Happy Release Day to Stylo Fantome and her new book THE BAD ONES! Enter the giveaway for a chance to win a $50 Amazon Gift Card too - good luck! #ConnedIntoBeingBad
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.
Con finally unlocked the doors and she hefted herself into the massive vehicle. They sat in silence for a while, their breath fogging up the glass. Then he opened his mouth.
“Did he touch you?”
Dulcie knew he wasn't asking about the homeless man.
“Not in any way that counts,” she replied, turning to look at him. His hands had moved to grip the steering wheel.
“So he has touched you.”
“Jared was just an experiment, I wanted to see if -”
“You let him fucking touch you.”
“You fucking left me!” she was suddenly screaming. He didn't even flinch, just gripped the steering wheel harder. “You fucking left me in this fucking town, without a goddamn goodbye! Without a goddamn word! God, you have no idea what it's been like. That fucking camera, all those drawings. And there's all these people, and talking, and feeling this way, and all the blackness, and I don't even know what's wrong with me, and nothing. You come back, and it's like nothing to you. Oh hey, Dulcie. Where's your sketchbook, Dulcie. Come to a party, Dulcie. Let me just fuck this chick in the woods, Dulcie. So you know what? Yeah, he fucking touched me. I let him fucking touch me. And I hated every minute of it, and I would pretend it was you, and I would hate you, and I would hate myself, and I just let it happen.”
Con lunged across the seat, and absurdly, her first thought was “wow, he's really fast” before his fingers wrapped around her throat. She wasn't fazed, though, and she pushed right back, slapping him across the face. This only caused him to clench both hands around her neck and he yanked her forward, dragging her to him so their faces were only inches apart.
“Stupid little Dulcie,” he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. She held onto his wrists and glared at him, but didn't try to pull away. His fingers got tighter. “So scared of the big bad wolf.”
“I'm not … scared of you,” she managed to gasp out, but then his grip grew so tight he completely cut off her oxygen.
“Of course you aren't scared of me. I'm not the wolf. You are.”
So that's what was hiding behind the curtain. I wish you'd told me sooner, Con. We could've reveled in our darkness together.
It felt like a weight was lifted off her back. She'd been pretending for so long, and she hadn't even realized it. Had conditioned herself to do it. It was easier to believe Con was the darkness, and she was simply drawn to it. Basking in his wake. But it was all a lie – she was every bit as dark as him. They were the same animal. She'd just been better at deceiving herself. And now they'd evolved into something else, into a new, higher being.
Her lungs were throbbing, screaming for oxygen. She could feel her pulse pounding behind her face. Her mouth was open, but she couldn't make a sound. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, yet still they stared at each other. Recognizing each other, maybe for the first time ever.
Maybe for the last time.
What a way to die, looking into the face of this beautiful boy. What a gift.
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.
We are excited to participate in the release week event for Stylo's OUT OF PLANS, the much anticipated sequel to Best Laid Plans #RunningOutOfTime
♥ Buy the Book♥
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AUS
THE new PLAN:
* Find Marc
* Don't find Marc
* Take down a Russian Bratva boss
* Don't have sex with Kingsley
* Find Marc
* Take down a Colombian drug lord
* Don't fall for Marc again
* DON'T FIND MARC
* Kill every -
*
*
* SCREW THE PLAN AND JUST WING IT
This is the story of what happens when best laid plans fail, and a vengeful woman is forced to find her own way once again. A bond broken, trust shattered, and too many lies to keep track of find Marc and Lily all out of plans and running out of time. Can they find their way back to each other before trouble finds them first, or is it really the end of their journey?
If thisNOVEL were aMOVIE, it would have anR rating from the MPAA. Contains: Violence, Grisly Images, Strong Language, Nudity, and Graphic Sexual Content.
REVIEW: Out of plans
Brilliant and action packed. Love Lily & Marc <3
This is impossible... NO spoilers!
I am a huge Stylo Fantôme fan. I devoured book one and was left wanting more. Out of Plans delivers in spades! I loved it. I went with high expectations and I was not disappointed.
I was stoked that the whole gang was reunited. Marc, Kingsley and Lily 2.0. Lily is even more bad ass than ever before. She is so damn cool, loved her.
Marc... I was so mad. He's lucky he is sexy. And Kingsley... So damn sexy! I'm so excited about the RUMOURS he will get his own story.
One click it, read it & review it. It's an amazing ride!
Shock wasn't a big enough word to describe how Lily felt, looking up to find Marc staring at her in that ballroom. Anyone else. It literally could have been anyone else – her father, Mickey Mouse, Hitler, and she would've been less surprised. Marcelle De Sant wasn't real, anymore. He was a figment of her imagination, something that usually only appeared late at night, when she was alone and missing a more dangerous time in her life.
Besides, wasn't he supposed to be in Brazil!? Wasn't he ... anywhere she wasn't?
Wasn't he not quite this good looking!? It's unfair that such a dick can be so good looking.
Dancing with her was bad enough. They'd fought, as had always been in their nature, but it wasn't the same. She hated him. He'd lied to her, and he'd manipulated her, and he'd abandoned her. Told her she wasn't good enough, then told her to go home. She loathed him.
And yet, his arm was around her, and his eyes were so blue, and she'd missed him so much.
Rat bastard.
And of course, along with fighting, their other old friend made an appearance – bad luck. Next thing Lily had known, she was being dragged upstairs and shoved into a bedroom. There was arguing. There was kissing.
So really, it was just like old times.
The bedroom door swung open, but she barely registered it. Marc's hands were moving over her body, pressing down on her breasts. He moved one lower, sliding it over her hip and around to her ass, pulling her away from the wall and into himself. She ran her hands down his chest and worked them under his jacket, smoothing around to his back. She bit into his bottom lip and that earned her yet another groan, followed by his tongue filling her mouth.
Acting a part, acting a part. Not enjoying this at all. Nope, nooooope.
People were in the room. Someone was barking questions in Spanish. Marc ignored them, and the hand on her ass suddenly moved and grabbed her thigh, yanking her leg up to his hip. She made a big show of pulling his belt apart, all while his mouth moved down her neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses in its wake. His hands were back at her chest and buttons flew as he yanked open her blouse. One hand went down the top of her tank, and suddenly Lily didn't care that they had an audience. Marc was touching her again, that was all that mattered.
“Excuse me!” a voice barked out. “You cannot be in here. You go now.”
Marc's free hand began rooting around in his pocket, and he pulled out a handful of pesos. He held them out to the nearest guard.
“We go in twenty minutes,” he panted, shoving the money into an open hand.
“Twenty minutes? Jesus, that's disappointing,” she gave a husky laugh, then moaned when the hand on her breast squeezed.
“Alright. Twenty minutes. We come back, and you leave room,” they were warned.
But neither of them could answer, as their mouths met again and their tongues moved against each other.
Her mind had registered the length of time since he'd left her, but her body didn't notice it at all. It recognized his touch as if they'd been together just the day before; like no time had passed. It made it all even worse. Her brain had done a good job of pretending it was over him. But her body had longed for him for six months. Had missed him. Hadn't understood why he'd left.
That thought brought her to her senses, and Lily abruptly shoved him away. They were both breathing hard. Marc's pants were undone and Lily's blouse was hanging open. Her matte red lipstick was smeared across his mouth and chin. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her hips.
“Okay, we need to figure this out, right now,” she told him.
“Alright,” he agreed, though he seemed a little dazed. She resisted the urge to smirk.
“I didn't come here for you. Nothing I've done in the last six months has been for you,” she lied. “You're not a part of this. You were never a part of this, except for a couple weeks in Africa. I will not let you ruin this for me again, De Sant. When we walk out of this room, you're going to leave the house, and I'm going to finish this job.”
Marc's daze wore off and he glared as he put his pants back to rights.
“I've been a part of this since the moment you opened that safe, and you know it. What do you think I've been doing this whole time? Fucking vacationing? I'm not exactly getting paid for this shit.”
“No one asked you to do any of this shit. You just took it upon yourself. You just ran away and decided to solve a problem that wasn't even any of your business.”
He flinched and Lily smiled.
“I thought you'd understand,” he grumbled, glancing in a mirror that was behind her. He yanked off his bow tie and used it to wipe at lipstick around his mouth.
“Then you thought wrong.”
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.
We are excited to participate in the release week event for Stylo's OUT OF PLANS, the much anticipated sequel to Best Laid Plans #RunningOutOfTime
♥ Buy the Book♥
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AUS
THE new PLAN:
* Find Marc
* Don't find Marc
* Take down a Russian Bratva boss
* Don't have sex with Kingsley
* Find Marc
* Take down a Colombian drug lord
* Don't fall for Marc again
* DON'T FIND MARC
* Kill every -
*
*
* SCREW THE PLAN AND JUST WING IT
This is the story of what happens when best laid plans fail, and a vengeful woman is forced to find her own way once again. A bond broken, trust shattered, and too many lies to keep track of find Marc and Lily all out of plans and running out of time. Can they find their way back to each other before trouble finds them first, or is it really the end of their journey?
If thisNOVEL were aMOVIE, it would have anR rating from the MPAA. Contains: Violence, Grisly Images, Strong Language, Nudity, and Graphic Sexual Content.
Shock wasn't a big enough word to describe how Lily felt, looking up to find Marc staring at her in that ballroom. Anyone else. It literally could have been anyone else – her father, Mickey Mouse, Hitler, and she would've been less surprised. Marcelle De Sant wasn't real, anymore. He was a figment of her imagination, something that usually only appeared late at night, when she was alone and missing a more dangerous time in her life.
Besides, wasn't he supposed to be in Brazil!? Wasn't he ... anywhere she wasn't?
Wasn't he not quite this good looking!? It's unfair that such a dick can be so good looking.
Dancing with her was bad enough. They'd fought, as had always been in their nature, but it wasn't the same. She hated him. He'd lied to her, and he'd manipulated her, and he'd abandoned her. Told her she wasn't good enough, then told her to go home. She loathed him.
And yet, his arm was around her, and his eyes were so blue, and she'd missed him so much.
Rat bastard.
And of course, along with fighting, their other old friend made an appearance – bad luck. Next thing Lily had known, she was being dragged upstairs and shoved into a bedroom. There was arguing. There was kissing.
So really, it was just like old times.
The bedroom door swung open, but she barely registered it. Marc's hands were moving over her body, pressing down on her breasts. He moved one lower, sliding it over her hip and around to her ass, pulling her away from the wall and into himself. She ran her hands down his chest and worked them under his jacket, smoothing around to his back. She bit into his bottom lip and that earned her yet another groan, followed by his tongue filling her mouth.
Acting a part, acting a part. Not enjoying this at all. Nope, nooooope.
People were in the room. Someone was barking questions in Spanish. Marc ignored them, and the hand on her ass suddenly moved and grabbed her thigh, yanking her leg up to his hip. She made a big show of pulling his belt apart, all while his mouth moved down her neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses in its wake. His hands were back at her chest and buttons flew as he yanked open her blouse. One hand went down the top of her tank, and suddenly Lily didn't care that they had an audience. Marc was touching her again, that was all that mattered.
“Excuse me!” a voice barked out. “You cannot be in here. You go now.”
Marc's free hand began rooting around in his pocket, and he pulled out a handful of pesos. He held them out to the nearest guard.
“We go in twenty minutes,” he panted, shoving the money into an open hand.
“Twenty minutes? Jesus, that's disappointing,” she gave a husky laugh, then moaned when the hand on her breast squeezed.
“Alright. Twenty minutes. We come back, and you leave room,” they were warned.
But neither of them could answer, as their mouths met again and their tongues moved against each other.
Her mind had registered the length of time since he'd left her, but her body didn't notice it at all. It recognized his touch as if they'd been together just the day before; like no time had passed. It made it all even worse. Her brain had done a good job of pretending it was over him. But her body had longed for him for six months. Had missed him. Hadn't understood why he'd left.
That thought brought her to her senses, and Lily abruptly shoved him away. They were both breathing hard. Marc's pants were undone and Lily's blouse was hanging open. Her matte red lipstick was smeared across his mouth and chin. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her hips.
“Okay, we need to figure this out, right now,” she told him.
“Alright,” he agreed, though he seemed a little dazed. She resisted the urge to smirk.
“I didn't come here for you. Nothing I've done in the last six months has been for you,” she lied. “You're not a part of this. You were never a part of this, except for a couple weeks in Africa. I will not let you ruin this for me again, De Sant. When we walk out of this room, you're going to leave the house, and I'm going to finish this job.”
Marc's daze wore off and he glared as he put his pants back to rights.
“I've been a part of this since the moment you opened that safe, and you know it. What do you think I've been doing this whole time? Fucking vacationing? I'm not exactly getting paid for this shit.”
“No one asked you to do any of this shit. You just took it upon yourself. You just ran away and decided to solve a problem that wasn't even any of your business.”
He flinched and Lily smiled.
“I thought you'd understand,” he grumbled, glancing in a mirror that was behind her. He yanked off his bow tie and used it to wipe at lipstick around his mouth.
“Then you thought wrong.”
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.
![Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00014]](http://shhmomsreading.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/TBO.Teaser4-Release.jpg)
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.
