What’s better than a tattooed god? A tattooed god handcuffed to your bed.
On Thursday, my Club Ties novella MARKED AS HIS releases. I’m really excited about this one for a couple reasons.
1. more tattooed bikers
2. the chemistry between these main characters
3. tattooed bikers
4. tattooed bikers
Okay, that’s more than a couple reasons!
If you know my CLUB TIES series, you’ll know books 1 and 2 (Love Ties and Heart Ties) are full-length novels that are gritty and darker with crime and evil deeds involving a motorcycle club called the Hell’s Sons. While I was writing them, the resident tattoo artist kept speaking to me. He urged me to tell his story, but he wasn’t as deeply involved in the club as some of the lifers. He was relatively fresh still. Don’t get me wrong, he’s badass–but a little less jaded than the others.
I also needed to write the next book in the series, but as you know, I’ve been writing a lot of cowboys. I couldn’t devote myself to SOUL TIES quite yet, but the tattoo artist wouldn’t stop screaming at me. Meet Paxton–huge man sporting leather, tattoos and a lot of patience for one fiesty little woman, who happens to be the estranged daughter of a club member.
MARKED AS HIS is shorter, lighter but every bit as dirty-hot as the other Club Ties books. Read on for more…
WARNING: Adult language
“There.” She pointed out her sunny yellow condo. One of the newer buildings in the city, the rent was high but she was paid well at Flick Welding. Mostly for putting up with the men.
And well…keeping her mouth shut about numbers the owner tweaked.
Paxton roared up to the front of her condo and cut the engine. When she got off, she had to force her quaking legs to respond. Paxton sat there, dark sunglasses masking his eyes and his mouth firm.
“Are you coming inside? It might take me a few minutes.” When he didn’t budge, she poured on a little sugar. “I’ve got some sweet tea made.”
That smile teased the corner of his lips again. Damn, had he noticed her staring at his mouth?
Swinging her purse forward, she dug through it for her keys, carefully maneuvering the contents. The gun grip was up—in position. With the house keys in one hand, she rested her other just inside her purse.
The lock clicked and she opened the door into the cool house. The scents of home assuaged her, and what she needed to do had never been so apparent. She must preserve her lifestyle at any cost. Letting Tommy and the cursed Hell’s Sons back into her world wasn’t happening.
She stepped into the foyer, the heels of her high boots clicking on the tile. Paxton came inside, taking up entirely too much space, and closed the door.
With a jerk, she removed the gun and locked both hands around it. A wildness built in her chest as she took aim at the big man.
“Hands up,” she said through clenched teeth.
His features weren’t giving away anything. With his eyes still shaded by glasses, she had little idea if she’d even surprised him.
“I said hands up!”
Slowly he raised them, removing his sunglasses as he did.
He was glaring at her.
Stupid fucker isn’t going to get far with me.
“Do not try anything funny or I’ll shoot you in the balls and leave you to bleed out.”
He arched a long, dark brow but didn’t speak.
“Now walk slow and steady to that door.”
Her condo was small, her bedroom suite right off the big open space.
“Santana, if you wanted me in your bed, all you had to do was ask,” he quipped as he reached the door.
She shoved the gun into his kidney, which would drop him instantly if she pulled the trigger. “Get in there. Face down on the bed.”
His shoulders did a shivering motion, as if he were shrugging. Or was he laughing at her?
Leaping around him, she aimed the gun at the patch over his heart. “Don’t think I won’t shoot. Now. Get. Your. Ass. On. The. Bed.”
ONE-CLICK MARKED AS HIS and read on Thursday!
Thanks for stopping by today!
~hardworking heroes–in bed and out~