Blog Tour: “Beautiful Liar” by Tara Bond

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SYNOPSIS

Reliable
Nina Baxter has her life all mapped out. She wants to work hard, take care of her younger sister and not end up like her drunk of a mother. Most of all, she plans to stay away from bad influences.

Reckless
Alexander Noble doesn’t give a damn about anything or anyone. The heir to an unimaginable fortune, he’s never had to do a day’s work in his life, and devotes himself to pleasure and partying.

When opposites attract…
From their very first meeting, Nina knows Alex is bad news, and vows to stay away from him. But as their paths continue to cross, she can’t help being drawn to him – especially when he makes no secret of his interest in her.

Can they resist the pull?
For the first time ever, Nina is on the brink of following her heart. But can she believe Alex when he tells her to trust him? Or is he just another beautiful liar?

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My Review

Complimentary copy provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review

I would like to begin this review by stating that this is not your typical “good-girl-meets-millionaire-bad-boy” if that is what you are thinking after having read the blurb. Obviously, I will not spoil the plot for you, but I will say that I was pleasantly surprised by how the story of Nina and Alex progressed, and that I was fully invested in it until the very end.

Nina Baxter is young, responsible…and desperate. Her life with an alcoholic mother is, to say the least, less than stabile, and the way Nina struggles to make ends meet while upholding some sort of normalcy of the life of her sister, Alice, felt very realistic to me. And when Nina finds her situation to become worse than it already is, she is forced to make a decision that she does not want to. But is that not always the way when we are at the lowest point in our lives?

Nina turns to the one person she is reluctant to meet which puts her in the footpath of Alexander Noble: a very rich, high society playboy, who she, quite clearly, should steer away from. However, certain events occur that force her to become better acquainted with him, and a budding attraction between them forms between them and grows by each encounter. Eventually, this makes Nina long to toss her control and rules away for once. To stop being the responsible daughter and merely live. The trouble is if she can trust Alex with her heart…or not?

There is no doubt about the fact that Nina and Alex are complete opposites, but as you read the book, you learn that they may not be that different from each other where it truly matters. And while I applauded Nina for being so good at taking care of her younger sister, for doing her utmost to keep them together, I was also happy to see that she, in some ways, is just like any nineteen-year-old girl: that things can become too much for her. The fact that even she yearns to be selfish from time to time instead of the grown-up only adds credibility to her character, in my opinion.

Alex is an interesting character; and one that is a bit difficult to get a handle on in the beginning. He has secrets – or that is what it seems like to Nina – and he leads a life that is so far away from her own. But I have to say that the more I got to know him, the more I was able to empathise with the person he truly is, and what I saw made him rather endearing to me. Yes, he does have the “bad-boy” persona, but he is still different from other BBFs I have come across lately, and I like that.

Miss Bond manages to convey the differences between poverty and wealth very well in her book; her imagery is very vivid, and her vocabulary is vast. Her writing is engaging, easy, and emotional, and I was fully immersed in ‘Beautiful Liar’ until the very end. Granted, there are also a lot of steamy scenes which is part of the reason I read romance novels – why beat about the bush? – and I liked that I did not get all the answers handed over to me on a plate right away. There are a few twists and turns that I did not see coming but which I believe only heightened my reading experience, and I liked the pace and setting of it very much as well. I do wish, however, that the ending had not seemed so rushed as it did, but that is just my personal opinion, of course.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book, and I am looking forward to seeing more of Miss Bond’s work in the future.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tara Bond

Tara Bond grew up in Surrey, England. She read History at Cambridge University, before working in various sensible office jobs. She lives in London with her husband, and loves reading and writing, as well as watching movies and TV box sets. Her guilty pleasures are cocktails and chocolate desserts.

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Book Tour: “Silver Bastard” (Silver Valley #1) by Joanna Wylde – My Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

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SYNOPSIS

First in the new Silver Valley series from the New York Times bestselling author of the Reapers Motorcycle Club Novels

Fourteen months. For fourteen months, Puck Redhouse sat in a cell and kept his mouth shut, protecting the Silver Bastards MC from their enemies. Then he was free and it was time for his reward–full membership in the club, along with a party to celebrate. That’s when he saw Becca Jones for the first time and set everything in motion. Before the night ended he’d violated his parole and stolen her away from everything she knew.

Five years. It was five years ago that Puck destroyed Becca and saved her all in one night. She’s been terrified of him ever since, but she’s even more terrified of the monsters he still protects her from… But Becca refuses to let fear control her. She’s living her life and moving forward, until she gets a phone call from the past she can’t ignore. She has to go back, and there’s only one man she can trust to go with her–the ex-con biker who rescued her once before.

Puck will help her again, but this time it’ll be on his terms. No more lies, no more tears, and no more holding back what he really wants…

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My Review

Complimentary copy provided by the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review

MC books are one of my favourite genres to read even though they are rarely about all the “hearts and flowers” stuff; if written well, they are raw, gritty, incredibly sexy and with some heavy issues to address. Not having firsthand knowledge about MC clubs and their dealings, I cannot say that I know much about that lifestyle; however I would venture a guess and say that the way Miss Wylde writes her stories seems to be very realistic. At least, that is the opinion of this bookaholic.

The story about Becca and Puck is absolutely not an easy one to read: and you will come to realise that very early on in “Silver Bastard”. Having said that, theirs has already become one of my favourites, and I will try to explain why – and not provide any spoilers, of course.

To say that their love story is a tumultuous one would be an understatement. Becca comes from a very violent background, and although Puck’s is similar, he has the advantage of being a man and not a woman. Whereas he has always embraced this lifestyle, Becca shies away from it – and you most definitely cannot blame her for wanting nothing to do with it. So how will these two be able to come to an understanding while, at the same time, able to form a deep connection and remain it?

I really came to like Becca as I read this book: she knows that she has issues, yet she does everything in her power to work through them and get to a healthy place. She can be rather funny, and her inner musings made me laugh a lot. But my heart also bled for her so many times. I admire her strength and her determination to reach her goals in life. On some occasions, perhaps, she also managed to frustrate me a bit, but when I reminded myself of her age – and thought about her upbringing – her stubbornness and unwillingness to let go at times were quickly forgiven. Because they are valid and understandable.

Puck is most definitely a rather terrifying man – but his job description demands that of him. He has to be scary in order to be a biker, and he makes no excuses for it. And I do not believe he should. He is absolutely an alpha male, one who goes after what he wants; and despite keeping his distance from Becca for years, he reaches a breaking point and gives in to his need for her. I admire him for that; yet he can also be sweet in his own way, thus causing this romantic to swoon a bit from time to time. There is an edginess – a fierceness – to this man that drew me in from the very beginning, and, in the end, I found him to be perfect for Becca.

Miss Wylde has a particular writing style that I have come to enjoy very much. I like her no-nonsense sense of telling her stories while, at the same time, bringing a bit of dry humour into it. As a reader, I could really feel the passion she harbours towards her characters, and I always enjoy getting to know her secondary characters as well. In this particular story, Danielle and Blake – and their own drama – were very interesting and funny, but they do not take the focus away from Becca and Puck at all.

Overall, I truly enjoyed this MC romance. Yes, it was unpleasant at times. Yes, it could be difficult to read certain parts of it. But when all is said and done, it was also a fantastic love story, and I will absolutely read it again in the future. And when I feel this way about a book? That I want to come back to visit the characters and become lost in their story all over again? That is the best feeling ever! And the reason I call it a favourite book of mine. ❤

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Ignoring him, I settled back on my stool and surveyed the room. We sat in Becca’s section, and what I saw wasn’t making me happy. I knew she was a good waitress, but she’d just started here and it showed. Not only had she fucked up several orders, she didn’t quite seem to get the rhythm of the bar. That wasn’t my problem, though.

My problem was that despite these fuckups, nobody seemed to mind. I had a nasty suspicion this was due to her perky tits, friendly smile, and tight little ass that seriously just needed a bite taken right out of it.

She really, really needed to get a new job—every man in the place wanted her. Including me. Especially me. I hated them. All of them. I shifted uncomfortably, because just like every time I shared a room with her, my pants had gotten tight.

Torture. Becca was just so fucking fine on every level, and not just her looks. There was something about the way she carried herself . . . I couldn’t put my finger on it. Like she was dancing through life to some song nobody else could hear. Never met another woman like her—she wasn’t just sexy, she was a survivor and I admired that.

She’d grown up so much since the first time I’d met her. Bigger boobs, a nice fullness to her ass that was nowhere close to fat but would be perfect to hold tight while I fucked her. Her lips had plumped, too, and over the years she’d gained a sparkle in her eyes that turned her from pretty to 100 percent spectacular.

Not to mention how she’d tasted.

Nearly blew in my pants when I’d taken that mouth. Just the memory got me hard. Make that harder. Fucking basket case.

When I’d pulled up to find her sitting outside with Collins, a thousand murder scenarios ran through my mind. And yeah, I know I covered that already, but if anything ever deserved empha- sis, this was it. Collins needed to die. I didn’t care how nice he was. After that I’d throw Becca on the back of my bike and make a run for the hills . . .

Okay, so there were a few problems with the plan, the top one being she hated me. Or she should—I’d certainly given her cause. Boonie nudged me.

“Did I mention you’re pathetic? You want her, take her. Other- wise let it go because you’re an embarrassment to all men in general and to the Silver Bastards in particular.”

 

 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

joanna wylde

Joanna Wylde is a New York Times bestselling author and creator of the Reapers Motorcycle Club series. She currently lives in Idaho.

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Blog Your: “Come To Me Recklessly” (Closer To You #3) by A.L. Jackson – My Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

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From the New York Times bestselling author of Come to Me Softly comes another irresistible new adult romance in the Closer to You series.
His heart was turned off…
Until she turned him on…
Christopher Moore gave up on the idea of love years ago. Now, his life is an endless string of parties and an even longer string of girls. Enjoying the physical perks with none of the emotional mess, he’s convinced everyone that he’s satisfied—everyone but himself.

Samantha Schultz has moved on with her life. Finishing her student teaching and living with her boyfriend, she’s deluded herself into believing she’s content. But there is one boy she never forgot—her first love—and she keeps the memory of him locked up tight. She will never allow any man to break her the way Christopher did.

When Christopher’s sister and her family move into a new neighborhood, Christopher is completely unprepared to find Samantha living at the end of the street. Memories and unspent desires send them on collision course of sex, lies, and lust. But when guilt and fear send Samantha running, Christopher will have to fight for what has always been his.

“No one tells a story about “The One” with as much beauty and tragedy as AL Jackson does. You can’t read her words without having them sink deep inside of you and sticking around like a favorite memory.” ~ New York Times bestselling author Jay Crownover

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My Review

Complimentary copy provided by the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review

A.L. Jackson is without a doubt one of my all-time favourite authors. On every page, you can feel the love she has to her characters, but she is also kind of an evil author due to all the things she makes them suffer. But that is alright, you know: it simply means that her stories are realistic. Nothing comes easy in life, so why should we expect that in books?

Samantha and Christopher’s love story, however, is perhaps particularly cruel, and I sometimes found it difficult to keep reading this book. But I have to confess that I do love my angsty romance novels, and this one definitely fits into that category.

Samantha has settled in life. It is not easy going after one’s dreams, and she has, quite frankly, given up on many things. Is she content in life? On many levels, yes. But where is the passion? The zest for life she used to possess? Well, it disappeared when Christopher did – and I do not consider this reveal to be a spoiler, everyone: if you read the blurb, you will know that this is a book about second chances and how to overcome past hurts.

Christopher is equally merely drifting through life, leading one that consists of plenty of parties and hook-ups, but there is more to him than just a player, of course. But he hides his pain from the outside world, and he is very good at it. (Deceiving people from your real emotions is easy to do, after all.)

One day, Samantha runts into Ally, Christopher’s younger sister, and her husband, Jared, and this chance encounter sets a ball in motion that leads to Samantha and Christopher meeting again. Will they both have the courage to face up to their pasts? Or will they run away from the heartache that is bound to be reopened? Will they find it in their hearts to trust again?

You will have to read the book in order to get the answers to these questions, of course? 😉

One of the things that mesmerised me in CTMR is the fact that the story is told from dual POVs, AND the chapters change from past and present as well. Miss Jackson never made me feel lost or confused, and I want to applaud her for her clever writing. More importantly, though, it gave me the sense that I was there, inside the book, acting as a spectator, as if I was standing on the sidelines in every scene, to Samantha and Christopher’s romance, and that shows true talent: when an author manages to make me experience the story unfolding, thereby making me forget the real world for hours on end.

There were times I wanted to slap Christopher for his cruel words to Samantha – in turn, I wanted to shake some sense into her as well every now and then. But I also believe that their personalities fit the overall conflict very well, and I would not change them in any way. Also, Miss Jackson’s poetic and passionate storytelling skills made me forgive her characters and their sometimes unnecessary indecisiveness about certain matters.

I do really love this book. It is filled with angst, as per usual in this author’s stories, and there is plenty of pain and heartache – yet also hope and laughter. Not forgetting romance, of course, and steaminess.

Miss Jackson, thank you for giving us Samantha and Christopher tumultuous love story. I have been waiting for it for a long time, and my romantic heart applauds you for having written, yet again, a book where the characters are flawed and real and where you, on every page, feel all the emotions – the good and the bad – I am sure you want us, your readers, to experience. ❤

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By the waist, he lifted me, pinning me to the wall with the hard planes of his body. I could do nothing but wrap my legs around his hips. He rocked against me, the friction of his jeans igniting that fire, the threat of Ben fueling those flames. He buried his face in my neck as if he didn’t want to see, his bite aggressive as he turned to nip at my jaw, at my chin, moving to my lips. “Told you I wouldn’t let you go. Not ever again.”

His frenzied voice ached with regret.

“Never,” I told him, grinding myself on his erection that was pressed tight between my thighs. I felt desperate to erase the distance Ben had tried to wedge between us.

Christopher seemed even more fractured over it, unable to fathom the idea of what Ben had tried to force on me.

“I just got you back and he’s trying to take you away.”

“I’m here…I’m here.”

“Here,” he said as if a demand, tearing at my clothes, overwrought as he rushed to palm every inch of exposed skin. My shoulders were pressed to the wall, my chest heaving with harsh breaths. He pushed up my shirt and dragged off the cups of my bra. My breasts felt heavy and full as he looked on them with a stuttered groan. He splayed his hands across my back, dragging me forward, and his mouth was there, drawing my nipple into his hot mouth, sucking hard before he turned to the other.

I bucked, my hands fists in his hair.

He wrapped an arm low around my waist, his body leaving mine for a fraction of a second, and without setting me down, he dragged my shorts and panties from my legs. Fumbling, he pushed his jeans and underwear down around his thighs.

Without warning, he thrust into me.

I cried out from the perfect invasion.

No condom.

No heed.

Christopher took me completely.

Recklessly.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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A.L. Jackson is the New York Times bestselling author of Take This Regret and Lost to You, as well as other contemporary romance titles, including Pulled, When We Collide, If Forever Comes, Come to Me Quietly, and Come to Me Softly.
She first found a love for writing during her days as a young mother and college student. She filled the journals she carried with short stories and poems used as an emotional outlet for the difficulties and joys she found in day-to-day life.
Years later, she shared a short story she’d been working on with her two closest friends and, with their encouragement; this story became her first full length novel. A.L. now spends her days writing in Southern Arizona where she lives with her husband and three children.

To stay up to date with important news on A.L. Jackson, including new releases, sales, and exclusive specials and excerpts, text “jackson” to 96000 to subscribe!
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Blog Tour: “Love M.D.” by Rebecca Rohman – My Review, Excerpt, Playlist & Giveaway

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Title: Love M.D.

Author: Rebecca Rohman

Genre: Adult Contemporary Romance with Elements of Suspense

Release Date: Tuesday, February 24, 2015

SYNOPSIS

As an accomplished interior designer in San Francisco’s Bay Area, Zoe Jenkins is used to transforming empty spaces into masterpieces. She leaves little square footage in her personal life for anything outside of her thriving business and a renewed relationship with her twin brother. After a decade spent ripped apart by circumstance and an entire ocean’s distance she depends on no one but him. Until a sexy surgeon walks into her life.

Although Zoe can’t deny her attraction to the charming and benevolent Morgan Drake, he’s on her mental list of everything she should avoid. Past experience taught Zoe that dating clients compromises business. Add a not-yet-dissolved marriage to the mix and Doctor Hottie is definitely Doctor Off-limits.

Dr. Morgan Drake is surprised at the undeniable chemistry he feels when he’s in the same room as Zoe. The strikingly beautiful and introverted designer he hired to fill his new-start, new-city home makes it abundantly clear there will never be anything between them. But twelve years of medical school breeds persistence. He sets out to pursue the pants off Zoe Jenkins and show her what her empty spaces are missing.

But intense passion and amazing sex have a way of masking secrets—secrets that unravel a dangerous web of drugs, fraud and corruption that turn Zoe’s empty, quiet spaces into a world where nothing is as it seems. With her life on the line, the good doctor responsible for her fiercest betrayal might just be the only one worthy of her finest interior masterpiece—this time, of her heart.

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MY REVIEW

Complimentary copy provided by the author in exchange for an honest review

I have been a fan of Rebecca Rohman’s ever since I read “Love, Lies & The D.A.” last year, thus making me very eager to get my hands on her latest book, “Love, M.D.”. So when it became available, you can imagine how happy that made me feel.

Seeing as this is a romantic suspense novel, I can only imagine the care with which the author has to take when writing it: the plot must be believable, yet the author has to take great care in not revealing what it is until the very end (or close to the end, anyway). I have mentioned this is previous reviews I have written, but I will do so again: I really do believe that this is one of the hardest genres to write, however fascinating it must be at the same time.

And because of this novel being a romantic suspense, this review will not be as long as my others because I fear that I will end up revealing too much; and that would be a great disservice to you, and to the author, of course.

Zoe Jenkins is a very successful businesswoman who does not let much get in the way of her success. The relationship with her twin brother, Zach, is one that is truly strong, and I loved the particular banter only siblings know how to make while in each other’s company – the author truly manages to convey the tight bond and love they share for one another in a fun and realistic way. But back to Zoe: early on in the book, I came to like her a great deal, actually, despite her stubborn streak as far as the delectable Doc Morgan Drake goes. 😉 Her reluctance to allow people to see beneath her skin is understandable, given her background and past heartaches, and I enjoyed seeing how she, bit by bit, opened up for the possibility of a different future. All in all, she became a character that I grew to love.

As for the delicious doctor, Morgan: he is passionate about his work – which, by the way, really is admirable – and the many facets to his personality were very intriguing, always making me eager to learn more about him. Just like Zoe, he can be stubborn, and the approach he takes as to making her see that he is one of the good guys made my romantic heart go all soft. He is quite the alpha in the ways that count – 😉 – but his vulnerabilities also shine through in Miss Rohman’s words. This is a man who has scars, just like Zoe, but he is less reluctant to let go of the past than she is, and I do like that he is not afraid to admit that he wants to explore things with her. Yes, he make mistakes, but that only makes him human in my eyes.

These two characters are far from perfect – but when do we want characters to seem that way? No, we have two people who both have to learn to trust, to let go of their pasts completely in order to find happiness. True, their road is far from smooth, but I dare say that is never the case in the real world, either, and I, for one, love stories when the author manages to make me believe that they could happen in the real world. I am very happy to say that Miss Rohman made me believe completely in this one.

The plot…well, I will not say that much about it. It made me cry. It made me angry. It made me rather scared, too. There are many twists and turns that I never saw coming, and I loved it!

To sum up my review: if you are looking for your next romantic suspense, I would definitely recommend that you choose this one. Do not be alarmed about the length of this book – honestly, that never bothers me – because the pace and flow of the story is rather fast, but not too hasty, in my opinion. There is plenty of romance and steamy scenes that, I believe, will make you swoon, and, lastly, there is a cast of very colourful and interesting secondary characters which only compliment the story without taking the focus away from Zoë and Morgan.

Miss Rohman, this was an amazing read for me! I truly enjoyed it, and it is definitely one of the best books I have read this year. ❤

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Love M.D. by Rebecca Rohman Sexy 8

EXCERPT

The next morning, I wake to an empty bed. I slip on some panties and one of Morgan’s shirts and head downstairs in search of him. Peaches and Pixie bask in the sun by the pool, watching him as he swims.

He’s already made a pot of coffee, so I pour myself a cup and sit outside on one of the Adirondack chairs facing the pool. My crew comes to greet me, but Morgan is engrossed in his swimming and does not appear to notice me. I suspect this might be part of his daily routine—his body contours tell me that. He looks up, and a broad smile stretches across his face when he sees me. His hair lies all back as he propels his body out of the water by his palms.

“Good Morning,” I say.

“Good morning to you, too.” He kisses me and wraps a nearby towel around his hips. “Hungry? I was going to make you some breakfast.”

“Maybe a little,” I respond.

“Good, because I prepared everything already,” he says, stretching out his hands to help me up. “I just need to fix the eggs.”

In the kitchen, as he scrambles eggs on the stovetop, I circle my arms around his almost naked body from behind.

He switches off the stove and turns to face me. “Did you sleep well?”

“A little. It was more than the last few weeks, so I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”

He raises my body and places me on the island, pecking me softly on the lips.

“I could prescribe something to help you get some rest, or I can recommend something herbal. You hardly sleep anymore.”

“I know. Maybe in a few days if things don’t improve.”

“Let’s go on a trip somewhere. It’ll take your mind off things.”

“We’ll see. Jada invited us to go on a getaway with their family. I don’t know the specifics yet, but I think it might be a good idea.”

“Let me know as soon as you have the details so I can make sure my shifts are covered. It’s easier to change things around at the clinic. I want to see you smile again.”

He kisses me softly on my neck and my lips, and I’m surprised when I feel the need for more than just his sweet caress. Circling him in my arms, I slowly part my lips, and feel his tongue gently graze mine. I pull him closer by the towel that surrounds his hips and slip my hands over his groin.

“I miss you,” I whisper.

“I miss you too, baby.”

I’ve woken him and as I massage his arousal, I take pleasure at the feel of his hands roaming over my body. He lifts his shirt over my head before slipping his tongue into my mouth. I pull the towel away and push his trunks down as far as I can stretch. With my foot, I shove them further until they drop to the floor. He kicks them away while I glide my hands over his rock-hard erection.

“How do you want it?” he asks.

“Go down on me,” I reply, deepening our kiss. “Then I want you to screw me from behind.”

He places one of my legs on the countertop and slips the fabric of my thong to the side. I welcome the feel of his fingers slipping between my folds as he circles them above and inside me.

As he devours my lips, I relish the feel of his firm body against my palms. He lowers his head, planting soft kisses on my neck, then he circles my breasts. Moments later, he pulls my panties away.

He lowers his head and teases me with kisses circling my core. With his tongue, he starts a pleasurable onslaught of licking and sucking my clit, intermittently and forcefully moving his fingers over me. The heat rises between my thighs but I pull away, reserving my release.

“Oh God, babe. I need you inside me.”

He pulls me off the counter and turns me around so my back is to his front. He places one of my thighs on the surface, pinning it in place with his arm then he slowly enters me from behind. Slowly, slowly moving in and out of me.

“Zoë, you feel incredible,” he whispers, nibbling my ear. With his fingers, he begins an endless assault on my front.

“Oh Jesus, Morgan…harder,” I cry as my body becomes submerged in pure sexual pleasure.

Bending me over the counter, he gives me what I crave, what I so desperately desire.

“Oh yes, Morgan.” My knees go weak. I know I’m close to losing all control.

“No way, not yet,” he says, slipping out of me. Holding my hand, he walks me to the living room sofa. He sits, centering his body in the middle, leaning back. I’m about to straddle him when he stops me.

“Come here, baby. I want to taste you all over again.”

He raises my leg above his shoulder, and places it on the back of the couch. He sits up, and with two fingers, repeatedly penetrates me and unleashes his tongue over me again.

Tingling sensations exude through my thighs. “Oh God, yes, babe.” I tighten my grip on his hair, basking in the pleasure that he is so eager to give me.

Finally, he relents, and I lower my body over his erection. I move slowly and sensually over his arousal, grinding my hips into his. He sits up and clasps his hands in mine as I rotate my body over his. Sounds of raw sex fills the room—the continuous sounds of his reentry, the sexual cries that escape my lips, his labored breathing and groans as I bury him inside me.

“Yes, Zoë, yes,” he says, holding me by my hips, slamming me firmly above him and taking over my lips once more. Sitting back, I repeatedly pound my hips into his, while circling my core with my fingers.

“Oh fuck, Zoë,” he shouts then pulls me close in his arms, boring inside me. I feel him continuously spasm, and as I rapidly continue to circle my pleats, I join him in his prolonged release.

I lay with my head against his chest, breathing heavily. We relax while he folds me in his arms and kisses me tenderly on my lips. I can’t help but get distracted and erupt in laughter when Peaches sits watching me, slowly twisting her head as if she’s utterly confused.

“What’s so funny?”

“We have an audience,” I laugh. Now Pixie has joined her, too.

He sits up, “What? They never saw you have sex before?”

“No, they’re virgins. We’re corrupting my poor animals.”

“That must have been quite the show.”

I coil on top of him, and it is while I’m there that I realize today, for the first time in almost three weeks, I laughed.

“I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”

I kiss him again. I don’t want to think about why I’ve not been able to laugh.

Love M.D. by Rebecca Rohman Sexy 5

LOVE M.D. SOUNDTRACK

  1. OneRepublic, Counting Stars
  2. Lenny Kravitz, Fly Away
  3. Au Clair de la Lune
  4. Sarah McLachlan, Angel
  5. Chris Isaacs, Wicked Game
  6. Claude Debussys, Clair de Lune
  7. Jason Mraz, I Won’t Give Up
  8. Ella Fitzgerald, What are you doing this New Year’s Eve
  9. Regina Spektor, My Dear Acquaintance (A Happy New Year)

LMD-&-LLATDA-10

BUY LINKS

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rebecca Roman Emblem White High ResolutionRebecca Rohman, is a wife and designer currently living in the Northeastern United States. She was a former Sales Manager for a tourist magazine, and for many years prior, she first did Marketing for a jewelry company, and later a fine wine distributor.

About fifteen years ago, she started writing her first romance novel, Uncorked just to purely entertain herself. It was not until early in 2012 when she decided to complete it, and share it with the world. The story was published in February of 2013. Her second novel Love, Lies & The D.A. was released in February, 2014. Love M.D. is her third novel.

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Blog Tour: “Deep” (Stage Dive #4) by Kylie Scott – My Review, Excerpt & Giveaway

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Deep Cover

Title: “Deep” (Stage Dive #4)

Author: Kylie Scott

Genre: Nev Adult / Contemporary Romance

Release Date: 31st March, 2015

SYNOPSIS

Positive. With two little lines on a pregnancy test, everything in Lizzy Rollins’ ordinary life is about to change forever. And all because of one big mistake in Vegas with Ben Nicholson, the irresistibly sexy bass player for Stage Dive. So what if Ben’s the only man she’s ever met who can make her feel completely safe, cherished, and out of control with desire at the same time? Lizzy knows the gorgeous rock star isn’t looking for anything more permanent than a good time, no matter how much she wishes differently.

Ben knows Lizzy is off limits. Completely and utterly. She’s his best friend’s little sister now, and no matter how hot the chemistry is between them, no matter how sweet and sexy she is, he’s not going to go there. But when Ben is forced to keep the one girl he’s always had a weakness for out of trouble in Sin City, he quickly learns that what happens in Vegas, doesn’t always stay there. Now he and Lizzie are connected in the deepest way possible…but will it lead to a connection of the Heart?

ADD TO GOODREADS

My Review

Complimentary copy provided by the publisher through Netgalley in exchange for an honest review

The Stage Dive Series by Kylie Scott has been one of my favourite series from the very beginning, and I have been eagerly anticipating the final book, “Deep”, ever since I learned it would focus on Ben, the sexy bass player, and Lizzy, the younger sister to Anne.

The thing most college students dread happens to Lizzy, and I enjoyed the way Miss Scott managed to convey all the different and conflicting emotions Lizzsy goes through once she learns that she is pregnant. I have to confess that I was a bit sceptical at first, but the more I read this book, the more I came to admire Lizzy for the way she chooses to handle her situation. Furthermore, she is a very witty and strong character who had me chuckling quite a bit, and I really appreciate that fact in the books I read. It was easy to understand why she fell for Ben, and even more so to cheer her on whenever she seemed confused and sad about certain aspects of his character.

Ben is the typical rock star: he revels in his freedom, and in the fact that he can have whatever his heart desires because of his stardom. Having grown up with not much money, it is not difficult to understand why he does things a certain way. He was, however, also a bit of a douche towards Lizzy, but, again, his reasons were valid – at least up to a certain point. Also, the way he reacts when he hears about the “bun in the oven” is not that farfetched: who would not freak out just a little bit when learning about an unplanned pregnancy?

These two characters share a very evident attraction towards one another, but I have to say that the way they become friends first is one of my absolute favourite parts of this story. Ben and Lizzy are perhaps not so different from one another – not deep down, anyway – and I really hoped that things between them would be resolved in a way that it would not ruin the relations they have with the rest of the Stage Dive band members and their girlfriends.

Miss Scott has, as always, a very compelling and engaging way of telling her stories. Her writing always pulls me in from the very beginning, and it was no different with this book. I really love how she is able to incorporate wit and banter even when certain scenes may not exactly call for it, and I also admire her for not taking the easiest route all the time.

The reasons that “Deep” is not given my highest rating is the fact that I sometimes failed to connect completely with Ben; in many ways, I had trouble understanding some of his actions, and I would have loved to have had a few chapters written from his point of view. The other reason is that the ending was a bit rushed to me, but, as usual, please remember that these issues are subjective – thus, mine alone – and I daresay that many of you will disagree with me on these two points. But I have always given you my honest opinions, and it would be wrong of me to ‘change my ways’, if you will, if I did not continue to do so.

I feel a bit sad that this series has come to an end, because it has provided me with many laughs, tears, and swoon-worthy moments; “Deep” is definitely steamy, Lizzy is a truly interesting character, and Ben is incredibly sexy…I firmly believe that you will enjoy this last instalment to this series, and if you have not read any of Miss Scott’s books before, I strongly urge you to read these. I guarantee that they will make your romantic heart go all aflutter.

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Enjoy the excerpt!

His laughter, it didn’t really sound the smallest bit amused. “Christ. You’re done here.”

“Ah, no. I’m actually not. Now see, this is where we have a problem.” I folded my arms. Then unfolded them because like fuck I’d look defensive. He was the one in the wrong, not me. “You’re not prepared to take me, or my feelings, seriously. What you want is to hide away in Mr. Too Cool for Commitment land and just play with my affections when it suits you. Okay, I’ve accepted that. But none of that means it’s okay for you to come in here and act like you’re the boss of me. None of it.”

“That so?” he asked, leaning down so that we were almost nose to nose.

“That’s so, baby.” I play-punched him in the shoulder, which it should be noted, I barely came up to. Okay, so maybe the alcohol on a mostly empty stomach had made me slightly/lots braver/sillier. “So why don’t you take your little caveman jealous tantrum bullshit somewhere else. See, I do this funny thing I like to refer to as whatever the fuck I want. Understand?”

He just stared.

“And as pretty as you are with your beard and your muscles, you are too damn tricky and . . . complicated and shit for me.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are. Are you finally seeing my point here?”

“You bet.”

“Excellent. So take your hotness elsewhere, kind sir. I want no part of it!” Huh. I had so told him. Drunken bravado was the best.

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deep it's live

PURCHASE LINKS

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Stage Dive Series Reading Order

“Lick” (Book One)

Amazon US

Amazon UK

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Kobo

iBooks

“Play” (Book Two)

Amazon US

Amazon UK

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Kobo

iBooks

“Lead” (Book Three)

Amazon US

Amazon UK

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Kobo

iBooks

“Deep” (Book Four)

Amazon US

Amazon UK

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Kobo

iBooks

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

kylie scott

Kylie is a long time fan of erotic love stories and B-grade horror films. She demands a happy ending and if blood and carnage occur along the way then all the better. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and one delightful husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.

Kylie is represented by Amy Tannenbaum at the Jane Rotrosen Agency, New York.

Stalk Kylie Scott: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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“There You Stand” (Between Breaths #5) by Christina Lee – My Review

There You Stand Cover

Title: “There You Stand” (Between Breaths #5)

Author: Christina Lee

Genre: New Adult / M/M Romance

Release Date: 21st April, 2015.

Publisher: Penguin/InterMix

SYNOPSIS

From the author of All of You and Before You Break comes a new Between Breaths male/male standalone romance about the silent, inked up skateboarder and the tattoo artist who unravels him piece by piece…

Tattoo artist Cory Easton has worked long enough at Raw Ink to know, just by looking at a dude, what his body art reveals, what makes him tick, what even makes him scared. Until he meets the quiet and remote Jude York—so unreadable, so unreachable, and so unlike anyone else, he can’t help but arouse Cory’s curiosity.

As captivating and complex as his ink, Jude is a mystery—and Cory’s falling fast and hard under his spell. Against his better judgment to steer clear.

The rumors of Jude’s past overshadow him—whispers of prison and an unmentionable secret that’s kept him in the protective shadows of a local motorcycle club. As Cory probes deeper, he wonders how much he really wants to know. Especially since Jude has awakened something inside him that has been buried too long—and has him feeling completely alive for the first time in forever…

ADD TO GOODREADS

My Review

Complimentary copy received by the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review

I have not really ventured into m/m romance until now, but not for the lack of wanting to. I am a firm believer of ‘love is love’, no matter your gender or race, so please do not misunderstand me. But you know what it is like to remain in your comfort zone instead of trying new things – or, in this case, genres – and taking a leap of faith? Well, most people – including me – are creatures of habit, thus making it difficult to expand our horizon from time to time. This, of course, also manifests itself in the books we choose to read.

But I am thrilled and actually very excited about the fact that I will now be picking up more m/m romance novels because of “There You Stand” by Christina Lee.

Cory and Jude are both young men marked by their pasts, and while their issues stem from different tragic events, the question is if they really are that different from each other? Obviously, I will not ruin the plot for you – that would be cruel – but what I do feel is acceptable to say is that these two men, as well as their connection, are probably some of the most beautiful souls I have come across in a long time.

I adored getting to know Cory, the sexy tattoo artist, and the way he yearns for Jude, the British and secretive skateboarder, made me fall a little bit in love with him myself. I became invested in their story from the very first page, and I love when that happens! And Jude…oh, Jude: what a truly sweet, sensitive man. I wanted to reach into my Kindle, haul him out of it, and hug him so hard! I realise that these are fictional characters, of course, but while reading their story, they felt incredibly real to me.

The mystery surrounding Jude had me very intrigued, and there was never a moment when I felt that the story was unnecessarily drawn out – to put it bluntly: never was there a time when I got bored. Quite the contrary, in fact, because I have been thinking about this book a lot ever since I read The End. Yes, a book hangover set it, and it has not really left me even though it has been weeks since I finished it.

I have been a fan of Miss Lee’s for a while now, and I adore her storytelling skills; she writes with passion, heart, and compassion, and it is always clear to feel all the emotions her characters go through. She also writes some of the most sensual and steamy sex scenes I have ever come across, and I would be lying if I said that is not part of the reason why I pick up her books. 😉 Ultimately, though, the love stories she writes are why I call her one of my all-time favourite  authors, and I want to applaud her for stepping out of her own comfort zone: writing a m/m romance novel and make it realistic. That, to me, is talent.

To sum up my review: if you, like me, are new to m/m romance, I would say that this book is a great starting point. The characters are genuine, the pace of the story is perfect, and the hotness factor is off the charts! The secondary characters compliment the main story as well, there are some pretty laugh-out-loud moments involving a specific dog, and it just gives you that feel-good vibe we all want to experience when reading romance novels.

So why not take a leap of faith and try something new?

Miss Lee: thank you for a fantastic reading experience! I truly love this book, and I just hope it will be available in print someday so that I can put it on my favourite books shelf. ❤

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PREORDER LINKS

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

(from Goodreads Author Profile)

Mother, wife, reader, dreamer. Christina lives in the Midwest with her husband and son–her two favorite guys.  She’s addicted to lip gloss and salted caramel everything. She believes in true love and kissing, so writing romance novels has become a dream job.  Author of the Between Breaths series from Penguin. ALL OF YOU, BEFORE YOU BREAK and WHISPER TO ME available now, PROMISE ME THIS on October 7th, 2014.  Also Adult contemporary romance TWO OF HEARTS coming from Peguin/NAL on May 5th 2015.

SOCIAL LINKS

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Excerpt Reveal: “Silver Bastard” (Silver Valley #1) by Joanna Wylde

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silver bastard cover

SYNOPSIS

First in the new Silver Valley series from the New York Times bestselling author of the Reapers Motorcycle Club Novels

Fourteen months. For fourteen months, Puck Redhouse sat in a cell and kept his mouth shut, protecting the Silver Bastards MC from their enemies. Then he was free and it was time for his reward–full membership in the club, along with a party to celebrate. That’s when he saw Becca Jones for the first time and set everything in motion. Before the night ended he’d violated his parole and stolen her away from everything she knew.

Five years. It was five years ago that Puck destroyed Becca and saved her all in one night. She’s been terrified of him ever since, but she’s even more terrified of the monsters he still protects her from… But Becca refuses to let fear control her. She’s living her life and moving forward, until she gets a phone call from the past she can’t ignore. She has to go back, and there’s only one man she can trust to go with her–the ex-con biker who rescued her once before.

Puck will help her again, but this time it’ll be on his terms. No more lies, no more tears, and no more holding back what he really wants…

ADD TO GOODREADS

Excerpt from Silver Bastard

By Joanna Wylde

http://www.joannawylde.com

Prologue

California

Five years ago

Puck

Motherfucker that burned.

The shot was a double, and the fact that it’d come cradled between two beautiful, giant tits attached to a stripper with endless legs and a tight ass didn’t hurt one goddamned bit. Tequila hit my stomach, the alcohol shocking my system, and shit finally got real.

Freedom.

Fourteen months since the last time I’d had a decent drink—all but forgotten what it felt like, too. That sweet, harsh pain that comes from losing the surface layer of skin all the way down your throat? Gorgeous. Never felt better in my life, and that’s a fact. Helped that the queen of body shots had sucked me off right after we’d pulled up to the party.

Spent the last year trying to decide what I’d do first when I finally got out. Kept going back and forth between getting laid and getting drunk, but God apparently has a soft spot for assholes because we’d found one hell of a good compromise.

I’d been free nearly four hours now. Still felt like a dream. The California Department of Corrections took its own sweet time with everything, up to and including processing a man out. I’d spent half the wait wondering if the cockwads would change their minds or if the club lawyer had forgotten something. Figured they’d find some way to fuck with my head.

FBI, state cops, even Homeland Security—they all wanted a piece of my club, the Silver Bastards MC, and not a week went by inside that they didn’t try to cut it out of my hide. Guess they figured a prospect made an easy target.

Not fucking likely.

My old man died for the Bastards. If I turned, he’d haunt my ass the rest of my life because that shit does not stand in my family. I’d been born to wear a Bastard cut. And tonight? For the first time I finally had the right to show those colors off.

A hand slapped my shoulder, then a burly man caught me up in a hug so tight it hurt. My fucking ribs creaked.

“That patch feel right on your back, brother?” asked Boonie. He was the president of the Silver Bastards in Callup, Idaho, and I’d heard him call me a hell of a lot of things—but never brother. Felt good. Damned good. Until an hour ago, I’d been a prospect and I’d never gotten any special treatment because of my old man.

That’s how I wanted it.

“Best night of my life,” I admitted. He pulled back, and his face grew serious.

“Proud of you,” he said. “You did what you had to. Protected the club, took care of business. Painter told us how things were inside, how you took his back. You earned this, earned it with your life and your blood. I know you won’t shame this patch, Puck.”

“I won’t,” I replied, his words almost too much. Boonie grinned suddenly, then grabbed my arm and turned me toward the bar again.

“Drink up,” he told me. “Then find yourself some pretty little thing to play with, because tomorrow we’re ridin’ home. Your bike’s in good shape—took care of it for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Another shot, baby?” the stripper asked. She rolled onto her side, reaching out to catch my neck with her hand, pulling me in for a kiss. That brought me a little too close to her face. She was sweaty, and her mascara had started running. Didn’t smell that great, either.

“More shots,” I said, pulling away. I’d appreciated the blow job, no question. But she wasn’t exactly the fantasy I’d been jacking off to the last year and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t settle once I got out. I wanted someone fresh—someone clean and soft and sweet enough to eat. I’d play with her for a while before letting myself go, punching through all that softness until she screamed and begged for mercy.

Mouth, cunt, ass.

That’d been what got me through those long nights wondering why the fuck I’d let myself get caught.

Ignoring the bitch on the bar, I reached across and grabbed the bottle of tequila, chugging nearly a third of it down. Christ, there went the rest of my throat. Then I turned to look out across room. Four of my new Silver Bastard brothers had come down from Callup—Boonie, Miner, Deep, and Demon. Joining them were four Reapers and two Reaper prospects. They were here to welcome Painter, who’d gone down with me on a weapons charge. This sucked, but such is life. We’d been fighting for our clubs, so no regrets there. Through a combination of luck and well-placed payoffs, we’d managed to stick together for the duration of our time served. The clubs provided the funds and the attorneys—to protect them, we matched that investment with our silence.

Painter caught my eye from across the room, grinning. After so much time together I could almost read his thoughts. I gave him a nod, one of those chin jerks that speaks volumes.

Congrats to you, too, asshole.

“You havin’ fun?” a man asked. I looked down to find a painfully skinny, greasy little man missing half his teeth standing next to me. Tweaker called Teeny. His face was just a little too eager, his eyes a little too bright. Unfortunately, Teeny was our host for the night so I had to be nice to him. We were out in the middle of nowhere, tucked back in a canyon where this douche had somehow acquired a house. The Longnecks MC—one of our “allies,” although their loyalty was questionable—had a warehouse set up in a shop right next to this guy’s house.

This Teeny asshole wasn’t even part of the club . . . Apparently his brother Bax was patched in, though, so they used him as a pit stop. Something didn’t quite add up about the situation, but fuck if I cared. In the morning I’d be riding for home. With luck my future association with the state of California in general and Teeny in particular would be extremely limited.

“See anything you like?” he asked. “That’s my old lady, there. “You want her? She’s real good, welcome you home right.”

I shrugged, glancing over toward his woman. She was probably in her midthirties, I decided. Pretty enough, but she had a hard, tired look around her eyes that didn’t appeal. Not only that, she was wiry and skinny as fuck. Probably smoking meth to block out the fact that she had to live with this dickwad.

“No, she’s great but not my type,” I said, casually taking another drink of tequila. Wasn’t burning so much now, which in retrospect should’ve been a sign to slow down. Maybe things would’ve turned out different.

Shitty thing about time—only runs the one direction.

“What’s your type?” he asked. I shrugged. The day I needed some tweaker to find me pussy, I’d cut off my own cock and get it over with. Swallowing another drink, I glanced across the room, pointedly ignoring him.

That’s when I saw her.

Now, I fuckin’ hate clichés, and shit like this only happens in movies . . . but I swear to fuck, I think I fell for her in that instant. She was small, with long brown hair in one of those knot things on top of her head. Not dressed to show off her figure, either. I could still see she had a tiny waist, though, along with generous tits and the kind of round, healthy curves you just know will cradle your hips perfectly when you’re pounding her.

I had to have her.

Like, needed her. Now.

“Good call,” Teeny said. I ignored him, focusing on the angel I had every intention of owning just as soon as I talked her out of her pants. God, she was pretty. Kind of out of place, too. Not flirting with anyone, and not a ton of makeup. Just wandering around, picking up empties, and avoiding conversation. Fascinating.

“I’ll introduce you.”

Teeny walked across the room toward my Dream Fuck. I started after him, because I didn’t want the asshole speaking on my behalf. Then Boonie caught my arm.

“Heads‑up,” he said, his voice pitched low, difficult to hear through the noise of the party. “We think somethin’s going on with that guy. Don’t be afraid to talk him up, okay? Can always use good information.”

I nodded, wondering why the fuck Teeny had to pick me to buddy up with. Tonight was for relaxing, enjoying myself. Just looking at him made me feel dirty, and considering some of the shit I’ve pulled in my life, that’s an accomplishment. Another hand slapped my back, then Painter caught me by the neck, squeezing me as he laughed.

“Never ends,” he said. “Boonie cock-blocking you?”

I punched him in the gut—not hard. Just enough to make him back off.

“No, right now you have that honor,” I muttered, glaring at him. “Christ, we just spent a year together in a fuckin’ cell. Think we’ve covered everything, so let me get laid? Please?”

He answered by punching me back, and I reeled . . . damn, hadn’t realized how drunk I’d gotten. Still, I wasn’t about to go down easy. I swayed, watching him as our brothers started crowding around us. The wild gleam in his eyes—a mixture of almost manic happiness and pent‑up energy—matched my own.

“Take it outside,” Boonie said. “I got fifty on Puck.”

“Hundred on Painter,” Picnic Hayes, the Reapers’ president, answered and then we were bundled outside for the fight.

I couldn’t wait.

We’d sparred before, of course. Nothing but time to kill in the pen, so I knew Painter’s moves like they were my own— and he knew mine, too. We were a good match, could go either way. Neither of us had much in the way of formal training but we’d both picked up a fair amount along the way. Hell, I’d gotten caught in my first bar fight when I was fourteen years old, seeing as my pop wasn’t exactly Father of the Year material. Still loved the old bastard, though.

The sun was fading as we stepped outside, painting the sky in pinks and oranges shot through with smudged clouds. I paused a moment, struck by the incredible beauty all around me, and smiled, breathing deep. So fucking good to be outside again. Nobody knows what it’s like, trapped in a cell like an animal. Nobody but the guys who’ve heard the sound of those gates closing behind them.

Fortunately for me, I wasn’t exactly the first Silver Bastard to do time for the club, which meant my brothers got me. They knew what this was like.

“Okay, we got a circle here,” Pic was saying. I blinked, starting to process the fact that maybe boxing with Painter while I was drunk might not be such a hot idea. Of course, he was drunk, too, and the booze would numb the pain . . . “Fight goes until one of you is down or taps out. Time to make your bets, brothers.”

Boonie caught my arm, pulling me to the side and looking into my face.

“You ready?” he asked. I nodded sharply, because drunk or not, I wasn’t going to pussy out in front of my president on the same day I got my colors. I glanced across the dusty circle to see Painter, who gave me a friendly sneer. Laughing, I flipped him off, then shook my arms out, loosening up.

That’s when I saw her again. Off to the side, standing next to Teeny, who was talking rapidly and pointing to me. I frowned, because I really didn’t need or want that asshole on my side. Knowing my luck, the fucker would send her running. I nudged my brother, Deep, who was standing next to me.

“See that girl?” I asked, jerking my chin toward her. “Make sure Teeny doesn’t scare her off, okay?”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thanks.”

Painter and I stepped into the circle together, and I felt the thrill of adrenaline cut through the haze of alcohol. My blood started pumping, pounding through me until I could all but taste it. Christ, but I loved to fight. Always seemed to clear my head, and I’d gotten good enough over the years that I won more than I lost. Inside, those skills had saved our asses, and I’d picked up my fair share of pointers from the very man I found myself facing.

Painter moved first, coming in with an experimental jab toward my stomach. This wasn’t a real attack, just him testing my limits. I’d had a lot to drink, which would slow my reflexes. So had he. That changed the baseline, something we both needed to feel out.

“Can’t believe they gave you a top rocker,” he said, taunting me.

I grinned.

“Try harder, old man. I know you too well.”

Painter laughed, then came at me again, suddenly. He punched me square in the stomach and I doubled over. Shit. I fell back and almost stumbled out of the ring, catching myself at the last minute. I heard the shouts of my brothers urging me on.

Oh, hell no.

No fucking way I’d lose a fight tonight. Painter could fuck right off, because he’d had his colors for years. This was my night. I owned this bitch and he’d just have to suck it up and deal.

Still staggering, I lurched forward toward him like I was out of control. Then I attacked, and this time I caught him. One hit, two. Three. Right in the gut. Painter gasped and I moved in for the kill.

Somehow he pulled himself together, catching me across the chin. My entire head rattled as I staggered to the side. I felt blood in my mouth, then found a loose tooth with my tongue.

Asshole.

I thought of the pretty girl I’d just seen, which pissed me off. The anger was good. Cleared my head. Didn’t matter if I won or not, she wouldn’t want to suck face with someone bleeding like a stuck pig. This wasn’t a fight—it was a cock-block.

Time to end it.

Painter waited for me, swaying. I’d gotten him pretty good.

He was definitely favoring his left hand, which was great news because he was left-handed. Lucky me. I was ambidextrous.

I launched myself at him, turning that to my advantage.

He tried to block me but his arm was weak. I landed a blow to his gut followed by one that caught the side of his cheek. Pain seared through my hand, parting the fog of alcohol.

“Dick,” he managed to gasp as I danced back, flexing my fingers. That last one had been bad—if I’d been any more off-center, I’d have a fist full of broken bones.

“You got him,” Boonie shouted. I stretched my hand again. Did I want to risk another head blow? I hadn’t even wrapped my knuckles. . .

Fuck it.

I caught his chin again and Painter went down, falling hard. Blood dribbled from his nose and for long seconds I wondered if I’d actually hurt him for real.

Then he managed to roll onto his stomach, tapping out and flipping me off, all in one gesture.

“Congrats on getting your colors, Puck,” he groaned. “I’ll give you this one. Enjoy it while you can because next time I’m killing you.”

I staggered back, grinning and raising my hands once I realized he wasn’t seriously hurt. It’d been a lucky shot and we both knew it—we were well matched, could’ve gone either way. As I heard my brothers shouting in victory I didn’t care. This was my night. I had my freedom and my patch.

Still needed that girl, though.

I looked around and spotted her standing next to Deep. Teeny stood on the other side of him, looking all sorry for himself. She was hugging herself with both arms, obviously nervous, and I felt my smile fade. Shit. I hadn’t wanted her scared. I shook my head, wishing things weren’t moving so fast. Waving off the men crowding around me, I headed toward her, half expecting her to run off.

She didn’t, though.

As I came to a stop in front of her, she gave me a wavering smile, then spoke. “Can I help you find another drink?”

“Fuck yeah.”

I took her arm and pulled her into my side, exchanging a satisfied look with Deep.

“Let me know if you need anything!” Teeny yelled after us, and

I felt the girl shudder.

“Christ, but he’s a nasty little shit, isn’t he?” I asked her conversationally, and she gave a startled snort of laughter. I liked the sound. Sweet and sort of innocent. Made my dick happy, that was for sure. Still, I didn’t want to fuck things up and push her too hard, because the skittish vibes were intense.

“Yeah, he is,” she agreed quietly, and I leaned down to kiss the top of her head. She smelled good—fresh and clean, just like I’d been fantasizing all those months inside. Fresh and clean and perfect.

I wondered what she’d taste like.

“They’re lighting a fire out back,” she told me, her voice soft. “By the kegs. Maybe we should go over there?”

Hmmm . . . I could work with that.

“Okay.”

She tried to pull away from me then, but I caught her hand playfully, tugging her back toward me.

“I can’t get you a beer if you don’t let me go,” she pointed out.

Fuck. She was right. Still, I wasn’t about to let her get away that easy—knowing my luck, Painter’d swoop in and take her, just to fuck with my head. If anyone could pull it off, he could. Fucker was pretty in his own weird way—even I could see it. I couldn’t compete, not with the nasty scar on my face.

I’d just have to keep a close eye on her, I decided. Protect what was mine.

* * *

An hour later I found myself leaning back against the wall of the house, wondering how I’d gotten so lucky. My girl’s name was Becca, and she was rapidly turning into my all-time favorite female. Not that we’d talked much—she was pretty quiet. But she was soft and warm, and now I had her tucked between my legs, leaning back against me.

“Skittish” hadn’t been the right word for her, either. She’d been nervous as hell, so nervous I’d been afraid at first she’d pull a runner on me. Beer helped with that, and now she was relaxed into me, eyes closed, head turned toward my chest so that my chin brushed her forehead. I’d have said she was asleep if it wasn’t for the little noises she made every time my fingers circled her nipples under her shirt, or slid down her stomach.

We’d pushed up the bra about ten minutes ago, and I’d explored down below just enough to know she wasn’t sopping wet for me yet . . . but she was getting there. This was a good thing, because my dick was harder than a rock and ready for more. I shifted my hips, sliding my erection against her back, and groaned.

Feeling her up in the firelight was great, but time to move things along.

I pulled out one hand, catching her chin and tilting it up for a kiss. God, she was sweet. She tasted like sunshine and beer, with a hint of tequila mixed in for good measure. I could tell she didn’t have a ton of experience, because when I slid my tongue into her mouth she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her own.

Turned me on in a big way, gotta admit.

“Becca, you should take him on upstairs, don’t you think?”

Teeny’s voice cut through the kiss, and Becca stiffened. She pulled away from me, shutting down so hard I could practically feel the arctic chill. Fuck. For an instant I gave serious consideration to killing Teeny. It’d taken me nearly an hour to get her to this point, and he was not going to fuck it up for me.

I stared him down, eyes narrow.

“Is there a reason you’re talking to her?”

He smirked.

“Just making sure it’s all good here.”

“Go away.”

“Take him upstairs, Becca.” If anything, she got more tense, and I groaned. Sure, I could just go find someone else. But I didn’t want anyone else, and this asshole was ruining things for me. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into me, tight, making it clear that she didn’t need to worry about Teeny.

“Now would be a real good time to disappear,” I told him, my voice full of a quiet menace designed to convey one message—fear. Becca shivered, which pissed me off. Been hard enough to get through to her, and now she had to see this. “Otherwise I’ll make it happen. Got me?”

Boonie came to stand next to us.

“We got a problem here?” he asked.

“No,” Teeny said, glaring at me and Becca. Then he turned and scuttled off like the fucking roach he was. She shivered, and I rubbed my hands up and down her arms.

“Don’t worry, babe,” I told her absently. “Thanks, Boonie.”

“No prob,” he muttered looking after Teeny. “Glad we’re leaving in the morning. There’s something wrong here—been a very educational trip.”

I nodded, although I didn’t have the full story. They’d fill me in later, so until then I’d just follow Boonie’s lead.

“Let’s go inside,” Becca said. “Find some privacy.”

She pulled free and stood up. This startled me, but I wasn’t exactly unhappy about the development. I lurched off-balance as I rose, and things were a little hazy around the edges. Wasn’t messing with my dick, though, so all good where it counted. She led me into the house and up the stairs to a small room in the back. It had a twin-size bed that was rumpled and stained. There was a puddle of beer spilled on the floor next to a turned-over bottle. More cups and bottles littered the area, and an ashtray was half full on the bedside table.

“Guess we aren’t the first ones looking for some privacy,” I commented, but I didn’t really care. Nope. I just shut the door and locked it. When I turned back, she’d already stripped down to her bra, and was busy unzipping her jeans.

Holy shit.

Becca was gorgeous.

I mean, I’d seen how pretty she was outside, but those sweet little boobs I’d been groping the last hour were even more perfect than I’d imagined. Somehow the fact that a plain cotton bra cradled them just enhanced the experience. Then she slid her pants off and I nearly died because I’d never seen anything sexier. I wanted to tie her down and take possession of every hole in her body. Twice.

Becca saw it all written in my face—clearly it scared her. She took a step back, and held up a hand. A deeply disturbing question flickered through my foggy brain.

“Are you a virgin?” I asked, the words tasting strange in my mouth. She gave a harsh laugh, then shook her head.

“No, I’m not a virgin.”

She reached behind to unhook her bra and I saw her nipples for the first time. Pink and pointy and gorgeous, exactly the right size for my mouth . . . I stepped toward her and she surprised me, dropping to her knees and reaching for my fly.

“How long has it been?” she asked, her voice almost businesslike. I groaned as she pushed down my jeans and briefs, cock springing free. I’d never been harder—wasn’t entirely sure I’d survive the next ten minutes. Fuck, would I even last ten minutes? Then her hand wrapped around me and I closed my eyes, reaching out to lean against the wall because otherwise I would’ve fallen flat on my ass.

She started out slow and steady, wrapping her fingers around me and rubbing up and down. After a minute she paused. I opened my eyes to see her peeking up at me as she licked her palm, looking older and more seductive than I’d pegged her before. Fuck. Fuck. Then her other hand reached down to cup my balls as she started working me again with all ten fingers.

I gasped, falling into the sensation again. Definitely wouldn’t be lasting that long, I realized. No way. But that was just fine, because tonight I had a lot more than one load saved up and ready to go.

“Use your mouth.”

She obeyed, opening up and taking me in, her tongue flicking at me expertly. Almost too expertly . . . weird, and a little surprising, given how she kissed. Then she sucked me deeper and I stopped thinking at all. Everything was warm and wet and fucking perfect.

Thirty seconds later I blew up in her mouth without warning. Hell, it caught me off guard, it happened so fast, and I cringed. Reaching down, I caught her hair in my hand, pulling out the rubber band holding it so the long, brown strands fell around her face. She stood, wiping her face with the back of her hand, soft brown eyes meeting mine.

She looked like an innocent little angel again.

“Becca, that was . . .” I didn’t have the words. God, I’d missed sex. Real sex, not just jacking off in my hand. Nothing in the world quite as sweet as the feel of hot wet woman wrapped around my dick.

She turned away, reaching down to grab a half-empty fifth of rotgut vodka off the bedside table, taking a big drink, and swishing it around her mouth. Then she spat it out on the floor so it mingled with the pooled beer before taking another swig.

Okay, not a total angel.

I reached out, and Becca handed the bottle to me wordlessly. Then she slid off her plain cotton panties and laid back on the bed.

“You ready?” she asked. I drank deep, my head spinning because I’d never been more ready for anything in my life. She didn’t look ready, though. Her eyes were distant, and when I kicked off my pants and stepped between her legs, I could see her body wasn’t with me, either.

Fortunately I knew how to fix that.

Pulling off my cut, I looked for somewhere safe to put it. The only available flat surface was the little table, but in the back corner was one of those hanging racks with some clothes on it. I walked over and grabbed a hanger, hung up the leather vest, and turned back to Becca.

She’d closed her eyes, and I’d have thought she was asleep if I didn’t know better. Fuck, maybe she’d passed out.

“You awake?”

She nodded her head.

“Yeah, just sort of drunk,” she muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

Shrugging, I pulled off my shirt, then knelt down beside the bed and caught her legs up and over my shoulders. She squawked as I spread her pussy lips, giving her a long lick straight up to her clit.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, suddenly awake and alert. I licked her again, and Becca squirmed and gasped as her little nub started to harden for me. Nice. “Oh my God! I can’t believe how good that feels . . .”

She fell back on the bed as I got going. I love pussy. Of course, most men do, but not all of them love going down on a nice, juicy cunt as much as me. I licked and tickled, every once in a while giving a little nip as Becca came to life under me. I think she was trying to keep still at first, but no way was I having any of that shit. Nope. I wanted her soaking wet and screaming, because I planned to ride her hard the rest of the night.

Then I slid two fingers deep inside, searching for just the right spot as I sucked on her clit like candy. Found it on the first try, and she blew up around me, crying out and sobbing. I pulled away, grabbing a chunk of loose sheet to wipe off my mouth, and she moaned, little shivers running through her body.

I’d been hard for her before—almost constantly, even right after I’d come in her mouth—but that was nothing compared to my cock now. Fluid seeped from the tip, and I reached across the floor for my pants, pulling out a condom. Along the way the vodka caught my eye and I took another drink, following her lead as I swished out my mouth and spat on the floor.

The place was truly disgusting, but I’d spent fourteen months in prison so a little filth was the least of my concerns. Tilting back my head, I sucked down the rest of the booze, swaying as I stood. I caught her under the arms and scooted her up the bed before I slipped on the condom. Seconds later I pushed deep into her. Fuck, this had been the right call tonight, because—I shit you not—never felt anything that good before in my life.

She moaned and I caught her mouth with mine, kissing her hard and claiming her. This time I didn’t hold back. Nope. I just took as much as I could, savoring her sweet taste and wondering if she wanted to see Idaho . . . We’d be leaving in the morning, and the thought of throwing her on the back of my bike and taking her along worked for me in a big way.

Then she squeezed down on me hard and I stopped thinking altogether.

* * *

We slept for a while. Maybe we passed out. Dunno. Same difference. When I woke up, Becca was tucked into my side, one leg thrown over mine. Her hair trailed across my chest and her breath tickled my skin.

That’s all it took.

I rolled her over onto her stomach, sliding a pillow under her hips and spreading her legs before grabbing a condom. She murmured, not really talking, but the sounds coming out of her mouth weren’t unhappy when I found her clit again. Seconds later I pushed into her. I’m sure some man—somewhere in history—had enjoyed the feel of a woman’s cunt more than I did in that moment. Hard to imagine how, though.

I’d taken off the edge earlier and now that I had her nice and warmed up, I was ready to do this thing for real. Grabbing her hips, I pulled back and slammed deep. Becca screamed and stiffened, now well and truly awake. Fuck, so hot and slick . . . I started pumping in and out of her hard, loving how she convulsed around me. Her arms reached out, clawing the sheets, and I lowered myself across her back, using my knees to spread her legs out even wider. Then I caught her hands in mine, nipping at the back of her neck before groaning into her ear.

“Reach down below and finger your clit.”

“I can’t,” she gasped. I paused, catching her hand and shoving it down beneath her stomach as I lifted my weight. We found her clit together, then I shoved back into her roughly.

“Oh my God . . .” she moaned. “That’s incredible.”

Damn straight.

“Now keep it there,” I ordered. “You’re going to come for me at least twice, got it?”

She nodded into the sheets and I pulled my hand free, bracing myself as I started moving again. It wasn’t gentle, but that was okay because I felt how wet and slick she was around me. Tight, too. Even better than I’d imagined back in my cell, and I have a hell of a good imagination. I leaned up on my elbows, catching her hair and jerking it back because I get off on that shit. Each twist of my hips took me closer, and when she started convulsing around me and crying, I nearly lost it. Not quite, though. I wasn’t finished.

Mouth. Cunt. Ass.

I’d planned it all out in my head, dreamed about it for months . . . Now I finally had the staying power to finish it. As she shuddered and trembled, I pulled free and sat back on my heels. Becca’s ass spread wide in front of me, and I smiled because it was fucking gorgeous. Heart shaped, pretty. Not too big, but not fucking skinny and nasty like a half-starved donkey, either.

Christ, I wanted to fuck her there.

My cock was still wrapped tight and dripping with her juices, but I spat into my hand a couple times for good measure, slathering it on for a little extra lube. Then caught her hips and pulled her up and onto her knees.

“Brace yourself.”

She nodded, stretching out her arms in front of her like a cat, which was cute but totally inadequate under the circumstances. I caught her hair again, yanking her head to the side. Becca gasped.

“I said brace yourself,” I repeated. “Gonna fuck your ass now.”

She squawked, and her entire body stiffened.

“That a problem?” I asked. She shook her head quickly.

“No, do it.”

Shit, could she sound less enthusiastic? I stilled, realizing my prison dream girl might not be up for the full porno fantasy in living color. Fuck.

“It’s okay,” I said, pulling back. I closed my eyes, running a hand through my hair and shuddering. I’d just fuck her cunt some more. I could do that. Then she shocked the hell out of me by reaching around behind to grab my cock. She pushed back with her hips, awkwardly trying to guide me to her asshole, which was funny and pathetic at the same time.

Because I’m a shitty human being, I went for it. Not a complete dick, though. I could see the tension radiating off her.

“You never done this before?” I asked her. She shook her head violently, not looking at me.

“Okay, we’ll go slow.”

She nodded this time, but she still didn’t give me her eyes. It bothered me for some reason, although why, I had no fucking idea. I dug my fingers deep into her hair, twisting her head around enough to kiss her. Hard. My tongue dug deep, forcing her to kiss me back and, I shit you not, I felt like fireworks were going off in my head. Clichéd as all fuck, but there you have it. After long seconds we came up for air, and I stared into her eyes, seeing how her pupils grew wide.

Slowly, steadily I found her opening with my cockhead, pushing in as she gasped.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, eyes wide, her lips trembling. I held her there, my heart beating so hard I thought it might come right out of my chest as I pushed down deep. She was tight—really tight. Sure as hell hadn’t been lying when she’d said she’d never done this before. I sank into her for what felt like forever before I hit bottom, balls resting against her pussy. Her heartbeat pulsed around my cock and I realized that I would be happy to die in that moment. That’s how good it was.

Becca closed her eyes and turned her face into the covers, spasming around me. I didn’t like the position—I wanted to watch her face— but she seemed to need some privacy. I got it. I’ve never been a nice, vanilla kind of guy, but this was a different kind of intensity than even I was used to. No screaming, no scratching, no fighting with each other until we both lost our minds . . . No, this was powerful on a whole new level, and looking into her eyes the whole time was probably too much for me, too.

I pulled back out, then slid in again. She gasped.

“Play with your clit some more.”

She nodded without speaking, burrowing her hand back down until she found her target. I started moving, going slowly and carefully at first. But it felt really good, and I’ve never been one to take things slow and careful.

Looking back, I can’t decide if that’s when things really fell to shit, or if they’d been falling to shit all along and I was just too stupid to see it. Never have figured that one out, but what happened next was not my finest hour. I started moving faster. It felt fucking amazing. She felt fucking amazing. Then I was pounding her and she was shuddering and I thought she was coming and it was perfect.

Becca sobbed suddenly. Loud. Not a pretty crying kind of noise, and not one of those moans bitches give when they’re getting off so hard they can’t quite control themselves.

No.

This was the kind of noise a puppy makes when you kick it, and I felt it all the way down to my gut like a knife ripping me open.

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

I pulled out and caught her up and into my arms. She flinched and I hated myself, because even like that she was soft and pretty and I just wanted to keep nailing her ass. Becca knew it, too, because she tried to pull away from the press of my cock against her back. More sobs escaped and tears rolled down her face and I knew for a fact that I’d burn in hell for this.

Rubbing her head, I tried to think of soothing noises. Instead I was full of questions. Why had she let me do it?

‘Cause you’re a pushy, scary bastard.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, my head starting to spin. Shouldn’t have drunk so much. I had no idea what time it was, no idea how long we’d been up here . . . I heard noises outside, the sounds of music and the party still going, but that didn’t mean much. A good party could last all night and into the next morning.

“It’s okay,” she finally managed to whisper, and I bit back a harsh laugh because that was a huge fucking lie and we both knew it. Then she did something that blew me away. Becca turned in my arms and pushed me down onto my back. Seconds later she had the condom off and was sucking me deep again, which made no fucking sense at all.

Unfortunately my dick wasn’t the sensitive, caring type because it really didn’t care that she was clearly so scared and drunk off her ass she’d lost touch with reality.

I could’ve stopped her.

I should’ve stopped her.

Instead I sank my fingers into her hair and blew up into her mouth and it was even better than the first time. The room was seriously spinning all around me as she tucked into my arm and stroked my chest.

“Tell him I did good, okay?” she whispered. “Just tell him I did good. Please?”

I passed out, wondering what the fuck she was talking about.

* * *

My bladder was about to explode.

Needed to pee. Maybe rinse out my mouth, too, because it tasted like something died in there and that was not an exaggeration. Shifting, I realized that Becca was still tucked into me, sleeping heavily. I managed to crack my eyes open, blinking. Faint light was creeping in through the window, although even now I could still hear music down below.

Great. Gonna be a long ride home with no sleep. Sliding carefully out from under Becca, I stood and pulled on my pants. My shirt had fallen into the sticky puddle of beer and vodka, so I stumbled out of the room half naked. The door across the hall was locked, although from the smell it had to be the bathroom—either that or people had started pissing and vomiting in the bedrooms, which I supposed wasn’t entirely impossible. Felt great to be back with my brothers, but our hosts kind of sucked ass. Bunch of assholes and meth heads, so far as I could tell. No wonder Boonie didn’t trust them.

I walked down the stairs into the living room, where despite the fact that music still blared, people were passed out all over the place. My brother Deep leaned back against the bar separating the living room from the kitchen area, arms crossed, a look of faint disgust on his face.

“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“You look like death. Have fun up there?”

I shrugged, feeling like an asshole.

“She’s perfect,” I said. “But I think I hurt her.”

His eyes narrowed.

“We got a situation? Should I go get Boonie?”

Shit.

“No, not like that,” I said quickly. “I mean, I think I pushed her too far. Tried to fuck her ass, and it didn’t go over so well. She’s okay, but I still feel like a douche.”

“We got a girl who’s gonna cry rape?” he asked quickly, and I snorted.

“Probably should,” I replied. “She told me to do it, though. Afterward she sucked me off. Feels wrong, somehow.”

“You want another drink?” I turned to see Teeny standing there, his beady eyes bright and full of something I couldn’t quite follow. God, I hated him—he was like a cockroach that wasn’t smart enough to stay out of the light.

Anger replaced my disgust. He needed to leave me the fuck alone.

“Are you serious?” I asked him, turning and cracking my knuckles. The fight with Painter had taken off my edge, but it’d come back again as I told Deep about Becca. Hitting someone— anyone—would feel good, but hitting this guy? That’d be a flat-out pleasure. “God, don’t you ever go away? Fucking piece of shit!”

I started toward him, but Deep caught my arm, pulling me back.

“Careful, bro,” he said quietly. “This isn’t about him. You’re pissed about the girl. Pick your battles, because there’s a lot more Longnecks than Reapers and Bastards combined. All he did was offer you a drink.”

Fuck. I breathed deep, looking at the scared little shit and wishing desperately he’d do something—anything—to give me an excuse to take him down. My brothers would back me no matter what, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think there wouldn’t be a price for my actions.

“I’m going back to bed,” I said after a tense minute or so, pulling free. “Talk to you later, brother.”

Deep nodded, watching Teeny as I turned and stalked back up the stairs. This time the bathroom door was open. Sure enough, someone had missed the toilet, and I felt my own stomach heave sympathetically. For a sec there I thought I might lose it. Then I pulled it together enough to piss without barfing. Afterward, I turned to look at myself in the mirror. As always, the face looking back at me was ugly as fuck. Dark, ragged hair. Scar cutting across my face. Nose that’d been broken at least four times now . . .

Shit, no wonder Becca had been scared of me—I looked like a fuckin’ serial killer. I wanted to punch the mirror and break it into a thousand pieces, which would accomplish even less than beating the shit out of Teeny.

Instead I went back into the room and found her still sound asleep on the bed. Her skin was pale and fragile, dark shadows ringing her eyes. Still gorgeous, but younger and more frail-looking now. Christ. What had I done? I crawled back into bed with her, sure I’d never get to sleep. I’d underestimated how much booze was still floating around in my system, because everything went dark again.

* * *

This time the sun was bright and harsh. I blinked, trying to remember where I was . . . Then it all came back and I looked around, wondering where my girl went.

Shit. Becca was gone.

What the hell really happened last night? I sat up, spotting my colors hanging from a rack next to . . . school uniforms? Fuck, some kid must live in this room, I realized. That’d suck, coming home to a mess like this. I turned and lowered my feet on the far side of the bed, figuring I’d open the window to air things out, check the lay of the land in the process. I stepped on a pile of books, which fell over. I reached down to pick one up.

Textbook.

I picked up another. Shit, it was another textbook, and under that was a notebook. That’s when I started to get a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach—something I wouldn’t have pegged as possible, given how shitty I already felt about how the night had played out.

The notebook opened in my hands, and I saw the name Becca Jones written on the top of the front page, along with English: First Period and the date.

Below were notes.

Maybe she was in college, I thought desperately. Please, fuck . . . let her be in college. A piece of colored paper fell to the ground, and I dropped the notebook to pick it up.

What I saw nearly made me throw up.

It was a flyer for a dance—a high school dance.

Becca was still in school. Jailbait. The fuck? It didn’t add up . . . Then her last words to me sank in, and it all added up far too well.

“Tell him I did good, okay? Just tell him I did good. Please?”

* * *

I flew down the stairs half dressed, my boots thudding loudly. My shirt was filthy from her floor, but my cut was still fine—safe and sound after a night spent hanging next to Becca’s little school dresses. Fucking piece of shit pimp Teeny.

Had to be him.

This was his house. Who the hell was she? His kid? What the fuck kind of asshole pimped out his own daughter? But shit, I guess it happened all the time, all over the world. About halfway down I heard her scream, which should’ve woken up everyone all over the goddamned house. Most of them were still passed out drunk, though. I heard more shouts outside and knew my brothers were probably coming.

That turned out to be a good thing, because I came damned close to ending a man’s life that day—fucking craptastic way to start parole . . .

Teeny stood in the center of the kitchen, Becca huddled at his feet as he kicked her. Then he whacked her across the head with a fucking soup pot, of all things, and I lost my shit.

“You cocksucking asshole!” I shouted, launching myself at him.

“Fucking twat! I’ll kill you!”

My fists destroyed his face with a crunch. It felt good— cathartic.

He fell like a bag of concrete and some part of my brain noted vaguely that Becca was scrabbling away from us, chunks of her long hair torn loose and left on the floor. Blood, too. Another woman shouted and tugged at her, but I didn’t turn to look.

Nope. I had work to do.

Specifically, I needed to kill Teeny with my bare hands. Then I’d tear him apart and eat his heart. Raw. He screamed like a bitch the whole time, and I heard Boonie yelling in the background. Then they hauled me off his ass, kicking and fighting because I’d well and truly lost my shit.

“What the fuck is happening here?” Picnic Hayes demanded. Beside him stood one of the Longnecks, a guy who looked a fuckuva lot like Teeny and I realized this must be the brother who was part of the club. Bax.

Bax wasn’t a happy camper. Fair enough. I was pretty fucking unhappy myself.

Teeny moaned on the floor, rolling onto his back, and I spat at him. Then I heard a sobbing noise—one that’d already been burned into my brain. Becca was crying, and I looked over to find her huddled up against Teeny’s old lady.

Shit. I hadn’t seen it before because the woman was so nasty and used up, but under that scrawny, tweaker body was an older copy of Becca. Had to be her mother . . . Even with the meth eating her, though, she seemed too young. If that was the mother, she must’ve had Becca really fucking early.

“She his daughter?” I asked her, my voice like a knife. The woman shook her head quickly, lips quivering. “You let him pimp her out?”

She looked away.

“Damn,” Picnic said. “This is a hell of a clusterfuck.”

“I’m not leaving her here. He’ll kill her.”

Pic shook his head slowly, thoughtfully, but I could see it in his face—he knew I was right.

“Yeah, she can come with us,” he said. “You up for that, Boon?”

My president nodded, eyes never leaving the huddled mass of blood and human filth crying on the floor.

“We’ll head out in twenty minutes,” Boonie said decisively. “Anyone got a problem with that?”

He looked around the room in challenge, and several of the Longnecks glanced away—apparently they weren’t going to stand up for Teeny. Said a hell of a lot about them in general and Teeny in particular. I mean, I was glad that we weren’t fighting our way out, but that’s just pathetic. They were happy to party with him. When it came time to take his back, they were out.

“C’mon, let’s go upstairs and grab some of your shit,” I said to Becca, reaching toward her. She gave a little scream and pushed back with her feet, sliding across the floor to get away from me. Fuck.

“I’ll get her ready,” her mother said suddenly. Her voice quavered, but her eyes were resolute as they met mine. “She’ll go with you—just get her away from here. He’ll hurt her bad for this. Real bad.”

I nodded, watching as she drew her daughter to her feet, then pushed her toward the stairwell.

“Jesus, you can sure pick ’em,” Boonie said. “How old you think she is?”

“She’s still in high school,” I said, my voice grim. “Fairly certain I’m up for statutory if this goes down wrong.”

“Damn,” Painter said, coming up behind me. “That’s fast work—usually takes a little longer to violate parole, bro.”

I met his gaze, and for once his face didn’t hold even a hint of mockery. Fuck. This was really bad.

“Outside,” Picnic said sharply. “Horse, Ruger—you stay here. Make sure the girl gets out safe, okay?”

He caught my arm and pulled me toward the door. Boonie flanked us, and I sensed real danger beneath their calm expressions. We walked over to the bikes as the others scrambled to grab their shit and pack up.

“I won’t leave her,” I told them again. “I know she’s scared of me, but I don’t give a fuck. That girl’ll die if she stays here.”

“Not gonna leave her,” Pic said. “But we do need to get out fast, before they have time to figure out what happened and get pissed off. They decide to fight for her, things’ll get ugly. Not sure we can take ’em.”

“Thanks for standing with me.”

Boonie snorted.

“You’re our brother, Puck,” he said, his voice casual. “This is what we do. You went down for us, you think we aren’t prepared to do the same for you? Now pull your shit together. We can put the girl in the truck with the prospects, or you can take her on your bike. No time to fuck around.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, I watched as Horse, Becca, and her mom walked out of the house. At least thirty members of the Longnecks MC stood watching, talking quietly among themselves. I kept waiting for one of them to reach for a gun or challenge us, but they didn’t.

No sign of Teeny.

Becca had stopped crying, but her face was still covered in tear-smeared blood, and nasty bruises were popping up all over. Her breath sounded wheezy, too, and I hoped to hell she didn’t have broken ribs.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, catching at her mom’s arm. “I want to stay with you.”

“You’re getting out,” the woman replied, her eyes hard and calculating. “Let him cool off, then we’ll talk. Figure something out.”

Becca shook her head, but when I caught her arm gently she let me pull her away.

“You want to ride in the truck or on my bike?”

Becca glanced at the truck, eyes widening at the sight of two Reaper prospects. “I’ll stay with you.”

I nodded and climbed on my bike, eyes alert as I monitored our audience. She climbed up behind me, and then her mother gave a satisfied nod. Becca wrapped her arms around me and I felt her tits press tight against my back. My cock stirred to life. What the fucking hell was wrong with me?

“How old are you?” I asked, my voice low.

“Sixteen.”

Shit.

“Like, you’re almost seventeen?”

“No, I turned sixteen last week.”

Double shit.

Boonie kicked his bike to life, and we followed his lead, pulling away from the house in formation.

So that’s the story of how I committed statutory rape less than twenty-four hours out of prison—on my birthday, no less. In retrospect, I probably should’ve stayed inside, served out my full five-year term. Would’ve been less work for everyone.

 

Meet Puck & Becca on April 7th!

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

joanna wylde

Joanna Wylde is a New York Times bestselling author and creator of the Reapers Motorcycle Club series. She currently lives in Idaho.

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