Breathless Press Releases – Erotic Romance #2
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About
Breathless Press:
Breathless
Press is an e-book publisher specializing in Romance and Erotic(a) stories.
Our
mission statement is simple: To provide the opportunity for readers to connect
with romance authors through the purchasing of quality e-books at a low price.
Starting
in the summer of 2009, Breathless Press came into existence. Since then, we
have been producing top end romance and erotic stories for valued readers to
enjoy.
Our
Goal?
Breathless
Press is an electronic publisher of paranormal, erotic, and mainstream romance,
releasing one to three e-books a week in a variety of downloadable formats. It
is Breathless Press' mission to provide readers with quality romance books in
electronic formats and to raise the standard in e-publishing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The
Captain's Christmas by Leona Bushman
Buy Link
Blurb
.jpg)
While on a rescue mission, Faraway must save her ship from
pirates before they destroy her Christmas.
Captain Faraway Hastings sets off on what she thinks is a
regular rescue mission, even if it did have the bad timing to be on Christmas.
Disparate reports from the medical officer and captain of the downed ship cause
her to look more closely at the situation.
Ethan Roarke, lieutenant commander and chief medical
officer, is frustrated with the time it's taking for help to come. When he
learns that his captain has neglected to inform their rescuers of the dire
straits his people are in, he's angry and concerned. But worse, his loyalties
are now torn between his captain who lied and the one trying to save them.
When Fara and Ethan meet, the attraction is immediate and
strong despite the circumstances. Can Fara and Ethan discover the pirates
hidden amongst them before they kill everyone on the ship? Or are they doomed
to miss out on their chance of a Merry Christmas?
Excerpt
"I assure you, my people can count. And the tally with
the last group waiting below is," she pushed some buttons on her wrist
unit. "Seven hundred twenty eight men, women, and children. Would you like
the breakdown?"
"I'm telling you. I have a complete list of our
manifest here, and there are less than six hundred people, sir."
They stared at each other. "Well," she said after
a beat of silence. "It seems we have ourselves some stowaways.
Possibly—likely—dangerous ones."
"The other ship. I didn't think about it, but there
were two main directions that the largest groups came from. That means,"
he stopped and looked to see if she'd had the same thought.
"That means, Lieutenant Commander Medical Officer Ethan
Roarke, that as I'd suspected before landing my first shuttle there, the enemy
is amongst us."
"Why would they do that? Why would my captain not tell
me or you?"
"You know him better than I, but my take is he's trying
to protect us. That, in his opinion, telling us would put us in more danger
than not knowing. I happen to disagree. Knowledge is power in my
experience."
"And mine," he replied. "It's not like him to
withhold this type of information from me. He'd normally want me to be apprised
so I can adequately prepare my medical team for the right kind of injuries.
Have you asked the first officer?"
"No. I will do so once everyone's on board."
"He's in sickbay from injuries during the walk."
"Thank you for the information. In the meantime, keep
your eyes and ears open. It goes without saying that I don't like having an
enemy on my ship."
"Any more than I like that my captain may be
responsible for allowing it to happen." Somehow, during the last part of
their conversation, their voices had become quieter, as if they were afraid of
being overheard. He'd placed himself so they were practically touching by the
last word. When she said ship, a puff of air had landed on his lips. Their
closeness made the tone of his response sound intimate as he dropped his volume
in reaction to her closeness.
"I don't like hotheaded medics," she whispered.
"And I don't like pushy, bossy captains," he
replied just as softly.
"Then you're going to hate me," she said and
kissed him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A
Christmas Match Made In Heaven by Brianna Lorin
Buy Link
Blurb
A Christmas Match Made in Heaven is a tale that unites two
lonely souls while reuniting two departed ones just in time for the holidays.
On the day after Thanksgiving, Carroll Moore is presented
with three items that once belonged to her beloved, now deceased Aunt Maggie —
a woman's ring, a diamond pendent, and a man's college ring. The accompanying
letter reveals the items' history, and while the woman's ring and diamond
pendant are Carroll's to keep, she is asked to return the man's college ring to
a very special young man. What follows is a romantic tale that unites two
lonely souls while reuniting two departed ones just in time for the holidays.
Excerpt
With candles lit, lights off, and bath salts sprinkled, I
sank into the dreamy warm water, relaxing every inch and crevice of my body.
There was a workload from hell awaiting me at the office. The next few weeks
would be crazy with one closing after another with sellers wanting to move
south, out of the cold, snowy mountains, and buyers wanting to make money on
their new establishments. All of this had to be done, of course, before winter
arrived or in time for ski season and Valentines' Day.
While drifting into that half-asleep, half-awake mode of
twilight, completely relaxed in the warmth of the tub, I began to hear a woman
sobbing. At first her sobs were soft, and between sobs, she was speaking in a
faint voice.
"Please don't leave me. Hang on. Please don't leave
me."
I began to feel the ache in my chest again; it was dull and
throbbing, and as the sobs grew louder, the pain grew stronger.
"Help me," she whimpered.
I became immobilized and started shivering. The bathroom was
filled with a chill, and the flames on the candles went out. I looked around
the bathroom, only seeing shadows of the trees outside blowing in the wind. The
street light was thankfully shining through the window. It was then that I felt
Aunt Maggie; her voice was low and barely audible. "You have to help me
get back to Ron, Carroll. He's waiting for me somewhere. I can't find him in
this black abyss, this very strange quagmire I'm trapped in."
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Somewhere between here and there."
"I don't understand what you want me to do?" I
asked, looking around in the darkness, searching for a hint of her. My teeth
were chattering.
"He proposed on Christmas Eve, thirty-five years ago.
The ring was hidden inside one of those small jewelry box ornaments on his
family's tree. Ron gave it to me after I opened all the other presents he had
for me. He so loved to spoil me.
"When he handed me the box, he got down on one knee. I
covered my face and cried. I loved him so much, Carroll, and couldn't wait to
be his wife. Later that night, when we were lying in each other's arms, he told
me about the other present he had for me. We were to spend New Year's Eve at
the Statler Hilton in Manhattan. Don't think poorly of me, Carroll."
"Why would I, my god, Aunt Maggie, you loved the man
and you were going to marry him. Do you honestly think Mike and I waited 'til
our honeymoon?" There he was again, my ex, creeping into my memory in one
form or another, and why the hell was I talking to what, a ghost?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Baby,
You're Cold Inside by Ivy Bateman
Buy Link
Blurb
Lily
Sinclair isn't in the Christmas spirit.
Successful,
sexy and headstrong; being nice is too overrated when being naughty is so much
more fun. However, there are those who believe that her cool interior stands in
her way of true happiness. On the night when something a little bit colder than
Lily takes her on a journey to her past, she goes along for the ride, but...
Will her
guide show her just what it will take to melt her icy soul?
Excerpt
"Why'd
you bring me here?" I gesture to the circle of trees.
"So you
assume that I arranged this?"
"Well,
I don't see any other magic, frost people around," I say, trying to keep
my sarcastic tone in check.
"Well,
yes...it was me, but why aren't you more shocked? A lot of people freak out
when this kind of thing happens to them! I thought for sure that even you would
be impressed to be taken back to a point in your past. But no, you're just as
full of attitude watching your past as you are in the present! The guys and I
really thought we'd be able to break your hostile exterior." He genuinely
seems hurt, but it doesn't faze me.
"The
guys? What guys?" I put my hands on my hips and face him.
"Yes,
the guys, well and some girls, my co-workers, we who work for St. Jude."
"St. Jude."
"Yes,"
he says, his voice filled with pride
"The
saint for hopeless cases?"
"Exactly."
Our banter
is interrupted by a loud groan. We look over at Cory the rutting wonder and
past Lily. I can tell Phillip assumes the noise came fromCory, but I remember
it was me, expressing my sour mood. This guy had one move; put it in, pull it
out and repeat. It got old fast.
I shake my
head and look back at Phillip. "They can't see us, right?"
"No,
they can't see us, or hear us, or anything like that. So getting back to St.
Jude..."
"Yes,
ok...you work for the saint of hopeless causes, Phillip. I got that. So why are
you here? Oh wait!" I put my hand up to stop him from talking. "You
and the guys think I am a hopeless case or cause or whatever! That's a riot!
Are you here to help me?"
Frozen
Phillip momentarily transitions into assistant Phillip. He looks down at his
feet and scrunches his face. He appears embarrassed. I laugh loudly.
"You
are! That's insane! I don't need any help!"
"Well,
Lily, we disagree," he starts speaking very slowly, as if he was talking
to a child. "We've been watching you for quite a few years. Your attitude
toward your fellow man has been a bit...off kilter for more than a little while
and we think it's time to intervene. Most people who are not very nice
eventually have an epiphany, a sort of a wakeup call and change their ways, but
not you. You seem to thrive on making people miserable, but in the end it's not
going to help you." Phillip stops and looks into my eyes. He's probably
trying to see if this is moving me at all. I stare blankly back at him,
crossing my arms under my breasts.
"And?"
I snap at him.
Phillip
swallows before he continues. "And every Christmas season, because at this
time of the year people are often at their kindest, we are all given a
'hopeless case,' a person to turn around. This year I was given you as my
project. I've been sent by the powers that be to help you find your kinder
side. We think that somewhere under your cold exterior lies a warm heart, a
gentler person and we'd like to bring that out in you."
I howl with
laughter. "Wow, Phillip, do I feel sorry for you! How'd you get stuck with
me? Did you draw the short straw?" I'm laughing so hard I'm in tears, but
I stop soon after. The snow suit is too tight for a lot of mirth.
"Lily,
I'm quite serious."
"Oh I
believe you, my dear. Don't worry. The icy get up, the trip to the past, it's
all very dramatic, but come on,Phillip! Why on earth do you and your guys care
about one bitchy woman? Besides, I don't think I'm a hopeless case. I think I'm
fabulous. You're wasting your time. Aren't there people who have seriously
hopeless cases that you could be working on?"
He smiles
brightly. "See right there! The fact that you can think of people other
than yourself, that you can imagine there are suffering people who need help
shows that you have a bit of warmth in your soul."
I scoff at
him. "No it doesn't. Phillip, I think most people are hopeless. If you
helped people based on what I think, you'd never stop working. The only person
I care about is me."I pat his frozen cheek and walk over to watch the
action in the center of the trees.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas
Is Cancelled by Aurelia B Rowl
Buy Link
Blurb
Could Tilly's day get any worse? Even Christmas had been
cancelled! Will Dean succumb to temptation as he endeavors to make Christmas
better for both of them?
Matilda 'Tilly' Carter didn't think her day could get any
worse, but even Christmas had just been cancelled.
The one girl Dean Watson has sworn never to have—never even
expected to see again—just flared back into his life and into his home—his
sanctuary—like she belonged there. Christmas would certainly be more bearable
with Tilly around though...
As the chinks in Dean's armor appear, Tilly seizes the
chance to win her knight once and for all. She's not about to take no for
answer—not this time—but Dean must resist, even as his heart rebels and
temptation threatens to undermine his resolve.
Win or lose? Love or honor? Which will Dean choose? Assuming
he gets a choice...
Excerpt
Tears welled in her eyes, clouding her vision. She turned
and wandered blindly toward the exit as the first tear escaped, forging a track
down her cheek for the rest to follow. Tilly took in a lungful of air and then
another. Having made a spectacle of herself once already, she really didn't
want to be the cause of yet another scene.
The crowds swarmed around her, with students and family
members heading home for the holidays only adding to the usual rush-hour melee
of commuters. They jostled past, threatening to swallow her whole, as they
rushed en mass in the opposite direction, using their briefcases and suitcases
as a battering ram.
It was suffocating. She had to get out of there. Breaking
into a run, broken heel or not, she raced through the doors and out into the
biting December chill. Her waterlogged eyes struggled to adjust to the dark,
dreary sky after the bright station lights, but she didn't dare slow down,
desperate to escape the throng of festivities and merriment.
Carol singers assembled outside burst into a jovial
rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," full of joy and
happiness. Didn't they know Christmas had just been cancelled?
"Ooof!" Tilly smacked her shin against the edge of
a low bench, too dark to see as she tried to dodge the growing audience. She
ended up sprawled across the bench, dropping the handle of her suitcase with a
loud clatter.
At least the pain shooting down her leg gave her an excuse
to be crying. Unfortunately, it meant she had to stop running too. Not good.
Whenever things got too tough, too intimate, or too confrontational, you could
rely on her to make a run for it. Running away was what she did best...
A tall figure loomed in the edge of her vision, something
vaguely familiar about the man's loping gait. In an effort to see him more
clearly, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, then cringed inwardly
at the black streaks now etched all over them. Great. She could add
impersonating a panda to her day from hell as well then.
The mascara stung her eyes, rendering her unable to focus
properly. She blinked furiously as the man strode past her, talking into a
mobile phone in a deep voice that resonated throughout her body and made the
fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A surge of adrenaline rushed
to her legs, numbing the pain as her subconscious told her to run. Now!
The cloaked figure stopped mid-stride as if he'd heard her
gasp. "Mike, I've gotta go," he barked into the phone, hanging up
instantly. He backtracked until he was standing right in front of her, his tone
changing from a growl to one of surprise. "Basmati?"
Great. She hadn't heard the nickname for years—nine years,
four months and...sixteen days, to be exact—and even then, only one person had
ever actually used it. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, shaking her head from
side to side. No. No way. There was absolutely no way this could be happening
to her. Not now. Not today of all days... Talk about kicking a girl when she
was down.
"Is it really you?" he asked.
Maybe she should pretend it wasn't her? Mistaken identity
and all that? She looked quite different now; she might be able to pull it off
and get away from him. Even as she tried to convince herself to do it, a little
voice inside told her it was futile to resist. It pained her to agree. It would
kill her not to speak to him, to not look at him and see the man he had become.
She'd only drive herself mad trying to work out why he was so far from home.
Nine years was a long time. Maybe he'd have forgotten all
about how she'd thrown herself at him, her brother's best friend, humiliating
herself to the extent that she'd fled her hometown? Yeah, and maybe pigs had
suddenly learned to fly too.
"Hi, Dean," she mumbled, staring down at his feet
like the timid and shy teenager she'd once been whenever he'd been around. But
she wasn't that person anymore. Oh no, she was quite possibly even worse now.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze, delaying the moment when their eyes would meet.
"Long time no—"
Her jaw actually dropped. It gaped open, betraying her
reaction. Smart brogue business shoes—well-polished—gave way to an
expensive-looking gray pinstripe suit—Armani, if she wasn't mistaken. He'd
teamed it with a crisp white shirt and a deep red silk tie—the color of blood—tied
in a fancy Windsor knot, and then he'd completed the ensemble with a dark
woolen overcoat. Left undone, it only served to highlight his spectacular
physique.
Butterflies took flight in her belly, fluttering wildly.
Where were the scruffy jeans and baggy T-shirts? She committed every inch of
this new Dean to memory, but she couldn't bring herself to look beyond the
shirt collar and tie. It was sure to be her undoing. She was practically
salivating already. He must be able to hear her heart pounding ferociously
against her rib cage.
She'd always had a thing for men in suits, and she'd always
had a thing for Dean; putting the two together was sure to be a winning—or
maybe that should be losing—combination.
"It is you. I knew it. Fancy seeing you here." He
sat down beside her, his tone friendly, and he sounded pleased to see her. If
only she could deny feeling the same. "Are you all set for Christmas
then?"
Ripped from her daydream, the one where Dean had tracked her
down, declared his undying love to her, and then whisked her away to a country
manor, the events of the day came crashing back down on her. The shock and her
excitement at seeing him drained out of her, seeping out of her shoes into the
concrete slabs, as cold and harsh as the reality she faced.
"No, not yet. Speaking of which, I must dash," she
said, ignoring the pain lancing through her leg as she stood. She did her best
to saunter off without looking like she was running away but failed
spectacularly.
"Hey, are you okay?" Damn it, he must have spotted
her limp. He caught up with her in a matter of strides, the crowds parting for
him, whereas she was trying to swim against the tide.
"I'm fine, thanks." Tilly sounded sullen and
brattish even to her own ears.
"You could have fooled me." He spun her around to
inspect her. She didn't want to think about how bad she looked.
"I said I'm fine." Stunned by her body's reaction
to his slight touch, she staggered back a step. "I also said I have to
go."
"What happened to your shoe?"
She could easily picture the way his brows would be knotted
together, frowning down at her, but she didn't want his concern. What she
wanted was for him to leave her alone. Didn't she? It was pitiful how much she
was torn between pushing him away to make a run for it or wrapping her arms
around him and clinging on like a frightened child.
"It doesn't matter, just forget it."
He either missed the hint and the dangerous edge to her
voice or he chose to ignore it. "It does matter, and I can't just forget
it. Are you injured?"
Now she really glared at him. "For Pete's sake! I said
I'm fine. Just let it go." Big mistake! She'd been right to avoid
looking above the shirt collar, and the poor light did nothing to hide the
transformation he'd gone through. She couldn't hold the glare; she'd already
seen too much. Heat was building in her core and merging with the fire that had
erupted inside her at his touch.
"No." A hint of menace crept into his voice. It
couldn't possibly be protective; he had no reason to be protective of her.
Well, he'd been warned—
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deck
Mac Hall by Raven McAllan
Buy Link
Blurb
For ten years Mac had trained to understand the sort of Dom
he is. Now he must explain himself to Holly and hope it's what she wants.
Holly has lusted after Mac for years, so when he suddenly
announces this Christmas is the right time, she is determined to see it
through.
Mac is a man of extreme tastes, and he's not all sure that
Holly can be the sub he needs. He has prepared for this time for years.
Will all this preparation bear fruit, or is little Holly
going to run away screaming? There's only one way to find out.
Excerpt
Damn Mac. All she wanted was a quiet life, not a
clit-quivering tingle every time he came within five yards of her. On cue, her
body responded to his presence, and her thong dampened.
"Your eyes are saying take me, I'm yours," a deep
male voice whispered in her ear. "Have you decided yet? I told you, Holly.
It has to be your decision, not mine. If you say yes, we'll set the rules. Not
until then. If you say no? Ah well, only I'll know what you've turned
down." His kiss on the nape of her neck sent a totally different sort of
shiver through her. If his look dampened her thong, his kiss had soaked it.
"Well?" he asked. His voice was patient, his tone
as conversational as if they were talking about the weather, not their future.
"Holly, you've had time. We decided on Christmas Eve. That's
tonight." He stamped his feet in the snow. The air was frosty, and his
breath created white misty swirls around his lips.
"You said midnight," Holly reminded him. "And
if we're being precise, I've had ten years. Now I have half an hour yet."
The nip on her neck made her jump.
"So I did. And?"
"So you can wait. I'll meet you in the Cock and Bull
then."
He spun her around to face him, eyes narrowed. "You
wouldn't be thinking of reneging, would you? I'll be mighty pissed if you
are." He put his arm around her, and his hand caressed her ass through the
heavy coat she was wearing. Even through all the layers, the heat of his
touch seared her skin.
Bloody prick. Argh, and if he moves that finger any harder,
it'll be in my asshole.
Breathless
Press will be awarding a $20 Breathless Press GC to one randomly drawn
commenter during the tour, and a $10 Breathless Press GC to a randomly drawn
host from the tour.
Leave a comment to enter, the more you comment the better your chances to win.
The Seventh Victim by Mary Burton
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.png)
.png)
.png)
.jpg)