Title: House of Payne: Tag
Series: House of Payne
Author: Stacy Gail
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Published: September 4, 2018
"I loved Ivy and Tag they had the perfect mixture of sweet and heat I love this series and can't wait for the next one." ~ Danielle
“If you’re looking for a strong alpha guy with a heart, a gutsy girl whose lost her family but still knows how to feel, sprinkled with some heat and a healthy dash of dirty talking, you’ve found your zen.” ~ Christy C.
Mysterious. Anonymous. Genius.
Volatile. Passionate. Brilliant.
Artist Ivy Gemelli is the last of her family. Mother—dead. Father—shot in his cab for fifty bucks. Uncle and brother—murdered in the family’s auto paint shop, which was then burned down to the ground. She’s the last one standing in a never-ending struggle to just freaking survive, and it’s made her tougher than nails. That’s why, when she sees her own art show up in Tag’s designs, she’s more than ready to go to war.
Hot. Powerful. Irresistible.
Tag wasn’t looking for a sexy complication like Ivy, but that’s exactly what he’s got. Her murdered brother’s long-ago lie brought them together, but now that Tag’s got Ivy in his sights, he’s not about to let her go. Ivy is all fire and fury, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep this sex-on-stilettos woman with him, even if he has to keep her in the dark about his past.
***This standalone, hot contemporary romance contains a strong alpha male, mention of the sexual practice of edging, and a spank or two (or three). There are multiple, explicit sex scenes (you have been warned). No cheating, no love triangles, no cliffhangers. HEA guaranteed. This book is not intended for readers under the age of 18***
99,000 words
“Listen up, daddy long legs, I’m not a frickin’ pull toy.” Ivy barely managed to keep up with Tag as he practically ran her up the stairs and into Scout’s office. “And I’m not exactly wearing track shoes, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed.” He closed the door behind them, and it was like turning the world’s sound off. In the silence of the office, she was suddenly, blazingly aware of every last thing about him, from how he leaned casually against the door, to how his eyes watched her like seeing her was his only mission in life. “I notice everything about you. Especially those shoes.”
She blinked before she looked down at her sandals. They gave her an added four inches, something she needed in the face of the masculine tower that was Tag, but even more than that she’d thought they made her legs look dead sexy. But considering his tone, maybe not. “I love these shoes. What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing. I love them too. That’s why I want you to wear them when I fuck you.”
Her gaze jerked up from her feet to crash into his. Holy cow, he was serious. “Uh…”
“Yeah? You wanna say something?”
Valiantly she tried to laugh it off, even as a lick of desire began to raise her temperature. “You don’t mean now, do you? You couldn’t possibly mean now.”
Slowly he started toward her. “We’ve got privacy and a sofa. Or, barring that, we’ve got a nice, big desk right behind you. Then again, a wall or even that rug you’re standing on would work. Come to think of it, we could have a damn orgy in here with all these possibilities.”
Stalking her. Heaven above, the man was stalking her like she was his prey. There had to be something wrong with her to find that exhilarating. “Am I the only one left in this whole wide world who thinks sex should happen in the bedroom?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get to that. Eventually.”
“I noticed.” He closed the door behind them, and it was like turning the world’s sound off. In the silence of the office, she was suddenly, blazingly aware of every last thing about him, from how he leaned casually against the door, to how his eyes watched her like seeing her was his only mission in life. “I notice everything about you. Especially those shoes.”
She blinked before she looked down at her sandals. They gave her an added four inches, something she needed in the face of the masculine tower that was Tag, but even more than that she’d thought they made her legs look dead sexy. But considering his tone, maybe not. “I love these shoes. What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing. I love them too. That’s why I want you to wear them when I fuck you.”
Her gaze jerked up from her feet to crash into his. Holy cow, he was serious. “Uh…”
“Yeah? You wanna say something?”
Valiantly she tried to laugh it off, even as a lick of desire began to raise her temperature. “You don’t mean now, do you? You couldn’t possibly mean now.”
Slowly he started toward her. “We’ve got privacy and a sofa. Or, barring that, we’ve got a nice, big desk right behind you. Then again, a wall or even that rug you’re standing on would work. Come to think of it, we could have a damn orgy in here with all these possibilities.”
Stalking her. Heaven above, the man was stalking her like she was his prey. There had to be something wrong with her to find that exhilarating. “Am I the only one left in this whole wide world who thinks sex should happen in the bedroom?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get to that. Eventually.”
A competitive figure skater from the age of eight, Stacy Gail wrote stories between events to pass the time. By fourteen, she told her parents she was either going to be a skating coach who was also a romance writer, or a romance writer who was also a skating pro. Now with a day job of playing on the ice with her students, and writing everything from PNR and cyberpunk to contemporary romance at night, both dreams have come true.
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