Kensington Aphrodisia ♦ SEXY BEAST IX anthology ♦ Genre: Paranormal; Shifter ♦ Release Date: September 1, 2010
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The Between. A race of people between light and dark. Good and evil. Human and animal. The world discovered their existence over a decade ago, and so far the balance between humans and Between has been precarious at best. One bite is all it takes to cross the line from human to Between. It doesn’t matter what species of shapeshifter bites a human–only the soul can dictate what kind of animal is most suited to a Between. Many humans think they’re dangerous and should be locked away, while others covet their power.

On a fateful camping trip, fiery Oregon beauty Rhiannon Reid is kidnapped and turned into a “Between”–a magical shape-shifting creature. Now forced to prove her worthiness to the group’s golden king, lion-shifting Elan Delacourt, the two test each other’s strength and character–but lose themselves in the hot-blooded battle…

This is an unedited excerpt, it may differ slightly from the final version.

Elan rolled his tight shoulders, shoved his hands in his pockets, and left the room to wander down the hallway that lead to his suite. He smiled tiredly to the Guards positioned along the hall, and they nodded back.

His eyes burned with grit, and he knew he should sleep, but doubted he’d be able to. The way his muscles felt, he’d probably do better if he spent an hour in the gym before he crawled into bed. What he should not do was call Rhiannon to see if she was still up. Nor should he walk down the long pathway to her house and just surprise her. So far, she’d protested neither, no matter how late he worked. She just slid her hands over his body and kissed his as greedily as he kissed her. No questions, no accusations, nothing but a quiet understanding of the momentary escape from reality they both needed.

And, God, he needed.

It was dangerous and stupid to crave her like he did. Even more dangerous was that he enjoyed talking to her as much he enjoyed fucking her. Sex was one thing, but any other kind of intimacy shouldn’t even factor into this affair. He was supposed to be winning her over, not the other way around. Damn it.

“Sire.” The Guard stationed outside Elan’s suite snapped to attention and held the door open. “You have a visitor.”

The other man didn’t specify who, but he didn’t need to. Only a handful of people had the security clearance to be allowed in the king’s private quarters, and when Elan stepped into his sitting room, he drew in a lungful of her sweet scent.

Rhiannon.

Tilting his head, he waited for the feel of her boundless energy to vibrate along his senses. It didn’t come. Frowning, he followed the smell of her into his bedroom and over to the wide expanse of his mattress. She lay curled on her side, one palm tucked under her cheek in sleep. His chest tightened with a tenderness he didn’t want and shouldn’t feel. The pose made her look impossibly young and innocent, something he knew wasn’t true. A smile curved his lips. The woman more than matched him in insatiable wickedness.

Reaching out to push back a flaming curl gently, he watched her eyelashes flutter. She yawned, rolled onto her back, and stretched. Those changeable eyes locked on his face, unpredictable as her moods, and she smiled. “Mmm. I tried to stay up, but the bed looked too inviting. What time is it?”

“Very late. Or very early, depending on your definition.” He let his fingertip trail over her soft cheek, down her throat, and across her collarbone as he mapped his way to her cleavage.

Arching into his touch, she chuckled. “I wore myself out today. Kira has me teaching Pilates to the poor, unfortunate guys on your Guard. The women on the Guard are loving the show, and I’m pretty sure Kira’s just enjoying watching the men be tortured into flexibility.”

He knew that. Every move she made was reported back to him, but listening to her animated retelling made him smile. “How’s my brother doing with it?”

“Very well.” She licked her lips and stared at his mouth, desire shimmering in her gaze. “And flirting with me outrageously while he shows off for his people.”

Elan’s hand froze, hovering over her silken flesh. He shoved back the totally unfamiliar jealousy, reminding himself that the more Between Rhiannon liked and cared about, the more successful his plan would be. He closed his mouth tightly, hiding the fact that his fangs had elongated to deadly points.

Sitting up, Rhiannon tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor beside the bed. “It’s good that I’m keeping in practice with my teaching for when I go back to Portland. I’m going to have to hit the ground running at the gym.”

His muscles tightened as the blow of her leaving hit his gut the same way his jealousy had. That she was leaving wasn’t a surprise–that he hated the idea was. It was a bad sign and it worried him. Shoving his hand into her red-gold hair, he pulled her head around until he could slam his mouth over hers. The possession in the gesture angered him because he knew he had no right to feel it.

Her lips parted under his, welcoming his kiss. He groaned and filled his hands with her breasts, desperate to touch her, to claim her. The lace of her bra maddened him, kept him from softness of her flesh, the tightness of her nipples. A quick jerk and the fabric gave under his superhuman strength. He threw the offending garment in the same direction as her shirt.

DANE, The Lords of Satyr

My husband just got back from 2 weeks in Sweden and Denmark. It was part work and part vacation for him. I stayed home working on Bastian, my 5th Lords of Satyr novel. I missed my husband, but I enjoyed my alone time with Bastian!  Oh yeah!

And I have to say that it is SO much easier to work when my husband’s not here. No interruptions, except phone calls. And I got things done, baby! I worked on my novel every day, but I also assigned myself one task from a to-do list. One day I cleaned a spare bedroom, which tends to become a catch-all room for empty boxes and ‘treasures’. The boxes got flattened and put out with recycling and most of the ‘treasures’ went to Goodwill. I think I need to send my husband off once a year, so I can do spring cleaning like this!

Without exception, my friends all said they envied me because I had the house to myself. And, although I’m glad my guy is home again, I did enjoy the solitude. Are you like this? Even though you love your husband/partner/SO/children/pets, do you yearn for some alone time? To clean, to read, to shop, to think, or whatever you want? What do you do when they’re gone?

Drop a comment for a chance to win a copy of my newest release–Dane, The Lords of Satyr.

Elizabeth Amber
Nicholas | Raine | Lyon | Dominic : The Lords of Satyr series
Dane ~ RT Book Reviews TOP PICK! (June 2010)
hot historical paranormal romance
Kensington Aphrodisia
www.elizabethamber.com

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ElizabethAmber/

Maybe no one has noticed but I’m late getting this done. Here on the west coast it is nearly 11 a.m. If it hadn’t been for an ad in yesterday’s paper, I would have tackled this blog much earlier. Here’s the deal. I live not far from Harry and David headquarters. Their peach orchards are producing at fever pitch, and once a year for one morning lasting no more than two hours until the supply runs out, they sell #2 peaches for 10 cents a pound. Need I say more? My kitchen counter is now filled with ripening peaches and I’m drooling.

Onto the reason for the above title–the other night I was meeting with some of my writer buds when the subject of research came up, specifically erotic research.

Picture this: one day my fellow writer/friend Rosie and I are talking about our ignorance in certain areas. As I remember it, Rosie was the one to suggest a fact-finding trip to Castle’s, the local sex shop. She insists I made the suggestion, but she’s wrong. Before Castle’s came to the area, the only sex shop was in a nearby burg, a tumbling-down little place next to a rundown hotel. No way would I ever go in there. But Castle’s wasn’t that far from Barnes & Noble and several nice restaurants. There’d been moral grumbling when they first opened for business, but things had settled down.

Although Rosie and I contemplated wearing disguises, we opted for honesty when we parked in the parking lot of another business and snuck in the side door still wearing our sunglasses. A couple of female clerks who looked like they were still in high school were unpacking, ah, costumes for a little BDSM play. No way was I going to head in tht direction. A beefy, tatooed man and his tiny girlfriend were looking at videos–another area I decided to put off for later.

No one was near the sex toy aisle so there we snuck. It was more of a corridor than an aisle with row upon row of dildos, a few larger than trees. Wincing, Rosie and I continued. I’d give a list of everything we examined but there were some items beyond my comprehension. Clearly my education had been lacking. Gathering courage, Rosie and I broke ranks, each of us heading for what interested us most. Lets just say that my purchase required batteries. When we hooked up again, we’d grown bold enough that we decided to check out the blow up dolls up close and personal.

That’s when we started giggling. And giggling some more. With tears streaming, we again separated. Somehow I wound up asking one of the underage looking clerks why certain toys were behind glass cases. Those, I was informed, were the Rabbits, popular and expensive and therefore subject to theft. Oh, duh, thanks.

Rosie reappeared with a middle-aged paunchy man in tow. Rosie, what have you done, I thought. Truth was she’d snagged the manager by telling him we were erotica writers. He was fascinated. And fascinating.

The highlight of our conversation with him came when he led us down a long, dark hall. This better be the way to his office, I thought. Then he turned on the light and our attention was immediately drawn to the three massive embroidery works on the walls. All three depicted lush nature scenes that made me think of Hawaii complete with birds, butterflies, deer, and magnificent flowers.

“I did those,” the manager said. “Each one took at least two years, and I’ve been offered $20,000 for them.” Believe me, they were worth it.

When the talkative man finally let us go, Rosie and I exited with our brown paper bags not daring to look at each other for fear of hysterical laughter and awe.

Have we been back to Castle’s? What do you think?
Vonna
www.VonnaHarper.com

You probably know Up in the Air (yes, the one with George Clooney). It’s about a man who fires people for a living. He travels all over and is perfectly happy in airports, on planes, and in hotel rooms. From the outside, we’d say he lives a lonely life, but he doesn’t see or feel that there’s anything missing. This man clearly has some serious issues, though we never really learn what they are. Then he meets a woman and, as any good heroine should do, she shakes up his life. He goes through a character arc, which is the part I always love most in a story. He grows into a more fully developed person who’s not only capable of loving, but wants to love and be loved.

Lars is a similar story. He has some serious emotional issues, though he, too, seems pretty oblivious. Except, maybe he’s not because he doesn’t just bump into a woman – in fact he ignores the charming girl who’s attracted to him – he actively seeks a relationship with (wait for it) a full-size female doll he orders. He believes she’s a real woman, and he, too, goes through a character arc. He becomes a more fully developed person who’s capable of relating to, and loving, a real woman.

The whole doll thing in Lars was hard for me to relate to, but the ending of the movie satisfied me. Lars grew enough that he no longer needed the doll and he wanted to be with the real girl, who had very patiently waited for him to arrive at this stage. I foresee a truly happy ending for those two, and that gives me a nice warm glow. Both Lars and his real girl went through a rough time, they dealt with it courageously, and they earned their just reward.

Not so with poor old George Clooney. This movie, too, has an element of unreality because, hello, can you imagine anyone rejecting George? Well, the woman in the movie does. And okay, not all love is requited, even if you do happen to be gorgeous, smart, and sexy. What really bothers me, though, is that the movie ends with him back living the way he used to, but now the airports no longer feel like home. They feel empty and lonely. And that’s it. Period. Leaving me going, “Oh come on, the man learned his lesson and he grew. He’s a better person. Give him his just reward!”

Now, I’d like to believe that soon he bumps into another woman, and this one’s the right one for him. I’d have even settled for a hint of that in the movie. But no, the screenwriter, director, and producer chose to leave us with an at best ambiguous, and at worst dismal, ending. They are obviously not romantics! No romance writer would have left things that way.

Does anyone else have comments on these movies? Or other movies or books with endings that left you unsatisfied or unhappy?

Movies, on the other hand, are often not the personal entertainment venue that books are. If I am watching a vampire movie I am, with few excepts, watching with either a group of friends or my husband. If the movie in question turns out to have its Oh dear god no! factors I am not about to just turn off the DVD player or get up and sashay out the theater. That is rude. And, if my husband had just shelled out fifteen bucks as part of a Romantic evening, leaving the cinema and heading toward Hot Topic is simply out of the question. So I suppose the responsibility of keeping me a happy movie-goer  who will be recommending the film and dying to see the sequel lies ultimately with the movie makers. And on the chance there are some movie makers out there reading this post, I will point out now there are a few areas of subject matter the vampire movie in question just MUST NOT HAVE.

Or, in other words, when it comes to vamp movies I got me pet peeves.  And here are the leaders of the pack:

Vampire movies for guys who love movies and hate vampires unless they’re being blown to shreds

I am not a fan of manly action-packed movies to begin with and have no interest in watching films where the hero’s answer to dealing with the vampire problem entails an artillery of high-powered automatic anti-vamp weapons with enough destructive capability to level a major city. To me, these are about as interesting to watch as seeing  Steven Segal clip his toenails.

Your eyes may adore me, but looking at them hurts like hell

While I’m a big fan of old Hammer films, I can never watch Christopher Lee’s red-eyed Dracula without feeling an intense and overpowering need for eye drops. Visine, Drac, it takes the red out!

The your-boyfriend-is-a-total-pussy vampire movie

Now if I was the kind of female movie-goer whose idea of a happy ending is seeing the heroine throw the hero over her shoulder and carry him into the sunset, I might actually like these types. But I’m not, so no thanks here.

It’s so gory you can’t really see what’s happening for all the flying vampire limbs and spewing bodily fluids

This one speaks for itself.. and the reason I always keep bottle of Pepto-Bismol handy on a movie night.

The Kick-Ass heroine who couldn’t hold her own in a cat fight

Sure, she looks hot as hell, she’s adept with every man-made weapon under the sun and her skill in the martial arts would put Jackie Chan to shame. But we females in the audience know that stripped of her weaponry and karate expertise she couldn’t hold her own in a true cat fight if her life -human or vampiric- depended on it. Give me a believable heroine; one who knows how to claw, scratch, bite and snatch off a scalp full of hair before the villain knows what hit him. The kind of woman who can yank out the queen vampire’s earrings and use them as a convenient eye gouger. A lady who can use a high heeled shoe as a heart stake, and with the precision of a professional javelin thrower. Because if movie makers want me to root for her they need to understand that she has to be convincing, and Gadget Gigi with the kung-fu grip just doesn’t cut it.

Too Stupid To Live endings

The film’s makers gave an enthralling plot, a sympathetic and fascinating hero, even a romantic element that was believable and yummy. But then there was… the ending. A resolution so ridiculous it could have been written by a chimp. No, that’s not quite fair. A chimp would have been more creative.

The psychic vampire

Poor Mr. Chiseled-featured vampire, you have resisted the temptation to suck human blood for decades, yet now have met the one woman that draws you like a chiseled-featured moth to a flame.

Just a word to the wise, a relationship with this heroine can’t be properly called an “us” situation. Once you’re in her life you are there to stay. But don’t blame yourself or your unbelievable good looks or even the fact you have the alluring power to make her live forever. Because everyone in her life -friends, family, acquaintances, teachers, even her third cousin once removed- have lost all sense of individuality in order that their every action, feeling, motive and thought can revolve around her and her problems like lowly planets around a bright and glorious celestial body. Yep, she has emotional needs my friend and everyone is there to serve them.  So as long as you remember these three little words -Me, Me, ME- being able to read her thoughts or not doesn’t really make any difference.

And they say vampires suck.

———————————-

So, anyone else have pet peeves when it comes to vamp movies? If so, feel free to share!

~Anya

www.anyahoward.com

We’ve done most of the tourist stuff–Graceland, yeah, three times! The Pink Palace Museum (home to the founder of the Piggly Wiggly grocery chain, who went bust and left this magnificent home unfinished…) is a favorite place, too, and we’ve sprung for horse-drawn carriage rides, leaving from the legendary Peabody Hotel and touring the moonlit streets. And of course we’ve seen the Peabody ducks countless times, before ducking down the alley across the way to eat BBQ at the Rendezvous.

So this weekend? Well, we always look for some good live music on Beale Street. But our special gig this time will be celebrating our 35th anniversary with a nice dinner at our favorite restaurant, the Mesquite Chop House, just up the street from the Peabody. Yeah, I know–we did a 15-day Panama Canal cruise in May to celebrate that–

But THIRTY-FIVE YEARS. I’m tellin’ ya…there are guys in my past who swore I wouldn’t make it to a first anniversary, no matter WHOM I married!

And my parents even suggested I elope to save them the expense and embarrassment of a church wedding they felt would be, well–another mess to clean up, since Neal had lost his job while we were engaged. He returned to grad school rather than getting another job–horror of horrors!–and they just knew I’d grow tired of supporting him on my meager teaching salary.

So now? Neal and I raise a glass every year to the way we proved them all WRONG! Kinda brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?!

Wishing YOU a wonderful weekend, too!

Some pictures for your enjoyment:

This was taken while waiting for the ferry. Is it any wonder I don’t leave here often? That last stretch of road on the way to the ferry is interesting…the jockeying for position begins earlier than you think, because at a busier time of year, one car can make a difference to whether you get on the ferry or not. We call that “the ferry races.” I won and caught ferry I needed that morning. YAY!

The Harlequin party is always a great time: This year’s theme was “picture perfect” and what a blast! This pic was taken before the dancing started and the shoes came off.
(I think if you can get through the whole evening with your shoes on you’re a wonder. Or you have toes of steel.)

At the RITA dinner with Sharon Page, Jessica Trapp and Diane Whiteside. By then, my bling dresses had been worn to the Kensington Cocktail party and the Harlequin party. But the blue stood out, don’t you think? The long stemmed roses were a gift from Alicia Condon, Editorial Director of Brava Books. A lovely gesture from a warm, lovely woman.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that photos from the past 30 years of RWA conferences were flashed on large screens overhead in the ballroom. When Kate Duffy’s photo came up there was a spontaneous standing ovation to honor her memory. She is missed, but in another moment of appreciation, her tradition of delivering chilled bottles of water to the Kensington authors during the gigantic booksigning was continued. (and SO appreciated)

For the eHarlequin Pyjama party I walked, head held high, across the lobby in my pjs. Yes, I really did. On the way back at least I wasn’t alone.

And no, I didn’t get a pic of me in those pjs…but they were black, silky and oh-so-elegant. Really. Far too nice to write in!

A wonderful conference and I’m especially grateful to the staff and Board of RWA for the fantastic job they did transferring everything to Orlando after the flood in Nashville. An incredible job!

Meantime, I’m counting down to the release of my next book, MEN TIMES THREE, an October release.

As ever, thanks for clicking on over and enjoy the rest of your summer!

I decided to use my original banner, sort of for old time’s sake. As most of you know (since I’ve been whimpering about it long enough!) I’m writing the final Wolf Tales, with orders from my editor to make it longer than I’d planned, which is a very cool thing. There’s a lot to tie up in this story, and the weird thing is, I know how it’s going to end, though I’m not quite certain how I’m getting there. Now I’ve got room to expand in ways I hadn’t thought I’d be able to, so I’m enjoying the process more than I expected.

I’m going to miss my Chanku–for over five years now, my days have been spent with Anton and Stefan, Adam, Mik and AJ. Last week I wrote about Baylor and Jake and found myself caught up in their teasing and loving and it was sort of hard to write, knowing I’ll soon be putting them aside, at least for awhile. I still have hopes of bringing them back, and I did talk to my editor about some of my ideas.

We got together last week at the Romance Writers of American national conference in Orlando, Florida. This is a shot of the hotel where I stayed–the Dolphin Hotel. The conference, originally planned for Nashville, was moved to Orlando after the hotel we were planning to be in was flooded. The folks at RWA did an amazing job, pulling off the new location so quickly–it’s not easy to move an event that’s planned to accommodate over two thousand people! It was a great conference, but the best part, of course, is getting to see so many other authors.

I also had some readers manage to come all the way to the hotel–had lunch with Lisa on Saturday and a quick visit with Maureen in the afternoon, but also met quite a few who came to the signing on Wednesday night. I do appreciate those of you who were able to come out to the event taking the time. It’s such a thrill to meet people who actually read and enjoy my books. Wonder if I’ll ever get used to that?

Anyway, I have photos up on my Facebook page with a public link if you want to take a look–you can see them here.

I left the hotel in Orlando Sunday morning at 4:30 and caught a plane out at 7:00 a.m. which put me in San Francisco by 9:30 in the morning. It was still after two before I got home, after the shuttle and then my husband hauling me home to Cobb. My own bed felt SO good, but the best thing has been getting back to work in my quiet office and losing myself, once again, in the world of my Chanku.

Of course, as soon as this book is done, I have to make a quick move into the world of the DemonSlayers and write the final book in that series, too: CrystalFire is already hanging out in the back of my mind, sort of taunting me with hints of what I’ll be writing.

In the meantime, HellFire will be out in just a few more weeks–it’s due for release August 31 and then, just a week later, the Nocturnal anthology is coming out with my story, Crystal Dreams.

Anyway, that’s sort of what I’m up to now–back to writing and hanging out on Facebook. I’m still learning how Twitter works–so far, I just don’t get it. But I’m trying! After a week of non-stop talking, I have to admit I’m enjoying the quiet here in Cobb and don’t have plans to go anywhere for awhile. May send my husband off to the mountains–I know he wants to do some hiking, but I really can’t take the time to get away. Hopefully I’ll go later in the year, once the current book is done.

In the meantime, if you stop by and leave a comment, you’ll automatically be entered in a contest to win either a copy of Wolf Tales 10 or DemonFire, and if you have both and don’t mind waiting, I will send you a copy of HellFire once my copies arrive. Oh…one other thing! I know a lot of you who read Wolf Tales are also fans of Elizabeth Amber’s–she was at the conference and we got some time to hang out together, which was very cool. Here’s what we looked like at our agent’s party in a karaoke bar where, thankfully, neither of us did any singing!

And ya want to know what we both hear ALL the time? “You don’t LOOK like you write THOSE books…” Thanks so much for stopping by.

First off, I met a great guy and now seem to have landed a boyfriend. For someone who’s been the ruling queen of Singlelandia for years, this is a little odd. I’ve codenamed him Professor Moriarty (yes, the villain from Sherlock Holmes–he picked the name, not me!)

Then, last week, I went to Comic Con with my best friend, the Mad Madam M. Here’s a picture of us waiting for the trolley.

Note all the signs at the Gaslamp Quarter station had been translated into Klingon for the “invasion” for Comic Con.

And the moment I got home, I became sick as a dog with a nasty summer cold. Having been single for so long, this is just the natural course of things to handle being ill on my own. Chicken soup? Check. NyQuil? Check. Advil? Check. Hot tea? Check. Okay, we’re as ready to battle the forces of evil as we’re going to be. But things are different this time, because I have Professor Moriarty threatening me with spankings if I don’t get into bed and get well immediately, if not sooner. On the one hand, it’s kind of sweet and a very novel experience to have someone concerned over every little sniffle. On the other hand, I’ve been doing this for a while now, and I think I know how to deal with a cold without someone telling me where to go and what to do.

Ah, well. I think I’ll keep him.

Also, if you haven’t yet, you can pre-order Sexy Beast 9, which comes out in about 3 short weeks. Check out an excerpt of my story here. We got a rockin’ review for the whole antho from Romantic Times. Go us!

These three brothers were so much fun to write. How could they not be with a Sheriff, an Army Sergeant, and a Firefighter? The novellas show their life struggles with life and love. But I think the series is even sexier because the heroes are brothers. You’ve got a friendship and blood bond that connects these men, and you see it in each book.

Here’s a peek at the first novella in my series (which will eventually come out in print!) Going Down.

Holding Out for a Hero, Book 1

Eleanor Owen needs to get out of Chicago and quick. It’s not that she doesn’t want to obey the subpoena to testify against her drug-trafficking ex-boyfriend. It’s making it to the witness stand alive, should a dirty cop make good on his threats.

Tiny, remote Wyattsville, Oregon looks like the perfect place to disappear, but it’s hard to blend into the woodwork when one of the town’s infamous namesakes sends her heart racing. Worse, Mr. Tall, Hot and Packing is the town sheriff, which means she should stay as far away from him as possible.

Tyson Wyatt is positive the sexy new girl in town is hiding something. Question is, what? He vows to feel out her secrets—including what she feels like beneath him. Preferably naked. Until then, he’s not buying the story she’s selling.

Their chemistry is sheet-melting hot, and Ellie realizes much too late that the man with the badge is as dangerous to her heart as her ex is to her life…

Now Available at Samhain Publishing

Buy on Kindle

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EXCERPT

“Well, that’s funny.” Tyson pursed his lips. He could’ve sworn he heard someone inside.

He walked around the porch to peer in the kitchen window and immediately spotted the pot on the stove. Water boiled over the sides and onto the floor.

His brows drew together as his gut tightened with the instinct that something was off. A second later, a door slammed from the back of the house.

Tyson moved quickly to the end of the porch, just in time to see a blur of black hair and bare legs, before the woman headed for the gathering of trees at the edge of the property.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he hopped the porch railing and took off after her.

He shook his head, reminding himself that he didn’t really need to ask himself why. He knew the answer. He was in uniform and driving a marked car. And when a person ran from law enforcement, it was generally because they had something to hide.

But, if anything, it spooked the woman even more and she disappeared into the woods.

Tyson didn’t lose speed. Was this the tenant of the house running? Or had someone else broken in? Either way, he wasn’t letting her get away that easily. Not that he thought for a minute she would, the woman was heading right toward the cliffs above the beach, so she was going to have to stop at some point. And when she did, she’d have some explaining to do.

Even as he gained ground, his frustration slipped away and unease replaced it as they began to approach the break in the trees.

She wasn’t slowing down. Jesus, didn’t she realize there was barely six feet out of the forest before the cliff’s ledge?

“Stop!” he screamed again, almost an arm’s length behind her now. “Dammit, lady, stop before you kill yourself!”

The woman burst from the trees without decreasing her speed and Tyson’s heart tripped with fear.

Her sharp scream reverberated as she finally saw the cliff. Her toes dug into the dirt as she tried to halt her inevitable fall.

Tyson lurched forward, grabbed her around the waist and spun them away from the edge just as her right foot went over.

Her soft body slammed against his, causing him to stumble backward and farther away from the edge. He hit the ground first, falling on his ass before she fell on top of him. His hands slid to cup the roundness of her bottom, while her soft chest pressed against his face as her arms flailed to the ground beneath them for purchase.

Jesus. Tyson let out a strangled groan as his body instantly responded to their intimate position.

Her frightened whimper and trembling body reminded him how close she’d been to going over the cliff.

“Are you okay?” he asked gruffly, rolling them so she fell back onto the dirt and then knelt above her.

Wide hazel eyes stared up at him even as she made the tiniest nod.

He grunted and slid his gaze over her slight frame, taking in her flawless pale skin. Breasts that were small, but looked like they could still fill his hand, pushed against her thin pink tank top. Her stomach was toned and her hips flared just a bit under tiny denim shorts. Her feet were dirty from running bare through the forest, even as her dainty toes shone with a glittery pink polish.

Damn but she was a sexy little thing…and she was also terrified. Whether of him, or nearly running over a cliff, who knew.

But the fear in her eyes reminded him to stop thinking with his dick, and get back into sheriff mode.

“You could’ve been killed if you’d fallen off that cliff, do you realize that?” he said tersely.

He narrowed his gaze. “Good. Now would you please explain why you were running from me, ma’am?”