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Play To Him by Wendi Zwaduk

BDSM, contemporary, ebook, erotic, m/f, print, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, Wendi Zwaduk Add Comment

Play To Him by Wendi Zwaduk

Play to Him

Bound to the Billionaire (multi-author series)
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-E-Bound

eBook ISBN: 978-1-78184-165-5
Print: 978-1-78184-565-3

The key to her freedom is accepting his bonds. She puts herself in his masterful hands, but can he also convince her to offer her heart?

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Chapter One

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The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk

BDSM, ebook, erotic, m/f, multiple partners, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, Wendi Zwaduk Add Comment

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk

The Phantom of the Opera

Clandestine Classics, Book 5
by Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk

Total-E-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 9781781841075
Print ISBN: 9781781845400

A chance sighting at the Opera, fated love, and three lives in turmoil. But she can only have one man. Will love raise her up or tear their world apart?

Note: This is a re-imagining of the classic Phantom of the Opera novel. The first four chapters are the original.

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Chapter Five

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Still the One by Wendi Zwaduk

BDSM, contemporary, ebook, erotic, m/f, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, Wendi Zwaduk Add Comment

Still the One by Wendi Zwaduk

Still the One

Switch Anthology
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-E-Bound

eBook ISBN: 978-1-78184-132-7
Print ISBN: 978-1-78184-539-4

She’ll be his salvation if he’s willing to switch.

Can Eric embrace her methods for stress relief or will her suggestion tear their fragile relationship apart?

Reader Advisory: This book contains the use of a crop, spanking, a little bondage, a little pegging, some toys and a woman who knows how to use a strap on to pleasure her man.

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Chapter One

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Love Remembers by Wendi Zwaduk

ebook, erotic, historical, m/f, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, Wendi Zwaduk Add Comment

Love Remembers
Lust Bites
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-e-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-909-0

If he wants to keep Aspasia once he finds her, Gregorius will need to prove that his Love Remembers.

When Aspasia at last finds herself in Gregorius’ arms, can she let go of the past in order to have the future she deserves? Only if love remembers…

Chapter One

“I will have you chained to my bed for the rest of your days!”
Revulsion and disgust surged through her veins. Aspasia bit back the nasty response on her tongue. No need to provoke her master.
A shout resonated from another chamber in the sprawling home.
“I will be back for you in a moment.” The master gestured to the guard with the flip of his hand. “You may play with her until I return.”
Aspasia locked gazes with her guard, Atticus. He folded his thick, muscle-corded arms. His expression remained blank. When the master’s footsteps no longer echoed on the stone floor, Atticus moved into action and wrapped his meaty fingers around her arm. “Get into the hallway.”
Frightened by his brusque tone, Aspasia complied. She gathered her torn chiton and covered her nudity. Never one to act against wishes, she prayed to whichever God listened to make the sexual encounter quick and painless. Being with Visius humiliated her to her core, but, as a slave, her complicity was demanded or she risked the whip…again.
“Come on. Before he returns.” Atticus’ gruff voice sent chills down her spine. “He deserves the wrath of Zeus for his actions.”
Her heart hammered within her chest. Atticus rarely spoke. Could he be acting against orders? Ice slid through her veins. Did he want her as his own slave? She bit back a sob. Too many times the people she trusted used her kindness as leverage to gain favour with Visius. Though not conventionally handsome—with hooded eyes, a square jaw, and a body honed for battle—she liked Atticus. Had they met outside Visius’ gate, she might have loved him.
At the end of the corridor, Atticus opened a small wooden door. Moonlight streamed across the tiled floor. “Go.”
For the first time in months, she found her voice. “Where? I have nowhere to go.”
A sparkle twinkled in his dark eyes for a moment. The corner of his mouth kinked into a faint smile. “Head west until you see a creek. Do not stop. Just run. You will be safe.”
Knowing she had no alternative, she kissed his massive hand then surged through the doorway. The cool night air prickled her skin, but she refused to stop. At the entry gates, she pushed any thoughts of her captor and his strict rules from her mind. Gravel crunched under her bare feet, but she ignored the pain. Freedom numbed the pricks and stabs from the sharp rocks.
Would she see Atticus again?
Would she find Gregorius?
Dipping her head to keep from getting caught in the olive tree branches, she pushed the memory of her first love from her mind. He couldn’t possibly still think of her. Gregorius, the second son of Senator Tallus, had more appropriate women to devote his time to. Her heart clenched within her chest. No matter how hard she tried to forget, the taste of Gregorius’ kiss lingered, even seven years on.
Her legs ached. Her spirits sank. Where was the creek? Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, aiding her in the escape. Would Visius come looking for her? He was probably sitting on his horse trying to decide which way she had run…if he wasn’t watching with laughter on his lips…
No. She refused to be his pleasure slave any longer.
With a burst of speed, she continued on. The sound of running water met her ears—a melodic sound, like plucking the strings of a lyre. The creek. Tears burned behind her eyelids. The creek.
Her joy turned to fleeting frustration as she tripped on something. A bare tree root? A trap?
Aspasia toppled to the ground and the last thing she saw was the dark figure in the distance. Please, Gods, let it not be Visius.
* * * *
“Do you see the form by the creek?” Gregorius strode across the olive tree grove with his brother in tow. Someone was trespassing on the family property. Why hadn’t the guards notified him or his brother? Damn the Symposium. A waste of good time, spent listening to older men spin yarns of their youth while playing kottabos and flinging wine at an innocent krater—a vase.
The closer he came to the collapsed figure, the harder his heart began to beat. Could it be? A petite hand clenched a chunk of moss. His gaze lingered on the delicate arm leading to the hand. Dirt and scratches marred the pale skin of the fallen woman.
“Are you going to take her home or kill her for trespassing?” Darius folded his arms. “Do you know her?”
Kneeling next to her, Gregorius’ breath clogged in his throat. He knew the birthmark on the woman’s bare shoulder—a wobbly circle just above her right shoulder blade. Aspasia. Could it be true? He had found her? “I will take her home.” Where she belongs.
His brother pointed to the gold band encircling Aspasia’s left biceps. “She is a simple slave. Why waste energy on a piece of property, lovely as she may be?”
“She is not property.” Gregorius bit out his words. No one deserved to be beaten or abused as her body attested.
“Her arm. She is a slave to someone.”
Gregorius scooped her into his arms, frightened by how little she now weighed. “She is a slave no longer.” He strode across the grove to the main house, with his brother hot on his heels.
“Father raised us to be citizens, not to save every poor soul who wanders onto our land.” Darius grabbed Gregorius’ forearm. “Promise me you will take her back to wherever she came in the light of the morning.”
“No.”
As Gregorius entered the courtyard, Marellus—his housekeeper and mother-figure—clapped her hands. “I thought you were not coming home tonight until late.” The smile curling her lips faded. “What have you there?” She caressed Aspasia’s cheek. “She is cold. Shall I prepare a cot for her upstairs in the women’s quarters?”
“I want a bath brought to my chamber.” Gregorius nodded to the doorway. “She is ill and I plan to take care of her.”
“Gregorius!” Darius’ voice grated on his nerves. He did not know of the connection. He would never understand Gregorius’ need to have the woman he loved back in his life.
Gregorius whipped around. His tunic shuffled around his thighs. “Brother, we will talk soon. I have much to explain—when she wakes. Until then, leave us.” Taking a moment to gather his wits, Gregorius dropped his forehead to the top of Aspasia’s dirty head. “Marellus, please help me cleanse her.”
“Yes, Gregorius.”
Gregorius sent prayers of thanks to the Goddesses as he placed Aspasia’s limp body on his bed. Aphrodite must have decided to show him favour by bringing his love back to him. He took a damp cloth from Marellus and stroked the length of Aspasia’s thigh. He gasped as he revealed her silky skin from under the layers of filth. Thick pink scars from a whip marred her limbs in a spider web design.
Marellus patted his hand. “She is a slave. Some masters treat their slaves with cruelty. If she had any fire in her soul, it is gone.” She waved to Aspasia’s bare back. “Look at the lines. She defied him or he hated her. Or both.”
“Hate and revenge.” A growl bubbled low in Gregorius’ throat. “He went too far in his punishments.”
When the bed bath ended, Gregorius lifted Aspasia’s limp form onto his lap. “Please place a fresh blanket on the bed. I’ll keep watch on her through the night.” She shivered, causing him to draw her closer.
Marellus’ brow kinked. “Are you sure there is nothing more?”
He tipped his head. More? Yes, much more, but nothing he wanted to discuss with the woman who filled the motherly void in his life. “She is my guest and she is hurting.”
“And you have feelings for her.”
Opening his mouth to speak, he choked on the words. “I am not sure.” He knew he cared, but lifelong love? What if Aspasia refused him? No other woman had made an impact on his life. She haunted his dreams.
Yes…she meant everything to him.
“I can see it in your eyes.” She smiled and stood. “The rough edges of your scarred soul fall away when you gaze at her.”
“If I did not love you, I would be inclined to say you are trying to put us together.” He shook his head to come up with a lie. “I do as the Gods command.”
“Then love her as the Gods command. She will make a fine pallake, a fine wife.”
Although Gregorius wanted to dismiss Marellus’ opinion, he knew better. Love and devotion flowed in his soul. Yes, he could love Aspasia, but would she be able to love him in return? And could she move beyond the demons in her past?
He begged the Gods to make it so.

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Over My Head by Wendi Zwaduk

action/adventure, contemporary, ebook, erotic, holiday, m/f, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, suspense/mystery, Valentine's Day, Wendi Zwaduk 1 Comment

Over My Head
Heart Attack Collection
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-e-Bound

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-874-1

I’m a bouncer at the Silver Steel. But I have a…problem. I’m there to stop the influx of drugs into the community. Yeah, I’m a cop. As long as I keep my heart out of it, I’ll be fine. I hope.

Chapter One

Too God damned cold.
Sergeant Randy McCall blew warm air into his hands and waited for the heater to bring the temperature in the car to a liveable level. Damned force could’ve given him a car that had a working heater. He bounced his feet in a vain attempt to jumpstart his circulation. A break—he needed a fucking break and his Corvette. The ‘vette had a sweet heater, but like the rest of his life, it sat in storage. He’d been undercover for more than six months and still hadn’t made any headway.
“Slade, my man, you are so fucked,” he murmured to himself in the idling car. He glanced around the parking lot. The rest of the girls had gone home. Good. He hated to see them straggling. He’d been in the area long enough to know the Silver Steel Gentlemen’s Club was in the worst part of town. The worst. If he hadn’t been on the drug case, he’d more than likely be investigating the latest murder in the red light district—back doing the normal cop stuff.
Was there a normal anymore?
Randy shifted and twiddled with the radio knobs. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but his best friend, Drew Alwyn, had wandered through the club. Malsam probably had him preparing to go under, too. Randy shook his head. They should just close down the damned club.
He tipped his head back and ran his hand over his face as the warmth from the heater finally cut through the chill in the car. A vision of his dream girl formed in his mind. The honey blonde hair curling past her shoulders. Her creamy skin shimmering with glitter or a fine sheen of sweat. And then there were those eyes. The colour of good brandy as she stared up at him, taking him deep into her mouth.
A knock on his window brought him out of his fantasy. Shit. Randy cleared his throat and reminded himself he wasn’t Randy, he was Slade McMann—bouncer and hard ass. He then chastised himself for slipping into a daydream. Too fucking close to getting himself into trouble.
I am Slade.
The knocking grew louder. “You okay?”
Slade turned. The eyes he’d been fantasising about stared back at him from the other side of the fogged glass. Part of him wanted to be irritated. The rest of him rejoiced silently. Astra Lee. He rolled the window down an inch, cursing that he’d fogged the glass.
“Are you okay? I thought you were dead.” Astra shivered. “Slade? I need you.”
Now those were words he hadn’t expected to hear. Sure, she winked at him all the time and gave him occasional free lap dances, but wasn’t that the job of the dancers—tantalise without getting too close?
“Slade?”
He shook the thoughts from his head. “Get in. We can talk in the warmth.” He rolled his window back up, careful not to lose too much precious heat.
Astra slid into the passenger seat and rubbed her arms. “Colder than the Arctic, isn’t it?”
Slade glanced at her bare hands. “Where are your gloves, little girl?” He took both her hands in his. “You’re going to freeze.”
“My gloves grew legs and walked out while I was onstage.” She shivered next to him. “Sorry. The car died and I need a ride.”
“I didn’t see your car in the lot.” He squeezed her hands, working the circulation back into them. “Mine’s the only one here.”
“I know.” She averted her whisky gaze. “I walked here.”
“What?” Slade forced himself to remain calm. “You should’ve said something.” Astra danced as ‘Sexyback’ and had been in a relationship with the club owner, Salazar ‘Tiny’ Balthazar. He shouldn’t care who she fucked, but the thought of her lying down with the tattooed man churned his stomach.
Why it mattered to him, Slade didn’t know. Wasn’t like she’d sleep with him. He wasn’t even who he claimed to be.
“Because it’s at my brother-in-law’s garage. Wouldn’t start and my brother-in-law said it was the starter… I don’t know.”
“I can look at it tomorrow, if you want.” Slade clamped his lips together. If he talked to her much longer, he’d say something foolish.
“You can’t do any worse.” She laughed, a low, throaty laugh that sent sizzles through his veins. “How about you just take me home? I’m pooped and those damned heels hurt after an hour or two.”
“You got it.”
He wasn’t thrilled he’d have to let her go when then got there, but hell—if he said he thought about her late at night surely Astra would thank him…and take off. He put the car into gear. He missed her touch even though he barely knew her. He pulled out of the lot and into the street, careful not to skid on the freshly fallen snow.
Astra folded her hands over her purse and settled herself more comfortably into Slade’s car seat. Just a ride. All she needed was a simple ride home. The moment she’d climbed into his car, she felt much warmer and she knew sure as shit it wasn’t from the measly car heater. The streetlights and blackened buildings flew by in a rush. The twenty minute drive across town seemed to take no time at all. Then again, with company like Slade, she’d rather the ride last forever.
Knocking on his window and being seen with him could get her into trouble. Slade McMann wasn’t just a man or good-looking muscle. He loomed large at the club. The other bouncers weren’t scared of him, but if he was in charge of removing a drunk or troublemaker, the other bouncers gave him a wide berth.
She wanted a man like him, one who would take care of her. The kind of man who knew what was going instead of her having to look over her shoulder or worry if someone had an unseen eye on her.
Unless Slade proved to be another bad card in the deck.
She guessed not. Slade McMann didn’t strike her as being like the other thugs at the club. He didn’t hang out with Tiny and never seemed to buy the merchandise. He barely seemed to pay attention to the crap going on at the club—like it was all beneath him.
She’d put her faith in others only to have them screw her over. Unlike the men in her past, though, something deep in her belly screamed that she could trust Slade. Odd, too, since her gut instincts never panned out. The men she tended to trust only ever proved to be untrustworthy. Abe had used his fists, Tiny used drugs. Dennison…well, that was a wound she’d gladly give away.
“Astra?”
She gulped. He’d used her given name. Most of the bouncers didn’t even know the girls had names other than their stage names or descriptions like ‘the one with huge knockers’. She turned towards him. Slade wasn’t traditionally handsome. His face was a little too long and his black hair a tad too unruly. His grey eyes flashed whenever he looked at her and the simple act always sent shivers up her spine. It was as though her physical attributes weren’t important because he saw the woman inside. But to have him really see her as a human, not a set of breasts, seemed to be too much to ask.
“We’re here.” Slade pulled into what was evidently his assigned parking spot at the Sanborn Building. “It’s three in the morning and damned icy. Give me a moment and I’ll come around to get you.”
“I’m not going to break,” she chuffed, although she appreciated his gesture. Astra waited a heartbeat for him to round the hood of the car.
Slade opened the door and offered his gloves. “Put these on.”
She considered arguing with him and capitulated. Gloves were so much better than frozen fingers. She shivered again. “Thanks.”
He looped one arm around her back and placed his hand on her elbow.
“Are you for real?” She looked away, embarrassed by her own question.
“I hope so,” he murmured in her ear. “I had a mother who insisted I have manners as well as learn how to put a man in his place.”
She paused and stared at him.
“What, little girl?”
“Your girlfriend is a lucky woman.” Her heart beat loud in her ears. Had she just blurted out something about his girlfriend? Shit.
Slade urged her forward again and laughed. “I am as single as single can be.” Arm tight around her, he whispered, “Are you applying?”
Astra bit her tongue, waiting until they stood in the lobby to respond. “You don’t want to date me. I mean, come on…a stripper girlfriend? That’s out of some sappy romance novel or something.” She turned away from Slade to hide her emotions. Okay, so she had a soft spot for romance novels and happy endings. “Walk me to my door?”
“I am what I am.” He shrugged and followed her up the steps. “I’m in two-twelve if you get lonely, by the way.”
“Then we’re just about neighbours. I’m in two-twenty-six.” She came to a stop in front of her door. As much as she wanted to stretch out in bed, the enticing idea of stretching out next to him in bed sounded so much more fun…more sinful. She shook the thought from her head. He hadn’t asked her over for sex, just issued a simple invitation for whenever she was bored.
“I guess this is goodnight.” Slade smoothed a lock of hair off her cheek. Something akin to a dreamy look filled his eyes for a moment. He inched closer to her. Flecks of gold and green shimmered in his irises.
Was he going to kiss her? Her body screamed hello, yes! But her heart remained guarded. Too much faith in the wrong person could be deadly. Still, she wanted that kiss…his kiss. The heat in the hallway kicked up to somewhere in the oh baby range and sent prickles along her skin. Yes, she needed his kiss.
Slade smiled then strolled down the hallway, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Damn. She had thought for sure he was going to kiss her. Astra fitted her key into her lock and nudged the door open.
A rush of cold air swirled around her. Odd. The apartment shouldn’t be cold. It should be hotter than the hallway. Astra rubbed her arms. Snow lay glistening on the windowsills and window seat. She tipped her head. Who had opened the window? She shivered and glanced at her things. The couch remained in its place, but the cushions were askew, some on the floor. Her plants—a collection of spider plants and ferns—weren’t in their pots. Dirt splattered around where they had once sat.
Occasionally sloppy, she never left the apartment a total shambles. Who else had a key? Her stomach clenched and she couldn’t breathe. Tiny.
She needed to get out. Needed to run. She turned on her heel and ran smack into a wall of solid flesh. The person grabbed her by the arms—a man based on his size and the tangy scent of his thick cologne and body odour. She couldn’t see his face because of the stocking cap over his eyes.
“Remember the rules,” the man growled. “Quiet girls are safe girls.”
She nodded, afraid to do anything else. The man raised a gun and aimed the weapon at her. The blood drained from her face and pounded through her veins. Now she needed to run and hide, but hell…her feet wouldn’t move. A strangled cry ripped from her throat and the thunder of gunfire ricocheted through the apartment.
Astra dropped to her knees.
“Don’t fuck with Tiny or I’ll do more than destroy your shit.” The man slapped the butt of the gun against her cheek.
She closed her eyes as the room faded to black.
All I wanted to do was be home…

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Someone Like You by Wendi Zwaduk

BDSM, contemporary, ebook, erotic, m/f, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, Wendi Zwaduk 1 Comment

Someone Like You
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-e-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-867-3

She’s the one he wants, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Is she woman enough to tame Arran’s ways? Or will their love affair burn out before it gets started?

Chapter One

“The wet look. Ancient Greek sculpture features drapery and clothing that appears so body-hugging, scholars label it the wet look.” Professor Reinhold tapped his fingers on the podium top. “I hope you’re taking notes.”
Mindy Dawson rolled her eyes and continued writing in her notebook. ‘Wet look’ her behind. The professor likes saying wet in front of two hundred horny college students is more like it, she wrote in the margin of her notes. She glanced to her right. Speaking of horny and college students…
He was there. Golden brown hair, cropped tight to his head. A ring glittered from the upper swell of his ear. He looked down at his notebook, no doubt scrawling every last word Professor Reinhold spouted. She licked her dry lips and shifted. Her mystery man always sat five rows up from the lecturer, at least fifteen seats from her position. Had he ever noticed her?
She should be jotting notes for the upcoming test as well, not drinking in every detail of Mystery Man’s profile. His lips parted and her breath hitched. The guy had kissable lips. At least from the side they looked kissable.
“He’s probably out of my league,” she muttered and forced her attention to her notebook. “With a girlfriend and a happy little life.”
A statue of some headless Greek graced the screen above the chalkboard. Muscled and half-naked. What did her mystery man look like under his clothes? What was his name? Being in a lecture hall with a hundred other students didn’t exactly lend itself to learning everyone’s names.
“Our next exam is Friday on chapters sixteen through twenty-four. Remember your blue books.” Professor Reinhold clicked the lights on, temporarily blinding Mindy.
She groaned. Another test.
Not that an exam really bothered her. She loved the challenge of getting the answers right and scoring her best. Besides, it wasn’t like she—Miss Bookworm Extraordinaire—had a thriving social life. Paying the bills to get through college was hard enough work without trying to worry about a man and a love life. And Darrin had helped ruin her in the love department.
Too bad the books weren’t as exciting and warm as a virile college guy with brains and good looks.
She sneaked a peek at Mystery Man. Instead of seeing the side of his head and the breadth of his shoulders, all she found was an empty seat.
Damn.
Mindy snorted. Typical. Pining for a man she didn’t know in a class where she didn’t stand out. At least she had every Monday, Wednesday and Friday with him until June.
* * * *
“She stared at you again.”
Arran groaned. Trust his friend, Sav, to worry about the girl from Art History. “She’s a sweet girl. So what if she wants to look?”
Savion Welles raised one brow. “She’s not your type.” He elbowed Arran and directed him into the school’s sub shop. “She’s a girl.”
“Here we go again.” Arran dropped his backpack onto the nearest table. “What’s wrong with girls?”
“You don’t date girls,” Sav snapped.
Correct. Arran Mayes didn’t date girls. He dated guys. Big deal. He rummaged through the pack for his wallet. “There’s no law saying girls can’t look in my direction, stare or drool. I’m rather likeable by those who know me.”
“I’m your best friend other than Nathan. I know you.”
“So lay off.” Arran stuffed the five-dollar bill into his pocket. “I’m getting a pastrami on rye. Want anything?”
Sav flicked his hand.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Arran rolled his eyes again and strode through the gaggle of tables towards the sub shop counter. As he crossed the room, he saw her. The girl. She sat religiously through each boring art lecture, taking notes and hazarding glances in his general area. Warmth flooded his cheeks. Few women actually looked his way. Most dismissed him long before they got to know him.
According to their banter, Arran had a great style and a nice voice, but their conversations always worked around to whether Nate—his best friend—was seeing anyone. Some would be put off with the constant barrage of questions concerning Nate. As long as it wasn’t men asking, Arran didn’t care. He happily directed the girls into Nate’s view and sat back to watch the fireworks.
But with this girl…he wanted to watch what could happen and not with Nate. Arran Mayes wanted the action, excitement…he wanted a girl. At least to get to know her name and find out what the fuss over women was about. Maybe get her phone number. See what made her smile…
Whoa. He needed a good fuck, that’s what the attraction was. A bodily response to someone good-looking. He shoved the burgeoning desire aside in his mind. Focus on lunch.
He took his place at the back of the line. What if the attraction wasn’t a lack of sex? He appraised her from afar. Nice hips. Enough to grasp during a roll in the sheets. Holy fuck. Where’d those thoughts come from? Blood flowed to his cock and he shifted his weight to relieve the pressure. Shock…yes, she had to be a shock to his system. A glitch.
Thick blonde hair fell to the middle of her back and the fleeting scent of vanilla wafted to him. His mouth watered. Was she into hair pulling?
He shook his head. God, biology was a bitch. Here he was thinking about sex, what to do to make her scream during sex, or whether to just walk away from her altogether. Somewhere between Art History and lunch, something had come unglued. She liked sub sandwiches and that little nugget of info stoked his interest.
He shook his head again. Enough fantasising about things he didn’t want.
A guy behind her struck up a conversation. “What’cha having today, Min?”
Min. Arran tipped his head. Nice name. He strained to hear her answer. Please let her be one of those girls who ate, not picked at food.
“Pastrami. Same old, same old.”
Arran chuckled. Simple. He liked simple and wonderful…men. He forked his fingers into his hair. The feelings weren’t dissipating. Damn it. He liked guys, so why her and why now? He tore his attention from Min and glanced in Sav’s direction. He lusted after men—dark men, brooding men. Guys like Nate and Sav. Not women. He loved the feel of a man’s pecs and pebbled nipples crushed against his chest, not the pillow of women’s breasts. Fuck, he’d never even dated a girl.
The scent of vanilla swirled around him. Arran turned as Min strolled past, sandwich in hand. His mouth watered. For the pastrami or her? His brain whirled with confusion and glee. He had to talk to her and get to know the vixen of Art History. As strange as it felt to be intrigued by her, it also seemed…oddly okay. He forfeited his place in line and followed her to her table.
“Hello. Min, is it? I’m Arran. I wondered if I might sit with you?”
Her eyes widened as she stared at him. Her lips parted and crimson infused her cheeks. She waved her hand at the empty seat.
Arran sank down beside her. Instead of the apprehension he always felt when dealing with women—especially attractive women—a calm settled around him. Strange.
“What can I do for you?” She offered her hand. “My name’s Mindy, by the way. Phillip thinks I like being called Min. He’s…Phillip.”
Mindy. The name suited her. “Mindy. We’re in the same Art History lecture class, aren’t we?”
“I’m the one who bores holes into the side of your head. Sorry. I shouldn’t stare.”
She grinned and his heart leapt. What would it taste like to nibble on her bottom lip?
Arran matched her smile. “I don’t mind. And since we’re sharing pleasantries, I’m Arran. Arran Mayes.”
Crap. What was he supposed to do now? Just sitting next to her wasn’t going to be enough. Hell, if he dawdled around too long, she’d tell him to get lost.
“Do you have the notes from last Friday’s lecture on the Lascaux cave art? I missed some of what Reinhold said.” There. That was a good save. Sounded intelligent and made him look like he cared about the class. He did, but sharing that info wasn’t happening right away.
Mindy rummaged through her shoulder bag and produced a notebook. “Want to photocopy them or just fill in your blanks?”
“I’ll copy by hand, if you don’t mind. I’ll get my bag and my lunch and join you. Okay?” He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans legs as he waited for her answer. “I’m having a great time talking to you.”
“Sure.”
“Be right back.” Arran sprang from his seat and practically skipped across the room. She wanted to spend time with him. Granted, it could be her simply being nice to him, but he didn’t care.
Sav glared as Arran gathered his things. “Not your type.”
“I’m getting Art History notes.” Arran slung his backpack on his shoulder and headed back towards her table. “This could be the start of something really great.”

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Savin’ Me by Wendi Zwaduk

BDSM, contemporary, ebook, erotic, m/f/m, menage, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, Wendi Zwaduk 1 Comment

Savin’ Me
Treble Multi-Author Anthology
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-e-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-700-3

Three is their magic number. Now they’ve got to decide if the magic is worth saving.

Razrs Edge packed stadiums, fuelled by the inner turmoil and passion of the three founding members. The lights aren’t as bright and the crowds cheer a little less now that the threesome has parted ways.

It’s time to bring the magic back.


Chapter One

“You scared?”
Juniper sat at his feet, silent. Jacoby gazed down at her as he petted her honey-coloured hair, comforted by the silky texture and the scent of her flowery shampoo. Clad in nothing more than the silver, rope necklace collar and black stilettos, her head bowed and her hands folded over her lap, Juniper made the perfect picture of a submissive. Her lack of response served to fulfil his unspoken demand. “You may answer, pet.”
“Petrified.”
The certainty and honesty in her reply resonated to his core. He’d married her. He loved her and yet, he’d always felt there was something—someone—missing. He would never leave her, had never wanted to. “Look at me, love.”
Slowly she met his gaze. In her blue eyes, a million questions brewed. The collar glittered in the soft lamplight. He owned her heart. When they entered the bedroom, she willingly became his. Juniper should’ve been enough for him. Jacoby patted his lap. “Sit. I want to look at you while we talk.”
Rising to her full height of five feet four inches, she stood before him. He ran the backs of his fingers over her taut nipples. When God created woman, he created perfection in the form of Juniper. She smoothed her hands over her hips, drawing his attention to the gentle swell. With curves in all the right places and an imagination nothing could snuff out, she suited him perfectly. She parted her lips and thrust her breasts towards him. The tight little buds beckoned to him, erect from desire, steel barbells glistening in the soft light. Nipple play factored into their lovemaking each time and he loved to hear her gasp and moan when he captured the dusky tips in his mouth or tugged them with the chain.
“You want to play, pet?”
She stared at him, unmoving.
“Although you are right to remain silent, I wanted an answer. Tell me, should I punish you?” The faint smile on her lips also lit up her azure eyes. He nodded. “A spanking. Four strokes should work—after we talk. Sit.” He loved their play, loved her more than life, but it wasn’t the same.
Juniper straddled his hips, cradling his denim-clad cock between her thighs. Jacoby wound his hand behind her neck, drawing her down for a kiss. The taste of her, a combination of her mint toothpaste and the salty musk of his cum on her tongue, intoxicated him. Even after three years together, she brought out his need to love and possess her. Only one other had ever brought him to the brink with little more than a kiss.
When she backed away, the spark of desire in Juniper’s eyes dimmed. “Jacoby.”
He should punish her for speaking out of turn and using his name. Should want to smother her with kisses until she begged for release. He couldn’t do either. The sadness in her voice combined with his inner turmoil zapped his heart.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”
Jacoby bit down hard on his tongue. He could lie. Parkur Thompson walked away from him, from the both of them, more than a year prior. He’d wanted the band and the fame, not the sanctity of the music. He’d wanted just a wife, not a male lover and a wife. “I can’t be with the both of you. It’s not right.” Jacoby closed his eyes. The hurt, fresh even after the passage of time, gnawed at his soul.
Juniper cupped his cheek, bringing him out of his silent pity party, smoothing her thumb along his jaw. “What did the letter say?”
The letter. The damned impersonal correspondence from the record label. “You and I are to be in the Atrius Building downtown at seven p.m.”
She tipped his chin to meet his gaze. “Think he really wants us?”
“Fuck if I know.” Parkur’s mood swings were legendary. One moment he’d wanted the threesome—needed them to be solid for the band, the music, for him. The next minute he needed a traditional wife and children.
Juniper snuggled against Jacoby, resting her head on his shoulder. “We made a good band. The people liked Razrs Edge when we were all together. Despite the sales for our album together, he’s probably realised the new line-up isn’t suited to our music.”
“But why now? Because the fans hate Rhiannon and her screaming horse-shit songs?” To hide the frustration coursing through his veins, Jacoby wrapped her tight in his embrace.
“We’re not here for him to use us to make money. Been there, done that, over it. I like my life, and I love you. Fuck him.”
Juniper sat silent for a pregnant moment. She’d been a founding member of Razrs Edge right along with Parkur. Hell, she’d been involved with Parkur until Jacoby came along. Instead of reacting with jealousy, she’d welcomed him into the musical relationship. As for the physical relationship, it had taken time and tenderness to get the three of them into a groove.
“I want to say it’s because he truly needs us. Bone-deep, can’t-live-without-us desire.” Her hand stilled over his and her voice wavered. “But this is Parkur. He’s the only one who knows what goes on in his mind.”
Jacoby raked his fingers through his hair. “It won’t be the same.”
“Never is.”
As if he’d flipped the switch deep within her, Juniper stiffened. Jacoby sensed her fear. The sheer veracity of the love between the three of them wasn’t something that could last. Damned near came apart when they’d first began the tryst. Jacoby kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek against her forehead. “Ju, I feel the worry in your bones.” His heart splintered when her tears wetted his chest. “I love you, flower girl. His being around won’t change things for you and me.”
“You still love him,” she said in a husky voice he barely recognised. “He is your soul mate. I’m a placeholder. I’ve accepted it.”
Jacoby shifted in the recliner and cupped her chin, forcing her gaze to his. “We were meant to be three. The music, the laughter, the fucking…it all equalled our magic number.” Time to show her she meant the world to him. “Stand, pet.”
Juniper complied and scurried off his lap. With her hands at her sides, she bowed her head. Jacoby unfolded himself from the chair and crossed the few steps to her position. “I won’t leave you, Ju. You’re mine. Always.” As he kissed her, invading her mouth with his tongue, he nudged her against the wall. He pinched her nipple, eliciting a squeak from deep in her throat. The excited sound sent pinpricks of excitement coursing through his veins. Just one good fucking against the wall to show her he loved and cared for her.
Groaning, Juniper rocked her hips against his thigh. Cream from her pussy slicked his denim-covered crotch. Damn, she wanted him. Jacoby ground into her then reached down between them, rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb. “Fuck, pet.” Jacoby panted and stroked his cock against her lower belly. “Need you now.”
“Take me.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, granting him access as he lifted her from the floor. “Please fuck me, Sir.”
Releasing her long enough to unzip and withdraw his erection, Jacoby gathered her back into his embrace and slid into her body. The walls of her pussy clenched around him, creating delicious friction. Damn, he’d never last. He built the rhythm in time with her writhing and drove into her slick channel. A melody played in his brain, the same one he heard whenever he made love to her. All he needed to make it perfect was Parkur’s steady drumbeat, his soul with them…
Maybe one day.
“Jac!” Juniper clung to him, her body a mass of shudders.
Jacoby buried his face against her neck and came with one final surge, coating her womb with his seed. “Damn.”
Lowering one leg to the floor, Juniper sagged in his arms. “I love you, Jac.”
“Love you, flower girl.”
* * * *
Bass music pumped into the recording studio, drowning out the casual conversation. Parkur clenched and unclenched his fists. Today he’d see them again. Today he’d get answers. Today he’d leave them faster than they’d fucked him over.
Juniper and Jacoby Binder. The people he cared for the most and the ones he hated with a vengeance. Every time he heard the Shards album, his heart ripped apart all over again. They’d written and created the music—their special triad. Fans loved the darker, romantic rock music. The soundtrack to their relationship. Each song found its way on to the playlist during the tour, reminding him of what had been and wouldn’t be again. Hearing those same words on just his own lips with Rhiannon and the replacement backing band wasn’t the same. It sucked ass. The fans knew it, he knew it. Too bad management hadn’t received the memo.
Zero, his current backing singer and lead guitarist, plopped down next to Parkur. “They’ll be here.”
“Not worried about it.” Liar. Parkur folded his arms to hide the nervous gesture. “Few people pass up the chance to make music with a top band. They’re no different.”
“Cold.” Zero shook his head and crackled the plastic cup in his thick fingers. “You do realise that you’ve become a bastard since they left.”
“Me? I’m the picture of happiness and upward mobility.” Sort of. Parkur ground his teeth together. Happy was the last word he’d use to describe himself.
“Upward mobility?” Zero snorted. “That’s a crock of shit.”
“If I lie enough, it’ll be true.” God only knew, Parkur forgetting the two people who made his battered heart whole wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “I hear they got married and settled down.” Without me.
“And it’s burning your ass because you want to be with them.”
“Fuck off.” Zero’s words hit way too close to home. He had no idea what had gone on. Hell, Parkur wasn’t even sure when the train had come off the rails. Not totally.
Zero leant forwards and rested his elbows on his knees. “Look, I know things went to shit. I saw more of it firsthand than I wanted to. I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t buy it now.” He sighed. “You know me, I’m not one to peddle advice, but this time I am. Rhiannon is a bitch. She hates the music you write, and with Hank’s help has run RE into the ground. Instead of us recording more of her sad excuses for songs, why don’t we work on the stuff you wrote on the road?”
“Hank said it sucked.” Parkur groaned. Hank Clark hated almost everything Razrs Edge released—unless the song went multi-platinum, then the tune was his favourite. “It’s too emotional and not edgy enough for RE.”
“Where’d the emotion for the music come from? His ass? No, it came from your broken heart.”
“Shout it to everyone.”
“I will. They pulverised your heart and, because of it, you wrote some damned haunting music. My guess? Juniper and Jacoby will clamour to record it and beg to have you release it.”
Parkur stared at Zero. “How are you so sure?”
“I’m not. I want you to be happy and they made you happy. You all have something special when you’re together. It’s how it should be—her singing, you drumming, him tearing up the bass line and the rest of us in the background. I’m dying to get back to business as usual.”
The door slammed behind them, causing Parkur to jerk in his seat. “Are we done with the touchy-feely moment, girls?”
Parkur closed his eyes. One person grated on his nerves to the point of breaking them—Hank. The man could insult and compliment in the same sentence without blinking. Opening his eyes, Parkur folded his hands in front of his mouth to bite back a nasty response.
Zero stood and smashed the plastic cup in one hand. “It was a great day till the worm showed. Don’t you have a contract to screw us with?”
“You wanted a businessman, you have me.” Hank slapped Parkur with the back of his hand. “Why aren’t you warming up? We record in an hour.”
“I’ll be ready when it’s time.” Parkur stood and nodded to the piano. “Don’t disturb me unless Ju and Jac show up. I need the right people to round out the songs.”
“The label wants the rough cuts by the end of tomorrow. You can’t piss around.” Hank snarled and pounded his fist into the back of the office chair. “You already stepped out of their collective shadow. You don’t need those two. When will that fact get through the cement in your head?”
Ignoring the ramblings of his manager, Parkur crossed the threshold into the actual studio. Collective shadow his ass. He’d started Razrs Edge. Him and Juniper.
And Jacoby had made the band complete. He’d made the music complete.
Parkur toyed with the crumpled sheet music on the stand then plopped down before the piano. He’d written Jacoby’s bass lines to mimic the deepest desires in his heart. With Juniper singing, the words would take on multiple levels of meaning. He found the notes and began a simple melody. He’d fucked up. He wasn’t sure how or when he’d lost control, but he’d driven them away. Juniper had cared about Parkur and his music enough to encourage him to record it. Jacoby had understood the inner pain and could translate it into a form the masses understood.
And now? What did Parkur have to show for his pain?
A fat lot of loneliness in a crowded room.
Parkur palmed the braided silver at his throat. The collar. The fans believed it to be his symbol of resistance and rebellion. If they only knew it was his true link to Jacoby, his Sir. He hadn’t given up on the man who made his heart thunder, nor the woman who’d made him smile when the rest of the world turned away. He should want revenge, want to make them hurt. He pressed his hands together in front of his lips. Rhiannon had been a mistake from the word go. She wanted Hank and the notoriety of fronting a band.
Ju and Jac soothed his wounded soul.
“Save me,” he whispered.

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What Might Have Been by Wendi Zwaduk

BDSM, contemporary, erotic, m/f, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, Wendi Zwaduk 1 Comment

What Might Have Been
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-E-Bound

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-559-7

Macy Shibley refuses to let anyone tie her down. She’ll control the tying, unless the one man who managed to chip away the walls around her heart comes back.

Tanner Connolly has never forgotten Macy. He’d like to know what might have been, but he’ll have to let her go to prove he wants more than one night…

Chapter One

“I didn’t disappear and I never faded away.” Macy leaned against the door of her truck and crossed her ankles as she sang along with the country song playing in her head. Funny how the class reunion seemed more like a time of rebirth rather than reminiscing. From her vantage point on the crumbling sidewalk, she stared up at the looming high school building. Back when she’d attended school there, Mason Senior High hadn’t seemed so scary. Now, the tan and red brick structure reminded her of a prison. In seven days, the prison would be little more than a pile of rubble. Then again, she wouldn’t be around to watch it fall. She’d be in New York signing her contract for her newest book, Cadence, and starting out on her tour for her Slayer series.
She sucked in a long breath to steady her ragged nerves. Maybe no one would recognise her. Blending in had always been her strong point, but this time she wasn’t interested in being a wallflower. One last look at the old building and the perfect chance to prove she’d made something of herself.
One by one, she climbed the front steps and relived the days of her youth. Memories of band pictures, chilly football games, essay questions and walking through cramped hallways bombarded her mind. All those years ago, things had seemed so complicated, like the rest of the world would be easy as long as she wasn’t in school. She snorted.
Not hardly.
Once she’d walked out of the door, diploma in hand, life had crashed down on her—paying for college, living in an apartment the size of a closet, and getting her first job, all while balancing her virtually non-existent social life. Post-high school had its ups and downs, but she’d never trade the experiences. Well, save for her time with Will. She’d gladly trade those years. She clutched her truck keys. At least they weren’t her standard rental car keys.
“I’m not in the same state long enough to need a forwarding address, but I’ve got my one luxury—my truck,” she murmured. Back in school, she’d dreamt of coming back and teaching at good old Mason High. If time had made her anything, it was cautious. Never outstay a welcome and never put down roots. Roots led to feelings and attachments. If she moved around enough, then she had no one to come home to—and no one to hurt, or who could hurt her.
A lock of hair slid over her cheek as she palmed the door handle. She stared at her reflection in the glass. In school, she’d worn her hair in headbands and braids, hesitant to sport makeup. Now she sported gentle waves and had discovered the fun of using cosmetics to accentuate her appearance. The beginnings of laugh lines framed her mouth as she smiled. “Time to shine.”
Macy yanked the door open and started up the massive granite steps in the inner foyer. She had paused to tuck the loose strands behind her ear when someone called her name from behind. At the top of the staircase, she turned. Relief washed over her at the sight of the two men approaching her. “Berto! Remi! I’d hoped you two would show up on time.”
The men in question bounded up the stone steps, wearing matching grins. Berto Katz, the brunet of the pair, swept her into his arms. “And miss an evening to dish with our favourite writer? Hell, yes, we’re on time.” The spicy scent of his cologne wrapped her in warmth. He kissed her cheek and his soft beard tickled her skin. “And we might even take you home for a thorough fucking.”
Heat infused her cheeks and embarrassment raged through her veins. Berto was indeed hot, but he wasn’t the man in her heart—no one was. Though he always knew the right words to take the edge off any heavy situation, making her laugh wasn’t all she wanted in a man. She wanted to be swept off her feet, snagged in a whirlwind of devotion and loved to within an inch of her life—if such a man existed.
Remi Wayne slapped Berto’s muscular biceps once Berto had set Macy back on her feet. “I thought we agreed not to embarrass her—until after she forked over the number for her cover model.” His blue eyes sparkled and the dimple in his cheek deepened. He raked his hand through his sun-kissed blond hair. “That Gerard is one fine-looking hunk of man.”
“You’re right.” Berto faked a pout and tapped his bottom lip with his index finger. “We’ll get the number and then leave her high and dry.”
“I’m glad I have you two to make me laugh. Part of me wants to run screaming back to the truck. The rest of me wants to show Mason High I’m not the mousey girl they all remember.” Macy linked arms with her friends. “Were you already in there? Why’d you come back out? Is it that bad?”
“We came out here hunting for you and hoping to God you didn’t bring Will.”
She cringed, but hid her discomfort under a broad smile. “He’s history.” And about damned time.
“Thank God.” Berto squeezed her hand. “Your ex was an asshole. If I’d have known the shit he did to you, I’d have ripped his junk off with my bare hands.”
“And fed it to the piranhas at the zoo,” Remi added.
“Good ideas, but let’s forget him. I have. Tonight’s for celebrating, so why don’t you lead me in, wine me, dine me—but don’t you dare leave my side. The confident side of me can’t wait to show them how I’ve changed, but the deep-down, timid part of me doesn’t want to be here.”
“No one wants to be here—except Faith, Mari Ellen and Stafford Green. He’s bald and not the tower of muscle he used to be.” Remi snorted. “Which is why we’re on you like glue. Who wouldn’t want to be seen with the premier erotica author of this century? Although, if Connolly makes a move, then we’ll let him ravish you.”
“He’s here, you know. We scoped out the scene before you got here,” Berto added. “And he looks mighty tasty.”
Macy stopped cold. “There are days when I don’t like having you two as friends. You love to cause trouble.” She released Remi’s arm. “I embarrassed myself all those years ago. I can’t freaking look Tanner in the eye now, knowing he remembers and knowing Stafford is here. He treated me like shit.” Her hands trembled as she wiped them on her skirt. “Actually, I hope they don’t remember me. I was so naïve and clueless in high school. This is a chance to make a better impression.”
Just the mention of Tanner Connolly sent a shiver through her bones and a slow thrum to her core. Could he still look tasty, as Berto had suggested? She had longed to thread her hands in his charcoal hair and press kisses to the apples of his cheeks. She shook her head. Visions of her failed attempt to ask Tanner for a date during their senior year came to mind. In private, he’d talked about dating her and said he saw a future for them—together. He had been one of the few people to be nice to her during their high school career. Seemed like ages ago.
Despite her attempts to tamp it down, lust surged in her body and her nipples beaded. She still fantasised about him after all these years and wondered what might have been different if they’d got together. She stopped walking and planted her feet on the tiled floor. Back then, he’d acted foolish in front of his friends. He’d seemed so sweet and attractive on his own, but as soon as his football buddies showed up, he’d succumbed to the peer pressure. Wouldn’t those same jock friends be at the reunion?
Did she really care?
“I suppose you could hide in a hole to avoid the assholes on the football team.” Berto tipped his head. “But then why would you want to if you can dance with the hunks before you?” He spread his arms in an expansive gesture between himself and Remi. “Come on, we should head to the auditorium.”
Lusty thoughts be damned—she wasn’t about to let Tanner melt her carefully constructed defences and Stafford had no real bearing on her life. Macy twined her fingers with Berto’s and Remi’s and allowed the pair to lead her to the first floor of the massive building. The lemony scent of floor polish swirled through the cavernous foyer. Conversation and bass music from the auditorium filled the hallway, blotting out the sound of their footsteps on the floor tiles.
In high school, she’d believed in finding her soul mate and living happily ever after. She’d dreamt she’d settle down and raise a family in Mason with her high school sweetheart. Life had different ideas. Sure, she still wanted a family and roots, but she wasn’t in a hurry for it—not yet. Why open herself up to heartbreak when remaining an island was easier? Because it got damned lonely not being able to trust anyone, said the traitorous voice in her head.
When Macy, Remi and Berto reached the folding table serving as the reception desk, she dug in her booted heels. Faith Glanville crossed her arms and sneered. Her perfectly straight, coal-black hair framed her gorgeous, dewy face. Macy still hated her man-chasing, artificially-enhanced guts.
I’m not the scared, mousey girl I was back then. Macy forced a cheery grin to her lips. “I’m scared I can’t do this,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth. The carved floral columns lining the auditorium doors used to bring her comfort as she’d prepared for the spring drama productions. Now she wanted to run.
“Why can’t you have a good time here tonight? ’Cause she’s just as big a bitch now as she was then?” Berto whispered in her ear. “Don’t let her win.”
Macy gritted her teeth. Oh sure, use my pride against me. She shored up her courage. “You know, you’re absolutely right. Bring it on.”
Faith Glanville, head majorette and daughter of the wealthiest lawyer in Mason, had run the high school back in her day. She’d dated every available senior boy and openly voiced her dislike of Macy. Anyone who didn’t conform to Faith’s standards became a social outcast. High School Macy had never stood a chance. If her clothes had been up to par, her hair wasn’t chic enough. And God forbid, she’d excelled in academics.
No more.
As Macy stepped up to the folding table, Remi wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’d like to sign in with my ravishing date, Macy Shibley, and my life partner, Berto Katz.”
Faith’s eyes widened as her brows knotted together. She elbowed her best friend and partner in tormenting crime, Jill Mickelson. Biting back a grin, Jill turned the registration book towards Berto and folded her hands. “It’s great to see you. We all wondered if you three would be a modern couple.” Jill snorted and rolled her eyes. “You were always ahead of your time.”
Macy had opened her mouth to correct Jill, when Remi patted her shoulder. “Thank you, Jill, honey. We thought we’d let Macy out to get some air. We shelter her so.”
“Oh.” This time, Jill’s jaw dropped. “I meant—”
“If we keep her locked up for too long, she gets cranky and I have to get out the whips.” Elbowing Macy forward, Berto nodded. “Bye, girls.”
Once inside the spacious auditorium, Macy plugged her ears. The song playing on the stereo system echoed off the walls and rattled her brain. The fog from the DJ stand clouded the room, making it hard to see more than twenty feet from her face. Grief, she hoped she didn’t trip into the rows of seats.
“I’ll be right back.” Remi planted a kiss on her cheek and one on his lover’s before disappearing into the throng of dancers.
Berto wrapped his arm around Macy once more. “He’s a dork sometimes, but he’s the love of my life. I’m glad you made us go on that date.”
“You’re welcome, but that little comment was childish.” She rolled her eyes. “Whips? I think she choked on her gum.” She ducked in close and confessed in his ear, “But I loved every moment. Next time say something about using the bondage bed. She’ll pass out.”
Berto’s eyes widened and he laughed out loud. “That would be a perfect response. I love to leave them on the verge of confused.” He kissed her cheek. “How long do you think it’ll take before the rumour starts up? I give it about thirty minutes, my love.” A broad grin curled his lips. “Now, Miss Macy, our favourite free spirit, we have a surprise for you.”
“Really?” Macy scanned the crowd. When she noticed the photos of the class along the wall behind her, her breath caught in her throat. The words Most Likely to Disappear in a Crowd framed her picture. Her heart sank. Apparently the Class of ‘97 wasn’t about to let her forget her claim to fame—being counted as present in a class she’d skipped for an entire week because the teacher had just assumed she was there.
“Oh, you saw that.” Berto shrugged. “It’s just a stupid picture. Don’t let it bother you.” He pointed to another photo down the line. “See? Royce is still class brown-noser and Selene made the worst-dressed list. Big deal. I’m still the Winter Fest Queen.”
She chuckled at the sight of Berto’s knobby knees and the elaborate toilet plunger staff he carried in the picture. “You’re right, Your Highness, but somehow I had this contrived notion that becoming an author and being a respected member of the community would override that image of me.”
“Hell yes, it does,” Remi replied over her shoulder. “We think you’re great and want to show you.”
When Macy turned to reply, she instead pressed her lips together. Next to Remi stood none other than Tanner Connolly. Damn. She forced her gaze to remain on his face. If she allowed herself to glance at the rest of his body, he’d know she’d never quite forgotten him. The tips of her ears burned. Her breath caught in her throat and time slowed to a crawl. The world around her fizzled to nothingness.
His hair flopped over his forehead, no longer in the crew cut he’d worn during the football seasons. She longed to reach out and run her fingers over the silken strands. Although the perpetual dusting of hairs darkened his cheeks, the baby fat no longer remained. Laugh lines crinkled around his blue eyes and gave him a rugged appearance. Even in the dismal lighting, the sapphire of his eyes sparkled like always.
“Macy, darling, this fine gentleman wants your autograph.” Remi slapped Tanner’s back and grabbed her attention. “She’s all yours, but be warned, if you act like you did in high school, we’ll break your legs. We’ve never forgotten.”
A flush crept across Tanner’s bronzed cheeks. He dipped his head without uttering a word. Macy folded her hands to hide the trembling. Tanner met her gaze and grinned, turning her insides to warm goo—again. Dear God, how’d he do it? After fifteen years, he still held the power to make her nervous and turned-on. Her nipples hardened to points within her silky bra. Lust dampened her panties. She rubbed her thighs together to stave off the tingles. He could’ve been the one to make her settle down.
“I think we need to get drinks. Mace looks parched.”
Snapped back to reality, Macy flicked her gaze to Berto. “Cola, please. No ice.”
“Yes, a drink would be great.” Remi winked at Macy before he and Berto strolled away. Tanner toyed with the plastic cup in his hands, running his index finger over the condensation on the side.
Although she fought the good fight, she still lost and allowed her gaze to wander down his body. The last fifteen years had been kind to him, if not downright wonderful. The navy button-down shirt encased his broad chest and smooth muscles like a second skin. Even the faded denim hugged his toned thighs, leaving little to the imagination. If she remembered correctly, he had a tattoo of his football number on his right calf—seventeen.
“Like what you see?”
“I was being impolite.” Macy snorted. Damn, he’d noticed her visual groping. “But yeah, you measure up—mostly.”
“I should be hurt, but I’m not.” Tanner chuckled. His azure eyes flashed and his lips kinked into a broad smile. “I’ll bet you wonder why Remi brought me over here and then took off.”
“No, they like to stir the pot. I expected something like this.” Few men besides Berto and Remi ever paid her much attention. What made Tanner suddenly so interested in her? “Did they sweet-talk you with details of my work or my reputation? In their minds, I’m legendary.”
As Tanner opened his mouth, the song on the stereo system gained volume. He frowned and leant forward. Macy caught the scent of his cologne—or was it his aftershave?—either way, she didn’t care. He smelt of pine and spice. A tremor ran up her spine. His breath warmed her cheek. What would it feel like to have him whisper words of desire and devotion in her ear? Or to have his five o’ clock shadow abrade her thighs? What did he taste like? She rolled her tongue around her dry mouth and forced both thoughts away. Tanner Connolly wouldn’t see her as sexy. She had to get her hormones under control. He probably had a girlfriend, or most likely a wife. Besides, she wasn’t looking to give up her freedom and risk her heart over a possible fling.
“The class officers are allowing us free rein through the halls until eight.” He slid his hand over hers. “Macy, would you like to roam the building with me?”
His question snapped her back to reality. She smoothed her clammy palms over her skirt and, just for a moment, wished she could wish away the extra pounds on her hips. This wasn’t time to hide. She held her hand out. “Sure, I haven’t been through here since we graduated.”
As they edged through the crowd and headed to the short flight of stairs at the west end of the room, someone grabbed Macy’s arm. “I thought you were still here.”
She knew that squeaky voice—Faith. She gritted her teeth. Trust Faith to step in and cause trouble.
Tanner placed his hand on the small of Macy’s back as she stopped. “Hello, Faith. We were headed out for a walk.”
Faith snaked a thin arm around Tanner’s thick biceps. “Good, then you won’t mind if I tag along.”
“I mind very much,” Macy snapped. Who did Faith think she was? Common sense dictated she tamp down her irritation and ignore her. “We were talking and you’re minding the table.” Forget courtesies—high school and her timid attitude had ended fifteen years previously. “Find someone else to annoy. Mike Lawson comes to mind.”
“So you do have claws?” Faith snuggled closer to Tanner. Something akin to jealousy shone in her eyes. “We never really split, you know.”
“Did your baton land on your head the last time you twirled? We haven’t dated for twelve years.” Tanner stepped out of Faith’s grasp. “And I have no intention of taking up where we left off.” He held his hand out to Macy. “Now about that walk? Still interested?”
The words ‘you’re here to take a chance’ floated around in Macy’s brain. “I’d like that very much.” A walk was platonic—no hearts involved.
“When you’re done—” Faith notched her chin in the air “—wasting time, come find me. I have a surprise for you.” She slid her fingers over Tanner’s cheek before she stalked away.
Fury seeped through Macy’s system. Back in high school, she’d allowed Faith to walk all over her. Apparently Ms Glanville had never quite stepped out of the past. No matter. For now, Macy would let the irritation slide. In three days time, she’d be out of Ohio and away from temptation. Macy reached the top of the stairs and calmed down enough to speak. “She’s still a piece of work.”
“That she is.”
Tanner squeezed her fingers, sending heat straight to her core. Lust pooled low in her belly and dampened her panties. Macy scolded herself. Either she needed to get laid or Tanner was still affecting her like a drug, just like he had as the suave athlete he’d been in school. Damn. She couldn’t let him throw her off balance—she’d never be able to hold back and move on with her heart in one piece.
“Want to go down to the art room?” Tanner held open a glass door for her to pass through. “The school board sold off all the fancy desks and supplies, but I’ll bet it still smells like clay down there.”
“That’s where I was headed.” At the bottom of the steps, she passed the mosaic Bengal tiger mascot in the gymnasium foyer. Macy ran her fingers over the smooth tiles. She laughed. “Do you know how many band pictures we took in front of this goofy tiger because we all thought we looked cool?”
“Five that I know of.”
Macy cocked her head, taken aback by his response. “How’d you know? I tended to stay away from the eye of the camera.” When she counted up the images she remembered in her head, three shots of the marching band came to mind, and he wasn’t in any of them.
“I have my ways.” Tanner stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the art and industrial arts rooms. “And the yearbook. You still stick out like a rose among thorns.”
Rose? Thorns? She shrugged off the compliment. The Spy couldn’t tell him everything. Sweet nothings and tokens of gratitude weren’t in her nature—especially coming from Tanner. Long-term relationships just didn’t work for her. She hated the feeling of vulnerability when she offered her heart.
She drew a long breath and let it slip past her lips. If she planned to make it through the reunion without getting hurt, she’d have to give him something to miss. “You have no idea what I can do with those thorns.”

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My Immortal by Wendi Zwaduk

ebook, erotic, Host: GFP Book Tour, m/f, Publisher: Total-E-Bound Publishing, urban fantasy, vampire, Wendi Zwaduk 9 Comments

My Immortal
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-E-Bound

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-275-6

What’s a girl to do when she finds out the man of her dreams is a 340-year-old vampire? Run like hell or offer her heart.

Being a vampire hasn’t been easy for Storm Richardson. He’s not programmed to kill or harm, unless he needs to feed. When he meets Stephanie “Stevie” Persing, he knows he’s found his mate. But if he crosses the line between work and play, he risks losing the only person who matters—her.

Stevie’s been in love with Storm since the moment she laid eyes on him. He’s brooding, intense, and her one weakness. But is her heart too steep a price to pay for his love, especially when she discovers his deepest secrets?

Reader Advisory: This book contains minimal scenes of rape in a flashback. Includes smokin’ hot sex in a hot tub, a pickup truck, and the shower.

Chapter One

“Just pretend we like each other. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Storm Richardson stared at his partner, Stephanie ‘Stevie’ Persing, across the bench seat of her beloved jet black 1978 T-top Chevy Camaro. She ran her fingers through her dark hair and gave the curls a fluff as her other hand slid across the steering wheel with a lover’s touch. Hell yes, he wanted those hands all over his body.
Stevie checked the mirror and bit her bottom lip. “If we act more like a couple, then people won’t think we’re spying on them.”
If he had his way, he’d force Stevie to stop the car so he could scoop her into his arms.
I already like you. Hell maybe I even love you, Stevie.
Pretending to be her boyfriend wouldn’t require an act on his part. He’d liked her from the moment he saw her five years ago, except she’d made it clear she didn’t mirror the feeling. He assumed she liked him as a friend, but he wasn’t sure. Hell, every moment he spent around her, he smelled her arousal. The problem was she didn’t know his true identity. How could you love someone you hardly know?
He liked her endearing tendency to chatter in excess in almost every situation. Stevie insisted on talking when all he wanted to do was stare at her.
She gripped the steering wheel and her knuckles turned white. Was she nervous? Excited?
“Storm, we’re working the Chatty Catty Club tonight to catch Bruce Tripp in the act. Edie’s ready to rip me apart because we haven’t produced any damning pictures. Doesn’t your friend Falco bounce there?”
Storm frowned and glared out the window at the illuminated main drag of New Haven, Ohio. The neon highlighted the front row of stores and the silvery sidewalk stretching into the distance, but he didn’t need the enhanced lighting.
Being a vampire hyper charged his senses. He could see things at great distances, feel the tiniest pinprick on his supersensitive skin, and hear every conversation in a crowded bar. He didn’t need the work as a private investigator—being immortal gave him a lot of time to save up his resources. Then again, to stay under the radar, he didn’t stick to one profession for more than a few years. Blending in worked just fine, until he met Stevie.
Stevie managed to whip his sense of smell and taste into warp drive. The sweet scent of her fear knotted his insides. He didn’t want her to be afraid when they were on the cusp of catching yet another cheating spouse. What was the true reason for her apprehension? He yearned to climb into her mind and help ease her fears.
For the night to go smoothly, he needed to pull his thoughts away from Stevie and continue mentally prepping. Their current client, the ever-exciting Edie Tripp, was just that—a trip and a pain in the ass. She made his brain ache. She suspected her husband of cheating with his secretary and wanted Storm and Stevie to catch him in the act, or as close to ripping the sheets as possible.
He needed something to get his mind off the pesky woman and the lousy way he was about to spend a perfectly beautiful Friday night.
“So, will Todd be there?” Stevie asked, her voice tinged with annoyance. “You didn’t answer me.”
“Yes, sweetheart. Todd’s the bouncer, and yes, he’ll be there.” Storm smirked. His friend and fellow vampire, Todd Falco, could crush iron with his bare hands.
At the traffic signal, Stevie screeched to a halt. She turned to him and rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant, Storm. Do you think he could get us through the line faster? I hate to wait in heels. Then again, you know how much I hate working in heels to begin with.”
Storm rubbed his jaw, blotting out a smile. She hated anything but comfy sneakers or good old socks. Unfortunately, clubbing required sexy clothing and footwear. Whether she was comfy or not, she looked darn cute jacked up four inches in knee-high boots.
“If we cut in line, honey, then we’ll give ourselves away. The point is to blend in. Don’t worry about the heels. You’ll be able to sit at the bar. Allan’s waiting on you to give you the scoop about our clients.”
Though it was nearly impossible for him to disappear in the crowd; he was a freaking vampire. A bloodsucker and damned sex fiend.
He couldn’t blend in if he tried.
Women clung to him in droves, claiming they liked his raw sex appeal. He never understood the draw. When he looked in the mirror, all he saw was a monster in expensive clothing longing to regain his humanity.
Stevie stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and distracted him from his pity-party. “Fine, but this time, you’d better act like you want to be there with me. The only attention I got Tuesday night came from the tacky bartender and what he wanted was a better tip. Fortunately, Allan’s more of a gentleman. Still, we aren’t acting like a convincing team when you pretend I don’t exist.”
Storm frowned. Oh, she existed and blocked out the image of every other woman in the room. She inhabited his dirtiest fantasies each time he closed his eyes. In his latest dream, he wanted to throw Stevie against the nearest wall and make love to her until they both screamed with delight.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. But then Stevie never saw that because of the never-ending line of women dogging his heels. What would she say if he finally told her the truth? She had an open mind. When he asked her about ghosts, she claimed to believe they existed.
Vampires were people, too…
Storm clenched his jaw. His heart thudded and fear thundered through his veins. The reason he kept his identity secret was the sheer terror of knowing she’d run screaming into the night if she knew.
When the song on the stereo ended, Stevie interrupted his thoughts. “I don’t know how you do it, but you manage to find a willing woman everywhere we go.”
“For your information, I didn’t force Sallie Carmen to give me her phone number.” He studied her profile. Stevie turned his insides out in every delicious way. No other woman existed. “And I never called her.”
Stevie made a gagging noise. “Right,” she replied, drawing the word out. She fiddled with the radio and turned it up a bit to sing along with the Vinnie Joel song. Storm grinned. Stevie’s alto voice complemented Joel’s country twang well.
As she continued to harmonise, Storm took the opportunity to take a good look at her. Her long mahogany hair cascaded down her ivory shoulders in soft waves. She wrapped her hands around the steering wheel, caught up in the emotion of ‘Best Mistakes’. He smiled.
Her delicate hands could wield a gun with deadly accuracy under the toughest circumstances. If he was a gambling man, he’d bet he was already in love with her and had been since the day he first saw her.
At the stoplight, she smoothed back the fringe of hair partially covering her eyes and glanced at him. He could get lost in those pale blue orbs. The thick liner and mascara gave her a hint of mystery and concealed her innocence. Her devotion and compassion ensured she’d make any man a good wife. He’d bet she was a hellcat in bed, not that he actually knew firsthand. Each time he tried to get close to her, she shied away and it drove him nuts. He’d like to kill the bastards that made her so gun shy—if he could get the whole story out of her.
“So what do you plan to do to capture my attention?” He raised a brow. Because I want to catch you with your guard down…
“I know how you hate to lose, so I’m placing a wager.”
“Okay, what’s your wager?” He grinned. A sparkle lit her eyes and made his cock twitch. True, he hated to lose, but with Stevie as the reward, he’d gladly suffer defeat and tell her who he really was.
“Instead of crashing on the couch tonight, I’ll sleep in your bed. But you have to pay attention to me to win. If you accept numbers and dances from any woman tonight, then I win and you have to sleep on the floor, Storm Richardson. Do we have a deal?”
For the past three weeks, Stevie insisted on staying at his house after their evenings of playing detective and catching misbehaving spouses. She claimed she hated driving the extra half an hour home, but he knew the real reason. She needed the reassurance that someone had her back in case one of the angry spouses wanted retribution.
Storm insisted on being her protector. Plus, he had a sneaking suspicion that Gypsy, her younger sister, had probably moved back into her apartment. Her presence grated on Stevie’s nerves. Gypsy tended to take whatever she saw, even if it wasn’t hers to have.
Damn, he wanted Stevie in his bed every day and night. Yes, indeed, the idea of winning sounded pretty damn rewarding.
With a curt nod, he spoke. “Give the valet the keys and get in line with me.”
As she pulled the car to a stop, she stared at him. “Well? Do you agree? I won’t get out of the car until you tell me.”
He unhooked his seatbelt. Her feisty streak had reared its hot little head. Unspoken sexual tension clouded around them, along with a new scent—her arousal.
Time to kick it up a notch. “I’ll tell you while we wait. Or do I have to spank you to get you to behave?”
A smooth eyebrow curved while she bit her lip, as if pondering his words. He refused to give her much choice in the matter.
“Deal.”
Storm walked around the car to open the driver’s side door for Stevie. He dipped his head in greeting to the parking lot attendant and held his hand out to Stevie. She blushed and gave in with timid acceptance. He twined their fingers together and led her to the end of the short queue. “At least we’re here early enough to scope out the patrons.”
She wrapped her arms around her body and huddled close to him. The thin, fire engine red halter dress barely covered her voluptuous frame. Goose pimples rose on her pale skin and he thought he could hear her teeth rattle.
“It’s the middle of August and at least eighty-eight degrees here in New Haven. I can’t fathom why you’re cold,” he murmured in her ear. This time when she shivered, it wasn’t from the chill. “Let me warm you, baby.”
Needing to feel her in his soul, he pressed her back tightly against his stomach and curled his arms around her body. She stood eight inches shorter than him in bare feet and the sexy boots put her at perfect kissing level. His gums ached for a taste of her and it took the utmost concentration to force the hunger away.
“So when does this bet take place, Stevie?”
When she cocked her head, she gave him a great view of her porcelain neck. Her jugular vein practically called to him. Dammit.
“Why not start right now, Storm? I’ll bet you can’t focus on me tonight, but calling me ‘baby’ was a good start.” She angled her head so her lips hovered mere millimetres from his ear. “And maybe, I want you to spank me.”
Her husky whisper sent a fresh jolt of desire to his cock and his mouth watered. He wanted to smack her ass and sink his body deep within hers until she screamed his name.
Grief, he was in trouble.
“And when I win?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” She curled her fingers around his hands.
He felt the sizzle from her touch straight to his groin and his heart. She’d be his undoing and he welcomed the challenge.
When he bent to nuzzle her neck, a strange new scent charged his senses. The aura of roses and baby powder danced around her body. The lack of male musk meant she hadn’t partaken of sex for quite a while. The stronger, pure scent of her arousal slid over his senses. She wanted him. “You split from Ace, didn’t you?” He licked his lips.
She let go of him and whirled around. Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “Yeah, well, there wasn’t much to it, but I don’t want to go into that here.” Her fingers knotted together. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” Cupping her chin, he forced her to look at him. Her blue eyes clouded, making them the blue of the deepest ocean water or the sky before a raging thunderstorm. Would her eyes darken when they made love? He needed to find out and soon.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. The nervous gesture sent shivers along his spine. A couple of inches lower and he could taste her sweetness. He forced his lust aside. She needed a friend, not a horny vampire. Not yet.
“What did he do to you?”
As she squared her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “He screwed Gypsy and then claimed he thought she was me. I don’t know how, since she’s five-nine and honey blonde. He said something about being shit faced and needing my comforts. I didn’t buy it then, and still don’t. It was pitch-black when I caught them in my bed.”
Storm fought the twin waves of relief and anger. He hadn’t liked Ace from the beginning and the fact the jerk screwed her good-for-nothing sister only confirmed his feelings. His heart still ached for Stevie, better off or not. Life tended to dump on her in garbage truck proportions.
“Why did you think scum like that would make you happy? His name is Ace, for God’s sake.”
A lock of glossy, dark hair swept across her forehead when she looked away. “Actually, his name is Herbert Axel Blake.”
He tried to contain it, but the laughter bubbled up on its own accord. She eyed him curiously then burst into giggles, too.
“Yeah, that’s his real name. I guess he thought Ace sounded cooler.”
Stevie rubbed his chest playfully, sending lust surged through his veins. He brushed her tresses from her eyes and trailed his fingers down her cheek. “It doesn’t sound cool at all.”
Her lips parted as she snorted. “I doubt I could’ve married a Herbert. It sounds too old-fashioned.” There was a definite catch in her voice.
He choked on his good humour. Too old-fashioned? What would she say when she found out he was three hundred and ten years old and grew up in Colonial Massachusetts? That was ancient history, even by his terms.
Deciding to try his luck, he posed a question. “How about a Jacob?”
She crinkled her slightly upturned nose. “Who’s Jacob?”
Flashing his best smile, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Me.”

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Also Available from Wendi Zwaduk:
- Right Where I Need to Be, The Wild Rose Press
- Learning How to Bend, Total-E-Bound
- Must Be Doing Something Right, Total-E-Bound

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