BOOK (LOST CREEK MC BOOK 1)

 

★¸.•´¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*★ COMING 18 APRIL 2020 ★¸.•´¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*★

TWISTED STEEL MC anthology from Knox Publishing

Includes Book (Lost Creek MC Book 1) by Nia Farrell

Length 19,322 words.  Anthology release date April 18, 2020.

In the year 2055, you still don’t mess with Texas…

The Lost Creek MC is comprised of part-Native members adept at living off the land.  Their Vice President Book is a shaman.  A pure telepath, his psychic gifts have allowed them to survive The Fall of 2045 and flourish despite it in the new American Federation of States.

Hard times have led to harsh laws.  In the Flint Hills District of The Great State of Kansas, theft is punishable by death.  Book’s dystopian world is turned upside down when he goes after a water thief and meets the one woman on the planet he can’t read.

Twenty-five-year-old Adrienne James is the daughter of rock star Jackson Thomason, now President of The New Republic of Texas, his twin Jacob, and their wife Anna James. After her radiator hose breaks in Kansas, she’s assessed an exorbitant tap fee that must be paid before she’s allowed to leave. The First Daughter of Texas will be a “guest” of the Lost Creek MC until couriers from Austin make it through Oklahoma unscathed and arrive with the money.

Twelve years younger than Book, Adrienne is unabashedly sensual and totally off-limits.  Yet his Dominant side wants nothing more than to bring her to her knees.  Unfortunately, he’s not the only one who wants her.  The First Daughter is a prime political target, and danger is headed their way.

Book introduces the Lost Creek MC Series and is part of the Twisted Steel MC anthology from Knox Publishing, out April 18, 2020. Written for Ages 18+.

Excerpt 1 (527 words):

“Problems?” he asked.

She forced her shoulders down and swiveled her head to meet his gaze.  Looking into her amethyst eyes was like taking a sucker punch to his gut.

Just who the hell was she?

She gave him a quick once-over before breaking off and slicing her gaze back to her radiator.  “You could say that,” she drawled.

There was a hint of the South in her voice.  Oklahoma?  Southern Missouri, maybe.  She wasn’t native to Washington, that was for certain.

“I blew a hose.  I’m hoping like hell the duct tape will get me to a garage.  You don’t happen to know where I can find one, do you?”

Book eyed the drone and looked at the woman, searching her purple eyes for answers to the questions spiraling in his head.  Who was she?  What was she?  Where had he known her before?  She felt too familiar for this to be the first lifetime their paths had crossed.

For all that she was trying to look tough and act self-sufficient, the truth was, she was as vulnerable as any woman stranded in the middle of nowhere.  It was asking for trouble, but he was determined to not throw her to the wolves or let the hyenas have her.

“Tate’s Auto Repair is about fifteen miles,” he said, registering the flare of disappointment and hint of panic that flashed in her eyes, “but my club—Lost Creek—has a garage for our bikes and cages.  Mack can fix anything and he’ll cut you a deal on labor.  Putting on a hose shouldn’t be too much.”

His unspoken question was received loud and clear.  She bit her lip at the mention of expense, then confessed, “I can pay, or I can get more if I need to.  It’s not safe to travel with too much cash.”

So…she had some money.  Hopefully, she had enough to pay for the water.  Ideally, she had enough to cover it all in AFS dollars.  The legal tender printed by the American Federation of States was the western version of the Euro, available in denominations from one to a thousand.  But there were other forms of trade.  Other means of payment, especially for someone as young and pretty as she was.

And the world was full of men who’d have demanded it.

She was taking a chance that he wasn’t one of them.  But she wasn’t put off by the sight of his cut.  He took that as a good sign.

“True enough,” he agreed smoothly.  “I’ll need you to follow me.  If your van won’t make it, we’ll get Mack to tow it in.”

“Jesus Christ,” she groaned, a soft sound of forced capitulation.  “I hope the fuck not.  My dads are gonna shit a brick if I have to call them.”

He arched a brow at her comment but said nothing.  Two dads were becoming more common these days.  So were ménages.  Hell, the President of the New Republic of Texas shared his wife with his twin brother.

Times, they are a changing.  At least some good things had come along with the bad after the world fell apart.

Excerpt 2 (311 words):

She turned to the club’s Vice President, tilting her head so that she could meet his sapphire gaze.  For a moment, she let herself get lost in them.  “Thank you for stopping to check on me,” she said when she managed to speak again.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t get your name.”

He cleared his throat, the muscles of his neck making his Adam’s apple do an appealing slide.  When he spoke, his voice was rougher than it had been when it was just the two of them.

“David Reynolds,” he rasped.  “Better known as Book.”

“Book?”

She blinked, wondering if she’d heard him right.

“Book,” he repeated, like he was reading her goddamn mind.  “That’s my road name.  What they call me in the club.”

“Road name.  Yeah, I know,” she quipped, wondering what the hell was her godmother up to.

God bless it, Grace.

She’d told her there was a book in Kansas that she needed to find.  She didn’t say a goddamn word about it being a man.

Those beautiful sapphire eyes went hooded and his body stiffened at the sharpness of her tone.  The look that he gave her was pure Dom and full of censure.

“Sorry, Sir,” she apologized, cringing at how harsh she’d sounded and taking heart in the way that he responded to the honorific.  The man was a Dom.  He had to be.

Please let him be a Dom.

“I was just thinking about my uncle,” she lied.  “He was in a club back in the day.  The Midnight Raiders in Mt. Sterling, Minnesota.”

Scanning the garage, she saw that most of these men rode Hogs.  The younger Colson brother had taught her to ride a Harley.  Aunt Grace’s two husbands had taught her to ride horses.  With all the testosterone in the room, chances were good that she’d be riding a biker tonight.

Excerpt 3 (381 words, NSFW):

“I still don’t know why I can’t read you or why I don’t hear other voices when you’re close by.  It’s like a mute button’s been pushed in my brain.  This morning, when you stepped outside to make your call, all of a sudden I was hearing Deacon just fine.  Usually, I have to listen to the radio or TV or music to drown out the voices enough to sleep.  Tonight will be interesting.”

It would be if she had anything to say about it.

Adrienne pounced on the opportunity he’d presented.  “Aunt Grace says our guards go down while we sleep.  You told me I could pick, but I think we should share the bed.  Keep me close.  See if it works.  Tomorrow night, I can take the couch and you’ll have something to compare it with.  You may hear things with me at night that you won’t when we’re awake.  Sharing a bed will give you a basis of comparison, something to measure against.”

She looked forward to making her own comparisons.  Length and girth.  Skill and duration…

Her eyes must have betrayed her, because he leveled another Dom look at her and slowly shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice quiet, his Zen-master appearance perfectly calm.

In command of her and in control of himself.

If she didn’t have a lady boner before, she had one now.  Soft-spoken Doms were the best.  They’d watch you misbehave and whisper darkly in your ear, promising to make you regret it.

“Nothing is happening here,” he warned.  “You’re the First Daughter of Texas.  No one in our lodge is gonna touch you, including me… unless it’s to spank that ass and make you behave.”

Yes, please.

“Settle,” he growled.

God damn, she liked the sound of that.  She liked it a lot.  “Are you sure you can’t hear my thoughts?” she wondered.  He certainly wasn’t having any trouble reading her.

His mouth lifted slightly, lips canting upward.  “Your body language is enough.  And you’re not masking your face.  It’s pretty clear where your thoughts are headed, even if I can’t hear them.”

“Well, damn.”  She huffed a breath, unhappy with his refusal to budge when he could be bending her over his knee.

Or his bed.

Or both…

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Read about Adrienne’s rock star parents in

The Three Graces Duet 2: Something Different, Something Awesome

Duet out January 2020 at Amazon.

Also available as single titles Something Different and Something Awesome.

 

Follow the Lost Creek MC Series here at WordPress.

PLEASURE BOUND (BDSM anthology)

#0 Kinky cover

 

PLEASURE BOUND

(BDSM anthology)

by Skye Callahan, Nia Farrell, Deanndra Hall, Simone Leigh, Christina Mandara, Laci Paige, Adaline Raine, Claire Thompson, Shannon Youngblood, and Michele Zurlo.

Release Date: December 1, 2019. Offered FREE for a limited time

Universal Buy Link ebook     Amazon US e-book

Eden Books mobi ebook

Goodreads TBR     BookBub reviews

Ten stories of masterful Dominance and submission – first books in BDSM series by Skye Callahan, Nia Farrell, Deanndra Hall, Simone Leigh, Christina Mandara, Laci Paige, Adaline Raine, Claire Thompson, Shannon Youngblood, and Michele Zurlo.

These sinful novels are full of heat, suspense, and seduction. Guaranteed to make the tops of your toes and fingers tingle (and everything else in between)!

 

 

Includes

Entrust (A Club Obsidian Novel) by Skye Callahan

Find Her (Avenging Angels MC Book 1) by Nia Farrell

Adventurous Me (The Bliss Series Book 1) by Deanndra Hall

Mastering the Virgin (Box Set 1) by Simone Leigh 

Sparks by C.P. Mandara

The Silken Edge by Laci Paige

Daddy’s Sassy Little Supermodel by Adelaine Raine

The Compound (The Compound Trilogy) by Claire Thompson

Just a Man (The Porter Trilogy) by Shannon Youngblood

Drawing on Love (Mercenary Hearts Trilogy) by Michele Zurlo

 

 

 

 

AVENGING ANGELS MC SEASON ONE BOX SET

 


*´¨✫)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨)✯ 
✮ (¸.•´✶ (★•**•. ★
¸.•´¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*★ BLACK FRIDAY SPECIAL!!! Only 99¢!

 

AVENGING ANGELS MC SEASON ONE: Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction, Find Her, Keeper, Loser, Reaper by Nia Farrell. Updated length: 200,362 words. Release date November 29, 2019. Follow me at Amazon and BookBub for release alerts.

Amazon e-book   Amazon US

Goodreads TBR     BookBub reviews

 

What happens when MC meets erotic romance? Find out when you enter the world created by award-winning author Nia Farrell. The Season One box set includes the updated introductory short story and books 1-4. Written for ages 18+. Includes:

 

 

KEEPER—THE AVENGING ANGELS MC INTRODUCTION.

Expanded length: 2,834 words. Originally published June 1, 2017.

Teasers and Excerpt: http://bit.ly/AAMCintroWP

 

Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan and Isabella Castellari have a history. Kind of. He’s a member of the Avenging Angels MC and one of four brothers whom she thinks slept with her sister. Or did they? Nothing is as it seems. Isabella’s world is turned upside down when lies are exposed, truths revealed, and the man she’s been fantasizing about for three long years makes her an offer that she should refuse but can’t.

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FIND HER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 1

Length 40,669 words. Originally published date June 8, 2017.

~A 2018 Golden Flogger Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year~

Teasers & Excerpt http://bit.ly/AAMC1WP

 

Rose McLanahan is the princess of the Avenging Angels MC, daughter of its president and sister to four of its members, including Vice President Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan. But Rose has a secret. She wants out of the clubhouse—and getting her CPA is her chance to have the normal life that she dreams about.

Michael O’Flaherty is a computer whiz, security systems expert, and an associate of the Avenging Angels MC. He’s Mad Dog’s best friend, as well as his brother in arms. Their days in Marine RECON are put to use when Michael is called in to find the niece of the local mob boss. Krissy Castellari has been kidnapped by a rival club, the Blackwater Demons MC. Michael discovers where she’s being held, but she’s not alone. The Demons have Rose McLanahan, too.

Mad Dog and Michael join forces to extract the girls, but Rose is still in danger, having been promised to the son of the Demon’s president Reaper. Mad Dog is tasked with returning Krissy to her family, and Michael agrees to take Rose away until it’s safe for her to return. War has been declared. Blood will be spilled. Alone in the Angels’ safehouse, the Dominant Michael and submissive Rose will finally discover each other.

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KEEPER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 2

Updated length 42,626 words. Originally published September 8, 2017.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/AAMC2WP

When Avenging Angels MC Vice-President Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan Mad Dog recognizes Isabella Castellari stranded on a rural country road, remembering her toxic sister, he almost doesn’t stop. Seeing her as an end to a means, he brings her back to the Avenging Angels MC clubhouse and quickly learns that she’s different—very different—than what he expected. She’s a curious innocent, and willing to submit to his domination. But there are complications. A mob boss uncle, protective parents, a traitorous friend, and secrets that have been kept for far too long. Secrets that will either bind them together or tear them apart.

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LOSER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 3

Updated length 44,898 words. Originally published May 8, 2018.

Teasers and Excerpts http://bit.ly/AAMC3WP

 

They’ve both lost something…

For kindergarten teacher and kidnapping victim Sara Davies, it was a baby. For tattoo artist and Avenging Angels MC member Flynn McGee, it was his chance at a happily ever after. Bullied as a dyslexic teen, the product of a broken home, he struggles daily with self-worth. Sara battles PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, and night terrors that require medication if she has any hope of getting some sleep.

Flynn believes that BDSM would help Sara in her healing process but she’s only done vanilla. She thinks that Flynn needs to share his original artwork with the world. Each of them pushes the other, but the conflict that comes from being outside their comfort zones only fuels their passion.

Their fledgling relationship is put to the test when Sara becomes the target of a dangerous stalker. Can Flynn and the Avenging Angels keep her safe, or will Sara become Reaper’s next victim?

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REAPER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 4

Updated length 69,335 words. Originally published January 18, 2019.

Teasers and excerpts http://bit.ly/AAMC4WP

 

This dark, gripping Season One finale is loaded with triggers. Consider yourself warned.

Maureen “Mama Mare” McLanahan is the mother of five grown children and married to Patrick “Papa Bear” McLanahan, President of the Avenging Angels MC. For twenty-eight years, she has kept secrets that could shatter her marriage and ruin their lives. When their daughter Rose is kidnapped by their rival Blackwater Demons MC, Mare’s history with the Demons’ President Reaper returns to haunt her.

Rose emerges unscathed, but Mare is taken and brutally used before she’s rescued. Between the Visconti crime family and the Avenging Angels MC, the Blackwater Demons are destroyed—all save one. Reaper escapes. Mare spends the next three years fearing for her daughter and struggling with PTSD from her ordeal.

Reaper eventually resurfaces with a vengeance, taking and using two more women before he’s through. His heinous acts demand justice, but whose hand will wield the sword?

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EXCERPT: 

Isabella bit her lip, wondering what God was thinking when her car broke down miles from nowhere and she’d prayed for help. Surely He wouldn’t send Luke McLanahan. But there was no one else in sight. The next man who stopped might just pull her from her car or force his way inside.

The devil she knew seemed the better of the two.

“Can you give me a ride home?” she asked, cringing when she saw his grin flatten.

“You think that’s wise?” He put his arm on the roof and hooked a thumb into his belt loop, drawing her gaze downward to the front of his jeans.

No wonder her sister had crushed on him.

“What?”

He sighed heavily. “I said, that didn’t work out so well last time.”

Yes, but Krissy had come back half-naked in someone else’s clothes, clinging to Mad Dog’s back, while his three brothers rode shotgun to make sure nothing happened with her dad. They’d heard the rumors. She’d lived with them all her life.

“My folks are gone. If you don’t want the neighbors to see, then drop me off at the gas station by the highway,” she said. “I’ll call my friend Anna to come get me.”

Mad Dog gave her an odd look, then nodded his head. “Get your stuff, close your windows, and lock up. I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

It wasn’t the gas station. He buzzed right by the turn-off and kept going, not stopping until he’d pulled into the Avenging Angels’ gated parking lot, lined with bikes and flanked with vehicles. “Get off and stay close,” he ordered, not bothering to see if she did.

Left with no choice, she shouldered her bag and followed him into the clubhouse.

The air was heavy with more than tobacco smoke and rife with the smell of sex. In what seemed to be the club’s communal room, every piece of furniture was occupied by bikers getting blow jobs, eating pussy, or banging one of the club sluts. In a far corner, she saw Luke’s brother Richie sprawled in a chair, thighs spread wide, while a familiar head bobbed up and down between them.

Isabella’s stomach dropped, and she turned away.

There’d be no help from Anna tonight.

Mad Dog grabbed her wrist and pulled her after him. She went, helpless to do anything else. In here, she needed his protection… even if it came at a price.

He opened a door and dragged her inside what looked to be his bedroom. A small flat-screen TV sat on a scarred maple chest of drawers. The desk beside it held a printer and a laptop computer, its screen as black as Mad Dog’s soul.

Two interior doors led to what was likely a closet and what she hoped was a bathroom. “Is there somewhere I can wash up?”

They both knew she was stalling for time. He humored her anyway. “On the left,” he said, smirking. “Don’t get lost.”

As if she could. It was the tiniest bathroom that she’d ever seen. The stool and sink were opposite each other, so close, she could nearly use them both. The shower was better, spanning the other wall, roomy enough for a man Mad Dog’s size and likely big enough to share.

She used two squares of tissue to lower the seat so she could go, then did a surgical scrub on her hands. Pulling up her knit top, she covered her fingers and twisted the doorknob.

Mad Dog was looking at her e-reader.

Shit.

He grinned like the very devil. “Seems little sister has a thing for MC’s. Who’d have guessed?”

“They’re just books,” she snapped, plucking the reader from his hand and sticking it back in her bag. “Fiction. Just because I read it doesn’t mean I want it in real life.”

“Krissy did,” he drawled. “She wanted gang banged. Trouble is, she hooked up with the wrong club. She’s lucky we came along when we did. You might not have seen her again.”

Isabella felt her legs start to buckle. Mad Dog caught her and pulled her to sit beside him on the bed.

She stared up at him, remembering, wondering how she could have gotten it so wrong.

Krissy. Prissy Krissy. Too proud to admit where she’d been, she’d said nothing, just let them think she’d spent the night with Mad Dog and his brothers.

And now her best friend was banging one of them.

Isabella hoped it was only one.

“What about Anna?”

He tsked. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not my brother’s keeper. Richie’s been seeing her for two months or so now. They seem… fond of each other.”

“Fond?” She barked a laugh. “Is that what you call it?”

He angled his head. “You don’t have to be fond of someone to give them a blow job. You don’t even have to like them.” He fastened his gaze on her mouth. “You just have to be willing… and understand the rules. Only one of us gets to bite, and it’s not you, Isabella.”

He reached for her breast, then, and she let him. Three years of forbidden fantasies were suddenly within her grasp. His was hard enough to bruise.

“My rules. My way,” he growled, pinching her nipple and making her moan. “I like it rough, little girl. You have no idea. I doubt that you can handle me, but if you want to try….”

Did she?

Isabella’s mouth went dry, and she wet her lips. “How rough?”

Mad Dog caught her chin and pushed his thumb into her mouth. “Rough,” he rumbled, his blue eyes darkening when she started sucking and teasing it with her tongue. “Spanking. Bondage. My belt, if you beg me for it. I like oral, and I like anal. Say the word, and I’ll take you home. If you stay, you’re gonna get ridden hard and put away wet.”

He pulled his thumb from her mouth and fisted her hair. “Go or stay?” Tugging downward and lifting her chin, he forced her face up to meet his heated gaze.

“Stay….”

 

MORE (AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 5)

MORE

(AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 5)

by Nia Farrell

 

Length 46,920 words. Release date December 25, 2019. FREE with KU. 

Amazon Universal http://mybook.to/AAMC5

Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08342TJSC/

Teasers and excerpts http://bit.ly/MoreAAMC5WP

Goodreads http://bit.ly/AAMC5GR

BookBub http://bit.ly/AAMC5BB

 

Tag line: She must submit if she wants to survive.

 

When Avenging Angels MC assassin Iceman is ordered to “take care of” a former employee who stole from the club, he has every intention of doing a clean, quick kill with no trace left behind. No one told him that Holly Webster is a young single mother with a sick child.  Learning that her three-year-old boy is the grandson of the club’s arch-rival Reaper, President of the Blackwater Demons, Iceman decides to keep Holly instead of killing her.

A Dominant like the rest of his club brothers, Iceman suddenly finds himself in a Master/slave relationship in the bedroom and head of an instant family, complete with a dog.  He doesn’t like keeping secrets from his club but Holly and Zach are at risk until Reaper is found.  Can Iceman keep them safe or will Reaper find them first?

In the first truly dark romance of the series, More begins as a nonconsensual relationship that gradually shifts from forced compliance to consensual as Holly discovers the man behind the gun.  The story includes a Master/slave relationship, adult situations, domestic discipline, and potential triggers.  Written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt 1:

Remembering this morning’s fiasco, he’d kept an eye on Zach while his mother took a fast shower to wash away the smell of tuna.

Kids.

Hers was bright. Flipping through pages, he recited books to his teddy bear from memory and entertained himself with games that she’d loaded on his reader. At one point, he’d brought his tablet over to Iceman, sat by his right arm, and studied his ink, fascinated by his stylized tribute to his favorite band, Guns and Roses.

Holly came back dressed in the same clothes but definitely smelling fresher. He realized that he’d forgotten to tell her to shave her box.

She slowed her steps when she saw his frown. “Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly, afraid that one or both of them were in trouble.

“Yeah,” he said, scratching his chin. “I was gonna tell you to shave. Maybe tonight, once we get Little Bit here in bed.”

“Lidduw Bit?” This, from an affronted Zachariah. “I’m a big boy!” he declared, beating a tiny fist against his chest. “Mommy, teww him!”

“Zach, why don’t we ask Iceman where he came up with Little Bit? Maybe there’s a story.”

“There is,” he said, turning to her son. “This whole time your mommy was gone, anytime you asked me how long she’d be, what did I say?”

Zach stuck out his lower lip and furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “You said she’d be done in a lidduw bit.”

Iceman nodded. “In my club, everyone who joins gets a road name. But even prospects get called something.”

He nodded as if he understood, then stated, “I’m Zach and Mommy’s Lidduw Bit.”

Fuck if the kid wasn’t on to something. Iceman could hear himself. I want a Little Bit. I need a Little Bit. Give me a Little Bit.

He grinned unrepentantly at Holly. “You heard him. You’re Little Bit. But the boy here still needs a handle.”

Zach framed his face in his hands and thought about it hard.

“What does your mom call you,” Iceman asked him, “when she doesn’t call you Zachariah or Zach?”

“Big boy… and sweetie…,” he said. Wrinkling his nose, he rejected that from consideration. “And bucko….”

Iceman slapped his denim-covered thigh. “Well, there we go. Little Bit and Bucko. Congratulations. You both got club names.”

Holly shook her head, amused by her son.

Tossing his reader onto the seat, Zach launched himself at Iceman, throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely.

“Thank you, Iceman!” he chortled. “I’m Bucko!”

At least it was a name that he could say, no r’s or l’s to struggle through. Chances were, the sounds would come with age and practice. If not, they’d have to check into getting him speech therapy.

He didn’t stutter, so he had that much going for him.

 

Excerpt 2 (NSFW)

Expecting to see a red room of pain, she stepped into what looked like any normal man’s bedroom. The Mission-style bed, matching dresser and mirror, end tables, and chest of drawers were made of sturdy oak. A log cabin quilt in somber tones of rust, hunter green, tan, and navy covered the width of the king-sized mattress.

Her bag of clothes sat by the door next to a slat-back chair. He’d hung her purse on the back of it.

“Put it there,” he said, motioning from her hand to his dresser. Sitting on the chair, he pulled off his boots, peeled off his socks, and tucked them under, out of the way. Standing in front of the mirror, she watched him rise and stalk across the room, his hunter’s gaze fixed on her form, his man’s desire growing with every step that he made.

One way or another, whatever he wanted, he was going to take.

He stepped close behind her, reached around, and planted his hands on the dresser, caging her in his arms. Burying his nose in her hair, he took a deep breath that escaped on a sigh. “You shouldn’t smell so good.”

She didn’t, she wanted to tell him. She’d worked up a sweat, hurrying to load what they needed and get on the road. The change of clothes had helped, but she knew she could use another shower.

She wondered how he’d managed to keep fresh wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt and a ski mask in the early summer heat. His hair was damp with sweat but she couldn’t smell shampoo or body wash or a discernible scent of any kind. It seemed odd until she realized that he was a killer. An assassin would take care to go unnoticed, avoiding fragrances that could give him away or help identify him later.

Leaning away, he peeled off his shirt, revealing a full sleeve of ink from his right shoulder to his wrist. His left biceps—where the Avenging Angels logo normally went—was bare. There was nothing to link him to the club beyond the cut that he’d pulled from his saddlebag and carried into the cabin.

His sculpted chest was shaved as smooth as his rope-veined arms. A beaded necklace reached to his heart, ending in what looked like a claw. With that thick beard of his, he didn’t look Native American but she wondered if he wasn’t part Cherokee like her dad. The Trail of Tears to Oklahoma ran across the lower part of the state. Eventually, some descendants had made their way back to Illinois.

His heated gaze met hers in the mirror. Knowing that she was watching, he lifted his arm and rubbed a hand across his pecs, feeling the puckered brown discs of his areolas and making his nipples tighten into hard, pebbled crests.

“Take off your top.”

Pulling her hair over one shoulder to keep it from getting caught, she hooked her fingers into the bottom of her halter top and pulled it over her head. The black of her bra contrasted with her fair skin and tawny hair. The look of masculine appreciation confirmed that she’d made the right choice.

She ran a finger along the top edge, tracing the swell of her breast.

A low growl sounded in the back of his throat. “Cocktease,” he rumbled, making it sound like a dangerous thing. Gripping her hips, he pulled her back against his front and ground his erection against her.  “Such a dirty girl,” he tsked, cupping her sex. “Flynn McGee said you were so tight, he nearly busted a nut just working his way in. He knew it had been a while for you, but he didn’t know you were Sig’s old lady.”

Holly felt shame wash over her, reddening her cheeks and making her stomach clench. “I hadn’t been with anyone since Zachariah was born,” she whispered. She’d still be celibate if Reaper hadn’t found her and ordered her to do what she had.

“What about Shawn Porter?” he asked. “The customer you propositioned?”

Holly shook her head in denial. “It was a joke,” she insisted. “He’d been hitting on me and Easy A was playing on the TV in the waiting room. I quoted a line from the movie…, told him I’d had my eye on a label maker and wanted a hundred dollar gift card and he took it seriously, the piece of shit.”

Just that fast, his fist was in her hair, holding her tight and pulling her up onto her toes.  “You’re not one to talk, little girl.  Not with five hundred dollars missing from the till.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice fracturing, her vision blurring with tears.  The hand he’d shoved in her crotch slid upward. Five splayed fingers caught her breast in a bruising grip.

He jerked her hair, making her yelp. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, Sir!”

He jacked himself against her back, his erection digging a trench along her spine. “Close,” he whispered in her ear and bit it.  “In the clubhouse, I’d be your Sir and you’d be my pet. I’d know your hard and soft limits and your safewords to slow or stop. But you lost that right when you stole from the club and made a customer think you were a whore. You belong to me now, dirty girl.  I own you. Here, I am the Master and you are my slave. No choice. No safewords. My word is your law. I say, you do. No arguments, no excuses, no delays. Do you understand?”

“Yes…, Sir…,” she grated, tears escaping to track down her eyes.

He slapped her breast. “Yes, what?” he snarled, slapping it again.

“Yes…, Master…!”

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MORE (AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 5) SNEAK PEEK

Handsome fit man posing wearing in jeans with tattoo. Sport and fashion concept isolated on black background.

MORE: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 5 Sneak Peek…

by Nia Farrell

More is a dark romance with the club assassin Iceman and Holly Webster, mother of Reaper’s three-year-old grandson Zachariah.  Desperate to provide for her asthmatic son, Holly borrows money from the cash drawer at Angel Ink but is caught before she can replace it.  The club assassin sent to take care of her doesn’t know what she has a child until the night he comes to kill her. 

Iceman finds himself with an instant family when he decided to keep Holly instead.

Here’s a bit of their first morning together with her precocious but health-challenged three-year-old son…

Unedited excerpt: 
Remembering this morning’s fiasco, he’d kept an eye on Zach while his mother took a fast shower to wash away the smell of tuna.
Kids.
Hers was bright. Flipping through pages, he recited books to his teddy bear from memory and entertained himself with games that she’d loaded on his reader. At one point, he’d brought his tablet over to Iceman, sat by his right arm, and studied his ink, fascinated by his stylized tribute to his favorite band, Guns and Roses.
Holly came back dressed in the same clothes but definitely smelling fresher. He realized that he’d forgotten to tell her to shave her cunt.
She slowed her steps when she saw his frown. “Is everything okay?” she asked hesitantly, afraid that one or both of them were in trouble.
“Yeah,” he said, scratching his chin. “I was gonna tell you to shave. Maybe tonight, once we get Little Bit here in bed.”
“Lidduw Bit?” This, from an affronted Zachariah. “I’m a big boy!” he declared, beating a tiny fist against his chest. “Mommy, teww him!”
“Zach, why don’t we ask Iceman where he came up with Little Bit? Maybe there’s a story.”
“There is,” he said, turning to her son. “This whole time your mommy was gone, anytime you asked me how long she’d be, what did I say?”
Zach stuck out his lower lip and furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “You said she’d be done in a lidduw bit.”
Iceman nodded. “In my club, everyone who joins gets a road name. But even prospects get called something.”
He nodded as if he understood, then stated, “I’m Zach and Mommy’s Lidduw Bit.”
Fuck if the kid wasn’t on to something. Iceman could hear himself. I want a Little Bit. I need a Little Bit. Give me a Little Bit.
He grinned unrepentantly at Holly. “You heard him. You’re Little Bit. But the boy here still needs a handle.”
Zach framed his face in his hands and thought about it hard.
“What does your mom call you,” Iceman asked him, “when she doesn’t call you Zachariah or Zach?”
“Big boy… and sweetie…,” he said. Wrinkling his nose, he rejected that from consideration. “And bucko….”
Iceman slapped his denim-covered thigh. “Well, there we go. Little Bit and Bucko. Congratulations. You both got club names.”
Holly shook her head, amused by her son.
Tossing his reader onto the seat, Zach launched himself at Iceman, throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely.
“Thank you, Iceman!” he chortled. “I’m Bucko!”
At least it was a name that he could say, no r’s or l’s to struggle through. Chances were, the sounds would come with age and practice. If not, they’d have to check into getting him speech therapy.
He didn’t stutter, so he had that much going for him.

girl-603157 AAMC5 Zachariah

This is my WIP. I’ll post links as soon as they’re available. Meanwhile, enjoy the teasers!

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REAPER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 4

REAPER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 4

by Nia Farrell

Length 69,262 words.  Release date January 18, 2019.

Amazon Universal ebook     Amazon US ebook     Goodreads reviews

 

The dark, gripping Season One finale is loaded with triggers.  Consider yourself warned.

Maureen “Mama Mare” McLanahan is the mother of five grown children and married to Patrick “Papa Bear” McLanahan, President of the Avenging Angels MC.  For twenty-eight years, she has kept secrets that could shatter her marriage and ruin their lives.  No one knows that her oldest son might belong to Reaper Rhodes, President of the rival Blackwater Demons MC.

Reaper has been obsessed with Mare since high school.  When his collection crew brings back her daughter Rose as a party favor, he decides to save her for his son.  The next girl kidnapped has a mob boss uncle.  The Visconti crime family joins forces with the Angels to rescue both girls.

Reaper’s son is killed in a retaliatory strike by the Viscontis.  Wrongfully blaming the Angels, Reaper kidnaps Mama Mare to use as bait, with plans to kill her daughter.  Mare is rescued before that happens but Reaper escapes. She spends the next three years fearing for her daughter and struggling with PTSD from her ordeal.

Reaper eventually resurfaces with a vengeance, taking and using two more women before he’s through. His heinous acts demand justice, but whose hand will wield the sword?

This book had adult situations and triggers. Written for Ages 18+.

 

Excerpt 1:

“Remember that Fourth of July at the lake?” he rumbled.  “You couldn’t keep your hands off me, even when I warned you what would happen.”

“You were g-going away,” she stuttered, gasping at the feel of his hand.  “I wanted to give you a reason to come back.”

“You shouldn’t have.  You were too goddamn young and my best friend’s little sister.  I knew Jack would kill me if he learned that we were fooling around.”

“I was fifteen,” she reminded him.  “Old enough to know what I wanted.”

What she’d wanted was Patrick McLanahan, the boy she’d loved since she was twelve.  Let skeptics laugh, but it was God’s truth.

“You were a goddamn tease,” he rumbled.  “You’d worn your swimsuit under your clothes.  You peeled them off right in front of me.  Fuck if every guy there didn’t want you.”

“Except you,” she said, remembering his resistance.

“Oh, I wanted you, too, babygirl, but I had enough sense to wait until you were older.  You didn’t let me, though, did you?”

“No, Sir.”  She supposed that she should be sorry, but she wasn’t the least bit contrite.  She had wanted Patrick to be her first.  If she’d waited—

He added a third finger, stretching her out, preparing her for his possession.  “I remember you standing by yourself chest-deep in the water.  The sky was clear enough, you could see the Milky Way stretched out like a stairway to heaven.  There was only half a moon but it was enough to see your breasts when I came over and you took off your top for me.”

Despite her blatant invitation, he hadn’t reached for her.  Her whole body had ached for his touch.  Desperate, she had taken matters into her own hands.

“You came over to me,” Papa Bear rumbled, pumping his arm and hitting her hot spot.  “You wrapped your fingers around my cock and jacked me until I came in my briefs.”

She hadn’t known what else to do.  She’d been trying to get him to notice her, but he was so goddamn stubborn.  He’d kept his distance all night, talking to her brother and their friends and drinking beer that they’d snuck in.  When the first of them followed the girls into the water, Patrick had kicked off his shoes, peeled off his clothes, and waded out to her, wearing nothing but his white cotton underwear.

She had tried to get him out of his drawers, too.

“I wanted you to screw me.  You told me you wouldn’t.”

He had tried to shut her down with a tersely murmured string of swear words and a list of mumbled reasons why they couldn’t sleep together.  She’d given him a handjob, hoping that he’d change his mind and take what she was offering.

“And how long did that last?” he asked wryly.  “A month?”

“A month and three days.”  An eternity for a teenager teetering on the edge of spontaneous combustion.  “You were headed for boot camp in the morning.”

He was leaving, and she was desperate.  Dub Rhodes had been watching her… stalking her ever since his release.  She feared what would happen if he managed to catch her alone.  He was dangerous.  She knew that.  For whatever reason, he’d become fixated on her.  She had no doubt that he was capable of rape.  Given the chance, he’d steal her innocence and rob her of choice.

He would take what she had been saving for Patrick.

Patrick Seamus McLanahan was the boy of her dreams.  In her naughtiest fantasies, she had imagined him seducing her, deflowering her.  Despite her youth, despite her brother, despite his plans for a career in the military, she’d wanted Patrick to be her first.  On his last night home, she managed to make that happen.  There were things in the past that she wished she could change, but giving herself to Patrick wasn’t one of them.

“You were tight.  So fucking tight,” he rumbled, thrusting his hand and biting her neck in a claiming that betrayed his own tumult of emotions.  Outwardly today, he had stayed strong for her, for their family, for the club.  He needed to release his stress, to decompress, to reaffirm life and hope with sex, most basic of human needs.  “I thought I’d never work my way inside, even when I finally made it past your hymen.  Five kids and twenty-eight years later, and you still fit me like a glove.”

Excerpt 2:

“You have five minutes to get yourself off—and don’t think about faking it.  If that pussy’s not dripping wet, Mojo gets to ream your ass while I’m balls-deep in your cunt.”

Five minutes.  And she was filthy.

She ran to the door.  Swiped her face, wiped her hands, and cleaned her finger.  Instead of going back to the bed, she stayed where she was, facing the door.

Mare parted her folds with one hand and shoved her other hand between her legs.  Finding her clit, she teased it, circled it, rubbed it, fanning her flesh like a fire-starter, her fingers intent on sparking flames.  The heat built.  A familiar tension took hold of her core.  A desperate twist of her nipple and she came, gasping from the strength of her release.  Her body stiffened while her core convulsed.  Pussy walls spasmed, squeezing her juices like nectar from a cider press to trickle down her thighs.

She rested her forehead against the door, regaining her breath.

Reaper knocked it out of her again.

Coming up behind her, he kicked her feet apart, shoved his cock between her legs, found her opening, and impaled her with one, vicious thrust.  He slammed into her again, shoving her against the door, pinning her to it like a butterfly that he’d collected, spread, and mounted—except that she wasn’t dead. 

Not yet, anyway.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he grunted in her ear.  Sliding his teeth down her neck, he bit her shoulder so hard, she wondered if he’d drawn blood.  She whimpered from the pain and clamped down on her tongue to keep from begging.

“So fucking hot.”  He drilled into her, hips slamming into her with the force of a jackhammer and the ruthless rhythm of a heavy metal drum.  Reaching, he caught both breasts in a bruising grip and held her against him, her back to his front.

He tasted the tattoo on her shoulder, tracing the lines with his tongue.  “Ink’s good on you, little girl.  If we had more time, I’d commission another.  A tramp stamp with the Demons’ logo.  Every time you did it doggie, Papa Bear would know that I’ve owned this ass, too.”

With that, he pulled out, changed angles, and claimed her most private place, ignoring her squeals and pushing past the rings of muscle to seat himself inside.

“There it is,” he grated.  “As tight as I remember.  You were my first.  I’d never taken a girl’s ass.  I’d heard about it but had never done it.”

He jacked his hips and started pumping.  Her tender tissue screamed its objection.

“You were too drugged to fight me even if you’d been free.  I couldn’t turn you over bound to the bed, and I couldn’t lift your legs, so I untied you, flipped you over, and took your virgin ass.”

He was pounding into her now, reaming her raw, ruthless, merciless, a savage rut that ended with a sharp thrust and a guttural cry.

He poured himself into her depths.  When the last pulsing stream had subsided, he shook himself like the beast that he was and pulled out.  She tightened her sphincter, hoping to contain as much of the mess as she could.

Letting go of her breast, he took the washcloth off the doorknob and cleaned his junk with it.

He stuffed it in her crack when he was done.

“Turn around.”

She straightened from the door and pivoted on the balls of her feet to face him, feeling debased and ill-used and dirtier than she’d ever felt in her life.

“I hate you,” she whispered hoarsely.

He slid his dark brown gaze from her lips to her eyes, shook his head slowly, and tsked.  “You’re gonna hate me more before this is done.”

Leaning into her, he pushed her against the door.  His thickening cock surged between them, eager for another round.  Humping her with it, he whispered in her ear.  “Five minutes thirty-three seconds….”

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Find Her: Avenging Angels MC Book 1

 

Find Her—Avenging Angels MC Book 1 by Nia Farrell

Length 40,627 words. Release date June 8, 2017

Amazon http://mybook.to/AAMC1. ASIN B071WCFFKQ

Goodreads http://bit.ly/AAMC1GR 

Cover Reveals http://bit.ly/AAMC1CR 

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Blurb: Rose McLanahan is the princess of the Avenging Angels MC, daughter of its president and sister to four of its members, including Vice President Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan.  But Rose has a secret.  She wants out of the clubhouse—and getting her CPA is her chance to have the normal life that she dreams about.

Michael O’Flaherty is a computer whiz, security systems expert, and an associate of the Avenging Angels MC.  He’s Mad Dog’s best friend, as well as his brother in arms.  Their days in Marine RECON are put to use when Michael is called in to find the niece of the local mob boss.  Krissy Castellari has been kidnapped by a rival club, the Blackwater Demons MC.  Michael discovers where she’s being held, but she’s not alone.  The Demons have Rose McLanahan, too.

Mad Dog and Michael join forces to extract the girls, but Rose is still in danger, having been promised to the son of the Demon’s president Reaper.  Mad Dog is tasked with returning Krissy to her family, and Michael agrees to take Rose away until it’s safe for her to return.  War has been declared.  Blood will be spilled.  Alone in the Angels’ safehouse, the Dominant Michael and submissive Rose will finally discover each other.

Welcome to the Avenging Angels MC, full of Alpha males, Dominant bikers, and the submissive women who love them.  Written for ages 18+.

EXCERPT:

She’d noticed before all this that he was an attractive man.  She’d have to be blind not to, with that dark Irish coloring of his, thick black hair, a sinful brush of lashes framing his brilliant blue eyes, and the short scruff of beard that he wore that was so irresistible on men.  Trouble was, she was totally off his radar, like he had mental blinders that kept him from noticing her.  She had remained on the periphery of his vision, always out of focus…

Until now.

And he didn’t like it.  It was unsettling.  Disturbing.  Something that he couldn’t control, and his Dominant nature found that unacceptable.  Well, too bad.  He wasn’t her Sir—not yet, anyway.  He was just going to have to deal with it.

She didn’t tell him that she’d seen the movie before.  It had been a while, so she couldn’t remember everything that happened.  Let him think it was her first time.  It would serve him right for shutting her out.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed, watching the opening sequence.  “She must not be wearing lipstick, or she’d ruin that page she just pulled out of the typewriter.  And then she’d get spanked for it.  Maybe she wants spanked for it.  No, she needs her other hand free for the coffee.  Ah, I see.  Interesting office wear.  After this movie, do you think businesses started addressing spreader bars in their dress code?”

Michael rubbed his face and said nothing.

“She’s leaving home.  Just graduated and her dad’s sending her off into the world alone.  No, someone’s picking her up.  A wedding?  And that’s her gay best friend.  She doesn’t like the older guy hugging her.  What’s that stuff?  Wait.  She’s a cutter?  No shit.  But she stops herself.  Good girl.”

She kept it up, getting some of it right, telling some of it wrong.  Michael didn’t seem to appreciate that she thought the spanking scene was fucking hot, or like listening to the extended argument she had with herself, whether or not there was penetration.  “He’s probably just dry humping her,” she decided.  “He seems the type, to deny a girl her pleasure.”

“She’s being punished,” Michael growled.  “She hasn’t earned his cock or an orgasm.”

Rose was feeling reckless after her second beer.  “And what the hell does it take to earn a fucking cock?  The woman has done whatever he asked, from dumpster diving to crawling.  I’d say she’s more than earned it.”

“When she’s not being punished, yeah.  I suppose you’re right.  But not now.  Anything else waits.”

She drained her bottle and pointed it at him like an accusing finger.  “You know, women get tired of waiting, same as men.  He’ll be lucky if she stays.  A woman with that kind of devotion who gets kicks from his kink?  We’re a rare breed, Michael, but then, I guess you know that, right?  No steady girlfriend.  No permanent sub.  Still banging that housesitter of yours?  Heidi?  Brunhilde?”

“Gretchen,” he snapped, glowering.  “Her name is Gretchen, and that’s none of your fucking business.  How much have you had to drink?”

She stopped to think.  “Dos,” she deliberately slurred and held up two fingers and a thumb.  “See?  You’re not the only one who knows a foreign language.  Yo hablo español.”

Michael tsked and shook his head.  “Well, that’s two too many, princess.  No more today, if that’s all the better you can handle it.”

Rose sat up straight.  “I can handle it,” she argued, pinning Michael with her gaze.  “I can handle a lot of things.”  Keeping her eyes on him, she wagged a finger at the movie they were watching.  “I bet I could handle his kink.  I bet I could handle your kink.”

Michael crossed his arms and smirked at her.  “Oh, really?  You think you can handle me?  Little girl, you have no idea.”

Rose cringed.  “Don’t call me that!  I’m not a little girl.  I’m fucking nineteen years old, Crash!  When are you gonna stop treating me like a child and see that I’m all grown up?”

“When you stop fucking acting like one.”

Michael leveled that look—the one that commanded respect, demanded obedience, while every fiber of her being was daring her to disobey.

Clutching her empty bottle to her chest, she gave him her own incredulous look and shook her head in disbelief.  “You,” she grated, “are so fucking clueless.  You have no idea.  None!”  She rolled her eyes and barked a harsh laugh.  “You know what?  It doesn’t matter.  Screw this.  Screw you!”

Rose shot out of her seat and started walking.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Michael said, his voice filled with displeasure.

“The kitchen,” she snapped, refusing to look at him.  “I’m going to throw away my trash.”

“That will wait until I goddamn say so,” he said tightly, rising from his seat and stalking towards her.  “Fucking lot of nerve you’ve got, after everything I’ve done for you.  You think you can disrespect me like that and fucking walk away?  Think again, little girl.  You tease me, you rouse the beast.  You say you can handle kink.  Let’s start with a spanking.  See how hot you think it is when it’s your ass on fire.”

Rose shivered.  Michael took the beer bottle from her fingers and tossed it on the sofa.  He eyed the rounded end, then her.  “Bend over it.  Now!”

 Oh, God.

She draped herself over the end of the sofa, putting her hands on the seat cushion, bracing herself on straightened arms, preparing herself for what was coming.  When nothing came, she looked over her shoulder to find Michael staring at her ass.  Her T-shirt had ridden up, and her yoga pants had no panty lines.

Before she could chicken out, she reached behind her, hooked her thumbs in her waistband, and slid her pants to the middle of her thighs.  Reaching, she put her palms on the sofa cushion and waited for him to begin.

He stepped closer.  Covering one ass cheek with his large, capable hand, he tested it, mapping the contours, flexing his fingers, feeling the tone of her muscles, and judging resiliency.

The first spank smarted.  She grimaced but otherwise did not react.  The second blow fell hard enough to make her breath catch in her chest.  More strikes, on both sides, quicker, harder, working up to the flurry of them that they had watched.

By the time they finished, Rose was a sobbing mess and Michael had a raging hard on.

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