Triple M Character Bio
Just because she's a virgin doesn't mean she's innocent. This sweet, young thing with the hazelnut hair and the blue eyes could read you under the table. Think of a romance novel, any title, and she'll have read it. Oh yeah. She knows things, and she's not afraid to use them on Austin Sparks. As long as he takes her away from her stifling life and her zealous parents because sometimes, you've got to lose yourself to be free. And her new favorite word is the F-bomb, thank you very much.
Tattooed, pierced, dirty mouthed, rides a motorcycle. Need I say more? Austin Sparks is a member of the Triple M Motorcycle Gang, and he's not afraid to bend the rules – or bend Amy over a pool table. Yep. He'll do that, too. Just don't ask what it is he really does for a living. That kind of secret's only given out a need to know basis. But his tattoos? We can talk all about those. Just check out the cover.
LOSING ME, FINDING YOU (BOOK 1) EXCERPT:
“Take off your pants,” he says simply and that's it. I turn around and stare at him, noticing that his eyes are like fire, waiting to wash over me and burn me to ash.
“What?” Austin grins and pulls out a cigarette, sticking it between his lips and taking off his vest. He tosses it onto the gravel by the side of the road like we're not out in the middle of the country, like we're right back in that hotel room together with all the privacy in the world.
“Take 'em off. This is your next lesson. If you don't wear a skirt, be prepared to take off your pants. Come on, sugar, let's get to it. We've gotta hurry before somebody drives by and sees us.”
“You're serious?” I ask him, getting chills and a gut wrenching belly ache. Oh God, yes. I can't believe I waited twenty-one years for this feeling. It's incredible.
“As a heart attack,” Austin says, taking a drag on his cigarette and tossing it to the ground, so he can smash it under his boot. I nibble my lip for a moment and then start to unbutton my jeans. Austin's eyes follow the motion and narrow when I pause with the zipper halfway down.
“Take off your shirt,” I command him. I want to see what's under there. Three times we've had sex and not once have I gotten to see his chest and belly. He grins at me and obliges, tearing the black fabric off and tossing it down alongside his vest.
Austin is … Well, God, Austin is ripped. He's tight and muscular and I can see every muscle in his belly as clear as day. His skin stretches hot and slick over the firmness of his chest and stomach, dipping into his pants with a sprinkle of sandy hair. Above his pecs, he's got another skull tattoo surrounded by roses and on either side, a gun pointing inwards. Sweat glides across the colorful piece of art and gets caught between his muscles, sliding down and soaking into the waistband of his jeans.
I practically tear my boots and pants off in my frenzy to touch him. I can't wait.
“Panties,” he commands me, and I pause. Being pants-less in the middle of the road is one thing, but being pantie-less is quite another altogether.
“Austin … ” He grins at me and reaches down, unzipping his own pants. My gaze follows his hands involuntarily, mesmerizing me.
“Better hurry before somebody comes along and we get interrupted.”
I swallow and look around, listening for the rumble of cars in the distance and hear nothing except for the droning of the cicadas. I drop my panties to my feet before I can stop myself and kick them next to my jeans.
“Now, get on the fucking bike,” Austin leans back and flashes me his cock, hard and ready and waiting. I move forward and climb on so that I'm facing him, trying to move slowly so that I don't seem too eager. Truth is, I am eager, almost desperate for it. Three days ago, I was a virgin reading about my favorite heroines being banged in black and white. Today, I am the heroine, and I can't wait for my turn. “Now, look at you,” Austin says, voice dropping into this lengthy Southern drawl where every fuckingsyllable is a nightmare of sexual tension, bleeding across my body and making me crazy for it.