Welcome to Dust is the first of an erotic two-part serial and ends with a cliffhanger.
Dust, a town on the edge of nowhere, has a lot going on.
Eve Storm tends bar at the Emerald Saloon and yearns to increase her savings to go home back East. The fly in her ointment is the gorgeous cowboy who comes in all the time.
Dust, the Emerald Saloon, and its denizens are the centerpieces in this erotic historical western two-part serial about a down and out town, train robbers, female saloon owners and bartenders, and hunky lawmen. Welcome to Dust is just the beginning…
"Bran, you're the bane of my existence. Why would I ever sleep with you?"
"Because I'm a good looking cowboy? I smell good." He lifted his arm to indicate cleanliness. "I shaved." He fingered his chin then frowned at what was probably some missed bristles. "I shined my boots." Lifting a foot, he pointed to his toes.
"Your hat is dirty."
"Yeah, well— " He gave her a big grin. "Would you want a perfect me?"
"I don't want you any which way, cowpoke."
"Well, the night is young, sweetheart. I'll grow on you."
"More like wear on me." Hiding a smirk, she left him to draw a brew for another cowboy down the bar. Bran really was a good looking fella, towering over her by almost a foot and outweighing her by quite a bit. He teased her in such a funny and unthreatening way, and his smile was killer. She could do worse in the man department, but she was in actuality a virgin and not in the market for any man let alone a cowboy out here.
Francie had hired her because she said Eve was pretty and knew how to draw a beer. It certainly was a fairly easy job. Eve had stockpiled her wages and good tips to pay for her trip out of this town and a peaceful life back east. Her dream was to teach at a girl's boarding school just like the wonderful women who'd taught her.
She almost had enough money. Just a couple more months and she'd be on her way leaving the Emerald, Dust, and Bran Prosper in her dust.
Brandon Prosper narrowed his gaze while watching Evie tend to her customers. Damn, she's beautiful. He'd wanted her from the moment he'd seen her two months ago. The first thing about her he'd noticed wasn't her great figure showcased in swanky silk and satin low cut gowns, but the first thing was her amazingly vivid red hair. Sometimes she wore it up in fancy, big loopy curls, sometimes she simply wore it down to frame her face and cover her shoulders like a shawl. But he actually loved it best when she put the long, thick mane up in a high pony tail to swish back and forth when she turned her head. He never knew how she'd look when he came into town, but he knew he'd love it.
Book 2 with saloon owner Francine Michaels and Sheriff Sam Dash
Francie's Emerald is the conclusion of this short, sexy serial about two couples
who find love in Dust, the town that looks exactly like its name.
Francine Michaels' most precious possession is the Emerald Saloon. She worked long and hard to make it the most glamorous, beautiful place in the west—even though the town of Dust might be the worst place in the west. Damn! If the railroad had only built through Dust… Well, she'd still make the Emerald a success.
Sheriff Sam Dash loves Francie with all his heart. He has high hopes that someday she'll love him back. As soon as she grows to trust him.
Eve Storm is kidnapped again, and Sam and Francie join Brandon Prosper and a posse to rescue her.
"God, Sam, you're so hot!" Francie tightened her hand around his cock. Smooth skin over a rod as hard as iron track laid by the fucking railroad. She lowered her head, taking his large red-flushed penis into her mouth.
"Jesus, baby. Yes!"
Stroking the length of him with her tongue, she licked and sucked, loving Sam's groans and hip thrusts. Her saliva dribbled down to his root making it easier to slide her palm up to meet her lips. He was much too long to entirely fit in her mouth and so wide her fingers couldn't touch all the way around.
His hands cupped her head, sliding through her hair, guiding her, urging her up and down—now whispering, now murmuring love words—murmuring encouragement. All she wanted to do was please him. He pleased her in so many ways, and she loved him for it.
Increasing suction, she gave him her whole heart. Some grunting from Sam and soon his hot salty seed flooded her mouth. She swallowed as fast as she could.
"Oh damn. That's good. I love you, baby."
Gliding her mouth off his cock, she brushed a knuckle over her lips to catch an errant drop, leaned her cheek against his flat belly, and pressed tender kisses on him. With gentle hands, he dragged her up along his body to lie right on top of him. She loved the feel of his hot, hard skin through the silk of the chemise she still wore. He apparently did too. He rubbed firm fingers up and down her back until she felt his big palms cover her bottom.
"You feel great, Francie. Your skin is so soft." He squeezed.
She squirmed against him.
"Stop that! I'm spent."
"Mm. I'm glad," she replied. A bit disappointed because he was a virile sexual man usually, but he'd had a rough couple of days what with rescuing Eve from certain gang rape by Rogers and his henchmen. He deserved what she'd just done to him. All of a sudden, she found herself flat on her back with a glorious hunk of six and a half feet of maleness braced on his elbows above her. She was tall enough as it was, but he towered over her.
"You're glad I'm spent? You think we're done?" His grin was pure devilment, his eyes sparkling with fire.
"I know you and Bran rode hard to save Evie." Her breath snagged at the promise in his gaze of more—more sex.
"And I intend to continue riding, sweetheart."
He kissed her, hard and determined, his tongue slowly sliding into her mouth, taking up all the room. His fingers cupped her face, his thumbs smoothing over her cheeks. Then he re-angled his head and dove in again, less hard, more delicious, with soft wet kisses that worshipped her mouth.
"Baby, you think you're so smart," he crooned between kisses. "Think you know me. I'm never too tired for you. All I want is you." He slid his hands to her shoulders and his lips to her neck. Falling to her side, he lifted one hand to caress her over the silky material, brushing proprietarily but gently from breasts to hips.