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A CIA asset, an heiress and a corporate mediator
Trinity Masters, book 6
Sebastian has dedicated his life to upholding the ideals of the Trinity Masters. However, when his best friend, Juliette, is named Grand Master, he knows secrets he’s harbored will be revealed. While he expects Juliette to be angry, he does not expect her to call him to the altar, to bind him to a stranger, Grant, and to Elle, the woman who’s haunted his dreams for years.
Then Juliette reveals a secret of her own. There’s evil at play in the secret society and she needs him to root it out. Sebastian has no choice but to go undercover to spy on his own trinity. As the danger surrounding the trio grows, Sebastian is forced to choose between loyalty and love.
Because reluctantly bound to Elle and Grant or not, Sebastian can’t deny the pair have earned their place in his soul.
Sebastian Stewart walked through the front doors of the Boston Public Library like a man with a noose around his neck. He had returned to the States at the ass crack of dawn that morning and headed straight to the legacy house, in hopes of catching Juliette there. He and his best friend—the new Grand Master—had some air to clear. A lot of it. He’d fucked up big time and had returned to Boston with the knowledge that he would have to work overtime to convince his oldest and dearest friend that he was truly sorry.
However, he hadn’t found Juliette at the house the two of them shared with several other legacies of the Trinity Masters. Being raised as part of the elite, ultra-secret society came with some nice perks. One main bonus was the connections Sebastian had to very wealthy, successful members of society.
His family, like Juliette’s, had been part of the Trinity Masters since the inception. Sebastian’s parents, his two moms and his father, were high-ranking officials working in various areas of the Department of Justice. His biological mother was the head of the DOJ cybersecurity department, while his “Aunt Joyce” was a professor at Quantico. His dad was just recently named Deputy Director of the DEA after spending years in the field as one of the department’s top agents.
When he considered his upbringing, he decided it shouldn’t have come as any big shock to Juliette that he’d followed in his family’s footsteps and pursued a career with the CIA.
However, it was a surprise. Because for the past few years, he’d lied to her, claimed he was employed as an aid worker. The lies hadn’t rested easy on his shoulders, but he hadn’t had a choice when it came to revealing the truth to her.
What he had found at the legacy house was a letter taped to the door of his bedroom. He hadn’t spoken to Juliette and he hadn’t told her he was coming home. Apparently it didn’t matter. The Grand Master was keeping tabs on him. Sebastian had opened the letter, breaking the wax seal on the ornate envelope with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The contents of the letter were the reason he was now dodging tourists in the front lobby of the public library, his head pounding due to lack of sleep, stress, and a healthy amount of pure fury.
She’d called him to the altar.
Juliette, in a pique of anger, had decided to punish him by setting him up with his trinity. He couldn’t believe she was so furious with him that she’d seek revenge in such a petty, immature, lifelong way. And the worst part was she’d set up the ceremony knowing exactly what time his flight was landing, ensuring he wouldn’t have time to talk to her beforehand.
He bypassed the library elevator and headed for the stairs. He needed to blow off some steam, to try to burn off some of this red-hot rage. When he reached the third floor, he made his way along the dingy aisle to the rare books room. Once inside the tiny room, he crossed to the storage closet door. As always, there was no one in the room. It was simple enough to enter the closet without being seen. He moved the book cart aside and pressed the secret button that revealed an ancient elevator.
Sebastian glanced at his watch and scowled. He was cutting it close. As it was, he’d barely have time to find the dressing room and don his robe before the bell rang to signal him into the chamber. Juliette had timed her revenge well.
The difference between the third floor of the library and the elegant hallway he found himself in when he stepped off the elevator never failed to feel like culture shock. Upstairs, the floors were covered in wall-to-wall carpeting that was thirty years past its prime, held to the floor with duct tape and dirt. In the Trinity Masters’ chambers, the floors were pristine, sparkling granite that screamed of prestige, sophistication, power.
He walked down the corridor and took a deep, steadying breath as he approached the dressing rooms. He passed B and C before standing outside his own assigned room, A. Glancing at the closed doors, he could only assume that his future partners were ensconced inside, donning their own robes, waiting with nervous anticipation and the realization that their lives were about to change forever.
His temper flared hot once more. This was bullshit. No matter what lies he had told to Juliette in the past, everything he’d done had been to protect her, with the best interest of the Trinity Masters at heart.
The Trinity Masters protected the country—and they’d been doing so since his forefathers helped dump some tea into the harbor. To be a member of the Trinity Masters meant giving your life to the society and its cause. And if that meant you lied to your best friend about what you really did, then you lied. And if you had to hack your best friend’s email on behalf of the U.S. government, then you hacked it.
In her heart, she knew that being a member meant getting your hands dirty, meant doing things that might seem unsavory, but were necessary. When they’d been teenagers she’d taken the high moral ground—a rebellion against her father, the Grand Master.
Now, Juliette was the Grand Master, had clearly found his file, and she was using her newfound power. For her to fuck with his life so carelessly was unforgivable.
He had returned to Boston to apologize. If Juliette went through with this, if she pledged his life to two strangers chosen specifically to punish him, then the apology would be hers to issue.
Today marks the re-release of Tequila Truth. Not going to lie. This book holds a very special place in my heart. It was my “first” menage. I blushed the entire time I wrote it, but in the end, Kylie, Heath and Colt were three of my all-time favorite characters. The book has a new look. And while I went through the story and “cleaned house”, the book is the same. I just tweaked some newbie writing. If you bought this back in 2008, you’ve got the story. No need to repurchase it. BUT…if you missed it the first time around, I certainly hope you’ll give it a look now.
One is the loneliest number, two’s company, but three is a dream come true.
The rules of Tequila Truth are simple. Shots are poured, a question asked, and only absolute truth can be the answer. Kylie has been playing the game with her roommates, Colt and Heath, since their freshmen year of college.
On his twenty-fifth birthday, Heath poses a question: “What is your ultimate sex fantasy?” While Colt and Heath’s fantasies are too hot for words, it’s Kylie’s sex dream that hits a little too close to home for all of them. Her wish? A ménage a trois with two men, complete with bondage and a bit of spanking for good measure.
Colt and Heath are only too willing to make Kylie’s fantasies come true and they make a proposal—one no-holds-barred, sexed-up weekend where nothing is off the menu. The only question is, come Monday, will their platonic relationship survive the passion?
Includes a bonus free story, Naughty is Nice
During the holidays, sometimes the nicest things are the naughtiest. Joy is making a heck of an erotic wish list for St. Nick this year. Lucky for her, she’s been a very, very good girl.
“What is your ultimate sex fantasy?” Heath filled the shot glasses with Jose Cuervo
Colt grinned while Kylie groaned. “Christ. Surely we’ve answered that one before?” She knew they hadn’t, but this particular question made her uncomfortable. Quite frankly, she didn’t think her two testosterone-laden buddies were ready to hear about her fantasies. They believed her desires to be somewhat chaste. Silly men.
The trio had been following this same tradition since the early days of their friendship. Kylie initiated the celebration, calling it Tequila Truth, explaining that birthdays should be a time of reflection. The concept of the game was simple. The birthday boy—or girl in her case—posed a question and then each member drank a shot of tequila and answered. The only rule was the answer had to be completely honest.
Unfortunately, her attempt to bring deep introspection to her male roommates fell quite a bit short of the mark. They’d played the game since their freshman year of college and Heath’s questions always revolved around sex.
“That’s an easy one.” Colt licked the salt off his hand, downed the tequila and sucked the lime. Licking his lips, he settled in for a long story. He was nothing if not an imaginative storyteller. “I’ve got this busty blonde all to myself on a desert island. We’re stranded and she’s completely at my mercy. Begging me to save her and all that crap. She’s wearing nothing but a bikini top and thong, as all of her clothes were ripped off during the shipwreck.”
Kylie interrupted at this point. “Holy hell, Colt. Why do these imaginary women of yours always have to be blonde and stupid?”
Heath and Colt laughed, but she merely raised her eyebrow, waiting for his response.
Colt stopped laughing when she failed to join in. “Oh, that was a serious question? I thought it was one of those rhetorical ones.”
She grinned despite herself. Colt was the ultimate male chauvinist pig and, for some inexplicable reason, she adored him anyway. He and Heath were the best friends she’d ever had and she didn’t doubt both of them would lay down their lives for her. They’d mistaken her for a male—Kyle, not Kylie—when she wrote expressing a desire to share an apartment with them during their first year of college.
“So what are you doing to this blonde with questionable intellect?” Heath, as always, was relishing Colt’s detailed descriptions.
“Well, I don’t know if you know this about me or not, but I’m a man who likes to be in control.”
She gasped, as if amazed, and laid her hand on her heart. “No, absolutely not. I will never believe that of you.”
He grinned at her sarcasm and continued. “There’s some rope that’s washed up from the shipwreck and this chick is hot for me. I mean way hot. She starts begging me to take her.”
At this point in his story Kylie faked a bored yawn, but he continued anyway. “I grab the rope and take her over to a coconut tree. I throw the rope over one of the low-lying branches and tie her hands above her head.”
“Have you ever seen a coconut tree?” she asked. “The branches are miles off the ground.”
“Shit, it doesn’t matter what kind of tree. Kylie, will you let me finish?”
“Fine,” she answered shortly, pressing her thighs together. The problem with his fantasy was she knew exactly where it was going and she would be hard-pressed to hide her reaction. The idea of being tied up and left completely at a man’s mercy was certainly pretty high on her list of fantasies as well. Definitely in the top five.
“So I tie her to the tree with her hands above her head. She’s helpless that way and her whole body is mine to explore and possess. I pull the thong down her legs and throw it into the sea. I tell her on this island, she’ll always be naked, that she will never hide her body from me. I can tell she likes the way I’m talking to her, all stern and powerful and shit, because she starts squirming and whimpering.”
Kylie struggled to stop reacting in completely the same way.
“I tell her to open her legs and she does. When I touch her, the woman is dripping wet and hotter than hell. I nearly come in my pants right there because I want her so bad. I reach into the back pocket of my ripped-up shorts and pull out a knife.”
He paused briefly and looked at her. No doubt he expected her to make some smartass comment about the convenience of having a knife, but she was struggling to catch her breath, overwhelmed by her own arousal.
Colt, satisfied with her silence, continued talking. “I use the knife to cut off her bikini top and I have to step away because I’m telling you this girl is stacked, with a capital S. She’s got these enormous big brown nipples and they are pointing straight at me.”
He continued describing the woman’s body in detail until finally she cried, “Enough. I think we get the picture.”
“I’m not sure I do,” Heath joked and she sent him a nasty look. “Maybe visuals would help. I’ve got some dirty magazines in my closet leftover from high school days. We could find a model who fits your description.”
“Can I help it if I’m a breast man?” Colt asked the question with a look of injured innocence that fooled her not one bit.
“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” she asked and then lifted her hand in a gesture that said continue.
“Well, I was going to go in to detail about how I suck the life out of those babies, but I can skip ahead. You get the picture.”
“Hell yeah, I do. This fantasy is a thing of beauty.” Heath sighed with appreciation apparently enjoying Colt’s answer to his question.
“So once we’re both good and hot, I take off my shorts and tell her to wrap her legs around my waist. She’s holding on to the rope around her wrists and this woman is strong. She uses her toned legs and arms to fuck the hell out of my cock while she’s hanging there naked from the tree. She’s driving her cunt down on me hard and it’s all I can do to hold on to her hips.”
She swallowed hard as she imagined the woman riding him. Problem was the blonde wasn’t a blonde, but a redhead who looked suspiciously like her.
Heath adjusted his pants under the table without bothering to hide his arousal. If there was one thing she had gotten used to in seven years of living with these men, it was that they were always functioning at half-mast. Shit, a strong breeze could arouse her roommates—she never ceased to be amazed by their intense sexuality. Over the years, she’d watched the revolving door of women who passed in and out of their lives and she’d heard enough moaning and banging headboards through the walls to last her a lifetime.
She consoled herself with the thought that through it all, she was the one constant woman in Colt and Heath’s lives. Through college graduation and first jobs, broken hearts and promotions, she was the steady one, the reliable one, their buddy with boobs.
“That was hot, Colt, but not as hot as mine.” Heath poured another round of shots.
“So hit us with your best shot.” Colt picked up his tequila, clearly enjoying his pun and ready to continue with the drinking part of the celebration.
Heath drank his tequila shot and leaned forward. “In my fantasy, I’ve got this smokin’ hot babe spread across my lap and I’m spanking her full, firm ass. It’s flushed red with my handprint and she’s moving into my smacks while her arousal is dripping down her legs. She’s begging me for more and I’m giving it to her. Then she starts pleading for my hard cock. When I think she’s been punished enough, I push her down to the floor and tell her get on her hands and knees. Then I fuck her from behind, hard and fast. She’s so hot she’s burning the flesh off me, but I don’t care. I keep pounding into her tight cunt, while she’s crying and screaming for more.”
She sat motionless after his fantasy for several moments before she realized her mouth was gaping and she closed it.
Colt shook his head in obvious disgust. “That’s the problem with you, Heath. No foreplay. That was the worst description of a fantasy I’ve ever heard. You don’t build the scene or give good descriptions. You just go straight to the climax, so to speak.” When he finished chuckling about his second pun, he pushed her shot glass closer to her. “So what about you, little darlin’?”
Taking a deep breath, she licked the salt, swallowed the burning alcohol and skipped the lime. Before she could think about it, she heard her unspoken dream falling out of her mouth.
“In my ultimate sex fantasy, two guys are taking me the way you both described…at the same time.”
Today marks the re-release of my very first published book, Erotic Research. The original release on this book was wayyyyyy back in 2008. I’m delighted that it is available once again with a bright, sparkly new cover. Ross and Julia hold a very special place in my heart. Also included in this new edition is the companion holiday short story, In the Running. Just in time to get in you in the holiday spirit!
It was just a little innocent research.
Romance writer Julia Martin is fine with her life, just the way it is. Her simple apartment, successful career and Thursday night pizza dates with her too-hot-for-words editor Ross are more than enough for her. At least that’s what she thinks until her cat dies.
Ross Philips has spent years lusting after his shy best friend, but fears his rather strong sexual desires will be too much for Julia. When she falls into a depression and stops writing, Ross decides she needs a change.
His suggestion? A new genre—erotica. And, of course, being such a good friend and editor, he plans to help her do some research.
Includes a bonus free story, In the Running.
What happens when the man of your dreams is also the chief of state? Noelle falls head over heels for Tom after they meet online. When they decide to meet in person for the first time over Christmas, Noelle gets a hell of a lot more than she bargained for from Santa!
A loud knock at the door had her jumping up. Suddenly feeling very isolated and unprotected, she scanned the room for some sort of weapon. Spying a big log in her pile of firewood, she grabbed it, cowering in the corner. The pounding on the door continued, louder this time, and Julia’s heart began to race. Who the hell would be on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere on a day like this? It was a virtual whiteout outside.
“Jules, open the damn door. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
Ross? She sighed in relief, rushing to unlock the door, and there in the doorway stood her very tall, very wet editor.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, aware her tone was distinctly unfriendly, but he had scared her half to death.
Eyes narrowed, Ross entered the cabin, his arms laden with packages, a large duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, a backpack over the other. “I tried to call, but the phone lines are down,” he answered gruffly.
“My cell?” she asked sarcastically.
“No service up here,” he replied with equal irritation.
“Is something wrong?” She couldn’t imagine what could be so bad it would compel Ross to leave the comfort of his penthouse apartment in New York City to drive for nine hours to the mountains.
“Blizzard.” He unloaded his bags on the kitchen counter. “Headed this way. I was worried you’d be snowed in without enough food.”
Secretly pleased at his incredibly sweet gesture, Julia smiled and helped him unload the soggy paper bags. “You’ve brought enough food for an army.” She gaped at all the meat, vegetables, fruit and snacks he carried in. “I hope you don’t think I need all this to survive. Hey, I didn’t hear a car. How did you get here?”
“By the grace of God and my four-wheel drive. I almost made it all the way to the cabin. The snow is already pretty deep. I got stuck about a mile down the road. Had to walk the rest of the way. Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.” Pulling off his drenched coat, he hung it on the peg by the door.
“My God,” she exclaimed, glancing out the frosted window, “it’s freezing out there and the visibility must be zero. You’re lucky to have made it at all. What the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed.” She put her hands on her hips, suddenly aware of the very real danger he’d just escaped.
“What was I thinking?”
“Yes. Good Lord, Ross, of all the idiotic things to do. What if you’d crashed the car? What if you’d gotten lost in the snow while looking for the cabin? You could have frozen to death.”
Ross shook his head. Clearly, of all the receptions he’d imagined, this nagging scold was not one he’d considered. “I guess, like the idiotic fool I am, I thought you’d be glad to see me. That you’d offer me a warm drink and some supper. I thought you’d be happy not to be stuck up here in this godforsaken cabin alone in a blizzard!”
Biting her lip, she said softly, “Well, I am. Happy, that is. I was feeling rather trapped—and alone.”
As quickly as his anger came, it left him. Smiling, he admitted, “It was a damn stupid thing to do. Unfortunately that fact didn’t occur to me until I was about halfway up the mountain and I realized it was too late to turn around.”
“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” she said, suddenly very pleased to have him with her. “I’ll put some water on for tea.”
“Don’t bother with the tea. I brought a bottle of Southern Comfort.” His hands shaking, he attempted, with little success, to tackle the buttons on his soggy flannel shirt. “We are in the South, after all.”
“I’m not sure West Virginia classifies as the South. It’s really sort of the middle. Here, let me.” Pulling his trembling hands away, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off. His skin was like ice to the touch. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia or frostbite,” she said, unable to resist one more scold. “Come stand by the fire.” Taking his icy hands in hers, she rubbed them lightly. “I’ll get a blanket for you. Stay here and try to get warm.”
Crossing the room, she retrieved a fleece blanket from the foot of the bed as Ross struggled with the button fly on his damp jeans.
“I’ll do that,” she said, concerned for his health. His hands were still trembling and looked blood red and chapped. No doubt he’d lied about how long he’d really been roaming around in the snow and wind.
“Jules,” he started to object, but she was already working the buttons free, concern distracting her from exactly what she was offering to do. When she had the last button unclasped, she grabbed the waistband and started to pull the clinging denim off his legs. The task was harder than she would have thought, but sheer determination and worry kept her going. She struggled for several minutes, working the material down his muscular legs, stopping only to pull off his boots and socks, before finally peeling the jeans completely off.
“There,” she exclaimed, looking up into Ross’s suddenly pained face. Her mouth went dry as she realized that during her exertions she’d knelt in front of him and was now eye level with his barely clad cock straining through the material of his silk boxer shorts. This part of him certainly gave new meaning to the term “frozen stiff”.
“I—” she stumbled, unwilling to take her eyes off his very large appendage. She was sure she’d never seen anything quite so big and her curiosity outweighed her embarrassment.
“My God,” she whispered, awestruck as the monstrous cock seemed to grow even larger before her eyes. Without a thought, she reached up and nearly touched it before a growl above her and a strong hand on her wrist stopped her.
“Brown Eyes,” Ross said, his deep voice flowing over her like honey, “if you don’t move away from that this minute, I’ll keep you kneeling there the rest of the night.”