Ryan liked the way her cheeks flushed when she stared at his crotch. The flash of innocence was a total turn-on. How could she look so innocent when she was so unabashedly sexy? He couldn’t help but groan as her hands slid over his ass cheeks and squeezed. Unintentionally, he tilted his hips towards her as he slid a hand into her hair. With the other hand, he tilted her head upwards and pressed his lips against hers. He tasted the alcohol on her as he traced the seam of her lips. She stepped closer to him and lost herself in the kiss. She squeezed his ass again, harder this time, and he groaned. His ass muscles clenched in her grip. The burning ache between her legs intensified.
A mysterious killer who calls himself The Artist is assassinating wealthy lawyers in San Francisco. When war veteran Jake Wolfe accidentally takes his picture during a murder, The Artist adds Jake to his kill list and he becomes a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse that only one of them can survive. How far would you go to protect your loved ones from a killer? Jake wants to leave his top secret, violent past life behind him. But the reluctant, flawed hero can't ignore his duty and his personal moral compass
What do you do with a diamond no one wants? You can’t keep it. Or can you?
The Uprising Series tells the story of three freedom fighters and their friends in high — and low — places that come together to overthrow a vainglorious Emperor and his militaristic Cabal to restore the city, and the way of life, they once knew and loved.
“I’m not in the mood,” I said as I finished pulling down my shirt. I tried hard not to notice the movements her dress made against her feminine curves. But I was a man and no straight man in his right mind could resist giving the attention demanded by that oh-so-perfect cleavage. “You do not get to choose, mon Bel-Ami,” she said. Hearing her use my name like that did things to me that no human being could have ignored. “Or have you forgotten how this works?” she added. “I haven’t, but no amount of French-silver-tonguing will make me like it,” I retorted. It was a weak protest and we both knew it.
“But there’s nothing for me anymore,” Thais said, wiping away the lingering tears on her cheeks. “There’s nowhere for me to go, and no one waiting for me there if by some miracle I make it alive. My mother and father are dead. My sister”—she looked up at me, and although I didn’t meet her gaze, I could feel her eyes on me—“my whole family is dead, and this world is dead and my soul is dead and everything that was once good and beautiful and right, is dead.”
There comes a time when a man must choose to do that which he should not. The memory lies like a flame about to be extinguished, flickering in the past for lack of notice. And yet, when brought to mind, it flares to life, along with the shame…and regret.