Kuttes on for Kingdom!
Keep reading for the sizzle when Kingdom meets Sage.
Kingdom’s Reign by Monique Moreau arrives September 1st!
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A grieving biker. A love jaded attorney. Can they heal each other’s wounds?
Since the death of his patch brother, Kingdom has felt nothing but rage and loss. Until, he meets Sage on a trip to a tattoo shop to get fresh ink for his fallen brother. She’s sexy. Brilliant. And exactly the kind of challenge that makes him ache. If asked whether he deserves her, Kingdom’s straight-up answer would be, hell no. But, nothing will stop him from taking what’s his. Not even her.
Being a no-nonsense defense attorney, the second Sage caught her fiancé cheating she’d sworn off men. While breaking that rule for a tatted up member of an MC seems like a monumentally bad idea, she can’t fight her attraction to Kingdom. When he invites her on a ride, she finds herself wanting so much more. Sage yearns to indulge in one of the sexiest and most dangerous men she’s met, but fears risking her battered heart.
Can the unlikely pair help each other move on from the wounds of the past? Or will club tensions with a rival MC find a way to use their weaknesses against them?
Chapter One – Kingdom
“What’s your name, girl?”
“My name is Sage,” she huffed. “But FYI, I haven’t been a girl for quite some time.”
Kingdom grinned. Her gaze jumped to the dimple at the side of his lips. He’d never liked it, but he had to admit it was useful with the women.
“I stand corrected.” He let his eyes wander all over her in an unhurried fashion. “You’re all woman.”
Heat tinged her cheekbones, but she gave him a noncommittal shrug. He spotted the flare of interest in her eyes. It caught fire and smoldered in his belly. Kingdom braced the counter with one hand and leaned toward her ever so slightly. He was pleased when her body gravitated toward him like an animal seeking refuge with one of its own kind.
Evading his blatant come-on, Sage said conversationally, “Most people don’t ask for advice. It’s a shame to waste Angel’s talent with boring tattoos like butterflies or the Grim Reaper.”
He pulled away and countered in mock offense, “GR is not boring.”
Again, he noticed that when he moved away from her, she instinctively inclined toward him before she briskly hauled herself upright.
“You may have a point,” she concurred. “A woman came in the other day with a drawing she made for a tattoo of butterflies in flight. The butterfly at the base of her spine was in a pencil outline. Each subsequent butterfly circling up her spine became more detailed and colored. The last one, just below her neck, burst out in Technicolor. I thought it was a beautiful representation her personal journey of transformation. Her manner of interpreting the idea was touching.” Sage scrunched her nose. “I doubt the average woman wants a caterpillar and chrysalis on her back for her entire life.”
Kingdom chased her expressions and gestures as she relayed her story. He had stopped listening to specific words, instead tuning into the vibrant thrumming energy between them. A fierce, unexplainable sensation lashed against the sides of his ribs. His fingers snagged the edges of his leather vest and gripped them hard.
There was an affinity between them, no doubt, but he had no template for instant connections. Fascination lured him in, not with cut-offs revealing butt cheeks like the club women, but with her odd mix of softness and intensity. She had an air of innocence mixed with a passion he’d forgotten existed. In his world, innocence died a swift death.
“What about skulls?” he suggested just to keep her luscious lips moving and the smart words flying from her mouth.
Sage’s pursed her lips in distaste. “Not a big fan. I tend to like pretty things.”
“You don’t say. That’s ’cause you’re a pretty thing.” He angled his head, his gaze lingering on her.
She fidgeted under the weight of his perusal. Quickly, her head dipped down at his compliment, embarrassment splashing pink across her cheeks. Other than her blush, she refused to acknowledge his flirtation. Twice now.
Bitches always, and he meant always, responded to him. Hell, he didn’t put effort into baggin’ women, especially civilians. Most times, hangers-on were the worst. They didn’t know how to play the game. Got clingy.
He couldn’t put words to why this woman affected him. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind so much, but it was beneath the Vice President of the Demon Squad to show undue interest in any female, much less one separate from his world.
Growing up in New York City, I used to walk the hot pavements in the melting heat of the long summers, and dream. Uptown to downtown, Eastside to the Westside, and underground to catch a subway racing out into the boroughs.
During my wanderings, my magic pencil spun out fantasies full of romance, with first meetings, heartbreaks, and reunions. Sometimes my boy crush (unrequited, of course) starred as the hero.
I grew up, and after a stint in art school, became a lawyer ‘cuz a woman’s got to live. I came from parents who fled to France as refugees, and as an attorney, I dedicated my work to helping survivors of trauma and persecution.
I believe in them. In their grit, in their determination to hold on, to pull through and, somehow, someway, to keep themselves, body and soul, intact.
Perhaps that is why I am drawn to writing stories of men and women who live through heart-rending pain, desperate yearnings and, ultimately, a place of redemption.
I, myself, fought the urge to get off the expected, safe path for a long time. Until one day I couldn’t go on unless I took a chance and made a change. I began to write, stopped, and began again … and again until
I gave in to it and here I am.
Come join me on my journey as a debut author.