Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(105)

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Thank you





Well, that was something.

If you were blushing while reading Mercy, I promise I was blushing ten times as much writing it. If you were surprised to find your inner Domme, trust me, I was a hundred times more surprised.

Why? Well, you know that lecture Maggie got from her mother with the ripped up piece of paper? That was verbatim the same lecture I got as a young woman (Not from my mother, though. She would never.) I grew up in the same world Maggie did, and I’m willing to bet a lot of you did too. If even one word in this novel helps to change that even a little bit, then it’s worth it.

If the world wants to tell you you should be ashamed of your sexuality, then I will be louder. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

A year ago, I had an idea that I thought was just a good smutty story my readers would love. That idea became four stories, then an entire series, a whole world, a family, a movement.

We deserve better than the world we were born into, and I hope for one second you found an ounce of empowerment from these stories. Thank you so much to everyone who has reached out over the past few months to share your stories. You have no idea how encouraging that is for me.

I didn’t do any of this alone, so I need to thank the amazing team I have by my side.

Amanda Anderson—look at what we did. None of this would have happened without you. Thank you for the support, encouragement, laughs, and friendship. Beau is yours.

Behind every good book is a beautiful team of beta readers. Adrian, Amanda, Brittni, and Claudia.

Tasha, thank you so much for your expertise and tough love. I hope Maggie has made you proud.

My editor, Rebecca’s Fairest Reviews. Your dedication to this series does not go unnoticed. Thank you so much for everything!

My proofreader, Rumi Khan. I’m so blessed to have you on my team.

Lori, the hardest working PA in the business. I love you so much.

Misty—Thank you for joining me on this journey. Your love and support gets me through.

My business bishes—thank you for all of the advice, camaraderie, and friendship.

My Corn Star sisters—Rachel, Tits, Katie, Ashton, Gail, and Lori. The best thing to come from all of this craziness is our friendship.



And last, to my readers. Thank you for breathing life into this world and these characters.

We’re not done. Not even close.

If you’re still in, I’m still in.

And you better fucking believe we’re coming back to Salacious. No way are we done now.

You think I would leave characters like Ronan Kade and Eden St. Claire without a story??





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Three months on a private island.

Two men.

One million dollars.

All I have to do is tame Nash Wilde.



It’s been two years since my sister and her boyfriend were killed in a plane crash. The last person I expected to show up on my doorstep was his father, Alistair Wilde. Yet, he came with an offer I’d be an idiot to pass up: be his son’s girlfriend for three months, live with the two of them in a remote house, and the one million dollars is mine.



The challenge turns out to be harder than I expected. Nash is not just wild, he’s dangerous. And Alistair is far more broken than he lets the world believe. The three of us are bound by grief. It’s up to me to feed Nash’s hunger and heal Alistair’s pain.



Lines are crossed.

Rules are broken.

On the island, there’s no one to tell us this is wrong.



I know I have to choose before I tear this family apart.

But I belong to both of them— One of them has my body.

The other has my heart.



**Fair warning: This is an angsty love triangle romance with explicit sexual content and a guaranteed HEA for readers 18+





Read it now





I ruined his life.

It was my investigation that sent his father to jail. It was my fault his mother killed herself shortly after. I’ve regretted it every day since. When he shows up in my Journalism class, I know I’m in trouble.

Cullen Ayers wants to make me pay.

His torment becomes my life, and I endure every moment because I deserve it. What started as revenge quickly turns into lust. He’s only eighteen, and I should be ashamed of how good this feels when we’re alone, but I can’t help myself. I’m in too deep.