Authors: J.C. Emery
The Switch (19 page)
Every book is such a unique experience, but I consider myself lucky to have an incredibly strong support system that just seems to keep growing. Regardless of the project, I never worry that I’m in this alone. I can’t even believe the wonderful people I’ve met along the way. Adrianne James, Amy Shearer, and Amy Rivera—thank you for all the encouragement, laughs, and late-night crit. Books—you rock for reading my mushy stories when I know you’d rather be reading Batman. Michele Milburn, for editing this, and occasionally stepping out of the copy edit box to laugh at me. You always go above and beyond. Thank you for making my work readable. To those who took a chance on Marital Bitch and showed such amazing support of my work—thank you from the bottom of my heart. Huge hugs to Dawn Johnson, and Dawn Bourgeois for pre-reading and offering your thoughts. I strive to make you both smile. Brenda at Gonet Design—you did it again. What a gorgeous cover. I hold you personally responsible for the Scriptina trend. To my girls at Indie Ignites—you ladies are always so awesome about letting me talk things out. I heart you all!
Mom, thank you for believing in me even when I didn’t beli
eve in myself. Making you proud is my greatest accomplishment yet.
About the Author
As a child, JC was fascinated by things that went bump in
the night. As they say, some things never change. Now, as an adult, she divides her time between the sexy law men, mythical creatures, and kick-ass heroines that live inside her head. A San Francisco Bay Area native, JC has also called both Texas and Louisiana home. These days she rocks her flip flops year round in Northern California and can’t imagine a climate more beautiful.
Find JC Emery on the web . . .
http://www.jcemery.wordpress.com
http://twitter.com/jc_emery
http://www.facebook.com/jcemeryauthor
http://www.goodreads.com/jc_emery
Ride (Bayonet Scars, No. 1)
Release date: October 28
th
, 2013
Death comes in Armani. Salvation comes in leather.
Principessa to the Mancuso crime family, Alexandra knows a thing or two about living outside the bounds of the law. Suffocated by the future her father has laid out for her, she makes a choice she can't take back, changing the entire trajectory of her life.
Thrust into the dark and dangerous world of the Forsaken Motorcycle Club for her own protection, Alex finds herself faced with the last thing she needs right now: the man of her dreams. He’s sex in leather, the devil incarnate, and one hell of a kisser. But he’s also off-limits. Ryan Stone can be her friend, but he’s forbidden to be her lover.
Third-generation Forsaken, Ryan knows nothing other than life on two wheels, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He enjoys the many privileges that come with the patch, and the only laws he recognizes are the ones set-forth by his club. That is, until who he wants more than anything isn’t allowed on the back of his bike —or in his bed. Balancing his desire for her body, and need to keep her safe, Ryan tries to keep Alex at a distance. Finally having made a choice for herself, she’s done hearing the word “no” and will push boundaries even Ryan himself doesn’t dare cross.
Love is never more tempting than when it’s forbidden.
Excerpt from
Ride
“I want to have fun,” I say. Duke tightens his grip around my neck and gives Ryan the cockiest smirk I’ve ever seen.
“Princess wants to have fun,” he says, leading me toward the kitchen, past Ryan and that stupid bitch who still hasn’t let go of his neck. With every step that brings me closer to Ryan, my heart rate speeds up little by little. Brushing past them, a calloused finger reaches out, wrapping itself around my pinky. His touch sends waves of heat and bolts of anger through my entire body. I don’t want him touching me, but my body craves it. The more distance I put between us, the farther our arms must stretch to keep the contact. And we do for as long as possible. A quick look back, and I find Ryan’s arm reaching out, his index finger slipping from its grip on my pinky. We lose contact, and suddenly I’m not nearly drunk enough for this shit. Turning my attention toward the kitchen, I bring the bottle of whiskey to my lips, intent on making everything so blurry I won’t be able to remember what Ryan’s touch feels like.
“What are you up for?” Duke’s breath washes over my face, an olfactory reminder of how high he is. I check my nerves in the hallway and bring my face to his.
“Anything,” I whisper, letting the word drawl out in a husky breath. Really, I could fall over right now with how terrified I am of my own actions. If I thought I was in over my head with Ryan, I’m not sure what I’m thinking as I lead Duke on.
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