A little taste before you commit.
Sometimes you need more than a blurb.
Sometimes you just want to know if the words hit.
So go ahead. Read a little, feel something, get curious.
I won’t judge if you need the whole book afterwards.
Always, Again
An exclusive excerpt from Always, Again
“Julian…”
The rest never makes it out. He moves first.
One step, and he is there. His hands close around my waist before I fully register the motion, and then I am on the edge of the desk, papers shifting beneath me with a soft drag of sound as he steps between my knees.
My breath catches.
“Careful,” I say, though my hands have already found the front of his shirt.
His mouth is close enough now that I feel the shape of his answer before I hear it.
“That’s ironic.”
Cold air and cedar cling faintly to his collar. Underneath it, something warmer. Him.
“You started this,” I murmur.
His eyes move over my face, slow enough to feel like touch. “I know.”
Then his mouth is on mine. The kiss lands nothing like the one in the lane. That one had surprise in it. This one arrives with decision.
My fingers slide into his hair before I can think better of it, pulling him closer just as his hand spreads over my back. The desk presses against the backs of my thighs, the only steady thing in the room while everything else tilts. His mouth opens mine, and the sound that breaks from me disappears into him. He kisses like a man who has denied himself too long and resents the need for denial in the first place.
Heat gathers fast. His hand slides higher between my shoulder blades, then back down again, slow enough that I feel every inch of it. When he pulls me closer, the hard length of him presses between my thighs, and the contact sends a sharp pulse through me so immediate my hips answer before my mind does.
The sound he makes is low, rough, dragged out of him. I feel it everywhere.
The control he wears so well is still there, but up close it feels less like calm and more like strain. I can feel it in the way his body holds itself. In the way his breath catches and then steadies by force. In the way his hand tightens once at my waist before easing again.
My hands move to his belt. The buckle is warm under my fingers. I slip beneath it just enough to make his breath break against my mouth.
“Sera.” My name leaves him like a warning he no longer trusts.
I brush my lips against his again. “You came back.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t stop now.”
Before Silence Breaks
Meet Jaxx before things get messy.
An exclusive excerpt from Before Silence Breaks
Some men ask before they take. Jaxx makes her ask him not to stop.
“I’m not asking for safe.” She draws me close until her lips touch mine when she speaks. “I’m asking you to pay attention.”
“And if I do?”
“Then stop holding back.”
That’s all the permission I need. Soft requires patience, and love has no place in this room. I need a quick fix strong enough to wipe out the last week.
My hands dig into her hips, keeping her against the door. One slides up and closes around her throat. I start with enough pressure to make the threat clear.
Roxy bites my lip.
I squeeze harder.
Her eyes widen. Instead of pulling away, she circles my wrist and presses it closer.
“Is that how you want to play, Red?”
“You told me not to break,” she gets out.
“I said you wouldn’t.”
“Prove it.”
I hold her until the challenge begins to shake, then release her throat and crush my mouth onto hers before she gets a full breath.
“Hands up, doll.”
Want to read the rest? Click here.
Between the Lines
A poem for the ones who feel too much.
Devour
There’s something about the way you speak.
Like you already know how I’ll break.
And worse,
that you’ll make it beautiful.
I should run.
There’s still time.
But I stay.
Starving.
What’s coming
isn’t love.
It’s ruin,
dressed in the mouth of a man
who wants nothing more
than to taste the parts of me
no one’s been allowed to touch.
And I want it.
God, I want it.
The Ultimate Ride
Something a little darker.
Come Closer
The space between us isn’t empty.
It’s thick, weighted, humming.
Like the night itself is holding its breath,
waiting for me to give in.
He hasn’t moved.
Hasn’t spoken.
But I feel him.
His presence sinking into my skin,
curling around my ribs like smoke.
A slow shift.
The scrape of his boot against the pavement.
Fingers flexing once,
barely a movement,
as it wrecks my pulse.
My feet stay planted.
Not because I’m strong,
because I already know.
If I take one step closer,
he won’t let me leave.
And worse,
I won’t want to.
Under the Lights of New York
A little Christmas in New York.
From my desk
Something new is coming…