Stone, At Your Service by Rie Warren
Book 1: Carolina Bad Boys Series
Publisher: Independent Self Publishing
Publication Date: September 25, 2014
Format: Kindle - 446 KB
ASIN: B00MRPKWAY
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
BUY THE BOOK: Stone, At Your Service
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Book Description:
Bad boy mechanic Josh Stone likes to get his hands dirty any way he can—the filthier, the better. Ever since his wife walked out on him and their young son, he’s only had room in his heart for two loves: the kid and cars.
Roped into playing his best buddy’s gay boyfriend during a romance writers convention, the player meets the girl who’s gonna rock his world. Leelee Songchild. Shy, bashful, beautiful Leelee who blushes at the drop of a hat yet writes hardcore smut to rival Josh’s backlist of Penthouse Forum.
The only problem is his hands are tied. Josh can’t stab his old friend/fake lover in the back even though all he wants to do is take luscious Leelee to bed, and maybe, love her. When the truth comes out, all hell breaks loose. Too bad romance is just for books.
WARNING: Uncompromisingly hot sex, hilarious hijinks, and heartfelt romance — Stone is a triple threat.
Book Excerpt:
Ramada’s valet parking sucked balls and cost a mint. The hotel was lit up like a fairytale palace—or a whorehouse, depending how you looked at it--with people coming and going. It was busier than Stone's before a holiday weekend, when everyone in the tri-counties seemed to get a flat tire. Bellhops wearing pained grins pushed wheeled-carts toppling over with boxes from the convention attendees through the carousel doors.
I wielded our cart into the lobby, following Nicky as he strolled up to the check-in desk. His demeanor changed the second we walked through the doors. Gone was the scrappy South Cackalackee bruiser who knew how to take a hit and knock a fucker to the ground. He rolled up the sleeves on his oxford twice, neatened his hair back into a slick knot, and greeted people with effortless charm.
While we stood in line and he made small talk here and there, a commotion at the back of the queue drew my attention. A gal wrangled with her cart and then watched—eyes and mouth open wide—as four boxes crashed to the floor. Books, dresses, shoes, wigs . . . lingerie swam onto the polished marble floor.
I noticed her cock-up with the cart first.
Her legs second.
Her tits third.
Her face last.
Holy fuck.
“Who the hell is that?” I whispered, pointing at the babe surrounded by ten tons of shit spilling all over the floor.
Nicky glanced over my shoulder. “No idea. New kid on the block, I guess.”
“I’m gonna go help her.” I shouldered through the crowd and squatted down before her. “Need a hand?” Because one thing Ma had taught me was always help out a woman in need.
She blew a tendril of the lightest red hair from her brow. “I’d sure appreciate it.”
And I was a goner.
I packed her stuff back up under her guidance and stacked it smartly onto the cart, willing myself not to look at her as I stepped back. Definitely not remembering the lace, the frills, the full-on feminine lingerie I’d handled.
“My knight in shinin’ armor?”
Shaking my head, I backed away. I saw Nicky at the elevators, waiting for me. “Not really, miss.”
I wielded our cart into the lobby, following Nicky as he strolled up to the check-in desk. His demeanor changed the second we walked through the doors. Gone was the scrappy South Cackalackee bruiser who knew how to take a hit and knock a fucker to the ground. He rolled up the sleeves on his oxford twice, neatened his hair back into a slick knot, and greeted people with effortless charm.
While we stood in line and he made small talk here and there, a commotion at the back of the queue drew my attention. A gal wrangled with her cart and then watched—eyes and mouth open wide—as four boxes crashed to the floor. Books, dresses, shoes, wigs . . . lingerie swam onto the polished marble floor.
I noticed her cock-up with the cart first.
Her legs second.
Her tits third.
Her face last.
Holy fuck.
“Who the hell is that?” I whispered, pointing at the babe surrounded by ten tons of shit spilling all over the floor.
Nicky glanced over my shoulder. “No idea. New kid on the block, I guess.”
“I’m gonna go help her.” I shouldered through the crowd and squatted down before her. “Need a hand?” Because one thing Ma had taught me was always help out a woman in need.
She blew a tendril of the lightest red hair from her brow. “I’d sure appreciate it.”
And I was a goner.
I packed her stuff back up under her guidance and stacked it smartly onto the cart, willing myself not to look at her as I stepped back. Definitely not remembering the lace, the frills, the full-on feminine lingerie I’d handled.
“My knight in shinin’ armor?”
Shaking my head, I backed away. I saw Nicky at the elevators, waiting for me. “Not really, miss.”
About The Author
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website http://www.riewarren.com/. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html
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