Love in The Cards – Free!

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