Wednesday, June 25, 2014


The covers are being redesigned because my previous theme was coming to an end with the release of Misbehavior. Crystal Cuffley and I spent hours searching for a couple to fit Mortician's and Bailey's descriptions (for Misguided). We never found it. We did, however, find the perfect photo to use on the cover for Misguided. That meant we'd have to redesign all the covers or have part of the series with one theme and the other covers with another. No need to say what I chose to do because the proof is in the covers.

I'm excited to show off Misunderstood's new cover. In fact, I'm so excited I'm including the Spotify playlist! A word about my playlists. I thrive on music. Misunderstood's playlist is THE shortest in the history of my playlist creating. If you follow the other playlists in the series, you know most of them are 2-3 hours. Even then it is, perhaps, a third of the songs I listen to while writing. Considering the storyline, Blurred Lines and Happy might seem inappropriate. I listened to those songs and thought of Mortician. My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark...that's Outlaw all the way. However, for me, it applies to Johnnie in Chapters 16 and 22. Timber is for Meggie when she introduces herself to Kendall...although I know the words in the song mean something completely different.

Johnnie “John-boy” Donovan is the new VP of the Death Dwellers’ MC and while the club president, his cousin Christopher “Outlaw” Caldwell is on his honeymoon Johnnie is left in charge. With Outlaws return just a week away, he just wants things to run smoothly without a hitch, but trouble is brewing for the Death Dwellers and an evil from his past may be back to haunt him.
 Kendal Miller an attorney and the ex-girlfriend to Spoon the club President of The Torpedoes’ MC. She is in over way over her head and when her little sister is taken Kendall needs to do whatever it takes to get the information on the Death Dwellers’ Club before it’s too late.
Can Johnnie trust the mysterious red haired woman who showed up naked to his cousin’s bachelor party? Can Kendall rely on the handsome blond biker that made a lasting impression on her mind, body and heart to help her get her sister back?
Lives will be lost and hearts will be broken in the third book of The Death Dwellers MC Series. Warning: FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. CONTAINS PHYSICAL ABUSE, VIOLENCE, RAPE, AND EXCESSIVE PROFANITY.


I’ve looked around and envied others the solid ground on which they grew up. Because, I know, as with all shaky foundations, eventually the walls come tumbling down and secrets are brought to light. I feel the tick-tock of the clock, the sands of time slipping away granule by granule. Miniscule time bombs awaiting detonation. Finally, the day I’ve feared arrives. The explosions rocks our world.

Now, everyone will discover I’m not the perfect, easy-going man I project myself to be. They will see that evil lurks from within—my family and my heart.

Because my family is different.

We are founded and forged in heartache and betrayal.

Unless I intercede, so will we be destroyed by the same.

A sound awakened Kendall Miller and she sat up, blinking, before stretching her arms above her head. A blond man stood in the center of the room, his silver-gray gaze never leaving her as he withdrew a cigarette from his cut and lit it.

She studied the burning tip, the flame consuming the paper and tobacco, before it dwindled down to a fiery glow. Smoke plumed into the air and Kendall stared at the evaporating curlicues, transfixed at the tangible metaphor of what her life had become. Despair washed through her and everything rushed back. Her failure tonight made her ache inside and undermined the sliver of peace she’d somehow acquired a little while ago, when she’d first stepped into this room.

She didn’t want to think of the consequences if she didn’t get to the bed of the Death Dwellers’ president. 

Hugging her arms around her waist, she thought of another MC leader. Her ex-lover. Days ago, she’d gotten over the pain of his multiple betrayals, a blessed numbness consuming her. She’d thought she’d finally found a man who understood her and would protect her at any and all costs. But, no, Spoon had cheated on her, lied to her, and stolen her heart and soul—her little sister—and handed her over to him.

Kendall clasped her fingers together, biting the inside of her cheek to prevent more gut-wrenching sobs from pushing through. She had to get Caroline back. Their mother, Marie, doted on her. Besides, just the thought of her sixteen-year-old sister’s predicament clung to Kendall’s soul, unleashing deep desperation inside of her.

She’d experienced Spoon’s unsympathetic beliefs firsthand. Compared to Logan Donovan, though, her rat-fink-bastard-ex could’ve been canonized one day. Logan Donavan, a man she’d spoke to over the telephone but never met face-to-face, epitomized a monster, plain and simple. A web of nerves, unease and anxiety tangling though her, Kendall lifted her gaze to the beautiful man watching her.

Another chill slithered down her back, her thoughts exploding with the repercussions if she couldn’t correct her mistake. Repercussions not only for herself, whom she barely cared about anymore, but for Caroline.

She had to get her little sister back.


A brow lifted and heat rushed to Kendall’s cheeks, his lingering glance and overwhelming presence unnerving her.

“Hello,” he responded, his voice full of dark temptation.

Her hair must’ve been a mess. Considering everything else, the innocuous thought surprised her. Coiffures should’ve been the last thing on her mind. In this life or death situation, the need to have him find her attractive felt ridiculous. Before tonight, she’d never met the man and, more than likely, he’d forget her the moment she escaped him.

She combed her fingers through her hair, arranged the entire length over one shoulder, covering a breast.

He folded his arms and crossed one ankle over the other, leaning against the desk holding the stereo system.

His arrogant nonchalance and golden beauty enhanced her appreciation of him. Judging by his slow perusal and remembering how he’d calmed the club president a little while ago, she suspected the twinkle in his silver-gray eyes hid his fathomless depths.

Waiting for her, contemplating her, he displayed surprising patience. He didn’t yell. Or insult her. His all-consuming gaze burned into her and she licked her lips, the hard knot in her belly dissolving into tingles.

Needing to reclaim her rapidly failing senses, Kendall noted his sparse furnishings. A bed. A chest of drawers. A desk. That was about it. He swallowed the space, though, filled it with his presence.

She lowered her lashes, flustered. Tall and chiseled, his build screamed strength and power. His forbidding jawline and full lips were pure artistic refinement. She’d never seen a more gorgeous man. His lips curved into a devastating smile, revealing white, even teeth. Ever so slowly, the smile changed to a frown. She hadn’t uttered another word since their greetings.

She licked her lips, her body responding to his virility.

Focus, Kendall. Focusing would be the only way to get herself in the right man’s bed.

Even before he’d snatched Caroline, Spoon hadn’t touched her in weeks. She shoved aside her humiliation at his reasons. Although he didn’t want her, he’d sent her to another man rather than touch her himself, as she’d offered, in exchange for her little sister.

The man he’d sent her to knocked her flat on her ass because he’d been furious that someone would send another woman to him knowing he had a wife.

Kendall wished for such loyalty.

The big biker straightened, his movements and withdrawal catching her attention. If he no longer wanted her, she’d be free to find the president again and complete the job she’d been sent to do.  She didn’t want the other man, though. From the moment the blond biker jerked her to her feet and placed his body in front of hers, Kendall had felt something she hadn’t in a very long time. Protected.

For a few, brief minutes, her mind had been blank of her ruined world and her ravaged sister. When he’d directed her to his room, she’d obeyed without thought, fatigue consuming her. Heavy makeup covered the dark rings around her eyes, proof she hadn’t slept in days.

So, instead of attempting to find the president’s bedroom when she had the chance, she’d come in here. And fallen asleep.  After weeks—months—of turmoil, she’d walked into this stranger’s room, laid on his bed, and found comfort.

Certifiable. Selfish. Bad.

Kendall grimaced at Spoon’s labels. A man was out there, waiting to get photos of her and the Dwellers’ president in bed together. Her little sister, Caroline, was being held and used until Kendall delivered what had been asked of her. Going to the police was out of the question—if she wanted Caroline to survive. And, yet…YET…desire was pooling in her belly and tightening her core. For a stranger. The wrong stranger.

That stranger roamed around, his movements a coordination of agility and strength. He pulled out the drawers in the chest, eyed the inside, before rubbing his fingertips against every inch of the wood, then repeated the process at his desk and the headboard of his bed. Ignoring their close proximity, he went through the bewildering process all over again.

Unable to stop herself, she followed the path of his hand, imagining his fingertips skimming over her body. His heat surrounded her, the different smells emanating from him zinging to her head. Alcohol. Marijuana. A hint of spicy cologne. Sweat. And him.

She chewed on her bottom lip as With Arms Wide Open began to play and he stilled, frowning and backing away from the bed. Though he looked in her direction, Kendall doubted he actually saw her. He scrubbed a big hand over his face at certain lines and sighed with heartfelt emotion. Towards the end of the song, his nostrils flared, the bleakness in his eyes calling to her.

“Are you all right?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Who the fuck sent you?”

The hairs on her nape stood at the harsh question. One, he’d asked it and, two, she’d somehow given herself away, leaving her with no good answer. She wanted to shout, bad men, the simplest explanation. The truth had isolated her for five, miserable days with Kendall no closer to getting Caroline back. 

Unless she got this right. On the other hand, this motorcycle club had gotten on Logan Donovan’s bad side, too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been going out of his way to destroy the president.

Another lift of that imperious blond brow made her scramble for a credible response. She had to say something. She hadn’t slept enough to be at the top of her game. With the exhaustion clouding her mind and delaying her responses, she wasn’t even hovering near the bottom.

“Whoever sent the others. I’m not sure. I’m a freelancer and one of the other girls couldn’t make it, so my friend called me. Asked me if I wanted to take the chick’s place. And here I am.”

“So no one hired you to fuck Outlaw?”

No. Truth. Nothing as mundane as monetary compensation orchestrated this life or death, do or die, situation. “Why would someone hire me for that?”

“To fuck with his relationship with his wife.”

Tread with care. The biker’s brain matched his brawn. “Seems silly,” she got out in a strong voice. “She’s not here, is she? How would that interfere with their marriage?”

The question sounded ridiculous even to her stressed-out, overwrought mind. If she ever got married and her husband slept with another woman, her marriage would be interfered with, too.

What was Kendall thinking? This entire evening had the makings of a disaster. She’d left herself open to rape when she’d walked into the clubhouse in only a jacket, her clothes discarded in her car. When she walked in, she’d discarded her jacket on a table and headed directly for the club president, then proceeded to gyrate her naked body on him. He’d gotten an erection, but Kendall was experienced enough to know he hadn’t appreciated it. Someone, mainly her, could’ve gotten seriously hurt if the president had fired his gun.

Shoving the thought aside and determined to brazen it out until she escaped, Kendall continued.

“Besides, she’s a biker’s wife. I’m sure she understands infidelity and betrayal.” She spat the last word because she’d been suckered into believing different. “I was on his lap. I felt his erection. He wanted to fuck me and would have if there hadn’t been all these people here.”

“If you think that, then you’re a goddamn fool. He couldn’t help but get a dick stand with the way you were grinding your pussy against him. But, if he wanted you, he would’ve fucked you and not cared who was here.”

Not knowing how else to stop her rioting emotions or what else to say, Kendall laid back on the bed, opening her legs. Music filled the room and she touched her clit, feeling the bare lips of her pussy. The impulse to ignore her wetness, her hard nipples, almost overcame her. But she’d already made a terrible muck of things tonight and she needed…she needed a moment of peace. A smidgeon of comfort.

She’d blame herself later, figure something out. She didn’t have a law degree for nothing.

She enjoyed sex immensely and would’ve responded to the president, but something about this man made her want him. Really want him. If she wanted to, he’d allow her to walk out. He hadn’t made a move toward her until she began to rub her pussy. Like the whore she was supposed to be.

Not saying a word, he removed his cut and pullover, baring his chest. Kendall’s eyes nearly crossed. Ripped was too tame a word to describe his broad shoulders and bulging arms. His six-pack. Long fingers attached to massive hands. She swallowed as he removed his pants. What…her mouth watered when she saw his cock and she had to rearrange her thoughts. What was the rumor about men with big hands and big feet?

Before she remembered, he’d gloved his cock in a condom and climbed on top of her, settling between her legs.

Surprise broke through the trance the sight of his body had put her in. “We aren’t going to kiss?”

Kendall waited for his reply. She wanted to taste his lips—his entire body. He thumbed her clit and she groaned. Bending his head, he licked her nipple and she grew wetter and hotter. He inserted two, thick fingers inside her body, massaging her inner walls and sucking in a breath. She arched against him and moaned, rocking against his hand. He bit her nipple, increased the pressure of his thumb on her clit, the in-and-out speed of his fingers. A keening wail began to escape her but she bit down on her lip, catching the sound in her throat that his kiss could’ve captured.

Holding her hips in place, he sank into her, filling and stretching her. She brushed her lips against his chest and wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching him tighter to her body, and tilting her pelvis to take him deeper.

“One kiss,” she whispered. “Please.”

Nuzzling her hair, he slid in and out of her, in long, deep strokes. His cock stretched her and trembles pulsed through her. She sighed, forgetting her overwhelming need to kiss him and reveling in his movements inside of her. He skimmed his tongue over her neck, raining kisses down the column of her throat. Small moans of pleasure escaped her and matched his masculine grunts.

Gripping her hips and raising her body for deeper drives, he pushed against her pussy, hitting internal and external points of ecstasy, continuing until her orgasm broke over her and she cried out.

He shuddered and groaned then went still, his breathing hard and heavy.          

A few moments later, he lay next to her, his eyes covered by his forearm. As if he wanted nothing else to do with her now that they’d fucked. And, maybe, he didn’t. She’d seen enough of how men treated club ass at the Torpedoes’ MC.

Indecision tore through her. But, damn it, he’d gotten what he wanted from her. She’d get what she wanted from him. If she never saw him again, she’d regret not tasting him. He’d refused her the opportunity to feel his mouth against her but she wouldn’t leave until she sucked him off.

Turning to her side, she removed the condom and laid it next to her on the bed, not knowing what else to do with it. Then, she leaned over and wrapped her mouth around his dick, immediately relaxing her throat to take him deeper, satisfied at his grunt. He moved, raising up on his elbows. The thought of him watching her while she pleasured him sent another rush of wetness between her legs. Her cheeks hollowed, so she could suck him hard, for her and himself. She wanted to give him a performance worth watching—worth repeating—and she wanted to swallow every last drop of cum he had to offer, so she suctioned him without mercy. He fisted her hair and wrapped it around his hand, pulling on her head. Her scalp tingled from the tug, but the moves prompted her to harder and faster sucks, while he pumped his hips to her deep slurps.

“Ah! Fuck!” Tightening his grip on her hair, he held her head in place, thrusting into her aching mouth as cum jetted from him. His dick remained in her mouth until his breathing slowed. Only then did he pull away and release her hair.

Kendall sat back on her haunches and licked her lips, dizzy from the salty-sweet taste of him. “Now will you kiss me?” she whispered.

Though she hadn’t expected those words to fall from her lips, she didn’t want her time with him to end. She wanted to stay in there, protected and safe. But that couldn’t happen as long as Caroline was away and would never happen even afterwards.

Hands behind his head, he popped an eye open and smirked at her. “You want a kiss, baby?”

She nodded.

“Come here.”

Too aroused to be ashamed of her body, she crawled next to him, her breasts hanging, hovering near his mouth. He sat further up and sucked a tight nipple into his mouth while guiding her onto her back. She moaned at the gentleness with which he handled her.

 He raised his head. Kendall had never seen a man wear a combination of mirth, arrogance and certainty so well. “If you want a kiss, gorgeous, I’ll give you a kiss you won’t forget.”

Her breath caught and her mouth tingled in expectation. Until she realized the direction he was going. Down instead of up. The first couple times she and Spoon had been together, he’d used his mouth on her and never enough for her to get any real enjoyment. Only enough to get her wet.

Now, though, her blond god ran his tongue along her feminine seem at the same time her spread her legs wide, exposing her pussy to him completely. He tongued her sensitive outer lips, then used his rough fingertips to open them. He licked his way around the inner folds, circling her clit but never quite touching it. Fire singed her nerve endings and she trembled, goose bumps marching across every inch of her skin. He speared his tongue into her pussy and she screamed.

“My God,” she groaned, shivering, moving against his mouth. “Who taught you to eat pussy like this?”

He didn’t answer her, not that she really wanted one.  When he removed his tongue from her, she had to bite her own to keep from begging him to continue. Just as the thought crossed her mind, he pushed the hood of her clit back, exposing the most sensitive part of her and gave her what she’d asked for—a kiss. He pressed kiss after kiss against her before lapping. This wasn’t what she’d meant, but she’d take it. Jesus, yes, she’d take this type of kiss if that’s what he wanted.

Kendall’s womb tightened and she hissed in a breath. She thrashed against him and tugged at his hair, her legs trembling through her orgasm. Explosions rocketed through her being, shooting her to the moon and back.

Before she recovered completely, he blew on her clit and spread her ass cheeks. He inserted a finger in each part of her and began swiping his tongue over her clit, massaging the thin membrane separating her pussy and ass, keeping her in place by pressing his other hand against her belly.

She screamed and cried and shivered, the pleasure he inflicted upon her body sweet torture. He refused her any mercy, removing his fingers but not his mouth, allowing her to fuck his face, sucking and licking her until she couldn’t take anymore.

“Stop! Please,” she begged and moaned when he pulled away, relieved and disappointed too. Falling back against the pillows, she closed her eyes, hearing his movement.

He rolled onto her and she opened her legs, weak and completely submissive to him. He positioned her feet upon his shoulders and slammed into her over and over again. She was too soaked for his massive size to cause her any pain with his deep, powerful thrusts into her. He shifted, allowed her to lower her legs and wrap them around his waist. She tried to kiss him, but he bent his head and rested it against her shoulder. Kendall wrapped her arms around his sweaty back, running her fingers along the curvature of his spine, squeezing his hard ass as he pumped in and out of her. She couldn’t stop the little noises in the back of her throat, couldn’t stop herself from fingering his damp hair. She wanted to touch every part of him, remember this beautiful man forever.

He bit her ear, fingered her clit until she reached her orgasm, then emptied into the condom.

After a few moments, he got up and disappeared into the bathroom. When nothing else in the world had broken her, tonight, in a stranger’s arms, he’d brought her to the brink of collapsing. She had to hold it together, though. Just until she left here. As she sat up, the thought made her shiver because he was finished with her. He’d make her go back out there, where all those lusty bikers were, with the scent of sex clinging to her body. She wasn’t claimed by anyone, though, leaving her fair game.

He sauntered back into the room and she realized she’d get no more than she deserved for coming here in the first place. She’d made the choices leading her to this point in her life. She never should’ve come there with the intentions she’d had. It might’ve solved her problems, but it would’ve devastated another woman.  He got his cigarettes and offered her one but she shook her head. She didn’t smoke.

“I-I need to leave,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

“I…my clothes are in my car and my jacket is somewhere out in the main room,” she said, a gentle way of reminding him if he stayed in his room she’d have to walk back out there naked and with everyone thinking her a whore sent out for the bachelor party.

He sucked on his cigarette, considering her. Not saying a word, he reached for his jeans and pulled them on. When he yanked open a desk drawer, something stopped him in his tracks and Kendall would’ve killed to know what had put such longing on his face. Probably, another woman, she realized with a pang. No way a man who looked like him and treated a woman whom he believed a whore with such overwhelming regard for her pleasure, remained single.

He swallowed, his strong throat moving with the motion. He closed the drawer and faced her. Kendall’s blood ran cold when she saw his gun. God, what was he going to do to her? Her imagination running wild, she made a sound of distress. Sighing, he shoved the weapon into the waistband of his pants.

“I don’t kill or hurt women. Who the hell knows what’s going on out there by now? I might have to pistol whip some asshole or shoot the shit out of them as I escort you to your car.”

The relief inside her almost made her sag. She wanted to tell him thank you and ask for his permission to see him again. She knew it would only be for sex, but, right now, in the haze of her orgasms, she couldn’t think clearly. She couldn’t think beyond the fact that, once she left him, it would be the end of this magical night.

As if to illustrate his view on women, he handed her a shirt and a pair of shorts. Once she’d put them on—and exalted in the fact that they were slightly big on her—he led her out of the room. When they reached the entry point to the main room, Kendall swallowed. Tonight, her salivary glands were working overtime but writhing bodies and women on their knees servicing men and…the entire situation had spiraled out of control. She glanced around the room, unable to stop herself, and saw no sign of the black-haired, green-eyed president who was a dream to look at himself. He…

“Hey, babe,” a female voice said, drawing Kendall’s attention to two naked girls. They were average sized and had absolutely no regard to her presence. “Ready to have some fun with us like we talked about last time we were here?”

He winked at them and they both giggled. “Not tonight.”

Of course not tonight. He was a biker. Women threw themselves at these men and they happily accepted.

They started moving again, then paused a moment later.

“She’s with me, Bowlie,” he said, placing his big body between her and the other biker, confusing her all the more. She had to remind herself she couldn’t look at this situation from a female mindset and misconstrue this one-night stand as the beginning to something lasting. Sex and love were two different things, which Kendall was old enough to remember without blurring the lines between the two.

“Th-thank you,” she said the moment they left the moans and groans and filthy words of the clubhouse behind and reached the outdoors. She breathed in the fresh air, not even caring it was cold and foggy.

They stared at one another when they reached her car.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right to drive?” he asked, further drawing her to him. The moment she drove away from him, her senses would return. They had to. “We can go back to my room. Spend the night together.” He shrugged. “Talking. Drinking. Having sex. Your choice.”

Her choice. Those words sounded like heaven to her. Yes, with him, he’d allowed it to be her choice. Not because he was an asshole bent on control. Spotlights glimmered around them and burned through the low fog, silhouetting his chiseled features. His tempting lips. “Kissing?”

The wind howled and cold blasted her skin. She only wore shorts and a t-shirt and it was freezing.  She hugged her arms around her waist.

“No,” he answered. “I’ll kiss your pussy. The lovely globes of your ass cheeks. I’ll lick you from your toes all the way up to your thighs. But kiss you? No. That I won’t do.”

Her nipples hardened and her pussy readied for him to put action to words. Remembering the intensity of the orgasms he’d given her, her lips parted, the cold air burning her cheeks. She wanted to kiss him, though. Why? She wasn’t sure. She licked her lips, hoping he’d bring her back inside once she pointed something out to him.

“Not even to keep me out of this weather? Keep me here and safe?”

He lifted a brow. “It’s your life, gorgeous. If you want to gamble with it by attempting to manipulate me into giving you your way, that’s your business.”

Raising her chin and chastened by his response, she thinned her lips.

“I want you safe,” he reiterated.

She bit down on her lower lip, trying to hide her shock. Not too many people concerned themselves with her safety and no one saw beneath the surface of the career woman she showed the world to her inner vulnerability.

Before she processed it all and told him she’d return inside with him, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her, kissing her temple. “Thank you, gorgeous,” he whispered, caressing her cheek. “I had a wonderful time with you.”

She nodded, not missing the dismissal in his tone. “Same here.”

Using her keyless entry, she unlocked her door. As if they’d been on a date, he opened the door and held it until she got in. She smiled at him, not knowing what else to do.

He gave her a two-fingered salute and Kendall drove away, saying a silent goodbye to that beautiful man.


Monday, June 23, 2014


Megan “Meggie” Foy has had a tough life. Her home life is nothing as it seems. Living with her mother and step-father is a complete nightmare.  They seem to have the perfect little family, but appearances can be deceiving and monsters are closer than you think.  When her body and mind can take no more abuse at the hands of her step-father, Meggie finally decides to run, hoping her father, MC President of the Death Dwellers’ Joseph "Boss" Foy, can save her and rescue her terrified mother from the clutches of her step-monster, before it's too late for them.

Christopher “Outlaw” Caldwell deals in a world of violence, sex, drugs, and crudity. As current president of the Death Dwellers' MC, he presides over a club in chaos after the death of their longtime president and his mentor, Joseph "Boss" Foy. Outlaw is trying to keep everything with the club in his control. What happens when more trouble arises in the form of a blonde haired, 18 year old, beauty with the same eyes as his former mentor?

Meggie discovers her daddy is gone and now there may be no one to save her and her mother. How will she feel when she finds out the man who killed him is the man she's falling in love with? Can Outlaw get past his demons to truly find love with Meggie and peace with the death of Boss Foy? Alliances will be made, loyalties tested, lives will be lost, but will love conquer all in the world of bikers and revenge?

Purchase it here:

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Misled Trailer - Death Dwellers Book 1

UNEDITED Excerpt from Misguided.


Every decision for life-changing events happened at 3:33 in the morning.
Or so his father claimed.
To Lucas “Mortician” Banks, though, three thirty three represented something different. Symbolized half of evil and, when put together, created a whole.
Six fucking six six. 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, 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 his 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 motherfucker angled his body toward Mortician in clear warning.
He wanted a dick measuring contest here? In church? Really?
Bored as a motherfucker listening to his father’s baritone voice singing Praise Is What I Do, Mortician leaned over. “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.
“See Reverend Banks? That’s my fucking pa, so my dick’ll be as golden as yours.” Judging by asshole’s Rolex watch, his dick was very golden. Course, motherfuckers liked to front, too. “I got a fucking safe filled with bills.” Truth. From the trust fund his mother had left him. He had several fucking safes stuffed with bills and so did Digger. “Make it fucking easy. I’m a preacher’s son, a fucking biker, and was a fucking music and math major in college. I can be religious, tough, and educated for her, depending on her fantasy.”
The man jumped to his feet and Mortician smirked at him.
“Would you like to meet me outside, sir?” he asked tightly.
Glancing toward the stage, Mortician saw his father zero in on him, watched as Char faltered.
She stilled, her long throat moving. He sat close enough where he didn’t need a monitor to see anyone on the stage, either left in the choir stand or right toward the row of chairs set up for the assistant and visiting ministers. The crowd shouldn’t allow Char to see him, but she did. Her dark gaze landed on him and she sucked in a breath, casting a nervous glance toward Sharper’s back.
Mortician wanted that motherfucker to see him. He wanted to shock the fuck out him. He wanted to knock the fuck out of him.
Three fucking thirty-three. Lying motherfucker. Had he decided to steal Char from Mortician at three fucking thirty-three in the morning? Or, maybe, he settled upon the amount it would take to buy her cooperation and swear to the world the baby in her fucking stomach belonged to Sharper and not Mortician.
Perhaps, at three thirty-three, he’d figured out the number of dick pumps and dick-hardening pills he needed to make his cock work by the time Char reached her thirty-fifth birthday and he reached his fucking seventieth.
Mortician shouldn’t have come here. Why had he?


Friday, June 6, 2014

Unedited excerpt MISBEHAVIOR

WARNING: This is unedited and it contains major triggers. Scene set-up: this is ten years ago. Zoann is seventeen and she just finished with a visit with Christopher and Val.

Giggling—again—Zoann dug her key out of her backpack and unlocked Grand’s door. Although she didn’t recognized the pickup truck in the yard, it didn’t concern her too much. Grand always had gentlemen who visited him.

Stepping into the cool house, Zoann heard the low hum of the kitchen radio.

“Grand!” she called, regretting not inviting Val in. Grand would be so angry with her for her lack of manners. Setting her backpack next to the coat rack, she walked down the hall, ignoring the photos of her, Johnnie, and Patricia on the walls.

Jeez, sometimes Grand could be so weird, proven by the photos. He had four additional granddaughters, a son, and another grandson. Who knew by the photographs on display?

Closer to the kitchen, the cigarette smoke hit her nostrils and the sound of the radio grew louder. Unease slid into Zoann and she counted to ten. Grand’s farm was safe, located on a dirt road and surrounded by fields and trees. There was even an apple orchard on the back of the property, but it had been years since Grand had allowed her near it.

She didn’t care, anymore. The last time she’d gotten close to it, a horrible stench had hit her and she’d almost been sick.

Reaching the kitchen, she found it empty, although a cigarette burned in an ashtray, a plate filled with half eaten cheese and crackers and the stems from grapes, and an empty glass sat on the table.

“Grand?” she called again, her voice cracking.


Releasing a frightened cry, she whirled around and meet a green gaze. Christopher had green eyes, too, but where her brother’s eyes were beautiful, the man before her had eyes like stone. They were flat and emotionless. He had a buzz cut and he might’ve been handsome if he didn’t look so scary.
She backed away, her nerves rising up when she noticed his bare chest. Grand allowed no one to walk around his house so indecent. “Who…who are you?”

“Cee Cee.” He perused her from head to toe.

Another inch back. All she needed was get to the phone and call Mama, ask her to come over. Normally, she’d call Christopher but he was already mad at her and Big Joe was already mad with him.

“Where’s my grandfather?”

She stopped moving. Each step she took away from him made him take one step closer to her. Instead of allowing herself to be wedged into a corner, she scooted around the table, heading to the door. Cee
Cee moved quick, blocking her escape. “I never answered you.”

She’d forgotten she’d asked her grandfather’s whereabouts until then. “That’s okay,” she blurted. “I need to get home. Mama…my mother is going to need my help with my little sisters. Nia is probably in her room pouting and Ophelia won’t want to do her homework and—“

His thumbs brushed her nipples and Zoann froze. She needed to defend herself before things got any worse.

“My grand will be home soon. I’m here to cook dinner for him and he’ll be very angry if you hurt me.”

Cee Cee lifted a black brow, the gesture so reminiscent of Christopher that Zoann blinked. “My brother…all I have to do is tell him and he’ll hunt you down and kill you for touching me.”

Whether Christopher would really kill him was debatable, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Christopher, huh?” He hooted with crazy laughter and Zoann knew things spiraled out of control, faster and faster. “The bane of Logan’s existence.”

“I love my brother.”

He shrugged. “Don’t give a fuck. He’s not here. Only me, you, my dick, and your pussy. I intend to fuck you until I’m satisfied I’ve taken everything I’m supposed to have.”

“You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do, princess.” He reached for her and Zoann ducked under his arm, running toward the front door and screaming. No one would hear her, though. Their closest neighbor lived half mile away.

Cee Cee got to her as she reached the door, grabbing her around the waist and pushing her into the wood. His hard penis pressed against her back and she started to cry, the fear inside of her making her sick.

“I’m going to fuck you, Zoann.”

He knew her name? Not that it mattered. Only his intentions did.

He tightened his hold on her. “I’ve wanted you forever and I finally figured a way to get you.” He bit her cheek, then blew on the sting. “I don’t want to see you in pain yet, love,” he crooned. “If you cooperate, I’ll make you feel good first. Okay?”

Not okay. So not okay. “I’m a virgin and…and I-I don’t know what to do. You won’t feel good, so if you just let me leave I can call my brother. He always talks about different girls.” Not that he talked about them in front of her. She heard snippets whenever he visited Mama.

He bit her cheek again, harder, drawing blood this time and more tears.

“I’ll cooperate,” she gasped out, her cheek stinging, the warmth of the blood flowing down her skin. “Don’t hurt me.”

If she capitulated, maybe, he’d show her some mercy. If he showed her mercy, then, she’d find a way to escape. Hopefully, before, he actually raped her.

“Turn around,” he instructed.”

She hiccupped and shook with fear. This wasn’t right. She needed to fight. She couldn’t blindly follow his orders.

He slammed her against the door and she bumped her forehead and her shoulder. “Did you fucking hear me, you spoiled little cunt?”

Grabbing the shoulder she’d hurt, he yanked her around. Unlike when she’d first seen him, his eyes were blazing and his face was a mask of anger. She stared at him, silently begging him not to do this to her.

Not heeding her, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall, toward the bedrooms. Zoann plotted her next move and swiped at her cheek again. He opened a door to the biggest guestroom and shoved her inside. She skidded to the floor and moaned at the contact of her knee and the wood.
Bowing her head and covering her face with her hands, she listened to the sounds of his movements.

Light pierced the cracks of her fingers, hurting the back of her eyes.

A blow to side of the head knocked her over. She moaned.

‘Stand up.”

Cee Cee’s voice floated to her through her dizziness and pain.

“I’m not telling you again. Stand the fuck up,” he ordered, kicking her side.

Gasping, she jumped to her feet and swayed, the blows he’d given her already impairing her. He wore a cut now. And nothing else.

His patches proclaimed him President of the American Scorpions. He was a biker. Like Christopher and Val and Johnnie. If she could just get him to understand hurting her would cause problems, maybe…

“Clothes off.”

He was naked now. Maybe, she could get out the front door and get to the dirt road. She turned.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she headed for the door. But her injuries slowed her down and he caught her before she reached the hallway.

Self-preservation kicked in and she struggled against his hold, sinking her teeth into his arms and screaming again. He slammed her onto the bed. She bounced up, butting into him shoulder first and knocking him back.


Her feet hit the floorboards, but he grabbed her by the shorts she wore. By the time he got her back onto the bed, they were halfway down her legs. A belt lashed against her face.

“Move again and I’ll beat your face with this belt until it’s unrecognizable.”

She stilled, but another sob escaped her. Cee yanked her shorts off and glared at her. “Sit fucking up and take off your goddamn shirt. I have to put you fucking back together when I’m through fucking you and send you home to your cunt of a mother.”

Home. He was going to send her home. He would rape her, but she could get home to Mama.
She sat up, her hands shaking, and pulled off her brother’s Tee-shirt.

Now, she was naked, vulnerable, more frightened than she’d ever been. But he would send her home. Christopher would fix this for her.

“To your knees.”

Obeying him, Zoann willed away her desire to cover her breasts and vagina with her arms and hands. She’d been shaving her pubic hair since she was fifteen years old but the way he stared at her private area made her think she’d done something wrong.

He pulled her nipple before bending his head and tugging it into his mouth, suckling her. Not hard.

“Relax,” he said, like it was easy to do.

“I can’t,” she whispered, gasping when he licked her nipple. “I don’t want to do this with you.”

He raised his head. “Am I hurting you?”

“N-no. That isn’t the point, though.”

He pressed his fingers against her clitoris and she jerked. No one had ever touched her there. She touched herself, even though the nuns said masturbation was a sin. To them, everything was a sin. It shocked her they didn’t think deep breathing didn’t send someone to hell.

“Touch me while I touch you.”

When she didn’t comply, he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his penis. Keeping his hand over hers, he tugged his length, his other hand still working between her legs.

“Lie back.”

Sucking back the last of her tears, her mind focused on the moment when she could leave, she listened. This…she didn’t know what this would be called. He was forcing her but not really forcing her. She was scared but aroused and aroused but scared.

He crawled between her legs and opened them, rubbing his penis against her seam and staring into her eyes. She wished this was Val. That it wasn’t made her tense again and he scowled at her.
Rearing back, he rested on his heels and gave her a crooked grin. “I promised I’d make you feel good, huh?”

Zoann already knew he expected an answer so she nodded.

“Open your legs wide.”

She prayed this ended quickly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she spread her thighs. A moment later, she hissed in a breath, the long lick he gave to her both shocking and embarrassing. Her eyes flew open. Another lick. She trembled, feeling the sensation to the tips of her nipples and in the core of her belly.
His tongue moved faster and faster. Zoann groaned, her body melting at the way Cee Cee used his mouth on her. She twisted, not wanting the orgasm she felt building inside of her, but the way he used his mouth…She cried out, shaking, her release stealing her breath.

When he moved from between her legs, she closed her eyes and curled up, wondering how she’d face herself in the mirror.

“You little slut,” he snarled.

Zoann opened her eyes just as his fist flew toward her belly. He hit her hard enough to knock her off the bed. Her arms flailed and she landed with a hard thud on the floor. He followed her to the floor, grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet, then shoving her back onto the bed.

“You’re just like every other bitch I’ve fucked. Telling me no then coming on my tongue.”

He hit her across her face and she cried out, raising her arms to shield the blows. He grabbed her hand and twisted until the bone in her wrist snapped. She screamed.

“Not feeling so fucking good now are you?” Zoann moaned, sweat popping off her cold skin at the pain rolling through her body. He’d broken her wrist but it felt as if it affected her entire body. Too busy crying over the pain, the feel of the belt hitting her on various parts of her body shocked her away from the bone break and catapulted her into even worse pain.

The leather landed against her eyes and she shook her head, denying the screaming agony. The next several blows landed on her breasts, then went to her belly, before landing on her vagina so many times she swore she’d be ruined forever.
Unable to bear anymore, she reached out blindly. “Please stop. Please!”

One more blow and then he stopped. She was trembling, her body so very cold, but the pain flaring through her in hot waves.

“You liked to have your pussy licked?”

“No,” she sobbed.

Silence. A few moments passed, then she felt him climbing onto her and settling between her legs. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn’t. Or, maybe, they were opened and she could no longer see.
He thrust into her, tearing into her body.

Zoann screamed with each hard drive into her. He’d already hurt her there with the belt. Now, he was ripping her insides out with his penis, slamming into her over and over again. It seemed to go on forever but he finally stiffened and grunted before trembling and collapsing on top of her.

The sudden removal of his weight allowed Zoann a moment to draw in air. She was going to die. Everything hurt her and she couldn’t see. She held onto consciousness, but it was the voice keeping her away. She heard voices.

“Fucking kill you…” “Won bet…” “Zoann…Christopher…” “Kill that motherfucker…” “Carried away…”

Words. That’s all they were. Zoann couldn’t make sense of any of them. She sobbed again. She’d never get to say her speech. She’d worked so hard. She’d never see Mama, Christy and Fee again. Because she was dying. And she was dying with Christy angry at her. “Christy,” she managed around more tears. “I-I love you.” She couldn’t hold on anymore. She just prayed, one day, she’d see her beloved Christy again.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Release day for Misdeeds!

I'm so excited! Thank you for putting the release day blitz together, Geri EverAfter. June 5th is six months since the release of Misled. What a wonderful fucking ride it's been!

Book Title: Misdeeds
Series: Death Dwellers MC (Book 2.5)
Author: Kathryn Kelly
Publication Date: June 5, 2014

John “Johnnie” Donovan is determined to make his relationship work with Kendall Miller, the attorney he met during his cousin’s birthday party. Before he can move on with his future, however, he still has loose ends to tie up from the past in the person of a rival MC’s president who is also Kendall’s ex-boyfriend. As Johnnie tries to balance his club life and personal life, another tragedy forces him to make a choice between the two. Will Johnnie be able to live with the choices he makes?
Kendall Miller is trying to pick up the pieces of her life in the wake of her ex-boyfriend’s assault. She’s ready to move on with her life and the man of her dreams, the sexy VP of the Death Dwellers MC. She demands his complete attention and isn’t willing to share her man with all the baggage of the MC. She doesn’t want to be an afterthought to him nor does she want to live her life in the midst of the clubhouse, especially with the competition taking place between Kendall and the club president’s wife. Then, catastrophe strikes and Kendall’s life is once again altered. Can she and Johnnie have a future together or has their love been doomed from the beginning?


Instead of Megan or any other woman, Johnnie stepped in and leaned against the door. He’d been running his fingers through his hair a lot, so the blond strands lay all over his head. The sadness in his eyes made her heart twist and she stepped closer to him before gliding her fingers along his jawline. The stubble that had grown since he’d shaved this morning scraped against her fingertips. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her nose against his neck, inhaling his scent. Smoke. Alcohol. The faintest hint of aftershave. Musk. And him. Johnnie.

She planted kisses against his throat and up to his mouth. He groaned and pulled her closer, taking control of the kiss and dipping his tongue into her mouth. Heat pooled low in her belly, her pussy slickening in need.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me, gorgeous,” he whispered, thumbing her nipples and thrusting his erection against her.

Kendall melted at his words and smiled, pulling back to stare into his eyes, burning with a silver intensity that seemed to reach into her soul. But she wouldn’t tell him again that she loved him right now. He was dealing with too much. Besides, she wanted to know how deep his feelings went for her. She couldn’t face his rejection.
“Come out with me?” he asked quietly. “I’m about to tell a hilarious story about K-P. Well, it’s more about us but K-P walked in at the end and—“ He rubbed the back of his neck and he shrugged before forcing a smile onto his lips. “I’d like you to be out there.”

Unable to deny him as much as she wanted to ask they return to their room, Kendall nodded.

His grin wasn’t as bleak. Grabbing her hand, he moved away from the door, opened it, and then guided her out. He went to the center of the floor and whistled to call attention to himself.

“You’d never know just by looking at our ugly mugs how two little guys have woven their way into our hearts,” he began when the room fell silent. “I’m going to be a father, too, thanks to my old lady.” He nodded to Kendall and she blinked, heat rising to her cheeks, not expecting Johnnie to make such an announcement.

Claps and catcalls reached Kendall, Johnnie’s loudest of all. She didn’t know how to feel about having so much attention focused on her and wished Johnnie would’ve discussed his intentions with her, so she could’ve been better prepared.

Sliding into the seat she’d had earlier, she ignored the stares directed at her, balling her hands into fists to keep from screaming at everyone to focus elsewhere. Like on Johnnie, who was finally launching into the story he’d mentioned to her in the bathroom.

Losing herself in the cadence of his voice, Kendall blocked out everyone else and focused on the anecdote.



Kathryn Kelly is living her dream and writing books. Everyone who follows Kat on Facebook is well aware of her relationship with her mother. For those of you who are unaware, the following will offer you a taste. To live in peace, Kat acknowledges she is a mom, but prefers to keep her personal life private. In spite of her momma. Kat has 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.

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