SAVE GRACE, BLOOD LEGION MC 2, READ NOW!
Gritty star-crossed lovers? You have no idea. Welcome to the Crescent City. Beignets, badasses, bikers, and a whole lot of bad juju.
5 Star Reviews
“Save Grace has all the elements I love in an MC story: excitement, crazy MC banter, suspense, intrigue and romance. I highly recommend this sensational heartwarming addition to the series. In fact, if you haven’t started the series, grab up both Cry Mercy and Saving Grace, you won’t regret the phenomenal ride.” ~Goodreads review
“I had high expectations and Rie met those wonderfully. She delivered us a story that will have your emotions running rampant. The atrocities that they have both been through in the past and the present is something that will have rage, sadness, heartbreak, love and hope rising to the surface.
This series is a DO NOT MISS series!!!” ~Wicked Babes Blog Reviews
“Having never read Rie Warren, I didn't know what to expect with the Blood Legions MC but I fell in love. My favorite MCs are the rebels WITH a cause and boy does Killian have a cause! [ . . . ] This book was heartbreakingly beautiful. Killian and Grace have both tragic and triumphant backstories and it made me root for their HEA even more.” ~Goodreads review
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2PrR7Pj
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Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2F0ar1M
𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐁𝐑 ⇒ http://bit.ly/2EZyQVh
I was a Marine. An operative. A hardcore soldier. Something brought me to the Blood Legion MC in New Orleans, and now I’m a biker. Whatever drew me here is bigger than my own baggage, and it isn’t the CIA, or Force-Recon, or anyone else.
There’s a pull. Her name is Grace. She’s missing, possibly because of the MC and our haphazard raid on the White Lair. Grace is my new mission. An op. Nothing more.
Until I finally locate the gorgeous woman who has built an even bigger barricade around herself than I have, and I realize I’ll never be free of her.
I don’t want to be found. Not by anyone. Not anymore. Not after what’s been done to me against my will. As if enslavement at the White Lair wasn’t enough.
It seems I don’t have a choice. I have a new client. He’s dark-browed, big all over, and broody beyond belief. This Killian Slade doesn’t force me. He doesn’t ask me to strip. He pays extra each time and he doesn’t even touch me. When he finds out the truth, he’ll hate me as much as I hate myself. Yet I can’t stop the hot hammering of my pulse where I’d only ever been hurt and used before—there’s a yearning to be with this singular man.
I want to wake up from this nightmare, but the nightmare is just beginning.
Grace started to lift off my lap. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t keep laying all this on you.”
“Whoa there.” Clasping her hand, I tugged her back down.
I framed her face with my palms. “You’re not to feel guilty. And you sure as hell don’t need to worry about me.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m using you.”
“Aw hell. Use me all you want.”
A different gleam misted across her hazel-flecked irises, and I realized whether I’d intended it or not the words had sounded like a sexual invitation.
Within seconds, the atmosphere shifted.
The chemistry changed.
The always-attraction soared to the forefront.
And I wanted to deny how much I wanted her. Now wasn’t the time for this sort of thing.
For fuck’s sake, Grace had come to me for solace.
But she stared at her fingers as they moved from my shoulders to my waist, and my heart clobbered in my chest. My pulse echoed right down to my groin.
She dragged the hem of my shirt up over my abs then reached beneath to swirl fingertips along flexing muscle and through rasping hair.
I grew distinctly hard against her ass, groaning when she wiggled in just the right way so my prominent bulge sandwiched in the cleft of her bottom.
“Shit.” Head craning back, I clamped my hands on the arms of the chair instead of around her hips.
“You said I could use you.” Grace drew her tongue up the straining cords of my throat then bit softly all along my jaw.
“Yeah.” I grunted . . . oh, fuck. “I did, but—”
“Sshh. You talk too much.” By the sound of her voice I knew she wore a teasing smile, because we both knew the truth about me and words.
As her lips trailed to the corner of my mouth, I damn near quaked in my skin.
“This is what I need right now. I need you, Killian. Unless . . .”
You don’t want me?
Her unsaid words hung suspended in the air, and I raised my head to look at her.
“There is no unless. C’mere.”
Our mouths clashed with a soaring urgency, no tender hello about this rampant greed.
Within minutes of tortured kissing and roving hands, the fire already burned too hot.
Christ almighty. We hadn’t fucked since Thanksgiving.
One day with her was never gonna be enough.
I had us up on our feet and half my clothes thrown off before attacking her lips again. Goddamn, but she tasted sweet.
And she sure as hell was no shrinking violet.
A possessive gurgle issued from her throat when she ripped through the tabs on my jeans.
I shoved them and everything else off then tore at her clothing with just as much frustrated impatience.
My hard, hard cock lurched upright, brushing the underside of her belly, and heat goddamn spiked inside me like a fever.
With her bare, and in my rooms, and daylight spearing across the walls and over the floor in sunbursts, I tore my mouth from hers.
I dragged my ravaging hands from her body.
I stepped back, melting into a moment I wanted to hold onto forever.
Standing nude and luscious, Grace became dappled in sunlight falling all over her ripe body.
She reached out for me, but I stepped back again.
“Wait. Don’t move. Please,” I asked in an unfamiliar guttural timbre.
She started to shield her breasts, but I halted her.
“Don’t cover yourself. Don’t hide from me.”
Fearless then—how could she not be when desire stamped all over my body and aimed my rigid cock like a staff to the air—she shook out the glorious black waves of her hair so the thick tresses tumbled down her back and over her shoulders.
Staging closer, I barely coasted the calloused pads of my fingers across her satiny skin. Down her temples so her eyes shuttered briefly closed. Across her plump lips so she breathed in on a gasp.
I only made contact with my hands, murmuring non-words of praise that came from deep within my gut.
Along her neck, where her pulse fluttered just beneath the most silken skin.
Her head became lax, and her neck arched into my touch.
“What are you doing, Killian?” she whispered.
Her breath hitched. Her lashes flickered.
Her moan caught in her throat.
Because being with her, touching her . . . the fact she shared herself with me was an honor I didn’t deserve.
Hell, I was nothing but a used-up leatherneck, a gruff-voiced biker dude.
Catch up with the Blood Legion MC saga, starting with Cry Mercy!
Gritty star-crossed lovers? You have no idea . . .
I thought I knew bad times. The worst times. My dad murdered, the MC that’s rightfully mine ripped apart by corrupt rule. I didn’t know anything about true horror until I met a Tennessean girl named Mercy.
Angel and Mercy, frigging ironic, right? You don’t know the half of it. Blood Legion MC is my legacy, and revenge against me is Mercy’s. If you’re looking for gritty star-crossed lovers in the Crescent City, you’ve found it. Because there’s a damn good chance one of us won’t make it out of here alive.
I’m at the mercy of my menfolk. Mercy . . . ironic, isn’t it? Because my cousin and my uncle show no mercy to me, despite my name. I’m used against my will. I’m beaten and worse when I don’t behave. I have no freedom, only one friend, and no chance of escape even though New Orleans is so vibrant I feel like I could touch the colors.
I fled the compound for just one night. I shouldn’t have. I met a biker called Angel--Angel. He’s blond as a seraph, but big and tall and full of sweet talk I’ve never heard before. Except he’s my family’s enemy.
Angel can’t be my only hope because my kin have vowed to take out him and the rest of the Blood Legion MC in one big Tenn-tucky blaze of glory.
BLOOD LEGION MC:
As always, happy sexy reading to you,