What happens when faaaaabulous Jules Gem—the LitLuv convention mouthpiece (bullhorn, bulldog . . . )—gets a crack at our favorite Carolina Bad Boys? Oh, and she seems to be hiding a few luscious secrets of her own. 
​
Read on for the final Stone, At Your Service bonus scene, and be sure to tune in tomorrow for a special Halloween preview of book #2, Love, In the Fast Lane. There might even be a giveaway on my Facebook page to coincide tomorrow. 

Stone was arrogant, cocky, and somewhat bashful. A deeeelicious combo. He’d intrigued me from the first moment I laid eyes on him at the LitLuv convention. During the Guys with Balls competition, I was at the end of my rope. Amateurs, the lot of those men. Even the professionals. Then there was Stone. He’d generated more than just my interest—not that I was interested in him like that. But for someone who claimed to be gay, there was something going on between him and our illustrious Miss Leelee Songchild.

I’d intended to find out what. I hadn’t had to wait all that long for Stone to be un-outted. No surprise there. But imagine my surprise when I discovered he lived in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, just a stone’s throw away from my beach rental on Isle of Palms. I absolutely had to follow up with him once the convention ended.

And I had an ulterior motive.

With my salon-streaked hair fluffed out and my Lancôme lipgloss in place, I pranced into Stone’s Auto Service for the second time that summer. Stone still owed me another favor, and I meant to collect. The men—his mechanics—fell over themselves to help me, then blinked in surprise when I explained Stone was expecting me.

The largest of the bunch—Gerald was his name—came forward with a broad smile. “Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”

“It’s Miss.” I coolly replied. I did so enjoy getting under the skin of these massive, rugged men.

A few masculine chuckles followed my clarification.

“Rightio, Miss Gem.” Gerald had flushed beneath his dark brown skin, but he continued to grin at me.

Mick stepped up beside him. “I’ll take her.”

Hmmm. I laid one hand on his strong chest when he approached me. “I believe Gerald will do just fine. What was your name again? Mike? Michael?”

“Mick.” He growled, his gorgeous spring green eyes flashing.

I knew damn well who he was. He knew I knew it, too. I also knew why he wanted to get me alone. And that just didn’t fit into my crafty plan for him . . . yet. I placed my arm in the crook of Gerald’s proffered elbow, and off I glided, away from a furious-looking Mick.
What fun he was going to be.

I’d dressed with every ounce of care for this precious meeting. On the way to Stone’s office, I perfected my slightly prima donna, slightly power hungry persona. The Jules who usually only came out to play at the romance writers convention I helped organize every spring.
Stone and Nicky Love were waiting for me in the hideous office with the stained blue carpet. The smell of car oil swilled in the air instead perfume or cologne. They looked absolutely petrified, sitting next to each other on the small, equally distasteful sofa.

I dismissed Gerald and closed the door as he retreated to the hallway. “Well.” I sauntered inside and arranged myself behind Stone’s meticulous desk. “This is going to be sooooo much fun.” I gave an excited quiver for my captive crowd.

The pair of them looked like they were going to be sick.

I pulled out a miniature recording device. Clicking it on, I thought about which question to ask first. What handsome men they were. Big men, fidgeting in fear, in front of me. Stone with his huge build and his bedroom eyes, Nicky Love with his fit body and fabulous hair. They had agreed to do this interview under duress, of course. But what Jules Gem wants, Jules Gem gets. And they were far too entertaining to pass up.

Fully centered in my Jules character, I aimed a slightly sharkish grin at them. “So, boys, would you ever consider putting on a little sex show for the ladies? I’m sure Leelee would just love to see that. And if not her, well, I certainly wouldn’t object.” To objectifying you. I laughed to myself.

“What?” Stone’s voice spiked. His eyebrows did, too.

I loved terrorizing him. He was six years older than me, yet I could get him to squirm in his seat like a naughty schoolboy. Hmmm.
“Absolutely not.” Nicky was appalled.

Excellent.

Whereas sexy Stone wore his heart on his sleeve and on his face, Nicky Love was a much harder read. Equally handsome, but much more adept at hiding his true feelings in any given situation. It would be fun to break through his delicious shell.

“I don’t see why you’re sooooo adamantly against it. You did kiss at the convention, in front of everyone. Clearly you have exhibitionist homosexual tendencies.”

I almost laughed out loud when Stone’s jaw dropped open. He slammed it shut. He gaped again. “But that was . . . that was . . .”

“Soooo hoooooot.” I gave them a shiver of delight, then watched them both shudder in distaste.

“I was going to say fucking weird.” Stone glared at me.

“Amen to that, bro.” Nicky’s very otherworldly violet eyes took on a hard cast.

“Oh, but I beg to differ.” Folding my hands on top of the desk, I leaned forward. “It was surely one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. And you know how we ladies like our male-male romance. Not even a little repeat?”

Stone peered at Nicky. Nicky stared back. I clapped my hands.

“Not a fucking chance.” Stone winked at me.

“Ditto.” Nicky eased slightly away from his friend.

I pouted. Then batted my eyelashes. They didn’t make a move toward one another. Maybe I should’ve brought my bullhorn with me. Stone could never refuse me when I used that.

The silence thickened until Nicky nervously laughed. “Besides he’s got Leelee and I’ve got my eye on someone.”

Bingo! Finally we were getting somewhere. I needed a little juicy gossip for my newest LitLuv magazine article. I pounced all over that.

“So the only reason you two won’t explore your gay fantasies is because you might otherwise be taken?”

“NO!” they shouted in unison.

Methinks the gents doth protest too much. But maybe there was another angle to play.

“Who is this lucky lady then?” I directed my question to Nicky.

“Not saying.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Bet I know.” His best bud jabbed him in the ribs.

“Wonderful, and . . .?” I asked.

Nicky punched Stone on the shoulder.

Stone frowned, rubbing the rippling muscle. “Can’t say.”

“Well then, Nicky, I have no other option than to think you’re lying. I think you really do wish there was something between you and Stone.” I interrogated the man who avoided my shrewd gaze. “Tell me what you felt when he kissed you. Was there a frisson of excitement? Had you two ever kissed before? Was there tongue action? Because it looked like—”

“Catarina Steele, okay?” he blurted. Horror showed on his face.

“Catarina Steele. Perfect.” I’d be looking her up soon.

“How does she do that?” Muttering to Stone, Nicky glanced at me.

“Voodoo.”

“Witchcraft.”

“Hexes.”

“Hey, at least she’s not one of our exes.” Nicky smirked.

“Word.” They fist bumped each other.

“Will you both be returning next year? Because I have serious plans in store for you, Stone, and you, Mr. Love, put the RAWR in Romance.” I dragged them away from their self-congratulations.

“Um,” Stone mumbled.

“Erm.” Nicky winced. He pulled the leather tie out of his wavy hair and raked his fingers through it. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Oh, is there a problem I should know about that would prevent your attendance?” This private man was just full of surprises.

“Problems? No. None at all.”

“Stalker fan chick on the crazy train,” Stone oh so helpfully supplied.

“Reaaallly? Goes by the name of . . .?” I asked.

“Nothing. Nobody. Forget it. And you”—he pointed at Stone—“shut it.”

Wonderful. I did so love unraveling a good mystery.

“Well, it’s been absolutely divine chatting with you two. I simply can’t wait until we catch up next time.” Clicking off my recording device, I pushed the chair back from the desk.

The men slumped in relief.

Poor boys.

“Oh! I nearly forgot. One last thing.” They jerked to attention. Purrrfect.“That man—Mick—who works here? He should still be out in one of the bays, yes?”

“What? Why do want to see him?” Stone had suspicion written all over his face.

“Oh, no reason. No reason at all.” I assumed an air of innocence. “He took care of my Jeep last time I came in. There’s something I want him to check out.” I smiled at Stone. “Besides, I am sooooo enjoying getting to know your mechanics. So manly, so delightfully gauche.”
“What the fuck does gauche mean?” he asked Nicky.

“I’ll explain it later,” Nicky muttered.

They both rose to their feet as I strode from behind the desk. “I can’t wait to see how this article pans out. Fans are waiting to hear more about you, you know? And we don’t just LitLuv it, we live it.”

“Yeah, right. Uh huh.” Stone shook my hand and opened the door.

And now for Mick. Not only was I the Perez Hilton of the romance conference circuit, I was also a journalist for the local Post and Courier. That’s why I’d recognized Mick the first time I came here. I knew him as Michael. Michael Cain. Yes, really. Of course that could be entirely fake, since he didn’t want his friends and fellow mechanics finding out about his moonlighting gig. My name certainly wasn’t Jules Gem, and I didn’t act like a bossy pit bull in girl’s clothing during my normal daily life. Well, not all the time.

I found him inside one of the sweltering bays. My gaze narrowed on him. In one word, he was hot. Two words? Smoking hot. Sexy as hell. He had too shaggy, shiny, dark auburn hair that fell in his eyes. His skin was so fair I wondered if he ever went to the beach. I’d like to see that, more than a Stone/Love do-over kiss. Mick’s lips were bright red, juicy-looking. Grease stains ran up his strong forearms and down one side of his slanting cheekbones. He wore the coveralls like a man accustomed to dirty work, draped at his waist, a white tank top underneath. An ornate, colorful tattoo peeked out from the cloth at the top of his chest. Then there were the two heavy bore, black plugs in his ears.

Absolutely utterly totally fuckable. Four words.

In his other job, he spiffed up nicely, usually showing up in clean khakis and button-down shirts. They didn’t do a damn thing to disguise the edgy beautiful man inside. I couldn’t decide which look I liked better. I might have to explore them both.

When he caught sight of me watching him, he loped over. “Juliana!”

Mmm, I loved the way he said my name. Or rather, hissed it.

Grabbing my wrist, he hauled me out back. The sun glinted off his hair, intensifying the deep red. He kept hold of my wrist and dragged me close. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

I brushed his full lower lip with the pad of my thumb then caressed the rough stubble on his jaw.

“Shit.” Mick expelled in a long breath. “That feels—”

The talking stopped when I pressed against him. His hard planes pushed against my softer curves. That time he groaned. That time, his hand left my wrist to tangle in my hair. The perfect mossy green of his irises darkened.

“I don’t want anyone to know.”

“I gathered.” I blew a gentle stream of air against the warm hollow of his throat.

One uneven exhale riffled the top of the artful blow-out my stylist took such pride in. “You are making me insane.”

I wriggled from his embrace. “I gathered.”

Mick, Michael Cain, etc., whoever, had a nice little secret he didn’t want to get out. We were on the same circuit for the Post and Courier. My burly, dirty, tasty mechanic was also a wedding photographer—and quite sought after, too. His sideline didn’t jive with his macho meathead reputation. My inner personality—the one no one saw—didn’t really go with the Jules Gem most people knew, either.
We had more than one thing in common, and so much chemistry the air blazed between us every time we met. Mick wouldn’t act on it, and I . . . I wasn’t often as ballsy as everyone thought.

“You’re going to owe me for keeping it under wraps, Mick.”

“Yeah?” He prowled to me, backing me against the wall, caging me with his arms. “And one day you’re gonna owe me because I’m gonna fuck you the way you want to be, Juliana. Hard and rough, then slow and hot, all night long. Just as soon as you drop this Jules Gem act and finally admit how much you want me.”

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STONE: Amazon
LOVE:Preorder now! Coming December 11, 2014.
​AmazonGoodreads

OH! What do we have here? Part Three in the outtakes/bonus material from Stone, At Your Service! This time, we’re getting Leelee’s POV of that very hot, very USTY gym scene with Josh. Let’s see sexy Mr. Stone through Leelee’s eyes…

A special Leelee POV of the gym scene from Chapter Four, Stone, At Your Service

 Just my luck, the first man to spark my sexual interest in months, and he was gay. Like Patrick.

I dragged my unruly hair into a tight ponytail as if trying to drag thoughts of Stone, and my ex, out of my head. In the past few months, I’d barely thought about Patrick. Maybe him ending our engagement had been a good thing. He hadn’t been the biggest supporter of my writing, always complaining it took time away from him. Of course it was just fine and dandy for him to stay up half the night playing whatever it was on his PlayStation, but when it came to my writing—the career I’ve been building for two years—well, to hear him tell, it was no more than a hobby. A waste of time that would never pay the bills.

Every time something major happened to me via my book, Patrick was suddenly overwhelmed by his consulting work. His business crises mysteriously coincided with my promotion deadlines, which meant he was unexpectedly at home, taking over more than his fair share of the home office when I needed peace and quiet to concentrate.

If it wasn’t a work crisis, it was me “doing God knows what on the computer” instead of connecting with him. I swear, he had PMS more often than I did. He even once said we needed to dialogue about our feelings.

Dialogue our feelings? Who said that stuff?

In fact, we hadn’t had all that much in common to begin with. Maybe I’d been complacent because, in retrospect, our relationship was boring. Patrick wasn’t even my type: physically—weedy—mentally—needy. I couldn’t remember getting all that turned on by him sexually, and most of my orgasms during the course of our relationship . . . well, let’s just say I was a do-it-yourself type of gal. I wanted a man who knew he was a man, who didn’t need to dialogue about his feelings, one who knew how to take action.

One who could get me off.

That certainly hadn’t been Patrick.

Stone, on the other hand . . .

The greenish-gray bedroom eyes. The body, his broad shoulders, his smile—just this side of naughty. The fedora hat—to quote Janice, swoon—thetat on his chest. I’d almost fallen over when he’d opened his door.

He’d stood there dripping wet in just a towel, one that certainly wasn’t big enough to cover all the essentials. And boy, oh boy, did he seem to have a lot of essentials. I’d never seen such a perfectly sculpted torso in real life. The sight of Stone almost naked made me breathless.

I couldn’t make him out. First he was gentlemanly, helping me sort out my overturned boxes and suitcases in the lobby. Then he was an asshole when I’d thanked him for seeing me to my room. Sometimes he was protective of me, so I felt safe with him. Other times I could swear there was something sexual in his unguarded stare.

Oh dear Lord, Leelee. Get a grip. One trip around the I’m gay block was plenty. I didn’t need a repeat performance with the enigmatic, very manly Stone. No, he is definitely not my type. Just like Patrick.

I finished changing my clothes. I tried to locate my iPhone. I swore I’d just tossed it . . . somewhere. Looking in dismay at the stacks of books and business cards and postcard flats, I gave up. I called my cell from the hotel room phone. When it rang, I searched through the mountains of clothes piled on the spare bed.

Now how the hell had it gotten there?

With the phone, my armband, and earbuds in hand, I headed to the hotel gym to avoid the dreaded lobby crowds and clear my head. Once I swung through the door, the sight that confronted me almost made me drop my bottle of water.

Stone. In the flesh. In the nearly bare, very sweaty, rippling, flexing flesh. Those hazel eyes took in my decidedly un-convention-like outfit. From the way he stared, I got the distinct impression he didn’t mind me in spandex instead of a dress and heels. And I certainly wasn’t complaining about his clothing, or lack thereof. All he wore was a pair of low-hanging nylon shorts.

“So, what brings you here?” He gave me one of his delicious smirks.

“The gym’s a great place to hide. I only started workin’ out when I began coming to these things. You know, me and crowds.” I rolled out my yoga mat and began stretching. I tried to avoid his gaze. He had me flustered already. I should’ve walked straight back out the door again. The man was walking, talking temptation. Or he would’ve been, if he were straight.

“Yeah, I’m hiding from those vicious writers too.” When he grinned he looked positively rakish, almost dangerous with his teeth flashing in the well-maintained, dark blond stubble.

Definitely a man. A man’s man all the way.

I appreciated him trying to put me at ease, but all he did was unsettle me, excite me, make me want something I could never have with him.

After nodding at me, he continued with his workout. I started to do my yoga warm-up. He moved around the room, doing one-arm pull-ups, sit ups, bench presses. My favorite was the squats.

The muscles in his thighs bulged. Stone’s shorts bulged in the middle. His shoulders bunched and his biceps swelled. His abs clenched and contracted. He looked up, and met my eyes. Instead of glancing away, his gaze openly meandered down my body, over the stretchy material of my sports top. His eyes lingered on my breasts and my breathing sped, not because of my strenuous yoga pose.

Stone replaced the barbell and turned to face me.

Oh my! I thought his shorts were going to fall off. They kept dipping lower on his pelvis as he mopped his face and chest with its soft-looking smattering of hair that thinned into a line and trailed all . . . the . . . way . . . down.

Down, where I figured out exactly what was keeping his shorts in place. That would be a very prominent . . . member. An erection. Good God, Leelee, you’ve got no problem writing cock and pussy and all manner of sexual terms. Call it what it is. His cock. Stone’s cock prevented his shorts from simply slipping off the twin grooves of muscle at his hips.

I gasped. My eyes flew up to be snagged by Stone’s. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I had the uncontrollable desire to giggle. I pressed my lips together and his sandy eyebrows arched.

My, my, my. Stone certainly was well endowed. Suddenly I felt perverse, openly ogling Nicky’s lover. But then he swiveled to the rear of the room, doing some adjustments to his front, and dear God, his butt. Yes, that was an ass that wouldn’t quit.

As he turned back to me, I saw what he’d been doing when he faced away. He’d arranged his tank top from his waistband so it hung over his . . . cock. He returned to those damnable squats and I completed a few more positions.

During this whole time we’d only exchanged our greetings. Apparently Stone did not need to dialogue shit out, which I appreciated, but I needed him to stop the squats before my eyes fell out of my head to join my tongue on the floor.

Or before he burst out of his shorts.

Approaching him, I asked, “Spot me?’

He brought the barbell down then stood to his full height in front of me. Well over six feet worth of stacked muscle and the heady scent of man teased me.

“What?” he asked.

“Could you spot me?” I motioned toward the bench press.

His slow perusal marked my body almost as thoroughly as his large hands could. “Sure.” His deep gruff voice sent shivers through me.
I calibrated the weights on the metal bar. He stood behind me, close enough his heat felt like a caress along my back and buttocks. When I lay down on the bench, I watched his throat bob. He licked his lips.

This might be my worst idea yet because Stone loomed above me, and I had a bird’s eye view up the length of his legs and abs and chest. His chin lowered to his chest as he carefully watched me. One corner of his firm-looking lips lifted. I trained my eyes on the ceiling, willing myself not to peek up the gaping leg of his shorts to find out if he really was hard as stone everywhere.

I didn’t like being this affected by him. I disliked being on uneven footing with him even more. I silently started my presses. The last time I’d seen him, I’d given him a copy of my novel. I decided to tease him about it.

“Did you get a chance to check out Ride?”

“Yeah, a little. Not bad.” He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck.

Oh really? We’d see about that. After another few reps, I motioned for him to take the weight from me. When he had it safely anchored above me, I sat up.

“Not bad?” I took a little swing at his ribs. His damp skin and unyielding flesh made my knuckles burn, but I didn’t wince.
He looked anywhere but at me. “The guy-girl thing doesn’t cut it for me, ya know?”

I really didn’t know. I wasn’t sure. Around Stone I was confused, amused, intrigued. He pissed me off. He turned me on.
Jesus, Leelee. He’s gay.

I knew it. I was going to die an old spinster cat lady surrounded by steamy romance books with no romance in my life whatsoever.
I was not going to fall for Nicky Love’s lover, dammit.
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STONE: Amazon
​LOVE:Preorder now! Coming December 11, 2014
.AmazonGoodreads

Hey, folks! Here’s the final On Her Watch outtake in honor of the new release. Huge thanks to Literati Book Reviews for first posting this sweet yet heartbreaking original scene from the Don’t Tell series.
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Once again, Commander Linc Cutler POV. Enjoy!

At the end of another day, I carefully placed my weapons in a case, keeping my Heck at my side. I shed my clothes and hit the shower. Alone in my apartment at the top of Beta Corps Command with hellfire raining down all around me, I took a rare moment to shut off my D-P with its nonstop incoming messages. I sat on the sofa and savored a neat whiskey from my black market stash, as I imagined my brother doing the same.

Long day, lots of deaths on both sides of the war. Spilled blood surrounded me and there was no one to share the burden with. Physical need took a back seat to a new longing for intimacy with one woman in particular. Lieutenant Liz Grant. I was sure she was the answer to this aching desire for something, someone in my life. I’d been alone for far too long. I was probably incapable of being the type of man a woman like Liz would willingly turn to for comfort.

Good soldiering? I could do that. I’d proven myself reliable in combat from the time I turned sixteen, but a spent weapon at the end of the day didn’t ease the gnawing hole where my heart should be. A hole that had begun early in my youth, when I’d been forced to choose one parent over the other.

My eyes sank closed as I remembered a slightly happier time—one that was almost worry free, except for when our father lost his temper with Momma.

************************************


 “Rise and shine, Nate.”

He grumbled, wiggling deeper under the covers. At seven and a half, my identical twin couldn’t be more different than me. He was always whistling. I was always frowning. Momma used to say my face would get stuck like that. Nate balanced me out though. He made me laugh, showed me how to have fun.

“C’mon. It’s switch day,” I said. Switch day was my attempt at doing something normal kids would do.

“It’s Wednesday,” he mumbled, his head buried beneath a pillow.

I snapped off his blankets and threw his pillow to the floor. “We’ve gotta fool them all. I’ll be you, and you’re me. Let’s see how long it takes ’em to figure it out.”

“Okay, okay already.” His hair was rumpled. His shorts hiked up on his thighs.

Even after Nate dressed in our precise Institute uniform, he managed to look lazy and uncaring with shirttails hanging down and his tie undone, one shoelace missing. I combed his hair back and off his face while raking mine forward to get just the right shaggy look. I unbuttoned the stiff collar of my shirt then went to work meticulously knotting his tie.

We were worlds apart, not just in appearances, but we never went to sleep without sharing our latest secrets. Nathaniel’s included fanciful ideas of a free future; mine were stamped by the Cutler family vision of maintenance and control. We were taught early on by Father to keep our personal hopes and dreams to a minimum, to focus on the Company we would one day run—he the politician, me the commander. Yet he continued to let his imagination run away with him.

We both held our breaths and sometimes still joined hands when Father raised his voice, and more often his fists, at Momma.

“I’ll make sure you’re safe.” I told him one evening after listening to Father rail at Momma over some misstep he accused her of committing because of her Nomad upbringing.

“Maybe I’ll come to your rescue one day.” Nathaniel had proudly puffed his skinny chest.

“I doubt it. Scrawny chicken.”

“You’re no bigger than me. Anyway”—his expression had turned serious—“we’ll save her, Linc.”

“Yeah.” But then who would protect us?

I shook off the memories that made us older and wiser than any kid should be. Satisfied Nate could pass as me, I pushed open the dining room door.

“Good morning, Lincoln and Nathaniel.” Momma placed a kiss on both our cheeks, totally taken in by our disguises. She never called us by our nicknames, Linc and Nate. Her hair toppled at a dangerous angle on her head in a strawberry-colored haze she never bothered to control.

Father walked into the dining room as soon as the expensive smell of coffee hit the air. We were one of the lucky families since Father had a highly prestigious job with the Company. Rare foods and hard-to-buy items graced our table at every meal.

Momma stiffened first. Her hand grazed her neck where new fingerprint marks marred her skin in pink half-moons. “Breakfast is coming, boys.”

“They’re not boys, Eden, they’re growing men.”

“We should let them have a childhood before they’re put to work for the Company, Sandy.”

Sandy. Lysander Cutler. The up-and-comer.

I shrank beside Nate. Her words would cost her later. A pound of flesh, Father always took it out on her.

Over breakfast, talk was sent back and forth, but there was always the fear something would trigger Father’s temper. Anything could do it: the mention of new rebellion in Alpha Territory, or eggs that weren’t perfectly poached.

Half an hour later, I inhaled deeply when the front door shut behind Father.

“Go on now, to school with you two.” Momma soaked us in her love with kisses and hugs. “I think I found a way to get ice cream for dessert tonight so long as you two stay out of trouble.”

The day droned on at the Institute. Lessons in the Purge, the Plague, good citizenship and Old History bored me to the bone. Worse, I had to be Nate, friendly, popular Nate.

At least our teachers were hoodwinked. We raced each other home, laughing over our triumph. The laughter ended as soon as we walked inside. Duty had called Father to another Territory for two weeks. He’d left that afternoon, but he made sure we’d remember him in his absence. The usually orderly apartment was turned upside down, and Momma rose from her knees by the bookshelf. She always started with Grandfather Rice’s precious books after the rages. No one ever destroyed bound books, they were too rare, but Father relished knocking to the floor that tie to her landowner heritage. She bore a reminder too, a fresh bruise on her face.

No words were said. Later after we finished our homework and repaired Father’s damage to the house, Momma ushered us into the kitchen, ignoring the staged, formal dining room.

“Dessert first.” When she winked, her eyes sparkled. The small table was set with heaping bowls of cold chocolate deliciousness. “Ice cream, as promised for my fine young boys.”

“I love you, Momma.” Nate slipped his arms around her.

I embraced her on the other side. “Me too.”

We didn’t talk about her getting out.

We couldn’t.

The apartment was bugged.

Momma watched us devour the sweet, cold treat spoon-by-spoon. She mussed our hair. “You know, you didn’t fool me this time.”
“Aw, Ma!” I groaned.

Nate ripped off his tie. “Thank god.”

She laughed, hugging us against her. “Promise me you’ll always take care of each other.”

“Yes’m.” We both agreed.

I hadn’t. I hadn’t looked out for my mom or my brother. I remembered the day I’d earned my stars and he’d been barred from the family. It was years after Momma escaped, when we were supposed to think she was dead. Nathaniel stared past me, through me. From that point on, our ties were cut clean through.

Now, two Territories and a Revolution separated me from him. And I had no idea how to repair all the damage I’d done.
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DON’T TELL SERIES:
In His Command, #1 In the dystopian future, two men discover attraction isn’t just dangerous. It’s deadly.
Amazon B&N iTunes

On Her Watch, #2 War is raging in the InterNations Territories, and within Lieutenant Liz Grant’s heart.
Amazon B&N iTunes

In His Sights, standalone novella Can two enemies overcome the battles within and the war without to find love? Or will the Revolution destroy their chance at happiness?
​
Amazon
Coming in 2015, the series finale: Under His Guard
Don’t miss the brand new short–’Blondie’ POV–In His Heart here on mywebsite or at my Facebook page.

This Don’t Tell series outtake first appeared on Lily Element. Many thanks for hosting me and my dubious crew  The interview takes place during the time between In His Command and the opening of On Her Watch.
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The interviewees walked into the room after checking their various guns, knives, and other hardware at the security point. Under breath complaining could be heard as Caspar Cannon held out a chair first for his husband, Nathaniel, then for his former second-in-charge, Lieutenant Liz Grant. The trio settled at the table, wearing varied combinations of black leather and tough camouflage.
They made an interesting group—three of the most wanted rebels by the InterNations government. Cannon the tall, muscled military man had short dark hair and an intense expression. His caramel brown eyes and swarthy looks were almost identical to Liz Grant’s although they weren’t related. She stood tall, slim, strong with razor sharp black locks—what one would call a pixie cut, but never to her face. In direct contrast to his lover and his new friend, Nathaniel—ex head of Technical Acquisitions for the Company but a Freelander through and through—boasted an ultra modern long stripe of golden blond hair that when pulled back revealed the shaved sides of his head. His stubble was shaved neatly, his blues eyes sparkled, and his easy grin was as infectious as I later found his drawl to be.
He and Caspar made a striking couple.
Cannon brushed a hand down the back of his neck. “So, are we ready to roll here or what?”
“Yeah. It’s not like there’s a Revolution to fight or anything.” Liz popped her knuckles and propped her boots on the table.
“Of course. So tell me, Commander Cannon, what’s your favorite color?”
With a gentle stroke of his fingertips along Blondie’s (aka Nathaniel’s) cheek, he smiled, “Blue.”
In return to his lover’s caress, Nathaniel cheeks colored and the azure blue eyes Cannon noted lowered in seeming pleasure.
Sitting on the other side of her former Commander, Liz smirked. “Blue balls, maybe.”
“Not anymore.” He shot back. Then he chuckled. “You’re the only one with a bad case of blue balls.”
“Just because I don’t have my own Fuck Bunny…” As she pushed her boot-shod feet off the table, she drummed short fingernails on the arms of her chair. “But I’m glad you finally admit I’ve got the balls to back up my mouth.”
“More balls than brains. And I sure as hell hope so since you’re going up against Linc Cutler alone.” Cannon’s already deep voice had lowered to a dangerous tone.
“Maybe it’s time for another question?” The Freelander with the longish blond hair pointed out from his side of the bickering pair.
“Sure thing. Underwear or commando, Nathaniel?”
While Nathaniel flushed beneath the short golden stubble on his cheeks, Liz cackled with glee. “I know. I know! Nathaniel goes Commander.”
“Damn straight.”
“Y’all think I could get a word in edgewise?” Blondie interjected.
“Nope,” came his companion’s twin responses.
“Kill me now, please.” Nathaniel’s mock frown was completely unconvincing. “And if I can’t go Commander, I prefer to go commando.”
Cannon’s licked his lips, staring at his husband.
“So, what is your twin brother, Commander Lincoln Cutler, like?”
Tugging at the double helix ring in his ear, Nathaniel frowned. “Ruthless. Single-minded. Ambitious.” He glanced sideways at Liz. “Uh…but don’t let that worry you.”
Cannon sat back to rub both hands over his face. “Greeeat.”
Turning slightly paler, Liz pursed her lips, then blew out a long breath. “Yeah. No sweat, like I said.”
“How do you feel about your upcoming engagement in Beta Territory, Lieutenant Grant?”
“First of all, it’s not an engagement of any kind. It’s a mission. And dammit, how come you give them the easy questions like whether they hang to the left or right but you want to get all interpersonal with me?” The eye-catching woman fingered her empty holsters in an agitated manner.
“We all think you’re an extraordinary woman, Liz–”
“Extraordinary pain in the ass.” Cannon blustered.
Liz reached out and punched his shoulder.
“And people want to know more about you.”
“I think she just called us boring, Big Man.” Nathaniel sought to ease the tension in the room.
“Would you care to answer the question?”
Liz gritted her teeth. “How about no?” She knocked her head back before piercing me with an unforgettably haunting stare. “Fine. I’m going because I can do more good in Beta than anywhere else and I need to know what the hell really happened to my dad. I don’t buy the bullshit Nomads killed him spin anymore. If I have to bend over backwards to get on Linc Cutler’s good side I’ll do it. But I am not going to end up in the cutthroat Commander’s bed.”
“Those are pretty vehement words.”
“There’s plenty more where those came from.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “PS. I wear cotton panties instead of thongs because I prefer to use floss on my teeth instead of in my ass, thank you very much.”
After blanching through her tirade, both Cannon and Nathaniel laughed along with her, highlighting their easy camaraderie.
“Here’s one for everyone: what book are you reading now?”
Cannon popped up. “The Art of War. I found it in the Chitamauga library. I’m trying to source out new strategies. Or old, forgotten ones from Old History, I guess.”
“How did you end up with such a romantic, Nate?” Liz asked.
“Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it,” he returned.
“Tried him? No thanks.”
“Gross.” Cannon’s nose wrinkled.
“I’m readin’ Don Quixote,” Nathaniel drawled.
“You and your windmills.” His husband linked their fingers together.
“They’re Hatch’s windmills not mine. And that’s not what the book is about.”
“What about you, Lieutenant?”
“The History of Modern Art,” she answered.
Cannon blinked at her. “The history of huh?”
She flicked him on the forehead. “Shut it. Both our books have art in them. And don’t be such a Neandrethal. For fuck’s sake, Nate, what do you see in him?”
“I can answer that one.” The brown haired man lay one large hand in his lap with a suggestive grin.
“I’m not just after your cock.”
“Well it can’t be his smarts,” Liz quipped.
“I’ll have you know I’m very smart, thank you very fucking much.” Kissing the side of Nathaniel’s neck, Cannon murmured, “And you’ll be sucking those words later, Blondie.”
The two men gazed at each other with electricity racing between them.
Liz huffed. “Are we done?” Her chair scraped back and she gained her feet with feline grace.
“Well, not really. I still have ten other questions to–”
“So we’re done.” Cannon stood too, brooking no argument.
As they filed out, Nathaniel hung back to shake my hand with polite words of goodbye.
“C’mon babe. I got a new weapon to demonstrate for you.”
“Oh god. You’re talking about your cannon again, aren’t you?” Liz rolled her eyes.
Caspar stopped to wink at her and grabbed his man’s hand.
Nodding a hasty goodbye, Nathaniel loped after Cannon with a lusty smile.
 I watched through the open door as the trio collected their weapons and systematically checked their ammo. They left quickly and quietly becoming mirages melting with the crowd beyond the building.
One thing was certain. The InterNations Territories would never be the same. Now they just had to win the Revolution.
 
Comments can be directed to either Cannon, Nathaniel, Liz or the sometimes keeper of these characters—Rie Warren—in comments.  
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DON’T TELL SERIES:
In His Command, #1
In the dystopian future, two men discover attraction isn’t just dangerous. It’s deadly.
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On Her Watch, #2
War is raging in the InterNations Territories, and within Lieutenant Liz Grant’s heart.
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In His Sights, standalone novella
Can two enemies overcome the battles within and the war without to find love? Or will the Revolution destroy their chance at happiness?
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Coming in 2015, the series finale: Under His Guard
I will be posting the rest of the outtakes from On Her Watch soon, and of course you can still read the brand new short–‘Blondie’ POV–In His Hearthere on my website or at my Facebook page.
I hope all you Americans had a fabulous, fun, and save 4th! Remember to leave a comment, and like, share, love!

Okay, if you follow me on FB or Twitter, y’all already know this.However, some do not.
​ Therefore…I want to share the new outtakes for the new release of On Her Watch!

​We have sexy, sweet, funny, and heartfelt. We have ***LINC CUTLER POV***

Good soldiering? I could do that. I’d proven myself reliable in combat from the time I turned sixteen,

​but a spent weapon at the end of the day didn’t ease the gnawing hole where my heart should be.
​
A hole that had begun early in my youth, when I’d been forced to choose one parent over the other.

My eyes sank closed as I remembered a slightly happier time—one

that was almost worry free, except for when our father lost his temper with Momma.

​Aren’t you dying to read Linc’s thoughts on Liz? WOOF. And *welp*
http://romancingrakes4theluvofromance.blogspot.com/2014/06/forever-romance-blog-tour-excerpt-from.html

“Of course. So tell me, Commander Cannon, what’s your favorite color?”

With a gentle stroke of his fingertips along Blondie’s (aka Nathaniel’s) cheek, he smiled, “Blue.”

In response to his lover’s caress, Nathaniel cheeks reddened, and the azure blue eyes Cannon noted lowered in seeming pleasure.
Sitting on the other side of her former Commander, Liz smirked. “Blue balls, maybe.”

“Not anymore.” He shot back. Then he chuckled. “You’re the only one with a bad case of blue balls.”

“Just because I don’t have my own Fuck Bunny…” As she pulled her booted feet off the table, she drummed short fingernails on the arms of her chair.

​“But I’m glad you finally admit I’ve got the balls to back up my boasts.”

Click the links to see all the goods!
On Her Watch reviews that make my heart sing:

Literati Book Reviews–ON HER WATCH “In her latest installment of the Don’t Tell series, we get more explosions and more explosive sex. More angst, drama, and feel goods that I’ve come to associate with Warren’s post-apocalyptic world… The drama is intense, the sex is hot, and the talk is dirty. Well done, Rie Warren. Well done. I can’t wait to read what happens next when the saga continues.” -4.5 Stars

Smitten With Reading–ON HER WATCH “Liz and Linc’s chemistry is sizzling and this book definitely lives up to its erotic rating…It’s an interesting world and it will be interesting where things go from here. Things definitely change at the end of this book, but the war is far from over and I definitely look forward to more.” -B+

Butterfly-o-Meter Books–ON HER WATCH “If you’re into hot romance between kickass soldiers, diversity, struggles for freedom and delish antihero flavored heroes who end up winning you over irrevocably, do give this a read.”

Sexy Erotic Xciting–ON HER WATCH “On Her Watch left me breathless, emotional and intrigued. I adore this series and although dystopian is usually not my genre, Rie Warren sucked me in with her superb sense of style and characterization. Damn- this reader now has a new favorite series!” -5 Handcuff Review

Available in ebook and paperback

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Shine on, my friends! Share, like, love and comment. xoxo until next time~