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About Tempting Jupiter

Two scorching hot heroes and one dangerously secretive woman are about to collide.

Jupiter and Seneca are Arena Dogs, genetically engineered slaves created to serve at the will of their masters. From the beginning, Jupiter was destined for the gladiator arena where a Dog faces death every day. Seneca became a gladiator only after years of abuse in a pleasure house and he owes his success in the arena to the Dog he secretly loves—Jupiter. Slated for death after a rigged match in the gladiator arena, they’re instead rescued and taken off the planet by the Resistance. When the escape ship is recaptured, their only hope to remain free is a human woman with an agenda and secrets of her own.

Feeona is a thief and a con artist, but that doesn’t make her one of the bad guys. Normally, the Arena Dogs would be safe in her care. Even if she wasn’t crazy attracted to them she’d want to help them, but their presence has interfered with her plans and a cause so close to her soul that nothing can be more important—not even the two men who are rapidly taking up residence in her heart.

Will Feeona find a way to save them all or will she be forced to choose who to save and who to betray?

This is book two in the Arena Dogs Series, but the story is a novel length, stand alone romance.

Excerpt from Tempting Jupiter

Jupiter woke to a sharp spasm in his belly and a confusing mix of scents. An unfamiliar figure leaned over him. Acting on instinct, he tried to shove the shadowy attacker away, but his muscles were weak. The silhouette hunched over him blurred at the edges as light bled around to reveal hints of the creature’s identity. Clothed, small, bloody—with Jupiter’s blood. When he lurched forward, the flex of his abdominals shot shards of icy, strength-stealing pain through his muscles. His right arm didn’t respond at all and the left moved only inches before it bumped benignly against his torturer.

“Hey, hold still, big guy. I’m working here.”

The voice was gruff, annoyed, and female. As she looked up from her task, light painted her features and Jupiter’s vision adjusted to his current reality. She was human. He lay on the floor and she kneeled beside him. There was something chemical overpowering her feminine scent markers. What he could read from her, told him she was anxious but not why. Despite her demanding tone, she was not a guard. Not a threat.

“What are you doing?” Forcing out the words helped focus his mind. Roma had few females on staff. Most were medics.

“I’m trying to close this wound. I’ve got sealer here, but it’s a mess.”

He lifted his head to look down his body. The woman’s hands were steady, but she was trying to push the edges of the wound closed with only her fingers and they kept slipping in the blood.

“I said hold still, damn it. You’ll only make it bleed more.” She reached for a crimson-soaked wad of gauze and wiped futilely at the blood. “Crap! The sealer won’t bond if I can’t get the edges together. I think the major repair job inside is okay, but you’ve ripped the wound open and torn it even farther. What did this, anyway? Looks like someone tried to punch a hole in your chest.”

The memory of the spike stabbing into his chest flashed in and out of his thoughts. It had been an accident. A misplaced elbow and a spiked gauntlet worn by his opponent. Jupiter’s thoughts went to Seneca. They both were meant to die in that match. The ache of worry for his pack brother rivaled the pain of the hole in his gut.

“Damn.” The woman’s curse refocused his attention on the present.

Her focus was entirely on her task.

It was going badly.

Where were the tools of her trade? He’d spent enough time in the med center to know them all on sight. Clamps? A suture threader? No arena healer lowered themselves to the floor to treat a Dog. No, she was no medic. He looked around but recognized nothing. The unadorned walls were close. A bunk hung from one wall, and an energy field of some kind filled the only exit.

Jupiter tried again to lift his left hand. His arm stretched out along the floor until it bumped against the woman. He managed to bend it, but lifting it clear of her was beyond his strength. “Help me pull my arm over you.”

“Uh, I’m a little busy—”

He growled with all his strength to stop her flow of words and gain her compliance.

Her head lifted and she met his stare with wide, surprised eyes. The vivid green of them startled him when everything else about her was muted and unadorned. She wore her hair in a skull-hugging style that ended in a knot at her neck. Her clothes were a dull black and they covered her skin, neck to toe.

“Do. It.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth.

“Oo-kay. But if you die, it won’t be my fault.” She stopped and twisted to wrap her hands around his left forearm.
She ducked under it, and then brought it close to his torso. His nostrils flared as he got a better whiff of her. Beneath that chemical tinge that masked her scent, there was none of the stench he associated with humans. Her subtle female essence coiled in his lungs, soft and tempting.

“You’re human,” he accused. Her scent shouldn’t stroke his senses.

She leaned over him again. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

“Yes.” He flexed his hand and his claws flicked out.

Her startled gaze darted to his and she studied him through her lashes. She swallowed as if her words had lodged in her throat and sat back on her heels. “Well.” A false note of teasing lilted through her voice. “I suggest you wait until after I’m done patching you up before you kill me.”

He dipped his chin in agreement. “That was my plan.”

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About the Author

Charlee Allden is a long time fan of love, adventure, and happily-ever-after. She grew up in Florida where a huge fallen oak tree in the swampy woods near her home served as her very own Star Ship Enterprise. Luckily the alligators were almost never a problem on her spaceship as the flight-deck was several feet above the muddy ground. She did lose a few tennis shoes on away missions, though. Today, Charlee is a multi award winning author of sexy romance. She still lives in Florida across the street from a miniature version of the swamp she lived by as a child.

You can connect with Charlee online at www.charleeallden.com or on her Facebook author page at www.facebook.com/CharleeAlldenAuthor.

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