Of course I have to start by saying “thank you” to the amazing ladies of Vampires, Werewolves and Fairies, Oh My! for letting me grab your attention for a little while. I’m thrilled to have the chance to share what’s been going on for me and my fantastic partner Angel Payne since we released No Prince Charming in May. Right now, it’s the not so glamorous life of an author—sitting in the airport on yet another weather delay. Flying through Denver is proving to be a tricky feat this summer. This is the second time in a week I’ve found myself in this very situation. When did the mile high city become so fickle?
Let’s focus on something more positive while I sit here. How about Killian and Claire, my two favorites from No Prince Charming? Or how about I let you in on a little secret, and you can tell your friends you heard it here first? Angel and I are working on something special from Margaux in the form of a bonus scene. We’re not sure exactly how we will release it just yet, but it should do some explaining as to what happened in the hallway between Kill and Margaux on the day of the wedding, after Claire walked away. And I’m also certain it will be free content and it will be awesome, so what’s better than that? That reminds me, we’re still searching for a physical model inspiration for Margaux Asher, so if you have an idea, feel free to message me on Facebook with your thoughts. I’d love to hear from you anytime.
So hopefully summer is off to a bang for everyone. The kids are out of school, vacations are to be had, and there is reading to be done. Angel is hard at work on the next installment in her W.I.L.D. Boys series, Hot For His Hostage. Tait’s younger brother Shay will have his moment in the spotlight and I’m sure it’s going to be intense, sexy and steamy, because that’s what Angel writes best.
Here is an excerpt to tempt your taste buds. Look for the book’s release in August.
“Hi, gorgeous. You wanna play lions? ’Cause I’m ready to chase your meat."
Shay Bommer stared as the little redhead in skintight jeans wobbled on her five-inch heels and finished the line with a playful roar. He expected herfriends, a group of ten women at a table in the corner of the LA International Airport bar, to applaud her drunken effort. Clearly, they’d concocted a crazy version of “double-dare-you” to pass the time, and she’d drawn the wrong straw.
The moment provided yet more proof for a theory Shay researched in nauseating detail lately.
People did strange fucking things in airport bars.
A hand snaked around his waist from behind. It possessed blue-black nails, accompanied by a sultrier voice than the redhead’s, now murmuring in his ear. “I have a better game. I wanna play war. You lay on the ground and I’ll blow you up, baby.”
Six months undercover with one of the world’s most notorious criminals, and the worst bullets he dodged these days were lines like that.
Remember what you’re doing this for. Remember who you’re doing this for.
He swung a polite smile at the redhead then swiveled to peer at her friend, an equally petite woman with a deeper tint to her mahogany pixie cut, showing off ears with four piercings apiece. “Ladies, I’m flattered but—”
“Ohhh, noooo,” flirt number one protested. “We don’t like the sound of that ‘but.’”
“Not to be confused with the butt we do like.” Her friend slid the goth fingernails beneath his ass, squeezing him through the fabric of his tailored dress trousers. For the fifteenth time tonight, he missed his regular camouflage “work attire” worse than Skipper, the beagle who’d been like another brother to he and Tait through boyhood.
“You’re so gorgeous.” The first woman pushed his knees apart and stepped in for a feel from the other side, sliding a hand over the fabric covering his cock. “Oooo, gawd. And hard. You don’t just look like Superman, do you? You feel like him—”
“Everywhere,” her friend filled in. scooting her grip deeper, finding his balls with her eager fingers.
“Mmmmm. He’s not Superman, Brynn. He’s Ironman.”
Shay stiffened. Ironman. How the hell had the woman blurted his battalion radio call-sign? Had Cameron Stock, the evil prick he’d been hanging out with for half a year, directed the woman to act shitfaced in order to drop the name and see how he’d react?
Or are you simply freaking out like a little girl now, Bommer? For fuck sake, her fingers are all over the junkyard between your thighs—and the size of your “pipe” isn’t exactly a state secret. You may have earned the nickname by setting timed run records in PT, but your cock isn’t a bad ally for the cause.
He rolled his eyes at the smartass in his head as the woman leaned and nuzzled his neck. When her margarita-heavy breath hit him, a fast answer came to his dilemma. Her hit on the name had really just been stupid coincidence, though he rarely believed in that kind of cosmic shit. He couldn’t afford to.
Brynn sidled closer and fit the apex of her thighs against the same part of his anatomy. “Come on, stud. What about it? Ellie likes to share, and so do I. Two redheads, grounded by fog in the same airport as you, with a room waiting for us over at the Hilton…”
“And at least one of us isn’t wearing panties.” More margarita breath fanned his face.
Brynn giggled and rolled her hips. “Make that both of us. Horny, pantie-free dancers from a hot Vegas show. Find a blue moon somewhere in that muck outside and you’ve been handed a once-in-a-million memory, honey.”
Part of him screamed to simply agree with her. That same part filled his imagination with a very nice fantasy. Both women knelt before him, servicing his cock in all the ways any heterosexual male dreamed. He’d find a way to nipple clamp them both, reciprocating their naughty behavior by turning their breasts into reddened, delectable sights as they licked his erection, preparing him to fuck them both…
Thoughts he didn’t dare indulge for another second. Not now.
He pushed off the barstool and faked an awkward laugh. “I’m certain you’re completely right, ladies.” He stalled for time by rubbing the back of his neck. “But regrettably, I can’t. I’m here on business. My colleague should be here any minute.”
The reply was a string of lies. Where the fuck was Wyst? The guy was thirty minutes late, not a development Shay was resigned to take with the normal calm that had earned him a fast place in Cameron Stock’s inner sanctum. But tonight, everything was different. Within the hour, they’d solidify the plans that would make this burglary happen—and finally bring the CIA close enough to put Stock away for good.
Shay had been working closely with the spooks to make this shit go down as seamlessly as possible. His personal investment in taking out Stock was intense and twofold. Last year, Stock helped engineer a scheme that nearly drenched the US West Coast beneath a nuclear fallout cloud, a plan thwarted in an operation by his brother Tait’s Special Forces team—though the price had been devastating. Tait’s ladylove, Luna Lawrence, had died as a result of the standoff’s violence. The trauma had turned Tait’s heart into a husk and his liver into a distillery. And watching that shit happen? Shay grimaced from the gruesome memories. The term “emotional waterboarding” fit the bill pretty nicely.
But exacting revenge on behalf of Tait was only the first motive at hand. Shay never lost sight of the second goal for this escapade, possessing even deeper roots. He was on this mission to find a specific cog in the machinery that had supported Stock’s rise to criminal glory.
A cog he’d once known as Mom
Then you all can expect the second book in the Secrets of Stone series, No More Masquerade, in the beginning of October. (check out the blurb for book one "No Prince Charming" below)
Angel Payne will be appearing at the Midwestern Book Lovers Unite Conference in Minneapolis on September 26-28, 2014. Together we will be at Authors in the OC 2014 on October 4, 2014 in Anaheim, CA.
Again, thank you so much for letting us stop by. We really hope everyone has a safe and relaxing summer break. We’ll be busy writing so the winter months don’t seem too long and lonely for everyone until we can all get together and visit again. Enjoy!
Damn good line. Too bad I don’t believe a word of it anymore.
My name is Claire Montgomery...and I’m not a princess. I’m a fighter. I worked hard to earn my place on the emergency image repair team for one of the biggest public relations companies in the country. We’ve been called to the renowned Chicago headquarters of Stone Global Corporation, where it’s our job to clean up a heap of the Stone family’s filthiest laundry. Our success will be the biggest victory of my career. I’m on my game. I’m ready.
Why doesn’t “ready” include a contingency plan for Killian Stone?
My name is Killian Stone...and they call me the “Enigma of Magnificent Mile." That’s just the way I like it. Elite tycoons want into my bank account. Their wives and daughters want into my pants. They’ll all do anything for a piece of the enigma—until a crack in the castle is too huge for anyone to ignore. What they all don’t know is that I’m thrilled about the fissure. Their fascination with the scandal means nobody will look at the bigger secret of the Stone family. I’m safe.
Until Claire Montgomery walks through my doors.
Her honesty, her bravery, her humor…they pull me in, a prism against the gray walls of my tower. I’m captivated. For the very first time, I long to shed the enigma. To share my secret. But what the hell will that get me? Even if she fits the slipper I offer…I’m no Prince Charming.
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