#Threesweetnothings #Nikkisloane #Excerptreveal #Blindfoldclub

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Five years ago, we’d been together and on fire, but the flames burned us both. Now she’s back in my life and is all my wildest fantasies in the flesh.

I want her. The desire is too powerful to argue against, but I’m not interested in what we had. This is an arrangement about pleasure and finding out who we are behind closed doors. There won’t be talk of love or any sweet nothings whispered by either of us.

This time, I’ll control the heat between us and make sure neither of our hearts get too close to the flames.

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EXCERPT:

I grasped Ruby’s hips and dropped a final kiss on her mouth. “Turn around,” I said, using the most seductive voice I had. “Finish what you were doing.”

She rotated slowly in my hold until her back was to me. Then she picked up the sifter with one hand, and turned the crank on the side with her other. Perfect. I skated my fingers along the waistline of her jeans, moving steadily toward the front, putting my arms around her.

Her voice was all-knowing. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I popped the button free at the top of her fly, and nuzzled my way into the crook of her neck. The loose hairs that had slipped out of her ponytail tickled my nose. She shivered when my mouth connected with her soft skin. Did she smell like vanilla because of her baking, or because she was just fucking delicious?

“Oh,” she sighed, and the sifter slowed to a distracted crawl.

I nibbled the curve of her neck while inching down her zipper. My voice was sinful. “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet, and you’re already losing focus.”

The crank resumed its noisy turning, but she tilted her head to the side, granting me more access to feast on her neck. Every little shudder and sigh she gave was so fucking sexy. I wanted to devour her.

When her task appeared to be done, I slid my hand down the front of her undone jeans and eased my fingers inside her panties. Jesus, she was wet already, and my cock hardened. I pressed it against the flat of her ass, letting her feel what she did to me.

“Oh, God,” she jerked when I twitched my fingers. The metal sifter clattered on the counter so she could brace herself with her hands. I sucked hard on her neck, not caring if I gave her a hickey like I was a goddamn teenage boy.

I wasn’t above marking her as mine. That was what she’d be after tonight. I was already hooked on her, so it only seemed fair.

Her hands gripped the counter’s edge so furiously, they went white as I traced my fingers over her damp clit. Her head tilted and lolled backward until it was heavy on my shoulder. Ruby’s eyes were closed and her mouth open so she could suck in labored breaths.

“What’s next?” I asked. “You need to add the flour to the eggs?”

She nodded, not even opening her eyes, although she made a face. Like my question was annoying and had disturbed her contentment.

“Then get to it.” I withdrew my hand and gripped the sides of her jeans and panties. I jerked them down her long legs, revealing her beautiful, creamy skin.

We were right beside the mixer and it meant she didn’t have to walk anywhere, which was good. Her jeans and underwear were wadded around her ankles. She looked amazing like this. The long sweater stopped just where her cheeks did, and it teased me with flashes of the bottom of her ass whenever she moved.

I grabbed the oven mitts I’d thrown off, put them on the floor behind her, and knelt on them, giving me a much better view of her perfect ass.

There was noise from the counter above. She’d pulled a clean rubber spatula from the dish rack and, in her haste, she’d nearly dumped the whole thing over. I fanned my hands around the globes of her bottom and squeezed, causing her to jolt once again.

She was so cute. Flustered and sexy, but she was standing up straight. “Bend over a little. I need to see that pussy, sweetheart.”

Whoa.

A rush of memories came flooding back. When we’d been together, I’d called her sweetheart occasionally. It slipped out now before I could stop it. A habit that wouldn’t die, or something more? She followed my command, leaning over, and it caused the sweater to lift and expose more of her nakedness.

She was all pink, and lush, and mine.

“Oh, fuck.” She gasped the words as I bent forward and buried my face in the seam of her legs. “Kyle. I can’t do anything when you’re doing that.”

“You can, and you will. Finish,” I gave her a playful bite on a cheek, “or you don’t get to.”

She groaned, both in satisfaction and frustration as I resumed teasing her with my tongue. She tasted so good. Sweet. Perfect. A taste I couldn’t get enough of.

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#WrappedInLaceSale #TooGoodTooPassUp #PrescottLane #Only99c

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When I was a little boy, the best thing about the holiday season was unwrapping presents on Christmas morning — tearing off the paper and tossing it on the floor. Now that I’m a man, I like to unwrap slowly, deliberately, taking my time to savor what lies before me. I still like to throw the wrapping on the floor, but now I know the best gifts come wrapped in lace.

And unlike when I was a kid, I won’t get sick of this present by New Year’s. I’ll definitely be playing with this girl day after day after day.

After six years avoiding my hometown, the last thing I expected when I returned was a wannabe bad girl to unwrap my heart and rip open my soul. But that’s exactly what happened. Now if I can just get the hell out of my own way, maybe I’ll finally get the best gift of all — her!

Come get unwrapped by Drew this holiday.

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#NewReleaase #HoHoHo #ChristmasQuicky #CurvyChristmas #JingleYourBells #Review

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“Brace yourself, baby.  Every day is going to be Christmas now that I’ve stolen you” 

Yes this quote sums this fantastic short story from the dynamic duo. This book is fun and sweet. Sexy as always add in some Christmas spirit and you have lights camera action. 

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#FavoriteSeries #Novella #AuthorsWeLove #NewRelease #SteamyHotLoving #LMFAO

Ummmmmm…… Where do I start? I’m so incredibly sad we have to say Goodbye to the Series of the Year…. This series took us by storm. Wowed us and entertained us thoroughly. Max Monroe bloody hell really knocked us on our arses. The Billionaire Series was gifted to me by a Sister from another Mister, boy when I started this book I was overjoyed. As time went on I wanted to Kiss Sue Dayoub for knowing me so well because if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have met these Fucking Fantastic Characters.

Max Monroe went over and beyond in every book and Novella. They never once allowed us to be bored or roll our eyes at stupid one liners. Never once did I say fuckity that joke didn’t make any sense. Every single Joke or silly thing said and done was timed out Brilliantly. This alone should show you their Author’s Sheer Brilliance.

Now this book is saying goodbye. But Fuck me Side Ways. What a way to say Goodbye. Best goodbye ever. This Novella Packed a Punch.
1. Hot Alpha Men
2. Sassy Strong Heroine’s
3. Hot and Fucking Sexy…. fan urself HOTTTTT
4. Awesome Dialogue, Great Banter all round and Plenty LMFAO scenes.

All three couples got the most beautiful HEA a girl could ask for. Their bonds of love and friendship is Awe Inspiring. Their understanding and givingness to a sisterhood was empowering to watch. These ladies knew the kind of men they had and they loved their Guys for who they were and not what they had Financially.

These Men knew as well what they have in the palm of their hands. They treated them with the utmost care and love. Wes My Man being my favorite because of the way he loved and treasured Lexi. I had tears in my eyes whenever I read about him and Lexi. Watching them becoming a family was undoubtedly a highlight. This for me was utterly Magical and sometimes Stole my breath away.

Grab this book ladies you will not be sorry. Its the perfect ending. And yes its sad cos we don’t get them anymore but Hey that’s why we can Damn Reread whenever we miss them. That alone should sweeten this Goodbye. Ladies you will be Smiling Ear to Ear seeing them all get their each Fairytale HEA….

Enjoy Ladies and remember its never Goodbye its always till I see you again😉😉😉

#CurrentlyReading #NewRelease A Veil of Vines #TillieCole

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To most people, princes, princesses, counts and dukes are found only in the pages of the most famous of fairytales. Crowns, priceless jewels and gilded thrones belong only in childhood dreams.
But for some, these frivolous fancies are truth.
For some, they are real life.
On Manhattan’s Upper East Side, people have always treated me as someone special. All because of my ancestral name and legacy. All because of a connection I share to our home country’s most important family of all.
I am Caresa Acardi, the Duchessa di Parma. A blue blood of Italy. I was born to marry well. And now the marriage date is set.
I am to marry into House Savona. The family that would have been the royals had Italy not abolished the monarchy in 1946. But to the aristocrats of my home, the abolition means nothing at all.
The Savonas still hold power where it counts most.
In our tight-knit world of money, status and masked balls, they are everything and more.
And I am soon to become one of them.
I am soon to become Prince Zeno Savona’s wife…
… or at least I was, until I met Achille.
And everything changed.

 

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I opened the window beside me and stared at the illuminated entrance. I swallowed hard and placed my empty glass on the bar. Metal groaned, breaking through the twilight, as the massive black wrought-iron gates began to open. The limo slowly pulled onto the property’s lane, and I drank in the thick forest that shielded the estate. I inhaled the freshness of the lush green trees. The unpolluted sky was thick with stars—not a single cloud in sight.
A few minutes later, the thick woods cleared, and I gasped. Acres and acres of gold and green vineyards covered the landscape. The scents of plump grapes and damp soil permeated the warm air. I closed my eyes. It reminded me of being a child. It brought me back to the days before I was taken to New York. I could still feel the heat of the Emilia-Romagna sun on my face, the deep smell of olives, grapes and flowers drifting in the breeze as I ran around our Parma estate.
I smiled a nostalgic smile and allowed my eyes to drift open again. I rested my arms on the window and leaned my chin on them as the limo drove on. There were several small villas peppered over the landscape, their lights twinkling in the distance. They must have been the winemakers’ residences. It was not only the Bella Collina merlot that was made on this land; other reds were too—particularly the Chianti from the region’s finest Sangiovese grapes. The Bella Collina olive oil was also up there with the best. But nothing compared to the famed merlot.
The limo turned right, and my breath caught in my throat. I lifted my head and stared disbelievingly at the property ahead. Bella Collina was a veritable Palace of Versailles tucked away in the Umbrian wilderness.
“Mio Dio,” I whispered as I took in the imposing stone structure, the sweeping steps and the vast number of windows set in the building’s walls. Large pillars of red-veined marble flanked the entrance. Cypress trees framed the estate as if it were the shining star of a fine Renaissance painting. Sculptures of famed Savona monarchs of old stood proudly on the manicured lawns, and strategically placed lighting illuminated the sheer perfection of every piece of topiary.
As a child, I had been to the Palazzo Savona in Florence. It was widely regarded to be one of the finest estates in all of Italy, if not western Europe. But this . . . this . . . there were no words. It was perfectly placed, as if it had always been there. As if it had grown naturally from the Umbrian earth just as sure as the vines and woods that kept this architectural treasure hidden from view.

 

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

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#FionaDavenport #AuthorsWeLove #CandySweet #Novella #HEA #HotOttAlpha

As Always Fiona Davenport has once again given us a Sugary Sweet Treat. Then again their Novella’s are always I little piece of heaven.

I say this always but can’t help it really, these ladies give is different stories every Single time. If that doesn’t show you or tell you how brilliant their minds are then nothing will.

Ok now this Hot but Heart warming beautiful book is about Feisty Zoe. Zoe works Landon, Landon was instantly in love with our girl but for obvious reasons she refused to date her boss. So she stayed far away until faith intervened, that left Zoe with no options but follow him cos he was the only one that could help her. Now she has been just as attracted to him so when they are thrown together she doesn’t stand a chance of him having his way.

Landon is Alpha and Hot. He loves his Girl and his Family a lot. Yet at the same time wouldn’t think twice about laying his head on a platter if it made Zoe happy. Even though Zoe was No Push Over she still knew who was Boss.

Loved this book. Its perfect to feed the reading obsession she you don’t have much time. Trust me you won’t be sorry.
Enjoy!!!!!received_564117330447884

#NewRelease Hail Mary by @Nicola Rendell #SportsRomance #HolyHotness

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⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Hail Mary is a sexy sweet sports romance. Cute banter and an even cuter dog help balance the super hot sex and sexual chemistry going on.
Mary and Jimmy meet under very unusual circumstances and with a one-two punch Jimmy is knocked out and under Mary’s spell.

“The owner of the club, Manny, steps over the ropes and drops a few packets of smelling salts onto Gillette’s chest. They look like the little salt packets you can get at Wendy’s.
“Mary,” Manny says. “We’ve talked about this. You gotta stop knocking out the paying customers. I’m trying to run a business here. You feel me?”

The story has some great twists and there was fun and entertainment on every page. This was my first book by Nicola Rendell and I will definitely look forward to reading more by her!

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SYNOPSIS
At a boxing gym in Chicago, Mary Monahan accidentally knocks out the most handsome man she’s ever met. After she wakes him up with a few slaps and some smelling salts, the very first thing he does is ask her out for ribs and beer. His name is Jimmy. He looks like a Gillette model. And he’s just too hunky to resist.

Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi is mystified that Mary has absolutely no idea who he is. Mystified and refreshed. He is, after all, not your everyday NFL quarterback. He shops at Costco, has a soft spot for Pinterest, and is in the midst of an epic losing streak.

Jimmy falls for Mary fast and hard, the way he does everything—balls out and like it’s fourth and long. And he realizes he’s finally met his match. That stamina he’s so proud of? Doesn’t stand a chance against her Kegels.

But what they don’t know is she’s also his new physical therapist, recently hired by the Bears to work on his rotator cuff…and groin injury. If she can’t help him, he’ll be traded faster than they can say “offensive penetration.”

In spite of the thousands of internet memes featuring Jimmy’s face with captions like: “HEY GIRL, WANT TO TOUCH MY BALLS?” Mary finds herself falling for him and his unrelenting desire to make her his.

Until a toddler shows up at Jimmy’s door.

And throws their lives into total chaos.

***

To the reader: Contents includes love, sweetness, naughtiness, honey, champagne, and an HEA. Safe.

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EXCERPT

Chapter 1
Jimmy
She’s got a hell of a left hook, and her jab is no joke either. It’s hard to tell what she really looks like, with the big blue rubber mouth guard between her teeth and the black padded headgear covering her jaw and cheeks. But I know this: I want to get my hands on that body. Her tight pink tee is low cut and skin tight, and across her breasts are the words: “NOBODY’S PUSSYCAT.”
A cold draft blows in from the window, making goosebumps ripple up her arms. A thin stream of sweat runs down into her cleavage, and then I watch her nipples tighten. Christ. With little bounces, she heads back to her corner and bends over for her water bottle. Stretchy black leggings and no panty line.
Fuuuuuck.
The buzzer dings and we square up. She holds her gloves up to her face, ready to go. They’re bubblegum pink with white cuffs; the girliest weapons I’ve ever seen.
But never mind the gloves. It’s those eyes that have me. Shit, those eyes. This crazy deep green. Packers’ green. Jets’ green. Green like cash. Green that could make a guy go right out of his mind.
Pow goes a jab into my stomach and I double over, tasting my Gatorade from an hour ago. Before I can breathe, before I can even get up my gloves to slow her down, she pelts me hard with a cross to my sternum that knocks the wind straight out of me. I gasp for air and stagger back into the ropes.
“Jesus Christ,” I moan. “Who are you?”
Her eyes light up in this smile. This beautiful fucking smile that I feel way down inside. Then she bounces on her toes and smacks her gloves together out in front of her. Whap, whap. “I’m Mary!” she says around her mouth guard. “And you’re slow!”
Cute. But, yeah…no. Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody. I hurl myself off the ropes, colliding with her in the center of the ring, skin against skin now. I press into her sexy shoulder with my bicep, feeling the sweat between us. She nails me in the gut again; a solid, low-slung straight, and I think, I can’ t hit a girl, can I?
No. Fuck, no.
So I stretch my arm between us, the padding of my glove holding her steady right below her collarbone. She swings for me but I’m a foot taller and she doesn’t stand a chance. “Jerk!”
Obviously.
But on the upside, now I can really get a good look at her the way I want to; close up, but not so close that she’s pummeling me. Her legs are solid and I can even see that little curve of her hipbones barely showing through her leggings. I let my eyes follow the line of sweat to her inner thighs, to that wet, hot place where everything comes together. Fuck. I want my hands on that place. I want to feel the softness and the strength. I want to know the taste of that sweat. The way that softness gives under my tongue.
Ding goes the buzzer. I push her away, padded knuckles to her shoulder. She spins and gets into her corner, so I do the same.
I grab my water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, watching her all the time. She’s fucking beautiful, this one. Fucking gorgeous. The woman of dreams. Of fantasies.
From a pink Nalgene, she takes one big gulp, two, and a little water dribbles down her lips, rolling in drops down her throat. Her eyes stay right on mine. Her chest heaves. Her eyes flash. Her lips tighten. And that’s when it happens. She peels off her T-shirt and tosses it to the floor so that the only word showing is PUSSY.
Ding.
Her body is fucking perfect. I mean perfect. I moan into my mouth guard and I look her up and down. Lean but not thin. Sexy and strong. A fighter’s body. A woman’s body. A body strong enough to take everything I want to give it. And then some.
She turns to set down her water bottle, bending at the waist. And that’s when I see it. The tattoo. It’s a ribbon of black lace that runs in a beautiful, feminine line down her back from right shoulder to left hip, curving down into her pants. Tough as hell, pretty as can be. And with the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen in my life.
Stick a motherfucking fork in me. I’m done.
“Nice ink,” I tell her as we square up again.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning in to my shoulder.
“I’ve never seen one like it.” I hook my arm around her again and pull her in. I smell something familiar. I can’t place it. She slips free and moves behind me. For one second, all I can hear is her shoes on the mats.
“I rebelled when I turned 30. It was either this or a tramp stamp.”
“Of what?” I pivot so my face is close against hers.
“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” She smiles tight around the mouth guard. Her glove comes through the air, cutting through the noise of the gym. Whooosh.
I get my right hand up just in time to block her with my glove. The impact rolls down my forearm like I’m nothing but Jell-O.
She lets another jab fly but misses me—barely—and I slip around behind her. The hair at the nape of her neck is curly and wet, and a long dark braid runs down her back. That strip of wet fabric at the top of her pants, dark with sweat. “Why are we fighting?” I growl as I get closer. “Why aren’t we out drinking? Making trouble? Fucking around? Let me take you out.”
She spins to face me, her eyes wide open, surprised. “You wanna drink with me?”
“Hell yes, I do. And a lot of other things.”
“You want me? Fight me.” She fires her bubblegum pink cannons at my stomach with a one-two combination that makes me feel like I’m nothing but a 283-pound heavy bag.
I try to get in a left cross, but she’s way faster than I am and comes up from under with a hook straight out of Manila.
That one got me in my brainpan, in my marrow. “Fuck that,” I snarl.
“Atta boy!”
No way. Nobody atta boys me. I’m Jimmy Goddamned Falconi. I’m nobody’s boy. Never.
“Atta girl.” I nudge her in the shoulder with my chest.
Around her guard, she says, “You fight like you’re in molasses. But you’re strong. You some kind of athlete?”
At first, I’m about to laugh. For about one second, I think I might be on Candid Camera or something. I mean, I can’t walk to the bathroom on an airplane without someone asking me to sign a cocktail napkin. I can’t get through Costco without someone asking me to sign their shopping list. Some kind of athlete?
I’m Jimmy “The Falcon” Falconi. Quarterback for the Chicago Goddamned Bears. I’m somebody.
But there’s zero recognition in her eyes. No flicker of the fangirl. No sign she’s playing it cool either. To her, I’m just a guy getting his ass kicked by a girl in pink gloves.
“Hello?” She presses into my chin with a slow uppercut from the right.
I snap out of it. I don’t even know how to answer her. I play quarterback for the Bears. Ever heard of them? Or maybe, Ever heard of football? America’s Game? Fuck. I wouldn’t even know how to start. I’ve never had to explain it. People just know. “Yeah, I like to work out.”
“Then act like it,” she says, all piss and vinegar, and puts her guard back in her mouth. Wham comes that jab into my gut. Pow goes the straight to my pecs. I loop one arm around her and pull her body in close, hooking the back of her neck with the crook of my elbow. I pull her closer, tighter, both arms around her, to get a feel for her…but also to give myself a goddamned break.
She struggles a little, trying to squirm free, but I see the smile on her face, the crinkle of the skin at her eyes.
I pull her head closer to mine. I must be twice her weight; no way is she going to get free now. We are the welterweight and the super heavyweight. Wrong class totally. But then she wedges her forehead in against my chest. I watch her wind up, her biceps flexing, and, boom-boom-boom.
Every time she connects, I lose a little more air and groan, “Fuck-fuck-fuck!”
“Atta boy!”
Fuck. That.
So I keep her pinned and she starts fighting harder, which makes me want to hang on to her more. I press my nose against her head. In her thick brown hair, I can smell her shampoo, her conditioner. Coconut.
While I’m distracted by that smell, thinking of sunscreen and ukulele music and drinks with umbrellas and her on a beach, she slips out from under my arms and pops up in my face.
Well, shit.
“What, you chicken? Gonna hit me back? Or do you want to dance around for an hour or two? Because I can totally do that. I just have to go home to feed the dog.” Whap-whap go her padded fists.
Oh no, no way. No way am I going to let a pretty little thing talk to me like that. I sniff hard and man up.
I give her a jab. A hook. A cross.
And she blocks me every damned time. Blocks me like she’s fought me before, or like she’s known all along what I’ll do when it comes down to it.
Fucking wax-on-wax off, one-two-three.
Pow-pow go her gloves into my side, and fuck. I think I feel those it in my spleen. Enough. Enough. Anger boils up through me like cheap vodka after a long night.
I’m Jimmy Falconi. And I’m gonna make this girl know my name.
I crack my neck side to side and get serious. I suck air through the holes in my mouth guard and get my fists up. I edge her into the corner and those eyes flash at me. She’s sweating hard and her mascara is smudged. Her hair is mussed and her skin is slick. It makes her look dangerous. Angry. I’d like to smudge that mascara a little more. In bed. Immediately.
But first, I’m going to show her who’s boss.
The more she works herself up, the hotter she gets. That’s when something catches my eye. There’s something written on the white cuffs of her gloves. All fuzzy, written in black marker:
On the right glove: HERE COMES…
On the left:…TROUBLE!
Whomp.
She nails me in the jaw with a haymaker, and my molars shake. “Come the fuck on,” I growl back at her, with my glove pressed to the side of my face.
She smacks her gloves together, and lowers her chin. “Are we sparring or chatting? Hit me!” Bounce, bounce, bounce. Butterfly, bee. Whap, whap, whap. “I’m not going to break!”
I work my jaw open and closed a few times thinking, Okay. Fine. Fine. I didn’t think it was going to go like this, but I can roll with a hostile defense, sure. Wouldn’t be the first time. I give her the old elevator stare—up, down, up again—and get stuck on her belly button for a little too long. But then I get a game plan together. I figure I can hit her in the stomach. Not too hard, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know who’s in charge here.
Which would be me. Me, pussycat. Me.
Nudging the edge of her shoulder with my glove, I drive her backwards. Our eyes lock and I get this…this…prickle all through me.
This woman.
This one. Right here.
I want her. So fucking bad.
The fucking gym with its ten phones playing mariachi goes silent. The guys by the cooler egging her on go silent. It’s just her and me and the sweat dripping between us. Soft skin, sparkling eyes. She smells like a summer day and she’s looking at me in a way that no woman has ever looked at me. Ever.
Like she’s gonna own me and she knows it.
Which is bullshit.
She gives me a little lift of her chin and tightens her lips around the guard. She wipes her nose with her glove and then lowers her head. “Come on! You going to fight or are you just going to screw around?”
With my left hand, I jab her softly in the stomach. With the right, a play-hook to the jaw. I raise her chin on my glove so her eyes come up to mine. Then I pull her close, my arm around the back of her neck again. “You wanna screw around?” I say into her ear.
Bam, another hit to the stomach. “I haven’t even gotten started,” she answers.
Fuck it.
She wants to play? Fucking fine. I’ll play. I’ll play hard. I square up. But she gives me this eye. This champion eye. A winner’s eye. Cocky like no eyes I’ve ever seen before. Tom Brady doesn’t have anything on this kind of cocky right here. My luck, this girl’s some UFC champion. Christ.
But I can take her. Yeah, I sure fucking can.
Probably.
I decide on a straight jab; a no-fail straight jab that I plan just hard enough to send her reeling but not hurt her, not actually injure her. I know the punch. It works in bar fights and brawls on the field. An all-American move. As I wind up, everything slows down. I’m 6’6”, 283 pounds, and I throw a football for a living. When I wind up, I wind up. As I do, she ducks, fast as fucking lightning. Greased. Elegant. Lethal. So as my arm is powering through the air, as my momentum gets caught behind 12-ounce training gloves, she pops back up like a goddamned whack-a-mole.
Those eyes flash again and she smiles so hard I can see her dimples.
Dimples. Oh, fuck.
I watch her shoulder tighten, her tricep pucker, and that’s when she lets me have it for real.
The punch comes from left to right, blocking out my view of everything. I don’t see the Mexican flag on the wall. I don’t see the graffiti mural over the windows. Nope. The universe turns bubblegum pink.
It doesn’t hurt, not at first, and as I’m flying backwards, airborne, I have just enough time to think to myself, I wonder if this is what a knockout punch feels like…
Before everything flickers to black.

#NewRelease #GhostRiders #AlexaRiley #ReadyToRide #Hot

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Welcome to the Ghost Riders Motorcycle Club…where you’ll find happily ever afters, no cheating, and sugary-sweet alphas that love to get on their knees.
This gritty series is one of our favorites and includes some of the best Alexa Riley characters ever!

This bundle includes Pulling her Trigger, Beauty and the Biker, Letting Her Lead, Pulling His Trigger, and Riding Him.

If you’ve never read it, now’s the time. Grab the complete series by the handles and saddle up. It’s safe, dirty, and ready to ride…just like your mom. Sorry, we’re immature.

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