Georgia Cates's Blog, page 3

Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance

Cover Design: Indie Formatting Services

Release Date: October 20, 2017

US: http://amzn.to/2xOOxcM

BLURB

Captor becomes lover…

I’m a marksman. Mobster. Deadly assassin.
My job is to protect my brotherhood, but that isn’t my only responsibility.

I’m Kieran Hendry, the up-and-coming leader of The Order, and a new duty calls. I must take a wife.

A wife I don’t know.
A wife born into a position at the top of The Fellowship hierarchy.
A wife who will forge a strong alliance between her brotherhood and mine.
A wife I don’t want.

I knew next to nothing about Westlyn Breckenridge when I abducted her, but I quickly discover that she’s intelligent, strong, defiant, selfless. And beautiful.

One night with her is all it takes for me to see that she is no typical Mafia princess. I’m hopeful this arranged marriage won’t be the miserable union I imagined it to be. But convincing my intended to give us a chance won’t be easy when she sees me as the enemy. The brute who kidnapped her. The vile fiend who threatened to do as he wished with her body.

It’s true. I am all those things. I had cruel intentions. But everything has changed. My affection for her is unexpected. My love, unintended.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35925953-unintended

Unintended: Kieran and Westlyn's story will publish on October 20th. Cover reveal is September 6th. Sign-ups for the cover reveal and release blast will be coming soon! 
Ohhh… and this one has a pre-order.

http://amzn.to/2vzTjdj

#asinseriesstandalone #unintended #preorder

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Chapter One
Porter Beckman

Fuck, this has been one unproductive day so far. Three intern interviews this morning and not a single applicant I’d even consider as a temp while I look for someone to take the full-time graphic design and marketing position. Unless I settle for the guy who called me maaan every time he addressed me, showed up an hour late, and smelled like he had just smoked weed in the car before he came into the brewery.

Liked his designs. Hated the zero-fucks-given attitude.

I pick up the application of my one o’clock interviewee. “Frances Ameline Dawson. Sounds like someone’s grandmother.”

I scan her application and quickly discover that she’s only twenty-one years old… and not even a student. She’s already a college graduate. Shit, this girl’s confused about the position we’re offering. Which means this is another interview that will be a waste of my time; I’m not hiring a new grad for the full-time position.

I scan lower to have a look at her education; I’m curious about what someone so young could have already accomplished.

Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Alabama. Driven. 3.9 GPA. Intelligent. Recipient of the Howard B. Jones graphic design award. Talented. They don’t give that bastard to someone with mediocre skills. She must be a good artist… no, make that a damn good artist.

Miss Frances Ameline Dawson has captured my attention.

I look up when I hear Tap knock on my open door. “Hey. I’ve got to make a delivery to BCC. Want to ride out there with me and grab a late lunch afterward?”

“Love to but can’t. Got an interview in ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you had that going on today. Haven’t found anyone yet?”

“Not even close.”

“Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for soon.”

“Hope so.” I’m taking care of all the graphic design and marketing, plus working on the winter seasonal recipe with Stout. I’m up to my ass in alligators and in desperate need of someone to take up some slack.

Molly—our office manager, head of human resources, and second mom to all of us—leans around the doorway and pokes her head into my office. “Next… applicant… is… here.” Why does she sound like she’s singing a song? Is she that happy it’s the last one for the day?

Frances is early. I like that.

“I can see that you have things to do so I’m outta here,” Tap says.

Molly slides her arm around him. “Tell Lawrence I said hello and to stop being a stranger. We miss her face around this place.”

“Don’t worry, mama. I’ll tell her.”

“Are you ready for me to send her back?” Molly has this huge grin plastered across her face.

Why is she so giddy? “Send her in.”

I’m taking another glance at Miss Dawson’s application when she taps on the door. “Hey Beck.”

Beck? Well, hell. There goes any hope I had for this one acting more professional than the three I saw ahead of her this morning.

“It’s Beckman.” I lift my eyes to Frances Ameline Dawson at the same time I correct her.

Long, dark loose curls. Vivid ocean eyes. Flawless porcelain skin. White teeth behind a lovely smile.

Fuck. Me.

Gorgeous.

“Come in and have a seat.”

She and her four-inch fuck-me pumps cross my office and she lowers herself into the chair across from me, placing her black portfolio by her feet. “It’s good to see you again. Been a while, right?”

What. The. Hell?

This girl knows me.

And I have no idea who she is.

Have I fucked her? No. I would remember being between that pair of legs. Unless I was shit-faced. But even then, I don’t think I could forget this one.

Her eyes. Something about them seems familiar. But that body… I’ve never seen it before. And I’m certain I’ve never seen it naked. I would remember.

“How long has it been?” Maybe I can put the pieces together if I have some kind of time frame.

“Three years.” She’s only twenty-one. Three years ago, she’d have been eighteen. A kid. Barely legal. No way I fucked her… unless I had no idea how young she was.

Dammit. I cannot recollect Frances Ameline Dawson. Not even a little. And I really, really, really want to.

“You don’t recognize me?” Her voice is low. Childlike. Am I imagining a pang of hurt in it?

I wish I could place her. But I won’t pretend I do and risk looking like a fool. “I’m sorry, Frances. I don’t.”

“Frankee. Not Frances.”

Frankee… Frankee… Frankee Dawson? Oh, Scott’s daughter. Kiddo. I’ve known this girl since her father came to work for us when we opened Lovibond’s doors five years ago. “Kiddo.”

A broad smile spreads when I call her by the nickname I gave her years ago. “You remember.”

“Took a minute but yeah I do. In my defense, you’ve… changed.” Changed? Huge understatement. Developed. Matured. Bloomed. Blossomed. All of those would be much better word choices.

Short hair. No makeup. Baggy clothes. Straight, gangly body. Those are the things I remember about Frankee as a teenager. But no more. Kiddo is no longer a kid. She is a woman. A beautiful one.

Seems like only yesterday when she was here sweeping the warehouse and doing odd jobs around Molly’s office. Until she’d find her way to the art and marketing department. My territory.

She took an interest in what I was doing. Watched me. Asked questions. Doodled more than she swept. She was quite the little artist even back then.

I once found a crumpled sketch of a beer label in the trash when I was digging for something I had lost. I had no idea who had drawn it until I looked at the name signed in the lower right-hand corner of the page. Frankee Beckman. Not Frankee Dawson.

She was only sixteen, maybe seventeen but was apparently crushing on me since she was toying with the idea of being Mrs. Beckman. Typical behavior for a silly teenage girl. But Frankee was no typical teenage girl. She was a tomboy to the nth degree.

But not anymore.

“It’s okay that you couldn’t place me. I know I don’t look anything like I did the last time you saw me.”

“Not at all.” My eyes are tempted to leave her face and roam her body, but I force them to stay on her eyes… and full pink pouty lips.

Get on with the interview, Beckman. “You graduated from the University of Alabama in three years?”

“I did.”

Damn. That’s an accomplishment. “Impressive but why the rush?”

“The twins graduated from high school this year and they’ll be going to Alabama in the fall. My parents were going to have three kids in college at the same time if I didn’t push to finish early. I couldn’t do that to them because I wanted to take it easy.” Selflessness. A quality you don’t find in many these days.

“I’m sure Scott and Tara appreciated that.”

“It was brutal at the time but completely worth it. I can say that now that it’s over.”

It took five years for me to graduate but not because I was a slacker. Stout and I were concentrating on brewing and how we were going to build a company from nothing. Classes took a backseat to that. And I haven’t spent a single day being sorry about it.

“Let’s have a look at your portfolio.” I’m eager as fuck to see the designs of a Howard B. Jones award recipient.

She leans forward to pick up her portfolio, giving me a clear view down her blouse. Damn. She’s wearing a black lace bra. And I can’t help but wonder if the panties beneath her skirt match.

I quickly divert my eyes back to her application and remind myself that this is Frankee. Kiddo. My warehouse manager’s daughter. Having thoughts like that about her makes me a total dick.

One. Hundred. Percent.

She opens her portfolio case on the sofa and bends forward to take out her work, giving me the perfect view of her ass and legs in that skirt. So I do what men do. I look… despite knowing how dead I’d be if Scott saw me checking out his daughter.

Is Kiddo aware of what she’s doing? Or is she still so innocent that she doesn’t realize she’s presenting more than just her designs?

“This was my senior project. I consider it my best work.” I quickly divert my eyes to hers when she turns around to present her work. I hope like hell she didn’t see me ogling her ass.

“My assignment was to build a start-up business from scratch. I chose a hard cider company. My research stated that men and women are drinking cider equally so my design needed to appeal to both sexes. The cider drinker is between the ages of twenty-one and forty so I knew I needed to keep it modern and fresh.”

She removes the poster cover and it isn’t possible not to instantly be sucked into her design. The font. The colors. The artwork. They’re… perfection.

“For my advertising posters, I chose a different couple for each cider—each with a sexy, classic pinup-style girl and a devil-like man. The play on design concentrates on fruit from the Garden of Eden, depending upon the flavor of cider. The design is reminiscent of sex and sin.” Her smile deepens. “And who doesn’t love that?”

Fuck. Me.

She goes through her posters, explaining them in great detail and then the product label itself. Everything about her design, her strategy… brilliant. “I would never have thought to take this route. My man brain doesn’t function this way, but every little detail about your campaign works.”

“A sexy woman and a bad boy. No one hates that.”

“These are really great.” I’m pretty sure Tap and Lawry would pay big bucks to have these images on their cider products.

“Got an A on this project.”

“You should have gotten an A-plus-plus.” Her work is that good.

She returns to her case and takes out several foam-core posters… while bending over in front of me again. “I have lots of other beer label designs if you want to see them.”

“Absolutely.”

Ales. Stouts. Porters. Lagers. Malts. There must be at least twenty-five labels here for all different styles of beer. And not one of them is less than superb. “I’m impressed, Kiddo. Not only in your designs but the way you grasp the marketing side of this business.”

“That means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“Are you aware that this position is for a summer intern and not full-time employment?”

“I am. I’m moving to Austin in September. There’s no point in finding a job in Birmingham only to turn around and quit three months later. A summer internship is perfect for me. I think the experience I’d gain here would look great on my resume when I apply for jobs in the fall.”

I need temporary help. Frankee needs experience. I think this could work out perfectly. “How many hours a week could you work?”

“As many as you need.”

Frankee is already Lovibond family. And the perfect candidate for this summer job. This is a no-brainer. “It’s your position if you want it.”

“Of course, I want it.”

“Can you start Monday if Molly can push the paperwork through in time?”

“I sure can.”

“Stop by and see her on your way out. She’ll take care of everything.”

“Thank you for this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”

She gathers her artwork and returns it to her portfolio. One last look at her ass and legs. After this, no more. I swear.

“Dress code around the office?”

She looks sexy as fuck in what she’s wearing. I’d love to see her in more short skirts, blouses with low necklines, and black lace bras but that ain’t Lovibond brewery style.

“We’re casual around here. Jeans or shorts and a T-shirt are fine unless we have a big client coming in. But you’d never be expected to dress up for them. That would fall on Tap, Stout, and me.”

“Okay. Then I guess I’ll see you on Monday at…?”

“I get here around eight.”

“All right. Eight o’clock, Monday. I’ll be here.”

She stops in the doorway and looks back at me. “Working together again will be like old times. I look forward to it.”

“Me too.” I say the words but I already know that nothing about working side by side with Frankee is going to feel like old times. It isn’t possible with this grown-up, hotter-than-fuck version of her.

It’s only for the summer. Twelve weeks.

No big deal. I’ve got this.

​Add to your TBR list at Goodreads.

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••••••••••••••••••••••
Want to read the other standalones in this collection?
TAP— $.99 Sale (Regularly $4.99)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1lBmNlh
Amazon UK: http://goo.gl/Pm8QSs
Amazon CA: https://goo.gl/OGfft3
Amazon AU: https://goo.gl/nLU4Qv
••••••••••••••••••••••
STOUT— $3.99 (Regularly $4.99)
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Amazon UK: goo.gl/gmzGjz
Amazon CA: goo.gl/JTaqAv
Amazon AU: goo.gl/uArJcC

Releases Friday, August 4, 2017 Chapter One
Porter Beckman Fuck, this has been one unproductive day so far. Three intern interviews this morning and not a single applicant I’d even consider as a temp while I look for someone to take the full-time graphic design and marketing position. Unless I settle for the guy who called me maaan every time he addressed me, showed up an hour late, and smelled like he had just smoked weed in the car before he came into the brewery.
 
Liked his designs. Hated the zero-fucks-given attitude.
 
I pick up the application of my one o’clock interviewee. “Frances Ameline Dawson. Sounds like someone’s grandmother.”
 
I scan her application and quickly discover that she’s only twenty-one years old… and not even a student. She’s already a college graduate. Shit, this girl’s confused about the position we’re offering. Which means this is another interview that will be a waste of my time; I’m not hiring a new grad for the full-time position.
 
I scan lower to have a look at her education; I’m curious about what someone so young could have already accomplished.
 
Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Alabama. Driven. 3.9 GPA. Intelligent. Recipient of the Howard B. Jones graphic design award. Talented. They don’t give that bastard to someone with mediocre skills. She must be a good artist… no, make that a damn good artist.
 
Miss Frances Ameline Dawson has captured my attention.
 
I look up when I hear Tap knock on my open door. “Hey. I’ve got to make a delivery to BCC. Want to ride out there with me and grab a late lunch afterward?”
 
“Love to but can’t. Got an interview in ten minutes.”
 
“Oh, yeah. Forgot you had that going on today. Haven’t found anyone yet?”
 
“Not even close.”
 
“Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for soon.”
 
“Hope so.” I’m taking care of all the graphic design and marketing, plus working on the winter seasonal recipe with Stout. I’m up to my ass in alligators and in desperate need of someone to take up some slack.
 
Molly—our office manager, head of human resources, and second mom to all of us—leans around the doorway and pokes her head into my office. “Next… applicant… is… here.” Why does she sound like she’s singing a song? Is she that happy it’s the last one for the day?
 
Frances is early. I like that.
 
“I can see that you have things to do so I’m outta here,” Tap says.
 
Molly slides her arm around him. “Tell Lawrence I said hello and to stop being a stranger. We miss her face around this place.”
 
“Don’t worry, mama. I’ll tell her.”
 
“Are you ready for me to send her back?” Molly has this huge grin plastered across her face.
 
Why is she so giddy? “Send her in.”
 
I’m taking another glance at Miss Dawson’s application when she taps on the door. “Hey Beck.”
 
Beck? Well, hell. There goes any hope I had for this one acting more professional than the three I saw ahead of her this morning.
 
“It’s Beckman.” I lift my eyes to Frances Ameline Dawson at the same time I correct her.
 
Long, dark loose curls. Vivid ocean eyes. Flawless porcelain skin. White teeth behind a lovely smile.
 
Fuck. Me.
 
Gorgeous.
 
“Come in and have a seat.”
 
She and her four-inch fuck-me pumps cross my office and she lowers herself into the chair across from me, placing her black portfolio by her feet. “It’s good to see you again. Been a while, right?”
 
What. The. Hell?
 
This girl knows me.
 
And I have no idea who she is.
 
Have I fucked her? No. I would remember being between that pair of legs. Unless I was shit-faced. But even then, I don’t think I could forget this one.
 
Her eyes. Something about them seems familiar. But that body… I’ve never seen it before. And I’m certain I’ve never seen it naked. I would remember.
 
“How long has it been?” Maybe I can put the pieces together if I have some kind of time frame.
 
“Three years.” She’s only twenty-one. Three years ago, she’d have been eighteen. A kid. Barely legal. No way I fucked her… unless I had no idea how young she was.
 
Dammit. I cannot recollect Frances Ameline Dawson. Not even a little. And I really, really, really want to.
 
“You don’t recognize me?” Her voice is low. Childlike. Am I imagining a pang of hurt in it?
 
I wish I could place her. But I won’t pretend I do and risk looking like a fool. “I’m sorry, Frances. I don’t.”
 
“Frankee. Not Frances.”
 
Frankee… Frankee… Frankee Dawson? Oh, Scott’s daughter. Kiddo. I’ve known this girl since her father came to work for us when we opened Lovibond’s doors five years ago. “Kiddo.”
 
A broad smile spreads when I call her by the nickname I gave her years ago. “You remember.”
 
“Took a minute but yeah I do. In my defense, you’ve… changed.” Changed? Huge understatement. Developed. Matured. Bloomed. Blossomed. All of those would be much better word choices.
 
Short hair. No makeup. Baggy clothes. Straight, gangly body. Those are the things I remember about Frankee as a teenager. But no more. Kiddo is no longer a kid. She is a woman. A beautiful one.
 
Seems like only yesterday when she was here sweeping the warehouse and doing odd jobs around Molly’s office. Until she’d find her way to the art and marketing department. My territory.
 
She took an interest in what I was doing. Watched me. Asked questions. Doodled more than she swept. She was quite the little artist even back then.
 
I once found a crumpled sketch of a beer label in the trash when I was digging for something I had lost. I had no idea who had drawn it until I looked at the name signed in the lower right-hand corner of the page. Frankee Beckman. Not Frankee Dawson.
 
She was only sixteen, maybe seventeen but was apparently crushing on me since she was toying with the idea of being Mrs. Beckman. Typical behavior for a silly teenage girl. But Frankee was no typical teenage girl. She was a tomboy to the nth degree.
 
But not anymore.
 
“It’s okay that you couldn’t place me. I know I don’t look anything like I did the last time you saw me.”
 
“Not at all.” My eyes are tempted to leave her face and roam her body, but I force them to stay on her eyes… and full pink pouty lips.
 
Get on with the interview, Beckman. “You graduated from the University of Alabama in three years?”
 
“I did.”
 
Damn. That’s an accomplishment. “Impressive but why the rush?”
 
“The twins graduated from high school this year and they’ll be going to Alabama in the fall. My parents were going to have three kids in college at the same time if I didn’t push to finish early. I couldn’t do that to them because I wanted to take it easy.” Selflessness. A quality you don’t find in many these days.
 
“I’m sure Scott and Tara appreciated that.”
 
“It was brutal at the time but completely worth it. I can say that now that it’s over.”
 
It took five years for me to graduate but not because I was a slacker. Stout and I were concentrating on brewing and how we were going to build a company from nothing. Classes took a backseat to that. And I haven’t spent a single day being sorry about it.
 
“Let’s have a look at your portfolio.” I’m eager as fuck to see the designs of a Howard B. Jones award recipient.
 
She leans forward to pick up her portfolio, giving me a clear view down her blouse. Damn. She’s wearing a black lace bra. And I can’t help but wonder if the panties beneath her skirt match.
 
I quickly divert my eyes back to her application and remind myself that this is Frankee. Kiddo. My warehouse manager’s daughter. Having thoughts like that about her makes me a total dick.
 
One. Hundred. Percent.
 
She opens her portfolio case on the sofa and bends forward to take out her work, giving me the perfect view of her ass and legs in that skirt. So I do what men do. I look… despite knowing how dead I’d be if Scott saw me checking out his daughter.
 
Is Kiddo aware of what she’s doing? Or is she still so innocent that she doesn’t realize she’s presenting more than just her designs?
 
“This was my senior project. I consider it my best work.” I quickly divert my eyes to hers when she turns around to present her work. I hope like hell she didn’t see me ogling her ass.
 
“My assignment was to build a start-up business from scratch. I chose a hard cider company. My research stated that men and women are drinking cider equally so my design needed to appeal to both sexes. The cider drinker is between the ages of twenty-one and forty so I knew I needed to keep it modern and fresh.”
 
She removes the poster cover and it isn’t possible not to instantly be sucked into her design. The font. The colors. The artwork. They’re… perfection.
 
“For my advertising posters, I chose a different couple for each cider—each with a sexy, classic pinup-style girl and a devil-like man. The play on design concentrates on fruit from the Garden of Eden, depending upon the flavor of cider. The design is reminiscent of sex and sin.” Her smile deepens. “And who doesn’t love that?”
 
Fuck. Me.
 
She goes through her posters, explaining them in great detail and then the product label itself. Everything about her design, her strategy… brilliant. “I would never have thought to take this route. My man brain doesn’t function this way, but every little detail about your campaign works.”
 
“A sexy woman and a bad boy. No one hates that.”
 
“These are really great.” I’m pretty sure Tap and Lawry would pay big bucks to have these images on their cider products.
 
“Got an A on this project.”
 
“You should have gotten an A-plus-plus.” Her work is that good.
 
She returns to her case and takes out several foam-core posters… while bending over in front of me again. “I have lots of other beer label designs if you want to see them.”
 
“Absolutely.”
 
Ales. Stouts. Porters. Lagers. Malts. There must be at least twenty-five labels here for all different styles of beer. And not one of them is less than superb. “I’m impressed, Kiddo. Not only in your designs but the way you grasp the marketing side of this business.”
 
“That means a lot to me. Thank you.”
 
“Are you aware that this position is for a summer intern and not full-time employment?”
 
“I am. I’m moving to Austin in September. There’s no point in finding a job in Birmingham only to turn around and quit three months later. A summer internship is perfect for me. I think the experience I’d gain here would look great on my resume when I apply for jobs in the fall.”
 
I need temporary help. Frankee needs experience. I think this could work out perfectly. “How many hours a week could you work?”
 
“As many as you need.”
 
Frankee is already Lovibond family. And the perfect candidate for this summer job. This is a no-brainer. “It’s your position if you want it.”
 
“Of course, I want it.”
 
“Can you start Monday if Molly can push the paperwork through in time?”
 
“I sure can.”
 
“Stop by and see her on your way out. She’ll take care of everything.”
 
“Thank you for this opportunity. I really appreciate it.”
 
She gathers her artwork and returns it to her portfolio. One last look at her ass and legs. After this, no more. I swear.
 
“Dress code around the office?”
 
She looks sexy as fuck in what she’s wearing. I’d love to see her in more short skirts, blouses with low necklines, and black lace bras but that ain’t Lovibond brewery style.
 
“We’re casual around here. Jeans or shorts and a T-shirt are fine unless we have a big client coming in. But you’d never be expected to dress up for them. That would fall on Tap, Stout, and me.”
 
“Okay. Then I guess I’ll see you on Monday at…?”
 
“I get here around eight.”
 
“All right. Eight o’clock, Monday. I’ll be here.”
 
She stops in the doorway and looks back at me. “Working together again will be like old times. I look forward to it.”
 
“Me too.” I say the words but I already know that nothing about working side by side with Frankee is going to feel like old times. It isn’t possible with this grown-up, hotter-than-fuck version of her.
 
It’s only for the summer. Twelve weeks.
 
No big deal. I’ve got this.

​Add to your TBR list at Goodreads.
Buy Now
or
Read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited Tap: Men of Lovibond is on sale for $.99 
Amazon

Stout: Men of Lovibond is on for $3.99
Amazon

Coming August 4th... Blurb Reveal Time! My employee’s daughter. The tomboy. The kid who once did odd jobs around the brewery. That’s all she was… until three years passed and she walked into my office for an interview.

Frankee Dawson is no longer that girl I once called Kiddo. She’s grown into a beautiful, sexy, desirable woman. Very desirable. And that’s a problem. She’s my employee’s daughter. Lovibond family. And too young for me. Too innocent.

I want to feel her respond to my kiss.
I want her body to tremble as she anticipates my touch.
I want to learn all the places that bring her pleasure.

But mostly I want her to know that she’s never truly been loved by a man until me.

Frankee is my intern and under me for the summer. Literally. It’s a difficult secret to maintain when you can’t keep your hands off each other.

This was supposed to be a hot summer fling. Sex and fun without commitment. That’s what we called it. But we were wrong. This is more. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. Never cared more about someone else’s happiness more than my own.

I love her. And I’m happy, so damn happy… until a terrible mistake from my past springs forward and threatens to rip us apart.

There are a million reasons for her to leave me. And trust me, she should. But all I really need is one good reason for her to stay.

​Photography: Eric David Battershell 
Cover Design: Indie Formatting Services
Model: Drew Truckle Porter Excerpt—Unedited and subject to change.

Oh my God. Someone needs to explain to me how I’m supposed to eat when I’ll be alone with Porter in his condo. When I know for a fact that he’s going to kiss me. He’s said as much. And there won’t be anyone around to keep us from doing a lot more whatevering.

Porter opens the door and catches me around the wrist as we enter the condo. He’s going in for the kiss first thing.

He pulls me close and then turns us so my back is pressed against the door. “I can’t wait another minute for this.”

His hands cup my face the way they did during our first kiss. Although it’s a repeat move, it’s no less romantic this time around.

I quickly lick my lips and Porter presses his mouth to mine before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth and holding it between his teeth.

So hot and sexy.

I place my hands on his chest and the pec muscles I feel beneath the fabric are rigid. This man works out. A lot. I would love to see all the goodies that are hidden beneath this shirt.

We make a game of biting and sucking each other’s lips. It’s fun and playful.

Until it’s not.

Our kiss is no longer teasing. It’s heated and demanding with increasingly harder hand grips and squeezes. His hands move to my hips and he uses them to steer my body to the sofa while kissing me en route. He walks backward and sits on the sofa, leaving me to make my own decision about how I want to be positioned.

Beside him?

Across his lap?

On top, mounting him?

I place a knee on each side of him and lower my body to straddle his. His hands move to my hips and he grips the sides, moving them so I’m rocking against his hard cock pressing against my crotch.

One of his hands leaves my hips and comes up to wrap around my nape, pulling me down so his mouth can reach the side of my neck. His mouth is sucking pretty hard. I’m certain I’ll wear a love bite there for all to see. Not sure how I’ll explain that one but I let him continue.
“Tell me to stop and I will. Just say the words.” He’s talking about stopping but his mouth is kissing and sucking and nibbling harder.

I grasp the sides of his face and press our foreheads together. “I like what we’re doing. Don’t stop.”

“I don’t know your limitations.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re there. For now, keep going.”

“Fuck… Frankee. The way you make me want you… it’s irrational. Makes me lose all sense of self-control.”

Porter lifts my body and flips us so I’m beneath him. His face is pressed against the side of my neck leaving kisses in its path. One hand slides under my shirt and dips into my bra. He rolls my nipple between his thumb and index finger and it instantly hardens. And it’s like a control center for everything between my legs.

I want his hands on me.

I want his mouth on me.

I want him on me, period.

​I bend my knee and bring my leg up so it’s wrapped around his waist. His body conforms between my legs like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that connect perfectly.
We just fit. Teasers: More teasers...

A new steamy, lighthearted contemporary romance from New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Georgia Cates.

He's going to tutor her in more ways than one.

Bram—
My best friend’s little sister—that’s all Claudia Bliss is to me.
My head keeps trying to convince my heart, but both know it’s a damn lie.

It’s her face I see every time I close my eyes.
It’s her lips I long to kiss.
It’s her touch I crave in the dark.
She’s the one I love… but wanting Claudia is wrong.

She’s been like a little sister to me since the day she was born. Now, everything between us is changing—including the special bond we’ve always shared. It’s stronger than ever… and becoming something so different. Something so hot. Something so forbidden.

My little dove is growing up.
Doesn’t matter how wrong it is, I can’t stop wanting her.

I will have her.


Claudia—
Bram Windsor. I have loved him my entire life.

For years, I was nothing more than one of the boys to him. Owen’s little sister. The pest who tagged along everywhere the boys went. But now, everything has changed.

I’ve grown up and it’s time Bram sees me for what I am. A woman. A sexual being who wants him. A virgin more than ready to give herself to him.

I don’t care what our friends or family say. I love him and everything about being together feels right.

I will have him.


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Please enjoy this excerpt from Sweet Torment

Chapter 1
Bram Windsor

“I need you guys to help me fuck with Claudia’s date when he gets here,” Owen says.

What. The. Hell. Since when does Claudia care anything about guys and going out with them? “You mean she’s going on a real date? One where a boy comes here to pick her up?”

“Well, yeah, dumbass. That’s what most dates involve. Guess you must have forgotten that since it’s been so long since you took a girl out for dinner and a movie.”

“Dinner and a movie are pointless when you can skip it and go straight for the end goal.” My end goal? Getting laid. I’m always clear and honest about what I want so that no one misunderstands or gets hurt. The girls I hook up with are after the same thing—a good time for the night.

There have been a few who think they have what it takes to change my ways. Make me love them. Make me see that all I really want is a committed girlfriend. I wasted no time showing those few the door.

“I hope the little fuck-stain who’s taking my sister out tonight doesn’t think with his dick the way you do.”

Who does Owen think he’s kidding? This kid’s a boy with a dick. Of course, he thinks like me. Like us—Owen, River, and me. “I can’t believe your parents are letting Claudia date.”

“She’s seventeen, going on twenty-five. A high school senior. All her friends started dating last year or the year before. They couldn’t keep telling her no.”

Bullshit. They’re the parents. They can tell her no for as long as they like. “Have you forgotten the shit we pulled with girls when we were in high school?” Two words specifically come to mind. “Hannah. Beales.”

Owen romanced that girl for weeks. Sent her flowers, wrote her love letters, took her out to dinner and the movies. Even got her a damn puppy for Valentine’s. She served him her virginity on a silver platter and he gave her a prompt goodbye. Hell, even I felt bad for the girl when he was finished with her. “What you did to Hannah…? Those little high school dicks want to do the same thing to Claudia.”

“Fuuuck, you’re right.”

I can’t help the way I see Claud. To me, she’s still that little girl pretending to be a boy and tagging along behind Owen, River, and me everywhere we go. Always struggling to keep up with us while I hang back, not giving my all so she won’t feel so far behind. “No way we can let this kid take Claudia out tonight unless we know he has a clear understanding about what he won’t be doing with her.”

“Agreed. Especially with the new look she has going on,” River says.

“I will beat her ass if she’s gone emo or goth.”

I haven’t seen Claud since I left for fall semester five months ago. I’ve rarely gone more than five minutes without her on my heels. It’s been odd not having her around. But what’s odder is how I feel about not seeing her.

I’ve missed my little dove beyond anything considered reasonable. And it’s one of the reasons I’ve stayed away so long. Something is wrong with me for missing that kid so much. It isn’t normal.

I thought separation would help cure me of whatever this thing is.

It didn’t.

River chuckles. “When’s the last time you saw her?”

“End of July, right before I went back to Chattanooga.” I took a lot of extra credits. Worst semester of my life but it paid off. I graduated early with a master’s in accounting, got a new job, and I’m stoked about starting my new life.

River laughs again. “This should be fun.”

“What should be fun?”

“Duke!” I turn when I hear Claudia squeal my special nickname. One look is all it takes. I no longer have to wonder what River meant.

Claudia’s thick, dark hair is longer. She’s always worn it in braids or slicked back into a ponytail through the hole in the back of her ball cap, but tonight it’s hanging in loose curls. Long, lush eyelashes surround aquamarine magnets—the same eyes I’ve seen no less than a million times, but I can’t stop staring at them. It’s as though I’m seeing them for the first time.

The red top she’s wearing is sexy as fuck––one of those where it comes up and around the neck, leaving her shoulders and back completely exposed. Damn, damn, daaamn. Her perky tits and protruding nipples look like nothing less than perfection pressing against the thin fabric.

It’s possible I’m drooling a little as my eyes scan her mile-long legs from her ankles all the way up to the curvy hips she’s showing off in tight skinny jeans. I swear to God those tits and curves weren’t there the last time I saw her. I would have noticed.

Her shoes piss me off. Fuck-me pumps. She has no business wearing anything like those.

Who is this hot, beautiful woman who has replaced Claudia Laine Bliss?

I was six when she was born; I’ve known this girl all her life and most of mine. Since the time she could walk, she spent her days chasing Owen, River, and me. Always slower. Always weaker. Always so soft, sweet, and delicate. She’d have chosen death over admitting a single one of those facts back in the day. But we didn’t care. She was Owen’s baby sister.

Our little Claud.

That was then and this is now. And our little Claud isn’t so little anymore.

She rushes toward me and leaps into my arms, same as she has for years, with her legs wrapped around me. But this time feels different. My dick immediately recognizes the changes in her, too. The fucker spasms and comes to full attention when her body collides with mine.

The exposed skin on her neck and shoulders calls out to me like a siren. A seductress. A fucking temptress. Touch me, Bram. Kiss me. Lick me. You know you want to.

What. The. Fuck.

No, no, no. Every thought going through my head about her right now is wrong. So many kinds of wrong. This is our little Claud. My best friend’s baby sister. Not some random chick I’ll bang and abandon before morning.

Still wrapped around me, she holds my shoulders and leans away so we’re face to face. So close I could kiss her. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m very upset with you for staying away so long.”

“You know I was taking extra classes so I could graduate early.”

“I know…but you didn’t come back to see me. Not even once.” Her pouty bottom lip protrudes and it reminds me of the face she used to make as a child when she wanted her way. Except this time, it’s hot as fuck. I want to suck that lip into my mouth. Maybe even bite it.

“I didn’t do much of anything for the last five months except study. But it was worth every weekend I spent with my head in a book; I’m finished for good.”

She slides down my body and her crotch rubs my cock—no, make that my hardening cock. I will it to stop but it’s a dick. It can’t not respond to the touch of a woman. Especially when that woman is this hot.

Shit, I hope she can’t tell that she made me hard.

Even more so, I hope Owen and River can’t tell that she made me hard. They would kill me.

Her pouty lips transform into a broad grin. “You’re back in Lynchburg for good?”

“That’s the plan. Starting my new job next week.”

“Good. This is where you belong.” With me. She doesn’t say the words but I suspect it’s what she’s thinking; she’s always considered Owen, River, and me to be her boys.

“I hear you have a date tonight.” And I don’t like it worth a damn.

She lowers her eyes. “Just a boy from school taking me out. It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t care how nice you think he is. I don’t care how cute you think he is. Don’t believe a word the little prick says. Trust me when I say he wants one thing and one thing only from you.”

She looks up and our eyes connect: so fucking gorgeous. “Tell me. What one thing and one thing only would a boy—or man—want from me?”

They will want to fuck you. All of them. I can’t bring myself to say those words to her. And it’s not my job.

“Owen. Don’t tell me you haven’t had the guys-are-horny-bastards-and-she-should-avoid-them-all talk with her.” It’s his brotherly duty to give his baby sister fair warning about our ways.

“We had that talk a while ago and then we had it again after all of this happened.”

Claudia’s cheekbones rise as her dimples deepen. “Owen and River say I’ve changed. What do you think?”

I think our girl is fishing for a compliment. “You’ve become a lovely young lady.”

Her smile fades. “A lovely young lady? That’s it?”

I know. It sounds like something her grandfather would say but it’s all I’ve got. I can’t tell her she’s hot and sexy and gave me a hard-on.

Her frown transforms into a one-sided half-smile. “Thanks a lot.”

Damn. I know Claud and that forced expression. I’ve hurt her feelings. And it’s the last thing in this world I’d ever want to do.

The doorbell rings. Worst timing ever. The little shit’s arrival ends any chance I have at redeeming myself with her.

“Go to your room,” Owen says.

Claudia’s voice rises an octave. “Why in the world would I do that?”

“Go to your room and freshen up your lipstick or whatever girls do when they make us wait on them. The three of us need to have a little talk with Connor. Make sure he understands what’s expected of him on this date.”

Good. I’m glad to see Owen is taking his big-brother duties seriously.

“You don’t get to act stupid because Mom and Dad aren’t here. I’m letting Connor in before he leaves because he gave up on anyone coming to the door.”

Owen mentioned something about fucking with her date. I’m all for that but we can’t if Claud doesn’t go to her room.

I step in front of her and block the path to the door. We’re nearly chest to chest when I bring my hand to her mouth and drag my thumb over her pouty bottom lip. “Your lipstick is smeared. You should go fix it… Little dove.”

Her eyes widen and her face softens the instant she hears me say the special pet name reserved only for her. A sigh escapes her mouth when she rubs her index and middle fingers over the lip I just touched. “Okay… Duke.”

Ah. She’s never said my nickname like that before.

The doorbell rings again and River slaps his palms together, rubbing them back and forth. “All right, all right, all right, boys. Time to have a little fun with this punk-ass.”

Owen opens the front door and the kid is standing there with flowers in hand. “Good evening, sir. I’m Connor Bass.”

Flowers? And sir? What a fucking suck-up.

Owen offers his hand for a shake. What is he doing? I thought we were going to fuck with this kid. “I’m Claudia’s brother, Owen. Come in.”

River and I stand straight-faced, chests puffed out, arms crossed. Intimidation. It’s the only way to handle cocky little shits like this guy. “This is Bram and River. Claudia’s other bodyguards.”

The kid laughs. “Okay, I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do. But you will.” Owen puts his arm around Connor’s shoulder and leads him into the living room. “Come. Sit. Let’s talk while my sister finishes getting ready.”

Claudia’s date sits on the sofa and the three of us tower above him. My face is stone but I’m laughing inside as I wonder if he’s ready to piss his pants and run out the door.

“Claudia is a very special girl to all of us. We would be very unhappy if anyone hurt her,” River says.

Connor shakes his head. “I would never hurt her.”

“That’s good. I’m happy to hear that.” Owen walks over to his baseball bag propped against the wall and removes his favorite bat. “Did my sister tell you I play baseball at UT?”

“She didn’t have to; I already knew. I’ve seen you play a lot.” His voice is trembling. I like that.

“Then you already know how hard I can swing a bat?”

Before he replies, Owen takes the stance in the middle of the living room and demonstrates his swing. Doesn’t matter how many times I see it: I’m still amazed by the sheer power behind it. “That swing would crack a skull for sure.”

“This is Priscilla.” Owen wraps his hand around the bat and strokes it lovingly. “You touch my sister or hurt her in any way and you and Priscilla will become very well acquainted. And I don’t mean on the baseball field. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have Claudia home by eleven. Not. One. Minute. Later. We’ll be here waiting.” River points to his watch. “And we’ll be watching the time.”

“Yes, sir.”

I lean down so I’m in his face. “No going parking. No making out. No hands or fingers or any other appendages inside or on top of any article of her clothing. And don’t even think about walking her to the door and trying for a goodnight kiss. I will end you.” The last threat comes out with a bit of growl and I surprise even myself with how angry I feel at the thought of him trying anything with her.

This kid looks ready to piss his pants and run out the door. Goal accomplished. “Yes, sir.”

Claudia comes into the living room and I’m both pleased and relieved to see her wearing a jacket over her sexy red top. Hell, that shirt and her exposed skin made me have inappropriate thoughts about her. This boy wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Hey, Connor.”

“Hey.” His voice is deadpan and he doesn’t even look in her direction.

Claudia studies the four of us. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing much.” Owen chuckles. “Connor mentioned that he’s seen me play ball, so I thought he might want to have a look at Priscilla.”

“What did you do, Owen?”

He chuckles a second time. “I didn’t do a thing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ask our boy Connor if you don’t believe me.”

He shrugs. “Just showed me Priscilla. And his swing.”

“Pfft… like I believe that.” Claudia’s stiff expression softens when she sees the bouquet. “What beautiful flowers. Let me put those in some water before we go.”

I hate watching her go out the door with anything that has a cock. It pisses me off, which is a ridiculous notion. Not only has she been like a little sister to me since the day she was born, she’s only seventeen. I’m twenty-three. That kind of shit doesn’t go over well with people. Or with the state of Tennessee.

I have no business having these kinds of thoughts about her. Owen and River would kill me. Hell, Owen would castrate me.

Claudia Laine Bliss has grown up. Everything I’ve ever felt about her suddenly feels new and different.

And it scares the shit out of me.

Buy at Amazon

Doing a Gift Card Giveaway over on my My Facebook Page to celebrate the release of Dear Agony.


Dear Agony: A Novel

Dear Agony is LIVE at Amazon!




Dear Agony,

You've been my shadow, following me through childhood—filling my days and nights with terror and uncertainty. You cleverly disguised yourself as some form of pain or suffering as I grew into a young woman. We were unwavering companions … until I severed our ties.

I traded homelessness on the streets of New Orleans for a luxurious bed covered by the finest linens.
I traded dumpster diving for dinner in the finest restaurants.
I traded myself to a stranger—Bastien Pascal.

I have a good life within my platonic and mutually beneficial companionship with Bash.
He’s my friend. My mentor. My roommate.
Until everything changes.

I’m not supposed to get goosebumps when his hand brushes my skin.
I’m not supposed to be eager for his soothing touch following one of my nightmares.
I’m not supposed to think about what might happen if I reached out to him in the darkness.

Falling in love with him? Preposterous . . . unavoidable.

Agony, why are you back with a vengeance to rob me of this life I’ve come to love so dearly?

I’m finally happy. Don’t ruin this for me.

Always yours,
Rose

In this epic love story, Dear Agony forges a connection between an unlikely pair—a beautiful rose entwined in barbed wire and a shipwreck sinking into the darkest depths of the ocean. This agonizing romantic novel poses some gut-wrenching questions: What does a woman do when the man she loves is planning his own demise? And how far will she go to give him something to live for?

Dear Agony: A Novel

Dear Agony goes LIVE at Midnight!

You can still pre-order at Amazon so it'll automatically hit your reading device tonight.



Dear Agony,

You've been my shadow, following me through childhood—filling my days and nights with terror and uncertainty. You cleverly disguised yourself as some form of pain or suffering as I grew into a young woman. We were unwavering companions … until I severed our ties.

I traded homelessness on the streets of New Orleans for a luxurious bed covered by the finest linens.
I traded dumpster diving for dinner in the finest restaurants.
I traded myself to a stranger—Bastien Pascal.

I have a good life within my platonic and mutually beneficial companionship with Bash.
He’s my friend. My mentor. My roommate.
Until everything changes.

I’m not supposed to get goosebumps when his hand brushes my skin.
I’m not supposed to be eager for his soothing touch following one of my nightmares.
I’m not supposed to think about what might happen if I reached out to him in the darkness.

Falling in love with him? Preposterous . . . unavoidable.

Agony, why are you back with a vengeance to rob me of this life I’ve come to love so dearly?

I’m finally happy. Don’t ruin this for me.

Always yours,
Rose

In this epic love story, Dear Agony forges a connection between an unlikely pair—a beautiful rose entwined in barbed wire and a shipwreck sinking into the darkest depths of the ocean. This agonizing romantic novel poses some gut-wrenching questions: What does a woman do when the man she loves is planning his own demise? And how far will she go to give him something to live for?

Dear Agony: A Novel