Scarred
LeTeisha Newton
(Lost Series, #2)
Publication date: May 4th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Romance
They told me about Ethan.
He’s no good.
He only knew darkness.
He’s a killer.
But that’s exactly what I need.
Only a monster can turn me into one. I’ve bled and screamed. I’ve been the victim too long. The scars that are visible only conceal the more painful ones on the soul. If he could help me save myself and learn to fight again, then he can have whatever he wants from me. My body. My soul. My heart. Later, he’ll realize that I had the better end of the bargain.
WARNING: This is a dark romance. It contains violence, filthy words, dubious consent, and potential triggers for readers. Please be aware of that when purchasing this book. This story is about being careful what you ask for, because you’ll get exactly what you need, instead of what you want.
SNEAK A PEEK AT SCARRED:
“It’s a little late for you to be working out still, River. Rest periods are for exactly that, rest.”
She slowed the treadmill to a walk and stepped to the side. Never turning around to face me, she took a swig from her water bottle and meticulously closed the cap.“I don’t need rest. It’s been six months, Ethan, and I know that eventually Derrick is going to find me. I don’t have the luxury of resting.”
“Pantera,” I corrected her.
She turned then, watching me with a question in her eyes. “Why do they call you that?”
“Because it’s my name, and it’s the one you will use.”
“Ethan Kendall is your name, and I’ve been calling you that the whole time,” she said. She had fire, I’d give her that. But this was my world, my rules. Ethan was a man I wasn’t. A figment of a cracked memory that didn’t mean shit anymore.
“Do you know what Pantera means?” I asked her. My glide toward her was slow. I paused at random intervals, stalking her, pushing her. She was prey. She fought hard not to be, but I still smelled weakness on her, on the edges of her anger. She was always afraid, terrified of what was coming, and not knowing what the result would be. It was that fear that would destroy her.
That fear drew me in.
“Panther,” she said. “I looked it up on the laptop you gave me.”
“I earned that name, River. Carved it out in skin and made my enemies regret ever trespassing against me. What have you done? What have you been made to survive that would ever make you think you could stand on even ground with me?”
I could feel the heat of her anger, but it didn’t stop me. It couldn’t. Anger wasn’t what made me the demon that I was. It was pure, cold, unfiltered hopelessness forged into a blade to cut my way through life.
“You’ve never asked what I went through before,” she said.
I shook my head. “Because it doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”
“You cared enough to take me on after you saw me in the hospital,” she returned.
“That’s where you’re wrong, River. So wrong. I enjoy playing with my food. Your every breath marks you as a victim. Every time you freeze when Pavel attacks you from behind, I know you will fail. And every second you look at me with those fearful eyes, I know that whatever Derrick did, he did because you let him.”
She roared her anger, and I laughed. Even as she leapt at me, swinging her right fist hard, I enjoyed her anger. She was smart, sweeping her left leg to take me down, but I twisted my body into her so we were chest to chest. I sensed the shift in her stance and blocked her knee angled for my crotch and wrapped my arm around her neck.
“You can’t beat me, River. You never could.”
Two seconds. That was all it took to take her to the ground. And then she was under me, punching, twisting, and fighting to get away. I let her do nothing. I splayed out above her, pushing her into the mat beneath us. Then I gripped one wrist and planted it above her head. She fought harder, raking her nails down the side of my neck before I could grab that wrist too.
“You have claws, detenysh, but not like mine.”
I bit down on the soft spot of her neck, where it met her shoulder. Her pulse throbbed against my tongue. She screamed, but I didn’t clamp down. I didn’t need to draw blood or hurt her to prove my point. But, somehow, I lost what I had been trying to convey. Between her scent, filled with lavender, and the feel of her body against mine, I noticed her as a man would.
Her breasts were smashed against my chest, but I could feel their fullness. I was cradled in her thighs, a position that went from thinking of the fighting front mount stance, to darker needs. Blood rushed through my veins and pooled into my dick, short circuiting any rational thought.
I wanted her.
I eased my teeth off her and licked over the abused flesh. She froze, a casualty to my strength, my desire, and I couldn’t stop. I traced my way over her jaw and nipped her chin. Her small gasp was all the permission I needed to take her mouth with mine.
Flavor blasted over my taste buds. How long had it been since I kissed a woman? Since I felt one give under my hands? Of all the ones I’d known, I couldn’t place her taste. It was wild and free, and tinted with tears. I knew that place.
Between youth and cynical maturation brought on by fear.
I’d been there.
She was at a precipice she didn’t even realize. She wanted me to make her a killer and all I could think about was taking her body with mine. How fucked up was I that I wouldn’t stop?
I wanted to punish her for making me want something that shouldn’t exist in my life any more. My life was an abyss and she wouldn’t survive it. I hated her for wanting to make me try.
Author Bio:
So I think this is the part where I'm supposed to say something super cool, win you over, and make you my life-long superfan...OR wait, is that how I am about my anime collection?
Probably.
Basically, I'm an author, blogger, geek, and villain lover (Joker IS MINE!). There shouldn't be any surprise then that I tend to love my heroes a bit broken, all messed up, and in need of someone who understands them just the way they are.
Ha, my heroines are right there with them. You see, love is nice, it's sweet. It can be all rainbows and glowing stars. And then it can be dark, twisted, hurtful, and feel so good you have to scream about it. So I write like that. From one side of the spectrum to the other, because that's real. That's life. And that's what we crave--delving into a fantasy world or not.
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Shot to Hell
Cynthia Rayne
(Four Horsemen MC #7)
Publication date: May 9th 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Love thy enemy.
Steele spent his high school years under the Friday night lights in Poteet, Texas. He went from hometown hero to jarhead in a matter of weeks, taking his best buddy, Abe, with him. After Abe died in combat, Steele quit the Corps and became a member of the Four Horsemen MC. Now his brother and best friend, Coyote, has been taken by a rival MC and Steele fears the worst. To save his brother, he calls in Ashton Calhoun. She works as a security contractor and specializes and kicking asses and crossing off names.
As a teenager, Ash fell hard for Steele. But that went south when his carelessness led to Abe’s death. They’re now bitter enemies and there’s plenty of unfinished business between them. Can Ash and Steele find Coyote before it’s too late? And will these enemies become lovers?
EXCERPT:
“Ashton Calhoun,” Steele whispered.
He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen her since Abe’s funeral. Abe Calhoun’s younger twin sister. Abe had been born three minutes earlier, so he’d taken on the role of big brother.“I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays.” Steele stood and dragged her along with him.
He examined her more closely in the hazy light. He’d know Ash anywhere, even if she’d changed over the years. She stood about five and a half feet tall with brown hair pinned tight to her head and the same vivid green eyes. Most noticeably, she now had a long jagged scar on the right side from her hairline to chin. While the skin must’ve knit together long ago, it’d left a deep groove in her pretty face.
Ash stared right back at him, studying him. “As I live and breathe, Jack Steele. I thought you looked familiar, but I wondered if my mind was playin’ tricks on me.”
Or maybe she’d wanted to fuck with him. He certainly deserved it.
Ash didn’t look angry, exactly—more like stunned, a bit wary. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been empty, hollowed out by grief at her brother’s funeral. He’d tried to approach her afterward, wanting to say something—anything—to ease her pain, but she’d walked away from him and right out of his life. They hadn’t spoken since.
Damn, but the military agreed with her.
She was hotter than he remembered—sleek and sexy. She was leaner, meaner, and practically dripping bad-assery with her big gun and tight fatigues. She’d dropped a couple pounds and replaced it with whip-corded muscle. After he had a few minutes to get used to the scar, he might get into it—it gave her a dangerous air.
Justice still brandished his weapon. “You two know each other?”
“Yeah. You can stand down. She’s cool, man.”
“Chilly, you might say.” Then came her familiar sub-zero expression—colder than a cast-iron commode in the winter.
“Uh…Steele?” Justice piped up. “She don’t look so friendly.”
Yeah, he could read it in the curl of her lip, the indifference in her gaze. Ash hated his ass, and she had every right to, but at least she wasn’t empty. Pissed off was better than grief-stricken.
Steele smiled at her, giving her a taste of his charm, hoping he’d thaw her out some. “Naw. Don’t worry. Me and Ash go way back. Trust me, she’s not a threat.”
“Wanna bet?”
She socked him in the nose, snapping his head back.
Author Bio:
**Stay up to date on all things Four Horsemen by signing up for the newsletter at cynthiarayne.com.***
Cynthia Rayne is a USA Today bestselling author and co author of the Amazon bestselling Four Horsemen MC series. Cynthia Rayne's first erotic book was written when she was thirteen. Of course, the most risqué scene involved kissing, but it was the talk of her middle school! In her spare time, she enjoys dating, shopping, reading way too many romance novels, and drinking a truly obscene amount of coffee.
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Ayden King has no one to blame but himself. He took the fall for his best friend and after fifteen years in prison, he’s finally out and determined to turn his life around. Locked up when he was barely 18, he went in a nice, innocent kid, and came out a hardened bad boy with an attitude. But Ayden never expected that life on the outside would turn out like this. Autumn Bishop has worked her way to the top. She doesn’t have time for games or players, but that’s exactly what she’s surrounded herself with and when Ayden King stumbles into her life, she learns that you can’t always judge a person by their conviction. She finds herself turned off and turned on at the same time. Conviction is a steamy, bad boy romance filled with twists and turns. 
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Win a $25 Amazon Giftcard and Signed Paperback copy of Conviction by Ellie Danes
Title: Fall Back Skyward
Series: Fall Back #1
Author: Autumn Grey
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 9, 2016
Blurb
Eleven years ago, I saved her. I loved her. I still do. But they took me away from her and locked me up. For two years, all I could think about was her. She consumed me. Took up every room in my head and gave me something to focus on, knowing I would see her soon.
Nine years ago, I watched her as she walked down the aisle and into the arms of a man that wasn't me. My brother. I promised him that I'd leave town.
I did and never looked back.
Now, I'm staring at seven letters, each envelope stamped with one word in bold, red ink: URGENT.
I have no choice but to go back home. Seeing her will be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do. But in order to reconcile with my past, I have to face my present. Even if the thought of seeing her, knowing that she is out of my reach, kills me.
I have no idea what awaits me, but I can only hope that the demons of my past will finally be buried and put to rest.
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Excerpt
The air around me shifts, like atoms rearranging themselves to accommodate a potent, powerful entity. My eyes snap open. I swing my head around to my right and there, lying next to me calmly as though it’s something completely normal, is Cole Holloway.
I bolt upright and turn to face him. "How did you get up here?" He doesn't respond. Then I remember that he can't hear me. I touch his arm, making sure he can see my lips. Thank goodness the moon is full tonight. He tilts his head to the side to look at me. "How did you get up here?"
He points to the side of the building. I follow his finger and see the white ladder poking at the roof. Ah, I'd completely forgotten about it.
He turns his head and faces the sky. Holding my breath, I study his profile; his sharp nose and angular jaw. A faint scent of musk cologne drifts toward me, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end.
Dragging my gaze from his face, I look up at the infinite dark sky and I smile. Every part of me is centered on him. His movements. Every rise and fall of his chest doubles my heart beat until the only sound that fills my senses is my pulse pounding in my ears.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Seconds, minutes, probably hours go by. Centuries could pass. Seasons could come and go, but I wouldn’t notice, because this is the most spellbinding moment I’ve ever experienced in my seventeen years on this earth.
Something fleetingly touches the back of my hand, startling me.
There it is again. A soft touch along the side of my pinkie. My skin is on fire now. My heart is in my throat and my lungs are nowhere near working right. The touch is firm now. Deliberate. He hooks his pinkie around mine and tugs gently. Then he exhales hard, and I swear the roof moves beneath our bodies. Suddenly, the finger uncoils from mine, leaving me cold. I blink several times before twisting, turning my head to the side to look at him.
Did I imagine that touch?
I glance down and see that his hand is curled into a fist at his side. He sits up, then turns slightly to the side to face me. His face is framed in shadows so I can’t see it clearly. A shiver skitters down my back as he leans forward without warning until I feel his quick breath fan my lips, his eyes on my mouth the entire time. He takes a tendril of the hair fanned around my head and rubs it between his fingers, his eyes not leaving mine. I’m captivated by his eyes, his overwhelming presence. I should scold him for being too forward and getting into my space, but I can't. I'm mesmerized by the inhales and exhales passing through his parted lips.
He lets go of my hair and climbs to his feet with the agility and swiftness of a panther. Between one breath and the next, he’s gone, disappearing into the night as quietly as he came. Taking with him a tiny piece of my heart. As odd as it sounds, I feel a certain connection to this quiet boy.
I attempt to prop my upper body on my elbows so I can watch him as he walks back to his house, but they feel too jelly-like. I settle back on the roof, grinning and listening to the muffled crunch of his shoes on the grass until it fades.
I bolt upright and turn to face him. "How did you get up here?" He doesn't respond. Then I remember that he can't hear me. I touch his arm, making sure he can see my lips. Thank goodness the moon is full tonight. He tilts his head to the side to look at me. "How did you get up here?"
He points to the side of the building. I follow his finger and see the white ladder poking at the roof. Ah, I'd completely forgotten about it.
He turns his head and faces the sky. Holding my breath, I study his profile; his sharp nose and angular jaw. A faint scent of musk cologne drifts toward me, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end.
Dragging my gaze from his face, I look up at the infinite dark sky and I smile. Every part of me is centered on him. His movements. Every rise and fall of his chest doubles my heart beat until the only sound that fills my senses is my pulse pounding in my ears.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Seconds, minutes, probably hours go by. Centuries could pass. Seasons could come and go, but I wouldn’t notice, because this is the most spellbinding moment I’ve ever experienced in my seventeen years on this earth.
Something fleetingly touches the back of my hand, startling me.
There it is again. A soft touch along the side of my pinkie. My skin is on fire now. My heart is in my throat and my lungs are nowhere near working right. The touch is firm now. Deliberate. He hooks his pinkie around mine and tugs gently. Then he exhales hard, and I swear the roof moves beneath our bodies. Suddenly, the finger uncoils from mine, leaving me cold. I blink several times before twisting, turning my head to the side to look at him.
Did I imagine that touch?
I glance down and see that his hand is curled into a fist at his side. He sits up, then turns slightly to the side to face me. His face is framed in shadows so I can’t see it clearly. A shiver skitters down my back as he leans forward without warning until I feel his quick breath fan my lips, his eyes on my mouth the entire time. He takes a tendril of the hair fanned around my head and rubs it between his fingers, his eyes not leaving mine. I’m captivated by his eyes, his overwhelming presence. I should scold him for being too forward and getting into my space, but I can't. I'm mesmerized by the inhales and exhales passing through his parted lips.
He lets go of my hair and climbs to his feet with the agility and swiftness of a panther. Between one breath and the next, he’s gone, disappearing into the night as quietly as he came. Taking with him a tiny piece of my heart. As odd as it sounds, I feel a certain connection to this quiet boy.
I attempt to prop my upper body on my elbows so I can watch him as he walks back to his house, but they feel too jelly-like. I settle back on the roof, grinning and listening to the muffled crunch of his shoes on the grass until it fades.
Author Bio
Autumn Grey is the author of the Havoc series (Havoc, Obliterate, Mend). And just like her characters, she is quirky, sometimes funny and definitely flawed. She writes sexy contemporary romances full of drama, steamy kisses and happy ever afters.
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Title: Midnight Sun
Series: The Midnight Trilogy / McKenna Chronicles #3
Author: Elizabeth Miller
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: May 7, 2016
Blurb
When sheltered journalist Charlie Carter first met the brooding and enigmatic presidential hopeful Colin McKenna, it ignited a passionate affair that set both their lives racing in a new, yet terrifying direction. Hunted by her past, Charlie was forced to face her fears and the stalker who could have ruined the future she barely hoped to have. Determined to lay history to rest, she overcame those obstacles to claim her spot next to the influential man she loves.
Now, with the presidential campaign behind them, Colin and Charlie have it all—power, passion and a love so true nothing could come between them. With the grandeur of the wedding approaching, Charlie is swallowed by the enormity of becoming American royalty. She knows living in the White House with all its scrutiny won’t be easy, but she’s secure with herself and with Colin.
Just when everything settles into a new normal, and it appears nothing can eclipse their bond, the unthinkable happens. Colin’s worst nightmare is brought to life. He must race to save the one woman who brought order to his world and a happiness he never thought possible. With history seeming to repeat itself, Colin fights to hold them together and prepare for a new life that could possibly be the end of Charlie's.
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Excerpt
I try desperately to form a plan on how to seduce my husband. The first day it’s a lingerie fashion show after we go for a hike. I pull out the pieces I brought and go so far as to have a personal shopper in town bring me more. Nothing, no go—he’s stoic yet quite responsive to the barest of lace. My breasts are full, sensitive, darker at the tips, and I beg him to massage them. It’s equal parts pain and exquisite pleasure.
It’s cloudy and damp on day two. We work side by side in the kitchen to make dinner, vegetarian lasagna because meat isn’t sitting well with me. While it’s in the oven, I slip away to get dressed in a gown way too fancy for a weekday meal, but it’s sexy and clingy satin that plunges to my belly button.
I pass by his shoulder to whisper that I’m sans bra and panties. Steam may come out of his ears, but instead of throwing me down on the counter and having me for dinner, he turns me in a twirl. There is no music, only his voice as this time he sings to me. The tables are turned with his breath on my neck and his hands scraping down my back. I can feel every line of his body, the ridges of his chest and stomach, and the not-so-subtle signs of his own desire that has turned into a constant rubbing terror. Oh, for the love of all that’s holy. I’m burning up. He must see it in my eyes, as he swings us outside while the sky opens. We dance, or at this point sway, pressed together in the rain until we’re soaked and I’m putting on my own dirty show. It ends with a low dip and his tongue streaking down my chest. That’s it—nothing else.
The rest of our vacation is more of the same. He works a few hours each day and I play the guitar, singing until I’m hoarse. Hiking, swimming, golf—they’re all on the agenda. We’ve finished relentless bouts of Scrabble and Monopoly, but he always wins so I’m intent on victory with my own game.
Tuesday and every day thereafter, he tries to wear me out mentally and physically, so I bring out Cosmo and implement my tactics. I even leave the magazine open to the best articles, hoping that’s what we’ll read at naptime. I get significant use out of my highest heels—five-inch black platforms—with no clothes on, of course—eat a ton of bananas, and still face nothing but furtive looks and low grumbles.
Day twelve and I take on a new tactic—kissing. Oh, dear sweet baby Jesus, I love kissing Colin McKenna. And so I do. Every chance I get my tongue is in his mouth.
It’s a game between us. Who can make the other more desperate and needy? He stops me in the hall before lunch to grab me. A quick, passionate kiss leaves me breathless with delayed desire—a gift that keeps on giving. He moves on to do God-knows-what and I’m stuck against the wall, shifting restlessly for any kind of friction to alleviate the constant ache between my thighs. I start the laundry with an attitude and a huff, and then I stalk into the kitchen and jump him. Hands in his hair, I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him until I’m on the verge of finding Shangri-La. But he pushes me away, mumbling something about me not being ready.
My response lies in our bedroom, drawer number two in the dresser to be exact, and it barely takes up space. The skimpiest bikini known to man looks good on me, really, really good. It’s white against my newfound tan with triangles that barely cover all my good parts, and I strut out to the pool. I walk by Colin with a cool air of confidence and a tap to his backside. When he retreats, I dive in the pool for relief. The man makes me hot.
When he arrives, sexy as sin in his own Lycra suit that hugs his glutes and quads, I start my backstroke and mumble about the weather, the trees, the sweet birds to steer my thoughts away from my husband. My husband, I want to scream. The man who must satisfy all my desires.
But when he starts critiquing my backstroke, arms behind his head, legs out and crossed at the ankle on a lounger, I can’t stop. I tell myself I should, but he’s so tempting, so distracting, I end my midday swim and leap at him. He catches me with a grunt and darkening eyes. Our mouths connect and the angels sing Hallelujah. Or maybe it’s me humming my praise. Straddling him, I claw my way up his bare chest, my nails scraping his skin now wet from mine, with the oh-so-thin fabric of our swimsuits as the only thing keeping his thing from sinking into my thing. I’ve lost track of where he ends and I begin. Is that my heartbeat or his? His groan or mine?
I don’t know how I could be more ready. The pool of natural resources collecting on his upper thigh is a sure indicator I’m well prepared and that is only a slight exaggeration. If he doesn’t touch me, really touch me, I’m going to self-combust. What kind of husband would let his wife expire from want?
His grip loosens and the pressure of his mouth fades. Oh, God. “Don’t slow down. No, please,” I beg, but he does, releasing the hold his teeth had on my bottom lip and rubbing his nose over mine, all the while his eyes stay stuck on my parted mouth. His expression is rigid, fighting for control in the flex of his jaw. I bite the tip of his finger when it nears my lips, then I suck on it, and get into a good, deep rhythm.
“That’s enough.” Colin’s voice could grate granite into pebbles. “You win.”
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Men like him don't exist in the real world, but they do in Washington. Perfect smile. Perfect manners. Tall, broad and beautiful. The most powerful Senator in DC is seeking the White House. And he wants me to help him get there.
Me. Charlie Carter, sister, daughter, a pseudo-journalist from a small town with limited experience. He's a god among men. Colin McKenna isn't the boy next door—he's the lion ready to slaughter the lamb. I should run, bury myself under the years that have slipped by, but the new whirlwind of opportunity his offer holds entices the prey from her hiding spot.
I give in. And because we're both a little bit broken, we fall, and it's fast and hard and intense. But just as the campaign gets going, things start to fall apart. Someone is intent on breaking us. Not just breaking us up, but destroying our hope for a future. My secrets, his advisers, and the past conspire together, and it seems they'll succeed.
Or will they?
The Midnight Series is an intense, sexy romance with a dash of intrigue and loads of emotion from author Elizabeth Miller. This thrilling, complete series is at times laugh out loud funny, it sizzles between the sheets and drops one surprise after another. Midnight is not a political drama, nor does it delve deeply into politics. Prepare for an epic romance about two people with disparate lives trying to come together. It's for the 17+ crowd.
Me. Charlie Carter, sister, daughter, a pseudo-journalist from a small town with limited experience. He's a god among men. Colin McKenna isn't the boy next door—he's the lion ready to slaughter the lamb. I should run, bury myself under the years that have slipped by, but the new whirlwind of opportunity his offer holds entices the prey from her hiding spot.
I give in. And because we're both a little bit broken, we fall, and it's fast and hard and intense. But just as the campaign gets going, things start to fall apart. Someone is intent on breaking us. Not just breaking us up, but destroying our hope for a future. My secrets, his advisers, and the past conspire together, and it seems they'll succeed.
Or will they?
The Midnight Series is an intense, sexy romance with a dash of intrigue and loads of emotion from author Elizabeth Miller. This thrilling, complete series is at times laugh out loud funny, it sizzles between the sheets and drops one surprise after another. Midnight is not a political drama, nor does it delve deeply into politics. Prepare for an epic romance about two people with disparate lives trying to come together. It's for the 17+ crowd.
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Author Bio
She wears many hats. Some include wife, mother of two small boys, writer, reader, lover of gummy bears and Henry Cavill. She’s a proud Indie author who adores a broken hero, a feisty heroine, and lots and lots of sexy times. In 2013 she decided to flex her writing muscles and began her debut novel: Midnight. Published in 2014, she continues writing sweet romantic, okay maybe a little bit erotic, suspenseful adult contemporary novels with characters you’re destined to fall in love with. Connect with EM, she loves to chat with readers.
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