~*~ DIRTY by Kylie Scott Excerpt Reveal! ~*~

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Excerpt

Heavy footsteps roused me from my stupor. I don’t know how long exactly I’d been sitting in the bathtub, staring off at nothing, pondering the catastrophe my life had become. Couldn’t have been too long since sunlight still lit the room.

The footsteps came closer and closer. And then they entered the room. Oh, shit. I froze, not even daring to breathe. There was a loud yawn, followed by the cracking of joints. Then a large hand reached in beside the closed shower curtain and turned on the tap. A torrent of ice cold water poured down. It was like a billion itty-bitty knives stabbing at my skin. All of the scratches and raw patches from earlier stung like shit. I gritted my teeth, shoulders hiked up to around my ears as if that would provide any protection.

Yep, I sat there, all huddled up, listening to the man take a leak.

Awesome. Just plain awesome.

Wasn’t like I could jump out and interrupt the man midflow. And say what? I knew this was not a good situation to get caught in.

  1. I’d basically broken into this guy’s house.
  2. And had then gone on making myself right at home, having a messy emotional breakdown in his bathtub.

Normal, rational people didn’t do this sort of thing. I didn’t even have a criminal record, had never particularly done anything outlandish or interesting until now. This was all Chris’s fault, the bastard. I’d just have to make the best of it and hope this guy had a sense of humor.

Just as the water began to warm, he flushed the john and freezing cold water drenched me anew. I’d been about to open my mouth and announce my presence, but that put an end to that. Needles of icy cold water pelted down on my skin. I fucking froze. Teeth gritted, I suppressed a squeal of pain and rage.

Then the shower curtain flew back.

“Shit!” The man was very tall, very naked, and very surprised. He stumbled back a step, a hand clutching at the bench behind him, eyes furious and wide. “What the hell?”

Good question.

I opened my mouth, closed it. Language skills had apparently abandoned me. In total silence, the man and I stared at each other.

Even with no clothing to take cues from, the dude was clearly the epitome of cool. He looked about my age, or maybe a little older. He had longish red-blond hair, dark blue eyes set in an angular face, a lean but muscular torso covered in tattoos, and a rather large cock. Not that I meant to check him out, it’s just kind of hard to ignore a penis and scrotum when they’re dangling right in front of your face. I tilted my head, trying to get some perspective. Every viewpoint, however, was equally shocking. There was dick as far as the eye could see.

And I should stop ogling him. Right.

“Hi.” With a calm I didn’t even vaguely feel, I reached up and turned off the tap. Much better. His monster penis had momentarily derailed me, but I was back on track now. Time to talk myself out of this mess. “Hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he asked flatly.

“Right. Well . . .” I neatly tucked my dripping-wet shoulder-length blond hair back behind my ears. As if that would help. My winged eyeliner and false lashes were probably halfway down my cheeks. “I, um, I . . .”

“You what?”

“I’m Lydia,” I said, the first thing to come to mind.

No reply. His handsome face, however, took on a distinctly pissy expression. Even his strawberry-blond hair seemed a fiery hue. Fine, so we weren’t swapping names and getting cozy. Fair enough. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was, keeping my eyes on his face. The struggle was real. It might have been due to my not seeing one in so long, but his dick seemed almost hypnotic. The thing had magical powers, I swear. It was so big and mobile, subtly swaying every time he moved. My gaze kept darting down despite my best efforts.

Finally he put me out of my misery, grabbing a towel off a nearby rack and wrapping it around his waist. It made for quite the hot-looking miniskirt. Not just any man could have pulled off such a look.

But back to my explanations.

“Ah, firstly, I’d just like to say sorry about this.” I waved a hand at him and his bathroom and, well everything, really. “For any inconvenience I might have caused here in your bathroom.”

The guy stood tall, looming over me with his hands on hips. Tattoos covered his arms to his wrists. Still, he had a whole lot of sinew on show. Definitely not the kind of man you’d want to mess with. Dude could probably snap me in half in a second. I bet he was a tattoo model, or a biker, or a pirate, or something. Something a lot hot and more than a little scary.

Shit. I really should have chosen another house.

“I don’t normally break into people’s places and hide out in their tub,” I babbled, on the verge of incoherency. “So I’m really sorry. Seriously. So very sorry. But you’ve got a lovely home.”

“That so?”

“Not that, I mean, that’s not why I’m here. I just . . .” Fucking hell, my mind was a disaster. I took a deep breath, letting it out nice and slow, before trying again. “I love the old Arts and Crafts bungalows, don’t you? They have such soul.”

His brows drew tight. “Are you high? What the fuck are you on?”

“Nothing!”

“You haven’t been popping any pills or snorting something?”

“No, I swear.”

“Nothing to drink?”

“I haven’t had anything,” I said, but the suspicion and anger still lined his face. Paired with the stubble on his chin and the shadows beneath his eyes, my unwilling host was one tired, cranky man. Couldn’t really blame him.

“So you’re completely sober,” he said.

“Completely.”

A pause.

“You’re thinking I’m bat-shit crazy now, aren’t you?” I asked, despite the answer sitting plain as day on his pretty face.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Oh, god. “I’m not. I’m sane.”

“You sure about that?” He looked down the long line of his nose at me, distinctly unimpressed. “Seen a lot of weird shit in my years. Stuff like you wouldn’t believe. But I got to tell you, right now, this . . . you, are taking the cake.”

“Great.” And I was so definitely probably going to jail. Someone ought to give me a cookie. My ability to take a bad situation and make it worse today was amazing.

“You touch any of my stuff?” he asked. “Take anything?”

“Yes, your sofa is cunningly hidden down the front of my dress. You won’t believe where I fit the TV.”

Again, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Between you and me, probably not the time to be funny, babe.”

Crap. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You have every right to be mad.”

“Damn right, I do.”

I nodded, contrite. “I haven’t touched any of your things.”

The dude just stood there, staring. Lots going on behind his eyes. None of which I could read.

A stray tear trickled down my face. It must have saved itself up just for the occasion. Gah. How pathetic. I sniffled, brushing it off hurriedly with the back of my hand.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

“I really am sorry about this. The truth is, I just needed somewhere to hide for a little while. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

He sighed. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Lydia?”

“Yes?” Despite my best efforts, my voice trembled slightly.

“Look at me.”

I did so. He still looked cranky and crazy cool while I remained a hot mess.

“I’m Vaughan,” he said.

“Hi.”

He tipped his chin and silence fell between us once more.

With the tip of his tongue rubbing at his upper lip, he looked at the wide open window, and then back at me. Yep, that’s how I’d gotten in. Houdini had nothing on my mad skills.

“What are you doing in my house, Lydia? The truth.”

“It’s kind of a long story, actually.” Along with being excruciatingly embarrassing. But then, what wasn’t about this day?

Vaughan crossed his arms over his wide chest and waited me out while I fussed with my ruined skirts and tried to come up with a way to spin the story to not make me look a complete fool. Christ, the holes in my stockings were huge. On one side, my entire foot stuck out. So screwed.

Vaughan crouched by the side of the tub, resting his arms on the side. Up close the shadows under his eyes seemed even bigger and darker against his pale skin. And there were bags big enough to use as carry-ons. Despite the strong lines of his lean face, the man looked done-in. Ready to sleep for a hundred years.

I knew that feeling.

“Looks like a wedding dress,” he said quietly.

“Yes, it is. I was going to get married today.” I took a deep breath, wiping my face with my hands. Just as expected, my palms came away smeared with black eye makeup. “Ah, boy. I must look a wreck.”

Without comment, Vaughan reached out and grabbed a towel, handing it to me. It was sort of threadbare, old. Dated like the rest of the house. I hadn’t seen more than one room, but real estate agents got a feel for these sort of things. Minimal upkeep for the past five or so years would have been my guess. Perhaps it’d even been left empty. Bushes out front hid the house from view, so I’d never gotten a good look at it before.

“Thank you.” I patted myself dry with the towel as best I could. What remained of my beautiful dress was a sopping wet ruin. “I’m sorry I broke into your house, Vaughan. I swear I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”

“No,” he said, his voice deep. “Figured as much. Where’d you come from?”

“The big house at the back.”

His brow wrinkled. “You climbed over the fence?”

“Yes.”

Tired, red-tinged eyes appraised me anew. “That’s a tall fence. Must have been one hell of an emergency.”

“It was a disaster.”

For a long moment he studied me, deep in thought. Then he sighed yet again, climbing to his feet.

“Are you going to call the cops on me?” I asked, my throat tight with tension. “I know you have every right to, I’m not disputing that. I’d just, I’d like to know. Mental preparation and all that.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” My whole body sagged in relief.

Then he clapped his hands together, startling the crap out of me. “Okay, Lydia. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Yes?”

“I arrived late this morning, have only had a few hours sleep. If I don’t get some coffee soon, things are going to get ugly. And you probably need to get dried off.” With no fuss, he held out his hand. “Let’s get shit sorted out. Then we can sit down and you can tell me the long story of how the hell you ended up in my house. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said, voice lightening.

He pulled me up. Then, with strong hands on my waist, lifted me out of the tub. Immediately water started dripping off of my saturated dress, pooling on the scuffed wooden flooring at my feet. Chris would have been distinctly unimpressed. Chris didn’t like messes. But as Vaughan didn’t seem to care, neither did I.

“You’re really not going to call the police?” I asked.

“No. Hold still,” he said, carefully plucking a fake eyelash from my cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Your dress is kind of fucked.” He looked me over from top to toe.

“I know,” I said sadly.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.”

“Wait. Please. I can’t get out of it on my own.”

More frowning.

“It’s vintage,” I explained with a grim face. “There’s no zip, just a line of little buttons up the back.”

“’Course there is.” Without another word, he turned me around and got started in on said buttons. As he worked, he hummed beneath his breath, the song vaguely familiar.

“Aren’t you still mad?” I asked, perplexed.

“Nuh.”

“But I broke into your house.”

“Window was open.”

“I still trespassed.”

Busy fingers kept working on undoing the dress. “You sat in the tub and cried because some dickhead fucked you over.”

That shut me up.

“Or that’s what I’m assuming, given the dress and all. I take it he’s the one that gave you that shiner on your cheek?”

“No. No one hit me. And yes, you assumed right about the being fucked over.” I tried to look back at him, but I couldn’t see a thing beyond my wild-ass hair. Impressive how it’d survived the shower. The stylist clearly knew her shit.

“You sure no one hit you?” He did not sound convinced.

“Yes. I lost my grip and hit the floor when I was climbing in the window. My home invasion skills need work.”

“I’d suggest you try a different career.” He finished with the buttons and took a step back, scratching his head. “You okay with the dress now?”

“Yes, thank you,” I told his reflection in the mirror. “For everything, I mean.”

“Sure.” He almost smiled and gave a small shake of the head as if he couldn’t quite believe what was going on. Or maybe it was disbelief that he wasn’t kicking me straight back out the window through whence I’d come.

Lord knows, it’d shocked the shit out of me.

He turned toward the door. “See you out there.”

dirty preorder

Are you ready to get DIRTY!?!

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Title: DIRTY

Series: Dive Bar Series

Release Date: April 19th!

Genre: Erotica-Contemporary / Rockstar Romance

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Blurb

The last thing Vaughan Hewson expects to find when he returns to his childhood home is a broken hearted bride in his shower, let alone the drama and chaos that comes with her.

Lydia Green doesn’t know whether to burn down the church or sit and cry in a corner. Discovering the love of your life is having an affair on your wedding day is bad enough. Finding out it’s with his best man is another thing all together. She narrowly escapes tying the knot and meets Vaughan only hours later.

Vaughan is the exact opposite of the picture perfect, respected businessman she thought she’d marry. This former musician-turned-bartender is rough around the edges and unsettled. But she already tried Mr. Right and discovered he’s all wrong-maybe it’s time to give Mr. Right Now a chance.

After all, what’s wrong with getting dirty?

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Pre-order your copy of DIRTY here:

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kylie scott

Kylie is a long time fan of erotic love stories and B-grade horror films. She demands a happy ending and if blood and carnage occur along the way then all the better. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and one delightful husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.

Kylie is represented by Amy Tannenbaum at the Jane Rotrosen Agency, New York.

Stalk Kylie Scott: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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**Blog Tour + Review** AWAKEN ME by Alex Grayson!

 

 

 

 

What do you do when you lose the single most important thing

in your life? You grieve. You sink so deep in a hole, you can no longer see the

top. All you see is dark. Your life becomes dull and dreary. You withdraw from

your friends, lash out at the ones your closest to, and become so absorbed in

your pain, you feel the only way out is to end it permanently. Your heart no

longer pumps properly and you can never get enough air in your lungs. You

drink, you neglect your health, and you rent dirty hotel rooms with the sole purpose

of ending your pain in them. Guilt eats at you for not being at the one place

you were needed the most. And you become angry because you were left behind.

Or at least, that’s what I did. Until she came along…

 

Chris, the bane of my existence. She’s always there in the

background, watching me, trying to ‘be there’ for me. But I don’t want her

help. I don’t need her to butt in where she’s not wanted. I just want to be

left alone in my grief. But she not giving up, even when I throw insult after

insult her way. Every time I turn around, there she is. And what’s worse, she’s

starting to make me want things. Things I never thought I could have again.

She’s making me forget the pain and bringing color back into my life with her

fiery red hair, bright green eyes, and the silly faces she makes at herself in

the mirror. But what happens if I let her in? Could I be brave enough to open

myself up, knowing the possibility of having it snatched away again. Once I

know the feeling of touching Chris, of having her heart and soul blend with

mine, I would never survive losing that.

 

Can I take the chance of her being my savior, even knowing

that she could also be the one that could push me other the edge of

self-destruction?

 

 

 

    

Syrina’s ✩✩✩ Review

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Emotional turmoil and Grieving Creative Writing 

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First off the Author has a way with brilliantly weaving a tragic tale so vividly your imagination goes into a sort of overload full of emotion.  The turmoil you feel seems to invade your senses, your distinct nuance and every painful, precise, sharp and devastating memory in your soul that comes back to haunt you.

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Second Chance Romance Factor

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Although I did not find any sexy romantic moments in this piece, I'll tell you what I did find:  

I loved the premise of this tragic second chance romance, I would not segregate it into a dark romance category.  I was a bit disappointed with Nick the entire time, he always seem to let me, Chris, and his friends down time after time with his crass behavior, rude conduct and abhorrent abuse to Chris.   

The back and forth is this story left me absolutely drained from Nick’s woes and tears to Chris’s ‘I forgive yous’ and ‘Nick and I’ are over’s that I have lost any sort of connection to any character in this series.  It might have been to much of an emotional overload for me.

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Book Boyfriends – Book Girl Friends

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Nick was portrayed as the broken, hopeless, shattered soul that allowed his tragic past to decimate any sort of hope for a new future or a second chance love to enter his dreary life.  He has lived in grief and let survivors remorse rule every minute on every hour from his tragic past, all memories seem to affect his psyche and he really is at his breaking point. 

Chris really was a strong heroine that always put others before herself.  A true caring woman whos only thought is the needs of others and always willing to save, heal, and give to a soul.  Someone that wears her emotions on her sleeve and strong enough to bring light into a loving future just might be enough to piece a fallen man together again.

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Thank you Alex Grayson for allowing me to Read, Review and give MY two cents worth in your emotional tale!

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Catch up on the entire series here!

 

Pain.

 

That’s a word Bailey Winsor knows well, having endured it since she was a child from the people that were supposed to protect her. Just when her life appears normal, something Bailey has never experienced, she meets a man and falls in love.

 

Love can be deceiving.

 

Bailey jumps from the frying pan that was her childhood and into the burning bowels of hell, which is her sick and twisted husband. It’s hopeless. Suffering more years of abuse, Bailey eventually realizes that she has no choice but to run. 

 

Forced to stop in a small town in Ohio, Bailey encounters a town full of people that welcome her with open arms, especially Jaxon Walker, the tattooed and pierced local bar owner. Bailey has secrets she’s unwilling to reveal. Jaxon senses her fear and refuses to give up trying to discover them.

 

Will Bailey be brave enough and learn to trust Jaxon with her deepest secrets? Will Jaxon be strong enough to protect Bailey when her past comes knocking at her door?

 

 

 

 

****WARNING! PLEASE READ!! This book contains content like rape, drugs, and hard situations that may trigger bad memories for those that has been in similar situations. Not suitable for anyone under 18. **** 

 

Enduring the ultimate betrayal on her eighteenth birthday by the one person she loves most in the world, Mia Walker is no longer the innocent, sweet, young woman she used to be. She is now cold and hard, letting no one get close to her heart, except family. 

 

Mackai (Mac) Weston sees the changes in Mia on a daily basis. He knows he is the reason Mia is now the way she is. Never given the chance to explain what really happened that night so long ago, Mac is determined to make Mia finally listen and reclaim what was always his. 

 

When the truth finally comes out, danger shows its ugly face. There are people in Jaded Hollow that do not want Mac and Mia together. They are willing to do what ever it takes to keep them apart. 

 

Will Mac be strong enough to overcome temptation, even when the odds are against him? Will Mia forgive Mac when she realizes things weren’t what they seemed ten years ago?

 

 

 

 

 

Andrew Donovan is the outrageous goofy guy that everyone loves. In any setting he’s in, he takes front stage and makes everyone laugh; from his ridiculously funny t-shirts, to his naughty jokes, to his shameless flirting with anything that walks, both men and women. But what you see on the outside can sometimes be deceiving. Andrew has a secret. A secret that’s slowly withering away the fun loving guy that everyone knows. A secret that even his closest friends know nothing about.

 

When he first sees Jase in a picture, he knows instantly that he’s found the one person who will be his forever. He’s just impatiently biding his time for him to get to Jaded Hollow. Andrew is torn. On one hand, he’s finally found the other half of his soul, while on the other hand, he’s slowly dying inside. Tragedy is on the horizon and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

 

Jase Matthews comes to Jaded Hollow a dead man walking. He knows it’s only a matter of time before they find him. There is no way they’ll let him live. At his first sight of Andrew, he’s instantly drawn to him, but he refuses the connection, knowing his days are numbered. However, it’s not long before he realizes the pull Andrew has on him is something he can’t fight.

 

Can Andrew find the courage to reveal to his loved ones the secret he’s kept for years? Will Jase be the man to help him overcome the grief he feels inside? And what happens when Jase’s past catches up to him and threatens to take away the man Andrew’s waited forever to meet?

 

 

 

 

 

Alex Grayson is originally from the south, but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio, she absolutely loves living in the north. Her and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, son, one dogs, two cats, eight ducks, and three chickens. She hopes to eventually get a couple of goats to add to their country way of living. Besides her family and home, her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind, she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her, she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind. She can be contacted at alexgraysonauthor@gmail.com.

 

 

 

 

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