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Brodie and Ashe are on opposite sides of the law. She's a cop and he is VP of the MC. They have a past and he can't stand her because of what happened to his family which he blames her for. Then they meet up at Bike Week and everything changes. They share some scorching hot borderline porn moments together that will take more than an iceberg to cool you off after reading. Seriously. Freakin' hot. Something more is there than just the sex, but both agree that what happens at Bike Week stays there. Well until they get home anyway. They can't stay away from each other and I am so glad. They are fantastic together and I absolutely loved their story.
I give Steele Into Your Heart 5 hearts!
Brodie Steele is a badass MC dude. Ashe Kingston is a sexy police officer with an attitude. Their bad blood runs deep. But after they hook up at a wild biker week, can they keep their pact? What happens at Bike Week stays at Bike Week. Yeah, right.
Riding out the rough years following a family tragedy, Brodie is still trying to put his life back together when he finds something he never expected with Ashe. She annoys the ever lovin’ hell out of him, and turns him on so much he can’t see straight. He keeps coming back for more.
Ashe isn’t just a hard-nosed police officer. And she wants no part of Brodie outside of their no-strings-attached fling. There’s no way he’s settling-down material but he’s hard to resist with his inked sleeves and rebellious ways, not to mention piercings in places that make Ashe melt. Brodie Steele is dangerous, delicious, and suddenly determined to have her.
If there’s anything more risky than laying his heart on the line for this sexy woman, it’s Ashe’s job. It puts her life in danger in a way he can’t possibly protect her from. Can their hot bond win out over the bad blood of years past? Or will Ashe be taken from Brodie before she lets him into her heart?
Steele, Into Your Heart Excerpt © Rie Warren 2015
I tossed my phone through the open window of my Chevy, opened the door,
and stowed Ashe inside.
Before I shut her in, I leaned over to brush my mouth against hers,
plunging my tongue to swirl inside her wet heat.
When I got in the driver’s side she turned to me. “We’re getting the
seats wet.”
“You can take off your dress right now if you want.” I grinned in what
had to be an absolutely unwholesome way.
She sat back with a shaky laugh. Ashe was flustered. She was almost never
flustered. I really liked it.
I put the truck in gear and we roared out of the parking lot. I probably
left tire marks on the tar. Windows down for the fresh air but A/C on because
it was still blazing hot outside, Ashe and I sped along Isle of Palms toward
Sullivan’s Island wrapped in a bubble of sexual tension so tight it was close
to bursting.
Not a single word was said because the next thing to come out of my mouth
would be, “Clothes, off, now.”
My legs were so tense they nearly shook. I held the steering wheel with a
white knuckled grip. I usually drove the way any good country boy did, with one
wrist used to steer. Not tonight. Not when
Ashe fidgeted next to me, plucking at the top of her dress. It quickly
suctioned back to her breasts. Not helping, but oh so sexy. Pornographic sexy.
It was fully dark fifteen minutes later when I pulled into my driveway. I
helped Ashe out, grabbed her bags, took her hand, and ushered her to the big
front porch.
“This is your house? And I thought you said mine was fancy. You’ve got a
river view from here, Brodie.”
Gas lanterns on either side of the cheery red door blazed, the sweltering
night absent of any breeze the porch swing sat still. Tremendous hanging
baskets flowered like crazy.
“Parents’ house. Well, it was. Let’s not talk about that now.” After I
set her bags down, I fingered the hem of her dress, lifting it up her thighs.
“Take it off.”
“Brodie, no. We’re standing on your porch,” Ashe protested.
“I’ll cut off the lights.”
“Public indecency.”
“Arrest me already.”
I shut the lights off, and heard the wet slap of her dress on the porch
floor. I dropped my suit—what was left of it—where I stood. There was a whisper
of something light floating to the floor—her bra and panties. My belt buckle
made a clanging noise. Ashe’s breath hitched as my eyes adjusted to the
darkness.
Curves, glorious curves, illuminated by moonlight. I touched a puckered
nipple then circled it with my thumb. With my other hand, I gave a long slow
stroke up my swollen cock.
When she whimpered, I moved fast. I pushed her against the door face
first, caging her with my body from behind.
“Oh my God,” she moaned.
I sent my lips over her shoulder and up to her ear. “Oh my God, Brodie. Say it.”
“I . . . I can’t!”
“Wrong words.” I stepped back to drag my pulsing cock up and down her
ass. “Know where I am right now?”
“Oh my God, Brodie!” Her voice quivered.
I caught her earlobe between my teeth and let it go. Holding her hips
against me, I ran my dick up and down her cleft several times, loving the
curves of her ass nice and snug around me. “Better. Now, open the door so we
can go inside. Unless you want us to
get arrested.”
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Add to Goodreads Amazon Amazon CA Amazon UK Amazon AU |
Coming Summer 2015
Boomer Steele is big. He’s bad. He’s the Retribution MC pres. He’s been dealt the worst hand imaginable and bears the scars inside and out. Not that anyone knows it. He’s watched his younger brother and sister hook up and hitch up with the loves of their lives, and now he’s the last Steele standing alone. Maybe he should keep it that way.
Then one feisty honey makes him feel, gets in his grill, pisses him off.
She goes by the name of Rayce. And that’s exactly what she does on her motocross bike when she’s not busy getting her hands dirty with her fellow grease monkeys as the only female mechanic at Stone’s Garage. She’s into fixing bikes, racing hers, and making Boomer’s life a living hell just for the fun of it. Oh, and she hates being treated like a girl.
Sparks flying? That’s an understatement where these two are concerned. Yet when Rayce needs a place to live, and Boomer offers her a room in his house, their unquenchable attraction wins out over antagonism. Sometimes. Rayce’s crappy upbringing makes her think love is for stupid fools asking for heartbreak. She’s not willing to go there for any man. Not even Boomer Steele.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavor, the Carolina Bad Boys series, is fun, hot, and southern-sexy.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html
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