Read An Excerpt

by Kathy Lyons

Genre: Current Series Imprints, Entangled Brazen, Series

Read Book Review

Our heroine Megan is having her second erotic dream of a mysterious someone (could be the CEO but I’m not telling!)  And sorry, decency rules made me cut it before it got really hot. But at least you get the humor part!


She was walking through a park at night. She hadn’t a clue where she was going and why it was so urgent, but she was looking for something, she thought, and it was really important. Unfortunately, the park was creepy dark and the trees made all those menacing sounds that screamed “slasher flick.”

She shivered, clutching her purse tight. In it, she had her rent money—in cash, of course, because this was clearly a horror film and… She looked down at a lock of hair curling over her too-massive boobs. It was a glowing kind of blond and… Oh hell. She was the dumb blonde in a horror movie. Lord, she’d rather go back to her train dream, but no such luck. She was stuck in a park about to be sliced by a maniac.

She tried to call out. She tried to scream at Freddie or Chuckie or whomever the monster was to hurry up and get this over with. But she couldn't. She was too busy scanning beneath the bushes for whatever it was that she'd lost. Moron. Really, what could be that important? She was about to get eaten by the Zombie Apocalypse.

She heard something — a whimper or a groan — and she immediately dropped down to her knees. Great, a non-defensible position.

There it was! A shiver of dark chestnut amid the shadows. A flash of white. Teeth? But it was exactly what she'd been looking for. She started to wiggle lower, reaching under the brush to get it.

Hurry! Hurry! Her heart started beating hard, sweat made her hands slick, and she felt the prick of the thorn bush as it ripped into her skin.

Then she heard it. Or rather not it, but a lack of sound, a muffling of the wind and the trees and the crackle of dead branches. Dream Megan didn't hear it. Of course not. But Real Megan was an expert on horror movies, and she knew that any lack of sound was deadly.

Wake up! Wake up!

No such luck. She was too busy shaking her butt as she wriggled her way half underneath the bush. What the hell was so important that she had to climb under a bush in the middle of a horror film? And what was worse, whatever it was had no interest in being found!

Finally, she gave up. She just huffed out a breath and slithered backward out from under the bush. Her clothing tore, of course, and her crop top now hung by bare threads as she sat back on her heels and glared at the shrubbery.

That's when Dream Megan knew something was off. Her back prickled and she abruptly noticed how quiet it had gotten. She wanted to turn around but was too afraid.

Finally, a smart move. The dumb blonde never died until she turned and looked at the horror that was behind her. Except, of course, she couldn't not look. She had to know what was creeping up so stealthily.

With her lower lip caught sexily in her teeth, she slowly twisted. She saw dead leaves, a shadowed walkway, and…


OMG, not just a slasher flick, but a classic slasher flick of hugely stupid proportions. She was going to die by the Blob.

It rose up before her, all black oil, slick and smelly. Megan gagged and stumbled sideways, and the Blob matched her movements, oozing ever closer as she did. She backed away, and it came at her, surprisingly fast and in vaguely human proportions. Dream Megan was terrified now. She looked at the slowly dissolving bits of debris inside the dark mass. Sticks, leaves, and…and was that a skeleton of a squirrel? Ew!

She dashed sideways, but the thing followed, again too fast to be real. And then she was trapped, caught against a wall and a stand of thick bushes. She was breathing hard, staring at her doom. She hadn't even had the presence of mind to scream yet. But weirdly, Megan understood that. The terror had frozen her throat closed, and she found it hard to breathe much less scream.

Then it happened. She was engulfed in the suffocating ooze of the Blob. She screamed, loud and long, but no one was there. Tiny needles of pain ate into her skin. Death by a zillion little bites.

Then suddenly a wash of cold cut through the agony. Water. Sprayed from a hose, hard enough to wash away the filth.

She looked up, both turning her whole body to the cleansing spray and scrunching her face up against the hit of it.

"Stay still!" a male voice bellowed.

"Nowhere to go!" she shot back, though it came out more as garble, blurble, gah.

Then it was done. The horrible stuff was gone, though the memory of it was still thick and disgusting in her mind. She was standing there dripping wet as the last threads of her clothes trembled and fell away.

She was naked? The Blob had eaten her clothes?

She gasped and wrapped her arms around herself, but her hero was there before her. He whipped his cape protectively about her shoulders. "Are you in pain?" he asked, his voice a soothing murmur of masculine strength.

"J-j-just cold," she stammered.

"Of course," he said as he rubbed her arms on top of his cloak. "You're soaking wet."

"W-what was that stuff?"



"It's an alien thing on a deserted planet that was a really dumb villain in the early lame days of ST: The Next Generation. Episode title…um…Skin of Evil, I think."


She saw him smile, his chiseled jaw softening beneath his mask. "Isn't important. The fact is, you're safe now. What was so important that you had to risk your life to get?"

"I—I don't…" She was about to say she didn't know, but at that very moment, she felt a wet nose and a pink tongue rasp licks up her calf. "Elmo!" she cried as she suddenly knelt down.


She nodded as she scooped up the puppy she'd never had. It was all wriggling tail and happy puppy kisses as she held it protectively in her arms. But of course, she couldn't both hold the dog and the cape, so the fabric slipped open.

Her masked man looked at her. His jaw tightened and his bare chest rippled above the band of his tights. She frowned at him. "What are you wearing?" she asked. Then she cursed herself. "I mean, who are you?"

He glanced down at himself, apparently startled by his own super-hero attire. Of course, that gave her a nice moment to look at his sculpted body. Not an inch of fat over his ripped abs and corded thighs. 

"I—I need to get home," she said.

He nodded as he stepped protectively close. "I’ll shield you from harm."

She tried not to grin. The thing was, even though Real Megan was rolling her eyes at how campy ridiculous this dream was, the blonde her was soaking in every luscious moment. She could feel the happy wriggling puppy against her skin, knew the heavy warmth of his cape, and most of all, sensed his big hands so close, so protective as they walked through the still creepy park.

They made it to her apartment quickly. Things attacked them, of course. All the things she'd mentioned before: Freddie, Chuckie, and a horde of zombies. He fought them off with quick, efficient movements. Each defense was unusual and damned smart. Monsters dissolved as quickly as they appeared.

Then they were in her apartment. Elmo wriggled out of her arms to curl up onto the couch near a baby blanket. No child as far as she could tell, just the soft fabric mound and a snoozing puppy. Which meant suddenly it was just the two of them.

"Thank you," she whispered, turning to look at him. Would he kiss her again? God, she hoped so.

"My pleasure," he answered. Then he just stood there looking at her.

She waited, hoping. Would he? She was just about to take matters into her own hands when he released an embarrassed cough.

"Um, sorry," he mumbled. "But I, uh, I need my cape back."

"What? Oh." Of course. She slowly opened her hands, letting the cloak slip off her shoulders. Then she swung it wide, offering it to him even as her body was revealed in all its blonde, perky glory. No sense in wasting all that boobalishiousness. Except, she suddenly wasn’t Ms. Perky Blond. Nope, it was just her. Brunette Megan in all her normal sized glory.

Oddly, that seemed to make him suddenly into her. With a groan of hunger, he closed the distance between them. Those great big hands of his slipped onto her body, one wrapping around her lower back to pull her tight. The other slipped into her hair, angling her head to the perfect degree.

A kiss. Finally!

Deep. Penetrating. Masterful. She melted into his possession, loving the way his tongue plunged into her mouth. Her body was pressed against every hot inch of his sculpted form. God, she loved that Spandex because his thick, hot bulge was exquisitely outlined and pressing hard against her hip.