Résultats lu par "Bridget Bordeaux" dans Toutes les catégories

One signature. That’s all it took for my life to be turned upside down. Now I belong to the ISC. At least, that’s what I thought, until they shoved me into the cell of a giant, hyena-like alpha with a possessive streak and filthy sense of humor.

I need more magic like I need a point-blank bullet to the head. All that dragon power Rhett’s already given me is churning around inside me, causing as much trouble as the great poohbah dragon protector himself, and he’s trouble walking in a pair of perfectly fitting jeans. Regardless of my desires, and I’ve got lots of them thanks to the two men who won’t stop shooting suggestive looks my way, more magic is exactly what I’ve got—plus a whole band of dragon shifters without it, heh, pointing fingers at me for taking what they think is theirs. Oopsie.

At thirteen, I decided to be a nurse. That very same year, I fell in love with Ed Cooper. Sure, I was barely a teenager and he was one of my older brother’s buddies from boot camp. I didn’t care. I was in love or lust…or something. He consumed my every waking thought. Sadly, fifteen years later, I’m still infatuated and he sees me as a little sister.

Party girls don't waste time on romantic notions. We're hunting pleasure, excitement, and finding love is the last thing on our minds. No way am I shagging my host, who is basically a prostitute, when there's a paradise of hungry eyes waiting to explore mutual erotic fantasy. But sometimes, the person you thought was the least desirable turns out to be the right kind of naughty you didn't know you needed. 

He’s a beast whose strength is unparalleled, a creature who demands my obedience. But even as the twisted parts of me are drawn to him, I refuse to be broken.

I didn’t know I had a sister until I walked into a crime scene and saw my own lifeless face staring back at me. Horrified, I still did my job and collected evidence to nail the men responsible.

Traitor’s Den was meant to be a prison. A punishment. A hellhole my daddy could never escape. Over the decades, however, hundreds of us have found a way to make it our home. We’ve learned to deal with the many bumps along the way with colorful cussing and a dash of humor—often roused by one too many at the saloon—and we’ve embraced the spell that turns us all into honky-tonk cowgirls and -boys.