Spotlight: Rescuing a Runaway Bride by Honey Jans

Samantha Logan is a runaway bride. Jake Ramsey is a PI on a stakeout. When they meet in the dark after midnight all their formerly suppressed desires explode. Samantha so needs to prove her sexiness after finding her fiancée in the sack with another woman and Jake has wanted his bosses daughter for years. But will the fire burn out when she finds out he’s here to arrest her brother? To find out come along on the thrill ride as they battle her kinky ex-fiancée, espionage, and each other. Will Jake be able to rescue this runaway bride?

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.

Website / Blog

Excerpt:

Samantha Logan parked her car in front of her family’s dilapidated summer cabin in the north woods of Wisconsin and let out a demoralized sigh. Chicago’s morning newspapers would expose the entire disaster, complete with the glaring caption ‘Runaway Bride’. What they wouldn’t say was that after she caught the rat bastard with another woman Grayson St. James had freaked out so much he’d damned near killed her. It was an accident she kept telling herself but she wasn’t taking any chances by sticking around to hear his feeble apologies.

She’d gone to his condo needing to know if they were sexually compatible. The answer hell no, made her lips curve in a rueful smile as she remembered him grunting and sweating over some naked blonde bimbo who was going down on him. The fact he wanted sex wasn’t the shocker. The fact he didn’t want it with semi-virgin her was a huge wake-up call. This time around she’d choose a lover more carefully. What she needed was a teacher, some ideal hunk who’d teach her all about sex. And being academically minded she’d already mentally compiled a list of qualities her erotic arts instructor would need. The first being completely honest, she wouldn’t settle for anything less. The second being able to make her toes curl as she came. But first she was going to hole up here until the furor died down. In retrospect she realized Grayson’s betrayal had probably been just the boot in the butt she needed to shake her out of her safe little workaholic life.

With that thought in mind she climbed out of her almost paid off clunker and walked up the rutted path to her hideout. If she were in luck the key would be in the old hiding place on the ledge above the door. Reaching up on tiptoe she smiled when her fingertips encountered cold metal. Great, things were finally going her way.

Steadying her shaking hands, she stuck the key in the lock, and tried her damndest to turn it. The darned thing wouldn’t turn. It was probably rusted shut. Just her rotten luck. Good and mad now she rattled the rusty lock trying to force it.

Then suddenly the door jerked open taking her with it as she fell into the dark cabin. Crashing to the floor she let out a gasp when some linebacker-sized guy jumped on her taking her down in a rolling tackle that left her flat on her back under him. What the fuck, have I stumbled across a squatter? Because there is no way Grayson or my father and his private dicks could know I’m here.

Trying to suck in air she futilely kicked out at him giving him her best mixed martial arts moves learned during a free crash course due to her new contract with Max’s Dojo. And groaned in frustration when she couldn’t even land a decent punch as he blocked her every move with the stealth of a ninja. Then he captured her wrists in one brawny hand as he began running the other down her struggling body. Just then she finally drew in enough air into her starved lungs to scream realizing too late he smelled hauntingly familiar. It couldn’t be?her luck couldn’t be all bad.

He froze on top of her, if possible, pinning her harder to the floor and she heard him bite back a curse…a slightly southern totally snarky curse and wanted to die. It was. Oh dear heavens her nemesis and teenage wet dream Jake Ramsey.

“Stop your goddamned caterwauling, brat,” he bit out.

Her breath caught in her throat as his oh-so rugged body pressed intimately against hers, the steely brand of his cock damned near burning her sex through her panties. Damn she had to say she wanted to hire a sex instructor. Jake Ramsey was sex on a stick and his big work-roughened hand still cupping her quivering breast made her burn. On cue her nipple budded wantonly against his hot rough palm as a heat wave swept through her.

On top of her he sucked in a breath, his hand tightening on her breast and she thought she was going to die of bliss. Then he went absolutely still muttering what sounded like a curse and she wanted to cry. Great she’d shocked him…again. This was the part where he let her go and gave her the lecture for improper young ladies which had been his job way back when he first came to work for her father as part of Logan Industries Security Force. At least the dark would save her the humiliation of him seeing her blush.

Then the lights snapped on and she groaned. What did he do, install a timer? It’d be easy for the thug who now headed her dad’s security team. She gazed up at him needing to know if he’d changed in the seven years she’d been away, since he’d run her off really. She’d hightailed it for college early after he’d rejected her advances and hadn’t looked back until now.

His gray eyes were still hard and watchful, but they softened a bit as he looked down at her turning into a molten silver glow that took her breath away. There was something decidedly dangerous about the former soldier turned Logan Industries Security Chief. Unfortunately looking at her would no doubt cool his ardor. He hadn’t wanted her when she was eighteen why should now be any different? She didn’t fool herself that she was a great beauty. Her curves were too generous and her sassy independence turned off most men. But instead of his hard-on shrinking it grew against her making her gasp with surprise.

Instinctively she pressed against him pushing her luck. Then he rubbed his thumb over her hard nipple and she trembled, a moan pouring out of her throat. Since when did he want her? Or was this some new interrogation technique? A good cop, sexy bad cop thing designed to drive her nuts?

“What’s the matter, sugar? St. James not so good in the sack?” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

What was the question? She looked up at him with lust-fogged eyes. Oh yeah, is Grayson a flop in the sack? She never found out but she wasn’t about to admit it to the hunk. “None of your dang business, goon.”

“Answer me or I’ll take your sexy ass over my knee,” he growled.

Her toes curled at the huskily voiced threat even as her bottom heated up. Did he really think she had a sexy ass? She’d been reading erotic romances telling herself she was getting ready for her marriage. Now she knew different, she’d been getting ready for her sex instructor. Jake Ramsey disreputable as he was might make the perfect erotica one-o-one teacher. “Really?” she asked, knowing she sounded more hopeful than she should.

Arrested by her Sheik

Mix one quiet librarian looking for a good time. A sexy Arab-Greek Sheik in cops clothing signing on to teach her all about sex. And criminals who will stop at nothing to get what they want...namely her dead. And you have Arrested by her Sheik. I hope you’ll come along on this thrill ride of adventure as Mandy Wilson finds out what it’s like to be Arrested by her Sheik.

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.

Website / Blog

Excerpt:

“Oh my god, Mandy Wilson, you are so going to jail for this,” I hissed as I tiptoed up to the decrepit back door of the even more decrepit Greek jail. My first clue of impending disaster should have been the dented door hanging ajar, the second the eerie silence in the alleyway, but I was so determined to clear Marco’s name I breezed forward on my mission. I had to save my would-be gigolo from Nick Constantine, the obnoxious but sexy Greek cop who’d arrested him last night.  

Thankfully the sun was going down and the growing afternoon shadows covered my movements. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a window and winced. I looked as ragged as I felt and even worse excited. I was reluctant to admit that good girl me was getting off on this. My mocha skin was flushed with what I was pretty sure was sunburn, my green eyes were drowsy from a sleepless night tearing ass through the convoluted Greek legal system, and my long wavy dark hair had long ago escaped the bun I’d pulled it in to curl around my overheated face.

  Damn, the jailer would probably take one look at me and call the gendarmes. I wouldn’t have been forced to go to these extremes if Nick had been reasonable last night. But he hadn’t been. Marco was inside, our cruise ship was about to depart, and I was damned well going to get him out. It was my second reckless act since starting this journey of sexual discovery, the first being hooking up with Marco two days ago, and I was going was damned well going to do this.

I touched the door, noticing too late that it seemed to have been kicked in, and winced when it swung open with an audible groan. The groan I bit back was even louder as I froze...double fuck...and waited to be arrested. I couldn’t help imagining Nick coming down on me hard. I shivered with what I was afraid was excitement...  

Goldie Lockwood from Goldie and the Three Bears

What’s your favorite color?  Red

What type of vehicle do you drive? A drive an old Ford Focus.

Describe yourself to me.  I’m a were-bear half breed with no magical powers.  Still as mating time approaches I’m feeling extra out of sorts.  It’s so bad that I slink off to my grandsires old fishing cabin to get away.

How would your mate describe you?  As if I’d ever get a mate.  Being a nonentity in my clan means I’m dateless. 

What really moves you, or touches you to the soul?  Kindness.  My family even though most of them don’t accept me.

What's the one thing you have always wanted to do but couldn't? What would happen if you did do it? I’ve wanted to have a normal life and a normal romance.  I’m not sure what I’d do if it happened.  Probably goof it up.

Describe your ideal mate. A great sense of humor, a strong sensual touch, and a caring heart.  A non-were mate who can accept me and make me melt in his arms.

What are you most afraid of? Something bad happening to someone I love.  Being alone and unfulfilled for the rest of my life.

What's the most important thing in your life? My family.  The possibility of finding love.

What do you consider your special talent? I’m a great listener and I’m very loyal.

How did you meet the hero/heroine?  I crashed his house when I ran away from invaders and he found me sleeping in his bed. 

Was it love at first sight or did it develop slowly?  I would say it was lust and suspicion at first sight.

What did you like/dislike about him/her when you first met?  I liked his hot eyes, his easy smile, the sexy way he walked.  If I was honest I more than liked them.  He had me captivated then he kissed me and took my breath away.

If you were granted three wishes, what would you ask for?

Love.  Acceptance.  And Normality.

In this trio of sizzling Torrid Twisted Tales Honey Jans turns the traditional fairy tales on their ears. Take a little time to find out if Red Riding Hood can handle the big bad wolf, Cindy can captivate her prince charming, and what Goldie does with her Three Bears?

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.

Website / Blog

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.