Content below the cut is not PG-13
Virtual Tour Guest Author
Author K.C. Falls ~ Erotic Contemporary Romance
BOOK TITLE: Knowing His Secret
K.C. Falls is a native of New York who traded the Big Apple for Big Sky country. Her Montana ranch is home to a menagerie of animals including one human male she shamelessly uses for inspiration. Her tales are sharp-edged stories with strong sexy heroes and the women they can’t resist.
K.C. finds time to feed the chickens, study Native Americana (she’s part Cheyenne–that’s what the ‘C’ stands for) and cook incredible food because there isn’t a restaurant around for many miles. She writes in between bites.
K.C. loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to follow her on any of her social media channels. And don’t forget to check out her website–kcfalls.com. You can sign up to her mailing list there, to hear about new releases and any promotional sales coming up. You can also find some backstory for her current and future works.
Thanks for stopping in to my blog today, KC.
He looked like the kind of man even my mother would call smokin’ hot. Eventually, she did.
He felt like the kind of man who didn’t just break the rules, but made new ones. He led and it was follow or get out of the way.
Why did a billionaire with a voice like liquid silk and a face like a bad angel take a second look at a girl in no-name jeans, with a fifteen-dollar haircut and a beat up car she calls her “Eep” because the ‘J’ fell off long ago?
I didn’t want to know why and when I thought I knew I didn’t want to admit it. By the time I found his secret, it was already too late. His passion had me hooked like a drug. It didn’t hurt that he pulled the people I love the most out of harm’s way. A girl can get used to a knight in shining armor even when the armor has some very large dents in it.
This is part one of a series. Part 2 of the Year of the Billionaire is “Taking His Risk” and is available now on Kindle. Part 3 of Year of the Billionaire is “Keeping His Promise” and is also available exclusively on Amazon. These are adult romance intended only for readers over 18 due to explicit sexual content.
“Welcome to Brian’s loft o’ porn,” Tristan greeted me. He was leaning back against a pile of pillows and patted the carpet beside him, inviting me to sit down. “In this room, there is a library of smut so vast that it would take more than a lifetime to view it all.”“Oh? Really?” What could I say to that?
“He’s a collector. Little men often have issues, you know.”
“What about big men? Do big men have issues?”
“None worth discussing tonight.”
Tristan pulled my face toward his and claimed my mouth with a crushing kiss. There was an element of something dark in the way he took me into his arms. He held me hard against him and breathed into my hair. “It’s time now, Raina. I want to fuck you now . . . here.”
“Tristan, I think there are things we need to talk about first.”
He pulled me on top of him and roughly positioned me so that I couldn’t help but feel his erection against my groin. My traitorous body reacted immediately.
“Raina, there’s only one kind of communication I’m interested in tonight. If that’s not why you came up here, maybe we should go downstairs for some milk and cookies with the rest of the children.” There was an edge to his words. It was the same edge I had heard from the stage when I corrected him. It was the hiss that I had heard when he held my face in his at practice that first night when I went back to his house.
If I backed away I’d probably never know what it was like to have Tristan King’s cock inside me. He made it clear that it was going to be his way or not at all. I wasn’t going to get any answers ‘before’. The only kind of knowledge I had to look forward to at that moment was the carnal kind.
His eyes had narrowed slightly and his nostrils flared. He wasn’t going to try to convince me. He had made it a challenge. It was my choice, but the stakes were high. I leaned down toward his face as if I was going to kiss him. Instead I put my mouth very close to his ear and ground my pelvis into his.
“No cookies . . . just milk,” I whispered.
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