FALLING
UNDER by Lisa Renee Jones
JANUARY
23, 2018
ABOUT
A new sexy standalone from Lisa Renee
Jones…
Ex-special forces, Jacob
King, is a man who keeps to himself, having learned the hard way that letting
people close to you, trusting them, might just get you killed. A lesson he
learned when members of his Special Ops team turned dirty, while others, men he
considered friends, died. He made them pay. He made them hurt. He put them in
jail. And so he doesn't trust anyone anymore. He keeps his women hot and fast,
his friends few to none, and his clients through the elite Walker Security at a
professional distance, but safe.
It works for him. Until it doesn't.
His newest job should be simple and cut and dry. Jewel Carpenter, the daughter
of the CEO of Carpenter Enterprises, is receiving death threats. He's to
protect her and find out who is issuing the treats.
Simple. Cut and Dry.
Until it's not.
Until the chemistry between he and Jewel is all about love, hate, and sex. But
even as he fights the attraction to Jewel and discovers there is more to her
than meets the eye, the real threat comes not from the threats she's receiving,
but the connection she has to him. Because his past has come full circle, and
those men he's made pay for their sins now want him to pay. And what better way
than the woman in his bed?
BUY
LINKS
EXCERPT
“Just to be clear,” he
says, his voice low and rough. “I’m breaking every rule I own with you. I don’t
fuck women I’m protecting.”
“You could hand me over to someone else,” I suggest, “and it won’t matter.”
“Not a chance in hell,” he says, his hand sliding under my hair to cup my neck.
“We’ll break the rules together.”
“I’m not sure I like how you do ‘together’.”
“I’ll make sure you do,” he promises, his lips slanting over mine, and this
time he kisses me like he owns me, like he wants to control me, and like I
really am his, like I belong to him, and in this very moment, I can honestly
say
I am. I want him, and I can’t get enough of him.
And how can it ever be enough when he’s this damn impossibly hot, and he’s such
a damn good kisser. The way he makes me want his mouth on every part of me and
the way he makes me want my mouth on every part of him. And so, there it is.
I’m his, but I’m going to make damn sure he’s mine, too. I kiss him back as
passionately as he’s kissing me. I meet him stroke for stroke, arching into
him, telling him I am here and present, and I’m not even close to afraid of him
or of this. He doesn’t get to control me. He isn’t making me do this. I control
me, and I choose him and this.
Arching into him, his shoulder holster and mine are in the way, and I want them
gone. I want him naked. Just to be certain that he knows that’s where I want
this to go, my hand presses between us and I stroke the hard line of his shaft.
He groans low in his throat, a sexy rough sound that tells me he gets the
point. This isn’t his show. It’s ours. It’s us together, or there is no show,
with or without our clothes on.
His reaction is to tear his mouth from mine, his lips lingering there though,
as if he wants to kiss me again, and just when I would kiss him again, he leans
away just enough to shrug out of his jacket. I take one step backward, and do
the same with my blazer. I reach down and pull off my boots and he does the
same. Next, we disconnect our shoulder holsters, and the truth is, it’s the
first time I’ve ever been with a man who is probably more armed than me. That
feels significant when it perhaps is not. He’s not a cop. He’s not that kind of
career complication. He’s a Green-fucking-Beret, and one hell of a hot one, for
that matter.
He sets his weapon on the couch and snags my hand, walking me toward him and
taking my holster and weapon as he does. “Just making sure you don’t end up
shooting me before this is over,” he says, setting it with his before shackling
my hip.
“I told you I’ll wait until after the orgasms.”
“Careful,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips again. “I might hold that
orgasm and you captive.”
“You can try,” I say, but my head isn’t in the game in this moment, and somehow
my hand is on his face, right by the almost smile, that seems to have
complicated what should be sex, an escape, a way to pull back the emotions that
umbrella stirred in me. That smile reminds me that Mr. Robot is his wall, his
way to cope with death, with whatever makes him protect Jesse Marks.
He captures my hand. “What are you thinking?”
“That you have on too many clothes,” I say, before I let this go someplace emotional,
somewhere that two people like us never want to go.
My hands press under his shirt, but he doesn’t immediately give me what I want.
He studies me for several beats and then kisses me hard and fast. Too fast, but
I get over it when he pulls his shirt off. He cups my face and kisses me, his
hand sliding up my shirt, his touch fire that has me helping him pull my shirt
over my head. Letting him drag me to him where he now sits on the couch. I
straddle him, my bra somehow gone by the time I’m there. But my hands press to
his shoulders, and I hold him at bay. “I will still arrest you if I need to,” I
promise. “This doesn’t change that.”
“You aren’t going to arrest me any more than you hate me.” He glances down at
my chest, his gaze a hot caress as it rakes over my breasts, my nipples, before
his eyes meet mine. “Because you know I’m protecting you.”
I ignore the ache between my thighs. Or I try. “From what? The slayer or the
Jesse Marks damage patrol?”
His hand slides between my shoulder blades and he molds my chest to his. “Do
you really want to talk about Jesse Marks right now? Because if you ask me
questions, I’m going to ask you questions when I’d much rather be inside you,
giving you as many reasons as I can not to arrest me. But you pick. Conversation
or fucking.”
“Both,” I say, because it’s the truth. I want answers and I want the
conversation my emotions are having in my head to shut up. “Fucking first.” I
push away from him and stand up, unbuttoning my pants, sliding them down my
hips, and he watches me with that unreadable, robot expression that is
admittedly sexy as hell. I press my lips to his and that’s all it takes.
We are crazy, hot, kissing, his hands on my breasts, my nipples, my neck. I
can’t touch him enough. I can’t feel him enough, can’t get close enough, and
that’s new to me. I don’t need anyone the way I feel I need this man. I don’t
want to need anyone this much, but it’s too late. At least, right here, right
now, I do. He rolls us to our sides, facing one another, the wide cushion of
the couch more than holding us and the next kiss isn’t fast and frenzied. It’s
long, drugging, and somewhere in the midst of his tongue stroking my tongue, I
end up on my back with the heavy weight of him on top of me...
OTHER
BOOKS IN THE SERIES
Check out books one and two in the
WALKER SECURITY series: Deep Under and Pulled Under are both available now and
FREE in the KINDLEUNLIMITED PROGRAM! All three books in the series are
standalones.
Kristen Ashley was born in Gary, Indiana, USA and nearly killed her mother and herself making it into the world, seeing as she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck (already attempting to accessorize and she hadn’t taken her first breath!). Her mother said they took Kristen away, put her Mom back in her room, her mother looked out the window, and Gary was on fire (Dr. King had been assassinated four days before). Kristen’s Mom remembered thinking it was the end of the world. Quite the dramatic beginning.
Nothing’s changed.
Kristen grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana and has lived in Denver, Colorado and the West Country of England. Thus, she’s blessed to have friends and family around the globe. Her family was (is) loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write. They all lived together on a very small farm in a small farm town in the heartland. She grew up with Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched).
Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up.
And as she keeps growing, it keeps getting better.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author 
New York Times bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines, and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.
She’s a mixture of most of her female characters: sassy, intelligent, stubborn, reserved, outgoing, driven, emotional, strong, and wears her heart on her sleeve. All of which she displays daily with her husband and three children where they live in Southern California.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Since then she has written The Driven Series (Driven, Fueled, Crashed, Raced, Aced), the standalone Driven Novels (Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, Hard Beat, and Down Shift), and a novella (UnRaveled).
Joanna Wylde started her writing career in journalism, working in two daily newspapers as both a reporter and editor. Her career has included many different jobs, from managing a homeless shelter to running her own freelance writing business, where she took on projects ranging from fundraising to ghostwriting for academics. During 2012 she got her first Kindle reader as a gift and discovered the indie writing revolution taking place online. Not long afterward she started cutting back her client list to work on Reaper’s Property, her breakout book. It was published in January 2013, marking the beginning of a new career writing fiction.
Joanna lives in the mountains of northern Idaho with her family.
J.B. Salsbury is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband, two sassy daughters, and her boxer dogs.
Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always been at the forefront, and her love of romance propelled her career as an author.
She spends the majority of her day behind the computer where a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles claws away at her subconscious and begs to be released to the page.
For more information on her books, or just to say hello, visit JB on her website, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.
The first time we met was at a party.
"This is serious, Poppy. Will you promise?"
"What am I promising?" This man had a way of getting me to say things, to feel things, to admit things that I might not have otherwise. I wasn't sure if it was because he was older and wiser and that much more cunning at these types of discussions, or if it was just because being near him seemed to physically lower my inhibitions. He was like a walking shot of tequila.
"I need you to promise me that if anything physical happens between us—that it will be very consensual, and very sex-positive. I need you to understand that I will worship you and make you come So. Many. Fucking Times."
He annunciated those words so clearly and slowly, I felt them with every beat of my heart, every pulse of heat between my legs.
Oblivious to my hammering heart, Zach continued. "But I also need you to know that if I do or say anything you don't like, all you have to do is say so and everything will stop. Just the word no, Poppy. Use it and I promise to leave you alone."
"Leave me alone as in stop mentoring me, stop helping me in the program?"
His face was serious and he shook his head without even considering it. "I will never stop mentoring you, as long as you want it. Giving in to our attraction—or not—will never be a condition for my help. I want you to succeed, and it has nothing to do with how much I want you in my bed. Do you understand that?"
I felt myself nodding my head.
I knew what he was saying. Despite how aggressively Zach put his feelings on the subject of us out there—I knew he'd never betray my wishes.
"Okay," I murmured.
He considered me for a long moment, neither of us blinking.
"Why did you approach me that night at the party, Poppy. Did you find me attractive?"
Was he fucking serious?
Of course I find him attractive. Actually, attractive was too weak a word. I found him mesmerizing. Addictive. Enchanting. Impossible.
"I'm not saying I do, but if I wanted something to happen ..." I swallowed a wave of nerves and took a shallow breath as Zach's mouth curved into a grin.
"Something as in finding out how many times in a row I can make you come using my mouth, my hands, and my ..."
I held up one hand. "Yes. That. How would it work, isn't it, like, forbidden?"
God, why did the word forbidden make me feel even hotter?
A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 1.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. She's a traditionally published author with Simon & Schuster and Harper Collins UK, as well as an independently published author. Since she first began self-publishing in 2012, she's appeared at #1 on Barnes & Noble and iBooks charts around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.
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