Sweet n Sexy Divas: Dee S. Knight

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Excerpt:
“Where is the damn doctor?” His truculent tone was understandable but wearying just the same, after an hour of waiting for test results.

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Friday, September 11, 2026

Heading into “wish for” season

When I was growing up, we never bought anything that could be considered a gift unless we were hiding it away for Christmas. If you saw a scarf in a store window, you might hint at it to friends or family but you didn’t buy it lest Santa have it in mind for you. Necessities had to be purchased, of course, but nothing frivolous or extraneous. If your friends or family didn’t take the hint, well, you hoped the item you lusted after was on sale in January. So, starting in September, we began the season of wishing. It seems fitting then that Your Desire is the featured book for this month.

Wishing you all the joy of the upcoming holidays—the months will fly by!—and that you receive your desire!

Blurb:
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold and the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?

Buy links:
Amazon KU: https://www.amazon.com/Your-Desire-Dee-S-Knight-ebook/dp/B085HFRSQ9

Amazon print: https://www.amazon.com/Your-Desire-Dee-S-Knight/dp/1734761016

A fair portion of that time he’d spent talking via cell phone to someone named David. That’s all she’d heard of the conversations, except Frank’s tone, which was commanding. He was definitely a man used to giving orders.

Evidently David could also give a few. When she’d checked at the desk to ask what else needed to be done in the way of paperwork for admission, the clerk had told her everything was being handled. Not only had the tedious forms been taken care of and insurance approved, the X-ray and MRI results were being sent to Frank’s doctor’s computer in Washington so he could consult on treatment.

“The doctor will be here as soon as he knows something.” She gave him her best grim nurse’s look before remembering he couldn’t see her expression. Instead she patted his hand as though he were a child. “Stop being a baby. Everything that can be done is being done.”

Three different doctors had examined him in the time they’d been at the hospital, coming in, saying as little as possible, then leaving with a “Hmm.” She knew it was the lack of information that grated on Frank’s nerves more than anything else.

While the doctors checked him over, she’d examined him herself, with as little notice as possible. He was as handsome as any man she’d ever seen, but in a rugged way, contrary to the citified, expensive clothes he wore. There was a bump at the top of his nose indicating at least one break. Long luxurious lashes swept down and up each time he blinked, hiding then revealing beautiful hazel eyes. He was tall and very fit, muscled without an ounce of fat. Brown hair, nicely trimmed, sparkled with good health and care. In the bright glare of ER lights, his face didn’t look nearly so sharply angled as she’d thought earlier, but the stubble from a day’s growth of beard made him look dark and rough.

“Tell you what. Why don’t I go and get you some ice? You shouldn’t have anything to eat, but a little ice will be all right.”

“Ice?” He said it as though he couldn’t believe anyone in their right mind would suggest such a thing, but in the end he agreed.

Ten minutes later, she approached his cubicle with a cup filled with shaved ice. Weariness dragged at her with every step, and she could hardly wait until Frank was admitted so she could go home.

“Here comes Allison now. We’ll ask her.” His voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the ER. She slipped through the opening to see Frank sitting on the edge of the bed. Walter Neeley, the ophthalmologist, stood in front of him. Mike stood apart, his arms crossed over the metal cover of the hospital chart held tightly against his chest. His face was serious but a look of mischievous glee colored his eyes as he observed the verbal sparring between the two men. Beside him stood Richard Matthews, head of neurology, who nodded a greeting to her.

“Ask Allison what?” She knew she’d have to referee something, based on the bull-headed expressions of both doctor and patient. Frank and Walt had already turned toward the opening in the curtains when she slipped in. This damn noisy dress.

“I want to hold Mr. Hughes overnight. He refuses. Says he’ll be all right at your house.” Walt Neeley arched a brow at her. “As he’s your friend, perhaps you can convince him that it’s in his own best interests to be admitted for the night.”

Unconsciously, she moved to stand beside Frank, touching his hand to let him know she was there. His head followed her every movement. “Actually he’s not my fr—”

“Tell him there’s no need for me to remain here overnight, Allison. If he’d give me something for this damn headache, I’d be fine. Well, if I could see, that is.” He practically growled out the last.

“They can’t give you anything that will make you sleep.”

“But it hurts like hell.”

“I know, but buck up,” she stage-whispered.

He snorted and turned away.

“Actually, Frank,” she stated in her most persuasive tone, “it is in your best interest to stay here. If anything should happen, the staff and equipment you need will be here.”

“No.”

Damn it! She couldn’t take him home. Besides the obvious medical risks, there was the unsettled feeling she experienced around him. It was unreasonable, but there, nonetheless. Why wouldn’t the obstinate man allow them to admit him so she could go home alone to her safe and ordered life.

“Mr. Hughes.”

Frank turned his head, his recalcitrant expression carved in stone.

“You don’t seem to realize the seriousness of your condition. You have a contusion, and as Nurse Hayes suggested, that’s bad enough. But if the swelling of your brain worsens during the night, you’ll need care she can’t give you at home.”

Frank seemed to consider this. “Dr. Matthews, is it?” He asked but continued without waiting for confirmation. “I think I do understand the seriousness of my condition. If you and the staff here haven’t explained it thoroughly enough, my own doctor, after examining the test results you sent, has told me plainly that I’m a jackass if I leave here tonight. However, he’s well aware of my nature and knows I’m a man used to taking judicious risks. I trust Ms. Hayes. She’s a well-trained nurse, is she not?”

“This has nothing to do with Allison’s capabilities,” spit out Walt Neeley. “This has to do with your welfare and the liability of the hospital if you leave and something happens.”

She sighed, knowing the men could butt heads all night without resolution. “What about the blindness?”

Walt spoke. “As far as we can tell, the problem is trauma-induced and will resolve itself when the swelling goes down. Tonight he’ll have to be checked every two hours.”

“Allison will do that.” Frank didn’t give the slightest intimation that she might say no.

She looked at him, really looked at him. He acted the tyrant, totally commanding, used to having every whim fulfilled and order followed without question. But there was an odd hesitance under it all. She’d noticed the characteristic earlier, too, when they were making their way out of the pasture. Discomfort, almost fear.

His hands fisted on his legs, his brows puckered ever so slightly in worry. Other than those tells, no one would know he wasn’t the controlling force he pretended to be. Maybe only she saw he had the false bravado of a man used to being in charge, suddenly finding himself at the mercy of fate. If so, she might not understand his attitude but she wouldn’t betray him.

She tried one more approach. “What if I stayed with you? I’d be here each time the nurse woke you up.”

He shook his head. “If you won’t take me home I’ll call my assistant. He’ll come down immediately and we’ll drive back to DC tonight.”

Walt Neeley threw his hands up and snorted in disbelief. Frank’s lips turned up in a tiny smile, probably secure in the knowledge that he’d presented an alternative worse than going home with her.

Mike gave a one-shouldered shrug when she glanced at him. “I strongly advise he be admitted.” Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Mike cut him off. “If he insists on going, we can’t stop him. You’re one of the people I’d entrust him to. If you want him, of course.”

All four men waited to hear her judgment. “I suppose he could sleep on the sofa in the office. I wouldn’t want him climbing the stairs.” She spoke out loud, but more to herself, reasoning what to do. “I can get him back here very quickly if need be.”

“Good.” Frank spoke as though her decision had been a foregone conclusion all along. His hands relaxed on his thighs.

Reviews:

“I loved this book, each story was beautiful, romantic, and filled with very hot sex.” 5 stars

“If you’re looking for a spicy escape from your everyday life, pick up Your Desire today. It’ll heat your body and singe your soul. Highly recommend!” 4.5 stars

Author links:

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Excerpt:
With a slight shudder, [Susan] accepted her new cover and stepped through the doorway—almost landing flat on her face when she missed the step down.

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Tuesday, August 11, 2026

A little space talk

With the 57^th anniversary of the moon landing in July and the Artemis activity going on with our sites eventually on Mars, I’m reminded of Bride of the Pryde. Agent Susan McAllister starts off like Robert Redford in Three Days of the Condor, as she comes into her office and finds everyone murdered. Then she discovers that she’s the person the murderers are there for. She runs—right onto a ship ready to launch into space with three captains (one of which is a carryover character from Triple S Bride and one of which is an alien with interesting (ahem) equipment) and a robot who isn’t quiet with his resentment of her interference. Mix in a little drug that releases all inhibitions, capture by a real space villain, and a little betrayal from the least suspected corner, and you have Bride of the Pryde.

I’m so proud that NASA is once again taking an active role in putting people in space. It’s the future come to life in the present. But that’s reality. For us, let’s enjoy a few space fantasies!

Blurb:
DAT agent Susan McAllister escapes Earth with killers in hot pursuit. She normally runs toward danger not away, and she likes controlling her own fate, not relying on three strange men and an irreverent cyberbot. Skilled and experienced, she doesn’t believe there's any way the three crewmen of the cargo ship Erik's Pryde can help her.

Captain John Erik thinks the sexy, headstrong passenger is nothing but trouble, but he also knows she needs help. And not being men to shrink from adventure, he's convinced that he and his crew are the ones to provide it. When they're infected by an illegal drug that releases inhibitions, the crew of the Pryde shows they are men who not only can fight, but can satisfy a woman’s every fantasy.

It's no surprise when Susan discovers that being a member of the Pryde's crew has unexpected, lasting benefits.

Buy links:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Bride-Pryde-Siren-Publishing-Menage-ebook/dp/B007NIR4HO/

Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bride-of-the-pryde-dee-s-knight/1109689352

* * * *

Only Charlie’s quick reflexes saved her from falling flat on her face. And what a pretty face it is, too.

In fact, all of her was pretty—more than pretty. She was hot, which might be enough to mitigate the captain’s anger at the delay. Still, in the shipping business, time is money, and this beauty’s case of premarital nerves had already cost a bundle.

Holding her case in one hand and her elbow with the other, he ushered her down a short, covered walkway to another flight of steps. “I told you to watch your step,” he chided, “but you were busy watching that guy who was coming down the concourse. Is he the reason you were nervous about leaving?”

“Um…yeah. He–he thinks he has a claim on me.”

“But he doesn’t?” Charlie might as well get all the dirt right now. The captain was pissed enough without finding out later that trouble followed their passenger.

“He absolutely doesn’t,” she said. She sounded pretty damn sure.

They exited the shuttleway at the bottom of the stairs and walked to a small hover craft. She squirmed a little, as though uncomfortable.

“I maybe should mention, I have a weapon with me. Did I need to do something with it?”

A nervous woman and a gun. Bad combination. Damn. This’ll be one interesting flight. “The captain will want to secure it during the flight.”

She seemed to consider that fact. “All right,” she said after a hesitation.

Charlie stowed her bags and helped her aboard the craft. “I’m Charlie Sheridan, by the way.”

She didn’t acknowledge the introduction. “I’m the last passenger to board, right? I mean, once the doors close that’s it, we’re ready to go?”

That was an interesting question. Whether because of nerves or whatever, Danessa Vanessa was acting strangely.

He got them underway before saying, “Danessa, you’re the only passenger.”

“What?”

Charlie took a moment to study her. Her face was small and delicate, highlighted by large, liquid-brown eyes. Under a blonde wig, which had pulled up in back when she stumbled, she’d stuffed shiny, dark-brown hair. Her luscious mouth had full, soft-looking lips that begged to be kissed.

He would fantasize about that—and probably more, considering those tits, practically spilling out of that tight top, narrow waist, and legs that kept going and going. One kiss would set him on fire. He wouldn’t want to stop at a fantasy. And with flaring hips just made to hold onto when she rode his cock, who’d blame him?

She’s on her way to get married, you slug.

He concentrated on business, forcing his thoughts along other paths. “Intergalactic Brides did tell you that our ship is a freighter, right? It’s just you and our crew.”

“Criminy,” she whispered.

“I assure you, we’ll respect your privacy,” he said quickly. He pressed a button on his COMM unit.

“Erik here.” The captain said only two words, but any member of his crew recognized the tightly controlled tension in his voice. The half-hour delay had been hell for a man to whom punctuality was sacred.

“We’re on our way out now,” Charlie said.

“About damn time,” Erik replied.

“Captain, she’s carrying a weapon, a pistol I believe. I haven’t seen it.”

“When you come aboard stow it in the weapons locker. Stow the rest of her bags in her cabin and show her to the bridge.”

“Right. Out,” Charlie said.

“Who was that?”

“The captain, John Erik. He prefers to be called Erik,” Charlie said playfully, echoing her words.

“People shouldn’t be allowed to have interchangeable names.”

“As opposed to rhyming names, huh?” He added a smile to show he was teasing. The woman still had her weapon, after all.

“He sounded a bit testy.”

Charlie didn’t answer. He’d worked with John Erik for the past eight years, ever since gaining his pilot’s pin, and the man never stopped at testy. He was either a hundred percent with you or a hundred twenty percent pissed.

Reviews

“ABSOLUTELY WELL ROUNDED STORYLINE AND SUSPENSE WRAPPED TOGETHER. AN ENGAGING AND ENJOYABLE READING PLEASURE.” 5 stars

“This a great sci-fi romance. The mystery and love are numerous and wonderful. I highly recommend this book. Great author.” 5 stars

“This is a good action/adventure/romance story and I would recommend it to anyone who likes this type of story.” 5 stars

Author links:

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Blurb:
Sister Margaret Mary comes home after her mother's death, never expecting to find a hidden past. Nor does she suspect that once outside convent walls, ingrained habits would drop like petals from a flower. Anyone who's known a girl away from home for the first time, out from under the strict gaze of her parents, understands her need to fly, to experience all life has to offer. But new desires—especially for her attorney, Jordan Parnell, and his friend, Mark Collins—are alien to the nun. She prays for a week of freedom, a week of feeling like a real woman.

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Saturday, July 11, 2026

Happy 250, America!

You might think that is a strange title for a blog post about a book that has nothing to do with the Fourth or America specifically. However, a book called Seducing Their Nun or a reasonable facsimile of it, could not have been written just anywhere. Here, where freedom still has a place, where the great experiment has striven to provide an atmosphere of living the lives we all want—regardless of race, gender or creed—is the only kind of place where a woman could create a work featuring an entity of the Catholic church having doubts and taking action. This is not an anti-Catholic book but nonetheless, the freedoms we still enjoy in our nation would have allowed me to write even that. We aren’t perfect but we’re about as perfect as we’re going to find on this earth.

Happy Birthday, America! And long may you continue.

Seducing Their Nun, Book 1 of the Unlikely Bedfellows series

Jordan is captivated by Catherine Jacobsen's allure before he knows it. Then what? He may call her Catherine instead of Sister, but she's still a nun. Just when he believes that he and his best friend Mark can convince Catherine to forsake the convent, a terrible secret puts their future in doubt.

Buy links:
Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Seducing-Unlikely-Bedfellows-Publishing-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B0099QF8OY/

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seducing-their-nun-unlikely-bedfellows-1-jenna-stewart/1113075359

Excerpt:
Quickly taking her place in the pew, she barely had time to say a decade of the rosary before Father Samuels began Mass. The hour flew by before she knew it, and then she was at the door.

“Sister Margaret Mary, your habit looks as though you slept in it.”

She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Father. I will launder it today and take an iron to it.” She glanced into the parking lot. There was no Brendan Tipton, but no Jordan, either. Disappointment made her heart stutter. Well, she would rather walk than ride with Tipton again, but she would rather spend a few extra minutes with Jordan than walk.

“Tipton get you home all right yesterday?”

“Yes, Father.”

“I don’t like that he is showing an interest in you. You must make him stop.”

She must make him stop? She wanted to ask how Father Samuels proposed she do that, but she stopped herself in time from saying it. Then she’d have to confess disrespect to a priest. Her transgressions were building by the hour. “Yes, Father, although I’m not sure how.”

“The same way Eve should have dispersed the devil in the Garden. Tell him with firmness to leave you alone. The woman must always set the ground rules, Sister.”

What did he mean by that? Did he think she had any experience dealing with men? “Yes, Father.”

“There’s Jordan Parnell. I wonder why he’s here.”

A leap of joy replaced the earlier disappointment, and she jerked her head up to see for herself. Just as Father said, Jordan was striding toward them, his eyes on her. He smiled when he saw she noticed him, and there was no way she could keep from smiling back.

“Hello, Father Samuels,” Jordan said, holding out his hand.

“It’s good to see you, my boy,” the priest responded. “I’m sorry about your father. He’s sorely missed.”

Father Samuels had said nothing about her mother being missed or even acknowledging her death. For the first time, Margaret Mary had some inkling of what life must have been like for her mother, a disgraced woman kept by the town’s richest citizen, if his cars and actions said anything about Tipton.

“Thank you, sir.”

“What are your plans now that you’re home?”

Jordan cast a sideways glance at Margaret Mary and said, “Right now, my plans are to take Sister Margaret Mary home. I’m helping her with the inventory of her mother’s house.”

“That’s right. Tipton said so yesterday. I’m happy you came to get her rather than that—” He looked as though he wanted to say more. “Considering his relationship with her mother, it’s unseemly for him to show so much interest in her, too.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about that here or now, Father.”

Margaret Mary’s surprise at Jordan’s sharp tone focused her attention on him. The set of his jaw and the blaze of fire in his blue eyes were all for the priest. In her experience, no one spoke to a priest like that, but Jordan appeared unfazed. He seemed fearless.

“Shall we go, Sister?” He held out his hand, and without thinking, she took it. If Father Samuels thought anything of it, he didn’t make a sound.

Jordan led her to the car and opened the door on the passenger side. Minutes later, they were on the road, windows down and wind blowing wildly on her face.

“Do you listen to the radio at the convent?” Jordan asked over the sound of the wind.

“We used to listen to Bishop Sheen. Now Mother Superior hears the news and tells us at dinner each night if anything worth knowing happened during the day.”

“Would you like to listen to some music?”

“If you would.”

He turned a dial, and suddenly a man’s voice filled the auto with a cheerful song. “Dean Martin,” Jordan said. At the proper point in the song, right along with the singer, he belted out, “That’s amore!” Then he held out his finger as though keeping time and queued her to join in with the words at the next verse. By the time they pulled into the yard, she was laughing more than singing.

Jordan stopped the car and brought silence when he turned off the ignition. “I love the sound of your laughter. I was beginning to fear that nuns never smiled.”

“Oh.” As quickly as her laughter started, it faded away. “We spend a lot of time in prayer, and that’s very serious.”

“Isn’t there time for fun?”

She had to think. When had she last done anything she termed fun? “Teaching is sometimes fun. The girls say outlandish things that make the teachers smile. But I don’t teach. I help keep up the priests’ clothing and the altar cloths. I am part of the contemplative order.”

He stared at her in such a way that she felt uncomfortable. “Don’t pity me. I love prayer.” Then why have you missed doing it so much in the last couple of days? She couldn’t help but think she was trying to fool God, because at that moment, given the chance to sit and talk with Jordan or be on her knees in prayer, she would rather be with him.

“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you. I was thinking how sad it is that such a beautiful, intelligent woman should have missed so much of life.”

Author links:

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight