HOUSE OF PAYNE: LOKI is LIVE on Amazon! Welcome to the world, Alice and Loki! *blows all the kisses* For those of you who read on other platforms, LOKI will be releasing 2/27/20, as scheduled. đ
Tag: House of Payne
Early Release for LOKI!
Announcement! I’m releasing HOUSE OF PAYNE: LOKI early! *throws confetti*
The reason for the schedule change? One of my beta readers found a couple of issues, but by the time I got those issues fixed, Amazon had locked the proverbial gates and editing wasn’t possible. So, since I’m determined to put my very best effort out into the world, I’m pulling LOKI’s pre-order and hitting the “PUBLISH NOW!” button! Wheeee!
But since the book still won’t release for a few hours, why not get a sneak preview right now? Here’s the first chapter of HOUSE OF PAYNE: LOKI!

Chapter One
Slow boil. Usually Alice prided herself in being the epitome of caution, refusing to give in to that legendary Halliday rage that burned so easily inside.
But now?
If she made it through the day without strangling someone, itâd be a miracle.
âWelcome to House Of Payne.â A tall woman approached, decked out in a â50s-style dress with petticoats for days, and hair as bright fuchsia as her dress. âAre you here for a tattoo? If so, I can get you checked in over there at the front desk.â
Alice didnât bother glancing in the direction the shockingly pink woman indicated. âIâm not here for a tattoo. Iâm here because I want to kill someone with my bare hands. Or at the very least, talk to him. Is a guy by the name of Loki in?â
She had to hand it to the pink lady. Her spectacularly made-up eyes barely widened. âAre you armed?â
For crying out loud. âOf course not.â
The pink woman seemed unimpressed with her indignation. âYou did say you wanted to kill someone.â
âWith my freaking hands, not with a gun. Guns are barbaric.â Then she took a deep breath and gripped her hands together, grappling with the horrible fury thrumming inside. Wanting to kill someone with her bare hands wasnât cool. Saying she wanted to kill someone with her bare hands was even worse.
Considering that she was the child of a man whoâd died as a rage monster, she seriously needed to get her shit together.
âAre you a woman heâs done wrong?â Understandably, the pink woman didnât appear to be overly anxious to let Alice enter any deeper into the building, much less talk to one of their employees. âBecause if you are, my sympathies, sister, and I sincerely mean that. But this is a place of business. That kind of soap-opera bullshit doesnât get played out under this roof. You can wait to uncork whatever can of whoop-ass you want on Loki in the privacy of your own home. Dirty laundry doesnât get aired here in the lobby, you understand me?â
âI donât know him.â Nor did she want to, but by damn, someone had to hold the bastard accountable. âIâm not going to ask again. Is. Loki. Here?â
The pink lady took her time looking her over, and Alice was more than happy to shoot that look back in spades. They were almost the same height, though the pink chick had an inch or so on her, thanks to some wicked-looking stilettos. Flower tattoos decorated her upper chest and shoulders exposed by the dressâs scoop collar, as well as down the upper part of her arms. But, despite all the girly frills of pretty flower tats, spiky heels, catâs eye makeup and ruffled petticoats, the set of the womanâs jaw and hard look in her eyes told Alice this woman had never been a pushover in her life. Not even in her diaper days.
âYeah, youâve got trouble written all over you,â the pink lady announced, and Alice blinked. It was like she was reading her mind. âYou wanna know what I see when I look at you?â
âNo offense, but I donât actually care what you see.â
âI see a hardcore, cast-iron bitch who gives zero fucks when it comes to playing nice with others,â the pink lady went on, clearly ignoring her. âHow close am I?â
Alice gripped her hands that much tighter. âItâs like youâve known me since birth. Do you have a point?â
âYeah, you definitely donât play nice,â she muttered, as if to herself. âFact is, I spotted you from all the way across the lobby. Thatâs why I came over. Is there any point in trying to talk you out of this?â
âThis is happening, one way or another.â
âFigured.â She studied Alice through narrowed eyes. âBefore I say whether or not Loki is here, Iâm going to give you some advice.â
Ugh. âMust you?â
âYeah. I must.â The woman threw out a sassy hip and planted a manicured hand on it. âItâs more like information rather than advice, but here it is. While I give you props for your honesty, you need to know that everyone under this roof is considered family. Loki might be a dick, but heâs our dick. You roll up on him, you roll up on all of us. That should at least give you pause. Does it?â
âNo.â
Pinkieâs mouth tightened. âHeâs also about twice your size and weight, so that means the only person whoâs going to get hurt around here is you if you keep bearing down on whatever problem it is youâve got with him. Walk away now while you still can.â
âI get what it is to have family you find along the way.â Alice struggled to swallow the simple fuck you that desperately wanted to come out. Pinkie wasnât the target of her anger, after all. âLoki busted up my foster brother, landed him in the hospital, and took the payroll heâd had with him. That, in turn, lost me my job at my foster brotherâs gym, because heâs decided the only thing left for him to do is declare bankruptcy and crawl away with his tail tucked between his legs.â
Her eyes widened. âWhy havenât you gone to the police?â
âMy foster brother wonât go. Out of all the injuries Loki gave him, the injury to his pride seems to be the most crippling.â
Pinkie waited a beat. âAnd you believe him?â
What the hell. âI believe my foster brother has a broken jaw and eight teeth heâs never going to see again. I believe I have an empty bank account and canât make rent, just like all the other gym employees, because the payroll was taken by Loki. I believe this Loki asshole needs to give that money back before weâre all out on the streets, and I believe that I can persuade him to do it. Thatâs why Iâm here. Thatâs why I wonât give up until I find a way to make him do whatâs right.â
âNot under this roof, you wonât,â came the flat reply, and there was no softening in the other womanâs eyes. âUnder this roof, itâs nothing but calm professionalism that caters solely to our clientele. I take great pleasure in crushing troublemakers like bugs if they come in here trying to disrupt that peace.â
Fuck. âGreat. Thanks for wasting my time.â
âBut,â the woman went on when Alice started to stomp away, âwhatever happens beyond these walls isnât my problem. Youâre on a mission, I can see that. Gotta say, itâs an unbelievably stupid mission, because it wonât fix whatever actually happened to your foster brother and his money. Nor is it going to bring your job back, and itâll likely get you landed in a hospital bed right next to your foster brother. So, yeahâstupid. But I can also see nothing is going to stop you until you land your stupid ass in that hospital bed, so I might as well try to minimize your damage as much as I can and keep some kind of control over this crappy situation.â
Alice scowled. How many times had she been called stupid? âBesides calling me stupid three times over, what exactly are you saying?â
âLoki parks his chopper out back in the employee parking lot.â The woman ignored her commentâno doubt Pinkie deemed it as stupid as the rest of herâand pulled a phone from her skirtâs slash pocket to tap on it. âItâs the only Harley out there, and he loves it more than anything. In fact, itâs probably the only thing in the world heâs ever loved, which tells you a lot about what kind of person he is, but whatever.â Clearing her throat, she brought the phone up, but didnât put it to her ear like Alice had expected. Instead, she put it to her mouth, looking up toward the second-floor level. âAttention, House employees. Attention.â
Aliceâs eyes widened as the womanâs voice sounded throughout the building over some internal PA system.
âLoki, your presence is required downstairs. It seems someone is messing with your bike.â With that, the woman pointed toward a metal door partially hidden beneath a set of glass block and metal stairs. âEmployee parking lotâs through there. You have about thirty seconds to get there. Try not to die. Iâd hate to have you on my conscience for the rest of my life.â
âThanks.â Alice paused just long enough to give her a tight smile. âSeriously. Thank you.â
âLady, I just organized your death, so donât thank me for it. Oh, but I should probably know your name. You know, for your epitaph.â
âAlice Halliday. Feel free to donate my body to science.â With a curt nod, she moved through the door and into the parking lot.
All she needed to do was convince this Loki asshole to return the money, she thought, moving past the railing that outlined a nearly full parking lot. She would do whatever it took to make that happen. Threaten to go to the police. Appeal to his sense of compassionâif he had anyâabout the many lives heâd hurt with his selfish actions. Beat the shit out of him.
No, she chided herself, clamping down on the errant thought like the rabid thing it was. No violence. No matter how desperate her situation was, she wouldnât give in to that horrible Halliday temper sheâd inherited. No matter what, she was going to be the cautious, logically detached person she always tried to be. All she had to do was remember what her first taekwondo instructor had taught her when it came to self-disciplineâhe who loses control, loses.
Or, in her case, she.
She wasnât going to lose control. She never lost control. It was a point of pride for her. From the age of twelve, sheâd never lost control of her emotions. Not once. She was calm. She was careful. She was detached. Hell, she hadnât even cried at her fatherâs funeral. She had this.
She had this.
The Harley was near the back and parked next to a pole bristling with security cameras that swiveled to track her movements. Eyeing the one that homed in on her first, she gave it a little wave.
It was always nice to be noticed.
The door exploded open, and a nightmarish beast of a man surged through.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
Pinkie hadnât been kidding about the manâs size. Most North American bears were smaller than this guy. He had the dangerous look down pat, too. Biker boots, a patch-covered jeans jacket with the arms cut off, or kutte, ripped jeans, Harley T-shirt and skull rings on several fingers. His close-cropped beard was a darker shade of blonde than his hair that glinted like hammered gold in the sun. He wore that hammered-gold hair longer than chin length, parted down the middle, with the sides tucked behind his multi-pierced ears in a way that should have lessened his overall masculine impact, but instead it only intensified it. She couldnât tell what color his eyes were from that far away, but that was fine with her. She didnât care.
The only thing she cared about was taking everything that had gone wrong in her life because of this bastard, and putting it right.
She could do this.
And yetâŚ
Something told her that appealing to this hulk of a manâs compassion was going to be about as effective as asking water to not be wet.
âGet away from that bike, bitch,â he roared, his long legs eating up the distance at an alarming rate. Impossibly he seemed to increase in size as he went. The pink womanâs remark that sheâd just arranged Aliceâs funeral echoed through her head, but the memory of what this monster had done to poor Felixâand to her and the other gym employeesâdrowned it out.
No.
Survival instinct be damned.
No way was she running.
âI havenât touched your dumbass, Iâm-overcompensating-for-my-tiny-dick bike. But if you donât like where Iâm standing, why donât you come over here and fucking move me, bitch?â
His fast roll came to such an abrupt stop it was like he hit an invisible wall. âWhat the fuck did you just say?â
Ha. âOh. You donât like being called bitch? Iâve been called that my whole life, so take it from an expert. Learn to embrace the labelâŚbitch.â
âThe nameâs Loki, and I have no doubt you answer to bitch just fine. That wasnât what I was talking about.â He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and cocked his head, his stance suddenly turning casual. âDid you just imply that I have a small dick?â
She blinked. Five seconds in, and they were already having a dick convo? That had to be some kind of record.
âDude, you ride a Harley that has more chrome on it than all the cars from the 1950s put together. Either you have terminally shitty taste, or youâre packing a light load that no woman wants a part of.â
âHavenât had any complaints so far.â The insult to his manhood didnât seem to land the debilitating punch sheâd been hoping for. If his lopsided grin was any indication, he thought sheâd made a funny. âWanna see?â
Geez. âIf I wanted something to laugh at, I wouldâve gone to the Comedy Club.â
âSuch a mouthy brat,â he observed, but again his tone was surprisingly gentle as he stayed rooted to the spot, acting nothing at all like the berserker criminal Felix had described. âMark my words, that mouth of yours is going to get you into a world of hurt someday.â
âBut not today?â That would be very surprising, considering the amount of provocation sheâd thrown his way. This wasnât turning out the way sheâd expected at all.
Crossing thickly muscled arms decorated with tattoos, he lifted a shoulder. âI donât hurt women. Itâs a personal code.â
âBut youâre fine with hurting guys who are smaller than you, and then robbing them blind?â
That made his eyes narrow. âWhat?â
âYou heard me.â
âI heard your words, but I have no fucking clue what they have to do with me. Who are you, exactly?â
âAnswer the damn question. You get off on beating up helpless guys who are smaller than you and have no hope of laying you out, donât you?â
âIâm going to be honest hereâI get off on a lot of things. Long legs and pouty lips. Fragile porcelain skin and raven hair. Big, dark eyes that burn with a deep-seated need for murder. Oh, yeah. I get off on a lot of shit. Randomly attacking crybaby weaklings isnât one of them.â
Grimly she ignored the basic description of how he obviously saw her and gripped her hands together in an effort to quell her anger. âIâm not into murder.â
âTrust me, you are. Iâve seen that look before.â He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and gave her a hot and heavy glance. âMm. Gotta say, you make it look sexy as fuck.â
Good grief. âAlso, Felix isnât a crybaby, or weak. Heâs just smaller than you.â
âFelix, huh? Heâs your man?â
âMy friend.â
He rolled his eyes. âYeah, right. You got your pretty little ass down here to bitch me out over a friend. Uh-huh.â
She who loses control, loses, Alice chanted to herself, gripping her hands so tightly her fingers went numb. She who loses control⌠âThatâs right, pal. You put that friendâwho was also my employerâin the hospital. Whatâs more, you stole the payroll off him after you broke him up nine ways to Sunday, which means none of us got paid.â
That stopped him cold. âBullshit.â
âOn top of that,â she went on, undeterred, âIâm out of a job, because Felix has decided to declare bankruptcy now that heâs got months of rehabilitation to go through. Iâve literally got nothing in the bank, I have no job, and itâs all because of you. Youâre going to give that payroll back, and Iâm here to make you do it.â
âLady, I have no fucking clue what youâre talking about,â he announced, his brows snapping together in a scowl so terrible it took most of her strength to not crawl away into the nearest hole she could find. âI didnât jump your man, and I sure as hell am no thief.â
Wasnât he listening? âFelix is not my man.â
âAnd if this Felix fuckface dude told you that I just randomly beat him up out of fucking nowhere, then he really is a damn weakling by not copping to his own actions,â he sneered in obvious disgust. âDamn, Iâm sorry I wasted my time on such a spineless little pissant.â
âAha! There! You just admitted to tuning Felix up.â Finally.
âIâm not admitting shit, lady. All Iâm willing to say is that I may have tuned your man up, but I donât know that for a fact.â
Clearly, he believed she was an idiot. âYou honestly expect me to believe you donât know the man you jumped and robbed?â
âAgain, Iâm no thief, so youâre barking up the wrong fucking tree on that score. And I donât usually get the names of the people I bust up.â
âBut you do bust people up.â
He gave a negligent shrug. âI do whatever I have to do whenever I need to blow off steam, but taking down names is the last thing on my mind whenever Iâm in that kind of mood. Obviously that weak-ass Felix fuckface of yours is a different story. After all, he sent you here, so he mustâve picked up my name and where I work somewhere along the way.â
âFelix didnât send me. It was my idea to come here.â
âWhy? You want an apology?â A snort of what sounded like amusement escaped him. âThat shitâs never going to happen, lady, no matter how hot you are.â
Holy crap. âI came here to make you clean up the vat of shit youâve dumped onto Felixâs lifeâand therefore my life and the lives of all my fellow employees.â
âAnd how am I supposed to do that, Stems? Unbreak him?â
Stems? âYou need to give the payroll back.â
âFor the last time, I didnât steal any fucking payroll, so thereâs nothing for me to give back. I donât know what happened to the money that this Felix fuckface dude says I took, but Iâd be willing to bet he does. Talk to him again and see if his story changes.â
That dreaded Halliday rage built, fueled by desperation when she began to realize she might not be able to fix things after all. Donât lose it, she silently pleaded with the rising tide of emotion. She who loses control⌠âI donât have time for this shit. Give the money back, or I swear Iâll bring in the police.â
âWhy havenât you already?â Slowly he sauntered toward her, still looking surprisingly nonthreatening, despite being the largest tower of pure, muscle-bound masculinity sheâd ever clapped eyes on. Even his tattoos looked like they had muscles, for crying out loud. âWhy is it Iâm talking to you, and not the police? If I robbed this Felix fuckface guyââ
âAre you seriously going to keep calling him that?â
âYeah, I am. If Felix fuckface actually got robbed by me, why didnât he call the cops? He obviously knows my name and where I work. If he really believed I took that money, all he had to do was pick up a damn phone. But itâs been ten days now, and no cops.â
âTen days,â she hissed, pouncing. âThere. You see? You do remember robbing Felix and beating him to within an inch of his life.â
âTen days ago was the last time I threw hands with someone, but thatâs all it was. I never robbed anyone, Stems. Youâve been straight-up lied to, but youâre just too damn loyal and stubborn to see it.â
âStop calling me Stems.â
âYour legs are the longest damn stems Iâve ever seen on a pretty little flower like you, so thatâs never going to happen.â
Okay, screw this shit. âLook, if you donât give the money back, then Iâm going to have to go against Felixâs wishes and call the police.â
âGo ahead.â He stopped several paces away from her, a terrifyingly beautiful statue of masculine brutality just waiting to be unleashed, with the broadest shoulders sheâd ever seen, a powerful chest Hercules wouldâve been proud of, and muscle-corded arms as thick as her legs. âBut before you do, answer the damn question. Why hasnât Felix fuckface called the authorities himself? Think, Stems. Iâll bet deep down you know the answer.â
As much as she hated to admit itâleast of all to this badass biker giantâthat question had nagged at her from the get-go. There had been that one time, right before the death of Felixâs mother, that had shown Alice just how flawed her foster brother was⌠âIâve tried reasoning with you. I tried appealing to your sense of compassion. Like I knew it would be, that was an epic fail. Iâve even threatened police. The only thing left to do isâŚis beat the money out of you.â
She waited for him to laugh. She supposed she should have been thankful he didnât. âUh⌠what?â
âYouâve left me with no other choice.â Methodically she plucked her phone and car keys from the pockets of her jeans, shoved them into her jacketâs pockets, then took her jacket off to drape it over the railing. For half a second she thought of setting her wallet aside for safekeeping as well, but this was Chicago, after all. She and her wallet would part ways only after her death.
Which, admittedly, might be in the next few minutes.
He looked like he was having trouble getting his jaw rehinged. âYou canât be fucking serious.â
âSince I was twelve years old, the only family Iâve had in this shitty world is Felix and his sister. Iâd do anything for them. You went and fucked with Felix, so that means you fucked with me. Worse yet, Iâm going to be homeless by this time next week if I donât get back that payroll you stole. I literally havenât slept in days, and Iâm probably not thinking too clearlyââ
âYeah, thatâs kinda apparent at this point.â
âAnd,â she plowed on, determinedly ignoring him, âbeating the shit out of you wonât solve a thing. But I guarantee you itâs going to give me a momentâs true happiness in a world thatâs been full of hurt for days on end. Right now, getting that kind of moment is good enough for me.â
He shook his head as if he needed to clear it. âSo⌠basically youâre a ride-or-die chick for this Felix fuckface, is that it?â
âIn a nutshell.â
âThat termâs been hijacked, you know. It used to mean that if bikers couldnât ride and be as free as the wind, theyâd rather be dead. Nowadays it describes women being goddamn idiots for shitbird men who donât deserve that kind of brainwashed loyalty. In other words, you.â
Her eyes widened as her rage bounced up another notch, and the mantra of not losing control slipped away like it had never been. That was what losing control was all about, but she was too lost in it to notice. âOkay. Done talking now. Get your ass over here and take whatâs coming to you.â
âNo thanks.â The bastard had the audacity to yawn. âAs much as I hate to repeat myself, Iâm going to go ahead and repeat myself for you, because youâre sexy as hell, and you seem to be a slow-learner. Ready? Here it is. I. Donât. Hurt. Women. Period. Even when theyâre so fucking stupid, a good slap would probably knock some much-needed sense into their heads.â
Goddamn it. âYou fucked with the only people I have as family. My life is in shambles. You shouldâve thought of the consequences before you pulled any of that shit.â
âThis Felix fuckface guy was the one who didnât think of the consequences, lady. He shouldâve thought of you and your life before he stepped up to me. Obviously, he didnât.â
Her brain shut down. Everything in her shut down. Everything⌠but the Halliday rage. âGet over here.â
âNo.â
Eyes on him, Alice put a hand on the bikeâs chrome ape-hanger handlebars. Grim satisfaction speared through her when he went statue-still.
Hello, Achilles heel.
âLady,â he said, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down her spine. âItâs your turn now to think about consequences, yeah? I donât raise a hand to women, thatâs true. But whether or not youâve got a dick wonât mean fuckinâ shit to me if youâre looking to damage whatâs mine.â
She gave the handlebar an experimental shake, then hesitated. It would take some muscle, but she could push it over. But the pink lady was right; it was clearly the one thing he loved, and enough damage had already been done. In good conscience, she couldnât add to the misery. âGo ahead and try to stop me fromââ
Holy shit, he was fast.
And heâd caught her in the middle of a sentence.
How rude.
It only took a couple steps for him to close the distance between them. As he did, his arms came up like a huge clamp to grab her in a smothering bearhug. She whirled away, keeping her weight on her toes before she dropped and spun into a low sweeping kick, the back of her leg slamming against his booted ankles.
Sheâd executed this sweep kick a thousand times before, both while in taekwondo tournaments and in teaching self-defense classes at Felixâs gym. She knew this move like she knew her own face. But, wow, pitting it against this breathtaking specimen of raw masculinity was something else again. It was like sheâd kicked a tree trunk at its base. The impact of it jarred her so much it rattled her eyes in their sockets.
Holy crap, this guy was solid.
Luckily the ankle sweep did the trickâno doubt because sheâd surprised himâand he went down on his ass. Smoothly she whirled with the momentum sheâd created with the spin kick and struck a defensive pose. If sheâd seen one of her self-defense students acting this way, she would have screamed at them for not running like hell at this point.
But she wasnât trying to get away.
This man had to pay for the misery heâd caused, either in the money heâd stolen, or in blood.
The choice was his.
âLook at that.â The light in his eyes turned savage as he pushed to his booted feet with a fluidity that made her back up another step, her moves light and on her toes. âLittle girlâs got some moves in her bag of tricks.â
âI havenât been little since I was ten.â
âYeah, youâve got the kind of legs that probably looked gawky and ridiculous at that age. Bet all the kids called you names. Stretch, or Baby Giraffe, maybe.â
âStorky Alice, actually. But donât worry about little olâ me. I taught them not to.â
âOh, I bet you did, Alice. Nice, old-fashioned name, by the way,â he went on, his smile a white slash in his beard while he watched her with eyes so strangely hot she felt scorched all over. âGood thing for you Iâve got a weakness for nice old-fashioned names and long, fuck-me-now legs. Good God, woman. Youâre just about perfect, you know that?â
A wave of heat flashed through her that almostâalmostâfelt like alarm. âI just landed you on your finely toned ass, and you call me perfect? You must like it rough.â
âOh, baby, I fuckinâ love it rough. And by the way, Stems, Iâm thrilled you like the look of my ass. Believe me, that feelingâs more than mutual.â
Arrrgh. âJust get over here and take whatâs coming to you.â
âDo I look stupid to you?â
âYou lookâŚâ Hot. Indescribably, overwhelmingly hot, with eyes that were undressing her where she stood, and for some insane reason her brain was hopelessly distracted by it. âPowerful.â
âYou know it.â He outright flexed, showing her without preening just how right she was. âThing is, youâve still got murder in your eyes. And while Iâm crazy enough to find that so fucking hot I can hardly concentrate, Iâm still smart enough to know youâre going to kick me to death with those heart-stopping stems once I get within range. Am I right?â
Shit. âYou sound like you doubt I can do it. Come on over here. Letâs find out.â
âThatâs the problem with pure kickers like you, Stems. Sure, youâve got epic reach and speed, but you donât have the greatest mobility when it comes to fighting, do you? Best fighters are a mongrel mix of wrestling, punching and kicking. Fighters like me.â
Damn him, he was bang-on target. âCome on over here and prove it.â
Again he shook his head. âSee, when youâre a mongrel like me, your opponent never knows which form of attack is going to put youââ
He launched once more, this time interrupting himself. Idiot that she was, she fell for that distracting trick again, and reacted a half-second too late. She tried spinning away toward the main empty space separating the rows of parked cars, and almost made it.
Almost.
He caught her with one arm, and the next thing she knew her feet left the ground. A heartbeat after that, her back slammed the pavement, knocking the breath out of her. That was why it took her a second to realize that her head had hit too, but instead of hitting hard asphalt, it hit something⌠soft.
His hand.
Even as sheâd been flying through the air, heâd clutched the massive mitt of his hand around the back of her head and kept it from splattering against the asphalt like an egg.
What�
Did he actually just⌠save her? From his own attack?
No.
No, that couldnât be.
The man her foster brother had described would never save her from harm. All he did was bring harm to others.
And yetâŚ
His hand was still between her head and the pavement.
He most definitely saved her from a terrible injury.
What the actual fuck.
âYouâre bad at this, Stems.â There was a hint of laughter in his voice, much to her outrage. Torn between that and genuine gratitude that her head wasnât smashed like a melon all over the parking lot, her gaze jerked to his. Something weird fluttered in her chest when she looked into his eyesâonly a handful of inches awayâand discovered they were such a light brown they appeared gold. A heartbeat later she found she couldnât move, with his body holding hers down, and his forearms trapping hers. âProps for your enthusiasm when it comes to caving my head in. I know you wanted to do me some damage, but you were too nice to push over my bike just now. You know what that tells me?â
This guyâs penchant for idle chats at weird moments was something else again. âGet⌠off⌠mother⌠fucker.â
âIt tells me that youâre an inherently nice person. And, as an inherently nice person, youâre always going to be bad at this kind of shit, no matter how many moves youâve got.â He pressed his weight down on her all the more, to show her that moving was something sheâd be allowed to do only when he was in the mood for it. âLeave shit like this to the professional ass-kickers of the world, like me, because nice is one thing Iâm not.â
An infuriated growl seethed out of her as she struggled uselessly to get out from under him. âGet off, you sonofabitch, or Iâll bite your damn nose off!â
When he burst out laughing, she honestly couldnât blame him. Then, just as she gave serious consideration to headbutting him to get him to move, his mouth suddenly landed on hers.
What.
The.
hell.
By degrees, the rasp of his close-cropped beard on her skin and the press of his hard lips against hers seeped into her stunned senses. His touch was warm and vibrant and so overwhelmingly masculine it knocked every thought out of her head. Then it was over, and he was back to grinning down at her.
Like that, the rage inside her vanished without a trace. It was almost as if heâd thrown cold water on her. Or slapped her. OrâŚ
Or kissed her.
Alice blinked, baffled and upset and holy crap, strangely unable to stop from focusing on how she could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers.
She who loses control, loses.
Yeah. That was her, all right.
A total loser.
âThere we go.â He sounded inordinately pleased as he looked down at her, his hammered-gold hair hanging down in a way that seemed to almost curtain off the rest of the world. âThat stopped the bite, or headbutt, or whatever the hell it was you were about to pull. Still wanna kill me?â
âYes.â She shouted it so loudly she hurt her throat, before huffing in a growing sense of soul-crushing humiliation. Dear God, sheâd let her temperâthat murderous Halliday temperâget the better of her, when sheâd never allowed that to happen before. Never. How could she ever forgive herself for this horrible lapse? âExcept I canât. Youâre way more than I can handle.â
âYes, I am. Though, honestly, I doubt thereâs a man alive who can handle you. âCept me, of course.â
With the embarrassment of losing her vaunted cool swallowing her whole, she barely heard him. âI wanted so much to teach you a lesson⌠Damn it.â
âWhat lesson would that be?â
âThe lesson that you canât just screw with peopleâs lives and get away with it. ButâŚâ Again she struggled, hating how hot his thighs were against hers. Honestly, the man could rent himself out during the winter months as an organic space heater. âBut I was the one who got taught a lesson instead.â
âHell, yeah, you did.â
Great. Now he was laughing at her wild-eyed lunacy. She swallowed against the hard knot in her throat and looked away, all too aware that this was what she deserved for losing control of the dreaded Halliday temper. âMaybe I should be grateful I can still walk away⌠And I will walk away, I swear, just as soon as you let me up.â In point of fact, sheâd run, not walk, as far from this place as she could to make sure they never crossed paths again. If she had to call the police to get that payroll back, then fine. But never again would she darken this manâs doorstep.
âHm.â She felt his gaze slide over her for what seemed like forever. âYeah, nah. I donât believe you.â
Her eyes widened before she began struggling in earnest, knowing instinctively that her humiliation over her loss of control was about to find new depths. âGet off of me, youââ
âHereâs the way I see it,â he went on, ignoring her while at the same time refusing to let her go. âEither youâre going to crawl away like a whipped dog, or youâre going to get even more crazy and come at me like some vengeful maniac. I canât have that, Alice, especially here at my place of work.â
Crazy.
Vengeful.
Maniac.
It was like he was trying to punch every button sheâd had burned into her soul from the time she was twelve.
âYou think I want a repeat performance of this?â she gritted out, torn between humiliation and fury. âI lost control, I admit it. Thatâs something thatâs never happened before, and I never want it to happen again.â
A faint frown crossed his face. âWhat are you talking about? You seemed pretty much in control to me.â
âI came here to talk to you, notâŚthis.â She wriggled her trapped arms against his for emphasis. âYouâre obviously too much for me to handle. I might hate your guts for screwing up my life because youâre a selfish, violent asshole thief, but Iâm not about to take you on again. Iâm not frigging suicidal.â
Watching her with that curious frown in place, he slowly shook his head. âTry to understand my position, Stems. First off, youâre continuing to believe that Iâm a thief whoâs taken something from you. I havenât taken a damn thing, but since you think I owe you something, youâre not going to stop until you feel youâve exacted some kind of payment from me.â
âNo, Iââ
âSecondly, youâre the one who challenged me. Because of that, you promising to not be a pain in my ass somewhere down the road isnât going to put my mind at ease, yeah? I need something more than that.â
What the hell could he possibly need from her? âLet me make this perfectly clear. I do not care what you need, because Iâm not a part of your life, and youâre not a part of mine. Let me up, and I swear to everything I hold holy that youâll never see me again.â
âYeah?â
âYes.â God knew she never wanted to see him again. He was a living reminder that she was nothing more than a chip off her fatherâs block.
âHm,â he said again, his head tilting as if in thought. Then he shrugged. âToo bad for you thatâs not what I want.â
She scowled up at him, baffled. âWhat?â
âNever seeing you again is not what I want. What I want is an even playing field.â
âWhat does that even mââ Before she could finish the question, he was up on his feet and pulling her to a standing position as well. The moment she was vertical, she turned and began to walk away, only to be grabbed from behind. A massive, muscled arm slashed diagonally across her torso like a seatbelt, his forearm between her breasts and his hand clamped hard on her shoulder. Automatically she stomped down on his foot with her heel, then groaned when it felt like sheâd stomped down on a rock.
Damn those steel-toed biker boots.
âEven playing field, Stems,â he said again, his mouth close to her ear. âYou know way more about me than I know about you, but thatâs about to change.â To her outrage, his hand groped her ass. In an instant she bucked, first trying to elbow him in the ribs, then crouching and trying to flip him over her own back. He seemed to know every trick she had and evaded every time. Then, just when she started to panic, she felt a tug at her back pocket before she was abruptly released. In an instant, she whirled around with a roundhouse kickâwhich he deftly avoided. He barely even looked at her, his attention instead on the wallet he held.
Her wallet.
Oh, no.
âWell, well. Hello there, Alice Kathleen Halliday, aged twenty-three,â he read out loud, then shot a frown her way. âWhatâs a good Irish girl like you doing with an apartment in Little Italy? You are Irish, right? According to your pictures here, you really go all out for Chicagoâs annual St. Paddyâs Day festivities. Looks like you and I both have a fondness for green beer. Gotta love our hometownâs traditions, am I right?â
Fucking⌠fucker. âGive that back, youââ
âLoki.â The metal door leading into House of Payne slammed open, and suddenly the pink woman was there, hands on hips and death in her eyes. âWork. Now.â
âAh. Looks like Mom got worried about me getting all handsy with you, Alice.â Plucking his phone from his back pocket, he took a picâno doubt of her driverâs licenseâbefore he threw the wallet back to her. âBut since she obviously set this meeting up between the two of us, she doesnât have anything to bitch about. Do you, Scout?â
The pink woman, Scout, didnât blink. âDonât you make me fucking repeat myself.â
âSee that, Alice? That right there is how to be genuinely scary. You should take notes.â With an unrepentant grin, he headed in Scoutâs direction, only to detour to pick up the jacket Alice had draped over the railing. âYours, right?â
Alice stepped forward, hand out. âYes.â
âNot anymore.â With a shrug, he moved toward the door. âYou want it back, meet me tonight at midnight outside Lyric Operaâs main entrance. Donât be late.â
Oh, shit. âWait, my car keys and phone are in thereââ
But he was already gone.
âLike I said,â Scout offered after a moment, looking remarkably unsympathetic. âStupid. From this point on, especially now that youâre on Lokiâs radar, you might want to live a smarter life. Being TSTLâtoo stupid to liveâdoesnât fly here at the House, Alice Halliday.â
With that pearl of wisdom dropping like an anvil on Aliceâs head, Scout went back into the building with a sassy swirl of petticoats.
***
There you go! HOUSE OF PAYNE: LOKI will be releasing in the next 24-48 hours, so be sure to look for this Gravedigger bad boy. He may have gotten swept off his feet–literally!–by his Alice, but this protective Alpha male is certain to sweep YOU off your feet! (And if there’s anyone out there who loves a good grovel from a powerful male, this is DEFINITELY the book for you.)
Black Friday Sale PLUS An Update!
Happy Thanksgiving for those who celebrate! As much as I love Turkey Day, my favorite time of the yearâBlack Fridayâis almost here! *happy dance*
To celebrate, HOUSE OF PAYNE: PAYNE, HOUSE OF PAYNE: SCOUT, HOUSE OF PAYNE: TWIST, and BRUISED will be on sale for $0.99 from Friday through Monday–yay!


Itâs the most wonderful time of the year to fill your ereader or the ereader of your loved ones with all the hot Alpha male goodness my heroes have to offer. Donât hesitate on that one-clickingâthis sale ends Monday!
Also, quick update status on HOUSE OF PAYNE: LOKI. Iâm about halfway through (Chapter 11 of an estimated 20 chapters). I was hoping to be a bit further along, but I got hit with a virus that turned into bronchitis and a double ear infection, so that slowed me down a bit (like, a lot). Iâm still hoping for a late January release. Fingers crossed!
After LOKI, Iâm already blocking out chapters for the final book in the Brody Brothers series, BROKEN. The biggest problem has been getting the right feeling for the heroine, but I think Iâve got that hammered out. Iâm getting excited for Desâs story, so fleshing out his lady-love has been a real bonus.
I hope your Thanksgiving Day is filled with good food, good friends, happy family and memory-making moments that fill you with warmth and joy. Iâm thankful for each and every one of you, my readers, and Iâm thankful for the opportunity to entertain you with the greatest thing in the worldâlove everlasting!
CHECK OUT THE 1st CHAPTER OF HOUSE OF PAYNE: STYX!

I’m so excited to share Styx and Sydney’s story with you all, and it’s going to happen tomorrow! But I thought I’d give a little sneak peek of STYX’s first chapter NOW, because I’m funny like that. đ Enjoy!
Gonna die, gonna die, gonna die.
Sydneyâs hands were slick on her beloved Pokeyâs steering wheel, and she threw another terrified glance at the rearview mirror.
The dark Caddy with no plates accelerated so fast all she could see was the carâs grill.
Ramming speed.
âOh God, no.â She floored Pokeyâs accelerator as hysteria-edged breaths panted out of her. She thoughtâprayedâshe saw an opening in the traffic in the lane next to her. If she could just get off the freeway, she might have a chance of bringing this insane car chase to an end.
Why is this happening? Dear God, why?
She didnât know.
Too bad she couldnât stop and ask them.
Blindly she groped for the phone sheâd left in her purse on the passenger seat. She cried in relief when she found it almost immediately and started dialing 911, only to drop the device when she had to grab the steering wheel to avoid hitting an idiotic car that cut in front of her.
Damn it.
Okay, screw the police, she thought, gripping the wheel with both hands once more while tears of frustration dripped down her face. Sheâd get herself to safety before calling them for help. The right lane next to her was clear. She could move over. The two lanes after that, though, were full of midday workers either going to or coming back from lunchâ
A crunch of metal on metal ripped a scream from her even as her poor car fishtailed with the vicious bump from behind. She almost lost control as her trusty Camry tried to deal with the rear impact while going eighty down I-90.
âGo straight, go straight,â she screamed at her car, knowing with a clairvoyant-like clarity what would happen if she was forced sideways at that speed. Her car would flip, the roof of the car would crush in like a soda can, and there would be no livable space within the carâs interior.
In short, sheâd die a grisly death.
It seemed to take forever to get Pokey back under control, but at last she got it, her icy hands wrapped around the steering wheel so hard they hurt. Just as she sent fervent thanks out to whatever guardian angels she had, she spotted a sign for a familiar exit.
Goose Island. Division Street.
Screw it.
She was done with waiting for people to kill her.
If she was going to die, it was going to be because she was trying to live, and not waiting for death to come get her.
With another scream tearing out of her, Sydney hit the brakes and wrenched the wheel sharply to the right, flew across four lanes of traffic, and shot onto the exit ramp. In her wake, the sound of screeching tires and blaring horns filled her ears.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â She didnât care that the words were useless. They gave her comfort, because unlike the people chasing her, she had no intention of hurting anyone.
For a moment she was weightless as her car zoomed down the steep off-ramp. Then Pokey landed so heavily the undercarriage bottomed out and there was another horrible metallic crunching. She blew through a yellow-to-red light, turning a hard right amidst another symphony of car horns, but she didnât bother to look at whatever she left in her wake.
The only thing that mattered now was escaping whoever was trying to murder her.
Home, her brain pounded at her, but logic overrode the instinct to hole up in what had always been a comfy, safe space. Home was one place she absolutely couldnât go. The last thing she wanted to do was lead her attackers to her door. Bad enough they obviously knew what her car looked like. If they knew where she lived, she might as well get her final affairs in order.
What a nightmare.
In the minutes it took to shoot through Goose Island toward her neighborhood of Old Town, she racked her brain trying to figure out where she could go. A police station would have been ideal, but since sheâd never been in this kind of trouble, she had no idea where the nearest station was. Second choice was getting pulled over by a cop for going sixty on a surface street, but clearly the old saying was trueâthere was never a cop around when you needed one.
Naturally.
Then she saw it.
A flash of a dark-colored car in her rearview mirror.
Wait.
Shit, was that the Caddy?
She wasnât going to hang around to find out.
With her heart in her throat, Sydney swerved off Division Street, zigzagged randomly through the cross streets to wind up facing the other way on Division. With her dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree and something smoking under the hood, she parked in a lot in front of the strip mall located across the street from her apartment building.
It wasnât home, but it was close.
The heavy humidity of an unusually warm autumn day slapped at Sydney the moment she dashed out of her smoking car, but she barely noticed as she tried to figure out what to do next. Again, her instinct was to run to a place where she knew was safe. Her best friend, Zemi, had a yoga studio, OMMniscience, tucked right in the middle of the strip mall, so maybe she could go there. Or maybe she should run into Edibles, the donut shop next to the studio, where she and Zemi usually landed after yoga class.
But to go to a place connected to her in any way could prove dangerous for everyone involved.
So no OMMniscience, and no Edibles.
But she couldnât just stand there.
Without another thought, she sprinted past the strip mall and around the corner, eyes open wide for a random place to hide. The flash of light on a glass door as it slowly swung shut snagged her attention. Without another thought, she zipped through the glass door and into the high-rise buildingâs vestibule.
And crashed into a solid something that almost had her bouncing back out through the door.
âWhoa, lady.â Hands shot out to stabilize her even as a handful of mail scattered to the black and white tiled floor. âWhere the hellâs the fire?â
âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry.â Out of breath and terrified she was going to throw up, Sydney glanced back through the glass door only to see a dark Cadillacâoh Geez, was that the same one? âdrive by. âOh my God, hide.â
âAre you fucking crazy?â the solid object demanded, but she didnât listen as she grabbed him by his dark T-shirt and yanked him sharply to one side of the door with all the might she had in her 5â2â frame. For good measure she pivoted so that his back was to the glass door while she huddled as small as she could against him so that she was shielded by his rangy, solid body.
Any port in a storm.
âWhat. The. Hell.â The voice was aggravated, gruff, but he didnât jump back or try to push her away. Instead arms came around her, and strangely, that feeling of being in a safe port while a storm raged around her increased. âJesus. Youâre shaking like a leaf.â
âIâm sorry. Iâm so sorry.â Apparently these were the only words her freaked-out brain was capable of producing. At least it was better than screaming.
He started to turn his head to look outside the glass door. âWhat are you so afraiââ
âDonât look.â Hastily she reached up and yanked his head back aroundâŚ
And looked into the face of the man sheâd been drooling over for the past two months.
OhâŚ
MyâŚ
God.
Every Thursday and Sunday, Sydney made sure she was at Market Place grocery store, ostensibly to work. But in actuality, she did her best to keep an avid lookout out for this delicious specimen of a man, who usually could be found putting a major dent in the frozen pizzas.
While he had dubious taste in food, the rest of him was perfectionâshort brown hair several shades darker than her own, strong dark brows that hooded pale blue eyes with long lashes, and a mouth that turned up at the corners even when fully relaxed. But even more fascinating than his riveting face was his ink.
The man was a walking work of art.
Literally.
His black T-shirt, emblazoned with the words House Of Payne, exposed muscular arms covered with tattoos all the way down to his wrists. His neck also sported some ink, just glimpses of colorful art peeking out from under his shirtâs neckline. Sheâd never been this close to him, so she hadnât known about that intriguing art going up his neck. For a totally inappropriate second she wondered what she needed to do to get him to take his shirt off so she could get an even closer look.
Then she shook her head. Wow. She must be suffering some weird sort of nervous breakdown to wonder such a thing at a time like this.
âItâs okay.â He looked down at herâway down, since sheâs pretty much stopped growing around the age of thirteenâand gave her a smile that would have charmed the Devil himself. âYouâre safe, all right? You got a boyfriend or something thatâs hunting you down? I can take care of that shit, no worries.â
âNo, I donât have a boyfriend or anything like that.â Just to be on the safe side, she pulled him up against the wall, where all the apartment buildingâs mailboxes were located, and out of direct line of sight. âItâs the Brisket Bandit posse.â
He slow-blinked. âUhâŚwhat?â
âIâm a secret shopper for Market Place grocery store, though thatâs a secret, so donât tell anyone. Otherwise Iâd just be a shopper, not a secret one, and Iâd certainly lose my Employee of the Month status if everyone knew I was a secret shopper.â Very carefully Sydney chanced a quick peek over his shoulder, then ducked back when a chatting couple walked by. Eek. âI finally caught the Brisket Bandit. Only come to find out, heâs not a solo act. Heâs got a posse, and he sent them after me to murder me with their car.â
âSlow down.â Again he glanced over his shoulder, then gave her a look that clearly doubted her sanity. âA secret who? The brisket what? Wait, donât answer,â he said when she opened her mouth to fill in the blanks. âI just need to know one thing. Are you supposed to be taking medication for anything? No judgment, I have impulse-control issues, so I know how it can be. Iâm just wondering if youâve missed a dose.â
For crying out loud⌠âSecret shoppers are employed by retailers to blend in with other shoppers, and weâre trained to spot shoplifters. Market Place has had a problem with big-ticket items disappearing, like brisket. Thatâs why this particular thief got branded with the name Brisket Bandit.â
âCatchy.â
âThank you. Iâm, uh, the one who made it up,â she added, while her face got hot. Great. Now she was babbling. Who cared about what name sheâd slapped on her target? âAnyway, itâs taken a while, and we almost caught him over Labor Day weekend at the South Loop Market Place store a couple weeks back, but he got away before the cops could arrive.â
âSo you work as a secret shopper slash undercover copââ
âOh, no. Iâm not a cop. I mean, I donât carry a gun, or anything like that.â
âIâm thinking you should.â Putting her firmly in the corner of the vestibule and out of sight, he bent to pick up his scattered mail, all the while keeping a sharp eye on the door. âSo you work way the hell and gone down south, and these assholes chased you all the way up to Old Town?â
âI usually work at the Market Place store a few blocks from here.â What she didnât mention was that was where sheâd secretly perved all over him whenever he showed up on his frozen pizza shopping days. âI was subbing for another secret shopper who was out sick at a Market Place store over in South Loop. Thatâs where I finally caught the Brisket Bandit a couple hours ago. I did everything by the book, and I even had the police there waiting for me to run him out of the store right into their waiting arms, so heâs officially wrapped up and taken care of. Little did I know he had a crew watching and waiting for me in the parking lot. They saw me chase their guy, and decided to go after me on the freeway. I donât even get why. I mean, Iâm not the one who tackled him, slapped the handcuffs on him and carted him off to jail. The police did all that. Whatâs more, taking their anger out on me isnât going to change anything. Why go after me?â
âBecause theyâre stupid, but not stupid enough to go after cops. A secret shopper like you is easy pickings. That pisses me off.â
âSorry.â Belatedly she bent and gathered up the last of his dropped mail. âIâm really sorry Iâm bothering you like this.â
âStop apologizing, you havenât done anything wrong. You got a name?â
âSydney. Sydney Bishop.â She handed him his mail and tried to smile when all she felt like doing was bursting into freaked-out hysterics. âHi.â
âHi, Sydney Bishop. Terrance Hardwick, though everyone calls me Styx, except my mother.â His eyes never left hers as he took the mail from her. âYou live in this building, Syd?â
Syd. That was cute. âI actually live across the street, in the red brick building with all those gorgeous big industrial windows. See?â Carefully she peeped through the glass door and pointed at her second-story window. âI just didnât want to lead them right to my doorstep.â
âSo you thought youâd lead them to mine? Kidding,â he chuckled when his statement filled her with such horror she gasped. âIf they come here, theyâll get a helluva lot more than they ever bargained for. Not only do I know how to take care of assholes who like terrorizing women, but my familyâs lousy with cops.â Rising from his crouch, he held out his hand to her. âOne phone call, and Iâve got just about every hard case with a badge over here ready to defend you. Thatâs how my family rolls.â
âThatâs great.â Sliding her hand into his, she slowly rose to her full height, and all the while she couldnât seem to stop looking at him. Which wasnât unusual when it came to her grocery store guy. From the moment sheâd spotted him tossing frozen pizzas into his cart by the armload, she hadnât been able to keep her eyes off him. âMy familyâs not at all like that.â
âLike what?â
âSupportive. If youâre not figuring out a way to make space travel fun and convenient for the masses, or winning a place on the Olympic team, then youâre ignored because youâre failing at life.â Too late, she bit her lip. Since when had she decided that sharing the pitiful low points of her life was a good way to flirt? She wouldnât blame him if he ran for the nearest exit.
His dark brows shot up. âYour familyâs into space travel⌠and the Olympics?â
âAccording to my parents, a goal isnât worth aiming for unless youâre aiming for the very top.â
âAnd I thought my familyâs expectations were bad.â He cocked his head toward the sweeping lobby beyond an interior set of automatic glass doors. âYou wanna come in and take a load off while I make a couple calls? You could say Iâve got the heart of Chicago PD on speed dial.â
âUmâŚâ She looked into the lobby, not sure if he was inviting her into the building, or up to his place. At first glance, being invited up to her grocery store guyâs place was all sorts of awesome, but the fact was he was a stranger. He might be her idea of yummy, but that didnât mean he wasnât an ax murderer. âIâve been too much trouble already. Iâll just hop across the street, get myself calmed down with a nice cup of tea, and call the police from there. At the very least, Iâve got to get them out here so they can take a look at the damage that was done to my poor Pokey and make a report.â
âPokey?â
âMy car. I name cars,â she added, then wondered if she had survived I-90 only to die of embarrassment at the feet of her grocery store guy. âI think itâs clear at this point that Iâm easily amused.â
He took this in with a shake of the head. âYouâre not walking across the street alone, Syd. Anything happens to you, thatâs on me.â
Like that, the fear and dread flooded back in. âI canât let you do that. For all I know, theyâre right outside, waiting to run me over.â
âCalm down.â To her surprise, he reached out and hooked a strong hand around the nape of her neck. âWhatâd the car look like?â
âIt, uhâŚâ For some reason, it was hard to think with that warm, strong hand branding itself into her flesh. âA dark Cadillac sedan, dark gray or black. No license plate. It should have front-end damage because they rammed poor Pokey when we were on the freeway. If that car is waiting outside, weâre all going to die, so you are definitely not going out there with me. Iâll chance it alone.â She could dash across the street without getting hit. Probably.
Again, he shook his head as he let his hand drop. Thatâs very brave of you.â
âThank you.â
âAnd unbelievably stupid.â
âUmâŚnot thank you?â
âWeâre not going to go playing in the street when thereâs someone out there using their car as a fucking murder weapon.â With his mail clenched in one hand, his free hand grabbed hers. Before she was over the oddly delightful shock of his hand holding hers, he was dragging her through the automatic glass doors that led into the lobby. âI donât have tea, but I make a mean cup of coffee, and I can get any number of cops you want here within the next five minutes. Iâm not letting you go out there until I know youâre safe.â
âButââ
âNo buts. Elevators are over here around the security deskââ
âLook, I just need to know one thing. Are you an ax murderer?â
That stopped him cold. âWhat?â
âIâve had a hell of a day,â she said on a sigh, and she wasnât surprised to see her free hand shake before she dragged it through her hair. âCatching the Brisket Bandit, nearly dying at eighty miles per hour on I-90, and then crashing headlong into youâŚâ My crush for the past couple of months. âI just need to know Iâm not jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, because thatâs pretty much how my luck has been today.â
âAh, got it. You want assurances that Iâve never killed anyone with an ax.â
âOr any other implement. Iâm not picky about details.â
âUh-huh.â Without letting her go, he turned to the security desk, a good twenty feet away, sucked in a breath, and bellowed out, âYo, Marty! Vouch for me, yeah? Lady here is worried Iâm an ax murderer. Am I an ax murderer?â
An older man who strongly reminded her of Stan Lee leaned over the desk to get a good look at them. âNot that I know of. Why? Is she an ax murderer, and maybe she wants to meet like-minded people?â
âThatâs a good question.â Turning back to her, the man known as Styx lowered his voice while Sydney gaped at them. âAre you an ax murderer?â
She shook her head, amazed that the majority of the people in the lobby ignored them, casually going about their business as if having a yelled-across-the-lobby conversation about ax murderers was a perfectly normal event. âYou just yelled about murder in public.â
âItâs cool. Martyâs a retired badge and has seen it all when it comes to this city. Not to mention he used to be my dadâs partner when they were both in uniform, so he knows to just roll with whatever impulsive shit I toss his way. So? You an ax murderer?â
Wow. âI once killed a spider when I felt it crawling on my arm, but I swear it was an accident. I still feel guilty about it.â
âSpiders get my boot, with no guilt, but thatâs about as scary as I get. Thatâs a promise, Syd. Okay?â
She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then took a leap of faith. âOkay.â
PRE-ORDER LINKS:â â â â â â
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HOUSE OF PAYNE: STYX Cover Reveal, Blurb and Release Date!
I’m so excited to finally share the cover and blurb for HOUSE OF PAYNE: STYX!
Fun fact: the cover I’m about to reveal is actually the second cover created for this project. The first one didn’t have the visual impact that I was going for, so I took another stab at it.
Gotta say, I’m pleased with how STYX turned out.
Very pleased. đ

HOUSE OF PAYNE: STYX
Sydney used to make plans. All her life sheâd trained to be a ballerina, but that âplanâ had turned out to be nothing more than a pipe dream. Reality now consisted of hunting down petty thieves and refusing to make any more pie-in-the-sky plans for her life. Thatâs why she never approaches the sexiest man sheâs ever laid eyes on. Never again would she be crushed by pointless dreams.
Fate, however, had plans for her.
Styx Hardwick isnât big on plans. As a tattooist at House Of Payne, heâs the black sheep in a family full of pragmatic cops. Now that his twin brotherâs getting hitched, all eyes turn to him, the last of the single Hardwick siblings. Getting through his twinâs wedding is gonna be hell.
Or so he thinks.
When a pocket-sized goddess crashes into him with terror in her eyes, Styxâs world turns upside-down. Even scared out of her mind, Sydney is still the hottest thing to have ever graced his life. He offers her a dealâpretend to be his girlfriend until the wedding, while he does his damnedest to protect her from the danger closing in.
As a plan, itâs almost foolproof.
Almost.
92,000 words
***This standalone contemporary romance contains mild violence, a dash of instalove, and multiple sex scenes in lots of fun and possibly gravity-defying positions. No cheating, no love triangles, no cliffhangers. HEA guaranteed. Due to adult language and sexual content, this book is not intended for people under the age of eighteen***
The release date for HOUSE OF PAYNE: STYX is September 19th, 2019. Follow me on Twitter, Instagram (my favorite, heh) and Facebook for updates! ⤠|