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Ty has been hurt by life and has sworn off relationships, but his curiosity is piqued by a motorcycle-riding hunk who comes through his Wal-Mart line and buys the same thing day after day: two Slim Jims, a sixty-four count box of crayons and Cracker Jacks. Ty’s curiosity gets the better of him and he goes out with Jonah, but Ty’s best friend, Lucky, is sure Jonah is bad news, and it does seem that both mens’ pasts threaten their future together. Will they find a second chance with one another?

Warnings: This title contains m/m and anal sex.

Word Count: 10,005

BUY THIS STORY!

You can also find this story in Excessica’s first gay male anthology: Stuck On You

EXCERPT:

As the electronic front doors parted for me, I hesitated, realizing I didn’t even know his name. He saw me and waved me over, waiting out front just like he said, sitting on the biggest, loudest motorcycle I’d ever seen in my life. It apparently went with the boots.

“Let’s walk!” I yelled over the noise of the engine, hugging my arms across my chest. “It’s just across the street.”

“Are you serious?” He frowned. “Come on, hop on!”

“I can’t ride on that thing!” I hated admitting it, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“How come?”

“Long story.” I took a step back from the bike as he revved the engine.

“All right.” He rode the motorcycle into a parking space and I walked over to meet him.

“So what’s your name?” I asked as we started across the parking lot.

“Jonah,” he replied, pocketing his keys. “You’re…” He glanced over at me and made a face. “Tybalt? Really?”

“Ty,” I corrected, rolling my eyes and reaching for my name tag. I always forgot about it. I unpinned it and slid it into my pocket.

“Hot-headed?” he asked, putting his arm straight out in front of me to keep me from crossing the street and I smiled at the gesture. We weren’t near an intersection, and Denny’s was directly across, so we had to essentially jaywalk.

“Me?” I laughed, a sound that surprised me. How long had it been since I laughed like that? “I’m more kitten than tiger.”

He gave me a quick, sideways look, but there was a bit of heat in it and I flushed, hurrying after him across the street.

“I just thought…you know, Tybalt, from the play…” He opened the door to Denny’s, holding it and waving me in. “So your mother was a Shakespeare fan?”

“You read Shakespeare?” I watched him signal the hostess. Her eyes widened slightly and lit up when she got a look at him—not that I blamed her. The man was like a walking god in denim and motorcycle boots. But I couldn’t help the stab of jealousy I felt when she came over and greeted him, touching his arm, laughing and tucking her hair behind her ear as she led us to a table.

Me, I couldn’t be so obvious. I sat across from him in the booth and hid behind my menu until she went away with our drink orders—a Coke for me and an iced tea for him—our hostess now doubling as waitress. I wondered bitterly if she’d traded someone for our table.

“‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once,’” Jonah quoted, folding his menu and sliding it behind the salt and ketchup.

I blinked at him over my menu. “Are we filming a reality TV version of Pulp Fiction? Are you going to pull out a gun and start talking about righteousness and furious anger?”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Julius Caesar might have lived if he’d had a gun.”

“You’re certainly well-read.” I raised an eyebrow at him and tried to study my menu. The words were swimming.

“Well…” He shrugged and I was almost pleased to see him looking a little embarrassed. “Actually, I just know that one quote. I thought it was cool back in high school, cowards and valor and all that. I probably just said it to impress you.”

I didn’t say anything as the waitress set down our drinks and tried, again, to flirt with Jonah. He smiled and nodded and told her to come back for our order and I sat there, feeling very pleased with myself for no reason at all.

“My brother’s name is Romeo,” I admitted, peeling open my straw.

“Oh no, you’re kidding me!” Jonah grinned. “Do you have a sister named Juliet?”

“No sisters. Thank god she just had us two.” I snorted. “So is there a story behind your name? A whale, maybe?”

He chuckled, squeezing lemon into his iced tea. “No whales. No brothers or sisters, either. Just me.”

“Your parents?”

He shook his head and shrugged, his eyes on some distant point as he drank. “They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

The appearance of the waitress again kept me from moving past perfunctory platitudes.

Jonah ordered. “Southwestern skillet. Extra spicy.”

And so did I. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Extra syrup.”

I think the waitress finally got the hint, because she disappeared quickly this time.

“Sweet tooth?” Jonah remarked as she left.

“I’m afraid so.” I smiled.

He appraised me slowly. “Doesn’t show.” His gaze moved heatedly, darkly down, pausing at my mouth and I had a feeling he was wishing the table wasn’t in the way of his assessment.

“Fast metabolism.” I shrugged.

“What do you weigh?” He leaned back in his seat, draping his arm across the back of the booth. His bicep was twice the size of my own. At least. “One-fifty?”

“I’m probably half your size.”

He nodded. “Just about.”

“I could never bulk up,” I admitted, sipping my Coke. “I tried pretty hard, too, back in college. What’s your secret?”

The waitress arrived, carrying a tray, and started setting dishes down. Jonah was eating before she’d even set my syrup on the table.

“Well, the military helped,” Jonah went on, ignoring her altogether, his mouth half-full of eggs. “But it’s probably mostly genetics.”

I spread butter liberally on my pancakes. “You’re in the service?”

“Was,” he corrected, waving the waitress away when she went to refill his iced tea.

I hid a smile as I poured syrup. “Army?”

“Navy.” He swallowed, those striking blue eyes sharp again. “What about you? I don’t imagine Wal-Mart is your chosen career path?”

“No.” I shrugged. “But it pays the bills for now.”

I waited for the next obvious question—what do you do? I didn’t want to talk about college, a wasted engineering degree, which would somehow lead to my life with Don and Katie. No, I really didn’t want to talk about any of it.

Instead, Jonah surprised me with a less obvious but even more shocking question: “So, are you out?”

I swallowed a sticky mess of doughy chocolate chips, washing them down with a long drink of Coke that tasted like battery acid and made my eyes water. “Mostly,” I admitted, recovered enough to answer. “Family and friends, but…my job, not so much. You?”

“I, uh…” He grinned, looking sheepish. “I was an equal opportunity sorta guy for a long time. But I’ve sort of narrowed my field of interest over the years.”

I snorted, pushing the pancakes away from me. I was entirely too full already. “Being gay in the Navy is a rather frightening stereotype.”

He winked, scooping up the last bit of his eggs with a spoon. “The Village People just liked the uniforms.”

“Well, I don’t blame them,” I replied, winking back.

His laugh, like everything about him, was irresistible. Then he surprised me again. “I want to take you home.”

His words completely disarmed me and my cock throbbed when I looked into his eyes. I had to admit, I wanted it too. If it had been ten years ago, even five, I probably would have. Instead, I said, “I have to get back to work.”

“I know. Me too,” he agreed, wiping his mouth with a napkin, his eyes never leaving mine. “But I still want to.”

“I’d like to come home with you.” Yes. God, I wanted it, too. What harm was there in the admission? But the silence that followed was dangerous. In that silence, we were already on his bike, back to his place, clothes and trepidation both dispatched. During that pause, we had already sucked and fucked our way to a blissful oblivion. I couldn’t let it go on. Clearing my throat and reaching for the check, I said, “Well, I have to punch back in…”

Alex JouJou over at Manic Readers gave me a nice review of Heidi and the Kaiser. And I swear, writes a better blurb than I do!

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“Heidi and the Kaiser does steamy in spades. From the first encounter the steam is rising—threatening to eclipse all that is around it. Heidi and Kaiser start and remain center stage and their own discoveries compel you to devour each page as if it was connoisseurs chocolate. Rich, decadent, and arousing—a heady wine for your head—the story explodes off the pages.

As you turn each page you really start to want this relationship to work and for Kaiser to realize the gem he’s found in Heidi. You cheer for Heidi to speak up and you become totally invested in them ending up together. The relationship on the surface seems a bit awkward but once you understand each of their thoughts and desires it makes perfect sense.

This is a red hot novel with great characters and a little bit of mystery. Heidi is clearly the underling (pun intended) and you can’t help but want her to get Kaiser in the end. It is like a much spicier and steamier take on the whole Cinderella story. Highly recommended!”

MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD! VOTE TODAY!

(Thanks in Advance! XOXOXO)

Want to know who’s winning? Look here.

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CURRENT NOMINATIONS:

In Erotica
Heidi and the Kaiser

Best Author
Selena Kitt

In the  Sci-Fi Category
The Real Mother Goose

In the Horror Category
Truth or Dare

In the Romance Category
Falling Down

Click on the links below to hear Selena read her stories to you!

CONFESSIONS by SELENA KITT

Every erotica writer will some day face the question, “Did that really happen?” The thought that there might be a glimmer of truth behind the fiction seems more titillating in erotica than any other genre. The truth is, most mystery writers have never experienced anything like a real murder, but almost all erotica writers have presumably had sex, and have certainly been shaped by early experiences. In light of that, what is contained here is a series of short scenes titled “Confessions”-because that’s just what they are, a few of the true stories that shaped my own sexual being.

Are they all completely factual?

I don’t know if a fiction writer ever writes anything that is ever completely fact. Even when we’re journaling, we’re not journalists, after all. Nor are we poets. Fiction writers tell stories, we elaborate, we give the truth “scope.” So while I will say that most, if not all, of these stories did, indeed, happen, in some sense of the word-I have certainly, as most writers do, taken liberties, and changed names to protect the innocent. Or not so innocent.

But these are my confessions, told in the same, secret whisper I might tell them to you if we were alone, sharing the heat of memory in the dark.

BLUEBEARD’S WIFE by SELENA KITT

Tara’s husband has never shared a fantasy with her, or even masturbated – that she knows of. However, this curious wife discovers a phone bill full of phone calls to sex lines and realizes her husband has been living a double life! Instead of getting mad, Tara’s curiosity leads her to begin listening in on John’s steamy conversations in hopes of finding out what he really wants in the bedroom.

After several failed attempts at bringing fantasy to reality, however, a frustrated Tara turns to her much more adventurous best friend, Kelly, for help. A quick psychology 101 diagnosis from Dr. Kelly marks John as having a classic “madonna/whore” complex, and she quickly sets about making plans to rectify this situation. Tara goes along for the ride, hoping that Kelly may have the answer to bridging the seemingly ever-growing gap in her marriage.

HEIDI AND THE KAISER

by Selena Kitt

Length: Novella

Heat Level: eXcess 3

Price: $4.99

BDSM/ROMANCE

Mousy little Heidi is a wanna-be designer who works as nothing more than a glorified go-fer for one of the largest and most well-known companies in the world of fashion. When she accidentally stains CEO Warren Kaiser’s pants, she gets two things she didn’t expect—a spanking…and a job. Kaiser hires her as his assistant, and her “training” proves to be quite a test of surrender.

EXCERPT:

Kaiser’s office building was downtown, and between traffic and finding parking, it was 11:58 a.m. by the time she burst through the main doors of the skyscraper to ask where she could find his office at the front desk. It wasn’t until that moment, with the security guard staring at her bare legs, that she realized she was still dressed for the beach in shorts and a t-shirt.

“What floor?” the woman in the pinstriped suit with the short dark bob asked as Heidi slipped onto the elevator.

“Forty-eight,” she murmured, still out of breath.

The numbers seemed to take forever to tick by, people getting on, getting off, and every time she looked at her watch, another minute had passed. By the time the elevator opened at her floor, it was 12:05 p.m. No one got off with her, and as the doors closed behind her, she looked around for a receptionist, but there was no one at the desk.

She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder—to her left was a closed door, and to her right was a hallway. As she stood, shifting from foot to foot and considering, the door to her left opened, revealing Mr. Kaiser looking at his watch.

“Five minutes late, Heidi.” He waved her in. “Come in. Take a seat.” Her belly did a little flip as she brushed by him, putting her backpack on the floor at her feet as she sat in one of the leather, wing-backed chairs facing his desk.

“I’m sorry.” She was still a little breathless as he shut the door and sat across from her. “Lenny didn’t give me your note until this morning.” Digging into her pocket, she pulled out the folded paper and held it out to him—her invitation to be here. He just leaned back, tenting his fingers, looking at the note, and eventually she let it flutter to the desk, clasping her quivering hands in her lap.

“Do you know why I asked you here?”

She shook her head, feeling her ass clenched in the chair, her thighs damp and sticking to the leather.

He frowned. “When you answer me, Heidi, I would appreciate either a spoken ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ followed by ‘Mr. Kaiser’ or ’sir.’ Do you think you can comply?”

“Oh.” She flushed, nodding, and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Now, about the reason I asked you here…” His eyes moved over her face, down to her outfit, very similar to what she had worn the day before. “It is my general impression that you don’t enjoy your job.”

Heidi opened her mouth to deny it and saw him raise his eyebrows, as if he knew what she meant to say. “Yes… sir. That’s true.”

He gave a brief nod. “I thought perhaps we might find something better suited to you at Kaiser.” She stared at him, all the breath gone from her body. Was he going to offer her a job in design?

“Can you type?” he asked, immediately dashing her hopes.

“Yes, sir.” She frowned.

He leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands and resting his arms on the desk. “You may have noticed that I don’t have an office assistant out front? My last secretary was with me for eight years, and I have yet to find a replacement for her. It’s been several months, now, and I admit, I’m becoming frustrated and I really do need someone.”

Heidi took a deep breath, glancing around the office. “I’ve never been anyone’s secretary.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Irrelevant. You have what I need.”

“I… do?” She met his eyes, her breath coming a little faster as she squirmed in her seat. His eyes were dark, moving over her, and she couldn’t help remembering the incident in the bathroom.

“I need someone who can follow orders.” He leaned back in his chair again and she could see the memory of yesterday in his eyes. “Who would be willing to do whatever I asked. You showed me yesterday that you are… quite willing.”

Heidi swallowed, pressing her damp palms to her shorts. “I’m not sure I know what you mean?”

“Yes, you do.” His eyes were smiling. “I compensate very well. You would be my assistant, answering my calls, handing my correspondence and taking care of my professional and personal needs during the day. Would you be interested in such an arrangement?”

It wasn’t the promise if money or the poshness of his office, or even the fact that he was the head of one of the richest fashion companies in the world—it was the way he looked at her, with nothing concealed or disguised. His eyes saw directly through her, and there was no smugness in the way it appeared as if he had her figured out, because he had. They both knew it, and there was only one answer she could give him.

“Yes.” She squeezed her hands together, her legs, too. “Sir.”

He gave her a nod. “Good. I think we’ll both be satisfied with the arrangement.”

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he withdrew a large white envelope and slid it across the blotter. Heidi didn’t know if she should take it or not, so she kept her hands clasped, just looking from him to the envelope.

“This contains general information about Kaiser, which you have already, of course, since you are essentially already in my employ,” he explained. “There is also a contract and information about duties as well as your salary and benefits.”

She nodded, looking at his hand, the buffed, square nails, resting on the stark envelope. Her bottom tingled, remembering how red his palm had been after he spanked her. Shifting in her seat, she crossed one knee over the other, trying to make herself more comfortable with the yearning ache between her legs.

“If, for some reason, you read those over and change your mind…” He nodded toward the envelope. “You simply need to tell me, and you will consequently stay in your current position.”

“I can’t imagine why I would object.”

“No.” He smiled. “I don’t imagine you will. In spite of the apparent haste of my offer, I actually choose my assistants quite carefully.”

Standing, he leaned his palms on the desk blotter, his eyes moving down the front of her t-shirt, looking at her hands in her lap. “Now, there is just the matter of your tardiness.”

Her heart leapt and she met his eyes, feeling faint. “My… tardiness?”

Mr. Kaiser reached underneath the desk and Heidi heard the door behind her lock. The sound made her mouth go dry.

“One of the things that I cannot abide is lateness.” He reached down and unbuckled his belt. She felt faint as she watched it slipping through the loops of his pants. “And you will find that I am quite unorthodox in my methods of discipline.”

He snapped the belt in his hands and she jumped, gasping, her hand going to her throat as she stared at him. Doubling it over, he slapped it against his palm, the belt whistling and then smacking his flesh. Heidi sat and wondered how much it would sting and she wiggled her bottom against the chair.

“It’s a Vincente.” He gave her a small smile. “Italian. Calf-skin, medium weight. Makes a nice sound, doesn’t it?” She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move, all she could seem to do was stare at the belt in his hands as her whole body flushed with a trembling heat.

“Heidi?” He cocked his head, reminding her. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, sir.” She drew a shaky breath.

“Come here,” he instructed, and she recognized the tone immediately and obeyed, moving around to his side of the desk, amazed that her legs were holding her weight at all given how much they were shaking.

“You remember this?” He tilted her chin up and she met his eyes, nodding. “Everything pulled down and bend over.”

THE REAL MOTHER GOOSE

Available in EBOOK

and in PRINT

Settle yourself in for a wicked bed time story, a hot, wild ride through nursery rhymes like you’ve never heard them before. Set in a fantastical world where the privileged few own and raise sex slaves like beloved pets, Mother herself is the star of the show, wielding a riding crop and taking care of and training her young charges with a firm and skillful hand. But where has Father Goose wandered off to, and who will take Mother in hand when she ventures too far?

JOYFULLY REVIEWED by Patrice F:

Selena Kitt puts an amazingly unique and hot twist on the key players from the well-known nursery rhymes.   Many of the scenes definitely made me pause in admiration at her ingenuity.  I refuse to spoil it for anyone interested in reading this book by going into more detail.  The author worked too hard to offer a salacious spread of inventive sex and characters.  There is no way I will reveal the erotic goodies and wildly titillating scenes she has so painstakingly transcribed in this raunchy, racy fantasy.  There are a couple of plot twists and turns that will leave you with your mouth hanging wide open in surprise.  Voracious reader that I am, I certainly didn’t anticipate one shocker in particular and I’m the first to admit it was refreshingly creative.  Batten down the hatches because The Real Mother Goose runs riot and I guarantee you’ll be swept away on a tempest of passion!  The inspiration might be from nursery rhymes but it’s certainly not for anyone under age 18.   There are loads of familiar faces from all the various rhymes in a variety of X-rated scenarios that will astonish and delight you.

A BAUMGARTNER REUNION

By Selena Kitt

www.excessica.com

Length: Novel (63527)

Category: Menage

Heat Level: eXcess 4

Price: $4.99

AVAILABLE IN EBOOK

ALSO AVAILABLE IN PRINT

Ronnie (or “Veronica” as Mrs. B always insisted on calling her) is all grown up with a family of her own, and the Christmas she babysat for the Baumgartners is just a pinpoint in her memory. That is, until a persistent suggestion of a threesome by her husband, T.J., brings it all flooding back. When she reveals how the Baumgartners and the nanny, Gretchen, had seduced her during her time in Key West, her husband takes it upon himself to make some phone calls. Opportunity, or perhaps fate, presents itself, and Ronnie and her husband get an invitation to join Gretchen and the Baumgartners on their vacation. Ronnie finds herself torn, once again, between what she wants and what someone else wants for her – or are they, after all, one in the same?

EXCERPT:

There wasn’t any preparing myself, even if I told myself there was as I stood in front of the mirror and double-checked my hair and make-up, smoothed the brown silk skirt and tucked in my blouse. I was glad I was upstairs when she rang the doorbell. Just hearing her voice made my hands tremble and I pressed them to my thighs to keep them still as I paused at the top of the stairs.

“So nice to meet you!” Gretchen’s smile was for TJ, but her look was just for me, and I knew it. She took a step toward the stairs, meeting my gaze with hungry eyes. I couldn’t help my smile, even though it felt goofy on my face as I came the rest of the way down.

“Gretchen!” Her name felt familiar in my mouth, even after all this time. “You cut your hair!”

She laughed, snaking an arm around my neck and pressing her cheek to mine. “All of them-probably several hundred times since you last saw me, sweetie.”

It was a very brief thing, that hug, but I could smell her hair, still white-blonde but cut into a short bob now, making her thin, pale face look fuller. She smelled fresh and sweet, like clover and oranges. How old was she now? I was doing the math in my head and came to the sum of thirty-four. Five years older than I was. There were the faintest lines around her eyes when she smiled, but she was still Gretchen.

“Come on in out of the cold.” TJ shut the front door against the wind and snow, offering to take Gretchen’s coat. Her dress was short, shimmering black in the lamp light as she shrugged her shoulders and let her coat slide off into TJ’s hands. I knew she’d dressed for me, just like I’d dressed for her-and I think she knew it, too, the way her eyes moved over my blouse, unbuttoned into a suggestive V. She still had much more than I did in that department, the black fabric gathered between her breasts showing quite a bit of cleavage. I noticed TJ noticing as he poured wine and we sat around the kitchen table.

“Oh my god, Ronnie, you look so amazing.” Gretchen smiled a thank you as TJ handed her a glass of wine. “I don’t think you’ve changed at all.”

“You haven’t seen my stretch marks.” I laughed, wrinkling my nose when TJ handed me a glass and setting it aside. “You look the same too-except all your hair is gone!”

“I got too old to get away with it anymore.” She winked, taking a sip and turning appreciative eyes to TJ. “Mmm, this is good!”

“It’s a petite syrah,” TJ said with a nod.

Gretchen raised her eyebrows at him and lifted her little snub nose into the air in a delicate sniff. “And something smells fantastic.” Her eyes were the same bright green, just as mischievous and not likely to miss a thing. Every time she looked my way, I felt it, like a familiar ache.

I took a long drink of wine and grimaced. “TJ’s famous spaghetti-secret recipe, straight from his grandmother in Sicily.”

“I’m so glad you called.” Gretchen sat up and reached over to touch TJ’s hand. It was brief, just a squeeze, but I noticed her long, manicured nails, painted bright red, an uncharacteristic color for her, and it reminded me sharply of Mrs. B. She turned her gaze to me again, and there it was, that feeling like someone had just reached their hand into my belly and twisted. “I’ve thought about you so often.”

I held my empty glass out to TJ, who poured with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve thought about you, too.”

It wasn’t a lie. When I’d first ended things with Gretchen, I thought about her all the time, and I knew it would drive me insane if it didn’t stop, so I did what I needed to do. Vince, the guy I was dating at the time was a personal trainer-gorgeous, ripped, he had a brilliantly rational mind but was more than a little OCD and he taught me how to get rid of Gretchen for good. I’d put a rubber band around my wrist, and every time my thoughts turned to her, I snapped it-hard. Really, really hard. Sounds silly, but it worked. Between that and the incredibly huge eleven inch cock Vince presented me with to handle at every possible occasion-I’ve never had bigger, before or since-it was enough of a distraction to get me through. But the truth was, while it worked to keep me distracted, it didn’t work all the time. No, not all the time.

Both of TJ’s eyebrows were raised at me now and I tried to change the subject. “So, how are the Baumgartners? What’s everyone up to?”

“Oh Ronnie, you wouldn’t believe how big the kids are!” Gretchen smiled, shaking her head. I nodded, remembering them frozen in time: Janie as a gawky almost-twelve and Henry as a typical nine year old boy. Mrs. B had sent me a Christmas card that first year after Gretchen and I broke up, but then I moved, and the mail only got forwarded for so long. I still had that last photo tucked away in a box full of old diaries and journals marked: “Ronnie’s Private: Keep Out.” I remembered Janie’s big front teeth and honey-colored ponytail, Henry’s lopsided smile. Gretchen was still talking “Janie’s just gorgeous, she’s got boys following her around like puppies. And Henry’s huge, like his dad. You’ll see-you’re coming to Key West with us, aren’t you? Carrie said she invited you…”

TJ and I both said “Probably,” and “I don’t know” simultaneously. Gretchen sipped her wine and looked between us, her eyes sharp.

I held my glass out for more wine. “I still can’t think of her as Carrie. To me, she’ll always be Mrs. B.”

TJ poured me half a glass and then got up to check the sauce. I watched him stirring it, feeling warm and flushed and buzzed from way too much wine for me in too short a time. I noticed Gretchen watching him, too, and felt a twinge of something-jealousy?

“So how are Mr. and Mrs. B?” I asked Gretchen as TJ came to the table with a bowl full of spaghetti.

“Doc’s practice is going gangbusters, as always.” Gretchen held her plate out as TJ started to serve dinner. “With that bedside manner, though, go figure, right?” She winked at me and I smiled, remembering Doc’s easy-going teasing, but mostly I remembered his eyes and the way they would follow me around a room wherever I went, as if he could see right through me. It suddenly occurred to me, as TJ sat down, that he and Doc shared a great deal in common when it came to looks and temperament. Funny how I’d never thought of it before.

“Carrie’s real estate business hasn’t done as well recently,” Gretchen sighed. “The market is so bad right now. It’s one of the reasons… well… things are changing for the Baumgartners. And me, too. Kids don’t stay kids-can’t be a nanny forever.”

I nodded, feeling TJ’s knees touch mine under the table as he sat and I gave him a smile. “Still, Gretch, you’ve been with them a long time.”

“I couldn’t turn down the money they offered, Ronnie.” She shrugged, twirling noodles on her plate. “And, you know… all the fringe benefits.”

That hung there, and I wondered if TJ understood as well as I did what she meant. It wasn’t just the trips to Key West and Aspen and the New England Sound. There was so much more to working for Mr. and Mrs. B…

TJ cleared his throat, his eyes moving between us. “So why did you two break up?”

“TJ!” I nudged him under the table, my eyes wide.

“I’m curious…” He shrugged. “Are we not supposed to talk about it?”

“I don’t mind.” Gretchen smiled, but her eyes were pained, and I looked down at my plate, spearing a mushroom. “Ronnie found a boyfriend.”

“The guy I dated before I met you,” I explained, wondering if Vince even remembered my name anymore.

“You know how we girls have a tendency to abandon our girlfriends when a guy shows up,” Gretchen teased. I wanted to say something, but the wine made my head feel fuzzy, as if it were too full.

“What about you, Gretchen?” TJ asked. “Did you find a girlfriend?”

“Or a boyfriend?” I chimed in, feeling desperate.

“Oh several.” Gretchen winked at TJ but the look she gave me was full of a meaning I didn’t understand. “Nothing lasting, though. I could afford to be picky, living with the Baumgartners.”

I tried to imagine what it might have been like, if Gretchen and I had never broken up. Would she have stayed their nanny, then, I wondered? Would we all have been one big, happy family? The thought filled me with a mixture of longing, regret, and a deeper feeling I didn’t even recognize at first-it was anger.

“This is the best spaghetti I’ve ever tasted.” Gretchen’s compliment made TJ blush and I smiled.

“He’s a much better cook than I am.”

“Like Doc?” Gretchen winked.

“Better.” I touched my knee to TJ’s under the table and he looked up at me, his eyes tender. “Although I admit, Doc could make a hell of a sandwich.”

“Mmm god yes.” Gretchen’s tone changed and she gave a low, throaty moan that reminded me immediately what it was like between us. Her eyes met mine and they said it all. “He still can.”

The double entendre didn’t escape any of us. I couldn’t help but remember-not only the night Doc and I snuck downstairs to make sandwiches and, while Mrs. B slept upstairs, he fucked me on the kitchen counter, but also there was the clear memory of being sandwiched between Doc and Mrs. B in more positions than I had ever imagined.

Gretchen’s hand found my knee under the table and squeezed. She leaned forward, eager, earnest. “You are coming aren’t you?”

I shrugged, not looking up. “I don’t know, Gretch…”

“Oh, Ronnie, you have to come,” she pleaded with both voice and eyes. “This is the last summer we’re all going together. Henry’s graduating this year, and I’m… well… things are changing. It would be so good, like old times…”

TRUTH OR DARE

By Selena Kitt

www.excessica.com

Length: Novel (78,608)

Category: Romance, Paranormal, Mystery/Suspense/Thriller

Heat Level: eXcess 2

Price: $5.99

AVAILABLE AS AN EBOOK

AVAILABLE IN PRINT

Dare has always been the hothead in the pair – her twin, Nick, he was the calm, cool and collected one. But now Nick is dead, found murdered in their local cemetery, and Dare, on forced leave from her job as a Chicago police officer, goes back to her childhood home to attend the funeral.

It becomes quickly apparent to Dare that the local authorities aren’t being straight with her, or anyone else, about what’s been going on in the little Midwestern town she grew up in. The detective in her kicks in and she decides to find out what—or who—has killed her brother, so she moves in temporarily with her father and stepmother, takes a job in a local bar, and starts asking questions.

Her focus soon fixes on Shane, her brother’s best friend—the town bad boy and bad seed. The tension between the two of them has always been palpable, and nothing has changed. Sparks fly as they collide, and while Dare finds herself sinking in deeper with Shane, the mystery of what happened to her brother—and an ever growing list of victims—grows even stranger.

Dare finds her past haunting her everywhere she goes as she continues to dig deeper into the circumstances of her brother’s death, and her future looms large as her fate as a police officer is about to be determined back in Chicago. With everything coming to a head, she focuses on one thing: What happened the night her brother was killed in the cemetery? She’s sure Shane knows… something… and she’s determined to find out what it is, one way or another.

EXCERPT:

Chris leaned against the wall, away from Shane, while he lined up a shot. Dare watched for a moment, unnoticed. The muscles in Shane’s arms showed, hard and sinewy, beneath the sleeves of his black t-shirt. He was concentrating, the cue stick steady as he leaned over the table, carefully calculating, although it was obviously an easy shot.

Dare grinned mischievously. “Hey guys!”

She clapped Shane, hard, on the back. The motion sent him forward, making the cue stick hit the ball. It rolled about four inches-and stopped.

“Aww.” Dare blinked innocently. “You would have made that, too.”

Shane turned to face her, smiling, but his eyes were cold and dark. She took a step back. Chris did as well, wide-eyed.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he told her in a low voice.

In that moment, as he advanced, she thought he was serious. He grabbed her arm roughly, jerking her toward him.

“Shane,” she gasped. “I was only-”

He pulled her tightly up against him and she tensed, waiting for him to do something, anything-and then he kissed her, his mouth slanting harshly across hers. She opened her eyes wide and gasped in surprise-it was all the opening he needed and his tongue touched hers.

His hold tightened, his hands moving down her uniform and then up the backs of her thighs. She relaxed against him for a moment, stunned, and his mouth grew soft and more gentle but still insistent, his hands wandering upwards. She gave into his hands, responding with a soft moan, letting herself melt against his hardness. She pushed him away only to stop herself, but she still couldn’t break free from the tight circle of his arms.

“Let me go,” she said, unable to keep her voice steady, her eyes narrowing. Surprisingly, he did.

“You’re a goddamned tease,” he gasped, and his eyes looked pained.

“No, I’m not.” She felt herself trembling and hoped he couldn’t see it.

He laughed softly, never taking his eyes from her. Chris watched them open-mouthed, but he wasn’t their only audience. Lee watched them, too, standing near the juke, and Sam’s eyes were glued to the scene as he leaned on his broom.

“Prove it, then.” The dark look in his eyes caught her breath and held it. He stepped in front of her, tilting her slightly quivering chin up with one finger. “Meet me at the path tomorrow at nine.”

She hesitated, looking at him, hating him, hating herself. She regained her voice by swallowing past something lodged in her throat and narrowed her eyes at him, jerking away. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I meet you anywhere.”

His soft laughter followed her as she turned and walked away.

BUY IT!

AVAILABLE IN EBOOK AND AUDIO FORMAT!

Every erotica writer will some day face the question, “Did that really happen?” The thought that there might be a glimmer of truth behind the fiction seems more titillating in erotica than any other genre.  The truth is, most mystery writers have never experienced anything like a real murder, but almost all erotica writers have presumably had sex, and have certainly been shaped by early experiences. In light of that, what is contained here is a series of short scenes titled “Confessions”-because that’s just what they are, a few of the true stories that shaped my own sexual being.

Are they all completely factual?

I don’t know if a fiction writer ever writes anything that is ever completely fact. Even when we’re journaling, we’re not journalists, after all. Nor are we poets. Fiction writers tell stories, we elaborate, we give the truth scope. So while I will say that most, if not all, of these stories did, indeed, happen, in some sense of the word-I have certainly, as most writers do, taken liberties, and changed names to protect the innocent. Or not so innocent.

But these are my confessions, told in the same, secret whisper I might tell them to you if we were alone, sharing the heat of memory in the dark. These stories were written specifically for audio and recorded by the author. So if you literally want to hear me confess my experiences, you also have that opportunity. I have heard from readers in the past that their own experience was greatly enhanced by the audio version, so you should know that it is available for purchase on audio as well as being available in this ebook version.

EXCERPT:

When I checked out the movies, I was surprised to find that two of them were porn movies! And this wasn’t soft core stuff. How did I know? Well, I put them in, of course. I knew when they’d be home, and I knew I had a few hours before then, so I put the tape in the VCR and started to watch.

It was even more of a turn on, knowing he wanted me to watch, imagining him thinking about me, my jeans crumpled in a ball on the floor, my panties down to my knees, my legs spread and my fingers working my hot little clit as I watched women putting their asses in the air, begging to be fucked, watching huge, hard cocks sliding into wet, open pussies. I came once, fast and hard, but feeling guilty, I turned off the movie and quickly got dressed.

I tried to distract myself. I checked on the baby. He was fine. I ate some of their ice cream and watched MTV. But my eyes kept going to those cases on top of the entertainment center, and the ache between my legs just grew… and grew… Until I couldn’t resist, and I put the movie back in again.

I wasn’t going to touch myself. That’s what I insisted when I put the movie in and sat on the couch. I just wanted to see… but as I watched, I felt myself getting wetter, my whole pussy throbbing.

I rubbed my hand over my jeans, laying back on the couch pillows, twisting with lust as I watched the blonde on the screen sucking his cock, his fingers playing with her hard nipples.I touched my own nipples, making them hard, watching as he bent her over and began to lick her pussy from behind. I couldn’t help it.

I unzipped my jeans and slipped my hand inside, my pussy incredibly hot and wet under my fingers as I began to touch myself. He stood behind her, sliding his cock up and down her wet slit, and I wondered what it would feel like. At sixteen, I still hadn’t had a cock inside of me yet, although I’d had one in my hand and in my mouth. What would it feel like to be fucked, I wondered?