Inked & Sweet by Megan Slayer #contemporaryromance @MeganSlayer

Dante Malachi screwed his life up to epic proportions. His addictions nearly killed him before he hit rock bottom. Getting kicked out of the Malachi family was his motivation to clean up his act, but leaving his old life behind meant leaving her, as well. Rona’s the one he never forgot.

Rona never wanted to see Dante again. She blames him for the bad in her life — but also most of the good. When he comes back into her orbit, she knows she has to let him in — or get rid of him for good.

When a bomb threat throws them together, it’s up to Rona and Dante to decide if they want to extinguish the desire between them or reignite their fiery passion.

Preorder for June 25th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

Dante drove away from his brother’s guest house and growled. How dare his brother throw him out? How dare his brother demand he stop stealing money from the family? So he had no claim to the money and had treated his brothers shabbily, but Jesus. They didn’t have to throw him out.

Maybe he did deserve to be removed. He’d acted like a real dick to Kelly, Martin’s girl, and spent so much money on worthless shit — drink, drugs, tattoos… He’d run roughshod over his life.

God, he was awful.

He’d been a man on the run — from his life, his family, the explosions he’d set off. He wanted someone to hurt in the same way he had. No one knew the truth, and he hadn’t shared many details. Why should he? His attitude had pushed everyone away.

He drove off and didn’t look back. Fuck ’em. His brothers didn’t want him around, then fine. He’d show them he wasn’t just one thing — a screw-up. So his ex-wife and daughter hated him. So they refused to let him see his grandson.

Fine.

He’d become someone on his own. No more illegal shit. No more expecting others to do the work for him.

He’d do it.

He had no choice.

Dante left his old life behind in search of a new one. He had business skills and the ability to talk to people. He’d find something and survive.

He wasn’t that old and had time to do something different with his life.

He owed it to his brothers to change and become the man they knew he could be. Besides, he owed it to himself to be better than his past.

* * *

One year later…

Dante pulled into the Brass Pole parking lot for his nightly shift. For the last year, he’d worked his ass off to prove to the owner, Bruce, that he could do more than look menacing at the door. He didn’t mind being a bouncer, but he’d rather work steadily with the books. Bruce allowed him to fix the mistakes in the books twice a week, but Dante preferred his time in the office, rather than at the door. The impulse to steal money never quite left him, but there wasn’t the ready cash like at his family’s clubs. Besides, he needed the job and responsibility.

He left his clunker of a car and walked into the club. Bruce stood behind the bar, rather than in his usual spot with the bouncers.

“Bruce.” Dante clocked in. “Where’s Mick? Out again?” The regular bartender wasn’t always reliable unless he was behind the bar.

“He quit. Met a girl in Sutton and left. Something about the great peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Bruce said. “I have no idea what the hell that means, but it’s got to be code for something. That man always talks in code about sex.” He rinsed glasses, then left them on the towel.

“Could be.” He’d never heard of sex referred to as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but whatever. “Do you have someone lined up as a replacement?”

“Not yet. I’ve got some guys coming in for interviews tomorrow.” Bruce wiped a tall-boy glass. “I’d have you fill in, but I’m sending you upstairs.”

“You are?” He’d graduated to doing the books those two nights, but hadn’t tended bar in six months.

“The books are fine and can wait another night. I’ll be down here at the bar because you’re not supposed to be this close to booze. No, I’m going to have you serve upstairs. Nothing stronger than soft drinks, so it’s not hard. Besides, I trust you up there. Everyone wants to go up there to watch the action, and I know you’ll actually do the job,” Bruce said.

“Oh, you know it?” He’d do exactly what he was told to do because he needed to prove to himself and everyone else that he could handle the job.

“You’ll give me lip, but you’ll do the job.” Bruce rearranged the glasses on the towel. “Look, just do it. It’s one night, and tomorrow you’ll be back in your office. I’m bumping you up to three days a week.”

“You are?” Damn. He’d moved up in the world. “Thank you.” He’d been a belligerent shit in his former life, and this structure suited him. “I’ll make you happy.”

“I doubt it. You’re not going to become a five-foot-seven blonde with D-cups who’s going to blow me.” Bruce tossed the towel onto the counter. “I never doubted you’d do the work, so here are the rules. No fucking the girls upstairs, no getting in the middle of the scenes and don’t leave the bar. Come in on one of your nights off to play if you want. You’ve got the pass to get up there when you’re not working.”

“I work every night we’re open.” He didn’t care. He didn’t need to get involved with someone. Christ. His love life had been complicated enough before. He preferred the simplicity. That and he’d never have another lover like Rona in his life. She knew how to make him happy and indulged his wilder side without involving drugs or alcohol. Sure, being single sucked and his bed was too fucking big for one person, but being alone kept him out of trouble.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

Find Megan Online: Website | Facebook | Instagram

Demon’s Little Lamb by Marteeka Karland #NewAdult #ContemporaryRomance @marteekakarland

Demon's Little Lamb (Shadow Demons 2)

A Shadow Demon infatuated with the enemy: Azriel Ivanovich knows the new intern he’s hired at Argent Tech comes with a price tag. It’s possible the young, sexy college grad is in bed with the people trying to stage a takeover of the company he and his brothers built as a cover for their underground activities. With the help of a former member of one of the most dangerous and influential shady organizations in the world, Azriel and the Shadow Demons are about to stage a hostel takeover of their own. Of the permanent kind.

A little lamb lost among the wolves: All Lamb Newsome wants to do is start an exciting, promising life after graduation. The little break she takes in the Florida Keys before starting her new internship started things off smashingly. There she meets a wealthy man who is familiar with Argent Tech and they hit it off from the start. Both in bed and out of it. When she finds out he’s married, things unravel quickly. The mess that follows isn’t what she expected, however. Instead of a jealous wife, she has one of the owners of the company after her. In retrospect, she realizes she really shouldn’t have fallen for the guy, but the sex is just that good.

Betrayals and secret wars: Had she known the stakes, Lamb wouldn’t have bet her heart. Now all she can do is believe in her Shadow Demon — even if she doesn’t know how he lives in the shadows. Now, she has to survive. But how is she supposed to do that on her own? And how can she ever trust her heart again when all it wants is the Shadow Demon she can never have?

Warning: Age-gap romance, includes adult scenes and graphic violence.

Get it at Changeling Press

Preorder for February 12th at online booksellers

https://books2read.com/DemonsLittleLamb

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

“I got it! I got it!” Lamb Newsome thought her heart was going to beat through her chest. Her university advisor had gotten her an invite to apply for an internship at Argent Tech in Rockwell, Indiana just over a month ago. The invite alone was a monumental accomplishment, but to actually have been accepted? Yeah. She was on cloud nine.

“Shut up! You lie!” Karen, her best friend and roommate, looked at her with wide, round eyes, a huge smile splitting her face.

“Swear to God! Look!” She thrust the certified letter at Karen, who took it and read, her grin growing ever wider as she skimmed the important parts. “It’s signed by fucking Azriel Ivanovich himself!”

“I know, right?” Lamb stopped, then snatched the letter back, frowning as she examined it, holding it up to the light and everything. “You think he actually signed it? Might be a stamped signature.”

“Girl! That letter is on the fanciest paper stock I’ve ever seen. Of course he fucking signed it!” They both let out a squeal of delight. “When do you start? Will you still be able to go to Key West with us?”

“Yes. With about eight days to spare. Just enough time to recover from any hangovers and sunburn I bring home with me.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to be interning at Argent! I’m so jealous!” Karen didn’t look jealous. She looked as happy as Lamb was. They’d both worked so hard for the best jobs after grad school. Sure, they’d competed for every honor earned, but neither woman had taken their rivalry seriously.

An internship wasn’t permanent work, but it helped get her foot in the door and would give her valuable knowledge she’d have going into the next phase of her life. If she did well enough, and there was a spot available, she might even get to stay at Argent. That was a just a fleeting thought, though. Not an expectation. Argent rarely took on interns and never kept them longer than two years. But every single one had gone on to be one of the top minds in their given fields. She and Karen had competed for the Argent internship as well. Lamb figured it could have gone either way. She just got lucky.

“I can’t believe it either. But I’ll take it.”

Karen didn’t ask about the pay, and Lamb had no idea what it would be. Didn’t care. She doubted anyone who’d been offered a spot had truly cared about the income. They’d pay her what she was worth to them. Had they not thought she had potential, they wouldn’t have offered her a spot to begin with.

“You still ready to leave in the morning?” Karen gave her a grin as she took a pull from her beer.

“I’ll have to make a quick stop by campus to meet with the contact from Argent, so I’ll be a couple hours behind you guys, but yes. I’m still leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Awesome! We’ll save you a seat and have a mimosa ready for you when you get there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

They spent the rest of the evening drinking and celebrating. By the time Karen and the other three women in the group had stuffed their suitcases in the trunk of Karen’s little BMW, Lamb was in her car headed back to campus. The Ford Focus Lamb drove wasn’t fancy, but it would get her to the Keys and back.

The meeting on campus took less than an hour. By the end of it, Lamb was ready to cancel her vacation and start work immediately, but the man who’d spoken with her had insisted she take this time to relax. He promised she’d get little enough of it once she started work for them. Lamb had shaken his hand, unable to keep the huge grin off her face, then left.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

Release Blitz: The Painted Phoenix by Sarah Kay Moll #GayRomance #Thriller

Title: The Painted Phoenix

Author: Sarah Kay Moll

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: July 20, 2020

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 75200

Genre: Contemporary thriller, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, literary/genre fiction, criminals, crime syndicate, children, family drama, pansexual, polyamorous, open relationship, mental illness, artist, lawyer, tattoos, dark, depression, PTSD, HEA

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Synopsis

With paintbrush in hand, Nate Redfield takes a city full of ugliness and makes it beautiful. His quiet, empty life is a refuge from a harrowing past, and although he has nothing to love, he also has nothing to lose. Standing up to the syndicate is a good way to end up with a hole in his head, but Nate is not afraid to die.

For once in his life, he’s going to do the right thing, even if it kills him. And it probably will.

But the most dangerous criminal in the city—a man whose sadism and ruthlessness have become local legend—decides to spare Nate’s life. On the streets, Ras is a cold-blooded syndicate enforcer, and makes no apologies for it. But he pursues Nate with a tenderness like nothing Nate has ever known. While no amount of violence could compel Nate to betray his moral compass, love leaves him defenseless.

The vibrant portraits Nate paints tell every story but his own: a lost little girl who thinks of him as a father, a lawyer who tempers justice with compassion, a crime boss and an art thief, and the killer who stole his heart. Ras offers him the love he’s yearned for all his life, if only he is willing to close his eyes to the violent truth. But his story is not one of compromise. It is the story of an indomitable spirit, rising like fire from the ashes of his past.

Excerpt

The Painted Phoenix
Sarah Kay Moll © 2020
All Rights Reserved

The Cat Scratch Club. 2005
Ink on paper

Nate Redfield knows he’s going to die. He’s known it for a while now—woken up with it, gone to sleep with it, held it near to his heart. It’s not suicide, not exactly, but it might as well be. He might as well be putting a gun in his own mouth when he pushes open the doors to the Cat Scratch, the seedy strip club where Alan DiCiccio conducts his business.

He walks past the stage, strippers swaying, sliding their G-strings down their long, supple legs so a handful of men can spend their Friday afternoon appreciating the view. The bouncer at the back of the room gives him a nod and steps aside so he can push open an unlabeled black door and walk into what serves as DiCiccio’s office. Behind him, the bouncer’s heavy footsteps follow, and then the door clicks shut.

“You’re late,” DiCiccio says. “I hope you’s got some extra cash to make up for it.”

DiCiccio looks Mafia, through and through, with a New York accent and an unnecessarily formal black suit. But he’s not Mafia. There is no Mafia in this city, only the syndicate with a monopoly on crime and the muscle to keep it that way. DiCiccio works for them, so Nate does too. Or he did, anyway. Until today.

“I quit,” he says, and with those two words, his heart begins thumping, fast and heavy like someone’s banging the hell out of a snare drum in his chest.

“You quit?” DiCiccio leans forward over the scattered cash and bags of white powder on his desk to stare at Nate. “You fucking quit?” He looks up at the bouncer. “Bobby, am I hearing this shit right?”

“He said he quit,” Bobby responds. He’s a tall, beefy guy with stubble and a couple of big gold rings Nate imagines he wears just for the scars they leave on his victims. “You heard him right.”

“Okay…” DiCiccio draws the word out. “I’ll humor you, Nate. Why the fuck do you think you’re going to quit sellin‘ for me?”

Nate is silent for a moment, gathering his courage. “’Cause it’s wrong,” he says, standing still to give away no hint of the fear scrabbling inside him like some desperate animal.

“Oh, it’s wrong, is it?” DiCiccio puts his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair. “You think it’s wrong, Bobby?”

“No, boss. I think it’s his fucking job.”

“That’s right. It’s your fuckin’ job. Which I gave to you as an especial favor to my friend Troy. And now you come and you throw it in my face.”

“You told me the pills wouldn’t hurt anybody,” Nate says. “You said they’re not real drugs, and it’s not gonna hurt anybody that bad. But that’s not true. And I’m not gonna do it anymore.”

He thinks of the girl who used to buy from him every Tuesday, dark eyes, a bitter laugh. She was found dead from an overdose just a few days ago, and since then, Nate has been building his courage for this confrontation. He’s not going to walk away alive. But better him than another person like her.

“Nate, look. I like you; I really do. You’re a nice guy. But you come here and you tell me you’re not gonna do your job, and you really leave me no choice. You get what I’m sayin’?”

“Yeah.” Nate’s high voice comes out rough and raspy.

“No.” DiCiccio shakes his head. “I don’t think you do. What I’m sayin’ is that you get out there and you do your fuckin’ job, or Bobby here’s gonna have to fuck you up.” He puts his elbows on the desk and leans forward. “You understand that?”

Nate looks at the glinting rings on Bobby’s right hand, so thick and heavy he might as well be wearing a pair of brass knuckles. Nate’s not afraid to die, but he wishes it wasn’t going to hurt so much.

“I get it,” he says.

DiCiccio shakes his head sadly and glances at Bobby, jerking his head at Nate.

Bobby nods, solemnly, like they’re making a bank transaction—not playing around with someone’s life—and that just pisses Nate off.

A hot wave of anger crashes over him, and as Bobby approaches, he lunges forward, driving his fist into Bobby’s gut and then bringing a knee up hard between the hitman’s legs. Bobby makes a sharp, wounded noise, going to his knees, and Nate drives a hard kick to his ribs. He’s been in enough fights to know how to move and how to make sure the other guy isn’t getting back up anytime soon.

“That’s enough.”

It’s not DiCiccio speaking, but a low melodic voice Nate’s never heard before. He steps back from the groaning thug on the floor and looks up. A man stands in the doorway, his messy dark hair falling over his forehead, and he smiles at Nate. It’s the damnedest thing, this smile. It doesn’t fit the situation at all. It’s the kind of friendly, amused smile he might give Nate if they were walking their dogs in the park and the leashes got tangled together. It’s strange and surreal and almost familiar. And the adrenaline is stretching seconds into minutes into hours and highlighting every detail of this man who—Nate somehow just knows, from his arrogant stance and the tilt of his chin—now controls every aspect of the situation.

“Who would like to explain to me what’s going on?” the man asks.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ras,” DiCiccio says. “Make a little noise next time you walk in a room, you sneaky bastard.”

And Nate freezes, his earlier fancies iced over with fear because this is Ras, second in command to the syndicate boss and meanest motherfucker in the whole city. He’s heard a lot of talk about Ras—anyone who’s spent time in the criminal underworld has. The gossip rags love him. Their stories are sensational and exaggerated, but the rumors Nate hears on the streets—tales of sadism and deadly skill—make him think there is some truth to them.

“DiCiccio.” Ras doesn’t sound happy to see the drug dealer. “What’s all this?”

“Motherfucker attacked me,” Bobby moans as he picks himself up off the floor. “The little faggot fights dirty.”

Nate winces. He’s used to that word, but it still wounds more deeply than any other.

“He attacked you, did he?” Ras sounds unamused.

“He thinks he can quit,” DiCiccio says. “He comes in here givin’ me some bullshit story ‘bout how what we do is wrong, and he’s just not gonna do it anymore.”

The corner of Ras’s mouth twists upward, and he glances at Nate. “What we do is wrong. I can hardly fault him for being honest.”

“I’m not doin’ it anymore.” Nate’s mouth feels dry and sandpapery as he waits for Ras’s response.

“Great for you, you’re a big fuckin’ hero.” DiCiccio rolls his eyes. “You got any last words, big fuckin’ hero?”

“Fuck you,” Nate growls, anger coursing through him so hot he doesn’t feel the fear anymore—it’s burned away like a paper shell around something hard and relentless as iron.

DiCiccio raises his gun in one sallow hand. The bang of the gunshot is so loud Nate can almost feel it, a tangible burst of pressure. But nothing hurts. Nate looks down and is startled to find himself intact.

DiCiccio drops the gun and stumbles forward, collapsing on the carpet. A pool of red seeps out from under his head, a bright spatter painting the far wall.

Ras has holstered his gun, but clearly, he can draw so fast he may as well still be holding it. He turns to Bobby and raises an eyebrow.

“I swear to god I had nothing to do with it,” Bobby says, backing away as Ras approaches. “DiCiccio was the one who stole from you. I told him not to. I told him!”

Nate’s not stupid, he knows this isn’t going anywhere good. So while Ras pulls a little knife from his pocket, he darts out the door, sprinting for the parking lot. He draws in a shaky breath when the sunshine falls over him, so bright and carefree, but he can’t spare even a trembling second because he’s got to fucking run for it. He zigzags through alleyways, ducks into stores, and indiscriminately boards busses and trains, traveling across town in the wrong direction for a couple of hours before he feels safe enough to get on a train headed home.

He’s not an idiot—he knows that in this town, no one can watch a syndicate enforcer do a hit and walk away. He’s probably only delaying the inevitable, and as he watches the shining city outside the windows of the train, he wonders if he’s ever going to see it again. It seems fraught with fragile beauty, the blinding splashes of light reflected in storefront windows and the metal of the cars streaking by on the interstate.

In his entire life, he has only ever had one true love, so it makes sense that as he nears the edge of his lifetime, he has only one regret. He left her behind because he had no other choice, but he could no more stop loving her than he could stop his blood from flowing through his veins. And even when his heart has beat its final rhythm, that love will endure. He knows that much is true, even as he believes in nothing else.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon

Meet the Author

Sarah Kay Moll is a wordsmith and an amateur homemaker. She’s good with metaphors and bad with coffee stains, both of which result from a writing habit she hasn’t been able to quit. She lives a mostly solitary life, and as a result, might never say the right thing at parties. She’s passionate about books, and has about five hundred on her to-read pile. When she does go out, it’s probably to the library, the theater, or the non-profit where she volunteers.

Sarah lives in a beautiful corner of western Oregon where the trees are still changing color at the end of November and the mornings are misty and mysterious. She spends her free time playing video games and catering to her cat’s every whim.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

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Ruthless Sentinel by Lynn Burke #contemporaryromance #crimefiction @AuthorLynnBurke

Title: Ruthless Sentinel
Series: Vicious Vipers 2
Author: Lynn Burke
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: February 20, 2020
Cover Design: Designs by L~
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Working security for my MC brother, I’m tasked with protecting a crooked judge who targets his willful daughter with emotional abuse.
She’s beautiful. She’s confident and has a backbone of steel, but I recognize the pain in her eyes.

She distracts me from my job, and echoes of Pop’s taunts of my being a failure fester in my head.

But I will prove him wrong.

I will withstand our connection, the relentless pull between us.

I will protect her family—her—from the unknown enemy, even if it costs me my soul.

*This is the second book in the Vicious Vipers MC series and may be unsuitable for someone under 18 years of age. HEA guaranteed, however, secondary characters make appearances in other’s stories. Reading in order is recommended.

A blast of cold air hit my face, but my breath caught for an entirely different reason as subtle lilac and vanilla scents swirled around me.
Giada Burtonelli stood on the granite stoop, coat gaping open to reveal a jade-colored dress that wrapped around her body, cradling the type of tits I wanted to fuck. Tiny, tucked waist, perfect for the span of my hands. The skirt’s center split to display the top of her thighs, inches from the apex of where I bet heaven lay in wait—much too fucking short. Toned legs, tanned and smooth, led to spiked heels porn stars wore while getting their asses fucked.
My dick jolted, and I clenched my jaw against the combustion of lust that roared to life in my balls. Lifting my focus off her hot as fuck body to her face didn’t help matters. Eyes, green as spring grass, sharp as a damn Samurai sword, pierced through me with the type of instantaneous connection that robbed a man of his identity. Her full lips parted on a quick intake of air as her focus moved upward over my body to meet my gaze.
I’d seen pictures. Knew she’d be beautiful, but I didn’t expect my breath to be ripped from my lungs or the hairs on my body to stand at attention because of the energy crackling between us.
“You’re late!” Burtonelli barked from behind me.
Giada’s eyes hardened as she lifted her pointed chin, her ruby red lips thinning into a line.
I moved back, fucking tongue-tied.
“Hello to you, too, Father.” Low and husky, her voice thickened my dick even more.
“Could you make an effort to be on time just once, Giada?” Burtonelli moved toward her, his scowl raking down over her. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“Oscar,” she snipped her reply, her eyes flashing.
“You look like a whore. Fitting, I suppose, since you can’t seem to keep your legs closed to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who shows interest in you.”
I blinked, but her façade didn’t crack. Not the first time she’d heard such a thing, I expected as my fists clenched, but not my monkey…
Her father stalked past her. “I specifically said to be on time,” he continued. “You know how important this night is.” Stomping down the granite stairs toward the waiting limo in the circular drive, he muttered about people contributing to his campaign and what they might think of his daughter’s inappropriate attire—and the fact it was too late for her to change.
“You look lovely, dear,” Giada’s mother said, stepping forward, hands outstretched.
Kiss, kiss—fake as hell, before Mrs. Burtonelli hurried after her husband as though he tugged her along with a leash.
Marisa came next to greet her sister, her face pained as though empathetic toward Giada being her father’s verbal punching bag, but it was Cristian’s infectious grin and grabby hands to hug her that brought a smile to Giada’s face.
And Christ, what a smile. Dimple, flashing white teeth, eyes alight with enough joy to slam an uppercut into my gut, stealing my breath again.
I stared as they hugged, jealousy slithering in like a damn snake to wrap coils around my stomach and squeeze. Possessiveness wasn’t something I’d felt before, but fuck if I didn’t recognize its gut-twisting presence—even if it was her brother putting his hands on her.
Stretching my neck side to side, I tore my attention off the two siblings whispering to one another and glanced at Greed who watched me with a smirk on his face.
I scowled and spun to follow Marisa outside. I should have been the first into the night even though Burtonelli’s personal guards already awaited us in the circular drive out front, but everything about Giada distracted me.
My scowl deepened. Focus.
The plan had been for Greed to ride in the limo with the family while I took shotgun in the lead car, but I decided on a change while scanning their gated property in the darkening sky.
Three Burtonelli guards, including their driver and head of security who’d been placed beneath my command for the duration of the contract, stayed positioned where I’d commanded along the drive. All of us were connected by top of the line ear pieces provided by Tellier Security.
The driver stood by the car’s back door as Mrs. Burtonelli slid inside, the other two packing with heads swiveling where they waited by the cars boxing the limo in.
Hairs on my neck stirred, but without any sense of impending danger.
Giada.
I could feel her focus on my back like a soft caress, a whisper of fingertips along my spine, but I didn’t turn, even after the mansion’s front door slammed shut.
Fighting off shivers and my body’s distraction from my job, I strode toward the limo, waving the driver away. Cristian moved into my periphery as I pulled up by the opened door, and he slid in behind his oldest sister.
I feigned disinterest as Giada neared in a cloud of sweet, subtle lilac laced with vanilla.
My hand moved on its own, offering her assistance even though I continued to scan the property, senses beyond alert, my body strung fucking tight as hell.
Her smooth fingers danced across mine, and I gripped tight in sudden need to yank her close. Soothe the hurt her father had inflicted that she’d tried to hide behind a mask of who-gives-a-shit stubbornness.
I turned my focus on her face—she stared up at me, her eyes wide and lips parted. Currents raced through our clasped fingers, straight to my dick.
“Giada!” Her father’s annoyed call from inside the limo jerked her attention off me, and I grit my teeth while she bent down to get into the limo and join her family.
I released my hold on her hand and fought the need to watch her ass as she climbed into the limo. Greed approached, his inquisitive stare on my face.
“I’m riding with them,” I told him, my tone not welcoming argument or question.

© Lynn Burke 2020
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
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Spotlight: Torment by Erzabet Bishop #eroticromance #badboy #dangerous #alphamale #pre-order

Torment

*´¨✫)

¸.•´¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*¨)

✮ (¸.•´✶ (¸.•` New from USA Today bestselling author Erzabet Bishop!

Love mafia style dark romance? Check this one out today!

 

 

Torment_1a

 

Olivia

Wanting him had to be a sin…

He saved me from the darkness, but by then I could never go back to the light. His eyes haunted me. When I’m given the choice to offer up my body for one month in exchange for my brother’s life, I don’t even hesitate. It’s dangerous, this dance we’re in, and I can’t look away. But will it be enough?

Dane

Olivia was mine.

She stood there trembling in the dark, wounded, and that’s when I knew I had to have her. I would protect her, from our families and even from myself. But when fate handed her back to me on a silver platter, I couldn’t let her go. Her place was in my bed. All I had to do was survive long enough to keep her.

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