Wild Wild West

In one of the most searingly erotic Westerns ever penned, Charlene Teglia breaches uncharted territory. But reader beware: this tale is hotter than hell. The faint of heart should turn back now…

Three city girls from Seattle are enjoying a night out at a chic coffee house in downtown Missoula, Montana, the heart of the old West. When a gang of cowboys mosey in looking for trouble, they find trouble of the best kind… and these boys are primed and ready to ride. There’s Gabe, a hard-bodied rancher who’s discovered some imaginative new uses for rope. Chet, a rodeo cowboy who’s charmed the pants off more than a few country girls and vows to remain a bachelor for life. And Reuben, a former Army ranger with a taste for edgy sexual games. As the couples embark on a scorching night of passion and play, they experience the most exquisite pleasure—and discover kinky new thrills they never dared to imagine. Because when it comes to knocking boots, cowboys do it best…

  • Romance Junkies 5 Blue Ribbons Award
  • Dear Author August Recommended Read

“Teglia pits city women against western guys for an enjoyable and definitely hot trio of reads. Readers will be hankering for these cowboys to leave their boots anywhere in the bedroom they want.” Romantic Times

“Charlene Teglia’s WILD WILD WEST is one scorchingly hot book that is sure to leave readers panting for more. With lovable characters, emotional situations, unforgettable sex scenes, and dialogue that is sure to curl your toes you definitely need to pick up a copy of this book.” Romance Junkies

“If I were to be asked what I thought erotic romance was, I would hand the questioner your book because this is what I want in the subgenre.” Dear Author

“Don’t miss WILD WILD WEST.” Romance Reviews Today Erotic

“Wild, Wild, West has it all; hot cowboys, spicy sex and tender romance.” Joyfully Reviewed

“I absolutely loved Wild Wild West! The stories blend seamlessly, making for a magnetic and thoroughly erotic read. Print fans will discover what e-Book readers have long known: Charlene Teglia is one scintillating author.” Fallen Angel Reviews

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

Copyright 2007 Charlene Teglia
St. Martin’s Press, Aug. 7 2007
All rights reserved

Chapter Two

Crazy from the heat, thought Willow.

Lemon Espresso wasn’t air conditioned and the ceiling fans only did so much. She’d left her bra off and worn her loosest, coolest shirt for tonight’s reading and she still felt sweat trickling between her breasts. But the summer heat didn’t explain why she’d taken one look at a tall, quiet cowboy with hazel eyes and sandy hair and felt her body go hot and tight.

She wasn’t the only one, either. Jolie had gone off with the blonde, blue-eyed cowboy, wearing his hat. She hadn’t wasted any time making good on her vow to go wild before summer ended and she had to sit for the bar exam, cover up her tattoo with suits and bury her high spirits in legal briefs. By now his boots were probably under her bed.

Unless they hadn’t made it further than his pickup truck. Willow imagined the two of them entwined, half-naked, not even taking the time to finish undressing before satisfying that hot aching need, and felt her sex clench with want.

Lucky Jolie.

Even Laura, Lemon Espresso’s hard-working owner who never flirted with customers, had let that third cowboy with eyes and hair so dark they were nearly the color of espresso lift a bag of coffee beans down for her and practically rub his cock into her ass in the process. She’d relaxed back against him like she wanted him to.

All three of them were suffering from the heat and an unwanted stretch of celibacy and it was turning their brains, because for some reason the only men around who even looked like the right gender were those three Montana natives who’d come into the espresso house tonight looking like raw, hard sex in well-worn leather boots and sweat stained cowboy hats.

The two cowboys who seemed to have laid claim to Jolie and Laura had been in several times before, but the one Willow had locked eyes with was new.

She could have sworn her cowboy wouldn’t get up and read when she’d asked, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking. And then he’d surprised her completely. He didn’t look like the type of man who read poetry, let alone went around with whole verses memorized. But he obviously was.
He’d recited every line of a classic poem straight at her. Then he’d touched the brim of his hat, nodded, and left.

Leaving her irritable, overheated, and envious.

Jolie was off making up for the long grind of law school that left no time for fun, let alone relationships. Laura was starting to do the tasks that led up to closing her business for the night with a very good reason to close early watching her work. She was making a success of the venture but she worked long hours. It looked like the man waiting for her to finish up planned to help her unwind.
Dammit. She didn’t begrudge her friends their good fortune, but they were getting lucky while her cowboy had left without a word and she was going home alone to a cold shower or a long masturbation session. Or both.

What she wouldn’t give to be going home to a man who would whisper in her ear all the naughty, forbidden things he was going to do to her. And then do them. One by one. All night long.

She bit her lip to keep from groaning out loud.

It was too hot inside. She couldn’t wait to be outside the confines of the building, feeling the cooling night air on her skin. Time to take her bad mood and her unfulfilled desires and go home.

“Good night, Laura,” she said as she stood up to gather her purse and keys.

“You’re leaving?” Laura brushed back the curtain of straight brown hair that had fallen into her eyes.

“Yes, it’s getting late. We had a good turn-out, though.”

As usual. From the time she first opened the doors, Laura had planned a series of events that included readings from famous authors in the area on vacation, local authors, a broad range of talents and genres and literary affiliations.

She also alternated with other types of events like tarot card readers and displayed artwork by local painters and photographers, rotating to feature a new artist each month as an added attraction to the coffee shop. The result was a brisk business.

Willow had been scheduled for several readings over the course of the summer. She’d come to look forward to them. Whenever she had an appearance at Lemon Espresso, it was well organized, well attended, and Laura made her feel comfortable and at home.

She’d gotten to know the owner and her assistant, Jolie, as the weeks and the heat of summer wore on. Usually the three of them had a good round of girl talk at the end of the night. But tonight, the last thing Laura needed was her loitering when there was a man she clearly wanted to be alone with.
And the last thing Willow needed was to be around other people right now. She wasn’t fit company for anybody.

It wasn’t just the heat, or the lack of male companionship, although she was ridiculously disappointed that the one man who’d captured her interest in longer than she cared to think about had left without another word.

Her residency was coming to an end. So was the leave of absence she’d taken from her job. A job she wanted less, in a place she had less desire to ever go back to, with each day she spent in Missoula. But quitting meant taking an enormous risk. Keeping her job was safer. Smarter. Willow was so tired of doing the safe, smart thing.

She was leaving Montana in two weeks and going back home, though. She’d already started packing. Tonight had been her last reading for the poet in residence program and soon her Missoula experience would be over completely.

Outside the coffee shop, she took a deep breath of night air and felt instantly better. The wide open sky glittered with stars, more than she could see in a big city even on the darkest nights.

What she didn’t expect to find outside, leaning against the building smoking a cigarette, was the man who’d recited Byron to her. She thought her heart actually skipped a beat at the sight of him. He wasn’t gone, after all.

“Where you waiting for me?” Willow asked. Then wished she could take the words back. Dumb question, he was probably waiting for his friend.

“Yes.” He put out his cigarette, field-stripped it and tucked the butt into his pocket. No littering, no risk of fire. The movements were the clear result of long-standing habit from a man who spent a lot of time outdoors and took care to leave nature as he found it.

For some reason, that careful habit struck her as significant.

“I’m Willow,” she said. He already knew that, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“I heard. I’m Gabe Wilson.” He walked towards her and stopped inches away, close enough for her to imagine that the heat from his body was warming her skin. “That was some poem you read tonight.”

Oh. Yes. She swallowed, thinking of what she’d written and how it might sound. Somehow it seemed a lot more suggestive with him around than it had before. Graphic, even. An outright erotic invitation. Maybe he wanted to take her up on it.

She should be so lucky.

“I’m glad you liked it,” she said, figuring a neutral answer was probably best.

“It made me want to ask you a question,” he said.

Oh, Lord, Willow prayed, don’t let this man ask me if I believe free verse is real poetry, or how it can be a poem if it doesn’t rhyme.

“Go ahead,” she said.

“Do you just want words, or do you want a man who can back them up?”

Her prayer was answered. Along with her every erotic dream, maybe. Willow felt her pulse kick up and felt a low throb between her legs at the possibility. She had to lick suddenly dry lips before she could answer him. “I want a man who can back them up.”

In a burst of uncharacteristic daring, she lifted her hand and placed her palm against his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt and the work-hardened muscles underneath and went on, “Can you?”

He could. She was certain of that. The real question was, did he want to?

“Yes, ma’am.”

The words shouldn’t have sounded erotic. It should have sounded like he was talking to somebody’s grandmother. It didn’t. It sounded like a sexual promise made by a man who knew exactly how to deliver and was confident in his abilities.

It would be reckless to go off with a stranger for a night of hot sex. Getting to know him first or saying no would be the mature, responsible thing to do. Willow thought of the mature, responsible, safe choices that seemed to be strangling her life and her increasing desire to rebel against them, do something else, welled up.

Start with a small rebellion here? Say yes to this man who commanded her attention with his mere presence. Say yes to her own wants and desires and too-long unfulfilled needs.


She didn’t have time to get to know him, anyway.

“I’m leaving in two weeks,” Willow said, wanting to make sure he didn’t misunderstand what she wanted. They didn’t have a future but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have tonight.

“Then we’d better not waste time.” Gabe lifted a hand to cover hers, keeping it against his chest, and continued, “I believe the next question is, your place or mine?”

Willow thought about it. Where did she want to go? Her place? His?

She was curious about where he lived, what it would tell her about who he was. She might not get another chance to find out. He wasn’t promising her forever or even a string of dates. Even if he had been, there wasn’t time.

He was promising to fulfill her sexual desires. And there was a certain appeal to the idea of being in unfamiliar masculine surroundings while he told her what he was going to do to every inch of her body and then did it.

“Your place,” she said.

His hand was warm, strong. His heartbeat under her hand was steady and solid. She swayed a little closer to him.

“I’d better warn you,” Gabe told her, “I intend to take my time and be thorough.”

That throbbing sensation between her legs wasn’t alleviated by this warning in the least. She could feel herself growing damp and slick in anticipation of his touch. His hands. His mouth. All of him.

“I’ll consider myself warned,” Willow answered.

A group of people coming down the sidewalk made her realize they weren’t alone yet. Gabe put his free hand on her waist and guided her to the side, letting the group pass. His hand felt so good there, and at the same time she felt impatient for it to slide up her ribcage to cup one full, aching breast. Or to slide down her hip to cup her sex in the palm of his hand.

“You want me to drive?” Gabe asked.

He was making sure she considered her choices, Willow realized. Letting her choose where they’d go. How they’d get there. If she wanted to drive her car, he’d agree. He was being careful not to rush her or put her in a position that made her uncomfortable.

That made her feel confident in letting him do the driving. In more ways than one. He was letting her establish the boundaries, set the limits. That told her that she could put herself in his hands safely.

“Yes,” Willow said. “I want you to drive.”

Gabe turned her in the right direction, guiding her with light pressure on her waist. He released her hand and walked beside her, keeping his arm around her and his hand against her waist. He was as relaxed and natural as if he’d known her for years and it was the way they always walked.

She, on the other hand, was very aware that a stranger was touching her and leading her away. It didn’t alarm her. It excited her. Every step made her thighs brush together, making her very aware of the throbbing ache between them. That light pressure combined with anticipation made the simple act of walking with him arousing.

He stopped her beside a recent model Ford pickup. It had an extended cab, she noted. Four doors. Two seats. Big enough to accommodate anything that might come up. The long truck bed was empty and she wondered what it would be like to fill it with blankets and lay under the starry night back there with him.

Gabe opened the passenger door for her and helped her in. His hands supported her waist as she climbed up to the unaccustomed height, slid down her hips to guide her in, and then withdrew as he closed the door.

Willow wanted to tell him to keep touching her, but she’d been warned. He was going to take his time.

She sat back on the seat, drew the seatbelt over her shoulder, and buckled it out of habit. Although if they had an accident before she got to experience Gabe taking his time, the universe was a crueler place than she could imagine.

Satisfaction Guaranteed

Welcome to The Capture Agency, a fantasy dating service for dominant men who know what they like and how they like it, and women who can handle limitless pleasure. After being matched with a partner, the male will capture his date and make her a slave to passion. This exclusive service is for couples who aren’t afraid to push the limits, let go of their inhibitions and lose themselves in the fantasy.

Clients include Chase Hunter, the agency’s owner, who decides to break his cardinal rule against dating clients and capture a woman for the first time. Kane Woods, a man of superior size and strength who’s always had to reign in his desires–until now. And Gage Michael, who learns that his ex is using the service…and decides to capture her. Will these couples enjoy a hot romp between the sheets, or will they capture each other’s hearts?

Now available from St. Martin’s Press (Trade paperback original)
ISBN-13: 978-0312369453

  • Romance Junkies 5 Blue Ribbon Award
  • Fallen Angel Reviews Recommended Read

Charlene Teglia brings our fantasies of capture and bondage to the forefront with her latest release SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. These three interconnecting stories are told with heart, heat and a whole lot of hope…Ms. Teglia is a talented author who writes in a variety of romance genres and never leaves her readers wanting – expect maybe for her next book. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED is a prime example of what makes her one of my favorites – storylines that seduce both the mind and spirit.” – Romance Junkies

Hot, hot, hot! There is no other way to describe Satisfaction Guaranteed. Each of these stories has gorgeous, sexy men and women who aren’t afraid to ask for what they want…Charlene Teglia is a fresh voice in the erotica genre, and it will be a pleasure to read subsequent works by this author.” – Fallen Angel Reviews

Satisfaction Guaranteed is not to be missed!” – Joyfully Reviewed

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

Copyright 2007 Charlene Teglia
St. Martin’s Press, Feb. 19, 2008
All rights reserved

Hard Match
“I want to see you naked,” Chase said as he set her on her feet, her legs backed up against the four-poster bed. “I want to see all of that creamy skin bare for me and then I’m going to paint designs on your body with that whipped cream, every place I want to lick it off.”

“Works for me,” Rachel said, a smile spreading over her face.

“And while I’m doing that, pretty Rachel, I’m going to have you handcuffed to this bed.”

“Wow.” She gulped as she imagined herself on the bed, naked, helpless, wearing nothing but dots of whipped cream that Chase would swirl his tongue around and lap away until he tasted nothing but her. Her inner muscles tightened and she felt her sex swelling, a hot rush spreading through her as her body readied itself for him.

She wanted his mouth on her, his tongue teasing her nipples, her clit, plunging inside her…A shudder ran through her and Chase gave a low laugh at her telltale reaction.

“Like that idea, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” She licked her lips, her mouth feeling dry, heart racing as adrenaline shot through her.
He slapped her ass, the sharp sting taking her by surprise. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a faint sting followed by a rush of blood that puffed her vulva further. Now that was unexpected. Who knew a light spank could actually feel good and make her sex swell? “Get your pants off. The next time I spank you, I want to see a little rosy flush on your bare ass.”

Unbelievably, his words made her react with a liquid rush, her natural lubrication coating her and making her slick for him.

He slid a hand under her thin navy silk sweater, stroking her bare waist beneath it. “I gave you an order, Rachel. Pants off. Or do you need help undressing?”

“Wow.” She bunched her hands into his shirt and took a deep breath. “Give me a minute. I’m standing here with a hot man who has handcuffs and knows how to use them, telling me to get naked. The last time I got naked for anybody, I was having a physical.”

“Been a while?” Chase kissed the corner of her mouth, light, soft, then nipped at her lower lip with the edge of his teeth. The contrast made her shudder with want.

“It’s been so long,” she answered. “And it’s never been like this. I feel—” she broke off, searching for words.

“What do you feel, Rachel? Tell me.” Chase hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and slid them back and forth, caressing the soft skin of her belly.

“Everything. I want to rip my clothes off and rub myself against you. I want anything and everything with you. I feel crazy and needy.”

Rachel fumbled at her button and zipper, opening her pants and sliding them down her hips. The fabric pooled at her feet and she stepped out, kicking herself free. She grasped the bottom of her sweater and yanked it up over her head, pulling her arms out and tossing that, aside, too. Her satin panties clung damply between her legs and her bra felt too constricting. Her breasts felt swollen and achy and she was pretty sure nothing would give her relief but having his hands and his mouth on them.

“Very nice.” He looked down at her new bra, approval plain on his face. “Sexy and classy. Just like you.”

Rachel felt a blush burn her cheeks. “Not very classy. I went to an exclusive dating agency looking for kinky sex.”

“No.” Chase traced the outline of her bra, running his fingers over the curves of her breasts as they rose above the edge of the fabric cups. “You wanted something and you went looking for it. You had needs and you wanted them filled. That doesn’t lessen who you are, Rachel. You’re a beautiful, desirable, accomplished woman and you have every right to want a lover to give you pleasure.”

She shivered as his fingers sang to her nerve endings, making her feel very aware of her skin as a sensory organ. She wanted to feel his touch everywhere.

“I’m going to give you pleasure, Rachel. And you’re going to have to accept it, take it, enjoy it. You don’t have a choice. You’re my captive and you have to give in to me.”

The Perfect Stranger
Sabrina giggled and gripped his biceps with both hands. “Look at the muscles on you. What do you do for a living?”

“Can’t tell you. I’d have to kill you.” Kane’s face gave nothing away, his voice equally bland.

“Huh. Back to Bluebeard’s closet, are we?” Sabrina gave him a measuring look. “I can eliminate things I know you don’t do. You’re not in the military with that hair. You also don’t work in corporate America.”

“Why so curious?” He ran his hands up her back in a slow, massaging stroke that made her go limp. Sabrina collapsed on him again, enjoying the firm pressure along either side of her spinal column.

“I’m a woman. I’m curious.”

“I thought you wanted anonymous sex with a perfect stranger. No last names, no real information about each other, except for what we wanted in bed.” Kane worked his way up and down her back and Sabrina found it very difficult to focus on the conversation. Lassitude spread through her and her body felt heavy after the intensity of her physical response.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about you.” Sabrina nuzzled his chest and planted a random pattern of soft kisses on his bare skin. “Aren’t you curious about me? What I do for a living?”

“You’re a mafia hit woman on vacation. You’ve just finished a job over the border in Canada and you wanted some satisfaction after the action. Killing makes you want to commit a life-affirming act. Sex with a stranger means you don’t risk any complications, anybody getting too close or finding out too much about you. You used the agency as the most efficient means of locating a suitable partner for your exotic tastes.”

His voice was low and lazy as he rubbed her back. Sabrina shook with helpless giggles. When she could finally speak, she said, “Mafia hit woman? Killing makes me want to commit a life-affirming act? Why don’t you sound more concerned about being in bed with a dangerous woman?”

“Well, you’re only dangerous for a fee,” Kane explained. “Nobody’s hired you to hit me, and as long as I satisfy your base urges, I’m in no danger. You’re always law abiding when you’re not on the job. It’s one of the reasons you have no record and you’ve never been caught. You’re smart.”

“I like this explanation.” Sabrina nipped at his pectoral muscle with the sharp edge of her teeth. “I’m dangerous. Don’t mess with me. I know forty ways to kill a man, and a hundred ways to hide the body.”

“I’m bigger than you,” Kane pointed out. “And you’re not done using me to get your kinky thrills, so I’ve got no worries.”

“I like this fictional identity.” She kissed her way up to his throat and scooted higher on his body to kiss his chin. “Makes me feel sexy. You’re pretty good at this game. Maybe you should write a book.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kane rolled over with her, placing her underneath him again. His chest pressed against her nipples, making them harden in response. “Meanwhile, there’s another game I’m interested in.”

Ex Marks the Spot
Emma let the driver help her out of the limo that had been sent to bring her to the hotel where her captor waited. Everything had been planned by her mystery date, from the location of their rendezvous to how she would arrive and what she should wear. The clothes had been delivered the day before. When Emma had tried them on she’d been sure they wouldn’t fit or would look ridiculous.

Everything had fit. And she didn’t look laughable. She’d stared at herself in the mirror, wondering who this stranger was staring back at her.

A white silk corset that laced tightly in the back and pushed her breasts up, emphasizing her cleavage, was the first item she’d put on. Next came a wisp of a thong in matching white silk, and then sheer thigh high stockings designed to stay up without garters. White shoes with high heels that made her legs look longer and more elegant than she would have thought possible. And over it, a faux fur coat in dark mink that made her pale skin look luminescent and contrasted boldly with her strawberry blond hair.

She looked exotic. She looked, Emma realized, like a very expensive plaything bought for an evening of pleasure. Her round ass was bare against the coat’s silk lining, and the lingerie felt like very fragile protection. The generous curves of her breast, hips and bottom were not so much covered by the garments as put on display. The corset showed much more than cleavage, it left her dark rose aureoles exposed and her nipples barely concealed. And her sex was clearly visible through the thin fabric of the thong.

The man who had chosen this outfit for her to wear wanted to see her body gift-wrapped in a way that was more enticing than full nudity. The thong would provide no protection at all. He could stroke her covered sex with as little impediment as if she was bare to his touch, and it would be easy for him to press a silk-covered finger into her if he chose. He could touch the upper curves of her breasts, lift them free of the corset to see her nipples if he wanted to. He could have her walk around in the privacy of their hotel suite, swaying on high heels, while he watched her bare backside bounce and shimmy.

Given the amount of thought he’d put into the details she knew about, Emma could only wonder what else he had planned for her. That had kept her awake the night before, and inspired more than a few fantasies. Now she was about to find out. The final item she’d been instructed to wear was to be put on after she’d come to the reserved suite. She’d been given a silk blindfold and she was to tie it over her eyes before knocking.

A tremor ran through her at the thought of being seen in her barely dressed state by a man she couldn’t see at all. Although in a way, it was a relief. It made what she was doing less real, made him less real. A fantasy figure.

Emma checked in at the front desk, conscious all the while of her state of undress and certain that somebody suspected. Her nipples made stiff little points against the tight silk of her corset. She was so aware of her body and her almost-nudity that it seemed impossible that everybody around her wasn’t aware of it, too.

She felt herself blushing as she took the card key that would open the room where a man waited for her and walked as fast as she dared in her high heels to the elevator. She breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid closed, encapsulating her in privacy and solitude, safe from curious or lascivious stares.

When the doors opened on the penthouse floor, Emma tightened her grip on the card, walked to the door and slid the card into the reader slot. The door unlocked with an audible click. She glanced around to make sure she wouldn’t be seen, and tied the blindfold over her eyes. Then she knocked on the door before pushing it open.

Silence greeted her. Emma took a few steps in, feeling her way, then stopped. She’d come in far enough for the door to shut behind her and the sound it made when it closed almost made her jump. She hesitated, not sure if she should wait or come in, half afraid of tripping over something in the unfamiliar setting and in the unaccustomed height of her heels.

She felt a finger brush her cheek and drew in a sharp breath. Her heartbeat sped up and fine tremors ran through her. She felt hands move to the front of her coat and slowly undo the buttons that held it closed, one by one, all the way down. Then she heard the man move behind her. He gripped the coat and slid it off her shoulders, down her arms, then used it to trap her lower arms in the sleeves as he pulled her back against him.

A whisper breathed near her ear. “How lovely.”

A hand came to rest just below her throat, then slid lower to rest on the bare upper curves of her breasts. It was a possessive touch, one full of intent, and Emma swallowed hard as she realized that he could touch or take anything he wanted. And he would.

His hand moved, fingertips gliding along the outline of her corset, almost touching her nipples, then sliding lower to touch her through the silk.

“So hard,” he whispered as he rubbed his palm over one tight bud. Her breasts felt swollen inside the tight silk, and it seemed to enhance the sensation of his hand moving over her breast, stroking lightly over her nipples by turns. Then his hand moved slowly down to cup her belly and Emma almost shuddered. It felt so good to be held, to be touched. And at the same time, it was almost more than she could bear. Her body knew the touch of one man’s hands. Sex and Gage were inextricably entwined in her mind. Would she even know how to respond to another man?

“Wait,” Emma said through stiff lips.

The hand on her belly pressed in, gentle, steady pressure exerted until her body was nestled into his. “Second thoughts?” The low whisper was punctuated by a soft kiss in the hollow below her ear.

Second, third, fourth, fifth, they collided in her brain until she was almost dizzy. Or maybe that was from his breath tickling the nape of her neck, his hand rubbing slow circles over her belly, massaging her into relaxing in his hold. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Emma admitted. “I’ve never…that is, I’ve only…” her voice trailed off into uncertainty.

“You’ve never done anything like this.” A soft whisper, a kiss on the curve of her shoulder that slid over her skin like silk. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I might not be any good,” Emma said baldly. “I might disappoint you.”

“Let me worry about that.” His lips feathered along the line of her neck. “Tonight, you are my captive. I arranged for you to be delivered to me, blindfolded and gift-wrapped. And I have plans for you, lovely Emma. Plans for your pleasure and mine.”

Love and Rockets

Byline/Metaline – Use for meta information

Anna Leslie’s pyrotechnic creations might light up the skies on the Fourth of July, but her research and development skills are not lighting up her private nights. Her hard-working, good-girl approach to life isn’t doing much for her outside the bedroom, either. When an ultimatum from her boss pushes her out of her lab, Anna decides it’s time to let loose and start creating fireworks of a more personal nature.

Jay Whitman can’t believe the fiery bombshell in red is Frontier Fireworks’ resident genius. He’s convinced that her passion for rockets disguises a very earthy passion for the phallic, forget the symbol. To encourage her in a new line of research, he volunteers to give his body to science.

It’s an offer she can’t refuse, but Anna quickly realizes this is one experiment that can’t be controlled or predicted. They’re caught up in an attraction that defies all the laws of chemistry and physics, and she discovers that falling in love isn’t rocket science–it’s a whole lot more complicated.

2005 Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award winner, Best Erotic Novel

This is great erotic fiction! Jay and Anna are well-developed, sexy characters whose encounters and dialogue– whether at the office, in a canoe or in bed– are fresh, sexy and humorous.” – Romantic Times BookClub, 4.5 Stars

LOVE AND ROCKETS was a genuinely enjoyable, heartwarming and unforgettable book. I can hardly wait for more from the very funny and very talented Charlene Teglia.” – Romance Junkies, 4.5 Blue Ribbons

Charlene Teglia has written a contemporary romance that delivers love, romance, sensuality and humor. I can’t recommend Charlene Teglia’s Love and Rockets highly enough to readers who are looking for a feel good romance.” – Enchanted in Romance, 5 Unicorns

Love and Rockets is a work of art! This is one of those classic romance tales that I find myself drawn to again and again because the story is just too satisfying and dreamy to be read only once.” – eCataRomance Reviews, 4 Stars

Love and Rockets is such an excellent read. I can not wait for the next Charlene Teglia book. This is a definite keeper.” – Coffee Time Romance, 4 Cups

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

Copyright 2005 Charlene Teglia
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
All rights reserved

“Yes, what did you do, Anna?” A mocking, masculine voice chimed in, startling both women. The source of the voice leaned casually in the doorway in a pose that would have done GQ proud. It artfully displayed the gray wool suit to advantage, which in turn displayed a long, tall male body to advantage.

Unfair, really, Anna thought. That body had enough natural advantages without the model pose and stylish suit.

Her eyes traveled up to the dark eyes that set off the too-handsome face under jet black hair.

It was him.

Anna sighed inwardly. Just her luck. Then again, she’d just known he’d be back to try and get the last word. No doubt he’d spent the night thinking up new and better insults.

Well, maybe the best defense was a good offense, in this case. She loaded her verbal ammunition and fired the first shot.

“Ahh, yes, Mr. Whitman, the not-so-missing link. Why are you here?”

His glowing eyes warmed further, if that was possible. “I came to see if you missed me. Did you miss me, Anna?”

Anna stared back at him in silence.

Jane’s eyes silently begged her for details.

Casually, Jay unwrapped himself from the doorjamb and strolled over to take a look at Anna’s reading material. He perused the titles, then slanted a look at her.

“Honey, if you want to do a little research on the differences between men and women, I’ll be happy to volunteer as your star subject.” He winked and added naughtily, “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

Anna scowled at her unwanted visitor. “I don’t want to see yours.”

“Are you sure? That isn’t what you said last night when you blew in my ear,” Jay observed.

At that, Jane’s eyebrows shot up and vanished beneath her bangs.

Her look of amazement deepened when Jay turned his gleaming black eyes on her and informed her, “She’s crazy about me.”

Anna rammed his side with her elbow, since it was conveniently within reach. “That would make me just plain crazy.”

“She likes to play rough, too,” the irrepressible scoundrel continued in a voice that plainly said he liked it that way. “She’s dangerous. She already has me limping.”

“Is that what’s keeping you from leaving?” Anna asked, sweet as poison.

He turned back to her and shook his head in mock dismay.

“Come on, you can’t try to hide something like this. An office romance never stays a secret, and in our case it’s likely to make headlines. So be nice and give me a kiss.”

The outrageous flirt dared her with his wicked eyes while he offered her his sexy mouth. Anna stared back and refused to respond. Undeterred, he shrugged and said, “Okay, you can kiss me later. But don’t blame me if we get caught in the elevator.”

He poked through her books some more and pulled out the guide to becoming a bad girl.

He tutted and wagged a finger at her. “Now here’s something you don’t need. But if you do want to be bad, little girl, I’m ready, willing and able to help.” The innuendo in his voice was heavy enough to fell a bull moose.

Anna pushed him back and peered around him to catch her assistant’s eye. “Jane, would you mind excusing us for a minute?”

“Make that at least ten. Maybe fifteen.” Jay thoughtfully eyed the desktop, then the counter space as if considering the amorous possibilities. “Better yet, let’s go to a little hotel I know.” Anna glared. “We’re not going to a hotel.”

Jay looked deeply disappointed. “A real bad girl would. A really, really bad one would suggest it.”

“I’ll just go run those copies down the hall,” Jane offered. She scooped a sheaf of papers off the photocopier by her desk to corroborate the excuse. As she left, she mouthed, ‘I want to know everything’ behind Jay’s back. She disappeared and closed the door behind her.

“Nice girl,” Jay observed. “Thoughtful, too.”

Then he turned back to her and moved closer until he had Anna pinned in her chair.

“You didn’t answer me. Did you miss me?”

“If I say yes, will you go away?”

“I don’t know. Say ‘yes’,” Jay suggested as he pretended to consider the question. “I think I’d like to hear that, anyway. The way you said it last night.”


The clipped, sarcastic tone was a world away from a breathy, impassioned moan of sensual longing.

He gave her an impatient look. “No, that won’t work. You’ll have to kiss me, instead.”

His lips closed over hers with warm persuasion, and Anna felt a distinct tingling sensation that spread from her lips to a point low in her belly, leaving heat and a hunger for closer contact in its wake.

Soft, tempting nibbles tasted the full curve of her mouth in a slow, thorough exploration. With a low groan, Jay wrapped her long braid around his hand and used it to pull her closer. Then he stroked her lips with his tongue.

Anna partly opened her mouth to protest and he took advantage of the moment to swirl inside and taste her deeply.

So this was a French kiss, Anna thought in shock. He had his tongue in her mouth and was coaxing hers to play.

It was research, after all, she reminded herself.

He’d offered to be a subject himself.

She gave him her tongue.

Then she wasn’t really sure what happened, but somehow they were on her desk and he was laying half on top of her. His deep, wet kisses were getting hotter and hotter and her books fell to the floor with a crash.

The sound penetrated the sensual haze clouding Anna’s mind and startled her to awareness. This experiment had clearly gotten a little out of hand. She started to struggle under his weight. Dazed, Jay recognized her withdrawal and lifted his head. Impassioned black eyes bore into amethyst depths. “My God,” he grated in a hoarse whisper, “I knew you were good.”

Anna didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, she touched a tentative tongue to suddenly dry lips.

Jay groaned at the sight and took her mouth again in a thoroughly seductive kiss, penetrating her velvet lips with his tongue in slow, thrusting strokes.

Anna didn’t know what might have happened next if Jane hadn’t come back in and cleared her throat.

She looked up in shock at her amused assistant.

“Uh, maybe I should have made it twenty?” Jane asked meekly, trying to suppress the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Anna turned her blank, somewhat wild stare on Jay. What had happened? Had she actually been passionately necking with the mouthy man for fifteen minutes? On one level, Anna decided it was good to know that his mouth was good for something besides verbal skirmishes.

Jay stared just as blankly back at her. Then he helped her up.

“I’ll be back to pick you up for lunch,” he stated in a flat voice.

Then he kissed her again. Hard.

Miss Lonely Hearts

Byline/Metaline – Use for meta information

Siren’s Series Prequel

Love, larceny and lies.

When is a love letter not a love letter? When it’s mail fraud. Or in this case, female fraud.

Jason Alexander is one angry Alaskan, and he’s out to get his woman; the letter-writing Lolita who’s running the Miss Lonely Hearts con game in his bailiwick. She’s taking lonely Alaskans for a roller-coaster ride and cashing in on love. When she hits his adopted home, the patrons of his bar The Last Resort, the retired gambler takes it personally and goes out for justice.

Cassandra Adams has just been dumped by ex-fiancé number two. She’s fed up with Romance Roulette and ready to trade her rosy daydreams for hardheaded practicality. The logical solution? She’s going to search the classifieds for the mail-order marrying man she wants.

She thinks she’s found him in Jason, alias Alex Sanders. He thinks he’s hooked Miss Lonely Hearts. And the regulars at The Last Resort think it’s high time Jason got married, so they’re not about to clarify matters when they discover his mistake.

Together Jason and Cassandra will have to cut their way through the tangle of love, larceny and lies to unmask Miss Lonely Hearts and find a happy ending that’s a sure bet.

Place awards here.

I have yet to read a story by Charlene Teglia that I do not love, and this author has done it again. With her own special blend of humor and sex appeal, she has delivered a delightful little romance guaranteed to warm even the coldest of nights – whether you live in Alaska or not!” – CK2S Kwips and Kritiques

Jason and Cassandra are great characters. They are easy to relate to and root for. The chemistry between the two is hot! The by-play between the two was electric and the internal dialog was fascinating and fun to read. I hope that Ms. Teglia brings us back to this small Alaskan town with more of their stories. This is a book I would definitely recommend to a friend looking for quick pick-me-up read.” – Fallen Angel Reviews

I really enjoyed this story. The author does not overload it with extra characters and makes each and every one of the quirky denizens of The Last Resort special, even the interchangeable and silent Lawrence twins…This is a warm and funny story that I will definitely read again and if we gave out half cups this would get 4 ½ cups for sure.” – Coffee Time Romance

Here is an author who knows how to bring on the sweet romance, laughter, and the wonders of love! Charlene Teglia always leaves me satisfied and Miss Lonely Hearts was no different.” – The Romance Studio

Miss Lonely Hearts is a delightful story of crossed signals with a boatload of amusing misconceptions. These two heat up the bedroom (and anywhere else that’s handy) and author Charlene Teglia has a great knack for making their instantaneous intense sexual connection seem very believable. I found the non-stop banter between these two quirky characters very enjoyable…a fun and frisky read. – TwoLips Reviews

The characters are charming, the setting is beautiful and the plot flows smoothly with plenty of laugh out loud captivating scenes to ensure you finish reading this book in one sitting. While the beginning of Cass and Jason’s relationship seems off to a rocky start, I was completely won over by Jason’s friends who were taken in by the real MISS LONELY HEARTS and once it’s revealed who had pulled the scam . . . well let’s just say I’m really hoping there will be a story that divulges what happens next because I’m dying of curiosity…MISS LONELY HEARTS is a truly delicious tale.” – Romance Junkies

This is a very sweet story, I fell in love with the characters…There was a steam and chemistry between them that made you want this marriage to work. The sex scenes were very hot, and, I thought, very well written. This is the first book I’ve read by Charlene Teglia, but it will not be the last. She spun a tale full of romance and humor, which I loved.” – Enchanting Reviews

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

Copyright 2007 Charlene Teglia Samhain Publishing All rights reserved

“Thank you for getting us out of there. I didn’t want to have the first screaming fight of our marriage in front of all those witnesses,” Cass said.

He set his glass down and stared at her. “Excuse me?”

She stared right back at him. “When were you going to tell me?”

He leaned forward and placed his hands on her shoulders in a firm grip, as if he was worried that she’d bolt. Ha. She wasn’t going anywhere until they had this out. And then, well, they’d see.

“I was going to tell you, but I thought it might be best to have that conversation in private. For obvious reasons. And I thought I should make you some coffee first, in case the punch was still affecting your judgment.” He studied her face, not at all discomfited by her deduction but with a lot of interest. “What gave it away?”

“I read a lot of nonfiction,” she said.

“That would explain why the grout article had you so fascinated. You wanted some nice calm facts to fix your mind on during the trip instead of worrying about marrying a mystery man.”

Ignoring him, she went on, “Last year I read a book called Blink. It’s about how most of the thinking we do we never know we do. Little cues that we process and store away and aren’t consciously aware of. And we use this information we don’t know we have to make all sorts of decisions.”

“Sounds right.”

“There were a lot of little cues and I started to think about them.” Cass started to tick them off, one by one.

“You came to meet me in Seattle and you talked to me like you knew me. You were trying to get a rise out of me, but you were too accurate with your shots. Sam and Mona and everybody else fell all over themselves to make this happen fast, before I could back out, and they were all happy for you. Not for somebody who wasn’t there. You. They looked at us together like they approved, and like they had something to do with it. You kissed me like you had a right to and I kissed you back the same way.”

She realized as she said it she was now staring at his mouth. She jerked her attention away from it before it distracted her and focused on his eyes again. “That was the biggest clue, I think. That wasn’t a sneaking around kind of kiss. That and the way you were always touching me was like some kind of body language branding that said my woman. So why didn’t you just tell me it was you?”

Cass really tried not to, but she ended on a near-scream. Maybe she needed to count to ten once more. Or maybe to one hundred. She really didn’t want to start throwing things at him when she might regret it later.

“You didn’t seem very impressed with me in person, for starters,” Jason pointed out.

“I’m less impressed that you made up Alex. What was behind that?”

He started to answer, stopped and shook his head. “You want answers. You’re entitled to them. And I will give them to you. But first, I want to make you an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

He took both of her arms, tracing his hands along her skin, up to her shoulders. “Do you feel that?”

She started to laugh in spite of herself. “Is that a joke? I’m out of practice but I’m not dumb.”

Jason smiled at her. “I never thought you were.” Then his face went serious. “We get one chance at creating the memory of our wedding night. I don’t want to look back on tonight and remember how much I wanted to be with you and instead I spent the night on the couch. Tomorrow I will tell you anything you want to know. I will answer every question. I will explain the picture, everything. Tonight, I want you.”

The hell of it was, she wanted him, too. And even though she knew he’d lied to her, she trusted him. It was beyond dumb, but there was probably some subliminal cue that made her believe she could trust him.

Of course, it could also be the way he was touching her and the dud year of sex she suddenly wanted to make up for. If there ever was a man who could make up for a dud year of sex, it was the one in front of her.

Figuring action spoke louder and words had only gotten them in trouble so far anyway, Cass stripped off her shirt, tossed it on the bar, and followed it with her bra before she lost her nerve.

“That looks like yes.” Jason pulled her up onto the bar and she cooperated by climbing up to meet him. He drew her forward, facing him. Her legs fell to either side of his body as he drew her closer, until she was balanced on the edge of the bar with him standing between her legs.

She felt him reach for something she couldn’t see and then he slid a brightly decorated gift bag across the bar top until it touched her hip. “Mona gave us a present,” he said. “I’m guessing there will be condoms in here.”

Cass tipped the bag over and let the contents spill free.

There were condoms. In a range of flavors. Gel that heated when applied to skin. Two kinds of lubricant, one non-vaginal. A Bad Boy vibrator. Handcuffs. A pink flogger. Three sort-of-jeweled clips with dangling beads that weren’t earrings and that Cass had no idea what to do with but Jason probably did.

No matter what else happened after tonight, one thing was clear. Her year of dud sex was officially over.

“Dear God.”

She caught Jason’s expression of horror as he stared at the items scattered on the bar top beside her and giggled. “I guess that means you don’t want to take turns with the little whip?”

“I think we can skip that one, yes.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She picked it up and flicked it experimentally. “You’ve been bad. Lying to me. Maybe you should be spanked.”

Jason plucked it out of her grasp and hid it underneath the bar. “Maybe you shouldn’t mix alcohol with bondage and discipline.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to play with these, either?” Cass scooped up the handcuffs and dangled them in front of him.

“Maybe.” He took them from her and turned them in his hands, examining them. “Hmm. They don’t look dangerous.” Jason snapped one over her wrist, tugged it behind her back, and cuffed her other hand. “How does that feel?”

Cass looked down at herself. She was naked from the top down, seated on a bar, her hands cuffed behind her back, with a man who was a virtual stranger standing between her open thighs. “Pretty damn kinky.”

“Anything else?”

She licked her lips, suddenly aware of her nipples hardening into two tight buds, her sex growing swollen and slick, and waves of heat rippling through her body. “Hot.”

Jason’s eyes went darker. “I meant, did they pinch or feel uncomfortable. But if they make you hot, we’ll keep them.”

Adventure Lover

Jill Martin loves adventure—as long as it comes between the covers of a book. Preferably one with a bare-chested hero on the front. But to reinvent their flagging business she has to reinvent herself into the kind of heroine who will brave the unknown. Her assignment: a week-long backpacking trip through the Olympic High Divide.

Soon she’s forced to cope with bears, blisters, and a basic instinct to get horizontal with her vertical guide. Ryan Lowe’s as hard as the ground they sleep on and his heart’s as icy as the glaciers that surround them, but since she only wants his body that shouldn’t be a problem.

Just when she thinks she’s figured out how to cope with both Ryan and Mother Nature, they run into geocachers using the remote location to stash stolen loot. Her wilderness adventure exposes her to physical risks she never imagined, but it’s Ryan that puts her adrenaline in overdrive and leads her to the biggest risk of all…making it last when the trip is over.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this page.

“I have blisters on my feet,” Jill said the next morning, staring at the evidence of yesterday’s unaccustomed activity.“Want me to put Band-Aids on your owies?”Part of her wanted to say yes and then sit back to let him do just that. But the woman she was reinventing herself as would get her own first aid kit and deal with the problem like a competent outdoorswoman, so Jill said, “No, thanks,” and pulled out the small kit she’d packed.

She smeared on ointment, then applied Band-Aids, and covered them with a clean pair of wool socks. She wiggled her feet inside the socks, testing. The thick knit didn’t rub on anything.

“Didn’t you break those boots in before you came out here?” Ryan asked.

“No.” And she’d pay for that today. But she wouldn’t make that mistake again. She’d caution her clients about it too. Jill finished dressing, and started in surprise when Ryan’s hands closed on her waist.

“Hey.” He turned her around to face him. His dark eyes met hers. “Are you upset about last night?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? Consenting adults. Yadda yadda.” She gave him her best bland expression and hoped she looked unmoved. Underneath it, she was all too aware that she was far from unmoved. She’d been dynamited and blown across the alpine meadows, where bits of her were still scattered and waiting for her to collect them into some kind of cohesive whole again.

“I shouldn’t have let things go so far.”

“What was too far?” Jill looked back at him, trying for the brazen look she’d been able to pull off yesterday, but today it wasn’t just her feet that felt raw. “The fact that we had sex? Or the fact that it wasn’t the vanilla variety?”

A hint of a scowl crept into his expression. “You were all in favor of kink last night.”

“Ah. So it’s the non-vanilla.” Jill patted his chest. “It was an experience I’ll never forget.” There was a little too much truth in that statement, so she pulled away and turned her back to him. Ostensibly so she could put away her first-aid supplies.

“Jill. Dammit, look at me.” Ryan put his hand on her shoulder, turning her.

“What do you want, Ryan?” Fury bubbled up inside her. He’d made her want, damn him. She’d been fine until she met him. She would have continued to be satisfied with undemanding, uncomplicated sex, but that was all over now, because now she knew what she’d been missing.

It was like having good dark chocolate. One taste, and you were ruined for cheap imitations forever. She could buy dark chocolate anywhere, but Ryan was a taste she couldn’t indulge so easily.
He didn’t flinch from her reaction. “I want to know that you’re okay.”

“Oh.” She deflated like a helium balloon left in the sun all day. “Right. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t sound fine. And you were out of bed before I woke up this morning.”

Jill blinked, amazed that he’d mention that. “I got up because I woke up wrapped around you like ivy on brick. If I’d stayed there one more minute, I wouldn’t have stopped at cuddling. Since it’s going to take half the day to get to our next site and I am not the world’s greatest hiker, I thought that would be bad. So I got out of bed.”

“I didn’t mind having you wrapped around me like ivy on brick.” Ryan tugged her toward him. “I don’t mind getting a late start, either.”

“Oh?” Jill let herself be urged closer. She was already ruined for lesser experiences, what could it hurt to go back for another taste of him?

A series of sounds outside the tent made her freeze. “What’s that?”

Ryan cocked his head, listening. “We might have some visiting bears.”

“Bears!” It was a scream of a whisper. Jill would have screamed for real, but she was too afraid of instigating an animal attack by making the wrong kind of noise.

“It could be elk.”

If he’d meant that to be reassuring, it wasn’t working. She’d read about elk in rut attacking people. Jill huddled closer to him. “What do they want?”

“They live here,” Ryan pointed out. “They don’t want us. Wild animals avoid people, as a rule. We didn’t leave anything out that would attract bears. You didn’t pack any food items that weren’t sealed or canned, right?”

“Right.” She’d followed his instructions to the letter, as if her life depended on getting it right. She’d figured it probably did.

“Then nothing to worry about. We hang tight, and they wander off.”

She let out a thread of a whimper. It was unworthy of the woman she was trying to become, but she couldn’t change everything all at once.

Ryan folded her close, and she burrowed into him as if he could keep her safe. “This sucks,” she whispered. “If I get eaten by a bear, I want a refund.”

His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I don’t know how you expect to claim one under those circumstances.”

So she was irrational. Apparently that was the new her. She’d gone from placid and serene and predictable to dizzying peaks and drops, a roller coaster of emotion.