She could eat in a restaurant, dance in a club, go to a movie in a crowded theater where the schmuck next to her would steal her armrest. She could fly on a plane. Go to Egypt or Bermuda or Taiwan. She didn't know why she should want to go to Taiwan unless she was picking up a few sweatshop workers, but the fact that she could changed everything. It changed her.

Nate wedged himself against the car door, as far away from her as he could get without leaping into oncoming traffic.

"What are you doing way over there?"

"Recovering from the heart attack you gave me on the pier," he snapped. "And trying to figure out how to talk you into going back to the hotel and leaving the jewel thieves to the professionals."

"I thought I was a suspect," she purred, scooting across the bench seat toward him. "Don't you want my confession?"

He leaned away, pressing into the door. "You aren't a crook. I believe you. Now back off, before you give yourself another seizure."

Ciara kept her eyes locked on his, slowly shaking her head. "Nate, for the first time in the last decade, I can touch someone without feeling like someone dropped a cherry bomb into my brain. Do you honestly think I'm not going to take advantage of this for every second it lasts?" She reached out and laid her fingers along his jaw. She listened and the touch sang through her, a perfect pitch ringing sweetly, deep inside her rib cage.

She slid her fingers down, drawing them along the column of his throat, listening as the note shifted with his every breath. Her eyes fixed on his mouth, the delicious masculine curve of it.

Ten years. She hadn't been kissed in ten years.

"Nate," she whispered. Her upper body leaned forward of its own volition, closing the distance between them. She wet her lips.

"This is a bad idea. I don't think-"

"Don't think. It's overrated." Ciara's eyelids lowered, but she watched him through her lashes, not wanting to miss a single detail of the kiss. She brushed her lips ever so softly over his, a fleeting whisper of a touch. His breath was warm on her lips. His stubble grazed her fingertips, the tantalizing spice of his aftershave teasing her nose. Ciara pressed a closed-mouth kiss full on his mouth and a chord struck in her soul. She placed one hand over his heart, feeling his strength through the thin cloth of his shirt. She wanted bare flesh under her fingers. She wanted to bathe in touch, skin to skin.

Nate kept his mouth closed, his head back. He was frozen against the door, as if afraid to touch her.

Or as if he didn't want her touch.

Ciara drew back. Her eyes flew wide to find him watching her, his gaze steady and concerned.

"You don't-" She hesitated. c.r.a.p. With her luck, he was probably gay. Just because he seemed like a big strong macho man and gaped at her naked girly bits whenever the opportunity presented itself didn't mean he wasn't batting for the other team. "You aren't-" She couldn't very well ask him what his s.e.xual orientation was five seconds after she planted one on him.

G.o.d, her people skills sucked. That's what happened when you lived in a freaking bubble for a decade and learned all of your social skills from the television and internet. Had she missed some signal?

He watched her. G.o.d, the way he watched her. It made her feel like she was edible, sweet and sinful, and he was hungry for some decadent indulgence. Would a gay man look at her like that?

But if he wasn't gay, what the h.e.l.l was he doing cowering beside the door like she was molesting him against his will. His body was eerily still, but his eyes raced over her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, an odd urgency running under the words.

Was she okay? She kissed him. He didn't kiss her back. And now he was concerned that...what?

"That didn't hurt you?" His voice was rough.

Ciara blinked, the pieces suddenly jolting into place. Of course. Mr. All-American was concerned for her well-being. His moral fort.i.tude prevented him from enjoying a kiss if it might be hurting her. d.a.m.n moral fort.i.tude. Why couldn't he just take advantage of her like a normal man?

"I'm fine," she a.s.sured him in a rush. "Great, actually. It feels amazing."

"Good."

Before she had time to react to that guttural growl, his hands were on her arms. He hauled her forward across his lap. His mouth crashed down on hers, urging her to open for him, and a symphony exploded inside her. Ciara threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. She parted her lips and his tongue slipped between them, a whip of heat unfurling in her stomach with each flick.

She didn't remember kisses like this. She remembered the fumbling, groping, wide-open-mouthed attempts of her adolescence, before her curse hit. This was unlike any of those. This was skill and persuasion, seduction and heat. As a fiery concerto radiated out from her soul, a clenching warmth rose up from her toes, tingling along every nerve. Nate's hands chased those tingles and multiplied them, tracing her curves through the thin barrier of her clothes.

He raised his head. His eyes searched hers as they clung together, both breathing rapidly. "Ciara?"

"More, Nate," she whispered. "Please, touch me more."

He groaned and crushed her to him, instantly obeying. His mouth slanted down on hers and she fell into sensation.

He's no one's hero. She's no one's p.a.w.n. And now they're caught in the crossfire...

Deadlock 2011 Moira Rogers Southern Arcana, Book 3 Abandoned by her wolf shifter father and raised by her human psychic mother, Carmen Mendoza can't deny she's different. She craves things most women shy away from-and she has a trail of shapeshifting ex-boyfriends to prove it.

Working at a clinic for supernatural creatures, she's escaped the notice of her father's legacy-obsessed family. Until they need a p.a.w.n in their bid for power. Snared by a vicious spell designed to wake her inner wolf, Carmen's only hope is to trust the one man strong enough to soothe her darkest instincts.

Alec Jacobson was once the heir apparent to the wolves' ruling elite, until he walked away to marry the woman he loved. She paid with her life. Now he lives as a rebel, a black-sheep alpha who protects the supernatural residents of New Orleans from the wolves' barbaric cla.s.s system. Too bad he can't protect himself from his need for Carmen.

Yet staking his claim on his enemy's niece will turn his city into a battleground. Unless he can find a way to stop breaking the rules-and start making them.

Warning: This book contains a renegade alpha wolf, a smart empathic doctor, very dirty s.e.x with psychic safe-words, the occasional dominance game in and out of the bedroom, and a group of supernatural citizens ready to take on the corrupt leaders of their world.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Deadlock: Carmen slowed and spun, walking backwards. "How long have you lived here?"

"This house?" He slowed too, to a casual amble. "Bought it...oh, nine or ten years back."

"And do you do this often?"

"Run? Or chase women through the woods?"

"That's chivalrous of you, to keep pretending you're the one doing the chasing here."

One eyebrow quirked up. "You're right. If I were really chasing you, you'd be under me already."

"Now there's a thought." She had to get used to the blatant, idle flirtation. She couldn't get aroused every time he said something like that, or she'd be perpetually h.o.r.n.y-and frustrated. "I meant your obvious role as protector and mentor. Do you have a lot of new wolves beating down your door?"

"A few," he acknowledged with that infuriating little smile. "Someone has to take care of them, and I'm good at it."

And he needed it. She might never hear the admission from his lips, but she felt it plainly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You're going to trip and break your neck if you keep walking backwards on this path."

She stopped. "I was trying not to be rude."

He jerked his chin toward the path. "Quarter mile, maybe a little more. There's a nice clearing. I'll give you a ten-second head start."

The predatory glint in his eyes stole her breath and kicked her heart rate into high gear. "Head start for what?"

"Before I chase you. For real."

She had to be crazy to consider it, even if the thought made her body buzz. "And then what? More dirty talk because you can't sleep with me, but you can sure the h.e.l.l torture me with your eyes and muscles and ridiculously hot voice?"

He actually laughed. "Can't do much to fix any of that. I could back off, I guess, but you're not going to like that much better."

"No, I suppose I wouldn't." She didn't feel like a crazed animal, but she'd never been quite so moved by feral instinct, either. "Go easy on me, would you?"

Pacing herself wasn't a problem, not if it was only a quarter of a mile, so Carmen ran hard, pushing herself almost at a sprint. Soon, the near-echo of trampled brush drifted from behind her, and she smiled through her panting.

He let her get three long strides into the clearing before he tackled her, somehow twisting their bodies as they fell so she sprawled across his chest. His low, delighted laughter curled around her, warm as the arms that circled her waist. "Easy as I get."

Too easy. Too intimate. She wiggled out of his arms and landed on the ground beside him. "You smile like you're not used to it, did you know that?"

Laughter died, and he twisted his head to stare at her. "It's been a while. Only other person willing to poke at me until I laugh is Kat. I always figured she did it because she knows I'm not going to kill her, even if I'm glaring like I want to. An empathy thing."

"Maybe." She wanted to rea.s.sure him with her touch, but she thrummed with a s.e.xual awareness he could surely sense. "Is everyone else so careful with you because they're scared?"

"Some of them are." He slid his fingers over hers, his hand a heavy weight. "What do you feel?

Beneath the s.e.x, what does my power feel like?"

Dominant. Implacable. "You're strong, and you're intense." All things so wound up in her attraction to him that there could be no separation.

"And I'm a little crazy. Or I act that way enough that everyone thinks it's true. Better if most of the scary people in town are wary of p.i.s.sing me off."

"Makes sense." His hand was huge, warm and a bit rough. She wanted to feel it on her body, sliding down her back and curling around her hip to hold her still for a hard, demanding thrust.

The mental image formed so quickly that all she could do was bite her lip as she blinked and willed it away.

His fingers tightened around hers. "I hate not knowing what to do. If I'll hurt you more leaving you alone, or by giving you what you crave. I don't want to hurt you at all. Do you have any f.u.c.king idea how long it's been since I didn't know what to do?"

"You're too hard on yourself," she admonished. "It isn't your job to keep me from hurting, and no one knows everything all the time."

"It's my job to keep from hurting you." He lifted his hand and hers with it, sliding it up until they pressed into the gra.s.s over her head. Then he released her and rolled to his side, propped up on his elbow so the bulk of his body loomed above her. "It's all a d.a.m.n excuse. It's my job, and I'd be doing it anyway...but that's not why I'm doing it now."

It was the most nonsensical thing she'd heard in a while. "Are you saying you want to protect me?"

"I'm saying I want to protect you." His free hand landed on her stomach, skimming up to skip over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and land on her collarbone. "You're not scared of me. Even when I'm acting crazy."

"Because you're not crazy." She caught his hand and held it still. "Don't do this just because you think I need it. It's not worth it."

His eyes looked so dark they might as well have been black. "Honey, I thought you were an empath."

"You know what I mean. If you still think I'm not in my right mind, the guilt would kill you, and I only want you to feel good about this."

He considered that for a moment, then guided her other hand up above her head. "I'm going to kiss you. Deep. Hard. You okay with that?"

He'd urged her into a position of submission-both hands over her head, her body stretched out beneath his-and it made her shake with antic.i.p.ation. "More than okay."

"You want me to stop, you say stop." One hand curled around both of her wrists, gentle but unyielding. "You want more, ask for it. Okay?"

Carmen pulled against his grasp, not to free herself but to test his strength. He held tight, her eyes fluttered shut under a wave of need. "Yes."

His free hand settled at her hip in a possessive grip. Power built in the s.p.a.ce between them, a slow, steady rise that mirrored the dark heat in his eyes as he lowered his mouth, lips barely touching hers. "Let me in."

The command released something inside her, a tension she hadn't noticed before he eased it, and she closed her eyes again. Honesty was one thing, even a kiss...

Don't think, Carmen. Feel.

She obeyed, loosening her tight hold on control, gasping when the first waves of empathic feedback echoed off him to heat her own body.

His beard sc.r.a.ped her chin as he closed the distance between them with a shuddering groan. He kissed the way she'd seen him live, reckless arrogance and power and an intensity that bordered on intimidating.

Lips and teeth and his tongue stroking her mouth until she parted her lips, then surging forward to taste and take, his hunger and satisfaction twisting between them on the threads of her empathy.

She wasn't prepared for the depth of her reaction to his satisfaction. Beyond the undeniable physical pleasure of the kiss was a whole world of intimacy, a power she'd flirted with but never really embraced.

She could give him everything.

More, he'd take it. There could be no doubt of that, not with his desires laid bare before her, the hot need for her pleasure dwarfed by the steely craving to be the only one who provided it. Nothing tentative there. Nothing tentative about the way he teased his tongue against hers, his pleasure spiking every time she moaned and arched closer.

It had to stop, even if depriving herself of his touch drove her mad. Carmen turned her head to break the kiss. "Oh G.o.d."

There's more than one way to outsmart a fox...

Foxy Lady 2010 Marie Harte A Cougar Falls Story Trust Julia Easton to screw up Sheriff Ty Roderick's March Madness plans. The pixie-faced vixen might be the picture of feminine perfection, but she tests his innate sense of order to its limits. Weeks ago, he let his conscience turn down a proposition his body still burns to accept-then she vanished. Now he's in the middle of Nowhere, Washington, racing to rescue her from danger.

There's risk in leaving Cougar Falls, but it's the only way Julia can hope to save her sister from making the same mistake she almost made with Ty. Settling down and having kits is one thing, but it can't be done with a human, especially one from a hunting family. Unfortunately, her sister isn't budging, and the fiance's brother won't take Julia's no for an answer, either.

When Ty comes riding to their rescue, Julia plans to use him and lose him. No way is she throwing herself at that alpha jerk's feet in grat.i.tude. Then Ty gives her the answer her heart still longs for: he wants to spend the rest of his life making things right. Now if only she can find the courage to say yes.

Warning: Beware a foxy sheriff, a backwoods bad guy, a cunning vixen, s.e.xy escapades in and out of the bedroom, and the return of stubborn male shifters who think they know everything.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Foxy Lady: Ty didn't know whether to spank Julia or kiss her senseless. Just seeing her again aroused him in a way he was hard-pressed to explain. Her scent, the feel of her smooth skin under his hands, her soft kiss, all of it made him want to throw her down on the nearest bed and f.u.c.k her until he couldn't move. He wanted to tie her to him and make her admit she couldn't stop thinking about him. Because he sure as h.e.l.l couldn't stop thinking about her.

Hearing that Neanderthal claim Julia had nearly ended Ned's life. It had taken a lot of discipline to remain still. Ty didn't like that loss of control. As town sheriff, he came into contact with conflict on a daily basis. He had a reputation as calm and collected. So why did Julia Easton tie him in knots?

At least the woman looked nervous. As she should.

"Well? I'm waiting," he said in a quiet voice, pleased when Julia and Gabby jumped.

The three sisters were exceptionally popular in the clan. Meghan was the youngest, and at the age where she needed to explore. No one had balked when she'd left town for college on the outside. Still, this Jason business would need some explaining.

Everyone liked Gabby, the most outgoing and genial of the three. She had a tawny complexion that suited her dark red hair, and a curvy frame where Meghan and Julia were leaner.

Slender, s.e.xy and beautiful, Julia made him ache. She made him want to beg. He huffed. A Roderick didn't beg. h.e.l.l, at home he rejected s.e.xual offers from women left and right. But Julia had never asked a thing from him, not until the sly vixen had propositioned him, drunk as a skunk. Now how the h.e.l.l could he say yes to that and not have her hate him in the morning?

Meghan was the first to answer him. "Ty, uh, I'm, well..."

"Get on with it, Meghan." She really was cute. A younger version of Julia.