October 25th 2013
by K. Larsen
Irresponsible, SURE. Necessary, PROBABLY. Going to end badly, most
likely. Does any of that matter to me, no. I decided that I can’t please
everyone so this week my only goal is to please me. I’m a selfish cow
but I can’t seem to help it. I’m Clara Lord. I own Bloodline’s Tattoo
Parlor, have a filthy mouth, no filter and a really strong objection to
bossy idiots, pet names and wealthy men.
You will hate me, love
me or love to hate me but either way it doesn’t matter. Everything I
touch turns to crap and it’s all my fault. See, I lived through hell.
Then I escaped hell and carefully spent the next eight years crafting a
perfect little life until Domini Napoli screwed it all up. Now nothings
right. Everything’s wrong and all my secrets are coming out.
Objective Book #2
My story started out
cliche, good girl falls for bad boy, but one wrong move changed all
that. Turns out the good girl doesn’t save the bad boy. My story goes
from cliche to risque to mind blowing. My story is different from all
the others because the events of my story led me to one thing…my
Remembering him comes in dreams and flashbacks that I
can’t control. I tell myself it’s time to let go…but moving on from
him is impossible when I still see our lives in my head.
When you kill your soul mate you don’t ever really recover.
year of trying to forget or rather move past it has taught me that you
can’t. Its an impossibility to move on from that kind of horrific form
of betrayal. If you you’re too selfish or scared for suicide, like me,
you learn to wake up every morning and follow routine. One foot in front
of the other, day after day.
Hollow. Lifeless. Haunted. Loving
him was like the sun on a summer day. Living without him is like slowly
burning to death. Torture.
A Bloodlines Novel.
*Note Tug of War is the 1st in the Bloodlines books, each book can be read as a stand alone book.*
Resistance Book #3
I own Bloodlines Tattoo Parlor, despise drama, and have a penchant for
broken women. It’s a habit I intend to kick. Our arrangement had been simple. Clara and I slept together if and when we wanted too. We were always best friends first. We raised Allie together with love. Four years into it did people assume we were married- yes. Did people assume I was Allie’s father- sure. Did I love every second of that- most definitely.
Then my world exploded. Clara left me. Moved on. I’m supposed to too. I just haven’t figured the moving on part out quite yet. The heart wants what it wants right? Or maybe the mind want what it wants for the heart. All of those scenarios are bullsh*t though. Clara went for the gold. She carved out the happiness she needed, wanted.
Now it’s my turn.
Everything seemed to be going great until a crazy one night stand that changed my world. How could anyone ever be prepared for Pepper Philips?
“Hi.” she smiles coyly.
“Dance with me?” she asks looking up at me through thick black lashes. I reach out and spread the palms of my hands on her hips before pulling her closer. Her small hands come up and rest on my biceps as I start to move us to the music. Tambourine blares from the speakers. I’m not the best dancer but I’m not the worst either. Pepper shakes her hips, sending shockwaves through me straight to my dick. Greta watches me from the corner of her eye as she shimmies with a tall strapping guy next to us. I glide my hands up to Pepper’s waist, my thumbs almost able to stroke the sides of her breasts. From my height I can watch the sway of her breasts as she moves perfectly. A long gold chain hangs between her breasts, a ring hanging off it. The diamond glints in the blinking lights surrounding the dance floor. A ring? She twists just as I’m about to make contact with the soft full mounds, pushing her rear into my crotch just slightly.
My dick jumps to attention and a groan falls out of me. My hands grip her waist tightly trying to hold her in place as she dances. Her hands cover mine and squeeze gently. She turns again, facing me, hands on either side of my neck and pulls my face closer to hers. Thank god. Her lips graze the shell of my ear as she says, “you’re a good dancer.” I laugh and shake my head at her.
Her hands drop to my forearms and slide lower until she takes my hands in hers. I release one hand and use the other to twirl her. She cackles as I pull her back to me and rock us back and forth.