Category Archives: Dark Romance

New Release! Pretty When You Cry (Stripped #3) by Skye Warren

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Pretty When You Cry (Stripped #3)
by Skye Warren

An Erotic Romance Novella
Released October 20th 2015

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A new dark romance novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Wanderlust and Prisoner…

I came from a place of dirt floors and holy scriptures. They told me the world outside was full of sin, and the first night I escape, I find out it’s true. Ivan saves me, but he does more than that. He takes me. He makes me his own girl.

My conditioning runs too deep. Ivan sees what I am.

That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.

 

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Review

 

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Stripped Series

Stripped Series

Tough Love: A Stripped Prequel
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Love the Way You Lie: A Stripped Novel, #1
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Better When It Hurts: A Stripped Novel, #2
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Even Better: A Stripped Novella #2.5
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About the Author

Skye Warren is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of dark romance.

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Tour: One Love (Gypsy Brothers #7) by Lili St. Germain *Chapter One, Trailer and Giveaway*

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One Love (Gypsy Brothers #7)
by Lili St. Germain

An Erotic Romance
Released December 16th 2014

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*The final book in the #1 iBooks bestselling Gypsy Brothers series*

Will Julz complete her mission for vengeance against the Gypsy Brothers? Or is Dornan still one step ahead?

More shocking secrets will come to light and lives will be lost in this final, devastating instalment of the Gypsy Brothers series.

 

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Chapter One

The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.

“I want my lawyer,” I repeat for the hundredth time.

There are two CIA agents in front of me, and they’re playing a very cheesy rendition of good cop / bad cop.

We’ve been at this for hours. Boss Bitch — Agent Dunn, as she’s since told me — on one side, and her completely dumb but cute male offsider, Agent Brennan, on the other. In my head, to pass the hours, I’ve nicknamed them Agent Bitch and Agent Dumbass. I sit across from them, my hands in my lap, heavy metal cuffs weighing them down.

My throat is dry, my tongue parched. Agent Dumbass has a fresh can of Coke in front of him, and I can see the tiny beads of condensation running down the sides. I want it. I want to reach over and grab the can. I don’t even need to drink what’s inside. I’ll settle for the condensation making its lazy descent down the side of the bright red can and onto the dusty Formica table that separates me from them.

“Let’s try this again,” the female cop says, tucking a loose blonde hair behind her ear. The rest is up in a severe bun that reminds me of a matronly grandmother, even though this woman only looks about thirty. She’s got a slight southern inflection that reminds me of Elliot’s grandma.

I don’t reply, waiting for whatever it is she plans on doing next. Her next big thought, her latest overdone gesture, to try and convince me that I should spill all of my dirty secrets onto this table between us. So far she’s used threats against Jase, a plea deal that would grant me immunity, and long stretches of silence.

None of that will break me. I’ve been tortured by Dornan fucking Ross. This woman’s going to have to try a lot harder, or maybe get out some pliers and start yanking my teeth out of my mouth, before I’ll give her a single damned thing.

She snatches up a manila folder and opens it, handing a photograph to her male offsider. “Stick these up,” she barks at him, and he moves slowly, ripping a section of blue-tack from a large blue ball of the stuff that must live permanently on the wall to my left. I watch, just slightly interested as to what they’re going to try and scare me with.

They don’t disappoint. As I watch them pin 5×7 photographs to the wall, I can’t help but feel some sense of satisfaction for the lives that ended at my hands. I have to remain impassive though, so I tamp down the gloating grin that wants to spread across my face and settle for my resting bitch face instead.

Dunn peeks at me from the corner of her eye, and I return her gaze impassively. She might think she can get under my skin, but I grew up in the Gypsy Brothers MC for shit’s sake. I know how to hold out in front of a cop.

“Chad Ross,” Dunn says, smoothing her pants as she stands up and circles the table, coming to stand next to the photographs her partner is sticking up in a haphazard fashion. I wait for her to reach out and straighten them. Boom. Three seconds later, she does just that, making sure all of the photos line up.

“Chad Ross was poisoned,” she continues, tapping one manicured fingernail against the photo of his bloated death face.

“Looks nasty,” I reply.

“It’s a nasty way to die,” Dunn says, peering at me. “The killer added pure methamphetamine to an energy drink he later consumed. He was probably dead before he hit the ground.”

He wasn’t. He suffered. Thankfully.

“And you’re showing me this why?” I ask, studying my own nails, bitten down to the quick. I never was a girly girl. It’s not easy to keep your nails tidy when you’re constantly trying to claw your way back from death.

Dunn looks at me pointedly before jabbing her fingernail towards the second photo. Ahhh, yes. Maxi in all his naked, bloody glory. His face is a mess from the coke I shoved underneath his nose, the coke laced with strychnine that made blood gush from his nose like warm water from a faucet. I still remember the way his blood felt on my hands. How surreal everything was, bright and garish, as my skull burned with a small amount of the poisoned coke I’d snorted myself.

How I’d nearly died in my quest to kill him.

How it was so worth the risk to see the look on his smarmy fucking face, when I whispered in his ear who I really was and sat back on his lap to watch the fury rise in his cheeks.

As he realized a black widow was the one who’d just fed him his last meal of poison and cocaine.

I glance at Agent Dunn, clearing my throat and attempting to look bored.

“Strychnine-laced cocaine,” she says. “In fact, the same thing you were admitted to hospital for that very night. Jason Ross brought you in to emergency room. They said you almost died.”

“It was a hell of a night,” I reply curtly. “My nose still bleeds just thinking about it.”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, and in that moment I have no doubt that she’s cataloguing me as a sociopath or similar.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say suddenly.

“Shoot,” Dunn responds.

I reach my hand out slowly, methodically and take hers, a bold move. She could pepper spray me, shoot me. You’re not supposed to touch the interrogators. But she’s ballsy enough that she doesn’t want to take her hand away, even as I watch her flinch minutely.

“How do you keep your nails so pretty?” I ask sweetly, the saccharine in my voice not reaching the cold death stare I give her. I hold up my other hand. “Mine are hopeless. You spend much time in the field, Agent Dunn?”

She takes her hand away, and I let my own cuffed hands fall back into my lap. I know her skin must be crawling from my touch.

I hope the feeling stays there for a long time. She should not have fucked with me.

“I take good care of myself, Miss Portland,” she says briskly. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

“My child died,” I say blankly. “Physical appearance isn’t on the top of my priority list right now.”

She bristles momentarily. “I am sorry for your loss,” she says finally.

I sit back, crossing my legs. “No, you’re not,” I reply.

She points to the third photograph, which is… hell, I’ve got no idea what that is. I tilt my head, trying to figure out what I’m looking at.

“It’s a leg,” Dunn supplies.

“Ohhh,” I say, nodding. “Thanks.”

It is indeed a leg, or at least part of one. Charred and black, with spots of unmarred flesh and blood still peeking through in sections. Huh. I wonder who it belonged to.

“Two Ross brothers were killed in an explosion. Somebody put homemade bombs in their fuel tanks, can you believe that?”

I shrug. “Sounds like they must have had it coming.”

Dunn points to the final photos, and a cloying heat bleeds up my chest and neck as I remember those three months of horror and torture I endured at Dornan’s hands before I was broken out. The way Dornan’s father Emilio flew backwards with a meaty thump as the top of his head was blown clean off, blood and brains flying everywhere. Mickey’s look of horror that didn’t fade after the bullet entered his face, such a satisfying end for men whose only fault in death was that their ends were much too swift. I imagine how much more satisfying it would have been to hang them by their feet and burn their eyes out with cigarettes and blowtorches, or pull their teeth out with rusty pliers, one by one.

That would have been much more fitting for the men who tried to destroy me, the same men who murdered my father.

Still… they’re dead, and that’s better than them being alive.

“That’s got to give you a headache,” I joke, referring to the last two pictures. The blood and gore have no effect on me. My stomach is made of iron after the atrocities I’ve seen, after all that I’ve endured. If this bitch wants to rattle my cage, she’s going to have to try harder.

“And then we have Jimmy,” she says, sticking one last photograph to the wall. Jimmy’s face, still frozen in shock, the trail of blood from his temple where Jase shot him barely noticeable in the extreme close-up.

“He looks unwell,” I comment. “Thing is, I’m still not sure why you’re showing me all of this.”

Dunn frowns so hard it looks like she’s about to burst a blood vessel.

“Here’s the thing,” she says, throwing a stack of photographs in front of me. “We’ve got you. We have your DNA on the first two victims, and motive. We’ve got probable cause to take you to trial.”

I sift through them, suppressing a twisted smile as I see what happened to Jazz and Ant after they bit the big one when bombs in their motorcycle fuel tanks exploded, ripping them to pieces. It isn’t pretty, what became of them. But to me, it’s beautiful.

I drop the photographs on the table and lean back in the hard metal chair I’ve been sitting on for the past five hours.

“These people are — were — like family to me. Don’t you think it’s a little tacky showing me all of this? I’m still grieving for these boys. They were like brothers to me.”

Agent Dunn actually rolls her eyes at me. At least she’s got some spunk somewhere in there. “Give it a rest, Miss Portland,” she says impatiently. “You’ve got more motive than anyone else, and no alibi for any of these murders.”

“Motive?” I ask sweetly. “And what might that be?”

Agent Dunn hesitates. Go on, I think. Say it. They raped me until they thought I was dead. The murdered my father, and you want to arrest me? Say it.

“I’m not authorized to talk with you about an active investigation,” Dunn says finally. “But I really think you should start talking, Miss Portland.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay,” I say finally. “I give up. You got me. I’ll tell you something. Let me write it down.”

Dunn’s beady eyes practically wig out of her head. She studies me for a moment, probably to see if I’m telling the truth, and I stare right back at her. If she wanted a wallflower who’d stare at the floor, she arrested the wrong girl.

After a beat, she stands up, turns and bustles out of the room. I divert my attention to Agent Dumbass, who looks like he’s about to fall asleep in his chair.

“I’ll make a full confession,” I say, “if you give me that.” I point to the coke can and he eyes it dubiously. After a pause, he slides the can over to me with one finger. With a smile, I pick up the can between my cuffed hands and take a long drink.

The fizzy liquid burns on the way down my throat, but it’s delicious. I drink as much as I can before Agent Bitch returns, setting it back down on the table and smiling at Dumbass. I slide the can back towards him with a wink. Let him think we’re friends. Let him think I’m just a silly young girl who couldn’t possibly hurt anyone. He looks surprised, taking the can back as Agent Bitch walks back into the room.

She looks between me, the can and the goofy look on Agent Dumbass’s face and shakes her head.

Sliding into her seat, she drops a yellow legal pad on the table between us as she addresses Dumbass.

“She killed a man by poisoning his drink with pure meth,” she says to her partner. “You sure you want that back?”

“Allegedly,” I add.

The oaf stares at the can for a few seconds. Finally, he pushes it back in my direction with an embarrassed look.

In the past five hours or so since I was unceremoniously dumped in this interrogation room, I’ve gone through the whole gamut of emotions. Fear. Shock. Despair. Now, I’m at anger. Anger that bubbles within me. Anger that is thinly disguised as apathy to these two morons.

Dunn drops a blue Bic pen on the legal pad and pushes it over to me. I hold up my cuffed wrists helplessly.

“I can’t write with these things on,” I say.

Dunn gives me the filthiest look before nodding at Dumbass. He stands and circles around to me, removing my cuffs before returning to his spot.

I WANT A LAWYER. I write it as obnoxiously large as I can, underlining the word LAWYER three times.

Agent Bitch’s smile disappears, replaced by a thin line of contempt at her mouth. I grin. Good luck getting those cuffs back on me, motherfucker. I sit back in my seat and snatch up the Coke, draining the rest of the can before they think to take it from me.

“We can play this game for however long you want, Miss Portland,” she says curtly, fiddling with the stack of crime scene photographs in front of her. I smile.

“I’ve got all day,” I say sweetly, even though I really, really don’t. Dornan has Elliot’s daughter and ex-girlfriend, and possibly Elliot himself, and Jase and I have twenty-four hours to meet him and get the girls out of danger before he kills them. At least, that’s what I’m assuming he plans to do to them. I can’t even comprehend what else he might be planning to do to those poor girls to get back at us.

Agent Dunn shakes her head one last time, gathering up the files and stalking towards the door. “I’ll give you some time to think about your position,” she says.

“Isn’t this illegal?” I call out to her. “I’m an American citizen. I have the right to an attorney. Get me a goddamn lawyer!”

Really, I just need a lawyer to post bail so I can get the hell out of here. Not that I’m sure I’d actually be bailed out, but I need something, and talking to these two is proving fruitless. A cold panic is building up inside my stomach, in the hollow space where my baby once lived and died.

God, it’s still so raw, so vicious when the memory of our tiny little baby takes hold and squeezes me. Sometimes, selfishly, I wish I could forget about her, because losing her has cursed me with more pain than I could ever imagine.

If I had any remnants of doubt about killing Dornan before? They’re gone, bled from me in the moments after our daughter was born, still and dead, in the early hours of the morning when the world was still dark.

He took her from me. From us. And I cannot rest until he’s dead and buried, a rotting corpse in the cold ground, a memory and nothing more.

Dornan Ross needs to burn for the things he’s done.

Agent Dumbass follows his partner out of the room and pulls the door shut. I immediately stand up and go to the door, testing the handle. Locked from the outside. Of course. I go back to my chair, collecting the pen someone so thoughtfully left for me and shoving it into my pocket. You know, just in case I need to stab somebody sometime soon.

Which, as it turns out, is sooner than I’d anticipated.

About an hour later, Agent Bitch sticks her head back into the room. “Your lawyer’s on the way,” she says, closing the door behind her again.

This could be anyone. A cop posing as a lawyer to get a confession on tape. A hit man, sent by the Gypsy Brothers or the Cartel. I’m like a sitting duck in here, and I don’t like it one tiny bit.

But what greets me isn’t any of those things.

It’s so much worse.

I don’t move an inch as the door swings open and he walks into the room. Dressed in a suit I’ve seen before, clutching a black leather briefcase by his side. He looks positively fucking amused.

“Well,” I say bitterly, “They’ll let any motherfucker take the bar these days, won’t they?”

 

 

GYPSY BROTHERS FAN MADE TRAILER from Scandalicious Fans on Vimeo.

 

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Gypsy Brothers Series by Lili Saint Germain

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Six Brothers (Gypsy Brother, #2)
Five Miles (Gypsy Brothers, #3)
Four Score (Gypsy Brothers, #4)
Three Years (Gypsy Brothers, #5)
Two Roads (Gypsy Brothers, #6)

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About the Author

lili saint germain bio
Lili writes dark erotica and NA. Her debut serial novel, Seven Sons, is was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband, good coffee, hanging at the beach and running. She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.

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One Love (Gypsy Brothers #7) by Lili St. Germain *Pre-Order Link & Giveaway*

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One Love (Gypsy Brothers #7)
by Lili St. Germain

An Erotic Romance
Released December 16th 2014

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*The final book in the #1 iBooks bestselling Gypsy Brothers series*

Will Julz complete her mission for vengeance against the Gypsy Brothers? Or is Dornan still one step ahead?

More shocking secrets will come to light and lives will be lost in this final, devastating instalment of the Gypsy Brothers series.

 

Pre-Order

on elove

iTunes | B&N

 

GYPSY BROTHERS FAN MADE TRAILER from Scandalicious Fans on Vimeo.

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Gypsy Brothers Series by Lili Saint Germain

The gypsy brothers series add sb
Seven Sons (Gypsy Brothers, #1) FREE
Six Brothers (Gypsy Brother, #2)
Five Miles (Gypsy Brothers, #3)
Four Score (Gypsy Brothers, #4)
Three Years (Gypsy Brothers, #5)
Two Roads (Gypsy Brothers, #6)

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon AU | Barnes & Noble | iTunes

 

About the Author

lili saint germain bio
Lili writes dark erotica and NA. Her debut serial novel, Seven Sons, is was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and so far is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband, good coffee, hanging at the beach and running. She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.

Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter | Website | Join the mailing List!

 

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Tour: Master Over You: A Dark Romance Novel by Cerys du Lys, Ethan Winters *Excerpt and Giveaway*

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Master Over You: A Dark Romance Novel
by Cerys du Lys, Ethan Winters

A Dark Romance
Released October 20th 2014

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There’s a monster in every closet, and I’m in yours

My name is Noah. I’m not a nice person. This isn’t cupcakes and candyland, love.

I’ll take you, break you, and offer you to the highest bidder without a second thought. You’re mine now. It’s business, nothing personal. You wouldn’t understand, and I’m not going to explain it. Sorry, love, you don’t mean a thing to me.

Just know that there’s a monster in every closet, and I’m in yours.

Author Note – This dark romance novel contains themes that may be discomforting to some people. If you are sensitive to depictions of violence, then this book is not recommended for you.

(Ethan Winters official debut release co-authored with USA Today bestselling author Cerys du Lys)

Man’s POV = Ethan, Woman’s POV = Cerys

There is a light at the end of every dark tunnel, no matter how dim it may seem.

 

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Excerpt

This guy is a fucking idiot.  No joke, I don’t understand how someone can be like this.  I will never understand it.  He was directed to me by an acquaintance or some shit, and I’m doing them both a favor, but he’s got some really fucked up ideas about what kind of business I run.

I read over his email again, probably for the hundredth time.

Noah, he starts, and that’s the only sane word he says in the entire thing.

He wants a girl, so we have that part straight.  I only work with women.  Nothing against men, they just don’t interest me that much.

Anyways, this guy wants me to find him a girl.  Younger is better.  He says he doesn’t care how old she is, but I’m not into that creepy underage shit.  I get that he’d probably like that, but I’ve got morals and limitations here, as fucked up as that sounds.

It’s not just that, though.  Young, alright.  I can find someone that’s college-aged easily enough.  Those are usually the easiest girls to deal with, too.  Not enough experience to know any better, so they’re easy to capture, and then they fall in love so fucking easily it’s sickening.  It’s like you just chain them to a wall for a week and after that they’ll do anything you say, they’ll just get on their knees as soon as you come in, slobber on your cock until you get off, and even thank you for cumming all over their face.

There’s more, though.  Young, yes.  College-aged, sure.  On the shorter side, which I had to ask him for clarification about and he replied with anything under 5′ 5″.  Got it, I can work with that.  Not overweight, either.  Sure thing, boss.  What’s overweight?  He comes back with some arbitrary number that doesn’t mean anything.  Under one-hundred-forty pounds.  Weight doesn’t mean anything because I can do something about their weight, but it’s good to have guidelines like that.  It’s easier, too.  If they have restrictions on looks, then you want to know what they’ll look like before you go through with the whole process.

Overweight girls are usually really fucking attractive once they’ve lost even just twenty pounds.  It’s kind of fun, too.  When I kidnap one of them and get them in shape, I feel like I’m really making a difference in the world.  Self-esteem, right?  They’re easy to control, too.  Show them how fucking hot you’ve made them and they practically melt at your feet, even after all the other terrible shit you’ve done to them.  It’s real sweet.  Makes me want to pretend I’ve fallen in love before I send them to their buyer.

I can deal with this guy’s requests about age, height, weight.  I asked him about looks and he got back to me that he wanted someone cute.  Cute, sure, what the fuck does that mean?  Give me an example here?  He shows me a picture of some celebrity who somehow hasn’t posed nude in a men’s magazine yet.  I didn’t even know it was possible to find a girl like that.  She’s got that sort of heart-shaped face, with a bubbly personality and the cheeks to match.  When she smiles, it makes you want to pinch her cheeks and then fuck her hard.  The innocent type of girl.  A little shy.  Not dumb, but naive.  She might have a lot of book smarts, but she doesn’t know anything about reality.  I get it.  I understand the sort of girl he wants, and it shouldn’t be too hard to find her, because that’s basically every girl in the history of the world.

And her name has to be Chastity White, he says.

What the fuck?  We’ve gone back and forth about this, and I just do not understand.  I asked him if it has to be White?  Can it be Chastity Wight?  Same pronunciation.  No, he says.  What about LeBlanc?  Same idea, right?  No, he says.  Does it have to be Chastity?  I can do this a lot easier if I’ve got a few more options for a first name.  I give him suggestions, too.

Purity?  Grace?  Faith?  No, no, no.  Motherfucker.

Look, we can just rename this bitch.  I will give her a new name.  She doesn’t need a name.  Her name is literally the least important detail about her.

 

About the Authors

Cerys
Cerys is a USA Today Bestselling Author. She has charted on numerous best sellers and hot new release lists internationally and with multiple books.

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Ethan
Ethan is a gentleman, an author, a lover, and occasionally a rake, a cad, and a dom, but only if you’ve been good (punishing good girls is more entertaining than punishing the naughty ones). He lives in the Greater Boston area in a small town in New Hampshire where he grew up.

He has a penchant for exploring and traveling, with a passion for the unique and interesting. His interests include reading, exercising, laying on the beach, spanking (good girls), romancing, smiling, going for walks that lead to nowhere, hiking, bondage, and one day he would love to travel to Alaska.

His writing delves into the human experience, with a preference towards a psychological thriller twist. He loves mystery, dark romance, and suspense. While some of his writing may be twisted, he believes in romantic true love, above all things. His books include raw, real emotions, good and bad. He believes there is a light at the end of every dark tunnel, and his writing hopes to encompass that.

He loves happy endings, kissing, and a focus on the ordinary turned extraordinary.

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Tour: Pieces of Autumn by Mara Black *Review, Excerpt and Giveaway*

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Pieces of Autumn
by Mara Black

A Dark Romance
From Indie Published
Released July 31, 2014

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I wish I could tell you that I was stolen.

Kidnapped off the street in some third-world country, sold against my will, while a desperate family back home waited and prayed and talked about me on the news.

I wish I could tell you that, because then you might understand.

What really happened? I walked to my fate with my eyes wide open. But before you say I deserved whatever happened to me, you should know. I was desperate. I was alone. I was afraid for my life. You would have done the same thing.

I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

But then, I woke up in darkness, unable to move. There was only one thing I was sure of: I wasn’t alone anymore.

And then I heard HIS voice…

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Review

3-stars

When Autumn decides to sell herself into slavery the last thing she is expecting is to find herself attracted to the very man who bought her. Although surprised and a little afraid, Autumn can’t resist but be drawn to Tate.

As the story began, I realized that this was not at all the story I expected. It takes place in the future where food and shelter are scarce and where women turning into slavery for survival was the norm.

I also found the pace to be too slow in the beginning. I was curious to see where Autumn would end up next and what was in store for her, but I found myself putting my tablet down for a break–something that I don’t usually do. Thankfully, once Autumn was sold off to Tate, the story started to move along nicely.

Those things aside, I do think that the concept behind the story had merit. I enjoyed the characters and their struggles. I liked watching how their connection grew, especially when they found pleasure in the same things. Tate was an interesting character to get to know. He fought with his ‘other side’ a lot, which gave me glimpses on how truly broken he was. And although Autumn was not as ‘broken’ as Tate she did have to struggle with her attraction/feelings towards Tate, which brought about her own struggles to the page.

All in all, an interesting story. Not as dark as some I have read, but neither simple or light.

*I received a copy of this title in exchange of my honest opinion.

 

Excerpt

“Never say that word to me.”

I had never heard his voice like that. Not once. My blood chilled in my veins. If I thought I’d ever been afraid of Tate before, it was nothing. Absolutely nothing compared to this.

I’d wanted to unnerve him, but instead, I seemed to have unhinged him. Unleashed something I didn’t understand, and didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Too late,” he replied, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. His tone was pure venom, pure sin, pure fucking evil. “Too late for apologies.”

In that moment, I had three choices.

I could fight him.

I could run.

Or, I could tie myself to the mast and meet him, measure for measure.

I chose the storm. With the hurricane himself standing there, his pulse pounding so loud I could almost hear it, I chose to stand tall.

What was happening? What was he about to do? I had no way of knowing, no way of guessing what he’d do. How he’d ruin me.

But I knew I could survive.

His hand lashed out and grabbed mine, lifting it to his face. Eyes half-lidded, he brought my fingers to his lips, my thumb pressing past them and up against his teeth. Finding resistance, for a moment, until he parted them and suckled it into the soft, wet heat of his mouth.

 

About the Author

Mara Black is a connoisseur of love that lurks in the shadows .

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