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Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Cursed MacKinnon's series Book One


Ericka Russell thought flying to Scotland to help her eccentric aunt was the hardest obstacle of her lifetime. Little did she know, her greatest challenge came wrapped in a kilt and built like an ancient Scottish god of a man. After reciting what she thought were the beautiful words of a Gaelic poem placed at the foot of a stone statue of a man, Ericka Russell's life took an unusual turn.

Released from a curse after two hundred years, Gavin MacKinnon is freed into a time no longer his own. Seeking vengeance for the loss of his family keeps Gavin on edge. But the overpowering attraction he has for Ericka has him bedding her at every chance without thought of his wife. Guilt knots his gut. An honorable man would morn the loss of his woman, his family, his life, before lusting after another. In order to accept his fate, he must learn to live and love in today's modern times if he ever wishes to succeed in the task laid before him… find and free his brothers from the curse.

Available in e-format and paperback at



 Excerpt:

Ericka walked through the castle door and out into the rear garden. Manicured hedges lined the walkway. Rose bushes and flower beds were in full bloom. Hints of their fragrance filled the air as she continued to explore. Exiting through the rear garden gate, the beauty of the land stole her breath. A field of heather stretched for acres, ending as it blended into the woods. A slender path wove its way through the plush surroundings, tempting her to follow its secret trail.
Several yards into the field, she knelt to gather a few stems of heather. The creak of the garden gate invaded her silent reverence. A tall, dark-haired man stood hands on hips dressed complete in ancient Scotsman attire. His stance seemed familiar but she couldn’t place from where she thought she knew him.
The masculine vision in a knee length kilt, tunic tucked in at the waist, sword draped at his side, stilled the air around her. Her gaze glued to the handsome face as she crouched lower into the flowers. A strong jaw line with lips set firm hinted at his ability to kiss.  A nervous tongue darted across dry lips as her teeth bit the edge of her lip in anticipation of a taste. His dark as coal eyes startled her when they met across the field. She gasped. He couldn’t have seen her.
Not heeding the trail, his steps seemed deliberate, crushing all in his path. She wanted to run but froze in place. The intense glare of those dark eyes held hers captive. Her vocal chords refused to utter even the slightest of sounds. The man was getting closer. A scowl clearly visible and his dark eyes seemed furious. Her heart pounded. Blood rushed through her veins.
If he caught her, what would he do? Who was he? Seconds before he reached her, she willed the strength to move and bolted like a rabbit being chased by a wolf.
Heather slapped against her bare legs and stones bruised her tender feet as she raced for the cover of the woods. Close behind, heavy footsteps thundered. She urged more speed to her tiring legs and overrode the pain shooting from her aching feet.
Should have exercised more and what happened to her shoes grinded through her brain as overworked lungs grappled for air. Where was her Aunt? Where was Ned? Wasn’t there anyone around who could help her? Why was he chasing her? What had she done wrong? Was it against the law to pick heather? Just a few more steps and hopefully she’d escape the giant brute hot on her tail.
As she reached the tree line, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her to a halt. A sweaty hand slapped across her mouth suffocating the scream in her throat. Her bare feet swung out from underneath her as she hung in his vise grip several inches from the ground. His hot and heavy breath heaved across the top of her head.
The feel of his heart pounding as he held his body pressed against her back matched the overexerted rhythmic speed of her own heart. Caught but not for long. She sank her teeth into his palm, dug her nails into the arm banded around her waist and twisted until her heel connected with his knee.
“Agh!” He dropped her and stumbled slightly off-balance. Though her teeth didn’t break the skin, red bite marks riddled his palm and deep nail scratches littered his arm.
“You fiery headed wench!” His other hand whipped into her hair before she could gain her footing and balled fist-tight into her auburn locks.
Ericka fell backward against a chest of steel. His height towered over her short five-foot-two frame. The arm around her waist crushed her against the length of his body. Raggedly she gasped for air as she tried to wiggle free. Realizing with each movement, the more she fought the more he seemed to enjoy her struggle. His response was evident in the growing thickness which prodded against the small of her back.
The feel of his massive size thrilled her senses. Who was he?  And what did he want with her?
 “How many times must I ask you not to leave the castle walls?  ‘Tis not safe out here.”  His fist knotted in her hair, stretching her neck back while his lips pressed close to her ear. The heat of his breathy words sent tingles down her spine.
Who did he think she was? She had never met this man before. A man this hunky she definitely would have remembered.
       His grip loosened from her hair then slipped to her chin, tilting her head at an angle that exposed her neck. She started to tell him of his mistaken identity but the words caught in her throat when his lips lavished the tender spot. The gentle sucking of her skin between his teeth sent arrows of warmth and wetness to her pussy. Instantly, her nipples pebbled. Why was her body reacting so fiercely to his touch?
        It hadn’t been that long since she’d been laid. Or had it? Her surmising of when her last sexual encounter had been was cut short.
The grip around her waist relaxed as his hand splayed across her belly. When his thumb brushed the base of her overly plump breast, her body tensed. He was a stranger and yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. She craved his touch. Had it been the wild pursuit across the field of heather? Or was it simply the man that had her adrenaline flowing and her body reacting to his magnificent build?
M’gaol.”
His soft endearment struck a chord of heat within her soul. His voice deep, yet tender sent shivers down her spine and clouded her brain from rational thought.
“Why must you disobey me so,” he whispered against her neck as he trailed light kisses from neck to shoulder. He eased the strap of her nightgown from her shoulder until it could move no further, leaving her breasts trapped against the lace of the gown.
Sliding a hand under the lace, he freed a tender mound. Apt fingers tweaked the aching nipple into a redden peak and she felt the inner muscles of her pussy clench as if the two were connected. Opening her mouth, she should stop him but no words would form. Instead, a subtle moan escape as his fingers strummed her breasts to perfection making her body hum with need.
“Ah, at least part of you obeys me,” he whispered, twisting her body to lean into the crook of one of his strong arms. In this position, she felt off balance with her head pressed against his chest and her hands grasping at his tunic. A soft laugh escaped as he nuzzled her pert nipple then sucked it into the warm moisture of his mouth.
Air gasped between clenched teeth as her hands latched into his hair, loosening the long dark tendrils from its ponytail. Though she intended to remove him from her breast, she couldn’t. Tender circular ministrations of his masterful tongue and gentle nibbles of his teeth persuaded her to let him linger.
This couldn’t be happening. Clutching a fist tight in his hair, she knew she should stop him but it felt so good.
His other hand slipped to the lower edge of her gown and raised it, allowing him access to her moistened panties. The moment thick skilled fingers lifted the lacey edge, a protective hand slapped over his in a futile attempt to remove the active invaders from her private region.
Unhindered by her hand, the finger-shaped soldiers marched into the warmth of her tender folds. Weakened knees threatened to crumble the instant his thumb brushed her clit as another finger penetrated the private zone. Her body’s traitorous response was instantaneous and wet.
It’d been too long since her last boyfriend. He’d never made her tremble with the simple touch of his mouth on her nipple and the swift insertion of a finger.
A low renegade moan escaped her lips as his finger rocked in a gentle to and fro motion and his thumb massaged her clit to the edge of oblivion. His mouth sucked her nipple as if it gave him nourishment. Harder, faster, she grasped his hand encouraging the rhythm. Her other hand tangled in his hair, urged his mouth to continue the tortuous pleasure.
What was wrong with her? Part of her knew she should stop him, a total stranger. But, oh god, how the mystery man worked her body. Rocking harder against his hand and fabulous fingers, she was so close to orgasm.
As if he knew she wanted more, he slipped in another finger and massaged her swollen clit in harder circles, sending sparks throughout her bloodstream and flooding her system with passion filled fire.  With her eyes closed, Ericka’s head thrashed against his chest as the damned up river exploded.
Her juices flooded his hand. He shifted her limp body upright as he whispered raggedly against her ear. “Remove your undergarment.”
Not an easy feat since his fingers remained embedded, keeping her senses heightened but she did as commanded. She felt his subtle movement and instantly knew his intent.
With her panties around one ankle and her gown lifted above her waist, he nudged her legs apart with his thigh. She felt his cock glide between her dripping pussy lips from behind until it brushed against her swollen clit, teasing her unmercifully. His fingers eased the head into her tight wet entrance.
She gasped, uncertain if she could hold a man of his endowment. There had only been two others and neither came close to this man’s size. Though stop screamed through her conscience, she couldn’t.  Not an ounce of her wanted to end this unusual sexual experience.  It didn’t matter that he was a stranger, dressed in ancient clothes.  She had to have him buried deep. It was an itch she was long overdue in having scratched. 
Sex with a stranger.  Why not? She sighed, audibly as she felt him press in further.
His left arm encircled her waist as his chest pressed against her back, gently easing her forward. With her hands braced against a tree, she spread her legs further apart as he gradually entered her slickness.
M’gaol. So tight and wet, I think you enjoy the chase. It excites you.” His words were hoarse against her ear.
He pushed further, stretching her for the length of his cock, stopping when she whimpered. Tender kisses graced her neck as his fingers massaged her throbbing bud, sending moisture across his partially inserted shaft.
“’Tis not our first time together and yet, I hurt you?”
Biting her lip, she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Painful pleasure oozed through her pussy. Though his cock was the largest she’d ever had, she wanted more. She needed to feel him buried to the hilt. Never had a man so sexually talented ever wanted her. She wasn’t about to lose this chance to enjoy such pleasure simply because of a little pain. Instead of a vocal reply, she arched back, taking more of him in with her movement.
He answered her gesture with a movement of his own. Plunging into her tightness, he steadily increased his rhythm, timed faster and faster, harder and harder until neither could bear anymore. Waves of warmth and wetness crashed around them as he buried his shaft to the hilt and released his seed.
Arching back, her auburn hair scattered across her shoulders as she stretched her neck, tilting her chin upward and screamed her release. His hands cupped her breasts while still buried deep inside her body. His warm lips pressed tender kisses upon her brow.
She reached over her head to gather his face in her hands. She wanted to taste his lips, feel his tongue on hers. Rough! Like sandpaper.
Her eyes flew open. Belvedere, her aunt’s English Springer, stood straddled over her on the bed. Doggy breath greeted her along with a lavish rough tongue covered with drool-filled kisses.
“Crazy puppy, get down,” she commanded as she pushed him off. He jumped to the floor.  Barking and yelping he raced out the partially opened door.
“Needs to go to doggy school,” she muttered, flopping back on the pillows and brushing doggy slobber from her cheek.
A dream. She sighed. It had all been a dream.

4 comments:

Fiona McGier said...

Very nicely done hot excerpt! Though I still say that men in kilts remind me of my Dad, so not my kind of sexy man!

These are the kinds of dreams I like the best! Grin.

Tina Donahue said...

Looks like a great read, Tara!

jean hart stewart said...

Great excerpt...Gotta read more!

Fran Lee said...

Oh, YUM!