Tattooed Hearts

TATTOOED HEARTS

Mika Jolie

Erotic Romance

Secret Cravings
Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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A
Secret Cravings Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

Tattooed Hearts

Copyright ©
2015
 
Mika
Jolie

E-book ISBN: 978-1-63105-631-4

First E-book Publication: June 2015
  

Cover design by
Dawné
Dominique

Edited by Theresa
Stillwagon

Proofread by Laurie White

All cover art and logo copyright © 2015
by Secret Cravings Publishing

ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in
whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this
book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is
strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

To my husband, thank you so much for all of your
support and for taking over our happy chaos when I need to write.
A toast to our lifetime of dating.
You are my biggest fan
and that makes you even sexier than you already are.
Je t
’aime.

My wonderful support system – WWLR, Mika’s Mavens, and
the ladies at Three
Chicas
and a Book. What can I
say? You ROCK!
 

A big awesome hooray to my beta
readers Marie Jacobs and Lucy Gage.
What can I say? We make a great
team. You continue to push me and make me better. I love you bro’

Last but not least, to all the readers - without you
this wouldn’t be as much fun. Thank you so much for all you’ve helped me to
accomplish.

Anyone else I may have missed. Fear not, there are more
books to come.

Love you all!!!

The Cravings
Ebook
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The Cravings Paranormal
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Have
you heard about the newest idea in
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club? Secret Cravings Publishing has two
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Club or the Cravings Paranormal
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Club, and we
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As a
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Trouble
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by Sandy Sullivan and
Blood Kisses**
by H.N. Sieverding FREE,
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One of several privileges of club membership.

*
Trouble With a Cowboy
, a western, erotic romance:

18 wheels had her heart until one hard-up cowboy found her
kickin
' up her heels and propositions her to take his bull
to Vegas.

Jacie
Hawkins drives big wheelers for a
livin
'. Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma
is just a dry stopover for a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest
bar.
Jacie
needs to find a hot cowboy to release some
of her pent up frustrations on for the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.

Tucker Marshall needs a big-rig driver to haul his prize bull
to National Finals Rodeo and he needs one fast. Who would have thought he'd
find one
shootin
' pool at the local bar dressed to kill
and takin' numbers?

Can some slashed tires and an ornery bull bring two
hard-headed people together for some fun in the sun and a little more?

**
Blood Kisses
(Nightwalkers 1)
, paranormal erotic romance:

Ashleigh
Brown, the author of the popular Nightwalkers series, lives a quiet life free
of the limelight.
 
She keeps her
real identity secret by writing under the pen name, Victoria Allure.
 
She soon finds herself in a bind when
she's kidnapped by a group of handsome vampires seeking Victoria.
 
She then agrees to meet their Master,
who's a huge fan of her books.
 
But
instead of meeting him, she accidentally crosses paths with her rock star
crush.
 
He is the sexy muse behind
Nightwalkers and the man she based the hero in the series upon. She would do anything
to meet him but little does she know her crush has a secret...

We will try to match your
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however, if you’re a major
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Best
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Beth Walker

TATTOOED HEARTS

Mika Jolie

Chapter One

“One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart
that you can’t utter.”

James Earl Jones

Vineyard Haven, Martha’s
Vineyard, thirteen years ago…

Claire ran her tongue over
her lips, checking their current state. A soft, smooth, and slightly-moist
mouth was ideal for kissing. Hers
didn’t feel chapped
or dry, but to be on the safe side, she swiped the shea butter pomegranate
chapstick over her lips, pressed them together then blew into her hands for a
breath check.

Minty
fresh.

Perfect.

The girls she knew were
experts in the art of k
issing. It embarrassed her to
admit at fifteen, she hadn’t kissed anyone. But they didn't pass judgment.
Rather, her friends had given her pointers and informed her fresh breath was
essential for a French kiss. For that reason, she managed to avoid garlic,
onions, milk, and her favorite, corn. The tasty grain was
on the
Cosmopolitan
list of “What Not to Eat”
before a kiss. Last thing she wanted was Forrest pushing her away because of
corn residue in her mouth.

Her gaze swept over
Herring Creek Farm. The Au
gust sun shone on green
everywhere. The edge of woodland sloped down gently to a bramble-filled ditch,
overgrown with cow parsley. Beech trees lined the fence to the
north
,
their overhanging boughs
provided dapple shade for the horses that stood idle, flic
king away flies with their tails. Chirping birds and
humming bees filled the air with the sounds of their daily duties.

Male laughter rose as
Jason, Adam, and Blake tossed a football between them in the yard. They rarely
let her wander away from their view
, not that she had
a wild streak or anything, but they were Alphas and they hovered. Always
uncertain of what the band of brothers might throw at her, she didn’t dare get
too close to the boys. They loved to throw questions at her or worse, ask her
to part
icipate in their football tossing game, just
so they could play the big brother role.

Big brothers tended to be
overbearing.

Phooey! She wasn’t even
related to any of them.

Her gaze swiveled to
Forrest. He stood not too far away in cargo Khakis and a fadin
g Transformers T-shirt, throwing tennis balls to his
father’s two black Labs.

Warmth spread inside her
chest, a sensation that was now synonymous with Forrest. The sight of him held
an intriguing allure. Tall, athletic, with tousled dark brown hair that fl
opped over his eyes. Woven leather bracelets encircled his
left wrist, drawing attention to the lean, hard muscles of his arms. All that
football and skiing had done wonders for his amazing frame. His face wasn’t too
shabby either–sharp, angled jaw, full,
firm lips that
curved into a proud yet pleasant smile, and a nose that was just a little too
big. The slight imperfection only made him more appealing.

Women often stopped in
their tracks and stared at him. Claire noticed the admirers every time, but
Forre
st seemed oblivious to the sudden pauses and
clandestine stares. When he did bestow them with a glance, his fans
overcompensated with a weak smile or a blush, a dead giveaway of their
admiration. He always took it in stride, never flaunted, and without a t
race of arrogance. He was modest and unaware of the chaos
he caused
,
this made the girls fall for him all the more.

According to the few conversations she overheard between
Jason and the others, teenage boys were horny all the time. They thought about
sex
every second of the day. If the wind hit them
just right, they would get excited.

Not Forrest.

He thought with the head on
his shoulders, not the one south of his waist. He was different that way and
stood apart from the others.
Despite the opportunities that came his
way, he dated very little. She once overheard him telling the other guys he was
a one-woman man who prized genuineness and thoughtful conversation above
lipstick and high heels.

He was handsome,
breathtaking. Her rac
ing pulse and breathlessness
proved it. However, what she really loved about him was his inner beauty. From
the way he cared for the animals on the farm, to his warmth with everyone on
the island, and his commitment to his family and friends. He was eighte
en–if a day older–and he stole her heart without even
knowing it was in his pocket.

For the last two years,
these new and strange feelings often left her befuddled. They were too strong,
too intense. Physically and mentally, she reacted to him in a way she
never had with any boy. The slightest touch, whether it
was tugging on her hair or fixing her backpack, sent her heart spiraling out of
control. On days they weren’t around each other, she missed him. When she saw
him, heard his name, happiness filled her
. At night,
his face was always the last thing she’d see; her stomach would backflip and
she’d tingle all over before drifting into a dream where they held hands and
kissed.

Now in a few days he’d
leave the island and head to Boston for college. Her heart
screeched in anguish, its flesh lay bare in the raucous
collision between reality and fantasy.

She had to kiss him. And
for that she needed complete privacy.

She studied the
stoned-faced, two story red
barn
with an old, worn-down
tractor collecting dust ne
xt to it. She glanced at
the boys, still lost in whatever they were talking about. Probably all the
college girls they would be meeting when they arrived on campus. Which meant
Forrest would be meeting college girls, too-knowledgeable, sophisticated girls
living away from their parents, who no doubt would be on
him as quick as lightning.

Panic set in.
Fear.
Her chance with Forrest
was slipping through her fingers. She needed to kiss him and let him feel
everything in her heart.

Here goes nothing.

Stealthil
y she moved around the farm and hauled open the unwieldy
door, tired hinges creaking like a testy old man. She paused and waited for one
of the boys to call after her. When they didn’t, she rushed inside, closed the
door behind her, and sucked in a deep br
eath, calming
her nerves. A
puff of the sweet, musty summer's straw odor pressed into
her nose.

The barn had recently
undergone extensive renovations by Luc and Marjorie, Forrest’s parents. Old
flooring was removed and replaced with a new tongue and groov
e floor. Claire walked passed the stalls with rubber mats
and hay racks to the corner away from the windows...in case the boys peeked
around. She dug inside her second-hand hobo bag for the ripe plum carefully
picked from her mother’s kitchen. Her friends
had
told her to find a nice piece of soft fruit that tasted good.

Tilting her head to one
side, she bit a mouth-sized hole into the plum. The taut skin of the fruit was
tangy, a complete contrast to the sweet juice that rolled down the side of her
mouth. W
ith a flick of her tongue at the corner of
her lip, she licked away the sweet nectar.

It was delicious, just
like how she’d imagined Forrest would taste.

She went in for another
bite. Her eyes lulled shut as she drowned in the fantasy of kissing Forrest. S
he pushed her tongue into the flesh of the plum a little
more and surrendered to the sheer pleasure of experimenting.

“Claire.”

Startled
, she
jumped back
and almost toppled over.
The plum slipped from her
hands onto the ground.
Oh. My.
God
.
Utter humiliation.
Forrest saw her kissing a freakin’ plum. She stood frozen, silently praying
he’d turn and walk out of the barn, instead she listened to his steps closing
in on her until they stood facing each other, barely inches apart.

He picked up th
e plum, brushed off the collected dirt, and examined it for
a second or two. His eyebrows knitted close together. “Were you kissing a
plum?”

“No.” She tried to grab
the fruit from him, but the big goof was already six feet tall and built like a
quarterback
compared to her small, five-feet-two-inch
frame. He lifted his arm out of her reach.

“Then what were you
doing?”

Pretending I’m kissing you.
Pathetic.
“Um…nothing.”

His gaze searched her
face. Claire’s first reaction was to make a run for it, but then Jas
on would think one of his best buds did something to her.
Mortified, she lowered her head and focused on the floor.

“Claire, look at me.” His
voice was low, with a trace of huskiness and authority.

There was no rescue from
this embarrassment.
Pure absolute
torture.
She coughed and pushed her
hair back behind her ear, even though it was already there. He caught her chin
and raised her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were gray, not a
dull, unremarkable gray like that of concrete or stone, but a com
bination of misty gray and blue like the ocean at dusk.
They were sensual, alluring, and warm. They beckoned her to reveal her deepest
secrets, and to lose herself in their warmth.

“Who is the guy?”

A thick fog dampened her
ability to think. “What?”

“The guy you want to kiss.
Your crush
.
”
His eyes searched her
face for answers. “Who is he?”

You.
She wanted to scream.
Instead her heart tripped and stalled.

“Claire,
who’s the guy?”
His voice racked her brain as she scrambled for a name of
any fifteen-ye
ar-old boy from her class. But they
lived on an island where everyone knew everyone’s business. If she was brave
enough to
lie—
for the record she
wasn’t—the boy would have to live his life in fear with her four protectors
breathing down his throat.

“I don’
t have a crush.”

He smiled. “So I didn’t
just
catch you
making out with a plum?”

She turned hastily and
tried to run off, but mortification followed. Forrest
stepped in front of her,
blocking
her escape.

“Have you kissed your
crush?”

“No.” She tried to
walk past him. He inched closer to the door. “I need to
go,” she said and hoped she sounded annoyed and angry. Unfazed, he made no
attempt to move.

“Have you kissed anyone?”

Something in his voice
grabbed her attention. It was low and gravely as if he care
d whether or not she’d been kissed before. Chin up, she
stared into the eyes that had captured her heart, caught the twinkle of
amusement, and her stomach flopped in disappointment.

Silly of her to think
Forrest might actually look at her and see an actual
girl with feelings instead of Jason’s shadow. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he
was one of the Vineyard’s elite. She was the half African-American,
half-Japanese, flat-chested girl who lived in the same house with his best
friend. Not that he was ever rude
just… indifferent.
Unlike the others, he never went out of his way for her. Once or twice, she’d
caught him looking her way, brows knitted, an annoyed look on his face. No,
never rude. But his opinion of her was clear
.
S
he was the little girl who
followed
his best friend everywhere
, a
nuisance, plain and
simple.