BOX SET
All delicious variations of steam and just what you need to make your holidays bright… and romantic!
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Get your steamy hot romance deals here!
by Excite Steam
by Excite Steam
Shane Locksley, billionaire owner of LoxTek, is the most arrogant, irritating, demanding jerk in all of Silicon Valley. A total bosshole. When he calls me into his office on the day of the Christmas party to lecture me on workplace equality, somehow I end up at the top of his Naughty List.
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by Excite Steam
by Excite Steam
by Excite Steam
What’s the difference between Prince Nicholas and a prize winning cucumber? One is long, hard and mostly organic, the other’s a vegetable.
Take one handsome, playboy prince, add a splash of feisty American reporter, and mix until their clothes come off.
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The crowd parts for two men coming up the lawn from the beach. Hollywood hot, both of them, but it’s the one wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts that hang off his hips just low enough to tease the ‘V’ below his perfect row of washboard abs who draws me in. Just out of the water, Prince Nicholas’s dark, curly hair is slicked back, and his skin actually glistens. He beams at the crowd with a perfect smile full of indecent promises. For a moment, his dark eyes fall on me, and the whole party fades. Even the heavy bass becomes a faint rumble as our connection passes in slow motion.
Holy crap.
The pictures on my phone didn’t do him justice. Not even close. You could drown in those eyes.
He winks, and then the weight of his gaze moves on. With confident strides, he approaches the Olympic height diving tower and grips the ladder. We watch slack-jawed as he climbs, and we’re not the only ones. Most of the female guests, and quite a few of the men, are following him just as intently as we are.
High above, he looks small as he takes a step forward and leaps gracefully into the air. He twists his athletic body and flips gracefully, straightening just in time to pierce the water’s surface like an arrow. It’s beautiful, a masterpiece in motion. The crowd draws a collective breath the moment his body disappears, leaving only a tiny ripple behind.
“What a time to not have my camera,” Mona says with a sigh I feel deep in my soul.
He bursts from the surface at the moment the DJ drops the beat, with timing so perfect it seems planned. It’s like we wandered onto a movie set. Prince Nicholas shakes his head, droplets spraying out in a fan around him as he treads water and looks around at his captivated audience.
“Is everyone having a good time?” he asks in a charming accent, conjuring up thoughts of exotic liquors and tapas on the terrace during warm summer nights. Not that I have any experience to back any of that up, but I’ve been to Olive Garden and I watch TV.
The crowd cheers, and his face lights up with the kind of smile that walks right up to you, cleverly slips off your clothes and then drags you to bed before you even realize what happened. I can’t speak for Mona, but for the first time in my life, I understand why women sometimes throw their bras and panties at sexy men.
With a laugh, he sets a course for the poolside, cutting through the water with powerful strokes. He plants his hands on the edge of the pool and pulls himself up with ease. Water slides down his body in rivulets, tracing the dips and planes of his muscles like soft, teasing fingers. The life of a drop of water is fleeting, but just now, I’d be tempted to switch places.
Mona grabs my arm and yanks me to the side. “Close your mouth. You’re drooling. We’re blending in, not joining his fan club.”
I nod and do my best to act relaxed and pretend I’m just another guest. “Right. Interview. I’m on it.”
“Uh huh.”
I try not to stare, but still keep the prince in my peripheral vision. He’s pretty friendly with the guests, casually stopping to chat and laugh as he makes his way around the pool. If I wasn’t used to looking for details, I might not have noticed how practiced he is. He’s so smooth, spending only enough time with any one person to seem friendly without getting trapped or being dismissive. Even looking like the world’s biggest party boy, you can see the diplomat hiding under the surface. This is a man who would be easy to dismiss, but I bet there’s more to him than just a pretty face.
Each stop brings him closer. Without being too obvious about it, I hope, I position myself in line with his path and it pays off. A warm hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to find rich, brown eyes staring straight into my own. Even though I was expecting it, my brain still short-circuits.
“H—Hi,” I squeak.
by Excite Steam
On this deep space pleasure cruise, love is in the recycled air.
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Her Viewchip ( VC ) comm pinged inside her head, alerting her to an incoming message: < Sunny, where are you? You’re late.>
Sunny moaned, then froze as the Argosian stirred. < Wrong number,> she told her assistant, Elanie, over the comm in her mind.
< Do not.> Elanie was evidently in no mood. < I’ve laid an outfit out for you on your empty, unslept-in bed. We have a staff meeting to welcome the new Languages and C ustoms expert in twenty minutes. Please get your ass to your pod directly.>
< I don’t appreciate your tone, Elanie. I am very hungover.>
< Really? Because you sound like you’re still drunk. And I did say ‘ please.’>
Gingerly, Sunny scooted back toward the headboard of the Argosian’s bed and sat up. Elanie wasn’t wrong. She was still drunk. Argosian ripple didn’t take any prisoners. < What is it that you want?> Sunny asked.
Elanie’s sigh gusted between Sunny’s ears. < Please, for the love of all the stars in all the skies, bid farewell to whatever disaster you’ve wrought upon yourself and make your way to your pod. You do not want to miss this meeting.>
< Roger that.> Sunny pinched the purple skin of the arm squishing her belly. “Ahem, darling? Wakey, wakey.”
A deep and resonant rumbling erupted from the enormous man whose bed, she presumed, she was currently trying to escape.
“My sentiments precisely,” she muttered. “Would you be so kind as to remove your arm from my waist? I’m rather late.” She was also rather worried she might break in two when she tried to stand up if what she feared happened last night actually had.
The Argosian rolled onto his back, taking his arm with him.
Air flooded her lungs. “Much better.” She slid off the bed. “I’ll just find my clothes and—”
“You will not find them,” he grumbled, propping his head on an elbow and smirking sleepily at her. Golden tattoos embellished his expansive chest and firm stomach: a scythe, harvest moons glowing over a field of grain, exquisitely detailed seeds—images meant to pay tribute to the agricultural life that drove his planet’s economy.
“I can see that. Happen to know where they are?”
“You wore no clothes when I found you.” His smirk stretched into a full-fledged grin.
Sunny blinked. “I’m sorry? Can you repeat that?” She enjoyed a wild night here and there, but she had never once in her entire sordid career lost her clothes. Well, unless she counted her shoe, but she’d given that away.
Scratching his chest between his stunning pectorals, he said, “Argos makes a strong drink. Do not feel ashamed.”
“Did we…? Did I…?” Sunny gulped.
He shook his head, rueful. “We did not join. We were not worthy of each other.”
A profound relief buckled her knees. Worthy, on Argos— where males tended to outweigh females by one hundred kilos or more—referred to the way body parts might or might not fit together between two partners. Sunny offered a silent prayer of thanks to the sweet gods of fermentation who had blessed her with complete amnesia of the evaluation of said worth.
“Apologies, dear man.” She clicked her tongue. “Anatomy strikes again, eh?” Snatching his yellow coveralls —the preferred outfit for all Argosians—from the bed, she wrapped them around her body like a robe.
“No. Those are mine.” His deep voice reverberated through her ribcage.
“Yes, well, I can’t very well walk back to my pod in the nude, can I? I’m sure you understand. I will have my assistant return your garment to you straight away. You have my word.” Her hand reached out awkwardly to pat his big toe, which he wiggled playfully under her palm. She straightened, ran a hand through her hair, and recited her customary closing remarks. “I trust you are enjoying your stay aboard the Ignisar, and I sincerely hope you will look no further than LunaC orp for all your future holiday and interplanetary travel needs.”
With a curt nod, she scampered from his room while he laughed at her, shaking his gigantic, golden-tattooed head.