🔥 STEAMY SNEAK PEEK! 🔥
Keep reading for a super hot excerpt from Stanton’s Sins by Monique Moreau!
It releases November 10th!
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A biker princess. A broken billionaire. Will his sins come back to haunt them?
The darling little sister of the Demon Squad MC, Sammi loved everything about growing up in the club, including her infuriating older brother Puck. She’d do anything for Puck. After he gets arrested, she marches into the courtroom to give him a piece of her mind and marches out with the prosecutor’s full attention.
Recently clean and sober, prosecutor Stanton Prescott is focused on two things: working his caseload and making his very unprivate life, well…private. But when a sassy woman interrupts one of his cases to give the defendant a dressing down, she’s a temptation he can’t resist.
Stanton tracks Sammi down and makes her a proposal – be her sugar daddy in exchange for a taste of her luscious body. After a month in rehab, Stanton’s active imagination is dying to be set loose. He counts on her to agree, in exchange for getting Puck out of prison. What he doesn’t expect is for Sammi to see past his sophisticated mask. She not only sees him, but revels in the demanding beast within.
Together the pair battle angry exes, suspicious bikers, and other shadowy figures. Will their unlikely love survive the sins of Stanton’s past?
Come follow them on the ride of their lives with just one click.
DON’T SAY WE DIDN’T WARN YOU — HERE COMES THE HEAT!
“Don’t tell me you’re a prude.”
“No, I’m not a prude but here’s your first lesson, buddy. You’ve got to work your way up to talking dirty to me, and let me tell you, you haven’t even begun to work hard enough for it.” She gave him that sassy, disgusted look-over again. Fucking cute and hot.
He folded his arms over his chest, and she mimicked his posture, although hers had the benefit of shoving her tits up—creamy, and just plain lickable. Oh, he’d lick her, first chance he got. From end to fucking end. “Is that right? I’m going to be schooled by a little girl?”
“If the shoe fits,” she sassed back. “And stop calling me little girl.” Her hands flapped down her frame. “I’m a damn woman.”
Back in her space, the back of his knuckles found the line of her cheekbone. “Oh, no. The term “little girl” stays. You’re too fucking adorable, and I want to be the man who takes care of you.” His tone dropped an octave, coming out almost hoarse. “I’ll do whatever it takes, work as hard as it takes, to have the privilege of taking care of this tight body of yours. To do whatever I want with it, whenever I want. But calling you “little girl” is nonnegotiable.”
She pushed him back. He let his hand drop and stepped away again. “You don’t look old enough to be a sugar daddy. How old are you, anyway?”
“I’m twenty-nine, and a sugar daddy is in how a man treats you, not in their age. And, I plan on treating you very, very well,” he ended in a growl.
Looking him up and down as if thoroughly unimpressed, she cocked her hip and harrumphed. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that, little girl.”
Growing up in New York City, I used to walk the hot pavements in the melting heat of the long summers, and dream. Uptown to downtown, eastside to the westside, and underground to catch a subway racing out into the boroughs.
During my wanderings, my magic pencil spun out fantasies full of romance, with first meetings, heartbreaks, and reunions. Sometimes my boy crush (unrequited, of course) starred as the hero.
I grew up, and after a stint in art school, became a lawyer ‘cuz a woman’s got to make a living. I came from parents who fled to France as refugees, and as an attorney, I dedicated my work to helping survivors of trauma and persecution.
I believe in them. In their grit, in their determination to hold on, to pull through and, somehow, someway, to keep themselves intact, body and soul.
Perhaps that is why I am drawn to writing stories of men and women who live through heart-rending pain, desperate yearnings and, ultimately, reach a place of redemption.
For a long time, I fought the urge to veer off the expected, safe path until I couldn’t go on unless I took a chance and made a change. I began to write, stopped, and began again. Finally, I gave in and here I am.
Come join me on my journey…
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