My story, Pretty Deadly is coming soon to a multi-author anthology!

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The best things happen… After Dark

Enter a realm of passion and danger, where desire thrives in the shadows. In After Dark, meet heroes who play by their own rules, from mafia enforcers and rebellious bad boys to motorcycle club kings, dominant lovers, ruthless hitmen, and cunning assassins.

Succumb to the magnetic pull of anti-heroes who walk the fine line between darkness and desire.

Witness their fiery chemistry as they navigate a world where love is as dangerous as it is intoxicating.

Explore the depths of pleasure, pain, and power as love blossoms in the most forbidden corners of the heart.

From the seedy streets of the underworld to the heights of ecstasy, these stories will leave you spellbound and craving more. Get lost in this intoxicating escape into a world where danger and passion collide.

Are you ready to be seduced by those who defy convention and embrace the darkness within? Order your copy now and let the allure of these anti-heroes consume you.

Including stories from:
Stephanie Morris – USA Today bestselling author
Courtney Dean-USA Today Bestselling Author
Bella Emy – USA Today Bestselling Author
Charmaine Louise Shelton
VK Holt
Euryia Larsen
Rachel Radner
Darah Lace
KyAnn Waters
Tara Lee
Tristina Brockway
Ali Rivers
Dilana Rose
Courtney W. Dixon

Sneak Peek Excerpt

Pretty Deadly

He’d keep me or he’d kill me. Either way, he wasn’t going to let me go.

Eric Spade

Lust and a beautiful woman can make a man weak. Pretty deadly. She makes me question my purpose. She’s in bed with my enemy. To take down a king, sometimes you have to sacrifice his queen.

Nalini Bryan

Fear is my constant companion. I’ve been held hostage by the Kyng of the cartel until a stranger takes me, stealing me from my nightmare. I thought he had come to rescue me. I was wrong.

Excerpt

I wasn’t just a killer. Some men wielded power like a weapon. They sharpened their knives of intimidation, yet hid behind the false security of walls, guards, and guns.

Real power came from patience. Like a spider spinning an intricate web, I only needed to wait for my prey to vibrate one of the gossamer filaments. To make one misstep. Once I had him, I intended to make him suffer the same fate as his victims, to watch life slowly fade from his black, soulless eyes.

The cartel Kyng peddled his poison on the streets while wearing Brioni like Bond. The man reeked of hypocrisy while reigning over his empire. His day of reckoning had come.

I’d become an artist, torture my medium. Kyng would be my masterpiece. He’d die a slow, agonizing death. I’d perfected my craft and refined my pharmaceuticals. In small doses, scopolamine could make my targets groggy, but I wanted their bodies stiff with the incapacitating effects, and I wanted their minds paralyzed with fear.

The first kill had gone unnoticed by law enforcement. Another drug dealer dead in the street, caught in the crossfire of a dangerous profession. Another followed. Both were members of Kyng’s cartel.

A smug smile curled my lips. Not even Kyng realized he had an enemy at the door. Then I killed Laf, the one considered his top general. As long as the medical examiner continued to rule the deaths as drug overdoses, I’d continue to send them to hell.

Sitting in the corner of Inferno, Kyng’s posh playpen of iniquity, I flicked open the lid of my lighter and rolled the wheel, striking the flint. Flames licked the wick. I breathed in the scent, snapped the lid closed, and then flipped it open again.

People crowded onto the dance floor of the posh downtown nightclub. Chrome, glass, and exclusivity. Music droned out the chatter of voices. Women wore leather. Sweat slicked their skin as they pulsed and gyrated on the dance floor. I didn’t come to dance. I was here for a specific purpose.

In the corner, roped off in a private area, Kyng surrounded himself with guards. Massive men scanned the crowd, protecting their boss. I lifted my cola to my lips, letting my gaze linger over the rim. The man smiled and laughed, arrogant in his position.

No one was untouchable. Every man had a weakness. Madden Kyng’s stood to his left. Nalini Bryan. My prey was stunningly beautiful but deceptively deadly.

Heat slipped under my skin with the hunt. A cascade of dark hair draped over her bare shoulder. Long lashes framed sultry brown eyes rimmed with black. Red slicked across her luscious lips. Leather pants rode low on her hips. The flawless flesh of her full tits played peek-a-boo through a red, lace-up corset. A diamond jewel winked from her bellybutton of her exposed midriff.

She was petite. I could span her waist with my hands or crush her throat with one fist. Movements were fluid as she swiveled her hips to the music. The song changed to something popular with a faster beat. The crowd cheered. One of the other girls tugged her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor.

Kyng grabbed her, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and yanked her onto his lap. His palm covered the tit cresting out of her corset, and his mouth slammed onto hers. He kissed her, groped her, then shoved her off his lap and smacked her ass.

Nalini stumbled to catch her balance as she wiped smudged lipstick from her face. Kyng bent over the table and snorted another line up his nose.

As Nalini and the blonde moved onto the dance floor, Kyng nodded at one of his men to follow them. In the crowd, I was just another guy dancing, looking to get laid.

I had the ability to blend in when I needed camouflaged but also to intimidate when the situation required it. To quote the movies, I had a particular set of skills that made me dangerous to men like Kyng. I could find anyone. Some might call me a killer. They’d be right. I killed. But I didn’t see it as murder.

I balanced the scales of justice.

True justice was an eye for an eye. Kyng was a drug dealer. His victims died with his poison in their veins. He didn’t know it yet, but he would. I was his endgame, and he’d meet the same fate.

Planning my next moves, I waited for an opportunity for checkmate. To kill the king, I’d take his queen. The one thing he couldn’t live without.

I slipped my lighter into my pocket. Staying near the edges of the dance floor, I worked my way closer to the women. Bodies with sweat-slicked skin bumped into me. The pungent odor of sweat blended with the cloying scent of perfumes. Lights flashed, and the bass of the music matched the steady rhythm of my pulse.

I wasn’t immune to the spike of adrenaline or the coil of tension knotting in my gut. I’d hunted, cloaked in the shadows. The fucker understood the game too well. Moves and countermoves.

It wasn’t enough to kill him. I wanted him to suffer.

For weeks, while watching Kyng, I’d watched her. She’d become an obsession as much as Madden. I wanted them both.