Put a little scary romance in your nights with four stories from New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Randi Alexander. From a very patient ghost to an erotic vampire, each short story is wonderfully unique. You’ll have a hard time choosing just one as your favorite.
The Dom Who Haunts Me
Vanessa Merris has enjoyed every night of deliciously throbbing BDSM given her by the ghost of a cowboy who comes to her in her dreams. But tonight is October 31. Will the sexy cowboy disappear forever after Halloween?
The Ghost at Twelve Mile Roadhouse
When an old cowboy shows up at the roadhouse, the owner of the place, Garnet, learns why Daisy has been passively haunting the bar for years. But something is different tonight, and Daisy is changing her routine…and scaring the hell out of Garnet.
The Ranch House from Hell
Jenna is hired to remove the malevolent spirit that haunts the McCray Ranch so it can be torn down, and the land developed. What she finds out about the ghost, and about herself, makes her question her own existence.
This Cowboy Bites
Kade Rourke is tempted to slam the door in Emma O’Connor’s face when she sneaks onto his ranch asking for help. He’s even more tempted by the deal Emma wants to make with him. Is Kade ready to reveal everything about himself for a bite of sexy, willing Emma?
The Dom Who Haunts Me
Vanessa Merris stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and poked at the bags on top of the dark circles under her eyes. These were her fault, not his. The time he spent with her was like a time warp, feeling like hours to her, but taking only minutes, according to the clock.
She was the one who forced her eyes to stay open every night, afraid to fall asleep. Not afraid of the time she spent with him, but afraid of the attachment she’d formed to him. How the heck had she fallen in love with a ghost?
“It’s Halloween. The last day he’ll come to me. I can do this.” She braided her long, blonde hair and brushed her teeth, lingering in the room instead of getting into bed and trying to get some sleep. She didn’t want to let him go.
For the past thirty days, since moving into this spooky old house on a secluded piece of land south of San Antonio, her nights had been haunted, and far too satisfying. In town, she’d asked about local hauntings, and gotten a few strange looks, but also the promise that with Halloween’s end, most of the ghosts ended their haunts, as well. She’d miss him, though. Miss him a lot.
The Bad Cowboy, she called him. Black eyes and a tanned face under a dark brown cowboy hat. His plaid shirt only half buttoned under a leather vest, jeans, boots, and a shiny belt buckle. She’d never seen him in real life; she would have remembered him if she had. She’d always had a thing for cowboys.
That’s why she’d given up her apartment in Denver—the one she’d shared with her now-ex-husband—and had rented this old ranch house to set up her studio. Funny how fate worked. An hour before her sister sent her the link to this property’s rental site, Vanessa been driving through Denver at midnight, the day her divorce was finalized. She’d had looked up through the sunroof of her car and made a wish on a shooting star, asking to find a real cowboy, not a citified poser like her ex.
She wanted a man who enjoyed the bedroom play of Dom and sub, who would satisfy her deep craving for a BDSM relationship. Who would love her enough to give her the family she wanted, not push aside her needs, the way her ex had done for four years.
Was The Bad Cowboy the answer to her wish? Yes, he was one-hundred percent real cowboy, but not real human. Vanessa needed to be more specific in her wishes from now on.
She walked from the bathroom to the dark kitchen, filling a glass of water as she looked out the window at the acres of lawn she now got to mow. Yesterday, she’d nearly fallen asleep on the riding mower, thanks to that Bad Cowboy. He’d shown up the first time October 1. “Howdy, ma’am,” he’d drawled. “Welcome home.” Slowly kissing his way from her toes to her lips, he pleasured every inch of flesh in between. His mouth possessed her pussy, knowing exactly what to do to make her hot, manic, and screaming with pleasure. Then he was gone.
She’d woken, feeling the wetness between her thighs, the throbbing in her core created from the intense orgasm. Smiling, she’d gone back to sleep, promising herself she’d remember that hot dream.
She didn’t have to remember. He came back the next night. He started the exact same way, kissing, licking, and sending her skyrocketing with his talented mouth. But he didn’t leave then, as he had the night before. That night, he’d flipped her over and use his piggin’ string to tie her wrists above her head.
Using a length of rope that he’d unraveled at one end to make a homemade flogger, he’d started slowly with soft, scratching touches of the rope on her ass and thighs. When her core clenched and need twisted through her, he’d used his fingers in her opening and on her clit to bring her to orgasm number two of the night.
The next night, the first orgasm was at the pleasure of his tongue again, and the second, at the mercy of his clever fingers once more. But that third night, after she’d caught her breath, he’d turn her over and stood back, using the leather tip of a bullwhip on the fronts of her thighs. Her body had quivered with desire as the pleasure and sweet pain drove her insane with a sparkling release.
He’d lifted her hips then, and plunged his hard cock deep into her core and the orgasm that overtook her shot her backward over the edge of a cliff where she’d free-fallen until she landed back on her soft bed. Alone.
Every night after that, he’d added another wickedly sensual torture; a new, naughty toy, a belt, a chain, a flogger. He pleased her so often every night that she woke quivering…but satisfied. She never spoke to him, never asked him what his name was. It didn’t seem right, somehow. As if that would make him real, and he wasn’t real. Was he?
“That’s too deep of a subject to explore right now.” She just needed to go with it, accept it for what it was. And the bonus? Being intentionally single, with no intentions of dating any time soon, Bad Cowboy had come to her just at the right time.
Vanessa set down her water glass. The digital clock on the microwave said midnight. She needed sleep. She was working on a commissioned painting that was already a week. Padding back to the big bedroom at the far end of the house, she climbed into bed, wishing she was stronger, emotionally, and hadn’t pinned her heart to an ethereal cowboy who couldn’t give her the life she wanted.
Flopping onto her side, she stared out the window into the darkness. This place would be perfect to raise a family. Kids, puppies, maybe even some chickens. Ponies, someday, for the children to ride. She let out a long breath. “Not gonna happen with Bad Cowboy.” She needed to get out, find a real flesh-and-bone man who would cherish her as much as her cowboy did, someone she could love as much as she’d grown to care for her perfect Dom.
Sorrow put wetness in her eyes and she closed them, just for a second, she told herself. Trying to stay awake, but too many nights spent denying herself sleep to keep the cowboy Dom from her dreams, caught up with her. Seconds later, he was there, kissing his way from her toes to her thighs and making her wild for more.