Beneath These Scars Series: Beneath #4 Genre: Contemporary, Erotic Romance Author: Meghan March Release Date: September 22, 2015
I’m the guy you love to hate.
In every story in my life, I seem to end up playing the villain—and I’ve got the scars to prove it.
That role works fine for me, because I’m sure as hell not anyone’s hero.
I run my life and my empire with an iron fist—until she knocks my tightly controlled world off its axis.
She’s nobody’s damsel in distress, but I can’t help but want to save her anyway.
I guess we’re about to find out if there’s a hero buried … beneath these scars.
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Chapter 1
Lucas
SWEAT DRIPPED INTO MY EYES as I bounced on the balls of my feet. Someone had to be calling out how much time was left in this round soon. My pride was on the line, and there was no way I would hand it over to Con Leahy. He’d already gotten the girl, and I wasn’t about to let him humiliate me in the ring in this piece-of-shit New Orleans gym too. My muscles burned, but that was nothing compared to the heat of victory—or the sting of defeat.
What had started out as a boxing lesson had quickly transformed into an all-out brawl for dominance and respect. Only you would pay a million dollars to get your ass kicked, Titan. The voice in my head mocked me as I bobbed and weaved. But I hadn’t paid a million to get my ass kicked. I’d done it because that night at the charity auction I’d been drunk, pissed off, and determined to prove a point—he might’ve gotten the girl, but I was still the one with the power. I got a sick sense of satisfaction that every time Con bought something for his gym and these kids, he had to think of me.
I swung with another right hook. The blow connected with Con’s jaw and snapped his head to the side. Yeah. That’s right. But my mental cheer came a moment too soon, and pain exploded in my left side. Shit, that’s going to hurt tomorrow. I stumbled back but threw myself forward again, shooting out my fist with an uppercut that knocked Con back a step. This was how it had gone for the last several minutes—trading punches and circling each other. There was no love lost in this ring, that was for damn sure, and I was ready for this to be over. I would walk out of here with every bit of the respect I was owed. Fuck anyone who thought otherwise. Con moved toward me and the circling started again. The cheers and chants from the crowd surrounding the ring in the old warehouse gym seemed to grow every time I glanced beyond the ropes.
A flash of blond hair caught my eye as I stepped left and Con shifted to the right. Vanessa. She threw her head back and laughed at something said by her redheaded friend, Elle. I turned my attention back to the man in front of me, but my focus wandered again when a huskier, sexier laugh echoed through the room. My eyes strayed from Con for a second too long as I tried to track down the source of the laughter. Pain burst through my jaw, catching me by surprise, and I stumbled back into the ropes. Using their momentum, I shoved off to the side, my pride stinging from my momentary lapse in concentration. Embarrassed and now thoroughly pissed off, I surged forward and attacked. One punch. That was all I landed before the bell rang, signaling the end of the round and my very expensive “lesson.” I pushed off Con, and my knee might have slipped as I stepped back . . . and caught him directly in the balls. It was probably an accident. I huffed out a chuckle, but Con didn’t share my humor.
“Goddamn it!” he roared. “Are you fucking serious?” It was like stabbing a bull with a matador’s sword, but I was ready for him. I jumped out of the way as Con charged, and shifted into a defensive stance when he swung.
“Should’ve expected a cheap shot from you, motherfucker.” Unrestrained anger flashed over his face as every shred of coaching mentality fled, along with that smug superiority he’d been giving me. Good. You aren’t better than me, Leahy. I could buy and sell you a hundred times over. He might’ve gotten the girl, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with her clean. I wanted blood.
“Should’ve expected you to strut around this ring like a fucking cock of the walk,” I shot back. Con feinted and swung again, but I’d been studying his movements. I bobbed and weaved, and got the hell out of the way. I threw my own punch as soon as I had a clean shot. It landed just below Con’s left eye, splitting the skin over his cheekbone and sending blood spattering everywhere. The taste of victory was sweet.
“First blood,” I said under my breath. Apparently my words weren’t quiet enough because Con’s head snapped up and he glared at me with disgust, as if I needed to be put down like a rabid animal. “This ain’t a fuckin’ duel, you piece of shit.”
“It sure isn’t a friendly competition either.”
“Paid a million to get that cheap shot in, didn’t you?” My lips twisted into a mocking smile.
“I sure didn’t pay a million to have you show me up.” Con dropped his hands and shook his head. “Just when I thought you weren’t a complete fucking asshole.”
“You were wrong,” I replied, turning for the ropes. Con’s fists lifted and before I could react, one connected with my cheekbone. The instantaneous gush of blood told me I’d have a scar to match his, but it didn’t matter. One more scar wouldn’t hurt my banged-up face. I roared as I charged, but I didn’t get the chance to retaliate. Shouts filled the room, and beefy arms wrapped around my body, holding me back.
“You’re not half bad when you’re not being a shady rich prick,” Lord’s voice said in my ear. I lunged toward Con, but Lord’s grip only tightened.
“Get your goddamn hands off me,” I growled at him. Leaning closer to my ear, he lowered his voice.
“When you calm the hell down and realize you’re making an ass of yourself in front of a bunch of kids and women.” I glanced out to the crowd and read disgust on so many faces, including Vanessa’s. Like it mattered what a single goddamn person in this gym thought of me. I could buy and sell them all. Lord was still holding me back when Con came toward us. He yanked his gloves off and wiped at the blood still dripping from the gash on his face.
“You’re also not half bad when you’re paying attention—and when you’re not throwing a knee into my nuts. But I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.” I jerked at the arms trapping me. “Call off your dog, and I’m gone.”
“You ever want another round, it’s gonna cost you two million next time,” Con said. “For another chance to make you bleed? I’d pay even more.” Con nodded to his brother, and Lord let me go. The crowd had already started to disperse. The only person in the building who probably didn’t want to run me down in the parking lot was my COO, and arguably my friend, Ryder Colson. And he was nowhere to be seen. Instead of Colson, I saw a group of women moving toward the door—Vanessa Frost in her white cotton dress, Elle Snyder in her yellow retro number, and two others I didn’t know. One looked familiar with tanned skin the color of honey, her hair in dark waves, and a curvy body displayed by a funky teal dress with hot-pink polka dots. She hooked her hands on her hips, and that husky laugh echoed through the room again. Apparently she was the one who had distracted me in the ring. My eyes didn’t move from her to take in the fourth woman. Colson came up beside me.
“Who knew there’d be so many hot pieces of ass in this shit warehouse?” I turned toward him.
“Give any of them a shot, and you’ll probably find yourself bleeding on the floor.” Ryder shrugged off my comment.
“Go get your shit. I’ll wait.” He was gone before I could tell him he didn’t need to wait around for me. But then again, he was my only ally in a building full of people who undoubtedly would have preferred to see me KO’d on the floor of the ring. Just one more place I’d never be welcome. Good thing I didn’t give a fuck. I’d showed up, gone toe-to-toe with Con, and had taken back a piece of my pride. That was enough. For today. I was already thinking of hiring a trainer as I went for my bag.
…she didn’t have to like me to fuck me; she just had to want me more than she hated me.
I became an instant fan of Meghan March when I first read Beneath These Chains earlier this year. Her writing, her alphas, the super sexy romance, the story, everything about her book just…worked for me. Now while I did feel like I was missing a bit of a backstory here since Lucas was first introduced in Beneath This Ink and I haven’t read that yet, that never once diminished my enjoyment. Meghan does a fantastic job giving readers that backstory so the book can be easily enjoyed as a standalone. 
Lucas. Fucking. Titan. Just that name alone gives me shivers. I mean, the man is as intense as he is hated, and for good reason too. Lucas hasn’t exactly been making friends in his determination for success. He has no problem using people or playing dirty and that’s certainly amassed his share of enemies. But Lucas isn’t a man that cares about that…until he meets the woman that tempts him beyond reason…and turns him down flat.
Yve Santos is determined to stand on her own two feet. She’s no one’s mistress or kept woman. The last thing she needs in her life is an entitled billionaire, even if the asshole is sexier than sin. She wants nothing to do with him, and tells him that often. Unfortunately her words lack conviction when said asshole also turns her own body traitor on her and turns her on with just his broody stare and husky voice alone. 
So basically we have delicious hate lust, an asshole billionaire, and a sassy, smart mouthed heroine that isn’t shy about putting him in his place…and I loved it. 
It was like this book was custom written just for me. Truth be told, nothing revs my engine more than enemies to lovers trope, add in an underlaying of sexual chemistry strong enough to level a building and I’m putty in your hands. I absolutely devoured this book. DEVOURED it, I tells ya!
But it’s also so much more than billionaire meets sassy but down on her luck heroine. There’s a very solid story that weaves flawlessly with the romance to make this one unputdownable read. While it’s clear that Lucas has his secrets, Yve has her own, and they may just be deadly. Can she let Lucas in enough to save her or will they crash and burn with their fiery passion? Guess you’ll have to read to find that out. You didn’t expect me to tell you that, did you? What I can tell you is that these books seem to get better and better for me. I loved everything about it; the characters, the romance, the writing, and the oh sweet baby jebus scorching hot sex. What? I never claimed to be virtuous here and the sex was that hot. All growly and hatey and everything. DELICIOUS. If you haven’t read this series yet, I strongly recommend you do. While you can just as easy read this book as a standalone, I think it’d be best enjoyed read in series order. Besides, if the last 2 heroes I read by Meghan March are anything to go by, Con and Simon are sure to be just as hot. Trust me on this, this is a series you need to read.
Meghan March is the author of contemporary and erotic romance novels. Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com.
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Catch Up on the Beneath Series
Beneath This Mask (Beneath #1) 
He loves me, and he doesn’t even know my real name. The limelight that follows him could expose everything I’m hiding. But even knowing the risks, I can’t force myself to stay away. I’m going to break his heart, but mine will shatter right along with it. Will we lose it all when I reveal what’s beneath this mask?
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Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2) 
I’ve always known she was too good for me, but that never stopped me from wanting her. And then I finally had her for one night. A night I don’t remember. I figured I’d blown my shot. But now she’s walked back into my life, and this time, I have the upper hand. I want my second chance. Will she be able to see the man beneath this ink?
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Beneath These Chains (Beneath #3) 
I was raised on the streets, so I know things are rarely as simple as they appear—especially this rich girl showing up at my pawnshop demanding a job. She’s the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ll be damned if I can make her leave. Shit just got complicated … but when it comes to her—I want complicated. We’re both fighting our own demons, and our only chance at a future is to let go of the past. But will we be strong enough to break free from beneath these chains?
After reading 
Ivy has been the Savage Saints club whore for as long as she’s been there. She’s the anything goes girl and the more you hurt her, the more she’ll want you. Devastated at being cast aside by Kick, the man she believed herself in love with, she turns to the familiar numbness of drugs to make her forget.
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It’s not an easy read. Not even close. I felt this book on a visceral level and I still find myself unable to stop thinking about it days after finishing.
It’s no secret that I’m obsessed with all things J. Daniels (see what I did there?) and for damn good reason too. The woman never fails to serve up a hero that is guaranteed to make me pant and drool over. Ever since Mason was first introduced in 
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A knight in tarnished armor is still a knight.
No one, and I mean no one gives male POV quite like Emma Chase. The woman is the queen of male POVs and nothing beats her. While Drew from 
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If I’m being perfectly honest, I was actually hesitant to read this. Last time I read a companion novel, the only thing it managed to do was make me hate the heroine with the fire of the worst kind of venereal disease. Not that I’d know what that felt like, but you catch my drift. What I mean to say, is more often then not you’re getting the same regurgitated novel you already read but in a different POV. Well this wasn’t that at all. Not even a little bit. Not even close. While this is essentially in Jared’s POV it’s a completely different book. So much so, that you can read it as a standalone, which I wouldn’t recommend since you need to see it from Tate’s POV first in 
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God. This book. I mean, THIS BOOK. Words fail me to describe just how much I loved this. I’ve had this in my kindle for what feels like ages since I got it as a freebie way back in 2013. I’ve seen it making the rounds on Goodreads and for some reason I still hadn’t read it. If I can kick my own ass for not reading this sooner, I would, because this book? This book reminded me about all the reasons why I fell in love with New Adult romance to begin with. And I’m not talking about the manufactured angst, stupid decisions, at at times gratuitous sex scenes. No. I’m talking that all-encompassing feeling, just the right amount of gut-wrenching angst, you hate but love the hero, and you want to high five the heroine kind of read. It was like it was custom written just for me.
I can’t remember the last time a book kept me up all night, completely incapable of setting it down for even a second because I needed to know what happened next. I was sucked in from just the first chapter and read this in one sitting. This is exactly the kind of angst that I’m starving for. Imperfectly perfect, rage inducing and yet flawless. That probably doesn’t even make sense, but if you’re an angst whore like me, you’ll know what I mean. My absolute favorite trope is the enemies-to-lovers, hate/lust thing and Bully delivers that in spades. While there were parts I wanted more from, I still can’t rate it down for that simply because this book absolutely enthralled me. So much so, that I couldn’t even bat an eyelash at any minor quibbles it may have had.
Last year I read a book and fell hard for a fictional couple. I swooned, I sighed, and I fell irrevocably in love with Jessica Topper’s incredible writing. 
Gritty, captivating, unpredictable and completely and utterly unputdownable. Ricochet will suck you into the dark vortex of depravity and vengeance.
He absolutely makes me nervous. He’s John fucking Logan, one of the most popular guys at this college. And I’m Grace fucking Ivers, one of thousand of girls who are crushing on him.
