September 24, 2014

Wednesday Briefs: Hope #44

Welcome to Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or less each week. I used: “Small hands, big…”

Hope #44

I woke to Shane's lips ghosting along my neck, while his erection nestled in my crease. My own erection sprang to life, and I moaned when Silvion shifted in the bed, his large cock pushing in my belly.
“Are you finally awake?” Silvion murmured.
Told you we should've been more forceful,” Shane said before I had a chance to open my mouth. He nipped at the junction of throat and shoulder and I gasped, allowing my head to fall back and give him better access.
On my front, Silvion rumbled something I didn't get. His right hand slid underneath my shirt until he reached my nipples. He brushed over them, then tugged at them. A drop of precome dampened my briefs, and I didn't know whether I wanted to push back against Shane on my back or push forward against Silvion to receive more friction.
My hands scrabbled for Silvion's shirt, anything to hold onto. At some point he must've discarded his shirt, which meant my hands roamed about his chest. His pectorals bunched under his skin and I shivered.
“You've got small hands,” Silvion said.
I froze mid-movement. Flicking my gaze up to his, I scowled. “That's not a line of thought I'd peruse further, or at least I wouldn't say stuff like that aloud if you want this”—I flapped my arm through the air, indicating the three of us—“to go anywhere.”
Shane chuckled. “You know what they say, don't you? Small hands, big—”
Groaning, I turned over so I could hide my flaming face against his chest. “That was bad.”
Silvion's hand slid between my legs, unerringly going forward till he grasped my cock. My breathing sped up as he palmed me through my briefs. “I agree with Shane.”
“Great.” I rolled my eyes. “I'm glad that's settled.”
Shane's chuckle reverberated through my body while Silvion kneaded my buttocks in his large hands—large and obviously very capable hands. Panting, I shoved back, wanting more contact, more of his calloused hands rubbing over my skin. A firm grasp stopped me, but not the whimper tumbling out.
“So vocal,” Silvion rumbled, “I like that.”
Yeah, yeah,” Shane muttered before he slanted his mouth over mine. For a moment, I lost myself in the sensation of Shane's tongue exploring my mouth, while Silvion divested me of my briefs.
When I came up for air, I asked, “You sound peeved. Why?”
Shane grimaced, then leaned his forehead against mine. “Long story.”
No, it's not. Shane always held back, it was a constant source of irritation,” Silvion threw in. He hoisted me up to pull my shirt off, then gently laid me on my back. A surge of desire rushed through me at the sight of Silvion, the not-so-subtle way his muscles flexed, displaying his strength. It was a total turn-on for me, and I made appreciative noises.
“Well, Gil is making enough noise for the two of us,” Shane said, his voice laced with an edge.
I gazed at him, unsure how to proceed. I'd never been attracted to two people before, and dreams of being taken by two men at once hadn't prepared me to deal with such a situation. Shane's expression was shuttered, though he kept rubbing circles on my belly. “If you don't want this, say so,” I said with more force than I'd intended.
Shane's gaze snapped up and he swallowed. “I do want this.”
“What if you decide you like him better than me?” he asked softly, his eyes shining with moisture.

September 23, 2014

Goddess Fish Promotions: Take the Heat by Skye Warren

Take the Heat
by Skye Warren



The ultimate bad boys, criminals capture our attention and awaken our darkest desires. Celebrate the illicit in this romantic suspense anthology, where handcuffs are used for more than play. These stories are shocking, sexy, and thought-provoking.

In New York Times Bestselling Author Skye Warren’s Magnolia Hotel, meet the heroine who pays her brother’s debt to a loan shark—who happens to be her childhood crush. Find out if the jury made the right decision in Acquitted by award-winning author Giselle Renarde. Explore a dark and sensual psychology with New York Times Bestselling Author Pam Godwin in Unlawful Seduction.

Ride the edge of desire and see if you can TAKE THE HEAT…

Skye Warren – Magnolia Hotel
Cynthia Richards – Captivated
Pam Godwin – Unlawful Seduction
Sheri Savill – Slipknot
Shoshanna Evers – This Might Hurt A Bit
Candy Quinn – The Bombshell
Tamsin Flowers – Playing with Fire
Elizabeth Coldwell – Disposing of Donnie
Audrey Lusk – Surprise Witness
Trent Evans – Last Day
Giselle Renarde – Acquitted




Maybe Liam still had that spark of humanity, of compassion, I’d once loved as a child. And even if I knew my brother was partly to blame for his situation, I couldn’t leave him to the wolves. Namely, one wolf. Liam.

I turned to my childhood friend who looked so different now with the glint of scruff on his face, with a bend in his nose where it had been broken. He looked some much more distinguished. In fact, he looked intimidating.

Please let him go. Even if he… I know what he did. But he’s my brother. I can’t leave here without him. Take the two thousand. I’ll get you more, soon. I promise you. Just don’t hurt him.”

Do you know how much he owes me, Grace?”

I swallowed. “Five thousand dollars?”

His face pulled into a slight grimace. He sighed. “Fifteen.”

I stood there, stunned. Unable to gasp or even breathe. Fifteen thousand dollars. I would never have that much money, not ever. But he was my brother.

Please,” I whispered, reduced to begging.

Liam looked away, and for a horrible second I thought it was a refusal. My stomach pitched wildly, in fear and doubt and desperation. How could I fix this? I couldn’t, I couldn’t. My brother was going to be beaten or killed.

Then he turned back to me, a hard glint in his gunmetal eyes. “There is a way you can help. You can be mine, Grace. Mine to do whatever I want with.”

Seconds passed with excruciating slowness as my mind protected me. Then reality slammed into me—all at once. He meant sex. I was almost sure he meant sex. Then I laughed at myself, hollow and jaded. What else would it mean?

I hadn’t thought it possible to hate Liam more, but I did, because he’d setup an impossible choice. For fifteen thousand dollars—and for my brother’s safety—I had to agree.

What did that make me? A prostitute? A sex slave?

I looked at my brother as the offer stood in the air. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Couldn’t he at least put up a token protest? At least try to protect my honor? But I was getting a clearer picture of Benny than I had our whole lives. Letting himself fall to this level was one thing, but dragging me into it was the last straw. I would do this for him—and that was it.

Never again,” I whispered.

I would never drain my bank account and come running to help ever again. Never sell my body for him. Never trust my brother again. It was like losing a family member. The only one I had.

Benny nodded, or maybe he was just drifting out of consciousness, his head bobbing slightly. Who knew? I was done. I would do what Liam required of me, and then I would be finished. Finished with family. Finished with criminals.

I’d be alone then.

I nodded grimly. “I’ll do it.”


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.

Visit Skye’s website for her current booklist:

Follow Skye Warren on Twitter:

Like Skye Warren on Facebook:


Hi, Skye Warren here! I’m the New York Times Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction, and I’m also the editor of Take the Heat, an anthology of criminal romance. I’m so excited to share this release with you.
One of the best parts of putting together this anthology was seeing what each author did. Sheri Savill’s story is hot as hell and surprisingly tender. Plus, she’s a seriously funny lady, so I’m excited to interview her. This one’s going to get personal. And a little weird, but in a good way…
Sheri, what is your most embarrassing moment?
Sheri Savill: I was 13 and in ninth grade English honors class (skipped a grade), the professor lectured as to how very important it was to look up new words while reading. If you couldn’t look up a word, then ask him, he said. Fine. This was a small private boarding school, so students interacted with the professors all day and night, and they encouraged that. This particular professor was walking along between classes one day and I’d been reading whatever he’d assigned and suddenly decided it would be good to show him that I took his lecture seriously, I had a word I’m come across in the assignment and was too lazy to look it up, so I decided to pull the book out and ask point to the word I’d marked, and just ask him. “Pro-phy-lac-tic,” I said. “What does it mean?” The man turned beet red and looked to be having a mini-stroke. And then I did. He never answered. He couldn’t even hem and haw. He just walked away from me, very fast. I looked the word up a short while later. “Oh. Well then, that explains it.” But then I got pissed. He’d assigned the book, whatever it was, and it wasn’t porn or anything. I was maybe “Catch-22” or something. I forget. Anyway, it was just “another use” of the word. But yeah, that was embarrassing. I’ve been scarred for life.Skye Warren: Um, yeah. Of course no one would ever say that. *coughs* And definitely never me. But let’s say you do meet a writer just starting out, what advice would you give them?
Skye Warren: What is your strangest habit?
Sheri Savill: I sometimes make off the wall comments to total strangers, to everyone and anyone, while waiting in lines. Just to see if they’ll get it, or laugh, or whatever. If it’s a really long line and not moving well, sometimes I’ll start mooing, like we’re all cows, right? Restless, unhappy, cows. I do the moo sound really well, too. It sounds very realistic. If I’m lucky, a couple people in the line will join in. My people! It’s an icebreaker, mooing is. Underestimate its power at your peril.
Skye Warren: Have you ever eaten a crayon?
Sheri Savill: No, but my brother ate a few marbles once, and then mom went crazy and grabbed him by the ankles and turned him upside down and shook him. Mom? Really? She has a genius IQ. Which makes it funnier. Hi Mom. Just embarrassing you in an interview, like a good daughter should.Skye Warren: Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?
Skye Warren: Where are you from and what do you love best about your hometown?

Sheri Savill: I grew up in Los Angeles and Hawaii. So I have no feeling of “hometown,” really. Most of my childhood is confused blur. Like I remember seeing some movie sets and famous people. You’d bump into them in the drugstore. Famous people buy corn pads just like the rest of us. Then I remember hot lava rolling slowly down a mountainside. Standing there watching it. I threw a stick. It burned up in the lava in a violent burst of orange flame. Happy childhood memories. Wait, you asked what I loved best about my hometown. Okay, I’ll say seeing that Barney dude from the original Mission: Impossible buying Slim Jims at 7-Eleven. I still tear up.

Skye Warren: If you had to do your journey to getting published all over again, what would you do differently?

Sheri Savill: I was published a long time ago (traditional) in all kinds of newspapers, magazines, journals. So my journey lately is only in e-publishing. In e-publishing, I would say I’d not bother with blog hops and stuff like that, I wouldn’t bother with ads, I wouldn’t bother with much self-promotion at all. It doesn’t work. I’m still invisible as hell. Also, I’d call in some favors from some big people I know. Shamelessly. Might still do that.

Skye Warren: Ebook or print? And why?

Sheri Savill: Blu-Ray. Heh. I love both print and e-books. I am always aware, however, that Amazon can, with the press of a button, delete everything I “own” from all my devices. Do not anger the Amazon Gods. So I tend to favor print books still. I have a LIBREE in my house. Yes. A real English library, with the whole leather-bound books thing going on. Butler, servants quarters, knot garden. It’s really pretty awesome.

Skye Warren: What is one thing your readers would be most surprised to learn about you?

Sheri Savill: An appellate brief I did is on reserve in a law library as an example of a powerful argument and good legal writing or something like that.

Skye Warren: Thanks so much, Sheri! And thank you all for coming to check out Take the Heat. If you’re down for a dark ride, I hope you’ll read it!

The ultimate bad boys, criminals capture our attention and awaken our darkest desires. Celebrate the illicit in this romantic suspense anthology, where handcuffs are used for more than play. These stories are shocking, sexy, and thought-provoking.

In New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren’s Magnolia Hotel, meet the heroine who pays her brother’s debt to a loan shark—who happens to be her childhood crush. Find out if the jury made the right decision in Acquitted by award-winning author Giselle Renarde. Explore a dark and sensual psychology with New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin in Unlawful Seduction.

New York Times Bestseller Skye Warren – Magnolia Hotel
Cynthia Rayne – Captivated
New York Times Bestseller Pam Godwin – Unlawful Seduction
Sheri Savill – Slipknot
New York Times Bestseller Shoshanna Evers – This Might Hurt A Bit
Candy Quinn – The Bombshell
Tamsin Flowers – Playing with Fire
Elizabeth Coldwell – Disposing of Donnie
Audrey Lusk – Surprise Witness
Trent Evans – Last Day
Giselle Renarde – Acquitted

Ride the edge of desire and see if you can TAKE THE HEAT…

Read Take the Heat now: Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | More buy links…

About Sheri Savill

Sheri Savill is the author of dark BDSM erotic romance, and humor, and is a real-life submissive who was into BDSM before it was cool. A career in media and journalism (reporter, editor, DJ, copywriter) drove her to the brink of insanity, so she became an attorney and web developer.

Known for her irreverent blog, Savill is tattooed, pierced, geeky, easily annoyed yet fun-loving, and well caffeinated. She speaks often of a treasured “letter from Dave Barry” that no one has actually seen. Award-winning sex author and columnist Violet Blue called Savill’s BDSM parody “painfully, hilariously timeless.”

When she’s not charging her portable electronic devices, Savill spends her time writing, thinking about writing, or wishing she had written. She scored a780 out of 800 on a standardized writing test of some sort and, just as she predicted, has never had to use calculus in her entire adult life.


The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter between this tour and the Review Tour, here.

Follow the tour and comment to increase your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:

September 21, 2014

Twitter Takeover on Monday, September 22nd

Just a quick note that I'll be taking over Dreamspinner's Twitter tomorrow from 2-3pm Eastern/11am-12pm Pacific. There'll be a couple of giveaways and I hope to see many of you there!

Also: The covers for The Wolf and His Diva and Secret Energy made it to the next round at the 2014 Rainbow Awards Cover Contest. :)
Vote for your favorite covers here:

September 17, 2014

Release Day: Tidal Change

It's release day for Tidal Change! :) I'll be taking over Dreamspinner's Twitter account on September 22nd (2-3PM EST) and of course there'll be some giveaways. I hope to see you there!

Buy links:

Something draws history teacher Rick Grady across the school hall to German teacher Marty Lindson. Maybe it’s their shared love of the ocean. Maybe it’s just that Marty is so hot, but maybe it’s something more—something mysterious. All Rick knows is that every time he gets close, Marty pulls away. After another cancelled date, Rick goes to Marty’s apartment to demand an explanation. And what Rick discovers blows his mind.

The ocean calls to Marty because he’s a merman. He’s been afraid to get close to Rick, not just to keep his world a secret, but because Rick is his mate. And to claim his mate would change everything about Marty. No matter how much he loves Rick, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to alter his entire life.

September 15, 2014

Fabulous Five Blog Hop

I've been tagged by Skye Allen for this blog hop. Here are the 5 fabulous questions (plus my answers):

1. What am I working on?
At the moment, I'm revising two science fiction novels and a contemporary novella (working title is Despite the Odds). Work is incredible busy, plus I just released Secret Energy and in two days Tidal Change will release, so I have my work cut out for me. I hope to get back in the writing mood (and have time for it!) in the next few weeks. I'll most likely start on a sequel to Despite the Odds— I'm quite taken with the characters. :)

2. How does my work differ from others in its genre?
How does one answer such a question? I'm an animal-lover and therefore animals often play an important role in my books. Sometimes they're companions, like Kit's large dog Jackson in Seizing It, but mostly I love to write shape-shifter stories. My favorite stories are those in which the men shift into small animals—like Billy, who can shift into a red squirrel (The Wolf and His Diva), or Jay, who is depicted as a baby hybrid between red fox and wolf in Secret Chemistry.
Other people have commented on the slight sub/dom vibe in my stories, but I'm not sure if that's much different from other works in this genre. I try for my books to be lighthearted, with a touch of humor and warmth.

3. Why do I write what I do?
I write in the m/m genre, though I'd never say I'll never write m/f. Actually, I'd love to try my hand at a m/f story with a really strong female, but so far no idea seems to be working out. Within the m/m genre, I write in pretty much every subgenre. I write contemporary (suspense/thriller, sweet romance, light BDSM), fantasy, science fiction, and paranormal. I don't like to tie myself down to a certain genre because I like them all. I also read in every genre, though I tend to pick up paranormal books with shape-shifters. Anyone see a pattern here? ;-)

4. How does my writing process work?
Usually, I have more ideas for books floating in my head then I'll ever be able to write. When I go back again and again to an idea, I jot down some ideas, decide on names and location, and then set to work. Since I can only write on the weekends, or when I'm off work, (I can only write in the morning, only when I'm on vacation I manage to write in the afternoon or early evening as well) I pour out words and lose myself completely in my story. Once the rough draft is done, I set it aside for a while, then clean it up before I send it to my beta readers. If I'm lucky, I only need to revise the manuscript once before I submit it, but often enough it takes at least two to three rounds until everyone is satisfied.

5. Who’s next on the blog hop?
I'm on the tail end of this blog hop, so I had trouble finding anyone to play along. However, the fabulous Joy Lynn Fielding agreed to participate, so go check out her post next week (and while you're there, check out her books, too!).

September 12, 2014

Enchantress of Books Blog Tours presents “Americana Fairy Tale (Fairy Tales of the Open Road #1)” By Lex Chase

 Americana Fairy Tale 
(Fairy Tales of the Open Road #1)
Lex Chase

Modern fairy-tale princess Taylor Hatfield has problems. One: He’s a guy. Two: His perfect brother Atticus is the reincarnation of Snow White. Three: Taylor has no idea which princess he is supposed to be. Four: Taylor just left his prince (a girl) at the altar. Despite his enchanted lineage, Taylor is desperate to find his Happily Ever After away from magic, witches, and stuffy traditions. Regrettably, destiny has other plans for him. Dammit.

When word reaches Taylor that Idi the Witchking has captured Atticus, Taylor is determined to save his brother. He enlists the help of rakish and insufferable Corentin Devereaux, likewise of enchanted lineage. A malicious spell sends Taylor and Corentin on a road trip through the kitschy nostalgia of roadside Americana. To save Atticus, they must solve the puzzles put forth by Idi the Witchking. As they struggle, Taylor and Corentin’s volatile partnership sparks a flash of something more. But princesses have many enemies, and Taylor must keep his wits about him because there’s nothing worse than losing your heart… or your head.

Available to purchase 


“I’m getting a shower,” Taylor said and quickly shuffled into the bathroom. In the silence, Taylor pressed his back to the door and slid to the floor. He clamped both hands around the crotch of his shorts and hissed through clenched teeth, “Stop, stop, stop, please, stop.”
He had to stop thinking about his dream. And thinking about Corentin in that way. Corentin wasn’t even his type! And Corentin’s type was clearly not a raging homo-sheckshual. By all of Taylor’s understanding, Corentin’s breed of redneck was of the misogynistic racist variety. Taylor paused. Was he just telling himself that? Taylor mentally felt around the edges of the dream. He flinched with the dirty feeling.
Shower. He needed a shower. Now.
He picked himself up off the floor, then staggered to the tub. The enamel had seen better days, with that lovely rusty ring around it. The shower curtain seemed to be a repository for all assorted natures of DNA. Taylor gingerly touched it in an effort to move it just out of the way enough to turn the faucet. Scuffed up and mottled with rust, even the faucet made him wince. He ripped off a sheaf of cheap toilet paper to use to turn the faucet on. First the water belched into the tub, then after a few rude bubbling gurgles, ran in a steady stream. It wasn’t particularly warm, however. Taylor surmised he didn’t really need a hot shower anyway.
He disrobed, dropping his clothes in a heap on the floor. But on second consideration, he didn’t have anything else to change into. What he had on his back was it. Like his cum-stained cargo shorts. Yuck. He scooped his clothes off the floor and hung up his shirt on the towel rack. He’d have to do something about his shorts, because they’d smell and get uncomfortably crusty. He chuckled. He would never have predicted how contentious he’d become about cleanliness until he only had one change of clothes for the foreseeable future.
As the tub faucet ran to get some marginable level of lukewarm, he cranked the faucet in the sink. He let the water run over the crotch of his new shorts and scrubbed them as best he could with the questionable cracked soap bar.
Corentin knocked once on the door. “Come on, man. Gotta pee.”
“Hold your horses,” Taylor huffed. “Let me get in the shower first. Great Storyteller Almighty.”
Taylor hustled and wrung out his shorts. He hung them also on the towel rack and finally hopped into the shower before poor pitiful Corentin could have an accident on the floor. Some self-reliant huntsman he was. Couldn’t he go out back and take a piss on a tree? Of course, there would likely need to be some nature of tree on the premises.
Taylor jerked the curtain across the tub for privacy and instantly regretted taking a fistful of it in such haste. “Okay! It’s safe.”
“I heard princesses were prissy, but I didn’t think it applied to male princesses,” Corentin said as he walked in.
Taylor could see the outline of his body through the haze of the shower curtain. He pushed himself back against the far wall to gain some distance. A small gap remained between the curtain and the shower wall, and he carefully peeked. With a familiar clanking of a belt buckle followed by a zipper, Taylor instead sent his gaze upward to Corentin’s face and his bare shoulders. Corentin had done away with his shirt, and Taylor’s face heated with the view. Corentin was lean, like a panther, his tattooed skin pulled tight over his biceps and hard abs. He finished, flushed, and turned away to zip his pants. Taylor pressed his fingers to his lips at the sight of the rise of Corentin’s tight rear as he shifted to the sink and washed his hands.
He studied himself in the mirror while Taylor stared through the shower curtain.
Corentin swung open the door and called behind him, “Don’t use all the hot water.”
“O-oh-okay,” Taylor croaked, his face hot from gawking.
The door shut with a click, and Taylor sighed with the relief. He looked down at himself in disappointment. Taylor was filthy from dirt, sweat, and whatever else was lurking in Corentin’s disgusting truck. He turned, reaching for the cracked soap bar. The blacked grooves in the soap made him reconsider. He reached for the mini Johnson & Johnson shampoo bottle and uncapped it. After a careful sniff, he tried to make sure it wasn’t rancid and questioned if it was possible for shampoo to go rancid. Figuring he would chance it, he scrubbed himself down with the terrible No More Tears formula.
He breathed one more time, trying to cope with the lukewarm water, and then decided it was time to face the reality of a nasty motel room with a man he didn’t trust who made him blush. He shut off the water and carefully maneuvered out of the shower without touching the petri dish that served as a curtain.
Taylor considered his clothes. His shirt could use airing out, and his shorts were a definite no. His only option was a towel around the waist. He didn’t even like that option in high school, let alone in the middle of nowhere with the current company. Ringo was there, though. That made it better. Ringo would save him.
Covering himself, Taylor took a breath. On a mental count of three, he turned the doorknob.
And the chill of the overworked window unit hit him square in the bare chest.
Fuck,” Taylor gasped and scuttled to the bed. He immediately wrapped himself in the threadbare blanket, which didn’t help at all. He had a string of curses on his tongue when he finally glanced up and saw Corentin.
More specifically, saw Corentin’s tattooed torso.
Corentin, on the other hand, busied himself with making notes in his monstrosity of a book. His brow would furrow every time he underlined something with a determined gesture across the page. He seemed not to notice Taylor’s open staring at the intricate black ink of an oak tree drawn in the style of Gustave DorĂ©. The trunk of the tree was a full sleeve with the roots growing from Corentin’s left wrist, and at his shoulder, the branches twisted in a windblown manner across his collarbone, shoulder blade, and a few branches even curled at the base of his neck.
Taylor swallowed. At least it explained why Corentin was so covered up for June weather. But something was strange about the tattoo. There were seven boughs, but only one had leaves.
Corentin kept making notes and didn’t look up. His brow furrowed into an even angrier contortion, and he wrote faster. When he apparently ran out of space, he flipped his book to sit horizontally and wrote in tiny print in the margins. He hesitated, tapping his pen on the paper.
Taylor pulled the blanket higher on his shoulders. The steam from his body captured under the blanket helped in making the chill of the room bearable.
Corentin scribbled again in his book. He frowned and scribbled in a repeated gesture. He shook his pen with a flick of the wrist and tried again. He grunted and threw the pen. “Fuck,” he said and went fishing in his messenger bag. He feverishly reached around, looked in, and then reached around again. He puffed a sigh and upturned the bag onto the carpet.
A palm sized bottle of liquid bounced across the floor and Corentin scrambled to snatch it midtumble. He glanced at Taylor and offered a smile. “Hand sanitizer. Can’t go anywhere without it.” He quickly shoved the bottle into a side pocket of his bag.
Taylor said nothing, merely watching the bizarre display as Corentin poked through the crumpled receipts, hair ties, old cracker wrappers, and various unidentifiable crumbs and wadded-up trash. He also flipped through a collection of condoms in shiny magenta wrappers and printed with hearts and lips. Taylor tightened his grip on the comforter and his face heated. Well, at least they were cherry flavored or something?
Corentin shook the bag again, and Taylor remained silent.
As a roll of duct tape tumbled out.
And then zip ties.
Taylor’s eyes snapped wide. Corentin had fucking huntsman death tools on him at all times. He shivered and scooted back on the bed. He judged the distance from the bed to the door in case he needed to run at a moment’s notice. Obviously a naked guy running down the interstate would get some attention. But he hadn’t seen any cars on the interstate since they ended up here. He nibbled at his lip. Maybe if he stole Corentin’s truck? That seemed like a good idea.
“Ah!” Corentin said, clearly relieved he apparently found a pen, and ignored the zip ties and duct tape. He resumed his furious scribbling.

About the Author

Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” She knew then she wanted to make the world a little more interesting too. 

Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure and epic love—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes if you’re going to going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love. 

Lex is a pop culture diva and her DVR is constantly backlogged. She wouldn't last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind. She is incredibly sentimental, to the point that she gets choked up at holiday commercials. But like the lovers driven to extreme measures to get home for the holidays, Lex believes everyone deserves a happy ending. 

Lex also has a knack for sarcasm, never takes herself seriously, and has been nicknamed “The Next Alan Moore” by her friends for all the pain and suffering she inflicts on her characters. She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine now residing in the burbs of Northwest Florida, where it could be 80F and she’d still be a popsicle. 

She is grateful for and humbled by all the readers. She knows very well she wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them and welcomes feedback.

You can find Lex at



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