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(Devil’s Fury MC)
Published by: Changeling Press
Publication date: February 14th 2020
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Meiling – All I’ve ever known was pain. My life has been far from a fairytale. No parents. No friends. Just an endless nightmare that I can’t wake from. Until the day a man offered me his hand and promised to keep me safe. I’ve never trusted anyone before, but there’s something about him. Maybe it’s insane, but I know he won’t hurt me, and when he puts his arms around me, for the first time in my life I feel loved.
Dingo – I’ve always had a soft spot for women and kids in trouble. One look at Meiling, and I knew I had to protect her at any cost. The beautiful girl with the wounded soul. After all she’s suffered, all I want is to make her smile, make her feel secure, and give her a chance to find happiness. But first, I need to take out the men and women responsible for hurting her. It might get ugly, and messy, but they don’t call me Dingo for nothing. I’m a crazy bastard and I won’t stop until she’s safe. I just didn’t count on falling for her along the way.
Warning: Meiling’s past isn’t pretty. Dingo and Meiling’s story deals with issues of human trafficking, bureaucratic corruption, and vigilante justice. This book contains darker themes that may trigger some readers.
“Sit right here, sugar. I’ll get Beau to make you something to eat.”
Once I made sure she would stay put, and the others would remain at their table, I went to the bar and spoke to Beau. He kept watching Mei, concern for her evident by the haunted look in his eyes and his jerky motions. It was like he wanted to go to her, but wasn’t sure how she’d take it. I’d never seen him like this before, and I wondered if there was something more between them. My stomach churned at the thought, which was ridiculous. I’d only laid eyes on her today. It wasn’t like she was mine.
“Is she… will she be all right?” Beau asked. “I didn’t know she was in that place.”
“She’s important to you,” I said, hoping he’d offer up more information. All I knew was that he’d known Mei when he was younger. He hadn’t given us much more when he’d asked the club for help getting her away from the Ruby Slipper.
“Mei’s a part of my past, but I never should have left her. Maybe if I’d found a way to go back for her, then she wouldn’t have ended up…” He clamped his mouth shut, but I heard the unspoken words just the same. She wouldn’t have become a prostitute.
“Beau, you can’t blame yourself. When you came here, you were just a kid. Hell, you’re still a kid. If you’d gone after her, who’s to say you wouldn’t be the one whoring yourself out?” I said what I thought he needed to hear, but it made me wonder if he was right. Had Mei ended up where she did because he’d left her behind? What exactly had he been running from?
He winced and looked away, but it made me wonder about his life before he found the club. Or rather, before Grizzly found him. The old man did have a habit of bringing home strays. It’s how he’d ended up with his daughters, and I had no doubt that when he ran across another kid who needed help, he’d bring them home too. It was just his way. It was part of what pissed me off so much about how they’d handled Mei when she’d arrived today, and why I’d intervened when I did. I still didn’t know what the fuck was going on. I’d have never thought Demon or Grizzly would be like that with a woman in need.
“She needs food and clothes,” I said. “You handle the food, and I’ll send someone after some clothing for her.”
“I don’t think she has money for that kind of thing.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. As if I’d expected her to pay? It was obvious she’d been struggling, and had taken a trip through hell along the way. I wasn’t a big enough asshole to make her pay for stuff she hadn’t even asked for, and the fact Beau thought that made me want to put my fist through his face, but I refrained — for Mei’s sake. I still didn’t know how close the two of them had been, and I didn’t want to upset her.
“Just make the fucking food, Prospect.”
He dropped his gaze and gave a nod before heading into the kitchen. I motioned over another Prospect and reached for a piece of paper and pen from behind the bar. I scribbled Mei’s sizes and made a few notes of specifically what I wanted him to purchase, then pulled out a wad of cash from my wallet.
“Henry, I want you to take this and buy what’s on the list. Not a damn thing that isn’t on there, understood?” I asked, handing him the money and paper.
“Got it, Dingo.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Where do I take it once I get back?”
I looked over at Mei and then the officers at the table. The way Demon watched her had me clenching my teeth. No fucking way I was letting her out of my sight. Well, not unless they ordered me to hand her over, and even then, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to. She was young and defenseless. Some caveman piece of me demanded that I beat my chest and warn the others off, let them know she was mine. Except she wasn’t.
“Bring it to my place,” I said.
“You got it.”
Harley is the international bestselling author of the Dixie Reapers and Devil’s Boneyard series.
When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.
Harley Wylde is the “wilder” side of award-winning science fiction/paranormal romance author Jessica Coulter Smith. For fans of Gay Erotic Fantasy Romance, Harley/Jessica also writes as Dulce Dennison.
Check out Harley’s other books, and read some random facts about the author, at harleywylde.com.
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Today is the release day for To Be Yours!
A look into…
~ About the Series ~
~ About the Book ~
The hard composite of her firearm shifted against her lower back.
Well, if push comes to shove, I can protect myself. I’ll shoot the bastard if he shows up and tries anything. Eventually, her nerves calmed enough so she could move without feeling ill.
She rose and stripped out of her clothes, put her weapon on the counter, then stepped into the shower. The hard and hot spray beat on her, helping her to feel something other than worry about potential rumors or her ex finding her. Kat bowed her head, placed her hands above the faucets. The water sluiced down her hair, cascaded in wide streams over her back. More time passed. Relaxed and clear headed, she finished her shower and was about to open the door when a thud and click sounded on the other side.
Gripping the towel wrapped around her body, she snatched her weapon, opened the door, and cautiously looked out into the room.
Dakota lounged on the bed, one leg bent, his hat propped on that leg’s knee. His hair stuck up in clumpy spikes. He ran a dirty hand through his dark brown locks.
Kat released a pent-up breath, lowered her weapon, and placed the Glock on a counter next to the bathroom door. “How’d you get in here?”
Tired eyes gazed at her. “I’m manager on duty while the Taggerts are away, ’member? Got a bunch of master keys.” Dak held up the ring of them. “You okay? When you didn’t come back, I got worried.”
“I’m fine. I think the humidity got to me. Along with the dirt.”
“Sure. The humidity. You tell me that you’re afraid a man is going to come after you, or rather us. We hear about the vehicle. You turn white as one of our ghosts and run off. Who was in the car, Kat?”
“Hell if I know. I’ve been with you all day. I didn’t see the fancy black car or who was in it.”
“You don’t have a clue as to who was in the car? I’m not buying it.”
“Buy it or don’t.” She crossed her arms over her stomach. “I really don’t know. It could have been Nero. It could have been his goons. It could have been a neighbor of yours or one of the party guests Kent mentioned. I. Wasn’t. There. I. Didn’t. See.”
Dakota flung himself off the bed and slammed the hat on his head. “Get dressed. You’ll come with me while I get cleaned up then we’ll go hang out in the rec hall.”
“You know what, Dak? I appreciate the Boy Scout approach, and how you’re trying to get a merit badge for babysitting, but all I want is to lie down and take a nap.”
“Kat, please. I’m hot, dirty, and tired. I don’t want to argue.” He strode to the door. “Get dressed so we can get going.” His gaze flashed darkly, roamed over her with an appraising glance. A slow grin tipped up the corner of his lips.
Thank you for joining me here today and celebrating the release of my story, To Be Yours! Be sure to buy a copy now. 😉 I’d super appreciate it. 🙂
Title: Bound To Liberty
Author: Kiru Taye writing as Kai Tyler
Series: Bound, Book 5
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Queer Romance
Formats: eBook and paperback
James isn’t ready to lose his heart again. Will Ethan fight for his love?
As if life isn’t tough enough for James Coker, rejected and nearly killed by family, he is also a closeted gay man in a country where being gay is outlawed. So when the first man he’s ever loved gets engaged to a woman, James’s solution to heartbreak is to indulge in a holiday fling.
In contrast, Ethan Eze has had life relatively easy. Born in the ‘Land of the Free’ and nurtured within a family where he can be whoever he wants to be, he’s a military veteran who is not afraid of going for what he wants. When he meets James, Ethan wants him.
Desire burns between them and soon blurs into devotion. But James is not ready to lose his heart again. Will Ethan fight for his love?
Bound to Liberty is a story about breaking free from mental chains and living a life of boundless love.
*Content Warning: homophobia, threat of forced outing, depictions of anxiety
Add to Goodreads: http://ow.ly/jbnB30kiyjL
Ethan let the men out and locked the door. When he turned around, James wasn’t in the living room.
“James?” he called out as he strode across the space. Getting no response, he knocked on the closed door to the younger man’s room. “Can I come in?”
“It’s not locked,” James’s muffled voice came through.
Ethan pushed the door and stopped at the threshold.
His ward paced the room manically, muttering to himself. Although the AC was on, sweat beaded his hairline and his hands were clenched.
The sight of James’s distress undid Ethan. His job was to keep James physically safe and find his stalker. His professional remit didn’t extend to dealing with emotional baggage.
Nonetheless, he’d be damned if he just had to stand guard while the young man hurt. He stepped into the room without a second thought. Nothing else mattered but taking away the suffering. Neither his misgivings about getting personally involved with his ward nor the risk of losing an influential client if he cocked this up stopped him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He halted in front of James, blocking his pacing path.
James shook his head and tried to swerve past him.
He reached out and settled his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Talk to me.”
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING
“Highly recommended … Love this series.” ~ Ngozi
“Fantastic … it didn’t disappoint.” ~ Kemi
“Took the bar meters higher with this one.” ~ Paschal
“Keep breaking the barriers.” ~ Ngozi
As a lover of romance novels, Kiru wanted to read stories about Africans falling in love. When she couldn’t find those books, she decided to write the stories she wanted to read. She writes sensual African stories as Kiru Taye and writes queer romance as Kai Tyler.
Everything can be bought. Except love.
Kace Karrington is a wealthy, self-made investor with no qualms about steamrolling others to achieve his goals. He’s attracted to men, but picks up beautiful women, giving the cold, unfeeling world of Finance the appearance he’s successful…powerful. That is until he meets a smoking hot street punk eager to show him there’s more to life than making money.
#Billionaire #Manlove #Gay #MM #Romance
Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads
See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest
And then happens what happens to me once in a long while: he catches my attention. I mean really makes me stop and stare. I’m attracted to men, after all, and some can be surprisingly handsome. This specimen is a lot more so than one would imagine of a drug addict. Strong, symmetrical features and tanned skin make quite the tableau with full lips, an aquiline nose, and dark green, gold-flecked irises framed by thick eyelashes. Even unkempt blond hair and a three-day stubble look sexy on him.
This is the guy who calls himself my sister’s friend? He’s so easy on the eyes, he has to be more than a friend.
He scowls. “Do you always do that?”
“Do what?” I take in the rest of him. He’s my height, but much skinnier. Probably can’t afford to go to a gym and do weights three times a week like I do.
“Refuse to shake someone’s hand,” he replies, tone offended. His voice sounds light but mature. Warm, comfortable to the ear. “While your sister’s in there…fighting for her life.” Tears form in his eyes. So, their redness was due to him crying.
“Sorry, it’s the nerves.” I give him my hand.
“Yeah.” He accepts to shake it, but his wet glare tells me he’s not convinced.
Me? I’m so taken aback by his good looks and intense presence, I almost forget why I came out of the room.
Oh yeah. Coffee.
Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.
Meet Lea Bronsen on
Adrian Matsakis is a successful businessman with terrible luck in personal relationships. His ex-wife wrecked him, and when he tried again with Jessie Brandt, she too betrayed him.
He is shocked and outraged to learn he has a son with her and is determined to take custody. He’s never forgotten Jessie but can’t forgive her, especially now.
Forewarned of Adrian’s intent, Jessie preempts him by inviting him to co-parent, and he reins himself in. He can’t resist reminding her of her perfidy, however, just as she continues to maintain her innocence.
They struggle against the chemistry—and more—sparking between them, and when Adrian double checks the facts around Jessie’s supposed betrayal, he’s staggered to learn the evidence was planted.
He sets out to make amends, and Jessie must decide if she’ll allow him back into her heart, and give Adrian a place to finally call home.
We believe you know Jessie Brandt. Please see the attached picture. Come for dinner tonight. Mikhail
Adrian Matsakis shoved back from his desk with such strength the back of the chair hit the wall, and the resulting shudder made his teeth clack together. The distance from his computer monitor didn’t make it less true. The attachment he’d clicked on nearly filled the screen with a picture of a sturdy, little toddler, laughing up at a woman who crouched beside him, holding an enormous balloon.
It was like looking into a mirror of his youth, pictures of him as a child festooning most available surfaces, compliments of his doting mother. She’d been unable to have other children, and thus lavished every maternal ounce of her being upon him. His father created a balance, or Mama might have driven him crazy.
Maybe he was crazy, seeing something in that image that was wishful thinking. It couldn’t be. Rolling back to his desk, he clicked to reread the email from Mikhail. Nothing changed.
After opening up the image again, he soaked in the two faces featured there, noting how little Jessie had changed over the three years since he’d last seen her, the golden-blonde hair and laughing brown eyes, clear, ivory skin, long, slender hands, and a lithe body with all the requisite curves.
His son—for he had no doubt the child was his—was still exhibiting baby roundness, but his arms and legs were long like Adrian’s, and the riot of black curls that would be the bane of his existence unless fads changed, and maybe even then, waved wildly about the boy’s head. Olive skin set off the tiny white teeth visible in the wide smile. He thought his son’s eyes were gray like his own, but perhaps they were a velvety brown like Jessie’s.
Adrian finally allowed the cacophony of emotions churning in his gut to be labeled. He was furious, firstly. Furious to learn he had a child after all this time, and curious about the boy. Elated too. He wouldn’t deny it. He had badly wanted a child, children, and learning that his ex wife Sharon terminated not one, but two of his babies still sent shards of agony throughout his being.
But he now had a child, and it must be love, if not intense affection flooding his system as he stared at the little boy. He purposely narrowed his gaze, keeping it directly on the toddler, because he didn’t want his confused emotions toward Jessie to spill over, even within his own head, onto his son.
His son. Why hadn’t she told him? Contacted him as was his right? Especially when she knew how much he wanted children? Because I threw her out. He shook the vaguely remorseful thought away.
He’d thrown her out for good reason. She’d been lucky he hadn’t pressed charges, although she’d challenged him to do so even as she accepted his edict and marched away down the hall, her spine erect and her head held high.
Out of sight, out of mind. He’d made certain she left with nothing. Except she left with something. And if she’d really wanted my money, then why hadn’t she used the child? He decided to ignore that inconvenient niggle as well.
He shot an email to Mikhail, accepting the dinner invitation when what he really wanted to do was phone the man and demand an explanation. But he hadn’t climbed to where he was in his business by flying off the handle. He’d attend the dinner tonight armed with all possible information and pool it with what his friend knew. And plan.
He closed down his computer after carefully saving and printing several copies of the toddler and then obtained the number of an experienced investigative agency. He’d head out and pick up some wine and flowers for the hostess—and begin the plan of retrieving his child. Anything this important would take great care and strategy.
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.
Hope is a precious thing.
Hope is all Alpha Protector Killian has. Hope for more time with his mate. Hope for a better future in which they can be together freely. When they’re both assigned to the same undercover mission in Spain, Killian seizes the opportunity as a chance to spend more time with Prudence.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t share his point of view, but hope is the last thing he’ll lose.
It’s not greed if it’s for the greater good.
Prudence loves Killian above all else, but her mission in life is to serve the Virtues and keep the balance between good and evil. Being appointed leader of the Spell Casters in the dangerous mission to defeat the Sin Lords is her chance to prove to her superiors that she can be the next High Priestess.
The only problem is resisting Killian.
With years of pent up love and frustration tugging at them, will they be able to avoid succumbing to their forbidden mating? And what will happen when the evil which they were sent to destroy threatens to tear them apart forever?
Almost two years ago, I revisited the city of Barcelona, Spain.
I was getting ready for the release of Max’s Desire, which mainly takes place in Madrid, and was already busy working on Killian and Prudence’s story.
No sooner had I arrived at the city, I knew that’s where my characters would be headed. I could picture the couple walking through the Gothic Quarter, commenting on the street art, the wide spaces, even the elaborate steel lampposts
Then, we visited the Sagrada Familia and everything clicked. From the arches, to the stained glass windows, down to the never ending spires, it all fit perfectly into Killian’s story.
I hope when you read Killian’s Hope you can delight in stepping into their version of Barcelona, as much as I enjoyed writing about it.
The last rays of sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, creating a pattern of dancing colors on the floors and walls. It would have been a spectacle worth watching if she wasn’t so bent on seeing Killian. She was glad they weren’t allowed to be in the same room together, because otherwise, she didn’t know if she would be capable of not throwing herself into his arms. Prudence reached the appointed room. It was not much larger than the one on the other side of the wall. With an impatient flick of her wrist, she brought the ancient scripts on the walls alive with light. The protection spells glowed brightly for a few seconds then began to fade, remaining dim like the last licking flames of dying firewood. Sitting on the padded stool in front of the window, Pru inhaled deeply. She bit her lip to keep from gasping. Surely, she couldn’t smell him in here. Surely, it was only her mind playing tricks on her, recalling his scent from previous encounters. She dropped her gaze to her hands, staring at her quivering fingers which matched the erratic thumping of her heart. She had to control herself. Recall their true reason for being here.
Killian cleared his throat loudly, shattering her thoughts. There was no point in delaying this any longer. Her pain would not ease so she’d just have to bury it. As she reached for the window’s knob, she swore she heard Killian’s labored exhale, as if he too were releasing something pent-up inside him. Was it possible he also felt the same pain as her? Selfish thoughts tried to surface but she beat them back. It was time to focus. Bracing herself, she slid open the window dividing them and any pretense of focus was nearly lost. Eyes blue like the ocean on a clear morning with dark irises and long blond lashes locked with hers. Her heart danced in her chest and her cheeks heated. Every fiber in her body woke up, alert to the presence of the man she loved.
She dug her fingernails into her knees. Dear Gods, she wanted to touch him. Her gaze dropped to his lips which she could see through the fine mesh. Kiss him. Feel his warm mouth against her, breathing life into her. She looked up again and realized he did the same, taking her in like some kind of starved animal. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she averted her gaze. She had to end this quickly, before their emotions got out of hand. She glanced at the ring on her left hand. Silver with a white stone, it represented the order of Spell Casters. She had to keep her mission in mind.
“Why are you here, Killian?”
Silence stretched between them and she wondered if he had heard her.
“You can’t keep the sweetness out of my name even when you try.”
Her gaze flew to his and she saw the familiar spark in his eyes. The one which lit her up inside and out and made the corner of her lips twitch. Daredevil. She clasped her hands together, pressing the pad of her thumb against the ring. Remember.
“Why are you here?” she asked drily, proud that at least her voice didn’t tremble.
“You know why.”
“You requested me.”
“You have received the documents.”
“And your note.”
“You would have tried to see me and gotten yourself into trouble otherwise.”
“So you decided to make it easier for me by leaving a love-locked message.”
She could hear his grin. He was holding back a chuckle. Damn man. She pursed her lips. If she smiled, she’d be opening a window of opportunity, giving them both hope when there was none.
“Yes. And—” She paused. Here it went. “I just wanted to make it clear that this is strictly business.”
“Yet, you requested me for the mission.”
“What?” she squealed.
“Aslan told me.”
“That’s not how it happened. It has nothing to do with us. I would have requested another but—”
She didn’t reply. Her head pounded as she tried to find a way to get out of the mess she had created. She could almost taste the savory sweetness of hope, stretching between them like an invisible lasso binding them together.
“Killian, you know we can’t be together,” she whispered at length.
“I know, but that’s not what I’m asking. Not today.” His tone was gentle, their roles reversed. One moment, she’d had the upper hand, had been dealing the cards, the next, he’d plucked them out of her hand.
“I simply want to know: why did you request me? Why, Pru?”
About Elyzabeth M. VaLey
Elyzabeth M. VaLey is a writer of sizzling, sexy romance who firmly believes in happy ever after. From paranormal to contemporary, fantasy, or historical, she enjoys exploring her characters’ darker side and writing stories about tortured heroes, strong heroines, and all that comes between them and their love.
When she’s not writing, she can be found walking in the Spanish countryside with her black Lab and Golden Retriever mix, exploring castles, or enjoying some tapas with her friends.
Follow her at:
#MF #BDSM #Billionaire #Romance
He offers freedom.
She fears addiction.
Can Garret coax Lissa to submit to his desire to pleasure her through pain, or will it be her needs that bring him to his knees?
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Jordan knows everyone wants to use him for his family name and wealth.
Natalie is forced to take on the heavy responsibility of a troublesome sibling.
Can Natalie prove to Jordan that the only thing she wants from him is his love and dominance? Or will a misunderstanding cause Jordan to lose the submissive of his dreams?
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Lynn Burke is a full-time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
As a voracious reader herself, Lynn appreciates all of her readers, and hopes she can take them on a journey with her writing.
Listening Time: 1 hour 18 minutes
Narrated by: Jack Calihan
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“…Maybe if you’d executed my first two wishes better I wouldn’t be so strung out.” Wrong thing to say. If I could have punched myself, I would have.
Cleo stiffened, eyes wide. And then they narrowed, and I could almost see the millions of ways she was killing me in her mind right now. I braced myself for a barrage of scorn mixed with profanity. If there was one thing I’d learned about Cleo in the past couple of months, it was that she had an extensive vocabulary of swear words. Not only was her range impressive, it was also interestingly exotic. I was well acquainted with it because it’d been directed at me on the frequent occasions I managed to get her to come out of the pill box. I’d thought I’d heard it all at this point in my life, but she proved me wrong. And somehow, whenever she directed her skill at me, I couldn’t help but feel that every term she used was eminently fitting.
“I’m so sorry you’re dissatisfied with your first two wishes, Master,” she drawled in an uncharacteristically chilly tone that made me shiver. “I shall return to my vessel and spend my time reflecting on how to do better with your third wish.” She turned and moved away from the door.
Fuck. The lack of profanity made me panic. I leapt up the stairs in one bound and grabbed her arm in desperation. If she evaporated back into the box, I’d have a hell of a time getting her to come out again. “Cleo, I’m sorry. Don’t go. I’m an asshole, okay? A dick. I’m—I’m every foul word you’ve called me since we met.”
The skin of her arm was soft beneath my fingers, but the biceps was firm. Did she work out? Would a genie even need to, being able to shapeshift and all? There was a small strange golden tattoo on her arm. I watched, fascinated, as it shifted from a crescent moon, to some intricate round design that reminded me of snowflakes, and then into a symbol of some kind. This close, her scent was warm in my nostrils. It was a mix of jasmine, incense, and something spicy that I had yet to identify. The intoxicating medley had visited me in my dreams more than once.
“Take … your hand … off me.”
The words were spoken slowly and in a deadly acid that had me snatching my hand back as though I’d touched a hot exhaust pipe. She glared up at me and twitched her arm as if to dislodge any germs I’d left on her creamy skin.
“Sorry. So sorry,” I said, my words coming out light and breathy as though I might set off a bomb. I took a half step back from her, lifting my hands in front of me in that universal I’m-not-armed gesture. “Please don’t go,” I pleaded. “I really need your help. Please.”
There were less than three days left for me to make my third wish, and I was desperate not to fuck it up. I’d made the first two rather quickly, and they hadn’t turned out exactly as I’d hoped. Well, no, I can’t say that. I’d gotten exactly what I’d wished for. I was now ridiculously wealthy and famous. The problem was that both of those things had come with a lot of problems, like fleeing from people who were trying to kill me for reasons I had yet to determine. And I really didn’t want to spend the rest of my life using my new, magically-granted resources running, hiding, and generally having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my days. Of course, I could always wish to undo the first two wishes. But who in their right mind would do that? I ran a hand through my hair, and pleaded with her with my eyes.
Cleo made a scoffing noise and raked a critical gaze from my black biker boots, over my favorite well-worn jeans and grey t-shirt, and finally to my face, which no doubt looked more haggard than ever from worry and an overgrown five o’clock shadow. “And why should I help you? Out of the goodness of my heart?”
I scrambled to think of something to say, but my mind was blank. I was a mere human. And before she’d come into my life, I was only doing a passable job at being that. There was nothing I could give her that she couldn’t give herself, not even freedom.
“I can’t think of anything,” I said, feeling deflated. “But maybe you can.” It was a shot in the dark, but worth it. There was a faint glimmer in her caramel-colored eyes that signaled I was on the right track. Inspired, I pushed forward, desperate. “Is there something?”
She relaxed her stance, making hope soar within me. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor as if—No. Could it be?—as if she was reluctant to say it. I closed the gap between us again, feeling bolder, but I didn’t touch her. “Tell me,” I urged in a low voice, fascinated. “I want to know. No, I have to know. What I could possibly give you that you would want?”
About the Author:
Jewel Quinlan is a bestselling paranormal and contemporary romance author. Since her debut in late 2013, she has published sixteen stories and has many more to come. Restless by nature, she is an avid traveler and has visited sixteen countries so far. Lover of ice cream, dark beer, and red wine, she tries to stay fit when she’s not typing madly on her computer drafting another romance novel. In her spare time, she likes to do yoga, hike, learn German, and play with her spoiled Chihuahua, Penny.
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Devil’s Outlaws 4
By Lynn Burke
Publisher: Changeling Press
World-Wide Release Date: August 23, 2019
Reagan “Brewer” de Jager might look soft as a teddy bear, but his stint as a sniper in the SEALs hardened him into a lethal killer. The fact his wife cheated on him while he’d been deployed makes him unable to trust. Cold hearted and empty, he sets his sights on his next mark—and one look into her eyes slays him.
Nova Smego wasn’t nicknamed Black Widow by her CIA superiors without reason. Underestimated for her petite form, she’s quick with her fists and lethal with a blade or a bullet. Tossed out of the CIA with a scarred reputation, she joins a hitmen-for-hire team in the hopes of exacting revenge on the one who ruined her career.
When the Outlaws eliminate her team in order to rescue one of their own, Nova is kept alive—tied to her captor. A winter storm kills the electricity, but not the heat building between her and Brewer. There was a reason he couldn’t end her, and while she plans her escape, she fears losing her heart to the chemistry sizzling between them.
But when Nova’s desire for vengeance shakes the tentative bond between them, the Outlaws issue Brewer an ultimatum. Pull the trigger, or find common ground to trust one another and avoid the Outlaws’ demand for her life.
Changeling Press – 15% sale: https://www.changelingpress.com/brewer-s-mark-devil-s-outlaws-mc-4-b-2912
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/BREWERSMARK
Books2Read Universal: https://books2read.com/brewersmarkdo4
Brewer stood in the doorway, his gaze flitting over my face as he stepped inside my prison.
My heart spasmed — and that damn tingle between my thighs roared to life. I scowled.
Chin tilted up, I held his blue eyed stare, trying to focus on what he’d done, the family he’d taken from me, rather than the arousal he’d woken inside my core.
A twinkle lit his eye and twitched his lips peeking from his full beard — a beard that appeared silky, bringing to mind an image of his dark head between my thighs. Would his facial hair tickle? Scrape and mark my skin?
I swallowed and jerked my focus back up to his eyes, determined to keep silent no matter what he said — or did.
He caved from the silence between us first, expelling a heavy exhale, his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit. “What’s your name?”
His lips quirked as though to smirk, but flat lined. “Bet you got your ass bullied for that name while growing up.”
“I’d rather fuck you.”
My breath caught — and Brewer blinked as though his words had escaped unintended. He stood a few feet in front of me, doing nothing to hide the cock swelling inside his leathers. Long and hard…
The tingle of arousal morphed into pure wetness, dampening my panties in the span of a single breath as we stared at one another, our fogging breaths loud in the stillness.
“Goddamnit.” Brewer scrubbed a hand down over his face and beard while I attempted to swallow the dryness from my throat. He spun and left without another word, leaving my upper body unwrapped.
My arousal kept me warm for all of two minutes before my teeth began to chatter.
Fucking asshole couldn’t handle the sexual tension, the complication of what that brought to our situation. He fled like a pansy-ass.
Better that than rape me…
“Fuck,” I muttered, eyes clenching shut against the thought of him thrusting into my body. My pussy spasmed, deepening my frown. I hadn’t let a man’s dick near me in over three years — and I wasn’t about to let some Stockholm syndrome make me lenient. No matter how fucking hot said man might be.
He’d killed my team, so given the chance, I would kill him.
© Lynn Burke 2018
Bowie’s Angel, Devil’s Outlaws MC 1: http://mybook.to/BowiesAngel
Gunner’s Flame, Devil’s Outlaws MC 2: http://mybook.to/GUNNERSFLAME
Austin’s Ward, Devil’s Outlaws MC 3: http://mybook.to/AUSTINSWARD
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.