Monday, October 20, 2014
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Author: Jenna Tyler
Release Date: April 11, 2014
Find on Goodreads
Friday, October 17, 2014
On the brink of going pro in MMA, Tyler Graves has defied his past—a past where going to jail for beating the hell out of his foster father took him away from the girl he loved and swore to protect, leaving her in the house of the man who abused them both.
Chained To Regret.
No matter how much time has passed, Danielle Debasco weighs on Ty’s mind and conscience. He was supposed to save her, instead he abandoned her.
Chained To Love.
To free Danny from the abusive man who still haunts her, Ty’s faced with sacrificing his future by finishing what he started four years ago—taking vengeance. But, this time will be different. This time he won’t stop until the horrors of their past are sealed not just in blood, but in death.
“Sip slow,” I told her, handing her a cup of chicken broth. “No. I never tried to find her.”
“Do you ever think about it?” she asked, taking a couple crackers out of the box I set on the table.
“No. She took off on me. I don’t want to force my way into someone’s life who doesn’t want me there.”
She made an, “Mmm,” sound, nodding and staring into her mug. “What about you?” I asked. “Have you talked to your mom?”
Danny was taken away. Her mom wanted her, but she couldn’t take care of her. When we were with Striker, she’d make wishes on stars and dandelion fuzz and birthday candles for her mom to take her back home, but her mom never got her shit together.
“A couple years ago,” Danny said, “Striker told me she overdosed.”
I put down the glass of water I’d poured her a bit too hard, with a thunk that echoed. “She’s dead?”
“That’s what he said.”
I watched her take a sip of her broth, hesitant to say what I was thinking. But it was Danny, and she’d have already thought it, too. “Was he lying?”
She shook her head. “I looked it up online at the library. Found her obituary. It didn’t mention a daughter.”
I sank into the chair beside her and took her hand. “You know what sucked the worst about my mom leaving me? She didn’t want to know me anymore. I mean, it was fucking shitty of her to abandon her kid, but after that, when I was alone at night in the dark I thought about how she didn’t know I liked to draw.”
“You lived to draw,” Danny said, squeezing my hand.
“Yeah, and she had no idea. She didn’t know that when she left the lady next door made me sleep on an old dog bed infested with fleas and sprayed me off with the hose instead of letting me shower.”
“How can people be so cruel? You were a little kid.”
“We were both little kids, Dan. People are fucking animals. They take care of their own and screw everyone else.”
“Not everybody,” she said.
I thought about Mike. “No, I guess not everybody. Most people.”
“I thought my mom wanted me,” she said. “I thought she’d try to get me back. When they took me away, she cried and promised she’d do everything she had to so we’d be together again.” She looked up at me with watery blue eyes. “She lied. She never tried to get me back.”
The pained expression on her face gripped me inside and twisted. I hated her mom. I hated Striker. I hated my own mom. How could they all do this to us? Then it hit me. I promised to go back for her, and I never did. Just like her mom.
I leaned forward, pressing her hand against my chest and my lips to her temple. “I want you, Danielle. I want you in my life. I always have. I was selfish and caught up in setting things right first, but I never forgot about you.”
She turned to me and stroked my cheek. Her eyes roamed my face, her sorrow of past memories gone. She watched her fingertips grazed my lips and lifted her eyes to mine, asking permission.
My heart drummed. I took her hand away and cupped her face, bringing her close enough to feel her breath on my cheek. I ran the tip of my nose up and down the ridge of hers before tilting her head and securing my lips against hers.
It was like breathing in life. Like I’d only been keeping myself alive with air in my lungs, food and water, but this—Danny in my arms with our lips seeking and discovering—this was really being alive.
The tip of her tongue edged along my bottom lip and started a fire in my gut. I dropped my hands from her face and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her onto my lap. Our tongues darted in and out, shy and bold at the same time, learning the feel of each other. How could Danny—my Danny—still have part of her for me to discover?
The thought sent my mind south of her navel. Danny wasn’t the girl she used to be. If I were honest, I’d admit to myself that I’d noticed it when we were teenagers. She’d gotten hips and breasts and a firm, round ass. By the time she was fourteen, it was hard to look at her like she was the same little girl anymore. I never thought of her as a sister. Maybe if we’d lived in a house that was like an actual family instead of an abusive nightmare.
Sitting here with her ass pressed against my crotch and her lips and tongue slick and hot against mine, I was so fucking happy I’d never thought of her as my sister, or I’d be in for some serious guilt. There was no way I was turning back from being this close to her.
I wanted more.
I wanted closer.
I wanted inside her.
She parted her lips from mine, panting, and looked at me with hazy eyes. The last thing I wanted was to pressure her, scare her. “Should we stop?” I asked, hearing the deep rasp of lust in my voice.
She gazed into my eyes for a moment before shaking her head and falling back into our kiss.
I stood, picking her up in my arms, and carried her upstairs. In the bedroom, I laid her down on the bed and straddled her, sitting on my knees with my hands on either side of her head. “I need you to tell me if you don’t want to do this,” I said. “Or if you want me to stop.”
She gave me a sinful smile and looked up at me with those lusty, hooded eyes. “I’ve wanted this for as long as I knew what sex was, Tyler.” She ran her hands up my thighs. “I wanted this to take away what I didn’t want. To replace it with you. Someone who cared. Someone safe.”
Favorite Author: Diana Gabaldon
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
My name is Blaire.
I’m the bad girl.
The other woman.
The one who never gets the guy in the end.
I’m the gold digger.
The one no one roots for.
The one you love to hate.
I hate myself too.
Everyone has a story. Are you ready for mine?
What is love?
I don’t know.
I’ve never had it.
Is it even real?
No, I don’t think so. I mean, how can I believe in love when I’ve never witnessed
it? When it seems to only exist in books and films, or in the lives of more fortunate
people than me? Trust me, I know.
Love is my personal chimera.
I am gazing at brown eyes, admiring the richness of the color, the beauty of the
man to whom they belong to.
“You’re so beautiful, Blaire ... so wet,” he murmurs, his hand going between my
legs as he begins to rub me. His fingers spread me open to their soft invasion, tuning my
body to his wants and needs, preparing me to be taken as the hot friction of his touch
lights a wild fire within my body. It’s not the first time he has touched me like this, but
each time feels better and better—the sensations all-consuming and heady.
Over and over again.
His invasion is fast and slow, deep and shallow. His touch is soiled heaven.
As I open my legs wider for him, I wonder if it feels this good because of him or
because I’m taking something that doesn’t belong to me and making it mine.
“Oh God ... I love you, Blaire. I love you ... I love you ...” he pants in my ear.
Okay, maybe it’s because at this moment in time this man thinks he loves me and
no one else but me, however false his proclamation may be.
I close my eyes as his lips land on mine. He kisses me softly as if I’m made out of
gold, kissing me with that familiar mouth I’ve seen smile tenderly at me so many times
before. The assault of his tongue debilitates me but doesn’t incapacitate me.
“It’s four dollars, gorgeous,” the cute barista says, smiling at me.
I’m about to pay for my cappuccino when I hear a deep, manly voice say, “Let me
get that for you.”
A man wearing a beige suit comes forward, standing next to me as he hands the
barista some bills. “I’ve seen you around ... you’re Paige’s friend.”
I smile, licking my suddenly dry lips. “Thank you, and yes ... I know Paige.”
The smile on his handsome face seems to freeze as his gaze follows the tip of my
tongue, the spark of hunger brightening his eyes. Inwardly, I smile because who knew
it was so easy to make men desire me, particularly when I went without attention for so
“My pleasure. Are you,” he coughs, “here with someone else?”
I shake my head and look at him through fluttering eyelashes. “No, I’m here all by
myself.” I pause, touching his arm invitingly, and smile. “Would you like to join me?”
He looks around the coffee shop, probably considering if he should, if it’s proper
to do so, but less than five seconds later, he’s staring at me once again. “Sure.”
Yes, just like that.
The beige walls are spinning.
The clock is ticking.
The bedsprings creak as the moon cries outside the motel window.
And the man above me kisses me while he fingers me, preparing me for him.
Gotta love such a thoughtful man.
“Please,” I beg against his lips, reaching for his hard cock and wrapping my
fingers around it. “I’m ready.”
I feel his mouth leave mine as he begins to make his way down my partially
dressed body. “Are you sure, Blaire? Are you sure you want to do this with me?”
I open my eyes to witness what I think I want him to do. No, what I’m sure I want
him to do. I can’t help the smile I feel playing on my lips as I see him struggling with his
conscience. He asks me if I’m sure when he has already fucked my mouth with his cock
countless number of times, when his fingers have filled every orifice of my body. Should
I laugh? No ... I decide to take pity instead.
“I’m sure, so sure,” I say, letting my arms land like dead weight on the bed, the
cheap fabric rough against my skin.
When I feel the bed dip between my legs, I instinctively open them for him and
watch as he brings a condom package to his mouth. As he rips it open with his teeth, I
admire his perfect full lips that emphasize how masculine he is.
I feel pleased with myself.
So fucking pleased because he wants me.
Mr. Callahan wants me. Me. Can you believe it? Chubby Blaire. Ugly and
I guess I’m not that ugly anymore. My body? What was considered fat as a child
is now called boobs and ass. Guys want it. They want me. They want to touch me, grope
me, feel me ... they want to screw me. And it feels good to be wanted ... so good. It
makes me feel powerful, and like a potent drug spreading inside your bloodstream, I want
I need more.
“Hurry up,” I say, not bothering to be shy or coy about it. I mean, he brought me
here to have sex, right?
As he rolls the rubber on his stiff dick, his eyes wonder over my bare chest, my face,
my spread legs. Shaking his head as if trying to clear his mind, he mutters, “You’re so
beautiful. I want you so much.”
That’s not the first time I have heard those words come out of a man’s mouth.
Josh tells me all the time how beautiful I am, how perfect I am, how much he wants me,
how much he loves me. But he’s my friend with benefits. The words kind of lose their
meaning when it’s the same person saying them to you over and over again.
Those two words are all it takes for him to spread my legs wider with his hands
and finally enter me with his throbbing dick. Pain shoots through my body, and a groan
escapes my mouth when he covers my body with his. I feel his whole length inside me in
one deep thrust.
“Christ, you’re so tight.”
He lifts both my legs, wrapping them around his lean waist and starts to thrust.
Hard. It hurts. But I like the pain. It sobers me.
And that’s when reality comes crashing down on me. It hits me with the speed and
blinding power of a torpedo, making me realize what I’m doing. What I’m giving away
and the man doesn’t even know it.What the hell am I doing?
Proving that you are your mother’s daughter.
Making her proud.
The room is filled with the noises of the man grunting his pleasure and the wet
slapping of our skin; it makes me want to gag. I want to throw up. Maybe it’s the alcohol
Maybe it’s self-disgust.
The initial pain is gone and now I just feel sore. And strange.
His beautiful face lowers, his lips about to connect with mine, and I feel the bile
rise inside my throat. I turn my face to the side, his kiss landing on my cheek. My eyes
watch the way the lights in the bathroom illuminate all its used and dirty ugliness.
continues to pant in my ear, pumping in and out of my body. Before I know what’s
happening, he half-screams and half groans, his body going tense on top of mine.
And just like that it’s over. In less than five minutes I’ve managed to kill a part of
Our breathing evens and he pulls out, moving to stand up. I push myself up on
my elbows to see him inspect his condom. It still glistens. By the time he lifts his eyes,
connecting with mine, I’ve already wrapped my body with the duvet cover.
Confusion, shock, and pleasure reflect in those brown eyes. “I-I didn’t know ... I
...” His hands go to his hair as we stare at each other. “I didn’t know you were a virgin.”
I shrug my shoulder carelessly, causing the duvet to slide down, exposing my bare
breasts to him. His eyes immediately flare with lust. “It doesn’t matter ... I wanted it to be
And that’s the truth.
“But nothing. If it bothers you, then forget it happened. I already did,” I say,
ending the conversation.
This is my body. I will have the last word. Not him. Not anyone. This is my life.
This is my decision.
Without giving myself a chance to doubt my next words, I turn to look at him in
all his naked beauty, the gold wedding ring on his finger catching my attention. “Don’t
worry, Mr. Callahan ... I won’t tell your daughter that you fucked her classmate.”
And with that, I seal my destiny.
I'm a writer, a hopeless romantic, a wanderer, a dreamer, a cynic, and a believer.
And, oh yes...I might be a bit crazy - but who isn't?