Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(108)
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Tyed
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Blood to Dust
Defy
Vicious
Ruckus
Scandalous
Midnight Blue
The End Zone
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Pretty Reckless (All Saints High)
As I write more books, my tribe continues to grow, and I find myself continuously and irrevocably humbled by the great talent in the indie community, a community that I am so grateful to take part of.
Firstly, I would like to thank my beta readers: Tijuana, Amy, Lana, Helena, and Paige. You’ve been my rock throughout this process, and I know how difficult it must have been to hear me obsess over a certain sentence or wording at three in the morning. Over. And over. Again.
To my editors, Tamara Mataya and Paige Maroney Smith. Thank you so much for your feedback, attention to detail, and overall awesomeness. To my wiz graphic designer, Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs, and to my amazing formatter, Stacey Blake at Champagne Formatting.
A huge thank you to my rock star agent Kimberly Brower at Brower Literary and to Jenn Watson at Social Butterfly PR.
Special thank you to my kick-ass street team. There is no one else like you. Blissfully unique and incredibly valued: Lin, Hayfaah, Sher, Kristina, Brittany, Julia, Summer, Vickie, Sheena, Sarah, Becca, Jacquie, Betty, Amanda, Erika, Leeann, Luciana, the two Vanessas (Villegas and Serrano), Tanaka, Avivit, and Galit. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
To the Sassy Sparrows, for being my safe place when I’m in need of a break from my crazy characters. And to the bloggers who push so hard and work even harder to make sure we indies have a voice. You’re the best, and I love you.
Finally, to my readers, who never fail to stun me with your support. I will never take it for granted and will always try to give you magic. You deserve nothing less.
All the love,
L.J. Shen xoxo
Enjoyed Bane? Try The Ruthless Gentleman by Louise Bay, out on May 10th:
The Ruthless Gentleman
Louise Bay
Avery
Another day, another blue sky, another superyacht. As I reached the main deck of the Athena, carrying a glass of champagne and a glass of orange juice, I glanced across at the Saint Tropez marina in the distance and took a deep breath to calm myself. I was usually well rested for the first charter of the season, and May was usually a beautiful month in the Med, but I still carried the exhaustion of the previous season with me. On top of fatigue, the lack of information that we’d been given about the first eight-week charter meant I was unprepared for this guest and it made me more than nervous.
We arranged ourselves into the welcome line. Captain Moss first, me next to him, Eric the bosun, then Chef Neill and the rest of the crew, excluding the engineers who disappeared back to the engine room rather than meet our guest.
The tinny sound of the tender grew louder from behind us, and from the corner of my eye I caught my stewardess, August, craning her neck to look. “Eyes forward,” I said. I hated riding my crew’s ass. Some of the chief stewardesses I’d worked under enjoyed wielding their power, but that wasn’t me. I just wanted the job done, the guests delighted and the tips huge.
The sound of footsteps headed up the stairs toward us. I plastered on a smile, careful to keep the tray I was holding steady.
As our guest appeared, I drew in a breath. He was young—around thirty, no more than thirty-five—and handsome with dark brown hair and wide shoulders. This guy wasn’t anything like the normal charter guest. But then this was nothing like a normal charter. He was tall—well over six feet. Sharp cheekbones framed his face and led down to a perfectly smooth, square jaw. His eyes were dark and serious. If his nose hadn’t been a little crooked, as if it had been broken at some point in his past, I might have even described him as pretty, but the unevenness tipped him toward handsome. It suggested there was a little rough beneath the oh-so-smooth.
I swallowed. I’d never found a guest attractive before. Not even a little bit. But then again, we never had charter guests who looked like this guy. When I first got into yachting, I’d expected to be surrounded by rich, beautiful people all the time. And while there was plenty of wealth, the attractive guests tended to be women. Although I was pretty flexible about a lot of stuff, I was strictly dickly when it came to my fantasies.
He strode toward Captain Moss and they shook hands. “Good to meet you,” the man said in a deep, gravelly voice that seemed to make my whole body vibrate.
“Good to have you on board,” Captain Moss replied.
“I’m Hayden Wolf,” he said, turning to pin me with a stare so intense it was as if he were getting some sort of psychic reading. “Avery, right?”
How did he know my name? Maybe the background check had given him a photograph. And the way he said it—my name shouldn’t sound that different in a British accent, but the way he enunciated every syllable, coupled with the deep timbre, somehow made it sound important. “Yes, sir,” I replied.
He nodded and smiled. My nipples tightened. Fuck. Thank God I was wearing a t-shirt bra.