Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Sour Cherry - New Romance in the Garden

Cherish "Cherry" Williams has been betrayed by her own motorcycle club. After a late night package delivery goes bad, the club president wants her head. With every member of the club out looking for her, she seeks help from the last place they'd suspect--behind enemy lines.

Cooper Nolan was supposed to be a one-night stand. Now he's her only hope of survival. But the Vice President of Satan's Army has secrets of his own, and war between their clubs is inevitable if he doesn't turn Cherry over to her president.

As connection after connection unravels, Cooper and Cherry's days--and lust-fueled nights--become a race against time. Will she and her hot, sexy bartender choose love and trust over duty and image--or will murder, corruption, and lies turn Cherry and the best night of her life into nothing more than a memory?


Some people are cursed with the ability to remember every object and scent in their surroundings for the rest of their lives. Sherlock Holmes, Sean Spencer from Psych, and even Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory share this predicament. They possess something called Eidetic Memory.

I, however, do not.

Which would explain why I couldn’t remember how I’d ended up with a broken nose on Las Vegas Boulevard at eight in the morning.

Oh, wait. Yes, I could.

The bitch standing in front of me had just hit me in the face. With a skateboard.

My name is Cherish Williams, Cherry for embarrassment's sake, and right now, I looked at a whole lot of woman. Blonde, to be exact, with tattoos, and a set of Double Ds. Complete opposite of my five-foot-six gangly frame. Along with the fact that I’ve never been the kind of person to hit someone in the face with a skateboard as they walked down the Las Vegas Strip. I tried to inhale the hot, dry air through my now-broken nose, but the sounds of passing cars reverberated too loudly in my head to concentrate on one simple task. Breathe in. Breathe out.

All I could see was Blondie. The amount of pain coursing through my head wouldn’t be anything compared to how much it would hurt for me to deflate that chest of hers, but if anger management had taught me anything, it was to evaluate first then react. I coddled my nose, wincing when waves of pain filled my skull. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you just randomly hit people in the face with skateboards?” 

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