Sep 18, 2018 | Guest Spot
The good news, lovelies, is I am writing again. There is a delightfully sinful story I am writing that is going to offend so many people HAAAA! I am *not* sorry for how fucked up this story is. Hopefully things finally settle down and I can get back to some semblance of a normal life.
This week for Teaser Tuesday, I want to share another story in the anthology. I read this excerpt and am just in love with Jane Anthony’s story. Take a peek at ‘The Row’ and let me know what you think.
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The Row
Dangers lurk in the shadows of The Row, an LA slum inhabited by junkies and miscreants. The place young Trinity calls home.
She and King, the de facto leader of a group of runaways, dream of a future free from crooked cops and dirty needles. A new life embodied by the love they share.
Desperation makes a man do crazy things. Including infiltrating the home of Diego Villarreal, California’s most ruthless and feared sex trafficker.
But in his quest for justice, King uncovers more than cash and drugs. Hidden beyond the opulent gates of Diego’s mansion are deadly secrets that might cost him and Trinity everything––including their lives.
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Excerpt
A putrid wind blows down the alley of Second and Main, the stink of garbage and poverty infiltrating my nostrils, spinning around me in a veil of disgust. A few doors down, my home awaits, but violent flashes of cop car lights spin in the background. Dropping my head, I walk on, trying my best to remain unnoticed.
It doesn’t work.
“Trinity! Just the girl I was looking for.”
When I chuck a glance toward the voice on my right, I notice the arm hanging from the dumpster. Onyx lines snake up the slender, lifeless wrist. Another dope head thrown in the trash. I’m numb to it at this point. Death is nothing but a part of life. If you’re lucky you can avoid it, but when that shit finally comes after you, there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
This one’s different, though. Embedded within the milky-blue skin, crisp, perfect pages of an open book shine in the brilliant sun. O’Hara . . . fuck.
I tear my gaze away from my friend and lock on a set of steel-gray eyes. “Just going home, Officer Bower.” The narco detective has been breathing down my neck ever since I first landed on Skid Row. That’s the nickname for this area of city. A section most people avoid at all costs, yet the only place I’ve ever felt at home.
“I need to ask you a few questions about Miss Westerfield.”
“Who?” I shoot back, my lids narrowed into slits. Here on the Row we never exchange names. O’Hara could actually be Jessica, Nicole, or Ava. She could be the fucking queen of England, for all I know. Most of us are hiding from whatever pushed us here in the first place. No one comes by choice. We end up here because we weren’t given one.
“We can talk here, Trin, or we can talk at the station. Think King’s lucid enough to come bail you out if you call?”
“I don’t know anything, okay?” I reply at the end of a sigh. “She was out on the corner waiting for some guy when I left last night, and here she is now.”
Tears threaten to burst over my lashes as I remember our last moments together, but I won’t give Officer Fuckface the satisfaction. She was already out when I hit the pavement, that part is true. Leaning against the lamppost, a tattered copy of Gone with the Wind in her petite hands. She smiled when she saw me, a dopey lovesick look on her face. She was getting out. That’s all she said. My Rhett Butler is coming. Nose in a book. Always. She wanted to be a writer or something. I don’t know. Had she not started messing with the junk, she probably could have done something good. But now her big claim to fame is nothing more than this, a dead body in a dumpster. Ward of the state now, she’ll be disposed of accordingly. Another kid off the streets. A warning for those huddled in their warm beds at night.
Averting my gaze, I swing my bag off my shoulder and rifle through for my smokes. Anything to keep my shaking hands busy. I squeeze the filter between my lips and light the tip, feeling Bower’s stare burn through my clothing.
“Did she say who?”
“I don’t know, man. I didn’t stick around long enough to ask. Figured I would see her later.” The cherry burns bright as I suck hard on the end of my cigarette before letting the smoke stream from my mouth in the direction of my creepy acquaintance.
Office Bower isn’t put off by open fuck you. Instead, he takes a step into my personal space. I recede, pushing against the warm brick wall of the row house. “Shame to see such a pretty young thing reduced to this, Trinity. How long is it gonna be until I’m pulling your body from a dumpster?”
The bitter tang of disgust hits my tongue. I purse my trembling lips and meet his icy glare. “I’m a survivor.”
“I know you think King can protect you. But he can’t.” He lifts his hand and touches the scar that runs the length of my cheek. A constant reminder of the hell I lived through. “He doesn’t run these streets. I do. For a price.”
“Don’t touch me, pig,” I spit, smacking his hand away like a spider.
Cruel laughter follows. A grimy baritone that rumbles in his chest seconds before booming from his throat like thunder. Sirens wail in the distance. More cops on the scene coming to remove one of the remaining members of our tribe. “Take my offer, Trinity. Or you’ll be sorry.”
* * *
Doesn’t this sound so helpless? I love how Jane has spun this world in so few words and I can’t wait to read the rest of it. Until then, Just Breathe is coming right along and is currently ranked 2nd place in October’s Most Anticipated Romances! Click here and vote if you can, I will love you forever if you could also add it to your TBR!
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Want to more about Jane Anthony?
Jane Anthony is an Amazon best-selling author of contemporary/erotic romance. She writes hot blue-collar dudes, raunchy rockstars, and fun feisty heroines. Her work is gritty and real and will have you cursing her name and begging for more. Jane gives a bit of herself and her quirky knowledge in each novel by incorporating her love of music through a book-specific playlist and adding things uniquely Jane to the plot, like her crazy family or ’80s trivia. When she’s not busy being mom or Mrs. A, you’ll find her at a concert, lost in a book, or watching horror movies with her husband.
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Sep 12, 2018 | Guest Spot, Teaser Tuesday
I had a great time at Show Me Your Books in Kansas City, I loved seeing everyone! But then my mom fell and broke her hip on Saturday, so I drove home Saturday night to be here for her surgery on Sunday morning. She made it through and is in good spirits. We’ve got some challenges with rehab + continuing chemo, and a lot more questions than answers on what will happen next, but she’s okay right now and that’s all that matters. I have some more things to announce, but first I want to share a story from the upcoming anthology I am in, Just Breathe. This is an anthology to benefit, To Write Love On Her Arms. To Write Love On Her Arms, is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope & finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide.
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Grounded
What is normal because I know I’m certainly not it.
Just stepping outside my front door leaves me wrecked.
My life used to be incomparable too what it is now.
Happiness and love filled my days and nights with joy.
Now it’s just panic, fear and crippling anxiety.
A constant battle to keep GROUNDED.
* * *
Teaser
Have you ever felt like you’re an outsider looking in on your life? It’s how I feel every day. I have something called anxiety. It’s because of a past traumatic experience—well, that’s what the doctors said anyway. They gave me these little white, round tablets and sent me on a course to learn how to overcome it: something called cognitive behavioral therapy. It was interesting, and I learned a lot, but for me, it was utterly useless. I still have anxiety, and I don’t think it’s ever going to go away. Anxiety isn’t just something you ‘get over’ with a sound night’s sleep, or you can just ‘pull yourself out of’ as people often say to me. It’s ingrained in my mind; in every pore of my body. And, just like now, as I try to take a step out of my front door on what is a particularly bad day, it is completely debilitating.
My knuckles are white as snow as they grip tight to the wooden frame of my doorway. ‘You can do this,’ I tell myself. ‘You’ll be fine. There’s nobody around to see you and laugh at you. Nobody’ll hurt you.’ My heart rate accelerates; I can feel it almost beating out of my chest. Thump, thump, thump. Ouch, it hurts. My palms are sweaty and start slipping on the door frame, which I grip hold of for dear life. This is just crazy. Next, the world begins to spin. I’m dizzy and disorientated. How can I be this weak? How can I be this much of a freak? I force my feet forward, but my legs turn to jelly. They’re barely holding me up. Last of all comes the nausea, I want to vomit. Many times, in the past, I have. Supermarkets, doctors’ offices, even walking down the street when someone has looked in my direction and smiled at me, I’ve opened my mouth and brought up the contents of whatever meal I’ve just eaten. If there’s anything going to bring on more anxiety, it’s people gawking at you while you stand in a pile of your own sick.
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Things are hard right now lovelies, every time I am almost caught up, something else happens. I can only hope my mom can heal without complication and I can get back to writing. I can’t wait to share with you more about this anthology though, stay tuned as I have more coming!
Add to your Goodreads now!
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Want to more about Anna Edwards
Amazon bestselling author, Anna Edwards hails from the rural countryside near London. She previously worked as an accountant, and while she still does a bit of accountancy on occasion, the majority of her time is now spent writing and looking after her family.
An avid reader herself, Anna turned to writing to combat depression and anxiety after her diagnosis in 2015. She loves travel, hunky heroes with dirty mouths, demure but spunky heroines, and dramatic suspense. You will find all four woven into each of her magical stories.
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Sep 5, 2018 | Guest Spot, Teaser Tuesday
There has been a lot of chaos here at the new house. New fridge, then replacement fridge. Cleaninnggggggg. Building furniture. Unpacking boxes (omg so many boxes). Getting ready for dogs, getting Maverick and Bailey!! Getting in trouble with the HOA because of the old homeowners. Ant infestations. Trying to still do day job work while also tackling the insane task of having anxiety in a house that is utter chaooossssss!!! So much that I almost forgot to share this, but how could I not?? Jane Henry just had a release last week and I can’t wait to dive into it!
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Island Captive
I was hired to apprehend a monster – a Dom who’d been sentenced to life for killing his submissive. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, and the images will haunt me forever. I swore I’d stop at nothing to put him behind bars.
But then our plane back to the States crashes.
We are the only two survivors.
And the monster will make me wish I’d died along with the rest of them…
* * *
Teaser
She hisses when her spanked ass comes in contact with the rough fabric on my jeans. Tipping one finger under her chin, I lift her eyes to mine. “Are you going to do what I say now?”
She glares at me and I see a flash of something I’ve never seen in her eyes before. Is it vulnerability? Something about being taken over my lap brought out the little girl in her. Tears glitter in her eyes, her lips pointing down in a frown.
“Fuck you,” she hisses.
I clearly haven’t broken her. I almost put her back over my knee. But no. Spanking is only one of many tools I have.
I gently push her off my lap and let her fall to her knees on the floor. I leave her panties on. I enjoy seeing them bunched up around her ankles as I force her onto her knees in front of me.
“I told you if you didn’t watch that mouth, I’d find another use for it,” I say, reaching for my zipper. The anger momentarily fades in her eyes, and they widen almost comically.
With her hands cuffed in front, still on her knees, she’s given no choice. I control this situation.
My cock is rock hard after spanking her. Causing pain like that always awakens the sadist in me, the one who yearns to cause pain and discomfort. Memories flash before me when I let my mind wander, the pain I’ve inflicted over the years burned into my mind like a scorching brand on flesh. I’ll never erase those memories from my mind.
“Open your mouth,” I order, fisting her hair and drawing her head back. Her mouth parts open and she stares at me. I lean in and rasp against her ear. “And now, you’ll show me how to use that mouth. Do anything funny, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t. Is that clear?”
She gives the faintest nod of her head.
She knows I’ve left her little choice but to do what she’s told. She also knows if I wanted to, I could have her spread eagled on that bed, taking my cock.
But not now. Not yet. Not until she begs.
I remove my cock, and slide it into her warm, wet mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise, then go half-lidded as she tentatively suckles.
I haven’t had sex in so long, I have to stifle a sigh. It feels so fucking good.
But this is about gaining control, not losing it, and I can’t let her see how her little mouth around my cock unravels me.
“Good girl,” I say, guiding her head with my fist in her hair, shoving it back and forth so her head bobs between my legs. “That’s a very good girl.”
I reach down and tweak her nipples while she sucks, making her moan and squirm. I knead them in my hand, palm them, then give lazy little pinches that make the buds harden and peak. Her eyes close and she sucks harder. I release one breast, grab her hair, and bob her head faster, fucking her mouth with savage thrusts of my hips. She gags, and when she opens her eyes, they water.
Maintaining eye contact, I keep a hold of her hair, pulling it from time to time to guide her mouth on my cock. I’m drunk on this, and I need to come. “You like this?” I ask her. “You like being a slut for your sir?” Another sharp thrust of my hips and she gags, pitching forward, inhaling deeply through her nose. But she can’t help the little moan she releases around my cock.
Fuck yes. Jesus Christ, this feel so fucking good.
When I’m just on the verge of coming I pull out, release her hair, swing it in front and wrap it around my cock. I fist my swollen cock in my hand, watching her eyes go wide when she looks at the large length.
“You stay there,” I rasp. “You watch me come. I’ll mark you, Nadine. Mark you as mine.”
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Holy shit island captive sounds HOT! If I ever unpack my house and organize my office, I am digging into this one asap! I hope you read it and tell me what you think, lovelies, get your finger ready and #oneclick now!
Amazon: 1-click it now
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Want to know more about Jane Henry?
Jane is an international bestselling erotic romance author in multiple genres, including contemporary, historical, sci-fi, and fantasy. She pens stern but loving alpha heroes, feisty heroines, and emotion-driven happily ever afters. Jane is a hopeless romantic with a houseful of children, and is married to her very own Prince Charming. She loves the ocean, chocolate, coffee, and sexy romance.
Aug 29, 2018 | Guest Spot, Teaser Tuesday
I now own a house, things have been moved and now there are so many boxes to unpack. Things have been so crazy, kiddo has started kindergarten, and I pick up my dogs next weekend, but when I saw this I knew I had to make time to share it. Tell me what you think!
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Blaze
Lia:
Here’s what I know: Firemen are nicer than cops.
More predictable. They have that same hero desire but it burns brighter.
They’re not quite as power-hungry or controlling. Except for the captain.
They call him Blaze and he’s got a streak of controlling cop for sure.
It’s a trait that unfortunately makes my knees go weak in a boss.
Especially a beefy fire captain boss.
Blaze:
Having smoking hot Lia Burke in my firehouse might be the death of me.
I can’t stand the other guys ogling her. They are not exactly PC.
It’s locker room talk around here twenty-four seven.
I swear I’m going to have a sexual harassment claim on my hands in less than a month.
And I’ll probably be the guy who crosses the line first.
* * *
Teaser
He lifts his chin toward an open door. “The bedroom’s in there. I want you to go in, shut the door, and take off all your clothes but your panties. If you need to use the restroom, do that first. Then kneel in the corner and wait for me.”
The flutters in my belly surge, my whole pelvic floor lifts and squeezes. This is really happening.
He’s serious.
Part of me wants to run for the door as fast as I can.
But I’m no chicken.
And besides, I want this.
It’s way more than a curiosity. Way beyond seeing what makes the captain tick. This is for me. When he mentioned punishment, something I never knew was inside me woke up. It was like he was speaking a secret language to me.
And yes, absolution for my sins sounds wonderful.
So does having it delivered by the sexy captain.
“Yes, sir.” I walk on wobbly knees to the bedroom and shut the door. This room is like the rest of the place. Clean. Comfortable. Simple.
I feel like I’m at the doctor’s office, where you strip as fast as you can because the thought of not being in the appropriate garb when the doctor comes back is embarrassing.
I want to get this right.
Do whatever Blaze asks of me.
And yeah, the kneeling gave me pause. But only for a second. And then it turned me way the hell on.
I take off my clothes and fold them up. In the corner, I see he’s put a small pillow on the floor.
It’s so freaking thoughtful, my chest tightens. Heart pounding, I drop to my knees on it, facing the juncture of the two walls.
Blaze comes in and shuts the door. I listen for his footsteps, but they don’t come to me, they head toward the bed.
“Come here, little girl.”
I stand up, heat burning my cheeks. It’s one thing to play sexy cock tease and goad him into spanking me at the station. It’s quite another to be called on the carpet this way. The fact that I’m almost completely naked and he’s fully dressed makes it all the more squirmy, which I’m sure is his intent.
Still, he’s warm. Almost inviting. He spreads his knees wide and reaches for me, pulling me to stand between them. He cups my ass in his hands, kneading possessively.
“Do you know what a safe word is?”
I nod.
“I need a yes, sir.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
His lips twitch. “What’s yours, baby?”
I nibble my lip. “Um… firetruck.”
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A hot fireman story? Yes please, sign me up as I could gladly read about him instead of unpacking all of these endless boxes. Don’t forget to click and have some water ready, your kindle is about to catch fire!
Amazon: 1-click it now!
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Want more of Renee Rose?
USA Today Bestselling Author Renee Rose is a naughty wordsmith who writes kinky BDSM and spanking romance novels. Named Eroticon USA’s Next Top Erotic Author in 2013, she has also won The Romance Reviews Best Historical, Sci-Fi and BDSM awards, Spanking Romance Reviews‘ Best Historical, Erotic, Ageplay and favorite author, and was a finalist for The BDSM Writer’s Con Golden Flogger award. She’s hit #1 on Amazon in multiple categories in the U.S. and U.K., is often found on the list of Amazon’s Top 100 Erotic Authors. To receive four free books from Renee, sign up for her mailing list here.
Aug 14, 2018 | Guest Spot, Teaser Tuesday
Fuck me things are busy. I swear one day I will have room to breathe. I hope by next week I will have news to share, I have so much going on! LK Shaw just released her new book Love Undercover this week and it is SO HAWT. Check out this snippet and tell me what you think!
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Love Undercover
Raised by her father and four older brothers, it came as no surprise when Ines Rodriguez followed in their footsteps and became a cop. After her oldest brother goes missing while investigating Miguel Alvarez, head of the Juarez Cartel’s U.S. operation, Ines infiltrates the organization to find him.
For five years, Brody Thomas has been deep undercover within the Juarez Cartel, working to bring the criminal administration down. When Miguel’s nephew brings home a sexy-as-hell Latina bombshell as his latest arm candy, alarm bells go off. Something feels wrong, yet Brody can’t keep his distance from her, even knowing his attraction could cost him his life.
But secrets never remain buried, and after Brody’s are uncovered, Ines will have to use every weapon in her arsenal to save him.
* * *
“Kiss me again,” I commanded, my fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him back down to me.
He immediately complied and more as his mouth nipped my bottom lip before ghosting along my jaw and into the sensitive crease in my neck. I tilted my head to give him better access. His tongue dampened my skin, and his breath warmed it. I should have guessed his intent, but I still gasped when hot moisture enveloped my breast. I couldn’t help tighten my grip on his hair, which I quickly loosened when I felt him flinch against me.
“Sorry.”
He released my nipple with a pop and tilted his head to smile up at me.
“A little hair pulling never hurt anyone.” He winked before returning to his task.
Tomás paid homage to both breasts, with either his mouth or his hand while he plucked and tweaked my puckered tips. I giggled when he brushed his lips over my belly. His scruff tickled. He didn’t stop his movements while he settled his broad shoulders between my parted thighs. His eyes darted up and our gazes met and held. I watched his fingers part my lower lips and then his tongue swiped a path up my slit taking my juice with it. My breath was coming in shallow gasps now, and I couldn’t take my eyes away. Tomás licked his lips as if savoring my flavor. Then he lowered his head again. This time he didn’t stop with a single lick. He nibbled and sucked and flicked his tongue, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to drive me wild.
He shifted and hooked my knees over his shoulders before pulling me closer and opening me wider. I was helpless to do anything else, but let him continue his sensual assault. My bones were like jelly, and I was putty in his hands. When he speared my opening, pushing his tongue in deeper and deeper, my thighs actually quivered. Tomás was merciless while he sipped and drank down my juices. I was on the verge of orgasm and then, without warning, it struck and I had no choice in losing eye contact, because my head was thrown back in ecstasy. Tremors racked my body, and I cried out his name.
Small quakes still fluttered inside me, especially when he slid back up my body and stared down at me, his mouth glistening. It was so fucking sexy, and this weird need came over me. A need to see how we tasted together. I pulled Tomás’ head down to me and plunged my tongue in his mouth, sampling our mixed flavors. It was erotic and sexy and we both tasted amazing. He groaned at my action and then pulled back, caging my head between his arms.
“Mmm, I love how we taste.” I licked my lips, drawing in a blend of his natural mint flavor and my musky sweetness.
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This is so hot, I can’t wait to dive in and devour this! Have you tapped that 1-Click button yet? What are you waiting for??
Amazon: 1-click it now!
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Want more of LK Shaw?
LK Shaw is a physical therapist assistant by day and author/social media addict by night. She resides in South Carolina with her high maintenance beagle mix dog, Miss P, who should probably just have her own Instagram account. An avid reader since childhood, she became hooked on historical romance novels in high school. She now reads, and loves, all romance sub-genres, with erotic romance and romantic suspense being her favorite. LK enjoys traveling and chocolate. Her books feature hot alpha heroes and the strong women they love.
LK loves to interact with readers. You can follow her on any of her social media. Don’t forget to sign up for her monthly newsletter! http://eepurl.com/ds5MOb
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Jul 31, 2018 | Guest Spot, Teaser Tuesday
I’ve been writing, lovelies, and Inheritance has been started! I have been so busy with writing, kiddo, and the house that I almost missed Ginger’s release, ‘Camille, Claimed’!! I can’t let that happen, because we alllllll love her, so check out this incredible opener below and tell me what you think!
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Camille, Claimed
CAMILLE
I’d call Bastien Durand a nightmare, but you can wake up from a nightmare. And a nightmare doesn’t make you delirious with pleasure – before ripping you to pieces.
In high school, Bastien was my boyfriend, my protector, my tormentor, my everything…until the summer when I learned the true nature of his evil. Now he’s back to finish what he started. He’s everywhere.
My bedroom, my office, my car…I can’t escape his sweet caresses or his brutal tortures.
And worst of all…I don’t want to. I want more. Because the pain he inflicts is the worst I’ve ever felt, but the ecstasy of his touch is the drug that sings through my veins.
I want him caressing me, whispering sweet lies into my ears…“I love you…I’m going to destroy you. My voice will be the last thing you hear before you die.”
BASTIEN
All of my life I’ve fought my cruel urges. But I’ve learned what dark forces shaped me, and the truth has set me free.
There’s a reason why I’m a monster, and now that I know the truth, I’ll destroy everyone who betrayed me.
First on the list is Camille, the girl who broke my black, evil heart. She left me once – she won’t escape me a second time. There are others who would take her from me if they could, because now that I’ve claimed her, she’s became a pawn in an ancient game. Let them come after her. I’ll kill them all, one by one. She’s mine. Mine to play with, mine to torment, mine to break into pieces so small she’ll never be whole again.
* * *
Teaser
Prologue
Bastien
Legacy: noun | leg·a·cy | ˈle-gə-sē
Something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past
– – –
I’m a wolf who was raised to be a sheep.
I have a long, rich, complicated family history. A legacy of evil and beauty. Power and terror.
My history and the truth about my nature were hidden from me, because I was raised by liars. I was raised by traitors. They feared me, loved me, caged me, comforted me, tried to ruin me. But a voice from my past came calling, the only true voice I’ve ever heard, and whispered in my ear. The voice told me where I really came from.
And now I’m free.
Free to hunt. Free to kill, to maim, to torture—whatever amuses me.
Free to claim her…Camille. My obsession. My first and only love. The princess I was born to conquer. The girl who was sworn to be mine…until she betrayed me with lies and ruined my life.
Nothing’s holding me back now. I’ll bury Camille in the deepest, darkest dungeon, where only I can hear her pleas for mercy…of which there will be none. I’ll be her nightmare, her tormentor, her only solace.
There are others who would take her from me if they could, because now that I’ve claimed her, she’s become a pawn in an ancient game. Let them come after her. I’ll kill them all, one by one. She’s mine. Mine to punish, mine to take apart, mine to make into my willing and eager slave—before I deliver the cruelest blow of all. The blow that she won’t survive.
Camille
Turning point: noun
1. A point at which a decisive change takes place; critical point; crisis.
2. A point at which something changes direction, especially a high or low point on a graph.
– – –
Bastien Durand was my turning point.
My life is divided into “before Bastien” and “after Bastien”. Life before Bastien was cool, monotone, lived carefully by the rules. Life after I met Bastien was a storm of color and emotion.
When I met him, I knew my life had forever changed. I just couldn’t imagine the horrible path he’d drag me down.
I sensed him before I saw him, and tensed, a gazelle in the sights of a lion. He slid next to me at the lunch table at school, and I felt a crackling in the air, like heat lightning. My heart beat faster. The forbidden place between my legs came to life, and shameful longings crawled through my mind.
Every day after that, for three delirious years, was like a fever dream of desire and a pleasure so intense that it was painful. But I learned to love that pain, that yearning, or maybe Bastien’s darkness spoke to a perversion that was slumbering inside me all along.
And then it ended.
And then he destroyed us.
I’ve spent the last ten years trying to recover, putting together a semblance of a life.
Now he’s back, with hate in his eyes and a knife in his hand. I’m still a gazelle in the sights of a lion, but this time he means to bring me down and tear my heart open the same I way did to him, to drink in my dying breaths. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Our collision course can’t be delayed anymore. He’ll slam into me, and we’ll explode, matter meeting antimatter, and God alone knows if anything will rise from the wreckage.
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Do you see what I mean? This is not a story I would have wanted to miss, I am so glad I got to share it with you!! Time for the clickyclicky so we can all dive into this deviousness!
Amazon: 1-click it now!
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Want more of Ginger Talbot?
Ginger Talbot is a fan of dark chocolate, dark romance, and talking about herself in the third person. She’s a restless soul who’s wandered from coast to coast, and can generally be found in the local bookstore coffee shop, flipping through the pages of a romance or thriller, and overindulging in lattes.
She majored in journalism and, in days of yore, worked as a newspaper reporter covering cops and courts, and then went on to work as a patient care tech in an emergency room. She’s also done stints as the world’s worst secretary and a mediocre cocktail waitress.
Now she sits around all day making up stories about sexy, dominant Alpha-holes and the smart-mouthed, sassy women who love to hate to love them.
