New Adult Multiple Genre Novella Collection
Stories by Laurelin Paige, Sierra Simone, Melanie Harlow, Tamara Mataya, Katherine McGee, Gennifer Albin
Available December 23, 2013
Six romance authors present six very different novellas in this anthology of new stories: Ménage a tango lessons. A bride DYING to say, ‘I don’t.’ A horny college boy at a purity rally. Time-traveling graduate students meet Victorian playboys. A rugby player who’s as dirty off the field as on. And kissing under the mistletoe with a Scottish exchange student. Something for everyone, the NAturals present sweet, funny, and erotic tales of new adults meant to be Unwrapped all year long and not just at Christmas.
TEASERS FROM CHERRY POPPER
By Laurelin Paige
Chase Matthews was in goddammed heaven.
When he’d agreed to tag along with his buddy Jared to the dinky little bar forty-five minutes outside of their college town, he’d thought they’d have a good time—shoot some pool, flirt with some chicks, use their fake IDs to get a couple beers.
He hadn’t expected to be crashed against the wall of the back storage room with the legs of the sweetest little blonde in the place wrapped around his waist.
The instant he’d locked eyes with her, he felt the mutual attraction. It had only taken thirty minutes of flirting before she’d made it over to their table. She was alone, which was the universal signal for I’m looking for someone to mack with. At least it had been where Chase grew up. He wasn’t taking it as a given. Colorado wasn’t anything like California where he’d come from.
For half a second, Chase worried Jared would try to pick her up instead. But then God intervened—or some divine power that Chase had yet to identify—and another smokin’ chick took Jared away to some dark corner.
And now here was Chase with Kira Larson’s legs wrapped around his waist and her lips locked on his.
Man, she tasted good. There was a faint taste of Amaretto Sour, but mostly she tasted of the cherry flavor lip gloss she’d applied and reapplied throughout the evening. Even without the gloss, he suspected she’d taste good. How could she not? He hadn’t been with enough women to not appreciate anyone who wanted to bruise mouths with him.
The things she did with her tongue… Every time she flicked it across the tip of his, his dick throbbed as he imagined it flicking across his crown. And the sexy little sounds she made in the back of her throat made his jeans even tighter. God, she was an angel.
He pressed her against the wall, relieving some of the weight from his arms so his hand could explore other parts of her body. The new position angled their groins more perfectly. It was both amazing and amazingly uncomfortable all at once.
Trying to ignore the ache in his pants, Chase distracted himself by concentrating on Kira’s breasts. He didn’t want to go too far and piss her off, but if he could just hold one of the perfect little mounds in his palm, he knew it would be worth it. He swept his hand down the side of her torso, then up again, this time a little closer to the object of his desire. Finally, on the third pass, he couldn’t take it anymore. His hand circled around her perky tit and squeezed.
Instead of the protest he’d half-expected, she moaned. Moaned and he was nearly exploding. That was all the invitation he needed. Within seconds his hand had made its way under her t-shirt and slipped under the cup of her bra. Had he thought he’d made it to heaven before? Well, he was wrong. Because this was definitely heaven. Soaring on the wind, floating on air heaven.
Then she said the magic words—the words every guy wants to hear when his dick is painfully hard and his hand is wrapped around her tit—“I have a condom.”
Sweet Jesus, he was going to get laid.
Excerpts from Try For Love:
An hour passed in their unexpectedly endless banter. He wasn’t Scottish, he was South African. She told him about her hometown, why she’d moved to the city to maximize her opportunities. A hairstylist in a small town is relegated to prom do’s and shampoo sets on the elderly, the occasional Mom-bob. That was not where Mischa intended to end up. Her painting hobby also felt stifled in a place where “art” was a Footprints poster. Plus, there was the fun of having her niece Carolina so close.
As for the mysterious stranger, he played rugby. It was, he said, his lifeblood, which was also evidently green in honor of his beloved Springboks team. He’d come to America to save money with which to join some sort of elite rugby club. As he described the game his voice grew more animated and his accent thickened. She watched, delighted, as he jumped up and demonstrated several key moves. His biceps rippled under the snug thermal he wore. Never a sports fan, Mischa suddenly realized the error of her ways when he bent down in a mock scrum. The half-squat showed off his deliciously shaped ass, even through the blue jeans.
“I don’t understand why you call a touchdown a try. You’ve succeeded, it isn’t trying!” she laughed.
“Don’t question the great game,” he mock tackled her. Her whole body tingled at his touch.
Too soon, it was time for him to go back to the tiny trailers the carnival provided its workers. She hopped off the car to say a reluctant goodbye. He moved in close, closer, as her back pressed into the handle of the car door and her heart began to race with his proximity and the suddenly overwhelming spicy scent he carried. He hovered above her, gazing into her green eyes with his chocolate ones for too long. Her legs could hardly hold her as his long body finally, finally folded down to the anticipated kiss. His lips were full and soft, but pressed hard against hers. They parted together, and her tongue found his. She kissed him boldly, exploring his mouth with the length of her tongue. He groaned, soft into her mouth, as his hands moved up her arms to entwine in her bleached layered hair.
EXCERPTS FROM THREE TO TANGO
By Melanie Harlow
Secretly I’m a smut fiend, but only when it comes to books. Until last night, the only outwardly kinky thing about me was my hair on a rainy day. I’m a kindergarten teacher, for heaven’s sake. I wear fuzzy slippers and granny panties. Ballet flats and sweater sets. I didn’t even have sex until I was twenty-one, and then it was a lights-out, missionary-position, TV-blaring-to-cover-the-squeaky-dorm-room-bed kind of experience. (I still remember the rerun of How I Met Your Mother that was on, and let’s just say that Marshall’s description of the perfect burger was way more orgasmic than losing my virginity.)
Eventually I learned how to get myself off (in the total privacy of my shower, of course) and figured out what all the throbbing and moaning in my books was about, and I did manage to have two lovely little orgasms with Guy #2 last summer, but it took a lot of work. And time. So much time that I kept apologizing to the guy, and I couldn’t relax. I mean, he stuck with it and all, but compared to the fast-building, toe-curling, earth-shattering, mind-blowing romps on my Kindle, my sex life was totally vanilla.
And then I took a tango lesson.
About the Authors
Laurelin Paige, Gennifer Albin, Melanie Harlow, Sierra Simone, Kayti McGee Downey, and Tamara Mataya are the six authors who blog for TheNaturalAuthors.blogspot.com. They each write romance and adore pushing the boundaries of the genre. Above all, they love reading smut, looking at pictures of hot men, and making up names for the band they’re always talking about forming.