Blog number 19 – Sept 22, 2020
Hey, Jaye Hawks…
Ready for some exciting news?
Check it out:
New book announcement and cover reveal coming your way!
Oooh yeah, baby. In two short weeks, NEED IT, WORSE THAN BAD, the final installment in JC’s romcom Breakaleg Trilogy makes its hot and steamy debut, introducing broody billionaire contractor Axel Jameson and his sassy lady love Iris Donovan, the forbidden baby sister of his best bud and business partner.
Just like its recently-released predecessors NEED IT, BAD and NEED IT, WORSE, this standalone smoker is chockful of super-sexy scenes, dirty dialogue, and raunchy humor. We’re talking some serious five-alarm hotness, ladies!
If you’re into wicked deliciousness, you won’t want to miss this fast-paced romance, featuring self-proclaimed “alphahole” Ax and klutzy virgin Iris, the petite beauty who slays the mighty beast.
*JC is looking for a handful of ARC (Advanced Reader Copy) readers to check out NEED IT, WORSE THAN BAD and post a review before the book goes live on October 6. Reviews are key and much appreciated… If you are willing and able, click the free link below to grab your copy on BookFunnel now.
(Caveat: F-bombs abound. If filthy language offends, steer clear!)
To pique your interest and give you a little taste of signature “JC Style,” here’s the back of the book blurb:
He’s so far out of her league, it’s ridiculous…
New to the Big Apple, gifted photographer Iris Donovan finds herself crushing on her big brother’s biz partner like a schoolgirl. What a joke—as if Mr. Superhot Billionaire would even glance twice! That’s not to say Ms. Dirty Mind can’t indulge in wicked fantasies about the man, alone in her cramped walk-up. Incredibly, fantasy becomes passionate fact, and Axel makes her his. Until it all goes wrong, in the most wicked of ways.
He can’t keep his hands off her. But he’s damaged goods…
Ax Jameson is a hard man. Cold and focused, he’s shoved his painful past in a big black trunk and deep-sixed the key. Damned straight—his far-flung empire is all that matters. Sex? Yeah, sure… Women are just a means to an end. Until sweetly seductive Iris hits town. He’s got to claim this beauty, even if it means betraying his best bud’s trust. It’s worth every delicious liaison, until fate decides this love-sick fool doesn’t deserve a happy ending.
The Virgin and The Iceman. Is it too late for a second chance?
And here is a teaser, direct from Axel’s lust-addled head:
Oh, Jesus, it was Iris. Dead straight-ahead, in the phenomenal flesh. Sitting right there in front of me.
I blinked, licking dry lips.
Right. Fuckin’. There. In. Front. Of. Me.
All right… Yet another sign The Man Upstairs had me on his shit list. Hell, the prick wasn’t even giving me twelve hours to recover from the last sighting! Thanks a lot, God. Working on keeping my tongue in my mouth and off the carpet, I stumbled on my crutches, staring like a dope.
She was decked out in another sexy mini dress, bright orange this time. Her curvy, sun-kissed legs were crossed and showcased to perfection, hands holding a newspaper. PJ was already on site, yammering away at volume eleven. Slamming on the brakes, I stiffened (everywhere), blood pounding in my overheated veins.
Right off the bat, I couldn’t decide which looked better—that golden scrap Iris had rocked last night with its jaggedy hem practically kissing her pussy, or the tissue-thin number she had on now. Okay, the gold. But it was close, damned close. Swallowing, I gobbled up those silky legs, her exposed collarbone.
Her spectacular, tight little tits.
Other men in the lobby were looking at Iris, too. Lots of other men. Assholes strolling past real slow, pausing as they pretended to check their phones or watches. Worst actors in the freaking universe, the lot of ʼem. My fists clenched around their little wooden handles as a black haze descended.
Christ, how fucking obvious could you get?
Instantly, I wanted to pluck a dozen pervy eyeballs out of half a dozen heads with flaming hot pincers. Choke the life out of those slow-moving fuckers with my bare hands. Kind of impossible with the crutches, I know. Okay, how about using the things as a pair of bludgeons instead? That would work.
This alien possessiveness left me baffled and edgy. What the fuck? Jealousy? I reckoned it must be, stifling a bitter laugh as I dazedly acknowledged the fact.
Hell, what a hoot. Me, jealous. A guy who’d never felt that emotion toward a woman a day in his life. Not an hour, not a minute. I rubbed a hand over my chest. It felt weird and tight, sharp pains jabbing it like I was about to have the big one. Homicidal as I was, at the same time, a strange sympathy toward my fellow man flooded me.
Jesus. No wonder dudes go off the deep end with this evil green monster shit.
Crap fucking sucks.
As I loomed there plotting other men’s deaths, Iris’s honey-colored orbs flicked up and met mine. Silently, we stared at each other, eight feet and change separating us. If her blabbermouth brother was still in the picture, fuck if I knew.
I only had eyes for her.
Intrigued? Wait until you find out what happens next!
(Hint: A private elevator. A slew of blazing kisses. And a pair of ripped lace panties)
*Click here to sign up for the ARC of NEED IT, WORSE THAN BAD
*Click here to preorder NEED IT, WORSE THAN BAD (Ax + Iris)
*Click here to order book one, NEED IT, BAD (Tommy + Bebe)
*Click here to order book two, NEED IT, WORSE (Gash + Tansy)
*Click here to read BUSTED HEARTS for FREE (A testosterone-heavy novella featuring the three Breakaleg hunks and their adventures in the Big Apple, taking place between books two and three. A great chance to meet “the guys” in all their whiskey-soaked, heartbroken glory before they get it together again.)
As always, thanks a heap to my readers for your support and encouragement.
Next up? A naughty little 3-story Christmas novella, introducing a whole new cast of characters you gotta read to believe. As always, we’re talking level 11 hotness.
Deets to follow, so make sure you get on that email list!
In humor, lust, ‘n’ love,