When the fairy tale life you believed in falls apart, there is nothing else left…
Or so I thought, until Trouble, wrapped in one hunky body and a sinful smile promising untold pleasure of the carnal kind, lands on my doorstep. Despite what my body demands or the fact that I’m irresistibly drawn to him, I’d been burned too deeply to dare try again. Besides, Max Meade-Sinclair is my younger sister’s best friend—and totally off-limits.
Ila Logan’s coolly dismissive manner captures and challenges me from the moment our paths cross. What I want, I usually get. A little thing like age isn’t going to stop me. Neither are the men who disappear into her secluded room. However, she proves a difficult opponent who leaves me falling for her a little more at each encounter.
This tempestuous woman is mine, but to win her, I must dig deeper, and show her that beneath my brawling, player facade exists a man who would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy.
But surviving my own dark past may just destroy the fragile bond growing between us…
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Except from the opening chapter
Bile crept up my throat as pain churned in my head. Yet it didn’t stop me from chugging back more of my beer, searching for oblivion. Unfortunately, it wasn’t at the bottom of the bottle. The din of the place grew, competing with the pounding in my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Lights off!” someone shouted.
Christ. I winced, the yell reverberating in my head as total darkness enclosed me in its stifling hold. Slouching lower in the armchair, I opened my eyes and squinted at the tiny, flickering flames casting an eerie glow over several grinning faces.
Damn idiots! Just how many candles had they stuck on the cake? Because it sure looked like it could light up a small town.
“Happy twenty-first, Max!”
My head protested the loud chorus viciously. Twenty-one, and I felt a hundred. As if I’d lived a lifetime.
“Blow ‘em out. Make a wish.” Jack, the bastard—and my best friend since the crib—gave me a crooked grin. Near him, War, our other buddy, lifted his beer in cheers, then guzzled the thing down.
Jack just had to use my birthday as a reason to party and celebrate my return to civilization after my hiatus in the “wilds” as he called Peru.
Feeling as if my body weighed a ton, I pushed to my feet and crossed to the table in the dining room of the house I shared with Jack, each step jarring my throbbing head. I blew the candles once, twice…three friggin’ times before the flames hissed out.
The noise in the room ratcheted up with whoops and cheers. Slaps resounded, pelting my back, accompanied by well wishes as I headed to where I’d dropped my tote near the front door when I’d walked in a few hours earlier. I needed the relief it held. A blonde lunged at me, and I hit the wall like a bumbling drunk.
“Happy birthday, Max.” She hiccupped, her hands wandering over my chest. Her mouth slid over mine. She tasted of liquor and pizza.
My stomach revolted violently. The beer I’d swallowed backtracked up my throat. “Get off me—”
She flashed me a drunken grin. I shoved away before I hurled on her and lurched in the opposite direction toward the bathroom. I slammed inside, just in time to embrace the porcelain god for several long minutes.
Feeling as if I’d puked my guts, along with the contents of my stomach, I collapsed against the wall, mouth vile and my brain looking for ways to escape the pressure in my skull. I rubbed my temples and prayed for nothingness.
Christ, I hated these fucking headaches.
“Damn, Max, I didn’t realize you were so shit-faced.” Jack’s voice came from a distance. I ignored him, didn’t care what he thought or bother to correct him, really wishing I were drunk.
“Come on, man, let’s get you out of here.” He grabbed me. I was no lightweight. At six foot three, I stood an inch taller than him, but he hauled me up with little effort.
I pushed him away and shuffled for the basin, rinsed my mouth, and caught a glimpse of my reflection. Red-rimmed eyes, waxy-looking skin, and a bisected left eyebrow, the scar giving me a sinister air. For the rest of my life, the latter would serve as a reminder of the horror I was responsible for, the blood on my hands.
Author: Georgia Lyn Hunter
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Players to Men
Title: Breathless #1
About the Author:
I’ve been creating stories from the moment I could string two words together. No matter the tale, it always has romance woven through them. Yes, I'm a hopeless romantic.
When I’m not writing or plotting new books, I like to read, travel, painting, or troll flea markets where I usually buy things I might never actually use because they're so pretty.
After working in a few jobs all art related, a chosen career as a fashion designer, then an art teacher, I finally found my passion four years ago: writing. There really is no other job I’d rather do.
Oh, and I hail from the beautiful country of South Africa, and currently live in the Middle East.
Author’s follow links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Instagram
From my home to yours, I wish you a blessed holiday filled with love and happiness. This time of year is a challenge for many (myself included) and it's even more important to share the things we love and say thank you for the people we care about.
Penny’s secrets can ruin a presidential contender, got her family murdered…and mark her as the next hit.
For thirteen years, Penny Sparks has managed to hide from the political powers who murdered her family. When she unwittingly exposes her true identity, not only is she marked for death, but the people closest to her risk meeting the same fate.
Jake Winters is out of rehab and coming to grips with his demons. When he meets his sister’s roommate, Jake believes Penny might be that someone who can help him find life after rock star status…until her secrets blow up his world.
With a government agent turned hit man closing in on her, Penny and Jake race to expose the presidential contender behind the murders of her family. Even if they win the race with death, the murder that stands between them could end their hope for a new life.
Jake sank onto the bed, his mind reeling with her assumptions. “So, you think the senator—hired—an FBI agent to make the accounting woman disappear and to kill your family?”
“Yeah, I do.” Penny rose and paced in front of him. “And how do I know he’s involved? Westingly wasn’t a senator back then. But he must’ve had aspirations. He sold off the nuclear waste division and bowed out of the company to go into politics. And you know what else?” She stopped, her eyes wide, fists at her sides.
He swallowed deeply. “What?”
“Those two other people, Burke and Severing? The two that Angie thought were doing the embezzling? They both died within a couple of years of when Westingly resigned from the company and went into politics.”
“Burke drowned while out on his yacht, and Severing died when a car hit her while biking after dark. Hit and run. Accidents. Hmph. That means anyone who knew what Westingly did is gone.” Her chest expanded with a deep breath. “Except for me.”
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Musings from Michigan