I couldn’t be more thrilled that the amazing, talented, and INCREDIBLE Desiree has released a new book! Congratulations to the woman I now officially have named The Energizer Bunny. I am so proud of you, Desiree! Now everyone leave me alone. I need me a little Buck Montgomery…nommmmm…
**“Saved By His Submissive” is now an ARe bestseller!**
Garrett Hawkins is the most valuable asset to his Special Forces unit—because frankly, the guy doesn’t care if he lives or dies anymore. Since the love of his life, Sage Weston, was kidnapped and killed with her medical unit a year ago, Garrett has turned the shell of his soul into the impenetrable armor of a finely-tuned fighting machine. Being the first tapped for the unit’s craziest missions is just fine by him. The less time for memories, and the agony they carve into his soul, the better.
It’s a plan that works—until one night, deep in the jungles of Thailand, Garrett’s world is upended when memories become stunning reality. The unit is called to rescue a group of kidnapped aid workers, only the head count on the retrieval is unexpectedly doubled. Sage and her teammates, believed dead, are very much alive. Only now that Sage is back in his arms, Garrett doesn’t know what to do. He has changed in dramatic and daunting ways, especially in the darker tastes of his passion. If he touches Sage again, he’ll want to claim her, restrain her…dominate her.
Is Sage’s love strong enough to let Garrett back in not only as her fiancé, but her Dominant? Can she trust that visiting the new shadows of his life will lead her to ecstasy and not ruin? Or can it be that Garrett’s discipline is exactly what her own soul needs to find its way back to life—and love—once again?
Here’s a little bit of the book for you!
“Garrett!” She pleaded it against his jaw when he dragged away to let her breathe. “Oh yes…”
He stopped her with another kiss, though he wasn’t sure this still qualified as kissing. Conquering her mouth, controlling it completely, was a rushing, consuming exigency. He needed this. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of her.
He bracketed her face with one hand, holding her in place while he plunged, plowed, and explored with his tongue and teeth. His imagination went into hyperdrive again. It taunted him with the fantasy of her creamy and nude against the leaves and mud. Ditch the dream, Hawk. Isn’t going to happen here. But the creative imagery exercise left its mark in his blood, torching him from head to toe so even the act of pulling down her jumpsuit zipper was a pure carnal pleasure. Her answering moan urged him on. In seconds, he found his way under her T-shirt and bra, landing his eager fingers on one of her erect nipples.
He finally pulled away from her lips, but didn’t go very far. The soft column of her neck beckoned. He marked the skin there with his teeth while he continued to tease her breast. “Damn it, Sage,” he growled against her jugular, “I should still be furious with you.”
“I know.” Her voice was a rasp, but her hands gave him a different message. She tore at his back with her fingernails, her touch almost bestial with need. “I know, and I’m sorry…”
Garrett went at her mouth again, and she dug at his back even harder. He grunted from the new pressure but followed with a rough moan. If his endorphins weren’t turbo-charging everything in his body, he imagined her ploughs would be painful, but the only sensation he cared about was the hotter, harder, heaviness between his thighs.
Hell. They needed to stop. The most dangerous prisoner in his psyche began stirring again. The dark beast paced the cage of his soul, demanding a little exercise. Okay, a lot of exercise. And his brain had run a goddamn mental obstacle course for the last two hours, depleting his strength to fight the monster.
He needed to push away. He needed to leave her the hell alone, or the cage was going to snap. This animal he didn’t know, much less control, was going to break free. Seeing her like this, with her hair half-down and her eyes half-wild, didn’t help. Not one fucking bit.
“Sorry,” she offered again, lifting her lips to his chin, his neck. “Garrett, I really am—”
“No.” The mix of the beast’s voice and her plea was a double whammy on his dwindling restraint. He moved his hand into her hair and yanked her head to one side. As he sank his teeth again to her neck, he slid his hand to her other breast. No,” he repeated in a seductive snarl, “I don’t think you really are.” Her peak came alive under his squeezing fingers. Her sharp gasp was exactly the reaction he sought. He could feel her hammering pulse through his questing tongue. “But if we were anywhere else, I’d make sure you were truly sorry.”
A deep swallow undulated down her throat. “You—you would?”
Her head tipped deeper to the side, sending her hot, panting breaths into his shoulder. She nipped at the skin there, dipping her head as if trying to determine how to crawl inside him, before uttering one word of reply.
Her sweet, quivering question sent a shot of lighter fluid into his cock. Damn, it had been four hundred forty five days since he’d last been inside her, not that he was counting. He let out a harsh breath as his briefs chafed with a familiar wetness. Hello, pre-cum.
“I’d have this jumpsuit down past your knees.” Acting on at least part of that fantasy, he unzipped the jumpsuit farther. Her body had warmed the inside of it, forming a perfect welcome for his wind-chilled hands. She let loose a gorgeous sigh as he swept his grip around, cupping her ass with voracious force. “Then this bra would be gone too. You’d be naked for me. Exposed. At my mercy.”
He felt her thighs tremble. She scored his spine with her nails. “But I still wouldn’t be sorry.”
“No,” he said, “you probably wouldn’t be.”
As he gripped her tighter, fitting the apex of her body against the center of his, he angled his gaze to lock into hers. Damn it, here came the animal again. It charged the disintegrating cage of his control, completely taking over his next words.
“That’s why I’d have to get you over my knees.”
Hi there. I’m Angel: book lover, hopeless romantic, pop culture geek and hopeless coffee addict.
I’ve been hooked on books since I was a kid, but it all got even worse in my twenties, when I discovered romances—the hotter, the better. Growing up in Southern California, with lots of surfer-type manliness surrounded me, certainly didn’t help to assuage the need for reading about delicious alpha guys and the women who adore them. When I learned I had a knack for telling these stories too, I guess you could say I was doomed—though my path toward erotic romance novelist took a few detours via a concert-reviewing gig for my college newspaper (free show tickets…backstage passes…that was sort of a no-brainer), artist interviews for a Beverly Hills dance music mag, and a very, very bad try at a Young Adult novel (don’t ask; it’s not pretty).
These days, I still live in California, and have found an amazing alpha guy of my own who was brave enough to marry me. We live on a street that looks like Brigadoon, with our beautiful daughter and a crazy dog. I have the best life ever, and never forget to thank the Big Guy Upstairs for it, either.
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One winner will receive a coolio swag bag of Angel Payne goodies, $10 Amazon GC, PLUS a donation to the Special Operations Warriors Foundation in the winner’s name for $25. Just comment and fill out the rafflecopter below.