– the latest release in my Hot Nights in St. Blaise series, and tomorrow I’ll have a Weekend Writing Warrior snippet from the same snoking hot story! Thanks for joining me here!

Welcome to St. Blaise, Missouri: Home of The Men and Women of St. Blaise Regional Medical Center

When the St. Blaise Regional Medical Center Board of Directors hired hometown girl, Beth Watkins, to jump start their public relations, they never imagined she’d be stripping their most prominent doctors, nurses, and support staff down to their birthday suits in order to beef up the hospital’s bank account.

                                                         
Six men and six women were chosen to represent the best and brightest of this little town nestled in the heart of the Mark Twain National Forest. They also happened to be the hottest tickets in town. Soon the fundraising calendar is spiking temperatures throughout the Show Me state, and the men and women of St. Blaise are setting their small-town nights on fire.

Mr. Mayhem

Lab tech Melanie Curtis claims Dr. Marc Mayhew’s shy smile won her vote for Mr. May, but the fact is she’s been aching to get a taste of the delicious Pathologist’s mochachino skin since the moment she set eyes on him.

Quiet and reserved, Marc was happy to take refuge in his research until she walked into his lab. He tried to ignore the attraction that sparked and sizzled each time she drew near, all too aware of the strict edicts issued by the hospital’s Human Resources department, but he couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t mind subjugating himself to his bossy little subordinate. Over and over again.

The only variable he couldn’t predict was how far Melanie was willing to go to get the results she expected. When she tests his mettle, Marc finds he’s more than willing to risk everything on a case of chemistry run amok if it means he can claim her as his. For keeps.

Here’s an excerpt:

“You don’t get to call all the shots.”

His voice came low and soft, wrapping around her ankles like smoke and wafting over her. Staring into his ebony eyes, it was impossible to pretend she didn’t know exactly what he meant. Precious oxygen seeped from her lungs. Wrinkling her forehead in concentration, she focused on dragging air back in.

“I don’t mind you callin’ some of them. Like what happened earlier…” His drawl deepened, flowing thick and rich as molasses over the rough edges of a raspy laugh. “As a matter of fact, I like a woman with a take-charge attitude.” She looked up, and her heart skipped a beat. He stared straight at her, sparkles of laughter shining bright in his eyes, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But make no mistake, if you happen to be taking charge of me, it’s because I let you.”

She blinked, taken aback by the steel behind the velvet delivery. Her eyebrows arched. “Should I call you ‘sir’?”

His voice dropped another octave, rumbling up through his long lean body. “Oh, yes, ma’am. Please do.” Her chin jerked up and the sparks of amusement lurking in his eyes burst into flame. The smile he’d been fighting widened into a happy grin, and he nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll call you ‘ma’am’ and you call me ‘sir’ and please God, tell me I can strip you out of those PJs right now, Miss Melanie, because I don’t think I can take another minute of thinking about stripping you out of those PJs.”

She was in his arms before her brain could process the run-on sentence. All she heard was fervent desire in his tone. All she wanted was the same thing from him. His lips were hot and heavy on her neck. She fought her way through the fog of want clouding her mind and made a grab for the sassy she used as a shield.

“And if I tell you to get on your knees again?”

Marc slid to his knees in front of her, dragging hungry kisses in his wake. Grasping her hips, he looked up at her, cool and unashamed, reveling in a position most other men might find degrading. “Yes, ma’am.”

Bowled over by the rush of power surging through her veins and the unbridled lust his open, expectant acceptance unleashed, she gaped at him. “Jesus.”

His smile turned roguish, the wicked gleam in his eye letting her know that he knew she was not the least bit in control. “I thought it was ‘sir’,” he replied with unsettling equanimity.

He pushed the pajama top up with one hand and slid the waistband lower with the other. His breath washed over her flushed skin. Her stomach quivered. He ran his hands over her hips then cupped her ass, pulling her closer to him. “We need ground rules.” His lips whispered across her bare belly. She ran her fingers over his short, soft hair then laced them at the base of his skull, holding him just where she needed him most.

“From here on, no secrets. We don’t have to advertise our relationship, but I will speak to Dr. Watkins about this change in…status and we’ll figure it out from there.”

She stiffened at the mention of the Chief Administrator’s name then melted into a puddle of girl goo when Marc kissed lower and lower. He trailed down to the apex of her legs and exhaled slow and soft. The rush of warm, moist breath seeping through her cotton shorts left her completely undone.

“Tell me now if you want to stop. We’ll never talk about what happened earlier. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll try not to think about how sweet you tasted or how hot you were all wrapped around me.” His ragged breaths told her she wasn’t the only one clinging to reason by a thread. “Tell me I’m not worth the risk, and I swear I’ll do my best to stop wanting you.” He tangled his fingers with hers, knotting them tight. “But I won’t be something you have to hide. And there are going to be people, plenty of people, who will have an issue with me loving you.”

I’m at the Romantic Time Booklovers Convention in Kansas City this week. To Celebrate, I thought I’d post a bit from one of my books each day that I’m away. Looking for one of my books? You can find them all on my page at All Romance eBooks!

Today I’m featuring March Madness – #3 in my Hot Nights in St. Blaise series – one hot story each month in 2013!

Welcome to St. Blaise, Missouri: Home of The Men and Women of St. Blaise Regional Medical Center

When the St. Blaise Regional Medical Center Board of Directors hired hometown girl, Beth Watkins, to jump start their public relations, they never imagined she’d be stripping their most prominent doctors, nurses, and support staff down to their birthday suits in order to beef up the hospital’s bank account.

                                                         
Six men and six women were chosen to represent the best and brightest of this little town nestled in the heart of the Mark Twain National Forest. They also happened to be the hottest tickets in town. Soon the fundraising calendar is spiking temperatures throughout the Show Me state, and the men and women of St. Blaise are setting their small-town nights on fire.

March Madness

Shelli Ann Jones never considered ‘It takes one to know one’ an effective pick-up line, but when she runs headlong into St. Blaise Regional Medical Center’s elusive Mr. March, she revises her opinion.

Trauma Surgeon Kevin O’Shea should come with a sign that reads BEWARE OF THE DOG, but Shelli Ann couldn’t hold that against him. She only wanted him for his body. At first.

Kevin is fascinated by his new neighbor. So fascinated, he might be turning into peeping Kevin.

The tables turn when Shelli Ann uses the same meaningless flirtation, casual intimacy, and careful standoffishness Kevin thought he had trademarked against him, forcing him to unleash the full force of his dogged determination in his pursuit to win the heart of the only woman who could break his.

Here’s a taste:

Christ, you’re hot,” he growled.

“You’re hot too.”

He laughed. “No, I meant…I can feel you….”

She arched her back and the sensation of hot woman pressing against hard dick blew up the tracks his train of thought had been traveling. Turning on his heel, he pinned her to the nearest flat surface and reclaimed her mouth. The fridge rocked in time with her circling hips. Her hands fluttered, touching him everywhere, but not nearly enough. Relinquishing her mouth, he peppered her jaw and throat with hungry, wet kisses.

She hiked his shirt up to his armpits then raked her nails down his back. “Hurry, boy,” she whispered.

A long, low groan ripped from the soles of his feet. His body bowed, shying from the pain but all the while begging for more. She did it again and he thrust against her, mindlessly seeking the comfort of her body as lines of fire raced down his back.

“Beg.” She murmured the word against his ear. His body shook, need and exhaustion

battling for precious ounces of strength. God help him, he almost gave in. He almost sank to his knees and begged the woman to let him fuck her until they both passed out. He was this close. Until she added, “Come on, Tiger. Beg.”

His grunt of frustrated disbelief gave him just enough propulsion to whirl away from the fridge. Juggling one laughing, gyrating, maddeningly eager woman, he stumbled to the bedroom. Dumping her on the center of the bed, he followed her down. He pulled her hands from his neck and pinned them high above her head. The echo of her laughter bouncing off the walls faded as the sparkle in her eyes kindled.

She arched off the mattress, lifting her chin to the ceiling and leaving her throat exposed and vulnerable. He went for the jugular, scraping his teeth against her throbbing pulse, sucking the tender skin into his mouth and soothing it with his tongue. Her hips bucked. Her chest heaved. He raised his head and peered into blue eyes clouded and hazy with desire.

“I never beg.”