Showing posts with label Sloan Storm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sloan Storm. Show all posts

Friday, June 26, 2020

Crude




Title: Crude
Series: Big Texas Billionaires #1
Author: Sloan Storm
Genre: Contemporary New Adult Romance
Release Date: June 26, 2020



Blurb

Hunky oil billionaire Colt Kincade demands I sell him my ranch. But I refuse, and he's not happy about it.
Pfft. Whatever. Mr. Tall, Dark and Country thinks he can get whatever he wants, huh?
Well, I'm not some social-climbing, gold-digging, moon-eyed-orbiter lusting after him just because he's hotter than a two-dollar pistol. He may have tongues wagging all across the Lone Star state, but his charms won't work on me.
I hate everything about him - his tantalizing Texas drawl, his swaggering God's gift attitude, his soul-searing, come-and-get-it-girls stare.
And no. I don't care that he loves dogs, his momma or his daddy's dusty old pickup.
He's trouble. Trouble I do not need. Besides, I've got problems of my own.
Broke? Yep.
Single? Sadly.
Desperate? Getting there.
The truth is, I'm running out of time, out of options, and out of hope.
I need the money he's offering.
But even worse, my heart thinks it needs Colt, too.





Purchase Links

$2.99 for a limited time!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited





Excerpt

I’m not sure what was harder.

Slipping and sliding all over the place from that damn hot yoga or trying to keep my cock from tying in a knot. I had a vague idea of what I expected her to look like…

And it sure as hell wasn’t this.

I went there with one thing in mind… completing my mission and closing the deal.

But, after watching her curvy figure prowl around the classroom for an hour, drilling of a different sort was on my mind. However, despite her earlier behavior, or maybe because of it, Jessie kept it professional, stopping by once or twice to correct my form.

Did that matter to me, though?

Hell no.

Wherever her tiny hands touched, my skin lit up like red-hot charcoal.

After class ended, I hung around, sipping on some cold water and toweling off. Shit, sweat poured from places I didn’t know it could. No idea how people made a regular habit of this insanity.

That room was hotter than all git out.

She chatted with one of the folks in the class, I polished off my drink and headed her direction. Thing is, I had to be careful. Sending the wrong message would get me in a heap of trouble and no closer to the actual reason I’d come there.

I closed in on her, our eyes met.

What a damn angel.

Lucky for me she didn’t bear any resemblance to ole Clint. Poor bastard was so ugly his momma had to tie a pork chop around his neck so the dogs would play with him.

No, she got her looks from her mother.

Especially those eyes - big and blue and bright - like nothing I’d ever seen.

Jessie tucked a wisp of loose hair behind her ear.

“I was pretty impressed with you,” she said before finishing her dig with a cute little wink. “Not bad. Usually big guys like yourself quit the first time around. They never come back after that.”

I enjoyed her teasing.

How couldn’t I?

“That a fact? What makes you think this is my first time?”

Jessie shot me a liar’s look, wrapping her fingers around her hips.

“Fair enough.” Held up my hands, showed her my palms. “I guess you could say this is my first yoga rodeo.”

So, my initial plan was to just get it over with, explain what I was doing there, see how she reacted. But, the longer we talked, the more impossible I realized that would be. Bullets were already flying, ricocheting on the battlefield, and I needed a new strategy.

After all, I’d have to reveal everything to her.

No way in hell that would work.

Think about it…

Somehow a random stranger knew everything about her life, including her adoption. Also, I knew her birth father, was a friend of his. If that wasn’t enough to have her kicking me out the front door, she was the heir to a ranch I needed in the worst way.

Course I was under the gun to get the damn deal done before Tucker tracked her down. My gut told me there had to be another way to make it happen, but my brain hadn’t bothered to provide me any details. Getting an eyeful of that tight, lean body of hers though, I knew one thing for sure.

That dog wouldn’t hunt.

This wasn’t the time or place to be in deal-making mode.

“So,” she began, snapping me out of my strategizing. “Are you from out of town? Here on business?”

 “No, Dallas born and bred.”

“Uh huh.” Jessie deadpanned. “Hmm, why do I feel like you don’t belong in a yoga studio?”

“Because I don’t. Said so yourself.”

“Well, do you think you’ll come back? Hot yoga isn’t the easiest class for a beginner. We have other options.”

“Do you teach any of those options?”

“No. I only teach the advanced classes.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take my chances then. Hope I don’t turn myself into a pretzel in the meantime.”

She chirped a melodic laugh - the type a man never tires of hearing. It was like the first bird you hear when Spring’s sprung at last. When she finished, Jessie drew her hands together at her waiflike waist, smiling so bright, I swore I saw it twinkle.

“Well, it was nice meeting you. I’ve got one more class to teach, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for it.”

“Pleasure,” I replied, stepping to one side and letting her pass.

When she walked off, my body caught fire. Barely an hour in her presence and that little woman stirred sensations inside of me that’d been dormant for a long damn time. She turned and looked at me over her shoulder, catching me in the act.

Didn’t matter. I wasn’t ashamed of anything.

I stared right back at her, letting her know there’d be more sweat in our future and not a yoga mat in sight.

After she left though, I blew out a long breath.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say her beauty and gentle spirit hypnotized me, but it was awful close. That little dove was a far cry from the viper pit of the social scene around Dallas. Over the years, I’d seen some women do crazy shit to remain in my orbit.

But Jessie?

She didn’t know a thing about me.

She was just… herself.

No pretending. No gold-digging. No horseshit games.

“Hmm,” I muttered, wiping my brow with the towel. “This is gonna be a problem.”

A serious problem.

Damn it to hell, Colt.



Author Bio


Sloan Storm pens imaginative yarns based on dominant men and the women who challenge them. As such, power plays and passion are the heart of each and every story.

The writer's creative tendencies may drift as the mood strikes, but the essence of all tales told wind up back at the same place... the polarizing difference between the sexes.

After all, what else is there in life?

When not glued to a keyboard creating tales of whimsy, Sloan loves to talk to fans! If you want to connect, you can do it in any number of ways.


Author Links

Friday, May 15, 2020

His Baby, Her Billionaire




Title: His Baby, Her Billionaire
Series: Her Billionaire #1
Author: Sloan Storm
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: May 15, 2020



Blurb

He has billions of secrets. Me? I only have one, my baby bump, and it's starting to show.

Dalton "The Destroyer" Maxwell.

That's what they call him.

He's the sexy older man, the distinguished battle-hardened SEAL turned brooding, introspective professor. There isn’t a red-blooded female in five hundred miles that wouldn’t kill to trade places with me.

It was only a fling - just a chance encounter in a faraway place. I wasn't looking for a fairy tale ending beneath those starry skies.

But what should've stayed a memory didn't. It chased me home, leading me right where it shouldn't - his arms.

Now the consequence has me feeling like I'm cramming for an exam that I'll never pass.

The truth is, everything about us is forbidden. Nothing good can come of it.

There's only one problem. Dalton disagrees and won't take "no" for an answer.

When he promises he'll give it all up for me and his baby, that's when his ten-figure truth leaves me with an impossible choice.

What have I done?







Purchase Links

$2.99 for a limited time!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited






Excerpt

She turned her head but didn’t speak as her blonde hair fluttered in the gentle breeze of the oceanfront spray. I was close enough to catch her scent. A faint hint of lilac and sweet jasmine blended with the surf-churned air, capturing my focus and pulling me closer to the source.

I knew she heard me.

I also knew what she was probably thinking.

Couldn’t stay away huh?

Subtlety isn’t a strength of mine, on the battlefield or in the war of love.

In my hands, an arsenal of alcohol, one bottle I’d half-emptied, guzzling it down on the stroll. I hit the beer again, taking a quick pull and attempting to draw her out of her guarded silence.

“Guess that’s a no.”

It’s not like I gave a damn about the game. I doubted she did either. Then, she turned and my jaw clenched.

Easy.

Easy.

Only it fucking wouldn’t be.

The chick was an absolute knockout. She’d be right at the top of any man’s trophy shelf. And if my plan panned out, I’d be adding her to my collection long before the sun crested over the distant capri-blue swells.

Maybe it was those early years, being shipped off to military school like a dog chained up in the yard after it’d pissed the floor one too many times. Whatever the cause, the effect had a way of heightening my interest in the fairer sex long before it otherwise might have.

Point is, for as long as I could remember, only the most beautiful of women were worth the pursuit. After all, you only live once. Tales from the rocking chair are always better when you landed the big fish, not when it disappeared back to the murky depths.

Even so, I never breathed a word of my conquests over the years.

Outside the small circle of my SEAL brothers, my appetites were strictly confidential. Sometimes I wondered if my blue-blooded parents thought I might not even be straight but instead playing for the same team like my sister, Shelley.

But whatever, fuck them.

I thought for certain I’d bedded the best, had more than my fair share of beauties from one far flung part of the planet to the other.

That is, until now.

My breathing slowed. I blinked even slower and tightened my grip on the bottlenecks so hard, it felt like they might crackle into shards between my fingers.

Sunlight flared in the depths of her hazel green eyes. Lightly tanned skin and high cheekbones drew my gaze toward a set of supple, silk-smooth lips. She didn’t bother trying to contain the renegade, wind-whipped strands of her mane as they lashed about, tickling her sun-kissed complexion.

Instead of giving me the results of the game, she fixed a little smirk on her lips and came right back at me.

“Guess.”

That was all the opening I needed. I took a step her direction, the sea-dampened sand giving way under my feet.

“Better luck next time.” I lifted the bottle. “How ‘bout a consolation prize?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Thanks, but no. I’m not much of a beer drinker.”

The condensation on the neck dripped from my fingertips as I offered her the bottle once more.

“No strings.” I wiggled it. “Why waste this beautiful sunset sober?”

Just then, a wave hammered the shoreline behind her, surf thundering as it roared our direction. It was on us in no time, swirling around our legs and tugging at them like a deep sea vacuum. A shriek escaped from her lips. It didn’t sound like fear though, more like a melodic blend of whimsy and surprise.

She hadn’t meant to do it.

Or maybe she had.

I steadied myself, flexing my legs and core while she clung to me. But almost as soon as it came, the rushing current receded, leaving only her fear-filled fingers clutched tight around my biceps.

“Sorry.” She sputtered out a reedy breath and snatched her hands away, forming two white-knuckled fists.

The doe-eyed beauty stood there frozen stiff, in a defensive position with her hands partially blocking her tits. I imagined those same delicate fingers curled into the meat of my hips while I claimed her wet silk, taking her under the stars in a secluded seaside hidey hole.



Author Bio


Sloan Storm pens imaginative yarns based on dominant men and the women who challenge them. As such, power plays and passion are the heart of each and every story.

The writer's creative tendencies may drift as the mood strikes, but the essence of all tales told wind up back at the same place... the polarizing difference between the sexes.

After all, what else is there in life?

When not glued to a keyboard creating tales of whimsy, Sloan loves to talk to fans! If you want to connect, you can do it in any number of ways.


Author Links

Friday, April 26, 2019

His Little Wife Lie




Title: His Little Wife Lie
Author: Sloan Storm
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 26, 2019



Blurb

IT'S NOT A LIE IF WE BELIEVE IT'S TRUE.

That's what Griff Foster said right after he asked me to be his wife.
Sweet, isn't he?

Let's be real: his proposal had nothing to do with romance. Falling in love isn't in his DNA. With piercing blue eyes and a hard body to match, he goes through women like candy.

But he saved my life.

I promised I'd repay him. I should learn when to keep my mouth shut.
Griff needs a Mrs. Right Now, and he's convinced I'm the perfect actress.

In case I have any doubts, there are seven badly needed zeroes on a check with my name on it to help make up my mind.

Ugh.

We're totally fake. Nothing but lies.
Except the way his lips feel on mine.
Except the way his touch sets my body ablaze.
Except the way my soul aches when he looks into my eyes.

He says that without me, he loses everything.
But if I've got the upper hand, why does it feel like he's in control?

There's only one thing missing from this arrangement.
What happens to my heart when it's over?







Purchase Links

99c for a VERY limited time!!

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

Free in Kindle Unlimited





Excerpt

That was it!

What kind of fucking game was he trying to play? I made a complete fool out of myself, then he tried to turn it around on me! No one was going to treat me like this, especially not him.

Once in my room, I raced toward the closet, grabbed my bag, and dragged it out. Fuck this place!

Tiny Me chimed in. No, no! Wait! What are you doing? The money!

"I don't care about the money!" I yelped, clutching my fingers into fists. "Don't you understand? I care about him!" Oh shit. No. No.

I sensed a presence in the doorway. "What did you say?"

"Stay away from me." I spun in place, biting my lip and sputtering hate. "I'm leaving. You can't stop me."

He didn't listen. Of course. I mean, why start now?

Marching right toward me, Griff continued, "You said you cared about me. Don't try and deny it."

Yeah, no kidding. You ass. "Of course, I do! Jesus! Do you know how many men I've offered my virginity to? Do you? Take a wild guess."

Griff didn't respond. What could he say? He already knew the answer.

I poked him in the chest. "Just one. Guess how that went over?"

Griff's nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. I was pissing him off. Well. Good! Now he knew how I felt!

"Move," I snarled, edging past him.

I felt the handle of my suitcase rip free from my hand. By the time I turned to look and see what happened, he'd swept me up me in his arms, racing for the bed.

No!

"Put me down!" I floated in his embrace until he slammed me with a thump, pinning me beneath him. Struggle was useless, but I gave it everything I had, jerking from side-to-side until the instant his lips found mine.

Oh fuck. No! Yes. Yes. Yeeessss…

The passion from his kiss ripped through my body like wildfire, reigniting the embers he left smoldering inside of me with his refusal. Griff's pelvis pressed into me, the impossible hardness between his legs threatened to reawaken my lust into an inferno until my wits returned.

"Stop!" I gasped, breaking my mouth free. My palms went flat, shoving against his torso. "Get off of me!"

His gaze gave me the answer. Never. Griff ignored my pleas and gripped harder, making me feel he'd crush me into dust if I uttered another word. Reaching up, I clawed and scratched, digging my nails into the steel of his thick chest. But my rage only stoked him, and he groaned, his mouth invading mine again, filling it with his tongue. My resistance turned to vapor, whisps of hate floating away from me while Griff took what he wanted.

At last, he pulled away. I looked at him, my vision glassy from the struggle, each of us fighting for a breath.

"We can't." I exhaled. "It's a mistake."

Wait. That wasn't no. Was it?

He licked his lips and sank his pelvis deeper, driving it hard between my legs. I stifled a whimper.

"You're right," he hummed, reaching for one of my tits, cupping it in his grasp. Uhhh. My eyes rolled back in my head, his touch had me on the verge of blackout.

"It's the biggest mistake of all," he warned. "No turning back. No way out."

No way out. His words reached into my soul, giving me the answer my brain couldn't. I don't want one. Don't give me one. If you do, I might take it.

Wordless, Griff moved over me, a shadow threatening the last shreds of my chastity. With my legs spread and my innocence at risk, I inched my mouth toward his lips when he whispered his final threat.

"At last."



Author Bio


Sloan Storm pens imaginative yarns based on dominant men and the women who challenge them. As such, power plays and passion are the heart of each and every story.

The writer's creative tendencies may drift as the mood strikes, but the essence of all tales told wind up back at the same place... the polarizing difference between the sexes.

After all, what else is there in life?

When not glued to a keyboard creating tales of whimsy, Sloan loves to talk to fans! If you want to connect, you can do it in any number of ways.


Author Links

Monday, April 22, 2019

His Little Wife Lie




Title: His Little Wife Lie
Author: Sloan Storm
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Cover Design: Coverlüv
Release Date: April 26, 2019



Blurb

IT'S NOT A LIE IF WE BELIEVE IT'S TRUE.

That's what Griff Foster said right after he asked me to be his wife.
Sweet, isn't he?

Let's be real: his proposal had nothing to do with romance. Falling in love isn't in his DNA. With piercing blue eyes and a hard body to match, he goes through women like candy.

But he saved my life.

I promised I'd repay him. I should learn when to keep my mouth shut.
Griff needs a Mrs. Right Now, and he's convinced I'm the perfect actress.

In case I have any doubts, there are seven badly needed zeroes on a check with my name on it to help make up my mind.

Ugh.

We're totally fake. Nothing but lies.
Except the way his lips feel on mine.
Except the way his touch sets my body ablaze.
Except the way my soul aches when he looks into my eyes.

He says that without me, he loses everything.
But if I've got the upper hand, why does it feel like he's in control?

There's only one thing missing from this arrangement.
What happens to my heart when it's over?






Excerpt

That was it!

What kind of fucking game was he trying to play? I made a complete fool out of myself, then he tried to turn it around on me! No one was going to treat me like this, especially not him.

Once in my room, I raced toward the closet, grabbed my bag, and dragged it out. Fuck this place!

Tiny Me chimed in. No, no! Wait! What are you doing? The money!

"I don't care about the money!" I yelped, clutching my fingers into fists. "Don't you understand? I care about him!" Oh shit. No. No.

I sensed a presence in the doorway. "What did you say?"

"Stay away from me." I spun in place, biting my lip and sputtering hate. "I'm leaving. You can't stop me."

He didn't listen. Of course. I mean, why start now?

Marching right toward me, Griff continued, "You said you cared about me. Don't try and deny it."

Yeah, no kidding. You ass. "Of course, I do! Jesus! Do you know how many men I've offered my virginity to? Do you? Take a wild guess."

Griff didn't respond. What could he say? He already knew the answer.

I poked him in the chest. "Just one. Guess how that went over?"

Griff's nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. I was pissing him off. Well. Good! Now he knew how I felt!

"Move," I snarled, edging past him.

I felt the handle of my suitcase rip free from my hand. By the time I turned to look and see what happened, he'd swept me up me in his arms, racing for the bed.

No!

"Put me down!" I floated in his embrace until he slammed me with a thump, pinning me beneath him. Struggle was useless, but I gave it everything I had, jerking from side-to-side until the instant his lips found mine.

Oh fuck. No! Yes. Yes. Yeeessss…

The passion from his kiss ripped through my body like wildfire, reigniting the embers he left smoldering inside of me with his refusal. Griff's pelvis pressed into me, the impossible hardness between his legs threatened to reawaken my lust into an inferno until my wits returned.

"Stop!" I gasped, breaking my mouth free. My palms went flat, shoving against his torso. "Get off of me!"

His gaze gave me the answer. Never. Griff ignored my pleas and gripped harder, making me feel he'd crush me into dust if I uttered another word. Reaching up, I clawed and scratched, digging my nails into the steel of his thick chest. But my rage only stoked him, and he groaned, his mouth invading mine again, filling it with his tongue. My resistance turned to vapor, whisps of hate floating away from me while Griff took what he wanted.

At last, he pulled away. I looked at him, my vision glassy from the struggle, each of us fighting for a breath.

"We can't." I exhaled. "It's a mistake."

Wait. That wasn't no. Was it?

He licked his lips and sank his pelvis deeper, driving it hard between my legs. I stifled a whimper.

"You're right," he hummed, reaching for one of my tits, cupping it in his grasp. Uhhh. My eyes rolled back in my head, his touch had me on the verge of blackout.

"It's the biggest mistake of all," he warned. "No turning back. No way out."

No way out. His words reached into my soul, giving me the answer my brain couldn't. I don't want one. Don't give me one. If you do, I might take it.

Wordless, Griff moved over me, a shadow threatening the last shreds of my chastity. With my legs spread and my innocence at risk, I inched my mouth toward his lips when he whispered his final threat.

"At last."



Author Bio


Sloan Storm pens imaginative yarns based on dominant men and the women who challenge them. As such, power plays and passion are the heart of each and every story.

The writer's creative tendencies may drift as the mood strikes, but the essence of all tales told wind up back at the same place... the polarizing difference between the sexes.

After all, what else is there in life?

When not glued to a keyboard creating tales of whimsy, Sloan loves to talk to fans! If you want to connect, you can do it in any number of ways.


Author Links