Alpha Book Club

Friday, November 6, 2015

Sentenced by L. L. Collins

Title: Sentenced

Author: L.L. Collins

Genre: Contemporary Romance/Erotic Romance

Release Date: November 2, 2015

Blurb

THE BAD BOY: I’m Johnny. An ex-con with a bad attitude and a controlling demeanor that somehow made the women flock to my bed but never my heart. It was unavailable for possession.

THE TEMPTATION: She was just supposed to be a two day hookup. But one taste of her and I knew I was in danger of never getting enough. She has her own demons to contend with, and dealing with my own was hard enough. I won’t allow temptation to take control of me.

THE SENTENCE: I'd given myself a life sentence a long time ago, and she made me want things I wouldn't allow myself to have. Giving into it just might destroy us both.

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Excerpt

“I’m going to have her before they leave,” I said presumptuously.

I felt Cal looking at me. “Oh, boy.”

“What?”

“You haven’t read much about her, have you?”

That caught my attention. “What does that mean? Is she a lesbian or something?” That would abso-fucking-lutely kill me.

He cackled. “No, bro. She’s a ball buster, man. No one gives that woman shit. She has quite a reputation. She’s respected as hell, but no one crosses her.”

I scoffed. “We’ll see about that.” After all, she was a hot woman. She had to be used to being hit on. And she’d want to be hit on by me. Plus, I didn’t want anything from her other than her body. The nice part was, she was traveling after this. Maybe she’d end up in the Denver area or back here in Florida, and we could hook up again.

Cal whistled. “I want to be around when she cuts off your balls and shoves them in your mouth.”

I rolled my eyes. “She can’t be that bad. Look at her. She’s probably a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Cal said. “I’m going to grab some more beer from the back.”

“Need help?” I didn’t say it convincingly, and he knew it.

“Nope. You stay here and daydream. That’s about all you’re going to get.”

“You watch and see,” I said. “She’ll come to me.”

Author Bio

L.L. Collins loves spending her days in the Florida sun with her husband and two boys, reading, and writing. LL has been writing since she was old enough to write. Always a story in her head, she finally decided to let the characters out made her lifelong dream of becoming an author come true in the self-publishing world. She's the author of the Living Again Series and the Twisted Series, plus a new standalone, Back to the Drawing Board. Visit LL on her website, www.llcollinsauthor.com and on all social media. Look for more of her emotionally charged novels soon!

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Addiction by Shantel Tessier

Title: Addiction

Series: Seven Deadly Sins #1

Author: Shantel Tessier

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Cover Design: Sommer Stein with Perfect Pear Creative

Photographer: Dave Kelly Artistics

Cover Models: Lance Jones & Jami Watts

Release Date: November 17, 2015

EARLY PRAISE FOR ADDICTION

“Pulled in from page one and I'm still addicted to this book even after finishing it. The twists and turns Shantel takes you on will have your head spinning and your heart pounding.” ~ Judy Miracle

“If you’re looking for a new Addiction then this is the book for you!! Shantel will have you Addicted by the first chapter. I couldn’t put it down.” ~ Kelly Tucker

“Addiction is a great story with lots twists and turns that will be sure to keep you on your toes.” ~ Rachael Duncan (Author)

Blurb

I’m a sinner with no regrets.
I’m a man with no shame.
I’m a lover with no soul.
What am I?

You’re a loner with no friends.

You’re a beggar with no place to go.
You’re a face with no name.
Who are you?

It doesn’t really matter what I am or who you are. Everyone has sin in common. But I pride myself on doing it better. Through the eyes of another, I am envied. If they only knew the wrath I have endured. Greed can be a motherfucker, but it is what makes us strive to be better. Lust can make you burn, but without it you would freeze to death. Some of us are a glutton for punishment and want to feel the pain that reminds us we’re still alive rather than overcome by sloth.

The lure of these seven deadly sins is like an addiction. And I intend to indulge in each of these unforgivable sins.

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Excerpt

I cross my arms over my chest, getting more comfortable. “Come in,” I call out.

The door opens, and she comes walking in as if she owns the place. Shoulders pulled back and chin up. She is dressed much differently than she was last night, but it doesn’t change the fact she’s beautiful. She’s pulled her long, dark hair up into a messy ponytail with loose pieces framing her flawless face. She has an oversized white t-shirt on that hangs off one shoulder. The color of her bra strap gets my attention. Black—my favorite color. She’s wearing a pair of black yoga pants that hugs her thin legs. Even though they cover more of her legs than her shorts did from last night, they seem more sexual. More intimate in a way that makes me want to peel them off her slowly.

“I need to have a word with you …” I arch a brow at her hard tone even though it did sound cute “… sir,” she adds a little softer, and I hide my smile. So she doesn’t have as much backbone as she wants me to think she has.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” I say as I stand. I reach out my right hand toward her. “My name is …”

She holds up her hand stopping me. “I know who you are.” She cocks a dark eyebrow. “A word?” She’s all business.

I smirk as I sit back down. “Of course. And please, call me Case.” I gesture to the chair that sits across my desk.

“I’ll stand. This won’t take long.” She takes in a deep breath, and I allow myself a quick look at her large chest hidden behind that t-shirt. I can’t touch her, but I sure as hell can enjoy the view.

“What can I do for you?” I ask with amusement. I can think of several things I could do for her, all of which would require her being naked and bent over my desk. I rub my hands on my thighs as I feel my cock start to harden at the thought of her, open-mouthed, moaning in pleasure.

“My brother told me that he owes you.” She gets right to the point.

My face hardens at that statement. My amusement is replaced with anger. What else did he tell her? “I don’t see where what business I have with your brother is any of yours,” I say flatly.

She crosses her arms over her chest and lets out a huff. The motion blows the dark strands around her face. “That is where you are wrong. I don’t know what he owes you, but I’m willing to pay it.”

I refrain from chuckling at that. I lean forward and place my forearms on my desk. She quickly scans the tattoos on my arms and then looks back at me. “Taylor…”

“Call me Miss Williams,” she informs me lifting her chin.

“Miss Williams, I assure you that you cannot pay what he owes me.”

I watch as her tough act starts to unravel. “I don’t have a lot of money, that’s true. But maybe I can make payments,” she offers, her voice sounding more desperate than demanding.

I shake my head. “This isn’t about money.”

She stomps her foot, and I chuckle. Her beautiful blue eyes narrow on me as she uncrosses her arms and points an angry finger at me. “Name your price!” she demands. “Everyone has a price.”

If she only knew how right she is, but I say, “There is no price.”

She throws her arms out to her side. “I came here …” She pauses as she looks around the room as if it can give her some sort of an answer. Then she mutters a curse in frustration. When she looks back up at me, she looks desperate. Her eyes have softened, making them look lighter than they are. Her lips part as she breathes in a sigh, and her shoulders slump in defeat. And I hate that I like the way it looks. That it makes me feel like she needs me. That I hold all the answers. Too bad she’s not gonna get them.

Author Bio

Shantel is a Texas born girl who now lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma with her high school sweetheart, who is a wonderful, supportive husband and their four year old little princess. She loves to spend time cuddled up on the couch with a good book

She has published five books in the Undescribable series and 2 books in the DASH series. She considers herself extremely lucky to get to be a stay at home wife and mother. Going to concerts and the movies are just a few of her favorite things to do. She hates coffee, but loves wine. She and her husband are both huge football fans, college and NFL. And she has to feed her high heel a

Dear Professor by Blaire Drake

Dear Professor,

Does it bother you that you’re ten years older than me?

Have you ever thought it’s wrong that you watched me fuck another guy on camera for months?

What do you want from me, really? All I wanted was my letter of recommendation, but now I’m stuck, aren’t I? Stuck under your thumb… And your body.

From cam girl to personal whore, and all by the age of twenty-one. You’ve got me good, haven’t you?

But guess what? I can play too. Grab the polish, because I’ve found your skeleton, and it's time to dust.

I’ll see you in class.

Oh and, Sir? I’m not wearing any panties.

Love, Darcy

P.s. you’re an asshole.

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His electric blue eyes focused on me, and in the bright hue of his gaze, the rest of his office seemed to melt away. I had no idea how he kept doing that to me—it was almost as if he were casting a spell over me, hypnotizing me with nothing more than a glance. My heart thumped loudly in my chest at the lust I saw burning back at me. That hard-edged, animalistic lust that secretly drove me wild. I’d never tell him that. I was certain of it. I’d never give him that much power over me. He already had enough. “What’s wrong, sir?” I asked as I coyly twirled a piece of my hair around my finger. “You’re starting to piss me off, Darcy,” he shot at me. The rough edge to his voice rumbled through the air between us until it hit me full-force. His words crawled over my skin, and each one carried the whispered promise. Or maybe it was a threat; I couldn’t tell. “How can I piss you off? I haven’t done anything.” It was a petulant response, I knew that, but I didn’t care. He pushed up out of his chair and stalked around his desk. I inhaled sharply, but he swept right past me and toward his door. Just when I thought he might pull it open and send me on my way, he turned the lock. The click echoed through the air, and it did nothing for the butterflies that were rapidly fluttering in my stomach. I hated him. It was getting clearer and clearer to me every day. I despised Professor Jordan Keaton, but I also craved him as badly as I needed my next breath. He didn’t look at me as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the hook on the door. He still didn’t look at me as he unbuttoned the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt and rolled them up to above his elbows. His upper arms seemed to strain against the fabric, his toned biceps becoming delightfully visible. “Now, let’s try this again,” he said, his voice deathly low. It scared me and thrilled me all at the same time. “Have a little think, Darcy. Imagine why I might possibly be pissed off with you.” I dropped the lock of hair I was twirling and looked at his pants. The bulge gave his attraction to me away. “I’m standing in front of you as opposed to being on my knees with your cock in my mouth?” He jerked his head around, piercing me with those eyes. “Keep running your mouth, sweet thing. I dare you.” “Or what? Really, what are you going to do to me in your office, Professor? Give me lines? Make me write an essay on why young ladies should be seen and not heard?” His jaw ticked, his lips tightening, and he moved toward me so quickly I took a step backward. It was useless, though, like I knew it would be. The grip he had on my wrist was so certain, the tug toward him so strong, that I couldn’t fight him. My body slammed into his, and no sooner had the air rushed from my body than he pulled the skirt of my dress up. Cold air flitted across my bare backside, but it was replaced almost instantly with one sharp smack. My pussy clenched, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself whimpering. In pain or pleasure—I had no clue. “That,” he growled into my ear. “That is what I’ll do if you keep sassing me, Miss Hamilton.” I wondered if he knew how strongly I was considering continuing to sass him just for that purpose. I would do that later—I needed to know what had got him so riled. “Understood,” I said in a softer tone. “What did I do?” He let go of my dress and slid his hand up my back. His breath was hot against my skin as he sunk his fingers into my hair and turned me around so my back was to him. “Last night,” he replied, his lips close to my ear. “Your little show.” “That’s my job.” He tugged on my hair. “Did you ask me?” “You’re not my boss, Jordan. Neither are you my fucking keeper.” His grip grew tighter, so much so that my head tilted back. “Darcy. Did. You. Fucking. Ask. Me?” “No,” I ground out, my jaw clamped tightly. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you really fucking think I wouldn’t know that you were spending your night in front of your camera, with your finger rubbing that little clit of yours?” Roughly, he pushed his hand beneath my dress and teased his fingertips along the line of my panties. “Did you think you’d be able to walk into my classroom today and I wouldn’t know that at least one or two of those students hadn’t watched you as you fucked your own fingers?” “No,” I breathed out, my lips parting as his hand dipped beneath my panties. The tip of one of his fingers ghosted across my clit, and it sent a bolt of pleasure through me. “I didn’t hear you,” he rasped in my ear, flicking his finger across my clit. “No,” I repeat, this time more forcefully. “I knew you would. And I didn’t give a shit.” I gasped as he pushed down hard on the sensitive spot. “We made a deal,” he reminded me, his tone tight with anger… And thick with desire. “And you won’t let me forget it.” “Damn straight I won’t.” He pulled his hand from between my legs but kept me in place with his grip on my hair. “Now are you going to renege on it again or are you going to behave yourself?” “From the man who just had his fingers on a student’s clit?” “You’re pushing me, Darcy.” I reached behind me, between us, and cupped his long, hard cock with my hand. The zipper of his pants pushed into my palm, and I traced my thumb down the side of his erection. “I’m not the only thing pushing, am I?” “Fuck.” He hissed the word out, and the next thing I knew, my dress was being lifted up, and he let go of my hair. My hands slammed against his desk as he bent me forward and moved my panties to the side. He’d barely touched me, but I could feel my pussy throbbing in anticipation of what was to come. I knew this would be a cold, hard fuck, designed to remind me who I belonged to. Who, for all intents and purposes, owned my body. It would be a reminder and a punishment, all because I dared to take control of myself for one night and defy him. Jordan’s movements were as smooth as always, and he spread one of my ass cheeks with a strong hand. His fingertips dug in almost painfully, but I didn’t care, because I sighed in relief as he pushed his hard, thick cock inside me. “Now, this is how this is gonna work,” he rasped into my ear as he grasped my hair and tugged. “Since you’ve forgotten, Darcy, you need a reminder, don’t you?” I didn’t dare answer. The question was rhetorical. Besides, I was already practically panting from his swift invasion of my body. “Now, I’m gonna fuck you.” I swallowed and glanced at the shadows of people walking past his office door, a tiny lock and frosted glass providing us limited privacy. I’d known it was coming, sure, but now we were here, silent, and I could hear the people outside… I couldn’t deny the excitement that swept through my body at the thought we could be interrupted any second. That someone could walk right up to this door and probably see the vague silhouette of him fucking me from behind. I felt dirty, but I liked it. “And you got it, Darcy.” He pulled out and slammed right back into me, making me bite down on my lower lip. “I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re not gonna make a sound. Understand?” I didn’t answer for fear that I’d whimper instead of respond yes. I just nodded and sucked my lower lip into my mouth. “Good girl.” The words were but a whisper, but they were two I was becoming rapidly acquainted with. And worse? I liked it when he said it. He was reminding me of more than he knew… Like what it meant to fuck because lust was just too strong. He pulled out of me slowly. With the head of his cock resting at the opening to my pussy, he gripped my ass tightly. “Who do you belong to, Darcy?” I didn’t answer. The sting didn’t surprise me when it came. “Answer the question.” “You,” I whispered. He gently caressed the spot he just slapped. “And who owns your body, Darcy?” I arched my back as his cock entered me fully. “Who does this tight, wet pussy belong to? Who decides who and what gets to be inside it?” It… Like it’s a tool… Just a toy for his amusement. Just like I am. “You.” There was no other option. “That’s right. You and your wet pussy are mine. I own you, sweet thing. Every single fucking inch of your gorgeous body is mine.” His words… The possessiveness sent thrills through me as he moved inside me. I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t deny how fucking turned on they made me, and I hated myself for it. I hated how he commanded my body, and I hated that I let him. “Now.” He stilled, his hand still resting on my ass, and slowly let go of my hair. The raven curls tumbled over my shoulder and onto the desk, and I felt the loss of him before it happened. He eased out of me, and ever the gentleman, slipped my panties back over me. Great. Now I’d be walking around all day wanting to screw anyone reasonably good looking. I pushed myself to standing as soon as I heard him take a step to the side. I looked at him just in time to see him zipping his pants back up and tucking his shirt in. His tie hung a little lopsided, and I raised my eyes from his neck. Our gazes collided with heart-thumping ferocity. The slow, sexy curve of his lips to one side did nothing to calm the quick two-step beat my heart had just taken up, but I didn’t dare to look away. Even if I did, I don’t think I could have. His eyes were the net, and I was nothing but a tiny fish, tangled up in him. “Seven o’clock tonight. I’ll be waiting.” “What for?” I questioned as he walked toward the door without moving his eyes from mine. He unlocked the door, and the smirk he shot me was dirty. I sighed and grabbed my purse from the chair, then walked toward him. I reached for the handle at the same time he grabbed my chin. His mouth touched mine, searing onto my lips with its fierceness. Another reminder. He pulled away as briskly as he kissed me, but that still didn’t stop me from touching my thumb to my lower lip. “Remember,” he murmured, opening the door. “Seven. Don’t be late.”

About Blaire Drake

Blaire Drake is a pseudonym for a New York Times bestselling author who wanted to let her kinky side out after dark.

Her debut novel, DEAR PROFESSOR, is releasing this December, and promises to be fabulously fun and filthy.

LIKE BLAIRE DRAKE ON FACEBOOK

Superstition by Lucy Fenton

Title: Superstition

Author: Lucy Fenton

Genre: Paranormal YA

Release Date: August 3, 2015

Blurb

What happens when your childhood nightmares of being bitten by strange creatures in a dark wood aren’t just dreams?

Sixteen-year-old Arden St. John’s life takes a strange turn when she finds an unusual animal injured near her new house on the south east coast of Australia. When she takes it to the local vet, a terrible truth is inadvertently exposed to her.

She discovers a secret underworld, where witches are commonplace and trolls masquerade as queen bees, terrorising the other students with impunity. A world where vampires traffic in the lives of children, draining their bodies once they reach maturity. Where adults auction their own children to extend their lives.

Arden finds out she’s one of those kids, her life traded by the mother she never knew. Now she’s caught up in this ancient and corrupt economy operating just below the surface of modern society. She’s a hot commodity, and it’s only a matter of time before the vampire who bought her comes to claim his prize.

But Arden’s not going down without a fight.

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Excerpt

Meeting up with Sophie and Grace at lunchtime, Arden decided it was time to confront her future. For better or for worse.

“I need to find out what’s going to happen, with the …um, vampire. Who can I ask?” she blurted out. Sophie’s eyes searched hers, concern wrinkling her forehead. Just when Arden thought she wasn’t going to answer, she finally responded, reluctantly.

“There’s another boy here who has been sold to the vampires. If you’re sure this is what you want, he might talk to you.”

“I’m sure. Who is he?”

“His name is Winter. He hangs out with the dope heads around the back of the science labs. His vampire started coming for him last year. I think I saw him at school this morning.”

Arden tried to swallow past the lump in her throat but it remained stuck, so she just nodded, suddenly not sure at all.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Sophie asked.

“No,” Arden shook her head. She didn’t know why, but for some reason she needed to do this on her own. If she freaked out, the fewer people to witness it the better.

Arden left her friends, who watched her walk away with worried expressions. She headed towards the science labs, then skirted the building to go around to the back. Trailing one hand along the sun-warmed bricks, she wondered how this would change things. Would these be the last moments of peace, not knowing what was ahead of her? Stalling as she rounded the corner, she looked towards the stairwell that was located in the middle of the building. A group of long-haired, scruffy looking teens noticed her approach and eyed her warily.

“Hi! I’m looking for Winter?” she asked.

A slight dark blond-haired boy broke away from the group hanging under the concrete stairs. He was thin to the point of emaciation and wore smudged black makeup around his bloodshot eyes. His shoulders were slumped, as if weighted forwards. He caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow. She followed him to an alcove further along the building.

“Winter?” she asked, even though she was sure.

“What do you want?” he rasped with a smoker’s voice.

“Sophie said you might be able to give me some information,” Arden glanced away evasively. It still seemed strange to her to talk about such weird stuff openly.

“What sort of information?”

Arden removed her watch, holding up her left hand to show him. “Sophie said you could tell what more about what might happen to me.” He swallowed visibly as his eyes locked on her wrist then flicked upwards to meet hers.

“Really? You want to know?” The naked fear in his eyes blindsided her, making her uncertain.

“Yes,” she whispered finally. “I’m sick of being in the dark. It’s better that I know what to expect.”

“No, I don’t think it is.” He shook his head, letting lank shards of hair cover his tired looking eyes.

“Why would you think that? I’m sick of all this cryptic shit!” Arden threw her arms up in frustration.

“Because it’s bad. They took you to the clearing in the woods, right?” Her gaze skimmed to his wrist and her breath caught when she saw the markings. On his left wrist some of the freckles had changed and had become red dots like blood blisters.

She shuddered. “Yes. I still have nightmares.”

He softened slightly. “Me too,” he admitted. “I’m surprised they haven’t started in on you yet.” He grabbed her wrist and inspected it, turning it over to see the underside.

“Started what?” she asked, tugging her wrist from his grasp.

“Snacking.” He grimaced.

“Why?”

“You’ve been marked by them. I’m surprised your owner hasn’t come to claim you yet. You’re prime steak at the moment, tender young thing that you are.” He sounded bitter and in pain.

“Why do they want our blood? How does it work?” she asked, trying to keep the shivers of dread running up her spine from taking over her whole body.

“Okay, well starting from the beginning: one of your parents sold you to a vampire when you were born, maybe even before. I know, it sucks. Literally. My dad did it, then took off. My mum tried to get me out of it, but no dice. Now she just cries and tries to keep me from dying after mine nearly drains me. All those books and movies are wrong. They’re not beautiful or misunderstood. Vampires are hideous and it hurts.”

“What does? When they bite you? It stung a little but—“

“It’s not like the first time,” he said derisively. “They latch onto your neck and suck. You can feel your cells dying as they draw the life right out of you. It’s as painless as a Tabasco enema.” It took her a second before she choked on the gasp of shock. She coughed for a few seconds, which drew a reluctant smirk from him.

When she’d recovered enough to speak, she asked, “Can you buy yourself back?”

“Only if they’re willing to sell and you pretty much have to give them your own child in exchange. It’s not money they trade in, its life. My dad sold me for a measly thirty years, the bastard.”

“Thirty years?”

“It’s the life economy. The vampires are like brokers – they buy and sell life. They buy you from your parents for a certain amount of years, assuming that you will live an average lifespan. They give your parent however many years they’ve bargained for, usually forty or fifty years of life. Once you’ve grown enough that the first feeding won’t kill you, they suck it out of you in several goes to maximise the amount harvested. Unless you have an underlying genetic condition, or something like that, they win. They either keep the extra to prolong their own lives or on-sell it to someone else for money.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yes. My dad was one of those bastards who gets women pregnant, feeding them lies, whatever necessary to get them to have a child with him. He then sells us and runs off. Supposedly I have half brothers and sisters all over the place, all of them in the same position. With his extra life, he just keeps finding new women to con.”

It was hard to believe such evil people existed, but Arden had no reason to doubt Winter was telling the truth. Her stomach felt like it was about to revolt.

“How can I find out which vampire bought me and who sold me and for how much?” she asked desperately.

“No!” he almost shouted, before looking around to make sure there was no one listening before lowering his voice. “Don’t go asking questions. Wait until they come for you. The last thing you want if they have left you alone is to bring yourself to their attention. Live your life as best you can while you still have all your strength.” He tried to hide it but hopelessness lurked in the darkness of his eyes.

“How long do you live once they start?” Arden whispered, searching his eyes for the awful truth.

“Not long, maybe a year or two if you’re lucky. With my mum to look after me and pump me full of vitamins, I might get lucky. If you’re still alive after seven feedings they make you one of them.” The red dots on his arm took on a greater significance. She looked down – there were only three yet his eyes were bloodshot and he was sickly looking, as if he had a terminal disease. She realised the chance of surviving seven feedings wasn’t great. Arden gnawed on her lip in distress. This too would be my fate, she thought, though with no one to look after me, I doubt I would have any chance of lasting even this far.

Reaper's Fall (Reaper's Motorcycle Club) by Joanna Wylde

Excerpt #1

Mel,

You know, I write these fuckin’ letters to you, but they’re fake. I ask about your friends and your school and whether you’re meeting people. It’s bullshit, Mel.

Here’s my reality.

Yesterday I stabbed someone before he could stab me. Puck and I sold some shit to a bunch of white supremacists and we turned around and sold the same damned thing to some Mexicans. We had pudding with our dinner for dessert.

Then I jacked off three times thinking about you. Those are the highlights. Like a fairy tale, right? Remembering you keeps me going, which makes no fucking sense at all. I hardly touched you. I still think about what you smelled like when you sat next to me on the couch, though. You were just this little thing and you shivered under my arm. I know you were scared of the movie and I could’ve picked something else, but I wanted the excuse to hold you.

That’s when I started thinking seriously about us fucking.

I had this vision of shoving you into the cushions face- first, then ripping down your jeans and pushing so deep you’d feel it in the back of your throat. That’s the kind of guy I am, Mel, and that’s why you should stay the fuck away from me.

You give me the chance, I’ll pin you down and keep pumping no matter how hard you try to get away. I dream about it every night, I jerk off to it, and today I gave serious thought to killing a man because he has the same fantasies about you as me. That first night, I promised London I wouldn’t touch you, but my cock had already been hard for hours. Good thing she showed up when she did—saved your ass. How’s that for luck?

When I took you to dinner, I was going to be good. Tried to be good. I know you didn’t understand why I asked you out or what it meant. They needed you out of the way, Mel. That was my job—to keep you busy. And I promised London I wouldn’t pull shit on you but she’d been lying to us all along and I kept wondering if that meant my promise didn’t count anymore.

Pretty damned sure it hasn’t counted for a while now.

You were talking and smiling and blushing. My dick was so stiff it nearly snapped in half when I tried to stand up. Took everything I had not to throw you on my bike and ride off with you . . . I want to tie you up and come in your ass and shove my cock down your throat until you choke. I want your hair in little-girl pigtails so I can hold on tight while I fuck your face. I want you to cry and scream and give me everything. I want to fucking OWN you. How’s that for reality, Mel? You still want my advice about boys?

I’m coming home soon. You should run away while you still can, Mel. I’ll make you dirty, so dirty you’ll never be clean again. I’ll make you pay me back the hard way. You think you’re all grown up, but you’re not. There’s so much I could teach you . . . do to you. Jesus, if you only knew, you’d never write to me again.

You should move to Alaska. Change your name. Good luck, though, because I’ll find you and take you and—

Fucking hell.

I dropped my pencil, wondering why I’d thought this was a good idea. I wasn’t going to send it, of course. I’d send her some friendly little note and tell her she should be dating and having fun. But some part of me thought writing my real thoughts out might fix my obsession. Instead my dick was like a rock. Again.

Still.

Always.

Reaper’s Fall is the newest standalone in the Reaper's MC Series. Painter & Melanie's story will be available on November 10th and is currently up for Pre-order!

Available at the following retailers:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1DsDyRt

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1yYt1Rn

Nook: http://tinyurl.com/pljucpa

iBooks: http://tinyurl.com/pwfxzyj

Blurb

The New York Times bestselling author of Reaper’s Stand is back in her “uber-alpha rough world of MCs”* as one woman’s future is rocked by the man whose hardcore past could destroy her…

He never meant to hurt her.

Levi “Painter” Brooks was nothing before he joined the Reapers motorcycle club. The day he patched in, they became his brothers and his life. All they asked in return was a strong arm and unconditional loyalty—a loyalty that’s tested when he’s caught and sentenced to prison for a crime committed on their behalf.

Melanie Tucker may have had a rough start, but along the way she’s learned to fight for her future. She’s escaped from hell and started a new life, yet every night she dreams of a biker whose touch she can’t forget. It all started out so innocently—just a series of letters to a lonely man in prison. Friendly. Harmless. Safe.

Now Painter Brooks is coming home… and Melanie’s about to learn that there’s no room for innocence in the Reapers MC.