Review 

Excerpt from Silver Bastard

By Joanna Wylde

http://www.joannawylde.com

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.

Meet Puck & Becca on April 7th!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1L800mj

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Jo5nlE

Barnes & Noble:  http://bit.ly/19pOdnS

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1FquTTu

iBooks: http://apple.co/1xqL0tv

 

Blurb

First in the new Silver Valley series from the New York Times bestselling author of the Reapers Motorcycle Club Novels.

Fourteen months. For fourteen months, Puck Redhouse sat in a cell and kept his mouth shut, protecting the Silver Bastards MC from their enemies. Then he was free and it was time for his reward–full membership in the club, along with a party to celebrate. That’s when he saw Becca Jones for the first time and set everything in motion. Before the night ended he’d violated his parole and stolen her away from everything she knew.

Five years. It was five years ago that Puck destroyed Becca and saved her all in one night. She’s been terrified of him ever since, but she’s even more terrified of the monsters he still protects her from… But Becca refuses to let fear control her. She’s living her life and moving forward, until she gets a phone call from the past she can’t ignore. She has to go back, and there’s only one man she can trust to go with her–the ex-con biker who rescued her once before.

Puck will help her again, but this time it’ll be on his terms. No more lies, no more tears, and no more holding back what he really wants…

 

 

 

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

 

 

Night Shift is now available
6 NEW novellas — Never Before Released
100% of the proceeds will be donated to charity

Amazon – http://amzn.to/1LoEvOl
Barnes & Noble – Links unavailable at time of posting
iTunes – iTunes – http://apple.co/1Emz0vH
Kobo – Links unavailable at time of posting

Authors: Toni Aleo, Kindle Alexander, Sawyer Bennett, Chelle Bliss, Eden Butler, and Brenda Rothert

Synopsis

Summer in the Big Easy is hot. Inside Tulane Medical Center the temperature is on the rise.

A doctor nursing a broken heart. A wounded warrior with no interest in love. A single father finding the girl who got away. A combat nurse trying to adjust to civilian life. Two lost souls looking for love. A former detective looking for answers and an FBI agent who finds more than he bargains for.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The first part in Michelle Valentine’s A Sexy Manhattan Fairytale series is available now – grab NAUGHTY KING for just .99c!

About NAUGHTY KING

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Google Books | iBooks (Coming Soon)

Review

Hail to the Naughty King and his feisty, headstrong, and maneater assistant – the King and the Princess have declared war of the sexual and manipulative variety, and when both deem themselves the inevitable winner, the deeds to achieve that title are bound to be dirty, torturous and downright duplicitous.

Alexander King is an arrogant, intelligent, and bastard of a man who exudes sex and power; he demands nothing but perfection in his business dealings and acquires everything that he wants with steadfast determination. His personal relationships are anything but, taking what he wants from his partners without giving them anything in return but sexual gratification. Women want him…men fear him. There isn’t anyone who he can’t bring to his knees, both literally and metaphorically, until now.

Margo Buchanan is a woman hellbent on saving her father’s company from the hands of the arrogant prick, Alexander King, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen, which is a good thing since her body demands her head give into what it wants. Regardless of how much Margo loathes Alexander, she can’t deny the chemistry and sexual attraction that exists between them, and while she knows she can use that to her advantage in order to obtain what she wants, she’s also putting herself at risk, even if she can’t or won’t willingly admit it to herself.

I loved the witty banter between Alexander and Margo and can’t wait to see them put each other through the ringer – they frustrate one another on so many levels and they should definitely take a hands off approach when it comes to their end game, but the body wants what the body wants.

Bring on Feisty Princess and more Yamada “madafakas!”

A complimentary copy was provided in exchange for an honest review.

5 poison apples

About Michelle Valentine 

Michelle A. Valentine is a Central Ohio nurse turned New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of erotic and New Adult romance. Her love of hard-rock music, tattoos, and sexy musicians inspired her erotic BLACK FALCON series.

Website | Newsletter | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram

Be a little naughty – join Valentine’s Vixens on Facebook for sneak peeks at Michelle’s upcoming works, as well as fun and chatting with her and other readers!

Title: Misconduct

Author: Penelope Douglas

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: December 1, 2015

Synopsis

Former tennis player Easton Bradbury is trying to be the best teacher she can be, trying to reach her bored students and trying to forget her past. What brought her to this stage in her life isn’t important. She can’t let it be. But now one parent-teacher meeting may be her undoing…

Meeting Tyler Marek for the first time makes it easy for Easton to see why his son is having trouble in school. The man knows how to manage businesses and wealth, not a teenage boy. Or a young teacher, for that matter, though he tries to. And yet…there is something about him that draws Easton in—a hint of vulnerability, a flash of attraction, a spark that might burn.

Wanting him is taboo. Needing him is undeniable. And his long-awaited touch will weaken Easton’s resolve—and reveal what should stay hidden…

(*STANDALONE, NO CLIFFHANGER*)

Amazon | Kobo | iTunes | BAM

Penelope Douglas is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Fall Away series. She earned a Bachelor’s Degree in Public Administration from the University of Northern Iowa and a Master of Science in Education from Loyola University in New Orleans. Penelope lives in Las Vegas with her family.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Tsū | Goodreads

The giveaway is international and ends at 11:59 PM CST 03/21/2015.

• (2) $20 Amazon Gift Card (Intl)
• (1) Aflame ARC to be gifted on 04/01/2015

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Author

Kendall Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance novels, including Hard to Love, Unravel Me, Resisting Her and When I Break.

She’s a sassy, yet polite Midwestern girl with a deep love of books, and a slight addiction to lipgloss. She lives in Minneapolis with her adorable husband and two baby sons, and enjoys hiking, being active, and reading.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras

Links:

Newsletter: http://kendallryanbooks.us3.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=5e9b5a2c936361922bf216982&id=3e96c17e3d

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KendallRyan1

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kendallryanbooks

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kendallryan1/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6473923.Kendall_Ryan

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Kendall-Ryan/e/B009FNTHMK/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1407617700&sr=8-2-ent

Veronica Forand
Untrue Colors
Release date: 3/10/2015

BLURB

She’s on the run…

Brilliant art appraiser Alex Northrop’s ex used stolen art to fund his nefarious activities. Now he wants her dead. But it isn’t just herself she’s worried about – if he discovers who she really is, he’ll kill her family.

Professor Henry Chilton is shocked to find a beautiful stranger passed out in his bed, and even more so when she reveals a priceless painting is a forgery – the painting he’d planned to use to fund a woman’s shelter. She’s mysterious and frightened, and he is determined to discover why.

Alex’s knowledge of art is undeniable—just as Henry’s attraction to her is irresistible. But in order to help him recover the real painting, Alex isn’t just risking exposure…she’s risking her life.

GOODREADS:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24980621-untrue-colors?ac=1

 

Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Untrue-Colors-Entangled-Select-Suspense-ebook/dp/B00TOEK5LM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425306475&sr=8-1&keywords=veronica+forand+untrue+colors

Barnes & Noble Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/untrue-colors-veronica-forand/1121227805?ean=9781633752061

iTunes/iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/untrue-colors-entangled-select/id967925875?mt=11&uo=4

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Veronica_Forand_Untrue_Colors_Entangled_Select_Sus?id=1GGzBgAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/untrue-colors-entangled-select-suspense

 

Book Trailer

 

Teasers

He kissed the top of her head, ignoring his yearning to kiss her lips. Her body shivered as her arms circled his waist, and she hugged him close. Nothing had ever fit his body so perfectly. Nobody had ever fit his body so perfectly. She’d have a hard time getting rid of him. She needed a guardian angel, and he’d just appointed himself to the task.

She stopped again and whirled around to face him. With her hand fisted on her hip, her lips pinched together, and an expression that didn’t welcome him into her arms, the feisty woman stood her ground. Feisty looked great on her.

He lifted her chin and deepened the kiss. She tasted of chocolate, the chocolate- covered strawberries served at the end of the party. God, he was hungry for chocolate. Starved.

“Good night, Lord Henry.” Her eyes closed, but a slight smile remained on those pretty lips.

No chocolate for him tonight.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Alex grieved as she looked toward the Louvre for possibly the last time. She wrapped her arms across her chest and tried to steady her breath. Overhearing Luc’s plan to celebrate their four-month anniversary by murdering her had set off her own plan of running as far away from him as possible—not an effective plan, considering the monster sat within six inches of her in a car on the way to her death.

What began as a fairy-tale romance had morphed into a traumatic descent into hell. A glamorous job, a handsome client, a little romance, a perfect life, until she uncovered his deception. Luc was a crook.

And I was the gullible appraiser used to dupe art collectors and even small countries out of their valuable assets. What an idiot I was to believe his lies.

While his main henchman, Pascal, drove them through Paris, Luc held her hand in the back of the Mercedes like they were still lovers. They appeared perfect for each other, a

rich art collector and the young art appraiser who had fallen head over heels for him. Rugged good looks combined with an enormous amount of wealth made him an ideal catch for a woman who didn’t mind being beaten into submission.

Not me. I objected to every broken bone and every bruise on my body.

Luc, dressed in a thousand-dollar suit and wearing a sophisticated five-o’clock shadow across his chiseled features, seemed headed out for a night at the theater, not on the way to eliminate his girlfriend. Alex leaned away from him. She needed to get away. His free hand caressed her arm, rubbed her shoulder, and pulled her back toward him. Moving slowly, seductively, he wrapped his fingers around her neck and started to squeeze. He stared at her, observing her reaction.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone. I swear it.” She pleaded for her life, speaking French, the only language they’d ever used with each other. As his hand tightened, she gasped and struggled for breath.

Luc drew her face closer to his. His lips pinched together, causing the muscles in his neck to tense. “Liar.”

She struggled to pull away; his grip tightened. No longer able to inhale, her eyes watered and her vision faded. With nothing left to lose, she struck out at his face. He released her, but slapped her ear so hard, her head flew into the door. The pain ricocheted through her skull, leaving her numb for a moment.

She glanced out the window and saw salvation. As Pascal slowed for a turn, she opened the door and jumped. Her Chanel suit acted as her only protection when she hit the ground and bounced onto the road. Asphalt scraped

her skin with each rotation until she slammed into the curb. Pain rebelled in ribs not yet healed from her fall down Luc’s marble stairway. Car brakes screeched nearby. In seconds, they would be on her. She hobbled to her feet, sucking in huge breaths. Bystanders pressed around her, trying to assist, but she twisted away, her hands poised to fight anything that touched her.

She merged into the manic crowd entering the Gare du Nord at rush hour. Men and women in suits, groups of schoolchildren, and what felt like hundreds of tourists slowed her escape. With her passports tucked in a travel belt under her skirt and several hundred euros in her possession, she boarded the high-speed train for London and prayed he wouldn’t follow her.

 GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

INTERVIEW QUESTIONS

How did you come up with the idea for this story?

I’d written a womens’ fiction novel and had started writing the sequel about the heroine’s sister. When I pitched the stories to an agent, she told me to add a third sister to make the series more marketable. I had the third sister run away from home and live in Paris so I didn’t have to change the first novel. After obsessing about what this sister was doing in Paris, the romantic thriller was born. The other two sisters eventually stepped back into supporting roles.

Where do you find your inspiration? 

Every life experience gives me inspiration, from my embarrassment on prom night, the heartache of watching my boyfriend fly thousands of miles away from me, to the death of a loved one. Those emotions feed every story I write.

Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

I have a hard time keeping small details in order, so I map out times and places and even names to keep things straight.

What are your current projects? 

I’m doing some edits on the second and third books in this series. In addition, I write a hockey series about the Atlantic City Hustlers with a friend, Susan Scott Shelley. We’ll be starting the third novella for that. I’m also writing a new series about a small town cop.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp? 

Heroes can be Alpha and in control of their world and protective of the women they love, yet they must be able to respect the women in their lives choices, even if it goes against their own self interest.

Does music play any type of role in your writing?

I write in total silence. It’s the only way I can find the emotions and words I need for a scene. If I’m not feeling a certain emotion, however, I have certain music that can transport me into those happy, sad, or scared moments.

Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your life?

No. My first book was based on my life, and I felt it was too intrusive. I prefer thinking up a new character for each story and placing him or her in a seemingly impossible situation.

What books have influenced your life most?

I love books that wrap me in a fictional world and have me sad to leave it at the end. Some of the most memorable books I’ve read were “Angels and Demons” by Dan Brown, “Outlander” by Diane Gabaldon, “Clan of the Cave Bear” by Jean Auel, and Karen Marie Moning’s Fever series.

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

This excerpt is from “True Deceptions” the sequel to “Untrue Colors.”

Simon turned away from Anna Marie and spit out her saliva. He wiped his tongue on his shirt and then spit again. He’d be fine, but she wouldn’t be. He knelt next to the couch and brushed her hair back. Her body rocked, and he held her steady by her shoulders, whispering stupid nothings, but the horror reflected in her eyes didn’t subside. Her convulsions had slowed and tears fell fast down her cheeks. She would die in the arms of a stranger who didn’t know her, love her, or have the capacity to mourn for her.

How can readers discover more about you and your work?

I try to keep my website up to date with my newest releases and my appearances. www.veronicaforand.com

Do you have a special time to write? How is your day structured writing-wise?

After I take my children to school, I try to write for four to six hours with time for social media and marketing work. If I’m in the middle of an intense scene, I could end up working all night.

Why did you choose to write romantic suspense stories?

When I write, I try to create a book I would want to read. I love suspense, that edge of your seat feeling when you read a book. And I love happy endings, so it would be rare for me to end a book without a satisfying resolution.

What is for you the perfect book hero?

Both my heroes and heroines need to have flaws, yet they also have to live by some sort of moral code. My male heroes must respect the women around them or they aren’t hero material. Heroines need to be able to stand on their own feet as well.

When a hero and heroine join together as a couple, they should be two parts of a whole, not one person being absorbed into the life of the other.

When you start a book, do you already have the whole story in your head or is it built progressively?

I plot out my stories before I begin, so I know exactly where I’m going while I write. The characters occasionally take detours and do things I hadn’t anticipated, but they always end up where I want them to go.

When and why did you begin writing?

I’ve always jotted down the beginnings of stories, and then let the ideas fade away. During one NaNoWriMo, I committed to writing an entire novel, and I found finishing stories is a much better feeling than starting them.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

February 2012. I joined a local chapter of Romance Writers of America and found a group of writers who took their jobs seriously and took my dreams seriously.

Will you write more about these characters?

Most of the characters in “Untrue Colors” come back throughout the series. Simon in particular is a key player in book two and three.

About the Author

Veronica Forand is an attorney and an award-winning writer of romantic suspense. She’s lived in Boston, London, Paris, Geneva, and Washington, DC and currently resides near Philadelphia. An avid traveler, she loves to roam across continents with her husband and kids in pursuit of skiing, scuba diving, and finding the perfect piece of chocolate.

Website: http://veronicaforand.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/veronica.forand

Twitter: https://twitter.com/VeronicaForand

GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8382446.Veronica_Forand

Title: Stay for Me

Author: Megan Smith

Release Date: March 16, 2015

 

Blurb

Eli Sabatino, determined to make a name for himself amid Seaside, New Jersey’s nightlife, has laid out the perfect plan for success. But that plan didn’t include Layla, the hopeful bartender who walked in for an interview. He knows, as an employee, this blonde bombshell is off-limits but he can’t fight the undeniable force of attraction that pulls him toward her.

Layla Del Luca has the weight of the world on her shoulders. With a full course load, a boyfriend, a sister to take care of, and an alcoholic mother, she needs to regain control of her life. Her job at Fierce is priority number one. But a complication she didn’t expect looms behind the eyes of Eli, her handsome new boss.

Emotions collide full force and they can no longer turn a blind eye to what their hearts are telling them.

But, can their passion survive when Eli can no longer promise the one thing Layla asks of him? Will everything change? Will he stay?

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1GUnfmb

 

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author Megan Smith is a New Jersey native who creates the memorable characters her fans have grown to adore.

Smith is a wife and mother, who makes time for her family, professional life and the creation of the characters. Fans of The Love Series – Trying Not To Love You, Easy To Love You, Hard To Love You, Let Me Love You, A Christmas To Love You – are captivated by relationships, special bonds and family ties pervasive in Smith’s emotional, energized and engaging work.

 

Website | Facebook | Email | Pinterst.com | Instagram | Goodreads

Twitter @AuthorMSmith

 

Giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

London Bound (London Lovers #3)

Cover Reveal Date: March 16, 2015

Release Date: May 14, 2015

 

Blurb

***After falling in love with “us” in the first two installments of the London Lovers Series, now…it’s Leslie’s turn in this spicy series stand alone.***

When Leslie Lincoln, a spunky, red-headed American, suffers an awkward moment with an arousingly-sexy British man—she thinks her life can’t get any more pathetic.

She’s done with men.
She doesn’t need them.
She especially doesn’t need their muscular thighs.
No siree, she’s going to forget all about the brooding, complicated, and seductive “Theo” who captivated her on the dance floor of a London nightclub.

Keep telling yourself that, Lez…..

Immersing herself into a new type of romantic cleanse, Leslie thinks she’ll never lay eyes on Theo again. But somehow, he’s managed to bulldoze his way back in—her cheetah-print onesie pajamas be damned.

He wants more.
She wants to run.
But he can’t seem to let her go.

Both of them have a past—and neither want to share.

How can love possibly survive in darkness?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24703334-london-bound

 

London Lovers Series 

Becoming Us

London Lovers # 1

Blurb

The dreaded friend-zone… The last place I ever want to be with college basketball God, Jake LaShae. I am losing my mind trying to figure out what this gorgeous and confident man wants from me. I need to break through his walls. What is it about me that makes him not go there? What am I lacking? When a mind-blowing betrayal knocks the wind out of me, and I think I can’t feel any lower…Brody stumbles into my path-barefoot no less, and sexy as hell. His direct and mouth-watering swagger is a breath of fresh air. The feelings this man gives me are like nothing I’ve ever experienced. But Brody has a past. A past that makes it nearly impossible for him to trust me and let us become us in whatever capacity that may be. Just when Brody and I truly connect, just when I think that finding my soul-mate in college isn’t a total joke, Jake comes back into my life…and messes things up…possibly for good.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24343923-becoming-us

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00RE4IMVY
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/becoming-us-amy-daws/1121080072?ean=9780990325284

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/becoming-us/id957419358?mt=11

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/becoming-us-1

 

A Broken Us

London Lovers # 2

Blurb

The moment those words come out of the doctor’s mouth, I feel sick.
So sick.
The life I have dreamed of…obliterated.
And Brody.
God, Brody.
How will he look at me?
How can he accept me?
He’ll know what I hid from him.
He’ll know everything.
It’s over. It’s completely over. I can’t tell him “I love Us” anymore.
Even though I do.
Even though it will kill me.
I can’t tell him anything. Everything is ruined. Pummeled. Broken.
I have to leave him. I have to give up us.
I know he’ll come after me.
I just have to do something to make him not want to.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23591842-a-broken-us

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00MXQGR2O
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-broken-us-amy-daws/1120361694?ean=9780990325246

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/a-broken-us/id921908413?mt=11

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/a-broken-us

About Author

Amy Daws is a goof of epic proportions. She enjoys making dumb videos and laughing at herself…a lot. It gets awkward. She thinks she should have tried her hand at improv theater but figured she’d learn how life looks behind the lens of a camera first.

She also thinks talking about herself in the third person isn’t awkward at all.

Amy lives in South Dakota with her husband, Kevin, and their miracle daughter, Lorelei. The long-awaited birth of Lorelei is what inspired Amy’s first book, Chasing Hope, and her passion for writing.

Amy’s contemporary romance books are a part of the The London Lovers Series and currently have two installments out with more to come. Her writing style is emotional and self-deprecating with awkward humor sprinkled in. Basically, if she makes you cry happy and sad tears…she’s achieved her goal. Extra points if you have to blow your nose.

Amy’s inspiration for writing is and always will be her six precious angel babies and her daughter, Lorelei. On most nights, you can find Amy and her family dancing to Strawberry Shortcake’s theme song or stuffing themselves inside children’s-sized playhouses because there is nothing they wouldn’t do for their little miracle.

Website: http://amydawsauthor.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/amydawsauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/amydawsauthor

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8193655.Amy_Daws

 

 

Synopsis

When he kissed me, I was shocked. He was a stranger and still so familiar. It wasn’t until I woke up to my picture splashed on the cover of tabloids that I realized I knew who he was.

Prince Alexander of Cambridge. Royal bad boy.

Exiled heir to the throne.

He isn’t Prince Charming. He’s controlling. He’s demanding. He’s dangerous. And I can’t say no to him.

We both have secrets—secrets that could tear us apart or drive us closer together—and as the paparazzi exposes each one, I have to decide just how far I’m willing to go for King and Coun- try.

Royal Saga, Book 1 Release: May 2014

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Goodreads

What Reviews Are Saying

“I am blown away by the series!! Ladies, you need to read this!! It’s like crack!! The Prince is one kinky f*cker and I loved it !!”

-Schemxy Girls Book Blog

“If I didn’t already love his royal domineering ass, I would have fallen for him here. I can’t wait for the final book.”

-Cocktails and Books

Review

Command…Control…Take…Free

This is what Prince Alexander offers Clara Bishop when a chance encounter turns into a steamy love affair that pulls both of them towards one another – towards a relationship that neither understands nor can do anything to prevent from occurring. Alexander wants to show career oriented Clara the pleasures of being commanded and taken, but Clara has to decide if she can willingly give him control because it’s something that allows her life to stay focused and healthy, grounding her in a way that her past dictates must occur.

But once Clara experiences the X Effect, she finds herself consumed with the dirty mouthed prince; her insatiable lust for him never fading, which is both exhilarating and threatening because right from the start, Alexander has told Clara that either he or his life will destroy her, and it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy because nothing good can come from the secrets being kept from both parties.

I absolutely devoured Command Me and immediately dove into Conquer Me. Clara and Alexander are fantastic characters who bring light to each other’s darkened lives. They need one another, but the fall out of their connection because of Alexander’s duty to his family may be too much for Clara to handle, and I can’t blame her reactions or her pause to continue this love affair because it could end up doing more harm than good not only to her psyche and her body but also to her heart.

Prince Alexander is a bit of an enigma; he understands his place in terms of the crown and he does what needs to be done for both his family and his country, neglecting himself in the process. His past is shrouded in pain and that darkness taunts him on a regular basis only freeing him when he uses someone else’s body to do his bidding. Alexander is relentless when it comes to what he wants, and Clara is it, and although he knows the risks involved by pursuing her as he does, he just can’t seem to help himself because the lightness she brings into his life is something he can’t willingly give up even if it’s what is best for all involved.

Clara needs to be freed from her own self-doubt and lonely existence; she just doesn’t truly understand that fact until she gives her body over to Alexander. As much as Clara tries to not succumb to his charms and keep it strictly physical, he calls to her in a way that no one else does. He knocks down her walls; he frees her from herself, which is not something she’s used to someone doing for her because she has always been fiercely independent. But as caught up as she is in Alexander’s body and the passion that exists between them, she still tries to remain clear headed with the situation because Alexander’s position as future ruler is not something that will go away and her place in that lifestyle is not something she sees happening.

Command Me is an amazing first book in Geneva Lee’s Royal Saga series; it’s intriguing, sensual, dirty, and downright scandalous at times, making it a must read. The characters are dynamic and the storyline is captivating right from the start. It commanded my attention from page one and now I’m ready to be conquered by the next book;)

A complimentary copy was provided in exchange for an honest review.

5 poison apples

Synopsis 

Alexander had the world at his feet and me on my knees until secrets tore us apart.

I should stay away from him. I should run. But I’m addicted to him…to the pleasure and the pain.

He warned me about his dark side…about his past. But I have a dark side, too. Together we’ll conquer our demons…if we don’t destroy each other first.

Love doesn’t always conquer all, but it can Conquer Me.

Royal Saga, Book 2 Release: November 2014

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Goodreads

Review

In book one of Geneva Lee’s Royals Saga, Prince Alexander commanded Clara Bishop’s body and then her heart, dictating what she gave him and when, and while that worked for Clara through much of the book, at the end, Clara exerted her independence and walked away from the man who freed her in so many ways because she couldn’t be a kept secret, and she couldn’t get past all of the secrets he was keeping from her, even if some of them were for her own good.

As Conquer Me begins, Clara is dealing with the aftermath of losing the love of her life, existing as best she can. By exerting her self worth, Clara crushed her heart, but she knows there are limits to what she is willing to endure for love, and without actions on Alexander’s part, his promises mean nothing to her. But what she doesn’t know as she tries to traverse her lonely existence and not go back to old habits is that Alexander misses and craves her just as much as she does him and when that information comes to light, Clara will have to decide if she can willingly give her body and soul to Alexander again and face the letdown that may occur again due to Alexander’s obligation to his country, his duties to his family, and the many people who refuse to acknowledge her position next to him.

The idea of being conquered is a multi-layered concept for both Clara and Alexander, and its applicability reaches further than just their relationship. Clara must overcome her self doubt, her inability to control every situation, her need to know all of Alexander’s secrets, and her anxiety of what being a part of Alexander’s “real” world means for her and her life. Alexander must surmount the obstacles in his path due to his royal obligations and his father’s manipulation as well as prevail against Clara’s frees and insecurities. It’s a tangled web that Alexander must commandeer around but at the end of it if it means having the one woman who helps to conquer his demons and satisfy his body as well as his soul then it’s worth all of the torment and disruptions that overwhelm him.

Conquer Me is a great follow up to Command Me and delves deeper into the sensual relationship that exists between Alexander and Clara. The chemistry between them is still at the forefront of the text and the way Alexander commands Clara’s body proves exactly how sexually compatible they are. Getting snippets of Alexander’s point of view also adds to the dynamics of the text, offering necessary insight into his true feelings and what he’s willing to do to claim the woman who owns him even more than she truly understands. There is a lot of outside pressure closing in on Clara and Alexander that threatens to put another divide between them, forcing Alexander to seduce Clara’s body to get what he wants, and while that is how he’s used to getting his way, there’s more to their relationship now, and I would have liked it examined a bit more by them opening up to each other, giving in to more than just their sexual impulses. I’m sure, though, that that will come with time and truths revealed, which I will be anxiously waiting for in Crown Me.

A complimentary copy was provided in exchange for an honest review.

4 poison apples

About the Author

Geneva Lee is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of contem- porary romance. She lives in Kansas City with her family.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | tumblr | Google +

 

Follow the Tour:  http://wp.me/p20ttU-3uM