Just Like a Hero by Patricia Pellicane

SKU 642-978-1-60735-743-8

Now Available!

Lexie loves her apartment. Bright, spacious, and newly remodeled, it is perfect and only a short subway ride from the city. She loves Brooklyn and her job. Lexie even loves her six elderly neighbors who’ve taken it upon themselves to watch over her. If they watch a little too closely, she can’t find fault. After all, they only have her welfare at heart. They’re so cute.

Jim Marino is Lexie’s new neighbor. Jim is a lawyer who works for the District Attorney’s office. Oddly enough, Jim doesn’t think her neighbors are all that cute. In fact he thinks them particularly annoying, especially when he and Lexie have finally gotten down to serious business on his couch, only to find themselves interrupted by firemen knocking down Lexie’s apartment door.

A delightful romance is in the offering, but a greedy landlord’s shenanigans just might bring it all to a murderous end.


PRICE: $3.99
RELEASE DATE: 02/19/14
ISBN: 978-1-60735-743-8
CATEGORY: Contemporary Erotic Romance, Suspense
ELEMENTS: Strong Sexual Content, Explicit Descriptions of Intimacy, Adult Situations, Oral Sex.
LENGTH: Novella
FORMAT: E-BOOK. Zip file includes: PDF, HTML, ePub, PRC and MOBI formats
Regular Price $3.99 Just Like a Hero by Patricia Pellicane


Thursday, March 6, 2014

The Marshal’s Woman
Author: Patricia Pellicane
Publisher: Resplendence
ISBN/BIN: 978-1-60735-707-0
Genre: {M/F}, Contemporary
Rating: 4 Nymphs
Literary Nymphs Reviewer: Amazon Nymph
Liz’s car breaks down, then she lands in the middle of a drug sting. Greg saves her life and is immediately attracted to her. Trying to start a relationship in the middle of finding drug dealers and protecting Liz keeps both off kilter.
The Marshal’s Woman was a fast read that throws readers right into the middle of a life and death struggle. Besides being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Liz is mistaken for someone else. Several ugly truths are also uncovered in the law enforcement arena.
Both Liz and Greg act on their attraction, but Liz wants to slow things down, even as Greg is ready to forge ahead to make things permanent. The chemistry between the two was hot.

Situations in the story are very realistic.The author did some research regarding both the law enforcement side and the drug dealers to get those bits right. Readers can expect lots of action in this story.

The Lure of Lady Sarah by Patricia Pellicane

SKU 595-978-1-60735-686-8

Now Available!

Lady Sarah Butler had taken yet another dare. She swore, she’d never take another. Slipping away from the throng of lust crazed men wasn’t been easy, and just as she reached her carriage, a man appeared at her side, his hand closing around her arm.

Jack Townsend, The Duke of Devonshire’s rage was so intense, he could barely speak. How had his ward found her way into this den of iniquity? In truth, it hardly mattered. Now, he’d get her away from the lusting crowd and finally into his arms.


Buy it at: http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/m8/595-978-1-60735-686-8--the-lure-of-lady-sarah-by-patricia-pellicane.html

Excerpt: 1
The woman disappeared at last into the folds of a billowing curtain. Seconds later, the drapery parted. The men cheered as two naked women moved toward them. The two settled themselves upon the feather tick placed on the stage for their comfort.
How Sarah managed to control the gasp that begged to escape her throat, she’d never know, for without hesitation, they began to cavort in sexual play. Sarah was flabbergasted. Half turned in her effort to escape, she froze in place. Dumbstruck, she couldn’t pull her gaze from the pair. She couldn’t see anything but these two women happily exploring each other’s bodies, both completely at ease in their naked state. Sarah had never seen or heard anything like it. In her innocence, she’d never imagined anything like it, either.
Around her, the men grinned in delight. They hooted and shouted their lust, obviously enjoying the display.
“I have something for you to suck, ladies,” one older gentleman called as one woman licked then sucked at her partner’s breast. “Anytime you’re ready.”
Sarah was no fool. Being an innocent didn’t make her stupid. She knew the man meant something sexual, something depraved, even if she didn’t fully understand his remark.
Her ignorance was quickly overcome as seconds later others added their preferences of where or what they might enjoy being sucked. She might not have been able to fathom such a happening, but as the men clearly stated what they were about, Sarah easily understood their meaning. She couldn’t control a shudder of revulsion.
All watched as one woman slowly and deliberately investigated the private parts of the other, to the roaring delight of the crowd. She pulled at her legs and showed the audience all there was to see and described parts of the female form Sarah had never known to exist. When the woman was positioned between her partner’s widespread legs, she leaned forward and licked the other woman’s most private place. Sarah shivered, and in her horror never thought to hold back the low groan that escaped her throat.
A soft hush, thick with unmitigated hunger, seemed to fill the room. If lust had a scent, Sarah imagined she could smell it. Certainly, she could hear it as nearly every man there began to gasp rapidly. A few moaned softly. She forced aside her disgust as a man across from her reached for his groin.
Sarah’s heart couldn’t have beat harder; her face couldn’t have grown hotter. She was horrified. How had these two plunged to this depth of dishonor? What in the world had happened to cause them to choose this horrendous lifestyle? Thanks in part to the energetic approval of the crowd, the women laughed and continued their investigations. They tickled with fingers and tongues while private parts were displayed for the enjoyment of every witness, save one.
Sarah’s one thought beyond escape was to cover these two women and protect them from their leering audience. Only she couldn’t lest she bring attention to herself. Her one and only choice was to get out of here and do it as fast as possible.

Excerpt: 2
He took Sarah by the waist and half-carried her reluctant form toward a cab that came to a quick stop at his whistle. Moments later, she was comfortably, if less than gently, settled opposite him inside.
It wasn’t until they were moving that he spoke again. “First of all,” he remarked, “the cottage and inheritance are one. You cannot take the money and leave the country.” He shook his head. “It will not be allowed.”
“Does that mean I’m to be chained to the building?”
“Meaning, if I were to travel, who will tell?”
“Certainly, not me,” he assured her. “You can’t leave England fast enough to suit my tastes.”
“Or mine,” she countered with equal enthusiasm.
A moment of silence passed before he asked, “All right, let’s have it. What are you planning to do?”
“The first thing I plan is for you to stop calling me Lady Sarah. You should know I think your titles are ridiculous. Back home, no one is called your lordship or your ladyship. It’s utter nonsense, most particularly since far too many of these so-called lords and ladies are actually the dregs of society.”
Jack pressed his lips together at her remark. His expression told clearly of his agreement with her opinion.
“I’ll never allow anyone to call me Lady.”
“I’d suppose one should become a lady before being called as much. Take that ridiculous wig off.”
Sarah growled her frustration as she tore the white wig away and used it to wipe away the gray powder that had covered her cheeks, hinting at a beard. Her hair bounced free, beyond her shoulders, long, black and shiny, as curly as a gypsy’s. “You’re disgusting.”
“Am I? Why? Because, I promised your grandmother I’d take her little hooligan for a ward? Because I’ve been stuck with a wildcat who’d just as easily climb a tree than hostess one of my dinners? A ruffian who hasn’t a notion as to how to act in polite society?”
“You just said I can easily host your dinners. I suppose that makes me capable of managing polite society. Besides, I’m not interested in your society, polite or otherwise. And judging by what I saw tonight, polite is the last thing I’d infer of any Englishman, especially you,” she said, her tone thick with scorn.
Sarah frowned. Something was wrong. Her chest felt tight with an unnamed pain. He’d been there. He’d come to watch those awful women. And she’d thought someone like him wouldn’t…wouldn’t…
Sarah shook aside the thought along with the pain and disappointment. She was a fool to have thought better of him. He was a man like any other, and she was pathetic if she imagined anything else.
“You show clearly how the women in ‘your’ country behave, I think. Indeed, England should be happy to see you go. You’d fit well, no doubt, among the uncivilized rabble into which you were born.”
Sarah gritted her teeth. His last remark made exceedingly clear the differences between

this no-account, pretentious English lord and her. She’d taken all the snobbery she could.

To her own amazement, she suddenly charged him, diving heedlessly from her seat.

“Rabble is it? I’ve had enough of you and your arrogance. Enough of you and England.

I’m not waiting for my sister to marry. I’m leaving here tonight.”

Jack muttered in surprise as two clean slaps landed, one far too close to his eye. “Damn you,” he grunted as he fought to capture her hands and forced them behind her back. “You have my ear ringing.”
Sarah hadn’t a notion as to how she’d managed to end up on his lap, her legs on each side of his thighs. She was gasping, her teeth clenched as she struggled to free herself. She grimaced with the effort, telling clearly her frustration. “Let me go. God, I hate you,” she gasped, her heart pounding at their sudden proximity. She frowned as the words echoed in the following stillness. They weren’t true. She didn’t hate him and couldn’t imagine why she’d said such a thing.
They were so close; barely inches separated their mouths. Every intake of breath filled her with his scent. She couldn’t resist the debilitating results as a hammering attacked her brain. An ache filled her stomach while thunder raged in her blood. God, she didn’t want this. Whatever had possessed her to rush him, to strike him? No one had to tell her she’d only find trouble in this man’s arms.
With a shake of her head she forced aside the thought. It wasn’t true. He was only a man. There was nothing he could do to upset her so.
Then why was she?
Again, she shook her head. Lord, but she had to gain some control. She had to think. The trouble was she couldn’t think. Not now, not with the hard feel of him against her. Not with the sudden insane need for him to hold her even closer, a need that pulsed through every fiber of her being. A sob unexpectedly broke the silence, startling them both, and she never thought to stop her impulsive words. “I hate that you watched them,” Again, there was a catch in her breath. “That you saw them. I hate—”
He gave her a hard shake. “Saw what?”
Her dark eyes grew to slits of rage as she scoffed, “Those women. What do you think? The velvet drapery?”
He blinked in obvious surprise and seemed to think for a moment. One hand held hers, while the other reached up and grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her face closer to his. He studied her closely. “Why, Sarah?” he asked softly, with something like hope shading his voice. “Why do you hate that I saw them?”
Her breathing grew more uneven as she struggled to bring some space between them, but he would allow no movement. Determinedly, he pulled her closer still. Holding her tightly against him, he asked again, “Why? Tell me.”
She didn’t know why. There was no way she could tell him when she didn’t know. Sarah only shook her head in refusal.
“Shall I tell you then? Shall I tell you, you have feelings for me? That you’re jealous that another might, even for a moment, hold my attention?”
“Total nonsense,” she said. “What care have I who holds your attention?” she asked in a tone as haughty as any of the elite she professed to despise. She struggled to pull away. His arms were like iron, and no matter her efforts, they never gave an inch. “They were disgusting, and you…” she gasped as her voice broke, her heart threatening to jump from her chest. She strove for control. “I thought…I thought…” She shook her head as her voice cracked. “You’re equally disgusting. Let me go.”
“What did you think?” He gave her an impatient shake. “Tell me.”
“I thought you were better than that.”
He smiled at her innocence. “Did you? You didn’t think I’m a man and bound to look if a woman stands before me naked?”
She raised her jaw. “Like I said, you’re disgusting.”
“For looking?” he asked with some surprise. “I wonder why?”


PRICE: $2.99
RELEASE DATE: 08/07/13
ISBN: 978-1-60735-686-8
CATEGORY: Historical Erotic Romance, Regency
ELEMENTS: Adult Content, Adult Language, Explicit Descriptions of Intimacy.
FORMAT: E-BOOK. Zip file includes: PDF, HTML, ePub, PRC and MOBI formats
Regular Price $2.99The Lure of Lady Sarah by Patricia Pellicane



Patricia Pellicane

A contemporary erotic romance


Released August 2, 2010

Could they survive the pain only those who love deeply can know?
She hated him beyond measure. After a year of torturous separation her feelings had only grown in strength. When would he leave? She couldn’t allow him to know her most carefully guarded secret. She couldn’t allow him to ever know.
He was tired of waiting for her to come to her senses, to return to him, to realize she’d made a mistake. She was the love of his life, he was taking what she refused to give. Fight him or not, she was his and was always going to be only his.

How much are you paying him?”
She pulled back and narrowed her gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“Is he an escort?”
“Would it soothe your ego if he were?” She laughed, partly in shock at his accurate guess and partly to cover her sudden nervousness. “What’s the matter, Rick? Is he too handsome? You really are obnoxious, aren’t you? I’m not allowed to have an attractive boyfriend, but you can show off a harem of bimbos. Where do you get them? Sluts R Us? Don’t they have any with less than a double D cup?”
Rick grinned. “Is that what you think they are? Bimbos? I’ll have you know Tracey is a very nice girl.”
Jackie wiggled her brows in unhappy sarcasm. “I’ll bet.”
“You want to know how nice?”
“No, I don’t want to know how nice,” she repeated nastily. “I don’t want to talk about her or you for that matter.”
“How very Jackie of you.”
She pulled back just a bit and frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means just as long as you get to say what you please, there’s never a need to hear another’s side of the argument, is there?”
“What other side?”
He glared down at her, his gaze narrowing in anger. “You know what other side.”
She stiffened. “If you insist on talking about this, I’m leaving you on the floor.”
“Fine, we won’t talk. We won’t do anything but dance.” Jackie easily read the anger in his dark gaze. She didn’t care. He could rage at her from now until forever and she still wouldn’t care.

She wanted to pull out of his embrace and run, but to do so would tell him this meant more to her than it should. There was no way she would show this liar the slightest bit of weakness. As far as she was concerned, he was a nonentity, and she felt nothing towards him.
“There’s no point in trying to be romantic. You said yourself this is only a dance.”
“I love the way you smell.”
“Do you? You mean I smell better than Monica? How has she been, by the way?”
Rick stiffened as the mention of the woman. “Damn, but you really are a bitch, aren’t you?”
She glanced up, her gaze hard with hate. “It’s ‘a fucking bitch’, if I remember correctly.”
“Fine,” he said, knowing she referred to their last argument, the hateful things that were said. The frustration he’d known the night she’d left him, the first night in an endless year of curses. He moved her deeper into the crowded dance floor. Bodies swayed smoothly around them, enclosing them in almost total darkness.
Her head pounded; a pulse throbbed in her throat as his mouth lowered to her cheek. She took a deep calming breath. Her lips tingled. She needed to feel his mouth on hers. She strove to keep her gasping breath as smooth and silent as possible. She felt like crying as she struggled to breathe, while he hadn’t done anything more than brush his lips against her skin in whispery soft promises of pleasure. His mouth lowered again. Now his lips grazed the edge of her mouth. She wanted to turn into the kiss. God, she wanted it more than she wanted to live, but she somehow managed to keep to her control.
“Have you fucked lately, Jackie?” he asked on a low, warm breath. “Has your man been taking care of you?”
“What do you care?”
His hand on her hip slipped down her leg, around the front of her, between their bodies, inside her thigh and up. Under her short skirt, in the near total blackness of the dance floor, his hand moved higher. She didn’t stop him. She didn’t even try. He needed to know nothing he did could make a difference. Higher. His fingers moved higher and higher again.
Under her skirt, inside the tiny wisp of panties she wore, her pussy felt heavy, aching and soaking wet. She trembled with the need she knew for his touch, she was hotter than she could ever remember. Every nerve ending screamed for more, straining towards the coming pleasure. Pleasure only he knew how to give. His hand was inches from her heat. Inches from touching her, inches from where she wanted most to be touched. She forced back the moan that threatened.
Bodies pressed close. No one could see them, and they saw no one as they watched only each other. Eyes glittered with raw emotion, hate, anger, betrayal but most of all lust, a desperate want, until finally his fingers reached under the leg of her panties.
He groaned and closed his eyes in pleasure at the warm creaminess he found, while her knees trembled almost buckling beneath her. She reached an arm around his neck, her cheek against his chest and held on. This was going to be wild. She knew it and hadn’t the power to stop it.
He held her tightly with one arm, while the other under her skirt explored the folds of her body and centred at last upon her clit. “I love it when you cream for me, Jackie.”
“It’s not for you. It’s you and a hundred others.”
She felt his body tense against hers as he asked, “Has there been a hundred, Jackie?”
She hissed a low sound that was almost lost in the music surrounding them, even as she glared her hatred. He had some nerve. How did he dare to question her after all the women he’d been with?
What he was doing meant nothing. They both knew it meant nothing. He had no right to question her. He was a man, and she’d been too long without. It was as simple as that.
She wouldn’t turn away. He couldn’t make her turn away. It had been a year since he’d touched her last. A year of loneliness and pain, but she wasn’t about to whimper, to cry, to beg this liar, this cheat for more. “I don’t know. I never counted.”
God, why couldn’t other men feel like this? Why couldn’t they touch her like this? Why didn’t they smell like this? How did he alone have the power? It had been a year, but had it been ten she knew not one could do the things this man could. Damn him, damn his lying, cheating soul to hell.
Again his mouth brushed against the edge of her lips. “Just a kiss, Jackie. No one will ever know.”
“You will.”
“What? What will I know? Will I know you want me if you kiss me? Is that it? Is that what you’re afraid I’ll find out?”
She didn’t respond.
“I already know it, Jackie. I know you want me.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t. Wanting isn’t love so don’t get your balls in an uproar.”
Rick grinned. “If I promise not to get my balls in an uproar, will you kiss me?”

Heat Wave
Patricia Pellicane
An historical erotic romance
Release Date, 7/14/2010 by Resplendence Publishing
Buy it at http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
Trying to find a scrap of her usual confidence and control she took a deep breath. It was a mistake. In taking that breath she’d inhaled his scent. It sent a shiver down her spine and despite her best intentions, left her weak with longing. God, had a man ever smelled like this, so clean, so deeply dark and mysterious? He was moving closer, leaning over her, allowing her no personal space. She knew what he was about, knew what he wanted and cursed the fact that he wasn’t about to be denied. Knowing in her heart, from the first moment she saw him, she wanted the same. “Jeb,” she almost pleaded, “it can’t happen this fast. We only met this afternoon.”
He gave the slightest shake of his head in disagreement “You know it can happen this fast. It has.” Again he moved, his hips against her belly forced her to lean back from her waist, a rough knuckle under her chin forced her gaze to meet his
. “Look at me, Lilly. Tell me you don’t want this.”
She groaned a helpless, “Damn you,” as her body, with a mind of its own, moved into his arms. Her hands slid up his chest and circled his neck, pulling at him, aching to touch him, to know the heat of him, the strength of sinew and muscle beneath his shirt and vest. Their lips met with a wild surge of unadulterated, mindless lust. She moaned, her senses boggled at the warmth and shivered at the pleasure of touching her mouth to his, of feeling the strength of thick arms engulf her, lifting her, bringing her tightly against his hard frame. It was beyond her wildest imaginings. Had she ever wanted, or needed a man like this?
It was madness and she didn’t care. She tried to gain control of her thoughts, her senses. Nothing could be this good. She was sure she was imagining more to it than there actually was. Only she wasn’t. It was this good. It was exactly this good.
Lilly knew she’d never before suffered anything like it. He murmured something, and she frowned unable to make out the words above the pounding of her heart, the roar of blood in her ears. He tasted so good, like rich coffee and a distant trace of good whiskey. He smelled delicious, dark and clean, like fresh air, like leather, like a man. She tightened her hold, pressing herself closer, unable to bring him close enough, unable to touch him enough, breathe him enough. God, but she had to have more. She had to have all he could give her.
He might have initiated this encounter, but she was now the aggressor as she coated his lips with her tongue, teasing, taunting them to part. And when they did she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and knew a nearly devastating bone-melting moment as she savored his own special taste.
“Easy, sweetheart, easy,” he murmured into her mouth, against her cheek, her throat, her neck. He sat her on the edge of the sink and with his hands under her skirt pulled away her drawers. He spread her legs wide to fit his hips between them. After adjusting her slightly they both groaned as he pressed her firmly against his rigid erection. She was gasping for every breath. Her head fell back as his hands moved over her. A moment later her bodice came undone and she knew a moment’s surprise as she wondered vaguely how he’d managed the chore. She never felt his fingers at the back of her dress. His whiskered cheeks and jaw rubbed against her soft flesh and had the house fallen around them, she wouldn’t have noticed. She felt nothing, knew nothing but the deliciousness of his mouth, tongue and teeth moving over her sensitive skin. Her dress and chemise slipped over her shoulders, trapping her arms to her sides, exposing her breasts to his dark, hungry gaze. Nothing could be heard above the harshness of their combined breathing, the rush of her blood, the pounding of her heart. No words were exchanged, none were needed. He looked at her for a long moment before he gave up some inner struggle and with a groan his mouth latched itself to her softness. She hissed through clenched teeth an indrawn breath at the unexpected heat of him, at sensations that rocked her senses. Setting her aflame, his mouth was like fire, a raging inferno. She’d just been kissing that mouth and she hadn’t realized exactly how hot it had been until he took her breast into its depth.
Lilly forgot she was in the kitchen, forgot the distinct possibility that someone might come upon them. And had she remembered wouldn’t have cared. Dazed and lost in the moment, in her need, she couldn’t think beyond more, she only wanted more.
His fingers were under her skirt, penetrating her softness. Two fingers three, she groaned at the pleasure. “More,” she murmured amid gasping breaths. “I need more.” And he gave her more. He gave her a great deal more. Lilly would never know how she didn’t scream her pleasure as his rapidly moving hand brought her almost instantly to a near ferocious climax. She almost frowned as she realized she’d just growled.
Eyes closed, gasping still for every breath she felt him pull slightly away. Their gazes met and locked. His filled with masculine satisfaction that he had so easily brought her this pleasure, hers, growing slightly annoyed, even as she freely admitted, “I want you. All of you.”
Hot, wet and ready for him she heard his warm chuckle turn into a groan that resembled agony as he slid deep into her heat. “God, Lilly, God, this is so…”
She moaned in return. “I know,” she breathed on a choppy sigh and then a strangled groan, “I know.”


He played for endless moments at her breasts.
“God, I love these,” he murmured as he pushed the soft flesh together, and Lilly almost cried out her pleasure as he sampled the tips at last, sampled them until she thought she might go mad. “I wish I could do this all day.”
She wished he could to but thought it best if she didn’t say as much. She was breathless with need when she managed, “I’d loan you one, but they don’t come off.”
His head rose from her, and he grinned into her intense gaze. “Too bad. A man would surely love it if he were able to suck or lick one of these like he might a piece of candy.”
Lilly was having a time of it controlling the need to have him suck her again. She pushed her chest toward him and allowed the slightest shiver. “Don’t lose your train of thought.”
“Right,” he said as he again got down to business. His mouth once more at her softness sucked her deep into a furnace of heat. Moments later, he sipped first at one tip then the other, and she squirmed and shivered beneath the tormenting pleasure. Finally, he bit her, hard. And her world spun wildly out of control. There was no way to stop it. In truth, she hadn’t known she was this close to release. It was like walking a mountain trail and, suddenly, without warning falling over its side. The moment he bit her, she lost the last of her control, and with no warning, she came. Her cry was muffled beneath his hand, and she never realized she sucked two of his fingers into her mouth.
He waited for her to gain control of her breathing before asking, “So biting does it for you?”
“I never…” She couldn’t quite get to the bottom of her breath. “I don’t know.”
He smiled. “I reckon I do.”
“Don’t gloat.” She glared in return. “Anyone could have done it.”
He laughed. “Except no one ever did before.” He laughed again at her look of warning. “Want to try that one more time?”
“Maybe later.”
“I reckon about now you’d be wantin’ my mouth in other interesting places.”
“I reckon it wouldn’t hurt none if you shut up.”
He grinned. “You get me all hot and bothered when you’re nasty, Miss Lilly. I wouldn’t want to miss anything here, just ‘cause I lost control.”
“God,” she gasped, as he returned to her breasts to nuzzle and nibble and kiss and lick. She was about to lose her mind when at last, thank you God, his mouth moved lower.

Patricia Pellicane

buy it at www.total-e-bound.com

release date July 5th

When a lady sunbathes topless, she's apt to attract one delicious man.

After finding a lusciously tempting man in her backyard, hard-working Maggie thought it just might be time for a little R&R.

Jeremiah's company was contracted to renovate a beautiful old mansion. Only when the time came to look the property over, he found something even better. The gorgeous lady sunbathed topless, a definite plus in any man's book.

The attraction between them was instant and powerful, the sex incredible. But something dangerous threatens this incredible love-affair. A danger so great it could jeopardise their very lives.


He was slowly backing her up. Once her back was against the counter his eyes widened in supposed surprise and he smiled. “Look at this.”
“What?” she asked, unsure as to what he was referring.
“I sort of have you trapped.”
Maggie smiled. His hands held to the counter one of each side of her hips, blocking her from moving and yet she felt not the least bit threatened. Still, she couldn’t say she felt comfortable. The truth of the matter being she was all too aware of the man and couldn’t hold back an uncharacteristic shudder. The attraction she felt was damn near overwhelming. God, but she’d never known anything like it and wondered how she managed to control the need she knew to push him to the floor and climb on that gorgeous body. “It looks like you do.” She could only hope he didn’t notice the slight tremble in her voice.
He lowered his head a fraction and nuzzled her hair at her temple. “You smell gorgeous.”
Gorgeous, she silently mused. Now there was a word she been thinking on for a bit. “It’s the sun screen.”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s you.” He whispered his mouth skimming over her cheek, her jaw and then her lips, leaving them sensitive and aching for him to complete the kiss. “Did I ever tell you I’m an expert at smelling?”
Maggie amazed herself at the sound of a girlish giggle. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. “Is that because you smell or because you’re able to smell?”
He grinned. “Did I ever tell you I’m intrigued by wise-ass women?”
“It seems you have a lot of things to tell me.”
He nodded in agreement. “I do and it could take me some time.”
She moaned as his mouth brushed over her skin where her shoulder and neck met. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s too soon.”
“I know. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before,” he said on a soft sigh as he continued to nuzzle just under her ear.
She didn’t believe a word he said and it couldn’t have mattered less. “We should stop.”
“I know,” he agreed on a low groan. “Now?”
“In a minute,” she said enjoying the movement of his mouth and the graze of his whiskered jaw more than she could say. And then she smiled again at his low wicked laughter.
Excerpt #2
. “Should I do it now?”
“Any time you’re ready.”
He’d barely said the words and she reached for the clasp at her throat that held her ankle length, silky dress in place. He hardly had time to gasp before it suddenly crumpled at her feet and was carelessly kicked away, leaving her wearing only a thong. He swallowed. A black lacey thong that barely covered anything at all. He swallowed again. “God,” he managed on a gasp before she moved to the bar, turning her back to him, showing him exactly what it did not cover and clicked the radio on very low. And then she stood before him, swaying to the music.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked his voice low and gravelly.
She nodded.
He came to his feet and nearly tore his shirt in an effort to get it off. “Did I ever tell you this is my favorite way to dance?”
“Nope. You never did, but I think I heard it somewhere.”
He laughed. “Well, you heard exactly right.”
“What do you like about it?” she asked as she shimmied closer to him and then away.
He groaned as he watched her breasts tremble and shiver seductively before him. “I like watching a lady dance topless.”
“Only I’m not topless. I just don’t have anything on except for this thong.” She reached under the material and snapped the elastic against her hip.
Understanding her meaning he managed on a shuddering breath, “You’re right. You certainly are not topless.” He smiled in appreciation of that fact. “Thank God.” He swallowed the last of his drink and dropped his glass next to hers on the bar. “Come closer.”
“If I come closer will you touch me?”
His eyes were dark with longing, even as a smile teased his lips. “I could be persuaded to touch you.”
“And what else would you do?”
“Anything you want.”
“Anything? Are you sure?”
“My heart is pounding so hard I can hardly talk, but I’m sure.”
“So if I came closer you’d make me an ice cream sundae?”
He laughed. “Yes.”
“Vanilla with chocolate syrup?”
“Put your hands behind your back. You have to promise not to touch me and I’ll come closer.”
Jeremiah did as he was told.
Maggie shimmied up to him, rubbed herself all over his chest and stomach and then moved away. “Did you like that?”
“Ah, Jesus,” he gasped breathless.
“Don’t hold your breath. I don’t want you to faint.”
He grinned. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to need you in a few minutes.”


Tell Me You Love Me PRINT


Patricia Pellicane
Is his love enough for them to overcome her hatred?

When Kiya Harrison found herself safe and secure and nearly naked in his arms while in the midst of a raging storm, she was soon to learn that passions inside could easily match elements gone berserk beyond the small cabin.

Matthew Chase had found the one for him, but could he convince this wilful, luscious woman to put aside her prejudices. Would she ever admit to loving him?

By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.
If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
Copyright © Patricia Pellicane 2010
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Buy it at www.total-e-bound.com/

England, 1814

Thunder crashed overhead. Anything that wasn’t tied down swirled wildly around them. A huge branch had already hit her. Matt hurried his pace as he carried an unconscious Kiya inside the small cabin, surprised to find it empty. Apparently, the men who guarded her father’s sheep were tending their flock lest the storm frighten the animals into dashing off the nearby cliffs.

A fire burned in the large, black stove, warming the little cabin against outside elements gone suddenly insane. A table, two chairs and a small bed filled the tiny shelter, leaving almost no floor space.

Matt placed her upon the rumpled bed. She was soaking wet, her lips blue. He hadn’t a doubt if left as such, despite the warmth of the room, she’d soon take chill. There was nothing to be done for it, and with no further thought on the matter, he set out to quickly dispose of the lady’s clothes. It took some effort, but he managed to keep his gaze mostly averted—mostly but not entirely.

His heart pounded, and his hands shook. His lips thinned to a tight grimace resembling pain and a fine sheen of sweat added to his already wet frame as he managed at last to tug a blanket over her, leaving her in her frilly drawers and lacy chemise, both of which were nearly as transparent as gauze when wet.

Granted, he’d known his share of women, but this one confirmed his previous imaginings and then some. She was even lovelier than he had supposed. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her skin glowed with a delicate lustre as if cut from porcelain, while full pink lips almost exactly matched the soft colour of her cheeks.

Her hair when dry was a riot of yellow and silver curls. While riding she had lost most of her pins and curly confection swirled wildly behind her in the wind. Unrestrained, those wild locks reached to her waist.

Matt forced aside his reaction to the sight of her near nakedness. He hadn’t meant to look. Indeed, he had not looked as he might have liked.

Thankful for something that took his mind from the woman and her all too vulnerable state, he tore a piece of cotton from her petticoat, pumped water and applied the wet rag to the swelling on her forehead. The flying branch had not broken her skin but had left a small, red mark above a growing knot. She’d suffer some discolouration, perhaps even a black eye, but hopefully nothing more serious than that.

Matt hung her wet clothes over a chair near the stove. As he waited for the lady to awaken, he pumped more water into a kettle and set it upon the stove. Moments later, he washed out the tea pot and cups left on the table. Next he searched for towelling. Finding none, he took a pillow sheet, flipped it inside out and pressed the linen cloth to her wet hair, drying what he could. It was important that she not take a chill. Had he not been so absorbed in her and their earlier conversation, he would have noticed sooner the coming storm. He should have, and because he hadn’t, he felt some responsibility for her injury.

After a time, he coaxed, “Kiya, wake up,” and then repeated it again in a deep voice that allowed no option.

She moaned softly. “Go away.”

He grinned. “You need to wake up.”

“No, I don’t.”

She’d taken a blow to her head. She did need to wake up. “I’ve tea ready.”

For the first time, Kiya realised she was in bed, while talking to a man. She opened her eyes with a frown and was surprised to find herself in a strange cabin. “Where are we? What are we doing here?”

“We were caught in the storm, remember?”

“Oh,” she said as the memory came. Her head ached, and she reached a hand to the injury. “I got hit with—”

“A branch, I know. I saw it,” he interrupted as he looked at her eyes. “No real damage done, I think. You’ve a small lump over your eye. Does it hurt much?”

Kiya thought that question particularly ridiculous. She glared her annoyance and returned with, “Only when I breathe.”

Matt grinned. She was a sarcastic little brat but the most beautiful he’d ever come across. “Here. Hold this wet cloth to the swelling. I’ll get the tea.”

A moment later, he stripped off his soaked shirt and hung it near the stove beside clothes that looked just like hers.

Kiya’s heart began to beat far harder and faster than it should have, drastically hampering her ability to breathe. He’d taken off his shirt. Just what did he think he was doing?

“Excuse me,” she said then asked, “What are you doing?”

He glanced behind him and frowned. Was the blow taken harder than he’d first imagined? “Getting the tea, remember?”

“And you can only do that while half dressed?”

Matt glanced at his bare chest and grinned. “Our clothes are wet.”

Kiya stared at him a long moment before she mouthed the word ‘our’ and then slowly came to a sitting position just as she lowered her gaze to her own chest. Changing positions allowed the blanket to fall to her waist. She gasped at the sight. She might as well have been naked! Good God in heaven! She jerked the blanket tightly to her neck. “Are you insane? What have you done?”

“You couldn’t stay in those wet clothes without taking a chill. They had to come off.”

“Oh my God,” she moaned softly, unable to raise her gaze to his. Kiya had no doubt the man had had himself a good look while going about the business of disrobing her. She couldn’t meet his gaze. If the beast dared smile her way, she was apt to kill him on the spot. “And you took them off?” she asked her voice barely above a whisper, clearly aghast at the thought.

He didn’t bother to respond. Both of them knew what had happened. No one else was here.

She moaned softly her embarrassment.

“There’s no need to distress yourself. I covered you as quickly as I could.”

“Indeed?” she snapped and asked in disbelief, “And how quickly was that?”

Matt chuckled softly at her nasty comment, his eyes sparkling dark with something Kiya couldn’t name, something mysterious and frightening, something that caused a chill to race up her spine. “Shall I tell you I didn’t look?”

Kiya’s cheeks burned.

“I promise you I didn’t.” And the words were almost true. A glance couldn’t count as a look, could it?

His statement did little to ease her suffering. That combined with a god-awful headache left her in something less than a good mood. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been half so mortified. Very softly and with hardly a tremor at all, she said, “My father has pistols in his library. When we get back, I’m going to shoot you.”

“Are you?” he smiled, knowing a stab of almost overwhelming tenderness at her obvious suffering. “I have pistols as well, you know?”

“I don’t care.” Her eyes suddenly and unexplainably filled with tears. Her head was killing her, and this beast was making it hurt all the more.

“Don’t cry, Kiya.” He crouched before her, taking her hand in his. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I couldn’t leave you wet.” His thumb wiped away a lone tear as it travelled down her cheek. “Your lips were blue, your skin as cold as ice. Suppose you took a chill and died? It would have been my fault.”

Matt never imagined his actions would have caused this lady such distress. Of course, he hadn’t undressed many true ladies, so he couldn’t have known how one might react at finding herself, all but for a meagre wisp of lace, naked before a man who was not her husband.

Kiya pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her face against them. She had a raging headache. No doubt that was the main cause of her unusual lack of self-control. No doubt, she was making far too much of this unseemly situation. It was his fault. Even though the man had done what he’d deemed to be right at the time, it was more than his actions. It was the man himself. It was the way he looked at a woman—in this case herself-as if he could see things no one else could, as if he knew her innermost secrets. His gaze most always left her jittery and oddly nervous. She’d never suffered these effects at another’s glance. Why so his? Kiya couldn’t imagine. She only knew she’d feel ever so much better if he would simply attach himself to another and leave her in peace.

She fought for control and, after a few minutes, raised her face from her knees and looked him in the eye. “First of all, I never cry,” she said, belying the tears that were only now drying. “Second, don’t call me Kiya. Third, thank you for your help.” She choked a bit on that one but managed the words just the same. “And fourth I’d like some tea, if you please.”


Heat Flash


Patricia Pellicane

An Historical Erotic Romance

Released March 30, 2010 by Resplendence Publishing

Buy it at http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/

Vinnie never considered her nakedness as she reached for her gun. She grunted at nearly crushing weight of him as he’d slammed into her, spun her around and fell full length upon her. Heavier than a boulder, he squashed her almost flat. She couldn’t breathe.
This monster was going to kill her, and she couldn’t manage enough of a breath to call for help. Damn this brute to hell. Maybe she was going to die, but she wasn’t going to leave this world without a fight. She swung at him, her hand curled into fists. She grunted in pain as he blocked her swing just before she would have contacted with the side of his face. A second later, both her hands were pulled tightly over her head. She tried to kick him; she bucked her hips beneath him in an effort to throw him off. Nothing. He was heavier than the earth and equally as hard. He had to know she couldn’t breathe; her strangled gasps and soft desperate grunts were enough to tell even the most simple-minded that she was in serious trouble. But did he care? Obviously, he did not.
Suddenly, he pulled away, just enough to allow her a lungful of air. Their gazes locked for an instant before his mouth came crashing over hers and what would have been a scream became little more than a moan, lost in the warmth of his mouth.
She gasped in his breath. It didn’t matter. Her starving lungs cared not. Her heart pounded wildly. It didn’t matter that he tasted of clean skin, of fresh air, of warm coffee, a distant hint of whiskey, of man. It wasn’t that he tasted good, of course. A man who broke in couldn’t possible taste good, could he? Didn’t one have to love a man, or at the very least like him, before enjoying his kisses. Well, of course, she wasn’t enjoying his kisses. Good grief! Besides, they both knew he wasn’t really kissing her. The only reason his mouth covered hers was to quiet her screams. And if he was more gentle than most, it mattered not in the least. Liking this man or his kisses bore no consideration. She didn’t know him, therefore, she couldn’t honestly say she liked anything about him. Still, she knew one thing. She most certainly did not like his kisses.
Then why wasn’t she crying, begging him to stop, pleading for mercy?
She did none of those things. Even her struggles had ceased. Why? Because there was no need. In truth, he posed no real threat. He wasn’t the madman who had killed her husband. He was the man from the bathhouse and there was nothing threatening in his kiss.
She’d stop him in a minute. All she had to do was wait for him to lift his head, to gasp for a breath of air and she’d scream the house down. She wouldn’t have to wait much longer. She was sure she wouldn’t. Any minute now, she’d get that chance.
In the meantime, it couldn’t hurt if she relaxed. After all, she gained nothing but aching muscles if she remained tense. Once he noticed she was calmer, he’d raise his head. She was positive he would.
Only he didn’t.
The oddest thing happened. Even as she swore it to be impossible, Vinnie’s breath caught in her throat and her heart pounded. Granted it was already pounding with fright, but this…this was something different. It pounded still, and she couldn’t honestly say why.
She forgot her insistence that it couldn’t be so and silently admitted he did taste good. Odd, despite her wild and extreme emotions, she had the sense to realize this man certainly knew what to do with his mouth, especially when that mouth touched a woman’s.
Vinnie couldn’t remember ever being kissed like this. It was more than lips, more than a brush of his tongue. It went deeper than that, far more intimate. It tantalized as it involved all of him, his touch, his taste, his breath, just the right amount of pressure. It was all of that yet nothing she could name.
“More,” he muttered. “Give me more.”
She frowned as she listened to his softly uttered demand and frowned again as she realized she was unable to maintain any resistance, any thought beyond the taste of his mouth and the sensations that mouth caused her. Something was wrong, yet she couldn’t, for the moment, understand what that might be. She forgot to be afraid, forgot to fight and forgot to think. And none of it mattered. Nothing mattered but the feel of him, the delicious roughness of his clothes against her nakedness, the smell of him and the taste of his mouth. Nothing was more important than her sudden need for more.
finish what he’d






BUY IT AT www.totalebound.com/

She stumbled upon shelter at last, only to discover a night of ecstasy.

He eagerly anticipated an erotic night of debauchery when the most adorable birthday present he'd ever known stumbled soaking wet upon his doorstep. She claimed to be lost. He thought she was perfect and whatever his friend paid for her it wasn't nearly enough. She was beyond delicious and he eagerly joined her in her game of pretended innocence, realising she only caused his pleasure to intensify with every innocent look sent his way.

Too late he came to realising she played no game. Too late he knew her for the adorable creature she really was. The love of his life. A love that had cleverly escaped him. Would he find her again? Would he ever know the thrill of her sweet kisses, the touch of her soft skin and the magic of her devastating kiss?


Jack groaned. Lovely wasn’t the half of it. This woman was damn near perfect. The best he’d ever known, and he’d known his share. Her mouth was clean, her breath warm and sweet, slightly scented with brandy and a distant hint of toothpowder. Her skin smelled of soap, of fresh air, with a tantalising trace of expensive perfume and her own special darkly, sweet scent. The combination was ambrosia, an exquisite treat for the senses. She caused his heart to pound, his mind to swim with the look, feel and smell of her. Jack couldn’t remember a woman who’d left him so enthralled. And whatever Mike had paid for her, it wasn’t near enough. He moved turning his head, trying for another approach, beyond eager to sample all he could. And in turning, he managed at last to push her lips apart.
“Oh,” she murmured against him, smiling as he increased his efforts to deepen the kiss. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
She laughed at his response. “But you’re not. It feels like you’re eating my mouth.”
“I’m trying to.”
“But you shouldn’t. That’s not a kiss.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No, silly,” she said. “People don’t open their mouths when they kiss.”
He smiled. “Don’t they? You mean I’m doing it wrong?”
“I’m afraid you are.”
Jack could hardly hold back his laughter as he played along. “If I’m doing it wrong, maybe you should show me how to kiss.”
“It’s very simple, really. You just press your lips against mine.”
“And that’s it?”
She smiled and confirmed with a quick nod that brought on a groan that caused her to stagger. “I’m dizzy.” She blinked trying to refocus and answered at last with, “That’s it.”
“Perhaps you should show me. Just so I’ll know exactly what you mean.”
Without further entreaty, she lifted her face and pressed her mouth against his.
Her kiss was sweet beyond belief, which was exactly the problem. One could carry this sweet act a bit far. And Jack thought it had gone on long enough. “That was very nice,” he said as she pulled away at last. “Let me try it.”
And he did, but opened his mouth just a bit even as he allowed hers to remain closed.
“It makes your heart beat very fast, doesn’t it?”
Jack smiled. “It does,” he gasped breathlessly. “Let’s do it again.”
Meg smiled sweetly and neither accepted nor rejected his suggestion.
Jack kissed her again, allowing her to control the kiss for a time, but subtly, slowly began to move his mouth over hers, forcing her lips to part, testing her taste with his tongue as it delved just inside her lips, to tickle and soothe, to leave her shaken and, like himself, gasping for breath.
“You’re doing it again,” she breathed as their mouths parted.
“Was I?”
“Do you always kiss like this?”
Jack gave a soft sigh. “Are you sure you don’t like it?”
“Well, it’s not that I don’t like it, exactly.”
”Do you mean you might like it?”
“I’m not sure. It does make you breathless, doesn’t it? It makes my stomach…” She frowned and then shrugged, “I don’t know but it’s doing something to my stomach. That’s odd, don’t you think?” She gave a low girlish giggle. “That’s another thing no one ever told me.”
“That kissing would feel this good.”
Jack groaned, his mouth nuzzling the warmth of her neck. “God, I can’t believe you’re here.”
Meg sighed happily, innocently and said, “I can’t believe it either.”
Things were getting out of hand. He didn’t want to rush her. He needed to back off some and calm down just a bit, lest this interlude come to an end far sooner than he might like.
Meg frowned at finding herself sitting on the quilts within inches of him. She never remembered moving, never remembered taking off the rest of her things either. His hands were playing with her nipples, and she never considered that he shouldn’t. It felt lovely. She thought a man should always play with a lady’s nipples then giggled at the thought.
“What are you laughing at?”
“I was thinking this feels so good, that a man should always do this while talking to a lady.” Lord but she was wicked. Meg felt her cheeks grow warm at her daring yet knew she meant every word she said.
“That would be something, wouldn’t it?”
“I know. That’s what’s funny.”
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Oh that would be lovely,” she said and asked, “Did I eat all the cheese?”
Odd, but she couldn’t remember eating anything.
“Here let me get it for you.” He leaned over her and groaned as his chest moved within inches of her mouth and she didn’t hesitate to kiss and nuzzle that tempting flesh. “You’re making me crazy. Don’t do that.”
“Because you’re hungry. You should eat something. After that, you can kiss me wherever you want.”
Meg smiled and sank her teeth into the cheese. “I can’t remember wine or cheese ever tasting this good.” She emptied her glass. “What kind is it?”
Jack smiled at the question. “Now, here’s the dilemma. I have a gorgeous lady before me, wearing only my shirt, while I play with her beautiful breasts. Do you think I’d rather look at wine labels?”
Meg gave a slow blink. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ll send you a case.”
“Oh that would be so nice,” she said and neither of them thought to give or get an address where he might send it. A moment later, she watched his hands move over her. “I like this,” she said, motioning with her head towards his hands. “It feels lovely, doesn’t it?”
“It feels better than lovely.”
“I’m still thirsty.” Meg downed the wine far too quickly and asked for yet another.
Jack knew some surprise. This woman could certainly hold her liquor.
“I can’t remember ever seeing a woman as lovely as you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Are you married?”
Jack frowned at the question. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I think my friend would love you.”
“Would she? What about you?”
“Me? Oh you’re very attractive, but I’m about to be engaged.”
Jack laughed, wondering when he’d so enjoyed himself last.





A March 2, 2010 release by Freya's Bower


Meg exits the taxi near her front door. The long trip has left her bone-tired. All she wants is a warm bath and the comfort of her bed. Only another quietly awaits her arrival. He has plans. If he has his way, it will be some time before Meg gets any rest.


Her mouth grew softer, her body trembled. His mouth left
hers, and slid to her neck, leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses over her
chest. His whiskered jaw sensitized her eager flesh. She couldn’t hold back her
moan of pleasure. And when he finally brushed against her breast and licked her
nipple she gasped and eagerly arched her back, offering all for both their
“So you like that, do you?”
“Like what?” she returned, refusing to allow him the victory.
He grinned as his hands smoothed over her firm flesh. “You know I’m surely
likin’ these huge, gorgeous, tits. I’m wonderin’ how do you stand up with them
bein’ so big?”
“How do you, with that enormous thing between your legs?”
He grunted a short sound of agreement. “It ain’t always that big. It only gets
that way when I look at—or think about, you.”
He gathered her breasts together and played with her nipples. She forced back
the need to groan. Back and forth, his mouth moved over her, his tongue tickling
each nipple till she thought she’d go mad. And then his teeth gently wiggled the
hard, extended tips, and tugged and bit, and tugged and bit her again and sucked
until her senses swam. Her breathing grew to low gasping groans, her mind
helplessly screaming for more.
She was going to come. Not all women could come when a man played with
their nipples, but she could. At least with this man’s teasing she could. Her hips
rose from the bed, desperate for him to never stop. She whimpered, she cried,
and all of it was beyond ecstasy. She forgot the game. She only wanted more.
The Homecoming
He pinched and rolled her nipples until they grew into tight nubs. Hard,
harder. She groaned, knowing he couldn’t pinch them hard enough to suit.
Beyond her control her hips rose and jerked forward and back. She shivered. She
shook helplessly in the throes of a powerful, blinding climax.
He grinned as the convulsing trauma began to ease at last. She settled back
and moaned a soft sound of exhaustion. “You're a hot little piece of ass.”
Meg breathed a deep sigh. “I couldn’t stop it.”
“I know baby. I love to watch you come. It’s damn near killing me not to
shove my cock into that hot luscious pussy, but not yet. We’ve got some playin’ to
do. But first I need to lick up some of that sweet, creamy cum . Damn, but I’ve
been waiting for this.”
He leaned back, and with his hands under her hips he brought her to his
mouth. A moment later he buried his face in her sweet, moist flesh. He groaned.
He spoke into her heated moisture, “Damn, but you taste luscious.”
He licked her and sucked her, and inhaled, breathing in her scent and Meg
knew she was helpless against this delicious assault. There was no way to stop it.
“I’m going to come again,” she groaned.


Patricia Pellicane



An Erotic Historical Romance

A February 15th release

Buy it at www.totalebound.com


She wanted the one thing he couldn't give.

It was only a favor, after all, but Nick couldn't believe his best friend could ask him for that.

Lady Emily Redford has asked her best friend for pointers on how to make love. He is astonished at the request. Why ask him? She is recently widowed. Why doesn't she know?

Emily explains she is about to take on a completely new lifestyle. She will be taking lovers. Horrified, he asks why not simply marry again? Only Emmy isn't interested in the holy state. Nick is aghast upon realising not only is she about to take lovers but her first is the worst rake in all of London.

Nick cannot allow it. He must save her from herself, but who will save him?


Could this be happening? He’d tried so hard to ignore his attraction, struggled for

years, wanted her forever. And never had he dared believe the possibility of kissing her,

really kissing her, of having her.

God, could it be true? Could it be she felt the same?

He gathered her closer, all his yearning hard muscle against her softness. His mind

swam with the deliciousness of her. His hands held her tightly against him. Even as he

shivered, he knew it wasn’t enough. Gently, his hands skimmed over her back, drifting down

lower, lower until he slid them under her ass, pulling her, lifting her so their hips might

meet. He felt the warmth of her through her clothes. How hot was this woman that he could

feel that heat through the many layers of skirt and petticoats? God, he had to know the taste,

feel and smell of her. He reached between her thighs and lifted her so their mouths grew

even. He wanted to feel her against him. He wanted to feel her more than he’d ever wanted

anything in his life.

His body pressed hers hard against the wall, holding her in place with his hips as his

mouth ravished hers. And muttering a sound of displeasure as if it was against his will and

he was forced to stop, he tore his mouth from her heat and raised her higher.

Her breasts, white, gorgeously round and full were bare to his delight, and she gasped

her surprise and groaned in equal pleasure as his mouth suddenly sucked a soft pink nipple

deep into a furnace of blazing heat.

His hands gathered her soft flesh together so his mouth could easily sample one then


other, biting, licking, sucking back and forth until madness threatened. Her nipples ached

and she only wanted more of the pain.

“Harder,” she murmured. “Oh God, harder please.” She couldn’t bear another minute

of it, yet she never wanted him to stop. Her eyes closed, and her breath hissed between her

teeth as her back arched in silent invitation. “Nicky, oh God, Nicky.”

It wasn’t enough, this meagre tasting of a woman who’d dared to fill his mind, his

senses with aching enticement. He hadn’t the will but to accede to her siren’s call. His need

for her was suddenly, desperately, overpowering. Later, he’d wonder how he’d managed to keep what little sense he had and not take her in a haze of sexual madness, sprawled upon

the drawing room floor.

At her lips again, he couldn’t get enough. How had a mouth grown this soft, this sweet,

and this delicious? How had he not been conscious of the fact? How had a woman come to

smell like this, taste like this? Now that he’d touched her, he thought he might never stop. All

he could think was he had to have more.

Without thought, his hand slid up the length of her leg, under her dress, over silk

stockings and bare thigh, and inside the wide leg of her drawers. He wouldn’t be denied. He

had to know her, touch her and taste her. Together, they groaned as his fingers slid over the

silky smooth skin above her stocking. Her heartbeat tripled, and his gasping came loud to

her ears. There was no tentative touching here, the need to know her, the need to have him

know her, was raw, aching and beyond all-consuming.

Her cry was muffled against his mouth as his fingers slid through her lush protective

curls and, at last, into her pussy. He groaned his pleasure at the blazing heat of her.

His mind swam. Hot, wet. God, he’d thought touching her would be enough, but it

wasn’t. He had to taste her. “I need…” he groaned into her mouth. “Jesus, I need this.”

Emmy was beyond thought, beyond the ability to understand his mutterings. All she

knew was his touch and the wild pounding of her blood. She couldn’t breathe and thought it

would never matter less. She didn’t need air. She needed this, his touch, his kiss. He couldn’t

stop. He couldn’t ever be allowed to stop. She’d waited forever to know this pleasure.

A soft cry escaped her lips as he pulled his hand away from her warmth.

“No,” she moaned into the heat of his mouth. “Don’t stop.” She didn’t want him to

stop. He had to touch her. She’d die if he stopped touching her.

Then his fingers, wet with her juices, were at her mouth and his. In her mouth, he

painted her lips, her tongue with her own sweet cream and licked the last of it as his fingers

were sucked into his own mouth. He was desperate to know all he could of her haunting

scent, her luscious taste. God, he’d never known a woman could taste this good.

The sound of a doorbell ringing and a shrill feminine laugh shocked him from this

wildly erotic moment.

He blinked, once twice then gave a slight shake of his head as if trying to clear a dazed

mind, trying to pull himself from the fog of overwhelming passion. His eyes were wide with

surprise, his body trembling, gasping for every breath. He moved suddenly, sharply away,

only to quickly return to steady her trembling form. What the hell? He cleared his throat and

put a finger inside his cravat, loosening the fabric a bit, the gesture telling clearly his shock,

while his gaze filled with confusion. “Christ, Emmy!” he gasped unable to catch his breath.

Clearly puzzled, he croaked out, “What the hell was that?”


Patricia Pellicane



An Erotic Contemporary Romance

With her psychic abilities, Sophie occasionally helps out the police on cases that appear to dead end. Joe Palermo is a Suffolk County detective and Sophie’s brother-in-law’s partner. Sophie and Joe dated briefly when she was a teenager. Joe, upon seeing her again, is very interested in taking up where he once left off. He can’t imagine why he let a woman who looks like her get away.

Sophie is adamant and tells him straight out, she wants no relationship with him. Still a woman doesn’t have to have a relationship to sleep with a man, does she? She was too young the first time around, but Sophie is a woman now. A woman who knows exactly what she wants.

Excerpt #2

He waited until the elderly lady left then re-entered the shop. “All right, suppose I buy


“Suppose you do. What are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to get you to like me.”

Sophie turned her back on him and reached for her bottle of water. She took a drink and

faced him again with a smile. “That would be a serious mistake, don’t you think?”

“Why? I’m a nice guy.”

Sophie only smiled for a response.

“Sophie, come on.”

“All right,” she shrugged as if her next words were no big deal. “I’ve always wondered

what I missed. So why don’t we go to bed?”

He blinked in surprise. “What do you mean? Just like that?”

“Why not? We’re grown up. All right, let me rephrase. I’m grown up. I can decide to go

to bed with someone, if I want to. I was only sixteen when we dated. And you were three

years older, more experienced and ready to go off to college. You were a bit out of my


Joe, obviously dumfounded, was momentarily unable to respond. Idly he wondered

how this woman had somehow gotten the upper hand. Had she just insulted him? “You

don’t think I’m grown up?”

Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know you well enough to say.” And that was the truth. She

couldn’t judge the man on the little she did know.

“All right, you want to go to bed with me. Didn’t you just tell me it would be a mistake

to like me?”

Sophie dismissed his remark with a light frown and a gentle shake of her head. “I don’t

have to like you to have sex.” She took a deep breath. “You know, when I was a teenager, I

heard about this woman. She was writing a book. In it she rated every man she ever slept

with. All right, perhaps ‘slept with’ is the wrong terminology, but you get what I mean.”

Joe swallowed. “And what, you’re looking to rate me?”

She laughed at his bleak look, thoroughly enjoying this teasing conversation. “Well, I

wouldn’t mind seeing for myself what all the fuss was about.”

“Jesus, nothing like putting a little pressure on guy,” he said, his voice slightly


“Well, if it’s only a little pressure, it shouldn’t bother you any.” She grinned at his sour

look. “Being a kid, I thought she was disgusting, but reconsidering, she was quite brilliant,

don’t you think? Imagine how hard those guys worked once they realised what she was


Finally, he managed a dour, “When?”

If he appeared a bit glum about the prospect, Sophie thought he’d get over it soon

enough. She smiled. “I have plans for tonight and tomorrow. Are you busy Friday night?”

“What time?” he asked without the slightest bit of pleasure.

Sophie grinned. For someone who appeared to be unhappy with the thought, he surely

was an amicable sort. “I close the shop at six. Is eight o’clock all right?”

“Fine, should I bring—”

Sophie interrupted with a shake of her head. “Nothing. This isn’t a date. I’ll make

dinner.” She laughed as she watched his brows rise, his gaze obviously confused.

“I thought this wasn’t a date. I thought you only wanted sex.”

“I have to eat, don’t I? As long as I’m cooking, I might as well make enough for two.”

She laughed softly as she gave him a knowing look. “And you can be dessert.”


Patricia Pellicane



An Erotic Historical Romance

He’d give her anything he could, even if it took the magic of Christmas

Elizabeth Pennyworth has come to town to teach, only to find the schoolhouse and her living quarters in shambles. The mayor hired her through the mail, so she goes to the mayor to find a solution to her problem. How can she teach the children their lessons?

Zachary Bond is delighted to find the newest and by far the prettiest of Fancy's girls in his office and doesn't hesitate to sample this delightful piece. That she acts like a lady only further intrigues him. A bit too late he discovers her true identity. He is determined she will soon belong to him...Zachary has lessons of his own to teach.

Excerpt #2

He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t think of anything but how you taste.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about that.” She came to her feet and brushed invisible

crumbs from her shirt and skirt. “It’s late. I’d best be getting back to—”

“The thing is I wanted to apologise.”

“Really?” Lizzie’s head came up. Her blue gaze clashed with his. She stopped all

movement, her heart pounded. She couldn’t have known greater surprise.

“It’s not that I’m sorry it happened.”

Lizzie took a deep breath, her heart pounding even harder as she backed up two steps

and heard herself sigh, “Oh dear.”

“I’m only sorry it happened so soon.”

She took another a step back and repeated weakly, “It’s terribly late.”

He was on his feet, following her as she moved backward, deeper into the room, farther

from the light. “I know. We should go, but first, I thought I could kiss you.”

“No.” Lizzie’s heartbeat turned to thunder. Idly, she wondered how it could pound like

that without causing serious damage. She shook her head. “I don’t want this.”

“I know, and I promised myself I wouldn’t, and I thought I could keep that promise,

but you’re so damn appealing with paint smeared over your cheek and your hair peeking

from that kerchief, curling around your face. And it is only one kiss.” He took another step,

backing her to the wall.

She murmured a trembling, “Please.” She couldn’t allow this. She was all too aware of

what had happened the last time he’d kissed her and was terrified, knowing without a doubt

it would happen again.

He soothed with, “Don’t be afraid. I swear nothing will happen. Nothing you don’t


“One kiss?” she asked hopefully.

He grinned, for it was obvious she was going to allow at least that much. With a

devilish gleam in his eyes, he deliberately took her question as a plea for more. “Well, if you

want more than one, I suppose I could be persuaded to accommodate a lady.”

Lizzie laughed, realising his attempt at levity and the effort he made to ease her tension.

“Just one,” she managed, “and only because you insist.”

He nodded his agreement. “Yes, ma’am.” He sent a nod over his shoulder and offered,

“We should sit on the quilt.”

“We’ll stand,” she said as primly and confidently as she was able.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said again as he moved closer, his teeth biting his lower lip, catching

his need to laugh.

“Think you’re irresistible, don’t you?” she returned without thinking as she watched his

grin and his laughing, teasing gaze.

Zack’s gaze widened. His look told clearly he’d never imagined such a thing but was

mighty pleased the thought had occurred to her and she was apparently taking some to the

notion. “I think the question is do you think so?”

She lied outright. “If you must know, Mr. Bond, I think you are easily the most

resistible man I’ve ever met.”

He smiled and soothed her obvious trepidation with, “And I think you’re one fine

looking lady, Miss Pennyworth. Were all the men in Peachtree, Georgia, blind? How did they

let someone like you escape them?”

Lizzie ignored his question. In truth, she barely heard it for he was close, so close she

could smell the scent of his skin, the clean, warmth of his breath. “One kiss,” she reminded

weakly, his mouth a hairs-breadth from hers.

“Just one, sweetheart.” Then his lips touched hers, and he murmured against her

mouth, “All right, perhaps two. But no more than three. Three will have to be your limit.”


Patricia Pellicane



An Erotic Historical Romance

Since being orphaned, Meg’s only happiness or freedom has been swimming at the cove. She and her younger brother have been forced to live under the brutal thumb of their uncle, a man who takes every opportunity to bestow the harshest of measures upon his two helpless charges. Meg has withstood his abuse long enough. Tonight, she and her brother are leaving the monster’s home forever, and today, she will visit the cove for the last time.

As she leaves the water, clothed only in the most transparent of garments, a man moves from the surrounding rocks. She knows she’s as good as naked to his view, but she doesn’t care. With daring strides, she meets him head on, without a flicker of trepidation. She yearns for the pleasure promised in his dark gaze and tempting smile. Then she discovers the white-hot lust of his devastating kiss…

Excerpt # 2

He smelled so good. She hadn’t known a man could smell this good. Then his mouth touched hers, and she shivered with a terrible, crashing, instant need for more.

Mouth against mouth, she groaned as he held her to him and pushed her lips apart, as his tongue came to coat her with his taste, as the dizziness came to assault and weaken her knees. Shocked at this odd happening, she couldn’t imagine what he was about. This wasn’t a kiss. This wasn’t anything like a kiss.

“What are you doing?” she asked, even as her mouth was held firmly to his.

“Kissing you,” he returned, neither thinking it the least bit odd that they spoke directly into the other’s mouth.

He breathed in her scent. “My God, you’re delicious,” he groaned as he played with her mouth, barely touching with his lips as his teeth and tongue toyed with all he could reach, only to dart away set to discover every luscious flavour, every inviting, mysteriously dark corner, sliding, teasing, sensitising her flesh to madness, until his mouth settled with a deep, aching, hungry groan against hers. For endless moments he ate at her, sucked in her essence, breathed in her breath. His lips clung to hers. She pulled away and gasped for air, only to find his hand at the back of her head guiding her back to a further delicious assault.

“Wait,” she murmured even as she wondered how she managed. “This isn’t kissing. You’re eating my mouth.”

He laughed again as if he thought her adorable.

She moaned against his mouth, breathless almost to the point of unconsciousness, then suddenly realised there was no need to breathe. He breathed for them both, breathed into her with short gasping gusts, and she, helpless but to accede to his wants, to both their wants, did the same.

“My God, who are you?” he gasped, even as his mouth seemed unable to let hers go.

She shook her head. She was leaving here tomorrow. It didn’t matter if he knew her name. Only…it did.
When a lady sunbathes topless, she's apt to attract one delicious man.

After finding a lusciously tempting man in her backyard, hard-working Maggie thought it just might be time for a little R&R.

Jeremiah's company was contracted to renovate a beautiful old mansion. Only when the time came to look the property over, he found something even better. The gorgeous lady sunbathed topless, a definite plus in any man's book.

The attraction between them was instant and powerful, the sex incredible. But something dangerous threatens this incredible love-affair. A danger so great it could jeopardise their very lives.


Tell Me You Love Me


Patricia Pellicane An Historical Erotic Romance

Released date May 24, 2010 by Total-e-bound Publishing

IN PRINT JUNE 14, 2010

Buy it at

EXCERPT: A pulse beat in her throat. Her lips parted as she suddenly struggled to breathe. She was lost in the darkness of his gaze, unexpectedly gasping for air as if she’d been running some distance or holding her breath. What was the matter with her? Why was she breathless? Why was her heart suddenly pounding? She couldn’t seem to hear anything but the roar of her blood as it rushed through her veins.
His mouth lowered just a bit, his face—his dangerously handsome face—coming closer, his dark eyes blocking out all else but his hunger—a hunger they suddenly both knew. His mouth brushed gently against hers, and all thoughts but one simply vanished. Her younger sister had once remarked that he was lovely to look at. Only Kiya knew he was even lovelier to taste.
Her body tingled from her lips clear to her toes at the simple brush of his mouth on hers. Oh my goodness. She’d never thought a man could smell or taste so good. That probably wasn’t a good thing because he looked and smelled better than cherry pie. And nothing was better than cherry pie.
“Pie,” she muttered thoughtlessly against his insistent mouth.
He didn’t seem to hear her, at least not at first.
“Mm, better,” she murmured as he deepened the kiss.
He smiled as his lips parted, and his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, lifting her some while bringing her tightly against him.
“Cherry pie,” she said against his delicious mouth.
Kiya knew a touch of amazement. She’d never thought one could talk while being kissed, but she was being kissed and delightfully so. Still, she couldn’t seem to resist telling him how much she liked it.
“Are you hungry?” he asked at her mention of food, while never taking his mouth from hers.
“You taste so good,” she returned, never noticing her words, never thinking to control or deny the sweetly ingenuous delight that filled her. “Better than cherry pie.”
He growled at her luscious response. “Open your mouth for me.”
She did as he asked and was shocked to feel his tongue dip gently between her lips. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
She meant to laugh at the nonsensical response, but the soft sound turned oddly into a groan. “That’s not a kiss.”
“Isn’t it? Don’t you like it?”
“I think I do,” she managed, strangely fascinated by this unusual occurrence. “But do you think you should do that?”
“Oh, I think I should.”
“All right then,” she agreed. “You’re probably right.” Anything that felt this good had to be right.
He gave a low deliciously sexy chuckle at her eager acquiescence even as he took her bottom lip and sucked it gently into his mouth. He heard her soft moan of pleasure.
“Mm, that feels lovely, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” he agreed
“But I’m almost positive, this isn’t kissing.” It never occurred to her that she shouldn’t be allowing this. Kiya was too taken by the moment, too instantly absorbed into the pleasure that she never thought at all.
His tongue moved over her lip, and the tingling sensations increased.
“You have a beautiful mouth.”
“Are you sure you’re kissing me?” she asked.
“Absolutely sure,” he returned.
“It feels like you’re eating me.”
“Not yet,” he promised. “But I will.”

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