January 31, 2014
Cover Photographer: Lindee Robinson Photography
She’s his best play yet …
ROXANNE DEEDS thinks she’s far enough away from her past that her demons can’t come back to haunt her. With only one year left of college, everything looks like it’s falling into place—until Southern Arkansas University’s drool-worthy football running back crashes into her with no intention of letting go.
WESTON GARRISON knows two things in life. Sex and football. And he doesn’t plan on changing anytime soon—until he tears his hamstring a week before his first game, and his trainer is the one woman that he can’t seem to get enough of.
When Roxy’s past catches up to them, will their love be enough to save them both?
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My fingers curl around the knob and I open it an inch. A soft sigh escapes my lips. Weston. “What are you doin’ here?”
Weston runs his fingers through his hair and kicks the door open with his good foot. Both arms cross over his chest as he leans against the doorjamb. “That depends on if you let me in or not.”
Why is he here? Heat swarms my cheeks remembering everything we just done in that bathroom. Could he embarrass me anymore? “Why would I let you inside? It’s in the middle of the night.” I give him a good once over. “And you’re drunk.”
He reaches down and digs into his front pocket. He pulls out my cellphone and dangles it in front of my face by two fingers. “This is the reason you’d let me inside.”
What? I slap my palms against my pajama shorts and realize I really don’t have my phone. Dammit. Weston hums underneath his breath as he brings my phone closer to his face. “Looks like someone has a new text message.”
“Give it back, Weston.”
The edge of his mouth pulls up slightly. “Let me inside and I will.”
“Why? What’s in here that isn’t out there?”
Something passes over his face that I can’t pinpoint. “Let me inside, Roxanne.”
I felt that in-between my legs. That word slipping from that mouth is more than I can take. Keeping my eyes on his, I take a step backwards while opening the door wider for him. Something appetizingly wicked heats in those brown eyes.
With the help of one crutch, he wobbles forward. I watch as he shuts the door and locks it behind him. His gaze rolls over my small apartment and then back to me.
Taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth he places one arm against the wall. “Is he here?”
What? Who? Leaning closer he presses his cheek against my own. “Is he here?”
“Is who here?”
A stern grip cups my hip and guides me until I’m pressed against the wall. A strong wisp of alcohol heats my face. He’s definitely been drinking but for some reason he doesn’t seem too drunk. “Don’t play with me,” he whispers against my mouth. Is Blake here?”
Blake? Why would Blake be here? “Weston you’re clearly drunk–“
A groan slips from his clenched teeth and he presses his hand tighter around my hip. “Is he here?”
There is a demanding tone in his voice that makes a side of me quiver. “No.”
Ten rough fingers grip the nape of my neck and force my mouth upward. “Was he here?”
My thighs turn to goop. If he wasn’t pressing himself against me I’d probably fall. “No,” I whimper out.
Lowering his mouth to my ear, he breathes in. “Did he kiss you?”
I bite my lip and close my eyes. I’m burning up … everywhere. A hard weight is pressing against my lower stomach and it is slowly eating me alive. I don’t lie. And it’s mostly because I want to see his reaction. This aggressiveness is searing underneath my skin. I want it. “Yes, what’s it to you?”
There is a few short moments of silence. All I hear is his harsh breathing against my ear. Then he laughs. It’s a low chuckle that sets that fire ablaze inside of me. The hand on my hip lowers to cup my ass and the other slides up my throat to gently grip my neck. “You like him, Roxanne? You like the way he talks to you? The way he touches you?”
Anger rushes my throat and a painful lump beings to grow. Tilting my chin upward, I stare up at him. Those brown eyes bore into me and then lowering toward my lips. “Yes.”
Something wild darkens his eyes. He laughs beneath his breathe and presses the palm of his thumb against my bottom lip. “Does he touch you like this?” he whispers against my mouth. He squeezes my ass and presses me harder into him. And I feel exactly how excited he is pressed firmly against my stomach.
The truth is no one has ever made me feel this alive. Hormones that I haven’t felt in years are raging inside of me. “Answer me,” he hisses through his teeth.
No, he doesn’t.
Weston’s teeth grazes my bottom lip before he gently bites down. All my fingers clench into his biceps. “You’re drunk,” I whisper.
I can feel his growl surge through me. “Does it look like I’m fuckin’ drunk, Roxanne. Stop avoiding the goddamn question. Let me fuckin’ have you.”
Let me fuckin’ have you. Grabbing my back he pulls me closer so he can bury his face into my neck. My core is throbbing. I need this release. I need this friction.
“No, he doesn’t,” I whisper.
Weston squeezes me tighter and brings his lips to mine. “I didn’t think so.”
He watches me through hooded eyes while he drags the tip of his finger to the drop in the front of my shirt. Arching my back, I press my chest against him. My tender nipples rub against his hard chest and it makes my head dizzy. “I’m goin’ to show you how you’re supposed to feel when you kiss.”
God, I can’t think straight. Every atom in me is driving me toward him. Begging me to strip him out of those clothes and let him have his way with me. But everything is spinning in my mind. Ryan and Maddox. Weston’s reputation. One night wouldn’t hurt though, right? Just one night. But would one night be enough? Weston’s lips are hovering over mine as if he’s waiting on me to kiss him. To make the first move. I can already tell that there is no way one night will be enough. Those large hands. That full mouth. Tattoos and muscles. Can anyone say no to him?
About the Author
Alla Kar is from the Deep South. She lives there with her husband, feisty Chihuahua and Pit-bull puppy. She loves YouTube, Hulu, alpha males, southern gentlemen and everything new adult.
Release Date: March 25, 2014
April Frost is a compassionate young woman with a steady job and ambitious goals. But the harder she
runs away from her past, the more it threatens to destroy her. When three strangers enter her life, April
is forced to face her demons and it’s a battle she may not win.
Private investigators in the Breed world are men who take risks, and Reno Cole is no exception. As a
Shifter, he’s expected to control his inner animal. But lately his wolf has been venturing dangerously
close to the city, and he’s about to discover why. When Reno is reintroduced to a family friend, the
attraction is immediate. April captivates him with her secretive eyes and resilient spirit. She’s also in
trouble, and despite the fact she’s a human, Reno can’t turn his back on her.
April is caught between two worlds: One that threatens to bury her dreams and another that could fulfill
them. Can she trust the wolf at her door and find the courage to overcome her demons?
There’s a buzzing sensation when you have chemistry with someone. It’s like there are invisible threads connecting your bodies and igniting into sparks, and the residual pulse bounces back in shockwaves, growing stronger with each second.
I felt that with Reno. He stepped so close to me that I remembered how good it felt when he’d held me in his arms. The animalistic look in his eyes captured me like he was a predator and I was prey. He felt it too. I could tell by soft breath he took before he spoke.
“I’ve always liked hazel eyes,” he said. “Yours look like a sunset over sea-green waters.”
I hit pause. This was a scene I’d be replaying in my head for weeks to come, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment by saying something inane. I let him graze his thumb across my mouth. He pulled my lower lip down just enough that his thumb glided across the fleshy inside. Then he rolled his wet thumb across my lip, making what seemed like a casual gesture become the most intimate moment I’d experienced with a man outside of sex.
Staring into Reno’s chocolate eyes up close was like riding on that motorcycle. Intense, sexy, and addictive. When I felt his hand leisurely traveling down the curve of my back, my icy walls began to melt and I warmed to his touch.
I waited for him to make another move, but it never came. He looked at me like something unattainable—the same way I coveted the expensive perfume bottles behind the display counter, or the chocolate macadamia nut cookies at the gourmet shop.
I whirled around and he captured my wrist, gently tugging me back. “Something wrong with the way I touched you?”
“It’s nothing,” I breathed.
But Reno didn’t let go. He stepped closer and lifted my chin. “Did you want me to kiss you?”
Reno grinned. “Liar.”
About the Author
This is the segment where you learn a little more about who I am, so here's what I can tell you: I drink copious amounts of vitamin water placed precariously close to my laptop while writing. These are two healthy habits I have no intention of breaking. I'm a transplant living in the south, but I was born in the 70's to a military dad who moved us around the world.
When I'm not writing (which is all the time), I'm hunting down Indie music, watching movies, reading, eating Tex-Mex, discovering new ways to humiliate myself bowling, and burning up my laptop battery on the Internet. I have a relaxed, easy-going personality and don't like drama. I live with a cat who thinks she is a dog, or a goat (she eats plastic, so I'm not sure which).
Throughout my life, I've had insomnia. Counting sheep never worked and eventually I would imagine those sheep were the sole source of food after an apocalyptic battle where only thousands survived. I made up stories in a futile attempt to bore myself to sleep. The problem was, I got so wrapped up in my "head stories" that I would continue them through the following nights, changing it up each time to make it more exciting. Eventually, I started writing my ideas down - creating short stories, and then I discovered my love for poetry.
It's almost embarrassing how many spiral notebooks and stacks of paper I have of poetry and lyrics.
Another passion: digital art. I design all my book covers, marketing, and series art. I'm a very visual person and pursued photography as an avid hobby for many years.
I am not a YA author (I feel like I have to state this only because I've had a few people ask), but I think it's wonderful there are so many books available to teens in Urban Fantasy and Paranormal.
I am finally doing what I have always wanted to do: giving my characters a pulse through writing full time. I focus on adult urban fantasy romance, but I don't like labels and I enjoy blending genres to break out of the confines of predictability.
But it's what I love to do.
You can stalk, I mean, find Dannika here:
“Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting them not to.”
How do you live with yourself when you are the reason you lost the one thing that meant the most to you.
Timing is everything and for Reed, he can never seem to catch a break. When Reed returns to Boston to redeem himself he finds that Elle has already moved on, building a new life, a new beginning. He needs her to know that he meant every word before he left, that he never meant to leave her. Will he ever get that chance to tell her?
How do you love again when the one person who made you feel like you were his whole world left you with a broken heart? Hoping that life and new friends could keep her memories and feelings for Reed at bay, Elle chases life and all that it has to offer until she is confronted with heartbreak again.
Is time and space enough to get past losing your once in a lifetime or will Elle be always Wanting Reed?
“Ugh,” Tommy moans. "I can’t wait to get the credit card bill.”
“Relax, baby. It wasn’t all for me. I picked you up some goodies, too.”
“Don’t scare me. Last time you bought me khakis."
“No clothes this time. Just toys.” She winks, brandishing a bag from Condom World.
“All right, TMI.” I cringe. The last thing I want to hear about is what Tommy and Juju do in the bedroom. Elle laughs.
“I may have picked up a little something from there. For us,” Elle murmurs, running her hands over the muscles of my arms. “I can always take everything back.”
“God, doll.” I smile and shake my head as she runs her hands down the front of my shirt and pulls on the belt loop of my jeans until our hips touch. I can feel her breath quicken. “This teasing has got to stop, or I’m gonna have to take you right here.” I eye her up and down, summoning every ounce of willpower not to throw her over my shoulder and take her to the bathroom. “Can you at least tell me what you bought?” She shakes her head, exhales and runs her tongue along my bottom lip.
“And where’s the fun in that?” she replies in a shaky breath.
"Looks like you two need to be alone.” Juju wiggles her eyebrows and throws herself on Tommy.
"No more shopping trips. This is it. The rest of the time we'll be hanging out together until you guys leave next week,” I say, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair.
“How about we play some pool?” Juju chirps.
"All the tables are taken,” I groan, mentally wincing that my chance to get Elle home early is slipping out of my fingers. I frown when Tommy snatches a table from a couple of guys finishing up. I'm starting to think that Tommy hates me.
“Why are you frowning, baby?" Elle asks. You don't wanna play pool with me?" Her intense gaze causes my dick to twitch.
“I think I’d rather play with you in bed," I growl into her ear as I tug playfully on her hair.
"I’ve got a better idea." I see her brow crinkle, and I know she’s thinking about me as she chews on her bottom lip.
“I'm listening," I reply, hopeful as I run my teeth over my bottom lip.
“If you win, you choose whatever it is you want from me.”
"Anything?" My mind goes wild thinking about her in nothing but red lace. I may need to pick up those cuffs she’s made reference to before we go home. I don’t doubt her skills at pool. Shit. I have never seen her play, and I’m pretty good. Either way, win or lose, I'm going to come out on top.
"And if I lose?" I say, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.
"I make you my sexual slave," she whispers with a distractively sexy half-smile on her lips.
I think my dick just ripped a hole in my boxers and is ready to burst my zipper. Fuck winning. I'm losing.
We've been playing pool for about thirty minutes, and Elle is horrible. I have to top her shitty pool skills by being equally horrible. I want to lose. I'm curious about her whole slave idea. We haven’t been together that long, and it makes me wonder if she's got this super kinky side. She grins at me and then leans over the table, eyeing me seductively.
"What’s your next move?” I chuckle, observing her trying to handle the stick. I want her to handle mine instead. She walks around the table, twirling her hair and trying to get the best angle for the shot, sometimes purposely putting her sweet ass within my reach. I'm no dummy. I smack it every time she offers it. “You really aren’t good at pool, are you?” I grin, admiring her ass in her tight jeans.
"Stop it, Reed." She pouts, struggling with the stick.
"You want me to help you, baby?” Rising from my stool before she can answer, I stand behind her as she's bent over the table. Her scent envelops me as I nuzzle my nose in her hair. "I like you in this position," I growl, nibbling her ear as I tug her hair.
"Are you guys playing pool or making a porno?” Tommy laughs from the table with Juju looking on with a smirk on her face.
"Sounds like fun, don’t ‘cha think?" Elle peeks over her shoulder. Her eyes twinkle devilishly. "You're losing on purpose." She laughs.
"The way I see it, I win either way.”
God, the fact that I am back here with her now makes me the luckiest fucking man alive.
"I can't get a good angle to get a shot in." She frowns, turning her attention to the table.
"I know a lot of good angles." I cock an eyebrow at her and grab her waist. This constant touching is torturing me. I need a release really soon. This game is dragging.
"How about we make this the last shot? If you make it, I lose. I’m your slave. If you don't make it, I’m still your slave."
"You're really curious about this whole slave thing I have planned, aren't you?" she teases, cocking her head to one side as she winds her hair around her finger.
I nod my head adamantly. "Hell yeah, between you mentioning the cuffs and this, I think there’s plenty I still don’t know about you that I’m eager to discover.”
"Be careful what you wish for," she says, flirting shamelessly with me.
"Fuck, doll, I'm gonna love whatever it is you have planned. Just take the shot so we can get outta here."
About the Author
Antoinette Candela is a little shy with a larger than life personality. Suffering from Peter Pan syndrome, she refuses to grow up. She finds inspiration for her writings from everyday life, through her fun and quirky interactions with friends and family and the drama that never ceases to disappoint.
One thing is for certain, Antoinette lives by her own rules. As a Bostonian she loves the Yankees and is proud to wear her “I Love Derek Jeter “T-shirt. You can catch Antoinette on the beach soaking in the rays, but when the rumble of the thunderstorm rolls in, she’s curled up with a book or tapping away on her keyboard.
Mother, Writer, Reader, Lover of Music and all things learning, Antoinette is the charismatic author of Breaking Elle.
January 30, 2014
Expected Release Date: February 20, 2014
I'm not proud of the things I've done. The things I've had to do. The things I've given away, but I'd give it all over again to find her.
Even if I die trying, I have to find Alexis.
She wants me to help her, but I won't. She wants me to save her sister, but I can't. She wants me to be her hero, but I'm not a good man.
I am her damnation.
Romance has met its most unlikely match-up...
Luke Bradford is a chocolatier on a mission. After moving his chocolate shop, and newly single life, to the quirky town of Cactus Creek, Luke wants nothing more than to devote all his energy into making his business a success—by taking the romance market by storm. But his grand plans get thrown for a loop when he locks horns with the feisty beer-brewing beauty next door who calls his ‘romantic idealism’ a load of fairytale bull. Soon, driving the woman sparking nuts becomes another wickedly fun priority he simply can’t get enough of.
In his defense, she’s addictively easy to incite…and plain impossible to resist.
Beloved local brewmaster Dani Dobson is beyond riled up. It’s bad enough the new shop owner in town comes locked and loaded with both a distractingly rugged charm and sexy flashing dimples, but the whole only-in-the-movies variety of romance he’s selling—the kind her world has been crushed by before—is really doing a number on her allergy to unrealistic clichés. What’s worse, he’s created an annoyingly clever ad campaign that dubs ‘beer joints’ like hers as the “cave where romance goes to hibernate.” The nerve of that man.
Combustible chemistry or not, damn it, this means war. The stakes…very likely, her heart.
A jolt of awareness charged her skin as she recalled every memorable thing about him, all now tattooed in her brain. Halfway down the fairly long list, Dani huffed out to herself, “Xoey’s losing it. That guy can’t possibly… I mean he was just so—” She shook her head, at a loss for words to match her blistering hot thoughts.
“I was so...what?” prodded a deep, gentle voice from behind her.
“You!” she gasped, spinning around. She gripped the rum bottle she’d just unloaded from its crate and poised it before her like a fencing sabre. “What are you doing back here?”
“Whoa, easy.” He shot both his hands up in the air, amusement curving his mouth into a lopsided grin. “No need to bottle-bash me. Your friend, the other bartender, sent me in to help you.”
“Of course she did,” Dani muttered in exasperation.
Mental note: Xoey was so fired.
When she pulled her weapon away from his face, the man efficiently slid next to her as if she hadn’t been poised for assault with deadly bottle, and began opening liquor cartons like he was being paid to. “Now what were you just saying about me?”
She balked. “How could I’ve been saying anything about you?! I don’t even know you.”
His pupils flared. But not in annoyance at her well-worded, bald-faced lie. But rather…in hunger.
She took a step back.
“Sorry.” He tore his eyes away from her and focused on the whiskey bottles he was lining up behind the older bottles in accordance with the labeled restocking instructions on each shelf. “The thoughts in my stream-of-consciousness just went to dangerous waters,” he added in that malt-rich voice of his. “I went from thinking ‘pants on fire’ to thinking about your pants.” His voice graveled, heated for a second as if teased by his own words. “Then, well, you can follow the breadcrumbs.”
Lordy, the man was lethal to the female population.
She did in fact follow those crumbs, right over to her backside. Unconsciously, she took a compulsive swipe at her jeans with her free hand—nope, no flames engulfing her butt—and felt the temperature in the small room spike dramatically.
Dammit, if he didn’t quit looking at her like that—all steamy eyes valiantly glued to her face rather than her fire snuffing efforts below… She shivered. Not wanting to even mentally voice the trouble that would ensue from that train of thought. It was bad enough that the faint scent of one of her dark ales was lingering on his lips in that sexier than sin sort of way, but candying it atop a gentlemanly sweet center to boot was just playing unfair.
Of course, like a masochist, she tipped her head back to meet his gaze anyway.
“Hi,” he rumbled gently, a soft smile flirting with the corners of his lips.
It was a content murmur more than anything else and somehow he managed to make that one word, the mere act of greeting her, meeting her for the first time sound so...special.
Oh, hell. The moment her fingertips began gravitating to his chest, the rest of her couldn’t help but follow. His hands settled lightly at her sides and she watched, spellbound, as the simmering heat in his eyes burned hotter. Deeper.
An unexpected sigh of pleasure seeped out of her and instantly, his fingers flexed against her hips in response. It was the only warning she got. In one sultry swoop, he strapped a steel arm around her waist to pull her flush against him before he caught her jaw with his free hand and just exploded past all her defenses with one slow, soft brush of his lips against hers.
Then just as quickly, he pulled back.
Seemingly shocked at his own actions, eyes fixed on hers as if to gauge her reaction, he dragged in ragged breath after ragged breath. To try to slow things down probably.
One second, two seconds...
On three, her lips found his racing pulse just above his collar. A timid tongue swipe was all it took to get her shoulders pinned back against a wall, his hand speared through her hair, and the sensitive skin along her neck schooled on how turnabout was so far beyond fair play.
Breathing became barely a memory as his mouth decimated any hope she had of control. Before she knew it, she was undoing her shirt, daring him to follow suit. She wasn’t normally the bold instigator type but with him...she couldn’t think, couldn’t wait, couldn’t—
She didn’t even know this guy’s name.
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Note from Author: The prequel novella (A Little Combustible Chemistry) that goes along with this book is meant to be a **FREE** gift for all of you amazing fans. It may take a little while but it should price-match to free soon. In the meantime, I just uploaded a special version of Love, Chocolate, and Beer that has the prequel built into the file at the front so you can still read the prequel for free that way. You don't need to get it separately. I'll keep the prequel in there until the prequel ebook is price-matched at free.
New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Violet Duke is a former professor of English Education who is ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page writing wickedly fun contemporary romance novels. When she's not arguing with her story characters or feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, she enjoys tackling reno projects with her power tools while trying pretty much anything without reading the directions first and cooking 'special edition' dishes that laugh in the face of recipes. Violet lives in Hawai'i with her two cute kids and similarly adorable husband.
January 29, 2014
I met Sarah Kate Erickson when I was 21 years old. I was lucky enough to keep
her for seven years before a tragic accident stole her from me. She didn’t die, but
sometimes I think it would have been easier if she had.
I lived in a haze for those four years after the accident. Catering to her every need,
even though she hated the very sight of my face. I tried to hold on to her and the
future that we were supposed to build together. But you can’t hold on to someone
that doesn’t exist anymore.
It wasn’t until I met Jesse Addison, a barista at the local coffee shop, that I realized I
didn’t just lose Sarah that tragic night, I lost myself as well. Jesse taught me how to
let go of the past and learn to love again. But what happens when your past haunts
your present and the woman you used to love refuses to accept the woman you can’t
I met Sarah Kate Erickson seven years ago during a chance meeting at the local
library. We were both reaching for the same William Shakespeare Collection. Our
hands brushed, sparks flew, and it was love at first sight. We dated for three years,
got married, and had sex for the very first time on our wedding night. Well, at least
that is the story she made me promise to tell our future children.
The truth is that, I met Sarah in a bar while she was approximately one drop of
alcohol away from spending the night praying to the porcelain gods. She had on
some ridiculously tight red dress and the tallest pair of black fuck-me heels I had
ever seen. It was whore-tastic, but damn, she looked amazing. She was already tall
for a woman, but in those cock-hardening shoes, she towered over the other women.
Her friends were dressed in similarly sexy and in somewhat coordinating outfits. A
collaborative effort that was no doubt on purpose.
I watched as she asked for another drink from the bartender who stood staring at
her partially exposed breasts for a beat too long. She reached across the bar, pushed
one finger under his chin, and guided his gaze back to her eyes while she ordered
drinks. She then turned and leaned her elbows behind her, propping herself up on
the bar, and effectively thrusting her barely covered breasts into the face of every
man in the room. It was then I knew I needed to meet them...I mean her...I had to
Sure, staring at her was probably creepy as hell, but I just couldn't take my eyes
off her. As cheesy as it sounds, there was just something about the tall blonde that
commanded my attention. It didn't hurt that I got an insta-hard on when I thought
about those long legs wrapped around my waist. Okay, so maybe staring wasn't the
only creepy part.
About the Author
I’m a 32 year old wife and stay at home mom to four kids under the age of five,
including a set of twins. My life is crazy, which is probably why I drink entirely too
much wine. Oh who am I kidding, I had a love affair with wine long before the kids
came along. I was born and raised in Savannah Georgia, but we recently moved to
Chicago. Let me tell you, this southern girl was not ready for the cold weather up
I’m an avid reader, but I haven’t always been that way. A few years ago my
sister loaned me her Nook Color, and it changed my life forever. In the span of
about two years, I read over 500 books. My newfound love of reading led me
to start a book blog with two of my best friends. (Insert shameless plug here:
WhiteZinBookends.com). Through WZ Bookends, I've had the opportunity to meet
some of the most amazing authors, bloggers, and readers out there. Now that I have
taken the leap into writing my own book, they’ve all shown me endless amounts of
encouragement and support.
While driving home from Walmart one day in late October, a story embedded itself
in my head and would not let go. It spiraled out of control until I finally opened my
laptop and started writing. This journey has been a wild ride filled with tears, hand
cramps, and tons of laughs. I love company, so follow me at one of the social links
below and join me aboard this crazy train!
$50 Amazon or B&N Gift Card (winners choice)
(3) Signed Paperbacks of Changing Course with Swag Pack (US Only)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
January 28, 2014
I ask for nothing in return, and that makes me good.
That which makes me the ultimate predator also feeds dark impulses I’ve learned to control—until
I bring her too close. For years I’ve watched her from afar, but what started out as duty has become
My scars are quiet and invisible, and that keeps me hidden.
One fateful walk home, I’m taken by someone I didn’t know I should fear. Captive and afraid, nobody will
tell me why I’m confined to this hauntingly beautiful mansion. I’m given everything; I have nothing. He
takes what he needs from me, and for that I hate him. But I might have loved him once.
And just because you’re reading this doesn’t mean I survive him.
Genre: Dark Erotica, Standalone
Expected Release Date: February 27, 2014
Cover Designer: Cover It! Designs
Photographer: Scott Hoover Photography
Hosted by: Love Between the Sheets Promotions
Because I’m lost in my thoughts, I don’t hear Cataline enter the room. Her tight black dress cuts across her mid-thighs, and her cleavage teases from a plummeting neckline. She’s done her makeup for probably Jasmine drifts under my nose as she walks away from me to her seat.
“I thought you’d like it,” she says, lowering herself gracefully into the chair. Her back is straight as a rod, Norman decorates the table with food as I stare Cataline down. He clears his throat. “For dinner, we..."
He pauses. Though my eyes are still fastened on Cataline, I know he’s watching me as he bows his head.
I stand and slowly walk the line of the long table. My footsteps echo through the hall, appropriately menacing. I’ve just come from a burning building but am back in my suit and tie to maintain appearances.
And my ridiculous glasses, which I remove and toss aside. She’ll believe I’ve just returned from the office.
When I’m standing over her, she tugs up the neckline of the dress and blinks at me. I resist smirking.
“As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one meal at this table, and it’s you.”
My ears pick up her slow swallow, my eyes the curl of her hands in her lap. “That sounds like a threat.”
I bend over, flatten one hand on the table and wrap the other around the arm of her chair. “It’s not. This is a threat: if you’re not naked and spread out on this table in two seconds, I’m going to spank you so hard."
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