And what could possibly keep a woman warm better than a heated holiday romance with the perfect guy? How about three or more perfect men in each story: from billionaires to snowboarders, rockstars, cowboys, and more. That’s right–each story has at least three male love interests and our heroine…she doesn’t have to choose.
She gets them all.
“Snow and Seduction” is the sexy reverse harem romance anthology you’ve been waiting for.
~This Anthology Includes Stories From The Following Eighteen Authors~
1. Tate James writing "Slopes of Sin"
2. Yumoyori Wilson writing "Visionary Christmas"
3. C.M. Stunich writing "Blizzards and Bastards"
4. G. Bailey writing "Triple Kisses"
5. Laura Greenwood writing "Sweet About Me"
6. Tamara White writing "Kidnapped on Christmas"
7. Cece Rose writing "Snowflake"
8. Skye MacKinnon writing "Streets of Winter"
9. Arizona Tape writing "Mary F*cking Christmas"
10. Ripley Proserpina writing "Thief of Hearts"
11. K.B. Ladnier writing "The More the Merrier"
12. N.R. Spratlin writing "Their Little Helper"
13. Lucy Smoke writing "Study Break"
14. Amanda Rose writing "Frosted By My Billionaires"
15. Bea Paige writing "Avalanche of Desire"
16. CB Morrigan writing "Sugar Plum Fantasies"
17. Raya Love writing "Holly's Jolly Christmas"
18. Tracy Dawn writing "A Long Winter's Rest"
From Blizzards and Bastards by by C.M. Stunich
Just as I'm starting to question whether I imagined the strong sexual tension between Frost and me, he's opening the door and slipping inside.
Uh.
Slipping inside the room, that is. Inside the room. Not me. Not yet.
“This is just a quick thing between adults,” Frost says, his pupils dilated, his cock obviously erect underneath his black jeans. I swallow hard as his smell overwhelms me, the sweet and musky scent of sage and pine. Oh, holy lord. He smells like the Balsam Fir incense my dad always special orders in bulk from the Vermont Country Store.
I love that fucking smell.
It's a part of my goddamn identity.
“Purely a biological need being fulfilled,” I say, huffing out my breath and reaching up to gather my brunette hair so I can pull it over my shoulders. “Like … when you're hungry and you eat a sandwich …”
“Shut the fuck up,” Frost says, but before I can protest, he's scooping my face up in his hands and pulling my mouth to his. He crushes our lips together, tossing aside all the typical niceties of a romantic encounter and going straight for the sex.
Works for me.
We aren't going to see each other ever again after today, so what's the harm? I wasn't kidding about that sandwich thing either. If I'm thirsty, I get a drink of water. If I'm horny, I … screw a random rockstar on his tour bus.
Frost puts his hands under my ass and lifts me up onto the countertop, stepping between my thighs and pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against my white leggings. He grinds against me as we kiss, moving his hips in a way that tells me this is going to be good.
Beyond good.
Phenomenal.
Our kiss breaks apart and he pauses for a moment, his eyes half-lidded, his breath feathering across my wet lips.
“You're a much better kisser than you are a stalker,” he says, and I grab him by the waistband, dragging him even closer.
“Let's hope you're a better lover than your rude and unintelligent commentary implies,” I say, ripping his jeans open and sending the button flying across the room. Oops. Whatever. He's rich, right? He can just go out and buy some more three hundred dollar jeans.
“I can't believe I'm doing this,” he mutters, shoving his pants down over his ass, revealing a pair of way-too-tight black briefs. But, oh, the way they cup his family jewels? Beautiful. My star-covered hand slides down the flatness of his t-shirt, feeling his hard muscles begging for skin to skin contact underneath. I cup his junk with my hand and massage it, groaning so loudly that Frost reaches up his own tattooed hand and clamps it right over my mouth. “Shh,” he purrs, “screwing random girls is Vale's thing, not mine. I don't want this getting out.”
I flick my tongue against his palm and this time, he groans.
“Shit,” Frost murmurs, pulling open the drawer next to my left leg and digging around inside it. He comes up with a condom and tears it open with his teeth, slowly dropping his hand away from my mouth.
“You're not supposed to use your teeth,” I start, but he just rolls his gorgeous green eyes and clamps his hand right over my mouth again. Normally, that move would just piss me off, but … no, no, it does piss me off, but I'm totally feeling this whole hate-fuck thing we have going on right now.
Frost holds the condom package between his lips for a moment, uses his left hand to shove his underwear over his cock, and lets it spring free between us.
Oh.
Wow.
Uh.
Slipping inside the room, that is. Inside the room. Not me. Not yet.
“This is just a quick thing between adults,” Frost says, his pupils dilated, his cock obviously erect underneath his black jeans. I swallow hard as his smell overwhelms me, the sweet and musky scent of sage and pine. Oh, holy lord. He smells like the Balsam Fir incense my dad always special orders in bulk from the Vermont Country Store.
I love that fucking smell.
It's a part of my goddamn identity.
“Purely a biological need being fulfilled,” I say, huffing out my breath and reaching up to gather my brunette hair so I can pull it over my shoulders. “Like … when you're hungry and you eat a sandwich …”
“Shut the fuck up,” Frost says, but before I can protest, he's scooping my face up in his hands and pulling my mouth to his. He crushes our lips together, tossing aside all the typical niceties of a romantic encounter and going straight for the sex.
Works for me.
We aren't going to see each other ever again after today, so what's the harm? I wasn't kidding about that sandwich thing either. If I'm thirsty, I get a drink of water. If I'm horny, I … screw a random rockstar on his tour bus.
Frost puts his hands under my ass and lifts me up onto the countertop, stepping between my thighs and pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against my white leggings. He grinds against me as we kiss, moving his hips in a way that tells me this is going to be good.
Beyond good.
Phenomenal.
Our kiss breaks apart and he pauses for a moment, his eyes half-lidded, his breath feathering across my wet lips.
“You're a much better kisser than you are a stalker,” he says, and I grab him by the waistband, dragging him even closer.
“Let's hope you're a better lover than your rude and unintelligent commentary implies,” I say, ripping his jeans open and sending the button flying across the room. Oops. Whatever. He's rich, right? He can just go out and buy some more three hundred dollar jeans.
“I can't believe I'm doing this,” he mutters, shoving his pants down over his ass, revealing a pair of way-too-tight black briefs. But, oh, the way they cup his family jewels? Beautiful. My star-covered hand slides down the flatness of his t-shirt, feeling his hard muscles begging for skin to skin contact underneath. I cup his junk with my hand and massage it, groaning so loudly that Frost reaches up his own tattooed hand and clamps it right over my mouth. “Shh,” he purrs, “screwing random girls is Vale's thing, not mine. I don't want this getting out.”
I flick my tongue against his palm and this time, he groans.
“Shit,” Frost murmurs, pulling open the drawer next to my left leg and digging around inside it. He comes up with a condom and tears it open with his teeth, slowly dropping his hand away from my mouth.
“You're not supposed to use your teeth,” I start, but he just rolls his gorgeous green eyes and clamps his hand right over my mouth again. Normally, that move would just piss me off, but … no, no, it does piss me off, but I'm totally feeling this whole hate-fuck thing we have going on right now.
Frost holds the condom package between his lips for a moment, uses his left hand to shove his underwear over his cock, and lets it spring free between us.
Oh.
Wow.
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I would like to give thanks for all your really great writings, including the Snow and Seduction: A Steamy Reverse Harem Winter Collection. I wish the best in keeping up the good work in the future.
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