...read all about it !Today we have a spotlight on Honey Jans and her release...
Goldie and the
Three Bears
Excerpt:
Her
lips tingled as he gazed masterfully down at her in the moonlight and her
nipples budded in the cool night air. She instinctively leaned toward him,
creaming, as a sexual energy field snapped between them.
“Who do
you belong to, bad girl?” he asked, a sardonic smile curving his handsome face.
“You,”
she cried out as he slid a hand down the front of her naked body, slowly over
her breasts, grazing her nipples until she sucked in a tremulous breath, and
his hand slid lower to boldly cup her weeping sex. Everything inside her
tightened as he held her in his big, work-roughened, warm hand. She was unable
to deny him anything and in exchange he gave her everything. He expertly
squeezed her mound, rubbing her clit as he did, and she came with a cry as he
held her safe…
Squeak…
Honey
Lockwood woke with a snort, sleepily discombobulated but knowing instantly she
wasn’t alone. Chills went through her as she lifted her head off the overheated
laptop keyboard and peered through the golden fringe of her curls that had
saddled her with the nickname Goldilocks. The dark recesses of her grandsire’s
lakeside lair were full of harmless shadows. So why was she shivering? And what
had made that noise? It couldn’t be the one of the Sundowners—roving bands of
Werebear males in search of mates. Besides she was immune from the virgin hunt,
being a dud DNA wise. Never had she been so happy to be a throwback to the
mundane part of her family.
The
mating season only served to reinforce her decision to start her own business,
leave the clan, and make her life in the human world. If she never saw a macho
Werebear again it would suit her just fine. She’d realized how out of her depth
she was when she’d caught her sometime beau Geoff on his knees pleasuring her
Werebear fem cousin, Joelle. The humiliation was enough to make her break away.
She’d known then and there that she had to get out. Of course, if she’d been a
true blood, she might have found out what it was like to get properly laid.
Instead
of being in on the mate hunt, she’d come to this remote cabin alone to regroup
before heading off to Chicago and her new life next week. Here she could work
on her business plan in private. She’d always had an affinity for numbers,
something she and Geoff had once had in common before the mating fever had hit
him and he’d lost all sense of reality. Heck, she hadn’t even told her family
where she was going, not that they cared. She’d fobbed Grandsire off with an
explanation that she was off on a singles cruise with her mortal friend, Darla,
and he’d been visibly relieved that she was out of the picture. His reaction
more than anything emphasized that she had to go back to real life and forget
about her clan.
Squeak…
A loose
floorboard squeaked in the kitchen again, bringing her wandering thoughts back
to danger in a nanosecond. Chills ran up her spine as a sensation of a dark
murky aura sent out tentacles toward her and with it came a gasp worthy top
note of musky cologne. Damn, the thug had to have bathed in it. Eyes watering
she knew that trouble was on the move, toward her. Her growing ability to read
auras, a real non talent in the Wereworld, was getting stronger. But she
rejected the notion that she was cracking up, as Joelle had claimed.
She was
as sane as anyone else and she knew she had to move. Unfortunately her purse,
containing her mace, cell phone, and car keys, was in the kitchen where he was.
She didn’t know how she was certain her nemesis was a he. But considering her
luck with men, it had to be some male mortal thug out to do her harm. Probably
some mundane out to rob the place although there wasn’t much to steal. A blast
of crisp night air against her back made her shiver and reminded her that she’d
left the patio door open in a last ditch effort to air out the musty fishing
shack. If she could quietly make it out the door, she’d stand a chance.
Holding
her breath, she eased out of her chair and tugged open the patio door’s screen,
wincing when it squeaked. Damn, if she lived through this night she was coming
back with a big oil can and oiling the shit out of these hinges. Something
crashed in the vicinity of the kitchen and her heart leapt to her throat. Time
to get the hell out.
With a gasp
she ran for the safety of the dark woods. It had to be well after midnight and
not a creature was stirring, except her. Her crunching footsteps sounded
thunderous as she made it to the tree line. She sagged against a tree
breathless as the darkness cloaked her. At least whoever had broken into the
shack wasn’t chasing her. Standing there shaking and feeling like an idiot she
wondered if she’d dreamt it after all. No tentacles of evil chased her, not
even a mouse sneezed. Maybe her vivid imagination had been working overtime
after all. She had been feeling strange lately as her thirtieth birthday
approached.
She
turned to peer back at the cabin. All the lights were still blazing and just
the sight of the light calmed her fears. Given her fear of the dark, she’d
brought plenty of nightlights. Everything seemed peaceful. Her belongings,
including her brand new laptop were inside. Could she just abandon them because
of a bad dream?
A shot
rang out smacking into the tree above her head, splintering the wood. She
dropped like a rock, biting back a scream, her arm burning like fire. Oh my
heavens, I didn’t imagine it! Then the cabin lights were doused all at once and
she knew she was in trouble deep. Fear made her scramble to her feet and run
deep into the pitch-dark woods as the overpowering stench of musk pursued her.
Half an
hour later she crested a rise and saw a big lakeside cabin, its light ablaze in
the valley below. Lights! Tears of relief sprang to her eyes. Never had a sight
seemed more welcoming. She raced toward the house, tripped, tearing the strap
on one of her sandals, and hobbled up onto the porch. Breathless, she looked
for a doorbell. Not seeing one, she banged on the solid wood door then reached
for the doorknob. The minute she touched it her palm tingled and she distinctly
heard the lock open before it swung open on well-oiled hinges.
Startled,
she stood there rubbing her heated palm for a moment as she looked inside the
seemingly empty house. Then a rainbow of pleasant auras seemed to bid her into
the house. Stunned by her good fortune, she rushed into the house and slammed
the door behind her, sagging back against it trembling. As she stood there
glancing around the well-appointed but seemingly vacant lodge, a strange
feeling of lethargy came over her. The strange auras rubbed against her skin
making her tingle. Damn, maybe this was a delayed reaction to shock. She
absolutely refused to feel auras on top of seeing them. She couldn’t deny the
feeling of coming home, but this place was posh compared to her grandsire’s
rustic compound that she’d grown up on.
As
she’d noted from outside, all the lights were on. A fire blazed in the
fireplace and something savory simmered in the vicinity of the kitchen. Her
stomach grumbled in response, as she hadn’t eaten since morning. Nobody seemed
to be home. As a matter of fact the place had a vacant feel, as if it were
waiting for its occupants. She rolled her eyes at her vivid imagination and
ventured into the empty room looking for a phone.
“
Hello,” she called out, hearing her tense voice echo through the empty lodge.
Suck it
up, Goldilocks, nobody’s home so you’ll just have to save yourself. She took a
step forward and damned near broke her neck when she tripped over her broken
sandal again. With a growl she kicked off the damned things. Then she walked
into the living room looking in vain for a phone. Almost out on her feet, she
plopped wearily into a huge leather wing chair by the fireplace, smirking when
her feet didn’t touch the floor. The story of The Three Bears came to mind.
This had to be papa bear’s chair. The only other furniture in the room were two
more leather recliners just as deep, confirming her guess that this was a man
cave. Maybe the boys had gone out on a beer run. Some help they’d be.
Fighting
her urge to just cuddle up in the chair and go to sleep, she surged to her
feet. She had to find a phone…save herself…and get some crazy housebreaker
busted. She followed her nose and the delicious smells toward the kitchen.
Seemed like a logical place for a phone and she was hungry.
She
stopped at the doorway. No phone, but a crock pot on the counter simmered away
with what smelled like chili drawing her toward it. Her stomach grumbled again
forcefully reminding her that she’d missed dinner. Her mouth watering, she
gazed at the three bowls set out next to the crock pot. Shades of The Three
Bears again, making her grin. Well, the other Goldilocks had helped herself to
some porridge, maybe it was a sign that she should too.
Before
she could censor herself she ladled herself a portion of the chili and sat down
at the kitchen nook before she fell down. She needed to eat and she’d pay for
the chili when she got her purse back. She took a bite of the spicy concoction,
blowing on it when it was too hot, stirring it till it cooled down, and then
greedily eating it all when it was just right.
Sitting
back, replete, she looked down at her messy clothes and winced. Yikes! She was
covered in dirt and leaves from her flight through the woods and tumble down
the hill. And there were a few telltale drops of chili on her white blouse. The
boys would probably think she was crazy looking this way. Hell, she’d be lucky
not to get shot at again. She needed to clean up fast.
She
stood up on wobbly legs and started down the hall in search of either a
bathroom or a phone whichever came first. Her footsteps faltered when she
glanced into the messy den. Up till now everything in this place had been neat
as a pin. She smiled when she saw the papers strewn on the oak desktop and
tumbling onto the floor. This looked like her office after she’d been on one of
her creative streaks.
Then
the sound of swirling water caught her attention. Could it possibly be a hot
tub? Just the thought made her yearn for warmth. She padded down the hall
toward the sound and stepped out into what she could only call a spa. There was
a deep Jacuzzi tub and even a sauna. Now this was roughing it in the woods. She
gazed longingly at the tub. It was almost calling her name. Should she? A
bottle of jasmine bath oil sat on the edge of the tub. Maybe one of the boys
had a lover. She didn’t know why that thought bothered her more than the
prospect of stealing someone’s bath. Pushing back those thoughts she poured in
the bath oil, stripped, and got in. Sinking down in the water she eased back
and closed her eyes with a groan as all her sore muscles tightened a moment
before going loose. Drifting away, she sank down in the water, pressure melting
away. A few minutes later she woke up in a hurry, coming up sputtering. Damn,
she was dead on her feet.
With a
wince, she pulled herself out of the tub, her cuts stinging anew. She toweled
off and glanced at her trashed clothes, her nose wrinkling. For nothing on
earth would she put them back on until she sponged them clean, but she was too
tired. Instead she reached for the white terry cloth robe hanging on the back
of the door. It was miles too big for her but it was warm and enveloping and
she snuggled into it like a security blanket. It smelled of sandalwood and man,
obviously a big man, one who could protect her. If only!
Half-asleep,
she staggered out of the steamy bathroom into the frigid hallway and shivered,
her teeth chattering. Well, hell, she was really out on her feet, maybe in
shock. She had to get warm, fast. She headed toward the bedrooms like a guided
missile. She’d have a little lie down to regain her equilibrium.
About the Author:
Honey Jans lives in a small Midwestern town with her husband and true inspiration. She is a born romantic with an extraordinarily vivid, yet kinky, imagination. Honey loves writing erotica and hopes that her stories add a little spice to her readers lives.
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