The whole stethoscope-and-white coat thing isn’t my cup of tea.
I prefer a man with an artistic vein in his body. 9 – 5 hours. And I can definitely do without the half-lidded, sleepy bedroom eyes. (Okay, so those are kind of sexy.) Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t change the fact that he’s arrogant, cocky, and rude.
Not that I care, but he’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with a quirky girl like me, which is why he said no.
Turns out no isn’t an option.
I have a quickie wedding to plan, and Dr. Jake Kissinger doesn’t have a choice. He looks at our situation like he’s stuck with me, but in reality I’m stuck with him. Stuck with his pouty mouth. His long, lean body. And stuck with those loose, low riding scrub pants. (Okay, so the doctor thing is growing on me.)
When spending time together turns into more than it should, I know I’m in trouble.
He isn’t supposed to make my heart pound.
I’m not supposed to make him look twice.
And we aren’t supposed to spend the night together. (Okay, so he has more than one artistic vein in his body, and other places.) Falling for him is definitely a mistake.
Here’s the thing…
Jake is unavailable, and I know it. Just not in the way you might think.
I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it too.
About the Author:
Kim Karr is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author.
She grew up in Rochester, NY and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and recently decided to embrace one of her biggest passions–writing.
Kim wears a lot of hats! Writer, book-lover, wife, soccer-mom, taxi driver, and the all around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read. One of her favorite family outings was taking her kids when they were little to the bookstore or the library. Today, Kim’s oldest child is seventeen and no longer goes with her on these, now rare and infrequent, outings. She finds that she doesn’t need to go on them anymore because she has the greatest device ever invented–a Kindle.
Kim likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and Happily-Ever-Afters. She loves to drink champagne, listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.
An emotional and unforgettable new romance from New York Times bestselling author Kim Karr. The Thing About Love IS NOW LIVE and only 99c for a limited time!
The whole stethoscope-and-white coat thing isn’t my cup of tea.
I prefer a man with an artistic vein in his body. 9 – 5 hours. And I can definitely do without the half-lidded, sleepy bedroom eyes. (Okay, so those are kind of sexy.) Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t change the fact that he’s arrogant, cocky, and rude.
Not that I care, but he’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with a quirky girl like me, which is why he said no.
Turns out no isn’t an option.
I have a quickie wedding to plan, and Dr. Jake Kissinger doesn’t have a choice. He looks at our situation like he’s stuck with me, but in reality I’m stuck with him. Stuck with his pouty mouth. His long, lean body. And stuck with those loose, low riding scrub pants. (Okay, so the doctor thing is growing on me.)
When spending time together turns into more than it should, I know I’m in trouble.
He isn’t supposed to make my heart pound.
I’m not supposed to make him look twice.
And we aren’t supposed to spend the night together. (Okay, so he has more than one artistic vein in his body, and other places.) Falling for him is definitely a mistake.
Here’s the thing…
Jake is unavailable, and I know it. Just not in the way you might think.
I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it too.
About the Author:
Kim Karr is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author.
She grew up in Rochester, NY and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and recently decided to embrace one of her biggest passions–writing.
Kim wears a lot of hats! Writer, book-lover, wife, soccer-mom, taxi driver, and the all around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read. One of her favorite family outings was taking her kids when they were little to the bookstore or the library. Today, Kim’s oldest child is seventeen and no longer goes with her on these, now rare and infrequent, outings. She finds that she doesn’t need to go on them anymore because she has the greatest device ever invented–a Kindle.
Kim likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and Happily-Ever-Afters. She loves to drink champagne, listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.
An emotional and unforgettable new romance from New York Times bestselling author Kim Karr.
The whole stethoscope-and-white coat thing isn’t my cup of tea.
I prefer a man with an artistic vein in his body. 9 – 5 hours. And I can definitely do without the half-lidded, sleepy bedroom eyes. (Okay, so those are kind of sexy.)
Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t change the fact that he’s arrogant, cocky, and rude.
Not that I care, but he’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with a quirky girl like me, which is why he said no.
Turns out no isn’t an option.
I have a quickie wedding to plan, and Dr. Jake Kissinger doesn’t have a choice. He looks at our situation like he’s stuck with me, but in reality I’m stuck with him. Stuck with his pouty mouth. His long, lean body. And stuck with those loose, low riding scrub pants. (Okay, so the doctor thing is growing on me.)
When spending time together turns into more than it should, I know I’m in trouble.
He isn’t supposed to make my heart pound.
I’m not supposed to make him look twice.
And we aren’t supposed to spend the night together. (Okay, so he has more than one artistic vein in his body, and other places.)
Falling for him is definitely a mistake.
Here’s the thing…
Jake is unavailable, and I know it.
Just not in the way you might think.
I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it too.
*****Patty’s Review*****
*****4.5 STARS*****
{ARC Generously Provided by Author}
Butterflies swarmed my belly, my throat tightened, and when he full on kissed me, I felt like he was my home.
It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a very long time. And right then I knew nothing would ever be the same in my life when he left.
THE THING ABOUT LOVE is a sexy, funny, and emotional read. This was my first Kim Karr book and I can guarantee that it won’t be my last. I really enjoyed this ”enemies-to-lovers” romance. The pacing of the story was perfect and kept me thoroughly entertained. The Heroine was a likable character and the Hero had the right amount of sex appeal and cocky attitude that I love in a really good book boyfriend.
Juliette Easton has been running her Uncle’s wedding planning business and up until she took over, it had been doing really well, but now they are nearly bankrupt. She has the chance of turning things around if she can convince the bride from one of Atlanta’s wealthiest and influential families to hire Jules to plan her wedding. Things get off to a rocky start when she throws cake at the bride’s brother’s face after an innocent misunderstanding. Doctor Jake Kissinger is not at all pleased with the feisty wedding planner but he can’t ignore his strong attraction to her.
At first, Jake isn’t thrilled with the idea of hiring Juliette as his little sister’s wedding planner. But when his terminally ill grandmother asks for the wedding to be pushed up as early as possible so that she can see her granddaughter married before she passes on, Jake has no other choice but to hire Juliette as she’s the only wedding planner that is desperate enough to pull off the wedding of the century in under five weeks.
Things get downright steamy when Jake and Jules are forced to spend time together planning all of the wedding details while the bride and groom are away at college. Neither of them is looking for anything long-term at the moment, so they agree to keep things strictly physical. But sometimes feelings can develop between two people who share out of this world sexual chemistry and soon the couple will have to deal with having to let go of something they know is so right. They both hold on to deeply rooted pain from their pasts. Jake feels tremendous guilt over his father’s death and thinks that if he moves back to New York and works in the same hospital that his dad did, that somehow he’s atoning for his past transgressions.
The story was just about perfect had it not been for the coincidence with Jake’s and Juliette’s tragic pasts. It was the only tiny piece of the story that I found fault with but it’s so minor that it did very little to affect my enjoyment.
Here are my overall ratings on the book:
Hero:4.5 Heroine:4 Plot:4 Angst:4 Steam:5 Chemistry Between Hero & Heroine:5
THE THING ABOUT LOVE is currently available! It’s worth a one-click. There are two more standalones planned and believe me you will want to meet Jaxson and Finn when their books come out!
My father, Paul Isaac Porter, was executed twenty years ago for the brutal murder of twelve innocent girls.
Though I was only eight-years-old at the time, I am aware – every day of my life – that I am his child, his only son.
To protect the world from the poison in my veins, I live a quiet life, off the grid, away from humanity.
I promised myself, and my mother, not to infect innocent lives with the darkness that swirls within me, waiting to make itself known.
It’s a promise I would have kept…if Brynn Cadogan hadn’t stumbled into my life.
Now I exist between heaven and hell: falling for a woman who wants to love me, while all along reminding myself that I must remain…
Unloved.
**NOTE: This book is intended for readers 18+**
*****Patty’s Review*****
*****FIVE+++++ STARS*****
{ARC Generously Provided by Author}
I’m just…in awe, and that’s how awe sounds. I don’t know how to feel this much love for someone. It hurts to love her this much. And yet I wouldn’t trade this moment even to cleanse my blood of my father’s poison.
UNLOVED is the story of one EPIC romance between two would be ”star-crossed lovers”. I was captivated from the very first page and was so completely consumed by this beautiful story that I devoured it in less than a day! Katy Regnery’s writing is simply EXQUISITE. I found myself mesmerized by her written words, so much that I practically highlighted about 90% of this book! I think this may just be my most favorite Katy Regnery book! BRAVO!!!
Brynn Cadogan and Cassidy Porter come from different worlds but they are in some ways the same, and it’s as if the fates were determined to bring these two lost souls together. Brynn has suffered a devastating loss and for the past two years, her overwhelming grief has caused her to close herself off from the world. Something she finds from her painful past has given her a new sense of purpose. Brynn is finally ready to move on from her grieving, but she must do it across the country in Maine, in one of the most dangerous mountainous terrains called Katahdin. While on her journey to lay her past to rest, Brynn’s life is threatened by a psychotic hiker but luckily for her, a “guardian angel” was nearby and he saved her from certain death.
Cassidy Porter has lived in his grandfather’s remote cabin in Katahdin almost his entire life. His “tainted” bloodline has kept him closed off from the outside world partly due to prejudice and also for fear of the evil that lives in his genetic makeup. When he hears Brynn’s cry for help he doesn’t hesitate to come to her rescue and with an enormous amount of trepidation he decides to take her back to his cabin to nurse her back to health. He’s been alone for nearly a decade after both his mother and grandfather passed, and he’s never been in the presence of a woman. Cass is mesmerized by Brynn, but he knows that he can never live a normal life with her and that she’s better off without him.
As he nurses Brynn back to health their feelings for each other intensify and a love like they’ve never imagined blossoms between them. Cass won’t allow Brynn to tie herself to him. He’s adamant that once she is fully recovered in a few weeks that she must go back home. Out of desperation, Brynn proposes that they enjoy the limited time they have together with no “strings attached” and no expectations. But once they give in to the passion burning between them, will it be that easy to say goodbye at the end of their three weeks together?
Cass is one of Katy Regnery’s most charismatic and endearing Hero’s by far. Readers are sure to fall deeply in love with him and this story! I can’t say enough just how AMAZING this book is!!
Here are my overall ratings on the book:
Hero:5++++++ Heroine:5 Plot:5++++++ Angst:4 Steam:5+++++ Chemistry Between Hero & Heroine:5+++++
UNLOVED is currently available! This is a DEFINITE MUST READ!! One-click NOW!
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiggling to disengage from his arms, the rose losing petals as she pushed against his chest. She perched on the tip of his knee, her back ramrod straight, facing away from him, staring out at the black Pamlico. “It won’t work.”
“The date?” he bit out. “Or . . . us?”
She shrugged miserably as a trickle of blood ran down the length of her thumb.
“You’re bleedin’,” said Erik, putting his hands on her waist and swiveling her effortlessly to face him again. His expression was stony, his voice hurt. He reached for her hand and gently unfurled her fingers. Taking the rose from her grip, he threw it to the ground beside them, then lifted her palm to his mouth, sealing his lips over the puncture and sucking.
His tongue swirled around the small hole as he tenderly tried to kiss away her pain, to no avail. Finally he looked up at her, his thumb sealing the small puncture as he searched her eyes and spoke gently.
“Darlin’, I come here every night to be near you. I live for sunset like a vampire because that’s when my heart starts beatin’ each day, when I grab the keys to the car or boat and race over here to be with you. It makes me crazy all day to be away from you because I want more. I want to talk for hours and kiss you and find out what makes you laugh and . . . Damn it, Laire, this isn’t enough.”
A moment of panic swept through her, and she wondered, for a heart-stopping moment, if he was about to tell her that he wouldn’t be coming by anymore. And in that moment, she knew that, no matter how much it scared her to imagine her family finding out that she was seeing Erik Rexford, she would risk it. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t let that happen, and if it meant she had to bend, had to take a chance that frightened her, she’d take it.
Their stolen moments every evening weren’t enough for her either. She wanted more time just as much as he did. Our own rules. They could figure this out together, right?
Before she lost her nerve, she leaned into him, pressing her aching breasts against his chest and reaching up to caress his cheek. “I could meet you Sunday after work. I’m only working the brunch shift, from seven to one. I’ll be free for the rest of the day, and my father won’t expect me back until eleven.”
“I have a car,” he said, his eyes lighting up with happiness, and her heart clutched, then sang, with the knowledge that her words, her actions, had made him smile like that. “I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”
“I’ll have to move the boat to Hatteras Landing,” she said, her mind racing, trying to figure out the best way to cover their tracks. “I can’t leave it here all day.”
“I’ll arrange for a slip and pay for it,” he offered.
She raised her chin. “No, you will not.”
“Laire, I asked you on a date. I intend to pay.”
“Date starts when you pick me up at the marina at one thirty.”
“You drive a hard bargain, darlin’,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
“Okay, then,” she sighed, her eyes flitting hungrily to his lips.
“Thank God,” he murmured.
She wound her arms around his neck and let him pull her flush against his body, melting into a hot kiss and reveling in the feeling of his chest pushing into hers with every ragged breath he took. Her nipples beaded as though at his command, and she arched her back to get as close to him as possible. Plunging her fingers back into his thick dark hair, she moaned as he sucked on her tongue before changing the angle of their heads and resealing his lips over hers.
Her stomach filled with flutters as his hands moved down her back, his palms landing on her ass and squeezing gently as his tongue slid slowly against hers before he nipped her top lip between his. She was breathless when she suddenly realized his lips weren’t moving on hers anymore.
Opening her eyes slowly, she blinked up at his smiling face, feeling hot and bothered and needy.
“More,” she murmured, nuzzling his nose with hers.
“Open your eyes, Freckles,” he said, his breath ragged against her skin. She did, and his eyes, dark and wide, met hers. “Don’t tell me this won’t work. Don’t ever say that to me again.”
Her breath caught, but she nodded. “I won’t.”
His eyes fluttered closed, and he reached up to cup her cheeks. “Our rules, Laire.”
She rested her forehead against his. “Our rules, Erik.”
“Our rules,” he whispered again, then smiled, laughing softly with happiness, and she smiled with him, vibrating with wonder, leaning forward to press her lips to his and seal their promise.
About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katy Regnery started her writing career by enrolling in a short story class in January 2012. One year later, she signed her first contract and Katy’s first novel was published in September 2013.
Twenty-five books later, Katy claims authorship of the multi-titled, New York Times and USA Today Blueberry Lane Series, which follows the English, Winslow, Rousseau, Story, and Ambler families of Philadelphia; the six-book, bestselling ~a modern fairytale~ series; and several other standalone novels and novellas.
Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015 and won the 2015 Kindle Book Award for romance. Katy’s boxed set, The English Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, hit the USA Today bestseller list in 2015, and her Christmas story, Marrying Mr. English, appeared on the list a week later. In May 2016, Katy’s Blueberry Lane collection, The Winslow Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1-4, became a New York Times E-book bestseller.
In 2016, Katy signed a print-only agreement with Spencerhill Press. As a result, her Blueberry Lane paperback books will now be distributed to brick and mortar bookstores all over the United States.
Katy lives in the relative wilds of northern Fairfield County, Connecticut, where her writing room looks out at the woods, and her husband, two young children, two dogs, and one Blue Tonkinese kitten create just enough cheerful chaos to remind her that the very best love stories begin at home.
That magic number that will get us to agree to do anything, be anything.
Don’t sit on your gold-plated high horse and say you don’t because you do. Everyone does. Each of us has something we covet enough that we’d sell ourselves to have it.
What’s my tipping point, you ask? Apparently a cool quarter mil will do the trick.
What does one do for 250 large, you wonder? Anything the infamous, gorgeous playboy of Seattle wants. For the next four months I’ll be Shaw Mercer’s arm candy, his beck and call girl, his faux girlfriend. I’ll be his to command, mold, push and pull in any direction he sees fit.
I’ll fight falling into bed with him. I’ll fight falling in love with him even harder. I’ll fail at both. And when my past and present collide in the most unexpected of ways, I’ll learn that while one man’s love for me has never died, the only man’s love I really want will never be mine.
As long as Noah and I have known one another and as close as we are, he’s far from an open book. He holds some of life’s secrets so close to the vest, he’ll likely take them to his grave. So how he knows Ms. Randi Deveraux of La Dolce Vita is still a mystery he won’t divulge.
When he told me his plan and showed me the picture of the woman who’d play my love interest for the next several months, I was immediately drawn to the her, but it took me a few seconds to realize why.
It was her.
My spicy little Goldilocks.
The one I haven’t heard from.
The one I haven’t been able to get out of my fucking head for the past eight days.
The one my cock involuntarily gets hard for in the dark of night.
The glossy-colored print I stared at for long minutes was a complete contradiction to the fiery woman I’d met.
On paper her exterior was flawless. Not one sculpted eyebrow out of place. Striking blue eyes rimmed with the right amount of shadow, liner, and mascara that made them alluring but not slutty. Pouty lips painted a deep shade of maroon, lined impeccably so the stain didn’t seep, then glossed enough in the middle to draw your attention to their fullness. Hair curled into loose ribbons that fell over her shoulders and down her slim back.
But while the outside was practiced perfection, the inside screamed dead. Not damaged, not broken or bruised, but lifeless. This beautiful creature went through the motions. She moved through life without living. I don’t know how I saw it, or why, but I know it wasn’t a product of my overactive imagination. This woman’s pain was rooted deep but she put on an award-winning façade that told the outside world otherwise.
I saw the same thing when I stared into her fierce eyes under the cover of my sunglasses days ago, but I also saw something else. Smoking embers buried under piles of ash. God help me, but for some reason I want to be the man who stokes those smoldering cinders until they spark into a burning inferno, bringing her roaring back to life.
Standing before her now, I’ve no doubt I’m the igniter, the single match needed to wake her from the living dead.
“Summer, is it?” I close the door behind me and move to the couch, gesturing for her to sit.
She doesn’t. She just blinks rapidly like she’s seeing a ghost. That makes me smile for some reason.
I know the name she’s using is fake. I hate it. Not the name, per se, but the fact that I don’t know her real one. I told Ms. Deveraux my circumstances and my concern around using a fake name. The press will eventually find out and it’s best if we’re up front in the beginning rather than if they dig, thinking we’re hiding something. That would be disastrous. She agreed but told me the decision was up to Summer. If she agreed to my terms, I could plead my case. If not, then her anonymity was still protected.
“You don’t look like a Summer,” I say casually as I take a seat and cross my legs.
Although in a way she does. She’s hot and sultry and I’ve no doubt she’s nice and moist in the place I’m dying to drive my cock. Jesus, she is absolutely mouthwatering. And she has the sexiest fucking voice I have ever heard. It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking about her.
She crosses her arms and cocks a hip in irritation. “Is that so? What do I look like then?”
Mine.
Why that disturbing word pops into my head, I haven’t a clue. She is yours temporarily, though. If she agrees.
“How is your neck by the way?”
That seems to catch her off guard because her cocky bravado falters. “Uh…fine. It’s fine.” She unconsciously reaches up to palm it. My fingers itch, wishing they were on her skin instead. I still remember the electricity that ran down my arm when I touched her before. It set my cock on fire and it hasn’t stopped burning since. “You’re lucky, you know. I could be wearing a neck brace right now and be lawyered up.”
“And you’d still be just as beautiful.” I ignore the lawyer comment. I know it’s just a dig. When she blushes and looks away, my grin gets wider and I allow myself a few seconds to absorb her, head to toe. I find myself zeroing in on that tiny diamond stud in her nose, now catching the light. I first noticed it when she pounded on the window of my Rover calling me names. I generally find them childish, yet on her, I find myself incredibly turned on by it.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” On my lap would be preferable.
Defiant eyes snap back to mine. “Hit and run anyone else lately?”
“Hit and run?” I chuckle. “I didn’t hit and run you. I took accountability.”
“Yeah. After I dumped car parts into your lap, it was pretty hard to deny it any longer.”
Hell. This woman is full of restrained passion. She just needs someone to help her unleash it in a very controlled manner.
“Why haven’t you called about your car? Change your mind on whose fault it was?” I’m goading her, but Hot. Damn. The sparks firing from her are overly addictive.
“Oh, it was your fault, all right,” she snaps. “And I’ve been…busy.”
“Yes, I can imagine you have a very full schedule.” I sound more sarcastic than I intend, but the thought of her with other men makes me feel exactly the way I felt when I thought of Noah with her.
Her lips thin. She’s madder than a hornet. I’m harder than a two by four.
“Why are you here, Drive By?”
Drive By? I laugh at her feisty spirit. God, I want to kiss her. Feel her tongue sparring eagerly with mine. See if she tastes of rage and raw energy.
“I was under the impression you were agreeable to meeting with me.”
When Noah set this up, I insisted on three things.
One: it take place in Ms. Deveraux’s private home with her alone. There’s no way in hell I will be caught on film coming and going from her “business.”
Two: I meet with Ms. Deveraux in advance and work through the contractual details to my satisfaction. Let’s just say I now feel comfortable we have a mutual interest in keeping this arrangement buried deep.
And three: I be allowed to personally meet with “Summer” before she signs the contract. Surprisingly, that was the toughest piece to negotiate. Seems Ms. Deveraux is very protective of her, or maybe she’s that way with all of her employees.
Everything I have done to secure her has deviated from Ms. Deveraux’s normal course of business, but this situation is far from normal. It’s reckless at worst. Precarious at best.
“How did you find me?”
Sheer, dumb luck.
“I’m very resourceful.”
Her forehead creases. “This is a mistake.”
She turns to leave and I panic. True blistering panic sears through me at the thought she’s about to walk through that door and I may never see her again. I don’t know her real name. I don’t know how to contact her and if this meeting goes south, I know I won’t get anything further about her from Randi Deveraux. If she walks out on me now, I highly doubt she’ll give me the time of day when she finally does call Dane about her car.
I don’t know why I care that I spend the next few months with her and only her so damn much. I just do.
“Wait,” I plead.
She stops but doesn’t turn. I have no idea what possesses me, but I close the distance between us until I’m a whisper away. Our body heat plays off each other, growing hotter by the second.
“You haven’t even listened to my proposal,” I say against her ear.
Her breath kicks up. Good. She’s not unaffected by me, and that will play into my hand nicely.
“You can get someone else,” she replies softly, without conviction.
Drawing her long hair off her shoulder, I let my finger feather across her bare flesh. It’s soft and silky. She shivers. I suppress a moan. Fuck, I want her so much. It makes no sense.
“I don’t want anyone else,” I tell her truthfully, keeping my voice low.
“Why?” she breathes.
I don’t know why. I have no idea what it is about her that draws me in. I wish I did. I need to stop it. I should end this right now—look at a dozen other pictures and pick a woman whose very presence doesn’t twist me into knots and make me have thoughts I’ve never had before. Thoughts that make me uncomfortable. It’s unnerving.
But, fuck me. I can’t. There is just something different about this woman and I won’t rest until I find out what it is.
“Have a seat. Just hear me out. Please,” I tack on sincerely.
She stands motionless and I wonder what her next move will be. My hands curl into fists as I restrain myself from throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her to my house. I think she could benefit greatly from a hard hand and a red ass. I have a feeling she might even enjoy it.
When she floats effortlessly to one of the velvet-covered chairs, I release a veiled breath. Picking up the contract from the edge of Ms. Deveraux’s desk, I make myself comfortable across from her and place the paperwork on the table separating us. Her eyes drop to it but she makes no move to pick it up.
“So what’s your proposal, Mr. Knowles?”
“Mr. Knowles?”
“That’s your name, right? Dane Knowles. Wildemer & Company?”
Amused, I rest my elbows on my knees and grin at her. “No. Dane is my assistant. I told you to call him and he’d take care of the damage to your death box.”
“Death box?” She sounds offended.
“Do you know what the safety rating is on that little tin can you drive?” When she opens her mouth to respond, I talk over her. “Five point seven out of ten. You’re basically driving around in your own steel coffin.”
I expect a hot retort or for her to leave in a huff. What I don’t expect is a genuine, breathtaking smile that lights up her face like summer and makes my cock knock uncomfortably on my zipper in a futile attempt to reach her. My God, she’s trying to kill me already.
“Are you a walking Kelly Blue Book of safety ratings, Mr.…?”
“I have a vast array of useless Trivial Pursuit knowledge up here,” I retort with a smirk, finger pointing to my temple. I’ll never admit that I looked it up after our little accident. She could be seriously hurt in that ridiculous miniature box on wheels that somehow passes for a fucking car. Hell, had I hit her any harder, she would be in the hospital. “And I’m Shaw. Shaw Mercer.”
“Shaw Mercer,” she repeats slowly like she’s tasting my name for the first time. Savoring every consonant and every vowel. Fuck. I sit back and cross one leg over the other to hide my rock-hard erection.
“Any relation to Preston Mercer?”
I nod, impressed that she tied me back to my father instead of referring to me as one of Seattle’s most eligible bachelors. She’s intelligent and up on politics. I like that. Immensely. If you ask three-fourths of the residents of Seattle, they wouldn’t be able to tell you how many branches of government there are, something that’s taught in middle school, let alone who the mayor of Seattle is.
“So why is the mayor’s son…here?”
Her eyes are locked on mine, waiting on an answer.
When she swallows I follow the delicate line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that peek out from the light pink strapless flowing dress she’s wearing like a fucking Greek goddess. One flick of my finger and I could find out the color of her areolas and the size of her nipples before I draw one into my mouth for a sample. My mouth waters at the thought.
The conversation that Ms. Deveraux and I had earlier about expectations sits hard in the pit of my stomach. On one hand, I was relieved to get confirmation she doesn’t sell herself, only her “time,” but now that I’m sitting here in front of her, I won’t rest until she lets me explore every square inch of not only her perfect body, but her complex mind. I want to know her like no one else has.
When our gazes connect again I’m sure mine is full of unmistakable heat. Hers definitely is.
She clears her throat and straightens her back. “I think you have the wrong idea about what it is I do.”
“I don’t,” I state plainly.
“I don’t sleep with my clients, Mr. Mercer.”
Oh, but you will. We both know our ingredients are explosive.
“Women would pay to have sex with me, not the other way around.”
She huffs a laugh as a wry look crosses her face. “Then what is it you need if not a good fuck?”
I chuckle and when I lean forward she straightens her spine. I love that even the simplest of movements I make in her direction affect her, just like she does to me. “Is that what I’ll be missing with you? A good fuck?” I won’t be missing a damn thing. She will be mine in every conceivable way. I know it and so does she.
“Not just good. Life altering,” she banters smoothly.
Now it’s my turn to smile slowly. What I wouldn’t give to throw her up against the wall and show her just what a life-altering fuck really is. For what seems like forever we stare at each other in some sort of weird silent challenge where we’re waiting to see what move the other will make.
Shaking myself out of her spell, I pick up the papers and hand them to her.
“What’s this?”
“Your employment contract.”
“All the paperwork is handled through Randi.”
“I want a little extra insurance.”
She quickly flips through the five-page document before lifting her eyes. “Nondisclosure agreement? This is sounding very fifty shades-ish. And just so you know, if I find any mention of hard limits or safe words, that’s a deal breaker.”
I can’t help but laugh loudly.
“I’m not kidding,” she says, her voice stern.
“Trust me, Goldilocks, if I could have gotten that past your warrior she-devil, I would have.”
Her eyes narrow, but I see a little twitch at the corner of her mouth so I forge ahead, making a mental note to invest in handcuffs and a flogger. Or six.
“The duration is for approximately the next four months. Ten hours a week, maybe more, maybe less, depending on my schedule. You may be required to travel and you will be available at all times when I need you, day or night. You will attend social events, fundraisers, business dinners, and family functions. You will be photographed and it’s only fair to warn you, you will likely be hounded by the press but I’ll try to shield you as much as possible.”
She regards me quietly. I wish I could tell what’s spinning around in that pretty little head of hers. A corner of my mouth tips when she says, “Reelection is just around the corner.”
Not a question and I don’t answer, but score another point for her.
For not the first time I wonder if this little plan of Noah’s will backfire, taking us all down in a curl of hot flames. She figured out what I was doing within two minutes. Lianna would be a far safer, more believable choice. But there’s also an undeniable, powerfully charged connection between us that will be hard for people to refute.
“And what is my role, specifically?”
Deciding I don’t care if this entire thing blows up in my face because that means I won’t get what I want—which is her—I stand and step around the table, holding out my hand.
When she tentatively sets hers in mine, I help her up and wrap one arm around her waist.
Pulling her close, I relish in the hitch of her breath. Cupping her cheek, I savor the baby-fine skin under the pad of my thumb. I take a deep breath, drinking in her delicately floral scent. She’s intoxicating and my head is already spinning.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her small hands going to my chest.
Dipping my head, I trail my nose along her jaw, stopping so my lips brush her ear. “Making sure we have chemistry.”
She mutters a curse under her breath I know I’m not meant to hear before stuttering, “Wh…why?”
Fuck, if she only knew the dirty things running through my head right now.
“Because, my wide-eyed little pretty, you’re going to play my new love interest. My girlfriend. My serious girlfriend.” I emphasize the word so she understands what she’s getting herself into. I won’t pay her to be in my bed but that doesn’t mean she won’t end up there anyway.
“I…I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” Her breathlessness is testing me and she’s only about half an inch away from finding out exactly how much.
Walking into this meeting, I had already agreed to what I thought was a generous offer with her boss, madam, keeper, whatever she’s called. But after the last fifteen minutes, I’ve decided I will pay whatever it takes to have her. To own her. I think I would give away my own soul.
Framing her face with both hands now, I lean in until my mouth is a hairsbreadth from hers. Her eyes fall to my lips. I feel her wariness, but I also feel her hunger. She parts her lips and I watch with a deep ache in my groin as her tongue darts out to moisten them in anticipation of my kiss.
I restrain from slamming my mouth to hers, taking what I want. What she wants me to take, regardless of how she’s trying to refute me.
“But you will. Everyone has a price, Summer. What’s yours?”
About the Author:
As a USA Today Bestselling author, I write stories that are deeply emotional with flawed characters, because humans ARE flawed and if we read about perfect characters living in their perfect world, first of all, snoozer, but secondly, we never experience the gratification of redemption.
Outside of writing, I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and am obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicous cycle. I love carbs, but there’s love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out. My iPad and me: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a bad-ass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).
That magic number that will get us to agree to do anything, be anything.
Don’t sit on your gold-plated high horse and say you don’t because you do. Everyone does. Each of us has something we covet enough that we’d sell ourselves to have it.
What’s my tipping point, you ask? Apparently a cool quarter mil will do the trick.
What does one do for 250 large, you wonder? Anything the infamous, gorgeous playboy of Seattle wants. For the next four months I’ll be Shaw Mercer’s arm candy, his beck and call girl, his faux girlfriend. I’ll be his to command, mold, push and pull in any direction he sees fit.
I’ll fight falling into bed with him. I’ll fight falling in love with him even harder. I’ll fail at both. And when my past and present collide in the most unexpected of ways, I’ll learn that while one man’s love for me has never died, the only man’s love I really want will never be mine.
As a USA Today Bestselling author, I write stories that are deeply emotional with flawed characters, because humans ARE flawed and if we read about perfect characters living in their perfect world, first of all, snoozer, but secondly, we never experience the gratification of redemption.
Outside of writing, I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and am obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicous cycle. I love carbs, but there’s love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out. My iPad and me: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a bad-ass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).
Lost in Between by KL Kreig is coming February 20th!
Keep reading for an excerpt!
Blurb:
We all have one.
A price.
That magic number that will get us to agree to do anything, be anything.
Don’t sit on your gold-plated high horse and say you don’t because you do. Everyone does. Each of us has something we covet enough that we’d sell ourselves to have it.
What’s my tipping point, you ask? Apparently a cool quarter mil will do the trick.
What does one do for 250 large, you wonder? Anything the infamous, gorgeous playboy of Seattle wants. For the next four months I’ll be Shaw Mercer’s arm candy, his beck and call girl, his faux girlfriend. I’ll be his to command, mold, push and pull in any direction he sees fit.
I’ll fight falling into bed with him. I’ll fight falling in love with him even harder. I’ll fail at both. And when my past and present collide in the most unexpected of ways, I’ll learn that while one man’s love for me has never died, the only man’s love I really want will never be mine.
As long as Noah and I have known one another and as close as we are, he’s far from an open book. He holds some of life’s secrets so close to the vest, he’ll likely take them to his grave. So how he knows Ms. Randi Deveraux of La Dolce Vita is still a mystery he won’t divulge.
When he told me his plan and showed me the picture of the woman who’d play my love interest for the next several months, I was immediately drawn to the her, but it took me a few seconds to realize why.
It was her.
My spicy little Goldilocks.
The one I haven’t heard from.
The one I haven’t been able to get out of my fucking head for the past eight days.
The one my cock involuntarily gets hard for in the dark of night.
The glossy-colored print I stared at for long minutes was a complete contradiction to the fiery woman I’d met.
On paper her exterior was flawless. Not one sculpted eyebrow out of place. Striking blue eyes rimmed with the right amount of shadow, liner, and mascara that made them alluring but not slutty. Pouty lips painted a deep shade of maroon, lined impeccably so the stain didn’t seep, then glossed enough in the middle to draw your attention to their fullness. Hair curled into loose ribbons that fell over her shoulders and down her slim back.
But while the outside was practiced perfection, the inside screamed dead. Not damaged, not broken or bruised, but lifeless. This beautiful creature went through the motions. She moved through life without living. I don’t know how I saw it, or why, but I know it wasn’t a product of my overactive imagination. This woman’s pain was rooted deep but she put on an award-winning façade that told the outside world otherwise.
I saw the same thing when I stared into her fierce eyes under the cover of my sunglasses days ago, but I also saw something else. Smoking embers buried under piles of ash. God help me, but for some reason I want to be the man who stokes those smoldering cinders until they spark into a burning inferno, bringing her roaring back to life.
Standing before her now, I’ve no doubt I’m the igniter, the single match needed to wake her from the living dead.
“Summer, is it?” I close the door behind me and move to the couch, gesturing for her to sit.
She doesn’t. She just blinks rapidly like she’s seeing a ghost. That makes me smile for some reason.
I know the name she’s using is fake. I hate it. Not the name, per se, but the fact that I don’t know her real one. I told Ms. Deveraux my circumstances and my concern around using a fake name. The press will eventually find out and it’s best if we’re up front in the beginning rather than if they dig, thinking we’re hiding something. That would be disastrous. She agreed but told me the decision was up to Summer. If she agreed to my terms, I could plead my case. If not, then her anonymity was still protected.
“You don’t look like a Summer,” I say casually as I take a seat and cross my legs.
Although in a way she does. She’s hot and sultry and I’ve no doubt she’s nice and moist in the place I’m dying to drive my cock. Jesus, she is absolutely mouthwatering. And she has the sexiest fucking voice I have ever heard. It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking about her.
She crosses her arms and cocks a hip in irritation. “Is that so? What do I look like then?”
Mine.
Why that disturbing word pops into my head, I haven’t a clue. She is yours temporarily, though. If she agrees.
“How is your neck by the way?”
That seems to catch her off guard because her cocky bravado falters. “Uh…fine. It’s fine.” She unconsciously reaches up to palm it. My fingers itch, wishing they were on her skin instead. I still remember the electricity that ran down my arm when I touched her before. It set my cock on fire and it hasn’t stopped burning since. “You’re lucky, you know. I could be wearing a neck brace right now and be lawyered up.”
“And you’d still be just as beautiful.” I ignore the lawyer comment. I know it’s just a dig. When she blushes and looks away, my grin gets wider and I allow myself a few seconds to absorb her, head to toe. I find myself zeroing in on that tiny diamond stud in her nose, now catching the light. I first noticed it when she pounded on the window of my Rover calling me names. I generally find them childish, yet on her, I find myself incredibly turned on by it.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” On my lap would be preferable.
Defiant eyes snap back to mine. “Hit and run anyone else lately?”
“Hit and run?” I chuckle. “I didn’t hit and run you. I took accountability.”
“Yeah. After I dumped car parts into your lap, it was pretty hard to deny it any longer.”
Hell. This woman is full of restrained passion. She just needs someone to help her unleash it in a very controlled manner.
“Why haven’t you called about your car? Change your mind on whose fault it was?” I’m goading her, but Hot. Damn. The sparks firing from her are overly addictive.
“Oh, it was your fault, all right,” she snaps. “And I’ve been…busy.”
“Yes, I can imagine you have a very full schedule.” I sound more sarcastic than I intend, but the thought of her with other men makes me feel exactly the way I felt when I thought of Noah with her.
Her lips thin. She’s madder than a hornet. I’m harder than a two by four.
“Why are you here, Drive By?”
Drive By? I laugh at her feisty spirit. God, I want to kiss her. Feel her tongue sparring eagerly with mine. See if she tastes of rage and raw energy.
“I was under the impression you were agreeable to meeting with me.”
When Noah set this up, I insisted on three things.
One: it take place in Ms. Deveraux’s private home with her alone. There’s no way in hell I will be caught on film coming and going from her “business.”
Two: I meet with Ms. Deveraux in advance and work through the contractual details to my satisfaction. Let’s just say I now feel comfortable we have a mutual interest in keeping this arrangement buried deep.
And three: I be allowed to personally meet with “Summer” before she signs the contract. Surprisingly, that was the toughest piece to negotiate. Seems Ms. Deveraux is very protective of her, or maybe she’s that way with all of her employees.
Everything I have done to secure her has deviated from Ms. Deveraux’s normal course of business, but this situation is far from normal. It’s reckless at worst. Precarious at best.
“How did you find me?”
Sheer, dumb luck.
“I’m very resourceful.”
Her forehead creases. “This is a mistake.”
She turns to leave and I panic. True blistering panic sears through me at the thought she’s about to walk through that door and I may never see her again. I don’t know her real name. I don’t know how to contact her and if this meeting goes south, I know I won’t get anything further about her from Randi Deveraux. If she walks out on me now, I highly doubt she’ll give me the time of day when she finally does call Dane about her car.
I don’t know why I care that I spend the next few months with her and only her so damn much. I just do.
“Wait,” I plead.
She stops but doesn’t turn. I have no idea what possesses me, but I close the distance between us until I’m a whisper away. Our body heat plays off each other, growing hotter by the second.
“You haven’t even listened to my proposal,” I say against her ear.
Her breath kicks up. Good. She’s not unaffected by me, and that will play into my hand nicely.
“You can get someone else,” she replies softly, without conviction.
Drawing her long hair off her shoulder, I let my finger feather across her bare flesh. It’s soft and silky. She shivers. I suppress a moan. Fuck, I want her so much. It makes no sense.
“I don’t want anyone else,” I tell her truthfully, keeping my voice low.
“Why?” she breathes.
I don’t know why. I have no idea what it is about her that draws me in. I wish I did. I need to stop it. I should end this right now—look at a dozen other pictures and pick a woman whose very presence doesn’t twist me into knots and make me have thoughts I’ve never had before. Thoughts that make me uncomfortable. It’s unnerving.
But, fuck me. I can’t. There is just something different about this woman and I won’t rest until I find out what it is.
“Have a seat. Just hear me out. Please,” I tack on sincerely.
She stands motionless and I wonder what her next move will be. My hands curl into fists as I restrain myself from throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her to my house. I think she could benefit greatly from a hard hand and a red ass. I have a feeling she might even enjoy it.
When she floats effortlessly to one of the velvet-covered chairs, I release a veiled breath. Picking up the contract from the edge of Ms. Deveraux’s desk, I make myself comfortable across from her and place the paperwork on the table separating us. Her eyes drop to it but she makes no move to pick it up.
“So what’s your proposal, Mr. Knowles?”
“Mr. Knowles?”
“That’s your name, right? Dane Knowles. Wildemer & Company?”
Amused, I rest my elbows on my knees and grin at her. “No. Dane is my assistant. I told you to call him and he’d take care of the damage to your death box.”
“Death box?” She sounds offended.
“Do you know what the safety rating is on that little tin can you drive?” When she opens her mouth to respond, I talk over her. “Five point seven out of ten. You’re basically driving around in your own steel coffin.”
I expect a hot retort or for her to leave in a huff. What I don’t expect is a genuine, breathtaking smile that lights up her face like summer and makes my cock knock uncomfortably on my zipper in a futile attempt to reach her. My God, she’s trying to kill me already.
“Are you a walking Kelly Blue Book of safety ratings, Mr.…?”
“I have a vast array of useless Trivial Pursuit knowledge up here,” I retort with a smirk, finger pointing to my temple. I’ll never admit that I looked it up after our little accident. She could be seriously hurt in that ridiculous miniature box on wheels that somehow passes for a fucking car. Hell, had I hit her any harder, she would be in the hospital. “And I’m Shaw. Shaw Mercer.”
“Shaw Mercer,” she repeats slowly like she’s tasting my name for the first time. Savoring every consonant and every vowel. Fuck. I sit back and cross one leg over the other to hide my rock-hard erection.
“Any relation to Preston Mercer?”
I nod, impressed that she tied me back to my father instead of referring to me as one of Seattle’s most eligible bachelors. She’s intelligent and up on politics. I like that. Immensely. If you ask three-fourths of the residents of Seattle, they wouldn’t be able to tell you how many branches of government there are, something that’s taught in middle school, let alone who the mayor of Seattle is.
“So why is the mayor’s son…here?”
Her eyes are locked on mine, waiting on an answer.
When she swallows I follow the delicate line of her neck down to the swell of her breasts that peek out from the light pink strapless flowing dress she’s wearing like a fucking Greek goddess. One flick of my finger and I could find out the color of her areolas and the size of her nipples before I draw one into my mouth for a sample. My mouth waters at the thought.
The conversation that Ms. Deveraux and I had earlier about expectations sits hard in the pit of my stomach. On one hand, I was relieved to get confirmation she doesn’t sell herself, only her “time,” but now that I’m sitting here in front of her, I won’t rest until she lets me explore every square inch of not only her perfect body, but her complex mind. I want to know her like no one else has.
When our gazes connect again I’m sure mine is full of unmistakable heat. Hers definitely is.
She clears her throat and straightens her back. “I think you have the wrong idea about what it is I do.”
“I don’t,” I state plainly.
“I don’t sleep with my clients, Mr. Mercer.”
Oh, but you will. We both know our ingredients are explosive.
“Women would pay to have sex with me, not the other way around.”
She huffs a laugh as a wry look crosses her face. “Then what is it you need if not a good fuck?”
I chuckle and when I lean forward she straightens her spine. I love that even the simplest of movements I make in her direction affect her, just like she does to me. “Is that what I’ll be missing with you? A good fuck?” I won’t be missing a damn thing. She will be mine in every conceivable way. I know it and so does she.
“Not just good. Life altering,” she banters smoothly.
Now it’s my turn to smile slowly. What I wouldn’t give to throw her up against the wall and show her just what a life-altering fuck really is. For what seems like forever we stare at each other in some sort of weird silent challenge where we’re waiting to see what move the other will make.
Shaking myself out of her spell, I pick up the papers and hand them to her.
“What’s this?”
“Your employment contract.”
“All the paperwork is handled through Randi.”
“I want a little extra insurance.”
She quickly flips through the five-page document before lifting her eyes. “Nondisclosure agreement? This is sounding very fifty shades-ish. And just so you know, if I find any mention of hard limits or safe words, that’s a deal breaker.”
I can’t help but laugh loudly.
“I’m not kidding,” she says, her voice stern.
“Trust me, Goldilocks, if I could have gotten that past your warrior she-devil, I would have.”
Her eyes narrow, but I see a little twitch at the corner of her mouth so I forge ahead, making a mental note to invest in handcuffs and a flogger. Or six.
“The duration is for approximately the next four months. Ten hours a week, maybe more, maybe less, depending on my schedule. You may be required to travel and you will be available at all times when I need you, day or night. You will attend social events, fundraisers, business dinners, and family functions. You will be photographed and it’s only fair to warn you, you will likely be hounded by the press but I’ll try to shield you as much as possible.”
She regards me quietly. I wish I could tell what’s spinning around in that pretty little head of hers. A corner of my mouth tips when she says, “Reelection is just around the corner.”
Not a question and I don’t answer, but score another point for her.
For not the first time I wonder if this little plan of Noah’s will backfire, taking us all down in a curl of hot flames. She figured out what I was doing within two minutes. Lianna would be a far safer, more believable choice. But there’s also an undeniable, powerfully charged connection between us that will be hard for people to refute.
“And what is my role, specifically?”
Deciding I don’t care if this entire thing blows up in my face because that means I won’t get what I want—which is her—I stand and step around the table, holding out my hand.
When she tentatively sets hers in mine, I help her up and wrap one arm around her waist.
Pulling her close, I relish in the hitch of her breath. Cupping her cheek, I savor the baby-fine skin under the pad of my thumb. I take a deep breath, drinking in her delicately floral scent. She’s intoxicating and my head is already spinning.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her small hands going to my chest.
Dipping my head, I trail my nose along her jaw, stopping so my lips brush her ear. “Making sure we have chemistry.”
She mutters a curse under her breath I know I’m not meant to hear before stuttering, “Wh…why?”
Fuck, if she only knew the dirty things running through my head right now.
“Because, my wide-eyed little pretty, you’re going to play my new love interest. My girlfriend. My serious girlfriend.” I emphasize the word so she understands what she’s getting herself into. I won’t pay her to be in my bed but that doesn’t mean she won’t end up there anyway.
“I…I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” Her breathlessness is testing me and she’s only about half an inch away from finding out exactly how much.
Walking into this meeting, I had already agreed to what I thought was a generous offer with her boss, madam, keeper, whatever she’s called. But after the last fifteen minutes, I’ve decided I will pay whatever it takes to have her. To own her. I think I would give away my own soul.
Framing her face with both hands now, I lean in until my mouth is a hairsbreadth from hers. Her eyes fall to my lips. I feel her wariness, but I also feel her hunger. She parts her lips and I watch with a deep ache in my groin as her tongue darts out to moisten them in anticipation of my kiss.
I restrain from slamming my mouth to hers, taking what I want. What she wants me to take, regardless of how she’s trying to refute me.
“But you will. Everyone has a price, Summer. What’s yours?”
About the Author:
As a USA Today Bestselling author, I write stories that are deeply emotional with flawed characters, because humans ARE flawed and if we read about perfect characters living in their perfect world, first of all, snoozer, but secondly, we never experience the gratification of redemption.
Outside of writing, I’m just a regular ol’ Midwest girl who likes Game of Thrones and am obsessed with Modern Family and The Goldbergs. I run, I eat, I run, I eat. It’s a vicous cycle. I love carbs, but there’s love-hate relationship with my ass and thighs. Mostly hate. I like a good cocktail (oh hell…who am I kidding? I love any cocktail). I’m a huge creature of habit, but I’ll tell you I’m flexible. I read every single day and if I don’t get a chance…watch the hell out. My iPad and me: BFFs. I’m direct and I make no apologies for it. I swear too much. I love alternative music and in my next life I want to be a bad-ass female rocker. I hate, hate, hate spiders, telemarketers, liver, acne, winter and loose hairs that fall down my shirt (don’t ask, it’s a thing).
Dirty. Sexy. Deadly.
Dirty Dealers by Tia Louise IS LIVE!
“A gripping story that made my pulse—and other body parts—pound in anticipation of each turn of the page. Ms. Louise delivers on unexpected twists, heart-racing action, and most of all: a delicious hero in Logan Hunt.” ~ K.L. Kreig, USA Today Bestselling Author
“FIVE HOT STARS: What do you get when you mix a hot, strong alpha and a strong-willed, feisty heroine? The perfect mixture in Dirty Dealers! Page-turning, action-packed, panty-melting perfection on every page. I love the way Tia Louise’s weaves the perfect words to convey the emotions, grit, and suspense. She draws you into the story and never lets you go. Highly recommend!!!” –A.D. Justice, USA Today Bestselling Author
My job is to protect.
I’m the best, the king’s elite.
She’s the only thing strong enough to make me look away.
Logan Hunt is a guard. He’s constantly aware of his surroundings; he knows every angle; he searches and rescues. He’ll take a bullet.
His new assignment is to protect the queen regent, keep his eyes on her at all times. He’s more than up to the task…
Until a face from his past returns, and the one mission he’s sworn to complete becomes his biggest liability.
DIRTY DEALERS is an all-new stand-alone CONTEMPORARY ROMANTIC SUSPENSE coming Jan 24, 2017. It features secrets, lies, double-crosses, angst, a touch of darkness, and panty-melting sexytimes.
Her ankle turns, and Kass starts to fall. One swift move, and I scoop her up, into my arms.
“Oh!” she cries, gripping my biceps.
Her soft body is pressed against me, and her face is right at my chin. Her breath comes in quick pants, causing her breasts to rise and fall just beneath the thin material of her dress. With her sweater pushed back, I can see she’s not wearing a bra, and all the lust I’ve been fighting shoots straight to my cock.
I know she feels it. Her lids lower, and her eyes are trained on my mouth. Her lips part, and I can just see the tips of her white teeth when she speaks, low and breathless. “Thank you.”
Desire overrules my brain, and I don’t stop myself. I pull her to me, covering her mouth with mine. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s rough and punishing. It’s all the anger and the hurt and the worry she’s put me through these last days.
She meets me with equal strength. Her mouth moves with mine, and she tastes like mint and cool water. A little noise aches from her throat and fuck me, my dick gets harder. She’s soft in my arms, and my stomach fills with warmth, desire, possession.
How can I still want her so badly? She used me.
Breaking our lips apart, I look up at the sky. It’s thick with grey, swirling clouds. It mirrors the storm in my chest.
Kass’s forehead drops to my neck. She’s panting, and I feel her beaded nipples against my chest. I want to pull them into my mouth and suck them until she moans. I want to lower my pants and lift her skirt. I want to shove her panties aside and fuck her right here on this beach. I want it to be hard and angry. I want her begging me to forgive her, begging me for more.
I can see the whole thing, and it takes all my willpower to step back.
“I’m sorry.” I hold her arms until I’m sure she has her balance, until I’m back in control. “I’ll escort you to the house.”
“Yes.” Her voice is breathless.
About the Author:
The “Queen of Hot Romance,” Tia Louise is the Award-Winning, International Bestselling author of the ONE TO HOLD series.
From “Readers’ Choice” nominations, to picking up USA Today “Happily Ever After” nods, to winning “Favorite Erotica Author” (2015) and the “Lady Boner Award” (2014) (LOL!), nothing makes her happier than communicating with fans and weaving new tales into the Alexander-Knight world of stories.
A former journalist, Louise lives in the center of the USA with her lovely family and one grumpy cat. There, she dreams up stories she hopes are engaging, hot, and sexy, and that cause readers rethink common public locations…
Wrapped Up In Reading 