Silver Bastard by Joanna Wylde….Excerpt Reveal

silver bastard excerpt reveal

SILVER BASTARD

Prologue
California
Five years ago
Puck
Motherfucker that burned.
The shot was a double, and the fact that it’d come cradled between two beautiful, giant tits attached to a stripper with endless legs and a tight ass didn’t hurt one goddamned bit. Tequila hit my stomach, the alcohol shocking my system, and shit finally got real.
Freedom.
Fourteen months since the last time I’d had a decent drink—all but forgotten what it felt like, too. That sweet, harsh pain that comes from losing the surface layer of skin all the way down your throat? Gorgeous. Never felt better in my life, and that’s a fact. Helped that the queen of body shots had sucked me off right after we’d pulled up to the party.
Spent the last year trying to decide what I’d do first when I finally got out. Kept going back and forth between getting laid and getting drunk, but God apparently has a soft spot for assholes because we’d found one hell of a good compromise.
I’d been free nearly four hours now. Still felt like a dream. The California Department of Corrections took its own sweet time with everything, up to and including processing a man out. I’d spent half the wait wondering if the cockwads would change their minds or if the club lawyer had forgotten something. Figured they’d find some way to fuck with my head.
FBI, state cops, even Homeland Security—they all wanted a piece of my club, the Silver Bastards MC, and not a week went by inside that they didn’t try to cut it out of my hide. Guess they figured a prospect made an easy target.
Not fucking likely.
My old man died for the Bastards. If I turned, he’d haunt my ass the rest of my life because that shit does not stand in my family. I’d been born to wear a Bastard cut. And tonight? For the first time I finally had the right to show those colors off.
A hand slapped my shoulder, then a burly man caught me up in a hug so tight it hurt. My fucking ribs creaked.
“That patch feel right on your back, brother?” asked Boonie. He was the president of the Silver Bastards in Callup, Idaho, and I’d heard him call me a hell of a lot of things—but never brother. Felt good. Damned good. Until an hour ago, I’d been a prospect and I’d never gotten any special treatment because of my old man.
That’s how I wanted it.
“Best night of my life,” I admitted. He pulled back, and his face grew serious.
“Proud of you,” he said. “You did what you had to. Protected the club, took care of business. Painter told us how things were inside, how you took his back. You earned this, earned it with your life and your blood. I know you won’t shame this patch, Puck.”
“I won’t,” I replied, his words almost too much. Boonie grinned suddenly, then grabbed my arm and turned me toward the bar again.
“Drink up,” he told me. “Then find yourself some pretty little thing to play with, because tomorrow we’re ridin’ home. Your bike’s in good shape—took care of it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Another shot, baby?” the stripper asked. She rolled onto her side, reaching out to catch my neck with her hand, pulling me in for a kiss. That brought me a little too close to her face. She was sweaty, and her mascara had started running. Didn’t smell that great, either.
“More shots,” I said, pulling away. I’d appreciated the blow job, no question. But she wasn’t exactly the fantasy I’d been jacking off to the last year and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t settle once I got out. I wanted someone fresh—someone clean and soft and sweet enough to eat. I’d play with her for a while before letting myself go, punching through all that softness until she screamed and begged for mercy.
Mouth, cunt, ass.
That’d been what got me through those long nights wondering why the fuck I’d let myself get caught.
Ignoring the bitch on the bar, I reached across and grabbed the bottle of tequila, chugging nearly a third of it down. Christ, there went the rest of my throat. Then I turned to look out across room. Four of my new Silver Bastard brothers had come down from Callup—Boonie, Miner, Deep, and Demon. Joining them were four Reapers and two Reaper prospects. They were here to welcome Painter, who’d gone down with me on a weapons charge. This sucked, but such is life. We’d been fighting for our clubs, so no regrets there. Through a combination of luck and well-placed payoffs, we’d managed to stick together for the duration of our time served. The clubs provided the funds and the attorneys—to protect them, we matched that investment with our silence.
Painter caught my eye from across the room, grinning. After so much time together I could almost read his thoughts. I gave him a nod, one of those chin jerks that speaks volumes.
Congrats to you, too, asshole.
“You havin’ fun?” a man asked. I looked down to find a painfully skinny, greasy little man missing half his teeth standing next to me. Tweaker called Teeny. His face was just a little too eager, his eyes a little too bright. Unfortunately, Teeny was our host for the night so I had to be nice to him. We were out in the middle of nowhere, tucked back in a canyon where this douche had somehow acquired a house. The Longnecks MC—one of our “allies,” although their loyalty was questionable—had a warehouse set up in a shop right next to this guy’s house.
This Teeny asshole wasn’t even part of the club . . . Apparently his brother Bax was patched in, though, so they used him as a pit stop. Something didn’t quite add up about the situation, but fuck if I cared. In the morning I’d be riding for home. With luck my future association with the state of California in general and Teeny in particular would be extremely limited.
“See anything you like?” he asked. “That’s my old lady, there. “You want her? She’s real good, welcome you home right.”
I shrugged, glancing over toward his woman. She was probably in her midthirties, I decided. Pretty enough, but she had a hard, tired look around her eyes that didn’t appeal. Not only that, she was wiry and skinny as fuck. Probably smoking meth to block out the fact that she had to live with this dickwad.
“No, she’s great but not my type,” I said, casually taking another drink of tequila. Wasn’t burning so much now, which in retrospect should’ve been a sign to slow down. Maybe things would’ve turned out different.
Shitty thing about time—only runs the one direction.
“What’s your type?” he asked. I shrugged. The day I needed some tweaker to find me pussy, I’d cut off my own cock and get it over with. Swallowing another drink, I glanced across the room, pointedly ignoring him.
That’s when I saw her.
Now, I fuckin’ hate clichés, and shit like this only happens in movies . . . but I swear to fuck, I think I fell for her in that instant. She was small, with long brown hair in one of those knot things on top of her head. Not dressed to show off her figure, either. I could still see she had a tiny waist, though, along with generous tits and the kind of round, healthy curves you just know will cradle your hips perfectly when you’re pounding her.
I had to have her.
Like, needed her. Now.
“Good call,” Teeny said. I ignored him, focusing on the angel I had every intention of owning just as soon as I talked her out of her pants. God, she was pretty. Kind of out of place, too. Not flirting with anyone, and not a ton of makeup. Just wandering around, picking up empties, and avoiding conversation. Fascinating.
“I’ll introduce you.”
Teeny walked across the room toward my Dream Fuck. I started after him, because I didn’t want the asshole speaking on my behalf. Then Boonie caught my arm.
“Heads‑up,” he said, his voice pitched low, difficult to hear through the noise of the party. “We think somethin’s going on with that guy. Don’t be afraid to talk him up, okay? Can always use good information.”
I nodded, wondering why the fuck Teeny had to pick me to buddy up with. Tonight was for relaxing, enjoying myself. Just looking at him made me feel dirty, and considering some of the shit I’ve pulled in my life, that’s an accomplishment. Another hand slapped my back, then Painter caught me by the neck, squeezing me as he laughed.
“Never ends,” he said. “Boonie cock-blocking you?”
I punched him in the gut—not hard. Just enough to make him back off.
“No, right now you have that honor,” I muttered, glaring at him. “Christ, we just spent a year together in a fuckin’ cell. Think we’ve covered everything, so let me get laid? Please?”
He answered by punching me back, and I reeled . . . damn, hadn’t realized how drunk I’d gotten. Still, I wasn’t about to go down easy. I swayed, watching him as our brothers started crowding around us. The wild gleam in his eyes—a mixture of almost manic happiness and pent‑up energy—matched my own.
“Take it outside,” Boonie said. “I got fifty on Puck.”
“Hundred on Painter,” Picnic Hayes, the Reapers’ president, answered and then we were bundled outside for the fight.
I couldn’t wait.
We’d sparred before, of course. Nothing but time to kill in the pen, so I knew Painter’s moves like they were my own— and he knew mine, too. We were a good match, could go either way. Neither of us had much in the way of formal training but we’d both picked up a fair amount along the way. Hell, I’d gotten caught in my first bar fight when I was fourteen years old, seeing as my pop wasn’t exactly Father of the Year material. Still loved the old bastard, though.
The sun was fading as we stepped outside, painting the sky in pinks and oranges shot through with smudged clouds. I paused a moment, struck by the incredible beauty all around me, and smiled, breathing deep. So fucking good to be outside again. Nobody knows what it’s like, trapped in a cell like an animal. Nobody but the guys who’ve heard the sound of those gates closing behind them.
Fortunately for me, I wasn’t exactly the first Silver Bastard to do time for the club, which meant my brothers got me. They knew what this was like.
“Okay, we got a circle here,” Pic was saying. I blinked, starting to process the fact that maybe boxing with Painter while I was drunk might not be such a hot idea. Of course, he was drunk, too, and the booze would numb the pain . . . “Fight goes until one of you is down or taps out. Time to make your bets, brothers.”
Boonie caught my arm, pulling me to the side and looking into my face.
“You ready?” he asked. I nodded sharply, because drunk or not, I wasn’t going to pussy out in front of my president on the same day I got my colors. I glanced across the dusty circle to see Painter, who gave me a friendly sneer. Laughing, I flipped him off, then shook my arms out, loosening up.
That’s when I saw her again. Off to the side, standing next to Teeny, who was talking rapidly and pointing to me. I frowned, because I really didn’t need or want that asshole on my side. Knowing my luck, the fucker would send her running. I nudged my brother, Deep, who was standing next to me.
“See that girl?” I asked, jerking my chin toward her. “Make sure Teeny doesn’t scare her off, okay?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Thanks.”
Painter and I stepped into the circle together, and I felt the thrill of adrenaline cut through the haze of alcohol. My blood started pumping, pounding through me until I could all but taste it. Christ, but I loved to fight. Always seemed to clear my head, and I’d gotten good enough over the years that I won more than I lost. Inside, those skills had saved our asses, and I’d picked up my fair share of pointers from the very man I found myself facing.
Painter moved first, coming in with an experimental jab toward my stomach. This wasn’t a real attack, just him testing my limits. I’d had a lot to drink, which would slow my reflexes. So had he. That changed the baseline, something we both needed to feel out.
“Can’t believe they gave you a top rocker,” he said, taunting me.
I grinned.
“Try harder, old man. I know you too well.”
Painter laughed, then came at me again, suddenly. He punched me square in the stomach and I doubled over. Shit. I fell back and almost stumbled out of the ring, catching myself at the last minute. I heard the shouts of my brothers urging me on.
Oh, hell no.
No fucking way I’d lose a fight tonight. Painter could fuck right off, because he’d had his colors for years. This was my night. I owned this bitch and he’d just have to suck it up and deal.
Still staggering, I lurched forward toward him like I was out of control. Then I attacked, and this time I caught him. One hit, two. Three. Right in the gut. Painter gasped and I moved in for the kill.
Somehow he pulled himself together, catching me across the chin. My entire head rattled as I staggered to the side. I felt blood in my mouth, then found a loose tooth with my tongue.
Asshole.
I thought of the pretty girl I’d just seen, which pissed me off. The anger was good. Cleared my head. Didn’t matter if I won or not, she wouldn’t want to suck face with someone bleeding like a stuck pig. This wasn’t a fight—it was a cock-block.
Time to end it.
Painter waited for me, swaying. I’d gotten him pretty good.
He was definitely favoring his left hand, which was great news because he was left-handed. Lucky me. I was ambidextrous.
I launched myself at him, turning that to my advantage.
He tried to block me but his arm was weak. I landed a blow to his gut followed by one that caught the side of his cheek. Pain seared through my hand, parting the fog of alcohol.
“Dick,” he managed to gasp as I danced back, flexing my fingers. That last one had been bad—if I’d been any more off-center, I’d have a fist full of broken bones.
“You got him,” Boonie shouted. I stretched my hand again. Did I want to risk another head blow? I hadn’t even wrapped my knuckles. . .
Fuck it.
I caught his chin again and Painter went down, falling hard. Blood dribbled from his nose and for long seconds I wondered if I’d actually hurt him for real.
Then he managed to roll onto his stomach, tapping out and flipping me off, all in one gesture.
“Congrats on getting your colors, Puck,” he groaned. “I’ll give you this one. Enjoy it while you can because next time I’m killing you.”
I staggered back, grinning and raising my hands once I realized he wasn’t seriously hurt. It’d been a lucky shot and we both knew it—we were well matched, could’ve gone either way. As I heard my brothers shouting in victory I didn’t care. This was my night. I had my freedom and my patch.
Still needed that girl, though.
I looked around and spotted her standing next to Deep. Teeny stood on the other side of him, looking all sorry for himself. She was hugging herself with both arms, obviously nervous, and I felt my smile fade. Shit. I hadn’t wanted her scared. I shook my head, wishing things weren’t moving so fast. Waving off the men crowding around me, I headed toward her, half expecting her to run off.
She didn’t, though.
As I came to a stop in front of her, she gave me a wavering smile, then spoke. “Can I help you find another drink?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I took her arm and pulled her into my side, exchanging a satisfied look with Deep.
“Let me know if you need anything!” Teeny yelled after us, and
I felt the girl shudder.
“Christ, but he’s a nasty little shit, isn’t he?” I asked her conversationally, and she gave a startled snort of laughter. I liked the sound. Sweet and sort of innocent. Made my dick happy, that was for sure. Still, I didn’t want to fuck things up and push her too hard, because the skittish vibes were intense.
“Yeah, he is,” she agreed quietly, and I leaned down to kiss the top of her head. She smelled good—fresh and clean, just like I’d been fantasizing all those months inside. Fresh and clean and perfect.
I wondered what she’d taste like.
“They’re lighting a fire out back,” she told me, her voice soft. “By the kegs. Maybe we should go over there?”
Hmmm . . . I could work with that.
“Okay.”
She tried to pull away from me then, but I caught her hand playfully, tugging her back toward me.
“I can’t get you a beer if you don’t let me go,” she pointed out.
Fuck. She was right. Still, I wasn’t about to let her get away that easy—knowing my luck, Painter’d swoop in and take her, just to fuck with my head. If anyone could pull it off, he could. Fucker was pretty in his own weird way—even I could see it. I couldn’t compete, not with the nasty scar on my face.
I’d just have to keep a close eye on her, I decided. Protect what was mine.* * *An hour later I found myself leaning back against the wall of the house, wondering how I’d gotten so lucky. My girl’s name was Becca, and she was rapidly turning into my all-time favorite female. Not that we’d talked much—she was pretty quiet. But she was soft and warm, and now I had her tucked between my legs, leaning back against me.
“Skittish” hadn’t been the right word for her, either. She’d been nervous as hell, so nervous I’d been afraid at first she’d pull a runner on me. Beer helped with that, and now she was relaxed into me, eyes closed, head turned toward my chest so that my chin brushed her forehead. I’d have said she was asleep if it wasn’t for the little noises she made every time my fingers circled her nipples under her shirt, or slid down her stomach.
We’d pushed up the bra about ten minutes ago, and I’d explored down below just enough to know she wasn’t sopping wet for me yet . . . but she was getting there. This was a good thing, because my dick was harder than a rock and ready for more. I shifted my hips, sliding my erection against her back, and groaned.
Feeling her up in the firelight was great, but time to move things along.
I pulled out one hand, catching her chin and tilting it up for a kiss. God, she was sweet. She tasted like sunshine and beer, with a hint of tequila mixed in for good measure. I could tell she didn’t have a ton of experience, because when I slid my tongue into her mouth she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her own.
Turned me on in a big way, gotta admit.
“Becca, you should take him on upstairs, don’t you think?”
Teeny’s voice cut through the kiss, and Becca stiffened. She pulled away from me, shutting down so hard I could practically feel the arctic chill. Fuck. For an instant I gave serious consideration to killing Teeny. It’d taken me nearly an hour to get her to this point, and he was not going to fuck it up for me.
I stared him down, eyes narrow.
“Is there a reason you’re talking to her?”
He smirked.
“Just making sure it’s all good here.”
“Go away.”
“Take him upstairs, Becca.” If anything, she got more tense, and I groaned. Sure, I could just go find someone else. But I didn’t want anyone else, and this asshole was ruining things for me. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into me, tight, making it clear that she didn’t need to worry about Teeny.
“Now would be a real good time to disappear,” I told him, my voice full of a quiet menace designed to convey one message—fear. Becca shivered, which pissed me off. Been hard enough to get through to her, and now she had to see this. “Otherwise I’ll make it happen. Got me?”
Boonie came to stand next to us.
“We got a problem here?” he asked.
“No,” Teeny said, glaring at me and Becca. Then he turned and scuttled off like the fucking roach he was. She shivered, and I rubbed my hands up and down her arms.
“Don’t worry, babe,” I told her absently. “Thanks, Boonie.”
“No prob,” he muttered looking after Teeny. “Glad we’re leaving in the morning. There’s something wrong here—been a very educational trip.”
I nodded, although I didn’t have the full story. They’d fill me in later, so until then I’d just follow Boonie’s lead.
“Let’s go inside,” Becca said. “Find some privacy.”
She pulled free and stood up. This startled me, but I wasn’t exactly unhappy about the development. I lurched off-balance as I rose, and things were a little hazy around the edges. Wasn’t messing with my dick, though, so all good where it counted. She led me into the house and up the stairs to a small room in the back. It had a twin-size bed that was rumpled and stained. There was a puddle of beer spilled on the floor next to a turned-over bottle. More cups and bottles littered the area, and an ashtray was half full on the bedside table.
“Guess we aren’t the first ones looking for some privacy,” I commented, but I didn’t really care. Nope. I just shut the door and locked it. When I turned back, she’d already stripped down to her bra, and was busy unzipping her jeans.
Holy shit.
Becca was gorgeous.
I mean, I’d seen how pretty she was outside, but those sweet little boobs I’d been groping the last hour were even more perfect than I’d imagined. Somehow the fact that a plain cotton bra cradled them just enhanced the experience. Then she slid her pants off and I nearly died because I’d never seen anything sexier. I wanted to tie her down and take possession of every hole in her body. Twice.
Becca saw it all written in my face—clearly it scared her. She took a step back, and held up a hand. A deeply disturbing question flickered through my foggy brain.
“Are you a virgin?” I asked, the words tasting strange in my mouth. She gave a harsh laugh, then shook her head.
“No, I’m not a virgin.”
She reached behind to unhook her bra and I saw her nipples for the first time. Pink and pointy and gorgeous, exactly the right size for my mouth . . . I stepped toward her and she surprised me, dropping to her knees and reaching for my fly.
“How long has it been?” she asked, her voice almost businesslike. I groaned as she pushed down my jeans and briefs, cock springing free. I’d never been harder—wasn’t entirely sure I’d survive the next ten minutes. Fuck, would I even last ten minutes? Then her hand wrapped around me and I closed my eyes, reaching out to lean against the wall because otherwise I would’ve fallen flat on my ass.
She started out slow and steady, wrapping her fingers around me and rubbing up and down. After a minute she paused. I opened my eyes to see her peeking up at me as she licked her palm, looking older and more seductive than I’d pegged her before. Fuck. Fuck. Then her other hand reached down to cup my balls as she started working me again with all ten fingers.
I gasped, falling into the sensation again. Definitely wouldn’t be lasting that long, I realized. No way. But that was just fine, because tonight I had a lot more than one load saved up and ready to go.
“Use your mouth.”
She obeyed, opening up and taking me in, her tongue flicking at me expertly. Almost too expertly . . . weird, and a little surprising, given how she kissed. Then she sucked me deeper and I stopped thinking at all. Everything was warm and wet and fucking perfect.
Thirty seconds later I blew up in her mouth without warning. Hell, it caught me off guard, it happened so fast, and I cringed. Reaching down, I caught her hair in my hand, pulling out the rubber band holding it so the long, brown strands fell around her face. She stood, wiping her face with the back of her hand, soft brown eyes meeting mine.
She looked like an innocent little angel again.
“Becca, that was . . .” I didn’t have the words. God, I’d missed sex. Real sex, not just jacking off in my hand. Nothing in the world quite as sweet as the feel of hot wet woman wrapped around my dick.
She turned away, reaching down to grab a half-empty fifth of rotgut vodka off the bedside table, taking a big drink, and swishing it around her mouth. Then she spat it out on the floor so it mingled with the pooled beer before taking another swig.
Okay, not a total angel.
I reached out, and Becca handed the bottle to me wordlessly. Then she slid off her plain cotton panties and laid back on the bed.
“You ready?” she asked. I drank deep, my head spinning because I’d never been more ready for anything in my life. She didn’t look ready, though. Her eyes were distant, and when I kicked off my pants and stepped between her legs, I could see her body wasn’t with me, either.
Fortunately I knew how to fix that.
Pulling off my cut, I looked for somewhere safe to put it. The only available flat surface was the little table, but in the back corner was one of those hanging racks with some clothes on it. I walked over and grabbed a hanger, hung up the leather vest, and turned back to Becca.
She’d closed her eyes, and I’d have thought she was asleep if I didn’t know better. Fuck, maybe she’d passed out.
“You awake?”
She nodded her head.
“Yeah, just sort of drunk,” she muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”
Shrugging, I pulled off my shirt, then knelt down beside the bed and caught her legs up and over my shoulders. She squawked as I spread her pussy lips, giving her a long lick straight up to her clit.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, suddenly awake and alert. I licked her again, and Becca squirmed and gasped as her little nub started to harden for me. Nice. “Oh my God! I can’t believe how good that feels . . .”
She fell back on the bed as I got going. I love pussy. Of course, most men do, but not all of them love going down on a nice, juicy cunt as much as me. I licked and tickled, every once in a while giving a little nip as Becca came to life under me. I think she was trying to keep still at first, but no way was I having any of that shit. Nope. I wanted her soaking wet and screaming, because I planned to ride her hard the rest of the night.
Then I slid two fingers deep inside, searching for just the right spot as I sucked on her clit like candy. Found it on the first try, and she blew up around me, crying out and sobbing. I pulled away, grabbing a chunk of loose sheet to wipe off my mouth, and she moaned, little shivers running through her body.
I’d been hard for her before—almost constantly, even right after I’d come in her mouth—but that was nothing compared to my cock now. Fluid seeped from the tip, and I reached across the floor for my pants, pulling out a condom. Along the way the vodka caught my eye and I took another drink, following her lead as I swished out my mouth and spat on the floor.
The place was truly disgusting, but I’d spent fourteen months in prison so a little filth was the least of my concerns. Tilting back my head, I sucked down the rest of the booze, swaying as I stood. I caught her under the arms and scooted her up the bed before I slipped on the condom. Seconds later I pushed deep into her. Fuck, this had been the right call tonight, because—I shit you not—never felt anything that good before in my life.
She moaned and I caught her mouth with mine, kissing her hard and claiming her. This time I didn’t hold back. Nope. I just took as much as I could, savoring her sweet taste and wondering if she wanted to see Idaho . . . We’d be leaving in the morning, and the thought of throwing her on the back of my bike and taking her along worked for me in a big way.
Then she squeezed down on me hard and I stopped thinking altogether.* * *We slept for a while. Maybe we passed out. Dunno. Same difference. When I woke up, Becca was tucked into my side, one leg thrown over mine. Her hair trailed across my chest and her breath tickled my skin.
That’s all it took.
I rolled her over onto her stomach, sliding a pillow under her hips and spreading her legs before grabbing a condom. She murmured, not really talking, but the sounds coming out of her mouth weren’t unhappy when I found her clit again. Seconds later I pushed into her. I’m sure some man—somewhere in history—had enjoyed the feel of a woman’s cunt more than I did in that moment. Hard to imagine how, though.
I’d taken off the edge earlier and now that I had her nice and warmed up, I was ready to do this thing for real. Grabbing her hips, I pulled back and slammed deep. Becca screamed and stiffened, now well and truly awake. Fuck, so hot and slick . . . I started pumping in and out of her hard, loving how she convulsed around me. Her arms reached out, clawing the sheets, and I lowered myself across her back, using my knees to spread her legs out even wider. Then I caught her hands in mine, nipping at the back of her neck before groaning into her ear.
“Reach down below and finger your clit.”
“I can’t,” she gasped. I paused, catching her hand and shoving it down beneath her stomach as I lifted my weight. We found her clit together, then I shoved back into her roughly.
“Oh my God . . .” she moaned. “That’s incredible.”
Damn straight.
“Now keep it there,” I ordered. “You’re going to come for me at least twice, got it?”
She nodded into the sheets and I pulled my hand free, bracing myself as I started moving again. It wasn’t gentle, but that was okay because I felt how wet and slick she was around me. Tight, too. Even better than I’d imagined back in my cell, and I have a hell of a good imagination. I leaned up on my elbows, catching her hair and jerking it back because I get off on that shit. Each twist of my hips took me closer, and when she started convulsing around me and crying, I nearly lost it. Not quite, though. I wasn’t finished.
Mouth. Cunt. Ass.
I’d planned it all out in my head, dreamed about it for months . . . Now I finally had the staying power to finish it. As she shuddered and trembled, I pulled free and sat back on my heels. Becca’s ass spread wide in front of me, and I smiled because it was fucking gorgeous. Heart shaped, pretty. Not too big, but not fucking skinny and nasty like a half-starved donkey, either.
Christ, I wanted to fuck her there.
My cock was still wrapped tight and dripping with her juices, but I spat into my hand a couple times for good measure, slathering it on for a little extra lube. Then caught her hips and pulled her up and onto her knees.
“Brace yourself.”
She nodded, stretching out her arms in front of her like a cat, which was cute but totally inadequate under the circumstances. I caught her hair again, yanking her head to the side. Becca gasped.
“I said brace yourself,” I repeated. “Gonna fuck your ass now.”
She squawked, and her entire body stiffened.
“That a problem?” I asked. She shook her head quickly.
“No, do it.”
Shit, could she sound less enthusiastic? I stilled, realizing my prison dream girl might not be up for the full porno fantasy in living color. Fuck.
“It’s okay,” I said, pulling back. I closed my eyes, running a hand through my hair and shuddering. I’d just fuck her cunt some more. I could do that. Then she shocked the hell out of me by reaching around behind to grab my cock. She pushed back with her hips, awkwardly trying to guide me to her asshole, which was funny and pathetic at the same time.
Because I’m a shitty human being, I went for it. Not a complete dick, though. I could see the tension radiating off her.
“You never done this before?” I asked her. She shook her head violently, not looking at me.
“Okay, we’ll go slow.”
She nodded this time, but she still didn’t give me her eyes. It bothered me for some reason, although why, I had no fucking idea. I dug my fingers deep into her hair, twisting her head around enough to kiss her. Hard. My tongue dug deep, forcing her to kiss me back and, I shit you not, I felt like fireworks were going off in my head. Clichéd as all fuck, but there you have it. After long seconds we came up for air, and I stared into her eyes, seeing how her pupils grew wide.
Slowly, steadily I found her opening with my cockhead, pushing in as she gasped.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, eyes wide, her lips trembling. I held her there, my heart beating so hard I thought it might come right out of my chest as I pushed down deep. She was tight—really tight. Sure as hell hadn’t been lying when she’d said she’d never done this before. I sank into her for what felt like forever before I hit bottom, balls resting against her pussy. Her heartbeat pulsed around my cock and I realized that I would be happy to die in that moment. That’s how good it was.
Becca closed her eyes and turned her face into the covers, spasming around me. I didn’t like the position—I wanted to watch her face— but she seemed to need some privacy. I got it. I’ve never been a nice, vanilla kind of guy, but this was a different kind of intensity than even I was used to. No screaming, no scratching, no fighting with each other until we both lost our minds . . . No, this was powerful on a whole new level, and looking into her eyes the whole time was probably too much for me, too.
I pulled back out, then slid in again. She gasped.
“Play with your clit some more.”
She nodded without speaking, burrowing her hand back down until she found her target. I started moving, going slowly and carefully at first. But it felt really good, and I’ve never been one to take things slow and careful.
Looking back, I can’t decide if that’s when things really fell to shit, or if they’d been falling to shit all along and I was just too stupid to see it. Never have figured that one out, but what happened next was not my finest hour. I started moving faster. It felt fucking amazing. She felt fucking amazing. Then I was pounding her and she was shuddering and I thought she was coming and it was perfect.
Becca sobbed suddenly. Loud. Not a pretty crying kind of noise, and not one of those moans bitches give when they’re getting off so hard they can’t quite control themselves.
No.
This was the kind of noise a puppy makes when you kick it, and I felt it all the way down to my gut like a knife ripping me open.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
I pulled out and caught her up and into my arms. She flinched and I hated myself, because even like that she was soft and pretty and I just wanted to keep nailing her ass. Becca knew it, too, because she tried to pull away from the press of my cock against her back. More sobs escaped and tears rolled down her face and I knew for a fact that I’d burn in hell for this.
Rubbing her head, I tried to think of soothing noises. Instead I was full of questions. Why had she let me do it?
‘Cause you’re a pushy, scary bastard.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I told her, my head starting to spin. Shouldn’t have drunk so much. I had no idea what time it was, no idea how long we’d been up here . . . I heard noises outside, the sounds of music and the party still going, but that didn’t mean much. A good party could last all night and into the next morning.
“It’s okay,” she finally managed to whisper, and I bit back a harsh laugh because that was a huge fucking lie and we both knew it. Then she did something that blew me away. Becca turned in my arms and pushed me down onto my back. Seconds later she had the condom off and was sucking me deep again, which made no fucking sense at all.
Unfortunately my dick wasn’t the sensitive, caring type because it really didn’t care that she was clearly so scared and drunk off her ass she’d lost touch with reality.
I could’ve stopped her.
I should’ve stopped her.
Instead I sank my fingers into her hair and blew up into her mouth and it was even better than the first time. The room was seriously spinning all around me as she tucked into my arm and stroked my chest.
“Tell him I did good, okay?” she whispered. “Just tell him I did good. Please?”
I passed out, wondering what the fuck she was talking about.* * *

My bladder was about to explode.
Needed to pee. Maybe rinse out my mouth, too, because it tasted like something died in there and that was not an exaggeration. Shifting, I realized that Becca was still tucked into me, sleeping heavily. I managed to crack my eyes open, blinking. Faint light was creeping in through the window, although even now I could still hear music down below.
Great. Gonna be a long ride home with no sleep. Sliding carefully out from under Becca, I stood and pulled on my pants. My shirt had fallen into the sticky puddle of beer and vodka, so I stumbled out of the room half naked. The door across the hall was locked, although from the smell it had to be the bathroom—either that or people had started pissing and vomiting in the bedrooms, which I supposed wasn’t entirely impossible. Felt great to be back with my brothers, but our hosts kind of sucked ass. Bunch of assholes and meth heads, so far as I could tell. No wonder Boonie didn’t trust them.
I walked down the stairs into the living room, where despite the fact that music still blared, people were passed out all over the place. My brother Deep leaned back against the bar separating the living room from the kitchen area, arms crossed, a look of faint disgust on his face.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“You look like death. Have fun up there?”
I shrugged, feeling like an asshole.
“She’s perfect,” I said. “But I think I hurt her.”
His eyes narrowed.
“We got a situation? Should I go get Boonie?”
Shit.
“No, not like that,” I said quickly. “I mean, I think I pushed her too far. Tried to fuck her ass, and it didn’t go over so well. She’s okay, but I still feel like a douche.”
“We got a girl who’s gonna cry rape?” he asked quickly, and I snorted.
“Probably should,” I replied. “She told me to do it, though. Afterward she sucked me off. Feels wrong, somehow.”
“You want another drink?” I turned to see Teeny standing there, his beady eyes bright and full of something I couldn’t quite follow. God, I hated him—he was like a cockroach that wasn’t smart enough to stay out of the light.
Anger replaced my disgust. He needed to leave me the fuck alone.
“Are you serious?” I asked him, turning and cracking my knuckles. The fight with Painter had taken off my edge, but it’d come back again as I told Deep about Becca. Hitting someone— anyone—would feel good, but hitting this guy? That’d be a flat-out pleasure. “God, don’t you ever go away? Fucking piece of shit!”
I started toward him, but Deep caught my arm, pulling me back.
“Careful, bro,” he said quietly. “This isn’t about him. You’re pissed about the girl. Pick your battles, because there’s a lot more Longnecks than Reapers and Bastards combined. All he did was offer you a drink.”
Fuck. I breathed deep, looking at the scared little shit and wishing desperately he’d do something—anything—to give me an excuse to take him down. My brothers would back me no matter what, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think there wouldn’t be a price for my actions.
“I’m going back to bed,” I said after a tense minute or so, pulling free. “Talk to you later, brother.”
Deep nodded, watching Teeny as I turned and stalked back up the stairs. This time the bathroom door was open. Sure enough, someone had missed the toilet, and I felt my own stomach heave sympathetically. For a sec there I thought I might lose it. Then I pulled it together enough to piss without barfing. Afterward, I turned to look at myself in the mirror. As always, the face looking back at me was ugly as fuck. Dark, ragged hair. Scar cutting across my face. Nose that’d been broken at least four times now . . .
Shit, no wonder Becca had been scared of me—I looked like a fuckin’ serial killer. I wanted to punch the mirror and break it into a thousand pieces, which would accomplish even less than beating the shit out of Teeny.
Instead I went back into the room and found her still sound asleep on the bed. Her skin was pale and fragile, dark shadows ringing her eyes. Still gorgeous, but younger and more frail-looking now. Christ. What had I done? I crawled back into bed with her, sure I’d never get to sleep. I’d underestimated how much booze was still floating around in my system, because everything went dark again.

* * *

This time the sun was bright and harsh. I blinked, trying to remember where I was . . . Then it all came back and I looked around, wondering where my girl went.
Shit. Becca was gone.
What the hell really happened last night? I sat up, spotting my colors hanging from a rack next to . . . school uniforms? Fuck, some kid must live in this room, I realized. That’d suck, coming home to a mess like this. I turned and lowered my feet on the far side of the bed, figuring I’d open the window to air things out, check the lay of the land in the process. I stepped on a pile of books, which fell over. I reached down to pick one up.
Textbook.
I picked up another. Shit, it was another textbook, and under that was a notebook. That’s when I started to get a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach—something I wouldn’t have pegged as possible, given how shitty I already felt about how the night had played out.
The notebook opened in my hands, and I saw the name Becca Jones written on the top of the front page, along with English: First Period and the date.
Below were notes.
Maybe she was in college, I thought desperately. Please, fuck . . . let her be in college. A piece of colored paper fell to the ground, and I dropped the notebook to pick it up.
What I saw nearly made me throw up.
It was a flyer for a dance—a high school dance.
Becca was still in school. Jailbait. The fuck? It didn’t add up . . . Then her last words to me sank in, and it all added up far too well.
“Tell him I did good, okay? Just tell him I did good. Please?”

* * *

I flew down the stairs half dressed, my boots thudding loudly. My shirt was filthy from her floor, but my cut was still fine—safe and sound after a night spent hanging next to Becca’s little school dresses. Fucking piece of shit pimp Teeny.
Had to be him.
This was his house. Who the hell was she? His kid? What the fuck kind of asshole pimped out his own daughter? But shit, I guess it happened all the time, all over the world. About halfway down I heard her scream, which should’ve woken up everyone all over the goddamned house. Most of them were still passed out drunk, though. I heard more shouts outside and knew my brothers were probably coming.
That turned out to be a good thing, because I came damned close to ending a man’s life that day—fucking craptastic way to start parole . . .
Teeny stood in the center of the kitchen, Becca huddled at his feet as he kicked her. Then he whacked her across the head with a fucking soup pot, of all things, and I lost my shit.
“You cocksucking asshole!” I shouted, launching myself at him.
“Fucking twat! I’ll kill you!”
My fists destroyed his face with a crunch. It felt good— cathartic.
He fell like a bag of concrete and some part of my brain noted vaguely that Becca was scrabbling away from us, chunks of her long hair torn loose and left on the floor. Blood, too. Another woman shouted and tugged at her, but I didn’t turn to look.
Nope. I had work to do.
Specifically, I needed to kill Teeny with my bare hands. Then I’d tear him apart and eat his heart. Raw. He screamed like a bitch the whole time, and I heard Boonie yelling in the background. Then they hauled me off his ass, kicking and fighting because I’d well and truly lost my shit.
“What the fuck is happening here?” Picnic Hayes demanded. Beside him stood one of the Longnecks, a guy who looked a fuckuva lot like Teeny and I realized this must be the brother who was part of the club. Bax.
Bax wasn’t a happy camper. Fair enough. I was pretty fucking unhappy myself.
Teeny moaned on the floor, rolling onto his back, and I spat at him. Then I heard a sobbing noise—one that’d already been burned into my brain. Becca was crying, and I looked over to find her huddled up against Teeny’s old lady.
Shit. I hadn’t seen it before because the woman was so nasty and used up, but under that scrawny, tweaker body was an older copy of Becca. Had to be her mother . . . Even with the meth eating her, though, she seemed too young. If that was the mother, she must’ve had Becca really fucking early.
“She his daughter?” I asked her, my voice like a knife. The woman shook her head quickly, lips quivering. “You let him pimp her out?”
She looked away.
“Damn,” Picnic said. “This is a hell of a clusterfuck.”
“I’m not leaving her here. He’ll kill her.”
Pic shook his head slowly, thoughtfully, but I could see it in his face—he knew I was right.
“Yeah, she can come with us,” he said. “You up for that, Boon?”
My president nodded, eyes never leaving the huddled mass of blood and human filth crying on the floor.
“We’ll head out in twenty minutes,” Boonie said decisively. “Anyone got a problem with that?”
He looked around the room in challenge, and several of the Longnecks glanced away—apparently they weren’t going to stand up for Teeny. Said a hell of a lot about them in general and Teeny in particular. I mean, I was glad that we weren’t fighting our way out, but that’s just pathetic. They were happy to party with him. When it came time to take his back, they were out.
“C’mon, let’s go upstairs and grab some of your shit,” I said to Becca, reaching toward her. She gave a little scream and pushed back with her feet, sliding across the floor to get away from me. Fuck.
“I’ll get her ready,” her mother said suddenly. Her voice quavered, but her eyes were resolute as they met mine. “She’ll go with you—just get her away from here. He’ll hurt her bad for this. Real bad.”
I nodded, watching as she drew her daughter to her feet, then pushed her toward the stairwell.
“Jesus, you can sure pick ’em,” Boonie said. “How old you think she is?”
“She’s still in high school,” I said, my voice grim. “Fairly certain I’m up for statutory if this goes down wrong.”
“Damn,” Painter said, coming up behind me. “That’s fast work—usually takes a little longer to violate parole, bro.”
I met his gaze, and for once his face didn’t hold even a hint of mockery. Fuck. This was really bad.
“Outside,” Picnic said sharply. “Horse, Ruger—you stay here. Make sure the girl gets out safe, okay?”
He caught my arm and pulled me toward the door. Boonie flanked us, and I sensed real danger beneath their calm expressions. We walked over to the bikes as the others scrambled to grab their shit and pack up.
“I won’t leave her,” I told them again. “I know she’s scared of me, but I don’t give a fuck. That girl’ll die if she stays here.”
“Not gonna leave her,” Pic said. “But we do need to get out fast, before they have time to figure out what happened and get pissed off. They decide to fight for her, things’ll get ugly. Not sure we can take ’em.”
“Thanks for standing with me.”
Boonie snorted.
“You’re our brother, Puck,” he said, his voice casual. “This is what we do. You went down for us, you think we aren’t prepared to do the same for you? Now pull your shit together. We can put the girl in the truck with the prospects, or you can take her on your bike. No time to fuck around.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I watched as Horse, Becca, and her mom walked out of the house. At least thirty members of the Longnecks MC stood watching, talking quietly among themselves. I kept waiting for one of them to reach for a gun or challenge us, but they didn’t.
No sign of Teeny.
Becca had stopped crying, but her face was still covered in tear-smeared blood, and nasty bruises were popping up all over. Her breath sounded wheezy, too, and I hoped to hell she didn’t have broken ribs.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, catching at her mom’s arm. “I want to stay with you.”
“You’re getting out,” the woman replied, her eyes hard and calculating. “Let him cool off, then we’ll talk. Figure something out.”
Becca shook her head, but when I caught her arm gently she let me pull her away.
“You want to ride in the truck or on my bike?”
Becca glanced at the truck, eyes widening at the sight of two Reaper prospects. “I’ll stay with you.”
I nodded and climbed on my bike, eyes alert as I monitored our audience. She climbed up behind me, and then her mother gave a satisfied nod. Becca wrapped her arms around me and I felt her tits press tight against my back. My cock stirred to life. What the fucking hell was wrong with me?
“How old are you?” I asked, my voice low.
“Sixteen.”
Shit.
“Like, you’re almost seventeen?”
“No, I turned sixteen last week.”
Double shit.
Boonie kicked his bike to life, and we followed his lead, pulling away from the house in formation.
So that’s the story of how I committed statutory rape less than twenty-four hours out of prison—on my birthday, no less. In retrospect, I probably should’ve stayed inside, served out my full five-year term. Would’ve been less work for everyone.

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joanna wylde

 

About the author:

Joanna Wylde is a New York Times bestselling author and creator of the Reapers Motorcycle Club series. She currently lives in Idaho.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Rock Star

Bring On The Dusk by M.L. Buchman….Tour of Duty Guest Post, Review, & Giveaway

Dusk cover

 

Synopsis:

Name: Claudia Jean Casperson
Rank: Captain, SOAR – 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (Airborne)
Motto: Night Stalkers Don’t Quit

Name: Michael Gibson
Rank: Colonel, Delta Force – Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta (“The Unit”)
Motto: Without Equal
Mission: To go together where no one else can, and to get out alive with no one the wiser

Five nations surround the Caspian Sea, five nations desperate for the vast resources there, and willing to go to war. It will take all of Claudia and Michael’s ingenuity to avert disaster. As they discover how right they are for each other, it will take even more to breach the walls they’ve so carefully built around their hearts…    

Guest Post:

The Warrior Most Likely… by M.L. Buchman

 

I’m currently celebrating the release of the sixth book in my Night Stalkers military romantic suspense series Bring On The Dusk. In the story, long-time team member Colonel Michael Gibson of Delta Force finally finds true love with pilot Captain Claudia Casperson.

 

Each book in the series has followed the battles and loves of members of the real-world’s U.S. Army’s 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment. These are the best helicopter pilots and crew on the planet, far in advance of even our closest allies.

 

The fictitious 5th Battalion D Company was founded by Major Mark Henderson and it is he who has overseen the building of the unit. But in many ways it is the wife he met in Book #1 The Night is Mine who has overseen the lives and loves of those who fly for the 5D. In six books, there has been a wide variety of personalities and skills.

 

One of the unexpected joys of having the opportunity to build a cast over the course of six books (and yes, there is already a 7th in planning) is learning more about them as each book progresses. Even though Emily and Mark were book #1, Kee and Archie book #2 I Own the Dawn, or Trisha and Bill book #5 Light Up the Night, both the writer and the reader learn more about them as we go. It’s part of the joy of the journey.

 

So fans look back and ask: Who Is The Warrior Most Likely To …

·         … use the ejection seat from their helicopter after a dangerous run in with enemies?

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, there is only 1 helicopter (excluding James Bond) that has an ejection seat, the Russian Kamov Ka-50 assault helicopter. The problem is that if you eject upward, you hit the rotors. (The Kamov carries heavy explosives to sever the blades and a heavier rocket seat to eject the pilot.) If you eject downwards, well helos tend to fly very low so you’re going to be propelled straight into the ground.

All that aside, who is the warrior most likely to get his butt shot out of the sky…but survive? Major Mark Henderson takes the cake on that one. He’s shot down over Uzbekistan in I Own the Dawn(where it is noted that it is far from his first time). He also trashes a perfectly good stealth Black Hawk inTake Over at Midnight. I often think the only reason he didn’t crash more of them was because left the military to fly in the Firehawks firefighting series. In that, he flies his command plane with his kid aboard and Emily would kill him if he crashed with her aboard!

·         …not wait for backup?

Lola LaRue Maloney and her husband Tim are always pushing the limits. Are they that stupid, nope, they’re that good. Just check them out in Take Over at Midnight or Light Up the Night.

·         …decorate their military living quarters with pictures of their significant other?

Curiously I think this is the notoriously unsentimental Sergeant Kee Stevenson…and it would surprise her no end when you pointed it out. Her best friend Connie from Wait Until Dark would have mechanical diagrams on her walls. Michael and Claudia from Bring On the Dusk would each carry a small picture of the other next to their hearts.

But Kee had no past and keeps being surprised at having Archie and Dilya in her life and is fascinated each time the moment is captured. She remains herself, but it is a part of her that she doesn’t recognize, the big heart that she wears right on her sleeve.

And now for a fun one!

 

·         Who is the most likely to have a little too much fun celebrating a successful mission and end up karaoke-ing the night away?

I think this would fall to “The Girls of the Night Stalkers.” I can just see them in a band like Donna and The Dynamos in “Mamma Mia.” Trisha and Lola completely leading the way. Connie checking their sound balance. Kee beat boxing in the background, but only after she’s had at least a half a beer. Claudia dragged reluctantly onstage for the sweet ballads, and slipping away at the first opportunity. And Emily, sitting back with Mark, a kid on a her lap, and a clear expression that informs her friends that she wishes them all the best and says “Don’t even think about it.”

My review:

Bring On The Dusk is the sixth book in author M.L. Buchman’s Night Stalker Series, a series I have loved since stumbling upon a few years earlier. With each book I grow to love the series more and more and with Bring On The Duck, I have found my favorite in the series thus far. Claudia and Michael’s story was beautiful and thrilling. I loved everything about it.

Captain Claudia Jean Casperson is the newest pilot and member of SOAR, the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment. This is something she has dreamed of her entire life and now she had finally made it. She had been bitten by the flight bug when she was just a little girl and the need to fly had never left her. Since then, she had worked hard though Annapolis and the Marine Corps to make it to where she is right now. She took pride in her skill and pride in always being prepared. Pride in her ability to assess situations and remain level-headed and in control. Most of that had earned her the nickname “The Ice Queen”, but she hadn’t really minded much. It kept the men at bay and when it came to military men, that was fine by her. That all changed when Colonel Michael Gibson got into her helicopter and into her life…

Colonel Michael Gibson excelled at what he did. He didn’t get to be his rank in Delta Force without excelling. He loved the solo aspect of his missions. He had always been a solo kind of guy and enjoyed things that way. No attachments. It kept his life light and simple. Like his childhood had been in the Redwood tress of Oregon. He liked blending in and no one taking notice of him. One, because he didn’t crave the spotlight and two, because he could take more of his surroundings and the people in his presence when he was quietly observing from the shadows. People had always been interesting to him but no one had ever captured his attention more than the SOAR pilot that had picked him up the night before. Claudia Jean Casperson was a woman and pilot like no one he had ever known. There was a quiet grace about her that matched his own. Captain Casperson just may be the only woman who had the ability to make him want more…

The immediate attraction and pull between Claudia and Michael is something neither one can ignore. It’s strong and powerful and something neither one has ever experienced before. But when a black in black mission comes their way, their budding relationship will be put to the test when one of them may not make it back alive…

There is just something about the way author Buchman wrote these characters that made my heart sing. Michael has a quiet and intense way about him that drew me in from the very start. It’s quite opposite of the way one would think a Delta Colonel would be. He isn’t one to brag or stand in the spotlight. He isn’t one to act the macho part. I loved that about him. Claudia is equally amazing. She is strong, determined, and goes after what she wants at every turn. Especially when it came to Michael. I loved that she was willing to take charge and risk her heart when it came to him. Together they are quite dynamic. They balance each other out beautifully and there is a light humor and banter between them that comes out every now and then that had me chuckling. They truly just got one another on a different level. One of my favorite parts that I must mention is when Michael takes Claudia to the redwood tress he grew up in…that bit of this story will stay with me for a long time. That was the point I really fell in love with these two characters. There was laughter, frustration, emotion, and plenty of heat.

While the writing in this book is heavier on the technical military aspect than other books in this genre, it’s always balanced out well with well-developed characters and plenty of emotion. Thank you, Mr. Buchman, for another amazing addition to the Night Stalker series!

4andahalflovesFour-and-a-Half Loves

 

Book links:

Amazon  |  B&N  |  Goodreads  | iTunes

About the author:

M. L. Buchman has over a dozen romances and more than 30 books in print (he also writes science fiction and fantasy). His full name, Matthew Lieber Buchman, translates as Matthew Beloved Book Man, no wonder he’s a writer. It didn’t jump him until he’d tried a “few” other careers. He has worked decades (yes, really) as a corporate project manager in 7 different industries. In among that, he has: rebuilt and single-handed a fifty-foot sailboat, both flown and jumped out of airplanes, designed and built two houses, and bicycled solo around the world. He is now making his living full-time as a writer, scribbling away with his wife on the Oregon Coast. You may keep up with his writing at www.mlbuchman.com.

 

Social Media: 

Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter | Youtube

 

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Skip To The Good Part Vol. 4….Release Day Event

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It’s release day for Skip to the Good Part Vol 4!! Check out all the fantastic details of this sexy anthology and make sure to grab your copy at it’s introductory price!!

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Skip to the Good Part Vol 4 Synopsis:

sttgp4-mediumFind your next red-hot read in this sizzling collection of sexy scenes. Volume Four offers even more great reads.

Skip to the Good Part 4: 20 Authors Reveal Their Steamiest Scenes offers face-fanning romance and tie-me-up sizzle (and everything in between) from top authors including New York Times and USA Today bestsellers.

This collection features a hostage who finds kinky ménages with her captors more exciting than her family’s sheep farm, a culinary student who is secretly hot for another guy in his class, a male escort who falls for his beautiful but innocent neighbor, an aspiring lawyer who doesn’t have time for a temptingly hot mechanic, and a woman who’s fallen in love—and lust—with a werewolf.

Read 20 of the best steamy scenes in steamy and erotic romance today. This 250-page collection will get your blood pumping, your heart racing, and your skin tingling. You’re sure to discover a new favorite.

Due to the graphic nature of some content, this collection is recommended strictly for mature readers.

New York Times bestsellers:

Emma Hart

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Marquita Valentine

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Viola Rivard USA Today bestsellers: Lili Saint Germain

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Featuring: Carlie Sexton

Liv Morris

Jami Denise

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Eileen Griffin and Nikka Michaels

Sarina Bowen

Riley Edgewood

Allison Rushby

Sera Bright

Grace Whidby

Angela Corbett

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Links:

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Holding Strong by Lori Foster….Coming Soon

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An up-and-coming MMA fighter wants more than just one night from a woman fleeing her past in Lori’s irresistible new novel.

Heavyweight fighter Denver Lewis plays real nice, but he doesn’t share. That’s why he’s been avoiding top-notch flirt Cherry Peyton. But a man can only resist those lush curves for so long. Their encounter surpasses all his fantasies, bringing out protective urges that Cherry’s about to need more than she knows…

Denver’s combination of pure muscle and unexpected tenderness has been driving Cherry wild. Yet no sooner does she get what she’s been craving than old troubles show up on her doorstep. And this time, Cherry can’t hide behind a carefree façade. Because the man by her side is one who’ll fight like hell to keep her safe…if only she’ll trust him enough to let him…

Holding Strong will have you holding your breath while burning fingers quickly turn the pages.”

Fresh Fiction

“…a fun and sexy read. It has a touch of suspense to it as well to keep the pace of the story going along.”

It’s a Reading Thing

“The men of Foster’s Ultimate series may be powerful fighters, but they are all heart, and none more so than the hero of this installment. His unwavering support for his feisty, frightened heroine redeems them both in time, but it is their searing chemistry that will hold readers’ attention.”

RT Book Reviews

“Foster…manages to keep characters evolving throughout the course of a novel, becoming true ‘heroes’ by the time ‘The End’ rolls around.”

Ripe for Reader

Since first publishing in January 1996, Lori Foster has
become a USA Today, Publisher’s Weekly and New York Times bestselling author.
Lori has published through a variety of houses, including Kensington, St.
Martin’s, Harlequin, Silhouette, Samhain, and Berkley/Jove. She is currently
published with HQN.
Lori hosts a very special annual “Reader & Author” event
in West Chester, Ohio. Proceeds from the event have benefited many worthy
causes, including the Hamilton County YWCA Battered Women’s Shelter, the Animal
Adoption Foundation, The Conductive Learning Center for children with spina
bifida and cerebral palsy, and The One Way Farm, Children’s Home.
Each year Lori donates all proceeds from one book to
charity. You can see the benefit romance books here :http://lorifoster.com/benefit-books/

Rock Hard by Nalini Singh….Book Tour Stop, Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

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Meet Gabriel (sexy rugby player turned CEO) & Charlotte in this fantastic addition to the Rock Kiss Series!

NOW AVAILABLE!

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  iBooks  |  Nook  |  Kobo

Synopsis:

In New York Times Bestselling author Nalini Singh’s newest contemporary romance, passion ignites between a gorgeous, sinfully sexy man who built himself up from nothing and a shy woman who has a terrible secret in her past…

Wealthy businessman Gabriel Bishop rules the boardroom with the same determination and ruthlessness that made him a rock star on the rugby field. He knows what he wants, and he’ll go after it no-holds-barred.

And what he wants is Charlotte Baird.

Charlotte knows she’s a mouse. Emotionally scarred and painfully shy, she just wants to do her job and remain as invisible as possible. But the new CEO—a brilliant, broad-shouldered T-Rex of a man who growls and storms through the office, leaving carnage in his wake—clearly has other plans. Plans that may be equal parts business and bedroom.

If Charlotte intends to survive this battle of wits and hearts, the mouse will have to learn to wrangle the T-Rex. Game on.

 

My Review:

Rock Hard is the second book in author Nalini Singh’s Rock Kiss Series, and sadly, the first in the series I have read. Yes, I know…I can’t believe it either. Where have I been that I have not scooped up this series yet? Clearly living under a rock. I must get my hands on the other book and novella in this series because after devouring Rock Hard, I am 100% hooked. I have loved Ms. Singh’s paranormal work and now The Rock Kiss series is my new obsession.

Charlotte Baird has been living one way for the past few years…in the shadows. She had always been a bit on the shy side but there were a few events in her life that lead her to hide these days. The loss of both of her parents coupled with the first relationship she ever had turning into something true nightmares are made of had helped make her want to blend in with the walls. If no one noticed her, she would be safe. If no one wanted to see her, she would be able to keep to herself and in turn, keep herself safe. The problem with that was there is always someone who is willing to take notice….and right now that happens to be the devastatingly handsome new CEO of her company. He figured out she had been doing the work of her superior in an effort to just keep her job and stay in the background. He figured out she had a brilliantly colorful mind underneath her drab and plain exterior. Never one to make waves, she had no clue how to react to the offer for a new position as his personal assistant. He had a previous reputation on the rugby field as one hell of a ferocious competitor and the current reputation as one hell of a competitor in the board room. She was more than afraid she would be no match for his personality and that he would chew her up and spit her out. She couldn’t have been more wrong…

Gabriel Bishop has always gotten what he wants. Always. He learned as a small boy that even the most destitute of situations can be changed for the better with a whole lot of determination and hard work. It’s that childhood that drives him to be the best. He had been the best in the pro rugby circuit and after a career ending injury he was now the best in the corporate business world. All that fame and fortune had made women an easy game. Well, for every woman except his new PA, Charlotte Baird. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. A puzzle he wanted to figure out. He had no idea the delight he would get in the flirtatious game he had now started with her…nor did he have any idea how much she would grow to mean to him. He knew how to keep his eye on the prize and work for his reward no matter how long it took. And he knew with Charlotte, it would take more time than he spent on any other woman in his life. He had no doubt she would be worth it…

What starts out as a pretty straight forward, and tense at times, working relationship quickly turns into a delicious power play between the predator and the prey. The greatest part with the back and forth between Charlotte and Gabriel is when the roles switch and the prey becomes the predator…owning every move the predator makes. And what a delicious dance it becomes…

I am in serious book hangover mode right now. I freaking loved everything about this book. Gabriel is a total dichotomy when it comes to his outward persona and the man he keeps hidden underneath the gruff exterior. From the very beginning he laid plans to win Charlotte. She had no idea and the way he presented it all to her as they bobbed and weaved in their flirtatious relationship was simply adorable. She had no idea he was planning for so long just to kiss her. Had no idea he was waiting for her to come around. He knew there had to be a reason she was so skittish and, bless that insanely patient man, he was willing to do what it took to gain her trust. If I can count the amount of times I swooned over that man, it has to be in the hundreds. Charlotte is unlike any heroine I’ve read. She is brave, accepting, determined, complex, and broken. I admired her tenacity in picking up the pieces of her broken life and just wanting a sense of normalcy. Luckily, she will have Gabriel to help her along the way. These two together are simply wonderful. Charlotte has a dry sense of humor and gives right back when Gabriel pushes. Gabriel, unused to that, takes it all in stride and plays along with her. I loved every single one of their interactions and their growing attraction and budding relationship was beautiful to read. There are many stumbles along the way, but because both Gabriel and Charlotte want things to work, I knew they could make great things happen. The amount of love I have for these two is HUGE!

Ms. Singh truly knocked my socks off. Her writing makes the characters real and relatable. We are along for the emotional ride with them and I loved it. Oh, and the chapter titles? The. Best. It was that bit of humor that brought lightness to the dark parts in this book and the balance was fantastic.

Hopefully I haven’t bored you to tears and that you’ve made it this far…because you really need to read this book. Thank you, Ms. Singh, for giving us Gabriel and Charlotte and all of the beauty their unique relationship is. I cannot wait to see what you have in store for us next! (fingers crossed it includes Gabriel’s brothers….)

5LovesRLBFive Loves

 

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Excerpt:

Charlotte arrived at work at seven thirty the next morning to find Gabriel Bishop’s office door open, but no carnivorous predator inside. A fresh suit was hanging on the back of his door, however, which meant he’d been in already.

Deciding to catch up on e-mails that had come in overnight from international suppliers as well as stores involved in a stock take, she was typing a reply when a sweaty Gabriel arrived fifteen minutes later. He was dressed in black running shorts and a faded University of Auckland T-shirt that was currently sticking to his body.

She’d known he was in shape, but now she realized none of it was an illusion created by his well-cut suits. Okay, she’d already known that, but seeing his muscled body in the flesh was a whole different ball game. He was built like a tank, hard and powerful.

Each of his thighs was thicker than both of hers put together, his biceps toned, his shoulders appearing even wider than usual. Everything about him was big. Civilized clothing didn’t make him look better, she realized—it toned down his intense masculinity. Out of his suits, with the ink on the upper part of his left arm exposed, as well as that on his opposing thigh and…

Her skin hot and lower body clenching, she just nodded in response to his “Good morning.”

Disappearing into his office, he returned with his suit pants and a fresh shirt slung over his arm, along with a sports bag. “Push the meeting with Sales to nine, will you, Ms. Baird? I need to talk to HR about something before then.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlotte said almost soundlessly, but he was already gone, heading toward the employee shower one floor down.

The thigh tattoo went all the way around, the design intricate.

Heart rate a rapid stutter, Charlotte got up after he disappeared and decided to go grab him a coffee. He’d bought her one yesterday after all. She was just being nice. “Oh, shut up, Charlotte,” she muttered once she was in the elevator, and slumped her face into an upraised hand.

The truth was she was running away. Only for a few minutes, but that’s what this was: strategic retreat. Gabriel Bishop was overwhelming. Once, before she’d ever met him and under the influence of cocktails, she’d told Molly she wanted to rip off his shirt and sink her teeth into his pecs.

That desire hadn’t waned even now that she knew he was a T-Rex. Of course, the desire was all strictly in her imagination. The idea of actually handling him in real life? So impossible as to be laughable. Charlie-mouse was not about to play with a predator who could eat her alive and not even notice the bones. The good news was that she could admire him in relative safety—there was no chance in hell he’d ever notice her as a woman.

Getting the coffee from a nearby café, she took it back upstairs. He was in his office when she entered, the striped dark gray of his tie hanging around his neck and his damp hair roughly combed. The scent of clean, fresh soap over warm skin permeated the office. Shooting her a smile that turned him from gorgeous to flat-out devastating, he flipped up the collar of his white shirt to get the tie in place. “Thank you, Ms. Baird.”

Nodding, Charlotte escaped, though she really wanted to stay. She’d never realized how erotic it was to watch a man dress until this precise moment. And she shouldn’t be having these thoughts about her boss—especially since she couldn’t keep from quivering like a rabbit in his presence. Sometimes she just annoyed herself.

“Get to work,” she muttered and knuckled down.

Gabriel was fine for the first hour, but then he began barking orders even a six-armed woman with a split personality would have had trouble handling.

Finally, pushed to the edge, Charlotte snapped. “I’m going as fast as I can!” she yelled when he asked her for something a minute after he’d asked her to complete another task.

He scowled and held out a file. “This is a priority.”

Grabbing it from his hand, she said, “Fine,” and slapped it down on her desk.

It was over an hour later that he disappeared for ten minutes. When he returned, it was to put a small bakery box on her desk. “I think you need something to sweeten your mood today, Ms. Baird.”

What she needed was for the T-Rex who was her boss to stop snarling and growling, she thought as he returned to his office. Not opening the box until her curiosity had almost killed her, she found it held a slice of decadent chocolate cake with a white-chocolate ganache topped with curls of both white and milk chocolate. “I cannot be bribed with cake,” she muttered, eating a bite nonetheless.

Full two-chapter excerpt available on Nalini’s Website: http://nalinisingh.com/rockhard.php

 

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The Rock Kiss Series

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Rock Addiction (Book One) Rock Kiss Series

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  Nook  |  iTunes  |  Kobo

Rock Courtship (bk 1.5) A Rock Kiss Novel:

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  iBooks  |  Nook  |  Kobo

Rock Hard (Book Two) Rock Kiss Series:

Amazon US  |  Amazon UK  |  iBooks  |  Nook  |  Kobo

About the author:

nalinipicNEW YORK TIMES AND USA Today bestselling author of the Psy-Changeling and Guild Hunter series Nalini Singh usually writes about hot shapeshifters and dangerous angels. This time around, she decided to write about hot and wickedly tempting rock stars (and one gorgeous ex-rugby player). If you’re seeing a theme here, you’re not wrong.

Nalini lives and works in beautiful New Zealand, and is passionate about writing. If you’d like to explore her other books, you can find lots of excerpts on her website. Slave to Sensation is the first book in the Psy-Changeling series, while Angels’ Blood is the first book in the Guild Hunter series. Also, don’t forget to swing by the site to check out the special behind-the-scenes page for the Rock Kiss series, complete with photos of many of the locations used in the books.

 

STALK HER: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Giveaway:

 

 

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Dissident by Cecilia London….Book Spotlight & Excerpt

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Synopsis:

She once was important. Now she’s considered dangerous.

In a new America where almost no one can be trusted, Caroline lies unconscious in a government hospital as others decide her fate. She is a political dissident, wanted for questioning by a brutal regime that has come to power in a shockingly easy way. As she recovers from her injuries, all she has are her memories. And once she wakes up, they may not matter anymore.

Part One of a Six Part Series. Each part is a full length novel between 60,000-120,000 words and ends in a cliffhanger. For readers 18+. This saga contains adult situations, including non-gratuitous violence, explicit (consensual) sex, psychological and physical trauma, and an oftentimes dark and gritty plot (particularly in part two).

 

Excerpt:

(the prologue, if you’re curious):

They had been dragging themselves through the woods for hours, with him holding the flashlight and leading the way, and her faltering through the ice and snow trying to keep his pace. They moved slowly, their injuries hindering their flight. The forest was thick and foreboding and the biting winter wind whistled through the branches in the trees, cutting them to the core. They listened for the sound of flowing water in the hope that the Allegheny River was no longer frozen over and they could follow it up to New York.

They knew their odds were long but held out faith that despite the blustering wind and bitter cold, they could somehow find a way to Buffalo. The Canadian border. Their last, best chance at safety.

The flashlight began to flicker and the man knew that the batteries would only last them so much longer. It had been snowing earlier in the night, but the clouds had been carried away by the wind and the flashlight was supplemented by the glow of the winter moon. He turned the flashlight off and his wife tumbled into him.

“Jack, why did you do that?” It was hard for her to stay upright without her momentum to keep her going, and even harder to follow him without the artificial light.

“The flashlight’s getting low and the moon is relatively bright. We should conserve the batteries. Do you need to rest?” he asked, knowing the answer was yes.

“No,” she lied. “Let’s keep going.”

He put the flashlight in his coat pocket, feeling it bump up against the gun he had concealed there. He put his arm around her waist and hoisted her up.

“Let’s go,” he said, as he kept his arm around her to steady her as she walked.

Their pace continued to slow until they were hardly moving at all. He could see her grimacing with every step, could hear her labored breathing, and he knew that she was much more seriously injured than she was letting on. Although he himself was in pain he did his best to keep them both going. His ankle was sprained and the weight of two people upon it was almost too much for him to bear. But they couldn’t stop.

He saw a clearing up ahead and knew they were nearing a road. But that wasn’t what they wanted. Roads meant people and people meant danger. Almost no one could be trusted. The soldiers who had run their car off the road were biding their time, waiting, until the moment was right to come after them again.

The two of them weren’t about to make themselves easy prey by following a path trod by others. Their footsteps were not hard to trace because of the snow, but it was better than being out in the open. No, the river was their best bet, their least dangerous path north.

He turned sharply and started to steer them both away from the road, as close to a westerly direction as he could manage. He was a suburban Philly boy and could only depend on his poor instincts to guide him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We need to find the river, Caroline. There’s a road up ahead and we have to avoid it.”

The woods grew hilly and she began to struggle. He was practically carrying her as they made their way up an incline and he knew he wouldn’t be able to support her much longer. Suddenly she broke free of him and lurched into a nearby tree, sinking to the ground.

She pulled off her earmuffs and loosened her scarf with difficulty, her back to the tree. He could tell she was in tremendous pain and knelt down in the snow beside her.

“Sweetheart, we have to keep going,” he said.

Her face was windswept and her eyes were red. She was sweating in spite of the cold and he could practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

“Jack, I can’t do this. I’m too tired. I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, you can. We can keep going. I’ll help.”

“You can’t help. You can barely walk while you’re lugging me along.” She began to cry.

He wiped away some of her tears with his gloved hand. “We’ll stop for a minute, all right? Then we’ll start again.”

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. The tears coursed silently down her face. He let her rest, hoping that she would then tell him they could move on even though they really had no time to waste. She opened her eyes a few moments later and looked at him. His breath caught in his throat. Her brown eyes, which had once been so warm, confident, and loving, were now laced with a fear he’d never seen before.

“You have to go,” she said. “Now.”

“We have to go,” he corrected her.

“No. You.”

“No.” He looked at her incredulously. “We.”

“You have to go, Jack. It’s the only way.”

His mind started racing. He couldn’t wrap his head around what she was suggesting.

“No. I’m not leaving you here.”

She closed her eyes again. The wetness on her face was beginning to freeze in place. Her voice broke.

“Tell my girls how much I love them.” She stifled a sob. “Tell them I’m sorry.”

Her children. Their children. Who were hopefully already in Canada.

“This is absurd, Caroline. I’m not leaving you here alone. Are you insane? We’re wasting time.”

“You can move ten times faster without me. You know I’m right.”

Hot, angry tears pricked his eyes. “I’m not leaving you, sweetheart. There has to be another way.”

“This is the only way and you know it.” She took her left glove off and traced his lips with her bare fingers. “My darling. My Monty. I love you so.”

He kissed her fingers and wrapped them in his, trying to warm them. “I’m not leaving you,” he repeated.

Her voice was weak, but firm. “This is bigger than us. You have to go. Get to Canada. Share that information. Stop Santos. Don’t let all our sacrifices be for nothing.”

“I love you.” He took off his gloves and began to caress her face with his bare hands. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Listen to me. You are going to go. You are going to get to Canada. You are going to get this flash drive to people who can do something with it. Please, Jack. Please do this for me.”

He was adamant. “I am not leaving you here!”

“You are. You need to go. They will find us soon and they’ll find us even sooner if we’re moving together.” She tried to straighten up, using the tree for support. “If you don’t leave, I swear to God I will never forgive you. I mean it. There is no point in both of us getting captured or worse. Please. Do this for me.”

He kissed her forehead, still cradling her face in his hands, and the tears in his eyes spilled over. “Don’t make me do this. I can’t. I won’t leave you.”

“Go,” she whispered. “Go before they catch up with us.”

She removed the glove from her right hand and began to slip her wedding rings off her left ring finger. Her large diamond and sapphire engagement ring glistened in the moonlight. She’d thought it was gaudy when he’d first given it to her, and the media had loved speculating about how much it must have cost. But she’d grown accustomed to it. Aside from its sentimental value, it was now almost worthless in the fragile American economy.

She fumbled through the simple task, her hands numbed by the cold. She placed the rings in Jack’s hand and wiped the tears from his face. He searched her eyes for an explanation.

“They’re no good to me out here,” she said. “Take them. They belong to you. I don’t want those bastards to have them.” She closed her eyes and began to nod off.

Jack grabbed her chin, desperate to keep her awake. “Stay with me, Caroline. We can do this.”

“Go now.” Her voice was fading. “Be safe. Be strong.”

Jack brought his lips to hers and kissed her hard, wanting it to last, wanting to breathe life into her, to give her the strength to keep going. He gripped her rings tightly in his fist. The prongs from the engagement ring were prodding into his ice cold palm, but he was oblivious to the pain they caused. He didn’t want to break the connection between them. Caroline brought her hands up to his stocking cap, drew it off, and ran her fingers through his hair. He pulled back, his lips close to hers.

They heard a rustling in the distance and Jack turned his head, not sure of what he would find. He half hoped that a deer would come gliding through the trees but he knew that would be too good to be true. Their luck had run out too many times. Caroline squeezed his hand, the one with the rings in it.

“Go, Jack. They’re coming. Go.”

He pressed his lips to hers again, a long, frantic kiss. She pushed him away and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her Glock and an extra magazine. “Take these. You might need them.”

Jack dropped the rings into one of the interior pockets of his coat, and heard them clink against the box containing the flash drive he was hiding. He put the gun and magazine in his outer coat pocket and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She very clumsily put his stocking cap back on his head and stroked his face, wiping away the wetness there.

“I will always be with you,” she whispered, so softly he could barely hear her.

He took in a sharp, painful breath and put his gloves back on. The night air was freezing. “I will come back for you, Caroline. Understand? I promise I will come back. I’m not giving up. I will find someone we can trust and I will come back.”

She smiled and closed her eyes.

He heard the rustling getting closer. There was almost no way that noise was an animal. And he knew he had only one choice.

He ran.

 

Book Links:

Amazon  |  B&N  |  Kobo  |  iBooks  |  Smashwords

About the author:

Cecilia London is my pen name. I am a native Midwesterner who never thought I’d end up in Texas and yet here I am, determined to help Keep San Antonio Lame. I have been known to dabble in the practice of law. I can apply Simpsons quotes to everyday life, and I live for baseball season.  I’ve been writing off and on since I was a kid, but never really thought I’d have any idea that could turn into a single novel, let alone a series. There aren’t many books about how dystopias/totalitarian political regimes come into existence, and I wanted to touch upon that topic while still maintaining a primary focus on the epic romance. Dissident is my first published novel.

Email: authorcecilialondon@gmail.com

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http://www.cecilialondon.com

 

Cover Reveal….The Quantum Trilogy by M.S. Force

COVER REVEAL

We are so incredibly excited to bring you the cover reveal for M.S. Force’s The Quantum Trilogy!!

The Quantum Trilogy is an Erotic Adult Contemporary Romance story made up of three full-length titles. You get to see all three covers at one time! VIRTUOUS is the first novel in the Quantum Trilogy and releases on April 14. Book 2, VALOROUS, releases one week later on April 21, and VICTORIOUS releases on April 28! Pre-order this amazing new trilogy for only $3.99 each while you can!

 

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ABOUT The Quantum Trilogy:

New York Times bestselling author Marie Force writing as M.S. Force…

He’s a sexual dominant. She’s sworn off sex. There’s no way they can make a relationship work—or can they?

After surviving a traumatic event at age fifteen and the ensuing estrangement from her family, Natalie Bryant has worked for years to reinvent herself into the woman she is today—a happy teacher fresh out of college and enjoying her first winter in New York City with her faithful dog, Fluff, by her side. Natalie isn’t expecting her life to change completely during a routine stroll through Greenwich Village on a blustery January day. But when Fluff breaks loose and charges into a park, Natalie gives chase and crashes into her destiny. Only after Fluff bites and draws blood from the man who accidentally knocked Natalie down does she realize Fluff has bitten the biggest movie star in the world.

He has no business being enthralled by the gorgeous, young, innocent teacher…

Natalie captivates Flynn Godfrey from the first moment their eyes meet while she is lying on the ground and he’s fighting off her ferocious little beast of a dog. The only thing Flynn knows for certain is if he lets Natalie get away, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. After only a short time in her presence, Flynn is prepared to change who he is to be what she needs. He knows he’s in big trouble when she says she won’t sleep with him and he doesn’t care if it means he gets to keep her in his life. But can he turn his back on the lifestyle that has defined him? Can he deny the desires that drive him to give Natalie the introduction to love and romance she so deserves? And most of all, can he keep his truth hidden from her long enough to have forever with her?

Join Flynn and Natalie as their story unfolds in three full-length books released three weeks in a row: VIRTUOUS, VALOROUS and VICTORIOUS. From New York to Los Angeles, from Hollywood to Las Vegas, Flynn and Natalie’s whirlwind love affair has it all—romance, passion, steamy hot sex, relentless paparazzi and a murder that could be their undoing.

If you hate dirty-talking heroes who put it all on the line for the women they love, who leave no desire unfulfilled, who will do anything it takes to protect what’s theirs…If elements of BDSM make you queasy, if smoking hot sex isn’t your thing, if cliffhangers make you rage, if you hate first-person points of view from the heroine AND the hero… this trilogy is NOT for you! You’ve been warned…

 

Click here to read an excerpt of the first two chapters of Virtuous.

 

 

Each title in the Quantum Trilogy is currently $3.99 for pre-order only. These prices will go up to $5.99 one week after release.

Virtuous -cover

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Valorous -cover

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Victorious -cover

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Author PhotoABOUT M.S. Force:

M.S. Force is the erotic alter-ego of New York Times bestselling author Marie Force. The Quantum Trilogy is M.S. Force’s first foray into erotic romance, but it won’t be the last!

With more than 3.5 million books sold, Marie Force is the New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling, award-winning author of 40 contemporary romances. Her New York Times bestselling self-published Gansett Island Series has sold more than 1.8 million e-books since Maid for Love was released in 2011. She is also the author of the New York Times bestselling Fatal Series from Harlequin’s Carina Press, as well as the New York Times bestselling Green Mountain Series from Berkley Sensation, among other books and series, including the new Quantum Trilogy, written as M.S. Force.

While her husband was in the Navy, Marie lived in Spain, Maryland and Florida, and she is now settled in her home state of Rhode Island. She is the mother of two teenagers and two feisty dogs, Brandy and Louie.

Join Marie’s mailing list for news about new books and possible appearances in your area. Join one of Marie’s many reader groups at marieforce.com/connect. Contact Marie at marie@marieforce.com.

Follow her on Facebook at Facebook.com/MarieForceAuthor, on Twitter @marieforce and Instagram at marieforceauthor.

 

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Noise by Brett Garcia Rose….Book Spotlight & Excerpt

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Noise, by Brett Garcia Rose, is a thriller/mystery centering on a deaf character’s search for his missing sister. It’s short, violent, but ultimately it’s about love. Noise was published in June 2014 and is available for sale on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Genres: Action, Adventure, Mystery

Synopsis:

The world is an ugly place, and I can tell you now, I fit in just fine.

Lily is the only person Leon ever loved. When she left a suicide note and disappeared into a murky lake ten years ago, she left him alone, drifting through a silent landscape.

Or did she?

A postcard in her handwriting pulls Leon to the winter-cold concrete heart of New York City. What he discovers unleashes a deadly rage that has no sound.

A grisly trail of clues leads to The Bear, the sadistic Russian crime lord who traffics in human flesh. The police—some corrupt, some merely compromised—are of little help. They don’t like Leon’s methods, or the mess he leaves in his wake.

Leon is deaf, but no sane person would ever call him disabled. He survived as a child on the merciless streets of Nigeria. He misses nothing. He feels no remorse. The only direction he’s ever known is forward.

He will not stop until he knows.

Where is Lily?

 

Excerpt:

Twenty-Eight

The sounds I cannot hear: The whistle of the hammer as it arcs through the air. The wailing of pain and the begging of The Bear. The dripping of blood from thawing meat onto the wet concrete floor. The beautifully crude threats.

My own hideous voice.

I drag The Bear into a walk-in freezer by the hook sunk through his shoulder and toss him into a corner on the floor. When I reenter the freezer, dragging the oak table behind me, The Bear is hard at work on the hook, trying to muscle it out, but it’s sunk deep, through the tendons. Hope is adrenaline, fear masks pain, begging helps no one.

I yank him up by the hook and then hold his hands outstretched, one at a time, as I nail his wrists to the table with railroad spikes. I put all of my 240 pounds behind the hammer, but even so, it takes several swings. His body shakes, the nails sink further into the wood, his face is pain. He screams, but I cannot hear.

The building above burns a deep blue hue with my smuggled-in accelerants.

The sound of the hammer into The Bear. The pain in his eyes. I have never seen so much hatred. It is beautiful to me, to reach this center, this uncomplicated base, to disassemble the past and honor a new history. It is another film, also homemade and rough, an overlay, an epilogue. The Bear is broken but I have spared his face, and to see those eyes, that is what I needed; to see his hatred flow into me, my own eyes sucking down the scum like bathtub drains. His life whirls into me and I taste the fear, the hope, the sharp sting of adrenaline pumping and the reeking muck of despair. His pain soothes me, a slow, thick poison. We will all die.

I know it now; I am a broken man. I always was. I imagine Lily watching me, Lily keeping score, making lists, balancing all. As a child from far away, she was the queen, even more so than her mother. But she didn’t survive. The world was not as we had imagined, not even close. The world is a cruel, bastard place, Lily cold and lost somewhere, me hot and bleeding and swinging my hammer. Life as it is, not as we wish it to be.

The sounds I cannot hear: The laughter of the watchers. The groan of my sister as The Bear cums inside of her, pulling her hair until the roots bleed. The Bear screams and shits himself inside the dark freezer. Lily’s wailing and cursing and crying. I scream at The Bear with all my mighty, damaged voice, swinging the hammer at his ruined hands, hands that will never again touch anyone. Lily at the end, beaten and pissed on and begging to die.

Lily is dead. I am dead. It will never be enough.

I remove the stack of photos from my wallet that I’d printed at the Internet café a lifetime ago and place them face down on the table in front of The Bear. I draw an X on the back of the first photo and turn it over, laying it close to the pulp of his ruined hands.

The Bear offers me anything I want. An animal can feel pain but cannot describe or transmit it adequately. The Bear both is and is not an animal. I lack hearing, so the Bear cannot transmit his experience to me unless I choose to see it. His pain is not my pain, but mine is very much his. I swing the hammer into his unhooked shoulder, and then I draw another X and flip another photo.

His lips move, and I understand what he wants to know. Five photos.

In my notepad, I write: you are a rapist fucking pig. I put the paper into the gristle of his hands and swing the hammer against the metal hook again. It’s a sound I can feel.

Anything, The Bear mouths. He is sweating in the cold air of the freezer. Crying. Bleeding.

In my pad, I write: I want my sister back. I swing the hammer claw-side first into his mouth and leave it there. His body shakes and twitches.

I turn over his photo and write one last note, tearing it off slowly and holding it in front of his face, the handle of the hammer protruding from his jaw like a tusk. You are number four. There are a few seconds of space as the information stirs into him and I watch as he deflates, the skin on his face sagging like a used condom. He knows what I know.

I turn over the last photo for him. I turn it slowly and carefully, sliding it toward him. Victor, his one good son, his outside accomplishment, his college boy, the one who tried to fuck him and they fucked my sister instead.

I remove another mason jar from my bag, unscrewing the metal top and letting the thick fluid flow onto his lap. I wipe my hands carefully and light a kitchen match, holding it in front of his face for a few seconds as it catches fully. He doesn’t try to blow it out. He doesn’t beg me to stop. He just stares at the match as the flame catches, and I drop it onto his lap.

The Bear shakes so hard from the pain that one of his arms rips from the table, leaving a skewer of meat and tendon on the metal spike. I lean into his ear, taking in his sweet reek and the rot of his bowels and, in my own hideous voice, I say:

“Wait for me.”

 

Praise for Noise: 

“A staggering, compelling work of fiction…mind-blowingly perfect. It has everything. Exquisite details, world-weary voice, and people worth knowing. It is truly amazing!” – MaryAnne Kolton, Author and Editor of This Literary Magazine

 “Strong, compelling, raw and human in the best sense. Beautifully written.” – Susan Tepper, Author of Deer and Other Stories

“Perfect, compact and explosive, closing with the gentlest word.” – James Lloyd Davis, Author of Knitting the Unraveled Sleeves

“Wow. Beautiful and wonderful and sad and real.” – Sally Houtman, Author of To Grandma’s House, We . . . Stay

“Frighteningly good.” – Meg Pokrass, Author of Bird Envy

 “Superbly explosive. The rage escalates and careens out of control. Amazing.” – Ajay Nair, Author of Desi Rap

 

brett headshotAbout the Author:

Brett Garcia Rose is a writer, software entrepreneur, and former animal rights soldier and stutterer. He is the author of two books, Noise and Losing Found Things, and his work has been published in Sunday Newsday MagazineThe Barcelona ReviewOpiumRose and ThornThe Battered SuitcaseFiction AtticParaphilia and other literary magazines and anthologies. His short stories have won the Fiction Attic’s Short Memoir Award (Second Place), Opium’s Bookmark Competition, The Lascaux Prize for Short Fiction, and have been nominated for the Million Writer’s AwardBest of the Net and The Pushcart Prize. Rose travels extensively, but calls New York City home. To learn more, go to BrettGarciaRose.com, or connect with Brett on TwitterFacebook, and Goodreads.

 

 

 

 

Cover Reveal….The Ruin of the World by Nazarea Andrews

COVER REVEAL

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Today we are revealing the cover for THE RUIN OF THE WORLD by Nazarea Andrews. This is a new adult title and it will be released April 27th. It is the 4th, and final, book in The World Without End series.

 

BOOK BLURB:

When the zombies rose, we thought the world ended.
It didn’t—it just broke, in a way we couldn’t fix. And we found ways to continue, reasons to fight.
Faith. Family. Politics. Obsession. The most dangerous of all—hope.
But when all of that is stripped away, and nothing remains but rage and betrayal—that is the true end of the world.
Return to the World Without End, for a final battle for hope and survival in the exciting conclusion to Nazarea Andrews’ phenomenal series.

PRE-ORDER NOW

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1AcZKNB

CLICK HERE TO ADD TO GOODREADS.

Ruin of the World CR teaser

 

EXCERPT:

The river is wider than I remember, and the very edge of the west. I crouch on the bank, and my second steps up next to me. We’re in the stretch of land that is unclaimed—the river stands at the divider, and everything East belongs to the dead. But this close, no one living ventures. It’s not safe—even far scouts don’t come this far east.
We might have ceded everything east of the Mississippi, but the truth is, we gave the zombies everything. We hold the Havens, and everything else belongs to the dead.
“Sir? Rice and Payton cleared the bridge.”
I nod, and shift, coming out of my crouch to stand. Fisher looks nervous—they all are. He doesn’t look like a priest, not dressed in the fatigues we commandeered from the Army when we swept through two months ago.
He is, though. Omar would never let me have anything less than a fully loyal Black Priest at my side. His way of controlling me, the situation. Fucking bastard.
I shake my head, shake the anger that wants to rise. I can’t indulge in that right now.
Some anger makes you better. Sharper. But this anger is the kind of consuming rage that gets people killed and I can’t afford that right now.
“Move out,” I murmur. Fisher snaps off a salute, and jogs away. I stay at the water for a longer minute, watching the steady glide of the river, and then I follow him.
The forward scouts did a good job—there are no infects on the bridge to trip us up as we take the river. It’s eerie how clear the bridge is. Not because cars stopped moving on it, but because when we ceded the East, we cleared the bridges, and barricaded them. Even from here, I can see the stone wall that spans the six lanes of traffic, bleached white and gleaming in the morning sun.
The infects who had wandered on the bridge hadn’t come from the East.
Fisher is back, his eyes worried as we cross the bridge in silent formation.
There are no threats here, not in front of us, and we have enough eyes to keep an eye on our six. But all of us move across the arched expanse with tense caution that can’t be taught—it’s ingrained in the children of the change.
You don’t grow up with the dead walking and not figure out how the fuck to stay alive.
“Tuck,” I call, and a wiry solider—one from the Army instead of the Order, breaks ranks, jogging ahead. He hits the wall at a sprint, and I hear an appreciative whistle from Payton as he scrambles up the wall. I admit, privately, that it’s impressive. The man is like a fucking spider, clinging where there is nothing, moving lightning fast and gracefully until he perches on the top of the damn wall like some G.I. Joe Humpty Dumpty.
I snicker, and Fisher’s head snaps around, his eyes wide as he watches me. I whistle, and Tuck nods, swinging his rifle around.
“There aren’t many, boss,” he calls back to me.
“Just clean it up. You know our orders.”
Fisher shifts next to me, and Tuck sights down his rifle. There’s a soft puff of air and then a shrill scream.
Killing one is a sure fire way to draw the attention of the others. I hear a body scrambling at the wall, broken fingers scratching, and my stomach turns.
I’ve had very little taste for killing since we left the Outpost, four months ago. It’s still what I’m best at. But I no longer can lose myself in the fight—not when the screaming infects take me back to my own dead. There are three more shorts, quick and silent, and the screams go still. I glance up at Tuck, grinning atop his wall, and nod.
“Bring it down.”

 

 

NazareaAndrewsAUTHOR INFORMATION:

Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.

AUTHOR LINKS:

You can follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Booktropolous.
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/MtHwj

 

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Her Soldier by H.J. Bellus….Release Day Event

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Synopsis

Sergeant Jeremiah Abbner died in the line of duty serving his country. Or at least that’s what the newspapers said…

The US Government handed him a new identity, and strict orders not to make contact with anyone from his past. As far as society was concerned Sergeant Jeremiah Abbner was dead, and buried six feet under.

Not having contact with his ex-wife would be easy. She was a manipulator and a cheater.

Not seeing his daughter on the other hand would devastate him…

Beau Morgan, aka Jeremiah, settles down in a town far away from everything he’s ever known. Coping with the trauma he’s experienced and discovering a new life Beau finds himself the most aggressive he’s ever been. His blood simmers with rage while his fists are thirsty to let it all out .

In the middle of his own living hell he never expected to run into an old familiar face. And to top it off, one who recognized him as Jeremiah.

He’s vowed never to love again, but as circumstances land him in the arms of a woman, Jenni Lee, this time he may not have a choice, as she rarely takes no for an answer.

Can Beau Morgan control his temper long enough to settle into his new life? Or will resentment taint him forever?

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I’m just a simple girl who loves the country life.. .oh yeah! & a good corn dog! Throw in a little Vanilla Ice, and shits bound to get crazy! Be brave…

-Loves country life & music
-Gets the case of the “eff-its” often
-Loves Big
-Hurts Big
-love corn dogs & candy…. & (sex & candaaay)
-My heart is happy writing!!!

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Cover Reveal…How To Punish Your Playboy by Mina Vaughn

HowtoPunishYourPlayboy2

A saucy and funny domination romance in which pin-up model Veronika Kane meets sexy, arrogant Aston Delano and decides to teach this playboy a lesson he’ll never forget…

When Veronika Kane hears that she’s up for Miss Pin Up Las Vegas, she auctions off her classic hot-rod and decides to head out west. But when the man who bought her car, hot restaurateur Aston Delano, asks her to “show him the ropes,” his not-so-innocent question takes them down a surprising, sexy road. And as they travel cross-country as Domme/sub, their chemistry sizzles—as do the luscious meals Aston creates.

Torn between the rediscovered pleasure of food and worry about staying in competition shape, Mistress Veronika unexpectedly finds herself as much a pupil as a teacher. Throw in long-distance trouble from her ex and from Aston’s family, and it’s a potential recipe for disaster. A road trip can be hard on any relationship—will this drive them apart, or will they buckle in for the long haul?

 

Releasing April 6, 2015