Ripper (Hunter #1)(123)

He cringed at the thought of how stupid he’d been about her. He knew he was ping-ponging, caught between wanting to understand her and wanting to throttle her, but most of all, he wanted to get his hands on her.

He wanted to see just how much she’d lied about.

“You might want to think this thing through, Jesse,” Adam began.

He was just about to tell Adam where he could shove his thought process when Big Tag strode out of his office. A thunderous look clouded his boss’s face, but Jesse was ready to throw down with whoever he needed to. This was his op and his…f*ck, he didn’t even know what to call her, but Phoebe was his.

Ian stopped in front of them. “Take her to your office. Do what you need to do but keep it down. Apparently we’re still having a baby shower and I have to attend or risk having my balls ripped off my body. I like my balls, Murdoch. Keep her quiet. Charlie’s serious about this party thing. When did I f*cking lose control? She’s not even an employee here.”

“No. I’m part owner,” Charlotte said, her voice a sharp instrument. She was a beautiful woman with strawberry blonde hair. She rested her hand on the bump on her belly that seemed to get bigger every day. “Eve and I own half this company, you know. And we have all the boobs so try getting around us. Phoebe, I swear to god if I find out you’ve done one thing to put this company and our people in danger I will take you apart myself. Is that understood? You better hope you can prove you weren’t going to hurt Jesse. He’s one of my men and I will deal with you.”

Phoebe’s head came up again. “Your men? That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it? You treat him like a puppy you can pat on his head and send away. He isn’t yours and if you think you can take me, you’re wrong.”

Charlotte’s lips curled up and Jesse realized Phoebe had just fallen into a trap. “She doesn’t like the fact that I said you’re mine, Jesse.”

Big Tag was frowning at her. “I didn’t either.”

She waved him off. “I meant as a friend and employee, but Phoebe’s brain goes straight for the sexual. I wonder why. Li’s right. You’re going to owe him a hundred bucks at the end of this thing. She’s all Stockholmed out. Who wants cake?”



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Bound by His Blood

Jennifer August

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Investigative reporter Sheridan Aames is hot on the trail of a lethal drug flooding Boston. She never expects her snitch appointment to end in a hail of bullets...or to learn the sexy detective who rescues her is actually a vampire cop. It's not the fact he's a vampire which bothers her – it's realizing he’s a Dominant. She doesn’t want anything to do with that and doesn’t mind telling him. Except she can’t quite shake the compelling need pulling her toward him, the desire to kneel at his feet and see what comes of such an act. Logan McCallister knows there’s something special about Sheridan from the moment he wraps his arms around her and mists them to the safety of his house. He’s instantly attracted to her, drawn almost against his will to her spunky, vivacious nature. As a Dominant, McCallister is accustomed to subservience, instant obedience, and sensual submission. Sheridan's defiance stirs his excitement -- the more she resists her submission to him, the more he needs her, something he swore never to feel again. But as they battle their conflicting sexual desires, their investigation reveals a bigger — and more dangerous — threat to each other and mankind. Sheridan must find it within her to bend her knee...her neck...her heart...and submit to Logan to save humanity and herself.





Boston, 1888

“Come on, Logan. It’ll be a grand night. It’s your eighteenth birthday. Time to become a man.”

Logan McCallister gave Joseph Kilkairn a sour look. The Scotsman was bound and determined to drag him to a brothel. McCallister wanted to go. He really did. Fear held him back.

If Father finds out where I’ve gone…

His straight-laced father would have an apoplectic fit if he knew his first-born son, the one he’d been meticulously grooming to join the family shipping business, had left their stately Beacon Hill house to pay for sex. Boston Brahmins did not engage in salacious activities, nor did they cross class lines.

The fire in the hearth crackled and popped. Wood groaned as it shifted into ash. The big house in which he lived with his father, younger brother, and sister was as empty and personable as an ancient tomb. None of his family had stayed to celebrate his birthday with even a special meal much less gifts or well wishes.

Not that I expected anything different.

His father ran a strict household. Frivolities like presents, celebrations, and affections were frowned upon.

Logan set his jaw as a spurt of rebellion tempted him.

One night out of a lifetime of duty won’t matter.

McCallister shifted the perfect knot of his cravat, brushed away non-existent lint from his custom-tailored jacket and nodded his head. “All right. I’m in.”

Joseph chortled and thumped him on the back. “You’re going to love it,” he said. His dark blue eyes gleamed. “I was there last week, myself. Had a gorgeous dove named Claudine take care of me. Gor, she was something else.”

Excitement thrummed in McCallister’s veins, easily beating away any lingering fear. Following Joseph from the house, McCallister leaped into the waiting coach with a light step born of eagerness. As they bounced and jostled over the cobblestone road leading from Beacon Hill, the gaslights flanking each side of the street streaked past like falling stars.