Addiction can come in many forms. A domino effect can ripple and ruin an entire family. Many times there are such faint warning signs, that they are missed or masked by the addict who’s filled with shame, self-loathing, and fear. This loved one will go to any length to perfect a façade of nothing being wrong. And there are times when the person who’s failing to succeed has no idea why or has suppressed pain and trauma so deep down just the thought of dealing further compounds the situation. Almost every family has one member who has an addiction or an addictive personality. We see it all the time. No one knows until an autobiography is written or a documentary is done. The fallout is immediate, but putting back together the broken pieces is a long painstaking process that takes strength, courage and the will to live.
Whatever the addiction be it alcohol, drugs, food, sex, etc. There is always help.
The Price of Defiance is about a young woman who self-destructs by choices she makes. Her choices have a cataclysmic effect on those around her. Much like a heroine junkie, she’s gets off on a rush that is created by her own body. No external drug but an internal receptor in the pleasure center of the brain gives her a high that is equivalent to a heavy street drug dosage. She’s an adrenalin addict and unlike professionals her amateur and illegal hobby—her dark hunger doesn’t care what gets in its path. There are no safety measures, no emergency personnel, just a bunch of young men and women in the dead of the night playing Russian roulette with their lives and those in the crowd watching them for social status and a purse full of cold hard cash. The cash is a secondary win. The major win is street credit and notoriety. She needs an intervention before death knocks at her door or manslaughter.
America Patterson loves living on the edge. Car model by day, illegal street racer by night, she’s known as the best. Except underneath her flawless façade lies a young woman filled with turmoil. When her hobby lands her in hot water, she finds herself handcuffed and bailed out by the one person who’d abandoned her….
MMA Fighter Alejandro Escovedo is summoned home after a tournament that had left him sore and questioning his career. Expecting a nice welcome home, he instead finds himself rescuing his best friend’s sister out of jail. This time he’s had enough.
Their explosive past gives him all the rights where America is concerned, and he is more than ready to take her on. By ending her daredevil ways and finding the trigger to her self-destructive behavior, will he convince her he’s back to stay or drive her further away?
Genre: Erotic romance, BDSM, contemporary
The shrill of her cordless phone disrupted her peace. Against her better judgment, she ducked inside to grab it and returned to her perch on the cushioned chair. “Hello. No, I’m not interested in commenting.” She hung up and frowned. On impulse she dialed Jayshaun’s number. “Hey…been worried ’bout you.”
“Yeah?” She sighed into the phone after hearing his voice. “I found out you went to jail, and Vincent said he sent Alejandro to get you. You good?”
“I’m fine.” She tipped her head back.
“You’re all over the net. I can’t believe you drove into a building. I almost died watching in slow mo. So how are things? Lover boy looked pissed fending off the piranha scumbags and their microphones.”
“Yes, Alejandro is back, and it’s complicated. Of course, he was angry—is angry. I’m not sure. He’s not here right now.”
“Good. Listen, there’s news of another race in a few weeks. Get well so you can win the purse. It’s double what you lost last race. You’ll want in on this. Drivers will be using escorts and scouts via Bluetooth. No one wants a repeat of this week.”
“You’ve got to be joking, right? I went to jail,” Amy hissed quietly into the phone. “Jay, I don’t even know if I have a job, or if I’ve lost my modeling contracts yet.” Once she heard the purse price, temptation hit her. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Look, let me think and get back to you.”
“Get back to who for what?” Alejandro cleared his throat to announce his presence.
America startled and dropped the house phone. “Begeezus, don’t sneak up on people.” She bent forward to retrieve the phone. “Yeah sorry, I’ll hit you back later. Can’t talk now.” She hit end and stuck the phone in her pocket of her robe.
“Making deviant plans already?”
“Na-no, of course not. Nothin’ important.” Amy picked up her discarded cup of tea and took a sip. Damn if he didn’t look edible, all sweat-drenched and glistening sinew. Not a single delectable inch of Alejandro escaped her notice.
He snorted. “If you think I believe that, you forget I know you better than you know yourself, querida.”
“Really was just short talk, seeing that I lived and all.”
Alejandro shrugged. “I’m off to shower, and then we’ll talk.” He moved to the door and entered the house without a backward glance, the slam of the storm door effectively cutting off her chance to reply.
“Ass,” she mumbled and drained the rest of her tea. A shower sounded damned good, and she only had one shower in the house. A smile curled up her lips as she headed inside. She dropped the robe as she climbed up the stairs. Amy turned the doorknob, a tiny jig dancing in her head at the unlocked door. The jet spray allowed her to enter without being heard. The sight that met her eyes stole the syllables off her tongue. Water gushed from the spray nozzle, soaking Alejandro’s muscle-ripped body. Each time he moved to lather up his back, muscles rippled, and water ran down in an abstract pattern, dripping in the crease of his ass and disappearing. He hadn’t been this cut last time she saw him. Fighting tougher opponents or his training must’ve sculpted him.
“Get out, Amy.”
“My bathroom, Alejandro.” She removed her bandage to keep it from getting soaked and then opened the shower door and stepped in. His stormy eyes stared her down. She ran her fingers over the tick pulsating in his jaw and dropped her gaze to his thickening cock. “Go.”
“Someone’s happy to see me.” She snaked her hand around his shaft and stroked the frenulum. He sucked in a breath, and it brought a smile to her lips. Only once, and by the looks of it, how he responded, he hadn’t forgotten her touch. “I’m just here to get clean.”
“Sure, big guy. The other part of you has different plans.” She let go and soaped to massage him. The heater in the bathroom kept it humid enough for the water to be turned off. A wicked image filled her mind. “There is no happy ending,” he warned and spread his legs to allow her access to his body.
Amy licked her bottom lip. Her body thrummed with excitement. Surely he didn’t mean it. His shoulder brushed against her nipple, and she moaned. “What was that?”
“Accidental brush?” Alejandro shampooed his hair. “Hmph.”
Amy bent forward and licked his nipple. Lust filled the too-tiny-for-two shower. Crammed in tight quarters and near flush against his body, she ran soapy hands over his arms, trailed them down his pectorals, and then along her own skin, making them both slippery. “Here, let me.” She turned on the hand held, rising up on tiptoes to wash the shampoo from his head. “Why haven’t you gotten any new tattoos yet?” She returned the attachment to the wall and pressed her body against his back. The water made her fingers glide over his slick skin. With boldness, she dropped the pretense and reached for his thick-lathered cock.
“Haven’t found new ink I like.” He blew out a breath. “Fuck, Amy.”
“You like?” Circling around to his front, she dropped and fondled his scrotum between her thumb and forefinger.
Instead of answering her, he threaded his hand in her hair and pulled her from his cock, pressing her against the cold-tiled wall. “Damn brat.”
Yes. Her body screamed in anticipation. She spread her legs and hooked one around his hip, lazily drawing her calf down his back. His delicious cock rubbed against her folds. That Alejandro fought to keep control wasn’t out of the norm. She trailed nails down his chest and glided her slick skin against him. “Please?”
His mouth crashed over hers, and he pulled her into a vortex of white-hot passion. His talented tongue slid between her lips, cutting off more pleas. She mewled and rocked her mons along his dick in sync with his tongue thrusting in and dueling with hers.
“Not today.” His guttural growl sent a cold splash of reality down her spine. Shocked, she watched him throw open the shower door and storm out. Yep. Anger resonated in each step he took, the way he yanked a towel from the hook and disappeared out of her sight. She washed quickly and got out. Hurt caused hot tears to leak from her eyes. Without a sound she let them fall, slathered lotion on, and yanked her brush through the tangles in her hair. A reasonable amount of time passed, and she assumed Alejandro had left.
Oh-and-two—she couldn’t win for losing. He reclined on the center of her bed, holding a copy of the magazine she’d thrown at him a year previous. Worse—he stroked that glorious cock of his to a paper image of her…when she had offered her body to him just scant minutes ago.
Being smart and sassy with a great sense of humor comes easily for Mahalia Levey. An avid reader of books, she found herself enchanted with disappearing completely into the worlds authors created. One day she vowed to herself she’d be one of them. Then family life came, and college right after. Swayed from her childhood course of action, it took many years for her to get back to that place she held dear as a child. Now she is running full steam ahead to keep up with the many ideas flowing freely. She plans on taking her work to higher levels and expanding her genres. Her main focus is giving her readers variety. Her works in progress include paranormal, fantasy and mainstream romance. Taking characters and watching them grow past what she’s imagined is her true passion.