Friday, December 5, 2014

Ripped by Katy Evans Excerpt



Rage bubbles up inside me full force.
“Now?” Melanie keeps asking me.
I. Loathe. Him.
“Now?” she asks again.
I loathe him. He’s the only boy I’ve ever kissed. He took kisses that meant everything to me and turned them into a joke of a fucking song. A song that turns me into some sort of Eve, torturing and teasing him to sin. He is the sin. He is the penitence, the hell, and the devil, all in one.
I reach into my bag, nicely tucked under my poncho, and grab the first thing I find.
“Now,” I whisper.
Before Mackenna knows what hit him, Melanie and I have sent three tomatoes and a couple of eggs flying through the air.
The orchestra music isn’t enough to drown out his muttered “fuck,” audible through the microphone.
His jaw clamps and he yanks the mic down over his chin as he jerks his eyes around to find the source of the attack. I feel delirious when I see the genuine anger on his face. I squeal, “The rest!” and grab the remaining things we brought and just keep throwing. Not only at him, but at anyone who tries to get in the way—like the stupid dancers who rush to protect him. One of them makes a whimpering noise as an egg hits her face, and Mackenna jerks her back by the arm so he can take the hits himself, his furious eyes trying to find us in the crowd.
Then I hear Melanie shout, “Hey! LET GO, asshole!”
My arms are yanked behind me, and I’m suddenly shoved and pulled out of my place and down the aisle.
“Let go of us!” Melanie cries, struggling as two burly guards drag us away. “If you don’t let go of me right now, my boyfriend’s going to find your home and kill you in your sleep!”
The guard yanks me back harder, and I catch my breath as pain rushes up my arm.
“Asshole,” I hiss, but I don’t even bother to struggle. Melanie’s getting nowhere and I know it.
“She knows them! She knows the band! Who do you think he was singing about just now, asshole?” Melanie kicks into the air. “She’s Pandora! Let us fucking go.”
“You know Mr. Jones?” one guard asks me.
“Mr. Jones!” I scoff. “Seriously! If Mackenna’s a mister, I’m a unicorn!”
They seem to chuckle among themselves as they lead us past more security, around the stage, and to a small room in the back. One guy starts speaking into a radio as he unlocks the door.
Melanie struggles and tries to kick out, but the enormity of what could happen starts settling on me, and I grow quiet.
Holy. Shit. What have I done?
“You don’t have to look so happy, dickface. My boyfriend will find your home too and kill you next!” she tells the other guard.
They yank a door open and shove us inside. I stumble as I take a step, fighting for some dignity as I wiggle free of his grip. “Let go,” I grit, and he finally releases me.
The radio transmitter on his hip emits a sound. A voice says something I can’t make out, but it sounds a lot like cursing.
“Remove these,” one of the guards commands, pointing at our ponchos.
I pry the plastic off my body and Melanie does the same, then we watch helplessly as they strip us of the bags we’d hidden underneath the ponchos.
Melanie groans when they set our things on a table to the side. Cell phones. Two more tomatoes. Car keys.
“Wow. You guys can’t take a little joke now, can you?” Melanie asks them with a haughty little scowl.
I close my eyes and try to quell the panic rising in me.
Fuuuuck. What was I thinking?
I haven’t done anything this reckless in years.
And it felt good.
Also wrong. Very, very wrong.
But good. Great, in fact.
Hell, I can still picture the pissed, disbelieving look on Mackenna’s face. It gave me intense pleasure. Orgasmic pleasure. But now the intense feeling I’m experiencing is more along the lines of paralyzing fear.
What if the guards call him into the room to ask if he does, indeed, know me?
What if I have to stand here in this small stuffy room and look at him from thisclose!
I feel sick to my stomach. Later, Melanie’s going to want explanations. Big-time explanations; more than what I’ve told her so far. She’s going to have to tell Greyson what happened, and he’s going to want to know everything, because these stupid security guards messed with his girl. I don’t even know if I can explain to her the kind of past Mackenna and I share. January 22: the day I unfailingly get drunk and don’t bother to even see the light of day—I’d sworn to myself I’d never discuss that day. But Melanie and Greyson? They will want me to open my box of secrets. Of me and Mackenna Jones.
Hot, wet mouths melding . . .
Him, pushing into me, stretching me, taking me, loving me . . .
Promises.
Lies.
Loss.
Hatred.
The kind of hatred that’s only born of an intense, out-of-this-world love that went woefully wrong.
What am I going to say to him if I see him?
What am I going to do?
Please god, don’t punish me by making me look at him thisclose.
I pace and pray, pace and pray while Melanie studies her nails, the wall, and me, sighing with the bored confidence of someone who knows she’s getting out of here intact. If I see Mackenna, I really doubt it'll be so easy. My stomach’s already in knots, and I’m having the most awful urge to vomit right now.
The concert seems to last forever. One of the guards comes and goes while the other opts to stand a few feet behind Melanie, standing all military-like, as if waiting for something.
Oh god, please let that something not be Mackenna.
I’m wearing off a layer of my boots’ soles when, a century later, the door swings open and a chubby man in a suit and tie steps in. My blood pools in my feet from my nervousness. Lionel Palmer, the band manager, also known as “Leo.” I saw his face and interview in this morning’s paper, but I have to say he looked much happier in that picture.
He glares at us—Melanie glaring back, me standing motionless—and his hands make meaty fists at his sides.
“Have you any idea what you just did?” he grits out, chubby cheeks blazing red. “How long we could keep you two cozy in a fucking lady prison? What kind of fucking fans are you?”
“We’re not fans,” Melanie says.
The door swings open and the twins, in all their male glory, join the melee. They look intimidating all the time, but now—with their blond hair, odd-color eyes, and perfectly pissed-off scowls—they’re a force to be reckoned with.
I can’t breathe.
“Who the fuck are these bitches?” the one with the snake tattoo demands.
“I’m getting to that, Jax,” Lionel says.
So the other one must be Lexington. He charges forward and looks at me, eyebrow piercing and all, then he looks at Melanie. He points his index finger, swinging it from her to me. “I hope you two have a lot of money, because one of our dancers is injured. If she’s screwed up for Madison Square Garden—”
“Don’t worry, Pandora, Greyson will take care of this,” Melanie says easily.
“Pandora,” Lionel repeats suddenly. He grows still, his eyes sliding back to me. “Your friend called you Pandora. Why?”
“Because it’s my name? Duh.”
I’m in the middle of rolling my eyes when the door swings open and a figure fills the space. I don’t think my heart is beating anymore. I feel like someone is strangling me and punching me on the inside.
Mackenna.
A few feet away.
In the same room as me.
Bigger and manlier than ever.
He kicks the door shut behind him. He’s wearing aviators, so I can’t see his eyes, and ohmigod, I hate him with a passion. I came here to hurt him, but I’m so overcome by my anger, I can’t seem to do anything but stand here with my breath getting trapped in my lungs, my heart squeezing in my chest, my body trembling as all my suppressed anger bubbles up inside me.
He is tall and dark, and the remains of a red gooey liquid trickle down his chest.
But what a perfect chest, with its thin trail of hair that leads the way from his navel to his dick. Tight leather pants mold to his bulging thighs. A bulging cock too. I swear girls might think he sticks a loaf of bread down his pants, but I can assure you that fucker is real. As huge as his fucking ego, and I remember it used to get as hard as his fucking head.
Not everyone can pull off a buzz cut, or a diamond stud earring, but he has a perfectly shaped head that makes you want to curl your hands around it and trace the curves with your lips. The diamond glints almost menacingly in his right ear, and when he takes off the sunglasses with an angry jerk, I see his brilliant, furious silver eyes, and I swear that it feels like coming home.
To a home that was wrecked, and burned, and there’s nothing left, but it’s still your home.
How fucked up is that?
God, please let him not be real. Let this be a nightmare. Let him be on the other corner of the world while I hate him safely from my corner in Seattle.
“She’s fucking Pandora?” Lionel asks Mackenna.
When Mackenna’s hard jaw only tightens, Lionel turns slowly around to study me. My brain is a tangle of confusion because Mackenna is staring straight at me like he can’t believe I’m standing here.
I can barely take his steely gaze. I thought this night would give me closure. That I could make him feel in front of his fans like I felt when he left: humiliated. Instead he stands there, every inch the rock god, even with tomato puree on his chest. He owns the room, carrying that unnamable X factor that nobody can pinpoint but that he has in spades, that tells you he owns this room and everyone in it.
And that fact only serves to piss me off further.
“Lionel,” he says in a low, warning tone.
Just one word makes Lionel ease back. Now nothing stops Mackenna from staring straight at me.
My face burns as I remember how I loved him. Deep, hard, completely.
Don’t think about that. You hate him now!
“Nice hair.” He shoves his glasses into the belt loops of his pants.
His voice, oh god.
His eyes run down the length of my hair, and Melanie offers, “I suggested she add a little spirit to her hair, so at least she looks happy.”
He doesn’t even look at Melanie. He looks at me in the most intense way, specifically the pink strand in my hair, waiting for me to answer. I loathe that pink strand, but not as much as I loathe him.
“Nice tights,” I return, and gesture to his leather pants. “How’d you get into them? From the top of a building and with a pound of butter?”
I refuse to let his chuckle move me, but I feel it run down my legs as he starts approaching. “No need to use butter anymore. These pants are a part of me.” He holds my gaze helplessly trapped. “Like you were a part of me once.”
He’s coming closer, and every step affects me. My cheeks burn. The gall of him to remind me. I’m so angry. Years of hurt simmer in me. Of loneliness and betrayal.
Fuck you, Mackenna.”
“Already done, Pandora.”






PRE-ORDER AVAILABLE
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/11X9CAG

RELEASE DATE: December 9th



Blurb
A ripped rock star with attitude. An ex-girlfriend with a reckless plan.

Pandora assumed getting her heartbroken by her bad boy ex could only happen once--until Mackenna Jones comes back to town for the biggest concert of his career. They say girls are getting pregnant just thinking about the Crack Bikini tour and it's destined to be a huge hit.

Oh, it'll be a hit alright--when Pandora comes out swinging. She and her friend Melanie are determined to humiliate him onstage. But when they're caught by security and her ex is summoned, Mackenna decides not to press charges if she'll join him on tour and follow certain conditions--rules designed to give him the upper hand and keep her in close contact with him once again. Soon, the passion they once shared is reignited, and no matter how much Pandora wants to hate him, her hard exterior starts to crack.  

And worse: Mackenna knows it, too. But he hasn't uncovered all her secrets...




Series Reading Order

Real (bk 1)

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zT7J31

Mine (bk 2)

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zmq1cT

Remy (bk 3)

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ynVnBv

Rogue (bk 4)

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1wvpqI6

Ripped (bk 5) 12/9

Barnes & Noble:  http://bit.ly/11X9CAG

About the Author:


Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!

Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com



THANK YOU!









A Sorta Fairytale by Emily McKee ~ COVER REVEAL ~

 COVER REVEAL

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A SORTA FAIRYTALE
Author: Emily McKee
Standalone Novel
Genre: Erotic | Contemporary Romance
~ SYNOPSIS ~
I have my own sorta fairytale. 

Only thing is that it’s with two people. 

Thomas Braxton and Alex McNeil. They know I’m not with them completely. They know I have another. Everything else is pointless… useless. 

From the moment I met Thomas and Alex I’ve thought if only I could blend them together? Thomas’s sexual endeavors. Alex’s sensitivity and passion for life. Then I would have the perfect person. 

But perfect is overrated. 

It doesn’t exist. 

Plus, it’s not at all interesting. 

And my relationships with Thomas and Alex? 

Well that’s a story for the ages…


~ RELEASE DATE ~
JANUARY 6, 2015



~ EXCERPT ~
★★ Warning: ADULT CONTENT 

Pulling something from a drawer, you turn around. “Oh, I know you do, but I’m talking about this,” you say waving something back and forth in your hand.

“A blindfold?”

You grin. “Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” you counter. I don’t say anything else as you walk over to me. “Can I?”

I’m curious, so I say, “Sure.”

You laugh as you place the blindfold over my eyes. “Don’t act so excited about it.”

“I’m excited,” I say. “But I’m a little on edge.”

“You’ll like it. Trust me.” Placing a finger to my chest you gently push me back. “Lie down, Stella, and enjoy it.”

I can’t believe how nervous I am. I know it’s you. I know you’re the one fucking me, but not having my eyesight right now keeps me on edge. Makes me wonder what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it. I don’t know where you are, so I listen and I smell. I listen to your feet as they walk across the hardwood floor. The smells of sex take over my whole body. Your sweat. My arousal.

“What are you thinking?”

I try to control my breathing and beating heart. I wonder if you can see how nervous I am. Probably. But I know it’s just you. “I don’t know.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” I answer honestly.

“Why? It’s just me.” The second the words leave your mouth, a finger trails up my thigh, and I jump. “Whoa.” You chuckle. “Easy, Stella. Remember. It’s. Just. Me.”

Letting out a deep breath, I laugh. “Okay.”

“Now, Stella. I want you to spread your legs apart.”

I listen. I don’t say anything, just try to let all of my other senses take over. The bed dips, and I feel you crawling up the bed and resting in between my legs. Your lips leave little kisses up the insides of my thighs. They cause goose bumps, my nipples to tighten, and my body to tremble. Times ten. The darkness. I like it, a lot more than I thought I would. We’ve never done this before, and I’m surprised it’s taken this long for us to do it.

Your arms move under my legs, pulling me closer to you.

“Whoa.” I giggle, surprised when you don’t say anything. I lift my head, forgetting I have on a blindfold, then feeling stupid when I realize I can’t see you. “Thomas?”

“Sssh,” you whisper.

Sucking in a deep breath, I release and rest my head against the mattress once more. Even though I’m blindfolded I close my eyes and keep them that way. Torturously, your fingers touch right above where I need you, trailing along. My hips jump, and you laugh. “Thomas?” I whisper, but again there’s no answer. Just a long, wet lick from you and a moan from me.

I think you’re going to give me time to get used to it, but you don’t. Instead, you grab my hips and pull me down to you, keeping a firm grasp on me. “Oh my god,” I start to say, but it comes out as a loud moan when you suck my nub into your mouth and push a finger, then two, into me. My walls tighten. My belly flutters. My chest rises and falls. The feelings I was experiencing before the blindfold quickly wash over me again. Gripping the bed sheets, I scream your name as you begin to push me over the edge. “Oh my god!” My back arches, my hips push up further into your face, needing even more pleasure.

“That’s right, baby. Come for me.”

My body stiffens. Your voice. It’s not where it should be, and I know I still shouldn’t be feeling a mouth on me when I hear you say that, but I can’t push away. I’m too far on the edge. Quickly, my body relaxes. “Oh my god,” I moan louder.

“That’s right, Stella. Come for me baby. Show me.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, now grinding against the mouth of someone else—someone I don’t even know.

The bed dips by my head and familiar fingers run through my hair. You breathe into the crook of my neck. “Come for me, baby.” Once more the bed dips, and I feel your legs on either side of my face. “Suck me,” you moan. Velvet hardness pushes against my mouth. This time I know it’s you. Cold metal pushes against my chin. A Prince Albert. I was surprised when I first saw it. I would’ve never thought you would have a cock piercing, but it’s so exciting and dangerous. Pushing your cock into the crook of my lips, you moan, “Suck on me, Stella.”

The stranger continues to fuck my sex. Just that alone is too much to handle, but then I have you. You want me to fuck your cock with my mouth. All of this. It’s dangerous and enticing. Licking my lips, I take you into my mouth. I have a firm grip on your ass, keeping you where I need you. Where you want to be.

“Oh, fuck,” you say. I keep in rhythm with the stranger. When the stranger sucks hard, so do I. When the stranger slowly moves fingers in and out of me, I slowly move my mouth back and forth against your cock.

“Oh, fuck,” you say again. “That’s right, baby. You keep fucking my cock with that beautiful little mouth of yours.” Keeping a firm grip on your ass with one hand, the other maneuvers its way in between my mouth and your cock. I grab and give a hard squeeze. Swiftly, you bend over and grip my hair in your hands. “Relax your mouth, Stella. I’m going to fuck it now.”

I release my hold on your ass and grip the bed sheets. It’s like you and the stranger have one mind. You fuck my mouth with wild abandon while the stranger sucks on my sex.

“Smack me when you’re going to come, Stella,” you demand. With that, the stranger goes wild, pulls my hips up further, dips another finger into my opening and sucks my nub harder. My eyes stay closed, but then I feel the blindfold rip off. “Open your eyes. I need to see you when I come in you.” Tears run down my face when I open my eyes. “Fuck, Stella. I’m going to come so fucking hard.”

Pushing my legs further apart, the stranger dips a finger into my other hole. My eyes start to close when you grip my hair. “Keep them opened,” you grit through clenched teeth. I listen, but it’s so damn hard. This feels so fucking good. “I’m going to tell you to come, Stella. You hear me? And when I tell you, you better come all over the place.” I nod. I can’t speak with your cock fucking my mouth. Ramming your cock in and out a few more times you groan, “Come, baby.” And with those two words, I do. My body shakes and unwinds as I feel hot spurts of cum spill into my mouth. “Holy fuck,” you growl.

I smack at you. Wanting, needing to push you off of me. You listen and slowly slide your cock out of my mouth.

“Holy shit!” I scream. The stranger continues to ram fingers in and out of me, sucking hard on my nub. “Fucking shit!” My body shakes uncontrollably. “F-f-fuck.” The stranger continues to keep a mouth on me but begins to slow down. I place a hand over my head as I try to control my breathing. Then before I know it a laugh escapes from my throat and I can’t stop.

“That good?” the other voice asks, and I gasp.

I feel like a little kid playing hide and go seek. You know you’ve been caught in the closet, but you keep your eyes closed. If they can’t see you, then they haven’t found you.

“What?” You laugh. “You’re not going to say anything after I gave you that fucking amazing orgasm?”

I breathe in and out a few times before my orgasm is completely over. Dropping my arm to my side, I sit up. My eyes are still closed. I just need a few more seconds to prepare for the face I’m about to see when I open them. Slowly, I open my eyes and see who is staring back at me with a wicked grin. “Hey, Stella.”

Taking in a deep breath, I mutter, “Hi, Alex.”


~ ABOUT THE AUTHOR ~
Emily McKee

For the past 21 years, I have been a planner and an organizer. I always needed things a specific way and then everything changed for me. I've always had a vivid imagination and thoughts racing through my mind. I realized that life is way too short to let things pass me by, because in the blink of an eye everything could change. So I decided to just live in the moment, taking every chance and opportunity led my way. No second thoughts and just going with the flow. 

I decided to put the fictional characters and the conversations going on in my head to paper. I know, it makes me sound crazy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I've embraced crazy and hectic and last minute because it's led me to making my dreams a reality.

When I'm not writing Happily Ever After's I'm reading about them and living one. I think this world is filled with too much sadness already we don't need to read about it as well. I write because I love it and I've allowed my imagination to run wild and be crazy and free. Just like me. ❤

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