He
could have it all… but all he wants is her.
Ink
& Iron, Book 1
During
his soaring career as the lead singer of indie-rock band Ink & Iron, Cole
Kennrick has been through it all: sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Overindulging
until he lost what mattered most.
Now
he’s pulled his life together and left his addictions behind, except for one:
his ex-wife, Janie. If only he can convince her their love was—still is—the
real thing.
In
the seven years since their divorce, Janie has kept tabs on the only man she’s
ever truly loved. The one she had to leave in order to save herself. Still,
dark and often kinky desires they explored together linger in her dreams and
fantasies.
Janie
has seen up close and way-too-personal that rock stars are bad, bad medicine.
But when Cole shows up at her yoga studio, clean and sober, his
leather-and-motorcycles scent teasing her senses, it’s way too tempting to slip
right back into the one place she swore she’d never risk again—his arms.
EXCERPT
#2: R-rated 680 words (reference to power play)
Squirming,
she pushed away from him, fighting down the emotion that wanted to overwhelm
her.
“I
can’t go there, Cole. I don’t want to talk about my fears with you. Or being
your girl. Or my fucking hair, for God’s sake! This is…ridiculous. Impossible.”
But
the sheer masculine beauty of his face—a face thousands of women would have
killed to be close to—and the sincerity of his tone were getting to her. That,
and the pure chemistry that still sizzled and snapped in the air between them
like static electricity before a storm.
The
past was the past. Wasn’t it? How was it possible that she still responded to
him like this? She couldn’t seem to think straight.
“Have
dinner with me tonight. We can talk.”
Her
mind spun with images of them together in the darkness, with nothing but the
light of the moon shining on their naked bodies through the windows of their
old house in Venice Beach… Those images drove the other ones away, and she
wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or if it was bad, but this certainly felt
better. “Tonight?” she asked uncertainly.
“Seven
o’clock. I’ll pick you up wherever you tell me to. Here. Your home.” An air of
command in his voice even while he was giving her options. How did he do that?
“I
didn’t say I was going.”
He
smiled, a devastating flash of strong white teeth. “You didn’t say you
weren’t.”
“Damn
it, Cole,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted to say
no, but oh, the storm was coming.
He
let out a low chuckle. “Still have to be a little mouthy before you give in.
But you know I’ve always liked that about you.”
Oh,
they were so not getting into the whole power exchange thing. She’d be lost.
“I
can still say no.”
He
only smiled, making her want him to kiss her again. And again. And damn it, he
had her. For dinner, anyway.
She
shook her head. “Okay. Okay. But I’ll meet you. Just tell me where.”
“Come
on, Janie girl. You know I’m more of a gentleman than that. There is no way I’m
not picking you up.”
She
blew out a breath, dropped her arms and turned to grab a pen and a green sticky
note from her teak desk. “This is my address.”
He
glanced at the note. “Los Feliz. Cool, funky neighborhood. You close to
Griffith Park?”
“Yes.”
“Nice.”
She
raised her chin a few notches. “Yes. It is.”
He
leaned in until she could feel his breath warm on her cheek, his voice low. “I
understand you being defensive, finding it hard to trust even having a simple
conversation with me. I get it, baby. But just for tonight, for what we had between
us once, I need you to find a way to let me in. A little, at least.”
She
nodded, unable to speak, his scent going through her like a live wire.
It
had always been like this. He’d always had this effect on her—rendering her
speechless simply by standing close to her. His touch was absolutely
devastating. And his scent… God, no man had a right to smell that good.
Another
shiver ran through her as she breathed him in. She would see him. She would be
open to talking. But she would not let him make her head spin like the teenager
who had fallen so hopelessly in love with him.
That’s
a lie. You’ve never been able to resist him.
She
wished it weren’t true. But that was the main reason she’d never faced him once
the divorce papers were signed. Because she knew if she spent ten minutes alone
with him—even after the drug and alcohol abuse, even after the nights she’d
spent alone wondering where the hell he was, having him come home staggering at
six in the morning—turning away from him would be impossible. She wasn’t sure
she could do it again.
She
was an idiot.
She
nodded. “Seven o’clock.”
Copyright
Eden Bradley 2015
NY
Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
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