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Danny O’Donaghue.
Indie rock god.
Lady killer.
The devil with midnight hair and blue-flame eyes.

After six years I thought the pain of what he’d done to me had faded.
Guess not.
Because I’m standing in this crowded lecture hall of the most prestigious music school in Ireland, staring at the person who healed me when I was broken. Right before he shattered me beyond repair.
And I still feel everything.

My ex-best friend.
My first love.
My tormentor.

…is now my professor.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I demanded. “We used to be…friends. Best friends.”
More than friends.
I swallowed as the tender memories rose up in my mind, pricking the backs of my eyelids. “Why pick on me?”
I thought I saw a flash of pain in his eyes before it was smothered by a smirk. “I like to watch you squirm. You go all red in the face like a tomato when you get mad.”
That’s why he called me Dearg. Because of the way I blushed with my body. The way my pale skin was like a mood ring, broadcasting my anger, my embarrassment, my arousal.
“Why start that rumor?”
“Hypothetically,” he continued, “even if I was the one who started that rumor, you should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” My eyes almost bulged out of my head. I shoved at his chest. The asshole barely moved. I barely made a dent in his rock-hard muscles.
I was going to punch him, right there in his precious rock star junk. He better not want kids one day.
“You are fucking delusional.” I shoved him again.
This time he caught my wrist and spun me around, slamming me up against one of the lockers. The air whooshed out of me and not just because he was crushing me between the lockers and his hard body.
“Yeah, Dearg, you should be on your fucking knees thanking me with that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick.”
God. The sheer crudeness of his words. It should make me cringe. To slap him across the face. Instead, everything in my lower belly ached, my lips parted and all I could do was blink up at him.
“The pool for your v-card has been cancelled,” he continued. “That cunt will leave you alone now instead of trying like a fucking chump to pretend to be a good boyfriend while just wanting to get in your panties for money and bragging rights. So, yeah, you should be fucking thanking me.”
“You’re trying to tell me that you told everyone I was a god damn lesbian to help me?”
His lip lifted up. “Yeah. Say thank you.”
He shifted back, just an inch of space, just enough to allow him to drop his towel. He dropped it. Right in front of me. No shame.
I glanced down before I could stop myself, half mortified, half curiosity raging like a storm.
His dick was hard. Long and thick and…perfect.
“Go on, Dearg. What are you going to do with it?” he taunted in a low voice.
“I…”
Grab it.
Lick it.
Suck it.
Pull it inside me.
His arms came up beside my head and he leaned in, trapping me, his hard cock hot and hard against my belly. Dear God. I was going to combust. Or pass out from lack of oxygen.
“Or,” his lips traced my cheekbone, sending hot and cold shivers throughout my body, “maybe you really are a lesbian.”
Rage flooded over me, temporarily overriding lust. I shoved him back with both hands and he stepped back laughing.
Bastard. He didn’t want me. He was taunting me. Teasing me. Pushing me to breaking point.
He almost won.
And I almost gave in.
Stupid me, I almost gave in.

Sienna Blake is a storyteller & inkslnger, wordspinner of love stories with grit, and alter ego of a USA Today Bestselling Author.

She loves all things that make her heart race — rollercoasters, thrillers and rowdy unrestrained sex. She likes to explore the darker side of human nature in her writing.

If she told you who she really was, she’d have to kill you. Because of her passion for crime and forensics, she’d totally get away with your murder.

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We're celebrating the release of RISING by Jessica Ruben! One-click your copy today!

NA Contemporary Romance
Cover designer: Okay Creations
Release date: May 1, 2018

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2HxzVmH
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2Kdnmym
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2r1OFDT
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2vOEM1r
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2KhW75N

Blurb:
As the bus approaches my stop on the Lower East Side, I raise the hood of my black sweatshirt. Anonymity is key in my neighborhood—particularly as a lone female walking at night.

All I want is to leave my crime-ridden shadow of a home in New York City. I’ve done everything I can to keep my head down and focus on my studies. College is my only goal; love has never been on the map…
That is, until my sister brings me to an underground fight, where I meet a gorgeous and mysterious man: Vincent.

He is the ghost in my shadows, showing up to feed me pieces of his upper-crust life, then evaporating into darkness until his next visit. I’m falling hard and fast. How can I trust him amidst the depth of his secrets?

Vincent may be even more dangerous than the dark world I’m trying to escape.

EXCERPT:
“Carlos is out,” she says in a rush. I look at her face, feeling my stomach sink. She’s playing with the hem of her shirt and glances at me nervously. Finally, her gray-blue eyes bore into mine, and I know that she’s gearing up to tell me some serious shit.

With trembling hands, I put down my coffee mug. “Tell me.”

“Yeah. Well, I heard he made bail—” She stops, clearing her throat. “I also heard that he’s, um, angrier than usual.” She stands, bringing the rest of the carafe of coffee to the table and pouring more into my cup.

I lick my dry lips. “What do you mean?”

She moves to the edge of her seat, pushing sugar my way. “Well, I was on the stoop yesterday. It was my day off. I was hanging out with everyone and listening to Mr. Samson talk about a new jazz club that recently opened up in Harlem. We were all getting high with someone’s hash, shooting the shit—”

“And?” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to get to the point.

“Juan came over, and sat with me.” She slightly shifts her head to the side and presses her lips together. “Well, he told me that Carlos is out now. And, he’s been talking shit all over town that he and you have some unfinished business. Juan wanted to tell me because he’s scared for you. I know he’s an annoying little shit, but after he heard...” her voice trails off.

I blink once, twice, three times.

“There’s more,” she says on an exhale. “Apparently, he hooked up with some girl last night. Beat the shit out of her. Ms. Santini from Three-A was on her way to work and stopped to drop off her trash by the dumpsters. Apparently, she heard a moaning sound. When she saw the girl, her clothes were torn. She was beaten up and started bawling about Carlos…”

My head gets dizzy, but I force myself to hear every detail. “An ambulance took her away, but she was in pretty bad shape.”

I want to ask more questions, but the terror has a clamp on my throat.

“I think you need to stay close to me for a while, okay? The Snakes are getting more aggressive. They want the Blue Houses as their own territory, and it looks like they’re trying to instill some bigger fear on the streets.” She drops her gaze. I know she’s afraid. Every girl in the Blue Houses probably heard the story by now.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll make sure Angelo knows I need to leave before it gets dark out.”

“Good idea. We need to sync our schedules so you aren’t walking alone at night. I’m gonna talk to some other people and try to get their schedules down so that everyone has a buddy or something at night. I’m sure when everyone hears about this, we won’t be the only ones who are scared.” I nod my head and stand up mechanically, rinsing my mug and walking to my room to digest the new information. After grabbing my stuff, I check my purse to make sure that my gun is still inside. I lock myself in the bathroom and load and unload the gun a few times, reacquainting myself with the weapon. If Carlos comes, I’ll be ready for him.

Getting to work, I let Angelo know the details of what’s new with Carlos. He’s angry and continues to tell me that I shouldn’t be so stubborn and I need to let the Borignones get involved. But I refuse. I still don’t want any debts to my name. I’ve made it this far, and I believe I can wait it out a little longer.

Work passes in a blur. I’m convincing a girl to sell her diamond ring while Angelo sells the two violins and a Cartier watch to an elderly couple who want to buy something for their grandchildren.

When the day is done, Angelo insists on calling a car to take me home. I sigh deeply, knowing that the driver will be one of Angelo’s associates. But considering the fact that Carlos is out of jail, I’m not going to complain. I nod my head and take his ride in the name of safety.

I get in the huge black Escalade and see a massive man sitting in the driver’s seat. Swallowing hard, I remind myself that he’s not an enemy, but on my side. He drives me right up to my building and I gingerly walk out, my shaking hand inside my purse, gripping my gun. I’m scared as hell, but it makes me feel a modicum of control. The driver enters the building with me and steps into the elevator as well.

We reach the fourth floor when I tell him he can go. “I can get into my apartment fine now.” He nods his head wordlessly and re-calls the elevator to bring him back downstairs.

I get up to my door without incident and let out the breath I was holding while I pry my fingers off my gun. “I’m okay,” I say out loud, turning my head and letting my gaze run up and down my hallway. It’s empty. I pull out my key and step forward onto my threadbare Welcome mat when I feel like I’ve kicked something. I look down, confused at what’s on the floor. It must be Janelle’s sweater that she dropped on her way out. I bend down to pick it up and freeze.

About the Author:

Jessica Ruben lives and works in New York City, where she spends her days dominating in the court room as an attorney. Come nightfall, she writes romances centering on gorgeous alpha males and the intelligent women who love them.

Jessica is an insatiable reader, and will devour a few books a week without batting an eyelash. Books have always been her drug of choice, and she has no plans on detox anytime soon. She has three wildly delicious children and a husband who, for reasons unimaginable to her, loves her brand of crazy.

http://jessicarubenauthor.com