September Blues

 

I’m a summer person. Every year, right after the Christmas celebrations, I start looking forward to the end of winter and the start of spring. It’s much nicer to be outside when it’s warm and the first leaves begin to unfold. I enjoy working in my garden, clearing away the remains of winter, raking the dead leaves, and watching nature come alive again.

Then comes the best time. When it’s warmer, you can take longer rides through the woods. There are fewer insects, so they won't bother you or the horse. I enjoy the long daylight and warmth during summer. I don’t mind the heat either. You can relax in the sun, read a good book, or ride your bike along the river. It’s a great time!

I dread the end of August, when the nights grow cold and the days are no longer warm. My horse doesn't mind though — he’s got fur! LOL! I get the blues in September, knowing that summer is over and fall will bring gusty winds, rain, and fewer hours of sunshine. It’s time to harvest the last apples in my garden and prepare for winter. The outlook is never pretty: cold days and cold nights. I leave for work in the dark and return home after dark. It's a good time to stay home, write, or read a good book to distract myself from the nasty outside world.

Most of my books were written during the darker half of the year. Here, I present an excerpt from the final installment of my Bodyguard series featuring Jazmin and Ethan.

In this final adventure, Jazmin and Ethan face different fates, separated from each other. They must both solve the riddles that circumstances throw at them, and neither knows how the other is faring. While Ethan protects the Secretary of State, Jazmin must partner with a wounded CIA agent who escorts her from a bombing site to a safe house. There, she has to take care of him.

 

A Bodyguard in Bolivia

Excerpt

Marcus looked at her with pain in his eyes. He hadn’t changed his position on the rug in the bathroom and looked even paler than before.

She knelt beside him. “Hey, welcome back.”

“Did you run some knives through my body?”

“Yes, but only blunt ones. How do you feel?”

“Shitty. Like fucked and stepped on by some heavyweight vin-Diesel-type.” He swallowed. Briefly, a smile broke through as he looked at the sweatpants and T-shirt she had borrowed from his cupboard. “Nice wardrobe. It appears we’ve got the same outfitter.”

“Your blood ruined my Gucci two-piece. Can you get up?”

“It’s nice and warm here.” He begged with his eyes. “I always wanted to spend time on a rug. I’ve never done that before.”

In spite of her worries, Jazmin was touched. “I’ll help you up. It’s better for you to lie in a bed than on the floor, don’t you think? Come on,” she insisted when he didn’t move. “You made it this far. You’ll make the three steps to the bedroom, too.” She took away the blanket.

Marcus gasped when he tried to push off the ground one-handed. “Fuck! That’s not gonna work.”

“I said I’d help. God, you’re one stubborn mule.” Jazmin grabbed his upper arm. “Get on your knees, then slowly onto your feet. I’ll steady you.”

“That hurts, too.”

“You have a cut on your thigh. I stitched you up.”

“And took away my pants, too? That’s what I call thorough.”

“Shut up and move!”

Swearing under his breath, Marcus got to his feet, his head hanging, and panted like a runner. He leant heavily on her, but shuffled into the bedroom, biting his lips. “Home, sweet home.”

“Have you always been a sarcastic idiot?” Jazmin asked.

He sat on the bed and she arranged the pillows for him to lean against. When he strained to inch backward, she lifted his legs on the mattress, then glanced at his face and saw his grin.

“I’ve been an idiot until the day of my promotion to sarcastic idiot. But thanks for the praise.”

Jazmin lowered her chin, smiling in spite of the situation. She felt caught in an absurd scene from a Jim Jarmusch movie, where tragic and comedy walked side by side.

“It’s a good sign you aren’t slapping my idiotic face again.”

Jazmin shook her head. “I didn’t want you to collapse.”

“Not so soon. Anyway.” Marcus touched her hand gently, and she felt him shiver. “Of all the deep-in-shit things that happened today—I can’t say how happy I am you helped me out.”

“You saved my life.” Her voice was small, and the terror of the tragedy hit her with might and main. “My life, but…” She turned away and wept, her face hidden behind her hands and shoulders heaving.

“Jazmin…”

“I…I’ll get you the blanket.” She fled the room, only to stop in the corridor, blind with tears and shaken by fear. She knew nothing about the incidents at the conference building, nothing about the fate of the others, and nothing about the man in the bedroom. In all the tragedy of the day, he could be the one pulling the strings behind the bombing.

·         * * *

 

It was an editor’s choice book in the month of its release

http://www.extasybooks.com/editors-choice/?utm_source=MadMimi&utm_medium=email&utm_content=Great+deals%2C+Giveaways+and+more%21&utm_campaign=20180721_m146351109_New+releases+from+Zenina+Masters%2C+Charlie+Richards%2C+Giveaways+and+MORE%21&utm_term=eXtasy+Books+Editor_27s+Choice+Books_21

 

visit my website www.annraina.com

 

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Not Just a Summer Fling...

 

After writing five books, my muse and I realized that Ryan Griffith, Ethan Mahoney's partner and sidekick, was getting way too little attention. Ryan was the goofy, young guy. He was a professional bodyguard, but also a man who had not yet settled down. He loved playing pranks on his fellow partners, and when it came to partying, he was the last one standing. So, we decided to write a story with him in the spotlight. The result was a novel that starts as an easy summer fling.

Two young people just want to have fun in the sun and go about their business when their vacation ends. But then Ryan is accused of murdering the recently elected mayor of Lima, and all hell breaks loose. The evidence seems overwhelming, and Ryan is thrown in jail. He quickly realizes that he’s alone, doesn’t speak the language, and is facing criminals far more sinister than he had ever imagined.

My muse was very happy with the brainstorming process—the sudden change from sunbathing to showering with thugs and from swimming in the sea to fighting for his life. (She’s not shy about putting on a dramatic show! LOL!) We had the chance to showcase Ryan’s character and demonstrate that the seemingly carefree man can stand up for himself.

Due to its length, the story was published in two volumes.

 

Here’s an excerpt for you to enjoy…

 

Excerpt (the summer fling begins…)

Sara’s hand traveled across his shoulder beyond his collarbone. Smiling tentatively, she bit her lower lip. “Hmm, I noticed you shave your chest.”

Ryan, smiling lopsidedly, told her with a glance it was quite a change of subject. “Yes, I do. I read that most South American men consider this…strange and would never do it.”

“I haven’t seen it before. Most men like that mass of hair as if it makes them more…manly. Stress their heritage or their male accessories. I don’t see it that way. A man shouldn’t be judged by his hair…or lack of it.” Sara giggled. “May I?”

“Touch my chest? Do you think you need permission after we’ve already played in the water?”

Sara smiled and gently reached out to touch him with her fingertips.

Ryan cocked his head, lowering his chin to give her an inviting grin. “Now, that was kinda shy. May I ask you again—will you touch me? And put a little feeling into it?”

Sara flicked her tongue across her lips, brows arched. “Are you…shaven someplace else? Beyond your face?”

Ryan hesitated, evading her glance once again. “Yes.”

She put her hand over her mouth, holding back her words, but with a sparkle of curiosity asked, “Why?”

Again, Ryan hesitated.

“Too personal, hmm?” Sara flinched. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain.”

“It’s just a good feeling,” Ryan said quietly. “I like it that way.”

Sara nodded, inching closer to put both hands on his chest, gently caressing him up to his shoulders. In slow-motion, she sat on his lap in a way that sped up his pulse immediately. His mouth was dry.

“Would you mind me…?” She stopped, searching his face.

Ryan swallowed, putting down the bottle. The tension had been building, and still a part of him didn’t want to follow the feeling. His voice was breathy. “You want permission to have a look? Or more?”

“I’d go for more.” A smile curled the corner of her lips sans lipstick. He found her lovely just the way she was. “And I bet I won’t be disappointed.”

***

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All my books are published by extasybooks.com and also available at online bookstores.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As my muse and I began working on the fifth installment of the series, she suggested including horseback riding. Why? I’ve been riding for more than two decades, yet I've never written about it in my books. She told me that my experience would serve me well. We developed a plotline in which the Secretary of State’s wife is a passionate rider who wants to spend time with her husband while on vacation. The story naturally deals with horses, riding, bodyguards, and nasty people who appear to disturb the peaceful wintertime.

Since riding isn't something you can learn over the weekend, the bodyguards—especially the new guy, Cameron—have their problems with the big animals. Of course, there's also the pain that comes with sitting on horseback for a few hours… LOL.

Enjoy!

Description

The trouble with a vacation is that you never get what you wish for.

Riding and hiking in the New York State national forest—what could be more recuperative? When Secretary Nolan’s wife decides to have a pleasant week of riding in the national forest she can’t anticipate the trouble waiting for all of them, and the snowstorm is just the beginning.

Excerpt

Close to the stable’s wide gates Jazmin jerked back seeing a movement in the shadow. “Who goes there?”

Cameron peeked around the corner. The setting sun reflected in his blue eyes, and she thought that behind the lines of tiredness he was a good-looking man.

“A sentry’s question? You’ve been together with this Ethan-guy too long.”

“What’re you doing in the dark on the ground?” She knelt beside him, checking him up and down quickly. “Anything wrong?”

He lowered his chin. His voice was strained. “Aside from being totally exhausted…no.”

“You need something to drink and certainly a good meal after the long ride. The others will be in the kitchen. Should I help you up?”

“Guess why I’m down here? My legs feel like Jell-O. I was glad I made it this far. The others just walked off, but I—” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Just let me sit here for a while, then I’ll come in.”

“My, you’re a bad liar!” She grinned when he didn’t bring up the energy to deny it. “I’ll go and get Ryan.”

“No! Not Ryan! If you do that, the jokes will go through the roof. Don’t want to be ridiculed by all the tough guys, especially that Nathanial-something. He’s just super cool and so—”

“Aloof?”

“Yeah.”

“So I heard.”

Cameron grimaced as he changed position. His thighs trembled. “Now, look at this. I guess I better plan to stay the night.”

“No, you won’t. It’s already damn cold. Ryan won’t mock you, or I’ll have him assigned to the next ride for sure.” She threw Cameron a sweet glance. “He’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

With Ryan in her wake, she returned to the stables. Cameron hadn’t moved and looked more miserable than before.

Ryan reached out to him. “Tell me, tough guy, how long haven’t you ridden…camel or wooden horse or whatever?”

“A year? Maybe more.” Cameron took off his woolen hat to scratch his thick blond hair. “I can’t remember.”

“I understand. Look, pal, your legs are cramped. So, if it’s not ruining your ultimate male appearance, I’d just throw you over my shoulder and—”

“No! I won’t let you—”

“There’s a back door,” Jazmin interrupted. “We already spoke about it.”

“About carrying me like a flour sack? Are you nuts?”

Ryan made a face. “I told you he wouldn’t go for it.” He turned back to his colleague. “Shall I knock you out and pretend we had a brawl? I can do that. Everyone believes I’m crazy as a shithouse rat as Stephen King would say. So, what’s there to worry about?” When Cameron hesitated, Ryan bent down to quickly pull him over his shoulder, a move that caused Cameron to cry out and Jazmin to step aside and stifle laughter. She caught the hat he dropped. “Hold still and bear it like a man.”

“God, this is worse than the careening of a ship!” Cameron groaned but accepted his lot. “Hope this is a short walk. My head’s exploding.”

When they passed by, Teresa opened her mouth, too flabbergasted to say a word. Jazmin put a finger to her lips and whispered, “Don’t mention this to anyone, okay?” As she glanced over her shoulder she saw Teresa smile. She opened the back door and directed Ryan through the corridor and into Cameron’s room where he put him down unceremoniously on the bed. Cameron bit the sleeve of his jacket and squeezed his eyes shut.

“See?” Ryan panted. “Nobody saw us, and you’ll pretend this didn’t happen. My, have you gained weight? I remember you being slender when we met with you on the yacht.”

“I hate you, Ryan Griffith.” Cameron made the effort—groaning and clenching his teeth—to get out of his thick jacket.

Ryan lifted two fingers. “That was the second time that I carried you, buddy.”

“Shall I give you a hand?” Jazmin asked Cameron, already pulling off his boots.

Ryan doubled over with laughter. “Does Ethan know you’re here to undress a man? I mean—”

“For goodness sakes, Jazmin, leave me alone,” Cameron pleaded. “I promised Ethan to never make advances on you and now—”

“Let me do it,” Ryan interrupted, smiling like a shark. “I’ll look much better undressing him than you.”

“Are you sure?” Jazmin divided her attention between them. “I’m not convinced you aren’t up to mischief, Ryan.”

“Hey, you blackmailed me, Jaz, and I did what you asked. Now hop out of here.”

“Thanks for your help.” Cameron looked at Jazmin, then rolled his eyes when Ryan pulled down his pants. He tried in vain to stop him. “Don’t think of getting the hang of this!”

While Ryan made a show of undressing Cameron in spite of his protests Jazmin slipped out of the room and closed the door. She laughed so hard her belly hurt. She laughed even more when Ethan turned around the corner, a questioning look on his face.

“Weather forecast tells of more snow and…are you okay?”

She wouldn’t tell, even if it meant not breathing for a minute.

***

You can find my books at www.extasybooks.com and at online bookstores.

Take a look at my work at www.annraina.com, and follow me on Instagram @ann_raina_author.

 

 

Writing the series became a mild obsession. It was mild because I have a day job, a horse, and a garden that I must take care of. I wrote in the late afternoons and on weekend nights. I didn't get much writing done when the weather was nice and sunny... You get the picture.

Despite the distractions, my muse and I quickly finished the plot, and I began another writing adventure with Jazmin and Ethan. I felt at home describing their life together and the adventures they survived. My editor once told me that she doesn’t read my books in the evening because they are too suspenseful.

This is exactly where I want to be—in an action movie with main characters that I love playing out before my eyes.

The excerpt from A Bodyguard's Trip to Peru begins when Jazmin and Ethan are captured by kidnappers after a hard-fought battle.

 

Description

While on a conference with the Secretary of State Ethan and Jazmin get confronted with terrorists, drug dealers, and a bunch of nasty people.

The conference for counter-terrorist cooperation in Lima was meticulously prepared. But for all that Ethan and the team of bodyguards can’t avoid a clash with assassins trying to kill the Secretary of State and an encounter with the resident drug cartel out for revenge. Once more the couple fights for their lives.

Excerpt

He put an arm around her shoulder when she huddled against his side. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah.” She put a hand on his belly. “They gave us enough food and drink to be satisfied. I was allowed to brush and braid my hair, and we could wash ourselves. I hadn’t put it beyond them to hand you a razor. You look like a thug by now, with that stubble.”

“Thanks a lot.” He gave a curt bow and ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I don’t mind skipping shaving for a few days.”

Her voice sank to a threatening growl. “You won’t show up like some grizzly hunter on Christmas day, right?”

Ethan pursed his lips as if pondering the possibility. “If I’m to play Santa, I need more than stubble. I should start growing a beard right away.”

Jazmin made a disgusted face and he chuckled. “Imagine your mom’s face when I open the door in some checkered flannel shirt, unkempt, and with a beard reaching down to my chest. What would she say?”

“She’d check the name plate and ask if her son-in-law had moved.” Jazmin shook her head. “Don’t do that to her. You know how much she loves to show off with her famous son-in-law, the bodyguard. She’ll bring her closest friends and their families. I bet she’d faint seeing you like a scoundrel.”

“And you?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What would you say?”

Jazmin replied in her bedroom voice, “I’d rip that ugly shirt off your body, push away the beard, and kiss my way down your navel. If you’d dare to wear anything else, it would have to go, so I could check whether your accessories were still intact on Christmas day.”

Ethan swallowed. He appeared out of breath. “You don’t like checkered flannel shirts?”

“I like unwrapping you to see you in nothing, Ethan, and you damn well know it.” She cocked her head. “The beard would be next on my list, of course.” And when he arched his brows, she added, “I like my man neat, clean-shaven. That reminds me that I’ve always wanted to wet shave you.”

“Wet shave? Why’s that?”

Jazmin ran a hand across his chin and cheek, smiling about his disgust. “The feel of it. Nothing compares to a wet shave. It’s so…smooth.”

“You really want to do that?”

“A girl can have dreams, right?”

Ethan inched away from her to look her in the eyes. “If that’s something you like—why haven’t you told me?”

Jazmin gave him an innocent look. “Because you once told me you didn’t like the time and effort. Especially not with your fast growing beard.”

“You remember that? After such a long time?”

Jazmin nodded. “I do.”

He shook his head, then a smile broke through. “Let’s make a deal, princess. Once back at home, I’ll allow you to shave me to your heart’s content, okay? That’s my Christmas gift for you.”

She bit her lips. “Just the beard?”

***

You can find my books at www.extasybooks.com and at online bookstores.

Take a look at my work at www.annraina.com, and follow me on Instagram @ann_raina_author.

 

A Bodyguard's Vacation

 

 

After Ethan suffered gruesome torture at the hands of a Colombian drug lord, my muse decided that he, Jazmin, and their best friend, Ryan, needed a long vacation in the Bahamas. (Yes, she’s the motherly type who cares even for book characters.)

While on a boat tour, the motor fails, but luckily, the captain of a large yacht rescues them. Everything’s fine until pirates seize the yacht. Once again, Ethan and Ryan must prove themselves and save the day.

On a side note, the Lürssen Werft Bremen kindly provided pictures and useful information about one of the largest yachts ever built. Therefore, all details, including rooms, staircases, and hiding places, are correct. I had a poster of the decks that was enlarged to an enormous size pinned to my wall for the duration of the writing process.

When we finished the work, my muse told me that she immensely enjoyed the character development, not only of the main characters, but also of those created solely for this novel. She liked one of the yacht owner’s bodyguards so much that we changed his job. He became a member of Ethan’s team in a later novel.

 

Excerpt

 

The airport concourse at Nassau, Bahamas, was filled with hundreds of joyous people on their way to a warm and sunny vacation, waiting for their baggage. Even though they were there for leisure time, Jazmin felt the slight tension running through Ethan’s body like an electric undercurrent as he scrutinized the throng. His profession as a bodyguard demanded constant alertness while working and was hard to switch off. She had an arm around his waist, feeling wonderful and at ease, and hoped she could persuade Ethan to loosen up a bit. Ten days of sun and fun lay ahead of them. Ryan, his colleague and best friend, took his backpack off the belt to place it beside Ethan’s larger suitcase on the cart.

“That’s all?” Jazmin asked, amused.

“Hey, what do I need besides board shorts and some underwear?” Ryan made a face and ran a hand through his short-cropped blond hair. He held up a finger. “Okay, I brought one dress shirt—a really good one—and pants. But that’s about it. I’m here to dive and swim and sunbathe. And, well, you know, get my lady between the sheets.”

He wiggled his brows and Ethan inhaled noisily. “Thanks for not over-sharing.” He looked out for the second suitcase while Ryan grimaced.

“Thanks for understanding that my fun might be different from yours.” Ryan pulled out a Zippo and started playing with it. The distinct sound of opening and closing the brass lighter attracted the attention of a young boy until his mother gathered her luggage and pulled him away. “Tell me, Ethan, you got one, too, don’t you?”

“Yep.” Ethan stretched his six feet three inch frame to scrutinize the entire luggage belt, but still couldn’t make out Jazmin’s suitcase.

“You both don’t smoke.” Jazmin looked from Ryan to Ethan, who pulled his Zippo out. It was a matte-finished black one with the small sign of the US Army. “So why carry a lighter?”

Ryan took it for comparison to his shiny silvery one and gave her the look. “You never know when a breathtaking woman comes along and wants you to give her… fire.”

Jazmin rolled her eyes, giggling. “Oh, I see where this is going. But honestly, is this still a subject these days? I mean, women no longer depend on men offering fire.”

“Ah, depends on the fire, my beautiful lady.” Ryan gave a gamy grin.

Jazmin boxed his upper arm and he pretended to be hurt.

“All soldiers get one when they begin their training,” Ethan said without turning. He shrugged. “And you just carry it with you—like your keys, penknife, pants.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, waving a finger at his friend. “Better not lose your pants, pal.”

“You’re making this up.” Jazmin laughed.

“No. Zippo produced these lighters especially for the army. They catch fire everywhere because they don’t work with gas. They’ve got a wick that is constantly powered with fuel, so it keeps the flame steady even if it’s windy, wet or whatever.” Ethan showed the construction to Jazmin, then put it back in his pocket.
Ryan upturned his eyes. “I just wanted you to show me yours—which is a great one, by the way—and not get a history lesson.”

“The lesson was for Jazmin,” Ethan replied evenly. “Not for you. I know you wouldn’t listen.”

Ryan opened his arms wide. “I love you, too, pal!” He laughed when the people around him looked irritated or grinned. “You don’t have to make it so difficult for me!”

Ethan’s smile got wider. “You don’t have to tell everyone around that the kid has arrived.”

“I’m like that.” Ryan nudged Ethan’s side. “Come on, you knew what to expect when you accepted Cheryl and me on this trip.”

“I had hopes that—maybe just for her—you’d behave like an adult.”

“Been there, done that. Didn’t like it. Boring. And don’t—” he nudged him harder—”behave like Walter. I’m on vacation. I don’t need another boss.”

“Well, I see what you do when you got none around.”

“Right, that opens up a lot of possibilities.” He looked as if he was actually pondering something serious. “Can’t wait for Cheryl to arrive.”

“Does she take Walter’s place?” Ethan chuckled. “As far as I remember she at least looks better.”

“She’s not my boss, you crank.” He playfully boxed Ethan’s chest. “She loves me. We’ve been together for a year already. If she had trouble—”

“Being a boss?” Laughing, Ethan evaded Ryan’s attempt to punch him and brought up his arms in defense. “Yeah, next time you should take a vacation with Walter.”

“You’d want to see that, hmm?” Ryan cocked his head. “I remember he spent three weeks with me… on a boat. We were pretty close.”

“I remember him taking a vacation soon afterward.” Jazmin lowered her chin while she arched her brows. “Alone.”

“But seriously,” Ryan went on, making a face in Jazmin’s direction, “if Cheryl wanted Mr. Super-serious, she’d have taken one of those manager-boss guys she works for.”

Jazmin looked at the emptying luggage belt. “My suitcase isn’t here. Damn it.”

***

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For the Love of Jazmin

 

After my muse and I finished The Secretary's Bodyguard—followed by the editing process and the book's release—we both felt an undeniable urge to write another story with the same protagonists. We had fallen in love with Jazmin and Ethan, as well as the other bodyguards of his team. However, we didn't want to repeat the story (though that's always tempting, right?). So, I came up with the idea that Jazmin had been a police officer in Bogota and that her testimony had put a cartel boss behind bars. Unfortunately, the boss’s son, Raoul, finds out that Jazmin is still alive. Instead of going after Jazmin, he kidnaps her husband and brings him to Colombia to force her to follow.

This story has a much darker mood, filled with despair, but also with the love these two people have for each other. They would do everything in their power to escape together. My muse and I spent many afternoons over coffee and cake plotting and thinking about Raoul and his minions. It’s easy to make the bad guys seem evil, but it’s much harder to explain their backgrounds and motivations. Raoul is a criminal, yes, but he’s also still in love with Jazmin, who was by his side back in the day. He yearns for her like a teenager and wishes for nothing more than for her to love him again. So, while he treats Ethan like a hardcore criminal, he schmoozes Jazmin with clothes, food, and many other amenities.

Readers told me that they like how the book centers on Jazmine as the strong female lead who never wavers, no matter how bad the situation gets. From day one, she plans how to free her husband while trying to appease Raoul, no matter the cost of being friendly with the man who tortures her loved one.

 

Here’s an excerpt from the moment Jazmin meets her captured husband while Raoul watches her closely.

 

Raoul opened a thick door with a security key and held it for her. “Don’t dare go near the cell, Isabel. You can have a look, but don’t touch.”

Jazmin heard him come down the steps behind her and a guard stopped her three yards off the cell. “Ethan! Oh, my god!” Her first impulse when she saw Ethan in the cell was to turn and kill Raoul in cold blood. She wouldn’t be fickle when it came to the choice of weapons, but she had none handy, and the guard had made sure she carried nothing in her purse that suited as a weapon. Jazmin swallowed the urge and closed her eyes for a moment, trying, hoping to cope with the situation somehow. Ethan had been blindfolded and gagged and his hands were shackled to a ring above his head at the wall. He was wearing running pants with buttons at the sides, but neither shirt nor shoes. His chest was covered with welts, and when he heard her voice he began pulling the shackles, making sounds deep in his throat.

Raoul came up beside her, staring at her face. “Ah, yes, I want a picture of that expression, of your loss of equanimity. That was exactly how I felt when you took away my father and condemned him to rot in prison.”

“Is that so?” Tears trickled down her cheeks. She trembled, seeing her husband fight uselessly. “Let me get to him, please.”

“No.” Raoul went past her and stood to glare at her. “He’s still alive and, as you can see, he’s unharmed.” He turned his gaze heavenward. “In a way.”

“Unharmed?” She was furious. “And the bullet wound?”

Raoul blinked. “Bullet wound?”

“On the second video I heard a shot and Ethan screamed.”

“Yes, that’s what you heard.” He opened his hands, palms up. “I didn’t do it. A bullet wound is hard to treat. And it’s messy.” He made a face of disgust. “So one of my men shot, the other hit your husband’s balls. That made him scream for his mommy.”

“I don’t believe you.” She tried to pass the guard, but he held her arm, squeezing hard.

“You want the full show before dinner?”

Jazmin looked at him, unrelenting. She freed her arm, but didn’t dare go further.

“Ah, that beautiful hard look. I remember! Oh, my lady, you’re such a marvel. But, yes, if you want the show...” He gestured a guard who stood watch close by. He unlocked the door, entered the cell and ripped open the buttons so that the pants fell off. Ethan’s legs, too, carried the marks of whip and cane. He struggled again to no avail, clenching and unclenching his fists in the restraints.

“See? No bullet wound.” Raoul’s voice was a warm baritone, trying to soothe her. “I told you. I wouldn’t do that.”

Jazmin swallowed, trying to compose herself. Her words were a shallow whisper. “You messed with my mind.”

“Guilty.” His look tried for sincerity. “But I’m not a monster, Isabel. Not at all.”

Jazmin felt strangely grateful that he had spared Ethan the pain of a bullet wound. He was hurt and in pain, but the welts didn’t threaten his life. She was close to retching, though, when she realized Raoul had done this because he knew about her feelings and used them against her. Her gaze searched Ethan’s bound body. His breathing had accelerated, but the gag inhibited any word.

Raoul nodded toward the guard. “Dress him again.”

The guard did as ordered. Once more her stomach turned. She had just wanted to ask him and he had anticipated her wish to have him clothed again. She saw his friendly expression. He expected her to thank him for his benevolence. Jazmin swallowed, thinking that this was just the beginning. She wanted to scream and scratch his eyes out. She was furious beyond feeling they were both in the palm of his hand. It left her drained and aimless. She had no threat handy that would change Raoul’s mind.

Raoul came back and gently took her arm. “Come, my lady, it’s time to properly welcome you. You’ve had a long journey and I’m here to regale you with everything your heart desires.”

“Then let Ethan and me go.”

Raoul thrust his head back and laughed heartily. “Oh, come on, you know I won’t do that. You both just arrived.”

“Well, you obviously had enough time at your hands to have him beaten up more than once.”

“That, my lady, was his decision.” He nudged her through the door, closed it again and directed her back to the living room. “He longs to fight, obviously, and if he does, he’ll receive a proper answer.”

***

 

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The Bodyguard Series

 

After writing several science fiction stories, my muse and I decided to try our hand at a contemporary romance novel with a twist. So, we mixed romance with action. The result was The Secretary's Bodyguard, starring Ethan Mahoney, the bodyguard of the Secretary of State, and his lovely wife, Jazmin. During an official visit to Colombia, the team is attacked and chased out of town and must find its way back from the jungle on foot. The team comes together better than expected, thanks to the bodyguards’ excellent leadership and Jazmin’s toughness and her preparedness for a survival tour.

My muse and I didn't initially intend to write a sequel, but the characters grew on us as I wrote, and seven more stories followed in the years that followed. We loved the main characters, as well as the ones on the team. For instance, we had planned to kill off the secretary’s assistant during the escape but decided against it. It was a wise decision—in the sequels, the same assistant plays an important role and becomes a valuable asset.

Yes, we had fun with all the stories, characters, and twists that practically wrote themselves. LOL.

Enjoy!

 

Description

Ethan Mahoney loves his wife dearly and arranges for her to accompany him on his assignment as bodyguard of the Secretary of State to Colombia. The journey ends in a fiasco that leaves the secretary and his entourage stranded in the Colombian woods with terrorists on their heels, not knowing if they will survive and find their way back to civilization.

Excerpt

“You would’ve slapped him?” His voice tipped over with the last word. Ethan tried to imagine his wife hitting Walter Coleman, the incarnation of a strict, very conservative and always serious chief of security. It was funny. Reconsidering that she had brought down Ryan, the image lost some of its entertainment value. He frowned as he watched her very nice butt on a westbound trail that only she saw. There was that little idea in the back of his head he better ignored.

“He insinuated that I might be in a setup with the terrorists following us. It’s completely stupid, I know, but that’s the way he thinks.” She stopped on the way up and turned to where Ethan reached her. Her frown was deep and she looked tired. “He does his job and he was right to remind you to do yours. We’re not here because of some weekend trip gone wonky. You have to work and probably risk your life saving the secretary.”

He put his hands on her hips. “Princess, can you imagine that I put his life over yours? It’s not gonna happen. I’m very proud that you’re so brave. So tough. It might come out all wrong, but it’s not. I didn’t expect you to be like this. Not even with the police training and all.”

“I panic on the inside, Ethan.” She caressed his stubbly cheek and ran her thumb over the cleft in his chin. He saw her fight off emotions that would lead to tears. “I’m so afraid you’ll get hurt. And that those men catch up to us and kill us all in cold blood. I can’t stand the thought that you’ll throw yourself in the line of fire and that those bastards finally end what they began.” She combed his hair with her fingers. “I can’t think of a life without you.”

“I’ll work hard so no one gets killed. Would that be okay?”

She trembled as he took her in his arms. “They’re still coming after us and they’ve got the larger firepower, don’t they? Please, Ethan, tell me that we stand a chance.”

He let go and smiled at her. “Well, we got you with us. And if I got the secretary right, he’ll hire you as recruitment. Wait an hour and he’ll order Walter to hand you a gun.”

She turned and walked on. “I can fire a gun. I was a police officer.”

Ethan, his eyes already back on her derrière, opened his mouth for a reply, rethought the argument, and kept silent until she turned with a frown.

“Do you doubt I can shoot?”

Again, Ethan knew he was in trouble, no matter how he answered the question. “Walter…won’t hand a weapon to anyone he hasn’t personally trained. He’s…nuts when it comes to weapons and shooting. He wouldn’t let you touch—”

“He’d reject my help even if Ryan can’t shoot anymore?”

Ethan heard the outrage in her voice and called himself stupid to have brought up the subject. His mind juggled the possible ways to end the discussion. “Ryan’s fine, even with his left hand. I saw him train.”

“But, honestly, if those bastards come up to us, we stand a better chance to fight if I’m with you.”

“You’re right.” He didn’t know what else to say. Yet her argument would fall on the deaf ears of Walter Coleman. Ethan marched on, pondering how to avoid the unnecessary confrontation between his strong wife and the even stronger chief of security.

***

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It’s been a strange start to 2026. After struggling with the plot, my writing, and the overwhelming political realities for a year, I finished my latest work in progress. After debating with my muse, I changed a few chapters and cut about four thousand words in the middle. Then, the last five thousand words — the big showdown, if you will — came quite naturally. I wrote seven days a week to reach the finish line, only to learn that my publishing house doesn't accept new submissions. I admit the news hit me hard. Since 2008, I had only published with this one publisher, and I was happy with how they handled sales and paid royalties. Now, I am left with a finished story and must decide whether to find a new publisher or self-publish. It's a big decision, and I would appreciate your input on what I should do and the pros and cons of each option.

In the meantime, I would like to share an excerpt from my last published book, Dirty Works.

Just when you think you have found the perfect match, you may find yourself bursting into flames.
 
Excerpt

Nicolas left his hideout cautiously. There was no way of knowing how many burglars he was up against. The carpet under his bare feet was soft and warm, swallowing every sound. He had crossed the room when he became aware of a shadow at the next door, which led to the parlor, Mr. Hollander’s favor-ite abode. The aroma of expensive tobacco was in the air, mingling with that of leather and faintly of flowers. He noticed that there were sandy shoe traces from at least two persons on the otherwise spotless carpet. The moment he stepped beyond the threshold, a man attacked him from the right. Nicolas blocked the man’s arm, twisted it around and thrust the man face-first against the wall. The impact stunned him amid the screams of pain. He went down and lay unmoving. Nicolas let go of the man’s arm to face the second opponent, who aimed a pistol at him. Instinctively, Nicolas turned away, and the projectile passed him soundlessly. Before the shooter could pull the trigger again, Nicolas closed the gap, kicked the man in the shin, and twisted the gun out of his hand, turning his body into him. It had not yet reached the floor when the man boxed Nicolas in the kidney twice so forcefully it was both hurtful and stunning. Gasping for air, Nicolas rammed his elbow into the attacker’s midsection, gaining the advantage to turn and punch the man in the face, twice, three times, driving him backward. His side hurt, but for the moment he had his eyes on his opponent and ignored the pain. Nicolas kicked the man’s knee, triggering a groan, then kicked higher at the man’s chest. The opponent hit the wall behind him, and Nicolas was upon him, hitting him hard in the face once again. The man’s defense crumbled—he couldn’t keep up his fists. Nicolas heard a voice calling out in shock behind him. Quickly he swiveled the injured man around him so that he was a shield against yet another silent bullet. A third man had crossed the threshold into the parlor. Wide-eyed and obviously surprised by the situation, he turned tail and ran back through the living room toward the side entrance of the house.

“Fuck!” Nicolas dropped the now unconscious intruder and pursued the third gangster on bare feet. He heard glass shatter with a deafening noise, as if the living room’s mighty candelabra had hit the floor.It was the glass cabinet. The shards lay scattered across the floor, glistening in the afternoon sunlight, too broadly spread to jump over. Nicolas was lucky he came to a skittering halt before stepping into the glass. “I don’t believe this!” Nicolas put his hands on his hips, catching his breath. He heard the third man run down the hall and leave the building, shouting an order in a language Nicolas didn’t understand.

On the way back to the intruders, he tore off the power line of a floor lamp and used it to tie up the two men. Both were unresponsive, and he had his first good look at them. They were both of Asian origin, solidly built, with hair cut so short their scalps shone through, in their late twenties. The second man he had beaten had a shiny silver dart in his chest. Nicolas refrained from touching it. He searched their pockets but didn’t find a passport or a wallet. He also did not find backpacks or bags to transport stolen goods. “What were you guys up to?” he murmured as he left them behind to search the house. On the way, he grabbed a phone from the hook to call the police.

When he couldn’t find any other intruders, he fetched a pair of shoes from the bedroom, a few clothes for Jacklyn and himself, and went to open the closet. “Hey, lady, good to see you.”

Jacklyn embraced him, sighing with relief. She looked up to him with a frown. “You look… chipper.”

“What did you expect? Your badass FBI agent knows howto use his fists.”

*

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Books are available at online bookstores.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

 

What kind of person are you when it comes to Christmas shopping? Are you someone who collects throughout the year, or are you astonished to find out that Christmas Eve is only three weeks (or three days??) away?

I’m a hoarder. I start buying gifts in August, put them in a safe place, and hope to remember where I put them by December 20th. I always remember that I bought gifts, but there was one year when I knew for sure that I had bought a gift for my best friend. However, I couldn't remember where I put it, so I ended up buying a new one. Maybe it was the same one. I can’t recall because the first gift never turned up.

As I reflect on the past year and count my blessings, finishing a new novel is not among them. I struggled through most of the writing process. I still have about 5,000 words left to write, but I haven't written anything recently. Yes, I have a lot of work to pay my bills, and I have to ride my horse. The colder it gets, the more he needs to be ridden, otherwise he'll be completely out of control next time. So, my time to sit down at the computer is limited.

But back to the blessings. My friends and I are healthy. My two cats and horse are living well in their golden years. I still have my job, which is not bad these days when so many companies are reducing their workforce. So, really, there is nothing to complain about. I hope all of you who are struggling with work or personal problems find solutions that will make you happier in 2026. Take care of yourselves and stay healthy!

See you all next year!

 

Since I’ve never written a Christmas story before, I’ll share an excerpt from Riding with a Bodyguard, (book five in the series) with you. Have a great time!

Description

The trouble with a vacation is that you never get what you wish for.

Riding and hiking in the New York State national forest—what could be more recuperative? When Secretary Nolan’s wife decides to have a pleasant week of riding in the national forest she can’t anticipate the trouble waiting for all of them, and the snowstorm is just the beginning.

Excerpt

“Sir, aside from protocol—are you kidding me?” Walter Coleman’s voice was serious, his gaze set on Secretary’s Nolan’s benevolent, amused face. “I mean, you’re telling me this as a joke at my expense, right?” He arched his brows and cocked his head, watching the secretary take off his glasses for polishing. “Sir?”

His voice was gentle. “Walter, I’ve been married to my wife for more than thirty years by now. That’s a long time. Much longer than the time I spent as a student, soldier or politician.” He put his glasses back on and looked at the chief of security. “Diane was born and raised in Lake Placid. While the other kids were skiing and playing ice hockey, she rode. Her parents kept horses as long as she lived there. Though she had to move with me to Washington because of my work, she’s never stopped riding. She simply loves it.”

“I know that, sir.”

“If you know that—you should know better than asking me to change my wife’s plans on how to spend our few days away from all appointments. I promised to fulfill a wish. She’s been telling me about a cross-country tour on horseback for half a year. Virtually since the day she…never mind.” He lowered his chin. “Honestly, Walter, are you kidding me asking me to change my wife’s mind?”

Walter exhaled loudly, and only because Nolan knew him inside and out did he dare show impatience. “You’re telling me your wife wants to ride from one lodge to the next, every day another accommodation? Through the woods of New York State?”

“That’s the plan, yes.” Nolan turned to the small table at the window overlooking the garden where he had left his glass. “Away from all streets, away from all the hassle—just a few people enjoying days in the wilderness. Hopefully with good weather.” He smiled over the rim. “I know you’re making calculations, Walter, so let me tell you there’s no other way than for all bodyguards to accompany us on horseback.”

“No motorcycles?”

“None. Period. Don’t come with helicopters or planes or drones or whatever you had on your list.” Nolan put down the glass, looking completely at ease. “Aside from the fact that there’s no driving on motorcycles through a national forest—who would come and bother us? I’m not the most wanted person in the United States, am I? I’m also not on the list of endangered celebrities and such.”

Walter lifted his hands to stress his argument. “I understand that I can’t make you change your mind—”

“No, you mean I won’t risk my health trying to change my wife’s mind.”

“Yes, sir. At least consider staying at one place. One lodge. One place we can secure and make sure you’ll be safe when you get there. Take day trips through the woods, but, please, return to the same house every evening.”

Nolan frowned. “You’re telling me to bargain with Diane?”

“Eventually you’ll have to drive a hard bargain with her, sir, but under the perspective of securing your stay, I have to admit that the effort seems worth it. I can send a team with you on every route, but sending one ahead to go through security routine every afternoon and night is much more difficult. Not to mention you’d need more men with you to have them deployed in time.”

Nolan sighed but nodded. “I’ll talk to her. I guess she already had a preferred lodge in mind. As I said, she was born and raised in the area and probably knows every damn soul worth knowing.” He smoothed his shock of white hair. The slightly amused glance was back in his eyes. “Tell me, Walter, will you accompany us?”

Walter pursed his lips. He hated admitting that there were tasks he couldn’t fulfill. “No, sir,” he replied through clenched teeth. “I’ll have to stay behind. I’ve never been on horseback, and I don’t want to.”

“Ah! And who’s your choice to head the bodyguards then?”

“I’m quite convinced Ethan Mahoney qualifies for this task.”

Nolan nodded, grinning. “That fits perfectly. Find out who else knows a horse’s front from its rear.”

“Yes, sir.” Walter turned away, unable to hide his puzzlement about the secretary’s exuberant mood.

* * * *

 

Find my books at annraina.com

Follow me on Instagram at ann_raina_author

All my books are published by extasybooks.com and also available at online bookstores.

 

"Do you have a specific person in mind when you write?"

  

People often ask me that when I talk about my books and the characters my muse and I create. To be honest, I love watching movies and TV shows, so I know many actors and actresses. When I introduce a new character, aside from the usual ones in my series, I am open to my mind's suggestions. My muse and I create an outline for each character, including their age, appearance, behavior, and the role they play in the story. However, while I write, a suitable actor or actress might come to mind. From that moment on, I stick to that image and go with it. The bigger the character, the more chances I have to refine the scenes and adjust the character's behavior to my mental image. I still deliver on the character’s intentions, but it’s much more fun when I have a specific person in mind.

 

Here's an excerpt from Chosen Brothers (Book Four in the series with Jacklyn & Nick). I would like to read your proposals for who should play Joanne.

Have fun!

 

Excerpt

 

The door opened, and a lady of about forty years with a fashionable light brown bob entered the room. She smiled amiably as she took off her gloves and adjusted the purse on her left arm.

Mr. Steward’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “Hello, Joanne, nice to see you.”

“You, too, Herb.”

“You’re early today.”

“I guess so. The usual, please.” She pointed toward a table further down the room but came to the bar to stand beside Nicolas. “And his drinks are on me.”

Her smile was an invitation and a challenge—a tempting mix of class and sexiness. Nicolas had seen her from afar, but up close, she was a good-looking woman, neither overweight nor slender, with carefully applied lipstick and eyeliner. She scrutinized Nicolas’s face for a few moments with the interest of an adventurer looking for a new quest.

“Thanks, but…why?” Nicolas asked.

“Come with me, and I’ll explain.” She made a gesture toward her table. Mr. Steward was already on his way to deliver a cocktail with mint on top in a highball glass. Nicolas took his beer and set the glass down quickly enough to move the chair for her.

“Oh, I’m surprised. And impressed.” She sat down and put her gloves and the purse on the side of the table. “I hadn’t expected manners in such a boorish place.” She winked at Mr. Steward, whose forced smile didn’t reach his eyes. She added in a mock whisper, “No, he won’t be my friend tonight.”

Nicolas took the chair on the other side of the small table. “I’m Nick—”

“Murray, I know.” She lifted her glass. “Here’s to you being here with me and not in lockup.”

Nicolas raised his beer, surprised at the revelation. “I’ll drink to that—my savior, obviously.”

“Not really, but I’ll take the compliment anyway.” She licked her upper lip, and he could tell by her glance she was out for more than a quick drink at the bar.

“Would you mind explaining—”

“Of course not.” Her smile brightened the entire room. She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her folded hands as she studied him. “I watched you work, as you might’ve noticed, and then the next day, you were gone. I wondered what happened, and I asked around.” She shrugged elegantly. “It wasn’t hard to get the right answers.”

“You’re friends with the staff?”

Joanne waved her hand. “I’m friends with everybody. If you treat people like valuable human beings and not like dirt, they respect you. I needed about fifteen minutes to find out where you’d been taken.”

“You told old man Turner about me.”

Joanne chuckled. “Never call Jacob an old man. He would still father children if Mary was still alive. He considers himself at a fantastic age. Yes, he’s got arthritis, but his mind is sharp as ever.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Turner.”

“Joanne. Jo, for my friends.” She appeared to be enjoying the conversation as she sipped her drink and stared at him. “You might call me Jo.” When he didn’t reply, she set down the glass and cocked her head. “Tell me what happened. And be honest. I put some pieces together, but I’d like to hear the story from you.”

Nicolas frowned. “Why do you want to know anything about me?”

“The circumstances are self-explanatory.” She waved away his question. “Please, tell me what happened to you.”

“I was accused of stealing, but the accusation didn’t hold up. Jebediah didn’t believe me and locked me up in a stall in the old stable.”

Joanne frowned and pointed at his chafed wrists. “That’s a cheap and much too short story. I bet there’s more to it. You look like you caught some punches, and from what I’ve heard, you offered them quite a fight and almost won.”

Nicolas lowered his gaze and exhaled, both hands around the cold beer glass. The memory of the night in the cage haunted his mind like a weight on his shoulder that was gone but still tangible.

“You twisted Tyrone’s wrist. It’s not broken, but bandaged nevertheless. He won’t be using it for weeks.” Joanne shrugged. “He’s whining like an old man. Jeb took some hits, too, but doesn’t talk about it. He runs around bearing a grudge the size of Richmond, and quarrels with everyone.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I’d recommend you lie low for a while.”

“Mr. Turner said he’d talk with Jeb.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She nodded so vehemently that her golden earrings danced. “If the old man…pardon, the lively, vigorous patriarch takes charge, there’s no denial, no back talk, and no delay. Jebediah will follow his order. That means you’re safe.”

“Why does Jacob have such an influence? After all, he’s more than seventy years old, and couldn’t wrestle Jebediah to the ground.”

“No, but it looks like you tried that. Anyway,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He’s the one who leads this family, and he can get really pissed. Pardon my French. He had a disagreement with my husband, and instead of enduring Jacob’s permanent browbeating, Solomon opened a law firm in Richmond. He said it’s for the best to keep a distance. That tells you something about my father-in-law.” She sighed and tried to cover her sadness with her drink. “These days, my husband’s home for about three weeks a year. By the way, this is a Gin-Gin Mule. I learned to love it in New York.” Another, even deeper sigh. “Those were the days. If you want to try one, I can order it for you.”

“I’ll stick with beer.”

“But you aren’t drinking.”

“I’m listening.” Nicolas smiled encouragingly.

Joanne took the invitation like a lost girl in the street that’s cheered by a friendly stranger. “That’s flattering.” Joanne took another sip of her drink.

·         *

Later, Nicolas lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, reflecting on the evening.

Joanne hadn’t made her intention a secret. When he crossed the threshold to her rooms, she had taken off her tailored jacket, lost her shoes on the way to the bar, and dropped her purse and gloves on a small table against the wall. She offered him another beer, and when he didn’t follow her into the apartment, she stood, frowning. Then slowly, understanding that he wasn’t about to spend the night with her crossed her face.

“You aren’t coming, huh?” she asked as she pushed back a strand of hair behind her ear. “Afraid of a married woman? Afraid that my husband will show up and try to throw you out?” On the way back toward the door, she made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry. After spending a day here, he’s already on his way home—back to his normal life in Richmond, back to what he calls his fulfillment in life.” She cocked her head. “I can’t convince you to stay?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Oh, it’s back to ma’am? What a pity. I like Jo much more.” She curled her lips to a smile. “A gentleman through and through, huh? Can’t say that I’m surprised. But I’m still disappointed. I did have expectations for the night.”

“You’re too valuable for a one-night-stand, Jo. You’re a wonderful woman and a good wife. You’re also a good daughter-in-law, faithful to the old man. I’m not—”

Joanne put a finger on his lips. “Don’t say you aren’t worth sleeping with me, Nick, because that’s BS. I made advances at you, not the other way around. I wanted you right here—or a little bit closer and with less clothes—and you knew that when you took the seat at my table.”

He smiled and cast down his eyes. The same moment, she stood on tiptoes to kiss him tenderly. Surprised, and yet flattered, Nick returned the kiss, then stepped back and wished her a good night.

* * *  *

 

Find my books at extasybooks.com and at various online bookstores. Paperbacks are available for many books on Amazon.

Visit my website: annraina.com

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Back to...writing!

 

 

As I've said here before, the summer months are usually slow for writing. I take notes, but I rarely sit down at my computer to work on a novel. Now that the days are shorter and the weather is rainy and windy, I have more time and enjoy sitting at my desk with a cup of coffee and my cat on my lap. I read what I’ve written so far and find my way back to the scenery.

FBI Agent Nicolas Hayes is confronted with a female serial killer who charms her victims, promotes their careers, and demands their devotion. When they fail her, she leaves them dead and looks for another man to manipulate. She has successfully evaded the FBI’s investigation thus far by changing states, locations, looks, and behavior.

It’ll be fun to write about how the FBI team deals with the case, and maybe even solves it in the end (Yes, I wrote stories in which the killer is not found in the end,)

Writing crime novels was never my goal when I started writing. I was more into science fiction and adventure, but when my muse suggested a loving couple and asked me what his profession might be, we agreed that a career agent in the FBI would be a perfect choice.

Here’s an excerpt from one of my previous novels, Famous Murders (book 2 in the series).

 

A killer on the loose, an FBI-agent in love, and a famous actor in danger.

After three murders in the Washington, DC, vicinity, the FBI Agents Hayes and Beckham are assigned to solve the case. Although the murders seem incoherent at first, it becomes clear that there are connections between them. It turns out that the murderer is far from having reached the end of his deadly list.

Aside from the investigation, Agent Hayes has to find a way to get on with his demanding girlfriend and her challenging love games. Can he do both and not lose himself?

Excerpt

“What are these?” Nick asked when she picked up a pair of unique handcuffs.

“Hands front.”

“As you say.” He held up his hands to be bound.

“These are handcuffs designed for hanging. They don’t squeeze your wrists, but spread the pressure on the inner wrists and along your palms.”

“Great. Does all that stuff come with a manual?”

“Step on the stool and reach above you. There’s a protruding beam.”

He looked up. “Don’t say you got that prepared while I was in the shower!”

“It wasn’t that much work, and I found a ladder around here. Or do you think Richard would pull out stacks from down here to have the rest tumble on him?”

“From what you told me, I wouldn’t take him to be a man to bother with carrying firewood.”

“Point taken.” Jacklyn made a face. “Now, reach for the beam and put the chain above it.”

Nicolas stretched to get it done. He tested the beam to carry his weight, and it held.

“Now, step down from the stool.”

“You want me to hang here? Like some piece of meat?” Nicolas breathed deeply when she didn’t budge and slowly stepped off the stool to find his toes hardly touching the sandy ground. “I’ve had more comfortable positions, that’s all.”

“You look ravishing, my lover. All those muscles are showing, and I’m free to kiss every one of them.”

“Not that I wouldn’t allow it at any other position.”

“That’s not the same.” She put the stool aside to brush her lips along his bare chest. “And now, let me show you why this is a perfect position.”

“Yeah, that argument will need some convincing elements. I already feel as if I’ll have arms as long as my legs.”

Jacklyn laughed merrily, and Nick knew he’d done something right. It was one thing to trust your partner. It was another to find true common joy.

“You’re still standing on your feet.”

“Toes. Only on my toes. What’re you doing?”

“Hmm, I’m thinking about heightening your pleasure by blindfolding you. Oh, I see, that’s a no-go. I understand.” She dropped what was in her hand and fetched a bowl with steaming water, two towels, and a razor. “That look on your face is worth the whole drive up here.”

“If you wanted to shave me, we could’ve stayed in the bathroom, right?”

“Not for this.” Apparently, Jacklyn took unearthly delight in lathering his chest and armpits to shave him smooth. “You don’t know how wet I am,” she whispered, smiling seductively. “Imagine me already dripping with expectation. I’m so hot for you I could touch myself now and come. Would you wanna watch?”

The razor elegantly swung toward his midsection before she put it beside the bowl to towel-dry his upper body.

Nick swallowed drily. “You would…you’re gonna…strip? Here?”

She opened his jeans and slowly peeled them down to his knees. Without losing eye contact, she rubbed her chin along the bulge and drew his boxer shorts toward his knees. Gently, still smiling the smile of impending delight, Jacklyn closed her lips around his member. He panted and looking down at her he realized he’d allow her to do anything with him if she caused him such pleasure.

Nick thought all body heat would immediately jump to his testicles. His buttocks clenched, but the way he stood left him no room to push forward and into her mouth. She licked him, stroked him with her teeth and slowly coaxed him up. Then she withdrew.

“Wow, Jacky, that’s some…vicious treatment!”

“Says the man who brings me to climax every time I sleep with him.” Jacklyn stroked along his trembling legs before returning to his cock and balls. “I think this is only fair. You make me a quivering mess, and I’m helpless in your arms.” She kissed his chest tenderly.

“Before long, my arms will be as stretched as Reed Richards’ in the Fantastic Four!”

Chuckling like only a woman could, Jacklyn made sure his arousal grew, no matter the precarious position. Her hands and mouth were on him, gently first, then harder until he stood erect and expecting. Again, she withdrew.

“Oh, come on, Jacky! Don’t…what the hell are you doing?”

Jacklyn lathered his pubic hair, then swung the razor around his quivering cock, changing his appearance profoundly.

“But—”

“Nick, only old men and those who never want to have sex have a jungle down here. All other men on this planet prefer this area neat and…” She cocked her head for a smile and impish expression. “Much easier to access for the rest of the toys I brought.”

Nick rolled his eyes heavenward, knowing she would get her way if he didn’t strongly object. Obviously, he’d missed that moment and now suffered from not speaking his mind in time. However, the feeling was strangely pleasurable, and Jacklyn was the most careful barber he could imagine. From the few insinuations she’d made during their conversations, he expected her to have experience.

When he looked down after Jacklyn was done, he felt alienated from his body. Since the days of adolescence, there had been pubic hair around his genitals. As if she understood his feeling of loss, Jacklyn caressed the soft, vulnerable skin with her lips and tongue and made him forget his regret in ten seconds. He was still hard, and the more she caressed him, the more he wanted off the hook and to carry her back to the bedroom, living room, or any other room in the cabin, just to sink his member into her.

Jacklyn opened her short morning gown, and he looked at her perfect nakedness.

“Like the look?”

He couldn’t help returning her playful smile. “I like everything about you, ma chérie, and you damn well know it. So…will you let me off the hook now?”

“No dice.” She placed the small stool in front of him, stepped on it, and touched his body with hers. “Like that feeling?”

Nick had always been a bad liar and denying his arousal when her hard nipples pressed against his chest was impossible. She caught his penis between their bodies and moved up and down slowly, one hand around his scrotum.

“Tell me, do you have plans for today?”

Nick’s laugh came out a strangled whisper because his mind couldn’t handle the sexual temptation and exchange of words at the same time. He was beyond desire and wanted release badly, but Jacklyn made sure he had no leeway to rub his body against hers and reach what she denied.

“Tell me. Is there anything on your list? Reading a book, maybe, or running a mile?” The question was accompanied by another, not so gentle, tug on his balls.

“Oh, ouch! Other than wanting to fuck you blind? No.” His panting grew louder. “Jacky, this is…torment.”

“Yeah, but a cockish way of torment, right? So fitting, this barn. I’m getting down on you dark and dirty until you can’t think of anything than being horny.”

“Got that accomplished, J, no question.”

“Don’t think you’re the only one aroused, G-man. You’re heating me up.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “All I want is to rub you so long until you scream out my name when you come.”

“That’s not that far away,” he said between clenched teeth, causing her to giggle.

“Ah, you can live like that for some time, believe me.”

“Don’t say you’ll let me—” He stopped to listen. “There’s someone out there!”

He had hardly spoken when a portly man rounded the corner to stop with his thumbs in his uniform pockets, looking concerned. He had a feisty face with a mustache and small eyes drawn to slits under his wide-brimmed hat.

* * *

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have a look at my website annraina.com

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Real-World Distractions

  

 

Some say authors can escape into their own fantasy worlds and leave the real world and its problems behind when they start typing. Every author can open the door to their imagination and forget about what’s going on around them.

Partly true. When I sit down at my keyboard and silence surrounds me, I relax and write. The moment I slip into the role of storyteller and guide my characters—the good ones and the bad ones—on their adventures, I leave my reality behind.

Partly not true. Recent political developments, rising tensions between states, and wars or imminent threats that country leaders utter on TV or social media do concern me. I’m not living under a rock; I think about what could happen within the next month or year. There are real conflicts around the globe that could affect my country, my family, and my friends. The world is not a safe place where I can live carefree. I think about the daily news and what I would do if conflicts got closer to my country's border.

Political developments have consequences. Some days, I can push away the bitter thoughts of war; on others, the news frightens me so much that I can’t write a single line. My recent work in progress has remained in that state for about a year. Usually, I’m a fast writer. I know my characters and the storyline, and I can adjust scenes as I go. This year, however, it hasn’t been so easy. Although the storyline is clear, I don’t make real progress because I’m not truly writing. I write scenes and take notes, but that’s not the real writing I want to get done.

I want to escape reality, yet with every news cycle, events keep getting worse. Maybe I’ll finish the new book next year. Maybe I will make peace with a situation I can’t change and hope for the best.

To end on a lighter note, here’s a scene from A Bodyguard’s Vacation, the third book in the series that I really loved writing.

A loving couple, a boat trip gone wonky, pirates on the loose.

 

Excerpt

The airport concourse at Nassau, Bahamas, was filled with hundreds of joyous people on their way to a warm and sunny vacation, waiting for their baggage. Even though they were there for leisure time, Jazmin felt the slight tension running through Ethan’s body like an electric undercurrent as he scrutinized the throng. His profession as a bodyguard demanded constant alertness while working and was hard to switch off. She had an arm around his waist, feeling wonderful and at ease, and hoped she could persuade Ethan to loosen up a bit. Ten days of sun and fun lay ahead of them. Ryan, his colleague and best friend, took his backpack off the belt to place it beside Ethan’s larger suitcase on the cart.

“That’s all?” Jazmin asked, amused.

“Hey, what do I need besides board shorts and some underwear?” Ryan made a face and ran a hand through his short-cropped blond hair. He held up a finger. “Okay, I brought one dress shirt—a really good one—and pants. But that’s about it. I’m here to dive and swim and sunbathe. And, well, you know, get my lady between the sheets.”

He wiggled his brows and Ethan inhaled noisily. “Thanks for not over-sharing.” He looked out for the second suitcase while Ryan grimaced.

“Thanks for understanding that my fun might be different from yours.” Ryan pulled out a Zippo and started playing with it. The distinct sound of opening and closing the brass lighter attracted the attention of a young boy until his mother gathered her luggage and pulled him away. “Tell me, Ethan, you got one, too, don’t you?”

“Yep.” Ethan stretched his six feet three inch frame to scrutinize the entire luggage belt, but still couldn’t make out Jazmin’s suitcase.

“You both don’t smoke.” Jazmin looked from Ryan to Ethan, who pulled his Zippo out. It was a matte-finished black one with the small sign of the US Army. “So why carry a lighter?”

Ryan took it for comparison to his shiny silvery one and gave her the look. “You never know when a breathtaking woman comes along and wants you to give her… fire.”

Jazmin rolled her eyes, giggling. “Oh, I see where this is going. But honestly, is this still a subject these days? I mean, women no longer depend on men offering fire.”

“Ah, depends on the fire, my beautiful lady.” Ryan gave a gamy grin.

Jazmin boxed his upper arm and he pretended to be hurt.

“All soldiers get one when they begin their training,” Ethan said without turning. He shrugged. “And you just carry it with you—like your keys, penknife, pants.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, waving a finger at his friend. “Better not lose your pants, pal.”

“You’re making this up.” Jazmin laughed.

“No. Zippo produced these lighters especially for the army. They catch fire everywhere because they don’t work with gas. They’ve got a wick that is constantly powered with fuel, so it keeps the flame steady even if it’s windy, wet or whatever.” Ethan showed the construction to Jazmin, then put it back in his pocket.
Ryan upturned his eyes. “I just wanted you to show me yours—which is a great one, by the way—and not get a history lesson.”

“The lesson was for Jazmin,” Ethan replied evenly. “Not for you. I know you wouldn’t listen.”

Ryan opened his arms wide. “I love you, too, pal!” He laughed when the people around him looked irritated or grinned. “You don’t have to make it so difficult for me!”

Ethan’s smile got wider. “You don’t have to tell everyone around that the kid has arrived.”

“I’m like that.” Ryan nudged Ethan’s side. “Come on, you knew what to expect when you accepted Cheryl and me on this trip.”

“I had hopes that—maybe just for her—you’d behave like an adult.”

“Been there, done that. Didn’t like it. Boring. And don’t—” he nudged him harder—”behave like Walter. I’m on vacation. I don’t need another boss.”

“Well, I see what you do when you got none around.”

“Right, that opens up a lot of possibilities.” He looked as if he was actually pondering something serious. “Can’t wait for Cheryl to arrive.”

“Does she take Walter’s place?” Ethan chuckled. “As far as I remember she at least looks better.”

“She’s not my boss, you crank.” He playfully boxed Ethan’s chest. “She loves me. We’ve been together for a year already. If she had trouble—”

“Being a boss?” Laughing, Ethan evaded Ryan’s attempt to punch him and brought up his arms in defense. “Yeah, next time you should take a vacation with Walter.”

“You’d want to see that, hmm?” Ryan cocked his head. “I remember he spent three weeks with me… on a boat. We were pretty close.”

“I remember him taking a vacation soon afterward.” Jazmin lowered her chin while she arched her brows. “Alone.”

“But seriously,” Ryan went on, making a face in Jazmin’s direction, “if Cheryl wanted Mr. Super-serious, she’d have taken one of those manager-boss guys she works for.”

Jazmin looked at the emptying luggage belt. “My suitcase isn’t here. Damn it.”

 * * *

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