It all started with the invitation. To my ex-fiance’s new wedding.
I should have ignored it.Thrown it away. Set it afire. But I didn’t. I replied.
With a plus one.
And then my assistant accidentally mailed it.
Enter Hayes Whitley. Mega-movie star. The man who has captured the hearts of millions. But I gave him mine years ago. He was my first love. He was my everything. Right until he up and left to chase his dreams without so much as a simple goodbye.
When he showed up out of the blue ten years later, I should have known to steer clear. I should have rejected his offer to take me to my ex’s wedding. I should have never let him kiss me.
But I didn’t.
And now we’re left wondering if the pieces of the life we once shared still fit together somehow. First loves are hard to forget. The question is, do we want to forget? Or do we risk the chance and see what happens next?
About the Author:
New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.
She’s a mixture of most of her female characters: sassy, intelligent, stubborn, reserved, outgoing, driven, emotional, strong, and wears her heart on her sleeve. All of which she displays daily with her husband and three children where they live in Southern California.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Since then she has written The Driven Series (Driven, Fueled, Crashed, Raced, Aced), the standalone Driven Novels (Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, Hard Beat, and Down Shift (Releasing 10/4/16)), and a short story titled UnRaveled. She is currently finishing up Sweet Cheeks a standalone novel out at the end of 2016.
Her plans for 2017 include a sports romance duet (The Player (#1) and The Catch (#2)) and the Everyday Heroes series (Cuffed (#1), Combust (#2), and Cockpit (#3). She’s also writing a novella for the 1,001 Dark Night series that will be out in February 2017. She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media.
He chuckles and all of a sudden my back straightens. “That’s their schedule, Ships. Ours is a secret.” He abruptly stands and grabs my hand to pull me up. My body jolts at the connection that sitting side by side with him all this time has had buzzing just beneath the surface. As if knowing he was close enough to touch but not really touching was an awareness all in itself. I know he can feel it too. That I’m not alone. Because the words on his lips falter momentarily before he recovers. And a part of me wants to stay like this a bit longer but know it’s just that missed connection we lost so long ago that’s causing the sensations to simmer to the surface. Nostalgia. Muscle memory of the heart. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“Yes. Go. It’ll be easier if you think of this whole trip as an adventure rather than their wedding.”
“And what? You’re my tour guide?”
“If that’s what you want to call me. I prefer cruise director though, considering we’re kind of stuck with the nautical theme, Ships.” He winks and holds his hand out.
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes.
“Or captain.”
“You’re certifiable, you know that?” I shake my head and he pulls on my hand to help me stand.
“Quite possibly, but all that matters is I’m in charge of this schedule, and we need to get a move on it. Your adventure awaits.”
“And, oh captain, my captain, that adventure is what?” I drag my feet like a child, curious what he’s talking about but smiling nonetheless.
“Do you actually think I’m going to tell you?” He dazzles me with that smile I can’t resist. “Didn’t you know? Spontaneity is the best kind of adventure.”
Oh. Shit.
Sweet Cheeks by K. Bromberg is LIVE on November 14th! An all new second chance love story by the New York Times Bestselling author of the Driven series.
It all started with the invitation. To my ex-fiance’s new wedding.
I should have ignored it.Thrown it away. Set it afire. But I didn’t. I replied.
With a plus one.
And then my assistant accidentally mailed it.
Enter Hayes Whitley. Mega-movie star. The man who has captured the hearts of millions. But I gave him mine years ago. He was my first love. He was my everything. Right until he up and left to chase his dreams without so much as a simple goodbye.
When he showed up out of the blue ten years later, I should have known to steer clear. I should have rejected his offer to take me to my ex’s wedding. I should have never let him kiss me.
But I didn’t.
And now we’re left wondering if the pieces of the life we once shared still fit together somehow. First loves are hard to forget. The question is, do we want to forget? Or do we risk the chance and see what happens next?
About the Author:
New York Times Bestselling author K. Brombergwrites contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love. She’s a mixture of most of her female characters: sassy, intelligent, stubborn, reserved, outgoing, driven, emotional, strong, and wears her heart on her sleeve. All of which she displays daily with her husband and three children where they live in Southern California. On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Since then she has written The Driven Series (Driven, Fueled, Crashed, Raced, Aced), the standalone Driven Novels (Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, Hard Beat, and Down Shift (Releasing 10/4/16)), and a short story titled UnRaveled. She is currently finishing up Sweet Cheeks a standalone novel out at the end of 2016. Her plans for 2017 include a sports romance duet (The Player (#1) and The Catch (#2)) and the Everyday Heroes series (Cuffed (#1), Combust (#2), and Cockpit (#3). She’s also writing a novella for the 1,001 Dark Night series that will be out in February 2017. She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media.
Carina Painter lives a life she created in between the pages of her bestselling novel. At least, that’s what she outwardly portrays. A heart-rending childhood followed by an abusive engagement leaves her broken in all ways possible. A chance encounter provides the fork in the road she so desperately desires.
Navy SEAL Smith Eppington is fighting the war of his lifetime. One that isn’t fought with weapons and highly sought intelligence. It’s a battle to remember his past. The accident that scarred seventy five percent of his body, and stole the life of his best friend also seized parts and pieces of his memory. When an author asks to interview him for a fiction novel, he’s ready to pour his heart out no matter the cost.
The friendship that blossoms between Smith and Carina is something extraordinary. It’s a living, breathing love story about finding yourself, change that is out of your control, grasping what you can, and letting go of everything else.
In a twist of kismet, remembering could destroy everything, but fiction may be what saves the day. A friendship built on new truths and a relationship torn apart by old lies collide in a poignant novel by International Bestselling Author, Rachel Robinson.
Excerpt
Shrugging, he pulls me into his warm, shirtless body and yanks the quilt back up to our necks, his hands now wandering over my body. “Sleep is the very last thing on my mind right now.” His gaze burns into mine and his hands find the hem of my nightshirt. His lips twitch. “You wear so little to bed. I can’t help myself,” he says. With a featherlight touch his fingertips stroke the side of my thigh up to the string of my panties. He hooks a finger in and drags his finger underneath it, teasing himself. Teasing me, too. “It took all of my self-control to go to sleep with this much of your bare skin in touching proximity.”
I blush. Big time. Everything below my waist cries out for attention in one wild rush of excitement. It’s been too long. But it’s more than that now because everything before this has been lukewarm. “What did you do at work last night?” I ask before all important thoughts flee my mind in favor of his touch—something that scrambles my brain cells. “Why did it take so long?”
His face changes. His hand stops on my hipbone and he grabs it, his fingers encompassing the whole side of my body. Breathing in and out makes his hand move with me. It’s warm. It’s demanding. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Smith replies.
I shake my head. “When people say stuff like that typically there is almost always something to worry about, but you don’t want to worry the person. Do you see how counterintuitive that is? Now I’m worried because you told me not to worry.”
He sighs and then pulls the covers over his head and disappears under the blankets. In a fast maneuver that tickles and makes me pull away in mock protest, he makes his way between my legs. With the edge of the quilt in my hand I lift it to see his smiling face between my knees. “You’re trying to distract me,” I say. Pressing my lips into a firm line, I try to hold a serious face. “Smith Eppington. You better tell me what I want to know.”
Smith takes the sides of my panties and pulls them down and off my body with one fierce tug. It’s playful, but so damn hot at the same. Some noise exits my mouth and it makes him smile, his good side wider than his bad. I shake my head. “Is it working?” he asks, then kisses the inside of my right thigh. “Are you distracted?” His warm breath on my skin clenches my core. He drags his lips up and down, inching his way higher.
I adjust my legs and try to calm my breaths. “I don’t see how I can’t be distracted with my underwear on the floor and your head between my legs. I don’t forget,” I say. Tapping the side of my head, I finish, “I’m like an elephant.”
He licks the inside of my left thigh and runs his hands under my nightshirt up and down the sides of my rib cage. I shiver. Tipping my head back, I close my eyes.
“An elephant isn’t what I want to think about right now,” Smith growls. “I’d ask you how you like this, but I honestly don’t care. I’m starving for you. You’re wet. I smell you.” With his lips pressing against my skin, and the disappearance of my panties, he’s turned into a lust crazed man. A man I’ve wanted to meet since I first laid eyes on him.
About the Author
Rachel grew up in a small, quiet town full of loud talkers. Her words were always only loud on paper. She has been writing stories and creating characters for as long as she can remember. After living on the west coast for many years she recently moved to Virginia Beach, VA.
He’s staring at me with those eyes. Those scorching eyes screaming want in all sorts of languages.
“I am going to ask you this once, and if you say no, I will not ask again. But I think you and I may be on the same page here. So here it goes. Would you like to get out of here and continue this in my room?”
Wait, what was that? Sorry, I couldn’t hear the question over the sounds of Jackpot baby!
Right now, I am going to admit that I’m about to make some impromptu decisions. I only live once. And I deserve this. I deserve to get banged beyond belief by this totally hot guy. If he wants a ride, I swear to all that’s mighty I am going to give it to him. I may wake up and realize this was a huge error in my judgment, but right now I couldn’t care less. I will never see him again so who cares. My vagina has already started walking to his room, so I might as well just catch up with her.
“Yeah. Let’s get outta here.”
Life As We Know It by J.D. Hollyfield releases Fall 2016!
Life has not been easy for Penelope Summers. Specifically, the last month, when her high-profile boyfriend dumped her, her indecent exposure record surfaced, and her favorite thing in the world, tequila, failed her.
Good thing for Penelope, she has her best friend to pick her up, and take her on the vacation of a lifetime. A seven-day cruise that will change the direction of her downward spiral. But will that spiral shift in the direction Penelope needs? Or will it throw her into a bigger whirlwind of trouble?
With Reckless Abandon as her motto, tequila as her wingman, and a hot one-night stand as her much needed reward, will the tables finally turn for Penelope, or will life as she knows it continue to fail her?
Sometimes you just have to ride the wave of crazy to find out.
About the Author
Creative designer, mother, wife, writer, part time superhero…
J.D. Hollyfield is a creative designer by day and superhero by night. When she is not trying to save the world one happy ending at a time, she enjoys the snuggles of her husband, son and three doxies. With her love for romance, and head full of book boyfriends, she was inspired to test her creative abilities and bring her own story to life.
Life in a Rut, Love not Included is her Debut Novel. J.D. Hollyfield lives in the Midwest, and is currently at work on blowing the minds of readers, with the additions to the Love not Included series, along with her charm, humor and HEA’s.
Samuel Clearwater, A.K.A Preppy, likes bowties, pancakes, suspenders, good friends, good times, good drugs, and a good f*ck.
He’s worked his way out from beneath a hellish childhood and is living the life he’s always imagined for himself. When he meets a girl, a junkie on the verge of ending it all, he’s torn between his feelings for her and the crippling fear that she could be the one to end the life he loves.
Andrea ‘Dre’ Capulet is strung out and tired.
Tired of living for her next fix. Tired of doing things that make her stomach turn. Tired of looking in the mirror at the reflection of the person she’s become. Just when she decides to end it all, she meets a man who will change the course of both their lives forever.
And their deaths.
For most people, death is the end of their story.
For Preppy and Dre, death was only the beginning.
This is the fifth book in the King Series and it’s meant to be read after Soulless.
Excerpt
“No! I hate you,” she spat, as I continued to tug her beside me.
“Good, you can hate me while I fuck you,” I said. “But first things first. My lesson obviously didn’t take in that brain of yours. You want what you want and I can’t stop you,” I said, as we approached the train tracks which were elevated on a mound of gravel several feet off the ground. The warning lights flashed orange, the neon reflective barriers dropped down to cover the service road, while the bells indicating an approaching train clanged away. “And since I can’t stop you, I’m going to help you out. Bullet in the head was so three hours ago. I’ve got something even better in mind now.”
“Wait. What?” she asked, her teeth chattering. “You…you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?” I said, turning around to face her, almost losing my footing when I noticed the trail of dried tears on her cheeks. I looked away for a fraction of a second to regain my composure. “You think I wouldn’t kill someone?” I cocked an eyebrow. “You already know that I’ve been there, done that, bought the motherfucking t-shirt, doll.” Her eyes went wide and she made a move to step back. “Oh no, Doc, I read your letter and I saw what you wanted. And remember, I’m nothing if not accommodating.”
When I pulled her to climb the gravel mound her knees locked up so I bent over and picked her up by the waist, tossing her over my shoulder, carrying her onto the tracks while she beat on my back with her closed fists. When I got to the top I set her down roughly and she fell backwards onto her ass, bracing herself with her hands against the large pieces of gravel under the tracks.
The whistle of the train blew in the distance. It wouldn’t be long now. Dre made a move to stand up, but that wasn’t what I had in mind. I bent down and pushed on her chest, spreading her tiny frame across the tracks. I crawled on top of her, pinning her down with my thighs. I leaned over her, my chest to hers as we both breathed rapidly. She struggled underneath me to get up, pushing at my chest, but I wouldn’t budge. “Why the struggle, Doc? This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
She glanced up at me as the train whistled again. Her gaze flipped to her right, where the single yellow light from the train emerged from around the corner, shining brighter and brighter as it chugged closer and closer. For a moment she stopped struggling, looking back and forth from the train to me.
“So what, you’re gonna die too?” she asked, hoping to appeal to my sense of self preservation.
I shrugged. “I get bored easily, maybe the devil will make me his errand boy or something.”
“Preppy, this isn’t funny. Get up and get off the fucking tracks,” she said, her concern shifting from herself to me.
I shook my head and yawned. She wiggled underneath me, and although there was a train barreling toward us my cock once again stirred to life. Maybe I should just rip down her panties and push inside of her. Train or no train, it would be one fuck of a way to go out.
“You have to choose, Doc,” I said, making my voice as serious as I was capable. “Life?” I asked, screaming over the sound of the train screeching against the track. I pushed my hard cock against her core and she gasped. Her trembling turned into a shiver, her mouth fell open. I glanced to the side at the blinding light of the approaching train as it bathed us both in a tunnel of light. I leaned down, so close that my lips were a whisper above hers, as I shouted, “Life? Or death? What’s it gonna be, Doc?” My hair blew around my face as the light grew brighter and brighter. “Answer the fucking question!” I demanded, my hands squeezing her shoulders, my fingers digging roughly into her skin. “DO YOU WANT TO FUCKING DIE?”
With only seconds left until we became shredded under the train, Dre closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again they were glistening, fresh tears spilling from the edges.
She started to speak, her lips forming the beginning of the word, but before it could fully leave her lips I stood, pulling her up with me. I lifted Dre into my arms and took a running leap off the tracks, my legs flailing in the air as we fell the seven or so feet. Dre’s decision still on her lips, her scream surrounding the air around us as we crashed down into the field.
“I wanna liiiiiiiiiiiivvvvvveeeeee.”
About the Author:
T.M. Frazieris a USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR best known for her KING SERIES. She was born on Long Island, NY. When she was eight years old she moved with her mom, dad, and older sister to sunny Southwest Florida where she still lives today with her husband and daughter.
When she was in middle school she was in a club called AUTHORS CLUB with a group of other young girls interested in creative writing. Little did she know that years later life would come full circle.
After graduating high school, she attended Florida Gulf Coast University and had every intention of becoming a news reporter when she got sucked into real estate where she worked in sales for over ten years.
Throughout the years T.M. never gave up the dream of writing and with her husband’s encouragement, and a lot of sleepless nights, she realized her dream and released her first novel, The Dark Light of Day, in 2013.
Carina Painter lives a life she created in between the pages of her bestselling novel. At least, that’s what she outwardly portrays. A heart-rending childhood followed by an abusive engagement leaves her broken in all ways possible. A chance encounter provides the fork in the road she so desperately desires.
Navy SEAL Smith Eppington is fighting the war of his lifetime. One that isn’t fought with weapons and highly sought intelligence. It’s a battle to remember his past. The accident that scarred seventy five percent of his body, and stole the life of his best friend also seized parts and pieces of his memory. When an author asks to interview him for a fiction novel, he’s ready to pour his heart out no matter the cost.
The friendship that blossoms between Smith and Carina is something extraordinary. It’s a living, breathing love story about finding yourself, change that is out of your control, grasping what you can, and letting go of everything else.
In a twist of kismet, remembering could destroy everything, but fiction may be what saves the day. A friendship built on new truths and a relationship torn apart by old lies collide in a poignant novel by International Bestselling Author, Rachel Robinson.
About the Author
Rachel grew up in a small, quiet town full of loud talkers. Her words were always only loud on paper. She has been writing stories and creating characters for as long as she can remember. After living on the west coast for many years she recently moved to Virginia Beach, VA.
Lara Kessler showed up as if heaven sent her to me, and suddenly my priorities changed. Love is funny like that. One minute you’re living the dream, then BAM! Half my soul shows up backstage wearing a purple shirt and sexy skin-tight jeans, making me realize what I’ve been missing all along. Loving her means exposing a life I’ve tried to bury.
My heart had lost its beat.
Until I saw him.
Kaz Fabian caught my attention the moment I laid eyes on him. Love is funny like that. The famous guitarist was every woman’s fantasy—great face, chiseled jaw, cut biceps. The rock star was pure sex on and off stage, but his charm and charisma won me over. Loving him means burdening him with a life I’ve tried to leave behind.
With her future dim and his past in the spotlight, can they overcome their fate or will they just be another tragic love story?
Excerpt
The woman I’ve fantasized about is finally in my bed. The one who’s starred in my dreams and I’ve imagined when fucking others. She’s here, lying next to me and I can’t sleep.
My chest hurts while watching her. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and equally the most fascinating. She teases and jokes, flirts… and she trusts me. She trusts me with her life. That’s what brought her here tonight. I would do anything for her and she knows it.
I sit up and scrub my hands over the way-too-long scruff that covers my face. She stirs beside me, making me want to stay. I really should, but I just can’t stay here any longer…
A promise is a promise and all that. But some promises are worth breaking. This is one of them.
Meet S.L. Scott
New York Times and USA Bestselling Author, S. L. Scott, was always interested in the arts. She grew up painting, writing poetry and short stories, and willing her days away lost in a good book and the movies.
With a degree in Journalism, she continued her love of the written word by reading American authors like Salinger and Fitzgerald. She was intrigued by their flawed characters living in picture perfect worlds, but could still debate that the world those characters lived in were actually the flawed ones. This dynamic of leaving the reader invested in the words, inspired Scott to start writing with emotion while interjecting an underlying passion into her own stories.
Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She’s obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. She dreams of seeing one of her own books made into a movie one day as well as returning to Europe. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she’s a pro.
The devil sat on my shoulder from my first breath, he watched my every move, and with the first strike of lightnin’ I was pulled under.
Walking into Boondocks the voice of an angel called to me and I vowed to live a better life. She kept me on the righteous path until Satan called one last time.
It was time to take him down or lose my angel forever.
Excerpt
Walker
Watching her place her perfect lips on the side of Logan’s face made me cringe. I know I have no right to feel this way, but those two have something that I can’t quite understand, and I’m jealous. The question is, what do I do about it? As she walks toward me with a huge smile on her face, all my craziness evaporates into the evening sky.
“You ready?” she asks.
“As I’ll ever be,” I reply.
After swinging my leg over my bike, I pass Chauna a helmet, and we put them on together. As she swings her leg over, I hold still and wait for the moment she wraps her arms around me. I take a deep breath as she eases into me and rev the engine to life; all eyes are on us.
“Hold on tight,” I say, and she pulls herself even closer. We take the driveway slow, but when we hit the main road, I pull the throttle and we pick up speed as we make our way toward Sammy’s. As we approach the drive-in, I realize that Chauna is completely right; this place is nothing like it was earlier today. The Sammy’s Drive-In light is lit up like Christmas, and it reminds me of Flo’s Café in the movie Cars. There’s so much neon, and instead of cars, there are monster trucks everywhere. Pulling the bike in, we park, and I look to Chauna for direction as country music plays in the background.
“Welcome to Barber. Where the trucks are hot, but the girls are hotter,” she says with pure sexiness. In this moment, I know that this is just the beginning of an epic, new chapter in my life.
About the Author:
Casey Peeler grew up in North Carolina and still lives there with her husband and daughter.
Growing up Casey wasn’t an avid reader or writer, but after reading Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neal Hurston during her senior year of high school, and multiple Nicholas Sparks’ novels, she found a hidden love and appreciation for reading. That love ignited the passion for writing several years later, and her writing style combines real life scenarios with morals and values teenagers need in their daily lives.
When Casey isn’t writing, you can find her near a body of water listening to country music with a cold beverage and a great book.
Ophelia Lang needs money, and she needs it bad. Her parent’s restaurant is going under, and ever since she lost her job teaching third grade elementary, scraping enough cash together to pay the bills has proven almost impossible. Her parents are on the brink of losing their home. The vultures are circling overhead. So when Ophelia is offered an interview for a well-paid private tutoring gig in New York, how can she possibly say no?
Ronan Fletcher is far from the overweight, balding businessman Ophelia expected him to be. He’s young, handsome, and wealthy beyond all reason. He’s also perhaps the coldest, rudest person she’s ever met, and has a mean streak in him a mile and a half wide. A hundred grand is a lot of money, however, and if tolerating his frosty temperament, his erratic mood swings and whatever else he throws at her means she’ll get paid, then that is what Ophelia will do.
Her new boss is keeping secrets, though. Awful, terrible secrets.
The ghosts of Ronan Fletcher’s past are about to turn Ophelia’s future upside down, and she can’t even see it coming.
Note: Between Here and The Horizon is a brand new standalone contemporary romance novel from USA Today bestselling author, Callie Hart. Between Here and the Horizon does contain some scenes of violence and sexual content, and so is directed at audience 18+.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
AFGHANISTAN
2009
“Get back, Fletcher! Get back! The tank’s gonna blow!”
I was running. Behind me, seven miles of desert stretched out toward Kabul city, glowing in places where burned out military trucks were being devoured by fire. Twisted metal rained down from the sky, on fire and sharper than a razor’s edge, impacting in the dirt. Thud. Thud, thud.Thud. Shrapnel whistled through the air, striking the ground a few feet away from me as I weaved my way through the wreckage. Smoke was biting at my lungs, acrid and burning, making it hard to breath.
“Fletcher! What the fuck, man!”
Behind me, Specialist Crowe was losing his mind. Alternating between shouting into his radio and shouting at me, he couldn’t seem to decide which course of action to take. I’d ordered him to follow, but I could understand why he hadn’t. The situation was more than unsafe; charging headlong into the fire and destruction was a suicide mission, and I knew it. I also knew that my men were trapped inside the upturned vehicle still a hundred feet ahead of me, however, and I knew the truck was going to blow any second. They were going to burn to death if I didn’t help them. I wasn’t going to abandon them to that fate.
“Captain! God, man, stop!”
My heart was surging, my veins overflowing with adrenalin. My boots hit the dirt, left, right, left, right, left, right, my fists pumping back and forth as I sprinted toward the truck that was laying on its roof up ahead. Through the fractured windshield, I could see Hellaman and Wicks still strapped into the front seats of the vehicle, upside down and unmoving. They were either unconscious or dead. Hopefully they were just out for the count, but there was a lot of blood splattered on the inside of the glass. A lot of blood.
Black smoke curled upward from the underside of the truck, and I could already hear the hissing sound of fuel burning and sizzling somewhere. Groaning. I could hear groaning, too.
I reached the truck just as something inside the engine caught fire, and Hellaman came to. His eyes were wide with pain and fear as I dropped down onto my belly next to the driver’s side window, which was smashed out, small cubes of safety glass scattered into the dirt.
“Captain? Captain Fletcher. Shit, I can’t breathe. I can’t…breathe.” His face was deathly pale, and his hands shook violently as he tried to claw at the seatbelt that was digging into his chest.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Private. We’re gonna get you out of there, okay? Just hold on a moment.” My bowie knife was in my hand. I took it and made quick work of slashing through the webbing holding Hellaman in place. There was nothing I could do to cushion his fall. Slamming into the roof of the truck, Hellaman groaned weakly, and then passed out again, either from pain or from the shock, I didn’t know. I stowed my blade and grabbed him by the shoulders, then wrestled him free through the window. His face was cut; his arms were striped with blood and running rivers of crimson out onto the ground. No time to be gentle, though. No time to be safe. I hooked my hands under his arms and I quickly jogged backwards, dragging him away from the wreckage. Twenty feet was enough.
I ran back to the truck. Flames were visibly licking at the underside of the vehicle now, snaking upward toward the night sky. Wick was still out cold. I ran around to the back of the truck and tried to force the loading doors open, but they were jammed closed, bent and warped, refusing to budge.
“Shit.”
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
There was someone alive inside. Running out of time. Almost no time left. I positioned myself by the truck’s rear right window, thanking god the thing was already splintered. The bulletproof windows on military trucks were no joke. You could take a semi automatic to them and it would take longer than I had to smash them. The impact of rolling three times had obviously been enough to compromise the glass, though.
“Shield your faces,” I hollered. “Glass, glass, glass!” Bracing, I spun around and smashed the sole of my boot against the window as hard as I possibly could. The glass groaned, fracturing some more, but it didn’t shatter. I kicked again, and again, and again. Finally, the window exploded in a shower of bright shards, giving in under the force of my boot.
“Captain, there’s fuel in here,” someone inside yelled. “Get back!”
I ducked down and lay flat on my stomach again, crawling in through the now empty window frame. Inside the truck, gasoline hung heavy in the air, burning my nostrils and my eyes. Next to me, Roberts was dead, his head twisted at an odd angle, eyes staring, unseeing into the abyss.
On the other side of the truck Private Coleridge, Sam, a nineteen-year-old kid from Houston, was lying on his back on the roof, holding his rifle in both hands, his body convulsing wildly. His eyes swivelled to look at me, but his head remained locked in position, his teeth grinding together.
“What…what happened, Capt’n?” he asked. “We were drivin’ along, and then…everything was…spinning.”
“IED,” I told him. “Desert’s full of them. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
“I can’t…move. I can’t feel…anything.”
He wasn’t paralyzed. If he were, he wouldn’t be shaking the way he was right now. He was just in shock. A sharp slap to the face would probably go a long way to getting him moving, but there simply wasn’t time for that kind of motivation. Grabbing him by the webbing stitched onto the strap of his pack, which was still on his back, I hauled him to me and then backed out through the window as quickly as I could. The fire was raging now. I dragged Sam back to where I’d left Hellaman and was about to run back to the truck when a loud metallic crack split the air apart, and then a ball of fire rocked the truck, a wall of heat and pressure slamming into my body, sending me reeling back into the dirt.
“Oscar!” Sam yelled. “Oscar’s still alive in there!”
“Fuck.” I was up on my feet and running. The heat was intense—so intense that I had to shield my face as I grew closer to the wreck. The fire had consumed the underside of the truck, the tires blazing, the gas roaring as the fuel line was engulfed. And I could hear screaming. The kind of blood curdling, awful screaming of a man being burned alive.
My radio headset crackled with static, and then Colonel Whitlock’s voice barked out through the speaker. “Fletcher, do not go back inside that vehicle. Do you hear me? Do not go back inside that vehicle.”
Disobeying a direct order from a colonel was an offence worthy of court marshal. I ripped my headset from my ears and threw it to the ground, ignoring it. Ignoring the consequences. Another blood curdling scream reached me, and that was it. I was on my stomach, crawling into the mouth of hell.
My side pressed up against the frame of the window, and pain tore at me, sinking its teeth into my skin. Heat. The heat was overwhelming, so fierce and violent that there was no oxygen inside the truck. Only smoke and confusion. Only death.
“Oscar!” I called out, reaching with both hands, trying to find him. “Where are you, man?” The truck was only a six-guy transport, but the billowing, rolling clouds of black smoke hid everything. I went by touch until I heard him cry out again, weaker this time, voice riddled with agony. He was at the very rear of the truck. A few seconds was all I had. Any longer and I would either suffocate or burn up myself. My head was pounding, my lungs begging for clean air, and I could feel myself start to drift.
The journey to the back of the truck took an eternity. One hand over the other, I pulled myself around an upturned transport box, and jammed my body in between the narrow gap at the right hand side of the vehicle, reaching out, groping, searching, until I found what I was looking for. A leg. A foot, to be precise. I grabbed hold of it and pulled. An agonised yell filled the truck.
“Ahh, my leg. My leg. It’s fucked!”
“I know. I’m sorry, man. I can’t get you any other way.” I gritted my teeth, and I pulled. In any other situation it would have been a crime that I was handling an injured man this way. The clock was running down, though, and if causing more pain, causing even more damage meant the difference between one of my guys being injured or being dead, then I was going to do what I had to do.
I somehow managed to maneuverer myself so that I was over Oscar—I couldn’t even see his face, the smoke was so thick—and then I started shoving. Six hard pushes and I managed to drive him through the gap in the window frame, out onto the desert floor. His body was ripped away, pulled free by someone else, and then he was gone. I was almost too tired to heave myself free, but I scrounged up my last scrap of energy and I crawled forward, determined to make it out before the entire vehicle was enveloped. Halfway out, my fingers clawing in the dirt, my body lit up with pain. Indescribable. Unbearable. A pain so sharp and breathtaking that I couldn’t even cry out. It felt like something was ripping my body in two. I spun around and looked up to see a burning line of fuel pouring down on me, hitting my side, burning into me. I was on fire.
I kicked and jerked myself out of the truck, ripping at my jacket. Tearing at the material, trying to get it off. The fabric seemed to come away in my hands, and then I was shirtless in the cold, cold desert, rolling on the ground, trying to put the flames out.
The world went black. Someone threw something over me, and then hands were beating at my body, slapping and trying to roll me. A strangled gasp worked its way out of my mouth, but that’s all I could manage. The flames were out. The thick, heavy material that had been thrown over me was pulled back, and Crowe stood over me, face covered in soot and grease, eyes the size of dollar coins. I could barely see him properly. Barely hear the words coming out of his mouth.
Colonel Whitlock appeared next to him, and then the sky was filled with the beating thump of helicopter blades. They spoke for a second, and the thundering drum of the helo overhead dipped long enough for me to make out what Crowe said to Whitlock.
“He didn’t stop, sir. He didn’t stop until they were all out.”
Whitlock scowled. “I can see that, Specialist. He disobeyed a direct order in doing so, too.”
“He’ll be reprimanded?” Crowe asked. He was speaking as if I was no longer present; both of them were.
“No,” Whitlock said sternly. “Ironically, I think Captain Fletcher’s more likely to be honored than punished in this particular instance. Now get him on the chopper before I change my mind. The crazy bastard’s bleeding everywhere.”
Calliehas experienced many changes throughout her life, and gone through many ups and downs that have all worked towards shaping and moulding 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.
Callie Hart is the author of the Blood & Roses Series. Zeth & Sloane’s story is now complete, but there are a number of stories still to be released under the Blood & Roses banner. 2015 will see Cade, Michael and Rebel’s stories being released, as well as a number of brand new stories, all of which will be Dark Romance novels.
If you would like to contact Callie, you can do so here.
If you would like to sign up to Callie’s newsletter for info on upcoming releases, exclusive teasers, excerpts and competitions, you can do so here.
Book Loving Pixies 