Fang And Claw by @EvangelineA

Fang And Claw
Evangeline Anderson
(Nocturne Academy, #2)
Publication date: February 22nd, 2020
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

My name is Kaitlyn Fellows and I’ll never be the same.
The Fire stole everything from me.
My home…my family…even my beauty.

The right side of my face is normal–even pretty. But the left side, I hide in shame. That’s where The Fire marked me…scarred me forever.
At Nocturne Academy I’m nothing–just a little Norm girl with no supernatural powers and a disfigured face.
Which is why it’s so strange that a big, Handsome Drake like Ari Reyes should take an interest in me.
But it isn’t only Ari who’s interested in me.
For under his high cheekbones and clear amber eyes, he hides another, much more frightening visage–A Drake, the fire-breathing monster that lives within him.
A monster who has decided I should be his alone.

Can I survive Ari’s love for me? And more importantly, can I survive the love of his Drake?
Because once a girl has been claimed by a Drake, the only way out is through The Fire.
What am I going to do?

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks

—

EXCERPT:

Ari

I finished my test and brought it up to the teacher’s desk to place face-down on the slowly accumulating pile. Ms. Eventide was a Nocturne with sharp green eyes and a pale face. She nodded as I put down my paper and turned to go back to my seat.

“Very good, Mr. Reyes, you may read quietly at your desk,” she murmured.

I nodded, even though I knew that I wouldn’t be reading a thing. I would get out a book and pretend to read, of course, but mostly I would be watching Kaitlyn, who was even now getting up to place her own test on the teacher’s desk.

But as she moved past me, the little human seemed to trip on something on the floor. She gasped and windmilled her arms, her test papers flying in all directions as she started to fall.

I didn’t think—I just acted. Reaching down, I scooped her up before she could hit the floor and gathered her close to my chest.

“Oh!” Kaitlyn gasped and for a moment I saw her full face, as I had that day in PE—both the lovely right side and the scarred left side. Then she turned away quickly, using her long hair to hide herself, as she always did.

“Are you all right?” I asked, worried about her.

“I’m fine. Please put me down.”

She was trembling in my arms—shaking as though she feared me. I could smell the scent of her terror too—the sharp smell of adrenalin rose around me.

But there was something else too—an added component to her usually sweet scent which I was, by now, completely addicted to. It was strangely metallic and…I don’t know how else to put this…cold. A scent like winter coming on.

What was wrong with her?

“Mr. Reyes, I believe you can put Miss Fellows down now.” The sharp voice of our teacher cut through me like a knife and I realized I had been cradling the little human to my chest and inhaling her scent, trying to work out what was different about her, while ignoring her request to be put back on her feet.

“Forgive me,” I said quickly, setting her down gently. “I just…didn’t want you to fall.”

Kaitlyn’s only answer was a frightened glance before she rushed back to her seat. But then she appeared to realize that her test papers were still all over the floor. She started to get up again, though by now, everyone in the class was staring at her—which I knew was agony for the little human. In all that she did, what she strove for most was simply not to be noticed—not to be seen.

“Let me,” I told her and bent to pick up the scattered papers. Stacking them neatly, I placed them face-down on the teacher’s desk and resumed my own seat.

Kaitlyn’s one visible eye—a lovely pale aquamarine that was striking in the pale, creamy brown of her face—followed me uncertainly. As I passed her on the way back to my desk she murmured, “Thank you,” in a voice so low I was certain no one heard but me.

I nodded and murmured, “Welcome.”

She stared at me for a moment more, then looked quickly away, her curtain of hair swinging down to hide her face.

I wished she could have met my eyes just a moment more—I hated the fact that she was clearly afraid of me. I probably shouldn’t have swooped her up like that but what else could I do—just let her fall?

Inside me, my Drake roared in negation. Kaitlyn was ours, he asserted passionately—ours to watch over, ours to protect. I could no more stand by and watch her fall and hurt herself than I had been able to let Sanchez get away with bullying her.

But as I sat back down in my own seat, I couldn’t help lifting my nose to catch a bit of her scent once more. Her fear had faded but the new, cold note hit my nose, making it tingle. I frowned—why did she smell so strange? So unlike herself?

I frowned as I wondered once again, what was happening to my little human?

Author Bio:

Evangeline Anderson is the USA Today and NYT Best Selling Author of the Brides of the Kindred, Alien Mate Index, and Born to Darkness series. She is thirty-something and lives in Florida with a husband, a son, and two cats. She had been writing erotic fiction for her own gratification for a number of years before it occurred to her to try and get paid for it. To her delight, she found that it was actually possible to get money for having a dirty mind and she has been writing paranormal and Sci-fi erotica steadily ever since.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

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Blackwater Deceiver - Maxine and Blu

Blackwater Deceiver

A scoff sounded through the line, and she lowered her metal, instinctively ready to move on to her next trick if necessary. Seemed as if a badge meant nothing to the nun on the other end. “And for what? Who are you and why have you arrived without notice?” Okay then. The badge meant less than nothing because last she checked, detectives didn’t need to ring first.

         She narrowed her gaze at the camera. “I’m a detective, ma’am—”

         “Sister!” The curt correction blasted from the speaker. “And all visitors are to call and make arrangements prior to arrival. It is posted on the door.” With a sigh, Maxine turned and read the very small, out of the way sign that declared, “All visitors are to call and make arrangements prior to arrival.”

         “Color me educated,” she muttered. “Shall I come back then, next time with a warrant?” There was nothing she could do if the nun turned her away again, but that one little word always seemed to do the trick. She gave a hard glare into the cameras and waited. A buzzer rang out followed by the clank of metal locks springing into action as the unbarring of the entrance sounded, and she took in a relieved breath. Pushing the door open she stepped inside, noting that the locks looked newly installed. Is that for their new patient or just an upgrade? she wondered. An elderly nun in an all-white habit, with thick rosary beads clutched between frail-like fingers, made her way down cream-colored stairs. Max took in her surroundings of the Romanesque building. Cold, neutral colors with the scent of lemon polish in the air … yep, seemed homelike. She rolled her eyes. Still, this was an amazing place to hide a criminal. Getting information even with all her connections would be hard to procure—hard, but far from impossible. Maxine would find her fugitive even if it meant taking this gothic-like hideaway down one fucking brick at a time.

AUDIO COMING SOON! 

Blackwater Deceiver: Maxine and Blu | Audiobook Sneak Peek

Audiobooks lovers! I have a surprise for you! So, with the help of The Audio Flow the producers of my next audiobook, I am back to creating audiobooks! The first audiobook, Blackwater Savior has been a club exclusive, but is about to be available for the public! Blackwater Savior is Spooky and Mia’s story and is narrated by the AMAZING Michael Pauley. The next audiobook to be available is:

Blackwater Deceiver: Maxine and Blu

By Inger Iversen

Produced by: The Audio Flow

Listen here for a special sneak peek of Patrick Zeller’s amazing audition!

All Maxine needs is a name.

Just one piece of information could help Maxine mend a past mistake and let go of her broken past. That name she needs? Her father's murderer. Not because she harbors any tender feelings toward the bastard who beat her mother into a coma. She's desperate to know his last words.

She's steadily clawing down obstacles one lie, one trap at a time … until she encounters a brick wall without a single chink in it. Blu, the enforcer guarding the Blackwater Renegades MC's front door. A tattooed, mohawked mountain of muscle whose ice-blue gaze sets her belly on fire.

Blu's past shadows his future.

After fighting for his freedom in an underground fighting pit, Blu traded wrapped knuckles for a Blackwater Renegades cut. Now he puts his bruised fists to good use against rival gangs.

When he's tasked with seducing Maxine, the enigmatic newcomer, to uncover her motives, Blu discovers there's more to this dagger-glaring, snark-spewing beauty than meets the eye. They share a deep well of unresolved pain that could make him drop his guard … and question his loyalties to the only people he's ever known as family.

Want to read an excerpt of the book?

Meet Abel and Hope

Only, after Hope finds a promise of death at her doorstep, her plans are derailed and only chance at staying alive rests on the dedication of her new bodyguard and her own sheer will to live the life she deserves. Inger Iversen presents a standalone contemporary AWWM Romance in her best-selling Love Against the Odds world featuring Hope & Abel.

Hope curiously eyed the gaudy, purple and pink, plastic engagement ring, as Thea held her hand up in the air. Her friend gazed lovingly at it while wiggling her fingers in delight. Bright, adoring eyes met Hope’s as Thea continued the story of how Lex had proposed.

“I’d given it to him as a gift, never once realizing he’d use it to ask me to marry him all these years later.” She sighed dramatically, as if she could barely continue without another squeal bubbling out. “He bent down on one knee, looked me in the eyes, and promised me forever.”

Hope had zoned out halfway through the story. Not that Lex’s proposal hadn’t been adorable and romantic, but she often found herself drowning in memories of the past whenever anyone brought up marriage. The idea was to leave the past in New York, but Hope found that hard to do with all the wedding talk and secrets she held inside. She smiled, but seeing the solemn look Thea gave her, she was sure it hadn’t reached her eyes.

            “Oh, shit,” her best friend and boss said. “I keep forgetting that you—”

            “Stop right there.” Hope waved a dismissive hand at her words. “Don’t think for a second I am comparing this to my own life. You get to enjoy this. Lex is amazing, and nothing like Mark.” She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. Hope had never meant to make her feel like she couldn’t talk openly, because Thea was the only person in her life who she could converse with candidly.

            Thea’s soft voice met her ears. “I know, but it’s like talking about getting pregnant around someone who can’t carry a child. You want to be excited, but you also don’t want to be insensitive and hurt their feelings.”

            “I know, and that puts a damper on your good news.” Hope shook off the sadness threatening to overwhelm her. “No more walking on eggshells when you’re around me.” Thea’s engagement was amazing news, and Hope was acting like a big-ass wet rag. Pushing back the agonizing memories, she smiled again; this time conveying her happiness for a friend who’d saved her ass. “Can we both agree to put my shitty past where it belongs? Way the hell behind us. Now, let me see this thing.”

Thea moved closer, placing the hideous ring out for her inspection. Seeing Hope’s reaction, her nose wrinkled and her forehead dipped. “I know, right?” Hope looked up to her. “Ugly as sin, isn’t it?”

Both women laughed at the truth because the ring was seriously fugly.

Thea took her hand back. “Maybe you should get out there and try the dating game again?”

Hope groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to hear the ‘just move on’ speech again. Because she had tried—with no success. After looking high and low, no matter who she ended up dating, she always found them to be . . . lacking. Unsure of whether it was her past, her inability to trust, or the fact that she was on the run she found it painfully hard to even consider dating anymore.

“Hell, I say the next man who walks through that door,” Thea turned to Hope with a calculating smile, “you ask on a date!”

            Hope’s eyes widened at the crazy idea. The possibility of her hitting up the next man to walk through the clinic’s front door was laughable. “No. I couldn’t possibly. You’re crazy. I don’t think—”

            “That’s right. Don’t think,” Thea spurred, “just do.”

            Hope huffed, then saw something out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look at the door, she jolted in surprise. “Oh, for cripes’ sake.” Ms. Collis stood there, angrily banging on the door, leaving fist-sized smudge marks on the glass—a line of people standing impatiently behind her. Good thing Hope had painstakingly cleaned the doors the night before. “I think today is going to be one of those days. Is it a full moon?”

            Thea followed her gaze. “Oh, God help us.” Running to the door, she turned the locks and guided the woman behind Ms. Collis inside. As she passed the front desk, she elevated the woman’s bloody arm and whispered to Hope, “The next hot guy that isn’t dying . . . ask him out.”

Hope’s face flushed with embarrassment.

            Behind her, a crowd of people entered, some looking as if they were drowning in snot, while others bled, or just appeared angry and annoyed. Regardless of the clientele, Hope loved her job. She’d always enjoyed the feeling of a good day’s work. In fact, the past six months at the clinic had been a way for Hope to temporarily ignore the past and focus on a possible future.

And in the beginning, Thea had been able to keep her employment hush-hush, paving the way for Hope to work without fear of one day looking up to find Mark waiting for her. But now that employment papers were signed and turned in, Hope’s worrying increased with each passing day. She shuddered. The idea of Mark following her to Blackwater had become a waking nightmare and a monster under her bed to fear.

Pushing those feelings aside, she looked up and smiled at Ms. Collis, who was handing her a clipboard with documents attached. Seconds later, a biker in leather pants—crazy, in this heat—pushed through the doors of the clinic, blood gushing from his nose. He favored his right side, and pressed his free hand to a wound seeping blood through his tattered shirt. Hope’s eyes traveled up and up the huge behemoth, until her eyes connected with his unconcerned gaze.

Shaking herself from the shock of such a huge man, Hope pointed to the side door where the motorcycle club, or the MC, had claimed the waiting room as their own. Locals who weren’t affiliated with the gang sat in the open waiting room to the right, while the MC took residence in the small room to the left. He nodded his head and made his way to the door.

            “Ma’am, if you could take a seat and fill this out, I’ll be right back,” Hope instructed. Ms. Collis was in to have her cast taken off. It wasn’t the least bit serious, so she would have to wait her turn as Hope triaged the more critically injured. She made her way over to the bleeding man, who still hadn’t opened the door to the waiting room.

            “Sir?” She came up behind him and he swiveled around. Unfortunately, since Thea’s grandfather had ties with the MC before he passed, most of the gang came to her clinic when in need of medical help that didn’t require the coroner. At first, Hope had doubts, but when she got the text from Mark threatening her life if she didn’t return to his side in New York, she decided it wasn’t so bad if these huge, gun-toting men were there often.

            The man’s dark eyes flickered to the waiting room. “Didn’t want to get blood on the door.” His deep voice and heavy Irish brogue caught her off guard. This man was new, or at least, had never been in the clinic while Hope was there. Since she worked five days a week, and twelve hours a day, she assumed he’d just been one of the lucky few in the MC to not have gotten stabbed recently.

            Hope glanced to his bloody hands and nodded. “Okay. Let me get that for you.” She went to open the door, when Lucy, the clinic’s receptionist, burst through the front doors, apologizing for being late as she headed to the counter. Now that she was at work, Hope could take him straight back, get him stitched up, and send him on his way. “Actually, why don’t we have you come on back with me. We’ll see how serious these wounds are.”

He followed her to one of the rooms in the back. Hope hadn’t bothered getting him to fill out any forms. The MC members never bothered with the patient information form, and always paid in cash. Hell, the clinic would probably go belly up without the money the men provided.

            Sliding a pair of purple gloves on her hands, Hope pointed to the paper-lined bed. “Have a seat.” She made her way to the cabinet, and found a pair of sterilized scissors. Routinely, Hope would ask the patient what happened, but when it came to these men, the fewer questions you asked, the better. “You have any allergies?”

            Dark eyes followed her movements as she worked. “No, ma’am.”

Hope was long past the initial shock of the MC members having manners. At first, she hadn’t expected them to be polite, or for them to pay, but they did, and they weren’t raucous in the least. It was extraordinarily ironic that men who looked like beasts could be so composed and gentle, yet Mark, who normally wore a three-piece suit, could transform into the monster of her wildest nightmares.

            After a quick assessment, she knew his side needed to be treated first. Asking him to lift his arm, she cut open his shirt and inspected the knife wound. Unfortunately, she’d dealt with stab wounds often in her professional and personal life. His wound was shallow and not life threatening. A few stitches and he’d be fine. Then she could treat his nose.

             “I don’t need any stitches, Doc.”

            Rolling her eyes for the second time today, she said, “Yes, you do and you are getting them.” Ignoring the growl emanating from his chest, she continued to clean the wound. At 5’5” and one hundred ten pounds, Hope didn’t stand a chance against the mountain man, but she knew the most important thing when dealing with the MC members—never show weakness. Once you did that, your ass was grass. The men, while not complete assholes, would play on your fear. Find one sexy? Well, you’d most likely end up on your back.

Hope didn’t have time for that shit. And while Mark had branded the fear of God in her, she was resolute that not all men were created equal. On top of that, she and Thea were off-limits to the members, per some scary, sharp-toothed man named Gator.

            “Piss and vinegar.” His laughter pulled her from her thoughts. “Well, Doc—”

            “Not a doctor, just a nurse.” She winced at her words. She wasn’t just a nurse, and she regretted saying it like that. Doctors and nurses worked hand in hand, and Hope thought neither would be as effective without the other.

            “Well, nurse . . .” Ducking his head down, auburn hair fell over his eyes, and he pushed the strands away as he tried to read her name badge.

            “Hope,” she supplied, just as she stuck the first injection of lidocaine into his skin.

            “I’d rather you fuss with my nose,” he grunted. “My face is my money maker.”

Hope couldn’t help but laugh. This man, while not ugly, would not be considered a model under any circumstances. His face held a crooked nose, dark eyes, and wide-set lips. Maybe he could model tactic wear for the military?

She looked up, her coal-colored eyes shining with mirth. “Oh really? And here I thought it was your great fashion sense.” Hope plucked at the bloodied Foreigner shirt.

Glancing down, the huge man grinned. “Yeah, that too.”

Shaking her head, she set up her equipment and got to work. The man, who she later found out was called Spooky, asked her out a few times before realizing it wasn’t going to happen. Mark had been persistent as well. He’d asked her out a total of twenty-two times, before she’d finally broken down and said yes. Back then, she hadn’t known it was a sign of systemic hostility; she’d been naïve enough to consider it charming that a man like Mark would be so persistent in wanting to get to know her.

Hope finished up with Spooky’s stitches and nose and sent him on his way. After cleaning up the room, she headed back out to see Lucy wrestling a line out the door. Being the only low-income clinic in Blackwater had the entire staff working twelve-hour days. Hope jumped into the madness until the line dwindled, and the sun was no longer in the sky.

Heading home that night, she huffed up the flight of stairs leading to her efficiency, and froze when she made it to the top of the landing. There, in front of her door, sat a blue and white package. Her heart jumped into her throat, heaving her into the past.

After every beating, he’d sent her the very same Tiffany-colored box. On one particularly horrific evening, Mark had broken her ring finger, then rewarded her with a three-carat diamond, and a card stating, When that nasty mistake heals, you can wear this.

 Hope opened her eyes, confused as to when she’d shut them. With trembling fingers, she opened the box. Inside was a diamond-studded choker. Beautiful, white diamonds sparkled in a straight line, surrounded by blood-red rubies, in a platinum setting. Covering her mouth, Hope held in a strangled sob. She didn’t want to leave Blackwater, but once again he’d found her sanctuary. The one place she’d fooled herself into believing she was safe. How could she have been so foolish as to think a man like Mark wouldn’t make her pay for leaving him? She was his possession—his toy.

Mark’s face flashed in her mind and Hope had the sudden urge to run. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out the Glock Thea had made her buy from a pawnshop. Scanning the area, she didn’t find anything out of place. How had he tracked her down? She’d been so careful.

It must be my new employment status. Thea had been paying her under the table, but the clinic received government funds, and in the long run, it could have hurt Thea’s clinic. So, Hope had made things right and her official paperwork was turned in.

Turning back to go inside, Hope noticed a note tucked inside the lip of her door. She pulled it out and flipped the card open.

I’ll give you to the count of three to come back home to me.

ONE.

The next installment in the Teal and Trent series is coming soon! Preorder below!

And then there were three...Indelible

A buzzing noise consumed Trent’s ears. The more he tried to wake himself from his dark state, the more a burning sensation flared in his chest. Unfamiliar voices rose and fell, his name called over and over. Trent searched for one sound, one name, one person, but instead found darkness.

On his second attempt to rise, Trent caught the familiar scent of blood. A light touch on his arm, and a soft, unfamiliar voice, coaxed him to open his eyes. This time, it was much easier. Bright lights blurred his vision, and the burning sensation came back in full force.

      “There you are,” a soft voice sounded from the left.

Trent slowly turned his head to gaze into the eyes of a pale woman. Her tender smile and bright gaze filled his vision, blocking the bright light that’d nearly blinded him before.

“Nice to finally see those beautiful eyes of yours.”

Trent heard a beeping sound, and realized it was a heart monitor.

“What’s your pain level?” the woman asked as she lifted the sheets covering him.

Trent looked down as best he could, then tried to lift the arm that didn’t burn to touch the one that felt as if it’d been set on fire. He tried to speak, but the sounds his mouth made were far from words. A gruff grunt, then a coughing whine fell from his lips.

      “Okay, I’ll take that as an eight?” The woman covered him up and picked up a white object. A thin tube ran from the white object in her hand to the bag on a pole beside him. Trent knew what it was called, he knew what was about to happen, but his brain wouldn’t let him form the right words to object. He didn’t want to sleep again. He wanted Teal.

The woman clicked the button, and Trent went flying. The warm sensation started in his arm and made its way throughout his whole body. He fought to stay awake, as he struggled to remember what’d happened. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask the woman to find Teal, but the black depths took him before he had a chance.

      The third time Trent woke, his mind quickly filled him in—Shayla, Jake, Teal . . . and a gunshot. In seconds, Trent remembered everything. Eyes still closed, he replayed the memory of that night. The wild look in Jake’s eyes, and the horror in Teal’s as he fell to the ground.

His eyes opened as soft skin met his, moving comfortingly back and forth across his arm. Once again blinded by the light, Trent spoke the first thing his brain thought to say.

      “T—teal?”

A gasp sounded before his baby’s dark eyes and beautiful face filled his vision.        Teal covered his mouth with her lips, stifling a sob. “Oh my God, baby?”        

      He winced when he tried to move. “Where?”

      “Do you need meds?” She lifted up the white object that’d put him out before.

      “No,” he gasped out through pain. He didn’t want to sleep again. He only wanted to hear her voice and know that she was okay.

Her wailing sobs grew so loud that Trent barely heard the door fly open. Seconds later, Logan stood above him. He took Teal in his arms and held her. Trent’s eyes furrowed at the idea of Logan soothing her.

      “Mother fucker. You scared the piss out of us.” Logan pulled Teal closer as her wailing grew louder. Trent loved his best friend, but he should be the one comforting his woman. The pain in his arm and chest was nothing compared to the ache shredding his heart.

      “Ple—please, baby,” Trent could barely think through the pain, “come here.”

Teal slowly turned to meet his eyes, the pain in her gaze breaking him. Her eyes narrowed as she observed him. “You lied. You do hurt.” She left Logan’s embrace and picked up a white object and pressed the button.

This time, Trent didn’t fall into a blissful sleep, but his pain did ebb, and his mind sharpened a bit.

      “Feel better?” Her words sounded louder now that the buzzing in his head was gone.

He tapped the spot beside him and waited as Teal cautiously, minding his tubes and wires, sat beside him. Logan moved closer as well, his stress-muddled face a sight for sore eyes.

      Glancing around the bed, Teal adjusted herself. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

      “I don’t give a fuck. Get over here.” He had to touch her, to feel her skin against his. Though he was wrapped in bandages and covered from shoulder to feet in a thin hospital blanket, Trent felt the moment her warm body made contact with his.

Through the haze of drugs and the confusion saddling his brain, Trent pulled his woman close. His left arm was so swollen and heavy it wouldn’t move, but he managed to grip her with his right arm. He took in her scent, noting the mild hospital soap and his laundry detergent. How long had he been here that she had time to shower and come back?

Trent searched for Logan in the room, his questioning gaze was all his friend needed.

      “You slipped into a coma after you first arrived,” he explained.

Trent could feel Teal shaking in his arms. He rubbed her back as best he could, as her tears soaked his hospital gown. He closed his eyes, hot tears scalding his eyelids, fighting for escape.

“You lost a lot of blood, and they weren’t sure if you’d keep your arm below your elbow.”

Trent couldn’t see what Logan was talking about, but he could feel it. The burning sensation was gone, but Trent couldn’t move any part of it. He couldn’t even wiggle his fingers. Panic welled in his chest, as he thought about what his life would amount to if he couldn’t use his dominant hand.

      “Calm, brother,” Logan soothed. “They fixed you right up. You’ll just have to hit up some physical therapy and shit.” He stepped forward and reached out. Placing a hand on Teal’s back, he rubbed, surprising the fuck out of Trent.

      Logan then knelt down in front of her and gently pulled her chin up. “You promised me when he woke up you would eat.”

Trent had never heard his friend’s voice take on such a tender tone with anyone but Katie and the babies.

      Teal lifted her head, her gaze fully on Trent. “I’m not leaving you.”

      “You made me a deal after I lied for you, Teal.” Logan’s tone was firm, but still held a soothing quality.

Teal rested her forehead on Trent’s chest. Her fatigue and stress so evident, Trent ached for her. He glanced around the room in search of a cot. Instead, he found a meal had been brought into the room while he was out cold.

“Baby,” he mumbled, hating how reedy and thin his voice sounded. “Go eat that food over there.” He didn’t want to let her go, but if Logan was insisting, it was because Teal had been denying herself.

Logan pulled the tray around and placed it in front of the bed. Neither man spoke until Teal had opened the tray and taken her first bite.

      Trent tried to get comfortable by moving, but pain stayed his body. “Shit, where’s Katie?”

Logan groaned and rubbed a hand down his face and Teal answered.

      “He wouldn’t let her come.” 

      “Not right away,” Logan jumped in, looking ashamed when Trent glared at him. “Fuck, man. I get a call in the middle of the night. Teal is screaming and crying about you getting shot and Jake trying to rape her.” Logan thrust his hands through his hair. His skin had gone milk white, and his eyes held such sorrow, Trent had to look away. “Man, you don’t know what it felt like to get that call, yet be so damn far away. I couldn’t help, and I just knew if anything happened to her, your ass wouldn’t survive it. I couldn’t bring Katie into that.”

Trent watched Teal as her fork froze in mid-air.

“And then when I got here, I couldn’t get her to eat or drink for two days. She passed out twice and had to be hooked up to get fluids in her.”

He growled. “       Teal.” Her name was all he needed to say.

She glanced sheepishly back at him as she shoved chocolate pudding into her mouth. Trent reached up and placed a hand on her side. She leaned into his touch before pulling back and continuing to eat.

      “So, why isn’t she here now?” Trent asked.

      Logan released a long breath. “She’s on the way. Jan-Erik has the girls.” Logan made his way to Trent’s tray and picked up the water pitcher. “I couldn’t have her here. Not until I was able to figure out what was happening.” Filling a plastic cup, he brought it to Trent.

      “What is this lie you told for her?”

Logan placed the cup to his lips, and sniggered. “That this is Mrs. Teal Lofton-Reed.”

Trent nearly choked on his water, causing Teal to eye him warily.

      A thought slapped him in the face a second later. “Where are my pants?”

      Teal’s gaze narrowed. “Screw the pants. Why did being my husband make you choke on water?”

Logan’s soft laughter had Trent wanting to bust his lip open. “Nothing, baby, but why’d you have to lie?” He eyed Logan as he made his way to a pile of clothes on a chair in the corner.

      “They wouldn’t let me in.” Taking a sip of her water, she turned to face him. “When I first got here, I was so out of it I was having a hard time speaking.”

      “She was in shock,” Logan added, coming back after pocketing the ring box.

      “They wouldn’t let me near you, and kept asking about next of kin. Logan was still on the phone with me, telling me to hand the phone off to a doctor.” Teal rubbed her face, a lethargic glaze filling her eyes. “He told them we’d just gotten married and that I was to make all the decisions for your health if I were able.”

      “But she wasn’t,” Logan muttered.

      “No, so Logan did. He was the one who made the call for the surgery to save your arm, and he also got in touch with a plastic surgeon to make sure your dick hand stayed pretty.”

Trent and Logan both burst into laughter at the inside joke Logan had revealed to Teal.

      A nurse walked in just as Trent yawned. She gave a disapproving glare at Teal on the bed. Fuck that, Trent thought. He tangled his hand in hers and held her tight.

      “Mr. Reed, look at you, wide awake.” Her chipper voice sounded familiar, but Trent was having a hard time placing it; and the longer he fought to grab the memory, the foggier his head became.

      Clearing his throat several times, Trent waited until the nurse was no longer fussing with the machines. “How long have I been here?”

      “I am about to call the doctor in.” The nurse offered Teal what he thought was a warm smile. “May I?” She gestured to Trent’s side, where Teal sat. “I need to check his IV.”

Teal released Trent’s hand and shifted from the bed. The nurse picked up Trent’s hand and inspected the line leading to the IV drip.

      “You’ve been here for three days,” Teal answered. “After your first surgery, you didn’t wake up for a while, and then you had a seizure.” Her thin and solemn voice caused his heart to quake in his chest.

      “That is normal, and the doctor warned them it could happen.” The nurse placed Trent’s hand back down on the bed. “You also woke up rather fast after surgery. And you spoke one name and one name only.” The nurse’s gaze turned to Teal. “I find it quite amazing the way a love for a person can make a person fight through pain and fear to come out of it calling for their loved one.” She straightened Trent’s covers. “I’ve seen it quite a few times, and I’m still astonished at the fact that sometimes love cures faster than modern medicine.”

Trent watched as Teal’s eyes watered, and she held onto Logan as if he’d been her lifeline while Trent was unable. She leaned into his friend, her shallow breathing and glazed eyes revealing the fact she was about to have a panic attack.

      “Baby, come to me.” His voice still sounded weak, but Trent knew all too well the signs of an attack.

Logan led her to the bed and placed her hand in his right. He yanked her down and rocked her as best he could, murmuring loving words in her ear. He waited until her shaking subsided and breathing evened out before he spoke.            “Give me the box.”

      Reaching into his back pocket, Logan pulled out the velvet box. He leaned forward and handed it over. “Here you go.”

      Trent took it in his hand. “Teal, baby, lift up.” She didn’t make any moves to sit up.

      The nurse’s eyes widened when she saw the box. “I’m going to grab Dr. Pyzalski and bring him in to see you.” She headed out of the room quickly, no doubt knowing where the conversation was headed.

      “Lift up, baby.”

      Slowly, Teal lifted her fatigued eyes. She needed sleep, food, and Trent by her side.

Trent tapped her back with the box and waited as she turned around. When she froze in his arms, Trent knew she understood what was happening.                 “I thought I was going to wait and let you get settled in . . .”

      Teal’s head whipped around so fast, Trent had to reach out to steady her.           “Are you serious right now?” She turned back and took the box from his hand.

Trent wished he could open it and get on one knee, but his ass was going to be glued to the bed for a few more days.

As if reading his mind, Logan came around and pulled the box from her hand. Getting on one knee, he opened the box, presented it to her and waited. The sight was hilarious, as his best friend was on bended knee with Trent’s ring in hand.

      “Teal,” Trent called. Her bright eyes filled with tears as she looked to him. “I thought to wait. But why?” He lifted his hand until it made contact with her soft face. “Will you fucking marry me?”

She burst into tears. She’d been through so much over the past few days. Trent wanted to make sure she knew this had been his plan long before today. It wasn’t his fear of death that had him proposing, but his love for her. “What is the point in waiting when you already know the only person you’ve ever truly loved is right in front of you?”

      “Yes.” Her single word stopped all of his thoughts from spiraling. “Yes, I will fucking marry you.”

Logan stood and pulled the ring from the box. Trent watched as his friend pushed the ring onto her finger. He couldn’t have asked for a better friend.

      “I was told you were already his wife.” A tall, slender man in a white coat entered the room. With a stern smile on his lips, he lifted Trent’s chart and spoke about blood clots, comas, and all things unimportant to Trent.

All he could do was stare into his fiancée’s eyes; her beautiful face plastered with a sappy smile.

      “Teal Lofton-Reed,” she spoke in a joking tone.

Trent wanted to slap her big ass bottom, but only had one hand free. He wrapped his fingers in her hair and yanked her down.   “Fuck that, woman. Just Reed—Teal motherfuckin’ Reed,” he said just before he kissed her deeply.

The next volume in the series release soon! Preorder below!

Conan by @KylieAHillman #BookBlitz

Conan
Kylie Hillman
(Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation #1)
Publication date: September 12th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

The first book in the brand-new spinoff from the Internationally Bestselling Black Shamrocks MC series is here.

“You know how the story ended. Now, it’s time to learn how it all began…”

Prospecting for the Black Shamrocks MC once Colin “Conan” Blake finished school was a no-brainer.

His best friends were prospecting.

His father was a ranking member.

Hell, every man he knew was part of the MC.

The only thing the Club wanted in return for a lifetime of brotherhood was unquestioning loyalty. It was that straightforward. Patching in meant he vowed to put the needs of the Black Shamrocks in front of everything else—even his own desires.

He thought it would be easy. He was certain nothing could come between him and his brothers.

That was until he met her.

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—

EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE

“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things.” ~Ken Segall~

During my life, the whole twenty-two years I’ve graced this earth, I’ve learnt one thing. Rules are for other people. I’m a Blake; part of the Black Shamrocks MC, son of the Sergeant-At-Arms. The dictates of society that everyone else is forced to live by don’t apply to me.

I can do what I want when I want.

As long as it doesn’t affect the Club, I’m golden.

My days as a Prospect are numbered, I know that. It’s a no-brainer. The first generation of sons born in Australia are ready to patch in and learn what they need to do to continue our Club’s legacy. The granting of my membership into the brotherhood that binds the Shamrocks is guaranteed.

At least, I thought so.

Until I found myself on the wrong end of their oath.

Brotherhood before blood. Brotherhood before everything. They wanted me to put the brotherhood before her … and I wasn’t sure if I could.

Colleen McCormack called to the very thing that was changing me from a boy into a man. In her green eyes, strawberry-blonde hair, and hips that curved for days, I saw my future. I saw kids. I saw a responsibility for her happiness that made my soul sing with pride.

I saw the pair of us—old and grey, and still in love.

Too bad she was a Club slut.

According to my father, you shouldn’t give a fuck about the sluts. You fuck ‘em, you share ‘em, you laugh at ‘em when they keep trying to come back for more.

You don’t fall in love with them.

You definitely don’t ask them to marry you.

And, you one-hundred-percent don’t use your Club to exact revenge on the fucker who forced her into whoring without taking it to Church first.

I’d spent my life thinking that the rules didn’t apply to me.

Turns out that they did. Because once the Shamrocks are done putting out the fire I started with the still-smoking end of my gun, I’m going to feel the full-force of those rules.

Thankfully, she’s more than worth it.

Author Bio:

Kylie Hillman is the Australian author of the Internationally Bestselling Black Shamrocks MC series, Amazon #1 Bestselling NA/Sports novel, Brawl (Black Hearts MMA #1), and the recently completed Centrifuge Duet. She's currently working on the highly anticipated spin-offs to the Black Shamrocks MC series, writing the rest of the Black Hearts MMA series, and plotting her upcoming psychological thriller, Blood Oath.

She's also wife to a Harley-riding, boating and fishing, four-wheel driving, quintessential Aussie bloke and mum to two crazy, adorable, and eccentric kids. A Crohn's Disease sufferer and awareness campaigner, as well as an avid tea drinker, metal head, and math nerd, Kylie is known for lacing everything she says with sarcasm and inappropriate innuendo.

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Indebted: Til Death Do Us Part Teaser

“Blackwater Sheriff Henry Olgove reveals to NDC27 affiliate of CGFA-TV, the body found Sunday night in East Blackwater, approximately five miles from the notorious motorcycle club hangout, is believed to be that of missing teen, Amber Tonwlyn-Havers, daughter of Congressman Alexander Tonwlyn-Havers. Amber was last seen Saturday by witnesses, around 2:00 AM, leaving a house party in downtown City Central, alone. She was thought to have gone to a party in the neighboring city of Treville.

“Congressman Havers has not been available for comment, though his publicist asks that the family’s privacy be respected in their time of mourning. In other news, tensions rise in Blackwater as one of the founders of the Black Lives Matter organization plans a protest of the death of African American teen, Anthony Smiddle. The standoff between the KKK and Black Lives Matter protesters has police stretched thin.”

            Teal turned off the television, then placed the remote control down. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and took in a few deep, calming breaths. There were things friends and family admitted to you about becoming a mother. There were the things you wanted to hear, the things you enjoyed hearing and then there was the truth. It was a rare thing for a parent to speak of the debilitating fear and uncertainty that came with becoming a parent. The indecision and then the apprehension in every decision made, small or large.

While Trent’s upbringing made Teal cringe, she also knew that her own past hadn’t been much better. Yes, Teal had grown up in a seemingly good home, and her family’s money had afforded her a great education and kept her fed and somewhat content, there was more to growing up in a good home than money and a full stomach. Irrational as it may seem, Teal wanted to shelter Emma, but would she truly need it? Would she need an overbearing mother? Hell, would Teal become her mother?

What the fuck was going on in the world today? Things were recently changed in Teal’s life, with a husband and a child to care for, and her ever-growing fear of raising Emma in a world full of dangers she couldn’t possibly protect her from was starting to weigh on her. Was this what motherhood would continually be like? Undying love and fierce protection, followed by the crippling fear of threats of the unknown?

Placing a hand over her stomach, Teal sighed. Trent mentioned wanting another child, while her inner voice told her now was not the time. Hell, she’d just be honest and admit she wasn’t sure she wanted another child—ever. She tilted her head to the side and watched as Emma shifted on Trent’s chest. Teal often found herself counting ten little pink fingers and toes, kissing cherub soft baby cheeks and caressing her daughter’s blonde curls.

Her daughter was the exact opposite of her physically, but Teal never once worried about their differences. She sensed Emma’s trust and love in her and Teal was dead set on never letting her down. As Teal slightly moved and stretched her stiff legs on Trent’s lap she shifted her husband and daughter just a bit.

            Trent’s eyes popped open, his hand tightening over Emma’s back. “What’s going on?” His groggy voice woke Emma from her sleep. She released a sleepy coo that melted Teal’s heart.

            Teal moved her legs from Trent’s lap, leaned forward and gently pulled Emma from Trent’s arms. “I thought you were just resting your eyes?” she admonished softly, giving him a sweet smile. Teal softly patted Emma’s butt, helping to calm her back to sleep. The sweet baby lay her head on Teal’s chest and began to snore once again.

            Trent stretched his arm over his head and yawned. “I was, baby.” He sat up and glanced over to her. Teal noticed how he still favored his right arm for most things. While his physical therapy had ended, Trent still had trouble controlling his arm and certain movements.

            “Oh, okay. I guess your snoring was just to trick Emma to sleep?”

Trent sat up and placed a hand on sleeping Emma’s back. His large hand made the little girl seem even tinier by comparison. Born a preemie, Emma had constantly fought to maintain a normal weight, and now at nine months and fourteen pounds, she was just barely fitting into the six to nine-month clothes gifted to her from Teal and Trent’s friends.

Teal placed a kiss over Emma’s curling blonde tresses, and caressed Trent’s hand. Her life in Kentucky had proven easy-going at first, but recently, she’d felt restless and anxious. The South proved to be just as tense as she’d expected, with the Black Lives Matter and KKK acting out for various reasons. Teal wasn’t sure she felt safe, and this was after she’d just stopped waking up from nightmares where Jake had made good on his threat to rape her.

            Trent leaned in and kissed Teal’s cheek. “And my plan worked.” He pulled his hand away and stood. “Want me to take her to bed?”

            Teal squeezed Emma once again, as she didn’t want to let the warm bundle of baby go. “Sure, make sure all those stuffed animals are out of the crib before you place her in there.” She handed Emma to Trent and went into the kitchen to pull a bottle of water from the fridge.

It was a Friday night, and once again, Trent had fallen asleep on the couch while Emma napped in his lap, and Teal had flipped through the channels, hoping to find something to keep her mind off their issues with Harper and Markus.

Teal had learned that it was best to talk to Trent about stressful things at certain times, like directly after she’d sucked every bit of come out of his quivering body; however, after a long stressful day, now was not that time. Teal treaded to her office and retrieved her laptop from the dresser.

Back in the living room, she sat down and opened her emails to see a few from Jan Erik, past co-workers, and Summer. The header in the email from Summer caught her attention. Teal’s brow furrowed in confusion as she read aloud, “Help wanted.” Clicking the email, Teal read its contents. As she did, her heart flittered in her chest and her excitement grew. In her eagerness, Teal let out a light squeal. “A job opening?”

            “Hey, where are Emma’s fluffy blue socks?” Trent broke Teal’s concentration.

She glanced up to see Trent with a handful of tiny socks in his palm, and a flustered expression on his face. Pointing to the bedroom, she said, “They are in the—”

            “What were you just saying? Something about a job opening?” he interrupted her as he motioned to her laptop. “What job opening and where? More importantly, for who?”

Teal gauged his reaction carefully. While she had hoped the night would end without any heavy discussions, the second Trent dropped the socks on the couch and sat beside her, she knew there would be no putting it off.

            Teal turned the laptop to face Trent. “I’m not sure yet. I just received the email from Summer.”

            Trent pulled the laptop from her hands and placed it on his lap. “The chick that tried to help Shayla?” he asked, skimming over the email. “Why is she offering you a job at something called Safe Haven?” He gripped the laptop, his flustered expression changing into one Teal had become very familiar with. His veiled anger didn’t intimidate her though, it irritated her.

            Teal rolled her eyes at the question. “How the hell am I supposed to know? You are the one reading the email.”

She and Trent had agreed she would spend the first year at home with Emma. And at the time, when everything was new, and Trent was home with her, recovering, she’d meant it. However, now, it was a completely different story. Teal felt cut off from the world, and it seemed her job had gone from an administrative assistant with a degree, to Emma’s mom. Not that Teal minded being a mother—in her mind, she thought she’d done well. It was that Teal never expected to have her identity stolen from her.

Perhaps, if Teal had had three toddlers running around the house, she wouldn’t feel the same, but one infant who barely made a peep? She found herself sitting on the back porch with more time on her hands than she’d expected. And to top it off, Teal’s friends were all in Vermont, and were career-oriented women who despite being married, and settled, hadn't had children yet. Then there was Katie, who was on her third book tour and in talks with her agent about film rights to her novel.

Teal had never felt so alone, yet surrounded by a loving family. To make matters worse, even though they’d won the civil suit against Jake, lawyers had stated it would take time to actually get the money he owed—if they ever got a cent. So, Trent still worked massive amounts of overtime to add back some of the money to his savings that the medical and lawyer bills had created.

Teal hoped once the money from Jake came in, Trent would stop working himself to death. But that wasn’t all. Katie and Logan were miles away, with a growing business and baby girls, and Violet, her new local friend, was now the CEO of a company, so gone were the days in which she came over for hours on end. Like a fool, Teal had fancied herself a true Southern Belle, sipping mint juleps, and gossiping while watching Emma play.

Months after opening up his heart – and his past – Trent is looking forward to a future with his new bride and daughter. He’s recovered from the near-fatal shooting, hopes to purchase a farm for his beloved Teal, and is building a life free from the horrors of his past.

But the past has a bad habit of never staying buried, and now it’s coming after his entire family. Because Trent didn’t reveal all his secrets to Teal, and the deepest, darkest secret he’d always kept just out of reach is about to break the surface.

An old debt is being called in, one that will pull Trent back into the world of sex, lies, and murder he’s fought so hard to escape. And in the wake of devastating betrayals, he’ll discover who is truly loyal to him, as he agrees to pay that debt with an unforgivable crime.

SEPTEMBER 28th, 2017

Trent will stop at nothing to keep Teal and his daughter safe. Even if that means losing them forever.

Meet Ace, Gator, and Mutt from the First Sons of the Revolution MC, and enjoy the first chapter and first look at the spin-off featuring the badass, no-shit-taking men from Blackwater Rising!

Open Wounds | Excerpt

“When the passion burned hot, triggering a primal response, their only choice was to explore it.
”

Open Wounds

Abel had been shot before. He’d been stabbed and knocked out, but he’d never been tasered, and that shit hurt like hell. He sat back in the chair in the darkened room waiting . . . Fucking waiting for Gator, or whatever the fuck his name was, to finish up in the other room.

When Abel had regained consciousness, and found Hope missing he’d done the only thing he could, and the one thing he couldn’t afford—calling Gator from the Blackwater Renegades MC. These were not men you wanted to be in debt with, but the panic in his chest and the fear in his heart led him into the lion’s den.

His leg bounced nervously under the table and he itched to palm his gun. Of course, that was the first thing he’d been forced to hand over once he walked into the clubhouse. Rough hands had patted him down, paying no regard to his injuries. A door flew open and the sound of loud music and squealing women spilled into the room.

Gator strolled in, leather pants, naked chest under his leather vest, and fucking barefoot. He glared at Abel as if he’d just pissed in his cheerios. Common sense be damned, Abel didn’t have time for another macho-man stare-down. He needed to get to Hope.

            “Well?” The word flew from him like a bark from a caged dog. “Did you find him?”

            Gator lifted his lip in an answering snarl. His sharpened teeth glistened in the dark room, and the noise rumbling out of his chest reminded Abel that he was not in Kansas any longer. This was Renegade terrain, and submitting to the VP of the MC came with the territory.

Abel grudgingly lowered his tone. “My woman’s in trouble. I don’t have a lot of time. Tell me what you want in turn for the information I need, and it is yours.” Abel didn’t give a damn what they would ask of him, as long as it brought him to Hope. He’d failed to keep her safe. He’d been too busy wanting to touch her that he hadn't noticed the headlights in the rearview mirror. Stupid.

            Gator glared a moment longer before moving to the bar. “Need a drink?”

Abel gritted his teeth. I don’t want a fucking drink, asshole. “No, man. Just the info.”

Gator lifted the bottle and brought it over to the table. Placing a glass down in front of Abel, he poured slowly. Abel vowed if anything happened to Hope while they sat there drinking, he would burn the fucking clubhouse to the ground. He glanced at his watch. Hope had been missing a total of three hours. For one of those hours, Abel had been sitting here—waiting like a goddamned fool. Thinking better of wasting more time with Gator, he made to stand, but the man’s next words halted him in his tracks.

            “We have your woman.” He said the words as if he were talking about finding Abel’s lost dog; unbothered by the fact Abel had sat here for an hour, thinking of ways to commit murder without ending up in jail.

His breath left him in a whoosh, and Abel wasn’t sure, but he thought he might puke. “And?” he asked, trying to hide his fury and concern.

            Gator took a large swig from the bottle of liquor. “The info you gave me was useless. I knew about this man as soon as he crossed county lines. It’s my fucking job to know shit like that.”

Fuck it. Abel lifted the glass and downed the liquid. His throat burned and his gut protested the fiery shit, but he held it down.

            “Where is she?” He stood, leaning over the table. In this moment, Abel didn’t give a damn about titles or authority. He wanted Hope, and he’d find a gun and shoot his way through this cesspool if he had to.

Excerpt | Rogue in Love | @kris10inger

Burying his face in her hair, Lex inhaled the sweet, citrusy scent of her shampoo. “Hell yeah. That boy has had a crush on you since I can remember.” Her head popped up and that disbelieving honey gaze met his. “Back in the day, he used to talk about how pretty you were.” Lex lifted a hand and touched a springy curl. “How he’d never been with a black girl before and that he wanted you to be his first.” Thea’s abrupt laughter caught him off guard. He glared at her. “I’m not kidding.”

“Jeez, I guess I should feel lucky that he wanted to fuck me instead of hang me from a tree.”

“What the fuck?” Lex gawked at her. “Who threatened you with that?” Ice filled his veins at the thought of someone hurting her based on the color of her skin. Then shame hit next. Had she been exposed to racism? While Earl, Thea’s grandpa, was white as a damned snowflake, Thea’s momma was black and her daddy white, giving her smooth brown skin and a mutiny of jet black coils atop her head. Almost every physical attribute he found insanely gorgeous about her he could attribute to her mixed-race heritage and suddenly, Lex wondered if their children would don her stunning brown skin. Growing up, Lex hadn’t noticed her race. He’d only seen her intelligence and the keen gleam in her eyes as she debated anything. If he’d ever stumped her, she would run off, study the subject, and come back ready for more. So, more than anything he loved her intellect.

Thea rolled her eyes. “Lex, you can’t be that damned daft. The sheriff is as racist as they come. I’ve heard him talking with the boys and nothing he said makes me think he’d be happy to have my half black butt in his bed at night.” A shadow cast over her eyes and Lex wondered at the shit she’d been forced to hear. This was the South, racism was more than prevalent, but he and Earl had done their best to shield her for from that shit.

“No …” She gave a light chuckle, easing the fury inside of him. “One night I heard him at the bar pissed that some local kid tore up his lawn on his motorcycle. Him and some guys in a gang, that I now know was some motorcycle gang, said they wanted to teach him a lesson—”

“By hanging him from a tree,” he finished. “Damn.” The MC gang she was talking about was the First Sons MC. Lex had made sure to stay the fuck away from the MC; his small potato crimes were nothing compared to the murders and kidnappings the members had been charged with. After being approached by one of the members for a job, Lex made fast work of getting gone and fast. Thea’s next words pulled Lex from his thoughts and into a hell that burned his damned soul.

“He asked Earl for my hand in marriage.” Her admission caused his body to go rigid and his blood to boil. While marriage wasn’t something he’d had too much time to consider in his life, it also wasn’t something he’d take completely off the table. He had just thought of children with Thea, so marriage wasn’t so farfetched.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he softly pulled until she met his gaze. “And you told that piece of shit you have a man, right? And a date with him tonight.” For Lex, there was only one right answer to this question, and Thea got it dead wrong.

Pulling away from him, Thea took a step back. “Umm … we haven’t really decided what this is.” She motioned between the two of them. He hated that she’d retreated from him, from his words and the idea of them as a couple because he couldn’t think of them in any other way. He planned to woo her, take her out on a date and spend time with her. Not just fuck her.

Lex cracked his neck, moving it side to side and releasing the growing tension. “What do think this,” he copied her gesture and motioned between them, “is?” He hoped she didn’t think he made it a habit of running around screwing random women. That wasn’t what he wanted from her. She had to know that that wasn’t who he was … or did she? Ten years was a long time to be gone. People morphed into a myriad of different things in less time than that. Was that what she feared? Thea stuck the tip of her thumb in her mouth, and began nibbling on her nail. The foreboding silence she offered Lex freaked him the hell out. Last night, he explained his intentions and believed he’d been vocal in the fact that he cared for her. “Tell me,” he followed her to the corner of the room where she paced, “what do you think this is?”

Rogue in Love | Excerpt

           Lex examined the busty barkeep as her delicate fingers with nails bitten down to the quick gripped the bottle. Her thin frame spoke to the possibility of an eating disorder or drugs. Lex stole a glance at her inner arms; spying track marks, he marked her off the list. Fuck, his list got shorter every day. Love of his life? Axed. His hand? Axed. Junkie bartender? Axed. He glanced back at the hooker as another man pushed her away. Hooker? Maybe.

            “For now,” he answered. Lex would take her … he didn’t want to, per se, but hell if his dick wasn’t commanding him to find something to fuck, and soon. He licked his lips in anticipation. If he closed his eyes, he might be able to trick his mind into seeing Thea. Maybe. He could only imagine the hot, wet slide of a woman. Shit, two years for some may not seem like particularly long, but Lex was about to implode, and it didn’t escape his notice that Irina’s curls reminded him of the honey-eyed beauty he’d left behind.

            “Ah,” her voice deepened, “Irina. She’s a good choice.” Picking up a rag from the bar, blondie wiped up some shit he’d spilled earlier.

            Lex turned back to her. “Is she?” After a few more shots, he wouldn’t care if she were an alien from outer space, but damned if Lex was going to admit that. The fact that he was in Blackies paying to play made him sick to his stomach, but he would take nausea over heartache any day. “Hell, every man in Blackies is passing up on it. Why would I be any different?” Another shot of liquid heat then he pushed the glass back to her. “More.”

            She lifted a blonde brow. “You drinking up the courage to talk to her?” She chuckled, pouring him another shot.

            “By the looks of it,” he threw back the shot, “I won’t have to do the talking.” He slid the shot glass to her again. “Since not a damned man in here wants her.”

            The barkeep nodded. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?” She shrugged. “I’d hate to see her walk out of here without at least her off the hook money, but it’s looking like that’ll be the case tonight.” She poured another. Setting the bottle down, she leaned forward and propped herself up on the bar top. “Damn, even Scottie, a Blackie regular, turned her away.” She tisked and lifted up. Pointing to the shot glass, she asked, “Imma make my rounds, you good for now, honey?”

            Nodding, Lex picked up the glass and thrust it forward. “Cheers.” He threw it back. She was gone in the next second, tending the other patrons seated at the bar. Lex had nothing to do but wait. He wasn’t sure what off the hook money was, but he knew for damned sure this Irina chick would make her way to him soon enough. While hot water and soap would do his ass good, he felt as though he were far from the ugliest fucker in the bar. She’d most likely head over to him far before some of the other men, and while his cock didn’t want to wait, his head told him he had all the time in the world. He possessed everything a hooker wanted … cash and that soulless black gaze. He spared her another glance and her eyes met his for the briefest of moments. Lex held contact as long as she let him. Offering a grin, he watched as the twinkle of possible money earned spark to life, before she turned his way and headed straight for him.

            “Here.” The blonde barkeep placed a couple shots in front of him and winked. She headed away again, leaving Lex with Irina.

            “Is this for me?” Her Russian accent took him by surprise.

            Picking up the shot glass, Lex handed it to her. “You like tequila?”

            She smiled, pink lips revealing pearly white teeth. “My favorite.” Lex had needed her closer to see for himself that there were no track marks in her arms, no missing teeth, or that I haven’t washed in weeks because I’m a crackhead scent exuding from her.

            “Good.” He threw back his own shot as he watched her take hers like a damned champ. “Didn’t know there were Russians this far South.” Warmth spread throughout him as the liquid settled in his gut, mingling with all the beer and tequila he downed earlier.

Irina slid onto the barstool next to him, her glass in hand. Crossing her legs, the short leather mini skirt rode up just enough to give him a peek at tiny pink panties.

            Lex reached out, taking a hold of her barstool in a firm grip, and yanked until their seats were mere inches apart, causing her to squeak in surprise. He’d expected to talk price next … what he hadn't expected was the coquettish smile and timid demeanor from the woman. Maybe it was the fact she’d been turned down cold by the last few men she’d propositioned, or maybe it was because he’d come in the bar looking like a damned mountain man from the damned swamps. Didn’t matter, he’d ease her concern. Pulling another hundred from his pocket, Lex motioned for the busty barkeep. Not missing the gleam in Irina’s eyes as they followed the bill to the sticky surface of the bar, Lex grinned. “Keep ’em coming.” He spoke to the blonde without taking his eyes off Irina.

             “What’s your name?” Though he already knew, he thought to make conversation—to keep her from running scared from a man in dirty dickies and a stained-up T-shirt. He looked fucking worse for wear, but if he were to be honest, his dick and pissed off heart had done all the planning, making his brain take a backseat right along with common sense. Even a hooker would be hard pressed to want to take his ass out back for a fifty-dollar quickie. But here sat Irina, waiting for him to ask the age-old question pertaining to pussy for money.

MARCH 28TH, 2017