Secrets Kept by Shyla Colt

Blurb for Secrets Kept

Behind the striking veneer, television star, Aiden hides a dark past. Emotionally paralyzed, and resigned to the title permanent bachelor she leaves a string of broken hearts, and cool sheets in his wake. Then free spirited Mya walks in and cracks the casing around his stone heart. Unable to offer her the love she deserves he walks away. Only to be drawn back by evil forces intent on destruction.

Intuitive, Chakra healing, new age store owner, Mya never met a lost cause. Drawn like a moth to a flame to the man who hides behind a mask, she’s burned by his swift rebuke. Though Aiden’s spirit screams out, begging for peace, she keeps her distance.

Her pride crumbles when strange occurrence linked to Aiden begin, escalating at an alarming rate. Scared for her life they must delve into the past he wishes to forget in order to save her life. 



Her serene expression stole his breath. “You can’t hide from me, Aiden. I see you.”

“You see me?” He grabbed her hand and twisted it behind her back, exerting pressure without hurting her. Her pulse fluttered in her neck. “Trust me now?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin.

“Spread your legs and lift up your skirt.”

Her hands shook as she bunched up the cloth and held it to her upper thighs.

“Higher, I want to see your panties.” Her eyes grew round and her lips parted. Her shallow breathing excited him. With her dress around her waist, she revealed a lacy pair of black bikini underwear. “Oh, black panties, were we hoping something would happen?”

She bit her bottom lip and looked down.

“Look at me.”

She lifted her heavily lidded eyes.

“Now answer me.”


“Good girl.” He walked over to her and trailed a finger down her front. “Damn baby, you’re soaked. Do you like being told what to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you say we find out, sweetheart? Are you willing to play with me?”

She nodded, and he grinned. “Turn. Place your hands on the wall.” The silky smooth skin beckoned and he trailed his fingers down her arms. She shuddered. He reached around to caress her through the lace, now slick with her dew. The contrast of rough and wet made him ache.

“You really like this, don’t you Sunshine?” He bent, nipping at the sensitive skin on her neck until he found the groove between her neck and her shoulders, and sank his teeth in deep.

“Oh!” She jerked back toward him. He yanked up her dress and grabbed his prize.

“I promise I’ll replace this.” His other hand joined its twin and he yanked, ripping the delicate lingerie apart like a sheet of paper. “And this has to go. Lift your arms.” They worked in tandem, ridding her of the dress. He ran his hands down her body, skimming over every curve of her velvet skin until he reached her inner thighs. With slow, gentle motions, he drew circles with his fingernail, getting closer and closer to her blistering heat, only to pause and retreat. Her muscles tensed. Moans spilled from her throat, an erotic solo in his bedroom.

“Tell me what you want, Mya.”

“Touch me.”

“Where?” He moved the circles to her outer thigh. “Here?”

“No,” she said, her voice higher than usual.

He moved his circles to the sensitive flesh behind her knee and she squirmed. “Here?”

“No.” Gravel crept into her tone.

“So tell me, Sunshine.”

“On my pussy.” She jumbled the words in her rush to get it out in one breath. Normally he’d push it further, make the woman beg for the pleasure he could deliver. With her, he wanted different things. Sweet, slow, and sappy. No. She was a mystery he needed to unravel. He’d get her out of his system, accept her help, and walk away. Frustrated, he slid a finger inside her pussy and groaned. Her walls held him prisoner in a tight embrace. “Oh, you are so tight.” He pumped fast. “Hot and wet.” He added another finger and crooked them into a hook.

“Oh, shit!”

“You’re going to come screaming my name, Mya. I want you to break into a million pieces.” He brought his other hand up and roughly massaged her breast. Her head fell back to rest against him, and her hips moved with his rhythm.

“That’s it baby, let go.” Her muscles fluttered and he grinned, pinching the dime-sized nipples that protruded through her bra.

“Aiden.” She came apart, sucking his fingers into her greedy sheath as she clamped her thighs together. Streams of hot liquid coated his fingers. Ravenous, he pried her legs open, and brought his fingers to his mouth. The honeyed musk made him purr like a jungle cat.

“You taste even better the second time around.” Rested against him, lax, satiated, and trusting, she fucked with his mental space.

“I’m nowhere near done with you.” He spanned the area of her waist and lifted her easily, placing her on the edge of the bed.


“Spread your legs wide and show me your pretty pink inside, Mya. I want you to come again in my mouth while you’re fucking my tongue, then we’ll move on to my dick. You’re not leaving here until you’ve been thoroughly ravished.”

“Oh my God.”

“I prefer the name Aiden.” He winked and she laughed.

“I don’t…is this too fast? We haven’t even been on a date, and I’m about to be spread-eagle on the bed.”

“Yes, you are.” His voice dropped, and her lids fell to half-mast. “Do you think a night out would make this outcome any different?” He knelt in front of her, massaging her thick thighs in his hands. “What’s between us is potent. Holding out would be a moot point. We’d end up here regardless.” He gripped her inner thighs and spread them. “Now, do as I say, so I can give us both what we want.” He ran his finger down the center of her cleft. “And need.”




Buy Links



All Romance


Author Links





This is What a Writer’s Day Looks Like~Shyla Colt


It’s funny as a writer it’s easy to talk about your characters, but not so much yourself. It’s like asking Superman to talk about himself without involving his powers. Yeap, my name is Shyla Colt, and writing is my super power. *places hands on hips and strikes a ridiculous pose. Able to dream up a story in the span of a minute, type faster than the eye can track, and fling witty comments faster than Spiderman’s web, I’m a force to be reckoned with. Of course, this is all by night…By day I’m mild mannered, stay at home mom of two, and wife to a Marine. The following is a day in my life.

I’m woken oh so sweetly by the sweet sounds… okay so my alarm clock is usually my one year old who at the moment is teething. Her squawks… no really ask my friends its pterodactyl status, let me know the little miss is up and ready to be changed, medicated, and fed. If I’m lucky this doesn’t happen at six or earlier and her older sister remains asleep. Up I go doing a zombie walk to the bed. Then together we greet the day, and I start a pot of coffee. Usually I have a hangover at this point, no, not from alcohol. * Wags finger, from using my powers for good too late the night before.

Breakfast is whipped up, the older daughter is awakened and they eat while I cruise my emails, check up on Facebook, etc. Caught up I grab a quick bite and begin to think about what I’ll write today as I clean up, entertain, and play. We’re all about PBS here *whispers, no commercials, so I’ll let them watch their faves, Daniel Tigers Neighborhood , and Sesame street. Then it’s time for the daily walk. Dressed, we load up into the stroller and set out to talk about nature, swing by the grocery store if necessary, or just amble along in the neighborhood. Now that they’re nice and tired out,*crosses fingers, hopefully, it’s nap time.

That’s when I hop onto the computer and write like my life depends on it. Between 1-2 hours later they’re up and it’s crafts/games, and imagination time. In between pandering to my two budding scientists I write. Be it on a computer or a scrap of paper. I can get pretty creative. At times I imagine I look like a college student with my every present composition notebook and whatever book I’m using for research at the moment. *chuckles. I’m a mad mad woman with a dream. Yeap, stole that from Dr. Who, he has a blue box that travels through time and I have … well… my imagination and writing utensils? *shrugs sheepishly.

My day chugs along like Thomas Puffing down the track and I make dinner, have family time, help bath and bundle my little sweeties, spend time with the Mr., and then oh ,then it’s time to don my suit! Generally, a quirky pajamas that make me smile, and become Shyla Colt, the super hero once more. It’s not as glamorous as one would imagination. But it works, with a lot of juggling, sacrifice, tons of support and looking forward. I know a lot of my friends ask me how I manage to work from home, and what it’s like to be a writer. I hope this answered that question and gave you a little chuckle at the same time.


Author Bio

Told once ‘You have to be an author, then you’re craziness becomes eccentrics’, Shyla Colt has always been in love with the written word and possessed a desire to write. Named after Super Girl in the comics, she often mistakes her mortality for super hero status. So, she holds many hats, Mother, Marine Wife, and writer are her top three. Writing allows her to explore new venues, face her demons, and touch others. A huge practitioner of paying it forward, and putting in what you want to get out, she hopes to inspire, enlighten, move, and entertain you with her work. Mixing humor, drama, and strong women, often with a paranormal element, she continues to soldier ahead in the writing field. One of her favorite things is talking to fans.

If you want to know more about me and the hectic craziness I call my life you can find me at the following places

Facebook :



Twitter: @Shylacolt