Friday, July 29, 2016

Getting K(ink)y with an exclusive excerpt!

Have you picked up your copy of the hottest box set of the summer? Time is running out to grab Curved Lines for the super dooper discounted release price of 99 cents. Don't miss out on this great deal!

10 Hot Tattooed Alpha Men and the Curvy Women They Love. Let these bad boys sweep you off your feet in this bestselling boxed set! From billionaires to shifters, there’s a book boyfriend for everyone.

Google Play:
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Amazon UK
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Amazon AU

My contribution to the set is K(ink)y Curves. For those of you who've read my Kinky Chronicles series you'll see some familiar faces and meet some new ones. I hope you fall in love with these characters as much as I have. Here's an exclusive look!

K(ink)y Curves

Charlie Cross is the reigning queen of dirty talk. As a phone sex operator, she’s fielded every kink and fetish in the book. Nothing fazes her. Okay, not entirely true. There’s one client who’s gotten under her skin. Grady. He’s dangerously close to peeling back the layers she’s worked so hard to keep hidden. And the last thing she needs is for him to discover the truth—how completely imperfect she is.

Grady The Grinder Montana. With a name like that he must be a stripper, right? Guilty as charged. He’s damn good at it too. Forget moves like Jagger, his make the Benjamins rain. Women scream his name every night. On stage or in bed, the result’s the same. Not one damn bit of it matters, though. The only real thing in his life is Charlie. With her he’s only Grady. The Grinder doesn’t exist. Their relationship is uncomplicated, liberating, and...perfect.

Until the day their worlds crash together. No illusions. No safety nets. Just two damaged, dirty, perfectly imperfect people about to fall hard. Love isn’t always pretty. Sometimes it’s messy and real. And exactly what you need.

Slipknot’s latest CD soundtracked his drive home. Thank God for heavy metal. Better than caffeine at keeping him awake behind the wheel. He pulled into his single reserved space across from his apartment unit and killed the engine. Only other signs of life were the swarms of fishflies invading the nearby light pole. Those damn insects were way more energetic than he was at the moment.
Not that long ago, dragging his ass home at one in the morning had been a lifestyle choice. Back then, he’d walk into walls after imbibing a few too many adult beverages. Damn miracle if he made it to his bed before passing out. The only cause for him staggering through the door these days? Exhaustion. Pure and simple.
He tossed his keys in the general direction of the console and kicked off his sneakers. Smothering a yawn with his fist, he trekked to his hidey-hole of a bedroom cubbied in the corner of his equally tiny studio. Yeah, the place was barely bigger than a closet, but it didn’t come with a belligerent old man who enjoyed cracking him one with a beer bottle. He flopped on top of the mattress without bothering to remove his jersey track pants. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
At twenty-six and some change, he was far from being the youngest dancer at the club. Not that he was ready for the stripper retirement home yet, but night’s like this his joints gleefully reminded him who was boss. He crooked an arm over his eyes and exhaled wearily.
He must have dozed off because his snore woke him a second later. Groaning, he dropped his hand and glanced toward the alarm clock. Two a.m. Shit. He’d fallen asleep and missed his call to Charlie.
An odd emptiness settled in the pit of his stomach. He never missed a night. Stalling in mid thought, he replayed that realization. Holy hell, that made him sound like a major pervert. Daily phone sex for the past year. No wonder he was always broke.
But it wasn’t only about the sex. There were plenty of times they didn’t even get each other off. They’d talk about movies and weird but extremely important stuff, like whether or not Scrappy Doo is one of the most annoying cartoon characters of all time. Spoiler alert—he is. In the last several months their conversations had become increasingly more intimate and deep.
She knew things about him that he never shared with anyone, including how he’d lost his virginity at fourteen in an attempt to anesthetize away his pain over his mom’s cancer diagnosis. In turn, Charlie told him about her own grief and struggle with her grandma’s passing. Particularly how rough the last few months were, when the Alzheimer’s made Charlie and her sister, Kaitlin, strangers to their grandma. He and Charlie had bonded over their experiences, growing closer than ever. Despite that, he didn’t talk about his dad. She didn’t know about The Grinder. He didn’t want those things to ruin what they had, so they’d remain locked away in his chest of unspoken things.   
Plowing his hands through his hair, he stared at the ceiling. Great. Now he was wide awake and wired. Like a junkie a week out from his last fix. Only in this case it meant getting through the night without hearing her voice. How was that remotely doable?
Listen to yourself. You sound like a crazy person. Just pop a damn sleeping pill and be done with it.
He peered at the glowing numerals on the clock. Two a.m. wasn’t all that late. Sure, for normal people, maybe. But not them. Odds were good she was still awake. If not, he’d leave a message and apologize for missing their time. It’d be the decent thing to do.
The constricting heaviness lifting from his chest, he dug his cellphone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts for Charlie’s 800 number. He pressed the Send button, relief already working its magic on him.  
 Two rings got through before her husky, slightly sleepy voice rasped across the line. “Hello, McHorny.”
He grinned at the nickname she’d christened him with after their spirit animal chat. “How did you know it was me?”
“Who else would call me at two in the morning?”
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe one of your other clients who is way less awesome and horny than me?”
She snorted. “If that last part was true I doubt they’d be calling me, smarty pants.”
“Well, see, that just proves they are lacking in the awesome department. I’d call you even if I wasn’t horny.”
“So you’re saying you’re not?”
“Mm, let’s not get crazy here.” He rested his hand on his belly and drummed his fingers. “But seriously, is it too late to talk? I was going to leave a message. Didn’t want you to think I’m some huge jackass who stands up his phone sex goddess.”
“Goddess, huh? Someone is trying to butter me up.”
“What’s this, you say? Slather your delicious body with warm melted butter and then ride you like a sexy Slip N Slide? Okay, you twisted my arm.” Distracted by the enticing visual in his head, he trailed his hand lower on his abdomen. His cock stood at attention, an always eager and primed participant in their conversations. Rather than give in to its beckoning call, he ignored his dick.  Anticipation was half the fun, right? He propped one foot on top of the other and inspected the crooked toe seam on his sock.
“Or there’s this little thing called massage oil,” Charlie offered, breaking through his perusal. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“Nah, I’m kinda digging the idea of butter now.”
“Uh huh. Why do I have the feeling this is going to segue into butt sex?”
Her suspicious tone prodded a chuckle from him. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about that. Clearly you’re the guilty party who’s watched Last Tango in Paris one too many times.”
“Ah ha! So you admit you were at least thinking about it.”
“I’m a guy. Butt sex crosses my mind several times a day. Usually at the most inconvenient moments, too. Like when I’m in an elevator full of nuns.”
“Really? How in the world did that come about?”
He’d been on strip-o-gram duty. Private bachelorette party at the MGM Grand Detroit. Who knew what the nuns were doing there? Maybe trying their luck at the blackjack table. “Can’t recall. Blocked the whole traumatic thing from my mind.”
“Poor baby. We can’t have you suffering flashbacks. Now back to this erotic Slip N Slide you mentioned. It sounds an awful lot like a Nuru massage.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re kidding me. I’ve actually discovered something McHorny hasn’t heard of?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you pumping your fist in victory right now?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Well, since you’ve already got the pumping action going, I have something else you can workout with. Your own personal dick dumbbell, if you will.”
“Aw, you’re too generous.”
“I know. Always a giver. And a grower.” He finally relented and slid his hand past his waistband. Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he closed his eyes. 


Because I'm an evil author, I'm going to leave you hanging there. Yes, I'm a horrible tease. ;)