From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kristen Ashley comes a new story in her Chaos series…

About ROUGH RIDE:

Rosalie Holloway put it all on the line for the Chaos Motorcycle Club.

Informing to Chaos on their rival club—her man’s club, Bounty—Rosalie knows the stakes. And she pays them when her man, who she was hoping to scare straight, finds out she’s betrayed him and he delivers her to his brothers to mete out their form of justice.

But really, Rosie has long been denying that, as she drifted away from her Bounty, she’s been falling in love with Everett “Snapper” Kavanagh, a Chaos brother. Snap is the biker-boy-next door with the snowy blue eyes, quiet confidence and sweet disposition who was supposed to keep her safe…and fell down on that job.

For Snapper, it’s always been Rosalie, from the first time he saw her at the Chaos Compound. He’s just been waiting for a clear shot. But he didn’t want to get it after his Rosie was left bleeding, beat down and broken by Bounty on a cement warehouse floor.

With Rosalie a casualty of an ongoing war, Snapper has to guide her to trust him, take a shot with him, build a them…

And fold his woman firmly in the family that is Chaos.

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Up in Smoke, an all-new gritty standalone romance by T.M. Frazier is coming February 19th, 2018!

“All these bruises,” Smoke muses. “And not one of them caused by me.” He trails a hand up my arms and down my flat stomach. “Pity, but I still have time to leave my mark on you yet.” My entire body stiffens. I’m as rigid as a corpse. Smoke chuckles and I’m glad I’m facing away because his laugh is pure torture, causing his erection to vibrate against my folds which are aching for more contact. “You will be punished, hellion. You can be sure of that.” I look over my shoulder and meet his dark eyes which darken even further as his pupils dilate. His lingering gaze rakes me over from my feet to my breasts and back down to the space between my thighs. He licks his full bottom lip. My stomach flips. My will to fight him off doesn’t waiver, but my body isn’t getting the message. My core clenches again. I turn back around to face the tile, digging my teeth into my lower lip until I taste my own blood. His chest presses against my back, and his hardness pulses between my legs, rubbing against my inner thighs. He squirts some shampoo in his hand, working it into my hair. He tilts my head back and rinses my hair then slides his slick and soapy hand down my body. I’m breathing rapidly now. Short quick breaths I can’t control. There’s a deep rumble in his throat. His hand travels lower and lower on my stomach until it’s between my legs. He’s working his thumb over my swollen nub, sending sparks of need, pangs of pleasure, and a wave of self-hatred, surging within my battered body and bruised soul. “What…what are you doing?” I ask, seeing flashes of white hot lust behind my closed eyes. “More questions…” his voice a hearty amused rasp. His fingers circle my clit while he continues to rock his hard cock between my legs. The pressure building is so strong it borders on painful. Tears leak from my eyes. I’m so fucking mad at myself for being turned on. For Smoke being right. I’m so wet. He feels it. There’s no way he can’t feel it. He leans in close. I’m stone still except for the tremors gripping my body. He licks the tear off my cheek and groans. He dips the tip of his finger inside of me and I tighten around the intrusion. It’s a foreign sensation. Strange. It feels both wrong and right. Pleasurable and painful. “Your tight little pussy is weeping too. I wonder if its tears taste the same.” I look over my shoulder as he withdraws his finger and sucks it into his mouth. He groans. “Fear or desire. They both taste real fuckin’ good to me.” He places his hand back between my legs. When I try to squeeze my thighs together to keep him out he parts them with his knee on a grunt and begins circling my clit again. This time harder. Faster. I’m staying as still as I can, but when I feel something begin to happen inside my body. The sparks he ignited within me are all crashing together. I can’t hold back. My face scrunches as I try to fight the orgasm fighting its way out, but it’s no use. I can’t fight it. It’s too fucking strong. I’m so fucking close. I arch my back without thinking, pressing my ass against him, begging for more. For what I need to push me over the edge. Smoke hisses. “Oh, what I could do to this beautiful little pussy.” The pleasure builds and builds as he strokes me harder. Faster. I’m about to come all over his fingers when the feeling is lost. I spin around. Smoke is gone. I can’t see through the steam so I shut off the spray and wipe the water from my eyes only to see Smoke toweling off in front of the sink on the other side of the bathroom. The only proof I have of what just happened between us was real is his cock. Erect. Thick. Huge. The purplish swollen head bobs against his abs, jutting out over the top of the towel he wraps around his waist. “What…what just happened?” I stammer, leaning back against the wall for support. Smoke steps forward, and when I go to jerk back, he reaches out and pinches my nipple painfully hard. I yelp and leap back, slipping on the tile, falling on my ass, taking the shower curtain down with me. Smoke rips the curtain off my head and glares down at me with a triumphant grin on his evil beautiful face. “What just happened was called punishment and you got off easy. Next time I’ll split that tight pussy in two with my fucking cock.” He goes to leave but stops. “You want pain?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you. You want pleasure? Now that’s something you’re gonna have to earn.” He leaves, slamming the door behind him. I release a shaky exhale. I’d hoped the rest of my time with Smoke would be tolerable, but there’s no fucking way that’s going to happen. Not now. Not with my skin crawling with need. I’m losing my mind. About where I am. About what this is all about. About this beautiful horrible evil man. I feel like I’ve already been split in two. What Smoke is doing to me is far more than punishment. It's pure fucking torture.
T.M.Frazier is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and her young daughter. When she’s not writing she loves talking to her readers, country music, reading and traveling. Her debut novel, The Dark Light of Day was published in September of 2013 and when she started writing it she intended for it to be a light beachy romance. Well…it has a beach in it!

Your ex arrived to show off the person he'd left you for last month, and you asked me to pretend to be your date.

I was more than happy to help. You were attractive, smart and witty--and that kiss we shared? It left me wanting you for days.

The second time we met was in my office on campus where we were both surprised to discover you were the new master’s degree student in poetry that I would be working with. You promised to be professional. I did no such thing.

The late nights and intense study sessions spent alongside you majorly throw me off my game. I want you, and I fight with myself daily over this fact.

I know I'm crass, that my sexual innuendos and dirty mouth annoy you, but I live for those two bright spots of color in your cheeks. If that's the only reaction I can get out of you, I'll gladly take it.

You hate Mondays so every Monday I slip an anonymous poem into your bag and your smile gets me through the week.

I think I'm falling for you, and I know it's wrong. I know that I'm only supposed to be your adviser and nothing more, but here's the thing. I think you're falling for me too.

xo, Zach

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"What am I promising?" This man had a way of getting me to say things, to feel things, to admit things that I might not have otherwise. I wasn't sure if it was because he was older and wiser and that much more cunning at these types of discussions, or if it was just because being near him seemed to physically lower my inhibitions. He was like a walking shot of tequila. 

"I need you to promise me that if anything physical happens between us—that it will be very consensual, and very sex-positive. I need you to understand that I will worship you and make you come So. Many. Fucking Times."

He annunciated those words so clearly and slowly, I felt them with every beat of my heart, every pulse of heat between my legs.

Oblivious to my hammering heart, Zach continued. "But I also need you to know that if I do or say anything you don't like, all you have to do is say so and everything will stop. Just the word no, Poppy. Use it and I promise to leave you alone."

"Leave me alone as in stop mentoring me, stop helping me in the program?"

His face was serious and he shook his head without even considering it. "I will never stop mentoring you, as long as you want it. Giving in to our attraction—or not—will never be a condition for my help. I want you to succeed, and it has nothing to do with how much I want you in my bed. Do you understand that?"

I felt myself nodding my head. 

I knew what he was saying. Despite how aggressively Zach put his feelings on the subject of us out there—I knew he'd never betray my wishes. 

"Okay," I murmured.

He considered me for a long moment, neither of us blinking. 

"Why did you approach me that night at the party, Poppy. Did you find me attractive?"

Was he fucking serious?

Of course I find him attractive. Actually, attractive was too weak a word. I found him mesmerizing. Addictive. Enchanting. Impossible. 

"I'm not saying I do, but if I wanted something to happen ..." I swallowed a wave of nerves and took a shallow breath as Zach's mouth curved into a grin.

"Something as in finding out how many times in a row I can make you come using my mouth, my hands, and my ..."

I held up one hand. "Yes. That. How would it work, isn't it, like, forbidden?"

God, why did the word forbidden make me feel even hotter? 

but would be your absolute everything?

That’s how I felt the first time I saw him.

That one day when a few little words changed our entire lives forever…

Don’t be Afraid, he said.

Life can change so quickly.

One moment you can be smiling and feeling as if you're walking on clouds and the next, everything you love, everything you treasure crumbles at your feet.

I told him to fight, I told him I needed him.

We needed him.

But there are just some fights that can't be won…

He was my angel then, and he’s still my angel now.

In a way, I believe he’s still looking out for us, giving us a future.

Sometimes it’s as if I can still feel his presence,

guiding us and keeping us safe.

So, I won’t be Afraid.

I'll live. I’ll fight.

It’s what he would have wanted.

I’ll do it for him…

I’ve canceled my date for the evening. Natasha something or other. Hated to do it to her after meeting her at the gym and promising her she could show me around town.

I don’t need her or anyone else showing me around. Well, maybe one person, but I can’t seem to pull my head out of my ass to try and apologize to her. I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret again, and in my position regret needs to stay as far away from me as I’ve been of Justice.

I step into the crowded bar called Whiskey Jacks. The few locals I’ve talked to say it’s the happening joint in downtown Boise, even on weekdays. The scene is not my usual. Especially at the moment, since half of the people in here have stopped talking, mouths dropping to the floor when I walk by.

My mood is shit, so I nod and smile. Shake a few guys’ hands and keep moving.

I came here to play football and seek revenge. It seems revenge has a funny and twisted way of blowing back on me. I’m experiencing it firsthand with every glimpse of the only woman I’ve ever loved. She’s everywhere.

Thoughts and dreams on the field. Hell, she’s even in my bed at night when I have my hand wrapped around my dick.

Seeing her is gutting me. It draws back so much pent-up frustration that there are days when I wished I hadn’t let my injury get as far as it did. If it didn’t, I might not be here right now, might not have admitted that my feelings for her are still alive and burning inside of me.

I knew my shoulder was causing me issues before it gave out on me. Little did I know that a flare-up of bone spurs caught in between my muscles would trigger my shoulder to freeze.

It happened so fast when I threw the ball down the field that I had no time to react before I was slammed into from both sides, heard it crunch with the impact from the ground. It shattered and ripped all the way up my neck. It fucked me all up.

Enough to where I had two surgeries within three months, multiple therapy sessions, and a backup quarterback who finished out the season and took our team to the playoffs. The guy respectively ended up taking over my position.

I was let go during negotiations. I knew I would eventually heal, but there was no way in hell I was sitting on the sidelines watching someone else do my job. It’s not in my DNA. Football is the one true love that’s never let me down. I get a natural high every single time I step on the football field. My mom always reminds me how I carried around footballs since I was one.

“Shit,” I grumble to myself, shaking my thoughts free. Justice Bexley has poisoned everything in my life. Now even thoughts of football take me right to her.

I suppose they should, being that she’s technically my boss and the sight of her gets my dick hard and raises my blood pressure to the roof the few times I’ve caught her watching us practice. She’s going to be involved in my life more than she was when we were dating.

The thought of her owning me in a way has me wanting to prove to her more than to myself that I’m ready to help this team, her family, and the fans bring us to the top.

“What can I get you, number eleven?” The busty redhead leans over the bar more than necessary, giving me quite the cleavage show.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to bait the nasty words I want to spew back at her. Ever since the first press conference announcing my arrival, shit like this happens everywhere I go. After Justice left me, I loved it; hell, I welcomed it. Now, it’s old and quite pathetic.

Even the way some of the female reporters act drives me nuts. I’ve rolled my eyes more than I’ve answered their questions.

“Shit,” I mutter. My mind taking me to the press conference coming up. If I thought the first meeting was hell, then this one with her will be hell on damn steroids. Playing nice with the camera all the while sitting next to Justice. Her scent making me drunk and hard as fucking stone. Yeah, not a good sign for the press. No doubt in my mind they won’t feel and see the tension. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they aren’t circling around us like sharks just waiting to ask about our past either.

That ought to be a goddamn stampede gone wild.

“Crown and coke. Double.” I turn on the barstool pretending to study the crowd, hoping the woman behind the bar remembers she’s here to do a job and not pick me up. This will be my last drink for a long time. Hell, shouldn’t even be having it in the first place, but I’m only human, after all.

“Here you go, handsome.” She slides the clear tumbler full of dark amber liquid my way.

I pull out a twenty and slide it across the bar before going to another barstool in the corner. I take one pull of the drink feeling the whiskey burn all the way down. In an odd way, the fiery liquid calms my already hyped-up, fueled nerves.

That is until I see a flash of blonde hair shaking her sweet ass on the dance floor. My spine stiffens along with something else when my eyes stay glued to her backside. Fucking hell.

Once I focus in on the vision, I swear out loud to everyone and no one at all. “Son of a bitch.”

Those damn leather shorts are tight as hell, and those legs of hers that go on for days have always been my greatest weakness. Back then, she knew it and would expose them all the time. Justice is fit athletically. That sweet body of hers is combined with curves that were created to drive men wild. I stare at her long, exposed legs rocking with the song. “Hey, Blake.”

I hear a distant voice but ignore it, choosing to watch Justice dance with another woman. The friend's face is familiar. I know I should be able to place it, but I can’t focus on a damn thing except for that tight little ass.

Fingernails run along my shoulder, forcing me to look away from the dance floor. A petite little brunette this time. A damn gorgeous one at that. Voluptuous body and a face to match, but she does nothing to my rock-hard dick desperately trying to punch a hole through my zipper.

I’m so damn distracted I offer up a weak smile and glance back to the dance floor to see a man walk up behind Justice and grab her from behind. His hands are touching my favorite thing I’ve ever held in my hands. Her.

I see every single shade of red. It’s one thing to have to be around the woman, but it’s something totally different when another man is involved. Justice spins around, and the soon-to-be dead man wastes no time putting his mouth on hers.

Hell to the motherfucking no.

It’s the final straw that snaps me in half. A broken man seeing white-hot flashes scatter all around and not thinking rationally isn’t a good combination, but it’s a force so torrid I lose all sense of control.

I stand up, my angered body gently shoving the brunette next to me away. For one tiny second, I contemplate on guzzling my drink down. “Fuck it.” There isn’t enough alcohol to numb me right now.

In six long, powerful strides I’m on the dance floor next to them, and when the pencil dick asshole slides his hand down to her ass, I lose all sense of reasoning. I am pissed.

“Justice,” I growl and watch the man turn five shades of white from either whatever she said to him or from seeing me with my fists ready to knock him the fuck out.

Cascades of blonde locks tumble over her shoulder as she whips her head in my direction. She was in the middle of ripping the man a new asshole, I’m sure of it. She halted once she heard her name.

She lifts a perfectly sculpted brow, her anger directed toward me. Yeah, this feisty little princess and me need to have words.

I don’t say another word before grabbing her upper arm and leading her out of Whiskey Jacks. I don’t give two shits she may have left her purse behind either. I don’t stop until we are out on the sidewalk. The chaotic storm inside of me that just hit an all-time high doesn’t give a shit about anything right now except telling her off.

“What in the fuck?” I growl, nearing my face to hers.

“Liam.”

“Goddamn right, it’s Liam. Quite the little stunt out there on the dance floor.” I dig my fingers into her hips as I tug her to me.

Click Here to Read an Excerpt BLURB: SHELTER by Jay Crownover Releasing December 26, 2017 His life is chaos and confusion. It’s a storm of uncertainty and raging emotion. Sutton Warner is a mess. Everything in his life feels like it’s unraveling. He’s let a lot of people down lately, including his daughter. Sutton always promised his little girl he would never disappoint her and that he would always be there when she needed him. Until he wasn’t. The truth is, he’s used to disappointing the women in his life. First was his mother who couldn’t find a reason to stick around when he was growing up. Then there’s his ex. The woman who takes unbridled delight in making his life incredibly complicated.Luckily, his daughter is still young enough to believe her old man is some kind of hero. But, he knows the day is coming when she realizes the truth, that he’s just a man with some serious flaws and a list of ever-growing weaknesses. Finally, there’s the woman he’s desperately trying to forget with every shot tossed back and each pill popped. He more than disappointed Emrys…he almost got her killed. Her love is steady and sure. It’s a shelter shaped by conviction and silent assurance. Emrys Santos is lost. Everything in her life feels pointless and futile. She’s been busy running away from her feelings and all the people who love her the most—including her best friend, the one person who knows exactly what she’s been through. They promised to always stick together and to lean on one another. It was a promise Em had to break so she could lick her wounds and figure out her next move. For once, there is no easy way out of the tangled web of emotions she’s caught up in, and right now, she recognizes that all roads lead back to Wyoming…and back to Sutton. The man she nearly got killed. Shelter is a standalone novel, the second book in the Getaway series, which features the hardheaded and brokenhearted Warner brothers and the women who dare to love them. These boys are very good at putting the wild in wilderness.  Grab your Copy Today!  AMAZON: amzn.to/2BQF4Hs or KOBO, iBooks, Kobo, & Angus & Robertson books2read.com/u/bpWNBz

Need More Warners????

Retreat is on sale for 99 cents! If you haven’t met the oldest Warner brother, you want to steal this book! I am so proud of this series, and I’m over the top excited to share the younger Warners with you today! And Do Not Forget ESCAPE will be releasing  JAN 30th!!  RETREAT is Available: Amazon Kindle: amzn.to/2j4u4ME Amazon Paperback: amzn.to/2j4MRXV Amazon CA: tinyurl.com/z2yvcrc Amazon UK: tinyurl.com/hrbqg33 Amazon AU: tinyurl.com/zdoxfv2 Barnes and Noble: tinyurl.com/jksl492 Kobo: tinyurl.com/jcs9xt6 iBooks: tinyurl.com/j6zyznz Goodreads: tinyurl.com/h9hdgkb ESCAPE Pre-Order is Available  ESCAPE Releases Jan 30, 2018 US Amazon: http://amzn.to/2BQHwxE or KOBO, iBooks, Kobo, & Angus & Robertson: books2read.com/u/3yZdqV