Review: ★Ruin & Rule★ by @PepperWinters

ruin & rule book tour

Title: Ruin & Rule
Author: Pepper Winters
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: July 7, 2015
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“We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over reason. We fell in love. We fell hard. But then we woke up. And it was over . . .”

RUIN & RULE

She is a woman divided. Her past, present, and future are as twisted as the lies she’s lived for the past eight years. Desperate to get the truth, she must turn to the one man who may also be her greatest enemy . . .

He is the president of Pure Corruption MC. A heartless biker and retribution-deliverer. He accepts no rules, obeys no one, and lives only to reap revenge on those who wronged him. And now he has stolen her, body and soul.

Can a woman plagued by mystery fall in love with the man who refuses to face the truth? And can a man drenched in darkness forgo his quest for vengeance-and finally find redemption?

“Ruin & Rule is a full-length book at 436 pages and ends on a cliffhanger. Cleo and Kill’s story continues in SIN & SUFFER.”

Buy Links

Amazon / iBooks / B&N / Kobo / Google Play

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Excerpt

Prologue
We met in a nightmare.The in-between world where time had no power over rhyme, reason, or connection. We met. We stared. We knew.There was no distortion from the outside world. No right or wrong. No confusion or battles from hearts and minds.Just us. In our silent dreamworld.That nightmare became our home. Planting ghosts, raising fantasies. Entwined together in our happily skewed reality.

We fell in love. We fell hard.

In those fleeting seconds of our nightmare, we lived an eternity.

But then we woke up.

And it was over.

Chapter One

I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naïve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate.

—Kill

[ORN_SB]

Darkness.

That was my world now. Literally and physically.

The back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me.

Nothing was broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised. The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed light on what’d happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach at having such a fundamental gift taken away.

I didn’t move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to enter—just enough to keep me alive.

Fear tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to terror.

Fear never helps, only hinders.

My senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me would notice their return.

Sound: the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping.

Touch: the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and sharpness. A burn perhaps?

Smell: dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fear—but it wasn’t mine. It was theirs.

It wasn’t just me being kidnapped.

My heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward. Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury.

I refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I wouldn’t succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what might happen next.

I hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing it with concern for theirs.

Get through this, then worry about them.

I didn’t think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor remnants or the smell of cigarettes.

Had I been at a party? Nightclub?

Nothing.

I hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think…

No hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d come for me.

I wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested, stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I stopped trying to move, preserving my energy.

I tried to swallow.

No saliva.

I tried to speak.

No voice.

I tried to remember what happened.

I tried to remember…

Panic.

Nothing.

I can’t remember.

“Get up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again. Get.”

I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.

I’ll miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter.

“I’m not dying, you know.” I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at the final call flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all.

“Call me the moment you get there.”

“Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart—

The memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop.

Who was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening?

“I said get up, bitch.” The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully unprotected.

Unfortunately.

My captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold.

My legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasn’t a masquerade.

This was real.

This is real.

My heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong.

I was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had left—remaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other side of my blindfold.

Moans and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind.

I willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into place, so I could make sense of this horrible world I’d awoken in.

But my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know.

The pushing stopped. So did I.

Big mistake.

“Move.” A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My bare feet traversed…wood?

Bare feet?

Where are my shoes?

The missing knowledge twisted my stomach.

Where did I come from?

How did I end up here?

What’s my name?

It wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness. It was the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.

How could I deal with this new world if I didn’t know what skills I had to stay alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me out?

Who am I?

To have who I was deleted…It was unthinkable.

“Faster, bitch.” Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could for dips or trips.

“Step down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as my toes navigated the small steps before me.

“Again.”

I obeyed.

“Last one.”

I managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face.

My face.

What do I look like?

A loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine form. The woman behind me cried out—the first verbal sound of another.

“Move.” The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by…copper and metallic…blood?

Why…why is that so familiar?

I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.

“Don’t overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it bleed. It’s what you’re doing to make it live.” My professor shook his head, waiting for me to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in progress.

My heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy that’d been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. He’d survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace the vocation I was called to do.

Inhaling the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell of the creature’s life force until it no longer affected me.

Picking up a scalpel, I said, “I’m ready—”

“Holy fuck!” The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped.

“Wire—get me fucking reinforcements. He’s started a motherfucking war!”

Wind and body motion swarmed me as men charged from behind. The darkness I lived in suddenly came alive with sound.

Bullets flew, impaling themselves into the metal sides of the vehicle I’d just stepped from. Pings and ricochets echoed in my ear. Curses bellowed; moans of pain threaded like a breeze.

Someone grabbed my arm, swinging me to the side. “Get down!” The inertia of his throw knocked me off balance. With my wrists bound together, I had nothing to grab with, no way to protect myself from falling.

I fell.

My stomach swooped as tumbled off a small platform and smashed against the ground.

Dirt, damp grass, and moldy leaves replaced the stench of blood, cutting through the cloying sharpness of spilled metallic. My mouth opened, gasping in pain. Blades of grass tickled my lips as my cheek stuck to wet mud.

My shoulder screamed with agony, but I ignored the new injury. My mind clung to the unlocked memory. The fleeting recollection of my profession.

I’m a vet.

The sense of homecoming and security that one little snippet brought was priceless. My soul snarled for more, suddenly ravenous for missing information.

I skipped straight from fumbling uncertainty into starvation for more.

Tell me! Show me. Who am I?

I searched inside for more clues. But it was like trying to grab on to an elusive dream, fading faster and faster the harder I chased.

I couldn’t remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew was I’d been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasn’t afraid of it. I didn’t faint or suffer sickness at the sight of it pouring from an open wound.

That tiniest knowledge was enough to settle my prickling nerves and focus on the outside world again.

Battle cries. Men screaming. Men growling. The dense thuds of fists on flesh and the horrible deflection of gunshots.

I couldn’t understand. Had I fallen through time and entered an alternate dimension?

Another body landed on top of mine.

I cried out, winded from a sharp poke of an elbow to my ribs.

The figure rolled away, crying softly. Feminine.

Why aren’t I crying?

I once again searched for fear. It wasn’t natural not to be afraid. I’d woken up alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I wasn’t hyperventilating or panicked.

My calmness was like a drug, oozing over me, muting the sharp starkness of my situation. It was bearable if I embraced courage and the knowledge that I was strong.

My hands balled, grateful for the thought. I didn’t know who I was, but it didn’t matter, because the person who I was in this moment mattered the most.

I had to remain segmented, so I could get through whatever was about to happen. All I had was gut instinct, quiet strength, and rationality. Everything else had been taken.

“Stop fighting, you fucking idiots!”

The loud growl rumbled like an earthquake, hushing the battle in one fell swoop. Whoever had spoken had power.

Immense power. Colossal power.

A shiver darted over my skin.

“What the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovin’ mind?” a man yelled.

A sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose.

“It’s done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.” The same earthquake rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against the damp ground.

“I’m not bending nothing, you asshole. You aren’t my Prez!”

“I am. Have been for the past four years.”

“You’re not. You’re his bitch. Don’t think his power is yours.”

Another fight—muffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan.

The earthquake voice came again. “Open your eyes and follow the red fucking river. Your chosen—the one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take over the Club—he’s dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me Prez for a fucking reason?”

Another moan.

“I’m the chosen one. I’m the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the legacy, and earned his way into power. You don’t know shit. Nobody does. So bend a fucking knee and respect.”

Another tremor ran down my back.

Silence for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a barely muttered curse. “You’ll die. One way or another, we won’t put up with a Dagger as a Prez. We’re the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a traitor rule us is a fucking joke.”

“I’m the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead? I’m the traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?” A heavy thud of a fist connected with flesh. “No…I’m not. You are.”

My mind raced, sucking up noises and forming wild conclusions of what happened before me. Was this World War Three? Was this the apocalypse of the life I couldn’t remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I couldn’t make sense of anything.

The air was thick with anticipation. I didn’t know how many men stood before me. I didn’t know how many corpses littered the ground, or how such violence could be permitted in the world I used to know. But I did know the cease-fire was fragile and any moment it would explode.

A single threat slithered through the grass like a snake. “I’ll kill you, motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take you out.”

The gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. “The Corrupts haven’t existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the seat, it’s been Pure Corruption all the way. And you’re not fucking pure enough for this Club. You’re done.”

I flinched as the sulfuric boom of a gun ripped through the stagnant air.

A crash as a body fell lifeless to the grass. A soft puff of a soul escaping.

Murder.

Murder was committed right before me.

The inherent need to nurture and heal—the part of me that was as steadfast as the beat of my heart—wept with regret.

Death was something I’d fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless.

I hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadn’t been able to stop it.

I’m a witness.

And yet, I’d witnessed nothing.

I’d been privy to a battle but seen nothing. Knew no one. I would never be able to tell who shot whom, or who was right and who was wrong.

My hands shook, even though I managed to stay eerily calm. Am I in shock? And if I was, how did I cure myself?

The woman beside me curled into a ball, her knees digging into my side. My first reaction was to repel away from the touch. I didn’t know who was friend or foe. But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my calmness—to let her know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone. We faced the same future—no matter how grim.

Voices cascaded over us, whispers mainly, quickly spoken orders. Every sound was heightened. Being robbed of sight made my body seek other ways in which to find clues.

“Get rid of the bodies before daybreak.”

“We’ll go back and make sure we’re still covered.”

“Send out the word. It’s over. The Prez won—no anarchy today.”

Each voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble that set my skin quivering like quicksand.

He hadn’t spoken since he’d condemned someone to death and pulled the trigger. Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I wasn’t afraid. I should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he invoked something in me—something primal. Just like I knew I was female and a vet, I knew his voice meant something. Every inch of me tensed, waiting for him to speak. It was wrong to crave the voice of a killer, but it was the only thing I wanted.

Needed.

I need to know who he is.

Wet mud sucked loudly against boots as they came closer.

The woman whimpered, but I angled my chin toward the sound, wishing my eyes were uncovered.

I wanted to see. I wanted to witness the carnage before me. Because it was carnage. The stench of death confirmed it. It was morbid to want to see such destruction, but without my sight all of this seemed like a terrible nightmare. Nothing was grounded—completely nonsensical and far too strange.

I needed proof that this was real.

I needed concrete evidence that I wasn’t mad. That my body was intact, even if my mind was not.

I sucked in a breath as warm fingers touched my cheek, angling my face upward and out of the mud. Strong hands caressed the back of my skull, fumbling with my blindfold.

The anticipation of finally getting my wish to see made me stay still and cooperative in his hold.

I didn’t say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened.

The man’s breath was heavy and low, interspersed with a quick catch of pain. His fingers were swift and sure, but unable to hide the small fumble of agony.

He’s hurt.

The pressure of the blindfold suddenly released, trading opaque darkness for a new kind of gloom.

Night sky. Moonshine. Stars above.

Anchors of a world I knew, but no recognition of the dark-shrouded industrial estate where blood gleamed silver-black and corpses dotted the field.

I’m alive.

I can see.

The joy at having my eyes freed came and went as blazing as a comet.

Then my life ended as our gazes connected.

Green to green.

I have green eyes.

Down and down I spiraled, deeper and deeper into his clutches.

My life—past, present, and future—lost all purpose the second I stared into his soul.

The fear I’d been missing slammed into my heart.

I quivered. I quaked.

Something howled deep inside with age-old knowledge.

Every part of me arched toward him, then shied away in terror.

Him.

A nightmare come to life.

A nightmare I wanted to live.

If life was a tapestry, already threaded and steadfast, then he was the scissors that cut me free. He tore me out, stole me away, changed the whole prophecy of who I was meant to be.

Jaw-length dark hair, tangled and sweaty, framed a square jaw, straight nose, and full lips. His five-o’clock stubble held remnants of war, streaked with dirt and blood. But it was his eyes that shot a quivering arrow into my heart, spreading his emerald anger.

He froze, his body curving toward mine. Blistering hope flickered across his features. His mouth fell open and love so achingly deep glowed in his gaze. “What—” A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands shook as he cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my cheekbones. “It’s not—”

My heart raced. Yes.

“You know me,” I breathed.

The moment my voice webbed around us, storm clouds rolled over the sunshine in his face, blackening the hope and replacing it with pure hatred.

He changed from watching me like I was his angel to glowering as if I were a despicable devil.

I shivered at the change—at the iciness and hardness. He breathed hard, his chest rising and falling. His lips parted, a rumbling command falling from his mouth to my ears. “Stand up. You’re mine now.”

When I didn’t move, his hand landed on my side. His touch was blocked by clothing but I felt it everywhere. He stroked my soul, tickled my heart, and caressed every cell with fingers that despised me.

I couldn’t suck in a proper breath.

With a vicious push, he rolled me over, and with a sharp blade sliced my bindings. With effortless power, so thrilling and terrifying, he hauled me to my feet.

I didn’t sway. I didn’t cry. Only pulled the disgusting gag from my mouth and stared in silence.

I stared up, up, up into his bright green eyes, understanding something I shouldn’t understand.

This was him.

My nightmare.

Review 5 starsRuin&Rule-DGR

We met in a nightmare, loved in a prayer. We gave everything until both were laid bare.

You know that moment when you pick up a book and you know, you just know that it’s going to be one of those books. A book that will keep you up until the crack of dawn reading. A book that you’d pass on food and sleep to read even if you’ll be a grumpy zombie the entire day. A book that will make your employees think you have a bladder infection because you take so many “bathroom breaks”. What? Too far. What I’m telling you is this was quite easily my favorite book by Pepper Winters, and this is coming from someone that’s read and loved her entire backlist. Yeah. It was that good.

I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naive. Life doesn’t reward- it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate.

When Pepper first introduced Author “Kill” Killian in Third Debt I was absolutely hooked. I knew that I’d beg, cry, and/or sell an ovary for his story. There was just something so devastatingly broken about him and if anyone knows how to write the broken and broody heroes, it’s this author. Kill was such a multifaceted character, he practically leapt off the pages. There’s this barely restrained violence to him along with something so completely broken and painful that you can’t help but fall head over heels for him right way, right or wrong.
Ruin&Rule2-DGRYears ago a betrayal lead to a tragedy that irrevocably changed the path of Kill’s life forever. He lost something so dear to him, that the loss of it took his heart with it. Now all he craves is vengeance. He lives and breathes revenge. And he won’t stop until those responsible for his greatest loss pay in blood.
She wakes up after being kidnapped and held to be trafficked in the middle of war. With no memory of who she is, her name, or why she’s here she struggles for a tiny thread of memory. And then she comes face to face with a pair stunned and enraged green eyes. Eyes that she feels to her core she knows from somewhere and yet she can’t place them.

My life- past, present, and future- lost all purpose the second I stared into his soul.

He’s covered in blood, stinks of death and yet she’s not afraid of him. While she knows that there’s some sort of tethered connection between them she doesn’t know if that’s a figment of her imagination or the hint of a memory.

I’d woken up in hell with no reflex fear of the devil.

Kill doesn’t want or need women for anything more than an empty release. So why is it the gorgeous redhead with the green eyes effects him on such a visceral level? He has no problem using anyone for his end game, and she’s no exception. Even if he seems to crave her on a level that goes far beyond just carnal.
Ruin&Rule1-DGR

The heat.
The throb.
The need.
He was an addiction to my painfully deprived mind.

And you know what? That is all about the plot you’ll be getting from me. What I can tell you is that I absolutely devoured this book. It sucked me in like an angst filled gritty and dark vortex and didn’t let me out until the very end.

The mystery behind the extent of what Killian is hiding and the truth behind her memories almost drove me out of my ever loving mind. The writing was absolutely phenomenal. Each chapter begins with a snippet from Killian’s POV and continues in her POV. This really added to the overall feeling of the book and the story. It gives you just enough to keep you hooked and yet not quite enough to put your overworking brain to ease.

Sometimes lies are the only thing keeping us sane.

It was page-turner filled with so much emotion, it was almost overwhelming. It was erotic and angsty. It was absolute gritty perfection. If you haven’t read this phenomenal author yet, I guarantee that you will be hooked after this book. It does end on a cliffhanger, but somehow I was OK with it. It really felt like it should have ended where it did. It was long, but there was not one empty page. Basically, what I’m trying to tell you here is that I fucking LOVED this book. HARD. If you’re not reading it, I really don’t know what you’re doing with your life.

About the Author

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Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.

She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

Her Dark Erotica books include:

Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)

Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)

Her Grey Romance books include:

Destroyed

STALK Pepper: Website | Pinterest | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads

#NewRelease & #Giveaway: ★Ricochet★ by Keri Lake

 
Title: Ricochet
Author: Keri Lake
Genre: Dark Romance
Release Date: July 9, 2015
add-to-goodreads-button-2Synopsis

The only sure way to destroy a man is to take what he cannot live without.

Three years ago, I had everything.

A beautiful wife.

A son.

A reason for living.

Until a ruthless task force, assembled under Mayor Michael Culling, with a brutal strategy to make the streets of Detroit ‘safe’, ripped away everything I loved in a deadly hunt called The Culling.

They tried to kill me, too. I wish they had. Now I’m cursed by the memories of that night, and the words I whispered to my dying wife.

A promise—to avenge the wrong and set it right.

I’m no longer Nick Ryder. I’m a masked vigilante. Faceless. Loveless. Fearless. A man with nothing left to lose—one who’s seen the dark and violent truth behind the city’s flawless veneer.

Michael Culling doesn’t know who I am. Or what I want. All he knows is that I’ve kidnapped his beautiful wife.

An eye for an eye—isn’t that how the saying goes? And Aubree Culling is the perfect pawn to destroy him.

If she doesn’t destroy me first.

Buy Links
Excerpt
With my right hand, I pinned her flailing fist, then released her throat and seized the other. She stilled, flat against the wall, with my body pressed into hers.
“You had everything to do with it.” I pushed harder, my muscles steeled. “He didn’t just wrong me, he annihilated me. And there you were, stroking his cock, smiling beside him all the while.”

“All you saw was a smile, then. You should’ve looked deeper. So what? I’m your revenge? Your ticket to hurting him?” She sneered. “Guess what? He doesn’t give a shit about me. He never did. So, go ahead, Nick. Kill me.” She lifted her head away from the wall, only inches from my face. “Snap my fucking throat, if that’s what you plan to do. You’d be doing him and me a favor.”

 

Her body pulsed with tension, the tremble beating against me, through me, inside of me. Anger. Hate.
So much hate.

With one quick twist of my hands, I could’ve snapped her neck, been done with the whole plan and exited my miserable fucking existence on the wings of a bullet to my skull.

Instead, I slammed my lips against hers. Loving the struggle of her body trying to push me away. Hating the fact that her lips tasted like sweet salvation, beckoning me to whatever web of deception she’d been weaving since I’d taken her. Her delicious smell pervaded my senses—water on the flames burning inside of me, steaming up my mind.
Three years.
The last time I’d devoured a woman’s lips was three years ago, and that had been out of love. Kissing Aubree was something else entirely. Not gentle or tender. I kissed her violently, with all the fury locked inside of me, our frantic breaths clashing with one another.
Her moan vibrated inside my skull, as her hands clenched to fists, trying to break free from my grasp.

She opened her mouth wider, dragged my lip between her teeth, and bit me.

Aggression surged through my body and rattled the cage of something dark inside of me.
I wanted more. More pain. More rage. I wanted to tear into her while cursing her name. Purge myself of the hate until it was spent.
I broke the kiss, breaths heaving, as I glared down at her. “What do you know about Brightmoor?” I rasped.
“I don’t know anything about Brightmoor,” she gritted out.
Lies. “Yeah? Then, why did you have the fucking blueprints tucked in your purse? Devil’s Night plans safe and sound, beside your goddamn lipstick and compact.”
Her chest rose and fell as I kept her captive against the wall, her stare deadpan. “I didn’t—”

 

“Don’t lie to me.” I pressed harder, lips to her ear. “I fucking hate liars,” I whispered, inciting a shudder in her that brought a smile to my face. “Why did you have the chip?”
“I stole it.”
“You stole it.” I wanted to laugh at the stupidity of such a thought, but my voice lacked any ounce of humor or inflection. “I don’t think you did, Pistol Lips. I think he gave it to you. His little pet.”
“I fucking hate you.” Venom laced her words as she stared back at me, those golden eyes blazing with vehemence.
I licked my lips and glanced down at her pert breasts, and smiled. Squeezing her captured wrists with one hand, I reached up under her dress, only grazing the patch of lace that kept my finger from being inside of her, knowing everything she was too stubborn to admit.
Her lids turned heavy, as drunken eyes riveted on my lips.

“Tell me how much you hate me.”

“Don’t,” she warned, and I caught the scrape of her tongue across her teeth.

Grabbing a handful of hair, I tugged her head back until her neck stretched taut, and like a creature of night, I wanted to bite down into that supple flesh and rip her throat out. Dragging my tongue along her shoulder, I made my way to the base of her neck and bit her collarbone. She let out a gasp and I released her wrists. Lust blazed through my veins, when her fingers tangled in my hair and her leg curled around my hip, drawing me against her.

“You know what, Aubree? I fucking hate you, too, but goddamn … you taste so good.”

Hell was having her skin against mine and craving her so badly I wanted to crawl out of my own body…
Keri Lake is a married mother of two living in Michigan. By day, she tries to make use of the degrees she’s earned in science. By night, she writes dark contemporary and paranormal romance. Though novels tend to be her focus, she also writes short stories and flash fiction on the many occasions when distraction sucks her in to the Land of Shiny Things.
She loves hearing from readers …

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#NewRelease & Excerpt: ★Ruin & Rule★ by Pepper Winters

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Meet Killian in Pepper Winter’s new MC Romance!

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NOW AVAILABLE

Amazon / iBooks / B&N / Kobo / Google Play

About The Book

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“We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over reason. We fell in love. We fell hard. But then we woke up. And it was over . . .”

RUIN & RULE

She is a woman divided. Her past, present, and future are as twisted as the lies she’s lived for the past eight years. Desperate to get the truth, she must turn to the one man who may also be her greatest enemy . . .

He is the president of Pure Corruption MC. A heartless biker and retribution-deliverer. He accepts no rules, obeys no one, and lives only to reap revenge on those who wronged him. And now he has stolen her, body and soul.

Can a woman plagued by mystery fall in love with the man who refuses to face the truth? And can a man drenched in darkness forgo his quest for vengeance-and finally find redemption?

“Ruin & Rule is a full-length book at 436 pages and ends on a cliffhanger. Cleo and Kill’s story continues in SIN & SUFFER.”

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ExcerptPrologue

We met in a nightmare.

The in-between world where time had no power over rhyme, reason, or connection. We met. We stared. We knew.

There was no distortion from the outside world. No right or wrong. No confusion or battles from hearts and minds.

Just us. In our silent dreamworld.

That nightmare became our home. Planting ghosts, raising fantasies. Entwined together in our happily skewed reality.

We fell in love. We fell hard.

In those fleeting seconds of our nightmare, we lived an eternity.

But then we woke up.

And it was over.

Chapter One

I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naïve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate.

—Kill

[ORN_SB]

Darkness.

That was my world now. Literally and physically.

The back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me.

Nothing was broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised. The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed light on what’d happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach at having such a fundamental gift taken away.

I didn’t move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to enter—just enough to keep me alive.

Fear tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to terror.

Fear never helps, only hinders.

My senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me would notice their return.

Sound: the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping.

Touch: the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and sharpness. A burn perhaps?

Smell: dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fear—but it wasn’t mine. It was theirs.

It wasn’t just me being kidnapped.

My heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward. Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury.

I refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I wouldn’t succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what might happen next.

I hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing it with concern for theirs.

Get through this, then worry about them.

I didn’t think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor remnants or the smell of cigarettes.

Had I been at a party? Nightclub?

Nothing.

I hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think…

No hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d come for me.

I wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested, stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I stopped trying to move, preserving my energy.

I tried to swallow.

No saliva.

I tried to speak.

No voice.

I tried to remember what happened.

I tried to remember…

Panic.

Nothing.

I can’t remember.

“Get up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again. Get.”

I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.

I’ll miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter.

“I’m not dying, you know.” I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at the final call flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all.

“Call me the moment you get there.”

“Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart—

The memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop.

Who was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening?

“I said get up, bitch.” The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully unprotected.

Unfortunately.

My captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold.

My legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasn’t a masquerade.

This was real.

This is real.

My heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong.

I was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had left—remaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other side of my blindfold.

Moans and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind.

I willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into place, so I could make sense of this horrible world I’d awoken in.

But my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know.

The pushing stopped. So did I.

Big mistake.

“Move.” A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My bare feet traversed…wood?

Bare feet?

Where are my shoes?

The missing knowledge twisted my stomach.

Where did I come from?

How did I end up here?

What’s my name?

It wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness. It was the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.

How could I deal with this new world if I didn’t know what skills I had to stay alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me out?

Who am I?

To have who I was deleted…It was unthinkable.

“Faster, bitch.” Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could for dips or trips.

“Step down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as my toes navigated the small steps before me.

“Again.”

I obeyed.

“Last one.”

I managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face.

My face.

What do I look like?

A loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine form. The woman behind me cried out—the first verbal sound of another.

“Move.” The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by…copper and metallic…blood?

Why…why is that so familiar?

I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.

“Don’t overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it bleed. It’s what you’re doing to make it live.” My professor shook his head, waiting for me to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in progress.

My heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy that’d been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. He’d survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace the vocation I was called to do.

Inhaling the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell of the creature’s life force until it no longer affected me.

Picking up a scalpel, I said, “I’m ready—”

“Holy fuck!” The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped.

“Wire—get me fucking reinforcements. He’s started a motherfucking war!”

Wind and body motion swarmed me as men charged from behind. The darkness I lived in suddenly came alive with sound.

Bullets flew, impaling themselves into the metal sides of the vehicle I’d just stepped from. Pings and ricochets echoed in my ear. Curses bellowed; moans of pain threaded like a breeze.

Someone grabbed my arm, swinging me to the side. “Get down!” The inertia of his throw knocked me off balance. With my wrists bound together, I had nothing to grab with, no way to protect myself from falling.

I fell.

My stomach swooped as tumbled off a small platform and smashed against the ground.

Dirt, damp grass, and moldy leaves replaced the stench of blood, cutting through the cloying sharpness of spilled metallic. My mouth opened, gasping in pain. Blades of grass tickled my lips as my cheek stuck to wet mud.

My shoulder screamed with agony, but I ignored the new injury. My mind clung to the unlocked memory. The fleeting recollection of my profession.

I’m a vet.

The sense of homecoming and security that one little snippet brought was priceless. My soul snarled for more, suddenly ravenous for missing information.

I skipped straight from fumbling uncertainty into starvation for more.

Tell me! Show me. Who am I?

I searched inside for more clues. But it was like trying to grab on to an elusive dream, fading faster and faster the harder I chased.

I couldn’t remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew was I’d been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasn’t afraid of it. I didn’t faint or suffer sickness at the sight of it pouring from an open wound.

That tiniest knowledge was enough to settle my prickling nerves and focus on the outside world again.

Battle cries. Men screaming. Men growling. The dense thuds of fists on flesh and the horrible deflection of gunshots.

I couldn’t understand. Had I fallen through time and entered an alternate dimension?

Another body landed on top of mine.

I cried out, winded from a sharp poke of an elbow to my ribs.

The figure rolled away, crying softly. Feminine.

Why aren’t I crying?

I once again searched for fear. It wasn’t natural not to be afraid. I’d woken up alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I wasn’t hyperventilating or panicked.

My calmness was like a drug, oozing over me, muting the sharp starkness of my situation. It was bearable if I embraced courage and the knowledge that I was strong.

My hands balled, grateful for the thought. I didn’t know who I was, but it didn’t matter, because the person who I was in this moment mattered the most.

I had to remain segmented, so I could get through whatever was about to happen. All I had was gut instinct, quiet strength, and rationality. Everything else had been taken.

“Stop fighting, you fucking idiots!”

The loud growl rumbled like an earthquake, hushing the battle in one fell swoop. Whoever had spoken had power.

Immense power. Colossal power.

A shiver darted over my skin.

“What the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovin’ mind?” a man yelled.

A sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose.

“It’s done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.” The same earthquake rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against the damp ground.

“I’m not bending nothing, you asshole. You aren’t my Prez!”

“I am. Have been for the past four years.”

“You’re not. You’re his bitch. Don’t think his power is yours.”

Another fight—muffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan.

The earthquake voice came again. “Open your eyes and follow the red fucking river. Your chosen—the one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take over the Club—he’s dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me Prez for a fucking reason?”

Another moan.

“I’m the chosen one. I’m the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the legacy, and earned his way into power. You don’t know shit. Nobody does. So bend a fucking knee and respect.”

Another tremor ran down my back.

Silence for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a barely muttered curse. “You’ll die. One way or another, we won’t put up with a Dagger as a Prez. We’re the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a traitor rule us is a fucking joke.”

“I’m the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead? I’m the traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?” A heavy thud of a fist connected with flesh. “No…I’m not. You are.”

My mind raced, sucking up noises and forming wild conclusions of what happened before me. Was this World War Three? Was this the apocalypse of the life I couldn’t remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I couldn’t make sense of anything.

The air was thick with anticipation. I didn’t know how many men stood before me. I didn’t know how many corpses littered the ground, or how such violence could be permitted in the world I used to know. But I did know the cease-fire was fragile and any moment it would explode.

A single threat slithered through the grass like a snake. “I’ll kill you, motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take you out.”

The gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. “The Corrupts haven’t existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the seat, it’s been Pure Corruption all the way. And you’re not fucking pure enough for this Club. You’re done.”

I flinched as the sulfuric boom of a gun ripped through the stagnant air.

A crash as a body fell lifeless to the grass. A soft puff of a soul escaping.

Murder.

Murder was committed right before me.

The inherent need to nurture and heal—the part of me that was as steadfast as the beat of my heart—wept with regret.

Death was something I’d fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless.

I hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadn’t been able to stop it.

I’m a witness.

And yet, I’d witnessed nothing.

I’d been privy to a battle but seen nothing. Knew no one. I would never be able to tell who shot whom, or who was right and who was wrong.

My hands shook, even though I managed to stay eerily calm. Am I in shock? And if I was, how did I cure myself?

The woman beside me curled into a ball, her knees digging into my side. My first reaction was to repel away from the touch. I didn’t know who was friend or foe. But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my calmness—to let her know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone. We faced the same future—no matter how grim.

Voices cascaded over us, whispers mainly, quickly spoken orders. Every sound was heightened. Being robbed of sight made my body seek other ways in which to find clues.

“Get rid of the bodies before daybreak.”

“We’ll go back and make sure we’re still covered.”

“Send out the word. It’s over. The Prez won—no anarchy today.”

Each voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble that set my skin quivering like quicksand.

He hadn’t spoken since he’d condemned someone to death and pulled the trigger. Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I wasn’t afraid. I should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he invoked something in me—something primal. Just like I knew I was female and a vet, I knew his voice meant something. Every inch of me tensed, waiting for him to speak. It was wrong to crave the voice of a killer, but it was the only thing I wanted.

Needed.

I need to know who he is.

Wet mud sucked loudly against boots as they came closer.

The woman whimpered, but I angled my chin toward the sound, wishing my eyes were uncovered.

I wanted to see. I wanted to witness the carnage before me. Because it was carnage. The stench of death confirmed it. It was morbid to want to see such destruction, but without my sight all of this seemed like a terrible nightmare. Nothing was grounded—completely nonsensical and far too strange.

I needed proof that this was real.

I needed concrete evidence that I wasn’t mad. That my body was intact, even if my mind was not.

I sucked in a breath as warm fingers touched my cheek, angling my face upward and out of the mud. Strong hands caressed the back of my skull, fumbling with my blindfold.

The anticipation of finally getting my wish to see made me stay still and cooperative in his hold.

I didn’t say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened.

The man’s breath was heavy and low, interspersed with a quick catch of pain. His fingers were swift and sure, but unable to hide the small fumble of agony.

He’s hurt.

The pressure of the blindfold suddenly released, trading opaque darkness for a new kind of gloom.

Night sky. Moonshine. Stars above.

Anchors of a world I knew, but no recognition of the dark-shrouded industrial estate where blood gleamed silver-black and corpses dotted the field.

I’m alive.

I can see.

The joy at having my eyes freed came and went as blazing as a comet.

Then my life ended as our gazes connected.

Green to green.

I have green eyes.

Down and down I spiraled, deeper and deeper into his clutches.

My life—past, present, and future—lost all purpose the second I stared into his soul.

The fear I’d been missing slammed into my heart.

I quivered. I quaked.

Something howled deep inside with age-old knowledge.

Every part of me arched toward him, then shied away in terror.

Him.

A nightmare come to life.

A nightmare I wanted to live.

If life was a tapestry, already threaded and steadfast, then he was the scissors that cut me free. He tore me out, stole me away, changed the whole prophecy of who I was meant to be.

Jaw-length dark hair, tangled and sweaty, framed a square jaw, straight nose, and full lips. His five-o’clock stubble held remnants of war, streaked with dirt and blood. But it was his eyes that shot a quivering arrow into my heart, spreading his emerald anger.

He froze, his body curving toward mine. Blistering hope flickered across his features. His mouth fell open and love so achingly deep glowed in his gaze. “What—” A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands shook as he cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my cheekbones. “It’s not—”

My heart raced. Yes.

“You know me,” I breathed.

The moment my voice webbed around us, storm clouds rolled over the sunshine in his face, blackening the hope and replacing it with pure hatred.

He changed from watching me like I was his angel to glowering as if I were a despicable devil.

I shivered at the change—at the iciness and hardness. He breathed hard, his chest rising and falling. His lips parted, a rumbling command falling from his mouth to my ears. “Stand up. You’re mine now.”

When I didn’t move, his hand landed on my side. His touch was blocked by clothing but I felt it everywhere. He stroked my soul, tickled my heart, and caressed every cell with fingers that despised me.

I couldn’t suck in a proper breath.

With a vicious push, he rolled me over, and with a sharp blade sliced my bindings. With effortless power, so thrilling and terrifying, he hauled me to my feet.

I didn’t sway. I didn’t cry. Only pulled the disgusting gag from my mouth and stared in silence.

I stared up, up, up into his bright green eyes, understanding something I shouldn’t understand.

This was him.

My nightmare.

ruin & rule bt teaser 2

About the Author

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Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.

She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

Her Dark Erotica books include:

Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)

Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)

Her Grey Romance books include:

Destroyed

STALK Pepper: Website | Pinterest | Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Goodreads

Review: ★Priest★ by Sierra Simone

Priest
Author: Sierra Simone
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: June 29, 2015

There are many rules a priest can’t break. 
A priest cannot marry. A priest cannot abandon his flock. A priest cannot forsake his God.

I’ve always been good at following rules. 
Until she came. 
My name is Tyler Anselm Bell. I’m twenty-nine years old. Six months ago, I broke my vow of celibacy on the altar of my own church, and God help me, I would do it again. 
I am a priest and this is my confession.

*Priest is a standalone, full-length novel with an HEA. For mature audiences only.*

I stopped seeing a penitent.
I stopped seeing a child of God.
I stopped seeing a lost lamb in need of a shepherd.
I saw only a woman in need- ripe, delicious need.

Look, it’s no secret that I happen to have a soft spot for dirty kinky priests. I have been forever ruined by the Original Sinners series and haven’t looked back since. So when I saw the synopsis for this book, I didn’t even give it a second thought; I knew I had to read it and meet this Tyler Anselm Bell. I read this book in one sitting, and if there’s one thing I can tell you with utmost certainty it’s that Sierra Simone is an incredibly talented author. I absolutely LOVED her writing style. I also know that I would without a doubt read all of her future books. Did Priest live up to my expectations? Yes and no. It did in the sense that I got what I thought I would be getting; a dirty kinky priest. Lord, but he was dirty. Pun most definitely intended. (Amen) If I were to rate on the smut factor alone, this would be a 5 point punch straight to the ovaries. But I’ve evolved quite a bit from the reader that can enjoy mere smut. I know, I know, I’m shocked at this growth myself. And while Priest was a book that I enjoyed for the steam, the rest of the book wasn’t strong enough to bring it up from a “like” 3 star to a 4 or 5 star read.

Tyler is 29 years old and hasn’t exactly lived the life of a saint, especially in his carnal relations. He’s a man of peculiar tastes, and his tastes are certainly….intense. But three years ago, a tragic event changed his life irrevocably. And so he took a vow of celibacy to become a priest. You don’t know wha this “event” is right away, and the author reveals the details of it throughout the course of the book. However, this was the first thing that worked against it for me. When it was finally revealed, it still didn’t make me connect to Tyler’s reasons to do this. How something like this would make him turn toward the church is tough to explain, especially since it had the exact opposite effect on the rest of his family. And the mere fact how it hurt his mother played against it too. I just couldn’t justify it or make sense of it in my head to truly connect to it.

I was sorry that I hadn’t controlled my desire long enough to step into a cold shower or go for a run or any of the other tricks I’d learned over the past three years to stifle my urges.
Mostly…
Mostly, I’m sorry that I’m not sorry.
Dammit, I wasn’t sorry at all.

Then along came Poppy to tempt him down the path of sin…
What first began as a confession soon began to turn into an obsession. Tyler is inexplicably draw to Poppy. Something about her seems to tempt his inner sinner and makes him want to do bad, bad things.

Poppy was a heroine that I never connected with from the very beginning. She was such a two dimensional character. I found no depth to her whatsoever. Here you have this woman that had a wonderful childhood but with parents who wanted a lot from her. They didn’t encourage her dreams of going to Julliard, but instead pushed her to go down the same path that every female of the upper crust follows; get an education, marry an equally rich man, and do charity work. Wanting more from her life, Poppy leaves it all behind to become a stripper. (But a high end one) Yep, that made total sense…. Not really.

Throughout the book, I never could grow to like her. Perhaps it was because it was because the story is told only in Tyler’s POV. But really, she just struck me as a somewhat vapid character. There was nothing more to her besides the lust that she induces in Tyler. Or if there was, I never really found it.

….our eyes locked and we surged past every barrier- stranger and stranger, priest and penitent, Tyler and Poppy. We were simply male and female, as God had made us, Adam and Eve, in the most elemental and fundamental form. We were biology, we were creation incarnate…

The sex between them was absolutely scorchingly hot. And so dirty. Lord but when these two sin, they go all out. To be honest, it almost felt like the book was trying to be taboo too hard at certain scenes.

Sacred and profane were blending and blurring together, fusing and welding themselves into something new and whole and singular, and if this was what love was, then I didn’t know how anyone could bear the weight of it.

I found the connection between Tyler and Poppy to be a little hard to believe. Even though everything happens over a span of weeks, it read like hours. It was just way too fast. How a mere sight of a woman can lead someone like Tyler that made the choice to be what he is so quickly, I just don’t know. There was nothing more to it besides him being attracted to her and being turned on by her confessions. Tyler wasn’t exactly a saint before he became a priest. He was a man that liked his sex and more on the kinky side. It made sense I suppose, that it wouldn’t take much to tempt him back to the dark side, but I still needed a little more. Also, considering they have the fear of discovery, these two were completely thoughtless to that when it came down to business. They went at it everywhere without a second thought as to who may see them. I’ll even admit that certain scenes even made this seasoned pervert cringe (view spoiler). So…yeah.

Now all that aside, I still read this book in one sitting. I enjoyed the writing stile immensely and the book was highly entertaining. While it lacked a few things to make it a 4 or 5 star read for me, it was still a very solid 3 stars. I did like it, all quibbles aside. But would I read it again? Probably not.

Review: ★Asking For It★ by @LilahPace

Asking for It
Author: Lilah Pace
Genre: Erotic, Contemporary
Release Date: June 2, 2015

This is who I am. This is what I want. Now I need a man dangerous enough to give it to me.”

Graduate student Vivienne Charles is afraid of her own desires—ashamed to admit that she fantasizes about being taken by force, by a man who will claim her completely and without mercy. When the magnetic, mysterious Jonah Marks learns her secret, he makes an offer that stuns her: they will remain near-strangers to each other, and meet in secret so that he can fulfill her fantasy.

heir arrangement is twisted. The sex is incredible. And—despite their attempts to stay apart—soon their emotions are bound together as tightly as the rope around Vivienne’s wrists. But the secrets in their pasts threaten to turn their affair even darker…

Reader Advisory: Asking for It deals explicitly with fantasies of non-consensual sex. Readers sensitive to portrayals of non-consensual sex should be advised.

You can have neat, tidy, and safe. You can have tame. Or you can have what you really want. But you can’t have both, Vivienne. And I think we both know which one you’re going to choose.”

Thought provoking, evocative, erotic, and unlike anything I’ve ever read before. I am absolutely blown away by this book. I didn’t know quite what to expect when I began reading it, but I never envisioned something like this. Aside from anything else, this book will make you think. It will take every line your mind never had thought to have crossed and burn them in one erotic blaze. Do not take the warning in this book lightly, because it’s everything that it talks about. This is not a subject matter that will be for everyone. But if you’re unsure whether you want to read it? I say dive in without a backwards glance because it will be one of the most unique books you’d ever have read. That much I can guarantee.

If you’ve read Willing Victim and/or Debt and wondering if this book is anything like that? The answer is a resounding no. The heroine is not bored with her sex life and looking to spice things up with one night of something rougher; she craves the darker fantasy with every fiber of her being. The heroine is also not one that’s introduced to the rougher edge by the hero; they both equally crave it. And most importantly, at the core of this story it’s not quite a romance….yet. It’s definitely erotic with a slow building undercurrent of romance that floats right under the surface but never quite breaches it. I’m assuming the romance aspect we’ll get in Begging for It.

This is who I am. This is what I want. Now I need a man dangerous enough to give it to me.

Vivienne Charles is twenty-five year old graduate student at the UT Austin School of Art and a teaching assistant. She’s also an artist that creates unique drawings. She’s a regular woman, with regular friends, and regular boyfriends. But beneath all that is a woman that craves something darker. Something that she equal parts needs and brings her shame. Unable to orgasm with any of her previous boyfriends unless she fantasizes about being taken forcefully, bent to someone else’s will and completely owned, Vivienne recognizes that what she needs during sex is anything but conventional. In therapy for many years because she understands the root of her desire, she’s attempting to deal with it. But that doesn’t mean that she can turn it off that easily. She just never thought she’d meet a man that could deliver them…

When she gets a flat tire driving home late one evening, a stranger that pulls over on the side of the road is able to induce the kind of reaction from her that her boyfriends never could with just his stare. Equally terrified of him and drawn to him, she never expects to see him again after he drives off once he’s helped her. Little does she know that she’ll soon not only meet him but find that he’s been closer to her than she’s ever known.

At a friend’s party, Vivienne comes face to face with Jonah Marks; the same man that she’s been fantasizing being taken forcefully by on the side of that road. Jonah is a research professor of Volcanology at the same university Vivienne attends. He’s also quiet, mysterious and still manages to evoke the same reaction from her if not even stronger one. When Jonah overhears her ex-boyfriend disclose her most private sexual desires, the last thing that she expects is for him to make her an offer that she’s both been fantasizing about and terrified of.

What soon begins is the acting out of a mutual and consensual fantasy. A fantasy that they both crave but for very different reasons.

I dream about tearing that dress off your body. When I close my eyes I see you the way you were afterward. Wrecked. And what I want more than anything else is to wreck you all over again.

The author doesn’t dance around the provocative subject of rape fantasies. She throws you right into the deep end and she does it flawlessly. The story is told only in Vivienne’s POV while Jonah remains the enigmatic mystery that he is for most of the book. The only pieces you get of him is what Vivienne does, so you get to experience everything along with her. It truly allows the reader to get inside the heroine’s head and get the full effect. You get this sense of ‘it sounds like it should be wrong but it’s oh so hot at the same time’. Knowing as little as you do about Jonah really makes that line between fear and arousal all that much bolder.

He’s brought me back to the line between fear and arousal. And Jonah’s going to hold me there as long as he wants.

This is very much a slow burn. It’s erotic, that’s for damn sure. There’s also the potential for romance that sizzles right under the surface but it never comes out. I appreciate that the author did that because it really allows the reader to get to know the characters and truly get what makes them tick. Adding any clear element of romance into this book would have ruined the effect. It wouldn’t have fit.

He’s making this last longer, because he wants to revel in his power over me. Jonah wants to show me how helpless I am. Whatever he gives me, I have to take.

I loved Lilah Pace’s writing style. That’s what truly made this book as provocative as it was. Although everything that goes on is very much consensual, she’s also able to weave in that little bit of an edge. You feel the struggle that Vivienne has with craving what she does and her shame of it. You also get to feel her question whether or not she should fear it. It was brilliantly handled.

I loved the depth that both of these characters had. Though they have one thing in common, their reasons for it are very different. I never expected this book to be quite as deep as it was. (no pun intended). It’s not thoughtless smut and acting out a dark and kinky fantasy. It’s so so much more.

Each of us assumed the other was simply indulging a kinky fetish, when in fact we were shepherding each other through our nightmares.

You know how sometimes you read a book and you really don’t see how it couldn’t just be one longer one? Or that the cliffhanger that was thrown in was done for pure shock value alone? This book is neither of those things. If ever there was a story that needed to be told in two parts, this is it. I can appreciate that the reader needs that clear division of getting to know the characters and then getting their love story. It’s what made this book was it was. And while it does end in a place where you know book two will follow, it wasn’t a shocking cliffhanger either; more of a to be continued. I appreciated that as well. The author could have gone there had she wanted to, but she stayed true to the story and didn’t. I can definitely tell you that Lilah Pace now has a huge fan in me and she’s going straight to my auto-buy list. I’m eagerly anticipating the conclusion to this story and can’t wait to see how it all resolves.

Blog Tour, Review & #Giveaway: ★The Slayer★ by @Kele_Moon

Title: The Slayer (Untamed Hearts, #2)
Author: Kele Moon
Genre: Erotic | Contemporary Romance
Release Date: March 31, 2015
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To Chuito the apartment was a self-imposed prison for a lifetime of sins. To Alaine, the girl next door, it was salvation from her overbearing, religious father.He was a devil.
She was an angel.

Two people who should’ve never met, let alone become friends, but it’s not until they give into the dangerous passion that’s been simmering under the surface for five years that things go to hell.

On the outside, Chuito ‘The Slayer’ Garcia is on top of the world. He’s successful. He’s wealthy. He’s a champion MMA fighter surrounded by friends who support him, but they don’t know what he was before he came to Garnet.

A gangster.
A thief.
An addict.
A murderer.

Now his past is churning up demons he can’t ignore. Chuito knows he needs to go back to Miami to end it, but there’s something holding him back, a single temptation he can’t resist before leaving.

Alaine.

She’s the one drug he can’t give up…even if it destroys them both.

“To me you’re coke. Fine. Smooth. Perfectly white. Very bad for me, but so fucking sexy I don’t give a shit. It’s worth going down for.” – Chuito Garcia

His destiny always found him no matter how much he ran from it. As sure as Chuito knew the next breath would have to enter his lungs whether he wanted it to or not, he knew that Alaine couldn’t be his forever.

This was THE best fighter romance I’ve read. Ever. To date.

This was Kele’s best book to date.

This is a book that will not only stay with me but it’s going straight to my re-read shelf along with my top 5 favorites.

Simply said, I loved the absolute FUCK out of this book.

I can’t tell you that I loved Chuito in the previous books because let’s be honest here, the man can be a true asshole to anyone that isn’t his closest friends or family. If you’ve read The Viper and saw how he treated Marcos’ girlfriend, you know what I’m talking about. But beneath the tattoos, the title belt, the reputation, and the rough gangster exterior is the heart of a protector. Chuito is a man that does everything fiercely; the way he lives, the way he fucks, and definitely the way he loves. He will do anything for his family. Even if it means selling his soul to the devil, or better yet the Italian mob, to protect his best friend and cousin.

Fate caught up with everyone eventually. Even the devil wasn’t immune to it.

The Slayer will take you back to the beginning and really give you the bones of Chuito’s story, and it is no light read. This is not a man that had an easy life. This is someone that got his first battle scars on the streets, running with a gang that’s only more dangerous when it’s crossed. But when he saw a way out, he took it. Unfortunately, the life had already fully sucked in his cousin and he was unable to help him then. The story line here mixed in with the events of Crossing the Line, and to truly appreciate this book, I would highly recommend reading that first.

Alaine is a ray of life that Chuito never expected to deserve or to give him the time of day. But when the beautiful young woman becomes his neighbor, the begin an incredibly strong friendship. Alaine has been in love with Chuito for as long as she’s known him. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t call to every feminine part of her. Now let me tell you, watching the way that Chuito is with her will absolutely melt your heart. This is not a man that ever hides his feelings or leads her on. He’s not your typical manwhore that sleeps around to take his mind off of the one woman he doesn’t think he can have or deserves. He couldn’t be further from that. But that doesn’t mean that he gives into her. She’s too good for him, too pure. His past and his life can always catch up with him. His current situation with Tino isn’t exactly one he wants touching her either. So while he loves her, he knows he can never give her more than that.

I just love you. That’s it. Only love. Not sex. I can just love someone. Love is good. Sex is cruel.”

Their connection was something that absolutely drew you in. The chemistry between them is so palpable it’s electric. Their private dancing is just the icing on the cake.


Listen to the drums. That’s the part you listen to. Feel it.”
“I’m feeling it.”
No. Feel it like a heartbeat. Like life. You want it to be a love song, hear the sex in it. Hold me like I hold you.” He jerked her tighter against him as he said it, forcing her breasts to crush against his chest and her dress to ride higher up on her thighs. “Like you need me.”

God but I loved it.

This was not a love story of a few days or even weeks. This was a love story strengthened by friendship and grown through several years. This may just even be one of my most favorite couples I’ve read to date.

Chuito fights the connection between them for a long as he can. But inevitably, it proves to be too much, and when these two finally get together? Well, forget sparks, we’re talking about 4th of July fireworks here. I don’t remember the last time I read a book where the first sexual encounter actually gave me goosebums. With the books I’ve read, believe me when I say that this pervert has been desensitized to most of it. But boy did these two together get my heart pumping.

She clung to his shoulders and let him take her mouth the way he had taken her heart a long time ago- violently and without warning.

But it was so much more than just an incredible love story. At the heart of it, there’s Chuito’s past catching up with him and him fighting like hell to protect Alaine and his cousin from it. There was one scene in this book that was so incredibly gut wrenching to read, I actually had to set the book down for 5 minutes after reading it, just to calm myself.

Gangster tears weren’t ordinary tears. The cut had to be deeper than bone, a hurt that made motherfuckers unrepentant murderers. It ripped open souls and bled out humanity.

All of my favorite secondary characters from previous books made an appearance. And of course what would this series be without Tino and Nova. Now Tino, oh my darling Tino. I freaking love this man. The banter between him and everyone else was the comedic relief that was definitely necessary and oh so welcome.

You just told me you manspaced. You’re fucked up too.”
“It’s a common courtesy,” Tino went on. “No woman wants to suck on a hairy dick.”

But when if there’s one thing that Tino does even more fiercely than Chuito, it’s protecting his loved ones. And there is definitely one heart breaking choice that Tino makes in this book that you just know will haunt him all through his book and I can’t wait to see how that plays out.

I’m pretty sure that I highlighted over half this book. I just couldn’t stop myself. I loved it so hard.

I’m talking everything; the story, the romance, the angst, the heartache, EVERYTHING. As long as this book was (an it was LONG), I never wanted it to end.

This is a book and author that needs to be on everyone’s TBR list. I don’t care who you are, it’s impossible not to fall in love with this series or these characters. If this book doesn’t make you fall head over heels for Chuito and Alaine, then we haven’t been reading the same one. I’m that confident. Kele Moon is an incredibly talented author that continues to write books that are better and better than the last. All have her signature voice, but yet they’re different in the best of ways. No one book, character, or story of hers is the same. I can’t tell you how much I love that. This book will break your heart, it will melt it, and then it will piece it together, all in one breath stealing and captivating story. I simply cannot recommend it enough.

READING ORDER

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A freckle faced, redhead born and raised in Hawaii, Kele Moon has always been a bit of a sore thumb and has come to enjoy the novelty of it. She thrives off pushing the envelope and finding ways to make the impossible work in her story telling. With a mad passion for romance, she adores the art of falling in love. The only rules she believes in is that, in love there are no rules and true love knows no bounds.

So obsessed is she with the beauty of romance and the novelty of creating it she’s lost in her own wonder world most of the time. Thankfully she married her own dark, handsome, brooding hero who had infinite patience for her airy ways and attempts to keep her grounded. When she leaves her keys in the refrigerator or her cell phone in the oven he’s usually there to save her from herself. The two of them now reside in Florida with their three beautiful children who make their lives both fun and challenging in equal parts–They wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Blog Tour, Review & #Giveaway: ★Second Debt★ by @PepperWinters

Second Debt by Pepper Winter is LIVE!
Read the dark & sexy continuation to Jethro & Nila’s Story!
Amazon / Amazon UK / iBooks / Nook / Kobo 
About The Book

“I tried to play a game. I tried to wield deceit as perfectly as the Hawks. But when I thought I was winning, I wasn’t. Jethro isn’t what he seems—he’s the master of duplicity. However, I refuse to let him annihilate me further.”
Nila Weaver has grown from naïve seamstress to full-blown fighter. Every humdrum object is her arsenal, and sex…sex is her greatest weapon of all.
She’s paid the First Debt. She’ll probably pay more.
But she has no intention of letting the Hawks win.
Jethro Hawk has found more than a worthy adversary in Nila—he’s found the woman who could destroy him. There’s a fine line between hatred and love, and an even finer path between fear and respect.
The fate of his house rests on his shoulders, but no matter how much ice lives inside his heart, Nila flames too bright to be extinguished.
Review
4.5 stars

I wanted to be like him. I wanted to protect my secrets so damn well that whatever I did next would come as a surprise.
I wanted to rule him.

When Debt Inheritance came out, Pepper Winters introduced us to the cold, brutal, terrifyingly unfeeling Jethro Hawk. And with each new installment of this series she has been systematically chipping away at his armor to reveal more and more of the man that keeps hidden inside, behind the icy persona. In Second Debt, if you’re not convinced of his internal struggle that he’s been facing since he first laid eyes on Nila Weaver, then we haven’t been reading the same book.

And while Jethro’s steely reinforcements have been tumbling down, Nila has been busy building hers back up. When she comes face to face with the cold hard truth of her imminent future, she can no longer deny it. She knows what’s coming for her and she needs to accept it. She also has to accept the fact that the one man that she’s felt an unwilling connection to will also be the man that deals the death blow. She can’t possibly care for a monster. She needs to be just as cold and lethal as the rest of the Hawks.

I didn’t want food or water or shelter.
I didn’t need love or understanding or connection.
I wanted retribution.
I wanted justice.

But now the tables have turns, and it’s not only Nila that’s facing a danger. For years Jethro has been hiding a secret about who he is…what he is. A secret that just may cost him everything, including his life. It’s a secret that he’s been diligently keeping from everyone in his family. All but his sister Jasmine.

But ever since Nila Weaver has stepped into his life, his methods of keeping it secret no longer suffice. He yearns for her and knows that she may be the only cure to what he needs. Nila is no longer the naive woman that first stepped through the doors of the Hawk estate. She’s learned pain, she’s learned hatred, and she’s ready to taste revenge. But no matter how much she tells herself that Jethro should be at the center focus of her hate, she can’t deny the inexplicable connection that they’ve formed; a connection that he seems to feel just as much.

Our eyes locked with fury.
Then something happened.
Something switched.
Fury became desire.
Desire became insanity.
I couldn’t withstand the command.
“Fuck this.”
I kissed her.

Much like the installments before it, Second Debt is a book that will keep you at the edge of your seat the entire time. Pepper will leave you crying and begging for any new scraps of information that she deems worthy to throw your way. It’s as painful as it is engrossing. You’ll get some answers only to be left with even bigger questions.

What was this…this tether? How had she captured me so completely, and how the fuck did I sever it?
The deeper I fell into her, the worst it got.

Then comes that cliffhanger. I should be used to this by now, 3rd book in, right? Fucking wrong! That was freaking painful. This woman is the queen of giving you just enough while leaving you begging for more. It’s truly a skill, and I for one can’t wait to see what she has up her sleeve next

Series Reading Order

Debt Interitance (Indebted #1) ONLY $0.99

First Debt (Indebted #2)

Second Debt (Indebted #3) January 26th:
About the Author

Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.

She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.

Her Dark Erotica books include:

Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)

Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)

Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)

Her Grey Romance books include:

Destroyed

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