Book Blitz for Beautiful Lies by Gina Whitney!!

Title: Beautiful Lies

Author: Gina Whitney        

Genre: Erotic Romance

Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Synopsis:Enigmatic Cameron Sterling is quickly rising through the ranks at New York’s most prestigious and corrupt law firm Wotherspoon and Associates. He has willfully avoided any meaningful personal relationships and is content to casually hook up with Becky, a young woman who fancies herself as his actual girlfriend. As a child, Cam witnessed his father murder his mother, and this was the genesis of his relationship-avoidance issue. The only thing he cares about now is becoming a partner at Wotherspoon and Associates. Cam is obsessed with the promotion and will not let anything—or anyone—stand in his way. But when Cam crosses paths with Lilly Amsel, a fashion model, the edges of his well laid plans begin to fray. At first, Cam is unimpressed by Lilly’s exaggerated effervescence and entitled air. However, he is taken aback by her incredible beauty—legs as long as an Amazon’s, silky honeyed-hair, and blazing body. This undeniable physical attraction disturbs Cam on all levels, leaving him intrigued by Lilly and wanting to get away from her at the same time.  Lilly is strongly aroused by Cam’s moody presence. His dark, erotic looks and heady scent ignite long-dormant embers of wanton desire buried deep within her. Practically hypnotized, she finds her body reacting in the most surprising and carnal of ways. However, the two separate and never expect to see each other again, but somehow they manage to still linger on each other. Lilly’s larger-than-life persona that Cam initially encountered is a sham, though. It is a well-crafted costume that masks deeply rooted insecurity and an unfortunate dependence on prescription drugs. This stems from a horrifically abusive childhood that she is trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to forget. Her mediocre modeling career was the perfect vehicle for her to escape that tumult and simultaneously receive acceptance and praise. It did not matter to Lilly that the kudos were based on superficial assumptions. She was still almost satisfied with the result and what modeling could not fix, the drugs could.  Enthrallment and lust have other plans, though. Despite their best efforts to stay apart, Cam and Lilly come back together and embark on a tempestuous affair. For both of them, a torrid weekend getaway in the mountains unleashes years of pent-up sexual frustration and destroys inhibitions. Cam has no problem taking charge as he relishes Lilly’s delicious inner nectar. Again and again, Cam delivers Lilly pleasure she has never known before, leaving her trembling as she reclaims the goddess within.

Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and

obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.

Links:

Goodreads

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon
Blog

Buy Links: 
*Amazon
*BN
*Kobo
*ITunes

Chapter One

If I had known then that Lilly Amsel would set such a fierce blaze in my life, I would have taken the next elevator.

All I wanted that morning was to get a hard run on the treadmill and go to my office to put in some weekend overtime. I arrived at The Equity, the most prestigious gym not only in New York City but in the country, and was checking my work-issued Blackberry as usual. I tended to avoid such pretentious settings, but membership was one of the many perks of my employment at Wotherspoon and Associates. As a law student at Aldensburg University, I had interned at the corporate law firm and had been offered a position after I’d passed the bar five years ago. Aldensburg was not as premier a college when compared to the Ivies; in fact most people have never heard of it. But, like me, it got the job done. And professionally the job I was trying to get done now was making partner. I know it was an ambitious goal, but I had nothing but faith in my skills to make it happen.

For the moment I was there at The Equity in my sagging basketball shorts and stretched-out T-shirt, standing amid chichi air kissers. I was not there to hobnob; I actually had a serious goal. I worked out not only to maintain my body but to keep my mind sharp, focused, and ready at all times. That was what separated me from those people. I was a shark among peacocks.

The cheerless receptionist with the sucked-in cheeks eyed me as I stepped through the door. I could see her hostile nostrils widen like a bull’s as she feigned a barely polite smile. She knew who I was but played this ridiculous game with me every day. Always pretending not to know me.

“I’m sorry, sir. You must be looking for the gym down the street.”

That was her way of telling me that my choice of clothing was not up to par, and I might consider some more appropriate attire. I had known plenty of people like her growing up and knew that the best way to handle her was to be in her face every chance I got, to be the proverbial pebble in her shoe. I swiped my security pass card and told her, “See you tomorrow.”

The Equity was an “it” destination for celebrities and all manner of the rich and powerful. The entry level consisted of a wide, stark-white hallway with electric-blue tube lights lining the walls and ceiling, and filled with the ethereal melody of a string orchestra. This main hallway connected with several more, with the last one ending a spacious, low-lit lounge area. Scattered about were suede couches and glass tables; black-and-white photos of perfectly sculpted body parts hung on the walls. This was where those who came to be seen strategically posed themselves just in case an undercover paparazzo managed to sneak in. The lounge was usually empty in the morning because its denizens could not manage to roll out of bed until well into the afternoon.

I made my way across the rugs to yet another hall that led to a bank of elevators. I pushed the “up” button, eager to start my workout. Then I heard the quick click clack of feminine footsteps come up behind me. I sighed because I knew those shoes—probably high heels—were not made for running. This was just another pampered pest whose idea of working out was getting a massage. I did not even have to turn around to figure this chick out.

Her heavy perfume was layered with the fresh smell of soap and shampoo. Typical of someone who saw the gym as a social occasion rather than a place to exercise. I never had patience with lackadaisical people who were not willing to put in the effort to achieve anything. I wanted so badly to turn around and say, “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be having Sunday brunch over at Peacock Alley?”  

However, I was not there to judge. I was there to work out. But I was curious as to who was standing behind me. I looked into the stainless-steel door of the elevator to see if I could make out the reflection. The dull surface only revealed that the grayish silhouette behind me was tall and lanky. Not as tall as me at six foot three, but tall nonetheless.  

Then a hoard of more click-clacking footsteps arrived, accompanied by raucously shrill voices greeting the first woman. I thought, Oh god. Jersey girls.

“Lilly!” they all screamed in unison.

The first woman, Lilly, chirped back. “Sweetie pies, how are you?” 

One nasally voice responded, “Fine if you like your nipples turning into Popsicles. It’s cold as hell out there. What’s on your agenda today? ”

“Pilates with Jean-Paul. Thirty minutes.”

“What is he? A slave driver?” another woman said seriously with a croaky smoker’s voice.

“I know, right?” Lilly agreed. All I could do was roll my eyes at that nonsense.    

Lilly had an odd way of speaking that only a discerning ear could pick up. She was trying her best to affect a newscaster accent, that plain Midwestern way of speaking. However, she would occasionally slip into an upward inflection that made every sentence sound like a question. She was definitely a So-Cal transplant. It was beyond me why, in the midst of shudder-inducing Jersey accents, Lilly hid her natural one.

As the elevator numbers slowly ticked down, I noticed in my peripheral vision the number of men passing. They were all doing double takes at Lilly. Either she was gorgeous or hideous beyond measure. Either way, it did not matter to me. I had seen plenty of both and was not swayed by the slop or gloss of anything. An ethics professor a long way back even accused me of being jaded. What he could not understand was that when your life has been a trial by fire, you see things differently from most. The world and all the people in it are just opportunities for you to get what you need. You can’t depend on anyone but yourself. When you have lived in a cushioned bubble like the professor, you just don’t get that. Needless to say I barely passed that class.

The elevator finally arrived, and the herd of new-money cows stampeded past me to get in. I turned back, and Lilly was waiting for me to usher her out like I was the doorman. Sure enough she was decked out in black from head to toe—leggings, turtleneck, and those clacking ankle boots. She had a leather bag brimming with Voss water and vitamin blister packs. She appeared to be in her early twenties, so I was perplexed as to why she needed so many pills.

Still, I must admit that I was taken aback by how beautiful she was. Her hair, pushed back and glossed into a tight bun, reminded me of dark honey, and her graceful, lithe body looked like that of a ballet dancer. And those eyes—they were extraordinarily large orbs of malachite rimmed in chestnut. However, no matter how pouty her dewy lips were, Lilly still acted like an entitled elitist, so pampered that she probably considered Park Slope to be the ghetto.

I watched her standing there looking at me. This woman was used to people fawning all over her, and I was not one to do that. I did not grovel or bow down to anybody. But no matter what I felt about her at the moment, I decided to do the gentlemanly thing.

“Ladies first,” I said.

Lilly sashayed past me and joined her tacky and deeply moneyed crew. As she crossed the threshold of the elevator, she gave me a “thanks” that was nowhere near sincere. I spent the elevator ride to the third floor listening to her companions’ boisterous gossip about other women at the club. Yet I did not hear Lilly utter any comment. I just felt her eyes laser beaming my back. Apparently she was still shocked and pissed that I didn’t think she was the shit.

* * *

“Lilly, you forgot your water,” Jean-Paul yelled out to me. He had been my Pilates instructor for the past six years—my entire time in New York. After I finished my thirty-minute workout with him, I got some fresh acrylics in the spa. I was preparing for an interview with Paramour Life, fashion’s most prominent magazine, later that afternoon. Though I was modeling, the interview was not about me. It was really about my boyfriend of two years, Sig Krok. Sig had come from Sweden twenty years ago and started his own fashion house, Klå. Klå. It quickly became one of the best-selling clothing lines in the world.

This article would be a tribute to Sig. The magazine just wanted my perspective of him and a little insider knowledge of our highly visible yet terribly private relationship.  

With discreet sleight of hand, Jean-Paul handed me my property, and it was not really water. It was my bottle of Klonopin.

“I know how important water is,” he said then quickly dismissed himself to his next scheduled client. I watched him for a moment. I was in awe and bewilderment over how he mastered the art of prancing and swaying like a seasoned burlesque dancer. He really had to teach me that sometime.

Realizing I was running out of time before the interview and still had to get my makeup done, I abruptly turned around to leave. And I turned right into Mr. Scowl—the guy at the elevator this morning. Aw, just great, I thought.

“Excuse me,” I said as I started walking away. By then he had put on some more weather-appropriate clothing—jeans and a cable-knit sweater with a white T-shirt underneath. And the creep did not even respond to me, smirking his arrogant mouth instead. Even though he was pompous, he was kind of cute. Though it was the middle of winter, his skin looked sun kissed. He was a giant of a man, well over six feet tall. His luminous, copper eyes seemed like they were always narrowed, like he was annoyed with people because they were merely human and could not withstand his survey.

I headed toward the elevator, and he did the same. When we got there, I started pushing buttons in hopes it would make the elevator come faster. The bell dinged, and he let me on first. I could tell he didn’t want to but was trying to be The Man.

We stood in opposite corners. By then most men would have engaged me in conversation. He hadn’t. Was he gay? No, I had a fairly accurate gaydar. What was wrong with him then? I was becoming increasingly irritated by this man’s presence. I glanced over at him. He was wiping his sweaty brow, and his hand pushed up his cap a bit, exposing his inky hair cut with perfect precision around the edges. The cap was thready and had a large A on the front. He probably had gotten it from some college a while back. I also noticed that on the underside of the cap’s bill, he had written his name in permanent marker: Cam.  

Even though he grated on me, I could not help but be distracted by his body. He had Adonis-like shoulders, broad and protective. His thick thighs were agape, his wide stance taking up a good deal of space. This square-jawed man was definitely broody, but even without a smile, I could make out the dimple in his cheek. And I did not even want to get started on the size of his hands and feet. They were enormous.

The air vent was blowing a light, steady stream of air across Cam. I inhaled the heady scent of his newly sweaty body intermingled with a woodsy deodorant. I leaned in his direction. One of my eyes went on autopilot and fluttered—that thing that happens when something is real good. I took another breath and leaned in some more.  

Wait! What…the fuck…am I doing? I caught myself right before my nose landed on Cam’s arm. And there he was with the same “what the fuck?” look. He was staring at me going for his pit with my crazy eye. He obviously thought I was about to rape him.

Quick, deflect. I pointed at my ear. “I thought you said something.” I regained my composure and returned my gaze forward.

But he sure did smell good. And boy, was I horny.

Whatever. I wasn’t going to say anything else to Cam. He was still nothing but an aloof, smug asshole to me. And I had to endure what seemed like a forever ride to the first floor with him. I turned my face back to the elevator doors with just the sound of the motors and cables to break the silence.

I was so relieved to get out of the elevator, I practically sprinted into the parking garage. I slung my faux fur over my shoulders as I rushed to Sig’s Infiniti QX80. Cam was trailing me, sliding into his leather jacket. And I just knew he was about to ask me for my number despite that fiasco in the elevator. Maybe I hadn’t lost my touch. I was prepared to shoot him down, of course. But he sure was taking his time. I was already at Sig’s SUV.

However, not only did Cam not ask me for my number, he was only walking behind me because he had parked his powerful, black Harley 1200 Custom next to me. He spread his thick legs and straddled it then put on his Aviator sunglasses and revved up his baby. I had to say, that motorcycle…the way it just hung between his legs…looked more like a big, hard dick than anything else.

Cam turned the twist grip like it was his cock and throttled up. The rumble from the motorcycle bounced off the concrete walls of the garage. It was almost deafening. He didn’t care. In fact, if I hadn’t known any better, I would have sworn he’d done it on purpose. I was totally conflicted. Never had I so detested a man and still wanted to fuck the skin off his dick at the same time.

Alas, Cam drove off without even looking in my direction. I let out an audible gasp. No straight male ever looked at me and just turned away.

Hmm…maybe my gaydar was in need of a tune-up.

Cover Reveal for Luca by Gina Whitney!!

Title: Luca: I Love the Way You Lie Novel

Author: Gina Whitney

Genre: Erotica
Cover Designed by: Regina Wamba at Mae I Design & Photography
Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Blurb:

“Anger is like a thorn in the heart...the roar of my courage and the cold sweat of my fear.” ~Luca Pyromania is an impulse control disorder [1] in which individuals repeatedly fail to resist impulses to deliberately start fires, [1] in order to relieve tension or for instant gratification. Damon Luca, or Luca as they called him. I thought of him more as Damien, the fucking devil within these walls that now is my life. Dark, broody, and deadly to any woman. Mind-blowing, soul-shaking, raw sex appeal. He was a tall statured boy with broad shoulders and a pair of green eyes that set my soul on fire. His inky black hair framed his hard, chiseled features. He had the type of body that had no business being on a seventeen-year-old. I knew that once he fully developed, he'd be nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous. As I said...deadly on the eyes...and dangerous for your heart. My name is Allison. I met Luca through an unfortunate event when we were younger. I’m now twenty-four, and this is my story. My fucked up life. It's not a pretty one. Then again, the most interesting ones aren't...are they? This isn't your usual love story. Anything but. There are no blue skies, rainbows, or unicorns. Only him...my own personal arsonist. He had the ability to set my panties on fire, leave my body smoldering, and turn my heart into burning embers. He scared the hell out of me, made me feel. He opened my eyes to the world of twisted love. But love no less. This scary, beautiful man stole my heart from a young, tender age and refused to give it back. Here’s our story… This story is deep, dark, and deals with real scars and growth because of them. 

Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.

Links:

Goodreads

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon

Review for Forgiving Gia by Gina Whitney!!

Title: Forgiving Gia (Rocker Series: Two)

Author: Gina Whitney

Genre: Erotica BDSM
Cover Designed by: Regina Wamba at Mae I Design & Photography

Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Blurb:
Abel Gunner is a Dom rock-star with legendary skills in the bedroom. He swore he wouldn’t fall for another women after scheming manipulative Morgana. Until, he met his new Sub Gia Mastro. His darkened soul longed for her submission, affection, and ultimately love. Her pain brings the pleasure he craves. They share a deep connection that has him craving the love he never asked for. Her smile calms the beast that rages within. Gia loves Abel more than life itself. But, Abel is devastated by what he perceives as lies and deceit and threatens to destroy what little happiness Gia’s ever known. Her life hangs in the balance. His life depends on forgiving her. This couple must face many truths: Is love enough to overcome the damage that dwells within? Gia’s experiences with love have been nil. Until meeting the infamous bad-boy rocker Abel Gunner. Swept up in a mind-bending Dom/Submissive love affair she’s force to make decisions that have both helped and hurt their relationship. Gia’s mother has betrayed her in the worst possible way. Abel’s ex-girlfriend Morgana an unbearable thorn. When she wakes her reality is stripped of meaning. Abel, has walked away from her leaving her imprisoned with torment within her own mind. They both have to face their demons before they can embrace a future together. In the end, they’re faced with two choices: Fight for love or die with their demons.

Click HERE to add it to your Goodreads TBR list!! 

THE REVIEW

First let me say this.... if you don't like erotica or aren't comfortable with the BDSM lifestyle, then this book isn't for you.  Also you must read Saving Abel first before you read this book.

Now, onto the review!!  

I have been impatiently waiting for this book to come out... from the moment Saving Abel ended, I was bugging Gina about when this book would be done.  I had to read it.  I HAD TO!!!!  

Gia is heartbroken over Abel turning his back and leaving her... so much so she makes a devastating decision.  Seeing her absolute devastation is heartbreaking, but she gets help in the most surprising person. A person who wants to get her back with Abel and have them stay together this time.  

Once Abel finds out what happened after he left and is reunited with her, he's heartbroken, and sets about making it up to her.  He realizes he's been lied to about Gia by people who want to bring her down, but knows they belong together.  They are both broken, dealing with demons of their own, but together they realize they are stronger together.  

What they don't expect is that someone is helping the woman out to break them apart.  They don't know who, but Abel is determined to find out and take care of them.  The last thing he wants is for Gia to be hurt again.  

I honestly read this book in less then a day!!  I could.not.stop.reading.it!!  Within the first fifteen minutes I had fallen in love with Abel all over again!!  For Gia, being back with her man is everything for her.  She knows she's in danger, but she loves him completely and does not want to lose him. She understands him better then most people would, and he loves her more for it.  

*********

THE AUTHOR

 

Author Bio:

Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.

Links:

Goodreads

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon
Blog

Buy Links:

AmazonUS
Amazon UK
iTunes
Kobo
B&N

Forgiving Gia’s playlist

Take Me Home ~ Cash Cash

Chandelier ~ Sia

The Worst ~ Jhene Aiko

One Wing ~ Jordan Sparks

Love Will ~ Jordan Sparks

Always ~ Bon Jovi

Make A Memory ~ Bon Jove

Blurry ~ Puddle Of Mud

Riptide ~ Sick Of Puppies

Send the Pain Below ~ Chevelle

Through Glass ~ Stone Sour

You ~ Breaking Benjamin

Lips Of An Angel ~ Hinder

Same Old War ~ Our Last Night

Radioactive ~ Our Last Night

Dark Horse ~ Our Last Night

Addicted ~ Saving Abel

Skin ~ Sixx: A.M.

Better Than Me ~ Hinder

Release Day Blitz for Forgiving Gia by Gina Whitney!!

Title: Finding Gia (Rocker Series: Two)

Author: Gina Whitney

Genre: Erotica BDSM
Cover Designed by: Regina Wamba at Mae I Design & Photography

Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours

Blurb: Abel Gunner is a Dom rock-star with legendary skills in the bedroom. He swore he wouldn’t fall for another women after scheming manipulative Morgana. Until, he met his new Sub Gia Mastro. His darkened soul longed for her submission, affection, and ultimately love. Her pain brings the pleasure he craves. They share a deep connection that has him craving the love he never asked for. Her smile calms the beast that rages within. Gia loves Abel more than life itself. But, Abel is devastated by what he perceives as lies and deceit and threatens to destroy what little happiness Gia’s ever known. Her life hangs in the balance. His life depends on forgiving her. This couple must face many truths: Is love enough to overcome the damage that dwells within? Gia’s experiences with love have been nil. Until meeting the infamous bad-boy rocker Abel Gunner. Swept up in a mind-bending Dom/Submissive love affair she’s force to make decisions that have both helped and hurt their relationship. Gia’s mother has betrayed her in the worst possible way. Abel’s ex-girlfriend Morgana an unbearable thorn. When she wakes her reality is stripped of meaning. Abel, has walked away from her leaving her imprisoned with torment within her own mind. They both have to face their demons before they can embrace a future together. In the end, they’re faced with two choices: Fight for love or die with their demons.

 Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.

Links:

Goodreads

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon
Blog

Pre – Order Link:

*Amazon US *Amazon UK *iTunes*Kobo*

 

Forgiving Gia’s playlist

Take Me Home ~ Cash Cash

Chandelier ~ Sia

The Worst ~ Jhene Aiko

One Wing ~ Jordan Sparks

Love Will ~ Jordan Sparks

Always ~ Bon Jovi

Make A Memory ~ Bon Jove

Blurry ~ Puddle Of Mud

Riptide ~ Sick Of Puppies

Send the Pain Below ~ Chevelle

Through Glass ~ Stone Sour

You ~ Breaking Benjamin

Lips Of An Angel ~ Hinder

Same Old War ~ Our Last Night

Radioactive ~ Our Last Night

Dark Horse ~ Our Last Night

Addicted ~ Saving Abel

Skin ~ Sixx: A.M.

Better Than Me ~ Hinder

Book Blitz for Saving Abel by Gina Whitney!!

Title: Saving Abel (Rocker Series: One)

Author: Gina Whitney

Genre: Erotica BDSM

Hosted by: Lady Amber's Tours 

Blurb: Abel Gunner, the lead singer of the band Lethal Abel, is what beautiful nightmares are made of. His gritty, melodic rasp threatens to rip your heart out of your chest and leave you gasping for the very breath he robbed you of. His kisses, detonating on impact, leave you ruined. Abel is also a Dom, and his appetite for seduction is legendary and intense. After a chance encounter with Gia, his need to dominate this woman increases tenfold. He wants to consume her, merge with her, and never leave her body. Abel's emerald eyes touch the deepest part of Gia's soul in a way that terrifies her. She fears he can see her secret. Lies, guilt, and betrayal lay beneath her skin, and she's terrified of being exposed. How will Gia ever begin to explain? She doesn't believe she's worthy of him, and her greatest fear is that her carefully guarded heart will be shattered. However, she finds herself unable to deny this rogue tattooed rocker whose kisses just might ruin her.

Author Bio: Gina Whitney grew up reading Judy Blume, and Nancy Drew books. She was raised in the town of North Valley Stream, New York(Long Island)and attended community college for fashion design. At 19 she opened a boutique. She recently published her first paranormal romance novel Blood Ties. When she's not writing, she's hanging with family and friends. She shares a home with her wonderful son’s PJ and Drew, and their 200lb Mastiff Hercules. She currently lives in Massapequa, New York. Reading has always been a passion and obsession. You can usually find her typing furiously while shouting obscenities over her latest work. She also enjoys a good laugh, being snarky, espresso, and above all steamy swooning angst filled novels. She's pathologically obsessed with True Blood(Eric ;), Games of Thrones, Borgias, Vampire Diaries and Originals. You can also find her chatting it up with readers on Facebook.

Links:

Goodreads

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon
Blog

Buy Links:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Kobo

Click HERE to pre-order Forgiving Gia by Author Gina Whitney
To Be Released on October 20, 2014

                                      The Dungeon I

On ecru initialed paper the understanding was brutally clear … You’re to be blindfolded and waiting on your knees for your Master. I reread a couple of times, my hands shaking with both fear of the unknown and the excitement of being delivered to the brink of aching pleasure. Man, I was fucked!

Folding the note in half perfectly seaming the edges, I wondered if I was biting off more than I could chew. The fluttering in my stomach mounted to upchuck levels as I picked up the Hermes silk scarf. I gentled it along my cheek before breathing in his alpha scent. Him. My eyes closed of their own accord, heart beating in concert with my pussy.  My clit was charged and primed already with my juices, the inner demonness scratching the surface of my psyche, relentlessly thrashing against confinement.

Twirling around in a sexual dream-state, my eyes took in floor-to-ceiling windows, lush drapes pulled back. Gasping heavily, I held my hand over my heart to keep the fucker in there. Was he planning to take me in the open—voyeur delight?  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Then again this was about surrendering. A place my control had no say.

On the left was a free-standing bar, his guitar leaning against it.  Chrystal decanters lined the top. Amber-colored courage called out to my parched throat, begging, needing something to quell the tremors plaguing my body. I couldn’t. Could I?  Or was that breaking the rules? I couldn’t afford to piss him off, nor did I want to. I wanted to please him, to hand over the keys to my soul for him to take up occupancy. I needed to take purchase of the prime piece of real-estate—his heart.

Old demons besieged me with their clever mind tricks, fighting their way to the surface—sneering that I would lose the man I’d come to love because of my deceitful heart. The mother of all motherfucking karma’s was going to bite my ass—hard. I needed to lock these incessant nauseating thoughts where they belonged—behind a door that had no moral key and slam it shut.

Looking to the left, I saw the fire raging in the pastoral-styled fireplace. Above me, the erotic portrait of Abel loomed. In one hand he was holding a set of handcuffs, and in the other a red scarf—the exact red scarf I was now holding in my hand.

Perfect spot! Unbuttoning my pants and blouse, letting them both pool at my feet, I then took off my bra and panties. Flames licked my skin, helping to ease the goose bumps stepping out all over my body. Double-knotting the scarf, I lowered myself to my knees, thankful for the plush carpet. I sent a silent prayer of gratitude upwards—even though God had no place here today. Today, I would be rejoicing, reveling in and partaking of rituals practiced by heathens.

Tempering my breathing, I thought to myself: Namaste. But then the squeak of the door knob stopped all thought—all thinking—sending a shiver down my spine.  His innate maleness seeped into my pores, cocooning my skin in his alpha scent—marking my heart as his. Instantly, my body recognized him. An unwilling groan escaped me as my nether regions clenched in anticipation. He just chuckled. 

                                                                        ~~~

"Very good. I see you followed my directions flawlessly. I see that beautiful pussy’s shaved bare for me. This pleases me, Gia. And you will see how much very shortly. But, are you ready for your Master?  If I part your folds, will you be slick and hot for me?" His warm breath tickled my ear.

My mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, until I finally croaked out, "Um, yes. I, um. I believe so, Abel.”  Christ, why was I reduced to a stuttering adolescent? He was fucking dangerous and hot, that was why! Steeling myself, I needed to woman the fuck up and show him who I really was.

Palming my chin he spoke gruffly. “Love, when we’re in this setting, I am your God, bringer of pleasure and pain.” He released me, clearly awaiting my praises.

“Yes, Sir. I understand perfectly,” I affirmed. My body chilled, knowing the moment he stepped away. The ring of the crystal decanter signaled loudly in the air. Rolling shudders had me clenching—hard. Moments ticked by at a snail’s pace, and I wanted to rip my hair out, my frustration building as he took his time, leaving me in this vulnerable position. He swallowed his drink. Padding back over in my direction, he brought that delicious signature scent of his my way.  It smelled of musk and something wild I couldn’t put my finger on.

“I’m going to taste you now,” he declared. What? Christ on a motherfuckin’ cross! Two thick fingers teased my clit round and round, spreading my silky juices along my seam, preparing me for his invasion. I held my breath. What else could I do?

“You smell like you want to be fucked.” He smiled appreciatively. “Breathe, Gia. Your God would like to sample you. I want to commit your taste to memory. Savor you on my tongue. Swallow your goodness,” he rasped, leaning into my ear. I wanted to scream just do it already. His beard scruffed against my face as he lowered his mouth down to my ear. Every breath, every heartbeat, every swallow, was mine, here. I had a front row seat to an erotic movie I was starring in.

Holding my shoulders firmly with his left hand, he roughly entered my opening. One breath in, one long breath out.  With precision, he inserted two fingers inside me, keeping his thumb on my trigger. I ground against his palm.

“You will not come—yet. Stay still or I’ll stop,” he affirmed.  Well, that did it! I needed release and needed it now. Fuck. Squeezing my eyes tightly, I was thankful for the blind-fold. He had to see how challenging this was for me. With a final stretching thrust he vacated my pussy. Pussy juice permeated the air, releasing another gush of wetness. His sucking sound ended with a loud pop, followed by a growl of approval.

“Taste.” He fisted my hair, driving his fingers into my open mouth.

“Taste how sweet your pussy is?” he queried. I had the perfect opportunity to bring him to his knees. My tongue languidly snaked its way around his fingers, sucking greedily any remaining ambrosia—with my own kickass resounding pop. Umm… I purred my contentment. 

A seismic roar rumbled its way free from his alpha chest. Oh, he was affected. Breaking dominant control momentarily, he lunged forward, fisting my hair, his tongue forcing my mouth open. Damn this Dom! My lungs fought for air. My hands braced against his muscled chest, alive with the vibrations from the beast tethered within—Abel. Dizziness threatened to take me under. Pulling air into my nose, I took a deep breath. Consuming me from the inside out, he didn’t let up. Apparently, my survival was to be damned. Now I needed to return his kiss. My hands found their way up his neck to his thick hair.  Grabbing a fistful, I pulled. He answered my call with his masterful tongue and gnashing teeth. Needing his cock in my pussy now, I reached for it, feeling its thick steeliness through his jeans. He gently removed my hands.  Disappointed, I lowered my head, taking the opportunity to nourish my blood with oxygen. He forced my hands behind my back. I sat on the back of my knees to steady myself.

“You have to earn that, babe. You haven’t earned my cock yet. And he has a bigger ego then I do.” He chuckled as he stood up, leaving me again. Was he serious? His dick had an ego?

Some shuffling of drawers opening and closing to my left had me turning my head in that direction. My legs tingled with anticipation and lack of activity. I hoped I wasn’t going to be on my knees too much longer. The snap of something caught my immediate attention. Licking my dry lips, swallowing the golf ball-sized knot, I readied myself. Sweet-smelling leather assailed my senses.

“Do you know what the Cat o' nine tails is, Gia?” he asked. I had done some googling before this night, so I wouldn’t be ignorant to basic BDSM—knots, whips and positions 101. I had schooled myself quickly.

“Yes, Sir. A traditionally favored whip with nine separate tails,” I qualified. Quirking a smile, I awaited his answer. He replied by running the tails along my breasts … down to my pussy … snapping my clit to attention. Over and over again my body became acquainted with this new form of torture. Legs shaking, I thrust myself to an upright position, hoping this little exercise would stop this embarrassing bodily display of minor earthquakes. No such luck. My body wanted to surrender to its Master. My breathing ratcheted to panic-attack levels. An explosion of epic proportions was near. Whack!—across my behind. Ow! Fuck me!

“Not nearly yet, sweetheart. That nice shade of red on your ass is making me hard as fuck, though,” he countered. Well, that’s not how I really meant it, but that’s exactly what I wanted—right the fuck now. He was turned on. And that turned me on. If his lash marks on my skin did it for him, I thought—then so be it.

“I want to taste you, Master. It’s only fair.” I was practically whining: throw me a fucking bone! This BDSM shit was killing me. I was not a patient person by nature. So I deserved a reward for the restraint I’d been practicing today. The sound of his zipper lowering caught my attention. The lava started to trickle down my legs again.

“Is this what you want, pretty girl?” He stepped up, smearing his pre-come on my lips. I moaned embarrassingly loud.

“Yes! More!” I demanded. He presented his cock to my tongue.  It stroked his piercings. Fuck me.

Expertly I lavished it with my tongue, paying homage to this rock God. Maybe his cock deserved its own zip code? This was a locale I wanted to move to—like, now. Pushing forward I sought his engorged balls. Licking, flickering, and tonguing at break-neck speed to the best of my ability, I made him roar. He ripped the scarf off, freeing my eyes from their prison.

Although my sight was restored, I still couldn’t see clearly. Squinting, I looked up towards his beautiful face—and even through the blurriness, I could tell that it was twisted in agony. He needed release. His eyes sparking with warning, he looked as if his thread-like hold on reality was virtually nonexistent. A sardonic smile wrenched his lips as he continued stroking his cock. Up. Down. Up. Twist. Down. Release. Up. Twist. Down. Release. His left hand squeezed his tightened sack roughly, his eyes glistening. His tongue snaked out to wet his plump lips. His sooty-lashed eyes closed for a moment as he blew out a long breath, battling for control. I gulped—hard. Something sparkly caught my upturned eyes, bringing my gaze back to his sack.

“Like what you see, babe?” He smiled proudly. His tatted cock was a kaleidoscope of vivid colors. The body of the dragon was done in green with the underside in orange scales, the whole length of his cock ending with the dragon’s head on his dick-head. His Apadravya shone brightly against the dragon’s head, looking like it was coming out of its mouth. His Mons provided the backdrop for the wings. He was a work of art I intended to worship fully. I tilted my head awkwardly left, then right. The head of his dick was pierced, and all along the dragon’s scaled underside were generous loops.

“Ya like those frenum loops, babe? Ya like that one through the head, the Apadravya? You’ll be thanking me soon for it.” His toothy smile made me blush at my naiveté. He took my lip-licking as a signal for further instruction in How to Suck Abel’s Cock 101.

“Relax. Open real wide. Get it nice and wet,” he instructed.

Relaxing my gag reflex as per his orders, I readied my throat for his invasion. Not only did I have to worry about his girth, but I had to guard against his hardware as well. My mouth was desert-dry, so I pursed my lips to conjure up enough saliva to get the job done. The wide tip of his cock made its way past my lips, netting a groan from me of appreciation for this male, as I lavished the small beads of pre-come on my tongue, relishing his heady taste. God damn. His hooded eyes caught mine as I acquiesced. I closed my eyes and sucked his head hard with a quick swirl around his Apadravya. I spit into my palm, pumping his cock once. Twice. His throaty groan made my clit swell. I loved his male sounds. I knew I was doing this right. I wanted more. More of him. More of that noise. Widening my mouth even further, I took his cock in deeply, paying close attention to his frenum loops with my tongue. The jingling within my mouth had me shuddering. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Tongue. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. Up. Down. Twist. Suck. Gag. His fingers found their home, deeply embedding in my scalp, the pain making my eyes mist. Licking from base to tip, I was on repeat. His eyes bored into me, watching me intently, appreciatively.

So I gave him one final swirling suck, letting my lips pop loudly. Then I tried the impossible:  to swallow him whole. Breathing through my nose, I watched. He watched. I swallowed. The thickness of his cock swelling was all the indication I needed. He was ready to blow—hard. My throat relaxed and opened to accommodate his girth further. Abel hissed and thrusted deeply. Once. Twice. Three times. He growled loudly, face-fucking me into oblivion. Surprising even myself, I swallowed his gift of spicy goodness, humming my appreciation to this deity. Swallowing it down and tongue-sucking his Apadravya, I inwardly smiled as I milked every last drop of elixir.

                                                                        ~~~

With a final groan I fell back and let the fibers of the rug absorb my fatigue. Mentally and physically, I was wiped out. I rubbed my fingers through the filaments, trying desperately to soothe my restless soul. At the moment, I didn’t care where he was or what he was doing. His gentle fingers caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch.

“Oh babe, we’re not done. Come, I’ll carry you to my bedroom.” He bent down and scooped me up. Swaddled in his arms, I caught the look in his hooded eyes. A few long strides, and we were in his room. He gently laid me on his king-sized bed, then stepped back.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Care to join?” He motioned his hand to the bathroom in invitation.

“Nah, I’m good here for now. You go. If I change my mind, I’ll find you.” I smiled sleepily.

He nodded and left through the en-suite. Raising myself up on my forearms, I took in the room. Monochromatic black and white made up a majority of his palate choice, aside from his poppy-red silk shantung comforter. Everything was simple, yet elegant. It was clear that Abel sought the comfort of home and all of his familiar possessions. I guessed life on the road really was lonely.

Cocooning myself in the lush bedding, I concluded there was no better place to be. And no better thing than his scent. Lord above, if I could bottle his essence, I’d be a wealthy chick.  Grabbing his pillow I brought it to my nose, inhaling his heady alpha smell. A groan escaped me, and my clit was beyond engorged: it needed release—again. I needed to steal this pillow.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his smile reaching his eyes. I cursed inwardly. Busted. He reached for my legs and pulled me across the bed. Holy shit. His eyes were alit with mischief. He pulled me until my bottom was at the end of the bed. I laid there naked and began to feel self-conscious. I turned to grab the edge of the comforter.

“Don’t hide your body from me, Gia. Spread your legs for me. I want to see what’s mine. I want to taste your nectar,” he commanded—and I obeyed, spreading my legs.

When he didn’t respond, I grew anxious. There was a mirror on the wall next to the bed and I could see my reflection in it. What a turn-on. Me watching him—us, as his eyes devoured my pussy. He removed his towel from his waist and turned to see me watching tentatively in the mirror. He grabbed hold of his thick cock, stroking and smiling, as he watched me for a good long-ass minute. This was all one big mind fuck—and I was barely holding my own. My blood boiled while I watched his erotic exhibition. Boy, was he ever a showman. He knelt down and seized both my thighs, pulling them back into a V across my chest. The image of us in the mirror was arousing. He pressed his nose along my pussy, inhaling deeply.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Gia. I’m a man starved for this pussy. When I’m done, I’m going to fuck you like the devil. My cock will be everything you’ve wished for, babe.” He winked. Cocky motherfucker. Holding my legs in place, he dove face-first into my pussy, pushing his tongue deep inside me—growling, devouring me whole. The sounds of him sucking, licking, and nipping my pussy made my muscles lock up. I reached for his hair. I needed to touch him. I wanted to hold his head to my pussy until I was good and ready to let go.

“Gia, put your damn hands above your head or I will tie you to the bed,” he growled. I acquiesced. I would have fucking died or killed someone if he had stopped. Oh God, don’t stop.

“God has no place here, babe.” His voice was demonic. Had I just said that aloud? Never lifting his face from his meal, he pushed my knees almost flush against my chest, lathering his face in my juice. Oh, God. His growling, biting, and sucking were sounds I would never forget. He was feral. Possessed. Using two fingers, he starting finger-fucking me as he sucked my clit. My legs shaking with deep vibrations, I started to rock my hips. Twisting the comforter in my hands, I began screaming. But he wouldn’t let up. The rumbling from his chest I barely registered as I floated back down to earth. My eyes now opened to a savage beast, leaning over to bite my inner thing. I yelped in surprise. He stood tall and proud, stoking his long, thick, massive cock, his face still glistening with my come. Nothing registered to this alpha. He had one thing on his mind and that was sinking his gorgeous cock into my soaked pussy.

“You want this cock now, babe?” he asked through gritted teeth.  Still stroking it, he spit in his hand. Fucking hell.

“Please, Abel. I want you now,” I begged. I needed him now.

“Need to hear you say it, babe. Tell me you want me to sink my cock deep in you.” His voice was barely audible.

The grit in his tone had me wanting to grab his dick and fuck myself with it. He was watching me closely, his control threadbare.

“Abel, fuck me with that big gorgeous cock of yours. Grind that piercing over my clit,” I hissed. That did it! He couldn’t wait another minute—neither could I. He teased the entrance with the head. Going agonizingly slow, he paid special attention to my clit with his Apadravya: back and forth, round and round. The pressure mounted. I couldn’t handle another second of the exquisite torture. I leaned forward and grabbed his cock—hard.

“Stop fucking with me, fucker, and fuck me already,” I pleaded. He answered by feeding me his cock—one motherfucking inch at the time.

“I have to loosen you up a bit. I can’t go balls-deep yet. Let me work myself in there. Love my girl greedy for my cock. Gets me harder than fucking stone.” He growled breathlessly. Leaning over me, his eyes hooded, he fed me his delicious, scorching cock. He leaned down over my face, arms positioned on either side of my head. His warm breath hummed in my ear, as his hand reached down to stroke my clit.

“Come on, babe. Open for me,” he rumbled. Thrusting a bit harder and quicker, I felt my body breaking apart for this mythical creature. My eyes closed tightly as I tried to wrap my legs around his waist to lock him in place.

“Not yet, babe. I haven’t worked in my rings yet. I’ll tell you when you need to hang on.” He nipped my ear. I sighed. Fuck, I had thought he was all the way in! Christ, I wasn’t built for this kind of torment. I reached down to his butt cheeks and clamped down with my hands, pulling him deeper inside me. He corkscrewed his ass over and over. I screamed in pleasure.

“That’s it, mama. Scream for me. You’ll be doing a lot more of that,” he exclaimed. Biting my lip to stay in the present and not float away, I took a mental screenshot of the moment. I felt so full, with my walls stretched to accommodate his girth. With each thrust he sank deeper. And I fell a little harder. Yeah, I was fucked. Literally. The sound of my blood pumping through my veins roared in my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was my breathing or his. It was a hodgepodge of ecstatic noises. He placed his hands over mine, pinning them above my head.

“Arch your back for me, babe, and spread those pretty legs nice and wide. I’m going to own this pussy right the fuck now,” he hissed. I did as he asked, completely submitting. After all, this was what he had asked for: total and utter submission.

“That’s it, babe. Offer me that sweet cunt,” he whispered. How did he make my least favorite word sound like a fucking sonnet? I felt so incredible—so alive, our bodies in tune with one another, rutting rhythmically in a crescendo of lust, his frenum rings hitting spots I’d never sensed before. He manipulated my body with expert precision. I regarded his handsome face, relishing this beautiful man on top of me. His eyes bore into me with stealth-precision. Looking directly into my soul, he smiled wickedly, then kissed me deeply. Arrogant prick. Yeah, he knew he was the best ride in town. Fuck me.

Grinding my heels into the mattress to get better leverage, I met him thrust for thrust. He moved his fingers from my clit. With his other hand still pinning my arms above my head, he pushed my right thigh up from under my knee. Just then he hit a whole new angle and I lost it. Screaming his name, I clenched my pussy, squeezing his cock. As he jack-hammered me, I felt his head swell further. He released my hands, rushing to his knees. After a few long strokes of his dick, his hot thick ropes of come painted my tits and stomach. Yeah, he was an artist, all right. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted. His breathing was hurried, his body still. He looked like a fucking God—absolutely stunning. I would never get this image out of my head.

He opened his eyes finally—to see his handiwork, watching me closely. I smiled in post-coital bliss. I was blissed the fuck out. He leaned over and on top of me, kissing me with his full lips, coaxing my mouth open with his talented, wicked tongue, not caring that his come was smeared all over his body. Most men would mind. But he wasn’t most men.  I accepted his kisses with a moan.

He kissed me for a long while until sleep drew me under. I slept without dreams, with just the sensation floating behind my eyelids of colorful pastel swirls. If I had any conscious thought it felt much akin to Alice and the rabbit hole. My body was enveloped in his scent, marking me right down to the bone. I would forever be his—whether he knew it or not. His to control. His to do with as he wished. His to consume, to eat away at my very soul. I was in that deep. My veins ran with his essence, the fuel, the nourishment, my body craved. His melodic gritty voice carried me to the surface of consciousness. It was faint, but it spoke to my heart—awakening me.

I opened my eyes, seeking him out. He was singing an a cappella version of …? What song was that? I knew it wasn’t one of Lethal Abel’s. I listened keenly, searching for any frame of reference. Oh, now I knew!  It was his version of Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse.” His had an edge to it. Nonetheless, it was beautiful.  And more importantly, it was quintessential Abel. He mastered everything he did, on his terms.

Make me your cupid—

Make me your one and only

But don’t make me your enemy, your enemy, your enemy

So you wanna play with magic

Girl, you should know what you’re falling for

Baby, do you dare to do this?

‘Cause I’m coming at you like a dark horse

Are you ready for a perfect storm, a perfect storm?

‘Cause once you’re mine, there’s no going back …

[Listen to OLN’s version of “Dark Horse” here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKVknRFEhpc.]

Oh, God. His version of reality was quickly becoming mine. I laid back down and let his voice pull me back under again, swathing me in his gravelly tones—carrying me to him.