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Breathless Press is an e-book publisher specializing in Romance and Erotic(a) stories.
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Starting in the summer of 2009, Breathless Press came into existence. Since then, we have been producing top end romance and erotic stories for valued readers to enjoy.
Breathless Press is an electronic publisher of paranormal, erotic, and mainstream romance, releasing one to three e-books a week in a variety of downloadable formats. It is Breathless Press' mission to provide readers with quality romance books in electronic formats and to raise the standard in e-publishing.
The Captain's Christmas by Leona Bushman
While on a rescue mission, Faraway must save her ship from pirates before they destroy her Christmas.
Captain Faraway Hastings sets off on what she thinks is a regular rescue mission, even if it did have the bad timing to be on Christmas. Disparate reports from the medical officer and captain of the downed ship cause her to look more closely at the situation.
Ethan Roarke, lieutenant commander and chief medical officer, is frustrated with the time it's taking for help to come. When he learns that his captain has neglected to inform their rescuers of the dire straits his people are in, he's angry and concerned. But worse, his loyalties are now torn between his captain who lied and the one trying to save them.
When Fara and Ethan meet, the attraction is immediate and strong despite the circumstances. Can Fara and Ethan discover the pirates hidden amongst them before they kill everyone on the ship? Or are they doomed to miss out on their chance of a Merry Christmas?
"I assure you, my people can count. And the tally with the last group waiting below is," she pushed some buttons on her wrist unit. "Seven hundred twenty eight men, women, and children. Would you like the breakdown?"
"I'm telling you. I have a complete list of our manifest here, and there are less than six hundred people, sir."
They stared at each other. "Well," she said after a beat of silence. "It seems we have ourselves some stowaways. Possibly—likely—dangerous ones."
"The other ship. I didn't think about it, but there were two main directions that the largest groups came from. That means," he stopped and looked to see if she'd had the same thought.
"That means, Lieutenant Commander Medical Officer Ethan Roarke, that as I'd suspected before landing my first shuttle there, the enemy is amongst us."
"Why would they do that? Why would my captain not tell me or you?"
"You know him better than I, but my take is he's trying to protect us. That, in his opinion, telling us would put us in more danger than not knowing. I happen to disagree. Knowledge is power in my experience."
"And mine," he replied. "It's not like him to withhold this type of information from me. He'd normally want me to be apprised so I can adequately prepare my medical team for the right kind of injuries. Have you asked the first officer?"
"No. I will do so once everyone's on board."
"He's in sickbay from injuries during the walk."
"Thank you for the information. In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open. It goes without saying that I don't like having an enemy on my ship."
"Any more than I like that my captain may be responsible for allowing it to happen." Somehow, during the last part of their conversation, their voices had become quieter, as if they were afraid of being overheard. He'd placed himself so they were practically touching by the last word. When she said ship, a puff of air had landed on his lips. Their closeness made the tone of his response sound intimate as he dropped his volume in reaction to her closeness.
"I don't like hotheaded medics," she whispered.
"And I don't like pushy, bossy captains," he replied just as softly.
"Then you're going to hate me," she said and kissed him.
A Christmas Match Made In Heaven by Brianna Lorin
A Christmas Match Made in Heaven is a tale that unites two lonely souls while reuniting two departed ones just in time for the holidays.
On the day after Thanksgiving, Carroll Moore is presented with three items that once belonged to her beloved, now deceased Aunt Maggie — a woman's ring, a diamond pendent, and a man's college ring. The accompanying letter reveals the items' history, and while the woman's ring and diamond pendant are Carroll's to keep, she is asked to return the man's college ring to a very special young man. What follows is a romantic tale that unites two lonely souls while reuniting two departed ones just in time for the holidays.
With candles lit, lights off, and bath salts sprinkled, I sank into the dreamy warm water, relaxing every inch and crevice of my body. There was a workload from hell awaiting me at the office. The next few weeks would be crazy with one closing after another with sellers wanting to move south, out of the cold, snowy mountains, and buyers wanting to make money on their new establishments. All of this had to be done, of course, before winter arrived or in time for ski season and Valentines' Day.
While drifting into that half-asleep, half-awake mode of twilight, completely relaxed in the warmth of the tub, I began to hear a woman sobbing. At first her sobs were soft, and between sobs, she was speaking in a faint voice.
"Please don't leave me. Hang on. Please don't leave me."
I began to feel the ache in my chest again; it was dull and throbbing, and as the sobs grew louder, the pain grew stronger.
"Help me," she whimpered.
I became immobilized and started shivering. The bathroom was filled with a chill, and the flames on the candles went out. I looked around the bathroom, only seeing shadows of the trees outside blowing in the wind. The street light was thankfully shining through the window. It was then that I felt Aunt Maggie; her voice was low and barely audible. "You have to help me get back to Ron, Carroll. He's waiting for me somewhere. I can't find him in this black abyss, this very strange quagmire I'm trapped in."
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Somewhere between here and there."
"I don't understand what you want me to do?" I asked, looking around in the darkness, searching for a hint of her. My teeth were chattering.
"He proposed on Christmas Eve, thirty-five years ago. The ring was hidden inside one of those small jewelry box ornaments on his family's tree. Ron gave it to me after I opened all the other presents he had for me. He so loved to spoil me.
"When he handed me the box, he got down on one knee. I covered my face and cried. I loved him so much, Carroll, and couldn't wait to be his wife. Later that night, when we were lying in each other's arms, he told me about the other present he had for me. We were to spend New Year's Eve at the Statler Hilton in Manhattan. Don't think poorly of me, Carroll."
"Why would I, my god, Aunt Maggie, you loved the man and you were going to marry him. Do you honestly think Mike and I waited 'til our honeymoon?" There he was again, my ex, creeping into my memory in one form or another, and why the hell was I talking to what, a ghost?
Baby, You're Cold Inside by Ivy Bateman
BlurbLily Sinclair isn't in the Christmas spirit.
Successful, sexy and headstrong; being nice is too overrated when being naughty is so much more fun. However, there are those who believe that her cool interior stands in her way of true happiness. On the night when something a little bit colder than Lily takes her on a journey to her past, she goes along for the ride, but...
Will her guide show her just what it will take to melt her icy soul?
"So you assume that I arranged this?"
"Well, I don't see any other magic, frost people around," I say, trying to keep my sarcastic tone in check.
"Well, yes...it was me, but why aren't you more shocked? A lot of people freak out when this kind of thing happens to them! I thought for sure that even you would be impressed to be taken back to a point in your past. But no, you're just as full of attitude watching your past as you are in the present! The guys and I really thought we'd be able to break your hostile exterior." He genuinely seems hurt, but it doesn't faze me.
"The guys? What guys?" I put my hands on my hips and face him.
"Yes, the guys, well and some girls, my co-workers, we who work for St. Jude."
"Yes," he says, his voice filled with pride
"The saint for hopeless cases?"
Our banter is interrupted by a loud groan. We look over at Cory the rutting wonder and past Lily. I can tell Phillip assumes the noise came fromCory, but I remember it was me, expressing my sour mood. This guy had one move; put it in, pull it out and repeat. It got old fast.
I shake my head and look back at Phillip. "They can't see us, right?"
"No, they can't see us, or hear us, or anything like that. So getting back to St. Jude..."
"Yes, ok...you work for the saint of hopeless causes, Phillip. I got that. So why are you here? Oh wait!" I put my hand up to stop him from talking. "You and the guys think I am a hopeless case or cause or whatever! That's a riot! Are you here to help me?"
Frozen Phillip momentarily transitions into assistant Phillip. He looks down at his feet and scrunches his face. He appears embarrassed. I laugh loudly.
"You are! That's insane! I don't need any help!"
"Well, Lily, we disagree," he starts speaking very slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "We've been watching you for quite a few years. Your attitude toward your fellow man has been a bit...off kilter for more than a little while and we think it's time to intervene. Most people who are not very nice eventually have an epiphany, a sort of a wakeup call and change their ways, but not you. You seem to thrive on making people miserable, but in the end it's not going to help you." Phillip stops and looks into my eyes. He's probably trying to see if this is moving me at all. I stare blankly back at him, crossing my arms under my breasts.
"And?" I snap at him.
Phillip swallows before he continues. "And every Christmas season, because at this time of the year people are often at their kindest, we are all given a 'hopeless case,' a person to turn around. This year I was given you as my project. I've been sent by the powers that be to help you find your kinder side. We think that somewhere under your cold exterior lies a warm heart, a gentler person and we'd like to bring that out in you."
I howl with laughter. "Wow, Phillip, do I feel sorry for you! How'd you get stuck with me? Did you draw the short straw?" I'm laughing so hard I'm in tears, but I stop soon after. The snow suit is too tight for a lot of mirth.
"Lily, I'm quite serious."
"Oh I believe you, my dear. Don't worry. The icy get up, the trip to the past, it's all very dramatic, but come on,Phillip! Why on earth do you and your guys care about one bitchy woman? Besides, I don't think I'm a hopeless case. I think I'm fabulous. You're wasting your time. Aren't there people who have seriously hopeless cases that you could be working on?"
He smiles brightly. "See right there! The fact that you can think of people other than yourself, that you can imagine there are suffering people who need help shows that you have a bit of warmth in your soul."
I scoff at him. "No it doesn't. Phillip, I think most people are hopeless. If you helped people based on what I think, you'd never stop working. The only person I care about is me."I pat his frozen cheek and walk over to watch the action in the center of the trees.
Christmas Is Cancelled by Aurelia B Rowl
Could Tilly's day get any worse? Even Christmas had been cancelled! Will Dean succumb to temptation as he endeavors to make Christmas better for both of them?
Matilda 'Tilly' Carter didn't think her day could get any worse, but even Christmas had just been cancelled.
The one girl Dean Watson has sworn never to have—never even expected to see again—just flared back into his life and into his home—his sanctuary—like she belonged there. Christmas would certainly be more bearable with Tilly around though...
As the chinks in Dean's armor appear, Tilly seizes the chance to win her knight once and for all. She's not about to take no for answer—not this time—but Dean must resist, even as his heart rebels and temptation threatens to undermine his resolve.
Win or lose? Love or honor? Which will Dean choose? Assuming he gets a choice...
Tears welled in her eyes, clouding her vision. She turned and wandered blindly toward the exit as the first tear escaped, forging a track down her cheek for the rest to follow. Tilly took in a lungful of air and then another. Having made a spectacle of herself once already, she really didn't want to be the cause of yet another scene.
The crowds swarmed around her, with students and family members heading home for the holidays only adding to the usual rush-hour melee of commuters. They jostled past, threatening to swallow her whole, as they rushed en mass in the opposite direction, using their briefcases and suitcases as a battering ram.
It was suffocating. She had to get out of there. Breaking into a run, broken heel or not, she raced through the doors and out into the biting December chill. Her waterlogged eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, dreary sky after the bright station lights, but she didn't dare slow down, desperate to escape the throng of festivities and merriment.
Carol singers assembled outside burst into a jovial rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," full of joy and happiness. Didn't they know Christmas had just been cancelled?
"Ooof!" Tilly smacked her shin against the edge of a low bench, too dark to see as she tried to dodge the growing audience. She ended up sprawled across the bench, dropping the handle of her suitcase with a loud clatter.
At least the pain shooting down her leg gave her an excuse to be crying. Unfortunately, it meant she had to stop running too. Not good. Whenever things got too tough, too intimate, or too confrontational, you could rely on her to make a run for it. Running away was what she did best...
A tall figure loomed in the edge of her vision, something vaguely familiar about the man's loping gait. In an effort to see him more clearly, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, then cringed inwardly at the black streaks now etched all over them. Great. She could add impersonating a panda to her day from hell as well then.
The mascara stung her eyes, rendering her unable to focus properly. She blinked furiously as the man strode past her, talking into a mobile phone in a deep voice that resonated throughout her body and made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A surge of adrenaline rushed to her legs, numbing the pain as her subconscious told her to run. Now!
The cloaked figure stopped mid-stride as if he'd heard her gasp. "Mike, I've gotta go," he barked into the phone, hanging up instantly. He backtracked until he was standing right in front of her, his tone changing from a growl to one of surprise. "Basmati?"
Great. She hadn't heard the nickname for years—nine years, four months and...sixteen days, to be exact—and even then, only one person had ever actually used it. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, shaking her head from side to side. No. No way. There was absolutely no way this could be happening to her. Not now. Not today of all days... Talk about kicking a girl when she was down.
"Is it really you?" he asked.
Maybe she should pretend it wasn't her? Mistaken identity and all that? She looked quite different now; she might be able to pull it off and get away from him. Even as she tried to convince herself to do it, a little voice inside told her it was futile to resist. It pained her to agree. It would kill her not to speak to him, to not look at him and see the man he had become. She'd only drive herself mad trying to work out why he was so far from home.
Nine years was a long time. Maybe he'd have forgotten all about how she'd thrown herself at him, her brother's best friend, humiliating herself to the extent that she'd fled her hometown? Yeah, and maybe pigs had suddenly learned to fly too.
"Hi, Dean," she mumbled, staring down at his feet like the timid and shy teenager she'd once been whenever he'd been around. But she wasn't that person anymore. Oh no, she was quite possibly even worse now. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, delaying the moment when their eyes would meet. "Long time no—"
Her jaw actually dropped. It gaped open, betraying her reaction. Smart brogue business shoes—well-polished—gave way to an expensive-looking gray pinstripe suit—Armani, if she wasn't mistaken. He'd teamed it with a crisp white shirt and a deep red silk tie—the color of blood—tied in a fancy Windsor knot, and then he'd completed the ensemble with a dark woolen overcoat. Left undone, it only served to highlight his spectacular physique.
Butterflies took flight in her belly, fluttering wildly. Where were the scruffy jeans and baggy T-shirts? She committed every inch of this new Dean to memory, but she couldn't bring herself to look beyond the shirt collar and tie. It was sure to be her undoing. She was practically salivating already. He must be able to hear her heart pounding ferociously against her rib cage.
She'd always had a thing for men in suits, and she'd always had a thing for Dean; putting the two together was sure to be a winning—or maybe that should be losing—combination.
"It is you. I knew it. Fancy seeing you here." He sat down beside her, his tone friendly, and he sounded pleased to see her. If only she could deny feeling the same. "Are you all set for Christmas then?"
Ripped from her daydream, the one where Dean had tracked her down, declared his undying love to her, and then whisked her away to a country manor, the events of the day came crashing back down on her. The shock and her excitement at seeing him drained out of her, seeping out of her shoes into the concrete slabs, as cold and harsh as the reality she faced.
"No, not yet. Speaking of which, I must dash," she said, ignoring the pain lancing through her leg as she stood. She did her best to saunter off without looking like she was running away but failed spectacularly.
"Hey, are you okay?" Damn it, he must have spotted her limp. He caught up with her in a matter of strides, the crowds parting for him, whereas she was trying to swim against the tide.
"I'm fine, thanks." Tilly sounded sullen and brattish even to her own ears.
"You could have fooled me." He spun her around to inspect her. She didn't want to think about how bad she looked.
"I said I'm fine." Stunned by her body's reaction to his slight touch, she staggered back a step. "I also said I have to go."
"What happened to your shoe?"
She could easily picture the way his brows would be knotted together, frowning down at her, but she didn't want his concern. What she wanted was for him to leave her alone. Didn't she? It was pitiful how much she was torn between pushing him away to make a run for it or wrapping her arms around him and clinging on like a frightened child.
"It doesn't matter, just forget it."
He either missed the hint and the dangerous edge to her voice or he chose to ignore it. "It does matter, and I can't just forget it. Are you injured?"
Now she really glared at him. "For Pete's sake! I said I'm fine. Just let it go." Big mistake! She'd been right to avoid looking above the shirt collar, and the poor light did nothing to hide the transformation he'd gone through. She couldn't hold the glare; she'd already seen too much. Heat was building in her core and merging with the fire that had erupted inside her at his touch.
"No." A hint of menace crept into his voice. It couldn't possibly be protective; he had no reason to be protective of her. Well, he'd been warned—
Deck Mac Hall by Raven McAllan
For ten years Mac had trained to understand the sort of Dom he is. Now he must explain himself to Holly and hope it's what she wants.
Holly has lusted after Mac for years, so when he suddenly announces this Christmas is the right time, she is determined to see it through.
Mac is a man of extreme tastes, and he's not all sure that Holly can be the sub he needs. He has prepared for this time for years.
Will all this preparation bear fruit, or is little Holly going to run away screaming? There's only one way to find out.
Damn Mac. All she wanted was a quiet life, not a clit-quivering tingle every time he came within five yards of her. On cue, her body responded to his presence, and her thong dampened.
"Your eyes are saying take me, I'm yours," a deep male voice whispered in her ear. "Have you decided yet? I told you, Holly. It has to be your decision, not mine. If you say yes, we'll set the rules. Not until then. If you say no? Ah well, only I'll know what you've turned down." His kiss on the nape of her neck sent a totally different sort of shiver through her. If his look dampened her thong, his kiss had soaked it.
"Well?" he asked. His voice was patient, his tone as conversational as if they were talking about the weather, not their future. "Holly, you've had time. We decided on Christmas Eve. That's tonight." He stamped his feet in the snow. The air was frosty, and his breath created white misty swirls around his lips.
"You said midnight," Holly reminded him. "And if we're being precise, I've had ten years. Now I have half an hour yet."
The nip on her neck made her jump.
"So I did. And?"
"So you can wait. I'll meet you in the Cock and Bull then."
He spun her around to face him, eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't be thinking of reneging, would you? I'll be mighty pissed if you are." He put his arm around her, and his hand caressed her ass through the heavy coat she was wearing. Even through all the layers, the heat of his touch seared her skin.
Bloody prick. Argh, and if he moves that finger any harder, it'll be in my asshole.