17 days and counting… I can’t believe it’s almost that time again. One of my favorite events. Book release day! Here’s a sneak peek of Asher Tran and Ezekiel Harrington’s story. F-bombs galore. Read at your own risk!

CHAPTER ONE: ASHER

I downed too many shots and now I’m paying for it.

I hold my throbbing head in my palm and glance out the window of the moving pickup truck.

“What time is it?” I ask the guys sitting up front.

I have cotton mouth and my lips stick together when I talk. My stomach’s also doing funny things. My face, too. Flushed and tingly.

“It’s past your bedtime, Asher.”

“Ha ha. Seriously, what’s the time, Ezekiel?”

“Ezekiel?” Laughter shoots from the guy in the passenger seat. “That’s fucking blasphemy calling this sinner by his biblical given name. Who the fucking-A does that?”

“I did, Galley. Sheesh.”

Filthy-mouthed Galley Rutherford. Filthy fine body. Filthy rich. Tall. Dark-brown tousled hair. Chiseled face. A body built like a fortress. Rock. Hard. Solid.

Galley and Ezekiel could be brothers.

Except Galley is more MC biker and Ezekiel is Spartan hotness.

“I am?”

“Wait, what?”

“Huh?” I scratch my head. The activity in my stomach worsens. Like a witch’s cauldron on high boil.

“You said I’m more like a MC biker.”

“And I’m Spartan hotness.”

“I did? I spoke my thoughts out loud?”

“Hell, yeah, you did.”

They laugh.

“Shit,” I mutter.

More laughter. Can I crawl under the seats now, please?

“Bikers. Spartans. What the hell kind of fucked-up shit are you into, sweetheart?”

I sigh. “Keep it down, Galley. Nora’s asleep. And shut it with the language, okay? It’s not attractive.”

“Did your girl just tell me to shut the fuck up?”

“She’s not my girl.”

“At Jimmy’s you fessed up and said you two kissed.”

“In grade school.”

“So?”

I can see in my mind Galley shrugging.

“Any girl you’ve swapped spit with, you claim she’s your girl. Bang them once, and bam, she’s your girl. That’s how you roll, man.”

“Shut the fuck up, bro. She doesn’t need to hear all this.”

I stick my head between the seats. “But the conversation is so interesting.” I look from Ezekiel, who is driving, to Galley.

The truck’s dash lights highlight their profiles nicely. Backwards baseball caps. Strong jawlines. A light smattering of dark, coarse stubble on their faces. They take up space with their brawn and raw masculinity, epitomizing all that is sexy hot.

I tap Galley’s arm. “What else did he say?” Caress. Squeeze his shoulder. “Come on, Galley.” Purr. Bat my eyelashes.

“Keep your hands off him, Asher.”

“Did you just growl?”

“I mean it.”

I ignore the warning in Ezekiel’s voice and circle my hands over Galley’s bicep. “Goodness, Galley Rutherford, you’re so…big.”

“Asher.”

Another growl. Another warning. When have I ever listened to Ezekiel? Never, that’s when.