be the man she would marry. That isn’t what happened though. Instead, her grandfather got sick and passed away before Dani saw the age of nineteen. It was just her and Jared until he hooked up with a local MC, The Suicide Kings…
Then it was just her. Pig-Pen claimed her body, rules her life, but he would never hold her heart. Kept because of her looks and a particular set of skills unique only to her, Dani has been with The Suicide Kings for the last three years… three long damaging years. She hates it, all of it, the pain the humiliation, the fear… and as strong as Dani is, as clever as she can be, she is quickly finding that death may be the kinder, gentler option rather than live through any more of this hell.
slowly, quietly and carefully dismantling the King’s operation from the inside out. The situation is dangerous, good thing Thirteen is a dangerous guy but even he can’t be everywhere at once and a couple of missteps have cost the Sacred Hearts dearly. Doubly determined to finish this with no more wreckage or damage to the SHMC, Thirteen is blindsided by his heart when he lays eyes on
Dani. A pretty, little thing with long black hair and striking blue eyes. She slays him with one look from her damaged soul and now Thirteen has tasked himself with two missions… Take down The Suicide Kings and get both Dani and himself out alive.
I finished cleaning the clubhouse all the while trapped in memory. I didn’t realize that I’d had company as I’d worked. As usual, he was there, parked on the end of the couch, boots propped on the old, scarred, garage sale coffee table, only this early in the day he’d forgone the beer in favor of a bottle of water. Another thing that set him apart as ‘other’, to the rest of the guys beer was bottled water.
I secreted a small smile in his direction and he secreted one back but we didn’t speak, we didn’t need to. Soon, Skid came around and our little private moment was in the wind but that was okay. I knew that I could or would never be with Thirteen, but having him around had become a little ray of light in an otherwise darkened room. Maybe it was foolish to hope or to dream at this stage but I couldn’t help but believe that with a guy like Thirteen around the club, maybe, just maybe things could get better.
“What you smiling about?” Skid asked me as he bellied up to the bar. I startled, had I been smiling? I glanced at the older biker and he raised an eyebrow under his faded black do-rag.
“I don’t know…” I frowned and flailed helplessly inside my head for a convincing lie, “I was just thinking about a piece I was going to try and create. I think I have all the pieces now.”
Skid chuckled, “It’s good to see you smile Rac. How ‘bout you get me a beer? One of them ones with the orange dude on the label.” He turned on his stool and started talking to Thirteen who had been grinning like an idiot behind his back but who quickly schooled his features into neutrality before Skid turned.
I rolled my eyes at Thirteen behind Skid’s back and got Skid the bottle he asked for, popping the top. I set it on the bar by his hand and he picked it up and drank, never breaking his stride as the two of them spoke bike. I was simply nothing more than furniture again which I didn’t like but at the same time was definitely the lesser of two evils.
Pretty soon Gordy, Pipes and Cooter came in from the front of the club and I was serving them up drinks when Pig-Pen and Griz made their arrival. The rest of the guys started to trickle infrom the front or the back lot and girls started coming intermixed with the guy’s arrival. The party was in full swing the sky dark outside when Gordy swore and pounded his fist on the bar.
“God damn fucking son of a bitch!” he bellowed, looking at the lighted screen on his phone. Griz shoved down on the head of the strung out broad sucking him off and she choked, struggling.
“What is it now?” he demanded and let her up. She stood up disgusted and stumbled towards the bathrooms.
“Trouble!” Gordy declared, “But if we all go now we might make it, Ace and Deuce are holed up at the North West safe house, says Sacred Hearts have ‘em pinned down, four of ‘em.” Griz stood up and tucked himself back in his pants doing up his jeans.
“Boys! We’re goin’ huntin’!” he yelled. A cheer went up and I swallowed hard, Thirteen stood.
“Not you!” Gordy stabbed a finger at him.
“Take Coon to your place and keep her locked down. She’s our last bet on making any god damned money.”
Thirteen raised an eyebrow, “I live in a cabin with no electricity!” he declared.
“So fucking what!?” Pig-Pen called, “Don’t care if she’s comfortable, so long as she can produce. Don’t be god damned pussy over her pussy!”
Thirteen gave a shrug and I gathered my purse. The guys were all going out the back door to the parking lot where they kept their bikes I could already hear some of them firing up. Dredd and Flyer
were chasing out the club sluts, which truthfully there weren’t many left hanging around since the club’s drug supply started drying up. I came around the bar and Pig grabbed me by the elbow, hard.
“You’re my bitch, so don’t be getting any ideas about spreading those whore legs of yers for Pretty boy over there,” he muttered savagely in my ear, his breath washing over me, a fetid mixture of
whiskey and cigarettes with an overlay of just plain rot.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I plastered on a fake as hell sincere smile, “I know who takes care of me,” I said.
“Damn right.” And as if to prove his point he shoved his mouth against mine and his tongue in my mouth all the while looking daggers at Thirteen. I gave little resistance. I didn’t want or need any bruises except the ones that were likely imprinted on my arm from where he gripped me, besides that, I’d learned a long, long time ago that resistance was futile and only hurt more in the end. Pig-Pen finally broke the kiss and thrust me in Thirteen’s direction before going out the door.
“You good to ride?” he asked. I nodded grimly. I just wanted outside so I could spit. Thirteen grabbed my coat off the hook in the wall behind the bar and handed it to me and I shrugged into it.
“C’mon.” he put a hand on my shoulder and made like he was shoving me in front of him out the door, though his grip on my shoulder was light, not painful. He put on his helmet and glasses sitting
astride his bike. I put on the spare and with one final brave smile at Pig who was glaring at me and standing with Griz and Gordy I got on behind Thirteen.
Text Copyright © 2015 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
She has lived many places and done many things though mostly through her own imagination… An avid reader all of her life it’s now her turn to try and give back a little, entertaining as she has been entertained. She lives in a small house in a small neighborhood with a larger than life fiancé and one cat.
18+ ONLY due to mature themes, and matter.
Infringed featuring Alzerro King, and Bree King from Indebted and Inevitable.
J.L. Beck is the best selling author of numerous books including
Indebted, Inevitable, Invincible, and The Bittersweet Series. She’s best
known for weaving a tale, that ends with your mouth hanging open, and
your hands gripping the edge of your seat.
She’s a no holds bar
author who enjoys spending time with her husband of seven years, three
year old hellion, and Hatchi the fur baby. She calls Wisconsin home, but
loves to travel. In her free time you can catch her watching bad
reality tv, cooking, reading books, or spending time outdoors.
Follow her to see what wicked adventures she’s up too…
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Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)
“My name’s Jag Steele. I’m the lead singer and guitarist to the band Pandemic Sorrow, and I have a drug problem. Well, I mean it’s not really a problem – unless you count the fact that I almost made my heart explode from all the blow I shoved up my nose a few weeks back…”
That was my introduction during my first stint in rehab. I’m messed up. If you asked anybody who I am there’s a list they will go down: Famous, rock star, legend, drug addict, womanizing man-whore, but if you asked me, I wouldn’t have the first idea of what to say, because I don’t know who Jag Steele is. Really, I’m living every other damn person’s dream, and all I want is reality.
Roxy Slade, that girl was my reality. My brutally flawed and beautifully broken reality. And she hated everything I stood for. To her I was just one of “those guys”, and she’d rather be buried alive with poisonous snakes than give someone like me a piece of toilet paper to wipe their ass with. Brutal. Life. Is. Brutal. And it is just a giant pain, which is why I chase after anything to make it numb, anything that can fill this void. I just want anything that can make me not feel. I just don’t want to feel.
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1BxtOWs
The industry owns me. And the only thing I have a minuscule grain of control with is women, but not that dominate, tie you up and gag you kind of control. No, I want to govern how I make them feel. I need them to feel like a goddess while I’m in them, and I love being able to control the fact that they’ll never really have me. Love is complicated. It is bullshit. And even if I thought I needed it, the rules of being a rocker won’t allow it.
Sex is all I need.
I don’t need love.
But for some reason I want her. For some reason I can’t get her out of my mind. And lately, every time I’m with any girl besides her it feels wrong.
I can practically have any woman I want, but I can’t have her. She’s off limits because she’s part of that industry that owns my ass.
Sex was all I had.
And sometimes I thought maybe love was all I needed…with her
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1IqHz0t
Jag Steele, the lead singer of the international rock band Pandemic Sorrow, was the epitome of everything I despised: arrogant, entitled, but the thing I hated most about him was that he was an addict. Drugs had been the demon that had ruined everything in my life, and anyone who had a love affair with them pretty much made my stomach turn. It brought up memories I wanted to stay buried. Needless to say, I wasn’t exactly a fan of Jag.
Funny thing is, people aren’t always who you expect them to be. Never in a million years would I have thought the night I meet Jag would have any significance on the rest of my life, but it did.
I found out that sometimes something that screams utter destruction might actually be your saving grace.
Some people may say our story is too screwed up to be a romance, but for two broken people, we made the pieces fit together perfectly.
Pandemic Sorrow Series (Jag, Rush, & Roxy 3-in-1)
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. The life of a rocker is gritty, and for the boys of Pandemic Sorrow, it’s exhausting. Their existence is one of sleepless nights, binges with drugs, and the daunting task of pleasing women…lots and lots of women. Life is one endless party, and for both Jag and Rush, it’s a path of utter self-destruction.
Warning: Jag and Rush are from a male point of view, and are very…male. They are vulgar and explicit and may have to work their way through a few fans before they find a woman who can tame these rocker’s inner whore. All books contain explicit language and sexual situations.
Meet the Author
Book Title: Finding Us (A Nucci Securities Novel)
Author: Debra Presley
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: July 31, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
Pop star Abby Murphy is living every girl’s dream. She has fame, fortune, and a handsome boyfriend, a guitar player named Sean. That changes the night she finds him in the arms of another woman. Hurt and betrayed, Abby ends their relationship. But Sean won’t accept the breakup, and she soon learns that he’s had a hidden agenda all along. Overnight, Sean transforms from loving boyfriend to dangerous adversary, and Abby no longer knows who she can trust among her friends and family.
Abby turns to her bodyguard, Danny Nucci, a man who will do everything in his power to keep her safe. But when Abby realizes her feelings for Danny run much deeper than she thought, she refuses to give in to her attraction in order to preserve her new found independence as well as protect Danny from Sean’s machinations.
When Abby finally finds the strength to reclaim her life and acknowledge her growing love for Danny, will she be able to let him in? And will Danny be able to overcome his own demons to be the man she needs him to be? Or will she be forced to let him go forever?
©2015 Debra Presley
The sun rose, and the rays seeped through the windows of the hotel suite. The brightness woke Danny before his alarm. He grabbed his phone to check the time a moment before his alarm starting blaring.
“Fuck.” He pressed snooze and stretched lazily. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone in the chair across from him. His body and mind were in action, assessing the threat, before he realized that is was Abby. At some point while he’d slept, she’d moved from the bedroom to the chair. She was wrapped in the blanket from his bed, snoring lightly. Her head was tilted to the side, resting on a small accent pillow, and her feet hung over the edge. She looked utterly adorable, and Danny hesitated to wake her. After last night, she needed the rest, and he had work to do before they were scheduled to be on the bus. He’d let her sleep a while longer.
He decided to deal with Vivien first and dialed her number as he walked into the bedroom.
“Mr. Nucci,” she answered. He wanted to roll his eyes every time she called him “Mr. Nucci.” Everyone in Abby’s entourage was informal except her. Danny tried to avoid dealing with Vivien. She and Abby had a complicated relationship that he tried to stay out of. It wasn’t his business, and as long as it didn’t affect Abby’s safety, he didn’t need to weigh in. Abby had hinted at a troubled home life when she was younger, but she’d never really shared that part of her life with him.
“Vivien, I’m not sure if you’re aware of what happened last night, but—”
“I’m well aware of my daughter’s impulsiveness.”
Danny held his tongue. Vivien hated to hear about problems. She just wanted them to go away.
“I think we need to discuss this situation.”
“What’s there to discuss? Abigail knows what’s expected of her.”
“That’s between you and Abby. I’m here to keep her safe, and last night she was assaulted. That warrants a conversation.”
“I don’t agree, but if you insist, we can meet for a few minutes this morning. I’ll have my assistant call you with a time.” She hung up the phone before Danny could say anything else.
He stared at Abby sleeping in the other room. If he wanted to prep her for their meeting, he needed to wake her now. Danny returned to the living room.
“Abby,” he whispered and sat next to her on the ottoman. He shook her gently. Nothing. She didn’t even stir. He watched her sleep for a moment then leaned over to gently push her champagne-colored hair away from her face. He took in her fair complexion sprinkled lightly with freckles and then abruptly stood. He needed to stop before his thoughts got the better of him. The last thing he needed was for Abby to see how much she affected him.
He worked hard at keeping things professional because he knew all too well what happened when he cared too much for someone. Since Vanessa, Danny hadn’t allowed himself to get close to any woman, and he still wasn’t ready to take that step. Shit, last night he nearly lost it when he saw Sean with Abby. It brought up too many memories that hit too close to home. He failed when it came to Vanessa; he wasn’t going to let anything cloud his judgment this time.
He watched Abby resting soundly, but he couldn’t stop thinking of his fiancé. He blamed himself for her death. And at the time, it nearly destroyed him.
Their tour of duty in Iraq had been tense, and his mind was on other things. He missed the signs that something was wrong, and after she died, nothing anyone said could convince him that he wasn’t responsible. Not only were they engaged, but she was also a fellow soldier who he’d worked with since boot camp. They’d served side-by-side, both sergeants in the Psychological Operations unit, commonly known as Psy-Ops.
“Abby.” He said her name louder but didn’t touch her this time. Abby said something in her sleep, but he had no idea what. Danny chuckled because, really, she was just too adorable.
“Come on sleepyhead; you have to wake up,” he coaxed.
“Go away.” She gathered the blanket closer to her body.
“I can’t. It’s time to get up. Let’s go.” He pulled at the blanket and saw that she was only wearing the T-shirt he gave her last night. He stared. Her legs were smooth and sexy, and there was a hint of her purple lace panties peeking out. Danny threw the blanket over Abby and stood quickly. He worked for Abby. He didn’t need images of her half naked in his brain.
He walked behind the chair. Distance was a must right now. His phone alarm sang “Reveille” and instead of shutting it off, he increased the volume and placed it by Abby’s ear.
She jumped, causing the ottoman to shift forward. Danny laughed at her expression but stopped when she lost her balance and fell to the floor. Like a scene from a sitcom, she landed on her ass, with her legs up in the air. Abby quickly covered herself with the blanket.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Screw you, Nucci.” She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Now help me up, asshole.”
Danny helped her stand, mindful of her bruised arm. The blanket fell to the floor, leaving Abby in his old New York Yankees T-shirt. Even though he knew what to expect this time, the sight was too much to ignore. He tried to avert his eyes but failed.
Abby laughed and walked slowly into the bedroom, shaking her sexy ass. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower. Can you get my suitcase or do you have another one of these I could wear?” Abby flipped up the end of Danny’s shirt, giving Danny an eye full.
“I’ll get your clothes.” Danny sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He was clearly off his game.
“Thanks.” Abby winked and laughed even louder. She closed the door and left him standing in the living room with his mouth hanging open. Holy shit. His mind raced with all the things he wanted to do to her, and he was thankful for the reprieve. He grabbed the keycard to Abby’s room and left to go get her things.
Debra is a native New Yorker who made her escape to the suburbs. She often returns to her hometown to visit her favorite deli for a bagel with butter, because there’s no better bagel than a New York bagel. When not in search of bagels, Debra spends her time running Book Enthusiast Promotions, an online promotions company that helps indie authors spread the word about their books. She’s also the owner of The Book Enthusiast blog. She started writing lyrics in her wall-to-wall NKOTB bedroom at the tender age of thirteen while dreaming of the day she’d become Mrs. Jordan Knight. That dream never came to fruition, but she has continued to write. Now she’s working on her first novel.
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This time last week. . . My news feed has been full of those words today and it reminded me that I still had to write up my ‘review’ of the Second City Signing that took place in Birmingham last weekend. The reason for the delay? Writing this means it’s truly over and I wanted to ride the buzz for as long as possible.
So, this time last week, what was I doing? Officially, I was there as assistant to M.B. Feeney, unofficially I was fangirling over awesome authors and, don’t judge me, I was most definitely drooling over the beauties from Uncovered Models. I was in awe of Cassie and her volunteers for getting everything organised and I was ready for some serious literary fun.
This time last week we had arrived early, beating the big yellow fun bus and had already laid out the swag and what nots that my lovely author had with her and we were waiting patiently for the first to arrive. Compared to some of the authors I’ve spoken to since, I think M.B. Feeney was perhaps the least stressed of them all, which of course left us time for photos and selfies galore.
And so, this time last week was when I abandoned my author for the first time. I was shocking as an assistant, spending more time gathering swag for the blog than actually assisting my author. It was my first time at an event like this and I really could have done with another hour or two so I could have spoken to all the authors properly, rather than doing a quick grab and go with my swag and shooting a quick selfie on the way last! I vanished to go round the Legends Lounge first. The biggest room on the day, and playing host to some super authors, to say I was excited was beyond stupid, I was ecstatic to meet some of the authors I had been speaking to on Facebook, or arranged promo events for, in the flesh. And it did not disappoint. I talked, I joked, I collected swag, it all seemed to be going fab. Cue a quick bit of ‘assistant’ work when I returned to the table. . .
Being the dreadful assistant I was on the day, I abandoned my author once more to take a stroll to the Boardroom where I met yet more awesome authors and collected more swag. Do you see the theme of my day? This room had a completely different feel to it, being smaller and more intimate, it felt like a calming influence after the crazy buzz in the Legends Lounge. After doing my networking and finally meeting Nicola C. Priest (I’ve been talking to this lovely for months, the bug was SO needed!) I had to do my assistant bit and return to check on my author. Good job too, by this point she’d nearly cleared out of swag and was in definite need of a quick break.
As time ticked on, I began to get anxious I wouldn’t get around the two rooms upstairs. After refreshments provided by the fabulous volunteers I decided to make a break for it, and boy was I glad I did. There was a definite buzz upstairs, different again from that of the other two rooms, but awesome all the same. I’ll apologise now for being an idiot and not remembering the names of these rooms, but they were fabulous all the same. More authors, more swag, more fun. Apologies to those of you who I kind of just grabbed swag and photos and ran from, it was nothing personal, but I was on a mission by this point to get M.B. Feeney’s photo book signed, and collect all of my swag packs too. Of course, I did get distracted by the models and spent a little while longer in that room. Don’t judge me though, they were stunning, and a girl has to appreciate beauty like that! My only regret here was not getting in the middle of them and having a photo, but never fear, I’ll make a beeline for you at the next event!
Heading back downstairs, I assisted my author more sensibly for the last hour or so, taking photos with readers, encouraging people to buy her books and just generally doing what I could to be a hand. When we started packing up for the day, I had a strange feeling of sadness and excitement. I was sad the whole signing part of the day was over, but I was excited to see these authors get their groove on. And it was then that the night really started, with road trips in Birmingham, food and getting ready in a hotel room and then walking down Broad Street with Pochahontas, Veruca Salt, Tris and me, Daisy Duke, to find a McDonald’s that didn’t exist. Finally fed and watered, we headed for the party, and it was AWESOME. We danced, we sang, we got all hot and sweaty throwing some serious shapes on the dance floor and we people watched for hours – I have so many character ideas now, so thanks guys and gals! I remember dancing the last dance and thinking, ‘why does this day have to end?’ But end it did, and it was phenomenal.
This time last week was my first author signing, and I had my cherry popped in the best way possible.
This time last week I met so many wonderful people and I can’t wait to get to know them all better.
This time last week I was buzzing with energy and love for this crazy literary world, and the buzz stayed for days after.
This time last week I was surrounded by some of the most talented, beautiful and friendly people you could ever hope to meet.
This time last week was AWESOME.
So, when are we doing it again?