FREEBIE - FIRST TIME EVER - WRENCHED ( HELL'S BASTARD # 1) - DARK SUSPENSE ROMANCE

THIS IS THE FIRST TIME EVER

 WRENCHED HAS BEEN FREE!

DON'T MISS THIS OPPORTUNITY TO MEET EDGE & WHISPER

AMAZING SERIES!

18+ Readership

WRENCHED

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2uSbpty

Amazon UK : http://amzn.to/2tyfDGy

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CURRENTLY IN #KINDLEUNLIMITED FIRST 4 BOOKS

5TH AND FINAL BOOK RELEASING IN A FEW WEEKS

BLURB

A debt to be paid. A mind blowing story starts to unwind.

Strap yourself in for one hell of a ride.

Stolen—I was a whisper.

Freedom—it came with a price.

This is not your average love story

WHISPER

Life has been a bitch to me.

I don’t even know my full name.

I was a secret.

Miss Catherine and Boxer changed my life.

I now trusted in mankind.

Until Edge walked into my life.

Now I’m screwed.

I’ve escaped one Hell’s bastard to be wrenched towards another.

PRAISE FOR WRENCHED 

Followed by an extract from the book.

It's a Dark and ballsy read like no other book I have read in a long long time. ~ She’s A Lip Biter

Wrenched was my first Emma James book and I have to say, I really enjoyed this dark read. A bit of a captive story mixed in with a MC theme. With various POV shifts as we get to know all the players, I was fully enthralled as the story progressed. 

~ Michelle New – Goodreads

I truly loved this story, and I recommend it to anyone that loves their stories dark and a little wicked. It's bound to get the heart racing, in more ways than one. ^_^ 

~ Stacey – Sassy Book Lovers

This is a very emotional and awesome experience for all its reader. Quite disturbing and even scary for the characters. 

~ Maree Repa – Goodreads

Then everything gets twisted together, fates collide, and things get even more intense than I even thought possible. It's hard to tell who is good. Who is bad. Who is redeemable. Who even deserves a chance at redemption.

I NEED to know what happens! I require more! Don't mind me...I'll just be over here in the edge of my seat, biting my nails and binge eating comfort foods, waiting for book two. 

~ George - One Click Addict Support Group 

Being from Louisiana this book was easy to relate to. She has Miss C’s character on the money all the way to the way she speaks. We do speak like that here. The writing was smooth and easy to read.

~ Kayla – Goodreads 

EXTRACT FROM WRENCHED

EDGE POV

I’ve just walked into the bar and I’m in need of a piss, so I follow the restroom sign and notice along the way how empty the bar is, while the jukebox has some romantic country song wailing out of it. I could have relieved myself on my father’s land, but even my piss was too good to be spilled on something he had owned.

I’ve taken care of business, ready for a beer, when I hear barely audible feminine grunts followed by smacking noises coming from up the stairs.

Call me curious.

I quietly climb the stairs, noting the Private: Staff Only sign nailed to the beam above my head, ignoring it as I walk toward the sounds, when I see her in a back room, punching a heavy bag in painted on, ass-hugging, little black workout shorts. I’m amused at first. My thoughts of revenge falling to second place as I cross my arms over my chest, propping myself up against the doorjamb while I watch her smack the bag with her toned arms as she makes those soft little grunts.

She has no idea I’m standing here observing her. I should walk away, but the more I stand here watching her, the more I can’t take my eyes off her. She sure is a looker.

This female is so determined to break her thumbs that I have to step in and save them. She is lean, but she still has nice curves, like a slow-winding country road travelling up her body. Her tight, rounded globes have my dick’s attention as she swings around the bag, concentrating so hard that she doesn’t notice me, sweat dripping off her pretty face, determination written all over it.

I decide then and there I want to get to know her tonight. I have seen that look. That’s the look of somebody who’s working off stress…or working off somebody.

She is quick on her feet, but she is holding her hands wrong. She doesn’t even have them strapped. She looks like she walked in and just needed to start hitting something. Her tits are a good handful, and her tight black workout top holds them secure. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail, perfect for grabbing onto, and she has these big, chocolate brown eyes a man could drown in while he fucks her senseless.

She is light on her feet as she rotates around again, jabbing at the bag with her back to me. In my current status of good-guy-civilian, I have to help her out.

I walk up to her and lay my hands on either side of her shoulders to calm her movements. She stops with a gasp, her body stiffening. I watch her reaction time. It’s slow as her mind works on what to do next. She needs to get a little quicker with that.

Then it comes.

I’m ready.

She swings around, ready to shove her palm straight up into my nose, hoping to buy herself some time as she flees for help.

Somebody has been taking self-defense lessons. I actually find myself liking the fact that she has some knowledge about how to protect herself.

I dodge her predictable defensive response to my invasion of her space. Her palm goes flying through the air, hitting nothing. I twist her back around, keeping her arms locked down tight, and her back to my chest. “We can do this all night if you like, but I’m not here to hurt you. I came in for a beer and to take a piss. I’ve been on the road the last few days. If you’ll calm down, I’ll release you.”

She thinks about my words and my actions and does as she’s told. She’s naïve, but I won’t tell her that. Before I fully release her, I move my hands over hers and reposition her thumbs for her. “Like this.” I soften my deep, rough, gravelly voice because I can be very intimidating when I want to be. “Little lady, I was just gonna tell you you’re gonna break those thumbs the way you are hitting that bag.” From her body language, I can see intimidation will get me nowhere. I need to behave like a civil gentleman, and not who I really am.

“You’re not thinking about the care of your hands before you beat the heavy bag senseless because your mind is elsewhere.” She’s all kinds of frazzled about something, and this is an impulsive thing to do. She might have started out with good intentions, putting her workout gear on, but then it escalated to, ‘Fuck my hands. I need to hit something, pronto’.

I fully release her and she immediately takes a step away from me, twisting around to take in who was touching her, who has invaded her private workout. Her eyes widen in surprise as she looks me up and down quickly. They don’t linger too long. She just needed to assess me for any danger.

Smart girl.

All she sees standing before her is a clean-cut American guy. She would have given me a different look had she seen me in my cut, but for some reason, I don’t think it would have necessarily impressed her. There are the chicks who would fear us, and then there are the chicks who can’t wait to get in our pants. I’m not a hundred percent sure which category she was in at the moment.

I look her in the eyes. “I can tell this isn’t your first time at the bag. You’ve let yourself get distracted, little lady.”

“Thank you,” she whispers to me. “You are right. I am distracted. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Her eyes are now downcast and darting back and forth. “I’m good now, thank you. You can leave me to it.”

I sense a challenge. I saw her look of appreciation before she looked away. I never have to work hard. I get fucked with ease.

“You shouldn’t be up here. This is the private part of the bar and it’s now closed. How did you get in here?” Her voice is soft-spoken.

“The door was unlocked and the jukebox was wailing. Also, it’s only just eight o’clock. I needed a beer. What bar shuts at eight o’clock?”

“This bar,” she mumbles. She slowly looks up when I don’t respond to her two words, and then her eyes roam all over my body...again.

I’m neatly dressed and my hair is freshly cut. I’m wearing designer jeans, a checkered button up, and a leather jacket. I stopped off in New Orleans to get myself some civvies to wear on the way over. My cut is rolled up in my saddle bag on my bike.

I usually look dangerous and intimidating, but tonight, I need to be somebody else less threatening. I also need to be anonymous in this town, just a guy wanting a beer, passing on through.

Tonight, I’m nothing more than your average Joe Blow.

“Are you in charge of the bar?” I can’t sense anybody else around.

“Not normally, but for now, yes.”

She’s deciding if she will allow me a drink. I know I look tired, and now I’m all kinds of sexually frustrated, since I’ve laid eyes on this female.

“If you want a beer, I can get you one.” She’s too trusting, but I won’t knock her back. I really could do with a beer.

This new hair cut is hanging in my face, and it works to my advantage, making me look younger. I scoop it up and over my head and give her a little smile. “You look like you need a break. Can I buy you a drink?” I’m all for smooth talking her to get what I want.

I can see her weighing up whether to let me buy her a drink.Interesting, she’s making me work for it. I’m all for a challenge. She just made herself that little bit more of a game to me, so I offer up more information. “I’m just in town to visit family and decided to stop on by for a couple drinks before I head on over.” A little white lie, but I can see I have to pull some half-truths here to get this one to take the bait.

“And they can’t give you a beer?”

Shit. “They no longer drink.” Well, that part is true. “Wouldn’t be polite of me to show up with alcohol, when they’re on the wagon.”

I give her my warmest look, which I normally reserve for the people I’m hunting, because I need to pull on my resources for this female standing before me.

My brothers know if I get this look on my face I’m far more dangerous than when I look like I want to kill you. If I look like I want to kill you, then where’s the element of surprise? But if I look at you like you are my friend and you can trust me, then you won’t see me coming,motherfucker.

I need to take the edge off and get laid, and she just became my prey for the night. I’ll be fucking her before the night is through.

I hold my hand out to her to shake. “I’m Edge, and you are?”

She puts her small hand in mine and gives my hand a little squeeze. “I’m Sara.” I can see immediately she’s lying to me. She has no clue how to lie. My name’s Edge because I always have the upper hand.

She looks at me like she wants to say something more, her mouth opens a little, and then she says in a very small voice, “Ok. I’ll be over in a few minutes. Let me just clean up a bit.”

“I’ll just go wait out at the bar for you.” I have to strain my ears to hear her. “Take your time, little lady. I’ll be waiting.”

I can sniff a good girl out, and she’s definitely a good girl, but can I get her to be a bad girl tonight?

I head down to the bar and take it upon myself to flip the closed sign on and click the locks. She’s not used to closing up the bar because somebody else normally does this, and tonight, for whatever reason, she’s been left alone to do it, and look what happens.

I happen.

I take a slow look around the bar. It’s fitted out in wood and leather. A real old school kind of small town bar, with an old school kind of jukebox in the corner. The music has stopped, so I walk over to it, feeling around my pockets for a handful of coins, and I punch in several songs. The jukebox comes to life, clicking and whirring, and “One Of These Nights” by The Eagles starts playing.

I could have ducked behind the bar and gotten a couple of beers, but I don’t want to appear more than who I want her to see. I want in her pants, and being Edge, the Soulless Bastard, isn’t gonna cut it with this gal.

I take out my phone and text Hazard. I let him know I’ve arrived and I’ll be tidying everything up soon. Whisper will be meeting an untimely end. We discuss some club stuff back and forth, and then end our conversation. I delete the messages, so my phone is clean.

I’ve positioned myself so I can see when she comes back into the bar. The jukebox clicks away as it chooses the next song, “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet starts playing.

She walks in, looking around the empty bar until she locates where I’m seated. She makes a stop behind the bar and holds up two beers. I nod my head, and she brings them over. I don’t care about the brand; I just need a drink. I can see she’s showered and has put on a clean white tank top, a knitted black zip-up, little denim shorts, and flip-flops. I’m amused at the flip-flops.

“Slide on in, little lady.” I figure she’ll sit next to me, but instead, she sits across from me. “Do you talk?”

“Of course.” Her voice is so damn quiet against the jukebox playing in the background.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna have to speak up because I can’t hear you.” She slides the beer over to me and I hold it up to her. “Thank you,” I tell her, then take a deep swig.

She takes a long drink from her bottle and makes a little face while she looks about nervously. I need to go in for another swoop of getting her to trust me. This chick needs to chill. “Look, Sara, if you don’t want to talk and have a beer, that’s fine by me. I just thought you looked interesting and we might get along tonight.”

“No. You are great. It’s me. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.” Her eyes turn to me, but can’t stay on me for too long. “I received some unwanted news today.”

“Is that what the pounding on the heavy bag was all about?”

She nods her head. “My trainer would be disappointed all his hard work went down the peach pit the minute he left me alone.”

Peach pit? I like this woman. “Is he your boyfriend?” Of course she would have somebody. I take a long swig out of my bottle, draining the contents. I’m about to cock-block my own dick and get out of here.

“Oh, no!” She laughs and I like the sound of it. “He’s more a father figure to me. He’s away for a few days, and I was just feeling a little tense. He will help me sort it all out when he gets back.”

I give my dick a mental double-thumbs-up, deciding maybe she’s worth the challenge tonight after all. It’s very rare a female doesn’t push herself on me, or rub her tits in my face when I invite her for a drink. Actually, it’s rare more than one woman isn’t vying for my attention at the same time. This is something new to me. She’s put a small chink in my ego.

When I’m hunting, I need to know when to back off and when to go in for the kill. This girl needs more effort, or else I will blow it before I can get to the finish line.