The Triple M Blog
Tour
Books: “Losing Me,
Finding You” “Loving Me, Trusting You”
Twenty-one year old Amy Cross's idea of a hot Saturday night
is curling up with her favorite book boyfriend and secretly sneaking a bottle
of her mother's wine. That is, until she meets Austin Sparks, the biker boy
with a past that burns like fire and a gaze she can't look away from. Without
knowing what she's doing or why she's doing it, Amy ends up on the road with
Austin traveling from one city to another while learning things she's only ever
read about in romance novels.
At first it seems like Austin is Amy's fantasy come true, but as their journey progresses, she starts to sense that Austin is running away from something. Amy knows that she'll do whatever it takes to help him find himself. What she doesn't expect is that she'll lose herself in the process and how good it will feel to be free.
At first it seems like Austin is Amy's fantasy come true, but as their journey progresses, she starts to sense that Austin is running away from something. Amy knows that she'll do whatever it takes to help him find himself. What she doesn't expect is that she'll lose herself in the process and how good it will feel to be free.
Book Links:
Purchase Links:
Loving Me, Trusting You
The Triple M Motorcycle Gang has a new president in Austin
Sparks, the bad boy biker that swept Amy Cross off her feet. And nobody's
happier about that than Gaine Kelley. Now that his best friend has finally
found the woman of his dreams, Gaine's free to go after Mireya. But what if she
isn't ready yet? What if the demons from her past howl so loud she can't hear
him calling?
Mireya Sawyer isn't ready for love. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Especially not when
the one thing she's always fought for is called into question. Triple M may not
be a 'real' MC, but they're posing as one, and there are people that don't like
that. People who can't accept the way they do things and are willing to take
the time to put a stop to it. With several rival gangs circling around,
threatening the rights of the women in Triple M, Mireya knows it's time to
forget her love affair with Austin and move on. Thing is, Gaine's not willing
to stand on the sidelines anymore. He loves her, but can she trust him?
Releasing Soon
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| Book 1 |
“Take off your pants,” he says simply and that's it. I turn around and stare at him, noticing that his eyes are like fire, waiting to wash over me and burn me to ash.
“What?” Austin grins and pulls out a cigarette, sticking it between his lips and taking off his vest. He tosses it onto the gravel by the side of the road like we're not out in the middle of the country, like we're right back in that hotel room together with all the privacy in the world.
“Take 'em off. This is your next lesson. If you don't wear a skirt, be prepared to take off your pants. Come on, sugar, let's get to it. We've gotta hurry before somebody drives by and sees us.”
“You're serious?” I ask him, getting chills and a gut wrenching belly ache. Oh God, yes. I can't believe I waited twenty-one years for this feeling. It's incredible.
“As a heart attack,” Austin says, taking a drag on his cigarette and tossing it to the ground, so he can smash it under his boot. I nibble my lip for a moment and then start to unbutton my jeans. Austin's eyes follow the motion and narrow when I pause with the zipper halfway down.
“Take off your shirt,” I command him. I want to see what's under there. Three times we've had sex and not once have I gotten to see his chest and belly. He grins at me and obliges, tearing the black fabric off and tossing it down alongside his vest.
Austin is … Well, God, Austin is ripped. He's tight and muscular and I can see every muscle in his belly as clear as day. His skin stretches hot and slick over the firmness of his chest and stomach, dipping into his pants with a sprinkle of sandy hair. Above his pecs, he's got another skull tattoo surrounded by roses and on either side, a gun pointing inwards. Sweat glides across the colorful piece of art and gets caught between his muscles, sliding down and soaking into the waistband of his jeans.
I practically tear my boots and pants off in my frenzy to touch him. I can't wait.
“Panties,” he commands me, and I pause. Being pants-less in the middle of the road is one thing, but being pantie-less is quite another altogether.
“Austin … ” He grins at me and reaches down, unzipping his own pants. My gaze follows his hands involuntarily, mesmerizing me.
“Better hurry before somebody comes along and we get interrupted.”
I swallow and look around, listening for the rumble of cars in the distance and hear nothing except for the droning of the cicadas. I drop my panties to my feet before I can stop myself and kick them next to my jeans.
“Now, get on the fucking bike,” Austin leans back and flashes me his cock, hard and ready and waiting. I move forward and climb on so that I'm facing him, trying to move slowly so that I don't seem too eager. Truth is, I am eager, almost desperate for it. Three days ago, I was a virgin reading about my favorite heroines being banged in black and white. Today, I am the heroine, and I can't wait for my turn. “Now, look at you,” Austin says, voice dropping into this lengthy Southern drawl where every fucking syllable is a nightmare of sexual tension, bleeding across my body and making me crazy for it.
“What?” Austin grins and pulls out a cigarette, sticking it between his lips and taking off his vest. He tosses it onto the gravel by the side of the road like we're not out in the middle of the country, like we're right back in that hotel room together with all the privacy in the world.
“Take 'em off. This is your next lesson. If you don't wear a skirt, be prepared to take off your pants. Come on, sugar, let's get to it. We've gotta hurry before somebody drives by and sees us.”
“You're serious?” I ask him, getting chills and a gut wrenching belly ache. Oh God, yes. I can't believe I waited twenty-one years for this feeling. It's incredible.
“As a heart attack,” Austin says, taking a drag on his cigarette and tossing it to the ground, so he can smash it under his boot. I nibble my lip for a moment and then start to unbutton my jeans. Austin's eyes follow the motion and narrow when I pause with the zipper halfway down.
“Take off your shirt,” I command him. I want to see what's under there. Three times we've had sex and not once have I gotten to see his chest and belly. He grins at me and obliges, tearing the black fabric off and tossing it down alongside his vest.
Austin is … Well, God, Austin is ripped. He's tight and muscular and I can see every muscle in his belly as clear as day. His skin stretches hot and slick over the firmness of his chest and stomach, dipping into his pants with a sprinkle of sandy hair. Above his pecs, he's got another skull tattoo surrounded by roses and on either side, a gun pointing inwards. Sweat glides across the colorful piece of art and gets caught between his muscles, sliding down and soaking into the waistband of his jeans.
I practically tear my boots and pants off in my frenzy to touch him. I can't wait.
“Panties,” he commands me, and I pause. Being pants-less in the middle of the road is one thing, but being pantie-less is quite another altogether.
“Austin … ” He grins at me and reaches down, unzipping his own pants. My gaze follows his hands involuntarily, mesmerizing me.
“Better hurry before somebody comes along and we get interrupted.”
I swallow and look around, listening for the rumble of cars in the distance and hear nothing except for the droning of the cicadas. I drop my panties to my feet before I can stop myself and kick them next to my jeans.
“Now, get on the fucking bike,” Austin leans back and flashes me his cock, hard and ready and waiting. I move forward and climb on so that I'm facing him, trying to move slowly so that I don't seem too eager. Truth is, I am eager, almost desperate for it. Three days ago, I was a virgin reading about my favorite heroines being banged in black and white. Today, I am the heroine, and I can't wait for my turn. “Now, look at you,” Austin says, voice dropping into this lengthy Southern drawl where every fucking syllable is a nightmare of sexual tension, bleeding across my body and making me crazy for it.
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| Book 2 |
the sun. My helmet's still on, and I'm peering out the visor at the remnants of Mireya Sawyer's soul. They're scattered across the yellow desert for all of Triple M to see, laid bare and sizzling hot. Even if I didn't know her as well as I do, I could see that she's bleeding inside, hurtin' so hard she can't breathe. My first instinct is to cross the dry ground that separates us and take her into my arms, whisper into her hair and tell her that everyone's going to be okay, that I'll take care of her forever.
She'd probably kick me in the fucking nuts.
A smile teases the edge of my lips as I rub at the broken heart tattoo on my shoulder. Austin isn't happy about the sudden stop, but I don't mind. I'd do anything for Mireya Sawyer. Even wait around for ten plus friggin' years while she pined for my best friend.
“Should I go talk to her?” Amy Cross asks, sneaking up between Austin and me, and curling her delicate fingers around his arm. Brunette hair whips around her face, hiding the expression of concern that's there, genuine and sympathetic. She's a miracle that, girl. The one person on this earth that I think is capable of handling Austin. She's calm, collected, and she don't hold no fucking grudge against Mireya. I feel good knowing she's Austin's soul mate. I just hope he's aware of how lucky he is.
“Nah,” I say, watching through the visor, waiting with my breath caught in my chest for that day that might never come, for the day that Mireya Sawyer looks me in the eyes and tells me she loves me right back. I've told her before. Just once. It didn't go over so well. I plan on doing it again, but I don't know when. If I have to, I'll wait another ten years. I'd rather not, thank you very much, but I will. I'd wait forever if I had to.
I glance over at Beck who's busy checking out Amy's ass. When Austin sees, he growls low in his throat and our friend backs off, running his hand through his red hair and chuckling. Dumb as a Goddamn doornail, but ten times tougher. I really believe that Beck could take out twenty men by himself. Wouldn't surprise me a bit.
“She's just … dealing with some old shit,” I say as Austin sighs and glances back at the group behind us. Triple M. Our family. Our friends. The people we'd do anything for, that would do anything for us. It's a confusing time right now, but they're all still here and they're not asking questions. I think it's because we all knew deep down that Kent Diamond was a Goddamn lunatic. Well, okay, for me it wasn't even deep down, but thing is, he did a lot of good for us all, rescued us when nobody else was there, gave us a home and a family. He might've been an asshole, and a backstabber, but he was still the one that gathered us all together, whatever his reasons.
But now he's dead.
Austin didn't bother to check before we left, but I did. I felt for a pulse, and I got nothin'. I don't think Sparks cared either way. All that mattered to him was Amy, and that was that. He took Kent out without a second thought. Guess love will make you do shit like that without thinking. It's a violently gentle emotion, ain't it? A contradiction in and of itself. I know it's been screwing with me forever. Especially when I saw that stupid bitch, Tray Walker.
Fuck. I wanted to kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands, feel the life drain out of him while I gazed into his eyes and showed him exactly how I felt about what he did to Mireya. Stupid motherfucker. But it wasn't my decision. It was hers. Beck gave her the knife, and we walked out. She had blood on her hands when she came out, but not a lot. I don't know what happened, and she doesn't want to talk about it with anyone. Not a single soul.
“We can't sit on the side of the highway all day,” Austin warns, but I'm not sure who he's talking to exactly. He's in charge now, so he better get used to it.
“Okay, Pres,” I say, lifting up my visor and feeling the burn of the sun on my skin. “So what do you want to do about it?” Austin gives me a look, blowing out a rush of air like he isn't quite sure he's ready for all this. I don't tell him, but to me and Beck, he's always been in charge. He's the only one we've ever really listened to.
“Give her five minutes,” Amy says, so quiet that I almost don't catch her words. Austin does though. And he hangs all over them like a kid on the monkey bars. Jesus. This boy is so head over heels, it's hard to look at him. I hope he realizes it. “I think she needs this. If you rush her, she'll hang onto the pain. Let her go for a minute, please?” Amy asks, pressing a kiss to the leather sleeve of Austin's jacket. His arm curls around her waist protectively, and his eyes soften a bit. Jesus.
I turn away. I can't look at that. Not right now. I'm jealous, and I don't want to be. I just want to be happy. I just want to be with Mireya Sawyer.
C.M. Stunich was raised under a cover of fog in the area
known simply as Eureka, CA. A mysterious place, this strange, arboreal land
nursed Caitlin's (yes, that's her name!) desire to write strange fiction novels
about wicked monsters, magical trains, and Nemean Lions (Google it!). She
currently enjoys drag queens, having too many cats, and tribal bellydance.
Always a fan of the indie scene and 'sticking it to the
man,' Ms. Stunich decided to take the road less traveled and forgo the
traditional publishing route. You can be assured though that she received
several rejections as to ensure her proper place in the world of writers before
taking up a friend's offer to start a publishing company. Sarian Royal was
born, and Ms. Stunich's books slowly transformed from mere baking chocolate to
full blown tortes with hand sculpted fondant flowers.
C.M. is a writer obsessed with delivering the very best and
scours her mind on a regular basis to select the most unusual stories for the
outside world.
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