“Ripple Effect: Episode Two (A Dark Hitman Erotic Romance)” by Keri Lake #ChapterReveal


Coming March 10th


EPISODE TWO: As a calculated assassin, Ripley thrives on always being in control. But when the woman he’s sworn to kill makes an offer he can’t refuse, his control is what he risks losing most.

They call me RIP.
I’m a killer. A murderer. A psychopath.
In the eyes of the righteous, I’m a monster, born of sin and depravity.
I want to protect her, but I’m not a good man.
I want to love her, but I no longer feel.
She gets under my skin, though, and has awakened something inside of me.
Something I’d kill for.
I’m not her savior—not even close. In fact, I’m worse than the hell she’s already suffered.
I’m her vengeance. Tit for tat, as they say.
And if she’s not careful, I’ll be her ruin.


For months, I’ve watched him.
I’ve fantasized him as my savior, my lover. My ticket out of the hell I’ve lived in for the last six years.
I never dreamed he’d be my nightmare.
Had I known what he really is, I’d have never gotten in the car that night, but life is full of cause and effect.
And sometimes the choice on offer isn’t a choice at all.
It’s the result of something already in motion, and we’re merely left to survive the ripple effect.

*This is an erotic suspense/erotic romance not recommended for readers under the age of 18 due to graphic violence and sex.



Drip.  Drip.  Drip.
My mind fights the all-consuming blackness closing in on me as I lay on the thin mattress whose springs poke into my back.  The beams above me shiver with dust that falls on my face every time he walks overhead. Chains beat against the cement wall I’m tethered to with every tremble that wracks my body.
Drip.  Drip.  Drip.  
Somewhere water leaks an incessant pounding in my skull, and I count every drop.  Six hundred thirty-eight.  Six hundred thirty-nine.  Six hundred forty.  A cold, moldy scent invades my nose, and the cough that rattles my chest turns into a gag, staving off the impending black hole I’m being sucked inside.  
He stole my pills, and what feels like shards of broken glass rolling inside of my stomach keep me from falling asleep.  Not that I want to sleep.  Not that I could.  But I need to, because the pain is too much.  It claws my insides like a beast, desperate for escape, demanding more of the sweet venom, the nothingness that keeps it tucked deep inside of me.  Muscle spasms create a line of tension through my body, so taut, I feel like my limbs will snap away.  
“Help me!  Fucking help me!”  My words bounce back at me from the walls, all hoarse and scratchy as though I’ve been screaming for days.  Have I?  I’ve blacked out a few times, only to wake to that dripping noise and the incessant pain.
I’m sweating in spite of the frigid tendrils that snake beneath my skin like frost crystals.  My body shivers and sickness twists my insides into a nauseating roil, threatening to climb my throat any second.  
I need my pills.  
“Please!”  I turn my head in time to expel the bile shooting up my throat.  Fire trails behind it as the acids burn my nostrils with another heave.  Over and over, I choke, head slung awkwardly to the side as the fluids leak down my cheek.  A coughing fit steals my next breath and another round of bile splashes on the floor somewhere beside me.
An ache throbs in my skull as I lay back onto the bed and the churning in my stomach intensifies.  The sensation of bugs scampering across my arms jerks my muscles, and I shiver at the crawling of my skin.  I cry out, kicking against my binds.  “Get off of me! Get off!”  It doesn’t go away, though.  It intensifies, a nightmare come to life, and I’m certain there are spider legs beating against my flesh, digging, attempting to burrow themselves into my bones.  “Get off of me!  Oh God, get them off of me!”
Urgency tugs at my gut.  I need to use the bathroom more than I ever have and the panic sends me kicking and screaming.  Bloating in my stomach balloons and the pressure to release has me arching up off the mattress.  No, no, no.  Please not this.
I’m going to soil the goddamn bed and be forced to sleep in my own filth.
Everything flicks to blackness.
In dreams, I’m carried into a bathroom, my whole body quaking and jerking.  I want to get away, but comfort blankets me in the warmth of the stranger’s arms and the heat of his skin as I lay against his solid chest.  A harsh and blinding light beats down on me.  Focusing through the glare, I stare at a set of angel wings inked across his chest and a crisp orange scent that is both delicious and nauseating overwhelms my senses.  My stomach feels light when he sets me down and the heat washes over me in waves of bliss.  Soft cotton trails down my temple as he wipes a washcloth over my face.
He pushes the wet strands of hair from my eyes, and my breathing calms, as I stare into the multi-colored eyes of a monster.


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Keri Lake is a married mother of two living in Michigan. By day, she tries to make use of the degrees she’s earned in science. By night, she writes dark contemporary, paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Though novels tend to be her focus, she also writes short stories and flash fiction on the many occasions distraction sucks her into the Land of Shiny Things.

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“Amnesia (A Psychological Thriller)” by Kylie Hillman #BlogTour



Special Release week price 99c




Amnesia, a Psychological Thriller

Dr. Jaxon Ray has only ever wanted one woman. He’s loved her from afar since their Junior School days, worshiping the ground she walks on, intent on having her for his own when the time is right.
Amber St. George isn’t interested in the trappings that come with her family’s wealth. A simple life as a teacher at an underprivileged school, a comfortable home with her lover, and good friends; that’s all she desires.
Once Jax decides it’s time to take what’s his, Amber finds herself at the mercy of a madman. A sociopath with access to the latest neurological advancements, who possesses the ability to use her own mind to keep her captive. Programmed to forget. Reprogrammed as her captor’s perfect partner. Amber’s left with medically-induced amnesia and no idea that she’s in for the fight of her life.
When the people who know you’re missing aren’t on your side, and the love of your life has been led to believe that you’ve turned your back on him, is rescue possible? When you can’t remember the real you, is escape even on the cards?
DISCLAIMER: This story contains triggering content and is not suitable for all readers, especially those under eighteen years of age.



“Baby, I need you to come,” Jax groans as he thrusts his hard cock into me. My hands hold tight to his shoulders, my nails digging into his wet skin. The cold tiles that my back rests upon adds an extra lick of spice to our encounter. Shower sex, I decide, is my very favourite.
Although, sex on the loveseat in his office, slow lovemaking by the heated indoor swimming pool, and even that quickie we had yesterday where he bent me over the kitchen counter and took me from behind could be better. I guess, I’ll have to keep letting him have his way with me like he has every day during the past week so I can pick my true favourite.
“Jax, faster.”
My demand is answered a second later. He slams into my body with increased speed, sending me further up the wall until the only thing keeping me upright is his unbelievable strength. I hook my leg around his hip, sliding a hand down my tummy until my fingers reach my clit. Using two fingers, I add the pressure that I need to come with sure strokes.
“So Goddamned sexy.” Jax’s gaze is fixed on the spot where our bodies join—where my fingers dance for his titillation. “I can feel you getting close. Your pussy is gripping me tight, your walls refusing to let me go. That’s your beautiful body telling me that you want me to stay inside you forever.”
I throw my head back, a groan falling form my lips when I discover that he’s right. My body is starting to spasm around him. Waves of ecstasy build until I can’t take any more. I crash over the edge into a soul-sucking orgasm that has my man’s name bouncing off the walls as I scream it in delight.
Jax slumps over me after he’s reached his own release. Our hearts pound in unison. Chests heaving. Our skin damp from the water that cascades behind us, our shower forgotten during our passionate joining.
“I love you,” my words are indistinct, mumbled, lost as they are in the mad rush of emotion that’s flowing within me. Although, Jax knows what I’ve said. He nibbles his way from my shoulder to my ear lobe, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh before moving his lips to my ear.
“I love you, too.” Goosebumps break out over my skin when he steps away from me. Jax runs a hand over my stomach, bending so he can lay a kiss on the skin between my jutting hip bones. “I’ll love you even more when you tell me that you’re carrying my baby.”
The words are like a bucket of cold water being dumped over me. It’s a reminder that our wedding in two short weeks comes with more clauses attached than a contract with the United Nations. That my life isn’t as ideal as I like to pretend it is—this connection between us is mercenary at its core, disguised by illusions of love and desire.
“Hopefully, soon.” Reaching around him, I turn the water off and step out of the shower. After I’ve wrapped a towel around my body, I check my reflection in the mirror. A wide-eyed, brunette with a fake smile plastered on her face greets me. I fuss with my hair, ignoring the sight of a naked Jax moving around the bathroom behind me. The shaved side of my head is beginning to blend into the rest of my hair and I don’t look as pale as I have recently.
“I’m going to dress, then I’m heading into the office for meetings.” Jax nips at my exposed shoulder with his teeth. He chuckles when a visible shiver runs the length of my body. “Be ready by five. Wear the dress I’ve had laid out for you. Hair and makeup will arrive at three-thirty, they know how I want you done up so let them work their magic.”
I let his orders flow over me like they don’t matter. If I don’t, the urge to run is going to overwhelm me. Tonight is our first official event as Mr. and Mrs. Jaxon Ray-to-be; although, I’m sure we’ve attended plenty without the weight of our engagement hanging over my head. I simply can’t remember them.
My father’s caustic reminders every time I see him to uphold the St. George family name, coupled with the fact that tonight is a fundraising ball for Jax’s hospital and the first public announcement regarding Centrifuge have left me feeling like a fish out of water. How the hell am I expected to perform as demanded when I don’t even know who I am? I haven’t left the house without Jax by my side, let alone schmoozed a room full of potential investors.
While I’m lost in my head, sending myself around the bend with worry about what tonight may bring, I’ve forgotten that Jax is in the bathroom with me. He doesn’t take too kindly to my lack of attention, because a moment later I find my back pressed against the cold glass of the shower cubicle with an irate fiancé glaring down at me, shaking hands clenched on my shoulders so I can’t shrug him off me.
“Did you hear a word I just said?” Small flecks of saliva land on my face when he over-enunciates each word as if I’m mentally challenged.
“I d—did.” My stammering answer has the cords in his neck straining so I try again. “Hair and makeup at three-thirty. Wear the dress you picked. Be ready by five.”
His annoyance with me vanishes. It’s replaced by a smug delight that has his eyes lighting up and previously constricting grip loosening into a lover’s embrace. Jax presses his cock against my tummy, nudging my thighs apart with his knee so he can access my centre with the hand that trails with negligent grace down my left side.
My body responds to his touch; however, my mind is in revolt. Two minutes ago, this man thought it was okay to lay hands on me because I didn’t give him the answer he sought. Now, he’s ready to drive me to distraction with those same hands—as if he’s both my punishment and my reward.
Wife to a Harley riding, boating and fishing, four-wheel driving, quintessential Aussie bloke.
Mum to two crazy, adorable, and creative kids.
Crohn’s Disease sufferer and awareness campaigner.
She’s also an avid tea drinker, a connoisseur of 80’s/90’s rock music, and is known for lacing everything she says with sarcasm and inappropriate innuendo.

Formerly working in finance, she was forced to reevaluate her plans for her life when severe Crohn’s Disease brought her corporate career to a screeching halt. Restarting her childhood hobbies of writing and reading to alleviate the monotony of being sick and housebound, she found her calling and is enjoying life to the max. A typical day is spent in the “real” world where she hangs out with her awesome family and “book” world where she gets to chill with her fictional characters.

Kylie writes the books she wants to read. A lover of strong men who aren’t perfect and aren’t afraid to admit it, straight talking women who embrace their vulnerabilities, and real life gritty stories, she hopes these themes shine through her writing. An avid reader of all genres, Kylie hopes to release books that keep the reader on the edge of their seat- be it with suspense, heart-stopping thrills, or laughter.

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