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Cassie's Birthday Wish by Lynn Chantale

“That is not a mouse.” #MFRWhooks

Cassie's Birthday Wish by Lynn Chantale

 

Cassie loves Cole and cherishes her relationship with the sexy rancher, but her heart also yearns for, Seth, the ranch manager.

 

Cole has held Cassie’s heart for a very long time, and will do anything to keep her happy. But will a threesome with Seth be too much?  

Excerpt 

She shoved against his chest. “That is not a mouse.”

 

Seth squeezed by the couple and Cassie admired his naked torso. “In her defense, Cole, it’s a big, nasty rat.”
 
From her perch on the desk and behind Cole, Cassie peered above Cole’s head in time to see Seth bend to scoop the dead animal in a plastic bag. The gray and white tiger stripe Cassie kept as a pet, swiped at Seth’s gloved hand.
 
Seth took it all in stride, even battling with the cat a few moments over its prize. “Sorry Ripper, but you can’t keep bringing your treasures for our Cassie to praise you over. She’s squeamish about such things.”
 
With Cole’s help, Cassie hopped off the desk. Seth’s teasing pricked her feminine pride. “I’m not squeamish, I just don’t like dead rodents.”
 
Seth shoved the open bag toward her. The dying rat moved on its own volition. She squealed, then ducked under Cole’s arm to escape.
 
“It’s still alive!” she said with a shriek.
 
Cole grasped her wrist and pushed her behind him. “Barely, Cassie girl.”
 
“I can let Ripper finish him off, if you like?” Seth offered, with a husky laugh.
 
“C’mon Seth. You’ve had your fun,” Cole said.
 
“Take that filthy thing outta here. And wash your hands twice before you come back in.”
 
Seth laughed. “Honey, I’m wearing gloves.”
 
“Then burn them.”
 
His robust laughter floated through the office as he carried the rodent to the trash heap. The cat meowed its protest, then rubbed against Cassie’s legs. She untangled from Cole, intending to give the animal a consolation treat.
 
Cole retained his grip. She faced him, expectantly.
 
“Some days I wonder what you see in him,” Cole said.
 
Cassie shook her head. This wasn’t the first Cole said that. Sometimes it was tinged with jealousy other times, like now, it held a note of pure curiosity. “He brings me the same pleasure and fulfillment in life that you do.”
 
And that was the truth. She always had the capacity to love, and Cole was her first love, but the need was sated when Seth entered both of their lives. She couldn’t imagine living without either of them.

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Subservient – Sin-Eaters Book 1: Pride #MFRWHooks

Pride (Sin-Eaters Book 1)

Huemac, a half-breed, covets ultimate power, but he needs two things—access to the royal family and an ancient artifact. He attains the former by seducing the Emperor’s sister, and then steals the latter.

 

Moctezuma, the newly crowned Emperor, comes from a long line of powerful gods known as Sin-Eaters. He desires peace among his people, but an ancient prophecy warns of war.

 

Huemac discovers the incantation to activate the fabled Athame of Souls, a mythical weapon capable of entrapping souls. His quest to rule is within his grasp. Only one thing stands in his way—Moctezuma.

 

Available on 

   

“Indulge Your Inner Romantic”


Excerpt

  
Huemac stared at the piece of parchment in his hand. A servant had delivered it some fifteen minutes past. It was a formal invitation to dinner with the royal family. He sneered at the gold-embossed writing. Summoned as if he were a subservient being.

 

He tossed the invitation aside, having already given his affirmative reply to the servant. With a glance over his shoulder to ensure the door was closed and locked, he glided to a wooden-and-brass chest at the end of his bed. He shoved it aside with a grunt. Next. he grasped the lip of one of the massive stones that made up the floor. Sweat beaded then rolled down his face from the effort.  He hefted the stone with a grinding sound. His muscles quivered, but he set the rock aside in front of the chest. Huemac knelt, then placed his arm in the floor opening all the way up to his shoulder. After a moment of probing the damp, cool space his fingers closed around a bundle of cloth. He pulled the object out, then sat back.

 

He unrolled the cotton with great care to reveal a dagger in a worn leather sheath. Emeralds, rubies, and opals adorned the gold hilt. He pulled the blade free. The honed metal glinted dully in the light with a dim glow. An ominous moan reverberated around the room. The sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck and set his teeth on edge. It seeped around and through him, drawing him closer to the dagger’s razor-sharp edge. He sheathed it with a snap. The mournful song stopped. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He needed to find the incantation that would allow him to control the knife. Without those precious words, he would be as susceptible as the other gods.

 

Perhaps he would use his dinner invitation to peruse the library once more.

 

****

 

Huemac could not keep his gaze from Metztli over dinner. Even though Moctezuma sat at the head of the table, Huemac could not stop staring. She seemed to have grown more radiant and beautiful since he last saw her. Her dark wavy tresses were pinned in a complicated updo of braids and coils that left her long graceful neck exposed. Her only jewelry was a glittering blood-red ruby choker which sat at the hollow of her throat.

 

He longed to explore the long column with butterfly kisses and soft bites. Gripping his water goblet a little tighter, he reminded himself that now was not the time to indulge in such lurid thoughts. He brought the glass to his lips and drank. The coolness washing across his tongue helped settle him but did not abate the hardness between his legs.

 

“I understand that my sister has requested you as part of her personal guard,” Moctezuma began offhandedly. “This is a much-coveted position.”

 
Huemac pretended not to see the dark glare Metztli shot Moctezuma. “Indeed, Lord Emperor. It is a testament of the trust and faith the princess has in me.” He allowed pride and arrogance to flow through his voice.

 

Moctezuma merely smiled. “Please do not stand on formality, old friend. I am rather pleased Metztli has requested you.” 

Huemac coughed in surprise. He made the mistake of glancing directly into Moctezuma’s eyes and once more experienced the sensation of falling. With great effort, he looked away. Had the emperor seen anything?

 

Moctezuma frowned, then rubbed his temples. “I will be speaking with Tialoc about the reassignment once he returns.”

 

Hope that had nothing to do with his own plot soared through Huemac. Once more he wondered if he were merely using Metztli as a means to an end of if he truly had feelings for her. “And when will that be?”

 

Moctezuma stared at a point beyond Metztli’s shoulder. “Three days’ time. In the meantime, I have spoken with Xochiti to lighten your duties so that the two of you may be permitted some time here and there.”
 
 

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What Had The Demigod Seen? #MFRWhooks

“Once my father found me, I stayed in seclusion with one of the healers and a confidant.” Moctezuma continued as if nothing had happened. “I think that is the real reason my father wishes me to rule. He understands the suffering I’ve experienced and knows I will use my past to help others, to provide a more united front for our people and end the squabbling of who is better.” 

 

Huemac merely nodded. He would eradicate anyone who opposed him—not give peace a chance. Peace didn’t work. History had proven that time and time again. Peace merely prolonged the inevitable takeover by greedy disease-infested interlopers.

 

Still, he refrained from looking Moctezuma directly in the eye. The exchange had left him surprisingly shaken and he didn’t trust his voice not to quaver and betray his true emotions. Belatedly, he swore again. Metztli had done much of the same thing earlier, hadn’t she? Did the siblings share the same gift or was it just the force of their personalities?

 

Icy tendrils of fear crawled through his belly. No could know his plans.

 

“So you understand why this is so important? The last thing I want to do is be the harbinger of war.”

 

“Truly you do not believe that ancient prophecy?”

 

Moctezuma raised an elegant shoulder. “Just as the birth of Christ was foretold, so is war.”

 

Another long moment passed. Huemac was almost certain Moctezuma had seen the plot.

 

A servant, in a long flowing tunic and pale cotton pants the color of dry sand, hurried across the garden. As soon as he was within three feet of Moctezuma, he dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the stones in front of the demigod’s feet. “Tecutli—Lord, your presence is needed before the priests.” Though muffled, the servant’s voice was clear and crisp.

 

Ehua—rise, Ichtaca.” Moctezuma said.

 

The servant did, but remained in a submissive posture, head bowed and hands clasped behind his back.

 

“Tell the priests I will arrive in due time. I am aware of the hour.”

 

Ichtaca bowed his head, backed away several paces before turning and leaving the garden.

 

Moctezuma glanced at the sky. The sun was still high in the cloudless blue sky, but it had passed its zenith. “I must see to my duties, Huemac. Perhaps before the ceremony, we can both shirk our duties for a time and go fishing.”

 

A real smile touched the corners of Huemac’s mouth. “Perhaps.”

 

Without another word, Moctezuma left the garden in a puff of green mist.

 

Huemac stared at the vacant spot with a mixture of contempt and fear. Just what had the demigod seen when he looked into Huemac’s eyes? 

 


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