A Red Garters, Snow and Mistletoe tale...
Blurb:
Bree Connor thinks she's volunteered to be a cocktail waitress at a benefit party for the homeless, donating her tips to the shelter--until the end of the night when she gets auctioned off to the highest bidder. The buyer? A man who has been giving her eyes all evening. He also happens to be the partner of the man Bree had an extremely unforgettable sexual encounter with a few months earlier, and has been avoiding all evening.
Oh, what a tinseled web we weave...
With 24 hours to do her buyer's bidding, she finds herself draped in tinsel and bound to a humongous antique bed, awaiting her Christmas Eve fate, only to find that she's been purchased as a gift for the man she's been trying to avoid. Unfortunately, her buyer orders them to 'get each other out of their systems' so they can go on with their lives... or not. Thing is, while blindfolded and securely bound, Bree is pretty sure she feels two sets of hands on her body instead of just one...
An excerpt: Chapter One
The black thong was a perfect fit, if she did say so herself. It cupped her nicely in front, making a perfect vee at her crotch. The tiny straps hugged her hipbone.
Bree Noël Conner smoothed her hands over her hips and tucked the tips of her fingers under the thin string. She’d invested in an airbrushed tan for the occasion and was glad of it. Her skin was bronze and silky, even though it was Christmas Eve. Pasty white and dry wasn’t for her, though her complexion was naturally milky. Since moving to Albuquerque, she tried her best to stay sun-kissed and healthy-looking, like everyone else. Besides, she had a skimpy dress to wear tonight and she’d be damned if she was wearing pantyhose.
Even in the middle of winter.
Turning, she glanced over her shoulder in the mirror and smiled. “Nice ass, if I do say so myself.” She adjusted the thong and then ran her palms over her backside too.
Wearing only the scrap of fabric, she padded across her bedroom and sat on the bench at the foot of her bed. Warming her favorite cocoa butter lotion in her hands, she skimmed her hands over her legs, lifting first one, then the other, into the air.
“Nice and moist,” she whispered. “Perfect.”
One at a time, she slipped a foot into a black patent leather boot, complete with five-inch tall, white faux-fur tops and three-inch heels, then laced each boot up her shin, from the top of her foot all the way to the fur at her knees.
Standing, she moved to the mirror again and admired the high-heeled boots, again turning this way and that to get the full effect.
“Nice,” she whispered. “Yes.” These will do just fine.
Lifting her gaze to her bare chest, she perused each of her girls. Firm, full, and bronzed as well, she noted her erect, upturned nipples.
She liked breasts. On her and on other women. Not that she went around feeling up other women’s breasts—it wasn’t her gig—she secretly admired other women’s from afar. To her own way of thinking, hers were topnotch.
Her last boyfriend thought so, too.
Until she’d screwed up. Again.
Sighing, she was actually glad he was out of her life, and relieved she didn’t have a man to answer to right now. Picking up her black strapless bra from the dresser, she clasped it around her waist. Twisting it upward, she shimmied the girls into place. It was a cup size too small.
Damn.
A lazy smiled curled over her lips. She liked the look of her breasts spilling out over the rim of the cups.
Her cell rang; she glanced down at the number, picked it up. “Hey, Ging.”
Her best friend’s high-pitched voice pinged through from the other side.
Bree grimaced. “I hear you! Yes. I know it’s snowing. What?”
Ginger explained once more, “We need to leave now. We’ll never get up the mountain if we wait an hour.”
Shit. That came through loud and clear. The party was in a home up in the East Mountain area of the Sandias. They’d had light snow off and on all day. She hadn’t realized that it was getting worse.
Teach her to dally in the tub.
But tonight, she had to look nice. She was hoping to come away from this evening with a purse full of pocket change, all for a good cause, of course.
“All right! I’ll be downstairs in ten.”
She ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed. Her Santa dress hung in the doorway. She grasped the thing—if you could call it a dress, even—and gave it a quick perusal. Pulling it over her head, she wriggled into it. Skin tight, it cinched at her waist and flared out over her hips. She struggled with the zipper at the side, finally managing to pull it all the way up.
“Belt.”
Locating the black patent leather belt, she circled her waist and pulled it tight, buckling it snug at her center. Again, she gave herself a once-over in the mirror. The dress barely skimmed her ass. The red velveteen, trimmed in faux fur along the hem, tickled her cheeks. Fur cradled her breasts, as well.
“Nice.”
A horn sounded outside.
“Crap.”
She clutched at her makeup bag, the elbow-length red satin gloves, and her Santa hat, then tripped down the stairs of her townhouse toward the front door.
***
Like it? Three ways to buy:
Read the 5/5 Cup Review from Coffee Time Romance
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Look for the other books in the Red Garters, Snow and Mistletoe series by authors Catrina Calloway, Tia Fanning, Demi Alex and Melinda Barron at
Resplendence Publishing.
From, Don't Tempt Me
