Here’s another #StarkOnSaturday as we count-down to the release of Complete Me – Stark Trilogy book 3!!!
I finished my review of the page proofs just the other day … and that means the published book is just around the corner (how on earth did summer get here so fast!)
And thanks to all the early reviewers who’ve raved about the book–and the series!! I’m thrilled that readers have fallen in love with Nikki and Damien the way that I have.
Here’s a snippet from a recent Goodreads review: “I’m very grateful to J. Kenner for having written a wonderful trilogy that made me dream and that captured my heart since the first page of the first book till the last page of this memorable conclusion!” – Shining-Love
And another from Megan: “Normally I fall in love with the first or second book in a trilogy and am left disappointed with the final book. So often the last book in a series is a matter of wrapping up loose ends and the reader is just waiting for the happily ever after epilogue. This is definitely not the case with The Stark Trilogy. The third book is by far the most complex, and may I add SEXIEST, book in the series.”
And a special shout-out to everyone who has read and spread the word about Release Me and Claim Me — making them both multi-week New York Times and USA Today bestsellers! Y’all rock … and you’ve left me breathless!
He steps back from me, his eyes gleaming mischievously, then holds out his hand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Come with me and find out.”
He leads me through the crowded club full of beautiful people who are much more interested in each other than with us. I’m relieved. We do not look like the Nikki and Damien who have been in the German news. I’m in my Girl-Goes-Clubbing outfit and Damien is casual in jeans and a light jacket over a T-shirt, not to mention a day’s worth of beard stubble. That’s not to say that I haven’t seen a few heads turn when we pass, but I think that is more a product of Damien’s astounding good looks than his status as a celebrity billionaire.
As far as I can tell, the club has two main rooms, both filled with bright colors and shiny surfaces. The DJs spin an eclectic mix, but the theme seems to be techno-club, and while the music isn’t anything I recognize, it is deliciously danceable.
At the moment, however, dancing is not on the agenda. Instead, Damien leads me to the terrace, and we step outside. I pause a moment to take it all in—the candles that illuminate the patrons in a surreal glow. The plush leather sofas and loveseats that dot the terrace. Some are in clusters near colored lights and provide a place for energetic dancers to have a drink and get a second wind. Others are secluded, tucked away in dark corners for lovers to curl up together and soak up the atmosphere.
The bouncers downstairs made it clear that no one gets into this bar if they look shabby, and here under the starlight, that policy is obvious. Everything glows, including Damien and me. There is a polish to everything that I see, but I know better than anyone how tarnished something shiny can be underneath, and I can’t help but imagine this place come morning. The sofas stained with spilled drinks. Cigarette butts stamped out on the stone floor. The ethereal candles revealed as nothing more than globby clumps of wax.
Nothing is as it appears. Not this club nor its patrons nor Damien. And certainly not me.
We weave among the other patrons to one of the love seats tucked in a darkened corner. Damien sits, and I start to sit beside him. “No,” he says, then pulls me into his lap so that I am straddling his leg, the hard muscles of his thigh pressing enticingly against me as I face him.
I exhale, making a little ah sound as shimmers of awareness crash through me.
“Trouble, Ms. Fairchild?”
I lift a brow and rock my hips, grinding my rear against him and making this hedonistic tempest crackle and pop inside of me. And—if his face is any indication—my lap dance is driving Damien a little crazy, too.
“No trouble, Mr. Stark,” I say, as primly as I can manage despite my body being on fire.
“Christ, Nikki …”
He tugs me forward so that I am still straddling him, but now I can feel his denim-clad erection against the bare skin of my thigh above my stocking. I meet his eyes, my heart pounding wildly, then moan when his mouth crushes against mine. One of his hands is around my waist, holding me in place at the small of my back. The other slides under my skirt, his fingers finding the thin strip of silk that makes up the thong, then begins to move in slow, easy circles calculated to drive me crazy.
“Damien,” I whisper. “Someone might see.”
“I want you. Right now. I want to watch you explode in my arms.”
And if you missed Release Me, you can snag your copy from your favorite retailers here:
Amazon United Kingdom
Barnes and Noble (print or Nook)