Saturday, March 31, 2018

My Salvation by Caitlyn Willows




MY SALVATION
by Caitlyn Willows
Erotica - Short Paranormal
April 2014 (previously released in November 2006)
Cover Art ©Lacey Savage

A traffic accident took away Aaron’s salvation, his fiancée Melinda. Lost and grief-stricken, he plunged back into his former days, drowning his grief in mindless parties and drunken debauchery, until a random accident of his own threatens his very soul. Trapped at the crossroads of heaven and hell, he finds himself in limbo, waiting for the Powers That Be to determine his fate. Now, as his soul hovers between eternal bliss and endless damnation, Melinda returns from the grave to help him earn his salvation once more.

BUY LINKS

REVIEWS

FIVE HEARTS! Beautiful, amazing, enthralling-I cannot think of enough words to describe this magnificent short story! I found myself intrigued and aroused-my, oh my Melinda and Aaron had erotic sex. They pulled me along with them in their graphic sex. Then there were the parts of plot where I just wanted to cry. Ms. Willows has an unbelievable ability to wring emotion out of her readers. Melinda, who is dead and Aaron, who wishes to be dead are surprisingly well described for a short story. The plot flows absolutely seamlessly, even when twists come in the story. I cannot remember a story ending which I have enjoyed more. Brava, Ms. Willows! ~Marcy Arbitman, The Romance Studio

4.5 BLUE RIBBONS! Caitlyn Willows takes us on a fascinating journey of self-discovery with this short tale. I could have easily cried for Aaron, his beloved Melinda and the life that they should have had together. It’s very easy to understand his disappointment and how simple it would be to slip into his old ways after such a loss. At the same time, you get the feeling that Melinda may have physically died but she never truly left him in spirit. Ms. Willows brings us the life after death experience in a beautiful heart-touching way that readers won’t soon forget. ~Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies

[A] heart-wrenching story that is sure to pull heavily on your emotions. There were moments where I was teary eyed, instances where I shook my head in shame and times where my spine was tingling with heated passion. My Salvation was so engrossing that I read it in one setting. I could easily see the love shared between Melinda and Aaron. Their chemistry was very passionate and expanded across time. There is not much more I can say without giving away the plot; however, I took great pleasure in reading Melinda and Aaron’s story and I am sure once you discover My Salvation you will enjoy it also. ~Nikita Steele, Joyfully Reviewed

EXCERPT

Aaron Crane hoisted the bottle of Absolut to his lips and chugged it. He’d passed the buzz-stage quite some time ago, yet he still maintained a death grip around the neck. The vodka dulled the pain in his heart, filled the void in his soul, and faded the memories that assaulted him even in his dreams.
“Are you taking a leak or what?” Joe Sanchez hollered back.

“Keep your panties on,” Aaron yelled back.

He heard the other three snicker in response, most probably because Aaron had used the word “panties” rather than for the insult he’d intended. God, they really were an immature bunch. None of them had evolved beyond the mentality of a college freshman. Fun was belching contests, seeing who could piss the farthest, and laying down quarter bets of whatever game was on TV, while they scratched their balls and scarfed pizza. Aaron was the only one of the bunch who held a steady job. If he kept partying with these guys, he’d be standing behind them in the unemployment line, and he knew it. Insurance companies liked their claims adjusters alert and attentive, not to mention timely, and he’d been none of those lately. Hungover, emaciated, and perpetually tardy were more likely descriptions.

And yet, in his grief, Aaron had chosen to return to this comfort zone rather than setting out on his own. The more time he spent with these four, the more he disliked them…and himself. But then, he’d hated life and himself since the night Melinda died. The only thing he wanted was to be dead, too. That’s how he felt inside—dead.

He tossed back another drink. Who the hell got the bright idea to stop off in the middle of the desert? They were halfway to Vegas. Why the fucking side-trip?

“Screw it.”

Aaron sank to the nearest boulder and stared across a landscape silvered with the light of a full moon. A warm breeze washed over him. They’d made love under a moon like this once, with only the wind as their blanket. Melinda had wrapped her legs around his. They’d clutched each other as closely as two people could as they soared to the stars watching over them.

He’d loved everything about her from the moment they’d met—her beauty, her goodness, her laughter, her mind. Melinda made him want to be a better person. Hell, he had become a better person, shrugging off his errant ways to be the man she’d want. She was his salvation. Everything he’d dreamed of had seemed to fall in his lap once she’d beamed her smile over him. Paths Aaron never knew existed opened. The world, the future, was golden.

The day he proposed they’d scoured the Internet for the perfect honeymoon spot. There was really only one choice—Desirata. Melinda had read about the idyllic island chain in a travel magazine; a tropical paradise where all a person’s needs were met. It was off the beaten tourist path, exclusive, private—visitation was granted on a person’s needs, not their wealth. Melinda filled out the application, her eyes shining the whole time.

“I know they’ll accept us,” she’d said.

Aaron didn’t care where they went. As long as they were together, he’d give her the world if he could. What better place to start than on a white sand beach perched on the edge of a crystal blue-green ocean?

And just like that…she was ripped away from him. All because some fool blabbering on a cell phone ran a stop light at sixty miles per hour. She’d died clutching the envelope containing the Desirata application.

Grief had torn him in two. He’d tried so hard and for what? To bury the woman he loved? It was all for nothing. In the end, that’s all he had…nothing.

Aaron had quickly reverted to his previous ways, hoping to drown out the unrelenting pain that haunted him day and night. He hated life, hated the four rowdy friends who couldn’t wait to pull him back into their fold. Where once he’d found some measure of joy in the constant partying, now it was merely an escape from the horrors of an unjust world.

He closed his eyes as the breeze brushed over him, lifting the hairs on his arms. His mind drifted with the sensation, imagining Melinda was here with him, gently dancing her fingers against his skin. She’d kiss her way down his throat, while she toyed his nipples into hard dots meant for suckling. While her lips played there, her hands would wander to his cock, stroking, kneading…

Aaron clutched at the erection that burst to life. “Not now…please.”

In his present state, relief wouldn’t be possible. He was too drunk. The fact he had a hard-on at all was a shock. But with memories of Melinda assaulting him, his dick refused to obey the rules. All he could think about was how great her lips felt around him, how tight her hot pussy felt when he was inside, and how painfully lonely the world was with her gone.

Emotion clogged Aaron’s throat. Tears welled up behind his eyelids. Hand shaking, he lifted the bottle to his lips. A sudden gust of wind knocked him off-balance. Arms flailing, he toppled backward. The vodka bottle shattered against the boulder.

Aaron sat on the hard cushion of sand. Moonlight glinted off the shards of glass. Fear welled up inside him. He needed the forgetfulness in that bottle. The pain in his heart was too much to bear without it.

He hugged his knees to his chest. That’s when he noticed the blood. His hand was cut and he hadn’t—still didn’t—felt a thing. Heartache was more than he could bear, but a cut like this…nothing. It was really bleeding, too.

Wonder if it needs stitches? In his fogged brain he tried to calculate the distance to the nearest hospital. A coyote’s howl nearby snapped him upright. He was just pondering whether they could scent blood like a shark when he heard Joe stomping back his way.

“What the fuck, man. You comin’ or not?”

“I fell. Jesus, cut me some fuckin’ slack.”

Aaron shoved himself to his feet. He staggered there for a second or two, then followed Joe. At least the hard-on was gone. He glanced down to make sure and stumbled over his feet, nearly plowing into the other man.

Joe caught his shoulder to steady him. “You okay? Jeez, what happened to your hand?”

Aaron pulled away when he reached for it. “Bottle broke. It’s just a cut. It’ll stop bleeding soon. What was so all-fired important that we had to stop in the middle of nowhere?”

“Check it out.” He motioned to where the other three stood, just beyond a sign that read, “Government Facility. Restricted Area. No Trespassing.”

What little morality Aaron had remaining reared its head. He pulled Joe back. “Are you nuts? This is a restricted area. You’re going to have us thrown in jail.”

“Like we’re gonna get caught way out here. And since when did a little something like rules stop you?” He trudged onward.

Aaron followed reluctantly behind. God only knew where they were. Visions of Area 51 gendarmes swooping down on them filled his head. They weren’t in that area, were they? He’d paid no attention to the direction in which Joe had driven. His only interest had been in reaching the bottom of the bottle.

“What is it?” he asked as he crept forward. Please don’t let it be an alien, his drunken brain whined.
“Take a look.” Joe pointed to six rectangular boxes. They looked like—

“Are those caskets?” Aaron asked.

“Sure enough.” He actually sounded proud of the discovery. “I found them the last time I came through. I was looking for a place to take a leak and there they were. Suppose it’s a desert cemetery someone dug up?”

Aaron frowned. They were old coffins, nothing more than pine boxes. But they didn’t have the aged look he would have associated with a desert cemetery. Still…it was night. “Where are the bodies that were inside?”

“Ewww…” Joe adopted a spooky voice. “Maybe it’s a vampire lair.”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot. Let’s get out of here.” He turned to go.

“Scaredy-cat. I’ll pay you fifty bucks to lay down in one.”

The other three snickered—their comment on everything.

So, that’s what this was all about. Aaron tossed up his hands. “Whatever. I’ll play your stupid game.” Anything to get out of here and on the road. The bleeding hadn’t stopped. He really needed to find a hospital.

He staggered over to the nearest coffin. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. Shaking his head to clear it, Aaron hoisted himself inside and stretched out.

“Satisfied?” he asked. “Pay up.” But he couldn’t move. Weakness overwhelmed him.

I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.

His mind slipped into the limbo stage of twilight sleep. Soon the nightmares would take him and there was nothing Aaron could do to stop them. He drifted on a sea of nothingness. Two tunnels lay ahead—one dark, one light—and there he hovered, waiting…waiting…waiting.

Maneater by Caitlyn Willows



MANEATER
by Caitlyn Willows
Contemporary Erotic Romance - Menage - BDSM
February 2009
Cover Artist - Anne Cain

Good things come to those who wait. It’s a motto Julia Green has come to live by. It keeps her world ordered and structured, and when you are a successful businesswoman by day and a well respected dominatrix by night, order and structure are paramount. But even Type A overachievers need a challenge. How can she resist the lure of three gorgeous men who want to hire all her services? Challenge? These three keep her on her toes, and give Julia much more than she bargained for: an alpha male whose natural dominance lets her submit, a protégé who wants that special lifestyle in which Julia has thrived, and a sexual submissive who craves a woman to take charge in the bedroom. Good things have come…over and over again. Julia needs them all and now that she has them, she’s never letting go, especially not the man who holds not only her body, but her heart.

Related stories are:
Maneater
Soleil
Raven
Oliver

BUY LINKS

REVIEWS:

FIVE BLUE RIBBONS! Caitlyn Willows never fails to delight her readers with unique storylines and loveable characters. MANEATER is a hot story full of sexual tension, humor and self discovery. Evan, Richard and Spencer have buried themselves in work and for the most part ignore their own needs. The dominatrix Maneater forces them to acknowledge their needs and accept who they are and what they need. On the flip side, Maneater/Julia is very confident that she knows best and isn’t used to being answerable to anyone – that is until she ticks off the men and then she learns otherwise. Ms. Willows does a beautiful job showing the various aspects of the BDSM lifestyle and how each person’s needs must be taken into consideration. I’d love to know what happens after this story ends so I’m really hopeful that we’ll be revisiting Maneater and her men. ~Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies

FOUR CUPS! This is an exceptionally sexual story that will have you breathing erratically and your glasses steaming up. Wonderful creative characters and a steady dialog along with a deep emotional plot are the center of this fabulous tale. This story lets your imagination run wild as you enjoy romps with these characters. It would take a mighty woman to handle three men and Maneater definitely is that woman. Explosive and very hot erotic sex scenes are the icing on this delicious story. A not to be missed book. ~Wateena, Coffee Time Romance And More

Caitlyn Willows does a good job of grabbing the attention of the reader right away, and continues with witty dialogue and clever secrets. It’s admirable to see how these three really good friends created a successful business, while being so totally different. Julia’s taking over and getting things in top shape shows off her ability to organize and manage the office, and while all the men have something to offer, she can’t help being in lust specifically with Evan. Propositions, steamy, hot sex, unexpected relationships and a fulfilling conclusion, guarantees a good read with Maneater. ~Priscilla Petty, Night Owl Romance

While MANEATER has sizzling sex and scorching BDSM scenes, the emotional interaction between the characters is what makes this tale an enthralling read. Be sure to head on over to...grab your copy of MANEATER by Caitlyn Willows. ~Holly Tibbs, RRTErotic Reviews

EXCERPT:

“I feel a shift in the Force.”

Spencer’s words might sound like bullshit, but Evan could tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he meant every word. Besides, Evan felt it too. So did the clients sitting beside their desks. Whatever had happened in the lobby was enough to halt all conversation in midstream. A flash of blonde caught his eye, then sunlight as the back door opened.

“Excuse me,” he told the supplier. “I’ll be right back.”

Panic welled up for the second time that day. Evan couldn’t believe Phoebe had made good on her threat to quit. Once he cleared the office door, he darted down the hall and out the back. Phoebe had her sneakers on and was halfway to the parking lot.

“Wait!”

She turned a smile his way and kept walking backward. “I’m going to get lunch. I won’t be long.”
“But the phone…the clients.” Had she gone nuts?

“Julia’s got that covered.” She spun around and bounced off. He’d never seen Phoebe so…buoyant.
By “Julia,” he presumed she meant Julia Green. If so, the woman was as good as her word. It’d been a little over an hour since he’d called her service, and already a temp hire was in place. The fact she hadn’t bothered to introduce herself was a little annoying; since they were up to their ears in work, he could forgive the slight. But he was still going to take a few minutes and meet her.

Evan hurried back inside. He realized the difference in the atmosphere immediately -- the shift in “the Force” that Spencer had mentioned. The rock station Phoebe loved wasn’t on. Someone had replaced it with classical music and at a volume low enough to soothe and placate a person, not blast them away. He was surprised at the difference the type of music made.

He paused long enough in his office to tell his visitor he’d be “just a few minutes longer,” then went through to the waiting room. The empty waiting room. Stunned, Evan stared at the vacant chairs. A woman sitting at Phoebe’s desk, juggling phone calls while she organized stacks of mail, design concepts, and sample binders, finally caught his attention. She’d opted for a telephone headset that kept her hands free yet busy. How it managed to stay in place without messing up her French twist was, he was sure, a miracle. Of course, he’d always been mystified how women got their hair to do the things they did with it.

Evan studied her as she worked, processing one call after the other with an efficiency that made Amy’s diligence pale in comparison. Finally it dawned on him what she was wearing. He’d never seen so much brown in one place in his whole life. Everything the woman wore -- everything except for those huge, black-rimmed glasses -- was some shade of brown. Her faux-suede skirt hugged her hips, then flared to her shins. Her beigeish blouse looked like it was a size too large. Nails? Evan glanced at them. Natural, he decided. Buffed, but not polished.

He had an uncanny feeling that this wasn’t what Julia Green normally looked like. The word “camouflage” came to mind. Like she was trying to hide herself. Yet, while she might be trying not to stand out physically, professionally, his first impression of her was “unforgettable.” The power radiating from her sent shivers down his spine.

God, he loved women who could kick ass.

Somehow sensing his presence, she ended the call and smiled up at him. She extended her slim hand his way. “Hello, I’m Julia Green.”

Evan accepted the handshake. It was firm, confident. More pluses. “Evan Fairfax. Julia Green, as in the owner of Julia’s Gems? I never imagined --”

“Amy and I are old friends. I promised her that if you called, we would supply the very best for her team while she was gone. Needless to say, I was glad that you did. I wouldn’t want Amy to worry needlessly. She should take her time off to enjoy bonding with her baby and firming up her family unit.”
“And not worrying about us,” he added.

“Exactly.” She pulled her hand away and handed him the stack of mail. “Everything’s sorted for you.”

He wrapped his hand around the bundle. “Thanks. I’ll go through it during lunch.”

“Which will be as soon as Phoebe returns,” she answered. “She’s bringing back sandwiches. Perhaps we can all sit in the conference room and get better acquainted, go over the schedule.”

Evan’s eyes narrowed, her take-charge attitude rubbing him the wrong way a little. She was just a temp, for God’s sake, not their real office manager. “Sounds good.”

Were her eyes brown, or did he detect a hint of green there? Hard to tell with those glasses. Did she really need to wear those ugly things? Why not contacts? She was pretty enough, and it looked like she had a weak prescription. Her eyes would really stand out without them. Or was that why she opted for glasses? To help with her little-brown-mouse routine? Her skin was flawless, her makeup light. Evan sniffed. No perfume. And such a long neck. Her pulse fluttered at the base, as if begging for his lips…

Evan mentally shook his rambling thoughts aside. He jerked his head toward the empty waiting room chairs. “What happened to all the clients?”

“I handled it. It was a mix of vendors, decorators dropping off sample designs and swatches, walk-in clients who weren’t scheduled for appointments, things of that nature. I’ll bring in all the information during our lunch meeting.”

Julia turned her back on him to answer the phone. Her apparent dismissal grated on Evan’s nerves. She might be their salvation, but he’d be damned if he let her take over. He raked his gaze down her back to that shapely bottom she’d hidden behind her drab clothes. It’d been a long time since he’d had a woman over his knee. Too long.

“One moment, please.” She placed the call on hold and glanced up at him, yes bright. “Yes, sir? Was there something else?”

Sir…damn right. “No, we’re good now.” And now that he had her full attention, Evan turned his back on her. She still managed the last laugh, only she didn’t know it.

He was hard as a rock.
* * * * *

Julia pulled in a slow breath. She’d wanted a challenge. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon and catch her so unaware. Seeing Evan Fairfax across a crowded room didn’t give justice to the full impact of the man. He reeked testosterone. The wave came close to knocking Julia to her shaking knees. She expected him to peel her panties off with his teeth and shove his face in her crotch. Even more surprising, she was perfectly willing to let him do so. He called to that submissive side Julia rarely let others see. Or rather, rarely found anyone willing to take that command.

Just a few minutes in the man’s presence and Julia could tell that Evan fit the alpha role naturally. A born leader, a Dominant in all his glory. He’d take her all right. Push her up against the wall with those firm hands, nail her there with a look, and strip her for a leisurely taste. Splay her on top of the counter before her and run his tongue over all her secret places. Then push her to all fours on the floor and stab his cock deep inside. Oh, yes. Julia found herself getting wet. And there’d be nothing she could do about it. Nothing she’d want to do about it, except take every blessed inch.

His blue eyes missed nothing, despite the dark circles under them testifying he needed a good night’s sleep. She’d sensed him delving beneath the surface of her disguise, searching for the woman hidden within. He wasn’t dumb. Evan Fairfax had caught on right away that she was more than she purported to be. She’d have to be oh-so-careful. A momentary twinge of panic hit her. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. She could easily assign someone else to work at Diamond Dust. She’d just tell them that she’d filled in until the temp could come on board. That was plausible. As for the issue of them wanting to hire Maneater…

Indecision plagued Julia, an even rarer event than meeting a man dominant enough to tempt her.
“You must be Julia Green.”

A hand appeared before her. Julia blinked and slipped her fingers into it, wondering how the man had managed to sneak up on her. “Yes.”

“Richard Hall. A pleasure to have you here. We were drowning. I didn’t realize how much we’d grown to depend on Amy. I hope we haven’t sent her screaming from us forever. I can hear her now, ‘I’d take twenty hours of labor over you guys any day of the week.’”

Julia laughed. She liked him instantly: his ready smile, his charm, his sparkling brown eyes. And the man knew how to dress. Where Evan oozed testosterone, Richard’s aura projected self-confidence. She’d been expecting someone self-absorbed, since Amy indicated he spent a lot of time checking his appearance when he thought others weren’t looking.

“Perhaps I can help you and your partners find some middle ground,” she said. “I understand the business has grown by leaps and bounds lately. A new game plan might be in order.”

“I agree, especially now when things are going crazy. A little self-evaluation never hurts.”

Odd that the little phrase had come her way twice today. “We can discuss a few things over lunch.”
“Wonderful. Amy’s office is the first on your right, by the way.”

A charmer with focus, one who wanted to get right down to work with few preliminaries. The pleasing-to-the-eye package hid a shark inside. Julia could appreciate that; however, a little tempering wouldn’t hurt. Then she caught the flash of pink in his cheeks. It happened so quickly, she might have missed it if she’d blinked. Richard was nervous! Hiding inside his business mode and apparent vanity were his shields. Realizing that brought her protective self to the fore.

“Richard, you are such a slave driver.” Julia started as a man appeared around the corner of her desk. “Spencer Griffith.” The last partner she had yet to meet extended his hand, which she shook. He gave Richard a look. “You could have offered her coffee or water, maybe even showed her where the restrooms are.” He gave a slight, disgusted shake of his head. But Julia saw the smile tugging at the side of his mouth and realized it was said in jest. “My apologies, Julia. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water? Give you a quick tour of the office?”

Another protector, quickly covering Richard’s unease. A caregiver as well. He wanted everyone happy and comfortable, but he’d just demonstrated that he wouldn’t do so at the cost to his partners. For him, though, they would also be his primary concern, even above his own needs. Julia wanted to lay the world at his feet.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Another firm handshake. “Although knowing where the bathroom is might come in handy.”

The comment earned her a polite chuckle, yet neither of them enlightened her as to the whereabouts of said restroom. Fortunately, Phoebe’s return covered any possible awkwardness.

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder -- “Everything’s in the conference room” -- and slipped into the seat Julia vacated.

“Excellent.” Julia gathered the work she’d collected in the short time she’d been there, hooked her purse over her shoulder, and sidestepped the men. “Gentlemen, I’ll be waiting.”

Evan cut her off before she could reach the conference room. “Did you see who delivered this?”
He waved Maneater’s signature invitation in front of her -- black cardstock edged in gold. She’d calligraphed the penthouse address and time on the back in her own hand. Julia couldn’t tell whether fear or excitement lit up his face. She hated not being able to read a person. This one -- Evan -- definitely threw her instincts off-kilter.

“It was delivered with the mail.” She moved the heavy sample books to her other arm. “Why?”

He flicked the envelope up between two fingers. “There’s no return address. No mailing address. Just our names.”

“What is it?” Richard took the invite from him and smiled. “Well, I’ll be…”

Spencer glanced over Richard’s shoulder and flushed. “Oh.”

Julia craned her neck. “May I know --”

“No!” they all said in unison.

Trying not to laugh at them was nearly impossible.

“I was just wondering how it arrived. Thanks,” Evan muttered.

Like boys with a purloined Playboy, they ducked in to their office. The last thing Julia heard before she continued on to the conference room was, “There’s an RSVP number. Call it.”

Julia smiled when her cell phone shuddered against her ribs from inside her purse. “Here we go, gentlemen.” And she had exactly one afternoon to lock onto their personalities before Maneater met with them tonight. One afternoon to decide whether her libido needed to take a hike or go for it. Having met the three up close and personal, there was little doubt what she’d do.

She wanted them -- all three of them. And she wanted them now. Julia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the predicament. Once Maneater took the three, any snippet of a chance with Evan disappeared for Julia. But wasn’t that doomed before it started? She didn’t realize she’d truly wanted a start with Evan until this moment. Now she was mourning the loss of something that had never been and never would be. Was it best to take what she could get rather than nothing at all?

She closed the door to Amy’s office and locked it for ensured privacy while she called Oliver. He let the phone ring four times before he answered. She sighed, growing irritated. Teaching her a lesson, no doubt. She heard the smirk in his voice when he answered. Smart aleck.

“I’m going to need a little help tonight.”

“Really? How odd.”

She reaffirmed her assessment. Smart-ass.

“What can we do to help you with your…challenge?”

Two could play this game. Julia had learned that from the master himself. “Now, dearest, don’t you always know exactly what I need?”

Oliver chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I do. The question is, are you ready to receive it?”

She was glad they weren’t face-to-face.

“I’ll see if Lori and Rachel are available. They always give a good demonstration.”

“Will you be there too?” she asked.

“I’ll be around. Discreetly, of course.” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Thursday, March 29, 2018

High Roller by Caitlyn Willows








HIGH ROLLER
by Caitlyn Willows
Erotic Romance - SciFi/Futuristic - Short Story
April 2014 (previously released February 2006)
Cover Art © Lacey Savage

When Nikos Dirvan's spaceship crashes to Earth near Las Vegas, he is thrust into a world he's only read about. One thing he does know is how a woman should be treated. Carla Fletcher needs two things--to escape her manipulative husband and to heal her soul. Can this strange high roller help her as he's promised?




REVIEWS

FIVE HEARTS! Caitlyn Willows pens a fascinating story with characters for whom the reader feels an immediate empathy. Nikos and Carla are both endearing characters, poised against the backdrop of that hateful villain Drake and his father, and this reviewer found herself cheering for the couple from the very beginning. This was my introduction to the stories of Ms. Willows and she has moved to my must-read-authors list. ~Annie, The Romance Studio

FOUR RIBBONS! HIGH ROLLER will take you on a breathtaking ride as you read through the pages as quickly as you can, because you can't wait to see what happens next! Will love ultimately conquer all? Love, not only for another person, but love for oneself as well? You’ll have to read HIGH ROLLER to find out! I can't wait to see what Ms. Willows has in store for us next! ~Kimberly, Romance Junkies

FOUR ANGELS! Caitlyn Willows has written an imaginative short story that might not end exactly how readers envision at the beginning. However, the conclusion is quite sweet and well deserved. Nikos learns more things in Las Vegas then he imagined he would. Carla finds something in Nikos that she never expected. With touching passion, Carla and Nikos offer readers a wonderful connection that will leave a smile on their face. High Roller is a quick read, but one that is pleasurable and worth spending an hour curled up with. 4 Angels! ~Shayley, Fallen Angel Reviews

EXCERPT

Nikos Dirvan fought the controls of his star runner, silently willing stealth mode to stay on-line. The small ship shot through the moonless night like a meteorite. If he lost invisibility, it sure wouldn’t look like one, though. Earth’s military forces would be on him before he knew it, if that happened. He’d be captured, his recon mission compromised, and…well…he’d sure never see his home world again.

Rumors abounded of how vessels had been confiscated and pulled apart by Earthmen. Their captains and crews were imprisoned like animals to be studied copiously, then horribly dissected at their demise and kept locked for all eternity in a vault to be constantly evaluated. Those souls never knew the peace of a final resting place…or so it was said.

But the Talorian government never fell prey to rumor. They lived for facts. Hence this fact-finder project. For years Nikos’ people had been quietly monitoring those on Earth, gathering information under the cloak of invisibility. Occasionally, Talorians would filter into mainstream society for more in-depth analysis. The wealth of data they’d collected was staggering. The rumors had never been confirmed or denied, but Nikos’ coworkers were careful not to be detected. So far, so good…until tonight.

He’d hit a dense patch of polluted air over an area called Los Angeles minutes before, clogging the star runner’s intake manifolds. Nikos had lost power in seconds. He’d barely had the time to switch command control into the sub-unit generator before the small ship started hurtling to earth. Banking hard, he’d managed to keep aloft, gliding on the thermal currents while the sub-unit kept the cloaking shield in place. That safeguard wasn’t going to last long. Already, the violet warning light flashed in a frantic plea for immediate attention. Any minute now…

“Warning. Shield integrity at critical low. Evasive action necessary to avoid detection.”

The computer voice synthesizer mimicked the panic this moment decreed. The designers had felt weaving emotion into the program would provide solace to captains on long, lonely flights. But at this moment, the voice was a definite irritant, digging beneath his skin like the shrill cry of a rashuka searching for its covey, who were likely only mere yards away.

Nikos liked animals as much as the next person, but rashukas had to be the stupidest avians ever created. Their nests consisted of a couple twigs tossed precariously on the low-hanging limbs of the whisper tree, where they were prey to everything taller than knee height. They were horribly nearsighted, perching on anything and anyone. But they were a beautiful breed boasting colors of turquoise, lavender, and crimson among their feathers. They were devoted parents, friends, and they mated for life. Those qualities made their annoyances worth bearing…most of the time.
“Warning. Shield integrity—”

Nikos punched off the screech. He needed focus, not distraction. If Command wanted to provide solace for their captains, they could have reinstated the soft Companion Comfort beds that gave pleasure on command. Now there was a benefit he could stand. Though not as sweet as plugging his cock into a real woman, the simulation would have given him much needed relief on these long flights.

Unfortunately, one previous captain had spent too much time in the bed and little on his mission. Word filtered through the ranks the man had actually managed to short-circuit the device from overuse. More tales indicated he’d been engaged in his favorite pastime and was nearly detected. Nikos didn’t know what of it was true, if any. The story could very well have been conjured so Command would have an excuse to remove the beds. They wanted their pilots alert and on edge. Nikos was certainly that—alert and on edge.

The small craft shuddered. It was time to find a safe haven. The desolate patch of desert below looked perfect. He pointed the bow downward, fighting gravity to glide to a soft landing. Gravity won. Fanning the air brakes, Nikos managed to level out, but he was still closing the parallel distance fast. He saw the outcropping of rock too late. One smack tumbled the runner nose over tail. Sand, rock, and other debris flew by the viewing port. A final tumble landed his craft upright. It skidded to a stop in the cradle of brush perched on the bank of a dry wash.

Nikos slowly peeled his fingers from the steering column and dared a breath as he assessed any damage to himself. Other than shaken nerves and a desperate urge to relieve himself, he seemed fine. A green flicker caught his eye through the viewport, a clear sign the shield was failing.

“Re-route all systems to shield integrity,” he told the computer as he unsnapped his seatbelt and punched the audio back on.

“Shield integrity holding,” the computer calmly replied.

“How long will the sub-unit generator keep the shield intact?”

“Twenty-hour Earth hours.”

Normally, that would be enough time to clear the intake manifolds, but with the landing he’d just had…

“Computer, damage report.”

“Ruptured fuel line. Fuel dissipating rapidly. Other damage is cosmetic and will not interfere with flight. Generator is charged for twenty-four Earth hours. Using stored power in the mobile pack will give an additional six hours.”

“How much fuel is gone?”

There was a moment of silence. “Fuel tanks are now empty.”

Nikos closed his eyes and leaned into the headrest. “Is the rupture repairable?”

“Affirmative. A laser torch will fuse the edges.”

Then it was probably a good thing the tanks were empty; he would have had to purge them anyway to avoid a fire. As long as he hugged the ship, the shielding would also hide his presence and repair efforts.

He shoved to his feet and snagged the laser torch from its lock-hold on the toolbar as he walked to the hatch. There he paused at the door, hand poised over the access panel. His first taste of Earth air. Nikos wished he could be happier about it, wished he could explore and indulge his curiosity. If he made it back to port after this trip, maybe he could convince Command to promote him out of Overflights and into Contacts.

He pushed the panel and inhaled the fresh scent that drifted through the open portal before hurrying to his task. A dark patch in the sand spread out from his vessel, a telltale sign of leakage. The warmth from Earth’s sun would evaporate it come daylight. Running his fingers on the underside of the hull, Nikos quickly found the breach and sealed it.

Now to refuel.

He slipped inside the ship, returning the torch to its designated spot. “Computer, please scan for the nearest source for fuel.”

“Nearest source is fifty miles northeast. City of Las Vegas. Scanners reveal a profusion of rich fuel transportable in multiple containers. However, acquisition must be made with Earth coinage and in heavily populated areas. Protocols call for—”

“Acknowledged.” Nikos knew the directive by heart—assume Earth attire, identity, and mannerisms. Hopefully, the monetary denominations his predecessors had acquired would be sufficient to purchase his fuel and be on his way.

He retrieved the Earth clothing, so much more binding than his pasfa-soft flight suit. At least the colors were similar—midnight blue. He tucked the cap on his head wondering what the significance was of the image on the front—a pirate from early Earth days named “Raiders.” The white shoes were comfortable enough and were called “Nike.” Earthlings seemed to be fond of naming their clothing. The shirt had a symbol over the heart. The pants were named Dockers. A strange custom, but who was he to judge?

Nikos looped the thin, webbed mobile pack around his waist, tucking the laser torch into his pocket. It could make an effective weapon if necessary. He prayed it wouldn’t be.

“Warning,” the computer nagged. “Use of mobile pack will diminish energy reserves.”

“Note to Command,” Nikos replied. “Mobile pack needed to acquire fuel. Assuming Earth protocol to do so. Computer, if the sub-unit generator should fail before my return, your instructions are to notify Command and self-destruct. Acknowledged?”

“Affirmative, Captain Dirvan. This vessel will self-destruct in twenty-three hours, thirty minutes.”

“Instituting Earth Protocol Omega. Dirvan out.”

“Acknowledged.” The computer’s console faded to black.

Nikos stepped into the desert night once more, sealing the hatch behind him. He activated the mobile pack, sealing himself from view as he moved away from the vessel. Safely away, he lifted into the sky and aimed for the halo of lights called Las Vegas.

Have Mercy by Caitlyn Willows




HAVE MERCY
by Caitlyn Willows
Contemporary Erotic Romance (BDSM, menage)
December 2017
Cover Artist – Trace Edward Zaber

Ike expects a lot from a woman. Someone who can match his own unique needs and then some. He’s been lusting after Mercy for months. It’s time to make his move or move on.

Past relationship disasters have made Mercedes damn scared to date. This time she’s playing for keeps, she’s playing for Ike, and he’s going to know upfront she plays hard.

His response to the news…Have Mercy! And she’s going to have him right back because she is one lady who can give as good as she gets.


NOTE: This is a reissue of a previously released story.

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Ike Campbell winced with every sour note that came out of Dottie Sullivan’s mouth. The DJ should have stuck with playing music and letting people dance under the strobe of colored lights twirling overhead. Karaoke was never a good idea when people were sober. Offering it after a couple of drinks was excruciating. At a party that was supposed to commemorate the merger of Sullivan Advertising and Byers Promotional Support…

Ike shook his head, and not for the first time. The joining of ad giants Sullivan and Byers was a big deal, but it seemed a little over the top to have the event happen on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a marriage. It was a business venture. Still, everyone had been on edge waiting for the final papers to go through. The party was the bosses’ way of letting the employees blow off a little steam, have fun, and bond—Sullivan Advertising in Los Angeles, Byers Promotional Support in New York City. The problem was, most of them were overcompensating while they waited for the stroke of midnight on the east coast when the merger became final. Nerves, he supposed.

Despite that, everyone seemed to be having a good time. Awful as the singing was, Ike had to admire those brave enough to risk humiliation and get up there. He sure as hell understood the need to cut loose.

Since he’d transferred to the Los Angeles office six months before, he’d been one hundred percent focused on work. There were still boxes around his house that needed to be unpacked. The stress was starting to show. Not so much outwardly—he really didn’t like taking his frustration out on others—but he felt it crawling inside.

He’d been missing New York a lot lately. The visit to the family at Christmas had been just that, a visit. He hadn’t had any time to slip away to his favorite club and indulge his needs. He sure as hell hadn’t had any time to research any clubs locally. The offer he couldn’t refuse to transfer to Sullivan had started to feel like a prison sentence. No one was more relieved than Ike that the merger was finally complete. Come this weekend…

That made him smile. That’s exactly what he’d planned to do—come until his balls collapsed. All he needed was a place…and a partner…or partners. One particular lady came to mind.

Ike’s body tightened at the thought of having Mercedes Suazo over his lap, her sweet ass bared. He’d been mesmerized by her from the second he’d arrived at Sullivan Advertising, one of the largest and best ad agencies in the Los Angeles area. There was an aura about her that hinted of something more. At least, that’s what Ike’s testosterone-laden mind wanted to believe. Though they worked in separate departments, he’d done his best to see their paths crossed often. Working twenty-four seven made hooking up impossible. The best he’d been able to accomplish was wolfing down a quick lunch with her…and their coworkers. But the work was over. He was taking that shot…if he could find her again.

He craned his neck scanning the crowded room. again. He’d seen her when he’d arrived, looking so hot every cock in the place probably lifted its head in appreciation. After flashing him a smile he interrupted as let’s play, she’d disappeared into a group of women on the far side of the room, and he’d been dragged off to sit with the people from his section. He’d waited for her long enough. As soon as everyone toasted the merger, he was going to find her and explore that smoldering heat he’d seen in her deep brown eyes.

Eddie Kohler plopped down beside him. “God, that’s painful. Someone take the mic from Dottie. Please.”

His slurred voice was loud enough to carry over the music. Under normal circumstances, his nose was shoved so far up the boss’s ass that he couldn’t breathe. He was clearly too drunk to realize he’d insulted the boss’s wife…and everyone, including the boss, had heard him.

“Dottie’s having fun. Who’s cares?” Ike shot the man a glare. “If you think you can do any better, you go up there.”

Eddie snorted. “I’m not gonna go up there and make a fool of myself.”

“I can see your point.” Ike smirked. “Why waste the energy when you can sit here and do the same thing?”

Eddie smacked his beer bottle on the table. “You’re an ass.” Nevertheless, he shoved to his feet and staggered through the tables toward the stage. In less time than it had taken for Ike to issue his challenge, Eddie had the microphone in his hand. At least he’d had the presence of mind to wait for Dottie to finish.

“If you thought that was off-key, wait until you hear this. I guarantee I’d win any worst singer contest.” He snapped his finger at the DJ, and the music started—Shania Twain’s Man! I Feel Like A Woman! Any ill will Eddie’s previous comment had created dissipated in the explosion of laughter that followed.

“Now that’s painful.” Mercedes Suazo’s voice sank into Ike’s veins like warm honey.

Goose bumps rained over his neck and trickled down his body when her breath touched his ear. He’d been fantasizing about having her spread naked before him, and here she was. She’d come to him. It was all Ike could do to not grab her and hoist her over his lap. He swore the look in her eyes begged him to do just that.

Message received, baby.

The goddess slipped into the seat Eddie had vacated. The heat from her body radiated to him, scoring a path straight to the hard-on that raged every time he was near her, saw her, or thought about her. And he thought about her a lot.

She was the fantasy he beat-off to in the shower—her bare ass over his lap red from spanking, her standing over his bound body whip in hand. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d come thinking of her. Staring at her now, at her big brown eyes, those full lips that begged to be kissed, that silky fall of dark brown hair…


His cock throbbed for freedom. This was pain—this unrelenting ache of wanting her.

Gypsy Fire by Caitlyn Willows





GYPSY FIRE
by Caitlyn Willows
Paranormal Romance (Short Story)
August 2007
Cover Art ©Lacey Savage

“Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be. Whoever holds gypsy fire holds the key to riches beyond imagination. It is a powerful ally and a dangerous foe.”

That’s the family legend behind a mysterious coin owned by Riley Hathaway’s great-grandmother and left to her. But she felt the fire for attorney Patrick Spencer long before the coin sliced their fingers and mingled their blood. While her sisters fight for ownership of the coin and the riches they know it will bring, Riley learns its true wealth. Only Patrick can stoke true gypsy fire, and only he can quench it.

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Review:

This is a cool story; one with passion, fire, and genuine emotions throughout. The situation the couple finds themselves in only fuels the fire between them and makes them enjoyable. A wonderful quick read that leaves you with some unexpected twists that will delight the reader. Another winner for Ms. Willows. ~Matilda, Coffee Time Romance

EXCERPT

Patrick Spencer watched Riley Hathaway battle the grief threatening to overwhelm her. Even with makeup, pale freckles stood out against her otherwise porcelain skin. Freckles…the curse of every redhead he’d ever known. Of the three he’d had to deal with in the last month, he was ready to throw two of them into the Pacific Ocean with lead boots. The third one? Well, it was hard to believe she was related to the other two. He would have done anything to spare her this pain.

He’d known Fiona Hathaway since he was a boy filing pocket parts in the California Code Annotated at his family’s law office. Who would’ve guessed he’d be the one to handle her estate now? She’d been old then at seventy-five. Now approaching one hundred, her time left was measured in hours. She’d outlived everyone in her family except her three great-granddaughters.

When it came right down to it, her active lifestyle was what had brought her down. One misstep as she rushed out the door a month before had sent Fiona tumbling off her front porch when she hit a spot weakened by termites. Riley had called the exterminators that very day to have the place inspected and fumigated. Fortunately, they caught the infestation at the beginning—only that one spot would need to be replaced.

Unfortunately, Fiona had hit her head and broken her hip on the flagstone walkway. At some point pneumonia had set in and refused to leave, despite the regime of antibiotics the doctor had placed her on. She’d been fighting hard but losing fast. Her periods of awareness had been few and she’d been barely coherent during them. Each breath more labored than the one before it.

When his grandfather and father had asked, Patrick didn’t hesitate to take the lead in seeing her affairs ran smoothly during this time. He’d helped Riley settle her at home with a visiting nurse so Fiona could pass in peace in her own bed as she’d wished, and he was at the house almost as much as Riley. Once he realized what opportunistic bitches Heather and Jillian were, Patrick made sure he was always there when Riley was not. No one was going to take advantage of Fiona. He remembered her laughing blue eyes, sharp wit, quick smile, and the peppermint pillow mints she always carried for “good little boys and girls.” Riley had all of those qualities too, right down to the mints in her purse.
Her sisters, however, were a piece of work. Even now they paced the corridors outside Fiona’s bedroom, waiting like vultures for the old girl to draw her last breath. Part of his job was to see they didn’t pick her apart afterward—or rather, her estate. Fiona’s instructions had been clear. He was here to help carry them out.

While Heather and Jillian were greatly inconvenienced by Fiona’s lengthy stay on earth, Riley was heart-sick over her inevitable demise. She spent as many hours as possible by her great-grandmother’s side, holding her hand, tracing the blue veins showing through Fiona’s paper-thin skin, talking and reading to her, kissing her wrinkled cheek, falling asleep in the chair beside her. He’d caught Fiona’s smile focused on Riley more than once. Just as quickly as it appeared, it would fade as her body pulled back inside itself.

Fiona’s eyelids fluttered open, scattering his thoughts. His breath caught in fear that this was her last moment. He wanted to wrap his arms around Riley and shield her from the pain. To bury his face in her thick, red hair while he dealt with his own grief at the passing of one hell of a woman. So far he’d fought the urge to touch Riley in more than a casual manner, trying to keep a professional distance out of respect for her and his family’s business. But Patrick was losing that battle, just as surely as Fiona was losing the one she waged. He wanted to kiss Riley, slow and sweet, easing his way in and then pulling her tight against a body that had been hard as a rock since the second they’d met. He wanted their naked flesh burning against each other’s, fire whirlpooling around as they touched, tasted…

“Hi, Gram,” Riley said softly.

Patrick snapped his thoughts into place. His perpetual erection wasn’t so easily tamed when it came to Riley. He ordered it to physically subside, then did his best to ignore the throbbing monster.
Riley combed her fingers through Fiona’s silver-white hair. She’d kept it brushed and neat for her. Fiona had always been meticulous about her appearance—a trait all her great-granddaughters inherited. Heather and Jillian might be bitches from hell, but they dressed to understated perfection, as Riley did—not too much, not too little, just right for whatever the occasion might be. On this late fall day, when Southern California could be extra warm or cold depending on the minute, that was a thin sweater with slacks for the older sisters, a skirt for Riley. A skirt he desperately wanted to get under.

“Sweetheart, you look so tired.” Fiona’s voice was breathy, hard for her to get out.
She slid her gaze from Riley to him. The sparkle in her blue eyes had dimmed. Patrick admitted not seeing that glint of life scared him.

“You too,” she told him.

Her thin hand shook as she reached for the pendant that rarely left her neck—a silver coin with a silver chain threaded through a hole drilled at the top. She grabbed the coin too tightly, cutting her finger on the thin edge.

“Gram, here, let me help.” Riley’s hand shook as much as Fiona’s. “What are you trying to do?”
“Give to you. Yours now.”

“Oh, Gram.” A tear slipped down her cheek. The pain of her loss—his loss too—knifed through Patrick’s heart.

“Take it,” Fiona told her.

Riley snatched up a tissue from the box on the bedside table and blotted the blood from Fiona’s hand. The injury looked no worse than a bad paper cut. Riley plucked up the necklace and gently turned it around until the clasp was at the front. Her hands still shook too much to unlatch it.

“Here. Let me.” Their fingers brushed in passing. Sensation like liquid warmth slithered up his arm.
He thought he caught the semblance of a smile on Fiona’s lips as he unhooked the clasp. Once it was free, he cupped the pendant in his palm and let the chain slither down on top of it. Blood remained from Fiona’s cut. He watched the small spot settle in his heart-line.

Fiona wrapped her thin fingers around his wrist. Her grip was feather-like. “You’re holding gypsy fire. Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be.” Her chuckle was swallowed by a coughing spell.

He and Riley tried to prop her up to clear her lungs. When the fit had passed, she sagged into the pillows. “Send those other two in here. I want to speak to them alone.”

“Fiona—”

“Alone, Patrick. Riley needs some fresh air. See she gets it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He offered a smile and plumped her pillows behind her while Riley smoothed the bedcovers in place. She added a kiss to Fiona’s cheek, blinked away a rush of tears, and let him lead her from the room.
Patrick liked how she fit beside him—the right height at his shoulder, the right pace with his, the right everything, whether she wore flats like now or heels. He’d taken to having that proprietary touch of his hand to her back when he escorted her through doors. She’d never so much as flinched. In fact, he’d swear there were times she leaned into his touch. That action always made him feel omnipotent, as if he could conquer the world.

Her rust-colored sweater was tucked into a matching shin-length skirt, and he couldn’t help wondering if her skin was as soft as the sweater. With every step they took, her skirt brushed against his leg, distracting him all the more. He watched the way her shoulder-length hair kissed her neck and longed to pull it away and do the same, letting his lips memorize every inch.

Her sisters pounced on them when they walked into the hallway. Their gloomy presence could dim a supernova. They dulled the light in this otherwise bright old house. In the month he’d known them, Patrick hadn’t heard Heather or Jillian utter a kind word about anyone…unless it was a man they were interested in impressing. Both had tried over-the-top flirtations with him on that first day—hookers were less bold—then moved on to other fishing grounds when they learned he wanted nothing to do with the bait they tossed out. It didn’t take a genius to see these women were always looking for the easiest way, felt the world owed them a favor, and were out to get anything and everything they could grab. These were not nice women, a fact that detracted from their hot-as-hell looks.

That’s what made it so difficult to believe they shared the same genes as Riley. The older two had already blown through two trust funds and an inheritance and now circled, waiting for more. Riley had gotten a business degree, opened her own craft store, and tucked the rest away for the children she planned to have one day. She took care of Fiona too, making sure she had whatever she needed.

“Gram wants to see you,” Riley told them.

When Heather darted past her to go inside, Riley grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop.
Don’t upset her.”

Heather’s always-icy blue stare chilled a few more degrees. She didn’t bother with a response, just jerked free and swung open the door. Jillian hurried to catch up.

“That goes for you too,” Riley told her.

Her middle sister ignored her and shut the door in her face.

“Come on.” Hand at her back, Patrick turned her away. “Let’s walk around the garden.”

It gave him peace when he did so, and he was sure it did Riley, since he’d found her there on more than one occasion.

Riley glanced at the door over her shoulder, then placed her hand against his chest, right over his blue-striped tie. Could she feel the thump of his heart beneath it? Could she sense he wanted her hand lower, pressed against yet another erection, just as she pressed against the silk tie? On impulse, he wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed.

“I need…” She paused, lips parted. She focused on his mouth, then shifted her gaze to their locked hands. He realized he still had Fiona’s necklace in his palm.

“I believe this is intended for you.” Patrick folded the pendant into her hand.

Smiling, Riley closed her fingers around it. “I never thought I’d see the day it came off her neck permanently. She would’ve raised holy hell if she found out the staff had removed it at the hospital when she was admitted. Fortunately, I was able to retrieve it before she regained…” She gave a light laugh. “I guess I can’t say she’s ever fully regained her senses.”

Patrick touched the silver chain that dangled from her hand. “She was aware enough to know it was still around her neck. Imagine her upset if she’d found it gone.”

That brightened her smile. “True.” She rubbed the thin coin between her fingers.

“It was as much a part of her as the peppermints she carried in her purse. When I was a kid, I asked her if it was pirate treasure. She said…” He laughed lightly at the memory. She’d said then what she’d told them minutes before.

“It’s gypsy fire. Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be. Never forget that, young Patrick.”

Riley held the silver up between them. Age had worn the impressions on it to bare visibility and made it blade-thin. “Gypsy fire. That’s what she always called it.”

“I remember.” Patrick touched the surface next to her thumb. “It’s very old.”

“Centuries…if you believe the tale.”

“I don’t think I ever heard that one.”

Though Fiona had spun other stories for him when he visited the law office. She knew how to capture a child’s imagination. Even at the ripe “old age” of thirty-two Patrick still liked to hear them.
Riley’s eyes held some of the mischief he’d seen in Fiona’s. “Ages ago a necklace was forged over a campfire by a gypsy man for his gypsy love—”

“Over a gypsy fire.”

Riley giggled. “Exactly…and don’t forget this was in days of yore.”

He gave her a nod. “Of course. Continue, please.”

“He forged each coin from the finest silver, infused it with love. The hole in this one was drilled by his hand when he drilled the others to link. No one knows how many coins the necklace held, but it’s believed to have been a small fortune. On the night he was to give it to her, he found her ravished by another. He used the necklace as a garrote and strangled the man. It broke, scattering coins everywhere.

“Our lovestruck couple gathered as many as they could find and fled from the kingdom, for to stay meant certain death for one and banishment for the other. No one knows what became of them. Some say they lived happily ever after. Some say evil was attached to the coins once the man was killed. The coins are still found every so often, part of the gypsy fire, for there were so many on the necklace, the couple couldn’t take them all. One thing everyone does agree on is—”

“Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be.”

“Yes. Gram always told us too, that whoever holds gypsy fire holds the key to riches beyond imagination. It is a powerful ally and a dangerous foe. Choose wisely.” She laughed. “Rather like in an Indiana Jones movie.”

This was the happiest he’d seen her since they’d met a month before. Damn, he wanted to kiss her. Those bright blue eyes so filled with life looked into his right then. Patrick couldn’t breathe, much less think straight. Their fingers were still locked around the coin. Bound, some part of his mind said. Her lips parted—soft, inviting.

Time slowed as he bent toward her. He felt her breath become part of his. He was hot. Gypsy fire.
Their lips touched, froze together. A sigh settled them into the tender caress. Then, in unison, their tongues reached out, became one. The kiss deepened. His mind folded in on itself. He felt the touch of her chest to his, then her pelvis. But the coin locked them as one, not their arms. He deepened the kiss but it was Riley who demanded it of him. He wanted to feel her flesh, the heat of it, the silk of it, inside and out.

The bedroom door whipped open, shattering the moment. Still, they didn’t jerk from the kiss, merely pulled apart.

“Where the hell is it?” Heather demanded. She zeroed in on the coin clasped between their fingers. “Give me that. I’m the oldest. It’s rightfully mine.”

She snatched it away before they could stop her. The edges sliced through Patrick’s fingers like a razor. Riley’s gasp mirrored his. She’d been cut as well. He caught her hand and pressed his wounded fingers over hers while he glared at Heather.

“Fiona gave it to Riley,” he told her.

“Don’t.” Riley lifted her uninjured hand. “It’s not worth fighting over. All that matters is Gram. I have all I could possibly want or need.”

“I don’t.” Heather held up the coin. “But I’m going to.”

“Then I hope you enjoy it.” Riley slipped free of Patrick’s hold and walked away.


Heather’s smirk of triumph led her back to her great-grandmother’s side.


CATAPHILIA
by Caitlyn Willows
Erotic - Contemporary - BDSM - Menage (M/F/M) - Short Story
September 2013
Cover Art © Lacey Savage

She’d been promised a trip she’d never forget, an adventure to boggle her mind and warm her on cold nights. But first Lydia had to face her fears, had to trust in a love she never realized existed, had to dare for a man she longed for, and reach for the world Mark and Brent were offering when they take her beneath the ground and into the dark.

One word will stop it all. Another will give her victory over a lifelong phobia. It’s hard to say yes when one’s heart races in fear. It’s hard to say no when the adrenaline rush of dangerous men lead a woman into depths she’d never imagined and fantasies she’d only daydreamed.

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Excerpt:

Lydia stood before the Eiffel Tower on the edge of a crowded tour group of obnoxious Americans, bored out of her mind. She’d been promised a trip she’d never forget, an adventure to boggle her mind and warm her on cold nights. There was nothing adventurous about this, despite the night that showed the landmark in all its glory. Her nerves crawled, her temper spiked, and if she had to listen to the guide’s nasal tones one second longer...

“Lydia?” A deep voice rumbled through her. Right behind, heat rising over her as his breath tickled the shell of her ear. A presence ready to claim her, to bore into her very soul.

Her heartbeat kicked into double-time. “Yes?”

Eyes downcast, she turned her head slightly, but could see very little of the man, despite the streetlights and the continual stream of vehicles passing. He wore a dark shirt and trousers and tempted her with the scent of Brut. Her body trembled. That was the scent worn by the first boy she’d ever made out with. A romping session outside the school gym on a moonless night that found her pressed against the brick wall and her boyfriend dry humping her crotch to orgasm, while his tongue lashed around hers and his fingers groped her breasts.

“You’re to come with us,” another voice replied, softer, tempting, but with just as much command. There was a familiarity about it, and Lydia turned toward the newcomer. Again, dark obscured his features and his clothing helped camouflage him in the night.

“Why?” The word came out on a whispered breath. Yes, their approach intrigued her.
“Your adventure awaits.” The first man stepped closer, fingers dusting across her elbow, dissipating the scant barrier her long-sleeved cotton blouse provided. Goose bumps flared over her skin, riffling the hairs to attention. That’s when Lydia dared a full look in their direction.

Both wore fedoras and, beneath those, Zorro-type masks covered their features. Mystery men with broad shoulders and sculpted muscles that rippled beneath their shirts and made a girl want to wrap her arms and legs around. Yes, her trip to Paris was already looking up.

“Who are you?” Lydia was up for adventure, but she wasn’t stupid.

“We’re cataphiles.” The second one’s smile showed off his dimples. Recognition spiked through her.
“Mark?”

A slight nod confirmed her guess. “So much for the disguise.”

Her best friend and sometimes lover. He’d suggested Paris. Shoot, he’d even driven her to the airport. Then clearly hopped the next flight to join her.

She looked at him in puzzlement while he doffed the hat and whipped off the mask. Long fingers ruffled his brown hair into place. He stuffed the disguise into a canvas duffel draped over his shoulder.

Dozens of questions flooded her mind, but only one came out. “What’s a cataphile?”

“Someone who loves the Paris underground. You wanted excitement and adventure.” He swept his arms out to encompass the city. “This is it.”

“What...what are we going to do?” Lydia hated when her voice trembled.

The deep voiced man leaned in. “Baby...we’re going to fuck you.”

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Bring Me To Life by Caitlyn Willows




BRING ME TO LIFE
by Caitlyn Willows
Short Contemporary
December 2017
Cover Art – Trace Edward Zaber

Amy Thornton felt as if she’d died the night her husband was killed. Now, two years later, she’s ready to starting living again, and she knows just the man to help her do so. All she has to do is get him to admit he wants her as much as she wants him. One call to Colbert Escort and Security Services brings owner Josh Colbert running to her door and with him all the emotions she’d forgotten exist. Little does she realize the power in her hands–to crush Josh’s heart or to bring it to life.

Author note: This is a re-issue of a previously released title.


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Reviews:

FIVE LIPS! Bring Me To Life is a beautiful, sexy, exciting, and absolutely exhilarating love story that you don’t want to miss reading! I chose it because of the superb reputation of Caitlyn Willows as well as the intriguing storyline. I expected good, even great, and was rewarded with fantastic, riveting, delightful, and completely immersing! Josh is amazing. His insecurities are sweet, touching, and very real and Amy’s wants and desires, clear and focused. The way that these two come together is hot as well as poignant and moving. Between the tender emotion and entertaining banter, I loved Bring Me To Life and am confident that you will too! ~Kerin, Two Lips Reviews

FIVE HEARTS! What a wonderful story! Bring Me to Life is a novella with a unique plot and is told in such a manner that it is extremely easy to feel as if you are part of the narrative. The romance is explicit from the very beginning, but it is not so “over the top” that it becomes a tale of nothing but sexual encounters…. an incredibly sexy story about love the second time around and the mistakes made when two people are actually “too close” to the situation to realize the pitfalls which can sabotage their pending relationship. The book is captivating and one worthy to be read more than once. Good job, Ms. Willows! I appreciate the chance to read this and believe that others will be thrilled when they, too, read this book! ~Brenda Talley, The Romance Studio

BRING ME TO LIFE is sexually and emotionally charged. Amy and Josh have deep feelings for one another and it’s time they explored said feelings. Throw off the covers and get ready for some heat when you open up BRING ME TO LIFE. ~Sinclair Reid, Romance Reviews Today

FIVE HEARTS! This is a very touching, emotional story of two people who have held their feelings back, but in one night let everything out. It is a story that will have the reader turning the pages to see how their relationship turns out. The reader will certainly feel the heat between these two multi-dimensional characters as Ms. Willows brings them together very intimately. BRING ME TO LIFE is a very evocative story. This reviewer found this story very emotional. It gave her a warm tingly feeling at the end and made her sigh with content. Caitlyn Willows is a new author for this reviewer and this will certainly not be the last book she reads. Ms. Willows masterfully blends a great romance with emotion and sensual, erotic love scenes. This reviewer will be looking for more! ~Valerie, Love Romances And More

FOUR CUPS! Delightfully sexy and touching. Ms. Willows puts heart into this story as a widow decides to come back to life. Fabulous characters; this couple is perfect for each other and the author makes sure the reader feels it. Set at a steady pace with touching moments and wickedly erotic love scenes, this is truly a romantic romp not to be missed. ~Wateena, Coffee Time Romance

The chemistry between the couple was explosive and erotic in nature. Their love scenes are sure to leave you breathless with desire and panting for more. Enjoy! ~Nikita Steele, Joyfully Reviewed
Bring Me to Life by Caitlyn Willows is one tale that any reader will love from its sexy hero to Amy’s courage to continue going on and become stronger than ever. I loved Amy for here is a woman who has known heartache with a loving man to learn that it is not wise to stay secluded and hidden from life for the past two years. Now if there ever was a man to be her other half that is Josh Colbert. Here is a guy who knows what he wants and that’s Amy. These two are not only sexually compatible but man they heat up the pages even without the love scenes, and only Caitlyn Willows can bring two people like them together in a short story book. ~Lena C., Fallen Angel Reviews

FOUR STARS! [A]n interesting story about the aftermath of death and the start of living again. There are intense and arousing sexual scenes between Amy and Josh (read this out loud with someone you love!) I was amazed and aroused. The sexual encounters are important to the plot, but they also fit perfectly into Amy and Josh’s continuing love story. The characters are well written, including a secondary character that provides comic relief. I have again enjoyed a book written by Ms. Willows! ~Marcy Arbitman, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

BRING ME TO LIFE is a heart-warming story about a second chance at love. Josh and Amy are very interesting and independent characters who need each other in order to feel alive. Caitlyn Willows has written a wonderful story that touched my heart and made me root for these two characters to find the love they deserve. This is a story that should not be missed! ~Robin, My Book Cravings
Excerpt:


Amy Thornton’s hands shook as she read the newspaper ad for the fifth time. She couldn’t believe she was considering this act of desperation. She didn’t know what else to call it. Morning light streaming through the windows of her breakfast nook spilled over the ad. Was it calling her attention to it, or trying to make her see how stupid this was?


Perched on the edge of her chair, she jiggled her legs under the table, trying to expend nervous energy, while she weighed her decision for the thousandth time. She was lonely, sad, and all the sex toys in the world didn’t help ease that deep ache inside. She needed to be held, touched, loved on. With Dan’s death two years ago, she’d died too. She needed someone—anyone—to bring her back to life, and she knew just who that someone was going to be.


She pushed the newspaper back and returned to nibbling her raisin toast. Amy would be the first to admit it had taken her a long time to pull herself out of that pit of shock, grief, despair, and depression. It still strangled her heart each time she recalled that awful night. One minute she and Dan were standing outside Mario’s Trattoria waiting for the valet to bring their car around. The next minute Dan was dead, along with six other people—all victims of a driver who’d fallen asleep at the wheel. Yes, it’d been a very long time to crawl from the pit—eighteen months. But she was out now, ready to breathe in life once more.


Unfortunately, it appeared as though their friends and associates weren’t ready for her to do so. It didn’t take long for Amy to see the sad truth—most everyone respected Dan too much to make a move on his widow. Any men who smiled her way were snagged aside fast and told to back off. While Amy had appreciated that consideration during the first year, it had grown very trying later when she was ready to explore the world that awaited her.


But she was the widow of the sainted Dan Thornton—whose legend seemed to grow each day—and now the head of his multi-million-dollar production company. Her reputation could not be besmirched, or that of the company. A liaison with the wrong man could end in disaster for all, or so she’d been advised by her directors. She wondered if they were more concerned she’d marry and her new husband would attempt to take over the company. Not that anyone had said anything, but she could see worry in their eyes.


It was the same look she got that first day she’d walked into the boardroom and announced she’d be stepping into Dan’s shoes. She’d expected the cool reception they’d given her. It was the same frosty demeanor Dan had received when he’d taken over after his father’s death five years ago. It didn’t take long for him to win them over.


Amy followed his example and didn’t back down. The directors had eventually warmed to her when they realized she wasn’t a ball of fluff and knew what the hell she was doing. Now they guarded her like a queen in a fairy castle. Any white knight attempting to rescue her was drowned in the moat before a single digit touched her drawbridge.


Amy sighed and drew the paper toward her again. She didn’t need rescuing, she needed male contact. She needed to get laid. Was it asking so much? Out of the millions of men in Los Angeles, wasn’t there one with balls enough to scale the battlements and fuck her good and proper?

She buried her head in her hands. It was more than that. She wanted to laugh again, feel the warmth of another body next to hers as she slept, to not be single at a table of couples. She wanted Josh Colbert.


She couldn’t say when she’d realized Josh was the main person responsible for chasing away would-be suitors. She’d noticed it by accident two months before at a party. Some actor had cornered her over a platter of mini-quiches—a nice-looking man, with an interesting smile, who seemed capable of intelligent conversation. Amy had been intrigued. She’d turned away to set her champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter. When she looked back, the man was gone. Josh had him by the arm, their heads bent in serious conversation. The actor moved on to other prey, studiously ignoring her.

Curiosity had her seek out another male at that same party. Josh wasted no time cutting him off. Then another and another, until Amy was fairly certain she had the answer she was looking for. Josh wanted her for himself. So she’d flashed him what she presumed was a knowing smile over the fresh champagne flute she’d toyed with. His brown eyes had dilated, his nostrils flared while his long fingers tightened around his glass. Her glance down had revealed his tux was considerably tighter across his crotch.


Yes, definitely interested.


Getting him to make a move, however, was a different issue.


Years of marriage had taught her a lot about male pride. She couldn’t come right out and confront Josh with how he felt, not when she couldn’t be sure how he’d react. Now that her eyes had been opened to the possibilities, she wanted him in her arms, not running the other way screaming denial.

Josh and Dan had been friends for a long time. Dan had given Josh part of the start-up money to help get the Los Angeles franchise of Colbert Escort and Security Services going. It had turned out to be a good investment. Dan had recouped his investment and then some in less than six months. Josh had been more than grateful for the help.


Amy needed to make sure that elephant was banished completely. Josh had to admit he wanted her because that’s what he wanted, not out of any feeling that he owed Dan, or, heaven forbid, that he had to protect Amy from all the men in the world, even himself.


Josh wasn’t inclined to let other men near her. He wasn’t inclined to approach her either. Someone needed a little prodding. She’d been alone long enough. They were going to resolve this. Either Josh would step up to the plate and admit his feelings, or he would step away and let Amy move on. Although doing the latter felt akin to another death all over again. Her heart and body were set on him.


Since that party she hadn’t been able to get Josh out of her mind. His smile, his laugh, the light in his eyes, the way the edges of his brown hair curled ever-so slightly against his collar. She’d seem him dressed to the nines and stripped down to swim trunks. His looks could devastate a woman’s senses no matter what he wore. Amy could almost feel herself tucked against that hard body as they danced. Could easily imagine his weight bearing her into the mattress as she wrapped her legs around him. Could almost taste his lips as they merged with hers.


Damn his stubbornness. The man needed a serious wake-up call.


It seemed like hiring an escort from his company was as good a place to start as any. Perhaps that would open his eyes.


Her palms sweated as she reached for her cell phone. She wiped them on her white shorts. There’d be no tennis with the girls today if this worked according to plan. The privacy of her home was a good place for a trial run. Her friends often teased her, but Amy was really glad now that she and Dan had never had live-in staff. The cleaning, landscaping, and pool maintenance services all came once a week. If she had a large gathering, which hadn’t happened since before Dan’s passing, she hired a caterer. It was one of the smartest moves she’d ever made. The one she was about to make remained to be seen.


She punched in the number before her courage failed her. A woman picked up on the second ring, answering in smooth, cultured tones. “Colbert Escort and Security Services, how can we help you today?”


You can get Josh Colbert’s tight buns over here.


“I’d like a dinner escort for this evening. I’d like to inquire about your special services and rates.”


That ought to get his attention. Colbert wasn’t a front for prostitution. Their agreements were very specific about the services they provided, and especially those they did not provide. But many of the escorts were trained massage therapists. The prospect of Amy nude with a man’s hands roaming her body ought to give him pause.


“Excellent. I’m Nancy and I’ll be more than happy to make the arrangements.” Her confidence boosted Amy’s. This ploy really might work. “Let’s start with the basics.”


That involved Amy’s name, address, phone number, billing information. They progressed to the evening’s date—where she wanted to go, if she wanted limo service. She opted for a quiet dinner in a romantic restaurant and no limo.


“Excellent.” She heard the keyboard tap out the information through the phone. “Now for our special service… Do you want male or female? Before or after the date, or for an extended period of time?”

Amy’s confidence faltered. What if this didn’t work? Suddenly being naked, even under innocuous circumstances with a strange man didn’t feel so enticing. The last thing she wanted was to set up a schedule for massages when she already had one.


“Let’s forget about that one.”


“Gone. If there should be a need, please know your escort is fully trained in all the arts.”


She resisted the urge to ask which ones. Getting Josh’s attention was one thing, making veiled innuendoes about his business was another. She wanted him in her bed, not pissed off.


“Now, what type of man would you like? Being as specific as possible will help us match your wishes.”


“Well, I’d like for him to not look like he’s fifteen.” She and Josh had frequently joked about how young everyone was starting to look to them.


Nancy’s soft laughter filtered back. “Boy, do I know what you mean. Lately, they’re all starting to look like high school students to me. Our boss teases me about that all the time.”


Amy smiled. She’d bet some of their older clientele liked them looking on the young side. Maybe she should really rattle Josh’s cage and pick the youngest escort she could find. No, this had to be believable if she was going to pull it off.


“No baby faces,” Nancy said, and Amy heard the click of the keyboard as the woman typed in the information. “What else?”


“No taller than six feet. No shorter than five-ten. More muscle than lean but not overweight. I also want him fit, not muscle bound. Brown hair and eyes. Strong hands, a good sense of humor, well read, a gentleman, punctual, and…” Laughter swallowed the rest of her list. “I guess I was a little too specific.” She’d pretty much described Josh.


“Not at all,” Nancy quickly assured her. “We want you to have a good time. You won’t be able to do that if you’re focused on some facet you find distressing. Anything else?”


“No, that’s all I can think of.”


“Excellent, give me a few seconds to access our files to see who’s available. Ah, here we are. Brian Ross. In fact, he just walked in and is nodding his acceptance as we speak. Would you like to talk to him?”


“No. That won’t be necessary. I’ll see him tonight.” Unless she missed her guess, Brian Ross wouldn’t get within five miles of her house.


“Good. Six it is. One of our representatives will be by shortly with paperwork for you to sign. We have to ensure you’re completely aware of the services you’ve requested, and of the ones we cannot provide. You’ll also have our nondisclosure agreement. We want nothing to distract from the evening. This gets it all out of the way before then to help keep the night enjoyable.”


“Wonderful.” Perfect, in fact. “Thank you. I appreciate your attention to the small details.”

“Thank you so much for calling Colbert Escort and Security Services.”



Amy set the phone down. Phase One complete. Now for Phase Two—wait for Josh to show up and pray her minimal acting skills held up.

All The Trimmings by Caitlyn Willows




ALL THE TRIMMINGS
by Caitlyn Willows
Contemporary - Erotic Romance - Menage (M/F/M)
December 2014
Cover Artist - Ginny Glass

When Chrissy agreed to housesit for her grandparents and prep the place for Christmas, she never imagined the icing on her cookies would be the twins next door. But they were hard-loving men who didn’t play for keeps, and she never played at all…until now.

Joe and Jess crave their neighbors’ cute granddaughter more than they can stand. She’s definitely a game changer they never imagined, blowing into their lives like the approaching winter storm, stirring up their wildest fantasies and making them want with an intensity hot enough to melt the fake icicles draped around her Grandma’s house.


Christmas with all the trimmings. Those were Grandma’s instructions. And while Chrissy knows she wasn’t referring to Chrissy laid out for Joe and Jess’s pleasure­or they hers—Grandma’s got some explaining of her own to do. Like how she knew about those dimples on the twin’s perfect backsides.


Excerpt:

One would think Chrissy Wallace’s attention would be on the giant Santa being hoisted into the sleigh on top of her grandparents’ house, not on the perfectly proportioned, jean-clad backside of the hunky man doing the work. In her defense, standing on the ladder as he was, the man had a damn fine ass to look at—the perfect peach shape a woman could sink her heels into and ride to the finish line. She’d bet he’d dig those long, thick fingers of his deep into her butt and hold her in place while he pounded her into the mattress.

One hand clasped firmly around the steering wheel, she used the other to fan the heat from her face. This was what happened when she hadn’t had sex in nine months. With her grandparents on vacation and her house-sitting for them, what were the odds she could get lucky? An hour away from home with none of the small-town ogling that went with it? It’d be so much easier than looking for a hookup in one of the clubs on Palm Canyon Drive. If he was helping out her grandparents, he’d already been vetted. So…hell yeah, she was going to go for it. Providing he was available, of course.
Please, let him be available. He can be my Christmas present.

Movement on the roof drew her gaze to the man helping him. Another stunning male specimen. These must be “the nice young men who moved in next door” her grandmother had mentioned. Sunglasses guarded his eyes against the setting sun hovering near the peak of San Jacinto. Those rays bathed his tan skin in gold, highlighting the cut of muscle in his biceps and forearms. Nothing like being able to wear a tank top in December. One of the many reasons she loved living in Southern California.

Her heart somersaulted as she watched him haul Santa to safety on the roof. He handled the decoration like it weighed nothing, and she knew for a fact the thing weighed a ton and was awkward as hell. Much as she loved it, Santa and his sleigh had been the bane of her family’s existence for as long as she could remember. A chore to be avoided at all cost, only to be done under duress and pleading from Grandma to put the decoration in place. Someone always caved. With her grandparents heading out for a Baja cruise, everyone thought they’d be spared this year, especially since Chrissy’s parents were going too. Well…they had been spared. Someone else had been pressed into service.
Probably fell prey to Grandma’s charming smile and bright blue eyes. For a woman nearing seventy, Grandma still knew how to work it. Oh, to have a snippet of that power.

The man on the ladder joined his partner on the roof, taking a stance on the other side of Santa. Seeing their matching smiles made her mouth drop open. Twins. Decisions, decisions. Surely one of them was unattached. Maybe both? Oh, the fantasies that wrought.

She snapped her jaw shut and pulled into the driveway next to Pops’s Prius. Grandma waved at her, love beaming from her eyes. Chrissy was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t seen her standing there until that moment. Her attention had been riveted elsewhere. She sneaked a final mouthwatering glance upward, then cut the engine and got out.

“Chrissy!” Grandma hurried her way, arms open.

Chrissy was conscious of the men above, wondering if they were looking, possibly interested. She was tempted to fluff her hair into some semblance of order, check her breath, flash them a smile that broadcasted her need. She hugged Grandma instead.