Rock 'n' Roll Step Dads: School of Sex (Rock 'N' Roll Step Dads Series Part 1) (3 page)

Waking Up Werewolf

Waking Up Werewolf Part 2: Vicious Vampire Love

Waking Up Werewolf Part 3: Troll Takedown

Waking Up Werewolf Part 4: Passion Inside Purity

Waking Up Werewolf: The Complete Series

Surrender To Her Master

Surrender To His Charms

Surrender Forever: The Complete Surrender Series

Cherry On Top

Cherry On Top Part 2: Cherry’s Sex Education

Cherry On Top Part 3: Spanking Cherry

Cherry On Top Part 4: Cherry’s First Gang Bang

Cherry’s Sex Exploration: The Complete Cherry On Top Series

Jack The Lad

Jack The Lad Part 2: Jack & James

Jack The Lad Part 3: In Jack’s Bed

Jack The Lad Part 4: Jack’s Betrayal

Jack The Lad Part 5: Jack’s Bachelor Party

The Story Of Jack & James: The Complete Jack The Lad Series

***

Read an excerpt from a sizzling Wild & Lawless release,
Rock ‘N’ Roll Step Brothers
by Anita Lawless.

Rock ‘N’ Roll Step Brothers Part 1: The Twins

By Anita Lawless

Mickie Malloy sat at her desk and frowned at a memo from her boss.
Back off the cocaine trafficking story for now
, it said. She hated when her boss, the much older and much more seasoned editor in chief of the Saint John Gazette, acted so bipolar without explanation.

She was a new reporter there, but in her six months with the Gazette she’d rose up as his star, giving him a cutting edge expose that broke one of the biggest recent scandals in their small city. She’d exposed a money laundering scam run by a prominent local banker. Turned out the banker’s hands were dirty with illegal weapon bootlegging, and he’d been running the profits through fake accounts he set up in his own bank. Mickie had gone undercover as a loans officer to break that one wide, and she’d done it in record time.

All this and she was only twenty-two and just starting her career. It was the one aspect of her life she could say she was truly proud of. She’d worked her ass off to get here.

Brushing her sideswept bangs from her eyes, she chewed on a thumbnail to vent her irritation. Having her story put on hiatus—the possibility of a crooked cop ring trafficking cocaine—left her fuming in her cubicle.

Her cell phone let out a shrill chirp, pulling her from these irritated ruminations. The number on the call display made her smile. It was her step dad, Roman Fayette. He was a well respected drummer in the legendary Canadian progressive metal band Rift. The band as a whole were well respected in the progressive metal scene for being pioneers of some very innovative music.

Her step father was the quiet one in the band, though the three other members of Rift tended to be laid back as well. Roman was a brilliant introvert who wrote many of the band’s songs and preferred to spend a good deal of his time alone.

“Hi Dad,” she answered on the second ring. Even though her mom and Roman had divorced years ago, she still thought of him as her true father, having never known her biological one. “You must’ve known I needed someone to cheer me up.”

“Hey sweetheart,” his calm, soft voice instantly relaxed her. “What’s bothering you?”

“Ah, my boss is putting the brakes on a great story.” She sighed. “You got time for lunch? I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to come by the house for lunch.” He chuckled. “You read my mind. I have a favor to ask. How about I make us a couple tofu salads and you meet me here in half an hour?”

She would’ve preferred potato salad loaded with mayo, but Dad was a health food nut and she knew he’d disapprove if she suggested her alternative. He worried about what he called her ‘bachelor eating habits,’ so she cheerily agreed to his offer.

She gave her makeup a last minute fix via the mirror in her powder / foundation case. She frowned at her too big nose and applied a pale pink gloss to her pouty lips. There was no fixing her round face and naturally too bright cheeks, she decided. At least her dimples and big doe eyes made her cute, and why was she worrying about this exactly? It was just lunch with dad at his place. But that did mean the prospect of seeing her step brothers, which usually made her feel like the awkward, bookish girl she’d been in high school.

***

The tofu looked more appetizing than Mickie expected. At least it wasn’t white and jiggly, like the dish one old boyfriend had tried to convince her to eat. Warm golden brown slices sat atop a bed of crisp lettuce, juicy red tomatoes, and cucumbers. When she bit into it, she found it tasted like a cross between chicken and fish.

“This is really good, Dad, ” she said, waving her fork appreciatively over the dish. “So what did you need to ask me?”

“I was wondering if you’d house sit for me this summer?” He crossed his arms in front of him, gave her somewhat of a pleading look with his crystal blue eyes. “Rift and I are going out on our farewell tour, and the boys will be home while I’m away.” He ran a hand through his curly, silvering hair and sighed. “You know your step brothers.”

She giggled and brushed a strand of mahogany hair from her brown eyes. “Say no more. You want someone responsible around to make sure they don’t destroy the place.”

Dad’s face broke into a wide grin that made him look like the kid next door. “Exactly.”

***

It wasn’t that her twin step brothers, Shane and Hunter, were irresponsible. It was just that when they got together, trouble usually followed close behind.

Shane, the up and coming rock star, a drummer who’d followed in his dad’s footsteps, was often the instigator. Although her quieter step brother, a cop with Saint John RCMP, could be just as mischievous too. He just knew how to hide that side of himself better than his rebellious sibling.

They were two years younger than Mickie and drove her crazy when she’d lived with the pair as a teenager. Now she’d have to spend two months making sure they didn’t throw any wild house parties and destroy her step dad’s place. Perhaps now that Hunter was a cop he’d be less quick to cause trouble. She could hope for small favors at least.

They’d also drove her nuts sexually. Constantly flirting and frustrating her, teasing and tempting. But as a young girl she’d been intent on school. Getting good grades and getting into college immediately after graduation had been her only focus. She hadn’t had sex until she’d been close to finishing her journalism degree. And then it had been two failed attempts at best. Both with fumbling frat boys who were too drunk to find her nipples, let alone anything else.

She was in the kitchen rummaging through the fridge for sandwich fixings when Shane came home. The door slammed. Bags dropped to the foyer floor with a heavy thump and the jingle of buckles and zippers.

Mickie turned and almost dropped the mayo.

“My big sister is here!” Shane held his arms wide and gave her a dazzling smile.

***

Read an excerpt from a sizzling new Wild & Lawless release
Surrender To His Proposal Surrender Series Volume 2, Part 1
by Anita Lawless & Roxxy Meyer

Surrender To His Proposal

By Anita Lawless & Roxxy Meyer

The roof is beyond leaking. If I don’t get someone in soon, the entire attic might become a swimming pool.

“I can fix it for you,” Jake says, and he notices my discomfort at his words, because he quickly adds, “Or I know someone who can do it cheap.”

Pride. I shake my head at myself, knowing pride is going to kill me one day. And a woman can’t be full of pride when she has two boys to raise and bills she can’t pay piling up.

“Carrie.” Jake leans across the arborite table I picked up at a flea market and squeezes my hand. “Let me help you.”

I smile at his boyish face, those cute dimples in his cheeks. “You’ve already helped me by renting part of this place, and doing the fixing up you’ve already done.”

Jake Black rents the apartment above the garage attached to my old two story Cape Cod home. I inherited the place from my mom when she passed on, and it was a lifesaver, since my husband of fifteen years picked that time—right after my mother’s funeral—to leave me with two boys to raise. Preston and Michael are eight and twelve.

Jake is undeniably handsome. He’s got a mix of boyish good looks and rugged male, with his bright green eyes and rounded face, work roughened hands from days spent as a carpenter, and a five o’ clock shadow that’s just as red as the hair on his head. But we aren’t together. I’m just not ready for that yet. It’s only been six months since I lost mom and went through the divorce.

That being said, there have been hot kisses and much more, but we haven’t had sex yet. I don’t want to lead Jake on, or confuse my own currently messed up head and heart. Still, when he moved in here to help me and the kids out, it was a blessing I was entirely grateful for.

“There’s a lot more I could do for you,” he says, standing to walk behind my chair and feather a few kisses up my neck.

I try to make a quip about this. “Two redheads shouldn’t sleep together. The results could be catastrophic.” His tiny kisses make me shiver.

Just at that moment, my boys decide to run into the kitchen. Preston, my youngest, holds a paper in his hand and his eyes are wide. “Mom, can I please sign up for hockey this year?”

I don’t know what to say to that sweet, freckled face. His brown, puppy-like eyes beseech, but we simply can’t afford it. Not ready to break his heart, I say, “We’ll see, hon.”

He prunes his face and makes a minor protest, but Jake distracts them both with the proposition of some two on one road hockey, out in the dirt alley that runs between our place and Mrs. Granger’s. I’m thankful for the time this gives me to think.

And that’s when I see it. An ad in the employment opportunities section catches my attention. I already work on an assembly line building slot machines for a living, but that wage barely covers the bills. It sure won’t fix the roof and the other repairs this old home needs, and it won’t cover hockey fees for Preston either.

But the job notice I stare at, the amount indicated, certainly would. So long as the hours don’t conflict with my other work, I could take this, should I get it, and finally get this house spruced up, give my kids some money for recreational activities that they’ve been dying to join.

The notice says: Woman between 20 - 35 needed to test innovative new designer products. Must have an open mind and a healthy attitude toward sex. Apply in person with resume at Suite 001-353 Bloominfield Blvd.

And the monthly income it cites makes my eyes widen.
I can do this
, I think. I’ve got an open mind and a healthy attitude toward sex. For the income offered, I’ll dance naked on tabletops at this point.

But when I show the ad to Jake after I join him and the boys outside, he gently takes my arm, gives me a concerned expression, and ushers me to the side of the house.

“Are you crazy, Carrie?” He looks angry as well as concerned. “This could be a setup. You could get raped or killed.”

I shake my head at his protest, cross my arms over the front of my spring cardigan. “I’ll be fine.” When he frowns deeper, I put an arm around his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze. Close to his ear, I whisper, “I’ll take protection with me, and I’ll text you as soon as I get to the place and once I meet the interviewer to let you know I’m safe. How’s that?” I’m registered to carry a handgun, and I’m a very good shot, too. Years of target practice with my dad, now also passed on, gave me an eagle eye and aim.

“You should let me come with you,” Jake says, still wearing that deep frown that barely crinkles his smooth, pale face.

“Someone has to take care of the kids,” I protest, feeling a bit guilty for asking his to be a last minute babysitter yet again. “I’ll pay you.”

He shakes his head at me, then a smile spreads, bringing out his adorable dimples. “You don’t have to pay me for watching the kids. Don’t even think about it.” Then he wraps his arm tighter around my shoulder, swipes a quick kiss over my lips before saying, “Please be careful.”

I swat at him playfully. “Don’t mother me, for cripes sake. I’ll be fine.” Then I quickly give him another kiss before adding, “Thanks for watching the kids again.”

***

A few days later, I’m up way before the kids and Jake, showered, and dressed before they even stomp down the stairs for breakfast. Jake protests, saying I should’ve let him help me with the bacon and eggs. I wave him off to ask if I look presentable for my upcoming interview.

His green eyes shine. “You look beautiful.”

The kids make silly noises at this, and Michael asks when me and Jake are getting married, with a cheeky grin spread across his face. I tell him to eat his bacon and mind his business. He just laughs. He gets his precocious streak from me, I admit. His brother just grins a lopsided grin and chows down on his eggs.

Now sitting in my beat up old Pontiac Sunfire, I take a last minute to inspect myself before I drive off. I’m wearing my best dress—one of my only dresses, now I’m on a tight budget. A spring knee-length number in pink with tiny white polka dots spotting the thin material. I’ve put on my Aunt Peg’s pearls for good luck and pinned up my fiery red hair in a neat, simple chignon. Applied a bit of makeup to my cheeks, a wisp of shadow to enhance my blue eyes, and a tint of pink lip gloss to my lips. I frown at my reflection, worried that I look more like June Cleaver than someone with an open mind and a healthy attitude toward sex.

“Oh well.” I tell my worrisome self. “It’ll have to do.”

***

The building at 353 Bloominfield Blvd used to be an old brownstone, but it’s been recently converted into office space. I approach a man with a pleasant smile and a bulldog face to ask him where exactly Suite 001 is. But first I send Jake a text to let him know all looks good so far.

His face blanches and he raises an eyebrow. “Why does a respectable looking lady like you want Suite 001?”

I play with my pearls and almost consider telling him I’ve made a mistake. I contemplate this and leaving, but the dollar amount in the ad flashes in my mind again. “I’m here about the job advertised.” I point to the classified I’ve circled with yellow highlighter.