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BOUNDLESS

Love can steal a woman's breath and make her throw caution to the winds. Plunge into some otherworldly lovin' with Annie Dean, Dionne Galace, and Bonnie Dee. Demons, dragons and scarecrows, oh my!

"The Straw Man" by Bonnie Dee (re-release)

A lonely woman imagines the perfect man and accidentally conjures him into being on All Hallows Eve. For a single night she has the lover of her dreams, but a night isn’t nearly enough. Can she find a way to turn her fantasy man back to flesh and blood?

"Waking Kitty" by Dionne Galace

Jack Ridley is an old-fashioned reporter. He doesn’t believe in anything unless there’s a ton of evidence to back it up and even then, he may still have a question or two hundred for it. Until he meets Kitty Jones and falls like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, Jack can’t seem to care that the ducks in a nearby park are turning pink or giant statues of naked men are appearing out of nowhere in the middle of downtown Chicago traffic.

Pink-haired Kitty Jones is beautiful, flirtatious, and seemingly happy-go-lucky. Under the cheerful, self-assured façade, however, she is slowly falling apart. Not only does she suffer from blackouts and wakes up unable to recall where she is or how she got there, she seems to be seeing dragons… everywhere. The only person she can turn to now is Jack Ridley, a tough-as-nails reporter who seems to have a few secrets of his own.

"Seven Days" by Annie Dean

Teresa intends to devote her life to the church, immaculate and untouched. Into her quiet life comes a beautiful devil sent to test her purity and her determination. She is silent prayers at midnight; he is the flash of gold in a gambler's palm. She has known nothing but service and self-sacrifice. He has known nothing but centuries of carnal sin.

Neither know anything about love.

If she denies him, she condemns him to eternity in hell. If she yields, she forfeits her soul. Who will emerge victorious? To find out, join Dev and Teresa for Seven Days of temptation.

Reviews

Two Lips Reviews, Reviewer Lindy, 4 lips
She crafts lovers with an amazing sensitivity, and this story of miracles, wishes coming true and two souls who are meant to be together will touch your heart.

Mrs. Giggles - 79
This is one book that should go into print, if you ask me, if only to give the cover the exposure it deserves.
Regarding "the Straw Man" - Normally I will roll up my eyes because come on, we're talking about a scarecrow here. But Ms Dee happily strings me along, having Sam and Marie bond and know each other with increasing urgency and even desperation as sunrise approaches. I am surprised to find myself cringing when the sun finally rises and Marie goes, "Nooooo!"

Reader Ella / L: Boundless features three women yearning for change, any change, that might make their lives more full than empty. And each got her change all right, though, in ways they most certainly were not expecting.

Reader John: The ladies have imbued their heroes and heroines with so much yearning, but at the same time, like in Waking Kitty, there is a sense of displacement and of longing for home. The writing is just beautiful. Bonnie Dee has such a gift for imagery, she brings fall to life for me. And Sam is just so... I don't know what to say. I wanted him for myself.

Reader Kelly: Ok, I wasn't sure how I would feel about this because I don't like paranormal stuff. You guys should get this, even if you don't like these kinds of stories. They're magical but in a good way. ... Bonnie Dee writes a hell of a sex scene.

Excerpt from The Straw Man

At last her candy stash ran dry and her patience wore thin from answering the doorbell all evening. She flipped off her porch light and changed from her witch’s dress into a stretched-out tank top and sweats. She washed off her age makeup to reveal her own smooth, oval face and brushed the snarls out of her shoulder-length, honey blonde hair. She had just stretched out on the couch to watch the black-and-white, classic version of The Fly, when there was another knock on the door.

“Christ. Get a clue,” she muttered. “No light mean no candy, stoopid.”

But the knocking went on and on. Steady and even, in perfectly spaced intervals. Knock.... Knock.... Knock. It was kind of creepy. The hair on her arms prickled. She sat up straight, trying to remember if she’d locked the door. The knocking grew louder, more insistent.

Marie stood up with a sigh. This had better not be some stupid teenage practical joke like a flaming bag of poo. On the other hand, flaming poo would be preferable to being raped or murdered, she thought as a tingle of unease tickled her spine. Flipping on the porch light, she opened the door a cautious few inches, ready to say, “I’m closed for the night. No more candy.”

Standing on her doorstep was a tall, lanky man in a long dark coat. His face was angular and broad across his high, prominent cheekbones. His glossy black hair was straight and ended shaggily at his collar. A lock of long bangs fell across his forehead and over his straight, dark eyebrows. Slanted, almond eyes gazed at her intently as if he knew her.

For a split second she felt she knew him too, but she couldn’t place the face. “Yes? Can I help you?” She closed the door a half-inch, ready to slam it shut if he did anything weird.

“May I come in?” His voice was low and husky and sent an unexpected shiver of lust through her body. It vibrated from her belly to her crotch like tickling fingers.

“Um, no, you can’t. Do you need something? Is your car broken down? Lost a trick-or-treater or something?” She scanned his body.

He was wearing an old-fashioned, long coat at odds with his threadbare navy pants and the scuffed work boots on his feet. “No.”

“Look, I can call a wrecker, a friend or family member ... the police.”

“No, thank you.” He shifted from one foot to the other as if uncertain of his balance and continued to gaze at her with an expectant look in his eyes. Was he waiting for her to ask him in?

Marie felt a creeping sense of déjà vu as she met his gaze then scanned his body once more. It wasn’t until her eyes focused on the fedora hat clutched in his hand by his side that the light flashed on. Her eyes widened. He was wearing her scarecrow’s clothes. Why was he wearing her scarecrow’s clothes? Maybe he was a wandering vagrant, a bum who had exchanged one set of rags for another.

“Well, what do you want then?” She closed the door even farther, talking to him through a scant few inches of open space.

A puzzled frown knit his straight, dark brows, as if the answer was obvious. “I’m here for you,” he said simply.

As if on cue, the wind rose, sweeping through the door and blowing through Marie’s thin top, raising gooseflesh on her arms and bringing her nipples to two sharp peaks. Her crotch clenched and released in a hard spasm that wet her underwear. “You’re ... here for me,” she repeated. “Oo-kay. Bu’bye now.” She shut the door quickly, blocking out the stranger and the errant wind. She turned the lock.

For a moment, she stood with her hands pressed against the solid wood, listening to the ominous silence on the other side, then she turned and dashed across the house to the window overlooking the fields. The moon’s pale glow, glimmering through scudding clouds, lit the round curves of the pumpkins on the ground and the ragged corn stalks waving in the breeze. She focused on the ‘T’ made from two boards nailed together. It was empty of the straw mannequin she’d made. Her heart pounded. This guy was a loony. Who took scarecrow clothes and wore them?

Marie jumped as the steady, insistent knocking started up again--Knock. Knock. Knock--in evenly spaced intervals that seemed like they might go on all night.

“Stop it!” she yelled. “I’m calling the police. They’ll be here in, like, two minutes, so you’d better run!” She went to the phone and lifted it to dial 911, but paused with only two of the digits dialed. Her finger hovered over the one as she thought about what had happened earlier that day. Her earlier portentous feeling was back full force. The something that was coming was now here for her.

Standing in the field, she’d wished for a lover like the one in her imagination. She had looked up at the scarecrow and voiced her desire, “I wish you were alive,” then that weird wind blew up from nowhere. If her life was a movie, it would add up to magic.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, but set down the phone. Walking slowly back to the door, she stood on her side of it and listened to the repetitive thumps for a moment. “Stop! Stop it!” she yelled again, and the knocking instantly ceased. “What do you want?”

The muffled voice on the other side of the door replied, “You.”

“Do you know how fucking creepy that sounds?” Her voice was shrill and hysterical in her ears. “Go away!”

“I can’t,” came the calm reply. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? Turn around and walk away. Now, or I swear I’ll call the police!”

“I’m supposed to be here. You asked for me.”

Marie was stunned. Horror and an awful excitement coursed through her. She thought about the classic story, The Monkey’s Paw with its “be careful what you wish for” motif. She pictured the man’s angular, vaguely oriental face and realized who ... or what he looked like. After all, she’d drawn the primitive image herself.

“That’s crazy,” she murmured then raised her voice and said haltingly, “What am I, uh, supposed to do with you?”

There was a long pause then that delicious, warm, rough voice answered, “Whatever you want. I am made to please you.”

Marie felt a hot blade of lust stab through her at the suggestive words. All reason and logic fled and only erotic images tumbled through her mind. Her crotch tightened and released wetly. She laughed aloud. “No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. Nuh-uh.”

“Please let me in. It’s already getting late.” He sounded urgent.

“What does that mean?”

“There’s not much time.”

Marie frowned. She opened the door and peered through the crack. “Not much time?”

He stood on her porch, broad-shouldered and rawboned, looking at her with those exotic, soulful eyes. “You only asked for one night.”

She felt her resistance melting. It was his dark chocolate eyes that did it. Between one breath and the next she suddenly and completely believed he was what she thought he was. The magic must be working on her too, breaking down her logic and allowing her to believe. There was no other rational explanation for what she did next. As he moved a tentative foot toward the door, she swung it open and stepped back to let him inside. A rain-scented wind blew in with him, bringing a scattering of dried leaves into the front hall. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, she closed the door behind him.

The man looked around the room, examining everything in sight, a slight cock to his head, reminiscent of a dog sniffing out unfamiliar territory. Then he turned his gaze on her and smiled.

Marie’s already racing heart leaped, flipped and twirled before settling again to a steady thumping. His smile was warm, welcoming and familiar. It lit his face with the comfortable glow of a fire burning on a hearth. It was like a homecoming. She felt she’d known him her whole life, and he was a treasured friend. Her fears and doubts blew away like so many scattering fall leaves. She didn’t stop to consider or second-guess as she allowed this stranger to step toward her and take her in his arms. Maybe her capitulation was part of the spell. Her will became as weak and liquid as melted caramel.

She certainly felt unable to resist when he bent his head and covered her mouth with his. The lips that touched hers were warm and soft, the mouth wide and generous--just the way she’d imagined it. Just the way she’d drawn it. The thought made the hair at the nape of her neck rise, but his continued kissing put it to rest again. His tongue flicked out to trace her lips as lightly as a butterfly landing.

Her mouth opened automatically beneath the touch, wanting more, deeper, harder. She put her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth even tighter against hers. She felt like she’d been fasting for years and had been suddenly served a five-course meal. His body was solid and real in her arms, the big frame towering over her so she had to rise up on her toes to kiss him. But his size wasn’t intimidating. Instead, she felt safe and secure, wrapped in his embrace, yielding to the increasing depth and passion of his kisses. His tongue ranged over the interior of her mouth, tasting her and teasing her tongue to response. The heat and wetness of his mouth invaded hers as their tongues twined together in a sinuous dance.

She breathed in the slight moldy odor of the clothes and the dry, dusty scent of straw, and beneath them, the male musk of his pheromones calling to her. Oh yes, he was definitely real. The throbbing in her breasts and pussy verified it. This was no hyper-real fantasy induced by too many mini-Hershey bars. She was sure of it when his hands grasped her rear and pulled her tight against him. She felt the bulge of an erection through his loose-fitting pants. It pressed against her crotch and stomach, massaging her clit and sending a lick of fire burning through her synapses. Marie’s heart pounded like a runner’s and it wasn’t from fear. She moaned softly and rubbed herself against him.