(Salvation’s Bane MC, #9)
Published by: Changeling Press
Publication date: August 27th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
I should send her far away from me. But one kiss and I know she’s mine. I’ll kill to protect her.
Rosanna: Salvation’s Bane’s been good to me — more of a family than I’ve ever had before. And I want that. But I’m not a kid any more, and I know what I want. Red. I need him to see me as more than just another mechanic. No matter how good I am, working beside the man is never going to be enough. I’m going to break him down. Get under his skin, until he realizes I’m a grown ass woman, and I know my mind. And if that bitch of an ex wife of his doesn’t leave us alone, she’s the next thing I’m gonna break.
Red: I’m headed for a special hell. Rosanna knows her way around cars, I’ll give her that, and she looks sexy as hell with a wrench in her hands and a spot of grease on her nose, but she’s just a kid. I know she’s got a past she can’t or won’t talk about, and she may think she’s all grown up, but she’s younger than my son, Anthony. Pretty sure that makes me some kind of a pervert. And now that Anthony’s the assistant DA, he’s got a bee up his ass to take me down. Be damned if I’ll let him take Rosanna with me. I should send her far away from me and this life, but one kiss is all it takes to pull me under. I could no more give her up than I could give up the air that I breathe. I’d kill to protect her. And from the looks of things, I may have to.
“Get the lead out, boys,” Red gruffed to the dozen or so men in the garage he owned. “We got less than forty-eight hours to deliver these two cars and I still need to go over them to make sure you fucks didn’t miss anything.”
“Go to hell, Red!”
“Like we ever miss anything, you motherfucker!”
One guy just flipped him the bird without looking up from under the hood of the car he was working on.
“Lazy as you fuckers are, if I let it slide once, you’ll fuck me over the next time and it’s my ass in trouble with Thorn.” Red tried not to grin, but it was hard. He worked with good men and loved every one of them like a son. At least, he loved them like he wanted to love his own son. That ship had sailed, though.
“I can help if you need me.”
The groan came before Red could repress it. “No,” was all he said.
“Said no, girl. Now get on with you.”
Her name was Rosanna Creamer, and the image her name presented just… stuck. Because, seriously, he could envision her creaming on his cock for hours and hours. Every day. Forever. She was also so young any thoughts he had about her were probably illegal. If not, they should be. He was forty-eight years old. Rosanna said she was twenty-three, but he had his doubts.
The disappointed look on her face got to him every time. He wanted to call her back and give her a job to do, but if he did, the kid would walk all over him.
“Fine. But I’m ten times better than any of those fuckers,” she muttered.
“No swearing.” He said it automatically, like he might scold a naughty child. The second he did, he winced.
“Fucking fine, motherfucker,” she shot back. There was venom in her voice, but Red didn’t mind. His head whipped around almost of its own accord to watch her stomp away. Because, really, she had an ass to make angels weep. When she hit this level of angry, she always flounced off with that little ass jiggling like his hand might make it jiggle if he’d smacked it. Sure enough… yeah. There she went. And just like that, his cock was at full attention.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“And don’t think I don’t know you’re looking at my ass,” she shot back over her shoulder. Then, just to torment him, she flashed him a cocky grin and bent over at the waist to pick up a wrench from the garage floor where some dumb fuck had left it.
He turned away from her. Had to. Otherwise, he’d have her bent over the hood of the GTO she was working on.
Romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of. Now, she breathes life into faeries, space hunters, werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, and a few just plane ole ordinary people. She loves to see the awkward, self-conscious band geek get the captain of the football team and make him beg for it.
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