Chapter One from My Fallen Saint

The wind stings my face and the glare from the afternoon sun obscures my vision as I fly down the long stretch of Sunset Canyon Road at well over a hundred miles per hour.
My heart pounds and my palms are sweaty, but not because of my speed. On the contrary, this is what I need. The rush. The thrill. I crave it like a junkie, and it affects me like a toddler on a sugar high.
Honestly, it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to put my 1965 Shelby Cobra through her paces and kick her powerful engine up even more.
I can’t, though. Not today. Not here.
Not when I’m back, and certainly not when my homecoming has roused a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. When every curve in this road brings back memories that have tears clogging my throat and my bowels rumbling with nerves.
Dammit.
I pound down the clutch, then slam my foot onto the brake, shifting into neutral as I simultaneously yank the wheel sharply to the left. The tires squeal in protest as I make a U-turn across the oncoming lane, the car’s ass fishtailing before skidding to a stop in the turnout. I’m breathing hard, and honestly, I think Shelby is, too. She’s more than a car to me; she’s a lifelong best friend, and I don’t usually fuck with her like this.
Now, though…
Well, now she’s dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, her entire passenger side resting parallel to a void that boasts a view of the distant coastline. Not to mention a seriously stunning glimpse of the small downtown below.
I ratchet up the emergency brake as my heartbeat pounds in my throat. And only when I’m certain we won’t go skidding down the side of the cliff do I kill Shelby’s engine, wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, and let my body relax.
Well, hello to you, too, Laguna Cortez. 
With a sigh, I take off my ball cap, allowing my dark curls to bounce free around my face and graze my shoulders.
“Get a grip, Ellie,” I murmur, then suck in a deep breath. Not so much for courage—I’m not afraid of this town—but for fortitude. Because Laguna Cortez beat me down before, and it’s going to take all of my strength to walk those streets again.
One more breath, and then I step out of the car. I walk to the edge of the turnout. There’s no barrier, and loose dirt and small stones clatter down the hill as I balance on the very edge.
Below me, jagged rocks protrude from the canyon walls. Further down, the harsh angles smooth to gentle slopes with homes of all shapes and sizes nestled among the rocks and scrubby plants. The tiled roofs follow the tightly winding road that leads down to the Arts District. Tucked neatly in the valley formed by a U of hills and canyons, the area opens onto the town’s largest beach and draws a steady stream of tourists and locals.
As far as the public is concerned, Laguna Cortez is one of the gems of the Pacific Coast. A laid-back town with just under sixty-thousand people and miles of sandy and rocky beaches.
Most people would give their right arm to live here.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s hell.
It’s the place where I lost my heart and my virginity. Not to mention everybody close to me. My parents. My uncle.
And Alex.
The boy I’d loved. The man who broke me.
Not a single one of them is here anymore. My family, all dead. And Alex, long gone.
I ran, too, desperate to escape the weight of my losses and the sting of betrayal. I swore to myself that I’d never return.
As far as I was concerned, nothing would get me back.
But now it’s ten years later, and here am I again, drawn back down to hell by the ghosts of my past.

MEET AUTHOR J. KENNER

J. Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.

Though known primarily for her award-winning and internationally bestselling romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list and #1 internationally, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, "chicklit" suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit. 

JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a "flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations" and by RT Bookclub for having "cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them." A four time finalist for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy).

Follow her on Amazon HERE

MORE ABOUT MAN OF THE MONTH 
 
 Who’s Your Man of the Month?
 
When a group of fiercely determined friends realize their beloved hang-out is in danger of closing, they take matters into their own hands to bring back customers lost to a competing bar. Fighting fire with a heat of their own, they double down with the broad shoulders, six-pack abs, and bare chests of dozens of hot, local guys who they cajole, prod, and coerce into auditioning for a Man of the Month calendar.
 
But it’s not just the fate of the bar that’s at stake. Because as things heat up, each of the men meets his match in this sexy, flirty, and compelling binge-read romance series of twelve novels releasing every other week from New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner.  
 
“With each novel featuring a favorite romance trope—beauty and the beast, billionaire bad boys, friends to lovers, second chance romance, secret baby, and more—this series hits the heart and soul of romance.” — New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips

Wicked Grind is J. Kenner's highly anticipated release and it's NOW LIVE!  Find out why Sometimes it feels so damn good to be bad. in an exclusive excerpt!   Enter to Win a SIGNED PAPERBACK and be sure to download your copy of this HOT NEW STANDALONE! 

Am I really so lame? So fragile that I’ll shatter under the chill in his voice or the ice in his eyes?
After all, what did I expect? That we’d both look at each other with wide-eyed surprise and then leap across a daisy-strewn studio into each other’s arms while orchestral music played in the background?
That our past would be magically erased, and bluebirds of happiness would ring our heads while tweeting a chipper melody?
Not hardly.
I should have stayed. I should have looked him in the eye, told him I’d come about the job, and steadfastly repeated that the past didn’t matter. Over and over and over for as long as it took for him to ignore everything that happened before and simply hire me.
Because I hadn’t come to Santa Monica to see Wyatt Segel or W. Royce or whatever name he wanted to go by. I hadn’t come because I have some deep hidden desire to strip my clothes off in front of a camera. And I most certainly hadn’t come for the fizzle and pop that fills me every time Wyatt is near.
I came solely for the money. For Griffin.
And there is no way I’m letting Wyatt’s Arctic glare send me scurrying away.
I need this job, and he needs a model. So I’m doing this. I can, and I will.
With my pep talk still ringing in my ears, I turn and pull open the heavy steel door. It creaks, and as I step over the threshold, Wyatt turns once again to face me.
He’s standing like a sentry in front of a wall decorated with dozens and dozens of white-draped photographs. I know what’s hidden behind the drapes—images of women just like me, their bare bodies posed provocatively. And for one tiny moment, I breathe easier. Soon, those women will be on display for anyone in the world to see, but until then, Wyatt’s covered them. He’s protecting them. Guarding their honor.
And surely a man who does that will protect me, too.
I clear my throat and flash a tentative smile. “I shouldn’t have run.”
Immediately, the guarded expression in his eyes fades, replaced by something that looks almost like hope.
Encouraged, I rush on. “It’s just that I really need this job, and you made it so clear you didn’t want to see me, and—”
“I see.” He’d been walking toward me, but now he stops, his hands sliding into his pockets. His posture stiffens. He’s no longer hopeful; if anything, he’s hostile.
A wave of embarrassment crashes over me, and I want to kick myself for being such a fool. My apology was for running away twelve minutes ago. But Wyatt obviously thought I was apologizing for what happened twelve years ago.
I expect him to order me out. To tell me firmly and plainly that I have no business being there.
But he says none of that. All he does is look at me so deeply I’m certain he can see all the way to my soul.
I shift under his inspection, feeling raw and naked and exposed. I want to explain. To tell him how confused I was. How much he meant to me. How badly I screwed up. How many people I hurt.
But I can’t. The words just don’t come. Instead, I can only manage a breathy little gasp before I force out his name, “Wyatt, I—”
“I’m not hiring you, Kelsey. Did you really expect that I would?”
“I—I didn’t know it was you,” I admit.
“And now you do.” He starts to pivot, dismissing me.
“Dammit, Wyatt!”
He stops. His eyes are wide, and I think he’s as surprised as I am that a curse escaped my lips. The teenager inside me actually cringes, but my father isn’t here. It’s only Wyatt, and my outburst has at least snagged his attention.
“You need a model,” I say. “I need the work.”
“This isn’t the job for you, Kelsey. We both know that.”
I lift my chin. “You don’t know me at all.”
“No, I don’t. I thought I did,” he adds, his harsh words making me cringe. “But I know enough to know this isn’t you.” He indicates the three photographs without drapes. “Or this,” he adds, yanking more drapes to the ground to reveal two riveting photos of women who are entirely nude, yet staring out at the camera without an ounce of shame, as if they owned the world and everything in it.
“And certainly not her,” he continues, uncovering another, this one in virginal white bridal lingerie, her wrists and ankles bound with red ribbons, her face alight with ecstasy. “Or am I wrong? Is that really what you want, Kelsey? Or are you just here for another piece of me?”
Another piece of me? I have no idea what he means by that, but I don’t ask him. I can’t. I’m too distracted by the way my heart is beating wildly, and not just in reaction to the waves of restrained anger pulsing off this man, but because of the images he’s revealed. Bold women. Brash women.
Fearless women who ask for—and get—what they want. But that isn’t me. It never has been. How can it be when I know only too well the price I’d have to pay?
“Well?” Wyatt demands, and when I remain silent, he makes a scoffing noise. “Like I said, that’s not who you are.”
I bristle. “Did you really just say that? Are you actually telling me that I ought to be ashamed for wanting to pose for you? That those women should be ashamed of their bodies? Their emotions?”
“Ashamed?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Hell no.”
“Then what?”
With a soft chuckle, he saunters toward me. He stops only inches away, his proximity making my head spin.
When he reaches out, I start to take a step back, but force myself to stay perfectly still. This is a test, I’m certain of it. And it’s one I’m determined to pass.
Even so, I can’t stifle the soft exhale of breath when he gently brushes my hair off my face, his fingertip grazing my ear in the process. I feel that touch all the way in my core, and I have to forcibly press my lips together in order not to whimper.
Slowly, he traces his fingertip down the line of my jaw, then down my neck, lower and lower until I’m not breathing, and it’s taking all of my strength to stand perfectly still and not run.
“What I’m saying,” he says as his fingertip rises with the curve of my breast, “is that I don’t think you can handle it.”
“I can,” I say, though my voice comes out shaky and not firm at all.
“Is that so? The kindergarten teacher has a wild side? The dancer’s abandoning beginning ballet and tap for more exotic pursuits?”
“How do you know what I’ve been—?”
But he continues speaking as if I hadn’t said a word. “You’re willing to do this?” he asks, putting his hands on my shoulders as he steps behind me, so that we are both facing the wall of exposed photos.
“You’re actually going to reveal yourself to the camera? To me?” His hands graze down my arms as he speaks, making it difficult for me to concentrate on his words, which are drowned out by the pounding of my blood.
“And it’s not just your body on display, but what’s inside you. Are you willing to show that fire? That heat? To expose yourself like that, open and vulnerable, to whoever stands in front of those photos? And to me, too, Kelsey. Can you handle knowing I’ll see you raw and vulnerable? And not just see you. Do you understand that I’m the one who’s going to take you there?”
The thought terrifies me—and yet I can’t deny that the terror is tinged with something else. Something scary and exciting all at the same time. “I can do it.” I force the words out past dry lips. “I’m not the girl I was when you knew me.”
“Aren’t you?

MORE ABOUT WICKED GRIND

Sometimes it feels so damn good to be bad...
Photographer Wyatt Royce’s career is on the verge of exploding. All he needs is one perfect model to be the centerpiece of his sexy, controversial show. Find her, and Wyatt is sure to have a winner.
Then Kelsey Draper walks in. Stunning. Vibrant. And far too fragile for a project like this. Wyatt should know—after all, he remembers only too well why their relationship ended all those years ago.
Determined to break free from her good girl persona, Kelsey wants spice. Adventure. And she’s certain that Wyatt is just the man to help.
But when Wyatt agrees to give her the job only if he has complete control—on camera and in his bed—Kelsey can’t help but wonder if she’s in too deep. Because how can a good girl like her ever be enough for a man like Wyatt?
All Wicked novels stand alone

J.Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy,  and paranormal mommy lit.
JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A five time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy). Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development with AwesomenessTV/Awestruck.
Her books have sold over three million  copies and are published in over twenty languages.
In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas.  She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.

WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | YouTube | Amazon Author Page

Damien Stark will seduce you in ENTICE ME, the newest addition to the Stark Trilogy by J. Kenner!  
Read  a sensual and provocative SNEAK PEEK where Damien will "negotiate"
his way into your top Book Boyfriend spot!   He is  so very swoon-worthy,  *sigh*

To celebrate this HIGHLY ANTICIPATED  release, The Rock Stars of Romance and J. Kenner would like to offer  ONE LUCKY WINNER an opportunity to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card ! 

“So we’re negotiating. Excellent. I’m sure I have something you want.” His hand closes gently over my breast, and I arch up, gasping from the impact of a sudden, hard flash of desire. 
“Damien.”
His brow rises infinitesimally. “See? I’m confident we’ll be able to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”
His thumb grazes my lower lip, and I close my eyes, drawing it in, reveling in the sound of pleasure he makes low in his throat and the erection I feel growing where the back of my head is in his lap. 
“I could just roll over,” I say, doing exactly that, so that my ear is on his thigh and I’m facing the button on his jeans. 
I lift my hand and press lightly over the length of his erection straining against the denim right in front of me. “Think how much faster the rest of the drive would be.” 
“Nikki.” There’s a tightness in his voice. Almost a warning. But I don’t heed it. Frankly, I don’t think he wants me to. Slowly, I stroke my hand up the length of him, a wild knot of heated need growing inside me, spreading wilder and faster as I feel him harden beneath my hand. As I hear the shift in his breathing. The catch in his throat when my hand reaches the base of his cock and then rises to the button of his jeans.
“Christ.”
That’s all he says, and I turn my head just enough so that I can see the desire in his eyes. A wild lust. A wanton need that matches my own. There’s never a moment when I don’t crave this man, but right now--after a day in the sun with the alcohol still warming my blood--I think that I will die if I can’t touch him. Can’t taste him.
And with every second that passes--with every tiny shift in his posture, every shortened breath, every tightening of his muscles as he fights for control--I know that I am winning. And that rush of power that courses through me is as potent as wine and as powerful as the most magical aphrodisiac.
It takes some doing, but I manage the button with one hand. The zipper is trickier, and I try to hurry because Damien has lifted his hand, and I’m afraid that if I don’t manage, Damien will do it himself, and this is something that I want. Wholly and completely.
But it’s not his fly that Damien is reaching for, it’s my leg. And as I lower his zipper, his hand slides slowly up my leg, slipping under the hem of my skirt so his palm rubs my bare skin.
I shiver as I ease his zipper down, then slide my hand in and stroke his cock though his briefs. He’s so damn hard, and I slowly ease the fly open to free him. His erection springs free, and I move forward just enough so that I can run the tip of my tongue lightly over the head as his hand squeezes my thigh tighter and tighter.
“Nikki, fuck, baby, that feels amazing.”
I allow myself a smug smile before I move forward even more and tease the tip of my tongue along the underside of his cock, all the way from balls to tip. 
As I do, his free hand slides up the back of my neck and I feel the pressure of his thumb as I slowly draw in his cock, deeper and deeper until I feel it in he back of my throat. Until his hips start to shift under me in a subtle demand that I suck him hard, deeper.
His fingers slide further up my leg, then slip under my panties. “Spread your legs,” he orders, his voice like heated sandpaper. I try, but it’s not easy in my awkward, sideways position. It’s enough, though, and soon his fingers are stroking me. I’m wet and slick, and I shift position, pressing against his hand, wanting more and more--and then gasping when he thrusts his fingers deep inside me, mimicking the way I’m taking his cock in my mouth. 
He finger fucks me hard and deep, and I shamelessly ride his hand, my own mouth working the same rhythm on his cock as a wild, wanton pressure builds inside me.
I’m close--I’m so damn close. And my muscles tighten around him, drawing him in even as every cell in my body races closer and closer to release.
And then he withdraws, shocking me with the sudden cessation. I pull my head back, releasing his cock as I cry out in protest.
“On me,” he orders as I struggle to catch my breath and swallow my protests. “I want to feel you shatter around me. I want to look in your eyes while you come. And I want to explode deep inside you.”

ABOUT THIS BOOK
​
​From New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner comes a sensually seductive novella starring fan favorites Damien Stark and his wife, Nikki Fairchild.

Includes a special preview of Anchor Me, the highly anticipated fourth full-length novel featuring Nikki & Damien as they begin the next chapter in their life together.

I didn’t understand passion until I met Damien, the man who turned my world upside down and swept me off my feet.

And though our life together feels perfect, we can’t escape our secrets--and the danger that continually threatens to surface.

But for one night, I seek a respite. A birthday wish for my husband, my lover, my friend—one absolutely perfect night.

It is my most ardent wish.

And I only hope that it will come true…

J.Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
​
Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy,  and paranormal mommy lit.
JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A five time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy). Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development with AwesomenessTV/Awestruck.
​
Her books have sold over three million  copies and are published in over twenty languages.
In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas.  She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.

WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | YouTube | Amazon Author Page