Synopsis
MovieStar @VaughnAsher
@FilthyBlueBird #DirtyHeaven is mine tonight.
Grace @FilthyBlueBird
@VaughnAsher I own #DirtyHeaven, bitch.
#VaughnAsherIsMyBitch
MovieStar @VaughnAsher
@FilthyBlueBird #FlashbackTime Get ready.
Grace @FilthyBlueBird
Come here and take off my lip gloss @VaughnAsher
#OnMyKneesWaiting
MovieStar @VaughnAsher
@FilthyBlueBird #Flashback to last night. Oh, you weren’t
wearing lip gloss. But you are now. #GetOnYourKneesAndWait
Grace @FilthyBlueBird
@VaughnAsher – Dabbing lips with a napkin. #ThatAllYouGot?
Finally… Grace sees me in a different light. The banter is
flirty, the sex is fun, and the future looks fabulous.I just hope she feels the
same way when she finds out what I did.
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Excerpt
“You’re having social media withdrawal?”
“Mmmm,” she says. Her hand dips down to my hard cock and I
smile. She doesn’t want to leave, she just feels obligated to spend time being
herself. And that’s not a hard wish to grant in our fairytale land.
“So play Dirty Heaven here.”
“Here?” She looks around quickly. “Oh God, I’d be way too
embarrassed.”
“Why, because all your tweets are about me?”
“That, and if they know I’m with you, and they will, they
will torment you relentlessly.”
My hand slips up to her breast and I pinch her nipple. Not
hard, but forcefully, making her squeal a little. “So let them. You can guard
my honor.”
That makes her snort. “I have to be honest, for the last
three years my Dirty Heaven nights have been all about you. Now what do I tweet
about?”
“Ah,” I say as my hand dips down between her legs. “I see
the problem. You don’t want to make any promises you can’t keep.”
She giggles against my chest.
“Just call up Bebe, once we’re finished fucking, of course,
and chat with her all you want. Take selfies on the lazy river. Get drunk with
her on the phone. Fucking Skype, for all I care. Spend the whole day with Bebe,
but please, Grace. Do it from here. It’s not time to go home yet.” She’s silent
for a few moments and I have a little wave of panic. “Unless you really don’t
want to spend the weekend with me?”
“No,” she says immediately. “That’s not it at all.”
I flip her over, straddle her ass, my hard cock pressed
against the slit of her pussy, and I lean into her neck and give her a small
bite that makes her buck underneath me. “Then it’s settled. You stay here. I
fuck you until you’re sore. Then I’ll share you with Bebe and the rest of the
Filthy Blue Birds.” She turns her head and I immediately go in for a kiss. “Is
that a deal, sweets?”
“I don’t have any clothes. You only got me that one outfit
for yesterday.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. This is a clothes-free zone. You
have to be naked. Sorry, that’s just how it is.”
Follow - Book 1
Like - Book 2
Block - Book 3
Amazon - B & N - Kobo - iTunes
And Introducing
Profile - Book 5
Synopsis
All
the best fairytale princesses have the most horrific pasts. Mine just happens
to be more horrific than most.
Fantasizing
over Vaughn Asher was a dream. Meeting Vaughn Asher was a fairytale. Loving
Vaughn Asher was my downfall.
The
past is always there. Waiting. Waiting to expose you. Waiting to ruin you.
Waiting to take you back.
Sometimes
not even a prince can save you.
Pre-Order Link
About the Author
J. A. Huss likes to write new adult books that make you
think and keep you guessing. Her favorite genre to read is space opera, but
since practically no one reads those books, she writes new adult science
fiction, paranormal romance, contemporary romance, urban fantasy, and books
about Junco (who refuses to be saddled with a label).
She has an undergraduate degree in horses, (yes,
really–Thank you, Colorado State University) and a master’s degree in forensic
toxicology from the University of Florida. She used to have a job driving
around Colorado doing pretty much nothing but shooting the breeze with farmers,
but now she just writes, runs the New Adult Addiction and Clean Teen Reads Book
Blogs, and runs an online science classroom for homeschoolers.
Giveaway
I like the cover of Profile. His face, his stare... There's just something about it that grabs my attention.
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