Sneak Peek! Firetrap is almost here!

Okay, we're taking a brief break from sexy jinns and genies to focus on sexy, brawny, bad-ass bikers!

The Scorched Souls serial-series is my latest project. Book one, Firetrap, releases in May. Pre-order and release date information coming soon. So in lieu of this latest endeavor, how about a tantalizing teaser to heat things up?

First, how many of you remember the movie, Overboard, starring Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell? 

Yes, it was a 1980's flick (1987 to be exact). I found it funny and endearing. The idea of a stereotypical rich bitch losing her memory and being tricked into "wife-hood" by a down-to-earth, rough-around-the-edges man and his boys, was an intriguing premise.  The dark humor and romance made it a hit.If you haven't watched it, you should. 

Now, imagine that movie, Overboard, meeting the scorching hot FX television series, Sons of Anarchy, and you have The Scorched Souls serial-series. In other words, the dark humor and romance is there, but there are dark themes, including BDSM elements, naughty language, and a ton of suspense and mystery too.

You can expect four books between 80 and 140 pages each in length. 

1. Firetrap
2. Fire Fight
3. Firestorm
4. Fireworks

They will release six to eight weeks apart, possibly faster. The price will NEVER go above $1.99. I've seen some serial series start out free or $.99 and end up at $2.99 or $3.99. Not happening here! The first book will release at $.99 with some great promos to come. 

So, now that the logistics are out of the way, here is a teaser from the main character, Olympia Olsen's Point of View:

Olympia

I slipped into my teeniest bikini, eager to spend the day lounging by the pool in the sun. After last night, I’d decided the best place for me was far away from the supposed civilized biker my dad had hired. The men at Milton’s had been anything but civilized, especially the one who’d bent the bartender over in front of everyone.

Of course it would have to be him. He’d watched me the whole time he was plowing into her. I should have been appalled, but I’d been turned on.

When I’d peeled my panties off before bed, I’d been horrified to find them soaked. I’d never been that wet, not even during my heaviest make out sessions with Conner.  Ever since the day the biker had helped put out the fire, he’d occupied my thoughts and dominated my dreams. Conner, as attractive as he was, couldn’t keep my attention. He paled in comparison to the biker, who was steamy sex on a stick.

I glanced at my engagement ring. It would get better once we were actually married. It had to, right?

“Miss Olsen, your carpenter has arrived,” the new housekeeper called from outside my closed door, keeping me from answering the one question I was certain I wouldn’t like the answer to.

Regardless of my worries, I was going to marry Conner. I’d just caught a case of cold feet. I wasn’t the first bride to experience pre-wedding jitters, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last. At least my walk down the aisle was a good year away.

“Miss Olsen…” she started again.

“I heard you the first time. Tell him I’ll be ready in a minute. He’s early.” I was tempted to send him away.

My head hurt from all the free dinks I’d consumed during my girls night out, and sleep had been elusive. Images of one strong-as-steel biker had kept me up all night. He might have been physically fucking the skanky bartender, but mentally it was about me. A blind man could have seen that. And I wanted him to take me the way he had her, hard and fast. For a virgin, I had no problem in the fantasy department, and my toy collection had kept me busy exploring.

Pushing the away the filthy thoughts, I planned my day.

Once I explained my vision for the bathroom, I would escape to my poolside lounge chair. Maybe the sun’s warmth would lull me to sleep. Though with my luck, I’d dream about the infuriating man; my desires would find their way right into dreamland.

“James!” I yelled at my bodyguard slash butler. He waited just outside my bedroom door. “I need you.”

As always, he entered without delay. He knew better than to keep me waiting. “Yes, Miss Olsen? What can I do for you?”

“That carpenter…escort him up here, and then get my pool supplies ready. And call me, Olympia. I hate Miss. How many times do I need to remind you?"

He inclined his head and left to carry out my orders, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

My dad had hired him and my housekeeper to go with the new house. He’d managed to pick the perfect staff; loyal, dedicated, and willing to tolerate my treatment no matter how bitchy and bossy I was. I didn’t doubt he was paying them way more than what they would make elsewhere, which was a green light for me to do what I wanted. I would make sure they earned their salaries.

I hurried over to open the doors to my private balcony. Stepping outside, I gazed down at the pool, its water shimmering in the morning sunlight. My chase was waiting, towels, lotion, and a mini ice chest next to it. Apparently James had already anticipated my wishes.

He’d been hired a month before the house was complete and had already figured out how to foresee my needs, discovering the hard way what happened when he didn’t.

I smiled to myself. Another man under my thumb, just the way I liked it.

“Olympia, this is Mr. Richards,” James announced from behind.

Just great, I hadn’t put on my cover up; which meant, Mr. Richards, AKA biker carpenter, was getting a very intimate view of my ass.

My favorite bikini bottom, as Conner liked to point out, was just a thin strip of material that rested between my butt cheeks, not an actual swimsuit bottom. Though, despite his complaints, he loved to tease me and referred to me as Cheeky when I wore it. A teeny triangle made up the front, leaving little to the imagination.

Mr. Richards cleared his throat.

“My cover, James?”

He handed it over in a blink. I still couldn’t get over how fast he moved. Thankfully, I was now hidden beneath the silk. I cinched the belt and turned to face my newest worker, prepared to put him in his place.

When he met my gaze, a wicked grin spread across his handsome face. “Olympia Olsen,” he drawled. “Nice to see you again, so soon.”

I released a puff of air and sputtered, “You! You’re not doing my bathroom. No way. Send someone else.”

“Is there a problem, sugar?” My dad entered the bedroom, surprising me. “I just wanted to make sure…”

“Make sure what? That I could handle my own construction project.” I turned my shock and fury at seeing the man who’d kept me awake all night and was now standing in my bedroom with a tool belt slung from his hips onto my dumbstruck father.

Mr. Richards raised a brow, challenging me. If I complained about his behavior last night, my dad and fiancé would know where I’d been drinking. Something that wasn’t acceptable. Conner would lose it. Having me hanging out at some dive bar didn’t look good for his political aspirations. 

As for the burly biker who’d invaded my dreams, there was no way I was letting him intimidate me. This was a simple business transaction. No reason to get upset. I’d overreacted. James was by my side, hovering protectively. All I had to do was explain what I wanted and disappear poolside.

So what if he was wearing a black t-shirt that strained across his chest, clinging to his hard contours and defined abs. If I could just stop staring, I’d be fine. Besides, it didn’t matter what he looked like, he was wrong for me in every way.

Even so, I couldn’t help but admire the way his tattooed arms flexed when he crossed them. It was undeniably impressive.

 Not a problem. I’d just keep my eyes off his bulging biceps. I could do that.

With renewed resolve, I tore my gaze away from his body, only to be rewarded by his smug, knowing expression that had me questioning my sanity.

“Olympia,” my dad pressed, pulling me from my appraisal. “I never doubted your ability to explain your vision. I just wanted to make sure things were off to a good start. Remember, I hired Mr. Richards.”

“Indeed you did,” I muttered. “Daddy, go to work. James is here with me. I’ll be fine.”

He walked over and kissed the top of my head. “See you at dinner, sweetie. Mr. Richards, I trust you will exceed my daughter’s expectations. This project is very important to her.”

“Oh, I have no doubt I will exceed any and every expectation your daughter has.”

My dad nodded and left, missing, or choosing to ignore, the way the biker’s gaze devoured me. I shivered despite the sun’s warmth beating on my back through the open balcony doors.

This was going to be a long, long day. 

 
I hope you enjoyed this brief snapshot. Let me know what you think, and don't forget to pick up a copy of Bottle Banished: Dreaming of Genie. If you like bad boy bikers, you'll love the bad jinns in Bottle Banished.

Until next time, happy reading!