of the party.

Meet your mate had been printed on a small card included in the envelope.

Some would look at it as just an invitation to a Halloween party. Leon took it as a warning, a threat, to his very existence.

The Wheel of Fortune by Monette Michaels

Brendan Cooper adjusted the gaudy vest across his chest and the saber in his belt for what had to be the hundredth time that evening. Yes, he represented The Sultan’s Favorites Sex Toys. Yes, he’d been asked to host a sex toy party at this exclusive Halloween party at Dacre House. And, yes, the sheik costume was appropriate … but he didn’t have to like it―any of it.

If he hadn’t been the classic starving, deeply-in-debt, just-out-of-the-military graduate student, then he wouldn’t be here. But he was … so he was.

The best part of this gig was all the sales he’d made tonight; the worst was he’d been as horny as hell the whole evening from observing―and listening to―his clientele testing toys and then using the ones they’d purchased.

The party host had thoughtfully provided tented chaises in the library for sex play. And Brendan had had a front row seat for every single second of the evening’s sexual activities. While he’d “scened” in BDSM clubs, he really wasn’t into being a voyeur; he liked his sex games to be private. But a job was a job, and he needed the money this one provided.

Two of Cups by Parker Kincade:

Mason hated the desert.

Other than being hot as the devil’s ass crack, he swore he’d never be rid of the sand that had worked its way into his skin. From the tiny grains that snuck into his boots each day to the dusting he swallowed off his coated lips each time he’d managed to stop long enough to eat. Hell, cut him and he’d probably bleed the shit.

One thing was for sure―he’d never long for a vacation on the beach again.

Under the cover of darkness, Mason dug in his heels and pushed himself up and over the jutted rock formation. He rolled to his belly and snaked around until he could see the roof of the compound below.

It had all come down to this.

He’d given up his life, his future, the woman he loved beyond measure—all because of the evil f**k bedded down in the building below.

Omar Travinskov was the scum of the earth as far as Mason was concerned. He traded in drugs, women, and children, and used all three at his leisure. Each time Mason, and the team of special operatives he’d been assigned to, had caught up to Omar, the bastard would slip through their fingers. Over and over.

Judgment Day by Rosanna Leo

Even from behind the closed salon door, Verity sensed him coming. Despite the party atmosphere in Dacre House, and the sounds of lusty revelers, she remained attuned to his particular footsteps. The determined thump of his footfall made her as excited now as it had three hundred odd years ago.

She perched on the edge of a velvet settee, crossing her leather-clad legs. And then, as she heard him reach the salon door, she decided against her pose and stood to reposition herself behind a scrolled chest of drawers. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she stood up straight and gazed toward the door, her heart heavy with anticipation. As much as she wanted to present a brave face, standing behind the bulky piece of furniture made her feel safe. In her hand, she gripped half of a tarot card as if it were a map leading to buried treasure. She glanced at the card.

Judgment Day. How appropriate.

So long. So very long. How had she existed all this time without him? Of course, she thought bitterly, it wasn’t as if she’d ever had a choice. He’d turned her away every time she’d pleaded with him over the past three centuries, a victim to his all-consuming guilt.

Two of Wands by Vanessa North:

When I say my best friend Pierre is “not my type,” I don’t mean I’m not interested in completely hot, slightly-fem, Creole twinks with lips for days and the roundest perkiest little asses on the planet. ’Cause that’s kind of exactly my type.

When I say Pierre is “not my type,” I don’t mean I’m not interested in the kind of guys who bring you coffee just because and also sometimes fold your underwear because you left it in the dryer. ’Cause that’s kind of also my type.

When I say Pierre is “not my type,” it’s not because I don’t love it when he comes over a week before Halloween with a bag of feathers, a million yards of tulle, and a sewing machine, strips down to skivvies and says, “Cher, I need you.”

It’s one hundred percent self-preservation. Pierre is not my type.

So, since I’ve known him since grade school and we were the only two out queers at our high school and we roomed on the same hall at Tulane—and not because he’s my type—I let him set up his sewing machine on my kitchen table and I get him a cup of coffee, and bless my own rotten heart, I ask him what’s the matter.

Have a great weekend and enjoy the FREE read!

Cheers,

Jianne

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Author Parker Kincade’s Shadow of Sin Release Contest!

November 13, 2013 by 2 Comments

It’s my pleasure to host author Parker Kincade. Parker and I met in Shreveport, Louisiana at a romance conference, and we hit it off right away. Little did I know that we’d be blogging buddies at Love, Lust, and Laptops a couple of months later. Today Parker celebrates her latest release, Shadow of Sin – take it away Parker!

ShadowofSin_final_200x300Shadow of Sin

By Parker Kincade

Tagline

When the past won’t die…

Blurb

A man determined to protect her…

Caleb Martin is no stranger to hazardous situations. He’s seen enough bloodshed to last two lifetimes. When an innocent evening takes a dangerous turn, Caleb takes matters into his own hands. If she wants his help, it’s his rules, his way. Period.

A woman who won’t be controlled…

When it comes to relationships, Samantha keeps things casual, unassuming. Safe. Caleb Martin is far from safe. His ‘my way or the highway’ attitude pushes all the wrong buttons, and she’d sworn no man would have that kind of power over her again.

A hunger that won’t be denied…

Protecting Samantha from the man that stalks her shouldn’t test his patience—or his control—but her smart mouth and hot Irish temper stoke the fuel of his desire. She is pure sin—a distraction he doesn’t need, a temptation he can’t resist.

Despite their animosity, Caleb has starred in her fantasies for years. His ruthless sensuality proves to be more potent than she ever imagined. As Caleb masters her body, Samantha must keep a tight grip her heart.

Buy Links

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Sin-Martin-Family-Book-ebook/dp/B00GG7PBNM/

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shadow-of-sin-parker-kincade/1117325042?ean=2940148884026

All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-shadowofsinthemartinfamilybook2-1338020-149.html

Author Bio and Links

Parker Kincade is the award-winning erotic romance author of The Martin Family Series. Her first novel, One Night Stand, won the 2013 Reader’s Crown Award for Best First Book, the category of Best Erotic Romance in the Celtic Hearts Romance Writers Golden Claddagh contest and was named finalist in the Romance Writers of America/Passionate Ink Stroke of Midnight contest.

Parker lives in the southern United States with her husband, children and beloved boxer sidekick. She loves reading, playing golf, spending time with her family and friends, ice cream from the ice cream truck, taking her dog to the park and watching old musicals.

Contact Info:

Website: http://www.parkerkincade.com

Blog: http://www.parkerkincade.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/parkerkincade

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/parkerkincade

Group Blog: http://www.lovelustandlaptops.wordpress.com

Excerpt

He turned to her. Heat pooled in her stomach as his gaze traveled slowly, deliberately, from her face. He seemed to take in every inch of her before stopping to linger over her bare legs. “I don’t sleep much. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t.” The devil in her insisted she cross her legs, exposing more of her thigh to his view. She enjoyed his eyes on her, as if he saw the woman she was instead of the pain in his ass he’d claimed her to be. She was tempting fate, knowing that any second he’d remember who she was and that look in his eye would change.

For now, she’d use any means to distract him from his pain. Her pain would come later, when she was alone again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Why you’re still up.”

He chucked a thumb at the windows. “Daytime.”

She clamped her mouth shut before she said something she’d regret. And he thought she was stubborn. She pulled in a slow, steady breath. “True, but barely. On a normal day, I wouldn’t be up yet.”

“Exactly. Go. Rest.” He closed his eyes as if to shut her out.

She could feel his irritation, but, this time, it wasn’t directed at her. It gave her hope as she pressed on.

“Are you hungry? I could make us some breakfast. If you don’t mind me searching through your fridge, I’m sure I could find something edible.” In fact, she’d been surprised at the amount of food she’d seen. She’d half expected him to only have beer and water and maybe a stray bottle of ketchup. Like Alec’s fridge.

“For the love of christ, what do you want? I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to talk.” He sighed, apparently resigned to her company a few minutes more. “What do you want, Samantha?”

Right now? To slap the shit out of you.

Hurt invaded her chest as she stared back at him. Gone was the pain she’d seen earlier, as well as the male interest. What remained was the Caleb she knew. Cold, hard, angry.

She shoved the hurt away and bit back the sharp retort he deserved. She softened her features, allowing herself to appear vulnerable. It wasn’t much of a stretch. “Can I stay with you?”

 * * *

 Caleb jerked, surprised by her request. “That’s not a good idea.”

Even as he said the words, his cock came to life. It seemed the lower half of his body thought it was a very good idea. And seeing her in nothing but his T-shirt wasn’t helping. Jesus, he hoped she had panties on under there. A bigger, harder, part of him hoped that she didn’t.

Samantha shifted, exposing more of her delectable thighs. “It’s not like I’m asking you to get a root canal. You can wipe that horrified look off your face.”

Caleb checked his expression, doing his best to appear calm, bored even. She’d surprised the hell out of him, coming in his room like she had.

He was angry. Angry with himself and the past that wouldn’t free him. Angry at her for being here, for looking as if she belonged here. This was his space, damn it. How was he supposed to relax with her prancing around half naked, knowing she’d pleasured herself and called his name?

He wasn’t stupid. He suspected it was his fault she was awake, and now she was here—checking on him as if he was a child who needed coddling. He didn’t need coddling. His body demanded the satisfaction that would only come from pounding his aching flesh deep into her soft, wet pussy.

As tempting as that idea may be, he was still trying to wrap his head around how he felt about her.

“You’re tired. You don’t know what you’re asking.” And he couldn’t think straight. He was low on sleep and even lower on patience. He shoved his hands into his hair and blew out a breath. “You can’t be in here. Go back to bed.” Before he forgot all the reasons he shouldn’t f**k her silly.

“Why did I think… God, I’m such an —” She closed her mouth, her lips drawn into a thin, tight line. Her cheeks flushed as she advanced on him. “I’m sick of you judging me. Telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. If you hadn’t noticed, my night sucked. Hell, the last year has sucked. So, you can shove your overinflated male ego up your own ass. I’m not asking you to have sex with me for chrissake.” She stumbled back and planted her butt on the edge of the bed. “Just for once, Caleb, can’t you set aside your feelings? Forget your stupid sense of responsibility where I’m concerned and just be here for me like a normal person?”

What the f**k?

“My stupid sense of what?”

The laugh that escaped her lips made him uneasy.

“You heard me, horseman.” She eased back to her feet and sauntered toward him. “You think I don’t know how you feel about me? Let me see … troublemaker, instigator, bad influence.” She ticked off the words on her fingers. “Oh, and my personal favorite … menace. Really, Caleb. Menace? That’s a little strong don’t you think?” She fisted her hands on her hips, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I know you don’t like me. If it weren’t for Amanda and Alec, I wouldn’t be here and we both know it.” Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as she glared at him. “And I’m sick of being your charity case.”

Caleb fought the urge to look away. She hadn’t lied about the words he’d uttered to describe her over the years, but to have them slung back at him just pissed him off.

“You want to know what I’m sick of, Samantha? I’m sick of you pushing my buttons. I’m sick of your stubborn-assed attitude when it comes to your own safety and I’m f**king sick and tired of you calling me horseman!” His shout rattled the windows, but he didn’t care. He was on a roll now, like a f**king train wreck, unable to stop.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared down at her. “If you and Amanda hadn’t decided the woods were the best place to partake in a little underage drinking, the boys and I wouldn’t have had to saddle up to go find your drunk asses before some wild animal made you a snack. Did you ever think of that, Samantha? During your little adventure with my baby sister, did you stop to consider the consequences? Do you ever?”

Samantha made a noise of disgust and stormed from the room. “This is what I get for trying to be nice,” she yelled.

Caleb went after her, following her into the spare room. “Nice? Nice?” The floodgates were open, his anger and frustration leaving any sense of self-preservation in the dust. “You think calling us the horsemen of the apocalypse is nice? Is that fun for you? Because all it does is remind me of being scared out of my ever-loving mind that something was going to … that Amanda …” No, he wasn’t going back there.

Not. Going. There.

“And as for my stupid sense of responsibility, I protect what’s mine, damn it!”

Samantha’s sharp intake of breath drifted through his angry haze and punched him in the gut. She sank back to the bed and wiped the tear that escaped the corner of her eye.

It was like ice water to his soul.

This woman tested his restraint. No other woman, save his sister, had ever pushed him so hard. It was infuriating and intoxicating at the same time. She left him off balance, out of control—two things that spelled disaster where he was concerned.

Caleb ran his hands through his hair, settling his palms on the back of his neck.

“Samantha.”

His heart skipped a beat as emotion played out on her face. Sadness, regret, and finally … resolve.

“Get out.” Her voice was soft. “God, what was I thinking? Just get out.”

He stood there, unable to move as he struggled to comprehend the vulnerability pouring out of her. His gaze traveled over the delicate features of her face, the line of her shoulders. The rise of her breasts, her slim waist, and long legs. Her feet were bare. Her toenails were painted a rich red that spoke of fire. Passion.

She shifted on the bed and winced, making him feel like a total ass. Again. Her night had sucked. With her tough-as-nails attitude, Caleb hadn’t considered she might actually need comforting.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll stay.”

Her eyes, blue and blazing, snapped up. “Of course you will. Because why in the hell would you listen to me?”

“You asked me to stay.”

“I asked you to leave.”

“As you so diligently pointed out earlier, I don’t listen.” And he still had things to say.

She rubbed her temples, as if their argument had given her a headache. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Samantha. Look at me.” When she didn’t move, he crouched in front of her. He tilted her chin until she looked at him. “I don’t dislike you. I need you to know that.”

She offered him a sad smile. “The gesture is appreciated, Caleb. Thank you.” She pulled her face away.

Refusing to let her retreat, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her face. Soft, warm skin greeted his palm. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, amazed by its smoothness. “It’s the truth. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean —”

She put a finger to his lips and he barely resisted the urge to open his mouth and taste her.

“Yes, you did. And it’s okay. We may not get along, but at least you’ve never lied to me. Please don’t start now. I’m a big girl, Caleb. I can take it. And I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for not considering your feelings where Amanda is concerned.”

Her touch rocked him. Revamped his desire to have her wet and screaming his name. “I’m sorry for all that.” He offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m so used to you calling me horseman now, I’m afraid I’d never answer to anything else from your lips.” Those sweet, succulent lips. “What is it about you that makes me so crazy?” he murmured.

She chuckled. “I’m too tired to fight anymore, Caleb. The best course of action would be to find the evidence I need to bury Matteo. Then we can move on.”

The mention of her stalker snapped his brain back to attention. He had a job to do. Eliminate the threat and protect Samantha.

Best he remember that.

Distractions led to mistakes. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

He forced his voice level, undemanding. “It’d be a lot easier if you’d let us help. Let me help. Trust me to take care of this for you.”

Asking for her trust was a long shot. In truth, he probably didn’t deserve it. But, he had to try. Needed to try. He would protect her.

“Trust you?” She seemed to consider his words. After a moment, she surprised him by nodding. “I can’t promise miracles, but I’ll do my best to follow your lead … until this is over.”

Caleb resisted the insane urge to pump his fist in the air. “So, we have a deal then?”

She caressed her fingers over his jaw. He leaned into her gentle touch, feeling it all the way to his bones.

“Oh, now you’re willing to make deals?” She looked him dead in the eye. “All right then, but once Matteo is caught and the threat against me is gone? You’ll go on with your life and I’ll go on with mine, and hopefully, we can stay out of each other’s way. That’s the deal.”

She dropped her hand to her lap.

“After this, Caleb, we’re done.”

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