Title: Havoc
Series: Storm MC #8
Author: Nina Levine
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: March 8, 2016
Blurb
Meet Havoc...
I was happy doing my own thing.
No connections.
No demands.
No problems.
Just me, my club and a whole lot of dirty work to take care of.
She never wanted a biker.
She wanted stability and I gave up on that years ago.
We tried to fight it.
Neither of us wanted it.
But she calms my fury and I show her a man who accepts every part of her.
Now we're trying to figure out how to be together. Because when the need for each other is this strong, to deny it will only cause complete havoc.
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Excerpt
As I stepped through the bathroom doorway however, I found her. She was in the bath, plugged into her music with her eyes closed and her head resting on the edge of the bath.
I stopped and leaned against the wall with my arms folded across my chest. Watching her, my gaze travelled the length of her body. In the short time I’d known her, my appreciation of her body had grown. Where small tits hadn’t turned me on a month ago, I couldn’t get enough of hers.
Never letting me down, my dick grew hard while I took in her beauty.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I contemplated the wisdom of fucking her again.
I wanted to.
Hell, I fucking needed to.
She’s a brother’s sister for fuck’s sake.
I’d spent the last few hours going over and over that fact in my mind. My decision had been to head back to the motel, sleep on the couch and never taste her pussy again.
I hadn’t factored in having her naked body on display the minute I returned.
Shit.
“How long are you going to stand there staring at me?” she asked as she cracked an eye open to look at me.
“Until you get out and let me fuck you.” Both her eyes had opened and I pinned my gaze to hers, not letting her go.
Her eyebrows lifted. “I thought you were done with me.”
“Turns out I’m not.”
She stood and reached for her towel before stepping out. Continuing to hold my gaze, she slowly dried herself off.
Teasing the fuck out of my dick.
I fought the desire to reach out and rip the towel from her hands. My carefully constructed self-control was being tested and I knew it wouldn’t be long until I caved and took what I wanted.
Finally – finally – she finished drying off and closed the distance between us. “What if I’m done with you?” I knew she was full of shit by the breathless tone she used and the way her body leaned just that little bit too close to mine. It was like she was trying to hold herself back, but her body had a mind of its own and couldn’t stay away.
I lifted a brow. “Are you?”
“I should be. After the way you’ve been treating me, I really should be.” Still all breathy.
Still in this with me.
I unfolded my arms so I could curl my hand around her neck. Gripping her there, I said, “Yeah, you should be, but you’re not.”
I feel the same way.
With our faces so close that her breaths whispered across my skin, we stared at each other for a long time. The still air in the tiny bathroom consumed our apprehension piece by piece until all that was left was an unrelenting need to satisfy our hunger.
At the first sign of her softening, I tightened my hold on her neck and pulled her mouth to mine. She didn’t hesitate and a second later our bodies pressed together as hard as our mouths did.
The smell of her arousal overwhelmed me and I let her neck go so I could slide my hands around her ass and lift her. Turning, I held her up against the wall and groaned as she wrapped her legs around me. The urge to drive my cock as hard and fast as I could into her sweet cunt threatened to take over as the only thought in my mind, and I took a moment to work through that and get myself under control.
Resting my forehead against hers, I focused on my breathing while I gave myself a talking to.
Focus.
You’ve got this.
You’ve fucking done this enough times to know how to control yourself.
But I hadn’t.
I’d never fucked a woman like Carla.
Had never been with a woman who stole my control the way she did.
She invaded every fucking sense of mine until I didn’t know right from wrong, up from down, red from fucking blue.
“Havoc.”
My head snapped up and I found her staring at me.
Unsure.
“Are you okay?” she asked, lines creasing her forehead as she tilted her head, frowning at me.
I stepped back and let her go. “I need to slow this shit down.”
She stood naked in front of me with an expression on her face that seemed to be half confusion and half frustration. “What does that mean?”
I wasn’t sure I even knew.
“It means I want you sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed waiting for me while I take a minute,” I bit out. My head was so damn full I thought it might actually explode.
Too many thoughts.
Too many fucking feelings.
I jerked my chin at her and snapped, “Go.”
Her eyes widened a fraction and I pushed my breaths out while waiting for her to submit. When she didn’t, I growled, “Carla, I need you to go and sit on the bed. Now.”
“I’m giving you five minutes to get your head back in this. I’m all for bossy and shit, but I draw a line at whatever the fuck you call what you’ve got going on at the moment. Barking orders at me is a whole lot fucking different than dominating me.” With that, she stalked out of the bathroom.
Thank fuck.
I stopped and leaned against the wall with my arms folded across my chest. Watching her, my gaze travelled the length of her body. In the short time I’d known her, my appreciation of her body had grown. Where small tits hadn’t turned me on a month ago, I couldn’t get enough of hers.
Never letting me down, my dick grew hard while I took in her beauty.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I contemplated the wisdom of fucking her again.
I wanted to.
Hell, I fucking needed to.
She’s a brother’s sister for fuck’s sake.
I’d spent the last few hours going over and over that fact in my mind. My decision had been to head back to the motel, sleep on the couch and never taste her pussy again.
I hadn’t factored in having her naked body on display the minute I returned.
Shit.
“How long are you going to stand there staring at me?” she asked as she cracked an eye open to look at me.
“Until you get out and let me fuck you.” Both her eyes had opened and I pinned my gaze to hers, not letting her go.
Her eyebrows lifted. “I thought you were done with me.”
“Turns out I’m not.”
She stood and reached for her towel before stepping out. Continuing to hold my gaze, she slowly dried herself off.
Teasing the fuck out of my dick.
I fought the desire to reach out and rip the towel from her hands. My carefully constructed self-control was being tested and I knew it wouldn’t be long until I caved and took what I wanted.
Finally – finally – she finished drying off and closed the distance between us. “What if I’m done with you?” I knew she was full of shit by the breathless tone she used and the way her body leaned just that little bit too close to mine. It was like she was trying to hold herself back, but her body had a mind of its own and couldn’t stay away.
I lifted a brow. “Are you?”
“I should be. After the way you’ve been treating me, I really should be.” Still all breathy.
Still in this with me.
I unfolded my arms so I could curl my hand around her neck. Gripping her there, I said, “Yeah, you should be, but you’re not.”
I feel the same way.
With our faces so close that her breaths whispered across my skin, we stared at each other for a long time. The still air in the tiny bathroom consumed our apprehension piece by piece until all that was left was an unrelenting need to satisfy our hunger.
At the first sign of her softening, I tightened my hold on her neck and pulled her mouth to mine. She didn’t hesitate and a second later our bodies pressed together as hard as our mouths did.
The smell of her arousal overwhelmed me and I let her neck go so I could slide my hands around her ass and lift her. Turning, I held her up against the wall and groaned as she wrapped her legs around me. The urge to drive my cock as hard and fast as I could into her sweet cunt threatened to take over as the only thought in my mind, and I took a moment to work through that and get myself under control.
Resting my forehead against hers, I focused on my breathing while I gave myself a talking to.
Focus.
You’ve got this.
You’ve fucking done this enough times to know how to control yourself.
But I hadn’t.
I’d never fucked a woman like Carla.
Had never been with a woman who stole my control the way she did.
She invaded every fucking sense of mine until I didn’t know right from wrong, up from down, red from fucking blue.
“Havoc.”
My head snapped up and I found her staring at me.
Unsure.
“Are you okay?” she asked, lines creasing her forehead as she tilted her head, frowning at me.
I stepped back and let her go. “I need to slow this shit down.”
She stood naked in front of me with an expression on her face that seemed to be half confusion and half frustration. “What does that mean?”
I wasn’t sure I even knew.
“It means I want you sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed waiting for me while I take a minute,” I bit out. My head was so damn full I thought it might actually explode.
Too many thoughts.
Too many fucking feelings.
I jerked my chin at her and snapped, “Go.”
Her eyes widened a fraction and I pushed my breaths out while waiting for her to submit. When she didn’t, I growled, “Carla, I need you to go and sit on the bed. Now.”
“I’m giving you five minutes to get your head back in this. I’m all for bossy and shit, but I draw a line at whatever the fuck you call what you’ve got going on at the moment. Barking orders at me is a whole lot fucking different than dominating me.” With that, she stalked out of the bathroom.
Thank fuck.
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Have you met the Storm MC yet?
If you love a dirty talking, alpha biker this bestselling series is one you should check out today!
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Author Bio
Dreamer.
Coffee Lover.
Gypsy at heart.
USA Today Bestselling author who writes about alpha men & the women they love.
When I’m not creating with words you will find me planning my next getaway, visiting somewhere new in the world, having a long conversation over coffee and cake with a friend, creating with paper or curled up with a good book and chocolate.
I love Keith Urban, Maroon 5, Pink, Florida Georgia Line, Bon Jovi, Matchbox 20, Lady Antebellum and pretty much any singer/band that is country or rock.
I’ve been writing since I was twelve. Weaving words together has always been a form of therapy for me especially during my harder times. These days I’m proud that my words help others just as much as they help me.
USA Today Bestselling author who writes about alpha men & the women they love.
When I’m not creating with words you will find me planning my next getaway, visiting somewhere new in the world, having a long conversation over coffee and cake with a friend, creating with paper or curled up with a good book and chocolate.
I love Keith Urban, Maroon 5, Pink, Florida Georgia Line, Bon Jovi, Matchbox 20, Lady Antebellum and pretty much any singer/band that is country or rock.
I’ve been writing since I was twelve. Weaving words together has always been a form of therapy for me especially during my harder times. These days I’m proud that my words help others just as much as they help me.
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Giveaway
Title: I Never Dreamed
Series: Southern Rock Lyrics #2
Author: Ashley Hampton
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Interracial Romance
Cover Design: Underdog Photography & Publishing, LLC
Cover Model: Ricky Bell
Photographer: Ashley Hampton with Underdog Photography & Publishing, LLC
Release Date: March 22, 2016
Blurb
Dr. Nate Roman
Heartbroken.
Once was enough. I'll never give my heart to another again. One night with a woman is enough for me now. As a psychologist, I deal with emotions all day long. Life gets messy when emotions are involved, and I like my life uncomplicated.
Dr. Lynsey Henderson intrigues me. Her smile makes my heart skip a beat. I want her in my bed, but she isn't proving to be an easy conquest.
Dr. Lynsey Henderson
I finally have everything I dreamed about since I was a kid. Well, almost. I have the best job as a pediatric orthopedic surgeon, and I live in a beautiful historic home in a quaint small town. I'm missing someone special to share my life with. Someone special to love. The last time I tried was a colossal disaster.
My path has crossed Dr. Nate Roman's multiple times at work. He is beyond gorgeous and just the kind of guy I swore I'd stay away from.... he has a different girl every night, and I'm not going to be one of the many.
He is so damn sweet when he tries to convince me to go out with him, and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to resist.
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#3 I NEED YOU
Author Bio
Ashley Hampton works as a Licensed Psychologist in private practice during the day. When she leaves work, she puts on her writer and photographer hats and enjoys living in the worlds created in her mind. She lives near her hometown of Birmingham, Alabama with her cat, Gemma. Ashley wanted to find a creative way to meld her love for music and psychology with writing, and the Southern Rock Lyrics series was born. With other series planned, Ashley wants to write in the romance, erotica, and psychological thriller genres.
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Title: Golden Boy
Series: The Canyon Club #2
Author: Kate Moore
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 21, 2015
Blurb
In L.A., land of palm trees and perpetual sunshine, charming trust-fund golden boy Josh Huntington meets his match in Emma Gray, an independent single-mother who can’t be won by charm...and who makes him past ready to be a man.
EVERYTHING HE WANTS
Lucky in looks, fortunate in birth, Josh Huntington is a prince of privilege, one of LA’s golden boys. In his nearly thirty years there have been no clouds in the sky and no dip in his funds—until now. His impossibly strong sense of self-interest is being challenged...and not just by his father’s threats to cut his trust fund. There’s also his tenant, a prickly young single mom with a six-year-old and a habit of looking down her self-reliant nose at his wastrel ways.
Emma Gray has no use for rich man-boys like her landlord, all charming sensuality and no dependability. Not unless her sink needs unclogging. Josh reminds her too much of her rock-star father and a past that she ran away from. Emma is self-made, from her punk rock wardrobe to her fiercely independent lifestyle. But her quest for family will bring them all together, and soon Emma will learn that the spoiled boy next door desires things she doesn’t realize...and can grow up to be a man she never dared imagine.
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Excerpt
He opened the door. Emma Gray looked like a landlord’s worst nightmare, with her leather-gloved fist stopped midway in its path to his door. Dark rouged lips, nose piercings, and smoky, kohl-lined eyes intensified the glare she gave him. Purple streaks in her hair hung long and straight over her ears. Her black skull-and-crossbones tank top bared trails of lurid floral tattoos running across her collarbone and down her upper arms. A wide, metal-studded black leather belt cinched her waist above an incongruous schoolgirl-plaid pleated skirt. Her slim legs, encased in fishnet hose, disappeared into unlaced industrial-strength black boots. And she looked seriously aggrieved that he’d opened his door wearing only a pair of black silk boxers.
“Don’t you ever wear clothes?”
“Not in bed.”
Her gaze dropped. He might have made her blush. Hard to tell under that Swedish death metal band look. At least she lowered her fist.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. “Sink? Refrigerator? Shower?” It was a mistake to think shower. The very word triggered images his brain ought not to entertain about his tenant, this prickly, independent, don’t-touch-me-ever, single-mom tenant whose rent he needed. He might be at low tide, but not that low.
They stood looking at each other in the common second-floor entry under the breast of Venus overhead lamp fixture while he waited for whatever she intended to say. He had time to imagine several intriguing possibilities before she finally got the words out.
“I need your help.”
He did not move. He did not betray by so much as a flicker of a glance the satisfaction it gave him to hear those four words from this girl who did practically everything herself. Her constant stubborn independence irked him, though he was less amused the few times she called him out on his landlord duties.
“Do you?”
She glanced back over hershoulder at her unit. That meant she was thinking of her son Max, a tow-headed six year old. “Yes.”
“What can I do for you?”
“My babysitter didn’t show and hasn’t called, and I’m due at work in fifteen.”
He noted what she could and could not say. “You want me to watch Max?”
“He can take care of himself, really. He has toys and snacks. He can play while you…whatever. You just have to check on him once in awhile and call me if there’s blood, vomiting, unconsciousness, or visible bones.”
He should not have her on, but the temptation was too strong. “Define ‘once in awhile.’ Like, every five minutes, or every half hour?”
She blew out a short, sharp breath. “If it gets too quiet, you know, you should check.”
“So you want me to keep my music down and my door open.”
“Can you do that?”
It was clearly instinctive for her to doubt his capabilities. To ask for his help, Ms. Self-Reliance had to be desperate.
He straightened and stopped his teasing. “Listen, let Max know the plan. I’ll put on some clothes and take him to the park or something. How long will you be gone?”
“Six.” She turned away. “Thank you.”
He left the door open and drifted back into his bedroom to find some shorts and flip-flops. Her accepting his help was a slight admission of his usefulness, and he contemplated how to take advantage of his minor victory.
“Don’t you ever wear clothes?”
“Not in bed.”
Her gaze dropped. He might have made her blush. Hard to tell under that Swedish death metal band look. At least she lowered her fist.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. “Sink? Refrigerator? Shower?” It was a mistake to think shower. The very word triggered images his brain ought not to entertain about his tenant, this prickly, independent, don’t-touch-me-ever, single-mom tenant whose rent he needed. He might be at low tide, but not that low.
They stood looking at each other in the common second-floor entry under the breast of Venus overhead lamp fixture while he waited for whatever she intended to say. He had time to imagine several intriguing possibilities before she finally got the words out.
“I need your help.”
He did not move. He did not betray by so much as a flicker of a glance the satisfaction it gave him to hear those four words from this girl who did practically everything herself. Her constant stubborn independence irked him, though he was less amused the few times she called him out on his landlord duties.
“Do you?”
She glanced back over hershoulder at her unit. That meant she was thinking of her son Max, a tow-headed six year old. “Yes.”
“What can I do for you?”
“My babysitter didn’t show and hasn’t called, and I’m due at work in fifteen.”
He noted what she could and could not say. “You want me to watch Max?”
“He can take care of himself, really. He has toys and snacks. He can play while you…whatever. You just have to check on him once in awhile and call me if there’s blood, vomiting, unconsciousness, or visible bones.”
He should not have her on, but the temptation was too strong. “Define ‘once in awhile.’ Like, every five minutes, or every half hour?”
She blew out a short, sharp breath. “If it gets too quiet, you know, you should check.”
“So you want me to keep my music down and my door open.”
“Can you do that?”
It was clearly instinctive for her to doubt his capabilities. To ask for his help, Ms. Self-Reliance had to be desperate.
He straightened and stopped his teasing. “Listen, let Max know the plan. I’ll put on some clothes and take him to the park or something. How long will you be gone?”
“Six.” She turned away. “Thank you.”
He left the door open and drifted back into his bedroom to find some shorts and flip-flops. Her accepting his help was a slight admission of his usefulness, and he contemplated how to take advantage of his minor victory.
Also Available
Author Bio
Kate has lived most of her life along the California coast. That experience has made her a jeans-wearing, toes in wet-sand, married to a surfer, fog-loving weather wimp, with a hint of East Coast polish from spending her college years in Boston. Family history connects her to Irish and English immigrants, Cornish miners, gold prospectors, and adventurers who sailed around Cape Horn bound for San Francisco.
When she's not reading, writing or brainstorming, Kate walks in the redwoods, feed birds, collect books, apples and leaves; she watches tele-novellas on Spanish-language TV and immerses herself in all things English. Her favorite food groups are butter, brown sugar, dark chocolate, and red wine. Kate's early literary influences were The Little Engine That Could, The Little Red Hen, and Winnie the Pooh. Austen, Heyer, Chaucer, and Homer came later and inspired her to put that first plot on paper.
Kate's heroes are honorable, virile outsiders with some grand ambition; her heroines are practical princesses, who drive those edgy loners into love with good sense and good sex.
Her family and friends offer endless support and humor. Kate says her children are her best works, and her husband is her favorite hero.
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153 days: How long Heath McBride and Mallory Alcott were together.
4,384 days: Their time apart.
When he last saw her she was lying in a hospital bed, purpled with bruises, sewn together with crude stitches, and unconscious of his presence at her side. Heath figured he’d never see her again. That’s what happened to teenage love ripped apart by a cross-country move. But when Mallory shows up in California twelve years later, he knows he can’t last another minute without her. And Mallory feels it, too. But they’ve both let others into their hearts to fill the absence, and they’re not the same naïve kids from before. Time has changed them, but has it changed their love? Is it possible, after more than a decade apart, to pick up where they left off?
I’m a writer. I’m a photographer. I love to photograph about what I write and write about what I photograph.
I’m fueled by Diet Coke and an overactive imagination.
I can’t do without the S.F. Giants, my mini iPad with the kindle app, and a daily dose of snuggles with my hundred pound Golden Retriever.
And I love LOVE.
Like seriously adore those butterflies you get when you think about that first kiss or when you held hands with someone you’d been crushing on for years. Even if it was cringeworthy and terrible, there’s just nothing quite like connecting with another human being on that nervous, hesitant level. Relationships are complex and wonderful and scary, and I get a rush each time I have a chance to write about them and all of their layers.
I get to document life with my keyboard and my camera, and I’m blessed beyond belief that I can do both for a living.
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