“Intense, hot, and steamy, which Quin & Perin are well known for.” ~Karen, Amazon Reviewer
“Qu Pe , also known as the fabulous authors duo, Quin and Perin write , with out doubt , very naughty , sexy dirty and seriously hot smutty stories and Wanderlust it’s the perfect example.” ~Waleska, Amazon Reviewer
~BLURB~ This is an unedited role play by Quin&Perin. Please check the warning section inside the book.
wan·der·lust – noun: a strong desire to travel
“a man consumed by wanderlust”
The moment Chase walked into my bar, I knew he was trouble. And trouble he was. A man with a past; a wanderer… when really he’s been running.
***”Wanderlust” features detailed adult m/m content
“Smut from the best shelf. Be prepared of excessive forbidden stuff.” ~Truus, Amazon Reviewer
“If you are looking for a sexy taboo read this is the book for you.” ~Ashley A., Amazon Reviewer
~BLURB~ This is an unedited role play by Quin&Perin. Please check the warning section inside the book. My name is Nathaniel Preston. Second son of the Preston estate.
I’ve been raised to be perfect, to be ahead of every game, not to do wrong. Sem, my crass and vain older half-brother, is the complete opposite of me. All he seeks is his next high. To get there, he cheats, blackmails, and seduces.
Which wouldn’t be a problem, if one day he didn’t decide to tape me in a very compromising position…
***”Rich Kids” features detailed adult m/m content
Calloway knows that anything that seems too good to be true usually is.
Fenton Abbott and his cashmere voice, Adonis body, and a magnetism like
no other clearly falls into that category. But what’s life without a
It was supposed to be a rebound, an
uncomplicated escape from reality. But nothing ever goes as planned.
Fenton turns out to be so much more … in ways Brynne never sees coming.
and hot with page sizzling romance. Fenton Abbott is the picturesque
book boyfriend who will have you swooning and wishing you wore bikinis.”
– Heidi McLaughlin, NYT and USA Today Best Selling Author
It Leads lead me exactly where my heart needed to be. Locke has
developed complex characters, a story with depth, unexpected turns, and
sexy twists. A ✮✮✮✮✮ read for me.” – SL Scott, NYT and USA Today Best
“Locke has a way of always adding an
element of danger and intrigue to her stories that’s just understated
enough to allow the love story to shine through. This one is no
different. I loved it!” – Mandi Beck, author of the Caged Love Series
“Hands down, Wherever It Leads is Adriana Locke’s best work to date!” – Shera, Book Lovers Obsession
a fun, flirty and sexy read with a bit of mystery and intrigue. Pure
unadulterated fantasy!” – Dawn, Blushing Babes Are Up All Night Book
Fenton is standing in
front of the windows that line this room too. One hand is pressed
against the glass, the other holding a phone to his ear. He looks in
complete control, dominating, and it makes my mouth water. His charcoal
grey suit is stretched across his wide shoulders, his legs
shoulder-width apart. It’s the sexiest thing I have ever seen. Lord help
me when he turns around. The door closes softly behind me. As if in
slow motion, Fenton turns. The setting sun is to his back, almost like
the universe is showcasing his splendor in case there was any doubt of
his perfection. He slips one hand in his pocket, a slow smile spreading
across his face. “I’ll call you later,” he says into the phone and puts
it in his pocket too. All I can do is take him in. He’s doing the same
as his gaze caresses me from head to toe. Even from the other side of
the room, I can feel him skirting my curves, skimming my jawline. It’s
visual intercourse, if that’s even a thing, and I’m ready to climax. The
top button of his shirt is undone, his tie gone. A dark belt wraps his
narrow waist, giving him a look of sophistication. His jaw has a
spattering of stubble and I wonder what it would feel like beneath my
fingers. The energy in the room crackles as he draws near. My breathing
is rapid-firing and I take a deep breath to try to sort it out before he
reaches me. I fumble with what to say and what to do. I’m not the
smoothest on dates anyway, but with this Adonis? God almighty. I don’t
know him well enough to know how to even address him. Come to think of
it, I know three things: his name, he’s gorgeous, and he currently holds
all the power. And I’m ready to remove all of my clothing. So I guess
that makes it four.
ever on her game, flips her hair before extending a hand. “You’re the
man I’m looking for.” If I could react, I’d roll my eyes at her
innuendo. Instead, I just stare like a cartoon character. There are
probably little hearts extending from my pupils, exploding right above
his head. “I might be,” he says, looking at Presley. “Do you want my
name or something to confirm it?” she hints. “Well,” he drawls, his
voice as luxurious as Presley made it out to be, “I believe you said it
was your friend’s phone. So if that’s the case, I think it’s her name I
should get.” Presley’s jaw drops at the same time as mine. They both
look at me. “If you just show it to me, I can tell you if it’s mine,” I
half stutter. His smirk deepens. “I’m pretty certain it’s yours. Your
pictures are on the camera roll.” “You looked at my pictures?” I gasp,
my cheeks heating. “You had no right to do that!” “How else could I be
sure the right person came to pick it up?” He has a point, but I still
don’t agree. Yet I don’t want to argue. Not at least until I have my
phone. It feels like such an invasion of privacy and I should be
offended, or at least, mock-offended, but I’m really not. Not even when I
try to dig deep to find the feelings. “Thank you for finding it and
tracking me down. Can I have it back now?” I ask. He digs a large hand
into his pocket, too near his cock for my own good, and retrieves it.
“Thank you,” I whisper. My fingertips brush his palm as I take it. The
contact sends shivers down my spine. “It’s my pleasure.”
“Tell him I got his message yesterday and I don’t need him to blow me. But thank him for the offer.”
the nearest shopping cart and sliding it in front of me, I toggle the
phone against my shoulder. It nearly slides off my rigid muscles, a mix
of workout fatigue and work stress setting up shop across my back.
sighs through the phone, not even pretending to hide his frustration.
“Fenton, that’s not true,” he says, exasperation thick in his voice. “He
didn’t ask to blow you.”
“Obviously it’s not fucking true. I just want to hear him have to deny it.”
“You know what? Just forget I called. I’ll come up with a response myself.”
“That’s probably the best idea you’ve had yet.”
sighs again, louder this time. I’m sure I’ve been an asshole to deal
with since I hired him, but I gave him plenty of warning what he was
getting into. This entire situation, the one he was hired to deal with,
has been a complete clusterfuck from the start. There’s nothing more
vexing than being able to fix a problem and having your hands tied
behind your back while being needled that the problem exists. I know it
exists. I’m keenly aware and no one wants it fixed more than me.
“I’ll just tell them the status hasn’t changed.”
“I could’ve taken care of this,” I bite out.
“I know. I know.”
“And they wouldn’t let me.”
know you know. Try to impart some of that knowledge to them. I’m
playing by their rules right now, but I’m starting to lose patience with
“Fenton, you have to play by their rules. Otherwise—”
“I’m heading into the store,” I interrupt. “The service is going to get shitty.”
soon,” Duke says, ready to end the conversation anyway, and the line
clicks off. I shove my phone into the pocket of my black athletic pants.
My jaw pulses, the buzz from this morning’s workout now vanished.
the eyes of an uptight man perusing the apples, I skirt my cart left to
avoid interaction. I have no idea why I chose today of all days to do
my own grocery shopping. I could’ve waited three damn days until my
housekeeper gets back from vacation.
Steering clear of the
apples and the negative energy rolling off the shopper, I head towards
the bananas. I need to find the optimism I had five minutes ago before
Duke called from the office and ruined my Saturday morning.
bananas are organic and perfectly ripe, so I pluck a bunch off the
podium. I start to push away, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand
on end. A ruffle of unease scatters through my subconscious. I pause
mid-step and glance around the store. People mill about, minding their
own business, nothing out of the ordinary. I start to push away again
when I spy the offender. A black piece of plastic peeks out from behind a
bundle of bananas, the overhead light ricocheting off it and catching
I reach behind the produce and pull out a black cell
phone. Turning it over in my hand, it looks no worse for wear. I press
the round button on the bottom and the screen lights up.
back at me are two gorgeous girls, probably a couple of years younger
than me. Mid-twenties, I’d say. The dark-headed one is flashing a peace
sign in a barely there white bikini. She’s hot as fuck. But it’s the
blonde that draws my attention. She sits crossed-legged in shorts and a
tank top on the beach, her hair falling around her narrow shoulders. Her
body is covered, her stance demure, but there’s something striking
about her that I can’t pinpoint. I almost can’t look away. Her
blue-green eyes taunt me, tease me with a look that’s downright
beguiling. The touches of vulnerability hidden behind her confidence
intrigue me, make me want to hear her voice and know what she’s
Laughing at my ridiculousness despite the heat rolling
in my blood, I skim the store again. No one seems to be searching for
I glance back down and my gaze goes immediately to the blonde. The curve of her hip has my thumb gliding over the screen.
I should turn the phone in to management. It’s the logical, responsible thing to do.
My feet don’t move.
Losing your phone in the bananas doesn’t exactly shout responsibility.
a deep breath, I ponder my options. I can turn it in to Lost and Found
and hope that they actually give it to her if she comes looking. Or . . .
I could try to get in touch with her myself.
Keep telling yourself you’re playing the Good Samaritan.
against the produce display, I do a quick analysis. The odds of her
finding it at the Help Desk aren’t great. Maybe fifty-fifty. Some bagger
boy will probably see the lock screen and take it to the bathroom and
jerk off. The odds of that are phenomenal. The odds of me breaking the
passcode aren’t great either, but if possible, would greatly increase
her chances of getting it back.
And the chance for me to see those eyes in person.
I type in 0000.
“Try again” flashes on the screen.
the cart with my elbows towards the customer service desk, I run
through possible passwords before I commit to my final try. I have one
more chance before it locks me out for good and I have no choice but to
turn it over to Bagger Boy and his bathroom break.
I go for 1111, another overused password.
makes a clicking sound and the lock screen opens. The phone toggles in
my hands, my jaw dropping in disbelief. It worked. The home screen is
filled with apps over shiny gold wallpaper, waiting to be explored.
Should I or shouldn’t I?
My thumb glances over the photo album and I see the first photo.
They might call me Sir Loin of Beef, but when I see Kaitlyn for the first time, stick a fork in me, I’m done.
But I won’t claim her alone. Jed Cassidy and I share everything, and
that includes her. If the sweet little librarian isn’t ready to be
wrangled by two rodeo champs, we’ll just have to break her in nice and
slow. She’s ours. We will win her over—body and soul—and
when we do? Well, let’s just say we’ll give her a hard ride…and it’ll
last a hell of a lot longer than eight seconds.
Kaitlyn Leary takes one look at the sexy cowboys and can’t remember the
last time she was so eager for a double helping of… big beef. But
giving in to desire might ruin everything. Because the truth is that
this small town librarian isn’t all she seems. Landon
Duke and Jed might be talking about a future of picket fences and
making babies, but the past could destroy it all. Still…two cowboys?
Who could resist?
Remember: With a Vanessa Vale book, one cowboy is never enough. In
this smokin’ hot series, each heroine gets an extra helping (or two) of
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