Mistake – Book Four in the Breaking the Rules Series

WARNING – If you haven’t read the first three books in the series, this excerpt may contain spoilers.  Also, this excerpt has not been edited and is subject to change.  

Many of you have been patiently awaiting Opal’s book.  I’m ready to make this happen for you…and soon!  I thought I would share a little excerpt on what I’ve been working on.  

mistake header



First day of college… 

You were a mistake.  That was a constant reminder in my home growing up.  Momma took every chance she could to remind me of just that.  A mistake for getting pregnant from a loser?  A mistake for not getting an abortion or putting me up for adoption?

My entire life has been one big mistake.  Every decision I make always ends up being the wrong one.  In high school when I joined a drama class just because I thought the teacher was hot, that was a mistake.  Turns out, I couldn’t act and the teacher hated that I was the worst one in the group.  Both he and the class took their digs at me daily about how horrible I was.  It was a fucking nightmare.

When I decided to get a job at a restaurant waiting tables so I could save to go see Olive in New York—that, too, was a mistake.  After spilling coffee all over three customers in a single day, I was fired.  Apparently I wasn’t cut out for that sort of work.

At eighteen, when a fine ass black man showed up on my doorstep offering to whisk me away to New York City so I could model, well, that was a mistake as well.  Turns out, my naïve ass moved in with a psychopathic, sadistic shithead that was obsessed with my sister and just using me to get to her.  Big mistake.  Huge.   

I’m tired of making mistakes.  Once I set my eyes on the handsome investment banker, Trent Sutton, I knew things were going to turn around for me.  In an effort to quit making mistakes and make something of myself, I chose to enroll at CUNY and get my Bachelor’s degree in Investment Banking.  That would get Trent to notice me. 

For once, I was going to learn from my mistakes and start making better decisions.  Things are going to change.  I can feel it.   

Chapter 1

Nearly four years later…

            I’ve been fucking friend zoned.  Sitting up in my desk chair, I quickly unbutton my top two buttons of my blouse and poke my chest out.  The board meeting is about to start which means Trent should be here any moment.  How that man can resist my constant advances is beyond me.  I can see the lustful way he appreciates my body but he never makes a move.  It is fucking annoying.  Maybe he was waiting for me to get out of college?  The worst thought is maybe he just doesn’t find me attractive.

            The latter makes me sick to my stomach.  I spend several days a week in the gym building my muscle tone and eat extremely healthy.  I know that he notices my tight curves but he never even tries to touch me.  It drives me crazy.

            “You look pretty today,” Andi compliments as she comes in with Jackson.  He makes a beeline straight for the conference room while she stops at my desk.  Andi is absolutely gorgeous.  Her long, platinum blonde hair is always smoothed to perfection.  She always wears sexy, form fitting suits that accentuate her curves.  Jackson, her husband, has a hard time keeping his eyes off of her even to this day.  It makes me happy for her but sad that I can’t even get Trent to lose his measured control even for a second.

            “Thanks, doll.  Board meeting,” I remind her, winking.  She giggles and throws a glance over at the front doors where a group of men are entering.

            “If that asshole doesn’t notice you today, you need to fucking move on.  Seriously, Opal.  You’re gorgeous, smart, and spicy as hell.  You need a man that will fall to his knees and worship you, not one that treats you like a little sister,” she sighs.

            I frown at her words.  Being treated like a little sister is worse than being fucking friend zoned.

            “Gross, Andi!  Now go away, he’s coming this way,” I hiss and wave her away.  She chuckles all the way to her office earning a glare from me.

            “Good morning, Opal.  How is your day?” a sexy, familiar, deep voice asks from behind me.  I suppress a shiver and swivel around in my chair to face him.  He looks sexy as hell, like usual, in his navy pin-striped three-piece suit.  His blonde hair is perfectly styled, and like always, I have the urge to run my fingers through it and mess it all up.  David Beckham has nothing on this man.  Blue eyes twinkle at me as his lips curve into a smile.  Those lips.  God, what I could do to those lips.

            “Cat got your tongue?” he teases.  Really, this man has no idea how much I want him.  My skin burns but I quickly recover.  But not before I appreciatively run my eyes over his overly toned body.

            “Hey, Trent.  Things are perfect now,” I breathe out suggestively and cock an eyebrow up at him.  His eyes do the thing they always do when I say these things to him—they darken—but only for a moment.  I don’t miss when his eyes dart down to my fairly exposed chest but his eyes are back at mine in a flash.

            “Great, we’ll chat after the meeting, hon,” he says grinning and saunters off to the boardroom.  I admire his ass until he closes the door behind him.  Hopping up from my chair, I head to Andi’s office to explain in detail the latest encounter.  Ever since I began working at Compton Enterprises four years ago, Andi and I have become extremely close.  Olive and Pepper have their kids in common which means they spend a lot of time together doing “mommy” things.  Poor Andi and Jackson are still trying to conceive.

            “Opal,” Bray calls out from his office as I walk by.  Stopping in my tracks, I peek my head in.

            “What’s up, bro?” I ask.  And he is my brother in every sense of the word.  He rescued me that night from Drake and I will forever be grateful.  It was also Bray that treated my sister like nobody ever could—he loves her and my niece Abby with such an intensity that it can be felt by all those around them. 

            “Want to go visit Olive for lunch at the firing range?” he questions.  Typically we go visit her at least one of the three days she works up there to help Jo.  At first, Bray was overly insistent that she didn’t need to work.  But my sister wouldn’t hear any of it.  They didn’t need the money but it was more about her getting out and having adult interaction.  On many occasions, Jo has tried to sell it to her but Olive hasn’t conceded just yet.

            “That sounds great, Bray.  Just holler at me when you’re ready,” I instruct and head next door into Andi’s office.  Normally I wouldn’t bust into her office knowing Jackson could be ravishing her on the other side but since I knew he was in the conference room, things were safe.  I am about to start whining about Trent but realize she is crying.  Quickly, I close the door behind me and rush to her side.

            “Andi, what’s going on?” I ask softly as I stroke her hair.  She quickly dabs her eyes and looks sadly up at me.

            “Oh, Opal, I’m just devastated,” she sniffles.  Deciding she’s a little better, I move back to the other side of her desk and sit down.

            “About what?” I ask.  But I know what she’s about to say before she even says it.  Four years they’ve been married and she’s had five miscarriages.

            “It happened again this weekend,” she whispers tearfully.  My heart tightens for her.  I absolutely hate this for her.  She’s such a kind, wonderful person and deserves a baby so much.

            “I’m so sorry, Andi.  Is there anything I can do?”

            She sniffles and sets to shredding the tissues anxiously.  I have a feeling there’s more than the miscarriage going on right now.

            “Jackson and I are going back to counseling this week.  We’ve been arguing so much lately.  When we have sex, it’s so calculated and timed with my ovulation calendar.  There’s no more spontaneity.  Jackson is patient but I can see him faltering.  He never says a word but I know he resents me for this.  I honestly don’t know what to do so that’s why I set up an appointment with Dr. Sweeney.  Jackson was pissed but never disagreed.  Opal, I’m just so miserable,” she confesses.

            My heart aches for her.  “Andi, have you thought about other options?  Have you tried in vitro fertilization?  Have you looked into adoption?”

            She reaches into her purse and pulls out a card.  “I actually have an appointment this week to talk to this Dr. Ellis about our options.  He comes highly recommended and is really good at what he does.  If this doesn’t work, I’ll look into adoption.  I can’t take any more of these miscarriages.  They gut me, Opal.  I’m an emotional mess afterwards.”

            “Things are going to work out, Andi.  Just hang in there.  You know I’m always here for you,” I remind her.  She nods and attempts a smile.

            “Thanks, girl.  Now tell me about Trent.  Does he want to have wild sex with you in the conference room?” she asks, wagging her eyebrows.

            “I wish but he doesn’t seem remotely interested.  I swear, I feel like I’m in high school again desperately crushing over someone unattainable like my drama teacher,” I grumble.  Her eyes widen and she giggles, her low moment from earlier dissipating. 

            “Why does that not surprise me, Opal?  Why don’t you let me fix you up with someone?  I’m sorry but Trent is just taking too fucking long.  When was the last time you got laid?” she questions.

            “Drake.  He was my first and my last.  My fucking vibrator broke from overuse too!  I’m ready for things to turn around,” I exclaim. 

            Needing to get back to work, I stand and give her a hug.  Giving her a slight wave, I make my way back to my desk and bury myself in my work until the conference room door opens and the board members file out.  Trent makes his way back over to my desk and sits his brief case down.

            “How were finals?  I forgot to ask and I’ve been wondering since you were especially having trouble in your International Investments class,” he says and sits on the edge of the desk.  My eyes trail up his muscular legs for a second before I make eye contact.

            “It was a fuck—” I begin but stop myself.  He always frowns when I cuss, so I start again.  “It was a nightmare but I passed with a low B. I’ll be graduating in a couple of weeks and will be ready to unleash my investment knowledge on the world,” I laugh.

            His eyes study my face for a moment like he’s seeing me for the first time and my heart pounds out of my chest.  I drop my eyes to my lap, not wanting to break the spell.  His large hand reaches over and sweeps a strand of hair from my face.  My eyes once again dart to his and I feel my panties dampen as I try not to inhale his unique scent.  He’s regarding me differently and it’s doing things to my heart and my mind.  Crazy things.

            “Well, I think that calls for a celebratory dinner.  Would you let me take you to dinner tonight?” he asks in that sexy, deep voice of his.  My heart is on overdrive now.  He’s never once asked me out.  I’m almost at a loss for words.  Almost.

            “Sure, Trent.  I would love to have dinner with you.  And dessert too,” I suggest.  His eyes fall to my chest but quickly make their way back to my eyes.  This time he licks his lips and now I know I’ll need a panty change. 

            “Write down your address and number.  I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says hoarsely.  Quickly, he hops off the desk, grabs his brief case, and stalks out the front doors. 

            I have a date with the successful, sexy, Trent Sutton.  I’ve only waited four years for this day to come. 

(To be continued….hope you enjoyed the tease!)

Mistake will be releasing late 2014

If you sneaked over here and read this without reading the first three books, I’ll forgive you.  You can grab them up below…

box set breaking the rules series

You can purchase the books in a set here:

Buy Links for Breaking the Rules Series Box Set

Amazon:  http://amzn.to/1ufIdCH

B&N: http://bit.ly/1p8Hu6b

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1pBaMJx

Or, you can purchase them individually here: 

Buy Links for Broken (Book 1 in the Breaking the Rules Series)

Amazon:  http://bitly.com/1hNqDTO

B&N:  http://bit.ly/QSe7XI

Kobo:  http://bit.ly/1lXh4zZ

Buy Links for Wrong (Book 2 in the Breaking the Rules Series)

Amazon:  http://bitly.com/RqiWsd

B&N:  http://bit.ly/1lXsHeO

Kobo:  http://bit.ly/1fiG1Yw

Buy Links for Scarred (Book 3 in the Breaking the Rules Series)

Amazon:  http://amzn.to/QMmjZT

B&N:  http://bit.ly/1k9hja9

Kobo:  http://bit.ly/1pEpWjU

author k webster Magnent



Breathing Romance Back into the Genre

RQ1If you spend as much time on Facebook as I do, you may have begun to notice something.  Romance books are becoming less advertised as love stories and are being portrayed as “mommy porn”.  Authors and blogs (I’m totally guilty of this) have resorted to using “sex” to sell their “sex” books.  Sounds legit, right?


We as authors (erotica, contemporary romance, etc) have poured our hearts and souls into writing books that carry an equal amount of love story and steam.  I know personally, I get highly offended when someone tells me I “write porn.”

Have you ever watched porn?  I have and it’s cheesy as hell.  The faces they make….ew.  

A porn story might involve the pizza delivery guy showing up to deliver pizza to a desperate housewife while the husband is at work, only to end up screwing her six ways to Sunday.  The husband shows up and they have a ridiculous threesome.  So hot, right?  NOT.

I don’t write porn.  I write LOVE stories.  My stories are tales of broken people that find redemption in each other.  These stories detail out chemistry between two souls and their journey toward a happy ever after.  And while there is sex, and in some of my books a lot of it, there’s also love.  The connection between the characters is real and something everyone can relate to. 

There’s no love in porn.

So when did our industry become about downgrading our art to just porn with no story line.  We find half naked pictures of men to post all over our pages and covers of our books to sell our product.  When you open Facebook, if you’re a book nerd like me, your feed is flooded with endless scrolling of a different set of chiseled abs with each post.

So what’s the big deal?  I like abs….

That’s not the point.  Everyone can appreciate beauty, no matter the form.  The point is, it is becoming the face of our industry.  It’s casting a light on our genre that says what we write isn’t as good as the rest…like it’s dirty and cheap.

I’m sorry, but I’m proud of each and every one of my sexy stories.

Again, what’s the point?

The point is, it’s time to breathe romance back into the romance genre.  

Thus with a kiss I die. ~ Romeo~  (Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare) 

Um, swoon much?!  Your heart melted a little and I didn’t even post a picture of a tattooed badass Romeo with Ken doll abs in an expensive suit rolling up on a Harley.  You still imagined a sexy, romantic, panty-melting lover.  

And that, my friends, is another point.  The books we write are not meant to be picture books.  They’re romantic fantasies for you to get lost in.  When the author describes the way the hero’s eyes caress every curve of the heroine’s body, your heart seizes in anticipation.  You want to get caught up in their story.  We as authors have a job to help create a visual in your head so that you don’t need accompanying pictures.  

And how’s this for romance?  Sheesh, it reminds me of some of the dialogue that goes on between some of my characters:


” ‘for I have seen you give him looks and smiles this very night, such as you never give to me.” (Pip speaking to Estella)

“Do you want me then,” said Estella, turning suddenly with a fixed and serious, if not angry, look, “to deceive and entrap you?”

“Do you deceive and entrap him Estella?” (Pip)

“Yes, and many others-all of them but you.” (Estella)

(Great Expectations by Charles Dickens) 

Awwww, Estella loves Pip even if she has a funny way of showing it. 

Can you imagine if Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare had Facebook back in the day?  Would ole Charlie post a sexy picture of a hard-bodied Pip standing behind a fire wielding a hammer as he beat the metal into submission all the while while giving the camera a naughty smirk?  I kind of think he’d be more inclined to post an excerpt like the one above to draw the reader into the story.

Would Bill Shakespeare post half naked pictures of Romeo hanging from the trellis in nothing but a pair of fitted tights showcasing all of his man-glory all over his page?  While I’m sure Romeo was a looker back in the day and most of the dames wanted to throw their knickers at him, the story wasn’t just about him was it? No, it was also about Juliet.  It was a romance story through and through.  A tragic one—but most of them are anyhow.

So in a nutshell, I’m getting bored of the “well, sex sells” mantra.  In my opinion, romance still sells…we just need to bring back the focus to the heart of the matter…  


People were in love with these classic romantic stories long before Fabio came along with his golden tan and flowing Thor Wannabe hair.  I think it’s time to give respect back to our genre and credit it for more than just “mommy porn”.  

I write a love story about two people that usually have a little trouble finding their way at first but they always do eventually. The story is typically a passionate yet angst-filled one that weaves it’s way toward a happy ending.  

Who’s ready to bring sexy back?  Get your head back in the gutter where it belongs and off of Facebook.  Let’s rely on our imaginations once again to paint a picture of the perfect book boyfriend instead of drooling all over images that have nothing to do with our books.  

Surely I’m not the only one out there that sees how our industry has been overrun by abs.  Again, abs are not a bad thing. But my books aren’t about abs.  They’re about love.




author k webster Magnent 

Coming Soon: Apartment 2B by K Webster



I’m super excited for this book to release.  It is projected to release at the end of May.  Apartment 2B took a different path from my normal writing but I’ve been told by several of my beta readers that this is their favorite story of mine thus far.  No worries, I’ll still bring the steam that you know and love.  I can’t wait for everyone to read it!  


Sidney has a rough life. Her mom is incredible abusive both mentally and physically. One day she’s awarded the escape she’s always wanted and is thrust into a world she barely understands. Each day is a struggle to feel human and not terrified of everything around her.

Sidney has rules. Routines. Structure. It’s the only way she can cope.

When a handsome, yet mysterious stranger inserts himself into her life, Sidney begins to come apart at the seams. She’s having trouble sticking to her habits and it’s threatening to shred any hope of a normal life to pieces. 
Will this stranger help her in ways no other person can or will things get worse for her? 

He comes with his own set of problems and secrets that he’s unwilling to share. Together will they work through the mess of their pasts or will they get caught up enabling each other? Will their toxic relationship ultimately be destined for demise?

*****************Exclusive Excerpt*****************

This is the the unedited version of the Prologue of Apartment 2B…..

She approaches me with the glassy, far off look and I cower away from her. There is no escaping her when she goes into one of her moods. When she’s like this, I refer to her as Clean Momma. I plead with my eyes, not daring to voice my prayers. You never speak to her when she has that look in her eyes. Speaking will only make things ten times worse.

            “Sidney, baby, are you dirty?” she questions, the sweetness in her voice thick as syrup. I blink a few times to rid the tears that are threatening. Clean Momma hates tears.

            Quickly shaking my head from side to side, I once again plead with her, non-verbally, to not go to the inevitable. When she takes a step toward me, I flinch and the corners of her lips turn up into a sickening smile.

            Momma is as twisted as they come. Even being a very naïve, sheltered, fifteen year old girl, I know that there is something sick in her brain. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow books from the library. Because of those escapes from hell, I know that I am living in a nightmare that is far from a normal life. As if reading my mind, she glares at me with all the hate she can muster it seems and I nearly vomit. But I choke it back because you certainly do not do that in front of Momma. Only a few times in my life has it happened and I paid dearly for them.

            “Sidney, you are a very dirty little girl. When you went to the library today, you were exposed to some nasty things. I can practically seem them crawling on you. Momma needs to wash you clean.”

            This time, the tears fell on their own accord and I slowly inch myself away from her. Even though we are nearly evenly matched with our height and weight, she has just enough crazy in her that I will never be able to fight her. Breaking my vow of silence, I finally succumb to begging.

            “Momma, please,” I begin in a whimper, “I was so careful not to get dirty. I wore clothing to cover my arms and legs. Plus, I remembered to wear my gloves.” I didn’t really, but I threw it in for good measure, hoping it might work this time.

            “Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

            I gulp, once again trying to push down the rising bile in my throat. There is no way around this.  And since I’ve spoken, it will be brutal. 

            “Get into the bathroom right away and undress. I’ll get my supplies.”

            When I don’t make any moves toward the bathroom, she picks up one of her many switches that are scattered about the house from the end table and cracks it across my upper arm with surprising force for a woman of her size. I howl in pain and pull away from her, hurrying into the bathroom. The last thing I need is a bunch of open lashes while I endure my punishment. My arm stings and without looking, I know she’s broken the skin.

            Not wanting to push her any further, I quickly strip out of my clothes as I wait for her. I know the drill. She will bathe me as if I’m a child. Problem is, she will do it in such a sadistic manner that it will take me days to recover. Again, I feel like puking.

            I feel her presence before I see or hear her and step out of her way as she comes into the bathroom. She’s in her “uniform”, as she calls it, donning long yellow rubber gloves and goggles. Heaven forbid she gets any bleach on her precious skin. Spinning around so fast that I yelp out in surprise, she glares at me. The woman can sense, even in my mind, when I have the smallest inkling of defiance rolling through me. Her look is enough for me to wash it away immediately.

            Stalking over to the tub, she draws what I know from experience is a scalding hot bath. I’m already whimpering as I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. As it fills, she adds the entire bottle of bleach into the tub. It instantly burns my eyes and nose as it fills the air, mixing with the steam. I try not to choke and take shallow breaths as not to inhale it all and send myself into a coughing fit. Clean Momma is bad, visiting frequently, but Nurse Momma is the worst. A cough would bring her out in a flash and I simply couldn’t deal with Nurse Momma. 

            “Dirty child, get into the tub. We need to wash the filth from your body. Momma needs to make you clean again.” 

            I blink the tears from my eyes, which are now a mixture of fear and chemical irritation, and approach the tub hesitantly. Because I must be going too slowly, I am immediately attacked with the switch again across my bottom and wail out in surprise. This, too, has broken the skin and I curse myself for making things worse on me.    

            Raising my foot over the top of the tub, I try to ease my toes in, testing the temperature of the water. Of course it is beyond scalding, and I whimper as I force my foot into the blistering abyss. Escaping to the mental holes in my mind, I think about anything but the pain that is slowly rising up my leg as I fully submerge it. Once my toes graze the bottom of the tub, I get my footing under control before I pull the other foot into the tub.

            Momma calmly watches as I lower myself down, grabbing ahold of either side of the tub. This part always hurts the worst. If I don’t do it in a manner that she views is quick enough, she’ll help me along. I do not like it when she helps me along. 

            Biting down on my lip, praying to distract myself from the pain, I lower my bottom to the water. I can feel the heat of the water on my sensitive flesh between my legs before it even touches the scorching water. When I hesitate, just a fraction of a second, I know I’ve made the worst possible mistake.

            Momma slams her hands onto my shoulders and pushes me into the piping hot water. My screams are otherworldly as the liquid fire lashes at my flesh, especially my fresh branding on my bottom. Tears roll down along with snot as I try not to move a muscle, hoping not to inflict any more pain on untouched skin. 

            My breaths are coming out shallow and ragged as I throw all of my will power into not hyperventilating. I still have a death grip on the edge of the tub so that she doesn’t fully submerge me if I am caught off guard. Every muscle in my body is tight as I brace myself for what she has plans for next.    

            From the corner of my eye, I watch with bated breath as she pulls out a bristly scrub brush. Thankfully this one only has plastic bristles. If they ever ran out of the plastic ones at the grocery store, she was in no way opposed to buying metal scouring pads. She carefully pours a little bleach over it and turns to me. Clenching my eyes closed, I hold my breath as she begins her relentless scrubbing. 

            She burnishes my skin, careful to remove every single perceived contaminant. My skin burns as the bleach and slowly cooling water irritates the raw places. Every single place she can reach, she does her ritualistic cleansing. Thankfully, she never goes above my neck. 

            “I think we managed to take care of your dirty little problem. Now I suggest you finish up in here and get off to bed. Momma’s tired from all of this hard work,” she says, without any indication that what she has done to me is wrong. No, Momma doesn’t see anything unusual about her behavior which only solidifies how sick in the head she is. 

            “Yes, Momma,” I agree softly, not looking at her.

            “Very well then, goodnight, love.”

            Her words are just that—words.  She may call me “love” or “baby” but they are empty.  There is absolutely no feeling behind them. Momma has deep rooted psychological problems which she’s never received any type of professional help for. In my many trips to the library, I have read through tons of books looking for her disease. There isn’t anything in those books about cleaning your child in bleach because of imagined germs, at least, as far as I could find.

            After she exits the bathroom with her supplies, I drain the water and stand up. The cool air washes over my skin, much to my delight. Once the last bit of water disappears, I turn on the shower to the coldest setting I can handle. The spray of icy water cools my burning flesh and washes away the bleach, finally making it easier for me to breathe.

            There has to be a way I can escape her sick abuse but I don’t know how. Everything was fine until Daddy left us a few years ago when I was ten. The moment he left, without a word of goodbye, I watched my momma slowly morph into a monster. In the beginning, she just started using the switch on my frequently. Whenever she was upset about missing Daddy or had a bad day at work, she would punish me by beating the stew out of me with her switches. My body was littered with scars over scars from those painful lashings. 

            The summer after sixth grade is when she upped her level of crazy. She has her own business as a cleaning lady and has many affluent clients. One particular day, a client accused her of stealing and fired her. At dinner that night, she snapped and decided I was dirty. That first bleach bath was horrifying. Now that I was used to them, they were at least not surprising. I eventually learned her patterns and triggers for the next few years, always attempting to stay two steps ahead of her. However, trying to understand a mentally ill person is a fruitless endeavor and I still, like tonight, landed on her radar.

            It made me sick the day that she told me I would no longer be going to school and that she would take care of my schooling from home. Until that point, it had been my escape. I still remember crying so hard that I made myself sick and vomited. That was when I met Nurse Momma. The shudder that courses through me brings me back to the present.

            Washing my hair, I wince as the shampoo burns my raw skin when it runs down my shoulders and back and quickly rinse it away. I turn off the water and locate the towel on the hook. Ever so softly, I dab the water from by skin. Making my way to the mirror, I swipe it to see my reflection. My blue eyes seem hollow and vacant. Dark circles ring them, an indication of the stressful life I lead. Pouty lips, that look much like Momma’s, frown back at me.

            Carefully, I pull the hairbrush through my shoulder-length chocolate colored hair. When I accidentally graze the shoulder of the injured arm, I yelp in pain. I place the hairbrush back down and exit the bathroom—the towel wrapped loosely around me. Glancing nervously down the hallway, I dart into my room and quietly close the door behind me. 

            My fan is humming above and my body shivers delightfully as the air chills my stinging skin. I drop the towel and open the window to let more cool air inside. Because of her punishments, I am developing my own obsessive tendencies, much to my dismay. For one, the fan always has to be on, and the window open, no matter the temperature. Two, I absolutely will not sleep with anything but a simple sheet draped over my skin. And finally, I sleep naked which is unusual for a fifteen year old girl.

            Up until the bleach baths, I was every bit the normal girl who got occasional beatings from her mother. Since the baths started, my skin screamed for relief. It’s absolutely necessary for me, not only to heal from them this way, but also, to have the control over my body that I don’t have when Momma is around. 

            Sliding in between the sheets, I finally relax in my safe haven. If I knew where to go or if I had money, I would just leave in the middle of the night out of the open window that begs to release me to my own devices. But I am scared. Momma rules the only world I know. Until I can figure out a way to seek help or manage a life on my own, I am tethered to her in ways that I wish I wasn’t.  I absolutely hate her and this life I’ve been dealt.


Add Apartment 2B to your Goodreads HERE.

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COVER REVEAL: Broken by K. Webster



Andi has the perfect life. She is about to graduate with an Architecture degree and marry her-All American baseball star-fiancé. When she catches him in bed with another woman, her world is turned upside down. Left to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, she takes on a new persona—a promiscuous one. This new role protects her heart from ever being broken again. 

Andi now lives by a set of rules. The game? Sex with a new pawn every weekend. Every Friday, she sets her sight on a new sexy, successful man to play along—no strings attached, please. When Monday rolls around, she kicks them to the curb and moves on. It has helped her get through the pain of her past—that is, until she meets Jackson. 

The mysterious Jackson is excited to play her game. He too has had his heart broken in the past and isn’t looking for a repeat. Eventually, hearts get involved and Andi wonders if the game is still worth playing. 

Will she look for a new pawn or will she break the rules with Jackson?








I’m a thirty-two-year-old self-proclaimed book nerd.  Married to for nearly eleven years, my husband and I enjoy spending time with our two lovely children.  Writing is a newly acquired fun hobby for me.  In the past, I’ve enjoyed the role as a reader.  However, recently, I learned that I absolutely love taking on the creative role as the writer.  Something about determining how the story will play out intrigues me to no end.  My husband claims that it’s because I like to control things—in a way, he’s right!

By day, I run around from appointment to appointment, wearing many hats including, mom, wife, part-time graphic designer, blogger, networker, social media stalker, student, business owner, and book boyfriend hunter.  (It’s actually a thing—complete with pink camo.  I lurk around the internet, “researching” pictures of hot guys who fit the profile of whatever book boyfriend I’m reading or writing about)

I guess you can blame my obsession with books on my lovely grandmother, who is quite possibly my favorite person on the planet.  At an early age, she took me to the half-priced bookstore each weekend and allowed me to choose a book.  Every single time, she caved when I begged for two.  Without her encouragement, I wouldn’t have been able to cope during some hard times without my beloved books.

Currently, I am finishing up my college degree that has taken me forever to complete.  It’s just on the list of my many “bucket-list” goals that I subject myself to.

Most days, you can find me firmly planted in front of my computer.  It’s my life.  If the world ever loses power, I’d be one of the first to die—of boredom!  But I guess as long as I have books and a light, I might just survive.

Looking forward, you can expect to see two more novels in the Breaking the Rules Series.  I’m nearly finished with the third.  Also, I have a standalone novel that will be released soon as well.

This writing experience has been a blast, and I’ve met some really fabulous people along the way.  I hope my readers enjoy reading my stories as much as I do writing them.  I look forward to connecting with you all!








Bare Naked Words


Cover Reveal for With Me by Gabbie S. Duran

Cover Reveal Time!!  I’m looking forward to digging into this book…





What happens when you take a chance one night … and make a decision that will change your life forever?

Kasey Wilson, the girl next door, had a crush on the boy next door … Joseph Mitchell was that boy. 

Kasey was left with the consequences of her decision when Joseph left her behind, leaving for the Marine Corps. She never thought she would see Joseph again, leaving her to continue on with her life, moving forward. 

But fate has a way of intervening …

Joseph Mitchell always lived with the regret of walking away that night, never to see Kasey again. Finally ready to settle down, he’s now engaged to someone else. But when he finds Kasey again, he learns of a secret she’s been keeping, a secret that will change both their lives forever. 

Can they finally have the relationship they never had? Or will Joseph be forced to walk away again?



Amazon Paperback: http://goo.gl/tGV7fn

Amazon: http://goo.gl/sE8TGj

Amazon UK: http://goo.gl/ikzQBA

Amazon CA: http://goo.gl/OW2mv5

Barnes & Noble: http://goo.gl/o9JGVk



Gabbie is a Southern California native, who currently lives in Washington with her wonderful husband, two amazing kids and a senior citizen kitty. When she’s not writing you can find her reading or sneaking off for a run. Some might say it’s a crazy life, but she wouldn’t change anything about it.



Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/authorgabbiesduran

Twitter: https://twitter.com/gabbiesduran

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7093957.Gabbie_S_Duran


Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads Author Page

Stay tuned for the blog tour stop where I’ll tell you how good it was!  



Book Recommendation: Ignite by Tessa Teevan


Burn. Explode. Catch fire. Go up in flames. Kindle. Detonate. Light. Awaken. Provoke. Fire. 


That is exactly what this book did to me.  From the very first few pages, Author Tessa Teeven lit the match….and from there things caught fire until they finally exploded.  


After nearly a year and a half of grieving the loss of her husband, twenty-seven year old Alexa Sullivan Tate is headed back to her hometown after a decade of being away. She has no idea her high school crush, Jace McAllister, the guy who stole her heart the same night that he broke it, is more than ready to pick up the pieces. 

Jace has spent the last ten years in the Army defusing bomb after bomb, trying to forget the girl who ignited all his passions. Little does he know that the spark still exists. 

Ten years ago they had smoldering chemistry, but the spark between them now might light a fuse that leads to an explosion even Jace can’t stop. Not that he wants to. If only Alexa can get past her guilt and trust her heart again. 

But how do you put it all on the line when you’ve already lost everything once before? 

*While this is a series, each book will be standalone.

I absolutely loved this book.  Alexa was quite the firecracker and I loved watching her transform from a depressed, sad woman into a hot, passionate female.  Jace was the ULTIMATE book boyfriend.  Perfect in every way.  Baseball player turned soldier head over heels for his high school sweetheart…doesn’t get any better than that!

Meet Alexa Tate:



Meet my one and only true love, Jace McAllister:  


If you’re anything like me, this book will leave you PANTING for more!  No worries, she’s got more steam ahead with Incinerate due to be released 2/18/4!   Inflame will be released in the early Spring of 2014.  Tessa Teevan is totally bringing the HEAT.



Kobo Books

Barnes and Noble



Author Tessa Teevan’s Facebook

Goodreads link for Incinerate (Book 2) to be released 2/18/14.  

Goodreads link for Inflame (Book 3) to be released Early Spring 2014.

I really enjoyed this read from this talented author and can’t wait to read more!


David Gandy is the Gandy Man

David Gandy gets my motor running.  He easily fits the profile of most of my book boyfriends.  As a tribute to him, I’m dedicating all of these memes to him.  I could make these for hours as long as I get to look at his pretty face all day!





Spread the word…..Gandy gets it.  


David Gandy is the Gandy Man





David Gandy gets my motor running.  He easily fits the profile of most of my book boyfriends.  As a tribute to him, I’m dedicating all of these memes to him.  I could make these for hours as long as I get to look at his pretty face all day!





Spread the word…..Gandy gets it.