Dove Glitch is embarrassed about everything above her knees and below her belly button. When she has to fill a delicate, embarrassing prescription the last thing she needs is a sexy-as-hell (and brand spanking new) pharmacist behind the counter.
Johnson Fitzwell’s first day of his dream career also happens to coincide with the exact moment Dove needs her feminine meds filled. His glorious voice is way too loud–as in, he should be counting down the hits with Ryan Seacrest kind of loud. Thanks to Johnson’s handsome face and gorgeous jaw line, Dove dives headlong into her waking nightmare and asks for a vagina-scented cream.
How could she not fall for him? Dove's only active goal now is to get Johnson to kiss her right on the lips. Either set. However, his horrible girlfriend is one of many obstacles preventing her from making that fantasy a reality. When Dove defends Johnson in the most unhygienic, unconventionally gross way in the middle of a crowded restaurant, their tender, slightly tantric relationship is off to a galloping, farting start.
Each print copy of this book will be dipped in holy water by my mom, and glared at by my father as he purses his lips. Neither will help. So, drop your pants and turn to the left and cough. I hope you're not allergic to latex, because it’s time to fill your prescription. Anally.
Oh God. We’re talking about me being naked, in the shower with cooter cream. Please world, end. Kill me.
“I know it’s not soap. I just… if it’s scented… I can’t do scented. Flowers and stuff like that. Fruit-flavored soaps make… things… burnish.” She could tell from the peeks at his face Mr. Fitzwell had never stepped foot in bath and lotion store, wanting to try the array of fun fragrances. Nor had he purchased Peppermint Candy shower gel, foamed up his nether regions, and felt like he had dipped them in lava. Dove crossed and uncrossed her legs at the memory.
Mr. Fitzwell seemed concerned. “Okay, just a heads-up. It’s definitely not good to put any fruits or plant life near your genitals.” He made a V with his hands and formed his own pretend vagina in front of his pants.
Dove covered her eyes and tried to defend herself because now she could hear the sickly older woman beating her supporters with a purse.
Dove’s mumbling got louder with her embarrassment. “I don’t put weird things down… there. Just make sure that the cream’s vagina-scented. Just plain. For vaginas.” She kept her eyes on the counter.
~~ Excerpt ~~
Sweet heavens above!! I don’t think I have recovered from reading this read that is so wrong on so many levels. It left me like this:
Only from the twisted devious mind of Debra Anastasia could a story full of everyone’s hilariously twisted ridiculous nightmares come to life. Seriously if half of the things that happen to poor Dove happened to me I would beg them to put a 72 hour hold on me.
And the cast of characters absolutely rev up the craziness to levels that have to read to believe. There is Duke who is her sausage loving, downright inappropriate, downstairs neighbor who loves to score some “amazing” free deals from Craig’s list. Of course her best friends Shannon and Flower pull her into a “ring” of embarrassing situations that just leave you speechless. I do have to mention that you might recognize her sexpot upstairs neighbor lol.
This is a great tongue-in-cheek over the top read that will make you tear up from laughing and cringing. But let me tell you the ending left me………
Now to take a shower......…….or 2….....…with really hot water...….......and pick up a prescription…….....or 2…………..
It’s 4 stars from me.
P.S. You will never think of Olive Garden the same way again lol.
There are a lot of eyes in Debra Anastasia’s house in Maryland. First, her own creepy peepers are there, staring at her computer screen. She’s made two more sets of eyes with her body, and the kids they belong to are amazing. The poor husband is still looking at her after 17 years of marriage. At least he likes to laugh. Then the freaking dogs are looking at her—six eyeballs altogether, though the old dog is blind. And the cat watches her too, mostly while knocking stuff off the counter and doing that internal kitty laugh when Deb can’t catch the items fast enough.
Debra has a smattering of books in a few genres. There are two in the Seraphim Series and three in the Poughkeepsie Brotherhood Series with a prequel, Poughkeepsie Begins in the near future. Fire Down Below is the first in the comedic Gynzaule Series. The second, Fire in the Hole, will be published in late 2015. The Revenger, a dark paranormal romance will debut this summer. And last, a novella called Late Night with Andres is special because 100% of the proceeds go to breast cancer research. (So go get it right now, please!) You can find her at DebraAnastasia.com and on Twitter @Debra_Anastasia. But be prepared... Social Media Links:
Barnes & Noble Goodreads
~~ Giveaway ~~
Win a eCopy of FIRE DOWN BELOW with a matching maxi pad puppet. (The puppet is US Only).
Comment on this post and a winner will be chosen at random.
Giveaway closes on March 4th at 8pm est. Winner has 72 hours to claim prize. If prize is not claimed another winner will then be chosen
The Token 9: Chet Sinclair by Marata Eros
(The Token #9)
Publication date: February 27th 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance
Kiki is desperate to stop the twisted relationship she shares with Chet Sinclair, but finds that she can’t. He is too vital, too potent… like a magnet, she cleaves to him. Desperate to break the pattern, she goes into hiding to escape her feelings and a ghost from her past comes back to haunt her.
Needy and unnerved, Kiki turns to the one person that offered her solace from the past. Can Damon Axton erase what’s begun? Will he be the one to break the cycle of sexual intensity and obsession that Chet uses to imprison her, body and soul?
A Recompense of Love.
When Sinclair discovers where Kiki is hiding, their passion explodes once again. Can either admit their true feelings for each other? Or will sensual enslavement destroy their dark love before it has begun?
“No.” I stare down at Ax from where's he perched on the beat-up futon—my bed. “We're not a team until we get some shit straight.”
Ax's jet black eyebrow hops to his hairline. “Baby—”
“No,” I say, waving a palm in his face like a railroad arm coming down over a track. “Don't you baby me.” My eyes shoot sparks, and he leans back with a grunt.
“You clobbered Chet.” I cross my arms.
“Yeah-huh.” He gives his short hair a rough scrub. “And Chump was deserving, Kik.”
I stomp my high heel. “Maybe!” I stab the air with my finger. “But you nailed him from behind, and now he's, I don't know, dead or broken somewhere.”
Ax shakes his head. “I've looked into Chet-buddy, and his rich ass can take care of its own self.” He wags a finger and leans back again.
I pace as if the energy is pouring off me. I whirl and point at him.
His eyes narrow on my hot pink nail tip.
“You have a closet full of chick’s clothing,” I say.
Ax shrugs, giving my once-pristine outfit an eye rake. “I see you made use of it.”
His expression is unreadable, not the open face I remember so well. “The Crawl isn't my only business, Kik. I have some others.”
“What do you mean?” I search his face, and a flicker skates across his dark gaze. “Don't bullshit me, Ax. It won't work. I'm a fucking hard-charging broad. You know this.”
He grins, white teeth slashing across his face. “Oh, I know. Damn, girl, do I know.” He chuckles. “This isn't where I normally hang. In fact, this is just a little lily pad I hop on to sleep over once in a while. Sometimes employees from my other businesses need somewhere to crash, and I give them a boost.”
“How much of a boost?” I'm aware my voice has just dipped into suspicion.
“Kik…” His eyes meet mine, and they're not remotely soft, but hard as flint. “Why do I feel you're coming down hard on me when I've been doing nothing but helping you? Let me count the ways of my awesome.” He winks, ticking off his great points on his fingers. “I took you in when Chump was admiring his own dick.” I roll my eyes, and he continues. “I haven't put the moves on your hotness.”
Marata Eros (a pen name for Tamara Rose Blodgett), is the NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author of A Terrible Love. Marata has more than thirty-five titles in multiple genres including Dark Fantasy, Dark Romance as well as her highly successful Dark Erotica series.
Marata lives in South Dakota with her husband, children and fur kids. She is an ardent reader of many genres. Tamara enjoys interacting with her readers via Twitter, blog and newsletter as often as possible. Please stop by and say hi :)
Every passion has its price . . .
Journalist Sophie Ryder has been following Emery Lockwood’s story since she was a little girl. There has always been something in his haunted eyes that she couldn’t resist and now, when she’s certain he holds the key to solving a string of kidnappings, she’ll do anything to speak to him. Even if it means venturing deep into the seductive world of the Gilded Cuff, a luxurious BDSM club on Long Island’s Gold Coast and Emery’s personal playground.
From the moment Sophie enters his shadowy, sensual domain, Emery Lockwood knows this tantalizing new little sub was meant to belong to him. However, Sophie wants more from Emery than just pleasure . . . she wants his past. And that is something he isn’t willing to give—no matter who is asking. But every moment he spends with Sophie, Emery feels his control slipping and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he surrenders to her heart, body, and soul.
Sophie barely had time to protest at the dom’s tight hold on her wrist before he dragged her across the room to where a group of people circled a couch against the wall. She could have said “red” and stopped whatever game he’d intended to play so she could keep searching for Emery, but the word died on her lips. A large crowd of people all turned to face her, amusement flashing in their eyes. The crowd’s focus on her was not comforting in the slightest. She was prey, for a so-called contest, in a BDSM club. Searching the faces for Emery’s, she prayed she’d be lucky enough to find him. If not, she’d use her safe word and get free of the man and his “contest.”
Holding her, he grinned darkly at the onlookers. “Found a newbie. She’ll be perfect.”
Sophie again jerked to get her wrist back and failed. She stifled a gasp as he promptly smacked her bottom with an open hand. Her gaze darted across the crowd, trying to seek out Emery’s familiar face. He had to be here somewhere. Most of the club members had moved in to watch her and this dom.
“Stand still, bow your head,” he commanded.
To her shock she obeyed instantly—not because she naturally bowed to anyone who shoved her around, but because something inside her responded to the commanding tone he’d just used on her. He seemed like a man who would enjoy punishing her, and she knew enough about this lifestyle to know she never wanted to end up over a spanking bench, even if the idea did make her insides flare to life.
“Bring her here, Royce.” A cool, rich voice spoke, pouring over her skin like whisky—slightly rough, with an intoxicating bite to it. When this man spoke, the voices murmuring around her stopped and a hush fell over the area.
The crowd around her and the man, Royce, parted. Another man, sitting on the blue brocaded couch, watched them. His large hands rested on his thighs, fingers impatiently drumming a clipped beat. Royce shoved Sophie none too gently, sending her to her knees right at the man’s feet. She reacted instinctively, throwing her hands out to balance herself, and her palms fell on his thighs and her chest collided with his knees.
Air rushed out of her lungs in a soft whoosh. For a few seconds she fought to regain her breath as she leaned against the stranger for support. The large muscles beneath his charcoal pants jumped and tensed beneath her hands, and she whipped her palms off him as though burned. She’d practically been in the man’s lap, the heat of his body warming her, tempting her with his close proximity. Hastily she dropped her head and rested her hands on her own thighs, waiting. It took every ounce of her willpower to concentrate on breathing.
She still didn’t look at his face, focusing instead on his expensive black shoes, the precision cuffs of his dark charcoal pants. Her eyes then tracked up his body, noting the crisp white shirt and thin, blood red tie he wore. It was loosened beneath the undone top button of his dress shirt. She had the sudden urge to crawl into his lap and trail kisses down his neck and taste him.
“Raise your eyes,” the voice demanded.
Sophie drew a deep breath, letting air fill her, making her almost light-headed. And then she looked up.
Her heart leapt into her throat and her brain short-circuited.
Emery Lockwood, the object of her darkest fantasies, the ones she’d buried deep in her heart in the hours just before dawn, was looking down at her, predatory curiosity gleaming in his gaze. He trapped her with a magnetic pull, an air of mystery. She was caught in invisible strands of a spell woven around her body and soul.
The boy’s soft angelic features were there, hidden beneath the surface of the man before her. He was the most devastatingly, sensual man she’d ever seen. His high cheekbones, full lips, and aquiline nose were all parts of the face of a man in his early thirties. But his eyes—the color of nutmeg and framed with long dark lashes any woman would kill to have—were the same as those of the wounded eight-year-old boy in her photo. Although she could see that they’d hardened with two decades of grief.
He was masculine perfection, except for the thin, almost invisible scar that ran the length of his sharp jaw line. Even after twenty-five years, he still bore the marks of his suffering. She ached with every cell in her body to press her mouth to his, to steal fevered kisses from his lips. Her fingertips tingled with the need to stroke over the scar on his face, to smooth away the hurt he must have endured.
“Do you know the rules of our game?” Emery asked. As he spoke, his gaze still held her in place, like a butterfly caught beneath a pin and encased in glass. Hands trembling, she pursed her lips and tried to remain calm and collected. It was nearly impossible. The heat of his intense regard only increased as the corners of his mouth curved in a slow, wicked smile. Oh, the man knew just how he affected her!
Emery leaned forward, caught her chin in his palm, and tilted her face up to look at him. Her skin burned deliciously where his palm touched her. He pulled her, like the moon calling to the tides, demanding devotion and obedience with the promise of something great, something she couldn’t understand. Her senses hummed with eagerness, ready to explore his touch, his taste. Like a minnow caught in a vast current, she was pulled out to deeper waters, helpless to resist. In any other situation, she wouldn’t have been so off balance, and wouldn’t be letting herself get sucked into this strange game she sensed she was about to play. But here in this dark fantasy of the Gilded Cuff, she didn’t want to look away from him.
Lara knows she should feel lucky. Married to the man of her dreams, with a gorgeous new baby, she should be enjoying her happy-ever-after. But she never expected motherhood to be so difficult, or for her life to change so dramatically.
Alex has it all: hot, tattooed looks, a beautiful wife, and a band that's finally getting noticed. A lucrative offer of a US tour should be the icing on the cake. But as he leaves the country, distance isn't the only thing that starts to pull their relationship apart.
With half a world dividing them, Alex and Lara have to battle for a marriage they once took for granted.
Broken Chords is the second story in the Love in London series but can be read completely as a stand-alone.
Though it's a series, it's not a serial and there are no cliffhangers, each book features a different couple!
“What do you do the rest of the week?”
“I’m a good girl. I go to bed early.”
My heart sped at that question. It was loaded, obviously, but the way he put it out there so soon seemed genuine.
“Alone with my thoughts.”
“Alone with your thoughts,” he repeated, slowly nodding his head. “You use your right or your left hand for that?”
I coughed out a laugh. Dirty boy. “You seem very interested in my bedroom habits, Mr Cartwright. There are some things a girl likes to keep secret.”
“I bet you use your left hand,” he carried on, as if I hadn't spoken. His voice lowered, so I had to step forward to hear him.
The next time he spoke I felt his breath tickling at my ear. “I'd pay good money to see you alone with your thoughts.”
Carrie Elks lives near London, England and writes contemporary romance with a dash of intrigue. At the age of twenty-one she left college with a political science degree, a healthy overdraft and a soon-to-be husband. She loves to travel and meet new people, and has lived in the USA and Switzerland as well as the UK. An avid social networker, she tries to limit her Facebook and Twitter time to stolen moments between writing chapters. When she isn’t reading or writing, she can usually be found baking, drinking wine or working out how to combine the two.
Social Media Links:
****18+ due to adult language and explicit sexual content*****
Caspian Vance~former child prodigy, now an accomplished professor of human sexuality at twenty-six has it all—an IQ that's off the charts, a stellar career at which he excels, and the drop-dead looks and body that make women spontaneously combust with lust.
He's been studying sex and women's behavior since he was sixteen. When it comes to the science of human lust and the rewards of sexual pursuits, he has all the answers.
There's one thing he knows for sure: "love" has nothing to do with it.
Sex is a basic, primal human need—love is an unstable, emotional complication. Both are present in a person, but completely unrelated. His own world of logic and fact accepts this truth and now. . .
He's going to prove it.
When Cass takes a sabbatical to research his theory in order to write his third book, he enlists the help of a former lover and now owner of the world's most exotic and secretive male brothel catering strictly to wealthy older women. On this remote Caribbean island, he uses his keen sense of observation and research to prove "love" is merely a series of chemical reactions in the human brain—nothing more.
Nicola Barrington~ had the perfect life, married to her soul mate.Ten years into her one and only relationship, her idyllic world is shattered by the death of her beloved husband. The loss of her "one true love" sends her into seclusion where she spends the next eleven years pining for the man she still loves.
The beautiful heiress, stays hidden away, her only connection to the outside world being being the hired help and her two close friends. Her friends know Nic has much to live for and are eager to see her find love again. . . and if not love, they would settle for her rediscovering the throes of lust.
As her 40th birthday approaches, her two friends succeed in coaxing her out of her emotionally safe haven to celebrate with a trip to an exclusive resort known for "restoring an older woman's brilliant, inner glow."
Caspian’s superiority and logic combined with Nic's innocence and melancholy are on an imminent collision course. Sometimes even a genius has a hard time figuring out a woman. (less)
Griffin Hancock is tired of being stuck behind Kellan Kyle's spotlight. He's the best, the main event, and everyone should know it. He has Anna, and his beautiful daughter Gibson, and to hell with the rest of them. A new venture presents itself, and Griffin decides this is his chance. When he tells the band about his new side gig, they are less than supportive. Undaunted by their criticism, Griffin decides to take matters into his own hands. Packing up his family, he leaves Seattle behind and returns to L.A. to break out on his own. But success isn't as easy as Griffin thought it would be, and he soon finds that the phrase 'You don't know what you've got until it's gone', is all too true. About S.C. Stephens
S. C. Stephens is a #1 bestselling author who enjoys creating stories that are packed with emotion and heavy on romance. In addition to writing, she likes spending lazy afternoons in the sun reading, listening to music, watching movies, and spending time with her friends and family. She and her two children reside in the Pacific Northwest. Connect with S.C. online!
@SC_Stephens_ www.AuthorSCStephens.com/ http://facebook.com/SCStephensAuthor https://www.goodreads.com/SCStephens
Soon to be at retailers everywhere including Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million, iTunes, Kobo, and IndieBound too!
Meet Becks & Haddie in SLOW BURN - the newest stand alone in the
Driven Series by K. Bromberg!
ONE NIGHT. THAT'S ALL IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE.
Reeling from the sudden loss of her sister, Haddie Montgomery has sworn off relationships. All she wanted from Beckett Daniels was a sexy distraction to help her escape her pain for just a little while....There weren’t supposed to be any strings attached—so why can’t she shake the memory of that unforgettable night from her thoughts? Or the taste of his kiss from her lips?
No matter how hard Haddie tries to forget about him, Becks relentlessly tries to prove that she should start living for today. But she is determined to avoid romantic commitment, and she can always use her ex-boyfriend’s reappearance to help snuff out the slow burn within her that Becks has sparked....
Or will fate force her to realize that this kind of connection doesn’t come along very often and a chance at love is worth the risk?
“Yeah. That’s one way to put it. Is there something else you called for besides trying to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong?”
I open my mouth and then shut it, unsure how calling him because I just needed to hear his voice has devolved so quickly into this. Into me scrambling for words I can’t find to fix shit that doesn’t need fixing.
Because I don’t want this. Don’t want him.
“Well then, if you want to actually talk instead of pull this ridiculous bullshit, I’m here for you…but Had…? Whatever this is here…this passive aggressive crap? I don’t do too well with that. We had our one night. You made it quite clear you didn’t want anything more than that so you don’t get to call me up and question what I might or might not be doing with anybody else. You want no strings? Then cut the ties…but frankly I don’t think you know what the fuck you want so until you figure your shit out, I think it’s best that we say good night before we make a bad situation even worse.”
“Wait!” Desperation rings in my voice in the single word. And I hate myself for sounding like this but I’m so lonely, so scared and just want the comfort I know he can bring me right now.
I wait for the sound of the dial tone to assault my ears. Wait for the incessant beep that reaffirms why I have barbed wire wrapped around my heart – painful but necessary. But there is nothing for a few moments until I hear the phone scrape against the stubble on his face.
And I wait…my throat burning with the tears I want to shed but am so sick of. The ones that no longer bring me comfort.
“I’m here, Haddie. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” The timbre of his voice carries his concern and sympathy to me through the line.
The incoherent sound I make is all I can offer in thank you to him for not hanging up on me. For not giving up on me.
About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author K. Bromberg is that reserved woman sitting in the corner who has you all fooled about the wild child inside of her—the one she lets out every time her fingertips touch the computer keyboard.
K. lives in Southern California with her husband and three children. When she needs a break from the daily chaos of her life, you can most likely find her on the treadmill or with Kindle in hand, devouring the pages of a good, saucy book.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Her debut novels, Driven, Fueled, and Crashed of The Driven Trilogy were well received and went on to become multi-platform bestsellers as well as landing on the New York Times and USA Today lists. Her other works include a short story, UnRaveled, and a companion piece to The Driven Trilogy titled Raced. She is currently working on three stand alone Driven novels, Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, and Hard Beat. She also plans to release a novel addressing the 10 year gap at the ending of Crashed in late fall 2015 Website
Opposites attract, or so the saying goes. When two people from different worlds come together by a chance meeting twisted with an element of danger, can their attraction remain innocent?
She's a corporate accountant. Her life is full of structure, routine, and organization. Settled, comfortable, and content, Caroline Milton, loves knowing what to expect every minute of every day.
He's the Catawba Hellions VP and a wild one, refusing to be tamed. His motto, 'hit it, get it, and go; no repeats' where women are concerned, guarantees a new woman in his bed nightly. His life suddenly tilted on its axis, when his wild days come barreling back with a major responsibility. Drexel 'Rex' Crews finds he has a real reason to settle down his wild ways.
When a situation quickly spins out of control at work for Caroline, she reaches out to the one place she least expected to find herself dependent upon. The Hellions Motorcycle Club.
His cousin's ol' lady, Doll, comes to him with a personal favor, protect her best friend. He can't refuse. Protecting Caroline was supposed to be an innocent task.
The attraction from their first meeting is still a fire burning strong inside of them both. Neither can deny the pull. They come from different worlds.
Can Rex show Caroline the safety and security of the MC? Can Caroline tame the wild beast inside of Rex? Can their innocent ride become a journey to long lasting love?
The Man I Am Copyright © Chelsea Camaron 2015 ~Rex~
As the wind whips around me, she dances violently, slapping the leather of my cut harshly against my T-shirt covered chest. A storm is brewing in the air around me as another one rages on inside my darkened soul.
The road before me is curvy. They call it Dead Man’s Trail. Riding a ledge is what it feels like. With the fine line of one wrong move, life and death are in the balance as the road winds through a mountain.
I am hours from home, and I still can’t bring myself to turn around and go back. I am not on a transport or on a run for the club. I am out alone, just me, my Harley, and the open night sky.
Not a star shines tonight as the humidity rises and the wind swirls through the thick air. A summer storm is in the midst. My mind races as the pipes on my bike scream out under the pressure of my speed. “Be a man to be proud of. Carry your name—our name—with pride,”
Pop’s voice echoes in my head.
A name. My name. Our name.
Tessie gave my boy—her son, my son, our son—my name. My
Axel Devon Crews. Mini-me. One look and I fucking knew he was mine. My gut twists. Mine.
My blood. My responsibility. My name. My fucking mirror image.
Throttle down, I push on faster, harder, needing to feel something slice through me besides the disappointments running through my mind. My life is officially at a crossroads, every mistake of my past now shoved in the forefront of my mind.
How did I get so lost? How have I become so consumed in things that don’t matter? When did I become so self-absorbed?
I would lay down my life to protect the very cut moving across my back right now. Yet, the woman who freely lay beneath me, giving her body, heart, and soul to me, I left without a glance back. She ripped her body—literally—to give life to my seed, and I did nothing more than wink, smile, and move on to the next woman. I was so focused on myself I missed the signs. I should have known. Hell, I should have been there.
Then, when the opportunity came for me to step up for her, did I do it? No. Shooter stepped in like I knew he would. He is a far better man than I am. Tessie deserves a man like him, not the mess that is me. No matter what life throws at them, he will be there to have her back, to be her security. He will be her strength and her calm within the storm. He will be her best friend and her lover. Everything that Tessie needs, wants, and damn sure deserves is found in the man I now proudly call my brother.
Sure, there was a time I wanted to rip him limb from limb. He went after what could have been mine. No, he didn’t go after her, not really, not if I keep it real with myself. I pushed him there. I sent him to her. I gave him what could have been my future. The only person to blame here is me. She needed me, and I tossed her off to him. My mistakes. My losses. I know, if I am ever given a chance to have something good again, I am not going to waste my opportunity.
When the clouds open up, the hot rain comes down, pelting me in the face, on my arms, and all my exposed skin. The road beneath me gets slick as I push on. Soft gravel gives way, and my back tire shifts under me. I don’t correct the movement. The delicate balance keeping me upright drops as does my bike, and my body hits the pavement hard. Gravel digs in even through the denim of my pants as the material rips. I feel my arms shred as my bike is no longer under my now broken body, only the unforgiving road.
Broken, shredded, a bloody mess of a man—that is what I am.
Pops’ voice is the last thing to sound through my head as I succumb to the blackness consuming me. “The past is the past; the future is before you. Change is a power we all hold. Learning from your mistakes is growth, and it’s a necessary change. How you pick yourself up when you hit rock bottom will tell what kind of man you really are.”
About the Author
Chelsea Camaron was born and raised in Coastal North Carolina. She currently resides in Southern Louisiana with her husband and two children but her heart is always Carolina day dreaming.
Chelsea always wanted to be a writer, but like most of us, let fear of the unknown grab a hold of her dream; she realized that if she was going to tell her daughter to go for her dreams, that it was time to follow her own advice.
Chelsea grew up turning wrenches alongside her father, and from that grew her love for old muscle cars and Harley Davidson motorcycles, which just so happened to inspired her ‘Daddy’s Girls’ series. Her love for reading has sparked a new love for writing and she currently has a few more projects in the works.
When she is not spending her days writing you can find her playing with her kids, attending car shows, going on motorcycle rides on the back of her husband’s Harley, snuggling down with her new favorite book or watching any movie that Vin Diesel might happen to be in.
She hates being serious and is still a big kid at heart. She is a small town country girl enjoying life and, Chelsea hopes that her readers remember not to take life too seriously and to embrace your inner five year old, because five year olds know how to enjoy the simple things in life and how to always have fun.