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STROKED HARD
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STROKED HARD
Scheduled to release: November 1, 2016Sports Romance
Cover Designed by:
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He’s hot. Like, stop breathing kind of hot with his killer body, vivid blue eyes, and constant five o’clock shadow.
Did I mention his body?
Watching Hollis Knightly, Olympic diving gold medalist, man-pony specialist—and cocky bastard—stand up on the diving platform in nothing but a small piece of Spandex? Yeah, I’m beguiled.
And easily seduced.
I want to keep things light but he won’t leave me alone. And hell, if he’s not wearing me thin.
What is supposed to be a simple summer fling with a very hot man, has now morphed into a f*cked-up mess of feelings, attachment, and dare I say it…love. But I don’t do relationships. And Hollis Knightly does.
NOW AVAILABLE!
STROKED
by Meghan Quinn
Released: July 19, 2016
Cover Designer: Murphy Rae
Sports Romance
Reese King: Olympic medalist, underwear model, Greek god.
His body is chiseled from rock, sculpted by the weight room, and refined by water.
On a daily basis his skin is completely bare for everyone to see, tan and defined, only covered up by a minuscule piece of spandex. There is no denying his sex appeal.
I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.
There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.
What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.
STROKED LONG
by
Meghan Quinn
Released September 20, 2016
Sports Romance
Cover Design: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae
From his dirty-blond hair and breathtaking smile, to the abs from heaven and the irresistible V in his waistline, everything about Bodi Olympic-gold-medalist Banks screams hot piece of @$$.
Yet there’s more.
Dark shadows lurk behind his soulful, serious eyes.
I’m enamored. He’s captured me.
How can running an art foundation with Bodi Banks turns into a slow-burning, epic romance, even though he tries to push me away at every chance? How can I stay away from a broken, routine-driven man whose soul cries to be forgiven for a crime only he believes he committed? Or is that a lie?
**STROKED LONG can be read as a stand alone.
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
**STROKED LONG can be read as a stand alone.
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if "It's Raining Men" starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
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“Do you remember what I told you the other night?” he asks, leaning forward, his body heat turning the temperature up between us.
I take a second to swallow before nodding. “Yeah.”
“And what was it that I said?”
Of course he’s going to make me say it.
Shyly, looking up from under my lashes, I say, “Something about no more good-night hugs.”
“Correct.” He leans forward even more, his body now flush against mine. “What else did I mention?”
Nervously, I answer, “Something about lips touching.”
He chuckles and that sound nearly destroys me. I’m nervous, I’m seriously nervous and I never get nervous. Where’s my backbone? Where’s my moral ground? Where the hell is my sassy voice that would normally be turning down this man who has made it known he wants me?
She’s long gone. Bare chested, ungodly sexy smelling Hollis chased her away.
That and my vagina has taken over all decisions regarding the man standing in front of me.
His hand runs up my side and cups my cheek, followed by the gentle pull of his thumb on my bottom lip, his face inching even closer.
God, he’s going to kiss me. And I’m going to let him.
“These lips right here.” He sighs . . . freaking sighs. “These lips were one of the first things I noticed about you. How they shined, begging for me to come brand them with my own. I’ve dreamt of these lips and I’m finally going to take what I want from them.”
My heart is pounding rapidly in my chest, my breath has escaped me, and he leans forward, closing the gap between us, I can’t help but internally beg him to keep moving forward.
Please don’t let this be a joke. Just one taste. Just one night. That’s all I want. One night with Hollis to get him out of my system so I can move on. So he’ll move on.
With one last press of my hips against my front door, Hollis traps me in his grip and guides his lips down on mine.
Soft.
Gentle.
Intoxicating.
It’s the only way I know how to describe what he’s doing. His mouth is closed, there is no tongue, there is no urgency; it’s cautious but antsy at the same time.
Every bit of my body is tingling with excitement from the way he feels against my body, from the way his hands grip me just right, and from the way his lips roam about mine, never furthering the kiss into anything other than a light press of my mouth against his.
He makes me want to beg for more. Soft little movements send my body into a vortex of heat, sweeping me up into an eternal state of arousal. Just from a kiss.
A simple kiss is throwing my world for a loop. Everything I’ve ever known is changing from this small and innocent kiss. I’ve never been kissed like this
A sexy, clit-clenching moan flows from the depths of his throat out of his mouth as he pulls away. Seductively, while staring me directly in the eyes, he licks his lips, savoring the flavor on them.
Crap, that’s so freaking hot.
“Just what I thought. You taste like fucking heaven, baby.”
If I taste like heaven then why did he stop? Shouldn’t he want to keep going?
So I want him to keep going? That’s the real question I should be asking here. Get it together, Mel. You’re not supposed to be giving in.
But . . .
It’s Hollis Knightly. Hollis FREAKING Knightly. There is only so much I can do when it comes to turning him down.
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