How is a person supposed to come to terms with these facts?
Fact 1: My parents aren’t upstanding citizens (kind of learned that one at an early age) Fact 2: The same two people who gave me life are the same people I, not too long ago, watched slice up two of my high school peers. (Great! Serial killers on top of idiotic thieves.)
Oh, and that’s just the starter. What comes next makes those things seem like child’s play or having a cotton candy treat at a damn fair.
Destiny? Fate? I’d like to give those bitches a swift kick in the teeth. Kincaid Peterson has his work cut out for him if I’m the one he wants to spend his time with.
As the only vampire child ever born, some believed Elisa Sullivan had all the luck. But the magic that helped bring her into the world left her with a dark secret. Shifter Connor Keene, the only son of North American Central Pack Apex Gabriel Keene, is the only one she trusts with it. But she’s a vampire and the daughter of a Master and a Sentinel, and he’s prince of the Pack and its future king.
When the assassination of an ambassador brings old feuds to the fore again, Elisa and Connor must choose between love and family, between honor and obligation, before Chicago disappears forever.
The fun doesn’t stop here. Want more chances to win? You can also enter the Wild Hunger Grand Prize Giveaway, which runs August 6 through August 17 on Chloe’s web site.
Lipstick kisses and caviar dreams don’t have a place in my life or his.
~ Max (Rebecca Robbins)
I’m a bad ass bitch. It’s a truth of mine. I live it and breathe that shit. No, I’m not conceited or full of myself. It’s just something I’ve discovered over the years.
I’m damn good by myself, always have been, always will. What I didn’t know is I can be improved upon.
Enter the equally bad ass and hella charismatic Deckard Camden. Who, the hell, told him to be this jaw-droppingly gorgeous, mountain of a man, in comparison to my little self, projecting a wall of defense that rivals my own?
Nobody prepared me for the sensual words that would fall from his lips or the massive … peace he would bring to my life.
Damn sure didn’t get me ready to be Deckard Camden’s wife … wait what?
I’m a bad ass bitch! This isn’t one of those moments where I’m encouraging myself or attempting to infuse my soul with courage. The statement is fact. There’s no question about it. Most know me as Max. They wanted me to have a masculine name because I tend to steer clear of the frilly and pretty.
I’m a tattoo artist who doesn’t allow bullshitters in her shop. You’re fucked if you come around just to take in the eye candy. If you’re occupying space then you’re a fucking customer. Otherwise get the hell out of my shop. Inked to the Max isn’t a coffee shop, library, or any of those other cop-a-squat places.
I am a boss bad ass. It is who I am and what I exude. Living in Atlanta, Georgia. No, that’s a lie. I work in Atlanta. I live in Mableton. Parents live in Brookhaven. Grew up within the city limits and moved on to “greener pastures.”
When the shop was doing well enough for me to snub my parents, I got out of the house as quickly as possible. Their expectation was for me to do something with my nursing degree. I chose to use a different type of needle to become painfully employed. I could always fall back on the degree if times get hard with the shop. Not likely because I enjoy tattooing and piercing a little more than the average artist.
Yes, it is my bread and butter but taking an idea or thought and making it art is a magical thing. Taking that art and putting it on skin makes my nipples hard, I get so excited. Every tear of joy shed because the ink is something more than the “canvas” or client expected pretty much gets me off, since no one else is right now. I may need to rectify that crap soon.
“Now strip. I won’t tell you twice. I need to f*ck and I need to do it now. If necessary, I will rip a hole in those skintight pants of yours and pin you to the nearest wall to get what I want. If you value those clothes, get to removing them. You have until I get my dick out of these briefs to decide.”
“Wouldn’t I? Or maybe you’re right about that being a bit prudish. Don’t be so quick to judge.” Before she can offer up a rebuttal, Marc pulls her chair out. He quickly leads her to the dance floor she hadn’t previously noticed and leads her in a dance before whispering in her ear. “As a butterfly takes flight and dances while bathing in the brightest sun does my heart beat in time with the rhythm of its wings when you are near.” Clearing his throat, Marc steps closer to her ear. “Just so you don’t think I’ve lost my touch. I prefer this one: I will strip you bare, bend you over that table, take you in every way that I please before making you plead for mercy.” He turns to gaze into her chocolate brown eyes before speaking again. “Now, which one of those gets you