WARNING: STRINGS is not suitable for slut shamers, uptight stone throwers, Holier-Than-Thou prudes, humorless virgins, persons with chronic neck or back pain, pearl-clutching bitties, those who disparage crude humor or vulgarity in their many forms, closed-minded people with sticks up their asses, or anyone under the age of 18. The vile, base language and shocking, unholy sexual acts contained herein are not condoned by anyone with a lick of sense and should certainly not be reproduced without proper training and protection. The potty-mouthed and perpetually horny “heroine” (the term is used loosely) of this book does not resemble a normal, well-adjusted, or remotely believable person in any way, shape, or form. The author acknowledges that the characters in this book are shallow and two-dimensional; the plot is both ridiculous and insipid. She makes no apologies for any of it.
* Readers are strongly advised to wear latex gloves whilst reading to minimize contamination risks.
Free-spirited musician Letty Dillinger adheres to a strict, “no strings attached” policy when it comes to men. After a wild night of unabashed sex in a fancy hotel room, she never expects to see the adventurous stud she dubs “Shades” again. When her all-girl rock trio books a tour at the last minute as the opening act for their archenemies, Letty’s shocked to discover she knows the competition’s new lead singer. Intimately. Shades is no longer a one-night stand. Now he’s the guy she has to one-up on stage every night for the sake of her career.
Sharing close quarters on a bus with her sexy nemesis and his bad-boy buddies puts Letty’s Golden Rule to the test. On this tour, guitar strings aren’t the only things being played. And when heartstrings are pulled too hard, they’re bound to snap sooner or later.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1d2ic2R
WARNING: BEATS is specially formulated for horn dogs, porn oglers, smut peddlers, BDSM junkies, M/M and M/M/F addicts, DP dabblers, and lovers of A2M backdoor sexy times. If you don’t fall into these categories, can’t stomach hot man-on-man action, or if you have no idea what the above acronyms mean, please back away from BEATS now. This isn’t the book you’re looking for. Failure to heed this warning could inadvertently throw unauthorized users into a persistent vegetative state, or at the very least, require administration of a defibrillator to the chest and/or groin area. Nobody wants that.
For months, shy drummer Jinx Hardwick has been silently crushing on her tall, dark, and scary bandmate, Toombs Badcock. Drawn to his frightening ink and scars, she yearns to uncover the shadowy secrets lurking behind his silver eyes, but Jinx is too intimidated to even look at him, let alone talk to him. When she stumbles upon Toombs and their manipulative lead guitarist Rax in a compromising position, Jinx realizes her chances of winning Toombs’s heart aren’t just a long shot—they’re nonexistent. To make matters worse, Jinx’s family needs her at home. She’s about to back away from it all—Toombs, the band, her dreams of fame and fortune—when Rax makes her an offer she can’t refuse: a no-holds-barred night alone with Toombs. There’s one small catch. She has to go through Rax to get it.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/19lkWcR
NOCTURNES contains 511 F-bombs, 81 well-endowed male chickens, 65 girl kitties, 58 Richard the Lessers, 10 C-U-Next-Tuesdays, and a plethora of other colorful words and phrases that would deafen your virginal mother’s ears and make her bust out her “Shame on you!” finger. If you’ve been tuned in since the beginning of the Hard Rock Harlots series, you know the drill. The sex is extreme, the language is graphic, and the story is over the top. Prudes and under 18s need not apply.
WARNING: NOCTURNES addresses serious topics such as alcoholism, prostitution, and cheating. If you’re looking for a barrel of laughs or sunshine and rainbows, this is NOT the book for you.
Rax Wrathbone is the dirty rock star you love to hate. The filthy fantasy slithering through your bed sheets. The serpent in your lady garden. The snake bite in your panties that keeps you sweating all night. He. Is. Sex.
And he’s no good. For anyone.
After a nasty breakup with his best friend and their band’s drummer, Rax is flying solo for the first time in years. Who needs the drama of commitment when the line for your humping booth spans three city blocks? No, groupies and liquor are far finer company than relationships, and they don’t leave bruises after they’ve had their way with you. At least not lasting ones.
Rax’s new adventures as an alcoholic, guitar-slashing one-man show are going along swimmingly until the only woman who’s ever brought him to his knees shimmies down a pole back into his life. Eve doesn’t abide excessive drinking, she has sex with strangers for a living, and she can’t remember Rax’s name to save her life.
She’s perfect in every way.
Now, if he could just get sober long enough to forget his past and convince Eve he’s worthy of her future…
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1cfXigu
Kendall Grey’s Just Breathe Paranormal Series:
Inhale (Just Breathe,1)- http://amzn.to/THRxT3
Exhale (Just Breathe,2)- http://amzn.to/1iJVzWR
Just Breathe (Just Breathe, 3)- http://amzn.to/1mKBijp
Releasing July 14, 2014: HOT BLOODED
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22319105-hot-blooded
WARNING: HOT-BLOODED does NOT end with a happily ever after. It contains drug use and graphic sex, language, and violence. The story is intended to entertain readers, not to condone or glorify illegal or immoral activities. This book is unsuitable for sensitive readers and those under the age of 18.
*Written in 3rd person. Contains a cliffhanger and multiple POVs.
‘Ohana is everything…
When an accident claims her mother’s life, Keahilani Alana must take charge of her ‘ohana (family) or risk losing what little they have. With an underage brother to care for and no education, she has few options. The door to a heavenly hellish opportunity opens when she stumbles upon a valuable secret her mother left behind on the slopes of an extinct volcano—a legacy that tempts the family with riches beyond their wildest dreams. But the secret is much bigger and more sinister than they realize. As reality unravels and exposes eerie truths about the ‘ohana that should have remained deep under the mountain, Keahilani must either resist the call of her blood or risk being consumed by its darkness.
Blake Murphy is an assassin working to infiltrate a new Hawaiian cartel. His investigation reveals that Keahilani, the sexy surfing instructor he pegged as an informant, is much closer to the drug ring than he thought. Passion ignites between them in the bedroom, but their ironclad ties to opposing interests pit them against each other everywhere else.
When tensions reach the breaking point and her ‘ohana is threatened, the only cure for Keahilani’s hot-blooded fury is a loaded clip with a body bag chaser.
They don’t call her Pele for nothing.
EXCERPT:
Blake slammed his hunting knife on the counter of Mahina Surf and Dive and drilled Kea with a hard stare. She ducked back, not meek or frightened as he would expect an innocent victim to act, but with fists up and muscles flexed in a defensive pose, ready to jump over the counter and maul his ass.
After a split second’s pause, she pawed for the knife and almost snagged it, but he was faster. Barely. Damn, she had sharp reflexes. Along with spunk, good looks, and a badass body.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, coming in here with a goddamned weapon?” Her shoulders rose and dipped with a full breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth, but that was all it took to calm her. Her quick recovery brought with it a vicious scowl that packed palpable heat. She lifted her index finger and indicated the door. “Get out of here, asshole.” Her deep, threatening pitch chilled his marrow. The thin words were thick with promise. She would find a way to forcibly remove him if he defied her. No doubt.
God, this woman. Such spirit. Damn shame he had to break her.
When he stood his ground, she dropped a hand out of sight and shuffled around under the—
He snapped the long blade toward her throat but didn’t touch her. “Put your hands where I can see ’em. Now.”
She didn’t move. He encouraged her with a light tap under the chin with the flat of the knife.
“Do it, if you have the balls.” Her low timbre emitted vibrations up the metal, through the hilt, and into his sweaty hand. Next thing he knew, his board shorts were too tight in the crotch.
“I’m pretty sure I left my balls in that hotel room yesterday. You still got ’em, right? Taking good care of them? I might need ’em later.”
Her lip barely curled.
He leaned across the countertop and tugged her arm up from the space it inhabited below. A Glock had attached itself to her hand. Imagine that. Suppressing his flinch, he squeezed her wrist and wrestled the weapon from her—no easy task. If not for his size, she might have been able to pop off a round or two in his direction. He thumbed the safety in place.
Once he gingerly stowed the cursed pistol in the back waistband of his board shorts, he continued. “Now, what would a pretty surfing instructor like you be doing with a gun?” He moseyed to the other side of the counter and joined the party in her personal space, uninvited.
“A shop owner can never be too careful. Lots of knife-wielding perverts out there. A girl’s gotta be prepared for the worst.”
He stuffed the blade down the back of his shorts next to the Glock and propped against the wall. The knife didn’t bother him at all, but the cold metal of the gun bearing down on the slope of his ass made his butt cheeks clench.
“Yeah, you’re right. I just heard about a guy who got castrated by a stray bullet in a fancy condominium last night.” He shook his head and tsked. “I can’t fathom what kind of monster would do that to someone.” He palmed his deflating package and executed an exaggerated, full body shiver.
Her eyes followed him, but the rest of her remained as still as a hunter waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. “Must’ve deserved it.”
“Maybe he was one of those perverts you mentioned. But I doubt he deserved the bullet through the head that killed him.”
She lifted her shoulders and settled her arms into a tight cross over the breasts he’d put on display through the sliding glass at the resort yesterday. “Why are you here, Blake?”
He spread his fingers wide and adopted a friendly attitude. “I had so much fun learning how to surf with you, I decided to come back for another lesson.” He checked his watch. “I’m guessing Bane has more studying to do. Looks like it’s just you and me, babe.”
She pushed past him to the racks on the floor and straightened some wet suits. “Bane will be in shortly. He’ll take care of you.”
He stepped forward and leaned into her neck. Her scent incited another riot in his shorts. “But I want you to take care of me.”
“If you value your penis and testicles, I suggest you back up.”
He laughed. “Trust me, after what happened to that drug dealer last night, I’m not letting you anywhere near my junk.”
The green lava in her eyes cooled to freezing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Inhaling another whiff of her plumeria scent, he stroked her hair. She batted his hand away. He stepped closer, herding her to the nearest clothing display. Heat bounced between them like an echo between canyons.
“You sure about that, sweetheart? Coulda sworn I saw you vacating the crime scene in an all-fire hurry. Granted, you were dressed differently—wig, trench coat, sexy boots—but the swing of that ass is unmistakable.” He eased his gaze down and wrapped it around her butt with a low, appreciative groan. Then he smacked her full, round left cheek.
She rewarded him with a jack slap across the jaw. His mouth filled with liquid rust. He wiped at the corner with the back of his hand, and a trickle of red smeared across his skin.
Enough of this shit. Jamming a knee between hers, he pinned her to the wall with his thigh. He roughly grasped her arms and held her in place.
“You got a real attitude problem, babe.” He thrust his rigid cock into the cradle of her hips. “I gotta say, it’s a huge turn-on. But it kinda bothers me that you left a crime scene last night, dressed up in some kinky costume in a big fuckin’ rush. I’m tempted to call the cops and let ’em know what I saw.” He lowered his cheek to hers, absorbed the steam of her fury, and whispered in her ear, “Unless, of course, you wanna tell me your side of it. Maybe I can help you out.”
She gently rubbed her face against his, breath hot on his flesh. Teasing his lobe with a hard bite, she purred through teeth and skin, “You’re a cop.”
“Nope.”
“What, then?” She ground her tits into his chest and gyrated those goddamn hips.
His erection tightened and lunged for the hot spot between her legs. “Just a dude on vacation, looking for some fun.”
She pulled back and targeted him with her upswept green gems. “Tell me what kind of fun you want.”
“I’m a pretty simple guy. Keep me stocked in weed and women, and I stay out of trouble.”
“Weed and women are trouble.”
He notched his head to the side. “Depends on your definition. Though, a woman like you might be worth the jail time.”
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