Tag Archives: Undercover Lovers

Teaser “Tuesday”: Convicted by Dee Tenorio (Undercover Lovers)

Last be definitely not least, the fourth and final novella in Undercover Lovers is our exclusive excerpt today. It’s written by Dee Tenorio! I think Dee Tenorio is an incredibly underrated romance author, and often suggest her books to people. Especially ones that like contemporary romances. Stay tuned for a giveaway, and all. You likely all know it already, but the book blurb is as follows:

Who’s undercover?

Saffron Burton – Sensual food critic posing as just another customer
Tucker Lamb – Smooth as butter former conman posing as nerdy professor
Shane Madison – Dead sexy private eye posing as a Strippendale’s dancer
Katrina Killian – Brazenly sexual cop posing as a gang member

Four ultra-sexy stories by four great authors, with one theme!

Convicted by Dee Tenorio— Crusty sheriff Cade Evigan doesn’t date convicts, not even ones as irresistible as Katrina “K.K.” Killian. The woman may have gotten under his skin—and once, on the hood of his car—but the sultry biker had criminal written all over her. He has to stay away.

When the crap hits the fan and the case she’s been working on for two years cracks wide open, Katrina heads straight to the hills to protect the one man she cares about. But some temptations are impossible to resist and she knows if she stays with Cade for the night, odds are her cover isn’t the only thing getting blown…

“God, you say the sexiest things. Quick, say something else fun. How about, Grab your ankles, babe, I’m coming in for a landing.” Trina’s slow, dirty grin did terrible things to Cade’s self-control. She was always like this. Taking every little thing
and making it into something sexual, something that tempted him to laugh. Though he had to admit, he’d walked right into that one.

“We’re not having sex. Your clothes have blood on them and they’re cut up. Besides, I need to check you for any other injuries.”

“Aww, come on, Cade. You’re missing the point of the game. Hot to trot damsel-in-distress—”

“With bruised ribs.”

“—alone in a mountain cabin with inexplicably-single sex god—”

“Hardly.” There were plenty of explanations.

“Since I’m the only one of us who’s had sex with you, I don’t think you get a vote.”

He was not going to give her the smile she was hunting down. He couldn’t allow it. Trina collected his moments of weakness like a kid after baseball cards. But once they were hers, she cashed them in for pieces of his soul. He simply didn’t have enough left to let her play her games.

On the other hand, if she wanted to call him a sex god, who was he to argue?

“I’ll get you something to sleep in. While I do that, how about you get back to telling me what happened?” He got up off his knees, distancing himself from all that beautiful skin across her belly by heading to his chest of drawers on the other side of his bed, as many feet from her as the one room cabin would allow. Bruised or not, he’d never seen anything as tempting as her in his life.

“It’s pretty simple really. Carter has a delivery service up and down California. His crews pick up shipments of heroin in Tijuana, drive it up the Grapevine and drop it in Fresno for wider distribution. I was part of an infiltration team that fed into three different biker crews in California. Of the six of us, two have retired and three are dead. I’m the last one and none of us have managed to get enough evidence to knock out the main buyer pulling their strings. Or even find out who it is. My old partner cut off a major supplier last year, but he got made in the process and there were others just waiting to take the supplier’s place. All I know about the current ones is that they’re Colombian and about ten times more willing to kill than the last guy’s men. I was this close to getting what we needed and now there’s no way it can happen. If Frank or anyone else from Wheels of Pain finds me before I can reach my DEA handler, I’m dead.”

“You’re skipping something.” The sixth sense that had kept him alive in Afghanistan had a bead on Trina and her half-truths. It always had. Which was why he’d never been able to fully trust her. Want her, yes. Need her, even, but from the beginning he’d noticed the signs. The way she’d deflect by hitting on him. How she’d subtly look away before she talked. She had no trouble staring Carter in the eye as she lied to him—he’d seen her do it—but she couldn’t do it with him. It meant something that she almost never looked him in the eye anymore. Until now.

“Just that your department is corrupt.”

He snorted, reaching in for one of his T-shirts. “Tell me something I don’t know.” That was why Rick had asked him to join him in Marketta. Because he needed someone to watch his back. Only for Rick had Cade considered it, even if the Rick he’d found on arrival wasn’t quite the fun-loving kid he used to know.

He touched the plain cotton in the drawer, frowning at the texture. No, this wouldn’t work. He closed it slowly, listening to Trina shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Like him, she was too long-legged for it. There was no way to lay on it without bending a leg or letting something hang off it. Plus those cushions could support the Washington Monument without denting. No, she wouldn’t be able to sleep there and neither could he. She’d have to share the bed with him.

A pulse of dangerous elation danced through his veins.

Squelching it wasn’t even possible. A dead man would get excited about sharing a bed with a woman like her and for all that he’d tried to bury his emotions, he wasn’t dead. Unfortunately for him, no one drove that point home more than Katrina Killian.

From the start, she’d made him wish he could be different. Made him wish he was still the guy with all those hopes about changing the world and saving lives. The one who laughed easily and trusted. That guy had died with so many others, thousands of miles from here, under a killing sun that never seemed to set, in sands that never seemed able to satisfy its thirst for blood. He’d let him die, purposely burying his soul so he could survive. So he could wake up day after day and not hate himself for being able to walk away.

With her, though, he not only could feel, he felt too much. He had no choice about it. At first he’d fought it. Resented her slipping past his guards with a smile or a tease, mocking the control he thought he had. But then he began to look forward to it. To her insane little pick up lines. Her unexpected humor. The vitality she infected him with that made the rest of his day easier to get through. That made waking up something to look forward to instead of dread.

He wouldn’t be fooling anyone if he told himself he wasn’t mentally doing back flips to finally lay her in his bed, in his arms, and hold her all night long. But if he was going to live that fantasy, shouldn’t he go all the way with it?

He turned to the closet, pulling open the doors where he’d put stuff he didn’t want taking up space in the little house he rented in Marketta. Where, under thin plastic, uniforms he’d never wear again and crisp dress shirts from years gone by waited like specters. He pulled a shirt out, the snowy white fabric sliding across his fingers like cool water. It would fit over her lush curves with room to spare, probably covering her at least to mid thigh. His best imaginings starred her in his uniform shirts, a button or two giving little more than lip service between the high globes of her breasts. Those tiny silk panties of hers playing peek-a-boo with every step she took.

If he gave her this to wear, his cock would turn to fucking stone with no relief in sight. Just hours and hours of unrelenting sexual torment until he could safely get her out of there.

He stole a quick glance at her, all that ebony hair flowing like ink over the arm of his couch, her lean body encased in dirty white leather, the toes of her matching boots pointing up as she stretched her legs with a wince.

I’m a masochist.

It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know about himself. He gripped the shirt in a stranglehold and headed back her way. “You need help sitting up?”

She grimaced as he knelt beside her again, but shook her head, already lowering her legs to the ground. Biting off a curse, Cade fit his hand to her back, supporting her regardless of her grudging acceptance. She never liked help. He never gave a shit. He considered it one of the better quirks to their relationship.

Trina took a deep breath, carefully, while he held his in anticipation that she could do it. The air came in and went out with any serious hitches. “See? It was just running up this mountain of yours that made it so bad.”

“You still haven’t said why you had to.” He didn’t care how many deflections she threw out there or how pissed he was that she might actually be telling the truth now, after all this wasted time. He could play being calm better than most, especially knowing every second of that calm was keeping her off balance enough to stop lying to him. No matter what, he wasn’t letting her get away without answers. It had been more than a year of this. He deserved them and he damn well better get them.

Did you find yourself leaning in closer and closer to the screen as you read on? What’s going to happen? Will Cade have a night filled with torment, or bliss? (Personally I think the latter would be fantastic, but with Trina’s ribs, I’m betting not. Or, I’d actually be annoyed if they did because hello bruised ribs. Nothing to mess around with. Pun intended.)

Bio: Dee Tenorio has a few reality issues. After much therapy for the problem—if one can call being awakened in the night by visions of hot able-bodied men a problem—she has proved incurable. It turns out she enjoys tormenting herself by writing sizzling, steamy romances of various genres spanning paranormal mystery dramas, contemporaries and romantic comedies. Preferably starring the sexy, somewhat grumpy heroes described above and smart-mouthed heroines who have much better hair than she does.

The best part is, no more therapy bills!

Well, not for Dee, anyway. Her husband and kids, on the other hand…

If you would like to learn more about Dee and her work, please visit her site or her blog.

Isn’t that excerpt just “!!!” Even while I was formatting, before I’d read it and just skimmed it my thoughts were “oh mah gahhh.” Which yes. Is the epitome of all those years of lit crit and academia. Alongside the fact that it’s the wee hours in the morning. (Hello 3 AM!) Enough of me – and look. A giveaway! Complete with a very simple “how to!”

Dee wanted me to add for her:

I’ll give away 2 copies of UL to a randomly drawn winner who answers the question: Could you resist the one you love, if you knew they were keeping secrets?

Teaser “Tuesday”: Conquered by Cari Quinn (Undercover Lovers)

Continuing on from last week, we’ve got the third novella in Undercover Lovers being featured with an exclusive excerpt today. The author is Cari Quinn! No need for me to babble more, right? The book blurb is:

Who’s undercover?

Saffron Burton – Sensual food critic posing as just another customer
Tucker Lamb – Smooth as butter former conman posing as nerdy professor
Shane Madison – Dead sexy private eye posing as a Strippendale’s dancer
Katrina Killian – Brazenly sexual cop posing as a gang member

Four ultra-sexy stories by four great authors, with one theme!

Conquered by Cari Quinn — Serial monogamist, Emma Donegan, has never had a one night stand. But when she sees the sexy cop-stripper at a friend’s bachelorette party, she resolves to make her most risque fantasies come true.

Playing the part of a stripper is way out of private detective Shane Madison’s comfort zone, but the future of his business hangs on this one case. Too bad the incriminating evidence leads right to the irresistible brunette who keeps slipping tens into his g-string. He can’t let her distract him. Who knew it would be so hard…

    Emma shoved the nightstick inside her bag. How had this all spiraled so out of control? She’d approached him to apologize for feeling him up and instead of acting affronted, he’d seemed happy to see her.

  As if he’d been waiting. As if he’d even been looking for her.

Men like him didn’t look for women like her. Her hair wasn’t long and slinky and she didn’t wear sexy lingerie that dripped like liquid lace off her tits and ass.

She wore plain cotton. Today she’d chosen her white granny panties to go with her equally non-seductive white bra.

   “I don’t need to get laid,” she said it almost like a mantra, in the hopes of convincing herself.

   She’d been all for a wild night of sex, until this guy strutted off stage and shook his giant pleasure tool in her face. Becky’s potion still trickled through her veins, probably why arousal already dampened her thighs. That didn’t take into consideration the dark-fringed eyes that stared so perceptively into her own. She couldn’t see the color in the dark but she knew she’d never forget that stormy steel gray any more than she could forget the impressive cock she’d held for all of five seconds.

   She hadn’t held nearly enough of them in her twenty-nine years but his had to be an exemplary specimen of its kind. Firm, long, thick…an instrument he probably used to induce female ecstasy on a frequent basis.

   He stepped closer and threaded his fingers through her curls. She came scarily close to mewling. “Let’s try this again. Do you want to get laid?”

   “I don’t know you.”

   “Name’s Shane.”

   “Shane. That sounds like a stripper’s name. Not a cop’s.” She twisted her mouth into a smile. “Is that a stage name?”

   “No. It’s my real name. Thanks a lot, by the way.”

   “For what?”

   “For telling me my grandfather’s name fits a stripper.”

   “Oh. Oops.” Her smile widened. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not a very good one.”

   “Third night on the job.” He blew out a breath. “I don’t like to dance. Pay’s decent, though I’m always up for better pay. Not to mention easier, more fun ways to earn it.” The flex of his hips against hers elicited gasps from them both. “Christ, you’re soft.”

   That made her laugh. “Women usually are. Been a while?” She risked a glance at his massive hard-on now pressing against her belly. “Sucks, doesn’t it? Though I bet you could get laid every night if you wanted to.”

   “Only if the price is right,” he muttered, the words lacking conviction.

   “Price?” Even without much experience, she didn’t think that sounded kosher. “You’re not one of those gigolos, are you?” Then as a completely scandalous idea took hold, she waved her purse. “Do you take credit cards? I bet your pony would be worth a ride.”

   He yanked on one of her curls, drawing her head back until his face loomed disturbingly close to hers. The scent of mint gum wafted between them, reminding her she’d seen him chewing while he was dancing.

   Maybe he’d been nervous. Did strippers-slash-gigolos get nervous?

   “I’d do you for free,” he said softly. “But only twice.”

   Being willing to “do her for free” was hardly a compliment. Her face warmed anyway. “Why only twice? Tight schedule?”

   “The more you do something, the more likely you are to get addicted.” His callused fingers smoothed along the shell of her ear. “I don’t think you can afford me, princess.”

   He had to be kidding. Despite the whole stripping thing, Shane didn’t seem skanky. Clean cut, decently dressed, clear-eyed. No signs of drug use or anything nefarious. But he more than filled the requirements for one-night-stand material.

   Maybe serendipity–and her best friend’s big mouth–had dropped exactly what she’d been hoping for right in her lap. She probably shouldn’t be happy she’d accidentally imbibed Dr. Becky’s latest lab creation. But if it led to a night she’d never forget…

   “So…credit cards?” She met his gaze. “Do you take them or not?”

   He touched her mouth, just a skim of fingertips. She still shivered as if he’d dragged the edge of his teeth down her spine. “Maybe we should talk some more first.”

   “Talk,” she repeated. Sure, right. Didn’t that figure? Her entertainment for the night wanted to talk. He’d probably somehow discovered she had on granny panties. “You know, I’m really good in bed,” she added.

   His quick grin shot right to her nipples. “Thank you for the heads up.”

   “You took care of that all on your own, Stripper Shane.”

   His grin turned sheepish. “You’re cute,” he said as if that explained everything.

   “So are you,” she said, feeling bolder than she ever had before. Her inner wild woman was mere inches and layers of durable cotton away from letting loose.

   Watch out, world.

   “So you don’t have one night stands yet now you’re bragging how amazing you are in bed.”

    “I’m a contradiction wrapped in an enigma sandwiched in–”

   “I get the point.” He grinned again and glanced at his watch. “How do you feel about nachos?”

Multi-published author Cari Quinn wrote her first story – a bible parable – in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. She attempted her first romance in junior high, long before she’d ever read one. Writing what she knew always took a backseat to what she wanted to know, and that still holds true today. Cari’s genres of choice include contemporary, romantic comedy, romantic suspense, urban fantasy and paranormal. Recently she discovered erotic romance. Oh, how far she’s come.

Isn’t Cari super cute?! 😀 She wants to know  “have you ever gone undercover for love?” and maybe “ever fallen for someone you were sure was wrong for you only to realize how right they were?” And what I want to know is… how are you all liking these excerpts? Hm? And this whole birthday palooza-ness? … I guess I should write a post about that. Eventually.

Cari is also very generously offering a giveaway! She’s offering any book in her back list, including Insatiable or Undercover Lovers! So you know, do your thing and comment! Answer our questions!

Teaser “Tuesday”: Conned by Chloe Cole (Undercover Lovers)

Continuing on from last week, we’ve got the second novella in Undercover Lovers being featured with an exclusive excerpt today. No need for me to babble more, right? The book blurb is:

Who’s undercover?

Saffron Burton – Sensual food critic posing as just another customer
Tucker Lamb – Smooth as butter former conman posing as nerdy professor
Shane Madison – Dead sexy private eye posing as a Strippendale’s dancer
Katrina Killian – Brazenly sexual cop posing as a gang member

Four ultra-sexy stories by four great authors, with one theme!

Conned by Chloe Cole — Human sexuality Professor Cricket Malloy likes bad boys, but when buttoned-up Science Professor Tucker Lamb needs help with an experiment on aphrodisiacs, she goes the extra mile to help him out. After all, he’s harmless…

Tucker Lamb was born into a life of a grifter. He’s always prided himself on his fast fingers and quicksilver tongue. Ever since being placed in the witness protection program, he’s been on the up and up, but something about Cricket Malloy makes him ache to see if his tongue is as fast as it used to be.

“Okay, so we’re going to measure the results three different ways, depending on the test. Pupil dilation, heart rate and electrodermal response. I’m going to ask you to wear this galvactivator on your hand.”“Amazing little thing, isn’t it?”

He nodded his agreement. She’d gotten it on loan from a university in Philadelphia. Tuck had been blown away when she’d told him about it. Apparently, the skin became a better conductor of electricity during arousal. The glove stretched, fitting tightly to any hand. It could measure even the slightest increase of skin conductance. This blip in the body’s normal behavior would be picked up by the sensors and the light embedded in the glove would glow. It was a painless and easily measurable way to gather data. And it was a foolproof desire detector.

He couldn’t wait to see it in action, but not because of its research potential. All he cared about was how they affected this particular subject. He tried not to think of what would happen when they switched roles.

Because if Cricket Malloy was within fifty feet of him, his glove was going to be glowing like a motherfucker.


It took a few seconds to adjust to the total darkness. Cricket took a steadying breath. Being blindfolded was out of the ordinary in itself, but being blindfolded and hooked up to a bunch of sensors while rocking the Michael Jackson look was downright nerve racking. She was like a turtle on its back.

Vulnerable with a capital V.

Tuck’s silence wore on her already stretched nerves and she cleared her throat, just to make some sound. “Well, if you’re going to reveal your true identity as the Westfield Slasher and serial-kill me, do it now and end the suspense.” Her voice came out sounding tinny. She tried for a laugh so he’d know she was kidding.


“My true identity? Nope, you get what you see. Well, you get what you hear, in this case I guess. Good old Tucker Lamb.”

He sounded nervous as well and that was strangely comforting.

“You’re going to hear a click. That’s just me turning on the video camera.”

That had been her own suggestion and it made sense. Having a record of the experiments made it possible to go back and review the material again in the event that any data was missed in real time.

“The first item is something you listed as a food you like but that isn’t considered an aphrodisiac. I just want to get a baseline response so I can differentiate between food you enjoy and foods that elicit a sexual response.”

She nodded. The sound of foil crumpling was followed by a scrape.

“Open,” he instructed. The huskiness of his voice gave her pause, but she parted her lips a moment later.

She closed her mouth over the cool tines of a fork and encountered something cold and creamy. The fork slid from between her lips and she chewed. Crunchy too. Coconut cream pie with graham cracker crust.

“Mmm…” she mumbled, savoring the flavors. Eating with a blindfold on was liberating.

She could focus all her energy on the taste. “Please, sir, I wont some more,” she said, laying on a thick Cockney accent.

He let out a crack of laughter that warmed her to the bone.

“I don’t want you full before we get through the rest of the stuff, but I’ll put it in the fridge so you can eat the rest later.”

“Brilliant. Okay, I’m ready, what’s next?”

“Open wide then bite down.”

She parted her lips and in came something sweet, no fork. She closed her teeth over the object and bit down. Cool, sweet-tart juice spurted onto her tongue and she groaned.

Chocolate covered strawberry.

She chewed slowly, letting the fine, dark chocolate melt in her mouth before she swallowed.

“Oh man, you sure know how to treat a girl.”

A few seconds went by with no response.


Had he left her alone? Suddenly nervous, she reached a hand to the blindfold.

“Sorry, I—uh, I had to record the data.” His voice was so thick her nipples tightened in response. She longed to tear the covering away from her eyes so she could see his expression. See if it was desire behind that dark, silky tone. The not-knowing was at once frustrating and thrilling.

She wondered whether the glove was lit up, then shoved the thought aside and cleared her throat. “Next.”

She opened her mouth without prompting this time and waited. Again, the feeling of being totally vulnerable overtook her, but she kept her lips parted.

The room was so quiet, she could hear his breathing. And her own. What if, instead of feeding her, he leaned forward and kissed her? What if he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, then nipped her lightly before sinking into her completely?

She sensed his body moving nearer, the heat of him tempting her to press close. His scent washed over her, sandalwood and vanilla, the minty bite of mouthwash—

The cool steel of a spoon almost made her jerk back. Instead, she closed her mouth as silky, smooth honey glided over her tongue and slid down her throat. Delicious.

She licked her lips to pick up any errant drops and the air in the room shifted. Tuck’s breathing quickened and her stomach fluttered in response.

“Again,” he murmured.

She froze, unsure of his meaning. Lick her lips again? Or?

“Open again.”

Ah, the experiment. She needed to get her head out of the gutter. Obviously Tuck was just in the zone, focused on task and distracted as he recorded the results.

She opened again and waited. And again, the forbidden thrill of being at his mercy rippled through her.

If he wanted to, he could wrap a fist in her hair and guide her waiting mouth over his thick cock, over and over.

A rush of warmth pooled between her thighs and she shifted in her chair.


Her nipples grew even tighter as she obeyed his command. He ran the pad of a finger over her lips and her pulse pounded in response.


She nodded but didn’t reply as she anticipated his next move. God, what if he did it? She could almost feel his smooth length butting against her lips, demanding entry.

Whoo! That’s some teaser, yes? Now who’s ready for a snack? 😉 What’d you think? Did last week’s teaser make you go buy the book? Will you after this one? Are you into sexy food scenes, or is that not your cup of tea? I’m sooo full of clever puns today, aren’t I. 😀 Oh and silly me  – did I forget to mention that Chloe is giving away a copy of any book from her back list? That’s incentive to talk right? Which book looked appealing to you? Did you read any excerpts?

Teaser “Tuesday”: Consumed by Dee Carney (Undercover Lovers)

You’ll notice that things are a little different this month. Yes, I realize it’s not Tuesday. In fact, today is Thursday! (Well, in my time zone at the moment…) Generally, my “Guest Author & A Giveaway” series are the first Tuesday of each month. As June is my birthday month… well it’s jam packed with not me! 😀 I decided to fill every Tuesday… (also because authors were like “you want to schedule me for when? So.) And so this month’s Teaser Tuesday spots get pushed to Thursday.

Also, this month, it’s perfect because there are four novellas in this anthology, and more than four Thursdays this month! Whee! So, each week a different novella from the anthology Undercover Lovers will be the Teaser subject. The book blurb is:

Who’s undercover?

Saffron Burton – Sensual food critic posing as just another customer
Tucker Lamb – Smooth as butter former conman posing as nerdy professor
Shane Madison – Dead sexy private eye posing as a Strippendale’s dancer
Katrina Killian – Brazenly sexual cop posing as a gang member

Four ultra-sexy stories by four great authors, with one theme!

Consumed by Dee Carney — It’s no surprise Chef August Jaeger’s rivals would do anything to discover the secrets of his signature dishes. When the curvaceous woman of his dreams shows up out of the blue, he grows suspicious. Fortunately, the best way to get to the truth is by offering a private dining experience that would teach her a passionate lesson she won’t soon forget.

Food journalist Saffron Burton has a job to do: find out what August is serving for Restaurant Week or lose her job. But with every course that passes her lips—and every minute in his presence—she’s finding what she really wants isn’t listed on any menu…

      Instantly, a series of decadent thoughts involving Saffron and the spatula raced through his mind.

Fuck, he could just imagine turning her over his knee and lifting the hem of that pretty black dress. Ever so slowly revealing thick, delicious thighs covered by sheer hose and then higher up to a pair of white–no, black–panties, damp with her juices and stretched tight over an ample ass.

Just thinking about it made his hand tingle with anticipation. To slap his palm against her soft flesh over and over again until her skin flushed a deep pink made his dick stir. The thought of maybe even adding the spatula into his play awakened the rest of his libido.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, swallowing hard, “maybe a type A asshole who’s set on getting his way.”

“But what happens if he doesn’t?”

“Never mind that. He always gets his way.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.”

August slipped the last crepe out of the pan. With a different, small off-set spatula, he spread a light layering of raspberry compote on each crepe. Saffron remained standing by the stove while he gathered a large serving plate and a fork. “This is where the forceful part comes into play, remember? Now sit.”

Her eyes narrowed. “First tell me why do you keep looking at that spatula and then back at me.”

He almost laughed out loud. If only she knew… “Sit first.”

There was a moment’s hesitation from her, during which he wondered if maybe she really was having second thoughts. He couldn’t blame her. They moved at a reckless speed. But then Saffron sat. Before she could cross her legs, though, August stepped in between them.

The pace of her breathing quickened, her breasts rising and falling in what he hoped was anticipation. Reaching for the fork and plate beyond her with one hand, he slid the other onto the soft flesh of her thigh. “Now open your mouth,” he said softly.

Looking into his eyes, Saffron did as he commanded. As August lifted the fork topped with raspberry filled crepe to her mouth, he slid his other hand beneath the hem of her skirt. At the same moment her lips closed around the food, his fingers wrapped around the cloth of her panties. She hummed a soft noise, looking at him from beneath hooded lids. “So good,” she practically purred.

“Yeah?” He fed her another bite and then another. All the while keeping his hand against the softness of her skin. So close to uncovering her pussy, but not nearly close enough.

Thank God, he worked on automatic pilot cutting pieces of crepe, scooping up bits of raspberry compote. Feeding her. His mind remained solely focused on the fact he could slide his fingers against the plump lips of her pussy at any time. A war raged within him; the chef ensured she found oral satisfaction while the man in him wanted her sexual satiation.

Before he knew it, there were only crumbs on the plate.

“That was delicious. But you already knew that, huh?” Saffron asked as she realized she’d eaten it all. “What about you though? Aren’t you hungry?”

August kept looking at her lips. Unable to help himself, he growled, “Starving.” Adding credence, he captured her lips and devoured them.

The fresh taste of berries burst upon his tongue when he parted her mouth with it. Saffron matched him stroke for stroke, soft moans and encouraging whimpers driving him. Making good on an unspoken promise, August tugged on the panties still in his hand. She arched her body, helping him, wriggling out of the material until they were nothing more than scraps around her ankles.

Her hands clasped onto the front of his jacket before she made short work of his buttons, unfastening each. He could scarcely breathe for the need choking him as she pushed the material away from his chest. “Liebling,” he groaned. English escaped him. Words vanished.

Saffron pulled away, breathing hard. She placed a finger on his lips, sensing the frenzy overtaking him. “Shh… Let me.”

He was panting, but August went still. He clamped his jaw down, tightening until it pained him, but he found his patience again.

And it was fucking worth it.

Saffron stood in the centimeters of space he’d left her and with the grace of a ballerina pushed down the straps of her dress. Chin elevated, she slowly revealed herself, inch by creamy inch of skin. From the freckles decorating her chest, to the rose-blushed tips of her ample breasts and down farther to the rounded flesh of her belly, August stood enthralled as it all came into view. If anyone asked him if he’d managed to breathe during any of it, he wouldn’t be able to say. All he knew was the glory being uncovered before him and the pounding of his heartbeat.

Hands on hips, Saffron canted her head to the side. “So…about that spatula?”

“Turn around,” he forced through a tight throat.

She twirled slowly, a vision in heels and hose, and rested her hands on the island. With a husky voice, she asked, “What now?”

August picked up the spatula, sticky in spots from raspberry compote and moved behind her. Letting her anticipation build, he studied the slender shape of her calves, the dimples behind her knees, the delicious fullness of her thighs. He admired the heart-shape of her buttocks and the feminine contour of her hips.


“So impatient,” he murmured. His hand went to the slope of her ass, rubbing its round form. Saffron watched him from over her shoulder, teeth biting into her kiss-swollen bottom lip.

She cried out the moment his hand slapped one cheek. August offered her soothing words, circling his palm against the warm spot he created. “Are you alright?” he asked gently.

She blew out a breath. “Yes.” Her head fell forward, her face turning away from him, but August heard her next whispered words. “Again, please.”


Dee Carney is a best-selling, award-winning author of contemporary and paranormal erotic romances. Every one of her heroines loves exceptional food and every hero knows the best way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. To read more about her stories and to indulge your senses, please visit her on the web at www.deecarney.com

And as a special treat, Ms. Carney is giving away three copies of Undercover Lover. So start asking questions! *Winners will be drawn by 8 PM on June 8, and posted on June 9th, so remember to check back!

So – what do you think? Gonna give this book a try? Have you ever read anything by Dee Carney before? Have any questions for Ms. Carney?