Release Blitz: Coletrane By Rie Warren


Coletrane:

Her name is Sinclair Chatham. Sin. That’s exactly what she is—walking, talking, in the flesh sin. She’s haughty, privileged, so goddamn starlet sexy, with an ass I want to grab and spank raw. 
I want her to give herself over to me. I want her to lose that polished princess veneer. I want to strip away the money, the manicures, the maids, the immaculate façade. 

I need her to be mine. But I’m a grunt. A biker. A tattoo artist. I’m blue collar all the way, and her family will probably shit bricks if they ever meet me. 

Not to mention, I’m running from a bad past that’s about to catch up with me. 

Sinclair:

I would never go for Cole in a million years. He’s gruff, rough around the edges—and covered in ink. He’s unapologetic, demanding, and sometimes scary as hell. He tells me what he wants, how he wants it, and why he’s going to ruin me for all other men. 

Coletrane destroys my vanity, gets inside my head while he gets into my bed, and I can’t say no to him. He’s not what I expected—tender at times, taking no prisoners at others. He breaks me down, builds me up. 

He is not my type.

They say opposites attract, and they’re right. I just didn’t expect him to turn my cushy life upside down and inside out. But it’s too late, and someone’s going to get hurt.
It’s no secret that I wasn’t overly in love with the previous two books in this series, but I have enjoyed this author’s books so I decided I was going to go ahead and finish reading the last book in the series.  Let me tell you, within the first few pages I knew that this one was making up for the previous ones that sort of let me down.
Coletrane is fucking HOT!  Like change your panties multiple times, reaching for your significant other for some loving HOT.  What I also loved more than just his sexiness was that deep inside that tough chain wearing, tattooed, bad boy biker, he was emotional, sweet, and in his own emotional pain.  He will surprise you more than once, but let me make something perfectly clear.  Just because he has that sweet emotional side, it does not take away from even one millimeter of his hotness.
Sin is Cole’s perfect match in my opinion.  He needed the sass and feistiness that she brings, but he also needed the way she continues to show him that he is worthy of her even when he has doubts.  I loved Sin’s character, she may have been a rich girl but she didn’t act like she was better than anyone.  For me to love a female character as much as I loved Sin is rare.
We get to see the whole Retribution game throughout the book and I loved a certain surprise party at the end.  I can actually picture everything that happened.  Overall this one was my favorite of the series, it had me smiling, laughing, hot and bothered, emotional and last but not least I didn’t want to put it down.  Rie Warren saved the best for last with Coletrane and I loved every single word.

 

GODDAMN. SIN LOOKED FIIINE. It was a Saturday. I guessed her idea of slumming it was wearing a sarong that bared the length of one of her amazing thighs, a pair of sandals that wrapped up her calves in soft leather, and a strapless top that hugged her fuckhot figure in all the right places. 

And her idea of going ghetto must’ve been trawling down here by the train yards. 

Shock carried across Sin’s face as she took in Trixxie, me, and the aforementioned cock ring. 

“Oh, hon. You worried about a little cock ring? Cole has things up his sleeves you ain’t even—”

“Trixx,” I cut her off midstream.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll zip it.” Swooping into one of the back rooms, she poked her head out for a final zinger. “Call me if you need a fluffer for her.”

Sinclair stood just inside the door, shafts of sunlight making a halo of her hair. “Are you with her?” 

“No. We’re coworkers. I don’t fuck where I earn money.” 

“Then how does she know about your cock rings?” Staring at the silver ring I closed my fingers around, she perfected the hands on hips stance once again. 

“Why? You jealous?” One of my eyebrows hooked up. 

“Hardly.” She flicked back her amazing pure blonde curls and peered at me. “Just seems like something personal.”

“We tattoo and pierce each other, see half-naked bodies all day long. Ain’t much that’s personal around here, precious.” I punched my knuckles down on the counter, the muscles in my shoulders and arms bunching. “Your driver waiting outside?”

“No. I drove myself. I have my own license and everything.” She used that same give it to me, big boy breathy voice she’d taunted me with last night. 

Like she knew exactly what I thought about her—overprivileged, unused to hard times, freewheeling and fancy-free without a care in the world. 

Her soft green eyes widened to complete the look of total ingénue. Too bad her body spoke another story. And I knew she was taking me for a ride with this Little Miss So Innocent façade. 

I stalked to the windows and checked outside. Then my mouth dropped open. I rocked on my heels. I looked some more. 

I groaned. “You’re fucking kidding me.” Pressing my index finger to the window, I think I probably drooled. Like a fool. “Tell me that’s not yours.”

“All. Mine.” Her sultry whisper hit my neck, and damn, that was hot, but not as hot as the car illegally parked outside the shop. 

A kick-ass ’77 Trans Am. 

“Four hundred horsepower in that thing?” I asked.

“Kicks like a mule with the engine of a bull on ’roids.” Sin slid next to me as I goddamn salivated over the muscle car. 

With the pop-out top windows and the massive hood bird decal an authentic red and black Firebird, the car was sex-on-four-wheels. 

“Fuckin’ A.” I almost jizzed in my jeans. I wanted to fuck her in it, on it, see her drive it, and get behind the wheel with her in my lap. Fuck. “I thought you’d drive a Merc.”

“This is my weekend car.” Her fingers traipsed down my arm. “What can I say? I have a thing for hot rods.”

And I just happen to have the one for her. 

It fucking thumped in my jeans. 

Dragging myself away from the imminent girl plus car-gasm, I walked back to the counter and ignored the ancient black bakelight phone ringing at the far end. 

“So, what can I do you for, Sin?”

And how soon can I do you?

“Sadie told me where you work.” 

Of course she did.

I made no comment. 

Sin glided across the floor as I heard Trixxie get on the horn in the room next door, answering the call I’d tuned out. 

“I think I want some ink.” Sin stood right in front of me. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m not sure yet. Can I see some examples?”

We-elll, there were photos all over the walls, but I just so happened to have some living art to show her. 

“Sure.” I whipped off my shirt.

I wasn’t a small boy. I was a badass man. The muscles came from daily workouts. The height—a mere six foot two that put Sin half a foot under me—matched my framework. The tats? They detailed memories, moments, people . . . my life. 

Sin sucked in a breath and her eyes grew wide. She rounded the counter. Her touch on my chest fizzled through my skin, but I stood stock-still. 

I remained silent except for a low grunt when she tugged on one of the nipple barbells. 

“You weren’t kidding about the piercings.” Her warm gust of breath hit my skin, causing havoc to my willpower.

“I might be an asshole sometimes, but I never lie.”

She licked me, right across one of the barbells, right there in the middle of the shop. 

My hand flew into her hair, and I pulled her back. “Unless you wanna get your pussy reamed across the counter right now, you better stand down.”

She moved back so suddenly she almost knocked over one of the boxes on the counter. 

I shuddered all over, lifting half-mast eyes to her. “I’m not about to mar your perfect skin. Tattoos are off the table.” 

She was gorgeous. Untouched. Peaches and cream and obviously protected from the hot South Carolina sun.

And she looked sooo damn good as she was, glaring at me.

“I don’t take no for an answer.” Her leg slid from the slit of her sarong as she cocked her hip and curled her lips. 

“Too bad, precious. Ain’t gonna happen.” I smirked as I approached her. “And I’m more than happy to say no to you.”

“Then I’ll just get your colleague to do it.” Her arrogant chin lifted. 

“The fuck you will. You don’t need another damn thing on you.” I set my lips to her ear. “You’re sexy. A stand-out. A walking wet dream.” I licked those lush lips I’d kissed the night before—just a taste. “There is something I wanna do to you though.”

“What?” she whispered, searching for my lips as I pulled away. 

“I’ll pierce your nipples.” 

Her mermaid eyes flicked to mine then down to my nipples. “Like yours?”

“Oh, no. Although I’m sure you’d like that.” Lifting my hands to my chest, I tugged on the two barbells and twisted them. 

Hot flames of arousal coursed through me. 

Sin moaned through parted lips. 

I’d been hard before, but now my cock suddenly broke new records stiffness. 

My voice dropped, and I skimmed a hand down the clenching ridged muscles of my abdomen. “It can make your nipples ultra sensitive.”

Her gaze drifted lower, following the path of my hand. “I can see that.”

Leaning forward, I whispered against her ear. “For you I’d do hoops. Pretty little ones for what I bet are your pretty little nipples. Hoops I can attach things to, charms . . . ” And weights. And delicate chains . . . 

Oh hell yeah.

Sin licked her bombshell lips. 

I set my teeth lightly on her earlobe then bit down with firmer pressure until she moaned. 

Drawing back, I observed her with a lazy smile. She practically trembled, and it was an insane turn-on seeing her lose her control. 

“Unless you’re too much of a good girl?”

“I’ll let you do it.” Her hair whipped over her shoulder as she met my burning gaze. 

I inhaled harshly, the image of her baring her tits for me, holding still while I pierced her nipples, overwhelmed me with a surge of animal-like lust. 

Not yet though. 

Dragging my shirt back on, I grinned. “You have to earn it first.”

“What?” Her voice rose several octaves. 

“You heard me.” I checked the clock. 

Twenty minutes until my next appointment. Definitely not enough time to do what I wanted to with her. Not here. Not now. 

Sin wouldn’t go down without a fight, of course. That was what made baiting her so damn fun. 

She shoved me on the shoulder when I turned back to my sketch. 

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear, Cole. I’m the Executive Director of The Fairley-Chatham Family Foundation. I manage millions of dollars per annum. I might’ve been privileged”—she stomped her foot—“but I work for what I have, and I’m damn successful. So if you think you can keep treating me like some harebrained flake just because of where I come from—”

“Then act like it, precious.” I cut her off mid-riff. 

Pressing up onto her tiptoes, she got in my face, hissing, “Stop calling me that.”

I glanced behind her, then quickly pushed her away from me. Three rough-looking hoodlums were outside with their hands all over her car. 

“You need to leave now.” I prodded her to the door, going cold all over.

“But I’m not done—”

“You’re done. We are done.” My voice flinty hard, I urged her to hurry up as the gang bangers strutted inside.
I got out and loped around to Sin’s side. I liked the way she waited for me to open the door and help her out—she was a woman who knew she was quality. 

With a flash of those long bare legs, she slid up against me. Her body felt incredible, curves in all the right places the perfect counterpoint to the hard muscles of mine. 

Brushing the hair back from her temples, my fingers lingered at her neck where her pulse drummed against my skin. I leaned down and tasted her lips, quickly delving into her mouth before retreating with a smile. 

“I hope you’re ready for this, precious, because I’m gonna eat you up.”

“Out here?” Her pale green eyes twinkled. 

I pulled her away from the car and guided her up the steps that created an open breezeway in the apartment building. My place was at the top and overlooked a tennis court. 

“You play?” she asked. 

I unlocked my door and ushered her inside. “Hardly.”

Flicking the light switch, the tidy, tiny living room shifted into brightness, and just then a calico fur ball darted into the kitchen with screeching yeowl. 

“What was that?” Sin pointed after the fleeing feline. 

“I dunno. I think it’s a cat.” I rubbed a hand over my chin. “Could be a cross between a porcupine and an overgrown chipmunk? I call it Pincushion.”

As she giggled I waved vaguely around the four-room place. “So this is it. It’s not luxurious but—”

“It’s so clean.” She left my side to walk around the living room, her fingers occasionally coasting along the coffee table and the sound system set-up.

“Right? And I don’t even have a maid.” Lounging against the doorway opposite her, I winked. 

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes.

In just five long steps, I caged her against the wall. “Oh, I don’t think you want me to do that.” 

I twisted her head up and crashed my lips to hers. My tongue lunged into her mouth, stroking hers. Brutal. Hard. Wet. I swallowed the whimper that escaped the back of her throat, and her hands flew to my ass to pull me all the way against her. 

With a grunt, I tore my lips free, licking them to taste more of her. 

A sneer of lust crossed my face, and my voice came out in a low deep rumble. “The things I’m gonna say to you tonight will make you so hot you’ll be begging me to fuck you harder, faster.” I nipped and licked the neck she arched for my tongue and teeth.

“Cole!” she gasped.

“Make your body ache for my cock.” I pressed my hips against her just once so she’d know what she was getting. 

Then I stepped back, watching her as she panted. Her hair disheveled. Her tits jutting. Her eyes heavy. 

“But we gotta talk about how this is gonna go down first,” I said. 

“We do?” She slowly regained her composure. “This about the control thing again?”

“Mm hmm.” I dropped onto the couch and patted the cushion beside me. 

She approached slowly and perched next to me. 

“I want to push you to the limit. Find out what your limits are.”

“Is this about the power struggle,” she asked. “Does that get you off?”

“Not as much as you completely giving yourself over to me would.”

She hissed a sharp breath, her back arching unintentionally.

Damn. She might not like giving away control, but her body sure seemed interested in the idea. 

Her voice a little shaky, she asked, “So is this a BDSM thing?”

I laughed, a long low sound. “Why, precious? Are you into the scene?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. 

“Nothing wrong with that, you know?”

She narrowed her eyes on me. “I didn’t mean to imply that there was. Just—”

“You’re a good girl?”

Biting her lip, she gave a hesitant nod. She had no idea how hot she made me, just that little shot of insecurity in an otherwise totally impressive babe. 

I scooted closer, dragging my fingers up her bare arm to the soft skin of her shoulder. “Wanna be my good girl?”

Again with the hesitant nod. 

Jesus.

I withdrew my hand before I could be tempted to run it all over her smokin’ body. “It’s not a BDSM thing with me. I don’t call it that. Don’t call it anything. It’s just how I like to fuck.”

She made a small noise, and her thighs parted just a little bit. She was so ripe for this, right for me.

My voice lowered. “I don’t want to be your Dom or your Master or your Daddy. It’s not about pain. It’s about letting go. Finding out what gives you pleasure, and sometimes that’s not always orthodox.”

Her breath stuttered in an out as she shifted her gaze to me, her eyes sweeping over my face, my shoulders, my chest. “Do you ever just have sex?”

“Vanilla sex?”

Sin nodded, her cheeks turning a delicious shade of pink.

“I like all kinds of sex. Kinky. Straightforward fucking. Fast. Hard.” I turned toward her and kissed her lips between each subsequent word. “Long.” Kiss. “Slow.” A lingering touch of my tongue on hers. “ . . . anal.”

Her body snapped against mine, and her lips opened, her tongue rolling into my mouth. 

After the soul scorching kiss that set my balls on edge, I eased my lips to her ear. “But if I’m really into a woman—and I’m really into you”—goddamn understatement—“I need to know it’s okay if I fuck you the way I want to.”

I leaned back. “So what do you say, Sin. Are you in?”

“I’m in.”
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series. 
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around. 

You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html

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Release Blitz: Bo By Rie Warren

From the world of Carolina Bad Boys . . . Bo Maverick is ex-Force Recon and a force to be reckoned with.

Bo:

I’m a lover, not a fighter. Yeah, right. Talk about bullshit. I’ve been fighting all my life, and I know zip about love. Frankly, I don’t want to. More than bullets whizzing past my head or the very real possibility of ending up dead, love scares the shit out of me. I’m used to guns and killing, blood and dust. 

Lust.

That’s what I feel for this woman, my goddamn shrink, Veronica. Doctor Hartley digs inside my head. She asks me questions, which I never answer. I’d much rather take the smart, sexy Doc to bed, but I can’t because of our clinical relationship. 

My last Force Recon mission destroyed any semblance of humanity I had left. Those little triggers go off all the time now. When I’m asleep. When I’m awake. When the memories are raw. I bolt up, at knife point again, but there’s no enemy now. 

Just Veronica and me. 

Veronica:

Veronica. Doctor Hartley. I told Bo to call me Ronnie like everyone else, but he refuses. He shows up like he has a cattle prod shoved up his ass and sits through the allotted hour for his counseling session impervious to every approach. He’s powerful, forceful, explosive. He doesn’t scare me. 

My marine doesn’t speak, but his sharp gaze pierces me all the same. He watches me with all the greed of a hunger never sated, a need never fulfilled. A desire never explored. He stows his secrets safely away, but I’m patient. I’ll get to him if he doesn’t get to me first. 

And when I have him? I’ll want him forever. I know this. But I can’t. His past might be complicated, but mine is a minefield, one that will blow up in our faces before all is said and done.

Too bad. We could be so good together.

Warning: Graphic sex, graphic action, graphic language. Triple X caution.
After my disappointment with the previous book, I was wondering if Bo would redeem this series in my eyes or not.  Now don’t get me wrong I liked Kincaid but I didn’t love it so to say I was being careful when I began to read Bo would be an understatement.
I knew that Bo would be suffering from PTSD and that would mold him into who he was so I wasn’t surprised at the emotions I felt for him and for what he had gone through.  I just didn’t know that his book would not only have my heart breaking for him but also renewed my love of this series and author.  I loved Veronica, I loved Bo, I loved the sexual tension and I loved that I was drawn into this book right from the start.  I won’t go into detail so I don’t give any spoilers away but just be prepared to feel so many emotions for Bo, both good and at times bad, but know you will feel period.  
I really want Cole’s book asap because he’s another that I am getting anxious about reading about and knowing.  If you are like me and wasn’t sure about Bo, give it a shot anyways because it made me want to continue on and read more about these men.

Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series. 

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around. 

You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html

 

 

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Release Blitz: Kinkaid By Rie Warren

Kinkaid:

Bonafide pussy magnet. Kinky Kaid I wanna get laid. Yeah, I’ve been called that shit and more. It comes with the territory. See, I’m a male stripper. I shake my moneymaker so I can pay the bills and take care of my people.

I’m also a hardcore, hell-bent biker dude, the newest prospect at Retribution MC. Probie 2.0, and they can never find out how I earn my living. Women love me. They toss their panties at me. They push hundred dollar bills into my G-string. I’m down and dirty and the honeys dig it. All but one.

There’s this girl, Sadie. She’s beautiful and funny and kickass with some major ink. I’d never make a move on her because she’s my best friend.

Sadie:

Best friend? Bullshit. Kinkaid treats me like I’m his kid sister. I’m the hell-raiser, the tomboy dirt biker, his late night call but never like that. He thinks he’s safe from me. I’m going to prove him wrong. I’ll make him see me as a woman one way or the other.

When I find out what Kinkaid’s been hiding there’s hell to pay. Except then he gives me a lap dance. A hot, wicked, panty-melting lap dance. A lap dance that unleashes our intense desire, fresh jealousy, distrust and anger.

Everything changes after that, and not for the better. I love him. I hate him. I can’t lose him. Sometimes I can’t stand him. He’s hot as sin on a sultry lowcountry night, and he’s still my best friend.

I don’t know if he’s man enough to give me what I need.

When I start a book by Rie Warren I am guaranteed a couple of things.  One I will laugh my ass off because she can write some funny scenes.  Two a sexy as sin hero that will leave your panties wet and begging for more.  Three there will be drama, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot but it will be there.  And finally I know when I am done there will be a happily ever after even if it is a bumpy road on the way there.  Now I got all of those things with Kinkaid but I have to sadly admit this isn’t my favorite book by Ms. Warren.  Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoyed it a lot.  I think I was hoping of more of the MC presence than there was. 
Kinkaid is a male stripper, and a damn sexy one.  Trust me when I say you could close your eyes and picture his routine because Ms. Warren explains it is great detail and damn I wanted to be throwing imaginary money his way.  He is also a prospect for the Retribution MC.  There is a reason why he strips, one that will warm your heart and totally see how good of a guy Kinkaid really is.  He is also best friends with Sadie who when she finds out what he does for a living being pissed is an understatement.
Sadie is hurt when she finds out what Kinkaid does to pay the bills, she knows he looks at her like a sister but he has been keeping the secret from her and doesn’t want her like she wants him.  I could understand to a point why she hated his job and was hurt but in my opinion she went to far too many times in my opinion in her voicing her hatred of his stripping.  And that right there was another reason why I didn’t like this one as much as the others.

While I love being able to see the more personal side of the guys in the MC sometimes I want more of the biker life it is a biker series.  Now saying that I am anxious to read about Bo in the next book, I think he may surprise us all with what is underneath his exterior, we know he’s gone through things with in the military but I have a feeling we haven’t seen a fraction of who he really is yet.

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I accepted a stiff drink from Rebel-Mae, the funky punk bartender with the glow-in-the-dark pink fauxhawk, forgetting for a moment I was the Grade-A beef in the joint. No sooner than I took my first sip of Jack, women surrounded me, pressing against me, panting all over me. 

I couldn’t very well leave the clients out in the cold. I slung an arm around one of them and smiled at another, raising my eyes in a help-me expression across the bar toward Rebel-Mae when something familiar snagged my gaze. 

I did a double take. Then a triple look. 

Then my legs almost collapsed out from under me. My heart went sluggish. My body felt cold. My gaze stopped on none other than Sadie my-motherfucking-best-friend Grace. 


Holeeey Shit.

She stared at me with wide unblinking eyes and pink spots on her cheeks. 

Everything got real hot, real fast. I hadn’t been this nekkie in front of my best girl since . . . oh yeah . . . never. I was acutely aware of that fact as Sadie’s eyes coasted painstakingly from the top of my head all the way to my toes like she was taking inventory. 

My heart returned to its normal rhythm then it decided to go one better and jackhammer in my chest. I returned Sadie’s stare with the same scrutiny. No wonder I hadn’t picked her out in the crowd. Sitting about five feet away from me, she looked like a complete stranger . . . a very sexy stranger.

Sadie usually wore paint-splattered coveralls, torn jeans, and baggy T-shirts with her thick hair braided down her back. Tonight her hair hung loose and straight as a sunbeam. It reminded me of the beach at Isle of Palms—a mixture of white gold and sun-spun brown, little sparks of red filtered in. Soft and silky and silty. 

It wasn’t just the hair that blew me away. Sadie had curves all of a sudden. Where the hell had those come from? The killer dress was the same turquoise blue as her eyes and made her irises stand out all the more. The dress? Oh man, it was silk or something, cinched at her waist with a straight skirt that didn’t go low enough on her thighs as far as I was concerned. And the top? That was no better. The neckline needed to be a lot higher, turtleneck high, come to think of it. As it was, the damn thing hugged what looked like perfectly round tits, a suspicion supported by the fact a tight V of tawny cleavage was very, very visible.

Finally—dear Lord—her long willowy legs ended in inappropriately strappy, high heels. Not her standard, sexy Fox Racing Moto-X boots. This was not the regulation Sadie uniform I was used to. Her outfit definitely affected the blood pounding through my body—loudly in my ears and coursing lower at an alarming rate to my cock. My cock that was barely covered in black mesh. Yeah, it was about to bulk up.

Sadie only glanced away from me when one of her group tapped her on the shoulder. The chicks giggled and whispered, and my worst fears were soon confirmed. It was a bachelorette party. Yep, one of the babes wore a veil and a white sash that read: Bridezilla! Tall glasses littered the table, and out of each one popped every bride-to-be’s favorite party favor: a plastic penis straw. The women were well lubricated, well on their way to Happyville with a trip to Hangover City in the morning. 

Sadie didn’t look happy. Not one bit. 

I’d thought her discovering my dirty little secret was the worst of it. 

I was proven wrong in the next instant when Sadie’s crazed posse pointed at me, chanting, “LAP DANCE! LAP DANCE! LAP DANCE!”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

But no. It got a million times worse when Bride-fucking-zilla (that shit was no joke apparently) got up, drunk-swayed over to me, and pushed me at Sadie. 

“With her!” Bridezilla shouted as I stumbled in Sadie’s direction. 

“WHAT?” I caught myself moments before I face-dived between Sadie’s legs, rocked backward, and then quickly moved clear to the other side of the table. Where my ass was immediately pinched. 

Bridezilla looked expectantly at me then Sadie.

“What?” Sadie echoed my question.

“Well, you two can’t keep your eyes off each other,” said the blonde wifey-to-be. “Might as well get your hands in on the action too.”

This can’t be happening . . . 

Jesus fucking Christ.

Yahoo! said my cock. 

That thing needed a choke on it.

Older brother/best friend? I felt none of those things all of a sudden, especially when Sadie looked in my direction and slowly wet her lips. 

Maybe shock and horror wasn’t quite what she was feeling after all. 

I was definitely hot-faced, and no way did I want to give my best friend—my hottie hot best friend—a freakin’ lap dance. Unfortunately the rules were the rules. 

“Gotta go change first,” I mumbled.

Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series. 

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around. 

You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html


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Release Blitz: Hunter By Rie Warren

From the world of Carolina Bad Boys! Hunter Sexton is too hot to handle..
Hunter:
My call-sign is GHOST. My roadname, too. I keep my head down, stay off the grid, fly under the radar. I’m the rough, gruff, good guy who does bad things for pay. 
JB is my most recent mistake. The MC babe is innocence wrapped up in a rockin’ body. Don’t get me wrong, she has a wicked side, too. She’s kickass in bed, when we make it that far. But she’s the ultimate wholesome good girl, and I don’t want to dirty her up. 
Hey, no one said life was all fun and games, right?
JB:
Good girl? I prefer to think of myself as a rebellious hellion. I live my life like I ride my bike: carefree, in your face, and full throttle. My soft side? Well, that’s reserved for my job. 
I’m not looking for love, and I certainly don’t need any relationship complications. Too bad complicated is the only way Hunter comes. 
He’s a quiet, deadly storm. He prowls. He hunts me. He wants me. He’s sexy, sinful . . . secretive. Hunter will turn my life inside out no thanks to his dangerous past about to come back and bite us both in the ass. 
Who’s gonna save us now?
Warning: Graphic sex, graphic action, graphic language. Triple X caution.
What can I say about Hunter? Let me first say that while this is a spin off series from the Carolina Bad Boys series and can be read as a standalone I am going to highly encourage, okay I am to bully you damn it, into read the other series first.  Why you may ask?  Well I guess me saying just do it damn it won’t work so I will explain.  Not only because I love the other series as well but because you are introduced to Hunter as well as some other characters in those books, things that may not necessarily be must known to read Hunter, but will help you understand connections and histories a little more.  Does that make sense?  Yes?
Okay good so back to what can I say about Hunter?  It is funny, sexy, has bikers and a school teacher, it has drama, it has suspense, it has bikers people and sexy as hell ones at that.  It has undercover agents, it has alpha males, it has sexy, tattooed let me lick you all over panty wetting bikers!  Did you get the emphasis on my love for the bikers yet? 
Hunter and JB has a connection almost from the second they meet, one that continues to grow both emotionally and sexually.  Hunter needs to concentrate on more than his feelings for JB but that gets harder and harder to do.  I loved Hunter.  I love how he is protective of those he loves and has a huge heart, as well as sides you wouldn’t have expected from the little we knew about him before reading his book.  JB is smart, sassy, and sexy.  She is the perfect match for Hunter in all ways.

I am anxiously awaiting for more from Rie Warren, I have loved everything I have read from her so far and while I do want more from her Carolina Bad Boy series, I want to read more of the Bad Boys of Retribution MC series as well.  Hell I just want more okay? More bad boys, more of these sexy as hell alpha male bikers who are dirty talkers and can get your panties wet almost instantly.


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Stalking to her, I kept my gaze locked on hers. “Enough sightseeing.” I returned the photo to its place.
“Something else you want to see?” Wide innocent eyes the color of a night sky delved into mine.
“Yeah. You. Naked.” On my bed.
I lead her upstairs without another word spoken. In my bedroom, I switched on a small light because I was not about to waste this opportunity. Our lips crashed together, and hers were warm and pliable, her tongue motherfucking acrobatic as it danced and dived around mine. For a moment, we tasted each other outside of our mouths, lips held open, tongues touching, and it was so hot I broke away with a groan.
“I need . . .”
“What do you need, baby?” JB’s voice had lowered to a dirty gritty lusty tone.
My cock lay at an awkward angle inside the constricting jeans. I popped open the top buttons, worked my hand inside, and straightened myself. The wet engorged tip kissed my stomach, stretching beyond the waist of my jeans. “Needed some breathing room.”
“Show me.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“If your cock’s so hard because of me you can’t fit in your jeans anymore, I deserve to see what I’m getting.”
Far be it for me to argue. I drew my shirt off and tossed it aside.
My cock needed no coercion making an appearance. Another couple inches pulsed out of the opening, splitting the denim wide.
“Good lord,” JB gasped. “You’ve got girth.”
My shoulders shook with a laugh. “Girth?”
“Holy shit, yeah. You’re . . . um”—she pulled her top lip through her teeth, leaving it shiny and still lipstick red—“thick as my wrist. See?”
She lined up her hand with my shaft butting out of the jeans. My thighs tensed at the touch of her skin against mine. I glanced down then slammed my eyes shut. She wasn’t wrong.
“Oh my God.” Her hands flew to my chest, and I looked at her through half-slit eyes.
Her touch ignited the fire racing to my nads. “What?”
“Chest hair, too. Sexy.” She tweaked my flat brown nipples and I shuddered hard.
I was a man, yeah I had chest hair, a black smattering across my pecs that formed a straight line down my abs and beyond.
She seemed to approve, rubbing her cheek against the light pelt then attaching her hot moist mouth to my skin, on the move to my stomach.
“Not so fast.” I pulled her up. “Fair’s fair. Top off.”
Crossing both arms at the hem, she winked before pulling the longsleeve up and off. Encased in a sheer black bra, her tits bounced, and her nipples were dark, coin-sized, pebbled. As I’d imagined, hoped, fantasized, she had tiny dots of freckles on her shoulders and across the high, full, creamy mounds.
Pulling her to my chest, I looked down her back. Those tempting butterfly tats increased in size the lower they were inked on her spine until the largest—bright blue, violet, and black—decorated her skin just above the dimples of her ass.
Finding what I was looking for, I snapped open the clasp of her bra. I hooked one strap then the other off her shoulders. When I pushed JB a step back, the bra fell to floor.
I ran my hands from the flair of her hips to the indent of her waist, over her ribs and up to her breasts. Cupping the twin mounds of so-soft flesh, I watched her plum-colored  nipples peek between my fingers.
“Gorgeous.” I bent, kissing one nub with a lingering suck then the other. I crouched even farther, trailing the tip of my tongue from her belly button and up through her deep cleavage. “Freckles,” I moaned. “I love your freckles.”
I tongued all the little dots I could find, palming her generous tits, scraping my thumbs across her nipples.
She raked her fingers through my hair before tugging on it. “My turn to see more.”
I stared at her breasts, frowning. “For a small woman, you sure are bossy.”
JB cupped her tits, pinching her nipples. “Small?” 

“You’ve got a beautiful cock, Hunter.”
Oh dear God!
“Gonna suck it so good now.”
She slid her lips up one side of my shaft then the other. I watched, out of my head horny.
When her saliva mixed with my precome, she smacked her lips against the engorged purple head. She sucked on me, just to the rim and back.
“Is this what you wanted?” JB looked up with big innocent eyes. “Want to feel dirty with me?”
I held her face between my hands and drove up into her mouth.
After that first touch, I let her blow me how she wanted. My toes curled. My back bowed. I pulled the bottom sheet clear off the bed and struggled to hold back.
She came up for a breather with a smile, holding my cock in her hand. She stroked me, looking at the bulge of veins that stood in relief when she squeezed tighter.
“Can’t get you all the way inside, but maybe you’ll like this.” She flipped her hair forward and wrapped the silky strands around the base of my cock.
She went back to sucking and kissing my tip, stroking my length with her hair. The thought of the smell of my cock on her hair pulled a loud shout from me.
My balls drew up, turned hard, and almost traveled inside my body, my release was so imminent. But Jessica released me, blowing a hot soft stream of breath along my shaft.
“Fuck,” I growled. “Please. Need to come.”
She skimmed her teeth along the helmet of my head, and gently bit down.
My head knocked back.
“My big tough man likes that?” She bit me again. “You like it a little rough?”
The pain was just enough to heighten my senses, the soft lips afterward mind-blowingly intense. “God, Jessica . . . what you do to me should be illegal.” 

An hour later, I slid onto my motorcycle. Helmet in hand, I ramped the Deus Grievous Angel to life.
JB materialized next to me, huddling inside her padded leather jacket. “Sorry about before. Rayce has issues.”
“And where’s your bodyguard now?”
“I don’t need one.” She unfolded her arms, and her jacket gaped open at her chest. She took my helmet from my hands and slung it onto the handlebar.
“Beg to differ.” She definitely needed protection from me.
JB made the first move, I’d testify to that shit in court. She leaned over me and licked her lips. Then my hands were in her hair, burrowing deeper, and I dragged her to my mouth. She straddled me when I lifted her onto my lap. The moist touch of her tongue parted my lips.
I groaned, opening up to her talented lunges, following the sleek kisses into her mouth where our tongues collided. I wanted to thrust down her throat with my cock. Rip her pants apart and fuck her until she screamed. Take her on my motorcycle and spray my come all over her body. The intensity of my reaction steered all coherent thought from my head.
The soul-searing kiss lit me up inside. I wanted more.
Bad move. One of my worst. I’d regret it later. Right now I’d savor the way JB moaned, riding my thigh, getting off on me.
I wanted to have this for one more minute.
I wanted her.
I couldn’t have her. I shouldn’t stain her. My soul wasn’t even intact.
With a growl, I pushed her off me. I steadied her with a hand on her hip as she found her footing.
“What’s yourproblem?” JB frowned, her lips swollen from my kisses.
“I can’t. Not with you. Not like this.” I wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Damn right you can’t. I’m too good for you.” She zipped her jacket all the way to the chin.
Nothing hotter than a woman with an attitude who knew what she wanted, but I couldn’t take advantage.
“Exactly.” I throttled my raging black bike, shouting over the roar of pipes, “We agree. Never gonna happen.”
Peeling out of the parking lot, I glanced back one last time. Big mistake. JB stood under the halo of a streetlight with one stiff middle finger raised in my direction. And I wanted her even more.
Not gonna happen.
Only one good thing had come out of my life, and I had nothing left to give. 

Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series. 
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around. 
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html


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