Yet beneath his need for dominance, he carries the wounds of a painful past. Haunted by a legacy of dark secrets and broken trust, he seeks release in our shared ecstasy, the heat between us burning stronger each day.
Our attraction is undeniable, our obsession inevitable.
But not even Damien can run from his ghosts, or shield us from the dangers yet to come.
Take Me
Our wedding approaches.
But our past still threatens.
I’ve long dreamed of my fairy tale wedding, but it wasn’t until I met Damien Stark that I began to believe it was my destiny. Though we both carry secrets and scars, our shared passion heals us, binding us together. Our mutual ecstasy is the brightest light in my life.
But darkness still snakes through the cracks in our armour.
Ghosts from our past have moved in, bringing fresh pain that cuts deep and threatens to destroy everything we hold dear.
Damien is my anchor to this world, and I am his. But if we are going to keep each other, we have to fight the shadows of our pasts to move forward into our future.
Have Me
Happy Ever After is just the beginning …
Our wedding was everything I dreamed of, and now the honeymoon is a living fantasy. To be Mrs Damien Stark is the ultimate rush – to know that our claim to each other is real, our fierce passion sealing our bond. My kiss is forever his, his touch is forever mine.
We both harbor deep scars from our pasts, and we’ve done everything we can to lay our ghosts to rest. But there are still dreams that haunt me, and people that threaten to tear us apart.
Our shared ecstasy makes me feel alive, and I’ll do anything to keep Damien close. He is my future, my hope, my every want and need. And once you’ve tasted that kind of obsession, nothing can make you give it up.
New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner kicks off a smoking hot, emotionally compelling new erotic trilogy that returns to the world of her beloved Stark novels: Release Me, Claim Me, and Complete Me.
Say My Name
Featuring Jackson Steele, a strong-willed man who goes after what he wants, and Sylvia Brooks, a disciplined woman who’s hard to get—and exactly who Jackson needs.
Read on for an excerpt.
Chapter 1
The thwump-thwump of the helicopter’s rotors fills my head like a whisper, a secret message that I cannot escape. Not him, not now. Not him, not now.
But I know damn well that my plea is futile, my words flat. I can’t run. I can’t hide. I can only continue as I am—hurtling at over a hundred miles per hour on a collision course with a destiny I thought I had escaped five years ago. And with the man I’d left behind.
A man I tell myself I no longer want—but can’t deny that I desperately need.
I clutch my fingers tighter around the copy of Architectural Digest in my lap. I do not need to look down to see the man on the cover. He is as vivid in my mind today as he was back then. His hair a glossy black, with just the slightest hint of copper when the sun hits it just so. His eyes so blue and deep you could drown in them.
On the magazine, he sits casually on the corner of a desk, his dark gray trousers perfectly creased. His white shirt pressed. His cuff links gleaming. Behind him, the Manhattan skyline rises, framed in a wall of glass. He exudes determination and confidence, but in my mind’s eye, I see even more.
I see sensuality and sin. Power and seduction. I see a man with his shirt collar open, his tie hanging loose. A man completely at home in his own skin, who commands a room simply by entering it.
I see the man who wanted me.
I see the man who terrified me.
Jackson Steele.
I remember the way his skin felt as it brushed mine. I even remember his scent, wood and musk and a hint of something smoky.
Most of all, I remember the way his words seduced me. The way he made me feel. And now, here above the Pacific, I can’t deny the current of excitement that runs through me, simply from the prospect of seeing him again.
And that, of course, is what scares me.
As if to emphasize that thought, the helicopter banks sharply, sending my stomach lurching. I reach out to steady myself, pressing my hand against the window as I look out at the deep indigo of the Pacific below me and the jagged Los Angeles coastline receding in the distance.
“We’re on our approach, Ms. Brooks,” the pilot says a short while later, his voice crystal clear through my headphones. “Just a few more minutes.”
“Thanks, Clark.”