Tuesday, March 7, 2017


































Stolen by the Arziani Georgian crime mob as a child, 152 was raised and conditioned to be a Mona—the most subservient of the Arziani Blood Pit slaves.

Gorgeous and kind, she has been and under the imprisoning influence of the Type B drug and under the command of the Blood Pit Master’s sister, Mistress Arziani, for most of her life, until the Master calls her back home to Georgia.

He wants her under his total control, and Master always gets what he wants.

But when 152 is gifted to the Blood Pit’s fearsome champion death match fighter as a prize, 152 suddenly finds out that the men who appear most brutal, may just own the kindest hearts. And love may be found, even when living in hell.

Freedom, family, love, 152 will have to fight for what she wants and ultimately make an impossible choice.










LUKA
“The real world isn’t ready to handle our reality. How could they accept that the gulags, the drugs, and the Blood Pit are real? It is the stuff of nightmares. How could they believe that males are being raised as killers, for sport and greed?
“Worse, it would surely implicate the Bratva and my people in too many ways. We can fight the police and the system here in our city, but we can’t take on the whole world.” Zaal shrugged and tapped the map of the Blood Pit. “We need a way in. We need a solid plan, and we need it fast. I won’t have our freedom jeopardized. I won’t have what I’ve found with my Talia taken away from me, after being without her all of these years.” He raised his brow. “And we know you won’t give up Kisa. We need to act, Luka, and we need to do it soon.”
Lifting the glass of water sitting beside me, I brought it to my lips and drained it in one motion. Zaal stood up. As he passed by, he pressed his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t move until I heard him leaving my house with Talia, who had been sitting with Kisa.
Pushing back from the table, I got to my feet and walked down the hallway. In the living room, Kisa was waiting for me on the couch, hand lying on her swollen stomach.
She took one look at me, her face sympathetic. Silently, she held out her hand. I took it in an instant and dropped to the couch beside her. Kisa fell against my chest and her hand landed on my stomach.
She didn’t say anything. Once I’d fought through my pride, I admitted, “I can’t see a way to defeat Arziani.” The minute I had confessed what was torturing my mind, a heavy weight lifted from my chest.
Kisa froze, then tilted up her chin to meet my eyes. I stared down at my beautiful wife and sighed. “They run a damn fortress, solnyshko. Arziani seems insane from what Valentin has said. He’s deluded, thinks he’s some kind of king, some Roman Caesar. The king of his prisoners. Males, just like me, he drugs them and forces them to fight on until they die. Kids plucked from families and or- phanages, made into his monsters.”
I ran my hand over my tired eyes and asked, “How the hell do we stop him? How do we even breach his Blood Pit?”
Kisa sat up and brought her face to hover above mine. “You’ll find a way, baby. I trust you, we all do.”
I shook my head. “And that’s the problem,” I said harshly. “Everyone expects me to work this out. Everyone expects me to find a way in and execute a plan to bring Arziani down.” I pressed my hand to Kisa’s pregnant stomach, to our baby she was carrying. “But more than that, I need this Arziani to be fucking killed. I need to cut off the head of the snake. Everything, everything we have all been through starts with Arziani. The gulags, his contact with the Durovs. Levan Jakhua worked with Arziani, using Anri and Zaal as his prototypes. Then we found out how he keeps so hidden—by using drugged killers as assassins. They take out anyone who is a threat.”
Kisa blinked, then blinked again when what I was saying hit home. “You believe he’s coming for us. You believe that now we know about him, he’ll send another Valentin.” Her words were not a question. Because she knew what she said was exactly what I’d been thinking.
An ache caved in my chest, and I leaned in to run my lips over hers. “If he came for you. If someone took you away from me . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Stop,” Kisa said, moving back to press her finger over my lips. I took her hand in mine. My mind took me back to the gulag.
I could still smell the dankness of the cells. I could still smell the richness of the blood spilled hourly in the ring. I could still feel the heavy veil of death that draped us all, waiting to strike, waiting to deliver another soul to hell.
“Luka, lyubov moya, come back to me.”
I gasped as I heard Kisa’s soft voice cut through the memory. I tightened my grip on her hand. Once again I looked down to her stomach. My teeth clenched together, then I said, “I have to find a way to take him down. I can’t, I won’t, have our baby brought into this world knowing that the male who condemned me, us all, to that life is still breathing, still stealing children from homes, forc- ing them to be killers.”
A tear escaped Kisa’s eye to fall to our clasped hands. “Luka,” she whispered, “this man scares me more than anything else in the world.”
Dropping my forehead to rest against hers, I replied, “That’s another reason why he needs to be put out of our misery. I want our version of a normal life. I want this Bratva life with you, with my new brothers and our families. But as long as that prick lives, it can never happen.” I paused. My hand, still on Kisa’s stomach, felt a tiny kick.
My eyes darted to my wife’s stomach. Kisa laughed a single watery laugh. She covered my hand with her own, just as our baby kicked again.
Leaning forward, Kisa pressed her lips to mine. When she pulled back and I saw the love she had for me written on her stun- ning face, I knew I had to remedy the Arziani problem quickly.
I had two months until our child came into this world. What that world would look like depended on me.
A world free from any threat to our lives. That meant Arziani dead.
His guards slaughtered.
And the Blood Pit burned to ash.


















Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.

After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.

Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.

Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.

When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.


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Hold Me Down
Sara Taylor Woods
Publication date: March 28th 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Talia Benson has always been independent, unafraid to go after what she wants, regardless of setback, injury, or failure. But between her father’s conditional tuition payments and her mother’s nagging concern over her emotional state, Talia’s suffocating.
So when Talia meets doctoral student Sean Poole, she can’t figure out why she wants him to control her. Why she wants him to boss her around. Why she wants him to hurt her.
Talia learns the hard way that not all control is created equal, and sometimes submitting is the most empowering thing in the world.


Author Bio:
Sara writes erotic romance and dark contemporary fantasy. Her stories have been included in romance, erotica, and horror anthologies. When she’s not writing, she’s wrangling her two bouncing dogs, mainlining coffee, or working out. She lives in South Carolina with her husband.
Sara is represented by Lana Popović of Chalberg & Sussman.

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Title: Cold as Ice
Series: Tempered Steel #6
Author: Maggie Adams
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: March 7, 2017



Blurb

He wants her to be his lover…she wants to be his forever. 

Nick Coalson is abrasive, arrogant, and an absolute dynamo in the bedroom. Problem is, he knows it.

Rebecca Morgan is sweet, shy, and immensely attracted to Nick, but he's trouble in tight jeans and she knows it.

When Nick saves Rebecca from an assassin’s bullet, he sets his sights on the shy partner of a detective agency. But he mistakes her kindness for weakness, and learns the hard way that although she may seem submissive, she’s a voluptuous bundle of intelligence and determination.

Rebecca tries to hide her feelings for Nick because he’s the kind of man that makes a smart girl do stupid things. After a sensual encounter, Nick grows distant, stating he wants a lover, not a wife. Rebecca realizes she’s going to need to keep her wits about her if she wants Nick forever because it’s too easy to lose herself to his dominant personality. 

When a stranger offers to help her win Nick back, she accepts although she wonders what’s in it for him. But Nick thinks it’s too late for his love when he witnesses a tender moment between Rebecca and another man. His head tells him to step aside, but his heart aches for her tender touch.

And as the killer closes in on the Coalson family, Nick wonders if it will be too late to save not only their love, but their very lives?





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Excerpt

“Hello, Jonas! How lovely to see you. I didn’t know you were back in town.” She offered her hand in greeting.

“Good afternoon, my lovely Rebecca.” He took her hand but lowered his head and kissed her cheek. “I couldn’t resist stopping by to see how you and your Nick are recovering from your adventure.”

Rebecca shot him a sly grin. “I’m flattered we entertained a thought from you, Jonas, but I have a feeling you know exactly what’s going on with everyone who crosses your path.”

He laughed. “Ah, there’s that sassy wit Noah has told me about. I’m glad you are back to your old self, not that you weren’t beauty and grace personified in my presence.” He winked.

Rebecca blushed at the reminder she had met him nearly naked. “Please have a seat, Jonas. Can I offer you something?”

When he simply stared at her, she felt the blush intensify. “That, my dear, is a loaded question, but I’ll leave it alone. You’re about to go up in flames as it is. I wonder why that might be?” He gifted her with a slow sexy grin, then chuckled as he placed a hand upon her back, leading her to the seated reception area.

He could probably feel her pulse race, Rebecca surmised. She was no match for his sexual play. “How can I help you, Jonas?”

“I believe I can help you, love. Noah says there’s a bit of tension between you and Nick. I’d like to be of assistance if I can.”

Rebecca eyed him with embarrassed curiosity. “I didn’t know you were into matchmaking.”

His eyes narrowed. “Curb the brat, love or I’ll give you the discipline you so obviously desire.”

She bristled at his tone, but he simply chuckled. “See? You’re practically begging me to spank you. It’s all over your body language. Nick needs to take a firmer hand with you.”

“I’m not sure what gave you the impression that I enjoy a good spanking or that my attitude is any of your business.” My God, what was wrong with her? She was acting like the brat he accused her of being.

“Knees, Rebecca. Now.”

Her independence warred with her submissive self. She was torn. This man’s tone brooked no interference.

“Now!”

She fell out of the chair and onto her knees, eyes lowered immediately. Dammit, how did he do that?

“Becca! Get the hell up!”

She heard the furious shout and hastily threw herself back into the chair. Nick’s order took precedence in her mind.

She glanced up in time to see Nick’s fist fly toward Jonas’ face. It was caught in the older man’s hand, so Nick threw the other fist. He was abruptly knocked to his butt when Jonas swept both legs out from under him with a precise kick. “Calm down. I was making a point.”

Both Nick and Rebecca looked at him in shock.

Jonas shook his head. “Both of you have to learn to trust; to communicate; to admit your mutual attraction and go from there. Or this D/s relationship is doomed to fail.”

“We don’t have a relationship.” Rebecca whispered. “I wasn’t what he needed.”

“That’s not true!” Nick stammered. “I wasn’t what you needed, Rebecca. I know that.”

Jonas looked at Nick. “Explain.”

Rebecca watched as Nick’s face closed down. “None of your damn business, Blackshire. I want to know what the hell you were doing forcing Rebecca to her knees?”

“I want her. She’s just stated that you don’t, so she’s open to play.”

“I am not!” Rebecca stammered. “I didn’t…I don’t know why I…” she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

“So you do belong to Nick?”

She felt the tears fall. She lowered her eyes, unable to look at either man as she told the sad truth. “No.”

“Yes.” Nick hissed, coming to his feet, facing Jonas. “She is mine and I’ll fucking kill you if try this shit again, Jonas. I don’t give a damn if you saved my life or not.”



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#1 Whistlin’ Dixie
#2 Leather and Lace
#3 Something’s Gotta Give
#4 Love, Marriage & Mayhem
#5 Forged in Fire


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Author Bio


Maggie Adams is an Amazon Best Selling contemporary romance author. Her first book in the Tempered Steel Series, Whistlin’ Dixie, debuted in Amazon’s Top 100 for Women’s Fiction, humor, on November, 2014 and then again at #61 in 2016. Since then, she has consistently made the Amazon best seller 5-star list with Leather and Lace, Something’s Gotta Give, Love, Marriage & Mayhem, and Forged in Fire. She is also the recipient of the Dayreader Review’s Best New Series Award for 2015. Her series has launched the tiny town of Grafton, Illinois, into International recognition with sales in Mexico, Ireland, Scotland, Australia and the UK.



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Title: A Cowboy for Mary
Series: Hearts of Gold #3
Author: Lizabeth Scott
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Release Date: March 7, 2017



Blurb

From author, Lizabeth Scott comes the long waited for third and final book in the contemporary romantic comedy series, Hearts of Gold. 

Rose married the man of her dreams, Sheik Rashid, after a rocky start with a totally unexpected "special arrival."

Annie found her soulmate in the brilliantly talented music star, Carter Ryan. 

Finally, it’s Mary’s turn! 

Mary is known as the determined and single-minded sister who always had her sights set on a career in New York City. That’s how her family knew her. That’s what they expected. Funny thing about expectations…

Never in her life had Mary Gold met such a perplexing and utterly mouthwatering man.

Stranded in the blazing hot sun of Able, Texas, the swoon-worthy cowboy rode up on his golden steed and rescued her from becoming a puddle on the deserted road. The man of her dreams then turned into an insulting jerk at any and every opportunity! If her very existence irritated him, why did he keep coming around? And why did her day seem a little brighter when he did?

Ethan knew her type all too well–high maintenance and with an agenda that would end up costing him dearly. Been there, done that, and had the scars of betrayal to prove it.

His little daffodil represented everything he detested yet he found her gorgeous and adorable and she smelled as good as all those silly flower names he called her. He should have dropped her off in town and never looked back, but he couldn’t seem to stay away.

No matter how hard he tried, avoiding her wasn't working. There was only one thing to do; send her back where she came from, and take temptation far, far away! So, why did he turn in the opposite direction and take her back to his place?

The fly in the ointment ... appearances can be deceiving.





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Author Bio


Who is Lizabeth Scott? A voracious reader and a full-time writer for about 4 months! Liz is a wife and mother of two grown children and the proud grandma of the sweetest little baby ever. She is the personal assistant to a terrier terror named Moxie who she occasionally takes to the drive-through for a burger. Liz is a Carolina girl who loves sand between her toes as frequently as possible. At the prompting of a friend Liz began living her dream of writing in 2013 and is now the author of The Royal Vow Series, The Hearts of Gold Series, The Dirty Ankle Series and The Love Kissed Series.

Liz loves to connect with readers and invites you to join her on FACEBOOK, TWITTER, PINTEREST, and INSTAGRAM. Be the first to hear about updates and get your hands on free bonus chapters by joining Liz’s NEWSLETTER. Be sure to stop by her WEBSITE and browse through all her books.



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BLUSH FOR ME - header banner  

From New York Times Bestselling author Kristen Proby, comes a steamy new standalone romance in her bestselling Fusion Series

 

BLUSH FOR ME!

  BLUSH FOR ME - Cover

About BLUSH FOR ME:

New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby continues to delight the senses with the latest novel in her delectable Fusion series.

As the take-charge wine bar manager of Seduction, Portland's hottest new restaurant, Katrina Meyers is the definition of no-nonsense, and she isn't afraid of anything. Well, almost anything: she hates to fly. When she's forced to travel on a death trap with wings, the turbulence from hell has her reaching for any safe haven—including the incredibly handsome guy sitting next to her.

Ryan "Mac" MacKenzie hasn't been able to get his sexy seatmate out of his head. The way she clung to him stirred something inside him he didn't think existed: tenderness. As the owner of a successful wine touring company, Mac thinks he's got a handle on what life can throw at him and he's not prepared for any surprises, especially in the feelings department. And when he brings a tour into Seduction, he sees the petite spitfire he just can't forget. Mac is determined to discover what else they have in common besides fine wine and the inability to keep their hands off each other. But what will it take for two stubborn people to realize that what they have is so much more than a hot chemistry between the sheets and to admit to falling in love…?  

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    BlushForMeShareImg     EXCERPT: “Have you flown before, Kat?” “No.” I swallow hard and tighten my hands into fists. “Okay, take a deep breath,” he says. He’s not touching me, which is good because I’d have to break his nose, and this is already stressful enough. But his voice is soothing. “Good. Take another one. Miss, can we get a bottle of water, please?” I just keep breathing. The flight attendant returns with a little baby bottle of water, which Mac uncaps and holds out for me. “Take a drink of this. Just a small sip.” I comply, the cold water feeling good on my throat. I feel ridiculous. This flight is full of people who are not having panic attacks. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “This is my biggest fear.” “I can tell,” he says gently, and I raise my gaze to meet his. He’s a handsome guy, his short hair styled nicely, his jaw firm, eyes direct. He’s tall, with long arms and legs and a lean body. “How are you feeling? “Better,” I reply, surprised to find it true. “The water helped. Thank you.” “No problem. Are you going to Napa Valley on vacation?” “Work,” I reply, shaking my head. “I’m attending a conference.” “So you’re a wine enthusiast then?” “You could say that,” I reply with a smile. “I own a wine bar in Portland.” His eyes narrow for just a moment. “Really? Which one?” “The one inside Seduction.” “I’ve heard great things about that place.” I smile widely now, intensely proud of the restaurant that my four friends and I have built from the ground up. Seduction is our baby, our pride and joy. “That’s nice to hear,” I reply. “You’ve never been?” “Not yet, but I’ll make a point to go the next time I’m in the area.” So he doesn’t live in Portland. Bummer. Mac is one guy I wouldn’t mind running into again.     ShowMeYourBlush- graphic  

"Wicked hot, charming, and wittingly captivating. Kristen Proby made me blush several times reading this sexy love story."

~Audrey Carlan, #1 NYT Bestselling Author

   
    BlushForMe_RDL_Teaser_1     Author Pic - Kristen ProbyAbout Kristen Proby: New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves. Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.        

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Title: Outlaw: Part 1
Series: Harrison Street Crew #2
Author: Katana Collins
Genre: Gritty Erotic Romance
Release Date: March 7, 2017



Blurb

Worse than bad. Hotter than hot. These are the bad boys of the Harrison Street Crew, and they answer to no one. They take what they want. And what they want is you.

Patrick Flanagan lives outside the law. The cops don’t like him. The law doesn’t trust him. He may come at you with a charm and a handsome smile, but make no mistake—he’s as reckless and bad as they come. But when a total bombshell with stilettos and a power suit comes blazing into his life, this bad boy is about to be so, so good… 

Ambitious lawyer Michelle Chiccarini vowed like hell she is going to do her best to prosecute as many criminals as she could. Even if that means trying to put away Patrick Flanagan, a man who can make her pulse quicken and fill her head with dirty, wicked thoughts just by looking at him. She’s got to put him behind bars. But how can she do that, when she can’t even resist his touch?

Patrick Flanagan won’t go to jail. Not when he’s got a woman as gorgeous as Michelle aching for his every touch and pushing his lust for her past the boiling point. Even though she’s a lawyer tasked with putting him in prison, he can’t stay away from her. Michelle is falling fast and hard for Patrick, but is he guilty? Or is he innocent? She wants to trust her bad boy from the streets, but is he telling the truth?







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Releasing March 14

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Releasing March 21

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Excerpt

Chapter One

Four Months Later

Patrick Flanagan came to quickly. Or at least, he thought it was quickly. His head was resting on the steering wheel, his shoulders and chest slumping forward like dead weight. He blinked awake. What happened? Where am I?

Brushing his fingers over the ram like symbol at the center of the wheel, he glanced around, eyes darting back and forth. He wasn't in his car; his Pantera. Why wasn't he in his own car? He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard. The memory slammed into him, hard and fast. Oh, that's right... he stole this one. Some poor unsuspecting fool's Toyota that they left running in the parking lot of a Hannaford. When will people ever learn? Leaving the car running is to a car thief what an unattended t-bone is to a stray dog. It was irresistible. An invitation to steal it. A big fat target with flashing lights that said: Take me! I'm easy!

Red and blue lights streaked into Patrick's car. Two cop cars were just now rolling to a stop behind him. The cops were just pulling up, so he couldn't have been out that long. Breathing deeply, he pulled himself together, wincing as he pushed himself off the wheel and sat straight up.

What the hell caused him to wreck?

He backtracked the evening's events—the meeting between Harrison Street Crew and Sauceda's Crew. He wasn't at the meeting though. He was the decoy if cops came into the area. He saw the cruiser and took off to distract them, pull them away from the docks and it worked like a charm. Until—oh yeah. That's what happened. A fucking cat darted across the road or... hell, for all he knew it could have been a raccoon. And going sixty on a 35mph back road, he swerved, smashing into a post office box. He must have knocked himself out.

Waiting, he watched in the mirror as the cops in one cruiser jumped out of their car, holding their guns out. Shouting some nonsense about getting out of the vehicle.

Thank God he'd thought to choose to steal a car with tinted windows; they couldn't make out his face. And so he smiled at them in the reflection, knowing they couldn't see a damn thing. They couldn't see his HSC vest or who he was or even that he was flipping them off.

Wiping at the blood trickling down the side of his face, he gave it another few seconds. The second cruiser wasn't getting out. They were the smarter cops.

“Okay girl,” he whispered, brushing his hand over the steering wheel. “Sorry to do this to you, but we don't have a choice.” Hopefully this Toyota's tires were okay... because if not? They were about to find out the hard way.

Punching into reverse, Patrick backed off the Southie curb, tires squealing as he slammed the clutch with his foot and put the car in gear.

He took off, leaving the officers with guns pointed at him scrambling like Keystone Cops. The cruiser that was smart enough to leave their engine running took off after him. The night air cut in through the sun roof blowing his curls wildly around his face and providing a much needed coolness to his sweat-damp strands. Felt fucking great.

The blue and red lights hit against the reflective rearview mirror, nearly blinding him. He pushed harder and could smell the smoke of the engine, but at least it seemed the tires were holding up. Those damn police lights wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't been trying to push up to eighty miles an hour in the curvy back roads of Southie. But at that speed? A momentary flash of lights blinding you in the mirrors could result in your car wrapped around a telephone pole.

Oh, wait, he thought chuckling to himself. Been there, done that.

Instead of slowing down, Patrick tightened his grip on the steering wheel and squinting through distraction and the headache pulsing at his temples, he pressed even harder into the gas pedal. He had a job to do; one job tonight to accomplish for Rig and the Harrison Street Crew. And that was to intercept any cops in the area and get them as far from the docks as he could—then get back to Megan's Pub in time for the money drop off.

And pray to God that the two tasks don't get in the way of each other.

He turned up his radio, Black Betty blaring through the speakers and he couldn't help the little smile that tipped at the corner of his mouth.

This shit was fun. No way around that. Even if he got caught, there was an exhilaration to the getaway. One that pumped adrenaline through his veins so fast that he could practically feel the chemical change taking affect.

The blue and red flashing lights were gaining on him, the two headlights nearly kissing his bumper. But that was the plan. Keep them with him until they were out of the vicinity.

Maneuvering around the other cars on the road was always the hardest. Slow pokes sticking to the 35mph speed limit—good for them. Patrick slid from right lane to left grabbing the small bag of pop rocks he'd left in the cup holder and pouring a bunch into his mouth as a distraction to the blood dripping from the cut on his head and the pounding headache.

The sizzle of retro hard candy and sugar just increased his pulse as the on-ramp to I-93 came into view.

This was it. “Come on piggies—time to huff and puff,” he said to himself with another glance in the rearview mirror. Then, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator jolting forward with an additional 15mph. Not so fast that they couldn't keep up... but time to get down to business.

A 16-wheeler was in the right lane of the highway moving slow enough to be a problem, but fast enough that Patrick couldn't get off the on-ramp without hitting the brakes. With the cops on his ass? Hitting the brakes was not something he wanted to do.

“Shit,” Patrick muttered and nervous sweat trickled down his neck. Instead of sliding into the proper lane, Patrick stayed where he was, the car lurching as the on ramp turned into a texturized shoulder of the highway. Vibrations rumbled beneath his ass as he overtook the truck and abruptly swerved in front of it and just behind a Volvo.

The right lane was packed with cautious drivers slowing down at the sound of the police sirens; that's what responsible citizens do... they pull over. Slow down.

The good news was that the left lane was wide open.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Patrick slid into the left lane and the cop had fallen back a few cars behind the truck. A cakewalk, Patrick thought.

He dipped under the tunnel funneling him from South End Boston taking him right into downtown. Something—someone would be waiting for him on the other side of that tunnel.

He just didn't know what yet.

Up ahead, the light from the edge of the tunnel came into view growing larger and larger. The cop tailing him hung back... still close enough to follow, but significantly slowing down.

A second siren ahead of him echoed in the distance. He exited the tunnel, traffic beside him slowing and stopping at the sounds of sirens and lights coming up behind them.

He zipped beyond the tunnel, back out into Boston Center. From the next exit's on-ramp, he could see another cruiser entering the highway.

Reinforcements. A high speed chase in the middle of Boston wasn't something the police overlooked. Not with the tense political climate these days and with Jeremy Chiccarini actively trying to eradicate the car clubs from Boston.

If I can smoke one cruiser, I can smoke two.

Except, this cruiser up ahead wasn't attempting to chase him; it was staying to the side... off the road and blocking the shoulder. Glancing in the rearview, he noticed the cop behind him had slowed down even more. Still on his tail, but much further off in the distance, the blue and red lights little pinpricks in the dark night.

Up ahead he heard the whomp of a helicopter and a quick glance confirmed that it was not a news helicopter, but a police air monitor. Something was up. They had a plan.

Patrick chewed on what was left of the Pop Rocks in his mouth, enjoying the crunch as he thought hard.

No one was on the road up ahead—his tires. They must be trying to take out his tires. And that's why the cruiser was blocking the shoulder, so that he couldn't go around whatever they had set up.

Well, shit. This wasn't good. Every exit was blocked leading up to the tire blowers and he was already two exits beyond where he was supposed to get off, heading toward North End now.

Patrick eased off the gas, slowing down. Tension was palpable in the air and he could see the cops positioned, guns ready from behind the car. The off ramp was just beyond the road block and they had barricaded the other ramp, cutting off civilian access to the highway.

Once he had slowed down enough, Patrick gripped the E-brake and with a deep breath and quick Hail Mary, he yanked it, spinning the car in the opposite direction. The flow of traffic behind him was at a crawl, staying far behind the scene and the cop that was on his tail continued its advance; this time face on. Shoving into fourth gear, Patrick accelerated once more, heading in the opposite direction of the highway flow and directly toward the flashing lights and headlights of the cop. It was a daring game of chicken, but one he knew he'd win. They had no idea if he was armed and shooting at him wasn't an option.

He picked up speed, just above seventy; not too crazy. In his rearview mirrors, he saw the cops that had set up the barricade, scrambling to get into their car and chase him the other way. The helicopter over head, stayed just above him.

Perfect. Fast enough to cause alarm; but not so fast he would lose control.

Two thousand feet from the cop. One thousand. And as he hit jut a few hundred feet, he pulled the ebrake again, turning into the cove between the north and south highways where cops wait to pull you over. The tires screeched beneath him and he could only imagine the damage he was doing to this poor Toyota. A cop was waiting for him there, just as he had anticipated—but with Patrick going sixty in that turn and the cop standing still, it didn't stand a chance.

Patrick slammed into the stagnant cop's back bumper and turned onto the opposite highway, going in the other direction on I93, back with the flow of traffic.

No tire popping road blocks there. And as suspected, the cruisers following him couldn't handle such a fast and unexpected turn.

Two down, one to go, he thought looking to the sky where the helicopter still tailed him. He took the next exit, sliding off it easily and though still speeding, he was cautious not to go too fast. Sticking about twenty above the speed limit. He was certain that on the police radio, they were calling in other cruisers to cut him off ahead. Patrick snaked his way through the city, traffic taking its toll on his speed and he dodged, weaving in and out of the right and left lanes while also taking unexpected turns that were completely unpredictable.

Though it took twice as long, he finally pulled up to a parking garage in the Government Center. He slammed into the red and white arm that was supposed to make you stop and take a ticket, cracking the damn thing right in half. Completely covered from the helicopter, he breathed a little easier as he raced up the ramp, curving around until he reached the third floor of the parking garage, safely out of view. He could hear the sirens behind him; the additional cruisers knowing just where he was pulling up. There was no time to fuck around. He didn't even bother sliding the stolen car into a parking spot. Pulling his baseball hat lower over his eyes, he grabbed the rest of the Pop Rocks in his gloved hand, a few spilling onto the driver's seat as he climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Peeling his vest off, he shoved it into a messenger bag he carried and straightened his REO Speedwagon t-shirt, thankful that it wasn't a Celine Dion concert that night at the Government Center. Walking quickly but casually, he made it to the elevator, one by one hitting the fire alarms along the way.

A roar of panic swept around him and below him at the government center as he stepped off the elevator into the sea of people exiting the concert. Fear and anxiety was a potent force and the crowd wasn't walking anymore—they were running toward the exits. Half of them flooded the garage toward their cars to escape, the other half went to the train station or just straight ahead; anywhere to get to safety. Patrick kept pace with the crowd until he reached his car; his Pantera which he had parked in a dirt lot outside of the concert earlier that day. He slipped the attendant a twenty dollar bill and casually climbed inside, peeling his gloves off and tucking them in the dashboard.

It was going to take Patrick forever to get back to Southie, especially with all these road blocks. But if he kept to the speed limit and didn't get pulled over, he should make it to Megan's Pub in plenty of time to finish the drop off for Rig and the club.

He smiled, the exhilaration of the chase causing a series of excited shivers convulsing his body. Pulling out his burner phone, he texted Rig—his boss and President of HSC, his car club; his family. His home.

All's well. No more cops should be wasting time near the docks tonight.

It only took a moment for Rig's response to come in:

Good. Get your ass back to Southie. Deal is taking longer than I thought to secure, but I want you at Megan's ready and waiting.

“Aye, aye, boss,” Patrick said with a mock salute to the phone. Then texted confirmation that he was on his way before he slid his vest back on and made his way back down to Southie.

And the night's only begun, he thought.




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Author Bio


Katana Collins is lucky enough to love her day job almost as much as she loves writing. She splits her time evenly between photographing boudoir and newborn portraits and writing steamy romances in a variety of genres -- paranormal, contemporary, new adult and suspense.

She bounces between living in New York and Portland, Maine, with an ever-growing brood of rescue animals: a kind of mean cat, a very mellow chihuahua, and a very not mellow lab puppy... oh yeah, there's a husband somewhere in that mix, too. She can usually be found hunched over her laptop in a cafe, guzzling gallons of coffee, and wearing fabulous (albeit sometimes impractical) shoes.



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