Cover & Excerpt
by Jianne Carlo
by Jianne Carlo
Hades Squad Book Five
Retired SEAL Satan ranks liars and talk show hosts lower than ambulance chasers on his list of contemptible occupations, so he goes AWOL when his mansion’s the site of a New York blueblood charity auction. He returns home after the event is over, and his doorbell rings. The stunning redhead at the door’s late for the auction. He invites her in with the intention of wooing her to stay.
Angel Dare, darling host of the NY talk show circuit, plans to avenge her brother’s murder. Her scheme is a suicidal one—she doesn’t expect to come out of the mission alive.
The instant, powerful attraction to Satan stuns her. When he seduces her into spending four days with him having nothing but monkey sex and fun, she agrees. Better to go out with a bang—or four days of it—than a whimper.
Long ago, Satan resigned himself to a solitary life. Angel dropkicks that notion into another galaxy, but she won’t commit to a relationship with him. When she leaves, he discovers that his Angel’s nothing but a rabid liar and a frigging talk show host. Furious, he resolves to cut her out of his life.
Then Angel goes missing while she’s playing carnival in her homeland, Trinidad. Jess, Satan’s buddy’s wife, begs him to find her friend, Angel. Why should he bother with the deceitful woman who abused his emotions?
Genre: Romantic SuspenseSatan Purchase link(s): Amazon ARe Smashwords Kobo B&N
Content/Theme(s): Military, SEALs, Humor, Mystery, Contemporary
Release Date: April 2, 2015
Publisher: Hartwood Publishing
Giveaway, Books 1-4, Excerpts & More
A slow smile crept across Angel’s lips at the sight that met her eyes.
In a matter of a few minutes, he had transformed the room. Dozens of candles lit the cavernous yet cozy circular space. All the lights had been turned off.
The Christmas tree was the star of the scene. A roaring blaze crackled and spit in the fireplace. One panel of the French doors stood ajar, and a silvery beam of moonlight streamed through the slight opening. An ocean draft intermingled with the tree’s pine scent to form a spicy, fragrant aroma.
She hid the bag behind one of the chairs that had been shoved to the wall, scanned the enchanting room searching for Satan, and found him rolling up the carpet that had been under the coffee table. He stood, strode to her, captured her hand, and gestured to the room. “You like?”
“Oh I like all right. It’s like a Christmas ballroom. How’d you manage so much so fast?” She walked alongside him, pleased to note their strides matched in length.
“Destiny. Told her what I wanted, and she arranged it. Everything was in place, all I had to do was light the candles, move a couple of chairs, and start the fire. Shall we dance?” He offered her his arm.
“Music?” Only the occasional hissing and popping of the fire broke the quiet.
“Covered.” He pulled a remote from his pocket and hit a button. The strains of “Santa Baby” swirled around the room. He opened his arms in invitation.
On a contented sigh, Angel snuggled into his embrace. It took a few twists and turns, but they found a perfect rhythm. Never had dancing been so effortless and eclectic, Angel surrendered to Satan’s certain lead. Wondered why she was surprised at how much he appeared to enjoy seducing her into a new cadence, a quick twirl, a sensual dip.
They swayed and spun through an entire playlist. More and more astounded by his extended repertoire, she laughed when he changed the mood entirely by selecting a jitterbug tune.
The man had moves. She shrieked when he slid her to the marble between his feet and pulled her right back into the dance. He did that over the back move without missing a beat and carried her with such surety, neither of them stumbled. When the tunes ended, he snagged her knees, carted her over to the large sofa, and collapsed into the leather.
When she caught her breath, Angel declared, “That was so much fun!”
“It was, wasn’t it?” What a grin the man had—full of mischievous invitation.
An idea blossomed. She hopped off his lap.
“What’re you doing?”
He snatched at her wrist, but she yanked her hand out of his range and salsaed over to the blue tooth stereo docking station with his iPhone. “I’m going to teach you how to wine.”
“To wine?” He raised a dark brow.
“The Trini word for what Americans call dirty dancing. Wining is an art every Trini male or female perfects long before she hits adolescence. When I demonstrated it at college with a fellow Trini, everyone said it was basically having sex with all your clothes on.”
She picked up his phone from the coffee table, created a new Pandora station, and entered three songs. Her breathing went raspy and irregular at the thought of wining on him, behind him, in front of him. A tidal wave of lust crashed through her. Shit. Maybe she’d outsmarted herself with this move.
She looked up to find his piercing black eyes fixated on her and blurted, “Let’s skip the wining lesson and get naked instead.”
He crooked his finger at her and shook his head. “No way, missy. You finish what you start. Satan’s rules.”
The dark wave of her desire lightened. She exaggerated the sway of her hips and sashayed to him. The brass section of a famous Trinidadian band echoed around the room. “This is old, but it’s classic. It’s called “Dollar Wine,” and it’s the Trini song that teaches you how to wine. Just listen to the lyrics while I show you what to do.”
When she stood not a foot away from him, Angel spun around and gave him her back. She snagged his wrists, placed his hands on her lower belly, jammed her rump into his groin, and circled her hips slowly over his erection. “That’s the basic motion. Okay on cent, we grind to the right, five cents—”
To her utmost shock, he immediately gripped her pelvis, and began to control the rhythm. “Five cents, left, ten, back, dollar, grind front. I was in Trinidad during Carnival in 1991. This song was what you call the Road March. The song most played by bands going over the judging stage.”
Satan Purchase link(s): Amazon ARe Smashwords Kobo B&N
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by Jianne Carlo
Hades Squad Book Four
Demon rescues Jacinta, a curvy, luscious female whose virginity he takes in front of four armed men, from certain gang rape, being shot, and who knows what else? Talk about the best laid plans backfiring.
Demon's carefully plotted scheme to capture the man who abused him, Pedro Nunez, aka, The Smiling Killer, is not off to a good start.
Jacinta claims to have lived her whole life in a cloistered convent. Claims she's an orphan. Claims she's only lived in the outside world for fifty-seven days. Yet she's the mirror image of Pedro's sister, Rosa. The sister Pedro murdered fifty-seven days ago.
There are no coincidences in life. Not for a retired SEAL. Is Jacinta Pedro's ultimate revenge on Demon?
Demon Purchase link(s): Amazon
“Let’s go before I change my mind and order room service.” Demon urged her forward. “Rules are in effect from the minute we step out the door.”
The humidity hadn’t lessened with nightfall. Stepping out of the air conditioning was akin to falling into a bowl of tepid broth. He twined their fingers together and led her down narrow streets littered with cigarette cases, empty soda bottles, battered cans, and crumpled paper. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors sat at sidewalk tables. Music—a samba here, a calypso there, Frank Sinatra crooning a tune she didn’t recognize—blared from cafés, restaurants, and bars.
At the boarding school, they’d made field trips to the nearby towns. Jacinta recognized the same characteristics of those others in this one. The atmosphere crackled with the frenetic energy of unruliness, of a town built around the promise of gold and diamonds, the flamboyance of drug runners, and the obsession of revolutionaries.
“This way.” He turned right into a near-vacant side alley that took them to a tiny café.
Jacinta glanced around the small room, taking in the empty tables covered by red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. In her experience, albeit limited, crowded restaurants meant good food at reasonable prices.
He pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit. The table he’d chosen was tucked into a corner at the back of the restaurant near an arched corridor.
“There’s no one else here.” The ceiling fan above them circulated delicious aromas Jacinta couldn’t pinpoint.
Demon shoved the other chair to her side and sat. “I know.”
Jacinta stiffened when he lifted her onto his lap. Heat scaled her throat. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s called foreplay.”
He hadn’t understood. Jacinta didn’t want to spoil their evening, but she had to be honest. “I should like to tell you something.”
She studied the cheery tablecloth. “I would prefer not to make love again.”
“Look at me.” He cradled her jaw and forced her to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want to, then we won’t.”
Relief had her light-headed. “Thank you.”
“Did you like it when I kissed you?”
She sighed. “Very much.”
“Kissing is part of foreplay.”
“Oh.” She knew she blushed all over, for even her toes were on fire. “I should like to tell you something else.”
“I should like to know more of this foreplay if there is not the penetration part.” She gestured at his hardening erection half hidden by her dress. “We simply do not fit. It is obvious now, of course. You need a much larger woman.”
He made a strangled noise and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
A plump woman approached the table bearing a round tray.
Jacinta tugged a lock of Demon’s hair, and surprised by the silken texture, twined the sandy tresses around her fingers before freeing one springy wave. “Someone’s coming.”
“Señor Demon. Welcome back. The appetizers you ordered are ready.”
He wore a huge grin that enchanted Jacinta. She hadn’t noticed his three dimples before. “Gracias, Lucia. Will you open the wine and let it breathe?”
“Pronto.” For a large woman, she moved quickly. Before Jacinta could add her thanks, Lucia had disappeared. She peered at the tray.
“Try this one.” Demon offered her a pastry of some sort. “Open.”
He intended to feed her? But the pastry smelled heavenly. She took a small bite and closed her eyes in rapture as her taste buds exploded in delight. Shrimp doused with cream and butter and a hint of garlic.
“I do believe you’re purring.” His warm breath feathered her cheek. “Hey. I get a turn too. Feed me the rest.”
Demon Purchase link(s): Amazon
by Jianne Carlo
Hades Squad Book Three
The last person Devil expects to see in a BDSM club is the best friend of his buddy’s new wife, Jessica Blaine. The all-American apple pie woman he craves, it’s her face he’s seen during every orgasm for the last nine months. Is she playing? Exploring? Tough, she’s on his turf now, she’s put herself up for auction, and by God she’s his for the night.
Jess is scared spitless. She’s going to sell her services to the man who may have killed Aung, the college student she mentors who vanished three weeks earlier. When the wrong man, a masked stranger, wins the auction, she has no choice but to proceed. Horrified when she responds to the masked stranger, Jessica flees.
Devil lets her go, fully intending to reel her in. His way.
Note this was previously published by LooseId under the title Deviant Devil in August 2011. It has been newly edited.
Devil Purchase link(s): Amazon
It hadn’t been Dominix.
Jess’s stomach lurched into her throat.
She’d spent three entire nights tossing, turning, berating herself, and praying.
Praying it hadn’t been Dominix in Bacchanal’s private room.
Praying it had been Dominix in Bacchanal’s private room.
Not knowing which would be worse, being turned on by a complete stranger or finally surrendering to her morbid Dominix fantasies. Though her Bacchanal escort had worn a mask, she’d glimpsed his hair, and those black locks plus his build and gait had convinced her he was Dominix.
Until he spoke.
Who was she kidding? Even after hearing his Texas twang, she’d held on to the forlorn hope that the stranger who’d brought her to the first explosive climax of her life had been the one man she’d been fantasizing about for over nine months.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. For Dominix stood in the entrance to the Hades Squad’s conference room. And the shock of inky waves that had once brushed Dominix’s shoulders, blue-black locks that would’ve been effeminate on any other man, had been replaced by a buzz cut.
Dominix Alexander Zubiri wore a buzz cut.
Green couldn’t begin to describe the nauseous bile doing a jig in her gullet.
How had he found out about the meeting? She had checked with Destiny, her best friend, to ensure Devil would be out of town before arranging this meeting. Jess glanced at the two Hades Squad members seated across the table. Both men looked as surprised as she felt.
An impending sense of doom weighted her shoulders.
She couldn’t keep her gaze off him. The buzz cut had sharpened his features and added a harshness that hadn’t been there before. A dangerous edge she wanted to ride more than ever.
“See something you like?”
Dominix’s menace-laced tone belied words she once would’ve interpreted as cocky and flirtatious. A tarantula pirouetted up her spine. For no devilish smile lifted the corners of his mouth, those onyx eyes didn’t glint with mischief, and he returned her stare with an intimidating intensity.
“What the frick?” Lorcan McGillycuddy, aka Satan, president of the Hades Squad security firm, twisted to confront Dominix. “What are you doing here?”
“The meeting was cancelled.”
“Obviously.” Satan’s glance raked Dominix from head to toe. “Has hell frozen over? Did the poles reverse? Am I hallucinating?”
“Nope. It’s Devil. In the flesh.” Sax Anders, the Hades Squad’s information specialist, shook his head and grinned.
“Can’t be. His girlie hair’s gone.” Satan rolled his eyes.
How could such an austere style serve only to enhance Dominix’s wicked allure?
Jess refrained from banging her head on the table.
Ever since her parents’ death decades ago, she’d been relentless, ambitious, and industrious in her pursuit of one goal: self-reliance. No man is an island, but the woman she’d become was one. She ran her own business, towed the social morality line to keep the client roster satisfied, and avoided emotional entanglements. If it hadn’t been necessary to ply the New York social scene for her business, Jess wouldn’t have made the effort to date.
She’d tried sex.
The smells and sweat of intercourse offended her nostrils, the conversations necessary afterward proved awkward, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand the feminine need to cuddle. Being celibate proved less stressful. It wasn’t as if she had a high sex drive; her vibrator went unused for months at a time.
It had all been working perfectly.
Her carefully crafted solid-and-dependable-girl-next-door reputation kept even the most ardent males at arm’s length. Then she’d met Dominix, and in less than nine seconds, any illusion of normality had been shattered.
One night. One meeting. One dance.
“No way he’d cut his hair voluntarily.” Satan studied Devil and then shook his head. “Payback? A jealous husband?”
A tiny unladylike snort escaped her nostrils. Dominix’s screw ’em and lose ’em philosophy meant oodles of jealous husbands existed.
“No obvious bruises, so he wasn’t ambushed.” Sax crossed his arms and lifted one gold-dusted brow. “Did you know that shaving the head is a common sign of grieving for the dead?”
Devil Purchase link(s): Amazon
by Jianne Carlo
Hades Squad Book Two
After Nalini seduces Lucifer she discovers he's been hired to find her by the groom she jilted at the altar.
Lucifer never loses his cool, never acts on impulse, never indulges in one-night stands, until one sultry Santa Fe night and Nalini.
Nalini's teenage love for Lucifer never waivers even though she hasn't seen him in eight years.
Their universe shattering sex stuns Lucifer, he suggests another date. Nalini blithely informs him she's engaged.
Lucifer's outraged - she used him.
Lucifer's hired to find a runaway bride, Nalini, the daughter of close friends of his parents who are strict Hindus. What's Lucifer to do when he discovers Nalini's the mystery woman from his recent one-night-stand? The one where the condom broke?
Note this was previously published by LooseId under the title Lucifer’s Choice in December 2010. It has been expanded and newly edited.
Lucifer Purchase links: Amazon B&N
By the time the cab dropped her off at the three-story building housing the Hades Squad offices, worry and apprehension had knotted every muscle in her body. In the elevator on the way to the third floor, she massaged her shoulder and neck to no avail. When the doors slid open, Nalini held her breath and scanned the reception area, anticipating the worst-case scenario and finding it in the form of one furious Norwegian.
Sax Anders stood in front of a half-hidden desk, his arms crossed, pupils contracted to twin points as sharp as tacks, and his navy irises held the chill of Scandinavian fjords. “Your parents, brother, and fiancé are in the conference room. When you’ve finished offering them your explanations for disappearing for the last twenty-three months, you and I will have a short conversation.”
A shudder rolled through Nalini, and she folded her arms to still her quaking limbs.
“You will answer one question immediately,” he commanded, his Adam’s apple jumping. “Did I take your virginity last night?”
“You didn’t take it. I gave it to you.” She widened her stance, planted her hands on her hipbones, and stabbed a finger to her ribs. “My decision. Mine.”
“Oh I agree with you,” he growled.
“Wait a minute—my parents are waiting for me?” Nalini frowned. “I didn’t know I was coming here until half an hour ago. They couldn’t be expecting me.”
“Security cameras on the building captured you exiting the cab.” His clipped enunciation, the grim pull of his lips, and slight flaring of his nostrils indicated an anger barely held in check. “Your mother fainted. And for ten seconds I thought your father was having a heart attack.”
“Are they okay? Oh God, what have I done?” Her pulse skittered. Nalini rubbed her collarbone and tried to take a deep breath past the panicked fear filling her throat.
“A question you’ll be asking yourself a number of times over the next few days, I imagine. The conference room’s that way.” He angled his head to the left.
Nalini surveyed the shadowed hallway he indicated. She adjusted her purse’s shoulder strap and tucked the leather bag under her arm. Not checking to see if Sax followed, she strode forward, head down, passing a couple of mahogany doors before the corridor dead-ended into an open room dominated by a twenty-seat circular conference table.
She lifted her chin and promptly met her fiancé’s dark, impenetrable gaze. The tight set of Anand’s lips and the slight sneer to his mouth had Nalini’s blood curdling in her veins. Anand’s arrogance exceeded the conventional boundaries of those born to wealth and position. He inclined his head, his smug composure unfazed by her reappearance. “Nalini.”
“It is you.” Nalini swung left, and she watched as her mother collapsed into a chair. The pink patent Chanel handbag Chandani Marajh grasped fell out of her hands and clattered onto the table. She looked tired, and the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes had deepened.
“Hi, Mom,” Nalini croaked.
“Where have you been?” Her father barked each word separately before he slumped into the seat next to her mother’s. “We thought you were dead. I’ve had an army searching for you, and you, you waltz into this room and say ’Hi, Mom’?” He banged a fist on the table.
“Two years later,” he yelled punctuating each statement with his fist. Stacks of pencils and notepads piled on the far corner of the table jumped and shifted. “Two years, Nalini. Two years of not knowing if you were alive or dead. Two years. Your mother almost had a nervous breakdown. Two years.”
Nalini searched her mother’s misting eyes and noted the way she gathered the purse and crunched the leather in her hands. Her normally coiffed and perfect bob was tousled as if she’d dragged her hands through her hair repeatedly. She’d never seen her mother anything but poised and composed.
All of a sudden the impact of what she’d done to her family made her insides clench and jerk.
“What were you thinking, Nalini?” her mother asked, her expression so forlorn, so wounded, Nalini wanted to fly into her embrace.
That was just it. She hadn’t been thinking, not straight, anyway. Her unflappable mother almost had a nervous breakdown? Oh God, how was she to make up for all the hurt she’d caused?
Lucifer Purchase links: Amazon B&N
by Jianne Carlo
Hades Squad Book One
Navy SEAL Linc Chapman aka Sinner’s no choir boy. Deployed to fight an-out-of-control brush fire in Alaska Sinner’s the last to exit the plane, he veers off course, his chute fails, his reserve opens, and he’s knocked unconscious. Sinner awakens in a cabin to a woman with the face of a Madonna and the body of a stripper tending to him.
Destiny’s in Alaska, armed with whips, cuffs, and copies of “classic” (who knew?) porn movies, to “sex up” former bestselling author Nadine Roland’s latest manuscript. It’s make or break it time for Destiny, career wise. The last thing she needs is a car that won’t start, a fricking blizzard, and a SEAL named Sinner who thinks she’s into BDSM because of her ‘toys’.
Sinner doesn’t believe Destiny’s an editor, not for a second. He knows they’re trapped in the cabin for at least two days. When the lights go out, Sinner knows exactly how he’s going to stay warm.
Note this was previously published by LooseId under the title A Paratrooper in a Pear Tree in December 2009. It has been expanded and newly edited.
Sinner Purchase links: Amazon B&N
The first kitchen cabinet she opened yielded ten packs of candles. By the time Lincoln returned, Destiny had finished her list, and a dozen flickering candles imbued a soft golden glow to the main cabin.
Surveying the room, she sighed.
Wasn't this every woman's fantasy?
Stuck in a warm cabin in the mountains with a hunk who looked like he knew more about sex than Antonio Banderas. So he thought she was easy. It wasn't as if they'd ever meet again in real life. And he didn't seem to have any problem with her being ten pounds overweight. Okay, okay, maybe fifteen. But who would know? In four months she turned twenty-seven, and she'd never had torrid sex, never had a hot affair.
The wind howled and lifted the top of a snowdrift into the air when Lincoln, carrying a bundle of logs, kicked the door open. An icy finger sailed on the gust, trailing a chill around Destiny's neck. She wished she'd packed a scarf, and tugged the blanket over one ear.
Lincoln used his boot to slam the door shut.
“Why didn't you start a fire?”
“With what?” She'd held a dozen lit matches to one log, and the wood didn't even catch a spark.
He looked to the ceiling.
“The normal tools—paper, logs.”
“Bite me,” Destiny snapped. All dreams of a romantic snowed-in couple of days went poof. What a bully.
He stacked the logs on the other side of the fireplace and, in less time than it took her to inhale, or so it seemed, had a blazing fire crackling and spewing sparks. The scent of pine infused the air.
“I will.” He stood and unzipped his parka. “You like it rough, I take it?”
Lincoln shrugged out of his jacket, stowed the garment on the three-hook wooden coat stand to the right of the door, turned to face her, and smiled.
She shivered. The man had a bone-melting, devil-may-care grin.
“What?” He couldn’t mean….
“You like to be bitten?” A forefinger stroked the cleft of his chin.
“None of your business. What are you? Into kink?”
“Depends on the kink. I'm not into pain, but I'm not averse to a love bite here and there. Or a few spanks.”
Spanks? She was in over her head. Cripes, she'd always wondered about that. Pervasive guilt from Sunday school lessons and spending three hours in a porn superstore made her blurt, “Look, let's get a few points cleared up. Those toys and DVDs weren't for me. I don't do that kind of stuff.” She paused, trying to erase the image from her pupils of her over his knees.
“And here I was hoping that deep throat was your specialty.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “Do we have food?”
“I made the list as you ordered.” She pointed to the sheet of paper on the kitchen counter. “We have a ton of dried beans, onions, potatoes, apples, garlic, pears, cereal. Not to mention a freezer full of meat—most of it venison. We won't starve. What are you doing?”
He'd shed his uniform jacket to reveal a black T-shirt. The thin cotton material slipped and slid around the cut of his biceps. Destiny's mouth went dry, and all the moisture in her body zipped to her labia.
“Did you find towels? Soap?”
He pulled his undershirt over his head.
Those ripped pecs, that ridged stomach, sucked all the oxygen out of the air. A swirl of chest hair, a tad darker than the sand of his brows, kissed milk-chocolate areolae, drifted and thinned like an arrowhead directing Destiny's attention to the—gulp—taut, swollen sex organ straining his tight trousers and a-begging for a viewing.
“I'm flattered, baby, but you don't wear the jaw-dropped look well.” Amusement curved his lips, and flames licked his irises, making them the color of melting brown sugar.
An inferno galloped across her body, humiliation and chagrin battling a rising fury.
“Sara? Soap? Towels?”
Sinner Purchase links: Amazon B&N
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Be on the lookout for Jianne Carlo's upcoming 2015 release(s): Prymal Hunger, Manacled, Notorious, and Carnal
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