Friday, June 29, 2018

#Hotdad #Xcerpt Available NOW! A Single Dad firefighter BDSM Rom-com #NSFW

He's a firefighter, he's hot, he's single, he's HOT DAD and he's here to save the day, win your heart and put out a few fires along the way.



Since the moment I laid eyes on her I’ve wanted her.
But I wasn’t ready.
The kids were my world and my wounds were still raw.
For six months, I watched her from afar. Dreamed of her, lusted after her, fantasized…
But all that’s about to change. I’m finally ready to take the plunge and start dating again. And now that I know she’s single, I’m going to do this right and win Harper. I want her mind, I want her body, I want her heart.
And when she gives me all access, no limits, I know she’s the one for me.

He’s the one we all call Hot Dad at playgroup. The one who makes my knees weak and my panties wet every time he walks through the door. We all eye-fuck the bejesus out of him, and dream of his tongue between our legs.
But my kid is my world, and I’m a frumpy mom with a hole in the bum of her yoga pants. What could he ever see in me? So when Sam calls out of the blue, I’m stunned.
Now if only the kids can stop cock-blocking us, and his psycho ex would go away.
He’s turned out to be a master Dom and I’m willing and eager to be taught how to be the perfect little submissive.


I was sitting up in Harper’s bed looking around her room. It was a nice room. On the smaller side, but she’d managed to keep the furniture sparse but tasteful to make the room seem bigger. All the furniture was bright white, done in that new shabby chic style that seemed to be sweeping the nation. And the colors reflected those of the living room, lots of yellows and turquoise and white. It was bright and cheery, just like her. She’d heard a noise from Carly’s room so had ducked out to check on her, as well as turn off the television and grab us some water. My head shook and I smiled. I couldn’t get the image of her bound and moaning on the edge of the bed out of my head. She was just so responsive. And fucking tight, holy hell was she ever tight. My cock stirred beneath the sheet at the thought of her pussy gripping it like a fist. All hot and wet and—
“What’s got you smiling like that?”
I popped my head up from where I’d been staring at the slowly rising tent over my johnson to flash her a big smile. “You.”
She blushed a hard red but hid it with a melodic hum. “Mmm.”
She climbed onto the bed, flashing me a bit of leg through the slit of her baby blue satin thigh-high robe as she kneeled beside me and handed me a glass of water. I thanked her. “I can’t stop myself from smiling when I think about you and … what we just did, either.”
She slipped off the robe and let it fall to the floor before snuggling up next to me.
Taking a sip of my water, I studied her for a moment. Her hair was all mussed up from having been forced against the bed in one fashion or another, her eyes bright but also showing signs of fatigue, and those heart-shaped pouty lips of hers were puffy and a tad bruised. I hoped she had bruises elsewhere, like the inside of her thighs and maybe some red welts or lines on her gorgeous ass.
Her eyes glanced down to where my cock was standing at full attention now beneath the covers.
“Again?” she asked, her eyelids drooping to half-mast.
I put my water glass on her nightstand, took her glass and did the same. She was beneath me in seconds. I smoothed the hair back from her face. “I promised you hard and fast, slow and gentle, then any way you wanted it. Didn’t I?”
That tongue. As it darted out and ran between the seam of her swollen lips, I lunged forward and sucked it into my mouth. I devoured her startled gasp as I kneed her legs apart and ground my erection against her mound. I knew I’d hit her clit when a cry broke free from her lips.
“C-condom,” she stammered as her head tilted back against the pillow and she closed her eyes and thrust up into me.
“Not yet. Slow and gentle, remember? I plan to savor you.” I nuzzled her neck, allowing my mouth to travel languidly around her collarbone and chest, dropping warm, wet kisses over her searing hot skin. It was so soft, she was so soft. Curvy and feminine but also fit and muscular. She was all woman. Dipping my head, I drew a hard nipple into my mouth and sucked.
She inhaled. “Yesssss,” she hissed. “Oh God. Green.”
I chuckled. Such a good little submissive.
Shifting the tight bud to my teeth, I tugged up harder, clamping down just enough to cause a flash of pain to roll through her. She whimpered, but she didn’t tell me to stop. She smelled incredible, like sweat and sex and Harper, just a hint of spiced ginger. I inhaled her scent and released her sensitive nub from my teeth, running my nose up her neck. Her pulse beat quickly. I nipped her earlobe.
“Sam … ” she whispered as she ran her fingernails down my back and gripped my ass cheeks. “What if I don’t want slow and gentle?”
“I told you, whatever you want is next. Save the best for last. But right now I want to take my sweet time with your body. I want to run my tongue over every inch.” My lips drifted across her cheeks, and I pecked her on the nose. Hovering above her, I looked down into her beautiful golden-brown eyes. She blinked up at me in wonder. Smiling, I pecked her nose again. “I’ve been curious to find out if you had anything else pierced.”
A sassy smile caught on her lips, and she dug her nails harder into my ass. I flexed the cheeks, and we both laughed.
“I’ve thought about getting my tongue done, but I chicken out every time they bring out that giant needle. And as far my nipples or the other place,” her eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline, “yikes!”
I rocked against her clit, and she pushed her hips up to meet me. “I’ve heard a clit piercing can make sex all the more pleasurable.”
Like the bloody Flash, her hand snaked its way between us, and she tugged on my shaft. “You get the head of this sucker pierced and I’ll pierce my clit. Deal?”
I kissed her nose piercing again. “Ah, I think this little stud is just right. No need to go poking holes in things that don’t need them.”
Her giggle was warm against my cheek. “Chicken.”
I pinched her nipple until she squeaked. “I’ll show you who’s a chicken, woman.” I grabbed her by the elbows and hauled her arms over her head, pinning her hands into the pillows with one of mine. I held her there and gazed down. Pink bloomed on her cheeks and hunger swirled in her eyes. One hard kiss on her lips, and I dipped my head again and tugged a nipple into my mouth. Gently, but not without pressure, I scissored my teeth back and forth across her flesh. She sucked in air as she wriggled beneath me. Soft and feminine whimpers escaped her as I continued on with my torture. I kept her in place and worshiped her body with my mouth. Kisses and nibbles, licks and pecks. I raked my teeth across her ribs and under the gentle swell of her breasts until she bowed her back, shut her eyes, clenched her jaw and let out a growl of frustration as her hips pressed up to meet mine. I pulled away, lingering just above her.
“Too slow and gentle for your liking?”
“Yes,” she panted. “Sam … we’ve been cock-blocked so much, don’t waste time. You never know when Carly is going to wake up.”
She had a point. But I didn’t want it to all be over, either.
“Please, sir … fuck me?” She fluttered those damn eyelashes at me like some sexy little schoolgirl, and my cock grew longer and thicker against my stomach. I glanced down between us, and a drop of pre-cum beaded on the head of my dick. She followed my gaze. “Can I lick it off?”
Oh hell yes. Releasing her hands, I pulled her up so she was sitting. I leaned back on my heels and grabbed the base of my shaft.
“Suck it, baby. Suck it hard. I’ve thought of nothing but your lips wrapped around my cock since our phone sex date. I want to feel the real thing.”
With big wide doll eyes, she parted her lips, taking me to the back of her throat. And then she started to hum.
The woman was fucking humming.
Oh dear lord. 

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Wednesday, June 27, 2018

#Hotdad #Xcerpt Coming June 29th A Single Dad firefighter BDSM Rom-com #funandflirty

Coming to Amazon and KU
Pre-order Now



Since the moment I laid eyes on her I’ve wanted her.
But I wasn’t ready.
The kids were my world and my wounds were still raw.
For six months, I watched her from afar. Dreamed of her, lusted after her, fantasized…
But all that’s about to change. I’m finally ready to take the plunge and start dating again. And now that I know she’s single, I’m going to do this right and win Harper. I want her mind, I want her body, I want her heart.
And when she gives me all access, no limits, I know she’s the one for me.


He’s the one we all call Hot Dad at playgroup. The one who makes my knees weak and my panties wet every time he walks through the door. We all eye-fuck the bejesus out of him, and dream of his tongue between our legs.
But my kid is my world, and I’m a frumpy mom with a hole in the bum of her yoga pants. What could he ever see in me? So when Sam calls out of the blue, I’m stunned.
Now if only the kids can stop cock-blocking us, and his psycho ex would go away.
He’s turned out to be a master Dom and I’m willing and eager to be taught how to be the perfect little submissive.

Fun and Flirty Excerpt
“You still there?” he asked.
Oh crap, how long had I been silent?
“Yup,” I said with a mouthful.
“What are you doing? You sound funny.”
“Eating a banana.”
Now it was his turn for silence.
“Seriously?” he finally asked.
“Whole, or did you cut it up into pieces first?”
Holy freaking frack, he’s flirting with me!
His chuckle swept over my skin as if he’d just licked each and every inch of it. Divine heat pooled between my legs, and I felt my nipples tighten against my bra. I resisted the urge to reach up and cup them to relieve the sudden strain of their weight.
“What are your plans this weekend, Harper?”
“Um …”
“Banana in your mouth?”
I swallowed and blinked.
“Mhmm. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Swallow.”
Holy Mother of God, him telling me to swallow … my heart nearly leaped clean out of my chest.
“I guess I should probably double-check first that you are in fact single. That you’re not seeing someone but just haven’t bothered to let your friend Amy know.”
Amy! I could kiss that meddling little woman.
“Yes. Yes, I’m single.”
“Good. Me too.” I could practically see that sexy smile of his it came through so clearly in his voice.
“Well, Harper, would you like to go out with me this weekend?”
I nodded and then did a little hop. My pulse was racing and my brain was struggling to keep up. I was planning a date with Hot Dad! “When? What time?”
“How does Friday around seven sound?” 
Yes, woman. Say YES!
“You can think it over if you need some—”
But I cut him off. “I’d love to!”
“Great! So, Friday at seven?”
“Perfect. Text me your address, and I’ll swing by to pick you up. How does dinner and a movie sound?”
“Sounds great!” Oh shit, my voice was getting higher. Had he noticed?

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Sunday, June 24, 2018

#Sale: DOUBLE DARE is only 99¢ for a limited time by Jeanne St. James

*** SALE ALERT ***


Double Dare
(The Dare Ménage Series, book 1)

by USAT bestselling author Jeanne St. James

(Normally $3.99)

Genres: Interracial, MMF ménage, contemporary romance (LGBTQ)


What could be better than waking up next to a hot guy? Waking up sandwiched between two of them.
Quinn Preston, a financial analyst, is not happy when her friends dare her to pick up a handsome stranger at a wedding reception. What better reason to give up men when her previous long-term relationship had not only been lackluster in the bedroom but he had cheated?

Logan Reed, a successful business owner, can't believe that he's attracted to the woman in the ugly, Pepto-Bismol pink bridesmaid dress. And to boot, she's more than tipsy. After turning down her invitation for a one-night stand, he finds her in the parking lot too impaired to drive. He rescues her and takes her home. His home.

The next morning Quinn's conservative life turns on its ear when Logan introduces her to pleasures she never even considered before. And to make things more complicated, Logan already has a lover.

Tyson White, ex-pro football player, is completely in love with Logan. He has mixed emotions when Logan brings home Quinn. But the dares keep coming...

Note: This book in the series can be read as standalone. It includes an HEA ending. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes MMF scenes between all three characters.

Friday, June 22, 2018

#FirstChapterFriday: TEMPTING HIM (An Obsessed Novella) by Jeanne St. James #BDSM #Excerpt

Tempting Him (An Obsessed Novella)
By Jeanne St. James

Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, BDSM

Add it to your Goodreads TBR list:


It’s not just a love story, it’s an obsession...


Every time my neighbor jogs past my house, I do my best to tempt him. Washing my car, watering my lawn, doing yoga in the grass with all my assets in the air. I’m not sure if he notices me, but I sure can’t miss him.
Then one day he falls... into my arms and into my bed. Surprisingly, we’re better matched than I would’ve expected. But when he reveals who he is, my world comes crashing down around me because if he finds out my secret we’re finished before we’ve even begun.


Three days a week, I put myself through hell by jogging through my neighborhood. I suffer through it simply to catch a glimpse of a woman I don’t know. Every time I pass her house she’s outside tempting me. Until one day I fall... over my feet, over my heart, over this woman and into her arms.
I know nothing about her, but I want to discover everything. Even her deepest, darkest secrets. However, little does she know, I have one, too. One that may sever the tie that binds us.


Chapter One

I watch as sweat drips one bead at a time onto my over-priced yoga mat. The sun is so freaking hot and here I am, like an idiot out in my yard, bent over in the downward facing dog pose for the past million years. Okay, not years... maybe more like a million seconds. But my body has decided it hates me (nothing new) and is cramping while my head spins. Even better, my over-priced yoga pants have clawed their way up my crack (as well as one other place). And still...
No neighbor.
What the hell?
Despite my eyeballs’ attempt at bulging out of their sockets, I peek at my sports watch. He should’ve been by here two-point-five minutes ago.
The man is usually like clockwork, jogging by my house on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons every week. For the most part, anyway. Though, thunderstorms seem to discourage him from his cardio. (Not sure why.)
On those days, I would be willing to recommend another type of cardio to get his heart pumping. And maybe get his hips pumping, too.
Anyway... look at me! Doing yoga on my front lawn, on the uneven grass, waiting like a desperate woman. (I’m not, really, I promise! It just looks that way.)
But, damn, the man is fine and when he jogs past shirtless, he’s shiny with sweat, which makes me want to drag him inside and give him a sponge bath with my tongue.
My thighs start shaking as I peek between my spread legs, because, of course, my ass has to be facing the street. I want him to get a good look at what I’m offering.
I may even wiggle it a little when he jogs by.
That is if I don’t pass out into a heap first.
I sigh.
Then sigh again a little louder just for good measure.
Maybe it would be easier if I just took up jogging. Wear one of those sexy sports bras, put my hair up in a cute little pony tail, plaster a smile on my face and follow him around the block at a perky pace.
I’ll die first.

Why I ever started this shit, I’ll never know. No, I lie. I know. I thought, “Cade, dude, wouldn’t it be great to up your cardio game and start running?”
I answered myself with, “Yeah, man, that would be great and fun, too!” And then maybe I won’t get so winded when I play basketball with the guys. I’ll have more endurance, I’ll look and feel younger, and...
Fuck that.
Running sucks. And I don’t even think what I do can be considered as running. No, it’s more of a jog. Or a lope. Or trotting like a donkey with a lame hoof.
Inhell. Exhell.
My chest burns, my leg muscles spasm, my balls feel like they’re floating in a puddle of sweat, and the crack of my ass...
I’m not even going there. (Trust me, you don’t want to, either.)
So, why don’t I just stop the torture? (Good question!)
I’ve asked myself that for the past month.
And the answer has always been...
I sacrifice three days a week just to see a woman I don’t know.
Not sure why, but she always seems to be outside at the same time of the day. For that reason, I make sure that’s when I go running (jogging, trotting, limping) by.
Am I crazy to torture myself because I find someone attractive and I’d like to get her attention?
Eh. Maybe.
Why don’t I just knock on her door and ask her out? (Another good question.)
Maybe I want to impress her with my physique and athletic prowess.
But honestly, something has to give and it has to be soon. Because this running shit sucks balls and I’d rather stick razor blades under my fingernails.
At least my slow trot is the right speed to observe her without being creepy. Walking would be too slow and obvious. Driving too quick and useless, not to mention dangerous when she’s clearly a distraction.
And, of course, my pace always allows me enough time to enjoy the show she gives me.
On Wednesday, she was out washing her car, her top soaked, her nipples pushing through the thin fabric of her shirt, and when she bent over to scrub the hood of said car, my boner just about popped out of my shorts. You know, those little nylon running shorts. The ones with the mesh liner, clearly not made for sexual arousal.
But I digress.
The week before, she was out watering her lawn. And, once again, her top was wetter than her grass.
Here’s the thing, the entire neighborhood has built-in sprinklers.
Maybe hers are broken.
It’s possible.
I grunt as I turn the corner and try to push myself a little faster since I’m off my game today. I’m later than normal, and I want my running to look as effortless as possible. It needs to look as though I’ve got my shit together and I’m not secretly suffering.
My eyes swing to the left as I jog. She’s the fourth house up. The brick ranch home with the two-car garage.
Two houses to go yet.
One house.
My eyes widen as I see her ass in tight black yoga pants in the air. My step stutters but I can’t stop my momentum.
My mouth becomes an O, partly because I’m falling over my own two feet, the other because she’s dropped to her knees and is now arching backwards grabbing onto her heels, her generous tits straining against her top.
Last thing I see is her blinking upside down at me as her head hangs down her back.
Suddenly, I’m staring at nothing but pavement (and my loss of manhood). The little bit of oxygen I had sucked into my lungs is now gone.
Then, what seems like seconds later, bare, cute, red painted toes come into view.
I want to just die.
So much for impressing her. That’s been completely shot to hell. I just want to crawl away on my hands and skinned knees to go hide in a bush.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her hand on my shoulder, sounding concerned. Which touches me. But, that’s not the touch I need from her.
I raise my eyes from the toes I want to suck, up those snug yoga pants, and I hesitate when I get to the V of her legs.
I have a feeling she’s not wearing panties.
“Can you stand?”
Jesus. I should respond. I can’t just pretend none of this happened. Or could I?
“Yeah,” I say, but it sounds more breathless (and unmanly) than I’d like. Like I’m out of shape or something.
Can’t be. I run three days a week.
Suddenly, I realize I’m still staring at her crotch. Not cool. I reluctantly lift my eyes over the snug sports top she’s wearing and hesitate for a brief, pervy second on the hard beads of her nipples. I finally continue on, no wait... one more peek. Okay, I lift my gaze to her face and notice she’s biting her bottom lip and her eyes are crinkled at the corners like she’s trying hard not to laugh.
Because me falling over myself is a laughing matter, right?
Maybe I should start laughing and we both can guffaw, and then I can go limp home and lock myself inside until I find my lost manhood again.
“Need a hand?”
A hand. A mouth. A...
“No, thank you,” I answer and try to prove it by pushing myself back onto my feet. This time I want to stay vertical.
When her gorgeous sky-blue eyes travel over my body, I have to assume she’s searching for injuries. And I stand there like a dummy as she studies my chest (which I’m hoping doesn’t appall her), runs her gaze over my shorts (I hope my chubby is not detectable) and then down my legs, which are my best feature (if I say so myself) since I do a lot of squats (hey, at least it’s not running).
When she gasps, I look down. Maybe she’s impressed with my monster cock. But no... she’s staring at my knees. Without warning, she squats down and puts her hands on my thighs. “You’re bleeding.”
I stare at the top of her blonde head, which is way too close to my package. If she doesn’t get to her feet and take her hands off my legs, she’s going to get a face full of my unruly erection.
 But she’s right, my knees are bleeding, though it’s nothing life-threatening. “It’s nothing. I can go—”
She suddenly pops up, eyes wide. “Oh no, let me take care of that for you. I have a first aid kit in the house.”
Suddenly, I picture her in this white, tight, short nurses uniform (the old style with the skirt – remember those?), with white stockings and everything. (Well, except for the matronly shoes. She’s wearing three-inch stilettos in my little fantasy.)
Then BAM...
My half-mast becomes a full-blown hard-on.
“Come on,” she urges as she lays a hand on my arm. I stare at her delicate fingers wrapped around my bicep and discover her fingernails are painted the same color as her cute little toes.
I realize how badly I want those nails to be raking my back and digging into my ass while she’s encouraging me to fuck her harder.
Holy hell, I have just fallen into a deep well of depravity.
I follow her anyway. She’s tempted me for weeks. And I finally have an “in,” even if it’s me being a klutz.
As she guides me toward her front door, she tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder as she says, “I’m Skylar.”
It fits her and her sky-blue eyes.
I clear my throat, because when I answer her, I want to sound much manlier than earlier. “Kincade.”
She smiles over her shoulder at me and I just about trip again.
Now, why did I just give her my full name which I never use? Ah, because all the blood in my brain has now pooled in my cock, that’s why. “Please... just call me Cade.”
“Cade,” she murmurs as she pushes open her front door and, letting go of my arm, she steps inside and moves out of the way enough to let me pass.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the change in lighting, but while I’m doing that, she shuts (and locks!) the door behind me.
When I glance around the foyer, I discover her house is set up just like mine, as is probably most of the houses in this neighborhood since they were all built around the same time, by the same builder.
Because of that, I know exactly where her master bedroom is. Which doesn’t help the blood flow to my cock. Not to mention, the lack of vital blood to my brain.
Then I realize neither of us have moved. I glance over my shoulder and she’s leaning against the door, eyeing me up like I’m a medium-rare filet mignon at a Ruth Chris steak house.
“You’ve got a really nice ass,” she murmurs.
I slowly turn to face her, trying to keep the shock of her comment from my face.
Ah fuck it... “So do you.”
“Do you like ass play?”
I blink. “Sorry. What?” A pain shoots through my brain as it explodes.
“Ass play.”
Holy shit. Am I hearing things? I shake myself mentally, and it seems maybe I need to clean out my ears.
I try to swallow, but my Adam’s apple sort of sticks in my throat. “Ass play,” I repeat, trying to keep my cool.
 Here I thought she was going to clean up my skinned knees. However, ass play sounds so much better than alcohol wipes, antibiotic ointment and Band-Aids.
She’s waiting for my answer.
“I... uh... I don’t not like it,” I respond, wondering where she’s going with this conversation.
“Giving or receiving?” She pushes off the door and I automatically step back. Though, I have no idea why. She looks harmless...
“I’m not sure why—”
She tilts her head toward my shorts. “You must be having the same thoughts that I am since you’re as hard as a rock under those silky short shorts of yours.”
I stop my hand from heading in that direction since I don’t need to feel it to know how hard I am at that moment. I don’t need to see it. And, apparently, I can’t hide it, either.
 No matter what, my first thought was not the same as hers. Ass play certainly hadn’t entered my brain until she mentioned it.
However, I must admit, now it’s stuck there.

“Come with me.” Her words come out so huskily that I’m suddenly willing to do any ass play she wants. Even if I’m on the receiving end.

About the Author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here:

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