.jpg)
Assassins Bite
(Biting Love Book 8)
by Mary Hughes
Only her light can burn away his shadows.
On her first night as a police officer, Sunny Ruffles takes
down three felons…only to be attacked by a gang of vampires who are a whole new
level of hurt.
Then a mysterious shadow man intervenes, saving Sunny before
he disappears. She runs after him, telling herself her pursuit has nothing to
do with his sharp, stubbled jaw, his powerful shoulders, or his sexy-as-hell,
kissable lips.
Rescuing the humans makes Aiden Blackthorne late for a
critical meeting with the vampire Nosferatu’s daughter. Yet clompy, bumbling
Sunny draws him back like wild honey. He kisses her, and he’s almost got her
down to her underwear when a bomb meant for him explodes.
The last thing Aiden wants is to drag Sunny into his hellish
conflict with Nosferatu. But Aiden’s a loner whose only friend has mysteriously
disappeared, and the woman who smells and tastes like his mate is the only
backup he has left. He’ll need her, everything he is, everything he was—and
everything he might have been—to defeat his evil master and claim the love he
never dared hope to have.
Warning: This book contains shadowy assassins shooping off
vampire heads, cops bumbling in at the worst of times, and opposites
attracting, colliding, and exploding in lust—a.k.a., explicit fighting, humor,
and sex.
Buy Links:
Excerpt:
I cleared my throat and widened my stance and thought tough
cop thoughts. “What aren’t you telling me? Exactly how do you know Mace and his
vampires—?”
“You didn’t see vampires.”
Already irritated with myself, that echoey voice rubbed me
into sharp annoyance. I stomped into his personal space, slapped fists to my
hips and glared up at him. “Do not tell me what I did or did not see.”
“Not vampires—”
“Shut. Up.”
He reared back with a frown. “You can’t tell me to shut up.”
“Who’s the cop here?” I scowled up.
He scowled down. “Who’s the midget here?”
“Why you…” I grabbed his ears to bring his head to my level
and stun him speechless with my cop glare, a cross between Medusa and an ocular
fist that I’d seen Elena do and practiced daily in the mirror until I knocked
myself out with it.
But somehow when his face got within reach of my mouth I
leaned up and he leaned down—and we fused lips. My tongue pried and he opened,
and I was plunging as deep as I could get into hot male heaven. He tasted of
espresso edged with cinnamon and danger; his scent enveloping me was just as
spicy.
He groaned. His arms came around me, pulling me flush to
him. I clutched his biceps, warm satin-covered rocks, and moaned into his
mouth. As if it was a cue he crushed me to him, his embrace hot as a woodburner
and his torso as hard as his biceps. Even through the thick wool of my cop
carapace I felt every ridge of him.
I twined arms around his neck and pressed into him in
return. I was shivery hot and melding with him instinctively, writhing and
rubbing against him with primal need.
My undulating must have been another signal, because he
began to take the lead. His tongue thrust powerfully into my mouth. I groaned
and a ripple of sheer need ran the length of my body. I opened wider for him;
his tongue filled me again and again.
That driving power was how he’d make love. At the thought,
my sex drenched.
“Mmm. Your scent drives me wild.” He cupped the back of my
head, holding me in position for deeper, more exotic tonguing and biting and
licking. I whimpered. His passion was a direct wire from my mouth to my sex—one
he lit like a fuse. Every flick of his tongue was a hot lick to my rising clit.
Every thrust inside my mouth was a powerful surge into me. Every bite shivered
along my skin and every suck was as if he had me on my back with my thighs
clenching his head.
He slid a hand between us. It rubbed my uniform jacket
against the tips of my breasts. The jacket was new, wool and too small, and I felt
it even through shirt and bra. My nipples, already awake, sang out like they
were joining the choir eternal.
I gasped, grabbed his ears and tried to tongue his tonsils.
My leg lifted, instinctively trying to assume the position. I was small but
forceful and usually ended up on top, but he was so tall I couldn’t rub my
tortured bits against his unless he helped or I climbed him like a tree. If he
would just slip his hands under my derriere and lift…
He had other things in mind. He undid every brass button on
my jacket then shoved it aggressively off my shoulders. My arms fell from his
neck and the jacket hit the pavement with a whump-clang. I barely cared,
because he kept kissing and sucking as he worked at my blouse, flipping open
buttons so fast one or two went plink onto the pavement.
The instant the shirt was open, he palmed both breasts
through my lacy bra, with a sound like a hungry beast coming home to a hot
plentiful dinner. I thrilled. My breasts surged into his hands with nearly the
same sound. I dug fingernails into his scalp and rubbed my tits into his palms,
his skin so hot, his hands so big and rough and exciting.
I was about to pull him somewhere secluded, like the
cruiser’s backseat—some part of me knew Jonesy wasn’t due to wake for at least
another five minutes—when an explosion rocked us both.
Bio:
As a girl, I spun romantic, happily-ever-after stories to
get to sleep. A husband, two degrees, a blackbelt and a family later, I'm
delighted to spin them for readers.
I’ve lived with love and loss, in bright times and dark, and
learned we can all use a break from reality every now and then.
So join me for action, sparkling wit and red-hot love.
Strong men. Stronger women.
To learn more, please visit http://www.maryhughesbooks.com/
or write mary@maryhughesbooks.com
I’m on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/MaryHughesAuthor
and
and would love to hear from you!
No comments:
Post a Comment