What has the power to make you want to survive? Discover in THANOS, releasing January 26th from Ella Frank!
Series: Masters Among Monsters #3 Publication Date: January 26th, 2017Genre: Paranormal Romance
CHARMED FOR LIFE?
Thanos Agapiou has always been a charmer. For over two millennia, the vampire had no problem acquiring whom and what he wanted with a flash of his handsome smile. He took for granted the boyish good looks he presumed he’d possess for the rest of eternity.
How very wrong he was.
A nearly fatal attack distorted his entire existence. With his appearance now matching the title many have bestowed their kind—monster—he hides away from the world and all of those who know him, including his Ancient, Eton.
Until one night when a stranger draws him out from the shadows.
OR CURSED FOR ETERNITY?
Ever since Paris Antoniou was thrust into a world of vampires, his reality has become stranger than the history and the myths he’s studied for the past decade.
When he learns the truth about his origins and the power he wields, his confusion and fear have him running for his life. What he doesn’t expect is to run into the arms of Thanos—a vampire who doesn’t intimidate him as much as he intrigues him.
WHAT HAS THE POWER TO MAKE YOU WANT TO SURVIVE?
As their worlds collide under extraordinary circumstances, an attraction neither can deny takes hold. But will that be enough to save Thanos from his demons, or will he condemn Paris to his fate?
Destinies have been changed. Lines have been crossed. And, with tales of the vampire race coming to an end, who will make the ultimate sacrifice?
After all, in a world run by vampires and gods, only one can be the true Master among the Monsters.
And The Blood Shall Run…
LONG AGO, THE Ancients of the vampire race searched for, and created, the one they wished to walk alongside for all eternity—their first-sired. They shared with them their blood, knowledge, and power. Thus creating a complex relationship where the first-sired’s existence integrated and tangled with the very being who made them, solidifying them as one.
Only three such connections exist within the vampiric hierarchy.
One born out of lust.
One born out of loneliness.
And the final born out of need.
As Eton, Ancient of Thanos Agapiou, walked away from where his progeny had sequestered himself with another, the steel-like binding of calm that his first-sired’s presence had once afforded unraveled and snapped like a chain severed. His permanent absence was now the only thing he had left to offer his Thanos to counter his ultimate betrayal. And he knew by giving it exactly what fate he had just sealed for himself.
After all this time, and Thanos’s strict control throughout the centuries, Eton had almost forgotten the allure of that which now stirred to life inside of him. But as the desperate, soul-searing need for destruction clawed for freedom, he recalled the reason for the desperate measures he’d taken the last time this transformation had occurred. Because without Thanos by his side, the infection that afflicted him threatened the very existence of his kind.
It was bound to happen. Just as it had once before. Tonight had been the final cut, but the distance, the separation, that had begun nights before when Thanos had demanded his absence…
“STAY WHERE YOU are. Do not come any closer.”
“I said do not come any closer.”
Eton stopped where he was, obeying Thanos’s words, as he always did. “Let me talk to you.”
“I do not want to talk,” Thanos spat. “Especially not with you.”
The venom in those words stung.
“I said no. You will at least grant me the simple courtesy of your absence, since I am already to endure an eternity of torment you have inflicted.”
Determined to get through to the angry male across from him, Eton pushed on. “It won’t ail you forever. You will soon heal—”
“Heal?” Thanos thundered as he rounded on Eton.
Eton schooled his earnest features, but he was a millisecond too late.
“You cannot even look at me without flinching. Do not talk to me of healing. This”—Thanos pointed to his scarred face—“this will never heal.”
He was right. Eton knew that, though his appearance didn’t matter to him. When he looked at Thanos, all he saw was his first-sired.
The private lives of the Ancients were rarely discussed. To Vasilios and Diomêdês, their first-sired represented the ones they’d chosen to take under their wing. Someone to share their eternal existence with and ones who would follow them, be loyal to them, and obey.
His and Thanos’s relationship was not that way at all. They kept their bond hidden, and for him, Thanos was the one who owned him—the one who calmed everything that ran riot inside him. O kýriós tou. His master.
“You don’t mean—”
“I said. Get. Out.”
ETON STAGGERED TO a halt halfway down the hall, and raised a hand to steady himself against the wall. The memory of that night was as vivid now as it was back then, and it had brought with it something far more dangerous than a disconnect between an Ancient and his first-sired.
His teeth tingled, wanting to punch free, and the skin around his lips drew painfully taut. It had been so many centuries since he’d sensed the dark presence within that the force in which it begun to resurface was overwhelming. He needed to get back to the sanctuary of his bedchambers. Back to the one place where he could lock himself inside and use magic to ensure his captivity—if only he could focus long enough to get there. He was grateful that no one was there to witness his undoing.
Eton’s hand shook as he dug his fingertips into the stone until they bled. He needed that bite of pain, since Thanos wasn’t there to offer it, that sting to distract himself from the other, more pressing needs rising up inside of him. As it was, there was no way he’d be able to concentrate long enough to fade while this ugliness was fighting for dominance. His body trembled under his effort to control himself, and just when he thought he had a chance in hell of grasping its leash, Kronos, one of Alasdair’s newlings, came around the far end of the hall.
Eton’s nostrils flared as he scented the male who’d come to a standstill like a deer in the brightest of headlights. As if he sensed the immediate peril he’d unknowingly stumbled upon, Kronos looked around, trying to locate anyone else as he swallowed. Eton heard the reaction as if it were his own, and lowered his eyes to the ground before digging his fingers deeper into the shale under his palm.
“Eton, my Lord,” Kronos said. “I was just coming to—”
“Run,” Eton interrupted, and the low pitch of his voice was not only a warning to this young vampire, but a fucked-up request from the other side of him. The monstrous side.
Eton raised his head, and when his eyes, which he knew now would be blood red, met Kronos’s, the vampire took a step back, as if realizing just how much danger he was in.
“Run,” Eton said once again, and this time his voice sounded as though it had been grated over the sharpest, most jagged of edges. It was hoarse, torn, and so foreign that Eton was as stunned as Kronos that it had come from him.
“I…I was coming to check on Thanos,” Kronos said, and then stopped talking when he noted the change that had begun. Eton knew exactly what the young male was seeing. It was a sight only three others had ever borne witness to—and survived.
Kronos’s fangs dropped down in an automatic response to the threat metamorphosing before him. There was shock stamped over his pale features, his entire body trembled, and as he inched away, Eton caught the movement and flashed over in front of the male. His hand jerked out and his bloodied fingertips gripped Kronos’s throat in a punishing hold as he hauled him up and in line with what was a distorted version of the face he wore as Eton. “I told you to run.”
Kronos opened his mouth to respond, but his protestation was never heard. Eton’s fist slammed through the male’s breastbone, and a harsh wheeze expelled from between Kronos’s lips. The cracking and splintering of his ribs only heightened the pleasure Eton’s monster thrived on as he took a hold of the heart within the vampire’s chest cavity and squeezed. As Eton’s fingers sank into the cold organ, Kronos’s eyes widened.
“Yes,” Eton hissed. “You are finally seeing why… Why I told you to flee. Aren’t you, neare?”
“But…” Kronos gasped. “But…why? What are you?”
Eton’s nails extended from each finger with painful precision. But where vampire’s nails were known to extend to pointed tips, his curled into sharp, talon-like claws that scraped the delicate membrane surrounding Kronos’s heart.
“I am daimon, Kronos. A hellish monster that should have been eliminated many years ago. I am a reminder of what dwells within us all.”
Kronos shook his head, and Eton could hear his frenzied thoughts. What’s wrong with him? This isn’t Eton. He’s the calm one. He won’t kill me…
He was right in one sense—Eton wouldn’t kill him. He had made it his mission to be as genteel and accommodating as could be over the years between the last time this happened and now. But…he was no longer thinking as Eton.
As the turmoil inside Eton swirled to a frenzied height of consciousness, he twisted his gnarled hand and then tore it from Kronos’s chest, ripping the vampire’s heart from his body. When the male went limp in his grasp, Eton dropped him to the floor and brought the heart to his nose, where he took a deep inhale.
The demon reveled in its victory as it slowly slithered back to the cracks within his soul, and then he let the organ roll from his palm and land by its lifeless owner at his feet.
His claws retracted and his body twitched as he came back to himself, and as he stood in the silent catacomb of the hall, the realization of what he’d just done slammed into him. Eton turned his hands over to see the scarlet liquid staining his pale skin, and reveled in the thrill it gave him.
Ever so slowly, he raised his hand to his mouth and licked a path along his bloodied fingers, and the red haze of the creature roared to life, threatening to take full control once more.
The metallic thunk of a lock sounded, catching his attention, and when his name was called, Eton realized he must’ve let that roar free. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and was stunned to see that Thanos had come out into the hall.
Ever since his disfigurement, Thanos had refused to leave his chambers. But even with the dark hood on and the half-face skull mask he’d asked for, Eton would know the set of those broad shoulders anywhere. Not to mention the sheer height of him.
Thanos’s blue eyes shifted to the lifeless body by Eton’s feet, and when he raised them once again, Eton knew the vampire understood what had just happened out there.
Before Thanos could say anything more, though, Eton snarled and took delight in the way Thanos backed up. Oh yes, as one of the few who remotely understood the hideous thing inside of him, Thanos knew exactly the kind of danger he was in, and the flare of his irises was a dead giveaway that he knew he was the cause of it.
That’s right, kyrie mou, Eton shoved into Thanos’s mind. You wanted your freedom. You wanted Eton to leave. And we both know that is the only way this can now end.
And with that, the Ancient who was once Eton faded from the hall.
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About the Author:
Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction and lives with her husband in Portland, OR. You can reach her on the web at www.ellafrank.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ella.frank.authorSome of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.
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Coming February 13th
For three years, I've belonged to Julius King.
Some people would think being stuck on a private island is heaven, but this is my hell.
Because I'm not here as a guest. Not even close. I'm a prisoner. I'm his.
Julius King. Powerful. Wealthy. Dangerous.
There are parts of me he wants that I can't give him. When he looks at me, there are times I swear he sees someone else. And the scary part is that sometimes, when he touches me, I think he may be someone else, too.
Though my body might be tempted, and he might control everything else, I can't let him have any piece of my heart. I won't. But every day, the fight gets harder, and Julius manages to slip past my defenses in the most unexpected ways.
I have to find out the truth about Julius King. Even if it destroys me.
This book is approximately 81,000 words
One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you're looking for with an HEA/HFN. It's a promise! Find out more at CarinaPress.com/RomancePromise
A twig creaks. I jerk upright in the swing seat, where that day has been rolling through my mind like a snippet of a movie reel that’s been hacked to pieces, then glued back together.
Him—the reason I’ve spent the last three years in this tropical Caribbean prison.
Leaves crunch. He wants me to hear him coming. Julius enjoys anticipation.
I brush my dress over my knees. Pale blue chiffon picks up with the breeze. “Hello, Julius.”
“Good morning, baby.” He reaches my side and bends down and plants his lips on my cheek.
My eyes close for an instant. His kiss is deceptively warm, but then, hell is warm, no surprise the devil should be too.
“I’ve brought you something.”
The bitterness of his cologne coats my breaths. Like everything about him it’s a bit too much.
He leans closer, his watch right by my face.
Tick, tick, tick.
One tick to every two of my heartbeats.
He lays a rolled-up newspaper in my lap. I don’t open the paper.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
Not a question, but then, nothing he says ever is.
My gaze collides with his. It’s like looking into the wind, makes me want to blink and look away.
“We’re having guests.” The corners of his eyes wrinkle. “I’m trusting you’ll be polite company.”
“Have I ever been anything else?”
He smiles his serpent smile and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No, you’re perfect.”
I’d bite him, but he has a nice firm grip on my lady-balls, and he knows it.
Leverage. He has it—I don’t.
It’s the reason why, even if I could escape, even if he didn’t control all transport on and off the island, I’d still stay.
Everything here is in his control, even me.
Except for one thing.
I smile back at him, a real smile. There’s something I have that he doesn’t. Something that makes me want to gloat. Captivity has made me petty.
“Thanks.” I keep that satisfaction inside.
There’s a reason visitors make me giddy. There’s one thing I know that Julius doesn’t. There’s something that gives me hope.
“Dinner’s at five.” He releases my chin.
His sharp gaze disappears under the aviator sunglasses he slides over the bridge of his nose. I watch him leave, and wait until he’s rounded the corner to the house.
Only when he’s completely out of sight, I unwind the newspaper. He gives me many gifts, and on Fridays it’s always this. A weekly recap of a world moving along without me. It’s been rolled for too long and tries to curl back in on itself. I scan the headlines, flicking through the features and articles. Royals got married. A celebrity named their baby something that’ll plague the poor kid for the rest of eternity. Politicians broke election promises and sports happened. I circle back through the paper, trying to suck in this one taste of the outside world I ever get.
I scan one more time, pausing over my horoscope. “Do you really require the messages your forecast reveals? You have all the answers the cosmos can provide. Connect with your intuitive—”
I sigh and turn the page. What happened to the days when I could rely on the little strip in the back of the paper to tell me something useful, or at least hopeful—like to expect a tall dark stranger to sweep me off my feet? Please bring back that astrologer now. As much as I like my feet rooted in the dirt, I’ve spent the last three years praying for the stranger.
Some small clue.
Now not even my fortune can be bothered pretending to reveal a sign. I close the paper, and fold it in half. Run my finger over the date.
My finger stills. I can’t move it from the number. I don’t want to see. Math was never my subject but I get this math right away.
I drag my finger aside.
I have exactly one month left until the first of October. The ticking in my head clicks louder than his watch had.
I’m almost out of time.
* * *
For a man with a fully staffed private island, it’s surprising the things Julius insists on doing himself. He likes to cook. More specifically, he likes to barbecue. Fat hisses on the grill. My tongue moistens despite myself. The empty plate in front of me seems bigger, somehow more empty. No one does meat like Julius.
He’s a master of flesh.
I’ve seen him butcher a calf himself. Make his own sausage, hang and cure charcuterie. I’ve watched him massage salt into a whole pig with his hands—impale lambs for the spit.
Today his table is full. So the barbecue will be too.
Unfortunately, I know all the faces crowding the twelve-seat outdoor setting. None of them are ones I care to see. Next to me, Dan pops the lid on a beer. His third. Don’t know why he bothers, it’s nonalcoholic. Not that Dan doesn’t enjoy his drink. I’ve seen the man stumble back to the table with piss on his jeans when he’s “off duty,” which isn’t often. Even off duty, Julius’s Men are always Julius’s Men.
And Julius likes his men and his muscle sober.
I glance at him briefly. He’s so big it’s heinous. Yet, for a guy who occasionally pisses on himself, I’ve seen those thick arms move quick enough to shoot a glass out of a person’s hands as they’re drinking. Unlike Julius, this snake doesn’t cover its scales. He wears jeans, and T-shirts that leave enough skin bare to let everyone know exactly how much time he’s done. Some days, if he’s had to stay over unexpectedly, when he lifts his arm to take a swig of his nonalcoholic beer, the odor alone is enough to knock a person dead.
No disguises, he’s a thug.
Julius lifts a T-bone with the prongs of his meat fork, then drops it onto the grill. A wave of smoke drifts over us. I wave my hand in front of my face, then reach for a glass of orange juice. The tang cleanses my palate. Sweet, and full of pulp I have to chew. Fresh-squeezed by Pa, the elderly man sitting two seats from me on the left. The seat between Pa and me remains empty. I set the juice next to the glass of wine beside my plate, untouched as always.
“Potato?” Dan hands me the stainless-steel bowl filled to the brim with potato salad. I take the bowl but pass it past Pa, who I know full well doesn’t believe in mayonnaise, to Leo.
Leo, Julian’s younger muscle, takes the potato salad without looking. He knows his eyes don’t belong on me. All of them do.
Almost all of them.
Julius joins us at the table with a platter full of meat. He serves his guests first. Jack Connelly and his five “brothers.” Then me. He lays a steak on my plate. Rib eye. Meat of the day is T-bone, but I have rib eye. My favorite, cooked medium how I like it. He’s never asked me to choose a cut, never asked me how well I prefer meat cooked, but he knows.
He had my tastes figured out in the first month. I can’t begin to think what he’s learned about me in three years.
“Thank you,” I say.
I give him only detached politeness. Formality. While he figures out my personal tastes, I figure out how little I can give him before he feels the need to reel me closer.
It’s a game—push-pull-push.
Julius always being the pusher.
He dishes up meat to his men, Dan, Leo, Pa and the new guy. I don’t look at the new guy. He hasn’t learned the rules yet and frankly I’ve got no desire to watch him bleed, despite the fact that if he’s working for Julius, he most likely has it coming.
The table’s split six to six.
Julius prefers things that way—even.
Even or in his favor.
He places a dripping steak on his own plate, then puts the meat tray in the center of the table with the mountains of other food.
My spine creaks more than his chair when he sits.
Dan used to sit where I’m sitting. Before I “came along.” Now I sit here, on Julius’s right. Yep, I’m his right-hand girl. I’ve brought nothing to this table, contributed nothing, but here I sit at his right.
I stretch for the garlic butter, and fork a large knob on top of the rib eye. You can bet your sweet ass I don’t hold back on that stuff. Never know when a girl might need a little garlic breath on her side. Male voices laugh and boom across the table, joining a chorus of scraping knives and clinking glasses.
They don’t speak to me, so I don’t speak either.
One of them, the stupid new one, watches me, though. He’s careful. Only glancing at me for a heartbeat or two before moving on.
But I don’t miss that throbbing pause. If he’s not careful, neither will Julius. He’s too stupid to live, that one. I make new guy a black spot in my vision. Don’t see him. Don’t hear him. When I look around the table, it’s like that chair is vacant.
“Something wrong with your steak, baby?”
The voices around us dull. Everything grows quieter when Julius speaks.
I set down my fork, one untouched morsel on the tines. “It’s a little overdone.”
It’s not, it’s perfect. No steak would ever suffer overcooking in Julius’s care. I don’t smirk. By some divine miracle the satisfaction stays under wraps.
“You should have said something.” He leans closer, leans right over me. “You know I’ll always take care of you.” His voice is low, dropped down to some husky key that seems to be reserved solely for me. My breath hiccups. Yes, he takes care of me. Every single moment of every single day. It’s Julius who feeds me. He who clothes me. He who keeps me safe.
He who can take all away.
He drags the steak off my plate with his fork, and tosses it onto the grass with a sharp swing of his arm. Not on a plate or in the bin, onto the lawn that looks as though it’s been trimmed by a thousand leprechauns with nail clippers, not a blade out of place.
Julius did that. Julius, who likes everything just so.
My pulse pounds in my ears like it’s trying to tell me something. I’ve heard this same thudding warning for years.
Watch out, watch out, watch out.
My heart doesn’t seem to realize I never stopped doing just that.
He cuts his T-bone, then scoops half up. Blood drips in the space between us. He drops the cut on my plate. So rare it’s almost blue.
I stare at his arm.
His shirtsleeves are rolled up, his right arm exposed to the elbow. That’s the benefit of sitting on his right. I get his clean side. Don’t have to stare at the evil thing on his neck. Dark hairs run down his forearm to his wrist, growing finer as they bridge the top of his hand. I wonder how far I’d get if I rammed my fork in that arm—right in his wrist joint—if I just lodged it right in there...
How long would it take for him to reach for the gun at his side?
How far could I get?
To the dock, maybe, with the help of a little adrenaline? Before Danny boy got to me. Before I remembered that every way off this island is Julius’s.
Before I remembered the other things keeping me here.
“Happy?” There’s that soft personal tone again, and it’s impossible not to hear. Impossible not to catch the switch when he speaks to me.
I look at him, something like a smile biting the corners of my lips. “Thank you, Julius.”
He turns back to his guests. The Connellys all sit together on the other side of the table. Jack Connelly in the middle. If Jack is here, it means one thing—today’s business is guns.
The kind Julius carries around tucked in the back of his pants.
Until I met him, I’d never seen a handgun.
I’d seen plenty of shotguns. At home even our gardener walked around with one on his back. Growing up, I thought everyone who worked on acreage carried a shotgun. Dad told me they were for snakes. Yet, in all my years, I never saw a single snake.
But then, there were a lot of men with a lot of guns on our ranch to keep them at bay.
Now I know they were always waiting for a different kind of snake.
After spending years imagining fictional adventures, Amber finally found a way to turn daydreaming into a productive habit. She now spends her time in a coffee-fuelled adrenaline haze, writing romance with a thriller edge.
She lives with her husband and children in semi-rural Australia, where if she peers outside at the right moment she might just see a kangaroo bounce by.
Amber is an award winning writer, Amazon Bestselling Author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild, and Writers Victoria.
Coming November 18th
After the dust settles on the most erotic night in her life, a fantasy-fulfilling experience that not only brought Sam back to life, but also laid her brutal demons to rest. Her lust for life returns with her irrepressible passion and she embraces the changes in her life, almost without reservation…almost.
Jason Sinclair is just the Dominant to take a woman like Sam on. She’s fearless and feisty, but when she lost herself, he nearly lost her all over again. By giving her that one night, he became more than her savior…he became her everything. Opening her up to what the future could hold with a potential life of hedonistic heaven together.
Or could one fantasy have been too far? Can the two super kinky souls really settle down together?
As much as Sam dreams of a happily ever after, she’s much too realistic and can’t seem to shake the dark clouds of doubt rolling in. Is the promise of domestic bliss bound to be cursed from day one or does the King of Kink have more tricks up his sleeve?
“Mmm.” She moans and arches her body into a decent stretch given the confines of the R8 interior. “Are we there yet?” She yawns and pulls her legs into a hold, wrapping her arms around her knees and shifting onto her side to face me.
“What are you…four?” I mock.
“I didn’t say…’Are we there yet Dad?’ She pouts and wrinkles her nose. She has soft pink lines on her face, crumpled skin from a heavy sleepy head against her shoulder. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and it’s all I can do to keep from swerving off the road. She looks edible.
“Oh beautiful, you can call me Daddy if you want, but I’m always gonna prefer Sir.” My voice drips with sensual meaning.
“I prefer Sir.” Her sultry, soft tone I feel, like a direct hit in my balls. I push my head back into the headrest and straighten my arms, my fingers tighten on the wheel. Subtle instant reactions that make her giggle. I try and shift in my seat to ease the painful ache from my now rock hard cock.
“Sorry.” She sucks in her lips and fails to look even vaguely apologetic.
“No you’re not.” I groan when her hand reaches over and rubs the material stretched taut over my shaft.
“Not remotely, but I am more than happy to help.” She slips the seatbelt, so it is only wrapped across her waist, and she slinks across the centre of the car, like a super sexy feline. I lift my left arm to make room. Christ my balls feel like they are ready to explode and she hasn’t even loosened my buckle. Oh now she has…shit!
“Sam…I don’t think this is a really good idea.” My voice catches and I try and swallow the sudden dryness in my mouth.
“Really? I think this is a great idea. Besides…” Her warm breath sears the fibres on my pants, her head hovers as she deftly releases my erection into her waiting hand. ‘Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Holy. Fucking Shiiii…Ah! Oh yes that…do that again!” I swallow back a choking cough and let the most amazing feeling radiate through my body unchecked. She has her fist tight around the base but her mouth covers the engorged end and she swallows me down like I really am the best meal of the day. I can feel the muscles in her throat and I fight the urge to jerk my hips forward. The back of her head keeps nudging the bottom of the steering wheel as it is. Her tongue does this thing where she slides and wraps it around my , all the while drawing me deeper into her mouth, until I am touching the back of her throat. She pauses only to catch a breath before she swallows me further. God this feels fucking amazing. I know I’m not all in, her hand is taking over where her mouth is physically unable…at least at this angle.
I am counting backwards in Italian just to try and not think about losing control. But when she releases my cock and her lips instantly wrap around one of my balls, I swerve the car onto the hard shoulder and into the police only waiting area. I’d rather get arrested than die and she is fucking killing me here. Her head pops up and I slip from her swollen lips.
“Problem?” Her devious smile is all faux innocence.
“No problem.” I am impressed I maintain a level voice and a steady exhale. “There will be though if you don’t get your fucking jeans off and ride me till I come.” Her pink cheeks flush a little redder, her eyes darken with pure passion and her slim throat takes a deep slow swallow.
Now I’ve changed my mind.
“Wait… No time, just finish what you started Beautiful.” I thread my hand into what’s left of her messy bun and pull her back into position. Her eyes meet mine and flash with mirrored desire before bending over millimetres from my aching erection.
“Yes Sir.” She exhales a breathy sigh with her words. which scorch the wetness seeping from my tip. Her tongue is quick to take the moisture and her lips quickly follow. She sinks quickly onto my length and eager to please she almost swallows me whole.
“Fuuuuuck!” Every muscle in my backside tenses and I grip the steering wheel like it is my only anchor to Earth. One of her hands pumps the base of my cock that makes my spine tingle from top to tip, she palms my balls with her other hand, and her magic tongue is driving me insane tracing the pulsing vein from the very bottom of me to the sensitive top. She tilts her head to flash me a wicked grin and smiles wide pulling her lips free and exposing her bright white, straight, and from memory, surprisingly sharp, teeth. I suck in a sharp breath and brace myself. I fucking hate teeth.
But there are no teeth and I don’t know whether to sigh with relief, or growl with irritation. I do neither because her heavenly mouth takes me as far as her breath will allow, she swallows repeatedly and I explode down her eager throat. My stomach muscles spasm from the intensity of my release and I take a few moments to draw in enough air to compose myself. She softly licks me clean and even though I am not remotely soft she expertly tucks my cock back in its cotton cage. Crawling back to her seat, she faces me. Her eyes never leave mine, even as she slowly wipes her wet lips with the back of her hand and proceeds to lick that clean like a kitty. Damn that is the sexiest thing… next to what she has just done, that is.
I reach my hand out and cup the back of her head drawing her forcefully to my waiting kiss. I press hard, the taste of me fresh but faint on her lips, but her taste is intoxicating, and I can’t get enough. I twist my body and try to drag her from her seat when we both freeze. The car fills with a sudden bright blue light and a piercing siren screams a brief but effective interruption. Sam’s eyes, wide at first, transform into an impossibly huge grin once the initial shock has faded.
“Uh-oh someone’s in trouble.” She wiggles her brows playfully and I fire a scowl, with no anger intended at her. She starts to giggle.
“Oh someone’s in lots of trouble, but lets get out of this first shall we?” My tone is slightly reprimanding.
“We? You’re the one who pulled over into a police only wait zone.” She bites her lips to stop full blown hysterical laughter as a figure appears at my window.
“Because a ticket is better than death…although—” I muse and press the window to open. I greet the officer and catch a quick glance at Sam. Her mouth drops at my fluent French. I pulled the car over just south of the Belgium border with the Netherlands. This country is one of the few that are trilingual, speaking Dutch, German and lucky for me, French. The officer is stern and a series of explanations and questions later he gives me a warning but not a ticket I shut the window when he tries to take another peek inside at my flushed faced fiancée.
I pull smoothly back into the traffic but keep to a sensible speed as the police car has pulled out right behind and is currently tailing me.
“You speak French?” Her clipped tone makes her question sound more like an accusation.
“What can I say…I’m very good with my tongue.” She blurts out a loud laugh mixed with an uncontrolled snort that sends her into a fit of giggles. I adore that sound almost as much as the little moans and sighs.
Dee Palmer hates talking about herself in the third person so I won’t. My husband had my iPod engraved one Christmas with ‘sing like no-one’s listening’ and I know my family actually wish they weren’t listening because I am, in fact, tone deaf but it doesn’t stop me and this gentle support has enabled me to fulfil a dream. This has been a truly brilliant experience, I wrote The Choices Trilogy back to back and released them this year just one month apart...Don't you hate waiting for the next book in a series? The entire process has undoubtedly been made possible by my incredibly supportive family. I know this is very much an acknowledgment but I know I wouldn’t be writing even this single paragraph if it wasn’t for them so this is about who I am, I am because they let me be.
“What do you want?” I slump down on the couch, still eyeing her.
“About ground rules.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It won’t take long,” she adds as she catches my alarmed glance. “Now that it’s clear we’re expected to share this apartment, we need to
“The answer is no.” I jump to my feet again. “I didn’t come here to be told by a woman what I can or can’t do.”
“But—" She leans forward and her frown deepens. “—you haven’t heard me out yet.”
“True. But you see, I know what women want from me, and the answer is no. Are you done?” I make a point to take a step toward the door.
To be honest, I’m enjoying myself. I enjoy winding her up.
Her face distorts into anger, just as I expected. “That’s so sexist of you. You have no idea what I’ll ask of you.”
“Believe it or not, I do. You’ll want what all other women want.”
“Again, so sexist. But you’re wrong.”
No woman has ever called me a sexist. “What are you saying?”
“You got it all wrong,” she repeats.
I take a step toward her, my gaze buried in her blazing eyes. “Let me prove that I’m right. If I make a correct guess, I want you to go out with me.”
Shock crosses her features. I can see it in the way her eye widen the moment her mind processes the meaning of my words. At last, she leans back, the shock replaced with surprise. “You want to go out with me?”
Surprise and complete disbelief.
What’s so hard to believe that yes, I’d take her out to dinner and then I’d rock both the bed and her world?
“Yes,” I say slowly.
She frowns. “Why?”
“To get to know you better.” Among many things.
“We barely met half a hour ago.”
“That’s correct.” I’ve taken out women I knew for less than ten minutes, so half an hour is pretty long for me.
She frowns again, and her confusion deepens. “I don’t get it. Why would you ask me?”
“Because you’d like it.” Not just dinner, but everything else I have to offer.
“You don’t know me well enough to say that I’d like it or you.” She bites down on her lip. “I honestly don’t know why you’d ask me. Besides, there’s nowhere to go really. If you’re familiar with the renovation plans, you surely know that everything within a mile is closed.”
My smile turns into a grin. She hasn’t said no yet.
To be more precise, she’s absolutely not adverse to the idea, and she doesn’t seem to know about the “don’t fuck other patients” rule either.
“Is that the only thing you’re concerned about? That I won’t find a suitable place to take you out?”
“No.” She leans back and flips a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I’ve got another one for you. How about: my boyfriend’s waiting for me at home.”
She’s playing the boyfriend card. Haven’t heard this one in a while.
“A boyfriend I really love and never want to hurt,” she adds, her eyes challenging me. “I appreciate the offer, though. I’m sure you mean well, but really, no, thanks, I can’t.”
My lips twitch. She eyes me with mistrust. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m just playing with you,” I say. “Even if I wanted to, we couldn’t date. There are way too many rules here. Dating a fellow addict breaks a couple of them.”
She frowns as she processes my words. “Rules?”
“You didn’t know?” My smile widens at her alarmed expression.
Can Vicky stay away from the one man who seems so easy to get and so hard to keep?
Love Addicts Anonymous Releases November 7th!
Add to your TBR: http://bit.ly/2f63i0H
Kade Wright is an expert in rocking any woman's world.
Sexy, rich, and the type you don’t bring home to meet your mother, he has broken more hearts than he can remember, and there is no end in sight. Until one mistake lands him in boiling hot waters. When his company orders him to the LOVE ADDICTS ANONYMOUS Rehab Center, he better get his affairs in order or else he loses his seat on the company board.
Love isn’t supposed to be addictive. But for Vicky Sullivan it is.
A true romantic at heart, she comes with a bit of a stalking tendency, and is completely not adverse to commitment. But who’s Kade to judge? As someone who’s seeking commitment and afraid of never finding love, she’s the type of woman he wouldn’t usually hit on. Except, she’s hot and keeps avoiding him…yes, even after seeing his private parts naked in all their glory.
Kade isn’t known as the tall, dark and ruthless businessman for no reason. Romance isn’t in the air, more like wild between the sheets action with no expectations. Vicky’s convinced she can resist, but Kade has other plans for her.
Meet J.C. Reed
J.C. Reed is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She writes steamy contemporary romance with a touch of mystery and suspense. When she's not typing away on her keyboard, forgetting the world around her, you can find her chatting with her readers on Facebook.
GOODREADS / FACEBOOK / WEBSITE / PRIVATE FAN GROUP
Meet Jackie Steele
Jackie Steele is a USA Today Bestselling author and a true romantic at heart. By day she works a boring job as a scientist, at night she lets her creative side roam free. Whether reading or writing, Jackie loves dark, emotional stories that twist with your head and take you on a journey. As an ever romantic, she believes in happy endings and true love in all forms, which is reflected in all of her books.
FACEBOOK / WEBSITE
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Her tone is playful and gives me hope. And I need hope. Not to score with her, but to get through my days. “You should join me in the shower.” I waggle my eyebrows at her and rub my hand over my abs, pushing up my shirt a little so she can see what’s underneath. Kim shakes her head, but her smile tells me that she likes the idea. She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh, and I chuckle.
In Blow, the start of an emotionally charged series from bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin, an insatiable heartthrob gets blinded by the spotlight—and learns to fight for love.
Meet the complicated men behind the sexiest boy band in America! Releasing November 8th!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2eshtA8
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2eDFS3e
Bodhi McKnight has always had everything handed to him on a silver platter: fame, success, money, girls. The raven-haired, blue-eyed hottie is the son of Hollywood A-listers, and when he’s asked to join the boy band Virtuous Paradox, his star shoots even higher. But so do expectations, leading Bodhi down a destructive path of addiction—until a drop-dead gorgeous guardian angel shows him her sizzling brand of tough love.
When Bodhi ends up in rehab, he doesn’t expect to meet someone as cool and down-to-earth as Kimberly Gordon. Although he’s enjoyed the company of beautiful, charming women before, none of them have tried to get to know the “real” Bodhi. But Kimberly isn’t fazed by his stardom. She’d rather go horseback riding, teach Bodhi to play guitar, or ask him about his feelings. Soon Bodhi realizes he’s fallen head over heels for her. He just hopes that he’s strong enough to protect what they have from all the pressures and temptations of the outside world.
Includes a special message from the editor, as well as an excerpt from another Loveswept title.
Originally from the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup and a Highland West/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL and her brother, Racicot.
When she isn't writing one of the many stories planned for release, you'll find her sitting court-side during either daughter's basketball games
Heidi's first novel, Forever My Girl, is currently in production to be a major motion picture.
NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author
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Meeting him was a fluke. Dating him was a mistake. Watching him become a drug addict put me through hell. Running was my only option.
I'm running from my demons and when I find out she's trying to escape her past, I know what I have to do.
One broken cop. One woman fighting for her life. A fragile love.
Sinister secrets that threaten to tear them apart.
They've been to hell. The hard part will be finding their way back together.
Releasing October 31, 2016
I pull up in my driveway looking over at the house. What I see pisses me off.
Here she is in a long-sleeved shirt, long pants, hat and glasses pushing a brand new lawn mower.
I make sure I check my temper before I walk over. Right before I cross the street the little girl on the front porch stops me mid step.
She looks like just like her mother, just a smaller version. She is sitting on a plastic little table, that they probably just bought, coloring.
I make my way over to her right when the lawn mower goes off
“I told you I would cut the grass.” I try to sound casual, but the blood in me is boiling, it must be ninety-five degrees outside and she’s wearing enough clothes for a trek across the frozen tundra.
She looks up “I also said I got it, and I would be doing it myself.” The little girl from the porch makes it to her mother and hides behind her, yanking on her pant leg.
The fearful look that she gives me is just like her mother’s. I crouch down, getting eye-to-eye with her and say “Hey there, beautiful. What’s your name?” She doesn’t reply, and instead she lowers her gaze so she is looking at her feet. “I’m Jackson,” I reach out my hand, but drop it when I know she won’t take it. I gesture behind me, as I say “I live in that house right over there. I used to know your great grandma.” I’m trying to draw her into a conversation with me, but nothing I say engages her.
“It’s ok baby, you can tell him your name. Nan used to make him cookies, so you know what that means, she must have really liked him.” She rubs her daughters shoulder.
“I’m Lilah,” she says in barely a whisper.
“That is the most beautiful name in the whole wide world. You’re lucky to have such a beautiful name.” She smiles at me, right as a car back fires. She yells and puts her hands to her ears.
Two things happen at the same time, her mother grabs her and runs toward the house, and I vow to protect them.
“Wait,” I rush after them and make it right to the door before it’s closed in my face. I stand there inside the house and watch them rushing to the corner and hide.
Two broken girls protecting each other against some monster of the outside world. I walk up to them “It’s ok, it’s just a car, it was nothing but a car.”
“Lilah, baby it’s ok, it’s ok. I’m here. It’s ok baby girl, were safe.” She is trying to comfort the little girl who is sobbing quietly in her mother arms. “No one is here baby.”
She looks over at me, our eyes meeting for one minute before she lowers them again.
“Look it’s ok, it’s just Jackson. There is no one here, baby.” She rocks Lilah back and forth. Her back against the wall while she soothes her baby girl whose sobs are slowly stopping, her eyes closing.
“What can I do?” I’m now sitting in front of her not sure how to even start to dissect this.
“Nothing, you can’t do anything for us,” she kisses Lilah’s head. “No one can.”
I ignore that last part not sure how to talk about this now.
“I’m going to go outside and finish cutting the grass, then I’m going to go pick up some food for us. Does she like pizza?”
“Jackson, I don’t know what relationship you had with my grandmother, but I don’t need your help. We will be fine. Please, it’s ok, you can leave.” She rests her head on the the wall closing her eyes, the defeat of the day leaving her body.
“I’m going to go outside and finish mowing the lawn so Lilah doesn’t have to go outside anymore today. Then I’m going to pick up pizza for myself. You won’t have time to cook, so I’m going to pick one up for you. I want to eat with you guys, but I’m not pushing myself on you either after today. Now I don’t want to fight with you or even discuss this, so just nod that you understand?”
She looks into my eyes, but nods yes.
“I can pay you for the pizza? I have money. I don’t need a hand out,” she says while trying to push herself up to go get fucking money.
If she weren’t so scared of things I would punch the fuck out of something right now. “I don’t want your money, now or ever. I have no doubt you can take care of yourself. Consider this a housewarming present.” I get up going to the door not even giving her a chance to say anything else.
“She’s never had pizza before, so can you just get us plain cheese.”
I don’t say anything afraid of what will come out of my mouth. I nod and walk out the door, closing it quietly so as not to wake Lilah.
I close my eyes exhaling the breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding.
“She’s barely holding on while fighting for her life. She has demons, they both do. Whatever happened to them, it’s in there deep. The both of them are so scared, you can practically see the fear coming off of them.” I look over at Brenda who is on her porch watering her plants. “Tread lightly, Jackson, or better yet walk away if you aren’t going to do anything about it.”
I don’t have a chance to respond she walks into her house closing her front door softly, leaving me fighting my own demons.
About Natasha Madsion
When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...
Title: The Scars Keeper
Author: Scarlet Wolfe
Genre: YA Romance
Release Date: November 16
My scars are mine alone. They’re the validation of my pain.
The anxiety, anger and sadness I bleed.
My dark secret. A grim, ugly truth.
Most of all, they’re the one thing in my life I control.
It’s inevitable that one day I’ll have to reveal them to someone. What I wasn’t expecting was to share them now with him … with Hayden.
Girls like Avery are all the same. They’re spoiled, superficial blondes who don’t appreciate mommy and daddy’s wealth.
Plastic shells that are empty on the inside.
Or so I thought … but I was wrong.
Avery’s heart is an abyss of emotions. She feels like no one I’ve ever met, wallowing in her insecurities and anguish yet savoring every exciting moment within her reach. I was blindsided by the immense love she was willing to give once she trusted me, and I was left with no choice but to trust her, too, exposing my own pain and scars.
I hate myself for caving in … for loving her. How do you let go of the one person you let in? How do you say goodbye to the girl who trusted you with her body and soul?
I have to leave Avery, and where I’m going, I can’t take her with me. She’s going to believe I built her up only to tear her down, but what she doesn’t realize is unlike her, I can’t change my destiny. I was born into the Knights Union MC, and it’s where I’ll go to die.
“Stay away from me. I swear I’ll do it!”
He takes slow steps toward me, and the dirt, twigs and pine needles rustle beneath his laced-up boots.
“Don’t come any closer,” I order as he gets within ten feet or so and stops.
“Relief or revenge,” he says.
“What?” My hand trembles, and I feel the pressure of the blade against my skin.
“Death … Will it bring you relief or revenge?”
“Both.” He’s stock-still, staring through me with his black eyes. Paired with his grey shirt and ragged blue jeans, he’s menacing, matching the charcoal clouds threatening to soak us above.
“Do you want to know what you’ll get if you slice your neck open?”
“Peace is what I’ll finally get.”
“No. It’s regret. Good memories will flash in your mind, one after another. The dreams you’d hoped to experience in the future will be next.
“Then, I’ll watch it all pass before your eyes as blood squirts and pours from your carotid artery until it’s bubbling out of your mouth, streaming from the corners and dripping off your jaw. You’ll drown from your crimson life on this cold, wet ground.”
I suck in successive sharp breaths before they burst free inside a resounding cry. I pry open my fingers, dropping the knife to the earth before I fall next and hit that cold, damp ground.
I’m on my side and sobbing, watching Hayden come closer. The rain sporadically falls, and as his dusty black boots stand before my face, clean circles appear on them, the dirt washing away from the pelts of water.
He squats in front of me, and if I wasn’t already terrified of myself, I might be of him. My palm and cheek are pressed to the ground as I tilt my eyes up and stare into his.
Thin lips are parted, and jet-colored hair that reaches just shy of his chin is draped around his face.
He grabs the knife, twists his torso, and launches the shiny blade straight at a tree, sticking it as if he’s done it a thousand times.
Moving upright, he steps one foot over to straddle my body, and I gasp. He shoves an arm between my side and the ground before he scoops me up into his arms. Mine circle his neck snugly.
I’m panting for air between my cries, wrestling with confusion over two stark emotions. Anguish that my internal pain didn’t end, and relief that he saved me.
Scarlet Wolfe began writing in January of 2013 as a way to distract and heal from some of the grief she was dealing with after the death of her teenage son.
She instantly fell in love with bringing characters to life. Releasing contemporary romance throughout 2013, she branched out in 2014, adding erotica and teen. In 2015, her first romantic mystery/suspense, The Cassano Series, came to fruition.
When not writing, Scarlet enjoys her time with family and friends and has an addiction to Pinterest. She loves bacon, coffee, stories about possessive, hot alpha males, and other flavors of ice cream besides vanilla. ;)
She hopes her writing will encourage readers to explore their sexuality.