Friday, October 18, 2013

Fun Excerpt from Tie Me Down

I'm so excited about the fact that Tie Me Down and Full Exposure will be coming out in less than two weeks!!!  I love these books and can't wait to hear what you think about them :)  In the meantime, I thought I'd post an excerpt from Tie Me Down, just to give you a fun idea of what's in store for you!

Cover Copy:

For fans of Sylvia Day, E. L. James, and J. Kenner, the author of the edgy and erotic Full Exposure delivers another explosive tale of seduction and suspense.

As the only woman on her homicide squad, star investigator Genevieve Delacroix maintains a tough-as-nails attitude that keeps men at arm’s length. She never gives in to her secret fantasies—until she meets a mysterious stranger who teaches her how little control she really has over her mind or her body.

Cole Adams arrives in New Orleans believing Genevieve is his last hope for solving the murder of his younger sister. He just doesn’t expect the hard-bitten detective to look like a blond bombshell. Once he breaks through her inhibitions, he soon finds an unexpected obsession driving Genevieve right to the edge of desire . . . and beyond. But when the serial killer who has been terrorizing the streets of the French Quarter sets his sights on Genevieve, they realize that they both have let down their guard. And losing control can have fatal consequences.

Praise for Tie Me Down

“An intoxicating blend of suspense and eroticism that will leave readers breathless!”New York Times bestselling author Maya Banks

“Snares you in the first chapter with its detail of the desperation and need of the characters, and then keeps you enthralled as the plot unravels. Wolff grabs your attention and doesn’t let you go. A great read!”—Fresh Fiction

“All I can say is hot, hot, hot! Murder, mystery, and sex that sizzles—what more can a gal ask for? Warning—read this story with a fan ready at hand.”—Bestselling author Sunny

“The sex is wild, exotic, and inventive in Wolff’s serial-killer thriller.”RT Book Reviews


Cole Adams slid onto the barstool next to the blond bombshell with more curves than a baseball and wondered how to start up the conversation he was dying to have.
Should he open with the truth? He wasn’t sure how well this beautiful woman would take to the fact that he’d been researching her for months. That he’d followed her from the police station. That he’d been lurking around outside the precinct, waiting for her to come out for nearly an hour.
That he wanted a whole lot more from her than she’d be willing to give.
He’d meant to stop her there, to tell her what he wanted right from the start. But she’d looked so enraged—and miserable—that he couldn’t help wondering what had caused the devastation written so clearly on her face.
But before he could decide how to approach her, Genevieve had started off at a walk so fast it was nearly a run, and he’d been forced to follow her or lose his chance.
He couldn’t afford to mess this up. Not now, when he’d finally gotten everything set up the way he wanted it.
Glancing at Genevieve out of the corner of his eye, he nearly snorted. Yeah, right. Things were going exactly as he’d planned.
Except that she looked more likely to shoot him than listen to him.
Plus, the speech he’d prepared sounded incredibly stupid now. Like a bad pickup line instead of the appeal to her conscience he’d intended.
Maybe he was just paranoid—and who could blame him? He’d done his homework on the NOPD so thoroughly that the face of every homicide detective on the force was familiar to him by now. But Genevieve’s picture hadn’t done her justice. On the computer screen, her hair had looked more of a dirty gray than the honey blond it really was, and her ample curves had been hidden under an ill-fitting suit. Now Cole was struggling to deal with the arousal that had wrapped around his gut like a fist at his first sight of her, and had only gotten worse as he’d watched her sinuous glide through the Quarter.
Looking at her from beneath his lashes, he watched her long, unpainted fingernails tap an impatient rhythm on the bar as she leaned back on her barstool in a parody of relaxation. What did it say about him that the guarded accessibility of her frame—combined with the sight of those loose, feminine fingers—had him longing for the feel of her against him? For the feel of her hand on his suddenly—and unexpectedly—hard cock?
Fuck, damn, shit. What was he, a horny teenager who couldn’t keep his dick under control? Or a man who knew what he wanted, one with a secret to unravel and could find only one woman to help him do it?
This couldn’t be happening. Not now, when he was so close to getting the ball rolling. Not now, when he had Detective Genevieve Delacroix almost exactly where he wanted her.
But it was happening, his body spinning rapidly out of control while his mind struggled to find a way to approach her that she wouldn’t find threatening—or annoying.
“So, can I buy you a drink?” Her question came out of nowhere, in a no-nonsense tone and a voice that was pure, sugary Georgia peach. Smooth and silky and sweetly delicious, despite the hint of hard-ass he heard just below the surface.
Surprise swept through him, and he wondered if she would taste as good as she sounded. The contrast between her voice and her tone intrigued him, one more example of the numerous contradictions that seemed to make her up.
The lush body covered by that ridiculous suit.
The indolent pose belied by the watchful eyes.
The gorgeous voice with the don’t-fuck-with-me tone.
It made him wonder who the real Genevieve Delacroix was. Made him want to fuck with her—to fuck her—and to hell with the consequences.
As he struggled to regain control—to keep his eye on the prize—the wicked curve of her lips kept interfering with his concentration.
“What are you offering?” He kept his voice low as he angled his body toward hers, savoring the rush of arousal pouring through him. Inconvenient or not, it had been far too long since he’d felt this instantaneous reaction to a woman.
Her barely-there smile turned into a smirk. “That depends what you ask for.”
He nodded to the bartender who had sidled up to the other side of the bar. “A shot of Patrón Silver.”
“Interesting choice.” Genevieve quirked a brow before turning to the bartender. “I’ll take an Absolut and cranberry.”
After the bartender moved away, she leveled a pair of deep blue eyes at him and Cole fought the urge to squirm. Genevieve had cop eyes—world-weary, cynical and more than willing to believe the worst.
For a split second, it was like looking into a mirror, his own tormented emotions of the past few years staring back at him. But then a shutter came down, blocking him from seeing anything but a sardonic amusement that sent shivers up his spine.
“So,” she demanded as she leaned forward until her mouth was only inches from his own. “Do you often drink alone?”
It was his turn to raise a brow. “I’m new in town. I don’t have anyone else to drink with.”
“I’d feel sorry for you, but I get the impression that’s more by choice than necessity.” Her cerulean eyes glowed as they swept over him, and he couldn’t stop his body from clenching in response.
“So what about you?”
She inclined her head. “What about me?” Her peaches-and-cream voice was ripe with approval, and he felt his cock throb. Shifting a little, he tried to adjust himself so his hard-on wasn’t so obvious—or painful. But a quick glance at Genevieve told him that she was more than aware of his dilemma—and that she was enjoying it.
“Do you often drink alone?” He parroted her words back at her, determined to gain control of the conversation.
“Who says I’m alone? I could be waiting for someone.”
She was bluffing—pushing him hard with her fuck-off voice and come-hither body language—and normally he’d be more than happy to go along for the ride. But now wasn’t the time for this, he reminded himself forcibly.
“Should I leave?” He started to stand.
“No!” For just a moment her façade slipped, giving him one more glimpse of the frustrated, tired, too-pissed-off-to-be-alone woman behind the mask.
He sank back into his chair. “I’m Cole, by the way.” He held out a hand.
“Genevieve.” She hesitated before placing her hand against his.
“Afraid?” he asked with a smirk, unable to stop himself.
“Of you?” Her hand met his in a firm, no-nonsense clasp, her eyes narrowing in derision.
“Is there someone else here?” She tried to tug her hand back, but he didn’t let go. Couldn’t let go, any more than he could stop the cocky, shit-eating grin from crossing his face. It was going to be fun as hell testing her, seeing what she was made of.
Seeing just how far he could push before she began to shove back.
It might not be the wisest course of action, but then again, he’d given up being smart when he came to this hellhole of a city, intent on finding a truth that had eluded him for seven long years.
“I don’t know.” She glanced around the bar, let her eyes linger teasingly on some guy near the door. “Is there?”
As the guy straightened up and made a move toward them, Cole scowled fiercely. Then gave a sharp tug on Genevieve’s hand that had her out of her chair and between his legs before she knew what was happening. He wrapped his free hand around her hip and pulled her even closer, so that her thighs rested against his aroused cock.
Those blue eyes sparked with a fury that was cold as ice, and he expected her to struggle—for one brief moment, even wanted her to. His brain was sending all kinds of messages, calling him every name in the book, even as it warned him that he was blowing everything before his plan had a chance to get off the ground.
But for the first time in his life, his body had sole possession of the driver’s seat, his suddenly unruly libido shrugging off the warning signs like they didn’t exist—even as he fought for control.
For one brief, terrifying moment, he thought about forgetting the whole thing, about saying “Fuck it” and just reveling in the moment. About taking this woman any and every way he could have her and letting the chips fall where they may.
How had she gotten him so hot so quickly? In the long years following Samantha’s death, he’d never let anyone get under his skin. Ever.
And this wasn’t how their first meeting was supposed to turn out—with him fantasizing about what she looked like in the throes of one orgasm after another.
He was supposed to be laying the groundwork. Feeling her out. Checking to see if she really was as good as her record said she was. An hour ago her competence—or lack thereof—had been the most important thing on his mind. But now all he could think about was what it would feel like to come in her mouth. In her pussy. In her lush, gorgeous ass.
He tried to tamp down on the arousal, but that was like trying to put out a wildfire with a spray bottle—especially since he could feel the heat and arousal coming off her. Could see her nipples peaking beneath the thin material of her blouse. Could hear the hitch in her breathing as she too struggled for control.
He’d come to New Orleans looking for peace, had sought Genevieve out for just that purpose. But the aroused, out-of-control, gotta-have-her-now feeling that had grabbed him by the balls the second he laid eyes on her was anything but peaceful.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself back from the edge. It wasn’t easy when he wanted to be inside of her more than he wanted his next breath. More than he wanted the answers he’d come here to get.
But the look on Genevieve’s face said she’d been pushed—or pulled—as far as she was going to allow. Aroused or not, her next move would be to take a swing at him.
For a minute, he could almost taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. It might be worth it.
“You’re going to want to let go of me.” Her voice was low and hot, a warning if he’d ever heard one.
“I’m not so sure about that.” 

Anyway, hope you liked the excerpt!  Have a great Friday :)

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