Surprise Announcement & Giveaway: Provocative, #1 of a new duet by Lisa Renee Jones, coming soon!

Promo Banner for Provocative by Lisa Renee Jones

Provocative (White Lies Book One) by Lisa Renee Jones
Release Date:  April 18th
Genre: Contemporary Romance

A Note from the Author:

Hi everyone!

I am BEYOND excited to introduce my WHITE LIES DUET! This is a sexy, intense, psychological thriller, that is provocative in every way, thus why I named book one: PROVOCATIVE. And since this series takes me back to my indie roots, the pricing is lower than my New York titles, and the release dates are close together.

Here are the details on the series:

  • PROVOCATIVE, book one, will be out on April 18, 2017 and priced at $2.99 – includes the free novella – REBECCA’S FORGOTTEN JOURNALS – for readers who purchase during release week or pre-order where pre-order is available.
  • SHAMELESS, book two, will be out on July 11, 2017 and priced at $3.99
  • BOTH books will be full-length!
  • I’m also giving away prizes on my blog every day in April to celebrate! Entry is super easy. Just comment! The link to my blog is HERE so be sure to subscribe!

And now, without further ado, the covers for the duet, blurb for book one, and CHAPTER ONE of PROVOCATIVE! I can’t wait for you to meet the dirty talking alpha, Nick “Tiger” Rogers. I hope you enjoy him as much as I enjoyed writing him!

Provocative Final Border

ABOUT PROVOCATIVE

Book One in the sexy and intense new White Lies duet by Lisa Renee Jones!

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I walked into Sonoma’s Reid Winter Winery and Vineyard and made eye contact with Faith Winter for the first time was one of those moments. Provocative because I know at least one of her secrets, of which, I suspect she has many. Provocative because she believes I was a stranger to her when we met, but I am not. Provocative because I sought her out, with no intention of touching her. But now I have. Now I want her. Now I have to have her. But that changes nothing. It doesn’t change why I came for her.

Pre-Order PROVOCATIVE Today!

Special $2.99 pre-order price – will increase after release!

Amazon alert: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeAmazonAlert

B&N: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeBN

iBooks: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeiBooks

Kobo: http://bit.ly/ProvocativeKobo

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34602810-provocative

Read Chapter One Now:

pro·voc·a·tive

adjective

  1. causing annoyance, anger, or another strong reaction, especially deliberately.
  2. arousing sexual desire or interest, especially deliberately.

Chapter One

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I stepped into the mansion that is the centerpiece of the Reid Winter Vineyards and Winery wasn’t one of those moments. Nor were any of the moments I spent weaving through a crowd of suits and dresses cluttering the circle that is the grand foyer of the 1800’s mansion, fancy tiles etched with vines beneath my feet. Nor the ones spent declining three different waiters offering me glasses of various wines from one of the most established vineyards in Sonoma, meant to entice me to buy their bottles and donate money to the charity hosting the gathering. Not even the instant that I spotted the stunning blonde in a snug black dress that hugged her many lush curves proved to be one of those moments, but I would call it a damn interesting one. The moment I decided the blonde silk of her long hair belonged in my hands and on my stomach was also a damn interesting one. And not because she’s fuckable. There are plenty of fuckable women in my life, a number of whom understand that I enjoy demands for pleasure, which I will definitely provide, and nothing more. This woman is too prim and proper to ever agree to such an arrangement, and yet, knowing this, as she and her heart-shaped backside disappear into the congestion of bodies, I find myself pursuing her, looking for more than an interesting moment. I want that provocative one.

I follow her path formed by huddles of two, three, or more people, left and right, to clear a portion of the crowd, scanning to find my beauty standing several feet away, her back to me, with two men in blue suits in front of her. And while they might appear to blend with the rest of the suits in the room, they hold themselves like the parasites I meet too often in the courtroom, those who most often call themselves my opposing counsel. My blonde beauty folds her arms in front of her chest, her spine stiff, and if I read her right–and I read most people right–I am certain that she’s found trouble. But lucky for her, trouble doesn’t like me near as much as I like it.

Closing the space between me and them, I near their little triangle just in time to hear her say, “Are we really doing this here and now?”

“Yes, Ms. Winter,” one of the men replies. “We are.”

“Actually,” I say, stepping to Ms. Winter’s side, her floral scent almost as sweet as the challenge of conquering her opponents that are now mine, “we are not doing this here or now.”

All attention shifts to me, Ms. Winter giving me a sharp stare that I feel rather than see, my focus remaining on the men I want to leave, not the woman I want to make come. “And you would be who?” the suit directly in front of me demands.

I size him up as barely out of his twenty-something diapers, without experience, the glint in his eye telling me he doesn’t realize that flaw, which makes him about as smooth as a six-dollar glass of wine everyone in this place would spit the fuck out. A point driven home by the fact that he’s wearing a three hundred-dollar Italian silk tie, and a hundred-dollar suit, no doubt hoping the tie makes the suit look expensive, and him important. He’s wrong.

“I said, who are you?” he repeats when I apparently haven’t replied quickly enough, his impatience becoming my virtue as my role as cat in this game of cat and mouse is too easily established.

Unwilling to waste words on a predictable, expected question that I’d never ask, I simply reach into the pocket of my three-thousand-dollar light gray suit, which I earned by beating opponents with ten times his experience and negotiation skills, and finger the unimportant prick my card.

He snaps it from my hand, gives it a look that confirms my name and the firm I started a decade ago now, after daring to leave behind a certain partnership in a high-powered firm. “Nick Rogers?” he asks. “Is there another name on the card?” I ask, because, I’m also a fearless smartass every chance I get.

He stares at me for several beats, seeming to calculate his words, before asking, “How many Mr. Rogers sweater jokes do you get?”

I arch a brow at the misguided joke that only serves to poke the Tiger. Suit Number Two, who I age closer to my thirty-six years, pales visibly, then snatches the card from the other man’s hand, giving it a quick inspection before his gaze then jerks to mine. “The Nick Rogers?”

“I don’t remember my mother putting the word ‘the’ in front of my name,” I reply dryly, but then again, I think, she didn’t ask my father, to change my last name either. She just hated him that much.

“Tiger,” he says, and it’s not a question, but rather a statement of “oh shit” fact.

“That’s right,” I say, enjoying the fruits of my labor that created the nickname, not one given to me by my friends.

“Who, or what, the fuck is Tiger all about?” Suit Number One asks.

“Shut up,” Suit Number Two grunts, refocusing on me to ask, “You’re representing Ms. Winter?”

“What I am,” I say, “is standing right here by her side, telling you that it’s in your best interests to leave.”

“Since when do you handle small-time foreclosures?” he demands, exposing the crux of Ms. Winter’s situation.

“I handle whatever the fuck I want to handle,” I say, my tone even, my lips curving as I add, “Including the process of having you both escorted off the property by security.”

“That,” Suit Number One dares to retort, “would garner Ms. Winter unwanted attention in the middle of a busy event. Not that Ms. Winter even has security to call.”

“Fortunately, I have a phone that dials 911 and the ability to call it without asking her.”

If she’s your client,” Suit Number One says, clearly inferring that she’s not, “you’re obligated to operate with her best interests in mind.”

“My decisions,” I reply, without missing a beat, and without claiming Ms. Winter as a client, “are always about winning. And I assure you that I can think of many ways to spin your story to the press that ensures I win, while also benefiting Ms. Winter.”

“This isn’t my story,” Suit Number One indicates.

“It will be when I’m finished with the press,” I assure him, amused at how easily I’ve led him down the path I want him to travel.

“This is a small community with little to talk about but her,” he says. “She doesn’t want her foreclosure to become the front page story.”

My lips quirk. “If you don’t know how easily I can get the wrong attention for you here, and the right attention for Ms. Winter, you’ll find out.”

“We’ll leave,” Suite Number Two interjects quickly, and just when I think that he’s smart enough to see the way trouble has turned from Ms. Winter to them, he looks at her and says, “We’ll be in touch,” with a not so subtle threat in his tone, before he elbows Suit Number One. “Let’s go.”

Suit Number One doesn’t move, visibly fuming, his face red, that white ring thickening around his lips. I arch a brow at Suit Number Two, who adds, “Now, Jordan.” Jordan, formerly known as Suit Number One, clenches his teeth and turns away, while Suit Two follows.

Ms. Winter faces me, and holy fuck, when her pale green eyes meet mine, any questions I have about this woman and the many I suspect she now has of me, are muted by an unexpected, potentially problematic, palpable electric charge between us. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft, feminine, a rasp in its depths that hints at emotion not effortlessly contained. “Please enjoy anything you like tonight on the house,” she adds, the rasp gone now, her control returned. Until I take it, I think, but no sooner than I’ve had the thought, she is turning and walking away, the absence of further interaction coloring me both stunned and intrigued, two things that, for me, are ranked with about as much frequency as snow in Sonoma, which would be next to never.

Ms. Winter maneuvers into the crowd, out of my line of sight, and while I am not certain I’d label her a mouse at this point, or ever for that matter, considering what I know of her, I am most definitely on the prowl. I stride purposely forward, weaving through the crowd, seeking that next provocative moment, scanning for her left, right, in the clusters of mingling guests, until I clear the crowd.

Now standing in front of a wide, wooden stairwell, my gaze follows its path upward to a second level, but I still find no sign of Ms. Winter. A cool breeze whips through the air, and I turn to find the source is a high arched doorway, the recently opened glass doors to what I know to be the “Winter Gardens,” a focal point of the property, and a tourist draw for decades, settling back into place. Certain this represents her escape, I walk that direction, and press open the doors, stepping onto a patio that has a stone floor and concrete benches framed by rose bushes. No less than four winding paths greet me as destination choices, the hunt for this woman now a provocation of its own.

I’ve just decided to wait where I am for Ms. Winter’s return when the wind lifts, the floral scent of many varieties of flowers for which the garden is famous touching my nostrils, with one extra scent decidedly of the female variety.

Lips curving with the certainty that my prey will soon to be my prize, I follow the clue that guides my feet to the path on my right, a narrow, winding, lighted walkway, framed by neatly cut yellow flower bushes, which continues past a white wooden gazebo I have no intention of passing. Not when Ms. Winter stands inside it, her back to me, elbows resting on the wooden rail, her gaze casting across the silhouette of what would reveal itself to be a rolling mountainside in daybreak. The way I intend for her to reveal herself.

I close the distance between us, and the moment before I’m upon her, she faces me, hands on the railing behind her, her breasts thrust forward, every one of her lush curves tempting my eyes, my hands. My mouth. “Did those men know you?” she demands, clearly ready and waiting for this interaction. “Did you know them?”

“No and no.”

“And yet they knew the nickname Tiger.”

“My reputation precedes me.”

“I’ll take the bait,” she says. “What reputation?”

“They say I’ll rip my opponent’s throat out if given the chance.”

“Will you?” she asks, without so much as a blanch or blink.

“Yes,” I reply, a simple answer, for a simple question.

“Without any concern for who you hurt,” she states.

I arch a brow. “Is that a question?”

“Should it be?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not,” she says. “You didn’t get that nickname by being nice.”

“Nice guys don’t win.”

“Then I’m warned,” she says. “You aren’t a nice guy.”

“Is nice a quality you’re looking for in a man? Because as your evening counsel, Ms. Winter, I’ll advise you that nice is overrated.”

She stares at me for several beats before turning away to face the mountains again, elbows on the railing, in what I could see as a silent invitation to leave. I choose to see it as an invitation to join her. I claim the spot next to her, close, but not nearly as close as I will be soon. “You didn’t answer the question,” I point out.

“You wrongly assume I am looking for a man, which I’m not,” she says, glancing over at me. “But if I was, then no. Nice would be on my list but it would not top my list, however, nowhere on that list would be the ability, and willingness, to rip out someone’s throat.”

“I can assure you, Ms. Winter, that a man with a bite is as underrated as a nice guy is overrated. And I not only know how, and when, to use mine, but if I so choose to biteyou, and I might, it’ll be all about pleasure, not pain.”

Her cheeks flush and she turns away. “My name is Faith.” She glances over at me again. “Should I call you Nick, Tiger, or just plain arrogant?”

“Anything but Mr. Rogers,” I say, enjoying our banter far more than I would have expected when I came here tonight looking for her.

She laughs now too, and it’s a delicate, sweet sound, but it’s awkward, as if it’s not only unexpected, but unwelcome, and an instant later she’s withdrawing, pushing off the railing, arms folding protectively in front of her body, before we’re rotating to face each other. “I need to go check on the visitors.” She attempts to move away.

I gently catch her arm, her gaze rocketing to mine, and in the process her hair flutters in a sudden breeze, a strand of blonde silk catching on the whiskers of my one-day stubble. She sucks in a breath, and when she would reach up to remedy the situation, I’m already there, catching the soft silk and stroking it behind her ear.

“Why are you touching me?” she asks, but she doesn’t pull away, that charge between us minutes ago now ten times more provocative with me touching her, thinking about all the places I might touch next.

“It’s considerably better than not touching you,” I say.

“My bad luck might bleed into you.”

“Bleed,” I repeat, that word reminding me once again of why I’m here, why I really want to fuck this woman. “That’s an extreme, and rather interesting choice of words.”

“Most bad luck is extreme, though not interesting to anyone but the Tigers of the world, creating it. You’re still touching me.”

“Everyone needs a Tiger in their corner. Maybe my good luck will bleed into you.”

“Does good luck bleed?” she asks.

“Many people will do anything for good luck, even bleed.”

“Yes,” she says, lowering her lashes, but not before I’ve seen the shadows in her eyes. “I suppose they would.”

“What would you do for good luck?”

Her lashes lift, her stare meeting mine again. “What have you done for good luck?”

“I came here tonight,” I say.

She narrows her eyes on me, as if some part of her senses, the far-reaching implications of my reply that she can’t possibly understand, and yet still, the inescapable heat between us radiates and burns. “You’re still touching me,” she points out, and this time there’s a hint of reprimand.

“Holding onto that luck,” I say.

“It feels like you’re holding onto mine.”

With that observation that hits too close to the truth, I have no interest in revealing just yet, I drag my hand slowly down hers, allowing my fingers to find hers before they fall away. Her lips, lush, tempting, impossibly perfect for someone I know to be imperfect, part with the loss of my touch, and yet there is a hint of relief in her eyes that tells me she both wants me and fears me.

A most provocative moment, indeed.

“Have a drink with me,” I say.

“No,” she replies, her tone absolute, and while I don’t like this decision, I appreciate a person who’s decisive.

“Why?”

“Good luck and bad luck don’t mix.”

“They might just create good luck.”

“Or bad,” she says. “I’m not in a place where I can take the risk for more bad luck.” She inclines her chin. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.” She pauses and adds, “Tiger.”

I don’t react, but for just a moment, I consider the way she used my nickname as an indicator that she knows who I am, and why I’m here. I quickly dismiss that idea. I’d have seen it in those pale green eyes, and I did not. But as she turns and walks away, and I watch her depart, tracking her steps as she disappears down the path, I wonder at her quick departure, and the fear I’d seen in her eyes. Was the root of that fear her guilt?

That idea should be enough to ice the fire in me that this woman has stirred, but it stokes it instead. Everything male in me wants to pursue her again, and not because I’m here for a reason that existed before I ever met her, when it should be that and nothing more. It is more. I’m aroused and I’m intrigued by this woman. She got to me when no one gets to me. Not a good place to be, considering I came here to prove she killed my father, and maybe even her own mother.

ShamelessFinal_4

Book two: SHAMELESS will be out on July 11th!

Pre-Order notification:http://bit.ly/2nocwgZ

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34602828-shameless

Enter the Giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About the Author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series. Suzanne Todd (producer of Alice in Wonderland) on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy – a modern girl we all can identify with.

In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, Lisa has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin’s Press.

Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and she is active on Twitter and Facebook daily.

LRJAuthorPic

Connect with the Author:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLisaReneeJones/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2kWFra1

Twitter: @LisaReneeJones

Stay in touch with Lisa by joining her mailing list:

http://lisareneejones.com/newsletter-sign-up/

Website: http://lisareneejones.com

 

 

Damage Control (Dirty Money #2) by Lisa Renee Jones – a Steamy, Suspenseful Treat

Release Banner for Damage Control, by Lisa Renee Jones

Damage Control

Series: Dirty Money, Book 2

Author: Lisa Renee Jones

Release Date: February 21, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense

The only thing more dangerous than a dark secret is a damaged heart… 

Book Cover, Damage Control by Lisa Renee JonesShane Brandon has been pushed to the brink, torn between his corrupt family and his explosive, all-consuming desire for Emily Stevens, who he now knows is not who, and what, she seems. Has he trusted the wrong person? Will she, not his brother Derek, be the ultimate destruction of his family Empire?

Emily tries to run from Shane, but he will stop her, confront her, force her to reveal all – one hot touch and kiss, at a time, until every intimate detail of who this woman is, and what she wants, is exposed. But as he tears away the dangers of the unknowns with the woman in his bed, and in his heart, The Martina Cartel has set their sights on his company, his family, and the one piece of leverage they believe he won’t gamble with: Emily.

Book Review

Damage Control (Dirty Money, #2)Damage Control by Lisa Renee Jones
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What a staggering read! I’m completely addicted to this story, but especially to its lead characters, Shane Brandon and Emily Stevens. Simultaneously dark and incredibly sexy, tender, yet dangerous, savvy, smart and strong, their chemistry radiates straight off the pages and their story will quickly find its way into your heart.

Picking up exactly where Hard Rules left off, the suspense begins immediately, as Emily is forced to reveal her painful past, and a dangerous secret. Aware that she has been living in fear for her life, Shane vows to protect her, even as he struggles to save his family’s dynasty from its self-inflicted spiral of corruption. The drama surrounding them simmers at the boiling point throughout the story, just below the surface, occasionally bubbling up to scare the bejeezus out of you, but always set to explode in all directions.

Damage Control is complex, full of twists and turns, heartbreaking betrayal and dangerous deceit. It will keep you guessing and holding your breath from beginning to end. (I know this because the activity app on my watch had to remind me to breathe a few times along the way.)

The stakes were high in Hard Rules, but they’re even higher now, and Lisa knows exactly when and how to ratchet up the conflict to keep you on the edge of your seat. I’m hooked on the adrenaline rush I feel as the suspense builds around Brandon Enterprises and within Shane’s wealthy, devious, dysfunctional family. I’m hooked on the fierce passion that Shane and Emily share, a passion that only intensifies as the tension increases and danger closes in.

Be aware, Damage Control not a standalone, and it’s not the conclusion of the story. Thankfully, there’s no dramatic cliffhanger that will make you toss your e-reader across the room, or send you off to rant at the author. It’s more like a soft landing, a calm before the storm. Like Hard Rules, Damage Control skillfully moves all the pieces in place to push the story forward, toward what promises to be a gritty but thrilling climax. To me, it’s the best kind of romantic suspense. I couldn’t put it down, and I’m ready to read it again.

I’m counting the days until August 8th, when Bad Deeds (#3) releases. I’m desperate to know who makes it out of this story alive, and if the love that Shane and Emily share is strong enough to last when everything else falls apart around them. I’m holding out hope that the villains get their due, with minimal collateral damage, and that Shane and Emily find the happy-ever-after they deserve.

Don’t deny yourself this smart, sexy, suspenseful treat. Start – or continue – the Dirty Money series today. I welcome your comments on this review.

View all my reviews

Buy Links

http://bit.ly/DamageControlAmazon

http://bit.ly/DamageControlAmazonCA

http://bit.ly/DamageControlAmazonUK

http://bit.ly/DamageControlAudible

http://bit.ly/DamageControlBN

http://bit.ly/DamageControliBooks

http://bit.ly/DamageControlKobo

http://bit.ly/DamageControlPaperback

Other Books in the Dirty Money Series

Hard Rules (Book 1) – available now

http://bit.ly/HardRulesAmazon

http://bit.ly/HardRulesAmazonCA

http://bit.ly/HardRulesAmazonUK

http://bit.ly/HardRulesAudible

http://bit.ly/HardRulesBN

http://bit.ly/HardRulesiBooks

http://bit.ly/HardRulesKobo

http://bit.ly/HardRulesPaperback

Bad Deeds (Book 3) – 8/8/17

http://bit.ly/BadDeedsAmazon

http://bit.ly/BadDeedsAmazonCA

http://bit.ly/BadDeedsAmazonUK

http://bit.ly/BadDeedsBN

http://bit.ly/BadDeedsiBooks

http://bit.ly/BadDeedsKobo

http://bit.ly/BadDeedsPaperback

 An Excerpt from Damage Control

“You make me remember I need to be good and right in my choices.”

“Do you ever question doing what is good and right?”

“There have been times when I felt like my hand was forced.”

“When you were a lawyer?”

“No,” I say. “I manipulated the law, as does every attorney, but I never broke it. I’m talking about when I’m with my family.”

“Did you go where they lead?”

“Not so far.”

“That sounds like you might.”

“I don’t want to be them.”

“You aren’t them. You don’t have to be them.”

“I know that,” I say. “But you just keep telling me so I don’t forget.” Her legs hit the bed frame and she grips my arms.

I lean into a kiss and she pulls back, her hand pressing on my chest. “Wait. Now it’s my turn to say talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Death happened. The one thing I can’t control. It’s not the night to push me to stop protecting you. Not tonight. Can you do that?”

“Yes. We can.”

“We,” I repeat, “and that word sounds as good on my tongue as I know you’re going to taste. I’m going to make love to you properly. The way I plan to many times in our future.” I reach down and untie her robe, letting it fall open; my fingers sliding underneath just far enough to tease her nipples. They pucker beneath my touch, and her lashes flutter, settling on her cheeks. “But when it’s over, I’m going to fuck you hard and fast again.”

I tug gently on her nipples and she bites her lips. “Look at me,” I order gently.

She opens her eyes, and there is desire in their depths, but there are shadows there too,. I do not think she intends for me to see doubt or uncertainty that wasn’t there before. That I do not like or wish to know ever again. I want it gone. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. I reach up and rip the silk tie from her robe, wrapping it around my hand, before I reach up and caress the robe off her shoulder, letting it tumble to the ground.

“Give me your hands,” I order, but it’s really a question: Does she still trust me?

She studies me for several beats, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and I do not know what she sees in mine, but she offers me her hands. I wrap the silk around her wrists then lean in close to her, my cheek against her cheek, my body touching her nowhere else. “Now you’re at my mercy.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “I am.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Warm.”

My lips curve with the answer that is every bit the combination of sweet sexy honesty I’ve come to expect from her. “I’m going to make you warmer.”

“Promise?”

I go still with that question, which on the surface is innocent, but I wonder if it truly is or if it’s about those shadows in her eyes. “I promise,” I say. “And you know, I never—”

“Make a promise you don’t keep.”

“Exactly,” I say, and her reference to my previous words tells me that I am not the only one on a mission of trust, and I intend to deserve hers.

I bring my hands to just above her shoulders, letting them lightly touch her before beginning a slow caress downward. She makes a soft little sound that has my cock thickening and my blood running hot, but I won’t rush this. My lips follow, tracing a line down one of her arms, then the other. I lean and caress my lips over hers, a feather light touch that teases me, if not her.

I take her hands in mine, pressing them behind her head. “Hold them there, for me, so I can see all of you. Understand?”

“You intend to tease me incessantly,” she says, without so much as a hint of hesitation. “Yes. I understand.”

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her naked body against me, my free hand on hers above her head, our mouths a breath apart. “I intend to lick every part of you, and then do it again, so yes. If that’s the definition of incessant teasing, then yes. I am going to tease you incessantly.” I close my mouth down on hers, my tongue licking into her mouth, a deep, hungry tasting I force myself to end far too quickly. “That was the beginning. Should I could continue?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Please,” I say. “I like that.”

Giveaway!

GIVEAWAY PRIZE: 2 $25 Amazon gift cards, 3 signed copies of Hard Rules and 3 Dirty Money tote bags

a Rafflecopter giveaway

DIRECT LINK: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/e837c2b0294/

Meet Lisa Renee Jones

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series. Suzanne Todd on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy – a modern girl we all can identify with.

In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin’s Press.

Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and she is active on Twitter and Facebook daily.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLisaReneeJones

Twitter – https://twitter.com/LisaReneeJones

Instagram – http://instagram.com/lisareneejones

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LisaReneeJones

Text List and Newsletter: http://bit.ly/LRJTextList

 

 

 

 

Deep Under: A Tall, Dark & Deadly Standalone by Lisa Renee Jones! Sale & Giveaway!

DEEP UNDER (Tall, Dark and Deadly book 4) is on SALE for 99 cents for a LIMITED TIME ONLY from New York Times Bestselling Author LISA RENEE JONES!

Deep Under Sale Banner

SYNOPSIS

THIS IS A STANDALONE. Though it is book four in the Tall, Dark and Deadly series (and book one in the Walker Security series) it contains an over-arcing plot from the previous books in the Tall, Dark and Deadly series (see Tall, Dark and Deadly books 1-4 Boxed Set)

BONUS SAMPLER BOOK: This edition includes excerpts from these 11 bestselling authors: Audrey Carlan, Carly Phillips, Kim Karr, Kyra Davis, Nicole Snow, Melody Anne, Geneva Lee, Layla Hagen, Whitney G., Linda Jones & Linda Howard, and Brenda Novak.

Quote from Deep Under

ABOUT DEEP UNDER:

Kyle, one of the alpha men of Walker Security, is hot, bothered, and intense, and when Myla lands in his line of fire, she’ll soon learn her secrets, and her passion, belong to him, from New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones.

Myla is beautiful, a dove with clipped wings, captive by the wolf, a vicious drug lord. One look into her eyes and Kyle could see the pain, the fear…the desperation. Or so it seems. He’s been fooled before by a woman and it cost him everything and everyone he loved. He won’t be fooled again.

Sale Ad with Quote from Deep Under

BUY LINKS

http://bit.ly/DeepUnderAmazon
http://bit.ly/DeepUnderBN
http://bit.ly/DeepUnderPaperback
http://bit.ly/DeepUnderBNPaperback
http://bit.ly/DeepUnderiBooks
http://bit.ly/DeepUnder-Kobo

Sale Ad and Photo Teaser for Deep Under

GIVEAWAY

Lisa Renee Jones and Layla Hagen are teaming up to offer a fantastic giveaway! Enter to win an ebook from all 12 bestselling authors included in the special edition of DEEP UNDER OR a $50 Amazon gift card!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Giveaway Banner - Deep Under

OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES

Get the four book box set (includes: Hot Secrets, Dangerous Secrets, Beneath the Secrets, and Secrets Exposed) for just $2.99 (reg. $4.99)

http://bit.ly/TDD4Amazon
http://bit.ly/TDD4Nook
http://bit.ly/TDD4iBooks2
http://bit.ly/TDD4Kobo

Deep Under Sale Ad with Sexy Quote

A NOTE FROM LISA:

I’m so thrilled to announce that the Tall, Dark and Deadly series WILL be in audio THIS YEAR! AND there will be at least TWO new Tall Dark and Deadly books by the end of 2017!

  • Pulled Under (Asher’s book) – November 2017
  • Falling Under (Jacob’s book) – December 2017

Please make sure you’re signed up to get text notifications and my newsletter to be made aware when they are coming! SIGN UP HERE – http://bit.ly/LRJTextList

 

Sale Price Ends Soon, Get it Today! Hard Rules, by Lisa Renee Jones

Book Cover, Hard Rules, Lisa Renee Jones

SPECIAL $4.99 EBOOK SALE PRICE ENDS MONDAY, AUGUST 15TH

ALSO…
The print version of HARD RULES has a bonus alternate POV scene and is on sale for 50% off on Amazon (subject to change)!
Wall Street meets the Sons of Anarchy in Hard Rules, the smoldering, scorching first novel in the explosively sexy new Dirty Money series from New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones.

Read my Review of this incredible story Here!

SYNOPSIS

How bad do you want it?
The only man within the Brandon empire with a moral compass, Shane Brandon is ready to take his family’s business dealings legitimate. His reckless and ruthless brother, Derek wants to keep Brandon Enterprises cemented in lies, deceit, and corruption. But the harder Shane fights to pull the company back into the light, the darker he has to become. Then he meets Emily Stevens, a woman who not only stirs a voracious sexual need in him, but becomes the only thing anchoring him between good and evil.
Emily is consumed by Shane, pushed sexually in ways she never dreamed of, falling deeper into the all-encompassing passion that is this man. She trusts him. He trusts her, but therein lies the danger. Emily has a secret, the very thing that brought her to him in the first place, and that secret that could that destroy them both.

BUY LINKS

 

ABOUT LISA RENEE JONES

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series, which is now in development for a television show to be produced by Suzanne Todd of Team Todd (Alice in Wonderland). Suzanne Todd on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy – a modern girl we all can identify with. I’m thrilled to develop a television show that will tell Sara’s whole story – her life, her work, her friends, and her sexuality.
In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin’s Press.
Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.
Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and she is active on Twitter and Facebook daily.
SOCIAL LINKS:
Text List and Newsletter: http://bit.ly/LRJTextList

Hard Rules, by Lisa Renee Jones – Stunningly Sexy and Suspenseful (Book Review)

Hard Rules (Dirty Money, #1)Hard Rules by Lisa Renee Jones
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Cain and Abel, Thor and Loki, Michael and Fredo Corleone … just a few of the hundreds of stories, penned over thousands of years, portraying sibling rivalry gone horribly wrong. The relentless quest for power, money, influence, favor, or ownership of the family dynasty rarely ends well. Lisa Renee Jones takes this premise to an epic level and over the top in Hard Rules, #1 of her new Dirty Money series. It’s riveting. And that’s only the beginning…

This is a story of a family legacy, Brandon Enterprises, a conglomerate whose demise is threatened when its patriarch becomes terminally ill. Shane, one of Brandon’s two sons and the would-be hero of this dark saga, is reluctantly recruited from his successful law practice to help save the business – only to find that it’s tainted with secrets, lies, deception, greed, and illegal deals supported not only by his ruthless, seemingly unredeemable father, but his meddling mother, and his brother, Derek, all of whom who will stop at nothing to keep Shane from cleaning up the mess. Duplicity surrounds this dysfunctional family, where loyalty means nothing at all. Despite the title, there are few, if any rules, other than to try and stay ahead of the wolf at the door.

Enter Emily, a mysterious stranger with secrets of her own; secrets that may prove as dark, if not darker, than the ones facing Shane. After a brief encounter in a coffee shop, they are drawn to each other in a powerful way, too intense to resist. Shane, an alpha male in every sense of the word, overpowers Emily with his dark sensuality; in turn, Emily intrigues him with her own raw sexuality, and what begins as a one-night stand quickly turns into something far more important to both of them.

Naturally, this is where the real conflict begins, and you won’t get any spoilers here because you simply MUST read this stunning drama for yourself. On the surface, you’d be tempted to think this is a clear case of right and wrong, black and white — but you’d be wrong. Nothing is as it seems, and as the stakes grow higher and the secrets get deeper, so does the danger.

If you’ve read any other reviews, you already know this story ends with a staggering cliffhanger that will make you literally crave the next book, Damage Control. It will leave you with countless unanswered questions and plenty of room for anything to happen, especially when whatever secrets Emily is holding back are revealed. Truly, this situation can only get worse – much worse – before it gets better.

I finished this erotic, electric, dramatic story in one sitting – and have already pre-ordered the sequel, at which time I will probably stay up all night to see what happens next. If you love sexy, suspenseful, strong characters and powerful conflicts, you need to read Hard Rules today.

Pre-Order Damage Control (Dirty Money #2) Here: Amazon US

View all my reviews

Hard Rules, by Lisa Renee Jones — Coming Soon!

Teaser for Hard Rules, by Lisa Renee Jones

HARD RULES

#1 in the new Dirty Money Series by Lisa Renee Jones…Available August 9th!

How bad do you want it?

 

The only man within the Brandon Empire with a moral compass, Shane Brandon is ready to take his family’s business dealings legitimate. His reckless and ruthless brother, Derek, wants to keep Brandon Enterprises cemented in lies, deceit, and corruption. But the harder Shane fights to pull the company back into the light, the darker he has to become. Then he meets Emily Stevens, a woman who not only stirs a voracious sexual need in him, but becomes the only thing anchoring him between good and evil.

Emily is consumed by Shane, pushed sexually in ways she never dreamed of, falling deeper into the all-encompassing passion that is this man. She trusts him. He trusts her, but therein lies the danger. Emily has a secret, the very thing that brought her to him in the first place, and that secret could destroy them both.
 

Book Cover, Hard Rules, by Lisa Renee Jones

A note from Lisa:

I am SO excited for this series to come out, because it is so unlike my other series. I am hoping my readers love it just as much as I did when I was writing it! And there will be FOUR full-length novels in this series. I don’t have cover or buy links for them yet so, PLEASE be sure to sign up for my text list and/or newsletter, both found here: http://lisareneejones.com/text-list. That will be where/how I communicate when these titles, and others, are available for pre-order, on sale or when I have a big giveaway!

XOXO,
LRJ

 

Add Hard Rules to Goodreads

Buy Hard Rules Here:

Amazon Kindle      B&N Nook     Kobo     iBooks     Google Play     Lisa’s Website

ABOUT LISA RENEE JONES

Photo of author Lisa Renee JonesNew York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series, which is now in development for a television show to be produced by Suzanne Todd of Team Todd (Alice in Wonderland). Suzanne Todd on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy – a modern girl we all can identify with. I’m thrilled to develop a television show that will tell Sara’s whole story – her life, her work, her friends, and her sexuality.

In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin’s Press.

Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

 

Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and she is active on Twitter and Facebook daily.

Website: www.lisareneejones.com
Twitter: https://Twitter.com/lisareneejones (@lisareneejones)
Facebook: https://Facebook.com/lisareneejones
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/73977.Lisa_Renee_Jones
Amazon: https://Amazon.com/author/lrj

Hard Rules Ad, full size

Hard Rules, by Lisa Renee Jones: Chapter 1, and More To Come!

Hard Rules, #1 in the Dirty Money series by Lisa Renee Jones

 

There’s no such thing as good money or bad money. There’s just money.

—Lucky Luciano

Hard Rules (Dirty Money, #1)

by Lisa Renee Jones

 

CHAPTER ONE

Shane

I park the silver Bentley convertible, which my father gifted me last year for saving his ass, into my reserved spot in the garage of the downtown Denver high-rise building owned by our family conglomerate, Brandon Enterprises. It’s a car he and I both know was far more about his attempt to drag me to the dark side, and aligning me with his way of doing business, than the thank-you for keeping his ass out of jail. I’d have refused the damn thing if my mother hadn’t begged me to take it, insisting I’d bruise him when he’s already fragile and cancer-ridden. Like my father ever fucking bruises and he damn sure isn’t fragile. And if he knew I’d coddled him, he’d most likely spit in my face, and tell me I’m a disappointment.

Killing the engine, I exit the vehicle and stare at my older brother’s white 911 Porsche, also a gift from my father, ironically and most likely for getting us into the very mess I’d returned to Denver to clean up. Jaw clenched, I shove my keys into the pocket of the gray two-thousand-dollar suit I’d bought back in New York, a reward to myself for winning a high-profile case for one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. I wore it today to remind myself that I’m a few well-played cards from conquering the challenge I took when I returned home: Becoming the head of the family empire when my father retires and replacing all the dirty money running through six of the seven asset companies with good, clean, cash. Namely, the revenue produced by Brandon Pharmaceuticals, or BP, the newest asset I’d forced into acquisition only three months ago.

I head toward the elevators, when my cell phone buzzes with a text. Fishing it from my jacket pocket, I glance down to read a message from my secretary, Jessica: Seth just called. Needs to speak to you urgently. I told him you had a meeting at the BP division this morning and he hung up on me. Knowing Seth, he’ll show up at your meeting. Seth was the one person I brought to the company with me, and the only person other than Jessica who I trust now that I’m here.

I punch the call button for the elevator, and dial Seth. “I’m pulling into the BP parking lot now to see you,” he says by way of greeting.

“I just pulled into the garage downtown.”

“Son of a bitch. I’m pulling a U-turn at the security gates. I have something you need to see now, not later, and I can’t talk about it on the phone. Is your brother in the building?”

I glance at the Porsche. “His car’s here so I assume he is as well. What the hell has Derek done now?”

“Let’s just say I’m not sure it’s a good idea that he’s in close range when you find out. Let’s meet outside the office.”

“Fuck me,” I growl.

“No,” he amends. “More like fuck us all.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” I say, catching the elevator door that’s opened and already trying to close. “Meet me at the coffee shop.”

“That still puts you in the same building as him. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just hurry the hell up and get here,” I order testily, ending the call and stepping into the otherwise empty car where I punch the L button on the panel to my left. In the short trip to the lobby level, I manage to come up with at least five ways my brother could fuck over the plays I have in action, and I’m still counting.

Exiting into the gray marble corridor, I walk toward the huge oval foyer of the building and then to the right, where a coffee shop is nestled between a restaurant and a postal facility, both of which rent from Brandon Enterprises. I head to the counter when Karen, the owner of the coffee shop—a robust forty-something woman with red hair and a big attitude—appears, leaving me no escape from her habitual chitchat.

“Well, well, well,” she says, leaning on the counter. “Now I know what I’m missing on the morning shift and I do declare that seeing Shane Brandon himself, instead of his secretary, is a better ‘wake-me-up’ than any java shot I sell. But then, you Brandon boys came by those looks honestly. That father of yours is a looker.”

And therein lies the reason she irritates the shit out of my mother and I happily treat Jessica to afternoon coffee to have her bring me mine. Karen’s not only a chatterbox and a flirt, she has it bad for my father.

“All right now,” Karen says, grabbing a cup and pen, and preparing to write. “Large latte with a triple shot?”

“Just what the doctor ordered,” I confirm, though I have a feeling once Seth arrives I’ll be wishing for a bottle of whiskey.

“Will do, honey,” she says, giving me a wink before moving toward the espresso machine. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

I retreat to the end of the counter where the orders are delivered, resting my elbow on the ledge, retreating into my mind and chasing problems made worse by the division between Derek and I. He’s thirty-seven, five years my senior, and the rightful successor to our father. I’d happily stepped aside and started my own life, but damn it to hell, I know things now and I can’t walk away.

My order appears and I straighten, intending to claim my coffee and find a seat, when a pretty twenty-something brunette races forward in a puff of sweet, floral-scented perfume, and grabs it.

“Miss,” I begin, “that’s—”

She takes a sip and grimaces. “What is this?” She turns to the counter. “Excuse me,” she calls out. “My drink is wrong.”

“Because it’s not your drink,” Karen reprimands her, setting a new cup on the counter. “This is your drink.” She reaches for my cup and turns it around, pointing to the name scribbled on the side. “This one’s for Shane.” She glances at me. “I’ll be right back to fix this. I have another customer.”

I wave my acknowledgment and she hurries away, while my floral-scented coffee thief faces me, her porcelain cheeks flushed, her full, really damn distracting mouth, painted pink. “I’m so sorry,” she offers quickly. “I thought I was the only one without my coffee and I was in a hurry.” She starts to hand me my coffee and then quickly sets it on the counter. “You can’t have that. I drank out of it.”

“I saw that,” I say, picking it up. “You grimaced with disgust after trying it.”

Her eyes, a pale blue that matches the short-sleeved silk blouse, go wide. “Oh. I mean no. Or I did, but not because it’s a bad cup of coffee. It’s just very strong.”

“It’s a triple-shot latte.”

“A triple,” she says, looking quite serious. “Did you know that in some third-world countries they bottle that stuff and sell it as a way to grow hair on your chest.” She lowers her voice and whispers, “That’s not a good look for me.”

“Fortunately,” I say in the midst of a chuckle I would have claimed wasn’t possible five minutes ago, “I don’t share that dilemma.” I lift my cup and add, “Cheers,” before taking a drink, the heavy, rich flavor sliding over my tongue.

She pales, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, before repeating, “I drank from that cup.”

“I know,” I say, offering it back to her. “Try another drink.”

She takes the cup and sets it on the counter. “I can’t drink that. And you can’t either.” She points to the hole on top, now smudged pink. “My lipstick is all over it and I really hate to tell you this but it’s all over you too and . . .” She laughs, a soft, sexy sound, her hands settling on her slender, but curvy hips, accented by a fitted black skirt. “Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but it’s not a good shade for you.”

I laugh now too, officially and impossibly charmed by this woman in spite of being in the middle of what feels like World War III. “Seems you know how to make a lasting impression.”

“Thankfully it’s not lasting,” she says. “It’ll wipe right off. And thank you for being such a good sport. I really am sorry again for all of this.”

“Apologize by getting it off me.”

Confusion puckers her brow. “What?”

“You put it on me.” I grab a napkin from the counter and offer it to her. “You get it off.”

“I put it on the cup,” she says, clearly recovering her quick wit. “You put it on you.”

“I assure you, that had I put it on me, we both would have enjoyed it much more than we are now.” I glance at the napkin. “Are you going to help me?”

Her cheeks flush and she hugs herself, her sudden shyness an intriguing contrast to her confident banter. “I’ll let you know if you don’t get it all.”

My apparently lipstick-stained lips curve at her quick wit but I take the napkin and wipe my mouth, arching a questioning brow when I’m done. She points to the corner of my mouth. “A little more on the left.”

I hand her the napkin. “You do it.”

She inhales, as if for courage, but takes it. “Fine,” she says, stepping closer, that wicked sweet scent of hers teasing my nostrils. Wasting no time, she reaches for my mouth, her body swaying in my direction while my hand itches to settle at her waist. I want this woman and I’m not letting her get away.

“There,” she says, her arm lowering, and not about to let her escape, I capture her hand, holding it and the napkin between us.

Those gorgeous pale blue eyes of hers dart to mine, wide with surprise, the connection sparking an unmistakable charge between us, which I feel with an unexpected, but not unwelcome, jolt. “Thank you,” I say, softening the hard demand in my tone that long ago became natural.

“I owed you,” she says, her voice steady, but there’s a hint of panic in her eyes that isn’t what I expect from this clearly confident, smart woman.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Emily,” she replies, sounding just a hint breathless. I decide right then that I like her breathless but I’d like her a whole lot more if she were naked and breathless. “And you’re Shane.”

“That’s right,” I say, already thinking of all the ways I could make her say my name again. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve never been here before,” she counters and I have this sense that we are sparring, when we’re not. Or are we?

My cell phone rings and I silently curse the timing, some sixth sense telling me that the minute I let go of this woman, she’s gone, but I also have to think about whatever explosion Seth is trying to contain. “Don’t move,” I order, before releasing her to dig my phone from my pocket. I glance down at the caller ID to find my mother’s number, and just that fast, Emily darts around me.

I curse and turn, fully intending to pursue her, only to have Seth step in front of me. Considering the man equals my six feet two inches, and is broader than I am wide, he stops me in my tracks. I grimace and he arches a blond brow that matches the thick waves of hair on his head. “Looking for me?”

“You’ll do,” I say, reaching for my coffee and bypassing it to pick up Emily’s instead, or rather holding it captive for the return I doubt she’ll make.

“Good to see you too,” he says, the words dripping with his trademark sarcasm, which five years of knowing him has taught me to expect.

“Bring me good news for once,” I say, motioning us forward, leading the way through several display racks of chocolates and coffees, as well as a trio of empty tables, to claim a seat at a corner table facing the entryway.

Seth sits next to me rather than across from me, keeping an eye on the door, the ex-CIA agent in him ever present, his skills and loyalty paired with his no-nonsense attitude only a few of the reasons I recruited him from my firm in New York. He opens a large white envelope and pulls out a picture, setting it in front of me. “The private security company we contracted to do surveillance on your brother delivered this to me about an hour ago.”

I stare down at the image of my brother handing a large envelope to a man I’ve never seen before. I eye Seth. “Who is he?”

“He works for the FDA.”

Any remnant of pleasure I’d taken from the exchange with Emily disappears. “Obviously it’s related to the pharmaceutical division and I don’t even want to think about how many laws we broke in that exchange.”

“That’s why I wanted you to see it right away.”

“Do we know what was in the envelope? Do we know anything?”

“The FDA employee’s name and tenure. That’s about it, but I authorized the security team to follow him as of today.”

I glance at the picture, wrestling with anger that will get me nowhere but the hell to which my brother is trying to drag me. “This is the aftermath of last week’s stockholder meeting. I walked in there singing the praises of BP profit margins, with the promise that once the FDA approves our new asthma drug, it would allow us to let go of all the dirty money.”

“And all they heard was the chance to double their money,” Seth supplies. “Enter Derek, who promises to make it happen in a ploy to claim the table. You knew this could happen. We talked about it. Dishonest people don’t suddenly become honest.”

“No,” I say tightly. “They don’t. And I haven’t been operating with the same killer instincts as I did in the firm or this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Because you still haven’t let go of the firm.”

“It’s not the firm I haven’t let go of. It’s my brother. Because despite my denial, I knew staying meant my brother became my enemy.”

Seth leans closer. “Listen to me, Shane. I’m thirty-five years old. I did seven years in the CIA and five years of contract work all over the world before I happened to take a job that threw us together. I’ve seen monsters. I’ve seen criminals. I’ve seen your family and I say this not just as the person you hired to have your back, but the friend who would have it anyway.” He taps the image of my brother in the photo. “This man is your enemy. And I’m not going to let you forget it.”

“He’s also my brother, and this is my family, who I want to save.”

“You may not be able to.”

“I’m aware of that and if I don’t take this company as my life, the way I did my law career, I won’t succeed. And believe me, I’ve navigated enough family-driven litigation to know that blood divides as easily as it unites, especially when money and power are involved. I have to get ahead of this before we all end up bloody or in jail.”

“So we agree. This is war.”

“It’s always been war.”

Want More? Pre-order Hard Rules today and enter the giveaway here!