Risking It With Scott by Cameron Allie #NewAdult #NewRelease #Contemporary #RomanceBooks @CamAllieErotica @changelingpress

Risking it With Scott (Love Me or Leave Me 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Contemporary, New Adult

 

The most challenging part of Scott’s new job as a sales rep for Winters Beer is attempting to get the local bar, the Fiddler, to sell their brew. Why? The bartender, Mercedes. She’s gorgeous, sexy, and smart, and she turns him down every time he approaches her. After coming to her rescue, she rewards him with a kiss — and her number. But when it comes to love, Scott has a dirty past, and he’s not quite ready to risk his heart again. He hopes one carnal night will be enough to satisfy his need for the elusive barkeep.

Mercedes knows she shouldn’t trust Scott. Not after hearing the rumors at the bar, rumors from women saying he doesn’t call after their night together, or worse, he never calls at all in the first place. After one wild night in his bed, he delivers a crushing blow — he’s not interested in a relationship. But she’s welcome in his bed, anytime.

Will pride keep her from enjoying the pleasure she finds in his arms? Can Scott overlook past pain and risk his heart all over again?

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

pre-order for April 26th at retailers

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Cameron Allie

He’d been hoping to see Mercedes, but as the owner of the Fiddler droned on and on about building miniature tanks from World War One, his new hobby, it became clear that Scott was going to be disappointed.

As the newest sales rep at Winters Beer, Scott had been tasked with trying to build their brand in northwestern Ontario. He traveled to various restaurants, bars, and hotels in an attempt to get them to expand their product line to include Winters Beer.

For months he’d been trying to get Winters into the Fiddler. It was a popular watering hole, one his friends often frequented. The owner, Jim Sanders, was dragging his feet when it came to adding to the menu. Scott had a feeling Jim was looking to sell the bar. His interest seemed torn between too many things. Midlife crisis, Scott thought, as he looked over the man who had recently dyed his hair and was in the midst of growing a poorly shaped goatee.

It didn’t really bother Scott, though. He didn’t mind Jim’s hesitation. It gave him more opportunities to run into Mercedes.

As far as he was concerned, Mercedes was a goddess.

She was a bartender there. She had straight black hair, so straight that not a strand was ever out of place. Occasionally she’d braid a little strip down the front, and it would sway to and fro as she rushed to fill drink orders. She worked at both the Fiddler and at Club Ivy, a nearby night club. He noticed when she worked at the bar her makeup was always more conservative, yet still she wore bright lipstick, while at the club she usually wore a thick line of black eyeliner, curving out from the corner of her eye. It was generally enhanced by a bright color, a bold green or daring purple. Despite her workplace, she always had polished nails with little embellishments on the thumbnails.

He wanted to see her hair messed up after a night of passionate sex. He wanted to see her makeup smudged beneath her eyes come morning, but mostly he wanted to see those fingernails digging into his flesh as he rode deep between her legs.

Scott fought not to get a boner as he stood talking with Jim. He glanced toward the empty bar. The Fiddler wouldn’t be open for another hour, but sometimes Mercedes came in early. It was the best time to talk to her.

For months now he’d been chasing her. He’d flirt. She’d flirt. He’d ask her out. She’d say no.

He didn’t understand.

His best friend Heath kept telling him it was part of her job to flirt. She did it for tips, but Scott knew it was more than that. He knew there was something special between them. And he knew she felt it too.

He just couldn’t figure out why she kept turning him down.

Unhappy with how his business had concluded, Scott headed for the exit. Jim was still being reluctant, and Scott wondered if something more was happening than just stubbornness. Jim had said he’d meet with Allan again, but the whole thing pissed Scott off. It wasn’t the first time they’d set up a meeting, then Jim had blown Allan off and didn’t show up. Besides, it was Scott’s job to land the sale, not Allan’s. Allan was the owner of the company, and more recently, an engaged man. He should be spending his time showering his fiancée, Candice, with love and affection.

As he approached the double doors of the bar, he heard a frustrated voice through the wood, followed by repeated banging and thumping noises.

“Stupid, Goddamned, fuckin’ thing!”

Scott opened the door that wasn’t vibrating on its hinges and saw Mercedes standing on the other side trying in vain to pull her key out.

“Hey. Having some trouble?”

She glanced at him before straightening her braid. “No, I just thought I’d fight with the lock for no reason.” She returned her attention to the key and gave it another pull.

“Sorry,” she apologized for her outburst. “What are you doing here?”

“Talking with Jim. Again.”

She nodded. “I see. I take it that it didn’t go well?”

“He’s being stubborn.”

“Yeah, he’s like that. And cheap, too! Like this lock. It would take nothing to fix it. Hell, I offered to change it myself, but he won’t shell out the money for a new one. Stingy bastard.”

Worried Jim might overhear their conversation, Scott shut the door. He’d gone back to his office, but Scott didn’t want to chance her losing her job over a conversation. “Want me to get it out?” he offered.

Mercedes smiled at him. “It’s okay.” She tried again, failed, and slapped her palm against the wood surface. This time she refrained from swearing, though Scott assumed she’d only done so because he was standing there.

“Want me to try now?”

“No. I’ll get it.” Twenty seconds later, after jiggling and pulling the key, she slumped. With her forehead against the door she finally gave in. “It’s cold out here. I give.”

For December it was unseasonably warm, but he understood. “My fee just went up.”

“What?”

“My fee for helping. It went up. See, the first time you refused my help I understood. You wanted to do it yourself. The second time you were being stubborn, and I’ve had my fill of stubborn today. I’ll help you, but it will cost you.”

 

More from Cameron Allie at Changeling Press

 

Dragon Flux by Emily Carrington #PNR #UrbanFantasy #BDSM #GayRomance #NewRelease @changelingpress @CarringtonEmily

Dragon Flux (Dragon in Training 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Gay, Shapeshifters, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures

 

When Luke, a genie, figures out that his husband is depressed because they’ll never have children, Luke takes on the ultimate challenge and becomes a female dragon.

His husband, Mark, is put off by breasts and a vagina at first… but then he realizes it’s still Luke under the new curves and his lust for Luke can never be assuaged.

With all the struggles presented by pregnancy and prejudice from the magical world, will Mark and Luke bring their baby into the world amid joy or stress?

 

Available Today at Changeling Press

pre-order at retailers for April 26th

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

It was almost ten that night when Mark dragged his ass into the condo. His head hurt, his arms hurt — he’d been re-shelving boxes for the last two hours of his shift — and his brain hurt from the pounding he’d given it as he struggled to focus. Not even driving home in his muscle car could release his tension. Now, all he wanted to do was curl up beside Luke and fall into an exhausted sleep.

But the first thing to hit his senses when he opened the door was the scent of cinnamon rolls. His stomach growled and he realized he’d skipped dinner. Again.

Following his nose into the kitchen, he found that Luke had made the sticky pastries from scratch. And there was a small tub of fresh, thick frosting. It was still warm.

Rather than indulge his sweet tooth, Mark took the tub of frosting, crossed the living room, and stopped in the doorway to the master bedroom.

Luke, naked and holding a small knife, leaned against the closet door. He hadn’t used the knife yet and he was half hard.

“I thought I would have to draw blood without you,” the genie murmured, his eyes half lidded. The blade vanished. “Is that for me?”

Mark carried the frosting in and stood in front of his husband. “Is this your way of telling me I haven’t been paying you enough attention?”

“Something like that.” Luke dipped a finger into the tub and spread the gooey stuff over his shoulder. “I need your teeth, my Mark. Please.”

Mark hesitated. “Luke, I love you, but I’m exhausted.” He was also partially erect within his dress pants, but right now tiredness held sway.

The knife reappeared in Luke’s hand. Without preamble, he cut his shoulder through the frosting. He hissed but his cock twitched. “It’s just not the same.”

Mark’s mouth flooded with saliva. He swallowed. “Luke…” He reached out and ran a finger through the bloody mess, licking up sweetness and salt. His stomach growled again. “You’re irresistible, you know that?”

His lover grinned. “Bite me, or I’m going to have to make do with less satisfying means.” And he moved to cut himself again.

It probably would have seemed disgusting to anyone who wasn’t a dragon, but Mark lusted after Luke’s blood almost as much as he lusted after the genie himself. The fact that Luke got off on the pain only made it better. Mark moved close, briefly cupped Luke’s balls, and then set about licking off the frosting and blood. When it was all gone, he used his dragon-made saliva to heal the wound left behind. Then he took the tub and applied a generous portion to Luke’s other shoulder and upper arm. Then he began nibbling, licking, and lightly biting. Between them, Luke’s erection strained.

“Take your clothes off,” the genie begged.

“Would you mind making them disappear?” Mark grinned when Luke did as he asked. Then he stepped back, made sure he had Luke’s undivided attention, and stroked himself slowly.

Luke groaned. “Tease.”

 

More from Emily Carrington at Changeling Press

 

Took You for Granted by LM Spangler #SecondChances #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @authlmspangler @WildRosePress ‏

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Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: April 15, 2019

 

She lost him seven years ago. Now he’s back in her life… and back in her bed.

April Donovan thought she’d gotten over Grant Carmichael.

He broke her heart, took her feelings for granted, and chose a baseball career over her. She moved on with her life and eventually healed. Seven years later, a chance meeting throws that theory asunder, and several passionate moments rekindle the fire.

He wants her again—mind, soul, and…body

BUY LINKS

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2YScOfs

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/2uSz8YN

Bookstrand: https://bit.ly/2G4U9H6

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/ap/nlvm5x/LM-Spangler

 

EXCERPT

   And in about five minutes, he would be strolling back into her life. Not on a permanent basis, but she would see him again, and a flood of emotions would swallow her in their depths. She’d want him, both with her mind and her heart. She would fight, and she would lose the battle.

     As a settlement agent, her job was to close real estate transactions. Grant was a real estate broker who, along with his brothers, purchased houses, renovated them, and then flipped them for a profit. He had been quite successful and often used her. “April Donovan, it is you. I had wondered if AD stood for you.”

     She motioned toward a visitor’s chair opposite her. “Mr. Carmichael. Please sit down.” No, don’t sit. He stood astute and gorgeous in a charcoal, three-piece suit, with a soft gray dress shirt and burgundy tie. The slim fit complemented his physique. The Grant she remembered had worn jeans and T-shirts. This version was one hundred percent eye candy.

     His head tilted to the side, and his lips formed a thin line. “We have a past. No need for formalities.”

April prayed her pulse wasn’t visibly pounding in her neck. Her eyes bored into his. Damn, he’s still gorgeous. His black hair was trimmed close to his head on the sides and longer and more disheveled on top, suiting his angular face. His jaw was still strong and could probably still take a punch. She had seen it happen before. Her gaze fell to his lips—lips that could make her tremble as they moved over her skin. Heat flooded her core, and she clenched her thighs together.

     She cleared her throat. “That is correct, Mr. Carmichael. We did have a past, but we have nothing now.”

     His brows rose, and a slow, sexy grin turned his lips upward. “Okay. We can play it your way.” He lowered his six-foot, two-inch frame into the vacant seat. “For now.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

LM Spangler lives in South Central Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, three dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and some fish. Her son serves his country in the US Navy.

She is a fan of college football and any kind of baseball and likes to watch the Discovery, Velocity, HGTV, DIY, Science, and any channel showing a college football game. She also watches old game shows like $25,000 Pyramid and Match Game.

 

Author Social Media Links:

Facebook- https://facebook.com/lmspangler
Twitter: https://twitter.com/authlmspangler
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlmspangler/

The Case of the Dead Frat Boy by Stephanie Burke #PNR #UrbanFantasy #interracial #murdermystery @changelingpress @Flashycat

 

The Case of the Dead Frat Boy (Mai-Fly Mysteries 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures, Interracial, Murder Mystery

 

When an obnoxious frat boy hits on Fae Mai-Mai Collins, she nearly gets arrested for magical assault. But then he ends up dead on the back steps of her cafe, and her life, as well as that of her Gremlin lover, Ry-Ry, is sent into a tailspin.

Now the police are on her tail about the murder, her business has become a spectacle for Fae watchers and Fae haters alike, and her life seems to be in danger from some unknown force.

With a magical geas taking over her body to find the truth and a host of frat boys and sorority girls all lining up as suspects, it’s hard for the mild mannered coffee shop owner to tell who is guilty and who is the victim.

Is the true mystery discovering who killed the frat boy, or is it discovering what darkness lies beneath her skin?

Get it Today!

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke

“You know, I have a theory.”

Mai Collins looked up from the book she was trying to read and stared at the man who unceremoniously dropped down into the seat opposite to her. She looked around the nearly empty coffee shop before shooting her uninvited guest a narrow-eyed, exasperated look and then again glancing around the Java Jump, hoping that he would catch the hint, but nope. He went right on speaking as if the huge, unsubtle hint she had thrown in his direction had never happened.

“I think you’re beautiful, but you would be even more so if you smiled.”

As if to demonstrate, he opened his mouth in some facsimile of a Miss Universe smile, complete with dimples. She was nearly blinded by the blue-white porcelain caps that glinted in the recessed lighting like a cosmetically implanted dental star. All that was missing was the high-pitched tone emphasizing the perfection of his artificial smile.

He really wasn’t that bad looking, once you got past the artificial moonlight of his teeth. He had short dark hair, deeply tanned skin, and a body that appeared to have more experience in a gym than in etiquette classes, because really… who just sits down at a table and throws out one of the cheesiest and most insulting pick-up lines ever?

This will not stand. She carefully placed a bookmark in her book and laid it on the table beside her cup of cooling peach nectar. People who creased pages were real monsters and deserved to be slapped about the face and head until they got a clue.

“You know,” she spoke in her smoothest tone, tossing long tendrils of her curly auburn hair behind her shoulders as she leaned forward. “I have a theory, too.” She shot him a sultry look that had him grinning harder and leaning forward to make their conversation more intimate.

“Really?” he encouraged eagerly. “Tell me more.”

“I have a theory that you will be more attractive from behind…” He perked up, then her voice fell flat “…as you walk away.” His smile fled and her face dropped into its usual resting bitch-face of epic proportions before she curled her lip in disgust, exposing two of the daintiest, sharpest fangs to ever grace a preternatural creature. “Care to test out my theory and prove how true it is? Why don’t you walk the fuck away?”

For a moment he stared at her in shock before the color drained from his face. The sound of his chair scraping back as he lurched to his feet was even sweeter than the sound of his muttered “You ain’t that hot” as he scurried out of her sight.

“I was right!” she called out to him. “You didn’t miss squat day, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a total ass!”

He left her shop, and she picked up her book.

Once again, life was beautiful.

* * *

Mai should have seen it coming. After all, she was dealing with humans, and when one dealt with humans it was best to assume the worst in any situation.

“I did not attack that boy,” she growled at the two detectives — Magics Division, of course — who now stood, grim-faced and determined as they tried to surround her in the middle of her coffee shop.

She glanced around at her customers. The humans showed a mixture of concern and fascination as they tried to see what was going to happen next. Most, however, being Fae themselves, were doing one of two things: the newbies were heading for the hills at the first sight of the iron badges and suppressant collars that hung from the two officers’ belts; and the regulars had their phones out because Fae harassment by law enforcement was finally getting recognition as something that every Fae, no matter the type, had to put up with because of the stupid magical malfeasance laws. The damn laws hadn’t really changed since the 1500s, when most Fae populations decided to make themselves known to humans — with the most disastrous of consequences. There was a time not too long ago when the Fae could be killed on sight, and from the way the police behaved, one would think those laws still applied.

And finally, the watchers who believed Fae were genuinely evil and were a blight against their god, no matter who or what they were worshiping this week, were trying to pack themselves into her coffee shop to see the downfall of another twisted being that shouldn’t exist.

For someone who liked to live life low-key, this was an utter disaster.

 

Along Came a Demon by Marteeka Karland #DarkDesire #NewRelease #SFR @changelingpress @marteekakarland

 

Along Came a Demon (Shadow Demons 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Sci-fi, Dark Desire,
Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance

 

A Shadow Demon, hell-bent on protecting his city…

Alexei Petrov has more money than he can ever spend in many lifetimes, but his life is more than glitz and glamour. Behind the scenes, Alex is part of an elite group working in the shadows, hunting down those who would prey on the most vulnerable in the city. Which is how he found the most desirable women he’s ever seen.

A young mother in fear for the life of her child…

Merrily fled with her daughter with death on her heels. She has no idea what her father has done, but he’s managed to throw her and little Bellarose into the middle of a war. Scared, hunted, Merrily gets caught in the crossfire of what looks like a gang war, but it’s something far more sinister. A desperate flight lands her in the arms of Alexie Petrov. Literally. And the man is everything she knows she can never have but wants with every fiber of her being.

Nowhere to hide…

Even tucked safely away in the home of the richest, most powerful man in the city of Rockwell, Merrily’s past finally catches up with her. Bellarose’s father has come calling, and hell is hot on his heels. Fleeing seems like her only option, but Alex is just as dangerous as anything headed her way. And far too seductive and possessive for her peace of mind. Though she knows he will only break her heart, Merrily can’t resist the lust that burns between them and soon finds herself more than infatuated with the man. Needing to prove her worth, Merrily knows she’s up for the challenge. Welcomes it. But just who are the demons in the night? And why does she welcome this one’s embrace?

Get it Today!

 

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His Private Dancer (The Jordan Brothers) by Megan Slayer #BDSM #DarkDesire #RomanceBooks #eroticbooks @changelingpress @MeganSlayer

His Private Dancer (The Jordan Brothers 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, 2nd Chance Romance, Dark Desires

 

I want what I want, no question — even her.

Dashiell “Dash” Jordan runs the city of Shaker with an iron fist. Whatever he wants, he gets — except the woman he craves, who hasn’t been available. He’s waited long enough, and nothing will stop him, not even her bastard ex-husband or her con artist father. But once Dash sets his sights on her, will she allow herself to be owned, or will she walk away a second time?

Christy Lane never loved anyone the way she did Dash. She knew the danger of being with him, but she didn’t care. Then Dash left her. She tried to put her life back together, but that life included marriage to a perpetual cheater, being thrown out of her father’s church, and working in the only job she can get — stripping. Then Dash reappears. The memories of their life together rush back — the scenes, the passion and craving. She doesn’t want to be a plaything, but he’s offering her the world. Will she allow him to own her or end their second chance before she’s hurt again?

Get it Today!

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Megan Slayer

“Did you see this?” Tate Moore strolled into the office. “Dash?” He threw the newspaper on Dash’s desk. “I have found you a wife.”

Dashiell Jordan moved his tablet out of the way and accepted the newspaper. He needed a lot of things in his life, but not a wife — at least not a random woman to be his wife. He wanted his high-school sweetheart.

“Sir, you need to see her.” Tate pointed to one of the photos. “I bet she’d be a good wife.”

He turned the paper around and scanned the images. None of the women was his girl. He wasn’t even sure which one Tate meant and didn’t care. He knew where his woman was and when the time was right, he’d bring her home. “Why would you pick this one?” The woman was pretty enough, but not right. Her hair was too dark, her eyes were brown, and the smile didn’t match the one he remembered. Besides, she was way too young. “No, thanks.”

“Sir, you’re too picky.” Tate folded his arms. “I get it. You want the right woman, but you’re lonely and I’m tired of women who claim they’ve been with you… they come around and insist they’re your girlfriend. They think they should live here.”

“At the club?” Dash laughed. No one outside of his circle of close associates knew where he lived. He brought lovers to the hotel. Never to his home.

“Remember Sasha? She keeps stopping here. She thinks you’re together,” Tate said.

“I never slept with her.” He’d given the woman money and a place to stay because he’d felt sorry for her, but he hadn’t been attracted to Sasha.

“But she is telling everyone within earshot that she’s your girl. She says she’s a kept woman,” Tate said. “You have to set the record straight.”

“Jesus.” Being notorious meant he drew a certain type of people into his orbit, but this was too much. “Pay her tab, get her a ride, and make sure she gets home.” He couldn’t push too hard — not in this instance. Sasha struck him as the type to use the courts to get what she wanted — money. If he danced around her a little more, she might get the message. If not, he had other ways of getting rid of her.

“Is that it?”

He glared at Tate. “Yes.”

“Yes, sir.” Tate left the office.

God damn it. He hated how he’d been turned into a commodity. Sasha and the others didn’t love him. They loved the money and status he brought. They wanted the relative fame of being associated with him. They’d never be able to handle the danger or stress of his life. They’d want him to settle down and create a family. Not going to happen.

He sighed. The woman he wanted wasn’t far away, and once the paperwork went through, he’d have her in his arms. He longed to kiss her — not stolen kisses or hidden embraces. Not playing games in the dark or under the threat of being caught, but having her on his arm for a night out. Once he had her, he’d never let Christy go. He’d found her, but refused to demand her to become his woman.

His phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. He read the identification screen. Clint, his brother. He tapped the button to retrieve the call and set the phone to speaker.

“Yes?”

“I hear you’re looking at buying the building on the north side of the Copa Room,” Clint said. “The Sandborn building?”

“Yes, I want to expand.” He turned the paper over without really looking at it, then flattened the page. He noticed the photos of exotic dancers in an advertisement for one of the clubs. The girls weren’t his type of woman, but he appreciated beauty. Maybe this week she’d be one of the featured dancers.

“Well, they want two hundred thousand, but because it’s vacant, we can talk them down,” Clint said. “A hundred-fifty thousand is more reasonable.”

“Why, if you know what to do and can get the price down, aren’t you negotiating? Clint, I’m one of your only clients.” None of the dancers caught his fancy, but he kept looking. He’d found proof Christy was stripping in one of the clubs, but hadn’t come across her yet. “Well? You should be in the business with me. We should be a team.”

“Because I don’t want to live with the danger. I like being legitimate,” Clint said. “But I’m already negotiating. They’re coming down on the price, so stay tuned.”

“Danger isn’t the only thing I live with.” He doubted Clint got death threats or was shot at on a regular basis. He turned the page of the paper. A slew of ads for strip clubs decorated the space. He looked over the images of the dancers for the one he wanted. There she was, right where he’d expected her to be — Chastity Lane at the X-Caliber Club. Time to visit. “Do you know the X-Caliber Club?”

“Dash.” Clint groaned. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? And no, I don’t. I’ve never been to a strip club. Father made sure my handlers didn’t take me to one. Why?”

“I heard nothing past a hundred-fifty thousand. If you can get the deal going, do it,” Dash said. “I’ve gone to a couple clubs, but not the X-Caliber.” He remembered how his father sheltered Dash’s oldest brother. Their father wanted Clint to stay clean and be the face of the family. Good for public relations, but bad because the family had never left the nightclub business. Clint had a head for real estate, but not running the string of entertainment hotspots.

“Who is she?” Clint asked. “I know it’s a chick.”

“Would you believe me if I said I found Christy?”

 

Cinder (Devil’s Boneyard MC) by Harley Wylde #MCromance #bikerbooks #NewAdult #silverfox #eroticbooks @changelingpress @HarleyW_Writer

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Contemporary, Interracial,
MC Romance, Silver Fox, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance

 

Meg – For ten years I suffered at the hands of a monster, bought at auction and forced to be a slave, at the whim of a Columbian drug lord who also ran underground fights. Then the Devil’s Boneyard came to rescue one of their own and I was free. I don’t know who I am anymore, or what my purpose is. I only know one thing. Cinder, the President of Devil’s Boneyard, makes me feel safe and that’s something I haven’t felt in forever. But one kiss and I’m seeing him in a new light, and I know that one kiss will never be enough.

Cinder – Meg’s a sweet girl, a little angel who tends to sing and distract me as she cleans my house. I never said she had to pay for her keep around here, but she insists. She’s easily thirty years my junior, which makes me feel like a sick fuck every time I get hard around her, especially after all she’s suffered. Then I royally fucked up and kissed her. Now that I’ve had a taste, I want more, even though I know we’re doomed. A threat to my club, and to Meg, has her under my roof 24/7, and I have no idea how I’ll keep myself from giving into temptation. Whoever leaked her information to The Inferno is going to pay in blood. Even if I haven’t claimed her, Meg is mine, and I always protect what’s mine.

WARNING: Scorching hot sex, a club president who isn’t afraid to inflict some violence on his enemies, and a woman who discovers she’s stronger than she thought. Please be advised there are mentions of physical and sexual abuse, as well as human trafficking of teens, even though nothing is described in detail.

Get it Today!

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Cinder

That damn woman was singing again. How the fuck was I supposed to concentrate on club business when she was sashaying all over the damn house belting out whatever song she’d last heard on the radio? All the women from Colombia were re-homed and off living their lives. Then there was Meg. Damn woman refused to leave the compound unless I sent two men with her. She was constantly jumping at shadows, and doing things like organizing my fucking closet by item type and color. Who the fuck did that shit?

When she started the song over, I growled and threw my pen across the room, watching it bounce off the wall and clatter to the floor. No matter how damn annoying I found it, I couldn’t very well go down there and growl at her. I’d tried it once and she’d promptly burst into tears before running from my house. Then I’d felt like an asshole for scaring her. I didn’t know what to do with her. The men gave her a wide berth most of the time, unless she needed something. They were all there in an instant if they thought Meg was having trouble, or needed protection.

She was always cooking for someone or other, cleaning my fucking house, doing my laundry. Hell, she even bought my groceries. I should be thrilled I didn’t have to handle any of that crap anymore, and I might have been, if the woman didn’t make me hard all the damn time. Even now, with her singing the same thing over and over, I was hard as a fucking steel post. I was staring sixty in the eye and Meg couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six. Young enough to be my daughter, damn near young enough to be my granddaughter. Made me feel like a sick fuck, even though the age difference didn’t seem to bother my VP. He was more than twenty years older than his wife, Clarity, and I’d never seen two people so in love. Except maybe Havoc and that psycho woman of his.

When I’d reached forty and hadn’t found a woman, I’d decided that family shit just wasn’t for me. I hadn’t even touched the club sluts, not in a long-ass time. It had gotten too fucking complicated when I discovered some of them were trying to get pregnant on purpose to trap me and the others in my club. After that, I went on dates here and there with older women in surrounding towns. I hadn’t scratched that itch in probably six months, which might explain why Meg was getting a rise out of my dick all the damn time. Or maybe it was just how sweetly she was curved. I had no doubt she’d be a nice handful if I had her in my bed.

My eye twitched when Meg started her damn song yet again. It wasn’t that the song was annoying so much as it pissed me off that my dick seemed to like her voice a little too much. I unfastened my pants, knowing there was only one way to fix this shit, at least for an hour or two. I pulled open the desk drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube and dragged the box of tissue closer. After squirting a liberal amount of the liquid on my palm, I wrapped my hand around my shaft and started stroking. My eyes slammed shut as her voice carried through the closed door, and I imagined the sounds she’d make as I pounded into her. It only took a few strokes after that for my cum to cover my hand and hit the desk. I groaned as my dick twitched but didn’t completely deflate.

After cleaning myself and the desk up, I tossed the tissues into the trash and shoved my chair back. I rose to my feet, fastened my pants, and decided enough was enough. The way she was affecting me today, I knew I’d be hard again within an hour, and I had too much shit to do to keep jerking off. I went through the house to the kitchen, where she’d dumped the laundry all over the table and seemed to be matching socks. Her hips swayed back and forth as she belted out the lyrics to whatever pop song was stuck in her head this time.

“Is all that fucking racket really necessary?” I asked, my tone a bit harsher than I’d intended.

She gasped, her hand at her throat as she spun to face me. Her wide, frightened eyes made me feel like a complete shit, but I could only handle so much. I needed her gone. Not just from my house, but from the compound. I just hadn’t figured out how to make that happen yet. I couldn’t exactly toss her out without anywhere to go or a way to take care of herself. I wasn’t that big a monster, but she was too fucking tempting.

“I can’t work with you singing at the top of your lungs,” I said. “I need to get the week’s numbers to Shade by end of the day so he can pay everyone, and it requires concentration.”

“I’m s-sorry, Cinder. I didn’t mean to keep you from working.” She glanced at the table full of laundry. “I can come back and finish this later. I was going to make lasagna for dinner with garlic bread, and I can always fold this stuff while it’s cooking.”

I ran a hand down my face, not sure how to make this clear to her without making her cry. “Meg, I appreciate you helping around here, and that you seem hell-bent on fattening me up, but I’m a grown-ass man and can take care of myself.”

“Right,” she said softly, her hands wringing in front of her. “I’ll just go, then. Sorry about the mess.”

She couldn’t quite hide the flash of pain in her eyes before she hurried out of the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the front door shut. I stared at the pile of laundry and wondered how asking for some quiet in my own fucking house could make me feel like such a bad man. It wasn’t like she was my fucking wife. I’d given her a place to stay, but it seemed she was always under my damn feet.

I went over to the table and swept the laundry back into the basket, then carried it to my room and dropped it on the bed. I’d fold the shit later and put it away. I couldn’t help but notice she’d made the damn bed already, with military precision at that. She’d been a quick study of how I liked to keep things, and made sure everything was perfect. Too perfect, if my closet was anything to go by. I had to wonder if she wasn’t a bit OCD.

Now that there was peace in the house, I could focus on the fucking reports and make sure my men were all paid. We’d sold a truck full of guns and ammo to some ex-military men I knew who had become vigilantes. Since they didn’t harm innocents, I didn’t mind doing business with them. Even the drugs we sold never made it into the hands of kids. I made damn sure of that. Anyone who bought from us knew better than to pull that shit, or they’d end up with a bullet between their eyes. These days we only dealt in pot, but I didn’t want to hear about some fifteen-year-old getting high off the stuff we grew and killing themselves or someone else.

I’d scaled back quite a bit on our illegal dealings, for the most part. We still had the chop shop and had opened a second one outside of town. The marijuana pulled in a small profit, and the guns were a nice bonus. When Scratch had discovered his daughter was alive, and he was going to be a grandpa, I’d pulled back from the heavier stuff. Didn’t want any of that blowing back on my VP’s family. Shade had said he could invest some of the club funds and double our profits, so I’d given him a few hundred grand to play with. Now he was investing over half a million on a monthly basis thanks to the nest egg those initial profits had brought in.

We’d never be completely legit, and I was fine with that, but I also didn’t want the law breathing down our necks and chance any of the men with families getting locked up. It was my job to protect everyone in the Devil’s Boneyard, down to the smallest kid. If that meant fewer illegal dealings, then so be it. I still took the odd job from the government as well, but the older I got, the less they called on me. Couldn’t blame them. I was still sharp, still had perfect vision, but I was getting old compared to the eighteen-year-olds they were recruiting.

I’d just finished the week’s numbers and stuffed everything in a folder for Shade when my doorbell rang. I rubbed my eyes and hoped like hell Meg wasn’t on my doorstep. I needed to get laid, and soon, if I was going to keep having her underfoot. I shoved my chair back and went to see who the fuck was bothering me. When I jerked open the door I saw Jordan with her two-year-old daughter, Lanie.

“Jordan, everything okay?” I asked.

She glared at me, her lips a thin line of displeasure and her eyes snapping with fire. I didn’t know who had pissed her off, but I had a feeling my afternoon just became incredibly busy. She was perfect for Havoc, but a general pain in my ass.

“Meg is crying and packing her shit,” Jordan said.

My heart stuttered in my chest. “What do you mean she’s packing? To go where?”

“She doesn’t know and apparently doesn’t care. You. Made. Her. Cry.”

Fuck. I hadn’t meant to drive Meg away completely, just out of my fucking house. Life was so much easier when I only had to deal with club sluts at the clubhouse. Adding women to the family just complicated shit and added drama I didn’t need.

“I never told her she had to leave the compound,” I said.

“No, just your damn house.” I heard Jordan’s jaw crack she was so damn angry. “If you don’t fix this shit, I’m going to leave Lanie with you. For an entire week.”

The demon spawn in her arms gave me a grin that I wasn’t about to admit scared the shit out of me. I didn’t do kids, especially not this kid. Loved Havoc, and Jordan for the most part, but their kid was damn frightening. Anyone else who spoke to me like this would have met my fist, but Jordan was a woman and I wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Not to mention, if I upset her, then she’d make it hell on Havoc, and the last thing I needed was my Sergeant at Arms being pissed at the world because his wife was being a bitch, even though that seemed to be Jordan’s default setting.

“I’ll go talk to Meg,” I said.

My phone started ringing in my pocket and I pulled it out, noting CJ’s name on the screen. Jordan’s brother was a pain just like his damn sister, and I had serious doubts he’d ever be allowed to patch in, even if he hadn’t been fucking up as much lately.

“What?” I demanded as I answered.

“Uh, Pres, Meg is at the gate wanting to leave. Alone. With a bag in her hand. On foot.”

I closed my eyes and counted to twenty. “Keep her there. Don’t open that fucking gate for anything.”