Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Release Day Blitz for Compulsive Fascination by N. Isabelle Blanco





Synopsis 

He owns her—Every. Single. Breath. She just doesn't want to admit it. To him, or herself. . .

You get hurt once; you assume that’s the norm. You see others suffer; you assume that’s the norm, too.

At least, that’s what Livana once did. One rough go-around was enough for her. After that, she kept it simple, no strings attached. It was just easier that way. Even necessary.

Until she went out one night and met Calum Alexander, a man whose intensity broke through each of her defenses, leaving her vulnerable.

Afraid to fall in love, she tries to keep some of her walls up around herself, even though Calum is determined not to let her.

Faced with a man that seems intent on possessing her, Liv knows it’s a mere matter of time before she no longer has a choice.

That is. . .until Calum's own insecurities come to the fore, throwing their new, fragile relationship into a tailspin.

Will the feelings between them be strong enough to keep them together, or will their issues get in the way of what they had just started to build?





Excerpt


It occurred to me that we never really had angry sex before.

It was about to happen.

Right now.

Leaning down, he slanted his mouth over mine. I took it, opening my mouth for the aggressive thrust of his tongue. Our tongues tangled, breaths mingling. He kissed me with slow, hard laps, making his message clear.

He owned my body.

He knew it.

Did he think that gave him the right to hug his ex in front of me and that I’d have no say about it?

Hurt, I bit down on his lip.

Not breaking our kiss, he groaned and sucked on my tongue. His fingers tightened around my nipples. That hint of pain again.

Each sting merged with the sensations his tongue evoked, until I was drugged. Couldn’t think about anything but him coming inside me.

Letting go of his wrists, I fisted his lapels. “God, just fuck me already. Please.” My tone was incoherent. Needy.

He wrenched my head back with a fist in my hair, attacking my neck with his tongue and teeth. “You want me to fuck you?” He gave me a harsh bite that made me yelp.

It wasn’t lost on what his words truly meant. “Yes. You.” Gasping for breath, I pressed as close to him as possible. “Always you.”

He didn’t deserve that, but I had no choice but to give it to him.

A guttural sound left him. His hands came down on my ass, lifting me up against him. “I’ll give it to you. Every single, God damned thing.”

Christ, please tell me that meant what I thought it meant.

Bending at the knee, he scooped me up into his arms.

I'd become so lightheaded with want that it took me a few seconds to find my voice. When I finally did, it sounded raspier than I’d ever heard it. “Where are we going?”

The look in his eyes somehow turned hungrier.

Angrier.

Determined.

I couldn’t focus on the beautiful garden around us, or what direction he stormed in.

It was all about him. That austere expression, the hardened brow. His golden eyes fixated ahead and burning with that violent energy.

Oh, God. I loved him. I truly did. So fucking much, and suddenly, I couldn’t breathe through the emotion—could barely contain the words inside me.

Calum raced up another short flight of steps and lowered me down to my unsteady feet. He reached into his coat pocket for that passkey again and stepped up to me.

His free hand met my pussy through my dress, palming it, the action possessive. “We’re going somewhere private. You’re mine. No one sees you come but me.”
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Giveaway

About the Author

N. Isabelle Blanco was born in Queens, NY (USA). At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

An avid reader in her teens, her fascination with Japanese anime eventually led her to the universe of fan fiction, which became her on-again, off-again hobby for the next ten years. During that time she amassed a following of fans that, by her own admission, she would never be able to live without. It was those fans who encouraged her to step beyond the fan fiction realm and try her talent in the publishing world.

N. Isabelle Blanco spends her days working as an author, web programmer, marketer, and graphic designer. That is when she isn’t handling her “spawn”, as she calls her son, and brainstorming with him about his future career as a comic book illustrator.





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Friday, November 14, 2014

Author Spotlight Dawn Martens

It's Just Love Not A Time Bomb 




Expected publication: December 1st 2014

When Jordan moves in with his friend’s cousin, he thinks things will be easy. Yeah, screw that. The woman is a pain in his ass from the start, giving him whiplash with her hot and cold act. Still, Jordan can’t help wanting Alix—even if he does spend half the time trying to decide if he wants to kiss her senseless or choke her. 

For Alix, men are worthless jerks. She’s made a vow to steer clear of relationships, but the moment Jordan pushes his way into her life, her vow is shot all to hell. Every attempt at avoiding the cocky bastard ends in tangled sheets and Alix wanting to kill the man. But she wants him, more than she cares to admit. 


Will this jaded couple give into their feelings? After all, it's Just Love, Not a Time bomb.

Pre-order




Renegade Lady (Renegade Sons MC Book 1)



WARNING: 

Renegade Lady contains adult situations some readers may find offensive. This is a raw and gritty story involving explicit sex, graphic language, violence and drug use. Not intended for readers under 18. 


Jenna “Ice” Chandler grew up as part of a motorcycle club. She considered it her home, until one wrong move made it her prison. After months of abuse, she is rescued by Chipper, who takes her to Big Clifty, Missouri, home of the Renegade Sons MC. 

Kiddrick “Kidd” Jones is the president of the Renegades. He knows there is something special about Ice the moment his older brother, Chipper, brings her into the club, but stays away, because she is too young. 

When time comes for Ice to take her place in the club, she has two choices, become an old lady or a club whore. Not believing in love and knowing a man can never be faithful, she decides to earn her spot on her back. 

With each passing year, Kidd's feelings for Ice grows and the urge to make her his becomes stronger. Frustrated and jealous, he finally decides it’s time to make her his. 

Will Ice finally thaw out and give love a chance, or is Kidd fighting a losing battle?






Renegade Reject (Renegade Sons MC Book 2)


Daisy “Little Flower” Anderson has lived her entire life on the sidelines of the Renegade Sons MC. Her father is a member, and her mother a club whore turned old lady. Not wanting to follow their footsteps, she chose a different path; one that keeps her close to the biker family she loves, but out of the club. 
Struggling to keep it together, she never thought she would have anything of her own, until she met Preach. He is everything she swore she didn't want in life. One night of passion leads to unexpected consequences, and she knows, now more than ever, it’s time to move forward. 
Garrett “Preach” Austin lived his life caught in his father’s iron fist. He never thought he would want anything more than freedom from his past, until he met his “Little Flower”. She shows him there is more to life than pain. 
Preach has a secret; one that forces him to choose between Daisy and his brothers. Even though he loves Daisy, the Renegade Sons are the only true family he has. He knows he can’t have her, yet he can’t let her go. 
When Daisy moves on, Preach realizes what he’s lost. Can he prove that he’s the man for her, or is he too late? 

WARNING: 
Renegade Reject contains adult situations some readers may find offensive. This is a raw and gritty story involving explicit sex, foul language, violence and drug use. Not intended for readers under 18. 




Love Song Series Box Set


Whiskey Lullaby: (Revised and Extended) 
Jase lived the last nine years drowning in whiskey, while Julie sung a lonely lullaby. Can they find a way to give their whiskey lullaby a happy ending? 

Broken: 
Brandon's wounded; Bethany's broken. Can these two shattered souls heal each other? 

I Hope You Dance: 
Join the Walker and Gibson families as they learn to dance. 


Love Song Series Box Set contains adult situations some readers may find offensive. These stores include explicit sex, foul language, and violence. Not intended for readers under 18.







Chase (Resisting love Book 1)


Moving in with a guy you only met once? Stupid. 
But for student Layla Crawford, this was reality. 
Chase Jackson is a renowned playboy and self professed commitment phobe, that is until he meets Layla. 
Blinded by his intensity to have her, Chase will stop at nothing to make her his. 
With a jealous ex and old conquests repeatedly making appearances, Chase' s skeletons come out of the closet one by one, each one pushing Layla further and further away. 
Layla is determined to keep her distance. Chase now has to convince the only woman he has ever wanted that he is worth the gamble.



Kade (Resisting love Book 2)




You met Kade and Nikki in "Chase". Now it’s time for their story. 

Nikki works hard and plays even harder. A fan of no attachment type relationships, Nikki is nowhere near ready to settle down or commit to one man. What she doesn’t expect is Kade. A one night stand she can’t quite shake, Kade is a ladies’ man and the brother in law of her best friend. Will she be able to resist him? Or will Nikki take a chance on love with a notorious player? 

After making a promise years ago to his now fallen best friend, Kade swore he would take care of Ashley. But what happens when Ashley has an agenda of her own? Will Kade let his promise to his best friend ruin things with the love of his life? 

Recommended for readers aged 18+




Derek (Resisting love Book 4)



Rylie Sullivan hasn’t had an easy life. She is broken, so broken she doesn’t think she will ever be fixed. When she meets Derek, he barges into her life and tries to break down the walls she has so carefully construed to keep what’s left of her safe. When Rylie’s past mixes with her present, will Derek stand by her and help her survive? Or will he bail for the next pretty thing? 

Derek Tremaine has had it easy. Coming from a wealthy family and blessed with good looks, Derek has breezed through life. After years of one night stands, and a few half ass attempts at relationships, Derek has almost given up on ever finding the woman for him. When he sees Rylie however, he can’t help but be drawn to her. Rylie is different, more so than any other person Derek has met. Rylie’s beauty- her tattoos, piercings and beautiful blonde dreads drew him in, but it’s her sweet, kind nature that makes him want to stay around and protect her. Winning Rylie’s heart will be his greatest challenge yet, but Derek knows the reward will be more than worth it. 
Which is why Derek has no intentions of letting her go. 






Sunday, November 9, 2014

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Misguided cover




misguidedsynop

A biker: Lucas “Mortician” Banks stopped believing in love after a bitter betrayal. As Club Enforcer, the Death Dwellers MC is his home, where no rules exist and brotherhood rule. He never expected to fall for the daughter of K-P Andrews, a biker from the old guard, who is now deceased. Is love enough to survive secrets, brutality, and betrayal?

A beauty: Bailey Andrews was fascinated by the biker from the first moment they met. She seized the opportunity to have his phone number and, somehow, ended up married to him when she accompanied Mortician on a run to Las Vegas. She uncovers the connection between her father and Mortician’s father and the horrible betrayals it led to within the MC. Can she leave the secrets stay buried? Or will she expose them and ruin her marriage to the only man she’ll ever love?

A bet: Smug in his assumption he’d never fall as hard for as woman as his Prez fell for a girl, Mortician put his money where his mouth was and made that bet. With 20Gs on the line and two weeks left before he wins or loses, Mortician has to decide if Bailey and their marriage is more important or saving face and keeping his money. Having only ever seen the destruction of love gone wrong, what will Mortician decide?

A baby: Now, Bailey’s pregnant with his baby and hiding another detrimental secret that she, herself, recently discovered. Will she have to choose between her life and the baby’s? Or will she find a way to save both herself and her child’s? Warning: This is a brutal tale of worlds colliding—a mega-church with the command to destroy, powerful men with their own agendas, and raw and dirty bikers who will win at all costs. Contains violence, drug use, and excessive foul language.

 
Excerpt
3:33AM
 
Every decision for life-changing events happened at 3:33 in the morning.
 
Or so his father claimed.
 
To Mortician, though, three thirty three represented something different. Symbolized half of evil and, when put together, created a whole.
 
Six fucking six six, divided by two, equaled half of fucking Satan. Fitting. Sharper and Charlemagne Banks equaled the demonic fucking duo. One couldn’t work without the other. Therefore, life-changing events always took place at three fucking thirty-three—because Fat & Skinny, Evil & Eviler, Slicker & Slickest, worked together.
 
Muscles twitching in anger, Mortician hunkered down in the pew, glaring at the overcrowded pulpit and searching the choir stand for Char as Sharper’s voice droned on.
 
Mortician had spent too many Sundays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays in this fucking building. As the membership grew and Sharper’s pockets swelled, their status inched up. And the fucking deceit went out of control.
 
A flash of silver material caught his eye and Mortician shifted, angling his head to get a better glimpse of her. Char. Still gorgeous with her dusky skin, high cheekbones, and slanted eyes. Bitch couldn’t compare to Bailey, though.
 
Not wanting to think of Bailey right now because he needed to keep calm to get to her, Mortician gritted his teeth and shifted, scowling at the imperious lift of the brow from the older suited-up motherfucker next to him. Suit and tie bent and whispered something to his wife and she peeked around her husband. She was younger, could have been his daughter, except for the way the man buzzed her lips with his own.
 
Unable to help himself, Mortician winked at her. Sadity, stuck-up, society bitch, who would open her legs to him in a minute. He tried his best to stay away from married bitches, a certain cop’s wife being the exception.
 
The nose-far-enough-in-the-air-to-drown-in-a-drizzle motherfucker angled his body toward Mortician in clear warning.
 
He wanted a dick measuring contest here? In church? Really?
 
If not for the maid he’d bribed—well, the knife to her throat had helped—he’d be bored as a motherfucker listening to his father’s baritone voice singing Praise Is What I Do.
 
He needed to act normal. If his dad thought for one minute that Mortician knew he had Bailey, he’d give the order and have her killed.
 
That thought fucked with his head, so Mortician leaned over to fuck with Mr. Asshole and Mrs. Sadity. “If your dick too limp from all the steroids you must fucking take to get so built, I’ll fuck her for you.”
 
Anger lit the man’s dark eyes. Finally, some fucking entertainment. But it didn’t ease the ache in Mortician’s chest.
 
He needed Bailey.
No. He needed to get Bailey safe. He didn’t need her. He’d needed his mother and he’d needed Charlemagne and he’d had his heart ripped out both times.
 
Give it up, asshole. You need Bailey. You want her. You love her.
 
So now he was hearing romantic fucking voices in his head? Fuck off. He’d prefer to talk to his dick. Once upon a time, he’d named it Roscoe.
 
Had he ever told Bailey that his dick’s name was Roscoe? Had he even remembered? There wasn’t much he remembered when he was around Bailey. She consumed him.
 
Mortician shook a little, almost unable to remain in his seat and pretend she wasn’t somewhere in one of the million rooms of this mega-church.
 
He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But, mostly, he wanted to fucking kill. And he would. Brutally and viciously. Slowly and methodically.
 

 
 


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                Misguided Book Trailer



Series Trailer
 
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misguidedabout
 
Kathryn Kelly is living her dream and writing books. She's always been an avid reader and still devours books in her spare time. She also enjoys football, socializing, music, eating, and jokes. In her head, she's the ultimate biker babe. In reality, she's an ordinary girl-next-door and a native New Orleanian.
 

Other Books by Kathryn Kelly


 

Series order:

Misled #1 Release date: December 5, 2013 H/h: Christopher & Megan

Misappropriate #1.5 Release date: February 14, 2014 H/h: Christopher & Megan
Misunderstood #2 Release date: April 5, 2014 H/h: Johnnie & Kendall
Misdeeds #2.5 Release date: June 5, 2014 H/H: Johnnie & Kendall
Misbehavior #3 Release date: September 17, 2014 H/h: Val & Zoann
Misjudged #3.5 Release date: November 10, 2014 H/h: Christopher & Megan
Misguided #4 Release date: December 5, 2014 H/h: Mortician & Bailey
Misconduct #5 Release date: TBA H/h: Digger & Peyton
Misfit #5.5 Release date: TBA H/H/h: Stretch, Cash & Ophelia

 

 

misled misappropriate misunderstoo misdeeds misbehavior
 
 
 
 


 
 
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Misjudged Excerpt

WARNING:
CONTAINS SPOILERS PERTAINING TO PREVIOUS BOOKS IN THE SERIES.
 
 
Chapter One: More
Christopher “Outlaw” Caldwell felt like pulling out his nine and shooting the fuck out of himself. The breeze blew through his hair while, behind him, the setting sun sank beneath the horizon, heralding in the first glimpse of nighttime. All around him, ridiculous fucking music—annoying like a motherfucker—and the voices of gleeful kids, excited babies, and overwhelmed parents kept him alert.
He wanted to motherfucking leave this bullshit amusement park, the last fucking place in the world he wanted to fucking be.
“Christopher!” Megan called, her tone filled with beautiful, fucking happiness, a sound he hadn’t heard from his wife in fucking weeks. Her carefree joy almost made this fucking torture worthwhile.
All-fucking-most.
For this bullshit, Megan would have to…
What…?
She already did what he asked of her, so spending the evening at an amusement park racing her in stupid fucking go-carts, feeling fucking ridiculous on the Ferris wheel, wanting to slap the fuck out of two dickheads screaming like pussified girls on the rollercoaster, and fucking with arcade games, shouldn’t have been such a pain in the fucking balls. He’d had enough miniature golf and bumper cars to last a fucking lifetime. And the fucking shame of the goddamn carousel.
The carou-fucking-sel. He’d sat in one of the carriages with Megan snuggled close to him, her eyes bright and sparkling.
They’d already been there for three fucking hours and he was considering having this motherfucker blown to bits and fucking pieces so Megan would never, fucking ever-ever-ever, get it in her head for them to have a motherfucking date here again.
Fucking never.
Every-fucking time, they ended up back at these motherfuckers. The go-carts. After the third fucking time stuffed into those small fuckers, he wised the fuck up and let Megan win. It became fucking clear to Christopher she wouldn’t move on until she beat him.
Climbing out of the cramped space and squelching the urge to kick the fuck out of the go-cart, he rolled his shoulders, moving off the platform and onto the solid ground, needing a fucking cigarette as much as he needed a fucking drink. Motherfuckers didn’t even fucking have the decency to sell fucking beer.
“I win!” Megan squealed, reaching him, jumping into his arms and kissing his face. He settled his hands on her ass. His dick jumped at the feel of her. “I told you I could beat you.”
Not answering, he sat her on her feet and dragged her toward the adjoining park. The deeper he pulled her into the dark and silent stands of trees, the tighter her fingers clutched his hand. Once he decided they were far enough away from everybody, he stopped and drew her into his arms, kissing her deeply. She tasted so fucking sweet, like the Dots candy she’d eaten a little while ago. He tongued her lips, wishing it was her pussy instead.
“Can we fuckin’ go now?” he asked, groaning when she wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked against him.
Her arms settled around his neck. One arm around her body, he cradled the back of her head with his other hand. As relaxed as her body felt against him, he knew she was genuinely enjoying herself. It had been days since she felt so pliant. Three fucking days to be exact. Ever since his fucking MC had been raided by law enforcement and she and his sister, Zoann, were there without him.
Working to put the club back together had been nonstop. Many of the walls had been destroyed, furniture—mattresses, sofas, chairs—ripped apart, clothes thrown aside. Some, like his, had even been shredded. After all the other bullshit that went on the past weeks, Christopher decided Megan needed a break. Over breakfast, he’d asked if going out for an evening would get her mind off every-fucking-thing. Just to take a fucking break, all of them had gone their separate fucking ways to wind down. She’d wanted to bring his boy with them, but he decided she’d needed a break from CJ, too.
Arrow, Bowlie, and Cowboy had stayed on premises to keep watch and listen out for Dinah. Johnnie had done a turnaround, just staying in Hawaii long enough to visit his bitch, and then hop the fuck back on the plane after Christopher told him what the fuck went down. Although he wouldn’t have put it past Johnnie to weasel his fucking way to wherever Megan chose, Christopher hadn’t had to punch Johnnie for making any such underhanded moves. He was with Val, Zoann, Mortician, Stretch and Ghost at a biker rally.
Christopher would’ve fucked John Boy up, too, cuz he was still harboring fucking resentment about the ‘I’m human’ comment the assfuck had made about Megan.
Christopher was fucking human, too, and there was only so much fucking bullshit he’d take from Johnnie. He already tolerated that fucking cunt on his behalf. He wasn’t about to put up with the fuckhead still pining for his wife, too.
Even if Christopher ended at stupid fucking amusement parks with Megan.
Fuck him, when he’d suggested this, he’d been thinking mainly of Megan, but he’d never fucking expected her to suggest a fucking amusement park and arcade.
He touched his forehead to hers, just able to make out her golden hair and skin in the darkness. She pressed a kiss on the bridge between his neck and shoulder, hardening his cock all the more.
“I want some pussy, Megan,” he growled, caressing her denim-covered ass, the jeans she wore tantamount to a chastity belt and frustrating the motherfuck out of him.
She rolled her pussy against him and nipped his chin, the feel of her teeth driving him fucking insane. He sucked the delicate skin of her neck.
“Wanna get anything from me?”
“Yeah,” she breathed on a groan. “I want some dick from you, Christopher.”
Her saucy response pulled laughter from him as he set her on her feet and got to work on her jeans.  Once he got them down around her knees, he turned her and urged her to bend over with a hand over her back. He dipped his finger into her pussy, thumbing her clit. The moment he made her come, he took out his dick and buried it inside of her tender warmth, his grunt drowning out her sigh. Gripping her hips, he pumped into her, caught in the grip of her sweet pussy.
Cum already bubbled up, so Christopher knew he wouldn’t last long. He fingered her clit and she moaned, pushing into one of his thrusts.
“Let your pussy come for me, Megan,” he encouraged, fisting one hand in her silky hair.
A moment later, she shuddered against him, releasing a soft cry. At the sound of her release, he stiffened and trembled, cum shooting from him.
Slowly, the sounds of night returned to him. Katydids, crickets, bullfrogs. In the distance, sounds from the amusement park, faint music, voices, vehicles.
Breathing hard, he freed Megan, slowly removing his dick out of her and stuffing it back in his jeans. Once he put himself to rights, he helped her repair her own clothes, smoothing her hair, jeans, and T-shirt, guided by instinct rather than sight. Properly clothed again, Megan snaked her arms around him and he kissed the top of her head. Fucking her had released the tension of the trauma caused by how he’d spent his evening.
“Can we fuckin’ go now, baby?” It was her deal, so he wouldn’t mention the biker rally. That’s where he wanted to be.
“What do you want to do now?”
Her whisper in her just-fucked voice caressed his senses. He brought his fingers, coated with her pussy juice, to his nose and inhaled, the scent of her cunt hardening his dick again. “What the fuck you think?”
Megan giggled, a nineteen-year-old having fun and making out with her lover in some forbidden place. In that moment, she didn’t sound like who she was—his wife—the old lady of a motherfucker like him and mother of their son. “Not that,” she chastised.
“Give me pussy and your beautiful fuckin’ smile and I’m a happy motherfucker, so this night for you.” She’d already given him both, so he was fucking delirious with joy.
For tonight, their problems were lost in the noise and lights of their surroundings. Tomorrow, would bring in more work. More problems. More of Megan wanting another baby. Just fucking more.
She hadn’t spoken about it in four days, since the night of his ill-planned party where he’d tried to shut her out. But he knew her.
He. Knew. Her.
His heart plummeted at what he intended without her knowledge. A vasectomy he hadn’t ever discussed with her.
The appointment was wrong like a motherfucker. They kept everything out in the open between them and never lied to each other. That was the reason they worked so fucking well. But he’d prefer to pretend to be trying for another baby and know that would never happen then to see the sadness in her eyes over not only their lost son, but the baby she mightn’t ever get to have.
Maybe, he was setting her up for another heartbreak. And, maybe, he’d found the key to help ease her hurt a little more.
This entire fucking shit exhausted the fuck out of him. He fucking preferred fucking fights and gun battles to what he’d gone through over the last few months. To what he’d helplessly watched his girl go through.
Guilt rushed Christopher and he sighed. “What do you want to do?” he asked her again, loving the fuck out of her even if he could do without the emotion it took to have her and love her.
Silence. Christopher hoped like fuck her silence meant she wanted to give him more pussy. He tucked strands of golden hair behind her ear.
This night was for him and Megan minus the fuckups. Vasectomies, dead babies, and human motherfuckers wouldn’t intrude. Taking her hand, he guided her back to the amusement park and headed to the parking area. At his Harley, he seated himself and she climbed behind him. For once, he’d allowed her to go without a helmet, understanding her need to feel the wind in her hair and the air kissing her face. The open road invigorated him and made him feel alive. Free.
Megan needed the same thing. Glancing over his shoulder, the sight of her swollen lips and flushed cheeks satisfied him. He lifted a brow, her love for him so stark in her eyes his chest hurt. Another burst of guilt at his scheduled vasectomy. Megan fucking trusted him. Could he really…?
Who the fuck was he kidding? He’d manipulate the fuck out of any situation to keep Megan safe and happy. No, he’d manipulate shit to keep Megan. Period.
“So whatcha wanna do, baby?” he asked gruffly.
“Take me to a hangout you would’ve gone to before we met,” Megan said softly, her smile blinding him, her expression unreadable.
A hangout before they met would’ve consisted of bars, strip clubs, and other clubhouses. Nothing he wanted her around. “Megan—“
“Please?”
The word pierced his resistance as much as the feel of her arms around his waist and her cheek on his middle rocker.
Fuck, still not what he wanted to hear. She’d fucking offered him to go where the fuck he wanted and, like a dickhead, he’d insisted she choose. How the fuck was their fucking thinking getting so the fuck far apart from one another?
Sighing, Christopher nodded, wondering if those fucking go-carts had fucked up his brain. No, his fucked up clubhouse was fucking up his brain at the moment. The brothers discovering he’d gone to a fucking amusement park like a fucking thirteen-year-old. Fuck, even when he’d been thirteen, he hadn’t done this ridiculous bullshit.
Now, Megan wanted to go to one of the places he’d gone to drink, fuck, fight, or make deals.
“What kinda places you like to hang out at? Let’s go somewhere like that.”
Tension settled into her body and seeped into his.
“Well,” she began in a small voice, “I’ve never gone to a nightclub or anything. I-I’ve gone to bars with you, but I never had before. I’m not even legal to drink.” The last, she finished on a mumble.
Well, fuck.
 
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