Find Loren & Amanda at: Amazon US - UK - CA | BN US - UK | Kobo | Smashwords | Sony | Apple | All Romance Ebooks
Betrayed by her commanding officers and abandoned by her
husband, plus-size Major Amanda Child wants to spend her forced retirement
flying under the government's radar while she finds proof of its crimes. What
she gets is six-feet-three-inches of rogue Berserker handcuffed to her bed. Will
one night of pure bliss reveal that the last thing she was looking for is the
one thing she desperately needs?
**********
This 8,800+ word story is for readers who love near future dystopian science fiction with a happy-for-now ending and hot, explicit sex with a next-gen bad boy who could soak any woman's panties.
**********
**********
This 8,800+ word story is for readers who love near future dystopian science fiction with a happy-for-now ending and hot, explicit sex with a next-gen bad boy who could soak any woman's panties.
**********
And now for an excerpt :D
"I know what you are." The words were out before she could think to call them back.
His mouth curled to the right in a weary smirk. "What am I?"
He tilted his head as he asked and she could tell that he listened for something. Memories flooded to the front of her mind -- the men’s enhanced vision and hearing, a crazy grip you couldn’t shake off and blue eyes that bled to black when they clicked into some kind of battle trance.
Amanda shrugged. She didn’t have a name for what he was -- no agency tags had been placed on the mission. She tilted her head and listened with him, finally hearing a familiar double whir. "Toran LH-67, single seater, urban reconnaissance."
Out in the open, the small helicopters were quiet until they approached within a block of a person. Her intruder had detected it at least half a minute before she had, all with the singer on the radio moaning in the background.
"SUV out front..." He hesitated, lifted one dark brow. "Make that two."
Looking at his eyes, she saw the first fine strands of black start to bleed from the pupils into his irises. He glanced over his shoulder at the pistol on her bed.
She placed her free hand flat against his chest. "You don’t have to run."
When he didn’t move, she eased from where he had her wedged between his body and the wall. Reaching into the top drawer of her dresser, she removed two sets of handcuffs.
"Take your shirt off and get on the bed."
"I know what you are." The words were out before she could think to call them back.
His mouth curled to the right in a weary smirk. "What am I?"
He tilted his head as he asked and she could tell that he listened for something. Memories flooded to the front of her mind -- the men’s enhanced vision and hearing, a crazy grip you couldn’t shake off and blue eyes that bled to black when they clicked into some kind of battle trance.
Amanda shrugged. She didn’t have a name for what he was -- no agency tags had been placed on the mission. She tilted her head and listened with him, finally hearing a familiar double whir. "Toran LH-67, single seater, urban reconnaissance."
Out in the open, the small helicopters were quiet until they approached within a block of a person. Her intruder had detected it at least half a minute before she had, all with the singer on the radio moaning in the background.
"SUV out front..." He hesitated, lifted one dark brow. "Make that two."
Looking at his eyes, she saw the first fine strands of black start to bleed from the pupils into his irises. He glanced over his shoulder at the pistol on her bed.
She placed her free hand flat against his chest. "You don’t have to run."
When he didn’t move, she eased from where he had her wedged between his body and the wall. Reaching into the top drawer of her dresser, she removed two sets of handcuffs.
"Take your shirt off and get on the bed."
