We're thrilled to share a heart-pounding sneak peek of soon to be released dark erotic stand-alone, The Bad Ones, by Stylo Fantôme, releasing on April 12th.
We had the pleasure of reading an advance copy and couldn't get enough of Con & Dulcie. They're deviants, their chemical make-up unhinged, & I was disturbingly held captive by every manic thought and action. Unpredictable. Gripping. A total mind-twist.
All my depraved romance addicts like myself needs to make their calendars and add this one to their reading list ASAP. Read the wicked excerpt & go HERE to WIN a SIGNED paperback!
Check out these other blogs for each day of excerpts:
3/28 Schmexy Girl Book Blog – http://www.schmexygirlbookblog.com/
3/29 - Shayna Renee’s Spicy Reads - http://shaynareneesspicyreads.com/
3/30 – Natasha is a Book Junkie – http://natashaisabookjunkie.com/
3/31 - Angie and Jessica’s Dreamy Reads - http://www.angieandjessicasdreamyreads.com
We had the pleasure of reading an advance copy and couldn't get enough of Con & Dulcie. They're deviants, their chemical make-up unhinged, & I was disturbingly held captive by every manic thought and action. Unpredictable. Gripping. A total mind-twist.
All my depraved romance addicts like myself needs to make their calendars and add this one to their reading list ASAP. Read the wicked excerpt & go HERE to WIN a SIGNED paperback!
Check out these other blogs for each day of excerpts:
3/28 Schmexy Girl Book Blog – http://www.schmexygirlbookblog.com/
3/29 - Shayna Renee’s Spicy Reads - http://shaynareneesspicyreads.com/
3/30 – Natasha is a Book Junkie – http://natashaisabookjunkie.com/
3/31 - Angie and Jessica’s Dreamy Reads - http://www.angieandjessicasdreamyreads.com
Must Read Sneak Peek
Con had figured out where they were going long before the country club came into view.
Dulcie bypassed the parking lot and went around the main building, parking in a tiny lot next
to a maintenance house. They got out of the car and she headed towards a back door.
“It looks closed up,” he commented, looking through a large window into the restaurant
she worked at while she fumbled around with her keys.
“It is,” she informed him, then yanked open the door. She grabbed him by his jacket and
pulled him inside before locking the door behind them. When Con had been there the night
before, it had been busy, full of loud people with wait staff rushing around. Now it looked so
much bigger, devoid of all the hustle and bustle.
Dulcie flicked on the lights by the bar, illuminating a wall of liquor and some paneling. She
left everything else off. The entire restaurant was done with dark oak and large rugs, giving
the room an eerie, shadowy feel.
“How long have you been working here?” he asked, sliding his jacket off and heading
towards her. She shrugged and moved so the bar was between them.
“A little over two years. I moved up pretty quickly, they made me a shift manager.”
“Wow, impressive.”
“Youngest one ever.”
“You like it?” he was curious. She laughed again, and the sound echoed in the vast room.
“Do I like it? What kind of question is that? It's a fucking restaurant at a fucking country
club, Constantine. What do you think? Of course I don't like it. But I like to eat and I like
having my own apartment, and not all of us were born with rich daddies,” her voice grew
snide by the end of her speech. She grabbed a bottle off the wall and slammed it down on the
counter. Johnnie Walker Red stared back at him.
“From what I've heard, you don't even know who your daddy is,” he dished her own shit
right back to her, then he slid onto a bar stool.
“Touché.” She twirled the cap off the bottle before pouring a healthy amount into a glass.
“I don't. He could be loaded, for all I know. Doesn't really help me.”
“And you think my father's money helps me?”
She didn't answer. He watched as she hoisted herself onto the bar top. She moved
around till she was sitting next to him, her legs dangling over the side. Then she poured the
scotch into a glass for herself and clinked it against the side of his.
“Cheers,” she whispered, then took a sip. Con did the same, though he drank everything
she'd poured for him. “And yes, I do. Daddy's money helped you run away. Daddy's money
helps you forget.”
He choked on the fiery liquid for a second.
“Forget what!?” he snapped. She smiled and reached out her hand, wiping some scotch
off his chin.
“The person you really are,” she called him out.
“Oh, and like you're so good at remembering. Running around this place with your
manager title, acting so prim and proper. Acting like you didn't come from a fucking trailer. If I
was trying to forget, then what the fuck have you been doing?” he threw right back at her.
“Is that a joke? No, Constantine, I haven't forgotten. It's not possible for me to forget. And
you know what? I don't want to,” she hissed at him.
He got out of his seat then and moved so he was standing in front of her. She didn't move
at all, just stared at him with hooded eyes, so he gripped her knees and forced her legs apart.
She didn't resist, like he knew she wouldn't, and he moved into the V of her thighs.
“Were you scared?” he asked. She nodded and downed the rest of her drink.
“Yes.”
“Aw, poor little Dulcie. Still afraid of herself.”
“No,” she shook her head, then lobbed the glass over his shoulder. It hit a wall and he
could hear it shatter.
“No?”
“I was scared because … because I began to think I'd be the only person who'd know,”
her voice dropped into a whisper again. “That I'd be the only one who'd know what I was
capable of. That it was the last time I'd ever get to feel like myself. That while I was staring it
in the face every single day, you were running away from it. That you weren't strong enough
to handle it, and I was. That thought scared me.”
“I had to … work shit out. I told you, it's only us, kid. Only us. I didn't give it a time frame,”
he reminded her. She rolled her eyes and shoved at his chest.
“Awfully convenient for you. So what's the plan, Con? Gonna fuck me and then leave me?
I'm not going anywhere. Works out awfully well for you,” she pointed out, hopping off the bar
and pushing past him.
“I hadn't planned much beyond the sex,” he was honest.
“So confident! I admire that,” she laughed, then raked her fingers through her hair.
“So who's the bartender? Boyfriend?” he asked.
She turned her head to the side and stared at him, and for just a moment, for the first time
ever, Con felt a sliver of fear. He'd watched them the night before, seen how her coworker had
been looking at her, how he'd found excuses to touch her. Con had wanted to bury his steak
knife in the guy's forehead.
He'd never once lied to her – they were special. She was special to him. She was his
whole reason for doing the things he did, anymore. He'd stayed away because she brought
out the darkness in him. He'd needed to learn some self-control. If he'd stayed home, or if
he'd brought Dulcie with him, he would've spun out of control. Patience disappeared when
she was around, and they couldn't afford that, not with the kind of people they were. He'd just
needed some time.
“No. He's nobody. He thinks I'm cute,” she finally answered.
“Ah. You are adorable,” he teased, and was rewarded with an eye roll. “And what do you
think of him?”
“I don't.”
“Any other prince charmings come along while I was gone?” he kept questioning.
“Jesus, Con, just ask what you want to ask. Have I dated anyone? No. Have I fucked
anyone? Yes,” she snapped.
“You used to be so meek and quiet. What happened to that girl?”
“You.”
He'd been walking forward the whole time, and he stopped when he was looming over
her. She didn't back down at all, just glared up at him.
“So you're saying you didn't date them – just a lot of casual sex?” he wanted to make sure
what was happening wasn't one-sided. That he wasn't wasting his time.
“Are we going to talk about my sex life all night? You want details? How many times, how
many men? How many positions? How about the one time the guy asked me to wear a
school girl uniform – which he'd brought with him. I still have the pictures, want to see? Or
how about the other time, when the guy asked me to blow him while he was on the phone
with his wife. He wanted to see if he could come before she hung up, so I -”
Enough.
Con snapped his hand out and grabbed her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks so
hard, he could feel her molars through her skin. She let out a shriek, obviously surprised, then
she began hitting him. It was ineffectual; he was so much bigger than her. He could do
anything he wanted to her, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
“I didn't ask for a blow-by-blow of your daily life,” he growled, shoving her backwards and
forcing her against a table.
“Really? Could've fooled me!” she yelled, her voice muffled behind the palm of his hand.
“I don't care how many people you've slept with, Dulcie,” he breathed out her name as he
yanked her up onto her toes. “It's still my property they're fucking.”
“Oh, get fucked, Constantine. I don't belong to you anymore than any of the other guys
I've slept with,” she hissed.
Now that was simply going too far. He slammed her down onto the table top, sending
dishes and cutlery and wedding decorations to the floor. She shrieked and raked her nails
down the side of his face, so he pinned her wrist to the table above her head. With his other
hand, he let go of her mouth and clamped his fingers around her throat.
“Is that so? Then why are you so worked up,” he whispered, rubbing his nose along the
side of her neck, breathing her in. She squirmed underneath him.
“Because you're touching me,” she answered honestly.
“I've done more than just touch you, Dulcie.”
“Yeah, and then you left.”
“So bitter. It's heartwarming, really, to know you cared so much,” he teased her.
She'd pushed his buttons earlier, and apparently he'd just pushed one of hers. She went
wild under him, hitting and shoving at his body. Struggling to push him off.
“Is that a fucking joke? Real fucking funny, Con,” she was yelling while she slapped at his
arms and wrists and shoulders. He ducked his head and rode out the blows while he moved
his hands over her body. “After everything we did, after everything we said! Not a fucking
word ...” she was still shouting, still hitting him, but did nothing when he unbuttoned the front
of her shorts and began yanking the material down her legs. “... god, I hope someone kills
you. I hope someone kills you, and I hope I'm there. I won't even fucking care.”
Last time we barely got to taste each other. This time, I'm going to swallow her whole.
He gripped the tops of her thighs and yanked hard, dragging her across the table and into
him. He grabbed a fistful of her shirt and jerked her forward, forcing her back to lift so her face
was right in front of his own.
“As long as you promise it's you who does it, I'm fine with that,” he growled.
“Such a sick fuck, Con. You're such a sick and twisted fuck,” she swore, smacking him
upside the head. He gritted his teeth and managed to undo his own pants with one hand,
shoving them down in a hurry.
“Only for you, babe.”
She finally kissed him. Jesus, took her long enough. He'd been dreaming about those
lips, those sharp teeth, for so long. While she filled his mouth with her tongue, he ripped her
underwear off her body.
“You were gone for so long,” she whispered, rubbing her hands down his chest. “Gone for
so long. I began to think you'd never come back.”
“You should've trusted me,” he whispered back.
“I should've. I missed you. I missed you so much. I would pretend everyone was you.”
“Good.”
“I used to walk down on the tracks and I'd think about you. Wished you were there with
me,” she kept going.
“We'll go together.”
He abruptly shoved her and she fell back onto the table. It broke the hold she had on him
and he was able to lay down on top of her. Their kisses were brutal, full of teeth and biting.
Their fingers were mean, scratching over soft flesh and leaving marks. He held her down,
wanted to push her through the table. She kept talking, kept reminding him of how awful he
was, and he put his hand over her mouth. Not because he didn't want to hear it, but because
it was turning him on.
He was holding both her wrists down with one hand, and with his other hand, he was
making her just as desperate as he was; possibly more so, if her movements were anything to
judge by. She was making a high pitched whining sound. Keening, and it reminded him of the
sound an animal made when it was being hunted. When it was close to death.
Sounds good to me.
Dulcie bypassed the parking lot and went around the main building, parking in a tiny lot next
to a maintenance house. They got out of the car and she headed towards a back door.
“It looks closed up,” he commented, looking through a large window into the restaurant
she worked at while she fumbled around with her keys.
“It is,” she informed him, then yanked open the door. She grabbed him by his jacket and
pulled him inside before locking the door behind them. When Con had been there the night
before, it had been busy, full of loud people with wait staff rushing around. Now it looked so
much bigger, devoid of all the hustle and bustle.
Dulcie flicked on the lights by the bar, illuminating a wall of liquor and some paneling. She
left everything else off. The entire restaurant was done with dark oak and large rugs, giving
the room an eerie, shadowy feel.
“How long have you been working here?” he asked, sliding his jacket off and heading
towards her. She shrugged and moved so the bar was between them.
“A little over two years. I moved up pretty quickly, they made me a shift manager.”
“Wow, impressive.”
“Youngest one ever.”
“You like it?” he was curious. She laughed again, and the sound echoed in the vast room.
“Do I like it? What kind of question is that? It's a fucking restaurant at a fucking country
club, Constantine. What do you think? Of course I don't like it. But I like to eat and I like
having my own apartment, and not all of us were born with rich daddies,” her voice grew
snide by the end of her speech. She grabbed a bottle off the wall and slammed it down on the
counter. Johnnie Walker Red stared back at him.
“From what I've heard, you don't even know who your daddy is,” he dished her own shit
right back to her, then he slid onto a bar stool.
“Touché.” She twirled the cap off the bottle before pouring a healthy amount into a glass.
“I don't. He could be loaded, for all I know. Doesn't really help me.”
“And you think my father's money helps me?”
She didn't answer. He watched as she hoisted herself onto the bar top. She moved
around till she was sitting next to him, her legs dangling over the side. Then she poured the
scotch into a glass for herself and clinked it against the side of his.
“Cheers,” she whispered, then took a sip. Con did the same, though he drank everything
she'd poured for him. “And yes, I do. Daddy's money helped you run away. Daddy's money
helps you forget.”
He choked on the fiery liquid for a second.
“Forget what!?” he snapped. She smiled and reached out her hand, wiping some scotch
off his chin.
“The person you really are,” she called him out.
“Oh, and like you're so good at remembering. Running around this place with your
manager title, acting so prim and proper. Acting like you didn't come from a fucking trailer. If I
was trying to forget, then what the fuck have you been doing?” he threw right back at her.
“Is that a joke? No, Constantine, I haven't forgotten. It's not possible for me to forget. And
you know what? I don't want to,” she hissed at him.
He got out of his seat then and moved so he was standing in front of her. She didn't move
at all, just stared at him with hooded eyes, so he gripped her knees and forced her legs apart.
She didn't resist, like he knew she wouldn't, and he moved into the V of her thighs.
“Were you scared?” he asked. She nodded and downed the rest of her drink.
“Yes.”
“Aw, poor little Dulcie. Still afraid of herself.”
“No,” she shook her head, then lobbed the glass over his shoulder. It hit a wall and he
could hear it shatter.
“No?”
“I was scared because … because I began to think I'd be the only person who'd know,”
her voice dropped into a whisper again. “That I'd be the only one who'd know what I was
capable of. That it was the last time I'd ever get to feel like myself. That while I was staring it
in the face every single day, you were running away from it. That you weren't strong enough
to handle it, and I was. That thought scared me.”
“I had to … work shit out. I told you, it's only us, kid. Only us. I didn't give it a time frame,”
he reminded her. She rolled her eyes and shoved at his chest.
“Awfully convenient for you. So what's the plan, Con? Gonna fuck me and then leave me?
I'm not going anywhere. Works out awfully well for you,” she pointed out, hopping off the bar
and pushing past him.
“I hadn't planned much beyond the sex,” he was honest.
“So confident! I admire that,” she laughed, then raked her fingers through her hair.
“So who's the bartender? Boyfriend?” he asked.
She turned her head to the side and stared at him, and for just a moment, for the first time
ever, Con felt a sliver of fear. He'd watched them the night before, seen how her coworker had
been looking at her, how he'd found excuses to touch her. Con had wanted to bury his steak
knife in the guy's forehead.
He'd never once lied to her – they were special. She was special to him. She was his
whole reason for doing the things he did, anymore. He'd stayed away because she brought
out the darkness in him. He'd needed to learn some self-control. If he'd stayed home, or if
he'd brought Dulcie with him, he would've spun out of control. Patience disappeared when
she was around, and they couldn't afford that, not with the kind of people they were. He'd just
needed some time.
“No. He's nobody. He thinks I'm cute,” she finally answered.
“Ah. You are adorable,” he teased, and was rewarded with an eye roll. “And what do you
think of him?”
“I don't.”
“Any other prince charmings come along while I was gone?” he kept questioning.
“Jesus, Con, just ask what you want to ask. Have I dated anyone? No. Have I fucked
anyone? Yes,” she snapped.
“You used to be so meek and quiet. What happened to that girl?”
“You.”
He'd been walking forward the whole time, and he stopped when he was looming over
her. She didn't back down at all, just glared up at him.
“So you're saying you didn't date them – just a lot of casual sex?” he wanted to make sure
what was happening wasn't one-sided. That he wasn't wasting his time.
“Are we going to talk about my sex life all night? You want details? How many times, how
many men? How many positions? How about the one time the guy asked me to wear a
school girl uniform – which he'd brought with him. I still have the pictures, want to see? Or
how about the other time, when the guy asked me to blow him while he was on the phone
with his wife. He wanted to see if he could come before she hung up, so I -”
Enough.
Con snapped his hand out and grabbed her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks so
hard, he could feel her molars through her skin. She let out a shriek, obviously surprised, then
she began hitting him. It was ineffectual; he was so much bigger than her. He could do
anything he wanted to her, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
“I didn't ask for a blow-by-blow of your daily life,” he growled, shoving her backwards and
forcing her against a table.
“Really? Could've fooled me!” she yelled, her voice muffled behind the palm of his hand.
“I don't care how many people you've slept with, Dulcie,” he breathed out her name as he
yanked her up onto her toes. “It's still my property they're fucking.”
“Oh, get fucked, Constantine. I don't belong to you anymore than any of the other guys
I've slept with,” she hissed.
Now that was simply going too far. He slammed her down onto the table top, sending
dishes and cutlery and wedding decorations to the floor. She shrieked and raked her nails
down the side of his face, so he pinned her wrist to the table above her head. With his other
hand, he let go of her mouth and clamped his fingers around her throat.
“Is that so? Then why are you so worked up,” he whispered, rubbing his nose along the
side of her neck, breathing her in. She squirmed underneath him.
“Because you're touching me,” she answered honestly.
“I've done more than just touch you, Dulcie.”
“Yeah, and then you left.”
“So bitter. It's heartwarming, really, to know you cared so much,” he teased her.
She'd pushed his buttons earlier, and apparently he'd just pushed one of hers. She went
wild under him, hitting and shoving at his body. Struggling to push him off.
“Is that a fucking joke? Real fucking funny, Con,” she was yelling while she slapped at his
arms and wrists and shoulders. He ducked his head and rode out the blows while he moved
his hands over her body. “After everything we did, after everything we said! Not a fucking
word ...” she was still shouting, still hitting him, but did nothing when he unbuttoned the front
of her shorts and began yanking the material down her legs. “... god, I hope someone kills
you. I hope someone kills you, and I hope I'm there. I won't even fucking care.”
Last time we barely got to taste each other. This time, I'm going to swallow her whole.
He gripped the tops of her thighs and yanked hard, dragging her across the table and into
him. He grabbed a fistful of her shirt and jerked her forward, forcing her back to lift so her face
was right in front of his own.
“As long as you promise it's you who does it, I'm fine with that,” he growled.
“Such a sick fuck, Con. You're such a sick and twisted fuck,” she swore, smacking him
upside the head. He gritted his teeth and managed to undo his own pants with one hand,
shoving them down in a hurry.
“Only for you, babe.”
She finally kissed him. Jesus, took her long enough. He'd been dreaming about those
lips, those sharp teeth, for so long. While she filled his mouth with her tongue, he ripped her
underwear off her body.
“You were gone for so long,” she whispered, rubbing her hands down his chest. “Gone for
so long. I began to think you'd never come back.”
“You should've trusted me,” he whispered back.
“I should've. I missed you. I missed you so much. I would pretend everyone was you.”
“Good.”
“I used to walk down on the tracks and I'd think about you. Wished you were there with
me,” she kept going.
“We'll go together.”
He abruptly shoved her and she fell back onto the table. It broke the hold she had on him
and he was able to lay down on top of her. Their kisses were brutal, full of teeth and biting.
Their fingers were mean, scratching over soft flesh and leaving marks. He held her down,
wanted to push her through the table. She kept talking, kept reminding him of how awful he
was, and he put his hand over her mouth. Not because he didn't want to hear it, but because
it was turning him on.
He was holding both her wrists down with one hand, and with his other hand, he was
making her just as desperate as he was; possibly more so, if her movements were anything to
judge by. She was making a high pitched whining sound. Keening, and it reminded him of the
sound an animal made when it was being hunted. When it was close to death.
Sounds good to me.
Teasers
Click on the pictures for full view
The Bad Ones
Dark Erotic Stand-alone
Release Date: April 12th
Love isn't always bright and shiny.
Sometimes, it's dirty and wrong, buried six feet deep in a secret place where only wild things dare to go. Hidden behind a big black curtain that covers things no one should ever see.
Sometimes it happens between two people who should never be allowed to come together. One who is a match, and the other who just happens to be gasoline.
One strike is all it takes to burn the whole world down, and that's exactly what they plan on doing.
Even if it kills them.
warning: this book contains graphic sex, extremely brutal violence, bad language, and people repeatedly and knowingly breaking the law.
Sometimes, it's dirty and wrong, buried six feet deep in a secret place where only wild things dare to go. Hidden behind a big black curtain that covers things no one should ever see.
Sometimes it happens between two people who should never be allowed to come together. One who is a match, and the other who just happens to be gasoline.
One strike is all it takes to burn the whole world down, and that's exactly what they plan on doing.
Even if it kills them.
warning: this book contains graphic sex, extremely brutal violence, bad language, and people repeatedly and knowingly breaking the law.
Giveaway: Go HERE to Win a SIGNED Paperback!
Meet Stylo Fantôme
Crazy woman living in an undisclosed location in Alaska (where the need for a creative mind is a necessity!), I have been writing since ..., forever? Yeah, that sounds about right. I have been told that I remind people of Lucille Ball - I also see shades of Jennifer Saunders, and Denis Leary. So basically, I laugh a lot, I'm clumsy a lot, and I say the F-word A LOT.
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don't trust anyone who doesn't drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there's your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair - both a curse and a blessing - and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can't understand me.
Yeah. I think that about sums me up.
Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page | Instagram
I like dogs more than I like most people, and I don't trust anyone who doesn't drink. No, I do not live in an igloo, and no, the sun does not set for six months out of the year, there's your Alaska lesson for the day. I have mermaid hair - both a curse and a blessing - and most of the time I talk so fast, even I can't understand me.
Yeah. I think that about sums me up.
Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon Author Page | Instagram
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