Royce Kennedy believes he has the town of Rusty Knob and its citizens in the palm of his hand. For altruistic reasons, of course. A real man takes care of his land and the people on it, whether they want to accept the help or not.
After fostering an orphan, adopting underprivileged kids, creating businesses to bring jobs back to the area, donating his time, energy, and money by founding the Community Growth: Life Skills Center, people are beginning to wonder if the man is running a campaign to earn the status of a saint.
Royce’s family is getting frustrated by idly watching their patriarch spread himself too thin, because he won’t allow them to shoulder his burdens or their own. Drastic measures are taken before the man can see reason. When the dust finally settles, Royce realizes he’s been taking care of everyone but himself.
But there’s a problem with sorting out your issues, with the clarity of mind, you can’t hide from the good, bad, and downright filthy secrets buried in the depths of your past.
With dark, violent, depraved skeletons, Rusty Knob’s patriarch isn’t as pure of soul as he appears to be. Will he finally surrender and accept the help to buff the tarnish away?
Just because it’s the moral thing to do, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for you.
Book 2
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
Blue eyes wide and wild, I can practically hear Willa’s blood rushing through her body, eclipsing the sound of my own.
Time has reached a standstill. We lick our lips in mirrored unison, and it’s almost laughable. Holding our breath…
There’s no going back.
We collide like two forceful storm clouds creating a thunderhead, with violence and darkness, and bright flashes of angry electricity that will raze the land to the ground. But when the fire dies out, the land will be reborn.
Attacking me with ferocity, Willa tears my t-shirt from my back, fingernails scoring my skin with the painful bite of passion. There’s no denying we both want this more for ourselves than to get Donny out of trouble.
Gasping for air, I grip Willa’s hands before she can remove that white dress. “No, I want this on you,” rasps from my throat in a voice I don’t recognize. “This goddamned dress is a fantasy I didn’t know I even had.”
Naughty, Willa’s lips curl into a smirk, like she caught on to that fact before I did. “Depraved,” I drawl, leaning forward.
Wrapping my palm around the nape of Willa’s neck, my fingers trailing around her throat, I yank her lips to mine. Mouths open, tongues fighting, I kiss her like I’ve kissed no other, cementing how she’s just as much mine as I’m now hers.
“Now,” Willa gasps against my lips, breath shuddering. “I can’t wait any longer. I can’t.” With force, she shoves against my shoulders, pressing my back against the couch. Lifting up onto her knees, Willa shuffles backward on my thighs. Her fingers attack my jeans, tugging and tearing at my button and zipper.
Blown away, all I can do is sit back and watch in awe as Willa takes exactly what she wants from me. Releasing a sadistic chuckle, she reaches into my pants to free my cock. With a grunt, my hips buck off the cushion when her fingers wrap around my flesh and yank violently.
“Good God, woman! Don’t unman me,” I warn, shoving at my jeans until they’re past my ass and to my knees. “Your hungry kitty can wait until I get my dick out.”
“Fuck too, it can,” flows in a throaty demand as I’m shoved firmly against the back of the couch. I’ll surely have palm-shaped bruises to my shoulders come tomorrow morning. Hitching her leg, Willa reaches down to grip my cock and stand it upright. My eyes glue to the vision of her hand wrapped around my length. Sitting down hard, we both grunt in shock as her body swallows mine– ass meeting thighs.
Back arched, neck straining, fingertips clutching the cushion, my mind can’t absorb all the stimuli. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside a woman, and it was never this hot and tight. Offering me no comfort, Willa yanks my hair roughly to force my eyes open.
Demanding I maintain direct eye contact, a tiny palm clutches the front of my throat, fingernails digging into my flesh. Partially choking me, Willa uses my neck as leverage to roll her hips in a wave, riding me as promised.
My eyes venture downward, taking in how glossy my cock looks as Willa flows up and down my length. Disappearing and reappearing, I feel disconnected from my own dick, like this can’t be happening but it’s the wildest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.
Also Available in the Rusty Knob Series
Book 1
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
Erica Chilson does not write in the 3rd person, wanting her readers to be her characters. Therefore, writing a bio about herself, is uncomfortable in the extreme.
Born, raised, and here to stay, the Wicked Writer is a stump-jumper, a ridge-runner. Hailing from North Central Pennsylvania, directly on the New York State border; she loves the changes in seasons, the humid air, all the mountainous forest, and the gloomy atmosphere.
Introverted, but not socially awkward, Erica prides herself on thinking first and filtering her speech. There are days she doesn’t speak at all. If it wasn’t for the fact that she lives with her parents, giving her a sense of reality, she would be a hermit, where the delivery man finds her months after expiration.
Reading was an escape, a way to leave a not-so pleasant reality behind. Reading lent Erica the courage she gathered from the characters between the pages to long for a different life. Writing was an instrument of change, evolving Erica into the woman she is today- a better, more mature, more at peace thinker.
Erica has a wicked mind, one she pours out into her creations. Her filter doesn’t allow all of it to erupt, much to her relief. Sarcastic, with a very dark, perverse sense of humor, Erica puts a bit of herself into every character she writes.
Connect with Erica
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Website ~ Goodreads
Google+ ~ Pinterest ~ tsū
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Hosted by
After fostering an orphan, adopting underprivileged kids, creating businesses to bring jobs back to the area, donating his time, energy, and money by founding the Community Growth: Life Skills Center, people are beginning to wonder if the man is running a campaign to earn the status of a saint.
Royce’s family is getting frustrated by idly watching their patriarch spread himself too thin, because he won’t allow them to shoulder his burdens or their own. Drastic measures are taken before the man can see reason. When the dust finally settles, Royce realizes he’s been taking care of everyone but himself.
But there’s a problem with sorting out your issues, with the clarity of mind, you can’t hide from the good, bad, and downright filthy secrets buried in the depths of your past.
With dark, violent, depraved skeletons, Rusty Knob’s patriarch isn’t as pure of soul as he appears to be. Will he finally surrender and accept the help to buff the tarnish away?
Just because it’s the moral thing to do, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for you.
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
Blue eyes wide and wild, I can practically hear Willa’s blood rushing through her body, eclipsing the sound of my own.
Time has reached a standstill. We lick our lips in mirrored unison, and it’s almost laughable. Holding our breath…
There’s no going back.
We collide like two forceful storm clouds creating a thunderhead, with violence and darkness, and bright flashes of angry electricity that will raze the land to the ground. But when the fire dies out, the land will be reborn.
Attacking me with ferocity, Willa tears my t-shirt from my back, fingernails scoring my skin with the painful bite of passion. There’s no denying we both want this more for ourselves than to get Donny out of trouble.
Gasping for air, I grip Willa’s hands before she can remove that white dress. “No, I want this on you,” rasps from my throat in a voice I don’t recognize. “This goddamned dress is a fantasy I didn’t know I even had.”
Naughty, Willa’s lips curl into a smirk, like she caught on to that fact before I did. “Depraved,” I drawl, leaning forward.
Wrapping my palm around the nape of Willa’s neck, my fingers trailing around her throat, I yank her lips to mine. Mouths open, tongues fighting, I kiss her like I’ve kissed no other, cementing how she’s just as much mine as I’m now hers.
“Now,” Willa gasps against my lips, breath shuddering. “I can’t wait any longer. I can’t.” With force, she shoves against my shoulders, pressing my back against the couch. Lifting up onto her knees, Willa shuffles backward on my thighs. Her fingers attack my jeans, tugging and tearing at my button and zipper.
Blown away, all I can do is sit back and watch in awe as Willa takes exactly what she wants from me. Releasing a sadistic chuckle, she reaches into my pants to free my cock. With a grunt, my hips buck off the cushion when her fingers wrap around my flesh and yank violently.
“Good God, woman! Don’t unman me,” I warn, shoving at my jeans until they’re past my ass and to my knees. “Your hungry kitty can wait until I get my dick out.”
“Fuck too, it can,” flows in a throaty demand as I’m shoved firmly against the back of the couch. I’ll surely have palm-shaped bruises to my shoulders come tomorrow morning. Hitching her leg, Willa reaches down to grip my cock and stand it upright. My eyes glue to the vision of her hand wrapped around my length. Sitting down hard, we both grunt in shock as her body swallows mine– ass meeting thighs.
Back arched, neck straining, fingertips clutching the cushion, my mind can’t absorb all the stimuli. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside a woman, and it was never this hot and tight. Offering me no comfort, Willa yanks my hair roughly to force my eyes open.
Demanding I maintain direct eye contact, a tiny palm clutches the front of my throat, fingernails digging into my flesh. Partially choking me, Willa uses my neck as leverage to roll her hips in a wave, riding me as promised.
My eyes venture downward, taking in how glossy my cock looks as Willa flows up and down my length. Disappearing and reappearing, I feel disconnected from my own dick, like this can’t be happening but it’s the wildest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.
Also Available in the Rusty Knob Series
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
Erica Chilson does not write in the 3rd person, wanting her readers to be her characters. Therefore, writing a bio about herself, is uncomfortable in the extreme.
Born, raised, and here to stay, the Wicked Writer is a stump-jumper, a ridge-runner. Hailing from North Central Pennsylvania, directly on the New York State border; she loves the changes in seasons, the humid air, all the mountainous forest, and the gloomy atmosphere.
Introverted, but not socially awkward, Erica prides herself on thinking first and filtering her speech. There are days she doesn’t speak at all. If it wasn’t for the fact that she lives with her parents, giving her a sense of reality, she would be a hermit, where the delivery man finds her months after expiration.
Reading was an escape, a way to leave a not-so pleasant reality behind. Reading lent Erica the courage she gathered from the characters between the pages to long for a different life. Writing was an instrument of change, evolving Erica into the woman she is today- a better, more mature, more at peace thinker.
Erica has a wicked mind, one she pours out into her creations. Her filter doesn’t allow all of it to erupt, much to her relief. Sarcastic, with a very dark, perverse sense of humor, Erica puts a bit of herself into every character she writes.
Connect with Erica
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Website ~ Goodreads
Google+ ~ Pinterest ~ tsū
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Hosted by
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