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from New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author, Shayla Black, and USA
Today Bestselling Author Angel Payne?

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A Wicked Lovers Novel

By: Shayla Black

On Sale March 3, 2015
– Pre-Order
your copy now:
http://amzn.to/1yp4vm9

Racing against time, NSA Agent Joaquin Muñoz is
searching for a little girl who vanished twenty years ago with a dangerous
secret. Since Bailey Benson fits the profile, Joaquin abducts the beauty and
whisks her to the safety of Club Dominion—before anyone can silence her for
good.

At first, Bailey is terrified, but when her captor
demands information about her past, she’s stunned. Are her horrific visions
actually distant memories that imperil all she holds dear? Confined with
Joaquin in a place that echoes with moans and breathes passion, he proves
himself a fierce protector, as well as a sensual Master who’s slowly crawling
deeper in her head…and heart. But giving in to him might be the most delicious
danger of all.

Because Bailey soon learns that her past isn’t the
only mystery. Joaquin has a secret of his own—a burning vengeance in his soul.
The exposed truth leaves her vulnerable and wondering how much about the man
she loves is a lie, how much more is at risk than her heart. And if she can
trust him to protect her long enough to learn the truth.

Excerpt

“…What about you? You’re with another government
agency, so you’re here to . . . what? Be my lover? Does Uncle Sam think you
need to crawl between my legs in order to watch over me?”

Joaquin ground his jaw. She was hitting low, and the
logical part of him understood that she was hurt, so she was lashing out at the
messenger because she didn’t have anyone else. But that didn’t stop his temper
from getting swept up in her cyclone of emotion. “I’m not here on anyone’s
orders. In fact, I’ll probably be fired for pursuing this case because Tatiana
Aslanov
isn’t on my boss’s radar. When it became obvious
the agency intended to do nothing, I couldn’t leave you to that horrific death.
So here we are. But let me clue you in, baby girl. Uncle Sam doesn’t tell me
who to fuck. I can’t fake an erection, even for the sake of God and country.
That kiss we almost shared? That was me wanting you because just being in the
same room with you makes me want to strip off everything you’re wearing and impale
you with every inch I’ve got.”

When he eased closer to Bailey, she squared her
shoulders and raised her chin. “Don’t come near me.”

That defiance made him wish again that he was a
spanking kind of guy. He’d really like to melt that starch in her spine. If she
wasn’t going to let him comfort her, he’d be more than happy to adjust her
attitude with a good smack or ten on her ass, then follow it up with a thorough
fucking. A nice handful of orgasms would do them both a world of good.

“I am so done with people lying to me,” she ground
out.

That pissed him off. “You think I’m lying to you?
About which part? Your parents being agents? That I’m sorry? Or that my cock is
aching to fill your sweet little pussy until you dig your nails into my back
and wail out in pleasure?”

Her face turned pink. “You’re not sorry about any of
this. I’m also not buying your sudden desire bullshit.”

“I will be more than happy to prove you wrong right
now.” He reached for the button of his jeans. “I’m ready if you are.”

In some distant corner of his brain, Joaquin realized
that combating her hurt with challenge wasn’t going over well. On the other
hand, something about arguing with her while he’d been imagining her underneath
him hadn’t just gotten his blood flowing, but boiling. If fucking her would, in
any way, prove to her that he wasn’t lying, he was beyond down with getting
busy. If she let him, he’d give it to her hard and wicked—and repeatedly.

“No!” She managed to look indignant, but her cheeks
had gone rosy. The pulse at her neck was pounding. Her nipples poked at her
borrowed shirt angrily.

He put his hands on his hips. If she looked down,
she’d see his straining zipper. “Do you still think I’m lying?”

“I’m done with this conversation.”

“If you’re telling yourself you don’t want me at all,
then you’re the one lying.”

“
Pfft
. You might know facts
about me on paper, but you don’t know me.”

“So if I touched your pussy right now, you wouldn’t be
wet?”

He’d always liked a good challenge. It was probably
one of the reasons he loved his job. But facing off with her this way made his
blood sing, too.

“No.” She shook her head a bit too emphatically. “And
you’re not touching me to find out. Leave me alone.”

“You’re worried that I’d find you juicy. You’re afraid
to admit that I turn you on.” He stalked closer, his footfalls heavy, his eyes
narrowing in on her.

“Stay back,” she warned—but her eyes said something
else entirely.

“Tell me you’re not attracted to me.” He reached out,
his strike fast as a snake’s, and gripped her arms. He dragged her closer,
fitting her lithe little body against him and holding in a groan when she
brushed over his cock. “Tell me you want me to stop. Remember, you don’t like
liars. I don’t, either.”

She didn’t say a word, struggled a bit for show.
Mostly, she parted her lips and panted. Her cheeks heated an even deeper rose.
Her chest heaved. Never once did she look away from him. “I’m involved with
someone else.”

“If you think whatever you’ve got going with
Blane
is going to stop me . . .” He didn’t bother to finish
his sentence; he just laughed.

“So you’re not listening to me say ‘no’? You’re not
respecting my feelings for another guy?”

“Let’s just say I’m proving my sincerity to you.” He
tightened his grip. When she gasped and her stare fell to his lips, triumph raced
through his veins. “I’m also testing you. That pretty mouth of yours might lie
to me, but your kisses won’t.”

Joaquin didn’t give her a chance to protest again.
Normally, he would have. Women 101 was never to proceed without express
consent, but this thick air of tension electrifying his blood and seizing his
lungs was something entirely new and intoxicating. Their fight seemed to be
helping Bailey forget her shock and sadness, not to mention the fact that it
revved her, too. She wasn’t immune to him—not by a long shot. Thank fuck.

Thrusting a fist in her hair, he pinned her in place
and lowered his head.

Hot For His Hostage

The W.I.L.D. Boys of Special Forces—Book 6

By Angel Payne

(On Sale Now)

It’s the flight delay
she’ll never forget.

Stuck in an airport bar with a choice between two
drunk roommates or one dark and delicious stranger, Zoe
Chestain
decides to live dangerously for once, and succumbs to a night of Shay
Bommer’s
dominant passion. But her cloud of sensual bliss
is blown apart the next day, when the Vegas dancer and her friends are taken
hostage by the hijackers of their flight home. Zoe’s horror deepens when her
kidnapper reveals himself.
Shay.

It’s the mission he’ll
never give up.

Shay
Bommer
is one of the
Army’s best, a Special Forces soldier who followed in the footsteps of his
brother knowing infiltration with the enemy would sometimes be necessary. But
this operation, deep under cover with one of the CIA’s most sought-after
criminals, has cost him more than the trust of the most breathtaking submissive
he’s ever had in his arms. He’s given up the camaraderie of his unit, the
protection of his country, and even the esteem of his brother in the quest to
rescue one priceless treasure. His mother.

Can they turn “never”
into forever?

Zoe’s danced to some crazy songs in her time, but no
wild choreography has prepared her for the adventure of life with Shay—or the
return to his bed that means surrendering more than just her body. As they run
from the bad guys, the good guys, and everyone in between, she learns about the
man behind all his masks, and the Dominant for whom she’s always longed.

 
When Shay
honors his word and unlocks her bonds for good, Zoe must face the truth—that
her heart will always be Shay’s willing captive. But staying with him means
dying with him. The heat is on. Can Shay and Zoe’s love survive the flames?

Excerpt

“Hi gorgeous. You
wanna
play
lions? ‘Cause I’m ready to chase your meat.”

Shay
Bommer
stared as the
little redhead in skintight jeans wobbled on her five-inch heels and finished
the line with a playful roar. He expected her friends, a group of ten women at
a table in the corner of the LA International Airport bar, to applaud her
drunken effort. Clearly, they’d concocted a crazy version of “double-dare-you”
to pass the time and she’d drawn the wrong straw.

The moment provided more proof for a theory Shay had
observed in nauseating detail lately.

People did strange fucking things in airport bars.

A hand snaked around his waist from behind, elegant
fingers topped by slick blue-black nails. Its owner had a sultrier voice than
the redhead’s, now murmuring in his ear. “I have a better game. I
wanna
play war. You lay on the ground and I’ll blow you up,
baby.”

Hell.

Six months undercover with one of the world’s most
notorious criminals, and the worst bullets he dodged these days were lines like
that.

Remember why you’re
doing this. Remember who you’re doing this for.

He swung a polite smile at the redhead then swiveled
to peer at her friend, an equally petite woman with a deeper tint to her
mahogany pixie cut, showing off ears with four piercings apiece. “Ladies, I’m
flattered but—”

“
Ohhh
,
noooo
,”
flirt number one protested. “We don’t like the sound of that ‘but.’”

“Not to be confused with the butt we
do
like.” Her friend slid the
goth
fingernails under his ass, squeezing him through the
fabric of his tailored dress trousers. For the fifteenth time tonight, he
missed his regular camouflage “work attire” worse than Scout, the Siberian
Husky who’d been like another brother to he and
Tait
through boyhood.

“You’re so gorgeous.” The first woman pushed his knees
apart and stepped in for a feel from the other side, sliding a hand over the
fabric covering his cock. “
Oooo
, and
hard
. You don’t just look like Superman, do
you? You feel like him—”

“
Everywhere.
”
Her friend kept exploring, finally wrapping eager fingers around his balls. “
Mmmmm
. He’s not Superman, Brynn. He’s Ironman.”

Shay tensed. He threw a subtle but thorough glance
around the room, wondering if he’d missed anything on the first five sweeps.
Ironman
. How the hell had the woman blurted his
radio call-sign? Had Cameron Stock, the evil prick he’d been hanging out with
for half a year, directed the woman to act shitfaced in order to drop the name
and see how he’d react?

Or are you freaking out
like a little girl now,
Bommer
? For fuck’s sake, her
fingers are all over the junkyard between your thighs—and the size of your
“pipe” isn’t a state secret. You may have earned the nickname by setting timed
run records in PT but your cock isn’t a bad ally for the cause.

He rolled his eyes at the smartass in his head as the
woman nuzzled his neck. When her margarita-heavy breath hit him, he had the
answer to his dilemma. Her hit on the name had really just been stupid
coincidence, though he rarely believed in that kind of cosmic shit. He couldn’t
afford to.

Brynn sidled closer, fitting the apex of her thighs
against the same part of his anatomy. “Come on, stud. What about it? Ellie
likes to share and so do I. Two redheads, grounded by fog in the same airport
as you, with a room waiting for us over at the Hilton…”

“And at least one of us isn’t wearing panties.” More
margarita breath fanned his face.

Brynn giggled. “Make that neither of us. Horny, panty-free
dancers from a hot Vegas show. Find a blue moon somewhere in that muck outside
and you’ve been handed a once-in-a-million memory, honey.”

Part of him screamed to simply agree with her. That
same part filled his imagination with a fantasy painted in shades of
ohhh
, fuck
, and
yeah
.
Both women kneeling before him, servicing his cock in all the ways any
heterosexual male dreamed. He’d find a way to clamp their nipples,
reciprocating their naughty behavior as they licked his erection, preparing him
to fuck them both…

Thoughts he didn’t dare indulge for another second.
Not now.

He pushed off the barstool, rubbed the back of his
neck, and faked an awkward laugh. “I’m certain you’re right, ladies, but I
can’t. I’m here on business. My colleague should be here any minute.”

The reply was a string of lies. Where the fuck was
Wyst
? The guy was thirty minutes late.
Not
a development Shay wanted to take with the
normal calm that had earned him a fast place in Cameron Stock’s inner sanctum.
But tonight, everything was different. Within the hour, they’d solidify the
plans that would make this burglary happen, finally bringing him to the last
stretch of this disgusting mission.

Shay had been working closely with the spooks to make
this shit go down as seamlessly as possible. His personal investment in taking
out Stock was intense. Last year, Stock helped engineer a scheme that nearly
drenched the US West Coast beneath a nuclear fallout cloud, a plan thwarted in
an operation by his brother
Tait’s
Special Forces
team—though the price had been devastating.
Tait’s
ladylove, Luna Lawrence, had eventually died as a result of the standoff’s
violence. The trauma had turned
Tait’s
heart into a
husk and his liver into a distillery. And watching that shit happen? Shay
grimaced from the memories. The term “emotional waterboarding” fit the bill
nicely.

But exacting revenge on behalf of
Tait
was only the first half of the picture. Shay never lost sight of the second
goal for this escapade, equally driving every step he took and move he made. He
was going through this hell to find another victim of Stock’s rise to criminal
glory—a piece of prey who’d then been forced to become a cog in the monster’s
machine.

A cog he’d once known as Mom.