A Naughty New Year with Samanthe Beck and Giveaway

A Naughty New Year - Samanthe Beck 

Sam was transfixed from an early age with any tale featuring a handsome prince, a great dress, and, of course, the all-important kiss, and eventually aspired to write her own happily-ever-afters. Naturally, she became a lawyer. The legal world heaved a sigh of relief a few years ago when Samanthe retired from law to take the plunge as a writer.

When not living the glamorous life of a romance author (i.e., chained to her computer), Samanthe keeps busy with the care and feeding of her extremely patient prince-charming of a husband, a not-so-patient ball of energy known as their son, a furry ninja named Kitty, and Bebe, the trash talkin’ Chihuahua. Their love, support, and willingness to eat Pizza Hut three or more times a week enables Samanthe to pursue her literary dreams.

Places to find Samanthe: 

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Seduced by Santa

Hi Dani! Thanks for inviting me to your Naughty News Year’s Eve! I’m teasing your readers with a scene from a new Brazen that won’t release until the end of 2014, but I couldn’t resist sharing now because my heroine, hotel executive Chelsea Wayne, is having an epically messed-up holiday season. She received the biggest Christmas surprise of her life when she shoved Santa into a supply closet at the holiday party and had her merry way with him, only to discover she’d seduced the wrong Santa—infuriatingly irresistible playboy Rafe St. Sebastian! Oh yeah, he also just happens to be her new boss.

Now, one hasty job-change later, it’s New Year’s Eve and wrong Santa is back. He’s skipped the costume this time, but he’s as determined as ever to start her New Year off on a very naughty note. Enjoy!

***

Rafe lowered his head until his mouth hovered over Chelsea’s. “Sometimes the most memorable things happen as a result of a single, spontaneous gesture. I think we proved that in a supply closet at Las Ventanas Resort this Christmas, don’t you?”

She remained stubbornly silent, and ramrod straight in his arms as he guided them around the dance floor. “Come on, Chelsea, are you telling me you never think about our adventure in the closet?”

“I don’t,” she said. “That was a mistake, plain and simple. When I shoved Santa into the supply room, I didn’t realize it was you in the costume. I thought it was…someone else.”

Maybe, but she knew exactly who’s arms she was in now. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and her lips parted. Against his chest her heart beat hard and fast.

“You don’t think about my hands on your body—”

“No,” she whispered, the single word slightly breathless, slightly desperate.

The crowd around them erupted into a countdown.

Ten … he trailed his hand down her back …

Nine …with the other, he cupped the back of her head …

Eight … “You never think about my tongue tracing the path of your thong, gliding all the way down until I could kiss and lick your sweet, throbbing little—?”

“No!” Her wide eyes darted to his, pupils huge.

Five … “Or those grateful little noises you made when I finally slid inside, where you were so incredibly hot, and tight and wet?”

Her eyes fluttered closed. Her breath came in quick, shallow pants. The hands she’d rested lightly on his shoulders tightened, bunching his jacket in a white knuckled grip. She moaned, “No …”

Three …

He pulled her closer.

Two … splayed his hand over the tempting curve of her ass and hauled her against him, so she’d feel just how well he remembered every damn detail of their last meeting.

One …

“Never?” he challenged, and then crushed her lips under his.

While cheers of, “Happy New Year” echoed around them, over the strains of Auld Lang Syne, he kissed her.

A flotilla of black and silver balloons drifted down from the ceiling. Guests laughed, and sang, and jostled them, and still he kissed her.

Sparkly, star-shaped confetti rained over everyone and everything, and he kept right on kissing her.

Her arms twined around his neck. Her lips parted. She flattened one hand against the back of his head and held on. When he bent her over his arm and swept his tongue into her sweet, yielding mouth, she wrapped her leg around his hip and arched closer. The heat of her body practically seared his thigh through his tuxedo pants.

Okay, so much for his no biting promise. He trapped her lush lower lip between his teeth and nibbled. Her shuddery moan suggested she didn’t mind.

The song ended. The house lights came up a few notches. Slowly he drew her upright and even more slowly, he broke the kiss. She stared up at him, dazed, her lips soft and slightly swollen from the pressure of his mouth on hers.

“Think about it,” he said, and giving her a grin he hoped didn’t reveal how much the next move cost him, he walked away.

Pretending to be in love has never felt so sexy.

USMC helicopter pilot Michael McCade has two goals: Get his damn back into alignment and keep his nose clean until his commanding officer clears him to fly again. The doctor-recommended massage therapy seems like a necessary step toward returning to the cockpit, but when his too-hot-to-handle neighbor, Chloe Kincaid, turns out to be his masseuse, he strays from the straight and narrow in a major way.

Chloe Kincaid is looking for a simple, no strings attached, ego-boosting hook up. But when her positively panty-melting neighbor, USMC Major Michael McCade, (aka “Major Hottie”), shows up on her massage table, she lets desire get the better of professionalism. Now they’re pretending to be engaged to avoid a whole lot of unanticipated consequences of a momentary lapse in judgment. But can a girl who avoids attachments at all costs fake an engagement to a straight-arrow soldier without falling hard?

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 Check out what's up for grabs.

Up For Grabs:

• 1 eBook copy of Lover Undercover

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