Secrets, Volume 6: The Best in Women's Erotic Romance by MaryJanice Davidson, Alice Gaines

From the Publisher

Listen to what reviewers have to say:

"Fans of erotic romance know that Secrets is no secret anymore. All four stories are well written, entertaining, but require a warning label: Venus Hot — Handle lovers with caressing care." — Harriet Klausner

"Secrets Volume 6 is the best of Secrets yet. ...four of the most erotic stories in one volume than this reader has yet to see anywhere else. ... These stories are full of erotica at its best and you'll definitely want to keep it handy for lots of re-reading!" — Affaire de Coeur Magazine

"Secrets 6 satisfies every female fantasy: the Bodyguard, the Tutor, the Werewolf, and the Vampire. I give it Six Stars!" — Virginia Henley, New York Times Best Selling Author

Love's Prisoner by Mary Janice Davidson: Trapped in an elevator, Jeannie Lawrence experienced unwilling rapture at Michael Windham's hands. She never expected the devilishly handsome man to show back up in her life — or turn out to be a werewolf! Will she accept her destiny to be his mate?

REVIEWS: Werewolves can be so sexy! Just read what reviewers say about this hot tale.

"MaryJanice Davidson states she has a "soft spot" for werewolves. She also thinks they're damn sexy and makes the reader think so, too. Her sultry sex scenes sizzle with suppressed violence, while combining rough treatment with a gentleness that makes the skin tingle. But the heroine is no whimpering victim either. She holds her own against her werewolf lover in a battle of wills that will have you weak for more. This is erotica at it's best. I don't think I'll ever be afraid of werewolves again!" — Affaire de Coeur review

"Get set forsome high-powered sex and romance that will have your howling at the moon for Mr. Gorgeous too! Ms. Davidson created a memorable story in Love's Prisoner that I know I won't forget. Very creative and it sure gets your juices flowing in the right direction!" — Suzanne Coleburn, The Belles and Beaux of Romance

Congratulations to MaryJanice Davidson for her story's nomination for the 2000 P.E.A.R.L. Award for Best Novella or Short Story.

Congratulations again to MaryJanice Davidson! Love's Prisoner won first place for Best Science Fiction Romance Short Story in the 2000 Sapphire Awards.

The Canadate For The Kiss by Angela Knight: On the trail of a hot story, reporter Dana Ivory stumbles onto a more amazing one — a sexy, secret agent who happens to be a vampire. She wants her story but Gabriel Archer wants something more from her than just sex and blood.

REVIEWS: The reviewers loved Angela Knight's latest vampire tale and you will too!

"Cool, sexy, possessed of an iron control and skilled in the art of fulfilling fantasies, Gabriel Archer is the epitome of the demon lover. He's non-threatening in a threatening manner (if that makes any sense), yet makes a woman feel totally loved and protected. This is one of the sexiest stories I've read in a while and a definite turn-on. This is the stuff that dreams are made of!" — Affaire de Coeur review

"Watch out, and hold onto your hats, because this is way out dangerous, seductive, pulse pounding, talking dirty (the whole nine yards), and it will leave you breathless! In fact, it will shock you, knock you out, and sock it to you as your socks and anything else might get shredded to bits as you read this one. Be warned!" — Suzanne Coleburn, The Belles and Beaux of Romance

Congratulations to Angela Knight. A Candidate for the Kiss won the 2000 P.E.A.R.L. Award for Best Novella or Short Story!

The Education Of Miss Felicity Wells by Alice Gaines: Felicity Wells wants to be sure she'll satisfy her soon-to-be husband but she needs a teacher. Dr. Marcus Slade, an experienced lover, agrees to take her on as a student, but can he stop short of taking her completely?

REVIEWS: Check out what reviewers had to say about this sizzling saga.

"The story of innocence deliberately lost is one long seduction scene created by a mastermind. Alice Gaines shows an insight into the art of seduction and being seduced that makes the reader wish they were a virgin again and needed instruction. Sex education was never like this in school!" — Affaire de Coeur review

"Alice Gaines does a great job of seeing how high she can make you climb the ladder as far as sexual tension is concerned in this fine tale of seduction." — Suzanne Coleburn, The Belles and Beaux of Romance

Flint's Fuse by Sandy Fraser: Dana Madison's father has her "kidnapped" for her own safety. Flint, the tall, dark and dangerous mercenary, is hired for the job. But just which one is the prisoner — Dana will try anything to get away.

REVIEWS: Sandy, unfortunately, is no longer with us, but she's left us with a delightful tale and the reviewers agree.

"Sandy Fraser, in one of her last novellas, has captured the heady excitement of being in a situation that you can't control, but know you also won't be hurt. And when your captor is a big, sexy hunk that makes your knees week just looking at him, even the capitivity doesn't seem bad. Ms. Fraser makes your senses reel with her feisty, spirited sex scenes between two equally stubborn people who are thrown together by fate. But no matter how stubborn each can be, there always has to be somebody on top!" — Affaire de Coeur review

"Flint's Fuse set off my fuse! This story is hot, sexy and sweet as the dickens too! Sandy Fraser really pushes the envelope in this sexy, erotic tale. I am sorry she is no longer around to see all the fireworks her steamy tale sets off." — Suzanne Coleburn, The Belles and Beaux of Romance

Product Details

• Table of Contents
• Read an Excerpt

Table of Contents

Read an Excerpt

EXCERPT FROM LOVE'S PRISONER

Engrossed as she was in Glamour's Do's and Don'ts, Jeannie Lawrence scarcely noticed when the elevator jolted to an abrupt halt. She did notice when the lights went out.

"Oh, come on!" she cried, slapping her magazine shut. Getting stuck in an elevator during a power outage was nowhere on her to-do list. Today, anyway.

"Not now," a voice muttered, and she nearly shrieked. She hadn't known anyone else was in the elevator with her. When she had her nose in a book or magazine, she wouldn't have noticed if Barney the Dinosaur was in the elevator with her.

"Well, this is a fine fix, huh?" she asked the voice. "Of all the days to drop my ad copy off early! I guess it's true — no good deed goes unpunished. What are you going to be late for? Me, I'm trying to beat the rush hour traffic to the bridge. I can't stand it when—"

"Hush."

The voice was a pleasant baritone, one she liked despite its abruptness. She hushed, not offended. Some people didn't like talking to strangers. Or maybe this guy was claustrophobic. Or—what was fear of the dark? Darkophobic? Whatever it was, he was clearly unhappy to be trapped in an elevator for who knew how long. Poor guy. She hoped he didn't get the screaming meemies. There was nothing worse than a grown man having hysterics.

"Sorry," she said, then added, "I'm sure we won't be here long."

She heard a sound and recognized it immediately: the man trapped with her had taken a couple steps back. Almost as if he was trying to put as much space between them as he could.

Exasperated, she said, "For crying out loud! I don't have cooties. Anymore," she added, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Be quiet.And step into the far corner. Now."

"The hell I will!" She turned toward the voice. "Look, just because you're feeling antisocial doesn't mean I—"

"Don't." No pleasant baritone that time. That one sounded like a growl, like he'd forced the word out through gritted teeth. "Don't come near me. Keep away. When you move, you stir around the air currents and I get more of your scent."

"And that's bad, right?" Great, she thought with grim humor. Trapped with someone who skipped his medication this morning. Why didn't I take the stairs?

"No. It's not bad." His voice, low in the dark, was a throbbing baritone she could feel along her spine. "It's... extraordinary."

"Gosh, thanks." Uh-huh. Clearly a nutcake, sexy voice or no. She hadn't had time to put perfume on after her shower. He couldn't smell a damn thing, except maybe a lingering whiff of Dial soap. "Do you have a special doctor you tell these things to? Someone you should call when we get out of here?" He barked laughter. "I'm not insane. I'm not surprised that's the conclusion you've drawn, though. What is your name?"

"Jane Doe."

He chuckled softly. "What harm could it do to tell me your real name?"

EXCERPT FROM A CANADATE FOR THE KISS

"Just how many vampires does the FBI have on the payroll?" Dana asked, sounding as cool as Sam Donaldson grilling the President. A real feat considering the rapid heartbeat he could hear slamming out her terror. The question startled an admiring laugh out of him.

"Damn, you've got guts. No brains to speak of, but guts to spare."

"Just doing my job, Agent. And you didn't answer the question."

"I'm not with the FBI. It's another federal agency all together."

"Called?"

"I could tell you." Archer smiled slowly as he put his own spin on the old spook joke. "But then I'd have to bite you."

"I could guess, and you could nod," Dana suggested boldly. "The Bureau of Vampire Intelligence? The Central Vampire Agency?" Her full mouth twitched in an impish smile. "Fangs 'R' Us?"

"The Federal Office of Inquiry and Analysis." She wouldn't remember it in ten minutes anyway.

"Never heard of it."

"I'd be worried if you had."

"Sounds more like accountants than vampires."

"That's the idea."

"How long have you been a vampire, anyway?"

Archer shook his head. "I can't believe you're trying to interview me. Not thirty minutes ago, you watched me come close to tearing out a man's throat. Most people would be babbling right about now."

"I'm babbling on the inside. How long have you been a vampire?"

"Two hundred and twenty-six years." He just wanted to see her reaction. She didn't give him one.

"How long have you been working for the government?"

"Two hundred and twenty-three."

EXCERPT FROM THE EDUCATION OF MISS FELICITY WELLS

"Thank you," Dr. Slade said. He set his pen aside and reached toward Felicity. His fingers touched the top button of the shirt she wore, and she jumped nearly out of her skin. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly. "I only want to look at your throat."

She took a steadying breath and tried to relax as he unfastened the button and moved the fabric aside. He peered intently at her skin, at the violent flush that covered her neck and shoulders. Then he moved his hands to where the pulse beat at the base of her throat. He must have liked what he discovered there, because a tiny smile crossed his lips. He closed the shirt and studied her. "You're embarrassed."

"Yes."

"Is it only that? Or is there more reason for you to color like this?"

She could lie. Anyone would be embarrassed to tell a story like that. He'd believe her if she lied. "There's more," she answered. "Much more."

He made no comment but merely rose from his chair and walked to a book shelf, leaving her to sit where she was. Miserable and ashamed and excited beyond any reason. She hugged the shirt around her naked body and moved once again, trying to find some release. But everything she did made matters worse.

After a moment, he returned with a large volume bound in leather. "I want you to look at some pictures and tell me how they make you feel."

He resumed his seat and set the book in front of her. "What do you know about the male anatomy?"

If it was possible for her skin to grow even hotter, it did. She could feel the blush to the roots of her hair. "I've seen my cat groom himself. I know there's something that grows stiff on a man the same way it does on my cat."

"But you've never seen a man in that state."

"No. Cousin Henry did push his hips against me that time, and I felt a hardness there. I assume that's what that was."

"Charming fellow, your cousin Henry," he said. "You're not marrying him, I hope."

"Certainly not. No one in my family can abide him."

"Good." He opened the book, looking at the pages upside-down. "Look at this picture and tell me what you see."

She glanced down and found a picture of a naked man and woman sitting on a blanket in a sunlit grove. A very distinct protuberance stuck straight out from the man's body. "It looks like a shaft, I imagine," she said. "And there's a rather large, reddened tip on the end."

"Does it frighten you?" he said.

"No," she answered. "That is, yes, a little. But it's not unattractive, either. It's compelling in an odd way."

"Look at some more pictures," he said.

She turned a page and found a brown-skinned couple, both partially clad. The man was fondling the woman's breast while she stroked his shaft. Both appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely. She turned another page, and a little cry of alarm escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"This man," she managed to gasp, looking down at the picture. It showed a man and woman in Asian dress. Preparing to couple, no doubt. But oh dear heaven, no one could be proportioned like this man. His thing was as thick as a woman's forearm and almost as long. "It isn't possible. No man could be built like this."

Dr. Slade looked at the page and laughed. "That's shenga," he said. "A Japanese form where the size of the man's cock is exaggerated for stylistic purposes."

"So, it isn't real?"

"No." He turned the page and glanced at another picture. "This is more realistic for the average man."

She studied another depiction of a male nude, his thick cock standing proudly erect. The proportions of this man seemed much more possible, but he was still very imposing, indeed. A woman was supposed to take something this large inside her body?

"May I ask you a question?" she said, looking up and meeting Dr. Slade's gaze straight on. "You're made the same as these men, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Are you as big as this man?"

He looked again at the picture briefly. "Rather larger, actually."

Oh dear heaven.

"You'll see for yourself soon," he added. "All I'd need to do is stand before you now, and you'd get a very good idea of the size of my rod from the bulge in the front of my pants."

She raised her hands to her lips. "You're in that, um, state now? Even as we sit here?"

"I've been fully erect since you told me about your dream." He smiled at her, more than a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

"Oh, dear," she gasped, too terrified and too fascinated to say yes or no.

He rose and walked around the desk until he stood right in front of her. He parted the sides of his jacket, and true to his word, an enormous bulge distended his trousers. She stared at it and swallowed hard. Heaven help her, her fingers ached to touch the thing. To stroke him and see what he'd do. But she didn't. She just sat and gaped at him.

After what seemed like several minutes, he reached out a hand toward her. "Come."

EXCERPT FROM FLINT'S FUSE

In the dark of the moon, a phantom shadow masked and dressed in black stalked his target. With cat-like silence he slipped down the hall to her bedroom in the rear wing of the gigantic house.

The timing and execution had been perfect. The moonless night, the disabled security system, and access to Madison's estate. He paused, listening to his breathing, preparing to make his move.

Grimly, Flint smiled. Madison had brought him off a big assignment in Australia, given him a detailed floor plan and a picture of his pretty daughter.

"A bitch on wheels," Madison had sighed. "There's not a man alive who can check her. She's a five-star general in the battle of the sexes. The good guys lose. Look, Flint, if I asked her nicely to take a vacation, she'd pry, ask too many questions. But my sources tell me International Investments is not unwilling to threaten family members to up the leverage during a merger." He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. "Take her to a place I don't know. I'll spread the word she's on safari. Call my lawyer in Lisbon once a week. I'll leave word so you'll know when it's over."

"She'll be scared. How much do I tell her?" Flint thumbed the picture of the leggy blond.

"Anything, but for God's sake, don't tell her I'm involved."

The glacial captain of industry had a note of panic in his voice.

"Some simple kidnapping story should suffice. I'll pay the non-existent ransom, and you'll bring her home."

Flint rose, and Madison got to his feet.

"You've fought your way out of jungles, killed men with your bare hands, taken bullets meant for somebody else. You're not the kind of man who relies on luck." Madison shook his hand.

"But you'll need all the luck you can get now, you poor bastard."

Flint wrote off the warning as a dose of the tycoon's notorious gallows' humor. Apparently Madison thought snatching a woman was a big deal. Real operatives knew it was chump change compared to the tough jobs.

He turned the knob and eased the door open. Dana Madison was a motionless slender form under silk sheets in a room scented like Paradise. Walk in the park, he told himself.

But the instant he touched the bed, Dana sprang up and delivered a side snap-kick to his jaw. Good placement, he judged, but ineffective because the mattress gave her no base for balance, and he was too fast. Flint grabbed her ankle, toppled her, and covered her, feeling her lush breasts mash into his chest.

He gripped her thighs with his knees, and to shut off her cry slapped duct tape over her mouth, bound her flailing wrists and ankles. "Hush," he whispered. "Be still. I won't hurt you."

She growled behind the tape and tried to wrench out of his grasp. Easily he lifted her, carried her down the hall, and had to still her thrashings with a nerve block. He had an image of caressing her, burying his face in her throat.