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Showing posts with label @BellaLoveWins. Show all posts
Showing posts with label @BellaLoveWins. Show all posts

Thursday, August 16, 2018

Ardent Prose PR Presents: Filthy Savage by Bella Love-Wins; #ReleaseDayBlitz, #NowAvailable, #OutNow, #Live











#NewRelease  #FilthySavage  #BellaLoveWins #SatansSaintsMC  #StandAlone 


I thought my demons were behind me... until my Angel showed up.

Axe
For years, I kept a savage hiding beneath the surface. All that time, it threatened to break out and unleash the storm of my past. But when our MC starts to evolve from outlaw arms dealer to a legitimate private protection and security company, my past can no longer stay buried.

Then Angel walks into my life, and all hell breaks loose.

She's a curvy, unassuming librarian. She's hot as hell and made just for me.

But can she handle a man like me? Is she ready for the ride of her life with a man standing in the eye of a storm that's heading right for us both?

Either way, she's going to be mine.


AUTHORS NOTE: Filthy Savage is the third standalone story in the Satan's Saints MC romance series. It's a wild, emotionally dark, and dangerous full length romance with a happily ever after ending. By popular demand, this story is an all-human MC spin on the book originally titled Bruised MC Bear by Bella Love-Wins. Each book in the series can be read in any order.


Axe

It took all of my willpower not to beat the living shit out of Dean fucking Roman. I probably would have, were it not for the fact that the man is used to being the alpha male in any room. Plus, touching a hair on his pretty little head will inevitably lead to more retribution between the Satan’s Saints and Mongols MC. I just wish I didn’t promise Silas that I’d stay out of trouble. The man got in my personal space, thinking he could threaten or scare me. And he stood too damn close to Angel. It took a lot of effort to walk away from her.
Fuck, how did two short conversations with this girl lead to such an insane level of possessiveness?
Which is why I stuck around outside the saloon like a lurker, waiting to make sure she left that bar in one piece.
“You again? Didn’t we do this all ready?” Angel asks, lowering her car window when I make it across the parking lot to her side.
“Nice to see you too,” I answer, smiling.
She turns off the engine and steps out of the car. She just stands there, her arms folded and her neck craned up, staring into my face. “Give me a good reason why I should entertain spending any more time with you. None of them can have anything to do with grinding on you, like you said in there, or my hands on your body, or my mouth, and vice versa. Go.”
Fuck.
She has a mouth on her.
I can’t believe how much I love it.
Arching my brows, I meet her gaze and absently lick my lips. The threat of backtalk in her eyes makes my skin hot all over. I lean forward an inch, and Angel’s breath hitches in her chest. She nervously lifts a hand into her gorgeous blonde tresses, trying to hide her reaction. Too late. I’ve already seen it. A split second of vulnerability.
“You know why,” I whisper.
Angel runs her tongue across her full bottom lip, and her eyes narrow. “We can keep playing this little game of yours, Axe,” she rasps out in a voice that’s fucking seductive. “But I’m going to tell you now, if you win, it’ll be on my terms. And that’s a big if, my friend. I’m not a woman to be pushed around. You need to be prepared for a fight.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. First of all, this is not a game. And second, the only fighting you’ll see is when I fight for you, not with you.”
Angel doesn’t have a fiery comeback to that. Her jaw relaxes and her lips part. I ease my fingertip down the line of her cheek as I wait for an answer.
She answers me, all right.
Loud and fucking clear.
“Fine,” she says, and I feel her tiny hands fly up to my chest. They skim down my abs, and lower, then she palms my groin through my jeans. Without breaking from my gaze, Angel bats her eyelids, giving me an innocent stare while her hand strokes my growing bulge. Damn, I underestimated this firecracker. As quickly as she starts, she removes her hand, turns, and ducks her head into the driver side window for a moment.
I enjoy the view of her thick, sweet ass while she gets whatever she’s looking for. When she straightens up, she throws the keys over to me.
“I hope you know I don’t do this often,” she says, walking around to the passenger side.
“Don’t do what exactly?”
“Take home strays,” she grins. “Try to keep up, will you? And by the way, I really love my car. Try not to drive it like a Harley.”
“I know exactly when to be gentle and when to be rough, sweet thing,” I tease. My cock throbs in my pants when her eyes flash with recognition of what I mean.
“Let me be the judge of that,” she murmurs. I’m about to walk around the front of the car to open her door, but she raises her hand to stop me. “I can manage opening my own door. You drive.”
I jump in and start the car, slowly easing it out of the parking spot in reverse. The second she clicks the seatbelt around her, I rev the engine and speed out from the gravel parking lot in her sedan.
“It’s not the Indy 500, buddy.”
“I’m starting to see that. Where are we off to?”
“My apartment is about eight blocks from where we met. Head to Desert Java and I’ll give you directions when we’re closer.”
“Sure.” I turn out to the main street and drive toward the highway. “So, you know Dean Roman pretty well, I see.”
“I do. His cousin is my best friend. We’ve known each other for years. How about you?”
I hesitate. Angel may think she knows Dean and his cousin, but I have no way to tell whether she knows how deep they are in the biker life. Or organized crime, for that matter. “Let’s just say we run in some of the same business circles.”
“Really? For a second back there, I thought you’d need a referee. No sane person would believe the two of you work together.”
“We don’t. We’re more like competitors in a boxing ring, except right now, we’re both in our respective corners, waiting for the referee to either call the win, or throw us back in for another round.”
“Interesting.”
I sense her breathing changing slightly. She’s more relaxed now, sinking back into the car’s leather bucket seats, her eyes closed, drifting off.
“Angel?” I call to her.
“Hmmm?” she hums.
“I’ll need your address pretty soon.”
“Oh, right.” She opens her eyes and straightens up, seeming more alert. “Take a right at the second side street up ahead. You can park on the street. You know, I never asked how you plan to get back on your bike tonight.”
“I figured you’d give me a ride back later on.”
“What if I can’t wake up until morning?”
“Waking up won’t be the problem, honey,” I answer, and she glances over at me with the cutest little grin on her face. “Walking may be, but not waking up. In fact, I may have to keep you up all night long, after what you just started back there.”
Angel lets out a moan on her exhale. “You’re really going all out with this.”
“You’re the one that started the hand job in the middle of that parking lot.”
“Park the car at the end of this street. All the way to the edge.”
“Is this where you live? Near a deserted corner?” I ask, coming to a stop. I let the engine run while waiting for her answer.
“No.” She hops out of the passenger side and walks around to my side, gesturing for me to lower the window. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to invite you into my home yet,” she admits.
“Honesty is good, but you’re no safer out here.”
Angel leans down to me, smiling as she rests an arm on the window. “I think you should leave it running.”
“I see.”
“Get out here.”
I step into the cooler night air, leaving the door open. Angel takes my hand, making slow steps backward until she’s leaning against the trunk of the car. She places my arms on either side of her, and runs her hands up my chest, locking them behind my neck.
“What is it about touching you that makes my fingertips so hot?” she asks, her light blue eyes staring up at me.
I shrug my shoulders, but am a lot less interested in talking at a time like this. I groan as Angel walks her fingers back down my chest, all the way to my belt buckle. She loosens it a bit and slides her hand down my jeans.
“Mmmm,” she moans, stroking my cock. “I should’ve guessed that you can back up all that arrogance with something…real.”
Groaning from her confident touch, my eyes fall closed and my hips rock into her hand job. Whatever she’s been thinking of doing out here, I can’t wait much longer to start. Gripping her waist, I lift her up to sit on the trunk lid, and part her legs. Dragging the hem of her skirt up to her hips, I nestle in between her thighs. Angel kicks off her pumps and wraps her legs around my hips. Her hands roam up to my neck again, fingers lacing up into my hair, lips only inches away from my chin. I can’t wait a second longer to taste that full, pouty mouth.
I tilt her chin up, slide my fingers to the back of her head, gripping a handful of hair. Angel’s breathing becomes ragged, and her eyes close as my lips cover her mouth for a hungry kiss. She tastes fucking delicious. Like honey on tap. I explore her mouth with my tongue, parting her legs wider. Running my other hand up her leg, I grip a handful of her ass. Fuck, I could explore every inch of her curves if we weren’t out in the open right now. My fingers trail up her inner thighs, not stopping at her lacy panties. She’s warm and wet, already pushing against my fingers to invite them inside of her.
As I slip past her panties and breach her folds with two fingers, she lets out a moan against my mouth. Fuck. She’s so fucking tight. I feel her fingernails dig into my back, and her breasts press against my chest, craving more contact. Sliding my fingers deeper only makes me want her more. And not out here. The further I go, the more she rocks her hips, her tight inner walls clenching my digits. All I can think of is burying my cock deep in her. I want to feel that hot, snug fit of her pussy all around my shaft. Putting my thumb to work, I flick her sensitive bud through the smooth fabric each time her hips roll. I can’t help but smile when Angel pulls from my kiss and presses her palms against the trunk of the car, gripping the seam of the opening as she rides my fingers and draws closer to her climax.
She’s grinding her hips, and I pump my fingers in and out of her, harder and deeper each time, spreading her and curving the tips of my fingers to reach her sweet spot. And when I do, her body goes wild. Her inner walls tighten, her body trembles, and a few seconds later, she grasps on to my biceps and whimpers through a powerful orgasm. After her movements settle down, I pull my fingers from her. Her eyes are on me when I reach my hand up to my mouth and suck both fingers clean. Tasting her sweet nectar threatens to strip away all my control, but I hold it together. I help her off the trunk, holding her body tight against mine until she can stand.
This is the longest Angel has gone without saying a word.
After a few minutes, she holds herself up and heads to the driver side.
“That was… you’ve got some skills. Real potential,” she mutters as I open her door.
“Thanks, I think.” I close the door once she’s inside. “Can you make it home on your own?” I ask. “I’d prefer to walk you to your front door.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine,” she tells me, sounding winded and still wrapped up in all that pleasure I gave her. “How are you going to get back to your bike?”
“I’ll make it just fine.”
Her brows furrow with worry. “I don’t feel right leaving you like this. It’s at least a few miles to the saloon.”
“Don’t you worry about me. Have a good night, Angel,” I say to her and turning to leave on foot.
The walk will do me good. Which is perfect because the way I see it, I have her exactly where I want her. She’s already craving more, and probably wondering what kind of iron will I have, leaving without the benefit of at least one good orgasm.
For now, I’ll let her cool off and get her head back on straight.








I'm a Wall Street Journal (Begging for Bad Boys, April, 2017) and USA Today (Begging for Bad Boys, Alpha for the Holidays, Shifters in the Snow: Bundle of Joy, Shifters in the Shadows) Bestselling Author.

I love reading and writing steamy, high-action romance stories about firefighters, billionaires, and alpha males who know what they want and aren't afraid of laying claim to the women who catch their interest. I love a happy ever after ending. I enjoy reading, hiking, the countryside, and traveling to destinations unspoiled by commercial tourism, like Las Vegas... :)

Like so many characters in my novels, I enjoy action, romance and unexpected love connections that take your breath away. For the next while, you'll find me plotting and writing about my latest stories on my Macbook.









Friday, July 6, 2018

Ardent Prose PR Presents: Wolf by Bella Love-Wins; #ExcerptReveal, #NowAvailable, #OutNow





#NewRelease  #Wolf  #BellaLoveWins #TallDarkDangerousSeries  #Book2



I found her so she's mine.
Thorne Pierce
They call me the Hunter;
A cold-hearted predator with the killer instinct.
A deadly threat to anyone who becomes my prey.

I'm pulled off of an existing job to watch a new target and her grandmother until I'm issued the order. I see her for the first time from the edge of the woods. Rose Adams. Silky red hair flowing down past her waist, soft curves, a sassy mouth, and that body that's made for sin.

I tell myself shes just another target, but I'm dead wrong.
Little Red beats me at my own game.
She sets her sights on me and everything changes.
I shouldn't feel a thing. Haven't for years.
But I do.

When it's time to finish the job, I take her and we run.
Forget the rules; I'm going to follow the only law that matters.
The law of the wild: Possess my prey.



*Author's Note: Wolf is a Standalone Romance with a guaranteed HEA ending and no Cliffhanger. Each story in the Tall, Dark and Dangerous Series can be read in any order.









Epigraph - Rose

Once upon a time, my life was a fairytale. I had parents who adored me and everything I could ever dream of.
Then, at the age of seven, my world ended.
They murdered my parents in front of my eyes, and I learned that fairytales are only in storybooks.
What I witnessed hardened me. What I saw taught me that to survive in this world, I needed a different skill set from little girls who played with dolls, dated cute boys, and went to college to prepare for their white picket fence lives.
It also built an impenetrable wall of hatred around my heart that only my grandmother’s love could breach.
After I turn twenty, they send someone to keep tabs on me and my grandmother. Probably to finish the job because I was a loose end on their books. I sense him before I see him, and soon, while he’s spying on me, little does he know that I am looking right back at him.
From a distance, my big, bearded, beautiful predator is elusive and evasive. He’s utterly dark and dangerous. A heartless, violent yet gorgeous curiosity that I can’t stop thinking about.
Then, one day, we come face to face and everything changes.



Prologue - Rose


“How the fuck did you find me, little girl?” my tall, dark and dangerous stalker says from his spot at the large bay windows, his voice threatening.
I don’t answer him when he turns to face me. All I do is take him in. The setting sun creates a menacing silhouette of his body as light floods in with hues of gold, orange, and purple. He’s gigantic. He must be close to six feet five inches tall. His broad, muscular frame has a leanness to it. It’s not quite a runner’s build, but I can tell from the fit of his clothes that he has a rigid workout routine.
I scan his body from up in his thick, jet black hair, all the way down to his dark, polished military boots. On instinct, I know to assume that a man like him is packing hidden weapons, but a thorough visual inspection can’t hurt. I can’t help but appreciate what I see in front of me. From his spot at the bay window, the sunset hits his face at an angle, and the flecks of his eyes start to sparkle like diamonds.
Then I notice that he’s doing his own search of my body. His brows raise as he checks me out from top to bottom. Not that he needs to. That camera he’s been using to watch me has a telescopic lens that can probably pick up the finest freckles on my nose and cheekbones. I’m sure he’s seen a lot. Still, that predatory expression in his eyes makes me feel like he’s looking through me, beyond my clothes and possible weapons, beyond my hardened heart, straight to my soul. Heat washes over me under his gaze. My pulse jumps, and I glance away from his face briefly to catch my breath.
Continuing my appraisal, his dark gray muscle shirt and black casual pants show the sharp lines of his fit body. There are no tattoos visible on his body, but I find myself wondering whether he has some elsewhere. I have no reason to, other than the fact that he looks like the kind of man who’d have one or two. His chest perhaps, or maybe something that takes up his entire back. I’d kind of like to find out first hand… if he doesn’t try to kill me first. Or vice versa.
I take one step backward, and that’s all it takes for him to react. He storms over to me, taking surprisingly light, ground-eating steps from the window that served as his perch to spy on me for the last week or longer.
He’s ready to attack.
But I’m ready too.
When his large, callused hand grips my upper arm, my other hand is quickly up at his collarbone. I angle my wrist, and a wave of satisfaction washes over me when my Bowie knife is less than an inch from his throat. But he’s just as quick as I am. I feel the hard steel of a handgun pressing on my ribs. I’m not afraid, though. Everybody dies, eventually. Plus, my odds are promising. I can slice his jugular in about the same amount of time it’ll take for him to let off a round from his gun. Maybe less. Except, keeping a knife at this particular man’s throat will take a hell of a lot of extra effort for me. He’s way over six feet tall, eclipsing my five-foot-one height by a huge margin. I may be small, but I won’t be intimidated. Years of mixed martial arts training, daily practice, and this knife are on my side.
“Who are you and why have you been watching me?” I demand.
He moves forward slightly, ignoring my sharp blade when it touches his skin. “It’ll take a lot more than a tiny pigsticker to scare me, Little Red,” his voice rumbles at me.
I’m not too impressed that he assumes he can call me Little Red. It’s a pet name that I only let Grams call me. Everyone else is at arm’s length, acquaintances who wouldn’t dare get that comfortable with me. And he’s not even that. At best, he’s a complete stranger. Worst case scenario, he’s my enemy.
“Haven’t you heard it’s not the size that matters?” I warn. “And by the way, that’s a nice drawl you have. I take it you’re a southern boy. Let me guess. Houston? Austin? No, wait. You’re either a Baton Rouge or Lafayette native. Am I right?”
“Good ear,” he confirms and presses up closer to me. So close that our bodies touch. So damn close that I look up and see not only his steel gray eyes but the slight trickle of blood at the spot where my knife meets his neck.
“You’d be surprised how much I can figure out about you from just spending a few more minutes here.”
“Show me,” he says, daring me to prove what I can do.
“You lace up your boots like someone with Special Ops training, tight to just below your ankle, with a few rows of the laces undone, just in case you have to wake up and shove your feet into them to move from one place to another at a moment’s notice. You cut your own hair, and I can tell from the slight nick on that one spot on your hairline. You also finished a military op very recently. Somewhere sunny, from the tan line of the chain you hold your dog tags on. Shall I go on?”
“Impressive.”
“Yes, but let’s not get too distracted. I asked you a question.”
“It doesn’t matter who I am or why I’m here,” he growls. “What matters is how much longer I’ll play your little game, and how much time you’ll have left if you keep digging that knife into my neck. By my estimation, it isn’t a lot.”
“Why you’re here is all that I care about. Although I’m starting to think it’s better if you’re not here at all.” I add extra pressure to the knife to get my point across. If I press much more, it’ll cut into his jugular and then it’s bye-bye, Mr. Sexy Stalker. “Do you like your life? Do you like breathing air? It’s a lot easier than choking on your own blood. Tell me what I want to know.”
I’ve been involved in mixed martial arts for a long time. At least ten years. But clearly, I don’t know it all. In a split second, he somehow pivots and finds a way to push the blade away. He instantly lifts me off the floor and turns me around. With one goddamned hand. I’m so angry at myself for giving him the leeway he needed to have this advantage over me now. I try to fight him off as my knife falls, but he’s too fast. He gets behind me, his gun digging into my side, and his big body has me jammed up against the wall beside the door I came in.
He gurgles out a low chuckle. “The only answer you’ll get from me is advice. Do you want to hear it?”
“No, I want you to fuck off and leave me alone,” I shout.
“Well here’s the advice, anyway. Next time you try to confront your pursuer, be ready for anything.”
“Let me go right this instant!” I scream, struggling to break free. “Or just kill me right now, because if you don’t, I’ll be the one after you, you big bastard.”
“If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t need to watch you for days or weeks before I actually do it. You’d be six feet under a week ago, long before you had a chance to figure out that I’m watching you.”
He wedges me against the wall with the weight of his body, and his free hand runs slowly up my arm.
“Stop that right now!” I shout.
Ignoring me, his hand moves up from the curve of my hips and past my waist. “Fuck, all these curves in this tiny body are enough to make me want to do more than just this weapons pat-down,” he whispers at the whorl of my ear. He stops over my breasts, massaging the flesh for a moment before slipping his hand past my collarbone and across my neck.
“Please stop,” I say as his straying hand comes to rest with his fingers buried in my long hair. This time I’m begging, but I hear the weakness of my voice and can’t help but become angry at myself. His touch ignites my body, sending heat and need to places I’ve never known could feel this hot.
“Make me,” he dares, and tugs my hair back, immobilizing my head, probably so I don’t reverse head-butt him in the face. I feel his lips at my ear and his hard cock at my back, and when his hips rock forward, I know it’s intentional, to make me fear for what he’ll do next, to show me that I’m at his mercy.
Reaching back with my arms, I catch fistfuls of his shirt and try to move him away, but it only makes him lean more of his body weight into me. I use one foot to back-kick his shins, but it’s no use. I have zero leverage.
“If you’re not going to kill me, let me go,” I ask again. A faint whiff of his woodsy cologne hits my nostrils, and I swear my body reacts with a tremor. Then I feel his mouth at my earlobe. He tugs the flesh with his teeth, and his lips slide down to my neck, sucking one spot so hard I’m sure it’ll leave a mark. I curse myself as my hips push back into him, getting a firmer feel of his dick on me. I want to resist. I want to fight with everything in me, but I have to admit, I also want to stay and find out what else he’ll do to my body. I should be ashamed for feeling this way about the man who’s been shadowing me all week. I just can’t help it.
“I’ll let you go, Little Red,” he growls. “But just remember. You might’ve found me, but I’m the one who marked you. Be grateful that I don’t follow my urge to fuck the fight out of you. Right here against this wall.”
His words hit me like a Mack truck, sending unfamiliar need coursing through my veins, all the way to my pulsing core.
Losing my parents so early on made me mistrustful and at a distance from most everyone. I’ve never had a man or boy put his cock this close to me, and I never had the desire to. Survival and blending in were my only two goals. I think my life or death instinct kept the boys away too. They looked, but they never made a move on me all through high school. I probably intimidated them. But this man, he’s not in the least bit afraid of me. I’m intoxicated. It’s as though his words, his body, his mere presence is a key that unlocks my body and makes it come alive.
“I’m going to count to three,” he continues in a threatening groan and tugs my hair a little harder. “On three, I’ll let you go, and you’ll have five seconds to pick up your pigsticker and get the fuck out of here. Understood?”
“Dammit,” I answer, feeling my anger bubble up my chest for letting him have the upper hand this time. “Okay yes, but can I at least know the name of the man I plan to place at the top of my list of enemies? Just in case it isn’t clear, I mean you.”
“I can give you one of a dozen fake names. None of them will help you track me down. But as you asked nicely, it’s Thorne Pierce. You’ve been marked by The Hunter, Little Red.”
Holy crap.
I gasp and wish I hadn’t made a sound the moment after I hear it. I know exactly who he is, though I shouldn’t have been so obvious about it. I’ve heard of him. He’s a tracker, a mercenary, a cold killer with no mercy. His name is uttered on lowered breaths in underground circles, in places I make it my business to stay connected to, if only to be aware of them, if and when I become the object of a hit. To the outside world, where most people have the mistaken belief that what they see is all there is, this man is no one. A ghost. But I know better. And now, I’ve seen his face.
“One. Two. Three.” On three, he does as he promises, taking one massive step back.
I’m sure that his gun must still be trained on me. He’s not that stupid. Reaching down, I grab my knife, and I run. I’ll live another day. The first thing I need to do is get my grandmother and best friends out of harm’s way. After that, The Hunter will become the hunted, and I won’t stop until one of us is dead.



Chapter 1 - Thorne


Three Weeks Earlier

This is it.
Six weeks of intense surveillance has led me to this moment. Scanning every visible room door along the penthouse hallway, I step off the elevator and straighten the electronic hotel manager ID and access badge at the breast pocket of my burgundy blazer. I briskly pass two entrances designed in frosted glass and chrome. Catching a glimpse of my reflection, I smile. The adrenaline pumping through my veins is normal. It makes me sharp, focused, on task, and I’ll put it to good use to ensure this assignment is completed with precision.
I’m a lone wolf by nature. As a former soldier, I much preferred being assigned jobs like the one I’m tasked with at the moment. I get a target, an objective, and I have some leeway and discretion as to how to complete it, holding the quality constant. That’s why I said yes when my employer came knocking.
In some ways, I guess they told me what I wanted to hear. That I’m independent, achievement-oriented, precise and loyal to a fault. Their staff psychologist had a different spin on my style, which wasn’t quite as nice. Something about misogyny and narcissism, mixed with a dose of borderline obsessive-compulsive behavior. But what the fuck do those academics really know? I get the job done.
It’s been close to two years since I’ve had a decent stretch of downtime. A reward will be in order after I’ve wrapped up this job with a neat little bow. Probably a fifteen-year-old bottle of single malt. Or two. It all depends on how much time my employer will keep me on the bench between jobs.
Before turning the final corner toward the presidential suite, I slide the letter-sized envelope out of the inner pocket of my blazer. I give it another look, patting the pen that’s clipped onto the pocket of my black slacks.
Everything is as planned.
Rounding the corner, I catch sight of the four muscle-bound Russian bodyguards, all wearing identical cheap navy-blue dress suits. Two of them turn their heads to me.
“I have an urgent letter for Mr. Mikhailov,” I say from a distance.
“We gave strict instructions to hotel management,” the first guard says in a thick accent. “No disruptions, period. That means no visitors, no letters, no packages, no housekeeping, and no room service, except at our request.”
“This is different,” I explain with a somewhat nervous stammer to maintain my cover. A regular Joe would be scared shitless standing face-to-face with these guards from just their larger than life, intimidating frames and less than polite dispositions. I turn the front of the letter toward them and take a few steps forward. “See? The note reads Urgent communication. Private and confidential. To be hand-delivered immediately and handled only by Mr. Ivan Mikhailov.”
The first guard turns to the one closest to the door, signaling him with a hand gesture for direction.
“Send it back,” says the one higher up the food chain.
I point at the letter again. “Are you sure you want your boss to find out that you’re the one who sent back something he might be expecting?”
Narrowing his eyes at me, he holds out his open palm. “Give it to me. I’ll take it in.”
“My apologies, but I’m afraid I can’t do that.” I show him the front of the letter again. “Our hotel prides itself on catering to the most discerning client request and on ensuring the utmost discretion. I absolutely must hand deliver it only to Mr. Mikhailov.”
Groaning out his impatience, he opens the door a crack and retrieves a state of the art hand scanner that detects metal, radioactive materials, and other undesirable substances.
“Step forward and hold out your letter toward me,” he orders.
I do as he says and he runs the wand over the letter, then scans my body from head to torso, groin to the floor.
“Enter,” he barks after scanning my back, and the next guard pushes the door open for me. “He’s in the sitting room. Boris will take you there.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” I answer and follow the guard who enters ahead of me. Boris, I assume.
My initial thought as I follow him in is that they made this a bit too easy. All of our scenarios counted on one of them attempting to open and inspect the letter at the door, which would’ve been fine, as it contains a flashbang nanotube prototype we’ve been testing in the field for the last six months. Still, I’m in, and may need to use this weapon to neutralize the guards on my way out.
Boris knocks on the French double doors of the sitting room.
“Enter,” says the voice from inside.
Boris pushes the door half-way. He humbly explains the reason for the interruption, speaking in Russian.
“Fine,” the voice replies, and Boris motions for me to go in, warning me that he and four other men in the room have their eyes on me. None of that matters. I’m a few feet from my target. They led me right to him.
I reach for my pen and delivery pad, explaining that his signature is required. When Mikhailov extends his arm for the envelope, I place the letter it his hand and simultaneously stab him with the pen, which is a hypodermic needle filled with whatever deadly toxin my employer is issuing this month.
The sound of him gasping for air and struggling gets the guards’ attention. Two close in on me, while the other two and Boris go to Mikhailov’s aid. I quickly disarm one, but the other meathead grabs me around my neck from behind. It takes me a few moments, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. A swift elbow to the gut and backward head-butt does the trick to neutralize him. Scooping up the letter again, I slip out the side door that leads to a private elevator down to the service staff level.
Minutes later, I slip in my earpiece and drive away on my vehicle of choice, a Kawasaki Ninja H2 motorcycle. As I speed to the rendezvous point, my employer informs me that plans have changed. The mission to Karachi has been reassigned. They give me the order to restock my provisions at the resupply warehouse in Maryland, then I’ll head to my next stop. I’m being put on what sounds like a dull, three-week surveillance assignment in Midwest, USA.
The targets: An eighty-one-year-old Pearl Adams and twenty-year-old Rose Adams.
I glance back at the six-star luxury hotel, neatly tucked into the side of a low ridge in the Swiss Alps.
It looks like I’ll have my downtime after all.






About me: I'm a Wall Street Journal (Begging for Bad Boys, April, 2017) and USA Today (Begging for Bad Boys, Alpha for the Holidays, Shifters in the Snow: Bundle of Joy, Shifters in the Shadows) Bestselling Author.

I love reading and writing steamy, high-action romance stories about firefighters, billionaires, and alpha males who know what they want and aren't afraid of laying claim to the women who catch their interest. I love a happy ever after ending. I enjoy reading, hiking, the countryside, and traveling to destinations unspoiled by commercial tourism, like Las Vegas... :)

Like so many characters in my novels, I enjoy action, romance and unexpected love connections that take your breath away. For the next while, you'll find me plotting and writing about my latest stories on my Macbook.






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Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Ardent Prose Presents: Breaking In His Virgin by Bella Love-Wins & Jenika Snow; #ReleaseBlitz, #NowAvailable, #OutNow, #Live, #99Pennies








She’s been my best friend for more years than I can count. But my friendly affection for her has turned into something much more. I am in love with Marie. But I’m too afraid to tell her. No other woman compares to her. She’s smart and hardworking, sweet and sexy, innocent yet made for temptation. And it’s because of that because i want her so damn much, that I’ve stayed celibate, hoping one day Marie will be mine.

But it’s when the threat of another man making her another notch in his bedpost that drives me into action. I should have made Marie mine long ago, but there’s no time like the present. It’s time I show her that nothing will stop me from claiming her.

Warning: Grab something cold to drink and crank on that fan, because you’ll be sweating as you read this short, filthy story. It’s sweet but delivers on that heat you need. Because who doesn’t like a hero who only has eyes for the one woman he’s always loved?









Rowan

I guide one of my colts out of the barn toward the equine veterinarian’s truck.  Right away, jealousy twists up my insides, urgent and demanding. I know I might be too late to stop fate the second I see her.
Marie Dawson.
We've known each other since childhood, but became close in our teens. All through high school, we had summer jobs at the Sun Vista Stables, the largest horse boarding ranch around.  Marie and I have been good friends for years. Our shared interest in horses put us in close quarters, but I never crossed the line. That’s not for lack of interest on my part. I’ve been tempted more than a few times.
I’ve been meaning to grow some balls and cross that line, see if she wants to be more than just friends. I’ve just been too afraid of ruining what we have. But it’s time to park all this fear and make my move. It’s past time. It seems fate is stepping in. A few days ago, I found out that Dr. Morris Trent, the local vet, hired Marie as his assistant.
The guy is a womanizing son of a bitch. He puts on the charm with every female to get what he wants. Not that he needs charm. For a lot of women around here, panties drop once they hear the title doctor before his name, even for just a vet.
I know Marie’s smart enough to see right through his games, but the fact that they’ll be working together day in and day out makes me worry a little. I should have been a man and told her how I felt long ago, but with the doctor threat now right in my face I need to just be honest and take this to the next level with her.
If I had it my way, she’d be nowhere near him. The thing is, helping nurse sick animals back to health is Marie's dream job. She worked hard for this career change, taking night classes while holding down two waitressing jobs. She sacrificed her free time to study and work so she could support her family and keep a roof over their heads when her dad lost his job at the mill.
So even though she lives in the next town over and has to drive thirty miles to work, I know exactly how important this job is to her. It's a unique opportunity, considering that Doc Trent is the only veterinarian around for a few hundred miles. I'm proud to know she's finally doing what she loves, but fuck, does it have to be with this guy?
Doc Trent's a player. He's slept with half of the single women around. I wish like hell Marie and I hadn’t been in the friend zone for so long, that I just had the guts to make her mine. But I know why I respected the friends only code we shared.
She told me ages ago that what we had in our friendship meant more to her than anything else.
In a lot of ways, I understand what she means. Having someone who knows you inside and out, sees your flaws, and still has your back, well, it’s rare. Good friends are few and far between, especially for a guy like me who has burned a hell of a lot of bridges. Before Marie and I were friends I’d given my virginity away. I regretted it, wished like hell I’d saved it … for her. Only for her. No other woman could get my heart racing like just the thought of Marie could.
And after I became friends with her … yeah, no other woman was good enough. So here I am, celibate for fucking years, only wanting one woman, my best friend, and she doesn’t even know it.
But seeing her now, it's driving me crazy to know that any day now, Doc Trent will hit on her with one thing in mind.
Getting her into bed, fucking her, and moving on to the next woman in sight.
No way am I about to let that happen.
Fuck no.
Marie is mine. Irrevocably.
I just hate it took some asshole threatening to move in on what is mine to get my ass in gear.
"Good morning!" Marie chirps, her voice pulling me from my thoughts as I make it to the open double doors at the back of the vet truck.
“Morning yourself.”
She pets the colt along his neck and he nudges toward her. “Hey, boy,” she hums, licking her lips.
I should be used to her by now, but the idea that some philandering douchebag in a Stetson cowboy hat, brand new Tony Lama cowboy boots, and fake as fuck rodeo buckle is sniffing around Marie causes me to see her in a new light. I can’t help but notice every little movement she makes around me now.
Like how she licks those sexy, full cupid’s bow lips.
It’s the last thing I need to see her doing right now while they’re glistening, shining a soft, naked and natural pink under the bright mid-morning sun. I’ve seen her countless times with makeup and without, and I’ve always liked admiring them, but today, it’s harder than ever not to smash my mouth to hers.
“You all right?” she asks.
“Sure I am.”
She reaches her hand up into her fiery red hair, all pulled up into a loose bun at the top of her head. My fingertips start to tingle. They’re itching with the urge to remove the hair band holding up that bun. I’d like to see all her wavy tresses fall around her shoulders, tempted to wrap a handful of it around my fist and take that mouth.
“You seem a little… distracted,” she says.
“Nah,” I tell her. I clear my throat and rearrange the growing bulge in my pants when she’s not looking. I can’t help but picture Doctor Love em’ and Leave em’ touching her, trying to coax her into his bed. It pisses me off and makes me possessive as hell.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The concern in her voice is unmistakable. She squints her big hazel-green eyes and tilts her head up from her five-foot-two height to inspect my face. Given that I’m six-foot-two, she’s always had to crane her neck a little to look up at me. Today, though, the slender lines and harsh sunlight only highlight the faint flutter of pulse point at the base of her neck. Jesus. At the rate I’m going, I’m liable to devour that spot any minute now, and several more on her body.
“I’m fine.”
“You look a little flushed.” Marie walks around the front of the colt and comes to my side. She places the back of her hand on my forehead. “Your skin’s kinda warm.”
I have to do my best not to react to the heat of her touch. I curse silently, mostly at goddamned Doc Trent. Although I probably should thank him. If he hadn’t hired her, if he hadn’t become an imminent threat, I might have stayed a coward and never told her how I feel. But the womanizing doctor has lit a fire under my ass, it seems. I’m standing here with an erection growing without my permission. And feeling all kinds of possessiveness about Marie.





Jenika Snow

Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.





Bella Love-Wins

I'm a Wall Street Journal (Begging for Bad Boys, April, 2017) and USA Today (Begging for Bad Boys, Alpha for the Holidays, Shifters in the Snow: Bundle of Joy, Shifters in the Shadows) Bestselling Author.

I love reading and writing steamy, high-action romance stories about firefighters, billionaires, and alpha males who know what they want and aren't afraid of laying claim to the women who catch their interest. I love a happy ever after ending. I enjoy reading, hiking, the countryside, and traveling to destinations unspoiled by commercial tourism, like Las Vegas... :)

Like so many characters in my novels, I enjoy action, romance and unexpected love connections that take your breath away. For the next while, you'll find me plotting and writing about my latest stories on my Macbook.