We couldn't describe this book any better than M. Never. Here is what she has to say about her NEW release, "Only I would put a fully clothed man on the cover of a male stripper novel. Why? 'Cause I'm a rebel. And because this book is about so much more than a guy shedding his clothes. It's a love story. A HOT love story that includes redemption, second chances, finding your voice, and fighting for what you believe in. Fighting for WHO you believe in. Oh, and male strippers. Did I mention that? ;)" Want to meet "Jack the Stripper" in Strip Me Bare?! Now is your chance, we have a quick look at this SEXY, NEW release!
Meet "Jack the Stripper"
Ryan steps in right behind me, pressing his body flush against mine. My mind races as he wastes no time.
Is he really going to do this?
Am I really going to let him?
Can I even handle this? Five minutes ago he was with another woman. Quite possibly in this same room doing God only knows what.
“Why do you do this, Ryan?” I expel. I know he explained it in words, but I need to experience it to truly understand.
He ambles around me so closely, the only thing separating us is a whisper of air.
“I told you, the money,” he responds as he unbuttons his shirt.
“You said women, too.” I watch him cautiously, my gaze jumping between his eyes and his chest.
“That was before you walked back into my life. You’re the only woman I want to touch now. The others, like you saw, it’s just an act. A business transaction.”
“Doesn’t it make them feel used?” I flick my eyes up at him.
“It mustn’t. They always come back.”
“You like it. I saw your face. That wasn’t an act.”
Ryan stands right in front of me, his shirt unbuttoned and dangling open. “I won’t lie to you, Alana, I’ll never lie to you.” His tone is hard, but seductive. “I do like the attention, but it’s not real. It’s my job to sell attractiveness and fantasy, and I do it well. But that’s all it is, fantasy, and I know it. When I’m with you, that’s my real.”
My breath catches when he says the word real. I can’t help but find the irony in his words. I’m exactly to him what he is to me. Two people, one and the same, both living a double life to get what they want—a future, and each other.
And that is what I want. A future, with Ryan.
I try to place my hands on his chest, but he steps away shaking his head. “In this room, it’s all about you.” He ambles around, stopping right behind me. “You have to tell me what you want, Alana,” he whispers in my ear, and I almost go limp, the sound of his voice is erotic as hell.
I swallow hard, but can’t utter a word, because, truth be told, I have no freakin’ idea what I want. At least, not in this scenario. Ryan starts to rub my shoulders, I’m positive he can feel my hesitation.
“Why are you so tense? This is supposed to be fun.”
Fun? The word rattles around in my head. Fun—a time or feeling of enjoyment or amusement. Something I so rarely experience.
Okay, let’s have some fun.
I turn around to face Ryan and our eyes lock. “Show me.”
“Show you what?” his tone dripping with sensuality.
“Show me Jack the Stripper.”
Holy fuck!
His chest starts to heave as his breathing becomes heavy. Ryan pushes me down, and I land on the edge of the white couch with a little bounce. As he slips his shoes off, I vaguely hear music playing in the background. A trippy remix of Muse’s “Madness.” The melody sounds like something straight out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. I think it’s louder than I perceive, but I’m not sure. This whole situation is clouding my head.
Ryan begins to move, snaking his body to the dark rhythm. Slowly, he slides his shirt down his arms and drops it onto the floor, exposing his well-defined chest. It’s hard and toned and looks slick, like he rubbed baby oil all over it. Then he starts with his pants, undoing the button of his jeans with one deft, smooth flick. After that, he leisurely slides down his fly, teasing me with glimpses of his shiny blue briefs. His body is so agile and provisioned, each move tuned to exhilarate my senses. And exhilarate them it does. Because now he’s standing in front of me, one article short of naked.
Ryan is beautiful and powerful and seductive, and the worst part about it is that he totally knows it. He owns it. Using his intrinsic sexuality to his advantage.
My heart is racing because all I want to do is tell him what I want. What I really want. And that’s him, inside me.
My head is racing because everything I know is telling me this is taboo. Something frowned upon in my social circle. In my father’s social circle. My rationale and my desire are slicing me right in two.
When Ryan forces my knees apart and crawls on top of me my head and body go to war. Urging me back onto my elbows, all my nerve endings throb as his body overtakes mine. I grab onto his neck with one hand as he grinds and rolls, every inch of him surging against every inch of me. The quill on his bulging bicep rippling as he moves. It’s So. Fucking. Hot. I can barely stand it. But when I look up into his eyes I’m shocked at what I find. There’s no eagerness or excitement or passion, just emptiness, nothingness, a vacant stare.
Ryan really has given me what I want. He’s shown me Jack the Stripper.
My heart constricts, because this isn’t the Ryan I know, and definitely not the one that I want.
I hear Emily’s voice inside my head: Don’t be scared. Show Ryan who’s boss, then let him break you down. Let him know you can be strong and confident, and still be vulnerable when you’re together.
Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to take her advice.
I push Ryan off me and onto his back. “Alana, what the—”
“Shhhh.” I put my finger over his lips, silencing him, his eyes as huge as satellites as he stares up at me.
I run my fingertip down his strong jaw, over his hard chest, teasing his smooth skin, stroking and caressing the cuts in his abs until I reach the line of his shiny blue briefs. Ryan throws his head back, panting from my commanding touch. His reaction fuels me, spurring me to move.
No, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I am. This is the effect Ryan has on me. He pushes my hard limits, he always has. That’s why I love him. Why I’ve always loved him. He makes me feel alive.
I mimic his moves, channeling my inner Britney Spears. Rolling my body over his to the rhythm of the music, I bump and grind, amplifying the friction that’s already crackling around us. Ryan can’t keep his hands off me as I rub against him over and over. There’s heavy petting, mounting desire, and a power I’ve never felt before as we connect on a brand-new level.
I boldly sit up and straddle Ryan, shake my hair out, and smile temptingly. He runs his palms firmly up my thighs as I circle my hips in a seductive dance. I stop him with an impish finger wag before his hands travel too far. Ryan bites his lip and groans as I place his arms over his head. He strenuously watches my every move with parted lips, ragged breath, and a spellbound expression.
I begin to untie the string of my wrap dress—a white little sexy number I thought Ryan could have some fun with—ready and willing to break down all the barriers left between us. I want him here, I want him now, and I don’t give a shit that we are in the back room of a busy strip club. It doesn’t matter where we are, all that matters is that we’re together.
Slowly, still keeping with the seductive drum of the music, I unwrap one side of the dress, and then the other, revealing a blush pink, mesh bra with a diamond-studded front clasp, and panties that match. Both completely see through.
“Holy fuck, Alana,” Ryan growls, grabbing my hips and forcing my body down to his, showing me just how much he approves, his erection nearly busting out of his tight blue shorts. I brace myself with one hand on his chest and feel his heart pounding erratically underneath my fingertips. My heartbeat matches the pace of his. They throb in tandem. Calling to each other. I lean down and kiss Ryan, closing the distance between us. The physical, metaphysical, and the emotional one. If I wanted to truly know Ryan, I needed to walk a mile in his shoes, and I did. I ran a whole damn marathon. And I’m as sure now as I was five years ago that I’m committed to making this relationship work. No matter the challenges. Because we belong together. I have always known it, and tonight has proved it.
I begin to slip off my dress when Ryan suddenly stops me. “Not here.”
“Why not here?” I grip the material.
“One, because I want it deadly silent.” He traps my waist in his hands and thrusts his hips up forcing a small moan out of my mouth. “So I can hear each syllable of my name while I make you scream it.”
Is he really going to do this?
Am I really going to let him?
Can I even handle this? Five minutes ago he was with another woman. Quite possibly in this same room doing God only knows what.
“Why do you do this, Ryan?” I expel. I know he explained it in words, but I need to experience it to truly understand.
He ambles around me so closely, the only thing separating us is a whisper of air.
“I told you, the money,” he responds as he unbuttons his shirt.
“You said women, too.” I watch him cautiously, my gaze jumping between his eyes and his chest.
“That was before you walked back into my life. You’re the only woman I want to touch now. The others, like you saw, it’s just an act. A business transaction.”
“Doesn’t it make them feel used?” I flick my eyes up at him.
“It mustn’t. They always come back.”
“You like it. I saw your face. That wasn’t an act.”
Ryan stands right in front of me, his shirt unbuttoned and dangling open. “I won’t lie to you, Alana, I’ll never lie to you.” His tone is hard, but seductive. “I do like the attention, but it’s not real. It’s my job to sell attractiveness and fantasy, and I do it well. But that’s all it is, fantasy, and I know it. When I’m with you, that’s my real.”
My breath catches when he says the word real. I can’t help but find the irony in his words. I’m exactly to him what he is to me. Two people, one and the same, both living a double life to get what they want—a future, and each other.
And that is what I want. A future, with Ryan.
I try to place my hands on his chest, but he steps away shaking his head. “In this room, it’s all about you.” He ambles around, stopping right behind me. “You have to tell me what you want, Alana,” he whispers in my ear, and I almost go limp, the sound of his voice is erotic as hell.
I swallow hard, but can’t utter a word, because, truth be told, I have no freakin’ idea what I want. At least, not in this scenario. Ryan starts to rub my shoulders, I’m positive he can feel my hesitation.
“Why are you so tense? This is supposed to be fun.”
Fun? The word rattles around in my head. Fun—a time or feeling of enjoyment or amusement. Something I so rarely experience.
Okay, let’s have some fun.
I turn around to face Ryan and our eyes lock. “Show me.”
“Show you what?” his tone dripping with sensuality.
“Show me Jack the Stripper.”
Holy fuck!
His chest starts to heave as his breathing becomes heavy. Ryan pushes me down, and I land on the edge of the white couch with a little bounce. As he slips his shoes off, I vaguely hear music playing in the background. A trippy remix of Muse’s “Madness.” The melody sounds like something straight out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. I think it’s louder than I perceive, but I’m not sure. This whole situation is clouding my head.
Ryan begins to move, snaking his body to the dark rhythm. Slowly, he slides his shirt down his arms and drops it onto the floor, exposing his well-defined chest. It’s hard and toned and looks slick, like he rubbed baby oil all over it. Then he starts with his pants, undoing the button of his jeans with one deft, smooth flick. After that, he leisurely slides down his fly, teasing me with glimpses of his shiny blue briefs. His body is so agile and provisioned, each move tuned to exhilarate my senses. And exhilarate them it does. Because now he’s standing in front of me, one article short of naked.
Ryan is beautiful and powerful and seductive, and the worst part about it is that he totally knows it. He owns it. Using his intrinsic sexuality to his advantage.
My heart is racing because all I want to do is tell him what I want. What I really want. And that’s him, inside me.
My head is racing because everything I know is telling me this is taboo. Something frowned upon in my social circle. In my father’s social circle. My rationale and my desire are slicing me right in two.
When Ryan forces my knees apart and crawls on top of me my head and body go to war. Urging me back onto my elbows, all my nerve endings throb as his body overtakes mine. I grab onto his neck with one hand as he grinds and rolls, every inch of him surging against every inch of me. The quill on his bulging bicep rippling as he moves. It’s So. Fucking. Hot. I can barely stand it. But when I look up into his eyes I’m shocked at what I find. There’s no eagerness or excitement or passion, just emptiness, nothingness, a vacant stare.
Ryan really has given me what I want. He’s shown me Jack the Stripper.
My heart constricts, because this isn’t the Ryan I know, and definitely not the one that I want.
I hear Emily’s voice inside my head: Don’t be scared. Show Ryan who’s boss, then let him break you down. Let him know you can be strong and confident, and still be vulnerable when you’re together.
Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to take her advice.
I push Ryan off me and onto his back. “Alana, what the—”
“Shhhh.” I put my finger over his lips, silencing him, his eyes as huge as satellites as he stares up at me.
I run my fingertip down his strong jaw, over his hard chest, teasing his smooth skin, stroking and caressing the cuts in his abs until I reach the line of his shiny blue briefs. Ryan throws his head back, panting from my commanding touch. His reaction fuels me, spurring me to move.
No, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I am. This is the effect Ryan has on me. He pushes my hard limits, he always has. That’s why I love him. Why I’ve always loved him. He makes me feel alive.
I mimic his moves, channeling my inner Britney Spears. Rolling my body over his to the rhythm of the music, I bump and grind, amplifying the friction that’s already crackling around us. Ryan can’t keep his hands off me as I rub against him over and over. There’s heavy petting, mounting desire, and a power I’ve never felt before as we connect on a brand-new level.
I boldly sit up and straddle Ryan, shake my hair out, and smile temptingly. He runs his palms firmly up my thighs as I circle my hips in a seductive dance. I stop him with an impish finger wag before his hands travel too far. Ryan bites his lip and groans as I place his arms over his head. He strenuously watches my every move with parted lips, ragged breath, and a spellbound expression.
I begin to untie the string of my wrap dress—a white little sexy number I thought Ryan could have some fun with—ready and willing to break down all the barriers left between us. I want him here, I want him now, and I don’t give a shit that we are in the back room of a busy strip club. It doesn’t matter where we are, all that matters is that we’re together.
Slowly, still keeping with the seductive drum of the music, I unwrap one side of the dress, and then the other, revealing a blush pink, mesh bra with a diamond-studded front clasp, and panties that match. Both completely see through.
“Holy fuck, Alana,” Ryan growls, grabbing my hips and forcing my body down to his, showing me just how much he approves, his erection nearly busting out of his tight blue shorts. I brace myself with one hand on his chest and feel his heart pounding erratically underneath my fingertips. My heartbeat matches the pace of his. They throb in tandem. Calling to each other. I lean down and kiss Ryan, closing the distance between us. The physical, metaphysical, and the emotional one. If I wanted to truly know Ryan, I needed to walk a mile in his shoes, and I did. I ran a whole damn marathon. And I’m as sure now as I was five years ago that I’m committed to making this relationship work. No matter the challenges. Because we belong together. I have always known it, and tonight has proved it.
I begin to slip off my dress when Ryan suddenly stops me. “Not here.”
“Why not here?” I grip the material.
“One, because I want it deadly silent.” He traps my waist in his hands and thrusts his hips up forcing a small moan out of my mouth. “So I can hear each syllable of my name while I make you scream it.”
☆☆☆☆☆☆
MORE ABOUT STRIP ME BARE
"I may have had more lovers than you, and I may take my clothes off for countless women, but you are the only one who can strip me bare."
Do you ever stop loving someone just because they’re gone?
Five years ago, Ryan Pierce disappeared from Alana Remington’s life without a trace. He was the one she gave her heart to, her soul to — and her virginity to. So, imagine her surprise when she finds him dancing at one of NYC’s hottest male revues as ‘Jack the Stripper.’
Ryan never stopped loving Alana, and now that she has serendipitously dropped back into his life, he’s vowed never to lose her again. But being together has its costs, and challenges Alana isn’t sure she can handle. She finally has Ryan back. But how in the world is she supposed to share the love of her life with half of the women in New York City?
Strip Me Bare is a second chance, standalone romance. It contains angst, heat, humor, heartbreak, and one seductive male stripper who will not only have you handing over your panties, but also your heart.
You’ve been warned.
"I may have had more lovers than you, and I may take my clothes off for countless women, but you are the only one who can strip me bare."
Do you ever stop loving someone just because they’re gone?
Five years ago, Ryan Pierce disappeared from Alana Remington’s life without a trace. He was the one she gave her heart to, her soul to — and her virginity to. So, imagine her surprise when she finds him dancing at one of NYC’s hottest male revues as ‘Jack the Stripper.’
Ryan never stopped loving Alana, and now that she has serendipitously dropped back into his life, he’s vowed never to lose her again. But being together has its costs, and challenges Alana isn’t sure she can handle. She finally has Ryan back. But how in the world is she supposed to share the love of her life with half of the women in New York City?
Strip Me Bare is a second chance, standalone romance. It contains angst, heat, humor, heartbreak, and one seductive male stripper who will not only have you handing over your panties, but also your heart.
You’ve been warned.
NOW $1.99 & FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED!
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☆☆☆☆☆☆
M. Never resides in New York City. When she's not researching ways to tie up her characters in compromising positions, you can usually find her at the gym kicking the crap out of a punching bag, or eating at some trendy new restaurant.
She has a dependence on sushi, a fetish for boots, and is stalked by a clingy pit bull named Apache.
She is surrounded by family and friends she wouldn't trade for the world and is a little in love with her readers. The more the merrier. So make sure to say hi!
Follow M. Never on Amazon HERE
She has a dependence on sushi, a fetish for boots, and is stalked by a clingy pit bull named Apache.
She is surrounded by family and friends she wouldn't trade for the world and is a little in love with her readers. The more the merrier. So make sure to say hi!
Follow M. Never on Amazon HERE
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