Cross a satyr, a siren, and an incubus with rock and roll, and you get Discord’s Desire, a band of panty-dropping hellions whose live shows incite orgies. As booking manager, Liz O’Brien has the monumental task of keeping the boys in line. She’s resistant to glamour of the fae and fame variety, which only makes her more tempting to lead singer, Kieran Blackmore. With his incubus charms, he could have any girl he wants—except Liz, who’s determined to stay professional.
However, when Kieran’s brother sends hitmen after the band, Liz discovers hunters with her abilities who are mortal enemies of the fae. Mercenaries might attack post-show, but Liz has her Beretta to handle that. What terrifies her more than any monster is how she’s falling for Kieran, which triggers every ‘run-away’ sensor in her foster kid handbook. With war brewing between the hunters and the fae, their love can only end in heartbreak.
To her relief, the lights dimmed even more, and the spotlights circled to the front and center stage, casting a hush through the crowd. A smile curled her lips once Kieran’s sultry voice came over the speakers, the effects dropping like a pheromone bomb onto the audience. A visible ripple didn’t cascade through the air, but once his voice reached a familiar intensity and the rest of the band began playing, a huge scream resounded through the crowd.
Even without the incubus abilities at work, she had to admit, the man possessed a toe-curlingly sexy voice. As she scanned over the crowd, the beginnings of the orgy broke out, where strangers locked lips and deepened their kisses. A pair in front of her started getting handsy, and all of a sudden shirts were coming off. They weren’t even finished the first song, and the scent of sex laced through the room.
Liz let out a sigh. This was why she stayed backstage during the shows. Her glamour-resistance turned her into the one sober person at this lust inspired rager. Her dry spell would have to continue for now since she refused to hook up with the tool next to her and didn’t mainline the swell of sexuality like everyone else. Plus, with Mr. Fae Bartender behind her, she needed to act with extra caution. Bolting from fae sent the same message as a red flag to a bull—pretty please, come chase me.
On stage, Trevor thrummed away at the guitar, his fingers plucking over the strings with the skillful focus he always employed. He leaned up to the mic in front of him to add in the background vocals, the sensual tenor blending with Ky’s baritone. Renn’s hair flew as he thrashed away at the drums, his hands moving lightning fast and his hooves tapping the pedals. Meanwhile Jett romanced the length of his bass, providing the deep undercurrent the siren always did as those notes came out soul-wrenching.
Kieran’s voice reached a crescendo, drawing her attention front and forward. Normally when he sang, his gaze cast far and wide over the audience, as if he were romancing the crowd as a whole, but tonight, his eyes were locked on one person alone. She tried to swallow, but her throat grew dry.
Long strands of his dark hair drifted across his eyes as he clutched the microphone and rocked back and forth with it, the intensity projecting in his voice. He’d tossed his patched leather to the floor, stripped to a black wifebeater that clung to him like a second skin and revealed the intricate phoenix tattoo coiling down his arm. His hips shifted while he moved to the beat of the music, his grey jeans clinging to those powerful thighs. Yet nothing snared her as much as his amber eyes focused straight on her the entire time.
Heat flushed through her at his undivided attention, and while she’d like to blame it on all the bump and grind going on around her, Kieran got her hot and bothered. However, she wasn’t one to sit back and melt. Liz met his eyes and winked with a smirk. She caught the hint of a smile by the crinkle in his eyes as he crooned away.
Thanks so much for having me on your blog with my new Release Gabe’s Revenge. This is book two in my series McLeod Security and a lot darker and longer than the first book. You’ll meet some familiar characters from book one in the series, but don’t worry. There are no spoilers, so the series can be read out of order. :-)
Gabe and Lissa took me on quite the journey when I was writing their story, so hold on tight, as they find their way to their Happy Ever After.
Revenge is best served cold…
Gabriel Henshaw is nothing but a monster—a ruthless killer—that’s what Lissa Andrini has always been told. Sold to the man by her own father, she fears for her life, yet she can’t help the insane pull she feels to him. It has to be some form of Stockholm syndrome, surely? It couldn’t possibly be the effect of his Dominant nature effortlessly pulling her under his spell and awakening her latent submissive side.
Beating Andrini to a bloody pulp soothes Gabe’s rage temporarily, but that leaves his daughter. Were it not for a promise to her mother, he’d refuse this payment, not least because Lissa Andrini awakens all of his protective and carnal instincts. The perfect counterfoil for his darker needs and desires, she has the power to bring him to his knees.
Can love flourish when you’re a pawn in a dangerous game?
Be Warned: BDSM, spanking, anal sex, Daddy Dom/little girl play
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07DVMK2Y4/
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07DVMK2Y4/
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07DVMK2Y4/
“Fuck you, Sir.”
The snarky intonation she put on that title, while she yanked her chin up and did her best to stare him down, should have made him do good on his promise to put her over his knee. However, the slight wobble in her bottom lip, coupled with the way every delectable curve of her body was pressed into his frame, meant any such action would be a very bad idea indeed. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her, and he didn’t want her first time to be angry sex. She deserved better than that.
“Oh, fuck, we will, my dear, but not now and not here.”
Her eyes grew wide, her already fast breaths sped up even more, and Gabe swallowed a groan. He let go of her and stepped back for some much-needed breathing space. As it was his cock was trying his hardest to break out the confines of the denim surrounding it. Gabe couldn’t even remember the last time he wanted a woman this damn much.
“So, you’re going to add rape to your rap sheet. Murdering innocent women wasn’t enough for you?”
A gasp from behind them alerted Gabe to Mavis’s presence, and sure enough when he turned his head it was to see her standing there. Hands pushed into the pockets of her ever-present apron her lips were pressed into a fine line, signaling her disapproval.
“Parkinson is here, Gabe,” she said.
“Thank you, Mavis, I’ll be there in a minute.”
She nodded, glanced at Lissandra and shook her head.
“Tell her the truth, Gabe, all of it. Or this will never work.”
With that, she turned and left them alone on the terrace.
“Oh my God, she knows, doesn’t she? I thought she was nice and I could trust her. Oh, I’m such a fool.”
Lissandra tried to get past him, but he stepped in her way.
“Lissa, don’t.” She pushed against his chest in a vain effort to make him move and then glared up at him.
“Don’t you dare call me that. Only Mama ever called me that. Don’t you fucking dare…” She slammed her hand over her mouth and shook her head. Misery and despair rolled off of her in waves, and Gabe had to fight the urge to take her in his arms. She wouldn’t welcome that move right now, if ever, and now was not the time.
Instead he crossed his arms over his chest, widened his stance, and simply looked at her.
“I’ll call you anything I damn well, please, little girl, and you will lose the attitude. I told you last night, you’re mine now, so you better get used to it. As for Mavis, she is the most loyal person I ever met. Without her, I doubt I would have survived my childhood, so you be nice to her, do you hear me?”
“Or what? You’ll kill me, too?” The mumbled reply grated, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be six feet under already, girl. After the hit on your father went wrong, I’ve never trusted anyone else to do the killing for me ever again.” He waited for that to sink in, and sure enough her head came up, and she stared wide-eyed, confusion evident on her face.
“I thought… it wasn’t…”
“No, little girl. I’m not such a bastard that I would rob a child of its mother, especially when that mother’s only crime was falling in love and staying with that fucker, Andrini. Besides, I prefer to kill with my hands. Much more satisfying.” He uncrossed his arms and wrapped his hands around her slender throat. Her heartbeat jumped under his palms, and he squeezed just once before he released her. “To feel the life draining out a piece of scum that crossed me … that’s sweet.”
“You’re a monster.” Her whispered reply made him grin.
“Yes, I suppose I am. You better get used to it, little girl, and don’t get any silly ideas of crossing me. You behave and do as you’re told, and we’ll get along just fine.”
She swallowed hard, but gave the tiniest nod, and that would have to do for now.
“Good girl, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“So, you’ll kill me if I don’t behave?” She mimed quotation marks around that one word and nudged her chin up in a move of defiance that simply served to make him harder. It would be fun to tame all that passion, indeed, and knowing that he would be the first man ever to touch her, to teach her … fuck, what a turn-on that was. Gabe had never cared much about being the first. He wasn’t possessive over the women he fucked. That would mean he cared about them to be anything more than a convenient set of holes to sink his dick into, but this was Lissandra Andrini. His revenge and he was fast beginning to realize his destiny, too. Whether she’d also prove to be his downfall remained to be seen.
“Killing is too easy an out. That’s the only reason Andrini still lives. I want him to suffer, to wallow in his own filth. Death is too good for the likes of him. As for you…” He paused and smiled. “I’ve already told you what I’ll do to you. And once that ass of yours is red raw I will fuck it, so, maybe I’ll kill you after all with the petit mort, at least.”
Her sharp intake of breath almost sounded like a moan, and acting on instinct, he stepped closer, and shoved his hand under her robe to cup her mound. Wet heat greeted his palm, and he smirked, while a blush suffused her pale skin.
“What are you? You can’t … oh…” She tried to clamp her legs together, but one shake of his head stopped her. He forced himself to remove his hand, looked at the glistening evidence of her arousal on his palm and held it up for her to see.
“Protest all you want, Lissa. Hate me if you must, but your body doesn’t lie.” He licked the wetness off his hands and immediately regretted that, as her feminine musk hit his nostrils. Damn, she smelled good.
“I do, I hate you.” Her denial was too breathy to be truly effective, and Gabe laughed.
“No problem, my sweet. You don’t have to like me to enjoy fucking me. Now, go and get dressed, and meet me in the living room in ten minutes. Don’t make me wait, or so help me I drag you out there like this or maybe naked.” He grinned at her simmering outrage. “I’m sure my men would enjoy the view.”
“You wouldn’t dare?”
Gabe threw his head back and laughed.
“Oh, my sweet, never dare the monster.”
Doris is a writer of sensual, sassy, and sexy tales involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get. From contemporary to paranormal, Sci-fi, BDSM, M/M, and Ménage, haunting love stories are guaranteed.
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Even colder heart…
There’s an instant quick blast of energy when we’re anywhere near. I feel him radiate through me like fire and ice. He’s so far away, yet so damn close.
He’s the first man I can’t look away from. The only man I’ll take any way … on any terms.
Captain for the Dallas Blue Hawks, Rhett Gentry is unfriendly. Hard. Indifferent. Cold as a bitter wind in the Rocky Mountains. He’s loved hard. Given his everything. Lesson learned … never risk another broken heart.
Days are all the same for Rhett. Work … Promises… Obligations…
It is what it is.
Until it isn’t.
He keeps appearing out of nowhere. He knows I’m interested. I can’t hide the fact. Yet, a man like Rhett is used to women looking his way. Used to turning a blind eye.
Until he doesn’t.
“I want your trust,” he demands, his stare heavy.
I laugh under my breath at the irony of that statement. Players … Users … They can’t be tamed for anything permanent.
Rhett Gentry is the kind of beauty that has women chasing the puck to be near him. Giggling like teenagers for a simple smile or autograph. Tall, dark and handsome, the famous hockey player is hiding a secret. But I fall anyway. Our chemistry is undeniable. Unmistakable. But as much as my heart longs for his, I fear his past may very well prevent our future. My heart keeps telling me there’s only one true love in Rhett’s life.
And it isn’t me…
Someone once said, “The tragedy of life is not death … but what we let die inside of us while we live.” Hardships sometimes leave us bitter. Change our perspective. Lead us into the dark. And swallow us.
Resembling more of a special ops soldier than a trained caregiver, when Rebecca Manning, RN, walks through the door showing no emotion, the moment leaves an ugly, begrudging taste in my mouth. Other than a quick agitating exhale through the nose that’s too large for her small rounded face, she’s silent, only checking vitals and hurriedly entering something into her tablet like she can’t get away quickly enough. Her silence doesn’t sit well with me, so I do what I’ve done each time she’s walked through the door the last four hours. With an exaggerated lift of my chest, I exhale with a long breath of fuck you and hiss, “It’s too motherfucking cold in here.”
She glares at me, holding her temperament in check. “I’ll adjust the air, Mr. Gentry,” she counters in a voice far from feminine.
Another wave of enraged spite sweeping through me, I lift my good arm, giving the silver rolling table an angry push. It ends against the wall with a wrath-intended bang, the dinner tray crashing onto the floor with unmistakable green Jell-O oozing from underneath an overturned small white bowl.
Tubes and monitors are everywhere you look in this horrific place. The smell of sickness and death fills the air. Robotic doctors and nurses going through the steps to mend broken people. Prolonging lives for another day, a few minutes longer. And all I can do is sit here helpless. Hopeless. Not a fucking thing I can do to change the situation.
I detest this place.
Hate this sick world we live in.
Self-reproach fists my gut, my mind drifting to only hours earlier. Driving toward downtown, the radio blaring Guns N’ Roses. Singing at the top of my lungs. Not a damn thing on my mind but the good. The evening ahead. Tomorrow. Next year.
Nothing else to do as I return to reality, I scan through channels of shit I don’t care to watch, freezing as I listen to my own name making the local news.
This can’t be happening.
Was it something I said?
Something I did?
My chest aches. Everything hurts. My shoulder… My gut… My legs… My dick…
Minutes seem like fucking years.
And this hell … is only the beginning.
Directly across from me, which is everywhere I don’t want her to be, she nonetheless chooses to keep her distance. Avoiding what we both know is beyond the point of ignoring, her soft blue eyes beam with curiosity as I imagine all the damn places I want to explore. After several beats, she blinks, turning away from me.
“Look at me, Kass.”
She turns back to face me, a hint of pink in her cheeks that makes me want to kiss her for long drawn-out minutes until her modesty is forever gone. For a few seconds I can’t even form words as I look into her gaze that sets something off behind my chest. This urgency is unexpected and perplexing. Everything inside my head is unethical when it comes to her.
“Have you daydreamed about me touching you, Kass?” Her lips drop open at the bluntness of my question, her soft sigh telling me everything I need to know. This woman is an unwinnable war that I’m confident I’m losing.
“Yes.” Her whisper of an answer is so quiet that I only read her lips.
Blood instantly shoots through my cock at her soft response, a rumble of satisfaction pulling deep through my chest. “I’ve made myself come thinking about you and those beautiful eyes.” I ease my legs open, giving her full sight to the thickening behind my jeans and leaving her to her own speculations. Her gaze drops toward my widened legs, and she sucks back a deep, long breath that ends in another soft sigh.
That fucking sigh…
“What about you? Do you ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”
Her lips open wide, her legs shifting while the curling of her toes into the floor doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Do you, Kass?” My voice turns stern, and her heels lift even more as she swallows hard. The sight of her getting turned on nearly makes me come in my damn pants. Imagining how motherfucking hot she is naked and wet makes my cock hard as granite.
She doesn’t answer my question, but nods, her fingers slowly sweeping down the length of her thigh and lingering at her knees before sliding back up.
“Touch yourself for me, beautiful,” I groan. Her eyes widen with a weighty lust before her fingertips press deep into the insides of her thighs, a pretty pink glow rising up her neck that matches her cheeks. My dick so hard I can barely stand it, I take in a long breath smelling sweet … vanilla … female … sex.
“I want you touching me.” Her request comes out more of a plea than a demand, one I have every intention of honoring. Just not quite yet.
“Where, sweetheart? Show me where you want me to touch you.” Her hands still lingering on her thighs, she slowly eases them open just the smallest bit. Every straining part of my body throbs to drop to my knees and replace her hands with mine, but I don’t move. I stay completely still.
“Touch yourself, Kass.”
She gulps back another swallow, opening her thighs enough that I see a small damp spot on the crease of her jeans that has me wanting to reach for my aching dick.
Jesus Almighty Christ! My body tenses. I’m so hard, it’s more misery than pleasure.
Her shaky, delicate fingers lead a small trail over the fabric of her pants as her soft eyes stay glued on mine. I, in turn, reach between my legs and give her a satisfied moan as I stroke myself. She takes a deep breath, and I smile at her.
“My God,” she pleads. “Please … just touch me, Rhett.”
About the Author:
Lacee Hightower is an American writer and romance novelist, referring to her style as contemporary, sweet romance with a “twist.” Living in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, she describes herself as a foodie that can’t cook, a large lover of fashion and SHOES, and an enormous hopeless romantic. Since she was old enough to know what the word meant, she loved the whole concept of romance and happy endings. Even though she has always enjoyed writing, life got in the way and she never really thought of pursuing it seriously until she decided to write her first book after both her children were grown. Now with a nice glass of wine in hand, or not, she is learning to love bringing the characters in her head to life on paper for those who enjoy peeking into another world.
Social Medial Links:
Instagram – laceehightower8786
Ray and Jared were living the perfect life until Ray discovered his ability to shift. Now he dreams of his wolf every night, and lives in fear of the beast.
Remus is the only man who can help Ray control his inner wolf. But if they connect will Jared become the odd man out?
“Wake the fuck up! Come on, Ray, wake up.”
Jared gripped Ray’s upper arms and shook him again. No response. Nobody sleeps that soundly. For Christ’s sake, he looked catatonic, like the woman in The Fall of the House of Usher, who’s pronounced dead and then buried alive. Now Jared was scared. He considered throwing cold water on him, maybe calling for an ambulance. He shook Ray again.
Slowly, Ray opened his right eye. An explosion in Afghanistan took his left eye years ago.
“Jared?” Ray mumbled.
“Yeah, Jared. Were you expecting someone else?”
Ray looked around the room. He seemed confused.
“Snap out of it, man. I couldn’t wake you.”
“I'm awake. I’m awake.” Ray stretched. He looked like he wanted to go back to sleep.”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry. I must have been dreaming.”
“Must have been some dream. There’s a wet spot on the bed.”
Ray checked the sheets. He looked surprised. “Sorry.”
“Forget it, Sexy.” Jared climbed into bed with him. “Tell me all the dirty details. I want to get off too.”
“You know I never remember my dreams.” Ray rolled out of bed. “I better change the sheets.”
Jared made a grab for him. “Later.”
Ray evaded him. “Look at the time, Jared.”
“You used to call me Baby?” Jared spoke more harshly than he intended.
“Fuck the sheets, and the time. We own the company. Let’s go in late. Better yet, let’s take the day off.”
“We can’t afford to close shop, even for one day. Too many P.I.’s in Jersey. The completion is killing us. ”
“We’re the new guys in town. All we need is a big profile case and the clients will be knocking our door down.”
“I hope so.” Ray headed toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.”
“Come back, I’ll give you a tongue bath instead.”
The bathroom door slammed behind Ray. Worried, Jared lay back with his arms under his head. Ray never wanted to fuck anymore. He always had an excuse. I’m too tired. It’s late. I’m drunk. I have a headache.
The sex had been dwindling for months. Six months to be exact. Ever since Remus showed up and screwed up their lives. If he was just another man Jared could handle the competition, but Remus was larger than life, a superhero who’d come from Ray’s past to claim him.
Author Bio and Links
Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.
Some things never change.
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Simon has developed feelings for the girl who bedeviled him growing up, his best friend's sister--not that Alys is a girl any longer. She's a grown-up, beautiful, wonderful woman who makes him crazy. He obtains her brother's permission to ask her out. And is rejected.
Alys is innocent and plans to stay that way until she meets a man who holds the same moral code, regardless of her lengthy crush on Simon. Privy to his escapades and conquests, her jealousy has turned to distaste ans she sets herself on a different path. She wants a man who has refrained from meaningless affairs, who has waited for the special woman. And that's not Simon!
Simon does the research but Google assures him he can't become re-virginized and thus Alys is beyond his reach--until one day when he takes her, as a friend, for lunch in his beloved truck. That day, love changes everything.
https://tinyurl.com/y8geuq6v (Barnes & Noble)
âSorry.â Alysâs response was short but succinct.
Simon waited, but she wasnât forthcoming with any excuses. âYouâre â¦ youâre saying no?â
A quick blink, a sweep of thick, dark lashes before those impossibly golden eyes widened. âI guess I should have said no. But I am sorry.â
It was insane, but he wanted to continue the conversation, even figuring heâd regret it. âWhy are you sorry?â
A faint tinge of pink colored her cheekbones and a couple of little white teeth worried a corner of her full bottom lip. âI get asked out a lot. And I know it canât be easy to get turned down.â
Her reply should have reeked of feminine arrogance, yet it didnât. If anything, it was considered and thoughtful, and despite the twinge of her rejection, he found himself admiring her for it. But wasnât that Alys? Kind. Caring.
A hint of surprise followed, confusing him. It didnât make a lot of sense when he dwelled on itârarely was he turned down and when it happened, it didnât bother him. This was different, and a twofer. Huh.
Telling himself it didnât matter did not stop him from pursuing it like a juvenile trout after a cleverly crafted, manmade fly. âIs there a reason you wonât go out with me?â
Another blink, accompanied by her tucking a strand of silky red-gold hair behind her ear betrayed what he thought was a bit of nervousness, and he thought to back down. Aside from his intense need to have her, Alys brought out some weird emotions in him, ones he might catalog as protectivenessâeven possessivenessâand that wasnât him. Better he let those sleeping dogs lie. He was crazy about her but clearly, the sentiment wasnât returned.
âNever mind. Forget I asked.â Even to his ears he sounded peevish and decided to add petulant to his rapidly increasing scope of emotions. Time to get gone. He was back to fleeing from her.
She said, âI donât date men whoâve â¦ been around.
About the Author:
Peri Elizabeth Scott lives in Manitoba, Canada and pretends to work well with her husband in their seasonal business.
Writing for years, along with her alter ego and three coauthors, she has published over 53 novels, including dark erotica and contemporary romance in a variety of genres, and reads most anything she can lay her hands on.
I'm a crazy zany author who loves to fish and listen to loud music. I love car restorations show as well as baseball, old game shows, and HGTV and DIY networks.