DIRTY QUINN by Denise Wells – Cover & Excerpt Reveal
Release Date: March 25, 2020
Genre: Romantic Suspense
SYNOPSIS
They say the best laid plans often go astray—or something like that.
Anyway, I thought it would be easy to infiltrate a gang of Russian sex traffickers and help bring them down, but I was wrong.
Don’t judge. I did it so the man who has my heart could rescue me and we’d head off into the sunset together and live our happily ever after.
But that guy, he’s nowhere to be found. Now I need someone, anyone, to help me out of this. The problem is, nobody knows where I’m being held captive.
Including me.
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EXCERPT
I have to admit, it’s a lot harder to plot out being rescued by the love of your life when he doesn’t know you’re missing. If he knew, I’m certain he would try to find me. If the way he treated me the other night is any indication. Even if he was a little drunk—okay, a lot drunk—he still touched me and looked at me with reverence. Like he was worshipping my body, memorizing every piece of me so he could relive our night again and again.
The same way that I keep it on a loop in my mind, as an escape from this cold, dank windowless room I need him to come take me away me from. In my mind’s eye, I see his face smiling above me as he tells me what a good girl I am; how I’m so pretty.
“Have I told you how pretty you are?”
I shake my head, my hair swishing back and forth across my shoulders, the butterflies in my stomach going all aflutter at his words.
His hand reaches out to smooth my hair back from my face, I lean my cheek into his palm. Watching him as his eyes travel from mine, up to my forehead, down to my lips, my chest, and back up to my face. He leans in and takes my bottom lip between his with a gentle pull. Then lets it go to ghost his lips across mine. Spreading kisses up one side of my face and back down again with the softest of touches until finally returning to my mouth, his tongue snakes out to glide across mine, seeking entrance.
I can’t breathe. My head spins. As a first “real” kiss, Reed Roberts is absolutely killing it.
He groans as his fingers slide up into my hair, grip it tightly, and hold my head in place. His other hand creeps around to my waist and pulls me forward to straddle his lap. Then, with one little sentence, he rocks my entire world.
“Oh god, Quinn. You feel amazing. Exactly how I dreamed it would be,” he murmurs against my lips, making my heart burst and my insides melt.
“You dreamed about me?”
“All the time, pretty girl. All the time.”
That was all the motivation I needed to scoot myself closer, pressing our chests together and tilting my pelvis down against him so I could feel how hard he was beneath me.
“I dreamed about you too,” I admit, feeling emboldened.
His lips move from mine, down my jaw, and over to my neck, where he trails kisses along the sensitive skin, stopping to nibble on my collarbone, which make me moan.
“What did you dream about?” he asks.
“This. Kissing. Being together.”
“Did you dream about us fucking, Quinn?”
I nod as he kisses his way to the other side of my neck. He has to be the best neck kisser around. By far.
“I did too. I dreamed about burying my cock deep inside your pussy as you beg me for more.” His words are a little crass. In my daydreams and fantasies, he has always been a bit more poetic with his choices. But something about hearing his deep voice whispering “cock” and “pussy,” his hot breath tickling my ear, it makes me want him to do exactly that. Right then. Without waiting a second longer.
He moves a hand inside my shirt and cups my breast through my bra.
“God, Quinn, your tits are amazing. I have to see them.” He pulls my shirt up and off me, leaving me straddling him in my shorts and a bra. His eyes fill with hunger, my panties flood.
“So beautiful.” He grabs a breast in each hand and squeezes, then buries his face between them alternately licking and kissing the valley in between.
The memories heat my entire body from the inside out, my hand clutching at my throat. Making me suddenly wonder if I’ll ever see him again. Ever feel his touch. My pleasure morphs rapidly to despair as I curl into a fetal position and attempt to cry myself to sleep.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Denise Wells has been reading since before she could talk. And to this day, escaping into a book is her go-to activity before anything else.
She likes to write about sassy women and semi-flawed alpha-esque men. Denise’s female characters always have strong friendships, potty mouths, and like to drink–a lot.
Denise is loyal to a fault, a bit too sarcastic, blindingly optimistic, and pretty freakin’ happy with life overall. As a diehard fan of the band The Replacements, Denise would be a rock star in the band if she couldn’t be a writer. She’s even kissed the lead singer, Paul Westerberg, to prove her devotion.
Home is in the Pacific Northwest where she lives with six special needs dogs, one cat (who’s busy plotting the demise of the six dogs), and a husband (BW) who has the patience and tolerance of a saint. And, lest she forget, Denise also lives with too many to count characters inside her head, who will eventually have their stories told.
