When Vane reads

Welcome! This blog is for share all about that we love... the books... Reviews, covers and more.... /// ¡Bienvenidos! En este blog vamos a compartir opiniones de libros, portadas y mucho más de lo que nos gusta... los libros ///

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“Hands down, one of my fav reads this year!”

- Ilsa Madden-Mills, Wall Street Journal bestselling author

The Legacy, an all-new steamy contemporary romance standalone from Dylan Allen is available NOW!

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He's the king of all he surveys.
Except her.
Exiled for 15 years, Hayes Rivers has finally assumed his place as head of Houston’s oldest and most powerful family.

Now, they call him King.
A legacy of wealth and prestige are his to claim.
As age-old rivalries, long-buried secrets, and generations of betrayal threaten his birthright, he finds himself in a battle for control of his family’s future.
When he meets Confidence, she’s a sweet distraction.
Everything he shouldn’t want.
But after a weekend of passion and surprising intimacy,
he realizes she's everything he needs
He holds the keys to a kingdom,
But he covets the key to her heart.
And he'll stop at nothing to claim his queen.

the legacy an one

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He rakes his eyes down my body. My white blouse feels thin under his heated gaze. I shift in my shoes when he lingers on my hips. “You’ve missed me,” he says. “I haven’t,’’ I lie. “If I touched your pussy, what would I feel?” he asks. “That’s one question you won’t be answering tonight.” “I want to touch you.” He dips his head and kisses my cheek. His hand grips my hip. “You’ll feel better when I’ve made you come,” he whispers against my cheek. He moves so fast that my ass is up on the edge of the sink before I can protest. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks. His finger trails up my leg and stops at my knee. Blood rushes in my ears, heat pools between my thighs. “Of course not,” I breathe. His fingers slip under the hem of my shorts and I grab his fingers. “But I’m going to ask you to anyway.” His eyes fly up to mine in surprise, but there’s no anger there. In fact, I think what I see is respect. “Why?” he asks and stands back up. If it could speak, my vagina would be cursing me out. “Because what I want isn’t what I need, Hayes.” “Why are they mutually exclusive?” “I don’t want to just be your partner in bed,” I admit. “Oh, Tesoro,” he sighs and drags his nose across my temple before he moves us back to facing each other. He cups my face in his hands and presses a soft kiss to my lips before he pulls back. “There’s not a pussy in this world I’d fall on my knees for. Not even yours,” he says, the fierce love and tenderness in his eyes stealing my breath. His eyes never leaving mine, he continues. “But for this, Tesoro…” His palms cover the space between my breasts and my heart kicks against the wall of my chest, desperate to find its way into the hand of the man it loves. “For the love of the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.” He kisses me again. “I would spend the rest of my life on my fucking knees.” And then, my big, strong, beautiful man brings my entire world to a halt. He drops to his knees in front of me. On the floor of the public restroom. “Hayes, get up.” I tug his arm. “Please.” He grips my hips and presses his face in between my legs and inhales. “Goddamn.” His groan vibrates against me and moisture blooms beneath his mouth and nose. “I love the way your pussy smells. I fucking miss the way it tastes. I’m dying to feel it gripping my cock.” He rubs his nose against my clit and pleasure skitters, like the kiss of butterfly wings, all over my body. I thread my fingers into his thick, silky hair just as he leans away and stares up at me with that same fierceness. But now, it’s laced with need. He has the look of a predator, and I wish he would hurry up and catch me. “I want to plant my flag there so that everyone knows it’s mine. But, it’s not even in the top five of my favorite things about you, Confidence. And it’s certainly not the only thing I want.” He looks up at me through his honest, smart eyes, and the rest of the world falls away. “Oh, Hayes …” I trace the line of his strong brows and sweep down the slope of his nose. “I want your fire. I want your courage; I want your loyalty. I want your anger, your disdain, your disappointment.” I brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “I want you smiles; I want your laughter. I want you fighting for my team. And yes, I want your pussy. Every day.” He squeezes my hips, and I want to give him everything he’s just asked me for. But … “I can’t.” I shake my head, caught between my fear and my love and feeling like neither one of them are serving me well right now. “You won’t,” he chides me gently, but with real reproach in his voice. “But I understand.” He cuts off my protest. “You want to protect yourself. But you can’t. Not from me. Not from us. It’s all or nothing. And as long as we’re alive, it will never be nothing.” “Hayes, don’t …” I pull back slightly and shake my head. I don’t know what to say. “I know,” he says with real regret in his eyes. “I fucked up. But, I am not that asshole who treated you like you were nothing. I’m not ashamed of anything except that something I did made you feel like you were less than the miraculous person I know I’ll never deserve,” he says. My hand comes to my chest and my fingers clutch the front of my blouse. “Oh, Hayes,” is all I can manage. “But, I need you to understand—” His eyes go from pleading to demanding in a blink. “That you thought I was hiding something?” I interject. “No,” he says sharply. “That I’m responsible for my entire family. Not just the ones that are alive right now. But the ones who will be alive in a hundred years. I just had to keep the estate intact because I lost sight of that once and married someone who I barely knew.” “Well, I’m not her,” I remind him. “I know that … and I knew it in Italy, too. By the time the report came, I didn’t care what it said.” “Why not?” I ask. “I already knew everything that I needed to about you. You’re the woman who leans in when most people lean away,” he says. I want so badly to throw my arms around his neck and tell him it’s okay. That I see him, and that I’ll always lean in. “I’m going to show you why us. How us. I’m asking for a lot. Your future. Your love. Your loyalty. Your body. Your children. Your life,” he says. “But I’m offering you the same things in return.”
About Dylan Allen
Dylan Allen is a Texas girl with a serious case of wanderlust. A self-proclaimed happily ever junkie, she loves creating stories where her characters chase their own happy endings. When she isn’t writing or reading, eating or cooking, she and her family are planning their next adventure. Dylan Allen
Connect with Dylan
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordylanallen/
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Book+Main: https://bookandmainbites.com/dylanallen
Stay up to date with Dylan by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2OcDm8M
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Medicine Man by Saffron A. Kent
Release Date: September 27th
Genre: Contemporary Romance
   
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BLURB
Willow Taylor lives in a castle with large walls and iron fences. But this is no ordinary castle. It’s called Heartstone Psychiatric hospital and it houses forty other patients. It has nurses with mean faces and techs with permanent frowns.
It has a man, as well. A man who is cold and distant. Whose voice drips with authority. And whose piercing gray eyes hide secrets, and maybe linger on her face a second too long.
Willow isn’t supposed to look deep into those eyes. She isn’t supposed to try to read his tightly leashed emotions. And neither is she supposed to touch herself at night, imagining his powerful voice and that cold but beautiful face.
No, Willow Taylor shouldn’t be attracted to Simon Blackwood, at all.
Because she’s a patient and he’s her doctor. Her psychiatrist.
The medicine man.
WARNING: This book discusses sensitive issues including but not limited to, depression and suicide.

Review

OMG !!! HOW WILL I LIVE AFTER THIS HISTORY ???? I do not have enough words to describe everything this book made me feel. I can not stop thinking about the story and the characters, from the first words I knew it would become one of my favorites, and I was not wrong, it has every part of my mind and heart. The author made me addicted to her words, I practically inhaled the pages.

Willow and Simon are a unique couple, both have so much burden on their shoulders, and have suffered so much, their demons do not leave them alone, but with the help of the other, they manage to find a cure for their pain and complement each other perfectly, I loved sooo much this couple, gahhhh I could not get enough of their dialogues, their scenes, their words.

Willow is a warrior, she suffers day by day, it is so difficult for her the simple fact of getting out of bed, every day is a new battle and some days are harder than others, but she tries to goes on despite everything, and Simon is a new light that helps her. I suffered so much with her, the author manages the subject very well and makes us feel all her emotions with her.

Simon, oh Simon, as I love him, I could not help but sigh for him, through history we see him fight for what he feels, and despite everything that happens, and certain moments where he caused me to slap him, I loved him , is one of my favorite characters of all time.

It is a story so unique, emotional, special, full of anguish, pain and drama, my emotions are a mess, I was hooked from the first page and left me with a great book hangover.

This is my first story from Mrs. Kent, but I guarantee you it will not be the last, I can not wait for her new stories. The author wraps us in her words and gives us a masterpiece, complex characters and a plot that hooked me from beginning to end. This is definitely a MUST reading.


           
EXCERPT
“Do you have someone special, Dr. Blackwood?”
Someone you kiss? Someone you grab and pull into a dark alley and press against
walls?
I don’t say that but I’m definitely asking that.
It’s like he hears the unspoken questions because the heat of his body seems to have
doubled. Like his blood is rushing in his veins with an uncanny speed.
With flaring nostrils and a hard jaw, he answers, “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m busy.”
I want to smile. Actually, I’ve never wanted to smile this hard. Ever. His answer calms
me but it also makes me restless to move closer to him. I want to trace my palm over the arch
of his chest and see if I got it right in my dreams.
But I don’t do any of those things. I don’t want him to take away this small concession
he’s given me.
Why is he even giving it to me? I’m not complaining. But still.
“Busy with patients?”
“Busy with my job. Yes,” he says, all professional-like.
That’s what he is. Professional and distant. Dedicated to his job and fixing people. If
Mass General let him go, then they are idiots.
I’m an idiot, too, in this moment.
Instead of backing off, I want to do something. Something that might crack his cool
façade. Maybe reaching up and messing up his no-nonsense hair.
What would he do? If I did that? If I grabbed his collar and pushed him against the wall?
And kissed him?
My eyes drop to his lips, his soft, soft lips. There’s a cleft in the middle of his lower lip. I
want to taste that cleft, dig my tongue in it, wet it, suck on it, bite it.
“So you don’t have fun at all?”
“No. I’m not a fun guy.”
I watch his lips form the words, and every syllable that comes out of his mouth makes
my need to shake him, kiss him, mess him up, stronger. Stronger and stronger.
The need is so consuming that I hardly notice when he puts his hand on my palm and
takes it off his body. It’s final and smooth, his action. Effortless. As though my touch barely
registered to him.
“But I think you have a point. It’s after hours and I should go… have fun rather than
spending my time with a patient.” He steps back then. “I’ll see you next week. Same time.”

           

About the Author
Writer of bad romances. Aspiring Lana Del Rey of the Book World.
Saffron A. Kent is a Top 100 Amazon Bestselling author of Contemporary and New Adult romance. More often than not, her love stories are edgy, forbidden and passionate. Her work has been featured in Huffington Post, New York Daily News and USA Today’s Happy Ever After.
She lives in New York City with her nerdy and supportive husband, and a million and one books.
   
Connect with Saffron
Website: http://www.saffronkent.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheSaffronKent/
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Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/saffron-a-kent
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Saffron-A.-Kent/e/B01MZCZ0LG
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16192760.Saffron_A_Kent
             
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“T.M. Frazier sucked me in from the very first page and then slayed me with the end of Perversion. This trilogy is EPIC!”

— Meghan March, New York Times bestselling author

PERVERSION, book one in the Perversion Trilogy from USA Today bestselling author T.M. Frazier is available now!

PERVERSION FRONT AMAZON
Love is supposed to be a fairy tale.
Ours is a death wish.
I'm the executioner for the Bedlam Brotherhood.
She's a con artist working for my greatest enemy.
I use her.
She manipulates me.
We find ourselves on opposite sides of a bloody war.
My heart and head tell me I have to stay away.
My lust for her doesn't give a sh*t.
Nothing's fair in love and gang war.

Review
Get ready for the journey of your life!!!

I'm so in love with this story !!!!! I could not get enough of it and the characters ... It's intense, raw, passionate, sexy, full of action, secrets and lies. It is a story that takes you on a roller coaster of emotions, which had me with my heart in my throat, eating my nails, holding my breath and on the verge of emotional collapse several times.

The story hooked me from the first line, and I could not stop until I finished reading, its plot is so exciting that it made me turn the pages as if my life depended on it, it made me completely addicted to his words.

Grim and Emma Jean, oh my God, stole my heart from the first moment. Both characters are lonely beings, their romance is so unique and special, gahhh ** sighs tirelessly *** that my heart ached for them, both feel that connection and spark from the first time their hands are rubbing, and in the following meetings, that attraction grows and giving way to more intense emotions.

Grim is the typical main character of the stories of Mrs. Frazier, an antihero who will steal your breath and make you fall at his feet, because despite his raw way of being, he loves with intensity and protects his loved ones with fierce passion. And he defends Emma Jean with everything he has.

Emma Jean, she is my animal spirit, a lonely, brave girl, who confronts everyone and everything for the beings that she loves. Sadly the others manage to take advantage of her constantly and it is that loyalty that lands her in the most dangerous and harsh situations for her.

Their scenes and their dialogues are sweet, but at the same time passionate and full of that explosive chemistry that my Tablet almost explodes.

The last chapters are too intense and full of emotion and action, there are twists that I never saw coming and that ending, wow, crushed my heart and shattered it. I do not know how I can live until November.

If you like action stories, intense, with unconventional characters, this is a story you will not want to miss ... A must read.


PERVERSION IS BOOK ONE IN THE PERVERSION TRILOGY
BOOK TWO: POSSESSION
BOOK THREE: PERMISSION
Download your copy of PERVERSION

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PERVERSION TRILOGY

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Excerpt:

Emma Jean
When I was younger, I fell in love with magic. I learned every card trick there was from library books and unmasking magic TV specials. I used to put on shows for Gabby that included escaping from complicated knots and trick handcuffs. But what’s magic besides a sleight of hand? It’s a lie. And lying is what I’m damn good at. My ability to spin a tall tale or two lead to stealing wallets and conning people into taking stray pets for the thrill of it. Now, I’m using it to earn for Marco. The thrill is there, but it’s muted, hindered, lost under his pile of mounting threats. The inside of the casino smells like stale cigarettes, spilled beer, and burnt coffee. We’re not supposed to be in here. It’s Bedlam territory. But that’s also why it’s perfect. It isn’t like anyone would recognize us here. We’ve made friends with a few of the cocktail waitresses by giving them a small cut, and they don’t ask questions or ring any alarms when they see us working. I’ve also been straightening my hair over the last few years since my crazy curls stand out like a reflector on a dark highway. I’ve dyed it a few shades darker than my normal honey blonde to help blend in. Tonight is starting off well. Gabby and I are working a con we’ve run a few times before. Gabby walks away, her long dark hair swooshing behind her. She gives me a nod as she passes me by on the slot machine I’m pretending to play. She’s just faked losing an expensive engagement ring at another slot machine. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she frantically looked around for it, then loudly announced a thousand-dollar reward would be waiting at the casino cage for whoever returned it. She is flawless. She should be an actress. And in another life, she would be. But we don’t live in another life. We live in Lacking and belong to Los Muertos. Our lives are not our own. A few people casually look around the area, then return to their machines when they don’t find the ring Gabby was ranting about. They won’t either. Because it’s not there. Yet. It's go time. I strut over to the area Gabby just left and put a dollar in the machine. While the wheels spin, I pretend to pick up the dime store ring I already have in my hand. By the time the machine dings to tell me I’ve lost my dollar, I’m turning the ring over, inspecting it like I don’t have half a dozen more just like it in my drawer back at the apartment. “Would you look at that?” I mutter to myself loud enough so others around me can hear. A man in an Adidas jumpsuit with a potbelly taps me on the shoulder. “I’ll take that. I saw the woman who dropped it. I’ll go return it to her.” Liar. You just want the reward. “That’s so nice of you,” I say. I hold it out, about to drop it into his hand when I pull it back. “I bet there’s a reward for something this valuable.” I start to walk around the man. “I’ll take it up to management. Maybe, they know…” “Here,” the man says, holding up a hundred-dollar bill. “Take this. I’ll take it to her. I just…you know, as I said, I want to make sure it gets back to the right person.” You’re not even a good liar. Sometimes, it’s just too freaking easy. And this scam wasn’t even an Emma Jean and Gabby original. We saw it a long time ago in a movie starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. Doesn’t anyone else watch movies? I shrug and pass him the ring. Plucking the bill from his hand, I tuck it into my bra. “Thanks,” I say before quickly making my way toward the large glass front doors. It’s Thursday. Marco’s money is due in two days, and we’re short this week. Really short. I walk slowly and wave goodbye to the valets with a smile on my face. “Any luck, tonight?” One asks me. “I think so,” I answer with a smile. Once I’m down the sidewalk and out of view, I scramble to the side of the casino where I kick off my heels and change from the sequined dress I’d stolen from a dry-cleaner into a pair of cut-off shorts and my yellow Keds. Now, all I have to do is wait for Gabby. I don’t have to wait long. “Run!” Gabby yells, darting from the doors of the casino with two large men wearing tight black security t-shirts close behind. Running from security is terrifying enough, knowing that we’re running from members of the Bedlam Brotherhood kicks it up a notch. I grab my backpack and sling it across my shoulders. I move as fast as I can until I’m running right alongside her. We race through the gates, cross the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by two cars. We duck into a hole in a fence and run through one backyard after the other. “One of those cunt waitresses must have tipped them off!” Gabby says, through shallow breaths. She’s barefoot in a black mini-dress hiked up to her ass to give her long legs room to run. Her long thick hair is wrapped around her face, sticking to her mouth. We hit the sixth backyard. Without another word, we separate behind a clothesline. We’ve mapped out this escape plan a thousand times, but this is the first time we’ve ever had to use it. When I make it into the central part of town, to the Los Muertos/Bedlam border, I can no longer hear the shouts of the security guards. I lost them. Hopefully, Gabby did, too. I use a tower of stacked-up wooden pallets on the sidewalk like a ladder to scale a concrete wall, then drop down into the alley. I grow more panic-stricken the longer I wait for Gabby. I bite the inside of my lip, pacing back and forth along the high wall. The Bedlam Brotherhood runs the security at the casino. If they catch her and find out who she is? Or worse? Who her brother is? They'll... I shake the thought from my mind. She’ll be fine. She HAS to be fine. Please be okay, Gabby. Please. I’m trying to catch my breath and pull myself together when I hear a clink echo through the alley as if someone dropped some spare change, followed by the sound of something heavy dropping to the asphalt. “Gabby?” I ask into the darkness. Thinking it’s her, relief washes over me like rain on a barren desert. My only answer is the flickering of a fluorescent light mounted high on the roof’s edge of the adjoining building. And the hiss of what sounds like a cat behind a dumpster. I walk over and peer around it. “Gabby? Are you hurt? Say something!” I whisper-shout. Someone moves from within the shadow. “Get out here, Gabby. We’ve got to go before Mar…” The light flickers again, for just a second. That second is all I need to see that the someone slowly stalking toward me is not Gabby. It’s a man…twice my size. “Who are you?” I ask, shuffling backward as the man cloaked in a black leather hood emerges from the shadows. The front of his jacket is open. Underneath, he's shirtless, covered in a sheen of sweat, and more tattoos than visible skin all the way up the front of his throat. His muscled chest and abs flex with each step he takes. The hood shadows most of his face, but when the lights flicker again, yellow eyes glow from within. And they’re locked on me. My ‘save your ass’ mode kicks in. The man is blocking the only exit. My only other chance of escape is to scale the same wall I used to drop into the alley. I keep moving backward as he approaches until my back hits the wall. I look left and right for something to use to climb on. There’s nothing but emptiness. My stomach sinks, but surrender is not an option. I swallow hard as the alarm bells scream in my head for me to run. Somewhere. Anywhere. There’s nowhere to go! My legs tremble. Fear crawls like a million spiders along the backs of my legs. I push myself further against the wall as if I can squish the feeling away, but it’s useless. Fear consumes me. Swallows me whole. He continues toward me. As he gets closer, I realize it’s not just sweat glistening on his skin. There’s something else splattered across the tattoos on his chest and on his stubbled jaw. It almost looks like wet paint. My breathing stops when he’s close enough that I can make out the tattoo on the front of his throat. A bleeding black rose. The symbol of the Bedlam Brotherhood. I’ve heard stories about Grim. The man in the hood. The executioner for Bedlam. They were all terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the reality of coming face to face with the man himself. “We didn’t do anything,” I blurt. “I mean, we did, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’ll…I’ll give the money back. Just tell your men not to hurt my friend. It was all my idea. Let her go, and you can take me.” “Who the fuck are you?” he asks. His voice is so thick and deep I feel it more than hear it. Shivers erupt all over my body. He raises his arm, revealing a long curved blade. For the first time in my life, I can’t seem to be able to hide my fear with my wit or sarcasm. My throat tightens. I can’t swallow, never mind speak. I’ve lost my words completely, along with my nerve. The man’s blade drips red onto the pavement from the serrated tip. Every fear response I didn’t even know I had runs rampant. I’m holding my breath. My muscles tense as if running was still an option. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle my skin as they stand on end. I raise up to my tip-toes and push back, trying to make myself disappear into the wall. I glance from the knife back to his chest, then back again. The splatters across his skin? It’s not fucking paint. Before I can process what the hell is happening, he switches from slow-stalking mode into hyper-speed, pinning my wrists above my head. His hard, bloodied chest pushes against me, smearing blood across my white tank top, forcing the back of my head to connect roughly with the wall. “I’ll only ask you this one more time. Who the fuck are you?” His low guttural growl rattles my bones. His unblinking, angry, golden eyes lock onto mine. Without the fluorescent light, they’re more golden brown than a glowing yellow. As much as I want to, I can’t look away. He could be the last person I ever see. The thought is just the spike of adrenaline I need. “Let me go,” I say, finally finding my words. I try and jerk my wrists from his grip with no luck. I’m trapped. My fear and anger rise to the surface, but I shove it back down. Fear won’t get me out of this situation, so it will have to wait for its damned turn. He digs his rough fingers into my skin. “Answer me. Who the fuck are you?” The bite of pain only makes me angrier. I throw his question back at him. “Who the fuck are you?” He glances down at my rapidly rising and falling chest before pinning me with his stare. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a half-smirk. “So much confidence for someone who's trembling,” he says with an amused glint shining in his demonic eyes. I shrug. “Maybe, I’m just not a fan of enclosed spaces,” I say through gritted teeth. “You didn’t answer me,” he says. “Why do you have blood all over you?” I answer him with yet another question. “You know, if you were committing some kind of crime back there, you should be more careful. I recommend a bleach bath and death by fire for your clothes the first chance you get. If it’s self-harm, I’m sure there’s a helpline you can call.” He cocks his head to the side. His nostrils flare. His face is only inches away. I can feel the heat from his body against mine. His cool breath flutters against my neck. I’ve never been this close to a man before. My trembling grows. My inner thighs shake sending a rippling wave of something very unfamiliar coursing through the center my body. I try and press my legs together to stop it from happening again, but when he uses his knee to wedge my legs apart, caging me in even further, it only grows, uncoiling from within like a slinky being pulled apart at the ends. I swallow hard as the stubble of his jaw presses against my neck. “Name,” he demands, his voice raspier than before. I shut my eyes tight for a beat, trying to gain composure, control, something that will help me as I try and reason my way out of this. “Listen, I didn’t see anything,” I blurt. “That is if you did anything. I’m not going to call the police if that’s what you're worried about. I wouldn’t anyway, even if I saw something, which I didn’t.” His brows knit together in a harsh line. “Why?” His question confuses me. “Why what?” “Why wouldn’t you tell the police?” Because Marco owns them. “Let’s just say that I haven’t exactly been a model citizen myself tonight. Let’s face it. If the police around here weren’t being paid not to do their jobs, half this town would be locked up.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “Especially people like us.” He stills. There’s no more talking. Only heavy breathing and a battle of wills. He releases one of my hands. I think he’s reaching for his knife. My blood turns cold. I can feel my face pale as my heart starts beating as faster and faster as if it wants to get in as many as possible before the end. I’m surprised when he doesn’t go for his knife. Instead, his hand travels slowly down my chest into my cleavage. “No, don’t!” I say, but it’s too late, he’s already yanked on my locket. “Please just give it back, and let me go,” I plead. Feeling like it’s my real heart he's torn from my chest. “It’s the only thing in this world that means anything to me. Besides my best friend, it’s all I have.” I hate the desperation in my voice, but it’s the truth. He’s silent for a moment. He raises his arms. I flinch, raising my arms over my face defensively. But when nothing happens, I lower them, just in time to see him push back his hood, revealing his face. “Why?” I ask, closing my eyes knowing full well that the only time a criminal reveals himself to a witness is right before they take them out. “Look at me,” he demands, holding my face in his hand. “No!” I say, shutting my eyes tighter. “Look at me!” he bellows. He’s on me again. This time, he holds my head in his large rough hands. “Open your fucking eyes so you can see me.” With no other choice than to get my head squished like a turtle under a car tire, I do as he demands. Opening my eyes, I blink through the haze, and when it clears, I’m met with tousled, medium-length, light brown hair, slicked back on the top, shorn close to head on the sides. His nose is slightly crooked like it’s been broken a few times before. The stubble on his square, defined jaw is a few days over needing a shave. A jagged scar runs through his chin like an angry white lightning bolt. He’s the most fucking beautifully terrifying man I’ve ever seen. He’s searching my eyes for something, but I don’t know what. “Why?” I ask in a whisper. His hands release mine, but he doesn’t step back. He leans in closer, speaking against my cheek in a rumble of a whisper. The strange feeling from earlier comes back as a zap of electricity bouncing around my insides looking for somewhere to ground. I’m breathing heavy. Our lips are so close, almost touching. He slides one hand off my face, snaking it around my neck, pulling me closer. He starts to answer in a rumble of a whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on my already prickled skin. “Because I want you to see the face of the man who’s just—” “Where the fuck are you?” calls Gabby from the other side of the wall. “I lost them!” The moment, whatever it is, is now broken. The man releases me so suddenly I brace myself against the wall to keep from falling. I turn my head toward her voice. “Gabby!” I shout back. My heart is beating out of control. Out of habit, I raise my hand to my chest, seeking familiar comfort. I look up. The man in the hood is gone. And so is my locket.


About the Author
T.M. (Tracey Marie) Frazier never dreamed that a single person would ever read a word she wrote when she published her first book. Now, she is a five-time USA Today bestselling author and her books have been translated into numerous languages and published all around the world. T.M. enjoys writing what she calls sexy‘wrongside of the tracks romance’ with morally corrupt anti-heroes and ballsy heroines. Her books have been described as raw, dark and gritty. Basically, what that means, is while some authors are great at describing a flower as it blooms, T.M. is better at describing it in the final stages of decay. She loves meeting her readers, but if you see her at an event please don’t pinch her because she's not ready to wake up from this amazing dream. TmFrazier

Connect with T.M. Frazier
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