Release Tour

Title: Beck
Series: Westside Skulls Motorcycle Club #7
Author: Jessie Cooke
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: January 14, 2019

 

Most little girls grow up idolizing supermodels, princesses or movie stars…but not Rebekah Golden. Rebekah “Beck” Golden grew up idolizing two men. One was her father, a Navy hero who died before she was even born…and a biker. Maybe being born along the side of the road in a desert, and seeing the bikers face before she saw anything else had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the letters that Xander “Coyote” Lee sent her every year on her birthday, showing her a side of himself that even those closest to him never saw, but those two men would serve to be the inspiration for almost everything she did for the first thirty-five years of her life.

 

 

 

When Beck finally had to admit that no matter how hard she worked, she’d never be the right gender for the Navy Seals that she coveted, she moved on to her next dream. But if she thought the US Government had a chip on its shoulder about women in their ranks…she hadn’t seen anything yet. Rebekah shows up in California at the clubhouse Coyote built, almost four years too late to gain his support. But she recognizes her hero in his son and manages to convince him to give her a chance. Rebekah will give more of herself for the goal of becoming a Westside Skull than she’d ever given to anything in her life…but will it be enough?

 

Beck Golden is a lot like the men she will have to fight against for what she wants. She cusses like a sailor. She’s got a dark outlook on life. She’s sarcastic and edgy….and when it comes to sex, she thinks like a man. She’s also drop-dead gorgeous, and she knows it. To Beck, it’s just another weapon in her arsenal of many. To keep from being thought of as just another club girl, Beck will turn that beauty in the direction of an unlikely and unsuspecting biker named Jace. Jace has had a rough life, and his exterior shows it. Big, dark and covered in scars, Jace makes most people want to run in the opposite direction, but Beck Golden doesn’t scare easily. Using Jace to satisfy her almost constant sexual urges will be the easy part though. Not falling in love with him once she starts to see past that frightening exterior…that might just be impossible.
Jace is a biker, a Skull, and in his role as a nomad his loyalty to both the Southside and Westside has been above reproach. He doesn’t believe any differently about women in the club than his brothers do. But what Jace does believe in is Beck. Through Jace and another unlikely champion, the president of the Westside Skulls himself, Beck might just discover that’s all she was looking for all along. Ride along with us and get to know Beck and Jace, and don’t forget to pay attention to the scenery. You might just uncover another secret or two about the club you love along the way.
* * *
Book 7 in the Westside Skulls MC Series.
This is a Standalone Romance Novel but characters from this story, will appear in future books in the series.
HEA and No cliffhanger.
Intended for Mature Readers.
* * *
The Westside Skulls MC Series is about members of the MC club, their friends and associates.
Each story, while focused around one main character, is not necessarily about a Westside Skulls club member, but the story is related to Skulls members and the club.

 

Chapter One
Mid-Atlantic Ocean


Rebekah Golden handed the sailor his bottle of pills through the pharmacy window. He looked at the label and said, “Do they dissolve?”

She rolled her blue eyes. “No. You swallow them.” God, she hated this job.

“I can’t swallow pills. Does it come in liquid?”

“Are you serious? How old are you, sailor?”

“Twenty.”

“How the hell did you make it to twenty years old without the ability to swallow a pill? Mommy crush everything up for you, did she? Or maybe she had them give it to you in suppository form?”

The young kid looked like he might cry. The only emotion Beck felt was disgust. She hated soft, weak people, especially men. Some days, she could hardly stand it at all. The US Navy was full of whiny, immature little boys…who were given preferential treatment over women like her, just because they had a penis. Beck had seen quite a few of them, the penises that is. Just that morning she’d seen her favorite one, her on-ship booty call. His was impressive, but still not worthy of bragging rights in her opinion. Beck had been in the Navy for almost seventeen years. She would be turning thirty-five years old in a couple of months and she could outrun, outlift, outswim, outshoot, and out most of them at just about everything else.

She’d been training since day one to be a SEAL. Hell, she had started training for that when she was a kid. It was all she ever wanted to be. And she had gone into the Navy, sure that it wouldn’t be long before the US Government realized how much potential they were wasting. About that, sadly, she had been wrong. In 2017 they still denied women the right to be in combat. They denied them the right to be in the Special Forces of all branches of the military. And their only reason was that they didn’t have penises. It pissed her off every time she thought about it. Beck knew that her balls were bigger than any of these assholes and she proved it on a daily basis, so she had just finally decided…fuck them. She had put in for early retirement and that was happening in a week. If the SEALs didn’t want her, she would go blaze a new trail.

“I’m sick,” the sailor said. “My throat hurts. Can you please…?” The sound of the alarm drowned his whiny voice out, thank God. Beck didn’t waste time by asking him to repeat what he said. She didn’t care to begin with, and the second that alarm went off…her switch was flipped. That sound opened her adrenaline valve and it poured into her system. It made her feel strong, sharp, and most of all, alive.

Beck slammed down the window in the pathetic little sailor’s face and twisted the lock before grabbing her EMT bag and running for the door. She locked it on her way out and paused only long enough to hear what was coming over the radio speaker mounted overhead. The screeching noise stopped and a scratchy, robotic voice wafted out.

“White smoke, Compartment 2B L Aft CPO! Explosion, fire, black smoke, Compartment 2B L Aft CPO! Away the Flying Squad, away! Away the Flying Squad, away!” Those words were music to Beck’s ears, especially when the voice followed that up by saying, “This is not a drill.” 99 out of 100 times that alarm went off, it was a drill. Those were okay too…they at least broke up the monotony of her day-to-day job as a nurse, or more accurately, a pill pusher.

Beck had always sought out danger and thrills, and she had picked the nursing squad when she first entered the Navy, imagining herself on the frontlines as a medic, or like one of the nurses on the old television show, MASH. What she got was eight hours a day of looking at rashes in strange places and inflamed dicks because these idiots were too stupid to wear a rubber. She handed out more penicillin and Ibuprofen than she did anything and it bored her to tears. So, the second she was given the chance to join up with the Flying Squad, she jumped at it. Amazing that someone without a penis was good enough for that…but, in this case, she wasn’t complaining.

“Away the Flying Squad” was the Navy’s call to the elite group of sailors she belonged to. They were comprised of people from all specialties such as machinery repair, damage control, hull technicians, medical personnel, and firefighters. They were the first line of defense on a ship when an incident occurred out at sea. These sailors were put through basic and advanced damage control classes and then they learned to perform every position on the team from the top command in charge to the guy that mopped up the mess afterwards. They responded to fires, floods, toxic gas leaks, and many other types of emergencies. It was the only thing that Beck lived for lately…that, and her plans for after retirement.

She raced toward the left aft, the port side of the back of the ship. Anyone and everyone on the ship that wasn’t a part of the Flying Squad, or involved in the emergency itself, would still press pause on whatever they were doing. They would look toward the speakers on the wall and wait for the orders to come. Even those sailors that were sleeping would be expected to wake up and be ready in the event that they were needed, or that an evacuation was called for. 

Beck reached the main hallway, still running, balls-out. Even as she saw the foot traffic in front of her, she didn’t slow her motion. She yelled out a warning, and if they didn’t move they would get mowed down. Either way, Beck would arrive at her post ahead of most of the rest of her team every time. The Flying Squad did enough drills that the other sailors knew what to do when that alarm went off. Their main jobs were to stay alert and get the hell out of the way. Beck likened it to pulling over to the right-hand side of the road to let an emergency vehicle pass. Any idiot knew the drill, and Beck had knocked them down like dominoes more than once…just so they never forgot again.

Beck knew every inch of the ship, the USS Alaska III. She’d not only been deployed out to sea on it several times now, but as part of her training in the Flying Squad, she had to pass a test, labeling every inch of the ship, every nook, cranny, and closet. She could do it in her sleep now, or behind a curtain of thick, black smoke. They often piped the smoke in during their drills to allow them practice using their gas masks and oxygen tanks, and the team members were expected to get to where they were going, quickly and blindly.

Beck made it to the control locker where all the equipment was stored in under a minute. The Fire Marshall was already there, handing out the equipment the team would need as they arrived, and issuing orders. The locker held breathing apparatus, fire extinguishers and hoses, medical equipment…and much more. Everything they might need in an emergency situation was in the control locker, and Beck was confident that her commander knew exactly what he was doing when he barked out his orders.

“There was an explosion on the fantail and there’s a fire. We have one man down that I know of. I have no idea if he was injured in the explosion or the fire, or if it’s smoke inhalation. Take a litter and make sure your radio is on. I’ve already notified the medic chopper and they’ll be standing by for orders.”

Beck grabbed a second medical bag and in one fluid movement she and her partner picked up the litter, the basket that they would transport the sailor out in if need be. Her partner placed it up against his back and held onto it with one hand while he reached up and grabbed the furthest rung he could reach on the ladder with the other. Beck steadied the basket on his back with one hand and slowly climbed up behind him. As soon as he was up top, he pulled the litter the rest of the way through and Beck tossed up both of her bags and then followed them. 

The smell and the smoke were both overwhelming. She slapped on a pair of latex gloves and put the gasmask on; so did her partner, and they moved forward through the thick, black smoke. It was like soup and they were both moving by memory and not by sight. It smelled like oil was burning, which made sense, since the deck they were on was where the storage containers were kept in a compartment all the way at the aft of the ship. It looked like the firefighters almost had the fire contained already as they got closer, but Beck knew that the toxic, billowing smoke could be twice as deadly as the flames.

Her partner dropped to his knees and let the basket drop down next to him on the deck. Beck slid in on her knees, opening her bag before she even stopped moving. She was at the sailor’s head and she positioned it so that his airway was open. She put her thumbs in his mouth and pulled it open so she could see if there was anything blocking his airway. What she did see made her cringe. His tongue was black and so was the back of his throat. Her partner had cut open the man’s uniform and was putting the AED pads on his chest and ribs, and it was Beck’s job to put the non-rebreather mask on and make sure he was getting oxygen. She hesitated. If they were able to restart his heart, this sailor was in for a long and arduous journey and from what she saw, he would more than likely have lung damage and suffer from breathing problems for the rest of his life if he made it. He would probably die en route to the hospital after they cracked a few ribs to get his heart restarted. That was almost exactly the way her father had died. When she was old enough, she requested a copy of the death report from the Navy. He had been near an IED that exploded and set a gas pump on fire. He inhaled too much smoke, but the medics saved him…long enough for his cracked rib to puncture a singed lung and cause him to choke on his own body fluids and die on the way to the base.

“What are you doing, Golden? Get the mask on him!” her partner snapped.

“He’s gone,” she said. “Are we really doing him any favors at this point?”

“Damn it! That’s not your call and you know it.” Her partner pushed her out of the way. Beck didn’t like to be manhandled and her first impulse was to go back at him, but she was stopped by another one of their teammates. He was a friend of hers and when he grabbed her from behind he said:

“Do you really want it to end like this, Beck? Seventeen years…and a dishonorable discharge?”

Beck looked down at the man on the deck. She saw her father’s face. He was twenty-two years old when he died…a horrible death. She never got to meet him, but she always wondered if he thought about her in those moments right before he took his last breath. He was discharging from the Navy in less than two weeks when he died. He was coming home to be with her and her mother. She wondered if this kid on the ground had any kids of his own…or one on the way.

“Beck,” the friend who was still holding her said softly. She nodded and pulled away from him. Her partner was back on the AED. Beck took hold of the rubber bulb and began to force oxygen into the man’s lungs. Just about the time they heard the chopper approaching, the AED informed them that the man had a pulse. The next second he began to cough and choke and wheeze. He was choking on his own blood and vomit as they loaded him into the litter and attached it to the cable the chopper had lowered down to them. Beck didn’t wait around and watch him go. As soon as she let go of the litter, she was gone. She turned in her equipment and went straight to her quarters. She would get her ass chewed out for not staying for mop-up and debriefing. She might even get written up for it, but if there was one thing that Rebekah wasn’t about to do in front of any man, it was cry.
Jessie Cooke writes hot romance novels about tough guys, bad boys, bikers, fighters and lovers and the women of strong character who tame them.
 

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Release Tour

Title: Risk Worth Taking
Series: Music for the Heart #3
Author: Faith Starr
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 30, 2018
Logan Trimble, the guitarist and bad boy of a famous alternative band, has been burned to the extent he uses women in an effort to mend his broken heart.
 
Drew Sanders is the love that got away.
A vacation brings the two together unexpectedly.
But how can Drew trust someone who betrayed her, especially when her safety is in jeopardy?
Sometimes taking a risk is the only way to find out.
 
Risk Worth Taking is book three in the Music For The Heart Series. All books in the series can be read as standalones but are best read in sequence. All of Faith Starr’s books have happily Ever After endings.
 
*Note to reader: This book contains sensitive material and adult themes. It is recommended for those over 18

My emotions had me so choked up I could barely swallow. I breathed deeply, unsure of what to say. So I acted instead. I took her in my arms and comforted her. Maybe I didn’t have the right words to speak, and maybe I couldn’t undo the past, but I had faith she would give me a chance to right my wrongs.

 

She had to.

 

 

She just had to.

 

 
MEET FAITH STARR
When I’m not managing my husband’s medical practice or taking care of things for one of my three kids, I love writing romance fiction.
There is absolutely nothing like getting into the minds of my characters, bringing them to life, and giving them a life of their own with all the emotions that go along with it. I am swept away, head over heels in love, with each and every alpha male I create and the confident women who steal their hearts.
Being a romantic at heart, with a bit of a dirty mind, I relish creating stories that touch upon readers’ heartstrings, provoke thought, and hopefully provide a bit of insight into some heavy topics.
 
Being married for over twenty-two years ─ holy cow, how time flies ─ I honestly believe in “Once Upon a Time” and “Happily Ever After” endings because I found mine. Aww, I know, so mushy. But that’s me, a softie with a big heart. A bit of a nut too.
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Release Tour

Title – Soul Food: A Steamy Paranormal Love Story
Author – Michelle Gross
Genre – 18+ Paranormal Romance
Release Date: November 25, 2018
With no choice, a human bargains her soul for ten years of music and song.
 
With no time for anything beyond her dream, Ruth Thomas becomes a worldwide sensation, never knowing love or appreciating lust until she finally meets the mysterious president of Black Hearts, Amit Kingston.
 
In a game of seduction, Ruth thinks she can enjoy a moment of lust, if only once, before the demon comes and devours her soul. Only the demon makes touching men impossible and getting Amit Kingston to crack is a job itself.
 
The demon doesn’t just own her soul. He controls every aspect of her life, including her fragile heart and her body’s desires.
 
Worst of all, Ruth doesn’t realize how close the demon really is.

Crimson eyes blinked from the shadowy man. There was a shimmer in his silhouette, like maybe he was moving closer. There was no mouth or eyes. Nothing. Just a shadow with burning red eyes.

 

“Your soul sang to me, Ruth. It’s why I’m here.”

 

 

I shivered. “Please,” I begged, then closed my eyes. “This can’t be real.”

 

 

“But I am,” he responded.

 

 

My eyes popped open. “What are you?”

 

 

“A demon. A soul reaper.”

 

Michelle is from a small town in Eastern Kentucky where opossums try to blend in with the cats on the porch and bears are likely to chase your pets—this is very true, it happened with her sister’s dog. Despite the extra needed protection for your pets, she loves the mountains she calls home. She has a man and twin girls who are the light of her life and the reason she’s slightly crazy.
 
As a kid, she was that cousin, that friend, that sister and daughter, the talker who could spin a tale and make-believe into any little thing so it was no surprise when she found love in reading, and figured all these characters inside her head needed an outlet. They wanted to be heard, so she wrote.
 
The voices keep growing faster than she gets the time to write. 
 
The stories are never going to end. That’s perfectly okay, though. We never want to stop an adventure. 
 
She writes and loves many different genres so sign up to her mailing list to keep updated on her releases!
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Release Tour

Title: Lasts
Series: Cape Hill #2
Author: C.L. Matthews
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: November 21, 2018
 

 

Él es de otra.

 

He’s married. He’s forbidden, but I want him.
Knowing what can never be kills me.
No podemos desafiar al destino, estamos destinados el uno para el otro.
 
 
Ella está con él. 
Pero él no es digno de ese amor, y ella siempre será mi vida.
I’ll burn the entire world to the ground until she rights her wrongs.
This will end with us, and she knows it.
 

After Firsts I was hooked, after Lasts I’m addicted!
CL Matthews can melt my kindle any day. She has a way with taboo that just leaves you wanting more. Lasts was not enough! – Book Boyfriend Whoarder

I thought I was ready for Lasts. It turns out I had no idea. This book was so good! – Kate Tinnin, Goodreads Reviewer

A love so strong that drove these characters to be intertwined in their paths, we follow a story with glimpses of a past where I greedily took everything C.L Matthews shared with us. Truly this author has created something with more than a romance but a tale where the journey breaks all taboos. – Gizel Alvarez, Goodreads Reviewer

 

C.L. Matthews resides in Utah, the state with the best snow on earth. She is not a fan of the snow but loves her state just the same. She is known for her swag business and creative pieces. C.L. Matthews is a swag maker, reader, and a fairly new author, it isn’t an easy task but she wants to succeed in many things. Her hobbies consist of crafting, drinking coffee until she can’t consume any more, and reading until she falls asleep with books in her lap. C.L. Matthews is married to her childhood best friend, she got her happily ever after.

 

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Release Tour

Title: Jigsaw
Series: Hell’s Handlers MC
Author: Lilly Atlas
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: November 6, 2018

 

After being disappointed by her family one too many times, Izzy’s convinced the only person she needs is herself. Seeking a life with fewer relationships, she leaves the bustle of the city and moves to small-town Tennessee. Her plans for quiet and solitude don’t last long after she’s adopted by both the men and women of the Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club.
 
Once upon a time, Lincoln had a picture-perfect life. Sweet, loving wife, beautiful daughter, enviable career. But one fated night, it’s all wiped out, leaving him scarred both mentally and physically. Now known as Jigsaw, he’s a force to be reckoned with, and a valuable asset to the Hell’s Handlers MC. He’s also done. Done with love, done with dreams, done with women…unless it’s to work off some tension.
 
Despite their resolve to avoid entanglements, chemistry blazes between Jig and Izzy and becomes harder to resist with each encounter. When the club’s enemies set their sights on Izzy, the Handlers pull her even further into the fold. Everything Izzy believes about families is challenged as Jig and his club prove they can be counted on again and again.
 
Fighting side by side with a fearless woman, even one as smokin’ as Izzy, isn’t something Jig wants, but it might be exactly what he needs. If club business doesn’t destroy them, do Jig and Izzy stand a chance of letting their pasts go and finding happiness?

Island Girl Romance Reads – “Lilly Atlas is quickly becoming one of my favorite MC author! Her books are amazing.”


MJ’s Book Blog and Reviews – “Another highly enjoyable read from Lilly Atlas and I give Jigsaw 5 stars.”


Beyond the Covers Blog – “This author has such an amazing gift at making you feel like you were there in that book and I can’t wait to see where she take Copper’s book.”

A full five minutes early for his appointment, Jigsaw shouldered through the door into Inked, the one and only tattoo shop in Townsend, Tennessee. But even if it wasn’t the lone ink provider, even if there was a tattoo shop on every corner, it’d be the only one to receive his business. Inked was the best, by far. Rip was a master with a tattoo machine and could bring anyone’s vision to life.
 

 

Maverick and Rocket filed in after him, immediately taking seats on the ratty couch butted up against the display window. His brothers had tagged along despite knowing how much Jig hated an audience for this.

 

 

 

 

Every year on his wife and child’s birthdays, which just happened to be only three days apart, Jig added to a tattoo on his thigh. Without fail, it put him in a shitty mood, and his brothers damn well knew it. But they couldn’t just leave him the fuck alone. They had to stick their fucking noses in his shit and follow him, so he didn’t “do something stupid.”

 

 

 

 

Every damn year.

 

 

 

 

Assholes.

 

 

 

 

“Hey, Jig,” Rip called out. “Lemme talk to you for a second.” He stepped from behind the privacy curtain pulled around his customer. To say the shop was simple would be a ridiculous understatement. Inked was about as no-frills as it came, with two tattoo stations, a reception desk, a second-hand couch, and a few sketches on the wall. Rip didn’t give a shit about the décor or ambiance. He gave damn good ink and had the reputation to prove it.

 

 

 

 

“What’s up, Rip?” Jig asked after Rip waddled his large frame cross the shop.

 

 

 

 

“Hey, I’m running about forty-five minutes behind, man. I’m sorry.” Rip gave Jig a sheepish half smile.

 

 

 

 

From the couch, Maverick laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Woohoo, does this mean Jig gets to have his face inked on you?”

 

 

 

 

Not one to find much shit funny, Jig snorted. Rip was a bit of a psycho when it came to lateness. Threatened to tattoo his face on a client if they were late to their appointment. He’d done it before, too, the bastard. That was the reason Jig never let himself be later than five minutes early. Last thing he needed was Rip’s ugly mug on his ass cheek.

 

 

 

 

“I really am sorry, man,” Rip said. He ran a hand through his receding gray hair and shifted uncomfortably, seemingly flustered, which wasn’t him.

 

 

 

 

“Everything good?” Jig asked.

 

 

 

 

Rip lowered his voice. “Yeah, just had this broad come in crying a few minutes ago. Breast cancer survivor who recently had some reconstructive surgery. Wanted me to ink nipples on her. Someone recommended me specifically, and she’s unwilling to go to anyone else.”

 

 

 

 

“Well, fuck me, Rip,” Mav said. “Why didn’t you start with that? Now I feel like an ass for ragging on you.”

 

 

 

 

With a shrug, Rip swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Shit, I’m sweating, guys. This is a lot of pressure.”

 

 

 

 

This time, Jig let out a small laugh. “You did all our Hell’s Handlers back pieces without blinking an eye, and you’re afraid of some nipples?”

 

 

 

 

“It’s a big deal,” Rip grumbled.

 

 

 

 

Jig slapped him on the back. “Hey, man, no worries. I can reschedule.” In reality, the change to his schedule pissed him off, but what the fuck could he do? He wasn’t about to be the asshole who pulled Rip away from a cancer survivor. Jig might be an unfeeling bastard, but he wasn’t a robot.

 

 

 

 

“Nah, not necessary,” Rip said as he walked toward the desk. “I got someone else who can do it.”

 

 

 

 

Jig froze and scanned the shop. It was then he realized there was a curtain pulled around the second chair as well. Muffled voices could be heard from behind the fabric wall but not well enough to make out what was being said. “You telling me you actually hired some help?”

 

 

 

 

For the past two years, Rip had been saying he needed to hire a second artist. Ever the control freak, no one actually thought he’d let another professional into his shop. He found fault with every other artist out there.

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, I did. They’re just finishing up the aftercare convo. Then you can meet ’em.”

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know.” Jig frowned. No one but Rip had gone near his skin with ink and needle.

 

 

 

 

“They’re good, Jig. Wouldn’ta hired ’em otherwise. Trained ’em myself actually. About ten years ago, right before I moved to the area and opened up shop. Take a look at some of their work.” He dug around behind his desk and pulled out a beat-up binder, laying it out on the counter.

 

 

 

 

Like a bunch of teenage chicks who didn’t want to miss out on the gossip, Mav and Rocket hopped up to join him at the reception desk.

 

 

 

 

Mav, who had more inked skin than not, whistled. “Shit, Rip. These are fucking amazing. This guy might do better work than you.”

 

 

 

 

It was meant as a joke, but Rip snorted and nodded. There was definite truth to Maverick’s words. The lines were so precise, the images so vivid and perfect, it was hard to believe they were done by a human hand. One of the photos was a butterfly that looked like it was literally lifting off some chick’s shoulder. Amazing.

 

 

 

 

“Give ’em a shot,” Rip said. “Promise they’ll do you right.”

 

 

 

 

Jig sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. Time to trim his beard. He’d gotten lazy the past few weeks and had let the growth get a little out of control. He always kept some amount of facial hair because it covered the bottom third of his scar, but he tried to keep it neat. Most of the time. “All right, man. Let’s do it.”

 

 

 

 

Seemed like Rip was really trying to push the new guy. Probably wanted to build up his clientele. If the work in his portfolio was an accurate reflection of the guy’s skill, he’d be a fool to turn down this artist. He could help a friend out and get some quality ink in the process.

 

 

 

 

“Great.” Rip’s yellow-toothed smile beamed. “Oh, here she comes now.”

 

 

 

 

“Wait, what?”

 

 

 

 

She?

 

 

 

 

Maverick coughed in a weak attempt to cover his laughter, but it quickly turned to a gasp.

 

 

 

 

Oh, yeah,” he said under his breath. “That one’ll do you right, Jig.”

 

 

 

 

“Holy fuck,” Rocket whispered.

 

 

 

 

Rip wore a shit-eating grin, the fuckstick. He’d purposefully misled them into thinking it was a dude. Jig didn’t want some bitch getting anywhere near him with a needle. He flipped his brothers off and spun to check out this lady tattoo artist for himself.

 

 

 

 

Ho-ly shiit.

 

 

 

 

About five-feet-eight inches—and that was without the four-inch stilettos—of pure sex and sin strutted her way straight toward him. Somehow, this woman had poured herself into the tightest black leather pants he’d ever seen. They molded around her long, shapely legs and, damn, if he didn’t wish for her to turn around. He just bet she had a stellar ass that would only be enhanced by the grip of soft leather.

 

 

 

 

With each step, the side to side sway of her hips drew his eye like he was watching the pendulum of a clock swing back and forth. Forcing his gaze from her hips, he trailed it upward, not oblivious to the tight black tank top that cupped her breasts as snugly as the leather cupped her thighs.

 

 

 

 

“Hey, boys,” she said, her voice on the lower side. Husky, he’d call it.

 

 

 

 

Mav whistled. “Damn, woman. And I say this in a totally non-creepy, non-flirting way because I have a woman that would shoot off my junk if I so much as hit on another chick, but you are some kinda fucking gorgeous.”

 

 

 

 

Jig ground his teeth together as the new lady tattoo artist threw her head back and let out a throaty laugh. Fucking Maverick. Flirting and charming women was just part of his DNA. He truly meant it when he said he wasn’t hitting on her. The man just couldn’t let a beautiful woman walk away without her knowing she was gorgeous.

 

 

 

 

“Aren’t you the charmer,” she said, placing her hands on those fantastic hips.

 

 

 

 

Damn, her body was out of this world. Not skinny, not even too curvy, it was more…athletic. Sleek lines with swells of muscle in her arms and a flat stomach. The girl must spend some serious hours in the gym.

 

 

 

 

“Guys, this here is Isabella. I taught her everything she knew about ten years ago. She finally agreed to move here and work with me.” Rip beamed with pride as he introduced his protégé.

 

 

 

 

“Please,” she said, “call me Izzy. One of you boys looking for some ink?”

 

 

 

 

Fuck no.

 

 

 

 

Wasn’t happening.

 

 

 

 

Rocket cleared his throat like he had a whole steak lodged in there. If the asshole wasn’t careful, he’d have Jig’s fist lodged down there instead.

 

 

 

 

A hand slapped down on his shoulder. “My man Jig here needs some ink.”

 

 

 

 

Fuckin’ Maverick.

 

 

 

 

“Don’t want to mess up your schedule,” Jig said. “I’ll come back when Rip can fit me in.”

 

 

 

 

Rip’s face fell, making Jig feel like scum. Wasn’t the shop owner’s fault that Jig wanted nothing to do with most women. Unless he was fucking them. That was pretty much the only time he associated with them. Of course, his brothers’ ol’ ladies couldn’t seem to leave his ass alone. Always trying to bring him food, fix him up, and acting like freaking mother hens around him.

 

 

 

 

Especially Mav’s woman, Stephanie. He’d helped rescue her from a fucking psycho not long ago, so now he’d become her special project.

 

 

 

 

“Oh, I’ll, uh, check my book.” Rip waddled behind his desk and flipped through his old-school appointment book.

 

 

 

 

Izzy’s dark, almost black eyes just stared at him, hands on her hips, earning her Jig’s scowl. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

 

 

 

 

Instead of caving under his murderous glare, one of her perfect black eyebrows arched high into her forehead. “You afraid your dick will invert if a woman puts some ink on you?”

 

 

 

 

She had a set of balls, he’d give her that much. “Nah, I—”

 

 

 

 

“I’ve inked hundreds, actually thousands of dudes.” She gasped and covered her mouth with her unpolished fingertips. “Shit, I’ve even tatted some bikers.”

 

 

 

 

Behind him, Mav and Rocket chuckled. Fuckers were enjoying this way too much.

 

 

 

 

Izzy leaned closer and dropped her volume. “Promise you, bubba, not one of those guys grew a pussy because I was the one holding the needle.”

 

 

 

 

A strangled sound came from Rocket, and Maverick flat-out laughed. Rip joined in, and soon the three of them were cackling like a bunch of fucking hyenas.

 

 

 

 

Goddamnit. Not only had she interrupted him, sassed him, and tossed attitude at him, she’d thrown down a challenge. His damned male pride left him no choice.

 

 

 

 

“Show me to your chair,” he grumbled.

 

 

 

 

A massive grin of victory broke out across her gorgeous face. “Follow me, bubba,” she said as she spun on one of those pencil-thin heels then sashayed to her station.

 

 

 

 

And fuck if he didn’t feel a twitch of his dick and a twitch of his lips. Where his cock’s interest came from, he had no idea. Miss Izzy couldn’t be further from his usual type.

 

 

 

 

He liked ’em blonde, blue-eyed, small, sweet, and docile. Not tall, dark-haired, and mouthy. She’d even shaved the sides of her head, adding to her badass-bitch look.

 

 

 

 

But as he watched the very long tail of a tight braid swinging back and forth across the top of what was, without a doubt, a stellar ass, he couldn’t deny his animal attraction to her.

 

 

 

 

Fuck. This was gonna be a shitty few hours.

 

Lilly Atlas is a contemporary romance author, proud Navy wife, and mother of two spunky girls. By day she works as a physical therapist for a hospital in Virginia. Lilly is an avid romance reader, and expects her Kindle to beg for mercy every time she downloads a new eBook. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened yet, and she can often be found absorbed in a good book.

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Release Tour/Giveaway

Title: Book Boyfriend
Author: Dawn L. Chiletz
Genre: Contemporary Romance Standalone
Release Date: November 2, 2018
I’ve completely had it with men. I’m done.
 
And in case you were wondering, book boyfriends aren’t real. I should know because I write them.
 
My name is Greer Hanson. I think I’ve lost my mojo. After having my heart broken, I can’t seem to write about romance or love. When my best friend and publisher recommends an inspiration vacation, I decide to give it a whirl. What’s the worst that could happen?
 
Enter the perfect stranger. Patrick Fisher knocks me off my feet with his rugged good looks and charm. After one night with him, the words begin to flow. Since I know I’ll never see him again, I use him as my muse. But what do I do when my fantasy comes to life and that man steps right out of the pages of my book? 
 
Book Boyfriends can’t be real. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Am I willing to risk having my heart broken all over again?
 
Maybe this time reality will be better than fiction.
 

Dawn L. Chiletz resides in Illinois with her two amazing boys and three loving dogs. When she’s not binge writing or reading, you’ll most likely find her somewhere on social media making a sarcastic comment or watching animal reunion stories while she cries like a baby. 
 
To find out more information, including her upcoming signings, please visit her website at: 
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Release Tour

Title: Goodbye, Kate
Author: Nicola Haken
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: October 29, 2018
Cover Design: Sommer Stein at Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Goodbye, Kate is a thrilling, unpredictable ride ~ Heather, White Hot Reads

 

Deception, action, drama, angst, and love ~ Stephanie, Goodreads Reviewer 

 

Truly phenomenal read! ~ Michelle, One Click Aholics


Crime families and mob wars only exist in the movies. Betrayal. Violence. Murder. They don’t happen to ordinary people.
 
Right?
 
Wrong.
 
For Lincoln Hollis, this is his world, and there isn’t a clapperboard in sight. A trained killer and advocate of justice, he’s been sent to unravel the neat little bow tied around Kate Fletcher’s perfect life, exposing her to the brutal truths she’s been so meticulously shielded from, before delivering the ultimate punishment for her family’s sins.
 
There’s just one problem. They’re his family’s sins, too, and he must make a choice.
 
Who will he say goodbye to first?
Nicola lives in Rochdale, England with her husband and four children. She is the author of multi-genre romance, including the Amazon international bestseller, Broken. When she is not busy playing with her imaginary friends (or talking about them with real life friends) she can usually be found carrying out her ordinary mum/housewife/all-round-slave duties, bingeing on boxsets, drinking too much Pepsi Max, or fussing over her menagerie of pets. Oh, and if the kids ever ask, she moonlights as the Pink Power Ranger while they’re sleeping…
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