His to Have
by Devon Birchley
Publication date: June 27th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
Synopsis:
Fifty Shades of Grey for the Girls generation.
Reagan
There’s a whole bunch of things I need right now—to feel at home in this big, lonely city. To stop working my ass off. To find myself a nice, normal guy. One thing I sure as hell don’t need is Adler Montgomery crashing into my world and telling me what I need.
Cock-sure, tattooed, moneyed, too sexy for his own good. Not my type, at all. And yet…
When his hand tightens in my hair, suddenly, all I need is him.
He opens my eyes to a whole new world, possesses me in every possible way, sets me on fire with his sweet, filthy words. And then he pushes me away. I know I should run, keep my heart safe, but that turns out to be the hardest thing of all.
Adler
She thought I was giving her a line. And that’s probably for the best, because the truth is dangerous. No-one’s eyes have ever looked so vulnerable, made me want to break all my rules. They make me chase her when I know I shouldn’t. They make me cruel; they make me soft. But more than that, they make me feel. And I don’t like that.
I tell myself she’s only a sub, that I’m helping her to discover her dark side. But the more I listen to her smart, feisty voice and the more I see she doesn’t take any crap from anyone, the deeper I fall. I’ve never met anyone like Reagan Lockhart before, but letting her in could mean ruin for both of us.
—
His to Have is a very steamy new adult romance with a perfect HEA.
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Excerpt:
“Exquisitely
made,” he says. I spin around and receive my second jolt of the evening. I’m
face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered man...He has golden-brown hair, cut
short at the sides, with a long-top pushed back in a messy quiff, dark,
straight brows, and dark scruff covering a firm jaw. His lips are full, and his
eyes are soulful, golden-brown, and almost puppyish. In short, he looks like he
just walked out of a fashion shoot in Brooklyn, or some equally edgy
neighborhood. I’m holding the crop in both hands, but he’s not looking at it—he’s
running his eyes all over my body without a hint of shame.
“Is
it?” I say, as neutrally as I can.
He
nods. “Very. But the real beauty is in its execution. I’d be happy to show you
how it works.” There’s a flicker of heat between my thighs.
“I—I’m
not into this stuff.” One of those straight, thick eyebrows lifts a smidgen in
tandem with a corner of his mouth.
“Sex?
You’re not into sex?”
“I
mean…” I gesture at the row of whips hanging on hooks along the stall front.
“This. Bondage.”
The
quirk in his lips becomes a full-on smirk. “Bondage is something a little
different. But it could certainly be a precursor to me using a whip on you.”
“Whatever.
It’s not my thing. None of it.”
He
leans in, using his height advantage. “I think it is.” His voice has become a
gravelly purr, like the sound a predatory animal makes when it has its prey in
its sights. And he’s so close that I can smell him—a rich, spicy scent tempered
with expensive cologne. “I can see it in your eyes.”
*
It’s
bone-chillingly cold, but for once I’m grateful for it. It takes the heat out
of my mood. No one in my entire life has made me feel as angry and irritated
and turned on at the same time as this man.
“Who
the hell does he think he is?” I mutter to myself like a crazy person. I can’t
stand the type of people who make a judgment about you, based on nothing at
all, then can’t wait to share it with you. It’s one of my pet hates. I reach
the entrance to the subway and cling to the handrail, accustomed to the
slippery mush at the top of the stairs.
“Reagan!”
comes a deep, sexy voice from behind me. Adler’s striding toward me in an
expensive-looking navy wool coat. He looks commanding, purposeful, and against
my will, my body responds again. The world slows down as he comes up to me,
puts his hands on my waist, and crushes his lips against mine. They’re so warm,
his tongue so velvety and agile as it slides into my mouth. It’s a passionate,
passionate kiss that leaves me dizzy.
“I
shouldn’t have left without kissing you,” he says, keeping his face close to
mine. And then he turns and carries right on, striding along the sidewalk.
People are staring at me, girls in their twenties with naked envy plastered
across their faces.
AUTHOR BIO:
Devon Birchley writes wild romances with a dirty twist. Her stories are full of forbidden excitements, sexy and intimidating men, guilty pleasures and spine-tingling happily ever afters!
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