The bad boys of rock are coming. Every Single Part of You releases on May 27th. The good news is it is now available for pre-order!
Title: Every Single Part of You
Series: Cinder, Book 1 Unchained Chaos Tour
Genre(s): M/F/M Ménage, Contemporary Erotic Romance, Rockers
Published by: LSJ Romance
Cover Art: Kellie Dennis Book Cover by Design
Word Count: 80k
Heat Level: 5
Release Date: May 27, 2016
Please Note: This book contains mature themes, explicit language and sexual scenes
Here's a little tease. Enjoy!
The sensation of bright sunlight trickled through my closed eyelids and clicked around inside my sleep-muddled brain. What in the heck? Had Briar forgotten to close the curtains last night before she wandered to bed?
“Bri,” I mumbled, reaching for the arm draped over my side, “curtains.”
My fingers rested on a thick wrist. I inched my forefinger through crisp hair. Hey. Something rock-hard poked into my lower stomach. And my backside.
I popped one eye open, gasped, and sat up, knocking two heavy limbs from my body on the way. I was in a bed, but not Briar’s, and the bed was…vibrating?
The distinct humming sound of a running motor registered.
I glanced over my shoulder. Cross lay next to me, shirtless and stretching, his black Calvin Klein’s showcasing his morning erection. If I hadn’t been so freaked out, I would have taken a second to drool properly, but I tore my gaze off him and to my left.
Eryk peered up at me with squinty, pale eyes and a hint of a crooked grin. “Too early, Petal.”
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.
“We-we’re moving.” The rushed words flew from my mouth as my stomach flip-flopped.
Cross’s muscled arm wrapped around me and tugged me back down. “Hale is a total Grumpy Von Grump-in-Stein if he doesn’t get at least eight hours of beauty sleep.” His lips, nose, and chin nuzzled into the nape of my neck. “God, you smell good. Now, wiggle that fine ass into me and chillax.”
“Chillax?” I hit the octave of panicked shrill. Eryk tugged the pillow out from under his head and pressed it over his ear. “I’m still on your tour bus.”
Cross yanked my bottom into his stiff package, spooning me. “Much better.”
I huffed, “It’s daylight.”
His hand meandered up my bare stomach. “Mm-hm.”
I was topless, wearing my white bra and panties. I remembered my blouse coming off while I made out with them on their couch, but what happened to my capris? I nudged Cross with my elbow. “Are you listening to me?”
“Cross! I’m supposed to be at Briar’s.” Oh God. Briar. “Where’s Briar?”
“Home, I imagine.”
I swallowed. Hard. “Home?”
“Mm,” he mumbled.
I tried to sit up again, but Cross held firm, and Eryk’s leg slid between mine. Sandwiched. Between two hot men.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. “I c-can’t be here. On your bus. In bed with you guys. Cuddling.”
The bedroom door burst open, causing a startled squeak to press past my lips as I tried unsuccessfully to curl into a ball to hide.
Fade grinned down at us. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!”
With a groan of protest, Eryk launched his pillow. It flew across the room and smacked Fade in the chest. “Go away!”
Cinder’s lead singer, of the green-eyed god category, smirked as he met my gaze.
“You fucktards gettin’ up?” Kris asked, pushing past Fade and into the room. “We’re stopping to eat soon.” His baby blues rested on me, too.
Sayer came strolling in next, a sly grin on his roguishly handsome face.
Although cotton and lace covered my lady bits, I’d never been so exposed.
Kris and Fade glanced at each other. “Do you know what time it is?” Fade asked.
Cross muttered, “Shit,” tucking himself tighter around me.
Kris yelled, “Banzai bash!”
Muscled bodies piled up on the bed in a heap before I could blink or breathe.
Roughhousing like a group of school boys brought screeches to my lips.
“Jesus Christ,” Eryk grumbled. “Don’t you guys have any fucking manners?”
“Nope,” Fade said as he rolled off Eryk. He pushed up on his elbow and extended a hand to me. “Jackson Carmichael. But you can call me, Fade.”
Years of training had me accepting his proffered hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, out of habit.
He winked. “Right back at ya, Sexy Sara.”
A chorus of, “Yeahs,” followed before I could ask how he knew my name.
Cross placed a kiss on the back of my head, and started making formal introductions as though everything in the world was as it should be.
Two days earlier, I’d been home in D.C., draped in Dior, being the supportive daughter Father needed, until Pierce’s marriage proposal. The decisions I’d made since—most thoughtless—landed me in nothing but my skivvies and in bed surrounded by hot rockers on a tour bus headed for God only knew where.
My face hot and more than likely blazing candy-apple red, I laughed at the sheer absurdity while wishing a sinkhole would somehow open up and swallow me.
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