Yes, darlings, I’m back, and happy Wednesday to you all! Today I’m here with Lea Bronsen and her smouldering new contemporary romance Shade Addiction, now available from all online sellers of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Lea!
Ex-boxer Mike Logan struggles to put a brutal past behind and make ends meet as a bus driver. When a young runaway settles for an all-night ride, he seizes the chance to do a good deed—get her home safely. But first, they’ll drive around and talk.
What he doesn’t anticipate is that this broken night angel is also a sexy little minx needing a lot more … and not just the gentle kind.
**This is an expanded edition of the story previously featured in the anthology Passion, Pleasure, Pain in 2019**
She gives me a long, languorous look. I think I know what it means: She’s interested by my wild side. Dark attracts dark. She believes she’s found the same kind of fallen angel as she is, a soul mate.
Wrong, kiddo. What you need is someone good, not broken like me.
She reaches over the table to pat my chest. “So hard. Jesus. You definitely work out.”
Her touch sends electric sparks to my groin. My cock pulses. I push her hand away. “Don’t do that.”
I sigh. “I’m thirty-two, you’re what?”
“Nineteen, that’s very young. I could easily be accused of taking advantage of you. Did you see how the waitress treated me?”
She crosses her arms underneath her boobs. “But I’m an adult, and I have boyfriends.”
“You have boyfriends.”
“Yeah.” She holds my gaze.
I don’t know why I had to make a deal of that.
She continues, “So, it’s not like I’d let anybody touch me if I didn’t want them to.”
“Well, I don’t want you to touch me. Let’s go.”
Where to Buy
Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads
About the Author
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to the marvelous Lynn Burke, whose sultry new MC erotic romance Digger (Fallen Gliders, Book 3), is now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Lynn!
Digger is one badass bastard hell-bent on protecting his Fallen brothers–no matter the cost. He’s also ugly as shit, scarred for life by one of the men who gang-raped his mother. Born of violence and only wanted by women for his massive cock, he lives an unfulfilled life while secretly yearning for more.
Maci Irving is his opposite, a kind-hearted soul who wants to care for everyone she meets. She’s also one of his brother’s flavors of the month. Fuck the world, and fuck the dark sedan tailing him everywhere he goes—once he claims a taste of her he’ll do everything he can to keep her.
With his heart in her hands, can he convince Maci to stay with him and become his old lady, or will his violent lifestyle and its consequences end up to be more than she can bear?
“Capone said you could make me forget my own name,” she whispered while running her hands up over my chest.
My pecs flexed on their own beneath her firm touch. “Is that what you want?”
Lower lip sucking between her teeth, she nodded. Wetness coated her eyes, and fuck the goddamn ache that knifed through my chest. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered, pressing closer so her pussy rested against my straining cock.
Fuck, did she tempt me like no other woman I’d gotten my hands on. What she needed was rest, strong arms to hold her close as she slept.
I slipped my hand up over the back of her tight t-shirt, beneath her silken hair to hold her nape. “If you want to stop, just say so, and you have my word that we will.”
She leaned in and kissed me.
Mind fucking blown.
Soft and pliant, sweet yet minty … goddamn did I fall under the beautiful witch’s spell. Rather than take control and plunder the ever-loving shit out of her mouth, I held back, tracing my tongue along her lips rather than fucking her mouth. She opened to me with a sigh, and I gently threaded my fingers through her hair, angling her head.
My arm banded around her back, tugging her closer until her pert tits pressed against me. Slow rolls of my hips against her pussy tightened my balls and made her whimper against my lips.
Two pairs of fucking jeans in our way … and my brother I’d forgotten about.
I tore my mouth from Maci’s. Eyes hazed over, she stared at me, swollen lips parted.
Capone sat back in my chair, legs spread, hand sliding over his bulge, a smirk on his face. Fucker loved to watch almost as much as he loved to get his dick wet.
I massaged the back of Maci’s head and wiped the moisture off her lower lip with my thumb, torn over doing the right thing by taking a rain check until she was in a better frame of mind.
She flicked her tongue out, and I slid my thumb into her mouth without thought.
Goddamn. I groaned as she swirled her tongue and sucked. My cock jerked, and she ground her pussy against me. “Christ, woman.” Swallowing back another groan, I grabbed her ass in my palms and stood. Fuck it. I’d give her exactly what she wanted and then some. I just had to trust she’d stop us if it was too much.
Maci wrapped her legs around me as though they belonged there.
I nodded toward the hallway, and Capone hopped out of his chair to lead the way. He dimmed the lights as I knelt on the bed, sliding Maci to the center. She clung to me, but I pulled back onto my haunches.
Pale hair spread over my pillows, pulse in her neck fluttering, eyes wide and filled with need. The desire to see her like that every day of my fucking life welled over me like a nine-foot wave.
Should have freaked me the fuck out. Shouldn’t have enjoyed the satisfaction sizzling through my blood. Mentally, I pulled back, telling myself to keep my suspicions in place. Keep myself safe from rejection.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I said, running my fingers up her thighs, over her hip bones, under her shirt. Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric, tight buds calling out for attention. I palmed her tits beneath her shirt, and she arched into my touch, lower lip once more between her teeth.
“You like my hands on you.”
“God, yes.” She gasped as I rolled both nipples between my fingers.
“Capone?” I scooted back and flicked the button on her jeans as my brother climbed onto the bed and took over where I’d left off with her tits.
Maci gasped as he closed his mouth over her nipple, t-shirt and all, grasping the back of his head to hold him close.
A muscle in my jaw flinched to see his mouth on her, but our time together was for her pleasure, fulfilling one of her fantasies—not getting my balls twisted with jealousy.
She doesn’t belong to you, I told myself while sliding down her zipper.
Yet, another voice whispered in my head, clenching my jaw.
Other books in this series:
Where To Buy
About the Author
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
It’s Wednesday? Well, guess what? I’m sharing a teaser from Behind the Iron Cross, my delightfully kinky historical MMF romance set in 1925 Berlin that is FINALLY almost finished! Just have to polish off the end of Act Three and this puppy is baked!
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
In the aftermath of World War I, Berlin has become a hotspot of decadent pleasures, and American millionairess Kat Tracy is determined to enjoy each and every one of them with Sam Harrison, her late brother’s lover and her convenient “fiancé.” But when the two of them meet Friedrich von Bader, a former German Army officer turned reluctant prostitute, their wicked games take on a new meaning.
Sam found out what Kat’s obscure words about “adventure” meant once the lights of the lavish film theater had gone down and the first images flickered onto the silver screen. The theater, aping its brethren that catered to live performances, offered private boxes upholstered in red velvet and decorated with gilt curlicues. Kat had paid for one of these boxes, placing Friedrich between herself and Sam.
Ten minutes into the film he felt Friedrich stiffen beside him. Looking down, he spotted Kat’s hand resting on the German’s thigh. Her attention seemed to be focused on the movie, but her fingers slid over the other man’s fly with subtle deliberation, tracing the outline of Friedrich’s cock and balls through the wool of his trousers.
Sam found that he enjoyed playing the voyeur, deriving a deliciously wicked delight as Friedrich began to swell under Kat’s ministrations, squirming a bit as she stroked and teased him. She leaned forward a bit and caught Sam’s eye, glancing down at her busy hand then winking.
As casually as he could, he rested his hand on Friedrich’s other thigh. The muscle tensed under his palm and Friedrich muffled a tiny moan. The balcony of the box would prevent anyone on the main floor or mezzanine from seeing what was going on as long as it was kept at waist level. As Kat’s clever fingers continued to work Friedrich’s erection, he eased Friedrich’s belt open and unbuttoned his fly.
Kat murmured just loud enough for Sam to hear, “We’re going to make you come in public, Colonel. It’s up to you whether or not anyone notices. Do you understand?”
Friedrich swallowed hard and nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down from his temple at the movement. Sam wanted to kiss it away, taste the salt of the German’s arousal on his tongue.
“Excellent.” She licked her hand, then reached into his fly and tugged his erection out of his trousers. It looked dark in the silvery light from the scene, the plummy head swollen and glistening just a bit, and the thick veins that ribboned it already standing out along the shaft. Sam’s mouth watered at the thought of leaning over and engulfing it, using his lips and tongue to drive Friedrich wild. He loved the idea of their colonel desperately struggling to stay silent before giving in to pleasure and spurting helplessly across his tongue.
Kat leaned over again, looking like a considerate theatergoer passing along sotto voce comments on the film. “There are clubs here with stages, you know,” she whispered. “Sam and I could take you to one right now, strip you naked, and truss you to a wooden X on stage. You’re a handsome man with an attractive body. I can guarantee everyone in the club would be watching you as we played with your cock and balls.”
Another muffled groan came out of Friedrich, and he thrust lightly into Kat’s hand.
Sam decided to play along. He leaned close to Friedrich’s ear and whispered, “We’d take you to the brink, over and over again, until you begged us to let you come. Then I’d kneel down and suck you in front of everyone. Can you imagine how my mouth would feel, all warm and wet around you? I’d lick your balls, then a slow, wide lick up your shaft before I started teasing that little sensitive area right under the head. I know how much you like that.”
He widened the gap in Friedrich’s trousers and slid his hand in, avoiding Kat’s shuttling hand as he cupped the warm, furry sac. Friedrich’s balls flexed at his touch and he rolled them gently in their enclosure, stroking his thumb across crisp hair and soft, wrinkled skin.
“Maybe I should kneel down now,” he whispered. “Everyone’s watching the movie, after all. As long as you stay quiet, I don’t think anyone would notice. Would you like that? You could watch my head bobbing between your thighs as I sucked you off. My lips would be tight around your cock, and my tongue would feel so good against the underside.”
Friedrich made the tiniest noise, face twisted in pleasurable agony. “Bitte, bitte.”
“What, Colonel,” Kat murmured, her wicked little hand stroking faster now and adding a twist on the upstroke. “What do you want?”
“Bitte, I’m, I’m close. Please, Fräulein, please.”
Kat leaned forward again, giving Sam a feline smile. “Should we let him come, darling?”
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Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, darlings! Today I’m featuring Paige Warren writing as Harley Wylde and her smouldering new MC romance Badger, coming from Changeling Press on August 3 and now available for pre-order. Take it away, ladies!
Badger – I went to prison for ten years after beating a man to death. He deserved it, and then some. I only wish he’d suffered more. Now I’m free, but things aren’t the same as when I left. The little girl I once saved is now a tempting young woman with curves in all the right places. I should stay away, far away, but I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The Pres of my club adopted her, so she’s definitely a no-fly zone, but fuck if I don’t want her with every breath I take. A little sample wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? As long as Griz doesn’t find out, I’ll keep breathing. Sneaking around should be easy enough. I never counted on falling for her, or finding out she was carrying my kid. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m a long-time repeat offender. I can’t walk the straight and narrow. Can I?
Adalia – I’ve worshiped Badger ever since the night he saved me. But what started as a young girl’s infatuation has grown into something more. I know he’ll never see me that way, or at least I thought he wouldn’t. When we’re together, it’s like we just can’t keep our hands off each other. It’s probably against his parole for us to be together, but he doesn’t seem to care. The heat between us is undeniable. He didn’t promise me forever, just right now. But neither of us counted on me getting pregnant, something that wasn’t supposed to happen too easily, and I have no freakin’ clue what to do. I’m scared Badger will run for the hills. He never asked for this, but then neither did I. One thing is for certain. If he doesn’t man up and my daddy finds out, there will be hell to pay.
No one can hide from the President of the Devil’s Fury MC.
The trip back to Blackwood Falls took too fucking long, and I was feeling anxious. It had been a long damn time since I’d been in a vehicle, and I’d much rather have spent the hour-long ride on my Harley. Soon enough, I’d take it out on the open road, and just let the tension melt away. The only thing sweeter than a ride on my bike was being between a woman’s thighs.
As Demon stopped outside the clubhouse, he tensed and turned to face me. I had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth, but something told me it wasn’t anything I wanted to hear.
“There’s something you need to know,” Demon said.
“Anyone die while I was gone?”
“No. It’s about Adalia.”
My breath froze in my lungs as I pictured her wide blue eyes as they’d stared at me in terror. I’d found her in an alley, her clothes torn, and some asshole raping her. I’d seen her around town, knew she was only thirteen, just a kid. Something inside me had snapped, and I’d beat the fuck out of that asshole. Beat him to death. I didn’t regret what I’d done, only wished I’d gotten there sooner. Adalia had watched as I killed that man, and she hadn’t uttered a word the entire time. Not even when I took her to the hospital to be checked out. I’d known it wouldn’t end well for me, but my first priority had been the girl. Anyone else might have gotten off with a lighter sentence, seeing as how I’d been protecting her. But a guy like me with priors? I hadn’t had a prayer. Ten years to give her the peace of mind that the asshole who had touched her was six feet under? Yeah, it was a trade I’d been willing to make. I’d made it then, and even knowing I’d get time, I’d do it again in a second.
I might be an asshole biker with a rap sheet, but there were some things that even I wouldn’t tolerate. Rape was one of them. Anyone harming a kid was another, and that dickweed had done both. As far as I was concerned, the world was a better place without him in it.
“What about her?” I asked.
She’d be twenty-three now. Probably had a steady job, a nice boyfriend. At least, I hoped that’s how her life had turned out. But the way Demon had said her name… had something happened to her while I was gone? Had some other asshole tried to hurt her, and I hadn’t been around to save her this time? My gut clenched just thinking anything bad had happened to her. She’d been such a sweetheart the few times I’d been around her, always a little on the quiet side.
“She’s here,” Demon said quietly.
My heart started pounding, and I flung open the truck door, then reached for my cut and shrugged it on. I slammed the door shut and stomped up the clubhouse steps before going inside. There were balloons and shit everywhere, and the roar of welcome as I stepped inside was near deafening. But as I scanned the crowd, it wasn’t my brothers I was taking in… No, I was looking for her. I didn’t know what she looked like anymore, only remembered her as a teenage girl. She’d been terrified the last time I’d seen her. I didn’t know why she was here, but I had to see her, to know that she was okay. I’d thought about her every fucking day that I was inside, hoping she’d been able to get past what happened to her, had gone on to live a good life. I’d thought about writing her once, just to check on her, but had decided it was best if I kept away. She didn’t need any reminders from me about what had happened to her.
My brothers hugged me, slapped me on the back, and slowly they all parted. At the back of the room stood a pixie of a woman, long blonde hair curling over her shoulders, and a body made for sinning. It was her eyes that nailed my feet to the floor. Blue. And achingly familiar. My gaze traced her features, trying to find the little girl I’d tried to save. I didn’t see even a hint of the terrified teen I’d carried out of that alley. Her features were delicate, much like the rest of her. She had curves in all the right places, and would likely be more than a handful for some men, but I’d be willing to bet she wouldn’t even reach my shoulder. Tiny. Almost like a little fairy. Slowly, Adalia walked toward me, her hips swaying with every step. Yeah, she’d grown up while I was gone, and I’d be willing to bet men fell to their knees to worship at her feet. She looked like one of those plus-sized models, but in a shorter package.
She didn’t even hesitate when she reached me, just put her arms around my neck and hugged me tight. My arms closed around her, pulling her curves against me, and I breathed in her honeysuckle scent. Closing my eyes, I just drank in the moment. She was here. She was safe. And she felt a little too damn good pressed against me. The way my jeans tightened made me want to put some distance between us. I tried like hell to keep the image of her as a thirteen-year-old girl in my mind, hoping my body would stop reacting to the woman she’d grown into, but no such luck. The breasts pressing against me were more than a handful and far too fucking tempting, as was the rest of her.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she said, her voice soft and husky.
“It’s good to see you, pretty girl. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.”
“I tried to come see you a few times, but they always said you weren’t allowed visitors.”
I pulled away and smiled down at her. “I had a tendency to get into trouble inside. But now I’m glad you didn’t get any farther than the gates. Prison is no place for an angel like you.”
Her cheeks flushed and she smiled a little. “Welcome home, Badger.”
Where to Buy
Roosters is a multi-author series of stand-alone stories released by Changeling Press. Each book contains an arrogant, alpha hero in a contemporary romance setting. While Badger is an MC romance, not all of the Roosters books fall under this theme. You can find the other Roosters books by clicking here.
About the Author
Award-winning author Paige Warren spends her days weaving tales about alpha males and the women who love them. There’s nothing hotter than a man in tight Wranglers, dog tags (especially if he’s ONLY wearing dog tags!), or bad boys covered in ink. When Paige isn’t creating romantic tales, she enjoys reading and watching movies – romances, of course. If you see her out in the wild, you’ll most likely find her at Starbucks, sipping a white mocha with a distant look in her eyes as she figures out the right wording for the next scene in her latest book.
Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.
Harley is the bestselling author of the Dixie Reapers MC series. You can find her at harleywylde.com!
Whee, it’s Wednesday! Never fear, for today I’m here with Harley Wilde and her hot new MC romance Bull (Dixie Reapers MC #4), now available from Changeling Press and other online sellers. Take it away, Harley!
Have you always wanted to write?
I’m not sure that “want” is the correct word to use. It’s more like I “have” to write. If I go too long without putting words on the page, I get a little squirrely. Creative writing assignments were my favorites, even as far back as grade school, so getting to write full-time is a dream come true for me. I never set out to be a published author, but I’m glad I took a chance and submitted that first manuscript.
You write Contemporary Erotic Romance. Is that what you read, too?
Sometimes. I read a little bit of everything, as long as romance is the central theme. Contemporary, Western, Science Fiction, Paranormal…even Young Adult. When I go to the bookstore, the YA section is actually my first stop. For some reason, I prefer my YA books in paperback and my adult romances in ebook.
Do you write long-hand or only on the computer?
I actually have Lupus and osteoarthritis, so writing by hand isn’t really an option for me. Most days, I can barely hold a pen. My handwriting, which was once quite pretty, is now the absolute worst chicken scratch. Typing is easier on my hands, and I type a lot faster than I write.
About how many words a month do you average when you’re writing?
Around 50,000 to 65,000 on average. I’ve written as much as 90,000 in a month before though. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes inspiration strikes and just won’t let go. I really enjoy those months!
Dixie Reapers MC is your current series. Can readers expect more from you in 2018?
I’ll have more Dixie Reapers books out, but I’m also starting a spinoff series called Devil’s Boneyard. I’m hoping book 1 in the new series will be available in July of this year. If all goes according to plan, I’ll alternate between the two series through the end of the year.
Tell us about your current book.
Bull is book 4 in the Dixie Reapers series, but readers met him in book 1 (Venom). I had quite a few people express an interest in Bull getting his own story, and I hated that he’d never found love. Despite the fact he has a grown daughter, he’s never had a meaningful relationship, and I wanted to fix that. I hope readers will enjoy Bull and Darian’s story as much as I loved writing it.
When the guy I’d been seeing turned out to be a rapist sleezeball, I ran…and it let me straight to him. They call him Bull, and I can see why. The guy is massive, and I do mean everywhere. He’s so much older than me, but I can’t seem to care. The way he holds me, murmurs softly to me, I feel safe. No one’s ever cared what happened to me, but he does. I can tell he wants me, even though he’s fighting himself. But he doesn’t have to…because I’m his. I’ve held onto my virginity all these years, but I want him more than I ever thought I’d want someone. I want his hands on me, his body over mine. And for once, I’m going to get what I want. And I want Bull.
Darian’s younger than my damn daughter, but there’s something about the sweet girl that draws me closer. When I look in her eyes, I see that she’s a fighter, but I can also see that she’s been badly broken, and I want to be the one to put the pieces back together. I have nothing to offer her. There’s more than twenty years between us, and I know I need to walk away. I’m just a dirty old man who wants her under me. I’m hard as a damn post anytime she’s nearby, and I have to fight the urge to spread those creamy thighs of hers and drive into her, claiming her body and making her mine…until I have no fight left in me. I wanted to be a better man, to walk away, but I can’t. She begs me so sweetly, and soon I can’t resist anymore. She’s mine. And any fucker who tries to take her from me is going to die a slow and painful death.
Bull didn’t hesitate when he entered the house, but strode into the living room and eased me down onto the couch. He flicked on a lamp and as the room flooded with light, I was surprised to see that he seemed much older than my twenty-one years. There were lines at the corners of his eyes, but he was a very handsome man. As I took in the details of his face, I felt this intense pull toward him. I’d seen attractive men before. Well, mostly boys. But there was something about him, something different. The look in his eyes said he’d seen shit I couldn’t even fathom, and yet the way he watched me… it made me feel all warm and gooey inside.
He pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it onto a chair, and I felt my eyes widen as I took in his broad chest and large biceps. There was some sort of leather vest over his T-shirt, but I couldn’t read the writing. Even if the lines on his face hadn’t belied his age, there was no mistaking his body for that of a boy. He was definitely all man. The T-shirt he wore was stretched tight across him, and my fingers itched to see if his chest was as hard as it looked. I could understand now why they called him Bull. The man was huge. My gaze dipped down below his belt and my cheeks flushed when I saw his cock straining against his zipper. Yeah, he was big. Everywhere.
“What’s your name?” he asked, drawing my attention away from what was hidden in his jeans.
“Darian. Darian Crosse.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
I shook my head. “I’m from Georgia. The guy I was seeing told me about this awesome party and brought me here.”
Bull’s eyebrows rose. “And where is he now?”
“Probably still looking for me.”
Bull rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. I was too busy admiring him again to say anything more. I couldn’t say he was beautiful, but I’d never met anyone like Bull before. I felt like I could look at him all day.
“Is he the one you’re running from?” Bull asked.
“Him and the others,” I murmured, still admiring him.
His eyes narrowed. “What others?”
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes a moment. Their faces flashed in my mind, with their leering smiles. Bile rose in my throat as I thought about the words I’d heard, their intentions toward me, and their complete lack of humanity. Fear and revulsion rolled through me, and I knew I was damn lucky to have gotten away.
I focused on him again, trying to shake free from the horror of what had nearly happened to me. “The party Leo took me to expected me to be the entertainment, even though I hadn’t known that at the time. I’d confessed to Leo a few days ago that I was a virgin and was waiting for the right guy and the right time. I thought he was understanding and might be the one. I didn’t realize he was excited about my virginity for another reason.”
“That doesn’t explain the others you mentioned. Who were they?”
“Leo tried to drug me earlier, but I didn’t take the pills. When we got into town, we drove to some rundown place. I think it’s a few miles from here, but I honestly don’t know how far I ran. It was a house full of guys. Some looked younger than me and some looked older. Maybe late twenties or early thirties. When we stepped into the house, I realized quickly I was the only girl there. The guys weren’t quiet about their plans. They were going to take turns with me. All twelve of them and one said he was willing to pay Leo to be the one to take my virginity. Thankfully, it looked like they’d already been partying pretty hard, and they were either drunk, stoned, or both.”
A chill entered his eyes and his hands clenched at his sides. Suddenly the protective man who had been so tender with me looked more like a Viking warrior about to go off to battle. With his long blond hair and beard, I could easily see him with a sword, or whatever Vikings had used in times of war.
“They were going to gang rape you?” His voice sounded calmer than he looked. Anger poured off him in waves.
My throat tightened and I swallowed as tears filled my eyes. I hadn’t admitted to myself yet that that’s what they’d planned. Oh, I’d run the moment I’d realized what they were going to do, but I’d pushed it to the back of my mind and not used that word, breaking it down into pieces I could stomach instead of looking at the whole picture.
Bull noticed my distress and sank down onto his haunches in front of me. Some of the anger had faded from his eyes, and the tender guy who had picked me up off the pavement was back. He reached for me slowly, brushing tears off my cheeks that I hadn’t even realized I’d shed. That was enough to make the dam break and I started crying in earnest. Bull gathered me in his arms and sat on the couch, settling me in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, I felt like nothing could harm me. I clung to him, my hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt, as I soaked him with my tears. He didn’t seem to mind though, murmuring words of comfort to me.
Despite my distress over what had nearly happened to me, I felt completely safe in his arms. Being held by him was almost like coming home. That sense of rightness, of belonging. I’d never had that before, and it startled me that I would feel it now, with a complete stranger. I’d tried to always trust that inner voice though, and mine was saying that Bull was different, special.
“If they come here, will that guy at the gate tell them I’m here?” I asked as I got myself under control again.
“No. Johnny won’t say a word to anyone about you being here. Except maybe to Torch.”
I sniffled. “You all have weird names.”
Bull chuckled. “They’re road names. I’m part of the Dixie Reapers MC. Bull is what they call me.”
“MC. Like in Sons of Anarchy?”
He snorted. “Not exactly. Oh, our hands aren’t clean, but most of that show was strictly drama meant to entertain people.”
“So, if Bull is your road name, what’s your real name?” I asked.
I could see the hesitation in his eyes, and I wondered if it was taboo to ask him that. I didn’t know anything about the way of life in an MC. I hadn’t even been around bikers up close before, except watching them pass by on the freeway. He was the first I’d ever spoken to.
“Michael. My name is Michael, but outside of this house, I’m Bull and only Bull.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
He softly caressed my cheek. “But you can call me Michael if you want. When we’re here, by ourselves. No one’s used that name in a really long time.”
I felt the bulge in his pants pressing against my ass, and I didn’t think it was possible, but it felt like it was growing even larger. Holy hell! My breath caught in my throat at the unmistakable desire in his eyes. No one had ever looked at me like that. Oh, boys had told me I was pretty and said they wanted to fuck me. But the way Bull — Michael? — looked at me… it was like he wanted to devour me. My nipples pebbled and as his hands shifted, I felt a sudden jolt in my core.
This is wrong, Darian. What the hell is the matter with you? You were almost raped and now some stranger is turning you on? Are you just going to give it up to some random guy?
Despite my inner pep talk, my body didn’t seem to be listening. Desire curled through me, heating the blood in my veins. Even if his arms hadn’t been around me, I wouldn’t have gotten up and walked away. I’d waited so long to feel like this. Was the timing all wrong? Oh yeah. But I couldn’t ignore the way I felt, didn’t want to ignore it.
If you missed the first three books in the Dixie Reapers series, you can check them out here.
Where to Buy
About the Author
Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.
Harley Wylde is the “wilder” side of award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith. Visit Jessica’s website at jessicacoultersmith.com or Harley’s website at harleywylde.com. Want to be notified of new releases or special discounts? Sign up for her newsletter!
For fans of Gay Romance, Harley/Jessica also writes as Dulce Dennison.
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, darlings! Today I’m featuring Faye Avalon and her new fantasy romance Caelan’s Captive. Take it away, Faye!
Escaping the king’s harem, Lahna finds herself at the mercy of a warrior prince who holds her captive and makes no secret of his desire to have her. Lahna hasn’t fled from one tyrant only to become the captive of another, and she certainly has no intention of warming the bed of the fearsome prince…even if he does make her body burn and her senses reel.
Caelan suspects his voluptuous captive may have been sent to spy on him and discover his plans to liberate his land from the tyrannical rule of the king. But her arrival provides him with the perfect opportunity to set those plans in motion. First, that means making her his, and in doing so he might just satisfy the craving for her that heats his blood and fires his loins.
But can Caelan really trust her? And can Lahna trust him to keep her safe when it matters most?
He had markings on his skin, the type that were forbidden by the king. What looked like intricate black ribbons circled his muscled upper left arm. He also had scars along his right arm, the kind made by weapons of battle.
He caught her staring at him and she looked away, sipping at the water again.
“You find something of interest?”
She swallowed before glancing back at him. “You are not what I expected.”
His expression darkened and a tension moved into his big body. “Indeed. And what did you expect?”
At the coldness in his eyes, Lahna reached for her inner strength and all the bravado she could muster. “You wear the marks of battle and your hair is long.”
His gaze held hers, searching for some hidden answer for which she didn’t know the question. Then he leaned closer. “Before anything else, I am a warrior. You would do well to remember that.”
She pushed her head back into the pillow as he leaned farther down. When her stomach pitched again, she wondered at the wisdom of eating too much bread. Except this feeling didn’t feel like over-indulgence.
Only when he straightened did she breathe once more.
“What is the name by which you are known?”
What kind of game was he playing? Of course he knew her name. “Lahna,” she sneered, lifting her chin.
He said nothing, but narrowed his blue gaze directly at her.
She wouldn’t be intimidated. “How long am I to remain here?”
“As long as you wish.”
“As I wish?”
Pointedly, he looked around him. “Do you see locks on the doors? Bars on the windows?”
No, she didn’t, come to think of it. At least, none that were visible. But was it a ploy? Was he trying to lull her into feeling secure and then he would pounce? She didn’t trust him. Couldn’t afford to trust him.
“There are more ways to imprison a woman than with locks and bars.”
“Why would I want to imprison you?”
Was he genuinely trying to provoke her? “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? I’m little more than your prisoner, your captive. I appreciate you letting me regain my strength before I face my fate, but I would prefer to have an indication of what to expect when I am back to full health. What is to be done with me?”
“Now why would you expect that I intend to do anything with you?”
Infuriating man. He was toying with her like an animal trapped in a snare.
“I am in your quarters, am I not? Why am I here if not to be punished in some way?”
“May I remind you that you sailed into my waters uninvited? Had I not plucked you out of the reef, you would now be food for the fish.”
Sailed into his waters? Uninvited?
Everything inside her grew warm. Had she truly made it out beyond the horizon to where she had heard people lived freely? Unencumbered by the king’s tyrannical rule?
Her heart began pounding with joyful relief at the thought she might be free. But if that were so, where was she? This man spoke the same language, ate the same foods.
Maybe it was a trick and the king had meant to test her, find out why she had tried to escape. Had he tasked her guard to ingratiate himself with her, to learn of her plans, her reasoning? To pretend that he didn’t know who she was?
Yet, if this man really didn’t know her identity, and had no idea from where she’d come, maybe she had sailed far from the king’s clutches, to another land.
Regardless, she had to play things very carefully. It didn’t matter where she was. The king’s reach was vast. This man could be in the king’s employ whoever he was, and wherever he lived. The islands that were now under Zomotian rule would never dare go against their new ruler, the king.
She had to think. Had to remain vigilant.
The man surveyed her closely, suspicion heavy in his hypnotic gaze. “When your health is recovered, I will arrange for you to be sent back home.”
Grasping for courage she didn’t feel, she angled her chin into the air. “S…sent back?” Everything inside her went to ice.
Where to Buy
About the Author
Faye Avalon enjoys writing sexy stories about strong men and the savvy women who rock their world. She has taken a roundabout journey toward her writing career, working as cabin crew, detouring into property development, public relations and education, before finally finding her passion: writing spicy romantic fiction. Faye lives with her super-ace husband and one beloved, ridiculously spoiled dog.
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, pumpkins! Today I’m featuring Lee Piper and her hot new romance novel Rock My Body (Mondez Book 2). And now, here’s Lee to answer some questions!
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WRITING PROFESSIONALLY
I’ve been writing professionally for two years, though spent my entire childhood and adolescence writing. It was the only way I could make sense of the changes and experiences I was going through at the time; I guess it was therapy in a way. I stopped writing once I graduated university – life got in the way – and picked up a pen ten years later after my second miscarriage when I once again needed a way to make sense of my world.
HOW DO YOU DEAL WITH REJECTIONS FROM PUBLISHERS AND EDITORS?
I cry. Seriously. It’s so hard not to take rejections personally because books become an extension of who we are as people. We put so much time and effort into them, we breathe and live these stories, so it’s really difficult not to think that a rejection – no matter how kindly worded – isn’t a reflection of our self-worth.
So I let myself feel sad, I wallow in it for a while and then, when I can finally look at the rejection from a more objection perspective, pick myself up and move on. After all, my books aren’t going to publish themselves.
HOW DO YOU MAKE TIME TO WRITE?
To be honest, I’m still struggling with the whole work/life balance thing. I’ve got a four month old and have a toddler as well, so it’s difficult to find a time when I’m not completely exhausted outside of work.
Before I had my second child though, I would dedicate two hours before work and about an hour afterwards for my writing which worked brilliantly. This meant I was able to write Rock My World in about five months.
WHAT OR WHO INSPIRES YOU TO WRITE?
Other writers inspire me. The fact that there are so many ridiculously talented people out there who can transport readers to another world through the turn of a phrase, is truly mind blowing. And it doesn’t stop there. Every word chosen has been so carefully thought out, edited and then edited again. There’s so much blood, sweat and tears behind every book published and this willingness to share a part of oneself with the world, is beyond brave.
Music also has the same effect. And I’m talking the heavy rock kind – the louder the better. For every book I write, I have a soundtrack. Cog’s The New Normal was the album which I listened to religiously while writing Rock My World. Whereas Dead Letter Circus and Twelve Foot Ninja (all awesome Aussie bands btw) are what I’m listening to at the moment when writing the third in the four part Mondez series, Rock Me.
IF YOU COULD GIVE NEW WRITERS ONE PIECE OF ADVICE, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Write what you know. The written word is more authentic when it comes from personal experience, though that’s not to say you can’t embellish it to suit your own purposes. For instance, at the beginning of my first novel, Rock My World, the heroine, Grace is a bitter, broken young woman who finds trusting people really difficult. These emotions were exactly what I was drowning in after losing my second child. I was therefore able to ‘method act’ my way through the storyline to ensure her actions/interactions were credible and realistic. However, that’s where the similarities end. She also talks before she thinks – often with hilarious results – and has the mouth of a sailor which isn’t me at all!
Enter Dominic Mondez, the hottest guy ever to grace pecs and abs. He propositions Riley with a cocky yet tempting offer of the best sex of her life—his words. However, after learning he’s a manwhore who never sleeps with the same woman twice, Riley’s decision becomes remarkably simple.
No. Way. In. Hell.
He is a commitment phobe; she needs commitment. End of story.
Sadly, traversing the murky waters of friends without benefits isn’t simple, especially when he’s lead guitarist of local rock band, Mondez. Riley is also cautious of his tempestuous nature, womanising ways and—even worse—inexplicable jealousy. He is bad for her in every possible way.
Bad, bad, bad.
If only her body would listen.
He was watching me, I could feel it. My body sensed him long before my head did and started tingling. Everywhere.
Oh, holy mother.
Just the thought of him made my heart pound. Traitorous thing. It merrily rammed against my ribcage as soon as I pictured his tall, muscular body and dishevelled, russet hair. My fingers itched to reach out and delve through the soft strands—they remembered what it felt like to tug down on them as he groaned into my open mouth—but I shifted in my seat and sat on them instead. I wasn’t going down that road again, hell no. I was done. D.O.N.E.
A low chuckle cut through the muted sounds of heavy rock music emanating from inside, its gravely sound resonating with my downstairs department, causing a deep blush to stain my cheeks.
Clearly, I wasn’t fooling anyone.
What in the name of sweet baby Jesus is he even doing here?
I tried so hard to focus on what Sebastian was saying. Thankfully, he held up his end of the conversation despite my unexpected inability to formulate any words. We’d been sitting together for a while without a single awkward pause so I nodded, smiled, and even laughed when required. To be fair, it was a pretty decent pick-up attempt. Well, until he showed up.
Blue eyes burned my skin.
You don’t own me, you don’t own me, you don’t—
I swallowed, steeled myself and then glanced across the beer garden.
Dominic was leaning against the wall, his black, button-down shirt almost bursting at the seams. I blamed those insanely strong pecs and biceps. Honestly, they were huge. And the way his dark blue jeans hung enticingly low off narrow hips… Well. It should be illegal. He was going to give someone—aka me—a cardiac arrest if he wasn’t careful.
I shook my head. With a bottle of beer in one hand and a buxom blonde in the other— this one looked nastier than most—the guy was the physical embodiment of everything I despised. Truly.
If only my body would listen.
Raising the drink to full, kissable lips, he tipped his head back, piercing gaze still locked on me. He then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a flicker of emotions I couldn’t identify crossing his face when he noticed my breath catch.
The girl must have registered his distraction too because she started rubbing herself up against him like an overly aroused limpet. Gross. He broke contact with me and looked down at her, a dark smile tugging his lips. After murmuring something in her ear and slapping her on the behind, she giggled. I looked away, that familiar painful knot forming in my stomach once more.
Damn you, Dominic Mondez. Damn you to hell.
Where to Buy
About the Author
Lee Piper is a lover of books. She often juggles reading seven novels at a time for the sheer joy of it. At the grand old age of five, Lee decided to become an author, however found a limited market for her unicorn stories. So, high school English teacher it was.
At thirty-two, and grieving the loss of her second miscarriage, Lee turned to novels—Kylie Scott, to be precise—to escape the pain. This then inspired her to write Rock My World, the first in a four-part contemporary romance series, and her debut novel became an Evernight Publishing bestseller within the first two weeks of publication.
Lee lives in Adelaide, South Australia with her drummer husband, cheeky daughters, and one very crazy dog.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Jessica Coulter Smith’s new romance Ella and the Alien Gamer, now available from Changeling Press and other purveyors of fine online romance. Take it away, Jessica!
Ella has had a hard life as a single mom who barely makes ends meet. But she’s never once asked for help, and she never would. When Valero barrels into her life asking for things she’s not ready to give, she holds herself back. Mostly. The thought of taking the sexy alien to bed is more than a little tempting … except he’s playing hard to get.
Valero has wanted a mate ever since he was old enough to think of having a family of his own. He’s never thought of claiming a female with a child in tow, but Connor’s amazing gaming skills intrigue the video game designer. Asking the small family to move in with him seems reasonable enough since he plans to claim them as his, but Ella’s commitment issues prove to be a problem.
What’s a geeky gamer to do when the Cinderella of his dreams wants sex, but nothing else?
Valero growled as he jabbed at the buttons on the controller. Rory and her damned dragons! When she’d said she couldn’t beat this level, he’d thought it would be a piece of cake. How hard could a game be that centered around an adolescent purple dragon? Harder than fuck, that’s how hard.
“Bust the gem, turn the wheel,” he muttered as he went through the steps. Little green things attacked him. “Argh. Die, you little bastards!”
“My mama will wash your mouth out with soap,” said a small voice.
He glanced to his right and nearly dropped the controller when he saw a small human child. Where the hell had he come from?
“You’re doing that wrong,” the boy said.
No shit. That was why he’d been trying to put out the fires for the last half hour without success. What the hell did the small child know about it though? He held out the controller.
“Since you seem to know what you’re doing, want to show me how it’s done?” Valero asked.
The boy grinned from ear to ear, snatched the controller, and started playing with the finesse of an advanced gamer.
“How the hell did you know where the buckets were?” Valero asked.
“Soap,” the boy replied in response to his bad word. Apparently hell wasn’t allowed either. “And I have this game at home. I beat it on the second day. I probably would have done it sooner, but Mama wouldn’t let me stay up playing all night.”
The boy beat the level and handed the controller back.
“What other games can you play?” Valero asked. He’d never met such a young gamer before and he had to admit he was a little fascinated. He hadn’t even known such a small human could play video games.
“I have Minecraft, Sonic, Lego Harry Potter, Lego Star Wars, and a few others.”
“What about Halo or Gears of War?” Valero asked.
“Mama says they’re too violent for me. But I wish I could play them. The kid games are too easy. I don’t see why the adults are the only ones being challenged.”
Valero’s eyebrows went up. A challenging children’s game? Was there a market for such a thing? Unless this child was a gaming prodigy, then there were probably others out there feeling his same frustration. Definitely something worth looking into.
“What types of challenges would you like to see in a game?” Valero asked.
“Well, I like the time challenges where you have to complete so many tasks in a certain amount of time. I like the fighting levels in Lego Star Wars. But collecting stuff like the rings in Sonic or the gems in Spyro can be fun. I just wish you could do more with it.”
The kid was rather insightful for someone so young. And he was giving Valero an idea. His game company was still in the fledgling stages and he needed something new and edgy to put him on the map. Or so he’d thought. Maybe he was looking at the wrong demographic. He’d been thinking of a game adults would like where you blew up stuff, but if gamers were starting out as young as this kid, children who weren’t allowed to play the more violent games, then maybe he needed to tap into that audience. The only problem was that his game testers were Rory and Zwyk, and neither would be able to give him the information he needed.
“He’s not bothering you, is he?” a soft voice asked.
Valero stood and faced the woman, and damn near swallowed his tongue.
Where to Buy
About the Author
Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child writing her first stories in crayon. Today she’s a multi-published author of over seventy-five novellas and novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and spills over from her professional life into her personal one. When she went on that first date with her husband, she never expected to hear the words “marry me” pop out of his mouth — and judging by the shocked look on his face, he hadn’t meant to say them either. But, being the hopeless romantic that she is, Jessica said yes and they’ve been married since 2000.
Jessica firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world. She’s often gazed at the stars and wondered what, or who, else might be out there. Who’s to say that hunky model on the hottest romance bestseller isn’t really from some far off galaxy? Maybe that blue Martian you saw at Halloween wasn’t really in costume. After all, there’s an awful lot of space out there for us to be the only ones living in it.
Find more Changeling Press books by Jessica Coulter Smith at http://www.changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=144.
TGIF! Let’s kick off the weekend with Lucy Felthouse’s almost-but-not-quite taboo M/M erotic romance novella, Illicit Relations, now available in audiobook format. Narrated by voice artist Nick Dee, you can now listen to this coming-out romance on the go!
Terry’s had a crush on his second cousin Justin for what seems like forever. He’s hidden it as well as possible, knowing that the other man is out of bounds, forbidden fruit. Second cousins getting together isn’t actually illegal, but for Justin the relationship is too close—he just can’t contemplate them being together.
But when some new information comes to light about Terry’s birth and his place in the family, the whole game changes. Suddenly the relationship isn’t so impossible, and things soon begin to get hot and heavy.
Praise for Illicit Relations
“One of the sweeter stories as it unfolded of the M/M romance that I have read, the sex is hot and steamy, and enhanced by the POV of the characters in the wonder of the moment, and the descriptions used. At just over 60 pages, this isn’t a long and complicated read, but a quick reading story that gives detail and breath to the characters, and provides some incredibly steamy moments for readers, leaving everyone with a smile.” 4 out of 5, The Jeep Diva
“Lucy has done it again with another great story that both entertain and enjoyable to read. Surprises are plenty in this quick read. Solid 4 star read.” In the Pages of a Good Book
“I would highly recommend this to anyone who is looking for a short, highly erotic and romantic read. Illicit Relations would appeal to readers of both sexes.” 4 out of 5, Blood, Lust and Erotica
Where to Buy
eBook available here: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/illicit-relations/
About the Author
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9.
Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.
Welcome to another edition of Marvelous Monday Reads, pumpkins! Today I’m featuring Jules Dixon and her hot new fairy tale romance Rescued By Love. And now, here’s Jules!
Aurora Jessen lives a life that would make a princess envious, but will her prince ever find her with her overprotective father hovering? When the infuriating Drexel Mason returns to town, his ability to get her to almost spontaneously orgasm while simultaneously making her want to stab him fascinates her, but a deadly accident reiterates the lack of control over her own life.
Drexel Mason’s childhood was more a scene from a nightmare than a tale of fated love. The memories make him cover his pain with a secret elixir, but Aurora’s kiss confiscates the lingering ache. When she accidentally takes his pain-killing potion, he’s given an opportunity to slay the dragon of his cruel past and release the prince hiding inside.
Will Drexel save his princess or will she continue waiting for true love in her ivory tower?
I rested my cheek against his shoulder and my nose brushed carelessly against his neck. His body stiffened and I wondered if it was from the touch or something else. I could hear his heart beating fast in his chest and the sound was comforting. I inhaled a deep breath and smirked.
His cologne isn’t that bad. Just takes time to get used to it.
“Drexel?” I asked.
“Why did you kiss me?”
“Yeah, I didn’t kiss you, Princess. You kissed me.”
I’ll show him Princess!
As if he knew I was going to try to get away, his hand pressed on my shoulder blade to hold my body to him.
I adjusted my head so I could look up at him again. “No, you kissed me, Drexel.”
“Don’t say my name like that,” I said through gritted teeth.
His lips grazed my ear. “Ah-roar-ah.” He pulled the life from every syllable until I needed the next one like the oxygen in my blood. “We both know that was an impulsive and uncontrolled Aurora kiss. It wasn’t a Drexel kiss. When I kiss you, it’s different than that kiss. I’m sure you remember what one of my kisses feels like, right?”
I ignored the question. To remember brought back memories I didn’t want to forget, but I’d pushed them down to move on with life like he had.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t like that kiss,” I hissed back.
“Didn’t say I didn’t like it. I’m saying I didn’t start the kiss, and I was only participating in being molested by your tongue because you seemed to be enjoying it.”
“I seem to remember your third leg was molesting me and would lead me to believe you were enjoying it.”
“Whatever.” He chuckled and my rising blood pressure made my face flush.
“Did you just ‘whatever’ me?”
“Just trying to speak your language.” His hand lowered and slipped into the open slit on the back of my dress. With his hand spread across my lower back, I could feel the tip of his pinkie just resting at the top of the split of my butt cheeks, sliding under the lace of my thong. Skin on skin.
I wiggled and shout-whispered in his ear, “Drexel, your hand!”
“Uh-huh, nice thong.” He was an excellent dancer, swaying our bodies in unison to the dreamy but sultry beat. He spun us at just the right moment, compelling the breath to exhale in excitement from my lungs. “What about my hand?”
My breathing shallowed and my body betrayed me, hardening my nipples. “Please, your hand.” A moan escaped my lips.
Drexel rumbled a soothing, manly murmur of appreciation in response. “Now, why can’t you be this Aurora all the time? So peaceful and graceful, and not pissing me off?”
Where to Buy
About the Author
Fuzzy sock collector, martini connoisseur, baseball fanatic, and dandelion lover, author Jules Dixon is a living testament to the genius of sugar and caffeine being able to keep a human alive. She’s addicted to everything related to the amazing emotion of love, probably instigated by her own happily ever after of 25 years with her beer-brewing hubby. Their own love story created a sassy, artistic daughter and a computer genius but ultra-sarcastic son.
Jules explores the rich psychology of sexuality, choices, and conflicts of high school, college, and young adult characters with sizzle and humor in her novels and novellas. She’s a busy writer, and she loves it!