Authors: Nina Bangs
“Plenty of laugh-out-loud moments . . . if you're looking for fun and fantasy, you'll find it here!”
“Sizzling! Very highly recommended. . . . Witty eroticism reaches new heights . . . A remarkable blend of extremes, including charming, endearing, and exciting,
The Pleasure Master
lends a new definition to the word âtease' as it titillates the reader.”
The Pleasure Master
is an irreverent, sexy, and hilarious romp through 1542 Scotland.”
“Cosmic chaos and laughs abound in the latest wild romp from the always wonderful Bangs. Sexy and sizzling, this is paranormal fun with lots of spice.”
“Nina Bangs can be depended upon to give her readers a good laugh.”
âThe Eternal Night
“[Bangs] mixes in several different paranormal elements and equal measures of passion and humor to create her latest wonderfully creative, utterly unique romance.”
“If you're looking for a book to heat up [those] cold winter nights, I highly recommend
Master of Ecstasy
âRomance Reviews Today
“When it comes to combining sexy situations and humor, Bangs has it nailed. This sensuous and funny tale of time travel and vampires brims with excitement, making it a true winner!”
“Be prepared for loads of laughs in this truly hilarious and sexy book.”
“A sensual time travel that at once titillates and satisfies . . . a tempestuous fantasy with scintillating details . . . very highly recommended.”
âThe Midwest Book Review
“Nina Bangs has to be the imagination queen of amusing sexual romances, for who else could come up with such a plot? . . .
is a humorous satire poking fun at the games people play.”
“Nina bangs has come up with a completely new and unique twist on the time travel theme and has delivered a story that is both humorous and captivating. No one is exactly what they appear in this clever tale.”
“If you're looking for a funny, heart-wrenching and truly lovely romance to read, try this one. You won't be disappointed.”
âAll About Romance
“Heed me, Kathy of Hair. A woman's need and fulfillment start
He placed only his index finger against her forehead, yet she felt the connection all the way to her toes.
“Not here.” He ran his finger down the side of her jaw, her neck, then stopped as he touched the tip of her nipple.
Could've fooled me.
She sucked in her breath at the sizzle of sensation that spread like honey on a hot day. Why couldn't she move away, break the connection? Why didn't she
“Nor here.” He drew his finger between her breasts, down over her stomach, then laid his palm flat against her skirt, and her thighs clenched as though no material separated his flesh from hers, as though she could hold his touch warm between her legs.
“No!” With her last ragged shred of willpower, she rolled away from him.
He let her go.
“Pleasure Master, my foot. You're just like my ex. You're nothing but a womanizer with a fancy title. I bet you never met a woman you didn't love.”
He leaned back and stared at her. He seemed truly puzzled. “'Tis not about love. lass. 'Tis about joining with another for pleasure. I teach women how to take a man's body and enjoy the taking.”
Other books by Nina Bangs:
MASTER OF ECSTASY
FROM BOARDWALK WITH LOVE
SEDUCTION BY CHOCOLATE
AN ORIGINAL SIN
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
Copyright Â© 2001 by Nina Bangs
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Trade ISBN: 13: 978-1-4285-1653-3
E-book ISBN: 978-1-4285-0366-3
First Dorchester Publishing, Co., Inc. edition: June 2001
The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
Visit us online at
To my parents, who instilled in me
a lifelong love of reading.
Great form, no function, and they both overheated at the wrong time. Who needed them?
Kathy Bartlett glanced in her rearview mirror hoping to spot her hero of the moment, Rod's Reliable Tow Service. Nothing.
Okay, so she'd lied. She needed her car, but she needed it
“Speaking of function . . .” She glanced at the shiny hourglass-shaped toy perched on the seat beside her. “What the heck do you do?” She picked up the toy, turned it over, tapped the amber lights on top of its head, then plunked it back onto the seat.
“The strong silent type, huh? Hate to break this to you, but young America likes toys that
something. Loudly. That's why you were left on the
shelf, kiddo.” She stared out her sleet-blurred windshield at the passing New York traffic. Great Christmas Eve. “You know, you sort of remind me of my ex-husband, Peter Matthew Stone. Looks hot, does squat. A major PMS moment in my life. Mind if I call you Peter?”
The toy was cool with that.
“What did I do to deserve this, Peter? I'm an okay person. I make women's hair safe for America. When Alice asked me to pick up some toys for the shelter, I said sure. I didn't hire a hit man to knock off old PMS because he's suing me for mental anguish. And I never once laughed when he called a certain body part his love gun. So why is this happening to
Peter hadn't a clue.
“This is all your fault, Peter.”
Peter didn't think so.
“I get out of work late, then run to a few stores looking for toys. You know what's left on Christmas Eve? Rejects. No offense.”
Peter handled it.
“Now I'm stuck on the side of the road with a sack of slightly weird toys in my trunk and one beside me. Fine. So I'm a pushover. I bought you because you were just sitting on the shelf. Admit it, though, you were feeling kind of lonely all by yourself. Hey, I understand what it's like on the shelf. Besides, no one should be alone on Christmas.”
Kathy cast another look in her mirror, then sighed with relief when she saw the tow truck edging
toward her out of the darkness on the shoulder of the highway.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. Sleet and frigid air hit her in the face. Yech. Shoving her cell phone into her purse, she grabbed her backpack full of hair supplies, climbed out, then went to retrieve her bag of toys from the trunk. Maybe she could convince the driver to swing past the shelter. She'd hate to think of kids without toys on Christmas morning.
Darn, she'd forgotten Peter. She'd just shove him into the sack with the other toys. Pulling open the passenger door, she watched blankly as he tumbled out of the car and landed on his face. At least she guessed it was his face. Sort of hard to tell.
Amazed, she stared at him. “Gee, look what shook loose. You're now the proud owner of three sturdy legs.” Sighing, she picked him up and set him next to her. “You'll make someone a great bedside table, pal, but you won't fit in the bag with those legs sticking out.”
Staring into the darkness, she hunched her shoulders and tried to stop shivering. Damn, damn, and double damn.
this. I need a vacation, Peter. Somewhere warm, peaceful, with every modern convenience at my fingertips, and no stress. And I may as well throw in a man. Yeah, a man who'll do everything I want, never argue, and won't
tell me to relax and enjoy it.”
A gust of wind blew sleet into her face.
“That's it, Peter. I want warmth, peace, conveniences,
and a subservient man. How's that sound?”
Peter must've thought it sounded pretty good because his amber lights flashed, and he rose to his full height, which wasn't too spectacular.
A sudden wave of dizziness drove away all thoughts of Peter. A kaleidoscope of whirling colors made her slightly nauseated. She knew she couldn't be freezing to death because she could still feel her toes.
Please, don't let me pass out.
She couldn't let Mrs. Tierney down tomorrow. The ninety-year-old woman would be waiting for her monthly cut, knock-em-dead blond coloring, and the latest issue of
. Mrs. Tierney's cheapskate nephew had stopped paying Kathy years ago, but that didn't matter. Mrs. Tierney called Kathy her hair princess. It felt good to be someone's princess.
Kathy blinked, trying to clear her vision. Kick her if she skipped any more lunches trying to squeeze in frantic clients.
The whirling colors had become a long tunnel with Peter's flashing amber lights at its end. A neardeath experience?
She sank to her knees still clutching her purse, backpack, and bag of toys. If the tow truck driver discovered her cold stiff body, she hoped he'd find Peter a good home.
And as the whirling colors took her, Peter spoke.
“Hasta la vista,
Arnold Schwarzenegger? Big bad voice for cute little toy? Poor marketing decision. No wonder good old Peter was left warming the shelf. What parents would want their kid to have a two-foot-high tin Terminator?
“Ye must prove yer worthiness, Ian. 'Tis the only fair way. What say ye, Neil?”
Kathy winced. Talking about big bad voices . . . The tow truck driver? She knelt on the ground, still clutching her things.
“Aye. Ye're the eldest, Ian, but that doesna mean ye're the best. Neil Ross has satisfied many a lass.”
Well, cheers for Neil Ross. At least satisfied customers meant he knew which end of her car to hook up to.