Tag Archives: Romance

Pleasure Incorporated: Catherine and the Cowboy Part One

Disclaimer: As always, do keep in mind, this is first draft material. It has not been edited. I’m just flying by the seat of my pants on these stories, lol. Nonetheless, they are so fun to write. Here is part one of the newest installment of Pleasure Incorporated. Enjoy. 😀

Catherine and the Cowboy

I tried to ignore the envelope in the front seat as I drove north west along the long winding country road. If it didn’t have ‘Catherine Griffin’ written in elegant script smack dab in the middle of the thing, I could have pretended it was meant for someone else. No such luck.

I mentally slapped my wrist and pulled a fingernail out from beneath gnawing teeth, salvaging what was left of my manicure. I’d wanted a ‘me’ day. Why couldn’t I book a massage or facial like normal people.

Overworked and stressed out, my latest client had wrung my emotions raw. Being a social worker had incredible moments, times when I felt I made a difference, but other days, I felt powerless, my hands tied. The job chipped away little pieces of my heart. What I needed was some time off. A break to mend the fissures.

My friend had slipped Pleasure Inc’s card across my desk, telling me to get out of town for a proper release. A wink and a sexy saunter as she walked out of my office and back to her car was the only answer I got when I’d asked what Pleasure Inc. did.

I should have known better. Pamela was a wild, sex-crazed nympho. Bless her. I smirked and shook my head at the image she’d described about opening the door to discover twin plumbers. A shiver passed through me. The stories that woman had shared. I shifted in the seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

I’d left the city two hours ago, barely noticing the wide expanses of wheat, soy, and corn waving in the breeze as I flew past endless farmer’s fields, my eyes fixed on the road ahead and the GPS, which ticked off the diminishing miles like a time bomb. More than once, I’d considered turning around but curiosity and a burning desire that grew in proportion to the distance travelled kept me pushing that gas pedal to the floor.

I turned onto a narrow, paved lane, canopied by densely packed maple trees, their luscious leaves filtering the sunlight overhead, dappling the driveway in soft edges.

I wiped clammy palms on my leggings and eased my foot off the brake pedal. I’d come this far. The tree cover opened to reveal a sprawling ranch bungalow surrounded by horse paddocks and fields of emerald grass. I parked the car and was met on the front steps by a young woman, who extended her hand.

“Good afternoon, Catherine. We’ve been expecting you. I hope you had a good drive. My name is Elizabeth. I’ll be your representative here in case you need anything, or have any questions.”

I followed her inside, admiring the building’s open concept created by thick beams of dark stained wood and vaulted ceilings. The décor was rustic with country accents and white upholstered furniture. We passed a comfy sitting area.

“Feel free to use this space to relax, read a book, or watch television.” She pointed to a large pine cabinet. “The T.V. is just inside there.”

I nodded, acknowledging her fine efforts at normal conversation, but we both knew why I was there, and it wasn’t to watch Netflix.

She led me down a hallway and ushered me through a thick oak door. Curtains billowed around a colonial four poster bed. Open French doors led to a screened in porch, and filled the room with fresh air redolent of lilacs and apple blossoms.

“One of our staff will see to your bags and park your car. I’ll just need your keys.”

I handed them over, wishing I still had them to fidget with.

“Cole will meet you in the sitting room at 5:00pm. Does that give you enough time to settle in?”

I looked at my watch. Two hours. I’d seen a picture of Cole—an 8 x 10 glossy black-and-white head and chest shot. Who could possible settle in anywhere knowing all that stacked masculinity would be waiting for you in the sitting room. I swallowed and nodded. That was the most I could muster in response.

“Cole is a sweet, country boy. You’ll be in good hands. In the meantime, feel free to stroll outside, take in some fresh air, enjoy the view.” She winked and left, leaving me to consider her final words.

I waited until my luggage arrived in the room, then took Elizabeth’s advice and wandered to the paddocks. I’d attempted riding lessons as a kid, but my experience had been limited to a tractor backfiring, causing the young sprite to bolt, leaving me clinging to the reins for dear life. After a good five minutes of death-defying antics, in which I managed to stay on the saddle, the horse finally stopped. I was so exhausted from the ordeal, I slid off and landed in a terrified, quivering heap on the dirt. I loved horses. From a distance.

As I approached the barn, I stopped and stared slack jawed. Cole stood in the middle of a training ring, running a striking chestnut stallion through its paces. Elizabeth’s words popped to mind. “Enjoy the view.”

Dusty cowboy boots poked out beneath tight faded jeans, a thick leather belt creating a striking boundary between fabric and tanned, sculpted flesh. Dirty blond locks curled beneath the brim of a well-worn cowboy hat, and a scruff beard framed high cheekbones and scrumptious lips. I liked mine in response, delighting in the tingle that ran through them at the thought of his mouth on mine.

His glossy photograph had whet the appetite, creating delicious fantasies in my head, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing, knowing at some point this evening, I would have that hard-muscled body in my bed. Sweat trickled down my ribs.

I could count my lovers on one hand, and my experience with men wasn’t terribly different than my dealings with horses—they typically ended in disaster and the incident left me unfulfilled at best. I’d fallen into a rut, and this adventure seemed like an innovative way to kick start my sex life. It had looked good on paper. Now standing there, watching Cole’s muscles flex as he took control, coaxing the stallion to bend to his will, made me question everything I considered reasonable about this plan. What the hell was I supposed to do with all that?

While my mind grappled with semantics, my body knew what it wanted to do. Heat grew in my chest, and I gripped the wood fence for support as my legs trembled.

He caught my eye and smiled, impossibly adorable dimples winking, and my heart started, threatening to leap clear out of my rib cage. There was only one thing to be done. I turned tail and ran back to my room.

Stay tuned for Part Two!

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Opening Pandora: Emma’s Dance

Trying something COMPLETELY new here…

What do you think?

Music pulsed. Strobes flashed. Sweat dripped between my breasts and down my sides as I gave over to the bass, letting it move my hips, orchestrating my arms and legs to its hypnotic siren’s call. Drunk as fuck, I wandered lost in my racing heart beat, watching Emma move.

She took control of the song, wrapping it around her tight curves, bending and drawing my attention to every inch of her. She teased the edge of impropriety, flirting with sensuality, her dance provocative and addictive to watch.

She drove me insane. I couldn’t get enough. She occupied my dreams and filled my days with visions of tanned skin and a radiant smile that made me yearn for another taste of her. She drove me to distraction until I couldn’t focus on anything or anyone else.

She sidled up to me. Her chest pressed against mine, her groin grinding into my thigh as she straddled my leg. She glanced at me from beneath long dark lashes, a playful smirk flitting across her full lips. I knew that look well—a blazing image portending the promise of requited passion—and my stomach tightened. My hands ached to touch her bear arms, to run my fingernails through her raven black hair. The air sparked and crackled between us, an electrical current, raising the hair on my arms, snapping every nerve on edge.

She pulled away, a twist and turn manipulated by the rhythm. My eyes followed, drawing me forward. She controlled the string, a line invisible to all, but it pulled and lured me in until I had her pinned against the railing, my body a shield from the amorphous, grinding, pulsing crowd. She smelled like tropical islands and chocolate, and I leaned in close, inhaling her scent deep into my lungs, kissing the slender curve of her neck.

She held my waist, fingers tucking into the back pocket of my jeans. Her hips moved, enchanting me further, keeping me under her spell. I stroked the back of her neck, my hands fanning out, weaving their way through her hair. Her gaze locked with mine, and she smiled, melting my restraint, every muscle tumbling toward her.

Our lips met, a chaste encounter. Need coursed through my veins, and I cupped her face, holding her captive as I deepened the kiss, reveling in her taste, relishing her tongue teasing mine.

A million people ebbed around us, but I only saw her. The music slowed, a heavy beat throbbed from the speakers as her fingers slid down the front of my pants, inching their way between my legs. I gasped, losing my balance, as a finger slipped inside me.

“I want you,” she purred in my ear, her teeth grazing the edges.

Lightening fried my thoughts, leaving only a haze of desire in its wake. I gripped the railing, steadying myself as her fingers moved, slow and tortuous in time with the maddening tempo of the song. If we stayed there much longer, I was going to come in the middle of the dance floor.

Breath raged, I bit her lower lip, desperate. “Take me home.” It wasn’t a question or a statement, it escaped as a plea—a reverent prayer. She held the power. She controlled my heart, my body, and my soul completely. There was no going back from this. Everything ordinary would forever seem dull and colourless. Her presence in my life had brought me to the peak of something extraordinary, and I never wanted to come down.

She withdrew her fingers, hooking one around a belt loop, pitching my hips against hers. “Chicken.”

Gauntlet thrown, I snuck my hand down the front of her jeans. Surging moisture greeted me, and my pussy clenched in response. She leaned her head back and moaned, loud enough for others to hear, her brazenness fueling my need. I found her clit and circled the engorged nub, rubbing, pressing, knowing it would be her undoing. She fisted my hair and kissed me with urgency, her body bucking against mine.

Everyone must have known what we were doing, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop. I could feel her climax building, and my body responded. Like a match to kerosene, my blood caught fire. Her nails bore into my neck, and she held me tight, her legs weakening as her orgasm built. I watched enthralled as her eyes softened and her cheeks flushed.

“Come for me.” I panted.

She let out a gentle cry, her body shattering beneath my touch. I held her there, shoring her up against the waves of people crashing against us. No one seemed to notice our dalliance. The crowd flowed with the strobes, swaying to the rhythm, allowing Emma and I to remain invisible, allowing me to take her to the heights of passion.

Hooded eyes, sexy and heavy with the weight of her release, caught my gaze and smiled. “Your turn.”


In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Sexy Musings in the Morning

This is what happens when your muse makes you write something during the wee hours of the morning… I feel a story coming on….

“Have you ever craved desire? Not the wanting, but the feeling of being desired. Not by a lover or significant other, but by a stranger, someone who doesn’t owe you years of commitment or who doesn’t feel trapped by layers of guilt and socially acceptable notions of loyalty. Do you long to be looked at with hunger from someone you’ve never met, or perhaps from someone you’ve met only once—in the briefest of glances, the most insignificant of occurrences—but felt that spark, that pull of fate, drawing you together in a snowball’s avalanche of reckoning?

If you have, you’ll know what compelled me. You’ll understand why I did it. If you haven’t then I can only offer sympathy, for you truly haven’t lived.”

Hot in Aruba – Chapter One


All right, everyone. Here’s a sneak peek at Chapter One! I welcome any feedback you might have!



The notes weren’t mine. I nabbed them from the trash bin. At first, I had felt like a voyeur, peering into someone else’s life, but I’d been collecting them for so long, they were now a part of an elaborate hoax I’d created for myself—the lie to end all lies—the existence of true love.

I slid the clasp aside and opened the lid of the lacquered wood chest. Eyes closed, I reached in and stirred up the contents, listening to the satisfying shuffle of paper cards, passing over several offerings before settling on one. “I love the way you fit, curled into my side, as we glide together on the porch swing.”

I held the thin sheaf of paper close to my heart. The veranda sagged empty now. A burden of snow weighed down the wooden bench, a layer of ice suppressing the hinges.

A tuneless whistle emanated from the living room, catching me up short, and I groaned, affecting a mental face palm. I was a masochist, allowing myself to get swept up in the charade. Nothing in my experience had ever taught me the validity of love’s promise. Survival, hard work, blood, sweat, and tears… that was the stuff life was made of.

I placed the note back inside the box and tucked it under the bed as a pair of meaty hands and thick forearms grabbed me from behind.

“Hey, baby.” Mark pressed his hips into my ass as I bent over.

I straightened and stepped into his embrace. “Hey, yourself.”

“That was a fine view.”

“Sunny-side up?”

“Half naked.” He grinned and lifted me, carrying me to the bed. He made quick work removing my t-shirt, the only vestment I had on, and his own clothes landed in a pile on the floor.

A moment later, I lay on my back engaged in a riveting game of Mr. Wobbly hides his helmet. Despite my efforts to mix things up in the bedroom, Mark remained committed to the missionary position, which did little to aid my quest for an earth-shattering orgasm. I swore I was one of those women whose clit stretched miles away from their vagina.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, Samantha,” he grunted, pumping hard.

The draft from the single-pane window caused a shiver to race up my spine. I yanked on the duvet, trying to lift if up over Mark’s back, but it lodged under his knees and wouldn’t budge.

Teeth bared, his breath quickened, and he got that crinkled look on his face, which meant he was about to blow. If I had any hope of reaching orgasm, I needed to focus. I quit fiddling with the covers and shifted a little, trying to stop the broken spring in the mattress from gauging into my tail bone. I closed my eyes, desperate to build the climax.

Too late.

He let out a long wheeze and collapsed, half his weight on the mattress, the other on me. Both my hope and clit shrivelled. After a period of heavy breathing, he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. “Did you go, baby?”

“No.” I flipped onto my stomach and drew circles with my nails on his smooth chest. I ran my fingertips over his six pack, delighting in the dips and valleys, and traced the outline of a gothic tattoo that trailed across his pecs and up over his shoulder, before ending in a hot muscled sleeve. “But maybe you could help me out with that.”

He stretched. “I’d love to, but I gotta get to work.”

I didn’t expect a lot, but a little effort would be nice. Not that it would have mattered. I’d never been able to come during sex and most guys I dated didn’t do foreplay. If I wanted an orgasm, I had to take matters into my own hands. I chocked it up to baggage from my past and daddy issues.

He kissed my forehead and hopped out of bed, heading to the bathroom, and I admired the indents in his sculpted backside until the door shut.

Past baggage or not, I needed a release. Cranked and revved up with nowhere to go, I stared at the ceiling. The paint bubbled and peeled in one spot, and a crack ran the length of the drywall seam. I needed to talk to the Superintendent. It was only a matter of time before the whole thing collapsed.

The toilet flushed, and the shower door closed. With a final glance at the bathroom, I opened my nightstand and pulled out Bob, my faithful battery operated boyfriend, and waited. Once the water started running, I turned on my vibrator. It was old and sounded like a Hoover, but it never let me down.

Still sensitive from Mark’s jouncing, it wouldn’t take long. I just… needed… a little… attention… right… there. I arched my back into the pounding throb of my toy, letting the delicious buzz fill my body. I clutched the sheets, fisting them in my free hand, riding that delicious wave of pleasure as it crested. I let out a strangled moan and fell back, my heart pounding.

Why couldn’t I do that with an actual man present?

I cleaned up the evidence with some tissue, tucked Bob back in the drawer under my panties, and glanced at my phone. I still had time for coffee.

I grabbed yesterday’s jeans and hunted through my basket of clean clothes for a sweater. I hadn’t gotten a chance to put them away last night after work, so they sat there like a beacon admonishing me. At least I’d folded them.

Locking the door behind me, I headed downstairs, fortifying myself before stepping outside. A blast of Arctic air hit me full gale, and I tramped, head bent to the wind, through the snow, taking a quick right into the cafe. Once within the warm and welcoming glow of Let it Percolate, the comforting aromas of dark-roasted coffee and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies enveloped me.

I shook the icy flakes from my long blonde hair and stomped the slush off my boots onto the already soaked black synthetic carpet. The cafe wasn’t typically busy this early in the morning, but a few people lounged in the plush chairs surrounding one of the gas fireplaces. I envied them their leisure and warmth.

Durham was a small vacation town, nestled by the lake. Shops lined the main drag, and angled parking spaces poked out from either side of the road. In the summer, it looked picture perfect. Beautiful Victorian row houses with deep burgundy or stately hunter-green shutters lined roads paved with cobblestone. Hybrid tea roses in soft pinks and yellows cast their delicate scent through the air. Swinging benches on inviting porches overlooked manicured lawns. Baskets brimming with icicle pansies, hydrangeas, ivy, and impatiens hung from old-fashioned light standards. The perfect romantic getaway for exhausted city travellers seeking to pluck up their social media feeds with plastic smiles and pretty sunsets. Today, however, in the dead of winter, the cafe’s large, floor-to-ceiling windows framed a world blanketed in white. On a Christmas postcard, it would have been serene and festive, but beneath the powder and frosted window panes, Durham lay abandoned. Its shutters closed. Its shops empty. People forgot about Durham in the winter. The city moved on and Durham watched and waited for the warmer temperatures and spring blossoms that heralded better times to come, when the world would love it again, if only briefly.

“Hey, Samantha.” A familiar head popped up from the dessert cabinet. “One whole-fat, extra-whip caramel latte with double drizzle coming up.”

“I need that to go, Carlos. And a black coffee, large.” I followed the soggy carpet runner to the register and fished a ten-dollar bill out of my threadbare wallet. The shiny new brakes on my car had taken most of my free cash that month.

“Mark, huh?” Carlos’ mouth set in a firm line, and his hands found their way to his hips.

While his father might be able to get away with that stance and intimidate an entire courtroom of witnesses, it didn’t suit Carlos, and he wore it awkwardly.

“Yes. Mark. He’s on his way to work.”

He parceled out my change. “Why doesn’t he come down here and get his own coffee so we can meet him?” He leaned against the register, golden-brown eyes regarding me. “You’ve been dating this guy for six months. Why doesn’t he want to meet your friends?”

“He’s shy.” I shouldered my way past a man waiting in line. Carlos mirrored my progress from the other side of the long counter.

“It’s because he’s ugly and bald with a hare-lip isn’t it.”

“If I were that superficial, I’d wouldn’t be talking to you.”

A hand flew to his heart. “You wound me, Bella.”

I smirked. “Fine, you’d pass.” In truth he’d do more than pass any test I could give him. Brilliant, almost finished his law degree, he was handsome—all chiseled jaw and high cheekbones from his Italian father and Spanish mother.

“Your tests involve tattoos and lousy attitudes.”

I leveled my gaze at him, though admittedly, I didn’t have the best track record “Not all my boyfriends have been terrible.” I couldn’t argue with him on the tattooed part.

“You like the bad boys. I could never compete,” he said.

“No, you couldn’t. You don’t have a bad bone in your body.”

“I could try you know. Make a rolling stop at an intersection. Go five miles over the speed limit.”

If I had been drinking my coffee, I would have spit it onto the floor. “No, you couldn’t.”

His lips rolled into a pout. “Fine. But for you, I might be willing to consider it.”

I leaned in for a hug. “You’re too cute.”

He hugged me back. “Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”



Carlos made his way back behind the counter.

“I don’t know why you keep trying,” Paul said as he swirled the last peak of whipped cream into a customer’s hot chocolate.

“I’m wearing her down.” Carlos smiled at the couple waiting at the till and completed their order, jotting down their drink selections for Paul.

Paul snickered. “What about Claire? Does she know you’re making the moves on another woman?”

Carlos had to recount the couple’s change. “Bad form, dude.” He tossed Paul a healthy glare of disdain.

Other than Samantha, no one knew he and Claire were no longer a couple. He still cared about her, and for a time he thought he loved her, but his priorities had changed. He wanted something else. Something more. And fortunately, so did Claire. If the decision fell solely to him, he would have made their breakup public a year ago. Three more months wasn’t that long to wait.

He placed a new cup, its surface marred with chicken scratch outlining the next order, in front of Paul. “You coming tomorrow?”

“Classic deflection. Well done.”

“I try.”

Paul placed the filled cups on the counter, shining his dimpled mega-watt smile at the older woman, who blushed as she accepted her Chai Latte. Her male companion steered her quickly toward the back of the room. “I’m looking forward to meeting all your adoring fans and playing the Don Juan to your Don Quixote.”

Carlos laughed. “You pull that crap and I may lose my adoring fans.”

Paul shrugged. “Chicks dig that whole pirate-rake scene. Besides, I’d only be helping preserve your pristine image as a chaste saint.”

“I’m not a saint, nor am I chaste.” Carlos glanced around the cafe to make sure no one paid attention to their conversation. He didn’t think Blake, their boss, would approve of the topic.

Paul leaned against the counter. “When was the last time you got laid?”

Beads of sweat popped along Carlos’ forehead. “I’m not sure we should be talking about this here.”

“They aren’t listening.” Paul gestured to the small group clustered together by the fireplace. He didn’t even bother pointing out the couple who sat side by side, huddled at the back. Carlos knew they couldn’t hear anything over the jazz music playing in the background.

“It’s been a while.”

Paul actually snorted. “Dude, I know it’s at least been a year. That cactus is shriveled. It’s probably grown a fungus from lack of air. Maybe some crusty smegma.”

Carlos threw the cloth he used to wipe the counter at Paul’s head. “Speaking from experience?”

Paul dodged the wayward towel. “My stallion gets ample space to run.”

“Just so I’m clear, you’re a stallion, and I’m a cactus?”

“You need to water that shit. Thing’s gonna atrophy and fall off. Just saying.”

“Didn’t you just give me hell for hitting on Samantha?”

“I fully support a little extra curricular activity. For God’s sake, Claire’s been in Italy forever. You see her once a year. A man can’t live like that. I just caution against where you throw your misdirected attentions.”

Over six feet tall, with the kind of biceps and tattoos that would normally make Samantha salivate, Carlos always wondered if something had happened between them, but he’d never worked up the nerve to ask. “Did you and Samantha ever, you know, hangout?”

“Damaged goods that one. I’ve warned you.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned, but you never explained how you came to that conclusion. Did you guys date? A one-night stand?” The idea rankled.

Paul started wiping down the espresso machine. “What if I told you she was the fuck of the century? Would that help?”

“No.” He was sorry he asked.




Reading Chapter One from Avelynn: The Edge of Faith

Hey, everyone!

On Thursday, October 6th, 2016, I held the launch of Avelynn: The Edge of Faith at Coffee Culture in my hometown. It was an awesome night. I had so many friends and fans come out to support the second book in the Avelynn series, I was blown away. Honestly, I am still in shock and so incredibly grateful. <3

I know some people wanted to hear a reading from the book, but it was a very busy night, and I just didn’t get the chance. So, I decided to record one instead. That way, even those who couldn’t make the launch could still enjoy listening to/watching me read the first chapter!

Here, for your viewing pleasure, is a reading from Avelynn: The Edge of Faith! Enjoy. 😀

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Happy Book Birthday Avelynn: The Edge of Faith!

I am thrilled to announce the official release of Avelynn: The Edge of Faith. A brand new stand-alone historical romance, and book two in the Avelynn series!


You can grab a copy of this awesome new book online at your favorite retailers!

Amazon Canada

Amazon US

Barnes and Noble

Chapters Indigo

Right now, there’s a wicked deal on the ebook! It’s  a limited time offer, so grab your copy today!


And to help build the excitement, here’s a little teaser to whet the appetite for more. 😀


Happy reading!

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Avelynn: The Edge of Faith Pre-Orders 4 Kindle

So…. this happened. 😀

Pre-order for Kindle… yep, she’s ready.
Avelynn: The Edge of Faith on Amazon.com

Here’s the link for my Canadian Peeps!
Avelynn: The Edge of Faith on Amazon.ca

Print book pre-orders will be available soon… 🙂

Avelynn Edge of Faith

In gratitude,
Marissa xo