Tag Archives: Skye Warren

The Castle by Skye Warren

Welcome to my stop for THE CASTLE by Skye Warren.  Skye will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.  You can follow the tour here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2017/03/book-blast-castle-by-skye-warren.html

a Rafflecopter giveaway

GENRE:  Contemporary Romance

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BLURB:

Safe in the ivory tower…

Gabriel Miller swears he’ll keep me safe. Enemies lurk outside, waiting to strike. An army held back by these walls.

Except some animal instinct warns me the danger is much closer. It’s already here. Is Gabriel my protector or my enemy? Is this house a castle or a cage?

There’s nowhere for me to go, no one left for me to trust.

No escape from a past determined to capture its prize.

Excerpt:

A sleek black limo idles in the center of the parking lot, the gleaming black stark against the backdrop of cracked concrete and cigarette-littered gravel. It’s not for me, I tell myself. It can’t be.

It’s probably one of Chastity’s customers.

At eight o’clock in the morning. In the cheapest motel in Tanglewood.

The driver steps out and nods to me in that deferent, discreet way that drivers have. My stomach sinks. He opens the back door and stands beside it, a silent invitation. A tacit command from the man inside.

My feet move me across the pavement, breath trapped. It’s that moment when you’ve slammed your finger in a door, before the pain has registered, when your mind is all too aware of what comes next.

The shadowed interior hides his face, but I know who it is before he speaks.

“Good morning,” comes the low voice of the man who made me come on his desk. The door shuts behind me, enclosing me in the warm darkness.

“What are you doing here?”

A shuffle of papers. The scratch of a pen. As the darkness solidifies, I see him reclined in the back of the limo, focused on a stack of papers in front of him. Working, like I’m a distraction. “I’m your ride.”

He doesn’t even look up. “Excuse me?”

“To Landon Moore’s office. That is where you’re going, I assume.”

My eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”

Finally he looks up, his golden gaze searing me. “Because you’ll do anything to get your house back. It’s the only place you feel safe, isn’t it? The only place you felt loved?”

My stomach clenches. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I don’t think you need me to answer that.”

Because he knows everything that happens in the city. He could have had me followed after I left his office yesterday, but odds are he knew where I was before. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather walk on nails than ride with you.”

I pull the latch to discover that the door is locked. From the inside.

My gaze flies to him. “You’re kidnapping me?”

“Unfortunately,” he says with fake sympathy. “You’ll have to explain to the cops how I abducted you and transported you in comfort to your previously planned destination.”

The car glides forward, as if connected to his very will.

Asshole.

I glare at him, settling into the warm leather. Are these seats heated? Of course they are. I have to admit this is way more comfortable than the city bus, but everything has a cost. And when it comes to Gabriel Miller, the cost is always too high. “Why are you doing this?”

“Does it matter?” he asks, his voice faintly mocking. “As a gentleman your comfort is my highest priority. It’s enough to be of service to you.”

“You’re not a gentleman.”

“Probably right. In that case I’m coming with you to see sweet old Uncle Landon give you the horrible news, to see your face fall as he assures you there’s nothing you can do.”

My throat constricts. “Can’t you find someone else to torture?”

“No one nearly as pretty. Besides, my presence has some advantages.”

“My very own supply of fire and brimstone?”

“People are more inclined to tell the truth when I’m in the room. My reputation for dealing with liars and cheats is somewhat brutal.” He leans forward, his eyes reflecting sunlight. “All of it true, I’m afraid.”

I’m living proof of that, the fallout from my father’s decision to steal. “Be careful or I might think you’re actually being nice to me.”

A short laugh. “Not a chance. It will be my pleasure to see Landon Moore break. And even sweeter to watch you break, too. A show I can’t pass up.”

Purchase Links:
Amazon:  The Castle
BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-castle-skye-warren/1125600505?ean=2940157295981

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance such as the Chicago Underground series. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, two sweet dogs, and one evil cat.

Website – http://skyewarren.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/skye_warren

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/skyewarren

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/skyewarren/

Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/skyewarren

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THE PAWN By Skye Warren

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Welcome to my stop for THE PAWN by Skye Warren.  Skye will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.  You can follow the tour here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2016/11/book-blast-pawn-by-skye-warren.html

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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GENRE: Contemporary Romance

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BLURB:

The price of survival…

Gabriel Miller swept into my life like a storm. He tore down my father with cold retribution, leaving him penniless in a hospital bed. I quit my private all-girl’s college to take care of the only family I have left.

There’s one way to save our house, one thing I have left of value.

My virginity.

A forbidden auction…

Gabriel appears at every turn. He seems to take pleasure in watching me fall. Other times he’s the only kindness in a brutal underworld.

Except he’s playing a deeper game than I know. Every move brings us together, every secret rips us apart. And when the final piece is played, only one of us can be left standing.

THE PAWN is a full-length contemporary novel from New York Times bestselling author Skye Warren about revenge and seduction in the game of love.

Excerpt:

A sense of familiarity fills the space between us even though I know we haven’t met. This man is a stranger, but he looks at me as if he wants to know me. He looks at me as if he already does. There’s an intensity to his eyes when they sweep over my face, as firm and as telling as a touch.

“I need…” A thud against my ribs as I think about all the things I need—a rewind button. One person in the city who doesn’t hate me by name alone. “I need a loan.”

He gives me a slow perusal, from the nervous slide of my tongue along my lips to the high neckline of my dress. I tried to dress professionally—a black cowl-necked sweater and pencil skirt. His strange amber gaze unbuttons my coat, pulls away the expensive cotton, tears off the cotton fabric of my bra and panties. He sees right through me, and I shiver as a ripple of awareness runs over my skin.

I’ve met a million men in my life. Shaken hands. Smiled. I’ve never felt as seen through as I do right now. Never felt like someone has turned me inside out, every dark secret exposed to the harsh light. He sees my weaknesses, and from the cruel set of his mouth, he likes them.

His lids lower. “And what do you have for collateral?”

Nothing except my word. That wouldn’t be worth anything if he knew my name.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of contemporary romance such as the Chicago Underground series. Her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, two sweet dogs, and one evil cat.

SOCIAL MEDIA

– Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/skyewarren

– Twitter  https://twitter.com/skye_warren

– Youtube  https://www.youtube.com/user/SkyeWarrenBooks

– Pinterest  https://www.pinterest.com/skyewarren

– Instagram  https://instagram.com/skyewarrenbooks

Buy Links:

Amazon: The Pawn

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01MCV02X1

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pawn-skye-warren/1124892956;jsessionid=E389EB80B20DC5B63F463C0AF1FB013B.prodny_store01-atgap10?ean=2940156816125

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-pawn/id1166560955?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-pawn-14

 

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Deep by Skye Warren W/Review

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Welcome to my stop for DEEP by Skye Warren.  Skye will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.  You can follow the tour here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2016/03/book-blast-deep-by-skye-warren.html

a Rafflecopter giveaway

MediaKit_BookCover_Deep

GENRE: Contemporary Romance

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BLURB:

Dark. Powerful. Dangerous.
Philip Murphy has all of Chicago under his thumb. Except me.

We met in a perfect storm of violence and lust. He saved me and then disappeared from my life. Now I pretend I never knew that kind of darkness. I focus on midterms and campus parties, as if they can wipe the slate clean.

Then he turns up outside my dorm room–wounded and barely conscious. He’s the head of a criminal empire, a powerful man, but he needs me now. There are traitors in his midst.

I can help him, but I can’t fall for him.

Not again.

Excerpt:

“Come on then. One free punch. I won’t stop you.”

Without meaning to, I moved my body to face him—as if I was really going to do it. As if I was really going to punch him. I wasn’t going to, though…was I? I wasn’t even sure. This felt so topsy-turvy, as if I was in a room full of fun-house mirrors again—or I had never left. I looked like myself but different too. Both scary and afraid.

“I’ll do it,” I threatened, holding up my fist. But I was mostly stalling for time. I didn’t think I could hit him. I wasn’t sure it would even hurt him if I did.

“Go ahead.” He glanced out the window beside me. “We’re almost there. The offer expires in three…two…”

The truth was he deserved worse than a punch for ruining my life. It wasn’t the classes I would miss most or the date with Sloan. It was the chance at a normal life. A chance to have a family. There were strands I’d been braiding my whole life, and he had come along to cut them.

Of course I wasn’t sure I could actually punch him, even if he deserved it. Not without him physically threatening me. Back then, when those men had come for me, I’d fought them. I’d even hit Shelly, pumped up on adrenaline and terror.

If someone was attacking me, I would have fought back. But hitting someone who was just sitting there? Hitting Philip? I couldn’t, no matter how much he deserved it.

“Hit me first,” I told him.

That startled a laugh out of him. “What?”

“Come at me. You start to hit me, then I’ll do it.”

“I’m not going to hit you, kitten.”

“Well, I can’t hit you any other way.”

He sighed. “You know this is ridiculous, right?”

“How is it ridiculous?” To my underwater brain, this made the most sense of anything. “You know you deserve it. And if I were more…you know, bloodthirsty…I would have already done it. This is just…just enabling me.”

One second he was sitting there regarding me with bemusement. The next he launched himself across the seat, his large body moving with surprising grace. I hadn’t taken into account how fast he could move. Of course he’d been strong. He could have overpowered me in a second. But he also moved like a goddamn panther, wrapping his hands around my wrists before I could blink. I didn’t even have time to pull my arm back, much less punch.

Instead he had my hands pressed against the side of the car, his body looming over mine, his hips between mine. His face was only inches away from me, gaze trained on my mouth.

“Like this?” he asked softly.

“Not fair.” My voice was breathless. A spark of heat between my legs reminded me that while my brain might have been mad at him and my heart might have felt conflicted, my body was one hundred percent on his team.

“Oh, I think it was completely fair. You wanted me to come at you. And that’s what I did. So hit me.”

I yanked my wrists, but he held strong. His eyes flared with arousal at watching me struggle. Oh God. I couldn’t deny I felt it too, the clench of delicious surrender. He was holding me down, and I loved it.

“Let go of me.”

“No, kitten. I’m just doing what you asked.” His lips brushed a millimeter from mine. “Enabling you.” The warmth of his breath was the only warning before he kissed me, fever-hot lips pressed against mine, his arms like iron bars around me. I melted into the seat, into the car—and against his body in the places we touched. My hips rocked against his, and he groaned into my mouth.

He lifted his head but left his body around me, an erotic cage. I blinked slowly, disoriented.

Only then did I realize the car had stopped moving.

“One,” he said softly, his eyes almost sympathetic. “Time’s up.”

REVIEW:

Ella met Phillip when she was fifteen, a broken teenage girl.  He helped save her from rapists and kidnappers and then let her go.  Phillip and Ella had always had a connection even though she hadn’t seen him in years.  Then he appears at her college dorm hurt and needing help.  I love the background of the story with Shelly and Luke.  I loved the way the author made Ella who was adopted and felt like she has no one who will keep her forever but made her feel safe with Philip, a kingpin in the Chicago underground.  This is a great story where you see underneath the city into the grimy layers.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance such as Wanderlust and Prisoner. Praised as a “true mistress of dark erotica”, her books have been featured in Jezebel, Buzzfeed, USA Today Happily Ever After, Glamour, and Elle Magazine. She makes her home in Texas with her loving family, four dogs, and one evil cat.

Website: http://www.skyewarren.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/skyewarren

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/skyewarrenbooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/skye_warren

Links for DEEP

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1pVDUzI

iBooks: http://apple.co/24f5Gaw

Nook: http://bit.ly/1WC1FqS

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1PLs0B7

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1R2ZfO2

All Romance: http://bit.ly/1QuSv11

And you can purchase Deep in PRINT…

http://amzn.to/1Y7yexN

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New Release: Pretty When You Cry by Skye Warren

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Book Title: Pretty When You Cry (Stripped, #4)
Author: Skye Warren
Genre: Dark Romance
Release Date: 10/20/2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Goodreads Button with Shadow

Book Blurb

“Dark, perverse, and unbearably erotic, Pretty When You Cry is Skye Warren at her gritty best.”
~ Anna Zaires, USA Today bestselling author of Twist Me

A new dark romance novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Wanderlust and Prisoner…

I came from a place of dirt floors and holy scriptures. They told me the world outside was full of sin, and the first night I escape, I find out it’s true. Ivan saves me, but he does more than that. He takes me. He makes me his own girl.

My conditioning runs too deep. Ivan sees what I am.

That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.

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Author’s Note: Pretty When You Cry is a STANDALONE dark romance novel set in the dark, sexy Stripped series world. Not intended for those uncomfortable with the subject matter or under eighteen.

Books in the Stripped series
½. Tough Love (prequel)  Tough Love: A Dark Mafia Romance Novella (Stripped)
1. Love the Way You Lie   Love the Way You Lie: A Dark Romance Novel (Stripped Book 1)
2. Better When It Hurts  Better When It Hurts: An Erotic Romance Novel (Stripped Book 2)
3. Even Better  Even Better: An Erotic Romance Novella (Stripped Book 3)
4. Pretty When You Cry  Pretty When You Cry: A Dark Romance Novel

excerpt

So far a city looks exactly how I thought it would—gutted buildings and dark alleys.

A den of wickedness.

This morning I woke up on my floor mat in Harmony Hills. Sunlight streamed through the window while dust rose up to meet it. The white walls somehow kept their color despite rough dirt floors.

A desperate trek through the woods and a series of bus rides later, I made it to a city. This city. Tanglewood. It could have been anywhere. They’re all the same, all sinful, all scary—and the only thing that makes this one special is that I ran out of money for bus tickets.

My shoes are made of white canvas, already fraying and black from the grime of the streets. I made these shoes by hand when I turned twelve, and the heel on the left side has never fit quite right. But the bamboo soles lasted for years in the hills. Now they’re cracking against concrete. I can feel every lump in the pavement, every loose rock, every rounded hump as the sidewalk turns to cobblestone and then back again.

That’s not the worst part.

There’s someone following me. Maybe more than one person. I try to listen for the footsteps, but it’s hard to hear over the pounding in my ears, the thud of my heart against my chest. Panic is a tangible force in my head, a gritty quicksand that threatens to pull me down.

I could end up on my knees before this night is over.

But I don’t think I’ll be saying my evening prayers.

Men are standing outside a gate that hangs open on its hinges. They fall silent as I walk close. I tighten my arms where they are folded over my chest and look down. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me. It wasn’t true when I was little, and it’s not true now.

One of them steps in front of me.

My breath catches, and I stop walking. My whole body is trembling by the time I meet his eyes, bloodshot red in a shadowed face. “What’s your name?” he asks in a gravelly voice.

I jerk my head. No.

“Now that’s not very polite, is it?” Another one steps closer, and then I smell him. They couldn’t have showered in the past day or even week.

Cleanliness is a virtue.

Being quiet and obedient and small is a virtue too. “I’m sorry. I just want to—”

I don’t know what comes next. I want to run. I want to hide. I want to pretend the past sixteen years as a disciple of the Harmony Hills never happened. None of that is possible when I’m surrounded by men. I take a step back and bump into another man. Hands close around my arms.

A sound escapes me—fear and protest. It’s more than I would have done this morning, that sound.

I’m turned to face the man behind me. He smiles a broken-toothed smile. “Doesn’t matter what you want, darling.”

My mouth opens, but I can’t scream. I can’t scream because I’ve been taught not to. Because I know no one will come. Because the consequences of crying are worse than what will happen next.

Then the man’s eyes widen in something like fear. It’s a foreign expression on his face. It doesn’t belong. I wouldn’t even believe it except he takes a step back.

My chest squeezes tight. What’s behind me? Who is behind me that could have inspired that kind of fear? The men surrounding me are monsters, but they’re backing off now, stepping away, hands up in surrender. No harm done, that’s what they’re saying without words.

I whirl and almost slip on a loose cobblestone.

The man standing in front of me is completely still. That’s the first thing I notice about him—before I see the fine cut of his black suit or the glint of a silver watch under his cuff. Before I see the expression on his face, devoid of compassion or emotion. Devoid of humanity.

“We didn’t know she worked for you,” one of the men mumbles.

They’re still backing up, forming a circle around us, growing wider. I’m in the middle. I’m the drop, and the men around me form a ripple. Then they fade into the blackness and are gone.

It’s just me and the man in the suit.

He hasn’t spoken. I’m not sure he’s going to. I half expect him to pull out a gun from somewhere underneath that smooth black fabric and shoot me. That’s what happens in the city, isn’t it? That’s what everyone told me about the outside world, how dangerous it is. And even while some part of me had nodded along, had believed them, another part of me had refused.

There had to be beauty outside the white stucco walls. Beauty that wasn’t contained and controlled. Beauty with color. Only apparently I was wrong. I haven’t seen anything beautiful—except him.

He’s beautiful in a strange and sinful way, one that makes me more afraid. Not colorful exactly. His eyes are a gray color I’ve never seen before, both deep and opaque at the same time. The building itself is beautiful too with its wrought iron gate around a large courtyard. The fountain in the center is broken, but that only adds to the mystique.

The marquee sign reads Grand, a flash of neon pink against the black night.

He steps closer, the light from the sign illuminating his face, making him look even more sinister. “What’s your name?”

I couldn’t answer those other men, but I find something inside for him. I find truth. “I’m not allowed to say my name to someone else.”

He studies me for a long moment, taking in my tangled hair and my white dress. “Why not?”

Because God will punish me. “Because I’m running away.”

He nods like this is what he expected. “Do you have money?”

I have twenty dollars left after bus fare. “Enough.”

His lips twist, and I wonder if that’s what a smile looks like on him. It’s terrifying. “No, you don’t,” he says. “The question is, what would you do to earn some?”

Anything.

My voice is just a whisper. “I’m a good girl.”

He laughs, and I see that I was wrong before. That wasn’t a smile. It was a taunt. A challenge. This is a real smile, one with teeth. The sound rolls through me like a coming storm, deep and foreboding.

“I know,” he says gently. “What’s your name?”

“Candace.”

He studies me. “Pretty name.”

His voice is deep with promise and something else I can’t decipher. All I know is he isn’t really talking about my name. And I know it isn’t really a compliment. “Thank you.”

“Now come inside, Candace.”

He turns and walks away before I can answer. I can feel the night closing in on me, the sharks in the water waiting to strike. It’s not really a choice. I think the man knows that. He’s counting on it. Whatever is going to happen inside will be bad, and the only thing worse is what would have happened outside.

I hurry to catch up with him, almost running across the crumbled driveway, under the marquee sign for the Grand, past the broken fountain, desperate for the dubious safety of the man who could hold the darkness at bay. It’s the same thing that kept me in Harmony Hills for so long—fear and twisted gratitude.

Teasers

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Praise

Praise for the Stripped Series:

“It’s gritty, edgy, and sexy, served to you in the well-written, absorbing style that Skye is so talented at delivering. I can’t wait to get my hands on the rest of the Stripped series.” – Shameless Book Club

“A jagged, layered and enthralling adventure that weaves darkness and light with precision and purpose.” – the lusty literate

“It’s dark, mysterious, sexy, and I loved every page of it! There were twists and turns that I never saw coming! I love when an author is able to keep me guessing until the very end of the book.” – Book Fancy Book Blog

“Love The Way You Lie was heartwarming, exhilarating and tantalizing with just the right tinge of darkness.” – Warhawke’s Vault

Note: Pretty When You Cry comes out on Oct 20th. It is set in the Stripped world from previous books, but it is written to stand alone. Here’s the book on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25705284-pretty-when-you-cry

Meet the Author

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance.

Don’t miss a release! Find out about new releases and exclusive giveaways here:

skyewarren.com/newsletter

And like Skye Warren on Facebook here:

facebook.com/skyewarren

Social Media

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Buy the Book

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AMAZON US:  Pretty When You Cry: A Dark Romance Novel

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Giveaway

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Release Day: Even Better (Stripped #3) by Skye Warren

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Release Day Blitz

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Book Title: Even Better
Author: Skye Warren
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: September 22, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

Goodreads Button with Shadow

Book Blurb

A story about how coming together can break us apart…

An old military friend of Blue’s comes to stay with us, and suddenly I have two muscled men surrounding me. Before I can take a breath, we’re diving into something dirty together—something dangerous. Dangerous because three is a crowd.

This is Blue’s best friend, and one of us will have to leave.


EVEN BETTER is a sexy follow up novella best read after BETTER WHEN IT HURTS. Fair warning: Contains two hot ex-military men and a girl caught in the middle.

Books in the Stripped series

½. Tough Love (prequel)

  1. Love the Way You Lie
  2. Better When It Hurts
  3. Even Better
  4. Pretty When You Cry

Praise for Better When It Hurts:

“5 Angsty Love-versus-Hate Stars! Better When It Hurts sucked me in hook, line, and sinker within the first few pages.” – Allison, The Reading Escapade Book Blog

 

“There’s one thing I can say with certainty, Skye Warren never fails to deliver a heartfelt, slightly dark, I can’t stop turning the pages story. This one is no different.” – Di, Twisted Sisters

 

“Very Angsty 5 Star Read! This book is so compelling, you won’t be able to put it down, this is one of those books that you’ll want to save to re-read.” – Melissa, Books Can Take You There

excerpt

I expect West to laugh. They have a competitive camaraderie that is fun to be around. Except he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead his gaze drops to where Blue’s hand is on my ass. For the first time since he showed up, lust flashes across his face.

Nervous, I glance at Blue. He’s watching me, lids low, a dark expression on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I think he likes it. It’s some kind of tease, an extension of their friendly competitiveness, natural and somehow intimate.

So intimate it makes me wonder if they’ve ever done more than tease.

My eyes widen. “Have you and him ever…?”

The corner of Blue’s mouth lifts. “What’s that, beautiful?”

“You know,” I stammer. “Shared a girl.”

The words come out in a rush, and I know from the sultry, smug looks on their faces that I’m right. “Not shared,” Blue says. “Not exactly. But I watched sometimes, sure. We’d get a night off and head to the bar near base. There are, what? Two men for every woman there.Maybe more.”

“Some girls like an audience,” West says, the drawl in his voice more pronounced.

The room feels twenty degrees hotter as testosterone and arousal swirl in the air. I had no idea that Blue was kinky enough to watch a couple have sex—although he’s been plenty kinky in other ways with just me and him. I imagine being some girl in a bar, being picked up by two men as big and strong and sexy as these two. It’s overwhelming…and I realize I may not have to imagine it after all.

Blue watches me from slitted eyes.

My voice is shaking. “Did you want me to—”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, beautiful. We’re just getting to know each other, after all.”

It makes me wonder if he thinks I’ll do more once I know West better. It makes me wonder if I even want to do more. Of course West is a handsome man, but being shared? “Umm.”

Blue shifts in his chair slightly, so my leg is trapped around his, and I’m slightly more exposed—facing West fully. “Maybe we could give him something to see,” he murmurs. “A nice little memory to bring to bed with him. Would he like that?”

West is completely still, lean body full of tension. “Christ, yes.” He pushes back in his chair, his expression more pain than pleasure. “Only if you’re okay, Hannah. Only if…”

“I’m okay,” I say, stronger now. God, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to give a man a show. “I want to.”

Just like Blue and West think all they can do is fight, all I can do is dance. And this isn’t even dancing for strangers. This is dancing for the man I love—and his best friend.

Except dancing isn’t what Blue has in mind.

Teasers

EvenBetter-Teaser1

EvenBetter-Teaser2

Meet the Author

Skye Warren is the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance.

Don’t miss a release! Find out about new releases and exclusive giveaways here:
skyewarren.com/newsletter

And like Skye Warren on Facebook here:
facebook.com/skyewarren

Thank you for reading! <3

Social Media

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Buy the Book

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A story about how coming together can break us apart… New release from Skye Warren!

OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:

Love the Way You Lie: A Dark Romance Novel (Stripped Book 1)

Better When It Hurts: A Dark Romance Novel (Stripped Book 2)

Tough Love: A Dark Mafia Romance Novella (Stripped)

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LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE BY SKYE WARREN (99 cents!)

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Book Title: Love the Way You Lie
Author: Skye Warren
Genre: Dark Romance
Release Date: March 12, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

A dark romance about the lies that lead us down…

I’ll do anything to get safe, even if that means working at the scariest club in town.

I’ll do anything to stay hidden, even if it means taking off my clothes for strangers.

I’ll do anything to be free. Except give him up. When he looks at me, I forget why I can’t have him. He’s beautiful and scarred. His body fits mine, filling the places where I’m hollow, rough where I am soft.

He’s the one man who wants to help, but he has his own agenda. He has questions I can’t answer. What are you afraid of?

You.

Praise

“It’s gritty, edgy, and sexy, served to you in the well-written, absorbing style that Skye is so talented at delivering. I can’t wait to get my hands on the rest of the Stripped series.” – Shameless Book Club

 

“I LOVED it! Instantly compelling and thrillingly unpredictable, Honor and Kip’s story delivers a jagged, layered and enthralling adventure that weaves darkness and light with precision and purpose.” – the lusty literate

 

“Wow! I found Love the Way You Lie to be a dark, edgy and suspenseful romance. It’s also addictive, sexy and downright dirty (in the best possible way)!” – Tina, A Reader’s Review Blog

 

“It’s dark, mysterious, sexy, and I loved every page of it! There were twists and turns that I never saw coming! I love when an author is able to keep me guessing until the very end of the book.” – Book Fancy Book Blog

 

“Love The Way You Lie was heartwarming, exhilarating and tantalizing with just the right tinge of darkness.” – Warhawke’s Vault

excerpt

In the first moments onstage, I’m always blinded.

The bright lights, the smoke. The wall of sound that feels almost tangible, as if it’s trying to keep me out, push me back, protect me from what’s going to happen next. I’m used to the dancing and the catcalls and the reaching, grabbing hands—as much as I can be. But I’m never quite used to this moment, being blinded, feeling small.

I reach for the pole and find it, swinging my body around so the gauzy scrap of fabric flies up, giving the men near the stage a view of my ass. I still can’t quite make anything out. There are dark spots in my vision.

The smile’s not even a lie, not really. It’s a prop, like the four-inch heels and the wings that snap as I drop them to the stage.

Broken.

A few people clap from the back.

Now all that’s left is the thin satin fabric. I grip the pole and head into my routine, wrapping around, sliding off, and starting all over again. I lose myself in the physicality of it, going into the zone as if I were running a marathon. This is the best part, reveling in the burn of my muscles, the slide of the metal pole against my skin and the cold, angry rhythm of the song. It’s not like ballet, but it’s still a routine. Something solid, when very few things in my life are solid.

I finish on the pole and begin to work the stage, moving around so I can collect tips. I can see again, just barely, making out shadowy silhouettes in the chairs.

Not many.

There’s a regular on one side. I recognize him. Charlie. He tosses a five-dollar bill on the stage, and I bend down long and slow to pick it up. He gets a wink and a shimmy for his donation. As I’m straightening, I spot another man on the other side of the stage.

His posture is slouched, one leg kicked out, the other under his chair, but somehow I can tell he isn’t really relaxed. There’s tension in the long lines of his body. There’s power.

And that makes me nervous.

I spin away and shake my shit for the opposite side of the room, even though there’s barely anyone there. It’s only a matter of time before I need to face him again. But I don’t need to look at him. They don’t pay me to look them in the eye.

Still I can’t help but notice his leather boots and padded jacket. Did he ride a motorcycle? It seems like that kind of leather, the tough kind. Meant to withstand weather. Meant to protect the body from impact.

The song’s coming to a close, my routine is coming to an end and I’m glad about that. Something about this guy is throwing me off. Nothing noticeable. My feet and hands and knowing smile still land everywhere they need to. Muscle memory and all that. But I don’t like the way he watches me.

There’s patience in the way he watches me. And patience implies waiting.

It implies planning.

I reach back and unclasp my bra. I use one hand to cover my breasts while I toss the bra to the back of the stage. I pretend to be shy for a few seconds, and suddenly I feel shy too. Like I’m doing more than showing my breasts to strangers. I’m showing him. And as I stand there, hand cupping my breasts, breath coming fast, I feel his patience like a hot flame.

This time I do miss the beat. I let go on the next one, though, and my breasts are free, bared to the smoky air and the hungry eyes. There are a few whistles from around the room. Charlie holds up another five-dollar bill. I sway over to him and cock my hip, letting him shove the bill into my thong, feeling his hot, damp breath against my breast. He gets close but doesn’t touch. That’s Charlie. He tips and follows the rules, the best kind of customer.

I don’t even glance at the other side of the room. If the new guy is holding up a tip, I don’t even care. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who follows rules. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about him or letting him affect me. Maybe my run-in with Blue made me more skittish than I’d realized.

All I have left is my finale on the pole. I can get through this.

This part isn’t as physically strenuous as before. Or as long. All I really need to do is grind up against the pole, front and back, emphasizing my newly naked breasts, pretending to fuck.

That’s what I’m doing when I feel it. Feel him.

I’m a practical girl. I have to be. But there’s a feeling I get, a prickle on the back of my neck, a churning in my gut, a warning bell in my head when I’m near one of them. Near a cop. My eyes scan the back of the room, but all I can see are shadows. Is there a cop waiting to bust someone? A raid about to go down?

My gaze lands on the guy near the stage. Him? He doesn’t look like a cop. He doesn’t feel like a cop. But I don’t trust looks or feelings. All I can trust is the alarm blaring in my head: get out, get out, get out.

I can barely suck in enough air. There’s only smoke and rising panic. Blood races through me, speeding up my movements. A cop. I feel it like some kind of sixth sense.

Maybe he feels my intuition about him, because he leans forward in his seat.

In one heart-stopping moment, my eyes meet his. I can see his face then, drawn from charcoal shadows.

Beautiful, his lips say. All I can hear is the song.

I’m not even on beat anymore, and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because there’s a cop here and I have to get out. Even if my intuition is wrong, it’s better to get out. Safer.

I’ll never be safe.

The last note calls for a curtsy—a sexy, mocking movement I choreographed into my routine. Like the one I’d do at the end of a ballet recital but made vulgar. I barely manage it this time, a rough jerk of my head and shoulders. Then I’m gone, off the stage, running down the hallway. I’m supposed to work the floor next, see who wants a lap dance or another drink, but I can’t do that. I head for the dressing room and throw on a T-shirt and sweatpants. I’ll tell them I feel sick and have to leave early. They won’t be happy and I’ll probably have to pay for it with my tips, but they won’t want me throwing up on the customers either.

I run for the door and almost slam into Blue.

He’s standing in the hallway again. Not slouching this time. There’s a new alertness to his stare. And something else—amusement.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

“I have to… My stomach hurts. I feel sick.” I step close, praying he’ll move aside.

He reaches up to trace my cheek. “Aww, should I call the doctor?” His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

I grip my bag tight to my chest, trying to ignore the threat in his words. And the threat in his grip. I really do feel sick now, but throwing up on him is definitely not going to help the situation. “Please, I need to leave. It’s serious. I’ll make it up later.”

He’ll know what I’m saying. That I’ll make it up to him personally. I’m just desperate enough to promise that. Desperate enough to promise him anything. And he’s harassed me long enough that I know it’s a decent prize. I’m sure he’ll make it extra humiliating, but I’m desperate enough for that too.

“Please let me go.” The words come out pained, my voice thin. It feels a little like my body is collapsing in on itself, steel beams bending together, something crushing me from the outside.

Regret flashes over his face, whether for refusing my offer or forcing me that low. But this time he doesn’t let me go. “There’s a customer asking for you. He wants a dance.”

Teasers

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Meet the Author

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.

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Better When It Hurts by Skye Warren

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Book Title: Better When It Hurts (Stripped, #2)
Author: Skye Warren
Genre: Dark Romance
Release Date: June 4, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

Five years ago we lived in the same house. He was the ultimate bad boy. And my foster brother.

Now he’s back. Tougher, harder, meaner. All of it aimed at me, because I was the one who sent him away. It’s payback time. He wants his pound of flesh, and I am helpless to say no.

excerpt

The door slams open, and Blue strides into the room. A burst of sound follows him in the seconds before the door swings shut. I shrink back against the lockers before I can help it. That doesn’t stop him. It doesn’t even slow him down as he steps right into my space, just inches from my face, still breathing hard.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His eyes are still wild from the fight, violence and victory mixed together.

I try not to flinch. “I wanted to…to talk to you about something.”

“How did you know I was fighting tonight?”

I’m not going to tell on Candy, even if he’ll figure it out as soon as he sees her here. Instead I bite my lip and try to remember the speech I was going to give him. “Congratulations?”

That wasn’t it.

He shakes his head. “No, Lola. This isn’t one of your little games. I’m not one of the men you can lead around by my dick. Not anymore.”

And then I do flinch, because the reminder of our past is too painful not to. “I’m not trying to lead you anywhere,” I whisper.

His lips curve into a cold smile. “No? You brought me here, didn’t you? Just you and me and the rest of the world locked out. You made that happen.”

Something pricks my eyes—tears. No no no. I can’t possibly cry in front of him. I don’t know why I’d cry at all. This is my life. I’m long past wishing for something different, aren’t I? I look down at the concrete floor so he won’t see me struggle.

Of course he doesn’t accept that. His fingers—sweaty and gloveless—lift my chin. “Why’d you come here, Lola?” His voice is suddenly lower and strangely seductive. Maybe that’s how fucked-up I’ve gotten, that cruelty turns me on. “What do you want?”

My fingers fumble as I pull the wallet from my back pocket. It’s still warm from my body as I hold it up. “This is yours. I stole it. I—I took it by accident.”

That wasn’t what I’d meant to say at all. I’d meant to explain the situation like it happened—that I’d woken up with the wallet in my bed. That I had no memory of it, but obviously there had been a mistake. I’d taken nothing from the wallet, no harm no foul.

Instead I’d stuttered like I was thirteen again, stealing everything I could slip into my pockets, confessing to my foster dad before he whipped me with his belt.

Blue takes the wallet from me, his expression speculative. It’s almost as if he’s never seen it before, even though I know it belongs to him. I rifled through his things, touched the stone-faced plastic image on his license. And he knows I invaded his privacy that way, just like I invaded his pocket when he brought me home.

He tosses the wallet onto a bench behind him, dismissing it. His hand lands on the locker beside me, blocking me in. His eyes meet mine. “You still steal.”

“No,” I say, but his wallet calls me a liar. Naturally he’d remember the worst thing about me. I’d helped him remember. “Not anymore. Not usually except…I must have been drunk or something.”

“You didn’t used to drink.”

“A lot’s changed.” I used to hate the taste of beer. It reminded me too much of foster brothers with groping hands and tongues. I still couldn’t touch the stuff, but every now and then I used alcohol to try and numb the pain. It was just a shame it never worked.

His gaze scans my body, unapologetic as it measures me, probes me, demands all my secrets. “I can see that.”

I shrug, pretending to be unaffected. No, I am unaffected, damn it. “You see more than this every night.”

“Less. When you’re naked up there onstage, that’s what you show to every man.” His eyes are hooded. “This is what you wore for me.”

Teasers

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Meet the Author

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romance.

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Better When It Hurts (Stripped Book 2)

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AMAZON: 

Love the Way You Lie (Stripped Book 1)

The Beauty Series

Tough Love (Stripped)

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“LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE” By Skye Warren (Includes Author Interview)

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Book Title: Love the Way You Lie
Author: Skye Warren
Genre: Dark Romance
Release Date: March 12, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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Book Blurb

A dark romance about the lies that lead us down…

I’ll do anything to get safe, even if that means working at the scariest club in town.

I’ll do anything to stay hidden, even if it means taking off my clothes for strangers.

I’ll do anything to be free. Except give him up. When he looks at me, I forget why I can’t have him. He’s beautiful and scarred. His body fits mine, filling the places where I’m hollow, rough where I am soft.

He’s the one man who wants to help, but he has his own agenda. He has questions I can’t answer. What are you afraid of?

You.

excerpt

In the first moments onstage, I’m always blinded.

The bright lights, the smoke. The wall of sound that feels almost tangible, as if it’s trying to keep me out, push me back, protect me from what’s going to happen next. I’m used to the dancing and the catcalls and the reaching, grabbing hands—as much as I can be. But I’m never quite used to this moment, being blinded, feeling small.

I reach for the pole and find it, swinging my body around so the gauzy scrap of fabric flies up, giving the men near the stage a view of my ass. I still can’t quite make anything out. There are dark spots in my vision.

The smile’s not even a lie, not really. It’s a prop, like the four-inch heels and the wings that snap as I drop them to the stage.

Broken.

A few people clap from the back.

Now all that’s left is the thin satin fabric. I grip the pole and head into my routine, wrapping around, sliding off, and starting all over again. I lose myself in the physicality of it, going into the zone as if I were running a marathon. This is the best part, reveling in the burn of my muscles, the slide of the metal pole against my skin and the cold, angry rhythm of the song. It’s not like ballet, but it’s still a routine. Something solid, when very few things in my life are solid.

I finish on the pole and begin to work the stage, moving around so I can collect tips. I can see again, just barely, making out shadowy silhouettes in the chairs.

Not many.

There’s a regular on one side. I recognize him. Charlie. He tosses a five-dollar bill on the stage, and I bend down long and slow to pick it up. He gets a wink and a shimmy for his donation. As I’m straightening, I spot another man on the other side of the stage.

His posture is slouched, one leg kicked out, the other under his chair, but somehow I can tell he isn’t really relaxed. There’s tension in the long lines of his body. There’s power.

And that makes me nervous.

I spin away and shake my shit for the opposite side of the room, even though there’s barely anyone there. It’s only a matter of time before I need to face him again. But I don’t need to look at him. They don’t pay me to look them in the eye.

Still I can’t help but notice his leather boots and padded jacket. Did he ride a motorcycle? It seems like that kind of leather, the tough kind. Meant to withstand weather. Meant to protect the body from impact.

The song’s coming to a close, my routine is coming to an end and I’m glad about that. Something about this guy is throwing me off. Nothing noticeable. My feet and hands and knowing smile still land everywhere they need to. Muscle memory and all that. But I don’t like the way he watches me.

There’s patience in the way he watches me. And patience implies waiting.

It implies planning.

I reach back and unclasp my bra. I use one hand to cover my breasts while I toss the bra to the back of the stage. I pretend to be shy for a few seconds, and suddenly I feel shy too. Like I’m doing more than showing my breasts to strangers. I’m showing him. And as I stand there, hand cupping my breasts, breath coming fast, I feel his patience like a hot flame.

This time I do miss the beat. I let go on the next one, though, and my breasts are free, bared to the smoky air and the hungry eyes. There are a few whistles from around the room. Charlie holds up another five-dollar bill. I sway over to him and cock my hip, letting him shove the bill into my thong, feeling his hot, damp breath against my breast. He gets close but doesn’t touch. That’s Charlie. He tips and follows the rules, the best kind of customer.

I don’t even glance at the other side of the room. If the new guy is holding up a tip, I don’t even care. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who follows rules. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about him or letting him affect me. Maybe my run-in with Blue made me more skittish than I’d realized.

All I have left is my finale on the pole. I can get through this.

This part isn’t as physically strenuous as before. Or as long. All I really need to do is grind up against the pole, front and back, emphasizing my newly naked breasts, pretending to fuck.

That’s what I’m doing when I feel it. Feel him.

I’m a practical girl. I have to be. But there’s a feeling I get, a prickle on the back of my neck, a churning in my gut, a warning bell in my head when I’m near one of them. Near a cop. My eyes scan the back of the room, but all I can see are shadows. Is there a cop waiting to bust someone? A raid about to go down?

My gaze lands on the guy near the stage. Him? He doesn’t look like a cop. He doesn’t feel like a cop. But I don’t trust looks or feelings. All I can trust is the alarm blaring in my head: get out, get out, get out.

I can barely suck in enough air. There’s only smoke and rising panic. Blood races through me, speeding up my movements. A cop. I feel it like some kind of sixth sense.

Maybe he feels my intuition about him, because he leans forward in his seat.

In one heart-stopping moment, my eyes meet his. I can see his face then, drawn from charcoal shadows.

Beautiful, his lips say. All I can hear is the song.

I’m not even on beat anymore, and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because there’s a cop here and I have to get out. Even if my intuition is wrong, it’s better to get out. Safer.

I’ll never be safe.

The last note calls for a curtsy—a sexy, mocking movement I choreographed into my routine. Like the one I’d do at the end of a ballet recital but made vulgar. I barely manage it this time, a rough jerk of my head and shoulders. Then I’m gone, off the stage, running down the hallway. I’m supposed to work the floor next, see who wants a lap dance or another drink, but I can’t do that. I head for the dressing room and throw on a T-shirt and sweatpants. I’ll tell them I feel sick and have to leave early. They won’t be happy and I’ll probably have to pay for it with my tips, but they won’t want me throwing up on the customers either.

I run for the door and almost slam into Blue.

He’s standing in the hallway again. Not slouching this time. There’s a new alertness to his stare. And something else—amusement.

“Going somewhere?” he asks.

“I have to… My stomach hurts. I feel sick.” I step close, praying he’ll move aside.

He reaches up to trace my cheek. “Aww, should I call the doctor?” His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

I grip my bag tight to my chest, trying to ignore the threat in his words. And the threat in his grip. I really do feel sick now, but throwing up on him is definitely not going to help the situation. “Please, I need to leave. It’s serious. I’ll make it up later.”

He’ll know what I’m saying. That I’ll make it up to him personally. I’m just desperate enough to promise that. Desperate enough to promise him anything. And he’s harassed me long enough that I know it’s a decent prize. I’m sure he’ll make it extra humiliating, but I’m desperate enough for that too.

“Please let me go.” The words come out pained, my voice thin. It feels a little like my body is collapsing in on itself, steel beams bending together, something crushing me from the outside.

Regret flashes over his face, whether for refusing my offer or forcing me that low. But this time he doesn’t let me go. “There’s a customer asking for you. He wants a dance.”

Teasers

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Interview

Can you introduce yourself and tell us what kind of books you write?

I’m Skye Warren, the New York Times bestselling author of dark romance! Thank you so much for the opportunity to share my new release, Love the Way You Lie. It explores taboo themes like betrayal and redemption, overlayed with suspense. If you’re up for something dangerous, disturbing and erotic, take a look…

What is Love the Way You Lie About?

Love the Way You Lie has a stripper heroine and a mysterious lone biker who is first her customer, then her lover, then her… well, you’ll have to read to find out. What you should know is that the book is dark, edgy, and sexy as hell.

This is the first book in a new series set in a strip club called The Grand.

Who is your favorite character in the book?

I love my heroes—their gruffness, their pain, their occasional cruelty. But I have a real soft spot for my heroines. So I would have to say I loved Honey the most. She is beaten down but determined, bent but not broken. For me that’s what strength is about.

What is the hardest part of writing for you?

Nothing and everything. I love the actual writing, coming up with a story and falling in love with them. But reader expectation is such a tough thing—it’s tough in any genre but has particular challenges for dark books. Even the word dark means different things to different readers. But ultimately I can only write the books I love and hope that my readers enjoy them.

What do you love about alpha heroes? Or anti-heroes, if that applies?

Why are these anti-heroes so damn appealing? Well, for one thing, they are tough and driven. They don’t take crap from anyone…even the heroine, sometimes. They often do follow their own code of honor, it just doesn’t necessarily match everyone else’s. But I think it’s something more elemental than that. A man who takes what he wants, damn the rules? Well…it’s plain sexy.

What makes a sex scene sexy to you? Or alternately, what do you do to write hot scenes?

I love a scene I can get lost in, both the physical sensations and the emotional resonance. And what I find most sexy is when power comes into play. Not with games, but where one side has the upper hand, the mingling of distrust and desire, of wariness and want.

What else should readers know about Love the Way You Lie?

There’s also a free prequel to the series coming. The best way to stay up to date about my releases is my newsletter here:

http://www.skyewarren.com/newsletter

Meet the Author

Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romantic fiction. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.

Social Media

websitenewsletter signuptwitterFacebookpinterestGoodreadsyou tube

Facebook Group

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Take Me (12 books by hottest names in dark romance!) Giveaway!

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Enter to win a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Surrender to desire with 12 books by the hottest names in dark romance, including bestselling authors Pepper Winters, Anna Zaires, and Lynda Chance.

CD Reiss – Spin

Jenika Snow – A Beautiful Prison

Pepper Winters – Destroyed

Skye Warren – Trust in Me

Kendall Ryan – Unravel Me

Anna Zaires & Dima Zales – Twist Me

Shay Savage – Otherwise Alone & Otherwise Occupied

Amber Lin & Shari Slade – Three Nights with a Rock Star

Pam Godwin – Deliver

Lynda Chance – Marco’s Redemption

Gemma James – Torrent

These e-books would cost over $40 if purchased separately. This set will only be available for a limited time.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Excerpt from Deliver by Pam Godwin

He stalked toward her, mirroring the tilt of her head, knees and shoulders loose, and his gaze
holding her prisoner. A breath away, he paused, soaking in the subtleties of her tipped-up chin,
parting lips, and glossy but resolute eyes.

With the next breath, he launched, hands on her jaw, fingers spread around the back of her
head.

His elbows dropped, shoulders raised, and he yanked her to him, lifting her on tiptoes, guiding
her mouth, taking it. His grip twisted through her hair as he drew in her upper lip and shoved her
against the fridge, following her with the weight of his body.

The kiss went fucking wild, their lips mashing in a frantic battle. His tongue plunged her mouth,
attacking, thrusting in and out, possessing her movements, owning her. Breath for breath, lick
after lick, he ate at her mouth, tasting, devouring.

He dropped his hands to her breasts, squeezing ruthlessly as he rolled his cock against her
cunt.

His tongue tingled, his skin burned, and his head swam. God, she was a drug, and he was so
fucking high.

She gripped his biceps, bit at his lips, and threw her arms over his shoulders, her fingers
scratching the fuck out his back. He shuddered, loving it, but he was in control.

Reaching back, he grabbed her wrists and slammed them above her head. Their bodies ground
together, his forearms pressing hers to the fridge, their tongues dancing and clashing. Chest-to-
chest, hips fused together, he flexed his ass, dry humping her like a horny teenager.

Jesus, fuck, he didn’t care. He wanted her.

He leaned back to study her face and found strong smoldering eyes, sharp breaths, and swollen
wet lips. Whatever she saw in his expression made her mouth chase his and her fingers curl
around his hands. They kissed endlessly, fueling the fire and pushing his control long past the
point of discomfort before pulling back and starting all over again.

When he broke the kiss with a hand on her jaw, they panted as one, mouths open and so close
their bottom lips brushed. She peered at him through lowered lashes, and he stared back in
awe. What trembled between them wasn’t an if? Or even a how hard? Those were foregone.

The question they shared was simple.

Ready?

About the Authors:Please consider following the authors to
find out more about their books…

Pepper
Winters – Website | Facebook
| Twitter | Newsletter
Skye
Warren – Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter
Kendall
Ryan – Website | Facebook | Twitter
Pam
Godwin – Website | Facebook | Twitter
Gemma
James – Website | Facebook | Twitter
Amber
Lin – Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter
Shari
Slade – Website | Facebook | Twitter | Newsletter
Jenika
Snow –Website | Facebook | Twitter
Shay
Savage – Website | Facebook | Twitter
Anna
Zaires – Website | Facebook |
Twitter
Dima
Zales – Website | Facebook | Twitter
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a Rafflecopter giveaway

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