All the Decadent Divas welcome back, Desiree Holt! Woo Hoo!!!
SEALs have become such a romantic figure, totally masculine, very
patriotic, taking great chances to serve our country and very sexy to
boot. Ride the Mustang is Book #1 in SEALs Going Hot, a series I
have written with Brenna Zinn, Cerise Deland and Samantha Cayto. Hope
you will be on the lookout for all of them.
Please leave a comment. One lucky person will win a $10 Amazon GC.
Two hot stories in one hot volume!!!
Back In The Saddle
When Molly Hayes' marriage fell apart, she ran home to Hayes Ranch to
lick her wounds. What she really wants to lick is foreman Chance McDaniel, the
star of all her erotic fantasies. But he had never given her the time of day.
Why would he give her his nights?
Kink is a mild term for the kind of sex Chance McDaniel enjoys. But
he's learned the hard way not all women can handle his darker desires. He aches
to give Molly the ride of her life but fears she'll shy away from his wilder
ways.
Will the past become a stumbling block or will both Molly and Chance,
once wounded, climb back in the saddle?
Eight Second Ride
Jessie Wade is a tough as nails sheriff until bull rider Kyle Mitchell
ends up in her jail. With his bone-melting good looks and seductive voice, he
knocks Jessie's defenses down one by one and awakens the sensuous woman she's
hidden beneath her uniform. But Jessie can't afford to be soft. Or allow
herself to fall for a cowboy who's never in one town longer than it takes to
ride a bull.
Kyle
never backs down from a challenge, but after a passionate night with Jessie, he
realizes there's a hell of a woman behind the handcuffs and badge. Can Kyle
convince Jessie he can take her for more than an eight-second ride?
Eight Second Ride
Kyle Mitchell wanted to pry his eyes open
but someone was pounding a drum inside his head so hard he was afraid to see
daylight. Not only that, but whatever he was lying on was harder than a
concrete floor and killing his back. He needed aspirin and coffee in large
supply. He tried to raise his hands to press them against his aching temples
but something jerked his right hand and prevented him from lifting it. Now he opened his eyes. And wished he
hadn’t.
Unfortunately this wasn’t the first jail
cell he’d been in, but he was pretty sure it was the worst. And he was pretty
sure it hadn’t been modernized in the last fifty years. One wall consisted of
the usual arrangement of bars with a portion of it hinged for a door. The
sleeping arrangement, rather than a crummy cot that would have been a vast
improvement, was a flat piece of wood with a mattress on it so thin he was sure
he’d be able to see through it. And it was the kind that pulled down from the
wall on chains.
And speaking of chain, he yanked at his
right hand again and discovered he was handcuffed to one length of chain.
Damn! What the hell had happened? What
had he gotten himself into now?
Squinting against the brightness of the
light from the ceiling lights he looked down the length of his body.
Boots. Check.
Jeans. Check.
He clapped his left hand over his waist
in a sudden panic.
Champion belt buckle! Okay! Check.
Shirt. Check.
He rubbed a hand over his square jaw,
feeling the stubble of yesterday’s beard growth. Testing everywhere on his face
he discovered his nose was tender but not broken, but the rest of his face felt
as if a bull had stomped on it.
Wait. Was that what had happened? The
last thing he remembered was lasting the full eight seconds on Sodbuster before
landing in the dirt of the rodeo arena. Everything else was a blur.
“Well. It looks like you’re finally
awake.”
The voice was pure
music, soft, with a faint drawl. Squinting through the bars he thought for a
minute his heart was going to stop beating. In the hallway looking in at him
was about five-foot-four of the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. Dark
blonde curls tumbled down to her shoulders, framing a lightly tanned face with
emerald green eyes peeking out from thick, thick lashes. The stiff fabric of
the uniform shirt she wore couldn’t conceal the lush ripeness of her breasts
any more than the pants hid her mouthwatering curves.
But what really shook him up was the star
gleaming from its place of prominence on her shirt, right over one of those
nicely rounded breasts.
Holy hell! This was the sheriff?
He looked at her and something inside
turned over. He had an urgent need to see this woman naked in his bed, but not
the way he did with the usual women he rolled in the sheets with. Not an
eight-second ride and done. No, even in his pitiful condition he could imagine
making slow, soul-searing love to her. Everything from his balls to his brain
went on instant alert.
Don't forget to leave a comment below and you could be the winner of a shiny new $10 Amazon GC!!!
Known
the world over as the oldest living author of erotic romance, and referred to
by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt
is three
times a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award (and a winner in 2014), a nominee for
a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart
of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award winner for
best BDSM book of the year, and winner of the Holt Medallion for Excellence in
Romance Literature. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The
Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA
Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times and numerous other
national and international publications.
“Desiree
Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more
fulfilling then the last.” (Romance
Junkies)
Learn more
about her and read her novels here:
www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor
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@desireeholt
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