Title: The Manny
Series: Dirty Truth #1
Author: Piper Rayne
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: October 19, 2017
Secrets and lies are a killer way to start any partnership—especially a horizontal one.
Now, I’m a glass half full kinda of guy, so, after the ‘you’re fired’ speech was directed at me, I figure now’s the time to be the screenwriter I came to sunny California to be. Unfortunately, there are about as many people trying to sell a script in L.A. as there are vegans in the pacific northwest.
But lucky for me, a few weeks ago my agent found an investor for my script. Hooray, all my problems are solved! NOT.
Because the investor will only agree to fund my film if I use one specific actress. And that one specific actress? Well of course, it just has to be the same actress I screwed over only months before. But she doesn’t need to know about that one tiny detail, does she? All that matters is getting her to agree to do the film and I’ll do whatever it takes. We can leave the past, in the past, right?
I thought my charm would win her over. Never would I have been prepared for the terms she laid out on the table.
She needed a nanny.
I needed a lead actress.
Somehow I became The Manny.
Piper Rayne, or Piper and Rayne, whichever you prefer because we’re not one author, we’re two. Yep, you get two established authors for the price of one. You might be wondering if you know us? Maybe you’ll read our books and figure it out. Maybe you won’t. Does it really matter?
We aren’t trying to stamp ourselves with a top-secret label. We wanted to write without apology. We wanted to not be pigeon holed into a specific outline. We wanted to give readers a story without them assuming how the story will flow. Everyone has their favorite authors, right? And when you pick up their books, you expect something from them. Whether it’s an alpha male, heavy angst, a happily ever after, there’s something you are absolutely certain the book will contain. Heck, we’re readers, too, we get it.
What can we tell you about ourselves? We both have kindle’s full of one-clickable books. We're both married to husbands who drive us to drink. We're both chauffeurs to our kids. Most of all, we love hot heroes and quirky heroines that make us laugh, and we hope you do, too.
Unbearable by Kristen Hope Mazzola is LIVE! A sexy addition to the Passion, Vows & Babies Kindle World!
Amazon → http://amzn.to/2z22VOIIt is finally my time. I am an outlaw. The president of the Atlanta charter of the Unacceptables MC. You can call me Bear. I’ve given my blood, sweat, and life to my club. Devotion is a complete understatement. It wasn’t until a cute blonde walked into my garage that I considered giving myself to anything else. Her perfect smile drew me in. Her sass made me crazy. I'll do anything to protect my MC - and now her. About the Author: I am just an average twenty-something following my dreams. I have a full time “day job” and by night I am an author. I guess you could say that writing is like my super power (I always wanted one of those). I am the lover of wine, sushi, football and the ocean; that is when I am not wrapped up in the literary world. Please feel free to contact me to chat about my writing, books you think I’d like or just to shoot the, well you know. A portion of all my royalties are donated to The Marcie Mazzola Foundation. Author Links: Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1fQ2eZI Amazon: http://amzn.to/2eUz8P8 Twitter: http://bit.ly/1gZdki8 Website: http://bit.ly/1dBeHku Goodreads: http://bit.ly/184qzve
Cover Design: Concierge Literary Designs
Release Date: October 19, 2017
She destroyed my family.After ten years, Brylee Whitmore has returned to our home town, giving me my shot at revenge. I thought it would be simple, but she’s changed. I was supposed to make her pay for what she’s done, so why do I feel like I have to fix her instead?
Coming home was a mistake.
If my dad wasn’t sick, I would have stayed away. Chase Foster plans to exact his revenge, and I deserve it. I’m supposed to pay for my sins, but now he wants to fix me instead. Too bad there’s nothing left to fix.
Two broken people.
Can he forgive her?
Can she forgive herself?
Signed Paperback of Broken Souls & $20 Amazon Gift Card
About the Author
A Midwesterner and self-proclaimed book nerd, Evan has been an avid reader most of her life, but one day an idea came into her head and a writing career was born. She’s a sucker for happily ever afters and loves creating fictional worlds that others can get lost in. Evan loves putting her characters through the ringer, but loves when they get to that satisfying, swoony ending.When the voices in her head give it a rest, she can always be found with her e-reader in her hand. Some of her favorites include, Aurora Rose Reynolds, (the queen) Kristen Ashley, Joanna Wylde, Madeline Sheehan and Harper Sloan. Evan finds a lot of her inspiration in music, movies, TV shows and life.She’s a wife to Jim and a mom to Ethan and Evan, a cook, a tutor, a friend and a writer. How does she do it? She’ll never tell.
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Get ready for the darker and dirtier side of New Orleans with a brand new alpha romance from USA Today bestselling author Meghan March. New Orleans belongs to me. You don’t know my name, but I control everything you see—and all the things you don’t. My reach knows no bounds, and my demands are always met. I didn’t need to loan money to a failing family distillery, but it amuses me to have them in my debt. To have her in my debt. She doesn’t know she caught my attention. She should’ve been more careful. I’m going to own her. Consume her. Maybe even keep her. It’s time to collect what I’m owed. Keira Kilgore, you’re now the property of Lachlan Mount. *Ruthless King is book one of the Mount Trilogy* ADD TO GOODREADS
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. She loves hearing from her readers at email@example.com.
BY: USA TODAY Bestselling Author M. Robinson
Genre: Contemporary/New Adult Romance
Cover Model Enrico Ravenna
Cover Designer: TheFinal Wrap
Release Date: November 16th, 2017
I didnât know darkness and evil lurked inside me until I had to murder in order to survive. Forced to become my own worst enemy. With so much blood on my hands, I was surprised I could still see my own skin.
I played God while I was rotting in Hell. Thriving on control and power was the only way I knew how to live. There were no other options.
If you werenât my friend, you were my foe.
If you werenât with me, you were against me.
Traitors, as I called them. There were no imaginary lines. Iâd crossed them all. No boundaries. No second chances. No redemption.
Not for me.
Only for herâ¦
She loved me. Always convinced I was a saint, never believing I was just another sinner.
A fucking monster.
Until it was too late.
Except, I didnât choose this life. It. Chose. Me.
I witnessed and participated in it all.
Somewhere along the way in the last few years, I stopped allowing myself to feel, to think, to dream of another life. Only the strongest survive and I would always make it out alive.
No. Matter. What.
The control, the power, the sins of it all, were just as addicting as they were afflicting. Consuming every last part of my being.
I became the fucking monster they wanted me to be.
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USA Today Bestselling Author of El Santo, Ends Here, Keeping Her Wet, Road to Nowhere, El Diablo, The Good Ol' Boys Standalone Series, The VIP Trilogy, Tempting Bad, and Two Sides.
M. Robinson loves to read. She favors anything that has angst, romance, triangles, cheating, love, and of course sex! She has been reading since the Babysitters Club and R.L. Stein. All time favorite books are The Bronze Horseman Trilogy by Paullina Simons.
She was born in New Jersey but was raised in Tampa Fl. She is married to an amazing man who she loves to pieces. They have two German shepherd mixes, a Wheaten Terrier and a Tabby cat.
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A Little Too Late, an all-new romantic standalone from Staci Hart is coming October 24th!
A Little Too Late by Staci Hart
Publishing Date: October 24th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance
I wasn't supposed to fall in love with the nanny.
When my wife left, she took the illusion of happiness with her, and I've been caught in a free fall ever since. For nine long months, I've been fighting to figure out how to be a single dad, how to be alone.
For nine long months, I've been failing.
When Hannah walked through the door, I took my first breath since I'd found myself on my own. She slipped into our lives effortlessly, showing me what I've been missing all these years. Because Hannah made me smile when I thought I'd packed the notion of happiness away with my wedding album.
She was only supposed to be the nanny, but she's so much more.
The day my wife left should have been the worst day of my life, but it wasn't. It was when Hannah walked away, taking my heart with her.
Excerpt:Hannah The first time I saw Charlie Parker, I didn’t see one thing at a time; I saw all of him. It was an assault on my senses, an overwhelming tide of awareness, and for a moment, the details came to me in flashes over what was probably only a few seconds but felt so much longer. His hair was blond and gently mussed, his face long and nose elegant. I could smell him, clean and fresh with just a touch of spice I couldn’t place. I tipped my chin up—he was tall, taller than me, and I hovered just at six feet—and met his eyes, earthy and brown and so deep. So very deep. And then he smiled. He was handsome when he wasn’t smiling. He was stunning when he was. I was so lost in that smile, I didn’t register the flying gob until it whapped against my sweater. Tiny splatters of something cold speckled my neck. This was the moment the clock started again, and the sweet serenity slipped directly into chaos. A blond little boy looked up at me from his father’s side with a devilish gleam in his dark eyes. The spoon in his hand was covered in blood-red jam and aimed at me like an empty catapult. Several things happened at once. Charlie’s face morphed into embarrassed frustration as he reached for who I presumed to be his son. The boy—Sam, I guessed from the names I’d been given by the agency—spun around lightning fast and took off down the hallway, giggling. Another child began to cry from somewhere back in the house, and a bowl clattered to the ground, followed by a hissed swear from what sounded like an older woman. I glanced down at the sliding, sticky mess against my white sweater and started to laugh. Charlie’s head swiveled back to me, his face first colored with confusion, then in horror as he looked at the Pollock painting on my sweater. “Oh my God,” he breathed, his apologetic, wide eyes dragging down my body. “Jesus, I am so sorry.” I was still laughing, almost a little hysterical. I couldn’t even tell you why. I waved a hand at Charlie, and he took my elbow, guiding me into the house as I caught my breath. Another crash came from the kitchen, and a little girl came toddling out into the entry, leaving powdery footprints on the hardwood. Charlie’s face screwed up. “Sam!” he called, stretching the word, a drawn-out promise of consequences. A riot of giggling broke out in the kitchen. We both snapped into motion. I followed him as he scooped up his crying daughter and stormed toward the kitchen. The little girl watched me over his shoulder with big brown eyes, her breath hitching in little shudders and her small finger hooked in her mouth. Charlie stopped so abruptly, I almost ran into him. When I looked around him and into the kitchen, my mouth opened. I covered it with my fingers as laughter bubbled up my throat. A bag of flour sat in the middle of the floor, the white powder thrown in bursts against the surrounding surfaces and hanging in the air like smoke. The floor next to the bag was the only clean spot, shaped like a small bottom—the little girl’s, I supposed. A bowl lay upside down, its contents oozing from under the rim and slung in a ring from ceiling to cabinet to floor, as if it had completed a masterful flip on its way to its demise. And in the center of the madness stood an older woman with flour in her dark hair and dusted down the front of her. Clutched under her arm was a wriggling Sam, offending spoon still in hand. Her face was kind but tight with exasperation. “Please tell me this is the new nanny,” she said flatly. “I doubt we could convince her to stay at this point,” he said with equal flatness.
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About the AuthorStaci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life -- a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can't forget that. She's also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She's been a wife, though she's certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She's also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she's been drinking whiskey. From roots in Houston to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she's not writing, she's reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.
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New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Jay Crownover returns with the second title in her romantic suspense series, The Breaking Point, DIGNITY. Check out the excerpt below and grab your copy today!
Looks can be deceiving.
I knew that most people took one look at the ink and the impossibly big and strong body it covered and decided I was a brawler…a bruiser…a beast. However, I was hardwired to be a thinker, not a fighter.
I should have chosen to use my brain and talents to be one of the good guys, a hero, a man with dignity and worth.
I turned my back on dignity and sold my soul to the highest bidder, deciding to dance with the devil, instead.
I couldn’t figure out how to help myself, so there was zero chance I knew how to save someone else.
That someone else was Noe Lee. She was the unkempt, unruly thief who was just as smart as I was and twice as street savvy. She was annoyingly adorable beneath the dirt and grime, and she was in trouble. In way over her head, I told myself it wasn’t my job to keep her from drowning. In the Point, it was sink or swim, and I wasn’t the designated lifeguard on duty.
I shut the door in her face, but now she’s gone…vanished…disappeared without a trace. It took less than a second for me to realize that I wanted her back.
When a woman comes along that melts all the frozen, hard things you’re made of; you’ll do anything you have to, to bring her home.
What you see is not always what you get…and with a man like me, what you get is more than anyone ever bargained for.
DIGNITY is now available! Grab your copy today!
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I was dragging ass when I took the stairs up to Booker’s unit. Typically, I could run up the three flights and not even get winded, but I was running on fumes and the last traces of adrenaline. My brain was fuzzy, and my normally sharp thoughts felt scattered and unruly. The past and the present were at war in my mind, and the battle for which one made me feel worse was raging.
I made my way through the quiet loft listening for any sound that would indicate Noe was up and moving around. When I got closer to the bedroom, I heard the shower running and swear words chasing the steam out of the open door. It was going to be painful for a while when the water sluiced over her wounds. The thought had me squeezing my eyes closed and clenching my hands into fists. Just because tough things didn’t break didn’t mean they couldn’t be damaged, dented, and scratched. The fact Noe was currently suffering so much wear and tear because of me scraped across my skin and dug into my belly like sharp knives.
I was turning to walk out of the room so she could finish in peace when the running water went silent and her swearing ramped up a notch. I heard her banging around in the bathroom and then she yelled, “Booker, I need a towel! I’m dripping all over your floor.”
I opened my mouth to tell her Booker was gone and that I would go find her one. I didn’t need her poking through his stuff and running across a submachine gun or a rocket launcher. My brain was ping-ponging between annoyance that she’d called for Booker instead of me and the unrelenting image of her, naked, wet, and dripping onto the tile. I wasn’t a guy prone to fantasy, but damn if I didn’t get all kinds of caught up in the thought of her pretty olive skin glistening with moisture from head to toe. I needed to get away from her. I needed space so I could find a way to wrap armor back around all the soft parts of me she exposed.
I was shaking my head to marshal my thoughts back in order when I heard her swear again. Suddenly, like I conjured her out of a dream, Noe was standing in the pocket doorway of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a scowl of irritation and shimmery, shiny water droplets. Her midnight-colored eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and a bright pink flush stained the top of her chest and crawled up her neck into her face. She didn’t lift her hands to cover herself. She stood as still as I was, not moving at all under my furious and hungry gaze.
I wanted to be polite and look away. I told myself it was rude to stare and that the last thing she needed was some guy she barely knew gawking at her like she was a priceless work of art on a museum wall. I berated myself for this invasion of privacy but none of the lecturing or preaching did any good. The only way I could have torn my eyes off that petite frame, with it’s perfectly perky breasts and slightly rounded hips, was if someone slapped them out of my head. I couldn’t blink. I was scared to breathe. I felt like if I moved at all she would bolt like a startled deer, and I needed another second, another minute, another hour, to memorize every single part of her.
She was small, but all the parts added up to perfection. Seeing her like this, stripped bare with nothing to hide behind, I couldn’t believe I’d ever been stupid enough think she was a boy. Everything about her was delicate, feminine, and soft. The hollow of her neck, the elegant curve of her shoulders, the flare of her hips and the fullness of her ass. Her legs weren’t long, but they were toned and shapely. She was the very definition of good things coming in small packages and all I wanted to do was wrap her up and put her on a shelf that was too high and too hard to reach for anyone but me.
Choking on possession and a surge of lust unlike anything I’d ever felt, I belatedly turned my back on her and muttered thickly, “I used all the towels in there last night when I cleaned you up. I’ll go find where Booker keeps the extras.”
She moved. I felt it. The current that ran between us pulsed and throbbed with something hot. I heard her bare feet on the carpet and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed to keep my feet planted and my back turned. She was naked in a room with a very big bed and I was a man who never had such a visceral reaction to anyone…ever. If I had a switch, Noe Lee was the only person who had ever come along and flipped it. I was the actual definition of turned on when I had been off for most of my life.
And don’t miss the first standalone title in The Breaking Point series, HONOR! Grab your copy today!
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About Jay Crownover:
Jay Crownover is the international and multiple New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Marked Men Series, The Saints of Denver Series, the Point Series, the Breaking Point Series, and the Getaway Series. Her books can be found translated in many different languages all around the world. She is a tattooed, crazy haired Colorado native who lives at the base of the Rockies with her awesome dogs. This is where she can frequently be found enjoying a cold beer and Taco Tuesdays. Jay is a self-declared music snob and outspoken book lover who is always looking for her next adventure, between the pages and on the road.
Book #2 in the Sweet Series.
After facing a truth she never imagined, Beluah has to find a new path.
Build a life without help and take care of her sister alone.
Or does she…
Title: Start With Me
Series: Start Again Series Book Three
Author: J. Saman
Genre: Contemporary Romance Standalone
Release Date: October 16, 2017
No relationships. No falling in love.
Those are my rules. Simple. Easy. Uncomplicated.
Then Kyle Grant walks into my life and tries to mess all that up with his GQ looks and irresistible charm.
He’s everything I want.
But can never have.
The moment I laid eyes on Claire Sullivan, I knew she was different.
Then reality hit me. She’s my brother’s assistant. She lives in Seattle and I live in New York.
As if that wasn’t enough, she reminds me with annoying frequency that she doesn’t do relationships.
But I don’t care. I want her.
Now I just have to convince her to be mine.
"J. Saman has made a MUST READ for anyone who loves to watch Fate and the Inevitable carve out a great big heart with a smirky face inside. START WITH ME is a light romance lover's dream asClaire and Kyle meet and dance around the elephant in the room dressed in hearts and flowers. Leave it to J. Saman to have me grinning like a Chesire cat, talking out loud and rolling my eyes all for love!" ★★★★★ TomeTender
"Her words and characters really come alive to me with depth and personality. Some of my favorite authors lately have taken conflicts, hidden secrets and impossible situations and worked them chapter by chapter in such a satisfying way for me! J. Saman has done this for me in this book and is a favorite indy author. Her talent has blown me away." ★★★★★ Luv My Books
"A page turner so full of heart and gripping emotions you'll feel like their personal cheerleader by the time the story ends. An added bonus is Saman's trademark humor and snappy, snarky dialogue. The characters sound like me and my friends, they react the way real people react to situations and thatmakes it easy to slip seamlessly into the narrative." ★★★★★ Author Erin Lee Daniels
"J. Saman has such a wonderful way with words, engaging my whole heart on each and every page. What a fantastic experience getting to be in Kyle and Claire's world! "Start With Me" is such an amazing story with pretty amazing sexy hotness too! This is a must-put on your TBR!!" ★★★★★Romazing Reader's Reviews
Author J. Saman lives in New England with her husband and three daughters. When she's not writing romance and looking after her busy family, she works as a nurse practitioner. J. is a lover of picking at old wounds and second chance romances. She likes strong female leads and sexy alpha men with a sweet side.
I spin around and see two women rolling on the ground, hair flying. Fights are a pretty rare occurrence, but when they happen it’s nasty. I once read that men fight to injure, but women fight to kill.
The women roll closer to our table, and we all jerk out of the way in case some of the action heads toward us. I can hardly see who it is, but Georgina is quick to say it’s Roxie and Jinx. And they are going at each other: hands whacking, hair pulling, face slapping, and rib kicking. The whole nine. But it doesn’t go on for too long. Two guards descend on them, yanking the women apart. Some damage is already done. Jinx has a bloody nose and a swelling eye, and Roxie’s lip is split open.
“Fuck, man. Did you see that? Roxie almost killed the bitch! Bam!” Margot slams her hand on the table and my head rings. Jodi laughs. Must be nice for her to sit back and chuckle, since she’s never actually fought in here.
“Enough, Margot, or the guards are gonna be over here next.” Steph eyes her and Margot settles down.
The cafeteria is returning to normal so we sit again, and I try to force a spoonful of my cold, lumpy lunch down. It takes all my concentration to swallow the disgusting mouthful. My stomach clenches, so I drop my spoon.
“No offense, princess, but you look like shit,” Georgina says in between shovels. She’s a fat pig. No matter how disgusting the food is in here, don’t take your eyes off your plate or it’ll be in her goddamn mouth before you know what’s happening.
I lock my gaze on her. “Thanks. Just giving you a chance to feel a bit better about your ugly ass.”
She shoots me the finger.
“Seriously, you look pale, like even more than normal,” Stephanie chimes in, sounding far too motherly for my liking.
I smile. “Thanks, ladies. You sure are the fucking cheer committee today.”
“This shrink is really taking the piss outta you, huh? I ain’t never seen you so frazzled before,” Jodi says.
“I’m just tired. Been sleeping like shit, the food is inedible, and yes, talking in circles about your feelings is agony. So I’m taking donations—any booze, pills, or weed is welcome.” Most of what I say is bravado. Keeping up appearances is key to survival in this hellhole. I can’t afford to get caught with any contraband in case a miracle happens and I have a chance of getting out. What a kick in the tit that would be, if I got approved only to have a stupid joint found in my bunk.
“We’re all suffering in here, princess, so buck up.” Georgina braces her gigantic noggin on top of her propped arms.
It takes all my strength to stay calm. Sometimes people in here forget what I’m capable of. Maybe some of them don’t believe in my history and are willing to take a chance by coming at me.
Too bad I’m on my best behavior.
Margot puts a hand in Georgina’s face. “Lay off her, Gina. Ain’t none of us know what being examined under a microscope like that feels like. I know I’d be stressed to fucking shit if my whole future relied on talking to one damn bitch for a couple of weeks.”
“Thanks, Margot, but you don’t have to defend me.”
“Yeah, princess is a big girl. She can take care of herself, or so she wants us to think.”
I glower at her and swallow the scream that threatens to explode out of me. I’m afraid if I release it, I’ll never stop. “You got something to say?” I sit on my hands. Just in case I’m a little too tempted to gouge her eyes out.
Georgina stands up from her spot at the table across from me and walks around to my side. “Actually, yeah. I think you’re a fucking weak-ass bitch who ain’t no one afraid of in here, especially not me. You walk around all high and mighty, thinking you’re better than us, smarter and prettier than us, but guess what—you in here just like the fucking rest of us, and I ain’t scared by your supposed past.” She makes finger quotations an inch from my face.
I stand. We’re eye to eye. I can feel her hot, stinky breath on my face. Her finger jabs me in the chest. My blood fills my ears and I can’t hear much past the intense rushing. I clench my fists at my sides. Ready. I want her to come at me so badly. “Is that so? You gonna do something about it then?” I say, smacking her finger away from me. My eyes narrow on her acne-scarred face.
Before I can register what’s happening, I feel her two bony hands dig into my chest. The air is pushed out and I gasp. My legs tremble. Teeth clench.
It only takes me a second to leap onto her. Her fingers are entwined in my hair and I can feel the pressure as she yanks. I elbow her, and she lets go. The top of my hand swings across her cheek and I hear a loud slapping sound. Her head flies back, her arms wave wildly as she tries to grab a hold of me, but my adrenaline is pumping so hard that I don’t feel anything. My hands find their way to her neck. I squeeze and squeeze. Teeth gritting.
The power of my fingers pressing into the flesh of her neck makes me shiver with excitement. It feels like I can breathe for the first time since that day in the library all those years ago.
I have tunnel vision. I only see her eyes rolling back and her mouth attempting to suck in air. My heartbeat increases in my ears. Thump. Thump. Thump. My hands and wrists must be aching, but I don’t feel them.
Her arms keep flailing. Her fingers attempt to dig at my face. I don’t feel that either, I just keep pressing my hands into her. Squeezing. I wonder how much longer until she dies. I’m tingling all over.
And then I feel hands on me—pulling and yanking me off her. I fight harder, and then so do the hands.
My grasp is broken. I’m being lifted into the air. I’m screaming and swearing. I’m shaking, ferocious with rage. It’s a sensation from a time very long ago, yet it’s so familiar to me.
A man’s gruff voice breaks into my trance. My arms are twisted behind my back where I’m cuffed. Tightly. “That’s enough, Wilkanson! You’re done! You’re done!”
Now that I’m off her, I realize in a sobering moment that he might not be talking about just the fight. A hurtling wave of nausea makes my stomach twist and my mouth water.
I may have just ruined any chance I ever had to get out of here.
I’m whisked away by two guards who throw me into solitary.
They aren’t gentle with me as they literally launch me inside the room. I’ve never been in here before, but I’ve heard enough horror stories to know I never wanted to see it. I land on the ground with a thud. My bones vibrate from the motion. My arms are sore and bruised above my elbows where I was manhandled.
“I got to say, I’m surprised to see you in here, Wilkanson. There goes your perfect record. Was it worth it?” The guard, Han, shakes his head. He looks like a disappointed daddy and not some guy who’s getting underpaid to deal with us lowlifes.
I remain quiet, as is my right. It’s about the only thing I can control in here.
The other guard that has kindly accompanied me to the hole is Rickers. Unlike Han, has a smug smile on his face, like he’s been waiting for this moment with a lousy fifty bucks riding on it.
Han spins me around and unlocks the handcuffs. My wrists are sore from being forced into the cold, hard metal. I rub them, trying to get the circulation back into my hands. My brain finally registers where I am as I look around the closet-sized room. There’s nothing in here but a sweat- stained pad on the floor and a disgusting dirty blanket that I wouldn’t touch for fear of contracting scabies or countless other contagious diseases.
“Someone will be in later to bring you to your hearing. Do you want anyone else there with you?” Rickers asks.
“What do you mean? I don’t understand what’s happening,” I say, and it’s the truth. I’ve never committed an offense before. My anger has dwindled, and I’m left in a state of confusion and shock. My body trembles. I can even feel my ribs shaking. What did I fucking do?
Han stands tall, shoulders squared, with his hand on his baton. He looks like he’s ready to take down a linebacker and not some hundred-and-ten-pound chick. “You’ll be taken in to see an adjudicator. You can bring in witnesses if you think it’ll help your case. You’ll tell them what happened and plead guilty or not guilty of the offense—in this case, assaulting a fellow inmate.”
“But Georgina started it. She hit me first!” Ugh. I hear the pitiful whine in my voice and I wonder how I suddenly became a petulant child. I need to get my shit together before the hearing if I have any hope in hell of being taken seriously. “Can you ask Stephanie Harvey and Jodi Brown to come? They were there.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Han says.
“So what, I have to stay in here until then? How long does this hearing take to set up?” I ask. My palms are slick, and I wipe them on the thighs of my pants.
“It could be a few hours.”
“Oh, great,” I exhale, relieved.
“Or it could be tomorrow,” Rickers adds.
My eyes and mouth widen. “What? You mean to tell me that I could be stuck in this hell
hole overnight?” My mind reels. My bunk is shitty, but it’s the Westin compared to this hovel. “That’s right.” Rickers smiles. “Shoulda thought about that before you tried to kill someone in here.” He walks out with Han right behind him.
My hand goes up and I wave for them to stop. “No, wait. You can’t leave me.”
Han takes another step away. “I’m afraid we can, and just in case we’re not back today, sleep tight.” The hefty steel door slams shut. The sound reverberates, echoing painfully in my ears. I’m dizzy. The walls look like they’re getting closer. The air is cold and stale. My stomach turns over.
Think, Ryann. Lunch was served at one o’clock. The fight happened just after, which puts it around two. There’s got to be enough time to get a judge or adjudicator to see me. What if the warden won’t let Steph and Jodi out to testify for me?
I need water. My mouth is so dry.
Surely someone will come soon. In twelve years at this prison, I’ve never so much as hid a candy bar I wasn’t supposed to have. I don’t deserve this.
Fighting is a major infraction. Georgina wanted this. This was probably her fucking plan the entire time.
What the fuck did I do?