Wicked Seduction is close to my heart with Tor, a hero to die for, and Marnie, a young woman who’s known too much heartache but finally finds a good man in Tor.

Contemporary Romance – South Florida – Tattoos

AMAZON

Series Blurb:

South Florida just got a helluva lot steamier… During the day, the staff at Wicked Brand makes ink dreams a reality for their appreciative clients. After hours, this naughty crew engages in sensual delights as wild as the designs they’re selling. Their motto? Nothing forbidden. Nothing held back.

Wicked Seduction Blurb:

He’ll teach her to believe in passion and love.

Marnie’s getting back on her feet after fleeing a bad relationship. As part of her new life, she arrives at Wicked Brand in search of tattoos to cover scars from a long-ago trauma, hoping it will allow her to finally feel pretty. What she gets is a hot Latin tattoo artist who sets every part of her afire.

Sexy as sin Tor can work magic with his stunning 3-D designs and wants nothing more than to see Marnie smile. She’s a rare combination of sweet and wickedly sensual. The kind of woman he can’t easily resist—and doesn’t try.

Their sessions at the parlor turn into evenings of steamy delight as they feed their carnal hunger and growing intimacy, playing shameless games that leave them breathless and wanting more.

When her ex shows up, determined to have her back under his control, the danger is real. But this time Marnie is stronger, determined…and no longer alone.

Excerpt:

Tor shook off the distractions and got in the zone. Clients arrived and departed. Van Gogh, another tattoo artist, discussed designs with customers in his usual glum manner that everyone overlooked because of his amazing talent. Muted conversations sounded from outside.

Thankfully, no one else shouted for Tor to strip. He didn’t mind being popular, but recognition as an artist in the classic sense was his ultimate goal. The same as Van Gogh. Neither of them had been able to support their passion without a day job. Tor’s sketches and Van Gogh’s paintings hung in the parlor in between photos of tats, T-shirts, and other touristy stuff for sale. Little by little, their art sold, which was pretty damn sweet.

He switched to the biker’s other side.

Outside on the walkway, women fanned themselves with Lauren’s flyers. Those with pasty complexions were undoubtedly tourists. The locals usually sported tans and wore far less clothing, combining sports bras or bikini tops with their skimpy cutoffs. Small wonder. The August afternoon couldn’t have been steamier, the sky iron gray, the cloud cover thick. A heavy metallic scent predicted rain, not unusual this time of summer.

Tor wiped away black ink he’d used on the Spartan’s helmet.

Women outside continued to lift their smartphones to take his picture as they would with an A-list celebrity.

A platinum blonde shifted. Her move opened a space in the crowd, and his eyes were drawn to a young woman on the periphery.

She stared at him.

He held her gaze.

Hers eyes were soft brown, lushly lashed, expressive and yearning.

Warmth coursed through him, along with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. Not exactly recognition, but a sense of comfort. Like they knew each other despite being strangers.

In her mid-to-late twenties, she wore her chestnut hair parted on the side. The ends curled slightly above her breasts. Her features were naturally sultry even without makeup, her skin tawny, her heritage most likely Cuban, the same as him.

His cock stiffened, balls grew tight. He stepped closer to the window, surprised by her long-sleeve peasant blouse and white jeans. A fucking lot of clothes in the ungodly temperature.

The fabric didn’t hide her luscious breasts and hips, though. An outstanding figure a man could hold on to during a wild ride, his rod buried in her snug depths, comforted by her warm, giving flesh.

Nice. Definitely a woman he’d like to get to know. Hopefully, she’d still be there when he finished this tat. With any luck, she was a local who lived or worked close by.

The redhead with the great rack moved and blocked his view.

Tor rounded the biker for a better perspective.

The ladies in front glanced where he did.

The young woman didn’t appear to notice them. Her gaze remained on him, but her longing expression faded, replaced by something else. Possibly anxiety.

He killed his grin and lifted his hand to gesture her inside so they could meet and talk.

She left.

Surprised, Tor strode to the front door to follow.

“Hey.” The biker pushed up. “Where are you going?”

Tor stopped, torn between inking his client, as he should, and racing outside to ask the young woman to return.

He dragged back to the biker and called across the space. “Jasmina, got a sec?”

She still stood at the counter, taking inventory of items in the front case. “What do you need?”

He didn’t have an easy answer. He never chased after women, at least in the literal sense. He never had to. They always came on strong. The majority wore ample makeup and scant clothing, promising an effortless good time.

The young woman he’d seen wasn’t his usual type, yet she left him edgy and wanting. “I saw a woman outside.”

Jasmina stared at him blankly and looked at the crowd. All female.

“What I meant is the one I saw left. Can you run out and catch up with her? She’s wearing a long-sleeved blouse and white jeans. Has brown hair about your length. Maybe a bit longer.”

“Did she lose something?”

“No. She just took off.”

Jasmina made a face.

Before her breakup with Brad, she would have reacted to Tor’s comment with unwavering optimism and good humor.

How Brad could have cheated on her and killed Jasmina’s trust in guys mystified him. Not only had she been loyal to a fault, she was fucking gorgeous. Also of Cuban descent, she had long auburn hair, a rich complexion, and outstanding breasts. And legs longer than the law should have allowed. Today, she wore what she usually did: a tank top, cutoffs, and sneakers.

She returned to her work. “She’s allowed to go if she wants.”

Tor rolled his eyes. “Are we trying to lose customers now? You could go out there and show her your tat. She couldn’t have gone too far—she wasn’t walking that fast. Maybe she’d like a bow on her ankle like you have. Come on, you’re not doing anything.”

She arched one eyebrow.

He raised his gloved hands in surrender. “I meant anything you can’t do later.”

Jasmina regarded him intently.

He wanted to run but didn’t budge. “What?”

“If I do catch up and stop her, what if she’s not interested in my tat?”

He hadn’t thought about particulars beyond stopping her. “Tell her we have lots of other ones.” He gestured to the walls, the numerous pictures of past clients.

Jasmina gave him a sad smile. “Better to let people go who don’t want you.”

The young woman had, though. He’d sensed her desire and couldn’t recall another female affecting him in the same way. Sure, lust was involved, but also something else, a connection, something deeper.

Jasmina keyed an item into the computer.

Frustrated, Tor returned to work and wondered whether he’d see the young woman again—what her smile would be like, her voice and scent, her hands gliding over him, making him hungry for whatever she had to give—and what her name might be.

 

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