A scorching tale of lust, abuse, and bravery
“Book of the Month” at The TBR Pile
#Dark #Firefighter #Erotic #Suspense
Congratulations to Jewel Quinlan on your new release!
Listening Time: 1 hour 18 minutes
Narrated by: Jack Calihan
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“…Maybe if you’d executed my first two wishes better I wouldn’t be so strung out.” Wrong thing to say. If I could have punched myself, I would have.
Cleo stiffened, eyes wide. And then they narrowed, and I could almost see the millions of ways she was killing me in her mind right now. I braced myself for a barrage of scorn mixed with profanity. If there was one thing I’d learned about Cleo in the past couple of months, it was that she had an extensive vocabulary of swear words. Not only was her range impressive, it was also interestingly exotic. I was well acquainted with it because it’d been directed at me on the frequent occasions I managed to get her to come out of the pill box. I’d thought I’d heard it all at this point in my life, but she proved me wrong. And somehow, whenever she directed her skill at me, I couldn’t help but feel that every term she used was eminently fitting.
“I’m so sorry you’re dissatisfied with your first two wishes, Master,” she drawled in an uncharacteristically chilly tone that made me shiver. “I shall return to my vessel and spend my time reflecting on how to do better with your third wish.” She turned and moved away from the door.
Fuck. The lack of profanity made me panic. I leapt up the stairs in one bound and grabbed her arm in desperation. If she evaporated back into the box, I’d have a hell of a time getting her to come out again. “Cleo, I’m sorry. Don’t go. I’m an asshole, okay? A dick. I’m—I’m every foul word you’ve called me since we met.”
The skin of her arm was soft beneath my fingers, but the biceps was firm. Did she work out? Would a genie even need to, being able to shapeshift and all? There was a small strange golden tattoo on her arm. I watched, fascinated, as it shifted from a crescent moon, to some intricate round design that reminded me of snowflakes, and then into a symbol of some kind. This close, her scent was warm in my nostrils. It was a mix of jasmine, incense, and something spicy that I had yet to identify. The intoxicating medley had visited me in my dreams more than once.
“Take … your hand … off me.”
The words were spoken slowly and in a deadly acid that had me snatching my hand back as though I’d touched a hot exhaust pipe. She glared up at me and twitched her arm as if to dislodge any germs I’d left on her creamy skin.
“Sorry. So sorry,” I said, my words coming out light and breathy as though I might set off a bomb. I took a half step back from her, lifting my hands in front of me in that universal I’m-not-armed gesture. “Please don’t go,” I pleaded. “I really need your help. Please.”
There were less than three days left for me to make my third wish, and I was desperate not to fuck it up. I’d made the first two rather quickly, and they hadn’t turned out exactly as I’d hoped. Well, no, I can’t say that. I’d gotten exactly what I’d wished for. I was now ridiculously wealthy and famous. The problem was that both of those things had come with a lot of problems, like fleeing from people who were trying to kill me for reasons I had yet to determine. And I really didn’t want to spend the rest of my life using my new, magically-granted resources running, hiding, and generally having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my days. Of course, I could always wish to undo the first two wishes. But who in their right mind would do that? I ran a hand through my hair, and pleaded with her with my eyes.
Cleo made a scoffing noise and raked a critical gaze from my black biker boots, over my favorite well-worn jeans and grey t-shirt, and finally to my face, which no doubt looked more haggard than ever from worry and an overgrown five o’clock shadow. “And why should I help you? Out of the goodness of my heart?”
I scrambled to think of something to say, but my mind was blank. I was a mere human. And before she’d come into my life, I was only doing a passable job at being that. There was nothing I could give her that she couldn’t give herself, not even freedom.
“I can’t think of anything,” I said, feeling deflated. “But maybe you can.” It was a shot in the dark, but worth it. There was a faint glimmer in her caramel-colored eyes that signaled I was on the right track. Inspired, I pushed forward, desperate. “Is there something?”
She relaxed her stance, making hope soar within me. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor as if—No. Could it be?—as if she was reluctant to say it. I closed the gap between us again, feeling bolder, but I didn’t touch her. “Tell me,” I urged in a low voice, fascinated. “I want to know. No, I have to know. What I could possibly give you that you would want?”
About the Author:
Jewel Quinlan is a bestselling paranormal and contemporary romance author. Since her debut in late 2013, she has published sixteen stories and has many more to come. Restless by nature, she is an avid traveler and has visited sixteen countries so far. Lover of ice cream, dark beer, and red wine, she tries to stay fit when she’s not typing madly on her computer drafting another romance novel. In her spare time, she likes to do yoga, hike, learn German, and play with her spoiled Chihuahua, Penny.
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Congratulations to Lynn Burke on your new release!
Devil’s Outlaws 4
By Lynn Burke
Publisher: Changeling Press
World-Wide Release Date: August 23, 2019
Reagan “Brewer” de Jager might look soft as a teddy bear, but his stint as a sniper in the SEALs hardened him into a lethal killer. The fact his wife cheated on him while he’d been deployed makes him unable to trust. Cold hearted and empty, he sets his sights on his next mark—and one look into her eyes slays him.
Nova Smego wasn’t nicknamed Black Widow by her CIA superiors without reason. Underestimated for her petite form, she’s quick with her fists and lethal with a blade or a bullet. Tossed out of the CIA with a scarred reputation, she joins a hitmen-for-hire team in the hopes of exacting revenge on the one who ruined her career.
When the Outlaws eliminate her team in order to rescue one of their own, Nova is kept alive—tied to her captor. A winter storm kills the electricity, but not the heat building between her and Brewer. There was a reason he couldn’t end her, and while she plans her escape, she fears losing her heart to the chemistry sizzling between them.
But when Nova’s desire for vengeance shakes the tentative bond between them, the Outlaws issue Brewer an ultimatum. Pull the trigger, or find common ground to trust one another and avoid the Outlaws’ demand for her life.
Changeling Press – 15% sale: https://www.changelingpress.com/brewer-s-mark-devil-s-outlaws-mc-4-b-2912
Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/BREWERSMARK
Books2Read Universal: https://books2read.com/brewersmarkdo4
Brewer stood in the doorway, his gaze flitting over my face as he stepped inside my prison.
My heart spasmed — and that damn tingle between my thighs roared to life. I scowled.
Chin tilted up, I held his blue eyed stare, trying to focus on what he’d done, the family he’d taken from me, rather than the arousal he’d woken inside my core.
A twinkle lit his eye and twitched his lips peeking from his full beard — a beard that appeared silky, bringing to mind an image of his dark head between my thighs. Would his facial hair tickle? Scrape and mark my skin?
I swallowed and jerked my focus back up to his eyes, determined to keep silent no matter what he said — or did.
He caved from the silence between us first, expelling a heavy exhale, his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit. “What’s your name?”
His lips quirked as though to smirk, but flat lined. “Bet you got your ass bullied for that name while growing up.”
“I’d rather fuck you.”
My breath caught — and Brewer blinked as though his words had escaped unintended. He stood a few feet in front of me, doing nothing to hide the cock swelling inside his leathers. Long and hard…
The tingle of arousal morphed into pure wetness, dampening my panties in the span of a single breath as we stared at one another, our fogging breaths loud in the stillness.
“Goddamnit.” Brewer scrubbed a hand down over his face and beard while I attempted to swallow the dryness from my throat. He spun and left without another word, leaving my upper body unwrapped.
My arousal kept me warm for all of two minutes before my teeth began to chatter.
Fucking asshole couldn’t handle the sexual tension, the complication of what that brought to our situation. He fled like a pansy-ass.
Better that than rape me…
“Fuck,” I muttered, eyes clenching shut against the thought of him thrusting into my body. My pussy spasmed, deepening my frown. I hadn’t let a man’s dick near me in over three years — and I wasn’t about to let some Stockholm syndrome make me lenient. No matter how fucking hot said man might be.
He’d killed my team, so given the chance, I would kill him.
© Lynn Burke 2018
Bowie’s Angel, Devil’s Outlaws MC 1: http://mybook.to/BowiesAngel
Gunner’s Flame, Devil’s Outlaws MC 2: http://mybook.to/GUNNERSFLAME
Austin’s Ward, Devil’s Outlaws MC 3: http://mybook.to/AUSTINSWARD
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.