Monday, February 18, 2019

BLOG TOUR & REVIEW - MOTION by Penny Reid

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Motion, the first in the all-new Laws of Physics Trilogy from Wall Street Journal and New York Times bestselling author Penny Reid, is available now!

LOP_MOTION
One week.
Home alone.
Girl genius.
Unrepentant slacker.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Mona is a smart girl and had everything figured out a long time ago. She had to. She didn’t have a choice. When your parents are uber-celebrities and you graduate from high school at thirteen, finish college at seventeen, and start your PhD program at eighteen, you don’t have time for distractions outside of your foci. Even fun is scheduled.
Which is why Abram, her brother’s best friend, is such an irritant.
Abram is a talented guy, a supremely gifted musician, and has absolutely nothing figured out, nor does he seem to care. He does what he feels, when he feels, and—in Mona’s opinion—he makes her feel entirely too much.
Laws of Physics is the second trilogy in the Hypothesis series; Laws of Physics parts 1 (MOTION) & 2 (SPACE) end with a cliffhanger.
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Download your copy today!
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/Motion
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2DoH8pv
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2T4ebo9
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2U1pnSv
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AMY'S 4.5 STAR REVIEW


A very strong 4-4.5*
Mona is a quirky character and I adored her and her mannerisms. She's fairly down to Earth, but she's also in her head so much that she sometimes doesn't see things the way other people would, which is perfectly okay. Mona prefers to see things in terms of scientific equations and hypotheses....she doesn't seem to get why people don't do things in this manner.


Mona is pretending to be her identical twin, Lisa, to help her out of a sticky situation. We don't know all the facts behind said situation, but Mona jumps in, feeling it's her duty to help her sister, even though they're not on the best of terms. She returns home to Chicago, where she is under the watchful eye of Abram, who happens to be her brother's best friend. At first, Mona doesn't really like Abram, believing he's somehow wronged her sister, but she begins to see past the facade he puts on and learns more about who he really is. And because she sees the world in scientific terms, she doesn't understand all the "odd" things and feelings she's having towards Abram. Abram seems sweet, even though we really don't get any of his perspective....but maybe that will happen in the next book.


It's noted that this book ends on a "cliffy", but in my opinion, that really wasn't the case, at least not in the typical sense. Yes, the story is left hanging, but not necessarily in a bad way. I'll eagerly await the second book in this trilogy.

Enter the Giveaway:

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Excerpt:

My stomach rumbled, long and loud, and I pressed my hand against it. Grunting into the darkness, I tossed off the covers and stood from Lisa’s bed. Food on my mind, I slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The kitchen was dark, but instead of flipping on a light—which might’ve alerted Abram as to my whereabouts . . . which he probably didn’t care about so long as “Lisa wasn’t doing anything crazy”—I crept on quiet feet to the fridge and opened it. Momentarily dazzled by the bright light within, it took several seconds of squinting and blinking before the scant contents became visible. I frowned. In addition to the pizza box, two suspicious-looking containers of Chinese takeout, and various condiments, I found: shredded cheddar/jack cheese blend, a zucchini, a half a pint of mushrooms, and hot salsa. Opening the hot salsa, I smelled it, and then I dipped my pinkie inside and tasted it while examining the lid. It looked, smelled, and tasted fine. Placing my finds on the island counter, I shut the fridge. The sudden extinguishing of the bright light meant that the kitchen was now pitch black. Shrugging off my lack of sight, I extended my arms and blindly felt my way over to the pantry until my hands connected with the torso of a person. A person. A PERSON! I jumped back on instinct, my leg hitting one of the stools at the island counter and sending it crashing to the ground. My heart in my throat, I screamed, turned, and darted forward, but my feet tangled with the felled stool and I pitched, bracing myself for a gravitational collision with unseen wooden bars and a granite stool top. But then strong arms caught me, deftly spinning and lifting me into the air. Cold dread rushed through my body, tensing every muscle. I couldn’t think. I didn’t think. Instinctively, my legs and fists pumped, fighting against my captor. Rocks in my throat as I readied another scream, a hand covered my mouth just as I belted it out. “Whoa! Calm down. It’s me.” Abram’s voice at my ear soothed, his bulky arm a tight band around my torso, my back to his front, my feet not touching the ground. “Calm down. Shhh. Calm down.” Hot breath teased my hair and neck, and I stilled, relief at discovering it was Abram didn’t quite chase away the viral panic still attached to my hemoglobin, coursing through my veins. I shook. I was shaking. And I was gasping through my nose, greedy for air. Perhaps he heard or felt my strained breathing because his arm loosened, lowering my feet to the ground, and his hand covering my mouth slid away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” “I’m fine,” I said, not sounding convincing. Truth was, I felt like throwing up. “Can you, uh, let me go?” His arms immediately fell away and I stupidly rushed forward, once more crashing into the stool. I heard Abram mutter a curse under his breath just as he caught me again, lifting me off the ground again, and saving me—again—from another gravitational collision. This time he turned us away from the stool and carried me across the room. I didn’t fight him this time. In fact, I relaxed into him. Wired and exhausted, but mostly embarrassed, I allowed myself to be transported without protest. We left the kitchen and I was finally able to see dim outlines of furniture and walls, courtesy of the streetlamp illumination spilling through the windows of the living room. Abram carried me to my mother’s favorite piece of furniture in our house, a gold velvet chaise lounge said to have once belonged to Napoleon’s sister, Pauline Bonaparte. Depositing me on the soft surface, Abram crossed to one of the Tiffany lamps and pulled the chain, bathing the room in soft blue and yellow, colored light filtering through the stained glass. He then returned, knelt in front of me, one hand on my leg, the other cupping my cheek. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” I said, cleared my throat, unable to lift my eyes higher than his black T-shirt, and said again, “Yes.” He blew out a breath, pushing his fingers through my hair. By doing so, he forced my chin up and caught my gaze. That wrinkle of worry appeared between his eyebrows, and his very pretty eyes—which glowed and sparkled like polished amber cabochons—moved between mine. “You really freaked out.” I stiffened, gritting my teeth and yanking my head back, out of his reach. “I didn’t know you were there.” Watching me with watchful watchfulness, he let his hand drop slowly until it rested on my left leg, next to his other hand which covered my right knee. “I said your name—twice—when I walked in.” “I didn’t hear you.” I glanced from his eyes to where his palms were hot on my skin. “And I couldn’t see. I’d just shut the fridge, my eyes hadn’t adjusted.” “Did you think I was a robber?” His left eyebrow lifted as did the side of his mouth, just a hint. Clearly, he was trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, I still felt shaky. And embarrassed. “I- I didn’t think,” I admitted, releasing an unsteady breath. “I wasn’t thinking. Sorry I fell.” “No need to apologize. It wasn’t like you could help it.” “Yeah. Gravity can be such a downer.” He made a light, laughing sound. “What?” “Uh, nothing. Whatever.” No physics jokes! His frown returned, his fingers flexing slightly on my legs. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Reaching for his hands, I removed them from my knees, setting them away. “I’m really fine. I just don’t like—” He glanced at my knees. “Being touched?” “When it’s unexpected.” I crossed my arms. “That makes sense. But your reaction, even after you knew it was me—” He paused and sat back on his heels, as though debating how to continue and finally settling on, “It was a big reaction.” Abram continued to study me with his big, pretty, knowing brown eyes. “Hey, I would never hurt you.” I winced, just a little, my gaze falling to my knees where his hands had been. I wanted to huff a laugh and roll my eyes, maybe say something like, I know, don’t be ridiculous. But the word “Okay,” small and fragile sounding, slipped out instead. I immediately wished it back, because I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know why I’d said it, and I hated not knowing. Get ahold of yourself, Mona. Pull it together. You are fine. Nothing happened. Meanwhile, he continued his examination of me, I felt his stare, assessing my downturned face. “Out of curiosity, and no big deal if you don’t want to say, but did something happen to you this last year?” My back straightened and I sucked in a slow, deep breath before asking calmly, “Like what?” “You’re very . . . different than you were before.” “Because I don’t want you touching me?” I tried to infuse my words with challenge, strength—wanting to shake off any earlier impression of weakness—and mostly succeeded. Peeking at him, I gauged his reaction from behind a hastily built wall of dispassion. But then Abram dropped his chin to his chest, a massive grin lighting his features, and the fragrance of him hit me. My lashes fluttered as though he’d blown dust in my eyes, penetrating my wobbly wall of dispassion and sending it crumbling to the ground. God, he smelled so good, and—unlike visual stimuli—I couldn’t stop whatever cascade of relaxing, soothing, melting awareness smelling his scent set off. Unthinkingly, I leaned forward an inch, chasing and inhaling the smell of him while he cleared his throat, like he was trying not to laugh. Why he was fighting a laugh, I didn’t know, but the apparent genuineness of Abram’s struggle to subdue his grin only served to increase his attractiveness. A moment later, he lifted his eyes and they connected with mine. He’d conceded to a shy smile. It was quite a smile. “Yes,” he said. “Yes?” I parroted dumbly. What were we talking about? And would it be weird if I buried my nose in his neck? “Yes. You not wanting me to touch you means that you are very different now than you were before,” he explained. I appreciated the completeness and thoroughness of his sentence. My cheeks were hot. I pressed my hands against them while I examined him with suspicion. What was he doing to me? “How so?” I asked, hoping to keep him talking so I could hunt down the splintered pieces of my concentration. His eyebrows pulled together as his shy smile became a smirk. “You’re telling me you don’t remember?” “Tell me your version of events,” I demanded, side-stepping a lie and still holding my cheeks. “Uhh . . .” He scratched the back of his neck, peering at me like I both confused and amused him. I was used to confusing people, but not amusing them. My cheeks burned hotter. “Do you even remember?” I pushed, knowing my tone was belligerent. He made a sound like he was choking on a laugh. “Yes. It’s hard to forget waking up to a naked girl in my bed.” Jaw dropping, my eyes grew to their maximum diameter. Naked. Girl. In . . . bed? “Are you serious?” I whispered, my mind darting in all directions, attempting to form a reasonable hypothesis for Lisa’s behavior and coming up completely empty. Suddenly, I couldn’t catch my breath. He shook his head, giving me an astonished once-over. “You honestly don’t remember?” My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to speak, but it was no use. I was too . . . I was too many things. Shocked. Confused. Incredulous. ANGRY. LISA! What had she been thinking? She’d been eighteen! How would she have liked waking up to find a strange, naked, eighteen-year-old boy in her bed? I was beyond shocked. I was horrified. I was electrocuted by the reality of my sister’s brazen-slash-creepy quotient, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything in the same sphere of possibility. I was beginning to believe that if my twin and I were represented by a Venn diagram, our only areas of overlap would be physical. A minor sliver of shared corporal characteristics, and that was absolutely it. “Lisa?” Blinking at Abram, and promptly becoming tangled in his searching gaze, I realized he was still there. And I was still here. And my hands were still pressed against my cheeks as I warred with what I now identified as hot mortification. What else could I do? I shot to my feet and marched out of the living room, dropping my hands and running up the main staircase.
Pre-order the rest of the series today!
Space
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/SpacePR
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2RRny94
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2tfBT5C
Time
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TimePR
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2Sm1Zmu
Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/2WSQbXe
Meet Penny Reid:
Penny Reid is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Winston Brothers, Knitting in the City, Rugby, and Hypothesis series. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.
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Sunday, February 17, 2019

Text Me Baby One More Time ~ Teagan Hunter, blog tour


We are so excited about TEXT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME, a new laugh-out-loud funny romantic comedy from Teagan Hunter. Be sure to grab your copy today!

 

About TEXT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME

I love you, he said. Forever, he said. Turns out, he lied.
When he leaves me high and dry after a cross-country move, I push him out of my life as much as I can, which is hard to do when the guy who broke your heart also happens to be the most famous dude in town.
After a disastrous year, he’s aiming to rehab his reputation, and I just so happen to be aiming for a promotion at the paper.
So, we strike a deal, and it’s a win-win all around.
Besides, what’s the harm in a few dates to charity galas anyway?
He’s arrogant, a total jerk. There’s no way I’ll fall for him…again.
I used to love him. Now I hate him…I think.

Add TEXT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME to your Goodreads TBR!



It hurts my heart to hear this is the final book in this series. I've loved the comic relief these have brought when many books out there all seem to be very heavy on the drama side. When I first read about Shep in a previous story I honestly never thought there was any way I would or could ever warm to this jerk. But as it turns out he ended up being my favorite male character in the series. And Denver; she's such a funny, caring, adorably forgiving character. She's kinda the like the girl you'd strive to be in your real life. After being totally embarrassed and shamed by Shep a few years back, she finds it in her heart to forgive and move on. But not before making him grovel and grow up. 

This was written as a standalone, but I would recommend you read the others first and in order. Only because the re-appearing characters will make more sense on how they drift in and out from time to time. I give it 5 stars and hope the author reconsiders and writes some more lighthearted and humorous books like these.

Get TEXT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME on Amazon!

   

Don't miss the other books in the Texting series!

Let's Get Textual | I Wanna Text You Up | Can't Text This | Text Me Baby One More Time

 

About TEAGAN HUNTER

TEAGAN HUNTER is a Missouri-raised gal, but currently lives in North Carolina with her US Marine husband, where she spends her days begging him for a cat. She survives off coffee, pizza, and sarcasm. When she’s not writing, you can find her binge-watching various TV shows, especially Supernatural and One Tree Hill. She enjoys cold weather, buys more paperbacks than she’ll ever read, and never says no to brownies. For more information, please visit www.teaganhunterwrites.com. Website | Facebook | Reader Group | Twitter | Instagram | Book+Main | Pinterest | Amazon | Goodreads | BookBub

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

It Happens ~ Lani Lynn Vale, Release

      Zee + Annmarie and Tan + Jubilee. Forever. No exceptions. They were to have the picture-perfect life together. Everything was all planned out. Jubilee was to marry Eitan and Ezekiel was to marry Annmarie. That’s how it was always supposed to be from the moment that they met. Textbook, right? Wrong. Eitan and Annmarie die in a freak accident that never should have happened, leaving the two survivors reeling. Sixteen years later, Jubilee and Zee can’t even be in the same room with each other before things begin to deteriorate. Too many memories. Too much pain. Not enough forgiveness. They’re like hellfire and holy water, and neither one of them is willing to admit that they’re wrong. Then one day things change, and all of a sudden, they’re looking at each other like maybe they aren’t each other’s enemies after all.  


AMAZON | AMAZON UK | AMAZON CA |AMAZON AU |

B&N | KOBO | APPLE

     

The story of Zee and Jubilee wasn't easy from the beginning and it continues that way into their adult lives. Both have suffered a double loss at an early age and never really recovered from it.

This book didn't hook me like so many others by the author. For me I feel like the characters were too immature. They just weren't my thing, but that's all on me. I'm giving it three stars and it was given to me as an ARC for an honest review.


   Lani Lynn Vale is a USA Today Bestselling Author of over thirty titles. She is married with three children, two dogs, two cats, a donkey, and a couple (a couple also meaning over twenty) chickens. When she’s not writing, you can find her curled up in her favorite chair reading. Lani is married with three children and lives in the Great State of Texas. Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | BookBub  

Monday, February 11, 2019

Car Crash~T. Gephart, review stop

CAR CRASH by T. Gephart (Collision Series, #2)

Available Now

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AU

Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

   

Synopsis:

Kitty was not only beautiful but also incredibly intelligent—except when it came to relationships. It seemed if a guy was a loser, corrupt, deadbeat or unavailable, she was completely and utterly attracted to him. She definitely had a “type,” and all of them had been one bad decision after another.
Dallas had trouble of his own. Finding women wasn’t a problem—he could charm the pants off almost anyone—but most of those “pantless” women ended up being a few bananas short of a fruit basket. Not always the best candidates for his sex-without-strings philosophy. He was one date away from ending up a 60 Minutes special.
While both of them were at the top of their game professionally—she a high-powered executive assistant, and he one of the best tattooists in the city—their personal lives had become a dumpster fire.
No one in their right mind would have suggested they join forces to help each other wade through the crazy. Surely that was a recipe for disaster? But without reason, logic or even sanity on their side, they decided to do it anyway.
It was a hot mess primed for a head-on collision.

Okay; I'm gunna get directly to the point here. Go buy this book!! And if you don't have book 1, Train Wreck, you best be putting that one in your cart as well! This is by far one of the funniest, cutest, enjoyable books I've read in a while. Dallas and Kitty have always been out for a good time, but now both think they want something "more" so they concoct a plan to assist one another to help understand the other sex. From there it's all fun, laughs, and a whole lotta sexual frustration. This is such a sweet and funny read I can't stress enough how much I want all of you to read it. I give it 5 huge stars!

ADD CAR CRASH TO GOODREADS

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PURCHASE THE PREVIOUS BOOK IN THE SERIES

TRAIN WRECK

Available Now for FREE!

Amazon | Apple Books | Nook | Kobo

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AUTHOR INFORMATION:

 

T Gephart is a USA Today and International bestselling author from Melbourne, Australia.
With an approach to life that is somewhat unconventional, she prefers to fly by the seat of her pants rather than adhere to some rigid roadmap. Her lack of "plan" has resulted in a rather interesting and eclectic resume, which reads more like the fiction she writes than an actual employment history. She'd tell you all about it, but the statute of limitations hasn't expired yet. But all those crazy twists and turns have led her to a career she loves—writing romantic comedy.
When she isn't filling pages with sassy and sexy characters with attitude, she's living her own reality show in the 'burbs of Melbourne with her American husband, two teenage children, and her fur child—Woodley.
She loves adventure, to laugh, travel, and strives to live her life to the fullest.
AUTHOR LINKS:
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Saturday, February 9, 2019

Copper ~ Lilly Atlas, Release

Title: Copper
Series: Hell's Handlers MC
Author: Lilly Atlas
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: February 5, 2019
Enormous, commanding, and hotter than sin, Copper is the only man Shell has ever wanted. Even as a young teen, when it was impossible and taboo to capture the attention of a grown man, she longed for him. For years, Shell clung to the dream of turning eighteen and finally being noticed by the Hell’s Handlers’ rough and gruff president. But the universe had other plans, and she was forced to make a horrible choice. A choice that altered the course of her life forever, sealing her fate and ensuring the dream of being Copper’s ol’ lady would never materialize. 
Sixteen years his junior. Daughter of his MC’s former president. Single mother whose deadbeat sperm donor doesn’t provide an ounce of support. Loved as a younger sister by every man in the club. The list of reasons goes on for Copper to stay away from Shell. Problem is, he’s been hot for her for years. Copper finally gets some relief when she moves out of Tennessee, but once she’s back, all those reasons to keep his distance grow weaker by the day.
Unable to fight against his own judgment any longer, Copper finally claims Shell for his own. But once again the universe steps in, revealing secrets with the power to destroy them both.
Shell will do anything for Copper, even tear out her own heart and confront the most agonizing parts of her past. But will she be too late to save her dream?

Years ago Shell watched her father gunned down just a few feet from where she waited for him in his truck. Copper was the man who doled out vengeance for that act. Copper also lit a fire in Shell's heart that burned stronger every year after. Now Copper's the President of the Hell's Handler's MC and he too feels the heat emanating from Shell. Problem in his mind is she's sixteen years his junior and he promised her dad no member would ever touch his little girl. Too bad Shell has other plans. But those plans come with secrets. Dark, emotional secrets.

Finally. FINALLY!!! We get Copper and Shell's story. I loved these two. And I especially loved how Copper was really Shell, and her daughter's, man all along....it just took him a little longer to figure it out. The love these two had for each other was felt ever since the first book in this series. Then along comes Copper's brother, Rusty. If you don't hate this guy at first meet and greet, you need your head examined. 

This book was great and by far my favorite so far. I give it 5 stars and then some. I was also given a copy of this book for an honest review.

2010
If they caught her, there’d be hell to pay.
Absolute hell.
Michelle didn’t even want to imagine the level Copper’s anger would climb to if he discovered her trailing after him and his men in the dark woods behind the clubhouse well after midnight.
The fury would be epic.
Biblical.
She may be a fifteen-year-old kid, but she wasn’t an idiot. Sneaking out of her home, pedaling her bicycle across town to the clubhouse, and lurking in the shadows until the men emerged was not only dangerous, it was reckless—and probably pointless as well.
She wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing when the guys finally stopped trekking. But she had to be here. Had to find out if the club had really captured the man who murdered her father.
Four sets of heavy-booted feet tromped through the woods, making no effort toward stealth, thankfully. Shell wasn’t exactly mouse-quiet herself, but the noise from the determined group drowned out her leaf-crunching steps.
She shivered despite the down jacket engulfing her body. Mid-January at the base of the Great Smoky Mountains was pretty freakin’ cold. Lucky for her, it hadn’t snowed in the past few weeks.
“Fuck, it’s dark out here. Wouldn’t be able to see my own damn dick. We almost done with this romantic stroll through the woods?” That was Maverick’s voice. Easy to distinguish because ninety percent of the nonsense out of his mouth was laden with snark and sarcasm. As one of the newer patches, he was making a name for himself with his wit and constant inappropriate humor.
“We have a fucking flashlight, you big baby. Suck it up and keep walking.”
Zach. Another new patch.
Clenching her teeth in a fruitless effort to stem the chattering, Shell stole on after the men she considered family. Loved them like family as well. Loved them more than the majority of her flesh and blood relatives, if she was honest.
The further into the woods they ventured, the more confident Shell grew in her guess of their destination. The guys had to be headed to The Box. Thoughts of what that meant sent a different kind of shiver racing down her spine. Growing up in the MC, Shell had heard countless rumors about The Box. How the club kept a giant underground torture chamber filled with hundreds of Handlers’ enemies from years back. How it was about a mile out into the woods behind the clubhouse. How the walls were coated with blood and faded screams echoed through the dungeon. The Honeys loved to gossip and guess precisely what went on down there, and each tale was more gruesome than the last. By the time she was twelve, Shell had heard stories of prisoners having limbs sawed off, eyeballs plucked out, and dicks clamped in a vice. Half of what the club girls said couldn’t be believed. At least that’s what her mother told her when she was nine and asked what a blow job was and why she overheard a Honey using it in reference to her father. Since that day, she’d always tried to take what they told her with a grain of salt. It’s not as though the men actually shared any club business with the women who were little more than whores.
The truth was probably a watered-down version of the legends, even if the Honey bragging about blowing Shell’s father had been telling the truth. Turned out the man had been with nearly all of them at one point or another. Something every fifteen-year-old girl wanted to think about. Regardless, The Box existed and wasn’t a place anyone wanted to find themselves.
After another five minutes of wordless journeying through the woods, the men suddenly came to a dead stop.
Michelle darted behind the nearest thick-trunked tree. She held as still as possible, not even daring to breathe. Too bad her heart was pounding so loud it could be heard a mile away.
Had the guys noticed her? Did they suspect they had a stowaway? Could they hear the rattling of her frozen and terrified bones?
This was by far her stupidest idea ever.
“Bring him out to me,” Copper said.
Shell would recognize that voice anywhere. That Irish brogue belonging to the six-foot-five, tatted biker who starred in every teenage fantasy she’d ever had. His name decorated a diary hidden deep under her bed, scrawled over and over with spritzes of cheap perfume and lipstick kisses. If anyone ever found it, she’d die on the spot, but so far, her secret was safe.
“You sure, brother? Wouldn’t it be easier to do this shit down in The Box?” Rusty asked.
Shell frowned. Younger by ten years, Rusty was Copper’s brother and a huge jerk. There was no other word to describe him. Okay, there were a few others, but despite their extreme sailor-enviable mouths, the guys got on her case every time she swore. Sick of them always nagging about ladies not cussing, she avoided using any kind of foul language in front of them. Kinda like she avoided Rusty at all costs.
“I want him out here. I want him to feel the air, see the stars, smell the clean scent of the forest. He needs to realize everything he’s never going to have the chance to experience again. He needs to feel what I’m taking away from him. I want him to experience one last flicker of hope that we’ll let him live, right before I slit his fucking throat.”
Shell swallowed. Though she couldn’t see his face, she imagined Copper stroking his beard, deep in thought as he plotted someone’s demise. There were stories about that, too. About the lengths Copper would go to protect his club. His men and their families.
But now she had a front-row seat to the horror show.
“You got it,” Zach said. There was some rustling, then silence that seemed to drag on for hours but was probably only minutes. Everything appeared darker, longer, more intense when outside in the hours following midnight.
Finally, footsteps crunched over leaves again, followed by a grunt and a thud. Shell blew out a silent breath and peeked around her tree. Someone had lit a lantern, illuminating a small clearing in the woods. A man knelt on the ground, arms bound behind him with Copper, Maverick, Zach, and Rusty circled around him.
Back to her, she didn’t have a view of Copper’s face, but she sure had a clear line of sight to the man on the ground.
Reaper, they called him. Because of the number of men he’d sent to their graves. Those were rumors Shell believed. She’d seen the dark-eyed man in action. Her insides quivered at the memories, and she sucked in a soundless, trembling breath.
This was why she’d followed the guys into the woods when she should have been home snoozing away in preparation for school in the morning.
Reaper was the man who’d killed her father five years ago.
Earlier that afternoon, she’d been at the clubhouse helping some of the ol’ ladies prepare dinner. Tasked with letting the men know their meal was ready to be devoured, she’d wandered toward Copper’s office only to hear Reaper’s name being tossed around in conjunction with plans to head to The Box in the night.
Her mind and body had frozen until the noises from Copper’s office alerted her to the men mobilizing. Then, she’d scurried back to the door of the kitchen and pretended to emerge just as they did, feigning her ignorance.
Even by the dim glow of the lantern, it was apparent the eyes staring up at Copper held no remorse. No fear. It was as though life, even his own, held no value to him. Almost made her wish the men would keep him alive and in pain a while before ending him. Most might find it sick. Most might wake with nightmares after watching someone die, but Shell had already been down that road. The soulless look in his eyes was the same she’d seen the night he stole her father from her. Memories from that time had stayed so strong, so fresh in her mind even with the passage of time, and Reaper’s brought them right back to the surface.
She’d been with her father that fated night, four years ago, when the madman known as Reaper shot him in cold blood at a gas station.
As long as she lived, Shell would never forget the horror of that night. It was late on a Saturday, and her father was driving Shell and her mother home from a family barbecue at the clubhouse. From the second row of their truck, she’d watched her dad walk out of the quiet gas station market, two coffees in hand. Seconds later, Reaper appeared from the shadows, shot her father from three feet away, then disappeared as fast as he’d materialized. She’d had as clear a view of his pale face that night as she did now.
It all happened so fast, it was over before her brain processed what her eyes had seen. But once it did, her heart broke clear in two, and she screamed so loud she couldn’t speak for days.
Now, finally, more than four years later, justice would be served, MC style. And she didn’t have it in her to find anything wrong with that. Maybe it was how she was raised, or maybe it was just in her blood, but she had always felt safe, loved, and protected knowing the club would do anything and everything to protect and avenge its own.
Copper had been there that night. He’d witnessed her devastation, seen her in the lowest moment of her life. In her lovestruck teenage mind, she’d hoped some of the reason for Copper’s tireless search for Reaper had something to do with him wanting to ease her pain, though, in truth, he’d have done it for anyone associated with the club.
“You’ve been a hard man to find,” Copper said as he stepped closer to his captive.
Reaper snorted. Whoever had taken him prisoner, roughed him up quite a bit. One black eye, a seeping gash on his cheek, ripped shirt, wheezy breathing. His short black hair was caked with blood, matted to his head. Not near enough punishment in Shell’s eyes.
“Been easy to slip under the radar with you idiots looking for me,” Reaper slurred like his tongue was swollen. He smiled, actually smiled, revealing missing teeth.
From the cover of her tree, Shell locked her knees to keep from charging forward and raining a hell of her own down on the smug bastard.
Copper chuckled. “That may be, but we got your ass now. Been waiting on this moment for a long time.” As he spoke, he drew a wicked looking blade from a sheath on his belt.
Shell’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth to muffle a gasp. Maybe she hadn’t been as prepared as she’d thought to watch Copper take a life.
Yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
The rest of the men stood with spread legs, folded arms, and flat expressions as they watched Copper close the distance to Reaper. Pressing the blade against the man’s throat, he said, “This is for my President, his ol' lady, and Shell.” The venom in Copper’s voice had Shell’s eyes widening more than the act of blatant violence she was about to witness. He sounded like a different man. A lethal man completely capable of killing in cold blood. “This is for Shell most of all because an eleven-year-old girl should never have to live with the image of her father being gunned down. Rest in hell, motherfucker.”
Reaper laughed, making Shell flinch. The sound was so maniacal it could have been a psychotic movie villain’s cackle. And the man dared to do it while Copper held a deadly knife to his throat.
Insanity.
“There’s so much you don’t know Prez,” he said as though mocking Copper.
“Details don’t matter. You killed my president, now you die.”
Reaper might be a psychotic killer, but he was freaking brave. Not once did he cower, beg for his life, or break eye-contact with Copper. Just as Copper’s arm muscles flexed with the telltale sign of impending movement, Reaper said, “Too bad I didn’t notice the girl watching me that night. Might have taken her with me. She’da made a good plaything.”
The growl that came from Copper sent chills skittering across all Shell’s nerve endings. He didn’t bother speaking, just drew the blade across Reaper’s throat in one fluid motion.
Easy as slicing through butter.
Blood immediately flowed from the slash followed by a horrendous gurgling sound. This time, Shell couldn’t catch the shocked gasp before it left her mouth. The moment it was out, she held her breath and prayed no one heard. Copper didn’t so much as twitch. Zach watched the life drain from Reaper. Mav bounced his leg as though impatient to get the process over with.
But Rusty, Rusty met her gaze with a cold, sadistic stare. Shell gulped down the disgusting taste of bile that flooded her mouth.
As he glared at her, Rusty’s lips curled into a smile that could only be described as predatory.
The hairs on Shell’s arms stood straight on end. Something about that smile set her on edge because she’d swear it had nothing to do with Reaper’s death and everything to do with her.
Shit. Would he rat her out to Copper? The jerk would probably take great pleasure in that. Now that she’d been busted, she could only wait and see what fate had in store for her.
  
 
Lilly Atlas is a contemporary romance author, proud Navy wife, and mother of two spunky girls. By day she works as a physical therapist for a hospital in Virginia. Lilly is an avid romance reader, and expects her Kindle to beg for mercy every time she downloads a new eBook. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened yet, and she can often be found absorbed in a good book.
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