Thursday, March 26, 2015



Would you give yourself to a stranger? Gwendolyn Myers never thought about it until she runs into Marcus 'Bowie' Ford at the Pink Pussy. A run-down hotel at the edge of town. She's on the run, but one taste of the sexy biker convinces Gwen that her running days might be over!



"Is there a restaurant or bar around here where I can get something to eat and drink?" I inquired while he was counting out the change. I was exhausted, but I was also starving and hadn't eaten since early that morning. I glanced around the office until I found a clock. It was just after nine.

"There's the Red Rooster across the street. It’s a bar but they serve up sandwiches and burgers. They stay open until two."

Great, I could walk over and get a sandwich. I held my hand out for the change.

"Not your kind of bar."

The gravelly voice came from the sexy biker behind me, and forced me to turn around and acknowledge him. I had to look a long way up to meet the intensity of his eyes, which were dark and compelling. God damn! The man had trouble written all over him, and a little spark of fear uncurled deep inside my belly warning me to be cautious at how I responded. "Excuse me?" How did he know what kind of bar was my kind of bar?

He crossed his arms over his massive chest. Not an ounce of emotion on his hard, rugged face. "The place caters to the rough crowd."

His deep and sensual voice sent a ripple of awareness through me that I couldn’t deny. I don't know where I managed to dredge up a tiny smile, my token thank you for the warning. "I can take care of myself." My inner voice scoffed and said, yeah, since when?

The biker tilted his head and gave me the slowest up and down look that I'd ever received. His visual caress, when he lingered on my lady parts, cranked my libido up to an uncomfortable heat level. I raised my chin, knowing that it wouldn't add any height to my five feet seven inch frame. Jesus, everything about this stranger was making me hot. I wanted to groan when I felt my nipples harden right beneath his intense stare. The slightest quirk of his mouth told me that he'd noticed.

His brown gaze gradually continued up my throat, to my face. When I saw his eyes narrow I knew he was noticing the fading bruise on my cheek, which makeup had covered earlier. Was it my imagination that his mouth tightened? Then his eyes locked onto mine.

"Right," he said.

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