Title: Beauty of A Monster: Seduction (Beauty of A Monster Duet, #1)
Authors: Eleanor Lloyd-Jones & Katie Fox
Release Date: May 2nd 2017
A house filled with well-kept secrets.
A delicate balance of order and control.
A story of a life ripped apart by grief and blameâ¦
... and the whirlwind of color and optimism who turns his existence upside downâ¦
... with the strength of her love.
Amazon: http://myBook.to/BOAM
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Beauty of A Monster: Seduction (Beauty of A Monster Duet, #1)
Text Copyright © 2017 Eleanor Llyod-Jones & Katie Fox
All Rights Reserved
Swallowing the dryness from her throat, Josephine dug her fingers into her hips and bit down on her lip, the sensual movement acting like a direct switch to Willâs dick. âAre you asking me or telling me?â
âIâm telling you, Miss Bell.â
Eleanor Lloyd-Jones
Raised in a little village in North Wales, a fierce love of books and reading was instilled in me by my parents from a very early age, and I have vivid memories of reading secretly under the blankets with a torch for hours after lights out, often getting caught! I was blown away by The Borribles Trilogy - Michael De Larrabeiti at nine years old, and it was then that I fell head over heels with the idea of imaginary worlds.
A persistent and professional daydreamer, something I still pride myself on being, I spent most of my early childhood inside my own head making up stories or scenarios, climbing trees, building dens or doing anything 'arts and crafts'.
Music also played a huge part of my young life. Growing up on The Beatles, U2 and Status Quo, my obsession with Top of the Pops and vinyl twelve inches grew into a love affair with music that has only expanded over time: there is rarely a moment where music is not playing in my life, and in turn, rarely a time when I am not singing, even if it is only in my head!
I had always thought I would write a book some dayâit has been an ambition for as long as I can rememberâand I have always been told that I âhave a way with wordsâ. Over the years, I've dabbled in the odd piece of prose, helped friends to write letters and résumés and I pride myself on her hilarious lyrical genius when composing poems for friends' birthdays! ;)
Life, however, got in the way and my dream was stored on the back burner as I put myself through university and started a family. It was only when I was nearing the âfortyâ milestone that I decided it was time I got some of the ramblings and chatterings in my head down on paper.
A creative mum of one boisterous boy, I class myself as a Yorkshire gal now after moving to Leeds when I was eleven. I work full time as a teacher, but I grab every spare minute I can to write, be it on the train to work or by foregoing sleep for an extra hour or two in the evenings.
My hope for the future is for people to fall in love with my characters as much as I do. Not a big ask really!
Katie Fox
Katie Fox was born in Florida and raised in Pennsylvania, where she still resides with her gamer husband and four-year-old son. An avid reader and hopeless romantic, she is a sucker for a good love story. When not found with her nose buried in a book, she's usually spending time with her family or in her writing cave, giving life to the voices in her head.
Since a very young age, writing has been her passion.
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![]() American Prince, the highly-anticipated follow up to American Queen by Sierra Simone is now LIVE!!![]() American Prince by Sierra Simone Publication Date: March 7th, 2017 Genre: Contemporary RomanceI’ve been many things. I’ve been a son and a stepbrother. An Army captain and a Vice President. But only with Him am I a prince. His little prince. Only with Maxen and Greer does my world make sense, only between them can I find peace from the demons that haunt me. But men like me aren’t made to be happy. We don’t deserve it. And I should have known a love as sharp as ours could cut both ways. My name is Embry Moore and I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States…for now. This is the story of an American Prince. ![]() Read Today!Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2kz2vYl Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/368hJA iBooks: https://goo.gl/RczMVr Nook: https://goo.gl/i22aU8 Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/AlkkGL Start the Trilogy with American Queen Today!Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2kqWPof Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/l3tVTs iBooks: https://goo.gl/OUhDII Nook: https://goo.gl/zi8V8D Kobo: https://goo.gl/hP1M34 Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/HnP6P2 ![]() About the Author:Sierra Simone is a former librarian who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk. She lives with her husband and family in Kansas City.Connect with Sierra:Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheSierraSimone/ Twitter: @TheSierraSimone Reader Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/SierraSimonesLambs/ Website: http://www.authorsierrasimone.com Stay up to date with news from Sierra Simone by signing up for her newsletter today:
Stolen by the Arziani Georgian crime mob as a child, 152 was raised and conditioned to be a Mona—the most subservient of the Arziani Blood Pit slaves. Gorgeous and kind, she has been and under the imprisoning influence of the Type B drug and under the command of the Blood Pit Master’s sister, Mistress Arziani, for most of her life, until the Master calls her back home to Georgia. He wants her under his total control, and Master always gets what he wants. But when 152 is gifted to the Blood Pit’s fearsome champion death match fighter as a prize, 152 suddenly finds out that the men who appear most brutal, may just own the kindest hearts. And love may be found, even when living in hell. Freedom, family, love, 152 will have to fight for what she wants and ultimately make an impossible choice. LUKA
“The real world isn’t ready to handle our reality. How could they accept that the gulags, the drugs, and the Blood Pit are real? It is the stuff of nightmares. How could they believe that males are being raised as killers, for sport and greed? “Worse, it would surely implicate the Bratva and my people in too many ways. We can fight the police and the system here in our city, but we can’t take on the whole world.” Zaal shrugged and tapped the map of the Blood Pit. “We need a way in. We need a solid plan, and we need it fast. I won’t have our freedom jeopardized. I won’t have what I’ve found with my Talia taken away from me, after being without her all of these years.” He raised his brow. “And we know you won’t give up Kisa. We need to act, Luka, and we need to do it soon.” Lifting the glass of water sitting beside me, I brought it to my lips and drained it in one motion. Zaal stood up. As he passed by, he pressed his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t move until I heard him leaving my house with Talia, who had been sitting with Kisa. Pushing back from the table, I got to my feet and walked down the hallway. In the living room, Kisa was waiting for me on the couch, hand lying on her swollen stomach. She took one look at me, her face sympathetic. Silently, she held out her hand. I took it in an instant and dropped to the couch beside her. Kisa fell against my chest and her hand landed on my stomach. She didn’t say anything. Once I’d fought through my pride, I admitted, “I can’t see a way to defeat Arziani.” The minute I had confessed what was torturing my mind, a heavy weight lifted from my chest. Kisa froze, then tilted up her chin to meet my eyes. I stared down at my beautiful wife and sighed. “They run a damn fortress, solnyshko. Arziani seems insane from what Valentin has said. He’s deluded, thinks he’s some kind of king, some Roman Caesar. The king of his prisoners. Males, just like me, he drugs them and forces them to fight on until they die. Kids plucked from families and or- phanages, made into his monsters.” I ran my hand over my tired eyes and asked, “How the hell do we stop him? How do we even breach his Blood Pit?” Kisa sat up and brought her face to hover above mine. “You’ll find a way, baby. I trust you, we all do.” I shook my head. “And that’s the problem,” I said harshly. “Everyone expects me to work this out. Everyone expects me to find a way in and execute a plan to bring Arziani down.” I pressed my hand to Kisa’s pregnant stomach, to our baby she was carrying. “But more than that, I need this Arziani to be fucking killed. I need to cut off the head of the snake. Everything, everything we have all been through starts with Arziani. The gulags, his contact with the Durovs. Levan Jakhua worked with Arziani, using Anri and Zaal as his prototypes. Then we found out how he keeps so hidden—by using drugged killers as assassins. They take out anyone who is a threat.” Kisa blinked, then blinked again when what I was saying hit home. “You believe he’s coming for us. You believe that now we know about him, he’ll send another Valentin.” Her words were not a question. Because she knew what she said was exactly what I’d been thinking. An ache caved in my chest, and I leaned in to run my lips over hers. “If he came for you. If someone took you away from me . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “Stop,” Kisa said, moving back to press her finger over my lips. I took her hand in mine. My mind took me back to the gulag. I could still smell the dankness of the cells. I could still smell the richness of the blood spilled hourly in the ring. I could still feel the heavy veil of death that draped us all, waiting to strike, waiting to deliver another soul to hell. “Luka, lyubov moya, come back to me.” I gasped as I heard Kisa’s soft voice cut through the memory. I tightened my grip on her hand. Once again I looked down to her stomach. My teeth clenched together, then I said, “I have to find a way to take him down. I can’t, I won’t, have our baby brought into this world knowing that the male who condemned me, us all, to that life is still breathing, still stealing children from homes, forc- ing them to be killers.” A tear escaped Kisa’s eye to fall to our clasped hands. “Luka,” she whispered, “this man scares me more than anything else in the world.” Dropping my forehead to rest against hers, I replied, “That’s another reason why he needs to be put out of our misery. I want our version of a normal life. I want this Bratva life with you, with my new brothers and our families. But as long as that prick lives, it can never happen.” I paused. My hand, still on Kisa’s stomach, felt a tiny kick. My eyes darted to my wife’s stomach. Kisa laughed a single watery laugh. She covered my hand with her own, just as our baby kicked again. Leaning forward, Kisa pressed her lips to mine. When she pulled back and I saw the love she had for me written on her stun- ning face, I knew I had to remedy the Arziani problem quickly. I had two months until our child came into this world. What that world would look like depended on me. A world free from any threat to our lives. That meant Arziani dead. His guards slaughtered. And the Blood Pit burned to ash.
Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city. After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel. Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters. Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels. When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.
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![]() WANDERERby Janine Infante Bosco Nomad #2 Publication Date: March 7, 2017 Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Romantic Suspense NOW AVAILABLE!99c (Release Day Only!) or #FREE with #KindleUnlimited!SYNOPSIS:Cobra I’ve lived two lives. One full of innocence and one full of sin. I mourned the perfect life I was born into and made it my duty to chase the phantom who stole it from me. Revenge, mayhem and loss are all I know. I am the lone man—I am the wanderer. The former nomad—now, Satan’s deadliest soldier. The two worlds were never supposed to collide. Innocence and sin aren’t made to coexist yet somehow my past bleeds into the present and I find myself facing my biggest regret…I find myself face to face with her—the girl who got away. The girl I let go. The woman I’ll ruin if I stay. Celeste Our young love was marred by violence. Our guilt destroyed us, fate tempted us but, it was he who broke us. They say time heals all, but all time did was dull the ache of his abandonment. Now, dressed in leather, covered in ink the boy I mourned is now a man—a man tormented by his demons. In another life we were everything to one another. In this life we’re strangers. *NOTE* Each book in the Nomad series can be read as a STANDALONE. ![]() #WANDERINTOCHAOS![]() #WANDERER - Excerpt© Copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved by Janine Infante Bosco Drawing in a deep breath, I reach for the knob, twisting it until I open the door and step into dangerous terrain. Closing the door behind me I stagger into the darkness of the room, feeling along the walls as I walk further into Cobra’s territory. A waft of stale smoke assaults my senses as I glance around the small, dated room. My roaming gaze comes to a halt, landing on the man twisted in the sheets of the bed. Tucking my bottom lip between my teeth, a wave of longing washes over me as I stare at the corded muscles of his back and all the colorful tattoos that seem to take up every inch of his skin. So many colors, so much story in each piece. As I gravitate toward the bed the urge to trace every single one consumes me. It’s not the promise of the man I’m hooked on. It’s the man. It’s this incredibly mysterious man that I used to know. “I’m not dreaming,” he mumbles into the pillow, startling me. My knees touch the edge of his bed as his thick, raspy voice blankets me and sends a shiver up my spine. It’s not new—that voice was there years ago too. It’s the voice of sex, of carnal pleasure and the promise of bliss. It’s predatory, feral and so damn tempting. “No you’re not.” The words are a breathy whisper, a tone he’ll recognize. One that is as sinful as his. We’re in trouble. So much fucking trouble. His head slowly rises from between the pillows and his eyes slice to me, squinting as if he’s witnessing a mirage. “Feel you in my bones, Cel,” he explains huskily before dropping his face into his pillow. “I’m sorry, Deuce let me in. I could go, maybe—” He rolls over on his side, the sheets twist at his waist, leaving very little to the imagination as his eyes skate over me. “Don’t know why you’re here, don’t care too much either, but thankful as fuck for whatever brought you here, gorgeous,” he says, a lazy smirk tipping his lips as he extends a hand. “Get over here,” he demands. I should have been prepared. I should have known that a higher force always has a plan for us. I should have been stronger. I should have known he’d hook me with a look and I’d crawl into bed with him. I should have known old habits are hard to break. I should have known old loves never die.#THENOMADSERIESDON'T MISS THE BIKER FULL OF DIRTY PROMISES! GRAB YOUR COPY OF #DRIFTER, BOOK #1 IN THE NOMAD SERIES!AVAILABLE #FREE with #KINDLEUNLIMITED!SYNOPSIS:
“Stryker”
I’m a drifter. A man born to ride through this world alone. There used to be a time when I thought I was the rescuing type. I enlisted in the Marines and made it my duty—I was going to save lives. I was going to be a true American hero. But God had another plan. Or maybe Satan did. For everything I touch finds mortality. I’m no hero. I’m nothing. I’m a veteran biker, a former nomad who survived war only to live in hell. Now I ride with the Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn and I’m drifting into a different kind of chaos. The kind that revolves around a pretty girl with intoxicating green eyes. A girl who has the power to turn me inside out. A girl who doesn’t need anyone to rescue her because she’s her own savior. Until she’s not. But a man plagued by war and the devil inside him can never be her hero.
Gina Spinelli Strong. Independent. Fierce. They are the three things I strived to be. But sometimes being successful can be lonely. Sometimes a girl just wants to be a girl and have someone take care of her. Maybe even love her. Sometimes the strong become vulnerable. Or worse, the victor becomes the victim. Sometimes we lose control or in my case it’s stripped from you. Defeated. Broken. Haunted. They are the three things I have become. In my darkest hour I admit defeat. In my darkest hour I need one person. I need him. Stryker. ***NOTE: DRIFTER is a STANDALONE novel. Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, sensitive subjects, offensive language, and mature topics. Recommended for age 18 years and up. *** #DRIFTINGINTOCHAOSABOUT JANINE INFANTE BOSCOJanine Infante Bosco lives in New York City, she has always loved reading and writing. When she was thirteen, she began to write her own stories and her passion for writing took off as the years went on. At eighteen, she even wrote a full screenplay with dreams of one day becoming a member of the Screen Actors Guild. Janine writes emotionally charged novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself. She is proud of her success as an author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.Website • Facebook • Twitter • ENTER THE GIVEAWAY
Coming March 20th
Vaughn Johansson is the Nashville Assassins' star player. He's brash, cocky, and talented. And he isn't afraid to let anyone know it. He lives his life on his own terms, never forming romantic attachments, and only allowing his very closest to see his true, caring self. Brie Soledad has the weight of the world on her shoulders. As the staff reporter for the Assassins, she balances a high-profile job and it's heavy travel schedule with being the sole provider for her adult brother with Down syndrome. Sure, she'd like to find love. But who has time for that when there are bills to pay? Brie has been the match to Vaughn's gasoline since the day she first held out her microphone to him. They strike sparks off each other, keeping their friends, the team, and the Assassins fans in stitches. Brie’s refusal to fawn over Vaughn sets his teeth on edge and his blood boiling. Especially in that body part... Brie's been let down by love before, but she knows she deserves nothing less than real, forever love. Vaughn's past has left deep, hidden scars, and there are some secrets he cannot bear to reveal. As much as Brie wants him, Vaughn may be too big a risk for her wary heart to take. But he’s is at his best under pressure. When the delayed call is in effect and he has no choice but to score, Vaughn always delivers.
My name is Toni Aleo and I’m a total dork. I am a wife, mother of two and a bulldog, and also a hopeless romantic. I am the biggest Shea Weber fan ever, and can be found during hockey season with my nose pressed against the Bridgestone Arena’s glass, watching my Nashville Predators play! When my nose isn’t pressed against the glass, I enjoy going to my husband and son’s hockey games, my daughter’s dance competition, hanging with my best friends, taking pictures, scrapbooking, and reading the latest romance novel. I have a slight Disney and Harry Potter obsession, I love things that sparkle, I love the color pink, I might have been a Disney Princess in a past life… probably Belle. … and did I mention I love hockey?
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Title: All the Frogs in Manhattan
Author: Carrie Aarons
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 5, 2017
Blurb
You know how Cinderella had the whole glass slipper, pumpkin carriage, fairy godmother thing? Yeah…with foot-destroying stilettos, Uber, and a Twitter horoscope, my life is far from a happily ever after. In fact, instead of Prince Charming, I end up dating every slimy, scaly, brainless frog in the kingdom of Manhattan. And by frog, I mean all of the stereotypical bad guys that Mom and Lifetime movies warned you about. The meathead player. The mommy's boy. The namedropper. The cheapskate. If they suck at relationships, I’ve probably kissed those cold, clammy lips in the hopes of finding love. Until one day, when one man with commitment issues offers to help me find the Romeo to my Juliet. But what happens when the frog, who was never supposed to turn into a prince, kisses you at midnight? Ok fine, he propositioned me for some afternoon delight after brunch, but not everything can be straight out of a fairytale.
99c for release day only
Free in Kindle Unlimited
Author Bio
Carrie has wanted to be an author since the first time she opened a book. She loves spinning tales that include dapper men, women with attitude, and the occasional hunky athlete. When she isn't in what her husband calls a "writing coma", Carrie is freeing up her jam-packed DVR, starting her latest DIY project, or planning her next travel adventure. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, who is more than happy to watch sports while his wife plots love stories.
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Title: Defiance
Series: Smirnov Bratva #3
Author: TL Smith
Model: Jacob Wilson
Photographer: Wander Book Club
Designer: Romantic Book Affairs
Genre: Mafia Romance
Release Date: March 11
She was promised to me.
I was promised to her.
She was the daughter of a drug lord,
I was the cousin of one.
Together we could have been beautiful.
Oh, so beautiful.
But beautiful doesn’t factor into my life.
Death.
Destruction.
Pain.
That was my life.
She’d had her taste of it.
But was she really ready for it?
Because I lived in hell, and my wife would soon be Satan’s bitch.
She wouldn’t be prepared.
She could never be.
AMAZON * AMAZON UKAMAZON AU * AMAZON CAONLY 99¢ FOR A LIMITED TIMEAMAZONAMAZON
T.L Smith Lover of chocolate, books, but mostly words.
T.L Smith loves to travel, loves to shop for books, sometimes shoes ?
Don’t be shy about contacting T.L Smith, she doesn’t bite, hard!
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Book Blitz March 3rd 2017
Title: Lucky
Author: Carina Adams
Release Date: March 1st 2017
Cover Designer: Melody Simmons
Everyone loves Lucky # 7.
Heâs the whole package â smart, athletic, and sexy as sin.
A filthy talking bad boy, he can have any woman he wants.
Except me.
A chance encounter. One unforgettable night.
Thatâs all we could ever have. At least, thatâs what we tell ourselves.
Fate has other plans.
If anyone found out, I would lose my job.
He could lose his scholarship.
Some things are worth the risk.
Sometimes, you have to cross your fingers, roll the dice, and hope lady luck is on your side.
Carina Adams has been writing and creating characters for as long as she can remember, allowing her to fall in love with the next man of her dreams with every new story.
Thankfully, fate stepped in and granted her the ultimate wish; a life full of men. Carina lives in a picturesque New England town with her husband, the one man that ruined the thought of all others, and two amazing sons that always keep her on her toes.
When she isnât trying to juggle being a working mom with karate and football practices or surprising her children with her sci-fi character knowledge, you can find her with her nose buried in a steamy romance or researching area ghost stories.
Always Been Mine is Carinaâs first published book and she loves to hear feedback from her readers.
You can email her at: carinaadamswrites@gmail.com
Facebook: http://bit.ly/2lQk2xm
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2modMQD
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2l6SlmO
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Coming March 10th
EPISODE TWO: As a calculated assassin, Ripley thrives on always being in control. But when the woman he’s sworn to kill makes an offer he can’t refuse, his control is what he risks losing most.
Ripley They call me RIP. I’m a killer. A murderer. A psychopath. In the eyes of the righteous, I’m a monster, born of sin and depravity. I want to protect her, but I’m not a good man. I want to love her, but I no longer feel. She gets under my skin, though, and has awakened something inside of me. Something I’d kill for. I’m not her savior—not even close. In fact, I’m worse than the hell she’s already suffered. I’m her vengeance. Tit for tat, as they say. And if she’s not careful, I’ll be her ruin. Dylan For months, I’ve watched him. I’ve fantasized him as my savior, my lover. My ticket out of the hell I’ve lived in for the last six years. I never dreamed he’d be my nightmare. Had I known what he really is, I’d have never gotten in the car that night, but life is full of cause and effect. And sometimes the choice on offer isn’t a choice at all. It’s the result of something already in motion, and we’re merely left to survive the ripple effect. *This is an erotic suspense/erotic romance not recommended for readers under the age of 18 due to graphic violence and sex. Drip. Drip. Drip. My mind fights the all-consuming blackness closing in on me as I lay on the thin mattress whose springs poke into my back. The beams above me shiver with dust that falls on my face every time he walks overhead. Chains beat against the cement wall I’m tethered to with every tremble that wracks my body. Drip. Drip. Drip. Somewhere water leaks an incessant pounding in my skull, and I count every drop. Six hundred thirty-eight. Six hundred thirty-nine. Six hundred forty. A cold, moldy scent invades my nose, and the cough that rattles my chest turns into a gag, staving off the impending black hole I’m being sucked inside. He stole my pills, and what feels like shards of broken glass rolling inside of my stomach keep me from falling asleep. Not that I want to sleep. Not that I could. But I need to, because the pain is too much. It claws my insides like a beast, desperate for escape, demanding more of the sweet venom, the nothingness that keeps it tucked deep inside of me. Muscle spasms create a line of tension through my body, so taut, I feel like my limbs will snap away. “Help me! Fucking help me!” My words bounce back at me from the walls, all hoarse and scratchy as though I’ve been screaming for days. Have I? I’ve blacked out a few times, only to wake to that dripping noise and the incessant pain. I’m sweating in spite of the frigid tendrils that snake beneath my skin like frost crystals. My body shivers and sickness twists my insides into a nauseating roil, threatening to climb my throat any second. I need my pills. “Please!” I turn my head in time to expel the bile shooting up my throat. Fire trails behind it as the acids burn my nostrils with another heave. Over and over, I choke, head slung awkwardly to the side as the fluids leak down my cheek. A coughing fit steals my next breath and another round of bile splashes on the floor somewhere beside me. An ache throbs in my skull as I lay back onto the bed and the churning in my stomach intensifies. The sensation of bugs scampering across my arms jerks my muscles, and I shiver at the crawling of my skin. I cry out, kicking against my binds. “Get off of me! Get off!” It doesn’t go away, though. It intensifies, a nightmare come to life, and I’m certain there are spider legs beating against my flesh, digging, attempting to burrow themselves into my bones. “Get off of me! Oh God, get them off of me!” Urgency tugs at my gut. I need to use the bathroom more than I ever have and the panic sends me kicking and screaming. Bloating in my stomach balloons and the pressure to release has me arching up off the mattress. No, no, no. Please not this. I’m going to soil the goddamn bed and be forced to sleep in my own filth. Everything flicks to blackness. In dreams, I’m carried into a bathroom, my whole body quaking and jerking. I want to get away, but comfort blankets me in the warmth of the stranger’s arms and the heat of his skin as I lay against his solid chest. A harsh and blinding light beats down on me. Focusing through the glare, I stare at a set of angel wings inked across his chest and a crisp orange scent that is both delicious and nauseating overwhelms my senses. My stomach feels light when he sets me down and the heat washes over me in waves of bliss. Soft cotton trails down my temple as he wipes a washcloth over my face. He pushes the wet strands of hair from my eyes, and my breathing calms, as I stare into the multi-colored eyes of a monster.
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Keri Lake is a married mother of two living in Michigan. By day, she tries to make use of the degrees she's earned in science. By night, she writes dark contemporary, paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Though novels tend to be her focus, she also writes short stories and flash fiction on the many occasions distraction sucks her into the Land of Shiny Things. For news, updates and sneak peeks at the sexy cover model candidates for her annual Cover Model Contest, subscribe to her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/HJPHH
Book Blitz March 3rd 2017
Title: Lucky
Author: Carina Adams
Release Date: March 1st 2017
Cover Designer: Melody Simmons
Everyone loves Lucky # 7.
Heâs the whole package â smart, athletic, and sexy as sin.
A filthy talking bad boy, he can have any woman he wants.
Except me.
A chance encounter. One unforgettable night.
Thatâs all we could ever have. At least, thatâs what we tell ourselves.
Fate has other plans.
If anyone found out, I would lose my job.
He could lose his scholarship.
Some things are worth the risk.
Sometimes, you have to cross your fingers, roll the dice, and hope lady luck is on your side.
Carina Adams has been writing and creating characters for as long as she can remember, allowing her to fall in love with the next man of her dreams with every new story.
Thankfully, fate stepped in and granted her the ultimate wish; a life full of men. Carina lives in a picturesque New England town with her husband, the one man that ruined the thought of all others, and two amazing sons that always keep her on her toes.
When she isnât trying to juggle being a working mom with karate and football practices or surprising her children with her sci-fi character knowledge, you can find her with her nose buried in a steamy romance or researching area ghost stories.
Always Been Mine is Carinaâs first published book and she loves to hear feedback from her readers.
You can email her at: carinaadamswrites@gmail.com
Facebook: http://bit.ly/2lQk2xm
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2modMQD
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Cora Matthews grew up with the Adams boys, twin brothers and best friends who wouldn’t let anything come between them except for one thing—her. One of them became her best friend, the other, her fiancé. She always knew she’d wind up marrying one of them, and Jacob Adams is the very epitome of Mister Right. At least he is up until he fails to show up for their wedding day. Not that Cora realizes it. At first. As Jacob’s best man, and identical twin, Matt makes a split second decision, but one that will affect the three of their lives forever—he steps in to take his brother’s place. In front of the altar, exchanging vows with the woman he’s secretly been in love with for years. Cora eventually finds out about the groom swap. The morning after the wedding. As if realizing she just slept with her fiance’s brother wasn’t disturbing enough, she’s forced to confront her feelings for Matt Adams she thought she’d buried years ago. Matt’s wrong for her. In every way. But through the course of her real honeymoon with her fake husband, she starts to uncover truths both Adams brothers were hoping to keep hidden, for opposite reasons. One to protect himself, the other to protect her. She married the wrong brother, but what if he’s been the right one all along?
“So?” I crossed my arms and leaned into the banister behind me. “Did you? Like my brother?” She sighed, turning toward the open door. “Jacob . . .” “What? It’s a fair question.” I shoved off the banister, feeling hope and heat tangling in my veins from the look on her face, from the sound of her voice. She’d felt something for me, whether it be the most passing of crushes or something much deeper. Realizing that had me feeling drunk from something other than alcohol. “Besides, you’re stuck with me now. Won’t matter what you ’fess up to.” Cora started through the doorway. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Grabbing the suitcases, I followed her. I wasn’t letting this go. Never. Not if she threatened death or castration or anything else. “Why not?” She broke to a sudden stop a few feet inside the room. “Because I don’t want to focus on the past. I want to concentrate on the future. That’s not going to work if you keep asking me questions about Matt.” There was a sharpness in her voice—one she didn’t use too often. She didn’t want to keep talking about me, which only made me want to continue talking about me. I’d struck a nerve, but I wasn’t sure how deep that nerve went. I needed to know how deep it went. I had to know. My whole life, I’d been under the impression that Cora saw me as nothing more than a good friend and substitute brother. She cared for me, but not in the same way I cared for her. Or did she? “This thing with Matt . . .” Her back stiffened. “Was it a thing? Like ancient history? Or is it still a thing?” I closed the door and wondered why I could feel my heartbeat in my eardrums. She kept her back to me, standing in the middle of the dark room like a lone ship on a vast ocean. “I married you.” Yeah, she did marry me. “But if he’d made a play for you, way back before all of this”—I waved my finger between the two of us, not that she could see it—“would you have given him a chance?” “He never made a play for me.” Her voice sounded faraway, like she was out of reach when she was less than an arm’s length away. “That doesn’t answer my question.” I stepped closer. “If he had? Would you have?” Her back was moving faster from her quickened breathing. This conversation was making her uncomfortable. Why was that? “Stop, Jacob. Enough.” She spun on me, swaying in place just enough that I reached out to steady her. She shook my hand away like it was white-hot. “I’m not going to get into another fight with you over Matt. I’m done. I picked you. I married you. What else do I have to prove?” “That you don’t—” “I don’t love Matt!” Her arms flung out at her sides as her voice spilled across the room. ‘There. I said it. Are you happy now? Are you happy we’ve managed to get into another argument over this infatuation you’re convinced I have for your brother? On our wedding night of all times?” She glared at me with bleary eyes. I couldn’t tell if that was from tears or from alcohol. Maybe both. “Cora, I’m sorry.” I ran my hands through my hair, wondering what in the hell I was doing—for the millionth time that day. Deceiving her, betraying her, and now accusing and angering her. Maybe I didn’t know the first fucking thing about love. Maybe Jacob knew more about it than I did, because I wasn’t sure love was supposed to hurt as badly as this did. “Just . . . enough already.” As she shouldered past me, I reached for her, but she shook me off. “I need to be alone.” She slammed the front door behind her a moment later, leaving me alone with my idiocy. “Cora,” I called to an empty room. I wasn’t thinking when I rushed toward the door after her. “Cora!” The moment I pulled the door open, something crashed into me. It made a sharp breath rush out of my mouth as I staggered back a few steps. My arms barely had time to wrap around her before Cora’s mouth was on mine, moving in such a way that made staying upright next to impossible. Before I had a chance to catch up to the fact that I was kissing Cora in an entirely different way than we’d kissed at the wedding and reception, her fingers were working at my belt. Quickly. I didn’t know she’d already gotten it undone before she’d moved on to my zipper. The sounds she was making as she kissed me, the way her body felt aligned against mine, the way her mouth knew the intricate balance of submission and domination . . . one moment at a time, Cora was crushing the last remnants of my resolve. Destroying the final pieces of my views of right and wrong.
Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.
Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.
Title: Dark Protector
Author: Celia Aaron
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 27, 2017
Blurb
From the moment I saw her through the window of her flower shop, something other than darkness took root inside me. Charlie shone like a beacon in a world that had long since lost any light. But she was never meant for me, a man that killed without remorse and collected bounties drenched in blood. I thought staying away would keep her safe, would shield her from me. I was wrong. Danger followed in my wake like death at a slaughter house. I protected her from the threats that circled like black buzzards, kept her safe with kill after kill. But everything comes with a price, especially second chances for a man like me. Killing for her was easy. It was living for her that turned out to be the hard part. Author's Note: This is a full-length romance novel. Explicit violence and hot sex included. HEA, no cheating.
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Author Bio
Celia Aaron is a recovering attorney who loves romance and erotic fiction. Dark to light, angsty to funny, real to fantasy—if it’s hot and strikes her fancy, she writes it. Thanks for reading.
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Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple. Ace has been keeping secrets, and not just from his club brothers. Secrets have a way of coming back to haunt you. All of his are about to be revealed, whether he’s ready to face them or not. A Disciple will fight like a savage—even against his past. When Quinn waltzes into the Disciples' clubhouse, she's only after one thing—and it isn't Ace. She wants closure, an end to what they started so long ago. But with the heat exploding, Ace and Quinn are far from over. When this biker is forced to confront his past, everything will ignite. Quinn After our ride, I was silently thrilled Ace brought us back to the house. Max was around, and I didn’t want to be a crappy friend who ditched her after she came all that way just to check on me. When we walked in, Max and Ham were both there. I had no idea what to make of that, but with both the guys hanging around, I couldn’t ask. Instead, I was stuck agreeing to the invitation for us to order in pizza with them and chill. “What on it?” Ham asked as Ace and I settled onto one of the couches. “Pineapple,” Max responded. Ham pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me you’re fuckin’ with me, babe,” he demanded. She wasn’t. I knew this. In all our years of friendship, we’d never actually shared a pizza. It always came down to ordering two so I didn’t have to choke down the gross concoction she called pizza toppings. “Just wait,” I warned Ham. “What the fuck could be worse than pineapple on pizza?” Ace asked. I looked at Max. “Tell them,” I said with a flick of my wrist, indicating she proceed. “I like pineapple, olives, green pepper, and some kind of meat, but I’ll take whatever,” she stated, unabashed. Ham blinked, stared at her, then blinked again. It seemed to drag out for a solid minute. Then he found the response of, “That’s the most disgusting fucking pizza order I’ve ever heard.” “It’s good!” Max insisted. “Toots, in what universe do pineapple and marinara go together?” Did he just call her toots? He totally did. And it wasn’t in a funny, fifties throwback way. He just called her that by rote. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. I also don’t get sauce on it,” Max enlightened him. “You get sauceless, pineapple, olive, green pepper, and mystery meat pizza?” Ham verified. “Yep.” Ham looked at me with what seemed to be a bit of concern on his face. “Where the hell did you find her?” I laughed. “We were roommates in college. Randomly put together freshman year.” He looked between us, then smiled in a way I could only describe as salacious. “Damn, I am getting a beautiful picture right now,” he said. I didn’t inform him the actual picture wasn’t all that great. Mostly, we sat around in sweatpants studying or watching Netflix. Why all men thought women being alone together meant the clothes just disappeared, I did not know. If I had to guess, I would probably blame porn. “Before you start picturing it, I was religious about making sure there was a sock on the door and a warning text, and Quinn heeded both every time,” Max informed him. That was true. Max gave me as much warning as she could manage before bringing guys to our room, and I was fortunate enough to never accidentally miss any of those warnings and walk in on something I did not want to see. “Not enough to kill the dream,” Ham muttered. “Unless she’s held out on me, I’m pretty sure there was no lesbian experimentation either,” Ace added. I gasped and slapped his shoulder. “Not in the room anyway,” Max muttered. I gasped again. “Seriously? You never told me that!” She shrugged. “It was one time at a party. A bunch of frat guys dared us to make out. Nothing special. She was a good kisser, though.” Ham cursed in a way that made it clear her words offered a mix of pain and pleasure. “It’s why I let her slide into second base before I shut it down,” Max went on. “Okay!” I cut in. “How about we get back to the pizza?” “Buzzkill,” Ham said under his breath. “Don’t worry,” Max assured quietly, but not quietly enough, “I’ll tell you the whole story later if you’re good.” “Baby, I can be as good as you fuckin’ want.” Turning to Ace, I spoke soft enough the other wouldn’t hear. “I don’t think I want to eat meals with the two of them ever again.” “Noted,” he replied, grinning at my discomfort. Jerk. “How insistent are you on the pineapple thing?” Ace asked then, getting Ham and Max’s attention back on us. “Completely,” she and I both answered—her firm, me resigned. “No way in fuck I’m eating pineapple on fuckin’ pizza with no sauce,” Ham stated. I was pretty sure that was seconded by me and Ace without asking. He went on. “Not eatin’ pineapple at all.” “Why not?” Max asked. “It’s good for you. And guys really should.” “Why?” I had the distinct sense I would regret the question as soon as the word left my mouth. “Because it’s supposed to make their cum taste sweeter.” Good Lord. I was right. I didn’t want to know. “Can we please just order food?” I asked, my face on fire. Max ended up with a pizza—if you could call her monstrosity that—of her own, while Ham, Ace, and I shared a classic pepperoni. We’d all finished our meals, with only Max’s pizza having any leftovers, when Daz came striding in. “Fuck yeah, pizza!” he exclaimed. He flipped open the box for the extra large the guys had destroyed with only a little help from me, then moved to Max’s, looking at it for a second before asking, “What’s on this?” We answered, and he stood there for a long moment before shrugging and taking a slice. “You’re gonna eat that shit?” Ham asked. “Still food. Besides, pineapple’s supposed to make your cum taste better,” he replied. “See?” Max cried. “We both need new friends,” I declared, and Ace laughed. “I’m only kind of joking,” I informed him. “Think we’re stuck with the ones we’ve got,” he replied, just as Max shouted, “Bitch, you’re stuck with me!” “So much for being able to pick your friends.” Ace pulled me in close to his side, until I had no choice but to settle my head against his shoulder. As he did, I watched Max’s face get soft. Maybe my best friend wasn’t so bad after all.
Drew Elyse spends her days trying to convince the world that she is, in fact, a Disney Princess, and her nights writing tear-jerking and smutty romance novels. Her debut novel, Dissonance, released in August of 2014. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found over-analyzing every line of a book, binge watching a series on Netflix, doing strange vocal warm ups before singing a variety of music styles, or screaming at the TV during a Chicago Blackhawks game. A graduate of Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English, she still lives in Chicago, IL where she was born and raised with her boyfriend and her prima donna pet rabbit, Lola.
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“You Tully?” I jerk my chin at the guy standing at the security booth after he speaks, then throw a look of appreciation at the bouncer who led me over here before he steps away. “Name’s Mark. I’m running things tonight. It’s good to have you,” the guy says. We shake hands. “Yeah. Don’t mention it,” I reply. He looks around the venue and gestures. “Packed joint tonight. Shouldn’t get too crazy with this band and the crowd it’s bringing out, but we never wanna risk it. It’s good having backup.” “How many of us you got?” I ask him over the music when the band starts playing, leaning closer to hear his response. “You and another guy who’s already here. He’s hanging out up by the stage. Plus a bunch of our guys.” He hooks his thumb at the floor to ceiling windows along the front of the building, adding, “I got some uniforms on the street keeping that shit under control in case people get tossed out.” I nod, liking what I’m hearing. The Red Door isn’t the biggest venue I’ve worked security on, but it’s big enough. Managing this shit alone can present a challenge. And by the looks of it, it’s a sold out show. More eyes we got on the crowd, the better. “You run into any problems yet?” I ask. The guy shakes his head. “Nah. Just normal shit. People trying to sneak in their own booze,” he replies, glancing at the door where everyone is filing in. “Confiscated it. No issues. Everything else seems to be running smooth.” “Good,” I say when I meet his eyes. “I’ll keep near the back since the other guy’s covering the front. I’ll come to you if I run into any problems.” “Sounds good, man.” We exchange another hand shake, then I step away and move through the crowd. I stop near the center of the room and stay to the back like I said so I can have full view of the floor that’s packed with bodies, some keeping position and others moving away from me, pushing to get closer to the stage. Bringing my arms across my chest, I stand tall and do a sweep of the place. I’ve been here before so I know the layout. There’s a bar to the right of where I’m standing, stretching the length of the wall. Restrooms are behind me. Other than the hallway leading to the rooms behind the stage where bands hang out, there’s isn’t much that isn’t visible. Plus, it’s one level, standing room only, so I don’t gotta worry about another floor I need to cover. Should be an easy gig. I do shit like this on the side for the extra cash. Venues hosting concerts are always looking for cops who are willing to come out and beef up security. We stay in civilian clothes so we blend in, and unless I’m having to act on something, I typically get out without anyone knowing I’m a cop. Easy money. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. I look back to the dance floor. The lights are dimmed. Red and blue strobe lights positioned on the ceiling illuminate the crowd, along with the bright, white lights shining from the stage. Visibility is good. Another plus. I worked a few of these where it wasn’t and that only presented problems. But here, I can see faces. Can see other shit going on too if someone’s dumb enough to try something too. I anticipate it. Events like this always bring out some of the stupidest motherfuckers. Which is exactly why they like having us work these things. Security can only do so much. I’m three songs into the set when the beat picks up. The bass vibrates along the floor. I feel it pulsing in my feet. The faster rhythm stirs the crowd and shifts them around. More bodies gather and move closer to the stage, jumping up with their fists in the air and belting out lyrics, drawing people away from the bar. Others stay toward the back where there’s room to dance. That’s where I’m looking, and that’s where I see her. Blonde. I blink. My eyes refocus. Then I stare at waves the color of sand flowing down the back of a tiny thing swaying to the music. Shirt tied off at the waist. Lower back showing. Hips shaking in some tight as shit black jeans. Ass looking fucking incredible. Damn. She reaches above her, bends her elbows and rakes her fingers through her hair, lifting it off her neck as her body keeps moving in ways I feel straight in my cock, then after letting her arms drop, she looks toward the bar with eyes searching, giving me full view of her profile. My chest grows motherfucking tight. I blink again, thinking I’m seeing things. Riley Tennyson wets her lips. Fuck. I’m not seeing things. Jesus Christ. This is just what I need. Working this shit, needing to stay focused and eyes alert to all bodies in this room and now I know for damn sure that’s not gonna be happening, meaning this gig just went from easy to really fucking complicated. There’s only one body I’m interested in keeping eyes on and it’s the one making my dick hard. Motherfucker. Riley Tennyson is gonna fucking kill me. I pull in a deep breath, watching that sweet face get ripped out of view when Riley looks toward the stage again. She keeps dancing. Keeps shaking that perfect ass and swaying those perfect hips, fingers curling in and lifting those long waves again, also perfect. Every part of her. Every fucking inch. Perfection. And I’m not even considering what she’s got going on in the front. Shouldn’t even be considering it—we’re friends, she’s taken, and I’m not a fucking asshole—but that didn’t stop me all day when I couldn’t keep those spectacular tits off my mind, even going a step further into crazy when I shared that with her through a text. I need to quit now. Stop this shit. I can avoid it. I got options. Switch with the guy hanging up by the stage, hoping Riley keeps her location. Or fuck it. Just pull out of this gig all together. Make up some excuse. I don’t need the cash. I don’t need to be staring. I sure as fuck don’t need to be getting hard right now. I got options. Just need to pick one. Simple. Yeah… Real fucking simple. I breathe in deep again, letting it out slowly. And I do this staring at her. Only at her. And the more staring I do the more I start to notice, like how she seems to be out there dancing alone, not with another person or a group of friends she came with. People around her are keeping to themselves or appearing to be together, throwing their arms around each other or sharing looks. Acting friendly. Just not with her. Riley isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes. She’s not trying to talk to anyone. She’s in her own little world. She’s here alone. He made her come to this shit alone. Anger fills me. My jaw flexes while the muscles in my arms and shoulders start locking up. My choice of options just grew by one. Instead of charging through the crowd which, no lie, is exactly what I want to be doing right now, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out my phone. I shoot out a quick text. Me: Tell me he’s here. Lifting my eyes, I watch as Riley pauses mid ass-shake, slaps her back pocket, tugs out her phone and brings it in front of her. Her head tilts down, then a second later it’s lifting and she’s searching all around where she’s standing, peering around people and standing taller. She finds me when she finally twists around, head first and then body following. Her lips part. Her blue eyes go round, flames burning me up like they always do. Riley starts moving my way and my eyes lower, first to her mouth, watching the slow smile twist across it and take shape. She looks happy to see me. I shouldn’t put stock into that but I do. It’s what I want. Then my eyes keep dropping and I get full view of her tits. Her full, heavy, perfect fucking tits. Sitting high behind her tight white shirt and bouncing with her steps. Jesus Christ. My new friend has tits like that. And by the looks of it, she didn’t bother putting on a bra either. What the fuck did I do in a previous life to deserve this kind of torture? “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming to this,” Riley says all sweet sounding when she reaches me, stopping close and offering me a smile. Sweat gathers on her brow and in the hollow dip in her throat. She shoves her phone away and questions, “Why are you standing all the way back here? Don’t you wanna get closer so you can see the band?” “Working,” I tell her, lifting my eyes before I punch a hole through my jeans. I tuck my phone into my back pocket, adding, “Trust me. I can see plenty from where I’m standing.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. Riley blinks, then looks to my chest. “You’re not wearing your uniform,” she observes. I squint at her mouth. I got what she said, but I can barely hear her over the music. I don’t like that. I want to hear her. “Come on.” Grabbing her elbow, I pull Riley with me to the back corner of the room, stopping beside the hallway that leads to the restrooms and crowding the wall. It’s as far from the speakers as I can get her unless I take her outside, and I’m not sure I want to do that. Only `cause I know I’ll want to leave with her. Meaning I absolutely want to do that. Shoulder pressing to the wall, I release her elbow after tugging Riley close. I pull my arms across my chest. “Not typically something I wanna advertise when I’m staying undercover,” I say in response to her observation. “Oh.” She looks up at me, smiling and lifting her shoulders with a jerk. “Cool,” she says. I can see Riley better where we’re standing now. The hallway light is shining on her, making her skin glow. I look her over. She wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her in. Black lines her eyes and her lashes are darker. Thicker too. I like that. Her cheeks are flushed from the dancing she was doing. That combined with the whatever she’s got on her face is hiding her freckles from me. I don’t like that. But I don’t tell Riley. I keep looking. Red lips, full and shiny. Cock sucking lips. I know that from experience. Shit. Don’t go there. I focus on her eyes again. Blue and black, fading out to grey. Like a storm coming… “You totally still look like a cop,” Riley shares, jarring my focus. The corner of her mouth twitches. “You’re not fooling anyone, CJ Tully.” My brows raise. “Yeah?” She nods, laughing. “You look scary and pissed off. Smile a little.” I don’t smile. Not even when she amps hers up and gives it to me, pairing it with another soft giggle. I get straight to the point with her because getting off point with Riley is gonna lead to this shit getting even more complicated, and fuck, I’ve looked enough tonight to run the risk of major fucking complications. Plus, she’s laughing. Smiling. Looking like she’s thinking the same things I’m thinking. Get to the fucking point, Tully. “You gonna answer my question?” I ask. Her brow furrows. “What question?” “I asked you if he was here,” I remind her. “Oh.” Nodding, Riley looks behind her in the direction of the bar, then meets my eyes again. “Yeah, he went to get a drink. He doesn’t really want to be here. I kinda dragged him out.” “Why?” “Why what?” “Why’d you need to drag him out?” Riley tilts her head. “Because… he doesn’t really want to be here?” she repeats slowly, looking puzzled. “I just told you. He doesn’t like The Killers.” “So?” “So?” “Yeah, babe. So.” She straightens her head, but her eyes narrow as if she’s thinking hard. “You’ve lost me,” she shares. “Forget it,” I mumble, looking away, knowing I got no business getting up in her shit the way I’m doing. I need to back off. “No. What? Tell me.” Riley reaches out and places her hand on my forearm. I look down and watch her black painted fingers wrap around and curl under. I feel them squeeze. Our eyes lock. “Tell me,” she pleads, looking close to begging for this. My blood starts running hot. Scorching. Hot. Fuck it. I’m getting up in her shit. “I’m here because I’m working for extra cash, not because I’m digging the music,” I share, staring into her eyes and seeing hers staring back, like what I’m revealing is something she needs to hear, not just something she’s curious about. “Don’t hate it. I listen to stuff like this on occasion but it ain’t something I’d pay money to see. That being said, my woman wants to come to a show like this, crowd this size, booze flowing, other shit possibly going on, she ain’t coming alone. No discussion needed. I could hate this music to the point it makes my fucking ears bleed and I’m still going with her.” “Why?” Riley asks. “To protect her?” “That.” I jerk my chin. “And `cause she’s mine and a real man can deal with shitty music for a few hours if it means putting in time with his woman.” Riley drags her teeth along her bottom lip. Her chest starts working harder, moving stricter with her breaths. I should stop now. The way she’s looking at me… I should stop. I don’t. “Saw you dancing and thought you were here alone,” I add, smirking. “Already hate that motherfucker for what he gets to touch every night. I thought I was gonna have to kill him.” Riley stares up at me. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. “Babe,” I probe. “You shouldn’t say that,” she says, face serious. Her hand squeezes tighter. She’s anxious now, maybe. Or pissed. I don’t know. I decide to ease her mind if it’s nerves getting to her. “I wouldn’t really kill him.” My smirk grows into a smile. “Mess him up though.” “No. Not that.” She shakes her head. “The other thing. What he gets to touch. You shouldn’t say that.” “It’s true.” “Even so. We’re friends. You shouldn’t say it.” I bend to get closer. “You might wanna take your hand off me if we’re friends, darlin’.”
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Author: JaniceBBBf-sizzlereads-bestbookboyfriends & L.A.B.B Archives
December 2020
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