Saturday, January 19, 2013

We're Gonna Make You sWet!

Oh my! Shara Azod has come up with a new erotica line for her brand! sWet is smokin' hot! My contribution, Lawman's Pleasure can be found HERE.

Want to see the trailer? Go HERE.

Marshal Obidiah Matlock could invoke fear into Satan himself being that he wore don't-fuck-with-me better than some women wore stilettos. He was a man to be respected and given a wide berth...Apparently Megan Tully either ignored that bit of information or straight out didn't give a shit. The moment the good Marshal pulls her over for speeding she makes it abundantly clear that she's not afraid of him. And with the sensual curve of her smile and the twinkle in her eyes, she also makes it clear that Obidiah and his handcuffs are more than welcome to follow her home...


Some men were to be feared. Some men were just pure badass motherfucker rolled in a healthy dose of don't-fuck-with-me. Obadiah Matlock was somewhere between the latter and Satan-himself-is-terrified. No one fucked with Marshal Obadiah Matlock. So when the esteemed marshal pulled over the little red convertible, he damned sure didn't expect the chocolate-skinned beauty to have the unmitigated gall to hop out of the car, slamming the door as she did, and meet him halfway. Not only did she display an inappropriate amount of temper, she actually put her hands on her hips and demanded...

"What the fuck did I do wrong this time?"

Yeah, Megan Tully was nothing if not a little spitfire. A man might get used to all those curves and that lush mouth, but the temper had to fucking go.

"You were doing fifty," he replied, arms crossed over his chest, ticket book in hand.


"In a twenty-five."

"Well, who in their right fucking mind made this road a twenty-five? No one has lived here in years and I'm the only person who drives it anymore."

"It's still the law, Ms. Tully."

She looked up at him, eyes narrowing. "Obadiah Matlock, you know very well it's Miss. What's with the 'Ms. Tully' bullshit?"
"I'm about to write you a ticket, Miss Tully. I don't think it's appropriate under the circumstances for me to call you by your first name.

"Wait. You're a fucking Federal Marshal. Why, in Christ's name, are you writing traffic tickets? Isn't that a bit beneath you?"

"The law's the law, ma'am."

"If you ma'am me one more time..."

Obadiah leaned one hip against the side of his Charger. She was right. He'd known Megan since kindergarten. The woman had wreaked havoc with his hormones from the time he'd reached puberty to the present day. Unfortunately, she'd always been just out of reach. Like a couple football fields worth out of reach. Not so much now. The longer he stood there, her looking all pissed off and too sexy for his peace of mind—or the ease of cock—the more he wanted to see just how close they were.

But no. He was a lawman. He didn't use his position to garner favors from women. Not only was it unethical, but with Megan, it might just get him castrated.

Damn if that didn't make him harder than ever.

"I think it's best if you just get back in the car and give me your license and registration." He was going to have to adjust himself soon and he didn't particularly want to do it while she watched. The little vixen would only use it against him and he didn't think he was up to sparring with her too much. In retrospect, he really should have just let her go. She was right, after all. She was the only person living on this street after the housing market crashed. All of the eight other houses were vacant and had been for a long time. But, dammit, he just couldn't resist harassing her just a little bit.

"Look, Obadiah. Why not come over to the house and let's discuss this like the reasonable adults we are. I'll make you a homemade tasty treat and you won't give me a ticket. How does that sound?"

It sounded like torture. And like he was in big fucking trouble.

BUY this book!

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