Showing posts with label xpresso tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label xpresso tours. Show all posts

Aug 13, 2015

Spotlight Tour & Giveaway: When An Omega Snaps (A Lion’s Pride Series, #3) by Eve Langlais


When An Omega Snaps by Eve Langlais
(A Lion’s Pride #3)

Publication date: August 6th 2015
Genres: Adult, Paranormal

Synopsis:

Leo is the calm guy. The nice guy. The one nobody screws with. So could someone explain that to Meena so she stops driving him insane—with desire.

When Meena literally throws herself at Leo and declares he’s her mate, his first reaction is to deny—and run far, far away. This lion/tiger mix doesn’t do drama and chaos. Problem is, once he sets eyes on her, he can’t help but want the vivacious blonde with plus-sized curves, perfect for a big man like himself.

He wants her even if it breaks all his rules when it comes to women.
Wants her even if she destroys his serenity.
Wants her more than a perfectly grilled piece of steak with a dash of garlic, pepper, and salt.

Thing is, someone else wants her too.

This poor omega is about to have his world turned upside down, which means everyone better watch out because when Leo experiences love, jealousy, and frustration for the first time, he doesn’t just snap—he roars!

EXCERPT

 
Leo was just minding his own business when he heard someone shout, “Heads up! Or is that heads down?”

Thunk.

Either way it didn’t matter. Leo caught the Frisbee with his noggin, which, given he was in the lobby of the condo complex he lived in, didn’t impress him one bit.

Some might have acted on that irritation—gone after the Frisbee tosser and scalped her. Others would have engaged in an unladylike tussle. But as the Pride’s omega, he had a certain standard to adhere to. Leo let the irritation roll off his really wide—so wide the college football coach almost cried when he wouldn’t play—shoulders.

With a nonchalance and calm that Leo strove to teach others, he kept walking toward the elevator, which happened to be where the purple disc landed. He refrained from crushing it. No need to blame the disc just because its thrower had poor aim.

An unfamiliar scent—feline and delicious—surrounded and brushed past him as a woman skipped by, intent on the Frisbee. The blonde, whom he didn’t recognize, stooped over to grab the plastic disc, her cropped athletic shorts molding every curve of her made-for-gripping ass and nibble-worthy thighs.

Everything about her was big, bold, and luscious.

Yummy. And it wasn’t just his inner beast that thought so.

Who is this delicious handful? He didn’t recall meeting her, and he certainly wouldn’t have forgotten her.

The unknown woman straightened and faced him, and by face him, he meant almost eye to eye, which was unheard of given he boasted a height of almost seven feet. Yet this woman with the wicked curves must have stood at least six foot one or a touch more.

She wasn’t dainty, not by any stretch, not with the way her impressive breasts strained at her T-shirt, distorting the cartoon on it that said, Delicate Freakn’ Flower. Her indented waist was accented by the flare of her hips, the quirk of her lips matched by the mirth in her eyes.

While not a man to allow himself to indulge in strong emotion, Leo was suddenly possessed of a powerful urge to drag this woman into his arms and…do decadent things that would get even his steady heart racing.

“Well, hello there, big fellow. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Indeed they hadn’t, or he would have remembered her—and remembered to avoid her because anyone could see by the saucy tilt to her hips and the appraising look in her eye that she spelled trouble.

Leo didn’t do trouble. He preferred calm moments. Serene outings. Quiet evenings. Very quiet. A quiet she disrupted with her Frisbee antics, so he took her to task. “You’re not supposed to play Frisbee inside. It’s one of the association rules.” He’d know since he helped draft them.

Leo liked rules, and he expected people to follow them. When any group of predators lived in close proximity, keeping hot tempers under control was important, hence his job to enforce the edicts and keep the peace.

“Aw, come on. Are you telling me there’s no playing inside either?” Her plump lower lip jutted. “Do you know I got in trouble by a nice policeman for playing on the street? Which was totally unfair. As if it was my fault that guy wasn’t pay attention and rear ended someone at the red light.”

“You were playing in the road?”

“Road, sidewalk, does it really matter? What’s more important is, if I can’t play inside, and I can’t play outside, where is a girl supposed to play?”

Upstairs, eleventh floor, condo unit 1101. His bedroom had plenty of room. Of course the sport he pictured didn’t involve any props. Nor did it include any clothes. But telling her she could play with him naked probably wasn’t the answer she looked for. “We don’t play in the city. Not enough room. That’s what the ranch is for.”

“Ah, the farm. That place is still around? Awesome.”

“You know of it?” He frowned. While not a closely guarded secret, only those with permission were allowed on the property. Since Leo tended to curate that list, he tended to know anyone who visited. But he couldn’t place her. “Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I visited. That’s what happens when a girl gets banned for a few years because of a few silly misunderstandings. Explode one carved pumpkin and people lose their minds. I see the lobby got repainted, no permanent harm done.”

Banned? Wait a second. He did know who this lady was. He’d heard Arik mention something about a cousin on his father’s side visiting for a bit. His words were actually, “Damned uncle asked me to let the brat come and hide out for a bit while some kind of calamity blows over in her hometown.”

To which Leo replied, “You know you can use the word ‘no’. I find it quite effective if I don’t want to get embroiled in unsavory situations.” The word no helped prevent a lot of unnecessary chaos.

Arik had laughed. “Say no to my uncle? Not happening. You haven’t met him yet. He’s the one guy I know who would make you look normal sized and when he’s not threatening to twist you into a pretzel, he’s the nicest guy you ever met. He’s also besieged by a set of troublemaking daughters.”

Both of whom had been banned by the previous pride alpha for causing too much damage and being a general nuisance.

While she had only recently arrived, Leo could already understand why the old king banished her. “You’re that troublemaker from out West, aren’t you?”

“Me, a troublemaker?” She fluttered her lashes. The problem was, with a mouth like hers, twisted into a smirk, she failed at the whole innocent look. “No, that’s my sister, Teena. I’m Meena, her twin, more commonly known as catastrophe. But you can call me your mate.”

With that, she flung herself on him and planted a big, juicy smooch on his lips.

And he liked it.

Rawr. 
 
 
About The Author:
 
 
Hello, my name is Eve and I am a Canadian author who loves to write hot romance, usually with werewolves, cyborgs or aliens.

I should warn you that I possess a twisted imagination and a sarcastic sense of humor something I like to let loose in my writing. I enjoy strong alpha males, and shifters. Lots of big, overprotective shifters. I am also extremely partial to aliens, the kind who like to abduct humans and then drive them insane...with pleasure. Do you like something a little darker? Then check out my cyborgs whose battle with humanity have captivated readers worldwide.

I love to write, and while I don't always know what my mind is going to come up with next, I can promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because I love a happily ever after.



 
 
Presented By
 
 
 

Aug 5, 2015

BOOK BLITZ: Defiler (Preyfinders #3) by Cari Silverwood

 
Defiler by Cari Silverwood
(Preyfinders #3)

Publication date:
July 28th 2015
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
Synopsis:
Our Earth is on the edge of destruction, our cities are pocked with missile craters, and beneath the surface the alien factory queen lurks.

Four women of power may be our saviors. The last is Talia. Gifted by earth magic with a mastery of edged weapons, she’s a katana-wielding, geek chick with a loathing of alpha men. Although mating enhances magic, she knows bonding with aliens must surely be wrong. Besides, her destined bond mate, Brask, is an Igrakk warrior of the caveman persuasion. One dominant male is bad enough. Dassenze, the alien man-god in the flesh, also desires her.

As they near their target, Talia’s man problems become the lesser of many evils, for the factory queen awaits them with her nerve chewers and her drills. The price for being avenging, kickass heroines could be a messy death.

Warning: Dominance and submission themes, dubious consent, hot aliens, and violence. Mild horror too if you’re squeamish.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25864595-defiler?ac=1

Purchase:
AMAZON / B&N
 
 
Excerpt 
 
The rhythm of the fight sang to her muscles and her mind. Brask went down to her blade, once, twice. They commenced again. The clunk and clang echoed in the room. Outside was pure darkness due to the window reflecting back the faint light Dassenze possessed. She parried and leapt backward, ready to return.

“Stop!” Dassenze cried. “Let’s try this instead. Catch.”

Brask caught the flung object and sent his sword skidding along the table toward Dassenze. The object was small and pistol shaped. He held it up for her to see. “This simulates a handgun, Talia.”

“Yes. I can tell if it hits you. It emits intermittent bursts of green light. I want to see if you can avoid being shot before reaching Brask. It’s dark. You’re tired. I can see you’re slowing down.”

“Okay.” He didn’t miss much. She was tiring but so was Brask. She let her gaze calibrate the hard curves of his arms and the sheen of sweat on his chest and abdomen. These Igrakk aliens didn’t differ much at all from humans.

“Like what you see?” With his thumb, Brask flicked something on the pistol. A green dot blinked on the floor in front of him.

“I was simply comparing your anatomy to that of humans.”

“And? What did you decide?”

The angle of his eyebrow and timbre of his voice fascinated her. Anatomy sounded clinical and her reaction was definitely not that. Something about having to look up at him, even from across the room, triggered an oh yum response. Next she’d be asking for his autograph.

She untangled her thoughts and searched for a witty reply. It didn’t arrive in time and for once honesty came first.

“That you look very similar to a man.” She cleared her throat. “In your musculature. I’ve studied anatomy before getting my forensic pathology degree.”

“Does that surprise you?”

Dassenze chipped in. “Throughout the universe, all intelligent life, excluding our enemies the Bak-lal, are mammals and compatible enough to mate and produce viable offspring.”

His words died away. The room was quiet. She was alone with them and they all knew what the other was thinking. Reproduction. Sex. Only her thoughts had gone precisely, unerringly, to the dirtiest possible arrangement with the two of them fucking her at once.

Abort that thought. Shit, damn, and crap. Stop thinking dirty.

The heat of a blush arrived. Then she wondered if those specifications included the Ascend who were supposed to be gods. She wasn’t going to ask.

“In case you’re wondering, we Ascend don’t quite fit into that system.”

Could he mind read?

“We can mate but not have offspring. There have been no new Ascend for several hundred years.

That was sad. Her eyes fixed on Dassenze. “How old are you?” Could a god have an age?

“I’m very old.” His smile was barely there. “Now we’ve settled that. Begin. Get from where you are to Dassenze without being hit. Begin when this pen hits the floor.” He held his closed fist at his knee’s height.

The pen fell, tumbling.

Her flight was a rapid parabola curving to wall and back in, with a somersault and a spin to confuse his aim. The force when she hit him surprised even her and he thunked backward with her on top of him and the sword point diving toward his neck with her full weight behind it.

At the last microsecond, Brask batted it away. The sword flew sideways and stuck into the upholstery of a chair, yards away to the side.

A second later, it was back in her hand. Gaping, still straddling Brask’s stomach, she stared at the blade. How?

Then he hauled her down and kissed her.

The impact went through her like a flight of slow motion doves. Bliss. Everything shut down except an awareness of him beneath her and his lips on hers. His hand was at the back of her head and he threaded his fingers through her hair, gathering more in his fist to pull her even closer. To keep her still.

But she wasn’t going anywhere.

The kiss lasted forever, or it seemed so. While they kissed she lived only that moment, the press on her skin, the heat, the parting to allow his tongue inside her. When his lips left hers she was struck by the loss. She kept her eyes shut, reliving what had happened even though his breathing was still so close, inches away, warming her face.

And as he breathed, she rose and fell. Her thighs were spread. She was vulnerable, despite her position above.

She opened her eyes.

He looked up at her, smiling, with his fingers still tight in her hair, pulling on her scalp.

Any minute, he would fling her down and roll her over, pull down her tights and fuck her.

Her resistance had vanished. He could rip a hole in her tights and do her sitting here. She drew her lower lip between her teeth, on the edge of leaning down and whispering it to his ear.
 

 
AUTHOR BIO:
Cari Silverwood is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling writer of kinky darkness or sometimes of dark kinkiness, depending on her moods and the amount of time she's spent staring into the night. She has an ornery nature as well as a lethal curiosity that makes her want to upend plots and see what falls out when you shake them.

When others are writing bad men doing bad things you may find her writing good men who accidentally on purpose fall into the abyss and come out with their morals twisted in knots.

This might be because she comes from the land down under, Australia, or it could be her excessive consumption of wine.

Freaking out readers is her first love and her second love is freaking out the people living in her books. Her favorite hobby is convincing people she has a basement...though she really doesn't. Promise. If it existed it would be a terrifying place where you would find all the dangerous things that you never knew you craved.

Own me Until Forever, Book 5 in the Pierced Hearts series, will be out late 2014.

My website, if you're curious about my other evil pursuits: http://www.carisilverwood.net/

To find out about upcoming releases, please join Cari's mailing list here carisilverwood.net/about-me.html

Author links:

http://www.carisilverwood.net/index.html
https://www.facebook.com/cari.silverwood
https://twitter.com/CariSilverwood
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4912047.Cari_Silverwood


Presented By


Jun 4, 2015

Spotlight Tour & Giveaway : Better When It Hurts (Stripped, #2) by Skye Warren


Better When It Hurts by Skye Warren 
(Stripped #2) 
Publication date: June 4th 2015 
Genres: Adult, Romance



Synopsis:

Five years ago we lived in the same house. He was the ultimate bad boy. And my foster brother.

Now he’s back. Tougher, harder, meaner. All of it aimed at me, because I was the one who sent him away. It’s payback time. He wants his pound of flesh, and I am helpless to say no.





Purchase:
AMAZON / B & N 


~ EXCERPT ~

The door slams open, and Blue strides into the room. A burst of sound follows him in the seconds before the door swings shut. I shrink back against the lockers before I can help it. That doesn’t stop him. It doesn’t even slow him down as he steps right into my space, just inches from my face, still breathing hard. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His eyes are still wild from the fight, violence and victory mixed together. 

I try not to flinch. “I wanted to…to talk to you about something.” 

“How did you know I was fighting tonight?” 

I’m not going to tell on Candy, even if he’ll figure it out as soon as he sees her here. Instead I bite my lip and try to remember the speech I was going to give him. “Congratulations?” 

That wasn’t it. 

He shakes his head. “No, Lola. This isn’t one of your little games. I’m not one of the men you can lead around by my dick. Not anymore.” 

And then I do flinch, because the reminder of our past is too painful not to. “I’m not trying to lead you anywhere,” I whisper. 


His lips curve into a cold smile. “No? You brought me here, didn’t you? Just you and me and the rest of the world locked out. You made that happen.” 


Something pricks my eyes—tears. No no no. I can’t possibly cry in front of him. I don’t know why I’d cry at all. This is my life. I’m long past wishing for something different, aren’t I? I look down at the concrete floor so he won’t see me struggle. 

Of course he doesn’t accept that. His fingers—sweaty and gloveless—lift my chin. “Why’d you come here, Lola?” His voice is suddenly lower and strangely seductive. Maybe that’s how fucked-up I’ve gotten, that cruelty turns me on. “What do you want?” 

My fingers fumble as I pull the wallet from my back pocket. It’s still warm from my body as I hold it up. “This is yours. I stole it. I—I took it by accident.” 

That wasn’t what I’d meant to say at all. I’d meant to explain the situation like it happened—that I’d woken up with the wallet in my bed. That I had no memory of it, but obviously there had been a mistake. I’d taken nothing from the wallet, no harm no foul. 

Instead I’d stuttered like I was thirteen again, stealing everything I could slip into my pockets, confessing to my foster dad before he whipped me with his belt. 

Blue takes the wallet from me, his expression speculative. It’s almost as if he’s never seen it before, even though I know it belongs to him. I rifled through his things, touched the stone-faced plastic image on his license. And he knows I invaded his privacy that way, just like I invaded his pocket when he brought me home. 

He tosses the wallet onto a bench behind him, dismissing it. His hand lands on the locker beside me, blocking me in. His eyes meet mine. “You still steal.” 

“No,” I say, but his wallet calls me a liar. Naturally he’d remember the worst thing about me. I’d helped him remember. “Not anymore. Not usually except…I must have been drunk or something.” 

“You didn’t used to drink.” 

“A lot’s changed.” I used to hate the taste of beer. It reminded me too much of foster brothers with groping hands and tongues. I still couldn’t touch the stuff, but every now and then I used alcohol to try and numb the pain. It was just a shame it never worked. 

His gaze scans my body, unapologetic as it measures me, probes me, demands all my secrets. “I can see that.” 

I shrug, pretending to be unaffected. No, I am unaffected, damn it. “You see more than this every night.” 

“Less. When you’re naked up there onstage, that’s what you show to every man.” His eyes are hooded. “This is what you wore for me.”




AUTHOR BIO:



Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely tender. For those new to her work, consider the bestseller Wanderlust, Prisoner or the Dark Nights series starting with Trust in Me.


Author links:



*** GIVEAWAY ***

~ Blitz-wide giveaway (INTL) $50 Gift Card to Amazon



xoxo,

Purple

Apr 27, 2015

SPOTLIGHT TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Fracture by Amanda K. Byrne



Fracture by Amanda K. Byrne 
Publication date: April 21st 2015
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance


Synopsis:

Every nightmare has an end.

There’s no way Nora can ignore the beating. Same heavy boots. Same curses, same pained groans. But that was two years ago, and this a different man, a different part of war-ravaged Sarajevo. This is her second chance. She has to try.

And then she’s stuck with him, nursing him, putting up with him. Declan’s an ass. He’s rude and tactless. He’s arrogant. Dismissive.

Charming. Intense. Caring when she needs it most – and least expects it. He tears away the numbing fog that’s been her constant companion and offers her a way out and a way home.

And it damn near destroys her.

Nora’s survived two years in a war zone. Can Declan show her how to live?


Purchase: 
AMAZON / B & N / KOBO / iBOOKS


Excerpt


It starts to rain as I jog through the streets, circling and detouring to pick up my bag of food. Rivulets snake under my coat collar, my hair plastering itself to my head. My jeans get in on the action as well, sticking to my legs. I drip all over the floor as I climb the stairs to my flat. Hopefully the bread stayed dry. Well, dryish. 

Declan hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, his eyes glued to the monitor of his laptop. He grunts in response to my hello, and I leave the food in the kitchen. I squish past him to the bedroom, wincing at the trail of wet behind me. 

Peeling off my clothes is a lot of fun, the fabrics heavy and adhering to my skin in places. I drop them on the bathroom floor and retrieve a towel. My teeth are starting to chatter as I pull on a clean pair of panties. “Hey, Declan? Could you put on the tea kettle?” 

His answer is unintelligible. I toss the towel through the open bathroom door and dig through the clothes I piled into the closet in an attempt to straighten up the tiny room. I have a pair of fleece pants. I swear I do. 

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. I shut the door, didn’t I? Dammit, where are those pants? 

“What did you say? I didn’t hear-” I whirl around, sweatshirt clutched to my chest. “Oops. Sorry.” The wide, sly smile doesn’t make him look the least bit sorry. 

“Out. I asked you to put the kettle on. I’m freezing and I want tea. Out.” Turning my back, I tug the sweatshirt over my head and resume hunting for the pants. A strangled noise behind me must be my imagination. As is the flash of heat in Declan’s eyes when I glance over my shoulder. “What?” 

No one should be able to move that fast with a walking boot on. I’m braced against the wall with my legs wrapped around his waist before I can blink, desire shadowing his face. “Want me to warm you up?” he murmurs. 

“No.” Dammit, I was going for strong. Not breathy with need. 

“Too bad.” He takes my mouth and a searing heat zips through me like a wildfire. Yes. I need this. Need him, need his lips and tongue and oh god his tongue, his fingers clamped on my hips. Moaning when he drags his mouth away, I tip my head back to give him better access to my neck, biting my lip when his tongue completes a particularly wicked maneuver at the fragile spot under my ear. 

Lacing my fingers through his hair, I plunder his mouth as he does mine, wanting him to be as crazy with this need as I am. It swirls between us, a whirlpool threatening to drag us down, and his hand slips under my sweatshirt and finds my breast. 

I want to know what his skin feels like against my mouth. I want to taste every inch of him, and then go back and do it again. I want him under me, over me, inside me, making me forget, making me live. 

The heat of his hand and his mouth is gone as quickly as it came on. I stare at him, confused, dazed with lust. He stopped. Why did he stop? Especially when I can tell how ready he is? 

He slides his hands down my thighs and unwinds me from his waist, dropping me on my feet. “Warm enough now?” 

And he limps out of the room, cast thunking with every step.




AUTHOR BIO:



When she’s not plotting ways to sneak her latest shoe purchase past her partner, Amanda writes sexy, snarky romance and urban fantasy. She likes her heroines smart and unafraid to make mistakes, and her heroes strong enough to take them on.

If she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking hot chocolate, and trying not to destroy her house with her newest DIY project. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, and no, it really doesn’t rain that much.

Author links:



*** GIVEAWAY *** 

~ Tour-wide giveaway (INTL):
 $50 gift card to book retailer of your choice (Ends May 7th)


Presented By



xoxo,

Purple

Apr 6, 2015

SPOTLIGHT TOUR & GIVEAWAY: Breaking Away Series by Meli Raine

Breaking Away Series by Meli Raine 
(Breaking Away #1-3) 
Publication date: March 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense

Synopsis:

Finding Allie (Breaking Away #1)

Chase Halloway’s father is the president of Atlas, the drug dealing motorcycle gang that terrorizes most of our desert town.
My stepfather turns out to be a rival drug dealer, and I’m pretty sure he killed my mom two years ago.
I’m not supposed to fall in love with Chase. He’s not supposed to know I even exist.
But when he finds me, he can’t let go.
And when I find myself in his arms?
I hold tight.
I have to.
Because if I don’t, I might just die.
With or without him.

Chasing Allie (Breaking Away #2)

It turns out my stepfather has plans for me.
Plans that make dying look like a walk in the park.
He’s selling my virginity to a Mexican drug lord to get out of debt.
Chase just found out and is here to take me away to safety. To the ocean. To my dreams.
But while I’m gone, a murder takes place back home.
I receive a phone call. It’s the police.
I’m the prime suspect.
And if I go back, I may become the prime victim.
They say love conquers all, but can Chase save me from this?

Keeping Allie (Breaking Away #3)

Help.
I’m alone, tied up, bleeding and terrified.
I’m a prisoner at the Atlas motorcycle club compound. Someone kidnapped me, and it looks like it’s Chase.
No one knows I’m here. Then again, I’m no one, right? No mother, no stepfather, and my sister may have been kidnapped, too
They can make me disappear. Or worse. It turns out there are worse things than disappearing.
I thought Chase was my only hope.
Now he turns out to be my worst nightmare.
Something flickers in his eyes, though. A glimmer of love. If I can get him alone, maybe I can convince him to let me go. To let me live.
To let me go back to a time when I thought he was a good guy.
Only Chase has the power to make that happen.
Everything I am is in his hands right now.
And those hands are about to touch me.


Purchase:
(all 3 books in the series will be on sale for .99c)


EXCERPT


I feel the rumble of the motorcycle engines before I can hear them. The glasses on the bar start to shake and I slip, dropping one. It falls on the polished wood bar with a thud. Thank God it doesn’t shatter.

And then I hear them. Tires scraping against gravel. Engines without mufflers. The air changes. I’m filled with worry, like someone’s injected it into me. I reach up to put my fingers against my throat. I don’t know why. I haven’t done that since I was a little kid, afraid of the dark.

Just plain afraid.

My stepfather comes running from the back office, his eyes wild and arms tight with tension. His face is twisted with something I’ve never seen before. For a second, it makes me want to smile. For once, he looks like he’s nervous about something.

Good.

“Allie, you stay calm. Keep washing glasses.” His dark eyes narrow and he goes back to being cool and collected. The deep grooves of wrinkles in his face settle back to normal. His eyes are thin and tight, brown underneath the loose skin. 

He’s tall and wiry, fingers stained from chain smoking unfiltered Camels. He looks at least ten years older than he is. My mother’s death two years ago aged him. It aged me, too, but I wear it on the inside. He wears it on his face.

Jeff has two emotions. Angry and neutral. I’ve seen a lot of angry, but not much neutral.

He looks like he feels fear right now. That’s new.

I push my long, black hair behind one ear. I wish I had a scrunchie to pull it back in a ponytail. August in the dry, desert heat of inland Southern California means it’s always hot. Any other summer and I’d be getting ready to go back to school, but I graduated this year. Late summer stretches out like one hot, empty void.

Like the rest of a life I need to live but can’t.

The air conditioners have been groaning all day. The sound of the motorbikes drowns them out now. 

They are in the parking lot. Two. Three. Four. I can’t keep track of how many bikes pull up. My heart races but I keep it together. The last time a motorcycle gang came in, the bar got trashed. They beat Jeff up and the sheriff came.

Jeff can’t afford to have that happen again.

Blood rushes through me, pulsing hard. My fear is loud and clear.

He also got angry. Very angry. 

I can’t afford to have that happen again. 

Working at the bar is my only way to save money to move out of this town. I want to go live with my sister in Los Angeles. If the bar shuts down I don’t know what I’ll do. My hands polish the same shot glass over and over, like it’s a piece of silver. 

My heart dances in my chest. I look down at my t-shirt and see drops of sweat trickling down from my neck.

The air is not that hot. I’m nervous. Terrified. 

One of the bikers roars his engine outside. Another one does the same. Jeff comes back out with his cell phone in hand and starts talking angrily to someone on the phone. He is careful not to say anything loud enough for me to understand. I can’t hear a word. I can hear his fury, though.

I finish the shot glasses and load them on the shelf where they go. I’m shaking from the inside. 

The main door opens a tiny sliver. Blinding sunlight pours in like it’s invading.

And then he walks in through the door. The sunlight behind him is a halo, like he’s an angel. A rough one. The most amazing vision.

Thick, scuffed leather boots with hard wooden heels crack against the bare wood floor, one at a time. My eyes start with that first boot. Then I see another. He wears jeans, the kind that are used to being on a motorcycle rider’s body. His pants mold to thick, muscled legs. 

He wears a red and blue patch with an insignia I can’t see. Sunlight bounces off a thick belt buckle.

My blood runs cold and I freeze in place, my legs turning to jelly. I lean against the counter for support. I’m glad it’s there. My fingers need something to grab. My world is disintegrating under me. Looking at him replaces the world.

He’s a member of a motorcycle club.

I gaze at the patch he’s wearing but I can’t see it very clearly. It has a blue figure with red crescents on both sides. A warm rush of blood fills my face. His thick leather jacket is dirty and well-worn, dark as my hair and creased with age. A light-blue T-shirt sticks to his belly, slick with sweat. I can see the ridges of his abs. My fingers want to reach out and trace the lines of his muscles. I clench my fists so I won’t give in to the impulse.

“Jeff here?” His first words sound like ragged smoke and sunshine. My eyes meet his and he stays serious. We look at each other and time stops. Just...stops. His eyes widen and his jaw tightens as he searches my body with a look that says something I don’t understand.

But he feels what I feel. I can tell.

Pinpricks of heat from something other than the summer weather shoot through me. He looks like he’s older than me, and he’s steady and commanding. His hair is thick, the color of sand, and it’s messy, like he just rolled out of bed. Wolfish eyes skim over me, but he’s not in a rush. 

I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t do anything when he’s looking at me like that.

Please keep looking at me like that.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, his lips curling up in a half smile. His cheek moves the lines around his eyes. Light brown eyes with yellow chips, like someone shattered a gemstone. His eyes are like a lion’s, the color of a mane.

His eyes are dangerous and predatory. I can’t look away.

“Uh, Jeff’s in the back,” I say as the door closes slowly behind him, blocking out most of the light. I’m amazed that my mouth works at all. My mind can’t think. My body sure can feel, though.

I pause. What if I said the wrong thing? Jeff might not want anyone to know he’s here.

Vroom! Vroom! Engines blare outside. There are even more out there now. How many could there be? The man’s eyes narrow. He’s studying me. I like it. I don’t think I’m supposed to like it.

I can’t help myself.

“What’s your name?” he asks, a low rumble in his voice making me shiver. I’m not cold. 

“Allie.” I shift and jut out my chin to show him I’m not afraid of him. “What’s yours?”

His grin widens and now he takes one more step forward. I can smell him. His scent is sunshine and dust with enough musk to make me take another deep breath.

He smells so real.

“Chase.” His name rolls off his lips. “Nice to meet you, Allie.” He reaches one gloved hand out to shake, then stops.

Pulling the glove off, he waves his hand in the air. “Sweaty.”

I clasp it anyway. It’s hot and slick. The touch of skin on skin makes everything else in the world disappear. Our eyes meet and we can’t stop staring. Am I imagining this?

“Nice to meet you too, I guess.” I look behind him, at the door. “Why are you here?”

He laughs, tipping his head back. It makes him seem less dangerous. “For a drink! This is a bar, after all.” 

I smile, unable to tear my eyes away from him. 

He’s staring right back. 

The engines all trickle to silence. Boots scrape outside on the mottled gravel parking lot. Are they coming in? My heart swells and slams against my ribcage. If trouble is coming, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been here before during an actual fight.

“All of you coming in?” I ask. If they’re paying customers, then this is fine. Jeff acts like this isn’t fine, though.

“Allie!” Jeff shouts from the back. “Get back here.” That sounds like an order. Jeff likes to order me around.

Chase frowns. “He always talk to you like that?” His words come out like a growl.

Surprised, I give him confused look. “Like what?”

“Like he doesn’t have to be nice.” His voice pounds through me like a heartbeat. He is being possessive, like a protective boyfriend. I only just met him. 

The words sting because Chase is right. I swallow hard. Chase’s eyes are combing my face as if he’s trying to memorize me. I look away even as I wish he would watch me forever. 

Chase. I want to say his name aloud simply to hear it on my tongue. To feel it roll over my lips. If I say his name then he’s really here, he really shook my hand, and he really is looking at me like he wants to.

Like he needs to.

“Whose stepdad is nice to them?” I ask lightly, like I’m trying to blow off the comment. This is too intense. Too unreal. He’s right, though. A little too right. 

Chase’s fingers twitch and then his hand forms a fist. He’s staring in the direction where Jeff’s voice came from. He looks back toward the door where he entered.

“Good point,” he mutters, running his bare hand through that mop of hair. It makes him seem stronger. Darker. More in command.

“One second,” I say, turning away. I can feel his eyes bore into me. If I turn around now, I bet he’s staring at me. As I walk through the threshold to the back hallway I pause. Pretending to adjust something on a shelf, I look in the mirror behind the bar and catch his reflection.

I’m right. A shiver runs so fast through me I have to inhale sharply. This is a new feeling. I don’t know what to do. He’s gorgeous and frightening and the first of many bikers to show up now.

“Allie!” Jeff barks. I scurry back, cursing him in my head but knowing it doesn’t matter. I turn the corner into his office and his voice is so sharp he might as well cut me with it.

“You stop talking to Chase Halloway.”

“You know him?” Chase Halloway. The name makes me buzz all over.

Jeff’s face tightens. I asked the wrong question. By now I should know better. The butterfly of panic flaps its wings in my chest. How could I be so stupid?

He gives me a look that makes my stomach burn.

“What I know isn’t any of your concern. You just serve those bikers and don’t make trouble. No checks. It’s all on the house.”

“What?” My jaw drops. I can’t help it. Jeff never comps drinks for anyone except the sheriff. And he knows I can’t serve drinks. 

“You heard me. Don’t question it.” His voice is pure venom. 

I won’t. Not again. Jeff is not a violent man. Not toward me, anyway. When he has his bad moods, though, life can be hard. Very, very hard.

Loud voices interrupt us. I turn away and rush down the hallway to find at least twenty men and two women standing at the bar, lined up in a confusing group of laughing and angry faces.

A wolf whistle cuts the air. “Hey there, pretty girl.” A man older than Jeff, with all-grey hair in a fringe around his balding head, whistles again. 

“Where’s your daddy?” grunts another man. This one is huge, taller than Chase, but with features that are similar. Chase’s dad, maybe. It’s hard to tell. All the bikers are covered with a layer of road dirt. Their faces look tanner than they really are. 

“I’ll be her daddy,” shouts someone in the crowd. “Her sugar daddy.” A bunch of men laugh. My whole body goes cold with fear. I shut down. All I can think about is the baseball bat behind the bar. If I can get back there, maybe I’ll be safe.

“Cut it out,” Chase says, louder than the laughter. I look to my left and see him, alone, standing right where I left him.

His eyes are on me. Only me. But his words are for the crowd.

“Claiming her already?” someone shouts. There’s a challenge in the question.

Chase steps forward, closer to me. When he’s only a foot away, he pauses. I can feel his heat reaching out to pull me in. His arms don’t, though. 

Chase turns back to face them. “And if I am?”



AUTHOR BIO:


Meli Raine rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family. 

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