Saturday, February 23, 2013

Snippet Saturday - Author's Choice

********Leave a comment for a chance to win a download of 
That Voodoo You Do by Myla Jackson********
Voodoo on the Bayou
by Elle James (aka Myla Jackson)


“By day a frog, by night a man, ‘til de next full moon...”
At first, lawyer and ladies’ man Craig Thibodeaux thought Madame LeBieu’s chant was a strange bayou joke. But the voodoo worked and Craig is spending his days as...well, a small green frog. Now he has only two weeks to find love, or his new froggy transformation becomes permanent.

When she receives the anonymous toxic water sample from Bayou Miste, research scientist Elaine Smith decides a trip to the bayou is the perfect excuse to escape the lab, and forget about her cheating ex-fiancé. Then she accidentally stumbles upon Craig’s oh-so-fine naked form, and her science-nerd brain is overrun with naughty thoughts about her new gorgeous night-time bayou guide.

But there’s more to Bayou Miste than voodoo curses and sexy late-night trysts. Dark secrets threaten the delicate ecosystem, and there are those who would do anything to keep those secrets hidden. Even murder...

Despite the weighty warmth of the swamp, a chill crept down Craig’s spine. "Who’s the lady in the muumuu?"

The silent wonder next to him deigned to speak in a reverent whisper, "Madame LeBieu."

Craig frowned and mentally scratched his head. Madame LeBieu...Madame LeBieu...oh, yes. The infamous Bayou Miste Voodoo priestess, a notorious mishmash of Cajun-Caribbean witchdoctor mumbo-jumbo and healer. No one really knew her background, but she was both feared and revered in the community. He studied her with more interest and a touch of unease. Was he to be a sacrifice in some wacky Voodoo ceremony?

"Are you in charge of these two thugs?" Craig feigned a cockiness he didn’t feel.

"It be I who called upon dem." She dipped her head in a regal nod.

"Then call them off and untie me." Craig shot an angry look at the men on either side of him. "You’ve obviously got the wrong guy."

"Were you not de man what be goin’ out with de sweet Lisa LeBieu earlier dis very evening?"

"Yes," Craig said, caution stretching his answer, as dread pooled in his stomach. He didn’t go into the fact that Lisa wasn’t so sweet. "Why?"

"I be Madame LeBieu and Lisa be my fille grande. She say you dally with her heart and cast it aside." The woman’s rich, melodious voice held a thread of steel.

Craig frowned in confusion. "You mean this isn’t about the card game? This is about Lisa, your granddaughter?"

"No, dis be ‘bout you mistreatment of les femmes."

"I don’t get it. I didn’t touch her. She came on to me, and I took her home."

"Abuse not always takes de physical form. You shunned her love and damage her chakras. For dis, you pay."

Craig cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "You mean I was conked on the head and dragged from my bed all because I refused to sleep with your granddaughter?" He snorted. "This is a new one on me."

"Craig Thibodeaux, I know your kind." Madame LeBieu stuck a thick, brown finger in his face. "You break hearts wherever you go, dating one woman after another and no love to show for it. You’ve wielded your loveless way for de last time." Madame LeBieu flicked her fingers, and the flames behind her leaped higher. Then, reaching inside the voluminous sleeves of the caftan, she whipped out an atomizer and sprayed a light floral scent all around him. The aroma mixed and mingled with the dark musty smells of the swamp’s stagnant pools and decaying leaves.

"So you’re going to douse me in perfume to unman me?" Craig’s bark of laughter clashed with the rising beat of the drums. The humor of the situation was short-lived when the mosquitoes decided they liked him even more with the added scent. Craig shook all over to discourage the beggars from landing.

"Ezili Freda Daome, Goddess of love and all that is beautiful, listen to our prayers, accept our offerings, and enter into our arms, legs, and hearts." Madame LeBieu’s head dropped back, and she spread her arms wide. The drumbeat increased in intensity, reverberating off the canopy of trees shrouded in low-hanging Spanish moss. 

The pounding emphasized the throbbing ache in the back of Craig’s head from where Madame LeBieu’s henchmen had beaned him in his room at the bait shop prior to dragging him here. The combined smells of perfume and swamp, along with the jungle beat and chanting nut case made his stomach churn. The darkness of the night surrounded him, pushing fear into his soul.

Craig had a sudden premonition that whatever was about to happen, had the potential to change his life entirely. Half of him wished they would just get on with it, whatever it was. The other half quaked in apprehension.
The Voodoo priestess’s arms and head dropped, the drums crashing to a halt. Silence descended. Not a single cricket, frog, or bird interrupted the eerie stillness.

Craig broke the trance, fighting his growing fear with false bravado. "And I’m supposed to believe all this mumbo jumbo?" He snorted. "Give me a break. Next thing, you’ll be waving a fairy wand and saying bibbity-bobbity-boo."

Madame LeBieu leveled a cold, hard stare at him.

Another shiver snaked down his spine. With the sweat dripping off his brow and chills racing down his back, he thought he might be ill. Maybe even hallucinating.

A small girl appeared at Madame LeBieu’s side, handing her an ornate cup. She waited silently for the woman to drink. Craig noticed that his two former friends bowed their heads as the Voodoo lady sipped from the cup then handed it back to the girl. Clutching the cup as if it were her dearest possession, the child bowed at the waist, backing into the shadows.

With a flourishing sweep of her wrist, Madame LeBieu pulled a pastel pink, blue, and white scarf from the sleeve of her caftan, and waved it in Craig’s face.
 "Mistress of Love, hear my plea.
Help dis shameless man to see."
 "You know I have family in high places, don’t you?" Craig said. Not that they were there to help him now.
Madame LeBieu continued as though he hadn’t spoken.
 "Though he be strong, his actions bold,
his heart be loveless, empty, cold.
By day a frog, by night a man,
‘til de next full moon, dis cunja will span."
Craig stopped shaking his head, mosquitoes be damned. What was the old lady saying? "Hey, what’s this about frogs?"
 "A woman will answer Ezili’s call,
one who’ll love him, warts and all."
"Who, the frog or me?" He chuckled nervously at the woman’s fanatical words, downplaying his rising uneasiness. His next sarcastic statement was cut off when Mo’s heavily muscled forearm crashed into his stomach. "Oomph!"

"Silence!" Mo’s command warned of further retribution should Craig dare to interrupt again.

Which worked out great, since he was too busy sucking wind to restore air to his lungs. All he could do was glare at his former friend. If only looks could kill, he’d have Mo six feet under in a New Orleans minute.
Madame LeBieu went on,
 "He’ll watch by day and woo by night,
to gain her love, he mus fight,
to break de cunja, be whole again,
transformed into a caring man."
"You didn’t have to knock the wind out of my sails." Craig wheezed, and jerked his head in Madame LeBieu’s direction. "She’s the one making all the noise, talking nonsense about frogs and warts."

Mo’s face could have been etched in stone.

The old witch held her finger in Craig’s face, forcing him to look at it. Then she drew the finger to her nose and his gaze followed until he noticed her eyes. A strange glow, having nothing to do with fire, burned in their brown-black centers. Madame LeBieu’s voice dropped to a low, threatening rumble.
 "Should he deny dis gift from you,
a frog he’ll remain in de blackest bayou."
 With a flourishing spray of perfume and one last wave of the frothy scarf, Madame LeBieu backed away from Craig, disappearing into the darkness from whence she’d come.

Craig’s stomach churned and a tingling sensation spread throughout his body. He attributed his discomfort to the nauseating smells and the ropes cutting off his circulation. "Hey, you’re not going to leave me here trussed up like a pig on a spit, are you?" Craig called out to the departing priestess.

A faint response carried to him from deep in the shadows. "Dôn tempt me, boy."

Other Authors Participating in Snippet Saturday:

Lauren Dane
Shiloh Walker
Mari Carr
Delilah Devlin
Jody Wallace
Shelli Stevens
TJ Michaels
Leah Braemel
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Felicity Heaton
Caris Roane
Myla Jackson
HelenKay Dimon

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Snippet Saturday - Sweethearts

Sex Ed
by Myla Jackson

She wanted lessons in how to make a cowboy hot... He was the cowboy to teach her

Kendall has loved sexy cowboy Ed Johnson since the first time she saw him taming wild horses. Now Kendall is twenty-one, legal and ready to be more than friends. In her bid to win his affections she asks Ed to give her a few Sex Education lessons about what makes a cowboy hot.

Ed promised Kendall's brother he'd keep an eye on his little sister while he's away defending their country. But Ed's pretty darn certain Sex Education lessons aren't what big brother had in mind. Caught between his pledge and a recently matured little sex kitten, Ed struggles to keep his word, while giving Kendall what she wants, Sex Ed.


As he turned onto the street where the old Ross house stood, a convertible backed out of the driveway he shared with the other two occupants. A muscular, bare-chested young man smiled and waved as he passed by with the top down, his long, bright blond hair blowing in the breeze.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel and a frown settled between Ed's brows. Who the hell was that leaving the house he shared with Kendall and Lacey? Better be one of Lacey's conquests. She was old enough to manage her own affairs. Kendall, on the other hand, had barely been twenty-one for a few weeks. She'd better not be messing around on Ed's watch.

As he shifted into park, he glanced up at the window to Kendall's apartment. The blinds were open and Kendall stood with her side to the window, wearing nothing but a thin, lace bra and thong panties. She turned her back to the window and unclipped the bra, letting it fall down over her arms to the floor.

She might as well be naked-the thin strap of the thong cutting a line between her butt cheeks hid nothing.
Ed moaned, his cock twitched, and blood rushed in to make it swell behind his zipper. He forced anger to follow the powerful rush of lust. Did the girl have so little sense as to leave her window wide open so that any peeping Tom could look in?

With the storm of lust and righteous anger driving him forward, Ed leaped out of the car, passed the door to his apartment on the first floor and took the steps two at a time to the upper apartment where Kendall lived. He hammered on the door until Kendall flung it open.

"Oh, Ed." She cupped her hands over her naked breasts, like that did anything to hide their beautiful, lush fullness from Ed's vision. "Where's the fire?"

Ed pushed past her and marched to the window on the other side of the apartment, yanking the string on the shade so hard, the shade popped out of its slot and clattered to the floor.

Kendall giggled behind him, her eyes going wide when Ed glared.

He gathered the shade from the floor, fit the ends into the slot and lowered it with more precision and care this time. When he was done, he faced Kendall, and breathed a sigh to find her clutching a shirt to her chest. "Don't undress in front of the window. I thought your mother taught you better than that."

"There's not anyone on this street who'd care but Old Man Frantzen." She tossed her hair. "I'm sure he's so blind he couldn't see that far anyway."

Ed jerked his thumb toward the window. "You never know what perverts are lurking out there looking for an eyeful. And honey, you were giving an eyeful and then some."

Her eyelids closed to half-mast and she sidled close. "Perverts? Hum…sounds interesting." Slim fingers climbed up his chest and the shirt she held slipped lower, letting one perky nipple peek through.

Ed reached out and lifted the shirt to cover her flesh, realizing his mistake as soon as the backs of his fingers brushed over her naked skin. Stifling a groan, he jumped back. "Just close the blinds before you strip, will ya?"

"Yes, sir!" Kendall popped a salute.

That pesky shirt slipped down again to expose the other pretty breast.

Saturday, February 09, 2013

Snippet Saturday - Action

 Be My Vampire
by Myla Jackson 

Be My Vampire

Elite Paranormal Investigative Agent Reggie Gallagher hates vampires. After thirteen beautiful women are kidnapped off the streets of Houston, Reggie and her sister set themselves up as bait to catch the kidnappers. The mission goes sour, her sister vanishes and Reggie is surrounded by a rabid pack of vampires only to be rescued by the most desirable vampire Reggie’s ever encountered. Captivated by his incredible magnetism, Reggie can’t deny her body’s response to the vampire’s nearness. When the sexy beast insists on providing protection and assistance in finding the missing women, Reggie can’t refuse.
After the woman he loved turned Yuri Kovac into a vampire four hundred years ago, he swore he’d never trust another woman with his heart. Then he saved a sensuous hellcat from a band of vicious vampires only to find himself mesmerized by her curvaceous body, hot temper and fierce love for her family. Together Yuri and Reggie seek Reggie’s missing sister and face down the evil behind the disappearances while fighting their growing attraction for each other.

Reggie Gallagher ducked behind the last in a row of Dumpsters and braced her hands on her knees, dragging in huge gulps of air. Sweat ran down the side of her face, and the black ribbed tank top she wore clung to her breasts. The coastal humidity and heat acted like a steam bath even when she was standing still. For the moment, all she could hear was the ragged gasps of her breath wheezing in and out of her straining lungs. And despite the retched stench of the waste beside her, she welcomed the respite from the chase.

Where was Madison? She’d been right behind Reggie until now.

The quiet of the alley was broken when pounding footsteps entered and raced toward her.

Risking a stealthy glance around the hard metal corner of the Dumpster, Reggie confirmed the runner, and she reached out to snag her and pull her in beside her.

“Can’t…stop.” Madison bent low, her shoulders heaving with the effort to fill her oxygen-starved lungs.

“Breathe,” Reggie ordered, and tapped the miniature headset positioned inside her ear like a hearing aid. “I can think of a hundred friggin' better ways to spend Valentine's Day. ”

“I'd have preferred...chocolates. ”

“Where the hell are Jordan and Mike?”

“It’s…as…if…they disappeared.” Madison sucked in air and gushed, “Ah, shit! I can’t breathe. I don’t know if those guys saw me turn down here, but they can’t be far behind.”

“Then let’s go.” Reggie shot another glance around the corner of the Dumpster. The alley was empty. She waited another second and then grabbed her sister’s hand, pulling her along behind her.

“There!” The shout of one of their pursuers echoed off the brick of the multistory structures rising up from their concrete foundations. The buildings spread over entire blocks, channeling Reggie and Madison through the worst part of Houston, leaving few places to hide or take cover. How had the mission gone south so fast? Where was their backup?

“They’ll catch us at this rate,” Madison shouted between gasps. “Gotta split up.”

“No!” But before Reggie could tighten her grip, her younger sister pulled free and swung left, sprinting west, away from the downtown area.

Reggie glanced back at the group of six men closing in behind her. If she played her hand right, they’d follow her and leave Madison alone. The fastest runner on the team at the Paranormal Investigative Agency, she could outrun every man, except perhaps the boss. Tanner was made of iron and muscles. No one could outrun, out gun or outsmart him.

But if she wanted to live, Reggie had better make it her goal to beat all of his records and then some. She just hoped the hell Madison got away.

Summoning every last ounce of energy, she punched out, running straight for two blocks to ensure the bad boys behind her wouldn’t branch off and pursue her sister. Just as she was about to veer east, a shot rang out and something hard and fast slammed against her left shoulder, spinning her around so quickly she crashed into the brick corner of an office building.

Surprise numbed the pain for the first five seconds until her heart resumed function, kicking her blood through her body and out the ragged exit wound in the front of her shoulder. Her stomach lurched, and the pale glow of the streetlamps dimmed. No. She couldn’t pass out. Not now. Have to run. Have to get farther away from Madison.

As fog crept in around her peripheral vision, Reggie rounded the corner she’d been aiming for and set off at a swift jog, her pace slowing more each time her heels hit the pavement.

No. This couldn’t happen. She would not be another one of the victims she risked her life to protect. No way would the gang members or bloodsuckers take her down as they’d done her father.

Heartless bastards! All of them.

Although Tanner said there were good vamps out there, Reggie had it firmly in her mind that the only good vampire was a dead vampire. She repeated the words like a cadence, motivating her legs to keep pumping and her feet to continue moving away from her attackers.

“The only good vampire is a—” With only half a block between her and the six men, she reached the end of the street and swung a hard right, running into a solid wall of steel. Her forehead made contact and then her chest, knocking what little air was left from her lungs. The force of the collision made her bounce backward, her head snapping up. With no air to sustain breathing and her vision blurred, the ground sucked her downward. As her knees buckled, her mouth completed her sentence. “Dead vampire.”

“I like to think of it as the living dead.” A deep voice with one of those guttural and incredibly sexy foreign accents filled her senses, and strong arms reached out to catch her before she hit the pavement.

Her brain, cloudy from blood and oxygen loss, Reggie was thankful for the strength of the man in front of her. But she had to get away. Those men would catch up and do who knew what to her. How the hell had the ambush they’d set up for the gang turned into a trap for her and Madison? Where was the rest of her team?
The gang had been waiting for them as if they knew she and Madison were the bait and they’d be alone. How had they known? The entire situation stank. Could there be a snitch on the inside at PIA? Would Reggie and Madison end up missing like the thirteen young women to date?


She and Madison weren’t victims. They were the good guys, sworn to catch the filthy scum taking advantage of lone women.

Reggie struggled against the vise grip holding her chest to chest with the stranger. When she tried to right herself, her head swam and her knees refused to engage enough to hold her upright.

“Let me go,” she said with more bravado than conviction that she could stand on her own once released.
He chuckled, his chest vibrating against hers. “If I do, you’ll fall.”

Footsteps rang out on the streets behind her, and her body stiffened. “Let me go!” No matter how strong this guy was, he couldn’t go against six men and hope to win. For that matter, Reggie didn’t know if he wasn’t one of them. Had she run right into the enemy?

The men rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, their leader at the front—Cesar Dominguez, a man Reggie knew from the mug shots on file at the agency and the snake-dragon tattoo on his right arm. He carried a 9mm pistol and had it pointed at the man holding her.

That settled one question in Reggie’s numb mind. Her rescuer wasn’t one of the gang she’d set out to capture. She would have sighed her relief, but she still didn’t know who the hell he was.

Other Authors Participating in Snippet Saturday:

Lauren Dane
Shiloh Walker
Delilah Devlin
Jody Wallace
Shelli Stevens
TJ Michaels
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Felicity Heaton
Eliza Gayle
Caris Roane
Myla Jackson

Saturday, February 02, 2013

Snippet Saturday - Emotion

******Don't Forget BOOTS AND CHAPS is FREE Feb 1-15 ******

Welcome back to the Ugly Stick Saloon!

This short story (5000 words) is the prequel to BOOTS AND BAREBACK published by Samhain Publishing.
A cowboy can't possibly be happy in NYC, can he?
Ella Lang followed her dream to be on stage all the way to New York City, with the approval and support of the love of her life, Jesse O'Brien, a genuine, died-in-the-cowhide Texas cowboy. For months, Jesse has pounded the pavement and has yet to find a job befitting a man used to horses, boots and wide-open spaces. Though it breaks her heart, it's time to cut her lover loose and let him mosey on back to the Rockin' O Ranch, his roots and the family and horse he loves.
Look out Ella, this cowboy has other plans...

Ella Lang stood in the bedroom doorway of her tiny Manhattan apartment, staring at the man she loved more than life.

Jesse James O’Brien lay spread out naked across the sheets. Six feet three inches of muscled cowboy, his feet hanging over the end of the double bed, the most gorgeous specimen of masculinity a woman could ever hope for.

The night had been grueling at the theater. Nothing had gone right. Stage props hadn’t cooperated. Ella had not one, but three, wardrobe malfunctions and missed one of her cues.

Her focus hadn’t been on her performance, so much as on this man, this fish-out-of-water cowboy who had no business moving to New York just because she had.

Hindsight being twenty-twenty, Ella knew she should never have let him come. He belonged in Texas on the Rockin’ O Ranch with his father and brothers and sister, not cooped up in a postage-stamp apartment, searching for work in a city that preferred celebrities over honest, hard-working cowboys.

God, he looked so peaceful, lying sprawled across the bed.

Ella didn’t want to wake him. Instead, she eased around the corner of the bed and entered the tiny bathroom, peeled off her clothes and showered away the residual stage makeup and hairspray that was as much a part of a performer’s life as her voice and acting. She towel-dried her hair and debated slipping into a nightgown or just sleeping naked like Jesse. After only a moment’s hesitation, her pussy growing warm and wet, she opted for naked. She hung the towel on the towel bar and turned to switch off the light. At that moment, she noticed the blue jeans hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

Jesse’s jeans.

She lifted them down and hugged them to her chest, the scent of Jesse and denim reminding her of Texas and the home she’d left to follow her dreams. Visions of wide-open spaces and fields of fresh green hay came to mind, kicking her in the gut with a truckload of homesickness. Refusing to give into the ready tears building in her eyes, Ella folded the jeans over her arm, intent on hanging them in the closet in the bedroom.

Something dropped from one of the pockets and bounced off her foot, causing her to glance down. On the floor beside her lay a tiny box.

Heart thumping, Ella bent to retrieve it, her knees nearly giving way as she realized what it was. The little blue package with a pretty white bow had bold black letters spelling Tiffany & Co written in neat script across the top.
Other Authors Participating in Snippet Saturday:

Lauren Dane
Shiloh Walker
Mari Carr
Delilah Devlin
TJ Michaels
Leah Braemel
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Felicity Heaton
Eliza Gayle
Caris Roane
Myla Jackson

Friday, February 01, 2013

Layla Chase - Images

A landscape of heat waves shimmering off fields of dried withered hay. Slow moving cattle clustered near the shrinking pond or stream. A lone rancher leaning against a weathered barn.

These images were ones I’ve seen on several occasions while driving along Texas back roads. As a writer, I always have a notebook in my purse and jot down striking visuals or descriptions. When I moved away from Texas in mid-2012, the state was in the midst of a bad drought—not the first one experienced in the twelve years I claimed a San Antonio address. The Sunday newspaper ran series of articles relaying information on how hard drought hits the farms and ranches in its path.

When I saw the guidelines for intense short erotic stories for The Edge series, all those images tumbled through my mind and I had my plot.  I remembered the languor of the cattle and had talked with enough long-time residents to know the person who was responsible for those animals would give a lot to keep them alive. Especially if their survival is tied to the viability of her ranch. 

Enter Trixy. A stubborn widow clinging to the hope she can keep her ranch alive by sheer determination finally has to admit she needs help. Her cattle are on the verge of dying of thirst and she has to barter for water rights. Unfortunately, she has history with her neighbor, Garth, the logical person to turn to for this water. His agreement doesn’t come easy and, with a thrill, Trixy realizes she wouldn’t have things any other way.

**********Prize alert***********

I’m giving away a free download of the story to one lucky person who friends my Facebook page (!/ and leaves a comment with their email. Winner to be announced on Sunday, February 3. My hope is you have as much enjoyment reading Setting Boundaries as I had writing it.

Layla Chase