Title: Dirty Love
Author: Kimberly Blalock
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 25, 2016
In the light of darkness is an undeniable need to run, disappear, slither away only barely scraping by with hope that maybe just maybe, there's a way of escape.
My name is Oliva Basari. I escaped one hell only to be trapped inside another, darkness and fear seething through my veins and invading my every thought.
A new city, a new job, a new persona and then.... I fell in lust, I fell in love…hell, I just fell.
From the darkness my alter ego became real, I was Tess, the stirring of someone or something else burning in my gut until she was all there was.
I didn't fear what would happen if remorse knocked on my door nor did I fear the lustful way I stalked them, preyed upon them—the ones that couldn't have me, the ones who wished they could taste me—I was their darkness until I met one very tall, dark, and forbiddingly handsome Mr. Black. He hated me watching with darkness in his tormented eyes. He scared me, intimidated me, and left me questioning my own sanity.
Until he didn't.
He was the one thing I let myself submit too, his touch, the way he slid his knuckles across my flesh, igniting a dangerous spark inside of me.
In the end, we're all captured souls waiting for release or the escape from our own maniacal thoughts.
In the end, we are all prisoners of the flesh.
She slept with blankets slipping from her taut body. I inhaled deeply as my dick ached to be inside of her tight pussy. I didn’t actually know what her pussy felt like… Was it soft, delectable, electric, and glorious? I imagined all of those possibilities and intended on finding out soon, but I wasn’t ready yet. I needed her to come to me. To beg me for it before I could give her everything that I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I slid my hand inside of my nightstand drawer retrieving the lube I’d used on the woman the night before. They were covetous, egocentric, and contemptuous. Nothing that interested me. It rather disinterested me, actually. Olivia was the exact opposite of those women, a contradiction of everything they stood for.
I unbuttoned my jeans and sagged against the chair that had the best view of her bed. Of course, I’d arranged it that way. Her ass was so fucking perfectly round, tight, and juicy. Nothing could possibly be as good as that ass. I was sure of it, and I intended on finding out soon enough.
I pulled my pants down to lay across my thick thighs and untucked my cock from my briefs. The slippery lube slid out of the bottle and melted against my heated hand. Her body shifted slowly as my hand dipped against my flesh. I stilled, waiting to see if she’d wake up this time. She’d been on edge lately, not sleeping well. It’d been pretty fucking obvious she’d been having a difficult time with something. I shrugged off the thought. I’d wanted to fix whatever was wrong, comfort her, fuck her until her problems were mere memories from a past before me or very thin memories that popped like bubbles do in the sunlight. But I’d remain a circumspect observer, for now.
Her body turned just as my hand landed on my hot, thick, pulsing cock. I squeezed, gripping the skin down my shaft… hard. A deep-seated moan reverberated from my throat. It felt so fucking relishable… gratifying. My cock jerked from the sensations it was experiencing. Her tits bounced into position… the position of foreplay among lovers. Nipples hard and round, perky and wanting, waiting for my tongue to flick across the hardened flesh in heated arousal. She adjusted from her stomach to her back, completing her task in search of comfort. Ironic really, that here at this moment she’d seemed extroverted, willing to be free when in reality she was demure. Well, unless she was dancing, but that was only a few hours a night. And I wouldn’t allow myself that opening to taste her flesh. Not yet.
“Ah fuck!” I moaned, the sound feral. I lived alone, and no one could hear me and fuck it if they could, I didn’t care.
My strokes became tight, stroking the entire length of my cock. Cum slipped out of the head as I smothered the silkiness of my arousal across the thin, sensitive flesh. I jacked off to her perfect fucking body.
Her hand crossed her chest, and I imagined she was touching herself there while I licked her pussy, sweeping my tongue against the nub bringing her to ecstasy.
I’d dreamt about that for a long fucking time. One year to be exact. She’d moved into the apartment across from mine with her friend. Her boyfriend moved in just a few months later. Fucking asshole is never there, and he fucks like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Probably doesn’t, to be honest. Little prick has a small ass cock, too. If he came even a tiny bit close to getting her off, I’d rock her fucking world. When I finally take her in every way imaginable, I will do just that.
My strokes became shorter, tighter, faster as I watched her tight body. I imagined her full lips wrapped around my cock sucking hard, harder. Her tongue would flick across the head lapping up my cum into her hot mouth; she’d smile as she squeezed me roughly, begging for more of me to seep into her mouth. She’d suck me the hardest I’d ever been sucked.
“Oh fuck!” Cum shot from the head of my dick. “Fucking shit, Olivia!” I yelled her name as I pulsed against my palm.
Just as I cleaned myself, her jackoff boyfriend arrived stripping his clothes off as he snuck into bed like a predator, opening his mouth ready to take her. My fists slammed into the wall next to the window. It left a large, round hole that I’d deal with later.
My mind raced. I wanted to go over to her apartment and rip him out of her bed. I wanted to kill him. If he didn’t get a fucking clue, I was going to do just that. And soon!
I got plenty of pussy. Shit, where I worked, it was thrown at my cock in groves, but I wanted Olivia Basari. Only Olivia. When I fucked someone, she was the only face I saw. Her sweet lips sucking me off until I came in her sweet fuckable mouth.
Convenient for me, I’d get to see that face and body every day and night. She was a dancer at Epic, the strip club I owned. She worked for me, but it wasn’t enough. I want to own every inch of her. I’ve kept my thoughts to myself. No one knew how I felt, and they sure as fuck didn’t know the malevolent thoughts that infiltrated my mind. Funny really, infiltrate makes it sound as though I didn’t want the thoughts there. As though I’d set up a road block of sorts keeping them away, but in fact, I’d caressed every single one of them. I lured them in with the tips of my fingers promising jewels of satisfaction.
I watched her from the two-way window in my office while she danced for the scum of the city. I pretended that she was dancing exclusively for me. I fucked while I watched her from that window. The girls didn’t have a clue what I was doing when I had them bent over gripping their flesh into my hands. All they wanted was the orgasm they’d get whether I tried to give it or not. Sometimes I did. I loved pussy. It was only Olivia’s I was thinking of when I sucked on their clits, however. Slipping my fingers inside their wet, dripping, pulsating pussies brought cry after cry from their dirty mouths.
I stripped my clothes and showered. I’d see her at work in an hour. I couldn’t watch that fucker touch her any longer.
Kimberly is an International Bestselling author and has been writing since she was a young girl growing up in Kansas City, Mo. Reading and writing have always been a big part of her life. She enjoys the world she can get lost in while reading a good book. A wife and mother to four beautiful children she decided she wasn’t busy enough. She spent some time chasing down fugitives as a bounty hunter then laid down her handcuffs and finished her college degree in nursing.
Kimberly loves discovering new music to jam out to and loves anything that’s different. Her many interests include Google, you heard it! Google. If you need to know any unusual or interesting fact she has searched it and can recite it. Her motto is: Why be the same as everyone else when you can stand out?
When Kimberly isn’t writing she is playing superhero for her children.
Title: The Ragged People
Series: Arden St. John #2
Author: Lucy Fenton
Genre: Paranormal YA
Release Date: October 31, 2016
Arden St John – teenager, witch and embodiment of chaos - is back.
The new school year starts with her surrounded by friends and her boyfriend, Nick, all of them happy and out from under the shadow of Georgia, who now lurks on the edges, friendless and powerless.
But there is something in the shadows. It is looking for Arden and it’s not the only one.
There are many who want to use Arden, some of them more dangerous than the vampires who want her life.
Even those protecting her want something from her, more than she is willing to give.
Still determined to stop the vampires’ trade, Arden had to choose between staying safe or embracing her terrifying power. When she finally unleashes the power within her, the consequences are more than she could imagine.
As more secrets are revealed, a price must be paid for the truth. Powerful but vulnerable, Arden must suffer through betrayal, love and acceptance as her story continues.
“I need you to help me.” It could have sounded like a request but it came out as a demand.
“I don’t have to do anything.” Arden shut her locker with a bang and turning, started to walk in a wide circle around Georgia who was standing in her way.
Georgia matched her, stepping directly into her path. “You took away my power and now my father is going to sell me to an old man. You owe it to me. Stop him or give me back my power,” she hissed, her voice low to prevent them being overheard.
Arden averted her eyes to the ceiling, fighting the urge to throw the book in her hand at Georgia’s head. “First of all, it wasn’t yours. You stole if from the last person who tried to help you. Second of all, I don’t have your power so I couldn’t give it back even if I wanted to.” Arden retorted, part of her wondering why she was even engaging.
“Elizabeth wasn’t trying to help.”
Arden could feel a headache coming on. “Yes, she was. She would have run away with you and protected you.”
“You don’t know that.” Georgia sounded less certain.
“Actually, I do know that. When she took over my body, I saw everything, including you pushing her off the cliff. I know you made a deal with the water sprites to kill her in exchange for her power.”
Georgia blanched but held her nerve.
“You can’t prove anything.”
Arden ground her teeth. “I don’t need to prove anything. I also don’t need to help you. Frankly you’re getting what you deserve.” Arden started walking faster, but Georgia kept pace with her.
“So you only want to help the kids sold to vampires, but not anyone else?” Georgia hissed.
Arden slowed and faced her former tormentor. “Look, I’m not in favour of anyone being sold for any reason, but you tried to kill me several times. You also enslaved Nick and everyone else at school. Why on Earth would I do anything to help you? You’re a horrible person.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“Which bit?” Arden snorted.
“Any of it.”
“How do you figure that?” Arden was so astonished at Georgia’s complete lack of remorse that she stopped dead.
“You don’t understand what it was like to grow up, always being compared to Elizabeth,” she spat.
Arden pointed her finger at Georgia. “You grew up in a comfortable house, you were fed and clothed. No one abused you. What exactly are you complaining about?”
“No one ever loved me.” Georgia crossed her arms and glared at Arden.
“Except Elizabeth, who you murdered.” Arden rolled her eyes and moved to go around her. The girl is completely deranged, she thought. And psychotic. Never forget, psychotic.
“If you let me be sold, then you’re the same as me.” Georgia’s face twisted into a snarl, making Arden glad Georgia had no power behind it.
“I could never be as bad as you, and I’m supposed to be the product of several generations of evil,” Arden muttered over her shoulder as she entered the lab.
“I hope you rot in hell!” Georgia shouted from the doorway.
“See you there then,” Arden replied dryly.
Lying on Sophie’s bed, Arden tossed a blue stress ball into the air before catching it again.
“Sophie, should I help Georgia?” Arden asked, holding onto the ball and looking over at her friend who sat trawling through her numerous social media pages.
“Help Georgia!” Sophie exclaimed, turning around to stare at Arden. “What?”
Arden filled her in on the details of her run in with Georgia, wondering why these things stuck with her. I wish I could just forget about it, instead replaying it over and over, making me constantly second guess myself. She thought she was right to say no, but if she was, why did it continue to weigh on her?
Sophie threw her hands up in the air. “I have no idea. She’s a psychopath but aren’t we against selling people?”
“In general, yes. But if she went away then we wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore,” Arden said, looking hopeful.
“Someone else would have to though.”
“Maybe they’ll be better at managing her. She might improve,” Arden argued.
Sophie’s eyebrows rose, crinkling her forehead. “Or she could get worse. She killed her twin sister and no one’s even tried to take her to task on it. I think she needs some serious therapy but there’s no way to make her get help.”
“What if I offered to help in exchange for her getting treatment?” Arden frowned, thinking hard.
“How would you enforce it?”
“I don’t know.” Arden shrugged. “I wish I had a therapist I could talk to about it but mine is dead. I probably killed her, though she was a vampire and I was a mindless killer at the time, so I don’t know for sure.” She tilted her head, reflecting on what she had just said. “Hmm... that doesn’t sound so good. Maybe I should get a therapist as well?”
“Yeah, of course it doesn’t sound good when I say it like that. Killing vampires doesn’t count though.”
Arden paused, considering.
“Am I a bad person if I kind of want her to be sold as a slave to an old guy?”
“Of course not. A bad person would never even ask that question. Wanting vengeance is natural.”
“But we’re against selling people, right?”
“Unfortunately, yes we are.” Sophie nodded, sadly.
“Even psychotic ones who deserve it?” Arden asked.
“I think it’s one of those blanket rule deals.”
“So if there aren’t any exceptions that means I’m going to have to help her.” Arden’s mouth twisted in disgust. The thought of helping Georgia left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Ugh,” Sophie agreed. “There’s something so wrong with that.”
“Aren’t I supposed to be evil? Evil people don’t save people, especially ones they don’t like.” Arden threw the ball up in the air and caught it again.
“Well if it ever comes down to a decision for you, you know, on whether to turn evil like your real mother or not, you can put that in the “pro” column.”
Lucy Fenton lives in Sydney, Australia with her husband and two children. In addition to writing novels, she works as a freelance copywriter and pens occasional articles for various online magazines.
Not being one of those people who had a burning desire to be anything in particular, Lucy worked her way alphabetically backwards through the available degrees at Sydney University. Surprisingly, given the amount of fun she had at school, she finally managed to graduate with a completely unemployable degree in Philosophy. A Law degree soon followed, however, simply to make it possible for some organization to hire her.
After ten soul-destroying years wandering aimlessly in the corporate wilderness, she threw it all in and reassessed. Deciding to bring the "one day I will write a book" idea to the present, she started and hasn't stopped. As a huge fan of the books in general, she writes the kinds of books that she enjoys to read.
In her spare time, Lucy Fenton...actually she has no spare time. She sleeps or reads copious amounts of novels instead of sleeping.
Author: Kristen Luciani & Rebecca Manuel
Genre: New Adult Rocker Romance
Release Date: October 31, 2016
Sexy rock god Daxton Cole has everything… and nothing that can bring him peace.
Music, whiskey, pills, parades of silicone-enhanced groupies keeping his bed warm at any given time… none of it soothes his wounded soul. The demons always win.
His life is a toxic existence on a permanent loop, like a bad 80s movie.
Sara Russell, the junior publicist hired to salvage his tarnished image, plows into him. Innocent, naïve, and pure, she’s the only one who can piece together what has long been shattered.
But sometimes, when you’re so broken, it’s impossible to become whole again.
And even more impossible to save anyone else.
99c for 3 days only!!!
AMAZON US / UK
B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS
“Dax, where the hell are you going?” Finn’s question was followed by a yawn so loud, it could have woken the inhabitants of the neighboring buses. “We have sound check in an hour.”
Daxton ran a hand through his tousled, gel-crunched hair and pulled on a Houston Astros baseball cap. “I’m going for a run.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak that language. Come again?”
“I need to clear my head, okay? Buy me some time. I’ll be back.”
“Since when do you run? Don’t you want to get breakfast instead? Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, home fries, coffee?”
“Look, it was a shitty night. I need to get out for a while. Alone.”
“Dude, Merrick is gonna—“
“He’ll deal. I’ll see you later.”
Daxton slid open the tour bus door, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. Nobody in sight. Great, he finally had a chance to escape the questions he couldn’t answer, questions he didn’t even want to acknowledge.
The sun peeked over the clouds as he sank into a hamstring stretch. His muscles were so tight, just like the knot that had taken up residence at the base of his skull. Ironic. Excessive booze normally had the opposite effect. And he’d pretty much drank himself sober after last night’s debacle. How the hell had that guy gotten so close?
He rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to relieve the knot. “Dammit!”
That raspy voice made him jump about twenty feet into the air. Christ, did she know how sexy her voice sounded in the morning? He’d love to hear it waking him up after a very sleepless night infused with lots of carnal pleasures. Oh, fuck yeah.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sara twirled her ponytail around her index finger, a sleepy smile on her face. The soft morning light danced atop her head, half-hooded green eyes making his cock twitch. Shit, even at this ungodly hour of the morning?
“I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”
“Thought you’d escape unnoticed, huh?” Sara smirked. “I’m going for a run. Figured it was my only chance for some peace and quiet before Merrick assigns me his list of errands for the day.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes raked over the curves poured into hot pink spandex, mind unable to formulate a thought beyond peeling her out of those constricting clothes. Immediately, if not sooner.
She grabbed her ankles one at a time, pulling each toward to her perfect ass, stretching her quads. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be by yourself, anyway.”
“So you’re gonna protect me?”
Her pink lips curled into a sly smile. “It’s my job. Now stop procrastinating and move.”
“You’re kind of pushy. Why can’t we ease into it? Nice and slow to start?”
“Nice and slow, huh? Kind of shocking. You don’t seem the type.”
He stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I was talking about running.“
“Sure you were.” She tightened her ponytail. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you sweat out all the alcohol.”
A slow trot increased in intensity much too quickly, and soon, they were circling the arena parking lot at full speed. Focus, focus, focus! His primary objective was not to collapse. A sidelong glance confirmed Sara had barely broken a sweat since they’d started. No words were exchanged, which was a good thing, since he couldn’t catch a single breath. A burning sensation erupted in the pit of his belly, spreading through his lungs, singeing his insides. His legs, now feeling more like Jell-O than actual limbs, were on the brink of revolution. Why didn’t he grab a bottle of water? Panting only made his mouth drier, as if it wasn’t already more arid than the Sahara at midday. Sweat drizzled into his eyes, blurring his vision. How many more times were they going to make this death loop?
Sara pivoted to face him, tiny beads of perspiration glistening along her hairline, the only sign she was exerting herself at all. Jogging backwards. Not even changing her gait. He was a step above pathetic – a very short step.
“How is it that you can’t even make it a mile without looking like you’re about to pass out?”
Great, he needed to speak now?
“It’s not like…I’m…Britney Spears…shaking my ass…all over the stage.” His calf muscles ached as his sneakers pounded the pavement. Bacon, egg, and cheese had been a very delicious alternative, and he opted out for this self-inflicted torture? “I play guitar…and sing…doesn’t require…cardio.” He mopped his face with the edge of the t-shirt. “How the hell…are you…able to do this? I don’t think…your boy…friend is…keeping you…up late…enough.”
Croaking out those last words nearly killed him, for multiple reasons.
“You should really consider traveling with an oxygen mask.” She flipped around, giving him a glimpse of her shapely backside, just about the only thing keeping him going. “And, just so you know, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
“Not your…boy—“ A sharp pain shot through his foot, stopping him mid-stride. “Ahh!” His body rocketed forward, arms flailing, sending him to the pebbly concrete lot with nothing to cushion the blow except his pride.
“Holy crap, are you okay?” Sara fell to the ground where he was writhing in agony, bits of pebble mashed into his skin. “Where does it hurt?”
He let out a loud groan and fell backward. “Fuck. Everywhere!”
“Do you think anything’s broken?” Her hand squeezed his and for the briefest of seconds, the presence of his very intense pain faded, replaced by Sara’s compassion, worry, and genuine concern. Somebody actually cared. That hadn’t happened in…shit, long enough that he couldn’t pinpoint an amount of time. It felt nice. Until the agony crashed over him again like a tsunami.
Sitting up was a struggle, but dammit, he was already hovering on the brink of being a complete and total pansy ass. Ignore the pain. Find out what happened with the boyfriend. Even a fall like that couldn’t quell his curiosity. He had to know, even if he was going to be in traction and unable to do anything about it for the foreseeable future.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
A look of shock flitted across Sara’s face, quickly followed by a snicker. “Wow. Your focus is impressive, even with four potentially broken limbs.” Her playful tone couldn’t mask her nerves, though. She toyed with her ponytail again, normally bright green eyes darkening. “I walked in to find Laney riding him like she was competing for the Triple Crown.”
“Horse racing fan?”
“Yeah, we have a horse farm back home. Raised several thoroughbreds. I always loved to ride.” She averted her eyes, but not before he caught a glimpse of what she’d been trying to shield.
“Minnesota.” She sat back on her heels, eyes still guarded. Conversation over. “So, what do you think? Are you able to hoof it back to the buses?”
“Eli is a fucking idiot.”
A slow smile brightened her flushed face. “Agreed.” She held out a hand. “Come on, let’s see if those legs still work.”
“Are you gonna carry me if they don’t?”
“You don’t pay me enough.”
Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet. “Christ, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.”
Sara snaked an arm around his waist, hoisting him against her. “Take it slow, okay? You said you liked that.”
The scent of citrus wafted into the air between them. So delicious, like a fruit salad. How could she still smell so good after that run? “Yeah...I figured you’d use that against me soon enough.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Looks like we have lots of time to kill before we make it back to camp. Shoot.”
“What happened last night? Who was the guy?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ How the hell did she even know?
”I’m sure your little groupies love the coy act, but I’ll pass.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Daxton, I’m part of your PR team. It’s my job to know everything that goes on during this tour. Sean from security told me someone approached you. I can’t do damage control without all the facts. Who was he, and what did he want? Or, maybe a better question might be what does he know?”
His face twisted into a grimace with each step. The buses weren’t even in sight. With any luck, they’d make it back by lunchtime. “You ever feel like you’re suffocating? That there’s air all around, but you just can’t breathe it in? Like your body resists what it needs to survive, and you feel like you’re constantly drowning? That’s how I feel most of the time. The air, everything around me – what people see, what they want to believe, judgments they make based on half-truths – it’s all toxic. Better not to inhale. The lesser of two evils, but either way, I’m fucked.”
She nodded, her hair tickling his shoulder. “I do know what you mean.” Her voice was soft, sad. There was something beneath that snarky exterior, something he was desperate to uncover, but her demeanor begged him not to press.
They walked for a few silent minutes that seemed to stretch into hours. He clenched and unclenched his fists as waves of pain assaulted his ankle. “Shit, that hurts.”
“I don’t think you should push it. Let me call Merrick.“
“No.” He stopped, teetering on one leg. “Please. Not yet. Can we just sit down for a minute?”
“Of course.” She eased him to the ground and sank onto the pavement. “Is there anything I can—?”
“The guy from last night said he knew my mother.” Daxton held his head, expelling a deep breath. “She disappeared after my brother died last year, without a trace. Without a warning. One day, she was there; the next, gone. With her clothes, car, jewelry. Everything…gone. My dad made a half-hearted attempt to find her, but I was too angry to try. I’d just lost my best friend, and my mother picked that time to bail. We should have been there for each other, but she didn’t care enough to even say goodbye.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sara grasped his hand. Her skin was so soft against his calloused fingers. It was an occupational hazard for a guitarist.
“I don’t want to have anything to do with her. She abandoned her family. Things between her and my dad were never great, but what the hell did I ever do to her?”
“So you had security get rid of him.”
“People always have an angle, Sara.” He raised his eyes to see the empathy reflected in her gaze. “I can’t trust anyone because everyone has an agenda. They want to know what I can do for them, how much I’ll pay to keep something from happening, what they can hold over my head in exchange for things they want. Even if this guy is telling the truth, I’m not willing to listen because nothing comes without a high price tag. Toxic. But the problem is, even though my body tries to protect me by resisting the urge to inhale the poison around me, I want to live, to be whole again, free from all this useless anger and resentment. I need to breathe.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I just can’t remember how.”
Kristen Luciani is a self-proclaimed momtrepreneur with a penchant for Christian Louboutins, Silicon Valley, plunging necklines and grapefruit martinis. As a deep-rooted romantic who prefers juicy drama to fill the lives of anyone other than her, she tried her hand at creating a world of enchantment, sensuality, and intrigue, finally uncovering her true passion. No pun intended…
Other Works by Kristen Luciani
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Rebecca Manuel, a.k.a. Becca the Bibliophile, is a lover of books, Fireball, Diet Dr. Pepper and Texas Trash Pie from Royers Roundtop Café. With a deep-rooted passion for the creative, she started the first independent short film company within the literary industry, charged with bringing book characters and plots to life via the Internet. She lives in Houston with her techie geek husband, two fabulous kids, and their menagerie of furry friends.