Freya Barker loves writing about ordinary people with extraordinary stories. Driven to make her books about ‘real’ people; with characters who are perhaps less than perfect, but just as deserving of romance, thrills and chills, and their own slice of happy. A recipient of the RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for best first book, “Slim To None”, and Finalist for the Kindle Book Award with “From Dust”, Freya has not slowed down. She continues to add to her rapidly growing collection of published novels as she spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
Making dreams come true is a red-hot challenge for two stubborn hearts risking it all on a second chance…
Hot-wired and restless, financial wizard Elliott Remington doesn’t turn down a dare. This time it’s to coordinate a service-dog boot camp for veterans at his family’s resort. Success means a one-way ticket to the West Coast to pursue his dream career. But it comes with a hitch: teaming up with his ex, who vanished on him ten years ago with nothing more than a kiss-off note. As fiery as her hair and as stubborn as her name, Rebel Tate did what she had to do—for Elliott’s sake and her own. A dog whisperer with a keen sense of survival, she’s lived a tough life. Here she is, back in Angel Fire Falls, doing what she loves, next to a man she’s never forgotten. While the flame between them still smolders, neither is ready to get burned. For Elliott, trusting Rebel is a gamble. For Rebel, sharing the secrets that sent her running is a risk. Now, while finishing a job that could define both their futures, two hearts are about to collide—and a second chance at true romance could be the greatest dare of all.
About the Author
Shelly Alexander’s first published novel was a 2014 Golden Heart® finalist.
She is an Amazon #1 bestselling author in numerous categories, including contemporary romance, contemporary women’s fiction, and romantic comedy. Shelly grew up traveling the world, earned a bachelor’s degree in marketing, and worked in business for twenty-five years. With four older brothers and three sons of her own, she decided to escape her male-dominated world by reading romance novels…and has been hooked ever since. Now, Shelly spends her days writing novels that are sometimes sweet, sometimes sizzling, and always sassy. She lives in the beautiful Southwest with her husband and toy poodle named Mozart. Visit her at www.shellyalexander.net
Raven Bloomberg finds herself stuck in Florence, Italy during a holiday weekend. One meant for lovers, not lonely art gallery assistants sharing the last hotel room with a dark and mysterious stranger.
She decides to loosen up and enjoy what the city has to offer. The only problem is; she may be enjoying herself a little too much.
Pierce Ashton’s eyes are set on Raven Bloomberg, the sexy yet reserved blonde that pushes him to limits he never expected.
Will their thirst be enough to continue the love affair once back in the states?
Will these two souls go back to living life as they did before, or embrace the passion ignited in the opulent streets of Florence.
Find out now in author A.M. Willard’s contemporary romance novella, Hearts in Florence, which is best enjoyed with an Italian Merlot.
A.M. Willard is a true believer of soul mates, and happy ever afters. She enjoys reading, sailing, and of course writing contemporary romance with some saucy scenes. Releasing her first novella of the One Night Series on April 12, 2014 has sent her on a new journey in life.
A.M.’s passion for writing started at a young age, but with the love and support from her husband of eighteen years pushed her to follow her dreams. Once she hit that first publish button, she hasn’t looked back.
Publications available from A.M. Willard include the Chances Series, Love on the Screen, and everyone’s favorite, the One Night Series. She’s also had an article published in the Writer’s Monthly Review Magazine and was just accepted into the Romance Writers of America organization in May of 2015.
A.M. Willard was born and raised in the Panhandle of Florida, but resides in Savannah GA with her husband, son, two cats, one rotten dog, two goats and her six chickens. Yes, we said chickens…
“Come, I want to show you my favorite section here,” he says while dragging me behind him. Now it’s as if he’s a kid in the candy store. Laughter escapes from me while I’m being pulled. I glimpse back and forth between everything as it’s covered in greenery and wonder what it would’ve been like back in the day. As we slow, I notice the Ragnaie up ahead, and I pray that he’s going to say this is his favorite spot. I really want to walk underneath it.
“You coming?” he asks, tilting his head in that direction. I offer the biggest goofy smile ever and follow along. I take in the green trees that cascade over the gravel path making a canopy above our heads. The sunlight peers through open sections of the trees above, creating a spotlight effect down toward the road as we walk along. Pierce takes my hand into his and squeezes it a little more than he has before. I close my eyes and glide through as I imagine being here with my fiancé or lover in the future. We could come here for him to kneel down and propose to me, or to celebrate our first year of being wed.
I stop and breathe in the air around us. I want to memorize this moment for as long as I can. I want to remember exactly what it smells like, the sounds of the birds chirping, and the slight creaking of the branches. I picture that it’s the sound of the branches intertwining more into each other, forming a tighter bond than before. The hopeless romantic in me wonders if that’s the sound that two lovers’ hearts make. When two people who love each other unconditionally grow old together, do their branches mend together to make a canopy of their souls?
Dani Broussard never imagined that her life would turn out like this. She always thought that her grandfather would be there for her into adulthood and that her high school sweetheart, Jared, would be the man she would marry. That isn’t what happened though. Instead, her grandfather got sick and passed away before Dani saw the age of nineteen. It was just her and Jared until he hooked up with a local MC, The Suicide Kings… Then it was just her. Pig-Pen claimed her body, rules her life, but he would never hold her heart. Kept because of her looks and a particular set of skills unique only to her, Dani has been with The Suicide Kings for the last three years… three long damaging years. She hates it, all of it, the pain the humiliation, the fear… and as strong as Dani is, as clever as she can be, she is quickly finding that death may be the kinder, gentler option rather than live through any more of this hell.
He’s Dangerous…
Red-XIII is, and always will be, a Sacred Hearts man. But for now, he’s a Suicide Kings prospect. Tasked with providing intelligence on the King’s inner workings to his real club, Thirteen has been slowly, quietly and carefully dismantling the King’s operation from the inside out. The situation is dangerous, good thing Thirteen is a dangerous guy but even he can’t be everywhere at once and a couple of missteps have cost the Sacred Hearts dearly. Doubly determined to finish this with no more wreckage or damage to the SHMC, Thirteen is blindsided by his heart when he lays eyes on Dani. A pretty, little thing with long black hair and striking blue eyes. She slays him with one look from her damaged soul and now Thirteen has tasked himself with two missions… Take down The Suicide Kings and get both Dani and himself out alive.
For now those missions run parallel to each other but what happens if they ever end up at odds? The bigger question is, how can he get close to the VP’s Ol’ Lady as a Prospect and not get them both burned?
“How the hell you get that?” he demanded.
“Came through on my personal cell, someone mass-texted it. I have so many goddamned contacts, I didn’t realize I still had anybody from the club in it. No worries, my cover is secure. No one saw shit. I don’t leave things like that lyin’ around.”
D grunted into the phone, “Cops‘re still sittin’ on us. They still watching you?” he asked.
“If by ‘you’, you mean The Suicide Kings, then yeah. Unmarked tan cargo van when we pulled in from the run. It’s a good thing Gordy’s a paranoid fucker and sweeps for listening devices on the regular. Pretty sure they only got visual. They’ll get tired soon enough and fuck off onto something bigger and better.”
“Yeah. With our history, they ain’t investigatin’ or cryin’ too hard about our plight.” Dragon sounded both tired and downright pissed off at that. I didn’t blame him. Chandra deserved a lot better. Reave, too! Don’t get me wrong. But as a brother, you expect this shit to happen. No women and no children had been the SHMC motto from the beginning, even before our reformed ways. We did some gnarly and seriously rancid shit back in the day. Guns, drugs, gambling – you name it. But we always left the women and children out of it.
No prostituting, no hitting. Rape was liable to get your dick chopped off – which is why, no matter how fucking hard, no matter how often the Suicide Kings tried to get me to join in on one of their trains, it was no fucking dice. Because very rarely, if ever, were the chicks they were fucking at all clear-headed or into it.
It bothered me, a whole fuck of a lot, the way these animals treated their women and I found myself spilling it all. I told D everything I’d seen going on, everything I could garner about their operation, in effect, unburdening my soul from all the awful shit I’d been a party to in the name of the greater good. In the name of spying out our enemy. He was quiet for a long time on the other end and finally let out a sigh that made him sound like he felt every single year and every single mile. It’d been weeks since I last talked to him beyond a short text. The deeper I got in with these fuckers, the more I was around them, the less opportunity there was for full on communication.
“Do you need out?” he asked.
My thoughts drifted to Raccoon, to her sharp and calculating stare as she’d passed me my face mask.
“No man, I’m good. My work ain’t over yet. Not by a long, flat, mile. It’ll be done when every one of these fuckers is in the ground and the Suicide Kings ain’t nothin’ but the dust of fuckin’ memory.”
A.J. Downey is a born and raised Seattle, WA Native. She finds inspiration from her surroundings, through the people she meets and likely as a byproduct of way too much caffeine.
She has lived many places and done many things though mostly through her own imagination… An avid reader all of her life it’s now her turn to try and give back a little, entertaining as she has been entertained. She lives in a small house in a small neighborhood with a larger than life fiancé and one cat.
The man I want to consume me, own me,break me and corrupt me.
Yet I’ve never seen his face.
His body ripples like an Adonis, sculpted in steel and dripping in sin.
His flesh is inked with the mark of the chimera – one body, two very different halves.
He plays hard.
He plays rough.
He has no limits.
He’s so fucking dirty bad wrong.
But I love him for it.
***
Lydia Marsh is always the strong one. The girl who never breaks, and sure as hell never cries. She’s got it all – the perfect little life in cosy suburbia, with her perfectly nice boyfriend, and their perfectly sufficient sex life. She’s even got her perfect little career plan all wrapped up at Trial Run Software Group.
But when it all falls apart, and Lydia’s pretty, green eyes are fixed on a brutally sexual stranger – the man they call Masque – she comes to suspect that being strong isn’t all it’s cracked up to be
For now Lydia wants something she’s never wanted before…
And she wants Masque to give it to her.
**Warning – this novel contains graphic sex, and hardcore elements of BDSM. There are scenes of violence (consensual) as well as sexual practices some readers may find offensive. If you aren’t turned on by dirty bad wrong sex then please walk on by. Thank you.***
The chains above rattle as I jerk in my bonds. My legs quiver, knees trembling, adrenaline pumping.
He circles me. I feel his footfalls. Heavy, purposeful. I can smell him, too. He smells of sex, and sweat, and musk. He smells of sin.
He smells so damn dirty bad wrong.
The tap, tap, tap of the cane against my thighs, so gently. I take a breath. The cane comes to rest, pressing against my skin, and he’s at my side, his lips at my ear.
“Steady,” he breathes and his warm breath sends tingles down my neck.
He trails a hand up my ribs, and my body flinches. Fight or flight.
In my chains I can do neither. And I don’t want to.
The glowing heat between my legs gives testament to one simple truth.
I want him… the release he delivers through pain… the silky caress of the abyss beyond fear.
I want him to break me.
I want him to hurt me.
I want him to own me.
And then I want him to love me.
“Tell me what you need, Lydia.”
I gasp. His savage hand is on my breast. Gripping, twisting, hurting. My nipples come alive, begging for punishment, and I roll into his touch. It feels so fucking good.
I hear my own ragged breathing, the incoherent murmurs coming from my mouth.
He kicks my feet further apart, spreading me wide. I struggle to keep my balance, but the cuffs pull tight against the chains, taking my weight. Another tap of the cane on my stomach, harder this time, and then his fingers, teasing me open, grazing my clit. Fuck.
Two fingers hook inside, pushing in deep. I hear how wet I sound. He groans his approval.
My words catch in my throat, but I force them out.
“Pain… I want pain…”
I gasp again as his two fingers lift me onto my toes.
“I did not ask you what you wanted, I asked you what you needed.”
“Pain … please, I need pain …”
He kisses my neck, and I’m lost in him, swimming in his darkness.
“I’m going to hurt you now, Lydia Marsh. I’m going to mark you, and break you, and own you… and then I’m going to make you cum so hard you’ll scream my name. Will I tell you what I need? I need to see you cry, Lydia. You’re so fucking beautiful when you cry.”
I screw my eyes shut under the blindfold and take a deep breath.
I’m ready.
AUTHOR BIO
Jade West is a contemporary erotic author from Warwick in the UK, due to release her debut BDSM novel, Dirty Bad Wrong, in February 2015. Jade is a real life submissive, and former sex chat-line operator, who is plenty used to getting people all steamed up with her dirty mouth. She has a healthy interest in pornography, men in suits and taking 100 strokes with a cane ‘Mood Pictures’ style.
