Title: Love Brewing Series: Love Brothers #3 Author: Liz Crowe
Release Date: March 2, 2015 Paperback Release: March 14, 2015
The Love Brothers ~ Family saga with humor, heat and heart…not to mention beer, bourbon and basketball.
SYNOPSIS
Every family has one—the black sheep, the problem child, the prodigal. But Dominic Sean Love could teach all of those guys a lesson or two. Stuck in the middle of a boisterous group of siblings, he’s given “acting out” a new meaning from the day he drew his first breath. While he’s the one son who follows his strict father’s footsteps into the Love family business, he’s also the one who butts heads with him the hardest. Their epic clashes are the stuff of family legend. But they have made peace and work side by side to take Love Brewing to the next level of success. Until Dominic does the one thing his father can never forgive. Diana Brantley has been Dominic’s friend, girlfriend and ex-girlfriend so many times she’s lost count. When he shows up at the farm she’s slowly transforming into a wildly popular farm-to-table resource for restaurants all over the U.S. her first impulse is to shoot first and ask questions later. But she doesn’t. And their lives entwine once more, for good, bad and ugly.
PURCHASE LINKS #3 Love Brewing (Amazon only for 90 days) US: UK:
TRAILER for the series, produced by Fiona Jayde Media, starring model Scott Nova, photography by Taria Reed. Narrated by Daniel Dorse, who will record all the books for Audible.com
EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEAK AT CHAPTER ONE:
Diana patted Pepper’s flank as she released him into the paddock then leaned against the barn door, relishing the soreness in her muscles. The sun burned a white hole in the light-blue late summer sky. Smells of her childhood filled her nose, smoothing her edges. A bit of coolness in the air, heralding the coming seasonal transition sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. Masie, the pregnant cow, uttered a low moo, snapping Diana out of daydreaming about her favorite season—the hunting kind. It brought her long to-do list flashing across her brain, reminding her she still had to finish mucking out the rest of the barn. The garden was in desperate need of weeding, too. The last of her tomatoes were due in and her sister had already sent three texts that morning about the chicken salad Diana still had to make and get over to the shop. With a heavy sigh, she let the light wind cool her skin. Her arms burned and her thighs shook in a wholly welcome, familiar way, post long ride. She dropped onto the overturned bucket from the horse’s cool-and-wash. “Go on, get out there, ya big baby.” She smiled when the huge animal nuzzled her shoulder before he trotted away obediently, sticking his nose into the water trough, tail flicking lazily, indicating satisfaction with the morning’s proceedings. Bees buzzed, the cow made another lowing sound, late season locusts hummed, and the sun heated her skin. Drifting, her mind calm and free of Jen’s endless demands and catering menus she let the sweet sounds and distinct odors of her family’s farm soothe her. When the horse whinnied and snorted, Diana ignored it and stretched her legs out. One of the dogs let out a loud bark then the other two joined in. They sounded delighted, so Diana figured that her sister must have arrived in the catering van to pick up the chicken salad—the one Diana hadn’t even started yet. Deciding to pretend she was alone a minute longer and enjoy the peace and quiet she always found in the barn, Diana closed her eyes. “Hey.” A distressingly familiar male voice hit her ears. “Um…Diana?” She blew out a breath, unwilling to acknowledge how much she would have given at one point in her life to hear that voice say her name again. “What do you want?” “Just a place to crash. Hide a bit, I don’t know.” “Why now? I thought you and your folks were gettin’ on like a house afire.” She tried to keep the anger out of her words, but it was nearly impossible. “Diana. Please.” She opened her eyes and observed the man she’d loved as long as she could recall. Dominic Love stood in front of her dressed in, of all things, a pair of dress pants and crumpled, long-sleeved shirt. A red tie hung loose around his neck. He had his blond hair scraped back and tied at his nape so she could see he’d added more body art. He stood still, hands tucked in his trouser pockets, his expression scarily blank. She rose and smacked the dust off her ass then stood, arms crossed, willing him not to be there, not to tempt her, because God help her still loved the man, despite how badly he’d treated her. “I am not letting you back in my bed, Dom.” When the corner of his full lips lifted in a smirk, she imagined how satisfying it would feel to smack it off his face—with a blunt instrument. “Not asking for that…yet.” “Go to hell.” She brushed by him, forcing him out of her brain. He snagged her arm and held on tight. “I’m already there, babe, trust me. I swear I just need a friend right now and someplace to lay low. I’ll help around the place, you know that.” As if on cue, the horse bumped Dom’s shoulder, shoving the man forward. The grip on her arm tightened and Dom leaned in close. She yanked away from him, keeping her gaze on the far horizon and her mind on the fact that if she went with her gut right then, she’d pull him back into her life, no questions asked. “You can sleep out here.” He let go. “Thanks, babe.” She clenched her jaw. “Stop calling me babe, you shit-heel, motherfucking, selfish, cheating asshole.” “Okay,” he muttered, but his eyes were bright in a way she knew well. She walked away, letting the memory of their last, and she believed final, fight fill her mind, fueling her fury as she put one boot in front of the other, placing as much distance as she could between them. The dogs circled her legs, escorting her en masse to the door. It slammed, cutting off their nervous whines and snuffling, leaving her standing in the middle of her outdated, overworked kitchen. Usually being in this room helped her forget all the crap going on in the real world while she transformed the various vegetables from her large garden and the meats she’d either hunted or raised herself into meals fit for a five-star restaurant. She shook her head. There were no five-star-restaurants in her universe and there never had been. Even thinking those three words in that order caused heat to rise up her neck and into her face at the memory of her ex-husband—the man who’d swooped in right after Dominic’s last rejection of her and convinced her that he would open the restaurant of her dreams, using the inheritance money she’d saved. Yeah, that had worked out not-so-well. Men. Stupid, lying, cheating men. Stupid me and my stupid need to have one nearby all the stupid time. Her hand landed on something substantial and her fingers curled around it. She picked up the cast iron pan slowly, contemplating it for a split second, recalling she’d left it out to use for frying bacon. With a noise between a grunt and a yell, she put every bit of long-forgotten frustration into the effort to fling the pan at the door. At the last second she worried she might hit one of the dogs. But there was no canine yip of pain. They’d vacated her immediate area, likely sensing the temper eruption on her horizon before she did. It did bust a satisfying hole through the screen at the top of the door and hit the back porch railing with a musical clang that echoed back to her still burning ears. She blew her hair out of her eyes, ready to tackle the next thing on her long to-do list—this time free of any memory of her last disaster of a relationship. That loser—now officially her ex-husband—had been floating through, setting up some chain restaurant over in Lexington. Memories of his handsome face and lying mouth rolled through her head even as she tried to halt them. A real five-star restaurant, Di, he’d liked to say, usually when they were naked. That and, You should try it, and, I could use thirty thousand of your dollars to make it work, plus, let’s get married! And they were naked a lot. Diana groaned and leaned over the sink for a few seconds then straightened. She had too much to do. There was no time for that kind of useless reminiscing. Damn Dominic Love to hell and back for showing up and sending her into this tailspin. She grabbed her mother’s soup pot, slammed it into the sink and starting filling it from the leaky tap. A breeze lifted the lace curtains at the window, stirring the hair around her face. She smelled the rain a few seconds before it let loose, pounding onto the grass between the kitchen window and the barn. Squinting through the sheeting water she spotted Dominic standing in the middle of the paddock, seemingly impervious to the deluge. Pepper trotted over to see what could possibly make the tall, yellow-haired male human stand in the rain like an idiot. When Dom didn’t respond to nudging, the animal gave every appearance of shrugging and glancing in her direction with a whattaya gonna do look before getting under cover in the barn. Within a very few minutes, Dom’s drenched dress shirt clung to him. She watched, gape-jawed and shivering as he yanked his hair from its tie and shook it free, turning his face to take the full force of the increasing downpour, arms outstretched as if preparing for crucifixion. Then he seemed to disappear in the space of a blink. She turned off the tap, which was overflowing the pot by then anyway, and ran out the door. Heart pounding, ears ringing with well-remembered panic over what she might find, she took the expanse of grass between house and paddock in a few long strides. In her fury at how casually he’d sauntered back into her life that morning, she hadn’t thought to study his eyes very closely. Diana had memorized long ago how Dominic’s deep-brown gaze took a particular edge, a kind of sharp, distinctive sparkle, when he hovered on the verge of a breakdown. The rain soaked all the way to her skin by the time she rounded the post at the paddock. At a burst of lightening, she flinched and started counting, only getting to three seconds before the ear-splitting thunderclap. She squinted, seeking a prone, muddy Dominic. But the paddock was empty. Cursing, she glanced back at the house. It was pretty well futile to run back now that she’d gotten drenched. She mirrored Dom’s earlier stance, letting the rain pound against her cheeks, forehead, and lips. Lightning flashed. Thunder followed. Laughter bubbled up from her throat, only getting louder as she realized what an utter whack job she must be, out there, cackling and drinking rain.
ALSO RELEASING MARCH 2, 2015 #1.5 SAFE LOVE: A BONUS Love Brothers Companion Novella
SYNOPSIS
Antony Ian Love has a lot on his ample shoulders. He owns and runs a small business, is estranged from his teenaged daughter AliceLynn, his beloved mother is dying of cancer, and he’s come face to face with his youngest brother Aiden’s sudden reappearance into the Love family circle. Years of sublimating his true self in deep mourning for his long dead wife have hardened the surly, emotional shell he’s nurtured, but one woman seems to have broken through. Rosalee Norris is the young widow of Antony’s best friend Paul and their mutual sorrow and close friendship has slowly morphed into something more.
Family therapist and recent divorcee Margot Hamilton is dropped into the close-knit Love family by necessity but fate has a real design twist in mind. With her heart and mind closed to anything resembling an emotional connection, Margot is shocked to discover something about Antony the very first time they meet–something she tries, and fails, to resist.
SAFE LOVE, The Love Brothers novella is a tale of love’s realistic complications within the saga of family devotion that runs as wide and deep as the Ohio River–except on Sundays when brothers Antony, Kieran, Dominic and Aiden work out their frustrations on the basketball court, Love brother style.
“I’m going to try a little experiment with you.” She came around the side of the desk and headed to him, just as he jumped to his feet. “Sit down, Antony,” she said, using her best ‘take no shit’ voice as she invaded his personal space with the blindfold in one hand. “It will be all right, I promise.” He shook his head but sat, leaving her standing over him, which gave her a shiver of anticipation that she promptly quelled. His strong arms hung loose at his sides, his jeans clad legs sprawled out, too long for the chair. She stood behind him and placed the black silk blindfold over his eyes. After tying it in a way she knew would be nearly impossible to release, she placed her palms on his broad shoulders. As she had hoped, his thrumming, nervous energy calmed under her touch. Too easy, she thought. Not good, she also thought, tamping down the extreme urge to lean over him and lick her way up his neck. Instead, she spoke into the air over his head. “Now, tell me one thing you miss about Crystal.” “Uh…” he said, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “It’s…um… been such a long time and I…” “One thing Antony, quick, without thinking too hard.” He took a long, shuddering breath. “Her lips.” “Okay, now another thing.” She kept her hands pressed on his shoulders, willing him to be calm and to open up to her. “Her ass,” he ground out. She smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. One more thing please.” “Her…” He sucked in a breath. “The way she’d be in charge.” “Hmm…” Margot said, willing herself to stay put, to not place herself in front of him and do what she really wanted. “And what do you mean by that? She balanced the checkbook?” “No,” he whispered. “Okay then. Where was she in charge?” She caught herself even as she said it, implying that Antony’s wife had been “in charge” in a specific place. It cut to the chase, so why not? “I’m, um…not really comfortable with this.” His leg was jittering up and down as tension rose in him again. Margot took a deep breath, cursing her body for betraying her. She squared her shoulders. “I know. That’s why we’re not looking at each other.” Unable to stop herself, she leaned down and put her lips near his ear, sucking in a huge breath of leather, a hint of smoke, cotton and a clean, soapiness that made her want to weep. “It’s all right. I’m in charge in this room so you can just…relax.” She saw him grit his teeth and knew he was trying hard to do the exact opposite of what she was telling him to, so she tightened her grip on his shoulders, not an easy feat considering how firm they were. A point had to be made and she knew her options for making it were limited, since she’d promised herself that this would be nothing more than a therapy method. “The bedroom,” he said, so low she barely heard him. “Crystal was in charge in our bedroom, in private. It was…something we…liked.” Margot straightened, smiling but shaking at the same time, even more confused about how to proceed. Keeping her hands on him, knowing he required at least that much from her, she got herself under some modicum of control and plowed forward. “How was she in charge?” “Oh, I’m pretty sure you know,” he said, surprising her with the sudden strength in his voice. “And I’m also pretty sure I’ve told you enough.” He jumped up, ripped off her un-rip-able blindfold, sending it fluttering to the floor in two strips of black fabric and kicked the chair out of the way. She stumbled, blinking fast, brain spinning and body going into overdrive at the look on his face. He was begging her now, using his unconscious body language, but she could not—she would not—give into the urge to shove him to his knees. Her butt hit the bookshelf, making her stumble and curse. Antony stopped, looming over her and sending out the sort of obvious vibe she’d spent years coming to terms with and assuming she understood—until recently. “Step away from me,” she said. “This isn’t what you think.” He frowned and got even closer, pissing her off and making her inner self rise up and take over. She put her hands on his impossibly firm chest and shoved, forcing him to move out of her personal space so she could breathe and process how quickly she’d lost control of the situation. Typical, she thought with a shudder of disgust. No wonder Gavin left you. You’ve gotten weak. Antony bent down and picked up the pieces of the blindfold. When he held them in his outstretched hands, his expression did nothing to dispel her dismay. “Sorry about this,” he said. She grabbed them, her heart pounding way too fast. “Get out,” she whispered. “Just go. I’m sorry. I can’t…do this.” “You’re the only one I’ve ever told…about Crystal and me and what we…you know, liked.” She willed away the girlie tears. “I know,” she said. “It’s not something you’d share with your brothers.” Antony chuckled and ran a hand around the back of his neck, breaking the tension in the room enough for her to breathe again. “I, um, I’m engaged. And I love her, Rosie, and her boy.” He dropped his gaze to the carpet. Without thinking, Margot tilted his face up, ignoring that strange electrical charge that snapped between them. “It took me nearly four years to even kiss her, Rosie. And we only just… um…” A charming blush rose from his neck to his face, making Margot faint with lust. “I don’t know why in the hell I’m telling you this.”
Amazon best-selling author, beer blogger, brewery marketing expert, mom of three, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville currently living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.
Her early forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”). More recently she is garnering even more fans across genres with her latest novels, which are more character-driven fiction, while remaining very much “real life.”
With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished. Don’t ever ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.
There is a giveaway for $40 + $10 Amazon gift cards,
choice of an entire series by Liz (ebook only: Stewart Realty OR The Black Jack Gentlemen OR Turkish Delights)
& single book of winner’s choice from Liz 25 book backlist!
Leaning across the bed, I grab a condom from the side table and hand it to her.
“Put this on me,” I say firmly.
Her eyes snap up to mine lightning fast. “I don’t know really know how. They taught us on cucumbers and bananas in sex ed during high school, but—“
I can’t contain the chuckle that erupts from my throat. “Consider me your human test dummy then. We’re going to talk about long-term birth control, but until then we’re using condoms. You’re going to want to get used to putting them on me because we’re going to be spending a lot of time in bed.”
I give her room to maneuver so that she can sit up. Sitting back on my haunches, I watch as she opens the foil packet. It’s a struggle not to beg her to hurry when she wraps her hand around my cock just below the tip. Holding me steady, she gets the condom into place and starts rolling it down. Covering her hand with mine, I help her roll it the rest of the way.
“Was I doing it wrong?”
“No, but I’m faster and I need to be inside that tight pussy right now.”
Her half gasp, half giggle is enough to make me insane. Settling her back on the bed, I spread her legs and lower myself over her. After making sure that she’s ready for me, I slowly begin to slide in.
Her slick heat envelops me like the tightest silken fist I’ve ever encountered. I want to be inside of her without anything between us so fucking bad that I swear I’d pay any amount of money to make that happen.
We both let out sounds of pleasure as I settle in as far as I can go, and I jerk against her when she grabs my ass in her hands.
“Fuck me, please,” she says with a gasp.
Shaking my head at her with a laugh, I cover her mouth with mine and kiss her senseless. All the while continuing to pump slowly in and out of the most incredible woman on this fucking planet.
She breaks the kiss to let out a moan. “Faster,” she cries.
“No,” I say firmly. “Last night was fast. This morning is for slow and steady. I don’t want it to be over quickly—I want to fuck your perfect pussy for as long as possible. I want you to come on my dick again and again. It doesn’t always have to be fast to be good, beautiful. Let me show you all the ways that you can come.”
Raised on fairytales and dreams of true love, Arden Winger left for college with a smile on her face and a happy, hopeful heart. Fast-forward seven years and that small town is behind her, but not the baggage she’s been carrying since she left.
Just a city boy…
It’s not that Exton Alexander had anything against relationships—he just never had the desire to try. Not necessarily jaded, Exton considered himself a realist. Little did he know, the one woman that would change everything was about to rock his world. This Alpha male knows the second he lays eyes on her that Arden is special– now he just has to work past her defenses.
Ella Fox writes like a woman possessed whenever she gets the chance! She is the author of The Hart Family Series, The Renegade Saints Series and The Catch Series.
When she’s not writing, Ella indulges the gypsy in her blood and travels the country. Ella loves reading, movies, music, buying make-up, reading Tmz, Twitter and pedicures… not necessarily in that order. She has a wild sense of humor and loves to laugh. Her favorite thing in the world is hanging out with her family and watching comedy movies.
Justice Morel always had her life perfectly planned. Her goals were to graduate from the University with exceptional grades and get into the best law school Canada has to offer. Then one day, Justice tried to kill herself. Well, not her technically. It may have been Justice Morel’s body, but those actions weren’t intentional and the suicidal thoughts were not hers. Or, so she keeps telling her therapist and family.
Justice is afraid she’s losing her mind and just wants to forget everything. But when her best friend is murdered, another one is being mind-screwed by a Vampyre, and her ex is back in town, looking as scrumptious as ever and very suspicious, maybe she isn’t all that crazy!
Just when she thinks that life couldn’t throw her anymore curve balls, Justice figures out that she is Vampyre Doll and there’s a vampyre who seems very familiar to her, but she can’t figure out from where.
Justice is suffocating and drowning in a dark world she’s been tossed into, forced to survive. It’s a world she never wanted to know about and would love to ignore, like it doesn’t exist. But, with every passing day, she’s pulled deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole, wishing for everything to go back to the way it was.
Growling, I appeared in front of Amelia, standing in the scarlet moonlight, too quick for human eyes to comprehend. “Get, out!” and I pushed her—fangs and all. She stumbled backwards unto the wet, mucky cement, swallowing the panic and the urge to scream in terror at the Vampyre she claimed to love, once upon a time.
Veins pumping, breathing ragged, I bellowed for Amelia to escape. With each step I advanced towards Amelia, she crawled backwards in fright, tears streaming down her face, until finally, she got up and sprinted into the darkness, stumbling a few times but keeping up with my forced pace and callous words.
I heard Amelia gasp when she encountered the back wall, frantically seeking out her escape, and she winced when I reached around her to open the chamber doors, but instantly pulled away when my hands began to seer and burn.
A nasty snarl bellowed out of my throat as I cursed, realizing this was indeed my punishment. Amelia scrambled from beside me, terrified to be so close, when just a day ago she couldn’t keep her hands off of me.
Hurrying back into the rouge lighting in sheer terror, Amelia ran without another word, escaping into the shadows of the dungeon, and she shrieked for salvation that never came.
I’m just an awesome stay at home mother, of two beautiful babygirls and I love anything to do with the paranormal world. Author, reader, blogger. Wife to the luckiest man on the planet. Inspirational quotes, meditating and photography I appreciate. Sailormoon, movie-holic and hopeless Romantic. Lactose intolerant but I love cheese pizza. Shopaholic and I’m an Aries.
*From International Bestselling authors Callie Hart and Lili St. Germain comes a tale of two families co-existing in a melting pot of violence, murder and drugs in the seedy underbelly of New York City*
Hell’s Kitchen
Theo and Sal Barbieri are brothers, tasked by their Mafioso father Roberto with a very clear purpose: kidnap Kaitlin McLaughlin. The beautiful daughter of Roberto’s Irish enemy. It’s high time Kaitlin was punished for her father’s sins—not to mention, her own.
And Operation: Kidnap Kaitlin is a roaring success… until it isn’t. When Kaitlin escapes into the busy streets of New York City, it’s a race against the clock to find her before Sal and Theo become the hunted.
Zeth Mayfair has traded his life as a hitman for a quieter existence, but it isn’t long before the past catches up with him in the form of Roberto Barbieri. Will he succumb to the lure of power that Roberto is offering? Or will he retaliate by killing every last Barbieri in New York to get them off his back?
Jason Ross is running. Woken in the night by a tip that the Gypsy Brothers are coming for him, he packs a bag and gets his girlfriend the hell out of dodge. Arriving in New York City in the midst of a heatwave is one thing, but being tailed by an entire drug cartel is another.
Worlds collide in Hell’s Kitchen as secrets come to light and sins are punished. Because we might be different in the light of day, but in the darkness, we’re all connected somehow.
Hell’s Kitchen is a serial comprising three volumes: Hell’s Kitchen, Tribeca and Bleecker Street.
Volume One releases on March 3rd with a limited-time sale price of 99 cents
Meet some of the players…
Excerpt #1
“What time they due to land?” Sal asks. He loops a tie, pre-knotted and ready to go, over his head. “Twenty minutes.” With traffic the way it is, we’ll be there in ten.
Sal tightens the tie around his neck, placing the ridiculous fucking chauffeur’s hat on his head. He tucks his hair back behind his ears. He needs to cut it, but will the bastard listen? Hell, no. He never listens to a word I say. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I take my eyes off the road, arching an eyebrow at him. Who the hell does he think he’s talking to? I’ve been doing this job longer than him, after all. I’ve never blinked. Never not been ready. He gets the point pretty damn quickly.
“All right, man, I’m sorry.”
When we arrive at the airfield, we’re directed to hangar twelve, no questions asked. Paddy McLaughlin’s own men would have arrived around now—if we hadn’t already beaten the shit out of them and handcuffed them to a pillar inside an old cardboard factory down on the wharf—so we’re expected. Kaitlin McLaughlin’s plane is delayed. I’m already bored and itching to go by the time the private jet touches down. Sal climbs out of the car and leans against the front passenger door, waiting for the prissy Irish princess and her entourage to exit the plane. When she does, we’re in luck.
Normally, Paddy doesn’t send his little girl anywhere without two personal bodyguards. Today, she’s only accompanied by one. Sal taps the hood of the car as he goes out to take her bags. I have the engine purring in anticipation as he opens the back passenger side door for her and she climbs inside.
Huge sunglasses cover her eyes. That full mouth of hers is perfectly visible in the rearview, though. “Where the fuck is Ray?” she asks. Her father may be first generation Irish, but Kaitlin was born and raised in the States—she sounds like a spoiled little Yank bitch.
“Mr. McLaughlin needed him for something else. He sent us instead.” She slides the sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, peering at me over the car’s half-raised privacy screen. “And who are you?” I give her a tight-lipped smile, doing my best to keep my tongue in my head. We need the bodyguard to get in the car, and then we’re golden. Until then, I’m Jerry, the friendly town car driver. “Jerry. My buddy there, that’s Gareth. We’re new.”
“I can see that.” She makes a low, humming sound at the back of her throat. She sounds like she approves. Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t touch crazy pussy. But I will introduce you to my old man, all the same. He just can’t wait to fucking meet you.
The door behind me opens and I feel the car dip as someone gets in—I didn’t notice before, but the lone bodyguard with Kaitlin is a woman. Must be the chick Roberto was talking about. I get a good look at her in the rearview and find myself taking a second one for good measure. She’s blisteringly hot. Maybe in her mid-twenties? Long dark hair, tied back into a braid. High cheekbones. A mouth to rival Kaitlin’s. Her tits strain against her tight black shirt as she twists to put on her seatbelt. You can tell she works out; her clothes fit her far too well for her not to know she looks good in them, too.
Just like Kaitlin, she asks, “Where’s Ray?”
“Busy doing something for Daddy,” Kaitlin informs her, which saves me from spinning the lie again. “Okay. Straight to the bar, then.” The body guard’s head doesn’t even lift, but she’s a professional. She assesses me in the mirror just as I’ve assessed her. I pretend not to notice as Sal folds himself into the passenger seat.
“Of course.” I press the button for the privacy screen, raising it the rest of the way, blocking out all sound from the back of the car. Sal turns and gives me one of his wicked, crazy-ass grins. He’s enjoying this already. “All right, then, big brother. Let’s do this.” He leans forward and hits a button on the dash—and every single door on the town car automatically locks. “No backing out now.”
I burn out of the hangar to the sounds of muffled thuds from the back of the car. The bodyguard’s not stupid. She’s heard the doors locking and knows something isn’t right. “Motherfucker! Open this up right now!”
Normally there’s an intercom in these cars, but this one’s different. Sal and I smashed the shit out of this car’s intercom with two lump hammers and ripped out the wiring. We also lined the roof with lead. The girls in the back aren’t striking up a conversation with us any time soon. And they aren’t making any phone calls to dear old Papa McLaughlin, either.
As I head back toward the city, the shouting from the back gets louder. It’s accompanied by the dull thudding of feet trying to smash out the privacy screen. Sal raps his knuckles against the glass, grinning again. “Bitch sounds crazy back there. I don’t think she likes the modifications we’ve made.” I allow myself a small smile as we hit the George Washington Bridge, heading back toward North Manhattan. So far Operation: Kidnap Kaitlin has been a roaring success. Sal pulls out his cell and starts tapping into it with quick fingers. “Telling the old man we’re on our way?”
He nods. “Bastard better give us credit where credit’s due. He’s probably still organising his own fucking birthday party. Meanwhile, we have just successfully taken our mark hostage. We’re on the homeward stretch.”
The fucking homeward stretch.
The thing about saying you’re on the homeward stretch is that often it’s like waving a red flag at a bull. Fate must hear that phrase and decide to fuck over the poor schmuck who was dumb enough to utter it every single fucking time. It’s only seconds after Sal’s parted with those words that the electric window behind me—the bodyguard’s side window—shatters. We knew the bodyguard would be armed, but we didn’t expect anyone to be shooting out the damn side windows. An eruption of fragmented diamonds explodes sideways, spraying a bright yellow smart car with a million shards of glass. The sound of the firing gun is almost deafening.
“What the fuck?”
The smart car veers sideways, smashing into us; I press my foot to the floor, grinding my teeth at the sound of screeching metal and more hammering from the back as I swerve through the traffic. Sal twists in his seat, pulling his gun and pressing it to the glass of the privacy screen. His finger’s on the trigger. “She’s going fucking crazy. I’m gonna shoot the bitch.”
Excerpt #2
“When he lunges for me, I’m ready. I deflect the hand he was going to grab me with, slapping it downward, and then I grab onto his wrist, pulling him off balance. He seesaws forward but then rips his wrist out of my hand. I don’t expect him to turn his slight fumble to his own advantage, but he does. Dropping to the floor, he rolls and kicks out, landing a solid strike to my leg. I have less than a second to brace myself before I’m hitting the concrete. Then he’s on top of me. “Oh, this is fun, sweetheart. But I don’t really have time to be playing games with you right now.” He’s reaching for my arms, about to pin me to the ground, but I jab, landing a solid hit with my extended fingertips right in the base of his throat, in his windpipe. He chokes, his body falling sideways, and then I’m on top of him. Through watering eyes and a clearly sore throat, the guy grins up at me, shaking his head. “Well, if you wanna fuck me, I guess I could make some time.” Thrusting upward, he tries to unseat me, but I know this is what’s coming and I’m ready again. I compensate, leaning forward, pressing my gun into the guy’s neck. “Who are you?” His body goes still, his hands lifting so they’re palm up in front of him. “You know who I am, sweetheart. I’m the enemy.” “My boss has quite a few enemy camps. Which one do you belong to?” “The biggest one,” the guy says, smiling. “The Italian one.” “So you work for Barbieri?” “I am a Barbieri.” Lightning fast, he snaps his hand out and clamps it around my throat. The move catches me off guard, has me panicking for the first time. My gun is gone, then, knocked to the ground, skittering away across the blacktop. The guy’s hand tightens around the column of my neck, threatening to squeeze even harder. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Feeling a little lightheaded?”
About the Authors
Callie Hart
Callie has experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and molding her into the person she is today: fun loving, active, social, and hard working. The only thing that has remained a constant throughout her life is writing. Creating characters who will tear your conscience in two is a favorite pastime of Callie’s. There are few real saints and sinners in her books; more often, the denizens of her stories are all very human. Broken, flawed, and always with the potential for redemption. Despite the subject matter being markedly hot and heavy in comparison to the stories she wrote in elementary school, there will always be an element of fairytale to her work.
Lili writes dark romance, suspense and paranormal stories. Her serial novel, Seven Sons, was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to be released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, good coffee, Tarantino movies and spending hours on Pinterest.
She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.
BUY TICKETS HERE: Callie Hart & Lili St. Germain are coming back to the US! Just in time for the release of their joint project Hell’s Kitchen. Join Callie and Lili, Saturday March 14th, at the super cool Inspire News Cafe from 5-7 for a special printing and signing of their newest book and a Q& A session. Then, come upstairs to the Wayfarer Bar, from 7-9 for cocktails (cash bar) and laughs. It’ll be a fun evening with Hell’s Kitchen chatter, some themed cocktails, light bites and a chance to spend some more time talking about all things Hart St Germain.
**Books that are printed will be available for purchase for around $10. Exact price to be confirmed closer to event date. This is pretty awesome! The machine that prints books while you watch is one of only 30 in the world! You’ll be able to take away your unique, limited edition of Hell’s Kitchen, signed by both authors – There will never be others that look like the ones printed in Vegas. **Snack foods will be provided. **All drinks are your responsibility
The Venues Inspire News Cafe (downstairs) and Wayfarer Bar (upstairs) are both gorgeous, hip venues with kick ass atmosphere! The Wayfarer bar is where we’ll finish the night and is a gorgeous, mad-men inspired bar that will be closed just for attendees! BUY TICKETS HERE
Sweet revenge keeps her alive … and drives her to kill.
I am the forgotten one, the girl who was left for dead. In this mental hospital I call prison I plot my revenge. I remember everything. Their faces. Their touch. Even their smell. What they did to me was beyond cruel. I’m going to return the favor. In here I survive by using someone just as they used me. One of them wants to claim me as his own. A man without mercy, without a conscience, craving the wickedness inside me. But I won’t be a puppet for his desires. I will play his strings like a puppeteer and use him to escape. And when I do … I will kill them all.
This is Ashley’s story and the final book in the Delirious Series. This is a full-length novel. These books should be read in order.
WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, strong language, dubious consent, and graphic violence.
Excerpt
After he enters my cell, he closes the only window. The first thing I do is get up from my bed and drop down on my knees. I kneel in front of him as he comes toward me and stops right in front of me.
“Hmmm …” The low hum of approval has me shivering. I wonder if he will be quick and merciless. If it will be painful. If I will like it. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. If I have to fuck, I might as well enjoy it.
“What brings you to this position?” he asks.
“You wish for me to be submissive. I wish for my freedom. As you said, it’s give and take.”
“I like this,” he says. He bends over and tips my chin up to look at him. “You look beautiful, pet.”
He smiles the warmest, gentlest smile I’ve seen in a long while. His fingers caress my face as he looks at me intently. He leans in to kiss me, taking my breath away. His lips are soft and needy, so much so that I want to steal another one when our lips unlock.
He turns around and walks back to the table, grabbing a chair. He flips it to me and sits down with a coy look on his face. From under his lashes he gazes at me, and then murmurs, “Come here.”
I crawl toward him from the floor. In the meantime, he reaches into his pocket and takes out the remote that he uses to turn away the camera. After throwing it on the table, he pats his legs and says, “Sit.”
I do as he says, perching up to position my legs over his. He twists me so I’m facing away from him and folds my legs over his, spreading mine. One hand is around my waist, while the other is around my throat. His fingers pinch, and I let out a cough. It’s a soft warning of what he’s capable of should I disobey.
“Offering yourself like that to me … it gets me all riled up, you know that?” he whispers in my ear. His tongue darts out to lick me, causing me to shiver. “It makes me want to play with your pussy and fuck you until you come screaming my name.” His sultry voice ends in a moan, which makes me flutter with need.
His hand drifts down my stomach toward my sweatpants as he plants a kiss on my neck.
“Do it,” I murmur. “Take me.”
I’m not sure anymore if I say it because I want to escape so badly that I’d do anything for it, or if it’s because I’m aching for his touch.
It’s all I’ve felt for the past few months, and his desires are starting to consume my every thought. I let him use me in my cell, put his cock in places I’ve never allowed a man to go, and I let him bring me pleasure to the point of wanting it more than he did. I’ve done it over and over again until I couldn’t see the difference between what I wanted and what he wanted most.
Our desires have merged into one, and all I can think of is fucking and pain, coming and taking, obeying and more pain. My mind has been put on inactive, accepting all that he has to give. He’s even gotten me so far lost in his world that I’ve completely forgotten about why I did all of it in the first place.
As his fingers dip into my pants, my mind goes blank. Just like it always does when he takes what belongs to him.
He owns me. Not just my body, but my mind as well.
Clarissa Wild is the USA Today Bestselling author of FIERCE, a college romance series, but she’s best known for the dark Romance novel Mr. X. She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire’s Bet series, the Doing It Series and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.
*Warning: Contains cute winter scenes, adorable critters, violence, blood, guns, plenty of cussing, sensual characters with a hard ass mentality, explicit sex, and a warped sense of humor. Enjoy!*
Winter Beauman left behind glitz, glamour, and the Manhattan skyline for a calmer existence in Wyoming. Taking up welding, she built a life around the new talent in the tiny town, with no need to be anyone but herself.
Mason St. Croix spent five years alone reconciling the death of his wife, when he decided it was time to finally rejoin the living. Commissioning a custom sleigh to take presents to many of the children in town puts him face to face with the beautiful, and talented, Winter… making his long dormant libido roar to life.
But someone in town doesn’t want Mason and Winter to be more than acquaintances, and are willing to kill to keep it that way.
Searching for answers reveals secrets best kept in the dark, ones that could tear them apart. Mason and Winter find they must accept the pain from the past, or lose the light of a happily ever after.
Ignoring it, his clothes had dried, and he dressed quickly. Making the bed, he walked into the living room to find Winter bundling into several layers, a snow shovel leaning against the door. “I’m just in time,” he smiled.
“Come on, let’s get this over with,” she returned the smile from under a knit cap and the dark blue parka’s hood. It made her light blue eyes burn a deeper color, and accentuated the red lips against the paleness of her skin.
Taking a deep breath, and glad his coat didn’t let her see the way his dick liked her, he followed outside.
Snow flurries swirledaround them like a river, but it was light and the wind was easy. Unused to shoveling snow after buying a snowblower, he was breathing hard a foot from the porch. Winter continued, whistling. She bent over, and he noticed she wore jeans, low riders that gave him a glimpse of the dark blue g-string. His breathing escalated for another reason altogether. Images of removing the slip of underwear with his teeth, nibbling and licking the skin, making her moan, caused his heart to beat hard enough to force him backwards. The wall of snow kept him upright. He worked hard to get the image out of his head, closing both eyes and counting to one hundred.
“Are you okay? Do you need a break, Mason? Mason? Are you okay?” her voice grew stronger, more urgent.
He opened to find her only a foot away, a hand on his chest. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he croaked, “Yes, I, I …”
“Do you need to go inside?” She jerked off a glove and put a warm hand against his cheek. “You’re really hot, maybe we should go inside.”
The feel of her palm against his skin unlocked a dam. He shoved a hand into her hood, under the cap, grabbed a handful of the silky blonde hair, and pulled her head back. He stared into her eyes, gauging. “I’m going to kiss you, and kiss you hard, Winter. All you have to do is say yes.” His voice dropped several octaves, came out deep and harsh, much like his breathing.
“Yes,” she whispered, a puff of coffee laced breath gently pushing against his face.
It was all he needed. He took her mouth, pushing hard, forcing her to open to him. Taking advantage, he tasted her, the mocha laced coffee, and the underlying sweetness that was all Winter. Throwing the shovel to the side, he wrapped the other arm around her waist, jerking the soft body against his. Her moan vibrated against his mouth, and the imprisoned beast growled. Mine.
Using his tongue, he showed her exactly what he wanted, in and out of her mouth, tasting every inch between thrusts, giving her little room to breathe or decide to end it. He wanted her to know exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it, and that she was going to enjoy every minute. Her hips moved against him, and the beast he thought died with Beth roared to life.
Excerpt #2:
Mason signed the necessary paperwork, put in a report, and left. Outside the station, he hailed a cab, and watched the familiar buildings pass slowly in the early morning traffic. He’d seen the anger in Winter’s eyes, and knew what it looked like. Damn his stupid instincts. She could obviously protect herself if needed. She didn’t require a man to do it for her. She didn’t manipulate to get what she wanted, nor had she ever demanded he watch over her every move. Closing his eyes, the night flashed on the inner screen. He had to get it together. He’d taken time off work, saying it was a family emergency, and it was already getting close to Thanksgiving. Not that he’d had big plans. His parents were dead, no siblings, and he wasn’t going to spend the holidays with Beth’s family.
The cab came to an abrupt stop, and he handed the cabby the fare plus a good tip. Getting out, he stepped onto the sidewalk and stretched. Muscles protested, but nothing had been broken in the fight. A lot of bruises formed, and he couldn’t see out of the one eye, but otherwise, he was okay.
Stepping inside the hotel, he took the elevator to his room, and once inside, stripped. A hot shower was in order, and some serious soul searching. Part of him screamed to find and watch over Winter. She was still in danger, and alone. Word was her parents were going back to the Hamptons. The danger in Wyoming wasn’t likely to stay there.
A towel wrapped around his waist, he hit the power button, and sat on the bed. The news was the same thing, nothing good. There was a blip about a possible fight involving Winter Beauman, but it hadn’t been verified. He flipped the channels until he found an old sitcom. Leaving it, he noticed the red light blinking on his cellphone. Tapping the screen, he listened to the voicemails, saving a couple, deleting the rest. The final voicemail was from Emily, asking him to call.
He tapped her number in and stopped. Staring at the screen, he wondered why he was calling. He’d been clear about the boundaries. It was time to cut the cord. Deleting the numbers, he tossed the phone on the bed, and grabbed a pair of sweats.
Turning on the TV, he settled into the recliner. A noise woke him, and he opened the one good eye. He could hear rustling at the door, and frowned. Walking on the balls of his feet, keeping his footfalls quiet, he moved to stand on the side of the door opposite the handle.
He ducked at the sound of the shotgun cocking on the other side of the door, as the roar of a shot blew the door in. He caught the door, slamming it against the person trying to get in. He heard the groan of pain as it connected with the intruder’s face, and he rolled into the small entrance. One foot kicked out, the heel connecting solidly with the groin of the male.
“Call 911!” Mason yelled, the intruder falling onto his legs. He punched hard, hitting the man’s temple. The feel of the delicate bone crunching under his knuckles almost made him sick.
The body went limp.
Author BIO
Although she hates writing bio’s in third person, Trixie does love fast cars, fast men, and an enduring fascination with internal combustion engines. Living in the Rockies, she’s traveled enough to know the mountains are home. When not working, she can be found with her head under the hood, or buried in the pages of her next novel.
Taz: My life is finally perfect. My dreams have all come true. I’m where I want to be with the bureau; having the career I’ve been planning since I did my stint in the military. I’m married to the one and only woman I’ve ever loved; my heart beats for her alone. Together we’ve made beautiful babies that I adore. I’m thirty-three years old and I’m complete. Then one day, it all changes. Slate recruits me for a temporary assignment that is underneath the radar for a reason. The bureau hasn’t sanctioned it as a priority, but Slate feels it is because of who is involved: Sue Ellen Reynard. Yeah, remember her?
Lindsey: Our lives were perfect. Taz and I had everything we’d ever hoped for: family, careers and an everlasting devotion to one another. Suddenly nothing is the same. In a single moment, my biggest fear is realized by one phone call from Slate: an ‘agent is missing’. My agent; my Taz . . . This is just the beginning of our long journey. Will things ever be the same again?
EXCERPT: #1
Lindsey gave me the silent treatment on the way over to Ralston’s office. “How did you know where I was? I asked. “Slate.” “Hey, I said I was sorry. We’re not all that late,” I pointed out to her. “It’s rude to keep Dr. Ralston waiting, Trace. I don’t do rude. I thought this counseling was important to you, apparently I was wrong.” I stopped instantly and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her around to face me. “What the fuck, Lindsey? What’s up your ass at the moment?” She gave me a glare. “It just seems to me that you might find more productive ways to spend your time when you’re here other than flirting your ass off with the resident skank,” she snapped, jerking her arm free and turning her back on me. Fuck to the no! “Wait one damn minute,” I growled, spinning her back around to face me. “It just so happens I went to the shooting range because I’ve been trying to qualify to the new standards. It’s a requirement for all agents to recertify. Diana’s job is to ensure that they do.” “Hmmph,” she snorted derisively, “It looked pretty cozy to me, but that’s neither here nor there because it sounds to me as if you plan on continuing your career with the Bureau once you’re cleared.” “And why shouldn’t I? It’s the career I’ve had for years, what do you expect?” I was getting angrier by the second, and her eyes were flashing pure pissed green at the moment. Time for a showdown. “I don’t know why I would expect any less,” she snapped, “It’s always been about the FBI, right? It’s never been about me and the kids, has it?” That did it. I totally lost it when she flung those words at me. No matter how much I still didn’t remember, one thing that I knew, with every fiber of my being, was that what she’d just said had no truth to it. And what really burned my ass was that she knew it too! I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up against me. My eyes bored into hers and without thinking, I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her with a vengeance. It was the first time my lips had touched hers since I’d been back. There was no tenderness; it was my way of claiming her and taking possession of what was mine. She would not deny me this. Her fists pushed against my chest, and then she attempted to pull away, but her efforts were no match for my strength and determination. My lips worked hers, and my tongue invaded her mouth and possessed it. “Stop,” I growled pulling back briefly to look down at her, “Don’t resist me.” It was something I might’ve said to a perp that was resisting arrest, but at this moment, I was saying it to my wife. My mate. The woman that I loved more than life itself. And suddenly the realization that this was the truth overwhelmed me. My tempo slowed, morphing from anger to affection; and from frustration to need. Lindsey felt the change and stopped struggling against me. Her arms looped around my neck, and her lips started responding to mine. It was familiar, and as my tongue once again found hers, we struck a rhythm that was ours. I could feel her anger and bitterness dissipate. It was replaced with a soft sweetness that I remembered, and that I could totally bury myself into if only she would let me. “Taz,” she moaned softly, finally pulling back a bit. “Lindsey,” I breathed against her soft lips, my heart pounding in my chest. “Come on, we’ve got to make our appointment,” she said softly. And we did. It was the first joint session that we’d had where Lindsey took her place next to me on the leather sofa, instead of her usual chair in the corner. Ralston didn’t miss it either, quirking an eyebrow as his eyes met mine with just a hint of amusement. It was a fucking start.
EXCERPT #2
Lindsey: I took a shower and dressed for bed. Part of me hoped that Taz would tap on my door and suggest we continue what we’d started earlier, but the other part of me prayed he wouldn’t. What would that serve? I crawled into our huge bed and, for some reason, it felt emptier than it had over the past couple of months. I tossed and turned for a few minutes, punching my pillow several times to get it just right and then squeezing my eyes shut, trying to force sleep to descend upon me. As if that would erase the vision of my husband’s face, his eyes closed, calling Talia “baby girl” as she fucked him, that had now become etched in my brain. Fuck that bitch! He was my husband! He was my lover! His cock belonged to me, not her. By denying him what I desperately wanted every bit as much as he did, I was allowing that bitch to fuck me over! I am not a weak person. It’s time I claim what’s always been mine. I threw the covers off of me and traipsed down the carpeted hallway to his room, not bothering to knock on the door. I caught him by surprise as I threw the door open, and saw him standing in front of the tall dresser, rooting around for something to wear. He was fresh out of the shower; a white towel slung low on his hips. He turned around as he heard my intrusion. I didn’t pause in my mission, making my intent perfectly clear as I closed the distance between us, and with quick swipe of my hand, yanked the towel from his body. I didn’t miss the quirk of his brow as my eyes perused his body, loving every inch of it, and knowing it was meant for my enjoyment alone. It was my playground; my turf, and I sure as hell was claiming it again. “Lindsey?” “On the bed, Taz,” I said, meaning business. “I’m the only one that rides your cock.” A slow, sexy smile graced his lips The rugged appearance he now rocked as a result of his beard and dark, spiky hair caused me to take a deep breath as his arms reached for me.
I was born and raised in southern Ohio, and with the exception of a brief stint in Dallas, TX, have been an Ohioan most of my life. My dream has always been to write a novel, and back in the early eighties I tried to do just that, having been influenced by authors such as Kathleen Woodiwiss, Johanna Lindsey, Rosemary Rogers and Laurie McBain. I remember writing to all of them through their listed publishers, and the only response I received was from Johanna Lindsey (who lived in Hawaii at the time).
Ms. Lindsey advised me to continue with my dream; and to submit to various publishers again and again. Of course, at that time, publishing e-books yourself was not on the horizon; there were vanity publishing houses of course, but she advised me to avoid those.
So my dream was put on the back-burner for more than 25 years until June of 2012 when suddenly I no longer had a reason not to write a novel. My sons were grown; I found myself without a career (blessedly) and the creative juices flowed once again.
I finished my first novel, “Maybe Baby” in September of 2012; the next two books in the “Baby Series” titled “Baby Love” and “Be My Baby” were published in early 2013. I learned a lot in my first endeavor with self-publishing. I’ve made so many friends as a result that it is over-whelming.
In the spring of 2013, I had an idea for a different type of Alpha, and wrote Book #1 of the “G-Man” Series, titled “Diamond Girl.” This book was well-received, and I followed it with Book #2, “Love Plus One.” These are stand-alone books.
I am finally doing what I love and I sincerely appreciate the wonderful readers who provide feedback and take the time to comment. I hope that with each book, my writing has grown and improved as I strive to publish quality fiction..
I had a simple life. I worked two jobs, made ends meet, and hung out with my mom and twin brother. The other part of my life was about avoiding him, but when SWAT raided my boyfriend’s home, that was the last straw. The boyfriend got tossed and to help me keep busy, my brother talked me into joining their old band again, but I had to be honest. It wasn’t a hard sell. Playing drums was in my blood. I used to be addicted and that craving hadn’t been satisfied in three long years. The only problem was their lead singer. It was him. The drums might not have been the only thing I was addicted to. I think I was still addicted to him too.
Excerpt one: (Bri’s pov)
Luke hit a jarring note on his guitar below, drawing me from the past and back to reality. Seriously. I’d been ready to take on two thugs beside a dumpster for my stupid-ass cousin, but this had ice filling my veins. I rolled my eyes upward. What was wrong with me? The melody was addictive. I felt it reach deep inside me and take root. My breathing wavered as he kept playing. He moved down a chord, and the sound of it seeped into me, smoothing out the haunted memories. Then he began singing. His voice was soft and low, but I could hear it as if I were in the room. He was weaving a spell. It was like he threw a spear that had a rope attached to it at me from a hundred yards away, and it embedded deep into my stomach. Then he began pulling on it. I couldn’t fight because it would yank out my insides, but damn, I didn’t want to go with it. This whole thing with Luke was both painful and exhilarating at the same time. I had two urges going through me at once. One was to crap my pants, and the other was to start doing cartwheels. I was just messed up, which is why I started down the stairs. I still had no clue what to say, but I had to do something. He was hunched over the guitar in his lap with a beer at his feet. His eyes were closed, and his head hung over the guitar as he hit another chord, his thumb beating out the base. Since he was only wearing jeans, I saw some of the scars on his back. A storm of regret, shame, and longing all swirled inside me. I wanted to go to him, run my hands over those scars, and make them disappear. I couldn’t, though. We weren’t close anymore. So many ghosts within you So many haunts to pull you away You look, I reach out and there’s nothing to do They take you from me again, far away I can’t, I can’t, I can’t take your hand He kept singing, and my heart felt like it was splitting into two, but then he faltered. His eyes opened, and he looked up. He didn’t stop playing, but he stopped singing. I felt like he was strumming me. I couldn’t look away from his gaze. His thumb stopped hitting the bass, and his fingers slowed on the guitar. “What are you doing here?” Right. I was pretty sure I was seeing lust in his eyes. With that thought, a fever took over my blood, heating me up. “I,” my tongue wet my lips, “um, I’m here to talk about you and me.” His gaze clouded over, and his eyelids lowered. He bent his head back over his guitar, but he didn’t start strumming again. “There is no ‘you and me.’ You’re in the band. That’s it.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Luke,” I started. “No.” He stood up abruptly, setting his guitar to the side. He advanced toward me, his eyes were smoldering. When my back hit the wall, I realized I had nowhere else to go and could only watch as he closed in on me. A part of me wanted him to keep getting closer; the other part of me was still thinking about crapping my pants. He leaned a hand against the wall beside my head, keeping a few inches between us. His eyes were hard as he said, “There is no you and me. That died long ago, remember?”
Excerpt two: (Luke’s pov)
I’d been tense from watching Bri on stage, and it hadn’t lessened as we ran through the woods. If there was another remark about her, I was ready to swing. I didn’t care how big they were. Gunn had been watching me. He moved close and said under his breath, “If it happens, I’ll do it.” “Why?” “Because we need your pretty face for the fans.” I looked up to see if he was serious. He was, but he relinquished, “Kidding. If you have a busted face, I think Priss would piss her pants from excitement.” Braden had overheard him and laughed. “No, shit. That’d be leaked to the gossip shows in two seconds flat. I swear, she has all the numbers for the gossip channels on speed dial.” The football players had gone ahead, but stopped and waited for us. The third one asked, “What’s going on?” “Nothing.” I shoved past him. While seeing the road through the trees, I saw the headlights for Braden’s car at the same time. When we cleared the trees and headed up the ditch, all of us panned out and walked in one line for the car. When we got there, Bri opened her door and leaned against the car. Her hair was whipping behind her face and one hand was resting on her hip. She tugged her shirt and then adjusted it back, but it didn’t stick. It fell down, showing her black bra. Bri was clueless, scowling at us. She was the picture of fierce and alluring at the same time. We were greeted with, “What were you guys doing there?” She took in the whole line of guys before letting her eyes find mine, making me feel seared. It was the same effect every time. My insides felt yanked out, but I still wanted to touch her. I looked away instead. “We came to see you.” Braden motioned to the guys. “Are you insane? How was tonight supposed to go down any other way? You guys are celebrities. You can’t be coming to house parties anymore.” There was a clipped bark to her voice, but it faded on the last word, and I glanced over. She sneaked a look at me. “Yeah, we didn’t think ahead.” Braden threw a hand to the football guys. “Got some extra room?” She shook her head. “There is no way this little car can fit all of you hulks.” The guys laughed and one mentioned, “We can wait here. A bunch of our buddies are coming. They can pick us up.” I should’ve thanked them for saving us from the chaos, and I heard Gunn and Braden doing exactly that, but I looked back at her. Her hand was still on her hip, but her shoulders were slumped forward. She was kicking at some gravel on the road. The football guys headed farther down the road as Gunn and Braden got into the car. We were alone now, but there was still an audience. She wouldn’t look at me anymore. I wanted to turn those dark eyes to me. I wanted to say something, but I had no idea what. I ended with, “You’re still really good.” Her head lifted, and I saw it. There was so much there. Fear, caution, excitement, warmth, and another expression I couldn’t place. No, I did. She was still haunted. “Thank.” She was mine. No. She wasn’t. She had gone to him that night. Ah, fucking hell. “We should probably talk.” Her eyes opened at my tone, which was rough, and panic flared across her face for a moment. “Oh. Okay.”
Author Information
I didn’t begin writing until after undergraduate college. There’d been storylines and characters in my head all my life, but it came to a boiling point one day and I HAD to get them out of me. So the computer was booted up and I FINALLY felt it click. Writing is what I needed to do. After that, I had to teach myself how to write. I can’t blame my teachers for not teaching me all those years in school. It was my fault. I was one of the students that was wishing I was anywhere but at school! So after that day, it took me lots of work until I was able to put together something that resembled a novel. I’m hoping I got it right since someone must be reading this profile! And I hope you keep enjoying my future stories.
The first book in Nina Levine’s NEW rockstar series!
When heartbreaker meets ball breaker, sparks will fly.
Rockstar, Jett Vaughn, isn’t against settling down, but no woman has ever held his attention long enough for a relationship to develop. That is until he meets Presley Hart. She’s confident, opinionated and headstrong. She drives him to the edge of crazy, but he can’t deny how she makes him feel.
He wants her heart, but she only wants his body.
Presley’s not against giving her heart to a man, but she has too many reasons why he’s not the one to give it to. Jett isn’t a man who will take no for an answer though. He’s about to declare war on her reasons and take what he wants.
EXCERPT He slowly moves his face away from mine and drinks some of his drink. As he places the glass back on the bar, he says, “I’m Jett.”
“Presley.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Your parents are Elvis fans?”
“My mother is and my father is blinded by love. She could have called me Elvis and he wouldn’t have blinked.”
This inspires a laugh out of him. “Your parents are still happily married?”
“Yeah, go figure. How many marriages do you know of that are still going strong after thirty years?”
His eyes twinkle. “My parents are still happy after thirty-five years. I guess you and I are like some weird science experiment. It kinda sucks, really.”
Frowning, I ask, “Why?”
He throws the rest of his drink back, his eyes still twinkling. “When you don’t come from a fucked-up family, you can hardly blame your issues on your parents, can you? Nope, you and me, we have to own our fucking issues.”
I burst out laughing. “You are so right. Shit, pass me my drink, I can’t cope with this knowledge.”
Shaking his head, he holds my drink away from me. “Bad idea, sweetheart. You have no one to blame your alcoholism on except yourself. I suggest you give up alcohol straight away and find a new vice that’s not as socially unacceptable as alcohol addiction.”
Oh, this is fun. I raise my eyebrows. “What do you suggest?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Sex addiction. Take that shit up. Much easier to hide from public view. And a lot more fucking fun than dealing with hangovers.”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about taking that up. You think you could help me with that?”
He pulls a face like it’s the hardest question he’s ever been asked. Nodding, he says, “Sure. You want to get started now?”
My core clenches at the thought, and I lean into him and say, “You’ve no idea how much I want to get started on that now, Jett.”
He sucks in a breath, and his hand curls around my neck. “You sure? Because once I’m finished with you, you’re going to have an addiction that will be hard to kick.”
USA Today Bestselling Author Nina Levine, is an Aussie author who writes stories about hot, alpha men and the tough, independent women they love.
When she isn’t creating with words, she loves to create with paint and paper. Often though, she can be found curled up with a good book and some chocolate.
Book Title: Unscheduled Departure Author: T.M. Franklin Genre: Paranormal Suspense/Romance (Short) Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Rowan Elliott is devastated when her boyfriend, Finn, tells her he’s moving across the country to take over the family business, and thrilled when he changes his mind at the last minute and gets off the plane.
But then things get . . . weird. Finn’s acting strange, and Ro’s getting mysterious phone calls that have her questioning if her boyfriend’s really who she thinks he is. As Ro races to figure out what’s going on, she discovers it’s more complicated than she could have ever imagined.
And if she’s not careful, she could lose her Finn forever.
“I’m not sure exactly what it is,” I said, finally. “There’s just been all this strange stuff happening today. I mean, maybe it’s nothing and I’m just imagining things.” I glanced at Lindsay and she nodded in encouragement.
“Okay,” I said. “It started this morning, after we got back from the airport.” I told her about the phone calls, showed her the Private Number in my call history.
She examined the phone then handed back. “And you’re sure it was Finn.”
“I know his voice, Linds. It was him.”
Lindsay frowned. “But why? Why would he call you from some blocked number and then say he didn’t?”
I collapsed in on myself, clutching my arms across my roiling stomach. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. I know it sounds crazy—”
“You are not crazy,” she said firmly. And that pretty much summed up our friendship. No matter what, Lindsay had my back.
“There’s more,” I said slowly. “Finn seems . . . weird. Off, somehow. Different. I can’t explain it. I keep thinking I’m imagining things – it’s Finn, you know?”
Lindsay nodded, although I was sure she had no idea.
“But then, a couple of times today . . . ” I considered my words carefully. “He’d do something or say something and it just seemed like he was . . . different. It was like he wasn’t . . . ” I swallowed. “Finn.”
Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Okay, that’s just creepy.”
“I know—”
“Like some Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Exorcist kind of stuff.” She shuddered.
“I know!” I stood up and crossed to the window, turned and paced back. “I know how it sounds, and I can’t explain it. But I know Finn, and something is wrong, Linds. I don’t know what it is, but something’s wrong.”
T.M. Franklin started out her career writing nonfiction in a television newsroom. Graduating with a B.A. in Communications specializing in broadcast journalism and production, she worked for nine years as a major market television news producer, and garnered two regional Emmy Awards, before she resigned to be a full-time mom and part-time freelance writer. Her first published novel, MORE, was born out of a challenge to write a novel in thirty days issued during National Novel Writing month. MORE was well received, selected as a finalist in the 2013 Kindle Book Review Best Indie Book Awards, and won the Suspense/Thriller division of the Blogger Book Fair Reader’s Choice Awards.
In addition to MORE and its sequels, The Guardians and TWELVE, Franklin has penned the Amazon best-selling short stories, Window and A Piece of Cake. Her YA romance, How to Get Ainsley Bishop to Fall in Love with You, is Franklin’s first love story without traditionally recognized paranormal or fantasy elements. Although . . . T. M. is the first to argue that love is the best kind of magic.
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