The Long Way – Chapter Reveal

AA02D387-21DE-41C6-8071-761A42407F4A.jpegChapter 1:


I’d love to wreck you



“I want to. I swear I’m ready,” I reassure him mid-whimper because I’m so far-gone, all reasonable thoughts have left my brain. His hands are everywhere, and it feels so crazy good … scarily good, though he refuses to go where I need him the most. I swear to God, I’m on the verge of desperation. I’ve never been this worked up in my whole life.

“Sam,” I call breathlessly, needing him to hear how badly I want this.

“Fuck.” Indecision is evident in his voice as he pulls my bra down to expose my breasts. His dark gaze on them makes my nipples impossibly harder. “We can’t,” he says, his voice strangled before he tugs at my nipple with his teeth and then sucks it into his mouth. My head falls back onto the makeshift pillow made from his discarded T-shirt.

I vaguely register the sound of crickets in the background; the moonlight above provides a sliver of light and a gently breeze blows through the trees. Old blankets are spread out along the tailgate of Sam’s beat-up pickup truck. To some people, this might not be ideal, but to me, it’s perfect. Anywhere he is, is perfect.

He releases my breast with a pop, and I cry out at the loss of him. His eyes are on me, and though I can’t see the rich color of them, I love the way he’s staring at me intently, longingly, making me feel cherished.

“As much as it kills me”—he lets out a sigh—“you wanted to wait for marriage and that was important to you. I’m trying like fuck to honor that, baby.”

“I know,” I whisper, cupping his face between my hands. “I know what I said, but we’re engaged now. I love you, you feel the same way about me, and I’m ready. We don’t have to wait,” I tell him, running my fingers through his light brown hair. I catch a glimpse of the ring he presented to me earlier on my finger.

I can see the uncertainty playing in his eyes as I wrap my arms around him. He wanted it, I know he did, maybe even more than I did, but the vow I had made to myself, a vow that I shared with him early in our relationship, was holding him back. It was important for him to give me that, and I loved him even more because of it.

But the ring he placed on my finger that very night was a game changer for me. For me, the promise of forever with him was enough to let myself have more and, in turn, give him more. I wanted that for him, for us, because I had never in my life met someone as patient as he had always been with me.

I met Sam two years ago when I moved to California to attend college and to be closer to my mom. She and my dad divorced when I was ten years old, and though she tried her hardest to get custody of me, ultimately, my dad used all his resources—money, power, and influence—to sweep up the courtroom floor with her. She never had any real chance of winning a custody battle against a man like him, and I think she always knew this. I think that’s why she stayed as long as she did, why she put up with him even though he never treated her well. He ruled with an iron fist where my mother was concerned, and she had the scars to prove it. Everything about my father is hard, cold, and unfeeling. The only thing he’s ever loved was money. The art of making it, keeping it, and watching it multiply. Anything else that he’s acquired over the years, including me, has been for show. So he could appear to be a man who not only had everything, but had the love of his family as well. This is why my mother’s departure was such a problem for him. This is why he would rather put up with a daughter he had no desire to raise than let her be with a mother who loved her.

I suffered through losing my mother in lonely silence because any show of a less than positive emotion in front of my father was expressly unacceptable. Even still, I tried my hardest to make him proud of me, to gain his approval and his love, but I was barely even a blip on his radar. So when it was time to think about applying for colleges, I set my sights on California. I wanted to be closer to my mother, and my father allowed this because I was accepted to the University of Berkeley, one of the top schools in the country, and he could brag about me to his colleagues and clients. He moved me into my dorm, personally making sure I had the best of the best, a rare single room on campus. A room I rarely occupy because I spend most nights sleeping at my mom’s, wanting to spend as much time with her as I can to make up for the years we’ve been apart and I’ve missed her.

I like to think my move to California was fate, it was meant to be, and I know this because it took me exactly three days to meet Sam once I moved here. The minute I saw him, I knew my life was about to change, and he would be the one to change it. I couldn’t have been more right. He brought color into a world that, for me, had only ever been gray. He gave me more joy than I knew what to do with. His presence in my life was immeasurable. Even when I had my mom around, she was never able to shelter me from my father. She was never able to protect me, and when she left, it only got worse.

Unbeknownst to my father, and obviously against his wishes, my mother provided me with her old car when I got to California, a little red convertible that I loved more than anything. Taking her advice, I took it to get the brakes checked and oil changed immediately. That’s where I saw him for the first time. I’d checked the car in and sat in the tiny waiting room of the old garage waiting for the car to be done. After about an hour of sitting there watching a really bad morning news talk show, I was starting to get beyond antsy. Luckily, not more than a few minutes later, the receptionist called me to the front. She took my payment and kindly let me know that the mechanic who worked on my car would bring it around the front of the building. I smiled at her but thought to myself, great, now I’ll have to wait some more.

When I headed outside to wait, I was relieved when I saw my car pulling up to the curb. The driver’s side door opened, and I kid you not, I felt my heart stop the minute he stepped foot out of my car. His tall frame in greasy coveralls bent impossibly to clear the door. His dark hair was cut neat and short, but it was his eyes…those honey-colored eyes, that had me sucking in a sharp breath. I took in as much as I could of him without staring too long, but what I was able to take in was good, all good. He was so amazingly handsome with tan skin, a strong jaw, and perfectly chiseled features. The rest of him was equally as magnificent—lean, hard, sculpted … just, wow.

“You’re all set,” he said, holding out the car keys for me and snapping me out of my revelry. I couldn’t help but to blush when my eyes locked on his as I reached out for the keys. His fingers grazed my hand during the transfer, and I couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth that spread through me with just a touch.

“Thanks,” I managed to murmur, closing my hands around the keys. I moved toward the car, thinking what a disappointment it would be to never see that face again. It was like all the stars aligned in my favor when he called out to me.


I turned to him just as he took a step toward me. A flurry of butterflies took flight in my stomach as his eyes locked on mine, rendering me speechless. He stared at me for a moment, and I watched with utter fascination as his face transformed from serious to playful. It was like the most complex magic trick, completely fascinating.

“This is about the time I give you a really bad pickup line, but I don’t want to scare you.” His words allowed my body to relax enough to smile and find my voice.

“How bad could it be?” I asked with a curious tilt of my head.

“I have a few.” His grin was mischievous, but I found something about it endearing.

“Okay, hit me,” I said, relaxing my stance further. Even then, just a moment into our conversation, I knew I could easily stand there and talk to him for hours.

“All right,” he agreed, taking a step closer to me. My heartbeat quickened at his proximity, and I wished he would’ve kept walking, caged me against the car, and planted a kiss on me. Unrealistic, I know, but a girl can dream.

“Do you know what the difference is between you and my car?”

“No…” I drew out the “o” playfully, unable to control my lips tipping up in an even bigger smile. “What’s the difference?”

His shoulders shrugged almost apologetically as he delivered his punchline. “I’d love to wreck you.”

“Oh, wow.” I giggle. “That’s really bad.”

“Okay, how about this one,” he stated with that same grin. God, the charisma of this guy was off the charts. “Is your battery dead because I’d love to jump you?”

“I’m not sure which one is worse.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a nod, “they’re pretty bad.” He took another step closer, close enough for me to reach out and touch him, and I found it surprising how badly I wanted to do just that. How badly I wanted to touch the slight stubble on his jaw and experience the feel of it just once.

“How about I just tell you that I’m Sam and I think you’re beautiful?” I believed him. When the words came out of his mouth, he made me feel beautiful. I didn’t know if he was just skilled at delivering a compliment, or if he actually meant them, but I didn’t think it even mattered.

“That’s much better,” I said quietly, averting my eyes toward the ground.

“Now you’re supposed to tell me your name,” he pushed gently.

“Ashton,” I replied gazing back up at him, trying to formulate an accurate assessment about just how amazingly handsome he really was.

“I don’t normally attempt to pick women up at work, but uh, I was hoping you might like to go out with me some time.” For just a moment, he sounded insecure. Maybe he was unsure whether I’d say yes or just politely turn him down and walk away.

I didn’t have much experience with boys. Thanks to the tyrant of a father I had, dating was nearly impossible. Maybe that was why I didn’t play games where Sam was concerned. Not once did I play coy or hard to get. I wanted to go out with him, and I wasted no time in telling him so.

“I’d love to go out with you,” I answered almost immediately. It was just that easy with Sam; he always made everything beautiful and easy. He went to the local community college and worked at the garage. I went to the university and our schedules couldn’t have been more different, but he always found a way to make it work. He always found the time to see me. He gave of himself easily and let me be myself, let me express myself in a way that I’d never been able to do before. For years, my life had been stifling, and Sam gave me freedom. Sam was freedom, and because of that, I loved him more than anything.

The sound of Sam calling my name brings me back to the present, and when I look into his eyes, I know he’s come to a decision.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says, righting my bra and pulling me up to sit next to him. “You sleep on it, and if you still want to, I’ll make sure it’s right. Not in the back of my truck. I’ll get us a hotel room in Santa Cruz, and we’ll go down for the weekend.”

I smile, liking the idea of that…a weekend with just Sam and me alone.


“Okay,” he says with a kiss to my forehead. We make out a little more and listen to the music. He holds me the way he always does, the way I love.

It was a perfect night, one of our last perfect nights.

To this day, I still regret not forcing his hand and pushing him to go all the way that night. It’s just one in a list of many regrets where Sam is concerned.







“Fuck you.”

“Why would I do that when I’ve already fucked you, Lucy?” Automatically, my brain plays back the highlight reel of the last couple of hours. The downright dirty sex in every imaginable position—the slapping of skin, the exchanging of fluids, and the nearly broken furniture. All in all, it was one of my more epic nights.

“Lizzy.” She corrects me, bringing my attention back to the here and now. I’d rather be back at the epic portion of the evening.

“That’s what I said,” I reply nonchalantly, giving the impression I have not a care in the world and what I’m doing right now isn’t the least bit fucked up.

“God, what is wrong with you? You can’t even keep my name straight.” She scowls, keeping the blanket secured tightly across her chest. Does she think I don’t know what’s underneath it? I had my mouth on pretty much every single part of her body. Some were nicer than others, but the breasts? The breasts were outstanding.

“Why would I need to keep your name straight? Will it be appearing on a marriage license next to mine anytime soon?” I ask, with a casual shake of my head. “Not likely.”

I do up the last button on my shirt, reach for my wallet on the nightstand, open it up and toss a couple of bills down, all the while pretending that I don’t notice that the half naked girl in the bed is staring daggers at me.

“The room is paid through the night; this should be enough money to make sure you get home safely.”

I watch with little interest as her tits sway when the sheet falls away as she pushes up and onto her knees. She reaches for the money, crumples it up, and throws it at me. This one’s got a temper on her; the red hair should have tipped me off, but I was too busy staring at the fucking tits to notice.

“I’m not a whore, you asshole!”

“Seriously?” I ask, pulling on my suit jacket. I don’t know why I say what I say next. I’m honestly not trying to be a dick, but she’s combative, and I think I like that about her. I think I almost want to see her temper flare. “You might want to consider it because you take cock like a pro.”

I can almost imagine she resembles a volcano erupting as she lunges off the bed, hands out in front of her. Landing on my chest, she gives me a shove. She’s tiny, but she packs a mighty punch, I’ll give her that. She almost manages to move me back a step but I catch myself, locking my frame tight before she could actually connect.

“Relax, Leslie; I was giving you a fucking compliment.”

“It’s Lizzie, you asshole! Lizzie!”

“Right,” I say, taking a few steps back and looking around the room to make sure I don’t forget anything. Making sure there are no knives or blunt objects Lisa can use to do bodily harm. “Take care of yourself,” I call as I reach the door.

“You think you can just go around making girls think that you’re into them and then leave them after you’ve gotten what you wanted?” She crosses her arms over her chest and looks wounded, like a fragile bird I’ve managed to do real damage to.

“I’ve had success with this in the past, yes.” I give her a nod, my stance firm, my gaze cold and apathetic.

She shakes her head, her eyes no longer angry but filled with pity instead. This infuriates me. It enrages me to see her looking at me as if I’m someone she can look down at. I’ve had just about enough of her when she whispers, “What kind of a miserable scumbag of a man are you?”

“The kind you met at the bar down the street and allowed him to buy you two drinks. The kind who never actually said there would be anything beyond tonight. The kind you liked well enough to come to a hotel with less than an hour after meeting him, letting him fuck your brains out while you called him God, baby, and daddy and loved it,” I say with a smirk on my face. “That’s the kind of man I am, but Laurie? What exactly does all that say about the kind of girl you are?”

Parting blow delivered, I leave her looking damn right repentant, making her feel like the easy piece of ass that she turned out to be. Not that I’m judging because believe me, I’m not. Easy is what I prefer; it’s exactly what I need to get through the fucked-up day-to-day existence that I lead. It doesn’t change the fact that I feel like shit as I ride the elevator down to the lobby. It’s nearing three am when I make it out of the hotel and onto the street. It always amazes me how there are always people bustling around the city, even at this hour. New York doesn’t ever sleep; there’s always life to be seen and heard and experienced, and it’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated about living here.

Following a brief text message as I left the room, James, my driver, is waiting with the car idling by the curb. He spots me and moves to exit the car in order to come around and open my door, but I wave him off. I can open my own fucking door.

“Evening, Mr. Parker,” he calls as I slide into the back seat, shut the door behind me, and rest an elbow on the back of my seat.

“Did you grab my bag, James?”

“Yes, sir. Your apartment is locked up, and the plane is ready and waiting.”

Fantastic, I think to myself. This is exactly what I want to do with the next few months of my life. Yes, I’m being sarcastic. The last thing I want to do is get on a plane to spend God knows how many months in the fucking South. I owe a special thanks for this shitty fact to my father, the asshole who knows no bounds to just how much of a dick he’s capable of being. As a matter of fact, the only good thing about this trip is not having to deal with my father’s bullshit for a prolonged period of time. Maybe I will thank him, after all.


Find out more about Parker releasing September 22nd – Add it to your TBR

Pinterest ->



Oliver Parker is a narcissistic a$$hole—vain, self-absorbed, conceited, and egotistical.
And those are his better qualities.
He takes what he wants, and he wants me.
Only, I don’t want to be had. Not ever and not by him.
When fate puts the hotel heir in the perfect position to get his way, my only choice is to give him what he wants.
But I’ll spend my nights with Parker fantasizing about his demise.




MIRAGE has a FREE prequel and it’s coming out on June 8th!!!
ILLUSIONS will be released two weeks prior to MIRAGE and I’m unveiling the cover for all of you today!



Being a Madame is no easy job…

I guard privacy and secrets with my own life, and I’ve never slipped up or got caught, not once.

 I don’t do long-term relationships, there’s too much at stake, but there’s something about the man I just met, something that makes me uneasy. I try to push him away, but he won’t take no for an answer…

 I’m just not sure if the red flags I’m currently seeing are real or just another Illusion…

 NOTE: This novella is a free prequel to the full-length standalone MIRAGE, that will be released on June 22nd. This novella will be included in the full-length novel once it is released. You can read it first as a free download or as a part of the novel once released.

Cover Design by Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs

Photography by Sara Eirew Photography

Models Michel Giroux and Catherine Cote


MIRAGE will be released on June 22nd and Pre-Order links will be available Shortly!!

Don’t forget to add MIRAGE to your TBR’s
TBR –>

ATIllusionsTeaser1 ATIllusionsTeaser2

Mirage Cover Reveal


Title: Mirage

Cover Design: Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs

Photographer: Sara Eirew Photography

Models: Michel Giroux & Catherine Coté

Release Date: Summer 2015



I’m the woman your husband thinks about while he’s on top of you at night…

At least, that’s how I tell the girls I hire to think.

Being an escort is no easy job, and being a madame is no easier…

I’m in the business of selling fantasies and dreams to million dollar clients, and if you think what I do is harmful to society, then think again. (If it wasn’t for me, there’d be a lot more unhappy and unproductive businessmen and a lot more drug addicted prostitutes in the world)

I guard privacy and secrets with my own life, and I’ve never slipped up or got caught, not once.

But there’s something about the man I just met, something that makes me uneasy, especially since he’s interested in me…

And he’s offering me a whole lot more than anyone ever has before…

I’m just not sure if this is a risk worth taking–if letting him into my life is the right thing, or if the red flags I’m currently seeing are real or another mirage…



Contractual Sneak Peek






Long legs straddle my lap causing me to lean back in my chair. Perfectly manicured hands graze my bare abdomen as they travel upward hooking around my neck. Her scent…something floral, which was once appealing to me, infiltrates my senses, triggering a flashback of a rather volatile romp in the bedroom that happened not even half an hour ago. Thin lips kiss me just above my jaw and a mass of platinum blond hair blocks the view of my dimly lit computer screen.

“Enough, Cecily.” I dig my fingers in her tiny waist and firmly push until she dislodges her mouth from my face. She looks up at me with a sullen face, a fake pout intended to make me feel bad, intended to make me weak.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Jackson? I haven’t seen you in quite some time. I’ve missed you, darling.” I lean back against the cool leather chair and fight the urge to roll my eyes at her.

“Why must we play this tedious game every single time?”

“What game?” She plays the part of the dumb blonde very well, too well, trying to use every trick in the book, every tool in her arsenal, to get me caught up in her web.

“The game where you pretend that this is more than what it is; that we are more than what we are.”

“I know what we are, Jackson, I’m perfectly aware of what. We. Are,” she says with a sigh. “Still, I can’t help but hope that when all is said and done, that when you get tired of the meaningless encounters and the empty sexual trysts, you’ll realize that it was me…that I was the one who lasted, the only one who you kept coming back to.”

“I come back, Cecily, because despite the fact that you are just like every other gold digger I’ve ever met, you suck the best cock and always take it exactly how I want to give it to you. And if the reason you do that is because you think that it will make me one day want you to stay for more than just a few hours, then by all means keep believing that because if you should someday get a clue, I would miss the feel of your expert mouth on my dick.”

Add to GoodReads


ARC Giveaway-

Contractual Cover Reveal


Title: Contractual

Cover Design: LM Creations

Release Date: January 2015

contractual teaser1


They told me I’d be an escort; they made it sound so easy.

Really I’m just a high priced call girl.

Desperation brought me to this and it led me to him, my one and only client.

Hating him is easy, he reminds me of my shame.

Wanting him is wrong it fills me with guilt.

Loving him is a losing battle yet it’s become everything.

A gift and a curse, he consumes my every thought and I’d rather play my part in his bed than to spend one day without him.


Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter