Who knew things could get even darker and dirtier in New Orleans? New York Times bestselling author Meghan March introduces the Savage Prince of the city, the man you never want to meet.
I do what I want and who I want. I don’t follow anyone’s rules—even my own.
I knew I shouldn’t touch her, but it didn’t stop me.
Didn’t stop me the second time either. Only made me want a third.
My lifestyle suits the savage I am, and she doesn’t.
But Temperance Ransom is my newest addiction, and I’m nowhere near ready to quit her yet.
I’ll have her my way, even if it means dragging her into the darkness.
Hopefully it doesn’t kill us both.
Savage Prince is book one of the Savage Trilogy, set in the same world as Ruthless King, however you do not need to read the Mount Trilogy to devour this scandalously hot new story.
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“That you, Temperance?”
My gaze searches the darkness, interrupted only by the Chinese lanterns and fairy lights hanging from the trees, until it lands on the red dragon emblazoned on the back of a black silk kimono, topped by a fluffy white head of hair.
Shit. My landlady.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Harriet. I’ll just—”
She spins around, spry for her advanced age. “Oh, girl, you’ve got sex hair. At least that makes one of us.”
I squeeze my eyes shut in humiliation. “I . . . uh . . . got—”
“Done up right by a real man, I’d say. About damn time, girl. I was starting to think you were a lost cause of all work and no play. Almost wondered if I’d have to find a new tenant to get some entertainment around here.”
I blink twice as she shuffles toward me, fluffy pink marabou slippers on her feet. “You were going to kick me out because I work too much?”
I knew my landlady was a little nutty, but I didn’t realize she was downright crazy.
“It would’ve been a last resort. I was going to send you a male stripper first. Girl, you need some fun in your life, and you do nothing but go between here and work. Boring as hell.”
Her point is finally sinking in, but part of me is still in shock. “I’m boring?”
“Of course you are. I swear, you go out of your way to stay that way too. But not tonight. Tonight, you look like you got dicked down by a real man.” She takes a seat at the outdoor patio table and reaches for a bottle of wine. “Here’s a glass. Now, sit down and consider part of your rent spilling the juicy details.”
Dumbstruck, I close the distance between us and take a seat at the table. “It’s nothing. I swear.”
“Girl, you’re practically walking bowlegged. I’ve been around the block plenty of times. You won’t shock me.”
I reach for the glass of wine and take a long drink.
Good Lord, I needed this.
“I shouldn’t even be admitting what I did tonight.”
Harriet’s aged eyes practically light up as she grins. “Those are the
best stories. Come now, I’ll take it to the grave.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I think I accidentally went to a sex club.”
Harriet’s wineglass clinks the metal of the table. “I knew this was going to be good. How do you
accidentally go to a sex club?”
I tell her about the note that came to the office, and rushing to meet the appointment, assuming I was there to sell whiskey . . . and end with the part about running from the room.
Harriet claps with childlike excitement. “There’s hope for you yet, Temperance. When are you going back?”
I’m stunned at her reaction. I didn’t exactly expect her to judge, but I sure didn’t think she’d cheer me on.
“Never. I can’t. That’s not me. I’m not . . .”
“Interesting? Sexually adventurous? Up to be manhandled regularly by a real man?”
“I don’t even know his name!”
Harriet waves off my concern. “If I had a nickel for every man whose name I didn’t know, I’d be even richer than I am now. You can’t take life so seriously. You’ll never make it out alive. Now, you go upstairs, take the rest of this bottle of wine, and get tipsy enough to forget all the shouldn’ts and can’ts. If you need me to do some stalking to find this guy, just let me know. I have
connections.”
A New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels, Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.
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About Kimberly Kincaid:
Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet. When she’s not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as “The Pleather Bomber”, she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a USA Today best-selling author and a 2015 RWA RITA® finalist who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. Kimberly resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters.
Max’s hands slid down to cup his girlfriend’s perfect cheeks. He pulled her close and didn’t try to disguise the erection he was sporting. It had been days since he’d gotten inside her. It was starting to make him crazy.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he breathed as he leaned down to slant his mouth across hers.
Rachel softened against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t protest as his tongue swept in to play with hers. He hauled her up so her feet were dangling. It was the only way to get her pussy where he wanted it. He rubbed himself against her. He knew it made him a caveman, but he wanted to mark her as his. He wanted her to get a tattoo on that perfect ass of hers that read Property of the Harper Brothers.
Max set her down. His brain went there all the time now. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel between him and Rye. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Pancakes and sausage,” she replied with a suspicious gleam in her eyes.
He kissed her forehead gently and went to sit down at the kitchen table. He was very careful since she was studying him like she was trying to guess what he would do next. He didn’t want her to figure out what he was thinking. He had more than one thing he needed to hide from her today. He schooled his features to express nothing but innocence.
“Oh, God, what are you thinking?” Rachel looked utterly horrified. “Who are you going to kill?”
“What?” Max asked, holding his hands up in confusion.
She rounded the table and leaned over. He couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t wearing a bra. If he leaned in a bit, he could see the curve of her breasts and the faintest hint of nipple.
“Eyes up, mister,” she ordered in what he’d come to think of as her “drill sergeant” voice. His eyes obediently came up. He’d learned when it was in his best interests to obey her immediately. His baby was one tough cookie, and he was man enough to admit he needed her to be that way. He would walk all over her otherwise. That would make for one boring relationship. Rachel kept him on his toes.
“Sorry, baby.” He would try to distract her with charm. He had some of that. He smiled and pulled her hand into his. He tugged her down onto his lap. “I can’t help it. I get distracted by your breasts. They’re pretty. And I’m really, really horny. We haven’t had sex in days. It’s killing me.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. Her arms went around his neck. “You just had surgery. You haven’t even had the stitches out yet. The doctor said we should wait a few days.”
“It’s been almost a week.” He put a little whine in his voice. Maybe if she thought he was simply horny, she would forget her suspicions. It was imperative that she not figure out what he had done after she’d gone to sleep. “I promise I could be super still. I would lie perfectly still, and you could do all the work.”
She grinned. It did strange things to his heart. “That sounds tempting. I’ll call the doctor today, and I’ll see if we can get him to let you off the leash.”
She kissed his cheek. She got up and went to the stove, where she poured out pancake batter. Max relaxed.
She rounded on him suddenly. “You’re sure you’re not planning something terrible?”
She knew him far too well. He grimaced inwardly. This was where Rye would come in handy. Rye could distract her. Rachel was far too much woman for one man. He needed his brother because Max had figured out that a tag team approach was required when Rachel got saucy. But he was all on his own now. He didn’t like the feeling.
“Baby, I’m planning on doing some light work around the barn. I’m going to spend some time with Sunflower, and then I’ll have Rye drive me into Del Norte for my checkup. That’s my plan.” It was true. It was part of his plan. He didn’t mention the stop he intended to make.
Her eyes narrowed, and he wondered briefly if she could make that spatula into a weapon. He thought she probably could. Max sighed. He could make it into one, too. He could pull her over his lap and shove those boxers off her hips, then spank that pert rear. He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d simply get her bottom all pink and pretty. He’d rather use his hand, though.
“You have crazy eyes today, Max. What did you just think?” she asked breathlessly.
Rye stood in the doorway. He had on jeans and a T-shirt. His hair was still wet from his shower. “He was wondering how you would handle it if he pulled you across his lap and spanked you with your spatula. You should use your hand, Max. It would be better.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open. She looked between the two of them like she was trying to figure out what to say.
Max pointed at Rye. “He said it.”
Rye shrugged. “He was thinking it.”
“So were you.”
Rye’s face fell. Max saw him look down at the crotch of his jeans. “Damn it.”
Rye turned and walked back down the hall. Max knew exactly where he was going.
“What’s wrong with him?” She looked concerned as his brother marched off.
Max smiled broadly. Rye had done his job. She wasn’t thinking about his potential plans anymore. She set a plate in front of him.
“I guess he’s not hungry,” Max lied.
His brother was hungry, all right. He’d been hungry since the minute he laid eyes on Rachel.
NY Times and USA Today bestselling author Lexi Blake lives in North Texas with her husband, three kids, and the laziest rescue dog in the world. She began writing at a young age, concentrating on plays and journalism. It wasn’t until she started writing romance and urban fantasy that she found the stories of her heart. She likes to find humor in the strangest places and believes in happy endings no matter how odd the couple, threesome, or foursome may seem.
About Lori Foster:
Since first publishing in January 1996, Lori Foster has become a USA Today, Publisher’s Weekly and New York Times bestselling author. Lori has published through a variety of houses, including Kensington, St. Martin’s, Harlequin, Silhouette, Samhain, and Berkley/Jove. She is currently published with HQN. Visit her online at 
“You should have told me who you were the minute I stepped into the shower with you,” she complained, shoving a blue T-shirt over her head.
Rye ran a frustrated hand through his wet hair. It was so much longer wet. “I couldn’t breathe enough to talk. I’m sorry. I should have locked the door. I should have skipped the damn shower. Hell, I should have spent the night somewhere else. I knew something like this would happen.”
She calmed down as she noticed Rye looked a little tormented. When she thought about it, it kind of was inevitable. Maybe not the stroking him part, but certainly the seeing him less than clothed. “Rye, we didn’t do anything we shouldn’t have. It was a mistake. I’m sure this isn’t the first time a woman got twin brothers confused and ended up seeing more than she should. It’s your house. I’m the one who should be more careful.”
Rye turned away from her. He placed both hands on the dresser. His head fell forward as though he was very tired. “We’ve shared a room all of our lives until a year ago. Even after our parents were gone and we could have, probably should have, taken our own rooms, we didn’t. We moved in here and, when we had the money, renovated to suit our needs. We built this room and that bathroom for the future. I don’t know, Rachel. I just always expected him to be there.”
“I am not trying to take your brother away from you,” Rachel said quietly. Was all this drama worth it when she knew she wasn’t going to be able to stay? Her heart hurt at the thought, but sooner or later, she would have to move on. Until Tommy was caught, she was in danger and so was everyone around her.
Rye sighed. “Oh, Rachel, I’m not jealous of you.” He turned to her, and the intensity in his blue eyes made her heart speed up. “I’m gut-churningly jealous of Max. All of our lives, I’ve been the one to find our women. He’s a charmless bastard who went along for the ride. I’m the one who wanted to get married. I’m the one who wanted to have kids. He just wanted to fuck. Now, he’s the one who finds you? How the hell is that fair?”
She stood there, watching him at war with himself. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and soothe him, but she didn’t have the right. From everything she knew, Max had decided to go straight. He wanted a normal one-on-one relationship. He would probably be upset if he knew how attracted she was to Rye.
Rye shook his head. “I’m leaving tonight. I’ll pack a couple of things and stay at Stefan’s until I can find an apartment.”
“Don’t.” She was horrified at the thought. “I’ll leave. This is your home. I never meant to cause this much trouble.”
Rye smiled slightly, but it was a sad thing. “I can’t watch you and Max. I’ll get to the point where I can be friendly, and we can pretend to be some sort of normal family, but I’ll never stop wanting you. I can’t live in the same house and watch you settle in with my brother. Do you understand the relationship I want?”
“You want to share me with Max.” The statement came out in a low, breathy voice. She had meant to sound matter-of-fact, not sultry.
“I want you between us, Rachel. I want you to be our wife and our lover and the mother of our children. I want you to sleep in between us. I want you screaming your pleasure when we take you at the same time. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.” Her mouth was dry as she thought about it. She could have both of them. Two gorgeous men, loving her, wanting her. It was the fantasy of a lifetime.
“Max doesn’t want that anymore. I have to choose between pursuing the woman I think I was meant to be with or honoring the brother I’ve shared a life with from the moment we were conceived. Know this, Rach, if he weren’t already madly in love with you, if you hadn’t already chosen him, I would be all over you. That’s why I have to leave.”
